I figured that, since school will be starting within a month, I should clear up some old business, just to get things off my chest, and get ready to start anew. Last semester was my final semester as a member of Vincennes University's LGBT Pride club. And I feel that I need to say, even if it's just on a blog that no one reads, why I quit.
First off, the advisor of the group, for the most part, seemed to give off this feeling like he couldn't wait for me to get out of his sight, like he was barely putting up with my presence. I hate when people do that. I especially hate it when someone's supposed to lead a group of people who need acceptance more than most others. In addition, he was a language cop. Language cops piss me off to no fucking extent. If we're a group that's come together for an impassioned cause, why check out language at the door? I was almost pushed to the point where I screamed a Carlin classic: "Rat-shit, bat-shit, dirty old twat! 69 assholes tied in a knot! Hooray! Lizard-shit! FUCK!"
Second, this was supposed to be a group that raised awareness of issues and protest when necessary. All that happened was drama. Everyone sniped at everyone else because, most of them being young, none of them could keep their hormones in check. Someone was bound to get upset because someone else couldn't stay in a relationship long enough, or whatever else. No one could have a heartfelt conversation unless it pertained to the drama. I'd say something that came from the heart, and people would look at me as if I spoke Klingon.
Third, most of the people pissed me off. Half the time I had the urge to stand up and scream "Fuck y'all bitches!" To quote Katt Williams "I am allergic to stupid shit." The men (boys, more like) were cute, but the problem was that they knew they were cute. They acted like they were Queen Shit of Fuck Mountain, and that they were God's gift to all gay/bisexual men. I hate people like that. Vain and good-looking. The make me want to re-arrange their faces just to knock them down a peg or two. And most of the lesbians looked at me as if I grew another head that was spouting the most infernal profanities. I mean, they looked like they wanted to set me on fire. My fellow bisexuals could have taken or left me. Some acted like they were afraid of me, though. If Generation Y brats like this are the future of the LGBT movement, then the movement's not going anywhere.
