Monday, September 20, 2010

Easy A

Yesterday, I went to the movies and saw Easy A, it was $10.75, and more.

Lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about the word SLUT. Yes, a word defined as a woman with morals of a man (1).

I've always wanted to be some kind of whore, tramp, hussy, trollop, or slut. I've always wanted to be that wanted. I've always wanted to be so obviously wanted, just by my aesthetic and reputation. Unfortunately, I feel no need to stray away from who I am or my look. It's not in the cards for me, unlike most gay men.

I've always been allowed to express myself. I can look on an old polaroid from pre-school. I can see the day exactly. We had a discussion about bunnies, and we all went around and said something about them. I said, "Bunnies like to hop." I can only imagine how bad my lisp was before I hit puberty.

The teacher (who was ironically a whore herself, proven by the fact that when I was in 4th grade, she was fired for sleeping with the new, married, Principal) posted these quotes with polaroid pictures of us all standing on a step-stool. In the photo I'm grinning huge. I have my hands folded on one knee, which was raised. I was wearing a white undershirt, that fit a little too snug, as a regular shirt. I had on baby blue shorts that went half-way down the thigh, and knee-high socks with a purple and green stripe on the top, and Barney on the side.

Looking back, I think: I've always been gay.

I've always been obsessed with fashion, and I was always encouraged to be if I so wanted. I loved 3LW and Kelly Clarkson. I would practice singing. All of my friends in the neighborhood were girls. I played with Bratz dolls. C'MON.

Everyone always knew I was, I just didn't give official confirmation until I was in 6th grade, when I was introduced to public school and learned about sex. I told my friends I was sexually interested in men. It was like history. I think the only reason gay men go through a "slut-stage" is because they need to suppress their sexual desires for the least bit of time. Seeing as how I never had to do that, I've completely avoided this stereotype.

As bad as I want to be a whore, I'm glad that I come off as a stuck-up, cold-hearted, disinterested bitch, and completely unapproachable.

I'm a five-star fag, would you expect anything less?

Thursday, September 9, 2010


When life gives you lemons, make lemonade...
When life takes your money, make more of it...

Just my luck that I have to be born into a place where I have to struggle with my own finances at 17. What happened to the day when mommy and daddy took care of everything, and you just knew everything would be alright. Since the age of 14, I've had to work to get anything I've wanted. Sure, it has taught me a ton, but it hasn't allowed me to enjoy my teen-hood.

Making $150+ a week at my age seems impressive, I know, and I should be more grateful. But when you know you're going to have to put your car on the road yourself, insurance and all, You start to panic. When you have to pay $300 for your senior page, that everyone else's parents pay for, it makes you stressed, and upset. I have to pay $100 for my own senior trip, and i have to get my own prom tickets.

I've been dreaming of a prom outfit for months, and it kills me inside that I know I'm going to have to go to S&K like everyone else in the United States to get my tux, because I'm so broke. I bust my ass to stretch my money, and make things easier for other people by paying for myself.

I bought all of my own school clothes this year, to make things easier for Aneta.

I feel like she isn't even grateful.

And if my cunt of a manager knew that I deserved hours more than people like Bovan who lie and cheat, I'd be thrilled. It's true though, good guys finish last.

I promise myself that when I run my own life, I'll always be able to live comfortably.

Money makes the world go round. That doesn't sound quite right? Does it?

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

I Am Caesar Smithe

Late last night I decided that I really am Caesar Smithe, all of my qualities lately have owned up, quite fully, to the more outspoken qualities I possess.

Last night, I told off Alejandro, who hasn't quite reached the point of dead, like she who must not be named. I have been a very good friend to Alejandro, and his complete lack of effort in our friendship has been pissing me off for a little while now. He can be such a sweetheart, but such a whore.

Alejandro isn't the only one who's been getting on my nerves lately. One of my co-workers, Nigel. Nigel is a know-it-all. He is a men's specialist, and feels overly-entitled as such. He does great work, don't get me wrong, but he thinks he's such hot shit. He's just your typical, black faggot, who think's he's fashionable and has snaggle teeth. His boyfriend is ugly. I've also been informed by other mall employees that he's known as "The Slut of" here in the area. You must be proud. Just remember Nigel, I've been Employee of the Month before, and you haven't... I'm better than you.

He told me in confidence, how many people he has slept with, so I will not expose that truth, even in anger. But let's just say it's more than 10 people (I'm choking laughing).

The third person to fill me with rage lately is my Mother.

A few days ago, my half-sister added me on Facebook. I haven't seen her since I turned 10. I haven't seen my Mother since then either. I would love to see the both of them. But why should I after they allowed Potter (the douche my mother is engaged to), to dictate who they spoke to. I guess I was a little too VIP for the list. Why now? Am I finally good enough? Was it my mother's idea, or my fat, half-sister's? Regardless, I'm still hurt, and I'm not pleased.

And with that said, I don't just feel, I act. I really people think that I'm an ass who curses too much. I'm honest, and I don't lose any sleep.

And I'm going to get what I want... as Caesar Smithe.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Summer Ends

In two days I go back to receiving my formal education. Ya, fucking, hoo.

This summer, I got my act together. I got my license and in about a week, I will be putting my very own car on the road. I will be independent and not worrying about anything, and doing what I want, on my time, with my money.

I bought all of my own clothes for school, and I took on fully my portion of the phone bill. Unlike Charles, I can handle bills, and take care of a checkbook. I act my age when necessary, and I've never been in a hurry to be older than I really am.

In about a year I will be heading off to school, I won't be home, and I'll actually be able to call all of the shots in my life. I can't wait.

It seems that a recent affair has led me to be baffled between my dream, and a romance. Love awaits me in Atlanta, where if I go to school there, I'll have to choose a completely different career path. My dream awaits me in Manhattan, the center of commerce where I'll have to open myself to a whole new network of people, and go to the school that I've dreamed of going to for the past year.

At times I feel that if I choose my dream job, I'll be so in love with my job that I'll end up being alone in my house with my millions, and a hairless cat. And now that a lover is making me question my dream, I feel he may be worth it. Maybe he's the new dream.

Through growing up, I'm still faced with some of my teenage issues and childish desires. I don't think I'll ever stop being so unrealistic.