Reading Between The Lines

3:30am It's officially started...my new work schedule. I'm one hour into my shift and all is quiet--as I remember it being Sunday nights going into Monday morning. Work upgraded everyone's computers, monitors & keyboards. It's much easier to type fast on this keyboard and I love it... like ideas can get out of my head faster; no limitations of physical reality.

So how do I feel? I forced myself to stay awake Sunday until 7am. Then I forced myself to keep going back to sleep during the day as I woke up several times. Tricking the body out of it's natural sleep pattern isn't fun. I'm wide awake now--so far, so good. I feel as if I haven't written an entry for some time. So much was packed into the tiny space of this last weekend that I didn't put any of it down. Now I have all this time and I'll let the seepage begin.

I have strep throat. Lovely. Good thing is that antibiotics started on Friday have already alleviated the pain and gland swelling so I know it's just seven more days until the little bacteria fuckers are dead.

Javier opted himself out of my life. My sister says not to feel bad about it because there are plenty of other people out there. The simple wisdom of being 15 again. She hasn't had her heart broken yet so her words are easy to speak. Perhaps this encounter was life's way of repeating the lesson that I haven't learned yet: Don't try and date anyone too young. Jake reminds me of that when I talk to him online. I think I've always done it because I use myself as the template of what I was like at a certain age and know that others can be too. It's rare, but it happens. It's rare. It's fucking rare.

I saw "The Italian Job" with Mark tonight. He told me earlier in the week that he and Randy had hung out. When he said it on the phone it was with some hesitation. I don't know if the two of them discussed not bringing it up to me or if they each individually decided that it wasn't something they wanted to talk about. To me, it doesn't matter. I just don't like to be in the dark about something. It makes it look worse than it may really be. If there is attraction between them... so be it. If there's not and there's a meeting of the minds... so be it. I have a knack for bringing together people and I suppose that's regardless of history. HISTORY... is where all of this anyway and after the Mother's Day brunch I really did clear anything lingering that weighted me down.

On Saturday, I had the opportunity to speak for PFLAG in front of a small group of people in the process of becoming foster parents. I arrived late due to not wanting to leave the comfort Shawn in my bed. So I walk in 15 minutes late to this extremely small group. There were as many panelists as there were parents in the room. This was not strictly about being gay, so the panelists were from different ethnic minorities and social workers themselves. I was the only gay person there. In this forum, there was a lot of focus on the types of kids that would be placed in foster care; the majority being neglected or abused. In telling my "coming out" story to high schools and colleges, I skip over my home life a lot because it's not always relevant to the topic at hand, but here it seemed particularly relevant. For the first time in a group of people I related my coming of age. I talked about my relationship with my mom during junior high and high school, with Ruben and the struggle of being powerless and feeling helpless. I realized just after speaking how much it hurts sometimes to still think about it. I wanted the foster parents to understand the feelings that may not be outwardly expressed by a child who has been abused that comes into their care. They will want to trust and feel loved but will have the experience of having the ones that they want love from the most betray them or hurt them. A couple of times I remember as I was speaking that the emotion was so overwhelming to me that I lost my train of thought and started talking more because I was nervous. Why do I speak for PFLAG? Why is it important? It's important because we still have teenagers killing themselves rather than being able to accept who they are. It's important for me to volunteer my time with youth coordinated events because---as I realized and felt for the first time Saturday---the stuff of my past will forever be worked out and coped with in ways that I find in helping others find shelter from their own haunting pasts. Strangely, my mother called and left a message during the time I was speaking.

Pasts. Who knew that the things of our youth would be so important and so trivial at the time. Chuck is one of my dearest friends, but when I see him with relationships, I think of Nathan with his mom. (I'm sure the argument could be made about me and my relationships too, but different issues) Identity. I keep a card that Chuck gave me for my birthday one year as a sort of IOU for a vacation trip. I hope that someday I'll be able to use it, but I'm waiting for him to meet someone that he can last with so that I can break them up. (Okay, that last sentence was a joke--it's the stuff that goes through my mind when in person my lips speak something else. You'd never know.) I want him to lose this need to control everything. He's come so far in the last seven years, but the core is still there. It's that core that ends up rubbing people into confrontation---as if he knows no love without it. As I held Edwin in my arms and he cried over the loss, I felt my internal vibe go crazy. Wires crossed. Drunken minds wandering. I could feel how much he loves Chuck and I know how much Chuck loves him. I know that the truth in this situation was the only thing that gave me patience to put up with it Friday Night.

5:22am Been working while writing. People can be such gems to talk to. Soon the sun will rise and I'll watch the overcast grayness be illuminated. What a really piss-ass ugly week it's been. Haha... "piss-ass".... oh.. making that word up made me think of Javier and his niece saying "Fuck Ass," making fun of his sister saying it. How can someone I knew so little of effect me like this?

I got to see Bobby on Saturday night. He and Joey came down and went with Chuck, Ken and I to a party in Laguna Hills. I knew they'd like to see the house. I had seen it once before. Quite remarkable. The view from the back patio would be awesome on a clear day. You could see downtown Laguna, the ocean and probably all the way out to Catalina.

6:24am I'm yawning now. 4 1/2 hours to go. Art came home from Orlando and we had some time to exchange stories of our weeks. It was good to see a smile on his face.