Ann Romney, I Will Have A Real Marriage Too (Just Not A Legal One)

Ann Romney spoke last night about her marriage to Republican presidential nominee Mitt Romney. About love.

She tells us that they do not have a "storybook marriage" - they have a real marriage. As she put it  "those storybooks never seemed to have chapters called MS or breast cancer."

Mitt and Ann have a working partnership that has seen its ups and downs. They married despite being of different faiths, they have worked through severe medical issues, raised 5 beautiful sons and have weathered the difficult landscapes of both the business and political worlds where divorce, cheating and trading in spouses for younger models is the norm.

They have a marriage to be admired. It is exactly what I want to have, and what I will work hard to have. Derek and I may not have met at a high school dance, but we have a normal, everyday relationship. We both deposit our checks into the same account, I make sure they get paid each month on time - just like my mom did for my dad. Derek does more of the cooking, and I do the clean up on those nights. When he gets home late and tells me he's hungry, I either start cooking or start suggesting a run to McDonald's. When I get home late, he does the same for me.

Ann and Mitt married while in college. Derek is in school right now, adding an extra layer of time commitment to his schedule even as our wedding is around the corner. Mitt has stood by his wife during difficult heath crises (unlike John Edwards.) I have the responsibility to stand by Derek as he underwent gallbladder removal, as he goes to endless doctor visits in an attempt to figure out what else is wrong with his digestive system. No, that's not the same as MS or cancer but if either of those things come up, God forbid, I will be by his side.

I laugh at his jokes, and he laughs at mine (even if they aren't that funny sometimes) He drives whenever we go places 90% of the time because he knows I don't like to drive. I introduce him to new music so he has more than Janet Jackson in his car. When we have free time together we go to the mall or the farmers market or the movies or the club; or we sit at home on a Saturday night watching Bio's seemingly never ending run of ghost shows.

I love this man as much or more than myself. I work hard to make sure our relationship works. I stand by him in his times of need. And I am certain the reverse is true as well.

I don't really know Ann Romney's stance on my relationship. Her husband currently doesn't think I should be able to have the same type she does. She doesn't know me and I don't know her. I would never presume to suggest that her relationship is any less than what she claims - a real marriage.

Why can't I have a real marriage? When I sent out invitations to my wedding, I wanted to invite people to my "illegal wedding" but decided not to be glib. Because, whether it's legal or recognized by any governing entity, I WILL HAVE A REAL MARRIAGE. He will be my husband, not (just) my friend/roommate/buddy.

Because a real marriage is not a piece of paper. That piece of paper is a symbol, the rings are a symbol, the ceremony (like every other sacrament) is a symbol - an outward sign of an inward commitment. When I stand before God and these witnesses and make my vows, I will be married in the sight of God and these witnesses. The fact that I legally cannot call my marriage the thing that it is, does not make it less true. The fact that I know people will refuse to call it a marriage, does not make it less true.

Ann Romney, your marriage is a model I want to emulate. Will you tell your husband, should he become president, to let me do so legally?

One Year Ago, Today...

...I met up with a guy I had talked to for a little bit online. I didn't know a lot about him, except his first name, that he loved Janet Jackson, black boxer-briefs and going to clubs, and that he looked really cute in his pictures.

Did I know then that I would go on a date with him the next Saturday, and not make it home until Monday morning?

Did I know then he made amazing Fettuccine Alfredo?

Did I know then we would get into a major fight about two months later?

Did I know then he was the greatest kisser I've ever known?

Did I know then he move in and make my life richer and fuller for it?

Did I know then he would end up getting a better job, thanks in part to a friend of mine?

Did I know then there would but rough spots when we couldn't see eye-to-eye?

Did I know then he was the only man I could love?

No. I didn't know anything yet. I dove in, head first and for once in my life I didn't regret it. Now we are engaged and ready to commit to a lifetime of love, craziness and companionship.

Thank you, sexykins. You made my world a better place. I love you.

What Had Happened Was... (Or; Why You Didn't Get A Blog Post Yesterday)

People of teh Internets, listen up! I have not forgotten you, I know my new found personal life has kept me from being as prolific as usual, but it has resulted in an epic tale I must relay.

Yesterday, I slept in really late like one does on a day off with nothing planned. I awoke, watched some Alexa Chung and checked my Facebook. My boyfriend was supposed to be working from six to four, so I was surprised to see he was Facebooking at eleven in the morning.

I texted to find out what's up. I knew his job at a local warehouse had been sending people home early (without pay!) and was worried it was happening again. My phone was acting all hinky, not letting the text go so I turned it off and back on. I received a bunch of texts from all hours of the morning, my phone had been not getting the texts for hours. My sexykins had texted me twice, I never got either.

He had been sent home early, and since a friend had suggested applying at his workplace I checked out the website. I downloaded the application, printed it and some directions from the BF's house and called him to see if he wanted to go apply. The position was in the food service area at a retirement community which shares it's name with a local college. This is important.

I see that I have about three hours before the Human Resources office closes, so I dress and get in my car. It's a 40 minute drive to my sexykins place, so I exceed the speed limit almost every time I head over there. This time was no exception.

The exception was the police officer that started following me. I noticed him, noticed the 20 MPH difference between the limit and my speedometer and slowed down. Too late, the red and blue start flashing and I'm sitting on the side of 81 with a $109 ticket in my hand. What a waste of ten minutes!

So I follow posted traffic laws and make it to my destination without any further incident. We have about two hours to get the application filled out and get started on the Google Earth directions to M------ Village. The boyfriend thinks he knows a faster way, so I follow his directions. We arrive in just twenty minutes at Bethany Village. Not the same place!

I try to maintain my composure and pull out my directions. If we get to route 15 we can follow the directions I printed and continue on our path. Only twenty minutes wasted, we still have over an hour to get there. We hop on 15 North, only to realize very quickly that we must be past the exit on the Google map. I get off 15 and discover that the exit to get on 15 South is backed up due to traffic. Shit! BF knows a round about way to get on 15 further down, so we head out again.

We don't get too far when a train crossing stops us dead. By this time I have some Marianne Faithfull tunes on to quell the frustrations and I'm singing along. I am trying to breath slowing and not freak out about the delay when THE FUCKING TRAIN STOPS! OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT THE FUCK ELSE CAN GO WRONG?

Not the sort of question should ask on a day like this. We make a U-turn and head further down the road. We hit a few traffic lights, and at one of the my car stalls out. WHAT THE FUCK? I breath in, turn the car off. I give it a little pat on the dashboard, murmur something about how nice this car is to me and turn it back on. It roars to life. JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL!

We finally make it on 15 and get off on the exit the directions tell us. We drive for a while and realize the next road listed isn't anywhere to be found. I stop at a Sheetz and wait as the manager listens to some old dude yammer on about some complaint that didn't make any sense. Finally I get a chance to ask him if he knows how to get to M------- Village. He gives me fairly clear directions and we head out.

We thought we found the road from the Google directions and veer off to try to follow it. It's wrong, so we head back to the Sheetz dude's directions. We make it to where there were supposed to be signs for M------- Village and instead find signs for M------- COLLEGE! Sweet baby Jesus, can this day get any worse?

By this point we had reached the time when the HR office closed for the day. But I was not about to give up! There had to be a receptionist, a head nurse, a frakkin' janitor we could give the application to. We drove back down the last road that we had found that was still on the printed directions. A sign on the side of the road mentioned a pumpkin festival hosted by the retirement community. I assumed that the Village must be around somewhere.

We pull onto the road by the sign and quickly find arrows directing us to the Village. We follow the arrows, only to discover that "Village" is not just a name. This retirement community is basically a giant development full of small houses and twisting roads. At it's heart is a massive hospital-style building. We assume this is where the HR office would be found.

But which of it's SEVEN entrances would it be found near. We try the nearest one. Sweet action! It has a sign directing us to Human Resources. We follow the arrow to... a series of unmarked, locked doors. Never mind, we knew no one would be in HR this late. The office had been closed for about twenty-five minutes by this point. We try each entrance in succession. One lead to a physical rehab center, one seemed like residential areas. The next took us to a closed door and an empty hallway. Finally, on the sixth entrance we find a cafeteria, and one of the staff was kind enough to lead us to the final entrance where a receptionist happily accept my boyfriend's application.

Let's hope the interview process isn't as exhausting.

Libraries: The Medicine Chest of the Soul

The title of this post comes from an inscription from the ancient library at Thebes. Yes, I just got high-brow on your asses. It literally just happened. I also named dropped Marie de France during my sermon on Sunday. You would be forgiven for thinking I went to college, I can sound really learned sometimes...

I love libraries. Perhaps this comes as news to you, someone who posts Britney Spears videos doesn't seem like the type to get all Marion The Librarian on y'all. I'm a multi-faceted motherfucker. When I was 14 I walked two miles each way to go to the library a couple of times.

There is something magical about an entire room full of books on just about any subject you can think of, all for your enjoyment. The library I grew up with in Blain, PA was tiny, it was contained in an old house and the books fit in the dining and living rooms, with the checkout area, card catalog (remember those?) and magazine rack in the kitchen. With working water and everything!

I devoured Nancy Drew mysteries as youngster, then moved on to Agatha Christie novels and celebrity biographies as a teen. I read a Barbra Striesand bio when I was 13 or 14 and fell in love with fabulousness right then. Dolly Parton, Barbara Mandrell and Reba followed right after, I didn't have a chance in hell of being straight. I listened to Pride & Prejudice on audio book a million times while mowing grass, I heard the brilliant words of Jane Austen before I even read them.

I was 16 when we moved to Potter County. Even more isolated from big city influences, the mysteries of Elizabeth Peters and Lillian Jackson Braun were the link between the world I left behind and the one I had entered. A lot changed in a few months - new house, new neighbors, new family circle and no father. I read a lot, devouring whole books in a day or two. But the library in Coudersport was bigger, it had tons of audiobooks, movies and CDs besides my paper and hardback friends. There were mainstream artists like Madonna and Britney Spears as well as a Gershwin collection that I borrowed repeatedly, and my sisters loved the audiobooks. They even had favorite narrators, and they would try titles they never would have based on the reader.

I also developed an interest in young adult fantasy novels, trying out Artimis Fowl and Harry Potter as well as more adult series like the Acorna and Xanth novels. And the library also had a slew of Star Wars and Star Trek novels and I ran right through the entire collection.

I've been back in Harrisburg for over five years, and my library usage is more sporadic. For one thing, my reading time is more limited. I usually only read on my lunch break at work and maybe a couple of minutes before bed. While my trips to the library as a child and into my teens involved canvas bags full of reading material, enough to keep me occupied for two weeks, now I'm lucky to finish a book in two weeks. Unless it's really good, or really short.

But I get into a groove every now and again, going every two weeks for months on end. I read a lot more non-fiction. A history of Nancy Drew here, a C.S. Lewis religious volume there, Billie Holiday's autobiography, a little of this and a little of that. I also love looking through the audio CDs, they often have boxed sets I could never afford as well as a collection of the 33 1/3 series books packed with the CD. I often find newer indie albums, as well as regular pop and rock CDs, so I can try before I purchase. I'm sampling recent efforts by Morrissey and Sara Watkins right now.

The East Shore Area Library also has a fantastic graphic novel section. I'm not a huge fan of graphic novels and comics, but I've found some really interesting titles that appeal to those outside the traditional comic fan base. I reviewed Skim on the blog a while back, that came from the library. I also read a graphic novel based on The Merchant Of Venice.

I stopped into the library on Monday in search of two books. The first, I read about in an ad the library had placed in The Central Voice. They had a display of LGBT books in honor of Harrisburg's Pride Fest later this month, and one in particular stood out. My Diva: 65 Gay Men On The Women Who Inspire Them looks like my kind of fabulous. I picked it up, and started reading it on Tuesday at work. It's a quick read, each Diva story is only a few pages. I will be sure to post a full review when I finish.

The other book I stopped in for wasn't available. I wanted to read fellow Junior-phile Sam's short story in Best Gay Love Stories 2010, but there wasn't one in the system. So I stopped at Borders and pick it up there. (Should've ordered on Amazon and saved five bucks!) When I finish My Diva, I can keep the gay train rolling! As if I could ever stop it...

I guess the moral to this story is that you should check out your library. Or do you already? If so, tell me what you've read/heard/seen lately that's good. I always want to add to my reading list...

Happy Earth Day!

Hello, fellow humans and English-translating humanoids! It's Earth Day, a holiday which has a lot in common with Christmas. Both days feature trees, discussions about wrappings and guilt trips. The only difference being the guilt trips are from Al Gore instead of the relatives that got the short end of the visitation stick.

But in all seriousness, I feel my inner Green Man rising forth and reminding of all the things I do right and wrong on regards to my Mama Earth. I do my bit, and here's how:

I recycle. Not just because I'd get a fine if I didn't, but because it's not really that difficult and it's a small thing. The trash collectors take cardboard, plastic, aluminum, glass and metal, that's a few extra minutes of sorting that is so worth it. Also, if you forget your re-usable bags at the grocery (like I often do) most grocery stores have plastic bag recycling bins, at least here in Central PA. Check out the supermarket near you. And if you have still-usable household items and clothes you no longer use, don't toss them in the garbage. Plenty of charities, like Salvation Army, Goodwill and local charity thrift stores will take them and turn them into cash to help fund food shelters, job placement programs and other community events. Some even pick up the items! This is a no-brainer, people. Doing good for the community and the environment? That's good karma right there.

I shop smart. Yeah, environmentally conscious products can cost more. But those energy efficient light bulbs save you money in more ways than you shell out initially. Your electric bill goes down, plus they tend to last much longer. I've been replacing my old style bulbs with the new ones as they burn out. And other times, it's not about buying something with a big ECO FRIENDLY sticker on it. Malt-O-Meal breakfast cereal use just bags, no boxes. That's a bunch of cardboard that doesn't need recycled because it never existed. And it's usually cheaper than the name brands. Also, purchase local produce. Not only is it fresher and tastier, it takes less fuel to transport and you help local farmers. Just take a second to think when you're shopping and you'll see lots of choices that are better for the planet.


I turn off the lights. Duh, it's so simple. Just turn off the TV when you're watching it, turn off the computer when you're not using it anymore, turn off the lights when you leave the room. It's so simple, yet I find a lot of people jacking up the electric bills and wasting energy out of sheer forgetfulness/laziness. Also, long showers should be saved for those days when you need that extra relaxation, if at all. Instead, get a massage, meditate or visit a park or library.

I use the web, not the post office. I have bills and statements sent to my email, and do a lot of bill-paying online. It's easier and faster, plus less paper wasted on envelopes and bills. I try not to buy magazines that have the same content I can find online, although photo spreads in Vanity Fair do look better in real life, not online.

But alas, I am not the king of all things Green. Here are the things I need help convincing myself to do:

I don't carpool. I just don't know anyone well enough that follows the same schedule and commutes the same path. If you do, I highly recommend it. Or take the bus/subway/train if the schedule fits your job (it doesn't here in the 'burg.)

I don't buy MP3 albums. I know they are often cheaper, don't waste any paper or plastic and I get the music instantly. I just have a strong attachment to the feeling of holding a CD booklet, looking at the cover art, liner photos, lyrics and reading all the fine print with producers, songwriters and session musicians. iTunes doesn't always include the composer information and never has the rest of that info. I can count on one hand the number of full albums I've downloaded, and most of them end up burned onto CD to play in the car anyway.

I rarely send e-cards. I know they are usually free, and can have music and movement. And no postage required! My problem is, I like the feeling of writing actual notes inside cards or even letters on stationary, and creating a personal item that someone can save. Or not, I don't really care. But I don't know if I can give that up. I do try to find recycled papers and cards to use.

So, what do you do help Mother Earth? Any tips I should be trying? Leave 'em in the comments!

Hot Topics: Santogold, "The Ramen Girl" & The Best Gift Ever?

There are a couple of interesting things I want to share with y'all, but they aren't quite interesting enough to deserve their own post. So just enjoy a smattering of Hot Topics:

Santogold's second Bud Light Lime jingle has been remixed, and it's a pretty sweet mix. Tepr is a Frenchman who has done remixes for Yelle, Kid Sister and The Teenagers, so he's got some decent hipster cred. Now he's added Santogold's "Lights Out" to his oeuvre, (he also remixed "Say Aha" for the Philly-born artist.) The original mix was a smooth surf-rock inspired new wave jam, the Tepr Emo mix features a fuzzed out keyboard tone and a heavy beat drum loop, creating a dance-floor-friendly slow jam. Listen and Download Here. Found via Elbo.ws (via Google Alerts.)

Now to some movie news, is it weird I'm a little interested in this new Brittany Murphy film, The Ramen Girl? After her character moves to Japan to be with her boyfriend, he dumps here. So she decides to become a ramen chef. Sounds exactly like this one time a guy dumped me! Except I wasn't in Japan and I decided to start tanning instead of cooking ramen. Otherwise, story of my life, y'all! Enjoy the trailer:

Found via Pop Candy.


And now for a little personal tidbit. I was going through pictures from this past holiday season, and found someone took a picture of me getting the most ridiculously amazing gift since my iPod. My Aunt Tina knows me so well, she knew I would love this:

Yes, that is a portrait of the always fabulous Madonna! I could not stop laughing, it is a truly ridiculous piece of art. And it is hanging proudly in my home.

These are for sale on the My DaVinci website, I'm kinda eying up the Kelly one, or the Brad Pitt. Mmm, Brad... Seriously, though, they have a Michael Maloney (from Clean House and Extreme Makeover Home Edition) I mean, he seems like a nice guy, but I don't know anyone other than his mom that would want his portrait hanging in their home. So random...

Give Thanks...

Here in the US of A, it's Thanksgiving. For everyone else, it's just Thursday. Either way, I hope you're having a great day!

Here are a few things I'm thankful for:

My family. They mean the world to me, even when we argue and fuss. They love me, I love them. It's as simple as that. I'm thankful for Saturday nights at Aunt Tina's, watching her latest Netflix rental. I'm thankful for A'melanie and Aunt Deb who always seem to send me an email when I need one. I'm thankful for my sisters and my mom, even though we bicker like a bunch of tiny children. I love you guys.

My church. You probably have no idea how much I needed a community full of love to accept me. Or maybe you do, a lot of you have been in the same places I have. But y'all have gone above and beyond, even asking me to lead a Bible study. It warms my heart to know you think I'm capable.

My job. Yeah, I bitch about it all the time. But I bring home a decent paycheck, and I'm damn good at my job. I'm respected and liked there.

My music. On those days I feel at loose ends, there is nothing more soul satisfying than opening my iTunes and choosing a fun dance song to get me moving or an acoustic ballad to make me wistful or a heavy rock song to get my blood pumping.

Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy your turkey (or tofurky. Or ham. Or lasagna. Or whatever...) and I'll see you on the flipside.

With Sympathy...

It's a horrible thing to lose someone. Unless you really are an island, Simon and/or Garfunkle, it will happen sooner or later, for you I really hope it's later. Unfortunately, death visits us all no matter how much blood you smear on your doorposts.

When I was sixteen, my father lost his battle with cancer. It remains the most awful time in my life, obviously it colors my life to this day. It's why I rarely cry at 'very special' episodes of sitcoms or at the heartbreaking separation of protagonist from a child/lover/chipmunk family at the movies. I'm not a cold-hearted bastard, quite the opposite. I just know the far greater pain in real life than in these fictional stories.

So when I heard the news that one of the employees at the main office of my employer had lost her son in a car accident, I felt for her. I don't know what it's like to lose a child, I hope I never do. But I know what it's like to lose a father, so I have an inkling of the level of pain one would experience. I knew I had to send a card, because it's the very least I could do. The very, very least.

Off to Walmart's card department I went, to buy two cards: one for me to send with a personal message and one for all my co-workers to sign. I usually enjoy picking cards for special occasions, but I prefer the funny ones. They don't make funny sympathy cards, for obvious reasons. There are lots of cards with verses by Helen Steiner Rice and some that just sound like HSR. I'm reading them and, despite Rice's own personal tragedies, there is very little that would help me get through the pain of losing someone. In fact, a lot of the cards were more painful to read than helpful. Don't tell someone to remember the good times, that hurts just as much as forgetting. Don't remind someone that they will see their loved one in heaven, that's too far away. Don't tell them God's holding them, because God is probably their least favorite person right now. To be honest, there are no words that make the pain less. It hurts like god-fucking-damned hell, it just does.

I think back to those dark days in the spring of 2000, when we got so many cards and flowers, and can't recall a single pre-printed message, good or bad. It's the names written inside, the scrawled "I'm praying for you" or "You are in my thoughts" that meant something. It's the only thing that carries you through; the support of friends, family, coworkers and people you barely knew.

So I got cards with simple messages. Because there are literally no words.

Clay Aiken Comes Out!

It's what all the blogs have been buzzing about, ever since Perez Hilton leaked it earlier today: Clay Aiken, American Idol season two runner up, is People's cover boy, with his baby and his less-than-surprising admission. Clay Aiken is gay.

Many have assumed as much, but Clay himself has bull doggedly defended his right to keep the sexual part of his life a secret. While it may seem ridiculous to many that anyone would stay in the closet in this day and age of increased tolerance, I totally understand his hesitancy.

It was only a year and a half ago that I came out to my sister and some of my close friends. I was scared of what God thought, which is something a southern Christian like Clay would be worried about too. So many anxious thoughts: "Am I already going to hell, just pumping that gas?" "Even I think guys are hot but don't ever act on it, can I still go to heaven?" "What if I pretend to like girls and get married and everything, and finally tell myself the truth after it's too late? That would suck!" It takes a lot of soul searching to reconcile my truth with God's truth, and I think that's something Clay Aiken probably did.

The thing is, people have been assuming that Clay knew all along that he was gay, since the world kind of had him pegged from day one. And maybe he did, I don't know. But everyone in my circle knew before I did, back when I thought I was confused. And just because someone loves the theatre, disco, designer clothes and hair color; hates sports and outdoorsy things; and generally acts gay, doesn't mean they know they are. Their family might know it, but they won't pressure them to come out until they know it too. After all, my family loves me whether I'm gay, straight or a hot tranny mess. And I hope Clay has those kinds of friends and family in his life. He's gonna need them.

Why I Love Fall...

Every third MySpace survey seems to ask "What is your favorite season?" and I always say "Fall!" Why? Well, let me tell you...

Fall is the time of year when you can curl up with a good book and a cup of hot cider or chocolate, while your hunky boyfriend wears half-zipped sweaters with nothing on underneath and bakes pumpkin-spice cookies. While the cookies cool off, the two of you take a walk in the sunny afternoon, leaves crunching under your feet as you laugh cause your scarf keeps tickling him when you kiss. In theory, this is what is great about fall.

In practice, none of that stuff has happened to me, so here is the real reasons I love fall:

FOOD! Besides the fresh pumpkin pies and apple-cranberry crisp that I always make for Thanksgiving, I also adore the local produce. "What?" you say, "Summer is the time to hit the farmer's market, not fall! Silly gay boy..." But in summer, do you have fresh pressed cider? What about huge apples and juicy pears, picked just hours before you arrived? And the beautiful pumpkins and gourds just waiting for you to take home and leave in a bowl to be decorative now, but you will really make into pumpkin pie later? Only you don't really, because seriously a can of Libby's is so much easier and smoother tasting? But the thought was there? Yeah, that's what I thought.

WEATHER! I hate to be hot, too bad I'm so smoking hawt that I raise the temperature of every room I'm in. Such a burden! But I'm not a big fan of freezing my nips off, either. So that leaves fall and spring weather to enjoy. But spring is so wet, and I can't wear canvas shoes for fear of soaked toes. Fall has the perfect temps, plus the gorgeous changing leaves in my favorite shades of orange, red and yellow. It's the only time of year I wish I was back in Potter County.

FASHION! (Put it all on me, don't you want to see these clothes on me?) Sorry, had a Montag Moment. I love fall because it's time for sweaters, sweater vests, light jackets, hoodies, scarves and hats. I hate shorts, I don't do ball caps and flip flops annoy me, so summer fashion is not my deal. And boots and heavy coats make my portly frame look even pudgier, so winter fashion is not for me, obvs! But fall is the time to throw a zip-up grey sweater over your polo and head out, or wrap a striped scarf around your neck for just a little warmth and a lot of style. And my wine-colored velveteen Dragonfly jacket with black hood (pictured at left) is fierceness personified. Ooh! I think I need this sweater right here.

So, that's why I love fall. Of course, if the opening scenario comes true, I'll like it even more...

"The Remainder Of My Dreams"

In the world of music, dreams get their moment in the lyrical sun, not as much as love but more than dairy products. "Dream On" is one of the few Aerosmith songs I love, Disney has the market cornered with shit like "A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes" and isn't every American Idol coronation song about dreams coming true? (Well, except "Inside Your Heaven," I have no idea what that is about, but it sounds dirty.)

We all have dreams. We all have goals, both impossible and attainable. But those who have given up, who no longer dream a little dream, those people make me sad. So, imagine the wheels that started turning when a box arrived at work yesterday.

This is a tiny box, just 7" x 11" x 4.5". Not nearly big enough to hold my dreams, but some sad stock room worker wrote "The Remainder Of My Dreams" on the side and mailed a scrub top to my store.

I understand the feeling of loss at working a crummy retail job instead of making your Broadway debut or becoming head chef at a 5-star restaurant. As a youth, I changed dream jobs like underwear. I wanted to be a fireman, then a pastor, then a missionary, then an actor, then a singer, then an author, then a director, then a fashion designer, then a bookstore owner. You won't find Assistant Manager listed there, that never entered my dreams.

But I still hold onto my dreams, I don't box them up and ship them postage due via UPS! I still want to start a family; to have six-pack abs; to write a novel; to write for Blender; to live in London; to sleep with Justin Timberlake; to be on Oprah discussing my novel, my love/hate relationship with Oxford commas, and sleeping with Justin. I doubt all of my dreams will come true, but a boy can still dream!

I'm sure I'm reading way too much into a note scrawled on the side of a cardboard box. Maybe so many of this person's dreams have come true, there is a only a tiny remainder. ("I already have twelve billion in savings, married a Backstreet Boy and just sold another screenplay. I just have to climb Everest and build a time machine, then all my dreams have come true.") Maybe it's a joke, one that I "had to be there" for. But it reminded me I still have a lot of dreams left to come true. Some day my prince will come, my ship will come in and I'll get a call from Oprah's people, but for now I'll just dream big.

Speaking of dreams, did I tell you I had one the other night where David Beckham wanted me to go down on him? And I turned him down, cause he has a wife and kids? Even in my dreams my morals get in the way! (He was fine as hell, though. As usual...)

From Frump To Fab In Under Four Years, Or; License To Thrill

I was a late bloomer, in more ways than one. I didn't get my driver's license until I was 21, I didn't come out of the closet (Well, officially. Everybody knew before I did...) until I was 23, I didn't go on a date until I was 24. Sad, right? Don't be sad for me, though. Everything in it's own time.

For example, I was reminded of just how much has changed for the better in the past four years. Besides getting a job that I excelled at, I learned how to be fabulous. Working out, eating just a little bit smarter and you drop fifty or so pounds. Realize that you can make people laugh, and you make more friends. Mix Goodwill finds and last-season looks from Marshall's and basics from Old Navy, Target or even (gasp!) Walmart with the occasional splurge (like a vest from Express or an amazing jacket by Dragonfly) and you have a look that makes salesgirls take note. Being fabulous is not as hard as it looks, but some people just have the extra something to pull it off effortlessly. Those people are me and Tyra Banks.

What prompted this strut down memory lane, this tale of my journey from Frump Boi to Fashion Star? Well, this:

This is what I looked like on my old Driver's License, in my jean jacket with a Family Guy pin on the lapel and in desperate need of a hair cut and better glasses. I tried, the sweater was from Target, my idea of the height of fashion at the time. It was better than the South Pole-wearing vanilla thug look I tried for a hot minute. A very sad little hot minute. Then I started watching "What Not To Wear" and paying attention to what made my body look good.

Today I had an interview with Barnes & Nobles, and of course I took care to wear the very best. My new Express sweater vest over a DKNY white button-down, black Old Navy pants and my Georgio Brutini shoes and black-and-white checkerboard socks. After the interview I had to renew my Driver's License. That is what fabulous looks like!

You can't really see any of the amazing clothes I'm wearing. But that's OK, you can see on my face just how fabulous I feel. And, kids, that's what fabulous is all about. If you feel it, you will rock your Walmart jeans and your SalvArm jacket. Your shoes may be worth five bucks, but you pair it with a million-dollar smile and you're golden. Oh, and my hair looks fierce! That helps...

Jesus Loves This Guy!

A few weeks ago I was at the Salvation Army Store, which is a place I love to shop. I don't always have the best luck in finding clothes there that my three essential categories: stylish, fit well and in good shape. But that doesn't stop me from checking it out. This time I stumbled across a green T-shirt by Local Celebrity, which you can find in the mall stores for like $20, for just $2.99. The color of my shirt is a bit brighter green, but it's the same screen-printed design as the one at left. I wore it to Aunt Tina's house the next Saturday for her Independence Day picnic and the Linglestown fireworks. My cousin's fierce girlfriend Shannan popped in to watch the fireworks, she was among the many to comment on my hot new sartorial acquisition. Her comment though, though I know was in jest, was thought provoking: "But I thought Jesus hated gays?"

Does Jesus hate gays? Certain churches certainly have made headlines by asserting that claim, and I'm not convinced that many Christians don't believe it, too. I was never convinced that it was true, though. "God is Love" it says in the first Book Of John. Even if gay sex is a sin, even if that act of being romantically interested a member of the same sex is a sin, that doesn't stop God from loving me. It had taken me a long time to feel comfortable with accepting the dual personalities that, at first blush, appear to battle within me. Was I a Christian, and a gay man? Is such a thing possible?

It wasn't until I read a book called The Unauthorized Guide To Sex And The Church that I realized that it was both possible and is what I am. In the book, author Carmen Renee Berry explores all sides of the issues surrounding sex; hetero, homo, rape, abortion and a host of other issues that Christian struggle with. In her chapter on "Same-Sex Sex" she goes over the differing opinions on what the verses of the Bible mean in relation to homosexuality. In addition to the traditional interpretations of biblical passages, a more in depth look reveals the original intent. These opinions were ones never offered to me in my churches growing up. For example, the sin of Sodom is not homosexuality, it's rape and inhospitality. The verses from Leviticus prohibiting laying down "with a man as you would a woman" come from the same pre-Christian laws that don't allow mixed fabrics and shellfish. The "list of wickedness" from 1 Corinthians that include homosexual activities could not refer to monogamous committed relationships, because such a thing didn't exist in ancient time, so a word for them doesn't even exist in Greek. I know, you may think I'm bending scripture to justify myself, but if you just look at it with fresh eyes; not eyes clouded by years of being told what is right and what isn't based on prejudiced readings; you may find it, too.

Anyway, finally understanding that I am, as Degarmo & Key once sang, accepted by the one that matters most, I was in search of a church who would accept me the same way. I talked to my therapist, she recommended a church that is also mention the Unauthorized Guide, the Metropolitan Christian Church of the Spirit. Which is why Shannan's comment was as timely as it was thought provoking, I had decided to attend Sunday morning services the next day, for the first time in probably four or five years. It was a small crowd, since many were on camping trips and vacations for the holiday weekend. But the pastor welcomed me very warmly, she also asked a couple of those attending to introduce me to others as they came in. I don't remember any one's names, but that didn't matter. The worship was lively, the sermon was totally Bible-based, none of this new agey pop-psychology sermonizing that one might expect from a modern denomination. I didn't take communion, I wasn't sure I had really gotten myself right with God in my heart, even though I had convinced my head. I went again this morning, and really feel like I found a church that really meets me where I am. I'm really excited to finally water the plant in my soul that I had allowed to wither during my years of soul-searching. Perhaps I'm finally home?

Forgetting Father's Day

OK, so here is one of my rare "personal" posts, where I drop the snark for a second and forget about new Madonna videos and songs on shuffle. I know I made some of you cry when I wrote about my father on the eighth anniversary of his death, and again I don't write these things to garner sympathy, but I just feel the need to let it out, let some of my thoughts loose. That's why I blog.

Let's rewind a couple weeks: June 15th, 2008. I worked that day, which is nothing unusual, and about halfway through the workday I just got angry and annoyed. I didn't know why, for some stupid reason I didn't connect the dots that any dimwit could. It was Father Day, and guess who still doesn't have a daddy? I felt the lowest I had for a while, and it wasn't until a few days later someone else figured it out. It's like I tried to mentally guard myself, and it didn't work.

How does one cope with the loss of a father at age sixteen? It colors my entire being, whether that's right or wrong. At an age when most dads are teaching their sons how to drive, my father was thinner than I had ever seen him; wisps of his dark hair all the chemo had left him with; helplessly confined to a bed with a catheter. He had less than half his upper jaw, his right eye cover with a patch, the painkillers making him think Boy George had visited him in the hospital. Seeing the man who was my hero reduced to this was shattering.

A man at church asked me if I was angry with God for letting this happen, and I wasn't. I was full of self-righteous anger at those who I felt deserved the blame: those who had given a smoker's cancer to a man who never smoked. My mother, his mother, his coworkers, how dare they leave me fatherless? Maybe this anger was improperly directed, but it has kept me from picking up the habit. I can't say the same for my mother, who after many years away returned to that smoky addiction a few years after my dad passed.

But that is only a tiny wedge of the pie chart of ways his death affected me. I don't have a male figure in my life I can talk about the important things in my life. When I came out to my mother, one of her first reactions was "I don't know how your dad would have handled this" To be honest, neither do I. Aunt Laura said that she doesn't really know what his position on gays was, but she does know he loved his kids. And I know that, I really do know that. But I want to be able to tell him, ask him for advice, ask him what I should do. Should I stay at my job? Should I try for college? He worked full time and took classes, he would have advice on how to make that work. And relationships, I don't have many sane peoples to discuss them with, and no males at all. I was at the earliest moments of coming to terms with my sexuality when he was snatched from us, and I know for a fact his death pushed me into a two-plus year funk that created a strange sideways growth; a confused stagnation. Emotionally, intellectually and sexually, it took a long time for me to move past where I was at sixteen, there are still days when I feel like that same fat dumpy kid.

In closing, I didn't forget it was Father's Day, I stopped to see my Pappy after work for the very reason that it was Father's Day. I just forgot that Father's Day is not a day I will truly be happy on for many years, maybe not even once I have children of my own. One doesn't forget, even when you think you do.

One Week Of Hot Hot Heat

You may have noticed I only posted two blogs last week. There are two reasons for that, one is I worked 6 days in the last week, the other is our central air went out and it took them a week to get up back and working.

I grew up without air conditioning. I grew up in the country, in a big old German farmhouse with windows on every wall. It was quite simple to open them all and let a glorious cross breeze cool the house. So I never thought AC was a necessity until I moved to the 'burg. The pavement everywhere radiates heat and these "new" houses with no windows on the side walls and tiny little windows with walls between them preventing a breeze from flowing through the house. Plus, I've been using it for four years now, so I've gotten spoiled.

Of course, the central air in my apartment had to got out right before the heat wave that started on the 30th, so it was the most sweltering time for it. They couldn't make it out to fix it until the following Monday, and when they came (four hours late, naturally) they couldn't fix it. They came back next day, still no luck. Rescheduled for Friday to replace the whole darn thing, finally air again! But I went a whole week without wanting to even sit in my house for more than ten minutes, let alone sit in front of the computer and think. So I managed to post the two new videos that came out last Monday and spent the rest of the week at the movies, shopping and working.

I didn't spend much, I just browsed Borders, Target, Walmart and Salvation Army Store, played Mario Kart for Wii at Best Buy, saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull at the theatre (ending was a bit much, but I enjoyed it anyway) hit the Colonial Park Diner, Arby's, Tonino's Pizza and Sheetz for food and chilled (literally) at A'Melanie's pad playing Guitar Hero (finally made it through about four songs with out crashing! Holla!) and Kareoke Revolution. So I had a lovely weekend avoiding the heat before working all week. Fun!

But now the cool has been reborn like a Miles Davis LP and I'm back to blogging on a regular basis, I hope.

Today At B&N...

I stopped at Barnes & Nobles this afternoon to check up on an application I had put in there a few weeks ago. The manager of the new B&N at the Harrisburg East Mall was the one I happened to ask, and she remembered my application! Which is very cool, she said they would probably start interveiws in June or so. Cross your fingers for me, I would love to work at a bookstore, that would be the ideal retail job for me!
But that's not the thing that's wriggling around in my mind. Also while I was there, I picked up a couple of books, one very interesting one that I may blog about later. I was standing in line, and a woman joins the line behind me. I just glanced over at her book, and it's a novel by Ted Dekker. My sister Abby loves that author, so I said so. She told me she thought it looked suspenseful, I told her the ones I'd read were. She told me she had finished her book and was out grabbing lunch, so she needed a new one. We spoke for a couple moments longer about Borders Rewards vs B&N's club thingy.
It was just a simple conversation, but I don't conversate with strangers that often. Well, I do sometimes. I do occasionally mention CDs I like, compliment cute shoes or hair, that sort of thing when I'm out and about. I don't do it all the time, but I like it when strangers compliment my hair, rings or coat, which they do, so I like to give a shout out to funky hairdos when I see them. But never to cute guys! I have no game with dudes, I can compliment a chick without thinking, but I see a hot guy and all I can do is think "Must not stare" and try to avoid them. I don't know how to change that, I really wish I could though. How many possible dates have I passed up by being so stupid? Well, not that many I'm sure, but if it's been even one I'm seriously bummed.