It seems to be that every time my life starts to get back on track something comes along and derails me. I don’t think I’m asking for too much when I say I just want it all to fit into place without having one more thing to worry about. I never really felt a 19 year old should go through this much stress. I mean, college problems, family problems, relationship problems, and on top of it all this is the time in which I am supposed to figure out who I am. Do I go Greek or drop the ‘r’ and be the target of Alpha Lambda Omega or whatever order that comes along? How do I focus on my classes and strive to be the student my parents want me to be? Do I even want to be spending my last year as a teen in school that seems to have nothing left to offer me? Then I have to figure out how to balance being financially stable on top of it all. It feels to be a never ending battle that I am in the middle of.
I guess I should explain in more detail. First off I’m Christopher Tobias, the 19 year old who feels his life is in shambles. I go to a small town college in a small town in Texas. (Yeah, I know it doesn’t sound too difficult yet, just wait it gets better). I live in one of the many dormitories on the campus and I feel that I happen to be stuck in the one with the biggest group of stupid, messy, brain dead students... the Jocks. I have a fear of walking in our hallways due to projectile objects such as the neighbor’s jock strap, condoms filled with shaving cream, and other disturbing matter. I am taking four classes; American History 101, Lit 101, Bio 101 and…shit what was my fourth class…no matter. I know I am enrolled in four classes, I just don’t happen to know all of them. The school singled me, of all the students, out and gave me the classes that no one else wanted to take. Because, all of the professors were assholes who feel that whatever the student truly wants or needs is not of their concern. They also feel that homework needs to be given on a daily basis and in loads that are equal to grad students.
Fortunately, my family does not reside in this state; however, it is only a few more years before they follow in my footsteps and escape the frozen hell of the north: Canada. Neither of my parents talk to me all that often. They seem to be too busy with their lives, just as I am too busy with my life to notice that they don’t talk to me. (Notice how I do know they don’t talk to me even though I am rather busy. I still can’t figure out why the hell they can’t take two fucking seconds to dial nine numbers on the phone to say hi to their son. Or even mail a care package every now and then. I guess that would show they care too much).I mentioned relationship problems however; I don’t feel it is just to call it a problem. For it truly to be a problem, like everything else, it would have to exist. It exists about as much as that care package that has been on its way for the past three months. It isn’t that I don’t want a relationship; I just can’t seem to be faithful enough to keep one. I’m young though, I shouldn’t be nailed down to one person I should be nailing more than one person. (I’m a guy; I’m allowed to say that without being labeled a slut. Got to love American standards, equal rights, right?) It doesn’t help that the people I want to get with are usually the ones carrying guns, driving over worked on trucks, wearing camo every other day, and voting Republican. Being gay in a small town doesn’t seem to work very well. Especially, when they carry guns, big guns, usually a set on each arm. Oh, yeah they carry hunting guns as well; they just aren’t as fun to look at. Give a guy a break.
At this point I figure most people are wondering why in the Hell I moved to a small town if I was gay. To be honest, I have no fucking clue why I did anything of the sort. The only logical explanation I have come up with was a temporary stint of insanity while I was living with my parents. In all actuality though, it all revolved around me trying to find myself and what I wanted to do in life. I have now learned I do not want to live in a small town, be a redneck, or vote Republican. It has helped me realize that I am a stronger person than I ever thought I was. I put up with more name calling, random hazing, and vandalizations on my personal belongings than any other person I know here. I got a lot of flack for trying to start a Gay-Straight alliance on campus. It would have been a successful club if everyone hadn’t tore down every sign I made five minutes after I put them up. I know, I know. Go talk to the Dean or the President of the school, right? Um…I think not. When you live in a small town, most people who work at the school are small town minded. This means that nothing I could ever do would make them think having a Gay-Straight alliance on campus was worthwhile to the typical student. I could talk until some prophecy came true and all that I am going to get is a smile and a nod of their head. I would get more done by talking to the rock out side room 13 then with the Administration of the school.
All in all I seem to be surviving this oh-so-wonderful life altering experience that I will one day look back upon and laugh about (if Hell ever froze over). The only thing that ever comes to mind when I look back on all of my issues is “if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger.” In the long run I would probably find more fun in it actually killing me than it making me a better person. I don’t think any person should be going through so much trouble in their life at such an early point in their life. So, I head back into the never ending battle with my head held high and my ass open to beatings…
