nipple-tastic-blog

[nipple-tastic-blog]

updated with <650 words! still working on revisions. there's a homophobic slur in there so if that bothers you then you might not wanna read it

I have a confession to make. As a good Samaritan to my community, a promising student to my teachers, and a loyal friend to my peers, I've broken my code of honor. And not once, or even twice, for that matter; no, for one hour every Tuesday and Friday for ten consecutive years, I've violated the code I swore to keep since I could barely understand what it meant. From the day I walked into my first Cub Scouts meeting at the age of seven, I began committing what I had learned was one of the worst moral crimes - the crime of being gay. Accepting myself was a long journey in and of itself, but coming to terms with widespread homophobic discrimination was and will continue to be an even longer one.

In the eighth grade, I became my Boy Scout troop’s youngest Senior Patrol Leader in the history of the troop. And the next summer, I led a group of nine boys and two adults through the New Mexican wilderness. Boy Scouts taught me irreplaceable leadership skills, an unparalleled appreciation for nature, and the value of a strong sense of community, yet I could not help but feel conflicted about BSA National’s discrimination. Throughout my childhood experiences with the BSA, I shoved my sexuality aside in a desperate attempt to feel comfortable with my surroundings, and eventually realized I couldn’t deny my own identity for long. For every women and children’s shelter I renovated, I thought of another sad child with one more opportunity taken away from him because of his sexuality. For every food and clothing drive I helped run to help the homeless in New York City, I thought of another gay parent who could not be a part of his or her son’s amazing experiences in the BSA. Although I was extraordinarily passionate about my service activities, I became disenchanted with the organization as it continued to discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation.

Each time I pledge to uphold the values of an “honorable” scout, I am reminded of the sound of glass shattering on the floor as I tell my mother about my sexuality. I hear the screaming of my father, telling me there’s no way I can possibly be sure at such a young age. I can feel the homophobic slurs piercing my heart like a drill, and I can see the hateful messages that tell me I don’t deserve to exist on this planet. Every utterance of “faggot” brings me back to that exact moment in time, and the memories come pouring back into my head. That moment in my life was the start of a two-year battle against severe major depressive disorder, against suicidal thoughts, and against a social anxiety disorder that kept me from wanting to leave my home to attend high school or even to see my own friends.

Despite my bad experiences, however, I feel that I am able to continue through life on a positive note. Since I revealed my sexuality to the world, I have joined the Gay and Lesbian Straight Education Network’s student leadership team, as well as starting a Gay-Straight Alliance at my own high school. I started seeing a psychiatrist, a neuropsychologist, and a therapist. I am learning to love myself, and to appreciate the beauties of life. My horrible experiences have only given me more motivation to fight for my rights and the rights of LGBT individuals across the globe that are even less fortunate than me. I am on the way to recovery and I have a hopeful attitude for the future. As BSA changed their policies in 2013, I am no longer an illegal member. But my struggle, the struggle of LGBT individuals across the globe, is not yet over. I will not let the pandemic of homophobia win this moral war.

[nipple-tastic-blog]

IM SO ANGRY I HAVE 738 WORDS

be weary there's a homophobic slur in it

I have a confession to make. As a good Samaritan to my community, a promising student to my teachers, and a loyal friend to my peers, I've broken my code of honor. And not once, or even twice, for that matter; no, for one hour every Tuesday and Friday for ten consecutive years, I've violated the code I swore to keep since I could barely understand what it meant. From the day I walked into my first Cub Scouts meeting at the age of seven, I began committing what I had learned was one of the worst moral crimes - the crime of being gay. Accepting myself was a long journey in and of itself, but coming to terms with widespread homophobic discrimination was and will continue to be an even longer one. Fortunately, 2013 was my final year as an illegal member of the Boy Scouts of America, but I know my fight is not even nearly over.

In the eighth grade, I became my Boy Scout troop’s youngest Senior Patrol Leader in the history of the troop. And the next summer, I led a group of nine boys and two adults through the New Mexican wilderness. Boy Scouts taught me irreplaceable leadership skills, an unparalleled appreciation for nature, and the value of a strong sense of community. But throughout my childhood experiences with the BSA, I shoved my sexuality aside in a desperate attempt to feel comfortable with my surroundings, and eventually realized I couldn’t deny my own identity for long. I always had my sexuality in the back of my mind, and I felt that I would never be truly accepted in the Boy Scouts despite the great experiences I had.

Boy Scouts was an extremely important part of my childhood in developing a passion for community service, yet I could not help but feel conflicted about BSA National’s discrimination. For every women and children’s shelter I renovated, I thought of another sad child with one more opportunity taken away from him because of his sexuality. For every food and clothing drive I helped run to help the homeless in New York City, I thought of another gay parent who could not be a part of his or her son’s amazing experiences in the BSA. It was extraordinarily difficult for me to feel passionate about my service activities when I knew that in doing them, I was also affiliating myself with an organization that discriminates on the basis of sexual orientation.

Dealing with the discriminatory policies of an organization I was highly devoted to was still only a small battle in the war against homophobia that was my childhood and continues to be my life. When I think of the day I told the world I was gay, I can hear the sound of a glass shattering as my mother drops it on the floor. I can hear the screaming of my father, telling me there’s no way I can possibly be sure of my sexuality at such a young age. I can feel the homophobic slurs piercing my heart like a drill, and I can see the hateful messages that tell me I don’t deserve to exist on this planet. Every utterance of “faggot” brings me back to that exact moment in time, and the memories come pouring back into my head. That moment in my life was the start of a two-year battle against severe major depressive disorder, against suicidal thoughts, and against a social anxiety disorder that kept me from wanting to leave my home to attend high school or even to see my own friends.

Despite my bad experiences, however, I feel that I am able to continue through life on a positive note. Since I revealed my sexuality to the world, I have joined the Gay and Lesbian Straight Education Network’s student leadership team, as well as starting a Gay-Straight Alliance at my own high school. I started seeing a psychiatrist, a neuropsychologist, and a therapist. I am learning to love myself, and to appreciate the beauties of life. My horrible experiences have only given me more motivation to fight for my rights and the rights of LGBT individuals across the globe that are even less fortunate than me. I am on the way to recovery and I have a hopeful attitude for the future. And most importantly, I will not let the pandemic of homophobia win this moral war.

[nipple-tastic-blog]

i have like 4 paragraphs now but im up to like 600 words and i was planning on a 5th paragraph ahhh

I have a confession to make. As a good Samaritan to my community, a promising student to my teachers, and a loyal friend to my peers, I've broken my code of honor. And not once, or even twice, for that matter; no, for one hour every Tuesday and Friday for ten consecutive years, I've violated the code I swore to keep since I could barely understand what it meant. From the day I walked into my first Cub Scouts meeting at the age of seven, I began committing what I had learned was one of the worst moral crimes - the crime of being gay. Accepting myself was a long journey in and of itself, but coming to terms with widespread homophobic discrimination was and will continue to be an even longer one. Fortunately, 2013 was my final year as an illegal member of the Boy Scouts of America, but I know my fight is not even nearly over.

In the eighth grade, I became my Boy Scout troop’s youngest Senior Patrol Leader in the history of the troop. And the next summer, I led a group of nine boys and two adults through the New Mexican wilderness. Boy Scouts taught me irreplaceable leadership skills, an unparalleled appreciation for nature, and the value of a strong sense of community. But throughout my childhood experiences with the BSA, I shoved my sexuality aside in a desperate attempt to feel comfortable with my surroundings, and eventually realized I couldn’t deny my own identity for long. I always had my sexuality in the back of my mind, and I felt that I would never be truly accepted in the Boy Scouts despite the great experiences I had.

Boy Scouts was an extremely important part of my childhood in developing a passion for community service, yet I could not help but feel conflicted about BSA National’s discrimination. For every women and children’s shelter I renovated, I thought of another sad child with one more opportunity taken away from him because of his sexuality. For every food and clothing drive I helped run to help the homeless in New York City, I thought of another gay parent who could not be a part of his or her son’s amazing experiences in the BSA. It was extraordinarily difficult for me to feel passionate about my service activities when I knew that in doing them, I was also affiliating myself with an organization that discriminates on the basis of sexual orientation.

Dealing with the discriminatory policies of an organization I was highly devoted to was still only a small battle in the war against homophobia that was my childhood and continues to be my life. When I think of the day I told the world I was gay, I can hear the sound of a glass shattering as my mother drops it on the floor. I can hear the screaming of my father, telling me there’s no way I can possibly be sure of my sexuality at such a young age. I can feel the homophobic slurs piercing my heart like a drill, and I can see the hateful messages that tell me I don’t deserve to exist on this planet. Every utterance of “faggot” brings me back to that exact moment in time, and the memories come pouring back into my head. That moment in my life was the start of a two-year battle against severe major depressive disorder, against suicidal thoughts, and against a social anxiety disorder that kept me from wanting to leave my home to attend high school or even to see my own friends.

[nipple-tastic-blog]

college essay thing

I have a confession to make. As a Good Samaritan to my community, a promising student to my teachers, and a loyal friend to my peers, I've broken my code of honor. And not once, or even twice, for that matter; no, for one hour every Tuesday and Friday for ten consecutive years, I've violated the code I swore to keep since I could barely understand what it meant. From the day I walked into my first Cub Scouts meeting at the age of seven, I began committing what I had learned was one of the worst moral crimes - the crime of being gay. Accepting myself was a long journey in and of itself, but coming to terms with widespread homophobic discrimination was and will continue to be an even longer one. Fortunately, 2013 was my final year as an illegal member of the Boy Scouts of America, but I know my fight is not even nearly over.

In the eighth grade, I became my Boy Scout troop’s youngest Senior Patrol Leader in the history of the troop. And the next summer, I led a group of nine boys and two adults through the New Mexican wilderness. Boy Scouts taught me irreplaceable leadership skills, an unparalleled appreciation for nature, and the value of a strong sense of community. But throughout my childhood experiences with the BSA, I shoved my sexuality aside in a desperate attempt to feel comfortable with my surroundings, and eventually realized I couldn’t deny my own identity for long. I always had my sexuality in the back of my mind, and I felt that I would never be truly accepted in the Boy Scouts despite the great experiences I had.

[nipple-tastic-blog]

are you still there? listen to the beating of my heart; over the hyperventilation, you can still hear it; nausea and confusion have become a normality exit from this state and i realize what i am

[nipple-tastic-blog]

okay so i wrote an awful essay for english

enjoy

it's about the "american dream" and how it's basically a load of bs made up by rich white ppl

we also had to make an "artifact" to go along with the essay so i made a playlist

“I live my life inside a dream - only waking when I sleep.” This lyric from “The State of Dreaming” by Marina Diamandis is about perception - how individuals see a peaceful image of the world, rather than for seeing the world as the harsh place it really is. The American Dream tries to explain to Americans that they have a chance at success regardless of their financial, racial, or sexual background, but it fails to take into account how much this “chance” can vary. The American Dream is an illusion; it exhibits the “ignorance is bliss” philosophy on which so many Americans live. To effectively convey the deceptive nature of the American Dream, I chose to construct a playlist of songs of various genres. I chose a playlist because music is very effective at making complex ideas and themes into. Music is complex by nature, comprised of several different elements such as lyrics, emotion, vox, and instruments. No two songs are the same, and every song has a certain but interpretable meaning. For these reasons, I decided it would be best to use a playlist to represent my ideas. The next song after “The State of Dreaming” is “Hiding in My Headphones” by Reel Big Fish. “Hiding in My Headphones” is also about everyone ignoring the problems in the world and listening to relaxing things they want to hear. “I’m hiding in my headphones, hiding in my headphones. Gonna turn them up so loud, gonna drown this whole world out,” the vocalist sings. No one wants to pay attention to how difficult it is to achieve the American Dream - they only want to tell themselves it’s easy. The next song in the playlist is “Hard Way Home” by Brandi Carlile, which is about the difficulties Carlile faces when she tries to achieve her dreams. Carlile was diagnosed with ADHD as a teen, and despite this did her best to continue her education. However, not being neurotypical caused her a great deal of difficulty, and she ended up dropping out of school to pursue her musical career. She writes, “Oh, follow my tracks. See all the times I should’ve turned back,” expressing her grief about waiting so long to go into music. Carlile was obsessed with the “American Dream” of going through high school and college, and getting a high-demand job, and was unable to be happy until she finally dropped out to become a musician. “Hard Way Home” shows how the typical “American Dream” is extremely difficult to achieve for someone who isn’t so privileged, but that everyone can have their own dream. In “Can’t Buy Me Love” by The Beatles, the next song, Paul McCartney describes how money is not the most important thing to him, but rather love, which he can’t just buy with money. “I’ll buy you anything my friend, if it makes you feel alright. I don’t care too much for money, money can’t buy me love.” While money is important for life’s basic necessities - food, water, and shelter - it can’t buy a person total happiness. This is easy to see in The Great Gatsby as well. Jay Gatsby has all of the money he needs and more, but he is still unhappy because Daisy, the girl he loves, is taken. Perhaps many, like Gatsby and McCartney, do not care for the well-known “American Dream” of being rich, but rather about being with people they love and appreciate. The notion that money is not important, however, is also a fallacy. Although love, not money, is the key to happiness for many, a decent amount of money is still required to be able to finance food, water, shelter, medical care, and practical items such as cars and kitchen appliances. The next song, “What a Wicked Gang Are We”, laments the American government and capitalist system. “So here’s the boys who fight all the wars you will never fight for yourself,” Tomas Kalnoky, the lead vocalist, sings. Kalnoky is resenting that by definition, a capitalist system will always have a rich upper class and a poor working class. The system is designed such that it is a statistical anomaly for individuals born into poor families to become wealthy, especially when one is a part of a racial or sexual oppressed group. This system makes the “American Dream” not very plausible, and the song attempts to express this unfortunate truth. The playlist ends the same way it started, with a song by Marina and the Diamonds. The song “Are You Satisfied?” The chorus of the song questions, “Are you satisfied with an average life? Do I need to lie to make my way in life?” This song debates whether going from “rags to riches” is even a possibility, and whether it is a matter of hard work or luck. With this question, the playlist comes to a close, because there is no clear answer. While some individuals are able to rise from poverty to wealth, some are not, and it is unclear how much of this is due to hard work and how much of it is due to luck. In any case, however, it is very difficult, and the “American Dream” is not as viable as society likes to express. The American Dream is an illusion, and the sooner society can accept this, the sooner it can bring about progressive change.

[nipple-tastic-blog]

passive aggressively destroying my love life

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dreams of pleasantry -> knives at throats

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dragged along by the smallest thread, still living with the trauma shaking, shaking, my heartbeat is insuperable all i had to do was think of you

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life of sedition, but always fearing intervention, i cache myself without esteem (self or not) the abundance of flowers seems unreachable

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the scars still don't hurt enough

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meltdown of our own, trapped inside

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can't compete with the song's misery

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awaiting to return to the dirt

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try too hard and never finish

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For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.

Ernest Hemminggay

[nipple-tastic-blog]

writing is nice its like screaming at someone w/o having to actually scream

the downside being they don't know you're writing's about them so you're not actually confronting the interpersonal issue, just the intrapersonal one