The 11th Plague

Passover is a weeklong festival that we recall the exodus of the Jews from Egypt slavery and remember the famous event that took the nation by, well what else, storm. The ten plagues. You may know them as; blood, frogs, lice, flies, disease on livestock, boils, hail, locusts, darkness and the death of the first born. All of these events would be fatal and catastrophic if they infected our nation as a whole. But there is one plague that is not mentioned but is very relevant and affecting our nation in a very negative way; homophobia.

By definition homophobia is described as 'unreasoning fear of or antipathy toward homosexuals and homosexuality'. By action it is seen as beatings, negative slurs, threats and/or discrimination. As all homosexuals, both lesbian and gay men, are susceptible to this hatred, transsexuals are targeted more frequently. As is shown by recent events on April 18th in Baltimore Maryland when Chrissy Polis was brutally attacked by a 14 year old and an 18 year old female in a McDonalds Restaurant. This infuriates me to the fullest because in 2007, a dear friend and old roommate Katrina was shot to death for being a transsexual. This homophobia, especially high in the south, needs to end and be obliterated. What shocks me next is the fact that a McDonalds employee stood by and videotaped it instead of helping, which I was told many employees cheered the girls on.

I blame the parents, fanatic churches who preach homosexuals a sin and society as a whole. If kids are taught to accept and coexist with everyone at an early age, there wouldn't be any type of hate crimes. It is like the time of segregation: the kids couldn't tell the difference between skin color until the parents told them it was not okay to play with the nigger child from Macon. There is no excuse for ignorance and death don’t cure stupidity, so as we live then things need to change and change now. I shouldn't have to look over my shoulder when I hold my boyfriend's hand in Compton, or kiss my husband in Atlanta, or hug my girlfriend in Dallas. I shouldn't have to be harassed at Gay Pride by idiots who think it's okay to miss church service to hold up signs saying 'G-d Hates Fags' and 'Homo sex is a sin'. There shouldn’t be protests at military funerals saying 'Fags Doom Nation'. But when it happens, when it is encouraged, then it's the hatred that dooms the nation.

Miss Polis and other transsexuals, homosexuals and lesbians shouldn’t have to live in fear in places that lynch people that aren’t blonde hair, blue eyed heterosexual Christians. We shouldn’t have to stay in our houses because we have a rainbow flag in our window and the torch wielding villagers are outside yelling 'Kill the monster!' And while I am on this notion of homophobia as the 11th plague, our OWN gay community needs to grow the fuck up and get over their 5th century fears of effeminate men.

How can we expect change if WE don't change. Posting words like 'no fats, no fems' when looking for a mate doesn’t make you a man, it makes you a punk. It shows how little you know about the people outside of your world and only by what you see on TV. People who say 'Men should act like men and not women' shows the self-hatred in themself because they fear someone might 'mistake' them as gay. Well, guess what honey, YOU ARE GAY. This Down Low life is just the gas station for homophobia to stop, fill up and get a coffee on the way.

Stop the hatred, both to yourself and to others. Change your mindset and then we can change the world. One gay at a time. One girl at time. One person at a time. Ken yehi ratzon: May it be G-d's will.

Death in Magic Except 1

Uriel allowed me to sleep the rest of that night and when I woke at the break of dawn, I figured he had withdrawn into his sleep under the house. As I turned over in the bed, I grabbed my pearl rosary from the edge of the bed and put it around my neck. I would’ve fallen back to sleep in complete ecstasy from the night before if what happened next didn’t frighten me to the core. Lucy screamed with much agony. I heard it like it was inside of me even though it was a mile away. I shot up, jumped into my pants, yanked my tinted glasses off the table and ran out the house and toward my horse, which was up. But I heard the scream again and decided there was no time to get to the stable, saddle up and ride, so I ran quickly toward town. My speed began to pick up as I called out Lucy’s name and began to see smoke from the distance. The screaming became more excruciating and bone curdling as I picked up speed and entered the town. No one was on the streets or in their shops. The smoke was coming from Lucy’s booth and it had begun to catch fire. Two men stood at the entrance looking inside and I ran up to them. Before I could ask what had happened, they tried to attack me. The first man, who was overweight and short, swung his fist at my face and the second man, who was also overweight but taller, tried to grab hold of me. Without thought, I grabbed the first man’s fist in midair and snapped it out of place. He plummeted to the ground in pain. The second guy, who had stopped in mid-movement, abruptly started running away. Lucy’s booth was completely engulfed and I had seen a lifeless body bound to a stake and swallowed up in fire.


“Lucy.” I muttered. For that moment, I had completely forgotten about the fat man on the ground until he wrapped his unbroken hand around my ankle. My anger arose and I immediately kicked him with my free foot and broke his jaw. I would’ve killed the man if my mind hadn’t picked up even more danger. My heart sank when I felt my home, our home, was being invaded. I would’ve felt the men around my house if I wasn’t concerned with this elderly woman’s (who I had befriended) life. My emotion was tied into saving her and now that I knew what her fate was, my guard was down. I screamed Uriel’s name as it was the last breath I would take in my life and began running toward the house. My father told me that in time of war, when men were taxed out on battle, there was always a trigger that would snap in them and they would be instantly renewed somehow. It was called adrenalin. And it was flowing through my veins like the fire it felt. Or it could've been Uriel's blood. No way to tell. I called out Uriel’s name again when I saw the house go up in flames and a group of townspeople standing around with tall crucifixes, torches and my horse. A guy, who was no older than me and equally built, turned toward me as I ran up and tried to push me away.

“That’s my house!” I yelled with so much hate in my voice, it scared even me. He just kept pushing me away and when I heard a loud screech from inside; I grabbed the intruders arm and swung him around me and over the cliff into the lake. The other people took notice and tried to block me from entering. At that moment I saw Jeffery, the baker, exit the house with a hand held cross and I was furious. With great force, I pushed people aside like they were little twigs in the way of a path and when I met Jeffery face to face, I heard the screech from inside again. The fire was enraged, like my insides, and the door was almost falling off. I pushed Jeffery aside and made my way to the house. When I entered, everything was clouded by smoke and covered with fire. The bed we made love on was a mass of inferno and the temperature was rising by the second. I heard the screech a third time and saw Uriel branded to the wall by the sunlight, black wings extended as far as the wall itself and wrapped up violently with fire. At that moment, my life didn’t mean anything. I wanted to save Uriel’s. If I could grab and run him to the lake before he died, I could save him. As I pushed pieces of the roof that had collapsed out the way, I heard Jeffery behind me.

“Die creature of the night! It is Christ Jesus who condemns you to hell for eternity!”

That chant was something I heard in the stories my mother told to me in many of her bedtime tales and my heart began to weep.

She must have endured this situation before.

But I couldn’t think of that now. I forged my way through the fire, getting singed as I got closer; but when Uriel’s eyes met mine, I froze. Only for a fraction of a second did I see pity in his eyes and before I knew it, one of his wings flapped and blew me right out of the fire through the nearest window with tremendous energy.

Life in the Notebook Entry 1

Sunday, April 03, 2011

So I mean I figure that if I want to establish myself in this writing/blogger world, I might as well, um, maybe start writing. More writing that is *wink*. So what better way to start back on it than doing a reality style blog entry every now and then? Its like the most brilliant plan I have ever come up with. Don’t laugh. I am dead ass serious. And you get to see how I really talk when I am not thinking of correct word usage and trying to impress the big people. And by ‘big people’ I mean my Facebook friends.

Okay, so I’m in Target and I am getting ready to start on my ‘Vision Board’ that I had read in the book called ‘The Secret’. It’s a book about the laws of attraction and how what you put out in the universe will come back to you. So putting positive energy and words out there, you get positive things back to you. You get the picture. Well, I going down the aisle with the bulletin boards and going through the piles of overpriced ones till I found the cheapest board. And when you find something cheap at Target, its really actually expensive compared to places like, oh I don’t know, maybe, Wal-Mart. So oddly enough, the asile I am on houses those tall religious Catholic candles with the pictures of the Virgin Mary or the famous fictional character, Jesus. And this child, who can’t be no more than like 7, runs up to a Jesus candle and starts yelling, “Mommy, mommy, Jesus is here! He is here! He returned! He returned! But wait, why aren’t we in Heaven now?” Is it wrong that I just laughed so hard I almost stopped breathing? Good thing I had my headset in and pretended I was talking on the phone.

Now, I live in Los Angeles, or Long Beach to some people, and I am pretty alone on most days because I took it upon myself to pack up and move 400 miles away from all my close friends. I have two that I hold dear to my heart and they are the ones I talk to every day, or if I miss a day, twice a day. Yes, I am that loved. Tonee and Ivan. No truer friends have ever been uttered into my life. Today, after a huge fight with this guy about why I didn’t put salt in my DIETARY soup that ended in him walking out, I was left with this task he had promised me. Making an omelet. Now for people who really know me, I have like minus 2 cooking skills. The only thing I can make is macaroni and cheese from scratch (stop laughing) and the ‘three day slow cooked greens’ my grandmother taught me to make. But who am I kidding, that’s just stirring fucking vinegar and hot sauce in a pot full of water and collard greens. Who can’t do that?

So anyways, I start chopping up things I want to put in my omelet; peppers, onions, mushrooms and I sit at the table and go ‘Oh shit, how the fuck do I make an omelet?’ So instead of waiting for my MetroPCS internet to take 12 days to load a page on how to make the perfect omelet, I message one of the greatest cooks I know, Ivan. After the initial shock of my actual request, I was told to take a pan, mix in my ingredients as I wished into the eggs and put it in the pan as it heated up. Well, no one told me till after that I wasn’t supposed to have the heat on high. I’m sitting there wondering why my eggs are brown on the pan side but all liquidy on top. “Is your heat on high?” “Um, yes.” “Turn it down” “I cant, it only goes from ‘off’ with a space and then ‘high’ and ‘lite’.” “Turn it to the space.” “Ooooh, I didn’t know I could do that with gas fire.”

Okay, don’t judge me. I have been unsuccessful with gas stoves so I just try not to use them. My omelet came out great though! So what it was burnt on one side? I still ate it. Even if I am the only one who eats my own cooking. Look out Top Chef, I am going to put myself in the running. *Rockstar!*