Untitled.

Fight or flight ?

Cry tonight ?

What's my option?

You're not around so much anymore.

Seems as though this bed is always cold on the left side.

Try again?

Will you please be my friend?

Is this alright?

Is my grip holding you to too tight?

Seems as though you've got a wondering eye.

So sassy, is it pondering another guy?.

You say I mistrust, which I do.

But it's never about me ... it's all about you.

How could I ever feel like you've got my back

When all that I do is scratch yours.

So angry you are.

So dissapointed I am.

So heartbreaking it is . . .

I Want To Go Home. But Where Is Home When Security Is In Question.

So the boyfriend just randomly canceled evening plans to take a walk alone to the park at 9pm. With ETA on his return and no hint as to why he departed, I am left to wonder why so much mystery behind this "walk". Of course worry will have it's abusive way with my mind; suggesting to me that he's meeting up with some other boy for a nice fuck in the park because I don't fuck him like he wants to be fucked.

I made chicken pesto with rice and roasted potatoes for dinner, but when I offered it to him he seemed uninterested as though it's the norm, as though he had better things to do. And yet in my mind I believe all of this worry to be a product of my co-dependence upon him. Earlier this afternoon I described to my sister about how he and I are NEVER apart and even when we are apart, that it seems so unnatural to be apart for we live, breathe, sleep and eat together - hell we even go to school together and take the same class together.

But why now after months of content, why now do I worry that he has grown tired of me?. Why now do I imagine him smiling in the eyes of a shadow figure male. Why do I see him bending over for a model ?. And though I have an evening alone (something that I wanted badly) now I find myself drunk with worry and angst. I'm depressed, I'm listening to sad music and imagining the affair as though it were a scene on the television set. Perhaps today is the spoken about anniversary between he and his ex which they still celebrate.

Is it considered a faux pas to continue celebration of a past relationship as though it still holds meaning between your present lover and his or her ex?. Should we draw the line with a "hey buddy, I'm in your life now !" or do we show our support by not saying anything at all ?. You see, I am very confused by this because I do not feel like it's polite to constantly live in somebody else's shadow. It's not fair for me to feel as tired as I do and yet to feel like there is still a shadow in his life who receives any ounce of his affection.

The truth is that something does not feel right at the present moment, and I am hard settled on worrying about it until I come up with an answer. Sometimes the best way to describe this feeling is to say "I want to go home" or rather take me back to my sense of safety. What is he doing out there, who is he speaking to when I am not around. Is my jealousy making a cameo appearance or is this a return to form as it were. Where's my safety, and why have I always felt second best to porn actors and models on the television set. Why do I feel a sense of worthlessness when he stares into the eyes of attractive mutual friends with a once familiar look unto my own eyes. Am I losing ground here?, or will my infectious insecurity lead me to my ultimate fate as "second best" to another man.

I suppose that all I want to know is .... am I doing something wrong?, am I boring you?, have I failed you? . . . did I give up on us a long time ago?.

A Story

I'm bored and tired and I have nothing to say in any particualar order. I'm having a moment where I don't exactly feel like the world cares about what I have to say. I am at the hour when secrets are too tired to come out and play. Right about now I could just use a drink with a few good friends without any drama of those which do not handle their liquor. These are the ones I love, but I just can't handle fighting with when drunk. So I've quit as well. Still however, it would be nice to just have a glass of wine with a friend and talk like young adults. I can't drink anymore because I have an example to uphold.

My boyfriend and I have gone through some pretty serious fights when we drink and it's disfunctional. I've always been a pretty peppy, happy and easy going "drunk", I may get a little bit loud but I never instigate fights which is something that my boyfriend does when he drinks. The last time we both drank together he blacked out and kissed another guy at a party. He thankfully admitted it to me - but it still hurt a lot and I seriously had considered breaking the relationship up. I told him that if he wanted to redeem his mistake that he would stop drinking. He's 19 and has absolutely no concept of control when it comes to substances like alcohol. And he's also a pretty angy, horny drunk which makes me feel really uncomfortable as though I am going to be cheated on or yelled at when I get home.

So I am forced into a big brother role sort of because I have to set the example of how it needs to be. Controlling yes, but I have to maintain my safety as well as put ends to toxic behavior. I'm the child of an alcoholic and I can't stand to babysit adults especially when they treat me like shit in return. I'm not into it, and I will not tolerate it. So - I ended it. Much like J******n would not tolerate me smoking cigarettes, I quit the habit in order to sacrifice and change for this relationship. And that's exactly what J******n did for me with partying and drinking. He made a change and I really appreciate and honor that. So for that reason, I will not drink around him nor do I feel comfortable being tipsy around him anymore. I do not want to be a hypocrite.

I don't know, I'm just tired and sometimes I want to be able to act my age instead of having to pretend as though I am not legal to drink when I want to. There are some times that I just wish that my boyfriend knew how to drink like an adult instead of a child, and that I could trust him not to treat me like shit when he does drink. Kissing another man is not the only way that he's hurt me when drunk. He flirts with other men, he starts fights and instigates them by asking me "are you mad at me?". Often I'll say no and he'll call me a liar. He's gotten physically aggressive and often likes to bring up really ugly topics such as cheating and monogomy issues. So it's not safe and it's unfair and it's always ugly. Yet there has been only one time when I ended up getting a bit more drunk than he -and he totally condemned me for it, left me in tears and punished me the following day through silence. So I vowed to no longer drink - and I kept that promise. So there is now a very solid non alcoholic rule in my home. So now I am left with the responsibility not to drink - and now I can't do it with my friends.

Grandma

Maybe it's the weekend, maybe it's the clouds outside, maybe it's me, or maybe it's life. This weekend is proving - - no this past week has proven to be a challenge to my entire family. Monday started out like any other, I went to school, I worked out, I went to volunteer with BRO for a few hours, I got home, and then I got a telephone call. My Grandmother had to go to the ER for breathing complications and a weak state of being.

I missed the call due to napping when I got home, but as soon as I got the call I ran to Sacred Heart Hospital's ER. She seemed tired, her lips appeared somewhat purple toned (not a healthy sign) and her speech seemed some what fatigued. Apparently she had some kind of a fall at home due to weakness of body, a symptom of her COPD. By the end of the night she agreed to be admitted into the care of Sacred Heart.

Throughout the week she looked promising, despite her hatred for a strapped breathing mask that the doctors attached to her face to regulate her dioxide levels. My grandmother was scheduled to come home yesterday afternoon at about 5:00 pm; I waited at my house for the call to help her get home. It was at about 4:30 pm that I checked my phone to see if anybody called to queue me toward the hospital for grandma's departure. I had received a text which said "G ma got worst call asap", followed with a missed telephone call from my sister. At that moment life stood still, time stopped, the minutes dragged on like the times I'd been high on streets in Oakland. Only this time, I was sober and this was a harsh reality.

Upon my arrival to the hospital I found my grandmother sitting bedside with nurses, my mother and my sister all aiding her needs. My grandmother did not look healthy at all. Her eyes were droopy, her face pale, her body in tremors. The hours that followed my arrival felt like an emotional typhoon. The basic message from the doctor was that my grandmother would more than likely not make it through the night, this was the same thing which my mother had said on the telephone to me at 4:30. The general idea was that if my grandmother stayed in the hospital on the breathing treatment; that she may pass away in the middle of the night. She continued on to say that if we took my grandmother home as per her "death request" that she may survive, but that likely she would not.

As we waited for social work to come through and for her to be released, the general sense felt hopeful as though maybe she was pulling out of it. The respiratory nurse came in at about 8:00 pm to check on things and make sure that the "darth vader" mask (as I nick named it) was secure on my grandmother's head. It was at this point that my mother decided to ask what the mask was for. And after a few short descriptive medical sentences the nurse pretty much told us that this "Vader" mask was my grandmother's "Life Support".

To receive the description of life support came very unsettling to my mother, sister and I. It just did not make sense; why had they not told us about this subtle reality during the week ?, why did they not tell us that this mask was a life support means?, and why . My grandmother had requested that if something were to happen to her, that any hospital she were in would not take any extraordinary means to save her. And though this breathing machine was not extraordinary, it seemed to us as though it was a bit too much to add to her stress of being sick in the first place.

With the doctors grant and the request of my grandmother, this was now the hour for critical decisions to be made. Doctor Adams advised that if my grandmother were to stay the night in the hospital that her chances of survival would be greater than if she were to go home as requested. My mother had to make the decision to take her home so that if last night was the hour, that she would pass in peace, in her own bed, and at home. Once the decision was made, the hours waiting for transport seemed to take forever.

As she would fall into various deep slumbers, my Grandmother seemed to be weakening. I sat bedside praying my hail Mary's and asking God to bring her strength. I don't feel like it's her time to go. I feel like she has more fight in her, and I do not want her to give up. But it was in this moment that I realized that we need her more than she needs us at this point, and that every day from here on out with her is a gift. For God is showing us something in this experience that life does leave us and life does not last on tis earth forever.

We got her home at about 10:30 pm, and she seemed much happier to sleep in her own bed. Though she's weak,shaky and confused I do feel as though taking her away from the hospital was the best thing for my grandmother. She survived the night and that gives me more hope than the doctors and nurses did. All that we can do from this moment on out is hope,pray and celebrate her life. Tomorrow is Mother's day and I want to spend it with my grandma and my own mother. Throughout such experiences we witness "scenes" as it were. The image of my mother watching her own mother become critically ill and making decisions in honor of my grandmother's wishes only reminded me that some day I will be standing in my mother's shoes and that I will have to be strong enough to care for her as well. Death is a reality of life, it's the end to the story that God wrote for us.

In this life all tat we can do is love those we will lose some day. And if we find ourselves in the position of knowing that we are losing somebody we love, then we need to use that time to say the words "I love you" to that person. Because someday you may not have that person with you to receive the message. So make sure that you tell the people you love that you love them. And do not be afraid of the moment that they are gone - because as hard as it is for you to "lose" that person they become a part of you. I have confidence in my grandmother because she is indeed a fighter. At 85 years of age I think she's got a few months left in her and I am not going to give up on her just yet.

Lessons From These Little Earthquakes. Growing On A Fault Line.

Hey everyone,

So I have not been here for a while. Firstly because my internet service has been out like a sick puppy, and second because I have neened some time to myself. I'm back in school full-time now studying music and theater. It's awesome but lot's of work. I started school two weeks into the spring term which still has me catching up on home work. I am also involved in various non profit organizations around town here. I've been volunteering for Basic Rights Oregon, Womenspace and I've just signed on for an internship with the Oregon Students Equal Rights Association (OSERA). I'm running for student senate which should hopefully put me into the front line of student body issues and needs. I'm finding myself slowly sinking deeper into a sociology field through these various causes that I am working for.

Home life has been on an up/down scale. I've gone through a few recent relationship issues which needed to be resolved. In the end I learned about what it means to be true to somebody else other than yourself and to question your decisions after you make them. I long for respect, love and loyalty - and the scenario which I am referring to here showed me a real break in all three of those requirements. And in the end I took him back. The decision was made based upon the fact that he was drunk, and also that I did unto him what I would want him to do to me if I were in the same situation (though I know he never would). I still feel a bit of an inner sinking when I explain my decisions and actions because I feel as though I decided to be strong for him instead of being strong for myself.

My involvement with the Kapgar blog contest ended up failing because I did not have ny access to the internet and I've been some what depressed as of late. But the main problem with this was that I did not feel comfortable enough to openly celebrate my sexuality through stories and jokes. It's kind of like getting the green light and then pissing it all away and I apologize to the guys over there Kevin and Carly for my lack in participation, and I thank you guys for taking me on even though I only busted out about three or four blogs for the contest. It was fun and I intend on continuing to examine my own sexuality through sharing stories in the future. I just don't know that I was fully ready to step into my own shoes yet.

"When You Gonna Make Up Your Mind, When You Gonna Love You Like I Do"...(Tori Amos, Winter). The lyrics to Tori Amos's 1992 single "Winter" remind me of myself at the present time. Relying on others for security when in fact I have that security right here inside of me. My strength is nowhere near anybody else, it has to come from within. I know that it is there, but I do not use it. It's like having a raft but not letting yourself swim. I have to swim, I have to get to the other side. I have to take responsibility for my anguish in times that I feel let down. I have to come to terms with who I am in order not to allow others to break me into their own mold. The entire album to Tori Amos's "Little Earthquakes" means something more to me now that I am actually realizing the transformation phase that the album represents. Are these Little Earthquakes the lessons that we need to learn on the path to our individuality and warriorhood?.

Perhaps the answer unfolds during each day, each week, throughout the end of the month and the conclusion of the year. Ten years on and these lessons will be so engrained into our "self" that we will have to ask ourselves "how did I become ....". Even now I am having to ask myself how I got stuck into the archetype of the Nice Guy only to try and break the habits that have brought me here. I have learned so much in the past year about how to speak when need be and not to allow for others to dictate your feelings and control your needs and emotions. It's so important to validate your emotions by expressing them in a healthy way. It's also KEY to not lose your stand when you take one. It's healthy to be open minded to other's defense so long as you are not being attacked. And it is so very imperative that we remain true to ourselves always. These are the lessons that these little earthquakes have taught me thus far, and I am positive that there are more along the way. Some day I will be full - some day I will move on toward the next walk. But for now I am still growing up on the fault line.

Sexual Assault; video awareness.

So before you watch these videos, I did a random search on you tube for rape an sexual assault, the results were not as massive as I though they may be, but I took what I could grab to re post here before I go to class this morning. I feel it's important throughout this contest that I also show some videos and share some music. The first video here is a PSA about date rape and it was made by a few students. The second video is a collection of art and music which highlights rape within a marriage (yes unwanted sex in wed lock is rape too), and finally I thought I would share a video by Tori Amos called "Me and a Gun", which documents Tori's own experience with sexual violence and assault. So please watch, please thing and please make a donation to RAINN during sexual assault awareness month.

Sex, School And a Rant.

Right now I don't know what to say. I am supposed to be going back to school and nobody can truly know why it is that I am back in. I am going back to school at the moment because my boyfriend has taken my by the hand to do so. My mother just finished yelling at me for taking classes which are too easy, my H.S. Tutor/adviser yelled at me this morning for not going to classes from the day they began and I am yelling at myself for not being a man and taking my own direction.

I am tired of lying to my mother about the life that I am living. I ended up gettin defensive and telling her something along the lines of "you don't know the first about my life so you have no right to yell at me for the classes that I am taking.". Hell I even had to lie to her that financial aid came through because I had to have a cover story. I am tired of the lies, you have to create lies to cover lies and now I am so buried within lies that I can't even stand straight.

I feel like I am trying to please everybody else but my self. It's starting to kill me because I don't know what I want anymore. I am living a double life. To my mom I am the son who's living "on his own" for the first time. To my boyfriend I am me. To my sister I am stressed out all the time and to my family I am "busy". But I can't be all of these people any more, I don't think that I can lie about it. I am so afraid of what everybody will think about my sexuality that I can't even begin to accept myself for who I really am.

I can't even have sex without feeling some kind of hell fire biting me in the ass. I've been taking confirmation classes to become a fully baptized and "sainted" Catholic, and yet here I am fucking my boyfriend after mass. I remind myself of that old school Bon Jovi video where the young girl goes to mass in the morning and ends up fucking a guy in the back of a car by nightfall. I just don't know what is wrong with me. Why are we made to feel so shamed for our sexuality. Gay, straight, whatever; "sex is wrong" and we are to "repent" from the sins of the flesh if we are to go to heaven. If Adam had not fallen for eve and all that crap. I'm just confused, and I feel so ashamed for the life I'm living.

I apologize to the readers out there who are wondering why I am so angry at the moment, but I really do feel like I am going to burn in hell for having a sex drive (and I've kept it LOW for sake of keeping those gates closed). Last night my boyfriend and I were about to go to bed when suddenly we started to fool around. At some point I asked him if he wanted to have sex and he said yes. So I got the condoms out (I believe in SAFE before regret and worry) and I began to do the dirty. I swear to god I lasted 2 minuted before I came because in the back of my head I was going "Oh you are going against the teachings of the church you son of a bitch, you hypocrite, you heathen". The nerves alone made me finish long before I was ready to and that's just a shame!.

I feel like if you are going to enjoy sex, you have to cut yourself off from your spiritual/religious self. It's like you can't just have sex and enjoy it without feeling conscious of it at all times . Lord knows the paradox arrives when I am having sex with my partner and I am worrying about the motion and how well I am pleasuring his body and what not. Which brings me to my next point, which I have discussed before. I feel as though I am kinky by nature because I am afraid to be a sexual being and a human being at the same time (yes we know they are the same, but I do feel as though I am two halves here). So I like it rough, and I like to tease and I like to play the "you cant touch me, but I can touch you" game.

It's just...... why so much guilt God?, why do I feel like sex is a "pagan" act?. Why do I feel as though I am doomed to hell by expressing myself within a committed and healthy relationship. Homosexuality aside, why do I feel this?. Is it because deep inside I "know" it's "wrong"?. Or is it because I was taught it to be wrong ?. And will there be forgiveness at the end of this class ?. I just don't understand, and with my confirmation coming this weekend (Sunday) I am especially counting all of my sins because I am about to confirm myself within this church that teaches these morals. And that's why I do not feel worthy of confirmation because I am not living by their set of morals anymore.

Please visit Kapgar for more information on the current blog contest that my blog is a part of, and consider a donation to RAINN during sexual assault awareness month. Thank you :).

Abuse has many faces.

*Note that this blog took 3 days to finish due to schedule conflicts choppy as it may be, it's been a bitch to get it right because I'm an Irish LEO and I want to say it all !*

It may be suggested that as children we are completely submitted to our personal will. Rarely do we think about the consequences of the many wild actions and words we perform and speak. But when I was young, there were ramifications such as my father's anger (un)management issues which taught me early on that it was not OK to express my emotional and physical needs before others, and that often times would result in receiving abuse, which ends the process in fear. I went on for about 17 years of my life that way until my father finally moved out on the family in 2001. Unfortunately as soon as my father the tyrant left the picture, the mother beast came walking into the room with a bottle of gin and a lifetime of guilt to follow.

My mother had been in recovery for about 13 years until she went to this wedding, which my dad was once again being an ass, and in the end she lost her sobriety. At first I did not really care because I had not really remembered what it was like as a child to have an alcoholic mother. My sister however knew exactly what we were all in for and took it with a slash to the heart. The years which followed that wedding showed me what true alcoholics will do in order to daily re victimize themselves.

There is a great selfishness that supports addiction. It is a mind frame which an individual believes that they are so powerless, so angry and so low that they won't come back up to surface again. Often times these people bring their friends and family down hill with them. To be the child of an alcoholic creates a sense that your own emotional needs and desires mean nothing in comparison to your parents pain and suffering. Personally, this seed was planted in me years ago and I am still learning about how to kill the weed I know as Co-dependence.

Victimization is one of the many emotional responses to trauma. I've dealt with years of on again/off again depression. I found anorexia to be the key which allowed for control to come back in to my life during a time when I felt there to be no other way out. There have been days which I've entered into the "death" mind frame, but never once have I desired to give up. The reality is that my mother is an alcoholic, she is sick, but I do not have to be isolated in order to be safe; I finally decided to no longer entertain her misery and self inflicted suffering, and I began to wake out of the slumber of my mother's suffering.

Being the child of an addict often results in feelings of inadequacy, separation from peers and the enhanced sense of being responsible for other people's actions. When I finally left my mother's house to return for California in 2003 - 2006 I began the journey of my own self discovery. When one lives under the roof of their parents for so many years it has a tendency to control and direct our life experiences. Sexually I had never been with anybody, I had never done any drugs, I had never been drunk, I had prided myself on being "good" because being fully responsible was the complete opposite of my Mother's example during those years.

My obsession with being pure and beautiful would lead me toward more power struggles within myself. I starved in order to feel beautiful. Beauty was something that I did not feel was accessible because I had no sense of who I was. I'd hit myself in the face just to destroy what looks I did have, the same looks that I had no control over. The anger that I was feeling toward my mother, toward my life and toward my family; I turned inward. The act of turning anger inward is defined as depression.

I've spent the past 3 or more years in an on again/off again relationship with depression. There have been days that I would keep the curtains closed and throw a blanket over my head. My friends would try and take me out for the night, to a movie, out for a drink or to a casual party; but I would remain indoors because I felt trapped in my own flesh and in my own head. I was so angry but I knew that I could not express this anger in a healthy way I.E. "Mom I feel angry because __". The reason that I could not express myself to my mother was for the same reason that I never confronted my father on his rage problems; there is always a consequence.

So in turn, I decided to take my anorexia, my self degradation and my low self image out the door and I traveled about town flaunting it to others. Low self image tends to bring the dogs out of the pound for a great mating season. For so long I had been a single, lonely boy who had never been kissed, and suddenly I started to experiment sexually. In a naive state of mind, I would hope for commitment in these "relationships", but would receive abasement and sadness.

They would treat me like a prince only to dump me a week later, they would openly make fun of me, cheat on me and betray my body just for entertainment. And at the end of it all, I would allow them to stay in my life as "friends" because I did not want to be alone. I would always hope that some day they might realize the wrongs that they committed against me and apologize for them. But in the end it was I who would have to re claim my body and re claim my self through demanding them to listen and to rebuke them from my life for good.

By voicing myself and telling them how I felt, the embarrassment, the anger and the emptiness that they'd left me with I took my voice back. They of course did not care at all, in fact they went on to spread rumors about me to other friends in our "circle". So what I decided to do was change my circle of friends, and by doing so I supported myself with strength and a new opportunity for healthy friendships and relationships. Abuse comes in so many different forms, the most tragic abuse however is the abuse that we commit to our selves in response to the abuse that others have set against us. Let not your voice be silenced, stand up for yourself and be strong.

This blog was written to raise awareness for the survivors of sexual assault during sexual assault awareness month. If you have been, or if you know anyone that has been assaulted sexually please show your support to my blog and to yourself or loved ones by making a donation to RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest,National Network)

Sexuality And (This) Catholic's Misconception.

"Irish Catholic" The words alone bring to mind years of sexual confusion and repression. As a young man raised within the Catholic church I am still learning about my own sexuality. The simple truth is this, we (Catholics) are not proud of sex, we do not even .... enjoy it, it's something that we believe is to create new life. And if you are a homosexual Catholic - oh honey you've got some kinda new hell casted guilt to drive you out of your mind. But for now let's focus on what it was like for a child like me to grow up Catholic, and how that upbringing has brought me to the place I am today.

So here is something funny that I just now learned . . . The Sixth commandment teaches us not to kill, and this whole time I was under the impression that it commanded us not to commit adultery. Somehow I received the sixth commandment as the "sex one", and it has absolutely nothing to do with sex !!!!!. So here is what this means to this Catholic. Since I was the age of fourteen I have been going to confession. Its a dark box in the middle of a church where you kneel at the foot of Christs blood and confess your wrong doings to a consecrated man that gives you absolution when complete. For most people this is a very intimidating moment; for me, it's a free counseling session.

I remember preparing for my first confession. Unlike most traditional Catholic children, I had not received my first reconciliation before first holy communion. So when I had mentioned this to my private school teacher (who is a very, very devout Catholic) she immediately set up an appointment for confession at St. Albert's monastery with Fr.Yankov (an older priest from Germany). Now confession recalls for us to "examine the conscience", so to help me with that Vicki gave me a little hand out called "Examination Of The Conscience". This little paper listed each of the Ten Commandments and broke them down into mini sins.

Now perhaps it was my nerves which lead to the misunderstanding that I am about to describe. But within the last five to ten minutes (in preparation to write this blog) I have learned that the "Sixth Commandment" is not the commandment which advises us to prevent "Sins of the flesh" through adultery but rather the commandment which demands us not to kill or slay thy neighbor. The funny little fact about this ..... is that for years I have been going to confession to confess "Committing the sixth commandment against myself and against others". To which the priest always goes awkwardly silent or coughs.

All these years I've thought that the big no no sin (adultery) was the 6th commandment when in truth I was completely wrong all along and now as I sit here typing this out, I laugh because it's absolutely ridiculous to have gone along all of these years repenting from "The Sixth Commandment Against Myself And Against Others" in order not to say the words, "Father I have Masturbated, and I am having sex with my boyfriend". So instead I've got priest from across the west coast line believing that I am a serial killer instead of an adulterer .

Catholics like myself do very odd things in order not to feel as though you are smacking The Lord in the face. For example if I am fooling around with my boyfriend, I will swiftly but not obviously pull my crucifix from my neck and set it aside my bed. There was one time recently when I forgot to take it off, and my boyfriend came on it and .... I sort of felt like I'd just damned myself. In my personal experience as a sexually active Catholic, I've had to separate my sexual being from my religious/spiritual being. It's almost as though there are times when I have to play the role of the "whore" in order to be sexually assertive.

Catholics in bed are like bunny rabbits out of a cage. When the camera's are off, the show gets real. The idea that I identify with having two separate beings (sexual vs spiritual) makes it easier to have sex without feeling like I am about to send my ass to hell. The fact that I am gay is a whole different examination of conscience to examine later. But for now I will continue on with the fact that I am still uncomfortable with sexuality in general. I am still learning how to re sex the self that has always believed sex was immoral, wrong and unjust. It's an every day process to believe in myself enough to go ahead with it and "get it on".

For those of you who are still reading, please show the staff over @ RAINN that you support sexual assault awareness through the month of April by making a Donation or by visiting my friends over at KAPGAR to show that you are aware that April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month.

April Is Sexual Assault Awareness Month.

Hey there, I've got some really exciting news to share with you (who may or may not be reading this, I really don't know how many hits I receive here). I have been selected by the crew over at KAPGAR to write about my sexual history per se during this month. I am both excited and honored to be a part of this awesome experience as I hope to donate my voice toward celebrating sexuality and raising awareness to those who have survived sexual violence.

Now It has been about 3 days into the month now and I am just now sitting down to write my first post. I sort of hate that missed out on two whole days of this contest. I am hoping to gain a few readers who will perhaps relate to my stories and experiences, and maybe even find a moment to post comment or share their own story back. Once again, when Kevin over at Kapgar.com emailed me to let me know that my blog was approved for the contest - I was jumping up and down.

So I guess this sort of leaves me to tell you little bit about myself. Normally I try my best to remain anonymous on this blog, being that I escape to this place in order to write out all of my little secrets and the true feelings that I have about life, experiences, friends and family. I started this blog last summer after jogging all over the internet to find the perfect host. I decided to write over here at Blogger when I had taken notice to Tori Amos posting her blog "Clyde Speaks" (a blog to support the theme to her album "American Doll Posse").

I have been faithfully following the work of Tori Amos since 1993 when I discovered a "funny looking" red head on my television set. This was probably about an hour before I was set to go of to the prison I would call "St.Leo's Catholic School" Grade 3 with Ms.Donnely. The character on the television set was singing something about cornflakes. . . and being that I was eating a bowel as she sang it, I thought it was kinda funny. My sister on the other hand could not stand the song and claimed that she was a "bad woman" and that I needed to turn the channel before I get in trouble. I went to school that day singing a song about cornflakes, which would stick with me for the years to follow.

In 1993 I must have been about ..... seven years of age or so. My home was always in dysfunction. My father had major anger issues and my mother never really did anything but argue with him when the pot boiled my father's rage in the kitchen for dinner. My childhood was surrounded by "emotional violence". I grew with an every day tyrant that was my father's anger issues. In his youth my father had been through various foster homes, orphanages and centers for young men. His mother had abandoned him at the age of three, only to retrieve him some years later. It was during those "lost" years however that he had been sexually molested by a group of women within foster home.

Although he finds it hard to examine today, I believe that my father still harvests resentment, anger and dislike for the reasoning behind his mother abandoning him for "another marriage". He never seemed to truly unmask that pain, he never really seemed to admit the true emotions behind his rage or perhaps to shine some real light upon the feelings surrounding his early childhood sexual victimization. I do believe that he turned his feelings inward toward lust and denial.

I was about 8 or 9 when I first discovered that my father had an addiction to pornography. I had been rummaging through our basement when I opened a box that had some kind of image of a woman opening her genital area with this incredibly disgusting look on her face . It confused the hell out of me because I did not really know how all of that had worked yet. The most sex education I'd had up until that point was from the night that my father interrupted an episode of Clarrissa Explain's It All to tell me about how . . . "On a very special day, your mother and I went to the doctor's to make a baby." he continued to tell me that "The woman lies on a table and opens her legs and the man lays on top of her. There is doctor in the room to make sure that the baby reaches the woman so that she can have a baby" and that "It feels Sooooooo good". This is of course the way that his explanation remained within my young brain.

Sex is obviously fascinating to children as we all naturally want to know how we got here. Being raised by my mother as a Catholic, I was generally kept in the dark about how sex really worked, what the science of sex was and how a man and woman come together to make a new life cell. It was thanks to my aunt Eileen who took my cousin and I aside one day (with my mothers permission) to straighten out our idea's of sexuality. It is natural for boys to become curious about how sex works. We have an idea about how fun it is to touch ourselves; but we don't really know how it all works when we are around the age of 8-9.

My aunt straightened out the idea that my father had given me, but once again reinstated the idea that sex only happens during a "very special time" during two people. This really made me go back to the idea my father had given me that you have to schedule out a sex appointment!. I did not really understand why you would have to schedule something like sex. Here is my tip to all parents or guardians when teaching your children how sex works - do be careful how you compose your words because it's really not easy piecing sex together from your original ideas - to how it really works.

Today I am 23 years of age and I've experience loss, gain, trust, distrust, abuse, longing for love, friendship, betrayal and coming to terms with myself. In the end I am still quite naive when it comes to sexuality. I have a lot more skin to fill in order to truly embrace my being and walk with my head high above churches, haters and even my own family. I am a gay male who is still questioning himself for the paths he's taken to get where he is today. I am a Domestic Violence advocate at WomenSpace. I am a human, My mother, my friends and my family have survived sexual violence, and I encourage you to come back and read more at Boy Disappearing to show your support for Sexual Assault Awareness month.

I have so many more stories about how I've come into my own sexuality, I can't wait to re explore the past and share with you all the present of my sexual chronicles. I was taught as a Catholic that you are to put clamp on sexuality, this is something that I m still getting through. I look forward to doing some research and to write out all my my thoughts on various sub topics of sexuality. Once again I encourage anybody who's reading this to head on over to The Rape Abuse & Incest Nationl Network (RAINN) to show your support of my blog or make a donation for Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Link them to this blog and tell them what you think. Also visit my buddies @Kapgar.com for more info on the 2008 blog contest. Thanks to everyone who has read my blog in the past and welcome to all of those who are just now tuning in. Be well.


-S

We built this city on anger.

Right now I just need to write this out because it's hurting me not to at least acknowledge the pain. This weekend my boyfriend and I took a trip to the city to get away from all of our smaller town woes and just relax. He got us this beautiful Hotel room which is very mod and chic. In fact I am drawing a lot of inspiration from this room, and I want to bring that style back into my own apartment when we return back to E-----e.

Last night J. and I went to a local Dyke bar to support a new friend that we had made through a mutual friend. The bar was a smoky little dive with tons of drag kings and harsh looking women who ended up being very supportive of us "men" being in the building. After a good long round of drinks and Karaoke it was time for us to return to our Hotel room and get some sleep. I was pretty much sober but my boyfriend was hammered. I did not let him know however; that I was indeed sober again, because I was trying to avoid his very typical "are you mad at me" conversation.

By the time we'd hit the corner, he was refusing to call a cab and suggested that we walk our way back to the hotel. At this point I knew that we were miles across town and that walking would not be a good idea because we don't know the city. This is when he began to pull out some harsh attitude with me and tried to start a fight. I did not respond accordingly to what I was feeling on the inside at that moment because it would have resulted in him confronting me with questions that have no right answer; no matter how easy they may be.

I had suggested that we were heading in the wrong direction and that we needed to stop, and this is when he turned to me and began yelling at me saying that "Don't FUCKING tell me I'm wrong, when I know that I'm right, you always do that to me . . . I'm SMARTER Than you and you and you need to shut up", it was at this point that I began to feel some "fight" in me but decided not to defend myself, the most that I did was ask him to please "Stop yelling at me". I had to repeat this about 6 times before he firmly grabbed at my wrist [enough to hurt and startle me] for about a few seconds and say once more that I'm not as smart as him so I needed to stop talking.

The rest of the wait for our taxi was spent by me pretending to feel safe, and pretending to be happy. This morning as I woke next to him I did not feel as safe as I normally do. I feel hurt and I don't think that he will accept what I have to confront him with on this case. Generally as it has been explored in this scenario; my boyfriend hates to be "wrong". And when we argue - I generally have to back down because he will not see his actions clearly. It feels as though I am the one who is expected to make changes, and I am the one who gets "called out" for my quirks, and I am the one who has to make it right.

Last night is nothing new, we go through some form of confrontation every time he drinks. The last time that got really drunk however; he decided to judge me and make me feel somewhat less than human, and he yelled at me for being too drunk [which I was] but when I needed his support the most - he felt justified in not lending a hand to me. So where's the balance in this ?, somehow I am starting to feel taken for granted, like he thinks that it's alright to yell at me the way he did last night, and not at least apologize or make corrective action to make it right again. Am I dealing with an age difference here?, what makes it right for me to feel this way? do I have to keep this hurt a secret once more in order to keep the peace ?. What am I to do?.

It's hard when you love somebody, but you begin to feel as though you are "expected" to be perfect. And when you give and give and give - what's stopping that person from expecting to receive again, and again. I ask for three basic components, Honor, Respect, and loyalty. I believe that these things create the formula for a real love. So what do you do when you are beginning to feel constantly insulted, on the edge ["is he going to cheat?"], scared to express your feelings, or terrified that he'll ignore you for the night when you do express yourself.

I do not want to write this blog however; without saying how much I do love J-. He does surprise me with kisses, and he does hold me when I cry. He does express the little things which make us all feel special. And I do love him, some how the first day we met I knew this. But I think that he has a lot of anger inside of him which tends to lash out toward me. And now that we are living together, I feel it a lot more than I did when we were in separate apartments. We have gone through a lot together so far, and the thought of losing him feels like a cut to the chest.

So I'm at a slight bit of a draw here, and I don't know what to do about it. He was drunk - so I can't exactly hold him fully accountable for his actions. I feel like if he were sober then maybe I would be able to hold him at full responsibility. But then again, we are all held accountable for our actions, and he would confront me or cuss me out if I did the same thing to him as he did unto me last night. I can not clean this mess, for he is the one who could not stop at one drink. And it hurts me to say that here, I do not mean any harm to him when I say that. I am not suggesting anything by saying that - but I need to stand up for myself here and not fix his error. Especially when I was the one that fell some what victim to his anger.

I'm Just Having Thoughts . . .

Let me breathe -


This past week has been nothing less than pure stress, and today I am in dire need of personal time. I need to do the things that I love to do without obligation to anybody else. I need to just go for a long walk without a curfew, I need to go to a bar without fear of being called out for being too drunk. I just need a little bit of me time to rejuvenate my inner self and my soul.

At the present moment, I am somewhat apprehensive about returning back to my home which I now share with my boyfriend. There are times when I need alone time, and that is now a place where I cannot attain that. I love my boyfriend, I would do anything for him, and I truly believe that we are of the few successful gay couples in this town. But like any other person, I would be a liar to myself if I said that I did not need my own time every now and again.

The problem is that from time to time I feel like I am constantly accounting for my actions and my whereabouts. If I come home later than I anticipated (generally due to catching rides from my sister) I tend to receive the 'silent treatment' from my boyfriend who does not like it when I am late to arrive for an evening at home. But sometimes I want to stay with my mother, and sometimes I just need to be away from my house and that is perfectly reasonable. Thing is that I am too afraid to request this, because my boyfriend says "You're leaving me again for the whole day", and those words are powerful and make me feel like a real jerk.

With the constant stress of following through for him, I also have the added stress of accounting to my mother why it is that I am always in such a rush home on Sunday's. She still knows nothing of the fact that I have a boyfriend and is still under the impression that I am living alone. The lie that I've given her is going to hurt when brought to truth, and that is something I am having a hard time coming to terms with. My boyfriend is beginning to resent that fact that he is still unknown to my mother which makes me once again feel like the bad guy in this big picture. I am living a triple life here and it's really getting to me. But I need not be judged for the choices that I make, and I need not be held accountable for the needs that I have. I need to be respected and honored for the few needs that I ask for.

I really love my boyfriend, last week he ended up in the Hospital for a stomach related illness which had him in excruciating pain. The though of him in pain, and me not being able to fix it really scared me. When it was all over I ended up breaking down in tears in his arms because the thought of losing him or the thought of him being so scared and alone in his pain, scared me and made me feel helpless. I love him, I want to be there for him, I want to take his pain away, I want to heal him. Since the day that I met him, I knew that I wanted to protect his heart - it's something that I'd never felt before for another person. I genuinely care about him, and I have made many life changes based on his needs. I only feel it to be fair that he understand my needs, and that he value them as well.

A Word, a Thought, a Call For Justice.

I'm growing tired. I'm tired of trying anymore and I'm tired of being a fool. I'm under control and I'm tired of it. I try to express myself but I get in trouble for it. I try to sing but I'm made fun of for it. I try to show emotion but I am judged for it. I try to love but somehow it's not good enough. There is nowhere to turn, nowhere to go. Sometimes when I need to express myself, I feel as though it's not OK. But everybody else in this world can say or do whatever they desire. It's just not fair for me to feel like this, and to constantly change myself when others remain exactly the same, as though it's not a possibility.

Frame The Story, but Do Not Define The Book.

2008 . . . oh what a year she's growing to be. I know that it's March and that I haven't updated anything around here in a while. Hell who's really reading this anyway?. I remember when I made this blog. It was a means for private and secret expression. Nobody was allowed to know who I was - thus I chose the name of Boy Disappearing. I created it during a time in my life when I felt the need to be depressed even though I was happy.

The darkness fascinates me. It protects me from vulnerability and the scorn of being made a fool. To truly feel is something that I steer away from at times. To tell the truth is something that I am learning to become more in touch with but to remain very weary of. And love is something that I have always held inside and finally have somebody to express to. But sometimes I feel imperfect and imperfection scares me.

Daily I am called to be perfect and responsible in all that I do. Truth in conflict is important for sake of holding true to ones self. Yet I often feel like an asshole when I don't have an answer. And sometimes I feel as though I am not being heard. My fears are not validated, and my insecurities are amplified by my thoughts. Yes, 2008 has been a lesson in loss and gain. I remember on the 31'st of December when I realized that this year would be a year of change and growth. Unlike 2005-07's "Year of Miracles" to which the pains of the past somehow made their way out of the door.

Each year will teach me something new about myself. And this year I am growing up. My sheltered existence is in peril, and that is OK. I am learning about finance, love, the self and the soul. I am going through the gambit and I accept that challenge for I know that I will come out as a warrior, and not the defense.

Being fired from my job at STA Travel taught me a great lesson in that I am not to allow anybody to step over me. My boyfriend has begged me to never fight against the enemy but to rise above the enemy through love and respect. This lesson is especially hard for me because I have never defended myself against the aggressor. I am used to being a doormat, and it hurts to be walked on. I try to know everything before it's even expressed by another so to always be on their page. I try to live in a 50/50 household where nobody feels over loaded with work. But I fall short of perfection and it scares me when I see myself for that. It scares me that I am 23 and still "lost" in my own insecurity.

The anger that I've expressed in the past is no longer with me. Now I see clearer, but not the BIG picture. I find it hard to see that picture. I tend to focus on small details which only frame the story but do not define the book. I'm stressed out beyond natural means -- like a bomb shelter in middle earth. I try to relax but something happens in my mind when I think that I am not living up to the expectations of others. And that is why I took a medal from my necklace last night and whipped my wrists with it. Because I do not know how to keep everything safe and in control.

I hate it when the shit hits the fan. Because when the shit hits the fan - people runaway and I don't want to be alone. All that I want is to be respected and seen as an individual with a great flare for fun and a deep concern for the human condition. Sometimes I just feel like "The Fool" when I'm out and about. Some people find me to be quite odd, while others find me to be the life of the party. Some would call me smart and intellectual while others would call me ignorant, daft and irresponsible. But the question is - how do I define myself?. Why wont I stand up anymore ?. Why can't I just act - why is it so hard to be a warrior for peace in a radical world. Why is it so hard to be myself around those that I love the most. Why do I feel judged and held constantly accountable for my thoughts and words - why can't free thought and jibber jabbre be legal in the court room?.

My real confession here is that I enjoy the darkness for it keeps me in touch with my defense mechanisms. True darkness is my worst fear of all. Being alone, unloved and betrayed; judged and made fun of. That is the darkness that I listen to from the other room. I listen because I need to make sure I know the plan before it effects me, so that I can avoid the pain of losing true happiness. And all that I ask for is for somebody to simply understand this, and not judge me for this, and to support me through the process of getting out of this mind frame.

I'd wake up only I'm not asleep.

I'd try to kiss you, but you just turn your cheek
I'd say I love you but you walk out the door.
Id try and be there for you, but you seem not to need me.
Failure to communicate this sends me into doubt.
Sometimes I worry that I'm not "the one".
Sometimes I fear that you will lose "love".
When I need a friend I need you.
When you need a friend, you have me.
Yet times like now, I feel as though I'm just standing in your way.
Days like today, I'm just a failure and you're a shining star.
Always a slave and never an equal, I look inside myself to see this evil.
Such doubt of my own confidence, such sacrifice of my own will.
Learning how to provide love is easy, but learning self love takes skill.
I love you, I have love to give you. Sometimes I feel as though you dont want to talk to me.
Are you pretending to sleep.
Do you wake as I drift out the door on mornings?.
Am I even special anymore . . .
Do I do it?

Heart of Pain

Please heal me of the fear

please take my pain.

please stop of the worry

before it goes too far.

Just don't leave me in the cold.

Because I've been down for so long.

I can't seem to look up.

I'm used to this.

I have love to give.

Please dont use it.

I have care to give, dont abuse me.

My reactions are killing us.

I'm failing to do it right.

I fear I fear I fear I fear

It seems as though it's all I do.

I worry, and I worry, and I worry.

I can't stand up on my own.

Am I so wrong to ask for a little help?

Am I wrong to say

Please don't look at other men that way ?

Am I so vile to feel

Please honey take the wheel.

Guide us to the sunshine

I'm so tired, I can barely see.

My eyes are full of sand tears.

Ones that can't talk, but they exist.

My heart is full of pain,

All I long for is to be loved, held and adored.

I pray for success, but I can't find it.

I've been on my knees for so long.

Pull me up from this gutter . . .

only I can do that.

Why do I feel so sad again?.

I worry that I'm not your joy

I fear that you'll move away

I swear I didnt mean it to come out that way

But god I love you, since I met you

all I wanted to do was heal your pain --

And now I'm silent in my own .

CHRISTMAS IS ABOUT JESUS CHRIST MICHAEL !!!!!

Although it's not Christmas season anymore, I just found this video on Youtube.com and I had to post it because it's fucking hillarious !

Untitled

These lies

This shame

My body

your frame

Years pass

I lie

Your vision

My life

Time lands

in your hand

my hands

remain empty

waiting for mine

this time

my time

when its fine

With you

not me

let them see

the real me

cast my wish

into the sea

cast my heart

out to thee

find the thread

cut the strings

after all

were all one being

Exsistence is equal

my secrets are sacred

yet my being suffers

So let it be written

So let these words make it done.

Something to write about ....

"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." -Ghandi

A Project In Progress ...................

(Thoughts to examine)

"Christ outside of The Christian Church"
"Relationships based on Christs teaching"
"Christianity today"
"The baseline message of Jesus Christ"
"Other Religious examinations of The Christ"
"Philosophy VS. Control; Man's manipulation of Christs Teachings"
"Love thy Neighbor ... Judgement; Laws and human rights within Christs Teachings"
"Taking Back The Church : The end of ideal and the true practice of Christianity"

Until Further Notice

Hey everyone, I'm posting this to let you know that due to work related issues of being online too much at work, I will not be able to post during my free time at work. I don't have my own lap top and I'm about to lose my job if I do anything more online around here. So - - - until further notice or a weekend, I'll try my best to keep posting. And believe me, I'll fill you in on the full story (the mother fuckers I work for) . . .

-BD

March.

Happy New Year everybody !, This will mark my first post for 2008. I've got some high hopes out for 2008. It seems as though every year we hold high hopes for the new year; only to find out that they don't come true. One of the lessons that I am carrying from 2007 into the new year is that we have to create our own successful dreams. Action over idea would be the mantra that comes to my mind when I think about the process. We hold more power in our state of mind than in anything else. The birth of success begins within "Yes, and", this is a rule that I learned in my improv 1 class last year. The rule applies to a scene in which a player presents a situation, scenario or idea. As the fellow actor in the "scene", you are required to agree with with other players by agreeing to the situation and adding to it. So the same can be said for our goals in life.

Ideas and goals need follow up in order to be documented and created. My personal stance upon following up with anything in my life needs a lot of work. I put things off until the last minute and often times that leaves me standing at station "A" forever, I need to head over to station "B" and hopefully make it to "Z" by 2009. So what's the plan stan ?. No clue, but it should start with making a proper change toward happiness. I've been thinking about leaving my job now for a while and every day I feel stronger about the idea of getting out of the office for good. However there are a few things that I need to do before I depart. I will not leave this place before I have a new job lined up behind this one. I'm looking for an upgrade, something that has benefits as well. $12-15 per hourly wage would be great. I'll need full time in order to pay the bills and save a buck. I'll also need to know what I am doing, selling travel is not my thing - I've never been outside of the USA and frankly I've been made fun of for it in the office. I do not like my job anymore and it's becoming toxic to my happiness.

If I stay here beyond March and continue to put up with the daily bullshit that I deal with, I can honestly say that I will lose it. I no longer have respect for the people that I work for and with. These people have treated me like shit for the past year, with the exception of my friend who got me the job and my previous boss Mar***. I understand that this post has taken a turn for the worst, but something has happened within the last five minutes which I cannot fight over anymore. A moment of belittlement between a co worker and myself. Sometimes I simply want to smack that cunt. The main thing that I can say about working here is that I learned more about myself than I ever thought. I learned about my strengths and weaknesses. I proved to myself that I can "stick it out" through all of my own self doubt. I will rise above this job. If I can sic things out until March, I will resign and move forward and on from this torture.