Who Is This Child?

On Saturday, I was digging through my files and I found a program from my baptism and this photo was tucked away inside.

November 6th, 1994.

I happened to be on the phone with my older sister at the time, and I started to lose it.

I began crying. Hard. I tried to really feel and understand my tears. Why had this photo stirred me so?

I struggled to explain, though I sensed she understood intuitively what I was feeling.

My heart aches so much when I see this boy with such a beautiful spirit, who is trying his best, trusting the adults and people he loves and respects, who are trying to lead him to happiness in the best way they know how.

Yet—

Does he know how much things will change? He knows nothing of the internet, pornography, masturbation, homosexuality, hell—sin of any kind is a foreign experience.

Look at how joyful he is! Free from sin, and following the path of righteousness!

But look closer—the boy is anxious, scared. He's frightened of causing anyone more pain, of letting people down. So much so, he's got a cold sore, which always appear on his lips during periods of extreme anxiety.

------

Dear Ezra of November 6th 1994,

I wanted to write you a letter.

You are of such infinite worth. You do not have to earn love. That love you so freely give is all that is required of you in this life. "As I have loved you, love one another".

You will have a lot of terrible things happen to you, but you will touch many lives with your love and your caring—please realize the value you have to those around you, and internalize that for those times when you feel like no one is there.

I love you so much, and I'm so sorry for all the pain I caused you.

I'm sorry for all the times I beat you and verbally abused you. For calling you stupid, and for never truly accepting you for the loving, sweet boy you are.

Everything will turn out alright. I love you.

Sincerely,

Ezra of Sept 2009.

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For the first time in my life, I've had a glimpse of how God must feel.

God knows what lies ahead of us. He looks across the reaches of Heaven, and His endless love swells for us—and oh, the sorrow He must feel! Seeing where we will fall, and wanting to warn us. But knowing that this is our test, and that He cannot intervene, no matter how much he wants to protect us from the pain. It is necessary for our growth.

God's hands are bound, lest agency cease.

I cannot spare that sweet little boy from 1994, any more than God can spare me now.

All I can do is embrace that young spirit inside me, and forgive myself, just as God will do when I finally feel his countenance shine upon me.

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.

---

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?

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.

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.

Flying To Friends: A Weekend Of Mohos and Flight Woes

I decided several months ago to book tickets to Salt Lake City for the May Moho Party. And as I landed in Phoenix, AZ after the first leg of my journey, I saw this sight:

I watch the patchwork farms
Slow fade into the ocean's arms
Calm down, release your cares
The stale taste of recycled air

The Postal Service - Recycled Air

It was an epic journey to say the least. When I landed, I was blessed with a visit from Austin. We sat in the classy Phoenix International Airport and discussed the drama and the joy in each others lives. From crazy haters chatting him up on his blog, to the troubles with his boyfriend's coming out to his family, to our perspectives of what it means to be Mormon and gay. A delightful time. My only complaint was that it was too short of a visit. I have a feeling we'll get to cross paths again, though. Before I went back through security, we snapped this pic:

If only I had realized that I'd be in the airport another 3 hours, I would have asked him to stay longer. Or maybe gone somewhere. It went down like this: I went back through security, and headed toward the gate indicated on my boarding pass. When I got there, I found that they'd moved the plane to the gate at THE EXTREME OTHER END OF THE ENTIRE TERMINAL!  I checked the signage and found that my flight was "On Time" and hustled the 2/3rds of a mile or so (thank goodness for moving walkways) to the new gate.  Upon arriving, I settle into the waiting area, only to realize that I've been called to the counter--everyone has been called to the counter--to receive a new boarding pass and a 10 dollar meal voucher, as our flight has been cancelled due to mechanical failure. The next flight wouldn't be leaving until 8:15, which meant that I was now scheduled to arrive in SLC at 11pm. The party would be drawing to a close by the time I arrived. Frustration and anger welled up inside of me. And rather than recap these feelings, I'll merely provide you with this link to the stream of conscience writing that I did after I finally boarded the plan.

CAUTION--READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED--OBSCENITIES AND BLASPHEMY THAT YOU CAN'T BELIEVE ARE WITHIN THIS DOCUMENT.

Well, I finally arrived and while waiting for Scott to pick me up, I spotted a guy who I thought was gay from when we boarded in Salt Lake, and he and I were alone on the platform waiting together, and I still kick myself for not just starting a conversation.  I need be be less of a coward--why shouldn't I just struck up a conversation with a cute boy, even if he is straight and/or I'll never see him again?  It's practice! Anyway, the party was fantastic.  I met some people for the first time, and some old friends were reunited.  My day had been so sour prior to that party, but when I walked in the door I felt like the Fonz "HEEEEEY!" And was immediately happy.  Special thanks to all those people who waited until I got their before leaving--especially Clint.  His blog was the first one that really spoke to me, and it was so well written, not to mention our common background in media production.  We became fast friends, and I was so happy that he waited for me.  Hugs were administered.  Smiles were shared, and conversation, though painfully brief, was delightful.  Sadly, he left not 10 minutes after my arrival.  I had so many other new friends there though, the sadness didn't hit me until the next morning.

Before I left, I snapped this picture of the greatest couple--our gracious hosts, Scott and Sarah.

The next morning as I watched "Were The World Mine" (excellent film, I'll buy it--I already have the soundtrack) I got a little sad. As I played scrabble with the kids, I felt increasingly depressed. As I drove to the airport with Scott, I questioned him about how he felt watching a movie like that--didn't it make him ill? It made me ill thinking about him--having detrimental side effects to his life no matter what he does. He answered my questions--he's such a wonderful man and Sarah is such a wonderful woman. Their strength makes me feel so inadequate.

I was doing a lousy job of holding by my tears as I wished Scott a goodbye. Hugged once--then twice. Told him how much I loved him and his family. I turned away and walked inside, and started bawling.

I'm sure I was a sight to see. The perky TSA agent who checked my ticket didn't bat an eye, and for that I was grateful. Her concern would have turned my muffled tears into an outright wail. Even now I'm not 100% sure why I cried. I felt so tumultuous inside, I felt despair at leaving such dear friends behind that I'd shared mere minutes with. I felt the weight of decisions not mine to make, and the fear and trepidation of consequences not yet meted out. I cried because I have so much love in my life and my path is so easy. It seems that I must be an incredibly weak soul, for God to provide me with so many blessings and so few trials--knowing just how little I would be able to handle.

I learned that Clint was departing from the same Terminal and Concourse as I, and so I was delighted to find that I got another 40 minutes to hang out with him before going home. He could see my tears and I felt no shame in them... but I think I did a piss-poor job of explaining them. When surrounded by strangers, it's hard to have a conversation about what you're feeling.

I got a picture of my friend before I boarded:

And as I sailed away into the sky, I saw the otherworldly appearance of the great Salt Lake--and the illusion it created that we were already miles above the earth, when we'd actually taken off moments earlier.

Why have I been blessed?
Why do I deserve this?
Who will ever love me?
Will I ever know with a surety that my path is good?

And I closed my eyes and leaned back, and tried to understand.

Gutted

A fire burned down my old ward building back in Cambridge, MA today.
This building was my ward for 3.5 years as I attended Emerson College. Bishop O. of the University Ward saved my life by telling exactly what I needed to hear when I came to him ready to take my own life because of the crushing weight of my self hatred and shame. And now, this is all thats left. A memory, hazy with smoke.

Gutted.

Just like my faith.

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!

Ezra is MORTIFIED

In case you weren't in the Bay Area on April 17th, here's an audio recording of my performance. I recorded it with my digital still camera, which was sitting behind a booth. If you find it hard to hear--tough cookies, If I could have gotten a board feed I would've!



For those who might not want/care to listen, you can download a PDF of the piece, here. But trust me, it's more fun to hear me read it and hear the audience reactions.

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!

Geocaching and other Fun Times

I probably should be in bed right now, but hell, there's too much to talk about.

And no, I didn't watch the Oscars, though I've seen Dustin and Sean's speeches and they made me happy.

Today, almost on a whim, I decided to pack my bike onto the back of my car and drive to visit beautiful San Jacinto.

I took my bike and road it through the fresh air of San Jacinto. Mind you, manure could be considered pollution, but that almost makes it seem more fresh to me--real country air. I rode just over 8 miles, which isn't overtly impressive, but not bad, either. Here's my route:

I found a geocache there, and then headed back south to Jack In The Box for a quick bite to eat.

I stopped and did one final Geocache on my way back home.

And one final exciting occurrence--while driving home in I-10, I picked up a middle aged woman with a suitcase who's care had broken down and drove her about 50 miles to LA. It was kind of nice to have a travel companion, and I was really pleased that my selfish trip could be turned into an opportunity for service.

Then I got home and did laundry, and spent WAY to long on this blog post.

Goodnight friends!

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!

Emo-licious No More

Hey guys.

I was going to apologize for being so emo-licious in the previous post, but I realized that there is no need to. I need not be ashamed for getting depressed. It was what it was, and there is nothing to be sorry about.

I'm grateful that I have this network of people, my close friends and family who send me their love and their prayers every day. I realize that as down as I get sometimes, I always come around. Because I can't stay down when I realize how fortunate I am.

Thanks for everything. Get angry, yell and scream, feel suicidal--it's okay--you need to let the feelings out, or they grow, like a festering wound. Just don't wallow in them forever. Count your many blessings, name them one by one.

So here goes-- 25 things I'm blessed with.

1. My health.
Yes, I got sick this weekend, but I'm pretty much healthy as a horse most days. Especially now that I'm hitting the gym, I feel better than ever most days.

2. The best siblings in the world.
I just do. You may think yours are great, but mine are WAAAY better. :)

3. Having lived in many different parts of the country.
It's helped me be an open minded and loving individual. If I'd stayed in the Mormon Utah Bubble my whole life, I can't even pretend to imagine where I'd be. Probably dead.

4. An amazing body.
When I get past my own body image issues, I realize that I have a great body, a wonderful body, with strong, powerful legs, slender waist and big, broad shoulders. I have a clear complexion and a cute face. I'm very flexible. My body is able to store energy in the form of fat for lean times... it's able to use that energy for other purposes later. In the words "my body machine is super keen." (That's a very obscure reference, btw).

5. The ability to change the things I don't like about my body.
Thank God I'm not disabled, or ugly, or mangled or burned--I'm just overweight. And with patience and determination, I'll shed those pounds. I don't need them any more. I'm done with my shield. I'm ready to go into the world un-armored.

6. My job.
In this economy, I am immensely glad that I'm employed in a well paying job with a small company that is training me and teaching me and essentially allowing me to build a network, should I ever need to find new employment!

7. My maturity and courage.
When I encounter a problem, I might get depressed, but I always win--I attack the problem, finding a solution, even when it's scary.

8. The internet, and its power to help me to never feel alone.
You are all like my extended family. I'm so blessed that we have this tool, this marvelous wonderful tool called the internet that allows us to find each other and lift each other up. If I had known just ONE gay Mormon, setting the example some of you are setting, I probably would have had a much healthier childhood.

9. Hot water.
It seems silly, but every time I am in the shower, I realize that I have the most decadent luxury in the world in my apartment. It makes me immensely happy.

10. Ice.
Another decadent luxury that I can't possibly imagine life without. It's actually one reason I don't look forward to traveling in Europe.

11. Not being stuck anymore.
Even though moving forward is often scary and painful, I'm glad I'm not dammed up--stagnant--anymore. I used to see stories on TV about women in abusive relationships, and I could never understand why they wouldn't just leave--escape from that toxic environment. But now I can relate to what it must be like--I've had a 22 year long abusive relationship with the church, and every day I imagine going back. But there is only forward motion.

12. My bike and my ability to ride and steer with NO HANDS.
I can't tell you how fun it is to ride down the Chandler Bike path in Burbank, steering gracefully around the pedestrians on the sidewalk, using both hands to conduct the music on my iPod as a sail through the brisk evening air. In spite of still feeling kind of sick today, I took this little trip today:

And while I was on this delightful ride, (partially in the rain, which I know is great when you're trying to get healthy) I was able to meet up with some friends for a few moments, get a Grande Carmel Apple Spice drink from Starbucks, and snap the photo at the top of this entry, which I kinda like for some reason. I think it's the power lines, I've always been a fan of power lines.

I wasn't able to get the rainbow on camera, because by the time I went inside to get it, it'd gone.

13. My iPod.
Music helps me get through the day, and having a constant companion that doesn't mind when I sign along to the tunes is invaluable.

14. My workout is yielding results.
As I've stated previously, I've lost about 20 pounds since last summer. If I was more committed, I could lose more, but low and slow seems to be the best way lose weight in such a way as to keep it off. I feel healthier, and more energized now that I attend the gym 3-4 times a week.

15. No one has disowned me.
At the end of the day, my coming out experience was practically painless--at least the pain that was felt was generated solely from within, and not from anyone's outward ignorance.

16. I have sufficient for my needs.
My income surpasses my expenses, and that's without penny pinching. I'm very very blessed.

17. Knowledge that I'm a good person.
I just know it. Sometimes I get down on myself, but I realize I'm doing my best, and I have a real desire to serve, and it part of the reason I know I'm a chosen son of God.

18. Knowledge that God loves me.
Isn't that the greatest thing? I wish I could get a hug from him, but I guess I'll have to deal with his proxies--my friends and family--to feel his love in a physical way. But I do know this is true, even when it feels desperately lonely.

19. My whole life is ahead of me.
I've figured out A LOT for a 22 year old. I am often told that I seem to have it really together for someone my age. In fact, a couple of the guys I've dated have said that they normally go for older guys, but I seem to have my act together... I definitely feel old sometimes.

20. All the times I've screwed up.
Because they make me humble, and help me to learn and grow. One of my favorite quotes is from John N. Mitchell. "The finest steel has to go through the hottest fire". So it shall be with us.

21. Singing!
See #13. I love singing, and it makes me feel good.

22. Living in Southern California.
As much as I miss New England, I am very grateful to be here. The sun generally makes me happy, and California has allowed me to progress in a way I was never capable of back east--Prop 8 catalyzed me into action regarding my sexuality and my future, and in turn motivated me to start getting in shape. It's all wonderful.

23. Each day I get to start over.
Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.

24. Forgiveness.
I think that God sometimes gives us permission to make mistakes and sin. Not because he condones it, but because he is omnipotent, and understands that sometimes, no matter how many times you tell a child that they shouldn't touch the stove, they need to get burned to really understand. For some, they are content to be told and live in faith. But I think I'm that idiot that has to feel the pain himself before he gets the picture. Thankfully, those wounds heal, and all can be forgiven.

25. Me.
This is hard for me to say, because I'm not sure this is something I'm really ready to state, but I'm so exceedingly grateful to be me. To have had my experiences, to have my mind and soul, with all it's hardships and trials, I've had a truly beautiful, rich existence. I'm incredibly lucky to have seen all that I've seen, felt all that I've felt, and accomplished all that I've accomplished. God has put me in a special place in this world, and I still believe that I'm here for a very special purpose.

So hopefully this post will be a cheerier read for all of you. Life is worth living, if only because I need to meet all of you in person one day!

Thanks,

Your friend, Ezra.

Your Lying Eyes

You can't hide your lying eyes! (And your smile is a thin disguise!)

Seriously, though. While at work today in LA, it rained, HARD. After the weather broke, I looked out the window and saw a beautiful white sky--like I'd never seen before.

The problem is, my eyes lie. I see the sky as pure white because it was so bright compared to my dark, warm 2800K office (2800K refers to color tempurature, for those wondering), my eyes saw that beautiful brightness as white. It was heavenly.

But when I got our office's Nikon D50 out to take a shot or two, this is what came off the camera:

Beautiful, yes, but not what I'd seen.   I utilized photoshop and attempted to correct the .NEF (raw data) from the image to try and replicate for you, the home viewer, what I'd seen.

This is still too platinum--it was softer, more inviting, a white as if the heavenly host was about to appear.

*sigh* Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in.

Have a great weekend everyone.

Missionary Position (A One Man Play)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CRASH!

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

"Help, help us, somebody help!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moho Comradrie - Reflections after the New Years Party

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Excitement and Apprehension - Hand-wringing in the New Year

In about 2 hours I begin my 4 hour drive up to the valley of the Great Salt Lake to attend Scott's New Years Moho party/get-together/shindig/bash/hurrah.

Yesterday, I left LA at 6pm, after a long day at work.  I fought valiantly against the rest of Los Angeles, whose taillights formed a red serpent that slithered towards Sin City.   Climbing the mountain and crossing the desert, the winter cold whistled at the window.   My cracked ipod screen prohibits me from listening to my music in any order except alphabetical by artist,  and so I was unable to think straight.  Exhausted and spent much more quickly than usual, my general pattern of driving thrown off by the excess traffic and the morons who insist on driving in the fast lane 10 mph underneath the speed limit (which is about 20 mph underneath the general flow of traffic), I had to stop, nap, and take night photography.

The photo at the right was taken at about 10pm, 8 second exposure, ISO 80, F-3.1 at a ranch exit in California.  Could it be a metaphor for my life?  The road I want to take is unavailable to me...?

I thought I might not make it.  I wondered why I was driving 700 miles.  Spending hundreds of dollars in lost wages from taking extra days off, gas, and food.  What was I doing?  I don't know any of these people!  I read their words on the screen and I hear of their struggles, but I don't know them.  And they don't know me.  What do I expect from this?  What do I want?  What am I nervous about?

I've been thinking about this a lot.  On the one hand I have been super excited about this party since I realized I would actually be able to attend.  The chance to meet a group of people who know what I've been going through, who know the framework of my thoughts, the struggle that it causes, and the crippling indecision that it creates.

When I was still in the closet, I used to subconsciously deny my sexuality by process of comparison.  I had a perception of the elements that made a homosexual, and by process of simple A+B=C, I concluded that if "that" was gay, and "that" certainly wasn't me, then I wasn't gay.

But I now know that there are all kinds of gay men, and I see the blogosphere as the only community I somewhat identify with.  But even there I sometimes feel like an outsider.  Most of the blogs I enjoy reading the most seem to be of good men who are continuing to stay in the church, even if they want a boyfriend or are pursuing a relationship.  For me, as fallout from the Prop 8 battle in California, I lost my testimony.

I lost my testimony.

I've never written or said that before.  But I think it's true.  Am I really a Moho?  I don't know.  But being gay didn't make me lose my faith.  I lost my faith when the things the church taught me my whole life were thrown out the window, and I chose to follow my heart, my conscience.  And sadly, since the church doesn't really allow personal interpretations, I had to leave, lest my faith be constantly questioned by doting members.  I couldn't make it work.  I was tired of trying.  All I can really say these days is that if I'm wrong, and I won't be returning to the kingdom of heaven, at least I'll be in good company.  My father, older sister and brother will all be there... so much for families together forever, I guess.

I closing, I'm very nervous about how this evening will go.  Will I be loved, welcomed and accepted?  Will I make lasting, life-long friends?  Will I learn something about myself?  Will God show me the path I should follow?

Or will it just be another year of "I don't knows".

See you when I see you.  Goodnight.