My Newest (not so) Secret.

So I have a suspicion.

Its sort of unfounded.

I think my parents have found my blog and are reading it.
Why do I think this?

• Well I talk to them about the blogging community and have even suggested that they read some of them before I had a blog of my own.
• Four days after posting THIS, my dad pulled me aside. He asked me if I had been upset on that Sunday, and then proceeded to address every issue, as listed in my post.
• I have caught my mother on several occasions reading random people's blogs. Never Gay-Mormon blogs. I know I'm paranoid, but at the top of everyone's blog there is a button that says "next blog" and if she were to be on a Moho blog, and heard me comming into the room, she could easily hit that and end up at a random person's blog.
• My dad knows things about my life that I haven't shared with him, but have with the blog-o-sphere (i.e. my Pride experience.)

So why haven't I just addressed it with them? Well there is a good chance I'm out of line and imagining this all. I don't want to accuse them unjustly, and then plant the idea in my head. I mean frankly I'm so blunt and honest in my blog because I think they don't read it. I don't have to sugar coat anything for them. I can share how I really feel about them. (Although the past couple of weeks its been all positive feelings anyway.)

But if you guys are reading this, I'm actually pretty happy about this. The fact that you would have to go out of your way to find it, and that you are no longer ignoring this part of my life is huge. It would mean that you actually care about me, and not solely what the Church says. I love you mom, and dad, with all my heart. You guys have been excellent parents and have done your very best to raise me. I take responsibility for my actions. My thoughts, ideas and beliefs are my own.

I really want to know though if you are reading this... so I can only think of one way to find out...



I don't think you'll be able to let this go with out some discussion....

Curiosity Almost Killed Me

I hated those sheep! I hated every wooly fiber of their bodies. But my feelings did not stop me from begging to go with my brother, Curtis, to feed those dumb sheep. The late night trip, in the shivering-cold weather, to the pasture was more than frightening to my little seven-year-old-imaginative-mind, but fear slowly vanished at the thought of getting to spend time with my brother. I got a flashlight too, and what fear can stand up to a flashlight?
I had never gone to the pasture at night before and that little plastic flashlight was the only thing that would be able to help me cope with my deathly fear of the dark. It was a window to my imagination, and my source of comfort.
When I got out of the car I knew that I would have to stay in the pasture all by myself with the enemies while Curt went into the barn to get the sheep food. I was terrified. I could see the moon reflecting off of their extremely white coats, but their beauty did not fool me. I knew they had it in for me.
I clung to the flashlight waiting to see what those four sheep might try to do next. Sneak attack? Surround me? Anything was possible, so it was just best to always be on guard. I tried so hard to stay out of their way and pray that they would stay out of mine. I’m not sure what compelled me to do what I did next, but I suspect that curiosity just got the best of me. I spotlighted the sheep with my flashlight.
You would never be able to see them unless you knew where to look, but all up and down my body I have numerous scars. You never know how much damage a hoof can do until sixteen of them run over the top of you and pierce your skin. Luckily I faint pretty easy, so most of the experience I can’t remember, but its what followed that is most important to me. I awoke in the arms of my brother who was crying and screaming at me to wake up. All the pain I felt then disappeared in a sense. Nothing mattered. It took me a second to even figure out why he was crying at all.
Those scars to me do not remind me of pain, or dark memories that accompany some people’s scars. They are permanent reminders to me about the love that my brother had, has, and always will have, for me.

Feel Proud.

This past weekend was Pride here in Phoenix, AZ.

(Yes I know it wasn't in June which is really weird. But its freaking HOT in June here in Phoenix! So rather than commemorating the 6/28/69 Stonewall Riots like typical Prides, we had it the day after the National Day of Silence. Kind of a cute idea I thought; to have like this huge celebration right after a day of protest.)

This was my first Pride, and it was crazy!

I wore a t-shirt and jeans. I was way too dressed up. There was a drag queen in a full ball gown and feather boa, and she was possibly the only person there wearing more clothing than me.

There was a parade that was SUPER long. It started out very slow, but by the end everyone was super excited... and hungry.

The festival itself had many, many, booths set up. Everyone was shopping and and grabbing their share of free merchandise. Condoms were abundant.

Some of the local gay clubs had set up two big dance floors as well. It was as close to Queer As Folk's Babylon as I could imagine.

Was it worth the fifteen bucks? Absolutely. Will I go again? Most likely. Was it everything I expected? No.

Like I've said, yes, there were nearly naked drunk boys running around handing out condoms and dancing quite provocatively. But it wasn't entirely the big party scene I had envisioned. Instead there was something cooler that I saw. There were Gay and Lesbian couples there with their children. It was sort of a family event. Families were eating meals together and playing in the grassy areas. Displaying genuine family values.

I hope that someday that will be me.



By the way.... In conjunction with this post, congrats GQ. Much better job on the May issue.

I'm So Lucky!

I really am.

I have an unbelievable family. It seems that I only whine about the times that they make me want to cry and go away but in actuality they are amazing.

This weekend a friend of mine stayed with me. A gay friend. My parents were very cool about it. I could tell that it was very awkward for them, but they let him stay there and were very gracious hosts. My parents are really trying to understand and accept who I am. I'm so thankful for this. This weekend they actually took a step to support me. They are amazing.

My mom was concerned that my siblings wouldn't be as understanding and supportive, so in an effort to eliminate drama, she suggested that we cancel our standard Sunday-Family-Dinner while my guest was in town. I got really upset without thinking. I just kept imagining Christmas parties and Thanksgiving dinner being canceled years down the road when I get married, so that mom could shield the family from my gayness. Never did I think about how my mom was really trying to protect me from my siblings.

So Sunday-Family-Dinner went on as usual. I am so glad that it did. I think it was eye opening for everyone. My friend played with the little ones, helped my sisters out, and joined in conversations. My family's reaction to him was more than I could have hoped for. They were genuinely kind and appreciative of him. They never interrogated him but instead spoke to him as if he was one of the family from the moment that they walked in the door.

I have friends that have been disowned for being gay. I have other friends who's families have sent them to psych wards or treatment centers to stop the gayness. I even have a friend who's own brother has tried to kill him for being gay.
Yet all I tend to focus on are my friends who have amazingly understanding supportive families, and whine about the fact that my family isn't quite there yet. But the fact of the matter is they do love me. They love me so much that they are concerned they won't get to spend the rest of eternity with me. As unfounded as this worry of theirs is, it shows that they really do care about me. That's something huge.

In June I'm moving away to Seattle, WA. I’m not running away. I didn’t wait, move away, and then inform the family of my plans for my future. I’m not moving away to avoid or escape my family. It is time though, for me to get away. I can't live under my parents' roof for ever. I need to be an independent decision maker. School has given me the opportunity to do so. The plan is to do one year at Seattle Central, become a Washington State resident in that year, then transfer to University of Washington. The campus is beautiful, they have a great psychology program, and its about 1,555 miles from my house.

My parents are not excited about this idea. They would like me to live at the house forever and keep me out of trouble. I'm think I'm pretty lucky that they still want me around.

Why???

Today has been one of the most stressful and exciting days of my life.

I'll never forget it.

At moments I was happier than I ever have been.

I experienced a pain I never imagined that I would.

I was accepted.

And rejected.

I feel like crying, but the tears won't come.

I can't keep the smile off of my face.


Is this what it's like to be bi-polar?

Check This Hand Cause I'm Marvelous

TODAY is SUCH a GOOD day!

First of all, I got my taxes paid! I feel like a real American!

I got the biggest Dr. Pepper that Wendy’s could offer!

I mailed off my transcripts!

I was late to every class today (I still got my favorite seat and missed no notes), but was actually early to work!

I’m looking forward to the rest of this week! Forbidden! Pride! Visitors! Yay!


But the best thing of all today….
I've always debated telling my dad's side of the family that I'm a fag. I mean I'm out, and not staying in the closet for anyone, but I just don't feel like telling them. If they hear rumors, I'll be honest with them.
Let me explain though. My father's side of the family is a little behind the times. Many of my cousins' trucks are adorned with the Confederate Flag and "gun control" might as well be a swear word. Not to mention, they are Mormon. Red neck and white trash are how they refer to themselves. I prefer to think of them as just closed-minded.
Well today my favorite cousin in the whole world gave me a call. I've been kind of ignoring her because I know that she has been very curious about why I'm not on a mission right now. Her and I have never kept any secrets from one another.... except my big one of course.
Today I called her back though.
We talked a lot about how I'm moving out of state in June. This lead her to ask how I was handling things with my family. She has seen how my family can be when people stray from "the straight and narrow". In order to explain everything I had to tell her.
First I made her promise to never tell any one what I was about to say. I got very dramatic about it. She promised of course and then I said it.
"Mellisa, I'm gay."
The line was silent for a few seconds and then she said,
"Austin, What if I were to say, 'no shit Sherlock'?"
I was able to exhale. She just laughed a little and then continued to say, "well you’re pretty cute so you'll do well out there."
We got a bit more serious after that and I explained why I didn't want to tell the rest of that side of the family. She, surprisingly, totally understood. She told me that no one needed to know. I didn't have to tell any one. I'm still Austin, the kid they all love so nothing really changes.
She told me multiple times that she is so proud of me she is and how brave I am to deal with something like this, especially in our family.
This is EXACTLY what I needed to hear from a family member.
I'm so ecstatic I cannot stop smiling!

Oh and Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” has played every single time I’ve gotten in the car. (That's were the title of this post comes from btw. I've got all the lyrics down now ;) Could it be any better?

Paper Cuts

My heart is racing. I hate all of this shit.
(I don’t expect anyone to read this long, vague at times, bitchy rant)

My sister: About 2 1/2 weeks ago I came home from my trip to find a letter in my room from my sister. I love her. She is about 12 years older than me. I have never been in a fight with her and have always admired her ability to keep calm in stressful situations. She's an analytical person and about the only one in my family that ISN'T outspoken. Which is why the letter came as such a shock.
I know that the letter was written out of love and came straight from her heart, but that is probably what makes it more painful. She told me she thinks there is a girl preparing herself for me and that I needed to move past the gay "struggles and trials" to prepare for this potential-wife. She also suggested that I spend the next two years on a "personal mission,” living within the Church's guidelines, to find out how I really feel about the Church and my sexuality. What does she think I was doing from the age 13 till I was 17?
I used the next week to pray about what to write back. I feel like I was able to convey how I feel and what I believe accurately and respectfully. I gave her my letter last Sunday. I still am waiting to see if she will reply at all.
She mentioned that the family could not support, understand, or be happy for the plans I have for my life. I'm disappointed that they can't support me or understand. More than that, I am hurt that they can’t be happy for me deciding to do what will make me truly happy. I have loved, supported, accepted, and been happy for them, their marriages and their families. I would like the same in return, but I don’t need it.
This has been a monumental shift in my thought process.

My best friend: Scott and I met my seventh grade year. We had to write biographies about one another in our English class. We hated each other. But by the time that the eighth grade rolled around we became inseparable. We both became racquetball posers and the biggest band geeks known to man. He became another child to my parents, brother to my siblings and attended numerous family functions. We have gone on road trips and spent weeks living at each others houses.
I mentioned here that I told Scott only recently that I'm a fag. He asked for 2 weeks to think things through. I was still on vacation when that two weeks ended. He texted me and told me that we needed to talk in person, so when I go home we set up a time when we could chill. He said that to make our friendship last I would need to never discuss the gay aspects of my life with him again. He went on to tell me that he was positive that being gay was a mindset I had created and chosen to be. I was near tears.
I looked at him and told him that I loved him as much as my own brother, but he couldn't say that being gay is a choice because he wasn't gay himself. He got really frustrated and told me what "God" thought of me and my decisions and then dropped me off with a, "I'm sorry it had to end like this."
He liked me better before he knew the real me.

JiM: I can’t really get into all of this, but in essence I can’t talk to my “Journey into Manhood brothers” anymore. I’m partially to blame for this rejection, but it didn’t justify the humiliation and embarrassment that director of JiM has put me through. I know I’m being vague. Sorry.

The ex: I got a 9 page letter from an ex-boyfriend of mine last week. The first two-thirds of the letter were an explanation of the negative feelings that he experienced during our relationship, when I broke up with him, and since then. He pointed out several areas that he feels that I have changed and “become a completely different person.”
The last third of the letter was spent telling about how he screwed me over and somehow he STILL managed to make me feel like it was my fault. I never want to see him again. My friends think this is the smart thing to do. Even with that kinda distance will he still be able to make me feel like shit?

My parents: Okay this is going to sound totally morbid and weird.
My parents got us all together tonight after family dinner tonight to discuss their Living Wills, Power of Attorneys, Family Trust, ect. They are perfectly healthy, but realize that they are getting older. They just wanted us all to know our roles.
First they discussed the Living Wills. My brother and oldest sister got put in charge of that. Cool. I’m not the decision maker on pulling the plug. I’m fine with that.
Then they discuss the Will. My other two sisters will be the financial distributers. Awesome, I’m not going to have responsibility over passing out the money and selling the house.
I’m the only child not in charge of anything. I can over look that. Who wants those duties anyway?
Then they discuss the Family Trust. I am the only child that cannot access any of the family money. That is till I am 30. If my parents were to die tonight, I would have no where to live. No money. No juvenile-provisions established. I immediately got anxious and privately went to talk to my parents about this. They got frustrated out of no where and told me that I was an adult now, going off to school out of state.
Yeah I’ll be out of state soon. We’ll see if I can afford to fly down for your funerals if I need to.

Bread Maker

I can still smell the fresh bread and feel the cold air rushing through the kitchen window and into our small house. It was always whole-wheat. I hate whole-wheat. But I loved the bread. I think that it might have been the fact that I knew that it was made out of love for me that made the starchy taste of red whole-wheat melt away. But it isn’t about the bread; it’s about the woman who made it.
I can still see the little 5’6’’ woman standing at the long kitchen counter humming a song (more than likely a church hymn) under her breath as she measures out some ingredient and adds it to the mix. Her smile would widen as I entered the kitchen in my footy pajamas and she would greet me with a, “Good morning handsome. How did you sleep?” I think that she truly cared and sincerely wanted to know if I had slept well or not. But that’s just who she is; a caring person.
My mother has a heart of gold. She has raised five kids all of whom will admit to being problem children. Under her watch the oldest four have stayed out of jail, contributed to society and all found spouses who have mellowed them out a bit. After the oldest four left the nest she became the on-call-24-7-nurse for her mother, and at the same time balanced her family and running a business out of the home. She taught me all about service and what it means to be a true friend. If I am guilty of not being a good person, it is my own fault, she is not the one to blame.
As a child my father worked a lot and it was my mother that raised me. Her strong will, charisma and stubbornness have become embedded in my character. Because of our similar dispositions we often find ourselves frustrated and discontent with the other over the smallest of disagreements.
She has struggled a lot over the past few months. Her dreams of me growing up, going on a mission and marring a beautiful girl in the temple have all been discarded. I get so easily frustrated that she won't give me the support that I need right now. I feel like she will come around.
In the current busyness of lives and the bad attitude that I so often have there aren’t many mornings like the ones of my youth. She no longer has the role of the playmaker in my life which is frustrating to her, but I will always be grateful for those early years. It was then that I learned who she was and what kind of a person I want to be. There will never be a time that I walk into a kitchen and I cannot still taste the bread or hear her say, “Good morning handsome. How did you sleep?”

Dear Elder Oaks,

The fact that the Church does not meet my needs, and that I realize that, does not make me self-centered. Why won't the Church just look at and address why it can't meet the needs of thousands of other men like me? Thanks

False Doctrine!

There is something magical that happens. It is a huge highlight for me. I even try to predict the day that it will occur. And it happens EVERY month.

No, I’m not talking about that creepy feminine phenomenon.

It is called GQ

I love getting mail, e-mail, comments, texts ect. because I feel like someone was thinking of me… Even if it is just my college reminding me to return a book to the library. ( I really do need to remember to return that.)

Specifically I love getting GQ though. It makes me super excited to go the gym that night. My rule is that first I have to get a good, hard run in... and then, I let myself just get on the elliptical while I read the new issue! Kind of a dorky way to do it, I guess, but hey, it's better than just sitting around and reading it, right?

I happened to be out of town on the day that the April issue hit the stands and my mail box. So as I walked thru a book store on my trip and saw this cover of GQ I nearly cried.

Beautiful, funny, smart, talented people have all graced the cover of GQ, and now there is this guy. A joke right? nope! He is really on there.

I know that not all of you back me on this. D. has even said that, “Everyone hated [the movie version of Twilight] but I think its because they are jealous of Edward! ;)”
Let me be clear. I am TOTALLY jealous of Edward. I am REVOLTED by Rob Pattinson.

My beautiful, color schemed, scriptures have been tainted.

Andy...

I haven’t stopped thinking about what he asked me yesterday. How do you know if God is blessing your life or if its coincidence? Is there even such a thing as coincidence? I thought I knew the answers to these questions, but as I tried to reply I realized how lost I was on this topic.

I proposed a few ideas such as praying or trying to feel the Spirit testify of God’s influence in such actions, but it didn’t feel like what I was saying was the WHOLE answer. Plus there is the whole idea of, “do things just happen, for no good reason”?

So we moved on that night and talked about other things, but I began to analyze the ensuing events of the night. Its amazing how many times I had to ask myself if some little thing had been said or done as coincidence, or if God had inspired that thing to be said or done. Were we a coincidence? Was what we were doing a coincidence? Or was that night just one big blessing?

I decided to look in a few places to see if anyone, with more authority on the subject, had anything to say on the topic. A simple Google search helped me to find what a modern day philosopher said. “Some may count experiences simply as a nice coincidence, but I testify that the tender mercies of the Lord are real and that they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence. I repeat again, the Lord’s tender mercies do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence.”

I took it a step further and searched for the word “coincidence” in the scriptures. Not one time in The Holy Bible does the word ever appear.

All this on top of personal experiences, I believe that there are no coincidences. That God does exist and love us. Sometimes He allows bad things to happen so that we can grow, become better people, and help others along the way. These trials may seem more than we can handle, “but God is faithful... [and will] make a way to escape, that [we] may be able to bear it” (1 Cor. 10:13). He provides us with blessings and tender mercies. These are his gifts to us so that this insanely chaotic life can be a bit easier; that we may bear our trials.