Just A Family Together for a Nice Evening Out

I went to a movie yesterday.  While I was downtown at a used bookstore that has a sale every second Saturday I decided to see if the movie Hugo was playing at a convenient time.  I had been wanting to see it for a while.  Lacking anything better to do, and knowing only chores waited for me at home, I headed to the theater.  

I was alone, which is no big deal.  I go to the movies by myself from time to time.  It probably sounds a little sad, but I actually enjoy doing it.  So, I buy my ticket, my buttered popcorn and my diet coke (just started migrating to diet - tastes better than I remember as a kid) and headed to the screen.  On my way, I noticed a family of three going to the same movie.  But this was a different family.  Two moms and their teenage son.  Doing what families do.  Going out together.  To a movie.  Having popcorn and cokes and fun.

If they had been paying attention, they probably would have thought I was stalking them.  But I was curious, so I sat a row behind them and just kind of observed from time to time during the movie, watching how they interacted.  It warmed my heart.  One mom put her head on the other mom's shoulder.  The young man talked to them.  They all sat and watched the movie.  When it was over, they got up and we followed each other out.  I held the door for them.  They were polite.  They were boring.  They were so hopelessly ordinary.

And it was heartwarming.  As was the movie, by the way - highly recommended.

I Can't Honestly Blame it on Being Gay

How is it possible that so often I can feel so very lonely and sad so very deeply and so very often?  I am surrounded by family and friends who love and care about me.  More than that, many of them enjoy my company immensely, even though several have every reason to despise me.  I have a good job doing what I enjoy, with colleagues whose company I enjoy, and with an income which, while it hardly makes me rich, certainly is well above average and quite comfortable for a childless single dude.  And, of course, there are the two greatest beagles in the world curled up at my feet.

All in all, I have a much, much better life than my actions have merited.  Clearly, I am evidence directly on point for House's statement that people don't get what they deserve, they just get what they get.

With all of that, I often feel incredibly lonely and sad.  And resentful for what I do not have.  I used to blame it all on being gay.  If I was just heterosexual - just a girl crazy, red blooded American boy - all would be right in the world.  But now I've grown to understand that this is just simply me.  Even if I was heterosexual, I'd still feel alone and isolated.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way.  I'm just really not that special.

We are indeed complicated creatures.

Turns Out, I Really Am A Jerk

So, I've discovered I'm really not that swell of a fellow after all.  Funny how that works.  It's like listening to missionary homecoming talks (are those even allowed now?).  I do not remember one single talk where the conquering hero came home and told his ward that he spent his entire mission screwing around and avoiding work whenever he could get away with it.  Those of us who served missions can verify that at any one time there are a significant number of missionaries in our missions who fit that bill.  Yet amazingly everyone comes home and tells tales of hard work and spiritual growth.  Screw around? Me?  Of course not, that was that other guy.

Back to me, which is where the focus should be.  My blog and all that, after all.

I've always thought of myself as a pretty nice guy.  A rough edge here or there, but pretty damn nice overall.  A recent experience has given me pause.  I left work to pick up a piece of office decor I had had framed.  Having been told the establishment was open until 6:00 p.m., I jumped in my truck around 4:45 and fought rush hour traffic for half an hour, arriving at 5:20.  Plenty of time.  Or so I thought.

When I arrived, I found a sign on the door reading "Closed at 5:15 tonight - Sorry for the inconvenience."  Needless to say I was ticked.  I had been trying for about two weeks to escape the office a little early to finally pick up the art, only to have missed the early close by 5 minutes.  So, I called and left a, shall we say, unkind message on the answering machine.  Even as I dialed the number, I thought to myself "wait and see" because perhaps there was an emergency.  But I needed to sate my righteous indignation.  You can all see this coming, right?

Sure enough, the next day I got a call saying that the owner's brother had suffered a stroke.  D'oh.  It really sucks to discover that you're a jerk.

And a materialistic jerk at that.  I just received my iPhone 4S.  I am in love.  I am enthralled.  I know not how I survived using a sad little iPhone 3GS.  I feel like Gollum:  "I loves it - my precious."

The Role of "Sex" in HomoSEXuality

I mentioned it before.  I feel a longing for physical intimacy.  A longing that has yet to be fulfilled.  I've pondered countless numbers of ways to satisfy this longing.  I've looked at personal ads on Craigslist, considered initiating social interactions at the local Gay & Lesbian Center and even thought perhaps I might use a paid online match site.  For various reasons, most of which center on the fact that I am at core a lazy coward, I've have yet to pursue any of the options.

But, as per usual with me, I've done a lot of thinking on the subject.  A part of my hesitation comes from the fact that I can't quite shake a lifetime of conditioning to think of sexual intimacy as "sacred" and "only appropriate within approved marital relationships."  Although I have come to grips with the concept that that position is opinion based on a specific social and religious structure, rather than a self-evident universal truth, it's probably unrealistic to think it won't color my outlook for the rest of my life.

But I also hesitate because, on a fundamental personal level and even in the absence of belief in a reward/punishment system created by a god, I do believe that the act of sex should not be the equivalent of eating a Snickers because they both satisfy.  So, while I don't believe in the "sacredness" of sex, I do give it a significance beyond what I assign to, say, a midnight trip to Dairy Queen (no pun intended) for a Blizzard.  Even though I do love Blizzards and may even think of them as sacred.  Anyway...

What, then, does sex mean to me and how do I meet this most fundamental desire?  I've reached the following conclusions:

1.  Sexual intimacy isn't some exalted, sacred activity that must only occur according to a set of rigid rules in narrow, prescribed circumstances. 

2.  On the other hand, I also believe that sexual intimacy has an importance and depth beyond that associated with just the everyday experiences of life.  

3.  For sexual intimacy to maintain its place as in life as a singularly meaningful experience, it cannot be treated as casually as life's other daily activities.  

4.  Sexual encounters do not have to be reserved for only those to whom we plan to make a long term commitment, but they should not be so casual as to forget that one's partner is not simply an object of pleasure. 

5.  An evening of love making can and should involve respect and caring, even if it doesn't require some kind of long term pledge.

The how to satisfy my longings in light of the above is the most difficult part.  I am tempted to go the Craigslist route, at least for the first time.  After that first experience, I might feel more relaxed to explore other horizons.  Of course, there's the safety concerns and the difficulty of finding someone I would be comfortable with.  I find the vast majority of personal ads crude, offensive and, frankly, downright silly.  Maybe I will find someone else who thinks the same way and we can share a special experience.  And maybe pigs will fly too, over the rainbow and through snowballs in Hell.

A Word on Separateness and Gay Marriage

One of the most reasonable and logical arguments against gay marriage asserts that if civil unions provide all the same rights and obligations as marriage, it matters not if marriages between homosexual couples are recognized.  On its face, this seems to be a rational, cogent and supportable argument. 

Except words and labels matter.  Two things can be functionally equivalent and yet the way they are labelled and viewed by society makes them inherently different.  And we have been down this road before my friends.

In the 1954 decision of the United States Supreme Court in Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka (No. 1) 347 US 483, the unanimous decision of the Court addressed this very question in the context of separate education facilities for black and white children which were, based on lower court findings, apparently "equal", or close to becoming equal, in the sense that buildings, curricula, teacher salaries and qualifications were roughly equivalent. 

The Court, however, felt this alone wasn't sufficient to provide equal protection of the laws required by the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution.  The Court concluded (again unanimously) that the equality of the tangible aspects of the education the black children were receiving simply wasn't enough.  The Court stated that:

To separate [the children] from others of similar age and qualifications solely because of their race generates a feeling of inferiority as to their status in the community that may affect their hearts and minds in a way unlikely ever to be undone ... The impact is greater when it has the sanction of the law, for the policy of separating the races is usually interpreted as denoting the inferiority of the negro group ...  Separate educational facilities are inherently unequal.  347 US 483, 494-495 (emphasis added).

Many will no doubt draw distinctions between race and sexual orientation, especially those who believe homosexuality is a "choice".  Others will say that children are a unique group particularly sensitive to and affected by social stigma, which of course ignores the impact of persistent and systemic government-endorsed discrimination against homosexuals on children's attitudes.

But Brown clearly stands for the proposition that, under the United States Constitution, the fact that two things are equivalent as a practical matter changes not one whit the conclusion that the government recognition and endorsement of their separateness in and of itself is unconstitutional.

Words matter.  Labels make a difference.  No matter how equivalent civil unions are made in a functional sense, as long as government recognition of homosexual couples is separate from its recognition of heterosexual couples, homosexuals will be denied the equal protection of the laws.

Not that I would be getting married any time soon.  But I'm just saying...

Just Not That Into It

I've never really been social.  It's not so much that I think I'm really all that awkward.  I can make conversation and even become animated, interested, even interesting at times.  However, given the choice between (A) going to a dance or party with a big mass of people, and (B) staying home on the couch and curling up with a good book or watching a movie, I would always choose B.  

I'm fine one-on-one.  I'm fine in large groups where I am the speaker or in control of the room.  But I'm not much for chit chat and never cared for large crowds.  They just make me tired.  Perfect example:  I absolutely HATE Las Vegas.  Or I should say the strip part of Las Vegas.  Crowded with loud, sweaty, obnoxious people and little old ladies snapping and then handing cards to you advertising establishments of, how shall I say it, ill repute.  Not for me.

I do get that some people, even many people, are really into big crowds.  That they feed off of the energy and are just naturally extroverted and seek a good time.  But that isn't who I am at all.  Making myself do it, which I have from time to time, is not the same as enjoying it.

I don't think there's anything wrong with how I feel.  It just is.  But there is definitely a downside.  Because I don't venture to places with big crowds, it's hard to meet someone and create the intimate, one-on-one type of opportunities that I do enjoy.  Being gay makes it especially difficult because the world of possibilities is so narrow.  The odds of meeting someone at work or at a bookstore or wherever quiet, non-partiers like me go is that much harder.  

My straight friends can generally assume that the objects of their interest are heterosexual.  Said objects may not reciprocate such interest, but that would be because they don't find their pursuer interesting, not that they don't find his gender as a group unappealing.  Not so for me.  I operate on the assumption that the other person is not attracted to men as a rule.

What to do then?  Well, I could go to a gay, or gayish, bar.  There's a lovely one right here in town, so I am told.  Or I could toddle off to the Lambda Center or whatever it's called.  Yup, one of those here too.  I'm in luck!  Except...Well here we are right back at the beginning.  Those places involve crowds.

I jokingly referred to the idea of a personal ad in my last post.  But I'm actually seriously considering it.    A nice quiet evening involving dinner, a movie and the loss of my virginity really is appealing.

Either that or find a nice, gay crowd.  Eeeck.

If I Wrote a Personal Ad

Here's what it would say:

43 yo gay swm looking for love.  Me:  Short, balding and paunchy with lots of life baggage, emotional and otherwise. Into photography, day hikes in the mountains, Lego building and movie watching.  You be:  Under 30, incredibly good looking in a Neil Patrick Harris kind of way, and fit.  Must be willing to tolerate a moody, hard-to-please, middle-aged dude whose idea of an exciting weekend is watching the Star Wars Trilogy (the real ones from pre-1990) and reading books.  Must love Beagles and sleeping with a fan on all night.

And that is why I don't do personal ads.

Wow - Half Dome Is A Lot Harder at 43 Than at 16

So, I figure I'd sneak a September post in, just in case the three people who read this might be interested in my highlights for the month.  

After a summer of preparation, I finally did it.  I climbed the cables at Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.  I had done it twice before, but this was significantly different.  First, I was 12 and 16 the first two times, and today I am ... not 12 or 16 or even 12 added to 16.  Second, I made the trip from Yosemite Valley itself, whereas the first two times I spent the night in Little Yosemite Valley, which shaves approximately 2,000 feet in elevation change and 8 or so miles off the trip.

So, round trip from Yosemite Valley is approximately 14 to 16 miles, depending on which signs/maps/websites you believe.  The elevation change is somewhere in the range of 4,500 feet in the 7 to 8 miles it takes to get to the top.  The hike involves climbing steep granite steps to the top of two waterfalls and up to the top of the "subdome" at the base of Half Dome itself.  It was grueling and the hardest thing I've ever done.  And worth every minute of it.  

And I actually made it.  I'm sounding very vain I know, but I'm proud of myself.  I hiked many weekends this summer and walked during the week most days to get ready.  I invested in excellent Teva hiking shoes and a Camelback hydration pack.  So, I poured my soul, time and money into it and I'm feeling pretty good about accomplishing something worthwhile.

I went with my best friend, who is young and in top physical shape and very patient.  My two older brothers came along too, and while they gave it the old college try, they had to "settle" for a 10 mile hike in magnificent, beautiful country that almost makes me think there is a god.  Almost anyway.  Really, it just couldn't have been any better.  I love my pal and my brothers and I love Yosemite.  Who could ask for more?  Cross that one off of the bucket list.

So, now I have a picture to add to the website and actually go with the one that has been here all along - with a 25 year spread.  I would have tried to match the perspective better, but (A) I forgot the printout of the picture I made just for the trip so I had to take it from memory, (B) the picture from the 1980s was much closer to the edge - apparently I was considerably braver or dumber (you decide) and there was no way I was going there, and (C) we were pressed for time because a storm was coming.  I won't get into the details, but the climb down the cables was terrifying.  Didn't realize granite was so slick when it is wet.

Without further ado, here is the conquering hero:

Rounding out the month, I built this lovely new Lego set:

Where Everybody Knows Your Name....

There are several common themes that run through the MoHo world.  Among those is the often perplexing subject of our relationship with the LDS church.  At one end, some have genuine faith in its divinity.  These good folks strive to be active, faithful and live the doctrine, even if all the answer aren't there and in spite of the ignorance they encounter from time to time.  Then there is the polar opposite.  MoHos who have rejected the Church, its divinity and in fact see it as a negative harmful thing.  Often those who fall in this category are angry and resentful of the harm they feel they have suffered, and perhaps continue to suffer, because of the Church.

But what of the broad middle?  Those of us who do not fall at one extreme or the other.  Unscientifically, my instinct tells me these folks are perhaps 70% to 80% of the MoHo world.  As with all things in life, this massive middle isn't one-size-fits all.  Some try to live close to the Church while not embracing it in total.  Others have pretty much rejected the divinity of the Gospel, and perhaps even religion in total, and yet to varying degrees haven't made a complete separation from the Church even if the connection is no more than allowing their names to stay on the records of the Church.

I make no judgments regarding anyone's choices in this area.  In fact, I would be the very last person with any right to make, or legitimacy in making, judgements of anyone's decision about anything.  But, I will state that the last sentence of the paragraph immediately above fits me perfectly.  I have virtually nothing to do with the church, and am an extremely skeptical agnostic.  What little contact I do have revolves around attending functions and the odd sacrament meeting from time to time in connection with special events for family and friends.  And, as yet, I haven't been able to bring myself to ask to have my records removed, although I have considered it often.

Given my views of religion in general and the LDS church in particular, and in light of my skepticism of all things supernatural, be they God, Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy, why oh why do I not just sever the ties that bind?  I have often considered this issue.  For a very long time I thought that it was strictly tradition, which is long and deep in my family.  The natural desire for continuity and connection.  I also believed that, because many of my experiences were positive and I had much to be grateful for (especially as a teen),there was a natural headwind that overwhelmed what little effort I have been willing to make to write that letter, and then follow it through, though to be very honest I doubt I would get any real resistance from the Church's end.  I am kind of the bastard at the family reunion, but then that's a whole other subject.

Suddenly, about two weeks ago, I had an epiphany.  I was watching a YouTube video where the artist had made a medley of television show theme songs.  One of them was the theme from Cheers.  If you are 30+, you undoubtedly recall the popular, long running TV series from the 1980s.  If you are a bit younger, you've likely heard of it.

It dawned on me that the draw of the LDS Church is found in the following lines:

Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got.
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.
Wouldn't you like to get away?
Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows
Your name.
You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows
your name.

There it is.  It's a tough, vicious, cold world out there.  And the LDS church always gave me a place to be where I felt a connection.  Where, literally, everybody knew my name.  I didn't realize until just then how much that meant to me.  How much I relied on it over a lifetime of being afraid.  And how, even today, I still don't want to lose it despite my complete rejection of the Church and the idea of God, and even with full knowledge that the Church no longer wants me.

But sooner or later, I will have to let it go.  Because, you see, homosexuals are really not "all the same" to most folks in the Church.  Our troubles are not "all the same" either.  I believe most members readily understand and are compassionate about many weaknesses because, somewhere on the inside, they know they could have those very weaknesses themselves.  Drugs, alcohol, even adultery are things they can empathize with.  

Homosexuality is something completely different.  I think most members can't even sympathize with homosexuality, much less have empathy for those GLBT folks in their midst.  In short, I don't think members in general are "glad we came" unless we pretend to be what they expect us to be, or at least agree not to bring our homosexuality lest we make anyone uncomfortable.

No, the LDS church is a place to show conformity, not non-conformity.  Homosexuals, and anyone else who simply marches to a different drummer, are not truly, openly welcome unless they check their true selves at the door.

I now understand that the price of admission is too high.  To put it in the context of Cheers, if I can't be me at the bar, I'd rather drink alone.

Guilt and Shame

So much of my life, for so long, was centered on guilt and shame.  Guilt for any of a variety of things, ranging from being attracted to other males to masturbation to not adhering to every tenant of my religion.  This reality, although probably not a novelty to many of my friends reading this, really just occurred to me over the last few weeks.

I think, perhaps, that is the most difficult challenge that came from a Mormon upbringing, although I don't believe by any means that it is a Mormon-exclusive.  No, I think most religions tend to emphasize guilt and shame as their primary (if sometimes unspoken) method of direction and control. 

For example, when I was around 8 or 9, I told my mother that I didn't want to fast on fast Sunday.  Her response was that she wasn't going to make me, that it was my choice, but that it was what Heavenly Father wanted me to do.  I appreciate to this day that she did not try to force me to fast, but I also recognize that guilt was the primary tool she was using.  Instead of suggesting that there were some positive things that could come from fasting (learning to be in charge of myself, learning to enjoy a good meal more at the end of a fast and even pleasing God), I felt shamed into doing the "right" thing.

So went life.  Guilt because I didn't read my scriptures, guilt because I was attracted to other boys, guilt because I was a connoisseur of self-love.  In short, guilt because I was, well, me.  Flash forward 30 years and I managed to really screw up my life.

I'm left to wonder, as I so often am, about the "what might have beens".  Perhaps if I had learned to accept who I was when I was younger, things could have been different.  The mistakes I made and damage I've done were all products of my choices.  Never been big on blaming other people or organizations for my mistakes.

But what if I had just worried less about what I was doing wrong?  Or been taught to worry less about it, and then found it natural not to.  What if I had focused more on the right and good things about myself?  I think I could have more easily approached people for help with the emotional problems I had, and in turn avoided a lot of grief and pain for myself and others.  Perhaps the ability to look for the good in myself would likely have helped me confront and fix the bad.

I do understand that guilt and shame serve important roles in society.  They are both necessary mechanisms of regulating interactions among us given our inherently selfish natures.  The absence of some fear of public disapproval for actions that are unacceptable would be disastrous given our shared environment and natural pursuit of own self interest without regard to others.  And legitimate guilt for wrongs caused to others, when used as a motivation to make things right and do things better, is useful. Some of the more enlightened church leaders understand and emphasize this.  Jeffrey Holland and the wonderful George Durrant (see his talk from years ago at BYU - Number 1 Christian) are perfect examples.

But, on the balance, guilt and shame have had a lasting negative effect in my life.  I've been left with permanent scars that would not otherwise be there but for focusing on them.  How I wish things could have been different.  If I had children, I think that would be the one thing I would hope to teach them.  That shame and guilt for genuine mistakes, particularly where others are harmed, is helpful, but that they should focus on all that is good and right in them.

Accepted or Excepted

Accept:

"to receive with approval or favor"

Except:

"to exclude; leave out"

I am very fortunate in many ways.  My family and friends, the vast majority of whom are active LDS, have been loving, compassionate and understanding of my sexual orientation.  I cannot recall a cross or condemning word spoken about my being gay.  At least not within my hearing.  When I read posts about hurt, angry and even downright hostile attitudes some of the other members of our little community have to face, I really do recognize how lucky I have been.  So, I feel somewhat ungrateful and not a little whiny for even writing this post.

But, I simply can't help but feel like my sexuality is mostly just tolerated.  That instead of being accepted without reservation, in some intangible way I am excepted from the "normal" world that my family and friends inhabit.  While everyone one around me can talk about their heterosexual romances and interests, or those of their children/friends/siblings, any discussion of my sexual interests seems unwelcome.  "The love whose name cannot be spoken" so-to-speak.  And this isn't limited to my LDS friends.  I have found that those outside of Mormon culture, even those with no real religious beliefs at all, would often just rather not acknowledge the issue.

Again, this isn't open hostility.  Far from it.  In fact, the few occasions when I have mentioned an attraction or referred expressly to my homosexuality have not resulted in any awful experiences.  Just a slight undercurrent of discomfort.  And I have at least four friends, three LDS and one not, who seem to be perfectly comfortable with casual, random discussions of my sexuality or romantic longings.

Why does this really matter?  In many ways it doesn't.  I've never been an "out and proud" kind of guy.  I've always considered sexuality a mostly private and personal topic, whether one is straight or gay.  I simply don't see a need to wear a rainbow button. 

But, in the unlikely event that I ever find an outlet for my sexuality, it will create a problem.  If I actually ended up with a boyfriend or, gasp, got married to a guy, I believe it would be very difficult to continue to socialize with at least some of my friends and family.  I often wonder how I would be able to bring my dream guy to a family event.  Too much 'splainin needed methinks.  And I'm sympathetic.  How does my active LDS brother, whose core religious values scream that everything such a relationship stands for is wrong, explain it to his children?  How does my father, a former bishop, wrap his mind around such a open demonstration of who and what I am?  What if I had a picture of my boyfriend on my desk at work, which is something I would do by the way?  All these things are comfortably avoided right now.

No matter.  I'm probably over thinking it all anyway.  The honest truth is that I will most likely never have the opportunity to see how it would work out.  The most I can see possibly happening is a little fun in the sack at some point; maybe some evenings out.  But even that would be a stretch.

It would be nice, though, to think I could have a committed relationship with someone I loved AND be accepted by my family and friends instead of excepted from their normal world of acceptable relationships.

What Kind of Jelly Belly Eater Are you? And Other Silly Thoughts...

1.  I was recently at a Jelly Belly store at the factory outlets.  Such variety.  Such selection.  But the thing is, I only like certain jelly bean flavors.  And I'm not really willing to try anything else.  That's how I am.  I can and do often decide that I don't "like" something without even trying it.  So as I see it, the world is divided up into two groups.  The first group consist of those who buy the mixed "Belly Flop" bags, grab a handful and just pop them in their mouths.  The second group consists of those who have to pick through the "Belly Flop" bag and will only eat the ones they want, or who insist on mixing their own bag with the "right" flavors.  I am decidedly in the latter category.  So unwilling to try anything new...what a shame.

2.  Speaking of variety, why is it necessary to have so many options for drying one's hands in public restrooms?  I mean, a single restroom will often have two or more choices.  Paper towels with multiple subcategories such as single towel dispensers (you know the ones that, when you pull one out, you often end up with 10, which you stack neatly on the counter), crank dispensers, lever dispensers, automatic dispensers and simple pull dispensers.  Then there are the air dryers, including the new ones where you stick your hands in a little trough and pull them out like when you drive your car through the dryer at the automatic car wash.  Of course, some types are now extinct.  Anyone remember the cloth loops?  I think you have to be 35 or older to remember those.  Makes sense that they are gone if you think about it.  Even when I was little I always was a bit uncomfortable with the idea of someone wiping their hands on the same towel.  I mean, what if they didn't use soap?

My point is, and yes there really is one, why do we complicate life so?  My house is full of electronic gadgets of every variety.  I have spent countless frustrating hours learning to use them, all to make life easier and more convenient I tell myself.  And then, often as not, they end up forgotten in a drawer like abandoned stuffed animals.  I think we just crave complication.  And yet I love to do simple things like hike, but of course must bring my camera, iPhone and DeLorme GPS (one of my latest purchases) along.

3.  Speaking of hiking, here are a few pictures from Ralston Peak near Lake Tahoe:

Lake Tahoe in the Background

4.  If you got to the end here, I just want to finish by reiterating that I would like to have sex at least once before I die - with someone other than myself I mean.  I've carped about this before, so I'm just being a whiny little b*(*h, but seriously it would be nice.  I'm to the point that I would honestly rent some love if I could be sure (a) I wouldn't be arrested, and (b) I wouldn't get a disease.  It would be nice, too, if the service provider enjoyed his job.  See, I'd really much rather prefer to have more than just a hump session.  But at this point I'd settle for it.

5.  Have a good Saturday and rest of the weekend.  If you tolerated this bizarre post, you deserve it!

How Did You Spend Your Memorial Day? (Warning: Nerd Alert)

So, once again the Lego urge took control.  Spent a part of my Memorial Day afternoon putting this bad boy together.  Next is the Maersk cargo ship that has been sitting on the shelf staring at me for a few weeks.

It's an Imperial Star Destroyer for all of you unfamiliar with Star Wars.

"LGB" I Get . . . "T" Not So Much

Ok, I'm going to freely admit that I'm a hypocrite to some extent.  And I think by lack of understanding and prejudice keep me from being too judgmental of those who just cannot understand or accept homosexuals. I just do not understand how anyone can be transgendered.

Yes, I'm gay.  Yes, I am attracted to guys.  But I'm very much comfortable and happy being a male.  I certainly wouldn't want to be a female.

I try, but fail, to comprehend how someone can be one gender physically yet have a mental state of the opposite gender.  I want to understand.  I know I should understand because I ask, even expect, those around me to understand my gayness.  The spirit is very much willing...But I just don't get it.

I doubt I'm alone in this regard.

Disappointment

I believed in the people around me too easily.  They believed in me too easily.  And we all ended up mostly disappointed.

Now I’m left bitter and full of regret.  For the life I might have had and the business partner, friend, brother, son, cousin and uncle I could, even should, have been.  All for the want of a little honesty and character.

The LDS Club - No One Forces Us to be Members

The LDS Church is really just a club to me.  Like any other club, it has membership rules, a purpose, a set of policies and a mostly like-minded membership.  Join or not, stay a member or not - it's up to you.  But if you are going to join, and certainly if you are going to participate, be prepared to live by the club's rules.

It reminds me of community associations (ie. HOAs, homeowners associations, etc.) in a way.  In my past life, I represented them as legal counsel.  The communities vary in the nature and intrusiveness of their rules.  Some are quite mild, providing only for common area maintenance and basic rules such as not leaving your piece of garbage car on the street.  Others are extremely controlling, actually painting the homes, cutting front lawns, prohibiting parking on driveways and requiring approval of all architectural changes by a committee.  

All of which I have no problem with.  Not that I'd necessarily want to live in a controlling community.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't.  But the thing is, the choice is purely voluntary.  Don't like a community's rules?  Don't buy a house in the community.  There are plenty of options out there.  If you do buy a house in the community, don't then expect the community to change to meet your personal preferences.  Otherwise, the people who bought in the community specifically because they wanted those rules enforced are being cheated out of their choice.

If you believe that there is a god, and that the LDS church is key to pleasing him, then suck it up and live with the rules.  The way I see it, it's not an almost proposition.  One cannot accept only the parts one likes if in fact it is "the true Church".  A "pick and choose" approach is evidence of a weak belief in the theology in the first place.

I do not believe the LDS church is divine, nor do I accept that its leaders speak for god, a being of whose existence I have grave doubts.  As I said, the LDS church is a club.  Many people find much satisfaction and purpose in this club.  In so many ways, it was a wonderful organization to be a part of as I was growing up.  I believe the overwhelming majority of its leaders, on both a local and worldwide level, are good, honest people who desire to help, edify and lift others.  There are exceptions (Boyd Packer comes quickly to mind), but the exceptions prove the general application of the rule. 

However, it's not for me.  I'm too different from what is expected of a good LDS member.  Because no matter how you slice it, gay folks really aren't welcome unless they reject their sexuality.  I'm not a good fit, so I don't participate.

But, I also don't ask the LDS church to change for me.  Sometimes I think that many of us in the MoHo community, and even the gay community at large, will never give the LDS church, or any other religion or private organization, a rest until it conforms to our expectations of what it should be. 

There has been a very lively debate following a blog post on a recent talk by Elder Bednar regarding homosexuality and the Church.  Very lively.  And I've participated.  In the end, however, it dawned on me that many of the commentators simply will not be happy until the church, through its representatives, says what they want to hear - that it's ok to be gay, come on in and lead your lives openly as homosexuals.  I agree with that statement.  I don't agree that the LDS Church needs to be pummeled until it makes it. 

I think we need to move beyond that.  I repeat, membership in the LDS church is voluntary.  If I organized a club, I would resent outsiders telling me how it should be run, or members joining and then deciding that I should change the club's basic charter to meet their desires.  Go form your own club, I would say.

Now, I do believe the church becomes a legitimate target when it begins to promote infringements on my personal liberty.  However, this happens rarely, such as with its zealous support of California's Proposition 8.  And, frankly, if it had it to do over again, I don't believe the Church would be as vociferous as it was.

I think debate is healthy.  I would never discourage respectful disagreement with the Church's position.  But I think the bitterness that often accompanies it is unnecessary and is at best useless and at worst positively counterproductive.  The true believers cannot have their minds changed because they believe that any deviation from the church's teachings will prevent them from exaltation.  Matters of faith simply are not subject to normal arguments based on reason.  That is why it is called faith.

So, here's to forming or finding our own clubs.  Places where we can feel accepted for who we are.  And here's also to allowing our believing LDS brothers and sisters to do the same without mocking or maligning their choices.

Early Signs of Gayness

Yeah, I know.  I've been posting a lot lately.  I have no idea why.  

I was making a ring tone out of the "Dear John" song from Saturday's Warrior.  My oldest brother's name is John. We are very close and talk pretty often on the phone.  I set a snip of the song as his ring tone so I'd know he was calling.  

Yes, that's probably pretty gay all by itself, not to mention nerdy.  But it got me remembering that, when I was 6 or 7, I absolutely loved the soundtrack to the play.  We were living in Riverside, CA (the boring part of Southern California) during my dad's last assignment before he retired from the Air Force.  My parents had gone to the play and came home with the LP.  We had also just bought this really cool new combo record player/radio/cassette player.  And a Carpenters album.  I listened to both records over, and over, and over again.  Until I could sing all of the songs - I still know most of the lyrics.  And I still like both albums.

My parents never said anything.  In fact, when I was 12, my mom took me to see Saturday's Warrior when it came to town - the real play, not that stupid, worthless disgrace of a movie that came much later.  My older siblings never teased me about my obsession.  But geez louise, could anything scream more gay than that?  It's practically a crime that no one told me I was gay.  A little warning before the onset of puberty might have helped for heaven's sakes. 

Aside from the fact that almost all of my early investigations into the practice of medicine involved other boys, this was the first real indication of my gayness.

Now, I think I'll go listen to my Saturday's Warrior soundtrack, or maybe the Carpenters album with the big heart on it.

What was the earliest sign that you were going to peg the gay geiger counter?

What If You Could Have a Different Life?

I often wonder what it would have been like to have a completely different life.  And it really has nothing to do with the life I have.  Or mostly nothing anyway.  But, I do catch myself pondering who and what I would been and what I would have done if, say, I was born to a family in Sweden.  How would I view the world around me?  What experiences would I have had?  I just think it's fun to consider it sometimes.  Perhaps I would be basically them same person with a different native language and community.  Maybe I would have been someone completely different.

I'm not suggesting that I would actually trade my life for that or any other imagined life.  As badly as I have failed in life, I don't think I would want to give up my current family and friends.  I have truly enjoyed the last couple of years in the MoHo blog word.  I wouldn't want to have missed out on that either.  And I've had a few wonderful dogs.  And I've seem some amazing national parks and other wonders, natural and otherwise.  And I have great memories of high school, before school seminar and camping with buddies.  And, and, and....

Nope, on the balance, I don't think I'd trade my life away.  But it's still fun to wonder.

I Just Can't Let the Past Go

Of my many flaws, I think this is the one most fatal:  I cannot let the past go.  Now, I realize most of us ponder our past, think about the "what ifs" of life, consider what might have happened had we made different choices.  Nothing wrong with that provided it's properly balanced with consideration of the present and thoughts of the future.

Me, I can't let go of the regrets, mistakes and lost opportunities of the past.  Naturally, like everyone, I have to live with the consequences of poor choices and bad decisions.  I realize no one escapes that.  But I feel so bad about my present and am not really optimistic about my future, or even that there will be all that much time left in my future, that I fall back into a pit of despair over what might have been.

I so wish that I could have grown up in a time and environment which would have allowed me to pursue my natural romantic and sexual desires.  I would have gotten so much more out of my life.  I would have avoided the heartache that came from being unable to consider, much less really pursue, a relationship.  Maybe most of all, being myself as a teenager would have made a huge difference in who I became as a man; so much damage to myself, and more importantly others, would have been avoided.

All of which I have whined about before.  I am a reasonably intelligent person.  I know it is worthless to dwell on such things.  And yet, here it is, 2:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning, and I can't stop thinking about it.  I am filled with pain and regret with absolutely no point.  I can do nothing about the past; I can only try to make the best of what future I have left. 

Why can't I just get on with it already?  I am haunted by what cannot be changed.

Scattered Pictures...

Memories,
Like the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures,
Of the smiles we left behind...

Barbara Streisand / The Way We Were

Ok, that may be the gayest song ever, with apologies to the Carpenters.  But, I love photographs.  Truly.  And, although I am much more interested in pictures of places and things than I once was, I still very much like to have people in my pictures.  While I always protest and claim to not want to be photographed, I really like to be in the shot. 

Today, for the first time, I think I realized why.  In the first place, I just plain like photography.  I understand it better now, although I am frequently frustrated that I don't have more talent for it.  Same way with basketball, but that's another story.

Plain and simple, I want to be remembered.  I want the people I have shared my life with not to forget who I am when I am gone.  And I hope those memories are good, at least to the people that matter to me.  I have no children, and never will.  It's unlikely that I will ever have a companion in my life.  So I'm left with pictures as a way to remind the small group of people to whom I have some importance that I existed.  I guess we all generally crave a bit of immortality.  I mean, what else is the appeal of the promise of the Earth's religions?  

Pictures are my immortality, such as it is.  I want some scattered pictures, some memories of the way I was once the time comes that I am gone.

Isn't The Earth an Amazing Place?

Got up for some snowshoeing in the Sierra Nevada mountain range today. What a beautiful world we have. I try to remember that when life doesn't seem so terrific. Good times with a good friend up in the quiet of the mountains. The best part of where I live is that it's close to everything. Under two hours to the mountains. Under two hours to the Pacific Ocean.

Yes, I Miss Being a Real Mormon

No, in fact, I no longer believe Mormon theology. Or in God in general. In truth, I never really have. I do not miss the internal struggle or doubt. The crises of conscience that came from being a missionary and Sunday School teacher who desperately wanted what he was saying to be true, but never really felt it in his heart. All of which I have written about previously, so will not be unnecessarily repetitive here.

I do, however, miss being a part of the Mormon "family". In my opinion, this is the very best part of the Church. I am old enough to remember vividly "pre-block" days, when being LDS meant at least two, three if you were old enough, trips to the chapel on Sunday. When primary was on Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon around 3:30, with nary a man in sight because the dads were all still at work. The ward parties, Gold and Green Balls, breakfasts, welfare farm work projects, etc., etc., etc. Even today, being LDS is more than a religion. It's an entire culture and lifestyle. And I miss it very much.

Most of all, I am grateful for what it offered me as a youth. I was a very geeky, insecure teenager. No self confidence at all. Lucky for me, I fell into a ward and stake with amazingly accepting youth. The group I hung around with in high school ran the gamut, from geeky me to the varsity basketball team star. What's more, there was a bond among the Mormon kids that bridged age differences. It was common and very accepted in my school for a senior to be kind, friendly and even (gasp) recognize the existence of a freshman.

I recognize that this made us cliquey and insular. Had we really lived our religion better we would have been more inclusive of non-members. I also acknowledge that the pain of my closeted homosexuality was made worse by my religious background.

But I'm still grateful because without that group of people, several of whom I number among my best friends even today (see Derek's comment to a prior post), I doubt I would have survived high school. I needed so desperately to be loved and accepted. And I was. And that is why, despite all of the struggles I have with the Church and its unrealistic and sometimes cruel stance towards homosexuals, I will always think of myself as Mormon and will never forget what a blessing that was as youth.

So, thank you LDS Church. I disagree with you profoundly, but like a child who finally discovers that his parents are indeed imperfect humans, will always think of you fondly.

Yes, Homosexuals are Abnormal

According to Webster’s II New College Dictionary (2001), the adjective “abnormal” means:

Departing from the normal

Since most people are, in fact, heterosexual, not homosexual, homosexuals are by definition abnormal.  Today, it dawned on me that the proper response should be “so what?” or even perhaps “hurray for us gays.”

Think about it.  Being abnormal is often a compliment.  For instance, most folks would like to be:

Abnormally intelligent
Abnormally good looking
Abnormally wealthy
Abnormally healthy
Abnormally wise

And another thing.  It occurs to me that Mormons take a certain pride in being a “peculiar” (which my dictionary tells me means unusual or eccentric: odd) people.  One might say LDS folks take abnormal pride in being peculiar.


So if it’s good sometimes to be abnormal, and if being homosexual is one of those good abnormalities, why is it that I’d rather be straight?  I think it’s because I want to “baaaaa” with the rest of the sheep.

Fun Movie - If You Don't Mind "Reading" Your Cinema

I was a little surprised by how much I liked this movie.  Yes, it's predictable.  Yes, it's a feel good film.  At least if you aren't homophobic!  So what?

I liked it.  It was fun to see a slice of life in Sweden. I haven't the first clue if it's an accurate portrayal.  I'm sure that like most movies it's probably exaggerated and over-sentimentalized.  But it was sweet - a word that comes up consistently in the Amazon reviews for the film.

If you are lucky enough to have a significant other, a bowl of popcorn and a nothing-to-do Friday night, and you aren't a total cynic, enjoy!

Life, Liver and Getting What I Deserve

My liver is not happy.  I have stage 3/4 cirrhosis on a scale of 1 to 4.  Not good.  I’ve mentioned my health issues tangentially in previous posts, but now is my “coming out” to my web friends.  Here’s the real irony:  I have partaken of alcohol perhaps 3 times in my life, two of which were when I was 18 and in Hawaii.  Ha!  So, I have the liver of a 60 year old alcoholic without enjoying the anesthetized life that such self-medication brings. 

Nope, I have “fatty liver disease” of all things!  It appears to be genetic.  When my mother passed in her early 60s, the doctor asked how long she had been an alcoholic.  This was a lifelong LDS woman who I seriously doubt ever had more than a sip of beer, if that even.

I’ve known about this for about 1 1/2 years now.  But the word “transplant evaluation” came up during my last doctor visit.  Not as in right now, but more like in the future.  Yes, the future, but not so much in the future that it wasn’t worthy of a discussion by the doctor.  Of course I’m told I could go many years with elevated liver enzymes and do fine, then deal with a transplant.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m sharing all of this except to ruminate on whether the following statement by House (you know, from the TV series) is true:

People don’t get what they deserve.  They just get what they get.

True or not true?  I think true because I do not believe in the supernatural (ie. God in any of his recognized forms, magic, Harry Potter, Bewitched, etc.).  Still, a part of me says that I’m getting exactly what I so very richly deserve.  Because, as I have mentioned before, I have truly merited my affliction.  I have lived a shallow life that is, unmistakably, a failure.

Good friends disagree because they love me and because I have been mostly a positive influence in their lives.  But, objectively, there is no argument that I have failed.  I did not live up to my potential – not even close.  And I have made mistakes which will forever preclude me from doing so.  I have hurt and disappointed those around me.  Honestly evaluated, without prejudice or emotion, my life is a failure.  I’m not complaining about where I am, because it is what it is and having failed brings a somewhat ironic advantage.  Kind of like surviving a disaster.  But I will save my thoughts on that subject for another post.

All of that said, I still believe we just get what we get.  That life is not fair.  That life is a continuum of random events.  We may determine some of what happens through choices and effort, but much (if not most) of what happens to is is out of our control.

January 2011 - Good Riddance

Can January please end already?  February has to be better.  Right?

The Meaning of a Moment

 “And I knew surely, clearly that life is not a work of art, and that the moment could not last” – A River Runs Through It

How is it that an event can be so significant and memorable to me, yet be so meaningless and forgettable to my fellow travelers?

Summer 2003.  Four of us take a road trip to the Grand Canyon and through Southern Utah.  A late afternoon swim at Glen Canyon Dam, followed by a game while traveling and a beautiful drive through Zion National Park.  To me, four of the most relaxed, peaceful and pleasant hours I have ever spent.  I still fall asleep to the memories of this experience, especially of the drive through Zion.  The cool evening air made even more satisfying by the beauty of the setting sun shimmering off the canyon walls.  A deep feeling of love and appreciation for the friends who were with me.  A defining, permanent memory. 

And yet, in discussing the experience with my companions these years later, it seems to have not made any impression on them whatsoever.  A fine day during a fun trip – nothing more.  Moreover, we are hardly even friends now anymore.  Too harsh perhaps.  More accurate to say that we are now acquaintances who were once friends.

I am at a loss to explain it.  Except to say that I attribute the deepness of feeling and the significance of the experience to the reality of my being gay.  Maybe I’m playing to a stereotype, but I truly feel that my sensitivity to emotional experiences and the feelings that run deep within me are directly related to the fact that I am homosexual.

Now, I don’t believe that only gay folks are capable or inclined in this manner.  In fact, my best friend is as straight as they come, and yet I’m not sure I know anyone who feels deeper than he does.  But even he tends to be less expressive of, and more reserved with, his feelings that I do.

The truth is, I do not like being gay.  I wish I was heterosexual with a wife, family, minivan and little league/dance recitals.  But I’m not.  And I never will be straight or have that life.  So, I’m going to just be grateful that the gay in me allows me to feel deeply, attach emotionally and otherwise be sensitive to the more tender parts of living.  Not sure that the result of all that feeling will be a long life, but I am nevertheless grateful for it.