Moho Halloween!

As many of you know, I went to Salt Lake City and visited with all my moho blogger friends. It was so wonderful and I had some great experiences.

Most of you were at the party, and know it was a nice time with lots of socialization and some great costumes. It was a really good time, but many of my readers were there, so I'm going to skip to the "after party" if you will... haha!

After the Moho party and Scott's house, Canyon, his friend C. and I went to this club in SLC to get a drink and dance a bit. It seems a little weird to think about gay bars in Salt Lake City, but I'm glad they exist—the immediate difference I noticed was that this place was practically empty, whereas on halloween night gay bars in LA are twice as packed as normal!

We went to the bar, and the 'tender said all they serve is beer (probably a result of SLC's ridiculous liquor laws). Canyon hates beer, and our very attentive bartender offered to make us "samples" of different beers with juice mixed in. So we took him up on the offer, and he made us three samples. I tried the first one, which tasted like cranberry juice. He told me it was called "Cranberry Summer Breeze" (which he said with a playful lisp) and I laughed, it was actually really good--cranberry juice, soda water and michelob. So I got that. There were two others, one with OJ and another with Lemonade (Canyon got the lemonade one, which was humorously entitled "Lemon Especiale" I gave him a good tip, and we went out to the patio to get away from the music and talk some.

Now, a patio in November (it was technically novemeber at this point) in SLC is not very warm. So we were not super comfortable, but it was the only way to have a conversation. So we talked for a while, and this guy in a tunic, who appears to be working for the bar comes over and checks on us, and he seems to be hitting on me, touching my shoulder, talking to me more than the others... it was nice. He wasn't exactly my type, but it's always nice to get hit on (which never happens in LA)

Another bartender was dressed like a Swat Team style police officer (complete with REAL taser) and we talked to him for quite a bit--he was really cute and very friendly. I was just taken aback at how much friendlier everyone seemed the whole night!

After we finished our drinks and went inside to dance for a bit, I ended up dancing with this guy in red strapless dress with a blonde wig who called himself "Alexis"--I couldn't figure out if he was just being cute to complete a costume for halloween, or if he really was a cross dresser. He was cute, and very friendly and we talked a bit during some of the dancing, as the club was getting emptier and emptier... near the end it was just me, Canyon and Alexis on the dance floor "they're all just so intimidated by us" I quipped.

So Alexis took off, and I was going into exhaustion since I was going on about 22 hours being awake (and traveling, which is always tiring.) and so we were heading out. But we stopped to ask one of the other employees who was sweeping up (he was also in a tunic) is it was true that they showed "Glee" here on Wednesday nights. He confirmed it, then turned to me and said "Can I rub your belly?"

I just about lost it laughing.

"Sure" I said, and he started rubbing my belly and said "That's hot". I asked him if he liked chubby guys and he said yeah. So I gave him a hug and told him that if I wasn't sharing a room with three other people that night, I'm might have taken him home with me.

Anyway, we went home (The three of us were all crashing at Scott's house) and just as I was about to finally get in bed and rest, I reached for the lamp in the basement where I was sleeping, and knocked it over in the dark. The moment between when I knocked it and it hitting the ground is vivid. I blurted out "OH MY GOD" at full volume, which was punctuated by a resounding CRASH as the glass around the lamp shattered all accross the basement floor (and me in stocking feet).

Needless to say, I basically woke up the entire household. The Alan Westermark and his son (both in from San Diego with an early morning departure) were awoken, as was Sarah. I was so embarressed, and not because I broke the lamp, but because it was 3am and I'd just woken everyone up after a very very long day. Sigh.

Everyone was very cool, C. helped me quietly clean up the glass in the dark (I only got cut once!) and then we talked quietly before hitting the hay.

The next day, I was picked up by Marcus and he took me to Brunch with a bunch of people from the party. Robert, Brandon, Michael R., Michael W., McKay, and, Marcus and I went to Market Street Grille, and I had my first Mojito. It was actually really good, I enjoyed it.

After that we went geocaching which was fun, and then we went back to the Michael's apartment and played Catch Phrase. I napped for a while, and then we made dinner (Just me and the two Michaels, as others had to leave)

All the guys made me feel so welcome in Salt Lake. It almost makes me want to move up there so I can be a full time part of this awesome gang. Sadly, I don't think that's reason enough—I've got to build Moho Zion right here in LA!

So that was essentially my trip. A lot of fun. I'm sorry if I rambled on incessantly with every mundane detail, but I really enjoyed myself, and figured I'd share with you.

I'm really excited for the next two months--this is a great time of year (aside from the darkness) because it's so busy and I can keep myself distracted from how much I want a boyfriend! HAHA.

Also, stay tuned for an important post tomorrow...

Lovesick

I took a trip east this last week. It was incredible. I visited Maine, Boston, and New York City. I ate amazing food, like good EAST COAST PIZZA tried wine, oysters, scallops, a whole fish, a shot. I saw my sister, my best friends, old acquaintances and haunts.

It was a bittersweet trip, the joy of the reunion, only to be met with the sorrow of departure soon after.

While in New York, I met up with Paul, who is this guy I met up with back in August. He's super sweet and thoughtful and hot, and he's into me back... so that's what makes it all the more frustrating that he has just started figuring out his sexuality. He's 29 and just testing the waters of his bisexuality, and so even if I did live close to him, there's a good chance it wouldn't work out properly. Sigh.

I need to just snap out of it.

But for the first time since coming out, the first time since Seth, I feel like I've met someone who excites me, who makes it hard for me to stop thinking about them. He makes me disinterested in searching for companionship elsewhere. Because I want to make it work with him.

But I'm not a fool—I understand that I'm just in love with the possibilities. I'm infatuated with his body. I'm sure there of plenty of guys who are not attractive to me who are better matches emotionally and spiritually and intellectually, but I never give them a chance because the attraction is not there... this whole thing is frustrating.

Anyway, I'll talk to you all more later,

Peace.

Depressed

I was really depressed last night. I couldn't get a hold of anyone.

That's when I feel the worst. Totally alone.

At least I was blessed with a dream that I had someone cute and nice with which to share my bed.

That's all it'll ever be though. I'm too settled, self deprecating and conservative to earn the love of another.

San Francisco, Affirmation, Old Friends and a Model A Ford

Apologies to those who have been waiting for my feedback on this last weekend in San Francisco (I'm looking at you, Alan) This weekend I took a very short trip up to San Francisco for the 1st ever Affirmation Young Adult Cornerstone Conference. The conference was sparsely attended, but the small group made it feel more like a small ward activity than a big "conference". Which was nice. I think since it was the first time they'd ever had this event, coupled with the simple fact that most young people can't afford to go to San Francisco for the weekend. That's why all the attendees were from the Bay Area except me, Christian and his friend Max.

Christian is pictured here to the left. He is transgendered, and was born biologically female, and has been on hormones since April. I really enjoyed meeting him and getting to hear his story. I'd never met a transgendered Moho before and it was incredible. Interestingly, I still would occasionally refer to Christian as she--it annoyed me, because I support him and his dicisions, but knowing what I knew about his current physical state (pre-op) I would still mentally default to saying "she". I hope I didn't offend, as Christian was a cool person, and as the Bishop's kid in Orange County, I know his path is undoubtedly more difficult than mine.

The conference was fun and I sort of wish I had more time to get the stories of the attendees. I picked up peices between the seminars and talks about political activism and safe sex. But unfortunately, I just didn't get the time. We went on a walking tour of the Castro, which basically consisted of talking about which bars where for what and who goes where and has the best drinks or dancing. It made me feel a little out of the loop. I have gone dancing, but I still don't think clubbing tops my list of things to do on any given night. I still don't drink and frankly haven't more than a fleeting interest in starting. So once again, I was the minority, the guy who was recently out, single and insecure.

It is frustrating, because I'm working my hardest to find out why I'm still so goddamn uncomfortable with myself. My therapist and I are try to get to the root of it. I've got it boiled down the this, at least in my head--I don't deserve happiness. And I'm firmly of the belief that I'll never have it. It can't possibly sound any more emo and self-defeating, but that's the truth. And this blog is about the truth. I look at a couple like Austin and Todd, and I get nauseated. I feel sick to my stomach, knowing that the happiness and joy they've found in each other is never going to be found in my heart.

Don't get my wrong, I'm extremely happy for them--I know they will succeed as a couple. My envy is all encompassing. They are a hot couple, both extremely good looking and thin, which I'll never be. They seem to have given each other their whole heart, which embodies itself in the playfulness of their relationship. As it has been for my whole life, I'm controlled by fear. Despite my best efforts, every date I go on, I feel nothing, every time I look in the mirror and see the fat fuck staring back at me, I know I'll never earn the love and attraction I want, every day that I'm alone, I get more and more ready to give up.

I am sorry this post rapidly became depressing before I even knew what was happening.

I'll have to blog more on this later. To move on, Alan picked me up in his car in the Castro--I joked with him that I never expected to get picked up by an older man in a black car in the Castro..." Hahaha. We went to Grace Cathederal, which no pictures I took do justice. There was a wedding, and I got to hear some music of the choir.

Outside, I encountered this dashing gentleman, and knew I had to have a photo:

He pleasantly obliged, and I sent this photo to my mother, who loves the Scots. She also commented that she thought he was handsome--he is!

After Grace, Alan and I drove down through Golden Gate Park, and then to the 280 south to Woodside (Steve Jobs has a home in this area) up Route 84 to "Alice's Restaurant" (Yes, Arlo Guthrie's Alice's Restaurant.) We had dinner with my adopted Mom, Patty Mayall. Alan, Patty and I had a delightful dinner, laughing and talking about a myriad of subjects, before going back to Patty's to have apple pie.

For those who want backstory--Patty and I met at Mortified San Francisco back in April. Have you ever met someone who totally clicks with you and you feel like you've known them your whole life? It's a rare occurrence, but Patty and I were fast friends. And in the short time we were together, we felt comfortable enough to share phone numbers and e-mails, and she extended the invite to stay with her any time I was in the bay area.

So I took her up on the offer. And as we sat at the table talking, it was chilly and I put my arm around her, hugged her. It was very fun, and made me realize how much I miss my real mom, who is still in Virginia. I hope this doesn't make her jealous. My real mom (ToniAnne) and I will often go out to restaurants and sit across the table from each other and hold hands. It's fun, and makes my mom feel so loved and special--and she is both.

So Patty, my surrogate mom, was so appreciative--she's never had children of her own, and I think she really feels as blessed to know me as I do to know her. It's magic. She and her husband Ted are both going to be invited to my wedding (if I ever have one)

The next day, we got to do one of the coolest things I've ever done--easily the highlight of the weekend. We got to drive around the San Mateo Mountains in a 1928 Model A Ford!

Ted gases up the Ford before we begin our sojourn. The engine is gravity fed, meaning that the gas tank must be above the engine--which is why it's BEHIND THE DASHBOARD--basically your riding with 10 gallons of gasoline in your lap.

Here's the hood ornament. Classy! This car can go up to about 50 MPH (on a flat level stretch) and maybe 35-40 up any decent grade. It's a 3 speed flat cut gear manual transmission. It can get between 15-22 mpg. I got to ride in the rumble seat for most of the journey (no seatbelts) and consequently a rocking good time.

And then I got to DRIVE IT!!! This was kind of incredible, and as you can see I was giddy and grinning like the Cheshire cat the entire time. The car has an incredible amount of play in the steering, and it really felt not completely unlike driving the Antique Cars rides at any theme park. You could turn the wheel about a quarter turn before getting any response from the tires. It made driving a very conscious activity. This was real motoring. Oh, and no power brakes either... you're stopping the car with the force of your own foot.

When we finally got to San Gregario, we posed for a picture (me with my new hat I'd just bought).

I took the liberty of correcting and photoshopping this picture to the left to give it a historical and authentic look. Sigh, I want to own a car like this--but only if I've got a cool place to drive it like the winding country roads of the San Mateo Mountains.

In short, it was a fantastic weekend, with lots of new experiences, new friends, and fun. I'm an incredibly lucky guy, even if I don't understand why.

Some Great Advice From Craigslist

I found this on craigslist many months ago, and it's some of the most simple and good dating advice I've ever read. Who'd have thought? Mind you, easier said than done, but hey--you gotta try!

(this advice was originally given with reference to a girl, but I've gone through for convenience and changed it to a guy.)

----

You need to cultivate and exude SELF-POSSESSION.

You must have the attitude that you know you're okay, desirable, etc, regardless of how anyone else responds to you. So, you do not NEED to get a positive response from anyone else. Not arrogant, just independent. This makes you cheerful and thankful.

You are free to show that you ENJOY other people and APPRECIATE them, because you are not afraid that they will reject you.

The natural attitude of a self-possessed winner is to be PLAYFUL.

This not only reflects your independent self-confidence, but also that you appreciate how fortunate you are, etc. Having a playful attitude is appealing to others, and it's an enjoyable way for you to go through your day - it's a victory in itself.

It might help you if you were to imagine how you might interact with a very desirable guy you just happened to meet out in public, if you were already deep into a great relationship with some other amazing guy, and there was no way you want to start dating this guy you just met.

Your mentality would be:

"This is probably the only time I will see this guy or talk to him, so the only thing to do is just enjoy these few minutes for the inherent reward of our little chat now. I don't want or need anything from this guy, because I'm already getting plenty of it from someone else. I can just enjoy this new guy's personality, his smile, etc, right now. No need to be impressive, no need to fear his disapproval of something I say, etc. I can just enjoy being myself, a happy guy who appreciates other people. Hmm, he's interesting, so I'll ask him about him - opinions, etc. If I just talk about me, I don't find out anything I didn't already know."

That's about it from me. Like I said, other responses were very helpful.

I hope mine is helpful to someone...

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I really like this advice--hopefully it helps you too.

August 18th, 2007

Dear Journal,

It’s strange to even think about it. I am in love/have a crush. Let me rewind and explain.

Seth contacted me on Couchsurfing.com. He’s a 22 year old filmmaker from NY. Probably one of the most amazing spirits I’ve encountered in a long time. When he arrived, we walked and talked and I started to realize that he acted and talked the way I used to. Excited, full of life, friendly. We were joined by Nick, (the other person I’ve met this summer.) and we went to Sand Hollow Resevoir. We all played and splashed in the water and had a great time. We swam out to the island in the resevoir and jumped into the water.

There was one place where it was 17-20 jump into the water! It was an adrenaline rushing experience.

Anyway, because Kim was staying with us too, Seth slept in my room and we stayed up late (til 4am) talking about everything. Religion, politics, film, sexuality, etc. He is a gay Christian. We talk about what that was like. I lied and pretended I was straight. But when he left Friday morning I felt an emptiness inside. I’ve never felt this sad, even when leaving my best friends or family behind. This was a new experience that I’ve never encountered before. A new sensation. I couldn’t get anything done at work, I just kept thinking about him. How he’d burst into snippets of song, how he’d look me in the eye and smile when talking to me. Everyone loved him—Steven, Kim, David, Nick. He’s everything I wish I was. Smart, winning personality, great heart, openly gay but still maintains Christian beliefs. He’s athletic, thin and beautiful. He’s not like some waxed porno star—he had a hairy chest, but he’s tall and thin. Beautiful both inside and out.

This is so frustrating. I want to just tell him how I feel, give up on trying to “fix” my sexuality and be with someone like Seth. He’s exactly the type of person I’d like to spend the rest of my life with. I didn’t want him to leave and for the last two days I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. I talked to Dad about it today, and that was nice, to have someone to share my feelings with. Just knowing how non-judgemental my father is has been good for our relationship.

I think the most frustrating thing of all is that even if I were to embrace homosexuality and tell Seth how I really feel, he’d probably be disgusted with me for lying to him and basically working to be straight, and he probably feels nothing for me. I’m fat and ugly and he’s an attractive gay male. He could get any guy he wants. Why would he want some emotionally scarred closet case fatso?

Or maybe he felt the connection too. But probably not, since I told him I’m straight, so he probably never even considered it. But oh, how I wish he did.

I am scared for my mental health because I’m starting to act like Joe Collesano, when he was projecting himself into relationships that didn’t exist. I wish we could watch a movie together, relaxing on the couch, holding each other in our arms… but it’s a stupid thought, and my mind knows this, but my heart aches/longs/pines for his companionship again.

But he’d never be attracted to me because I’m a coward—I’ve hid from myself and who I am for so long. I want to abandon the Mormon Church. When I talk to Dad, his beliefs are so clean and based on love. I want to feel happy from inside, and I can’t feel that right now living the way I’m living. God will give us no burden that we can’t handle.—but maybe it has to be handled differently. Do I have to bear my homosexuality for the rest of my life? Can’t I have someone in my life to cuddle and love?

I’m starting to repeat myself, but needless to say, I’m missing Seth a lot, even though I only met him for a few hours. There’s a special connection (at least with me.) and I just e-mailed him about it tonight (about having a “connection”) I’m nervous to see what he says. I just can’t get over the way he’d smile. Such a beautiful smile, like he really liked me and cared about what I was saying.

When he left, I gave him a “hug/shake” where you shake hands and then pull the other person in for a pat on the back. I wish I could have gotten a real hug. I liked getting a hug from him. *sigh* I’ve been sighing a lot in the last two days.

Well, I should move on from talking about Seth.

On Saturday, (today) I met up with Aaron (from Harrisonburg, VA) who’s going to Dixie State. I went to Sand Hollow with him and his two new girlfriends, Liza (from Hawaii) and Mandy (from Colorado) we had a great time splashing and diving into the rocks. Now I’m home and our four couchsurfers are here. Norah, Estelle, Lorenzo, and Angela. They are Tufts students road-tripping back to Boston (well, Sommerville) over like 3 weeks. They all seem really nice and they’re headed to Zion National Park tomorrow to hike Angel’s Landing. I should probably wrap this up, I’ve been writing for 45 minutes.

Successful Weekend

Hey Friends,

So I thought I'd supplement today's meager entry in my "journal" series with more recent affairs.

Michael Jackon's death caused me to to rediscover his amazing music and I'd been listening to "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" and other hits practically non-stop. Well, Friday night I found myself done with work at 6pm. So I hit the gym, and pushed myself to do my "normal" 35 minutes on the elliptical. (I have yet to quit my 35 minute routine because I was tired--once I get going I just can't let myself stop--I'd feel like a huge failure if I did.) Then I hit the showers, (saw some hotties) then went home, grabbed some dinner found myself in front of the computer with nothing to do at about 8pm.

So I convinced myself that I needed to go out dancing. I needed to move my body. So I texted my straight girlfriend Liz, and asked her to be my date to Akbar, a gay bar in Silverlake. I got there, and we danced together from 11pm-2am! I had a grand old time, even if the DJ wasn't so good. He was playing a lot of Michael Jackson remixes that just decimated the dancing power of his music :( But we didn't care! At one point during the night, a heavy black guy and his lesbian friend started dancing with us, and Liz got swept away by the lesbian, and heavy black guy started grinding into my crotch and putting my hands on his ass.

It was fun to dance, but I was not attracted to this guy, so it wasn't as fun as it could have been--but I'll dance with anyone! I felt bad when he tried to pull me off of the dance floor and I didn't follow him, but that's what you have to do. Liz ended up requiring me to save her from the lesbian who started trying to give her a shoulder hickey!

There were a couple times during the night were I should have asked a couple guys to dance, but I was too chicken. I'm planning to keep going back, so I'm sure that'll come with time.

Anyway, the next day, I kicked butt running around town getting errands done--including getting my poster of Clue, a graduation gift from my dear friend Dan framed. It was a high quality reproduction, but I'm almost positive that I spent more money getting it framed than it was worth--but it looks SO CLASSY that it's totally worth it. It makes me so happy just to look at it. Thanks Dan!

I darted down to Santa Monica to hit up the beach with Danny, Jackie and Josh--6 dollars to park, and I found myself hoping around gleefully in the waves. Then of course, I got to lay out in the sun, and show off my new sunglasses and work on my tan.

That night, I went to a party and my Jackie's house, which was pretty meh, everyone was drinking and there were a lot of people I didn't know--and while normally that's fine, I was just too exhausted to play the part of social butterfly.

So first thing Sunday morning, I run out and do my laundry and clean my house, preparing for Damian's arrival, for date #3. It was was a good time. I cooked my famous spaghetti pie and we watched True Stories, and then sat on the couch and talked for several hours. He ended up being over for almost 7 hours, which was incredible, since we were basically talking.

He likes taking things slow, and that's okay with me. I'm not sure exactly what I feel about him. He's pretty good looking, and we have a lot of common interests, (we know and love almost all the same movies!) but I am not yet feeling that elusive chemistry. So for now I'm just letting things roll and see where they go. Hopefully if it ends up not working out, we'll still be friends, because he seems like a cool guy.

Though he can't swim and hates pools and the ocean--which is a huge problem, IMHO--But we're just gonna leave that one alone for now. This is what happens when you are raised in the deserts of Lancaster I suppose.

This morning I had my second session with Dr. Tony. I really like him, and I really like that he's a gay man--when he speaks about gay issues, he uses "we" to describe them, which helps remind me that he's been there or that it's not a unique and/or insurmountable problem. I wish it didn't cost so much, but until I pay down my insurance deductible, that's just how it's going to have to be.

Anyway, that's what's going on with me lately. Hope everyone is doing well. Oh, and a special shout out to my recent blog hits coming from The Westin Hotel in San Francisco and NASA!

Affirmation Young Adult Cornerstone

Canyon and I will be attending the 1st ever Affirmation Young Adult Cornerstone Conference in San Francisco, CA on July 17th and 18th (Fri/Sat). It's $20. Check it out if you can, it'd be awesome to see some familiar faces there. You never know what could happen!

Saying "No Thanks"

I don't like leading anyone on--but it's easy for me to do, because I'm such a friendly guy and my politeness and conversation is often interpreted incorrectly to mean I'd be interested in being more than just friends.

Well, there's a gay mormon guy who lives in CA, who messaged me because we have a mutual friend.  He doesn't blog, and I've never met him.   To make a long story short he expressed that he thought I was attractive and he wanted to "get to know me better".

This is where I get annoyed.  First off, we've never even met--and he IS getting to know me better, because we've chatted a couple times.  But either way, I am friends with him on Facebook, so I know what he looks like and I can tell you I don't find him in the least bit physically attractive.  Personality wise, it really isn't much better--our conversations have been skin deep at best, and rather than continuing to get to know me, he insinuates he'd like to date me.

So I tell him straight up that I'd be happy to get to know him better, but that I don't find him attractive.  He basically flips out and starts speaking monosyllabically and ending every sentence with "?????" For example "Wow????" and "Can't find the words dude !!!!!"

Now I know I've lamented the lack of a boyfriend on this blog before--but that does NOT mean I'll just settle and accept the first guy that comes along with interest.  I work 50-70 hours a week, I don't have time to date people who do NOTHING for me either intellectually or physically.  I hate that I get treated like a bad guy for being forthright.  But that's how I feel--he wrote me this friggin' e-mail that was practically incoherent

I did not know how to react to you after what you said but i don't hold any hard feelings towards you. you like me have the right to have passionate feeling toward someone.to be honest i wanted to go off on you part of me did but if you take everything that people say personal then you hurt yourself a little.but i know that their nothing wrong with me i know that someday someone will want to get close to me and have feeling towards me.so i don't hold any hard feelings when you have been hurt like i have since i came out you tend to take things a little harder then others.i believe in love trust and respect treating other right and being treated right i don't ask people to love me or to like me just treat me as you would want yourself treated.so i am still up for getting to know you that's no problem with true intentions on both sides we can do this.

I would appreciate it if someone could help me understand what this even means...  All I know is that it further proves that this person is not right for me just in how they chose to react to honesty.

And one more thing--I don't care if this makes me sound like a colossal prick, but I couldn't deal with someone routinely drops words from his sentences and letters from his words (Examples: 2nd sentence: missing "s" on feeling; 3rd sentence "ly" missing from personal; 4th sentence "their" should be "there is"; 5th sentence "s" missing from feeling again; 7th sentence "other" needs to read "others" or "other people"; and of course the missing space between each new sentence, the complete absence of commas, and the complete absence of capitalization)

Now that you all think I'm a huge douche for being so picky about spelling and punctuation, let me just say this to you--It's important to me that someone be able to communicate clearly--I don't even know what to make of this message.  I wrote him back, and got and even MORE confusing message, this time it was twice as long.

But my favorite is this "i don't ask people to love me or to like me just treat me as you would want yourself treated."  I did just that--I want people to be HONEST with me, not lead me on, fuck around with my brain or play games.  So I think he would be happy to know that I treated him exactly as I'd like to be treated.

Speaking as someone who is obese (this person seemed a lot heavier than me, btw), I know I'm judged by my looks all time time--but I refuse to use that phony line that seems to be very popular with people who don't take care of themselves (I have been one of them)--it's always a rewording of that "it's not what's on the outside that counts" cliche.  This is how it was worded to me in the second e-mail:

i have been hurt by some many guys out there but when the hits come when someone thinks i am not the right size or look it may singe for abit but i walk it off because i am better then those who only see what they want to see i am not saying that looks make a big deal to you but i don't let that define me i let my heart define me looks are cool i agree but its what a man or any person holds on the inside that matter to me

Ugh.  Why does that idea seem to be only held by ugly or fat people, hmm?  OF COURSE what's on the inside counts.  It's BOTH.  You need both!!!  I know I used to think that way before I realized if I just took better care of myself, (IE, eat right and exercise) people WOULD find me attractive.  It's because it's easier to believe this "feel good" line about looks not mattering and to keep telling yourself that everyone is just too shallow to appreciate the you that's on the "inside" instead of doing the hard work and getting to the gym and eating right and getting in shape--I've been working at it for less than a year, and I've lost 30 pounds--it's not easy, but I know it has to be done--for myself, if not for anyone else.

I don't even know if I should post this--it's got quite a bit more venom and vituperation than I expected when I started out.

I guess I'll extend the question to you, kind readers--should I have gone on a date with this person?  (though I've now gone from ambivalence to completely turned off)  What would you have done?  Am I a mega-sized asshole for even writing this down?

Self Perception

So I actually think I look pretty good--and people have often told me I'm handsome. But I don't believe them, and I really don't believe myself.  This probably stems from the (in my mind, logical) obvious conclusion that I'm single and hot people aren't single (at least not for long).  Of course looks are only one part of a person's ability to get a guy--personality is huge, but thats not what this post is about.

Last weekend, the TV campaign I was working on provided us with free t-shirts for the film.  They only had up to XL, and I always buy XXL shirts.  But I tried on this XL shirt (it was black and form fitting) and the girl who works as edit assist said "Ezra, you look really good in that shirt, you should wear t-shirts more often!"

It was a surprising revelation.  I have shied away from t-shirts, favoring plaid button downs instead, as I am required to wear collared shirts for work.   I always thought that t-shirts made my man-boobs look more obvious and therefore, ugly.  But I've lost 30 pounds since last May, and I'm still wearing the same clothes and dressing the same as I did then!

On my date with Ben last weekend (which was okay, but we both agreed we're not a good match) he said that he didn't have a type--it could be anyone so long as they're not fat or ugly.  I laughed and I said "There's obviously something wrong with your vision, you're on a date with me!"

He smiled and said "You're not fat, you're chubby".

I'VE BEEN DOWNGRADED!!! LOL.  I'm still very much clinically obese, (BMI=34.6) but at the same time, I think carry my weight very well.

Lastly, my therapist told me that she thinks I have a style and that I just haven't developed it for myself yet.

So this last Saturday I went shopping for some new clothes.  I've never even set foot into a store like Aeropostale before--I'd never have fit into anything there one year ago.  But now, I was easily able to find clothes that fit and looked great! See the two outfits I got below:

Left, Macys; Right, Aeropostale.

I bought "skinny" jeans!  Not spray on jeans, mind you, but jeans that fit snugly around my legs--and I looked damn good, and my roommate's girlfriend and many folks on Facebook agreed!

That night I went down to West Hollywood, (AKA Gay Mecca) for my friend Spencer's going away bash.  As I parked my car and walked down Santa Monica Blvd in the outfit on the left (my skinny jeans and black shirt with patches and rolled up sleeves) I couldn't help but feel good.  As I passed a restaurant patio, several guys were clearly glancing my way!  Even if they didn't look for long, the point was that they were noticing me at all!  This is not something I'm used to by any means!

Basically, I'm feeling much better about my self image, and I've really enjoyed finding new clothes that work well for me.  I've committed to buying a few things every other week or so to build a better, cuter wardrobe... I like looking good, and though I'm far from a fashionista, I'm finding that I do like the way a good outfit makes me feel.

Do clothes make the man?  Or do they just help accent the wonderful man that's already within each of us?  Some may call it vain, but couldn't you say the same thing about the Mormon Temple?  It's made with the highest quality materials, and prominently displayed because it is God's house.   And my body is a temple, right?

Anyway, I suppose the whole purpose of this post was to show off how good I'm looking and feeling lately--sorry for being a bit self-serving.

I love you all and can't wait to see you when I get to Salt Lake for the next Moho Party!

A Super Gay Sunday

So here's my long version of my teaser post from monday.

I'm been working A LOT this past week or so, (yesterday I worked 19 hours!) so I've let blogging fall by the way-side.  It also doesn't help that I don't have internet at home--though now that I think about it I could have written a post offline and then brought it in to work to post instead.

But I have some downtime while I'm waiting for a tape, so here's the deal on what I'm calling my "Super Gay Sunday".

The day started off with me waking and making a "Funfetti" cake for my roommate's girlfriend.  It was her 22nd birthday, and I wanted to do something nice for her, to dispel any remaining idea that I don't like her or don't approve of her.  Early on in their relationship, I think I was a bit stand-offish because they seemed to me to be a bad match... but with time I've come around to see that they actually are a great couple.

In addition to the cake, I went to the grocery store and bought a bushel of balloons.  While the girl filled them, she asked me "are these for a boy or a girl?" which I like to think was a creative way of asking me if I was gay--so I told her the story about my roommate's girlfriend, and that as a gay man I don't have a girl, or a guy, for that matter, to give balloons too.  She was really friendly and assured me that it just takes time.  She seemed suprised that I was only 22...

Anyway, while the cake baked, I wrote to a strictly platonic craigslist ad for a guy looking for a "witty, dry sense of humor conversationalist".  I thought that was intriguing, so I e-mailed, and we sent a few messages back and forth, before it was time for me to head down to Lawndale CA for my lunch with Spencer.  So I asked him to call me while I drove, and he did.

So we talked about this that and the other until I got to Lawndale.  An enjoyable time, but I had to say goodbye when I arrived at Spencer's house.

Most of you know, from my post "Another Amazing Happenstance" that Spencer is the guy I met on OKcupid who's best friend caused me so much angst when he rejected my invitation to get to know me.

Well, after essentially standing him up this Tuesday because I got stuck at work, I readily agreed to reschedule our meet-up for a Sunday lunch.

Now, a funny thing about Spencer is that he's 6'8".  Now, I know this, and was fully expecting tall--but when I knocked on his door (not realizing that there was a step up to get into the front door) and he answered, I was literally taken aback.  He was a good 14 inches higher than me as a result of the extra step... it was pretty crazy.

Anyway, after the initial surprise wore off, we headed towards Hermosa Pier, and decided on a Greek Tapas place.  SO GOOD.  We ordered a bunch of little dishes and ate and talked.  Spencer is so much like me it's not even funny.  I observed the language that he used, the playful and friendly manner in which he addressed the waitstaff, and was just happy.  He playfully chided me for standing him up, and at one point said "Jesus Christ" and then said "I should have said Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints", directly referencing one of my initial reasons for writing him in the first place.  His memory of the little details made me happy--he made me feel like he was glad to be spending time with me--I was certainly happy to be spending time with him.

I'd brought along a rather challenging puzzle-based Geocache for us to do after dinner. (Click the link if you wanna see what I mean--it's a puzzle requiring you to solve a number grid and then use the solution as your "road map"--looping you around through "senic" Lawndale, CA).  Spencer apparently loves puzzles, so he was very excited to solve it.  This made me happy, because so many people are sort of blase about Geocaching, and it's something I think is totally awesome.

The bummer part of this story is that he's moving to Sacramento in mid-may, and so the whole time we're hanging out, I realize that there's a good chance I'll never see him again.

The cache is in this picture... can you spot it?

The cache is that pipe of conduit bolted the the pole!!!  It was so cool I was practically giddy with delight.  I hope I didn't seem crazy--but I was thrilled!

Well, I dropped Spencer off at home so he could get to work.  I drove home, thinking about the fun time I'd just had, and bumming out that it wouldn't happen again, most likely, before the move.

So in an attempt to distract myself from loneliness, I called the craigslist guy and asked if he wanted to hang out and maybe go to a park and walk around or something.  So I picked him up and we went to Woodley Park and visited the Sepulveda Dam. (below)

This dam is awesome, and since it's for flood control, it's always a blast to visit and run up the dry spillways.  Stephen was a nice enough kid, but there wasn't any chemistry, and the difference in how I felt and spoke around him and how I felt and spoke around Spencer was like night and day.

So I dropped Stephen back at home after the park, fully intending to never speak to him again, because with my extremely limited free time, I've got people who I care about a lot more (like friends) than to hang out with someone I'm "meh" about.

Anyway, I got home and decided to call my friend Brandon B, who is the first guy I ever dated. (Granted it was just a coffee date.) and asked if he wanted to grab dinner.  He obliged, and we met at Bossa Nova on Sunset Blvd.  We chatted and caught up, and somehow he suggested that we go to WeHo together and visit a gay club--so we did!  Now granted, we went very tame, and it was a Sunday night, but all told, it was a very interesting experience to see men in such numbers holding, kissing, laughing and talking.  I mostly just stood chatting with Brandon and absorbing the vibe.

Oh, and a forty year old drunk man talked to me and Brandon for a while, extending the generous but undesired offer of his cock to suck.  He also groped my man boob and kissed my neck.  Suprisingly, I was not threatened by this, and was more amused than anything else.

Anyway, I finally took that step and got over that fear, and it wasn't a big deal.  I also had a sip of Vodka Tonic, when Brandon offered me to taste.  It tasted like NyQuil... there was little temptation to drink more.

That night, after all visiting the clubs, I returned to my home at 2am, overly weary (big mistake) for the intense week we had ahead of us at work.  But I hoped online and found that Spencer had invited me to his going away party in WeHo in a couple weeks.  Well, it made me glad that I'd gone to get over the fear so that I can say yes to his invitation.

The other funny thing, is that Spencer's friend Brandon, the editor friend, who I blogged about getting rejected by in my "Creepy Stalker" post, will be there... so he'll get to see exactly how awesome of a guy he ignored!

Anyway, today's been super hard, so I'm going to pass out--I've had a cap of NyQuil and I'm hoping that this is coherant when I read it back tomorrow.

Oh, and I have a date for this weekend.  He seems nice, and pretty cute, but not sure if he'll be my type---more on that when it goes down. Night!

Helpful Tips for Dating Returned Missionaries (Repost)

Troy Williams Posted this amazing article that makes some great points about the frustration behind being gay and mormon. I have reposted the first few paragraphs with permission, but I highly recommend reading the whole article.

"Last week my roommate came bursting through the front door, “What is it with gay men hung up on Mormonism!?” Ah. I could only assume the obvious. He was experiencing the frustration of dating a guy still trying to reconcile his faith and sexuality. “I think its fear,” he continued. “That and privilege” I responded. “Mormon men have been told since childhood that they are the elect of the earth. Coming out as a big nelly fag stripped them of their divine birthright. The trauma is just now sinking in.” Yup. As Mormon men we were once the first of the first class citizens – but now, suddenly, through a quirk of desire, we have been stripped of our chosen status. Saturday’s Warriors have become Friday Night Infidels.

Gay LDS men have a seemingly more difficult time getting over the Church than gay Mormon women. Within their theology and culture, women have always played a subservient role in both Church and household. The stigma associated with being a lesbian isn’t so different from being ranked below a man in all other sectors of society.

This point came home after I read an interview with the African-American author James Baldwin. Richard Goldstein from the Village Voice asked Baldwin why white men seemed more outraged over homophobia than black men. Baldwin responded, “[As a white gay] you’re placed outside a certain safety to which you think you were born. A black gay person is already menaced and marked because he or she is black… I think white gay people feel cheated because they were born into a society where they were supposed to feel safe… Their reaction seems to me in direct proportion to the sense of being cheated of the advantages that accrue to white people in society.” (Homocons; Goldstein, p. 32)"

See the whole article here.

I know it's not the in-depth follow up/update post that you've been eagerly waiting for, but I feel like our moho community would enjoy Mr. Williams blog.

And There's The Problem...

So it's official. I'm not gay enough.

I'm in the Castro blogging from my phone. A little while ago I had lunch at a little restaurant here called "home". They had an amazing meatloaf sandwich that knocked my socks off. But I digress.

When I got my check, I asked my (gay) waiter what I should do or what was a must see. He directed my that if I as going up towards this one area that there were a bunch of bars and strips clubs "like I think there's a Hustler strip club up there.". Yeah then I directly asked what to see and do in re Castro and I got told to check out the Castro theater because they show classic films.

So even in the heart of the Castro people don't even ask if I'm gay because it's apparenty not even in doubt. Now granted, I realize that maybe he just wanted to air on the safe side, assuming that straight people can get offended when their sexuality is questioned, and many gay men would be merely amused or flattered by the assumption that on is straight. But still.

I do not feel like I fit in in any community anymore. I'm pretty much done with
Mormonism and I'm still not comfortable with myself and don't identify with the gay community. I feel sick to my stomach.

Anyway, Mortified is tonight and if I'm lucky someone will invite me out with their group so I don't feel like a total loner lamo.

I feel like in many ways I like the person I was when I was in the closet a lot better. I feel less confident and more reserved an shy than ever. Sigh whatever I just am really lost.

WTF

I'm sitting in the business center at the Tenaya Lodge in Fish Camp, CA.

And I'm suprised and angry.

I'm happy to be here, and think I'll have a dandy time--but there's a lot of heavy stuff on my mind right now.

I've really upset someone. Part of me feels bad, and the other part of me says "fuck you and get off your high horse". I feel like I was trying to be a good friend and apparently was an asshole or something. Basically, now I'm angry too, at least for now. I am angry because I sincerly sought reconciliation and was greated with more passive-aggressive behavior.

Truth is, I don't need that bullshit in my life, and I don't like that it came from someone I hardly know. But why did it affect me so? For now I'm putting them off of my radar--it's the only thing I can think to do.

Secondly, here I am in one of the most Beautiful places in a comfortable Lodge--all alone.

It is getting me more depressed by the second. This type of thing should never have to be done this way. There is some snow on the ground up here. The lobby has a fire place. If only I had a boyfriend who I could snuggle with on the couch while watching the fire burn, or playing a board game.

I know I'm young and lucky to be where I am, but all my success and acheivements are trivial in contrast to my solitude.

**WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT**

I'm starting to scare myself again.

I feel like I'm getting more desperate and reckless as time goes by. Friday night I invited a guy over that I'd dated back around Christmas. He was kind of cute but not my type, especially personality wise. But I found myself asking him to come over and spend the night--knowing full well that there would be heavy petting involved.

He somehow didn't end up making it, and in hind-sight I'm thankful--I'm know I'm better than that.

Yet, when I realized he wasn't coming, I started browsing Craigslist, thinking about how easy it would be to get a hook up or a blow job. I stared at a post for a nearby glory hole for what seemed like 15 minutes, thinking about responding.

"I'd never even have to see the person"--it would just be a mouth, a tool for masturbation.

I didn't respond, of course. I masturbated--twice--and went to bed.

It's unsettling to me, because I know how badly I want a honest, meaningful relationship with someone who makes my heart race, who I always want to be around, who "gets" me. I want someone who turns me on, who gets turned on by me, who I can kiss and cuddle and hold and suck and fuck and make love and hold hands and massage. Who will let me run my hands around their waist and draw them in close.

I've only crushed once, and nothing has felt even remotely close since. Sometimes I think maybe I'm not programmed right. I can't elaborate on this tonight, as my brain is too fried from driving 4+ hours to Yosemite.

But seriously, when do I get to fall in love? :/

I'm so tired and so lonely.

I'll try to post more tomorrow night, and give you all an update on how my first day at Yosemite goes.

P.S. I'm planning to visit the local LDS church tomorrow morning, though I'm not 100% sure I can go through with it. Or WHY I am planning to do it.

Yosemite

Seriously guys--who wants to take a weekend to Yosemite with me and stay at the this lodge?
Cuddling is optional, though highly recommended!
It's times like these that I really wish I had a boyfriend... :(

I'm A Stalker

So I'm turning into my roommate. (Well, at least how he used to be before he finally got a girlfriend.)

I say this because I'm an internet stalker.  I'm on OKcupid, and I got a "quiver" match (basically people the computer suggests you message) with a guy who lives in North Hollywood and works as an editor.  He's pretty cute, too.

So I messaged him, telling him that I, too, am an editor living in Noho, and that I was looking to make new friends, date, network, etc and asked if he wanted to hang out.  Nothing too overt, but just a nice message inviting him to grab a drink.

He received my message and looked at my profile this morning--no response.  Granted, he may have been on his way out the door and not had time to respond, but generally if the person you write to views your profile and doesn't respond, you'll never hear from them.

So rather than letting it go and moving on with my life, I get depressed, once again asking myself "why am I so easy to dismiss, and so easy to ignore?"  I mean, am I the ONLY person who actually wants to make gay friends as he seeks out a boyfriend?  I'm not (just) trying to get into your pants!  I'm cool with networking and making another gay friend in my section of the industry!

So I start using information from his cupid profile to find him on Facebook.  Sure enough, there he is--and because of his privacy settings allowing people in his network (Los Angeles, CA) to see all his information, I found out what company he works for (one my company deals with from time to time) and so it just irks me all the more to think I'm dismissible because I'm unattractive.  He doesn't want to "waste his time" to even get to know me.

To make matters a bit worse, I had a great chat last night with a wonderful guy who I'd really love to take on a date, but lives to far away and probably has no interest.

SIGH.

There's a lot on my mind, but I feel like in needs to be stretched out over several posts, to avoid mixing topics and creating confusion.

The point is that I am disturbing myself because I'm so lonely that I stalk people I don't know. :(

I'm Warning You...

I'm warning you in advance, before you start reading, that this is probably going to be the most rambling flood of dis-organized, emo-licious, swear filled, angry and depressed post I've had in a while. It's my way of crying out for help. Yes, I'll admit that, I'm posting on this blog because I need validation, and I don't know where else to get it.

So if you're wise, you'll just ignore this post.

Here comes the flood.

FUCK THIS BULLSHIT RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW.

I'm sick. I'm sick in the head, and I'm not just talking about my head cold. I've been lounging around my house all weekend, and I thank God that today is presidents day, otherwise I'd have venture to work SICK the the fucking rain, which isn't supposed to happen, I live in LOS ANGELES for crying out loud.

I'm sick because I continue to torment myself on a daily basis. Yesterday I was already sick, and I was sleeping on my bed, and the phone rang, and I was so happy that someone would call, hoping maybe it was my older sister, who I love very dearly. But no, it was my God-Damn-Home-Teachers™. The good, Mormon me would have been excited to get a blessing, but I don't see the point. God already knows I'm sick, I've already asked him to help me heal, so why do I have to let two people who only care about me because they've been assigned to care touch my head and pour vegetable oil on the back of my head??? It's ridiculous... because I either believe the church, or I don't. And judging from the fact the I've not been to a mormon church since Sept. 2008, almost half a year ago, I'd say I'm pretty fully apostate.

Sometimes, destructive, abusive familiarity feels safer and more comfortable than the frightening cold unknown.

And I'm definitely in that territory now.

I basically told my hometeachers flat out that I only let them teach me because I know that they need to mark me off as "visited" in their report, and I'd hate to be responsible for keeping them from getting 100 percent of their work done.

It was a very uncomfortable meeting. I felt like flying off the handle at them the whole time spewing hateful venom at them, renouncing my faith and telling them to get the fuck off my couch, get the fuck out of my apartment, and never come back. But you can't get angry and two men who really believe that they love you, and speak softly and blah blah blah... what the hell are you supposed to do? It's just like in that episode of South Park "All About Mormons". Stan says:

Oh, stop it! That's another thing! Why do you have to be so freakin' nice all the time?! It isn't normal! You just weasel people into your way of thinking by acting like the happiest family in the world and being so nice to everyone that you just blindside dumb people like my Dad!

I laughed when I watched it. Now I cringe because I feel like it's true. I wanted to just flat out say, "I'm gay, I'm actively seeking a boyfriend, and I don't fit in your church anymore, so if you still want to visit me, then fine, but until I can be who I am within the walls of the church, then you can stop wasting both yours and my valuable time on this bullshit"

But of course, I didn't. I just said, simply, quietly: "I don't know what to tell you". I didn't engage. They got the hint, and they left, though not before one of them (the one I like less) tried one last time to passionately share that he does care about me.

Not the real me, not about my happiness, but for the me that I'm obviously "losing" the good Mormon me.

As if that even ever existed.

I turned down their offer for a blessing. No real point in getting on if I don't have the faith anymore. And when they left, I lay on my couch in a sickness induced stupor, and I started crying. I miss that fucking church so much sometimes. I miss that warm feeling of KNOWLEDGE. Of knowing, with absolute certainty the answers to all life's little problems and questions. I miss the hymns on sunday and my mormon friends that I grew up with, who are all getting married and starting their perfect mormon lives.

And here I am, sick, alone and crying. No one to make me soup. No one who will sit with me and watch a movie, snuggling up, not worried about getting sick from my contact.

I lay on the bed, and for the second time in a year started visualizing the bulk-sized bottle of Advil-Liquigels in the medicine cabinet, and how I could just walk over to that bottle, pour those fucking pills into my massive fucking gut and let that medicine, that pain relief action pump through every artery, vessel, and ventricle until all the pain of life was gone--until life was gone.

I'd probably get away with it too. My roommate if very respectful, and he wouldn't check up on me if my door was closed for probably a day or so. I'd be in the clear. I'm doomed to go to hell anyway, so why not cut through all the bullshit and just go now? What's a few more years of living worth when you have an eternity in hell to look forward to. It's not really worth bothering.

EMO-LICIOUS enough yet? Good, glad to hear it. I'm never going to find a guy because I'm too fucked up, broken, confused, fat, undesirable and angry to ever woo someone. Not to mention I'm picky and shallow, and I want someone who's good looking, but apparently I expect that person to see beyond looks since I'm fucking fat ass who while he's been sick has been binging up a storm and essentially putting on 5 pounds in a weekend. It's just what I deserve. I'm getting it all back, my feelings of being worthless and a waste of space and life are validated again and again, with every lonely night and every sad song and every cute guy I see who I'll never get the chance to talk to. Every couple and every baby, the knowledge that YOU'LL NEVER HAVE THAT. Fuck this life.

In the previous post, I took two doses (60ml) of NyQuil, which is two of those little dose cups full. Chedner had asked if it was 2 cups, as in 16oz? Well, sometimes I wish I had that courage--then I'd really be fine. My roommate had to work today. He wouldn't find me for almost 8 hours. Plenty of time.

Don't worry, I won't do it. I'm too much of a god-damn coward to take my own life. Too scared of the pain, and to considerate of the negative effect it would have on the people that rely on me. My job, my dear, sweet siblings who I don't deserve. My idiot, child-like parents who I can never talk to because they don't know how to listen. My loving, sweet grandmother who's always had more faith in me and more love for me than I've had for myself, who supported me and gave me money for college. All that would be wasted if I killed myself.

It's for those reasons I can't do it. But dammit, I wish I could. I'm done with trying to figure this shit out. It's too hard, and I don't care anymore. I want to have my biggest problem be that my TiVo can't record all the shows I want it to. I want to be a blindly faithful member of a church that fits me like a glove, who can't see the fact that maybe people aren't all supposed to be the same and need different faiths and denominations to achieve that same end-goal of being a good person who does unto others what he would have done unto him.

I'm getting tired now. I took more NyQuil. The benifit of growing up using homeopathic and herbal remedies is that when you really want the wallop, modern medicine seems incredibly powerful and wonderful.

Goodnight. It's nap time. I'm sorry you had to read this, but then again, I warned you that you should stop before starting, because all it is is a sad tired little boy who is crying out for help, for the pain to stop. He can't take it anymore... but every day it's just trying to get to the end.

What's Missing? - Performing Arts and Passion

Last night I attended the Mortified Doomed Valentine's Day Show in Los Angeles.  I was able to attend free, as a guest of the producers.  For those of you who don't know, I'm going to be performing in their March 11th show!

I attended the show with a friend from college, and I tell you, I never laughed harder.  The stories that people told, "ripped from the pages of real life", were so amazing.  I am not going to try and re-create the experience for you, because it is impossible.  Seeing these fully grown men and women, reading their journals and showing their drawings from their 15 year old counterparts, was indescribably delightful.  How absurd we are as we grow up!

After the show I was emotionally pumped in a way I hadn't been in a while.  I am so eager to perform at that show in March--I'm already getting that healthy stage fright--that anxious high that all actors feel in the pit of their stomach right before they step out into the spotlight.

That night, I dreamed.

In the dream, I was back in my High School auditorium at Harrisonburg High School.  My drama teacher, Mr. Swartz was there, but he wasn't directing this show--I was.  I had a script in my hand, and I was trying to direct the actors on stage.  The rest of the cast, who's scenes weren't being actively rehearsed, sat in the audience, doing homework and talking (as we were wont to do back when I did theater in high school).

I set down my script to give a direction, and when I turned back to pick it up again, the script had gone.  I began to search for it, and the kids in the audience kept talking, and my rehearsal began to break down.  Louder talking and laughing, and my script was nowhere to be found.

Anger building, I exploded.  "You all need to either sit quietly or step out into the foyer if you're going to talk!  And who stole my script?"

I don't remember much after that, but I remember I was pretty unsuccessful at regaining control of the situation.

But what does it mean?  Maybe I feel like I used to have a script--the church and is proscriptions for life--and now I don't, and I'm losing my control over the direction of my life.

Or maybe it's just random recall from being excited about performing again.  I love theater probably as much if not more than film and television.  I love rehearsals, opening night, and the magical experience of suddenly realizing that you are the character, and of course, the most gratifying sound in the world--the applause.

Film makers and web-series creators don't get to see the smiles they put on their audiences faces.  They don't get the thrill that ever night something could go wrong or brilliantly right, earning them that standing ovation.

I started watching Hello, Dolly! this week (haven't had time to finish it), partly because of the song "Put on Your Sunday Clothes" that was featured in the opening sequence of WALL-E.  Not only is this show a terrific example of a big budget musical extravaganza, like Seven Brides for Seven Brothers or The Unsinkable Molly Brown, it feels good.  Just watch and listen:

"There's no blue Mondays in your Sunday Clothes!"

I've been having blue days a lot lately, and maybe it's because I don't wear my Sunday clothes anymore.  I have nothing to get excited about or dressed up for.  

I'm have no passion.

Theater is something I'm passionate about, but I don't get to express it enough.  I'm passionate about finding a boyfriend, but I'm so far unsuccessful. 

If I could perform for a living, I would in a heart beat.  The problem is, I'm too scared, too comfortable, too fat, have no technical training and frankly don't have enough tenacity to even attempt it.  So instead I seek out little opportunities to be on stage in every day life.  Reading to children at a local elementary school(doing that this weekend), or reading my journals to 300 people in a Mortified Show, maybe running for public office?

Lately I just feel like I'm on that treadmill again--running and running and getting nowhere.  Just relax, Ezra.  You've got a lot of time to figure this stuff out.  Don't get your panties in a bunch just yet.  It's never too late to start over.

Dr. Hypocrisy OR How I Learned To Quit Feeling Bad About Ignoring Someone

It's a long title for a relatively simple post.

Basically, it used to bother me when people would ignore my messages on OKcupid.  It would bring me down, making me think "God, am I really that ugly/fat/uninteresting that I can't even talk to you and be your friend"?

But today, someone actually messaged me first, and I have zero physical attraction to this person.  They aren't ugly, they seem like they might be nice, but all the same, I'm just not interested in giving up any of my valuable time to someone I don't even have an inkling of desire for in the first place.  And while in theory I want new friends, the reality is I barely get to see the friends I already have... and who wants a friend who secretly wants to be your lover anyway?  It's just awkward.

Granted, this makes me realize that is the same thought process went through the minds of the hundreds (maybe not hundreds, but dozens) of guys who I've messaged that ignore me, and that kind of hurts, but why?

I don't want someone's pity or charity.  I want them to truly be interested in me for who I am.

From now on, I choose to be glad when I'm ignored.  Because if someone politely but vaguely responds, my lonely self automatically goes into hyper-boyfriend-seek-and-destroy mode and I start imagining things that just aren't there, and it always ends up in disappointment.

So I am glad this person messaged me, and I wish I could tell them why without sounding like a dick.  But it's true--he has helped me to be more accepting of rejection.

Weird how things go like that, huh?

Sad Strangers

Yesterday I was driving home from the gym, talking on my (wired!) headset to my sister in Maine.  We try to talk at least once a week.  When I was about 2/3rds of the way home, I received a text message from Andrew, a college friend who I'd committed to pick up at the airport.

Blast! I felt silly having been heading in the wrong direction for that whole time.

(I'm not going to turn this post into a commentary on that last sentence and the deeper truth that lies within it, though it's very tempting. I think my readers are smart enough to feel where I might go with that)

So I swung all the way around--north, then west on the 101, then south on the 405 to Century Blvd.  Andrew is gay, and now that I am more comfortable and "out", I get special delight in re-visiting my old gay friends.  I used to be somewhat uncomfortable around my gay friends, because I feared that they, being gay, had some special sixth sense, and would quickly figure out my dark secret.  I feared I'd be outted by them--not directly, perhaps--but maybe people would notice the similarities between me and my gay friends and come to a (correct) conclusion that I, too, was homosexual.

Well, all that crap is in the past now.  When I got to the airport, Andrew and I embraced in a way that seems exclusive to homosexuals and close family--that great big unrestrained bear hug of joy at seeing someone you care about after a long absence.

Mind you, I've no interest in a relationship with Andrew, but I love hugs and I do care about my friends very deeply.

We drove towards where he was staying in Sherman Oaks, and we stopped and got In-N-Out for dinner.  (I limit myself to no more than once a week, because I literally get giddy when I eat In-N-Out, it's just that good.  It makes up for the lack of decent pizza out here).

While we were talking, I noticed a guy sitting alone on a stool at the bench.  He looked to be in his low to mid 20's (I'm a terrible estimator of age) and slender with a jacket and a cap, five-o-clock shadow, and moist, sad eyes.

I couldn't help but watch him.  He looked as if he was really upset, yet didn't want to show the world his pain.  My heart reached out to this guy, and I really really wanted to go over and ask him what was wrong.  We made eye contact one or two times, but I didn't get a read on him.  I hesitated, minutes slipping by, trying to talk myself into going over and asking "is everything ok?"

But the moment slipped away.  He muttered something to him self, got up, dumped his trash and left.

Earlier this week I'd been reading articles about picking up a guy, and I'd committed myself to at least try striking up a conversation with someone I find attractive.  Why didn't I do it?  A wasted opportunity.  I feared that maybe he just wanted to be left alone--there was a reason he wasn't letting his tears flow--and maybe if I approached him, he'd be angry with me for not minding my own business.   But maybe he would have been grateful that in cold, uncaring, "blade-runner city" LA, someone at least tried to reach out.

But I still feel cheap, because my motivation wasn't 100% altruistic.  I thought he was cute and wanted to talk to him.  Eh, what are you going to do.

We're all sad strangers, walking the streets alone at night, staring up at the stars.  Wondering if somewhere out there your other half is looking at those same celestial bodies, questioning if he'll ever find his.

*sigh*