About Me, About Her

It's been a while since I've written now and, when last I wrote, I had hoped to have a companion.

I have one now.

It was years of seeds planted in small deeds and kindnesses with no particular end goal, but it all feels so sudden and every day finds me trying to put words to all of it. I am so grateful. Her name? Well, I call her Jazz. There's a story to that. :)

If I had to tell the story, it would sound like a rom-com. In essence, it is beautiful and regal and spiritual and full of handwritten letters.

I have asked to be smitten and I couldn't have a more resounding response than this.

Aside from that, I've been sorting through things with work, home, and life.

At home, I have Morgan, Quan, and Ben. Things are hard all over. Morgan is depressed for a number of reasons. I get it, but I don't. He's wasting his life and he won't - or maybe can't - avail himself of anything he knows or that I would happily share in order to change his circumstances.

Quan is where he is and trying to move forward. We've not spoken in a while and probably won't for longer still. One night, as he was putting on clothes, a friend of his asked him to go out. This friend asked me to help encourage him to go out. Instead of Quan saying, "Marquis, I really don't want to go out. Please change subject..." or a similar thing, he makes an effort to spite me by stating that if he goes, I have to go.

So I prepped myself and went. While we are driving to the bar and as we arrive, he asks if I'm okay. If something is bothering me. I say nothing and sip on a drink. He then says that he intentionally brought me out to the bar in an attempt to cause me pain. Out of something that borders on malice. I am his friend; I thought I was. Then this happens.

There are a lot of things for which I have patience and tolerance and maybe more than I should in a few areas, but the one thing I will not abide is someone in my life that causes me pain while calling me friend. I've not shared a thought with him since that day. I'm vaguely aware of what he does and how he is; just enough to keep the bills paid.

I hear he's been asking about me to see how I'm doing. He'll only ever get that information, in brief at best, from me; I refuse to share myself with people that intentionally wound me. It wasn't even that big of a deal, but the fact that he would try to hurt me on purpose is unforgivable for me.

Ben has been at the house for about 3 months. Nearly four now. In that time, he's made several bad decisions and very few, if any, good ones. In spite of my willingness to help him and the effort I've made to demonstrate that willingness, he is not interested in changing his situation. Now that he's been there long enough for me to demonstrate my patience, I am going to have to have him move. I care about him, but he isn't moving forward or growing and lately, not even respecting the space he's in: the living room.

Dishes on the floor, dishes in the sink. I keep having to remind him to clean them. I know he's going through a hard time and that time will be very long for him, but I can't keep making excuses for the nonsense he does.

At work, recently they've set a path for the kinds of help we need. The company has finally grown beyond our ability to manage it well so we're hiring new salespeople. I was approached yesterday about a position which includes both development and project management. To say the least, I'm very happy about it and I look forward to what is to come in this respect.

Going back to Jazz: she'll be here in 3 weeks. I'm not even excited; that's an inaccurate word. It is a settled peace. A knowing that, when she arrives and I can see her smile, talk, or just give her a hug, that I can relax. It is hard to explain apart from there. I can simply let out a long sigh and relax. I look forward to the peace we will bring to each other in 8 days from now.

Unprocessed

The last few weeks have been a bit more busy, both inside and out.

At work, I walk in at 8:20AM and I am fortunate if I leave at 5PM. Between that are meetings, emails, and phone calls enough that I normally never leave the room I am in. I haven't in a few weeks now. It's busy and stressful enough that things are being missed. My boss is there for most of these moments. He's gotten to the point that he no longer holds me at fault and I've installed and made use of multiple task listing apps on my phone to keep up with everything.

At home, I find myself exhausted and needing to rest as soon as I get indoors. I lie down at weird times, only to wake up hours later. Two hours to be precise. This is a thing almost every single night. The time I spend asleep is spent in nightmares about work or home. The details are impossible to recall except in fragments (having torn pants at an important meeting, trying to make sales, soul-crushing arguments with my mom), but the feelings left behind are clear and most of them are appropriate for the nightmare.

I find myself wanting to tear down my life and rebuild it from the ground up. I want to get rid of all my clothes, books, and quit my job. After that, I want to move somewhere and start again with just doing my website maintenance work and living my life from that point. In a lot of ways, I have to wonder if this is the voice of God... except that it is the voice of God and I'm not wondering. Not that He's urging me in any way to quit my job, but to reset reset reset. It's almost as if I feel and hear a "YES!" everytime I think of doing something that, for lack of better term, "clears things out" and makes room for a new thing to grow in its stead.

I've also been thinking about life with God. I don't know how to say something is both bad and good or weak and strong, but it is those things. I wrote a bit about it.

Aside from this, I've thought about combing through the years I've spent writing and deleting things. Shortening them. Neatening them up. Removing repeating topics. Re-tagging things. Then I ask why I want to overprocess myself that much. I want to be a good and effective writer, but I also want to be honest. I don't write this journal for others; I write it for myself. I don't need to make myself more precise. I only need to continue being true to myself as I write. The re-tagging part might not be so bad an idea, but other than that, I'll leave things as they are to mark my trial triumph until now.

Homecoming – Feels

When you trust someone and give your heart to them, it's like jumping off of a cliff. 

I've been teetering at the edge for a while, not sure of what to do. It's hard to jump when your last attempt left you dashed on the rocks below. Really hard. 

I'm afraid – terrified – of making that jump when I'm so unsure that I'll even be caught...

...but even with the fresh wounds and memories from the jagged rocks below, I dream of jumping.

I'm tired and I'm afraid, but more than either of those things, I'm tired of being without you. Tired of being racked with pain because of stars and other symbols. I want you to be here. 

So I jumped and I have to say, it feels good to have done it. It feels even better for it to be received and appreciated and treasured. 

It feels good to be able to call you by your name again. It feels good to shed tears over something worthwhile. 

It feels good to have my friend back after having lost him for so long.

Welcome back, Pollux. I missed you.

Collateral Damage

injury inflicted on something other than an intended target; specifically : civilian casualties of a military operation

Let me tell you a story. In the story is a boy and a girl. It just so happens that this girl is very much into this guy and, as people are wont to do, she told him so. He echoed this feeling back to her, possibly not sure that the feelings were fully his own, but swept into the feelings all the same. At that moment, she looked into his eyes and saw the future full of hope and possibility.

He would one day say that no one knew him better than this one he'd found. He would say she was his salvation from a dark time.

They would say a lot of things, but they would find out later that they didn't mean them equally.

One step at a time, they strode along the path of life. They got matching tattoos, they got married, they had a child; in short, they were joined in the way that only those three particular words can join people. Those three words have caused people more pain than crucifixion.

They continued walking along this path, forged by this thing they labeled as love as far as they could go. Then one day something happened: said the one to the other, "I don't love you, anymore." Shock. Dismay. Confusion. Even more so when it was explained, "Not that, I don't love you, but just not that way."

From there, everything was a haze. What did they mean? Why would they say this? The questions had been asked and the moment had been set in stone as far as the one was concerned. Said the other, "It's not that I lied to you, it's that I didn't know."

"Did you ever love me?"
"I suppose, but it just hasn't been as strong..."

Soon, the story is spun in a way that only one ever seems to have truly loved while the other senses it was just a good idea. Ah, but there is a factor. There is another and to this another is going all the affection of which it was said, "I shall never give to another such as I have given you."

How deep the wound, how sharp the slight when the one sits alone and weeps whether silently or aloud at the loss of something that they believed was not only without chance of loss, but immutable and mutually felt. It suddenly becomes, "Well, you always loved me more, anyway..."

How acute the sting as the other becomes frustrated, confused, angry as the one process feelings they don't even know how to fully deal with; they've been betrayed, hurt, and lied to, but they wish never to give these labels to the other because so great was the love they promised that they could never bring themselves to do so horrible a thing.

The days pass by. The live in the same house, use the same car, share meals; their "love" has spawned tangible symbols into the world... but now these things mean nothing (or less) because in light of another, the other has said, "The one... it wasn't real. Not like this. Not like you..." They continue to trample, both in word and deed, everything that the heart of the one ever rested in. At the same time, says the other to the one, "Please don't be upset. I didn't lie to you, but I didn't know..." "It's not like I really took anything from you; it wasn't quite that serious and... I don't know... I just...."

Eventually there is silence and then a fire. The one plans to leave. Although they will never harm this other that they have loved, the betrayal and subsequent, still-forming scars are too much to bear. They will take their love and all of the symbols of it and bear it elsewhere. Where and to what end is unknown, but wherever it may be, it can't be here.

Not here.
Not that close.
Not now.

Thinks the one to themselves amid the inner turmoil that is now the core characteristic of their soul, "I would say 'not ever', but I cannot bring myself to think like this. I just have to get away somehow. Escape the feelings assaulting me.

Every moment, a reminder that evokes feelings... the feelings that, as recently found out, are a lie and may have always been thus. Worse still is that the thoughts and their poison continue on. How long did they think like this? So much does the thought plague them that they finally get up the gumption to ask; they have to know.

Months. A while. A long time now. Answers that are crippling. How could I have loved someone so long and deeply that never truly cared for me at all? A new wave of pain surfaces and with that, more poison. A wounded heart can only take so much.

There is a new thirst forming. For all the love the one felt, they want to want to inflict pain now. They want someone – anyone – to understand how they feel and have felt, but to this someone would have to see what they've seen...

...and they have seen hell through Satan's own eyes...

So goes the story for a while. They are snappish, short, withdrawn, silent, taciturn, they often stay to themselves. Meanwhile, the other notices none of this; so enamored are they of the new thing they have found that all memories of the one are no more than the most distant of blips on a radar that decreases in sensitivity with every passing moment.

Say the other to the one, after a while of seeing them upset: "Why don't you find another as I have? Then you could be happy..."

In their efforts to make things well, they have deepened the wound by miles; there is nothing worse than being told by the one to whom you have given as much as you could that you should simply forget them and give all you can again to another who may or may not also lie to and betray them. Who is this other to ever attempt to say, "You should give...." to anyone what they themselves by their own admission never truly gave to you? How can one suggest that you give when all they have done is taken?

Shock. Horror. Mortification at the very thought just brings more poison into the system of the one. The only antidote lies within the heart of the one person that will not give theirs. Meanwhile the one revels in their newfound love as if they have never loved before...

...and from what you've gathered, they've never truly have. It wasn't intentional, but the soul of the one is just collateral damage. That's how it is treated, anyways. There's no apology for allowing loveless months to stretch on without a word until something better came along that you could leave for... and who could blame anyone for this? If you had access to someone that poured out their all in every way to make your life better in any way they could, who wouldn't take advantage of that?

"I wouldn't...." thinks the one. "...I would never have done this to another living soul. I don't want to live... if there is even life after this."

The future is a void and dark place, full of and meaning nothing for the one as their heart continues to tumble downward and inward in a blur of times, dates, images, and places where all of the words were said on which they built their faith in the love of the other. Just as the point of total collapse, there is a moment of suspension.

What happens now? They realize there is a place to go.

Where is it? Where does this path lead? It is unknown, but there is one and they must walk it if for no other reason than the only alternative is dying. When they attempt to acquiesce to their wish to disappear, there is a light. It is a small mote.

One point that violently refuses to be crushed or swallowed or even diminished. This – rather than your passions or your heart – takes over dominion now and guides by instincts long forgotten. To protect yourself and forget others. The other goes from being a distant, faraway and pain-causing "friend" to simply being a threat to your life that you fight with every fiber in you to keep at bay and in its place.

The one gets up and starts making plans for a future without the other. The tears are less as is the hatred, but there is a fire alight now and it will not be extinguished until the other ceases to exist.

The other notices a change, but knows not what. They ask why you are distant and what is wrong. Incredulous is the one; how do you trample upon my heart and then ask so foolish a question as why I withhold it? Why do you care? Or are you pretending this, too? Are you just trying to get close enough to me to hold my heart so you can make sure to finish the work you started? Why do you now pretend to care when you know you lie at the center of all of the pain and anguish internal I currently bear?

Whatever trust there is there is now less and rightly. It feels so strange; the one to whom you would have given your life now barely gets your eye contact.

So comes the morning and the one gets up and goes to do their things. Lives their life. Tries simply not to be overwhelmed; nevermind forgetting. That could never be. They simply want to not hurt. They fear they will forget how to love after this, but the feeling of having a direction and the drive to accomplish is a powerful contrast to the pale, grey lack of any desire to so much as breathe before.

Finally, says the one to the other: I loved you. You said you loved me, then changed your mind. You should have told me. You shouldn't have lied. You shouldn't have betrayed me by saying things you didn't mean. However, that is past and can never be changed. What has been and what now is is. Here is what is: our bond is broken by you and broken shall it remain until you repair it. It is not in me to wish you harm and I will not, but you will be without me. You don't need to care and, though it pains me, I don't need you to. Goodbye.

So walked away the one with a larger light, a hotter fire, and a burnished soul. What becomes of the other? Who knows? Maybe this time, they told the truth when they spoke of love to another. That is not for the one to know now. There is simply glorious life to be lived. This day. The next day. The day after.

And this precious one will live it. All of it.

Twelve Two Thousand Twelve

For a writing challenge in this journal, I'm going to communicate my lessons and the hardships that have fostered them in twelve-word phrases. Let us begin:

• I will have to fly on my own.
• Friendship feels like a distant dream. I wonder if I imagined it.
• You've lost me and don't care. I'm not surprised.
• You're a liar, but I love you.
• You never cared for me, just my capacity.
• I'm wide awake.
• This war never ends. I want to rest. I have to fight.
• I am stronger, but what have I lost in gaining strength?
• I hope this is what you wanted; other options are gone.
• I will thrive without you. I wish I didn't have to.
• You are not ready until you master your own soul.
• It will end soon and I will still stand.
• I'm made to survive. I will not be lesser for anyone.
• Why do I bother trying? Because the fire burns. Ever.
• You scorn everything you've ever said you loved.
• Your lies don't surprise me, but you only deceive yourself.
• One day, I will not be here to call upon.
• It's almost time.

That's all. Enjoy December.

Vision and Movement

To my count, I have missed seven workout days since the day I started. Seven when I didn't think I would miss one. I know the reasons for this and there are many, but what there is in the end is doing and not doing; to not do 100% is the same as not doing (see rule of ten for reference).

That said, what do I do? I could choose to be down on myself about it, but I've done that before and, quite honestly, it doesn't do a thing for me. Nothing at all. In the end, again, there is do or do not. I have to remove all externals from the equation and ask two questions:

1. Do I want this or not?
2. Who/what can stop me?

Let's talk about this because it needs to be talked about, then set to repeat for life. The fact is that the only one who can stop me is God. Everything else that is not God is a factor. That said, who or what can stop me? Certainly not you whoever "you" is. Wipe that from your mind right now. Along with that, I know whether I really want something or not. Let's skip over any form of illusion and just get to the facts: you can do whatever you want to do right now.

Let me say this in a way that will stick to you: 

If you are not living your passion every waking moment of today, then either do it or stop bitching about it.

End of.

Yes, you.
Yes, me.
Yes, all of us.

We must maintain that which is wild within us and a good friend wrote a post that reminds me of God's uncanny knack of drawing our attention to this simple, powerful fact.

We're either doing this or we're not. Love, friendship, exercise, travelling, moving, jobs, all of it. Get up and get the fuck on already. If you don't know how, I'll help you.

Chikai

You've given life to the one my soul loves and in return I will give you my own from heartbeat to breath to brainwave.

I will withhold nothing to care for, protect and bring happiness to you.

I will destroy all that wishes to harm you and I will help anyone that helps you.

Yakusoku da yo.
Towa ni.

Paranoia En Route

When I go on trips like this, my mind goes into a dark state of alertness. Very dark.

I keep my keys in an uncommon place because (1) I can stab with them and (2) most security checks won't make you leave your keys. I keep all the long keys on a keychain close together.

I keep my license in an unusual pocket and keep my wallet in my bag.

I only take carry-ons on trips so I can hold my bag the entire time. I keep all phones on silent or vibrate. Today in particular, I lied and said my iPhone was just an iPod. Couldn't risk it no matter how giving I normally am.

I check surroundings to see who is looking or might look when I take money out. I keep the money in a breast pocket because they have buttons. I fold it flat to avoid unneeded attention to bulging pockets.

I wear neutral colors and avoid any clothing with distinct patterns or labels so that I can blend into crowds easily while being relatively hard to identify.

I avoid eye contact on a large scale. Or smiling. Or any other inviting expression.

I stay near one person at all times or keep my back to a wall.

I only use stalls when in a bathroom.

I text instead of calling. Conversations by phone are no longer than 5 minutes unless it is my mom; she gets 10.

I leave headphones in to decrease the chances someone will talk *to* me. At the sane time, I keep the volume low when I'm not on the bus and listen to everything *around* me.

I always sit toward the center of the bus and near the aisle where possible. Never too far in the back, but far enough back.

I visualize scenarios in which I am attacked with knives, guns, while seated or in small/confined spaces. I visualize ways to counteract these things. This was how I passed time while eating tonight.

How Strange the Feeling: Part 2

It's not that I think you are weak. It's that I am strong, too. I don't think you see this. I don't think you comprehend this. I can understand that. It's not something I show to many people. It's nice to be mentally strong. It's nice to be emotionally strong. It's nice to be spiritually strong and of the types of strength, strength of spirit is most important, but I am a physical being on a material plane and there is strength there.

For the longest time, it's strength that I develop in a sort of fear. I don't know what I would do with a great deal of strength if I ever had to wield it, but things are different now. Now, I have a desire for that strength to be tangible. Felt. Expressed. I suppose I always have, but now the desire, having been so long ignored in my pursuits for milder, softer expressions has become a beast I can no longer contain... nor do I wish to. Such is the power of one conversation I suppose.

I will be seen for the warrior I am inside by whatever means. I don't know what that will cost me yet. I have my safeguards in place and I've made my plans and I've already taken steps that way.

The sad part, as I sit here in this office chair, is that I realize as I type that, even if no one helps me, I'm doing this anyway. In the quiet and in the shadow and I will simply use everything in my world to help me without telling them what they are feeding until this beast is fully grown.

Just thinking about this brings a flood of emotions, but mostly, it leaves all emotions feeling flat except for an express few. Now, I really want to fight someone. I need to focus on paperwork, but I'd rather wield a spear.


Polli, I made you make a promise. I really hope that you'll honor that. Things are a little bit worse in some ways than I originally thought.

In My Own Mind

I'm looking around in my own mind and what I find is pretty interesting material. I'm going to write it down in bullet form.

• I need to explain things even less than I do now.
• I need to check the laundry from last night. One moment...
• Having checked the laundry and found it dry, I will now need to put the clothing away. One moment...
• I wonder if I should separate the minimalism stuff in my blog from the other stuff... Nah, that's stupid.
• I need to get back to my reading.
• I'm looking forward to thursday now that I have some dietary ideas that will help me get to my goals and make sense.
• I really want a hug. Cuddle time would be unspeakably fantastic right now.
• I want to be left entirely alone. I think it would be good for me to have that kind of disconnect. That's probably a bunch of negative emotions talking, but it's there in my mind, too.
• I need to sort through my magic cards today.
• I need to get rid of stuff. I don't accumulate much, but I always have something I want to get rid of. This month, I acquired one shirt.
• I don't know how to feel about him still and somewhere in here, I know that I never will. I will have to choose to do loving things every time we speak or meet and that is going to be my cross to bear.
• There is too much going on next weekend. AWA, a wedding, and my mom wanting to take family pictures.
• I don't want to see Prince next weekend. I'm still upset with him.
• My blogs this week are going to suffer because I refuse to write without being inspired and I'm not that right now.
• I want to practice my kata. It was nice to walk through it briefly yesterday and see how much I was able to remember; I missed two steps, looked up what I thought I forgot, and realized I missed nothing.
• I want to take everything off of my wall. However, it is important that I have those things there; some things motivate me.
• I want to run away from everything and everyone and not even turn my head to see what I left.
• Guys suffer from deeped-seated fears and insecurities just as much as, if not more than, any girl I've ever met in my life. The fact we pretend otherwise is stupid.
• I need to just eliminate stupid people from my life. All of them. I don't even care what the reason is. I want jazz and intelligent, light-hearted convo where we still know how to laugh.
• I need to reconnect to the Family. I miss them. I wish they weren't so hard to deal with at times.
• I want to go Home. Like now. Even if I'm not allowed in the front door.
• Why do people keep telling me, "Hey, I'll call/hang" and not do this? I'd rather not be told and have you randomly show up than to wait for your call or appearance and not have you there. Overall, consistency is nice.
• I hate facebook... and g+... and twitter right now, but I love the people they connect me to.
• Rickey makes me mad the way he goes about doing things. That's incorrect: I allow myself to become irritated and his life happens to give me things to focus that irritation toward rather frequently. Even then, this isn't entirely accurate; I only become irritated for a moment, then it settles back down into cool apathy and I neither think nor feel anything more about the situation. That's who he is and how we are. When he wants to speak to me, even from his bedroom which is adjacent to my room, we speak on facebook. I don't even care enough to alter that.
• I'm going to do something else now.
• I want to dance physically, but my soul does not want this.

End trans.

Bar Room Brawl Incoming

Okay, so yesterday I was at the office. At the end of the day, he asked me if I had looked something up.

I did, but I didn't. Let me explain.

They asked me to find something to host and streaming videos. I suggested screencast.com and youtube. To me, that was that. He wanted more research than that it seems and so decided to go on a tirade about blowing the BS whistle about me working.

This I did not like. No, I wasn't going crazy working all day -- there wasn't anything to be done really -- but I do not like being placed under a light as if I am lazy. I'm not. I'm a lot of things at varying times at work:

• spacey
• off-task
• out-of-focus
• moody

but lazy I am not by any means.

Whatever. I did my work and I left.

Today when I came in (first one in the office) and sorted everything out and then started working on things, I decided to go out and get coffee. On the way out, I see the boss man. I open the door for him and head out. He asks if I'm ok.

"Yeah."

I get the coffee and come back. I work. He calls me over to work on something.

Okay, fine.

I walk over and he asks me to help him send the emails he mentioned yesterday. He asks if I'm okay or in a mood.

"No..."

He asks again. Meredith says, "No." He says, "No, I mean at me."

"No..."

It's one of those things. If you know that you've done something to piss me off, then why are you asking if I'm mad at you. If you didn't do anything, then stop asking. Don't we have work to do right now? This is no time to bother me about my feelings. I'm sitting here and not working and that's wasting time and I have a list of things to do.

Anyway...

He watches me working on the emails. He comments that I work like a machine sending the emails. I am very efficient. I finish and go back to my desk.

He comments on something I took a while to finish last week. Mind you, he complimented it yesterday. People are fickle. Entirely unnecessary even if it was joking and it may have been. I put my headphones on and he comments on this. I don't care. Later, he asks me to stop working on one thing to work on something else.

Okay, fine.

I'm working on this with my headphones on. I'm typing web addresses and reading documentation and asking around on twitter. I find some things and I attempt to test them for a bit. I ask him for the video. He comments that he would need to load it to a hard drive. Then nothing. I ask again.

"I already have it here, but I guess you didn't hear me with the headphones on."

Of course not. I can hear the typing of the not-as-loud-as-you keyboard and the entire conversation on pricing you're having, but nothing whatever about the hard drive. Again, unneeded and unnecessary. It's annoying. So much so that I want to cause him physical harm. I'm trying to just keep a cool head, get through work, and go home, but your constant need to open your mouth and breathe is bothering me and even more so when words come out.

Whatever. I retrieve the drive.

I try to do all manner of things with the video, but it will not comply with the conversion software I have.

Okay, fine.

I finally sign up for a Vimeo account to test it. I'm still waiting on my test to go through. He asked me to write something down for the phone call we were on; oddly, he had the novel idea to tap on my desk to get my attention (even though I heard the whole conversation with my headphones on and playing music anyway).

Okay, fine.

Whatever.

This has been my whole day and so far I'm okay. I only have one hour and four minutes before I can be done with this for now but I'm right at the edge of just forgetting where I am and snapping at someone. This is ridiculous.

You're stressed, I get it. I follow. Stop being a jerk. I've done nothing to you.

a short word on family

In my more hurt moments (I'm trying to avoid anger here), I try to extract some kind of lesson. The context is this. My younger brother made a comment and responded in the following stream of text. You can follow from bottom to top:

Now as for my need to "have something to say", it's things like "I'm feeling [insert negative emotion here]" to which I say "[insert encouraging thing here]". "Why do you have to say something? I don't say anything when you post things like this."

Mind you, I have no problem with people trying to be encouraging and help me feel better if it comes from the heart. He seems to hate this with all of his heart. I don't know why... but maybe this second part helps, again, bottom to top:

The fact is that all of my friends know that if I see them in trouble, I try to help. Sometimes, that is saying nothing, sometimes I give them money or time or an ear or a shoulder or my raw unadulterated thoughts. In any case, it's not a matter of me being opinionated (how many people see me that way) as much as having (1) the will to help and (2) the experience or insight to make my will possible.

This is met with what equates to an elaborate version of, "Fuck off."

Oh, okay then.

Maybe he feels like I'm trying to be his dad by offering the simplest of encouragements or advice. I don't tell him not to drink. I don't talk to him about drug use or his sex life or any of his personal affairs aside from the ones he posts and that infrequently and usually a relatively "safe" topic.

It seems that there isn't a subject safe enough. He just wants me to be around or nearby and call now and then. I guess he's content to know that I'm alive, but wants me at further than arm's length away and that's as much of a relationship as he wants with me. He can call and ask for money if he needs it (have done before), or just to shoot the breeze (have done that), but I can't ever let it be more than that. I suppose the lesson here is to be spoken to and not speak.

At moments like this, I can only pray that he never requires any true strength from this familial relationship, because the way he behaves, if he ever did need that strength, it would fail him and it would be no one's fault but his own.

I can't go back in a time machine and live with my dad. The parent I lived with was not my choice and life took its course accordingly. If I'm just someone with an "older brother complex" and not an older brother to him, then I'll just be some person on the periphery of his life and be content with that.

It sucks, though. Essentially, I'll end up treating him like TJ, David, Willie, and so many other people that have passed out of my life up to this point and, from what I gather, I should feel nothing about that.

I suppose that's what I should do. Be my own person and ignore the fuck out of him...

Okay, as he wishes.

hate from afar

I would think with all of the things that have happened in the last couple of years with people doing all of these varying things to end hate and violence and all of these things, that people would get it, but there's one type of hate that I really believe is here to stay.

To preface the rest of this blog, your author (me) is a christian. I'll give you a moment to process.

.

.

.

It started with my normal routine of checking on my timeline. I scrolled back a few hours and ran into this post here.

First thought, "Goodness, what on earth? Strong opinion, but ok..." Thought a lot of things. There are plenty of organizations -- even Christian ones -- that would just give the money or whatever without having to send a box of bibles, but even if they did, it's part of their faith. I think if someone is going to adhere to their faith, then good for them as long as they don't ignore obvious needs. In this case: don't send a box of bibles when people are freezing and starving; it is better faith to just send them food and blankets and maybe a letter.

What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

That's James 2:14-17 and it's pretty black and white about situations like this. It's foolish and frustrating to people around you when they need things like clothing or food or basic things for you to go "We're praying for you"; give them an effin' blanket.

I went to this person's timeline to look at things and try to figure out where they are coming from. Again, because I believe that understanding is important; people listen to those that listen to them. This is some of what I find:

So much hatred from what I can see. Mind you, I understand frustration. I understand wanting to cockpunch people for being idiotic, but just all of the intensity of just hostility to christians. I'm not a fan of hating whole people groups or religious sects or things like that because I understand that people are individuals and should be given their own merits as such.

Honestly, I was hurt. It sucks knowing that they are saying all of these mean-spirited and disparaging things about me (since I'm included in that group, by definition to speak of one member in terms of that group is to talk about all members of that group. "Christians are stupid" means that all people known as Christians are stupid regardless of individual merit since they are addressed as a group and there is no modifier like "some").

I was going to write a full rant, but since I tweet a stream of connected thoughts, I'll post them all here for you. It's more stream-of-consciousness than anything. I removed hashtags to make things easier to follow.

I can understand where @japanphotos is coming from, but as a Christian, I wouldn't have sent a bible to people who are hungry and need food. It sucks, honestly. Nothing but anger and frustration and I haven't even met him yet. We may have been friends otherwise. I mean, I don't even know what to say sometimes. I've never let being a Christian give me a reason to hate anyone. At the same time, people seem to come up with more reasons to hate me sheerly on religious reasons even if I'm a cool guy otherwise. The kicker to all of this is that the people that hate me so much from afar are atheists. I mean, wouldn't a non-religious person find a reason other than religion to be angry at someone? Wouldn't there be further analysis? I think it is pretty obvious that some people, even well-meaning people, can be stupid, Christian, or both at the same time and just because someone is religious does not mean they have to be mean, pushy, forceful, unloving, or greedy, but you'll never know and the reason you won't know is because, without any further information, you make them an instant pariah in any way u can. I guess I'll just have to take it in stride and let you hate me if you want. Even all the way from Japan or wherever else in the world u r. Sometimes, the way everyone else reacts, I should be afraid to walk up to someone who knows I'm a christian and even ask change for $1. I have to chuckle; I bet the same people that would roast me for being a christian were on the bandwagon for the NOH8campaign...

I would say I'm mad, but more than that I'm hurt. Not surprised, not even shocked, but hurt. I wonder if I should even be that considering the following:

“If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you. Remember what I told you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. If they obeyed my teaching, they will obey yours also. They will treat you this way because of my name, for they do not know the one who sent me."

John 15:18-21. Mind you, this was being applied to the current "church establishment" at the time, but obviously religious people weren't the only ones that hated this Jesus guy, so let's get that out of the way...

You know, in spite of however I feel about it, I can't say I wasn't warned. I'm being warned right here, in black and white, that it's going to be a fact of life as long as I'm alive and I'll just have to suck it up and deal with it. Do I think that makes me special or a martyr? No. Not even close. At least people aren't (yet) throwing rocks and shooting at me because I'm a christian, but it means that I'm just going to be another one of them even in the world of social media.

Awesome.

other developments

A couple of days ago, I was in the office, reading twitter and doing my work when a thought struck me that I felt the need to write on the whiteboard at work, then tweet, then write on my board in paraphrased form. Allow me to kick your tail:

Why is ______ more important that the things I say that I need/want to do?

For instance, I have meaning to exercise for a while now, but hadn't done it. Well, I got home and was about to fall into my relaxing routine and about to hop on facebook when I started writing the sentence on the board... and I thought. Exactly what am I doing that isn't exercise?

Chat. Facebook. Twitter.

Is that more important that exercise?

Well considering the benefits of exercise to my personal interests, no.

Then you're sitting down.... why?

And with that, I was exercising, without external motivation, for an hour and loved every minute of it. Why? I did something I wanted and needed to do and left myself no excuses at all for not accomplishing that thing.

Today, it was getting my videos done and formatting a computer and writing in my social media blog (after four weeks absent, I have done two in two days). Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

Whatever it is, it will be met without excuses.

man period

Yes, the man period. It sucks. I hate it. It's 30 days or so of being super irritable and aggressive toward almost all of life for no reason.

I'm almost sure this is me right now. I hate everything and almost everyone. I can't stand being in large groups of people... like seven. My energy lacks. I can think of 20 things including people that I care about at all right now. 20.

That can't be good I am sure, but that's where I am. 20.

I don't even want to be this irritated. Every bit of stupidity, every irrational thought, mine or anyone else's, is met with blinding rage. I can't even stop myself. I don't filter, I just flip out every single time. I can't keep going like this, but at the same time, I don't want it to end.

I'm tired of filtering and letting people carry on with their nonsense, so now I don't. I hide away in my room to save myself from it. I ignore phone calls. I flat out tell people to piss off and not talk to me again. I'm fine with it.

What contributes to it? Who knows? It could be guys being dumb; I have a vehement lack of compassion for anything with a penis. In fact, I hope they die most times. Tired of them being stupid, especially in the area of relationships -- gay, straight, variations thereupon. I'm mad at that. I'm mad at sex in general. I'm mad that I have to be on earth. I'm mad that I'm even mad; for the most part, my life is ok. I'm stable. Job is good, money is good, bills are more than paid. What the fuck am I mad for....?

Yet, I look into myself and I just see frustration, hatred and discontent.

God help me.

hey God...

When I was in college, and since that time, I've always heard that people often avoid asking God for help or even talking to Him when things are going well, but seek Him furiously and without relent when they are in some kind of trouble to help. Thinking about that, it seemed odd to me; from what I have seen in church history, Christians do better when they are in need and worse when they have much as a general trend (specific cases usually lead to a breakdown at some point).

In any case, I thought myself to be in that odd crowd of people that, if I ever would need help, it would be at a time that everything looked like it was going well... and so, here I am. I find that writing helps me, and maybe this will help you.

I.

Need.

Help.

Repeat...

I.

Need.

Help.

I thank God for many things.

I have a good job. I get paid well and I even recently got a raise. My bosses treat me well and reward me when I do a good job. They are patient with me. They even recently gave me a raise and they always do what they can to keep the best for me in mind when they do or plan things. They value my input and they keep me engaged with what the company does. They even take the time to tell me, "Marquis, you do good work and we are glad you are here." That means a lot to me.

I have a good home that is conveniently near everything, yet far away enough from town to avoid noise and drunk people. The people in my neighborhood are friendly, but keep to themselves; I can talk if I want to and if I don't it is completely normal. I have access to a swimming pool for several months out of a year, even. I have two roommates that I get along with very well. We work hard. The bills get paid on time usually. I get along with my landlord well and he respects me greatly as I do him.

I have things. Good things. I own a macbook pro I got for free. I have enough clothes to wear. I have food and I haven't lacked much of anything at all in a very long time. It was hard getting here, but I made it. Not on my own -- never on my own -- but I made it.

Financially, I have never been this well-off in my life and it is pretty stable so far. I just got my tax return. I reached my second financial goal this year: I have $1000+ in my bank account (it's actually a lot more than that) and all of my bills are current, so I don't have to spend anything right now. I am about to put $500+ in savings. I've never done that before. I just got a $1400 tax return on my payday. Serendipity hardly even covers how I feel about this. I can buy a new computer, or a new phone, and the money I spend on it won't even be missed. I could buy a new iPad if I wanted to and it would be pocket change right now...

...but my heart....

I'm asking for help because over time and stress and circumstance, I think I love a little less. In my mind, I argue with people around me a lot. People in general frustrate me, actually. Forgiveness is harder and dismissing is a lot easier. I'm almost certain that I should care more about things, but I can't even remember what those things are. I should probably love people more, but they annoy me too much for me to even want to try let alone actually do it and, may I humbly remind myself, loving them is a command and not a suggestion. Tolerance isn't even. Being polite isn't enough. Compassion? A lost concept most times. I understand that it's something that I work on and will always need to. I understand that sometimes what I feel is compassion is just being a little naïve now and then, but something is not right and I can't put my finger on it.

I just don't want my soul to be lost. I don't want to be the guy that has everything, but ultimately has nothing. The house? My lease is up this month and I might be moving so what then? The job? Who knows what could happen? What then? Money? Things will happen that I'm not even prepared for and who knows what could happen. What then?

Love is important. Love is essential. Love is why we are here.....

....and yet I lack even the low levels of what I should have. I actually had to stop at work in the middle of work one day in the bathroom and pray for God to just teach me all over again if He has to what it means to love people. I can't understand why He does and how even less, but that's who he is so I need to follow that pattern.

So... God, I need help; teach me how to love again.

we fight for love

In my last entry, I wrote about things that make love hard for me on the level that I wish, but I fight for it because of all of you. People that aren't reading, people that have yet to read, people that read and people that never will.

For all of you that make my life wonderful. For all of you that don't always get me or even reach me in spite of our best efforts. For all of that and for all of you, when I wake up in the morning, I just try again. I fight my urges to close up and bottle up and hide who I am in spite of that very person being judged whenever he dares to venture out into daylight.

I continue to let you draw nearer, closer, and deeper in the hope that one of you will pick up on it and understand and that, for one moment, I will have that kind of relationship that I ache for. In those moments, for the split second or seconds or days or months that it happens, I am the happiest person on earth. I'm looking for those moments. I'm looking and I'm looking hard among all of you that have, thus far, decided to stick around.

I love you. All of you. And now I am going to be more open to being more of me so you can love me back.

freedom for tears

I was talking to a newer friend of mine and we got into similarities between the two of us (many to say the least). One of the ones we got into were emotional expressions. I talked about a particular spot in my heart that few people ever get to. It is carefully guarded and so good is the job I have done so far of guarding it that most people don't even know it is there and should they discover it, it is so discouraging a process to get to that space that it is never given full effort.

That was the desired result, so I have no complaints there... until now.

What is different between now and then was being able to talk through the process of what I called "this space" in my heart. It is a space where who I am emotionally flows without reservation. That part of me has been damaged and battered and bruised so many times that I kind of just said, "Well fuck having people here. They obviously don't want to be here..."

It started in fifth grade: I took a piece of construction paper and 5-10 sheets of print paper and made a book out of it to write things that I didn't feel like telling people. I just wanted to remember things that happened at a particular moment in time. I was a lot more emotional then and on top of it I was a 10-year-old. When I would become upset about things involving my friends or other things about the world I didn't get, I was told that it was girly to be so emotional and I should stop doing it. Since I couldn't do that, at the age of 10, I decided I would just make a space for those feelings somewhere else. My mom found that first book and got upset with a lot of things I wrote, but I craved that freedom to express my feelings, so I made another one.

And another one....

And another one....

Fast forwarding a few years, I made friends and became a rather fun person to be around. The popularity continued to grow, but it was hard to know who I could or couldn't trust with my feelings. You never could be sure that the person you told something today wouldn't ridicule or harshly judge you tomorrow, so I continued to stick with what I could be sure of until about 2001.

In 2001, a semester or so into my college experience, I discovered livejournal. Creating an account there, I started posting things. My friends that also had accounts there could read, comment in supportive ways or just know what was going on, and things continued along. This was good for a while, but I started to ache in my heart for more; I wanted a person with whom I could share my good, my bad, and my in between and still be myself. No need to explain, preface, or water-down how I thought and felt.

Around that time, between starting college and livejournal, I met this Jesus guy. Praying was so freeing then because I could just talk and I felt understood and --- even above that --- accepted. This was everything I wanted... until I wanted something else. Let's be clear, Jesus is all that we could ever need -- God in the flesh and then some -- but there is more to be had. Even at the beginning of time, man had God to start with and God was like "Hmm... This isn't working. I'm going to make someone for him." Look:

18 The LORD God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.”

19 Now the LORD God had formed out of the ground all the wild animals and all the birds in the sky. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name. 20 So the man gave names to all the livestock, the birds in the sky and all the wild animals.

But for Adam no suitable helper was found. 21 So the LORD God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and then closed up the place with flesh. 22 Then the LORD God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.

- Genesis 2:18-22

See what I mean? It wasn't enough for man to have God or even a purpose. He needs relationships with people like himself, too. No, I don't think this is just about a man and a woman in a romantic relationship, but about relationships in general. I was lacking the closeness in human interaction that I had with my journal. I wanted to be known and to be understood by people that cared about me and this was something I didn't have.

My attempts to find that were very hit and miss for a long time all the way throughout college. I was always honest with people and I was a relatively popular person; mind you, I won no contests, but I was pretty well-liked by everyone that knew about me. Years after I have left and even now, I am remembered fondly by many and I am usually introduced to others with glowing remarks.

At the same time, I felt that no one knew me. I swallowed up so many emotions just to shield others from them. I was honest about how I felt, but I didn't allow myself to feel what I felt. I was angry, but hid anger from everyone; I was hurt, but covered my wounds even though they were nearly fatal...

...maybe this is how a certain someone feels...

At one point, though, I was able to be all of my emotional self with a few people. It was during my early college years. They understood that I was emotional and intensely so and they understood. What they didn't understand, they accepted. This was so meaningful to me, that I can still clearly recall all of their names -- first and last -- with hardly a thought and for that time when I was able to just be myself without thought or consideration, I will be eternally thankful.

Unfortunately, that isn't the happy ending. I had to move on into a world where people were not that understanding. Back to the books and the blogs and the shielding people from myself. That persisted for many years with hit and miss attempts at being all of myself until about two years ago.

During that time, I met Morgan where I worked. He and I started to talk a bit and get to know each other and a very strong base for friendship came out of that. In time, we got together with Gary and moved into an apartment together. It was a good time where we all got to know each other pretty well. During that time, Morgan and I talked about varying things and one of those things was my emotional state. He said I kept too many things inside, so using most of what I wrote here, I explained myself. I explained that, in the end, when I allow my feelings to flow in full, people run away because it is just too much for them to deal with and that I would rather feel isolated than to have people run away from me all the time.

At that time, I was kind of wanting to shut myself off from the world as I do from time to time because of varying things. He told me at that time that I could tell him anything. I started to protest, but ended up asking if he was sure that he wanted this. He said he did and I believed him, so I started the next day with just talking through varying life events. Some of them were people I missed, lesson learned, and the like. Other things were a bit more painful and during those moments, I cried. No hesitation, no pre-thought. I honestly think that some of those tears were during out of sheer relief.

I cried almost everyday for the first week or two then every few days or so after that. It tapered off and while I wasn't constantly teary, I was a bit more... lively. Sun was warmer, grass was greener, that sort of thing. I shared a lot during that time. When I finally got through all of the pain, there was a lot of happiness to be found. A lot of love...

It felt like being back in that time in 2001.

That's what I thought. The truth came out a few months and several complications later. The truth was that I was more emotional than he was prepared for at that time and he didn't handle seeing me in tears well and in fact he would rather have had me not cry so much and my being so emotional was a bit more than he was used to. Add a girlfriend that didn't understand the closeness of the relationship to the mix and you have a fairly stressful situation. Everything up to this point I would have understood if he had been willing to tell me as I had told him so many times before to -- I always did say, if you want out of this, let me know. I can't keep you here and I won't if it makes you uncomfortable.

Instead, I found out from a mutual friend who took me on a drive of two hours through a nearby small town that all of these things were true. Everyone was too "scared" to tell me.

I've never understood that. I get that people don't want to hurt people, but don't you think it would be best that, if you are going to hurt someone anyway, that you do the least hurtful thing of the options you have? It seems people are more concerned with not feeling like a bad person than actually not being a bad person.

Anyway, I became hurt, then angry. I had given expression and access to things I hadn't let someone come near in years and my return on that was the same as the first things that had driven me to journal in the first place; in the end, people couldn't endure it and they ran away then shouted "TONE THAT DOWN!!!" from afar.

In the end, I had to pull myself together, but it was too hard for me at that time to just put everything back the way it was. I had given much and much had to be taken back in. In my usual fashion, I did the one thing I knew I could. I made a resolve and around that resolve I made rules for how my emotions would re-channel themselves and forced all of my current feelings into it. I decided that I would not feel pain from this and that I wouldn't allow myself to be open to pain from anyone again. Not for a while.

The first week was hard, but after that, there was a near-total implosion of my emotions. On the outside, I probably felt like ice to the touch. On the inside, I barely felt alive. Whenever Morgan showed up, there was something that IMO was a bit beyond hatred or even bitterness for what happened for a while. That subsided over time, too, but it didn't turn into apathy the way my other emotions toward things did. It became... something I don't have a word for. It was bad, though.

This continued for several months. It was like being another person. In some ways, I was. It took months -- several of them -- for he or anyone else to reach me. When he finally did, there was still residue from closing everything up before. At least he came to me in some effort to be reconciled. It was hard to open myself again for a while. Walls had to be deconstructed, but I wasn't sure about destroying them. I had to rebuild the person I was again; open myself to feeling varying emotions I had cut myself off from for several months. Every now and again, the reactions I had from that time would flare up and I had to find creative ways to squash them. It took a lot of prayer, good friends, introspection and some old fashioned "just dust yourself off" to get things going again.

Since then, things are close and such, but not quite the same. I'm a lot more contained as far as emotional expressions go and I may always be with him. I believe it is best since that is all he can handle and I couldn't bear to put myself out there like that again and have the same thing occur. Doing the same thing and expecting different results is retarded.

Why does this matter? Why have you been reading all of this? Well, it's a part of my process of introspection. I don't want to close myself off from everything, so occasionally I open up a window to my insides like this and I let you see what I'm not saying.

Aside from this it was something that talking to my friend sparked in me. I felt his pain as he had been through a similar experience. I understood where he was coming from. Namely, that feeling that he would never find someone to understand him and STAY once they finally did. I thought about him and others feeling that pain and it hurt something so deep inside that I had to cry.

He and I, emotionally, are very similar and have similar backgrounds, experiences, and reactions. It is uncanny and very cool. That said, as we talked about this, after much struggle, I told him about everything I just talked about. During that, time, I cried for the first time in a very long time. I cried because of good things and bad things and things I remembered and I felt no fear in doing so.

That last thing was the part that brought me to tears quickest. I wanted that for him, too. I had no reason to fear saying things. I didn't have to screen myself. No editing. No explanation. No apprehension that this person couldn't process or wouldn't understand. I gave him the same invitation into the same space and he accepted. He noted things right away. I didn't smile. I didn't laugh. I was a lot more somber. Lost in my own thoughts. He saw it and accepted it all even though he didn't completely understand. He jumped into it aware of everything.

I thought about the amount of people that I can be my full emotional self with sans thought. Few. Scarily few. I don't even have family members in this space. I mean, so many of you have said "you can tell me anything" and maybe I can, but that hasn't sunk in yet. Everyone around me expects strength from me -- my job, my family, my friends. It is part of the reason that my heart breaks for church leaders; I know how they feel. Sometimes I want to be around someone I can feel free to fall apart in front of and know that when I fall apart and I'm a mess of incoherent words and a runny nose and all kinds of incomprehensible emotions that they will still be there even more committed to the friendship than before.

I've always heard that I should be the friend I wish to have, so no matter what people say -- whether I agree or disagree -- if I sense a good person and worthwhile friendship there, I will endure anything (other than neglect and abuse) and answer the 3AM phone calls (most of the time. The 3PM or 7PM ones are a different matter lol) and all of those things. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever have that friend or friends that I don't have to screen myself to be around.

I am not always happy. I do not always smile. I am not always nice. Those are things that I do often and most of the time those things are easy to do and be, but some days I am mean and angry and want to tell people where they can go and how to get there if you take my meaning and this SHOCKS people. It's like Kercell says (paraphrase): I'm not an a*hole, but I can be an ass from time to time and I need that right to just tell people off instead of just swallowing up how I feel when it isn't happy and sunshine-y all the time.

I need to not have to be a superhero in order to have friends (and before you protest, think about the concept). I realize I'm unique on many levels, but that doesn't make me less human..

...and I'm not. I'm only a man that wants to be understood and accepted as he is without having to change drastically (or at all for that matter unless it is inherently unhealthy) in order to be unconditionally loved. However, because that is not yet the case, I have this spot inside where very few people are allowed to remain (altho a few of you do venture from time to time) where I keep all of my innermost feelings on lock. Everything I don't say, or can't say, or don't talk about because in spite of your words, I can just read you and see that you don't want to be bothered (some of you I read, but I decide to let you in just to show you that you don't mean what you say)... all of this becomes it's own heart space that I only let you guys even see a sliver of when I post things on FB that get like 27 comments or get like 20 text messages.

The fact is that while it is a moment for you, this is an awareness that I keep mostly secret every minute of every day.

However, maybe with that exchange and a few tears and maybe this post, my world in all of its facets will expand a little more. It's not for the faint of heart, but it is open to everyone that puts in the work to earn it...

Then again, it's probably safer and easier to just leave things the way they are and not complicate them.

being gay. being hurt.

I think I will talk about the hard part first.



Today, at the office, I heard "Mama" cry. Among my friends, very few things ever escape my notice. Tears most especially. She cried today because our CEO was being a jerk and accused her of doing something she didn't do. I won't get into the details of what, but it hurt her to the core and she cried. Not a few silent tears. She cried. She hurt...



...and now I rage. I have had nothing but violence filling my mind for the last two hours and restraining myself is harder than it has ever been. On the outside, I look depressed or sullen. On the inside, I dream of punching someone in the face repeatedly and mercilessly until all of the adrenaline passes out of my system. I can't even focus on the server test work I am supposed to be doing because I can't think about anything else. Not even my work.



Everyone here works very hard to do as much as they can for this man and all he does is call and talk down to people and trample their feelings and hard work and I am pissed enough that if it happens again, regardless of how much I like this job or my concerns about obtaining another one, I will walk out of this office and I won't even think of looking back.



I'm tired of seeing people hurt.

I'm tired of hurting.

I'm just tired.





On the topic of being gay: my friend Gary is gay. That's him all day and I love him. I am probably going to be his roommate again soon. I talked to my mom to tell her I was moving and he came up. She knows he's gay. She's a Christian (well, she's working at it and doing good so far). That said, the Bible says being gay is a sin (spare the arguments for a while, I'm just talking here, not making a critical analysis of whether God loves you or not) -- no questions, no bones about it.



So that said, this topic gets sensitive. Never heated (I'm too good at diffusing heated topics for it to get volatile and too even-tempered to be drawn into explosive arguments), but sensitive. I have gay friends and I spend time with them. A lot of time. Any time they want to hang out. We have sleepovers and watch movies and get food and go shopping at malls together and I don't even think of treating them differently than I would anyone else. Never have.



My mom thinks I should. She and I talked about this. She thinks that it is okay for me to have gay friends, but that I shouldn't spend as much time with them as I would with my straight friends because the Bible says it is wrong for a man to be with another man in the same way a man is with a woman (Leviticus 18:22 for those unaware).



Mind you, I know what the Bible contains as I spent four years reading and analyzing, but I took the time to pose a question: what makes that more wrong than anything else? My mom paused, so I explained it this way:



I have a roommate that is legally married, but sleeps with other women on a regular basis. One of those women is engaged. He is not married to any of these girls he sleeps with and has no intention of being so.



My mom replies, "...but that's different..." to which I respond as follows:



Wrong is wrong. What makes him sleeping with all of these women any different than a man sleeping with a man other than gender? Nothing. Nothing at all. If it is wrong, then it's all wrong for both of them. I don't say anything to the man sleeping with all of these women and as long as my roommate respects me enough to not have sex everywhere in the house, then he is free to sleep with whomever or date whomever. I have no problem with who he is or what he does. I am no one to say anything to him at all.



She let the conversation go at that. How do I feel about it? I just want respect. I don't like the idea of people sleeping together outside of wedlock, but it happens all around me. Keep it to yourself and don't wake me up banging your headboard against the wall and we'll be fine. Don't smoke your weed at my house and I'll have no problems. People have to live their lives. I try to be a positive influence, but I cannot control people and I don't have the authority to mark someone as sinner or saint; I am not the standard by which those things are measured anyway. Mind you, if I see obvious wrong, then I point it out, but to me, it is wrong to sleep with someone outside of wedlock regardless of gender. Aside from that, love is love.


Maybe I am too open of a mind.

vulnerable vs impenetrable

Last night on FB, I got a popup from a good friend of mine: Edy. I knew him back in college and, more important, he knew me. We've recently reconnected and have been chatting pretty often since. He asked how I was, and I said okay.

Just ok?
Yeah. Ok.
Y?

From there, it was eye-opening to a point. I knew where I was and why. What I didn't know was how this affected others. It isn't anything big; I just don't let things reach me lately. He said it was sad because I was one of the most loving people he'd met and that my unusually high sensitivity made it obvious.

We talked about that. I used to be a lot more sensitive and emotional than this. If you have been following my blog, however, you know that many things happened to change that; when you are bleeding, your first goal is to stop the flow.

Stopping the flow of pain in my life is easy. Always has been. I tried to avoid it because the side effects suck. Numbness. I feel no sadness, but happiness is lost to me as well except for fleeting moments.

Sigh.

The sad part is that I almost don't want it undone. I want to stay this mostly unfeeling and immovable person and not be affected by anything at all, but in this conversation with Edy, I sense God trying to bring me back home. Maybe Edy will be that channel.

I remember when I said there is a lot I keep inside. His immediate response was: "tell it to me."

It was nice to talk to him and know he cares. Now I wonder what to do, but only mildly. Mostly because the walls have already gone up. Automatic defenses set up to "protect" myself. It's like blocking by sense instead of by sight. That's where I am: I instinctively put a barrier on front of things that irritate me on any level. My mind and heart and bonded into an impenetrable fortress. No one can reach me without my consent.

This was supposed to be good.