I'm SO gay this week

I know, "as opposed to any other week." This week I have a total of 4 panels for classes, with another one on Monday. Women's Studies x3 and a Nurse Practitioner class, then Counselor Ed on Monday. My boss makes it very difficult to be out of the office this much, and it means I work straight (har har) through lunch. Or rather, I use my lunch hour to go be the token homo. On the one hand, this is a raging pain in the ass and reminds me why I am so disgusted with my job these days. Sometimes you just don't feel like walking into a room full of strangers and telling them your deepest darkest secrets and how tough it was growing up queer. Tired of being on display.

And yet, there's the other hand - the reason I will ALWAYS do the panels. I've already had a few people come up to me and thank me (and the other panelists too) for sharing our stories. Some of them have looked at things in a new way. Some of them now understand better what happened to Matt, despite the lies running through the local rumor mill and 20/20. There have also been one or two students in the classes who I caught averting their eyes at just the right moment, and I know they are the student I was as a freshman: the scared, closeted person aching to come out but not yet ready to make that terrifying first step.

And that's what it's all about for me. Making the world a safer place for my fellow queers. For those who can't fight the fight yet. For those who've lost the fight along the way. For the junior high student in California shot in the head because he started wearing makeup and dressing more effeminately. For his parents, who this week decided to donate his organs so that others might live where hate ended his life too soon. Nobody should have to make that decision because of hate.

I speak out because I can. It's safe for me to do so. Or rather, it's safeR for me to do so. I'm 6'4" and too many pounds, and no longer have to fear losing family or friends or jobs if I shoot my mouth off. There's still danger, as I paint a target on myself by telling a room full of strangers I like the boys! But it's a risk I take, because someone must.

Today's lesson: speak up or out about something if you can. Make the world a better place for someone else, just because it's the right thing to do. Create change. Open minds... even if it's your own.

The scariest man running...

"I believe it is a lot easier to change the Constitution than it would be to change to the word of the living God, and that’s what we need to do is to amend the Constitution so it’s in God’s standards rather than change God’s standards." – Mike Huckabee - January 14, 2008

Apparently, Huckabee has decided not to campaign on the "Separation of Church and State" platform. I know, not really news, but this is one of the most frightening things I have ever heard a politician say publicly. Perhaps what is so frightening is that there is a large percentage of the U.S. population who not only agree, but would see nothing wrong with the statement.

Folks, if we follow the last 8 years of blunders, lies, and hatred with this nimrod, I'm burning down the house, quitting my job, and selling my car to buy a ticket to Holland. I'll live on my sister's couch before I go through this guy. I suppose I could live with McCain. I don't know that I care if it's Hillary or Obama, as long as we're done with Republican asshats. (Please note I am not stating all Republicans are asshats.)

Today's lesson: I will come and personally kick the ass of any of my friends who don't VOTE this year. I don't care who it's for, just flipping VOTE!

PS...did I mention I'll be wearing my size 14, 6-inch high heels when I kick your ass?

I laughed so hard a little pee came out...

(2 points if you can tell me where the title comes from.)

I don't often post videos, but these gems are too good to pass up. Thanks to my office aide Janet for letting me know about the hi-larious bits of The Colbert Report I had missed. I watch The Daily Show on Comedy Central religiously, but only catch Colbert once in a while. I missed gay gold, kiddies! The first segments of his new bit "Better Know a Lobbyist" focused on the Executive Director of the Human Rights Campaign.

They are the largest GLBT political action committee in the country. While I don't always agree with their methods, philosophies, or strategies, I believe they do good work and accomplish a lot of good things. And their ED hit this interview out of the park. It does a GREAT job of showing just how ridiculous some anti-gay arguments have been in recent times. Tip of the hat to Colbert, as well!

It's 2 parts, and they're both worth it. I've embedded them below and hope you enjoy! (If YouTube pulls these specific links/uploads, just search for "Colbert" and "Lobbyist.")

It's official...

...I think I might live. The new super-antibiotic seems to be kicking in nicely. I figured it would, since it involves taking one pill a day for only 7 days. Beefy, no? The steroid is also doing its job, as I'm not nearly as vertigo-y as I was. Sorry Uncle Freddy, this here homo isn't hell-bound just yet. ;) In other news...

• I have a hawt date tonight with the Squid. Dinner and a movie, since theater tickets didn't pan out.
• Tomorrow we're celebrating Maggie's birthday. There are rumors of sushi. I think by then all my taste buds and olfactory receptors will be functioning, and it will be a happy celebration of her aging and my recovery. She reportedly reads my blog, but is a dirty lurker. So I'm calling her out publicly. Heh.
• I filed my taxes today, and 5 hours later got an email that Uncle Sam accepted my demands...er...paperwork. The refund should allow me to pay off the last of the medical bills...and hopefully fix the hot tub!
• The Matthew Shepard Foundation's annual "Bear to Make A Difference" Dinner is coming up at the end of March. I've volunteered as a table captain again this year (as has Cory!), and my table is filling up nicely. Squidly and the O'Malleys will be with me, as will Jerry! Scotty and Craig are rumored to be interested in coming again this year too, so it should be quite the table of hooligans. If you're interested in coming, let me know. Tickets are $175, though $150 of that is tax deductible. :)
• I've burned through too much sick leave in the last month to be able to deliver flowers on Villain-tine's Day this year. This saddens me greatly, but I'm gonna help out down at the shop after hours whenever I can. I still want to be able to claim being a gay florist one day out of the year!

That's about it for the Rainbow Kingdom update. Join us again soon for my next FAB-ulous rant or rave. Or both. ;)

Things I've learned while being sick

It is true, the Squid is a carrier of plague. I don't hold it against her, though. ;) Here are some things I've learned while I was sick:

• There are 6 episodes of Murder She Wrote on each weekday. I can watch 5 of them.
• Cough syrup with codeine is a happy thing.
• It doesn't take long before you've consumed enough orange juice that you don't ever want to drink it again. I reached that point after 1 gallon. I am almost done with gallon #4.
• I am not a fan of the blanket NyQuil throws over my brain. I am a fan of the sleep I can get thanks to the Big Q.
• My muscles ACHE from all the coughing.
• I miss being able taste things.
• It doesn't take long before you're tired of sitting upright so that you can breathe. Sleeping in this position is equally tiresome.

I am, however, getting better and expect to be at work tomorrow. And I still love the Squid. :) Thanks to all who have sent good wishes, delivered dinner (heart you Jess, get better soon!), or otherwise made me smile since contracting the plague. It means a lot!

My weekend has meaning!

The Universe is telling me to recharge my gay batteries. Imagine my glee when I woke up today and discovered that I'm watching sports this weekend. I even called C in Denver to let him know, as I know he'd be proud. It's time to watch the National Championships, ladies and gentlemen. Of US Figure Skating!

If you didn't know I was THIS gay, you haven't been paying attention. This afternoon NBC is showing the pairs and dance freestyle finals. Tonight is the ladies freestyle. Tomorrow night, the men take the ice. Sponsored by Smuckers and ADT Home Security. I was trying to explain how exciting this is to Squid over IM, though I don't know that I gayed her up enough to care much. I even wrote her a quick poem:

Repeat after me class...
Toe loop, salchow, axel, lutz.
Camel spin, sit spin, don't be a putz.
Double, triple, then a quad.
Hot men in spandex with rockin' bods.

To learn more about figure skating jumps, click here. To follow the championships online, click here.

So why is that we gay men love figure skating? I can only speak for myself, but I remember watching skating with my mom. The Olympics were favorite times, as she and I got to spend time together. Watching the pageantry and elegance. The fantastic costumes and the intritcate choreography. Timed perfectly to all sorts of music. There was drama and tension. And there were stories.

In just one hour today, I've heard about skaters who have overcome lung cancer and watched the final couple in the pairs competion as he proposed...just after they finished skating and before they had their scores. They won the silver medal. I listened as they explained the couple who won today in their first appearance in the senior nationals, won last year in the first appearance in the junior nationals. No couple has ever done that. People skating with injuries. Examples of good sportsmanship. Overcoming incredible odds to be there. Dedicating a performance to someone who didn't live long enough to see it themselves.

There are records set, and sometimes perfection. But most of the time, it's the struggle for perfection. That's why Mom and I loved it so much. We related. We fall short, but sometimes...it's perfect and moving and beyond description. It's watching people create new things. Dick Button, the "old guy" who comments on skating most of the time, was the first person to land a triple jump in competition back in 1952. Kurt Browning, one of my favorite male skaters, landed the first quad in 1988.

They're amazing athletes, requiring gymnastic skill, flawless balance, impressive stamina, AND artistic ability. Performance and showmanship. Determination and pageantry.

So what's so hard to understand? It's about the essence of being a gay man. And there's men in tight clothing. And many of them are gay. And there are sequins. And hair stylists. And over the top makeup. Feathers. And people who can follow a beat. Yeah. TOTALLY GAY. And totally FABulous. This weekend I'll be watching TV with my mom. I'm sure she's still watching. She wouldn't let a little thing like death keep her from this mother - gay son bonding time, even if it wasn't okay that I was gay. Watching figure skating with her WAS.

Anyone wanna buy me a trip package to the Worlds in LA? ;) Oh...and C's response was "You're a mess."

And they're off...

The semester is out of the gate, and off to a blazing start. Things are racing at a mile a minute, and it doesn't show signs of slowing. There are conferences to plan for March, presentations to make tomorrow, meetings to schedule...and that's just for PACMWA! Work is busy this time of year with schedule changes, interviews, and too much paperwork. Coming up soon we have birthdays, superbowls, and other such merriment. There's a house to get fixing on, and a hot tub to get fixed! So much to do, so little energy to do it...

Left foot, right foot...repeat as needed.

A dance down memory lane

Pardon my long-windedness, but this post is worth reading, I promise. In fact, I ask that you read it as a personal favor to me.

So tonight I find myself at home crocheting and watching "Small Town Gay Bar," a documentary released in 2006 by Malcolm Ingram. (And produced by Kevin Smith, who just took yet another leap forward on my list of heroes.) It ran on Showtime - the reason I got satellite. It documents the history of 2 gay bars in northeastern Mississippi. There's a lot of it that is eerily familiar.

The first is in Shannon, MS (pop. 1657). My hometown was around 1400. The second is in Meridian, MS (pop. 39,968), birthplace of Fred Phelps. Phelps was interviewed, though he'd never heard of the bar in his own little stretch of downhome. It also describes a few others that didn't survive the test of time. Granted "Rumors" has only been in Shannon for about 8 or 9 years. "Different Seasons," the reincarnation of "Crossroads Estates" outside Meridian, has only been open again for about a year. Both bars are now run by former patrons, because they understood how desperately the areas needed an outlet for those who are different.

Their stories aren't easy. Or neat. Rumors went through a brutal anti-gay murder. If you haven't heard of Scotty Joe Weaver you should go to Google. The local townsfolk aren't exactly accepting of their queer neighbors, though the bars are left mostly alone. Now. Over the years, local Christian groups, law enforcement, and public officials have written down license plate numbers. Then read them over the radio and published them in newsletters. The worst problems have come from the American Family Association, which was started in 1977 by a preacher in Tupelo, MS. They now boast a nationwide network of over 400,000 supporters, and are one of the most formidable (and prolific) "moral authorities" in America today. In other words, I view them about as favorably as Fred Phelps, though their rhetoric isn't as vile (ar overt).

Yet despite everything the bar regulars had been through, they all agreed on one thing. In interview after interview. Without prompting, they described the people in the bar as "family." It's a word I've blogged about frequently, and explained to countless panels and classes. It's a word every GLBTQ person understands, as well as its importance. Even the straight folks in the video described the bars as a welcoming place where you could just be yourself. And how amazing that can be, especially in a place where it's not always possible.

SO many memories. I remember my first trip to a gay bar. At that time it was called Nightengales, and it was in an old converted doublewide trailer on the outskirts of Fort Collins. Then it became known as the Tornado Club. Then Club Static. Today it's closed. It was the only gay bar in the area, and it was a 60 to 90 minute drive to get there. Just like folks in Mississippi, who can drive 90 minutes to Memphis. It wasn't much to look at, but for the first time I had a place I didn't have to worry about what people would think. I could flirt with other guys. I could dance with drag queens, drink with lesbians, and just let my hair down.

We also took over a bar in Laramie (the Ice House/The Cowboy on Third/whatever it is this week) on Thursday nights, when Club Retro held "Alternative Night." The goths, freaks, and queers frolicked openly once a week. That night it was OUR bar. OUR home. OUR refuge. The folks clad in leather, spikes, piercings, and tattoos joined in the kick lines to "Come on Eileen." In one night we'd dance to "Bloodletting," "Dancing Queen," and "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)." We'd help carry in the CD's for our DJ friends, dance all night, close the bar at 2am, and then go see Carol. She was the late night waitress at Foster's Country Corner. We boycotted Shari's for being rude to our friends who couldn't always afford food, but Carol waited on the goth and gay freaks with a smile, selling 99 cent all-you-can-eat biscuits and gravy. I'd make it home around a little before 4am, take off my white grease paint, fatigue pants, and combat boots. Then be up for class at 9am.

I remember when Steph planted a chair in the middle of the dance floor and did a body shot from between Lisa's pleather-clad thighs for her birthday. You could have cut the sexual tension with a knife, and ALL the boys who liked girls were watching. I remember Lisa returning the favor for Steph's birthday. "Leather David" (as opposed to Blonde David and David with a Beard - yes, I still know their real names) happily played "pass the ice cube" with both Lisa and I. Little Craig usually won "who kisses better," due in part to his tongue ring. His wife Carolyn giggled when I'd swoon after a kiss. If I was having a bad day, Ian would physically pick me up, then MAKE me grab his near-perfect ass. And if a "normal" walked into the bar, they usually took one look inside and turned around. If they so much as looked at us funny, they were out on the street. Shadow, sometimes bouncer, sometimes DJ, sometimes bartender, would make me his infamous "Black Tulip" in my request for a drink that was "sweet and tasty but will fuck me up." DJ Chickie and her boyfriend DJ Steve would take turns spinning each week. Sam tried to be a club kid in a place where nobody even knew what that meant.

They were definitely a family, and there is no doubt in my mind that they saved my life. They kept me sane and let me know I wasn't the only one. They taught me it was okay to be different, and that it was also okay to express that difference. To let it out. To let go. To just BE. My size didn't matter. My orientation didn't matter. The fact that I blushed when sex was mentioned (just like our Squiddy) didn't matter. I was one of them. I was PART of them. And they were part of me. The bar was eventually sold, our regular DJ's moved away, and Alternative Night moved to the Parlor for a while, where little Craig started spinning under the name "DJ Darth." Dawnsie even created a drink called "The Big Gay Jim." That, too, eventually faded away, but every time I walk into one of those bars, even years later, I still smile and remember my family and the amazing times we had.

Those little refuges helped create the person and activist I am today. They taught me about acceptance...of myself and others. They taught me not to judge a book by it's cover, no matter how pierced or inked it is. They taught me that people who think they are SO different from one another have SO much in common. I'd like to think over the years I've paid that forward, perhaps several times over. We joke about my house being Laramie's gay bar. We've even named it Ruby Slippers. But isn't that because we don't have a space of our own. For a while, we even had the "real" Cowboy Bar, thanks to Kristen being both my office aide at IT and the manager of the bar. We held a freaking drag show under a banner for Skoal, after all! Those small town gay bars live inside my heart and my memory. The thought of them has me in tears now, just as the movie did.

Today's lesson: do everything you can to create "a small town gay bar" for someone - a sanctuary. Where people can be whoever in the hell they are. Where they can explore who they want to be without judgment. Or labels. Where all that matters is having fun and being true to yourself. Create it in your town, your living room, or your heart. And share it. And anywhere you're lucky enough to find such a place, cherish it. They are too few and far between. They save lives and rescue souls, though they are often the most simple, run-down, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants dives.

Today's homework: Take a moment to remember places like this from your past. And TELL SOMEONE ABOUT IT. Recount your memories to friends, family, or most importantly, someone who could use such a place, even if it doesn't exist anymore. They deserve to know that they're out there. Share them in the comments on my blog, if you like. And for those who sometimes visit Ruby Slippers, I'll keep the movie on the DVR for a while. And happily do my best to bore you to tears with tales of YesterLaramie. Our queer masquerade balls at the pyramid church on the prairie, DJ Chickie's most famous lines, the exploits of my first lesbian gal pal Lisa, or the most dismally attended Gay Awareness Week events ever held. The stories and struggles deserve to be told. And you deserve to know about those who came before. Who helped me in the ways I try to help others still today. I have photo albums, and bad poetry, and endless love in my heart.

Thanks to all who are now or ever have been a part of ALL my "small town gay bars."

Catholic Cardinal has me seeing red

(Note: One of my goals for the blog this year is to do more to highlight queer news, and not just my own life and insights. This week has certainly given me something to start with!)
The top Catholic in England released a statement about the equality laws in England. One gem:

“Most parents do not want their children to be taught that marriage is no more than one lifestyle choice among many,” he said. “They do not want to expose their children to the risk of becoming promiscuous or indulging in drug and alcohol abuse.”

Because married people are never promiscuous or use drugs or alcohol?! I still cannot believe that in today's world people cannot move beyond the archaic stereotypes that all queer people sleep around and are pill-popping boozers. Sure, some of us will fall into those groups, but that's because of the people they are, not the fact that they aren't married or heterosexual. Marriage is not a magic bullet to cure all of society's ills. Get it through your heads, and get over it.

“It has taken us a long time to realize that if we cut down trees, use cars with highly leaded fuels and build factories with toxic emissions, we were gradually destroying the ecosystem within which we live and breathe,” he said. “Yet it is equally true that we are rapidly moving the very structures on which society is built and on which humanity depends; we are gradually destroying the ‘ecosystem’ that supports the family,” he added.

Wow. I suppose I should be happy that such an obviously conservative person admitted publicly that we've been hurting the environment. Since he's not actually a politician, I'm not. I'm also aghast that someone could compare being unmarried to being a planet-detroying carcinogen. I grew up in a married household until I was in 1st grade. My parents fought constantly, my father was controlling and abusive, and actually informed my sister and I that th divorce was our fault. Is this the "ecosystem" in which we want children to be raised?

After the divorce, my mother raised us in an essentially single-parent fashion. While not cannonically Catholic (and why should it be, since I was raised Lutheran?), my "ecosystem" taught me to be self-reliant and pro-active. It raised me to be moral, benevolent, kind, and generous. I was a straight A student, graduated #2 in my class, and finished my college coursework with a 3.592 GPA. I didn't get into fights in school, didn't do drugs or drink (until I was off to college), and was a pretty good kid, generally speaking.

Today we have blended families, divorced families, and single parents. We have test tube babies, adoption, foster parenting, and grandparent-headed-households. What harm does it do to mention this to kids? Why is it necessarily bad to ensure our schools are mentioning ALL types of families? Why can't we be honest about the way things are changing.

It doesn't harm the few remaining nuclear families that haven't (yet) gone into meltdown. It doesn't scar kids. It doesn't make them gay. It doesn't make them evil or deviant. Just ask the American Association of Social Workers, the American Pediatric Association, the AMA, either APA, and a whole host of other qualified, predominantly heterosexual professional associations or organizations. They might just know a thing or two.

The family unit does not look the same today as it did 200 years ago. You're not as likely to see grandparents or extended family members living with the family unit. This doesn't mean the family is being killed off like an endangered species in the path of a mini-mall development. It means that times change, and we're adapting to things as we go. 200 years ago, you also didn't see "press releases" from "the Church." Does that mean that it should revert back to the old ways, failing to move into today for the sake of a supposed golden yesteryear gone by?

Some parents don't want their children being taught that people with a different skin color are equal either, but it doesn't make it right. And thank goodness that somewhere along the line, someone started teaching kids that you shouldn't persecute Christians or throw them to the lions. Too bad this one doesn't want to return the favor.

Happy Holly-gays!

I know, the holiday season is technically done, as evidenced by the lack of sleep I got on New Year's Eve. But I had a hard time getting into the Christmas spirit this year. I now have a nephew AND a niece in Holland - both of whom I've not yet met in person. I hate airfare. Work has been increasingly poopy for some time. I managed to get my scheduling done and survived the end of semester without a body count, but am still quite burned out on work. The weather was bad, many of my cronies were leaving town, and I was generally feeling blah about the holidays.

On the upside we managed to pull together most of the original flock, as NerdyGirl and MandyFish were both able to return to Laramie for a bit. Flock Hall was host to a late Holiday Party on the 28th, so on the 27th we spent a day shopping in Fort Collins. The weather was terrible and the roads iffy at best, but we managed to stay warm and have a good time. My carload continued south to pick up MandyFish from the airport, though the weather delayed her flight again and again. We also rescued a stranded Mark, as Greyhound had diverted his bus to Denver and then cancelled the bus to Laramie due to road conditions. I got to bed at 5am, though it was certainly worth it to see everyone again!

Most of us are quite familiar with the phrase "It's the thought that counts." It's often said with a grain of salt, or even dripping in sarcasm. It's a joke to some of us, or at least is used as such. When I was growing up Christmas often reminded me of what we didn't have, especially when answering the dreaded question, "what did you get for Christmas?" While my friends were enjoying a new Nintendo, designer clothes, a computer, their own TV, and large checks, I was opening socks, underwear, and some very meager presents. But it didn't matter, as the holiday spirit was ever-present and my mother always made sure it was a good Christmas.

Today I'm too old to get checks from the extended family, and my sister and I have an understanding about sending presents back and forth. It costs more to ship something than it does to buy it, so we refrain. It was another homemade holiday for me, and most of my friends got jewelry, cookies, or something I crocheted. By Christmas, there wasn't much under my invisble tree, and I was admittedly a bit blue about it. Then we had the Flock party.

I hadn't seen a tree with that many presents under it in a great long while, I assure you. By the time presents were passed out, we each had a modest stack in front of us. There wasn't really anything extravagant, as none of us are sitting on a gold mine and we have to make our pennies count. I was SO moved at the thought and effort that went into the gift-giving, though. A little trinket from the kitchen store, something that went with someone's hobby, etc. It didn't matter whether the gift was worth $2, it was quite specific to the person. We had a great meal, and the last of the group headed home around 2am.

As I drove home, I thought about that phrase. "It's the thought that counts." On our shopping trip, I'd seen it in action too. This person knew exactly what they were getting that person. That person saw the perfect little something. She needed help in distracting him so she could buy it and smuggle it to the gift wrapping area. "You can't go back there right now." "You should go over there for a little while?" "What am I going to get so-and-so?" "What do you WANT?" The value was in the love a gift represented, not the cost. We were also together as a family, and that was the best part of all.

In the end, it was a great holiday for me. I ended up with three times "the haul" I'd expected, and every single gift was thoughtful and dear. I got to see a few folks who have been gone and away for far too long. I was reminded that near or far, our various families are always with us. Most importantly, I felt loved and was able to give others that same warm feeling. What better gift - and lesson - is there?

Happy holidays to all, with ALL MY LOVE!

Homo For the Holidays

It's that time of year again. For some it's about presents. For some it's about their faith. For others it's about a magical time of year, and goodwill toward others. I admit this year I've found the Christmas spirit to be a bit...elusive. It's hard to be festive when you have bouts of intense pain. When you're sick of your job. When you can't play Auntie face-to-face because of distance and obscene airfare. When you can't afford to do the holiday the way you'd like.

Don't get me wrong: There is a great deal that I am very much looking forward to over this break. Not having to wake up and go to work will be GREAT. Spending lots of time with the puppies. Making fires. Making LOTS of Christmas presents. Catching up on movies I didn't see while having a glass of wine and crocheting or making jewelry.

The holidays have always been about family to me, though. This is my 5th Christmas without Mom, and that's still a bit tough at times. This year, we made the old family cookie recipes, though, and it was SO nice to have a cookie decorating party again. MandyFish and NerdyGirl will be here in Laramie. Together. For the first time in a LONG time. And from the sounds of it, we could have one of the largest flock gatherings/homecomings/happenings ever. I'm REALLY looking forward to seeing everyone again.

Holidays with Mom were about love and support. "If one of your friends can't make it home, you make damned sure you bring them along. I just need a few hours notice so I can make sure there's enough dinner." And there were Thanksgivings and Christmases and Easters and others where someone would be pulled along. Sometimes they were reluctant at first, but by the time they left they were giving Mom a big hug at the door. They also usually had a plate or tub of leftover something tucked under their arm, so there was a bit of home-cooked goodness to ease us back into reality. We'd put people on the couch or air matress, as the mobile home didn't have a guest room when both kids are home. Mom used to tell potential guests "It's anything but the Ritz Carlton, but there's space to sleep, food to eat, and you're welcome to share anything we've got." She even kept spare stocking stuffer presents, just in case. Because nobody should have to do a holiday without at least one present to open.

Those who've been to Ruby Slippers (my house) might find this attitude familiar. At least, I sure as hell hope they do! We didn't have much growing up. Dirt poor, some might say. But we always had ENOUGH, and made sure to share what there was. I try to do the same thing today. "Sure, you can have some of that." "Yes, bring them!" "Let me make sure I have enough food." "So glad to see you."

Today's lesson: It's not about carols, cookies, or cards. It's not about gifts, getting, or garland. Most of my friends have a LOT of big stuff going on in their lives, and a lot of it is not GOOD big stuff. At this time of year, try to focus on the fact that you have a chance to spend time with someone. To talk with them. When coping with the stress that families bring on, remember that we're all human beings. Nothing else should matter. Be thankful for gifts the universe has given and mindful of those around you. Don't focus on your own problems, and don't focus on the flaws of others. Focus on the good times you've had and laughter you've shared. Remember the times they were there for you. When you think about those things, it's hard not offer every inch of floor space and the last cracker in the pantry. And isn't THAT what the holidays are supposed to be about?

Subscribe to the Wonderful!

Today's post is brought to you by a special guest...Flynn. Apparently the 402 times I went into my blog after someone whined at me "You need an RSS feed" weren't enough. As I've told y'all often, I turned the blasted thing on and off, reset it, configured it, and mucked around until I was blue in the face. Besides...you can suck it up and follow links to read blogs like the rest of us. That said, Flynn had me log into my blog and he played while the rest of us worked on cookies. Of course, he then installed a new browser on my laptop and set it to default. So y'all better appreciate this, because I'm not likely to let people touch anything unattended again! ;)

Visitors rejoice! You can now subscribe to Jim's blog!
It only took a little hackery, but I persevered, and now you can find a handy-dandy "Subscribe" button above our beloved Diva's picture.

Also, you can click here:



[Flynn Out]

P.S. The link will add Jim to your default RSS reader, be it Google, FireFox, Outlook [shudder], or whtaever other backwards program you use... ... Get Google!

Live, on location

Hello, this is Big Gay Jim reporting live from the lobby of the Fine Arts Building, where I'm staffing a Spectrum table during the opening night of "The 'M' Word." I had a chance to see the final dress rehearsal last night, so I'm manning the lobby tonight. Maximus was here before the show, but had to run off to work on a paper or some silly school-related thing like that. The show's decent, but it doesn't seem like a very full house tonight. I could be wrong, as I've not sat in the lobby before. ;) While I have a few nanoseconds to spare, I wanted to give the regular readers a few news updates:

• Work is busy right now, as it's time for final papers and stressed out students. I'm creating schedules for my employees at work, and PACMWA grant proposals are due tomorrow at noon. This is my way of saying "Sorry if you don't see me this week, or hear from me. It's not personal. Cope." ;)
• I did NOT tear my rotator cuff. It was a sprain with a possible sublexation. This means an almost-dislocation. Think hyper-extension with lots of pain. Prescription: ice, 2 weeks limited activity, and over-the-counter ibuprofen (LAME!).
• My nephew has arrived! Alexander Damien Gerritsen was born at 6:37am (Holland time) on December 3. My sister was in labor for 6.5 hours to deliver the 8 lb. 8 oz. baby, who was 20.5 inches long. Nothing compared to the 20 hours she was in labor the first time. She was home 4 hours after delivery! Everyone is healthy, happy, and Ella is already trying to share her cookies with her new baby brother.
• Reese is getting around under his own power for the most part. I'm still limiting his activity to protect his back legs and feet from damage. He's not walking, as he doesn't quite plant his feet correctly all the time. If he's slow and thinks about it, he's fine. Reese is rarely slow, so he does a lot of tipping over and dragging his hind end around a turn that may or many not have been there. He continues to improve, and I'm not certain he'll even need to use a cart or other similar device. If I can convince him to wear some booties to prevent the sores on his legs while he learns to walk (and run?) again, we might be good to go!

It's a busy time of year. MandyFish got married, Squid turned 21, and Jack Frost is back with a score to settle. Today's lesson: take everything one step at a time, and take two deep breaths before freaking out. I, too, have a shitload of stuff to get done and meetings or appointments to juggle. We can all make it, but need to give each other some extra space time, as tempers are running rampant.

Inhale...exhale. Repeat as needed.

Tired of being broken...and World AIDS Day

So the herniated disc in my back wasn't enough. Reese being partially paralyzed wasn't enough. I am apparently supposed to remain broken for now. I have managed to do SOMETHING to my shoulder. I went to the NP today and she agrees that it sounds like an injury to the rotator cuff. Today doesn't hurt as bad as yesterday did, but I am still wearing a sling. I have an appointment with the ortho tomorrow at 7:30am (EW!) so I'll know what the scoop is after that. I hope. I'm also hoping that it's a pull, strain, sprain, etc. A full tear or other injury would be much worse. I'm hoping that time, rest, some pain meds, and some PT might save me from a painful and costly surgery. Keep your fingers crossed.

In other news, World AIDS Day is Saturday, December 1. Educate yourself. Get tested. DO SOMETHING! For those here in Laramie, we will once again be doing Dining Out For Life. Sweet Melissa's is again the only Laramie restaurant participating, but if you're hungry this Saturday, please think about eating there. They will donate a percentage of their profits to Wyoming AIDS Walk. There are also some Casper restaurants participating, but I don't have a final list of those (Casper was someone else's job!). In the meantime, a friend of mine sent me a fun link to a video.

It's a safe sex ad from India, Baliwood style. How can you go wrong with men dressed as colorful condoms singing and dancing? I also figured I'd post a Baliwood link in honor of MandyFish. For those who don't frequent her blog, she's getting married Saturday in Vegas, and is a confirmed Baliwood addict. So it's a link about AIDS in honor of World AIDS Day, but done in a style in honor of the Pink Princess, and my Grace. Ooo...this Will is getting a long-distance Leo!

PS...For those asking, my sister is now 7 days overdue with baby #2. I have filed all the necessary complaint forms with the management. I have recommended spicy foods, walks, and trampolines. My brother-in-law offered lots of vigorous sex to my sister, but I couldn't support that option. She's still my sister, and....EW! My sister continues to blame the baby, saying it's up to Squirt, not Mom.

Things for which I am thankful...

I wanted to do an unconventional list, so some of these might sound odd at first. If you have questions, let me know in my comments. Also, please share some of your own!

My friends and family - living and dead, near and far

The pain I went through in the closet - it made me who I am today

The ongoing pain of Matt's death - it still motivates me to make the world better

Seeing my mother die - I was there when she needed me, and I don't fear it as I once did

Seeing Scotty near death - it reminded me that time is precious, and family even more so

A job I no longer want - it's shown me that passion and profession should always be connected and must sometimes evolve together

Various injuries and ailments - they've taught me to slow down and take time for myself

Friends who let me down - they taught me to forgive more and judge less

Failed relationships - whether mine or someone else's, they've taught me patience and perspective

Growing up dirt poor - I learned to make do with less and appreciate what I have

The future - it's nothing but possibility

What will you give thanks for, and what would you not normally be thankful for that you perhaps should?

From my archives

This weekend I went digging through some of my old writings. This piece is one from that archive. In October I remember Matt's murder, and November is Transgender Remembrance Month, so I offer this as a testament to those we've lost. And for all those would-be plagiarists out there, all rights reserved!

LOST SOULS

Remember. Remember them all. Never let the names lose their meaning. Never let the faces lose their importance. For they are not just victims. They are not simply images to call up when discussing politics. They are people - people with lives, rich and full. They are brothers and sisters, neighbors, cousins, parents, and children. They are teachers and students, clergy, bankers, activists, and citizens. They are souls - and are more than the sum total of their sexual orientation or gender identity, even though many choose to define them in this manner. They leave behind family and friends who knew and loved them. They leave behind those who never met them but still grieve their absence nevertheless. It is unspeakably important that we remember and that we help others remember as well. For when we stop remembering them, we stop learning from their deaths. We begin to forget why we cared, why we ached. The pain can dull - that is as it should be. We could not go on if it did not lessen. But the memory must stay - forever etched into our lives and carved into our very souls. We must remember so that those who come after us - those who perhaps don't know their names, their stories - can learn from them as well. So that their lives are celebrated. Holding tightly to their memory will NOT bring them back - that has never been in question. But honoring them gives them a new life - perhaps one worth as much as their first. A life that teaches and touches hearts. One that creates a new understanding - a new hope. Let their lives and their stories remind us of what we have overcome, for our accomplishments are also spoken in their lives. As we remember patriots and poets long since gone, so should we remember their existence - their place in the world and in history. Remember them honestly. Remember them always - they are worth at LEAST that.

Taking risks

As most of my readers know, this weekend I've been working with a friend from Chicago (Greg's link is on the right!) on a video project. Through him, I've made new friends from New York (Ryan and Jenn are AWESOME), and through them a new friend from Nebraska (Lisa is a hoot). It's already been an incredibly powerful weekend. I reached out to some of my friends...some of my FAMILY...and asked for their help. There was a lot of risk involved for everyone.

Greg, Ryan, and Jenn are putting a fair amount of their own money behind the project. I'm not in a financial position to help out with that right now. They've had some success with donations from their friends and family, but they're still fronting a chunk of change. They got on planes and came to a strange place to interview people they had not met, relying only on my word that these were the people who would add to our story. Relying on Greg and I that there WAS a story, and one that people would be interested in, or that would make a difference.

My friends relied on my word that these outsiders were trustworthy. That they were safe opening up in front of a camera, and that they would not be burned as they had in the past. Relying on my word that they really did have something to contribute, and that their voice was important and valuable. That they had something to add to what we were trying to do, though they didn't necessarily even know what that was.

I encouraged. I begged. I twisted arms, called in favors, and begged for trust. And I got it. In spades. And magic has already been happening. After one and a half LONG days of planning and shooting, we have another LONG day remaining. I know it will be even more powerful. I have faith. The very core of my being tells me that the Universe (and Matt, too) are pulling this together, and that everything is happening for a reason. The big picture is revealing itself slowly, but we're pressing on...trusting. Trusting each other, trusting the Universe, and trusting that good intentions and open minds will lead us to the right path.

Greg, Ryan, and Jenn have been awed by the things they've already heard, witnessed, filmed, and experienced. They didn't know what to ask the Squid, but were dumbstruck after her interview...which ran much longer than any of us expected. As she left, they commented "label that tape as 'golden'". To be honest, I think they were surprised by what they learned from an almost-21-year-old.

Jackie was reluctant to be interviewed because she hasn't been as involved recently as she once was. She was surprised to learn how interested we were in what she HAD done, not just what she WAS doing. I wonder what surprises tomorrow will bring?

The bottom line is that I don't take all this trust lightly, and I am truly humbled by it. My Laramie family trusted me that I wasn't offering them up to wolves. My "film family" trusted me that I knew where the story was, and who to talk to. That's a lot of trust...in me. Some part of me is scared by that. But I KNOW I'm right. Not because my head tells me so, though it does. Because my HEART tells me so. Because there have been too many "coincidences" that have proven US right. The waiter at the restaurant. The work study student in the RRC. The couples waving as we filmed at the fence. This was meant to happen. It was meant to include these people. It was meant to happen here, and now. And it was meant to happen in just this way. I can't wait to see what the next step might be.

And I pause, at 1:30am (well, soon to be 12:30am), to thank my friends for trusting me. I know that it means I have done something in the past to earn that trust, but I still respect the risks taken by people who mean the world to me. I am humbled by their trust in me, and by their willingness to open their hearts to strangers...with cameras. I will honor your risks, and focus our intent.

Today's lesson: It is not only important to take risks with and for those we trust and care about...it is also equally important to recognize the risks they take for us in return.

Welcome to the family, Albus

So JK Rowling has officially outted Dumbledore. Nonchalantly. In Carnegie Hall. Some conservative wankers have raised a stink about how he's supposed to be a moral role model for children. Funnist thing, but the text of the books hasn't changed. He still is! Many of these people are the same who had raised about the books from the start, claiming that they were occult and promoted witchcraft. Hogwarts hogwash!

Most of the response has been supportive, though. Some have asked why she didn't include it from the start. She's been accused of trying to utilize free publicity to increase sales of her books. Well that doesn't seem likely, given that ultra conservatives are likely to step up their boycott efforts, and alienate a segment of less conservative folks with a hot button issue.

I'm all for it. And I love the fact that she'd known Hogwart's Headmaster was gay for some time. It wasn't a big deal. Being gay is a PART of who he is. And not necessarily the most important part. He loved. Not lusted. The revelation wasn't salacious. It was matter-of-fact. And isn't that the way it should be? Being gay might have influenced his character, but he's a good person, role model, teacher, and person. And that's all that matters. His heart and mind. His soul. Gay or straight. Humanity. I can't wait until everyone thinks that way.

Granted it will be a LONG time. Meanwhile, we can all enjoy watching the vein on Bill O'Reilly's forehead bulge out while he rants about it. Or Phelps condemn Rowling. Maybe he'll say Dumbledore's death was God's punishment. Either way, it should make for entertaining bigotry.

Some Days Are Like That

An emotional rollercoaster, that is. As most of my regular readers know, I had to take one of my puppies, Reese, to the vet yesterday. He hurt his back a few days ago, as dachshunds often do, but didn't show any signs until he couldn't use his back legs. While dragging his back legs behind him, he looked a bit like a seal; it would have been adorable if I hadn't been so terrified. He's still at the vet on 3 days of IV fluids and steroids in the hopes he regains some feeling and mobility in his hind legs.

Needless to say, I was an emotional mess and more than a little bit of a train wreck. Parenthood is easy when things are going well, but trouble makes it so much more complicated. I had several meetings and appointments scheduled for the day that I couldn't cancel, though I didn't really want to be doing anything other than worrying and stressing.

My first appointment was one that could not be missed. Yesterday was Teacher In-Service at the high school, and we were asked to do a one-hour modified SafeZone Session for the teachers and staff. We did a full session 7 or 8 years ago, but the principal at the time was nervous enough that he didn't want it to be held on school grounds. So we did the session in the Union and 12 people, including said principal, showed up.

This time we met in a classroom and 31 people attended, including the advisors for the school's Gay Straight Alliance. The sponsor for "The Day of Truth," the conservative anti-gay response to GLSEN's Day of Silence, was also there. The session went VERY well, and I heard nothing but thank you's from the attendees. (No comment from the "other side of the fence.") It did my heart SO much good to make a difference and touch the hearts and minds of teachers who will in turn be there for students. Maybe it will make things easier for a kid down the road, and he or she won't have to go through what so many of us did while growing up queer.

My second meeting was PACMWA (President's Advisory Council for Minority and Women's Affairs), which I'm chairing this year. We've been struggling to find a common meeting time, haven't met for a few weeks, and had pressing business. Namely, planning for a Diversity Summit. It was a very productive meeting, and even though half of the committee couldn't attend, we made great headway on planning, as well as a few other issues. It, too, did my heart good.

The rollercoaster continued with a visit to see Reese at the vet's, which was an odd mixture of difficulty and catharsis. That was followed by a double header in the volleyball tournament. The physical activity was exhausting, but helped me purge a great deal of angst and frustration. Hitting things can be happy, and volleyballs don't press charges like people might.

Today's lesson: life has a lot of ups and downs, twists and turns, whether they come in one day, one week, or one year. It's important to remember that there are bright spots in addition to the dark days. Try to remain focused on that; it helps get you through the rough spots.

Oh...and Reese is showing signs of improvement. Keep your fingers crossed. The next post? Dumbledore is gay!

November Three Seven Five Delta Sierra

"90 miles from Cuba." You can buy signs anywhere in Key West that say that. It's because it's true. On my recent trip to Orlando for a work conference, my friend Jace, who just happens to be a pilot, had reserved a single prop plane for a side trip to Key West. He offered to take me along, and I told him I'd buy his food, booze, and hotel in return. After all, the plane was over $700. Lodging and all the liquor we could drink was the least I could do.

You know you're in the world of Jimmy Buffett when you land and the control tower tells you to take taxi way "Niner" to the hanger, adding "It's the one that's NOT flooded." We called for a cab, and an aging hippy who reminded me (in only the slightest way) of George Carlin pulled up and asked us where we were going. I answered "we need a place to stay." After clarifying that we did not have a reservation anywhere, he said "Cool. I assume you want to stay downtown, near Duvall Street?" We said "Hell yes" and were off.

The first place we stopped was the Blue Marlin, and they had a room available for a decent rate. It was only two blocks from Duvall Street, which is Key West's version of Bourbon Street. We dropped our minimal luggage, threw on fresh clothes, and head out for a night of infamy. We stopped at the first restaurant that caught our eye, a place called Crabby Dick's. The first thing to order was a cocktail, and I was debating what I wanted. When Jace said "Pina Colada" I realized there was no other possible order. We had three each with dinner, which consisted of conch fritters (thanks for the recommendation, Jerry!), ahi tuna, Gulf shrimp, and scallops. Yes, we went a bit wild with dinner, but it was SO worth it.

After dinner we set out on our primary mission: get drunk and have a night of pure fun. In Key West, there is a law against open containers. They don't take it seriously, as every block had at least one cocktail stand without seating...just the way I remembered New Orleans. We went from one drink to another, focusing on rum. We staggered through the city, drinks in hand, right past police. As our waiter had told us, as long as you're not being an ass or causing problems, they don't care about open containers.

We found good music, amazing art, and rainbow flags everywhere. We went past at least four bars that were doing drag shows. Nightly. It would seem a good way to get rich quick would be to open a scooter store, as everyone was buzzing around on a Vespa or other scooter. Pizza delivery was done on scooters. At the end of our evening, we staggered home, and eventually found our hotel. It was warm and sticky outside, so Jace peeled down to his boxers, jumped the fence around our hotel's pool, and dove in for a quick cool down dip.

The next morning we cleaned up and called for a cab, as I had to be back in Orlando by 1 for a conference session. Our driver this time was a former stripper who had danced in 49 states. Hawaii is the one she'd missed, and in Wyoming she had danced at this club in Cheyenne known as The Green Door. It really is a small world sometimes. It seems most everyone we ran into who lived on the island had the same story. "I came here on vacation and never left." Our waiter had missed his flight. He didn't bother to find a new one. The stripper used to summer in Alaska and winter in the Keys. She stopped flying out for the north.

Both Jace and I understood the sentiment. It was a simpler life. Time and schedules meant little. Spontaneity was rewarded with hidden secrets, local hangouts, people willing to share or help out. Tropical paradise, cliche as it might sound, is a fairly apt description. The title of this post was our radio call sign in the single prop plane. Today's lesson: do something without a plan. Just drop everything and go. Go out on the town, start a road trip, or book a ticket to someplace you've never been but always wanted to see. Say "Fuck it." And live! I agree with Queen Latifah: "I'm Gonna Live 'til I Die."