I'm lucky

I’ve been really contemplative today. I couldn’t bring myself to go to class today, I didn’t go outside until after four. Samantha called me, and we talked about almost everything for an hour and a half. I love her. I spent the rest of my day writing posts for my secret blog.

When it comes to lessons essential for me to learn I’m pathetically slow, but today I’m coming to terms with the fact that people care for me, worry about me, and love me. I still believe that I’m not worth loving. As much as I don’t want to acknowledge it, that may, in fact, be a fallacy.

The most prominent reason why I don’t want to believe I’m worth loving is that means I may actually have to thrive, grow, and become someone better than who I am. That’s terrifying!

But I stood back for a moment and took everything in: I had one of the most amazing people call me today and we just talked, through that conversation I learned that other people care and are concerned for me, tonight I got a burned CD with some great music from By a Single Thread and a much needed hug and a text message just making sure I was okay.

I’m really scared. Things may be getting messy, or may be getting better, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to face tomorrow, although I do know that I’ll have people who love me and who will be with me every step of the way.

I guess I’m lucky I have so many people who love and care for me. I’m lucky that there are people who have and will invest so much energy into helping me. One day I’ll be free from all of this pain and crap I am going through right now, I’ll be free from my unhealthy coping mechanisms and it will be because of the help I received from those who love me.

Holi!

AgirlWho... and I walking up to the Hare Krishna temple in Spanish Fork.



You can't see the flames because I was too far back, but they just lit the demon on fire--the colored chalk was everywhere





I'll upload some more later tonight when I have the time, and Agirlwho puts hers up on facebook.

Hold tight, it is just beginning

It happened again, I woke up feeling messed up, worthless, and broken. I don’t like feeling like this at all. I got in the shower and went to Elders Quorum, and left ten minutes later.

I was with Samantha last weekend, since then we’ve talked a little about finding a counselor for me, then she said something that sort of just made me cringe, “Don’t hide behind being gay.”

I know most of my issues don’t come from being gay, that’s just the way most of them are manifested. For me I don’t have issues with being gay, I have other ones that I still don’t know what they are. I’m experiencing some sort of stress and suddenly I want to jump the nearest guy—I’ve done it too. It doesn’t solve anything.

I have unhealthy coping mechanisms. Masturbation and porn, those are given, I’ve been addicted to porn since I was 12 and things got so much worse after my brother died. I was in a very unhealthy co-dependent relationship for a while, I’m still reeling from the pain I inflicted on myself, when I decided to break that off I didn’t eat any real food for a week. Oh, did I mention I was hypoglycemic? I got around that nasty little fall back by eating 1.5 pounds of starbursts, 2 bags of the suckers with the gum in the middle, and some chocolate just to sustain my glucose level enough I didn’t pass out (oh, by the way, It’s been since December that I’ve weighed myself, I lost 15 pounds in the matter of two weeks and I’m terrified to find out if I have lost any more weight.) As stereotypical as it seems I’ve used shopping as a crutch, and now I’m in some really obnoxious financial situations.

People keep telling me I can’t do this alone, but I don’t know how else to do it, I don’t know how to have people help me. I keep thinking about it, over and over again. I spent last Friday thinking about how to open up. I can’t figure out how to do it. Am I stupid? How is it that someone doesn’t know how to ask for help, or even know how to allow someone to help them?

Stay tuned for a post from Holi, I had a really good time at the festival, I’ll be posting pictures hopefully later today.

There's no comfort in the waiting room

Okay I'm back everyone. I decided that after Samantha left I was going to take a break from feeling for a while. It was a nice little vacation, but I'm back. It turns out when I ignore stuff I can't sleep well, which in turns makes me too tired to go to class, makes me not want to eat like I should, and then my life slowly starts to fall apart. Shucks. I used to be really good at shoving everything underneath a rug.

This is terrifying. I've always been able to ignore whatever I wanted for much longer than this. I went three years with ignoring the fact that my oldest brother who was also my best friend killed himself. I ignored the fact that I'm gay for at least a solid 8 years. I was only able to make myself not feel for 4 days. FOUR DAYS! I'm scared this is going to be much more exhausting than I previously thought.

It's time to leave the fence again, put on my brave face and do everything in my power to become who I was meant to become...but I'm so tired.

One day I'll be able to trust myself in any situation, there will be a day in my life when I won't plan my escape everytime I enter a room, I'm hoping that one day I won't over analyze everything that people say. One day I will be happy.

Soulfarce

Those obnoxious fags are at it again.

I say we vote them off the gay island. I still stand by the fact that they don't have pretty lesbians...nor are their gay men that pretty either.

**More to come later**

This made me laugh

.::.

"The important thing is this: to be willing at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."

What are we willing to sacrifice?

A New Blog

Okay I haven't actually done this, but I'm announcing a new blog of a very close friend of mine. By a Single Thread, he is the nicest person I've ever met, has the most amazing voice--and I've heard a lot of SSA guys sing, amazing style, and since he just offered me garlic toast I'm even more impressed.

...wah?

I think I recovered from my terrible bout of word vomit that started last night around 11:24 pm.

I kept from spilling my most disturbing secret to Roz...barely, I stopped myself mid-sentence 13 times that I counted, probably more..I've never been good at that whole counting thing.

Samantha and I have had a lot of fun. woot woot...and now I'm tired.

UV Rays & Psychology 101 a post that's a little late...

With the temperatures rising, I’ve been having the desire to wear shorts, a t-shirt and my chacos, so I looked around, made a few calls and ended up a tanning place. I walked in and—bright lights and lime paint, with dance club music. To my surprise there was a guy at the front desk. At the tanning places I’ve to or seen there has always been women and practically no men. But this place was packed with guys…and only one girl. The man at the front desk welcomed me. Obvious lisp…keep in mind, “welcome” doesn’t have any S’s to lisp.

After I left the tanning place I ran back to my place, rinsed off, and headed to psychology class. As you guessed it, it was hell.
There was just a “Shhh”ing war going on, between the compulsive liar with deformed lady bits and the girl who has “issues with psychology.” Eventually the teacher got the class under control and then disaster struck.

“So…post hypnotic suggestions are like when people are playing poker… then they’re nervous so they like tick and twitch, right?”

Uhhhh, you have got to be kidding me!

Anyway, Samantha is visiting and we're having wicked fun, I'll write about our Jamba Juice adventure, shopping, etc.

.:second place victory:.

“I believe everyone has been chained to something they didn’t love.”

When I first read that, lists flipped through my mind like names on a Rolodex, the next more distressing than the previous one.

I also read in a Postsecret from last summer that confession is the first step towards innocence, so, here we go.

Stepping toward innocence…

Obviously the first thing I’m going to say is that I hate being chained to myself. I find myself yearning to not be who I am, and to have this person that I am be able to lie in the wayside so I can actually enjoy a day for once. Being tied to oneself, such a disabling concept.

I’m tied to my past that was in a co-dependent relationship. There was a time that I found myself not being able to function without someone in my life. I’m sure you are all piecing this one together, but homosexual relationships, for me, are like the flaxen cord described in the scriptures that slowly leads men to hell. At first my eyes were covered, I lost sight of my Redeemer whom only a few months earlier I earnestly testified of. That cord went around my chest, I couldn’t breathe any longer, and in desperation I threw myself in deeper thinking that would possibly solve the mess I found myself in. It is only now that I can see the light momentarily break through the cords covering my eyes, and I can now gasp for air even though it hurts so much to breathe.


I’m chained to what my new therapist will be calling a “compulsive sexual behavior,” I just call it porn and masturbation. They are nice, backstabbing friends that always come back when my life seems to fall apart. I dislike how I lean on them more than I lean on the Savior. Here I am, crying out to my own version of a god, saying “Save me! I can’t do this anymore!” and they buoy me up, numbing me temporarily but I find myself in the same situation, a few days—if not hours later. If I wasn’t chained to this form of an idol that I rely on, yet do not love, I would be happier and have some real confidence.

Also along the same lines, I’m shackled to independence. I am more obsessed with looking like I can do this by myself more than I am concerned with actually surviving. AGirlWho told me last Monday evening in passing, “You can’t pick up all the glass yourself you know,” referring to what I had posted earlier that day. I know I can’t do it, but sometimes it’s nice to pretend, right? (Here’s my action plan, start seeing Therapist—Called and waiting a returning phone call. I’m checking this one off, talk to bishop—check, waiting to hear what’s next…

What are you chained to that you don't love?

feel free to listen, feel free to stare

One of the reasons why I have been so (delete) messed up lately is all this self-loathing I’ve been experiencing. Let’s take today for example, I was feeling so much better after last night, I was almost smiling from being happy, not because it was expected of me. Then today I was driving around in my car; it was such a beautiful day and I remembered stupid things I’ve said or done over the past few years and at the end of each memory there was an instinctive, “I hate myself.” It makes me sick how much I don’t like who I am!

I’ve been buying a lot of clothes recently—not cheap items either. I’ve also been dressing up more than usual, doing my best to appear colder and walk with confidence. I keep dressing myself up--making myself look good because I can’t make myself feel any better on the inside, I can’t do anything that makes me feel like I’m a worthwhile good-looking person with the things that count.

The portions of the dorm room that are mine are spotless. I vacuumed three times today, organized and reorganized my desk twice, and then color coordinated my closet and organized the drawers: all in an attempt to convince myself that I have things put together and that I am in control. Didn't work.

I bought a new air freshener for my dorm: coconut lime verbena. Besides me being the scent police I have no idea how that fits in with me being utterly (delete) up lately.

So Confused. (So much shouting, so much laughter pt 1.5)

A few days ago, El V’s roommate invited me to a benefit he was singing at on Sunday, which was last night at a church in SLC. El V picked me up, along with two girls in their ward. After the delusional El V got the address mixed up, we arrived at the non-LDS church.

Walking into the chapel I immediately knew something was up, we sat behind a lesbian couple, too our left there were a few gay couples…then I start looking around and it became apparent there were very few straight people.

I sent a text message to someone I knew was there that said, "There are a lot of...you know whats if you catch my drift."

He replied, "I'm picking up what you're laying down."

Then the more feminine part of the lesbian couple on the bench in front of us sang beautifully in the program, as did El V’s roommate. After the intermission a nice portly man with colored in eyebrows got up and gave an overly emotional speech saying, “being here I have realized that it’s more than just GLBT people coming together, it’s about GLBT, straight people, and even Hispanics coming together to make a difference.”

(looks around)

Neglecting the obvious flaws in his statement I realized I was at a GLBT cancer fundraiser. Suddenly everything made much more sense: the man that I first thought was a woman (even in the gay world you don’t see very many pixie cuts) the young guy with eyeliner that kept checking me out, the older gay couple with matching shirts, glasses, pants, and highlighted hair.

It was quite the experience.

So much shouting, so much laughter part 1

I’ve been a complete and total mess the past week and a half. I’ve been uncontrollably hideous, desperate, lonely, and that horrible feeling of not being able to focus on anything but wanting to jump someone.

Saturday was not a lot of fun for me. I was just in pieces on the inside. I was lazy at work, and afterwards I went down to Provo for Dancesport. Not a good idea for someone who is going through one of those, “I have a crush on every boy!” phases. There were so many attractive guys…or maybe because I just wanted some. Meh. Anyway, I was all torn up about that.

Afterwards I went to see The First Kiss and we talked for a while, I felt a little better. Quoting Drop Dead Gorgeous always does that. But even after our chat I felt like curling up in a little ball and not wanting to move for a while.

…Okay I can’t finish this tonight; my roommate is reading the Book of Mormon oultoud in Korean.

.:Superhero:.

i used to be a superhero

no one could hurt me

not even myself

you are like a phone booth

i somehow stumbled into

and now look at me

i am just like everybody else

i want my old friends, i want my old face, i want my old mind f--- this time and place

I'm a jerk

In an attempt to appear straight, I let my roommate dress walk out the door dressed like a jackass. In my defense he did walk in to our room when I had just applied my Clean and Clear Pore Cleansing Mask.

He has a second date with a Romanian girl that he is completely falling for. It's quite endearing. In desperation he asked me what he should wear, I suggested a button-up shirt over his tshirt. He picked out this boring boxy cut shirt that doesn't compliment his physique at all, with some baggy, cheap jeans.

Asking if his ensemble was appropriate, I said, "looks cool," and went to get in the shower.

I feel like I could've used my gay powers for so much more, I'm a jerk.

In other news I have a sort of date with Cute EFY '04 girl--not to be confused with The First Kiss. I'm going to head out in about thirty minutes, and we have no plans whatsoever, it's going to be a glorious flop. I'll blog about it later.

PS I still feel like falling apart inside, but I look amazing. Win some lose some

The Gayest Thing Ever.

Last night El Veneno called and said his roommate was having people over and wanted to watch a movie, I was invited and I brought over a movie.

El V’s roommate, as you may or may not know, is SSA/Homo/Gay (take your pick I prefer the phrase "Prefers less conventional game," or, "Moho," but whatev.), and he just built a new house. In this new house is a rather large, sexy 62” LCD Projection TV. Most guys would reserve such an attractive television strictly for sports and the occasional action movie with a sexy starlet who has many steamy scenes with the star of the movie.

But not Mohos, we gathered around this gorgeous piece of electronic equipment, an idol to manliness, and watched MEAN GIRLS. It was hilarious. *sigh* I think the Brawny Man might strike us down.

Golly Sandra

There's a ton that I want and need to write down, but I don't know if I have the time to do it, or, when I do have the time if I'll still have the interest/need to write about these things.

Something that just came up that I want to get outside of my head is the fact that I hate driving my car. For those of you who don't know--my oldest brother (in other words, the gay one) over dosed/committed suicide just over four years ago. When he passed away I was just about 16, so my parents kept the car around and I eventually got to drive it.

His car, an old, beat-up hatch-back no longer smells like him, I've long since stopped finding drugs hidden in the car, I've had the alignment fixed from when he wrecked into something the night he passed away, and there are considerably more miles on it than when he was driving it. It's almost a different car.

Except recently everything has been reminding me of him. I hate driving my car, I keep seeing him in his casket. It isn't a pretty picture.

When he died, he was lying on his face, meaning that gravity took over and all the blood settled in his face. As you can imagine, he didn't look at all natural for the viewing.

He was blue, with a ton of make-up, he was bloated, and his neck looked weird. One of the departing gifts he gave to us was he shaved his head only a few hours before he died, which only added to him looking awkwardly disgusting for the funeral.

I keep seeeing that everytime I think of my car. I think I need to get a new one. soon. I remember his promise to me, "I want to be the best big brother I can be for you."

He only kept that promise for a year until he wound up dead. Thanks a lot.

PS, if any of you are thinking of selling a car, let me know. I need to get out of mine soon.

As I’ve been reading the coming out stories by those in the in the queerosphere, I find myself getting angry by reading their stories. I’m angry at their whining because they apparently have understanding parents who cared about them and they knew it.

I on the other hand had my mother immediately burst into tears and run away, then after my mother talked to my father she then came and told me, “Your dad won’t be able to speak with you for a while.”

After I was rejected from serving a mission, I decided to move out and go to school. My parents would come home screaming, crying, and slamming doors. I was called insensitive, bratty, stuck up, my parents claimed I would just leave the church and prostitute myself for drugs on the street corner (I heard that one three times—scenarios my oldest brother found himself in) they said that my plans to stay close to the church was just a farce, a cover-up for my true feelings of leaving the Gospel that I love.

I remember sitting in the computer room typing out blogs during the summer, I felt my life was falling apart, and then my parents would come home and rip into me. This went on until I invited my parents to the evergreen conference. That was happening for four months. FOUR MONTHS at least once a week.

So sorry if I get angry reading your stories of coming out and only finding your parents not really educated on the how’s and why’s of same-sex attraction.

College F. U.n

Well, well. It seems like the party that is The Least Prestigious Community College in the State of Utah is only increasing with unfortunately awkward moments and lameness as we progress diligently through the semester.

It started out with having the window pane next to my bed shattered a week ago by a snowball. That was hella fun, I still stand by the fact that the people who live in my building are the most obnoxious people in the world.

Then I went in to make a payment onto my account and found out that they had attempted to charge me just under $700 for insurance, late fees, and the like. I may be the only one, but I’d rather spend 700 bucks on denim and shoes than on insurance—especially when I have my own already.

When I began thinking about that, I recalled I’ve already filled out an insurance waiver—a nifty little document saying I didn’t need the schools sub par insurance FOUR EFFING TIMES.

So now, instead of studying for a test I have tomorrow I’m seething that I have to waste my time writing letters of appeal, talking to so-and-so, and explaining that the school dropped the ball on multiple occasions.

Nice Cashier Lady told me the things I needed in my little letter, such as “Explanation of how you’ll resolve this situation so that the problem or difficulty will not continue,” I’m thinking that, “Transferring to another school.” Would be a bad idea, also concerning my housing fees that should be non-existent my solution would be, “Never to live in your mold infested trashy dorms again.”

I asked Nice Cashier Lady who I deliver the bill for my time, she just stared at me. Damn.

.::.

You know that overwhelming feeling you get when you drop a glass or a plate on the ground and it shatters? That exact feeling when you feel the glass slip out of your hand and you see the shards scatter all over the floor and you feel your insides freeze and suddenly feel worthless. When that happens to me (quite often I should add, I'm not very smooth) I usually swear and then do my best to clean it up, but right now I feel like I can't do it.

I just have this inconvenient feeling that I’ll never be able to clean up all the pieces.

I don’t know what to do. I just need to get this out of me so I can function for the day.

In other news that is slightly related I’m moving back to Provo at the end of the semester in an attempt to help me put my life back together. Have a good one kids

a loving moment

I was talking with some friends tonight after watching a movie and suddenly I had a very distinct feeling

"You will be happy one day."

Moments like that give me the energy to keep going forward

I'm Kinda Tired

I didn't go to my morning class today, instead I slept in then read pop-culture news regarding B.spears (or B.Shears) stayed on top of all my RSS feeds, which is quite the challenge keeping up with GFY since it was just the Oscars.

Then I went to Film, which wasn't actually bad since we just watch a really tender movie made in the 1960's.

anywho. I'm off to go watch The Constant Gardener...again. it's amazing.