The Wanderings and Delusions of a Gay Mormon Boy

Fall 2011 Preview: Monday

2011-07-18T14:00:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, chedner and I enjoy our TV quite a bit. This series will look at the new network shows. With any luck, this series will show I have some sort of prowess in picking winners and I’ll be picked out of cyberspace to become a writer or network exec. *nudge, nudge.*

2 Broke Girls, 8:30 on CBS

Two twentysomething women—one from a wealthy family, the other working class—end up working at a diner and living together trying to make ends meet. The jokes aren't that funny and the exec. producer, Whitney Cummings, is a comedienne who isn't that funny. Cummings’ meh-inspiring, gender-based humor didn’t keep her from scoring her own sitcom in a prime slot on NBC Thurs. (link to preview)

Terra Nova, 8:00 on FOX

Catastrophic developments force humanity to abandon Earth and colonize time/space. Little do they know that their new world has a mysterious dark side. Plenty of potential as FOX didn't reveal too much in the trailer (generally a bad sign in my book). Seems to be a cross of Lost, Jurassic Park, and Avatar. A well-hidden hand with plenty of good reveals could keep this series going for a while. (link to preview)

Hart of Dixie, 9:00 on CW

A modern version of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman that lacks the strong female lead it needs to succeed. Rachel Bilson plays a brand new big city doctor who inherits a small-town practice, and comes off just too one note—“one note” as in “blah”; not “one note” as in the awesome Microsoft software. Her presences is just so lukewarm. The premise is a good twist, though. Such a problem could possibly be remedied by a more ensemble focus, but they don't seem to be going that direction. (link to preview)

The Playboy Club, 10:00 on NBC

One of a few new shows aiming to bottle the Mad Men lightning, the series follows a group of playboy bunnies. I feel like it will run out of fuel in the first half of the season. The focus on women in the 60s is a nice inversion of the Mad Men equation though Pan Am (Sundays, 10:00, ABC) I believe, has more potential. I do hope that I’m mistaken, but it reminds me a lot of Studio 60—a good concept that slowly lost weight like a bucket with a hole in it. If the characters in this series are presented with the depth they deserve, there’s potential for this show to make a big crybaby out of me. (link to preview)

Embarrassing Things that Make me Cry #7

2011-07-15T11:00:00.000-07:00

I’m sharing this one because this music video follows my own interpretation of Lady Gaga’s song so much. The official video was (let’s face it) uninspired.

What this post deserves is an in-depth reading of the latest album as one synthesizing faith, self-confidence, and love in the face of persecution, but I won’t have time for that for a bit. chedner and I have had a few talks about musical empowerment, so I’m glad this video brought it all to the forefront of my mind for at least a video.

Source: http://www.queerty.com/

Your Daily Madonna #1

2011-07-06T17:00:00.000-07:00

Chedner’s convinced me I need to learn a bit more about a certain muse. (Note his blog post on a planned Madonna musical). I start this meandering series imagining what he might have been like as a young Madonna fan.

ME AT NINE, PERFORMING TO MADONNA IN SUMMER '91! from Robert Jeffrey on Vimeo.

Laugh of the Day #35

2011-07-05T17:00:00.000-07:00

Something totally 80s-rific from my reader.

Katy Perry's Last Friday Night Music Video from Katy Perry

Just Friends #1

2011-05-18T10:00:00.000-07:00

I’ve been doing a lot of wonderful soul-searching the past few months and one thing I’ve become more certain of than ever is that I’ve never had sexual feelings for a woman. I suppose the remotest heterosexual thought I have encountered is, I wonder if a woman’s lips would feel any different than Chedner’s perfect ones. That said, none have ever really seemed all that “palatable.”

Based on talk like this (or of other girl parts) makes gay men sound like total misogynists incapable of finding beauty in any woman save their own mother. Well, not really. I just wanted to share this Calvin & Hobbes comic…

before transitioning into my point that I really love the women in my life. Emily, Jacqueline, and Serenity (among others) should know that I wish I had more time to spend with my best girls, and that they’ve not only been amazing examples but inspiration for many aspects of my life including humor, writing, and simply living.

In honor of them, and to balance out the gratuitous Man Harem posts (which I enjoy quite a bit), I christen a new series of posts for beautiful women I would die (figuratively speaking) to be friends with.

Zooey Deschanel

If you haven’t noticed, I have a bit of an Indie vein to my tastes. It’s no vena cava, but it’s there. As Indie girl poster child (imitated by many a Mormon mommy blogger) in my book, I’ve got to say her look, her voice, and her humor really hit that if-only-she-were-a-boy nerve. (May you all appreciate those hyperlinks).

Question: What more could the girl have going for her? A music career, movie roles (I must say that she saved Hitchhiker’s Guide from the abyss), a husband with musical talent, enormous (and well-managed bangs, etc. Answer: a new sitcom which will either be really good or really bad. Here’s the trailer for The New Girl:

Lately, I’ve just been craving a good “Just Friends” coffee date banter:

…

“Will Ferrell isn’t nearly as annoying in person.”

“Seriously? It’s hard to handle him in anything but Stranger than Fiction, IMO.”

“What about Elf?”

“…and Elf.”

“Thank you.”

“…On a good day. I tease, I tease.”

“You watch it now….”

“Deal. Now please tell me kissing Joseph Gordon-Leavitt was underwhelming, so I can feel less jealous.”

…

Haiku #2

2011-05-06T12:30:00.000-07:00

        Just a quick I love you note:
           thinking of your smile
        and dreaming of your curry.

Haiku #1

2011-05-06T12:00:00.000-07:00

Thanks for last night. Even though
we were apart, I
felt so close to you last night.

Mashup #10

2011-04-25T23:35:00.001-07:00

So as to avoid this blog completely turning into a Doctor Who blog I now present a mashup of a TV show and a movie which are both in their respective top 5s of the last three years:

That said, the return of the Doctor (in Utah no less) deserves a few posts of its own….

Mashup #9

2011-03-19T18:00:00.000-07:00

All Things British and Beautiful

This one combines several lovely things:

Doctor Who
Hugh Grant *le sigh*
Absolutely Fabulous
Rowan Atkinson
slightly veiled inappropriate jokes….

The Countdown is on #2

2011-03-18T14:00:00.000-07:00

Doctor Who is back April 23. In the meantime, enjoy the new Red Nose Day charity segments featuring our friends Rory, Amy, and the Doctor.

Tomorrow: What do you get when you cross the Doctor, Mr. Bean, AbFab, and Hugh Grant?

Laugh of the Day #37

2011-03-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

I very much identify with this series of videos. I’m proud to be disappointing.

Disappointing Gay Best Friend - GOIN' OUT from mikalabierma on Vimeo.

Ghosts of Gays Gone by #1

2011-03-15T16:00:00.000-07:00

A Radio Reading

The uninitiated might not realize it, but there’s more diversity than you’d expect in the sphere of gay Mormon blogging. Blogs range from conservative to liberal, married to divorced, agnostic to faith-filled, and so on. It’s not often I voice my appreciation for this diversity, but I hope that the same can be said of my observations here. Naturally, we can’t agree with everything we see, but the only way to understand is to read opinions and experiences that challenge our own. (Some specific nods go to Original Mohomie and Invictus Pilgrim whose experiences and modes of thought/examination differ from my own).

As I prepare another exhibit for the Utah Pride Festival, my thoughts turn again to the past, especially to the recent past. I remember a time when I felt like a bad person for enjoying Ellen’s 1990s sitcom as a kid, a time when I thought homosexuality didn’t exist, a time when I thought being gay was as much a choice as experimenting with drugs.

Well, time moved on and I grew up, realizing the world wasn’t the picture that I’d painted. I’m still adding figures and changing the palette. I’m still learning to add dimension, light, and shadow to that canvas. Every story and every life seems to enlighten that vision a bit more, and though my life can’t be bound to a canvas (or a metaphor for that matter) I feel this process of revision—Socrates’ “examined life,” if you will—makes me a thankful person. In preparing to leave Utah, I find it a cultural trait that I hope to keep intact—a process of perfection.

A wonderful radio story brought me to this observation in recent weeks. It’s a This American Life episode from 1996 with the theme of Double Lives. The first part of the program is devoted to closeted married men and explores the dilemmas of shielding that identity from a child. The first act presents the perspective of Susan Bergman, a woman whose father AIDS before coming out to his family and dying. The second act is a conversation with a man explaining why he doesn’t share his sexuality with his two adult daughters.

The program is provocative and perhaps distressing in the presentation of two people on two sides of very similar stories. It’s telling of our own situations as well as those of men just 15 years ago. I’d recommend it for a good reflection.

Man Harem Inductee #8

2011-03-14T13:00:00.000-07:00

A note before today’s post: I’m still here. I’ve been rather busy for the past months and I’m working through several projects. Hopefully, you’ll hear more from me more regularly very soon.

Today’s post starts with a bit of a confession. In 2003, one of my dreams was to work for NPR. As it so happens, this week they have an opening, but I’ve moved past that dream. I recall writing an essay (for a one-credit workshop on the art of autobiography) comparing my childhood hometown in rural Utah to Mayberry and Garrison Keillor’s Lake Woebegone.

I’d confess to mission companions that some days I missed the voices of Diane Rehm, Fiona Richie, and Ira Flatow as much as my family and friends. As a result, I gained the reputation of “Elder granola-hippie-metro-commy-touchy-feely-smarty-pants,” but

c'est la vie. If that’s a bad reputation, I’ll proudly stand by it, I thought.

Upon my return, I auditioned for a spot on the local station, but my stutter got in the way. Writing, literature, and research took precedent, and I moved on. I also moved on as I met some radio personalities. Listening, you create a certain face to go with the voice, the intonation, the sense of humor. Then one day, you run into a personality at a random meeting and it’s like watching your father take off the Santa Claus suit.

Then, sometimes, it’s just what you’d hoped for all along.

Ira Glass

One of the best dates Chedner and I have had was Netflix-ing our way through the TV series This American Life. I’d been a fan of the radio series from the first time I’d listened to it almost a decade ago.

I suppose a lot of relationships is being able to share joy in all of its forms and in this particular instance it was shared appreciation for humor and insight into the human experience. That said, it was also pretty obvious we appreciated our host, Ira Glass. His humor and his charm managed to come across better than I’d expected—enough so that I teased Chedner about having some geeking out fantasies as we watched, which I admit is obvious projection.

Experiences like these—the ones in which we admit to sharing feelings we’re perhaps embarrassed to share initially—have been a learning experience. It’s easy to endear yourself to someone you understand, or, rather, someone you work to understand (and work to be understood by).

Sure my fantasy of a nice, nerdy Jewish boy with a geeky voice and hipster glasses may seem like an odd piece of me, but there is comfort in the fact that I feel like sharing every single nerdy schoolboy shred of myself with someone for the first time in my life.

Laugh of the Day #37

2011-02-10T22:00:00.000-08:00

A warning:

Will somebody please think of the books?!

I’m Dating Emily Dickinson

2011-02-08T19:00:00.000-08:00

At a recent lecture I attended, I realized that I’m dating the deceased 19th-Century, forward-thinking poet. Chedner sure has a lot going for him, and it struck me that he has a lot in common with her. Brilliant, somewhat anti-social, beautiful and enigmatic.

Dickinson’s Rules for Writing (by P. Crumbley):

Require reader choice.
Avoid editors.
Demand athletic, gymnastic readers.
Challenge conventional, fixed notions of nature.
Refuse complacency.
Trust agony.

After the lecture, I came to the speaker and mentioned the striking resemblance Chedner holds to Dickinson in mind, passion, and pen. His response: “You’re fortunate to know such a person: I’d like to meet someone like that.”

I’m a lucky guy.

On the Way to Work #1

2011-02-01T11:00:00.000-08:00

On my way to work I spotted a sign:

On my way to work I spotted a sign
And on this sign was written something asinine:

The Escape, Part 6

2011-01-28T13:00:00.000-08:00

Quorum of Elders

So many aspects of the last few weeks had been thoroughly evanescent. Moments of happiness and epiphany would dissipate as suddenly as they appeared. With my trip to Chile looming on the horizon, connections with people and with my situation seemed impossible. The experience was agonizingly ephemeral—like walking on clouds and realizing there’s nothing supporting you. My feet hungered for solid ground as I tread the air.

Dennis was the last person I expected to ground me emotionally. He drank. He dated with more frequency than I did. He’d just gotten out of a long term relationship, and talked about it to a point that a sense of uncomfortable empathy crept up even in strangers at the next booth of restaurants. That said, he was almost proud that he’d found rock bottom perhaps because it is the one place the optimist-at-heart truly feels at home.

He was sensitive enough to pick up on the fact that I was in the same place in a philosophical sense. I was starting over and opening myself to the possibilities I’d avoided and denounced for the last year of my life. The moral codes that I’d lived up to for so long—abstaining from alcohol and pornography, sex and coffee, etc.—no longer made sense in the grand scheme of things. After a few dates, this was still at the core of our conversations.

“You know I’ve been there before,” he revealed one night (inasmuch as anyone can reveal the obvious). “Practically every one of us in Utah has, or at least we’ve dated them, and I’ve dated a lot of them.”

“Yeah?”

“More recently, but I’m slowing down. You’re interesting and not in that ‘Ooh, he’s a virgin’ sense of allure. I can’t often sit down with another guy who understands and appreciates every single reference from an episode of Gilmore Girls.”

Neither of us pretended we weren’t seeing other people or weren’t checking out our options, but he’d let down his guard. He let me know I wasn’t a sexual conquest with a deadline. I was unsettled in that I’d prepared for our dates to amount to nothing. He was someone I’d want to pursue when I returned from South America, someone to whom I could share the most vital pieces of my body and soul, someone with whom I could do more than watch Gilmore Girls or 30 Rock or Grey’s Anatomy (as had become ritual in the short time we’d known each other), but I’d conditioned myself to not expect that—in one sense, not until after returning from Chile and, in another, not ever.

The contemplative, awkward silence following his admission broke with a simple, pointed question: “What do you think your life is based on right now? Just living the moment, finding your place?”

“I might ask you the same thing,” I said simply to stall for time as I wasn’t sure in the moment. “I guess I just want to be happy and wasn’t so I needed a change.”

“That does make a lot of sense, but what’s next? Is your life any different now that you’ve stopped going to church or taken off the garments?” he asked seriously before a stilted aside to lighten the tone “…(which, by the way, are the opposite of sexy).”

“Well,” I said through my awkward chuckle. “I’ve spent a lot of time learning to trust in one thing. It’s a hard transition to believe in other people whether that be you or my best friend or even me.

“You’ll get there,” he said as if he knew my answer better than I did. “It wasn’t like I jumped right into bed with someone or started drinking the moment I was done with the church. It’s basically not even possible in places like Ephraim.”

Dennis and I were similar enough that we picked up on what the other was thinking quite often, as it was so easy to put ourselves in the other’s situation romantically speaking. We were both in a vulnerable state of putting ourselves together and mixing up the pieces at times, so we kept each other at a comfortable distance. Our moments of discussing the seriousness were offset ten fold by conversations on television and theatre providing a connection we felt more prepared with.

“GMB, I want you to meet some friends of mine,” Dennis mentioned cuddling one night to the sound of Buffy the Vampire Slayer blasting away in the background. “We don’t agree on everything, but I think we both need to be around some people who are satisfied with their life right now.”

“Who are these people and why the sudden urge to hang out?” I asked half-asleep (not sharing his enthusiasm for 90s fantasy television) and not in the most social of moods.

His taciturn response of “You’ll see” proved itself true after a quick walk across the gayborhood.

As we approached a small red brick duplex, I flashed back to several memories from my missionary time in Brazil. It was like every time I’d meet a family for the first time. They’d happily welcome the new missionary to town with a small party or a big dinner. In much the same way my companions explained to me the history of that particular family, Dennis shared the backstory of the house’s residents.

“Well, they’ve been together three years and they met in Provo at BYU. It was the fairytale romance minus the genders. They have people over for game nights every week. They don’t drink or smoke. This group is probably the Mormon-iest group of gays you could assemble.”

That night satisfied some form of nostalgia within me. Clearly, the ten men and women I met that night had found a way to embrace what they’d been taught their entire life despite as well as the emotions that countered those teachings in one way or another. Perhaps it was Dennis’ way of showing me that happiness was in reach sooner than I’d thought and that forsaking the past completely was not a viable option for me or for him.

Laugh of the Day #36

2011-01-18T11:00:00.000-08:00

For this duck author:

I hope things get better soon.

Much love,

GMB

Glee Withdrawals #4

2011-01-13T21:00:00.000-08:00

Sure, it only returns in a few weeks (Super Bowl Sunday, Feb. 6), but I could sure use a good escape. What better escape is there than a show where 28 year-old actors pretend they’re still in high school.

The following is funny for the first minute… perhaps minus a certain finger gag.

Nuthin' But A Glee Thang with Heather Morris, Matthew Morrison & Sofia Vergara from Heather Morris

Food for Thought #32

2011-01-13T09:00:00.000-08:00

A gem of a film shot entirely with mobile phones cameras in 2008. I’ve been thinking a lot about compassion lately and this film came to mind.

~Blush~ #1

2011-01-10T12:00:00.000-08:00

The scene: mailroom at work
Characters: yours truly; Alice, a fabulous blond 40-something woman who fantasizes about the day she’ll teach a course in sarcasm.

Enter GMB. Beginning to sort mail, he mumbles last names to himself as he searches for the correct slots.

GMB (mumbling): Donner, Salmon, Allegheny….

Alice enters.

GMB: Hey, Alice.

Alice: Back from break, I see?

GMB: Yeah. Never long enough, are they?

Alice: You’re sounding a little tired today.

GMB (grabbing his neck): I woke up a little sore this morning. I think I slept on my neck wrong.

Alice (craning in slightly and squinting): I'm sure it felt good to begin with.

GMB: What do you mean?

Alice (teasing): At least I have the excuse of a curling iron burn, GMB. I know a hickey when I see one.

GMB (blushing): I thought that was gone. I’m fixing the lighting in my bathroom.

Alice: I’m giving you a makeup lesson as a belated Christmas gift.

Laugh of the Day #35

2011-01-07T20:00:00.000-08:00

Appearing the same day the missionaries stopped by chedner’s place (again).

I’m grateful for the universe’s sense of humor.

A GMB Glossary, Vol. 3:

2011-01-06T22:00:00.000-08:00

A Thought

I was reading a fairly mainstream LDS blog called Mormonism Unveiled the other day. The post titled “Mormon Messages: Elder Dallin C. Oaks Speaks Out On Marriage And Divorce; Divorced Members Are Not ‘Second-Class Saints’” stuck a nerve. The post quotes extensively from the 2007 General Conference talk mentioned in the title.

As I read the article highlighting marriage as a requirement for exaltation, and the appropriate reasons for entering and exiting the bonds of matrimony. The most important point, however, struck me as a rather relatable one for gay and lesbian members of the church. Something else in the piece caught my attention, though. Three words:

Second-Class Saint

Jack Mormon (the blogger) used the term to describe a misconception that divorced Mormons are inferior to married Mormons. I think the term might be useful in the gay Mormon discussion. Because the greatest form of salvation is tied to marriage and marriage isn’t that perfect, natural fit for gay Mormons, it’s easy for us to feel consigned to a less fulfilling life. No other term I’ve seen has really described the way the situation sat with me.

Enjoy and feel free to spread it around.

The Escape, Part 5

2011-01-05T21:00:00.000-08:00

Beginning of Beginnings

¡Hola, voluntários!

We’re excited to meet you in the coming weeks. Remember that training will begin at Hostelling International on Cienfuegos in Santiago three weeks from Friday. Training will take place everyday8-5 through the following Wednesday before you head off to your assignments. We’re still in the process of tying down housing and teaching assignments, but don’t worry. Everything will work out. Again, don’t forget to send us your itinerary as we’ ll have someone waiting to pick you up.

Léo

A sense of relief tugged at a corner of my heart. Blanketed in the anxiety of building a new understanding of life, my chest had been in a state of static tension. A tepid, undulating sensation rose slightly and slowly for a moment and receded like a morning tide over the beach. Glimpses of hope for myself, for beliefs I’d lost and accepting the new life ahead of me lay in dates like the one I’d had with Charlie and with this opportunity to escape and find myself on another continent. As in Canada the summer before, I felt I didn’t need to bring the metaphorical baggage of a year of identity-questioning torment. I prepared myself to be me, but wondered just how much that was true and how much this conflict was a part of me.

Moments of insight had been fleeting for months as questions inescapably hung like an albatross around my neck: Have I really made the right call? Have I forgotten a piece of the greater picture? Is there a magic bullet solution for making my gay and Mormon parts of me work effortlessly in tandem? Should I be as worried as I am about the possibilities of alcohol and sex as I am? Was I right in the first place to prepare for a life alone?

My life was by no means a wreck, but my beliefs were. Trust in yourself was the philosophy that tore people away from happiness according to what I’d learned in the past two decades of my life. Why should I expect things to get any better in my own hands? Are those glimmers of hope enough to abandon everything?

***

“That was the end of it. I was prepared to do anything for him and then he faked a mental breakdown. Everything seemed in reach. Being a husband. Being a provider. Being a father to his kids….”

In a way, his monologue felt prepared. He’d told the story before, emphasizing the same points, processing the trauma of the situation—the rejection, the anger, the frustration. It was like an echo: pieces of the past faintly converging on the present, tempering themselves to the air, and becoming something else completely.

Dennis was going through a similar catharsis, which I considered as I fumbled around with my chopsticks practicing before I humiliated myself. He’d lost his identity much as I had. Instead of having a lover abandon me, I felt as if my beliefs had. Emotional torment was nothing new. I’d just finished a class on trauma in literature, which perhaps drew my attention to this aspect of my own pain. He let me vent my own rejection, anger, and frustrations.

Cross-legged at the floor table, he politely listened, meticulously preparing bites of steak, soy, and rice. My concerns were nothing new. He’d been in the same situation a year ago, and realized just as I had that we had much to offer one another in that moment. We were more than damaged goods enduring one another’s stories so that we could get some action later. He was intelligent enough to realize that and so was I.

Perhaps that is why the date turned around quickly. Once the painful was out of the way and once we knew we both cared, even the most embarrassing details of our life became endearing.

“I’m the most unoriginal dater,” Dennis admitted. “This is maybe my tenth first date here. It just works.”

I looked across the table to his brown eyes, amber in the light of the lamps shaped like pagodas. A befuddled smile appeared on his face revealing his notably large teeth.

“I’ve probably been on that many first dates this month,” I said as I felt the rippling sensation of a blush on my cheeks.

“Don’t worry. We’ve all been there.”

Why would anyone want to hide those?, I thought to myself.

As we spent the rest of the night on his couch making out to the sound of John Hughes movies playing in the background, I asked, fearing I’d lose the chance falling asleep in the warmth and comfort of his arms, “When can we do this again?”

Laugh of the Day #34

2011-01-04T17:00:00.000-08:00

If I tried writing in the mornings, this is what my writing would feel like. Nevertheless, the moral of the story is a good one:

(via Cognitive Dissenter)

Jumping on the Resolution Train

2011-01-03T06:00:00.000-08:00

…Pardon the pause in the current series….

In college, I mentored quite a few incoming freshmen. One of the exercises I had them do (mostly to see if they were capable of following instructions). They had to set four goals in four different areas: social, physical, academic, and professional. I suppose it’s time to practice what I preach, though my goals here will avoid major spoilers for the content of the blog.

Social

Keep my place(s) clean enough for company.
Find time for friends in Logan and elsewhere an average of once a week excluding regular meetings. (8 events a month).
Try out some double dates with couples friends. (Sundance anyone?)
Foster relationships with my roomies.

Physical

Hit the gym four times a week for an hour each time.
Feel better about myself so I can better enjoy time with chedner, working towards goal weight of 165.
Get back my running stamina from six months ago by March.
Vegetables and whole grains every day.

Academic

Finish the “correspondence” project.
Finish paper on Pushing Daisies and Big Love.
Submit one more paper presentation.
Get accepted to at least one PhD program or prepare new game plan.

Professional/Writing (because that’s what I hope to be)

Finish “museum” piece and update minutes.
Finish IGB video and volunteer on Pride committee again.
Complete a series a month with significant posts (500+ words) Mon., Weds., and Fridays. Reply to comments within a business day.
Look into getting a literary agent.

Back to the series in progress soon….

The Escape, Part 4

2010-12-29T14:00:00.000-08:00

Puberty, Part II

It’s been said that coming out to yourself is like going through adolescence all over again. Awkwardness. Angst. Enamor. This time, however, the experience was authentic; rather than feeling dulled or hollow versions of those emotions, the fullness and weight of it all had finally hit me. In this state of second adolescence, age arguably became less significant, especially for me coming to terms with their sexuality at the age of twenty-four instead of fourteen.

While I would never have considered going out with eighteen and nineteen year-old girls (due 1st to the complete lack of connection and 2nd to what I considered the “perv factor”), the idea of dating guys that age seemed inconsequential. They had a better grip on internal religious conflict, the dating scene, and sexuality itself while I had barely come to the conclusion that I wanted a sexual relationship with another man. In a way, these eighteen and nineteen year-olds such as Billie were my seniors. I deferred to and appreciated their experience. That didn’t keep me from doing things that skewed immature.

***

Five years my younger, Charlie remarkably seemed the type of person I hoped to be in five years’ time. At peace psychologically and religiously, out to his family, and engaged in pursuing a husband. He was in town chasing down bits of his past from over a decade ago when his father was a grad student at the university. I offered to help him revisit those pieces of his childhood over lunch at his family’s restaurant of choice, A&W’s.

“I’ve only been here once since my dad graduated,” he explained, pulling his mouth away from the frosty mug of root beer. “We didn’t really have family here, but once in a while I’ll have a memory from the playground up here or my place or the old church and think I’m happy now in part because I was happy here and then. I guess this is my way of keeping that. I appreciate you spending the day doing this.”

I looked up from the mess of crumpled hamburger wrappers and used up ketchup packets. “Really, any day out is a step towards sanity, in my opinion. I’ve been going crazy being unemployed and cooped up for the past couple weeks.”

“If you don’t mind driving, I’d really appreciate it. I just want to remember where I grew up. My house, school, the neighborhood.”

“No problem,” I told him.

We made our way to the now-defunct trailer park. All that remained of his home was a set of wooden stairs, weathered and cemented to the ground. We sat down and he put his arm behind me, not quite confident enough to put it around me. He picked up a pebble and tossed it on the asphalt. It bounced a few times and the dull tapping sounds took him back.

He pointed out the patch sidewalk he’d learned to ride a bike and the trailer of another boy he had a crush on. His past held for me glimpses of future. I wanted to be able to teach things to a son or a lover. I wanted to have crushes without consequence as Charlie did twelve years ago. Paradoxically, we were meeting in the middle. As I helped him navigate his past, he helped me navigate my future.

What loomed in the back of my mind was an inescapable notion that monogamous gay relationships did not exist, though I’d seen them with my own eyes. Charlie had overcome that obstacle. Letting go wasn’t something he consciously considered at every moment as I had for well over a year. Life was life and love was love. It was as if that childhood simplicity never escaped him.

We ended the day in the park. It was a place we shared in memory: croquet, ice skating, horse shoes, barbeques, and wading in waist deep water. Now the stream only approached our knees. We took a seat at the creek’s edge pulling ripples across the surface as if turning back pages of water with our toes.

I looked around wondering about this collision of past innocence and my present ambition to pursue a full relationship. I knew things couldn’t remain so simple and care free, but that moment was as close as my innocence and experience could approach each other. As Charlie put his arm around me and pulled himself a few inches closer, I knew those calm and carefree years were not gone forever.

Drops of summer sun rained on us through the canopy of maples and spruces as I stared at his face. Nose and ears endearingly a tad larger than one would expect, and droopy blue eyes. Without a word, he knew to kiss me in the open in the daylight for all to see. Joy was joy and innocence innocence for a moment and worry escaped me.

Laugh of the Day #33

2010-12-28T07:00:00.000-08:00

I suppose this is more of an “OMGosh!” than a chuckle, but take a look at this production even if you don’t care for Mme. Gaga:

Those of you reading at USU should consider topping this little number.

Laugh of the Day #32

2010-12-27T20:00:00.000-08:00

Another educational video for your pleasure:

From GMB and Chedner

2010-12-24T22:00:00.000-08:00

A Merry Coexistmas card from us:

(Go ahead and guess who’s who).

A Holiday Message from GMB

2010-12-23T17:00:00.000-08:00

Merry

mas

Let me just shed a little light on my new holiday à la Community (in its stop motion glory). This year the show taught us that the true meaning of Christmas is what you make of it regardless of belief, creed, or culture. At least at present, Christmas is a time for appreciating peace and difference. I know I’m coming off a little “hippie” for the tastes of most, but I offer up my love to all of you and say thanks.

Food for Thought #31

2010-12-20T15:00:00.000-08:00

“There are hundreds of languages in the world, but a smile speaks them all.”

-- Anonymous

Good News, Bad News #2

2010-12-17T22:00:00.000-08:00

Good news: I found these on ebay yesterday.

Bad news: 24 hours later, they disappeared. Along with Donald, Mickey, and Goofy versions. No birthday/Christmas present to me, I guess….

The Escape, Part 3

2010-12-17T00:00:00.000-08:00

Just Keep Swimming

So, the time had come to jump back into the big pond of little gay fish. After a short and thoughtful break, it seemed appropriate to put myself back on the meat market. Another rainbow slab on a hook waiting to get some attention. My passive approach to dating left me in a rather dependent position, appreciating what praise I received, but essentially leaving myself to rot.

During that month of inevitable unemployment, I spent many hours lounging around the local internet cafes writing and reading intermittently as I left open a newly-revised Connexion profile and waited for a bite. Here and there: a conversation, a number, a date. It felt like progress—like I wasn’t wasting time.

What resulted were a set of experiences that left me excited, unnerved, and puzzled as to what I should expect from myself in my apparent escape from the dissatisfaction with the Church at this point in my life. Though this was a serious improvement over sitting still and waiting for life to make sense, the lessons learned were perhaps not as welcome or profound as one in my position would hope.

***

Glen suggested we meet up sometime when I found myself in Utah Valley. What followed was a tension of “This can’t get worse, but it certainly will before it gets better” moments. Upon arrival in Provo, he asked if I minded picking him up after his stepfather had his car repossessed.

As everyone knows, that’s never a good sign.

For the next forty-five minutes of my life (yes, the date remained notably the shortest of my life), I regretted what the universe had to offer in that particular moment. Each moment of the date was spent in a suicidal death spiral contemplating the inevitable, painful ending. I’ve managed to repress everything about that short date with the exception of a marathon lunch he ordered and expected me to pay for, a solid half hour of thank yous for getting him away from World of Warcraft for a bit, and explanations as to the four or so times he’d dropped out of college to pursue a career as some sort of ogre.

Needless to say, the date turned out to be somewhat of a challenge to my patience. I didn’t really give an excuse for the date ending so early, but let’s just say when the ending is the best part of a story, there’s more reason to rush through the story.

***

Billie picked up very quickly that I was new to the world of dating without Mormon reservations. Even though he was nineteen, he had been there before and took pride in being my guide through a foreign land. We met up for lunch and a walk through Memory Park.

“You wonder a lot, don’t you?” he asked.

Briefly picturing myself as Dante and him as Virgil, I responded, “I’d say thought and words are what makes me who I am, I suppose.”

“What do you think about when you see a cute guy?”

“I look at his hand and think what it would feel like in mine and at his lips and imagine their taste.”

“I wonder if you’ll stay that way,” he said slanting an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“My guess is you’ve never had sex before. You would have had a different answer or had a harder time explaining as innocently as you did.”

“You’ve got me pegged,” I said smirking reservedly at the phallic irony.

“Let me just tell you you’re doing this the right way. Making I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, “at the end of the date.” We continued winding our way through the park as he shared with me the mistakes he felt I could learn from.

“You’ll thank me for this someday,” he said as we got out of the car. It was clear he’d shared with me horror stories of coming out, dating, and sex as some sort of cautionary tale. In some way, I think this instruction became a form of redemption for him.

He put his arm around my back and pointed me in the direction of a chocolate-colored wooden building.

“Under other circumstances, you would probably be shitting your pants by now,” he teased as he opened the door.

I stepped in and noted the surroundings. Orange-brown carpet, chairs from an 80s high school cafeteria, a pair of end tables in either corner of the room—on one a stack of clipboards and the other a bowl of condoms.

“Take a few of these,” Billie said, placing one in my palm.

“Um, thanks,” I blurted out. It was the first time I’d knowingly held one in my hand. I squeezed it and felt sensations of cool and smooth between my thumb and index finger—a pocket of air and ribbed rings of latex against latex. This is what the future feels like?

“It’s best to know what it’s like to be tested before you have to worry about it. Just fill out this form and go to the desk when they call your number.”

“How many times have you had oral sex in the last 3 months?” “Anal sex?” “Vaginal?” “Number of partners?” “6 months?” “Year?”

“Zero.”

“None.”

“Never.”

“Zero.”

A smile opened up on the counselor’s impassive face as she peered up from his clipboard, put down his pen, and asked one last question off the record. “Ever?” she asked, raising her tone slightly.

“Zero,” I answered floating through waves of satisfaction and embarrassment.

“You, sir, are at very low risk. Your results were negative.”

Mashup #8

2010-12-14T08:00:00.000-08:00

Dr. Whoess

I’d pay good money for a fleshed out version.

Happy Birthday (or Else)

2010-12-13T19:00:00.000-08:00

Some goals for the month:

Finish grad school apps by my birthday, so that it can be a happy one.
Finish the current Escape series by the end of the month.
Hit 300 posts for the year even if it’s through miniscule meaningless posts such as this one.

Laugh of the Day #33

2010-12-07T19:00:00.000-08:00

Based on that swimsuit, I think you’ll need to try harder.

The Escape, Part 2

2010-12-06T13:00:00.000-08:00

Illusion of Order

A friend once explained to me why he took issue with the casual use of OCD as a term thrown around to describe nervous tendencies regarding order.

“People like to think they’re special or that they understand simply by putting a name on a behavior. Well, just because you say something like, ‘I like to have all of my pens aligned and in the right order’, or ‘All of the towels have to be folded my way,’ or ‘I just have to eat things in the order they taste best,’ doesn’t mean you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. In a way, it’s much more beautiful in its complexity and paradox.”

“I seek order in things. I think them out with incredible order, but this order leads to chaos. That’s what the “C” in OCD stands for. Compulsion is, by definition, unexplainable. And when there’s no explanation, you just deal. The only way for me to get past that kind of a wall is to go against my nature. I do the opposite. I think the opposite. I suppose I work to bend then break the rule, bringing order from what I’m sure will bring terror and chaos.”

For me to escape my own anxiety, I needed to go against my impulses and question some of my most fundamental programming. I, then, had to ask the most selfish question one can ask, “What do I want?,” and face its implications as they floated at the forefront of my mind. If you put your happiness before everything else, you’re going to become a terrible person, I would tell myself.

My efforts to please those around me and to construct a harmony for others had left my own internal life in a state of disarray. Change became a more and more necessary aspect of my sanity. Without the excuse of school or work, the force driving my life no longer held chaos in confinement. Meandering and moving more slowly, the mass of motivations and meanings no longer held together. Pieces slipped out of their places as the once coalesced compartments of my life began their inevitable process of disintegration.

The Gay Mormon Boy I knew could no longer exist in the form I had constructed so carefully. One piece had to give under the pressure of another, and it did.

All I really asked for was peace and happiness, and those simple ideas had been out of reach for so long. A year ago, I’d believed my happiness depended upon finding that perfect woman that at the core of my heart I knew did not exist. First, I thought the only (and quite naively) necessary shift to that worldview was based in gender, but it became increasingly obvious that I needed to prepare myself to completely uproot myself and begin anew. Before, I could do that, it was necessary for me to wilt a bit.

After some consideration, I realized that the answer didn’t lay in the introspection I dwelled upon or in myself, but rather in experience. If I was going to redefine life itself, I would need to do so by living or remain forever undefined in an enduring state of limbo. As the last weeks had been a process of closing, the process of opening myself up—to taking in a deep breath after suffocating for so long—suddenly made sense.

As other matters such as my vaccinations and teaching materials for my impending trip to Chile began to take precedence and the idea of looking for what I wanted became much more welcoming. Anti-charitable as it might sound, the fact that I was taking three months of my life making a difference in the life of kids a continent away provided me with the solace allowing me to break through my sense of guilt and selfishness for wanting happiness outside of Mormonism. You are a good person. You deserve to be happy.

With that assertion, I recalled the joys I’d experienced in the arms of Mark before he’d taken up the mantle of missionary, of finding someone so well adjusted, happy, and normal in Evan, and finally the connection to someone striving to be a good guy after returning from a mission and accepting his homosexuality in Anson. Those were the happiest times of my life. I found joy in my experiences with these other men and in myself and not in the dictates of the consciences of others.

You will find your answers—your happiness—in people, I picking up a package of stickers. Dozens of smiley faces peered up at me, each happy in their own distinct manner. Do not hide your light.

Find it.

Share it.

…Leads to Do Shave December

2010-12-06T09:00:00.000-08:00

So, lacking the time to shave it off in stages, I ended up with a hipster-stache:

before shaving it all off:

… because somebody needed his sleep at 9 pm….

No Shave November…

2010-12-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

For the sake of prostate cancer research awareness (and curiosity), I took the challenge:

Sad but True #1

2010-12-03T13:00:00.000-08:00

Geez, the state of politics isn’t the least bit unnerving these days:

BTW—Ed Stein, you’ve been a hero of mine for a long time.

Blog-Related Dream

2010-12-03T09:00:00.000-08:00

Last night, I had a semi-terrifying dream that this blog was used for evil. After watching an episode of Dexter (a show for which I’m still forming an opinion). I dreamt that somebody was using the blog and hacking into my phone records to out every guy I’d mentioned one-by-one.

Towards the end of the dream, he sent an intricate map of Utah noting the exact location of each date. There was a note attached demanding “repentance” and becoming some sort of ex-gay spokesman. The psychologically terrifying dream led me to sleep through my alarm. Oh well.

Laugh of the Day #32

2010-12-01T15:00:00.000-08:00

This is how I feel after staying up all night to get my first grad application in:

You’d better know what this is. Otherwise, I will be extremely disappointed.

Real posts soon, I’m sure. BLB’s showing me up as of late.

The Escape, Part 1

2010-11-29T15:00:00.000-08:00

Deconstruction

For so long, I’d made the decision not to decide. My disciplined life walking the proverbial line between gay and Mormon had finally spun in a direction I could no longer control. As depression and resentment began to form the currents of the gyre of my life, any decision seemed better than the fate which lay ahead. In that moment, I was done with it all. With my impending departure for Chile a month away, the time had come to escape my everyday deluge.

For the time being, I was finished with the search for Mr. Right. I was also done with the Church and constant reflection in the misery of my making. For the past year, I’d made every possible effort to make the impossible work, but—like a toppling tower of blocks pulled to precarious station one-by-one—no matter how deliberate my actions or my intentions, the inescapable fate became clearer with each passing moment. Instead of losing, I reinvented my own game.

My life entered an epic of reevaluation. If I wasn’t happy in my conflicted state or even before I realized my homosexuality and lived the life of a faithful Mormon boy, change and growth were the only logical motions. My mind kept returning to the words which seemed so rooted in my conflict—a conflict of happiness in this world versus that in the supposed world to come: “'Life is to be enjoyed, not endured.” These words from the now-deceased prophet Gordon B. Hinckley rang of a universal human love. No sane person wants suffering for himself or others, but that was my state.

Living for pleasure or even relishing the moments as they came had in some ways been ingrained as unproductive and sinful based upon the combination of my drives and upbringing. My father had taught me that not making each moment productive was a form of setting myself up for failure, and while completing one task I should be contemplating the next. The resulting state of constant worry with a constant flux of motivations began to come into question along with a more worrisome question as to the value of life. Fortunately, life had meaning in the sense that suffering was not an end—the same set of blocks, the same ambitions and emotions, the same people and experiences could be reconstructed into something meaningful and even beautiful.

Unemployed and unsure of the future before venturing across the globe to Chile to further contemplate and to teach English, I spent a month attempting to shift gears to a slower pace in life. Unable to find a job before my departure, I spent my days in self-conscious attempts at relaxation: reading, bathing in the sunlight of my back yard, and wrapping my mind around my attempt to escape the faith of my fathers. One morning, fanned by an early summer breeze and smelling of coconut tanning oil, I stumbled upon words I needed in that moment and have guarded ever since.

It was a simple line of poetry by Anton Wildgans: “What is to give light must endure burning.” An obscure Austrian reference that might not have otherwise had impact on me suddenly pulled itself to the forefront. While I’d been taught in religion that the bitter made the sweet sweeter and dark made the light lighter, a certain sense of comfort lay in making suffering somehow less abstract. Though I had no idea what future stood in front of me, I knew that my past, that my caution, that my religion, and my desires of the past twenty-four years would not go to waste.

Lessons from Childhood #3; Man Harem Must See #3

2010-11-28T18:00:00.000-08:00

I’ve been doing some thinking lately about dreams which has taken me back to childhood. After watching Tangled (featuring Man Harem pick Zachary Levi), I’m feeling pretty lucky about how far I’ve come and how lucky I am to have my friends and family in my life.

I suppose this has become a belated Thanksgiving post, but I could do nothing without the love and support of all of you from Canada down to Chile.

Embarrassing Things That Make me Cry #6

2010-11-24T08:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, Glee gets to me more often than it should, but this particular scene got to me because it reminded me so much of a particular person:

Sacrilege #1

2010-11-22T23:00:00.000-08:00

Sorry to return with something outright wrong:

Goodbye, GRE #2

2010-11-15T21:00:00.000-08:00

So here’s what I’ve been up to instead of blogging for the last two months:

Contemplating the next series as we speak.

In Just Twelve Hours…

2010-11-12T20:00:00.000-08:00

…two months of this:

…will hopefully pay off.

Twelve hours after that…

… tempura night with Romulus, Chedner, et. al.

Mashup #8

2010-11-11T13:00:00.000-08:00

Dexter^2:

Laugh of the Day #31

2010-11-10T00:00:00.000-08:00

This one will screw with you, The Office fans.

Something Special for Googleites

2010-11-09T08:00:00.000-08:00

For best results use Google Chrome

This is a pretty mind-blowing video I saw recently. I’ll say it involves Google maps and some browser intensity, but it is an experience worth beholding. (Yes, this is coming from a would be android user if you were wondering based on Saturday’s post).

Go to: http://thewildernessdowntown.com/

Lessons from Childhood #2

2010-11-08T19:00:00.000-08:00

I just had a flashback to a PBS clip from my early childhood of the crayon factory. Such joy!

It was sparked by this quote:

“Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8-color boxes, but what you're really looking for are the 64-color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I've got a few missing. It's ok though, because I've got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem though in that I can only meet the 8-color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation.. so when I meet someone who's an 8-color type.. I'm like, "hey girl, magenta!" and she's like, "oh, you mean purple!" and she goes off on her purple thing, and I'm like, "no - I want magenta!"”

-- John Mayer

EDIT: Horizon found the Sesame Street Video, so I had to add it:

Laugh of the Day #30

2010-11-07T22:00:00.000-08:00

A random friend showed me this on Facebook and part of me says this girl’s got to go viral:

Food for Thought #30

2010-11-07T16:45:00.000-08:00

Haven’t really been dealing with any grudge issues lately, but this struck me as important to share.

Being at peace is nice.

Laugh of the Day #29

2010-11-06T11:00:00.001-07:00

How smartphone users see each other:

(via JoeMyGod).

So It Is Written…

2010-11-05T13:00:00.000-07:00

Let it be known that here is my list of grad schools (no mention of programs at this point because it’s disadvantageous to have this information not be tied to my applications):

Northwestern
UNC—Chapel Hill
Iowa
Indiana
UPenn
NYU
Rutgers
Utah
Columbia
Howard
Illinois State

It’ll feel more official once I push this little publish button. One, two, three… and here we go.

Not Really My Thing, But…

2010-11-04T20:00:00.001-07:00

Tattoos.

Tattoos aren’t really my thing. I’ll be honest. (So honest I’ll even cite my commitment issues…).

…BUT…

This really fabulous nerdy one showed up in my reader and I recognized it based on the text.

It makes me feel like my studying has not gone to waste.

First one to tell me the work and the author gets a free question via email or on the blog. (My choice).

GMB, Where Are You?

2010-11-03T19:00:00.000-07:00

Okay, for those of you not reading between the lines (and face it, this blog forces you to do just that to get at what I really think about a lot of things) I’m very busy for the next month, so little to no regular thousand-word memoir posts.

I’m going through this at the moment:

Only metaphorically, of course.

Imagine the biggest cram session of your life. You have to remember everything you ever learned in college for a single test. Now, I’m in the midst of a sucking up all of that knowledge again reviewing all of my text books for the big day.

Really, though, it’s kind of fun.

Like S&M for real nerds.

Mashup #7

2010-11-02T15:00:00.000-07:00

There’s an art blog devoted to The Simpsons crossovers you should all check out. Especially my fellow Doctor Who fans. Here’s some of Dean’s work at Springfield Punx:

The perfect combination. (BTW, chedner, when I’m not busy with apps, we’re watching the entire new series).

Laugh of the Day #28

2010-11-02T09:00:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of the season (because I’m not quite ready for the Thanksgiving/Christmas music quite yet):

Man Harem Inductee #7

2010-11-01T20:00:00.000-07:00

As election day nears (don’t forget it’s tomorrow, BTW), I’ve felt a certain ambivalence in regard to politics. In high school, I thought I knew the meaning of the word polarized, but for whatever reason, things have gotten ridiculous. As much as I like SNL sketches about Sarah Palin and Christine O’Donnell, a certain uneasiness overtakes me when someone calls for:

No abortions for anyone including victims of rape and incest (I’m an adoptee, so I could have been one of these babies, BTW).
Abolishing the Department of Education
Dismantling Medicare, social security, public libraries, and NPR
Demanding continuation of tax cuts that don’t benefit me in my particular income bracket.
And let’s not forget the Dems: keeping marriage a states’ rights issue, neglecting Latin American foreign policy, esp. Cuba. (Alright this was a much weaker list…).

That’s why we have this guy:

Chase Whiteside

If “fair and balanced” weren’t terms coopted for political gain, I’d use them to describe this guy. He manages to get at some core issues and hypocrisies simply by asking questions. That’s always what I found enchanting about journalism (my short-lived second major).

Unfortunately, I find that in the 24 hour news cycle, this gem is lost. (A worthy tangent worthy of future discussion, though this isn’t a blog that generally deals with non-gay politics—I’ll leave that to David Baker and Horizon).

I leave with you some of his intelligent interviews first of the Glenn Beck *shutter* rally and then of the Stewart/Colbert rally:

It just goes to show every group has its issues. (I will say that I am up on the local politics).

Mashup #6

2010-11-01T13:00:00.000-07:00

Feels a little pokemon….

…my money’s on Calvin and Hobbes.

Someday… #1

2010-10-31T11:00:00.000-07:00

,,,I’ll have a son or daughter with a room painted like this:

Time to get started on those painting lessons….

My Favorite Things #6

2010-10-28T11:00:00.000-07:00

Sorry I’ve been a bit busy lately. Grad apps and such prevent relevant, thoughtful, lengthy posts, so I hope you don’t mind me helping you procrastinate.

I’ve been paying attention to this site for months now, but neglected to share it. Five second films are just what they sound like:

You can feel less guilty because they’re only 5 calories… I mean seconds….

Laugh of the Day #29

2010-10-23T21:00:00.000-07:00

30 Rock/Modern Family fan fic… (well, not really, it’s actually a set of important PSAs…):

Prop 8: The Next Chapter

2010-10-21T22:00:00.000-07:00

Apparently, the matter gets a step closer to the US Supreme Court just in time for Christmas.

Once Upon a Simpler Time

2010-10-19T11:00:00.000-07:00

Prologue to Book II

“There’s no denying what feels right. Knowing that I’m gay makes everything else make sense now. I know it’s hard to understand, but I can make it work. I know I can really have it all. I know I’ve got limits. I give a little and I take a little and it all works perfectly in its own way. I just can’t go anywhere beyond making out with another guy.”

“No, GMB, I don’t get it. You’ve never even kissed someone. How can you make a judgment like that? Even that seems kind of out of the question to me. No matter what you say, I don’t think I’ll ever find anything compatible with being gay and being Mormon. We all have to choose.”

With each iteration of my explanation, Cole responded with a congenial “Okay, but…” or an skeptical, drawn out “True….” I felt as if I was wasting my efforts—that my inklings of faith and my bulwark of reason making perfect sense to me in that moment were somehow lost on him. He was always the one I’d depended on, the one whose faith I had envied. And now I was the strong one? I was the one who could cite scripture and soothe a blighted spirit with a torch of hope?

It was later than I care to admit that I realized you find true friends in the irony of these reversals. I was never there to save him just as he was never there to save me; we were there for each other, standing like two sides of an arch.

A year of life tugged away the gossamer shreds of naiveté. Attempts to reconcile a life of dating and devotion proved more than difficult than I’d anticipated. As the reality set in, so did a subtle I-told-you-so brand of irony in my conversations with Cole.

“Do you remember when we had everything figured out?” I asked him one night as we drove home from a performance one night. “I remember when we would all pile onto Jacqueline’s couch and muse about the future.”

“I remember that,” he said nodding in acquiescence.

“After a party, the energy would ebb out until just a few of us were left and we’d talk about our future. We all saw ourselves married off and doing fantastic things with our lives by the time we were twenty-four. The one thing that seems to have worked out the way we’d expected is that Emily, Serenity, Jacqueline, you and me are still so close. It’s only partially the fact that we’re all still single.”

Drawing out the realization that needed to be aired in the starry spring night, he vivified the memories with the details of our communal fantasy: “…all of us in New York City pursuing the dreams we’d made for each other since our sophomore year of high school. You with some Angela Lansbury-type actress and me with my gorgeous, violinist wife. The girls off working in theatre and high-class confections.”

There was a pause. A reflection in the disparity of dreams and reality—not bitter, not sweet, just ironic.

“We thought we’d be married,” I reiterated. “It was almost like a promise we’d made to ourselves. We really were kids back then. Those were our fairytales. Mormon boys are Prince Charmings who grow up and get married. We have children sometimes when we are still children ourselves. And sometimes when we don’t even find ourselves attracted to girls—”

I stopped and glanced at Cole, worried I might have salted old wounds mentioning his broken engagement. He was calm and resolute. I realized the wounds were now scars, scars that had taken two years to heal. Now I was the one bleeding disillusion and mourning lost futures.

“Why can’t we have everything we were promised? A wife? Children? Infinite, eternal love? Even respect seems unattainable. Even feeling is wrong to everyone around us. We didn’t choose this. Nobody wants what we have.”

“Yes, but remember what feels right, what seemed to be the answer to a prayer way back when. You told me this is the bit of you that made everything else make sense. There’s no denying that bit of truth and there’s no denying what makes you happy. We’ve always been taught to choose truth and happiness and right.”

It was a matter of picking up the shattered pieces of my past and making them make sense. Cole didn’t say anything I hadn’t thought on my own. He was my best friend in that he simply offered the perspective I needed as I readjusted my grip on the steering wheel and our minds reminisced a simpler time when we had it all figured out.

Laugh of the Day #28

2010-10-18T22:00:00.000-07:00

In honor of the next step in the grad school application process:

Laugh of the Day #27

2010-10-17T22:00:00.000-07:00

Today in child cruelty and zombie videos:

Goodbye, GRE

2010-10-16T22:00:00.000-07:00

A selection of books that will find a new home or make it back to the library very soon. Any takers?

GRE Attempt #2

2010-10-15T14:00:00.000-07:00

So, I was a bit less vocal this time going into the test and its horrendous word processor. I’m still defining my list of schools to apply for, but I feel pretty satisfied with the new scores. I jumped 40 points on the Verbal (to 600) and 150 points on the Quantitative putting me at 730 (won’t you geeks out there be happy about that last part?).

It seems I’m at a place I can jump headlong into the application process and the fun parts: studying for the English Literature Subject test and writing the actual applications.

But first…I deserve a long nap and a good meal:

A Poem in Preview

2010-10-14T15:00:00.000-07:00

This poem stands as an epigraph to the upcoming series. It’s currently under construction, but full of potential. There are a few threads I’m preparing to tie together.

In the meantime, I leave you with a title standing as epigraph to the next series.

1555

The Life that tied too tight escapes
Will ever after run
With prudential look behind
And spectres of the Rein -
The Horse that scents the living Grass
And sees the Pastures smile
Will be retaken with a shot
If he is caught at all -

-- Emily Dickinson

(Thank you Horizon for your help finding this one).

A Proposed Solution to Bullying in Utah

2010-10-13T15:00:00.000-07:00

Last night, I attended a meeting on suicide prevention. The meeting started with an astonishing presentation. In memory of the LGBT teenagers who have committed suicide in a matter of weeks, nine short biographies were read and followed by a moment of silence. The rest of the night remained somewhat somber. We discussed symptoms of depression, signs of suicide risk, and the heightened danger for LGBT individuals. Stories were shared from both sides of tragedy: losing friends to suicide and facing suicide head on.

The conversation led to some serious thought about how one gets to that point. I’ve considered it a bit (especially here on the blog) and feel as though I’ve made some progress in that sense. It is very much tied to the current controversies surrounding Boyd K. Packer’s LDS General Conference talk, and now that I work with (and plan to continue to work with) emotionally vulnerable eighteen and nineteen year olds, I find myself closer and more devoted to understanding this pain.

Sharing her own suicidal experiences, the speaker said that one of her major emotional breakthroughs came when an educator pointed out: “You are not your emotions. You have emotions. You have thoughts. You have behaviors. Instead, you are you.” For the next three hours, this thought stuck in my head. This clearly probably isn’t something the bullied understand. What was I taught growing up LDS?

In my experience, I feel we’ve been taught that we are essentially conflicted masses of emotion—the good within us trying to overcome the “natural man” within all of us. A memory of seminary and Sunday school lessons immediately crept up. A video and a 1973 talk by Boyd K. Packer based on the premise “The mind is a stage,” a regular part of the curriculum often associated with wholesome, inspiring music came to mind. The apostle expands:

“Except when we are asleep the curtain is always up. There is always some act being performed on that stage. It may be a comedy, a tragedy, interesting or dull, good or bad; but always there is some act playing on the stage of the mind.

“Have you noticed that without any real intent on your part, in the middle of almost any performance, a shady little thought may creep in from the wings and attract your attention? These delinquent thoughts will try to upstage everybody.

“If you permit them to go on, all thoughts of any virtue will leave the stage. You will be left, because you consented to it, to the influence of unrighteous thoughts….

“If you can control your thoughts, you can overcome habits, even degrading personal habits. If you can learn to master them you will have a happy life.”

In principle, this idea is fairly sound. One can reign in negative behaviors before they’re entertained. Packer’s counsel, though treated as quaint even in some LDS circles is to recall the words of a favorite hymn so as to replace negative emotions with positive, spiritual ones.

The philosophical questions then arise: Which thoughts are good? Which are bad or even neutral? How does one control those thoughts? Etc.

Questions of morality and the roles on this stage are defined external sources. By God, according to the Church, and by society according to others. In the developmental process of a young adult, a sense of good and evil is established which is very fragile. It’s influenced not only by religion, but also family and perhaps most importantly one’s peers. Herein lays the problem we as a predominantly LDS culture face (as well as the entire nation).

Two things are necessary to solve this problem: a dialog and consequences.

In this nation, people have a right to believe. They are guaranteed the right to believe that God created man. They are guaranteed the right to believe that evolution is a reality or that one race is superior to another. No one is guaranteed the unrighteous dominion of forcing those beliefs upon another person.

Unfortunately, the nature of adolescence is more complex than all of that. What may be true in the (ideal) world of adults, does not for those coming to terms with growing pains. A few kids holding the understanding that being gay is evil can destroy his world by teasing him for feminine tendencies regardless of his sexuality. These same emotions are experienced by youth in the church who feel they are evil for homosexual desires. Those who inspire these feelings of self-hate—regardless of motive—face consequences.

Recently, the Church has emphasized the difference between feelings and actions, stating that the feelings are not sinful, but actual homosexual acts are. While I see this message being emphasized for adults, it is seen as too controversial or complex for the youth of the Church. For the youth, it has been simplified to a notion that all homosexuality—acts, as well as thoughts and even the very word—is inherently evil. Perhaps leaders feel that by talking about homosexuality to the youth in nuanced, adult terms as outlined in the recent statement they will be more inclined to experiment or accept their emotions.

If the LDS Church wants to heed its own calls for compassion in the current atmosphere, it is necessary to open this dialog with the youth. Go ahead and teach that homosexual acts are evil, but hear my plea: save from suicide that unfortunate young man who feels trapped by his feelings, though he might not share his feelings openly. Clearly state that those feelings do not make him evil. Let him know that he is not alone. And when that young man reaches adulthood, save him or her from the notion that you are not as righteous because he feels marriage is not an option for him.

LDS Response to HRC Petition: Reading Between the Lines

2010-10-12T18:00:00.000-07:00

Those of you following the news are quite aware of the controversy surrounding the comments of Boyd K. Packer in the latest LDS General Conference. Packer objected to gay marriage stating, “to legalize that which is basically wrong or evil will not prevent the pain and penalties that will follow as surely as night follows day.” He also characterized homosexuality as “impute and unnatural,” rhetorically asking, “Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone?”

The Human Rights Campaign (a group advocating LGBT equality) delivered a petition today with 150,000 signatures denouncing Packer’s message statements as “dangerous” as well as “factually and scientifically wrong.”

In response to this statement, a protest by thousands of LGBT Utahans last Thursday, and other online protests, the Church released a statement today outlining its stance regarding marriage, treatment of LGBT individuals, and sexual attraction vs. sexual behavior. The conference, petition, and response all come in the midst of a series of LGBT suicides.

I present the full statement to be followed by commentary:

My name is Michael Otterson. I am here representing the leadership of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to address the matter of the petition presented today by the Human Rights Campaign.

While we disagree with the Human Rights Campaign on many fundamentals, we also share some common ground. This past week we have all witnessed tragic deaths across the country as a result of bullying or intimidation of gay young men. We join our voice with others in unreserved condemnation of acts of cruelty or attempts to belittle or mock any group or individual that is different – whether those differences arise from race, religion, mental challenges, social status, sexual orientation or for any other reason. Such actions simply have no place in our society.

This Church has felt the bitter sting of persecution and marginalization early in our history, when we were too few in numbers to adequately protect ourselves and when society’s leaders often seemed disinclined to help. Our parents, young adults, teens and children should therefore, of all people, be especially sensitive to the vulnerable in society and be willing to speak out against bullying or intimidation whenever it occurs, including unkindness toward those who are attracted to others of the same sex. This is particularly so in our own Latter-day Saint congregations. Each Latter-day Saint family and individual should carefully consider whether their attitudes and actions toward others properly reflect Jesus Christ’s second great commandment - to love one another.

As a church, our doctrinal position is clear: any sexual activity outside of marriage is wrong, and we define marriage as between a man and a woman. However, that should never, ever be used as justification for unkindness. Jesus Christ, whom we follow, was clear in His condemnation of sexual immorality, but never cruel. His interest was always to lift the individual, never to tear down.

Further, while the Church is strongly on the record as opposing same-sex marriage, it has openly supported other rights for gays and lesbians such as protections in housing or employment.

The Church’s doctrine is based on love. We believe that our purpose in life is to learn, grow and develop, and that God’s unreserved love enables each of us to reach our potential. None of us is limited by our feelings or inclinations. Ultimately, we are free to act for ourselves.

The Church recognizes that those of its members who are attracted to others of the same sex experience deep emotional, social and physical feelings. The Church distinguishes between feelings or inclinations on the one hand and behavior on the other. It’s not a sin to have feelings, only in yielding to temptation.

There is no question that this is difficult, but Church leaders and members are available to help lift, support and encourage fellow members who wish to follow Church doctrine. Their struggle is our struggle. Those in the Church who are attracted to someone of the same sex but stay faithful to the Church’s teachings can be happy during this life and perform meaningful service in the Church. They can enjoy full fellowship with other Church members, including attending and serving in temples, and ultimately receive all the blessings afforded to those who live the commandments of God.

Obviously, some will disagree with us. We hope that any disagreement will be based on a full understanding of our position and not on distortion or selective interpretation. The Church will continue to speak out to ensure its position is accurately understood.

God’s universal fatherhood and love charges each of us with an innate and reverent acknowledgement of our shared human dignity. We are to love one another. We are to treat each other with respect as brothers and sisters and fellow children of God, no matter how much we may differ from one another.

We hope and firmly believe that within this community, and in others, kindness, persuasion and goodwill can prevail.

The good:

What was said about bullying needed to be said in the current atmosphere—at a divisive crossroad characterized by finger pointing in the wake of suicide after suicide attributed to homophobic bullying.
The emphasis on the second great commandment to love one another.
Clarification regarding behavior and acting upon it as well as the Church’s doctrinal/political stance in the marriage debate.

The bad:

With such an emphasis on compassion, something is also lacking in this sense. Compassion is more than simply understanding a state of suffering. It also encompasses treating one another as one would want to be treated. This was in part the inspiration of the 11th Article of Faith and remains my only point of contention:

We claim the ^aprivilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the ^bdictates of our own ^cconscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them ^dworship how, where, or what they may.

I have ancestors who died crossing the Great Plains fleeing persecution. I still don’t claim to understand completely the trials they faced. In a conversation with, say, Rosa Parks or Susan B. Anthony, I would never compare the experiences of my ancestors to their fights or frustrations. The comparison is simply lacking not because the suffering wasn’t comparable, but because it is removed. Today’s bullying and inequality are equally distinct.

Some gray areas still remain:

What actions define bullying? Where do the lines stand between defending the faith and respecting someone’s sexual orientation? Comments like “Just looking at the mechanics of men and women we know homosexuality was not what God intended. We can love those people that haven chosen this "lifestyle" but denounce the behavior. I wish people understand the difference. Homosexuality is a choice not the way God intended” could be construed as both.
However, to the eighteen-year old boy praying continuously to God to be healed and fixed to no avail, what conclusion is to he come to but that he’s evil?

Happy National Coming Out Day

2010-10-11T15:00:00.000-07:00

I’ve seen so many beautiful Facebook statuses today asserting who we are and who we support. It brings a smile to my face. I helped our campus group put on a Coming Out as Yourself Carnival and it was a success.

Everyone from the Utah State Sheep and Goat Club the the Pagan Alliance, the College Democrats, and SHAFT (Secular Humanists, Atheists, and Free Thinkers) organized their own booths, each concocting their own carnival games. The most popular booths won gift certificates. As this was a rather successful event, we’d encourage anybody planning a National Coming Out Day event to consider building on this idea.

Interestingly, I’ve done a lot of coming out in the past couple of weeks. I brought my guy to a wedding a lot of coworkers attended. It was satisfying to see so much acceptance and a level of awkwardness equal to me bringing a girl (were I to swing that way). There is def. something satisfying about complete openness. Here is a link to some of my stories/posts on the topic of Coming Out.

Laugh of the Day#26

2010-10-10T22:00:00.000-07:00

For Chedner who helps me enjoy the finer foods in life:

Conference Conspiracy?

2010-10-09T14:00:00.000-07:00

Did anybody else notice that not one, not two, but three major network television shows had storylines regarding religion this week?... Right after LDS General Conference?

Modern Family's Jay and Gloria fought about Jay not wanting to go to church and what that meant for their son.
On Community, Pierce's mom died and turned into a lava lamp (basically...). Jeff (and his mother speaking from the grave) tries to convince him otherwise.
And finally the Glee episode featuring an appearance of The Christ to Finn via cheese sandwich. My commentary on that one here.

300 (+2) Posts

2010-10-08T16:00:00.000-07:00

If you were wondering, now you know. I am one of those bloggers who uses inconsequential milestones such as one’s 300th post to take a day off or wax narcissistic. Since I forgot to do that a couple of days ago, this is actually #302.

I now present to you 30 random questions. 10 for each post.

1)What is your occupation?
Receptionist extraordinaire.

2)What is on the floor of your closet?
My army of shoes.

3)What are you listening to now?
I’ve been listening to The Bird and the Bee’s Hall and Oates album and Katy Perry this week.

4)What was the last thing you ate?
Cherry cobbler yogurt.

5)Can you drive a stick shift?
The short answer is no. I have a story about learning how to do so in Chile and almost dying, though.

6)Last person you spoke to on phone?
My dear dad.

7)What do you think of questionnaires like this?
I like an excuse to do them, but don’t give them much priority.

8)How old are you today?
I just turned 107 in Mercurian years. Check out this planetary birthday calculator.

9)What is your favourite sport to watch on TV?
I’d have to say soccer. I’d say hockey, but the guys don’t take their shirts off when a goal is scored….

10)What are your favourite drinks?
I love me some Diet Mountain Dew. Peach Fresca is slightly less amazing. I’m also a fan of chai and iced teas.

11)Have you ever dyed your hair?
Never. Somebody could probably convince me to someday. Part of me wants to go all secret agent, dying it black and trying to pass as Latino.

12)Favourite food?
I would have to say Brazilian Stroganoff. Recipe here.

13)Last movie watched?
Mansfield Park

14)Favourite day of the year?
Probably the first day of school.

15)How do you vent out your anger?
Bottle it up and then confess it all out every few months.

16)Favourite toy as a child?
My stuffed pound puppies cat, whiskers.

17)Favourite season?
Summer. Because it’s not winter.

18)Do you want your friends to email you?
I’d rather they call or text. Or post a brilliant 30 Rock quote on my Facebook wall.

19)When was the last time you cried?
Tuesday. After watching Glee.

20)What color are your socks now?
I’m wearing the union jack today because I’m awesome and they match today:

21)Who is the friend you have had the longest?
I’d say Cole, Jacqueline, and Emily have stuck with me longer than anyone. Our group expanded to Chenese, Nate, Serenity, and others shortly thereafter and with few exceptions we’re still fairly close.

22)What did you do last night?
Minimal studying, lots of sleeping to get over this cold, and a significant amount of chatting with boyfriend Chedner.

23)What are you most afraid of?
Losing control. I read once that all fears are tied to losing control, so since then I’ve always given that answer.

24)Plain,cheese or spicy hamburger?
Cheese sounds good.

25)Favourite dog breed?

Dogs aren’t really my thing, so something cuddly but not needy.

26)Favorite day of the week?
Fridays. Because of cuddling and TV watching after a day at work.

27)How many states have you lived in?
1 in the US. 1 in Chile. 1 in Brazil.

28)Diamond or pearl?
Diamonds are kind of off-putting because I associate them with rapper/gangsta wannabes and war in Africa.

29)What is your wish for the next year?
To be accepted to one of my top 3 grad schools.

30)What’s your next big project?
An annotated bibliography of gay Mormon blogs. (After that a play that will get some pretty significant attention given the current political discourse… again, that’s all I can say).

Glee and Spirituality

2010-10-07T11:00:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are diehard Gleeks and haven’t seen this week’s episode, I have two things to say. First, this post is filled with spoilers, so stop reading at the end of this paragraph. Second, if you haven’t seen it yet, I get to take away your Glee card and your gay card.

I spent a previous post examining the development of Kurt and would like to return to that for a moment. Arguably, he’s one of the most three-dimensional characters on the show. Despite accusations that he remains a gay teen caricature, Ryan Murphy’s genius lies in the fact that he’s managed to do the opposite, getting at some phenomenally ground-breaking observations on homosexual subjectivity.

For Gay Mormon Gleeks, this latest episode (titled “Grilled Cheesus”) chiseled a new and prominent dimension of Kurt’s character into understanding. In examining this aspect of spirituality, the episode takes an effective strategy of balancing Kurt’s serious assertion of non-believe with Finn’s silly grilled cheese-worshiping foray into belief. The result is equally balanced.

Early in the episode, Kurt explains his distaste for religion: “The reason I don't go to church is that most churches don't think very much of gay people. Or women. Or science.” In the wake of Boyd K. Packer’s General Conference talk, we can viscerally identify with Kurt’s statement; however, as we’ve been conditioned to walk the line and find a compromise between sexuality and religious authority’s hostility towards us (as well as principles such as polygamy and race), the connection with Kurt is not a complete one.

This is where the episode gets deeply philosophical. While some might see Kurt’s disbelief as an affront to his religious classmates, Murphy draws a very even-handed picture playing out in school politics, Kurt’s father’s mortality, and attempts at reconciliation of diversity among friends.

Kurt’s storyline has two foils: Sue’s mysterious childhood experiences and the aforementioned Finn plot. Frustrated with Sue’s ambiguous motives and successful ban on spiritual songs after Kurt’s father collapses and is taken to the hospital, Emma marches into Sue’s office demanding, “Please tell me Sue what horrible, horrible thing happened to you that made you such a miserable tyrant.”

Sue’s response as she closes the door for a moment of sincerity echoes Kurt’s sentiments of concern over spirituality being foisted upon him:

Since I was a little girl I've had exactly one hero. My big sister. You know how much I worshipped her? She was the sun and the moon to me.
And while I was still very young, I noticed that other people didn't feel the way I did. People were rude to her. They were cruel. They laughed at her.
And so I began to pray. I prayed every night for her to get better. And nothing changed. So I prayed harder. And after a while I realized that it wasn't that I wasn't praying hard enough.
It was that nobody was listening. Asking someone to believe in a fantasy however comforting isn't a moral thing to do. It's cruel.

Just as the show demonstrates range in emotion, tone, and musical genre, this scene establishes a range of motivations for disbelief which a lot of us struggle with. How many gay men and women have you known who have attempted to “pray away the gay” or faced ridicule in Sunday School for effeminate gestures? Sue’s revelation shines light on Sue’s even more complex character as well as her paradoxically sympathetic motives for her supposedly cruel actions:

Emma: (interjecting) Don't you think that's just a bit arrogant?
Sue: It's as arrogant as telling someone how to believe in God, and if they don't accept it, no matter how openhearted and honest their dissent they're going to hell. Well, that doesn't sound very Christian, does it?
Emma: Well, if that's what you believe, that's fine. But please keep it to yourself.
Sue (sternly): So long as you do the same.

Simultaneously, belief and non-belief are put in balance with each other as the show’s attempt to reflect true diversity comes to light. As these two ideas are placed in opposition with one another, they are also placed on equal footing. This is evident in the warm conversation between Sue and her sister later in the episode:

Sue: Do you believe in God, Jeannie?
Jeannie: Do you?
Sue: No, I don't.
Jeannie: Why not?
Sue: Because when we were little girls you were perfect in my eyes and and I watched the world be cruel to you.
Jeannie: God never makes mistakes. That's what I believe.Do you want me to pray for you, Sue?
Sue: Yeah. That would be nice.

While Sue might not agree with her sister, she loves, respects, and even values her beliefs. Interestingly, that’s the utopian vision of the show in a nutshell as presented via its primary villain: you might be a certain type of person, believe a certain way, or prefer a certain style of music, but despite any differences we might hold, you are loved, respected and valued because of who you are and who we are.

Kurt realizes this very lesson as he learns the value of his father’s love and his friends’ beliefs at his ailing father’s hospital bedside:

“I should have let those guys pray for you. It wasn't about me. It was about you and... it was nice.
“I don't believe in God, dad.
“But I believe in you.
“And I believe in us.
“You and me—that's what's sacred to me.
“And I am... I'm so sorry I never got to tell you that.”

In the wake of all of the pain and misery caused by differences in beliefs and understandings of homosexuality, I hope everyone might take to heart the message of valuing others for their differences not only in character but also in faith. The lives of many would be enriched and saved from the tragedies to which we’re slowly growing accustomed.

(NOTE: This is an timely message as today marks the 12th anniversary of the death of Matthew Shepard).

Laugh of the Day #25

2010-10-06T21:00:00.000-07:00

It's not often something from from my second homeland of Brazil pops up in my reader, but I found this pretty amusing. Remember when people joked about Jesse Ventura and Arnold Schwarzenegger's candidacies? (As well as Reagan a generation earlier...)

Amusingly, the newest Deputado in the Brazilian congress is an actual clown. Some campaign ads:

Some of the video's best lines:

"If you guys don't vote for me, I'm going to die."

"What does a Deputado do? In reality, I have no idea. Vote for me and I'll get back to you on that one."

"I will really be doing... um...the life of our Brazil... um...our lives...our moment... our thing..."

Plenty lost in translation, but still amusing.

Conference Controversy Follow-up

2010-10-05T10:00:00.000-07:00

A more thoughtful consideration of the matter at hand. Still a bit rough as I’m under the weather:

I've been considering for some time the best angle to examine the Boyd K. Packer talk. As I don't see much change around the corner, it's convenient to just play it off as same ol', same ol'. I only hope to offer some commentary and context that might otherwise go unnoticed.

First of all, the majority of us can agree that Elder Packer's comments were anything but unexpected. For years, his three main threats to faith have been presented as: the gay rights movement, feminism, and "so-called intellectuals." In each case, an aspect of individualism somehow threatens the doctrine. In the case of intellectualism, dependence on scientific evidence threatens the leaps of faith made by members. Feminism and homosexuality, however, threaten the patriarchal male-female role definitions fused into the Church’s doctrine. For instance, a man can be sealed (married for time and all eternity through LDS religious authority) to several women, whereas a woman can only be sealed to one man. Women who challenge these ideas such as Sonia Johnson find themselves excommunicated along with proponents of same-sex marriage.

An profile at The Mormon Curtain examines Packer's conservative record. Those of you outside of the LDS Church or relatively younger are likely less familiar with some of the history associated with all of this. In 1976, Packer oversaw the publication of the anti-masturbation pamphlet “To Young Men Only.” In 1977, he counseled members to only marry their own race, emphasizing that differences in race threaten success. Issues of race and sexuality aside, I take issue with the emphasis on “pure faith.”

In this, Packer's brand of Mormonism is Pharisaical. One of his more cited quotes, esp. in regard to 19 year-old missionaries, is that “a testimony is found in the bearing of it.” The implication here is subtle, though worrisome.

In my own journey, I’ve found that this philosophy (I hesitate terming it doctrine) has strengthened many people in following what they believe. Herein lays the hostility toward intellectualism. One is supposed to rely more upon what one is told than experienced via reason and in some cases one’s own five senses. As a missionary, I taught people to depend upon both and find a balance. “Read the Book of Mormon. See what it makes you feel. Don’t act upon convenience.”

I find myself in a similar position as those I taught. I look for the good in people and ideas. I have a testimony of equality, that the love of two people who can procreate is no greater than that of two people who cannot, and that the happiness and righteousness of one person should not be the destruction of another. My testimony of these things comes from probing these ideas and living them rather than having them fed to me.

At least within the Mormon tradition, Pharisees have been characterized as those following the Law of Moses to an excessive degree and emphasizing the outward aspects of worship such as being publicly perceived as obedient. They also attempted to legislate morality, bringing laws from the Torah (and in many cases from tradition associated with scripture) into everyday life. The most obvious and problematic correlation here is the Proposition 8/Gay Marriage debate.

As some of the more hopeful gay Mormon bloggers have brought up, the question of “Why would our Heavenly Father make someone gay?” is the antecedent to the entire gay marriage debate and a question which has not been addressed in the past. Regardless of the theological implications of the responses to that particular question, another supersedes it:

36 Master, which is the great commandment in the law?
37 Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt ^alove the Lord thy God with all thy ^bheart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy ^cmind.
38 This is the first and great ^acommandment.
39 And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt ^alove thy neighbour as thyself.
40 On these two commandments hang all the ^alaw and the prophets (Matthew 22).

Unfortunately, this passage exemplifies the doctrinal ambiguity LGBT Mormons face on a daily basis. On the one hand, our brothers and sisters are to devote their love to the Lord and on the other to their neighbors (A of F 1, 11).

So it seems that these two commandments stand in conflict with one another. If homosexuality is a trait acquired through a sinful life and that one is able to overcome such as Packer clearly states, then protecting gays and lesbians from themselves through legislation on the morality of consenting adults fits. This stance, however, hangs on these last strings of doctrine.

As science continues to prove homosexuality an innate trait in humans and as mothers and fathers raise their children under optimum spiritual conditions only to come to terms with their children’s homosexuality later in life, the intellectual, experiential evidence, again, stands to threaten Elder Packer’s worldview.

As his health declines and the old guard is replaced by the new, I tend to think that the rhetoric will be more measured and that the good done by so many different LGBT groups will even be recognized here in Utah—work to help the homeless, work to prevent discrimination, and work to treat all men and women as equals.

For now, though, Elder Packer’s rhetoric should be treated as what it is: a hostile remnant of a bygone era similar to calls for racial purity and superiority that slowed to a trickle a generation ago. These attitudes are a generational watershed of hate that trickle down to our youth. As we cling to the idea that homosexuality can be cured, we teach a new generation not to love one another, but rather to hate ourselves—hate ourselves for being weak, for letting ourselves be influenced by Satan, for not being good enough parents, for letting our children slip away, and for letting ourselves accept our feelings and what our experiences tell us. These attitudes result in the trauma that has fallen so many.

Should this continue, the leap of faith that so many youth will take will be nothing more than a fall into depression and suicide. Take a moment now to remember that everyone is valued and that happiness comes from valuing others regardless of their beliefs and allowing them to find peace with themselves.

Mashup #5

2010-10-04T21:00:00.000-07:00

Donald Duck a fan of Glenn Beck?

I'm afraid this is one of the sadder mashups I've seen.

Conference Controversy

2010-10-03T22:00:00.000-07:00

I've found the discussion of Elder Packer's comments very interesting (particularly on Facebook walls...).

Though there are a lot of ways to look at this, one reaction among all of the discussion stood out. In reaction to JonJon's post on the matter, MNJ shared the following video:

In regards to compassion, I agree that there is something to be desired here of generations past. Naturally, people don't attempt to understand struggles they don't directly face. I would say that I only began to understand compassion not when I came to terms with my homosexuality, but rather when I became friends with my transgender friend Ishmael. I'd challenge everyone to attempt the same and gain some perspective.

I think it's also noteworthy to share a flashback from when I was working in a lab on campus. I was running some density samples and listening to a radio interview on Elder Packer. I remember thinking, "I hope that man never becomes Prophet." I'd felt so guilty at feeling so offput by some of words regarding feminism and even evolution (even without realizing I was gay), but now I feel I can put aside that frustration and let others' rage and disgust pass me by.

Some other reactions to Packer:

From MoHos:

http://ldsbrother.blogspot.com/2010/10/seeing-good.html
http://listentowhoiam.blogspot.com/2010/10/are-you-there-boyd.html#comments
http://thegaydot.blogspot.com/2010/10/rhetoric-of-boyd-k.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:+TheGayDot+(The+Gay+Dot)
http://mohointx.blogspot.com/2010/10/ashers-rule.html
http://aloneandunobserved.com/2010/10/03/both-shall-fall-into-the-ditch/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:+AloneAndUnobserved+(Alone+and+Unobserved)
http://quietsongsblog.blogspot.com/2010/10/resignation-of-boyd-k-packer.html
http://mymormonheritage.blogspot.com/2010/10/personal-side-of-civility.html
http://darkdrearywilderness.blogspot.com/2010/08/why-i-stay.html

From ExMos:

http://liberalagnostic.blogspot.com/2010/10/lust-in-honor-of-boyd-k-packer.html

National Bloggers:

Gay or Nay #1

2010-10-02T11:00:00.000-07:00

For an event last night, I helped out with the tapas for an event. My contribution:

Munster, olives, and pepperonis.

Food for Thought #29

2010-10-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

My favorite and last of these:

“With the combined weight of stories, you can get at the truth.”

-- Sherman Alexie

From the (Literal) Closet of GMB #2

2010-09-30T18:00:00.000-07:00

I shared with you recently my love of thrift stores (particularly Deseret Industries), and mentioned that they are an excellent place to buy suits.

It is a real challenge for those of us 42" and smaller who enjoy the "slim" look. That said, the thrill of the hunt and the sweet taste of victory make it all worth it.

Some notes:

My favorite suit is, alas, no longer intact (charcoal with red and white pinstripes). Find out the embarrassing story of the pants' demise here. Cole nicknamed said pants my "ass pants." You can probably guess why.
For a graduation gift, my parents insisted on buying me a non-thrift store suit. We got a two-for-one deal and they are the only suits I did not buy used.
You'll notice that there are in total a dozen suits here. The black pinstriped one and the red-tinged brown are from Men's Warehouse. Other patterns include grey and blue checks and navy with blue and pink pinstripes.
All but three have a vest. Three-piece is a must.
As I always say-- the vest is the man's corset. Hides the fat, fixes the posture. There are another three vests when I have a particular tie in mind.
The newest addition to the set was a $10 green sherbet checked three-piece. Still need to hem the pants, but it has a lot of retro potential. I'd like something with a pronounced red-- maybe I'll play Mr. Applegate someday in Damn Yankees
This post reminds me of a song from one of my favorite off-Broadway shows. The song is: "The Man in the Starched White Shirt." Now name the show.

Food for Thought #28

2010-09-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

“Fences never kept the moon out of the rye.”

-- Ken Brewer

Man Harem Inductee #6; 9th Annual Equality Utah Allies Dinner

2010-09-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

Dustin Lance Black

This one has been on the docket for a while. Most of the crushes I’ve shared have been fairly superficial. This one—at the risk of sounding creepy—goes deeper.

Since I am a writer (or rather an aspiring one) it’s very easy to get emotionally involved with great writers from a distance—particularly the handsome, strong, activist-types. It’s also important to acknowledge the idea of hero worship here. His writing is as constructive and powerful as I hope mine will be someday.

Considering he’s nine years older, I think that' is a genuine possibility. His work on Big Love and Milk have pushed my writing in some directions I wasn’t really willing to consider years ago with regards to scale and subject matter, so I’ll give him some credit there. (These projects include some work on the lives of two of the greatest MoHos of all time).

It’s not all about the writing, though. I’ve overcome a lot in my life with regards to being shy and putting up barriers—barriers that have kept me from being as open (or “out”) as I’d genuinely like to be. Last night I found another piece of encouragement along those lines. It’s not often a man harem pick gives a call to action, and let me tell you something: a cute guy encouraging you to be a happier, healthier person making a difference in the life of others is hot.

I did get a chance to introduce myself—knees shaking—and say to him last night at the Equality Utah Allies Dinner, “I’m a real fan of your writing.” He joked that my hair made him feel short and we took a picture. (Expect to see that soon, FB friends).

***

To end, though, I’ll share some highlights from the meeting (some very inspirational topics which Dustin Lance Black and so many other great women stand for):

The night was a collision of sorts for me. So many worlds, groups, and experiences comingling to form a night of motivation. Everyone I spoke to left with the drive to make a difference and prove ourselves as the good and loving people we are. People will think what they will, but actions speak louder than any words including those of supposed biblical condemnation.

Not long ago, I had the pleasure of meeting and sitting down to dinner with Gary & Millie Watts, proponents of Family Fellowship. That experience was wonderful in its simplicity and the significance of breaking bread with one’s neighbors and family.

Last night they shared some kind words and family experiences that provide the hope so many of us need. Probably the most touching moment of the night was hearing the words of their son in a letter from 1997. Recently excommunicated, he said to his parents, “Thank you for not leaving me out” as he reflected on the tears of his mother—not tears of disappointment over some construct of worthiness but tears of frustration for her son being turned away.

They have come a long way from thinking their son was the only homosexual to making their son’s life and the lives of thousands of other LGBT individuals “a path of love, honesty, and friends—a family path.”

The theme of family permeated the night as the next pair of award recipients, Jane & Tami Marquardt, pointed out a very interesting and incredibly loving aspect of their lives (one I think should be shared by all). “We have two families: our family of origin and our family of choice.”

I left very thankful for those words in particular. So much is given to us at our birth, but regardless of our circumstances, we bring the best people close to us to preserve each other and to commune with them.

This is what so many organizations concerned with protecting families have wrong. While we many times accuse them of espousing hate, their real and true crime is destroying love—destroying love that inspires us to leave messages daily for our same-sex partner like “Hey gorgeous. How’s your day going?”, love that inspires us to serve our communities, and love that transcends labels like “sinner,” love inspiring us to do more than tolerate or accept difference.

Dustin Lance Black’s keynote speech was particularly inspiring. So often, activism comes off as in-your-face or counter-revolutionary. In many ways it’s made several people I know cautious of being visible—the ones who’d rather not be associated with shouting matches and shutting down traffic. Activism has also taken on forms of violence and passive resistance, but none of these images have really fit my vision of who I am.

After sharing his story (realizing his homosexuality early on in a conservative religion and state later saving himself from self-hate and powerlessness through the redemptive words of Harvey Milk), Black presented a different vision of activism placing emphasis on visibility.

“It is time for every single on e of you to come out,” he declared. “Think outreach. Go out there and do good. Put on your rainbow flags and buttons and make sure people know who you are,” he said. That, more than anything else, will change the hearts and minds of the people.

“Visibility is the challenge of this movement. People fear what is unknown and different,” he said, offering his solution. “This is why it is imperative we pass all-inclusive anti-discrimination protections in housing and employment. There are more progressive places that don’t have these protections, but things are happening here in Utah.

“Some people say ‘As California goes, so goes the nation,’ but if we in Utah can show our country where Utah is going (citing the non-discrimination legislation now protecting 650,000 individuals in Utah) we will show them all,especially those who have dismissed us, and as Utah goes, so will this nation.”

I left proud to be a part of the fight in Utah and ready to commit more to the causes of love, equality, and family. May we all share such a vision of our present and our future and do the good this world needs to truly embody these principles.

Other highlights that didn’t quite make it into this summary:

Jane & Tami Marquardt:
“Love deserves respect”
“Behind every great powerdyke there is often a loving and supportive Barbiedyke.”

Dustin Lance Black:
“It’s interesting coming to Utah sometimes. Look at all of these clean cut young men growing up with appreciation for musicals and ballroom dancing. How do you know anybody’s gay?!”
Bouncing off of a narrative line about not having the courage to bear testimony as a kid he bore testimony last night:
“I love who I am, cannot change and wouldn’t change.”
”We are blessed with an outsider’s perspective.”
“We are an important people.”

Food for Thought #27

2010-09-29T06:00:00.000-07:00

“Without imagination we can go nowhere.”

-- Rita Dove

From the (Literal) Closet of GMB #1

2010-09-28T11:00:00.000-07:00

This series documents a bit of my style and accompanies “MoHos and Their Clothes.” I’ll share some actual pieces of my wardrobe bit by bit, working up to full ensembles.

The first selection reflects my appreciation for Express and their great dress shirts, though admittedly only a couple are actually from there. The rest are Kohl’s and JC Penney’s clearance finds:

Some observations:

Yes, there are four blue shirts.
Only two have French cuffs. (They are lonely and characteristically snooty—rightfully so).
Each one has a matching pair of socks…and a tie… but the socks are what really matter.
Although I like to flatter myself in the 14-14 1/2 range, my real size is 15-15 1/2.
Yellow sort of makes me look sallow, so my closet bouncer keeps it out.
My newest purchase—Mr. Gray from the DI ($4)
I’m wearing the lavender one in the back tonight on my date with Dustin Lance Black tonight… explanation tomorrow….

Food for Thought #26

2010-09-28T06:00:00.001-07:00

In honor of completing the first draft of Book I:

“A book is made with one’s own flesh and blood of years.”

-- Willa Cather

Man Harem Inductee #5; Man Harem Must See #2

2010-09-27T14:00:00.000-07:00

This week, I just needed out of my house. I’ve been gym-faithful and good about studying for the GRE, but I really needed some me time. When a friend texted me asking if I wanted to go see a movie, I couldn’t say no.

I’d been dying to see a certain movie since I heard Bob Mondello’s NPR review of the movie the other day on the freeway. A very loose adaptation of Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, I perked my ears at a brief explanation of “Easy A.”

As Mondello puts it, “in most high-school comedies, the high jinks tend to be so lowbrow that even a nod in a literary direction deserves extra credit,” but this smart take on a classic has some serious merit. Teen movies tend to either be preachy or cater to a low brow audience, but this one strikes the perfect balance (like Mean Girls but less humor-based).

This movie gets at the issue of sex roles. While main character Olive is seen as a slut for sleeping a guy (or rather saying she did), the guy is treated as a hero for doing such. This is a brilliant internal and personal take on our cultural assignments.

Of course, Olive has a love interest, Penn Badgley who makes the movie doubly-worth the price of admission:

His eyes have this steely appeal I couldn’t help but notice (and since Chedner wasn’t there, I couldn’t feel too guilty about…). He’s also been in Gossip Girl and John Tucker Must Die (which I apparently need to see now).

While I could go on about the hair, the biceps, the understatement in the smile, etc., I will just say he comes off as the prince charming that every boy needs—not worrying about what others say, letting you be your own person, being thoughtful and sincere at every turn. I guess he made me appreciate what I have.

Enjoy this adventure of a movie which is pleasingly full of allusions not only to literature but also romantic tropes and teen movies that you’ll come out with a thoughtful smile on your face.

Notes on "A Series of Sundays"

2010-09-27T06:00:00.000-07:00

A few notes on the latest series:

The title is derived from the musical Sunday in the Park with George. From the plays setting description page: "Act I takes place on a series of Sunday from 1884-1886 and alternates between a park and an island in the Seine just outside of Paris and George [Seurat]'s studio."
The epigraphs are derived from the same musical. The choice seemed fitting as much of the show focuses on the concept of vision. Although that theme is somewhat undeveloped and non-cohesive in the series, it plays an important role.
A significant aspect of this series is admittedly controversial in Mormon circles. My main goal was to find a balance for readers familiar with the significance of garments as well as those completely unfamiliar. I hope I remained respectful and provided enough context to understand the significance in the story.

A Series of Sundays, Part 5

2010-09-26T06:00:00.000-07:00

May 10, 2009

I Chose and my world was shaken,
So what?
The choice may have been mistaken...
The Choosing was not...

As I closed the bathroom door behind me, I realized I was in the midst of a time of endings and beginnings. Some I was prepared for and others I had not. Graduation and the end of my job on campus had been in sight for months, as was my impending departure for South America. My brother Darin was in a similar point in his life.

Just an hour ago, he'd made a decision that would affect the rest of his life. I sat outside the Stake President's office with my father and mother as well as my older brother's family. After several persistent months of doctor's visits, interviews, and paperwork, Darin was now prepared to submit his application to serve as an LDS missionary.

He would be the third of three boys and the third generation to go out clad in black nametag, shirt, and tie. It was a fate ascribed to us from the moment we were born. Five years ago, I'd been in his place as my brother had fifteen years ago and my father nearly forty years.

My mind turned to that moment-- to the utter unpreparedness of my nineteen year-old self preparing to commit two years of my life to a cause which I had my doubts, though it was still something in which I held faith, albeit incomplete.

"Do you feel prepared, GMB, to serve the Lord with all your heart, might, mind, and strength?" President Matheson asked me earnestly.

"I don't know how I could be feel more prepared," I answered. His smile consoled my doubt as much as it could. "Everything's been ideal for me. My parents are great. I've had great leaders and teachers. I'm not without doubt, though. I've fought with that for a long time."

"GMB, no one's faith is perfect. And sometimes that's all we have to act on, but know that you will be prepared. By committing yourself to the covenants you've made, you'll find all of the answers you need. They come in time, and I'll still admit I'm finding them all the time."

"That's something I really needed to hear," I blurted out from across the mahogany desk, my every gesture communicating the relief I felt.

"I know you're under a lot of pressure, but everything that makes me the man I am today stemmed from that decision to serve a mission and commit myself to the covenants we make in the temple."

My arms folded across my chest, I nodded-- confident in the decision I was making. Four years later, I sat with the same expression and the same confidence rushing through me.

The door opened and Darin emerged letting out a sigh as he stepped across the threshold into a new segment of his life. Soon he would be our missionary, the topic of conversation at every family gathering for two years in his absence, but in that moment we hugged, realizing that this was one of our final moments together for a long time.

Of course, I would be leaving for Chile and Darin soon thereafter to some unknown corner of the globe. However, what was less apparent in that moment was the other change on the horizon.

We drove home a happy family: my mother changing the Sunday station back to her weekday oldies, my father making a pun, Darin and I shaking our heads but still laughing in our "intellectual disgust." We then said our goodnights and went our separate ways.

Looking in the mirror as I contemplated the day and prepared for my shower, my future and my past collided. I looked at myself, at the person I'd become and I was satisfied. I had accomplished more than I would have ever anticipated: success in school and work as well as the most complete understanding of myself I'd ever achieved.

I'd gone as far as I could on that path, however. Despite all of the growth I owed to the teachings of the church, and the success I'd garnered as a result of serving a mission, I felt limited by the options I had. I'd lived the celibate life I'd been prescribed for a year and come to the conclusion (after deciding not to decide for so long) that it was not what was meant for me for an entire lifetime.

I stared at myself from across the counter loosening my tie, unbuttoning my shirt, and pulling away the layers one by one until I stood in my white undergarments. Five years ago, I put them on in an act of faith and obedience. Standing as a constant reminder of the standards I was to hold and the godly power supporting me in this journey, I stood in awe of the holy garments for a moment.

Then, I removed them for the last time and stood before myself completely vulnerable: a small gut veiled by chest hair, breasts slightly plump for a man, tiger-stripe stretch marks lining the sides of my body. My strengths became just as apparent as I scrutinized my frame: muscular legs shaped by years climbing up hills, arms colored olive by the rays of the sun, angular face framed by scruff.

For years, I'd been taught that this was God's greatest gift, that the human body stands as a vessel of godliness containing the power of creation. Somehow, the elevation of the body as a glorious construction of a godless universe also seemed compatible in that moment. So, I realized as I hunched over and stared into my own brilliantly hazel eyes a simple truth-- whether God existed or not, whether He created me or not, I had the potential within me to make a life of which I could be proud-- a life with which I could be satisfied and happy.

End of Series.

End, Book I.

A Series of Sundays, Part 4

2010-09-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

April 5, 2009

Bit by bit, Putting it together
Piece by piece, working on the vision night and day
All it takes is time and perseverance
With a little luck along the way

“Stu’s twenty-seven, totally loveable, and not married? What’s wrong with this guy?” jibed one of his counselors.

“He must be gay,” called a young twenty-something from the back of the classroom.

Another teased in melodic tone, “Better go see the Bishop!”

I let out a frustrated sigh drown out only by the Elders’ Quorum’s laughter around me. Do they realize how alienating that is? I looked around curious at who was laughing at me and many of my friends simply for being different. While it was entirely alienating to face the “them” and “us,” “good” vs. “evil” implications staring me in the face, I found some consolation in the fact that not everyone was amused in homophobia.

No one displayed the outrage I felt inside (including myself), though there were pockets of sensitivity and liberal thought. A headshake here, a hand over ones eyes there, and a couple of other men gauging reactions in their vicinities. Was the alternative better?

After a year of knowing and accepting my homosexuality, I was forced to come to terms with the complexity of the matter, and while I’d nearly finished a degree in dissecting complex systems of thought and language, I felt unprepared to do so in a real-life situation. That said, I felt more and more that those around me didn’t have the answers I sought either.

That night, I sat at my desk multi-tasking. I’d escaped my Usual Sunday funk. I was smiling and as energized as I’d felt in months. Between the class readings, general writing, and comic strip doodling on some graph paper, I noted a chime from across the room. I walked across the room and stooped over my laptop in the windowsill—the one place in the house I could log into an anonymous unsecured network in the neighborhood.

“You have a new message from Cliff:

“Hey GMB,

“So, I don't really know how to go about this without possibly being awkward, so let me just get straight to the point.

“I'm gay, and I know that you are too. You may have already figured that out about me, but if not....there you go! Ha ha!I knew that we had a few friends in common that are gay, and so I wondered. Then i saw your profile on connexion and obviously I knew for sure. Anyway, I don't know how you are feeling about things and dealing with it all, but I have a really great group of friends up here and around Utah that have been great for me in helping me come to terms with this and live as much of a normal life as I can. I just want to let you know that I'm here if you ever need me for anything. Call or text whenever!…”

Cliff was one of the guys I noted took exception with the joke this morning. He sat with Abel and Marty, two guys I’d suspected were gay. All four of us had grown up together, and now I knew I wasn’t alone in the ward. Certainly, there was a great deal of consolation in Cliff’s outreach.

However, something felt off.

I thanked him sincerely for the offer and had no doubt that his offer was one filled with love and concern for a fellow gay Mormon boy. The support he offered was definitely what many people needed. A tightknit group like Cliff, Abel, and Marty needed each other to work through the complicated situation we all faced at that time.

That was not what I needed in that moment, however. I was starting to make sense of the spiritual side of my life, and the answers I sought would only come from within.

A Series of Sundays, Part 3

2010-09-24T06:00:00.000-07:00

February 8, 2009

We lose things and then we choose things.

Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest, though somehow that day of relaxation and rejuvenation did little to prepare me for the rest of the week. My life now stood inverted. My weekdays were spent resting up and preparing for the draining effects of Sunday. The worst weeks were spent sleeping through meetings so as to avoid the negative feelings that would come were I to think critically or feel openly and honestly. I couldn’t be thoughtful. I couldn’t be emotional. Essentially, I couldn’t be me.

For me, it only seemed right to stick it out. It was what my brother Darin and my family needed. Even though we both lived at home that last year of my college experience and his first, we didn’t spend much time together. It was the one thing we could do together some weeks due to our busy schedules (in addition to a billiards class we both signed up for), and I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

On the way to and from church, we’d often catch up on what each other’s friends were up to, the movies we’d seen, the new CDs we were listening to, and how classes were going. I was really happy to see him in a good place. He was preparing to serve a mission. He and his girlfriend were about to celebrate a year of being together. He was finding satisfaction and success in school with all of his projects.

“Two weeks ago, the Constitutional Court of Colombia ruled that same-sex couples should have equal rights and benefits under the law. Christina Navarro has our report on the reaction to this controversial—”

“Let’s listen to something else,” Darin said, putting in a Jack Johnson CD. I wasn’t surprised by his reaction, though I’d hoped for something different. It was an opportunity to bring up some things I’d worried about without being so obvious.

“How’s your friend Kellen? I haven’t seen him since you guys were in that show together?” I asked well aware that Kellen was the closest thing he’d had to a gay friend in high school.

“We don’t really talk much anymore. We went different directions and he chose a life different from the one I did.” He said it all so straight-faced and self-assured, I wasn’t sure how to react or proceed.

"Well, I doubt he's changed that much," I concluded. It made sense and concerned me that the source of their falling out was precisely what might day be our falling out and I ruled out the possibility of sharing with him the one part of my life I kept tucked away-- behind my vest, underneath my dress shirt pocket in a locked chamber of my heart.

The rest of the day was somewhat muddled. Following my usual Sunday regiment of reading the paper, family dinner, and homework, I slept.

I awoke to the sound of a buzzing phone hours later. “Hey, GMB. What are you up to?”

It was Ezra. Following a week-long romance, we’d remained friends and hung out regularly as I got more comfortable in the community, and felt free to be more “out” away from my closest friends and those living in The Wood House.

With his encouragement, I found myself among a new group of people. I picked him up and he showed me where to go. I wasn’t tired enough to go back to bed and I needed to connect that night.

“Ishamael’s house is pretty chill. It’s not huge, so there are a lot of small groups,” he explained as we approached the porch of the brick house lit by what seemed to be a red Christmas light.

Following a long round of introductions, I found myself in the kitchen politely declining drink after drink. A moment later, a guy with piercing white teeth and blue eyes, mouthed the word “garments” from across the room, pointing to the sleeve of his shirt. I tucked the holy fabric back under my sleeve as he turned back to his conversation and his drink. My initial thoughts of desecration of the undershirt's sanctity turned to comfort and respect.

Though we’d only seen each other in passing and we’ve never sat down and had a conversation afterward, it was the type of connection I needed in that moment. To know that another gay Mormon boy would watch out for me, or rather the beliefs I struggled with, provided me with the consolation I needed that Sunday as I reconsidered the religion I’d shared and lived and wore.

End, Part 3.

A Series of Sundays, Part 2

2010-09-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

December 21, 2008

Look at what you've done,
Then at what you want,
Not at where you are,
What you'll be

There is a distinct posture in church one will notice upon close observation. Most common among teenage boys and the more tiring of meetings, it tends to accompany a sentiment of boredom or frustration. Sitting in a pew, the subject enters the position first by slouching forward then placing the elbows upon the knees. The forward-facing head is then perched upon the hands as the subject's center of gravity moves forward. Slowly the face drifts into disconnection, facing the feet.

I looked up for a moment from this very posture, opening my eyes and looking around at those around me attentively listening to the young man giving the day's Sunday School lesson.

"Could someone please read the paragraph beginning 'After'?"

"I will," a young woman recently returned from a mission in the Baltic states announced.

"Thanks," she said nodding as she looked up from her manual.

"After Heavenly Father gave Eve to Adam, he commanded them to have children. He revealed that one of the purposes of marriage is to provide mortal bodies for his spirit children. Parents are partners with our Heavenly Father. He wants each of his spirit children to receive a physical body and to experience earth life." She read the final line with emphasis, "When a man and a woman bring children into this world, they help our Heavenly Father carry out his plan." [Chapter 36, Gospel Principles]

Triggered by the topic of marriage, I retreated to my meditative state. Lately, a lot of my most productive thought had been done while staring at my feet. Practically all of my final papers had been outlined or to some extent composed in church as I tried to avert my mind from the dilemma at hand.

Distractions tugged away by the holiday break, I was forced to confront the emotions simmering over the past months. My rational mind had worked through the numbness to arrive at an understanding of what I truly felt.

It was indignation-- anger in righteousness.

Simultaneously, I conceived myself as a good person and an evil person. I hadn't done anything wrong, but felt as if I'd be denied a life I'd been promised my entire religious existence (one of family and companionship) for living a life of integrity.

A friction between the segments of my identity frustrated the sense of balance I'd managed to maintain for so long. However, like two tectonic plates thrusting toward one another, it seemed as if a disaster lay beyond the horizon-- as if the earth under my feet were about to reform as one continent of my consciousness prepared to subduct under another.

End, Part 2.

A Series of Sundays

2010-09-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

November 9, 2008

Mapping out a sky.
What you feel like, planning a sky.
What you feel when voices that come
Through the window
Go
Until they distance and die,
Until there's nothing but sky
And how you're always turning back too late

“….This week, we saw the majesty of the democratic system in action…”

I perked up for a moment, setting aside my scrawled lines of prose on the back of the program. Did he believe what he was saying.

“….The scriptures teach us:

“Therefore, choose you by the voice of this people, judges, that ye may be judged according to the laws which have been given you by our fathers, which are correct, and which were given them by the hand of the Lord. [Mosiah 29:25]

“It is our role as God’s chosen people to take be actively engaged in the election process. We do not take sides in the red and blue, Democrat and Republican debate, but we do stand for what is good and right in this world,” the speaker declared from the pulpit.

My mind returned to the events of the preceding Tuesday. Following a year of debate and drama, the country's political endgame was finally coming to pass. The campus election party—a night of fun, games, and food muting the hostile overtones of the parties attending—was a mixed night for all.

The liberals (gathered in their corner and outnumbered ten to one) celebrated the statements from McCain and Obama over the election outcome as the conservatives trickled out (with the exception of a self-proclaimed white supremecist who made it his mission to snuff out a smile left on anyone’s face that night). A small group remained, aware and preoccupied with the state of California. The passage of Proposition 8 shocked some and angered others.

For me, the announcement was like anodyne. It left me numb all over. I didn’t know how to feel, but felt prepared to endure great pain. The idea of equality made sense but so did the Church in most ways.

Absorbing the rest of the talk—calls for righteous living in difficult times, warnings against democracy making the wrong decision and the Lord smiting them down for their pride, cautions of hero worship pointed at the new President elect—I puzzled over the clear reservations held over the democratic process. The speaker believed in a good form of democracy and a bad form of democracy. Was I to feel inferior (despite having devoted a year of my life to studying the constitution)? Angry that he was twisting around beliefs I held close to my heart?

I didn’t know.

So much beauty lay in the doctrines of salvation that I’d grown up with and that I’d taught and of which I’d testified. The God of my religion seemed superior. He was truly omnipotent because he could create other Gods. He was truly all-knowing because he used the laws of science from physics to evolution to bend all of creation to his will. He was truly loving because he knew me among billions of other souls and cared about my happiness.

I wasn’t all that certain about that anymore. As I attempted to return to the moment and listen to the speaker’s conclusion, my body was a sheet of static—numb and uncharged.

The Return, Collision of Proposition 8 and Mormon Faith

2010-09-21T18:00:00.000-07:00

I’ve been putting off discussing the Prop. 8 leg of my story for a while. I feel I can finally (almost) do it justice and talk about some very difficult issues for me.

The next series, “A Series of Sundays,” will get at some of the issues of belief I’ve been a bit more guarded about over the past year and take the blog in a different direction if only temporarily.

…How fitting the timing as we gear up for season premiers this week….