Tag: growing-up

britney n' k-fed, tragic

britney lost the kids to KEVIN?

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I’m actually surprised by this, because anyone can clearly see that Kevin is no more fit to parent than Britney. In fact, I would look at the judge square in the eye, and say, “do you realize, that he walked out on his pregnant girlfriend to be with Britney? Please explain how that makes him MORE fit to parent.” Point blank, I think this is a lot of the problem with things today; kids raising kids. I think the kids should go to Britney’s mom, but that’s just my two cents. I remember my early twenties, and I can tell you right now, I would have been an awful parent. I was practically a child still, learning the ways of the world… and that isn’t even considering the mad media that is watching their every move. Parenting is hard enough with out the added pressure of growing up yourself in the process, and that ever present eye of the media. All four people in this situation are in a bad place right now, and I hope things work out best for all of them.

Shit, maybe this will be just the “wake up call” that she will actually be able to hear this time, and she can use this time to get things back on track for herself. Maybe she will grow from this experience, and will grow stronger and better as a result. It really is sad that child stars get chewed up and spit out by the “industry”, and the results are often devastating. Apparently, you have to hit the bottom before being able to make things right, when you are famous. Hopefully, this is the lowest it will go for Britney, and she can make some good in the near future. I’m rooting for you, babe.

I feel bad for Britney, and hope that she gets her kids back in the end… after she makes things right. Hopefully, she will be able to do so soon. I honestly feel the worst for the kids who are obviously being used as pawns in this whole thing, when they should just be taken care of; but by who is not for me to say… I just don’t think Kevin is the best choice; that’s all.

Oh well, what are you going to do, right?

all about me, cream of the crop, hmm interesting, near and dear, that is so gay

flashback: first day of 6th grade all over again

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I remember starting 6th grade very vividly; it was a new school, and a for me, it meant a whole slew of nervous breakdowns from your not-so typical adolescent. The summer before, I developed an eating disorder because of the level of anxiety I had about going to this new, much bigger school… I was afraid of the future, and unknowingly at the time, afraid of what I would be subjected to within the walls of this new school.

Turns out, the first days would set the stage for what I could come to expect from my fellow peers, which unfortunately remains a vivid memory to this day.

First days of class, teachers go through the roll for the first time, and as with my experience, there was no exception. However, this time, there it was: “Diane Moody. Diane? Is there a Diane in this class?”, the teachers asked, almost as if she were demanding the truth. “Um, that’s Duane.”, I replied, almost muffled by the chuckles from the entire class. “Oh, okay.”, she announced, moving on without a second thought.

Sigh.

Picture me, a pre-teen boy, much less than the “jock” that I clearly needed to be, in order to cover my obvious homosexuality, being called Diane in front of the whole class; naturally, I sunk deep into my chair with a clearly reddened face. I would only hope that this would be the last inference that I was a girl instead of a boy; but sadly I would be wrong. In fact, it sadly set the stage for the rest of my tenure as a student of the public school system. One could wonder if it was that moment that solidified those many taunts into the minds of my fellow classmates. Unfortunately, I would later find out that there was much more than a simple mistake that fueled such a vigorous need, that my classmates continually displayed, to continually tear me down.

Now, cut to this week; arrival in my anatomy lab. The professor announces that the quizzes from the previous week have been graded, and proceeds to call out names of the lucky recipients. And then, just as if time had reversed itself, there it was: “And last but not least: Diane Moody!”.

Lest my ears deceive me? There I was, in the 6th grade again… trying to escape the lifelong battle I have had with others using my homosexuality and lack of “appropriate” masculinity as means to ridicule and demean me; regardless of the fact, that if in this case, it was again, accidental.

Luckily, I am not that 6th grade pre-teen student; I am almost 30 years old now, and I am proud of my sexuality and of who I am.

“That’s actually Duane”, I replied. Quickly apologizing, I silenced his attempts to cover up his mistake, by simply stating, “Don’t worry, it isn’t the first time that I’ve been called Diane.”

With that, I took the power that others had wielded over me for so long, and put it in my back pocket; for good. Something about that really makes me feel better about having gone through what I did; if for no other reason than to finally put it to bed, for good.