I used to be surrounded by the arts and now it seems like I'm so far removed from it I can barely remember how it feels to sweat under the hot lights in a three sided room that I helped build. As I lay awake last night, unable to sleep for whatever reason I started thinking about my job and how sometimes it feels like a never ending circle with no conclusion. It's almost like I start over each month with the same set of tasks and demands. I enjoy my job and the people there are like my family. I also enjoy all the things I am able to do because of my job but there's no art in it. Maybe it's up to me to find the art in it. I don't know. With theatre you have a beginning and an eventual end even if it's sometimes bittersweet. I miss it...
I think I'm getting a little bit of cabin fever with my life...
Monday, January 24, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Don't You Remember?
When will I see you again?
You left with no goodbye, not a single word was said
No final kiss to seal anything
I had no idea of the state we were in.
I know I have a fickle heart and bitterness
And a wandering eye, and a heaviness in my head
But don't you remember, don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby please remember me once more.
When was the last time you thought of me?
Or have you completely erased me from your memories?
Cause I often think about where I happen to roam.
You more I do, the less I know.
But I know I have a fickle heart and bitterness
And a wandering eye, and a heaviness in my head.
But don't you remember, don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby please remember me once more.
Ohhhh
I gave you the space so you could breathe,
I kept my distance so you would be free,
I hope that you find the missing piece
To bring you back to me.
Why don't you remember, don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby please remember you used to love me.
When will I see you again?
You left with no goodbye, not a single word was said
No final kiss to seal anything
I had no idea of the state we were in.
I know I have a fickle heart and bitterness
And a wandering eye, and a heaviness in my head
But don't you remember, don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby please remember me once more.
When was the last time you thought of me?
Or have you completely erased me from your memories?
Cause I often think about where I happen to roam.
You more I do, the less I know.
But I know I have a fickle heart and bitterness
And a wandering eye, and a heaviness in my head.
But don't you remember, don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby please remember me once more.
Ohhhh
I gave you the space so you could breathe,
I kept my distance so you would be free,
I hope that you find the missing piece
To bring you back to me.
Why don't you remember, don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby please remember you used to love me.
When will I see you again?
Thursday, October 14, 2010
It Gets Better
It seems like with the recent rash of teenage gay teen suicides that everyone is taking to their blogs whether it be video or written. I was watching some of the videos for the "It Gets Better" campaign today and I felt compelled to at least, in whatever small way, share my story. I'm sure a lot of people won't see this but I hope the ones who do will understand. Here goes...
Growing up in a small town is hard enough but growing up different seems almost impossible. What we don't realize at the time is that everyone is different. No one is 'normal' in Jr. High or High School. At Lenore Jr. High I was relentlessly teased about my sexuality, to the point I wasn't sure how much I could take. I hated gym class and was terrified of going into the locker rooms. None of these fears stopped when I made it to Tug Valley High School. I constantly tried to just blend in. The only places I felt comfortable were in my AP classes and my Theatre class. The kids I shared those classes with quickly became my best friends and the reason that I loved high school. We were all from different cliques and backgrounds and that seemed to work for us. I remember not having male friends until this time. I kept my head down in the halls and tried to stay as invisible as possible unless I was in a 'comfort zone'. I was still called names, which people may not know because I was perceived as being popular. I was still terrified of gym class and recall being glad there was another boy in my class who the bullies liked picking on more than me. I felt terrible for being so thankful he was there. I remember after many of our gym classes, the most relentless of the bullies would come out the showers completely naked and smack his 'member' on this poor kids head. The boys face has never left me, he was terrorized and eventually left the school. Another guy was basically forced out by bullying just because he wanted to be a cheerleader so High School was never a place where I cold be me and not worry about the back lash. I joke about it now because that's my coping mechanism. People often ask me if the people in High School knew I was gay and I tell them that I figure the boys who called me fagot on a daily basis seemed to know.
I was a depressed kid and stayed in my room a lot. I was in my room so much that my parents actually asked my brother if I was on drugs. I just found it easier to be alone but being alone threw me into a deep depression that I got very good at hiding. I was, and still am in many cases, 'the funny guy'. No one wants the funny guy to be sad, so I smiled through it and put on the happy face. But, as some of you may know, avoiding problems has it's downfalls. I was so depressed that I contemplated suicide on many occasions. I thought extensively about the different ways I could do it but something always happened to keep me away from it. The time I came the closest, with razor blade in hand, the phone rang...the voice on the other end was Steve May. Some people didn't and maybe still don't understand my relationship with Steve, but his voice saved my life that night. I was drowning and he was like me. I like to think we saved each other many times after that.
When I finally made it college, the depression followed and I realized after my freshman year that i couldn't be me if no one knew who I really was. So, on a rainy night in the Fairmont State parking lot I said it out loud for the first time. I told Sarah Hoffmaster, then Petree, that I was gay. She cried with me as I told her how I was struggling to understand why God, in his infinite wisdom, would have given me this burden. Why if He thought it was so wrong would I feel like I didn't have a choice in the matter. I had been struggling with my religion my whole life, praying to be something different and then, in that moment, I realized I was who I was meant to be. God doesn't make mistakes. It became easier for me to just be me. I remember when a new school year started and I didn't feel like I needed to tell people I was gay because it didn't seem as important. It didn't feel like the thing that defined me anymore. I felt like more than just that label.
I still struggle with depression because of where I'm from and what I accepted as my reality back then but everything seems bearable now. I have friends who love and family who love me and accept me for who I am and know that being gay is only a minor part of that. I now know the struggle has made me who I am, as messed up as that can be sometimes. I realize that at some point, it just got better.
There are so many terrible experiences i could share but there are much more wonderful memories that seem to eclipse those now. I wish I could share them all, leaving no one who has helped me along the way out but I would inevitably forget something important.
So what I would say to anyone who might be reading this is that yes It Does Get Better. It seems easy to say and harder to believe when you're in the middle of it but it's true. Though there may be no one like you, there are a lot of people in a similar situation. Choose to live, choose to seek out the people who will love you, choose to help other people and to set an example and if you can't choose those things, choose to keep your head down until you can. But don't choose death, as hard as it is to imagine sometimes that it's not the only choice. Live your life because with each passing day...
It Gets Better.
Growing up in a small town is hard enough but growing up different seems almost impossible. What we don't realize at the time is that everyone is different. No one is 'normal' in Jr. High or High School. At Lenore Jr. High I was relentlessly teased about my sexuality, to the point I wasn't sure how much I could take. I hated gym class and was terrified of going into the locker rooms. None of these fears stopped when I made it to Tug Valley High School. I constantly tried to just blend in. The only places I felt comfortable were in my AP classes and my Theatre class. The kids I shared those classes with quickly became my best friends and the reason that I loved high school. We were all from different cliques and backgrounds and that seemed to work for us. I remember not having male friends until this time. I kept my head down in the halls and tried to stay as invisible as possible unless I was in a 'comfort zone'. I was still called names, which people may not know because I was perceived as being popular. I was still terrified of gym class and recall being glad there was another boy in my class who the bullies liked picking on more than me. I felt terrible for being so thankful he was there. I remember after many of our gym classes, the most relentless of the bullies would come out the showers completely naked and smack his 'member' on this poor kids head. The boys face has never left me, he was terrorized and eventually left the school. Another guy was basically forced out by bullying just because he wanted to be a cheerleader so High School was never a place where I cold be me and not worry about the back lash. I joke about it now because that's my coping mechanism. People often ask me if the people in High School knew I was gay and I tell them that I figure the boys who called me fagot on a daily basis seemed to know.
I was a depressed kid and stayed in my room a lot. I was in my room so much that my parents actually asked my brother if I was on drugs. I just found it easier to be alone but being alone threw me into a deep depression that I got very good at hiding. I was, and still am in many cases, 'the funny guy'. No one wants the funny guy to be sad, so I smiled through it and put on the happy face. But, as some of you may know, avoiding problems has it's downfalls. I was so depressed that I contemplated suicide on many occasions. I thought extensively about the different ways I could do it but something always happened to keep me away from it. The time I came the closest, with razor blade in hand, the phone rang...the voice on the other end was Steve May. Some people didn't and maybe still don't understand my relationship with Steve, but his voice saved my life that night. I was drowning and he was like me. I like to think we saved each other many times after that.
When I finally made it college, the depression followed and I realized after my freshman year that i couldn't be me if no one knew who I really was. So, on a rainy night in the Fairmont State parking lot I said it out loud for the first time. I told Sarah Hoffmaster, then Petree, that I was gay. She cried with me as I told her how I was struggling to understand why God, in his infinite wisdom, would have given me this burden. Why if He thought it was so wrong would I feel like I didn't have a choice in the matter. I had been struggling with my religion my whole life, praying to be something different and then, in that moment, I realized I was who I was meant to be. God doesn't make mistakes. It became easier for me to just be me. I remember when a new school year started and I didn't feel like I needed to tell people I was gay because it didn't seem as important. It didn't feel like the thing that defined me anymore. I felt like more than just that label.
I still struggle with depression because of where I'm from and what I accepted as my reality back then but everything seems bearable now. I have friends who love and family who love me and accept me for who I am and know that being gay is only a minor part of that. I now know the struggle has made me who I am, as messed up as that can be sometimes. I realize that at some point, it just got better.
There are so many terrible experiences i could share but there are much more wonderful memories that seem to eclipse those now. I wish I could share them all, leaving no one who has helped me along the way out but I would inevitably forget something important.
So what I would say to anyone who might be reading this is that yes It Does Get Better. It seems easy to say and harder to believe when you're in the middle of it but it's true. Though there may be no one like you, there are a lot of people in a similar situation. Choose to live, choose to seek out the people who will love you, choose to help other people and to set an example and if you can't choose those things, choose to keep your head down until you can. But don't choose death, as hard as it is to imagine sometimes that it's not the only choice. Live your life because with each passing day...
It Gets Better.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Death and a Funeral
I was thinking after the wake yesterday, people are so afraid of death and what they should be afraid of is being the ones left behind. It seems like when someone dies, they have peace, but it's terribly difficult on the people left behind.
I hate it when people ask me how I am in everyday life but when they ask at a funeral what are you supposed to say? I mean saying "I'm good" seems to be, I don't know, wrong somehow. It also seems wrong when people come up and whisper in the family members ears and make them cry. It pisses me off actually, when someone walks up to my mother and whispers something and she cries. That might just me being overprotective.
Just for the record, I don't want a traditional funeral. I want to be cremated and I want people to dance. I don't want people to worry about what's proper or what they're 'supposed' to do. Go crazy.
I hate it when people ask me how I am in everyday life but when they ask at a funeral what are you supposed to say? I mean saying "I'm good" seems to be, I don't know, wrong somehow. It also seems wrong when people come up and whisper in the family members ears and make them cry. It pisses me off actually, when someone walks up to my mother and whispers something and she cries. That might just me being overprotective.
Just for the record, I don't want a traditional funeral. I want to be cremated and I want people to dance. I don't want people to worry about what's proper or what they're 'supposed' to do. Go crazy.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Gym Rat
OK, maybe not so much a gym rat but I am now, for the first time in my life, a member of a gym. I went up to the new rec center and took a little tour. It was a little much lol. I couldn't even go into the pool area because I am sooooo not ready to get in a pool yet. So I just looked through the window real quick lol. The gym was nice though and they have like 6 elliptical machines, which is really what I wanted to do at first. Trying to get the cardio up. I also need to get more comfortable with working out in front of other people because I'm entirely too self conscious. But if I can't work out then I can't get comfortable with it, so there we have it. They also have Zumba and Aqua Zumba but they're during the day at like 10am which is redic. Aqua Zumba is on the weekend but I couldn't bring myself to go because of the water issues. So I hope the fact that I have paid for the membership will force me to get up and go to the gym. We'll see :-D Maybe I should take before and after pictures...maybe not lol
Friday, April 2, 2010
"Taxing" experience
OK...Filing my state taxes (aka...the bane of existence). What an experience this has been lol. I couldn't figure out how to file them on TaxAct when I filed my federal because I worked in two states. So it's been like two months of me thinking I need to do something about them. Then I was supposed to go with Sara but for reasons untold I didn't make that. Then I was supposed to go another day and that didn't work out and when I finally went the lady who does them was at a management meeting. So I found out when she would be doing them again and I tried to go this morning to get them done. She was not in the office and the lady who was in the office was SUPER helpful, and I say that in THE most sarcastic way I possibly can. So with a headache starting I just said screw it, well not screw it...I was actually cursing everyone in aloud in my car, and I went to H&R Block.
What a help they were...and by help I mean they couldn't help me at all and asked if I could come back Monday when the manager gets back from a mini vacation. OK, two things are wrong with this.
1. If you work at H&R Block you should really know how to do taxes...just a thought.
2. What kind of business lets people take time off on their busiest time of the year.
Feeling defeated I went to Wal Mart to pick up my new glasses, which I LOVE, and possibly drown my sorrows in a nice purchase. After I picked up my glasses, which I'm not sure I mentioned...I LOVE, I looked around at the advice of Sara and saw a Jackson Hewitt in a little booth set up in the front of Wal Mart. Two small desks and with chairs in front of them, one lady working...The lady had just finished up with someone so I walked over and explained my story to her. She was very perceptive and I gathered my tax information from the car. She seriously did them in like 15 minutes. It was a HUGE relief! About halfway through she looked at me and said, "You look really familar but I'm not sure why." I told her I felt the same way and she went back to work. While I was signing the paper work she realized she knew me because her 11 year old daughter was in Willy Wonka with me. We had spent half of last summer together. What fun! We chatted a little longer and she gave my info to mail out and I headed out of there.
After all was said and done, I'm getting my tax return and I got to catch up a little with an acquaintance and H&R can suck it!!
OH, I also made deviled eggs for the first time today and they weren't bad but they weren't as good as Rusty and Nicole's...
What a help they were...and by help I mean they couldn't help me at all and asked if I could come back Monday when the manager gets back from a mini vacation. OK, two things are wrong with this.
1. If you work at H&R Block you should really know how to do taxes...just a thought.
2. What kind of business lets people take time off on their busiest time of the year.
Feeling defeated I went to Wal Mart to pick up my new glasses, which I LOVE, and possibly drown my sorrows in a nice purchase. After I picked up my glasses, which I'm not sure I mentioned...I LOVE, I looked around at the advice of Sara and saw a Jackson Hewitt in a little booth set up in the front of Wal Mart. Two small desks and with chairs in front of them, one lady working...The lady had just finished up with someone so I walked over and explained my story to her. She was very perceptive and I gathered my tax information from the car. She seriously did them in like 15 minutes. It was a HUGE relief! About halfway through she looked at me and said, "You look really familar but I'm not sure why." I told her I felt the same way and she went back to work. While I was signing the paper work she realized she knew me because her 11 year old daughter was in Willy Wonka with me. We had spent half of last summer together. What fun! We chatted a little longer and she gave my info to mail out and I headed out of there.
After all was said and done, I'm getting my tax return and I got to catch up a little with an acquaintance and H&R can suck it!!
OH, I also made deviled eggs for the first time today and they weren't bad but they weren't as good as Rusty and Nicole's...
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