Forever Walking

So, in place of a complete and angsty entry, I think I'm going to fill this post with a ton of little things that have been on my mind. Marvel at my ability to be compact!

What can I say? I can't help it. But I think I might keep this one for a while. Sure, I liked the templates with the pretty pictures and the professional layouts, but I think this simple-but-loud design captures the very essense of me.


This comes from Sassy Britches over at Well okay, Sassy Britches (love that title!). I'm extremely honored that someone's taken a liking to me and these words I water my potted plant with. I guess I'm likable; Sassy definitely is. :)



But I'm not sure I can accept this. :( I'm still pretty new to this official "blogging" thing, and don't know 15 blogs period, much less 15 newly-discovered blogs. I'll list the blogs I know. It's ok if I'm disqualified...I'll just hide the tears.

Wow...just two...I need to get out more...:( Well, I guess Sassy could make three, but I'm not sure I can nominate the person who nominated me...

Oh well, these two bloggers are very deserving. Katie's blog is so lovely (and she's so lovable), that I'm sure she's been nominated for this award multiple times. And Michael leaves me really nice comments (complete with hilariously accurate analogies). His blog goes over my head sports-wise but I still read it, which in itself is an accomplishment. He seems like one of those straight guy friends I just learned how to have.



Well, there you go. I watched Grey Gardens last night, and it made me cry. Hardcore. Then I watched it with my roommate Erin again this afternoon, and I cried again. That's just sad.

I don't usually like things that are engineered to make you cry. This is usually why I can't strand Extreme Home Makeover and avoid it like the plague. But when cheap emotional ploys are covered up with expert storytelling and superb acting performances, you can forgive it.

This is the case with Grey Gardens. I'm not about to summarize this film (Just hit up Wikipedia if you don't know the story of these two women and their once fabulous lives and East Hampton home), but to say it touched me is an understatement. Sure, the movie isn't perfect, and some would say there are a few holes in the plot (I would disagree), but the writing is top-notch, and the performances are even better. Drew Barrymore is especially amazing in this film. I mean, geez, I've always loved Drew; but this "serious" role is so unlike anything she's ever done that the fact that she's so amazingly convincing as Little Edie is just all the more spectacular. In Grey Gardens, Drew steps out of the romantic-comedy starlet label and proves herself as an actress to be reckoned with. Jessica Lange gives a great performance as well as Big Edie, but make no mistake: this movie belongs to Drew.

And there's just something so tragically inspiring about Little Edie. Little Edie may have been just a tiny bit nuts, and sure it was her own fear and sense of duty to her mother that kept her in that house and away from pursuing her dreams. Some would even say that Little Edie really wasn't all that talented (and they'd be right). But she had this dream, this sense of worth in herself. She had this thing to hold on to even as her own fear kept her sequestered, and even as her once fabulous life literally fell apart around her. When she gets her moment in the end, her tiny moment...and she seizes it and embraces it and wallows in its warmth, Drew Barrymore captures this moment so completely that you just can't help getting emotional and, at least in my case, bawling your eyes out.


Warning: this might not be safe for work:



(Wow, that wasn't very compact, was it?)

It's about time I give one of these writing prompts from Twenty Something Writers (awesome site) a try. Actually, correction:

It's about time I give one of these writing prompts a try and actually post the entry.

Truthfully, I did the last prompt they put up -- something along the lines of "if you could go back in time and change something, when would you go and what would you change?" And what was originally meant to be a two paragraph response became this emotional drivel spanning several pages about a childhood friend of mine. I'll post that eventually, but in its current state it's a stylistic monstrosity, and I want to edit it because I think it could be one of those good things that I write in my life.

Anyway, to this latest prompt, which actually made me a bit giddy:

Who was your favorite cartoon charachter as a child? No holding back, admit it! Did you have a lot of collector’s items (stuffed animals, bed sheets, figurines, etc) of them? Are they worth any money currently?

 Ok, here we go, I'll be honest. It's not like anyone will be all that surprised anyway:

Shocking right? I know...

I was so in total, complete love with Sailor Moon as a kid. It was also a love my mother encouraged, because it was the only thing that would wake me up in the mornings for school (you see, SM only came on early mornings during the weekdays. I would actually wake up earlier than my mother to catch it). It took everything I loved about Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers -- the whole "group of innocent youths suddenly given the power and responsibility to protect the world" thing -- and took it to the next level: making it a cartoon series centered around angsty teenage girls, glitter and cute costumes! Everything the burgeoning gay boy in me needed!

(Not to mention, Dorian is THE sexiest cartoon hunk. Ever. Period. End. Of. Discussion.)

But more than that, it was the greatest escape. Just like Power Rangers, Sailor Moon was a show that catered to the kids that just wanted to feel powerful and important in a word that made the decisions for them. These five girls weren't super heroes in the traditional sense. They weren't born with their super powers. They didn't get their powers in a freak accident and thus were forever marked by them. They were normal kids with normal problems, and normal hobbies, and normal crushes. But, when the world was in trouble, they could transform into something great, something that the world needed.

As a kid, it was the greatest thing to escape into that.

(oh, and I was also Sailor Jupiter) 

(She was the tallest girl in her class, loved to cook, and was the least afraid of getting in some bad dude's face. Fuck yes)

And if I could meet them...I'd steal Sailor Moon's transformation pen. Instead of the pain of getting dressed and keeping a wardrobe every day, I'd love to be able to just call out what I wanted to look like that day (sexy news reporter!), twirl around gracefully amongst a spray of stars and glitter, and voila!

So, I'm logging on to Facebook today, minding my own freakin' business, when my Feed visually assaults me with shirtless pics of a certain friend of mine at an unknown beach. Needless to say, in my current single state they were the last pics I ever wanted to see. No, actually, you can't possibly understand what these pics did to my goody bits, because you haven't seen them. So I will give you a taste of them (the pics, not my goodies. THOSE stay in the jar...honest). Now, out of respect for this friend I won't give his name or post the actual pic of him, but this following pic I stumbled upon comes pretty close to how his mostly-naked body looked on the beach:

Now, hopefully you guys understand why I was so hot and...ummm, bothered.

But I'm not here to vent my sexual frustrations (ok, maybe partially). Believe it or not, I actually have a deeper point.

After being borderline turned-on by my friend's pics, I proceeded to message him via Facebook Chat, you know -- to see how he was doing, and jokingly suggest that he think of his gay facebook friends and their fragile hearts before he posts more pics of himself wet and shirtless. This friend, being the legitimately straight (DAMNIT) but awesome guy that he is, casually joked back. The conversation didn't last much longer past that.

Later that night, as I was pondering life's eternal purpose over a sink of dirty dishes, it suddenly hit me how much maturer I've gotten. You see, not too long ago, I would have seen that picture of my straight friend, joked flirtatiously with him, and read entirely too much into his joking back. This would have led to a few weeks of increased flirtation on my end, and complete neutrality on his...finally culminating in weeks worth of depression and exhaustion from reading into signals that weren't really there. Also, there would have been the risk of throwing away a casual, but still worthwhile friendship with someone.

But no, I flirted with a hot guy, accepted the fact that he was quite straight, and left it at that.

Go me. :)

You'd be surprised by how hard this is for some gay men. And it highlights some things I've learned:

1) Do not go after closeted men. Really, he may be hot and we may have something in common, but I've learned that if he's not out of the closet it's best to just stick to my own kind. Pursuing a closeted man may seem dangerous in a sexy way at first, but really it's just dramatic, and it says a lot about where the person is, in regards to a relationship. I, as a fabulous out-of-the-closet gay, am looking for the type of guy who is willing to give himself completely to the love I'm so willing to give, openly. Not gaudily. But still -- openly. I've learned enough from experience to know that I'm not going to get that from a guy a who can't be open, no matter how much we have in common outside of that pesky sexuality thing.

and...

2) I've learned to always be aware of the fact that straight men have egos. And, though they will deny it until they're blue in the balls, want to feel attractive. Some straight men are also so egotistical that, if they know they're in the presence of a homosexual male, they will go out of their way to confirm that this homo thinks they're attractive. You know, so they can say, "I'm so hot, even the fags want my dick. Bla bla bla! I'm a tool!" To accomplish this end, there are some straight men -- actual straight men -- who will flirt with gay men to the point that those gay men let their guard down and completely expose their interest, then leave them out in the lurch. It's cruel, really. Now, smart gay boys (like me) can, in some cases, actually manipulate this straight male ego to get more out of said straight man than he is initially willing to give...but at the end of the day, it really isn't worth it. STAY AWAY. Keep it casual, but that's it. Keep the heart off the sleave.

Tying these two points together, not going for the closeted guy automatically prevents me from going after the guy I think is closeted, but in reality is as straight as the WWE (...wait). In the case of my friend, part of the reason I was so able to take his joking at face value was the fact that I let myself take him at face value. He says he's straight, so he's straight. Period.

Two simple rules. When followed, they do a lot to keep me (and my pants) out of trouble, and actually help me collect some straight male friends.