Saturday, January 15, 2011
The First Day of the Rest of my Life
Saying, “Today will be the first day of the rest of my life,” and actually making today the first day of the rest of my life, doesn’t really seem to match up. But I said it, last night, and I am hell-bent on reinventing myself.
Mostly this has been inspired by my roommate Remington, whom last night told me that I am lame because: I sit around, watch TV, don’t have a job, and am boring. I pray that he doesn’t actually hold me as boring, but I’ve felt it developing for a while now, especially because Remington is hanging around with Johnnie. Johnnie, a roommate of years past, was a good friend of mine, and Remington, Johnnie, and I were near inseparable. We would hang around, go find girls to hang out with, and dink about until late in the night, but then he moved out and Remington and I had to become friends without Johnnie. This worked well enough until they started hanging around again, but this time, I wasn’t invited.
The worst part about my relationship with Johnnie and Remington is that I have become nothing but a novelty act to them, and whomever they decide to hang out with. To them, I am nothing but, “Our gay roommate,” and they feel the need to tell everybody this fact. I actually despise that they call me that, especially because I don’t really like gay people.
It’s not that I hate every gay person on this planet, but I do hate people who are obsessed with their sexuality. Everything is gay, gay, gay, gay, GAY! Unfortunately enough, I used to be one of these people, and so now that I have evolved from that stage, I realize how annoying it is. I guess the best way to describe my hatred would be to give a verbal comic. It’s a single frame with two hippopotamuses at a watering hole. One of the hippos has a word bubble that says, “I’m a HIIIIIIPPPPPOOOOOOO!” and the other hippo says, “God, I hope all hippos die.”
It’s a bit humorous that Johnnie and Rem feel that it is ok to tell everyone about my sexual preferences because a year ago, when they found out, they were going to report me to BYU honor code offices and have me kicked out of school. But somewhere along the way, they decided that they liked having me around, and I took care of them because they cannot live without having a responsible person to make sure they don’t fuck up too bad and keep them out of trouble. But now, I am the butt of every joke and every story. I am made out to be nothing but this cloud of confetti and rainbows, which I pray that I’m not.
Last night, after Johnnie had told me that he had a big discussion about me with a bunch of people in his class, I found him curled up in my bed. This ignited something in my brain and I beat up Johnnie. I punched him til’ he had the wind knocked out of him. He still wouldn’t budge from my bed, and so I grabbed his ankle and tried to rip him from my sheets. To my dismay, he had grabbed on to the frame of my bed, and when I pulled, the bed frame came apart into thirty different pieces. My bed came crashing to the ground, smashing my luggage that I had stored underneath my bed and leaving my room a mess.
I had to leave (leave being an understatement) and so I put on my coat and prepared myself to walk about Provo until I didn’t have the desire to commit homicide. “Snakers! Aren’t you gonna go find girls with us?” If I am so gay that they can only describe me as a homo, why in Hell would I ever want to go out and look for girls? I slammed the door behind me, but because our door has warped from this winter’s snow, the door just bounced back open. Either I had to save my pride, or save my electric bill… so I walked back and grappled with the door until it was closed.
Mostly this has been inspired by my roommate Remington, whom last night told me that I am lame because: I sit around, watch TV, don’t have a job, and am boring. I pray that he doesn’t actually hold me as boring, but I’ve felt it developing for a while now, especially because Remington is hanging around with Johnnie. Johnnie, a roommate of years past, was a good friend of mine, and Remington, Johnnie, and I were near inseparable. We would hang around, go find girls to hang out with, and dink about until late in the night, but then he moved out and Remington and I had to become friends without Johnnie. This worked well enough until they started hanging around again, but this time, I wasn’t invited.
The worst part about my relationship with Johnnie and Remington is that I have become nothing but a novelty act to them, and whomever they decide to hang out with. To them, I am nothing but, “Our gay roommate,” and they feel the need to tell everybody this fact. I actually despise that they call me that, especially because I don’t really like gay people.
It’s not that I hate every gay person on this planet, but I do hate people who are obsessed with their sexuality. Everything is gay, gay, gay, gay, GAY! Unfortunately enough, I used to be one of these people, and so now that I have evolved from that stage, I realize how annoying it is. I guess the best way to describe my hatred would be to give a verbal comic. It’s a single frame with two hippopotamuses at a watering hole. One of the hippos has a word bubble that says, “I’m a HIIIIIIPPPPPOOOOOOO!” and the other hippo says, “God, I hope all hippos die.”
It’s a bit humorous that Johnnie and Rem feel that it is ok to tell everyone about my sexual preferences because a year ago, when they found out, they were going to report me to BYU honor code offices and have me kicked out of school. But somewhere along the way, they decided that they liked having me around, and I took care of them because they cannot live without having a responsible person to make sure they don’t fuck up too bad and keep them out of trouble. But now, I am the butt of every joke and every story. I am made out to be nothing but this cloud of confetti and rainbows, which I pray that I’m not.
Last night, after Johnnie had told me that he had a big discussion about me with a bunch of people in his class, I found him curled up in my bed. This ignited something in my brain and I beat up Johnnie. I punched him til’ he had the wind knocked out of him. He still wouldn’t budge from my bed, and so I grabbed his ankle and tried to rip him from my sheets. To my dismay, he had grabbed on to the frame of my bed, and when I pulled, the bed frame came apart into thirty different pieces. My bed came crashing to the ground, smashing my luggage that I had stored underneath my bed and leaving my room a mess.
I had to leave (leave being an understatement) and so I put on my coat and prepared myself to walk about Provo until I didn’t have the desire to commit homicide. “Snakers! Aren’t you gonna go find girls with us?” If I am so gay that they can only describe me as a homo, why in Hell would I ever want to go out and look for girls? I slammed the door behind me, but because our door has warped from this winter’s snow, the door just bounced back open. Either I had to save my pride, or save my electric bill… so I walked back and grappled with the door until it was closed.