Monday, June 15, 2009


I was watching the View this morning and the ladies were discussing Chastity Bono's decision to have a sex-change operation to become a man.

Most of the women kept their right-wing dislike of things and people "outside the norm" at bay and focused instead on being parents and their desire to "protect their children from harm", that they would hate to see their child go through something like that because of "the way that other people would treat them and try to hurt them". Their words were wonderfully ironic for so many reasons, the underlying message from most of the women seemed to be "I wouldn't want a gay child because gay people are looked upon as being wrong in society and I only want my child to be right so that they can be anything and anyone they want to be".

The part that really stuck in my craw was when Barbara Walters reiterated several times that "parents should not blame themselves". I take offence at the usage of the word blame. Ms. Walters seems to be implying that a child being gay or transgendered is wrong and that someone needs to take responsibility for the wrongdoing. Blame should not come into it. If these children had taken guns into their high school and shot up the place, if they were killing small animals for sport, if they were organizing hate rallies then some blame should be placed. These are not children that have committed murder, these are children who have decided to come out to their parents and just want to be accepted and loved.

I'm not gay or transgendered but I want to be accepted and loved and love and accept. Good thing my parents don't need to blame themselves.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Portrait Of a Broken Girl

The Hopeless Romantic saw the top of the mountain, saw the brass ring within reaching distance and just as she reached for it, just as she took that last step that would bring her to the summit she heard a popping noise and felt a dull pain in her chest.

Her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces, each smaller than the other so that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men would never be able to put them back together again.

She crumpled to the ground, her life’s essence bleeding out of her into the rocky ground below her. She tried to breathe, tried to lift her head up, tried to stand but to no avail. She had no idea what had happened, no clue as to why she was now becoming a husk of her former self.

Just yesterday the sky was blue, the sun shone like a golden ball of life, the grass sung under her feet and the wind carried her on her way. But now the sky was grey, the sun gone, the grass was now rock and the wind was bitterly cold.

With her last dying breath she begged forgiveness for whatever it was she had done to cause her such pain, begged for forgiveness and a quick death. She knew it was not to be.

As the last part of her life drained out of her she stood up and faced the wind. A broken down and empty shell of her former self she started to walk back home. She had things to do and places to be.

In her death she had learned nothing.