johnny quest!!!

activism, activism + military?

So. I guess I've been busy, or trying to be.

I joined VOX - Voices for Planned Parenthood on campus. We give away condoms, lubes, dental dams, information on sexual health and STDs and of course suggest services that Planned Parenthood offers. Its pretty fucking fantastic, considering I've been wanting to volunteer at Planned Parenthood since like 8th grade.

The president of the club is so rad. She's the sweetest person ever and so real.

I'm also a member of Love146, a group against sex trafficking. We watched a documentary on the sex exploitation industry in New York City, called Very Young Girls. It was disgusting to see these pimps and what they do and the power they wield over the heads of these young girls who desperately need love and just, a better outlook. It seems like many of them come from violent households or at least broken ones, where parents are more focused on themselves and problems than the children, so that the young girls slip out and are more than willing to adopt a father figure. Thats when some stranger rolls up in a car and offers candy, advice, money, hugs, movies, and anything else that a father figure might do for a little girl. Its a weird relationship though because when the girls get older and try to get away from prostitution, they all say how "in love" they are with their pimps, yet they call them "Daddy" and stuff. Such a weird way all that plays out in their lives, its so unfortunate. They get beaten, obviously raped many times, introduced to drugs to numb themselves, and one girl just woke up unconscious and beaten in an abandoned vehicle that was all stripped with no seats or anything, in the middle of nowhere. Its ridiculous what people will do to others, especially even of young naive girls. Some of the footage in the film was shot by pimps themselves, with their own home camcorder, thinking that eventually they could sell their tapes or whatever to be on a cable tv series or documentary or something, probably about how life ain't easy for a pimp. At the end of the film it says the footage was used in the court case against them and they were both sentenced to 10 years in the federal prison. Should've been longer, for all the things it showed them doing to these girls.

I'm glad I live in San Diego. I really do like it here, I like being alone, I like having my own life without anything from before. Here I can be what I want and do what I want and the best thing is, that IS what I'm doing. I'm going to school to become what I want to be, a Marine. Well technically I already am, but an officer. Thats all well and good. On top of that I'm being more and more active in social issues. I'm weary to see how these two will play out when I am finally commissioned. Can I be a socially aware officer in the Marine Corps? Well of course I can, but that would be assuming that I'd be on the red side of most debates.

No. How can I sanction being part of the institution that suppresses so many people in so many ways? Well I already have been building an answer to that, but its personal. I guess it is kind of a cop-out to just say "I'm not the one doing it" however. Maybe I can rise in ranks enough to change some policies, make male Marines more aware of female Marines and equalize the situations. That'll be messy to deal with, considering I can already hear the cries from male Marines about how female Marines should be able to do 20 pull ups as well, or run 3 miles in 18 minutes. That is difficult physical stuff, I don't know yet how I would handle that.
But outside of the workplace, could I march against Prop 8? Well technically of course I can, I can exercise my right as a citizen because joining the military doesn't take away any rights. Unless you're gay, then freedom of speech is prohibited. Everything is so weird, and has two sides. I'm reluctant to get involved in conversations among military people about social issues, and conversations about the military among socially-aware people. I know about intersections of race and sexuality, gender, class, and whatnot, but how about intersections of gender, race, opinion, and military? I surely can't be the only one who stands at those cross-roads.

I don't want to make the military look bad, but then again I also don't want to repress what I think. I'm just afraid that one day I'll be protesting something I feel strongly about and on the other side will be other Marines, protesting the opposite, who suddenly are aware that they're protesting me, an officer, maybe their officer, and then what? That would cause unnecessary bias, stress, and who-knows in the workplace. I don't dig that.

I guess I'll just be mentioning this with my MOI in a couple weeks, get his perspective. He seems like a cool aware guy; I mean, he surfs, so he's gotta be down to at least discuss this with me. Whereas the old MOI probably would have told me to shut my mouth forever and never speak about it again, and try not to even think about it because its on the level of being a traitor. I hated that guy with a fucking passion.
johnny quest!!!

The land of Fuck

Livid, immaculate, ridiculous, facetious, impeccable, repose. There are more but I can't remember; words that were used this weekend that were out of the ordinary.
It was one of those weekends. I used to have more of them when my friends were a more eclectic group and I was always meeting new people. The apartment was like an important intersection on the freeway of people's lives leading to their self-destruction. All of them were about self-destruction but me, it makes sense. They were interesting and the times really felt like 'we are all alone here and we are dead.'
Henry Miller describes a place he calls the land of Fuck. I think I found it and it is this guy King Carpenter's house. Who the fuck calls themself that? What kinda weirdo thinks he's the spawn of some political head via sperm donor? Thirty-seven odd years old and swears he wreaks havoc on other countries through internet heckling. His house is amazing. Its the degeneration of an artist who never existed, never produced art. He called me an artist, thats why I'm so brilliant. He said I'm gorgeous and his little sister, but then he would be tempted to commit incest. All of this with a happy, almost innocent demeaner. King Carpenter, like Jesus. We wrote on his walls, we drew on them and some girl's boobs. Her name was Hooters because such. She wasn't a person, she was a doll of the blow up variety. None of this is thought back on with disgust though, its just telling it like it is. I wasn't disgusted, just observant and slightly interested as to why. In the land of Fuck everybody's bodies were produced by sperm donors and surrogate mothers. Everybody is a disembodied artistic soul with no substance, no limbs to hold a pen to paper or brush to canvas or tool to structure things. Not enough substance to even hold a real conversation. The conversations were articles and conjunctions and many prepositions peppered with interjections. The words floated on the smoke of the cigarettes lit, fading away just as well. No substance.
The land of Fuck. Hooters and that guy, thats what they were there for. Nobody cared in a negative sort of way or voyeuristic way. It was just the way that it was and who cares? Every hour you could be someone else and be forgiven for prior traits or fault of personality. You could progress, in whatever way you think that means, or degenerate into what you might have thought was disgusting 3 hours beforehand. All the while Sam the Sham preached on like he was Jesus about politics and his importance and the hits put on his head in the middle east. We humored him like a child, what else could we do. This was a child's playground with a man's intentions, in a man's body; the land of Fuck.
Every so often I was somebody new. I lived through every female archetype I could think of and was glad to. We talked and debated and argued a bit and were complimented and complimented and smoked and hugged and wrote on walls and joked and watched and pointed and exclaimed. I could present something from angles that weren't even on the same plane. The whole weekend, actually, was just a bunch of toys and nic-nacs and garbage and old plastic things and unwanted hair-ties and lonesome socks and empty flasks and broken guitars that were fixable, all together. Hanging together on a wire like clothes on the line between buildings that you see in old photos, or in big cities I guess. The whole weekend, laid out on the line like that. Dirty laundry.
The string that connected everything was exhaustion.
johnny quest!!!

men raised by women

I hate how some people repeat this just to justify their beliefs or sexism or something. Well whatever, I heard/read this and it pissed me off and I posted it on my blogger but I just feel like posting it again.

"We are a generation of men raised by women. Do you think the answer is another woman?"
 
Really? What's so bad about being raised by women? Whoever wasn't raised by a woman is some unlucky soul who probably substituted stand-in mothers. Women controlling whats on TV, women making groups against drunk drivers, women against this and that. Yeah well, more often than not its not just women in these groups. It was just started by them or they were the most proactive ones in it. Men raised by women, men I know who have a strong affinity for their mothers and their mother's values are basically how all the men I dated were. (Note: 'men' does not include a certain boy while I was in high school.) All of them were capable of being compassionate and sympathetic and more importantly, empathetic. They all had their dog day and feverish tempers in arguments, resorting to taking it out on the wall/door/whatever, but ultimately they could understand the other side, even if they still disagreed. At least they understood. 
My father was raised by a woman, as were many of the men in our family because it seems that we were another one of those unlucky Mexican families where the male figure tended to walk out and abandon. Luckily it did not happen to me and this is no longer a sporadic disease in my family that springs up because those men raised by women made it a point to be a man more upstanding than their fathers, who I'm guessing were of the previous generations where men were "raised by men." They vowed to be different and be better and any of my cousins will be happy to admit that they are glad their fathers are who they are, that they are there for them and changing as men as the world changes its attitudes towards open-mindedness and freedom making your own choices. Those men raised by men are men we don't know and don't welcome into our family, the short of it is that they are bastards. Those women raising these men, they are the double-hard workers for half as much credit, and those who complain about the generation raised by women still make their work only harder for those women. Those women had to be both men and woman but still secure in their femininity. They had to be confident to teach men confidence, and thankfully daughters caught along too. Nobody in my family walks or talks without confidence and the actions to back it up. They have the confidence to succeed at school, develop their own ideas, question the status quo, excel in sports and normal kid things, to do things that might make them vulnerable to our own family's critical eyes, the confidence to cry and admit that we are all human and we make mistakes and have emotion which leads to the ultimate confidence of being a real person, not some machismo robot of what is thought to be what a man is. That is what being raised by women does.
 
I only get attached to men raised by women, and men raised by both men and women. Forgive me for assuming but men raised by men always seem to be undependable and shady in their motives.
 
In regards to "is the answer another woman?" pertaining to, I'm guessing, Sarah Palin (or even Hillary Clinton), what does gender have to do with it AT ALL? Because we all know how having a penis automatically means that you ARE the answer (George Bush, Hitler, etc).
johnny quest!!!

nothing gold can stay

Have you stopped drinking that ambrosia?

Your essence is losing its gleam and I can finally see your toes touching the ground.

Your slit-throat ear to ear smile can hardly work charms now.
johnny quest!!!

love 4 hire

i'm going to start my own business sometime, not sure if i'll be in or out of the marine corps

because we went to balboa park on sunday, which is a really nice place with lots of interesting museums and stuff, and tons of kids. because for all of our loathsome dislike of children, josh and i settled to lay on a blanket by the playground.
with all their happy joyous laughter of innocent youth, i began to wish so badly that i had a..


dog. any kinda dog, especially lowrider kinds of dogs though. i love them. and josh and i could have a dog. but we can't realistically.

so i decided that i'm going to rent dogs. its like how kids volunteer at the pet shelter just to play with puppies and give the animals love. except dogs can only stay in the park, for a few hours, blahblah, then can be returned with a full tank. and perhaps you can even adopt the dog if you love it so much and can do so, its like taking a car for a test drive. on the one hand its the most awesome idea i've ever had, because if this service were available, i'd go bankrupt on weekends just to love a dog for a day. on the other hand isn't it a bit ... weird? its like i'm a dog pimp. i don't know. i just wish i could have a dog for a little while.
johnny quest!!!

the field mouse is fast, but the owl sees at night

so whoa, livejournal. i remember old shit. those old photos of josh, haha. what a dink.

spring break. thats pretty weird. 12 years of spring break once a year and then it coming around and being unaware. what was i doing spring break last year? working. well, learning my MOS. shit by now i must have been in RFC with ssgt kirby and gunny...whatshisname. he was awesome. they both were. that was the class i got in trouble with mikey for going off base on a weeknight haha. the phrase spring break never even punctured my skull.

and now i have spring break again. it feels like a waste of time. it feels like i'm being babied. "oh poor you, ten weeks of school, you definitely need a week off even though you had off every weekend." i miss being enlisted. spring break, whats that?

im reading the tropic of cancer by henry miller. i feel like i know the guy. if i were a guy i'd want to be him. i can see how that happens. its painful but hedonistic. i don't know. its desirable. but i just have a high sex drive i guess. and i think a lot about the past. it works.

i don't like california.
johnny quest!!!

intending to burn

very often do i have dreams that i fuck shit up. last night all i had to do was drive onto fort bliss and take my cousin, no, this girl who lives across the hall to do whatever but for some reason i couldn't do it. and it wasn't embarrassing like "holy shit micki can't drive" it was like "why do i keep fucking up?" like in a bad video game i kept hitting shit driving and people and found myself trying to drive on base backwards? it sounds ridiculous but at the time it was frustrating. i can't ever do anything right when i sleep.

but i make no connection between that and real life because the fact is i DON'T fuck everything up, even if i always feel i could have done better.

they're just horrible dreams that probably drive me to paranoia of ever really fucking anything up ever.

sometimes you have to fuck up. but i know what i'm saying and i'm trying to convince myself that i won't fuck this up, because i won't. so hush yo mouf.

in other news...josh is awesome. but when was that ever news.
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i'm severely depressed. i want to go back to california and tell john and raul that i'm only interested in seeing books right now. 1984, the bell jar, the voyage out, amerika, pride and prejudice, the great gatsby, lord of the flies, etc. those are my boyfriends.
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johnny quest!!!

hoorah motivator.

lol wtf.

i hate that being a junior marine means that you're the one everybody gets to pick on unashamedly. those jerks like to play jokes on me with the phone and now when i answer i don't know who to trust!!!

urrrrrgghhh. fucken marines.
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