Dear Mom and Dad -

My parents are celebrating their wedding anniversary this weekend and I decided it might be in poor taste telling them I'm gay during their celebration. So I am giving it a few days and then I'm going to tell them later this week.  However it plays out, I am planning on giving them this letter.  If you can, please consider sending me some mental warm fuzzies and other loving thoughts.  Thanks.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I love you.  Thank you for being the best parents you could be and for loving me.  Thank you for supporting me during some very tough and difficult times during my life. My mission and my time at BYU were both incredibly challenging at times and I appreciate your love and compassion.  Honestly, there were seemingly countless times I wanted to leave BYU or come home from my mission but your love and support were often all that kept me out.  Thank you for that.

Moving forward, I hope as you read this letter and as we work through the next stage of my life, I hope you will continue to know how much I love you. None of us are perfect and there have been times throughout my life that have been challenging for all of us.  I’m sure in the future we will face additional challenges, too, but I hope and pray that we will be able to work through them and only grow in our love and support for each other.

It has always been my intention and desire to have this conversation, in its entirety, in person but I don’t trust myself to effectively share all that I have in my heart and in my mind.  I hope that this letter answers many of your questions and responds to some of your concerns.

I have prayerfully considered my future over the last several years and, as I have become more honest with myself and with God, I believe it’s now time to be more honest with you, too. Mom and Dad, I am gay. Both of you have made what you think about homosexuals abundantly clear.  I know you believe it’s a choice and a fad but I promise you that it is not. Why would I, or anyone else for that matter, choose to jeopardize relationships with family and friends, risk being cut off and ostracized by their church and congregation, or settle for living and being treated as a second-class citizen?  If I could have chosen to change, I would have more than a decade ago.

In fact, I have tried for the last 15 years to change who I am and who I’m attracted to but I can’t.  I have spent a small fortune on counseling and medication to try and “fix” myself.  I dated women religiously and spoke with church leaders and studied everything the church had on the subject and the answers were always the same: read my scriptures more, go to the temple more, go to seminary, go to BYU, go on a mission, date lots of nice, Mormon girls, and everything will work out. I was told that this was just like any other trial and that by my faith I could be healed.

Well, I did all of these things and, as nothing changed, I began to believe that it would be better for me to kill myself rather than subject you, my parents, to the pain and shame of having a gay son. I have tried to commit suicide twice (nearly succeeding the first time) and I still consider death as an option on an almost daily basis. It is no way to live and I can’t do it any longer.

But, like I said, I have been doing a lot of praying and fasting and I have come to the conclusion that I am who I am and that God is okay with that.  I am tired of beating myself up for something I didn’t choose.  I’m tired of feeling like a failure because I cannot change who I am. And finally, I’m tired of hiding who I am from you and from everyone else.

I’m sure one of the biggest questions you have right now is how this is affecting my relationship with the church.  Truthfully, most of the pain and suffering I have felt and dealt with over the last decade has been a direct result of ignorant members and leaders in the church saying painful, ignorant things.  I can only be called psychologically handicapped, broken, unworthy, and an “enemy to the family” so many times before I start to feel angry, bitter, and abandoned – and that is where I’m at right now.

As I have worried about telling you this part of my life, I have wondered how you would react and what you would think.  I’ll be honest, none of the scenarios seem to end very well in my head.  Regardless of how things play out from this point forward, though, I want you to know that I am still me.  You raised me with a strict moral compass and I have done my best to live by it my entire life.  I have a firm understanding of what is right and what is wrong and I strive every day to treat others with respect and compassion. I am not a lascivious person and I am committed to being a positive influence in others’ lives. I just hope you remember that I am still the little boy and man you have loved for the last 27 years.  I am still all of the good things you have always known, I am just letting you into my life and being more honest with you – something I wish I had done years ago.

Part of me hopes this is something you’ve been guessing at or suspecting for awhile. Then again, maybe I’m a better actor than I thought and this has all come as a blind shock, I don’t know.  All I do know is that I have become a much happier person over the last few months as I have begun to accept who I am.

I want to be authentic and the only way for me to do that is by sharing all of myself with you. I know this is going to be difficult for you.  I know you, like all parents, have hopes and dreams for me and that many of those dreams may now be shattered. I’m sorry for challenging your expectations and dreams for me but I can’t apologize for who I am anymore.  I have given everything I have to change and invested everything I could into the church and its promise for change and yet here I am, still me, still unchanged.  I have given so much that my ‘well’ is now empty; I have no more to give. 

 

I am rebuilding myself from the ground up and I want you (all of the family) in my life. I hope that can happen.  Let me know when you want to and are ready to talk about this.  I know it is going to be difficult for all of us.

I love you,

Michael

Danger: Fast Food Kills

Hey all.
I've been a bit absent for a while now. Sorry for being so so unleRyable.

Here's the thing: I quit my job.

The shitty one at that damn fast blocked arteries and cancer chain also known as Arby's.
While working on the front register (because that snotty little sixteen year old didn't come in to work) someone asked what healthy options we had.
I told the woman we had no healthy options here.
She asked about the salads.
I gave her a run down on how the ingredients for our salads were likely shipped from another country where the foods were grown by using ridiculous amounts of pesticides and were genetically modified to look fresh and colorful while retaining no flavor nor nutrients. Of course the leafy greens and veggies (if you can still call them that) are then topped with some kind of animal products (which parts I couldn't say).
I informed her of a place called Omar's Rawtopia--perhaps the best place to get a healthy meal in Salt Lake City if that's what you're looking for. All the food is raw and organic. Oh, and my favorite: it's all "made with lots of love."
Of course she stood there staring at me, wondering who in the hell I was to tell her about healthy food.
I do, of course, work at a fast food dump hole. What would I know?

I couldn't do it anymore.
The grease.
The stench.
The fat. FAT. people coming in day after day.
My soul was dying in that grease pit.

Nobody who came in and asked for "healthy" options really wanted to know where to get something that would be good for their bodies. No one wanted to hear about how our meat industries produce SO MUCH FUCKING POLLUTION.

I couldn't contradict my beliefs anymore.
I couldn't keep playing the fat, American, white man's game anymore.

So, I quit.
I afford internet anymore.
And I had to find another job.

Still haven't. But, I decided I better stop letting this fall behind.
Here I am.
Typing away as I use my friend's computer and internet.
Broke.
Without a job.
Putting more stress on Addie--I hate this part the most.
And completely and utterly LOST.


RyBread Wisdom: Even if you have a cool name that you can shift words around and use to be clever, it will not help you find a job. Also, sometimes (although I can't see the silver lining yet) you have to take a leap before you get anywhere--you have to quit your job before you find a new one, for example. Eating fast food isn't the only thing that kills you. Working fast food does it too.

Tattoos

              Warning may trigger cutting!

There are different types of tattoos. Some silly from drunken nights. Others meaningful. Others in memory of someone else. Others to remind you. Lots of reasons. So today I want to tell you all of my tattoos.

The first one I got I was eighteen. It was the day before New Year’s Eve and I was out and about with a friend. Another friend was going to get her nose pierced and it was a tattoo parlor also. They were having a sale on tattoos, half off. It was totally impulsive. I went home and drew up a design for my grandmother who had passed two years earlier and got it that night around midnight. I was totally ripped off and I can’t say I enjoy how it turned out but we all learn from our mistakes. (Picture complete with ridiculously white back and lovely tan line. I got drivers arm on my way to Oregon.)

The next one I got was on Wednesday. I had been thinking I wanted a new one but I couldn't quite pin down exactly what I wanted. I figured I would go in and talk to a professional when the time was right. Well I was driving to the beach by myself and I passed a parlor, walked in, talked it through, decided and within the hour I was done. This one was twofold. First to remind me about my cousin’s Stephs suicide and second to remind me to be free. They go together because I need to remind myself I’m free to make my own decision so I don’t start thinking suicide is my only option again.

And then we have the more painful tattoos. The ones done at home. I used to cut myself. I still have the scars on my legs, even if they are fading. They were to focus my thoughts and remind me not to do something or other. Whenever I get stressed or overwhelmed I always want to cut to calm down. Lately I’ve been really good about it, but I know how hard it is.

So that’s what I got for today. We all have ways to remind us of our past, mine is tattoos, of all varieties. 

This tattoo was also inspired by a song.

Blackbird- Beatles (Across The Universe Cover)

Trying Something New

I like to try new things, to put myself in new situations, to taste new foods, to adventure in new places, to talk to new people.  I LOVE the world and the people in it.  There is so much beauty everywhere and I want a piece of all of it.

Anyway....I digress.

This week my new adventure is the Grand Canyon.

It's something I've only ever seen from the window of an airplane where it just looks like a giant crack, like someone dropped a giant bowling ball on a piece of giant tile.  But this time it'll be a bit more personal.  I like personal.  I'm going to get Grand Canyon dirt between my toes.  I'm going to smell Grand Canyon trees and touch Grand Canyon rocks.  As it happens, I'm there right now (ah, the beauty of scheduling a post), and I'm sure I'm loving it.  If you haven't caught on yet, I LOVE the outside spaces.  Mayhaps my next post will be about my adventure.

Anyone else out there like to adventure, whether physically or otherwise?  Any favorite New Things you want to share?? I'm always looking for ideas. :)

By Any Other Name

I do not like Romeo and Juliet. Sorry guys, I just don’t. Shakespeare making up words is basically the bomb, but Romeo and Juliet is not my favorite play of all time. Actually, I don’t think I have an all-time favorite play; there are some really good options to pull from. The old Greek ones are great, and then there’s new stuff like A Number and Los Vendidos and Samuel Beckett is pretty awesome. But anyway, I digress.

I do like that line from Romeo and Juliet, “A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.” So poetical and such, but I’m not sure I buy it. I mean yeah, a thing is what it is, but it also is what it is called, and how do you separate out the two completely? I don’t think you can. A supposition that I am rather displeased with, given my aversion to labels and boxes.

Which brings me to my main point, not that it’s original or overly creative or even frustrations that I haven’t voiced before, but it’s what I’m thinking: Why do we have to have all these stupid classifications for what we are? Like anything, gender, orientation, handedness, political views; I don’t know, all those limiting ways to call people. I don’t want to be a short, right-handed, nearsighted, introverted, Mormon, white kid; I want to be Bailey. If you care, get to know me as a person and then figure out what you think. But I don’t want to have to package myself up into different categories for easy filing.

Also, in response to the many requests (cough cough Dupree) for updates on the girl I brought up a couple of posts back: Things are going good but I don’t think it’s fair to say anything specific without her permission to do so, which I know is a lame cop-out non-answer, but it is what it is.

Beards - So Much More Than Facial Hair

One Tuesday evening, when I was 14 or 15 years old, my congregation's youth group was given the assignment to break into groups of five or six and act out stories from the Bible and Book of Mormon. This particular week's activity was a competition where we had to interpret the old, traditional scripture stories with a modern-day theme while our church leaders video recorded us.

After we were done recording the short films, the leaders took us to another room where our parents all sat, waiting to judge our presentations. The rest of the night was designed to be a mini "Academy Awards" gala and we were all looking forward to seeing our movies and equally anticipated the chance of winning some ridiculous prize.

Well, as we all watched the movies, there were jokes made here and there about how nervous "so-and-so" was and about how rigid "such-and-such" was.  I wasn't too concerned, however, about being nervous or rigid on camera and I was super excited to see myself on the TV.  I knew I was going to be an amazing "Prodigal Son" and I couldn't wait for my parents to see their budding movie star in action.

Finally our video came on the screen and I watched in horror as I truly saw myself in action for the first time ever.  Good hell, my arms were flapping, I was stomping around, and my vocal intonations could have given Jack (from Will and Grace) a run for his money. I was a freaking tie-dyed Care Bear with hip dysplasia.

I was mortified and the look of shame on my family's faces was one of the most heart-wrenching things I remember from my youth.  As the video ended, the mocking and mean-spirited comments from the young men and women who were supposed to be my spiritual brothers and sisters began. The snarky comments of my peers and the look of severe disappointment from my parents was enough for me to flee the room in search of punch and snickerdoodles.

A couple of days later my mother decided to take me shopping with her.  As we strolled, alone, through the aisles of Fred Meyer, she would quietly stop and start looking at one end-cap or another before she eventually said, very casually but with a tone and look I will NEVER forget:

"You know, people at church are talking.  And, you know what they're saying. And you know we can't have people saying things like that. Because you're not. So, what are you going to change? What are you going to do differently so people stop saying things like that?"

And so the conversation went; I was drilled on how to act more masculine, or rather more straight, until my mother was satisfied by my responses and convinced of my resolve.

At that moment I knew I needed to change and do something drastic and convincing.  I began folding my arms tightly across my chest to try and minimize the flailing of arms and the use of hand gestures.  I measured the meter and intonation of my voice and did exercises when I was alone to minimize my vocal inflections. And, finally, I decided I needed to start dating ASAP.

Prior to this point I had already familiarized myself with multiple JC Penny catalogs and the several-page spread of men's underwear in each of them, as well as the men's section of a rather old but incredibly detailed sex education book titled, "Human Sexuality." As a result I readily come to the conclusion that I knew what my type of 'man' was but I really didn't know what type of 'girl' I would be interested in dating. All while bearing in mind that I believed my fascination with men and the male form was all a phase and that I just simply hadn't cultivated my heterosexual interest in women, yet.

Sure I had lot's of friends who were girls growing up. In fact, most of my close friends were female and I loved it that way, trust me. But even though I could tell which ones were cute and which ones I enjoyed spending time with, I couldn't really tell you which one(s) I was interested in dating.

Eventually I narrowed it down to one girl in particular and, shortly after I turned 16, I started dating my first "Beard." Essentially we dated for the next four years and I can say that I honestly loved her.  We had a very physical aspect to our relationship and I believe we were best friends. And, for the most part, it worked.

But there was a problem; both her and her mother were convinced we were soul mates and we were going to be together for eternity.  I, on the other hand, did not believe we were soul mates and I hid behind the excuse that I needed to go on a mission so I wouldn't have to get married.  Plus it was convenient that my parents couldn't stand the girl or her family so I had a free 'out' on that front, too.

Eventually things between us did end and I began dating a long line of other Beards.  Each one was different and unique and I tried my best to find a woman that would and COULD work with my "problem." Each one was beautiful and wonderful in her own way and I am a better person because of my association with them even though things did not work out between us.

As I write this post, there are a few of these women that I want to acknowledge and thank and, honestly, ask for forgiveness.

For their privacy and mine I will just use initials.

MS - You are such an amazing woman and I hope you always remember that.  You are charming, sweet, dedicated, and one of the most talented people I have ever met. You truly impacted me in ways you will never know.  We have connected off and on again over the years and I am sorry for all of the times you felt I was leading you on.  You were right, I was and I am so sorry.  Deep down, I believe, you were the only girl I could have married but, even deeper down, I think we both knew that was never going to happen.  I love and miss you and if you ever read this I want to thank you for everything.  You are a wonderful mom and an even more wonderful person.  Good luck and all my love, MJ

WS - Thanks for giving me the confidence to sing again.  You were so wonderful in so many ways.  I wanted things to work out between us so much.  You are such a smart, talented woman and I know you are going to go far in this life.  I hope you and your family are so happy and I know you will be a wonderful mother. Thank you for everything. Love, MJ

SW - Oh, S, this is probably hard on you. Maybe it's not, I don't know.  I know that the last time this happened to you it didn't go too hot for you.  But things are different now.  You're married and have a beautiful baby.  I truly hope you are happy and that you've found peace.  I hope that now you know now why things didn't work out between us that I really wanted them to. In fact, I prayed every day and fasted every week to make it work;  you are wonderful in so many ways and I hope that the man you found is truly worthy of you and all you have to offer this world and a marriage.  Your overwhelming talent, personality, and kindness are all so amazing, thank you for sharing them with me. I wish you the best and all the happiness in the world. Love, MJ

KM - I know we are getting older and I know we both wanted this to work.  On paper, it seemed pretty perfect.  In fact, in many ways it still does.  Your sweet, kind soul is so attractive and your talent and eagerness to share all you have with others is inspiring. Thank you for being so kind and for loving me for who I am. It has meant more to me than almost anything else.  You are going to be a phenomenal mother and wife and I know you will find a man who loves you and cherishes you and can be the husband you deserve. Thank you for everything. Love. MJ

There were many other Beards but the wonderful women above impacted my life and changed me - all of me - for the better. I am so grateful for them and for the ways they have influenced me.

Anyway, it looks like the arm-folding, vocal exercises, and fervent heterosexual dating didn't change me, ma' - I'm sorry to disappoint.  It looks like the Ward is going to have something to talk about - again. Who knows, maybe I'll even make another movie...

Lost

I’ve started so many posts for today but I couldn’t finish any of them. I can barely finish any of my thoughts lately. My reality is becoming blurred with my dreams and I fear I’m slowly losing my mind.

I’m lost.

I might find my bearings when I go home to Oregon tomorrow for the week. I haven’t been there for more than a day in a year and a half. But what if I don’t? What if I never figure out what I’m doing? I feel so stagnated. And I figure this will change once work starts up and I have a definite purpose but what about in September when work is over and school begins and I don’t know where to go?

And even beyond the realm of what I am doing next year. What about the ex-best friend who was so disgusted by my attraction to girls we are no longer friends? How do I let that go and move on? Or the girl who I can't broach the subject of me liking her or figuring out if she likes me? How do you do that?

So while generally it’s the other way around, I need advice today. What should I do?

Cough Syrup- Glee

Life is too short to even care at all, oh

I'm losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control

If I could find a way to see this straight 

I'd run away 

To some fortune that I,

I should have found by now

Love Changes Things

I want to make a difference.
I want to stand for something;
to change the world.
I want to put an end to hatred
and replace it with love,
for love can bridge the deepest of chasms,
can stop wars,
end violence and suffering.
We look at things differently when we love them.
The earth.
Our communities.
Ourselves.
Each other.
Love is a unifier.
It brings out our similarities
and celebrates our differences.
It makes the distance between you and me
Not so very far
after all.

Sometimes I get frustrated
Feeling like I'll never have anything of value to offer this world.
I'll never have a voice loud enough for anyone to hear.
Multinational corporations suck the life out of our economies and cultures.
Businesses and "doctors" feed us lies about our very basics needs
and what is "good" and "bad" and "necessary"
just for a little cash in their pockets.
People all around are abused and neglected and treated wrongly.
And what can I do?
I am just one.
Just me.
But I silently make a stand
by not shopping at certain places
by supporting local vendors
by buying organic
by using renewal energy and shopping at thrift stores.
I try to put an end to hatred
by spreading love
by talking to strangers
by getting to know people
by listening to their stories.
Everyone has a story worth listening to.

But does it even make a difference??
Maybe.
Maybe not.
I'm just one voice.

But I am a voice.
I am passionate
and loving
and crazy enough to believe
that I make a difference
just by being me.
Just by doing the things I do
And loving like I love.
Even if my words never get farther than this page
I have already made a difference
simply by putting a little bit more love out into the world.

Love changes things
And I've got an awful lot to give.
Better watch out.

love all around...

* Play this song in a separate tab while reading this post :) It is amazing and I listened to it while I wrote this entire post. It’s, “The Letter that Never Came” from the Series of Unfortunate Events Film Score. Enjoy (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZNTWDUrWiI) *

Dear readers, family, and cherished friends. I am writing to say how amazing things have gotten as of recently. It is surprising just how much people really do love and care for you even when you might not realize it.

Recently BYU has released an It Gets Better Video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ym0jXg-hKCI) and you may or may not know that I am actually a part of that video! It has slowly started to get spread all around the internet and it is amazing how many people have seen it and reached out to me. (It is more fascinating because I myself didn’t share the video via facebook so people are actually seeing this outside of my influence! So amazing)

I just wanted to share some of the incredible messages I have received on here to show you that the world does get better. I took a leap, made a choice and my life has been filled with love and joy as of late and your life can be too.

Amanda, “Hey. I stumbled upon a BYU “It Gets Better” video that you were in. I also watched your own video afterwards. I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you for having the strength to accept who you are. I also want to let you know that I love and support you. I used to struggle through feelings of bisexuality. It was really hard on me, especially because I was Mormon. I thought what I was feeling was wrong, but I am happy to know that there are others who go through this. We are not alone. Thank you for your bravery.”

Michelle, “I just recently watched the ground breaking video that was produced by BYU. Im sure you will get a lot of people asking you about it. However I didn’t need to ask because I already just kind of knew. I just want you to know I love you just the way you are and hope you feel like you belong in the ward. Its not an easy thing to deal with. We all have our own things we must deal with. I know we are not like BFF or anything but I want you to know i’m grateful for our frinedship and that you are a totally amazing person.”

Holly, “I saw that it gets better video you are in. That was SO brave of you. I am so proud to have you as a friend.”

Erin, “ Just want you to know I’m SO PROUD of all of you at BYU who took a stand and posted those videos on You Tube for “It Gets Better”. Please know that I love you because you are you and you have my whole-hearted support :) You’re a rock star!”

The following were messages from friends and family sent to my mom which ROCKS!

Rachel, “My aunt up in San Fran posted a link to an it gets better video and I was surprised to see &#$^!( in it! Congrats on raising an awesome son. The video was so touching and moved me to tears. It takes guts to stand up and be proud.”

Wendy, “You know we’re going to be friends forever and you will never rid yourself of me right ;) Well, I’m just going to be bold and say that I LOVE your son @^(*#^. I always have and I always will. Through a link off someone’s facebook, I saw the It Gets Better clip and there was your son! I wasn’t shocked, but relieved for him and wish him ALL the goodness in the world. Now for you, as my friend, and as hi mom, I can only imagine this has been quite an experience.”

I hope you are loved and know that I love you even though I may not know you and may never meet you; still know that you are loved.

Six Boxen of Donuts. Minus the Donuts. And They’re Much Bigger Boxes. Er, Boxen.

It’s the end of the semester. I’m almost done with finals and the plan is to peace out on Wednesday, so yesterday was spent packing. And boxaging. Currently the entire contents of everything that usually contains things in my room are sitting in stacks of boxes waiting to be loaded up. It’s too bad I don’t have enough stuff to make an epic fort out of.

The end here means a new beginning back at home. A new adventure, if you will. Or something like that. So that’s where my mind is currently at. Nothing too profound, since I’ve been trying to use my profoundness on my tests and apparently I only have so much to give and it’s getting all spent up. Plus I’m a master of the cop-out. Just ask anyone.

And now, for your enjoyment, the song, which I have not heard in a lot of years, that randomly decided to grace me with its presence on this fine day:

Even if it Kills Me, courtesy of Motion City Soundtrack

I’ve got a lotta things to do tonight
I’m so sick of making lists
Of things I’ll never finish
I’ve lived here for the last 12 years
Since early 1995 all my shit has been in boxes
But if I had a little more time to kill
I’d settle every little stupid thing
Yeah you’d think that I would

But I’m too tired to go to sleep tonight
And I’m too weak to follow dreams tonight
For the first time in a long time I can say
That I want to try to get better and
Overcome each moment
In my own way

I wonder if I’ll ever lose my mind
I tried hard for awhile
But then I kinda gave up
Winter is a killer when the sun goes down
"I’m really not as stubborn as I seem,"
Said the knuckle to the concrete

But I’m too tired to go to sleep tonight
And I’m too weak to follow dreams tonight
For the first time in a long time I can say
That I want to try to get better and
Overcome each moment
In my own way

I’m not saying that I’m giving up
I’m just trying not to think as much as I used to
Cause "never" is a lonely little messed up word
Maybe I’ll get it right some day
For the first time in a long time I can say
That I want to try
I feel helpless for the most part
But I’m learning to open my eyes
And the sad truth of the matter is
I’ll never get over it
But I’m gonna try
To get better and overcome each moment
In my own way

I so want to get back on track
And I’ll do whatever it takes
Even if it kills me

SEX!!! - That's What Being Gay is ALL About, Right?

For years, I struggled with the idea of coming to terms with my sexuality because I had always heard how rife the gay world was with lascivious sexual activity.  After all, if you were a gay man, you were guaranteed to get AIDS and, of course, that was godly punishment for your sins and the sins of the gay community at large.  

Being a child of the ‘80s, it’s easy to see why, looking back, coming out is so terrifying for men my age and older. Honestly, religion aside, I can remember riots, protests, and parades flashing across our old tube televisions in the name of gay rights.  These memories are as clear to me as were the bomb drills in elementary school at the tail end of the Cold War. Some of my earliest childhood memories are filled with fear and the literal idea that I was going to be destroyed by nerve gas or the ‘homosexual disease.’

I remember elementary teachers making comments like, “If the Russians don’t destroy this country, the fags will.”  To this day, two decades later, I abhor the term ‘fag’ for this reason. 

Similarly, I remember my dad berating the Red Cross for asking on their questionnaire whether or not he, as a male, had “had sexual contact, even once, with another man” before he could donate blood - every time! As a result, he would go on for what seemed like hours, sharing his plans to ship all the fags to a desert island and leave them to die.

You see, it was a win-win scenario: all the men could screw like bunnies and kill each other off (because they were all going to die of AIDS anyways) while the rest of the world could live in peace, absent the fear of contracting the world’s most dangerous and destructive disease. To top it all off, the world would be free of the gay agenda and all of its associated propaganda.

As I grew older, and became increasingly more aware of my own sexual identity, I began to look towards my future with a renewed sense of fear and trepidation.  Any time I saw anything to do with ‘the gay lifestyle’ it was plastered with sex.  The AIDS Epidemic was all but over and the homosexual revolution was well into its return. It seemed like news stories from across the country and globe sounded the gay siren call back to sexual liberation. “Look at us, we figured out how to stymie the transmission of HIV, we can reopen the saunas and bath houses. Free condoms for everyone, hooray!”

Today, decades later, the general population still views homosexuals as deviant fiends who never get enough sex.  Everyone seems to think if we gays aren’t out dancing in our underwear at the local discotheque, we are in the bathroom blowing each other through glory holes.

Well, I’m here to tell you that we are not all muscle gods who sleep with anything and everything that walks.  We have not all contracted HIV, nor are we all dying of AIDS. We aren’t pedophiles and we don’t secretly want to take advantage of our grandparents’ farm animals.

We are regular, everyday people with the same-strength sex drives as our heterosexual counterparts. The difference between gay and straight people, when it comes down to sex, is merely this: preference.  I prefer a man with a little scruff just as my straight best friend prefers brunettes with large breasts.

To those who accuse us of making it “all about sex,” I challenge you to look at mainstream media and quantify the amount of heterosexual activity on screen, in magazines, and on TV. I promise you will see a vast majority of straight sexualization in the media versus that of the attention and focus on homosexual activity.

Sure, there is a sexual adolescence that many gay men and women go through when they come out. It’s almost like we’re making up for lost time.  The reality of it is that our experiences are no different in principle than horny teenagers who get to act out their sexual impulses without fear of condemnation from family, friends, and society - we just have to wait a few extra years.

Sex is a part of the human condition and I celebrate it in all of its forms.  Whether you’re lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or straight, I celebrate your individuality and I encourage the responsible expression of your sexual identity.  Love yourself, love others,and express your love and passion with someone who loves and respects you, too.

It’s Not BYU, It’s Me

“I breaking up with you, BYU. We’ve had this tremulous relationship of a lot of back and forth and now I’m just fed up and done. I’m sorry BYU, it’s not you. You’re great. So many people love you. But I thought that if I came here I would change and “be good”. I don’t want to be good. I want to be me. I want to be free. And you just can’t provide that freedom. So buh-bye.”

…. Or so I wish I was saying. I don’t know if I’m going to leave BYU yet. I want to. But I also want to get a degree and not feel like a total failure for dropping out. And what is funny is even if I do leave BYU I would transfer to another school so I mean I wouldn’t be completely giving up… right?

So I made the decision that I would make the decision at a later date. I have a job lined up in Provo till August and then I will decide whether I want to stay or go.

But I wanted to make a list of the things I appreciate at BYU and things that I think I would have if I let. You know a pros and cons? Plus I just like making lists :P

BYU:

A prestigious degree

I wouldn’t feel like a failure for giving up

Not a bad degree/career choice

MY JOB!!!

Some people ;)

It’s cheap

… And I’m sure there is more

Other Places:

FREEDOM!!!!

Coffee

Freedom

My family

Being able to like a girl without freaking out about the Honor Code

Freedom

More hands-on degrees

FREEDOM

Getting to go home where I was raised

Freedom

OREGON

PORTLAND

Voodoo donuts

Pioneer Square

The Max

… Did I mention freedom?

I just want a break, a chance to go home for more than a few days. And to not worry every freaking second if I am doing something wrong. I just want freedom. I want to be able to tell the girl I like, that I like her, without wondering if that will get me in heaps of trouble. So BYU, you’re awesome, but you’re just not for me.

Pretending- Glee

will we ever say the words we’re feeling
reach down underneath and tear down all the walls
will we ever have a happy ending
or will we forever only be pretending

how long do i fantasize

make believe that it’s still alive
imagine that i am good enough
and we can choose the ones we love

keeping secrets safe

every move we make
seems like no one’s letting go
and it’s such a shame
cause if you feel the same
How am I supposed to know?

Slow Learner

I love my body.  It has taken me years and years to be able to say that, so I'm going to say it again.  I LOVE MY BODY!!!  We have been through a hell of a lot together, and it's been the best friend I could ever have asked for.  There have been times when I've abused and neglected it.  It has been underfed, overworked, strained, cut, bruised, forced to stay awake when it most needed sleep, and fed donuts when it would have preferred a salad.

And yet, through it all, my body remains loyal to me.  It heals itself when I injure it.  It recovers when I push it too hard.  It cleanses itself when I feed it shit.  Don't get me wrong, I believe our bodies definitely have limitations and that if we push it's limits, it won't recover. (If you smoke, you'll likely get lung cancer.  If you eat too much sugar, there's a risk of diabetes.  If you do extreme sports without the proper safety gear, you could fall off a cliff and break your back resulting in a life of vegetable-hood, etc...)  But our bodies are amazing.  They know what's up.  And if we can learn how to listen to them, we have access to one of the most powerful tools ever.  It's a matter of getting your body and your mind on the same page, allowing them to listen to each other and work together.  (There's a good article about this here).

A while back I did a certain type of therapy that was body-centered.  I was taught how to listen to what my body was saying.  We used this skill primarily to work through past issues and to prevent future ones and I was amazed at the power I was able to harvest simply by listening my body, by becoming aware of what I was feeling.

I wish I could say that I was perfect at this.  I'm not.  At all.  I still mistreat and abuse my body, not paying attention when it's giving me signs that are blazingly obvious.  Take this week for example.  I have been going non stop, both physically and mentally, for a couple of weeks now.  My mind has been busy.  My body has been busy.  I haven't taken the time to listen to my body, to check in and make sure it had what it needed.  My body was politely saying, "Um...hey, Jo!  I need a little attention.  I'm tired.  Could  you maybe slow down a little?  Ya know...take a break for just an hour or two?  I would love a nap before work.  And hey, if you could feed me more raw greens you wouldn't have to have a cup of coffee at work to make it through your shift.  I have enough energy for everything you want to do...if only I could have a nap.  Or a day off.  What do you say?"

But I wasn't listening.  I was too busy in every possible way.  My body tried everyday to get my attention.  I can see that now.  And when I didn't listen and give it the rest and the nutrition that it needed, it stopped working for me.  I hit a wall, throwing out my back and coming down with a nasty cold, sore throat and ear aches included.  My body simply couldn't do it anymore, and it let me know.  As a result I was forced to slow down, to give my body the rest and nutrition it was screaming for.  That's not to say that if we listen to our bodies we will never get sick.  Viruses happen.  But if we are taking care of our bodies and really listening to them, they will be much better equipped when they need to heal themselves.  I learned that (again) the hard way this week.  

Our relationships with our bodies can be very much a "I scratch your back, you scratch mine" sort of deal.  But really, it ends up being a "I scratch my back, you scratch mine" thing.  Give your body what it's asking for, it will give you the energy and stamina you want.  Maybe someday I'll be better at listening.

Situation: Predicamented

Who wants to play Dear Abby? That’s the one you write to for advice, yeah? I have a little niece named Abby; quite the cute little kid. It’s possible that I might be just a tad biased though. But I digress: she’s not the Abby we’re talking about. Actually, we’re not talking about an Abby at all.

You’ll be happy to know that I made a friend. Or, more precisely, she made me. She’s gay. Not that that matters, except that it does. We’ve been hanging out a little bit, and it’s beginning to penetrate my thick skull that there is a very good chance that she kind of likes me…

Don’t get me wrong; a body could get used to being wanted, let me just tell you. But the thing is I think I might like her too. Which sort of presents a problem, right? Because she’s gay and I feel like it’s unfair to not be completely honest with her about how I’m the T in this situation, not gay like she thinks. I don’t really know how to broach that subject though, you know?

So that’s what’s been on my mind of late. Still not sure what I should do.

Yup, Still Gay

I'm traveling abroad with my best friend. He's straight and aware of my sexual identity. He's also very much aware of our mutual love and appreciation for women's breasts. Even though I'm gay, I still think boobs are magnificent and a lot of fun.

So, yesterday, he suggested we attend a strip club. As his best friend, I dutifully agreed. Next thing you know, however, we've been accosted by multiple dancers and each taken back to a dark room, covered in tacky, red crushed velvet and I'm paying for a lap dance from a topless, well-endowed girl in a g-string.

Moral of the story: Regardless of how hard the sweet stripper tried to illicit a "reaction" from me, I spent thirty dollars to let my body remind myself I'm still gay.

Easter and Marriage

Easter this year included not only egg hunts and bunnies, but also the beginning of a brand new relationship.
One of my friends married the love of her life. Legally. That one word might not be a big deal to most people, but it is to some.

I got to see my lovely friend Lisa marry her sweetheart Sarah in Vermont (which is gorgeous btw). Marriage in Vermont is defined as between two adult persons. Don't you just love Vermont? :)

Too bad though that if Sarah and Lisa leave Vermont to live somewhere else, it's likely that their marriage won't be recognized at all anyway. But, they'll be staying, which might continue to give me excuses to visit the other side of the country. I wish I had some pictures to show everyone--gorgeous. Both wore white dresses and looked absolutely stunning.

I've been thinking a lot about marriage this weekend what with the wedding and all. Sometimes I think it'd be great to have a fancy wedding complete with punch bowls, live band, and a dance floor. It'd be great to share with everyone what Addie and I have. To laugh and dance and be with family and friends all for the purpose of celebrating our love for each other. A moment where all our loved ones can join together in seeing the amazing adventures to come in our lives. An excuse to dress up fancy and maybe even have my hair done (okay, maybe that's a little too extravagant...although I know my sister would LOVE to do my hair). We'd make vows to love each other forever even though we both already feel the love and promises won't mean anything. And we'd exchange rings together with Addie's little brother as the ring bearer and her little sister as the flowergirl.

But, even though my friends (like Lisa and Sarah) can have fancy weddings and happy celebrations, sometimes things just seem complicated. At least when it comes to making such celebrations bigger than just the two of us. What if people don't really want to celebrate with us? Maybe I worded that wrong. I know there are people who would love to celebrate. And if we ever do a big crazy-ass party you're all invited! But there's her family, for one. Marriage isn't legal, although that's not really an excuse, is it?

Even when I think about how there's not much stopping us, there's still something. Maybe it's that I don't want a traditional party like regular old heteros? Maybe I don't want the tradition, even though part of me does? Maybe I'm unsure about who we'd invite or who would come or who disappoint me the most by not coming... What do you think? Do you want a wedding--complete with white dresses (or tuxes), champagne, cake--the whole shebang? Do you want the marriage part, the legal papers? Or do you just want the family and the friends? And if you had a party, would they come? Would you be disappointed over someone NOT showing up?


RyBread Wisdom: Wedding celebrations (or celebrations of any kind, really) must always include dancing.

I Have A Family Here On Earth...

Guest Post by Tiffany

My younger sister and I are polar opposites. I’m an introvert. She’s an extrovert. I tend to wear earth tones, while she wears the most colorful outfits she can find. I prefer being inconspicuous. She literally sprays herself with glitter before leaving the house.


I spent most of my life focusing on our differences. I would look at her in her bright yellow leggings and purple shoes and wonder how we were even born into the same family. And I know I bored her to tears, so she probably had similar thoughts. We just didn’t get each other at all.


Right after my son was born, she moved out of state for the summer. When she came back 3 months later, I thought my baby would be scared of her loudness. I was dead wrong. He saw her, giggled, and reached out to her. They were soul mates. As he’s grown I’ve realized that he inherited a healthy dose of his aunt’s personality.


My son and my sister adored each other, so how could I not love someone who loved my child so much? We started spending a lot of time together. It’s been nine years, and now my sister is my best friend. Somehow we were both able to let go of our old differences and allow a new relationship to form.


Now, she’s the person I go to when I need to talk, or vent, or laugh. I can be completely myself without any judgment. I laugh harder with her than with anyone else. If I’m having a really crappy day, she lets me be obnoxiously cranky and loves me anyway. I don’t know what I’d do without her friendship.


During the times that we were focused on our differences, we inflicted a lot of pain on each other. I think we sort of wanted to be friends, but we both felt so misunderstood that we didn’t know how to bridge the gap between us. We both had to get to a place where we were capable of compromise. I learned to accept all of her color and vibrancy, and even love that about her. She accepted that I’ll never be quite as adventurous as she is (among many other things we had to work through).


As I read and listen to stories from my LGBT friends, I see so much hurt caused by families. This breaks my heart. Ideally, families should be the ones who love us no matter what. But realistically, even without the issue of homosexuality, families seldom behave in an ideal way. There are layers of complication in my own family, and also in my husband’s family.


I don’t mean to trivialize the hurt or distance that some people are experiencing in their relationships. And I realize that some relationships may always be difficult. Ten years ago, if someone had told me that my sister would become my best friend, I would have laughed. But, you never know what can happen with a little (or a lot) of time. Relationships have a way of evolving.

I Am Free!

Go to school. Get straight A’s. Date. Get Married. Have babies. Be a stay at home mom.

Repeat after me: I am Free.

Quit school. Take up cooking. Learn how to fix cars and build stuff. Listen to good music. Drink coffee. Stay out past midnight. Dance. Wear tank tops. Say “shit” when things go wrong. Kiss a girl. Travel the world. Be a surf bum. Fall in love… a lot. Possibly get married. Maybe have kids. Love yourself. Accept yourself. Think for yourself. Live for yourself…

I am FREE!

I Gotta Move

I am feeling incredibly restless lately.  More than usual.  I find I often feel this way in the spring, when everything is emerging, changing, growing.  But it's bad this time.  It's like I'm crawling out of my skin, ready to burst.  There is a change on the horizon, I can feel it.  But the timing is not quite right.  I can feel that too.

Anybody else?  Is it just me??

I Gotta Move!!!

Matchbox Twenty says: I wanna take you for granted

I wear glasses. That’s how you can tell I’m smart by the way, by the fact that I wear glasses. If you haven’t met me in person then you probably aren’t aware of how smart I am, not having had the change to see me in all my glasses-induced brilliance.

I wear glasses because my eyesight’s not all that good (and also so I will look smart). There were some years, though, after my eyes got bad but before I got glasses to make up for it, and I didn’t even know what I was missing. Then, glasses, and holy crap those trees’ve got leaves in detail and crud, are those individual fibers on that carpet down there? All of a sudden I could go walk around and see people with actual faces and eyes that weren’t just vague dark smudges (or buttons, but that doesn’t come up that often either way). Now I wear my glasses, and things are so much more crisp and defined, and it’s amazing what I can make out. At this point, you might think I’m marching toward a lesson on perspective or understanding or something. If that is the case, then clearly you missed the title of this post, which plainly states what my actual intention is. So I’ll just direct you to draw some lines and read between them.

Anyway, I take my glasses off, and these are still my same old eyes that blur shapes and fuzz (yep, I just verbed that noun) lines. So I never forget what it used to be like and how much better my glasses let me see. Bottom line, I don’t take my vision for granted, although I have no doubt I would without a second thought if it were up to snuff all on its own; it’s only because it falls short that I can really appreciate it as much as I should. Does that make sense?

I like that I need glasses, because this way I have a constant reminder of how amazing it is to be able to see.

So that’s my long drawn-out metaphor, which probably hasn’t turned out quite as clear as I wanted it to be. Or maybe the problem is just that you need glasses. Anyway, I’ma try and apply it now.

Something you take for granted: A body that fits with your mind.

Something I don’t have: A body that fits with my mind (but shh, don’t tell anyone; it’s a secret).

Hence: That is not something I take for granted. But it’s okay; I’m just me.

I think that’s going to be all for now, folks. My thoughts are getting tangled trying to beat each other out of my head, so I fear my point is somewhat muddled, but I’m not sure how to expound in such a way as to clarify. So we’ll just pretend that you’re supposed to take some personal application out of this and leave it at that.

Catharsis: The Purging of Emotions or Relieving Emotional Tensions

So Many Blog Posts, So Few Mondays

Since I started writing for this blog I have gone through a whirlwind metamorphosis. In a few short weeks I have started feeling more ‘at home’ in my own skin than I have since I was a young child.

I’ve come to terms with who I am sexually, I’ve come to accept where I want my life to go, and I’ve finally begun to be ‘okay’ with being gay. It’s still a process, and I know I have much further to go, but I finally feel ready for the journey. And, honestly, I'm truly glad I have you to take along with me.

This blog has given me the opportunity to reconnect with an old friend (I love you Jo, SO much!), make some phenomenal new friends (Tiff, Ry, Dupree, Tiffany, Chris, Julie, and L. Fauset – I love all of you guys, too [and I’m sure I’ve missed a few, sorry]), and it’s allowed me to open up about some things that have burdened my soul for most of my life. I love this blog. I love its readers. And most importantly, at least perhaps for me, I love writing for it.

Writing is cathartic for me and, frankly, I think we all need a little more catharsis in our lives. We need to get our emotions and thoughts out of us to make room for whatever else life has to throw at us. So this post is a free response for me to say a few things I need to get out of my mind or off of my chest.

By the end, I hope you use the comments section to share the things you need to get out there and into the blogosphere, too.

Are you there, Gaydar? It’s me, MJ.

The first thing I want to talk about is gaydar. If you’re gay, you think you have it. If you’re not gay, you think every gay man (or woman) has it. Truth is, I think everyone’s gay. At least a little bit. Ha! Does that count?

Anyway, as I have reconnected with friends from high school, the conversation inevitably leads to who’s recently come out as being gay (every day is Relief Society gossip day in gaydom). Some of the people I hear about surprise me but most of them do not. I guess hindsight is always 20/20. Still, it’s amazing what you can find out late at night, huddled around your old yearbooks with a Web browser open to Facebook.

Similarly, for those who know me, and have known me for along time, haven’t been particularly surprised when they found out I was gay (dammit, there goes my chances for an Oscar or Emmy). And here I thought I had everyone confuddled. Meh.

So, to respond, I think we homos all have a little gaydar in us (and maybe even a few of our adopted heteros, too). Honestly, we have all spent so much time in the closet, trying to masquerade as a shell of who we truly are, all while trying desperately to never give our deep, dark secret away, that we can see the similarities in others who MAY be going through what we once went through. There’s no surefire way of knowing but it isn’t hard to suspect…

Homophobes are USUALLY Homos

At least that’s what I think. I kind of used to be one. A little bit. I was afraid of being too open to the idea that homosexuality was ‘real’ because then I would have to address my own sexuality. Telling myself that my gay masturbatory fantasies were ‘normal’ for young straight men (it’s only a ‘phase,’ everyone does it…) was much easier than realizing I liked a ‘p’ in place of a ‘v.’ It was far too easy to condemn others and stay perched up on my own ‘high horse’ than honestly accept who I am.

Really, my cathartic thought on this subject is that there are certain individuals who are in positions of authority in the Mormon church, (i.e. President Boyd Kenneth Packer) as well as perhaps other faiths (WestboroBaptist Church – http://www.godhatesfags.com/) who are so consumed by their own self-loathing that they turn their bitterness on others.

I can’t seem to think of any other reason.

On God, Religion, and Love

I’m sorry, Jo, I’m stealing your title for this subsection; you impressed me so much with your recent post on this blog I had to add a few other thoughts.

So… I'm on ‘friendship timeout’ with God. And, if we are going to start pointing fingers, it’s religion’s fault (see anything said or written by Boyd K. or spend more than three seconds at http://www.godhatesfags.com/), or talk to a gay friend living in the southern half of the Bible Belt.

Scripture teaches that God is love, that Christ was sent out of love, and that the greatest commandment is to love God, thy neighbor, and thy self (see John 15).

If God is love, and tells us to love everyone (including ourselves), why the Hell are leaders of churches across the globe preaching so much hate from the pulpit? It baffles my mind. Honestly, their prejudice and bile have become a sounding call for my religious renouncement.

I much prefer to do my best to love all of everything on this planet and surround myself with others who love me. Seems to behoove my personal well being much more than hearing how ‘second class’ I am because of my genetic predisposition.

While on this subject, I have a dear friend who lives in the deep south at the bottom of the Bible Belt who is also gay. He's in a similarly difficult situation being gay and Christian (no, his congregation doesn't describe themselves as being Baptist, or Pentecostal, or any other specific denomination - just 'Christian') in Alabama to how I feel being gay and Mormon in Utah.

His faith preaches similar messages about homosexuality as ours does. He explained to me this week that all things are for the glory of God. In all that is good and righteous, God is elevated and glorified. In all that is bad and sinful (including being gay) God is equally elevated and glorified through his destruction and condemnation and casting out of the 'bad.'

Hmmmm. Define bad, please. Because I tell you what, there are a lot of terrible, horrible straight people who do nothing but shroud their hate and ignorance in religious vespers to condemn their fellow man. The very 'neighbors' they are commanded to love. Grrr.

Sex and Stereotypes

The homosexual world is filled with stereotypes propagated by members of both the straight and the gay communities. Let me first say that physical relationships are great, I love them. But, then again, who doesn't like expressing love and sexual passion?

I need to address several thoughts on this issue, though. First let me say that we don't all look like muscle gods. We don't try to screw everything that walks, and we aren't all trolling bathrooms and back allies for sex. Some are, but most of us are not.

Also, the vast majority of us aren't pedophiles just like the vast majority of heterosexuals aren't pedophiles. Pedophilia is a sickness and there is no correlation to homosexuality. NONE. I swear if I hear one more person associate the two of them together I am going to flip. Or bestiality. For the love of god, being attracted to men (or women for lesbians) does NOT equate to being attracted to any other animal. We like humans of our same sex. Not dogs, horses, donkeys, or any other species that is not Homo Sapien.

I have more to say but that's probably sufficient for this particular post.

Born Gay, Proud by Choice

So here’s the thing. There are many people I know (all of whom don’t know I’m gay) who say things like:

“I’m all for equal rights, but why do they have to shove it down my throat?”

or

“I don’t understand why they are making such a big deal out of out of a piece of paper?”

or

“Marriage isn’t all that great, if they really knew what they were getting into, they wouldn’t be so interested in trying to have it.”

or

“We just need to ‘love the sinner’ but ‘hate the sin.’”

or

“As soon as it stops being so popular to be gay, there are going to be a lot of men who have a hard time going back to women who will accept them. They’re just not going to want all these men who’ve been sodomized.”

or

"God hates homos."

or...

The list goes on, and on, and on.

I’ve often heard the expression, “you can only beat a dog so long before he starts biting back.” Have you? I don’t think I made it up, but it makes sense, right?

Well, turns out, I’m the dog. I am sick to shit of being told that I’m inferior, that people I adore are detested by God, and that my sexuality predicates my value to society. I’m done. Society, and culture, and religion, and family bigots have all told me for far too long that I am a failure for how I was born and I can’t take the beating anymore. I am going to start biting back.

There's a reason our voices ring out in support of each other. There's a reason we don't go quietly into the night. There's a reason we want to be seen as equal. Why? Because we are all human beings and we all deserve to be treated with the same degree of humanity that everyone else wants and expects. Dammit.

Wrap Up

When I started this blog post, I said that I am finally finding peace with who I am. I truly believe I'm well on my way to being “proud by choice” and I am quickly “breaking [my] silence.” Here's hoping my journey continues true and just.

Thank you for reading and thank you for commenting. I love all of you and I hope you each love yourselves! We are all in this together!

MJ

Mostly love this cover for its beauty and its message. Enjoy!

*I don't claim any rights to any images or videos published on this blog. If you own the rights and would like them taken down, please let me know.