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‎”Not only have you been lucky enough to be attached since...

Tue, 16 Oct 2012 06:02:00 -0400

‎”Not only have you been lucky enough to be attached since time immemorial to a favored evolutionary line, but you have also been extremely—make that miraculously—fortunate in your personal ancestry. Consider the fact that for 3.8 billion years, a period of time older than the Earth’s mountains and rivers and oceans, every one of your forebears on both sides has been attractive enough to find a mate, healthy enough to reproduce, and sufficiently blessed by fate and circumstances to live long enough to do so. Not one of your pertinent ancestors was squashed, devoured, drowned, starved, stranded, stuck fast, untimely wounded, or otherwise deflected from its life’s quest of delivering a tiny charge of genetic material to the right partner at the right moment in order to perpetuate the only possible sequence of hereditary combinations that could result—eventually, astoundingly, and all too briefly—in you.”

Bill Bryson, A Short History of Nearly Everything

I forget how lucky I am.

Tue, 07 Aug 2012 22:35:38 -0400

I forget how lucky I am.

"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."

Tue, 10 Jan 2012 13:14:38 -0500

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

"As she stood in the nursery waiting for her cousins’ return she sensed she could write a scene..."

Mon, 19 Dec 2011 21:10:53 -0500

“As she stood in the nursery waiting for her cousins’ return she sensed she could write a scene like the one by the fountain and she could include a hidden observer like herself. She could imagine herself hurrying down now to her bedroom, to a clean block of lined paper and her marbled, Bakelite fountain pen. She could see the simple sentences, the accumulating telepathic symbols, unfurling at the nib’s end. She could write the scene three times over, from three points of view; her excitement was in the prospect of freedom, of being delivered from the cumbrous struggle between good and bad, heroes and villains. None of these three was bad, nor were they particularly good. She need not judge. There did not have to be a moral. She need only show separate minds, as alive as her own, struggling with the idea that other minds were equally alive. It wasn’t only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you. And only in a story could you enter these different minds and show how they had an equal value. That was the only moral a story need have.”

- Ian McEwan, Atonement

"Finally, progress comes from being willing to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. We need to..."

Wed, 07 Dec 2011 01:00:00 -0500

“Finally, progress comes from being willing to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. We need to ask ourselves, ‘How would it feel if it were a crime to love the person I love? How would it feel to be discriminated against for something about myself that I cannot change?’ This challenge applies to all of us as we reflect upon deeply held beliefs, as we work to embrace tolerance and respect for the dignity of all persons, and as we engage humbly with those with whom we disagree in the hope of creating greater understanding.”

- U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, in a speech to the human rights body of the United Nations on International Human Rights Day.

View the full speech over here
or read it over there!

"You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of..."

Sat, 19 Nov 2011 22:25:12 -0500

“You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering.”

- Henri Frederic Amiel, philosopher and writer (1821-1881)

wusssgoinon, @kweeezy??!? i miss your smile too, bbgrrrrl. work...

Sun, 16 Oct 2011 20:06:06 -0400

wusssgoinon, @kweeezy??!? i miss your smile too, bbgrrrrl. work it!

(btw your posts always push me to strive for more CLASS and STYLE in my life. love it.)

It's National Coming Out Day!

Wed, 12 Oct 2011 00:31:00 -0400

Although I shared my “staying in” story some time ago, I thought that it might be fun and maybe even a little informative to tell a couple of “coming out” stories in honor of National Coming Out Day. I hope that you enjoy these stories as much I enjoyed writing them.

Story 1 of 2: Up and Out of the Rabbit Hole, or The Very First Time I Ever Told Anyone (Besides My Dog, Dukerson Pooper) That I Was Gay

There are a few things that I remember about this night: It was the very early morning of July 13, 2008, the day of little sister’s birthday. I was at my friends’ apartment in Tempe, Arizona, and it was still rather toasty even though it was very late at night, which is typical at the height of summer in the desert. I remember that three of my closest friends, with whom I had attended much of grade school, sat with me on a small balcony, and we were enjoying cigarettes, beer and a relaxed, decadent summer vacation before they began their freshman year of college and I, my sophomore year.

Beyond those things…I really don’t remember much.

The actual conversations or circumstances that prefaced my first ever coming out are unfortunately very blurry. I know that I was very drunk. Consequently, I only have hazy visions of the moment that it actually happened, when I first spoke the words “I’m gay” and then mentally braced myself for the halting impact of one or more of the following:

A. Homophobia
B. Disgust
C. Rejection
D. Accusations of deception
E. Denial
F. Sadness
G. Anger (I’m pretty much just listing Kubler-Ross’s five stages of grief now)

But instead, I encountered:

A. An initial bit of inebriated confusion
B. Surprise
C. From my friends, a comparatively underwhelming but deeply appreciated response of understanding and kindness
D. For myself, a sobering, “Oh my god, what the hell did I just do” sort of feeling that now that I look back at it is pretty incongruous with how relaxed my friends were about it all—a feeling that would describe a lot of my coming out experiences with my friends

It went pretty well, even though back then, I knew that I was freaked out about how real everything suddenly became. Before then, I had never acted upon or really verbalized, out loud or even mentally, the fact that I was gay. I knew that I had been attracted to men and that compared to my attraction to women, the attraction to men came more naturally and powerfully. But I had honestly never thought of living publicly as a gay man—I always thought that it would be something I would gladly suppress so that I could have a perfect wife and make babies the old-fashioned way and we could all live our wonderful, heteronormative lives in a beautiful cottage somewhere. Happily ever after—duh!

Instead, I remember that this was a period of having to accept a lot of difficult things. Having a group of friends who knew that I was gay, and finally saying it out loud, meant that I pretty much had to toss the idyllic snow globe of a life I had originally planned for myself out the window and let it fall and shatter upon the cold asphalt of reality. It meant that, should I want to experience romantic love in all its filmic glory rather than some sort of forced shadow of it, I would have to figure out how to meet and date men. I opened up myself much more to the possibility of adopting children or surrogacy. I knew that I could experience discrimination. And I knew that one day, I would eventually have to tell my family.

As I came out to more and more close friends (who all took it verywell!) and I learned more about LGBT lifestyles and families, these sorts of realities became gradually easier to accept. The wealth of support I received on behalf of my friends is something for which I was and still am profoundly thankful. Without them, I don’t know if I would have made it through this period in which I came to understand myself—and the rest of my life—as a gay person. In retrospect, the hesitations and fears I had before about coming out to them seem, quite frankly, dumb. I know that so many people aren’t as lucky as I am to have such loving and compassionate people in their lives, and one of my hopes in telling stories like these is so that the reality of being gay becomes one that we welcome and embrace rather than suppress or reject.

And so, we come to…

Story 2 of 2: The Longest Three Minutes of My Entire Life, or The Time I Came Out to My Devoutly Catholic Mother and Hyper-Masculine, American Football-Loving Father and Brothers; presented in dramatic form

[It’s the evening of January 3rd, 2010 in BRUCE’s house in suburban Phoenix. Bruce, his MOM, his DAD, and his SECOND OLDEST BROTHER (henceforth referred to as THE S.O.B.) are eating dinner on this quiet evening, the night before Bruce returns to college for the spring semester of his junior year. Urged by his friends and sisters who already know and accept that he’s gay, Bruce has been contemplating telling everyone sitting at the table, as well as his San Diego-inhabiting OLDEST BROTHER, Gerry, that he would love nothing more than to shack up with Ryan Gosling and watch Breaking Bad while eating In-N-Out for the rest of his days. His parents and brothers are essentially the final important group of people to whom Bruce would like to tell that he is gay. He figures that after he does this, his parents and the S.O.B. will pretty much tell everyone else in the extended family…and that he’ll deal with that when it comes. Nervously, but quietly, he chews and gulps down some stewed cabbage before he begins to speak.]

BRUCE: So, I heard you were all wondering if I was gay.

[Everyone else at the table continues their wordless, searingly drawn-out consumption of their dinner. Bruce’s heart begins to thump so loudly that the water in their cups quivers slightly. Everyone wonders when the toothy maw of the T-Rex from Jurassic Park will violently breach through the roof of the kitchen.]

BRUCE: So…did you want to know? If I’m gay?

MOM: Yes.

BRUCE: Well. Uh. I am.

[No one utters a sound. The only thing heard is the clinking of metal forks on ceramic plates. Bruce is about to pass out.]

DAD: Okay.

BRUCE: Yup.

DAD: Do you have a boyfriend?

BRUCE: Nope.

MOM: You’re being safe, right?

BRUCE: Uh, I think so.

[A beat, as everyone continues to eat.]

THE S.O.B.: So, can I call Gerry and tell him?

[END SCENE]

There were a couple more questions and a phone conversation I had to have with my oldest brother, but again, I felt very lucky that this experience went relatively well. Thankfully, the visions I had of being yelled at and kicked out of my house with my mother weeping uncontrollably at the doorstep never came to fruition. Yay!

But what distinguishes this story from the other is that it’s very much still a work in progress. Kind of like the coming out process as a whole.

I consistently experienced support, healthy curiosity, and at the very least, respect, when my friends and sisters learned that I was gay. Not to say that everyone was jumping around in celebration, but I felt like I could be open with all of them about being gay and they would gladly be there for me for experiences like, say, dinner with my first boyfriend (Mr. Gosling, just say the word and I’m yours.).

Being open with my family about being gay, like my first coming out experience, presented a whole new set of difficulties with which I continue to contend. Perhaps the most difficult of these challenges has simply been helping my family to understand what it’s like to be gay, to comprehend the things that I—and millions of other gay people—have to face and deal with in regards to raising a family or just walking onto the street outside of a gay nightclub. I have to show them that me being gay doesn’t mean that I’m doomed to wind up with AIDS or that my children will develop severe mental and emotional deficiencies because they have two dads. I have to encourage my brothers to stop calling certain football players “faggots” in front of my nephew, no matter how much I hate Tom Brady.

It’s sort of funny and strange that we call it “coming out” because it implies that once you’ve made that step out that door that everything’s done, like you’re suddenly breathing in fresh, cool air and feeling the pleasant brightness of the sun on your skin. But I don’t know a single person who has had just that experience alone. As LGBT people, we’re frequently jumping in and out of the closet, coming out to new friends and shying away from people who we think may not be as tolerant or accepting. And once we do come out to certain people, their myriad responses can range from warm compassion to the threat of serious physical harm—or worse.

It is my hope that my stories and that the stories of others (which can be read or watched on sites like I’m From Driftwood—imfromdriftwood.com—and the It Gets Better Project—itgetsbetter.org) can help both gay and straight people to better understand what it’s like to be both closeted and proudly, openly gay. These stories show what it’s like to feel different, excluded, and scared, at times. But I think these stories also have an incredible power to show how being gay can also mean feeling unbelievably loved and uniquely special. I believe that only through undertaking the challenge and having the courage to tell, understand and appreciate one another’s stories can we ever hope to ensure that everyone enjoys the dignity, equality, and happiness that they deserve.

So, I applaud National Coming Out Day and the millions of people who boldly come out…

…to respect people for who they are and who they choose to be,
…to challenge bigotry and ignorance,
…and to champion love in all its forms and colors.

Happy National Coming Out Day!

P.S. For those of you looking for references to help your friends and family to understand more about LGBT people and their experiences, PFLAG—Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, pflag.org—is an excellent resource.

P.P.S. If you take away anything from my stories, let it be this: don’t tell your friends and family important things when you’re drunk! Show them and yourself some respect and do it while you’re sober! You’ll thank me for it later, I promise.

“Will You Love Me Tomorrow” - Roberta...

Wed, 21 Sep 2011 17:26:43 -0400

“Will You Love Me Tomorrow” - Roberta Flack

Rediscovered this gorgeously haunting version of an old favorite while loading some music on my grandma’s digital photo frame (Happy 85th Birthday, Nanay!).

Surgeon General’s Warning: May cause violent weeping, excessive longing, and soul-pulverizing despair at the thought of being forever alone.

One Friday night...

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 23:43:00 -0400

…I will challenge myself (and any other crazies that wanna join me) to accomplish everything in Katy Perry’s hit song, “Last Friday Night.” This means that I will have to accomplish several things in various time frames:

Friday night:

Dance on table tops
Take too many shots
Kiss someone and think that I forgot
Max my credit card (:[ :[ :[)
Get kicked out of a bar
Hit the boulevard (I’m thinking Las Vegas Boulevard)
Streak in the park
Skinny dip in the dark
Have a menage a trois (woo)
Be unsure about the legality of an action
Say that I’m gonna stop

The following Saturday morning:

Host a stranger in my bed
Suffer from pounding in my head
Find glitter all over my room…
…And pink flamingos in my pool
Smell like a minibar (so, like, alcohol, I guess)
Find a DJ passed out in the yard
Discover Barbie on the barbecue
Have a hickey or a bruise, and be unsure about which of the two it really is
Try to connect the dots
Be unsure of what to tell my boss
Think that the city towed my car (:[ :[ :[)
Find the chandelier on the floor
Rip my favorite party dress (awww)
Have a warrant out for my arrest (:[[[[[[[[[[)
Need a ginger ale
Have pictures from last night end up online
Be screwed (oh well)
Struggle to remember last night, as it is a blacked-out blur
Assure myself that it ruled (dayum!)

Finally, next Friday night:

Do it all again.

…

TGIF

TGIF

(Hopefully, I can work a Kenny G solo up in there somehow)

for the last time...

Sun, 31 Jul 2011 20:49:00 -0400

No, Icurrently do not have plans to attend medical school.

No, I currently do not have plans to apply to medical school for this round of applications.

No, I have not entirely ruled out the possibility of applying to and then attending medical school, should I be accepted.

No, I am not mad or upset that you asked or were curious about my post-graduate plans.

Yes, I am planning on one day making some sort of contribution to the advancement and enrichment of society and utilizing the myriad skills and lessons I learned while attending my ultra-expensive university. It would also be great to give back to the family and friends who have given so much of themselves to me.

But no, I do not have every single aspect of my entire life planned out at this very moment.

No, I am not sorry for failing to conform to whatever expectations you built around my career when you first met me and you learned my plans and you became familiar with my talents.

Yes, I am somewhat lost.

But no, I will not apologize for letting that happen. I learned so much about myself in college and I’m actually really proud of the way that I challenged myself to strive for something beyond what I was used to, beyond what I planned for myself, beyond what you may have planned for me.

Yes, I’m a little scared.

But yes, I am trying to figure some things out.

Yes, I believe in myself and my abilities.

Yes, I think I’m strong enough to make it through. I hope you do too.

And yes, I am always appreciative your support and your friendship.

(P.S. Yes, I took the MCAT. And I killed that shit.)

On change.

Thu, 31 Mar 2011 12:04:00 -0400

Things change. This is not a new idea. This is something that happens all the time, in a variety of places, in a variety of ways. Change can be great. It can be terrible. But it happens, undeniably, inevitably, and all that we can hope for is that we have the capability to adapt to that change, to adjust our patterns of behavior so as to best deal with the revolutions that occur around us. If we strive for a return to a prior state, well, I guess that’s perfectly acceptable, but the wheels of time are rarely forgiving of that attitude. Openness to change…it lends itself to the possibility of failure, to be sure, but it also ensures that we take any risks at all, that we make any progress at all. And in our youth, I think that willingness to fail, to explore new ways to do things, that openness to just try, is invaluable in helping us carve out what sort of goals we would ultimately want to accomplish for ourselves throughout our lifetime. Exploration is risk, but ships were not built to sit safely in the harbor. This openness to vulnerability is what has enabled me to post these thoughts on the internet at all, let alone live safely and healthily in this country as a gay Asian-American man.

I have had the sincere pleasure of being a member of one of the most forward-thinking organizations at my university. It is an organization that was founded on the tenets of activism, integrity and enthusiasm—a belief that people who follow the ambitious passions in their hearts and trust in their informed judgments can persevere to effect change in their communities, maybe even the world. I love that within this organization, I have not only been able to meet some of the most kind-hearted and inspiring people I have met in my entire life, but that I have also been able to collaborate and conversate with a collective of like-minded individuals who believe in the power of effective leadership in addressing the issues and problems that we face as a generation—as the human race.

I guess what I’m having the most difficulty contending with in regards to this organization, which I treasure quite dearly, is the deeply institutionalized resistance to change—or even just trying out something new—that I feel has characterized the organization ever since it emerged from the glorious, hallowed period of its inception. As a relatively new member of the organization, I have felt—and often been told explicitly—that I have missed the so-called “golden days” of the organization, that I never got a chance to experience the truest, purest form of the culture that the organization once used to have. I have seen the incoming members fall prey to the same sort of condescending legends—many of us have been made to feel as if we are steadily moving further away from the organization as it once was, at its absolute best. We are constantly comparing our experiences with the organization with the experiences we feel cheated out of. We are embittered, discouraged, and disillusioned while the members of the old guard look out upon the organization and lament about the way things once were.

But ultimately, I think we are wrong in feeling this way. I hope I may be so bold as to say that the golden days are yet to come.

We say that we must adhere to standards established by those before us, that without those standards, we have nothing, that we are undeserving of respect and legitimacy. I contest that, given the youth of this organization, and quite frankly, a disconnect from the national council that claims its jurisdiction over us, we have full license to revisit and revise these standards as we see fit. The nature of our organization, the very idea of it, is such that it thrives upon the diversity of the leaders that it is meant to empower and the ideas and hopes that those leaders may have. To expect all future members of the organization to fall in line perfectly with our own ideas is short-sighted, and personally, hazardous to us as leaders striving for positive change. We must entrust ourselves with the ability and the responsibilty to maintain those standards that, throughout time, remain applicable and relevant to our organization. We must not be afraid to abandon those principles which we have tested and seen fail or have simply become replaced by more pertinent values and standards. And throughout this formative period, we must continually have the unabashed freedom to discuss and explore the role and purpose of our organization in our campus community, in our development as leaders, and in our lives as a whole. It is always remarkable to see the profound loyalty to the organization that our members have, but I want to entreat them to wonder if they truly love the organization and believe in all that it could be, or if they solely love the organization as it existed in 2009.

Lastly, to the leaders of this organization, I want to encourage them to keep facing their challenges with their heads held high, and I want them to know that their efforts to work with this group of energetic and diverse leaders have not gone unseen. I applaud their endeavors to spearhead new projects and goals, and I caution them to not let themselves be trapped under the foot of dogma. Their work will undoubtedly leave its mark on the foundation of this organization, which, as we’ve seen tonight, is still being constructed, maybe even envisioned. And considering we’ve only been around for three years, I think that’s totally fine. But we all have to do what we can to help build upon that foundation and, hopefully, emerge as a family after all is said and done.

Almost every single one of these has applied to me at one time or another.

Tue, 29 Mar 2011 19:08:00 -0400

Almost every single one of these has applied to me at one time or another.:

Favorite:

“LET’S GO AROUND THE ROOM AND HAVE EVERYONE SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THEMSELVES”

FUCK

my actual response to the question: "may you stay forever young?"

Thu, 06 Jan 2011 04:40:51 -0500

see: booker t. washington, sigmund freud

Hope gave birth to three children.

The first of these children, a boy, loved his mother very much. As an infant, he eagerly drank from his mother’s teat, and grew to be very strong and determined, with a virtuous compassion and understanding for others. He observed many injustices in the world and was optimistic in his power and the ability of others to address them, and so, while it was painful, he left home, having had his fill of his mother’s milk. He went out into the world, observed the inequalities suffered by minority populations at the hands of the majority, and worked hard to educate the minority so that one day, they might achieve full representation and equality with the majority. In his efforts, the son faced many trials at the hands of the discriminatory majority that tested him greatly, but ultimately helped him to grow. In spite of his struggles, he remained optimistic that the minority and majority populations would one day live in harmony. He failed often, but brought himself up from these failures with a steadfast determination to move forward in his fight for equality. He saw challenges as opportunities, rather than roadblocks. And every so often, he would return to his mother and be nurtured by her love and care. Hope herself felt very enlivened and invigorated by the accomplishments of her first-born son, whether they were small or large. Finally, years after he had left home, the son died in his weeping mother’s arms, satisfied with his life’s work and believing in the possibility for progress to his final breath.

Hope then gave birth to a second child, a daughter. As an infant, this child hated the taste of her mother’s milk. Once she was old enough, the poorly nourished daughter fled her home and also went out into the world. Hope was devastated by this abandonment. Now free from her home, this child lacked the sort of faith that her elder brother had had in his struggle to obtain full equality. Instead, the child only saw people suffering from deeply institutionalized oppression that pervaded nearly every aspect of society. She saw people embroiled in miserable struggles to repress, sublimate, and project their unconscious desires while being crushed by the foot of societal rules and the pressures of mass conformity. Achieving equality, economically or politically, appeared to be a futile form of appeasement to the daughter. Thus, she scoffed at her brother’s work, seeing his achievements as short-term remedies that attempted to address or rationalize the symptoms of discontent and ultimately ignored the underlying cause: widespread, abject repression of desire. Hope’s heart grew very heavy with sadness and disillusionment when she learned of her daughter’s pessimism. Many years later, the estranged daughter died far away from home, having never seen her mother again and embittered about the future of human existence to her last breath.

Hope gave birth to one more child, another son. This child greedily suckled for many years from his mother’s breast. Always filled with his mother’s milk, he was optimistic that all would be right in the world, and that all of the evils faced by people—inequality, discrimination, violence, repression, mindless conformity—would eventually resolve themselves. Thus, he never went out into the world. Out of his brimming optimism in the capabilities of others, or perhaps out of fear, he never bothered or cared to leave home, and so he remained a child in his mother’s home. While he never encountered the dark oppression that burdened his older sister, he also never felt the joy or the pride his brother experienced out of triumph over hardships. While Hope nurtured and loved the hungry child, she herself became very weak, lacking the nourishment she had received from the fruit of her firstborn’s accomplishments and exhausted from having to continually feed her younger son. Eventually, the child could sense his mother’s debilitation, and decided that he had had his fill of his mother’s milk. He left his home and pursued greater equality for all, just like his brother had once done. He began to age, lived a long life full of challenges, failures, and successes, and died in his weeping mother’s arms.

Hope gave birth to many more children. Some turned away from her, never believing in the possibility for progress. Some loved her greatly and worked tirelessly to stem the evils that they perceived in the world. And others tried to hold onto her for as long as they could without ever trying to do something about the injustices they observed, but eventually she had to let them go, because Hope alone could not sustain them forever.

i dunno…i guess it got me a good grade

"The evidence shows that the movement of marriage away from a gendered institution and toward an..."

Wed, 04 Aug 2010 17:10:00 -0400

“The evidence shows that the movement of marriage away from a gendered institution and toward an institution free from state-mandated gender roles reflects an evolution in the understanding of gender rather than a change in marriage. The evidence did not show any historical purpose for excluding same-sex couples from marriage, as states have never required spouses to have an ability or willingness to procreate in order to marry. Rather, the exclusion exists as an artifact of a time when the genders were seen as having distinct roles in society and in marriage. That time has passed.”

- from the ruling on prop. 8, which decided today that gays and lesbians have a constitutional right to marry in california

maybe...just have fun.

Sat, 31 Jul 2010 03:43:02 -0400

i have no idea what i want to do with my life!

hmmmmm

do you know??

a staying-in story.

Sat, 26 Jun 2010 07:18:00 -0400

the coming-out was quick. when it happened, there were a few breathless moments that seemed painfully extended, but once the words were said, it was pretty much over. both my friends and family respectfully and graciously acknowledged it, asked a few questions, and then i was free.

it was the staying-in that felt like it lasted forever.

the realization that i was gay came gradually; i didn’t just wake up one day and suddenly have homosexual urges. from perhaps the age of nine or ten, i would see handsome men in films or on the television and feel a little mesmerized, or i would coyly gaze at a cute boy for a little longer than i expected i would. these longing looks were quickly averted before they could be noticed. with time, the frequency and length of these stares would increase, and the intensity of the feelings in my chest would manifest itself in the clenching of my teeth.

i learned to mask these feelings. my parents and older siblings would tease me about my friends who were girls, asking if i were interested in any of them, and i would casually drop names of a few classmates who had pleasant features that i found reasonably, but not heart-thumpingly, attractive. my family’s hopes for my future; my brothers’ machismo; my mother’s religious beliefs—all of these were what i perceived as rational, if unfortunate, reasons for me to stay in the closet.

i came to realize that my family’s hopes were my own. they wished for me to grow up to marry a nice girl, and i desperately hoped and prayed for the same thing. it wasn’t so much that i grew up thinking being gay was wrong, but rather that being straight was right. it’s not that the fairytales and disney cartoons i worshipped show gays being violently punished for their misbehavior, but rather that straight people, the princes and their glowing maidens, are rewarded with happy endings in glorious palaces and castles. i felt powerless to rewrite those stories for myself.

so, to achieve my fairytale ending, it became necessary to lie. saying it that way makes it sound like i was on a mission, and in a way, i was. dating a girl was a goal for me, something to add to my list of to-dos on my road to a life acceptable by my standards and those of the people whom i cared for the most. i regrettably deceived girls into thinking i was interested in them, not out of malice, but because i wanted so badly to actually be interested in them. eventually, the person i lied to the most was myself. i consciously and foolishly told myself that these excruciating desires to be with men would cleanly resolve themselves once i found a girl that i could feel truly passionate about; that nothing else would matter once i found my own princess who would gladly inhabit a palace or a castle with me. thankfully, my attempts to build relationships with girls all failed—although back then, i was thoroughly ashamed and disappointed in myself for failing as a man, at least from my limited perspective. to this day, i still feel terrible about the girls to whom i swore such deep commitment, and yet failed to even feign interest in; about the indisputable fact that i lied to them so intimately and for so long.

it’s almost funny how relatively quickly i transitioned from thinking that i would have to hide my sexuality for the rest of my life to looking forward to living with it happily and publicly. within the span of sophomore and junior years of college, i decided that i wanted to come out, actually followed through with it, and went on my first date with a guy. surely, there were lots of cultural factors; the rise of queer eye for the straight guy, the release of brokeback mountain, the proud announcement of lance bass. the film milk was particularly instrumental; it’s probably the reason why i’m writing this in the first place. admittedly, alcohol also made it a lot easier for me to finally verbalize that i was gay.

perhaps the most rewarding part of coming out—and i can’t really say if it was a cause, or the result—wasn’t that i could finally love men openly, but that i could finally, truly love myself for the person that i really was. when i think of the shame and the guilt or the fear and the sadness, i also reflect on how much happier and more confident and hopeful i feel than i ever did before. for me, peering deep into the closet has been just as valuable as the moment when i finally stepped out of it.

and i guess that’s where the fairytale begins.

via brooklynmutt.com

Fri, 28 May 2010 20:42:19 -0400

via brooklynmutt.com

i don't know why...

Fri, 19 Mar 2010 04:02:25 -0400

…i continue to feel surprised every time someone in my life shows me how much he/she cares. i’m so thankful to be surrounded by such devoted, considerate, and loving people. you all deserve to know my gratitude, and i’m going to work much harder at expressing it.

RIP, ugly betty :( it’s so disappointing that this...

Thu, 28 Jan 2010 03:32:23 -0500

RIP, ugly betty :(

it’s so disappointing that this cancellation comes after the hopeful announcement that the show would be moved from the friday night ~~death~~ damnation slot to wednesday night. but given the rather ugly quality of the past two seasons, i think it’s time to let go.

as a tearful goodbye, i’ve posted one of my favorite moments from season two, maybe from the whole series. ugly betty may be done, but amanda is FOREVER.

la la la la laaaaaaaaa