To the troglodytes of Bored@Baker,
Searching my name on Bored@Baker brings up six pages of finger paintings by you cave-dwellers, almost none of which provide any kind of insight or even humor. Page after page of homophobic slurs, insults and speculation about my life are available to anyone with the internet. Thanks for that.
Sorry I'm not sorry you want to sleep with me, but you have to settle for discussing the size of my penis on an anonymous gossip web site? Sorry I'm not sorry I serve food in a restaurant while you spend your time posting how I am "servant class" for doing so: Maybe you should get a job.
I'm sorry I'm six days past my deadline and seventeen hours from an exam I can't afford to fail and I'm sorry I only have an hour to devote to writing this to you, Jabbas of the darkness.
Sticks and stones might break my cheekbones, but words never hurt anybody. Sorry I live my life in the sunlight and fail at some of it, but I am at least better than you are at parodying me: See previous sentence. Sorry I'm not sorry I am twenty-two and change my mind a dozen times and make a hundred mistakes a day. Sorry I'm not a "deity" as one of you nobodies reminded another, in a particularly intense exchange of posts about my moral fiber.
Changed my mind: I actually am sorry I don't have time to take into full consideration how sad, pathetic and also terrifying this web site is.
What's sad: The closeted and unhappy gay posters who are only making it harder for themselves to come out of the closet by perpetuating negative stereotypes. Every time you call me an STD-ridden manwhore, it's not my feelings you're hurting. It's gay men who are less secure, less sure of themselves or of their sexuality it's those people that you're hurting. It's yourself.
What's pathetic: The weird, fictional "internet memes" which posters spend so much time and energy promoting, and which aren't even funny. For example, one of the only topics more often mentioned than my goddamn name is CALZONES.
What's terrifying: When people post about where I am, what frat I'm at, with whom, when I leave or who they think I'm kissing. I remember freshmen year leaving my room and by the time I got to the library people were already posting about what I was wearing that day. But now these kind of posts are getting more frequent again and I don't know what to do about it it scares me.
Hopefully this doesn't sound like whining and you don't think I'm a complete idiot. I know my name shows up on Bored@Baker because I say exactly what I think, or what I think needs to be said and because I use this column as airspace for a lot of personal stories that involve homosexuality. And because Carly Simon wrote that song about me "You're so vain." No really. It's about me.
But just because I understand the reasons I am gossiped about doesn't mean you shouldn't feel pathetic when you do it. Just because I think we need more people telling and listening to stories about gay relationships should not make you feel okay about calling me a manwhore. And just because I use personal anecdotes to illustrate my opinions does not mean that my personal life is yours for the reporting.
College campuses are obviously not immune to America's obsession with celebrity and gossip. In fact, Facebook, the father of this democratic stardom, started on these very campuses. Social networking makes you feel like the star of your own life; it makes you feel like other people are following your life the way fans follow stars. That's why you're so addicted to it: It makes you feel famous.
Well, you're not famous. And neither am I. We are college kids, growing up, trying to pass our exam which is now only 16 hours away and none of us deserve to be trash-talked or "spotted."
Sigh. Last week one of you mused that I use this column to justify my "meaningless existence." Putting aside the irony of your having posted that anonymously on this inhuman gossip aggregator, you're actually kind of right.
Not to "justify" I couldn't possibly hope for that. But some days, my existence does feels meaningless. I can be consumed by things I can't be certain even exist: words, calories, the internet. Putting together these columns sometimes helps me to sort things out. Today it is not helping very much.
I guess I just hope that, if you don't know me, but you read what I write, or you spot me in real time, trying to make up my mind, find the right playlist, get on with my life trying to sort things out I guess I just hope that you can find a more graceful way to navigate it all than I have.
At a college this small, or on the internet, just about anybody can be a star. Being a human is the thing that's hard.
