Learning to Love Again

Well, I feel like this is something of a streak, here... two posts in six months :) This post is gonna be a three part novel.

Part 1: Just a follow-up on the last guy.

Total cluster f*ck. I don't like to use that word, but there is no other phrase to describe it. In case you're wondering, putting together two guys with commitment issues is a terrible idea. I'd get serious, and he'd pull away... then he'd get serious, and I'd pull away. Finally walked away from that. I think some people are better off as friends. As handsome as the guy is, that was arguably the most dysfunctional thing I've ever experienced.

Part 2: Speaking of commitment issues...

It turns out that I have commitment issues. Depending on how you look at this last "relationship," I've either bolted on every single guy in my life, or I've bolted on all but one. I don't want this to be the focus of my post, but it was the impetus (sadly, as you'll see there's more in life to talk about).

I just had a date today with this guy... a year older than me, attractive enough, taller than me (that's hard to come by), driven, successful (doing residency program right now), considerate, attentive... seems way into me. And as I'm dropping him off, I've got this neon "RUN!" sign flashing in my head. Met up with college track kid a few times - Run! Pilot - Run! Research guy - Run! Construction guy - Run! Sports writer, announcer, rugby player, choir teacher, lawyer - Run!

Every time. And it kills me. It kills me because these seem like legitimately good guys. To be honest, the guy I was complaining about in my last post? I know, deep down, that I would've bolted if he had pushed for things to be more serious.

But I got to thinking about it harder today after dropping off this perfectly nice guy. He's just looking for someone to connect with... someone he can take care of, and who can take care of him. There's nothing wrong with that - it sounds perfect to me... in theory... so why do I bolt every time someone gets close? Why do I close off?

On one hand, I think I'm scared. Honestly, on some level, I think I truly believe that all guys will eventually hurt me. And I can trace that idea back to its roots, but it doesn't help much. On the other hand, I feel like these guys are out of my league - I wonder why they don't try for someone better? But on the third hand (lots of radiation where I come from), I don't necessarily know that I'm interested in them. I think I push myself into something because I should be interested in the guy... not necessarily because I am interested. I'm at a loss here. And I'm tired of hurting people. I'm thinking I should jump out of the pool for a while.

Part 3: I came out.

I'm ashamed that this wasn't my impetus. I told my mom and brother that I'm gay. I told my brother first to use him as a litmus paper of sorts... I figured if he fell out of his chair, I'd know to be a little more delicate with others, since I'm not exactly known for delicacy with my family. Then, I told my mom. She's been trying to push me for a while into going back to church. I didn't want to, and she was doing dumb stuff like giving the missionaries my new address to visit me so that everyone else in the damn ward knows where I live now, too.

But mostly, I didn't like feeling like I was withholding a part of myself... I didn't feel like I was being honest, and that made my relationships feel disingenuous. And then I read this quote on my Bloomberg one morning--it always has a quote of the day when you log in. I usually find that stuff to be hokey. But this one was by Andre Gide (who knows who that is?):

It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.

Genius, right? And it made me realize that I valued sincere relationships to the extent that I was willing to disclose that part of my life and risk ruining my "relationships" with people. So I called my mom... I got far enough into the conversation as, "Give me a minute to get everything out and explain it. Mom, I'm sorry... I'm gay-"

She promptly interrupted me. "What? What are you sorry for? You have nothing to be sorry for. Honey, how long have you known? I feel so bad that you've been carrying this all by yourself for so long..."

I can think of five times that I've cried in the past five years. I just never do it. I don't get emotional. But this was one of those times. Hearing her say that made me break down. I'm not sure I've ever cried that hard before. We hashed it out a little more later when I was up to visit. I told her I wasn't angry at God or the Church, that I didn't feel abandoned or alone. She confessed that she struggled with feeling angry at God after I had told her - she said she was angry because she felt like I've had to fight so much in my life that she thought I didn't deserve to have this placed on me, too.

I've known for so long, and I've tried so hard to make it go away. I felt ashamed, felt like I just needed to be more faithful... and I was convinced it would do irreparable damage to my mom if she ever found out. Until that day, I've never been completely honest with someone I love. I turned being gay into a monster. It lurked behind every interaction, it isolated and consumed me. 

But to hear her react like that... It floored me. I was letting her down! She didn't miss a beat. 

I feel underserving of having people that good in my life. I'm skeptical of unconditional love- I was skeptical of unconditional love... I took my deep, dark, evil secret and drug it out into the light of day to face judgment... but she never took her eyes off me. I'm so thankful. I've told her over and over how thankful I am. For the first time in my life, I felt ok--truly ok--with all of me.

I haven't told my dad and stepmom yet, but I'm not so concerned about that. One of my best friends from school invited me out for his sealing, so I told him, too. His response? "I kinda suspected for a while, but I didn't think it was my place to say. I love you, and you'll always be one of my best friends." I ended up coming for the reception.

I know some people will have problems with it. But the people I love? It turns out they didn't love me because they thought I was straight. It turns out I should've given them more credit. And me? When I look at myself in the mirror, I don't see a guy holding pieces together and trying to save face.

I see me.

Save the World

I can't believe this blog is still in existence...

I'm not sure where to start or what to say. To be honest, I've logged on here with a purpose, and that purpose isn't to shoot the breeze.

La Senda Ardua - didn't realize that was going to be the understatement of my life. It's been two years, and as I've skimmed through some of the posts I last wrote on this blog, I've taken a little comfort in knowing that my life has always been dysfunctional.

But the purpose. And then, maybe, we'll get to shooting some shit, OK?

We'll call him T. He's not out (like me... not that I really care... although it is about time, though I won't address it right now, as we're wayyyy too early in the story for that kinda digression), which is fine. Older than me. Handsome, chiseled, muscular, blue eyes, kinda rugged/outdoorsy... this guy is nearly the absolute most deadly combination of physical characteristics I could ask for in a guy.

But that part I can handle. I can keep my heart locked up. Insert weak moment, sweet guy, defenses down. The guy treated me like the center of his universe... like I was the most important thing in his life at any given time. I was melted.

THEN there was this tire-screeching, no-signal-U-turn, the-house-suddenly-lost-power kinda change that left me flat on my ass. I had fallen for a guy who was gone and replaced by a distant, fickle impostor. The worst thing is that you can't just flip a switch once you fall like that... I was left feeling like I was fighting a losing battle, salvaging something that only I was interested in.

It made me think back on the time I spent with the original THE guy... almost three years ago in March was the first time we met. Oddly enough, our interaction was almost the same, same outcome, same broken heart, same resolution that I would lock my heart away forever.

Same problem... but different guys... what's the common denominator? Oh yeah- me. What gets me? The thing is, I try to imagine a world in which things were different, in which the guy, or T (doesn't really matter) was actually into me still- was there and interested and still treated me like the center of their world. To be honest, I'm not sure how long I'd stay interested for? I mean, maybe it was just a matter of time before I arrived at the same conclusion? And maybe that's just me being pessimistic. But the thing is, I'm plagued by this intense desire to please the people around me... blaming my upbringing on that one... and so maybe the issue here is not so much that I was in love with these guys, but that I couldn't stand the feeling of not being good enough for them... of not doing or saying the right things to make them stick around...

So the problem (for simplicity's sake, really) rests on me, rests on my inability to be independently happy with who I am. Granted, it's not like I'm wandering around, trying to make random people happy... but there are people, on occasion, who manage to pry their way into my feelings, and then, suddenly, what they think of me becomes painfully intertwined with what I think of me...

But people are fickle (I don't exclude myself from this), and, on top of that, I have a hard time trusting guys in the first place, which I think sets myself up for some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy- going into these situations with the foundational belief that this is temporary, that it's only a matter of time before something better comes along for them.

So, as I was laying on my yoga mat in my loft and trying to avoid the inevitable, these thoughts were fighting for air time... and a conversation ensued:

Gotta work out.

Why?

Get back in better shape. At the very least, maybe T will see you and feel like a dumbass for letting you go.

What's going to be good enough shape?

Summer before senior year... when THE guy was still around. You were in good enough shape.

What did I look like? What did he look like?

Hooold up... on a completely skin-deep comparison, you were wayyy better looking than he was.

Then why didn't I feel like it?

No answer. Dammit. I kept thinking. Came up with an answer. Didn't like it. And I didn't know where to go to sort things out... for catharsis... then, I remembered this blog. Please don't think that I'm a complete douche for what I'm about to say - hopefully it's taken in the spirit I've written it.

I was in really good shape back then- got hit on a surprising amount by strangers (always girls, of course... was never that lucky), had a good job, did well in school, worked hard to make sure I had a decent future. I was a pretty damn good catch, yet I never felt like it with this guy... I spent most of my time wondering how I got so lucky as to snag him... what he could possibly be seeing in me. Why didn't I see that stuff in myself? Why do I have such a hard time seeing it now?

At the end of the day, I know I'm doomed to a repeat of this current situation, these terrible feelings if I can't find a way to love myself unconditionally, to be happy with who I am and where I'm at. We're coming full circle here- don't you worry

You should tell your mom you're gay. Yeah, I definitely think I should. I need to let go of this feeling that I have to make everyone else in my life happy. It's an honorable desire, I know... but I truly think it will drive me crazy if I keep this up without being willing to portray myself honestly to them. I have to be willing to disappoint them for the sake of being real with myself, or I'm going to perpetually feel like a shell in my interactions... like I'm never fully present, or that I'm constantly holding some part of myself back. Truth be told, I doubt anyone will actually care... it's more of a pride thing at the end of the day... and I need to get over it.

Aren't you glad I didn't digress?

That's enough damage for one day.

Just Say Yes

Wow.

It's been so long. Believe it or not, I've actually logged on here a couple of times and started a post, but then I've gotten sidetracked and had to leave it. I might go through the unfinished ones and see what I can piece together, but I don't have the desire to do that right now

Long story short, the semester was crazy, and now it's over. I'm pretty happy about it. The END end is almost in sight, but I still have a couple semesters. I lucked out, though, this past year. I had an amazing class schedule, amazing roommates, money, a working car... what more can I ask for?

And then there was the persistent guy...

I guess that might actually be worth updating you on. He texted me out of the blue a couple of months ago. It coincided with my cutting off communication with THE guy, so I was willing to talk.... which led to my hanging out with him and making out... which led to my spending the night... which made this, all in all, an unexpected end-of-the-year development.

What do I feel about the persistent guy? That's a good question. It's what I'm trying to figure out right now. I'm trying to tell if the fact that I'm not completely for it is due to my being a little jaded from that first relationship. I'm generally a cautious person to begin with, and I think I'm coming across as especially aloof, disconnected. I dunno.

And then it forces the very real question of what I want in life- this can't exist in conjunction with the Church, or at least my being a student at BYU.

All the while, this cliche "The Road Not Taken"-style dialogue is playing out in my mind:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the path less traveled by, 

And that has made all the difference.

_____________________________

BUT upon arrival, I understood-

Darkness obscured the sea of faces

The diverging path, the distant wood

The bitter sting, wond'ring if it could

Have led me to brighter spaces.

Facing skyward, set to flight my prayer,

Which brought my spirit 'cross space and time.

The other path and the ending there:

Panged cries and suffocating despair.

My chosen path seemed, at once, sublime.

I am, by no means, a Robert Frost impersonator... and I'm definitely not a poet. I type this to make a point. The way we view the destination (upon arrival) is relative to the antecedent path (for lack of a better word) and our perception of what might have been.

We will, in fact, not be able to definitively know that what we've chosen is correct or the best choice among all available options. This isn't earth-shattering or even important until we are faced with a bifurcate path that will lead to very different outcomes...

Then, the question becomes real: How do I handle this one?

All Again For You

Have you ever seen the movie "War Boys" or whatever it's called?

Don't.

Sorry if this is gonna hurt your feelings, but it is kinda like a good idea filled with a whole lot of illogical events and decent acting. The acting, however, does not make up for the fact that the story just doesn't make sense in some places.

It starts off with these three guys (two white, one Mexican) who chase/harass illegal immigrants as they're trying to cross the border into Arizona or whatever. One of the white kids went off to college and then dropped out and came back. His dad is rich. His other white friend lives in a trailer and has a latina (adopted) sister. Not sure where the Mexican kid lives...

Throughout the course of the movie, you learn that the two white guys had hooked up years before (and then they hook up again... although it isn't graphic or anything). I'll be honest--they're pretty good looking. The three guys hijack a truck from the rich kid's dad's company and drive it out to the desert. It has TVs, and they're going to sell them off to make some money.

The Mexican kid hooks up with a latina who owns a restaurant. She makes him jack off under the table at the restaurant... again, not graphic.

The one kid who lives in a trailer freaks out from making out with his buddy, runs away, sits on the porch all night. His little sister comes out and starts talking to him. He tells her he kissed his friend. She asked if he was going to do it again. He said he didn't know and asked what she would think about having a brother like that. He goes back and hooks up with the kid.

They all converge upon the trailer and open it to find drugs and dead immigrants--apparently the dad was helping them cross the border for cash. Then, people start going crazy, the Mexican kid starts digging in the dirt with his hands to give them a burial......... ok....

Then the dad magically shows up (?) and pulls out a gun (?) and the son takes it and points it at him (?) then the border patrol shows up (?) and a sniper snipes the son (well, hits him in the side), and the kid goes down. The Mexican kid picks up the gun and points it at the dad... for some reason, the sniper doesn't snipe him, and then the latina sister of the one kid magically jumps out of the border patrol car and runs to the Mexican kid and takes the gun and throws it down (?)

What the hell?! Who the hell would go pick up a little girl before making a potential stop somewhere dangerous. Also, how did the maid of the rich dad find out that her nephews were on that truck and had died, and why does the sniper only shoot the first kid, and why the hell is everything suddenly so ridiculous. It was a little dumb--I'll be honest.

But there was something kinda touching about the two friends. I mean, cliche? Yes. But still.

In other news, sat by this kid in class today. He's a cowboy. Like a real one. man...

Don't know what it is about the rugged kind, but they get some mad bonus points. I think it's because my parents did not expose us to that stuff. For a long time, manual labor stuff was hired out. I mean, my parents don't have as much money as they used to, so I've done some heavy labor, but there's still something about guys in that stuff that makes them pretty dang hot.

And that's all I've got for you today.

Stereo Love

It's been a while--I know. I can't believe that time has gone by so fast... seems like every time I turn around, another week has gone by. 

But we're not here for small talk, are we?

An update on my life. Well, persistent guy has been cut out of my life. I wasn't mean, but I was frank. He was wanting something (and pushing for something) that I'm not ready for. When I made it clear that I wasn't going to budge, he kinda just disappeared.

And the original guy (we're gonna have to find a different name for him) is pretty much gone forever, too. I don't know why, but when someone comes in my life and then leaves abruptly, it changes me. With him, he entered, left, came back, left again, came back again, and left (again), and then came back. Well, do that enough times, and you've numbed me to you.

Where does that leave me? With no prospects, yes, but focused on school, work, and trying to get a job at some point in my life. And I'm trying to make good choices. Damn the gray.

I don't see myself as a bad person. Imperfect? Definitely. Very imperfect? Of course. And making good choices is frustratingly subjective, unless it's in the church. I've said it before, but I want to play by the rules while I'm here. It's tough, though. We'll see.

I'm having trouble getting this one out, so I'm gonna just post this for now and try to revisit it later. Guess I have some thinking to do. Don't get me wrong--nothing depressing here. In fact, life has been good. I really can't complain.

Yeah 3x

So I started taking medication for

A
D
H
D.

Wow. Wish I could describe it.

It's weird, you know--it's a stimulant, but it is prescribed to do exactly the opposite. Like really. Imagine yourself playing a one-man game of hot potato (so juggling?) with all of the stimuli around you in addition to a mess of unrelated thoughts in your head. That is life inside my head. It's a miracle I actually accomplish anything.

Slap me on some meds, and I can magically handle and examine one thought at a time for as long as I'd like. Really- I have never felt that way before in my life. Ever. Well, I mean I can hyper-focus, but it's usually the wrong thing at the wrong time. I've never actually made a decision to focus on something and then focused on it.

Whatever. You get the point. I just wish I would've done this like 10 years ago. Don't get me wrong: it's not like I've lived a life of underachievement and lost opportunities, but I wonder how much better I could have done with class, tests, or whatever... Aaaaaaanyways

Got a note from that missionary. Yeah. Guess I only brought up my problem with phone calls in previous posts, right? Makes my heart explode out of my chest. I hate that I get so googly-eyed.

THEN, I got a note the next day from a good friend halfway between home and school. Halfway friend? Is that like a halfway house? What exactly is a halfway house? It's settled, dude: you've got yourself a nickname... albeit a confusing one... Point is, kinda made my day after confusing missionary correspondence.

Not writing the missionary back.

Also, it's Christmas. And almost the end of the year. Maybe this is gonna be a longer post than I was expecting. A year-end reflection kinda thing? I mean, I might not be feeling it a week from now, and beggars (you) can't be choosers.

What was I doing a year ago? Well, thank goodness for this journal. I was watching Criminal Minds with my little sister and seeing that really, really good-looking guy yelling at some crazy (like stabby crazy) gay kid that there's nothing wrong with him... and then realizing that I agreed with really, really, ridiculously good-looking guy... and then realizing that I never look at a gay person and think of it as something that's wrong with them.

Then, realizing that I hold myself to a different standard, thinking that this is the only thing standing between me and a life that would make my parents, friends, family proud... selfless, right?

Haha. Right. A poor excuse to cover up the occasional (read: frequent) jolts of agony I feel for being incapable of living a life that I see as equal to those around me, acceptable in their eyes. It's really just selfish. Selfish because on some level, I'm still ashamed.

Ouch.

But why the bad stuff? I also kicked ass in school this year, survived a high-speed crash, made bank, spent some quality time with my family, finished a retaining wall, made some excellent friends, learned to cook authentic Indian food, wait-

learned you can make whipped eggnog--no shit! Just one part cream to one part eggnog. Then beat it for a long time. Haha- that's what she said. Make some drinking chocolate, top it with whipped eggnog, and sprinkle some cinnamon, and you've got yourself a drink that'll not only send the Christmas Spirit beating down your door and tracking snow through your house (all the while shouting a mixture of slurred profanities and "Merrrrrrrr Chrrstmsss"'s), but also send you into the new year with 20 extra pounds and type two diabetes.

Hands down the most amazing 2010 event thus far. Guess I've got a few days to see if anything else is gonna top that. My new meds came pretty damn close--I'll be honest.

As for the rest of it, I need to focus more on sincerity and less on outcomes, I know. We do our best to push onward and ask for forgiveness along the way because that's the most we can expect of ourselves. And in a world of inevitable interactions, collisions, human contact, I think self actualization lies somewhere around the point when we see through our own actions and outcomes to our underlying intentions. We find permission to seek and grant forgiveness for ourselves... it's a work in progress...

And you? I sincerely wish you a merry Christmas. Maybe we could all sit down to lunch sometime? Share a few hearty homo guffaws over a grilled chicken salad and an apple-tini? That was the gayest lunch I could think of...

Love Like Woe

My mom finally figured out the other night that the screaming on the answering machine was coming from the answering machine. !!! Did I tell you she used to think it was just the telemarketers calling and screaming? Hahahahahaha!

And people would call and be like, "Hello? Oh... got a worried sound on your answering machine..." Hahahaha. Telemarketers calling and screaming?!

So she finally realized it the other night and asked me, "TC, did you do something to the answering machine?" Keep in mind that I cannot tell a lie, and this isn't past-presidential-style folklore "I cannot tell a lie"about chopping cherry trees or whatever--I'm really, really awful at lying. I wish I were better.

"No?" I said, already starting to laugh. I was going upstairs to run away...

"TC, are you lying?"

I started laughing so hard that I cried and then tripped up the last of the stairs and fell in the hall.

Telemarketers? Telemarketers?!

To Clarify

This song that I'm in love with--"All I need"--it's by Mat Kearney...

That might be helpful should you find a different song under that title and wonder what the hell I'm thinking...

All I Need

This song makes me feel something--longing? Or comfort? Like something that reaches deep within and rearranges... neither creating nor destroying.

Damn you, Pandora. It's just adding to the mood. I want to be indifferent, cold, immovable. He was in the area today, so he visited--the missionary. What the hell, TC?! And why are you doing this, missionary. You left, and I thought I was free. You called. You called, again; and I prayed that it would just go away. Then you show up on the doorstep. And no matter how far I've been removed for how long, it tugs and pulls and tears off that scab I've so carefully constructed. There's something about you--I can't even tell if it's an actual physical attraction or that I just want to be where you are.

And you're not. Really. I mean, it may sound to you (the reader) like he is or could be, but you'd have to be there. It isn't a possibility. It's not a possibility.

But man, just when I think I'm strong, it shakes me to the core. I just need to remind myself that it will go away, eventually... that I'll learn to see this as what it is: a friend.

And someday, I will find someone who does the exact same thing to me as this kid does... except I'll do the same to him. It'll happen- I know it will. And it'll feel right, it'll feel comfortable.

Missionary, I'm grateful for you. I wish I didn't feel this way--really, truly wish I didn't feel this way. And you've forced me to learn and to change. You claw at the corners of my heart, though I try to cover, to hide, to harden then. And through the pain, I am reminded that I am human- that no matter how high, how long, how deep the stony wall may be, it will only ever be a feeble and failed attempt to guard the emotions that humble and humanize, that bind my soul to my body, that paint broad strokes of deep blues and purples across our landscape.

I need a change of songs. Scratch that--I need to go to bed.

You Found Me

Where were you when everything was falling apart? When all my days were spent by the telephone? It never rang, and all I needed was a call. It never came to the corner of First and Amistad.


Lost and insecure. You found me, you found me. Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded. Why'd you have to wait. Where were you? Where were you? Just a little late. You found me. You found me.


I like it. It's how I feel.

Against my better judgment, I'm on the internet when I should be sleeping. It's hard to feel really bad about it when I know tomorrow's Friday, but still...

Dear persistent guy:

I'm not sure how to handle this. I'm a lot more observant than I let on to, more careful than I'd like to admit... You're way more into this than me, and I don't know what to do about it. I don't know what I want, so it puts me in an interesting position. I don't know how to handle you--I don't know how to handle someone who is interested in me? It makes me nervous- why? Why do you feel this way about me?

And why don't I feel the same way for you? But I guess that's how it works sometimes...

What am I trying to get at? Maybe another one to save and not to post.

It's hard not to be suspicious when someone is interested in me. Like I've said before, you wouldn't have to put a paper bag over my head or something if we were hooking up, and I'm not schizo or something... I just feel ordinary, unassuming. And that's ok with me. In fact, I prefer it. As it turns out, attention makes me queasy.

So why? and I feel your expectations. I am destined to let you down in that regard.

This isn't supposed to be a downer for me or you, it's just that I am destined not to meet your expectations; and the higher they are, the more I pull away. I'm secretly terrified of disappointing people.

But let's say some nice things about me! First, I have a pretty damn good sense of humor. Well, good/offensive. Second, I am tall (but more on the average side), dark (except in the winter), and passably handsome. Third, I have a pretty good memory. Fourth, I'm a good cook. Fifth, my teeth are white, and I've got some pretty decent abs. Sixth, (and most importantly!) I'm humble.

Haha.

I saw one of my friends who I haven't seen in about six years. In some ways, it was really nice. In others, I didn't want to be there... I don't know why? I guess because I was afraid of it being awkward--we have the history, you know? But six years is a long time.

Also, I realized that the blinds on the window in my bathroom actually weren't obscuring your view of me... noticed that the fact that I could see clearly outside when I got out of the shower this morning meant that you could see me clearly from the street. Hope you enjoyed the show :).

Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel

Yes, it is time for Christmas music. I probably mentioned this before, but my mom has enough Christmas music to rival most radio stations. My favorite is Manheim Steamroller... especially the one that starts with "Hark! The Herald Trumpets Sing," as I think it is the one we heard the most when I was little.

When I was little, we always set the tree up in the sitting room. There was a fireplace on one end and the Christmas tree on the other. At night, I used to go downstairs, turn the tree lights on, and lie under the tree. I was obviously a lot smaller than I am now :). The lights always felt warm and safe... There was something about sitting underneath the warm, bright tree while the moon lit up the snow-covered ground outside... Everything was quiet, peaceful.

After my parents divorced, things didn't feel that way for a long time. I know it was because the old traditions were over, no matter how hard we tried to recreate them. But after some stumbling, I think we were able to create new traditions. Now, despite our weird hybrid-family situation, I've noticed those feelings returning.

Anyway, today was a good after-Thanksgiving. For one, I have a new mac. Thank goodness. I'd like to think I'm not an Apple snob. It really was in a price range that I can justify. Also, it's hard not to buy a computer that looks so good, you know?

I mean, throw up two computers in the same price range and with comparable specs, and I'm gonna go with looks. This little guy is pretty darn good-looking. I've got to think of a name for him.

What else can I tell you? Everyone I know and love around me is getting a pretty bad flu bug. I'm hoping it doesn't happen to me. I've been washing my hands and not touching my face, so that's a good start... It's just a really inconvenient time to get sick.

And I'm poor again. As much as I'd like to think I can throw money around for a new computer and not feel the effects, it's a lie!

Dang it. I feel like I've just rambled the whole time. I'd like to give you something that'll make it worth your time to read this post... I've got nothin. Sorry. I'm really tired, though.

Night.

If I Die Young

Bury me in sun. Lay me down in a bed of roses.

You should probably listen to this song.

Have you ever been riding on a merry-go-round that's spinning really fast? And you try to focus on the images as they blur past you, but you can only capture a moment of clarity before it reverts back to blurry?

That's like my brain. I was staring at this report at work the other day, and I almost started crying out of frustration. I couldn't focus on it--I couldn't find the willpower or something. It just kept blurring past me.

I had pretty bad ADD when I was little. My mom told me that when she'd rearrange the furniture in a room (when I was like four, mind you), I'd run around in circles in the room for 10 or 20 minutes, trying to take it in. Always got in trouble in school, too. My mom was a special ed teacher, so she helped me learn how to cope with it. I just learned to do everything as fast as I could--held my breath sometimes and just did as much as I could for as long as I could hold my breath. My teachers in elementary school had extra work that they would give me after I finished the normal stuff.

But yeah, I find a 10- or 20-minute period where I can focus, and I just do as much as I possibly can... Testing is a little trickier, but I speed through those, too. And it works ok--it means I miss some questions sometimes, but life goes on. Thank goodness for a good memory, as I think that helps balance everything out. Also, I can like hyper-focus on certain things, so I've been lucky in classes that relate to those subjects.

As it turns out, this coping method doesn't work at work... that missing a few details here and there can be really expensive. Either I need to find a different profession, or I need to find a way to take care of this. I'm gonna go get tested, learn about different ways to cope.

The persistent guy texted me the other day:

"you don't wanna talk to me anymore? things seem different..."

Me: Dammit. These always come at the wrong time for me. We're seriously going to have this conversation while I'm at work? I don't know what the hell I want, and now I have to find some way to verbalize feelings I'm not entirely sure I understand in the first place? Maybe I should just break it off right now? But this is a nice kid... But it is also not very good timing for me to be in any kind of relationship... but when will the timing be good... "No dude. I'm just kinda confused right now. I mean, I don't know really where to go from here--BYU's not the ideal place to be in a relationship, and I don't want to be outed or kicked out of school or something. So, to answer your question, I do still want to talk to you, but I'm just trying to figure out where we go from here."

Him: "Well, I'll leave the ball in your court."

Well, I'm trying to figure out what kind of ball this is and what kind of court we're in... or what planet I'm on, for that matter. Leaving the ball with me would be a little bit easier if I understood if this was the beginnings of a friendship or relationship or the end of something... But for heaven's sake, let's define the ball before going and leaving it with me in whatever the hell kind of court I'm in. I don't even know what game we're playing!

So here's to ambiguity in all of its glory, as it seems to bless my life in excessive quantities...

And here's to ADD in all of it's glory. How else would I be able to finish tests so quickly?

And lastly, I cooked with black truffle oil for the first time. This may be a staple in your cupboard, so bear with me, but it was pretty dang good. Marinated NY strip steak in red wine, garlic, crushed pepper, etc; slapped it on the grill, then finished it off with some truffle oil and served it with herbed wheat berries. Don't wanna toot my own horn too much, but that was pretty dang good.

Stay With You

The persistent guy is back in a big way. Maybe bigger than I'd like... Trying to slow him down. Granted, we haven't (want won't be able to for a couple months) met up, but I get nervous every time I feel like change is coming. This is just awkward, because how do you explain to your friends the fact that there is suddenly another guy there, too? Have I mentioned I am a miraculously bad liar?

And I feel bad for the guy because I go through these swings of "yeah, I like this guy" to "what the hell am I doing? I should really just stay single."

Anyways, I've got a couple months to really come to a decision.

Also, I signed up for classes for next semester. That should be interesting. I'm getting to the point where graduation really is within reach, and I'm a little scared. Still not really sure I'll ever be employed, and I don't think I'll believe it until I actually have a job.

Kinda a letdown--I got on here with full intentions of writing something, and this is all you get.

I've been sleepwalking a little lately. Nothing extreme, but I'll wake up in the morning naked (?) with clothes folded and in a pile or with more clothing than I went to bed with... or stuff will be in different places in the morning. Thought I was going crazy, but my dad told me I used to sleepwalk a lot when I was little.

It only really happens if I'm super stressed, which I've kind of been lately. I just have to remember to keep my life in perspective. The worst-case scenario never seems to be so bad once you push your imagination to that limit... it becomes "known" to you, and knowing seems to help the stress and fear dissipate.

Here's to waking up with the exact same clothing I went to bed in.

Lovers in Japan

On rare occasions, I won't skip Coldplay on my Pandora station. Their songs sound mysteriously similar, though. Like "Clocks" and "Speed of Sound"... anyone? I was actually listening to "Clocks" when I crashed my car and had a sweet near-death experience, so it kinda does the opposite of relax me now.

In other news, I have finally put a shirt on for the day... and put my contacts in, too. This is the life.

I sometimes write stuff on here that I don't actually post, and I was reading through one of those unposted entries just now. I'm grateful that I can come here and dump the contents of my brain onto the webpage. Not sure if getting it out in the sunlight helps it wither and die, but it definitely helps.

Remember the persistent kid? He's back. Always catches me in a weak spot. Nothing can happen from the long distance, though.

This kid is so nice. First of all, I can actually have a conversation with him that doesn't revolve around him... unlike the original guy. Second, he doesn't push. Third, I don't think I've had someone actually beat me to paying for dinner, but it was kinda a nice feeling. Thought it would be emasculating, you know? Haha, but I guess I probably shouldn't even worry about that. And it isn't.

And so I started thinking the other day about how I don't necessarily believe I deserve this guy... which  made me wonder why... which made me wonder if I'm using relationships as a way to punish myself for being this way? Which made me really confused and a little worried, so I stopped thinking about it altogether.

Thing is, I think I do deserve someone nice- someone who'd be as willing to sacrifice for me as I'd be for them. I deserve someone who brings out the best in me, who doesn't make me feel like I have to try to be good enough.

Not like I've made plans to elope in a gay-marriage state with the kid or anything. I just appreciate the fact that every other text I get doesn't make me feel like I need to do something to make myself better. I appreciate that interacting with him helped understand this a little better.

That'll do for today.

The Minstrel's Prayer

Yes, I will admit that Cartel is a little "yell-y," if you will... but it's still a good song... and WAAAAYYY better than what my Pandora was playing last time.

Not sure (like the majority of the other times) why I'm on here, but blogging kinda makes me feel productive? I was wide. awake. at early o'clock this morning, just like every other Saturday since my biological clock decided it was time for me to be an old man. I mean, seriously... I was tired and went to bed at 11:30 last night... it was Friday? What the hell? And I get a little bent out of shape if I'm going to bed later than 10:30 on weeknights.

But blogging! I have this bimonthly (or even monthly, sometimes) tradition of going through the Connexion guys. No, no profile for me, but it does remind me that I'm not the only gay person on the face of the planet. And some of those guys are pretty dang good-looking. I figured out what gets me: a good smile, and a defined jaw... weird, right? The jaw thing might be because I've always been a little disappointed that I don't have a chiseled jaw, but it's not like I stand in the mirror and count the reasons why no one could love me... Just a personal observation. And scruff. Anyway, that was what I decided to do this morning with part of my extra hours of consciousness.

And remember that missionary? He got transferred away a little bit ago... but called me last night... which kinda made me miss him... lots... until I walked myself through the logic of how that could (read: couldn't) work out. But it's confusing. I mean, come on, man, I've accepted the fact that you're not and it can't be, but I still feel little (big) twinges when you do stuff like that.

I had a breakfast of graham crackers and nutella with a glass of organic whole milk to wash it down. And I wonder what happened to my abs... but here's the deal--organic milk really is so much better. Granted, there isn't much of a difference (I think) in taste between organic/non-organic skim milk, but 2% and better definitely have a better taste. There's something about the milk fat or cream or whatever. And it comes in a glass bottle, like a throwback to the 50's and milkmen. We actually had a milkman when I was little. I remember him leaving milk in this kinda steel (it was metal, that's all I remember) container.

Also, for once, I'm not so poor. And my car is being fixed under warranty. Also, my mom still hasn't figured out that the answering machine is now just three seconds of screaming. I'm halfway waiting for the day when she calls and asks me why someone had the police sent to her house to check up on her. The novelty still hasn't worn off for me, maybe because I've been at the same level of maturity since I was 8.

I had one more funny story for you, and then I won't tell stories for a little while. But I was thinking about this the other day- oh! I know why. I saw this person and couldn't figure out if it was a feminine man or a manly woman. I know I shouldn't stare, but it's kinda like a car accident: you can't look away. And it got me to thinking (which got me to laughing, which is really weird when you're by yourself and laughing in public)...

It was freshman year, and I had gone out with one of the guys on my floor. I don't really understand why, but during my freshman year (not really before, and not really after... or not very often, at least) girls would call out or whistle or whatever at us. Let's get this straight (hahaha something on this blog should be...): it's not like I'm an ugly guy, and you wouldn't have to put a bag on my head if we were hooking up, but looks that'll stop traffic? Definitely not. Maybe I just missed the opportunities of a brief window of extreme hottness during my freshman year? haha. I did have an extra 20 lbs of muscle on me...

This is taking too long to tell you the story. So we were out one evening, and these girls pulled up in a car, rolled down the windows and were like, "heyyyy." It kinda surprised us, but we started walking up to them (not like it mattered to me). I got closer, looked at them, and (I really should think before I say shit) yelled, "those aren't girls! Those are trannies!"

Why did I say it? Truthfully, for a brief moment, they did look a little like trannies. I didn't realize that was just Utah's attempt at looking hott. Why did I yell it? Because apparently I should be on medication. I think it just caught me so off-guard that I didn't have time to filter my words...

Needless to say, the girls rolled up their windows and drove off. I was still a little confused at how this just happened. It was like an out-of-body experience. My buddy was a little disappointed, I think, but laughing too much to say anything more than, "nice job, dude."

And that was the first (and last) time I ever told someone they looked like a tranny... to their face...

You stay classy, San Diego.

Waiting on the World to Change

The song is good, not great. My Pandora's not working too great tonight.

Just one other really funny thing:

My bro-in-law and me taped over the stupid robot voice on my mom's answering machine. Now, it's just three seconds of us screaming. Most of the messages people leave now begin with confused mumbling and then something about the answering machine... and my mom hasn't figured it out yet. I can't stop laughing.

I Miss You

Just a quick funny story-

We were laughing about my niece the other night (in a good way--that girl is hilarious) and started talking about some of the stuff she does that I actually used to do... and I thought you might appreciate this one:

When I was little, I used to talk a lot. Like, really a lot. So, instead of talking, my parents used to make me count in the car. It was 350 from our house to the school, give or take some by how fast I was counting. It didn't take long before I started recognizing the patterns and stuff...

SO when it came time to start going to preschool, the preschool teachers sat down with us (individually) to see how much we knew about colors, numbers, shapes, etc. The teachers asked me to start counting, and I asked them how high they wanted me to count. They asked me how high I could count. I told them 1000. "Why don't you count to 100 right now, and then maybe you can count to 1000 in the car on the way home today, they said."

It's funny because it's one of the few specific memories I have from that far back. The teachers told my mom when she came to pick me up... only got to 350 on the way home, though.

My mom was almost crying from laughing so hard as she was retelling the story to us the other night. Oh man- what am I gonna do with myself?

I don't talk so much anymore, though, so don't worry.

The End Where I Begin (a repeat?)

Yesterday was the first day where I actually accepted the fact that it is going to be fall soon... well, that the weather would catch up to the season, I guess...

I thought about all of the winter things--traditions, food, decorations... it made me excited for it. Then, I started wondering if I really do want to live somewhere warm? I'm not sure a cup of super thick hot chocolate and a slice of pumpkin pie work out too well if it isn't cold outside. And cranberry sauce. Hmmm. Made an apple-cranberry chutney yesterday.

Yeah, I guess there is a time and place for the cold... I don't know why, but it seems like most of my family's traditions are all for the winter. I mean, there's the 4th of July tradition of boating, tubing, listening to the symphony, but that's really the only summer thing I can think of.

Have you ever been to a candlelight service? We used to go to one at a really traditional Christian church when I was little. I remember my mom forcing me to wear these itchy wool sweaters, being given a candle at the beginning of the service, singing tons of Christmas carols, then lighting the candle at the end of the service, dimming the lights, and singing "Silent Night" by candlelight. We'd pile in the car after the service and drive around, looking at the Christmas lights in this one area where they'd go all out. Then, we'd head home, head upstairs, head to bed. Sometimes, I'd lay underneath the Christmas tree and stare up at all the lights. I know they don't really give off tons of heat, but it still felt warm.

I actually didn't like Christmas morning too much--that was the time when you knew it was coming to an end.

But man, we're not even to Halloween. I do remember going door to door as fast as possible, getting home and dumping out all of our candy and spending the next few hours trading my siblings for what I wanted--Reese's and Crunch bars, for the most part. Pumpkin carving and toasted pumpkin seeds.

Yeah, this is an ok time of year, even if I do hate the cold...

Show Me What I'm Looking For

I can't remember if I've posted under this song title or not... and I'm too lazy to go check... so I'm sorry if I shafted you.

There was an article on MSN that I was just reading about sleep and what it means about you. I was reading the article, and it was like, "if you sleep like a log, you're grateful in real life... if you have restless sleep, you may be overly critical of yourself and anxious in general and at an unusual risk of death..."

Well, dammit. I am THE lightest sleeper in the world. For example, my stereo (when stereos were cool...) would make this whisper-quiet clicking noise before turning on in the morning to play music and wake me up. I always woke up to the click. And I wake up at night trying to solve problems and being really angry that I can't come up with the answer. When I force myself to actually sit up and think about the problem, it usually turns out that there is no answer. Otherwise, I will literally lie in bed for hours, frustrated and half-awake.

But then, the article was like, "If you have really vivid dream recall, you are probably a very creative person in the daytime." Yes! I have vivid dream recall! It felt good knowing that I was creative.

"People in this category are also at a higher risk of schizophrenia."

Oh...

So lemme get this straight, I'm an ungrateful, anxious, perfectionist, schizo who will die an early death?! And don't forget the "creative" part...

Well, come visit me at the mental health facility (but don't procrastinate, 'cuz I might die on you), and you'll probably find me yelling at me for never fully appreciating all the work the orderlies do for me and how if I'm not more grateful, I'll drive them away. But I will paint you a sweet picture... actually, I don't paint.

I went to my grandpa's farm this weekend to do some work up there. If you're picturing me as the hot farm-boy type, you should probably stop right there. I'm not. Wish I were... or that I could find one... or a cowboy... what the hell is wrong with me? But I definitely was not cut out for farm work. Really.

But I was talking to my grandpa, and I learned something about him that I never knew before: he wanted to be a concert pianist. No shit. "I had to be realistic, though; so I stayed here instead of going to music school." I've never even seen my grandpa touch a piano before. And then I started to think about me--did I throw away something that could have been really amazing? But talk about a profession that would drive me to kill myself. I couldn't handle it... no matter what you win or how well you do, you can't ever be perfect, and you can't beat everyone in the world... and nothing is ever good enough, either. But that's the way it has to be. You don't get better by thinking you're "good enough," you know?

Didn't mean to give you an earful. It's a delicate balance, though, and one I couldn't handle. And, to be perfectly honest, it is impossible to pursue all possible courses at once. We trudge ahead and, perhaps with bravado, claim it was the correct path. We can't measure what might have been, but we trust that it pales in comparison to what is.

It's still hard for me to be ok with myself sometimes. I'm grateful for the rational me that forfeited the audition processes and put me in an environment that was maybe a little more nurturing.

And I respect the life my grandpa has had. For one, I'm here. For another, he raised amazing (although some of them turned out Republican--wtf?) kids... his contribution was quiet but miraculous in a way that few people will ever recognize, but that's what makes it beautiful. Leave the stage to someone else, I say.

My dog is asleep on the floor in front of me. She's having a running dream right now. Maybe we can be schizophrenic together.

The Adventure (Angels & Airwaves)

***Spoiler Alert! This really isn't worth your time to read.***

I guess I'm getting a little more consistent in my blogging, again.

What stories do I have to share with you guys? It's kinda funny how I sometimes get the feeling like I should get on here and talk about something, and then I sit down and realize I don't really have anything to talk about...

My Friday has been about as uneventful as possible. I watched Bones, did some yoga-

Which reminds me. My brother-in-law gave me the P90x yoga... I guess I'm use to yoga being kinda relaxing (slash really uncomfortable), but this was different.. First of all, I cannot tell if that guy is gay or straight, or maybe bi, or maybe asexual. And he's a tool. And he seems to have something against Audra. And he calls the dancer guy "a wild man." What does that even mean? And I know yoga is a workout, but this seems a lot more "work out-y" than normal... But let's be honest--I am far from an expert.

Anyway, then I did some laundry, cleaned, cooked myself a super-late dinner, and sat down to blog.

I am currently home alone, which can be a little creepy. I keep the music on, so that helps. One really nice thing is that things stay clean. I can look at the kitchen without having a seizure. But then I start thinking about someone breaking in and trying to kill me, and then I think about what I would do to stop them... It depends on what kind of weapon they had. As long as they don't have a gun, I have a fighting chance. Even with a gun, I'd still like to think I'd put up a fight.

Now that we've discussed that...

I really should go to bed. There is nothing meaningful that is coming from this blog post.

Dang it. I should write something meaningful.

I was trying to home teach the other day. As I'm giving the lesson, I suddenly realize that my heart really isn't in it... that it wishes it were, that it wishes it could kindle that fervent faith... It was kind of depressing. I got in the car and drove home in silence, trying to pinpoint what was happening. I think that I've begun to believe (and sincerely) that religion does not have a monopoly on goodness, that there are so many good and beautiful things and people in the world- people trying to do their best to lift and brighten and improve. On the other hand, there are church members who are complete douches.

If I had taken time to think about it, I probably could have delivered the message more meaningfully. The Church really did help awaken a desire for me to look outwards and spend my energy there, and I believe that it has worked miracles in my life. But I've realized that the Church doesn't have all of the answers.

Yes, we could argue that the Spirit is our guide in finding answers to the problems we have. That belief has been a source of personal conflict: no answer--what do I do? How do I make this go away? I don't even know where to start. I'm doing everything I know how to do. Maybe I just need to be doing it for longer. Maybe I need to take more drastic measures. Just don't let me feel like I'm doing this on my own. Don't let me feel like I'm doing this in vain.


Maybe I should have waited longer, been more patient. But it is hard for me to ignore the potential beauty I could experience in this life for the promise of being able to get by under a guise of normalcy... It's also hard to know if what I'm doing is courageous.

But there is no black and white answer for that. For some people, I believe that the courageous thing is to forfeit the potential happiness of living a gay life for their belief in the Gospel. It's all very gray and confusing.