On State Frameworks and Matthew Shepard
The unisex club here put on Laramie Project for Take Back the Night on campus, and I of course went to see it (especially since my good friend Andrew was in it). I don't know really what that play means to me, but I know it means a lot. Having been in it, and worked on it for weeks with people I have loved and people I have cried with. Having known people who have died for being who they are. Having seen both so much hope and so little progress in my (admittedly short) lifetime. Having been an openly queer person and feeling that I need to hide both behind that and because of it. Having lived and loved and felt and hoped. That play makes me angry. It makes me horrified. It makes me proud.
I laugh and I cry in the uncomfortable padded pews because The Laramie Project means. And every time I see it, I incorporate more of it into my memories, and I have three different casts meandering through the scenes in my head, hearing echoes of three different people talking about the sparkling lights over Laramie Wyoming. Every time I hear it, I find the same dissatisfactions, I find the same inspirations, but from the mouths and the actions of a new cast of individuals.
And because of that, I am finding it difficult to write my paper on the state of health education in Davis, CA public schools. I suppose not only that is distracting, but the two other papers I have to go for that class (one reflection, one research), the two papers I have for my religion/education class (one generic interpretation of cases we've read, one lengthy research), two projects for my lighting class, the ass monkey or two of reading for psych, re-doing a portion of my taxes, and somehow managing to remain myself in the next month until I leave.
I've been accepted to both Humboldt and Willamette as a transfer, but I'm probably going to head to Humboldt and become a pot head with three cats. Kailyn and I talked today and determined that we'd either end up wildly successful with careers we adore or become bag ladies.
I have done so much reading and typing already this week that I think my eyeballs are going to gain a coating of air.
Ah well. Now that I have vomited my brain onto your computer monitors, I shall go forget this and concentrate on my paper beyond the heading.
I laugh and I cry in the uncomfortable padded pews because The Laramie Project means. And every time I see it, I incorporate more of it into my memories, and I have three different casts meandering through the scenes in my head, hearing echoes of three different people talking about the sparkling lights over Laramie Wyoming. Every time I hear it, I find the same dissatisfactions, I find the same inspirations, but from the mouths and the actions of a new cast of individuals.
And because of that, I am finding it difficult to write my paper on the state of health education in Davis, CA public schools. I suppose not only that is distracting, but the two other papers I have to go for that class (one reflection, one research), the two papers I have for my religion/education class (one generic interpretation of cases we've read, one lengthy research), two projects for my lighting class, the ass monkey or two of reading for psych, re-doing a portion of my taxes, and somehow managing to remain myself in the next month until I leave.
I've been accepted to both Humboldt and Willamette as a transfer, but I'm probably going to head to Humboldt and become a pot head with three cats. Kailyn and I talked today and determined that we'd either end up wildly successful with careers we adore or become bag ladies.
I have done so much reading and typing already this week that I think my eyeballs are going to gain a coating of air.
Ah well. Now that I have vomited my brain onto your computer monitors, I shall go forget this and concentrate on my paper beyond the heading.