J is for

J is for….

I’ve had many a friend in my life, many a confidante, but when it comes to me and who I am, the name Jennifer seems to stand out.  I don’t know why that is except to say that there seems to have always been a Jennifer at one point or another in my life.
There’s Jennifer W, she’s by far the most important Jennifer to me that’s not related.  She’s been ever present, albeit living down in Austin for the better part of our friendship, still she’s the one who was probably present for the better part of my life.   She is my confidante.  She knows everything about everything.  If it’s happened to me in the last…ugh…I don’t want to say how many years, but if it’s happened she knows about it.  She has an archive, literally, of everything I’ve ever written.  When I first met her, she was this beautiful, romantic, charming, witty, sweet, caring, giving soul who was ever ready to listen and to advise and through all our years as friends, she has remained this same person.  She has never changed, she has never judged, she has never faltered in her support of me no matter who I was or who I am.   I was terrified, terrified beyond description, to tell her that I was gay, but when I told her, she proved to be that stalwart friend that I knew her to be.
We have a tradition.  Anytime that she comes up to visit, we always go to Macaroni Grill for dinner and watch a movie.   We catch up on old times, she tells me about her latest beau, 9 times out of 10 he’s a singer/musician type fellow, although there has been the occasional wealthy individual and I inform her of my life, the comings and goings, the drama and etc etc etc but this last time, after my revelation, it was my most favorite visit I think that I can recall.   My heart was light at being able to point out the guys that I thought were attractive, i.e. the Banana Republic boy who she deemed ever so worthy of my complete adulation to a few other guys as well.  I was able to tell her about things that I’ve not told another soul that has happened within the last 6 months, stuff you want to yell from the rooftops but don’t for decorum’s sake.  But I told her.  We ate our Macaroni Grill and then watched Brokeback Mountain and I was completely and totally me and it was as I said, the most wonderful of experiences.  To have someone to confide in, to tell anything and everything to without fear that it would cross her lips to someone else is by far a greater gift than any I can ever imagine.  I love her dearly and completely.  She is Grace to my Will, if I were to ever have one.
Jennifer G, who if you’ve ever met her goes by another name that I’ve used on several occasions, the Talker.   Not that if I tell her something she talks it all over the world, but rather she enjoys talking.  A great deal I might add.   When I first met her, she talked incredibly too much and I daresay, I never imagined in a million years that we would be such close friends.   She is, for lack of a better word, my self proclaimed “fag hag.”   She and I, can also tell each other everything, she has been there in situations where I couldn’t imagine having to tell someone something and being able to tell her, for comfort, for peace of mind, for support.  She gets these feelings….you know what I mean, and she will call becuase she thinks something is wrong.  Chances are, something usually is and I’m forced to “spill it”   She is often times my voice of reason and her support for me is great and without fail.
It would be remiss of me not to mention Jenni too, although, what relationship we may have is to say the least tenuous.  But Jenni, like Wade, was something of a catalyst when it comes to me becoming who I am.  Not that she opened my eyes to some sort of epiphany, but rather through her I met Wade and an amalgam of others who, like myself, were gay.   She and I were good friends at the outset, but also she was somewhat enamoured with me as well.   At the time I was still in love with Melissa and Jenni’s feelings for me were, to say the least, more of a stumbling block to a strong friendship than a foundation.   There was also a strong vortex of friendships and alliances that lent itself to the creation of barriers and trust issues for everyone involved, myself included.  While at times we may have had a bond that was strong, as of late, that bond is negligible, through both our actions.   Our relationship has been extremely volatile for various reasons and at the moment it hardly resembles anything close to a friendship. 
Anyway, that’s J…..jennifer…

I is for (yeah, so I cheated, but it fits me to a “T”

 

 is for

Portrait of an INFP –

Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving
(Introverted Feeling with Extraverted Intuition)  

---

The Idealist

 

As an INFP, your primary mode of living is focused internally, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit into your personal value system. Your secondary mode is external, where you take things in primarily via your intuition.INFPs, more than other iNtuitive Feeling types, are focused on making the world a better place for people. Their primary goal is to find out their meaning in life. What is their purpose? How can they best serve humanity in their lives? They are idealists and perfectionists, who drive themselves hard in their quest for achieving the goals they have identified for themselvesINFPs are highly intuitive about people. They rely heavily on their intuitions to guide them, and use their discoveries to constantly search for value in life. They are on a continuous mission to find the truth and meaning underlying things. Every encounter and every piece of knowledge gained gets sifted through the INFP’s value system, and is evaluated to see if it has any potential to help the INFP define or refine their own path in life. The goal at the end of the path is always the same – the INFP is driven to help people and make the world a better place.

Generally thoughtful and considerate, INFPs are good listeners and put people at ease. Although they may be reserved in expressing emotion, they have a very deep well of caring and are genuinely interested in understanding people. This sincerity is sensed by others, making the INFP a valued friend and confidante. An INFP can be quite warm with people he or she knows well.

INFPs do not like conflict, and go to great lengths to avoid it. If they must face it, they will always approach it from the perspective of their feelings. In conflict situations, INFPs place little importance on who is right and who is wrong. They focus on the way that the conflict makes them feel, and indeed don’t really care whether or not they’re right. They don’t want to feel badly. This trait sometimes makes them appear irrational and illogical in conflict situations. On the other hand, INFPs make very good mediators, and are typically good at solving other people’s conflicts, because they intuitively understand people’s perspectives and feelings, and genuinely want to help them.

INFPs are flexible and laid-back, until one of their values is violated. In the face of their value system being threatened, INFPs can become aggressive defenders, fighting passionately for their cause. When an INFP has adopted a project or job which they’re interested in, it usually becomes a “cause” for them. Although they are not detail-oriented individuals, they will cover every possible detail with determination and vigor when working for their “cause”.

When it comes to the mundane details of life maintenance, INFPs are typically completely unaware of such things. They might go for long periods without noticing a stain on the carpet, but carefully and meticulously brush a speck of dust off of their project booklet.

INFPs do not like to deal with hard facts and logic. Their focus on their feelings and the Human Condition makes it difficult for them to deal with impersonal judgment. They don’t understand or believe in the validity of impersonal judgment, which makes them naturally rather ineffective at using it. Most INFPs will avoid impersonal analysis, although some have developed this ability and are able to be quite logical. Under stress, it’s not uncommon for INFPs to mis-use hard logic in the heat of anger, throwing out fact after (often inaccurate) fact in an emotional outburst.

INFPs have very high standards and are perfectionists. Consequently, they are usually hard on themselves, and don’t give themselves enough credit. INFPs may have problems working on a project in a group, because their standards are likely to be higher than other members’ of the group. In group situations, they may have a “control” problem. The INFP needs to work on balancing their high ideals with the requirements of every day living. Without resolving this conflict, they will never be happy with themselves, and they may become confused and paralyzed about what to do with their lives.

INFPs are usually talented writers. They may be awkard and uncomfortable with expressing themselves verbally, but have a wonderful ability to define and express what they’re feeling on paper. INFPs also appear frequently in social service professions, such as counselling or teaching. They are at their best in situations where they’re working towards the public good, and in which they don’t need to use hard logic.

INFPs who function in their well-developed sides can accomplish great and wonderful things, which they will rarely give themselves credit for. Some of the great, humanistic catalysts in the world have been INFPs.

Jungian functional preference ordering:

Dominant: Introverted Feeling
Auxiliary: Extraverted Intuition
Tertiary: Introverted Sensing
Inferior: Extraverted Thinking
If you want to take a personality test to see what you are psychologically you can go here:  https://www.personalitypage.com/indicate.html

 

 

H is for

Happiness

It’s funny, as little kids we imagine what our life is going to be, what we are going to do with our lives, who we are going to be.   We carry these ideal notions of what success and happiness and everything else.  We think we know who we are and what we are going to be.   I remember when I was little I was going to be the President of the Unted States.  I was going to be a lawyer.  I was going to be a fireman.  I was going to be…..  I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.  But truth be told I don’t know anyone who is what they were going to be.   Looking back, you can’t help but wonder what that bright eyed hopeful child would think of his life now and would he have thought that the life I now have would be a life that would be something that he would consider happy.   I have to say I never imagined then, hell I never imagine 5 years ago, that my life would be what it is today.  5 years ago, I was in the closet.  I was pretty much in love with a woman who was unhappily married to a man who she is still with.  5  years before that, I had no notion whatsoever that I was gay.   It seems hard to believe that part. As much as I loved her then, 5 years before, I loved her even more.   I thought she was the one.  I had notions that we would be together for the rest of our lives, living an ideally romantic life together.

And in every one of these time frames, be it the present or 5 yars ago or 5 before that, the one thing that I know, or at least think I know, is that I was happy.   Content with the state of my heart.   Granted there was a greal deal of crap mixed in, but that is often the case.   A life that is just happy go lucky without the pitfalls and the drama and the ups and downs of relationships would seem somewhat lackluster.  Not that being blissfully happy would be a bad thing, hell I’d jump on that in a heartbeat, but I don’t know anyone who is blissfully happy.   I know absolutely positively 100 percent of everyone I know, none of them are blissfully happy.   I don’t think it’s a natural human condition.  I think it’s a continuous ongoing contiguous morphing state of being and mind.   Because you can be happy with certain areas of your life and find yourself somewhat dejected about another area.  

 This is the human condition.     We want.  We want more.  We want better.   We want happier.  We want.  And the thing of it is, is that who wants to get to a point where we have all that we’ve ever wanted.   How do you live after that.  What does life become afterwards.  What do you strive for after that.  The notion of sitting back on your laurels loses something.   It’s funny how everybody wants to be the greatest, so what do you do after you’re the greatest?   Is it about being happy?   The human condition of wanting more seems almost inate.  Insatiable.   Nobody ever dreams about being the city councilman, no it’s the president.   Nobody ever dreams about being a bench warmer, no it’s Michael Jordan.  Nobody ever dreams about having just enough money to get by on, no it’s RICH.   Nobody ever wants Ms/Mr mediocrity…no we want beauty, wit, charm etc.   We want.   And who among you doesn’t say, “Sure, I’d be happy with this or that, but on the inside, you’re still thinking about that Nike shoe contract while you’re tooling around in the Hummer with Miss USA….we want.   It’s unconscious…lol….it’s the American Way.  If you don’t want, people think you’re either lying or there’s something terribly wrong with you.   And yes, this is all oversimplification, because while we may all want all those things or what those things represent…to each and everyone of us, those things are different.   Beauty is in the eye….how rich is rich….how successful is success….

SO does achieving what we want make us happy?  And if we always want more, will we ever be happy?

So where does Happiness come in.   Because trying to keep up with the jones’ isn’t happiness.   It’s want.  I think the only thing that we can truly be happy with is our state of being.   Everything else is irrelevant.   It’s intangible, here one minute, gone the next.   But the self, you are with you, every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year of every decade of your life.   That is a lot of one on one time, don’t you think.   And just imagine, if you’re not happy with yourself.   Everything else is pretty much meaningless.   What drudgery it must be to look in the mirror everyday.

I respect myself.  I love me.  I love who I am, what I know, what I think, how I feel, how I’m perceived by most people.   I don’t think I wish to be anybody else.  Because even though I don’t have all the stuff, I want it of course, but this is different.   I don’t want to be anyone different.   I’m happy with who I am.   Oh there are things I would change, and have changed in the last couple of years.   For the better I’d like to think.   I’m a work in progress and I have to say, it’s been a great progress, slow and tedious at times, sometimes a bit painful and difficult, but it is work after all, there’s a reason for that name.  But Happy, yes.   Perfectly, no.   But happy, thank God, yes.

Wow, this entry is peculiar.

G is for

Grin and bare it, or is it bear it….more than likely it’s the latter and not the former, I’m not much for baring it all, except in this particular case, so I’ll let you decide, if there is a you out there reading.   If there’s writing and nobody reading, is there something really being said?  Yes I know who needs to read a if a tree falls in the forest and nobody sees it, does it make a sound analogy, but I seem to be running with the notion, don’t I.   See I’m even writing as if I know I have an audience., if that’s what one might call it.

Anyway, I was thinking about this yesterday, the end of 2005…the year as a whole pretty much was a bit on the lackluster, downright dingy if you must know…Oh I will grant you there were highlights….one particular one comes to mind that I’d love to expound on, but in the event that I do ever have an audience familiar to me, well, such expounding wouldn’t be time well spent, so I shall relish it in my own mind.   But yes, highlights indeed.  But overall, 2005 was mired down with the mundane and the ordinary, the monotony of everyday existence….and I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad if, the monotony and the ordinary weren’t drama filled escapades …which seems to be antithetical to what I’m saying, but I’m going somewhere with this, believe me…

See, you get to the point, eventually, where you don’t care anymore.   I mean sure, there is that innate caring that you have, that we all have, at least I hope we all do, that basic concern for others and then there’s that other more invested caring that we develop with intimacy and friendship.  That care, the one we hold so closely and so deeply, that we nourished and grow, if left to it’s own devices should either continue to flourish or wilt and die away.   It’s the way of things.  And while we never expect, or I should say I never expect it, when it does wither and die, I never expected to be without remorse.   Or maybe I’m just kidding myself and somewhere deeper on a subconscious level there is a touch of it.  I know there is regret.  

And you’re probably wondering what the hell I’m talking about, where I’m going with this particular entry and I have to say I’ve got the least bit of control at this writing. 

this was suppose to be grin and bear it….we’ve been through that….and I sneak down this little passage way about the end of a friendship…and it is the end, because I could care less if it’s ever revived…grin and bare it….

2005 was a year of grin and bear it.  I’m a happy go lucky person for the most part so the grin seems rather fixed, but like most grins, it was at times a mere facade.  I’m too peaceable, too let the go, too amiable, too  I don’t care.   And I guess, when I don’t care, then it’s fine, but when I do…. when I do and I have this fixed grin on my face, I guess nobody really knows what’s going on inside.  Not that most people really care what’s going on inside.   That’s a reality.   It’s a sad reality, but a reality all the same.   No matter how much concern people express, we’re all egocentrists.   We have to be, it’s self preservation.   It’s so much easier to build up those walls and then from the turrets make those sympathetic noises that everyone expects to here.   I’m as guilty of it as anyone.   Hell I spent most of my life building up those walls, I think I even dug a moat or two, aligators and crocodiles to boot.   It’s easier to keep people out, to keep from getting hurt.   I mean these are the things you hear you don’t go up to them, they come up to you, you don’t call them first, they call you, you don’t tell them you like them, they tell you.   And then when things don’t happen this is what you hear.  Well, you know all you had to do was call them.   How come you didn’t go up to them and say something.    how are they going to know if you like then if you don’t tell them?   And all you can do afterwards, because it does no good to tell them what they said eariler, all you can do is grin and bear it.

It’s 2006.   New year, new you.  I don’t know if it really works that way, day 3 of the new year and while I’ve got the whole mental process going up inside about so many different things, I don’t feel all that new.   I feel pretty much the same, I just have a little bit more determination, a little bit more resolve, a little bit more desire to have a life that I want to be living.  It’s easy to set forth all these new years resolutions and goals, but if you don’t have that big picture mentality, what are the goals a resolutions for, because this year is leading to next year and the next.  SO it shouldn’t be like, in 2006 I want to do this, but rather This is where I want to be going in my life.   Maybe I’m just looking at it this way because I’m older than pretty much everyone else around me.  Or maybe I’m a bit more content with where I am at and the short range goal notion I don’t consider worth thinking about on the whole.    I mean I do have ideas about the year, about what I want to be able to do and achieve.  But come the end of 2006 I don’t want to have to grin and bear it, shrugging my shoulders or whatever because I didn’t achieve something.   Because truth be told, last year, the big grin and bear it year, it’s over and done with.   Let bygones be bygones.   I hear an Auld Lang Syne moment coming up….or that other song….with every season turn turn turn…..I don’t know the title of the song….or who sings it…..sorry, I’m musically illiterate….I do remember they used it for a Time magazine commercial a long  time ago…..anyway.  

I don’t know if this entry had any relevancy….there were a lot of things I wanted to say that seemed to have slipped away, things that seemed antithetical to the whole letting go and forgetting…..

G is for….

GOODBYE….hmmm, how that worked out I don’t know.   But as new years aptly illustrated, Derek and I aren’t friends anymore.   I don’t think I was expecting any sort of reconciliation so a simple goodbye seems fitting.

Anybody else who feels that the person I am is in some way becoming a barrier to the relationships that we have or don’t have feel the need to slip away, this would be the time to do it.   It’s a new year after all, let old acquaintances be forgot….(there’s that auld lang syne moment)   None of us have time for all the petty crap.  New year, new goals, new things, new people….if you want out, I think the doors still open.  I’m not going to go back to the old me. 

F is for….

F is for Friends and Family.
Makes sense.One you choose to live with, the other you live with through no choice of your own.  Kinda like that big F over there…..one’s the family on the inside, one’s your friends, but they, your friends can feel more like family too.
Family….it’s funny when you think about it, it’s a group of people who through no fault of your own, you’re attached to your entire life.Most times they’re people that you don’t really have any connection to other than your genetic makeup.At least that seems to be the case with me and my family.I have three brothers, an older brother, a twin brother and a younger brother.They all have red hair, and none of them are like me in the least.My twin brother and my younger brother look the most alike, though they’re not really that similar now.Used to my little brother looked just like my twin.It was kinda freaky.My father….hmmm.I look like him, for the most part, at least I got his blue eyes and brown hair.He’s quiet, very reserved, or so that’s how he comes across.He’s very introverted.I get that from him too.The rest of my brothers take after my mother.At least physical appearance-wise.I was always odd man out where that was concerned but I’d much rather be blue eyed and dark haired,I guess.It’s funny growing up, I always thought about having my own family, I thought about what my kids were going to be like, what I was going to name them and all the rest.I had this girlfriend, if that’s what you want to call her, Her name was Ann Marie Kingston.There was this walkway bridge over the freeway where we lived and we would go there and sit and talk about what we were going to name our kids and so forth like that.Granted we were only in the 4^th grade but still, I was looking ahead, making plans.lol Of course, I should have known then that I was different from everybody else.Not that you’re supposed to be all about sex in the 4^th grade, but I remember one time, my twin and I were with her, and kissing came up and so I went in the bathroom and kissed her, and I still don’t remember what it felt like or anything even thinking about it right now.And then my brother went into the bathroom with her and I guess kissing wasn’t exactly on his mind, he wanted to see her naked.My brother is the evil twin by the way.He claims he kissed her too, though not on the lips….I’ll just leave the rest to your imagination.Needless to say she didn’t stay my girlfriend.LOL.I don’t know.I’m not like any of them, never have been.Night and day.And I get to be day.My mother always preferred my oldest and youngest brother.My twin being the evil twin that he was, was always a trouble maker, always doing things he shouldn’t have been doing.So whenever he got into trouble, I seemed to get lumped into it, merely because I was his twin.Plus being the middle child, especially a middle child where you had to share the position with another darker half, middle child syndrome all the way.
Friends on the other hand.I never really had that many friends, at least not growing up.I really didn’t try that hard to form attachments, for the reason that every year we moved to another place since my father was in the military.It wasn’t until high school, when my dad retired and joined the sheriff’s department that I seemed to have a concrete place to land.And by then I had a whole lifetime of living a completely different way that it was all new to me.Again, my brothers didn’t seem to have that problem at all.Whenever I made new friends, I had in the back of my mind the notion that they already had friends, friends that they’d had all their life, and I was like dropped in from out of the blue.It wasn’t the most wonderful of feelings, leaving me wishing that I had grown up in one place all my life and that I had that confidant and best friend that I could tell anything to, share anything with.Ican’t say that I’m completely over that whole feeling.
In the sixth grade, my twin and I became friends with another set of twins.Danny and Donny.They were more like us that I knew at the time of our first acquaintance.We moved after the 6^th grade but then we moved back to the area in the 9^th grade and our friendship started back up again.Danny was James’ best friend and Donny was mine.We were a lot alike, he and I, just as Danny and James were as well.All through high school we were friends.Donny was very unique and eccentric.He was an artist, an extremely good artist who would have probably been famous.But he committed suicide shortly after high school.He was gay and his family wasn’t exactly the uhm….what….I don’t know, they didn’t accept it.I suppose.This is all just conjecture on my part, but that was how I understood things.At the time, I was so far in the back of the closet I didn’t know it was a closet I was in.I didn’t think I was gay, though I do remember finding guys very distracting.JBut I would never have ever said anything about it.This was 20 years ago or more and he was the only gay person I knew, and he wasn’t out in high school, though he was “suspect”Still, I can’t help but wonder what made him do what he did.How alone he felt.The thing of it was, he was the life of the party.Everyone loved Donny.He was a character, extroverted and funny and charming and on the inside he was apparently so unhappy.It bothers me to think about the fact that even though I didn’t know it at the time that I was gay and that he was gay, that we were or at least would be going through the same things.I don’t know.Thinking about it.I remember this one time, Danny and my brother had gone out drinking and all this stuff and came back and James was just sloshed off his ass and he grabbed Donny and kissed him really hard….and just remembering, I remember how I was repulsed by the whole idea.Because that was “gay.”Silly to think about it now.It wasn’t a gay kiss, my brother was drunk and still he just kissed him.For the longest time I was so turned off by the whole notion of guys kissing.Really.I remember watching In and Out and when Tom Sellick and ….oh…what’s his name….when they kiss it just sent creepy shivers down my spine.That tells you the depths of my denial…..And I seem to have gotten off track with the F entry….ha
My Friends now though, enough of memory lane, except to say that Kevin, who I had a crush on, I can admit that freely now, it wasn’t the whole Derek crush that I had, because really just wanted to be friends with Kevin, but I thought he was cute.He was straight to so that made it a bit easier.
Anyway…..my friends now, are nothing like the friends I made when I was younger.The majority of them are gay or female….I’m having dinner with one of my oldest friends tonight…mmmm….Macaroni Grill and a movie.It’s a standing date she and I have.
And then there’s Melissa, who we were once madly in love with each other….thats like how deep the denial was really buried, and the thing of it was I really truly did love her
….my friend Carolyn who used to be in love with me.
My other friend Jennifer, who when I first met referred to her as the talker, she likes to talk, that Jennifer….and then there’s Jenni who I think had I not met her, I would not have remet Wade who practically pried me out of the closet.
And Derek, who I fell madly, obsessively, completely head over heels in love with.Just goes to show what love is worth sometimes.Apparently I didn’t make the cut as a friend of his, when funnily enough, when it came to friendship,I thought I did a great deal in that area.But then I remember this scene from ….oh what is it….Everwood….where Ephram is talking to Amy and he’s just come back from his trip to Europe and he wants to go back to being friends with Amy and she says, we can’t go back and he asks her why and she says we were never friends and I think about that and I think how true that was.I wanted so much to be friends with Derek, but at the same time I was in love with him.I don’t know which it was more.Still.I would have done anything for him and thought that I had been a good friend to him.But all of that is clouded by the extra emotional feeling that I felt for him as well.So I don’t know if we were friends.So maybe I didn’t need to make the cut.It’s hard to say.
Wade and I are friends, sometimes against a lot of peoples better judgment.But I think because of Wade, I am who I am, I’ve come so far into who I am.I think everyone who knows Wade is so ready to jump to his flaws and show them to the world.I’m probably as guilty of that as anyone….well not anyone, but anyone who truly knows Wade also knows what a good person he can be, how selfless he can be, how generous he can be.We’ve had our issues with one another, we’ve had our run ins and lol….we’ve even messed around on occasion.It’s funny we are always telling each other we don’t like each other.And a lot of times that’s true.We don’t trust each other, but the thing about friendship is, that no matter what, we’re still friends.No matter how difficult it is and it can be difficult….still we are friends.There’s a thing about friendships, you take the good with the bad, because you pretty much know them both by the time you become friends.
Then there’s Zach.I’d like to call him my friend, but the thing of it is, is that I like Zach.I don’t think Zach likes me.At least that’s how he acts.So am I just going around in circles again a la Derek?Is the friendship just based on the other feelings that I have for him?Fortunately, I’ve been through the whole Derek thing, so I can take it wit ha grain of salt, knowing full well that the outcome could be something along the likes of me not “making the cut.”Hell he’s already taken me off his myspace friends list.So yeah, a grain of salt.

E is for

E is for Education.I know that seems like a pretty dull thing for E, but still I have a thing for it.It makes us who we are.Truly.If you don’t educate yourself, then you remain ignorant to so much out there.It opens the eyes and the mind and the heart to the truths and realities of the world.Not just those things that you know, because 9 times out of 10 you don’t really know it anyway.You learn about yourself, you learn about others, you just learn.Again, I know, what a dully entry, but still.And I’m not talking about those halls of learn that we are ever so familiar with, although they are wonderful resources for learning, naturally, but educating yourself about life, by whatever means or fashion, that is important.Some people don’t do the whole school thing.It bores them, which at times can be understandable.Take me and math for instance.I’ve a notion that numbers in general just don’t like me.I don’t know what it is, they just do.I don’t think there is anything that I can learn that will ever make math and all it’s wonderful progressive states, i.e., algebra, trigonometry, etc. any more interesting than the basic mathematics that I forced myself through when I had to.And I have to say, that on occasion, while straighten the reference section at work, I don’t ponder opening a book on those higher mathematic courses, if for the very reason to educate myself to whatever possibilities they might open to me.But the urge, the desire, just isn’t strong enough.
Give me those liberal learning course, psychology, languages, history, writing.Those make me a happy camper.Education makes the musician a better musician, an artist a better artist, a writer a better author.NO matter how great your innate skill, there’s always room for improvement.Psychology, you don’t just learn about yourself, but about the inner workings of the mind which gives you a clue into everyone’s behavior.Languages to communicate, not only better in your own language but with everyone else.Those who think that everyone should just speak English are ignorant to the truth that English is a mutt language.History….that shows us the wrongs of the past so that we don’t repeat it.
I remember when I was in the 2^nd grade, I was allowed to participate in the 6^th grade spelling contest.I didn’t win, which still irritates me to this day, but the idea of it, the notion that I was good enough to take part in it, it just made me feel different, special, better, whether I was or not.
I’ve wanted to be a teacher for the better part of my life.Since about the 6^th grade and I won’t even say how long ago that was.I’ve wanted to do other things, but I’ve always wanted to teach, to make a difference as the case may be.We won’t go into why I’m not teaching.Aside from the whole finding myself, which I didn’t do for the longest time.And I’ve been pondering a great deal recently about psychology and counseling.Lord knows I have plenty of credits in the field as well.I think I have this whole fear of succeeding too , that prevents me from doing anything.I need to get over that.Like soon!
Anyway….I surround myself with books, many of which I haven’t read.I can look to my left and see about a hundred books I’ve bought over the last couple of years that I have yet to read.It’s sad really.But I can’t but get them, hoping that one day, whatever is keeping me from being who I am supposed to be will be gone.I think 2006 is going to be that time.Finally.A bit late, I realize, but I don’t know, it’s never to late to be who you are, who you want to be.It’s easier to stay in that groove, that rut that you let yourself get into.It’s much more harder to strive, to achieve those things that you so wish for.Only because the notion of failure, like the notion of success is a bit more frightening that it should be.As the saying goes, if at first you don’t succeed, try try try again.So I’ll just take those words to heart.
This entry seems a bit lacking…..I’ve been pondering E for a while and finally though that education was going to be it.It seems to be a bit of everything, but that’s what education is.Everything, acknowledging it, grasping hold of it, living it, learning it.

D is for

D is for. D is the first guy that I fell in love with. Granted I denied it to myself, hell I think I denied it to everyone, who either asked or inferred or implied that I felt anything more for him than friendship. If you had read the blog I kept concerning my overwhelming infatuation, you’d know I really had it bad. I was not myself. Not in the sense that I wasn’t me, but rather, I felt like I was more than who I was when I was with him. He never felt the same way about me but when I was with him I was ecstatic, I was enamoured, I was blinded, I was overwhelmed and incapacitated. I was exhilaratingly alive and in tremendous agony. I couldn’t look at him without feeling all those proverbial emotions, without feeling that sensation, so indescribable, so blissful and scary all at once. I remember the first time I saw him, I had been over at the store and I saw him. He was across the store on the other side of the counter and I was pretty much instantly smitten. It was the first day I worked with him. I had a sudden wash of preconceived notion come over me. And the more I saw him the more notions filled my head. This was before I knew him of course, before I said anything to him. I didn’t know he was gay when I first met him. I remember how much I wanted to be his friend. How much I wanted to know him. It’s scary how much control he took over my thoughts and internal dialogue. I guess I was obsessed, to put it as bluntly as I possibly can. I was enamoured, infatuated, obsessed…what other synonyms are there that I can look back in hindsight and call it. At the time, ….at the time, I was in love. Sometimes I wish I still was. It was better feeling that way towards him, than now, when we don’t talk because he thinks I’ve become something I’m not, that I act like I’m more superior, which I don’t and am not. It’s the saddest thing in the world to regret that you loved someone. Even if they didn’t love you back. Because the way I felt, the way he made me feel, that overwhelming unstoppable incapacitating emotional storm, it was amazing. How his smile made me smile even bigger. I can’t put into words everything…..though if you really really want to know, you can always go here When I Fell and get the proverbial minute by minute, in the moment, my personal experience. It’s a bit long and convoluted and truly illustrates just how neurotic I really was about him. I miss so much how that felt. And the sad thing is, that if the situation presented itself today; which now that I think about it, is something similarly close, I’d much rather just say goodbye and walk away than to go through it again. Someone said something once about relationships, that there’s always one person who feels more for the other. And I guess that’s true. That goes with any relationship really. Be it love or friendship. And I think what it all boils down to is how much you’re willing to let go of yourself, give of yourself. We all put barriers up around us, those who have been hurt, have bigger barriers and walls and push and struggle more to keep people out than let them in. Anyway…It’s hard, I know I struggle with it. Sometimes it’s not worth the struggle, even if your heart tells you. Because the heart wants what it wants, to love and be loved. I don’t want to wax poetic. And I have all these thoughts and emotions going through my head right now. Living in love with someone is….well it feeds the heart, it’s only when they love you back that the body and soul are fed as well. Okay…now that I’ve put myself in such a wonderful frame of mind, I’m hungry. Rhetorically and physically.

C is for

C is for Christian…..I was having some difficulty coming up with a C word that would give a full picture of who I am. And seeing as being a Christian has been something that has been a part of my life longer than almost anything else, Christian seemed a rather apt choice.
 I don’t remember the moment when I came out of the Closet (which is another wonderful C word, seeing as how I was in it for such a long time.) But I do remember when I was saved. And it sounds so corny to put it that way, “saved”, but still back then that was what if was to me. I remember I was at my grandmother’s house and I remember kneeling at the couch, it was this soft white couch, the kind grandmother’s are prone to have, elegant and simple, very tasteful, the kind of couch you didn’t rest your feet on even if you didn’t have shoes on, the whole room was really, lamps that let off just the right amount of light, knick knacks on the end tables, a little crystal jar of butterscotch candies or those soft mints. But when I think about my grandparents, the first thing that comes to mind is their faith, they were hardcore southern Baptists.
…but anyways, where was I, I remember, kneeling there and saying with all earnestness, at least all the earnestness that a 10 year old could have that I wanted to be saved, that I believed in Jesus, you know the whole spiel. I don’t know if I felt different or anything afterwards, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. I said it was funny saying I remember when I was saved as if I was doomed to fire and brimstone at the age of 10.
The truth of the matter is, I’ve lots of questions concerning my faith, questions that I’ve never really thought about until the last couple of years. Questions about being gay and Christian and republican no less. Talk about screwed up. Over the years, it hasn’t been the church that has given me any strength to be who I am, but rather my own personal walk with Him. I don’t know who God is, I can just interpret to myself who I think God is, which essentially is just what everyone is doing. I don’t know what God thinks, I don’t know what God knows. I barely know what I know. Still, I talk to Him constantly. I question a great deal of what I’ve learned, especially since coming out.
I was talking to a friend today and he was telling me how I was going to hell and I told him I wasn’t going to hell and he asked if that was why I haven’t had sex with a guy yet, and I told him no, that that wasn’t why I haven’t had sex with a guy yet. Personally, if God takes offense to having guys having sex with each other, I don’t think he’d make much difference between that and anything else that you do with a guy, i.e. kissing etc. Admittedly, one of the main reasons I hadn’t come out until recently was because I wasn’t comfortable with the idea that I was gay. If I didn’t admit it, that meant it wasn’t true, which also meant that I was a good Christian. But the truth of the matter, I still consider myself a good Christian at least as good as any other Christian that I know.
 I’ve said this before and I’ll more than likely say it again, that when I was saved, I wasn’t saved for everything I did up to the age of ten but rather my whole life was cleansed of any sin that might taint my life. God knew before I was born, what I would do, both the good and the bad and everything in between. Nothing escaped his notice when He saved me from my own humanity. The Bible teaches us that we are ALL condemned to hell and that the only salvation is our acceptance of him as our savior. Nothing else is a prerequisite. Not living a “good” life. Not getting married and having lots of babies and having a house in the ‘burbs. First off, I don’t think being Gay is a sin. Homosexuality, or rather the act of having sex with someone of the same sex may be a sin the same way that sex before marriage is a sin, lying is a sin or any other sin is a sin. God doesn’t weigh sin and tell you that this particular sin will keep you from heaven. All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.
 I remember my grandparents used to speak of something like a reward system and crowns and jewels and all this other stuff that you get when you get into heaven and at age ten I was thinking wow, that’s got to be the coolest thing. Now I’m thinking, certainly heaven is a little bit more than wearing these crowns and thinking, oh look the Jones’ have three jewels in their crown while I only have two. And what good would worldly wealth and crown do you in heaven. I have issue with those men of the cloth, those Godly men who take “his” word and then use it to their own ends. Okay, I think I’m going a bit farther afield in this topic than I need to be.
 SO I’ll just leave it at this. I am a Christian and as a Christian, I know I have sinned. I know I am a sinner. I know that I am saved. I know that I am not going to hell because I am gay. I know I am not going to hell period. I know that anyone who says I am, is lying. And I know that if I am going to hell, then that liar, in all his self righteousness, will be right there with me and you know that kinda seems right. God doesn’t make mistakes. Because God is perfect, omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent. And since God is perfect, which infers that when I was saved for whatever sins I may have or will have committed, then I, no matter what any man says about me, it doesn’t matter, because in the end God has claimed me as one of his own or rather more accurately, I have acknowledged Him for who He is and that acknowledgement is my proverbial trump card. Because that earnest ten year old and this slightly older version of him still believe the same thing, who He is and what He did for me and for everyone else. And of all things in this world, that is the key, everything else is superfluous nonsense.

B is for

B is for…..see it was a toss up here between BOYS and Books…..I’ve loved books for a lot longer than I’ve loved boys.A lot longer.Not that I’m this geeky book nerd, though I do have my moments, but still I do love a good book.And unlike a good boy….I won’t even finish that sentence…oh hell why not, unlike a good boy, a good book always has a good ending.I’m a little hard pressed to even think of a good boy.Pretty boys certainly.  Funny, witty, intelligent, self confident boys a plenty, but all that doesn’t necessarily make a good boy, now does it?I’d have to say no.I’m not saying that he’s not out there, he most assuredly is, I just haven’t found him yet.But I shall remain on the lookout.Good books; lots and lots of those.Ask me about a good book and I can make a list in a matter of moment, a list of good boys, now that, I’d have to think on for quite some time.
The first book I ever read, on my own volition would have to be Different Seasons, a collection of four short novellas by Stephen King.The movie Stand By Me was based on the short novella, The Body.I remember watching that movie and thinking I need to read that book.So I head to the local Waldenbooks and find it and the rest as they say is history.From there I wanted to write and craved reading with a passion that goes beyond description.Before that, my notion of reading was the stuff you had to read in high school.I’ve never been a big fan of “literature” and so you can imagine my desire to read from that.But reading that book, it also has the novellas for Apt Pupil and Shawshank Redemption in there as well.Now I read voraciously, and if I’m not reading voraciously, I go through periods where I can’t even pick up a book, but when I do, I can read a book a day.
The first boy I ever….uhm….well the first boy I knew I was attracted to was a friend of mine named Kevin.I didn’t fall for him or anything like that, but there was some major attraction going on.Course at the same time I was in complete denial and saw the attraction as something a lot less than what it was.And I can only say this in hindsight, because as I say, I was in denial.
The first boy I thought I fell in love with, that was, oh my gosh, an eye opening experience.It took at least almost two years before I admitted it to anyone, but still it was there and fairly obvious from what I’ve been told.But still I didn’t admit it for awhile.I had a secret online diary that concerned just that.And reading it now, it’s such a tawdry little thing that almost makes me cringe, it was so, saccharine and ideal in my view of what I was feeling and thinking at the time.I still can’t be in the same room with him without feeling something.He’s charming and charismatic and beautiful, so it’s hard not to look at him and think everything that I thought before.It’s a lot easier to not feel what I felt before, knowing that he didn’t like me in the same way at all.At least knowing it now makes it easier.Knowing it earlier on, not so much easier.I mean he was my best friend and I was in love with him and the two kind of got intermingled into one overpowering, some might say blinding emotion.I’m sure some of you know what that might be like.
The first boy I ever messed around with was this little gymnast who I had a terrible crush on, but as the case was, I was still very insecure as I had pretty much just came out.And I wasn’t willing to go the whole 9 yards on our first “date,” as it were.Not that I didn’t have fun, cuz oh my goodness it was fun, but still he wanted to do a lot more than I felt comfortable doing.After some serious internal debate, I invited him over to watch a movie,I lit some candles, picked out a few movies, probably paced about the apartment until he got there.We started the movie, got very very comfortable on the couch, did a lot of kissing and groping and wrestling and then there was lotion and massaging and more kissing and more wrestling a little bit of biting, lol….I don’t think he was expecting that….and the first part of the movie ended and then he wanted to keep progressing, as it were.I didn’t, well, that’s not completely true, I did, but like I said it was the whole “first date” notion and I wasn’t going to do much more than that.I even told him long before he came over.Alas, he didn’t take it too well and so he was off and away. So for my first “gay experience” other than going out to Village (now known as S4) I pretty much enjoyed myself.I’m just too old fashioned, I guess.
Other B words

• Broadway…..I used to think the theatre was for “gay” people.LOL.Who’d have thought I was gay….anyway….Les Miserables, Rent, Chicago, Mamma Mia, Miss Saigon, Wicked, 42^nd Street, Evita,Ragtime, Phatom of the Opera…..hmmm, I know I’ve seen more, but damn I like me some good theatre.Maybe it was the theatre that turned me gay….no, it was the Boys.J
• Brothers….I have three….One older, his name is Benjamin….one younger, his name is Timothy and I even have a twin, his name is James.He’s nothing like me. He joined the military so that he could kill people.True story.Being a good listener, being a pacifist, being an all around good person, I’m each of theirs’ favorite brother.I’m the odd one out, they all have red hair, they all joined the military,
• Bland….I don’t like this word.Aside from the whole negative connotation that it has going with it, it even sounds mundane and boring.I don’t really live an exciting life, to my own regret at times.So some might say I’m a bit bland.Fortunately, with a little spice, bland oftentimes turns out much better.
• Bibliophile….yeah, I like that word much better though some might think it goes hand in hand with bland….because its someone who loves books.And a lot of people, I’ve noticed, don’t like to read.Oh how I hate when people walk by the bookstore and I hear them say something like I don’t read, and you can tell they say it because it’s like the worst thing in the world they’d be caught doing.Which I suppose when I was their age, I didn’t read either.So I understand it, I just want to run up to them and ram a book in their hands.God Bless Harry Potter for making a lot of readers out there.
• Beauty….oh but I do like beauty.Of course I think that can be said for everyone, but I can appreciate it.Because things can be beautiful.Feelings, words, thoughts, guys, girls, the sky, the Alps, the ocean, the glistening frost from a morning dew.I can see why girls are beautiful and understand it.I can see why guys are beautiful and understand it.Words, either written or spoken can be overwhelmingly beautiful, nature is majestically so…I just love beauty.
• Britain….now talk about beautiful.I’ve been twice am going again next year, hopefully around march…(want to go with)They’ve got everything. Beautiful nature, beautiful boys, beautiful words….have you heard them speak….*sighs dreamily.*hehe
• Brain….that’s the name of one of my cats.He’s white and he used to have a little black smudge of furr on his head but it’s gone now.He was named after Pinky & the Brain.We had a pinky too, but she found a home elsewhere.My other cat is named Gris….spanish for gray….I bet you can’t guess what color he is.
• Bitch….a friend….I guess you could call him that, pointed this particular word out to me.  It completely skipped my mind which is kinda shocking, because oh my lord at times I’m completely surrounded by bitches.   And it’s been told that I can be a bitch too.  Though in comparison, it’s not obvious at all.   But yeah gay guys can be such bitches.

 

And so it begins…..again

This is my first entry in my “alphabiography” where I take the letters of the alphabet and write a biographical entry. I got the idea from James Howe’s book. Totally Joe. It’s a young adult book about a gay kid who is writing an alphabiography for one of his teachers as an assignment. I thought it was a cool idea, so I though hmmm. I can do that. So I am.
A is for Andrew. Kinda makes sense to start out that way, although it may seem a bit egocentric, but, hey it’s my blog, right? What’s more egocentric than a personal blog. It’s supposed to be all about me. So yeah, A is for Andrew
. I guess what it all boils down to is that I am who I am. Simply an Amalgam of all that I’ve been through, my thoughts, my feelings, my view of the world, my understandings, my shortcomings, my flaws, my childhood, my adulthood, my family, my friends; all of it made me who I am and who I will be. It’s all me and had any of it been different, I would have been different. At least in certain ways. I would be hard pressed to describe me in so many words because each and everyone of us are made up of so many different facets of our own lives. We are all the best that is around us and all the worst, we take something from everything. Okay this went a little far afield of egocentric, all this we stuff. I….yeah that’s better, I have taken something from everything I have encountered. I remember when I was in the 3rd grade, we were living down in Fort Hood and for some reason we still had a baby sitter and she was this big buxomy girl/woman and my brothers, the proverbial guy-guys, if you can be guy-guys in the 3rd grade…although we were Army brats so it’s sorta inbred, that whole guy-guy mentality…anyway we had this babysitter and someone came up with the brilliant idea to, and let me put this is the vernacular of a third grader….squeeze her boob…..oh God, just saying it, I remember it perfectly, because my two brothers…the guy-guys remember, didn’t want to do it, after they came up with the idea. So who decided to do it….Needless to say, I don’t want to say that that was the last time I felt a boob, but I know it was the last time that I disrespected a girl/woman in such a way….she gave me quite the stern talking to as I recall, and I dreaded the notion that she was going to tell my mom or dad when they got home. She didn’t which was nice of her. But still…I remember that and feel a bit ashamed of it even still. And yet, it’s what “guy-guys” do all the time. Now don’t take offense if you’re a guy-guy, because of course this is a stereotypical notion of what a “guy-guy” is. Gay guys know what a guy-guy is. Straight guys and there is a difference between a guy-guy and a straight guy, though it may be a very thin line between the two, but there is a difference. Anyway, I look back and I know that even then I wasn’t a guy-guy. I certainly wasn’t in junior high or high school. I was the nice guy. Everyone liked me, nobody hated me….that I was aware of….but I was just there. I remember in computer class in high school….it was taught by one of the football coaches and all the jocks and cheerleaders took the class…it was an easy class and I didn’t really feel like I fit it. I remember whenever we’d have like a class party, watch films…and when I say films, they were sports reels of bloopers and stuff. …I remember how I would buy all this junk food and crap…just so I would feel like I fit in. Course that was back in my straight days…lol….but to this day, the people in that class seemed to know me better than anyone else that I went to school with…Except perhaps the teachers, who all loved me and the people in my spanish class….you go to Mexico with a bunch of people every year for the course of three years…they stick out in your mind. I look back on that and I think, had I made that much effort to get to know people in that one class, had I don’t that with more people, what and who would I be now? I don’t know…. But I am me….Andrew….A Other A words……

• Amalgam….not just cuz I like the word, but because it describes everybody and not just me
• Asexual….I’ve been called that alot, not recently, but back before I started coming out, because, I guess sex….to me, is something more than just sex. I’d like to think that that isn’t so uncommon, but alas, the more I see the more I observe, that to more than a few people, sex is just that….sex, it’s not something shared, but something to do.
• Antiquated….I have this whole romantic notion about love and relationships and what have you that seems so antiquated, so 1950s. It bothers me, mostly because it’s just this ideal and an ideal is not a reality.
• Aberation..I often feel like I am just that….because I am not like everyone else. Which can be said for anyone truthfully…but since I’m not anyone, but me, I can’t make the comparison to anyone else.
• Alcohol…..need I say more….some would say alcoholic, but they would be wrong. I didn’t even have my first drink till I was like 25. And then it was beer. I didn’t care for it. Still don’t. But I like to drink. It gives me a free spirit. I’m very happy go lucky when I drink but I have a very low alcohol tolerance, so I really can’t drink too much without getting sick.
• Afterthought…it’s easy to look back after living something or enduring something and having that whole 20/20 hindsight of what could have been. It’s alot harder to do it now and to know whether or not your’re doing the right thing or not. It’s good for it’s own purposes, but still, by it’s very definition, it’s only good for thought. It’s too late for action…because whatever it is, is already over and done with. Action….if it’s taken, where you go and what you do and who you become are so often different from where you would have been had you not taken it. I wish now, that I had taken different actions at certain opportunities. I wouldn’t be the me I am, I’ certain, and naturally I can’t say I would be better off or worse off.
• Affinity…another word I like, you might say I have an affinity for the word affinity. It’s a pretentious word but I like pretentious words.

I’m sure there are a great deal more A words that I could come up with, but they’re escaping me attention at the time and I feel it’s high time I get this little sucker posted. Perhaps B will be better.