uppity fags

All signs point to the likelihood that Lawrence King was gay.  At fifteen he seemed pretty sure of it, and he seemed secure enough in himself to do what all teenagers do, play with self expression.  But probably because he was gay his self expression led to playing with gender based expressions such as high heeled boots, scarves, pink nail polish.

Another kid around the same age, Brandon McInerney, had a big enough problem with Lawrence King that he eventually took a gun to school and shot him in the back of the head two times.  And now a couple of years later he's finally being tried.

I've avoided this subject for the last couple of years because too often when I consider my opinion I can't help but think of them both as children when this happened.  They both had a rough childhood with significant family issues.  I'm no expert on this situation, though I'll also admit that I could never give all the links to all the posts I've read about this since it happened.  I can't imagine at fifteen you don't know what a gunshot to the back of the head means, but I can't accept that a fifteen year old has the same mental competency as an adult who one can argue at least has grown up enough to understand consequences, and I can't imagine the input of the people around him to bring him to where he was.

McInerney's lawyers have already introduced the gay panic defense.  Gay panic, for anyone unsure, is what happens when a hapless heterosexual is preyed upon by a perverse homosexual, and because gay=awful, they couldn't help but react by beating the crap out of said homosexual.  I think it has a cousin in the idea that women dressed inappropriately invite rape.  See also, "If he hadna been all faggoty and shit I wouldna had to whoop his ass.  He's askin fer it being all faggoty."

Which brings me, in a long and winding sort of fashion, to this article from Ventura County Star.  Several teachers have admitted to having done nothing to stop this other than to make Lawrence King stop being so faggoty.  He was told to remove a scarf, makeup, and nail polish at different times, and a teacher worried that he was going to be dragged behind a shed and beaten to death.

They complain that the lesbian principle made it all okay and didn't listen to them when they tried to warn her that Lawrence King was asking for a whoopin'.  They blame her for not being aware of the problems.

I blame them all for letting the students be bullies and especially bullies to someone who was obviously struggling.  This poor little boy who so obviously needed for the people around him to stop chasing him and hitting and pushing him wanted what every other fifteen year old wants, to make sense of an increasingly peculiar world, or maybe that's just us gays.

The article ends in a very telling fashion with this question and answer between a teacher and the DA:

Brown said she once saw a group of boys chasing King, which she described as a potentially unpleasant situation. Fox asked her if she stepped in to stop the chasing.
"No," Brown said.

 

wouldn't it be nice

The following was posted on Facebook as a friend's status.  I started to make my own points about each of these fond memories, but I don't have it in me to be that guy to this particular person.  So I'm calling blog fodder and bitching it out here.  Also, it's not about bikes for the most part.

If you grew up on home cooked meals, you rode a bike with no helmet, your parents house was not "child-proof" , you got a whippin' when you misbehaved, had 3 TV channels you got up to change or went outside to turn the antenna, school started with the Pledge of Allegiance, stores were closed on Sunday, you drank water out of a water hose and still turned out okay, re-post this and show that you survived.

I grew up on home cooked meals for the most part.  My mother's repertoire was varied somewhat, and for the most part I'd say it was basically  basic American (USA edition) with a strong southern bent.  I may well know how to cook a lot more things than she ever needed, but what she cooked was always good.  Her own mother apparently was never much of a cook, so my own mother was essentially self taught.  Other than liver night I have no complaints about her cooking.


Yes, I rode a bike with no helmet, and though I've begun to wear one there was some small amount of wanting to fight it on my part.  I hate bike helmets that look like some sort of alien's skull on top of your own.  I feel like I look like a douche in them, and I put off buying a helmet for some time.  Big Brother had a helmet in time to start riding his bike to school, and I'm glad he wears it.  I'm not sure how I feel about the law, but where we live the helmets-on-bicycles law applies to those sixteen and under.


But I do wear a helmet.  I finally visited the skateboard shop and bought a helmet I don't loathe.  I even put one of the stickers the shop guy gave me on the side to attempt to get back some coolness points.  I can heal from a broken arm or leg, but impact induced loss of what little mental accuity I still have because I chose not to wear a helmet is likely a slightly worse blow, no pun intended.


As well as I remember the house I grew up in was not especially child proof, but sensible precautions were taken to care for any children and to guard against the likelihood of dangerous items reaching their hands.  And my own house has been the same way.  I don't have any intention to leave harm lying around in the path of my children, but I also understand that some lessons will be learned the hard way, so I make sure those lessons aren't the truly threatening ones.


You got a whippin?  How do people still glorify this sort of behavior?  I certainly got plenty of them myself, but I've worked really hard not to bring that into my present.  That I've turned out as well as I have in spite of being struck as a child as punishment for misdeeds does not make it okay to continue the tradition of striking kids.


We had more than three channels, and for a few years we did have to get up to change channels.  It involved turning a knob, and sometimes you had to adjust the rabbit ear antenna while barely turning the UHF knob to try to find the kung fu movies.  I appreciate technology and am more than happy to change channels by pushing a button while staying comfortably on the sofa.


Most people I know don't have a problem with the pledge of allegiance, but I do know people who have a problem with the phrase "under god" being a part of it.  I have a problem with that phrase.  It's a way of excluding people, and I think that it's unAmerican.  I don't like it, and I don't think it should be there.  


Stores can close on Sunday or any other day.  The place I work at closes early on Sunday, and a restaurant down the square closes early on Monday.  No one should have to not open on Sunday, and I'll go so far as to say that blue laws should not exist that require certain businesses to not open on Sundays.  The only reason this exists is as a vague nod to religious traditions that many people don't necessarily follow, and it feeds into the system that allows exclusion of people based on religion.


I would probably still drink out of the water hose unless it tasted like water hose, and if I were thirsty enough even that wouldn't matter.


Other things that I like about progress is that there aren't colored water fountains and white water fountains, and you sit on the bus wherever you damn well please.  I like multiple television channels as well as the internet and smart phones and off buttons.  I like that I don't pretend I'm not gay any more.  I also like bobbers, decidedly low tech, as well as vintage bicycles, even older tech.  I like Sriracha a whole lot, which I haven't talked about lately, but I could easily do a blog post on that lovely little bottle of chili sauce.


There's nothing new there really for anyone that actually knows me or has read here for a while.  It's all standard stuff, and I do get why that misty eyed view of the past is so powerful.  I also get that progress for the sake of progress isn't always worth shit.  Maybe it's just me, because this little paragraph shows up periodically, and I hate every time, probably a little more each time than the last.  Hell, why don't we just go back to when we were banging rocks together, when our only real fear was getting gored by the wooly mammoth we planned to hunt as soon as we found one.  That's the life, no traffic, no screaming kids in restaurants, no tail winds from the Mexican we had for lunch, nothing but banging these here rocks and wondering whether I'd ever see the sun again every time a cloud covered it for a moment.

not my job

Some amount of conversation happened at work tonight between me and a coworker, and part of it involved me reminding him that I'm not into girls.  It wasn't so matter of fact as that, and I really don't remember any of what was said other than me using the phrase, "if I was into girls . . ."

Part of his answer involved him saying, "I know; you tell us every chance you get."

I don't know that I do the thing he said, but I won't pretend that I don't.  The thing is that I don't feel that I'm reminding people "every chance I get" as much as I'm just not playing any games or pretending anything.  To me, being out is more than just letting people know that we're gay.

To me being out means that I'm myself.  If my not gay friends are willing to notice and/or comment on the attractive women around then they need to accept that I'm going to mention and/or notice the guys I think are hot. 

Okay, on some level I am aware that I'm messing with them.  I get that it's not something they're used to.  I know way more people who are not gay than people who are.  It's merely a matter of fact.  It's how it is.  And I would wager that the vast majority of people as a general rule know far fewer homos than not. 

While sometimes I do set out to shock and to fuck with people, for the most part I'm just not willing to not shock and/or fuck with.  I'm not going to go out of my way to help keep their life squick free.  And for what it's worth, I do love telling people to "fuck your hetero normative bullshit!"

I should probably also admit that I can sometimes be the guy that turns too much into a euphemism, and of course mine are all totally gay.  I can throw some not gay euphemisms out there, but most of the time they too disturb the not gays.  Sadly, my ability to make things into a euphemism has become sort of it's own inside joke.  I think maybe I should do something about it, but it almost always makes somebody laugh, so I'll probably just keep going for the easy ones.

So, do I let everyone know every chance I get? or do I just keep it real?  Do I sometimes take things too far? or am I just being myself?

I probably should answer the one that means I need to think before I speak, but that would apply to my life in general.  I seldom stop to stanch the flow with forethought, and it's failed me just fine up till now.  I can't imagine doing something differently just because it makes sense to try a new direction.

And even if one day I do reach a point and finally start to ruminate a bit on my thoughts before verbalizing them, I'll still make sure you know. 

struggle this

Anti gay activists in Iowa want to take away the marriage equality that the state's supreme court gave us and aren't stopping there.  They want to make sure that there is no chance that relationships between gay couples are recognized on a civic level.  This means that they aren't happy just to take back marriage equality, but they want also to make sure we can't even look forward to civil unions.

They know that there will be gay people rallying in support of our cause, our cause being the desire to maintain equal rights, and to show that they are driven by love the anti gay activists are planning on giving away bags of cookies.  That's right.  They're going to show us love by trading their cookies for our equality.

I've actually seen this story a couple of times, and I've been outraged by the sizable balls on display when christianist tell us how much they love us but don't want us to be equal in the eyes of the law.  The Friendly Atheist posted about this today, and I was finally compelled to say something myself.

What's especially galling is the wording so often used by the anti gay activists.  They can't just admit that we are people, people who also happen to be gay.  So, like usual, they play with words to put us in a light that they feel makes them look better, makes them look like their cause is not a despicable and nasty jab.  What they want, in their words is to show love "to people who are struggling with homosexuality."

Here's the thing.  I once struggled with homosexuality.  I call it being in the closet.  I knew I was gay, but I pretended I was just bi and that being in a heterosexual marriage and having a family was going to make me hetero enough so that being my true gay self didn't need to happen.

I was unhappy and miserable for the most part.  I struggled to be okay with my decision.  I tried to be strong and maintain my family, though what I never realized is that tearing myself up inside was as unhealthy for me as for those around me.

I struggled with homosexuality until I finally accepted that I am gay.  Now I've embraced that I'm gay.  I'm happy and proud to let myself be who I always should have been.  I no longer struggle with homosexuality.

Of course there are still struggles.  Sometimes it feels that life is a series of struggling from one struggle to another.  But when it comes to my sexual orientation I don't struggle with it anymore.  I admitted the truth to myself.

or is it cuz my glass is half empty

I'm still not convinced about DADT repeal.  I know it's essentially happened, but there's the whole other part where it doesn't really take affect until the military has thought about it a little bit more and figured out how to go about it.

It really shouldn't take more than to rewrite some passages in whatever written guides/codes/manuals they use to make their rules clear to the people in the military.  The rules aren't changing at all as far as members of our military should be concerned.  The only difference that anyone should really notice is that more gay people are able to be out and honest about themselves, and that's just good for everyone.

I can't imagine that should take too long to figure out, and then you actually train people.  I don't know if it would be a sensitivity training class or a video.  I suppose it would more likely be a DVD these days, but still.

Really, all it should take is for everyone to sit down and reread the rules rewritten to include reality as concerns sexual orientation and individual gender recognition.  The rules aren't changing, they're just recognizing everyone now.

And I know how a Republican can spin some shit, and I fully expect enough of them to band together and try to make this study/implementation process take two years while their brothers and sisters in the party continue to bombard Obama with obstinacy and rhetoric.  I should hope that the American people finally begin to recognize the shenanigans on both sides and push us in the direction of a third party that isn't spoiled by the big time guvment jobs.

I know it's a done deal, and I'm not concerned for the actual repeal of DADT as much as I am the hurt that could be done to too many people if this thing continues to drag on.  What you have to understand is we're gay, and we're not going back in the closet, and we're going to keep being out and open so that we can one day close the useless and finally empty closet because no one is going into it anymore.

come out wherever you are!

You're most likely familiar enough with Facebook, but what you may not be aware of is Fabulis.  It's sort of a Fb for gay men.  So far it's not a hook up site, and that's nice.  It's still in it's early stages, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it or how I feel I fit in there, but over all it seems like a potentially delightful resource.

All of that is to explain the fabulis questions which are questions you can post to other members and that other members might post to you.  They're sometimes interesting and thought provoking, and sometimes they're just nonsense which is as it should be.  One I got today, and I imagine all members got today, from one of the founders, was this, followed by my answer:


Q: Today, October 11, 2010 is National Coming Out Day in the U.S. (It's also celebrated on the 12th in the UK). We'd like to know, what does OUT mean to you?
When I think of being out I can't help but think of it in levels of outness based on the situation you are in at the moment.

My family knows, but we don't talk a lot, and they're very Baptist for the most part, but it's a really big southern family, and there's a lot we don't talk about.  Plus they live in a different state, though close enough to visit sometimes.

At work and in my social life I'm completely out.  I see no reason not to be.  I don't have a problem being gay, and I don't have a problem if some people with opposite sex attractions choose to live that lifestyle.  It's not for me, and I want to make sure that straight people know that I'm gay so that if they have a problem we assert from the beginning that it's going to have to remain their problem.  I don't really have room in my life for it.

Each spring and fall for the past few years I've coached my oldest son's soccer team.  I coached both of my boys till we realized soccer wasn't for the youngest.  I'm not out even a little bit there.  When we started this whole soccer thing my oldest was five, and for all intents and purposes we were a fairly normal family, mom and dad with two young sons.  I was even a stay at home dad at that point while my wife followed her career.

I'd love to feel like I could be out at soccer, but I'm not sure how they'd take it.  While our social life involves that part of our town that's the hipper and closer to town part, soccer takes us north to the more socially conservative part of our town.

Also, it doesn't come up.  I kind of want to say it doesn't matter, but I lied for so long in the closet that I just feel dishonest sometimes.  And it kind of feels like the closet all over again.

Really, coming out is a never ending process.  People tend to assume you're not gay and don't really even think about the fact that they've already made a judgment about you.  It isn't necessarily a big deal except that you are consciously making judgments because you are gay.  And I know in my case that I'm always looking for an ally or, better yet, a fellow homo. 

I want to think that there will be a day when being out isn't a big deal, that we'll one day be accepted as normal people,  that it won't even be a curiosity that we are also gay.  But I can't help but think there will always be some sort of coming out process.

dang YT's gettin in my bidness

He did that head thing and gave me such a look when I accidentally used the word boyfriend at the table in front of his mom.

I kept the Marilyn Monroe tshirt he gave me for years, and while it slowly deteriorated from use and time that hole in the front was always there.  We were smoking his sisters pot, good pot, and he'd rolled a good size joint.  We were both done before the joint was too far gone but kept insisting on passing it till I couldn't hold it.  I tried not to take it, but he was insistent as only a pothead can be.  I dropped it, and before I realized it had started to burn my stomach through the hole it had already burned in the shirt.

I've been listening to random mashups over at the YouTube, and I came across this song, and it's put me in a sort of retrospective mood.

Both these songs meant something to me then, the Nirvana song because of the time and my place in it and the Dead or Alive song because he loved it and played it and found a seven inch copy of it one day when we were hanging out.  The song always reminds me of him.

He shared the same name as another guy I'd kind of been hanging out with.  We'll call them C1 and C2, C1 being the one mentioned above.

C1 was younger but had obviously figured out he was gay much earlier in his life than I or C2.  We were fumbling along trying to figure stuff out while C1 rolled his eyes that we still didn't know.  I never really was able to deal with either of them in an intelligent way because I just didn't know how at the time, and before I was ever able to make sense of it I was gone.

I got a chance to leave Atlanta and took it.  Charlotte was far enough away so that I could be myself, or so I thought.  And it was a number of quite random happenings that even opened the door for me to take the sudden flight to NC in that maroon Volkswagen that day.

Thinking back now it's almost as though I had competing sides, the long term punk rock me that was into something not unlike the personal punk rock nihilism I'd grown to think was cool versus the wanting so to emerge me that was gay and just wanted to be.  He didn't see much sunlight for a long fucking time.

But what if I'd stayed? 

See? it just don't bear worrying about.

this is why

boy meets girl, they fall in love, ... There are other kinds of love, of course, but romantic love is none other than this - and if portrayed to be otherwise, its aesthetic value ... mysteriously vanishes

Boy meets girl.

I'm so tired of that story line.  Boys meeting girls happens all the time, and some of them know what to do with it, and some of them are idiots and fuck it up from day one.

And that's the story we all hear, that is hammered home daily, that boy meets girl and happily ever after flows forthwith.

But I don't want to meet a girl.  I'm not made to do it that way.  I want to meet a boy and fall in love and be happily-ish ever after.

But the romantic quality of that relationship according to some douchebag that writes for a right wing blog site would find his penis slightly less erect when it came time to bone down with his god fearing love slave if I got to be a little bit happy just once.

And I'm tired of religion fucking everything up for everyone.  If you want to worship and believe then fine.  I really, really don't care.  I might make fun of you when you're not around, but is that any reason to insist on forcing your bronze age myths onto everyone?  Really?

h/t Prop 8 Trial Tracker

he's talking about his . . .

It's time for one of my self concious in/out of the closet moments.  It's not new to me, but I don't think I've quite shared with anyone else.  Momma's probably seen and noticed it, but I haven't actually discussed it with her, so I can't be sure.  But she is somewhat astute.  She catches stuff sometimes.

And it has to do with my hair.  I'm going to tell you about it.

You may not know, but not so many years ago I was the guy with the shaved head.  I even have my own clippers.  I was really good at buzzing it all off myself, though I did always ask nicely and would get Momma to run around the edges, because I always missed something.

The worst was around my ears.  I always missed a nice long strand, and I would never notice it till a couple of weeks had passed and it was noticeable as it and the hair around it grew.  And I don't know how I always missed that bit.  Early on I noticed a pattern and paid extra special attention to that area.

Hair is damn fine insulator.  It holds in much more heat than you might realize unless  you're going bald or have been or are the shaved head guy.  Depending on when I last shaved the noggin and depending on what time of the year it was I might reach needing-a-nother-swipe time in the colder months.  Sometimes I'd let it go longer because I knew that I'd be that much colder for the next little bit after removing it, but I hated my hair and would also just want it gone.

If I didn't shave it it was unmanageable and sucked and was wispy and mousy and sucked, and I hated it.

And then somewhere around the time I came out and unrelated to my coming out I just didn't cut it one winter.  I actually didn't cut it at the time because of the winter.  I kept the insulation intending to shave it in early spring, and then I didn't do that either.

And then it was all kinds of looking like shit because it hadn't been cut into a style and was pretty much growing in as a horrible mullet like thing.  I had a friend trim the sides and back enough to fix that situation, and eventually I went to a local chain salon and paid someone.  For the first time in years someone else cut my hair with some concern as to making the cut something that added something of a style.

But by that point I was sorta on a mission to just let it grow.  I was never allowed that luxury as a child.  My haircuts were provided free of charge by my father when he decided that it was hair cut night.  Each of my brothers and I took our turn in line to get a get little missionary style haircut.  He did a great job, as far as I know, and only nicked me a couple of times over the years, but I never really had any option but the one cut we all got.

And though I'd never really thought that I wanted long hair I let it grow, and in the process I changed my attitude about my hair and stopped forcing the curl out.

I actually never realized my hair would curl the way it does.  I'd always hated what my hair did and, when I actually had hair, I forced it to not curl.  When I let go and let grow however I saw what it was actually capable of, though I'll admit that I have to control the curl to be sure that it doesn't go the wrong way.

And now I just hate the sides.  I don't really hate them in general, but I do hate them now.  My hair needs to be shortened, and when it gets as long as it is the sides go all sorts of stupid.

Am I in a better place with my hair?  When I had none to concern myself with I was never really concerned with it.  I buzzed the clippers around my head for a while, swept the floor after dusting myself and took a shower.  There was a lot of craning my neck and trying to align a hand held mirror with the one on the medicine cabinet as well, but that's a given.

I should point out now that I've re-resorted to cutting my own hair, but this time I use scissors.  I seem to at least be able to get my hair to a uniform not bad where it's all roughly the same length, but I still have to get Momma to come behind and fix what I can't see.

But I don't wanna.  I want to pay someone who actually makes their living making hair look nice in a way that me, the bathroom, a wet comb and those damned scissors can't.  There's a whole other part of this dream where boys run into things accidentally because they can't take their eyes off me as I walk by, but that's not part of this post.  I'll write about that another day.

I like stories

My feed reader is not always in a state of flux, but I do sometimes recognize the need to plow through all the blogs and news-ish sites that clutter the place up. I add things haphazardly, often only to find soon after that it wasn't what I'd expected or that I'm not nearly as interested as I thought.

Many of the blogs that I've held onto are dormant, sites that I once liked and hope one day to see a new post show up from.

I may have mentioned I'm From Driftwood before, though I don't really remember. It isn't especially new to my reader, but it's recent enough that it still feels sorta new, and I'm totally in love with it.

IFD describes itself as "true stories by gay people from all over," and the posts are often about coming out. I've considered putting together a nice little something to submit, but my writing isn't coming often enough, though I have to admit that whatever reason I give is going to be an excuse. Part of me hesitates because I know I'll be opening myself to that much more of an audience, and even though I don't know 99.9999% of the people who would read it, I still have opening up issues. Sure, you might not suspect that of me if you've ever read my blog here, but it's true to an extent.

All that being said, today's story reminded me ever so slightly of my own story. Much of what the writer says does not parallel with my own story, but there are little things that he mentioned that I could relate to, and I wanted to share.

Maybe it's time to just go ahead and start a new post and start babbling and editing until I whittle a nice something that I can post. But then I'll just make up an excuse. I'm sure the kids need something from me, and I'm sure we're all approaching hungry enough to bother with food, and I don't really want to spend my whole evening in front of the computer, and it's not really as good a story as those of other people, and who really cares anyway, and blah and more blah and more blah, blah, blah.

thinking or not thinking about not thinking about thinking

The following post was written and edited, probably poorly, before this paragraph. I can't decide if all that follows sounds familiar because I've posted about it before or because I've written and deleted similar posts before. If it all sounds to familiar you are more than welcome to find the little red square with the x in it. Clicking it makes me go away.

There's no sense pretending that I'm in a great place right now, but I'm not as badly off as I could be or as badly off as I have been. It's arguable that I'm as likely as not to be worse off in the future, but I'm at least thinking I'm digging my way out of this.

One thing that's working in my favor is that I'm not depressing myself much by thinking about those things that depress me, mainly my seeming lack of money and my definite lack of a love life. I'm not going to even bother mentioning the complete nonexistence of a sex life, but that is by design as I'm not trying to get any and of course am therefore not getting any.

If I think about money I'll drag myself into a pit where all I can think about will be money. Right now I owe my landlord just over half the rent he was due for the month, but I have the money. I'm kind of surprised I haven't heard from since I got paid Friday, as that's the day I told him I'd have the rest. I'm also going to send my next student loan payment about a week early so that I can get that money out of my account where I am too likely to accidentally drink my way into it.

That's not entirely as likely as it has been in the past. I do have a history of spending the bulk of my money at the bar, but I'm working on that, and the biggest help here is always going to be keeping tabs on my bank account instead of running up tabs at the local.

Anyway, I've got those two monetary exits, and this time I'm not going to forget about them when I look online at my balance and don't see them having gone through yet. I do fully expect about 80% of my next check, just over a week from now, to be an in full payment of my next month's rent.

I also owe Momma somewhere in the realm of five hundred dollars for bills we still share, most of which is a bank loan we took to pay off a credit card that had begun to eat us alive. She's been cool about letting me slack in getting money to her, and while I fully expect her to continue to be cool I fully expect the weight of the knowledge of this debt to continue to weigh on my own mind. But I try not to think about it.

I haven't mentioned my phone bill yet, and I can't for the life of me figure how AT&T justifies charging nearly twenty dollars for removing Momma from the deal and putting me entirely in charge of it. It's highway robbery, but my option is to spend even more money to end my commitment eleven months early. Chances are though that near the middle of 2011 I'll be shopping for a new service provider. For what it's worth, AT&T isn't likely to get more than half of their bill from me before I next get paid.

And speaking of pay, that's a whole other depressing thing that I'm trying not to think about, but my role as a cook for hire and my feelings about my place in this business are fodder for a whole other post.

Hoping we've entirely covered how much money I owe random people and how not thinking about it is not depressing me with it we can move to love/sex/relationship issues that I've mentioned I'm also not thinking of.

To say I'm not thinking about any of it is a bit of a lie. I'm not allowing myself to dwell on it, and I'm contenting myself with telling myself I'm being patient about it. I don't run across that many gay men in my normal daily life, and I don't actually have any close friends that are gay that aren't lesbians. I love my lesbians, and they are great friends, but there's still only so much that we have in common.

Not working toward or looking for a relationship is driven by two reasons. One is that I have a bad habit of rushing into sex when given the chance. Because my chance encounters are so random, when the idea seems to present itself I, by habit, rush it like kids around the pinata that just hit the ground. I want to not do that in part because when things don't work out I can't not think of that later, and any chance of a normal ol' friendship with that person is negated. And I do need to find friends of the gay male variety. It would help me to not feel the aloneness that I also don't think about. It would be nice to actually feel like there were other people like me out there.

A second reason for the avoidance is that I don't really think I'm in a place to be a good partner. Some of this gets back to the cooking for a living issue mentioned above. Being in the closet for so long gave me a view of who I am and what I like that is wrongly colored by being in the closet. I'm learning that my love of the kitchen is different than I thought, though I have yet to figure out how I most want to approach food and cooking.

I've mentioned in the post previous to my most recent overly long blog silence my writing. I'm not sure what I want to do with it, but I'm falling back into some amount of habit of doing some amount of writing. And this isn't the only thing that interests me, but the other interests are things I'm worried to approach. I never allowed myself to even consider so many things as interests from inside the closet that I'm now almost overwhelmed with ideas and stuff and things that are like ideas.

A sad fact here is that I'm spending too much time not thinking about some things and not enough times thinking about other things. While I'm not really doing that much, my life seems to be moving quickly through too many days of the same ol' thing.

Momma discusses the idea of working toward finding balance, and that's what I need to do. But I keep not thinking, so I keep not doing. But even when I'm not thinking I'm still thinking. Now I just need to really think and work toward focus.

three plus hour drive

Blogger is offering me some new templates with which I could change the look of this here blog, but I think I'm going to mostly not do so for now.

As it happens currently, that I'm on a computer and attempting anything means that I'm at Momma's house. She's at work at the moment though will soon enough be heading here, and then I'll go home myself. I picked up an early shift tomorrow and would like to get to bed soon and get up and to work on time.

I may offer to pick up another shift Tuesday as I need the hours, but it would be nice to have a break. My last day off was last Tuesday, and my next days off will be this weekend. That's right, like normal people I'll have Saturday and Sunday off.

I'm taking the weekend off in order to drive to Atlanta for the wedding of my oldest niece. Perhaps by the time we're there and I'm seeing her as an adult my mortality will flash full in my face, but I'm surrounded regularly at work by people, on average, ten years younger than me. There is one server a few months younger than me, and the owner and his wife are at least in their 60's I assume, though I've never asked them. But for the most part I'm very much the oldest person employed there.

I'm looking forward to the trip this weekend. Of my growing family I've seen two brothers in the last three years, and I've seen zero of the rest of them in three years.

Of course it can't help but be a little odd. The last I saw the bulk of the fam I was not gay as far as they knew. The two brothers who've visited me knew and were kind enough to leave me to make my own schedule of coming out. Soon enough after that last visit I sent the bulk email in which I told them all the news, and that had something to do with my choice to refrain from visiting.

I could make lots of excuses as to why I avoided the family for far too long, yet I can't help but feel that those excuses are just that and lame as well. At the same time I think I can justify somewhat reasonably my choice. I don't expect anything but happiness to see and be seen, but I can't know, and I have this habit of avoidance when it comes to even a chance of discomfort or having to talk about stuff.

Of course I'm also pretty much opener than all hell when it comes to being out here in my current hometown to the point where I go out of my way to let people know fairly quickly. I'm just not willing to hide.

A good example happened recently at work. The kitchen was closed, and I was off work and at the bar enjoying a beer before heading home. We'd hosted a rather obnoxious bachelorette party, and one of the attendees was in the bar for some reason about which I didn't care. The only other person at that moment in the bar not a coworker was a customer that I didn't know, and he was happy to flirt with the party goer. Somehow the suggestion came up that he would be willing to marry the partier, and I was asked if I'd be willing to marry her.

I shook my head and explained matter of factly that I'm not into girls. He then asked if I'd marry him. Have I mentioned before that I'm kind of an ass sometimes. I looked him over, gave a look that I'm sure was more than a little disdainful and answered that no I would not.

Friends tend to learn quickly what they can and can not get by with when it comes to discussing the gay and my own the gay. It's certainly not a taboo subject, and I'm even willing to answer stupid questions that people have. I'm sure to them the questions aren't stupid, and I believe it's best to be open and out and answer those stupid questions. It's really the best way for people to release their stereotypes and learn that we homos are pretty much not any different from them. At the same time I'm not willing to stand for shit. I'm not willing to allow people around me to use the idea of gay as an insult.

So my point, as I dance around it for an hour or two, is that I'm, as mentioned, out and open. It's not even a thing anymore for the vast majority of people that I know. I even post gay stuff on Facebook sometimes, and I'm friends with all my brothers and my parents and the sisters in law. They at least have the chance to see the stuff I post, though they never comment on it. They didn't even mention when I posted the thing about Christiano Ronaldo and mentioned my belief that he's a rather attractive man.

And whether we ever get to my point doesn't even matter now. I've jabbered for long enough that most of you probably forgot where I was going. Part of my point is that I really don't care what anyone in the family thinks. What I do care about is how they act.

Chances are that it won't even come up. Perhaps they all will avoid the subject so as to not mar the sacred occasion of the matrimonial joining of my niece and that guy that I don't know but who she's marrying. I'm not going to be the douche in this instance. I want as much as most anybody for this to be a wonderful day for her, untainted with nonsense.

What do I expect? Lots of hugs and smiles and happiness at the reunion after too long. I expect to be amazed at the height and growth and ages of all the nieces and nephews. I'm sure my own kids will get tired of the "You're so big I can't believe it OMG ya'll." The Boy will freak out the first time someone tries to kiss him, and I'll do my damnedest to explain to people that they should just not try. I'll warn him ahead of time that people will attempt to plant smooches on him, and I'll hope that he'll at least be hugable and return hugs, and I'll hope that people can respect his wishes about contact.

What else do I expect? I'm sure I'll have a moment of sadness/depression as I convince myself that I'll never get married and can't legally anyway. Momma might have a moment as well. We'll remember our own wedding twelve years back and then the sudden change our relationship saw so not so long ago.

And what more might I expect? I can't know, but I can't let it keep me away anymore. I'm pretty sure I still love my family, and I'm pretty sure I'm tired of not seeing them for far too long.

seasonally speaking

It may just be that Momma and I are twins, she being the light to my dark.

She is the flowers and sunshine to my moonlight and desolation. It struck me tonight to hear her talk about doom and gloom which is my usual forte, and I thought of the song HERE.

The song represents me well. I know the darkness, and I work so much and so often to find my way and defeat that darkness. When Momma spoke to me tonight of her recent problems, I couldn't help but think of this song and hurt for her. She is in a place, somewhat new to her, that I find myself fighting all too often.

But that's not where I choose to leave it. I have a better song in mind. The band, Fastbacks, is certainly less well known than Johnny Cash, but it's a band that's been a longstanding favorite of mine. The song HERE is the song I choose to move on with. This is my current power anthem, the song that I dedicate to me and to Momma as we rise up and move forward.

is friended a word?

Another wrinkle has worked its way into my ongoing internal discussion about the two halves of my life, the out here but not there thing. A mother of one of The Boy's team mates has sent me a friend request on that social networking site we all love so well.

It's that damn internet's fault, making me searchable. I'm certain she could do more searching, and I've realized much before this that I am in fact more out than I can now have any control over. This was a deciding factor in my decision to stop coaching those three-ish short years ago. Okay it was one of any number of equally important factors at the time. Sadly, other coaches proved to me that, at least in my opinion, the league would be better served having me there.

I'm not sure exactly how to go about ignoring the friend request. I can't say that I have any real reason not to accept friendship from someone, but it's Facebook for fuck sake. I've gotta be able to be myself there.

Now I have to admit that I still haven't checked my privacy settings in quite a while and don't know what they're set to. I do remember the big to do that Fb was selling our children or something, and I got a message from someone on the inside explaining what they did and that I could go to this page and set it myself if I damn well wanted to. It was actually a nice message, or nice enough at least. And I did go and at least review my settings, but I don't know as of this moment which package I chose to go with.

I do know about my pictures. I may not be able to tell you without looking what all is there, but I've seen them all, and I know. There are a couple that other people might choose not to include. And it certainly makes me seem as though I drink more than I want most people to think. And there's that one from the birthday party and more than a couple in which I might look kinda gay.

And that's the thing, the information that gets out. I can only control it so much, and I only want so much to control it. I don't want to live a lie ever again. I don't want to have to be in the closet, and I don't want to have to have a sign over my head flashing HOMO whenever people see me. It's an essential element, and I can't know for certain how it informs and influences my choices and my approach to people and situations, but that's not really the question. I want to just be me with the homo part just that, a part of the whole.

And I'm left with not really knowing what to do. I'm going to tend toward my original plan of ignoring this person's likely well intended request. I mean, how do you tell someone, "I'm sorry, but I can't be your friend. You've stumbled on a part of my life where I'm able to be out and open, and since I don't really know you, even though I'm your child's very first ever soccer coach, I must respectfully ignore your request because of things I'd rather not discuss with you that, depending on your sociopolitical leanings and/or religious beliefs, may cause you to abruptly and distinctly change your opinion of me. I hope you understand."

in the closet? or just inside the shadow?

My Google reader has over two hundred unread items in it again. That isn't that many, but it does represent a couple of days of lessened computer time. Between Friday evening and Saturday late night lately I'm fairly busy.

Friday evening is soccer practice with the boys followed by attempts at feeding them healthy food, getting them into bed then obsessing over what I might have missed at their practices, what I can do to make the games go well and hoping none of that keeps me from getting to sleep.

And when I start cutting back computer time or just having less time for it, often my email is the first thing to get overlooked unless I'm expecting something. And I missed a comment recently to my most recent post as it came in just before the weekend mania.

The comment is from a blogger I enjoy who also happens to author one of two blogs hailing from Canada that I enjoy reading, Tossing Pebbles in the Stream and A Small Corner of Nowhere.

The comment was to my most recent post about the idea of deliberately outing closeted politicians who work against the interest of gay people. Sadly, when I saw that I had a comment, I had to go to the blog post to remember what I'd posted. I suppose it's been a while.

It's always interesting to have comparisons from people used to life in Canada but who are also well aware, through experience, of life in the US. I have to assume it's the subtle differences. And that's sorta what the comment made me think.

But then the idea of the closet crept back up.

There's some idea of levels of outness that I've considered before, quite possibly even thought about on occasion. There are so many variables that work into this equation when I really stop to think about it. One basic question to ask is Who Knows? The followup question is Are They Cool? Two distinct examples come to mind, work and soccer.

I'm pretty much completely out at work. There are a few new employees that I haven't told directly, but I can only imagine they'll figure it out soon enough. I work in a part of town that has a lot of cool places and hosts a lot of my friends, people I've met over the years of working and hanging out in the vacinity, some living in the area and some scattered throughout the city. Of the people living closest the demographic is young, hip, probably with more than a little money while the visitors are pretty much everybody in town for various events over the course of a year.

It's a safe place to be out, and it wouldn't matter anyway since enough people know that I have to assume that everyone knows. It's freeing to not give a shit. It's not nearly as gay as I'd like to see it, but even before I was out it was where I loved to be, where my two most regular bars are still. I'm accepted now just as I was before.

In this place, these several city blocks of this town, I feel like I'm just me. I can dream that I could meet someone and poetic nonsense will happen, and then a happy ending that involves growing old together with no wind chimes indoors.

And then there's soccer. Obviously, this is the place where it matters least. This is also one place I'd currently sorta most like it to not come up.

From the direction of our downtown you can follow the four directions to find somewhat different perspectives and opinions on life and politics. While downtown is a more liberal sort of place, driving north takes you into more conservative territory. We're currently in an in between but less lib sort of direction, and our soccer region is mostly the points farther out than us.

I don't want to judge the people who let me coach their children, and I can't know what they think because it doesn't come up. I do my thing, they cheer, maybe we'll win next week, and then the season is over.

I have a whole other complaint here that I feel needs to be somewhat addressed and actually will be in the fall. I'm not sure what happened, but someone noticed something I noticed. One of the ideals I learned from my earliest coaching days with this organization is the idea that complete and total fairness was the ideal. There would be now stacked teams, no all stars beating up the "others."

I've coached some great kids, though not all of them should have been playing soccer. I've seen so many that just didn't really want to be there, but they made the effort, and sometimes I got some really good playing out of them. Some kids just DID NOT need to be there. They hated it, they didn't like or appreciate being pushed to do things they had no interest in, and you never know what to do.

Is there a good way to tell someone to ask their child if they really want to play soccer? This is the first season that Big Brother's team has been full of kids who all seemed interested to be here. Okay, now that I think, I can name a couple that would rather do other, but I also see these kids as being willing to pull together and do something great if I can just . . . They do actually enjoy playing soccer, and I'm refusing now to get sidetracked into the discussion about how kids are different and there are the kids who like playing soccer as well as the kids who hate losing anything. That's a great idea for a blog post, but it's not where we are right now.

I never mean to, but thinking about soccer gets me into a certain groove, and this is a great year for that. I stopped coaching for a short time, part of the whole coming out thing. Soccer just seemed too much at the time. Coming back to it is weird because so many of the faces in the organization haven't changed. And it should be mentioned that our preseason coach's meeting is held in a Methodist church. And that's a crap segue to get us back to my point.

I'm making assumptions like Hank Aaron hitting home runs when it comes to the idea that these people might learn their kid's soccer coach is gay, but I don't think that I'm entirely off base when I assume that it could be, at best, uncomfortable to have to deal with it. And there's the point that it kind of doesn't matter at all in this lone place and time. And while I don't see it ever coming up, I can imagine it ending poorly for all interested parties.

I would prefer people know. If they are accepting then it makes my life easier, and it shouldn't change or effect anything for them, but that's the main variable here. You just can't know who's cool and who's not.

When I'm downtown, if someone learns that I'm gay and has an issue, I have back up. I have places I can go if I need to, and I have friends that will stand up with me. Among the soccer crowd I have a huge unknown. They don't realize it, but there's a gay amongst them. And he's doing his best to coach your kids, to make them better soccer players and better teammates.

And if we get back to some of those stereotypes of gay people, I have worn my sunglasses in front of them, and on me they're kinda gay, which I'm generally okay with, but I'm sure my "secret" was telegraphed somehow to someone. Also, I love those sunglasses. I saw them on someone else and actually went to WalMart to buy them because I loved them so much. That also might be kinda gay.

drat

where ever

The idea of being forcibly outed isn't new. I imagine that any group of people who find themselves with a general disdain for gay people has probably run across the concept at some point.

Without getting too complicated, considering I barely skimmed the news source, I give you a couple of links.

Roy Ashburn, a Senator from California apparently has a voting record that tends to deny gay people equality. I honestly didn't read that much about the guy, so I'm taking The Advocate's word for it. That isn't really the point. The thing is, the guy's gay. He got himself a nice DUI while taking an anonymous male home from a gay bar. Days later he admitted that he's gay.

According to another article in The Advocate a blogger plans to out any number of politicians if they vote against something or other that also isn't the point. It's the idea of forced outing that is the whole point but sort of juxtaposed against the idea of anti gay politics coming from closeted gay people, which has happened before. Larry Craig would of course be a prime example.

With first hand experience I can tell you that the closet is a horrible place, but I can't for the life of me imagine a way that I could justify animosity toward gay people who were out.

That's a lie. On some level I can see a place where, from in the closet, my own jealousy might cause problems. Really it would depend on the reasons we find ourselves in the closet. We're all in for very personal reasons.

I also have to wonder how a closeted politician gets to a point where they are basically known, on some level in whatever town they spend most of their time, as gay, but they are able to remain closeted to the people who rely on them for political representation.

So, is it right or okay to out someone? That's really the basic question. Is it ever? Is it never? Are their circumstances that effect the decision?

Can we weight the question with factors such as the person's place in a political machine that often works to undermine efforts seen by many people as an attempt to achieve equality for a group of people that the person is also secretly a member of?

How do you weight for the what it does to a person and their family?

I want to argue that it's always for the best when a gay person comes out of the closet. It doesn't fix things really. It doesn't make your life immediately all it could have been. There's still miles uphill to slog, and we all have our own hill anyway. Throw in being secretly gay while casting votes in the senate to deprive gay people of the simple fact of being treated as equal, and you've created a whole new bunch of circumstances for yourself.

In the end, if you go out of your way to tell people not to do what you do in fact do then perhaps it's best that we all get to know that you do in fact do what you strike so forcefully against.

for-like-ever

Via advocate.com I learned of this article/interview at latimes.com about Ian McKellen. He's seventy years old and has been out since forever. I'm only familiar with him due to his roles as Magneto in the X-Men movies and as Gandalf in the Lord of the Rings movies and hopefully soon as Gandalf again in The Hobbit.

I need to do something about that familiarity, because the man has been in movies since forever as well. He has of course done actual theater. I will likely never see him actually doing thus, so he's a movie actor to me.

I've had the two links from above in tabs for what seems like days, which it has been, fully intending to write something, but I haven't really known how to approach it. I think I'll just leave it here, and if anyone does read they can comment and tell me what they think.

Also, I wouldn't post it if it weren't interesting, but I'm not going to review it more than to tell you it's got great gay power of story as JJ would say, assuming I'm using the phrase properly, and he throws in a couple of stabs at religion while making some valid points.

thirty is NOT thirty something

If you're a friend on Facebook then you may have seen my event invite. One does only turn thirty something about nine times, and I'm about to use up one more, and I'm nearing the limit.

I bought myself what I'm sure will be my only non alcohol gift, a sweet pair of sunglasses. A friend has the same pair, and I saw them recently and fell in love. I actually went to the evil Wal Mart for them. I suppose everyone does have their price, and mine involved a ten dollar pair of ladies sunglasses.

But I do look good in them, and that's really what matters. Some random person in China gets to pull a handle that presses plastic lenses into plastic frames all so I can look just gay enough.

I'd like to invite everyone to the shindig I'm making happen. I'm going to invite as many people as I can imagine I'd want to see to show up at my regular bar, and I'm going to drink beer and eat both wings and nachos. I may even see my way clear to some tequila.

Of course I know everyone won't be there, and I don't want them all there. The people that count will likely mostly be there, and that's what counts.

Did I tell you the story about how I never really made friends till I came out and then it was still weird but it's slowly becoming a thing I think I can do? It's a great story. It keeps going still. I think maybe one day I'll be good at it.

Anyway, that's all a bit more drama than we're going for here. It is true, but I won't allow it to bring this post down, so I'm checking out. It's time for more mindless BBC America.

omg five things that somethinged

Of the cars I've driven more than a few times, or semi regularly, over the years I'd have to say I probably owned as many as not. One of these cars was a certain green thing that certain friends or family might well remember.

Of the people I think of as friends there is really only one person I knew from this time with whom I'm still friends. I'm still related to most of the people I was related to then, but there are a shit ton more than then, but that isn't the point. I'm as friends with my relatives as I am, and the less said about that this moment the better, in a good way, seriously.

That one friend will remember this car, and there's a good chance that we were in it the first time I told someone that I thought I was gay. He was cool then, and he's cool today. Another guy I knew very briefly who gave me my first beginning to end, all the way blow job, the kind with no expectation at the moment of reciprocation, might also remember the car. So began my love of the blow job, but again, that's so not the point.

The point is the car, this particular thing that was in my family for a number of years. The last car my grandmother owned, the car I took over when she passed it on when she could no longer drive, the car that my oldest sister in law learned as a young adult to drive to work in, was a singular car in my mind. It boasted all the electrical amenities available in the very late seventies, was large and American made. There was an extra pillowy layer of cushion on top of the seat cushions that made it extra soft.

I hadn't thought of the dirty story from above for a number of years, but the damn Facebook did me in. Anyone there has seen the five cars quiz going around. If you know me there you may well have wasted some small amount of time looking at tiny pictures that fail to accurately represent what these cars truly represent for me. One could even imagine them as little time capsules of memories of times. This car certainly represents a certain time for me.

As mentioned a couple of fairly gay moments came to me in this car. What's gayer than coming out and sucking dick? And again, I hadn't really considered this car in a number of years till that damn Facebook quiz. I saw a friend had done it, and it looked cool. I've come close enough to owning the cars or had some share of ownership in them.

And then one of my brothers did the same quiz, and there among his five cars he's owned is the same car. The car in the picture is so far from the same color, but just seeing that shape and imaging that car, the nonsense and fun of being young, I was taken back in time to a moment so long ago. Such young, carefree days as only happen when we are too young to know better.

And years later, remembering this car, the trickle of ownership it saw for such a long time. Grandchildren rode in this car to eat at the cafeteria, then young gay man explores sexuality in a strip mall parking lot, while years later a young wife and mother goes about her day, all the above in style and luxury.

Don't get me started on the sofa in the garage that was left by a different grandparent in the house in which I currently reside. It was only recently that the sofa reached the garage, replaced by another sofa from my mother in law. Don't get me started on that sofa either.

motorcycles

First I should point out that I haven't ridden a lot of motorcycles over the course of my short life. I never had access to them in general. There was a family with whom my family were friends, and we visited them often over the years that we knew them. They had daughters the age of two of my older brothers and a son around the age of me and my next youngest brother. This kid did have a motorcycle or two, and a couple of times he actually took me riding.

Years later my next older brother bought a giant beast of a Honda Gold Wing, a bike I would never in my life imagine wanting to actually have. I have a whole other style when it comes to bikes, and it's a style that I never really allowed myself to think about till very recently.

I'm now going to make a connection that may seem a bit of a stretch, but in my mind it's sort of part of something similar. Do I start now with the disclaimer? I'm not into the gay fetishism of bikes and leather and the sort of things that go with that, but my interest in motorcycles is something that I feel I closeted like my being gay. It's something that I knew was there, but for whatever reasons I never allowed myself to consider.

It's always been there. I've always had to notice bikes wherever they are in relation to me. Even when they aren't the style or type that I would prefer I look and watch as long as I can see them. Even when it's a huge cruiser holding a pair of retirees who opted for the training wheels package I stop and look.

And now they're everywhere, now that I've allowed myself to accept that, somewhere deep inside me, there's a kid who never got a motorcycle but always wanted one. It reminds me of coming out, when I finally admitted and accepted that I like boys and not girls, boys were everywhere. It doesn't hurt that spring is trying to peep its first blossoms of warmth into the blue east Tennessee skies, because this town is a bike town, and they are everywhere.

If you want to see the sort of bike that forms a bulge in my pants then click HERE. It's an old Triumph and is so beautiful. I want one.

So, with some patience and hopefully some common sense, I'm going to get some more important things out of the way, things like finding a place to live and getting back to paying off the school loans, but there's a bug that's bitten me and an itch I'm going to have to scratch. I'm sticking some money in tiny increments somewhere no one but me will find it. I'm going to start looking for something probably oldish and beat up a little bit. I'm going to figure this thing out and make it happen.