Thursday, August 30, 2012

Scared Shirtless.

I hate BYU. I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t have a panic attack every time I set foot on campus.
But I do and I am.
So what am I going to do? Stay.
Because I need to. Last summer when I wanted to quit a teacher from high school sent me an email. She said that she had been following the blog and thought I should stay at BYU. Because I have a voice here. I can change things here.
But how can I do that when I barely can sum up the courage to wear my ‘gay’ tee shirt. And what about when I get my LGBT/Obama gear!? (I got it BTW and I think they are epic!)

But I have to be strong. Because I will change this place.
This place that breeds hate.
This place that breeds ignorance.
This place that takes my breath away in fear.
My mom is worried that I may be too stressed and should quit my job.
It’s not the job. I love my job.
It’s not the 18 credits. I’ll take 21 if I can get out of here faster.
It’s the constant fear that all the hate will someday be mine.
I’ve never been bullied before.
I was called fat once when I was 8. But so what? I’ve had my curves my entire life and I’m quite attached to them thank you very much.
Last summer some people were talking shit about me. That might have hurt. Okay it sucked.
But when I was friends with someone and then they found out I was gay and bailed… well that just about broke my heart. Rephrase: it did break my heart. It turned up my world and made me question everything. But I wouldn’t change it. I now know who I am. Every day I solidify the little pieces that make up Dupree. So someday when I meet someone and start to care about them, and by some miracle they care about me, I can show them who I am. And if they don’t like it they leave before we get too deep.
Well that was all rambles. But the point is that I might be scared but I can’t leave. I can’t turn tail and run away. I have to stand up for the minority and show them that it’s okay to be themselves.
It’s okay to have curves.
It’s okay to have tattoos.
It’s okay to swear like a sailor (when appropriate of course).
It’s okay to wear what you think is comfortable.
It’s okay to be attracted to whom you’re attracted to.
It’s okay to love who you want to love.
It’s okay to sing even though you may be terrible at it.
It’s okay to get a B, or a C, or even a D. And if you fail a class, just take it again!
It’s okay to drive a POS that you love and name and talk to.
It’s okay to cry.
It’s okay to yell.
It’s okay to be hurt or disappointed.
It’s okay to laugh even if you think your face gets all contorted and you sound like something dying.
It’s okay to have a crush on the guy your best friend has a crush on. Okay maybe not but I need something to ease my guilty soul.
You get my point? You’re okay. I’m okay. We’ll all be okay.

Oh and PS- First week back to school was good, I guess I should mention that. 
Oh and PPS- I'm going to MISS YOU JO!

Dark Side- Kelly Clarkson.

There's a place that I know
It's not pretty there and few have ever gone
If I show it to you now
Will it make you run away
Or will you stay
Even if it hurts
Even if I try to push you out
Will you return?
And remind me who I really am
Please remind me who I really am
Everybody's got a dark side
Do you love me?
Can you love mine?
Nobody's a picture perfect
But we're worth it

Fare Thee Well, Oh Blog!

It's true.  I'm leaving the blog.

Now, before you tear up so much you can't read the screen, let me say a few things.

I have loved being a part of this blog community.  It has not only been a place for me to share my thoughts each week, but has allowed me a space to just be myself.  It has provided validation and support and love during the times when I had very little of it elsewhere.  This blog has also been an awesome venue for my own self-discovery.  Because we are allowed and encouraged to be candid and open, I have discovered a lot of things about myself as I worked out my thoughts on this electronic paper, breaking my own personal silences and exploring those of others.  I hope that in leaving I can allow a slot for some other brave soul who wants a turn to be wholly authentic, but who may need a happy place such as this in which to express themselves.

I want to give a BIG shout out to Tiffany for creating such a beautiful place where people can come together and support each other as we discover ourselves and find our place in this world.  Our words may help some reader, but if no one were to ever read this blog, simply having a safe place like this is invaluable (though having readers and commenters sure is nice).  Thank you, Tiffany, for your vision and efforts.  I sure love you.

I also want to thank this community - those who read and comment, but most especially my fellow bloggers. Your comments and kind words have often given me validation and support when I most needed it.  Thank you for accepting and loving me throughout my process and for allowing me, in turn, to support you and share in your happiness and grief.  I believe we learn so much from each other and that we grow that much more by having someone to share our stories with.  You are all so wonderful.

But don't think you can get rid of me that easily.  I'll be around.

Carry on, brave bloggers!

Sending love out to you all,


Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Summer Haze

Okay. Summer memory time.

Going to the gay pride parade. Went on tv in an interview and literally said "BYU pride parade" while describing the event. I make it to national tv FINALLY and I said something STUPID.

Making a poster that was awesome and is currently hanging in my apartment to remind me of the good times I had this summer.

Nicknaming someone Evil Kim and having about half of the eighty staff members calling her that.

Coming to terms with my mother's silent non-acceptance.

Meeting a great friend, having her ditch me then realizing how much I didn't want that.

Writing for this blog which includes a great community.

Cuddling with a straight guy who is quite cute. :)

Learning to work with kids. Never told my co-worker this, but she taught me so much about patience.

Dying my hair on cleaning days with conditioner and markers.

Telling my homophobic roommate I'm gay. And him being okay.

Reading Bailey's posts and being accordingly inspired.

Crying only twice this summer.

Realizing how much I do miss my freshman roommates.


Petting a snake.

Trying new things.

Being myself.

At least half the camp knew who I was. And that same amount accepted it. I built great friends. I made new discovers. But best of all, I did all my homework on time.

I love everyone that makes my life happy. And next week I will have no lists but this week I had no other way of expressing what I felt this summer. People knew who I was and accepted it. Embraced it. Loved me.

I'm glad I'm comfortable with who I am. Yesterday I told someone I'm gay and she told me she was a lesbian. And she's in the stage in her life that she needs support. And now I can support her. All because this summer made me comfortable with who I am.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Michael Rogers

So Portia de Rossi. Is awesome. Duh. Anyway. When she told her brother she was gay she was all nervous and stuff about how he would take it. His response: slightly hurt and a little bit offended. Because she hadn’t told him earlier! He was sad that she had been afraid of what his reaction would be or that he would love her less or something equally preposterous in his mind.

My mom told my dad about me. His response: curious why the crap I didn’t say anything about it to them earlier. And that he loves me all the same and doesn’t care about that or what my choices concerning it are. How freaking legit is that?!

I was so worried for so long that they’d be disappointed or unhappy or whatever. It is such a huge relief for them to know now and that they’re so cool with everything.

Plus even if they weren’t I already had my consolation prize in place: I finally got to meet my girl’s little nephews and they have both taken to me like grasshoppers to karate. They basically adore me. I think that makes me adorable. If I’m lucky she won’t kill me in my sleep for stealing away the affection of such cute munchkins. Or them for stealing away my affection….

Monday, August 27, 2012

AND I'm gay; one more piece of my puzzle...

Fifteen years ago I met one of my best friends.  Although we were in elementary school, we seemed to fall head-over-heels for each other; we immediately became best friends and eventually started a puppy dog romance.  We did the typical elementary-school-love acts of sending each other neatly-folded love notes and at one point she chased me around her parents’ garage with bright-purple popsicle lips, trying to kiss me.

Now she’s married and I’m gay - my how the times change! 

Although we're no longer romantically involved, and haven’t been since the 8th grade, we can still talk on the phone for hours at a time.  It doesn’t matter how many months pass between calls, we always pick up exactly where we left off and never miss a beat. 

In May of this year, I came "out" to her after taking her to lunch for her birthday.  I was terrified but she, being the wonderful friend she is, took everything in stride and told me that she was always going to be my friend and that she loved me. 

I remember walking back to my office in tears, so grateful that among the constant evolution and change in my life, at least I still had my friend.

Well, we spoke for the second time since I told her I was gay last night and it was both a wonderful and painful experience.  We discussed the ups and downs of both of our lives and we shared many intimate details about our individual trials and struggles.  But, during the conversation, one thing she said really stuck out to me.

She said that she “didn’t know me, the REAL me,” and that I had hidden so much from her that she “needed to get to know me again.”

Her comments really got me thinking and I admittedly got a little frustrated (I know you're reading and again, I’m sorry). In the heat of the moment, I tried to explain that I am me; the same person I have always been. Regardless of whatever experiences or feelings I may have hidden from family, friends, and the world, my life experiences to date have defined and molded me into who I am today.  All of me.

Being gay is only a fraction of who I am.  It is only one, small puzzle piece that doesn’t define the entire picture but rather enhances and completes it.

As I thought about this analogy, I started to think about other puzzle pieces that make me whole.

-          I am an artist
-          I am a musician
-          I am a student
-          I am a teacher
-          I am a minister
-          I am a comedian
-          I am a lover
-          I am a car enthusiast
-          I am a cook
-          I am a young professional
-          I am a hiker, skier, and bowler
-          I am a shoe connoisseur
-          I am inquisitive
-          I am a writer
-          I am wounded and bitter
-          I am forgiving
-          I am tired of politics
-          I am driven by equality and human rights
AND I'm gay. 
And so much more.
I don't want to be merely identified as the 'gay guy.'  I want to be known as the young professional who also happens to be gay.  Or the writer and activist who is gay.  The forgiving pastor who is gay. The friend who has been there through everything with you and is also gay. Or nearly any other THING that I am but ALSO happen to be gay.
This isn't the first time that I've had this conversation with someone but coming from someone I love so dearly it really impacted me.  My newest goal, for now, is to be the best me I can be and show the people in my life that I may gay but I am also a lot of other wonderful things, too.  To show that I am still me and always will be.
That's not to say that we don't change and evolve, eh, I know we do; that's just the natural progression on life.  But I am and always will be me. 

Friday, August 24, 2012

Moving on- All the things I’ve should have said this summer

I’m sorry I’m so mean to you. I don’t mean it. I actually think you are amazing… and cute, and funny, and pretty much everything I want. And I know everyone thinks I’m into your friend. But I’m not. I’m over him and really into you.

I’m sorry I flirted with the guy you liked. I should have backed off. You’re a great friend and I hope we will still hang out. Even if I am a slut. And still happen to flirt with/like him.

I’m sorry that you like her because I thought you liked me. But it’s been fun. Thanks for being the only guy I’ve been on more than one date with. I probably won’t ever see you again so have a good life.

I’m sorry she’d dead. I’m sorry I’m pissed at her. And I’m sorry that I envy her.

I’m sorry I could never figure out how I felt about you. I wasn’t trying to play games, I just never knew.

I’m sorry he would ditch you for me. You deserved better than that.

I’m sorry that I never took the time out for you and always took you for granted. But thanks for still chucking along.

I’m sorry you had such an immodest roommate as me when you were such a good quiet person.

I’m sorry he died.

I’m glad that by the end of the summer I got to know you better. You’re kind of hilarious and dorky and brutish, all things that I think are awesome. And I’m sorry you’re her lapdog. That must suck.

You’re not as good as us. And your best friend is a bitch who uses you.

You can do better than this guy. Don’t marry him just because he’s the first good Mormon that you’ve dated.

You deserved a better roommate than me anyways.

I’m still in love with you. So get the fuck away from me.

I’m not Mormon and I’m gay.

Thank you for your speech on children with disability. I almost cried I thought it was so beautiful.

Thanks for all the times you just let me leave, you always understood when I needed to go.

Thanks for pretending to pretend that you cared.

Thanks for calling me gorgeous and letting me rant.

Thanks for always talking to me when I really wanted to be alone… I think.

Thanks for hugging me three times since I told you I was gay.

Thank you for being such a great example of a gay mormon. I wish you all the happiness. 

If you have sex with him then you are the biggest hypocrite that I know. Think of his family dammit.

I think you would make a great girlfriend.

I think you are cute and funny and sweet and like it when you are near me. Too bad you hate gays.

I don’t need you.

Fuck you, you FuckBag for being a worthless POS father. 

The Fourth Drink Instinct- Cute Is What We Aim For

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Lame Puppy Picture

Hmmm. What should I write about? Oh! I have an idea! How about last night when the roommate I have grown to love plays the douche and his twin sister who I use to date arrives while my boyfriend is in the room. Not to mention of course the realization that I still had strong feelings for her. That was fun.

In fact, it may be safe to say that I have stronger feelings for Miranda (the pseudonym for my roommate's twin) then I do for Jay. It might not be too surprising considering that I built a stronger relationship over a longer period of time with her, but I haven't seen her in two years. Or, at least haven't seen her for more than a couple hours for the last two years.

Anyways, Tuesday night wasn't fun. I was heavily flirting with Miranda for several hours with Jay present. P.S. Miranda knows what's going on. She knows I'm gay. She knows I like(d) her even if she doesn't know the full extent (she might). She probably guessed who Jay was. Yet I shamelessly flirted with her. And strongly wanted to cuddle. Even if I've wanted to cuddle with everything I see including tree stumps and the raccoon that we found chillin' in the garbage today. But still.

I'm frustrated with my roommate. I've built a great relationship with Matt over the past couple years. But now he has a girlfriend and doesn't yet know how to act as an individual and not a unit. Translation: he is not hanging out with me. Given, he says him and his girlfriend built an amazing relationship within the past year, but I thought he was better than the people who exchange everyone in their lives for a relationship. Oh well.

To end with a disclaimer, I really like Jay. I've only known him for four months, but I do like him. I just haven't had time to build the relationship like I did with Miranda (or Brian for THAT matter). In fact, I've realized recently how much I do like him. I think he's great. And cute. Though don't tell him I said that.

Even if he does read these posts.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Monday, August 20, 2012

How Lesbians Shaped My Career and Future

Prior to accepting my new position and moving to Cincinnati, my last several bosses were all lesbians.  All of them were “out” but few of them discussed their sexuality; it was kind of an unspoken rule.  We all knew they were gay but out of respect for them and their privacy, nobody discussed it.

After coming out to my mother and living first hand the shitstorm that often follows the experience, I went to my boss and came out to her, told her what happened, and expressed interest in staying with the company but leaving the state.  From that point on, she became a very staunch advocate and an even better business mentor.

A couple of months later I am now in a better-paying, more challenging position - and I'm roughly 1,500 miles away from my family.

Beyond a fresh start and a wide berth from my Mormon upbringing, I have also been exposed to an entire world of diversity that I hadn’t previously known.  In fact, there are more than 3,000 associates in my building and I have on my team of 15, a wide variety of racial, religious, and sexually diverse folks.  It is amazing and something I never experienced in Utah.

One of the greatest things about this company, though, is that they don’t just acknowledge differences, they celebrate and applaud diversity.  Along with hiring a broad and diverse workforce, they also provide opportunities for associates to join together with other like-minded employees so, this past week, I joined the LGBT Associate Resource Group (LGBT ARG).

This group of close to 100 associates meets monthly to discuss issues that affect the LGBT community and employees and they also organize community events and service projects. 

Let’s just say I’m a little excited.  

I may not be ready to wear my rainbow toga to work, but I finally feel like I’m at a place in my life and my career that I can be me. All of me.  It’s a nice feeling; one that I haven’t felt in a long, long time (if ever, really). I think I am finally getting to a point in my life that I can follow the lead of my former bosses.  I believe I’m fine with my coworkers knowing I’m gay and I hope they would be okay with it, too. Furthermore, I trust them to be professional enough to respect me and recognize that my sexuality doesn’t define me or my performance as an employee.  It is just one piece of a truly unique and ever-changing puzzle.

On a side note, as we talk about work, I want you to know I considered changing my tab on this blog to say “Mike” rather than “MJ” a few months ago. But I didn’t. Not because I chickened out, but rather because I adopted “MJ” as my name at work.

My worlds are slowly colliding. I'm making progress and the steps are often small, but they are forward-moving steps nonetheless. 

You know, it never really ceases to amaze me.  Six months ago there wasn’t a chance in Hell I would be telling all of you this or would have even considered joining a gay group at work.  But for some reason, you the readers (as well as my co-authors) have given me more strength than you will ever know. Thank you all.  Anyway, I hope you all have a splendid week, thanks for reading.  Much love to all of you!

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Dream Life For Sale

So, hopefully Jo doesn't hate me for sharing this before she got a chance to... I couldn't help myself. (she can show you when it's clean or something). 
The other day I decided to do a little search. Every since I met Jo she talked about getting a Westie. Traveling the country. Living a simple life. A Dream Life. 
I was on board the minute I knew what a Westy was. ( yes, I'm oscillating between spellings. I prefer i.e., but I think most people probably use y.) 
When I searched on KSL for Westfalia I found one. This one, in fact. 

It said: Dream Life for Sale.
And guess what, folks, Jo and I bought it!

For those of you who don't know what a Westie is. Well, be amazed. 
Because it looks like a regular old hippie van on the outside. 
But on the inside it's a whole house. 

Welcome to the sitting room.

And the kitchen.

It's a roller coaster with front row seats. 
And also (my favorite part) it's a Hate Free Zone. 

Welcome to our master bedroom.

And check it out. I'm in the attic (also known as the bunk bedroom)

I found this awesome tie in one of the cupboards :)

 I'm so so so very excited to have a westie. To have a westie with Jo. We are now officially Road Trip  buddies. I'm pumped to start a new life. To have a project that will be never-ending as we clean it up, get the engine pristine and turn it into everything we've dreamed about. This Westfalia Transporter is the proof to myself that I will have the life I want. I will be a writer and a traveller. I'll see the world. And I'll learn to live small. "I want only this. I want to live. I want to live a simple life."

The funny thing about starting a new life, moving on to something better, leaping toward your dreams, is that you've got to let go of your old life. You've got to purge. And sometimes you've got to watch one of your good friends drive into someone else's life with her gorgeous triple taillights shining.

It's time to say goodbye.

You were the best car I ever had.
It was great going to San Francisco with you for the first time and climbing those scary hills, but never actually rolling backwards into a trolly.
It's been great driving to work with you every day and listening to audio books and singing over the sound of wind and cars whooshing by.
We've had a great carship and I will always love you.
I wish you the best on your new adventures.

If you're looking for a flashy new sports car with a tight ass and a long nose then give me a ring. I'm asking $2500 or best offer. Tell your friends. She's a great little car.

435-896-3823 Tiffany

~live your own truth~

Thursday, August 16, 2012

My ADHD life

Just things that I see and think and write and want. Just me.

Ode to a dear dear friend - S
I don’t know why they call it having your heart stolen. It’s not. And that’s the problem. It’s still very much there, in your chest, beating, beating, beating.
Maybe if it was stolen it would be better. 
Maybe you wouldn’t feel the ache of loneliness with every contraction.
Maybe you could finally get some uninterrupted sleep, without the ghost of them.
Maybe every time your phone went off your heart wouldn’t lurch to the front of your ribs like it is trying to escape.
Maybe you wouldn’t feel like grabbing a carving knife and cutting the damn thing out. Putting it in a box with a bow. Neatly addressing it with loopy cursive writing that you reserve for special occasions. And sending it to them. 
Maybe they shouldn’t call it getting your heart stolen. They should call it keeping your heart. For that is far worse.
PS. I love you Toots. I’m always here

And as I am sitting there at the creek bed, bawling my eyes out because of the injustice and prejudice and hate, my mom simply states “maybe you aren’t gay” like it could possibly solve all my problems.

Last night I dreamed that you wanted me. 
Wanted to hold me. 
Wanted to kiss me. 
Wanted to lay with me.
Wanted to just be with me. 
But then I woke up. The longing was pain. 
Because you don’t want me. You want her. 

I've never been somebody's first. I've never been the first one they call, or their favorite, or the person they day dream about. That was normal. But I've always had a number one. My Hope perse. But now that I don't even have that, it makes no one wanting me oh so much worse.

So this guy just out of nowhere decides that he doesn’t want to work near me anymore because I’m gay and then he apologizes today. I guess I’m just supposed to be okay with that because I’m the coordinator and should forgive him but fuck he made me cry and I think he deserves to know how much it hurts to be persecuted for something that you have no control over.  

My desire to hold your hand was so bad that I had to sit on my own.

We are the clouds that veil the midnight moon;
     How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!—yet soon
     Night closes round, and they are lost forever:
Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
     Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
     One mood or modulation like the last.
We rest.—A dream has power to poison sleep;
     We rise.—One wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
     Embrace fond foe, or cast our cares away:
It is the same!—For, be it joy or sorrow,
     The path of its departure still is free:
Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;
     Nought may endure but Mutability.

I'm sorry that I repulse people. 
I'm sorry that people leave and by the time they remember me I don't want them anymore.
I'm sorry I've been a bitch and pushed people away.
I'm sorry I'm so forgettable.
But I'm not sorry for being me. I love me, even if you don't. 

I can’t change me
I can’t change the way I feel. 
All I know is I need you. 
Or I need you to stay away. If you come back to this town I just know I will lose it. 

You know that I'm at the end of my rope, so what do you do? You push me. 

Look at me like that again and I will be forced to kiss your fucking adorable little face.

Tonight I almost killed myself. How did no one notce? While washing tables and refillng juice I was contemplating my death.
But throw on a fake smile and no one notices.
Even when my old ABF starts talking about his boyfriend he doesn’t see it.
When my new ABF complains about being fat she doesn't see it. 
My crush doesn’t see it. 
My mom didn’t see it even after I told her. 
My boss didn’t see it even after I told him I needed a break and the rest of the night off. 
Nobody sees it. 
Nobody sees me. 

Sorry for the gut spilling. Sometimes you just need to let it all out. Love you guys.

You’re Never Over- Eminem

"So God just help me out while I fight through this grievin’ process

Tryna process this loss is makin’ me nauseous
But this depression ain’t takin me hostage
I’ve been patiently watchin’ this game, pacin’ these hallways
You had faith in me always"

Speeding Cars- Imogen Heap

"The paper cuts, the cheating lovers

The coffee’s never strong enough
I know you think it’s more than just bad luck

I’ve watched you slowly winding down for years

You can’t keep on like this
Now is as bad of time as any

There, there, baby
It’s just text book stuff
It’s in the ABC of growing up
Now, now, darlin’
Oh don’t kill yourself
'Cause none of us were angels
And you know I love you, yeah"


I love my mom.  

Cute, huh?

She is kind and loving.  She loves to laugh.  She has a great sense of humor and shares it often.
She is passionate and creative and giving.  She has always encouraged me to follow my heart, to chase my dreams, to love what I love.  My mom has always felt like more of a friend to me than a mother.

These past few years have been interesting for both of us.  We have both made some huge changes in our own lives and have had to redefine our relationship and our understanding of each other.  There have been tearful conversations where we both speak our own truths.  There have been letters and lunch dates and periods without any talking at all.

But through it all one thing has remained.


I have never questioned my mom's love for me (well....maybe once or twice for about 30 seconds).  We have been through a lot together, but I still feel like she is one of my best friends.  That doesn't mean that things are perfect between us.  That doesn't mean that she completely accepts everything I do or believe, just as I may not accept the things she does and believes, but I feel like we've come to an unspoken agreement lately, an understanding that there is love between us - religion, sexual orientation, beliefs and values aside.

I love mothers.

And now I get to love another one.  Tiffany's mom.  She has one of the biggest hearts ever.  She loves everyone, no matter what.  She is passionate about nature (particularly rocks) and she loves exploring.

On Saturday our mother's are meeting for the first time.  It was my mom's idea.  I'm excited for these two wonderful women that I love so much to get the chance to meet each other.

But I'm also a little nervous.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe I just really want them to be friends.  But what if they don't like each other?  What if the evening flops and there is nothing but awkward conversation and anxiety?   I guess I just want it to go well.  And I'm sure it will.  These are two of the best women I know, two of the most loving and accepting.  I'm sure it will be fine.  But in any case, send us all some good vibes Saturday night. :)

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

The Roommate(s)

For those of you who don't know, I'm a bit of a jerk. Not one of those jerks who is also a douche. But one of these nice jerks who realizes and feels legitimately bad when I cross a line. And I never make fun of people's weights. Or bodies. Mostly because I hate when people feel insecure about their bodies. And type of insecurity about any sort of body (skinny, not so skinny, somewhere in between). So, yeah, I'm one of those nice jerks.

So, turns out two of my three roommates (who I have never met in my life) know each other. This can be fine, but when the other two of us have never me in our lives, and neither of us have never met the other two, this could create a problem. The normal type of problems involving exclusion and me NOT being able to be the dominant roommate. So, because these two have an unfair advantage of knowing each other before moving in, I have slowly begun plotting how to pull pranks on these two. And yes, this might be because I'm a bit of a jerk.

First, my hair color will not be completely blond (for those who don't know, I'm blond). It will defiantly have multiple colors in it when they first meet me. (I have a way to dye hair in which it washes instantly out when I so desire). (So, basically, I can dye my hair any color).

For my second prank (which will also happen the first time they meet me) I have a sign that will hang on the door of our apartment saying "clothes optional beyond this point." Unfortunately for them, I won't tell them my level of seriousness...

The rest my pranks may be more fun, but are too elaborate to put here. But trust me, they will be fun and I WILL be the dominant male of the apartment again.

For something a little less frivolous, I wish to talk about my roommate of my original blog post. He's the one who professed how much he doesn't like gay people on my FIRST day meeting him. So I naturally never told him I'm gay. Until last week. I told him impulsively (like I do most things) and he told me he had already guessed it. Like it was no big deal. However, he also did admit if I had told him earlier (like within the first few months of meeting him) he would not have been okay with it. I'm apparently the first gay guy he has ever respected and considered his friend. More importantly, I'm the first gay guy that he has been okay with being gay. I big step for a traditional Utahan.

I would never admit it to him, but him saying this stuff to me not only crushed some of my biggest fears, it gave me hope. I wish everyone out here, everyone who reads this blog, can find someone like my roommate. Someone who can tell you to your face that they hate gay people but, by the time you get around to telling them you're gay six months later, they can have enough respect for you that your sexuality no longer matters. I wish everyone had the chance to break barriers that are formed out of ignorances. I wish the best for everyone and the best includes a world not based on prejudices and ignorance.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

In Which I Gain and Lose a Thousand Fortunes

So we’re back in Utah now. And by we I mean I, I being singular and sans company. Stupid work. Anyway, I got back on Wednesday night and within twenty minutes my lovely—and affectionately-termed—fuzzbucket (too much Madagascar, and she won’t let me call her the name I want to yet so it’s her own fault) was with me at my relatives’ house where my mom and I were staying. It was so good to see her. Finally. After that, Friday Saturday Thursday Sunday, we were never more than six feet three inches from each other. Actually I take that back: when we were racing carts in the parking lot of Ikea I was at least seventy-five yards ahead*. But anyway, best four days ever. Except now it’s killing me because we’re in our respective places of residence, ninety minutes apart, so we can go to our respective works. Bottom line: it sucks. I hadn’t seen her for so long, but now that I have and that we’re so close, it sucks worse. It’s about as much fun as being a one-legged rabbit. Or so I assume. I’ve never actually been a three-legged rabbit so I wouldn’t know firsthand. But my best guess is that it’s not very enjoyable.

In other news, I told my mom I’m gay. And by I I mean the aforementioned fuzzbucket. Maybe that’s a copout, but whatever, I’m counting it. We had a whole plan worked out to tell her but then it kind of fell through, not even with style either, which would have been sorely disappointing except that it all worked out anyway. We told her while driving in the car, and the main point was that we were dating, so I approved because it didn’t feel like making anything weird unnecessarily. We didn’t get a chance to talk much, but I feel good about it. That night as my mom said goodbye before leaving us to go back home, she gave my love a hug and reconfirmed her invitation to spend Christmas with my family. I almost wanted to cry, I was so touched. But I leave the crying to other, more capable, individuals.

*She might tell it differently but she’s not here to argue, so my word is as good as gold. Literally.**

**Knowing the rules of the use of literally, I have license to break them. So there. Also, asterisk within an asterisk. Your mind is now blown; you’re welcome.

Monday, August 13, 2012


I moved across the country on Thursday of last week.

I ran around crazy all weekend buying things I needed for my new place and unpacked the majority of my stuff.

I started my new job today.

I feel incredibly overwhelmed.

I am tired.

I am an emotional train wreck.

I question where I fit in with my family - still.

I miss my friends.

I miss my boyfriend.

I miss feeling physically close to someone.

I miss, perhaps more importantly, feeling emotionally close to someone.

I can't sleep because it is hot and humid.

I am putting on a happy face most of the time but I generally just want to cry or sleep.

I don't need to go on antidepressants but I would really love a secret stash of Xanax.

I am angry at God and religion, you can read about it here if you want...

I want to love myself but I can't anymore (right now).

I sometimes feel so anxious while I'm driving, or at the store, or just sitting thinking, that I want to throw up.

I started a walking challenge today; I committed to walk 700,000 steps over the next 10 weeks.

I had to buy a pedometer this evening.

I cooked with wine this evening and made a semi-authentic Italian meal.

I realized how much I missed cooking (and alcohol).

I watched "Arrested Development" episodes and realized how much I miss legitimately laughing.

I got even more tired and realized I hadn't written my post for this week.

I didn't want to write today's post; the first time that has happened since I started blogging for this site.

But I did write it.

And I'm glad.

Here's a beautiful French blessing for you all:

My Wish for You - 

Comfort in your difficulties,
Smiles when frowns come your way,
Rainbows after rainstorms,
A laugh upon your lips,
Sunshine to warm your heart,
A hug when you're down in the dumps,
Friendships to clarify your journeys,
Beautiful things to see and ponder,
Confidence when you doubt,
Faith so you can believe,
Courage to know yourself,
Patience to accept truth,
And a love to complete your life.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Turn Up the Bass

This weekend I went to the Dam Jam (for those like me who have no idea what that is: a bluegrass get together at a campground next to the Rockport Dam where all kinds of folks gather together and play their fiddles, banjos, mandolins, and upright basses plus or minus a few other instruments I don't know what are) with Jo.
If any of you are unaware (which might be likely because she keeps it a secret sometimes) Jo is extremely musical.
Talent doesn't begin to describe what she has.
She's brilliant with music.
Put any instrument in her hands and she will make beautiful tunes with it.
Don't even get me started on her voice. Makes me melt.

I played the flute from the sixth grade to the twelfth grade when I decided to switch over to the tuba. I played the tuba my whole senior year and I became the first chair tuba (meaning I was the best of the three tubas in our high school band--says more about the lack of talent in our band than it does about me).

After high school I pretty much quit all musical endeavors. Although I did join a couple of my church's ward choirs where we sang the same church hymns I'd sang all my life.

My sophomore year in college I met a boy who had a guitar. He showed some romantic interest in me, so I took advantage and convinced him to give me guitar lessons. He lost interest in me and I lost my guitar lessons--but not after learning one of the most depressing songs EVER: You Are My Sunshine.

Then my junior year I met a whole apartment of guitars. I learned  few more chords after making it a habit to stop in their apartment every time their door was unlocked so I could play one of their five guitars sitting in their living room.

Music at that point had become my new solace (and by music, I mean banging on the guitar and screaming my lungs out with whatever words I came up with that day). I turned to the guitar every time I felt sad or unnerved or restless. After a few times of the neighbor boys' door being locked I decided it was time to get my own guitar. So I did. His name is Freddy.

The summer after I got Freddy I met a guy at work who is a guitar master. He started teaching me Blackbird. I learned the first few little parts and quit practicing. Two years later here I am trying to learn the rest of the whole damn song. I will finish it. I will learn something other than you are my sunshine (who left me sad and depressed).

But here's something I've been thinking about a lot lately, and I don't' even know where the idea came from exactly: I want to learn to play the upright bass.
I've always loved the bass. I love the simplicity of bass sounds (like the Tuba) and yet how they carry an entire tune. I love the way they look. Big. Majestic. Tough. Like me :)

I think there's just something amazing about being able to produce sounds that I couldn't do otherwise. I can't sing like a bass. But playing bass notes on the tuba was so satisfying.

Going to the dam jam with Jo this weekend solidified my desire. I've been looking online here and there for an upright bass. For lessons. Just kind of wishful hunting, really. But this weekend I got a mini lesson from a friend. I touched a bass. Held it. Plucked the strings. It feels good and I want more. I want to stand in a circle with the fiddles and mandolins and the guitars and I want to thump the strings of a bass to their tune.

Music scares me. Especially since I live with one of the best musicians ever.
But something in me just hurts for it.
I think it's time for me to turn up the bass in my life.

~live your own truth~