Monthly Archives: October 2013

“Why Can’t You Be a MAN, Like Me?”

Hey, dear croissants, and double-tall lattes!

So, I have reappeared to talk *again* about something I never thought I could really communicate verbally. That topic, tonight, is masculinity.

It was never really a big deal to me.  Like, I was never really self-aware about myself in regards to other men, but I think today it kind of hit home.

—

So, I’m standing there, at the bus stop in Gastown, swapping stories with a homie, and I hear out of the corner of my ear:

“Are you an [F-ing] faggot?”

To my *great* joy, the “man” moved closer to my friend, and I.

“what?”

It was really all I could manage in the beginning.

“I said: ‘are you a [F-ing] faggot?” He repeated.

The alcohol was strong on his breath.
Classy.
A day-drinking homophobe.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, coyly, with my Ray-Bans covering the slight fear in my eyes.

(side note: way to poke the bear, Derrick.)

“I MEAN, ARE YOU A [F-ING] FAGGOT. IF YOU’RE A [F-ING] FAGGOT, I’LL PUNCH YOU OUT. ARE YOU A [F-ING] FAGGOT?”

—

“No, that’s not what I would call myself.”

—

“Then, why the [F] are you acting like that? You should act NORMAL. WHY CAN’T YOU BE A ‘MAN’, LIKE ME!?”

—

I didn’t know what to say to him after that.

He, then, walked over to my friend, and inquired if we were dating or not.

“I don’t like her like that…”

And with the lack of rise out of me, he went to go harass some other poor souls.  This “man” wanted a reaction, he wanted the shock value, and the violence.

He wanted to assert dominance over something (i.e. me) in true “masculine” form.

Did it get to me, though? No, It really didn’t.

—

I mean, let’s think about the question posed: “why can’t you be a man, like me?”

I clearly present my gender as male, so, there goes half of your argument, sir.

Secondly, I can’t be like you because we are two completely different people, who come from totally separate backgrounds.

I mean, I had braces to fix my teeth, which you didn’t.

You were sippin’ what looked like an MGD after you verbally harassed me, and went to go sulk on the bench.  Personally, I like to go drown my sorrows in a couple vodka-cranberries, but, to each their own.

I figured out that I didn’t like hockey, which you clearly love, on account of the Canucks jersey you so blatantly sported. Personally, though, I’ll pick my Amy Winehouse tee, and I’ll blast Frank, in its entirety, on my iPod.

I was wearing black skinnies. || You were wearing straight fit, light-wash blue jeans.

I was wearing black Vans. ||  You were wearing white Nikes.

I was born in ’95. || You were born in (probably) the ’70s.

I was wearing a toque. || You were wearing a ball-cap.

—

So, to answer your question: I can’t be a man, like you, because I was destined to be a different one.

I mean, I am not the heteronormative, masculine being that today’s media shoves down the throats of society; you got me there.

But, I like being different.

I like dyeing my hair.

I like spending insane amounts of money on apparel.

I like watching TV, somewhat obsessively.

I like dipping my fries, in ice cream.

I like it when people, occasionally, call me “D,” instead of Derrick, because it makes me feel cool.

I like listening to indie-rock bands from Gilbert, Arizona, that no one has heard of. (LYDIA)

I like my triple grande, non-fat, light-ice, half-sweet, non-fat, caramel macchiato.

I like who I am.

—

And, if all of this, makes me “less of a man,” then, cool.

—

I’m here for a reason.

Even if it’s just to corner the market on Nutella, and decide if I actually think pugs are cute, or not.

—

And, no matter what I do, HATERS GONNA HATE.

But, I’ll be damned if they faze me.

—

Peace. <3

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe, It’s Time…

Hey Barbies, and Kens,

Something I heard a few weeks ago just kind of hit me today. Like, picture a game of cat-and-mouse.  Eventually, the mouse runs out of things to hide in, and the cat wins.

It’s a bleak image. But, I’m not covering a particularly sunny topic today.  And I’m sorry if this is not what you wanted to read about, but alas, I am not all croutons, and nutella.  I need to talk about depression tonight, and suicide, and stigmas, and labels, and like, that whole egg roll.

I won’t be able to cover it all, but I just need to get some things out there, that have been sitting inside, a place where things shouldn’t stay for too long, because then they start to burn a hole, and before you know it, you’re left empty inside.

Depression is this thing that I can’t really describe, because I think it’s different for everyone.  It goes to different degrees, it hits different areas, and people react differently, because no one is in the exact same life-situation as someone else.

For me, depression is like sitting behind glass walls.  I know the world is all around me, but I also know that something is blocking it that I can’t stop.  I can hear and see all the people, cheering, smiling, and laughing.  For a while, I can even laugh with them, but then it hits me that I can’t be in their world.  I can’t laugh, and genuinely be there with them in that moment.  I mean, I can be happy for them, and smile, and maybe even manage a laugh, but I can’t be truly happy inside, even with everything going right.  Depression, to me, is seeing that glass wall, and knowing that no one else can, and even if they could see it, they’d think you could just break free.

I still get sad sometimes, or overwhelmed, or what not.  I’m human like that.  Sometimes, I just need someone to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, even if they don’t know for sure.  Sometimes, I just need a really corny joke to sarcastically laugh at.   Sometimes, I need someone to tell me that I am enough to them, because I will never feel like enough to myself.  I mean, I’m not suicidal in times of sadness, but some people are.  So many so that suicide is now the #2 killer of teens in BC.  That’s what hit me today.  The magnitude of it all.

That people get really sad, and stressed, and overwhelmed, sometimes to the point of no return.

And sometimes they don’t want to talk about it. Talking about it is hard, because people judge you for it, and call you “crazy,” and see you differently, but talking about it is what needs to happen more, because this whole thing is bigger than one person.  If it wasn’t, people wouldn’t die every day because of it.

So, maybe it’s time to start talking, before it’s too late.

My Brain is Delicate…

HEY, SQUIRRELS.

Because there are so. many. squirrels. around campus.  Literally, I overheard some guy say he was going to squirrel hunt this weekend. I was like wow. you are so cool. how do I become you?

And he was like. you can’t. I am you.\

/ and then I got a thousand and three re-blogs on tumblr. Except for PETA.

and everyone was like wow derrick, you are deeper than the deepest depths in the sea. and then we wrote various forms of haiku together, and ate baked quinoa bars that my vegan friend made. It was an average Thursday. #tbt

No, but seriously, guys, I have a point… and the whole guy wanting to go squirrel hunting did happen.

—-

ANYWAY. My point is I basically had the best lecture of my university career today. It was so good, I’m beginning to think that I will actually have a “university career,” and not drop out and become a B-List porn star who works from home.

I seriously thought I hated the class (GRSJ101), but today something just clicked, and I removed my taupe-coloured ignorance glasses and saw the world in a new light today.

I would try to explain it, but my summary powers weaken after a certain hour (8:43PM) and I tend to ramble.

Our generation has a giant battle ahead of fighting the ideals, and heteronormativity presented, though.

I would take more time to explain all these concepts, but like, you have google, and you can figure this out. (and my definition powers are shot..)

And it’s much more interesting if I conclude saying that I finally felt that feeling that people talk about where you come out of a class completely numb, with a new perspective, because you felt like everything you knew going in was a lie.

This feeling is different for everyone, though. Like, I felt really nauseous for about 30mins after. and my head hurt.

but in a good way.

and that’s why i’m at university, I guess.

 

MAY YOUR BRAIN HURT IN THE BEST WAYS.

(and may all your prayers go towards the squirrels, because they might get shot, and die this weekend…)

 

I’M PREGNANT

(Cool, it’s good to know that pregnancy at a reasonably young age still gets people’s attention. Like, my faith in humanity has been temporarily restored.)

So, let me be the first to say, HAPPY OCTOBER…! (Okay, minus the happy, right?)

But, seriously, we’ve almost made it through a month.

Can you hold on for a second, life? You’re going by too fast.

In that time, I’ve encountered countless new faces, countless questionable hot dishes, and one priceless look from my ASTU prof, when I walked in late, with a cob of corn hanging from my mouth.

Last week, though, I had to give birth to my FIRST academic paper. [shrieking]

The experience was pretty terrifying/exhausting mentally.  I basically felt like I was on 16 and Pregnant, and I was going to shoot out something that would basically haunt me for the rest of my life, as it was coming out too soon, with not enough thought put into it.

So, I had to deal with the aftermath of that, which was not doing my readings for my other class that day. And we did an in-class reflection on the readings, which I did not read. And it was 10% of my final mark. And I sort of cried inside for five minutes, but then I wrote down some gibberish on the paper to make it actually look like some “reflecting” was done internally, but really my brain was just like:

But, like, that is what first year is all about, right?

Making every single mistake possible, so that you’ll never make the same one again?

But, I never make the same mistake twice…

…I make it three or four times, just to make sure that it is indeed truly a bad thing.

SO, CHEERS, TO ROYALLY SCREWING UP! GO BIG, OR GO HOME!

and MAY ALL YOUR FEARS OF MAKING MISTAKES REST IN PEACE.