Missionary Position (A One Man Play)

Tonight I went to see "Missionary Position" by Steven Fales, author of "Confessions of a Mormon Boy" with Alan of Scrum Central at the Celebration Theatre in West Hollywood, CA. (That's a lot of links in one sentence, huh?)

The play hit home in so many ways, and as Steven knelt down and pleaded and haggled with God to "make [him] straight" I just wanted to hug him.

And not because he was really cute with a smile that lights up a room.  But because I saw myself in him.  His portrayal of his pre-mission teenage self, begging with God for forgiveness about his "self abuse" problem, begging to be made straight, cut me to the core.

I saw my 19 year old self, sitting in church on a Sunday, crying in the pew with my head down, asking God why I couldn't be free from this evil.  I'd sit and imagine my death and, despite the intense pain accompanying the impact with an oncoming T (subway) train, how sweet the release of death would be.

Throughout the play, Fales breaks into verse from classic Mormon hymns.  Ye Elders of Israel; Shoulder To The Wheel; Called To Serve; and more, and it was hard not to sing along.

In the first ten minutes, Fales jokes about how being a missionary for two years is like paying tithing on the first 20 years of your life.  I lost it and laughed very loudly when no one else in the theater did.  He looked right at me, and said "Oh, hello Elder!"  He knew I must be Mormon, and it was wonderful to see his eyes light up.

The show is not going to go over well with most Mormons, which is a shame, because so much of the show is lost on it's generally non-mormon audience.  For once I kind of felt like an honored guest or a member of an exclusive club--I was perfectly positioned, along with Alan, to get both the "gay" jokes and the "mormon" jokes!  Alan does a very delightful review (he wrote it next to me while I was sitting on the couch writing this, actually!) so I'm not going to re-hash it for you.  Needless to say, it was a grand old time.

After the play, Alan and I went to talk to Steven.  I gave him a hug and we "outted" ourselves to him.  He was so warm and receptive, and was so glad we came to the show.  I think he was genuinely pleased to know that we were all in the same boat.  Of course, I got an autograph and a photograph to remember the occasion.

25 Random Facts About Me

Someone tagged me in one of those things where you're supposed to post the same on your blog--except I like this one, because it's completely open-ended. It's just 25 random facts about you...

1.) I love my name and honestly can't imagine ever being called anything but Ezra Horne.

2.) I was a contestant on the Price is Right in 2008, and I won a week-long getaway to a lodge in Yosemite National Park.

3.) I've never been in a serious relationship.

4.) Whenever I'm stopped at a light, I often check out who's behind me in the review mirror and speculate about them.

5.) I've helped Jeff Probst (Survivor) and Gilles Marini (Sex and the City Movie) cheat at Scrabble against Seth Green (Robot Chicken) and Skeet Ulrich (Jericho) at a Charity Event.

6.) I didn't stop wetting the bed until I was 8 or 9.

7.) I've dressed in drag for at least two different plays.

8.) Though I love California and the good changes it's helped me to realize in my life, I miss New England a lot.

9.) When I walk by a homeless person on the street, I make sure I don't adjust my path--I want them to know that I don't fear them, and want them to think I'm not thinking less of them by acting as if they are infected. Though often I really am uncomfortable.

10.) I have an addictive personality.

11.) My mother doesn't like the Beatles, and I think that explains why I only really started to hear Beatles a lot when I got out of the house.

12.) I weighed 283 pounds at this time last year. I now am fluctuating around 263-266.

13.) My obesity causes me to feel undesirable, so much so that it overshadows my knowledge that I'm a really good guy with a lot to offer.

14.) I feel that In-N-Out Burger makes up for the fact that Pizza in Los Angeles is Sub-par.

15.) Secretly I want to be a stage actor again.

16.) In most situations when I'm bored, I will sing to myself, and I worry that it makes people afraid to approach me, and makes me seem crazy--but I hate holding the song inside.

17.) My office at work has a terrific view of the Hollywood Sign, but most of the time it's behind a blackout curtain. Whenever I look out at it though, I feel a little bit better about being where I am.

18.) When I was in Boy Scouts, I never advanced beyond the rank of Tenderfoot, though I was in the program for a good 3 years or more. Mostly because I didn't care about badges and rank--I just liked camping and hanging out with my friends.

19.) The prospect of going to a club is of zero interest for me, and mostly because I'm incredibly self conscious about my weight and lack of coordination.

20.) ...which is why I find sports and dancing to be incredibly scary. (Square dancing excepted.)

21.) I know how to square-dance.

22.) My siblings are the best I could ever ask for and I can't imagine life without them.

23.) I've owned 3 cars, and never paid more than 1,200 dollars for one of them.

24.) I scored a 1290 on my SATs, and part of me wanted to take it again because I knew I could break 1300, but I hated the test so much I said "it's good enough".

25.) I've lived in five different states: California, Massachusetts, Maine, Virginia and Utah. I consider Maine to be my "home state" and California will probably be the place I live the longest.


Hope you enjoyed that, it was rather difficult to come up with all those! Hope everyone is having a fantastic day.

The Follow-Up: More E-mails From Mother

I know some might be wondering what kind of follow-up e-mails I might have received from my mother. Since there has been a little back and forth, I'm just going to contextualize and share some highlights.

I did not respond to her initial message, since she had said "more to come". So eventually, on Monday the 19th, she wrote back [excerpt]:

I am sorry that you had to wait so long, and I feel I must have failed you in some way that you couldn't tell me sooner. I am sorry I didn't earn your faith and trust. I'm not perfect either!

Have you told your dad? Sarah? David? Katie? My mom? etc? You didn't say not to say anything, but I haven't and won't until you say it's ok. It's your life to decide who know and who doesn't. But I'd like to know... not that I'm going to call or write to any of them and 'talk' about you... but sometimes something like that comes up in a conversation, you know..'

And then there is [My seminary teacher] She's going to be devastated. She told me how she felt she'd be held accountable if she accepted Brandon [Her gay son] the way he is- which I guess is gay from what she said. But I don't agree, you raise up your children as best you can, and then they make their own choices, or go their own way, and you love them even if they become an ax murderer. But from what I gathered talking to her, she can't except him as he is. She didn't say this but the impression I got was he can't come home until he 'cleans up his act'. Sad.

Are you going to tell her?

Well, aside from receiving the same love as an ax-murderer, this e-mail was much more satifying and I think she just doesn't really get that the way she's describing her feelings can be taken in an offensive way.

I told her that she was the last to know, and that I had told my Young Men's leader back in Virginia a while back, but really I wasn't sure about telling anyone from church from my past, (not that I intend to hide, either). She has asked if my roommate was more than just a love interest, and I told her no, that I hoped she'd think I could do better than that--no offense to my roomie. She replied:

Well, actually I had hoped [he wasn't your boyfriend], but if I was wrong, I wouldn't want you to think I didn't like him, I do he's a nice guy... is he straight or gay? I assume he knows. Do you have a 'love interest'?

Then she offers some motherly advice, which I find a bit revealing about why she might have never been able to remarry...

And I'll tell you the same thing I would no matter what sex prefernce... Don't have sex lightly... I think... I know from hearing it, that masterbation is a big no-no, but I think 'self service is better than getting involved in a relationship based on lust. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you about STDs. A good rule of thumb in finding 'the one for you' is... make a list of the 10 things you must have... and the 10 things you just can't live with. For me I couldn't live with someone I can't talk with.. or who loves Country western Music or the Beatles..... and hates what I love in music... I can listen to some for a little bit, but I've got to have my stuff most of the time, I need someone who can love most of what I love... I'm sure that sounds shallow But you've got to know what you can live with. Someone who is never on time? always? mellow ? compulsive? honest? sloppy neatnic? Politically inline with you? etc.... if you can really make the two lists... and in talking to the person who you are interested, you can steer the conversation around to these topics with out being obvious...you have a better idea of if it can be a long term relationship...

And wrapping up one of her messages she reiterated

I am sorry you felt like I would have dissed you. I thought I had expressed that I loved you no matter what. you know... unconditionally......

I guess when I really think about it, I have a really wonderful mother. I hope she and I can become truly comfortable with everything. My prayers go out to the parents of all my fellow moho's who might not have as easy of a time with their folks. Good luck, it feels good to be "out".

CRASH!

I've been up since 4:30, when I was awoken by the sound of a woman screaming.

"Help, help us, somebody help!"

It was one of the most scary things I've ever heard. I jumped out of bed and ran to my window, opening it, trying to assess if it was safe to go investigate. My worst fear was that this woman was being attacked, or raped.

It was a car wreck. My roomate and I both ran out as his girlfriend dialed 911. "Grab the first aid kit", Joe reminded me. I ran out, and the pictures tell the tale. An SUV had hit a parked car flipped, and the passengers were trying to crawl out. Other men had gotten out just before and got the first woman pulled out. Coolant was on the ground, and radio music poured from the speakers.

I did not smell gas, thank God. I held the driver door open as a man who'd climbed up on top of the vehicle pulled the the four occupants out, one by one. I told the man on top to reach in and turn off the ignition and I turned off the headlights. Like I said, I didn't smell gas, but I didn't want to find out the hard way.

No one was badly injured. The driver had a cut on the bridge of his nose, and had blood in his mouth. I put on my latex gloves and wiped his blood off with gauze, then used alcohol to sterilize the cut that was visible. I wasn't sure what to do for the inside of his mouth. (He'd probably bitten down on his cheek or tongue when he impacted.) By that time, the fire department and the police showed up, and they took over. I was glad to have helped, and one officer even told me thanks for my help.

I don't really feel like I did anything major, but just having someone care for you in an incident like that probably was helpful in keeping him calm. I made him sit down while I cleaned him up.

Anyway, it's weird to think that my whole building ran out to help. Northridge hit Southern California at the same time of morning--I can only imagine what that must be like after an experience like this.

BTW, if you want to see the car being uprighted by the tow truck, click here.

Dear [You]

[You] are the only person I ever got excited about.
I used to ride my bike 8 miles just so I could drop in and say I was "in the neighborhood".
And I was excited to do it.

The first time [You] held me my heart fluttered, raced. My awkwardness gave way to comfort as minutes gave way to hours. You gently touched my face, softly exploring me, getting to know the terrain with your touch.

I've never been in love--the closest to it was [You]. Your smile, your body, your attitude all made me want to change to become more for you--to make you feel the same way about me as I felt about [You].

But I didn't, and I won't, and I can't. I know I shouldn't change, I need to find someone who really likes me for me. But I'll be damned if I don't think about [You] whenever I'm alone, even now.

I've dated several guys since you, and none have come close to the wonder and simple joy I felt just innocently holding your body against mine.

If there was something I could do to win [You] back, I'd do it in heart beat.

But you can't win back what you never really had...

I miss [You].

//apologies to Chedner for using his [Him] concept//

The Difference Between Courage And Cowardice

While in therapy yesterday, I was explaining that since coming out, I've become more active and vocal regarding GLBT issues, because I feel it's my duty.  It would be selfish and irresponsible for me to let others do all the work for my equality, freedom and dignity.

But I never wanted to be a fighter.  I never wanted to have to stand up and defend myself.  I never wanted to make a statement.  I just wanted to live my life according to the dictates of my own conscience and be done with it.

"But", I said, "I force myself to do the things that I'm afraid of.  Because it's only by facing them that I can overcome the fear, and move towards being truly comfortable and at peace.  I guess that's the difference--".  At this point, a little switch clicked in my head.  I started crying. I paused as I let the words that were on the tip of my tongue roll around in my mind. "--the difference between a coward and and a courageous man, is action."

My therapist smiled--she saw the door opening, just a crack--and light of truth flooding around the frame.  I smiled, too.

"I know that both the coward and the courageous man are scared shitless--but the courageous man does what is right and true anyway."

I laughed and looked to my therapist. "So why don't I believe it?"

Emotionally Heightened

This morning as I was driving into work, I was listening to NPR.  They were doing a whole series of stories about Barack Obama and the activities and stories leading up to the inauguration tomorrow.

They started off with a story talking about how Barack Obama was taking today to visit people thank them for their service, and asked all Americans to take MLK Day as an opportunity to re-dedicate themselves to service.  This touched me, because just the other day I had decided to look into reading to children as a way to give back to the community.

Then they went on to report that Tuskegee Airmen (African-American fighter pilots from WWII) across America had been invited to have front row seats at the inauguration.  These men had been placed into a program that was designed to fail--they wanted to "prove" that African-Americans were incapable of piloting planes.  But they fought hard, and won the respect of many.

The man they interviewed had flown over 140 missions in WWII, and when he returned home to Los Angeles, he faced discrimination in his efforts to procure a home.  But he persisted, eventually becoming the cities first African-American realtors.  He's old and frail now, but listening to this man speak, I became overwhelmed with love and gratitude and joy for him.

I was driving southbound on the 101, heading into work, tears pouring down my cheeks.

He had to fight his entire life to get things that most people took for granted--but he stood his ground, loved his country and served others.  And thanks to sacrifices of thousands of men and women of all creeds and colors, we're going to be swearing in an African-American President.

I'm beaming with pride because I feel really optimistic about Obama.  Sure, he's just a man, and undoubtedly will make mistakes.  But he seems genuinely interested in listening to both sides of each issue and making the choice that he feels is best for the nation.  And most important of all, he's bringing America hope--hope that "Yes, We Can" build a better tomorrow.  And in the end, as Harvey Milk said, "you gotta give 'em hope".

Of course, I was immediately drawing parallels to the struggles the GLBT community.  When I consider how dramatically the world has changed in the last 60 years, I realize that I need to relax--we are on the right side of history, and I pray that before I'm an old man our nation will have learned to treat all it's citizens with dignity and respect.  That we will not be judged by the gender of our spouses, but by the content of our love.   That our nation will live up to the promises of it's most holy writ--the bill of rights. 

Yesterday, I passed the Hollywood Lutheran Church.  They had a huge banner outside their beautiful sanctuary that proclaimed their "No on 8" stance, and that they would continue to fight for marriage equality.   I pray that the first and most sacred amendment to our constitution, which proclaims that "congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof" will finally be respected.  Here is a church that welcomes, supports, and marries gay and lesbian couples--yet the force of law prevents them from having their unions treated equally under the law.

Anyway, I have been moved to tears multiple times today, and it's time I get back to work.

I'm very excited for tomorrow, and for the future in general.

And Here's The Response

So this is the response:

Hi Sweetheart, this will be short because the computer keeps crashing every few minutes...
I'm glad you told me and that you are at peace with yourself. Does that mean Joe is more than a roomie? Just wondered. Anyway... Gotta end before it crashes again... will get back to you. Just didn't want you to wonder if I'd gotten this.
Love Mom

No mention that nothing has changed. No mention of support or rejection. And considering my mom is online ALL THE TIME, this seems a pretty weird/lame excuse. She could call me, I even suggested it in a PS on my original e-mail (which I left off of the previous post).

She hasn't called. The two people in my family who've had the least to say about my coming out have been the two that are still most deeply entrenched in the church. I know that this is because they are following the adage "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all". I realize she will need time to process, but I know that the reason she can't be immediately responsive is because she can't lie to herself or to me and tell me she's okay or that she supports me and that "nothing has changed"... because stuff has changed. I just threw a major kink into her vision for her children's future. And as an active memeber, she probably believes that my sexuality is a choice, or something she did wrong that caused it.

Frankly, (and it's going to sound cold to say this) I'm not going to let my mother worry me. I've extended my arms open to keep her a part of my life as I move into this new direction, and at this point the ball is in her court. She can either shoot the hoop or walk away. Who knows that that means, but the point remains. It's in her hands now.

I am sad she didn't call me, and I'm worried for what she might say in a longer e-mail.

Yikes.

Anyway, I'm lonely again on a Saturday night. *sigh*

The Letter's In The Mail

So I just hit send on my message to my mom. I felt like sharing it.

--------

Hey Mom,

I realize that it's been a long time since I wrote you a message of any major substance, but to be perfectly honest, I haven't really felt like talking to you much ever since you failed my litmus test.

You see, way back when I posted to my blog about the church's direct involvement with politics here in California, you responded by calling me a rebellious teenager, dismissed my questions and my invitation to discussion and understanding. I call this a litmus test because I've been filled with dread at the prospect of telling you something important.

I'm gay.

That's right, I like guys. I've known since I can remember, but I ran from it, fought it, prayed for it to go away, to change, so that I could be a good little Mormon and marry in the temple and go on a mission, but God has not seen fit to heal me.

I think that's because I'm not sick.

I've spent the best years of my life hiding, and being ashamed, and I'm not going to hide anymore. I'm slowly coming to accept and be at peace with myself as I am, and I hope you too can be at peace knowing that I love you and want you to be a part of my life.

I want to make it clear to you that this isn't anyone's "fault". You did the best you could raising all of your children--and I'm very blessed to have been sent to this earth to be in your care. I think of all the amazing things I was able to accomplish because of your unconditional love and support--my TV show, my radio show, plays, activities, etc. All because you chose to be a full-time mom.

You probably understand, better than most, the pain I've gone through in my life--you too had a vision of how your life was "supposed" to play out--you'd be married to a man for time and all eternity and raise many beautiful children who'd serve missions and have families--etc. And yet, something outside of your control sent you down a different path. I too grew up firmly believing that I should go on a mission, marry a woman in the temple, and have many children--and I really wanted that. But something outside of my control has sent me down a different path.

I wanted to tell you this in person, but I don't know how long it might be before I see you in person again, and I am tired of waiting to tell you.

Your loving son,

Ezra

The Depths Of Confusion

If I could express to you the level of personal dismay and confusion I feel, I would probably have a book deal, because it would take the eloquence of someone like Thoreau or Hemingway to convey the thoughts I've got bouncing around in my head.

This weekend, I'm planning to hit "send" on an e-mail that I've drafted (the first part was written almost 4 months ago, and finished Sunday night.) to my mother.  It's my coming out e-mail, and she's really the last person who really matters to me who doesn't know.

Big deal, right?  You've already come out to everyone else, you're no longer living a lie, you've already been out of the church proper since September, so what?

I've been thinking something really scary and horrible and it frightens me almost as much as the realization and fear of being gay--that maybe I'm bisexual/straight.

If I were to venture a guess, I'm probably a 4 on the Kinsey Scale, "Predominantly homosexual, but more than incidentally heterosexual".  Without getting into too much detail, since I've "come out" and had some experience with male physical intimacy, I've found that I'm EXTREMELY picky when it comes to who I find attractive.  So what? 

Well, I can't look past the physical--I am extremely shallow for being a fat ass who's lucky to get anyone giving him the time of day.  The guys I'm interested in are all white, clean cut and slender.  I guess you could say I like twinks, though I don't really go for labels.  I don't like effeminate guys, but I don't like overly "masc" guys either... I guess I just want someone like me--a nice guy who doesn't know anything about sports, but doesn't have an obsession with pop stars like Beyonce (not that there is anything wrong with either).  So there's this tiny tiny window of what I'm actually attracted to, and everyone else I could care less about.

Well, when I've been in physical moments with guys I've dated, each time my desire for their physical body decreases very quickly, because they aren't what I'm looking for.  But I've probably got this "ideal" guy in my head that I'll never get or find, and so I'll never be able to have it... how is that different from trying to live in celibacy in the gospel?  I don't know.

The thing is, I don't know how to explain this without sounding perverse or rude. Frankly Mohos never seem to mention the sexual aspects of their attraction, (because we're all Mormon, and that stuff is taboo even in the hetero world).  

So if discussing gay sex is a bit uncomfortable for you, I'd advise moving on to the next blog where everything is talked about euphemistically, if at all.

I don't desire cock.  At least not the way it seems most (non-religious) gay people do.   For example, if  you're a red-blooded hetero male and you see a nice pair of breasts on someone whose face is "meh", you might still desire those luscious melons.  Well, when I'm in the gym and I see a nice penis, it doesn't arouse me, and I don't desire to play with it or anything like that.

I don't fantasize about giving or getting anal sex.  I don't get aroused at the thought of giving a blowjob--although getting one? Sure, but then again, most men, straight or gay enjoy getting one.

I am not disgusted or repulsed by women.  I could easily keep it up for a woman and probably have a fun roll in the hay--but I don't admire women in the same way.

Lately I've been feeling decidedly sexually ambivalent, and somewhat confused about it.  The fear lies in that if I'm bisexual, or even remotely hetero, then couldn't it be possible that I could someday find a woman I really love, physically and emotionally, and then live the path that the Mormon Church proscribes?  It's why I'm terrified of coming out publicly--once you're "out of the closet" it's basically impossible to go back on your word.

My roommate's girlfriend confided in him that she "doesn't think I'm really gay".  She has a lot of gay friends, both flamboyant and "straight-acting", and it bothers me that she could think that in a way.  My older sister also questioned me when I came out, saying that maybe I was Bi--all her best friends are gay, and she just couldn't believe it.

I'm rambling now.  I know this is all retarded--of course I'm gay.  I watch gay pornography, I date men, I abandoned my church and am venturing into the unknown, with only my fellow bloggers for a community now.  But it scares the hell out of me to think that if maybe I am changing, or healing, or was just confused--or if I'm bi, then that means I can "choose" to find a woman over a man, and live a "normal" Mormon life with a wife and kids.

I know that I'm just scared and confused and that the reason I don't feel much physical desire for men is because I've not found a man whom I'm attracted to both physically and intellectually, and I know that I need that--my sexual desire spawns from a desire to make the person I care about feel good, and to show my love for them--not because I'm all hot for cock.

Bah, sorry for this post.  I realize it's a terribly disorganized jumble of angst and confusion, but I suppose that's the only way to convey how mixed up I feel.  I've started to write three posts in the last three days but I never finish them, so I just jumbled them all together and got them out the door for you.

I suppose I'll be sending that e-mail late tonight... wish me luck. 

Have a great weekend.

May 23rd, 2001

And the bottom dropped out.

Dear Journal,

Today was another “bad day” in my effort, or lack thereof. I felt so worthless. I didn’t get anything done. Sometimes I wish I were dead, but I think that right now I’d go to hell, so either here or there is pain. There’s no escape. Ezra Horne.

This entry is so brief, and yet it's wording so intense that it makes me uncomfortable in many ways. I wish I could go back, I wish I could sit down with myself and set the record straight, but I can't.

It's so frustrating to thing of all the years I wasted feeling guilty and shameful--all of which was so draining, instead of focusing on service, helping others, and other self improvement. And yet, sometimes I feel like that is how I'm supposed to see it, and I've just been won over by evil...

May 22nd, 2001

Wow, I was a horny little kid.

Dear Journal,

Really bad low today.  5 m’s or more, not sure.  Anyway, Mr. M., my science teacher is in Boston for surgery so he won’t be back this year.  It’s too bad.  I’ve been listening to the tape of the 5/18/01 radio show.  I really like it.  Anyway, I did my homework and looked at my movie’s “What?!?!” script.  I realized that it’s really funny.  I am going to finish it before I leave.  BTW, Rosebud is Kane’s sled!  Ezra Horne.

Nice to see I had a sense of humor in spite of my crippling shame.

May 21st, 2001

But I could only go two days.  It makes me cringe--I couldn't even write the words.

Dear Journal,

Today I had a major setback-recession if you will.  After a weekend of abstention, I did two P’s and 4 m’s—oh man, this is not cool at all.  I read an article in the newest issue of The New Era, and there was a short article on passing the sacrament by.  It made me feel funny because I have to do that.  Hopefully I’ll have the courage to talk to the Bishop about my other problem. [gay pornography/being gay] I love Jesus Christ and his plan of repentance.  It lets me make mistakes without condemning me forever.  Goodnight.  Ezra Horne.

No, but I condemned myself.

Graphs Are Cool

I love graphs. And this one makes me particularly happy. I love that blogging about being gay and mormon is clearly at least twice as fascinating as my "regular life" which is discussed on my other blog, Ezra's Ramblings.

May 20th, 2001

The next day was successful and productive.

Dear Journal,

We went to church today and made the other batch of ice cream. I cleaned the spice cupboards, the cans area and the “snack rack”, as well as helped my brother make the gardens all afternoon. We lined the patches with bricks and/or the giant Lincoln logs and then put seeds in and mulched the area. We also fixed the steps that had gotten broken and planted a lilac bush. Anyway, I am confused about my math work, so I’m gonna try again tomorrow morning. Well, it’s 10:14, so I gotta go—it’s been 48 hours or more! Night! Ezra Horne.

“I will not drown in shallow waters”

I was so proud of myself.

May 19th, 2001

Over the next couple days, I'll be posting A short series of journal entries from May of 2001.

Dear Journal,

Today was mostly all work.  We roto-tilled the garden and planted potatoes and cleaned the downstairs, and I went all day today!  Tomorrow’s Sunday and we’re gonna go to church.  We made cakes and homemade vanilla ice cream.  I don’t wanna say much today—goodnight.  Ezra Horne.

More to come.

Crying Coward

I like crying.

It's weird, but I almost feel good while I'm crying.  It doesn't matter the reason--I could be crying tears of joy or pain or sadness--but I don't want to stop.

When I told my third Bishop (the one who actually cared and worked with me) that I was gay, I cried.  And after I left his office, I went into an empty classroom in the Cambridge Ward building, and cried my eyes out.  I sat in a corner, and I let it all out.  I didn't want to stop.  The emotional release was so powerful that I'll never forget it.

The heaving, the sobbing, the blowing the nose.  I love it.  I love watching movies that make me cry.  I cry at the end of October Sky, I cry during scenes in Into The Wild, I cry when I realize that the life I always dreamed about would never be mine.

Yesterday, (as noted in the previous post) I cried during therapy.  I don't remember exactly how we got onto this topic, but I told her that I didn't deserve to have the boyfriend I desired, that I didn't deserve good things.  She responded "Why do you think you don't deserve good things?"

And the tears started to well up.

Just writing that question, "Why don't you deserve good things?" is making my eyes wet again.

I couldn't give her an answer for a long time.  Eventually I concluded that the reason I don't deserve good things is because I'm too foul, too ugly, too sinful and lazy to be blessed.  I have it so easy, so many gifts and so many wonderful, loving people in my life, and yet I accomplish nothing.   So many others, with the weight of the whole world on their backs, great men and women have scarified and dragged themselves up from the bottom.  Yet I remain content with the middle.

I am a coward.

Time after time I kept coming back to the word coward.  I struggled to justify why I felt this way, but couldn't find the reasons--I just feel like a tiny little man, who's so broken and lonely that his true potential is lost.

Dammit.  I'm at work on my lunch break, and I've got tears rolling down my cheeks. F**k.

I received my Patriarchal blessing in the fall of 2007.  I had been working with my Bishop to become worthy to receive it for several months.   The day I got it was one of the most powerful spiritual experiences of my life.  And my blessing said this "There will be individuals in distant parts of the world who will speak your name with reverence even though they may have never met you because of what you have done to assist them to understand to gospel of Jesus Christ."

I've always felt that my purpose on this earth was so great, so important--that I would change the world.  It's my destiny.  I knew this since I was a kid.

But I don't see how someone so broken can fix anything.

I'm not even really a Mormon anymore--how can some ex-mormon faggot sinner teach anyone anything about the gospel of Jesus Christ?

I have to stop.

I have to get back to work.

I have to force myself to go on pretending that I know what I'm doing.

Wow

I cried in therapy yesterday.

Moho Comradrie - Reflections after the New Years Party

Last night I attended the Moho New Years party at Scott and Sarah's.  As indicated by my previous post, I was apprehensive about how the evening would go.   When I arrived, it took me a little while open up and get comfortable. Of course, one thing about a party full of Mormons is that we don't have the social lubricants used by most of society...

But things started to flow, and I met some wonderful people.  I would list them, but I wouldn't want to list names without permission.  Needless to say, everyone was really amazing, friendly, and fun.

After some delicious food and conversation, the karaoke came out, and I sang showtunes and James Taylor and more with D. from "No Day But Today", and though I couldn't always hit the highest notes, I still thoroughly enjoyed myself--I should go to a karaoke place sometime.

After we rang in 2009 with sparkling cider/juices and a toast to our host, we settled in to a game of Catch Phrase.  I thoroughly enjoyed this--some of the highlights included one of Scott's boys saying "it's something you hang up at christmas", and accepting the answer "Holly Berry", when the phrase he'd been reading was actually "Halle Barry"; and a clue to get "gizmo"--"It sounds like that prison in Cuba".  Hilarious times.

I was graciously allowed to spend the night since I had 4+ hour drive back to St. George.  Alan from Scrum Central was also staying, and I was privileged to share some thoughts and feelings about the church and my life path.  Having the opportunity to discuss things with someone who understands the intellectual and spiritual perspective with out translation was so cathartic--I'm sure I'll enjoy discussing it with my therapist on Monday.  

One of the things that's interesting is that Alan has kids, and part of me is incredibly jealous that he has a family, something I've always wanted and continue to want.  Yet, he is jealous of me, and my coming to terms with myself at a young enough age that I'm able to choose a path o my own.  The grass is always greener on the other side?  Well, frankly, it all sucks, but we manage to make it work.

We must remember that the situations in which we are placed are exactly what we need to experience to grow into the person that God has in mind for us.  If was placed into Alan's situation, I might not be able to handle it, I might snap--but the converse is also true--Alan wouldn't necessary be the man he has become had his situation been different.

In the end, I am so blessed to have been able to attend.  On my drive home, I reflected on how far I've come, what I've learned, how much I've changed, and overall--how happy and at peace I feel.

It was an amazing moment, and as I drove home thinking fondly of all my new friends, the sun setting on the first day of a new year spoke to me so feircely that I pulled over and took this photo stitch.

Here's to a new year of beauty, happiness, and joy.

PS:  I thought some of you fellas were really cute... you probably know who you are... :)