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Bohemian Writings

And when I capture it in print, does it mean that it's the end, and I'm alone?

5/3/09 09:26 pm - A letter to the National Organization for Marriage.

To Whom It May Concern,

My name is Quinn, and you have accused me of a constitutional crime. Let me explain.

I grew up in a conservative Christian household, believing everything that the Church stands for and states. When the time came, I chose to attend Wheaton College in Illinois, and what I saw there changed my mind forever. I saw the hypocrisy and two-faced nature of the fundamentalist movement, especially when it came to embracing others who do not agree with Christianity.

None of that is relevant to my current point, however, I believe it is important to state where I'm coming from with this complaint. I know your position, and I understand your fear and distrust of gay marriage.

However, I must step up, as I have been accused of a constitutional crime, a crime against the very basis of our society, the laws on which our country is founded. Your advertisement accuses me of limiting your freedom of speech, something that I myself hold quite dear. I have always been an advocate of this basic inalienable right, and feel personally assaulted that I have been accused of it.

You see, I am engaged to a woman. She is the love of my life, and our relationship is one of unconditional love, much closer to the love of Jesus than most heterosexual ones that I have come across. I wish to marry her in the near future, when we can get the paperwork together.

You would wish to stop that, though. If you would have your way, I would be arrested just like in the eighteenth century and sent to jail for my love. There is a simple problem with that, however. You can't. Fifty years ago, you would have had me jailed if I was in love with an African-American, and bi-racial couples have been lovingly married for decades now. Are you saying that even they should go back to not having legal marriages? You might as well be, because your arguments are quite similar to those opposing bi-racial marriage. I will not try to change your mind, though. You have the right to your opinion, just as I have the right to mine.

I have to ask one question, though. Since when does the action of another limit what you can say or do? My love is not hindering your religion. I am not telling your church that they have to marry me. I am not telling you that you must attend. In fact, I'm not even telling you what to believe. I firmly believe that you have the right to your opinion. That is the foundation of America. For you to have the right to say what you wish, I must have the right to say what I wish. That is the basis of free speech. What happens in my home and in my life is in no way hindering your ability to believe in Jesus, or live your life how you wish. Taking your logic to an extreme, we should ban pork because religions in America are against it, fine people when they swear, and perhaps even go back to Prohibition. That's not possible. We can't legislate morality. America was founded on the principle that people have the right to believe what they wish. Jefferson wrote that we have three inalienable rights: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. How are two people pursuing their own happiness limiting your happiness? What is it about two people being allowed to marry that keeps you from being able to express yourself? You have every right to ignore them. You have every right to teach your children that it's wrong, and believe it yourself.

So, frankly, why are you limiting my free speech? You don't know me. You've never met me, but you are accusing me of a crime for living my life. In fact, you are accusing someone who has spent years studying the formation of America and the constitution of violating that document which they hold so dear.

If you still believe I have committed a crime, send the police. Arrest me. I have included my address to make things easier. Take me to jail for what I believe in. I will go because I know that I am innocent. I do not hate you. I would never do anything that would hinder someone's speech or liberty. All I am doing is living my life in the way I believe I should, just as I believe you are.

What do I want from this? Nothing, really. An apology would be nice, but I know that you are too determined in your beliefs to do that, as I would be if I were in your place. In a perfect world, however, I would like you to think. Whoever you are that reads this, take it to your boss. Let them take it to their boss, and further up the chain. Realize that you are doing what you are accusing others of doing. I am not making you change your views, just perhaps change your tactics.

Sincerely,
Quinn
[Address removed for LJ post]

4/5/09 04:27 am - A Story.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She grew up the only child of two Christian parents, learning everything that she needed to be a good woman, and a good child of God. She believed everything she was told because there was nothing else to believe. It was her entire life, her religion and her God. It was the truth, and the truth told her how to behave. However, as she grew, she realized the world and her small family were not as perfect as she believed.

Following her determination and her heart, she started becoming another person at school, more brash, more harsh, but also more loving. This dichotomy was easy to keep up, as her parents were rarely around her friends. However, when she was ten, things started to collide. Her parents were around one night when she was around her friends, and it gave her a headache, trying to be two people at once; the girl she felt she was, and the girl her parents wanted her to be.

Her family, however, was falling apart in front of her eyes. Her parents would argue almost every evening, her mother yelling to decibles that she was certain the neighbors would hear, not to mention throwing up after each yelling session. Each night, she would curl up under the covers of her canopy bed (which she had always wanted, and her father had gotten as a surprise) and pray and pray and pray that it would stop, that her family would go back to the way it was, that her parents would love her again.

That's when it started. Small, at first, just staring at a window and thinking, but grew, grew to sitting on the windowsill and willing herself to just lean a bit further. One night, when she couldn't take it anymore, she downed half a bottle of Tylenol, and with a prayer went to bed. Unfortunately in her eyes, she woke a few hours later, ridding herself involuntarily of what she thought would be her saviour.

It didn't change. One day, however, she told someone about it, someone in her church that she thought she trusted. Her mother found out and accused her of lying and taking the family's problems outside of the family. A cardinal sin, it would seem. Cowed, the girl bottled it up even more, delving deeper and deeper into herself. On the outside, at her school, she was outgoing, caring to her friends, and a seemingly normal (if a bit over-conservative) teenager.

Another move and she was in highschool, trying to make her way in a fascinatingly diverse group of students. First she wanted to be a doctor, then a politician, then a music teacher. Inside, however, she was falling apart. Homework was being forgotten in favour of nights of reading, of yelling and being yelled at. Wednesdays were spent at church, learning, teaching, and determinedly being -right-. She would wear Christian shirts to school, certain that she had the answer to everything. No, there's no pushing, there's no Bible-banging, but it was there. She did everything right. She truly believed what she said.

Inside, as always, she was torn apart. All that was there was a burned-out shell of a person, and the people around her knew it. She tried too hard. She flirted too hard, she reached out too much for that one connection, that one love that she could grab onto and keep for her very own.

Her mother would not admit that she needed help at first. She just needed to pull herself up and keep going, keep fighting the good fight. That wasn't enough, however. It wasn't enough to just try. So she saw a doctor, and got the pink pills. They worked for a while, but it all came back. Harder. One night, she took the modem cord and tried to strangle herself. She'd even written the note. The cord broke, and she was back where she was.

Eventually, it affected her schoolwork, and that was the last straw for her parents. They did everything they could to get her to calm down, to just be normal, but she couldn't. Or wouldn't. They locked her in the house, with double-deadbolts on each door when they left, they slapped her across the face when she was hysterical, and finally, they sent her to lose a part of her life to a fuzzy week in a mental hospital.

After the hospital, she was determined to go to the very Christian college that had accepted her based on essays that her mother mostly wrote. Going, she was still certain that it was what God wanted her to do. The summer before, however, she met a man at a Christian camp, almost certain that this was the man she was going to marry.

They kept up a correspondance while she was at school, learning, and quietly getting more frustrated. The dichotomy returned with a vengeance the few times her parents were around. She worried that her closest friends weren't good enough, so she would go through elabourate charades to make sure that no one met each other. It eventually failed, but her parents liked her friends, so it didn't matter.

Her first summer of school changed her life, although she would never have known it at the time. She discovered an online community through a web-based role-play game. She spent hours and hours at work dreaming up her character, and composing her story in her head. At night, she would be her character, a strong confident girl from Ender's Battle School. Between her boyfriend and her new love of the game, she was fairly happy. In the middle of the summer, her boyfriend's friends paid for her to go out and visit him as a surprise. Her parents freaked, saying that her boyfriend was nuts, and he wasn't the kind of person she should be seeing, mostly because it was a long-distance relationship. She didn't care. She thought she loved him, and broke down miserably when she was not allowed to go. Although she didn't realize it, that was the beginning of the end.

Going back to school, she got even deeper into her game, and started to really think about herself and her God and her life. School was unsatisfying, as she noticed the hypocricy of both the students and the professors. The more she saw, the more she longed for her online community of people who were confident, loving, and inclusive. Then it really started. She found that if she took a razor blade and ran it along her wrist, a bit of blood would come out. No one noticed at first, so she kept doing it when things got too painful. It was a way to let it all out, a release for the pain that was still there. Eventually, one of her friends did notice, but all that made her do was get longer sleeves. She broke up with her boyfriend after he almost proposed because she was scared. Somehow, what she was so certain of didn't feel right anymore.

At the end of the school year, after a bout of mono and a depression like no other, she left the school, not knowing if she would return. When she got back home, things got worse and worse. All she could see was pain, and all she could do is cry and reach out. Two people from her game opened their house to her. Together, they planned how to get her out of her house and to live with them. In her panic and worry that she wouldn't be allowed to go, she didn't tell her parents, just packed some suitcases and left, only leaving a note. Once the fuss from leaving died down, she settled in to her new life, a life where she could actually decide things for herself, and figure out where she stood on everything.

Time passed, some of her friends moved on, some stayed. She found another boyfriend, but it really wasn't a relationship. Ever since she was small, she had been attracted to women. At first, she just thought it was the cross she had to bear, that it was her struggle to keep it under wraps. However, in her new thinking, in her new world, it wasn't a bad thing. It was something that she could explore, and perhaps even admit to herself. It took a while, and a close friend with a girlfriend before she really admitted to herself that she probably didn't just like men.

Life moved on, time moved on, she changed her online community, she moved out of her friends' house, and she had an almost girlfriend, but was there really anything there? She didn't know, chalked it up to just a roommate who ended up hating her and moved on. However, she didn't move on. Her roommate moved out and left her alone and jobless. The cutting came back, going deeper this time, opening a wound time and time again. One person kept her signing online, her best friend, who could always make her laugh, the one person that she really believed cared about her. All of her friends who had brought her there had moved on in their own lives. It wasn't something she faulted them for, it just happened.

Eventually, she moved on as well, but not before her best friend confessed her love. That moment, she realized that she loved her too. It was only love that had gotten her through almost dying, almost overdosing on her inhaler while she was cutting her wrist. That love kept sustaining her, through a homeless shelter, and a group home after yet another move.

Finally, though, she found a group, a volunteer job that she loved, and that loved her. She could be herself, or at least as much of herself as she felt that the world could accept. She accepted that, however, because she had such a good thing going. Her fears, though, started again, as her parents lived in the area and stopped by every so often. They approved of what she was doing, however, so it was not too bad. What they did not know wouldn't hurt them.

Back before one of her moves, her mother had read a notebook (typical, she'd been doing it since her daughter was quite small) and found out that she had a girlfriend, waxing crankily about the evils of homosexuality and how it wasn't what God wanted for her. She brushed it off, more mad that her mother had read her notebook than anything else. It probably wouldn't last, nothing did for her. It seemed to be forgotten for years, however, her parents moving on to bigger and better things.

As with everything in her life, however, her success and her family wasn't to last. Things at her job started to go downhill. Little tihngs at first, snowballing into a huge mess. She blamed herself for losing her good thing, beating herself up mercilessly for losing what probably couldn't have been kept in the first place. She was homeless yet again, sustaining herself in hotels, in her car, and on a friend's floor for about a month, eventually finding a kind heart at an area college.

All colleges have breaks, however, and then she went to one friend's and finally found a place at more kind-hearted friends in the town where she had been so many times to visit her girlfriend at college. By this point, she was being held together mostly by her girl's love and sheer stubborn determination. Years ago, she made a promise to her girl that she wouldn't hurt herself or do anything stupid, and she was more than determined to keep it.

That is the end of the tale, but not of the story. All through her life, she had struggled with the dichotomy of her past and her present. The Fundamentalist Christian doctrines clashed with what she felt, and what she saw in other people, both religious and not. Some days, when the pain was too much, she would sit back and wonder if she was right after all. Her friends called her compassionate, an empath, an ear whenever it was needed. However, she felt anything but. She felt selfish, charmed, always somehow keeping going no matter what, leaving pieces of herself, and pieces of chaos in her wake whenever she left. In her eyes, she couldn't keep relationships, people would always see her for who she really was and leave. If she knew anything, that was it. Sometimes late at night (and sometimes not-so-late) she would sit curled up and wonder if her parents were actually right, if everything she was and everything she was doing was wrong.

It was a struggle she would always have, she knew. Even though she was certain that her girl would always be in her life, even though she was determined to get married, she knew that doubt would always be there, the dichotomy of life always a part of her existance. Her parents, however, did not and would not respect that. Her strenght was cynical stubbornness, her pain a sign that she wasn't right with God and never was, and her love, her passion for her girl invalid because of a trick of biological bits.

How could she tell her parents that they were actually quite rudely demanding sometimes, when they'd never see that? How could she make them understand that she didn't want a blessing, didn't want acceptance, but just for them to acknowlege that her girl was a large part of her life, and possibly meet her as a human being? It made her physically ill sometimes, giving her headaches, stomachaches, and pains when she had to bring her two worlds together, but she couldn't bear to lose either.

For all of their non-understanding, her parents were... her parents. They tried to help when they both didn't understand and refused to understand. It was against her nature to dismiss someone when they were honestly trying, no matter how hard they were failing.

It was her life, for good or for ill, and she was determined to make it work, no matter how much it hurt her, no matter how much pain she had. If she was wrong, she was wrong, but at the end of the day, her heart told her that loving people and supporting them, and loving someone more than life itself couldn't really be wrong. It was against everything, especially the Christian mythology.

Such is life, such is the tale. Did she live happily ever after? Of course not. That's only in faery tales. She didn't know where she would be in a year or two, and in her heart of hearts was fairly certain that she'd lose everyone again, but she was determined in a backwards way to still be around to see it.

At the end of the day, she was too scared to die, too scared that she was actually wrong. That was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

4/3/09 11:23 pm - W is for Wild

Peter doesn't need any. He's high on life. All of the swirling lights, Jason there with him, dancing, moving, and then that one moment, the kiss, where they could throw everything to the wind and actually express what he's felt for so long. That's wild. That's free.

Jason is dancing, losing himself in the drugs, in the sensations. He wants air, he wants to kiss Peter outside, where there aren't too many prying eyes. He's not ready for the exposure, but he can't hold himself back.

Ivy is falling out. Too many drugs, too much alcohol. There's not much that she remembers, just the one enchanted night of swirling lights. She'll pay for it later.

Matt is worried about Ivy, taking care of her, making sure that when she does lose it, it'll all be alright.

Lucas is sober, or as sober as he ever is. Watching people is all of the high he needs.

Nadia is spending a quiet night at home. It's not the rave itself, it's the company. If she has to spend one more moment with that roommate of hers than she absolutely has to, she just might lose it and go insane.

We can't live in a rave

4/3/09 10:41 pm - V is for Vampire

"Roger, what in the hell are you watching?" Mark walked into the Loft to the sound of battle on the TV. He didn't think they could pick up TV, but Roger's inginuety went pretty far most days.

"It's a new show. Hot chick and a couple more hot chicks, and a couple guys battling vampires in California" Roger grinned from where he was lounging on the couch.

"Let me guess. Eye candy." Mark sighed, and put his camera equipment down, walking over to Roger. On the screen was a thin blonde woman with a wooden stake in her hand. "Wow. That's not bad eye candy there."

"Exactly!" Roger smirked, crossing his ankles.

"If it made mister sobersides here smile, it must be a good show."

Roger lobbed a pillow at Mark's head. "Oh, shut up, Cohen."

"I don't think I will."

"I don't have to leave the Loft to tell the entire block about your newest documentary...."

"Hey! It's a huge problem! Don't make fun of it."

"If you say so, Cohen."

"I do, Roger. Now just go back to your eye candy."

"mmmmm. kickass girls with stakes."

4/3/09 10:23 pm - R is for Rain

My dear John,

April showers are certainly in full swing here in Braintree. It's refreshing to see the rain after the dry spell we had. I was afraid that the crops would not get the water they needed, but this storm will certainly keep them growing for a while.

Little Abby has taken it upon herself to run out in the rain, squealing with Tom. I am sorely afraid they will catch cold, but they are having too much fun for me to interfear. I must confess, my dear, that I long to run out there with them, letting the rain flow down my face, soaking my down and shift.

I realize, though, that I have left my childhood so far behind that it would be unbecoming of me as a woman. It reminds me, of you, of your days held in the gaol of Congress, your spirit dampened by the combined power of personality around you. I know, however, that like the sun that just broke through our clouds, your spirit will not be broken, but rise above its challenges.

I miss you, my love, and long for the day to come where you will come home to me and hold me in your arms.

I am, as I ever was and ever shall be, your dearest friend,
Abigail

4/2/09 02:10 pm - D is for Dresses

Anne was just hiding from all of the wedding preparations, curled up in a corner of the library with a history book and a cup of tea. Every time the door opened, she would retreat into the corner, hiding from everyone sent to find her.

She definitely wasn't expecting a little blonde whirlwind of tears to appear in her lap, knocking over the tea and bending the cover of her book. "Grace! What happened?"

Grace sniffled, curling up in Anne's lap. "Mother says that I'm not pretty enough."

Her eyes darkening, Anne wrapped her arms around the little girl. "Of course you are, Gracie. Why's she saying this?"

"Because, we're looking for dresses for the wedding, and she keeps saying that I'm not pretty enough for this or that, or I should do this or that to make me more pretty, and and and...." She burst into even more tears, soaking the shoulder of Anne's tunic.

Sighing, Anne shook her head. Somewhere in her heart, she was certain that what Grace's mom actually said wasn't as bad as what Grace heard, but it still wasn't forgivable to tell one's beautiful seven-year-old that they're not good enough. "I think you're beautiful, Grace. And I love you."

"I wish you could be my mama." She wiped her nose on Anne's sleeve and looked up. "You actually care about me."

A tiny moment went by before Anne grinned. "Well, why can't I be? It'll have to be our secret, but I think we could pull it off."

It only took a even smaller moment before the sunlight went back into Grace's face. "Oh! That would be wonderful, mama Anne!" She hugged the knight even tighter. "And I promise, I'll keep our secret."

"If it comes up, you can tell your Daddy, but..."

Grace cut her off. "He won't care. He doesn't like Mother any better than we do."

"Exactly." Anne picked up the book and eyed the spilled tea before standing. "Come on, Gracie, we need to go find you a dress for my wedding. I'm not getting married without you there."

"Alright, Mama."

4/2/09 02:01 pm - Q is for Queasy

He'd never understood it, and frankly, he never would. Voiding one's stomach on the floor after drinking one's self silly simply seemed counterproductive.

He'd talked to Arthur about it once as they went to bed. Arthur had tried to explain something about escapism and compulsions, but it didn't exactly make sense.

So, when Anne came in with some new adventuring friends, and ordered up drinks for everyone, he took a deep breath. "My lady, I..."

"Valspar, we've just defeated... what was it? Seventeen monsters, a very pissy dragon, and two guys from Andalucia who wanted to rob us. We're thirsty." Anne seemed in very high spirits as she passed out the cider that Arthur was pouring.

Sighing, Valspar went back to the soon-to-be seafoam green bedroom. Cleaning up people's sick always made him feel rather sick to his own stomach. That's what stable boys are for, he thought. Well, all the stable boys who aren't engaged to the princess.

3/29/09 03:39 pm - I is for Incest

Title: I is for Incest
Characters: Luigi/Amber
Rating: R for incest and... a biy of racy situation.

My brother and sister should fuck!

Pavi, shut the fuck up.


What Pavi and father wouldn't know wouldn't hurt them, right? Luigi kept holding on to that thought. It fueled his rage many days, the knowledge of what he'd done.

It was a night a couple years ago, Father had thrown a party for a new division of Geneco, and everyone was there. Amber was... herself. However, there was something in the air, or perhaps in the whiskey that actually brought them to the same corner. She didn't usually sleep around, he was fairly certain, but he'd been surprised before.

A drunk man walked up and interrupted their conversation, hitting on Amber heavily. Instinctively, Luigi pulled out a dagger and took care of the situation.

"Thank you, darling." Amber simpered and ran a finger down Luigi's chest. "However can I show my appreciation?"

It just happened. They went off to her room, and fucked. Long, hard, and more times than Luigi ever had in a night.

Above all, though, as he thought back, it was damn fucking good.

I will find a hole and fuck it.

3/28/09 04:39 pm - U is for Ultimatum

Title: U is for Ultimatum
Fandom: Rent
Characters: Benny
Rating: A for Asshole.

There is one way you won't have to pay.

Not in his wildest dreams did Benny ever think that the guys would do anything but come through. So when he told them to stop Maureen's protest or they were out, he never believed that it would be any different.

It just got out of hand. His father-in-law insisted that he call the cops, which wasn't his idea in the slightest, and then the riot happened, but Mark and Roger and everyone were gone. Mr. Gray drug him to the Building and made him padlock the door.

A week later, as he was wandering up the stairs, over the wreckage of the door, he knew that the friendship was over. It wasn't something he wanted, but it was the way it had to be. It was the choice they made, it was their way of doing things. Or at least that's what he'll keep telling himself.

3/28/09 04:06 pm - L is for Loyalty.

Title: L is for Loyalty
Fandom: outside_inn
Characters: Mark Cohen/Sara Sidle
Rating: G
Comments: This is what came into my head. It's actually a crossover with a musical called Last Five Years, but even if you don't know the musical, it makes sense. Jamie's a boy Mark grew up with.

"How do you do it, man?" Jamie sat back in his seat and pushed the remains of lunch away. "You don't even look at anyone else now that you're married. I mean, come on. You're one of the most famous film directors in America, I'm sure you have all kinds of girls hanging all over you."

Mark cut Jamie off before he could go on. "I love her. It's something more powerful than anything that I can describe."

"Well, I love Cathy too..."

"It's more than that, Jamie. You love yourself more than you love Cathy. When I make a promise, I keep it. Sara is my love and my wife, and no matter what, I'm going to stick with her."

"Never thoguht I'd hear you say that." Jamie smiles, a bit forlornly.

Mark, however, was lost in thought, smiling to himself as he thought of his wife. No matter what. He firmly believed that and always would.
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