When really - what are they - but arbitrary concepts that we infuse with our own subjective values, judgments, and beliefs. We take something invisible - someone's worth - and we make it visible. Concrete. Knowable.

You're "smart" because you score 1600 on your SAT's.

You're "white trash" because you live in a trailer park.

You're "inferior" because you're black. Or a woman. Or Islamic.

You're a "freak" because you don't look like me.

And the balls of the whole thing is that we believe these moronic, illogical labels.

I've been called stupid on more than one occasion - and I have to say - no matter how much I don't want to believe it ... I still do. Call me ugly. Call me worthless. Call me incompetent. And regardless of how strong my self-image ... words are powerful. Labels are even more powerful.

See, in all our marvelous strength, we are fragile creatures. Or maybe I'm just being autobiographical here ... because these words ... well ... simply put - they hurt like hell.

My pillow has seen its share of tears because of someone's words. Or expectations I couldn't meet. Or an ideal I couldn't compete with.

Dammit. It pisses me off.

I spent the last few hours here in my killer clown infested basement crying because of something I couldn't be.

Completely failing to honor who I am ... I cried for what I didn't have. For who I wasn't. For, honestly, some person I could never become.

But, pardon the French here, FUCK THAT.

Took me a couple hours to realize exactly what I was doing to myself.

I thought of a quote from Richard Gere which I found particulary amusing when I first read it:

"If I was a giraffe, and someone said I was a snake, I'd think, no, actually I'm a giraffe."

That Richy. So eloquent.

He had the right idea though. If I believe I'm something and you tell me something different ... why does that make you correct?

I mean, if you take a glance across human history, we've been telling a whole bunch of people a whole bunch of things about themselves that were so far from the truth you couldn't even get UPS to deliver there.

Look at what we told slaves. They weren't human. Hell, they weren't even on the same par as cattle.

And women ... well, they were nothing more than baby machines. They didn't have the mental capacity to engage in work. Or retain education. Or even hold a rational thought in those tiny little heads of theirs.

Lest we forget the Native Americans, or the Chinese, or Homosexuals ... and the list continues.

The common thread? All those things people said - and believed - were WRONG.

Not just a tiny bit wrong but wrong in a mammoth, titanic way. In like the complete opposite of right kind of wrong.

The reason their words had power was because we gave them power.

The reason I was crying is because I chose to believe they were right.

But, you see, they're not right.

They've NEVER been right.

We are the masters of our fates. We are the captains of our souls.

Sticks and stones may break my bones. But names shall never hurt me.

So go ahead world ... tell me whatever you want to tell me. Tell me you don't believe in me. Tell me I can't do it. Tell me I'm wasting my time.

Because all they are - are words.

Not facts. Or truths. Or even likelihoods.

They're just little, tiny puffs of air.

So you can have your words. That's all that belongs to you. I've taken back my power. It was never yours to begin with.

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