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.

Thoughts? Feedback? Questions?

My journal series is done for now. Maybe later this fall, I'll feel courageous enough to post my journals from when I started cuddling with Seth--its an incredible read, from just one year later. Would that be of interest?

Does anyone have any feedback or thoughts on my two year old way of thinking? I was a bit disappointed at the lack of feedback and commentary on my entries. It made me wonder if perhaps people were just in shock at how obsessive and scary I was about trying to change my sexuality. I don't know.

But you can see how much I wanted to be straight. You can see how hard I was trying to make myself straight. You can understand my frustrations and my pain.

I'm concerned that my progress is still so insignificant. I still don't see being gay as a blessing or a gift. I still see it as a flaw, a defect. I no longer feel guilty about it--any more than someone who was born with any genetic defect has no say or fault in the matter. I wish I could see my homosexuality the same way I see, say, my left-handedness.

I love being left handed--sure, the world is set up for right-handed people. My life might be a little easier if I was right handed--but I don't really think about it--it doesn't matter, because I'm proud to be left handed. It makes me special, and I feel happy when I consider that left handed people are often more creative as they are right brain dominant.

So why can't I embrace my sexuality in the same way? Why do you think, especially after reading these very personal journals, I still perceive it as a flaw? For those who DO feel proud and happy about being gay--how did you arrive there? What changed your point of view?

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.

June 28th, 2007

Dear Journal,

I’m not sure yet. This could be the day that you start making real progress towards heterosexuality—or it could be a day where you’ll look back and regret it. Today I told my Dad that I am struggling with same-sex attraction. Homosexuality.

I honestly can’t believe that I told him. I bought this book on Amazon.com called “Coming Out Straight” by Richard Cohen, and I think it has helped me realize that I may have a chance to change. According to the book, there are many factors that can lead someone into SSA. I have a lot of them, and it really hit home.

When I told Dad, I cried and muttered along, trying to talk through the tears, and we held hands, he just let me get it all out before even speaking, and then he thanked me for trusting him enough to talk to him.

Then we stood and hugged, and I cried on his shoulder as he held me. I sobbed into his chest for a long time, but it wasn’t enough. Richard Cohen was right—touch/attachment therapy between father and son is important. I never wanted to let go. I’ve probably not cried in the presence of my father for 10 years. I’ve probably not been held like that since I was a child and it felt good, like I finally had a Dad. I’m not cured, and I’m not healed, but if anyone can help me, it’s probably him, since he’s the cause (direct or indirect) of most of these potential factors. He’s also good at emotional healing work. So maybe, with God’s help, the Bishop, Evergreen, myself, maybe Dan (if I get the courage to ask him to help) I might be able to melt the pain in my heart that has caused these attractions. I’m scared of what is ahead, but I am grateful to be moving away from the darkness and into the light. There is SO much work to be done—I have such low self-esteem and confidence around men, poor body image, fear of women, inadequacy issues and who knows what else is hiding in my subconscious.

It’s funny. I have been asking God for a friend for the last few weeks, projecting developing a healthy friendship with someone, and maybe I’m supposed to heal and become friends with myself and my Dad. Could be?

There are so many thoughts whirling around in my head. Dad says he will do whatever he can to support me, maybe he can. We may do hormonal therapy, flower essences, emotional healing, and who knows what else. I want to become a real man with confidence, self-worth, and respect, and a deep belief that I am a child of God and he loves me as I am—I don’t have to please anyone else.

Dad says he loves me and wants me to know that I shouldn’t feel guilty for the way I feel. And that he feels change is possible, though even if I stay a homosexual, I’d still have his love and support and it wouldn’t change a thing between us.

I really wish I knew what he’s been thinking about all day. Is he even thinking about it. I want to cry in his arms again.

I feel alone again.

Mom does not know and probably will not know about it until I am done with it (or close to it.)

I love my Mom, but I know (or at least I think I know) that her maturity level is not sufficient to be able to handle that kind of news appropriately. She’d get upset and cry and try to “pray the gay away”. But I already know that doesn’t work.

Sarah would be of the belief that I cannot change it and should accept it, and I’m not sure what Katie and David would think of it. Most of my friends feel the same way about SSA (that you can’t change it). I refuse to accept this because I know God places no burden upon us that we cannot carry—and I can’t carry these thoughts and feelings anymore.

Nothing has even been done yet, but already I have fears and doubts about this. Will the pain and suffering I dredge up be effective and heal me? Or will I be a more well-adjusted homosexual?

All of these fears and frustrations (sexual and mental) are being stacked on top of the lonely-ness of being here in the desert without any friends. Stacked on top of the boring, unfulfilling work I do, the hours of editing crappy footage for J-Sasseville. Stacked on top of my inability to settle or be happy with a film idea and move forward in pre-production. Stacked on top of my concerns about money.

Welcome to adulthood, Ezra.

I’m writing this with my right hand. I need love and I need to get in touch with a very angry little boy who needs healing. I’m looking for a positive, happy relationship. Dad, I need your help. Help me. Help me. Feel me, touch me, heal me.

Sorry if that’s nonsense, I just felt like trying that.

So God, here’s a list (which isn’t all inclusive nor nessicerily complete) of experiences I’d like to have and relationships I want.

-I want to have a family. As much as it is scary, because of my current feelings of inadequacy, I still want to experience the joys (and pains) of fatherhood. Please let me be a good father to a few of your spirit children, heavenly father. I would do my best to rear them in love and respect, with a firm foundation that I will never judge them and they can always talk to me.

An important part of this is to have a wife who loves me for who I really am. A woman who is physically attractive would be a wonderful experience, and if she could be supportive of me and the family, creative and spontaneous, a good homemaker, I will have to think more about this as I’ve never given this much thought. If she is not Mormon I need to come to terms with marrying outside the church, but preferably she should be Mormon. If the love is strong and the woman can accept me even having not gone on a mission, she should be smart and sound minded, but also be in touch with the guidance of the spirit so we can impart good wisdom and love to our kids.

God, I know thou can do anything, and that thou doest it be your timetable and as I further identify what I truly would like to experience in this life you will provide me with strength and understanding (of others and myself.) I realize I have a lot of forgiving of myself to do, and healing with my family, and I ask for special help with this as I have a tendency to worry and feel afraid and hold onto pain and punish myself for slipping up when I should just repent, forgive myself and move on. Thank you. I ask these blessings in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

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.

An Amazing Turn Of Events!

Okay, I literally had the most crazy, serendipitous, coincidental happenstance yesterday afternoon! I was literally floored and all smiles and energy for the rest of the day. I have to share this with you!

So during some down time at work, I was perusing the "Strictly Platonic" m4m section of craigslist, (I know what you're thinking, but I really was looking more for friends or dating, hence the platonic/misc romance section.) and I came across and ad titled "i want to die... - m4m - 19".

In his post, he talked about how he was depressed and wanted to be dead--he wasn't going to kill himself, but he just needed someone who was around his age who he could talk to about it, who understood.

If you've been reading my blog, you know that I was in a similar place this weekend, so I responded and basically condensed my last two posts into an e-mail. I told him that I was 22 and I'd been there, and if he wanted to chat about it, he could IM me.

And so he did.

Christopher told me that he was very grateful for my e-mail, and that it was evident to him that I "got it". He said he felt weird because had two or three close friends online, but he felt like talking to strangers. That's not weird at all, in my opinion. I told him that you want someone totally removed, so you can share only what you feel is relevant and not be judged based on pre-existing grudges or opinions. I think that made him feel validated, which I feel is always vital to do--when someone is down, you need to validate them, tell them it's okay to feel shitty, and that they're entitled to feel how they feel.

After some chit-chat, Christopher (figuratively) turned the mic over to me, and this is the transcript of what happened (cleaned up a bit for ease of reading)

Christopher: so if you don't mind me asking, what are your issues? do you want to rant?
Christopher: i mean
Christopher: just bitch about any and everything without me judging you or thinking they are insignificant
Ezra: Well, I don't mind sharing with you
Ezra: it's pretty straightforward on the surface, actually.
Ezra: Obviously, I was browsing the m4m platonic personals, so you can probably figure I'm gay.
Christopher: i wasn't going to ask, but had a feeling
Ezra: Well, I only came out in September.
Ezra: I was raised LDS (Mormon) my whole life.
Christopher: AOFMASDIHASOIHC"ASDOFIHASNDOIMASDIHOSHAS
Christopher: fuckkkkkkk you
Christopher: awesome!!!!
Christopher: ME TOO
Christopher: omg
Christopher: best friends
Ezra: Are you serious?
Christopher: haha
Ezra: WOW
Christopher: ok go on
Ezra: Dude, welcome to the Moho club!
Ezra: (Mormon Homosexual!)

Ezra: moho!

Christopher: time for a virtual hug
Ezra: HAHAHA
Christopher: awesome!
Ezra: *HUG*
Christopher: well my heart just went crazy beating
Christopher: there are so few of us
Ezra: That's awesome. Yes, there are very few

Christopher: or rather
Christopher: you know what i mean
Ezra: I know lots of gay mormons (at least 20) but most of them live in the Salt Lake area
Christopher: yeah i know just a few
Ezra: that i've met through the moho queerosphere
Christopher: i mean i know there are a lot
Christopher: just not as many that admit it
Ezra: OMG you've just made my day.
Ezra: :)
Christopher: and VERY few that are out and STILL consider themselves mormon
Christopher: seriously
Ezra: Right. Do you still consider yourself mormon?
Christopher: well
Christopher: haha
Christopher: good question
Christopher: but i think you know what i mean
Ezra: I consider myself definately culturally mormon
Ezra: it'll always be part of me
Ezra: I see no reason to throw the baby out with the bathwater in terms of all the good things the church represents
Christopher: thank you
Christopher: thank you
Ezra: but basically, I came to the realization that there was no future for me in the church
Christopher: BECAUSE!!
Christopher: you can't keep going to youth activities
Ezra: and one sunday, I just stood up after sacrament meeting i stood up and realized i wasn't coming back
Christopher: and elder's quorum is just AWKWARD
Christopher: and you can't serve a mission nor do you really want to...
Christopher: and it's like...
Christopher: why am i still here?
Ezra: Exactly

Our conversation continued for quite a while, and we talked about a lot of things--but needless to say, I told him we have to hang out.  He said that sounded good, but "first and foremost", he cautioned, "I have someone right now".

I laughed.  I told him I'd be lying if I said that it hadn't crossed my mind, but that I was mostly just interested in getting to know him--one Moho to another.

My father always used to say that when life is full of serendipity and coincidence, and things just "fall into place" it's because you are in harmony with the universe, and heading down the right path.

:) I'm all smiles.

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.

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 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...