Lyrics For The Soul

To fight depression I generally fall back on two things: image sharing sites such as Tumblr and IMGfave or/and listening to music. While trying to fight off another attack this afternoon I plugged in my headphones and booted up my Tumblr. I think the reason I fall back onto both of these is the idea of resonance. Listening to lyrics or reading a quote that seem like they are speaking exactly to my situation helps me to believe I’m not alone. It’s a terribly selfish notion considering I shouldn’t wish this on anyone, but I delight in finding people who are struggling like me.

So to remember these lyrics that I liked I started a list in my journal titled Lyrics For The Soul. Unfortunately I ignored it for a few good months but I’ve been trying to update it more. Anyways… here are some of my lyrics:

This was no accident; this was a therapeutic chain of events.

The path to Heaven leads through miles of crowded hell.

First thought when I wake up is my God he’s beautiful, so I put on my makeup and pray for a miracle.

Grab someone sexy.

You can’t choose what stays and what fades away. 

You are the hole in my head, you are the space in my bed, you are the silence in between what I thought and what I said. 

Would you leave me if I told you what I’ve done, and would you need me if I told you what I’ve become? Because it’s so easy to say it to a crowd but it’s so hard, my love, to say it to you now.

I don’t know what to do with you because you don’t know what you do to me.

If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won.

And if you are so God damn naïve say a prayer for me.

The preacher man said Jesus saves if we walk this way.

Maybe we’re friends, maybe we’re more, maybe it’s just my imagination but I see you stare just a little too long and it makes me start to wonder.

Do not ask the price I’ve paid I must live with my quiet rage. Tame the ghosts in my head that run wild and wish me dead. Should you shake my ash to the wind, Lord forget all my sins. Oh, let me die where I lie beneath the curse of my lover’s eyes. 

Cause there is no drink or drug I’ve tried to rid the curse of my lover’s eyes. And I feel numb beneath your tongue, your strength just makes me feel less strong.

I let Satan inside of me and now I’m dammed for eternity and he’ll come for you next so stay the hell away from me. 

And they don’t understand what I mean when I say I paid the fee, so keep the Lord to you and leave the Devil to me.

Did you even miss me? Did you even notice I was gone? Did you even think to look in the last place you saw me? Or are you already moving on?

I don’t have a choice but I still choose you. 

I don’t love you but I always will.

I wish I was strong enough to lift, not one, but the both of us.

After all these things are done, I think I love you better now.

A loveless romantic, all that he really wants is someone to want him back.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl.

I’m not good at talking but I’ll sing you lullabies.

I never said I’d be anything but bad to you; your perception of me was always skewed.

Have you heard, Hummingbird, he’s happy without me. Did I fail nightingale if I’m still lonely? 

There’ll be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown but I’d be yours if you’d be mine.

Why I Hate NyQuil

So, I'm sick. But it is just a silly cold. I wake up feeling crappy, take some DayQuil, and I'm all better. You know, slight irritations still exist, but nothing I can't handle. I'm a tough boy. I'll be okay. So long as I stay on DayQuil.

But NyQuil is a different story. Just need to preface this by saying that I've never had either of these drugs. This was the first time.

So, I'm about to go to bed so I take some NyQuil. It is suppose to make you drowsy while surpressing a cough, right? Well, apparently NyQuil doesn't do that for me. Instead, it gives me a massive headache that does not allow me to sleep. And when I do fall asleep, it is a light, hazy sleep. With VERY vivid dreams.

I dream a lot. And my dreams are generally quite vivid, but harmless and even light-hearted. Recently dreamed about being a competitive interior designer inside of a dome that you had to pay to breathe. Dupree also made delicious Halloween donuts that I submitted into a competition which she won. So, as you can see, very light-hearted dreams that usually do not pertain to real life.

Last night though, with my restlessness atop the headache from the NyQuil, did not produce such a dream. Instead, it gave me something of a nightmare that, unfortunately, really does show some of my hopes/fears from real life.

My roommate Matt, who is now on a mission to Brazil, and I were close. I considered him my best friend. He knew I was gay. He knew about my struggles in life. And he genuinely cared about my conflicts and helped me work through them. I felt close to him. When he got a girlfriend, I was actually jealous of her. He spent more time with this chick than me. But alas, the point still stands. I miss him and I am (again) getting a bit bitter towards the church for taking him away from me.

In the dream, Matt is back from his mission early. And I wasn't celebrating. I wanted him back, true, but I wanted him to serve a full mission just as he wanted too. But then I find out that he is only back for a week because of some weird rule (that only exists in the dream) that allows him to come back for that week so they can transfer him to San Fransisco because he has had experience with gay people (mainly me). So, I want to maximize my time with him. So, what do we do? We go shopping (again, something I hate in real life, but dreams change everything).

While shopping (at Radio shack) we come across a 25$ Umbreon stuffed animal. And I forgot my wallet. So, Matt offers to pay for it (that is how much he trusts me apparently. I will pay him back is the idea). This entire time, we have been talking to an old, married couple about how close Matt and I are and why Matt is back. And as soon as we mention gay people, they get this sour look on their faces and proceed to rant about gay people.

I'm horrified. Matt's horrified. So, finally, I interrupt the old lady and state, with emotion, that Matt is an excellent missionary and my best friend and has been a great help in my life. Oh, and I'm gay. And, dreams being what they are, they change into my grandparents. They try to stop me from running away just to express their anger and disappointment. They even try to convince Matt to do the same.

Guys. I can't stress how much this part of the dream meant to me. This part of the dream woke me up and I legit could not tell for five minutes what was dream and what was real. That is how realistic everything was. The first part of the dream contrasts too much with the second part. Happy to sad. Matt and acceptance to grandparents and intolerance. I don't have dreams that relate to me. I don't have dreams that wake me up thinking "is this real?"

I want Matt back. I also want him on a mission. But I can't have both.

I want to step out of this closet. I want people to accept the real me. But, again, I can't have both.

Maybe this is why the dream is so disturbing. It allowed me to have Matt back (if only for a week) and still allowed him to have a full-time mission. But it wouldn't allow me to say I'm gay and promote tolerance. Almost as though Matt coming back early while still serving his full-time mission is more realistic.

And that is why I will not take NyQuil again; massive headaches with depressingly philosophical dreams.

Soundtrack to 2012

I look forward to the end of the year for one main reason: compiling a playlist of the year’s best songs. And while I would love to share that entire playlist, 187 songs and descriptions of them would make an incredibly long, and tiresome, post. Instead, here are 10 highlights for me from 2012, in no particular order.

1. "Cuckoo" – Adam Lambert

As a proud Glambert, I was elated when Trespassing came out, and even more elated to see Adam perform “Cuckoo” at an outdoors summer concert. 2012 only cemented my allegiance to him.

2. "Leave My Body" – Florence + the Machine

I had the privilege of seeing Florence + the Machine perform live in April. And when the goddess-like Florence Welch sang this song…chills.

3. "Forrest Gump" – Frank Ocean

Coming out on Tumblr, releasing the epic Channel Orange, and receiving six Grammy nominations? It’s been a pretty good year for Mr. Ocean.

4. "One Foot" – Fun.

“I put one foot in front of the other one/I don’t need a new love or a new life/Just a better place to die”

5. "Part of Me" – Katy Perry

(I was gonna put a line or two from this song, but I ended up wanting to put all the lyrics lol).

6. "National Anthem" – Lana Del Rey

Lana Del Rey was a staple for me throughout 2012. Her album Born to Die has some of the most plays in my iTunes library. And while some tracks have come in and out of fads, “National Anthem” has consistently been a favorite of mine.

7. "Bad Girls" – M.I.A.

Banging beat. Empowering lyrics. Dope music video. Greatness achieved.

8. "Same Love" – Macklemore and Ryan Lewis

This pro gay anthem that went viral in fall thrust Macklemore and producer Ryan Lewis into mainstream pop culture. The rest of their album, The Heist, does not disappoint fans.

9. "Fear and Loathing" – Marina and the Diamonds

“There is no crime in being kind/Not everyone is out to screw you over/ Maybe, oh just maybe, they just wanna get to know you.”

10. "Disparate Youth" – Santigold

“Now we push right past to find out/Oh, how to win what they all lost/We know now we want more/A life worth fighting for”                                                           

And of course, Demi Lovato, Imagine Dragons, and Nicki Minaj must be thanked for their contributions to 2012. 

Oh yes. 2012

It's the end of the year.

When I'm not organizing my schedule around work, I turn nocturnal. It's always a pain when vacation ends, and I'm trying to head it off early this time. I didn't sleep yesterday in the hope that I'll be able to fall asleep early this evening. That is the state of the brain composing this post. Could be worse.

I've been watching The Pacific this week. War. Sixty-five years ago my ancestors were killing my neighbors' ancestors and vice-versa. There was a scene with a little baby that reminded me of the kindergartners I was Santa for and also the niece I used to babysit. They're so small.

Between episodes I worked on my Navy application. The December selection board had a fifty-one percent pickup rate for my area; the March board, my board, may be a little higher or lower. I still want to go.

***

January

I saw kabuki in Tokyo. It was gorgeous and I understood not one word. We looked at Tokyo from the top of a skyscraper before the show.

February

I spent a nightmare week at home with the flu. If that wasn't the worst week of my life to date, it's right up there. And then girls gave me chocolate.

March

I finished my first full year as a teacher and gave chocolate to girls.

April

Cherry blossom festival down by the river (if I'm lucky I'll be able to see the blossoms one last time this year before I fly home) and . . . True Blood? Something TV bingey. I got my tax and health insurance bills, and I was poor.

May

I went to China. I was swindled out of a moderate amount of money that seemed like a very large amount of money first because it was in Yuan and second because I was still poor from April. I danced with an old friend in a nightclub at two in the morning and walked in empty wide Nanjing streets at three. Later I jumped ticket taking machines with a giant bag full of shoes (not mine) to catch the last train of the night.

June

Nothing happened in June.

July

My parents came to visit for the second time, and I went to the onsen with my dad. My mom went with a teacher friend of mine. We ate soba and tempura. I stopped going to kendo.

August

I climbed Mt. Fuji. I watched handfuls of sunrises, including one at the nature preserve and orchard down the street where I can see clear to the mountains and everything is gold at five a.m.

September

Teaching was fierce that month. So many full schedules.

October

I think . . . there was drinking? Or something? With people? And I distinctly remember this as the last month that I had a clean house.

November

I scored well on the Navy officer test. Kyle came to visit, and we went to Kyoto. After he left I crashed from exhaustion, but it was worth it.

December

I turned twenty-four. There were Thanksgiving and Christmas parties. Santa. The one year anniversary of me giving up porn, and also of my older brother telling me I'm not welcome in his life. On Christmas day I went to the dentist and got good news.

***

This year was satisfying. This next year will be too maybe.

This next week's post will also be satisfying, at least for me. I think it goes back to what I was saying in the muzzle post. When you have something to say, speaking is oh-so-satisfying.

I'll be speaking about / responding to Clive's post, and possibly other posts in that series in the coming weeks. I think he's got an important point in mind, but he's going about it wrong. Like . . . trying to bite open a suitcase, or something.

***

To finish: "She was right in regarding all arguments as nonsense in comparison with that smile." (War and Peace)

Friendship Is Invaluable

A few weeks ago I got my feelings hurt. I had every intent to never talk to the culprit again, heck I even deleted him from my FB. While whining to my mother she simply said to me “friendship is invaluable”, commenting on her relationship with my “uncle” Steve. Her and Steve had been friends for as long as I can remember and now they talk every single day and have helped each other through so much. So I got over it because my mother was right; friendship is invaluable.

But when I came to college I hadn’t really planned on making friends. I figured I would stick with Satan and maybe find myself a husband. Who would have thought that Satan would ditch me and I would maybe end up wanting a wife? And I never thought I could make friends outside of high school where we are shoved together for 8 hours a day but surprisingly I HAVE A BEST FRIEND! (Granted, I noticed that my three closest friends are from where I worked so maybe I DO have to be shoved into an environment for long periods of time to make friends.)

The point: I have a best friend. She’s fantastic. I remember when I first met her. Lee was actually the one to make our introductions, simply saying “That’s Dupree, the anti-social one” and pointing to me lounging in the hammock. I checked her out, thought she was too goody, and moved on. Later I discovered that I was starting to like her more and more and then one day, while Lee and I were discussing our posts for the week, she piped up that she read the blog. After that it was a fast friendship of listening to music in the shower, yelling each other’s names when we entered the kitchen, and talking about boys and watching the stars and having ice cream picnics on top of Rici. Somewhere in the midst of summer work, I made a best friend.

She asked me in the fall what happened to the friendships we made at work. I told her that if people put in the effort then they were true friendships. After that I promised to put in effort and it’s definitely paid off.

Anyways we’ve heard a lot about R and how much I love her. But this Christmas she completely out did herself.

After not being able to see one another for what seemed like forever we finally got to have a sleepover tonight (like seriously I am writing this post with her right next to me as she peruses the internet). But with this I got my Christmas present, she got hers, we made a bunch of food, and watched Pitch Perfect and Perks of Being A Wallflower. For my present she created a Sadness Emergency Kit complete with Nutella, Chocolate Cake, two books that look awesome, a stuffed dog (it’s the cutest), and the greatest mixed CD ever (which is hilarious considering my gift to her was a mixed CD).

The CD was seriously the highlight. There were quotes that gave hints to the songs and it was awesome to go through the whole CD trying to figure out the artists. It started off with Lover’s Eyes and I seriously freaked out (I mean how did she know that that was my favorite song of the week?) It was all spectacular.

I guess the point is that my mother was right, friendships are invaluable. Around this time of the year I always feel completely alone but then I have my friends that just randomly are like hey I love you. And yea… it’s great. I’m sure I could more eloquently express my appreciation for her when it wasn’t 1230 and she wasn’t sitting right next to me and we weren’t getting ready to start another movie before maybe finally crashing.

Love to you all!

And I hope you had a more than miserable Christmas and have plans for an exciting New Years.

How the Grinch Survives Christmas

“I-iiiiiiiiiiiiii don’t want aaaa lot forrrr Christmas”

I groaned, ignoring the “what’s your problem?” looks from the people in that coffee shop. Admittedly, even I had to check myself. I mean, it was only November. And it was the first instance of the holiday season where I was hearing Mariah Carey’s popular “All I Want For Christmas is You” (though now my count has reached the 30s, all thanks to radio and department stores).

And that’s when I knew I wasn’t feeling Christmas this year.

Jingle all the way? More like whining all the way as I went about my December activities. Not even shopping or donating to a homeless shelter could lift me out of this funk. It got so bad that I even began to sympathize with those melodramatic tales from people not having that “special someone” to go do December-y things with: gift shopping, hot cider drinking, snow frollocking, and ice skating. Typically, I respond to such lamentations with a big LOL and a “that’s ridiculous.” But this December, as I put on my happy face and thinking cap to buy presents, it took all I had to bite my tongue and withhold cynical points of criticism at the slowpoke couples standing in my way of that last scarf.

And as I went about December, I couldn’t help but wonder if other people were experiencing the same thing. Are there others who don’t like the holidays? Do the typical December activities turn off some? Is loneliness a widespread feeling during December? How do people get into the spirit of the holiday season?

Now, with it being Christmas Eve, I feel resolution as I sigh relief go and realize I have made it through the holiday season. Now comes the easy part: nom nom-ing on delicious food my parents make and unwrapping the clothes I helped cast as my presents in the production of Christmas Day.

But as soon as Mariah starts singing next November, will I be in the holiday spirit?

With Apologies

I'm not sure what to post on today. I probably wouldn't post, but I feel bad about not blogging last week. In my defense, I'd just finished finals, and spent a pleasant day with my cousins shopping and watching Lord of the Rings and I didn't really feel like doing anything else. Now I'm over at my parents' house for the next three days, hoping everything will be okay. It probably will. I'm still anxious about it, in spite of reassurances and the fact that it is only for three days.

I'm glad it will be a white Christmas here in Utah. That should be nice.

Christmas is sad because traditions are supposed to remind us of how everything is the same. But nothing is the same here; we're watching home videos and I'm up on the screen reading two poems I wrote where every line ends with "because of the baby Jesus." I'm like 11. It's adorable. And long and silly and kind of weird. We were cute kids. So I guess there's that. But now we're all grown up and sad. And it's kind of sad.

I feel bad that I don't have anything else to say. But I hope you have a pleasant holiday, whatever you do or do not celebrate. Either way, here's a poem by ee cummings about christmas, but also about being sad and lonely, so it can apply to multiple circumstances.

little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower

who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly

i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don't be afraid

look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,

put up your little arms
and i'll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy

then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they'll stare!
oh but you'll be very proud

and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we'll dance and sing
"Noel Noel" 

He's jolly and foreign, what more could you ask for?

A week or so ago, I was Santa. First at an elementary school, for the special ed class. Lots of ho-ho-ho’s and hand shaking and “merry Christmas!”s, and then we played bingo until all thirty kids won and got a present from Santa. One kid was super energetic and friendly. As we finished class, he came up to me, patted my pillow-enlarged belly, and asked (in Japanese), “Santa, are you pregnant?”

Costume held together with safety pins. Classy.

No buddy. But if I were, I hope my kid would be as awesome as you.

Second was a kindergarten. Four very brave tiny children asked questions like “How many reindeer do you have,” “Why do you wear red,” “How do you get in houses,” and “Where do you live?” (Nine reindeer; it’s a bright and happy color; magic; and Finland.) Each kid came up and shook my hand and got a present, and then we took a class picture.

And then in the teachers’ room the principle gave me coffee and cake, an origami Santa ornament, tangerines, and a flower arrangement from the PTA. Unexpected, but pleasant. Add to that the fact that both days I was finished with “work” by eleven a.m. and I had an extremely satisfying Santa experience.

It makes me think a bit. It’s the kind of thing that wouldn’t have happened in the states. If I’d kept on my pre-Japan path I’d be living in New York and still thinking of myself as far too young to be a suitable Santa. I’d be missing out on so much. 
Or maybe not, maybe I’d be doing equally awesome things in the states. Kinda doubt it, though.

***

For the holiday itself, I’m going to stay indoors where it’s warm all day, but for the twenty-fourth I’m going with a friend and her friends and family over to the coast, to a town called Fujisawa. We’ll go to a nondenominational Christian service that’s completely in Japanese (I didn’t understand a single word last year) and eat a fantastic dinner of excellent chicken (though not KFC, which is seriously what most Japanese people associate with Christmas) and sushi. And wine, because the dad of the family is a connoisseur. We’ll sit on cushions around the low heated table and I will try very hard to participate in the conversation. I swear, being social here is like taking oral exams every day.

I like this. Aside from my mom’s rolls, I never really liked Christmas dinner in the states. Christmas sushi may become a tradition for me.

***

Christmas lights: I miss them. There are three houses I know of in my city that have lights up, and they’re all awful, garish, and tacky.

Christmas songs: I don’t miss them. This year the only ones I’ve sought out are “Boots” and “Joseph, Better You Than Me,” both by The Killers. That’s enough. I’m sure I’ll hear all the others next year. And the year after that. And so on.

***

Next week will almost certainly be full of reminiscences. For the week after that, though, I have something more . . . contrary? combative? in the works. Some things were said in the moho blogs recently that I strongly disagree with and think are important enough to write a handful of posts about.

***

Chances are you’ve seen this already, but in case you haven’t: The year's best autocorrects. Guffaws and tears. It’s that funny.

The End Of The World and Suicide (A Post Of Interjected Parenthesis)

So today is December 21. Where are the bombs? Asteroids? Jesus? Aren’t they all supposed to show up on my door and demand penance? Or something? I mean today was supposed to be cool. The coolest thing to happen to me today was the chance to deep clean the drink machine (I have a serious obsession with cleaning projects in my work place’s dining hall… IDK maybe I’m secretly disgusted at how nasty they are or maybe I just really like easy work). Either way today was supposed to be something out of the ordinary. I even used my senior yearbook quote on this (Don't take life too seriously: none of us will survive 2012). I never truly believed that this would be the end of the world but maybe I was secretly because I am apparently disappointed that it didn’t happen.

In other happy news, guess who was suicidal again?

Yep me. And probably other countless students who had to go through finals in this dreary place. And while I don’t want to hash out all the details (because let’s face it, we’ve been there) I want to share something that was different this time.

Usually when I get to these places my mind is crowded with all the things I should do. How should I do it? Where should I do it? Do I leave a note? Where would I leave the note? Who do I even write a note to? What about the people I left behind? How will they feel about this? Should I clean my room? What about packing up my stuff? Could I leave that to my mom? What about my bills? My student loans, she shouldn’t have to deal with those….

Seriously it just goes on and on. But when I went to my not-so-happy place this time I asked myself another question, one that (even though I’ve contemplated suicide since I was eight and thought 10 Ibuprofen would kill me) I hadn’t asked myself yet. What will death be like? Not so much dying but what happens after? It shocked me to realize I had never asked that and also that I was so far gone that I would even ask that. So I seriously thought about it and here is what I came up with.

Numero Un: The cynics are correct; nothing happens. It’s just a dark abyss of absolutely nothing.

Numero Dos: I go to hell. I mean I killed myself right? That’s a sin right? I’m going to hell. Not to mention the happy fact that I’m gay and I’m generally not content unless I’m “sinning” in one form or another. Really by most doctrine I’m straight up damned. Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth is the (after) life for me. Awesome.

Numero Twa: I go somewhere. Maybe not heaven, but just a place that we go. One of the Mormon doctrines that I really liked was talking about how the spirit world was actually earth and spirits are just roaming here. I spent the most time contemplating this one and I’m (almost) ashamed to say I was really drawn to it. I mean I can imagine my welcoming party consisting of my grandma Sandra, Uncle Skip, my cousin Stephi… maybe even my grandpa would show up even though I’ve never met him (my mom says we would have gotten along well). I would run up and give my grams a hug and tell her how much I missed her and how much mom and Mikey miss her as well. Skip would ask me what I learned in my experiences at Earth (as is the way of Skip. He used to ask me every day when I got home from school what I learned that day.) Grandpa Sam would probably introduce himself and maybe make a comment on the years I spent taking care of his wife (like I said, never met the man but I did look after his wife (my great grandma Sarah (and yes this is a parenthesis within a parenthesis (paran-ception))) so maybe he’d have something to say to me). I would also bombard Stephi with questions. Why she did it? Does she reject it? Could any of us have helped?

After I got settled I could imagine my afterlife…

I could imagine Stephi and me going to different museums. She could teach me how to paint (she was the first person who introduced me to art) and we could travel the world painting random landscapes. And have a never ending art supply. The world would literally be our canvas. It could be amazing.

I could imagine going to concerts with my grandmother. She could introduce me to all the songs that were the background to my childhood and I could introduce her to bands I’d think she’d like today (mainly Deadtooth but she might have some appreciation for Mortigi Tempo… my grandma’s a hard ass). We could have private chats with all the dead greats (as unoriginal as it may be I kind of want to meet Kurt Cobain) and sneak into live shows. Hang out backstage and listen in on their jam sessions. It would be like being a groupie but without all the promiscuous sex.

I could imagine my Uncle Skip joining my grandmother and me for our musical education. I could imagine fishing with my grandfather. I don’t even know if he used to fish but I can imagine it would be something we would enjoy doing together.

My life could be pretty damn swell if I was dead.

But that’s not how I should be looking at it. Yes I can appreciate that death could be awesome. Could be. But who knows what will actually happen. And right now I need to live my life. What about all the things I would miss if I died? Like having kids and getting married and owning a home. Those things sound so 1950’s America but I’m kind of drawn to them. Or what if I hopped in a RV and traveled the states or hitchhiked to South America or caught a boat to Europe to backpack some more. I could do so much and most of the time I can tell myself that and not worry too much about being constantly suicidal but this time…

I guess what scared me the most this last time was that I wasn’t just running away from everything… I was trying to run toward something.

A Personal Hell

Hey Guys! Checking in so that I can talk a little about me and religion.

I mean, the doctrine can be silly sometimes. Like the choices they give gay people (4% of men, so not a huge focus of the church I suppose). But also look at the tax exempt statement and the clear political stances of the church. Look at... well, a lot of things.

Also want to say how frustrating this church can be. For me. I lost the one man I have ever really loved (I always claimed that I didn't really know what love is but, looking back, I think the word might be appropriate). And I lost him because of the church. He couldn't choose between me and the church for three damn years. So, I made the decision. Not for him, but for me. Friends tell me I made the choice for us, so we could both live better lives. But, in the end, I'm not that holy of a person. I'm not that nice. I made that decision for me. He is in just as much if not more pain for this, but I know I can (and mostly have) move on better than he can. I caused him pain for me. Unnecessary if the church had not been a factor in life.

So, I lost someone who wants to be Mormon and can sometimes pretends he isn't gay. Not to bad, right? But what if I also said I lost UCLA due to the bullying that I went through to go to BYU. Yes, my mother had the best intentions in mind. But, how does the saying go? "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions." This is suppose to mean that people just never got around to doing the right thing but, in my case, this saying means that, yes, my mother had good intentions but the road she paved lead me to Hell.

However, BYU isn't  Hell for everyone. Some people thrive here.

Similar, Mormonism isn't a Hell for everyone. Even gay people. Some people want to be gay and embrace the church. Just because I can't doesn't mean that other people are wrong to do so. Mormonism has just as many flaws as other religions. And people need spirituality. So let them have what they will. I just don't want old men (notably, not woman) to tell me what to do. But other people do. Other people see their wisdom.

Enjoy your life. Guilt has a point and even if I believe that the church puts a little too much emphasize on this idea doesn't mean anything. Just means other people embrace copious amounts of guilt similar to how a masochist embraces pain.

So, even if you wish to remain Mormon, please, enjoy your life (doesn't mean be morally ambiguous, just means be yourself). That is more important than the Mormon God himself for even he claims that man were made that they might have joy. (See! I can still quote scripture!)

When a Donkey Teaches You About Life

A message from my professor with an announcement for class, 40% off my next online purchase, and – gasp – there it is: the dreaded forwarded chain email. But while they may be incredibly annoying, the sentimentality and cheerfulness of some chain emails are often too sweet to ignore. And I’m not referring to the “email this to 10 people or your grandma will lose a bone in her leg” emails. I’m talking about the ones with loving words and life lessons, accompanied by pictures of kittens, blooming flowers, and smiling suns. Anyone who denies the feel-good nature of these emails may be questioned on the existence of their own soul.

One of these emails was too good for me to pass up. Remember that no matter what the trial, it will always make you a better person.

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey. He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well.

At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down. A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up. As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off! 

MORAL: Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a steppingstone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.

I am currently in finals recovery: the period after taking final examinations where my brain is too fried to do anything but lounge, eat junk food, and watch tons of Netflix. Hope the rest of you are staying warm, dry, and happy!

Guys aren't a priority I guess.

So, about that guy. That soldier. The one that I like.

Enlisting in the Navy is a significantly faster process than applying for an officer commission, so even though I started talking with my recruiter back in August, I’m still working on my application while the guy has finished his and started basic training. I haven’t signed any contracts, so if I were really serious about having something with him, it would still be possible. Part of me says that that’s what I should do: Leave off the paperwork, stop pestering my recruiter, and start looking at schools around where the guy will be stationed. I’ve thought it through a hundred times, and some of the possible ending scenarios are quite nice.

When it comes down to it, though, I’m not in love with him, and I would probably need to be in love with him—and know he were in love with me, which is also not the case—before I started arranging my life around him. I’m going to continue with my officer application. I hope that I’m commissioned, even though that will make this particular guy off limits.

This is something of a pattern in my life, choosing X over the possibility of a relationship. At BYU I chose to adhere to the honor code; later I chose to not date a certain friend until he came out and broke up with his girlfriend, which he didn’t do until after I’d moved to Seattle; I chose to move to NY to pursue my editing career instead of staying with the guy I was dating in Seattle; I moved to Japan to clean my palate instead of staying with the guy I was dating in NY. The point is that I guess I’m not in a frantic hurry to find The One, as it seems to me many people with Mormon backgrounds are.

Or I’m afraid of commitment? Or something?

To me this soldier situation seems like another entry in the pattern. Seeing if something with him might be awesome isn’t a priority now. Great as he is, there are other great guys. I still believe I can have it all, dream career and dream family.

***

The next thing is a background check. Tomorrow I’ll be plotting out every address I’ve lived at since I turned 18 (a double handful) and getting contact information for someone who knew me at each location. Plus all employers. Plus all immediate family. Then an FBI agent will talk with each of those people and make sure I’m a quality guy. They don’t kid around about this stuff.

***

This week I’ll think about Christmas. It’s that time of year, even in Japan.

Finals Have Scrambled My Brain

I

Gave

A

Fuck

Once

......

It

Was

Terrible

Autonomy Interferring WIth Me Getting Help, Again

Ever had such strong emotions about something that you can't keep them bottled up? But you can't tell anyone you know? Not that you don't want to tell anyone. You want to tell someone, but you can't bring yourself to? This is the case with me.

First, I realize this is finals week and stress is at a max. But, I know myself. I don't stress enough on my finals. I try to put pressure on myself but pretty much the only difference between me pre-finals week and finals week is zero video games and this insane desire to clean everything.

Anyways, what I want to tell people but I can't.

This blog is about breaking the silence. And I wish that I had some cool, clever username and could be completely anonymous. Instead, Dupree knows me and reads my stuff. Tif, MJ, Jo have met me in person and can put a face to me. Two friends (both names starting with E) read this blog and talk about my posts with me and each other. Jay, my ex-boyfriend of three months, reads this blog. Hell, if my mother had the mind to, she could read this blog (but doesn't normally, mainly because I think she has a hard time remembering).

Admitting my feelings, my thoughts, can be quite difficult. It is almost like I only reveal my feelings selectively rather than with complete honesty. Everything I say is completely true but not everything I want to say gets said. So, realize that admitting to anything can be difficult because I'm not completely anonymous.

So, I'm taking a bit of leap when I say this. I'm starting to have doubts about my half-asian. Not because I don't think he's wonderful. Not because of any mistakes he, or I, have made. But because I'm stressed, not able to sleep and just getting insecure about my life and future.

I'm graduating in December 2013. That is a year away. And when I graduate in 2013, I want to get away from this forsaken land. What was the one futurama quote about Utah? "Well, in those days, Mars was just a dreary wasteland... much like Utah. But unlike Utah, it was eventually made livable... in 2636." I want out of this place, and I can't drag Half-Asian around with me. He's stuck here with his mother.

And this moving thing is really grating on me. But...
- He has acknowledged this problem well before I did. And hence why he didn't want to get too close because I could be leaving soon.
- He brings this problem up often, noting that he wants me to make my own decision, uninfluenced by him.
- He assures me things don't work out no matter what the present might say, calling on his experiences with his ex boyfriend that he had for over a year. He assures me that just because things might not work out doesn't mean one of us did something wrong.

Basically, he is giving me plenty of opportunities to call quits because of my schooling, letting me know that it wouldn't be my fault. So, no pressure at all is being put on me by him. All the pressure is purely mine.

Unfortunately, I think the reason why this is so... difficult... is because I like him. Way too much. I love his facial expressions and how he thinks he's so good at lying and covering things up. I love the way we can make fun of each other, no harm done. I love how cuddle time often devolves into competitions of insults and humor and stories of our pasts. The way he uses metaphors to understand the world around him. How he sees the world as simplistic in places I see it complicated. His ways of trying to prove to me that he is my equal, almost like he doesn't believe that I do see him as more than an equal. Just, I love SOOO much about him.

But there is so much more to life. I want him. I want to leave Utah. Around Half-Asian, I would choose him any day. Not around Half-Asian, I've recently been flip-flopping. And I'm conflicted.

Maybe this is a phase. But I want advice from people. I want to tell people this so I can get outsiders opinions. But I can't bring myself to tell people my problems, probably due to my pride in remaining autonomous. So, let me hope this post will help me tell people so I can discuss this more. If my confliction is a phase, I want out of it. If it isn't... I REALLY want advice, opinions. And either way, Breaking the Silence is the best way for me to deal with my confliction.

So, here is the post.