Let your heart sing

This afternoon the Denver Gay Men's Chorus kicked off AIDS Walk Week with a free concert at St. Matthew's Episcopal church. Over 50 people were in attendance, and at least half of them were straight members of the congregation at St. Matt's. For those who didn't attend, you have missed a truly beautiful event.

This was the first time the choir has performed in Wyoming, first in Cheyenne last night and then today here in town. It was a phenomenal performance, and the music was outstanding. There was also a talk-back session after the show, and the opening of hearts and minds was so moving.

Today my message is an extension of something echoed throughout the day: be yourself. Find the song inside and let it out, whether it's an actual song or not.

Oh...and get your bitch asses to the rest of AIDS Walk events this week. www.wyoaidswalk.org

Sometimes it's good to go home

I am spending today in the junior high here in town. I'm doing a dramatic interp of Romeo's soliloquy at the grave for 9th graders. My former mentor teacher tracked me down and asked me to come do the presentations, as she remembered my flair for the dramatic. (I know...shocking, isn't it?) I must say, I'm having a blast. I'm also having flashbacks...vocab reviews, grammer pre-tests...I'm remembering not only performing these tasks as a student, but also as a teacher! While some things have changed, some have also stayed the same. The 9th graders seemed somewhat awed that I have memorized "a whole speech" in about a week, and terrified that they must do the same in 2 weeks. Heh. Faculty and staff here at LJHS have recognized me too, and have been excited to see me in the halls again. It's nice to feel welcome...and remembered...and appreciated. :) 8th hour today (wow...did I just say that?) Princess Pink will be sitting in on my presentation, so she can play speech geek and point out all my flubs and foibles. Damn. The 9th graders don't see the little errors in polish and poise, but she will. And when she points them out to me, I shall lay down the proverbial smack upon her ass. And not in that way she likes it. ;)

Fun thoughts

Check out www.northernsun.com. I think the usual readers will want to whip out the wallet, and purchase some of their wares. Some thoughts from posters, t-shirts, or buttons:

• God was my copilot, but we crashed in the mountains and I had to eat him.
• Religion is for people afraid of going to hell, spirituality is for people who have already been there.
• Assist airport security: FLY NAKED!
• If the definition of beautiful gets any thinner, no one will fit.
• I love my country, but I think we should start seeing other people.
• Humans aren't the only species on Earth, we just act like it.
• Nuke a godless communist gay baby seal for Christ.
• What if the hokey pokey IS what it's all about?
• Who would Jesus bomb?
• Join the Army. Travel to exotic, distant lands, meet exciting, unusual people and kill them.
• Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes.
• I think, therefore I am dangerous.

More shall be posted later. There are also great ones that require visuals. Seriously. Go. NOW, BITCHES!

In all things, balance

So in the midst of a very difficult week, the Universe decided to provide the balance that is essential, and ever-present (even if we don't care to notice it). Some wonderful friends came into my life from San Diego. Five of them, to be exact. And this is a happy thing. Certainly not a replacement for those already in my life, but something new to add to the tapestry. And can one ever have TOO MANY friends? Today's lesson: even in the midst of the pain, the Universe will provide balance, we just have to pay attention to it.

Bump, Set, Spike

It has already been a VERY long week for The Grand High Poobah of Gayness, for reasons I'm not yet at liberty to discuss. And so it is with great pleasure I announce that my volleyball league is again starting up for the Spring. Tuesday and Thursday nights I will be doing a poor imitation of Sporty Gay Spice at the Rec Center. Fans and cheerleaders are always welcome, contact me for a definite schedule (which we hope to have tonight). While I mourn the loss of Thursday night TV (though there will no doubt be some weeks where our team doesn't have a Thursday night game), I am very glad for the return to additional activity, and one of the few sports where I have some skill or talent. A happy thing is much needed, too. So if I'm tired or irritable for a bit, please bear with me. While I can't explain now (and appreciate you not asking), please know it's nothing personal.

It's made from what?!

Paper! That's right. Today I purchased a real book. Made from paper even. Contrary to popular belief, they are still produced, and not just in the textbook variety. For example, today I purchased "The Chronicles of Narnia." Somehow, I never managed to actually read it when I was younger. And since there is a major motion picture in the works based on said tome, I thought it important to read it before I see a film version. And I realized, it's been a while since I was so excited over a book. The latest Harry Potter book, I'm certain. And so my advice to everyone is to go out and buy a new book. Or borrow one from a friend. Or visit the library. Find something that isn't for class, a research paper, or work. Find something fun, and READ. Now I must continue this trend, and go reserve a copy of the new Harry Potter, due out this summer. Exercise your brains folks!

This, Mr. Falwell, is why

I received a phone call yesterday. A friend needed advice, as one of his employees had come out to him. And was suicidal. Very suicidal. He had changed his bank account to his parents names, showing planning and forethought. He asked my friend "Please don't ever tell my parents, no matter what." Needless to say, my friend - who is remarkably open and well-trained on GLBT issues - was a bit shaken. He was making the requisite referrals and phone calls to the Counseling Center, but wanted to know more about specific issues with GLBT individuals and suicide. So we went over coming out, the suicide info I have wedged in my brain, and specific strategies for coping and triggers to watch out for. I had forgotten how draining a 30 minute phone call could be.

When I hung up, I stepped out of crisis intervention mode...and the tidal wave of emotions hit me. I was defeated, as this was someone who had been through a panel discussion in the past. I worried about what I could have said differently...what more I could have done to let this kid know he's okay. I felt hope, because in some ways, the system worked. My friend knew the signs to watch out for, knew how to talk to the kid, and knew where to turn for more help. I felt proud, because my friend felt he could call me and trust me to have something helpful for him. But mostly, I was pained, as I know what it's like to hate yourself so much you want nothing more than for your life to end. And I never want anyone to experience that again. And that's where the anger began.

Anger at a society and culture that allows messages about the low self-worth of GLBT people to go unchallenged. Anger at religious leaders who either remain silent, or rail against the sinful evilness of human beings with beautiful souls. Souls with only one "crime" on their record: loving someone a dogma says is the "wrong" person. So this person, Mr. Falwell, is why I believe you are dangerous. This young person, ready to end his own life, is why I stand up against you so vehemently, Mr. Phelps. This struggling soul is why I speak out, speak up, and will continue to do so until death silences me, Mr. Bush. Your intolerance and ignorance is killing him, and thousands like him. STOP YOUR LETHAL CAMPAIGN OF HATRED AND DENEGRATION. As the tears form in my eyes, my fists also clench in rage.

The drought has ended

And the peasants rejoiced.

(semi) irrational fear

It was years ago. I should be over this. But it's dark. There was a moon...almost full. I can see it, but there's no light down here on the back streets of the place I call home. There doesn't seem to be anyone moving tonight. Except, there's this feeling. That I'm being watched. As I walk to my car, I look over my shoulder. Continually. I must just be paranoid, right? A dark night, lonely streets, a chill in the air...it's the stuff of fiction. And thrillers. And you know what happens in thrillers. Just how far away is that damned car? It happened to him. What if I'm next? Or one of my friends? And then I hear it...there IS something there. I know it. Look now...dammit, I'm hearing things again. My brain is working overtime. I really AM getting paranoi... There is a moment of paralyzation. I can turn around, but my feet won't move and my arms are dead weight. My heart has stopped, I'm certain. My brain recognizes the shape...matches it with a picture in my brain. Sign, signifier, signified. My consciousness receives the message so slowly: not a threat. Just a person on a bike. Not headed for me. Not stalking me. My lungs start working just a beat after my heart. I'm still tense, but that probably the adrenaline, right? Take stock...I'm okay. Start walking again. Who knew a few blocks could be so far? But...I feel ashamed. Why am I still so damned nervous? It doesn't happen all the time. But once in a while... All this because I couldn't get the car in time to drive to an AIDS Walk Meeting.

Post 101: Gay Hope

Sometimes in SafeZone I give a group homework: delete the most important person in your life for one week. Put them in a closet, and you might get a taste of what it's like for GLBT people on a daily basis. A recent participant wrote me recently, and had this to say:

I am writing to tell you that I tried your suggestion, to not speak in gender specific terms for one week. I chose my husband to cut out of my life, and starting (and ending) the following day, I spoke of him as "my partner," "my roommate," "my friend," etc. I was quite unsuccessful, and outed myself at least five times in as many hours. I stopped to visit [him] at his office that afternoon, and when I was leaving, I shook his hand, and he said, "Don't I even get a hug?" He had forgotten about my experiment. I answered quietly, "No, we're in public. I'll hug you when you get home." He laughed and said okay, but it bothered me. It bothered me all the rest of the afternoon, through dinner, through class, and on my drive home. I was afraid I had hurt him. and that hurt me. I was even thinking things like "What if he has an accident, and I DIDN'T HUG HIM WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE?!" I thought, would it have hurt to just give him a quick hug? That's when it hit on me, that's when I *truly got it.* I understood the idea behind it, I sympathize, I fight for GLBT rights, but now I KNOW. actually feeling it, even for just a little while was way different. Even though I knew it was just an experiment, not for my whole life, I *still* felt awful. I spoke with my friend back in Chicago about it, and she said she also feels resentment when she can't acknowledge her partner at work. Very interesting experiment, and it works!

Post 100! - Black Monday Recap

I normally celebrate Villain-tine's Day, as a protest of happy couples in the face of my singleness. Today I did something different: I delivered for Killian's Florist instead. Since the numbered lists have been in vogue of late on the Blogsphere, I thought I'd join in the merry-making.

10.5 - number of hours I was a gay florist
59 - number of stops I made today
65 - number of orders I delivered
4 - number of runs I made
2 - number of times I got lost and had to call for directions
8 - number of orders I couldn't get delivered, because people weren't home
136 - total number of orders we delivered today
0 - number of minutes I spent depressed because I'm single (too damned busy!)
2 - number of gin and tonics I had while swapping war stories after the chaos ended

Shallow fucking graves

As many of you have already heard, there is a certain professor with whom I am...annoyed. Okay, outright fucking pissed is a bit closer. Fuming mad. I even used the term "You fucking cunt" in my office with the door open, so those of you who know me will understand just how livid I am. I have spent the last two days making myself sick with the stress of dealing with her. I have decided to be more creative and that I should express my frustration in more cathartic ways. So I give you a short list of the gruesome tortures I have designed for her in my brain. To the pain, and FUCKING EXCOMMUNICATED INDEED!

• Hundreds of tiny paper cuts, lemon juice, tobasco, and cayenne pepper
• Drawn and quartered by 4X4 pickup trucks and barbed wire
• Fire ants and sugar syrup
• Dinner with George W. Bush (I know it seems cruel and unusual, but she has asked for it)
• A super high voltage butt plug (though this would require removing the stick from her ass first)
• Spraying her coat with bobcat lure and sending her hiking
• A small, smoky room and a hive of hornets
• A leisurely swim in a mountain lake. Above tree line. In January.
• An international flight in a small airplane with a Urugauyan rugby team
• A free box of Krusty Brand Cereal, with a free jagged metal Krusty-O in every box!
• Injection of a tiny air bubble in the vein of her choice
• Relaxing river trip in Georgia, CD of free banjo music included!
• A no-expenses paid trip to sunny Lebanon!
• A brown recluse spider in the bowl she uses to get that oh-so-stylish haircut!
• A mambo. Oops...I meant black mamba! Silly me.

See, I feel better now. Don't you? What lesson have we learned, class? Don't fuck with a pissed off queen!

Hope...

...for the Legislature is not lost! I received an email today telling me that HB0184 (The Defense of Marriage Act) was dead in committee. Not one to believe rumors on important issues, I went to the Wyoming Legislature homepage, with which I am becoming quite familiar. The current digest listing reads "No report before CoW (Committee of the Whole) cutoff." I spent about an hour tonight reading through the website, scouring state statutes, and trying to decipher this little phrase. I don't have a definitive answer, but it sounds like the rumors are true, and marriage is still safe from those purporting to "defend" it. Tomorrow I'll be calling the Legislative Hotline to confirm. Cross your fingers and put the champagne on ice...I have.

The Wyoming Legislature at Work

Fun or otherwise interesting bills that have been proposed already in the Wyoming legislature:

SF 0016 - Would provide $9.5M for a multi-level parking garage at UW
SF 0126 - Would limit semi's to 65 on interstates

HB 0004 - Would make the Jackalope Wyoming's official mythical creature
HB 0008 - Would significantly increase (almost double across the board) the minimum auto insurance amounts in Wyoming
HB 0082 - Would allow for electronic sales of hunting and fishing licenses, stamps, etc.
HB 0163 - Would establish a state lottery
HB 0170 - Would prevent lawsuits against folks like McDonald's if you gain weight and/or die
HB 0184 - Defense of Marriage act. (GRRR!)
HB 0192 - Would prohibit harassment, intimidation, or bullying in Wyoming schools (Woohoo!)
HB 0261 - Would establish common law, but only for one man and one woman
HB 0276 - Would severely limit abortion services in Wyoming
HB 0298 - Would permit most Wyoming citizens to wear a concealed weapon without a permit

What others are you interested in? http://legisweb.state.wy.us/2005/billsInfo.htm

Personal Responsibility

I know I will be showing my age with this post, but I'm pissed and am willing to be old for the sake of venting. My mother taught me about owning up to my mistakes, and taking the blame when I fuck up. Apparently, this is a concept that is lost on today's society.

You see, someone hit my car today. Yes, my beautiful Georgina has been injured! Hit and run is the technical term. They took out the driver's side mirror. At high speed, as evidenced by the 40 or 50 foot stream of mirror guts left on the side of Grand Ave. She was parked as close to the curb as possible, since I actually drove up on the curb at one point when parking.

No note, no phone call, no clue who did it. The replacement part (mandated by state law - you MUST have a mirror) is over $400 by itself...before labor fees. Just what I need now.

On the up side, I got random flowers from a friend today. No reason, no purpose...just something to make me smile. Couldn't have come at a better time. And so I show my age when I say "I remember the good ol' days, when people fessed up to their mistakes, and were honest when they hit someone's car." Time for cocktails, I think.

We still have a dream

First, props to Mandy, as her birthday is tomorrow too. However, tomorrow we celebrate the life of Martin Luther King, Jr. Synonymous with the civil rights movement, he stood for equality for all, including yours truly. In fact, one of his right hand men was queer. Read up on Bayard Rustin if you didn't know that. His widow has repeatedly spoken out about the need for GLBT equality too. Make no mistake about it, Coretta Scott King is still fighting hard to ensure everyone is treated as a whole person.

Today there are many of us who continue the fight for equality. There are many of us who recognize that all struggles for equality are connected, and that even though I appear to be white, or male, or non-Christian, I am still affected by racism, sexism, or religious discrimination.

Dr. King, your dream is still alive. Thank you for the courage it took to envision it. To articulate it. And to peacfully start enacting it. May we all continue where you and countless others have left off, all too soon.

Can I sleep soon?

It is Thursday night. I have already put in 44 hours of work this week. Only 6 hours of that was from home. I will put in 9 hours in the office tomorrow. And who knows how many from home. This is why I hate the beginning of a semester. I can only hope I have not taken out my exhaustion and frustration on my friends.

But tomorrow there is bowling. And a 3 day weekend, over which there shall be my drinking and sluggery.

You know you missed me

So as promised, I'm eeking out a few minutes to post today, though it has been a shamefully long time since I have done so. Hey...I've been busy. Which brings us to today's topic: where in the fuck was the vacation that's supposed to come with a break? Between weddings, candle parties, New Year's parties, moving pottery shops, and hosting the international fam-damn-ily, I'm not sure which end is up anymore. I cleaned. I decorated. I took pictures. I ran errands. I DJ'd. I un-decorated, though just a bit compared to others. I bought garters, for fuck's sake! ME! Captain "I like penises and girls have cooties" bought garters. For a girl! Well, a bride, so that makes it all better.

The leftovers are FINALLY starting to dwindle. I'm sick of cheese cubes and tortilla soup. Tonight I'm cooking steak and curling up with the season premiere of Alias. Oh...and cheese cubes. And tortilla soup. Kill me now! I'm quite certain that I was supposed to have some down time over break, but that didn't seem to happen. If I wasn't so damned busy at work right now, I would consider taking some vacation time to recover from the holidays. The good news: 1) The wedding and reception were amazing, and I don't regret the effort, time, or labor that went into them. Mark and Tessa are worth it. (It also helps that they knew how much was done, and were honestly appreciative.) 2) The pictures should be ready today or tomorrow. 3) I didn't actually have to kill the kids, no matter how much I wanted to at times. 4) The house has almost recovered from 2 weeks of prep work, parties, and people plopped on pillows in the living room. 5) It's over. 6) I can sleep when I'm dead?

I love you all, and wish you the best in the new year. Here we go, kiddies!

Brace yourselves for a very gay post

So I've (again) noticed a semi-interesting phenomenon of late. When one has been without physical companionship for certain length of time, the requirements for that which is visually appealing seem to lessen. In laymen's terms, when you haven't gotten any in far too long, a good stiff breeze can turn you on. I think there's even a corollary which states the longer it's been, the lower your standards go.

Now at first this was an amusing thought in my head only, as I found myself saying "Well, I could go there. It's not so bad." Then I was introduced to someone's boyfriend at the grocery store. As Mandy and I walked inside I commented "Ooo...he's CUTE." She stopped short and looked at me, wailing "Noooooo!" and shaking her head for emphasis. Now, I admit that it's possible we having differing tastes in some men, but generally we agree. (Brad Pitt is mine, Man, so back off, bitch!) And that's when I knew it was true:

I'm reaching desperation. You bitches better find me a man and soon. Your Empress has spoken. What are you doing still reading? Get out there and get me a boyfriend! Go! Now! Faster, dammit!

Are we there yet?

I know...you were expecting yet ANOTHER rant about 20/20. Nope. I've done that on the radio, Channel 5, the papers, and Spectrum website. So what's on my mind today, you ask? "Are we fucking there yet?!" The end of the semester, I mean.

I've been busting ass at work for 2 weeks solid, and I'm sick of it. Proposals, budgeting, new policies, new jobs. BLAH! I've been doing several panels and presentations this semester too. I have too many bills this month, and not enough income. Plus, there are holiday presents to make or obtain. So I better be artsy crafty this year, as I can't afford gifts for all. *sigh* I'm just...apathetic about it all, I think.

And I know I'm not alone here. I've talked with several of the visitors to the Rainbow Kingdom who are in the same mood/funk. We just want it done with. School, work...everything. The weather has turned cold suddenly, ending a peaceful feeling and making it difficult for us tree-hugging dirt worshippers to escape into nature without frostbite or hypothermia.

I want the Fall colors back. I want to go for long drives in the country and mountains, taking pictures of Mother Earth's splendor. Instead, I wrap my scarf tightly around my neck and trundle about campus in the gusting and icy wind. So I say again...ARE WE THERE YET? I want a drink of water. She's on my side. She's looking at me. How far?