How I'll never look at stars the same...
It's just a saying that came to mind; something that might be a from a movie after a scene where a couple spent a night staring up at the sky. I guess I see the last two years like that. Staring out into the future, looking at plans/goals, making those things happen.
There is so much hurt that I can't feel. All of the pain tries to fly out at once and only ends up flooding the channels. I'm sweating. Flash.
Maturity...it's like this straight jacket that we put on because to chide and become irrational when we hurt is somehow unbecoming. The feeling of wanting to shred their clothes, box their belongings and break things isn't healthy, but pleading cliches like, "if you love someone, set them free" is the enlightened way of channeling that same energy. We don't call that delusional.
I vowed in my head that if this did not work that I would not put myself through this again. Now I'm facing that in the mirror and realizing how final it feels. There's a dim sense of contentment in reviving the fire in me of being single--the freedom. But it's so dim right now and I'm too tired for months of wearing down to really cultivate that into light. I want to stop flashing with this heat right now. I want to be held. I want it to be all okay. I want it to stop. I want it to stop.
Tuesday, December 17, 2002
Friday, December 06, 2002
12-06-2002
COPIED:
Journal Entry: Friday, December 6th, 2002
=======================================
It's a feeling of unfocused anger. It's rage that has no project to complete. There's no poetry that I want to write. It's a sense of helplessness surrounded by a group of powerful people that will smile as they step on you and yet feel bad as they do it and continue to do so. Oh what it is to be an ant in the Christian world.
I'm not a fighter by design. I became this way by means of an environment. There's still that dream that a different path might have been taken; one where I would have been shielded by this in a life of academia. Instead, I have eaten from the tree and cannot go back.
Am I intolerant? How can one tolerate something that is unacceptable? And if that question is asked on both sides of the issue, then truly there can be no peace for it's a fundamental divide and each side holds to their own righteousness
Journal Entry: Friday, December 6th, 2002
=======================================
It's a feeling of unfocused anger. It's rage that has no project to complete. There's no poetry that I want to write. It's a sense of helplessness surrounded by a group of powerful people that will smile as they step on you and yet feel bad as they do it and continue to do so. Oh what it is to be an ant in the Christian world.
I'm not a fighter by design. I became this way by means of an environment. There's still that dream that a different path might have been taken; one where I would have been shielded by this in a life of academia. Instead, I have eaten from the tree and cannot go back.
Am I intolerant? How can one tolerate something that is unacceptable? And if that question is asked on both sides of the issue, then truly there can be no peace for it's a fundamental divide and each side holds to their own righteousness
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
Strobes
I once put a strobe light in the bathroom while I was taking a shower and realized that the water coming out of the shower head was not one continuous stream, but really individual droplets moving so fast as to seem like they were connected. People can be similar.
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
Randomly Bothered
Self-medication. I'd guess we all do it to some extent or another. For me, the medication changes to deal with the same issues. I wonder if that's better/worse than using the same medication to deal with different issues. I suppose it depends on the issues. I suppose it depends on the medication. I suppose I'm talking in circles.
I just got a call where the guy was trying to get me to tell him who called him at 4am yesterday morning. "I have the number, can you tell me who the person is?" I don't know if he was drunk or high or just the product of a backwoods beastiality brawl. "You see, it's been randomly bothering me." Randomly bothering? Oh shit...I can't write shit this good.
Nathan's grandmother (Oma) died today or yesterday. (My times are screwed up on graveyard) This comes at such a pivotal time in his recovery. I have this inner picture of his family bonding over the loss. I don't know if that's hopefulness or clairvoyance.
This loss, coupled with the e-mail dialogue of the past few days knocked something together as far as speaking with my mother. I sent an e-mail to explain what has angered me so.
As I suspected, my sister is at the age where comprehension of the world around her has arrived. I fowarded her the perviously entry to get her thoughts. She was quite articulate in her response. Funny too. Soon I will share with her the journal entries of my teenage years.
I just got a call where the guy was trying to get me to tell him who called him at 4am yesterday morning. "I have the number, can you tell me who the person is?" I don't know if he was drunk or high or just the product of a backwoods beastiality brawl. "You see, it's been randomly bothering me." Randomly bothering? Oh shit...I can't write shit this good.
Nathan's grandmother (Oma) died today or yesterday. (My times are screwed up on graveyard) This comes at such a pivotal time in his recovery. I have this inner picture of his family bonding over the loss. I don't know if that's hopefulness or clairvoyance.
This loss, coupled with the e-mail dialogue of the past few days knocked something together as far as speaking with my mother. I sent an e-mail to explain what has angered me so.
As I suspected, my sister is at the age where comprehension of the world around her has arrived. I fowarded her the perviously entry to get her thoughts. She was quite articulate in her response. Funny too. Soon I will share with her the journal entries of my teenage years.
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
Choose life...Choose a Job
That *nature* I talked about in my previous entry. I feel it more than ever after writing this e-mail below.
-j.r.me
=====================================
Kim,
I do thank you for your honest responses. Part of the on-going education I provide here in Orange County is speaking in front of students when invited for Human Sexuality courses in colleges/universities and in high school diversity or tolerance weeks so I'm happy to answer your questions as they're ones I've heard many times before.
I've learned that there are as many misunderstanding and misconceptions about LGBT. Probably as many as I would have about relations and struggles in the Middle East. I'm not a part of that community, nor do the issues there mean anything to me personally. I'm completely ignorant of the strifes & struggles about why certain people want one thing and others another. It would either take me having a personal stake in the matter or a desire to want to educate myself to really know anything about the Middle East and the same holds true for LGBT issues.
There can be no change without dialogue, so I really do appreciate you sharing your thoughts. Now, my responses...((And I know how hard it is to interpret intent, inflection, tone, etc in e-mail communication, so I'll just say now that I wrote all of the following being level-headed, calm and in a way that was simply reading and responding. I hope that my words came out that way.))
>First before I answer I would like to know for what purpose are you pursuing
>this legislation? Is it for equal benefit rights? Or to make a statement
>that LGBT relationships are the same as any other type of relationship?
For me, this issue is all about equal rights. It's about not having to live as a 2nd class citizen. This would mean civil rights & benefit rights. Please correct me if you meant something different, but when I see the word "benefits" I immediately think of health benefits (medical, dental, vision) These are things that I already have in working for a company that provides same sex benefits.
In this country we have a separation of Church & State. For me, this means that regardless of what one believes religiously, the State still has an obligation to provide the same legal protections & allowances as any other person. What of the agnostic, aetheist or simply those that don't practice any faith? What of the Bhuddist, whose religion doesn't discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation? My discussions are purely relating to the State and the civil rights afforded by same.
EXAMPLE 1:
1) Heterosexual couple "married" for 15 years. One Spouse dies.
2) LGBT couple "married" for 15 years. One Spouse dies.
Civil Rights.....In couple #1, the surviving spouse automatically assumes control over property, money, benefits, etc. Custody of your children is automatically transferred. If the couple is retired, the social security benefits are automatically transferred. These are just a few of the common, tip of the iceberg civil rights that you probably take for granted. In couple #2, none of these things are transferred.
EXAMPLE 2:
Same couples above, this time no death, but one spouse is in a coma in the hospital.
Civil Rights...as a heterosexual married couple you legally have the right to make any life/death decisions on the part of your spouse. Do you keep them on life support? What course of treatment do you go with? Your spouses mother/father or other family cannot make those decisions---You have that right. In the LGBT couple, depending on the State one lives in, the spouse may have no decision and perhaps not be allowed even in the hospital room. The immediately family of the person in the coma has the right to make decisions about their health.
In these examples, the basic point is that what makes one relationship any less valid in the eyes of the State?
>I would hope that they parents whomever
>they are would not force one lifestyle or another on the child. Now in that
>light- I will raise my kids with the morals that I carry and that includes
>loving everyone no matter who they are or who they choose to love. My child
>can then make the decisions that they wish. I do believe that homosexuality
>is a choice. Just as having sex outside of marriage is. I would hope that
>I raise my child to make the right decisions, but in the end the decision is
>still theirs and I will love them no matter what.
If one's sexual orientation is a choice, when did you choose your heterosexuality? It sounds like an absurd question, but seriously, when did you say to yourself, "Today I'm going to be a heterosexual.?" Most people I've talked to didn't choose to be straight---they just are. The same would hold true for me.
When it comes to choice, there is behavior and there is orientation. Choosing to have sex outside of marriage is a behavior. Inmates in prison choose to have sex with other men. This is a behavior---it does not mean that the inmates sexual orientaion is homosexual, it only means that they are choosing to engage in homosexual acts. Sexual orientation is not a choice. The natural attraction of Who turns your head, that instinct, that flutter in your heart, sweatiness of the palms being around someone---that is not something you choose. ((Or at least I don't remember choosing it.))
When you met your husband, you made a choice to share your life and you constatntly make choices in your relationship, but did you choose to love like you would choose what outfit to wear? When having your children, did you have to choose to love them or did that come naturally? COULD YOU CHOOSE *NOT* TO LOVE YOUR CHILD? You see, my point is that there are things that you feel without making a choice to feel them. Who turns my head is not a choice. Now, to act on those feelings---that behavior is a choice.
>Now- how do I feel about same sex partners mothering and fathering kids for each other. Don't like it. I think they should adopt. Then again I don't
>believe in surrogating for anyone.
Okay, so it's okay for same sex mothers/fathers to adopt & raise kids as long as it's not biologically their own? This does not make any sense to me, could you please explain?
For myself, my personal philosophy is that there are plenty of abandon & unwanted children in this world so adoption would be the choice for me, but shouldn't preclude someone else's right to father or mother their own children.
And if it's okay to adopt, wouldn't it be more beneficial for the child to know they are raised in a family that is sanctioned by the State in a marriage? With a heterosexual couple, when two people have a child and are not married, they are said to have the child out of wedlock... a bastard child. We (society) look at a couple who is married as being somehow more socially acceptable to raise a child. So if it's okay for a same sex couple to adopt, then why penalize the innocent child by not allowing its parents to marry?
>My problem with the LGBT lifestyle and how I have to explain it to my kids
>is the way that it is portrayed in the media.
The media...is the media. It will always be sensationalized in such a way that it can sell sell sell. If we're talking media, there is plenty of trash on TV period, regardless of the subject matter. It's a simple choice to turn the TV off and/or monitor what your children are watching.
>Even shows that are suppose
>to be "gay friendly" I think portray the gay lifestyle in a very unfriendly
>manner. The general public concern is that "all" gay people are perverts
>and sexual deviants. Then you have shows like "queer as folk" that I think
>only emphasize that even more. The show has a VERY strong and sometimes in
>my opinion "perverse" sexual content and spends more time on the sexual
>escapades than on the relationships and friendships of the characters.
LOL. Well, I commend you on having watched QAF, although I'd hardly use that as a template for the typical gay "lifestyle." Think of it this way.....If I went to a straight club and watched the interactions of people in this dance environment and walked away thinking that this was how all people met, in a club/bar while drinking, doing drugs, etc.... would I be right to make that assumption? If I went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans and saw all of these straight people yelling & screaming and celebrating, is that how most people in this country live their lives everyday? It's all in context.
I look at QAF specifically as entertainment, nothing more. Groundbreaking in as much as a show such as it has never been aired in the United States before, but I can guarantee that my life has never been so exciting, dramatic, pathetic or explicit. But that's the point of entertainment in my eyes.
>When
>a show like "sex and the city" which has sex it's name, talks a lot about
>sex but in the relationship factor.
The character, Samantha has sex with a different person in almost every episode. This is flattering? Even when she had a pseudo-relationship with Richard, the emphasis was always on the sex. Again, I watch this show for entertainment, but having never been to New York myself, I would not assume that the lives of these four women are typical female lives in New York... it's just fun to watch.
Also, this brings up the differences between men & women. Sex In The City is a female oriented show, focusing on talking about relationships. Get all of your husbands together and are they going to bare their souls like these women do in conversation? No. The typical male just doesn't do that. In Queer As Folk, the audience is for men primarily. Regardless of whether we're talking straight or gay men.....sex is something that men talk about in terms of their conquests & escapades as if they were achievements rather than their emotional state of mind or their relationships.
>For example, "queer as folk" how many
>times have there been scenes with that one guy and all the porn and the porn
>shots going on in the background and all of that. If you have a non-gay
>friendly person channel surfing and they flip through that- what do they
>think- THOSE DAMN GAY PERVERTS! The sex is never in a portrayed in a
>"normal" light- it is always in the extreme!
If I was channel surfing and came across any number of cable stations I could form an uneducated opinion. There are plenty of movies that are not mainstream media that portray something "normal." I don't suspect though that someone who is "non-gay friendly" is going to be any more friendly by seeing "normal" gay sex as opposed to "extreme."
I find it strange that we're even on the topic of sex. All I was originally talking about was securing equal civil rights---marriage and/or a civil union. My sex life, your sex life--anyone's sex life is something private that isn't being discussed here. What we're talking about are people's right to legally solidfy their committment to each other and receive the benefits of that union.
>Now I know "Will and Grace" is
>prime time programming, but still this shows emphasizes the relationships of
>the characters with a little sex thrown in- but still shows them in a more
>positive light. I would have no problem letting my child when they are of
>age watch "Will and Grace".
I don't even watch Will & Grace. hahaha Again, this is entertainment. Will & Grace is a sit-com on a public TV station. QAF is on a pay service cable channel.
>Homosexuality is not going to just go away. I
>want my kids to embrace the "people" no different than anyone else. You
>don't have to like what they do- but they are people like you and me none
>the less.
And you can't treat them as any less than people or deny them any less rights than other people. Again, I read things like "what they do" and I don't know why this is the focus. The focus should be on people as "who they are."
This area is probably one where I feel emotional right now. I read the overall e-mail and also read Lorena's responses. I think to myself that you are the people I grew up with and who know me and yet would consciously make a decision to deny me life, liberty & the pursuit of happiness. It's perplexing. It hurts. Even a convicted murderer locked in a cell has the right to be married, but I cannot. I participated in your own wedding ceremony, the same or similar type of committment is somehow not good enough for me. I'm not even interested in having God involved--all I want is to be legally recognized by the government. (Short of moving to Vermont)
>Plus, it seems that SO MUCH of the gay lifestyle revolves around sex. If
>this is just a misperception then I apologize. However, just as
>heterosexual parents should refrain from sexual interactions and dialogue
>around their children I would hope that homosexual parents and their friends
>would do the same.
Who's talking about sex to their children? This parenting creedo goes without saying in my mind. That's just proper parenting. Limits & boundaries. Whem my sister was seven years old, my mother didn't say, "Sarah, Jeremy has sex with other boys." My mom said, "Some boys love girls and some boys love boys." End of story.
I've heard this perception that "gay lifestyle" revolves around sex and that homosexuals are all promiscuous individuals....for the sake of argument, if this were true, than wouldn't it be desirable to allow these individuals to marry so that they would be held to the committment of that union? This would seem to make sense, and yet the same people I see making accusations of promiscuity are the ones that also would deny me the right to marry. Catch 22.
I don't think homosexuals have the market cornered on promiscuity. If we're only 10% (or less) of the population, and even if every single one of us was promiscuous, that leaves 90% of the rest of the population that face cheating in their marriages. The national average of 40+% of marriages ending in divorce--I don't see gay people contributing to this problem. The plain and simple truth as I see it is that there are liars and cheets in straight relationships and there are the same in gay ones. There are sluts & whores and gigalos in every walk of life. That's just human, no more, no less.
>While we are on the subject... something that has ALWAYS bothered me about
>"the gay population" is that you want us "the other population" to believe
>that you are "just like us", "just regular people" yet you are constantly
>singling yourselves out. "Gay Pride" and all that.
I see all of these red, white & blue stickers on the backs of people's vehicles since 9/11 that say "Together We Stand," "United We Stand, " and "Power of Pride." There is truth in this. When a group of people are together, there is strength. When you're persecuted, oppressed and attacked, you better believe that people are going to band together to find others that can relate to them.
Lorena may know this statistic better than I, but the last time I read something on teen suicide rates, 30% of teen suicides are kids who are dealing with their sexual identity. (The information I read based this on the suicide notes left behind that stated this issue) Why do we need pride parades? Because thousands of children, year after year, are growing up in homes where parents make derogatory comments toward LGBT and/or teach their children a religious faith that makes them feel ashamed of who they are. If a child in a school was being teased because they were African-American or Asian, they could go home and confide in their parents this information. A gay or lesbian youth does not always have that same protective environment to confide in and so they are isolated and alone. (Although I may have had other issues with my Mother, I'm thankful that I never had to worry about whether she would accept me as being gay.) Gay pride parades are that one day a year where people of a local community can identify with other people like them--to know that they aren't the only people in the world and to not worry about what might be said about them in public.
As for being "regular people," I think what is meant is this: we're born, goto school, goto work, pay taxes, pay bills, consume products, love other people, make mistakes, breathe and die like everyone else. We're regular people. Treat us with the dignity & respect and rights as everyone else.
>And as far as the
>sexual deviants and perverts perception- the gay pride parades look like a
>sexual deviants and pervert's circus. Where are the regular joe's? Why is
>everything an extreme?
Regular Joe's don't see airtime. Regular joes don't sell magazines & newspapers. Have you ever been to a Gay Pride Parade? Although it's been a few years for me, I'd be glad to go with you sometime so you can see the "real" picture and not the 15 second TV sound bite. The "extreme" factions that march are about maybe a tenth of the total parade. Sure, they're going to be focused in on because it's different.
When is the last time that Jenny Jones or Ricki Lake had everyday average working moms on their show? Jerry Springer? (And yes, I know I'm naming sensational talk shows, but even Oprah doesn't have the majority of her airtime devoted to ordinary housewives or ordinary stay at home dads.)
>They preach they are just like everyone else- yet
>they prance around in more make-up than Tammy Faye acting stupid! Is that
>truly who you want to represent you? Maybe you can explain to me the
>thought process behind the whole "drag queen" thing? Guys dressed like
>women- but dressed worse than even the trashiest hooker. If they truly feel
>like women inside- then why not look like a NORMAL woman?
Again, drag queens are a part of the overall LGBT community. They no more represent me than I represent them. I'm 1/2 Filipino, but that doesn't mean that I represent a typical Filipino-American..hahaha..for by all means I've been completely white-washed. Regardless of whether I want a drag queen to represent me or not, the rights I'm talking about should be just as much theirs as they should be mine, not just yours alone.
-j.r.me
=====================================
Kim,
I do thank you for your honest responses. Part of the on-going education I provide here in Orange County is speaking in front of students when invited for Human Sexuality courses in colleges/universities and in high school diversity or tolerance weeks so I'm happy to answer your questions as they're ones I've heard many times before.
I've learned that there are as many misunderstanding and misconceptions about LGBT. Probably as many as I would have about relations and struggles in the Middle East. I'm not a part of that community, nor do the issues there mean anything to me personally. I'm completely ignorant of the strifes & struggles about why certain people want one thing and others another. It would either take me having a personal stake in the matter or a desire to want to educate myself to really know anything about the Middle East and the same holds true for LGBT issues.
There can be no change without dialogue, so I really do appreciate you sharing your thoughts. Now, my responses...((And I know how hard it is to interpret intent, inflection, tone, etc in e-mail communication, so I'll just say now that I wrote all of the following being level-headed, calm and in a way that was simply reading and responding. I hope that my words came out that way.))
>First before I answer I would like to know for what purpose are you pursuing
>this legislation? Is it for equal benefit rights? Or to make a statement
>that LGBT relationships are the same as any other type of relationship?
For me, this issue is all about equal rights. It's about not having to live as a 2nd class citizen. This would mean civil rights & benefit rights. Please correct me if you meant something different, but when I see the word "benefits" I immediately think of health benefits (medical, dental, vision) These are things that I already have in working for a company that provides same sex benefits.
In this country we have a separation of Church & State. For me, this means that regardless of what one believes religiously, the State still has an obligation to provide the same legal protections & allowances as any other person. What of the agnostic, aetheist or simply those that don't practice any faith? What of the Bhuddist, whose religion doesn't discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation? My discussions are purely relating to the State and the civil rights afforded by same.
EXAMPLE 1:
1) Heterosexual couple "married" for 15 years. One Spouse dies.
2) LGBT couple "married" for 15 years. One Spouse dies.
Civil Rights.....In couple #1, the surviving spouse automatically assumes control over property, money, benefits, etc. Custody of your children is automatically transferred. If the couple is retired, the social security benefits are automatically transferred. These are just a few of the common, tip of the iceberg civil rights that you probably take for granted. In couple #2, none of these things are transferred.
EXAMPLE 2:
Same couples above, this time no death, but one spouse is in a coma in the hospital.
Civil Rights...as a heterosexual married couple you legally have the right to make any life/death decisions on the part of your spouse. Do you keep them on life support? What course of treatment do you go with? Your spouses mother/father or other family cannot make those decisions---You have that right. In the LGBT couple, depending on the State one lives in, the spouse may have no decision and perhaps not be allowed even in the hospital room. The immediately family of the person in the coma has the right to make decisions about their health.
In these examples, the basic point is that what makes one relationship any less valid in the eyes of the State?
>I would hope that they parents whomever
>they are would not force one lifestyle or another on the child. Now in that
>light- I will raise my kids with the morals that I carry and that includes
>loving everyone no matter who they are or who they choose to love. My child
>can then make the decisions that they wish. I do believe that homosexuality
>is a choice. Just as having sex outside of marriage is. I would hope that
>I raise my child to make the right decisions, but in the end the decision is
>still theirs and I will love them no matter what.
If one's sexual orientation is a choice, when did you choose your heterosexuality? It sounds like an absurd question, but seriously, when did you say to yourself, "Today I'm going to be a heterosexual.?" Most people I've talked to didn't choose to be straight---they just are. The same would hold true for me.
When it comes to choice, there is behavior and there is orientation. Choosing to have sex outside of marriage is a behavior. Inmates in prison choose to have sex with other men. This is a behavior---it does not mean that the inmates sexual orientaion is homosexual, it only means that they are choosing to engage in homosexual acts. Sexual orientation is not a choice. The natural attraction of Who turns your head, that instinct, that flutter in your heart, sweatiness of the palms being around someone---that is not something you choose. ((Or at least I don't remember choosing it.))
When you met your husband, you made a choice to share your life and you constatntly make choices in your relationship, but did you choose to love like you would choose what outfit to wear? When having your children, did you have to choose to love them or did that come naturally? COULD YOU CHOOSE *NOT* TO LOVE YOUR CHILD? You see, my point is that there are things that you feel without making a choice to feel them. Who turns my head is not a choice. Now, to act on those feelings---that behavior is a choice.
>Now- how do I feel about same sex partners mothering and fathering kids for each other. Don't like it. I think they should adopt. Then again I don't
>believe in surrogating for anyone.
Okay, so it's okay for same sex mothers/fathers to adopt & raise kids as long as it's not biologically their own? This does not make any sense to me, could you please explain?
For myself, my personal philosophy is that there are plenty of abandon & unwanted children in this world so adoption would be the choice for me, but shouldn't preclude someone else's right to father or mother their own children.
And if it's okay to adopt, wouldn't it be more beneficial for the child to know they are raised in a family that is sanctioned by the State in a marriage? With a heterosexual couple, when two people have a child and are not married, they are said to have the child out of wedlock... a bastard child. We (society) look at a couple who is married as being somehow more socially acceptable to raise a child. So if it's okay for a same sex couple to adopt, then why penalize the innocent child by not allowing its parents to marry?
>My problem with the LGBT lifestyle and how I have to explain it to my kids
>is the way that it is portrayed in the media.
The media...is the media. It will always be sensationalized in such a way that it can sell sell sell. If we're talking media, there is plenty of trash on TV period, regardless of the subject matter. It's a simple choice to turn the TV off and/or monitor what your children are watching.
>Even shows that are suppose
>to be "gay friendly" I think portray the gay lifestyle in a very unfriendly
>manner. The general public concern is that "all" gay people are perverts
>and sexual deviants. Then you have shows like "queer as folk" that I think
>only emphasize that even more. The show has a VERY strong and sometimes in
>my opinion "perverse" sexual content and spends more time on the sexual
>escapades than on the relationships and friendships of the characters.
LOL. Well, I commend you on having watched QAF, although I'd hardly use that as a template for the typical gay "lifestyle." Think of it this way.....If I went to a straight club and watched the interactions of people in this dance environment and walked away thinking that this was how all people met, in a club/bar while drinking, doing drugs, etc.... would I be right to make that assumption? If I went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans and saw all of these straight people yelling & screaming and celebrating, is that how most people in this country live their lives everyday? It's all in context.
I look at QAF specifically as entertainment, nothing more. Groundbreaking in as much as a show such as it has never been aired in the United States before, but I can guarantee that my life has never been so exciting, dramatic, pathetic or explicit. But that's the point of entertainment in my eyes.
>When
>a show like "sex and the city" which has sex it's name, talks a lot about
>sex but in the relationship factor.
The character, Samantha has sex with a different person in almost every episode. This is flattering? Even when she had a pseudo-relationship with Richard, the emphasis was always on the sex. Again, I watch this show for entertainment, but having never been to New York myself, I would not assume that the lives of these four women are typical female lives in New York... it's just fun to watch.
Also, this brings up the differences between men & women. Sex In The City is a female oriented show, focusing on talking about relationships. Get all of your husbands together and are they going to bare their souls like these women do in conversation? No. The typical male just doesn't do that. In Queer As Folk, the audience is for men primarily. Regardless of whether we're talking straight or gay men.....sex is something that men talk about in terms of their conquests & escapades as if they were achievements rather than their emotional state of mind or their relationships.
>For example, "queer as folk" how many
>times have there been scenes with that one guy and all the porn and the porn
>shots going on in the background and all of that. If you have a non-gay
>friendly person channel surfing and they flip through that- what do they
>think- THOSE DAMN GAY PERVERTS! The sex is never in a portrayed in a
>"normal" light- it is always in the extreme!
If I was channel surfing and came across any number of cable stations I could form an uneducated opinion. There are plenty of movies that are not mainstream media that portray something "normal." I don't suspect though that someone who is "non-gay friendly" is going to be any more friendly by seeing "normal" gay sex as opposed to "extreme."
I find it strange that we're even on the topic of sex. All I was originally talking about was securing equal civil rights---marriage and/or a civil union. My sex life, your sex life--anyone's sex life is something private that isn't being discussed here. What we're talking about are people's right to legally solidfy their committment to each other and receive the benefits of that union.
>Now I know "Will and Grace" is
>prime time programming, but still this shows emphasizes the relationships of
>the characters with a little sex thrown in- but still shows them in a more
>positive light. I would have no problem letting my child when they are of
>age watch "Will and Grace".
I don't even watch Will & Grace. hahaha Again, this is entertainment. Will & Grace is a sit-com on a public TV station. QAF is on a pay service cable channel.
>Homosexuality is not going to just go away. I
>want my kids to embrace the "people" no different than anyone else. You
>don't have to like what they do- but they are people like you and me none
>the less.
And you can't treat them as any less than people or deny them any less rights than other people. Again, I read things like "what they do" and I don't know why this is the focus. The focus should be on people as "who they are."
This area is probably one where I feel emotional right now. I read the overall e-mail and also read Lorena's responses. I think to myself that you are the people I grew up with and who know me and yet would consciously make a decision to deny me life, liberty & the pursuit of happiness. It's perplexing. It hurts. Even a convicted murderer locked in a cell has the right to be married, but I cannot. I participated in your own wedding ceremony, the same or similar type of committment is somehow not good enough for me. I'm not even interested in having God involved--all I want is to be legally recognized by the government. (Short of moving to Vermont)
>Plus, it seems that SO MUCH of the gay lifestyle revolves around sex. If
>this is just a misperception then I apologize. However, just as
>heterosexual parents should refrain from sexual interactions and dialogue
>around their children I would hope that homosexual parents and their friends
>would do the same.
Who's talking about sex to their children? This parenting creedo goes without saying in my mind. That's just proper parenting. Limits & boundaries. Whem my sister was seven years old, my mother didn't say, "Sarah, Jeremy has sex with other boys." My mom said, "Some boys love girls and some boys love boys." End of story.
I've heard this perception that "gay lifestyle" revolves around sex and that homosexuals are all promiscuous individuals....for the sake of argument, if this were true, than wouldn't it be desirable to allow these individuals to marry so that they would be held to the committment of that union? This would seem to make sense, and yet the same people I see making accusations of promiscuity are the ones that also would deny me the right to marry. Catch 22.
I don't think homosexuals have the market cornered on promiscuity. If we're only 10% (or less) of the population, and even if every single one of us was promiscuous, that leaves 90% of the rest of the population that face cheating in their marriages. The national average of 40+% of marriages ending in divorce--I don't see gay people contributing to this problem. The plain and simple truth as I see it is that there are liars and cheets in straight relationships and there are the same in gay ones. There are sluts & whores and gigalos in every walk of life. That's just human, no more, no less.
>While we are on the subject... something that has ALWAYS bothered me about
>"the gay population" is that you want us "the other population" to believe
>that you are "just like us", "just regular people" yet you are constantly
>singling yourselves out. "Gay Pride" and all that.
I see all of these red, white & blue stickers on the backs of people's vehicles since 9/11 that say "Together We Stand," "United We Stand, " and "Power of Pride." There is truth in this. When a group of people are together, there is strength. When you're persecuted, oppressed and attacked, you better believe that people are going to band together to find others that can relate to them.
Lorena may know this statistic better than I, but the last time I read something on teen suicide rates, 30% of teen suicides are kids who are dealing with their sexual identity. (The information I read based this on the suicide notes left behind that stated this issue) Why do we need pride parades? Because thousands of children, year after year, are growing up in homes where parents make derogatory comments toward LGBT and/or teach their children a religious faith that makes them feel ashamed of who they are. If a child in a school was being teased because they were African-American or Asian, they could go home and confide in their parents this information. A gay or lesbian youth does not always have that same protective environment to confide in and so they are isolated and alone. (Although I may have had other issues with my Mother, I'm thankful that I never had to worry about whether she would accept me as being gay.) Gay pride parades are that one day a year where people of a local community can identify with other people like them--to know that they aren't the only people in the world and to not worry about what might be said about them in public.
As for being "regular people," I think what is meant is this: we're born, goto school, goto work, pay taxes, pay bills, consume products, love other people, make mistakes, breathe and die like everyone else. We're regular people. Treat us with the dignity & respect and rights as everyone else.
>And as far as the
>sexual deviants and perverts perception- the gay pride parades look like a
>sexual deviants and pervert's circus. Where are the regular joe's? Why is
>everything an extreme?
Regular Joe's don't see airtime. Regular joes don't sell magazines & newspapers. Have you ever been to a Gay Pride Parade? Although it's been a few years for me, I'd be glad to go with you sometime so you can see the "real" picture and not the 15 second TV sound bite. The "extreme" factions that march are about maybe a tenth of the total parade. Sure, they're going to be focused in on because it's different.
When is the last time that Jenny Jones or Ricki Lake had everyday average working moms on their show? Jerry Springer? (And yes, I know I'm naming sensational talk shows, but even Oprah doesn't have the majority of her airtime devoted to ordinary housewives or ordinary stay at home dads.)
>They preach they are just like everyone else- yet
>they prance around in more make-up than Tammy Faye acting stupid! Is that
>truly who you want to represent you? Maybe you can explain to me the
>thought process behind the whole "drag queen" thing? Guys dressed like
>women- but dressed worse than even the trashiest hooker. If they truly feel
>like women inside- then why not look like a NORMAL woman?
Again, drag queens are a part of the overall LGBT community. They no more represent me than I represent them. I'm 1/2 Filipino, but that doesn't mean that I represent a typical Filipino-American..hahaha..for by all means I've been completely white-washed. Regardless of whether I want a drag queen to represent me or not, the rights I'm talking about should be just as much theirs as they should be mine, not just yours alone.
Thursday, November 21, 2002
Believe me, It's true
Who takes care of me? Yeah...it sounds a wee bit selfish, but I've been thinking about it the past few days. There are times when I don't feel like being strong or decisive. I don't want to know the answer. I can't think to formulate an opinion. I want to sigh and retreat into someone else. These moments are brief, but they exist and I feel like they are never appeased.
I don't ask for help. I rely on the intuitive powers of those around me. I could make a shirt. "Ask me how I am." I think the common responses would be "fine" and "okay." Maybe.
It's not like I've had parents that could do this for me. The units of my family have never provided this need and have helped to cause distrust in letting other "adult" type people provide. Distrust is a word used lightly. It's also a sentiment that is in conflict with another part of me that leaves my doors unlocked and my windows down in my car when I go into the store. It's like I am drawn naturally to behave in one manner, but I have been taught something entirely different. Experience really is a mother fuck.
Randy has Metroid Prime on the cube and it's everything he'd hoped and more. I like watching. I can fall asleep apparently.
I don't ask for help. I rely on the intuitive powers of those around me. I could make a shirt. "Ask me how I am." I think the common responses would be "fine" and "okay." Maybe.
It's not like I've had parents that could do this for me. The units of my family have never provided this need and have helped to cause distrust in letting other "adult" type people provide. Distrust is a word used lightly. It's also a sentiment that is in conflict with another part of me that leaves my doors unlocked and my windows down in my car when I go into the store. It's like I am drawn naturally to behave in one manner, but I have been taught something entirely different. Experience really is a mother fuck.
Randy has Metroid Prime on the cube and it's everything he'd hoped and more. I like watching. I can fall asleep apparently.
Monday, November 11, 2002
Quirky Sidewalks 1.0
Copying material from word doc to here so I can have it handy on the web to edit and make changes... 'cause I'm too damn lazy to get a disk to put it on and transport it around.
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Quirky Sidewalks
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CHAPTER ONE======
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I make it a point to see my doctor at least once a month. Most people only go to the doctor if they think they’re sick which is completely the wrong way to go about it. If a doctor only examines you when at your worst, what do they have to compare to? What controlled example of your healthy self do they have? I figured this out in high school and with the exception of a few pesky vacations (taken by my doctors, not by me) I haven’t missed a month since.
“Do you have a rectal thermometer?” Staring at the large piece of equipment she was about to stick in my ear.
“A rectal thermometer?” she managed to get out of her mouth, displaying a quizzical expression. I thought for sure she knew what I was talking about but then realized by the look on her face that she hadn’t read my medical file. She was new to the office. In all my months at this office I had never seen her before. It wasn’t a good first impression that she hadn’t read the file. It made me want to be ugly toward her.
“Yes, a rectal THER-mo-METER. I don’t like things being stuck in my ear.” I began miming a circle with the thumb and index finger of my left hand, holding it out in front of me while using the index and middle finger of my right hand to push up through the bottom of the circle. “Rectal. You know. Up the butt.” She seemed thoroughly disgusted with my simple—yet crude—description and I knew that my work had been done. As I was about to further clarify the doctor walked into the room without knocking. (This one never knocked)
Doctor Gillian was probably in his early 60’s. It’s possible he was older than that, but the exquisite rows of hair transplants made the exact number hard to guess. If it weren’t for the age lines around his eyes, mouth, nose, forehead, neck and hands, I’d never know he was in his 60’s. I was referred to Dr. Gillian when my previous doctor, Dr. Bay, decided to retire early. He had been my fifth doctor in two years to retire early. Strange. Dr. Gillian had been my doctor now for the past year. I liked him because he was quirky. He had a peculiar way of breathing heavy while you were speaking. The breathing got louder when acknowledging symptoms; shallow when he looked down to write something in my file. Most people don’t like quirky in a doctor, but I think it’s an absolute requirement. I don’t trust anyone that is too confident—too perfect.
I didn’t know if I was going to be able to adapt to the not knocking on the door before walking in. The first office visit I let it go. The second visit it really bothered me so on the third visit I decided to make a game out of it. After the nurse left the room, I would turn the lights out then sit down on a chair and not the examining table. When he asked why the lights were turned off I told him I didn’t know why the nurse turned them off.
“That will be all, Bernice. I’ll take care of things from here.” Dr. Gillian took my file from her and began to sit down. I wouldn’t have thought her to be a Bernice. She struck me as a Kitty or Kathy. I’m usually very good at names. She glanced over at me before turning to leave. It was only a millisecond but I knew she thought I was crazy. I had done well.
“She didn’t read my file, Dr. G.”
“What are you in for today, Mack?” He called me, Mack, because that’s the name that I had put on my patient information sheet when I started with him. Going through so many doctors, it became monotonous putting my real information each time. What do they need to know your real name for? A name is only something that we use to put a placeholder in our brains with someone’s face. Mack was the first name that came to mind when I had to fill out paperwork for Dr. Gillian’s office. It was the name of the star in the last porn that I rented the day before starting with Dr. Gillian. Mack Packer. (Of course I changed the last name on the patient information sheet. I didn’t want them to think that it was a fake name or anything.)
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Quirky Sidewalks
================
================
CHAPTER ONE======
================
I make it a point to see my doctor at least once a month. Most people only go to the doctor if they think they’re sick which is completely the wrong way to go about it. If a doctor only examines you when at your worst, what do they have to compare to? What controlled example of your healthy self do they have? I figured this out in high school and with the exception of a few pesky vacations (taken by my doctors, not by me) I haven’t missed a month since.
“Do you have a rectal thermometer?” Staring at the large piece of equipment she was about to stick in my ear.
“A rectal thermometer?” she managed to get out of her mouth, displaying a quizzical expression. I thought for sure she knew what I was talking about but then realized by the look on her face that she hadn’t read my medical file. She was new to the office. In all my months at this office I had never seen her before. It wasn’t a good first impression that she hadn’t read the file. It made me want to be ugly toward her.
“Yes, a rectal THER-mo-METER. I don’t like things being stuck in my ear.” I began miming a circle with the thumb and index finger of my left hand, holding it out in front of me while using the index and middle finger of my right hand to push up through the bottom of the circle. “Rectal. You know. Up the butt.” She seemed thoroughly disgusted with my simple—yet crude—description and I knew that my work had been done. As I was about to further clarify the doctor walked into the room without knocking. (This one never knocked)
Doctor Gillian was probably in his early 60’s. It’s possible he was older than that, but the exquisite rows of hair transplants made the exact number hard to guess. If it weren’t for the age lines around his eyes, mouth, nose, forehead, neck and hands, I’d never know he was in his 60’s. I was referred to Dr. Gillian when my previous doctor, Dr. Bay, decided to retire early. He had been my fifth doctor in two years to retire early. Strange. Dr. Gillian had been my doctor now for the past year. I liked him because he was quirky. He had a peculiar way of breathing heavy while you were speaking. The breathing got louder when acknowledging symptoms; shallow when he looked down to write something in my file. Most people don’t like quirky in a doctor, but I think it’s an absolute requirement. I don’t trust anyone that is too confident—too perfect.
I didn’t know if I was going to be able to adapt to the not knocking on the door before walking in. The first office visit I let it go. The second visit it really bothered me so on the third visit I decided to make a game out of it. After the nurse left the room, I would turn the lights out then sit down on a chair and not the examining table. When he asked why the lights were turned off I told him I didn’t know why the nurse turned them off.
“That will be all, Bernice. I’ll take care of things from here.” Dr. Gillian took my file from her and began to sit down. I wouldn’t have thought her to be a Bernice. She struck me as a Kitty or Kathy. I’m usually very good at names. She glanced over at me before turning to leave. It was only a millisecond but I knew she thought I was crazy. I had done well.
“She didn’t read my file, Dr. G.”
“What are you in for today, Mack?” He called me, Mack, because that’s the name that I had put on my patient information sheet when I started with him. Going through so many doctors, it became monotonous putting my real information each time. What do they need to know your real name for? A name is only something that we use to put a placeholder in our brains with someone’s face. Mack was the first name that came to mind when I had to fill out paperwork for Dr. Gillian’s office. It was the name of the star in the last porn that I rented the day before starting with Dr. Gillian. Mack Packer. (Of course I changed the last name on the patient information sheet. I didn’t want them to think that it was a fake name or anything.)
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Saturday, November 02, 2002
prayer
The very thing that I wanted as a child may be developing. Hum drum. Mediocrity.
The people I work with. The environment is not academic. The soaring heights are not over matters of the heart, mind or soul. Money.
"You can be anything you want to be."
The people I work with. The environment is not academic. The soaring heights are not over matters of the heart, mind or soul. Money.
"You can be anything you want to be."
Friday, October 18, 2002
Pieces of Me
This car accident thing happend on Tuesday. What a way to spend your day off of work. All I wanted was the laundry to be done so that I could walk--unobstructed--to the bathroom. The carpet in the bedroom is so clean because it's had a protective layer of clothing for most of the many months we've lived here.****How do the dots of fate connect? Tuesday I was supposed to be working. Kristi & Jonathan got married because they met through DanceSafe. Would their paths have crossed had the chapter not been? I don't know the answers to these ponderings, but I do know that I'm driving a Dodge Neon instead of my Integra. Hmph!****Six months before time starts falling off my record at work. :::sigh:::****Haircut time****Tomorrow I'm looking forward to an afternoon at Art's condo laying video games and relaxing. My first Saturday off in a string.****Before the accident, I was listening to Jewel's "Pieces of You" album. I had never listened to it before and some of the songs were quite sad. One was about a couple growing old together, their love, their bond. I realized that besides my grandmother, I've never had to deal with the loss of another person. I've never had anyone that close to me before. I thought of Randy and instantly I was in tears. It was a cry that I hadn't had in a long while and needed. I felt better afterward and was in high spirits when the accident occurred. The other party's lack of acceptance of liability is disheartening. It's the darkening of the outline to a picture I don't like seeing.****I was just placed on hold while helping a rep and the hold music was from CUSCO. I recognized it immediately from one of their albums that I own. (Or used to) I was evening-dreaming of how I'm impatient and how that works in my realtionship with Randy; how that will work in the future. Going places, wanting to experience new things like travel, shows, driving with the top down and I don't have a top to put down.****Old man in my head. When does he stop fishing?****I think my veins are coming more to the surface of my skin. Maybe my skin is just not as dark anymore.****yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn... but not when I get home. Then I'm awake. My brain becomes mush and maybe it's because I prayed so hard for it when I was younger.****2hrs more of working.
Tuesday, September 24, 2002
I heart you
Lack of will or desire. The clock says 4:44. It means something. Nothing at all. Any moment he'll walk through that door in front of me.
And so he does. Love.
And so he does. Love.
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
Kim's Letter
Mom came home early. VERY EARLY. I've been up since 5:30am because of the noise created when she arrived home.
I've decided to use my writing time today to respond to an e-mail from Kim. Here we go:
==========================
How cute. Adorable. Darling. Have you heard all of these descriptors in response to your children's pictures? I remember a time when we would make fun of people who doted on their kids in such a way, but it's an obvious inevitability when you love children so much. ((By the way, I do think the pictures have been precious. Please keep them coming.))
Were you getting postcards in the mail right up until a few days before the 10yr reunion? When I got mine I wondered what the turnout was going to be like if they were still advertising that late. Do you know of anyone who went? I've heard nothing about the Queen Mary rendezvous. Did anyone drown? Maybe I should e-mail Margaret for a re-cap.
I'm actually writing you from the "writing lab" here at school. I'm getting .5 units for spending 16 hours in here this semester. I originally signed up because my English professor was giving 1/2 a grade add-on for any papers that we wrote while "conferencing" with one of the writing lab instructors. I've subsequently dropped the English class, but the focused time alone here is nice for catching up on e-mail, keeping my journal entries and working on short stories, novel chapters, poetry. My writing still goes in spurts; nothing regularly produced. I've been meaning to write ever since the birth announcement. VOILA! Here it is. And I find myself wondering what I'm typing.
I think my delay has been that I'm never one for small talk. We had a small party at the apartment about a month ago and there were a lot of people who showed up that I didn't know. Randy is good at being social and "working the crowd" so to speak, whereas I'm keeping this partial fake smile on my face and nodding while I listen to inane details of their day. My anti-social veneer is more prevalent here at school. I have a morning class so most of the people are just coming out of high school. The conversations that I overhear! I know I'm old because I have that thought, "Did I talk like that when I was THAT age?" And it doesn't feel like that long ago to me. My mom says that it never will. She turns 50 this year and she expressed how even though she can see a difference in the mirror, inside she still feels young. So perhaps I'll always be a cynic inside. Always a little dreamer. Always part smart-ass.
So as we grow older, do you find that common "adult" conversations center around:
1) kids (or pets if people don't have kids)
2) careers
3) money (credit cards, home loans, buying homes, refinancing,cars, bikes boats...etc)
4) health (doctor visits, diseases, "that something that is going-around-the-office)
I can't escape one of these conversations in a day----OH, unless I partake in one that the 18yr olds are having here in class. Haha. But somehow the importance of regular jeans or faded jeans never really hit me as something I'd want to talk about. ((And still don't)) I came back to school to keep plugging away at and some where get up to near 120 units. I have 24. =) I'll have 29.5 at the end of this semester. Typing that right now even made a smile go across my face as I'm typing. It's funny how little I've done with education and how "full of promise" I was when receiving a high school diploma. I was discussing careers with Randy and I don't think there's anything that I WANT to do for any long period of time. I fear that teaching may be the same way. ((The running joke now is that by the time I get my B.A. I'll be retired and teaching will be something I do in my spare time.)) I took my CBEST test in April and passed. It was a joke. I haven't had a math class since Junior year with Ledvorowski and I'm taking College Alegebra right now. It's a M-Th class. I show up once a week just to let the professor know I'm still there and the material all feels like review. It's amazing what I remember. And each time I remember, I still have that secondary thought, "WHEN IN REAL LIFE AM I EVER GOING TO USE THIS SHIT?!" I think having experienced 10 years of real life now I'm justified whereas in high school I was just bewildered with the prospect of more homework.
Rant rant rant...
I hope you're staying healthy(4) and that your kids are well(1). When do you go back to work(2)? Back already? Hmm....I didn't ask about money(3), but some people are weird about that stuff, I've learned. ((So it's impolite to ask...))
SERIOUSLY. You stay in my thoughts. I'm glad you're doing well.
love ALL-ways,
j.r.me
I've decided to use my writing time today to respond to an e-mail from Kim. Here we go:
==========================
How cute. Adorable. Darling. Have you heard all of these descriptors in response to your children's pictures? I remember a time when we would make fun of people who doted on their kids in such a way, but it's an obvious inevitability when you love children so much. ((By the way, I do think the pictures have been precious. Please keep them coming.))
Were you getting postcards in the mail right up until a few days before the 10yr reunion? When I got mine I wondered what the turnout was going to be like if they were still advertising that late. Do you know of anyone who went? I've heard nothing about the Queen Mary rendezvous. Did anyone drown? Maybe I should e-mail Margaret for a re-cap.
I'm actually writing you from the "writing lab" here at school. I'm getting .5 units for spending 16 hours in here this semester. I originally signed up because my English professor was giving 1/2 a grade add-on for any papers that we wrote while "conferencing" with one of the writing lab instructors. I've subsequently dropped the English class, but the focused time alone here is nice for catching up on e-mail, keeping my journal entries and working on short stories, novel chapters, poetry. My writing still goes in spurts; nothing regularly produced. I've been meaning to write ever since the birth announcement. VOILA! Here it is. And I find myself wondering what I'm typing.
I think my delay has been that I'm never one for small talk. We had a small party at the apartment about a month ago and there were a lot of people who showed up that I didn't know. Randy is good at being social and "working the crowd" so to speak, whereas I'm keeping this partial fake smile on my face and nodding while I listen to inane details of their day. My anti-social veneer is more prevalent here at school. I have a morning class so most of the people are just coming out of high school. The conversations that I overhear! I know I'm old because I have that thought, "Did I talk like that when I was THAT age?" And it doesn't feel like that long ago to me. My mom says that it never will. She turns 50 this year and she expressed how even though she can see a difference in the mirror, inside she still feels young. So perhaps I'll always be a cynic inside. Always a little dreamer. Always part smart-ass.
So as we grow older, do you find that common "adult" conversations center around:
1) kids (or pets if people don't have kids)
2) careers
3) money (credit cards, home loans, buying homes, refinancing,cars, bikes boats...etc)
4) health (doctor visits, diseases, "that something that is going-around-the-office)
I can't escape one of these conversations in a day----OH, unless I partake in one that the 18yr olds are having here in class. Haha. But somehow the importance of regular jeans or faded jeans never really hit me as something I'd want to talk about. ((And still don't)) I came back to school to keep plugging away at and some where get up to near 120 units. I have 24. =) I'll have 29.5 at the end of this semester. Typing that right now even made a smile go across my face as I'm typing. It's funny how little I've done with education and how "full of promise" I was when receiving a high school diploma. I was discussing careers with Randy and I don't think there's anything that I WANT to do for any long period of time. I fear that teaching may be the same way. ((The running joke now is that by the time I get my B.A. I'll be retired and teaching will be something I do in my spare time.)) I took my CBEST test in April and passed. It was a joke. I haven't had a math class since Junior year with Ledvorowski and I'm taking College Alegebra right now. It's a M-Th class. I show up once a week just to let the professor know I'm still there and the material all feels like review. It's amazing what I remember. And each time I remember, I still have that secondary thought, "WHEN IN REAL LIFE AM I EVER GOING TO USE THIS SHIT?!" I think having experienced 10 years of real life now I'm justified whereas in high school I was just bewildered with the prospect of more homework.
Rant rant rant...
I hope you're staying healthy(4) and that your kids are well(1). When do you go back to work(2)? Back already? Hmm....I didn't ask about money(3), but some people are weird about that stuff, I've learned. ((So it's impolite to ask...))
SERIOUSLY. You stay in my thoughts. I'm glad you're doing well.
love ALL-ways,
j.r.me
Thursday, September 12, 2002
Writing Lab 1
***here's laughter. I just spent the last 20 minutes writing an entry and knew I hadn't saved it when I clicked on EDIT YOUR PROFILE. I could kick myself***
I enrolled in this "Writing Conference" class. You put in 16 hours of "conference" time at this lab I'm sitting in and the school rewards you with .5units and the word PASS on your transcript. You don't even have to actually "conference" with an instructor--as proven by this solitary act of using the online computers to journal my thoughts. I originally enrolled because my English instructor noted anyone taking the conference class and using the tools/instructors to write an essay would get 1/2 grade higher on any paper turned in. It turns out that I didn't want to READ & WRITE this semester so I dropped the English class but I kept this one. Part of me figures that it's a good opportunity to try and focus on some of my own writing projects. Will I?
In the last week, I wrote two more songs for Closer To Legal, "Darwin" and "That Way." That brings the total up to three, four if I can work the you last entry into something workable. Is this another dream of mine that will never drip ripe its fruition? I dare not quash the small endeavors that keep my fire alive inside. SAVE POINT UNO (I'm getting smart this time.) Randy & I are staying at my mom's house until next Wednesday. She and Jim have driven up to Seattle to visit Grandpa & Grandma Jean. Sarah is in her second week of high school. A Freshman. So grown up, so young still. She has so much insecurity and yet I can see the woman beginning to form opinions with her Hot Topic t-shirt reading "Prom Is Dumb" and her star shot shoelaces. It's nice having a washer/dryer so accessible. I miss this part of domestic living. I don't miss the clutter that my mom seems to collect everywhere. I don't miss the animals and the hair they leave everywhere, nor cleaning up the "messes" they make. It will be a different week for us and I'm sure we'll both be glad to be in our own bed just as fast as we can. Yesterday I took Sarah to a doctor appointment. Randy accompanied us. I liked that hey came. We grow more and more domestic as the months pass. Soon my birthday will be here and two years will have graced us. (As we gracefully fell back to the arms of grace--haha) We all walked into the waiting room of the doctor's office and found it to be quite full. Noise. Kids running. Noise. Parents calling. Noise. Nurses calling. Noise noise noise noise. I want kids? We sat down and there was the table in front of us with magazines, kiddie books. A man was talking to a little girl on the other side of the table. It wasn't odd at first, but I noticed that he had his feet on the table, elevated, resting, as if it were an ottoman(sp?) at home. When I glanced again, I could see that he wasn't wearing any shoes and his bare feet were on the magazines AND one foot wasn't regular color. It was Orange with green spots. I looked at Randy and psychically we exchanged the same thought. (His was auidbly louder than mine.) Sarah soon saw and was trying not to laugh. The man and girl eventually left. We began talking about it and laughed. I picked up the magazine that his foot was resting on and put it on Randy's lap. With no volume control, his immediate reaction was, "JESUS CHRIST! His foot was on that." Sarah and I laughed like only siblings or great friends can. SAVE POINT DOS On the way over to this lab/center, I passed the main courtyard and the mobile coffehouse cart. In the year that I've been coming here the cart has never been worked by anything other than boys. Not just boys but ONLY CUTE BOYS. I have concluded that the owner of the coffeshop is gay and he hand picks the boys to staff the cart. I KNOW this. =) Now I'll let this fantasy play out for a while and then maybe share it with Bobby at some point where we will mutually figure out the truth. My time has ended. Two hours down, 14 more to go. Ahh....where will the semester take me?
I enrolled in this "Writing Conference" class. You put in 16 hours of "conference" time at this lab I'm sitting in and the school rewards you with .5units and the word PASS on your transcript. You don't even have to actually "conference" with an instructor--as proven by this solitary act of using the online computers to journal my thoughts. I originally enrolled because my English instructor noted anyone taking the conference class and using the tools/instructors to write an essay would get 1/2 grade higher on any paper turned in. It turns out that I didn't want to READ & WRITE this semester so I dropped the English class but I kept this one. Part of me figures that it's a good opportunity to try and focus on some of my own writing projects. Will I?
In the last week, I wrote two more songs for Closer To Legal, "Darwin" and "That Way." That brings the total up to three, four if I can work the you last entry into something workable. Is this another dream of mine that will never drip ripe its fruition? I dare not quash the small endeavors that keep my fire alive inside. SAVE POINT UNO (I'm getting smart this time.) Randy & I are staying at my mom's house until next Wednesday. She and Jim have driven up to Seattle to visit Grandpa & Grandma Jean. Sarah is in her second week of high school. A Freshman. So grown up, so young still. She has so much insecurity and yet I can see the woman beginning to form opinions with her Hot Topic t-shirt reading "Prom Is Dumb" and her star shot shoelaces. It's nice having a washer/dryer so accessible. I miss this part of domestic living. I don't miss the clutter that my mom seems to collect everywhere. I don't miss the animals and the hair they leave everywhere, nor cleaning up the "messes" they make. It will be a different week for us and I'm sure we'll both be glad to be in our own bed just as fast as we can. Yesterday I took Sarah to a doctor appointment. Randy accompanied us. I liked that hey came. We grow more and more domestic as the months pass. Soon my birthday will be here and two years will have graced us. (As we gracefully fell back to the arms of grace--haha) We all walked into the waiting room of the doctor's office and found it to be quite full. Noise. Kids running. Noise. Parents calling. Noise. Nurses calling. Noise noise noise noise. I want kids? We sat down and there was the table in front of us with magazines, kiddie books. A man was talking to a little girl on the other side of the table. It wasn't odd at first, but I noticed that he had his feet on the table, elevated, resting, as if it were an ottoman(sp?) at home. When I glanced again, I could see that he wasn't wearing any shoes and his bare feet were on the magazines AND one foot wasn't regular color. It was Orange with green spots. I looked at Randy and psychically we exchanged the same thought. (His was auidbly louder than mine.) Sarah soon saw and was trying not to laugh. The man and girl eventually left. We began talking about it and laughed. I picked up the magazine that his foot was resting on and put it on Randy's lap. With no volume control, his immediate reaction was, "JESUS CHRIST! His foot was on that." Sarah and I laughed like only siblings or great friends can. SAVE POINT DOS On the way over to this lab/center, I passed the main courtyard and the mobile coffehouse cart. In the year that I've been coming here the cart has never been worked by anything other than boys. Not just boys but ONLY CUTE BOYS. I have concluded that the owner of the coffeshop is gay and he hand picks the boys to staff the cart. I KNOW this. =) Now I'll let this fantasy play out for a while and then maybe share it with Bobby at some point where we will mutually figure out the truth. My time has ended. Two hours down, 14 more to go. Ahh....where will the semester take me?
Sunday, September 08, 2002
M on M
Malaise on Mayo....maybe the next song title for Closer To Legal.
Butterfingered thoughts off the ball. Bleak threads inside of shallow breaths. I hear sounds in the background when I walk; like crickets outside of the window that are just part of the night's canvas. I want them to be understood, but the more I listen, the more foreign they are and it could drive me mad if I didn't stop. There truly are no original thoughts. Spin. "I just watched my life go by." Ahead of me is everything that was behind me and one moment can define. Morsels: more souls: Moore soles. I play with the words to show that a silent kind of communication is to be trusted more than words. Words obscure, as much as others will proclaim their ability to bring clarity. Words bring clarity for some like religion as a path for others. And I'm tired, oh so tired and maybe this whole rant is the new Malaise on Mayo. And maybe this rant is just me again.
Butterfingered thoughts off the ball. Bleak threads inside of shallow breaths. I hear sounds in the background when I walk; like crickets outside of the window that are just part of the night's canvas. I want them to be understood, but the more I listen, the more foreign they are and it could drive me mad if I didn't stop. There truly are no original thoughts. Spin. "I just watched my life go by." Ahead of me is everything that was behind me and one moment can define. Morsels: more souls: Moore soles. I play with the words to show that a silent kind of communication is to be trusted more than words. Words obscure, as much as others will proclaim their ability to bring clarity. Words bring clarity for some like religion as a path for others. And I'm tired, oh so tired and maybe this whole rant is the new Malaise on Mayo. And maybe this rant is just me again.
Wednesday, September 04, 2002
Hour By Hour
So I'm trying something new... like always. (or never)
EVENTS:
6:30am awake
6:31am back asleep
7:30am awake
7:45am E-mail Alegebra professor intent to have semester grade based solely on my final exam and not test/quizzes
8:05am back asleep
8:45am awake...went running
9:05am back from run, showered
9:05---10:30 LOST TIME I think I mostly listened to music, ate a bowl of Basic 4, watched a Bjork DVD, talked online, jacked off, and got school stuff ready.
10:45--arrived at English Writing conference room to work on Ch.2 of story idea. An hour later, one whole typed page. woo hoo... boo.
11:45--bored, return home to look for a movie.
1:20pm--arrive at Westpark Cinemas to watch 1:35 showing of the movie XXX (Tripe X). While waiting I text messaged Randy, Eric & Dionna. Found out Dionna worked @ El Torito tonight at 6pm.
4:00pm--or thereabouts, get home and talk online with Rob & Jayson until Randy gets home at 4:45pm.
5:00pm--hunger pains. We set off on side streets to goto El Torito
6:00pm--arrive at El Torito. One hour side street drive that normally takes 20-25 minutes freeway.
8:00pm--(approximately) we arrive home. I talk on the phone with Randy C. and catch up on his cruiseship experiences. I think of BUSH's first album title, "6Teen Stone."
8--10pm Randy & I lay in bed watching Enterprise, are logged onto AOL and casually chatting with absolutely no one interesting; waiting for SouthPark
10pm SouthPark is a re-run, but funny. Randy is horny, I'm not, but am having fun jacking him off to the point where he shoots our wall again. =+)
10:30--11pm I get horny and j/o to some porn from the internet.
11pm--both tired, hot, fall asleep without covers and in the nude.
EVENTS:
6:30am awake
6:31am back asleep
7:30am awake
7:45am E-mail Alegebra professor intent to have semester grade based solely on my final exam and not test/quizzes
8:05am back asleep
8:45am awake...went running
9:05am back from run, showered
9:05---10:30 LOST TIME I think I mostly listened to music, ate a bowl of Basic 4, watched a Bjork DVD, talked online, jacked off, and got school stuff ready.
10:45--arrived at English Writing conference room to work on Ch.2 of story idea. An hour later, one whole typed page. woo hoo... boo.
11:45--bored, return home to look for a movie.
1:20pm--arrive at Westpark Cinemas to watch 1:35 showing of the movie XXX (Tripe X). While waiting I text messaged Randy, Eric & Dionna. Found out Dionna worked @ El Torito tonight at 6pm.
4:00pm--or thereabouts, get home and talk online with Rob & Jayson until Randy gets home at 4:45pm.
5:00pm--hunger pains. We set off on side streets to goto El Torito
6:00pm--arrive at El Torito. One hour side street drive that normally takes 20-25 minutes freeway.
8:00pm--(approximately) we arrive home. I talk on the phone with Randy C. and catch up on his cruiseship experiences. I think of BUSH's first album title, "6Teen Stone."
8--10pm Randy & I lay in bed watching Enterprise, are logged onto AOL and casually chatting with absolutely no one interesting; waiting for SouthPark
10pm SouthPark is a re-run, but funny. Randy is horny, I'm not, but am having fun jacking him off to the point where he shoots our wall again. =+)
10:30--11pm I get horny and j/o to some porn from the internet.
11pm--both tired, hot, fall asleep without covers and in the nude.
Tuesday, September 03, 2002
experiment
CJ Stone - "Infinity"
This is the second week of school. My class started at 8am, and no, I'm not on a laptop in class at present. [yawn] I've always written when I've felt inspired to do so, not to deadlines or upon request. A closer evaluation reveals that I'm turned off to writing when there is some artificial element to it. That being said, I've dropped my Writing 1 class, but have kept the workshop .5 unit class. The idea being that maybe I can use the structured time each week to sit and pump out a chapter a week until the end of the semester. It will be an experiment for me. Something has to be finished in order for it to be revised.
Eva Cassidy - "Over The Rainbow"
This is the second week of school. My class started at 8am, and no, I'm not on a laptop in class at present. [yawn] I've always written when I've felt inspired to do so, not to deadlines or upon request. A closer evaluation reveals that I'm turned off to writing when there is some artificial element to it. That being said, I've dropped my Writing 1 class, but have kept the workshop .5 unit class. The idea being that maybe I can use the structured time each week to sit and pump out a chapter a week until the end of the semester. It will be an experiment for me. Something has to be finished in order for it to be revised.
Eva Cassidy - "Over The Rainbow"
Thursday, August 15, 2002
It's not a habit
I remember reading an article about teenagers in Austrailia licking frogs to get high. This was back when I was in junior high or high school. The idea at the time repulsed me. I Thought how stupid those kids must be. Drugs are bad!
Today I think that those kids probably have a better understanding of life than I did back then. I may not believe a prince will be forthcoming, but I'd do it for the experience anyway.
I'm drinking Smirnoff Ice. It's heavy on the tartness... little on the alcohol. I feel more bloated than drunk, but definitely not sober. The 5 second bathroom runs are a bit unwelcome. There's an episode of Star Trek Voyager on the TV that I've never seen before, but I'm enjoying typing online, drinking and listening to music more than to tear myself away and sit in front of the tube.
Carpe Diem. Yeah.
Today I think that those kids probably have a better understanding of life than I did back then. I may not believe a prince will be forthcoming, but I'd do it for the experience anyway.
I'm drinking Smirnoff Ice. It's heavy on the tartness... little on the alcohol. I feel more bloated than drunk, but definitely not sober. The 5 second bathroom runs are a bit unwelcome. There's an episode of Star Trek Voyager on the TV that I've never seen before, but I'm enjoying typing online, drinking and listening to music more than to tear myself away and sit in front of the tube.
Carpe Diem. Yeah.
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
Conduits Short Circuit
["Conduits" storyline thoughts]
Somehow a brain is only part of the solution. I mean, we can do so much without one. Look around. Wonders abound with brainless activity. But then we build these reaching to space skyscrapers, bridges that float, and put people into the openness that has no air.
A man still stares at a boy with the eyes of a boy. It's not the brain that remembers what point in time the man is really at, it's the mirror or the expression on the face of the boy that jabs a knife into the man's ego.
So the old men have this money; an enticing situation for the young faces that only need attention. Slowly that part of the brain that was once stabbed is turning tables and subtly twisting the knife's sharp edge on the pusher. It's an unfelt pain that doesn't manifest for years.
I think one tear drop contains the entire essence of these toughts.
Somehow a brain is only part of the solution. I mean, we can do so much without one. Look around. Wonders abound with brainless activity. But then we build these reaching to space skyscrapers, bridges that float, and put people into the openness that has no air.
A man still stares at a boy with the eyes of a boy. It's not the brain that remembers what point in time the man is really at, it's the mirror or the expression on the face of the boy that jabs a knife into the man's ego.
So the old men have this money; an enticing situation for the young faces that only need attention. Slowly that part of the brain that was once stabbed is turning tables and subtly twisting the knife's sharp edge on the pusher. It's an unfelt pain that doesn't manifest for years.
I think one tear drop contains the entire essence of these toughts.
Monday, July 29, 2002
If Not Me, Now? Who?
If not me, now? Who? I wrote that in my day planner earlier tonight while at work.
Friday, June 28, 2002
Great Expectations
There's the faint aching of a frontal lobe, sleep deprovation headache coming on. My eyes feel strained from wearing my contacts; bulging as if they could "pop" the contacts right off and breathe in some air. I feel like crying, as if somehow that could soothe me and make everything okay.
Randy is asleep on the couch next to me. His phone just rang. There it goes again. Whoever is calling must have got the idea that it's 3am.
The irony. LOL. I smile, but it's more out of pain. On our drive out to L.A I talked about not expecting too much from his work so that he wouldn't be disappointed. I didn't seem to remember this advice when we got to the club and his tired, "Randy First" attitude took precedence. I expected more, and less. More that it would be a fun time for us to be together and less of...hmm, less of Randy? I wonder if sometimes I don't just see the more true and untethered him when he drinks. That's fucking in the genes too. Thanks mom. Patterns.
I'm ready to go to sleep anytime, he says. Yeah. Me too.
j.r.me
Randy is asleep on the couch next to me. His phone just rang. There it goes again. Whoever is calling must have got the idea that it's 3am.
The irony. LOL. I smile, but it's more out of pain. On our drive out to L.A I talked about not expecting too much from his work so that he wouldn't be disappointed. I didn't seem to remember this advice when we got to the club and his tired, "Randy First" attitude took precedence. I expected more, and less. More that it would be a fun time for us to be together and less of...hmm, less of Randy? I wonder if sometimes I don't just see the more true and untethered him when he drinks. That's fucking in the genes too. Thanks mom. Patterns.
I'm ready to go to sleep anytime, he says. Yeah. Me too.
j.r.me
Tuesday, May 14, 2002
And the truth shall set you free
Having a conversation with Alex online, listening to Incubus on MTV and re-reading some of these older entries, it seems so clear right now. The many words that I don't write are the stray thoughts that occupy so much use of energy.
It's like the stories of the past, when being honest would head off any chance of holding something over my head.
It's like the stories of the past, when being honest would head off any chance of holding something over my head.
Thursday, May 09, 2002
jumping hoops
Sometimes I can tell what day it is by what shows are on TV. Fuck.
I was having a "talking to myself" moment yesterday as I got up out of bed and realized that I'm not really a writer. I don't tell stories. Writing has just been my outlet and security in times of trying to cope with whatever my head wanted to spin me. My talent is interpretation and cultivating innate gifts. Why are there so many fucking hoops. I am so frustrated.
Even when I work for it, I am no more satisfied when something is achieved.
I was having a "talking to myself" moment yesterday as I got up out of bed and realized that I'm not really a writer. I don't tell stories. Writing has just been my outlet and security in times of trying to cope with whatever my head wanted to spin me. My talent is interpretation and cultivating innate gifts. Why are there so many fucking hoops. I am so frustrated.
Even when I work for it, I am no more satisfied when something is achieved.
Monday, May 06, 2002
I do
Years ago when I dated Steve Tanny he described me as a "free spirit." I just finished some aerobic exercise and I was sitting in front of the fan cooling down when this thought came to mind. It flew in on the wings of other thoughts... Grandma Jean; how some days I can be overjoyed with the outlook of a child and others when I'm locked in bed with the experience of a agoraphobe.(sp?)
I suppose I could be seen as "free." I'm sure that freedom is the inner lining to much of me. I wanted it for so long that when I got it I was too busy trying to obtain it to know it was here. Convention: something I have often rebuffed in favor of "my own way." How silly that the little boy I always wanted to keep around should surface in such a way. I like that he's still here, but it sure isn't life as I had imagined, nor that I would want to live through again.
This will be a short week. Only 4 hours of work tonight. I have Friday off for a Dr. appt. and then off to Pomona to speak in front of Valley Academy High School for PFLAG. I'm told it's a school assembly. I have mixed feelings. I hope for the best.
I do.
I suppose I could be seen as "free." I'm sure that freedom is the inner lining to much of me. I wanted it for so long that when I got it I was too busy trying to obtain it to know it was here. Convention: something I have often rebuffed in favor of "my own way." How silly that the little boy I always wanted to keep around should surface in such a way. I like that he's still here, but it sure isn't life as I had imagined, nor that I would want to live through again.
This will be a short week. Only 4 hours of work tonight. I have Friday off for a Dr. appt. and then off to Pomona to speak in front of Valley Academy High School for PFLAG. I'm told it's a school assembly. I have mixed feelings. I hope for the best.
I do.
Tuesday, April 30, 2002
yea yea
This is a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is only a test because there is no way this could be real , right? Because if this was real then something must have happened. I'm still breathing and I think the rest of the world is still here, but maybe it's not. I went home for lunch and there was silence, and eerie something that hung in the air; awkwardness about moods and eating. Everybody has two sides. It's true. True, truth, truthest. Headache. I need a project to keep me busy until school starts. I thought of the closet with all of the many papers and memories, but I think that will be a bigger project than I have time for. School does begin in 28 days. The Mother's Day idea fell through. No one really responded too much and I didn't do prodding. I didn't feel like it. I don't want to feel like I used to in years past so I just let it go. I read a few other people's diary in the diary ring I'm in and I realized how disjointed I am. It's just exactly like I feel. The next 45 minutes until I'm off of work can't pass fast enough.
I got the official PASS score for the CBEST. Yeah.
I got the official PASS score for the CBEST. Yeah.
shot out of cannon in D Major
Lights.....flickers......sadness.....glossy brain. I want to be left alone, but there's so much around me. I want to be touched, but not right now. I had a good laugh over the weekend tearing down a wall with my brother in my mother's garage, but it's a fleeting moment and then I run away again. Food & fun, but nothing really deep. FLickering....candlelight. Tears that won't come out; a yawn that holds them in, pushes them out around the rim of my half closed eyes. Blink. Are we really all made of stars as Moby would recite?
Monday, April 22, 2002
peek it
Seven more days and I can see the results of my CBEST test. It would really be a shame to my ego if I didn't pass it. I guess it wouldn't be THAT bad since I'm not even 1/4 of the way to completing my B.A. Ahh... hoops.
Last weekend, Randy & I drove up to Seattle. It was a quick visit. I wish it didn't have to be that way. I blame this shitty system of living we've developed, one where money and capitalism takes precedence over a person's life. Where are our priorities?
There's a spider above head. I happened to glance up on the darkness and can see the darker spot on the ceiling than is normal. Maybe I'll type faster now.
In my head I can't stop thinking about Grandma Jean, my mother, Marthalee, Randy, Nathan, D.R., Randy C, Chuck, Art, my brothers and sister. There are books I have not written, classes still waiting to be taken. There are children that I want to raise. There are roads not fully travelled and roads not even trod upon. I worry. I feel myself out of touch; almost like I've lost my way but yet I haven't. I'm still sensitive to more than anyone will ever know, dramatic, maybe even a little disappointed by choosing to grow a little older.
I keep thinking that time will sort me out, but I think I worry because I already know the answer.
Last weekend, Randy & I drove up to Seattle. It was a quick visit. I wish it didn't have to be that way. I blame this shitty system of living we've developed, one where money and capitalism takes precedence over a person's life. Where are our priorities?
There's a spider above head. I happened to glance up on the darkness and can see the darker spot on the ceiling than is normal. Maybe I'll type faster now.
In my head I can't stop thinking about Grandma Jean, my mother, Marthalee, Randy, Nathan, D.R., Randy C, Chuck, Art, my brothers and sister. There are books I have not written, classes still waiting to be taken. There are children that I want to raise. There are roads not fully travelled and roads not even trod upon. I worry. I feel myself out of touch; almost like I've lost my way but yet I haven't. I'm still sensitive to more than anyone will ever know, dramatic, maybe even a little disappointed by choosing to grow a little older.
I keep thinking that time will sort me out, but I think I worry because I already know the answer.
Saturday, March 23, 2002
hot flashes
Flash heat when I think about the slowness of change. I think about this because of the high school class that I spoke in front of for PFLAG today. It was a great class; good questions. The "kids" (and man do they look like kids) were very insightful. We found out at the end of the class from one of the administrators that a parent had called to protest our presence there. Flash heat for sure.
Hahaha...remember that dream entry about the neighbor boy. We've since gained an evening of observation among friends. It's funny to see the ways he will try and find to speak with Randy. Flash heat. I'm not completely healed yet. Maybe my expectations are too high to be healed. I still love him. That had not ever been in question.
D.R. will be re-signing the lease with us, but will be looking to buy his own house before the end of the lease.
I stayed up last night IM-chatting with Alex, the newly crowned Miss WET Chunti Princess of the greater Inland Empire. He's such a nut. In some ways he reminds me of how I used to idealize before I made certain choices. I enjoyed picking apart websites until I realized I had to go to bed to wake up for the class this morning.
Smushy Time. Hahahaha... I love it.
Hahaha...remember that dream entry about the neighbor boy. We've since gained an evening of observation among friends. It's funny to see the ways he will try and find to speak with Randy. Flash heat. I'm not completely healed yet. Maybe my expectations are too high to be healed. I still love him. That had not ever been in question.
D.R. will be re-signing the lease with us, but will be looking to buy his own house before the end of the lease.
I stayed up last night IM-chatting with Alex, the newly crowned Miss WET Chunti Princess of the greater Inland Empire. He's such a nut. In some ways he reminds me of how I used to idealize before I made certain choices. I enjoyed picking apart websites until I realized I had to go to bed to wake up for the class this morning.
Smushy Time. Hahahaha... I love it.
open entries
I'm online right now talking with Alex. I was starting to discuss with him something that is really a private conversation to be had with Randy so I stopped. Mom just sent some cute pics of Sarah posing. It was a good interruption to my conversation.
The rain has been pelting for the last half hour. I like the sound. Maybe I'm just feeling really emotional today. I few times my eyes have welled up with tears. I began reading CONTACT by Carl Sagan. Two chapters in...so far, so good. I wonder if seeing the movie will have ruined any surprises. LOL
So something everyday that scares you, huh? I have that in my profile on AOL. How often do I follow that? Not enough. I think the things that scare me are the social constraints. I think that when I choose to do something out of the norm is when I draw attention to myself in what may commonly be thought to be a bad light. I think I'm pull out the asshole from the closet when I'm in those thoughts. I'm biting my lip right now and chewing off the dead skin. It's kind of like a metaphor.
I'm looking forward to the party that Bobby & Joey are having later tonight. It's been a while since they've had one at the house. I know I'll be crashing there already. Alex has mentioned that Danny wants to taste one of my full-o-alochol but cannot taste that shit drinks. How cute. The whole group of them are good to my soul. There's a strong sense of family when I'm hanging out with them. I think those wells have finally arrived.
I drink some water from my happy face cup because I think maybe that face on the cup could be mine. But it's not. It's just a cup. And the rain drowns out the sound of the keyboard.
The rain has been pelting for the last half hour. I like the sound. Maybe I'm just feeling really emotional today. I few times my eyes have welled up with tears. I began reading CONTACT by Carl Sagan. Two chapters in...so far, so good. I wonder if seeing the movie will have ruined any surprises. LOL
So something everyday that scares you, huh? I have that in my profile on AOL. How often do I follow that? Not enough. I think the things that scare me are the social constraints. I think that when I choose to do something out of the norm is when I draw attention to myself in what may commonly be thought to be a bad light. I think I'm pull out the asshole from the closet when I'm in those thoughts. I'm biting my lip right now and chewing off the dead skin. It's kind of like a metaphor.
I'm looking forward to the party that Bobby & Joey are having later tonight. It's been a while since they've had one at the house. I know I'll be crashing there already. Alex has mentioned that Danny wants to taste one of my full-o-alochol but cannot taste that shit drinks. How cute. The whole group of them are good to my soul. There's a strong sense of family when I'm hanging out with them. I think those wells have finally arrived.
I drink some water from my happy face cup because I think maybe that face on the cup could be mine. But it's not. It's just a cup. And the rain drowns out the sound of the keyboard.
Friday, March 15, 2002
criss cross colored thoughts
I woke up after my short 3 hours of sleep with a feeling of having to go to the bathroom but being too lazy to get up. I was comfy. Warm. Why lose that so that my bladder could feel better? I guess because the warmth from peeing in bed would soon fade and then it would be cold, uncomfortable and smelly. See.....the child doesn't always win in my head.
My brain isn't quite aware that the rest of my body still wants to be asleep. I have today to myself. No work. I've paid all my bills, made plans for tonight to hang out with Chuck & Ken; Art & his new Beau. Randy & I will be on the other end of the relationship spectrum, neither dating or trying to figure out if we will develop into boyfriends, but an actual couple discussing opening up a joint savings account. I'm so much in love that it scares me.
I started writing an entry last night about how I feel this duality in me. Randy and I are talking about buying a home; planning. It's that dream I've wanted. Oh...demons within. The boy with the dream reached through the mirror with no reflection and lived another life for a while. Would Randy love the person I was at 18? Nine years has darkened me. Maybe it's given me a contrast to compare. Maybe an apple once bitten reveals the waxy truth nothing is what it seems. Have the experiences and walks outside of my box delivered me--as I am today--wrapped in a bow? (Imperfections as well as my teddy bear arms)
I got an e-mail back from Marthalee. I'm trying to plan a roadtrip to Seattle the week of Labor Day. The drive would be nice. Mt. Shasta...blue skies, green trees. I close my eyes and inhale.
My brain isn't quite aware that the rest of my body still wants to be asleep. I have today to myself. No work. I've paid all my bills, made plans for tonight to hang out with Chuck & Ken; Art & his new Beau. Randy & I will be on the other end of the relationship spectrum, neither dating or trying to figure out if we will develop into boyfriends, but an actual couple discussing opening up a joint savings account. I'm so much in love that it scares me.
I started writing an entry last night about how I feel this duality in me. Randy and I are talking about buying a home; planning. It's that dream I've wanted. Oh...demons within. The boy with the dream reached through the mirror with no reflection and lived another life for a while. Would Randy love the person I was at 18? Nine years has darkened me. Maybe it's given me a contrast to compare. Maybe an apple once bitten reveals the waxy truth nothing is what it seems. Have the experiences and walks outside of my box delivered me--as I am today--wrapped in a bow? (Imperfections as well as my teddy bear arms)
I got an e-mail back from Marthalee. I'm trying to plan a roadtrip to Seattle the week of Labor Day. The drive would be nice. Mt. Shasta...blue skies, green trees. I close my eyes and inhale.
Tuesday, March 12, 2002
"Ain't No Sunshine"
My last entry had been so long in between that I didn't change the format of how the date was displayed. That OCD part of me wants to go back and fix it. That inconsistent, "who cares" part of me is winning out today.
I start work in one hour. I've just finished going through e-mail. Chuck is online in the Boston Cyber community looking for lodging information. It's prompted a short, but tasty conversation about call boys and slaves. Okay. Done with that.
I think I'm standing up today. I'm gonna use some crutches. Maybe some knee pads.
I start work in one hour. I've just finished going through e-mail. Chuck is online in the Boston Cyber community looking for lodging information. It's prompted a short, but tasty conversation about call boys and slaves. Okay. Done with that.
I think I'm standing up today. I'm gonna use some crutches. Maybe some knee pads.
stumpy
I just feel inside like I keep falling down and skinning my knees and everytime I stand up I fall down again.
That's not normal, right?
j.r.me
That's not normal, right?
j.r.me
Tuesday, February 26, 2002
Silver Spurs
Just when you think something is going well, the tide turns without warning. It's probably something that I feed on and loathe at the same time. Through all of my thoughts right now.....I'm hungry.
Fundamentals or overtones? It used to be an easy choice because I never thought about it. I just looked at the words and went with whatever words came to mind. I never really understood the difference between them. I can't say I honestly do today either. Did that change the results of the test or make it even more true?
What conversations should never be had? Just about all of the ones that the inner sense of peace attends to. I'm in such an automatic mode right now. It truly is my way or the highway; a signature survival mode that I cherish for the strength it brings me and endure for the pain it inflicts.
My heart attack is still a few years off.
Fundamentals or overtones? It used to be an easy choice because I never thought about it. I just looked at the words and went with whatever words came to mind. I never really understood the difference between them. I can't say I honestly do today either. Did that change the results of the test or make it even more true?
What conversations should never be had? Just about all of the ones that the inner sense of peace attends to. I'm in such an automatic mode right now. It truly is my way or the highway; a signature survival mode that I cherish for the strength it brings me and endure for the pain it inflicts.
My heart attack is still a few years off.
Wednesday, February 20, 2002
brotherly love
A letter to my mother's cousin... how does that work now? 1st cousins, once removed? Or is it 2nd cousins? Someone e-mail me... lol
*****
*****
Marthalee,
I was roused quite early this morning. My work schedule for the past few months has been Monday-Friday, 1:30pm to 10pm. When I first picked this shift to work I thought it was ideal for my “creature-of-habit” ways, being up late and sleeping in. As it turns out, I was right, but the down side to this swing-shift schedule is that my friends and boyfriend are usually asleep by the time I get home and there’s no one around in the mornings so I basically only see people on the weekends. This morning, I had signed up to speak for PFLAG at a local community college. I still do this every semester; pretty much my only contribution back to the gay community. It’s very satisfying sitting in college classrooms and having a dialogue with people about who and what I am in the hope that later generations will have less intolerance and more understanding. (And I think that being in a college environment still satiates a need that I’ve never fulfilled by actually completing college yet.)
The class was pretty mild with their questions. I think as the years wear on that people seem to feel they “know” more about gay because of the media. Or perhaps it’s not the media per se, but that more people are “out” and visible and so people have had more contact with gay people. Whatever the case, I’m sensing that perhaps in my lifetime it won’t be necessary to go and speak in front a class anymore. Boy, wouldn’t that be nice. I know that things are changing; I’ve always been impatient with change.
Something touched me at the end of the class. A guy came up to our panel of speakers and asked what he could do or say to let his younger brother know that he was okay with him being gay. You could tell that the guy felt a little awkward approaching us. You could also tell how much he loved his brother. He told us how his dad would call his brother a faggot and how he could see what a distance was developing. It’s moments like this that make speaking all the more relevant and rewarding.
I was out last night with a friend and he mentioned he had never been to Seattle. I got to thinking and it’s been three years since I’ve been there. It was Valentine’s Day weekend of 1999. It seems forever ago. I’d like to make some plans to come up maybe toward the end of Summer. Do you have plans? Vacations? Wild, reckless abandon trips to the moon?
Byron & I spent a brief afternoon with Gary, Gail & the girls early in January. While there, we spoke with Grandpa Vern on the phone. He doesn’t sound at all well. From the descriptions that I get from Gary and my mom (separately), it sounds like Grandpa has begun to shut down and settle up in Hoodsport to rest. I wrote him a letter last week. I encouraged him to move down here to his property at The River. I sense though—as I might if I were in his situation—that he’s more comfortable (mentally) where he is, a place of familiar surroundings. I also sense that he doesn’t want to be a burden to his children. This is an irony of the parent-child relationship. In our youth we’re running away to break the ties from our parents while they are hard at work clasping to that control over us. In our parent’s age they are still the parents, not wanting to impart the responsibility of parenting on us over them as we have finally come home to assume this natural progression. In my letter I talked of the family feud between my mother and Gary. I wondered how he viewed that. I’m not even sure at this stage whether he would understand my letter or not. I hope that a generation of unspoken words between he and I were somehow transmitted in my letter. That’s the problem I often face with family members: I’m never quite sure what to say, but always hope that it will all be said in the end.
I just got back from spending last weekend in Las Vegas. A friend was having a birthday celebration there. (He does every year) When I leave the sanctuary of California public buildings, I have to remember to bring a gas mask. The hotels in Las Vegas are filled with cigarette smoke. You don’t realize how sullied you are until you go back to your room where there isn’t any smoke and yet can still smell it just as pungently because it’s imbedded in your clothes. I’ve never much liked the smell of smoke. I’m all for people’s right to do what they want, when they want with their bodies, but don’t include me in the chimney. =)
I’m not much of a gambler. I allow myself $20 to play with when I go. If I lose that in the first few minutes I’m done for the weekend. I never play slots. I stick to the Blackjack tables. I guess I want to feel that I’ve put more than just the luck of the cosmos in the pull of a slot arm, so I sit and make decisions of life & death sizzle like, “Should I hit on 13 with the dealer showing a 10?” …of course, this decision is being made over a $1.00 bet. I tried not to get too stressed out, haha. As it turned out, I ended up keeping my $20 and taking another $76 from the Sahara Hotel. Not too shabby.
At present I’m living in Irvine, CA. I’ll include all my info below. I live across the street from my community college. I’m two miles from work at Verizon Wireless. (I do tech support on the phones) We live in a cute little planned community called Woodbridge. There are two manmade lakes in the center that are nice and peaceful to walk around. The “we” is my boyfriend, Randy, and another friend, David. Randy & I have been dating now for about 13 months. Time…oh time…
Hugs to Mark and Grandma Jean. I hope to see you all soon.
*****
*****
Marthalee,
I was roused quite early this morning. My work schedule for the past few months has been Monday-Friday, 1:30pm to 10pm. When I first picked this shift to work I thought it was ideal for my “creature-of-habit” ways, being up late and sleeping in. As it turns out, I was right, but the down side to this swing-shift schedule is that my friends and boyfriend are usually asleep by the time I get home and there’s no one around in the mornings so I basically only see people on the weekends. This morning, I had signed up to speak for PFLAG at a local community college. I still do this every semester; pretty much my only contribution back to the gay community. It’s very satisfying sitting in college classrooms and having a dialogue with people about who and what I am in the hope that later generations will have less intolerance and more understanding. (And I think that being in a college environment still satiates a need that I’ve never fulfilled by actually completing college yet.)
The class was pretty mild with their questions. I think as the years wear on that people seem to feel they “know” more about gay because of the media. Or perhaps it’s not the media per se, but that more people are “out” and visible and so people have had more contact with gay people. Whatever the case, I’m sensing that perhaps in my lifetime it won’t be necessary to go and speak in front a class anymore. Boy, wouldn’t that be nice. I know that things are changing; I’ve always been impatient with change.
Something touched me at the end of the class. A guy came up to our panel of speakers and asked what he could do or say to let his younger brother know that he was okay with him being gay. You could tell that the guy felt a little awkward approaching us. You could also tell how much he loved his brother. He told us how his dad would call his brother a faggot and how he could see what a distance was developing. It’s moments like this that make speaking all the more relevant and rewarding.
I was out last night with a friend and he mentioned he had never been to Seattle. I got to thinking and it’s been three years since I’ve been there. It was Valentine’s Day weekend of 1999. It seems forever ago. I’d like to make some plans to come up maybe toward the end of Summer. Do you have plans? Vacations? Wild, reckless abandon trips to the moon?
Byron & I spent a brief afternoon with Gary, Gail & the girls early in January. While there, we spoke with Grandpa Vern on the phone. He doesn’t sound at all well. From the descriptions that I get from Gary and my mom (separately), it sounds like Grandpa has begun to shut down and settle up in Hoodsport to rest. I wrote him a letter last week. I encouraged him to move down here to his property at The River. I sense though—as I might if I were in his situation—that he’s more comfortable (mentally) where he is, a place of familiar surroundings. I also sense that he doesn’t want to be a burden to his children. This is an irony of the parent-child relationship. In our youth we’re running away to break the ties from our parents while they are hard at work clasping to that control over us. In our parent’s age they are still the parents, not wanting to impart the responsibility of parenting on us over them as we have finally come home to assume this natural progression. In my letter I talked of the family feud between my mother and Gary. I wondered how he viewed that. I’m not even sure at this stage whether he would understand my letter or not. I hope that a generation of unspoken words between he and I were somehow transmitted in my letter. That’s the problem I often face with family members: I’m never quite sure what to say, but always hope that it will all be said in the end.
I just got back from spending last weekend in Las Vegas. A friend was having a birthday celebration there. (He does every year) When I leave the sanctuary of California public buildings, I have to remember to bring a gas mask. The hotels in Las Vegas are filled with cigarette smoke. You don’t realize how sullied you are until you go back to your room where there isn’t any smoke and yet can still smell it just as pungently because it’s imbedded in your clothes. I’ve never much liked the smell of smoke. I’m all for people’s right to do what they want, when they want with their bodies, but don’t include me in the chimney. =)
I’m not much of a gambler. I allow myself $20 to play with when I go. If I lose that in the first few minutes I’m done for the weekend. I never play slots. I stick to the Blackjack tables. I guess I want to feel that I’ve put more than just the luck of the cosmos in the pull of a slot arm, so I sit and make decisions of life & death sizzle like, “Should I hit on 13 with the dealer showing a 10?” …of course, this decision is being made over a $1.00 bet. I tried not to get too stressed out, haha. As it turned out, I ended up keeping my $20 and taking another $76 from the Sahara Hotel. Not too shabby.
At present I’m living in Irvine, CA. I’ll include all my info below. I live across the street from my community college. I’m two miles from work at Verizon Wireless. (I do tech support on the phones) We live in a cute little planned community called Woodbridge. There are two manmade lakes in the center that are nice and peaceful to walk around. The “we” is my boyfriend, Randy, and another friend, David. Randy & I have been dating now for about 13 months. Time…oh time…
Hugs to Mark and Grandma Jean. I hope to see you all soon.
Thursday, January 31, 2002
creative process
I started reading "Equal Affections" by David Leavitt yesterday. I'm almost half way through the book. Steve (Harrison--8th Grade English teacher) lent me the book probably about five years ago. If I would have actually read it then I wouldn't be able to relate to much of the book as I can today. I'm the age of one of the characters in the book....it's weird.
I went to the MENSA website a couple days ago. I had no idea what mensa was really. Glad to know now that it's simply a "table." haha
I've been awake since 7am. I didn't hit the sheets until 1am...and I tossed for about 30 minutes before actually sleeping. The last few nights there have been an invasion of thoughts as I lay down next to Randy. His body is always warm, sweating. The blanket is often slightly moist from his sweat and I wonder what types of dreams he's having. I feel that sometimes I may make him cold. I'm warm soon enough. Coming up on 13 months, I'm in pioneer territory for me and sometimes it brings tears to my eyes as I fall asleep. They trickle across the bridge of my nose and I'm happy.
It's a beautiful blue day today. Shower...lunch...a car wash & some gas. Domestic suburbia here I come.
I went to the MENSA website a couple days ago. I had no idea what mensa was really. Glad to know now that it's simply a "table." haha
I've been awake since 7am. I didn't hit the sheets until 1am...and I tossed for about 30 minutes before actually sleeping. The last few nights there have been an invasion of thoughts as I lay down next to Randy. His body is always warm, sweating. The blanket is often slightly moist from his sweat and I wonder what types of dreams he's having. I feel that sometimes I may make him cold. I'm warm soon enough. Coming up on 13 months, I'm in pioneer territory for me and sometimes it brings tears to my eyes as I fall asleep. They trickle across the bridge of my nose and I'm happy.
It's a beautiful blue day today. Shower...lunch...a car wash & some gas. Domestic suburbia here I come.
Wednesday, January 30, 2002
believe me, I know
I had some thoughts I wanted to share with someone and I couldn't think of who I wanted to talk to so I wrote a letter to Mark. I wrote the letter two days ago....
HERE IT IS:
===========
2:43pm
Friday, January 25, 2002
I’ve only been here at work for a little over one hour and the shift is already dragging. That’s a bad sign. I’m at that stage in my working environment where the newlywed feelings are gone, the initial challenges of learning something new are gone and I want something more. The problem is that EVERY job is like this. I have this fear that teaching might end up being the same thing…. But I talk myself out of that conclusion by saying that each day will be different and new and a challenge—especially with kids today; trying to get them to comprehend life, become self aware, inspire them to seek out something they may never have thought of before, all the while competing with the media, the internet, pop culture generalities. (And in the process learn something myself about all the things that I think I already know.) That’s why I tell myself---the dream. The reality is that even DanceSafe, though inconsistent and challenging , has lost its luster. I’m great at starting things. I have a passion that explodes, but that’s all it does. After the explosion all I do is clean up and move on. There isn’t a whole lot of directed passion...and that kind of sounds like an oxymoron.
5:40pm
I’m back from my lunch. 30 minutes. Not long enough. I get home, throw together something and then am shoving it into my mouth as I walk out the door to come back here. Here. I might have told you once that when I was in second grade I sometimes cried myself to sleep praying to god to make me “normal.” I wanted to be like everyone else. I didn’t want to be smart. I didn’t want to stick out. Here I am, about twenty years later and I’m still wishing for the same thing deep down. I wish I could be normal; satisfied making a decent wage and working for a great company. Perhaps I just need medication. (Said in jest, but the irony is that if I were on meds 24/7 then I’d be that one step closer to being like everyone else in America. Hah.) A look at the clock…I still have over four hours left in my shift.
I look at my hands a lot; not the palms, but the backs of my hands. Over the years I’ve watched how they’ve become older. I measure “older” by the way the “cracks” around the knuckles have become more pronounced when I put my hand flat on a surface. The wrinkles slowly move out away from the knuckle more and more, fine little lines. I always paid attention to my grandmother’s hands and the hands of my great-grandmother. Maybe it’s because of the way they touched me—gentle. I don’t know for sure. Maybe I’ve always been fascinated by hands and have just paid close attention. (I doubt that) When I think of my own aging, I don’t think about the lines around my eyes or my hair, I just look down at my hands. Today they say, “Jeremy, the goddamn finger nails need to be cut soon.” And I listen.
7:35pm
I’ve moved cubicles at work. They’ve put all of us gay people in the same aisle. I wonder if it was purposely or if it just so happened that this is the way it worked. I think it’s kind of funny, but one of the other guys doesn’t think so. Understandably, if we were purposefully put here because of that reason it would be wrong, but I don’t think so. On one level I’m comforted being around family, on another level I’m not. They’re “older” family….probably mid 30’s. (If they’re younger than that, oh well, my bad---and their bad skin.) I feel so disconnected from gay life right now. I’m not sure how much of what I’m about to type will be welcome by you. I ultimately choose to share and I figure you’ll blast me with the M.W. Waters stamina that I’m used to when it comes to opinions
2:50pm
Monday, January 28, 2002
I’m in a post vitamin E mellow lull. Not low, not hyper, simply calm. I went to SPUNDAE on Saturday night. It’s a predominantly straight club in the Circus building behind Arena. The muscles from my jaw, radiating up toward my temples have a slight soreness to them still. I was smart enough to have gum, so I didn’t bite my tongue all that much. I came to a couple of conclusions during this last trip. 1) The fun I’ve experienced in the past 2½ years is about running it’s course. In many ways I feel the same way I did a few years ago when drinking all the time became mundane. 2) I’m a nerd, and I always have been. I’ve become more secure with this over the years, but I’m still not comfortable in straight environments---even though there’s nothing anyone is doing, it’s all a circus in my head that I’m still trying to clown around in.
I just realized that I hadn’t finished my thought from Friday. My thoughts on being “disconnected” from gay life: I feel like I want more of family than a “family.” I think that gay culture, after observing and being part of it for the last 10 years, has shown me that in addition to being a microcosm of the overall society, it’s also a culture that doesn’t want to be defined like the rest of society and lives by somewhat more open-minded definitions of relationships. I’d much rather be Jeremy than gay Jeremy. As I’ve always stated in my college presentations, being gay is a piece of who I am. Honestly though, it’s quite a bigger piece than I let on. My world is pretty much immersed in gay. Gay friends, roommate, dance clubs, organizations that I volunteer for. Save my job, school and DanceSafe, there isn’t much that isn’t gay. In this paragraph I’m not comfortable with “gay” and in the one above I’m not comfortable with “straight.” I think I’m just not comfortable in social situation period. I don’t relate well. I feel outside.
I had my first experience of straight-boy fever. On Saturday night, Nathan’s cousin, Jenny, brought her boyfriend, Chris. Chris was just a dream. I had to purposefully dance away from he & Jenny most of the night because he was so cute. He was totally your type too. He has dark hair, Italian, smart, 25 and very down to earth with no prejudice and no “weirdness” about being around gay guys. When he took his button down shirt off to reveal his tank top and arms of steel, I couldn’t stop stealing glances. The ironic thing is that Jenny has always thought I was cute and constantly makes comments about “getting me alone” or “converting” me. In fact, she was making these comments while we were all waiting in line to get into the club (a 90 minute wait) right in front of Chris. I was feeling a bit uncomfortable for him, but I think that was mainly my own nervousness. When we got into the club, his cuteness magnified exponentially when we went upstairs and he leans over to me and says while pointing, “That’s where I met Jennifer.” You could tell in his voice he was excited. They’ll have been together for one year this Feb 10th. Later in the evening I asked when they moved in together. Without as much of a heartbeat he responded with, “October 4th.” I was taken by how he recalled the information as if it was intimately important. At the end of the night he was going home, but Jenny wanted to continue on to Spike with the rest of us. As he shook my hand and hugged me goodbye, he said, “You’re a good dancer. Take good care of my girl tonight.” You can imagine how bad I felt about five minutes after getting into Spike when Jenny lit up a pipe and took a puff with security watching her. She was kicked out immediately. =(
4:57pm
My lunch starts at 6pm tonight. I’ll print this letter out and take it home. Tomorrow I’ll mail it and you should receive it by Wednesday. This is assuming that all is well with the U.S. Postal Service and that no major anthrax problems have halted delivery. Do you have a book that you could lend me to read? I’m still itching that maybe I’ll read some more. Maybe it will inspire me to write more. Maybe.
Let me know when you have some free time to hang out. Preferably some night rather than a quickie lunch. Until soon.
HERE IT IS:
===========
2:43pm
Friday, January 25, 2002
I’ve only been here at work for a little over one hour and the shift is already dragging. That’s a bad sign. I’m at that stage in my working environment where the newlywed feelings are gone, the initial challenges of learning something new are gone and I want something more. The problem is that EVERY job is like this. I have this fear that teaching might end up being the same thing…. But I talk myself out of that conclusion by saying that each day will be different and new and a challenge—especially with kids today; trying to get them to comprehend life, become self aware, inspire them to seek out something they may never have thought of before, all the while competing with the media, the internet, pop culture generalities. (And in the process learn something myself about all the things that I think I already know.) That’s why I tell myself---the dream. The reality is that even DanceSafe, though inconsistent and challenging , has lost its luster. I’m great at starting things. I have a passion that explodes, but that’s all it does. After the explosion all I do is clean up and move on. There isn’t a whole lot of directed passion...and that kind of sounds like an oxymoron.
5:40pm
I’m back from my lunch. 30 minutes. Not long enough. I get home, throw together something and then am shoving it into my mouth as I walk out the door to come back here. Here. I might have told you once that when I was in second grade I sometimes cried myself to sleep praying to god to make me “normal.” I wanted to be like everyone else. I didn’t want to be smart. I didn’t want to stick out. Here I am, about twenty years later and I’m still wishing for the same thing deep down. I wish I could be normal; satisfied making a decent wage and working for a great company. Perhaps I just need medication. (Said in jest, but the irony is that if I were on meds 24/7 then I’d be that one step closer to being like everyone else in America. Hah.) A look at the clock…I still have over four hours left in my shift.
I look at my hands a lot; not the palms, but the backs of my hands. Over the years I’ve watched how they’ve become older. I measure “older” by the way the “cracks” around the knuckles have become more pronounced when I put my hand flat on a surface. The wrinkles slowly move out away from the knuckle more and more, fine little lines. I always paid attention to my grandmother’s hands and the hands of my great-grandmother. Maybe it’s because of the way they touched me—gentle. I don’t know for sure. Maybe I’ve always been fascinated by hands and have just paid close attention. (I doubt that) When I think of my own aging, I don’t think about the lines around my eyes or my hair, I just look down at my hands. Today they say, “Jeremy, the goddamn finger nails need to be cut soon.” And I listen.
7:35pm
I’ve moved cubicles at work. They’ve put all of us gay people in the same aisle. I wonder if it was purposely or if it just so happened that this is the way it worked. I think it’s kind of funny, but one of the other guys doesn’t think so. Understandably, if we were purposefully put here because of that reason it would be wrong, but I don’t think so. On one level I’m comforted being around family, on another level I’m not. They’re “older” family….probably mid 30’s. (If they’re younger than that, oh well, my bad---and their bad skin.) I feel so disconnected from gay life right now. I’m not sure how much of what I’m about to type will be welcome by you. I ultimately choose to share and I figure you’ll blast me with the M.W. Waters stamina that I’m used to when it comes to opinions
2:50pm
Monday, January 28, 2002
I’m in a post vitamin E mellow lull. Not low, not hyper, simply calm. I went to SPUNDAE on Saturday night. It’s a predominantly straight club in the Circus building behind Arena. The muscles from my jaw, radiating up toward my temples have a slight soreness to them still. I was smart enough to have gum, so I didn’t bite my tongue all that much. I came to a couple of conclusions during this last trip. 1) The fun I’ve experienced in the past 2½ years is about running it’s course. In many ways I feel the same way I did a few years ago when drinking all the time became mundane. 2) I’m a nerd, and I always have been. I’ve become more secure with this over the years, but I’m still not comfortable in straight environments---even though there’s nothing anyone is doing, it’s all a circus in my head that I’m still trying to clown around in.
I just realized that I hadn’t finished my thought from Friday. My thoughts on being “disconnected” from gay life: I feel like I want more of family than a “family.” I think that gay culture, after observing and being part of it for the last 10 years, has shown me that in addition to being a microcosm of the overall society, it’s also a culture that doesn’t want to be defined like the rest of society and lives by somewhat more open-minded definitions of relationships. I’d much rather be Jeremy than gay Jeremy. As I’ve always stated in my college presentations, being gay is a piece of who I am. Honestly though, it’s quite a bigger piece than I let on. My world is pretty much immersed in gay. Gay friends, roommate, dance clubs, organizations that I volunteer for. Save my job, school and DanceSafe, there isn’t much that isn’t gay. In this paragraph I’m not comfortable with “gay” and in the one above I’m not comfortable with “straight.” I think I’m just not comfortable in social situation period. I don’t relate well. I feel outside.
I had my first experience of straight-boy fever. On Saturday night, Nathan’s cousin, Jenny, brought her boyfriend, Chris. Chris was just a dream. I had to purposefully dance away from he & Jenny most of the night because he was so cute. He was totally your type too. He has dark hair, Italian, smart, 25 and very down to earth with no prejudice and no “weirdness” about being around gay guys. When he took his button down shirt off to reveal his tank top and arms of steel, I couldn’t stop stealing glances. The ironic thing is that Jenny has always thought I was cute and constantly makes comments about “getting me alone” or “converting” me. In fact, she was making these comments while we were all waiting in line to get into the club (a 90 minute wait) right in front of Chris. I was feeling a bit uncomfortable for him, but I think that was mainly my own nervousness. When we got into the club, his cuteness magnified exponentially when we went upstairs and he leans over to me and says while pointing, “That’s where I met Jennifer.” You could tell in his voice he was excited. They’ll have been together for one year this Feb 10th. Later in the evening I asked when they moved in together. Without as much of a heartbeat he responded with, “October 4th.” I was taken by how he recalled the information as if it was intimately important. At the end of the night he was going home, but Jenny wanted to continue on to Spike with the rest of us. As he shook my hand and hugged me goodbye, he said, “You’re a good dancer. Take good care of my girl tonight.” You can imagine how bad I felt about five minutes after getting into Spike when Jenny lit up a pipe and took a puff with security watching her. She was kicked out immediately. =(
4:57pm
My lunch starts at 6pm tonight. I’ll print this letter out and take it home. Tomorrow I’ll mail it and you should receive it by Wednesday. This is assuming that all is well with the U.S. Postal Service and that no major anthrax problems have halted delivery. Do you have a book that you could lend me to read? I’m still itching that maybe I’ll read some more. Maybe it will inspire me to write more. Maybe.
Let me know when you have some free time to hang out. Preferably some night rather than a quickie lunch. Until soon.
Thursday, January 24, 2002
jet setting
I'm making so many travel plans lately. Art's 26th b-day is next month and he's planning his normal Las Vegas getaway. In May, Big Randy, Lil Randy, Bobby & I are going to go to San Francisco to partake in the Colossus Weekend circuit party. I was giddy purchasing the tickets online tonight.
Winds are a blowin' hard tonight. I can hear the trees banging up against the apartments. The sky will be so blue and clear tomorrow because of it. Beautiful.
I e-mailed this total stranger tonight because something instinctively told me to do so. It's that weird, inner connection feeling. He reminded me of Laney. I haven't heard from him since New Year's... I hope he and Shane are well in their new home together.
Randy is fast asleep in bed. I'm just now starting to get tired. Time for teeth brushing...face washing...yawn... heavy eyes say goodnight.
Winds are a blowin' hard tonight. I can hear the trees banging up against the apartments. The sky will be so blue and clear tomorrow because of it. Beautiful.
I e-mailed this total stranger tonight because something instinctively told me to do so. It's that weird, inner connection feeling. He reminded me of Laney. I haven't heard from him since New Year's... I hope he and Shane are well in their new home together.
Randy is fast asleep in bed. I'm just now starting to get tired. Time for teeth brushing...face washing...yawn... heavy eyes say goodnight.
Thursday, January 17, 2002
processing
THE PROCESS OF PROCESSING: A WORK IN PROGRESS
6:17pm
I just got in from my "lunch" break. My fingertips are pink going to purple. (Call)
6:25pm
Okay, that girl was either new or hadn't a clue on basic troubleshooting so my body temperature just brought my fingertips back to pink/red. I can feel the blood rushing back to them./\/\/\ Something else that I never thought I would see---never thought of really---were naked pictures of James on the internet. It was quite the experience after lunch for Mark and myself today. I'll admit some level of desire to be portrayed in the buff, but not immortalized on the internet for all the world to right click and then "save as."/\/\/\I want to go out tonight. I was out Tuesday night with Chuck. Mickey's was "okay." I wasn't expecting much so I wasn't disappointed in going. I just realized right now why my calves---(call)
6:32pm
---hurt so much. I actually did dance pretty hard. At the end of the night they played "Rapture" bye IIO and that was enough to get me on the box. It felt strange dancing there---(call)
6:33pm....still on the call. This dipshit calls me for help and then wants to argue with me on how to help him.
6:37pm
((I ended up hanging up on him))---up on the box because of how much older I know I am than most of them. Almost a whole decade. I was quite winded after that song; surely an affect of the imbibing.(Call)
6:40pm
It's difficult writing with the constant interruption of work, but I'm falling asleep with my head tilted back, staring at the flourescent lighting. I am being paid to sit here and babysit these customer service representatives. That's the reality. Hold their hands to make sure that they're doing their jobs correctly and for those rare calls where they've done everything, then I'm being paid slightly more for my "technical" expertise. That's laughable, but somehow true..somehow /\/\/\I'm going out tomorrow night with Bobby so I'll stay in tonight. Rest. I feel like I never get sleep even though I'm sleeping a lot. I remember this situation from years ago. I'm wretched inside. I shared my thoughts with Mark today about the idea of therapy for myself. (((My conversation with Mark should be another process in the process))) I had never voiced that to anyone--not that there would be many to voice it to anyway. (Call)
6:51pm
I think a therapist would tell me the obvious, that if working things out are making things in me so chaotic that I shouldn't do that to myself. Communicate. Find coping skills. (call)
6:57pm
I think going to a therapist would allow me freedom and an out...but to what? (call)
7:04pm
I still have three hours left here. In some ways I feel like fabric has been torn that cannot be stitched in me, or that stitched, it will still never be the same. I wonder sometimes if I'm just weak and clinging to my emotions. (call)
7:13pm
I just sent D.R. a text message about the last call I had because I believe it was his rep. Laziness. I shouldn't talk really, look at me. Hahaha....and yet, I'm still DOING my job. (Call)
7:15pm
How long to make this entry? I remember Mrs. Dallas saying that your essay should be like a girls' skirt; short enough to keep interest but long enough to cover everything. I think now how risque that was for 7th graders to hear, but I'm glad she told us. It was pleasing./\/\/\I'm back to trying to drink water more often. I think my desire to go out is also a desire for aerobic activity. I want ---(call)
7:20pm
---to trim down to 150-155 again. I'm full of energy more when I feel less like I'm hauling around extra weight. For instance, walking after lunch with Mark today felt good, but I was acutely aware of my stomach and my waistline.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
I'm through for now.
j.r.me
6:17pm
I just got in from my "lunch" break. My fingertips are pink going to purple. (Call)
6:25pm
Okay, that girl was either new or hadn't a clue on basic troubleshooting so my body temperature just brought my fingertips back to pink/red. I can feel the blood rushing back to them./\/\/\ Something else that I never thought I would see---never thought of really---were naked pictures of James on the internet. It was quite the experience after lunch for Mark and myself today. I'll admit some level of desire to be portrayed in the buff, but not immortalized on the internet for all the world to right click and then "save as."/\/\/\I want to go out tonight. I was out Tuesday night with Chuck. Mickey's was "okay." I wasn't expecting much so I wasn't disappointed in going. I just realized right now why my calves---(call)
6:32pm
---hurt so much. I actually did dance pretty hard. At the end of the night they played "Rapture" bye IIO and that was enough to get me on the box. It felt strange dancing there---(call)
6:33pm....still on the call. This dipshit calls me for help and then wants to argue with me on how to help him.
6:37pm
((I ended up hanging up on him))---up on the box because of how much older I know I am than most of them. Almost a whole decade. I was quite winded after that song; surely an affect of the imbibing.(Call)
6:40pm
It's difficult writing with the constant interruption of work, but I'm falling asleep with my head tilted back, staring at the flourescent lighting. I am being paid to sit here and babysit these customer service representatives. That's the reality. Hold their hands to make sure that they're doing their jobs correctly and for those rare calls where they've done everything, then I'm being paid slightly more for my "technical" expertise. That's laughable, but somehow true..somehow /\/\/\I'm going out tomorrow night with Bobby so I'll stay in tonight. Rest. I feel like I never get sleep even though I'm sleeping a lot. I remember this situation from years ago. I'm wretched inside. I shared my thoughts with Mark today about the idea of therapy for myself. (((My conversation with Mark should be another process in the process))) I had never voiced that to anyone--not that there would be many to voice it to anyway. (Call)
6:51pm
I think a therapist would tell me the obvious, that if working things out are making things in me so chaotic that I shouldn't do that to myself. Communicate. Find coping skills. (call)
6:57pm
I think going to a therapist would allow me freedom and an out...but to what? (call)
7:04pm
I still have three hours left here. In some ways I feel like fabric has been torn that cannot be stitched in me, or that stitched, it will still never be the same. I wonder sometimes if I'm just weak and clinging to my emotions. (call)
7:13pm
I just sent D.R. a text message about the last call I had because I believe it was his rep. Laziness. I shouldn't talk really, look at me. Hahaha....and yet, I'm still DOING my job. (Call)
7:15pm
How long to make this entry? I remember Mrs. Dallas saying that your essay should be like a girls' skirt; short enough to keep interest but long enough to cover everything. I think now how risque that was for 7th graders to hear, but I'm glad she told us. It was pleasing./\/\/\I'm back to trying to drink water more often. I think my desire to go out is also a desire for aerobic activity. I want ---(call)
7:20pm
---to trim down to 150-155 again. I'm full of energy more when I feel less like I'm hauling around extra weight. For instance, walking after lunch with Mark today felt good, but I was acutely aware of my stomach and my waistline.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
I'm through for now.
j.r.me
Tuesday, January 15, 2002
shortness of breath
What if I get arthiritis? I guess I can kiss my pianist career goodbye, right? Damn.
I haven't said much this year. I think it's a combination of not much to say and not much processed through my head to say anything anyway. I also think that the less I have to say, perhaps the more centered I'm becoming. That then scares me into thinking up something to say...because being in the middle of things isn't really where I want to be, or is it? Look. I have found something to talk and think about.
I like that I'm not the only neurotic person. My friends are too. Deciding whether or not to be friends with me; deciding on past relationships and whether they dare tread in their own footsteps; finding the balance of weight---and then finding a patience for wait; are there any answers at the bottom of that glass?; Southern hospitality really doesn't wash away all the hurt and anger inside; I wonder, does every star watch me when I dream of peeing on the passing cars?
(I bet they do)
j.r.me
I haven't said much this year. I think it's a combination of not much to say and not much processed through my head to say anything anyway. I also think that the less I have to say, perhaps the more centered I'm becoming. That then scares me into thinking up something to say...because being in the middle of things isn't really where I want to be, or is it? Look. I have found something to talk and think about.
I like that I'm not the only neurotic person. My friends are too. Deciding whether or not to be friends with me; deciding on past relationships and whether they dare tread in their own footsteps; finding the balance of weight---and then finding a patience for wait; are there any answers at the bottom of that glass?; Southern hospitality really doesn't wash away all the hurt and anger inside; I wonder, does every star watch me when I dream of peeing on the passing cars?
(I bet they do)
j.r.me
Tuesday, January 08, 2002
targets
Jonathan & Kristi's wedding announcement arrived in the mail. My phone did not. They're getting married on August 10th. Funny...I was thinking about the decision to marry while showering. I think it was on my mind because of the C.A.P.E. event at The OC Center this Saturday for domestic partnerships. My thought was, "I wonder if there are any auto insurance companies that give discounts for domestic partnerships?"
I split my forehead open the other day. I was walking in the dark toward the bathroom after about four hours of playing Armada II. I thought for sure I was heading in the direction of the door; turns out I smacked full force into the corner of the door frame. Vitamin E and Aloe Vera are my best friends right now. One hit wonders.
I guess it's time to leave for work. School started this week. I thought I had another week to procrastinate. I guess I'll have to do something this week. Tomorrow....yeah, always tomorrow.
I split my forehead open the other day. I was walking in the dark toward the bathroom after about four hours of playing Armada II. I thought for sure I was heading in the direction of the door; turns out I smacked full force into the corner of the door frame. Vitamin E and Aloe Vera are my best friends right now. One hit wonders.
I guess it's time to leave for work. School started this week. I thought I had another week to procrastinate. I guess I'll have to do something this week. Tomorrow....yeah, always tomorrow.
Saturday, January 05, 2002
genes
Wake-up talking, goto Wells Fargo, end up at the relatives' for lunch.
I spent a good portion of the afternoon with aunt, uncle & and cousins. Strange how blood is so gentically close and yet relatively distant. I actually enjoyed myself after getting past the about not really knowing each other. In that sense, how really different is it from being in a rave and talking to complete strangers, save having mutual family members to reference.
I learned that my grandfather is waning. I knew this to some extent, but I could see how my uncle was really seeing mortality closing in. Perhaps it is for him like it was for my mother with my grandmother seeing as he is closer to Grandpa. I can feel that inner sense expanding right now. I can feel a connection of something I don't understand and I feel my mind trying to put meaning to it.
I still have this desire for a close family. I feel a surge within to start contacting people--in small ways--to simply establish a link of togetherness. I miss the big family holiday gatherings. I fear that unless someone tries to bring everyone together those who have passed may have spent a lifetime of raising lost souls. I don't want to be a fragmant.
FLASHTHOUGHT: Mixing oil & water....Randy C. & Mark.
So Heidi graduates on May 17th. It sounds like a great roadtrip. Okay...I'm off to a rave: The 5th Day.
I spent a good portion of the afternoon with aunt, uncle & and cousins. Strange how blood is so gentically close and yet relatively distant. I actually enjoyed myself after getting past the about not really knowing each other. In that sense, how really different is it from being in a rave and talking to complete strangers, save having mutual family members to reference.
I learned that my grandfather is waning. I knew this to some extent, but I could see how my uncle was really seeing mortality closing in. Perhaps it is for him like it was for my mother with my grandmother seeing as he is closer to Grandpa. I can feel that inner sense expanding right now. I can feel a connection of something I don't understand and I feel my mind trying to put meaning to it.
I still have this desire for a close family. I feel a surge within to start contacting people--in small ways--to simply establish a link of togetherness. I miss the big family holiday gatherings. I fear that unless someone tries to bring everyone together those who have passed may have spent a lifetime of raising lost souls. I don't want to be a fragmant.
FLASHTHOUGHT: Mixing oil & water....Randy C. & Mark.
So Heidi graduates on May 17th. It sounds like a great roadtrip. Okay...I'm off to a rave: The 5th Day.
