Death of a Blog, Birth of a Nation

No, the dead blog is not mine. I’ll have you know that I have actually gotten two whole responses from readers (not the ‘s’ indicating plural!). The dead blog in question is that of The Bears Are Coming. I had been reading Andre since his last blog, and I was kinda sad to see him leave writing again so abruptly. Here’s to hoping for the future (I know it sounds pointless, but it’s the only thing I got). Also, I’ve added two new blog to my list of daily reads. Both of these bloggers commented, allowing me to find their own work. I have decided I am a fan, and as such, will be linking to them.

This weekend was fun. It was the 4th of July, and for all of those outside the US, that means fireworks and outdoor cooking to celebrate the birth of America. I went to my friend Nick’s house because he was having the “4th of July Cookout Extravagaza of Glitter and Amazingness!!!”. Yes, he really is that gay. The party was slow to start, but eventually did get going. I myself made a horrible fopah with friends that are a couple by suggesting that a mutual friend would be coming. Apparently, this mutual friend did something very heinous while this couple was broken up. So bad in fact, that I cannot be told via the convenient facebook e-mail. Apparently, it is so drama-licious I must be told in person.

I wish there were more gay guys at this party, or at least some better looking people. There was no one that I could just loose all hopes to. No one I could just drown in a sick combination of lust, jealousy, and resentment. This lack of the better people caused me to text Nick “Nick, you need better looking friends, not that Im a shallow person”. And Im not a shallow person. I was bored, and needed someone to distract me I guess. I think good looking people to me are like booze to an alcoholic. I crave it, want it, and then feel bad about myself after I get it. Clearly, this is not healthy behavior. But, what else am I to do?

To cap off the party, Nick took out the frozen Mojitos he had made. All 20 of us piled into cars and proceeded to go to the outskirts of the University’s campus, towards the agricultural farmlands, where the fields are. Here, we sat out, drinking Mojitos, waiting in the rain for the fireworks to start. It was quite nice, as the rum allowed my tongue to become unhitched, (aka, I made more sex jokes then usual). My personal favorite was when Nick was telling his boyfriend how to find us. He was, the road curves to the left. To which I responded “Just like Nick’s dick”. Yes, I am quite proud of this one.

The fireworks came despite the rain, and they looked quite nice. I was surprised that I liked them as much as I did. When I was really young, I hated fireworks, the colors of the explosions were nice, but I could never stand the loud bang of the explosions. That night, I just sat there, watching them. I was able to handle the booming, even as I felt it bounce around in my chest. I guess this is a sign that Im growing up? Hopefully, I won’t ever lose my child-like spirit. Not fully anyway.

As I sat there, looking at the skyline, hearing the explosions meant to mark the birth our country, I couldn’t help but think back. I thought back to our country’s invasion of Iraq. When all of the tv stations filmed the cities exploding as jets dropped bombs overhead. I kept trying to put myself there, maybe out of reverence for those poor citizens, maybe in hopes that I could warn my young middle school self not to be taken in by explosions cause those people never really hurt us, and these explosions are only going to make them hate us.

I love my country, I really do, but sometimes…we do some horrible things. I kept telling myself that the fireworks were about our country’s founding. We were a country made from war. The fireworks were about the rocket’s red glare and all that stuff. But, part of my kept making those fireworks about those people effected by that country we were celebrating.

In any event, the mojitos were good. The fireworks were nice. I’m actually quite glad that I went.