Graduation from college: best thing ever.

I don't know what happened.

I really don't.

I was depressed over graduating not too long ago. I was depressed over leaving my friends, over leaving the campus I'd come to call home for four years, over moving on to the next chapter of my life. I cried most of the ride home back to New York. I cried when I got home that night, listening to sad music (cue the "Here's To The Nights" and "Time Of Your Life" -- I even broke out "Friends Forever" from the 2001-ish era).

And now?

Now, I feel like I could conquer the world. I feel like nothing could ever get me down ever again. And, this is probably TMI, but I'm even PMSing and I'm still feeling awesome.

I don't know what changed. Something inside of me just clicked. I woke up and I realized that spending my life being upset, being regretful, being constantly stuck in the vortex of the past wasn't going to do me any good. It's cliche, but I started living in the present. And I've never been able to do it before. Not until now.

I've adopted new life philosophies. Primarily, the idea that this life is mine. No one else has it. No one else is priviledged enough to have it. No one else would make the same decisions that I've made and will make. And because this life is mine, and only mine, it's unique. It's worth exploring, celebrating, feeling, experiencing, and above all, living.

I could harp on the past 'til I died. I could spend my entire life looking back, rather than looking at the world around me. I could talk about how I wish I knew my birth mother for years. Eons. I could talk about how I felt a loss of identity because I didn't and don't know her. I could. But I've decided not to.

I've decided to take charge of my life because you know what? No one else is going to do it for me. No one else can. It's up to me to start living the right way.

So. I'm choosing life. I'm choosing positive things. I'm choosing friends. I'm choosing family. I'm choosing letting go when I have to let go. I'm choosing healthy food options. I'm choosing doing yoga. I'm choosing meditation. I'm choosing burning incense and chilling out. I'm choosing to be excited over the unknowns of life. I'm choosing positive energies, both giving and receiving. I'm choosing karma and improving this shithole of a world.

I'm choosing to live.

And I have never, ever felt more at peace with myself, the world, and the universe.

- May (you find your reason for life).

Prop 8. No, Really. Why?

Well.

Again.

California has proven itself to be less progressive than Iowa. People, are you listening? Iowa and Maine are MORE progressive than California. California, land of surfers, sun, beach, sand, SAN FRANSISCO (rivaled only by Provincetown, Massachusetts and the entirety of the Village, New York City), and happy cows (from which comes good cheese) is less progressive than Iowa, which has nothing really notable in it, and Maine, land of lobster and snow. Did I mention that Iowa and Maine are stereotypically full of backwards people?

Don't get your long johns in a twist -- I said stereotypically.

Somehow, the majority managed to overturn these people:



I mean, look at them! Raising their fists and rainbow flags to fight injustice! There's even a large man wearing a pink shirt, for Pete's sake. Also, side note, who is Pete? And why are we always excusing ourselves on his behalf?

Anyway, I just don't get it. I don't think I'll ever get it. Love is love is love.

But if you need some convincing as to why you should vote NO on Prop 8, if it ever comes around again (which it probably will), might I offer:

The National Organization For Marriage's "The Gathering Storm" video. It's a repost, but you know what, it's SO ridiculous that it deserves to be posted twice. Because listening to it once is just enough to melt your brain. The second time around, the rest of your explodes.



Jason Mraz's comical picture to show his lack of support for Prop 8.



And if those don't work, have a picture of me, pissed at the way things are going. You don't want me going all Ninja (yes, I realize those are typically Japanese and not Korean) on your ass. I'm serious.



Now. Once you've gone and changed your now-brown underwear (or long johns), go out and fight against this stupid, stupid ban. Even if you're not in California. I don't care. Go out and fight. Organize. Something. Anything. Just do it and do it for love.

- May (you remember love).

New York, New York!

We are officially one step closer to legalizing Same-Sex Marriage in New York!

The NYS Assembly passed the bill today (89 to 52)! Now, it's on to the Senate, and if it passes there, then Governor David Paterson must sign it, which he has already said he would. The Assembly already had passed this bill back in 2007, but I think that since so many states have already legalized it, now's the time it'll actually happen. I mean, if Iowa and Maine are more progressive than New York, which houses such areas as The Village, something is seriously wrong.

Anyway, this bit of legislative action is, in a word, awesome!

A quote from Mayor Bloomberg pretty much sums it up: "I applaud ... members of both parties for moving this historic legislation forward."

California, you'd better catch up. Over-turn Prop 8 now!

Here's the article at CNN.com.

- May (you take your steps in the right direction).

Don't Ask, Don't Tell Leads to Ignorance

Because I was sucked into the world of Twitter, I've been following a slew of different people. Some are celebrities, like Rainn Wilson and Jason Mraz (well, his Joyoligist, since she's doing the Tweeting). Others have to do with politics, like one account called Obamawatcher.

Something caught my about one of the twats: "Obama Caving on Gays in the Military." There's an article at The Huffington Post about it, which is what the link was in the twat (sorry, Mraz, I stole that term from you; the PC term would be tweet).

Anyway .. I don't think I've ever really fully understood the DADT policy. What does someone's sexual orientation have to do with his/her ability to protect his/her country? No, this is really a question I'd like someone to asnwer.

Seriously.

How does having a sexual preference for the same gender mean that you're unworthy of doing a civic duty? Especially since there isn't a draft and so many men and women (the "special and straight" ones, mind you) are being sent back for their third or fourth tour because there's a shortage of soldiers.

But really. Are people afraid that they're going to "catch the gay" or something? Are they worried that if they spend time in close quarters with someone who is homosexual, they're going to get hit on? First of all -- a compliment's a compliment, regardless of who gives it. Get over it and be flattered. Secondly, is that the worst that can happen? Someone gets uncomfortable because someone thinks they're attractive?

Please, someone explain the point of this policy to me. Why, logically (that's the key word here), does it matter whether someone is straight or gay? When an enemy's charging at you with a gun or a bomb, I don't think it matters.

To quote the verifiably insane and talented Jack Nicholson from "The Departed:" ... Today, what I'm saying to you is this: when you're facing a loaded gun, what's the difference?

- May (you make the right decision when the time comes).

Also, Obama, please hurry the hell up and dissolve this policy. KTHNXBYE.

God, I Should Just Start Bleating

I pride myself on my abilities to stand against the crowd. It's like the one time I was at a Backstreet Boys concert, back in my teeny bopper days, and I ran AGAINST a horde of screaming girls. Have you ever tried to run against hundreds of hormonally charged 12 and 13 year-olds? Who are chasing what they think to be the tour bus of their fake boyfriends/husbands/future soulmates? Yeah. I did that. And I lived to tell the tale. And I didn't even get injured.

That point aside, I've caved in. I've become one of the masses. In my efforts to not conform, I've slipped myself into the stupid mold.

I'm now on Twitter. Feel free to follow the ever-exciting (read: it's a lie) life of mine.

http://twitter.com/tidestheyturn

Yeah. Have fun with that.

- May (you live enough to have tales to tell).

Widget

I've Got Blisters On These Fingahs!

My pointer, middle, and ring finger on my left hand hurt from the blisters that I've self-induced by playing the guitar so much these past few days. I don't really mind the pain. Does that make me a masochist? Hm. I probably am.

I still suck like a Dyson vacuum though. Despite all my practicing and the blisters and the hours of time put into it. My hand was just not meant to play a guitar I don't think. I can barely spread my fingers across an octave on the piano -- it's that much harder on a guitar, and I can't really stretch beyond two frets on a good day. Also, my left hand is kind of like the "very special" cousin twice-removed of my right hand and is not nearly as nimble or quick (jumping over a candlestick) as my right hand. Maybe I should try playing a lefty guitar. Or maybe I should get one made for kids. I bet I could reach more than two frets' worth on that.

A friend of mine yelled at me for downgrading myself to an electric due to my small hand-span. He told me that anyone can sound good on an electric (and I can even convince myself with a few songs that I'm moderately good and will soon become a rockstar) but that an acoustic is where it's at. There's nothing like the meaty, raw sound of an acoustic guitar. I explained that I would love to learn how to play it properly, but that my hand is the size of a four year-old's. He suggested I look into a Baby Taylor, which .. I may have to do, once I have money again.

So. My fingers are blistered. They hurt. They burn when they're near hot objects (cooking myself dinner tonight was fun). They ache when I touch them on things, rendering them near useless as they're fingers, used for touching. Still .. I guess it's all a good pain. Something about the greater good, sacrificing for the craft, blah dee blah.

I just have one thing to say: this better improve my chi or my in-touch-ness with the musical universe. I like to imagine John Lennon listening from Heaven, cringing every time he sees me grab my guitar and prop it on my leg. I imagine him going, in his Liverpool-ian accent, "Oh for Christ's sake, not 'er again!" and covering his ears. I also picture him hanging out with Gandhi and JFK.

Is that weird?

- May (your wounds heal).

It's Official.

I hate New England weather.

I should probably mention that I've hated it for a long time. Probably since I first step foot on the soils of the small Ocean State four years ago. I came ill-equipped to my first year of college: no rain boots, no rain coat, no umbrella. Sure, it rains in New York, but not like New England.

I smartened up my second year. I bought a pair of rain boots from Target.com and they have probably been one of the best investments I ever made. I now have a rain coat, too, after having needing one when I lived in London for a month.

But as I sit at my desk, the tips of my fingers nearly blue and frozen and falling off (okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit), with the roar of the wind and the rain crashing against the bricks outside of my apartment ... I realize how much I really do loathe the weather.

Yet.

I'm going to miss it in 12 days. I'll pack up all of my things and leave this room the way I entered it -- empty, without personality, without sheets on the bed or crap all over the floor (not literal crap, mind you), without the drawers full of clothes and things, without laughter and tears and memories. It'll hit me during the first rainstorm of the summer, back in New York. I'll pull out my boots and my rain coat and somehow ..

I'll feel incomplete.

And maybe, just maybe, a little, tiny piece of me will miss the freezing cold of a New England rainstorm in the beginning of May. Maybe a little piece of me will smile nostalgically as I think about how it can still get so cold, even when it's in the midst of Spring. Maybe a little piece of me will even miss hearing the roars over the Red Sox winning a -- you know what, no. That won't ever happen.

Sorry. I'm clearly getting delusional.

- May (you let go when you need to let go).