We complain. We complain a hell of a lot. I complain. You complain. We all complain. What do I complain about? Mostly trivial things; not enough sleep, no coffee, over ate and now my stomach hurts, and it goes on and on. All of these things to complain about, complaints. that get filed directly into a giant pit of “First World Problems.” The shit we complain about is so minuscule when it comes to the problems humanity is facing on a daily basis. As I sit and complain about the wireless internet not loading my episodes of “Family Guy” fast enough, there is another person in the world cowering in fear in front of some sort of danger. Circumstance changes everything. I know that everyone has problems, and all problems are valid. We all walk this earth from our own point of view, and because of that we are the center of our own little universe. We often forget what is happening outside our lives. If we experience joy, there are others experiencing sorrow. While we experience sorrow, others are experiencing joy. As the college student walks on stage to grab his diploma, another human has never learned to read or write. We have the right to complain, because we are alive. All humans have the right to complain. We all have privileges and disadvantages. It is simply how our existence on earth functions. There however is something particularly appealing about those who realize that there is something outside of their own little worlds. They stop and take a moment to realize the plights of others, and sometimes even reach out to help. Looking at those kind of people, we can always have hope to move forward as a better human. It is comfortable to complain and to wish for better things, and I do it all the time. At the same time, it’s nice to think that one day I can hopefully be one of those people to look up to.
Stereotypes are everywhere. It is almost impossible to avoid them. We all carry them around with us, or have them pushed at us daily. I sometimes feel as if I get a healthy dose of stereotypes thrown at me more than the average american would. Being gay automatically brings up a plethora of stereotypes…that for the most part…honestly don’t reflect my reality of being gay.
Contradictory to most Gay Stereotypes:
I don’t love Ru-Paul’s Drag Race.
I don’t have the best fashion sense.
I don’t have the vocabulary of an African-American woman.
I don’t enjoy skimpy outfits.
I don’t behave like any of the gay characters on “Family Guy”
I don’t know the words to every Beyonce song.
I don’t dance well.
But what makes me “me”, as a gay man, are the things that I love. Reading, philosophical conversations, backpacking, hiking, movies, and I could go on and on. The things that represent me, are not the stereotypes of gay culture. I am simply me. The gayest thing about me is that I am in fact gay. Nothing less. Nothing more.