A Condom CAN TOO Be a Thinking Cap!

It all started a few nights ago when I was asked to select a security question for the new Gmail account that I had created.  Of course I noticed that the drop-down bar featured a "Make Your Own Security Question" question.  As I typed into the provided text box, "What is the name of my imagination?" followed by "Strawberry Fields, Duh!" I realized that I just had too many ideas on my hands to NOT have some kind of a consistent outlet for them.
Writing is my passion and I am sincere about projecting my talents professionally. A significant portion of my time is devoted to honing my writing skills and exploring the medium of words.  As audacious as this sounds, I am not ashamed to admit that I have a novel in the making.
Allow me to formally introduce myself.  Jordan Von Nutella Bon Bon is not my real name.  I was born Jordan Nutela Bon Bon, but then I decided to add an extra "l" to Nutela, and then I decided to get back at my Jewish mother by adding the German preposition "Von" into the mix. 
Looking back on all of that, I now realize that I didn't have to hijack a hazlenutty, chocolatey spread in order to manifest my rebellion.  All I had to do was tell my parents that I am bisexual and gender queer.
Funny story, actually.  The other day, my mother was lamenting how when she had hoped to one day lose a daughter and gain a son, this was not what she had bargained for.  Or something to that effect.
Thankfully, or so it seemed that way at the time, I was able to provide consolation by pointing out that, indeed, it could be infinitely worse: she could have a child who fancied snorting heroin.  My mother's exacerbated reply was that she didn't understand why she was forced to be stuck at such an impasse.  Why did her choices have to be between a drug addict and a daughter who wanted to look like a boy? Couldn't she opt for having a "normal" offspring?
But no matter.  The purpose of this blog is to declare to whomever spares it a passing glance that, even though I care terribly at times, as we all do, I have learned to make the judgement call that some things are more important than caring.  And this blog is dedicated to those things that are important enough to be unashamed over.
I have always embraced my fierce uniqueness, but on October 23rd, the date in which I decided to physically represent my gender variance, I enveloped it at a level that was unprecedented, even by me.  It became so much more than I ever imagined it could.  I would say that I too became so much more, but I cannot, because I haven't arrived there yet.  I am, after all, only a college freshman. 
So really, this all started ages ago.  I decided to penalize the good 'ole folks in hell by wearing skirts on a less reliable basis, and here we are. 
In the words of Marc Cohen from the revolutionary rock opera RENT, "From here on in, I shoot without a script." I might be a dick, but I will be a truthful dick.  The only aim I have in mind is to relate to you all an honest account of everything, from my upper body to anarchy, from expression to abortion, from the clandestine corruption of the psychiatrict system to the merits of marijuana, and most importantly, from the unconditional importance of individual liberty to the severe implications of losing it. 
And even if I flounder about, at least I shall have no filter.