Past Transgressions

I thought I was open-minded.

Well, I suppose we all do, in a way. We assume that because our minds are more open than the ones around us that we’re the smart ones, we’re the chosen, we’re the intellectual and cultural pariahs; nope, it just means we’re not quite as dumb as everyone else in our little village.

As a gay man, I’ve always felt an affinity to transgendered people, despite having absolutely no knowledge or personal experience with their plight. It was like… all of humanity is in a room, and straight heternormative types are over there taking up most of the center of the room, I’m here hanging by the chips and dip, and the transgendered peeps are over in the opposite corner. But this meant, to me, that we had a bond for both being outcast, albeit different kinds of outcasts. It made me a brother, someone who by all rights and means would fight for them against an imposing majority. (more…)

Delicious Ambigrambiguity

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.”
― Gilda Radner

I love ambigrams. I love calligraphy in general, really, but ambigrams add that extra layer to the words that can sometimes simply surprise you. I never fancied myself an artist—though I did draw that portrait of my cat over to the right using Procreate for iPad—but I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I have nice handwriting (well, not “nice” as in pristinely legible, but more like… “interestingly complex”) so what better way to express myself than through the written word. Fairly literally, now that I think about it. (more…)

Choosing Joy

I’ve been listening to a lot of dance music lately.

In general, my music philosophy has been that the music I listen to needed to be important, have relevence, make me acknowledge my feelings. My favorite album, for these reasons and more, has been unchanged since 1998 when Tori Amos released From The Choirgirl Hotel. It brings me to that place where I can tune into the darker side of myself, relating my own experiences to the music and allow it to take me over. It’s always been important to me to be able to feel a range of emotions; I mean really feel them. In order to move past anger, or sadness, or whatever feeling I have, I would listen to a song or album that intensified that emotion on repeat until I just didn’t want to feel it anymore, and could let it go. (more…)

Happy Fucking New Year

I really dislike New Year’s Eve. With just under two hours before the clock tolls midnight here in California, allow me to tell you why.

When you think about it, it’s all just a farce. People will try and spin New Year’s as a chance for change, to allow the tide in so it can wash all the regretful decisions, hurtful actions, and nasty habits from your life, allowing you a soft, sandy smooth beach to start over with. But, in case you were unaware, the tide comes in every single day, and tomorrow is as much of a new day as today was yesterday. (more…)

Finding Boyfriendship

I know I’m not the only one that feels a little lost around the holidays. The season tends to focus on family, and love, and togetherness, and acceptance, and for anyone who doesn’t have one or more of those things, the have-nots tend to overshadow the haves, despite all the “be grateful” crap thrown around the airwaves. I’ll say that I am blessed with an amazing family that I absolutely adore, and loves and supports me unconditionally. However, it’s difficult not to think about the fact that, as my cousins get married and have children and my aunts and uncles and parents age into retirement, I’ve been single for a dozen or so years at this point with no end in sight. Being single in and of itself isn’t the problem, really, because I am a staunch believer in the idea that one must be comfortable within his own skin before a relationship with anyone else is a viable reality, but it’s gotten to the point where my “own skin” needs a bit of darning where it’s been well-worn. (more…)

A Life Yet Lived

I’m at a crossroads, I suppose you could say. That point in every man’s life when he looks at where he is, what he’s done, where he’s headed, and double checks within himself that all the choices, decisions, endeavors, relationships, advice taken, advice ignored, and each step along the way was the right thing to do at the time. I’m 30 now; shit’s gettin’ real. (more…)

Thank You, I Do Realize It’s Not 1997 Anymore

For the past two years, I’ve worn an insulin pump as part of my diabetes management. As wonderful a tool it can be, I’m finding the negative side effects affect mostly my social life. Guys, whether they be new friends or potentially more, have often made jokes about it, thinking that I still use a pager and am not hep to the smartphone age. Though, every once in a while, someone thinks I’m a doctor, which is initially flattering but then leaves me reeking of unfulfilled potential. But more often than not, the jokes are either allusions to drug deals or snobby critiques of my retro choices in personal electronics.

Attempting to show that diabetes can be sexy. Or, at least isn’t completely unsexy.


Proudish To Be An American, Where At Least I Think I’m Somewhat Free

I was born to two San Franciscan natives 29.93 years ago in suburby Walnut Creek, California. I grew up in California, and with the exception of a minor three-month stint in Seattle when I was 21, I haven’t lived anywhere else. So I realize this puts me in a bubble, a place where I can see what’s happening around me, if I choose to, all the while protected from some of the harsher realities of the world. (more…)

Moving Forward

You know, it’s kinda funny.

When I was younger, I always felt out of my age. My mind and soul, as pretentious as this may sound, were larger than my body, requiring more elbow room for anecdotes not yet experienced and emotional roller coasters yet to begin. When I was ten, I felt thirteen. When I was thirteen, I felt sixteen. When I was sixteen, I felt nineteen. When I was nineteen, I felt twenty-five. When I was twenty-five, I felt thirty. And now, just shy of a dozen weeks before my thirtieth birthday, I feel… ancient.

No, wait… that’s not really funny at all. (more…)