I'm still on vacation

Hey, it feels so good not to feel obligated to write, I've actually contemplated shutting this one down.

Anyway, I just wanted to throw a link out there to one of my favorite blogs ever. I've met this kid and he's incredible, and his writing is just as amazing. I resonate very well with what he has to say and it's beautiful. So take some time and head over to...

LDS Eunuch

anyway, I'm still gone.

This dance is mine.

I'm tired of feeling like I can't write in this blog for fear of receiving more concerned emails begging me to open up to the sender. Chances are, I don't trust you or want you in my life.

That being said, I won't be updating for a while. I hope you all understand.

Heh

Hey Samantha,

Remember that one time that Smurf's friend came out to his mom as an autosexual?

I think we found a way for her to meet her meet her soulmate. Finally, a solution for all the other autsexuals in the world!

Birthday. woot

Okay, I need to put this up really quick so people don't think I'm evil and very ungrateful.

stephalumpagus, the book is incredible, and so are you.

Thank you Beck for taking Samantha and I to lunch. It was wonderful meeting you.

Thanks Samantha for the flowers they are beautiful.

And to everyone else, thanks for the texts, phone calls, etc. You did more than my parents did--since they decided to go camping and ditch me :-D

so, once again. thank you, you made it a really special day.

Hilarious.

The Lovely Bones

Back in my high school days, I was relentlessly involved in the journalism program, newspaper and yearbook was my life. I loved writing satirical articles, book reviews, doing layout, and I felt like I was in control with a grease pencil in my hand. One particularly drizzly February afternoon while I was a sophomore, I was reading The Lovely Bones for the book review that week. It wasn’t particularly fantastic, but it was an interesting story, I had to give the author that much.

I finished with school and one of my neighbors gave me a ride home. I stepped out of the car into the cold moist air that was so unlike the Utah I knew. I remember the stark blue cover of the book looking particularly striking against the yellow grass that was covered in snow only hours before. I walked up to my house and noticed the light coming out the window from my brother’s room. He had a mobile of a self-portrait hanging in the middle of his room. I could see that swaying back and forth.

I’ve already told the story about finding my brother’s body, although I have always left out the detail that I was holding that book. The Lovely Bones. There was the only person that helped me feel grounded into my family, now just laying on the ground in the fetal position, a pile of lovely bones. I wonder if he was happy as he injected the heroin, or if he was scared like the little girl in the book.

I couldn’t finish reading the book. I wanted desperately to prove to myself that I conquer the feelings of loss and just finish that damned book. But a year later the book was still on my nightstand, mocking me. Needless to say I never wrote the review. Defeated, I gave the book back.

When I moved back to Provo, I was at Barnes and Noble with Stephalumpagus. Meandering through their bargain buys section I spotted it again: somehow the reduced price of five dollars and ninety-seven cents made it look weak.

The Lovely Bones now lies underneath my bed, please don’t tell it that I’m still scared to read. I don’t want that book to have any more power of my life.

This is the moment.

Many of you who know me personally can attest to the fact that I love playing at parks. Swinging is one of my favorite feelings in the entire world, I would do it all day if I could. You know I care for you if I've taken you to a park, played on the swings then we've talked afterwards.

There are two times I've gone to a park in north Provo, which is my favorite mostly for sentimental reasons, that I've learned something that has been extremly important.

One of them happened last spring or early summer. I was with SkyBluePink and another friend we used to work with. The stars were particularly bright that night.

"There are many stars in the sky, you just need to choose which one to follow."

No one could have more perfectly said what I needed to hear than she did then. It's something that I think of every time I see the faint lights in the sky at night time. "Choose which one to follow."

Then on Monday the 9th, I was at that park with Max (Here's to Hope) and he asked me to tell him three things I love about myself.

It took me much longer than it should have. I need to think about this more.

just got back from seeing harry potter...

Helena Bonham Carter stole the show. she was absolutely incredible.

Sunday Dinners

My parents and I have dinner about twice a month, and I tend to bring a few people over each time we do it, my brother's kids love meeting all of my friends, and it's nice to have friends there.

Last night AgentKat, John, and Danish Boy came over.

After dinner we went outside and threw tomahawks...I bet you didn't see that one coming.

Here's a picture of the first one Danish Boy ever had stick in the log.




Pretty cool, huh?

Some clarification, please. pt 1

The thread of comments on my last post is now the reason why I won’t hastily write a vague post ever again.

I, like most of you , have counters on your blog so you can tell how many pageloads there are. Over the last few months my average daily page loads have dropped about 40 per day, I can tell when people come to my blog, and for those of you who commented thank you.

Moving on…

I’ve been thinking a lot about my past experiences with meaningful relationships:

From 6th-10th grade there was Suzie. She was one of only two people I told that my brother died. That night I couldn’t stay in my house, so I was in a nearby town staying with my aunt. That’s where she lived, we walked around outside (mind you it was February and very very cold) for almost two hours. Towards the end of our conversation she stopped and told me she’d never, ever stop being my friend. A few months later she distanced herself from me. I was hurting; I had nowhere to go turn. My life continued to fall apart as my brother just older than I was in and out of jail, in different rehab programs. I was alone. My brother left and now Susie left me too. This was when I decided I wouldn’t let anyone near me again.

I had several close friends, they would confide in me everything. This was how I preferred it, I always had the upper hand in the relationship, and I was emotionally detached and had a plethora of dirt I could use on them if they ever chose to pull a Susie.

This is a pattern I continued for the next three and a half years until somebody called me on it.

To be continued (but only if I feel like it)

Dear Loyal Reader,

Yes, I’m only addressing the one person who is reading, I’ve noticed a drastic drop in readership since I stopped posting super happy fun posts about being gay, but it’s my blog, so meh.

I’m having a very difficult time with the concept of having friends right now. It makes me feel kind of lost and slightly angry. I don’t want to go back to where I was a year ago, but I really don’t want to hurt anymore—Now I just need to decide if the possibility of pain is worth real friendship.

I did something scary yesterday, and no, it isn’t what you think.

I’m still kind of sad a lot.

I liked Samantha’s most recent post. A lot. It gave me a lot to think about

Moments of Growth pt one,

In November 2006 I did something very unlike me, I reached out to a friend and asked for a priesthood blessing. One of the things that was promised to me in the blessing was that as I developed a closer relationship with God, He would help me understand all of the things inside of me that were causing me conflict.

In a way I saw that happen last night.

As I knelt in prayer, He helped me put some pieces together:

About a month ago I began the journey of letting go of the idea of living a homosexual life. For the past year I used that as a crutch, I would fantasize about being with a man, either through pornography, or thinking about whoever the love of my life would be and fathering his children, imagining myself in someone’s arms. I found temporary peace in those thoughts.

As I began venturing away from those practices I did my very best to control my thoughts, and keep my mind off of the attractive males of the world. The problem was, I didn’t replace my old coping mechanism. I soon enough found a new one:

Thinking about ending my life.

Suicidal thoughts are somewhat new to me, and although they were somewhat shocking, they were surprisingly comfortable. If my world got too overwhelming I would slip into those thoughts, I found an incredible amount of comfort in imagining my life over. I was jolted quite alarmingly back into reality when Samantha and my mother spoke of my current thoughts. I was scared again. I knew I could never do that.

I was praying last night and I was made aware that I was using the suicidal thoughts the same way that I’d been using the homosexual fantasies. Ideally they both ended pain, they stopped the struggle, and they both made me feel happy in one way or the other.

Yesterday I felt the distinct impression that I need to give up the idea of using suicide as a way of solving my problems. I need to let that go just as I’ve let the idea of having a homosexual relationship go. This needs to be a decision I make every day: and to do that, I desperately need to find appropriate ways of coping.

I love the gospel of Jesus Christ, I love Him and am so grateful for those He has brought into my life to help me.

Not There Yet...

My life right now consists only of work, and trying different things to get me to a place where I can cope with what I'm going through.

I wish I could just get it right the first time, wouldn't that be nice?

I am me, and I have a lot of work to do, and I am beginning to be okay with that.

Happy Sunday