Le sigh...

So, yesterday morning.
Or maybe this morning. I don't really remember. Time is a vauge concept when you're circadian rhythm-- Cicada? *tsukutsukubooshiiiiii...*
Er HEM.
... consists of frequent 5 to 300 minute naps and 90% of the remaining time is spent staring into space over someone's head (or, more frequently, some piece-of-knitting-or-other). Anyhoo, on that morning, I went into my mom's room to ask her something, and watched her T.V. while I waited for her to help me. A lover-ly mudslide of earth-time drama met me, with more nuclear danger in Japan, more flooding of the Mississippi river area, further violence in Libya, and, oh goody, an earthquake in Spain. Just as I'm thinking "Goodness, no wonder everyone thinks it's the end of the world," my little brother walks in and watches the soldiers on the screen crawling about, pulling civilians from the wreckage and firing rounds off-screen and after a moment says:
"Oh yeah! RPG... RPG!"
I just looked at him... Or then I didn't. After the looking I said "That's all it is to you isn't it? No people? Just role-playing nothing, characters on the screen. Pixels." He acted more embarrassed than ashamed.
"No, I didn't mean THAT..."
But, oh yeah oh yes he did. It's a little bit Stepfather's fault. *grammer-jammer* He's the one who's been telling The Small Boy (little brother) that I think about things too deeply. Do I, perhaps? I am an American, after all. Even the floods aren't affecting me, yes? Safe and with no need for deep thought are we, deep in the heart of Texas.
And, apparently, my defective, impulsive tendency to think too deeply about things is exacerbated by my gender. I am female, granted, but I rarely-- if ever-- follow the sterotypes gifted to my sex by this oh-so-lovely world. Stepfather said, at dinner the other night, something to the effect of :"You're a woman, and you think about things different than us guys. I'm a guy. I don't think like you do. We say fag. We say gay. We're guys. That's how we talk." I had complained about his overly and unneccessarily frequent use of the given words. Now, I don't think this is a gender-enabled irritation. I'm a writer. It's Webster. He's in my brain-world. I'm a Webster girl. I want words to be used where they are meant to be as dictated by the dictionary or, to a degree, cultural SLANG, which I concede is a part of every spoken language in the world.
However. "Fag" is defined by Webster, and I paraphrase, as a derogatory word for a homosexual male. That's what it is. A derogatory word. A noun referencing a human male in the practice of homosexuality. Now, gay or not, it is in fact, as I stated, a DEROGATORY word. Compunction among non-familars is a pet-peeve of mine. I'm not sure how may gay people Stepfather knows, but I don't think he says this to them. He has only, within earshot of me, used this to describe The Small Boy and my Stepbrother (also younger).
And now for the word "gay." I just hate the WORD. Not gay people. I have several gay friends, and although (don't hate, now!) I disagree with their choice in sexuality, I love them very much (Rather, I love everyone, but I like them, additionally). They call themselves gay. Of course they do, it's the word to use. BUT... "gay" is too ambiguous a term. It's adjective form has three unrelated definitions: colorful (typically garishly so); happy (as in a certain Christmas song, I believe); and, most commonly, homosexual (specifically it is meant to reference males, but lesbian takes so much longer to say, so we must tolerate it for both genders' usage). Didn't anyone else get asked in elementary school, "Are you gay?"
Respond "What? No!"
And receive "Oh. You aren't happy?" in return, followed by hysterical, uninformed laughter?
{Or perhaps more informed in these days. The same joke is in play after the 6 years since I left grade school, but I recently heard that some 5th graders, male and female, were caught having sex on campus. Hm.}
That aside, I think the terminology of "gay" does NOT include stupid in its repetoire. I'm sick of it being used to that end.
Uhh. *shudder* Webster...!