Coming Out On Facebook

I'm planning to post this as a facebook note tomorrow, along with changing my "interested in" to "Men". Mind you, anyone who knows me and follows me on facebook has got to know by now, but I really want to clear the air and make official on my one year anniversary. Let me know what you think, or suggest additions/subtractions/rewordings.

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Twenty-three years ago today, I was born in Springville, UT. And humorously, was also the last time I'd ever be inside a vagina.

Yup, I'm gay.

I hope that made you laugh, because being gay has been a source of far too much anguish in the past. So yeah, about the past. What's the deal?

One year ago, I came out to my brother David and my sister Sarah, in an e-mail prior to meeting with them in Las Vegas for my 22nd birthday. From that point on, I began sharing this long hidden aspect of my personality with the rest of my family and friends. I began to earnestly seek to know myself--for the first time.

What I discovered is that I had spent my entire adolescent life running and fighting myself. After church one Sunday, in my junior year of college, I almost stepped off a subway platform in front of a Red Line train because I was in so much pain from hiding, knowing I'd never be free from this "affliction".

But after that brush with death, I started to ask myself--is this really right? Does God really want me to live this way? Constantly at war with myself, fighting tooth and nail, white-knuckling through life alone?

The answer, of course, is no.

This past year has been an incredible journey, and I still have so much to discover and learn about myself, my faith, and my future. I've got a lot of forgiving to do and a lot more work to undo the years of self punishment I needlessly endured.

To most of you, this will come as no surprise--if you pay attention to the groups I support and the articles I post, it is obvious. However, I wanted to take a moment on this one year anniversary and express it officially. I know now that being gay is actually a blessing--I'm being constantly challenged to learn and open my heart. And in my journey of self-discovery and authenticity, I've met dozens of fantastic friends who have enriched my life in ways I can't even express.

One year later. Finally out. Finally truthful. And finally free.

"One year older and wiser, too.
Happy Birthday to you.[1]"

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Thoughts? Too brief? Too detailed? Just right?

The Best Independence Day Weekend Ever

Matt from "dripping with optimism" came down from Sacramento to spend his holiday weekend with me. I initially enticed him with the promise of a Death Cab for Cutie concert at the Hollywood Bowl.

When ever someone from out of town visits, I'm always delighted because they motivate me to get out and go places I've never been or are "touristy". We had a super packed weekend, and Matt did a stellar job of outlining a basic plan, but allowing everything to flow and feel natural.

Friday, we went to the LA Zoo and braved the heat and sun to see all the cool animals. I think my personal favorite might have been the Ocelot. As we waited in the 45 minute queue to get tickets into the zoo (crazy, right?) Matt and I got to talking and I found out that he was aware of the movie "The Wizard of Speed and Time" by Mike Jittlov. Which is amazing because NO ONE knows about this movie. You can only buy second hand VHS copies of it on ebay or Amazon... it's just not out there.

Which inspired us to head to Mike's house in Silverlake. We just drove by, but it was fun. We walked down Hollywood Blvd and checked out Michael Jackson's star. Then we went up to the Hollywood and Highland complex, and took this classic photo:

We are SO sexy... lol. I kept wanting to fix Matt's glasses--they are a bit warped, and so they don't sit quite level on his face. That night, we went to the LACMA and caught a bit of free Jazz. Then we checked out the Mullholland Overlook:

Below, the city stretched out like a glittery dream. Still light out, but at that magic hour when the earth and the sky are the same intensity.

The next day, we went to Huntington Beach. I'd gone last summer with my roommate, and the fireworks show they have was phenomenal. So when we got to the beach, we jumped right into the water--and it was COLD. It was surprisingly cold--even a stalwart Mainer such as I could only last about 20 minutes before my hands started to loose feeling!

We walked around to warm up... but as the sun went down, Matt was shivering uncontrollably. (I was chilly, but okay--but I've got insulation). He wasn't sure he'd be able to hold out for the fireworks.

We sought out a wind break in the nook of a building. I pulled Matt in front of me and had him lay against my chest. I wrapped my hands around him and held his hands (which were freezing) and put my cheek on his ear to keep it warm. It was very cozy.

And I just enveloped him and held him for about an hour and half. We watched the fireworks together like that and I've not felt so contented and peaceful in ages.

People walked by and stared, and I didn't care at all. I stared back--one woman smiled as said it looked cozy--boy was it ever.

As I sat there, I I told Matt that he was going to make some guy really lucky someday. He said "igual"

Ditto, essentially.

I'm kinda honored that he trusted me and felt comfortable enough to share that moment with me. I'm so lucky to have a friend like that. Thanks Matt, for making my Independence Day into a really treasured memory.

We drove home, happy and singing classic 90's hits in the car. It took two hours to fight traffic home--but it was a blast. When we got home, we made Root Beer Floats and watched Clue.

The next day, it was on the the Los Angeles Natural History Museum. I'd say this is my favorite photograph that I've taken in a long time, from the African wing:

After that, we hit up Chipotle for a late lunch/early dinner and then went to the Death Cab Concert--the reason for the trip, the finale to an amazing weekend:

The concert ended with a fireworks bonanza for "Transatlanticism" as a finale.

Believe me, you had to have been there. It was an INCREDIBLE finale to a great concert.

The next morning, as I drove Matt to the station, I admit I teared up a little--I'm a sucker for a goodbye. :( Anyway, thanks for the fun times, Matt. Hope to see you again soon.

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!

F*ck You Very Much!

BEWARE: F-word abounds, but it's totally worth it.



I love this song, and now it's stuck in my head.

Were The World Mine, I'd Be Thinner...

Not a long post today, but wanted to give a couple of updates:

Tonight I'm going to a screening of a film and panel discussion with Andrew, a gay christian who reads mine and Chedner's blogs and lives in Los Angeles.

Here's the blurb:

Do I Look Fat?
From the personal stories of seven gay men who have struggled, or continue to struggle, with eating disorders and body image issues, Do I Look Fat? uncovers reoccurring and interconnecting themes that support this "self-esteem disorder." Film will be followed by a discussion. Directed by Travis Matthews, 2005, 58 minutes.

I'm looking forward to making friends with a member of our "extended" family, and maybe learning some information about body image problems.  Though I don't have an eating disorder, I definitely have body image issues.

Secondly, after watching a trailer for "Were The World Mine" on D.'s blog, I went to Amazon and bought the movie--or so I thought.  When it arrived, I realized that I'd bought the soundtrack.  The movie has not yet been released on DVD!

After an initial feeling of disappointment, I ripped the tracks and began to listen.  I am still not through the whole album, because I was stopped dead in my tracks by the amazing track title track "Were The World Mine" (click to listen)

And I will sing that they shall hear, / That I am not, I am not afraid, / I am not afraid / I know not by what power I'm made bold, / But still you flout my insufficiency / The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.

I am not afraid! I shall not fear! But I know that my boldness comes from my knowledge of my heavenly father's love, and the love of my friends and family.  The church, in all it's follies, took my prayer, and made my grace lesser by taking the joy from my life and telling me that somehow I was "lesser".

Best wishes and love to all my friends everywhere.  Try to remember that I'm hear for all of you if you ever want to call me or IM me.

We Are All Enlisted

This morning was glorious--bright, clean and sunny, a spring chill in the air.  Air moist and sweet with the moisture from the rain of the previous days.  I felt good, and I started singing Hymn #250, "We Are All Enlisted".

We are all enlisted till the conflict is o’er;
Happy are we! Happy are we!
Soldiers in the army, there’s a bright crown in store;
We shall grin and bear it by and by.

If you didn't skim those familiar refrains, you'll realize that I'd unconsciously substituted "win and wear it" with "grin and bear it".

I started laughing out loud, and I looked heavenward and smiled.  How long had I been singing this wrong?  I had been an unwilling soldier, conflicted about my sexuality within the ranks of the LDS Church.  I had grinned and borne it my whole life--these "new" lyrics make perfect sense--and that bright crown of glory would be mine if I just fought the good fight for the rest of my life, smiling away like a chucklehead (thanks, Greg).

No more.  From now on, life is not going to be a burden to bear.  It's God's most glorious gift to his children.  We are that we might have JOY.  And with that, I will leave you with this photo, which should make your day bright.  It makes me smile--It's me, probably around 6-7 years old, in a dress.

Have a great day, everyone!

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.