It's one of those things people tend to say, people who aren't especially supportive of LGBT people, when they are discussing gay pride events. They might suggest that there should also be a straight pride event, and it probably draws chuckles of approval, though of course it doesn't happen.
It is even arguable that pretty much every day is straight pride. The few images we see of gay people in a positive light are the couple of sitcoms that have openly gay characters, but then those aren't people I admire or look to for affirmation. I don't watch Glee, though I have. It's not really that good a show, and it's not really that accurate for most gay kids. Also, if I want to hear actors singing Foreigner songs I'll . . . um, yeah, never want for that ever.
So what would happen if someone did in fact host/sponsor a straight pride event? We've never known because it's always been mentioned in an off the cuff joking sort of way.
Until now. According to Towleroad, religious leaders in Sao Paolo Brazil have decided to petition the government for just such an event, and the legislation has made it as far as the mayor. Will he sign it, or won't he?
Of more concern might be what would this event actually look like? I can't help but feel that part of the idea behind this would be to exclude gay people and to make a show of this exclusion. Gay pride, while possibly seeming to exclude people does just the opposite. An idea behind gay pride is simply increasing visibility of LGBT people, but another idea is to provide an outlet for all people to show their support for the equal rights of their gay friends and family members.
The few pride events I've attended have mostly been here in Knoxville, and they don't seem to feature a huge amount of straight people, but everyone who is open and fair minded is welcome. It's an inclusive gathering of people wanting to stand proudly and proclaim that everyone deserves fairness and equality. It's also a party and the only time outside of a gay bar that we can feel like we are in the majority. It does wonders to think of yourself surrounded by your community, and for so many it's a first.
So what could possibly be the point of hetero pride? It can't be welcoming and openness. It can't be support for a minority that is often mistreated and maligned.
But still I say go for it. What can it hurt? What do they hope to accomplish? Whatever their goals it's better that they are aired in the sunshine rather that to continue to grow in the malicious darkness.
Showing posts with label so gay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label so gay. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
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:
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.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
like a something doing something
I've always edited for content those things I've sent out into the world before. I may have not always edited or chosen as well as I could, but I've also set myself up as being better than I really am in real life.
I'm not nearly as soft spoken or as well thought out. There isn't much of a filter out with friends or even at work. Work is easy because we're all a bunch of losers on our way to hell anyway. Actually we're a fairly random sampling sort of place with too many people who are in bands. It'll be hell night at work if they all played a show together.
I also talk a lot at work, and probably you can't really imagine what a lot means in this little story, but it's a near constant aural barrage on my coworkers running the gamut from t.v. theme songs from my childhood to a constant dissing of any music playing that I don't like which is tempered by my witty way of sometimes singing with rather bawdy false lyrics replacing the actual ones. I also might sometimes be a little forward with some of the male servers.
In all these instances my desire is to amuse, to give a worthy laughing dialogue to a sometimes monotonous yet often horrific duty in our kitchen and dining areas. And as for being sometimes too friendly to the boys, I must say I think it's part of my job to let them actually know a homo and to be forced to deal with me on my terms so that they are nudged toward the realization that gay people are just as obnoxious and normal as they are and to get over any lingering nonsense.
I include nearly anyone in my joking and say things that are often over the line of decency, but my intent is never to hurt anyone, and when people realize that I'm really a decent guy they tend to cut me more slack than I deserve probably. On some level I like to make sure that as many people take the fall as I can possibly squeeze in. We all have some stereotype we can fit, and it's my job to remind everyone that it's only funny if anyone can fit into it. Or I'm just making that up to pump myself up.
So we finally get to the point of my meandering. Bob Vander Plaats runs a "family" group in Iowa that thinks that gay people are really not good at all. He's a far right social conservative that led a campaign to have judges removed from office because they voted to allow marriage equality in Iowa. He's on a mission from god to be as big a douche as he's capable of to gay people.
He was caught on video reacting to a joke that suggested that in Iowa one is unable to enjoy a cigarette but that loving gay couples are allowed to marry. I'm lifting the story from Box Turtle Bulletin, so click on their name for their take on the matter and more of the story plus links to why this guy Bob is an ass and why they hate the joke and his laughter. They also have video.
I don't get the joke at all. I'm not from Iowa, though I do have an aunt and uncle and possibly some cousins there. I met them once many years ago, and they seemed like decent people.
To be honest the actual joke goes as such, in Iowa you can't smoke a fag, but you can marry one. And perhaps my not being of Iowan heritage I'm unaware of some nuance that renders this joke unfunny to me. And that's why I hate it.
Oh, I also hate that the guy laughing at the joke isn't getting it either. I'm sure you can still smoke cigarettes in Iowa . . .
. . . unless the meaning of the joke is that it's unlawful to use a firearm to shoot a homosexual. That might be another nuance of the joke as "to smoke" is popular parlance for shooting someone or something with a firearm. That totally moves the joke along, because then you're suggesting that actually shooting someone for being gay is cleverly juxtaposed against basic human dignity and equality.
Wow, now I get why it's funny. Man do I feel silly.
I'm not nearly as soft spoken or as well thought out. There isn't much of a filter out with friends or even at work. Work is easy because we're all a bunch of losers on our way to hell anyway. Actually we're a fairly random sampling sort of place with too many people who are in bands. It'll be hell night at work if they all played a show together.
I also talk a lot at work, and probably you can't really imagine what a lot means in this little story, but it's a near constant aural barrage on my coworkers running the gamut from t.v. theme songs from my childhood to a constant dissing of any music playing that I don't like which is tempered by my witty way of sometimes singing with rather bawdy false lyrics replacing the actual ones. I also might sometimes be a little forward with some of the male servers.
In all these instances my desire is to amuse, to give a worthy laughing dialogue to a sometimes monotonous yet often horrific duty in our kitchen and dining areas. And as for being sometimes too friendly to the boys, I must say I think it's part of my job to let them actually know a homo and to be forced to deal with me on my terms so that they are nudged toward the realization that gay people are just as obnoxious and normal as they are and to get over any lingering nonsense.
I include nearly anyone in my joking and say things that are often over the line of decency, but my intent is never to hurt anyone, and when people realize that I'm really a decent guy they tend to cut me more slack than I deserve probably. On some level I like to make sure that as many people take the fall as I can possibly squeeze in. We all have some stereotype we can fit, and it's my job to remind everyone that it's only funny if anyone can fit into it. Or I'm just making that up to pump myself up.
So we finally get to the point of my meandering. Bob Vander Plaats runs a "family" group in Iowa that thinks that gay people are really not good at all. He's a far right social conservative that led a campaign to have judges removed from office because they voted to allow marriage equality in Iowa. He's on a mission from god to be as big a douche as he's capable of to gay people.
He was caught on video reacting to a joke that suggested that in Iowa one is unable to enjoy a cigarette but that loving gay couples are allowed to marry. I'm lifting the story from Box Turtle Bulletin, so click on their name for their take on the matter and more of the story plus links to why this guy Bob is an ass and why they hate the joke and his laughter. They also have video.
I don't get the joke at all. I'm not from Iowa, though I do have an aunt and uncle and possibly some cousins there. I met them once many years ago, and they seemed like decent people.
To be honest the actual joke goes as such, in Iowa you can't smoke a fag, but you can marry one. And perhaps my not being of Iowan heritage I'm unaware of some nuance that renders this joke unfunny to me. And that's why I hate it.
Oh, I also hate that the guy laughing at the joke isn't getting it either. I'm sure you can still smoke cigarettes in Iowa . . .
. . . unless the meaning of the joke is that it's unlawful to use a firearm to shoot a homosexual. That might be another nuance of the joke as "to smoke" is popular parlance for shooting someone or something with a firearm. That totally moves the joke along, because then you're suggesting that actually shooting someone for being gay is cleverly juxtaposed against basic human dignity and equality.
Wow, now I get why it's funny. Man do I feel silly.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
fwiw
It being twinnyleven I used the Facebook instead of actual talking or writing a letter or whatever people used to do. I sent a message to this guy that I'm afraid to like.
Maybe the problem with talking to him or saying anything is the writer that lives inside me and wants to edit everything before the recipient receives the message.
I hate talking to people sometimes because I can't edit. I suppose that I don't misspell words when I'm talking, but that's small consolation.
In the end I think I'm happy with what I wrote. Now I get to enter that period of waiting, hoping that he sees things similarly to how I see them. I get to hope that he likes me and that I haven't frightened him off. He takes my phone calls, so that's good, but I just don't trust myself.
I really do manage to fuck things up more than you might realize. I'm probably ruining something right now even though all I'm doing is typing words and trying to manage to convey thoughts. It's kinda how I roll.
And now all I can do is wait.
Maybe the problem with talking to him or saying anything is the writer that lives inside me and wants to edit everything before the recipient receives the message.
I hate talking to people sometimes because I can't edit. I suppose that I don't misspell words when I'm talking, but that's small consolation.
In the end I think I'm happy with what I wrote. Now I get to enter that period of waiting, hoping that he sees things similarly to how I see them. I get to hope that he likes me and that I haven't frightened him off. He takes my phone calls, so that's good, but I just don't trust myself.
I really do manage to fuck things up more than you might realize. I'm probably ruining something right now even though all I'm doing is typing words and trying to manage to convey thoughts. It's kinda how I roll.
And now all I can do is wait.
not trying equals not doing
I feel like I'm setting myself up for a big let down again.
There's this guy, and he's nice and sweet and hot, and I kinda like him. I kinda like him because I'm not letting myself get too far into this thing, but I also can't help feeling stuff and thinking things.
He lives just far enough away so that the car thing is an issue, and that's compounded by him having his own car problems right now. It's a situation, and it probably sounds worse than it is, or maybe I'm making it sound less worse than it is.
The last time I liked a guy it kinda blew up in my face when he incredulously and vocally realized that I really did like him that way and really did want a boyfriend. It was kind of a moment, and it wasn't fun.
There's another guy who just wants to have fun. I've been there once, and I'm not entirely against the idea, but it just isn't where I want to be in life. It isn't the kind of person I want to be. But what I want and what I feel like I can have are so often completely at odds with each other.
And neither of these situations need to be where I am in life. The one that I'm actually worried about could be part of where I want to be, but it shouldn't be the key component. That's so much easier to say than it is to act on, which raises a whole other bunch of list of whatever.
I feel like I've covered this, but it's probably something I've written about but never published. There are probably a few drunken rants in my drafts file, rambling rants that need never see the light of pixelated day.
So what to do? It's late enough tonight that I'll probably just dig up some obscure Les Paul and Mary Ford on the Youtube, because that seems to be what I'm doing right now. I'll wade through all that's built up in Google reader, all the blogs that are just sitting there, patiently waiting for me.
It isn't going to help me figure anything out, and it will more likely just keep my mind occupied enough that I don't have to think too deeply about anything. It's the internets and like a drug that way. Maybe if I actually had some drugs I could forget about everything the right way, but for now I'll just think about the cute and sweet boy, and I'll begin to compose Facebook messages to him where I bare my soul. And then I'll click on "cancel" instead of "send."
It's easier that way. And I can drag out the enjoyment of possibility longer before I say something and fuck the whole thing up.
There's this guy, and he's nice and sweet and hot, and I kinda like him. I kinda like him because I'm not letting myself get too far into this thing, but I also can't help feeling stuff and thinking things.
He lives just far enough away so that the car thing is an issue, and that's compounded by him having his own car problems right now. It's a situation, and it probably sounds worse than it is, or maybe I'm making it sound less worse than it is.
The last time I liked a guy it kinda blew up in my face when he incredulously and vocally realized that I really did like him that way and really did want a boyfriend. It was kind of a moment, and it wasn't fun.
There's another guy who just wants to have fun. I've been there once, and I'm not entirely against the idea, but it just isn't where I want to be in life. It isn't the kind of person I want to be. But what I want and what I feel like I can have are so often completely at odds with each other.
And neither of these situations need to be where I am in life. The one that I'm actually worried about could be part of where I want to be, but it shouldn't be the key component. That's so much easier to say than it is to act on, which raises a whole other bunch of list of whatever.
I feel like I've covered this, but it's probably something I've written about but never published. There are probably a few drunken rants in my drafts file, rambling rants that need never see the light of pixelated day.
So what to do? It's late enough tonight that I'll probably just dig up some obscure Les Paul and Mary Ford on the Youtube, because that seems to be what I'm doing right now. I'll wade through all that's built up in Google reader, all the blogs that are just sitting there, patiently waiting for me.
It isn't going to help me figure anything out, and it will more likely just keep my mind occupied enough that I don't have to think too deeply about anything. It's the internets and like a drug that way. Maybe if I actually had some drugs I could forget about everything the right way, but for now I'll just think about the cute and sweet boy, and I'll begin to compose Facebook messages to him where I bare my soul. And then I'll click on "cancel" instead of "send."
It's easier that way. And I can drag out the enjoyment of possibility longer before I say something and fuck the whole thing up.
Friday, January 07, 2011
is they or aint they
Chic-fil-A, home of one of my favorite chicken sandwiches, is owned by people who happen to be Christian. They are also closed on Sunday. The restaurant I work at is owned by an older couple who have their own belief system that they've not shared with me. I have no system of religious belief, and I don't believe in a host of other things. I'll freely admit to wishing that I had a unicorn for a best friend, but that's neither here nor there. Also, we used to be closed on Sunday until the owner decided we could do some bidness adding brunch to our schedule.
fwiw, I hate working brunch. It's the very bane of restaurant life. Most people hate it. May you always go to good brunch places and never suffer the indignity of a pre-broken yolk on you benedict.
Anyway, somewhere there's a conference involving a couple of churches and Christian couples learning how to be married in the proper Christian way. Of course that proper Christian way involves someone's interpretation of someone's interpretation of bronze age myths, and it filters through other filters on the way to the conference which lasts a day and a half or something.
I imagine Christian couple sleeping in cots in the gymnasium, holding hands across the empty space. Being gay I'd probably have found some nook in which to trap my partner and commit sinful acts, but that's just me. We wouldn't be welcome anyway, so that's really beside the point.
Chic-fil-A, in addition to being a slight pain in the ass to type, may or may not donate money to random organizations. I don't know. I haven't looked. Some intrepid blogger may well do it for me. I am sure that they sometimes possibly donate food to groups for events that might also involve some amount of people who don't like gay people.
The Chic-fil-A sandwich is not something I'm willing to boycott. Their waffle fries may not be as good as McDonalds regular ass fries, but they are the perfect side dish to the sandwich.
Chic-fil-A is sort of a reward for not killing anyone at the mall. I sorta tend to live and work on the square. It's a nice public space in the heart of downtown. There are a variety of buskers through out the day. There's the homeless guy selling our town's new street paper. Right now there are the last remnants of the ice rink, and in a couple of days there will nothing left of that but the increasingly smaller piles of ice. Sometimes you'll find someone passing a football with a friend American style, though only the employees of the Mexican restaurant across from where I work ever seem to pass a football international style. At almost any time of the day or night you're likely to see someone walking their dog, and sometimes it's a dog you know and can say hi to.
The mall is made up. It's a "public" space entirely devoted to commerce. It's full of mall people, and while I don't necessarily not like them, I don't necessarily like them at the mall. Maybe it's a turf issue. Maybe it's that they're all so seemingly alike. Maybe it's me and not them. Either way the mall can sometimes stress me out a little bit, and sometimes there's only one antidote for that stress.
Chic-fil-A's sweet tea isn't too bad at all, for what it's worth, but it really is their namesake chicken sandwich. It's a decent sized breast half, deep fried, served on what was once a toasted bun with a couple of pickle slices in the middle. I eat around the last pickle bite personally.
It's served in a small bag, white paper with a foil inside, and if you rip that little bag down the seam on the underside and then rip it open along the crease at the bottom you have room to lay down your waffle fries and create your little piles of ketchup and mayonnaise. I put them next to each other so I can mix them in the middle and still have either one by itself as well. On the sandwich I put mayonnaise and hot sauce.
And while I enjoy that fast food paradise, the mall melts away, disappears around me and ceases to exist. All my worries are gone, and I can see heaven in the distance.
Okay, not really. I'm still being catty in my head about all the mall dorks, but at least for a while my mouth is full and mostly free of words. I can sink into the goodness.
p.s. the whole point of this post is thanks to the fine people at towleroad.com. I really do love the blog. The link HERE is just the latest in a story that is ongoing. My own comment that is this blog post is in answer to comments that I've read here as well as other blogs. It's easy to sit back and laugh, so I do.
fwiw, I hate working brunch. It's the very bane of restaurant life. Most people hate it. May you always go to good brunch places and never suffer the indignity of a pre-broken yolk on you benedict.
Anyway, somewhere there's a conference involving a couple of churches and Christian couples learning how to be married in the proper Christian way. Of course that proper Christian way involves someone's interpretation of someone's interpretation of bronze age myths, and it filters through other filters on the way to the conference which lasts a day and a half or something.
I imagine Christian couple sleeping in cots in the gymnasium, holding hands across the empty space. Being gay I'd probably have found some nook in which to trap my partner and commit sinful acts, but that's just me. We wouldn't be welcome anyway, so that's really beside the point.
Chic-fil-A, in addition to being a slight pain in the ass to type, may or may not donate money to random organizations. I don't know. I haven't looked. Some intrepid blogger may well do it for me. I am sure that they sometimes possibly donate food to groups for events that might also involve some amount of people who don't like gay people.
The Chic-fil-A sandwich is not something I'm willing to boycott. Their waffle fries may not be as good as McDonalds regular ass fries, but they are the perfect side dish to the sandwich.
Chic-fil-A is sort of a reward for not killing anyone at the mall. I sorta tend to live and work on the square. It's a nice public space in the heart of downtown. There are a variety of buskers through out the day. There's the homeless guy selling our town's new street paper. Right now there are the last remnants of the ice rink, and in a couple of days there will nothing left of that but the increasingly smaller piles of ice. Sometimes you'll find someone passing a football with a friend American style, though only the employees of the Mexican restaurant across from where I work ever seem to pass a football international style. At almost any time of the day or night you're likely to see someone walking their dog, and sometimes it's a dog you know and can say hi to.
The mall is made up. It's a "public" space entirely devoted to commerce. It's full of mall people, and while I don't necessarily not like them, I don't necessarily like them at the mall. Maybe it's a turf issue. Maybe it's that they're all so seemingly alike. Maybe it's me and not them. Either way the mall can sometimes stress me out a little bit, and sometimes there's only one antidote for that stress.
Chic-fil-A's sweet tea isn't too bad at all, for what it's worth, but it really is their namesake chicken sandwich. It's a decent sized breast half, deep fried, served on what was once a toasted bun with a couple of pickle slices in the middle. I eat around the last pickle bite personally.
It's served in a small bag, white paper with a foil inside, and if you rip that little bag down the seam on the underside and then rip it open along the crease at the bottom you have room to lay down your waffle fries and create your little piles of ketchup and mayonnaise. I put them next to each other so I can mix them in the middle and still have either one by itself as well. On the sandwich I put mayonnaise and hot sauce.
And while I enjoy that fast food paradise, the mall melts away, disappears around me and ceases to exist. All my worries are gone, and I can see heaven in the distance.
Okay, not really. I'm still being catty in my head about all the mall dorks, but at least for a while my mouth is full and mostly free of words. I can sink into the goodness.
p.s. the whole point of this post is thanks to the fine people at towleroad.com. I really do love the blog. The link HERE is just the latest in a story that is ongoing. My own comment that is this blog post is in answer to comments that I've read here as well as other blogs. It's easy to sit back and laugh, so I do.
Monday, December 27, 2010
resolute these nuts
I've never made new year's resolutions. I don't really believe in them. They always seem like they were made up in a moment of clarity that happens to be surrounded by a lot of getting and then being way too drunk because you were at a NYE party, and it's what you're supposed to do.
At the same time I want my life to be different, and a lot of this wanting is coming to a bit of a head right about now. I've been thinking and thinking, and I think I've come up with some ideas.
The only solution that I have is to give myself this arbitrary date at which point I want to begin putting my bad behavior to an end. And it's not that I'm so bad of a person or that my behavior is so bad, but it's not even a little bit helpful, and I want my life to be different.
What I've come up with, in my head, is this idea of new. I've done things the old way for a long time, and I'm still here, broke and alone and unhappy. The old ways aren't working, so I need to try some new ways.
I'm not sure the shape this will take, but I'm setting a deadline, and after that I really have to figure out what changes are going to get me to a point. I need now to figure that point out. I need now to set some goals. I've got twinnyleven to figure my ass out, and then I've got twinnytwelve to make a point of it.
How will I start? Putting the boys in school is a big start, both for them and for me. I'm going to worry more about their education, and I need to be involved in their school/schooling. Another step that should be easy and maybe even fun is to begin to put more concern into both my diet as well as the boys'. We don't eat very well, and I could easily solve that problem. Beginning work in those areas will help me to want to work harder to better myself.
How happy am I in the world of food as I've known it? What would I rather do? I've been in food service seemingly as long as I can remember. It's what I do. It's how I earn my dough.
How can I find a way to make my life better in solely monetary terms? I hate to think of it that way. There's a stink of "selling out" that punk me finds repulsive, but punk me barely pays the bills and seldom on time.
I need to remember throughout the year that "I'm too old for this shit." And I need to devote my efforts to better things, better places, better meals, better friends. And it has to begin with me. I have to take that first step and then the second and on and on.
Repeating past mistakes will never yield new successes.
At the same time I want my life to be different, and a lot of this wanting is coming to a bit of a head right about now. I've been thinking and thinking, and I think I've come up with some ideas.
The only solution that I have is to give myself this arbitrary date at which point I want to begin putting my bad behavior to an end. And it's not that I'm so bad of a person or that my behavior is so bad, but it's not even a little bit helpful, and I want my life to be different.
What I've come up with, in my head, is this idea of new. I've done things the old way for a long time, and I'm still here, broke and alone and unhappy. The old ways aren't working, so I need to try some new ways.
I'm not sure the shape this will take, but I'm setting a deadline, and after that I really have to figure out what changes are going to get me to a point. I need now to figure that point out. I need now to set some goals. I've got twinnyleven to figure my ass out, and then I've got twinnytwelve to make a point of it.
How will I start? Putting the boys in school is a big start, both for them and for me. I'm going to worry more about their education, and I need to be involved in their school/schooling. Another step that should be easy and maybe even fun is to begin to put more concern into both my diet as well as the boys'. We don't eat very well, and I could easily solve that problem. Beginning work in those areas will help me to want to work harder to better myself.
How happy am I in the world of food as I've known it? What would I rather do? I've been in food service seemingly as long as I can remember. It's what I do. It's how I earn my dough.
How can I find a way to make my life better in solely monetary terms? I hate to think of it that way. There's a stink of "selling out" that punk me finds repulsive, but punk me barely pays the bills and seldom on time.
I need to remember throughout the year that "I'm too old for this shit." And I need to devote my efforts to better things, better places, better meals, better friends. And it has to begin with me. I have to take that first step and then the second and on and on.
Repeating past mistakes will never yield new successes.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
no, seriously
For full context go HERE and watch the video of Alex Nicholson (homosexual) who was booted from the military because of being homosexual and DADT versus Peter Sprigg, professional sayer of lies about homosexuals. It's some CNN show where the host doesn't take sides but instead introduces some sort of information and follows with a question. Hat tip for this nugget to Towleroad.
Peter Sprigg says the most outrageous things about homosexuals, and Alex Nicholson answers his questions with reasoned responses. They aren't asked the same questions, and it's arugable that the CNN guy chose questions for Peter Sprigg to point out the folly of his ways, but then he mostly sits back and lets the loony go.
When I first watched the clip I found myself getting irritated as Peter Sprigg was allowed to talk uncontested. Thinking about it now I wonder if that wasn't part of the plan from the beginning. The only way to fight these people is to let the world know exactly what it is they are suggesting that America do to its sons and daughters.
Also when first watching the clip I found myself doing this thing that I sometimes do that sometimes annoys the people around me. I correct people's language. I don't just do it about homosexual sometimes. But I do because I do think it's helpful overall to worry about our words. I had a discussion recently with a coworker in which he mentioned that he'd stopped using gay as a pejorative because of me calling him on it. I know other people who at least don't do it around me anymore, and I hope they've stopped doing so in general.
There needs to be that voice, saying things like, "Is the knife really gay or is it that you need to sharpen it so that it works right? I don't think knives have the ability to be gay or not gay." fwiw, I work in a kitchen, so knives are a huge part of my day.
When I hear "same sex marriage" I want to just loudly enough say, "marriage equality." When Peter Sprigg tries to say "sexual assault, molestation," I just want to ask for proof and for stats for both same gender and opposite gender sexual assaults. When I hear "preference" I say "orientation." Sometimes it's almost involuntary, but I'm also kind of an ass apparently.
And whenever Peter Sprigg opens his lying mouth at a camera that is in the on position there needs to be the counter point. There needs to be someone else on camera saying to him, "No, seriously. How does the presence of out homos make it more likely that you will lose a leg in combat?" at which point I'd follow up with, "and does my presence here today next to you increase the odds that you will lose at leg during this interview?" and that would possibly end my career as the voice.
And you know, it's not that I really want to control people's language. What I really want is for us all to think about our words. Peter Sprigg flat out lies. He makes words do bad things, and he never really comes out and says what he means. He hits around the whole more than a suck up playing golf with the boss. fwiw, the "w" in "whole" is accidental. I mean to put "hole" but then I liked the way it sorta worked. Let's pretend I did it on purpose.
p.s., homosexuals on CNN should never say, "That's a good question," when in fact it really isn't that good a question.
Peter Sprigg says the most outrageous things about homosexuals, and Alex Nicholson answers his questions with reasoned responses. They aren't asked the same questions, and it's arugable that the CNN guy chose questions for Peter Sprigg to point out the folly of his ways, but then he mostly sits back and lets the loony go.
When I first watched the clip I found myself getting irritated as Peter Sprigg was allowed to talk uncontested. Thinking about it now I wonder if that wasn't part of the plan from the beginning. The only way to fight these people is to let the world know exactly what it is they are suggesting that America do to its sons and daughters.
Also when first watching the clip I found myself doing this thing that I sometimes do that sometimes annoys the people around me. I correct people's language. I don't just do it about homosexual sometimes. But I do because I do think it's helpful overall to worry about our words. I had a discussion recently with a coworker in which he mentioned that he'd stopped using gay as a pejorative because of me calling him on it. I know other people who at least don't do it around me anymore, and I hope they've stopped doing so in general.
There needs to be that voice, saying things like, "Is the knife really gay or is it that you need to sharpen it so that it works right? I don't think knives have the ability to be gay or not gay." fwiw, I work in a kitchen, so knives are a huge part of my day.
When I hear "same sex marriage" I want to just loudly enough say, "marriage equality." When Peter Sprigg tries to say "sexual assault, molestation," I just want to ask for proof and for stats for both same gender and opposite gender sexual assaults. When I hear "preference" I say "orientation." Sometimes it's almost involuntary, but I'm also kind of an ass apparently.
And whenever Peter Sprigg opens his lying mouth at a camera that is in the on position there needs to be the counter point. There needs to be someone else on camera saying to him, "No, seriously. How does the presence of out homos make it more likely that you will lose a leg in combat?" at which point I'd follow up with, "and does my presence here today next to you increase the odds that you will lose at leg during this interview?" and that would possibly end my career as the voice.
And you know, it's not that I really want to control people's language. What I really want is for us all to think about our words. Peter Sprigg flat out lies. He makes words do bad things, and he never really comes out and says what he means. He hits around the whole more than a suck up playing golf with the boss. fwiw, the "w" in "whole" is accidental. I mean to put "hole" but then I liked the way it sorta worked. Let's pretend I did it on purpose.
p.s., homosexuals on CNN should never say, "That's a good question," when in fact it really isn't that good a question.
Friday, December 10, 2010
now where were we?
This post is alternately title, Bruce Springsteen's voice kinda makes me wanna take my clothes off.
The local college rock station has been playing a really cool song lately, one I hear and think to myself, Is that Bruce Springsteen?
I used to like him, and I think I do again. I should rephrase that, but rather I'll explain. After breaking away from the fundamentalism with the help of a friend I found myself in a place I didn't then recognize, but I was trying to earn some sort of something with this new friend, or maybe I was trying to find a way to fit in. I gave up a lot of what I'd been into in order to be the punk I thought I was supposed to be, and I'd just gotten through giving up a lot in terms of beliefs and related whatnot.
So I started not liking things I perceived were perceived as being uncool by my new friend/s. I wasn't then trying to find myself as much as I should have been, but that doesn't really matter. I gave up a lot of music, some of which has remained gave up.
Bruce Springsteen may be back, and here's why.
This song is just loads of awesome. I'd been hearing the song every now and again. I usually listen to the local college radio station at work, but the KM hates hip hop, and the local college radio station sprinkles it in liberally during the day. I personally love the station even when I hate the song they're currently playing, but I digress.
Of course hearing Springsteen makes me think of older Springsteen. Yes, that first song is older, but because it's new to me it's essentially new. It's probably at least newish to you as well, so get off me.
I remember the song that should have been a bit of a warning, but I didn't see it then. Listening now and remembering then, if I'd had even a slight clue about myself as a person this song really could have been yet another early clue about my actuality, aka that whole gay thing. It was then one of my favorites, but listening to that voice now I think I just didn't realize then that I wanted him singing it to me rather than me projecting those ideas outward. Or perhaps my young mind just hadn't discovered the same sex just yet.
And here that one is. fwiw, I include this particular video version because of the randomly gay picture that essentially is the video.
The local college rock station has been playing a really cool song lately, one I hear and think to myself, Is that Bruce Springsteen?
I used to like him, and I think I do again. I should rephrase that, but rather I'll explain. After breaking away from the fundamentalism with the help of a friend I found myself in a place I didn't then recognize, but I was trying to earn some sort of something with this new friend, or maybe I was trying to find a way to fit in. I gave up a lot of what I'd been into in order to be the punk I thought I was supposed to be, and I'd just gotten through giving up a lot in terms of beliefs and related whatnot.
So I started not liking things I perceived were perceived as being uncool by my new friend/s. I wasn't then trying to find myself as much as I should have been, but that doesn't really matter. I gave up a lot of music, some of which has remained gave up.
Bruce Springsteen may be back, and here's why.
This song is just loads of awesome. I'd been hearing the song every now and again. I usually listen to the local college radio station at work, but the KM hates hip hop, and the local college radio station sprinkles it in liberally during the day. I personally love the station even when I hate the song they're currently playing, but I digress.
Of course hearing Springsteen makes me think of older Springsteen. Yes, that first song is older, but because it's new to me it's essentially new. It's probably at least newish to you as well, so get off me.
I remember the song that should have been a bit of a warning, but I didn't see it then. Listening now and remembering then, if I'd had even a slight clue about myself as a person this song really could have been yet another early clue about my actuality, aka that whole gay thing. It was then one of my favorites, but listening to that voice now I think I just didn't realize then that I wanted him singing it to me rather than me projecting those ideas outward. Or perhaps my young mind just hadn't discovered the same sex just yet.
And here that one is. fwiw, I include this particular video version because of the randomly gay picture that essentially is the video.
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
it's so like the thing I'm not referencing more than now
On the middle finger of my right hand is the end of a blister. Sometime tomorrow it's likely to become the shiny spot of new skin that was fairly recently under the blister.
I've made hollandaise sauce before, but I haven't made it often, and when I did before I just stood and beat while someone else told me what I was supposed to be doing. It just never happened to become my job, and because I likely heard often enough how hard it was to make I never bothered to try.
But finally I've made it once or twice, and I've realized that it really isn't that hard, and I've now gone on the internets and googled and read about it here and there. I've checked Escoffier, and when I have time on my day off this week I'll check Julia and James.
It is time consuming, and I suppose if you don't know how to lift your bowl off the heat once in a while, or if you can't tell when something becomes a different color and consistency, well, sure it's scaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrry!
BOO!
No really, it's tiresome at it's worst. I didn't even notice the blister till after work. I forgot that I needed to head home sooner than later and sat down at the bar for a quick gin and tonic. I didn't know I was sitting down for a gin and tonic till I sat down and was reminded that we run decent liquor specials for brunch, so I opted in.
I did soon go home, but that isn't really a story other than the part about going home. I needed to and was reminded via a text, so I then did.
It was while I was enjoying the gin and tonic that I saw the blister and was stuck on it for a moment. I had to think how I'd gotten it. I knew it wasn't a burn. It was big enough to remember if it had been a burn. And as I thought I remembered the hollandaise and the whisk. While beating the yolks find that I switch back and forth between gripping the handle fully with my hand and holding it more like writing with a pencil. It's what the hand does I suppose. The holding it like a pencil part gave me a blister on the second finger of my right hand.
Actually, this isn't really much of a story either.
Finally, to end this not really much of a story on a whole other but still hollandaise related note. Nearly anything is better dipped in hollandaise. Roasted potatoes are of course lovely. The fatty end of a strip of bacon is marvelous. Perhaps the most decadent of all and surely one of the most delightful is the simple potato chip. But these are only ideas. There's a world of food waiting to be dipped into hollandaise, for hollandaise is the new ranch . . . up to a point.
p.s. ranch is still awesome
p.p.s ranch and hollandaise are probably equally awesome
p.p.p.s maybe I should make up my own super awesome ranch recipe
p.p.p.p.s. damn, now I want some wings
I've made hollandaise sauce before, but I haven't made it often, and when I did before I just stood and beat while someone else told me what I was supposed to be doing. It just never happened to become my job, and because I likely heard often enough how hard it was to make I never bothered to try.
But finally I've made it once or twice, and I've realized that it really isn't that hard, and I've now gone on the internets and googled and read about it here and there. I've checked Escoffier, and when I have time on my day off this week I'll check Julia and James.
It is time consuming, and I suppose if you don't know how to lift your bowl off the heat once in a while, or if you can't tell when something becomes a different color and consistency, well, sure it's scaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrry!
BOO!
No really, it's tiresome at it's worst. I didn't even notice the blister till after work. I forgot that I needed to head home sooner than later and sat down at the bar for a quick gin and tonic. I didn't know I was sitting down for a gin and tonic till I sat down and was reminded that we run decent liquor specials for brunch, so I opted in.
I did soon go home, but that isn't really a story other than the part about going home. I needed to and was reminded via a text, so I then did.
It was while I was enjoying the gin and tonic that I saw the blister and was stuck on it for a moment. I had to think how I'd gotten it. I knew it wasn't a burn. It was big enough to remember if it had been a burn. And as I thought I remembered the hollandaise and the whisk. While beating the yolks find that I switch back and forth between gripping the handle fully with my hand and holding it more like writing with a pencil. It's what the hand does I suppose. The holding it like a pencil part gave me a blister on the second finger of my right hand.
Actually, this isn't really much of a story either.
Finally, to end this not really much of a story on a whole other but still hollandaise related note. Nearly anything is better dipped in hollandaise. Roasted potatoes are of course lovely. The fatty end of a strip of bacon is marvelous. Perhaps the most decadent of all and surely one of the most delightful is the simple potato chip. But these are only ideas. There's a world of food waiting to be dipped into hollandaise, for hollandaise is the new ranch . . . up to a point.
p.s. ranch is still awesome
p.p.s ranch and hollandaise are probably equally awesome
p.p.p.s maybe I should make up my own super awesome ranch recipe
p.p.p.p.s. damn, now I want some wings
Thursday, November 04, 2010
circles, always damn circles
How do you go about doing everything differently? How do you look deep into yourself and accept finally that you are more often than not the reason you are not making any progress anywhere at all?
How do you decide what is an excuse and what is a reasonable concern?
How do you stop being that scared and confused little boy that you've always been in spite of all the shit you talked then and still talk now?
Sometimes I feel like I'm missing something. Maybe it's a clue as to how to move to the next part, or maybe it's a part I need to figure out how to fix or replace.
I want to do all of the above, but it feels like every time I step outside I get hit by something, so I've begun to go outside a lot less, and being a nervous recluse doesn't seem to help me do much of anything.
There's more, something about bursting out, being reborn as a phoenix or something, but I just stared into space and nearly dozed off a moment ago, and I really do need to get to bed. I've got a world of making sense of my world to do.
How do you decide what is an excuse and what is a reasonable concern?
How do you stop being that scared and confused little boy that you've always been in spite of all the shit you talked then and still talk now?
Sometimes I feel like I'm missing something. Maybe it's a clue as to how to move to the next part, or maybe it's a part I need to figure out how to fix or replace.
I want to do all of the above, but it feels like every time I step outside I get hit by something, so I've begun to go outside a lot less, and being a nervous recluse doesn't seem to help me do much of anything.
There's more, something about bursting out, being reborn as a phoenix or something, but I just stared into space and nearly dozed off a moment ago, and I really do need to get to bed. I've got a world of making sense of my world to do.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, October 11, 2010
totally could if
I don't really hate straight people. I don't know what you may have heard, but it's not hate. Sure, I think you're all a bunch of filthy, craven animals, but I don't hate you.
Okay, sometimes I do get a little irritated with you. You have no idea how it looks to watch you do your little courtship dances and fumble around and act like idiots.
I could have your girl in seconds flat by telling her all the things I wish someone would tell me, and I can understand her in a sense that you may never figure out. But as pretty as she is she has those same icky, squiggly bits that all girls have, and she's probably not too many places removed from the big sister I never had once we get a couple of beers in us.
Honestly I'm just in a place. I'm in the hole where I see a lifetime of loneliness, unwanted and unnoticed in the sea of much younger and ache free fodder.
I wish I had a dollar for every time the phrase, "I'm not really looking for a relationship," was spoken at the local gay bars. I'd open my own gay bar with that kind of money, and I'd fill that lonely pit of despair I call my heart with all the pretty boys wanting free and/or discounted drinks.
I'd need a good bit more than a dollar for every time that line has been directed at me to open that same gay bar, but I'd probably ruin it by trying to do something. And it's not like I haven't been hit on, just so you know, and often without the desire for more than an evening's encounter.
Which is not to say I always do.
And I really am just in a place. I'm seeing all the horses of some sort of mini apocalypse bearing down on me, and I may not be able to outrun them this time. They seem bigger this time, like the draft horses of the apocalypse freed of their yokes and heavy burdens. And we can further mix metaphors into a stew of a rut of unsightly proportions.
I looked into a mirror that reflects my life and see that all along I've been doing almost everything completely wrong, and I'm going to have change almost entirely if I'm going to insist on wearing that one particular piece. And that one piece sort of makes the whole outfit, so I really do kind of need that particular one.
And just so you know, I didn't really mean that part about your girl. I'm just kinda in a place, and I spoke without really thinking.
Okay, sometimes I do get a little irritated with you. You have no idea how it looks to watch you do your little courtship dances and fumble around and act like idiots.
I could have your girl in seconds flat by telling her all the things I wish someone would tell me, and I can understand her in a sense that you may never figure out. But as pretty as she is she has those same icky, squiggly bits that all girls have, and she's probably not too many places removed from the big sister I never had once we get a couple of beers in us.
Honestly I'm just in a place. I'm in the hole where I see a lifetime of loneliness, unwanted and unnoticed in the sea of much younger and ache free fodder.
I wish I had a dollar for every time the phrase, "I'm not really looking for a relationship," was spoken at the local gay bars. I'd open my own gay bar with that kind of money, and I'd fill that lonely pit of despair I call my heart with all the pretty boys wanting free and/or discounted drinks.
I'd need a good bit more than a dollar for every time that line has been directed at me to open that same gay bar, but I'd probably ruin it by trying to do something. And it's not like I haven't been hit on, just so you know, and often without the desire for more than an evening's encounter.
Which is not to say I always do.
And I really am just in a place. I'm seeing all the horses of some sort of mini apocalypse bearing down on me, and I may not be able to outrun them this time. They seem bigger this time, like the draft horses of the apocalypse freed of their yokes and heavy burdens. And we can further mix metaphors into a stew of a rut of unsightly proportions.
I looked into a mirror that reflects my life and see that all along I've been doing almost everything completely wrong, and I'm going to have change almost entirely if I'm going to insist on wearing that one particular piece. And that one piece sort of makes the whole outfit, so I really do kind of need that particular one.
And just so you know, I didn't really mean that part about your girl. I'm just kinda in a place, and I spoke without really thinking.
Thursday, October 07, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, October 03, 2010
in which I say poll several times
My main email account has been at Yahoo for years. My very first one ever was either Prodigy or Juno. There was the MSN one for a while, and I may still have an active email account with AOL that I never used other than for the AIM. I do have a gmail account, but I really only use it because I like it better for sending pictures from my phone.
None of that's really the point other than the Yahoo part which is the email address I use for my daily electronic correspondence, and because I have then to visit Yahoo I sometimes catch myself having to read one of the stories featured on the front page.
Today's story was about a poll Yahoo was taking that showed Americans are equally split in their opinions as to whether or not I should be allowed to marry a man, though thankfully they didn't have a poll on how long it would take me to meet one worth marrying. That would have been depressing.
Though the story itself isn't depressing, and the poll numbers do basically tell us what we likely know, it's not disheartening to read that we get closer to equality over time. Toward the end of the article it even mentions the age gap in difference of opinion in older versus younger generations, and that's a testament to how far we have come in that so many people are coming out younger, and their straight friends remain friends and eventually become allies.
But the article does leave me a little underwhelmed.
I may have mentioned that I don't really like the term "gay marriage." So it should be no surprise that the use of that term throughout the article was irritating. Then the third paragraph begins with the line, The battle for what pro gay-marriage activists call "marriage equality" . . . And yes, they do use scare quotes around what the writer must assume is not a real thing, and they're letting us know that it's the activists, the loud ones that get in your face that want to use this term.
They mention DADT and almost mention Margaret Witt, a flight nurse in the Air Force who was discharged/fired because of DADT. While the article is correct in suggesting that the discharge was unconstitutional, and they mention that a judge has ruled that she should be reinstated because of that, but I think it bears repeating that the judge ruled that Margaret Witt should be given her job back because of constitution issues as well as because her discharge hurt unit morale as well as their ability to function properly.
Further into the article about their poll they mention reader comments showing the divide between how people view marriage equality. In an effort, one assume, to be balanced they include a comment from an anti who points out that the world will be destroyed because all the families will stop being families. I really feel that, at this point in the conversation, when all you can offer is a soundbite then maybe your voice is no longer valid, so I can't believe this sort of shit is still included in the story. It's an argument that's easily disproven as several countries around the world allow openly gay people to serve in the military and don't tell you who you can marry, and the world seems to be spinning and orbiting as much as ever.
They end somewhere around "marriage is a religious ceremony" which is the antis trying to make us believe that churches will have to marry gays, another thing that they say that just isn't true, but the article doesn't seem to point out that churches already have the ability to pick and choose who they will or won't marry.
It just seems lazy to me I guess. Maybe I expect more than just a telling of the story, but I have to remember most of my gay news comes from actual gay people writing about them in blogs devoted to gay news and opinion. Not only do I get my gay news quicker, but I get it picked apart by gay people. For this same reason maybe I expect a little activism when I read a story like this, and perhaps I shouldn't or should consider the source before reading to save myself the stress.
The thing is that I would like for people to write stories that involve calling people out when they say things that are untrue or to at least do some research and find out if what they are saying is either a misunderstanding or a parroting of that guy on the radio or just a blatant lie. And maybe if the news would start to treat gay people as people instead of always having to be gay as well as nearly people we could move this damn bus even quicker.
None of that's really the point other than the Yahoo part which is the email address I use for my daily electronic correspondence, and because I have then to visit Yahoo I sometimes catch myself having to read one of the stories featured on the front page.
Today's story was about a poll Yahoo was taking that showed Americans are equally split in their opinions as to whether or not I should be allowed to marry a man, though thankfully they didn't have a poll on how long it would take me to meet one worth marrying. That would have been depressing.
Though the story itself isn't depressing, and the poll numbers do basically tell us what we likely know, it's not disheartening to read that we get closer to equality over time. Toward the end of the article it even mentions the age gap in difference of opinion in older versus younger generations, and that's a testament to how far we have come in that so many people are coming out younger, and their straight friends remain friends and eventually become allies.
But the article does leave me a little underwhelmed.
I may have mentioned that I don't really like the term "gay marriage." So it should be no surprise that the use of that term throughout the article was irritating. Then the third paragraph begins with the line, The battle for what pro gay-marriage activists call "marriage equality" . . . And yes, they do use scare quotes around what the writer must assume is not a real thing, and they're letting us know that it's the activists, the loud ones that get in your face that want to use this term.
They mention DADT and almost mention Margaret Witt, a flight nurse in the Air Force who was discharged/fired because of DADT. While the article is correct in suggesting that the discharge was unconstitutional, and they mention that a judge has ruled that she should be reinstated because of that, but I think it bears repeating that the judge ruled that Margaret Witt should be given her job back because of constitution issues as well as because her discharge hurt unit morale as well as their ability to function properly.
Further into the article about their poll they mention reader comments showing the divide between how people view marriage equality. In an effort, one assume, to be balanced they include a comment from an anti who points out that the world will be destroyed because all the families will stop being families. I really feel that, at this point in the conversation, when all you can offer is a soundbite then maybe your voice is no longer valid, so I can't believe this sort of shit is still included in the story. It's an argument that's easily disproven as several countries around the world allow openly gay people to serve in the military and don't tell you who you can marry, and the world seems to be spinning and orbiting as much as ever.
They end somewhere around "marriage is a religious ceremony" which is the antis trying to make us believe that churches will have to marry gays, another thing that they say that just isn't true, but the article doesn't seem to point out that churches already have the ability to pick and choose who they will or won't marry.
It just seems lazy to me I guess. Maybe I expect more than just a telling of the story, but I have to remember most of my gay news comes from actual gay people writing about them in blogs devoted to gay news and opinion. Not only do I get my gay news quicker, but I get it picked apart by gay people. For this same reason maybe I expect a little activism when I read a story like this, and perhaps I shouldn't or should consider the source before reading to save myself the stress.
The thing is that I would like for people to write stories that involve calling people out when they say things that are untrue or to at least do some research and find out if what they are saying is either a misunderstanding or a parroting of that guy on the radio or just a blatant lie. And maybe if the news would start to treat gay people as people instead of always having to be gay as well as nearly people we could move this damn bus even quicker.
Friday, October 01, 2010
maybe ah orta
Why can't I stop sitting here worrying about her and instead sit here and worry about myself? Is it because even when I do worry about myself I tend to stop at worry?
I could be doing something, but I opt for not doing something. I've been doing the same thing for so long that I kinda just don't know how to do that while adding other stuff. I'm a little scared to do something, and that's one of those things I don't talk about.
It would scare you to hear a list of things that scare me. I absolutely hate having to call people on the phone. I'm so cool with texting because of that, but there are times you just have to call. There are certain calls I can make, like the produce company when I call in an order at work. But soccer families even considering how much I can enjoy coaching soccer? yeah, that takes motivation.
On some level I fear being alone, but more than that I fear being in the wrong relationship. Even the greatest ever heterosexual marriage is wrong if one of you is not in fact heterosexual. And I know how easily I can get sucked into a not good relationship with a guy, and I think there are a lot of factors I can look at to make sense of why gay people rush into things sometimes instead of maybe waiting to see of the next train is less full, or something.
Trying to figure out what you're supposed to do now that that whole cooking thing is so quickly losing its luster is a whole other can of brown, wiggly things. And that means that I have to stop not doing something and do the opposite instead.
And really, I do nearly love my job. So many of the things I've always loved are still lovable, but I'm realizing two things. I really am not meant to be a career cook, and I'm really getting too old for the job. Read Bourdain. I'm nearly forty, and I'm roughly fifteen years older than the average for kitchen people there. There's a server who is less than two full years younger than me, then there are the owner who have at least twenty on me, but that's no consolation.
Maybe it's time to write a book. If I do it right there's years worth of drinking money in it.
I could be doing something, but I opt for not doing something. I've been doing the same thing for so long that I kinda just don't know how to do that while adding other stuff. I'm a little scared to do something, and that's one of those things I don't talk about.
It would scare you to hear a list of things that scare me. I absolutely hate having to call people on the phone. I'm so cool with texting because of that, but there are times you just have to call. There are certain calls I can make, like the produce company when I call in an order at work. But soccer families even considering how much I can enjoy coaching soccer? yeah, that takes motivation.
On some level I fear being alone, but more than that I fear being in the wrong relationship. Even the greatest ever heterosexual marriage is wrong if one of you is not in fact heterosexual. And I know how easily I can get sucked into a not good relationship with a guy, and I think there are a lot of factors I can look at to make sense of why gay people rush into things sometimes instead of maybe waiting to see of the next train is less full, or something.
Trying to figure out what you're supposed to do now that that whole cooking thing is so quickly losing its luster is a whole other can of brown, wiggly things. And that means that I have to stop not doing something and do the opposite instead.
And really, I do nearly love my job. So many of the things I've always loved are still lovable, but I'm realizing two things. I really am not meant to be a career cook, and I'm really getting too old for the job. Read Bourdain. I'm nearly forty, and I'm roughly fifteen years older than the average for kitchen people there. There's a server who is less than two full years younger than me, then there are the owner who have at least twenty on me, but that's no consolation.
Maybe it's time to write a book. If I do it right there's years worth of drinking money in it.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
this is why
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
Thursday, August 12, 2010
senseless dadt bullshit
Lt. Col. Victor Fehrenbach should be retiring from the US Air Force in just over a year. Instead, chances are that he'll soon be fired from the job he's apparently done well.
Why would anyone want to fire a soldier with this much experience which includes flying ninety missions in three different wars? You can read about his story at military.com or theadvocate.com.
In the middle of so much strife and war that our country finds itself in, we are still kicking out good soldiers merely for being gay.
It's stupid and sad, and it's a waste. Don't Ask Don't Tell is one of the worst and most shameful atrocities ever forced on the American people and is responsible for too many good soldiers being removed from their jobs.
Why would anyone want to fire a soldier with this much experience which includes flying ninety missions in three different wars? You can read about his story at military.com or theadvocate.com.
In the middle of so much strife and war that our country finds itself in, we are still kicking out good soldiers merely for being gay.
It's stupid and sad, and it's a waste. Don't Ask Don't Tell is one of the worst and most shameful atrocities ever forced on the American people and is responsible for too many good soldiers being removed from their jobs.
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