Author's Note: Writing this essay was difficult. It's about a journal I kept when I was 11-12. If you want to see it, let me know. I wrote the worst things that could come to my mind about anyone who would make me feel miserable. The essay focuses on my recollections as I conversed with myself at 12, and then my mom finding it. Confrontation followed, but it was a poignant moment where I know that there was something different about me. (This was around the same time where I confirmed in my mind that me being different had to do with me being gay.)
But even moreso, the essay is about growing up with no strong foundation. Sure, you have a roof over your head, you're fed well, and you have a family that is together. Thank God for that. But, it almost felt like being a plant growing in the middle of a rockbed, if you can get what I'm saying.
If anyone has the chance to, look back to the things that you wrote when you were a kid. What you find can really be mindblowing. Comments, Questions, and Thoughts are always welcome.
Kwame
I found it a month ago in an untouched drawer in my father’s closet. How did it get there? It was exactly the same as I had last seen it. Six years ago, I had written the last entry. Memories began to flood my mind. The years in between seemed to dissolve.
The spine was destroyed, the pages torn, the cover almost unreadable. There was the faint outline of a red convertible, a darkened mountain in the background. The word journal, barely legible, was printed on the top. This diary, in the hands of the child who kept it was the author’s repository of all he thought, all he felt, all he believed to be true. It was his confidant, his nonjudgmental friend. It was salvation.
The child author used this journal to express whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without fear of being scolded, berated or reproved. Sections were scribbled, forced in a flurry. The writer’s entries expressed volumes of anguish, frustration and sadness. There were no restrictions on what he could say. He was the sole reader. The journal would never be found. The writer had found his safe haven, his emotional and psychological retreat.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember that child. He was eleven years old or maybe younger. He had two loving parents, a brother and sister. Surrounded by hearth and home, comforted in the knowledge he was loved, the child should have been happy. Was he in fact happy? No, I remember. The child was not happy at all. He was being derided for being different. He could not identify with his friends, their dreams of becoming famous athletes, macho music artists, heartthrobs. At home it was no better. He was miserable.
The writer was melodramatic, a child who took refuge in his journal, his best and most reliable companion. This was where his voice could sing loud and clear, unafraid of being heard, being judged by anyone.
Turning the pages, I recalled the night my mother discovered my most sacred secret possession. She found my journal.
We had just had an argument about chores. I stalked out of the room, I would use my journal to vent my frustration, my anger. Unbeknownst to me, she followed me. She saw me feverishly penning words of venom. She grabbed it. She began to read every word, every curse, every insult I had held inside about her, my family, my friends, I was exposed.
She looked up in painful surprise, “Why did you not tell me how angry you feel?”
You never listened was my immediate response. Oddly enough, I suddenly felt liberated. I had been discovered. That was true. Uncovered, I was suddenly discovered. My journal was no longer my only save haven. I could, I realized, tell the world who I was.
The words of a lonely, troubled child released the spirit of a strong, independent young man. That child is no more.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
On the Differences Found Amongst Men
The following is a speech that I gave today at the Break the Silence Conference. The subject was the Acceptance and Toleration of LGBT Youth in society. But as I wrote my thoughts down, I realized that the mere recognition of differences, the traits that make us stand out as individuals, should be addressed. I knew that I could speak through the lens of someone gay to talk about people who are different. The result is a guide that could be incorporated into your own ideology. Thoughts? Comments?
Ladies and Gentlemen, I stand before you a man of many attributes. Some that are heralded and lauded amongst adversaries and supporters alike, some that are locked away, never to be discussed. Yet in my eyes, I see every part of me equal and whole, worthy of the same amount of admonition and praise.
Every part of every individual should never be forced to live it’s life as a shadow. As an individual who has witnessed the beauty of unlocking such parts one by one, it can be said that these parts locked furthest within are the most beautiful and unique. It can also be said that these parts are worthy of basking in the sunlight of recognition, acceptance, and tolerance.
So, my fellow minds, to the benefit of our social health, do not turn these parts away. For you may never know what you destroy by casting someone’s true self into outcast. The Classmate that never speaks, the friend that melts to the niche of conformity, even your dearest and truest friend may harbor fears of letting go the part of themselves that truly and wholly represents who they are.
Though I do not ask that you push your peers into the spotlight premature and unsure, no, I do ask that you appreciate and understand the differences that bring us together. And though I cannot say that I, nor my fellow [peers], have completely followed this message, we can say that we’ve taken strides to not close ourselves to new people, to new experiences, and to new interpretations of life.
Ladies and Gentlemen, you must realize that the second you choose to build bridges over burning them, you begin to form your own personality from a pastiche of others. So many times, I see people foolishly pushing people away from them, believing that with each “blemish” they remove, they come one step closer to becoming someone accepted and lauded by all. To that, I ask, what becomes of you? The more you work to distance yourself from difference, the easier it becomes to forget your identity.
Similarly, people foolishly compartmentalize their lives, in fear that some part of them is too ugly, too misunderstood to be celebrated by their peers. To that, I ask, what becomes of your peers? The more you keep yourself from your friends, the more they miss out on how awesome of a person you are.
To the benefit of our social health and to the ability to discuss our differences freely, take the practices I discussed, ladies and gentlemen, and get rid of them. You’ll see that when you do, you bring levity to yourself, and to those around you. Two simple changes can make the greatest difference.
Though we can enumerate many differences, I know of only one commonality: Our Differences bring us together. Each unique. Each accepted. And Each recognized equally.
Thank You.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I stand before you a man of many attributes. Some that are heralded and lauded amongst adversaries and supporters alike, some that are locked away, never to be discussed. Yet in my eyes, I see every part of me equal and whole, worthy of the same amount of admonition and praise.
Every part of every individual should never be forced to live it’s life as a shadow. As an individual who has witnessed the beauty of unlocking such parts one by one, it can be said that these parts locked furthest within are the most beautiful and unique. It can also be said that these parts are worthy of basking in the sunlight of recognition, acceptance, and tolerance.
So, my fellow minds, to the benefit of our social health, do not turn these parts away. For you may never know what you destroy by casting someone’s true self into outcast. The Classmate that never speaks, the friend that melts to the niche of conformity, even your dearest and truest friend may harbor fears of letting go the part of themselves that truly and wholly represents who they are.
Though I do not ask that you push your peers into the spotlight premature and unsure, no, I do ask that you appreciate and understand the differences that bring us together. And though I cannot say that I, nor my fellow [peers], have completely followed this message, we can say that we’ve taken strides to not close ourselves to new people, to new experiences, and to new interpretations of life.
Ladies and Gentlemen, you must realize that the second you choose to build bridges over burning them, you begin to form your own personality from a pastiche of others. So many times, I see people foolishly pushing people away from them, believing that with each “blemish” they remove, they come one step closer to becoming someone accepted and lauded by all. To that, I ask, what becomes of you? The more you work to distance yourself from difference, the easier it becomes to forget your identity.
Similarly, people foolishly compartmentalize their lives, in fear that some part of them is too ugly, too misunderstood to be celebrated by their peers. To that, I ask, what becomes of your peers? The more you keep yourself from your friends, the more they miss out on how awesome of a person you are.
To the benefit of our social health and to the ability to discuss our differences freely, take the practices I discussed, ladies and gentlemen, and get rid of them. You’ll see that when you do, you bring levity to yourself, and to those around you. Two simple changes can make the greatest difference.
Though we can enumerate many differences, I know of only one commonality: Our Differences bring us together. Each unique. Each accepted. And Each recognized equally.
Thank You.
My College Rejection Letter
March 26, 2010
Dear Admissions Office:
It was the saddest thing I ever did.
The constant checking of the Common Application Online (And I mean constant.). The retooling of my essays dozens, maybe hundreds of times. The incessant chatter about the SAT. For the last year of my life, I have taken part in the most stressful part of being a Senior: Applying to your school.
Applying to College in Brooklyn Tech was never a cake walk. See, I’m one of about one thousand two hundred people: fighting for spots in a cold, cut-throat, and at times torturous environment where everyone had their eye on everyone else, and everyone underwent scrutiny from all corners of our globe.
I, myself, had two conflicts with my best friends about you. (Yes, applying to you guys can kill relationships like no other… But that’s behind us now.) Not only that, but at times, I would battle up to 100 other people about your school, and whether I was a worthy enough to gain acceptance.
But, you guys were worth the sweat (supplements), tears (envelopes), and blood (paper cuts). If I didn’t see myself wearing your sweatshirt sitting in the front row of your Biology 100 class in the fall, my application would not have reached your doors. What was awesome, though, was that you thought the same of me, and I couldn’t be more humbled and grateful; I really had my doubts that you’d like me at all, but I guess we hit it off quite nicely.
But sadly, there was one place; the one that really caught my heart and my mind (Look at me, I sound like a Lady GaGa lyric). This place is relatively new, not really a household name, yet it has all of the same characteristics and qualities that I found in your school. I like this balance: not having the name of a school weigh you down or precede you, yet forming your own identity and personality in an academically provocative environment.
Come Fall 2010, I will be a matriculating freshman at the Macaulay Honors College at Hunter College, a wonderful institution that the City University of New York created based on the indelible mark your school has left on the face of the College World. I hope to meet some of the brightest, wittiest, and practical minds that this institution has to offer (—the leftovers, I mean. You do take them all…)
Once again, it was my greatest pleasure to fight for you, but like a horse bridled, or butterfly dawning from its cocoon, I must let you go.
This is the saddest thing I’ll ever do. But who is to say that we won’t cross paths again? Chances are, I have a friend coming to your school in the fall. We’ll keep in touch. I’d like that.
Yours in Solidarity,
Kwame Ocran
P.S. I’d like to keep the letter you sent me as a memento of our tempestuous, passionate yet brief romance. It would mean the world to me. Thanks!
Dear Admissions Office:
It was the saddest thing I ever did.
The constant checking of the Common Application Online (And I mean constant.). The retooling of my essays dozens, maybe hundreds of times. The incessant chatter about the SAT. For the last year of my life, I have taken part in the most stressful part of being a Senior: Applying to your school.
Applying to College in Brooklyn Tech was never a cake walk. See, I’m one of about one thousand two hundred people: fighting for spots in a cold, cut-throat, and at times torturous environment where everyone had their eye on everyone else, and everyone underwent scrutiny from all corners of our globe.
I, myself, had two conflicts with my best friends about you. (Yes, applying to you guys can kill relationships like no other… But that’s behind us now.) Not only that, but at times, I would battle up to 100 other people about your school, and whether I was a worthy enough to gain acceptance.
But, you guys were worth the sweat (supplements), tears (envelopes), and blood (paper cuts). If I didn’t see myself wearing your sweatshirt sitting in the front row of your Biology 100 class in the fall, my application would not have reached your doors. What was awesome, though, was that you thought the same of me, and I couldn’t be more humbled and grateful; I really had my doubts that you’d like me at all, but I guess we hit it off quite nicely.
But sadly, there was one place; the one that really caught my heart and my mind (Look at me, I sound like a Lady GaGa lyric). This place is relatively new, not really a household name, yet it has all of the same characteristics and qualities that I found in your school. I like this balance: not having the name of a school weigh you down or precede you, yet forming your own identity and personality in an academically provocative environment.
Come Fall 2010, I will be a matriculating freshman at the Macaulay Honors College at Hunter College, a wonderful institution that the City University of New York created based on the indelible mark your school has left on the face of the College World. I hope to meet some of the brightest, wittiest, and practical minds that this institution has to offer (—the leftovers, I mean. You do take them all…)
Once again, it was my greatest pleasure to fight for you, but like a horse bridled, or butterfly dawning from its cocoon, I must let you go.
This is the saddest thing I’ll ever do. But who is to say that we won’t cross paths again? Chances are, I have a friend coming to your school in the fall. We’ll keep in touch. I’d like that.
Yours in Solidarity,
Kwame Ocran
P.S. I’d like to keep the letter you sent me as a memento of our tempestuous, passionate yet brief romance. It would mean the world to me. Thanks!
My College Application Philosophy (It Helps.)
Rebellion, Fear, Insecurity. These reasons pounded against my philosophy on the College Application Process. Thankfully, now that I’ve reached the end, it hasn’t wavered.
Though you may think that I’m high on a fix of elitism, I’m happy to say that I eat my humble pie in earnest. Then again, all this College talk can be hard to hear this coming from someone who goes to Brooklyn Tech and meets the mayor on New Years Eve, even a bit unpleasant; but, know that I feel strongly about the worth of all schools I applied to, not just those in the highly coveted Ivy League.
First, I want to define and remind you what the Ivy League actually is. According to Wikipedia (Everyone’s Favorite and Most Reputable Source), The Ivy League is an athletic conference comprising eight private institutions of higher education in the Northeastern United States. The term is most commonly used to refer to those eight schools considered as a group. The term also has connotations of academic excellence, selectivity in admissions, and social elitism.
That’s it. It’s an athletic league. These schools are grouped together so they can have games against evenly matched teams. However, notice the last two words: social elitism. From the 1700s onwards (Thank You Jermaine Heath.), the term has become revered, valued, and in my opinion, haughty. My problem with social elitism has only intensified after hearing some of my peers’ reasoning behind applying to schools many thought were the best and only schools for them.
Now, I’m not an Ivy Basher; I applied to three myself. What I am a basher of, however, is the misconception that going to one of these schools will ensure prosperity and a one-way ticket to the best life ever. Granted, going to one of these schools will propel you into a network of people who are well connected. You may also thank heavens whenever an interviewer asks you “Where did you study during your undergraduate career?” But there is a much bigger issue at hand: I fear that as time goes on, people may actually die to try and get in. (No pun intended, Cornell)
Simply, the name isn’t everything.
How would you look for a school? Do you ask your friends where they apply? Do you go on reputation alone? High enough SAT scores? Most Expensive? Cheapest? A combination of these things? Many applicants fall into one of these categories. Maybe you considered campus size, student-professor ratios, research oppurtunites, study abroad, programs, majors, campus life, support and special interest groups, activities. Maybe you expect to step inside in August and have everything handed to you on a Silver Platter. I love to break it to you, so I will: This isn’t high school anymore.
Some people cling to the reputation of these names because they instill a feeling of unattainability that we humans seek to adapt for a stab at distinction. (How sexy will it sound at a Cocktail Party when you tell some guy that you got your bachelor's at Princeton? Oh you're so hot!)
Can I fault you? In many ways, no. It's your prerogative. (Cue Bobby Brown Music).
Sure, have a dream, apply to a couple of safeties, but if there is some place that truly makes you happy, then by all means, go there! There are hidden gems out there in the College System. If it’s Cornell or City College, you shouldn’t care what your friends have to say about it. I didn’t.
If you’re a trigger happy individual bent on getting your joys out of people who are affected by the name on your degree rather than the impact of your character, then by all means, stay away from me, please. As for me, I’m tired of saying “Brooklyn Tech” and hearing the staccato-like reaction follow. I am not smart because I went to Tech; I’m smart because I applied my knowledge. I want College to reflect that.
I’d like to know the feeling of people not feeling uncomfortable when you tell them where you attend. Be it Macaulay or Hunter, as amazing as you are, you should be able to “wow” people on who you are over where you go.
This all brings me to this wonderful novel idea that College is only as good as you want it to be. No matter where you go, Brooklyn College or Brown University, the effort, time, and friends you make at either of the two will make things all the more sweeter.
Do Your Research!
If you’re after the Ivy League, be after it for more than just having the name. Look past superficiality for once in your life, or you may well end up in a place that you hate.
If you’re after a SUNY, don’t be discouraged by your peers who believe a Binghamton or a Geneseo are beneath them because you know very well that your SUNY is the best place for you, and that you’ll blaze a trail just the same.
If you’re after a CUNY, like I was, don’t be afraid to say that you attend one of the largest, most diverse public institutions in the nation. And remember, if all else fails, think about where you live.
What I am trying to say (over and over again) is look for the best home for you for the next four years. And once you get there, be proud of it.
Macaulay Hunter Student, Class of 2014 and proud of it. =)
Though you may think that I’m high on a fix of elitism, I’m happy to say that I eat my humble pie in earnest. Then again, all this College talk can be hard to hear this coming from someone who goes to Brooklyn Tech and meets the mayor on New Years Eve, even a bit unpleasant; but, know that I feel strongly about the worth of all schools I applied to, not just those in the highly coveted Ivy League.
First, I want to define and remind you what the Ivy League actually is. According to Wikipedia (Everyone’s Favorite and Most Reputable Source), The Ivy League is an athletic conference comprising eight private institutions of higher education in the Northeastern United States. The term is most commonly used to refer to those eight schools considered as a group. The term also has connotations of academic excellence, selectivity in admissions, and social elitism.
That’s it. It’s an athletic league. These schools are grouped together so they can have games against evenly matched teams. However, notice the last two words: social elitism. From the 1700s onwards (Thank You Jermaine Heath.), the term has become revered, valued, and in my opinion, haughty. My problem with social elitism has only intensified after hearing some of my peers’ reasoning behind applying to schools many thought were the best and only schools for them.
Now, I’m not an Ivy Basher; I applied to three myself. What I am a basher of, however, is the misconception that going to one of these schools will ensure prosperity and a one-way ticket to the best life ever. Granted, going to one of these schools will propel you into a network of people who are well connected. You may also thank heavens whenever an interviewer asks you “Where did you study during your undergraduate career?” But there is a much bigger issue at hand: I fear that as time goes on, people may actually die to try and get in. (No pun intended, Cornell)
Simply, the name isn’t everything.
How would you look for a school? Do you ask your friends where they apply? Do you go on reputation alone? High enough SAT scores? Most Expensive? Cheapest? A combination of these things? Many applicants fall into one of these categories. Maybe you considered campus size, student-professor ratios, research oppurtunites, study abroad, programs, majors, campus life, support and special interest groups, activities. Maybe you expect to step inside in August and have everything handed to you on a Silver Platter. I love to break it to you, so I will: This isn’t high school anymore.
Some people cling to the reputation of these names because they instill a feeling of unattainability that we humans seek to adapt for a stab at distinction. (How sexy will it sound at a Cocktail Party when you tell some guy that you got your bachelor's at Princeton? Oh you're so hot!)
Can I fault you? In many ways, no. It's your prerogative. (Cue Bobby Brown Music).
Sure, have a dream, apply to a couple of safeties, but if there is some place that truly makes you happy, then by all means, go there! There are hidden gems out there in the College System. If it’s Cornell or City College, you shouldn’t care what your friends have to say about it. I didn’t.
If you’re a trigger happy individual bent on getting your joys out of people who are affected by the name on your degree rather than the impact of your character, then by all means, stay away from me, please. As for me, I’m tired of saying “Brooklyn Tech” and hearing the staccato-like reaction follow. I am not smart because I went to Tech; I’m smart because I applied my knowledge. I want College to reflect that.
I’d like to know the feeling of people not feeling uncomfortable when you tell them where you attend. Be it Macaulay or Hunter, as amazing as you are, you should be able to “wow” people on who you are over where you go.
This all brings me to this wonderful novel idea that College is only as good as you want it to be. No matter where you go, Brooklyn College or Brown University, the effort, time, and friends you make at either of the two will make things all the more sweeter.
Do Your Research!
If you’re after the Ivy League, be after it for more than just having the name. Look past superficiality for once in your life, or you may well end up in a place that you hate.
If you’re after a SUNY, don’t be discouraged by your peers who believe a Binghamton or a Geneseo are beneath them because you know very well that your SUNY is the best place for you, and that you’ll blaze a trail just the same.
If you’re after a CUNY, like I was, don’t be afraid to say that you attend one of the largest, most diverse public institutions in the nation. And remember, if all else fails, think about where you live.
What I am trying to say (over and over again) is look for the best home for you for the next four years. And once you get there, be proud of it.
Macaulay Hunter Student, Class of 2014 and proud of it. =)
The End of Humanity: Also Known as Formspring
Somehow, I knew this would be trouble. And not the good kind.
Here’s my definition in a nutshell:
Formspring: a Twitter and Honesty Box mash up that incites the nastiest of comments from unidentifiable individuals over the internet. May cause intense online feuds, dishonesty, antagonization, embarrassment, tears, anger, frustration, depression, and if you aren't careful, death. Please use caution. Actually, please try not to use at all: We humans can't handle it. The Technology is far too great for our comprehension.
So here’s how it works: You ask people to ask you questions under an anonymous guise. If they’re playing you right, they’ll ask you really personal or insulting questions like: “Did you sleep with so and so in the tenth grade?” or “Why are you so ugly? Go Die,” or my favorite “Why don’t you get AIDS so you can lose weight?” (Oh, I had to chuckle at that one; that one was funny, but in a different sense).
Seems like fun right? No... well, kinda?
The truth is, no matter how tough or strong you think you are, some of these comments are almost too negative to think that this came from someone who you know.
And that’s the first problem with formspring; they know who you are, but you’re left in a dark cave with a wet match. (Yes, I got that from a SpongeBob Episode.) Metaphorically speaking, your in a fight with maybe 10-20 people at 3 AM; they're dressed in black, and you're blind. Go figure.
I wondered why this never happened with Twitter or Facebook’s Honesty Box. But think about it; they were too inconvenient. Now with this new-fangled thing, it’s like the second you answer questions about yourself, everyone can see them (Thanks to News Feed) and you’re waiting for the next question like a junkie waiting for their next fix.
This is the second problem with formspring; it shows the best and worst of humanity. Easily, you can tell that if an individual knew they wouldn’t be responsible for their words, every insult possible can appear in your formspring inbox. Sad, but true. People get creative. At the same time, however, you (the formspring owner) are able to witness sheer negative criticism at its best; you are able to control it, moderate it, and reject it. Nonetheless, all inhibition and care to caution is thrown to the wind at the expense of usually a genuinely good person just trying to be Socially Active.
But we we're not that innocent. (Oops!...I did it again...)
At the same time, I, along with other formspring "celebrities" asked for the spotlight. I mean there is an application where you click asking, begging, pleading for questions on other Social Networking sites like a two dollar prostitute standing on the corner of Flatbush and Nevins with a busted hell, fishnet stockings and a dress that don’t fit exactly right at 2 AM in the freezing cold of December. (Yet I digress.) I use the term "celebrities" for a reason. None of us have done anything worth praise (as much as your lovely questions have said), yet we ask for attention, and we get it in all forms, shapes and sizes. It's a very unhealthy habit.
Here's another problem: formspring takes trolling to a whole new level. At one point, there were just three or four people asking me similar lines of questions, many of which I knew weren't their own ideas; they were just out to annoy me. Questions ranged from asking about fruits, to horses on my bed, and one person even had a list of bulleted questions that he was too lazy to separate.
Do you take these questions personal? To some extent, they take a toll, even if you are completely secure with who you are. Death’s have even resulted because of formspring. People don’t know when to stop; or they do, and just want to break you. I won’t lie; when I first got negative questions, I felt bad. But, then I realized that this was my perfect opportunity:
If you were never the facsimile of your friends, a carbon copy of the reigning culture in your school, you may have experienced bullying for being too tall, or short, black or white, gay (although you had no idea what it meant at the time). I did, and as a kid, I was always too sensitive to respond to get them off my back. But now, after three and a half years of hardened High School life (Yes, I’m Hard, like the Rihanna Song), I learned that I can use these questions to my advantage. So I did.
You saw it. Some of the things I wrote were completely foreign to me. I finally learned to insult people back if they threw me a nasty look. People were shocked: Kwame Ocran said WHAT? (Yes, yes I did.) I was torn; I said really mean nasty things, but I also got to conquer my childhood foes manifested in several nameless individuals who I do see on a frequent basis (Yes, that means I know who you are. Be afraid. Be very afraid.)
What was intriguing about it, though, was that you may have been lucky enough to notice who's writing style graced your inbox. (Again, I know who you are.) Facebook is really good about showing a history and precedence of someone's method of typing. Not everyone is completely straightlaced when they make comments, and if you've been around them long enough (which I have, Thank Jesus!) you could tell in an instant who the person is. Whatever happened to, "Say it to my face!"
Formspring allowed people to be insulted because they asked for it. Such is the price for network fame.
Here's another problem: it promoted unnecessary bullying. In my opinion, bullying is a necessary evil, because it uses karma to elevate and depress those who are involved based on their actions. I became proud of myself in no small part due to bullying. Though Social Networking created artificial bullying in copious amounts, it also created bravery.
If you’re insulted online, say something back; what are they going to do? Hit you? All is fair in love, war, and social networking.
Fear is broken on formspring; if you noticed, times came when I did not hold back. (The power felt good.) But I do think it was too much for people to handle. We need a couple more years of maturing before we can really ask insightful deep questions without being rude, insensitive, and simply, disgusting.
As for me, I'm done with it, and I hope it dies its death without a struggle. I only came back for that last question that I knew was on everyone's minds: "Do you think you got into your schools because of your ethnicity and your sexuality?" WHY? JEALOUS? Lol! (Just Kidding...lol)
If you continue to use it, don't get mad when people insult you, you asked for it. If you insult people online, I suggest finding a hobby or speaking to the person in person. I do.
What I do hope for, however, is the change in our mentality that allows for respect of an individuals flaws and shortcomings and the cessation of our need to intrude into the private lives of public people. Then again, a boy can only dream.
But, I swear, if someone asks Delroy if he is a virgin one more time.... I'll just shake my head. Damn Formspring.
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