Emotional Maturity

A long conversation with Ishmael today revealed a few things that I believe about maturity. You see, I pride myself on being somebody who is "mature," without ever bothering to define that nebulous concept. I should probably start at the very beginning.

Ishmael is not a perfect person. Nobody is. He has his own quirks that could make even the most dedicated of pursuers reconsider his merits. One such is his immense fear of commitment. While it naturally has a roost in a series of difficult life events, it's still remarkably frustrating. It was while we were discussing such things that I had this epiphany about maturity. I once believed that it was placing the needs of another above yourself, and always being understanding.

Now, I understand that that is incorrect. Maturity means looking out for yourself as well, and acknowledging that at a given point, you cannot continue to be understanding; you have to ask for yourself as well. Achieving this balance where you can both understand and be compassionate while still asking and being honestly deliberately forward is what I would call a perfect end goal for emotional maturity, and I hope it's where I'm headed right now.

Call him Ishmael

Well, maybe not quite. A far better literary representation of him would probably be... well, I can't think of a good one. Sufficeth to say that I've found myself a boy. He's... intoxicating. Different than anybody else I've ever been with. We'll call him Ishmael though, just because it's what I want to use.

I met him a couple of weeks ago at work, just smiling and stuff, and then he gave me his number and things went from there. We hang out a lot, anymore, and every time I come away from spending time with him I feel elated. I like the way he makes me feel.

Anyway, this would be the latest update in the life of Stephen would be the entry of a new character, and hopefully Ishmael is around to stay. I'm not quite sure how to say that we have sex, so I'll just out and say it. He's pretty much the best lay of any boy I've ever been with, although not the best kisser. Trainable though. The big thing that kind of bugs me about him is his massive fear of commitment. I mean, his last boyfriend hurt him pretty badly, but even so. We've been dating for almost three weeks now, and we're still not boyfriends, rather "namelesses." I don't like that. At all. Commitment without a title is still commitment, but... just not the same.

Anyway, I guess the point is that a part of my new life here in Florida will very well involve a love life with a boy, and hopefully that boy is Ishmael.

In other news, a friend of mine and I were discussing renewing the underwear conversation, so that the merits of CK Trunks versus A&F Boxers could be debated. Which do you prefer for yourself? For another boy?

-Stephen

P.S.
I like that fact that being a Moho whore is considered better than being a Homo...

-Stephen

Parliament House

So, being completely out and open down here, I let some of my friends convince me to try going to a gay club. They warned me, "It's kind of trashy, and you'll come home smelling like cigarettes." (I haven't had one in about a week, by the way.) I went anyway, last night. Trashy didn't begin to describe the Parliament House. It was... gross. Like I kind of expected to slip in thrown up beer and semen. Needless to say, I was remarkably uncomfortable, and rather than going to the dance floor took to being a wall flower.

The trashiness got worse. People started dancing (trying to be seductive) in front of me. I avoided eye contact. One of them was old enough to be my father. Eventually, my friends noticed that I wasn't having a great time, and they asked if I wanted to step outside. The courtyard took trashy to a whole new level. There was a built in seedy seedy seedy motel that was a part of the club. They actually built an f-ing motel for one night stands and hook ups at the club. Entertaining as it was, we decided to leave. We drove around for a while looking for the much nicer gay club, "Pulse", but we didn't find it.

I don't know if I'm ever going gay-clubbing against after that. They tried to convince me that it was just an awful night at Parliament House, but I don't know. Talk about a bad first impression... My new chapter is sure as hell not going to have anything to do with a one night stand hookup from a club.

Closing a Chapter

I think it's time we had a frank discussion. If you read my blog even though I've left the church, I really do appreciate you. You are a part of what makes the church such a good thing, and you probably cared about me more from the start anyway. If you're planning on stopping reading now that you know for sure I'm gone, I understand. The premise just isn't as exciting. A gay Mormon at Disney World has potential to be a sitcom; a gay guy at Disney World is pretty much normal.

I think it would be worth it to talk for a little while about life, and not as in an update in my current events. Life is constantly drawn against a book in analogy. I'm not sure it's the best one ever, but it'll do for now. You all have had many and various chapters in your lives, done interesting things, and basically just lived. The past couple of years of my life have been filled with a pervasive duality that took everything I had to offer to maintain. I'm ending that, but I'd like to write a bit about it first.

When I was sixteen, I had my first espresso. I liked it quite a bit, but I didn't fall in love. That came with the second one. It was my first deliberate move against what I'd learned in the church. Contrary to what I had always been promised, it didn't make any decrease in my health and I actually started doing better in my individual events at tournament.

Later that year, a boy told me he loved me. I didn't know what to do, and I ran with it. He taught me how to kiss, and he was pretty good at it himself. Later, he wanted a show of commitment that was more than I was ready to give, but I gave it anyway. Unlike with coffee, I fell in love with sex on the first time.

I went back to the Fatherland again that summer, I was seventeen at the time. I fell in love with beer. I also decided I was never going to start smoking, after a single drag off of a poorly rolled and stale cigarette. That lasted a whole year.

I enjoyed a year of hell at BYU. Hell is probably not quite a strong enough word, but it'll do. I went to church almost every week, in spite of my unconfessed sins. All to make my parents happy. Toward the end, I met all of you, and I decided that I was going to stay. I reneged on that one pretty quickly too.

My summer was filled with beer and cigarettes, although I made it the whole time with only a cup or two of coffee. It was also filled with a lack of church. You know the story from there, mostly.

I hope that this gives you some insight into my decision to leave the church. I got tired of lying to pass PPIs, I got tired of sitting for three hours listening to a message I neither cared about nor believed in. I could write a rather scathing report of how the church is untrue, but I doubt that it would appeal to my average reader. I'd even go so far as to say that I could beat any of you who wanted to try to argue the point with me, but I don't feel like it and it would be antagonistic.

Regardless, it's time for this chapter to close. I've been happier since I've decided to leave, more fulfilled. I'm back on the market for a boyfriend though. Rather messy situation that I don't want to get into in the blog. I'm sad that with the close of the chapter, I have to close out several characters. I don't want to say goodbye to any of you. Let's not if we don't have to. There's a whole new chapter ahead, and who knows where it might lead. I hope that some of you might read on, as I begin a new chapter in the life of Stephen.

-Stephen

Of Sheets and Foreskins

I was having a conversation with a good friend last night, and I was extremely tired. Accordingly, I could only focus on a couple of things and had awful ADD. The two recurring themes in this conversation were sheets and my new boyfriend's foreskin. I really really really want new sheets. If I could spare it, I would probably drop around 400 on new sheets. But then, who can spare that? I don't even know why I brought that up, seeing as how it has very little with what I actually intend to talk to you about.

I had a conversation the other day with somebody who once called us boyfriends for a day. He had always told me everything, given me the privilege of seeing his inner workings. For a few weeks, though, he had been rather withdrawn (at least from me), and I believe he had been avoiding me. I managed to corner him one night when he was so bored that he decided to talk to me. He had, it turns out, discovered a lie I had told him several times, of a very serious nature. Whether I had hurt him badly, or simply angered him by doing so I don't know, but I know that since he found out there has been a marked change in his attitude toward me. He told me that the goodbye we said that night didn't have to be the last one, but I think we both knew that it wasn't true. He's avoided me since.

The thing that I question is whether he's been avoiding me because of the lie, or because of my recent lifestyle choices. Either way, I do miss his friendship, but don't anticipate ever having it again.

I've lost all track of days, but I'd say about a week ago now, Jay and I went on our first date. Jay is a kid I know from work, who's from the UK. We started "going out" a couple days ago. We were going to go to Fantasmic tomorrow, but then he asked me to Cirque du Soleil instead. Needless to say, I'm stoked. I love Cirque du Soleil.

Anyway, I suppose that's about as much as you all care to hear about. I'm generally well and happy, and enjoying my life. All goals that I had when I came here. I'll try to post about an actual issue at some point in the future.

-Stephen

Too Tired to Title

I'm so tired anymore, that I don't really know how to deal with it. My hot gay roommate (hereafter Josh) and I have had pretty much opposite schedules for a while, and nothing is really developing on that side of life. Maybe it's not so much opposite schedules as mine kind of encompasses his for a long time on both sides. I definitely worked like, 11hours a couple of days ago, and I might be doing it again tomorrow. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love the money associated with the hours and all, but jeeze it's exhausting.

One of my coworkers and I had a conversation the other day that was pretty interesting. We'll call him Kyle, just in case he should come up again later. Well, Kyle is queerer than a three dollar bill. I've definitely met stodgy old married women with a dozen kids who were more attracted to girls than he is. The biggest give away is that he never talks to/about them, and never looks at them. Conversely, he always talks to/about guys, and looks at us. So the conversation went something like this.
Kyle: I just want you to know that I play for the straight team, not the away team.
Me: Huh?
Kyle: I swing for the straight team, not the other team.
Me: What? I don't understand what you're getting at.
Kyle: A lot of people here think I'm gay, and I just want to clear up that I'm not.
Me: Your sexuality is none of my business, but you really do give off a gay vibe.
Kyle: Exactly. Everybody thinks I'm gay.
Me: It's not like it matters.
Kyle: Yeah it does. I don't want people to think that about me.
Me: Whatever you want, buddy. I officially won't ask you out now.
Kyle(Loudly): Wait! You're Gay!?
Me: Yeah. Couldn't you tell?
Kyle: ... ... ... ... ... Subject Change.

Rather than being repulsed, Kyle seemed to want to be my best friend after that. I don't think any further evidence needs to be submitted to close his case. He's pretty cute too.

Anyway, I don't remember where I was going with that, but I promise I'll keep you posted on all of my escapades.
-Stephen

Would it really be any different?

I don't even know where to begin, so I'll just start typing and hope it doesn't come out too horrible. I've been on a real hiatus from the church for a while now. As you know, I became an elder back in June, but since then I haven't really done anything. And that kind of includes going to church. I guess "haven't really done anything" is a little unfair though. The truth is, I've made quite a few changes in my life, and most of them aren't the kind that I would expect you to approve of. The thing is, none of my non-member friends seem to care. I mean, they care in a certain respect, but they don't hassle me about it and they don't change the way they act toward me at all. So I suppose the question would be, would it really be any different between us?

Would it really be any different if I had started enjoying beers again? Would it really be any different if I smoked? Would it really be any different if I stopped self-identifying as a Mormon? Would it really be any different if I went back to having sex with men? Would we still be friends, who saw each other the same way?

The first two started back at camp. I'm not addicted to either, I just happen to like them both. I haven't had a drink in a couple of weeks now, but you get the idea.

Last Night, I was home alone and the Missionaries came to the door. I live in a gated complex with 24-hour security. I cannot tell you how much it pisses me off that they were in the complex. They said I wasn't the person they were looking for, unless I maybe happened to be a member of their church. I lied, and said I wasn't. They offered me some insecticides, and I chewed them out because they're bad for the environment. They asked if I had a place to go to church on Sunday, and I said I wasn't the religious type. They told me that if I changed my mind, their church was right down the road and that lots of pretty girls went there. I told them I was gay and they left. It was pretty remarkably awkward, but the point is that I told a bald faced lie when asked whether I was Mormon or not. Or was it? Am I anymore? I don't know...

I still haven't had sex in quite a while. And it's driving me crazy. It's everything that I can do to hold back, and I'm not sure why I'm doing it. My hot gay roommate is driving me nuts, but he's not the only one. So many gay guys do this program... and so many of them are really good looking. I'm strong enough to keep myself from coming on to anybody, but if they started coming on to me it would pretty much all be over.

The moral of the story? I don't know... I guess it's that I'm really feeling some antipathy toward the church right now. It would be so easy to just not go back... So easy... I doubt I'll go back to church before January. I forgot to mention that I'm way way way behind on tithing. The word January made me think of Tithing Settlements (in a round about way). I'm pretty sure that if these are the things that determine my success in the next life, I'm screwed. I just want out. I wish that nobody in my Family had ever even heard of the church. I wish that I could be free from the constant second guessing of myself and the uncertainty of it all. It's not just being Mormon and being Gay that's hard to balance. It's being Mormon and living a life that's full and enriched in which I do everything that I want to... That's the one I'm sucking at... And I just want out. I want to be able to say, "I quit" and have it all end... But it doesn't work that way, does it?

If I weren't Mormon, would it really be any different?

Sometimes Goodnight Means Goodbye

It's been a long long time since I last blogged. Well, not really that long at all, only a month and a half, but it feels like an eternity, like I last blogged in another life.

The summer went mostly well. I almost got myself fired a few times, but they never decided to actually do it, and they gave me an invite to return in whatever capacity I like, so all is well. During the summer though, I decided that I didn't really want to go back to school in the fall. I looked over my options, and now I'm in Lake Buena Vista, Florida, working for the mouse. You know. The Mouse.

Last Sunday, erm, two Sundays ago now, I was in a car crash. It was a pretty nasty one that totaled two cars. My back kind of went to heck after that, but I saw a chiropractor and a massage therapist, courtesy of my friend's car insurance, and I'm doing much better now. I hope you all know that it wasn't an easy decision for me not to come back to you this fall. I thought about it for a long long time, and I decided it was what was in my best interests though.

Anyway, I'm working at EPCOT, but to protect my anonymity I shan't reveal my work type. My roommates are pretty cool people, and I'm getting on well with them. One of them is gay and really cute. I know he thinks I'm cute too, but I really can't tell if he's flirting with me or if I'm just seeing what I want to. The other two are straight and so-so in the looks department. They're all really nice though, and I think I'll be very happy for the next few months.

In other news, I'm taking a trip to South East Asia in the spring. Stops so far include Sepang, Kuala Lumpur, and Bangkok, with more coming very soon. I'm really looking forward to seeing this part of the world, and I've always got room for more travel buddies. I suppose that's about as much of an update in my life as I really have the energy to write right now. If any of you want to come visit me at Disney World, that would be pretty exciting.

-Stephen

I'm still alive, I swear.

I mean, the title just about says it all. I promise that despite my aweful hiatus, I am still alive. I am also, however, at the home a friend who has no idea about certain things right now, and accordingly I may have to be a little bit vague in my references to said things.

Pretending is kind of exciting and stuff for the first little while, but it does get old eventually. Especially when you notice people starting to bash on other people for what you're pretending not to be. It gets old actually really fast in such circumstances, but that's just a part of life, isn't it? There are a few people on staff that I would really like to be able to talk with about such things because I'm pretty sure that they're the same way, but if I'm wrong I could (theoretically) get fired for it... Bah. Come January 2008, that all changes though.

In other news, my health has been steadily impoving since last Thursday when I was bedridden. I seem to be doing better, although the solid green discharge from my left nostril was a little bit disconcerting. The nurse says she thinks I have a bacterial infection, but the discharge has since (three days ago) returned to a regular clear color, so I'm not quite sure what to do. Obviously, seeing a physician is on the to do list, but I don't know when I'll be able to find the time to actually do it...

My employment is becoming more and more questionable. Management is talking about firing me because of an incident involving a car and the service road while campers were present... They wont because it's too hard to replace a director in the middle of the season, but they're sure talking about it. I'm thinking about quitting on the other hand... any management that's willing to make mountains out of mole-hills like this isn't the kind of group that I want to work for.

Well, that's about all I have time for, other than to say that I miss you and I never get any mail. Sorry I won't have time to read or comment, but next weekend for 100% absolute sure I will have that time, and I'll probably waste a senseless ammount of hours reading said comments. And hopefully seeing a doctor...
-Stephen

Boo!

I'm still alive, I swear. It turns out that the wireless router magically dissappeared (got stolen) and so there is no high speed internet access for those of us not in upper upper level management at camp. I had about five billion things I wanted to blog about, but I really have a couple of minutes before I have to go. A far, far better post will follow on Saturday!

In the mean time, I'm feeling really really old. My bones just don't move like they used to, and a 16 year old called me "sir". I'm only 18... sir is my father. But I've got this really cool costume that makes me look like an 18th century naval officer, which is pretty much just the coolest thing ever. Or at least, a pretty cool thing. I'll take pictures and put them my facebook when I get a chance. In other news, I updated my address on my facebook, if any of you wanted to send baked goods or anything.

And my braces are off. I wonder how that will affect my kissing?

-Stephen

Reluctant Farewell

Anybody that reads my blog with a degree of regularity knows that I'm leaving soon. I'll probably only really be able to use the internet on weekends unless it's super important, because I will have lots of other things on my mind at almost every other time and the internet access is a good mile away from my cabin. What this means is that unless I update tonight, or early tomorrow morning, I probably won't update until Saturday, and then probably only once a week from that point.

I do, though, have cellphone reception! So that means that any time after 9:00 PM Pacific time, you can call me and I'll probably answer. Or you can call at any time during the day and leave a message. I absolutely love having messages on my phone. It makes me feel loved.

So, anyway, if we chat before I go, then I'll say my farewell then, but otherwise consider this to be me giving you a hug and saying Godbwye. I hope that it's all well with you until we meet again. And the next time we talk, I hope that you have had lots of wonderful adventures to tell me about. Heaven knows I'll have lots of good stories for you. Anyway, until the next time. Godbwye.

On Curiosity

I don't know about you, oh wonderful people who read my blog, but I personally have a big problem with curiosity. You see, I find it rather difficult to control this particular aspect of my life. If there is information out there, I tend to want it. Even if it's not something I really care about that much, there's very little that you could tell me about anything that I wouldn't be at least somewhat interested in hearing.

Regrettably, that's the healthy side of my curiosity. There's also a dangerous side, a side that becomes a monster uncontrollable. This side only rears itself when there's something that I really really want to know. I've been known to completely neglect just about anything and everything to satisfy my curiosity about certain subjects. That includes neglecting my own personal well being. Tonight, I had such an experience.

I was talking to a couple people online, but the conversation lulled. During lulls in conversation, I tend to start thinking about mostly unrelated topics like, "what is lint actually made of?" and "do they ever come up with really awesome plaids by complete accident or is there like a mathematical formula for it?" Usually, it's a harmless question that I ask, like one of those, and a brief stint on Wikipedia will provide me with the information I need. Ocassionally though, I've asked slightly more dangerous questions. We needn't get into some of them and the (usually horrid) adventures they've led me on, but I would like to talk about the one tonight.

The question that I posed was, "so what exactly happens during an endowment ceremony." I know you're all cringing. I should have cringed at the very thought of it. I knew it was stupid to look, but I did it anyway. I justified, "nobody has ever specifically forbidden it to me." But I still knew I shouldn't do it... I looked. Just a peek. I looked up "Mormon Endowment" on google, and I picked a response off of the first page. It was the exact text of the Endowment Ceremony, transcribed from a tape recording. This was the first red flag.

I read a little bit. Right down to the part where the First Presidency says that everything in the Endowment is sacred and that there is a solemn obligation not discuss it outside of the temple. This was the second red flag. Note that one red flag is enough, and two red flags is clear and convincing evidence that I should not be there. Even so, I continued further. I read days 1-5 of the film completely. All the while, I kept thinking to myself, "don't do it, Stephen! Don't read on! Tell somebody what you're doing! They'll tell you to stop, and you'll stop! Just STOP!" I started reading day number six, checking back to google chat regularly, nay feverishly, hoping that somebody would say something, or that I would tell somebody, and then it would all be over.

And then I came to a realization. I didn't need them to tell me to stop. I softly and clearly uttered the word "stop," even though I didn't really intend to say it at all. And then I stopped. And I closed the tab that it was in, and I went off to Google chat to say goodnight. Next thing I knew, I was here writing this blog about curiosity.

Now, my life experiences aren't any good to anybody, including myself, if there isn't some reflection and analysis. The good news is, I didn't learn anything new. Other than a little bit of what the ceremony sounds like in the very very very beginning. I assume it was only the very very very beginning because that page was ridiculously long and I had only moved a very little bit on the side bar. The information presented though was nothing new to me. The other good news is that I stopped. I knew that what I was doing was wrong, and I stopped. I'm rather proud of myself for that.

The bad news is, I knew that something was wrong and I didn't stop immediately. I knew that it was wrong and I just kind of kept going. Somehow, that strikes as remarkably unwise. I ignored clear and convincing evidence that what I was doing was a bad idea. And yet, somehow, I did it anyway. I stopped, and that's good, but I started, and that's bad.

So, what I have to say about curiosity is that although we are all faced with things about which we are curious. We have got to be wise enough to know when to resist it, and we've got to be strong enough to actually resist it when we know we should. I still don't know what happens in the rest of the film, and I still don't know what happens after the film, but you know what? I'm OK with that. Someday, I'll find out, and until then, I don't need to peek. I don't want to peek. It is hubris for any man to reveal what God has ordained mystery, and it is hubris for any man, including me, to think that he need not wait and hear mystery in the proper time, at the proper place.

-Stephen
P.S.
I'm sorry to those that I told I was going to bed. I didn't mean to lie to you, and in fact I did intend to go to bed. I hope that you can forgive me for that. Really, truly, I'm sorry.

Ouch.

I got a fun new addition to my braces yesterday. They seal my mouth closed almost completely. When they gave me painkillers, I couldn't even fit them into my mouth I could open it so little; I had to force them through a tight fit using my fingers. The moral of the story? My jaw hurts. It hurts quite a bit actually. But come next Thursday, my braces will be gone forever. And ever and ever and ever. Until the end of time.

I also got a haircut, and found out that my Beautician is only going to be available to cut my hair while I'm still at camp. That means I'll need to ask for an evening off, because the very thought of letting anybody else cut my hair kind of makes me cringe. It might just be one of my gayest qualities.

In other news, I visited the beach with some friends, and thought I'd try to do some tanning while I was there. The sun, however, just laughed at my pasty German skin and said, "Burn, Stephen, burn." Regrettably, I couldn't compete with that kind of power, and I burst into flames! Well, that might be a slight dramatization, but you get the idea. My skin now has a lovely cherry tint to it in several places. Fortunately for me though, I recover from sunburns relatively quickly, and this time tomorrow I'll probably be mostly healed, and my skin will have a kind of tangerine rather than cherry tint. In the meantime, I'm avoiding the sun just a bit.

I hope that finals are going well for everybody. I've been working on a few posts about various issues, and I'll try to get at least one of them published before I leave for camp. In the meantime, I hope all's well!

And Then Stephen Was An Elder

The church is a rather incredible organization, I daresay. Once a wheel starts turning, it eventually follows to completion every single time, no matter how desperate the situation looks. I met with my bishop a couple of weeks ago; it was the usual: "how's your testimony, what's going on in your life, are you ready to become an elder?" series of a conversation. The difference is that this time I told him "yes, I am." Nothing happened for a while, and then last night I got a call from the Stake executive secretary... or whatever his title is. This morning, I met with the stake president. When he found out that I was leaving town for eight weeks, he said, "let me see if I can do something." He was on the phone like lightening, and in about five minutes he arranged for a stake high councilman to be at my ward to present me, and said that they would do a ratification next Sunday with the rest of the stake.

And then I went to church. And everybody sustained me. And nobody opposed. And then I helped out in the nursery during Sunday School. And then Elders Quorum time came. And the bishop was there, and my parents were there, and the councilman was there, and everybody was there. It was exciting and electrifying. I filled my circle with the missionaries and the EQP, in addition to the aforementioned persons. And then I felt something I had never felt before. Usually when I feel the spirit, it's a steady flow over a span of time with a build up and down. This time it was different. It was more like a surge, no build up, no wear down, just an instant surge, followed by another instant surge, and another. I think I counted seven in all. And then I was an elder.

The bishop gave me a cool book with instructions on how to do things like consecrate oil, give blessings of comfort, and dedicate graves. Now I just need to get one of those oil-thingies for my key chain and I'll really be all set. Seriously though, I'm just feeling really charged right now, and I hope that this step forward I've taken is going to increase my understanding, and bring me that much closer to the mind and spirit of God. Every small step in its own proper order. Every larger step the same way. True understanding lies at the end, but in the mean time, I am infinitely grateful that I am in the position I am in, where I can now be that much more of a blessing in the lives of those around me and those that are important to me.

-Stephen

National Camp School

I'm back! I'm absolutely completely back! Let me just say that Camp Fife was one of the smallest, dirtiest camps I've ever been to. But even so, I had a wonderful time. I met a few really cool people, including the director of LDS relations for the Boy Scouts of America. There were just a few good lines that I heard over the week that are worth repeating.

First, the director of LDS relations was giving a speech which included, "How do we touch the scouts? Like this. {Puts arm around his son} This is how we touch the scouts. One at a time."

Later in the week, we were talking about braiding with commissioners and one of them said, "I braid my granddaughter's hair, and I French braid." I'm not 100% sure who responded, but he said "I can French too!"

Finally, an instructor was talking about all the different kinds of animals that he had eaten; he then says, completely unaware of what he's saying, "I've never eaten beaver." My friend and I looked at eachother and struggled to hold back laughter. He had to walk away because he couldn't stop himself. It was priceless.

Those were the only really really good ones, although when you get a bunch of guys together for much longer than a day with no restrictions, lots of good lines come about. Those were just the most memorable. Anyway, the question's been posed to me a few times since I got back, "what exactly do you guys do at camp school?" The answer? I'm not exactly sure what we did.

I mean, really, I don't know why I had to go there. It was fun, and I had a good time, but it was also kind of a waste of time. I mean, I just kind of brushed up on my knots and my lashings and my first aid and all those other campcrafty things. And we went camping a bit. It's not that it wasn't a blast, I'm just not sure how it's going to make me a better director.

In other news, I leave on Thursday to go to camp for real, and that'll be eight weeks. I do have high-speed internet in the dining hall and cell service in some parts of camp though, so it's not like it'll be goodbye for a long time. I'll still be around, just super distracted. I should have tons of good stories come up though! In the meantime, I'm headed to the gym. I mean to try to put on some weight. In a good way, that is. I'd like to bring the rest of my body up to par with my triceps. :p

-Stephen

The Magic Hour

I tend to get most of my best ideas starting at about 2:30 in the morning. Coincidentally, 2:30 is also the time when my fingers stop typing exactly what my brain is thinking for no apparent reason, including adding extra characters, omitting characters, and typing things that have nothing to do with what I'm thinking. Not to mention I completely forget how to spell anything more complicated than... well, I just tried a few words which I promptly deleted and I couldn't spell any of them. You get the idea. Anyway, I have a few thoughts floating around right now, and I'm seeing things with an astounding and indescribable clarity. At least, I think I am. I'd like to talk a little bit about each of them.

I can't go back to where I used to be.
We've all done things in the past that we've learned from. Some of them were regrettable mistakes, but most fell in the realm of "learning experiences". Either way, I think that we all have an acute desire not to return to where we were when we had those experiences. I was once a naive child who knew nothing of the world. No more. I was once a rather promiscuous
guy. No more. I once had no idea how to bake. No more. I would encourage everybody to pick out some "no mores" to see the progress that they've made in their lives. Look at what you've become.

Make things right with the Lord.
I want to bear my testimony to you. I know that there are some of you out there who either think that I don't have a testimony or that it's obscenely weak. It may not be the biggest, the strongest, or the brightest of them all, but it is mine. At times in our lives, we are mocked by devils who tell us how we don't deserve God's love, how we don't deserve to become glorified. Usually, past events and current weaknesses will be brought up, as if to demonstrate to you how you deserve to die and exist only in the most tormented state. You need to stand up to them and say that you know you don't deserve all of the blessings you receive, that you know you don't deserve any kind of wonderful afterlife, and that you don't care. Because it doesn't matter. There is a kind and loving man who suffered and died and made satisfaction on your behalf, no matter how awful a something you've done. I'd like to bear my testimony that cleansing power of the atonement of Jesus Christ is all encompassing, limitless, and wonderful. If you have any sins, even minor small ones, that you have left unrepented I urge you as strongly as I can to make things right with the Lord. He loves you, and wants to help you as much as He can.

Leaving for a while
Unlike some of the people who have shut down their blogs or put them on haitus or whatnot, I'm only going to be gone for a week. I don't think I'll get cellphone service up there, but if I do I'll text some of you as soon as I can, if only to say Hi. Anyway, one week with no posts. If there isn't a post by late next Friday, then you can send all those e-mail asking if I'm alright and still alive and stuff. And I'll appreciate and read every single one of them, and respond to them to let you know that I'm fine and just far too tired to blog.

We need to talk.
One of the things that makes me most sad is when you start to make some good friends, and then they disappear. It's not really anybody's fault, they just both kind of somehow lose contact with each other. I don't want to lose contact with you, even if it is just over the summer. If you have my number and I don't text/call you by next Sunday, I'm really super sorry. You should text/call me and tell me how mad you are about it. Or how left out and sad you feel. I promise I'll make time for you. No matter what.

Got my raise.
I just wanted everybody to know that I got the raise that I needed to be able to work at camp this summer. It was more than a little bit tight, but I've made it through alright and now I'll be able to do what it is that I love to do. Oh, I do love camp. I'm really super excited. I'm on my pre-(name of camp) high. In about six weeks, I'll be ready to shoot the next boyscout I see, but for now I'm really really happy!

Beards and canes are in style.
For those of you who missed that, I'm making a comment as to what I believe my average reader to be. I think that my average reader is not, in fact, some soft cute boy with lips like heaven, but rather an old(er) married man. As such, I think I need a beard and a cane so that everybody will think I'm wise and full of wisdom or something. (Thanks for reading, by the way. Even if you are old and bearded and have a cane(I don't really think that you do) you're pretty dang cool.)

Stephen and Brady's Excellent Seattle Adventure

So, for those of you who didn't know, because I don't think either of us mentioned it in a blog or anything, I went up to the Seattle area on Wednesday to return some stuff to Ikea. While I was there, a marvelous adventure took place starring two of the coolest characters of all time: Brady and Stephen!

Things went pretty well until I left Ikea about 15 minutes later than I would have liked to. And then I got lost trying to find the Seattle Center. You know the Space Needle was once the tallest building west of the Mississippi? Yeah, it isn't anymore. In fact, there are apartment complexes that are the same height or taller. That's to say nothing of the sky scrapers that dot the city. Fortunately though, I found it eventually, and the adventure began.

After a lunch at McDonald's, we went in to experience the Experience Music Project. It was pretty cool, but only cool enough to be fun for a couple of hours. It also included entry to the Sci-Fi Museum. That was kind of neat, but the truth is that as cool as they both were, we spent less than three hours between the two of them. We traveled then, via monorail, to the mall. The mall is a wonderful invention, I think. We managed to waste tons of time there like it was candy... or something. I'm not sure which was better though: Sitting on a beanbag called "the cuddler" at the beanbag shop, or watching Brady get all excited at the Japanese import store. Both were pretty cool.

On the Monorail back from the mall to the Seattle Center, where our cars were parked, an older lady heard us talking and joined us. Getting three arm chair theologians together can create all sorts of fun, but nothing too serious happened. As we were walking away from the monorail, she started talking about women's intuition, and how men have an intuition too. Brady said something like, "I think we're probably more in touch with it than most men." I felt bad about laughing, since she had no idea, but I laughed quite a bit. I thought she'd even picked up on it when she started talking about homosexuality immediately thereafter, but no... After some more laughing, we definitely came out to a complete stranger.

The drive back to his parents' place was entertaining too. I don't remember who called who, but we were super close to each other when it happened. In fact, there was only one car in between us, who moved while we talking about it. I followed him home the rest of the way from that point. We made a short detour to get some petrol, because my car was out. I only paid 3.089 USD/gal. Stoked is one thing, but I was positively thrilled about that one.

We made it back to his place and picked out a movie to watch. I'd never seen Liar Liar, and now I have. It was on a VHS. For those of you who aren't familiar with this ancient technology, it's a film based recording at a relatively low video quality. Some time before the DVD was developed, they made these black plastic cases that they filled with a film that had bazillions of tiny little pictures and sounds on it. The VHS player would read the film and communicate it to the television. Crazy, huh? Anyway, the movie was pretty cool.

Thereafter, we went down to his room and watched some funny videos. There were some movies from his work that were pretty snazzy, a series of "office linebacker" commercials, and Little Britain. Were we the only gays in that town? Well, I might have thought so, but the computer says no, so I guess not.

Somewhere around 2:00 (ish) we went to bed, and then somewhere around 10:30(ish) we got up the next morning. We went bowling, after pleasant things like showering and tooth-brushing and breakfasting and the like. The first ally we went to was closed. (./tear) but the second one was open. We rented the lane for an hour, and bowled four games. I won the first two, he won the second two, and thus was a rivalry born. I'll get you next time, Brady! (./evil laugh) We went out to eat, and had more interesting conversation. I mean, we'd been having interesting conversation pretty steadily since Wednesday, but even so, it was cool.

Finally, we went back to his place and didn't really do anything. Even so, the last little bit of our adventure was over too quickly, and I had to make my way back home. The return trip was pretty uneventful, although I5 at seven lanes in each direction is a pretty impressive site.

In other news, I leave for national camp school super super early tomorrow morning, so I might get a chance to talk to any of you until I get back from that. If that's the case, I wish you the very very very best of luck with everything that you're doing, and you can expect to hear a long, detailed blog about how camp school went when I get back.
-Stephen

A Better Understanding of God's Frustration

My beloved mother, in fact, all of my family left me today. They've gone camping in central Oregon and won't be back until late Friday. This is both good and bad for me, because it means I've got the house to myself. Good because there's nobody around to bother me. Bad because there's nobody around to chaperon me. It's a lot harder to have a cute boy over for a tongue wrestling tournament (come on, tell me that's not original! oh... wait...) when the chance of getting walked in on by your seven year old sister is about 87%. Even so, I think I'll be fine. Cute boys haven't exactly been beating down my door recently, so I've nothing (real) to worry about. None of this though, is the point of this post.

My mother asked to me to fill her role as Den Leader while she was gone. No problem. I can go to Big Bears meeting and help them through some crafts. I mean, seriously, I deal with kids all summer long. An hour on Tuesday night should be a cakewalk, right? Wrong.

The other Den Leader (I guess they were co-leaders or something) had planned to build tool-boxes at the meeting, and had brought wood and nails. The cheapest, crappiest nails I have ever seen were in that box. If you give kids aluminum nails, they will bend and break them before they get anywhere near the wood. She also had them bring their own hammers. An absolutely splendid idea. Except that one kid brought this tiny little ball peen hammer that was absolutely useless for driving nails.

I stopped counting how many kids I told, "hold the hammer like this" "swing the hammer like this" "come down at it straight and flat" "put some force behind it" etc... It didn't matter, they didn't listen. I've done more carpentry in the past half decade than most people have in the past three! And they're kids for crying out loud. Aren't they suppose to listen and respect or something? Anyway, I swallowed my frustration, brought them fresh nails (though from the same cheap box), reset their boards, and just kept on giving them fresh starts. Why couldn't I just do it for them? Because as a real boyscout, I couldn't do a requirement for a kid. Not to mention I think that every good man should know, or at least have known at some point in his life, how to swing a hammer properly. It's not like it's hard... If you don't know, I'd be more than happy to teach you. It only takes a minute and you'll be saying, "duh, I knew that, I just didn't think about it" as soon as we're done.

Anyway, I think that I have a slightly better appreciation of the way God must feel now. He wants us to learn and grow, and He wants us to do things on our own with only minimal help from Him. To this end, He has supplied us with infinite nails and self-healing wood which He tirelessly puts back in the right position for us to build. And sometimes He gets a little fed up and tries to remind us how to hold the hammer, how to swing it, how to do lots of good and important things. But He never does it for us. He promised us our agency, and He respects it so much that even though He could live our lives for us a thousand and twenty seven (or so) times better than we can, that He just won't do it. Agency, that greatest of gifts, must lead to such frustration that I can't imagine bearing it. But He doesn't get angry. Even when He's holding the nails for us and we hit His thumb with the hammer, He stays calm and loving. That is why I love Him. Not because He created this world for me to live on, or because He put me in a (pretty) good family, but because He loves me and respects my Agency.
-Stephen.
P.S.
Please don't assume I'm leaving the church or anything. This was a testimony building experience.
-Stephen
P.P.S.
I'm also going to talk to my bishop tonight. I don't know what about, he wanted to talk to me... There might be a second post today, depending on whether it's anything interesting or not.
-Stephen

What I'm trying to say...

I immediately regretted hitting the post button on that last post, but it would have shown up on a few news feeds anyway so I decided not to bother with deleting it. Besides, I rather like the story anyway, I wouldn't want to lose it because I didn't make a record of it.

What I'm talking about with this story is group dynamics. It is the nature of groups to need something to pounce on, to need something to unite against. It's what holds them together. A group which wishes to remain in existence must either have a common goal toward which clear progress can be made and seen, or a common enemy. While nobody here has yet treated me as an enemy, I find myself questioning every move that I make here because I don't want to risk being familiar enough, and yet just different enough, to be the one to pounce on.

With my recent comment over at -L-'s blog, this is especially true. A fellow blogger and friend informed me that many actually do hold precise phrasing to be divinely inspired. I hadn't even considered that, and if I had I would not have made the exact comment that I did. Rather than go into the chain of reasoning, which is actually based on scripture, that explains why I believe that way, I'd just like to say that I'm sorry if I insulted anyone's personal beliefs. My understanding of the gospel is imperfect, as it is with any man.

Part of my reaction to finding that out is that I really truly don't want to offend anybody. I am but a man, and I can err, and I do not want to tell anybody that they are wrong unless I know it for a 110% fact. Even then I'm hesitant. The other part is a fear that I've set myself up to get pounced. To become collectively viewed as "that guy" because of my radically different view on something. I mean, I know that nobody is going to just suddenly stop reading my blog because I believe something different from what you do, but I do fear that I'll become a second class MoHo...
But what's done is done, and whatever consequences come from it I'll accept.
-Stephen

Wahrsager the wolf

I really do feel like I need a cane and a long beard, but I'd like to tell you all a story. I hope that you enjoy it, and I hope that you read into it. Like the brothers Grimm, my stories are rarely just about plot exposition.

In a time when all of Germania was covered by a vast wood that spanned from the Black forest to the Teutoburg forest and far beyond on either side, a time before the legions of Alexander would first defile even a part of it, there were many strange happenings. Deep in this sacred wood, there lived a pack of wolves, about whom this story centers.

One day, a young wolf named Wahrsager went to speak to an elder of the pack. He desired to go out into the wood without the rest of the pack, and to go and see other packs, and how they lived, and to go and see other species entirely, and how they lived. The elder told him that only misery would result, but he went anyway.

On the first day of his journey, he met an owl. The owl, being the oldest and wisest of the birds in the whole forest said to the Wahrsager, "Go back to your pack. They love you and care about you, and you will only find misery in your travels. Go back to your pack, young wolf." Wahrsager, however, did not heed the owl's warning.

On he traveled, and on the second day he found a small human village. Thinking he might stop in for a meal consisting of more than the rabbits he had been eating, he went and spoke to a member of the village. The villager, did not meet him well, and began throwing things at him, and chasing him. But Wahrsager escaped with his life and all of his fur and paws, and went back to his journey with an acute knowledge of fear and war.

It was many days before the next happening, and Wahrsager had lost count. He still remembered how to get home though. He encountered a bear. He feared at first that the bear might eat him, but instead he was shown kindness, and the bear took him into his home to meet his family and to dine. The bear prayed over his food, thanking Wotan for his bounty. Here, Wahrsager learned of religion. Sadly though, the day came when he next must leave.

One day, several months later, Wahrsager met another pack of wolves. He had passed many packs on his journey, but this was the first he actually tried to talk to. They welcome him, warily, and brought him in, and offered him friendship and place to stay, but would not let him near their women or children. Here he learned of philosophy. After a week or so, Wahrsager left, and headed home, making many interesting stops and learning much along the way.

As he neared his family in his pack, he encountered first the wise old owl. The owl looked at him and said, "Go back. You will not be well received by your pack, young wolf. You are too different, and they will not have you. Go enjoy your hermitage, young wolf. Go back." Wahrsager though, did not listen.

When he arrived back at the cave where his pack lived, he was greeted with warmth and smiles, though something was different. When he tried to tell the other wolves what he had learned on his journey, they turned their backs to him and would not listen. The elder cautioned them publicly that Wahrsager meant to turn them away from the ways that had availed them since the dawn of time.

Wahrsager swore that he would not speak of his journey again, and did not share any of the wisdom he had gained. But he was still different now, within the pack, and they all sensed it. And one day, as he was going his business doing wolfy things, they killed him.

Und wenn sie nicht gestorben sind, dann leben sie noch heute.

A littlfe fire never hurt anybody... permanently...

While reading comments over at a few various blogs, and even commenting every now and then, I've noticed that some people, including myself, tend to get a little bit spiteful in their ardent advocation against an apparent assailant. Obviously, I'm not in a position to say, "Stop it, you apes!" or any other such thing, but if I were, rest assured that I would. Rather than give you a long lecture that nobody would read about hurt feelings and such, we're going to have an "also sprach Stephen" moment.


I love you all. Even those of you I haven't met. This is a big time problem of mine, that I give my heart away so quickly, but really, truly, I do care about each and every one of you. I'm not saying that I want to start a relationship with any of you or anything, so please don't read that into this. I want you all to know that when I see you suffering, I feel that with you. I hope that you all sort of feel the same way about each other.

We will always have different opinions than one another, and that is a part of life. But if I may, I'd like to encourage you to not spite another moho because of his views or opinions on something, or because of a decision he's made. Or a mistake. I'd also like to encourage you not to declare anybody "not a moho." At least for these purposes. It's rather akin to listening to a humanist argument and then saying, "well, it doesn't apply because these things aren't people. Accordingly, I just want to say to you, oh valued reader of my blog, that I do love you. I love you notwithstanding your status in the church, I love you regardless of whether you've ever kissed a boy(or girl!), I love you even if you have tasted the forbidden waters, and I love you even if you haven't. I love you if you're a republican, a democrat, a green, a libertarian, a communist, a federalist, an independent, a political apathetic, or anything in between. I love you if you comment on my blog, and I love you if you read in silence. I love you if you check my blog for updates religiously and I love you too, oh first time reader. If this isn't your first time and you managed to not get addicted last time, I doubt this post is going to sway you, but that's OK because I love you anyway. Jerk. (j/k)

Alright, that's about as sappy as I get. Who wants a hug?
-Stephen

P.S.
I didn't do a very good job of communicating that I wanted that to apply to EVERY MoHo, not just the guys. Especially the I Love yous. I'm going to resist the urge to rip off V for Vendetta and talk about how even though I ma never hug you etc... but yeah.
-Stephen

Dinner with the Missionaries

Today, we had dinner with the missionaries. Usually in my personal history, I've associated dinner with the missionaries with happiness and such. This might have been, however, the most awkward dinner with the missionaries EVER. EVER in the history of EVER.

First, we had Pizza. Pizza. Not home made pizza, not some kind of special pizza, just plain old run of the mill pizza from Pizza Hut. I wanted to die from embarrassment right off. My mother doesn't like to cook, but I didn't think she'd go quite that low. I mean, seriously. Pizza... Heaven forbid we give them a good home-cooked meal. Good German fare, good American fare, SOMETHING other than pizza. She has let herself go so far from the days of Germany.

Anyway, the conversation at our beautifully decorated rosewood table, which had a table cloth that could have stood to have another foot in radius, was forced and awkward. Like a script in a bad play. "Where do you come from?" "A little town called _____, in Montana." The conversation would there end. Later a missionary would ask, "So, are you going to school?" "I just got back from my first year at BYU." "Oh." A penetrating silence followed as the looks in their faces betrayed them: wondering whether I was maybe unworthy or didn't have a testimony. Didn't bother to ask if I was even of mission age.

Dessert was ice-cream, from the freezer. It had been sitting out there a bit too long though, and I got the old stuff while everybody else got new stuff. But I was OK with that, in a way. It was OK. It was the quiet of the room as we ate that bothered me. No conversation whatsoever. My father talked briefly about his career with the government, and my mother brought up how I insisted on the correct pronunciation of Iran and Iraq. This brought more awkward silence and more of those looks.

Finally, they got to sharing a spiritual thought with us. It was the new first discussion. I don't think I've ever seen anybody less enthusiastic about anything. They weren't riveting and bursting at the seems with an overpowering spirit, dying to share a message of salvation. In fact, they didn't seem to care. They had a few lines that sounding rather robotic and memorized that I silently questioned. "We've searched it out for ourselves." Had they really, or had they taken it on faith? Could they answer the really tough questions. Not the easy ones, anybody can answer the easy ones, but could they answer the tough ones with a better answer than "pray about it [you weak testimonied filth]."

They said a prayer that lasted for a good five minutes. The phone rang twice during said prayer. Try as I might, I couldn't feel the spirit at all the whole evening, even during the prayer. I think they just wanted to get out of there as quickly as they could. And who could blame them? In a situation that awkward, I'd want out too.

Anyway, I think this is the first time I've had dinner with the missionaries and I didn't come away feeling spiritually charged and ready to take on the whole universe. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Maybe I'm not worthy... maybe I don't deserve to feel the spirit when they pray, when they give the first lesson. Maybe it wasn't there. I think I'm going to go force my way through three kilometers of freestyle. It's time for me to get back in good swimming shape again...

-Stephen

P.S.
The pool was closed early tonight for some special event or other. I'll have to go tomorrow instead.

P.P.S.
This blog should not be interpreted as "Pizza shook my testimony," which is what another blogger told me he got out of it. Just, for the record, that's not what's going on...

Power, Pleasure, and Pain

The same thing can take different forms for so many of us. It can affect each of us in such a different way that it's difficult to believe that it can be the same thing. I'm still debating whether this post is going to be philosophical or about my testimony, the latter being a subject I've touched on only extremely briefly and passingly in this blog. I guess that's partially because of the weakness of it, but I don't know for sure why I haven't talked about it much.

What I want to talk about today is the church, and the way it affects each of us. This is a kind of touchy issue for some, but I shan't conceal my feelings. By their fruits ye shall know them. Matthew 7:16-20.
I suppose I'll start things off with all the good that the church does. For many, the church is a source of power. It gives us what we need to make it through the day. It gives us something to hold on to. I love the church for that, for the power that gives me to do good in the world.

For some, the church is a source of pleasure. When we live the gospel, we (usually) feel happy, and things (usually) go well for us. How could anybody argue with such a proposition? All you have to do is neglect all your earthly desires, or fulfill them, depending on the person, and eternal happiness is yours. This deal is effective immediately, although there might be some minor interruptions to the service occasionally.

And then, for a select few of us, the church is a source of pain. I think that most of us have felt this side of the church before. That agony associated with it. The pain that comes when we try to reconcile both our homosexuality and our membership in the church. The pain that we feel when we hear people who are members in good standing say such horrible things about us, or about any minority. The pain that we feel when we read "The Miracle of Forgiveness."

We know the church by it's fruits, and we know that a good tree cannot bring forth bad fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Yet the fruit of the church seems to be both. The church produces both humanitarians and warlords, both men of love and men of cruelty, both love and hatred come as a result of the church. How then can we judge it? If not by the test provided in Matthew, then by what means are we to know? How can we act with any degree of certainty?

We all just want to do what's right. I just want to do what's right. I only wish that I knew what it was that was right. If I knew, it would all be easy. If I knew for a fact that the church was true, I could let go of my earthly desires. I really could. Conversely, if I knew for a fact that it wasn't, I would go and get myself into a big gay relationship right now. I probably wouldn't even wait until morning.

It's the lack of knowledge that paralyzes me, as it paralyzes so many others, and leaves us wondering... "what if?" Whichever choice we make, we'll always wonder "what if?"

Something About the Hard Hat

I got a call from the temp agency today, causing me to roll out of bed at about 11:30 in the morning. They wanted me to go unload a truck full of cabinets at minimum wage for four hours. It wasn't the greatest job in the world, but it wasn't that bad either. They said they'd call me back for the same job a few times. It was hard work, but there was a bonus unexpected involved in the process.

You see, I've always wanted to wear a real hard hat, and I got to do it today. Really, it made me feel rather masculine. It's not like I find hard hats attractive or anything, and certainly not like I find anything particularly attractive about the people wearing them (That's an honor I reserve for sports equipment (like baseball, soccer, etc.) and the people wearing that!), but it reminds me of a scene in one of my favorite movies, "summer storm," where a gay guy says that a fight he was in made him feel super masculine. It was kind of nice to have a physical object affirm my manhood. Not that it was in doubt or anything, just... I felt pretty manly in that hat. That, of course, abruptly ended the second they gave me the knee-high boots that they wanted me to wear. But what can you do, eh?

Anyway, I need to make you all watch summer storm when I get back to Provo. We can gloss over the sex scenes, and we'll watch it with English subtitles so you'll understand it. It is a German film after all. Anyway, that's about it, just giving you that brief update on my life.

-Stephen

P.S.
I also felt kind of masculine purely from the fact that of the two people I was working with, one was a convict, who went to jail for six years for assault. The other was an old man who was getting ready to take some kind of test to become an electrician. The latter didn't really make me feel all the great, but working with a convict... Is it against the rules to add something to the list of things you want to do after you've already done it?

Clear Sound Reason

My blood is at a slightly elevated temperature this fine morning, so forgive me if I come across as slightly harsh or absolute in what I'm about to say. I may reconsider and edit after church, but it's not likely because I tend to find my own prose too beautiful to edit. I'm just warning you in advance, I might come across as a little steamed because, well, I am.

Sometimes, people in the church who are untrained in logic and other systems of reasoning get themselves into debates that they cannot win, mostly because their arguments are based on absolutely nothing, bad research (as in, a source that analyzed five anecdotes and called itself a study), false statistics, or a baseless presumption (these ones usually proceed to make many more baseless presumptions throughout the argument, with no attempt at logically justifying any of them.) As soon as you take the right block out of their Jenga tower, their entire case falls apart because they really only had one contention (with many sub-points) to begin with instead of multiple separate ones.

So what do they do when they realize that they have gotten themselves in over their heads? They have a few options to choose from.

My personal favorite is to pull out a scripture or saying from the prophets and abuse it until it fits into the situation at hand, acting as though it had always been meant to be used in exactly such circumstances. I was once told that because the D&C says we had (at the time of writing) "enough and to spare" of natural resources that we shouldn't worry about things like conservation and Recycling, and that it was OK to waste.

Some people like to say, "Well, I've enjoyed talking about this with you, but I can see that you are just trying to silence my opinion!" or "I'm really not interested in re-evaluating my position on this issue." I'm not trying to silence your opinion, I'm trying to get you to re-evaluate. And if you weren't interested in re-evaluating, you shouldn't have gotten into the debate in the first place. What do you think the point of a debate is?

The one that frustrates me the most is this one. "I think that this conversation is just bringing a spirit of contention, and I don't like the way it makes me feel. We need to stop now." This argument is fair if the conversation hasn't gotten very far and neither side has built a solid case yet. I understand that a lot of people are made uncomfortable by what they perceive to be contention. As a debater, I had to learn that if you get mad at everybody who says that you're wrong and points out holes in your reasoning and the logic in your cases, you won't have anybody to hang out with at tournaments. But I can still see how others get unhappy and feel attacked. Even so, you know how it makes you feel at the beginning. Stop it at the beginning, not deep into the debate when all the points are out on the table and you see how ridiculous/hopeless your case was to begin with.

Of course, there will always be other tricks, but these methods of pulling out of a debate you're losing continually make me want to hurt people. I mean, come on. If you can't hack it, don't get involved is all I'm saying. If you're going to get into a debate, be prepared to stick it all the way out. And if your case isn't built on clear sound reason, then maybe you really do need to re-evaluate. I promise, it doesn't hurt much. Just a quick sting when you realize that something you may have taken for granted your whole life might not be true, and that's all the pain there is.
-Stephen.

P.S.
I finally beat FFXII! Now I'm debating whether to (re)play through IX (my favorite) or V, or Chrono Trigger. Or anything else that I have lying around. Yay for video game culture.

What am I doing?

My day consists of basically doing nothing. I just sit around all day and play video games. I don't think I've ever felt quite this unproductive and stagnant, like I'm not advancing anything toward anything. The obvious solution is to curl up in a little ball in my room somewhere. That'll make me productive. I know that the whiny posts are getting more than a little old pretty quickly, but I really don't know what I'm doing any more. When I'm not moving toward anything in any direction in any regard... The only progress I'm making is in FFXII, which is a pretty cool game, but even so... Anyway, what this translates to is that since I'm not making any progress, and am actually only making things (financially) worse...

I would really, really, really like to not have to, but I think I might have to give up camp this year. Unless something happens in the near future, that's the way it's going to be, giving up camp in favor of looking for a job that pays a bit more. Like, ~twice as much (which won't be difficult). The problem is that nobody wants to employ me for just a couple weeks, but I could find a job that would last me to the end of summer no problem. So yeah, I don't know what to do. I tried to talk about it with my father tonight, but his mind is completely elsewhere. My little brother's trial is taking up all of everybody's concentration, effort, and resources. So, I don't know what to do anymore. The therapy of camp is something I don't want to give up, but... if it's what I have to do, it's what I have to do...

I don't mean to mope, but I don't know what else to do...

What to blog about

It's been four days since my last blog, a new record for me. The thing is, there's just not anything quite exciting enough going on in my life to blog about.

I got a call from the temp agency this morning, at about 5:30 (an ungodly hour). They wanted to know if I would be interested in driving down to the office to pick up as many people as I could cram into my car to work construction clean up for eight hours in TILLAMOOK and then drive back. Yes, Tillamook, as in the place where I got my ticket that's like an hour and a half away when you don't speed (which I don't do anymore... at least not for the time being) and takes the better part of a tank of gas to get there and back, at least in my 10 gallon tank it does...

My rough profits would have been about fifteen-twenty dollars for the day after the gasoline. Somehow, I just wasn't interested in working eight hours (plus driving for three) for twenty dollars... Go figure...

Some of you may have noticed, I recently did some house keeping on the blog. I added tags to almost all of my posts, and I tried to keep them uniform. While I really added them more for my personal use, anybody who wanted to do in-depth research on me (because I'm that interesting) could use them to do so, and could filter posts only relating to my personal philosophy, or to my early childhood, or what have you. Just thought I'd let you all know about my cool new feature on the blog... and by cool new feature, I mean I spent about ten minutes setting it all up... most of that was spent thinking for names of tags... I might have clicked on like, ten different buttons to do it all (not counting repeats). So cool new feature might be selling it as more than it is, but yeah. You get the idea.

-Stephen

You know it's bad when you don't even want to blog about it

I'm waiting, no praying for the rubber band people to come around and give me my good snap after all the bad. I don't even know where to start. I guess the very beginning is a good place. The weekend was going well, as all Meriwether weekends do, until I got pulled over for the first time. The officer claims he clocked me at 76 in a 55 zone. I was speeding, but I wasn't going 21 over. And he was an ass about it. Compounded by the fact that I didn't have registration and proof of insurance in the car. The let me off with a verbal warning and said he'd pull me over the next time he saw me to check if I had it. If I didn't, he intended to impound my car. Jackass. So I have a court date in a month. If it were in the city, I would fight it, but it's out in Tillamook, and the judge (the only judge) has a history of ridiculous findings, i.e. the testimony of one police officer outweighs the testimony of three civilians. So I don't know exactly what I'll do. I have, however, developed newfound disdain for the fuzz, flat feet, coppers, pigs, call them what you will. (side note: does anybody know the modern mean thing we call the police? I can't think of anything that isn't at least 20 years outdated...)

In other news, my little brother got arrested today. Imagine my surprise when I was at a kinder-concert with my little sister when my dad calls asking me to get my mom up to the school. The little sexual deviant has been accused of groping the breasts of three girls who expressly told him "no." He's not going back to school for the rest of the school year, and we've retained a lawyer. That means, of course, that any money my parents might have been thinking of giving me for school in the fall is now gone. We won't even get into the fact that I might just lose my little brother because the state decides my parents aren't doing a good job with him. Unlikely, but possible. Needless to say, I'm more than a little frustrated.

I went in to see a temp agency today, in hopes of finding some work. They said to let them know how I was doing for work later in the week and they'd let me know if they had any openings for me. They didn't seem hopeful though, due to my lack of clerical experience. She even gave me a list of other agencies more suited to my talents... Yipes...

Anyway, something good's got to happen soon, right? I mean, only so much bad stuff can happen before something really, really good has got to happen, right? Right? I don't think I had this much bad karma built up, so now the universe has to even things out, right? Maybe... Then again, maybe that's just stupid...

Uvula, Bank Fees, Internet, and Shaving.

I had the most interesting experience the other day. Have you ever seen a baby in front of a mirror when they first realize that it isn't another baby, but is in fact themselves? Did you ever notice the way the seem so genuinely intrigued and interested in their own anatomy, and like to make cooing noises as they figure out what "hands" are and how they work? If only they knew...
Anyway, I had a similar experience in front of the bathroom mirror on Tuesday. At least, I think it was Tuesday. See, my braces like to tear parts of my cheeks away, and in the freshly opened gaps, different things happen. Food gets lodged, bacteria start to grow, new cheek starts to cover over it all. The point is, I have to do some regular maintenance. Every other day or so, I go in and clean them out. Well, on Tuesday as I was cleaning out my braces cuts, I decided to depress my tongue. You know that line that goes down the back of your mouth? It isn't a solid structure! It's your Uvula! I was astonished, like you don't even know. I probably spent the next fifteen minutes playing with my uvula (not a euphemism) and making funny sounds. It was nice to be able to return to baby-land for a while and get all excited about a part of my anatomy with which I wasn't intimately familiar. I'm still kind of smiling just thinking about it. If you haven't discovered your uvula yet, I'd definitely advise it; it'll put a smile on your face.

I went to the bank today. Always a harrowing experience. I found out that nine days ago, they had hit me with about 143 USD worth of overdraft fees for charges that I had made almost a whole week before that. Heaven forbid they TELL ME! Especially since it was almost the end of the day on the date of my overdraft when I went to an ATM to check and it said that I still had a balance. The bank very kindly agreed to reverse 81 dollars worth of them, but... growl. The teller tells me, "It's not the bank's job to monitor your money." I honestly don't know why I would use a bank instead of keeping my cash in a jar under my pillow (other than the fact that that would make sleeping uncomfortable) if that's the truth. The entire POINT of the banking system is that they help you monitor your money. That's why we use banks instead of piggy banks! Growl. So, anyway, I'm back to being broke. And I still haven't started. I've given up on that job at the computer place. It doesn't take three weeks to run paper work. He shouldn't have offered if he didn't mean it. Jerk.

The internet is working again. When my parents moved, I only had internet access when I sat in just the right spot and the wind wasn't blowing so I could steal the neighbor's WiFi. The comcast man came by today. He wasn't remotely attractive, but he activated our internet access! So I can now surf for longer periods of time uninterrupted and get back to making comments; I've fallen behind.

For those of you who don't know, I was until recently blessed with the ability to go for long periods of time without shaving. I could push three weeks and only people who saw me moderately often would notice. Oh cruel world, it is no longer so! My chin hair isn't as soft as it used to be, or as blond! Do you know what that means? I actually have to shave regularly now. While a part of me is kind of excited because it's something that everybody else does and it kind of vindicates me as a man, it means that I have to get up a couple minutes earlier to make it out the door.

And I'm headed back to camp this weekend. I love camp. Really, truly, I won't ever be able to get married because I'm in love with camp. I may have already said that, but I'm too lazy to check. Less-journaly post to follow in near future.

-Stephen

Waffles

You know, I've never understood the English verb, to waffle. I mean, I understand what it means to waffle, but I don't quite get why. I like waffles. But wafflers are bad? It's all a bit confusing for me... And I really don't think it's because of the whole bilingual thing. Really, I just think it's confusing.

Anyway, this post is about me, and my propensity to waffle. You see, I was afraid of what would happen if I had a major situational change during a paradigm shift, but I'm starting to think that's just a rationalization for my immense propensity to waffle (hereafter PTW). As most of you know, a month ago I was pretty Gung-Ho for the church. It was what I wanted. I liked the way it made me feel, and I was happy when I was doing church related stuff. And I really felt like people within the church understood me. And by people within the church I mean you guys. That was a major player. But now, things aren't looking quite so lush. The temptations to just go out and get laid are stronger than I can really explain, especially since it's Portland and a one-night stand is just a craigslist post away. A full time relationship could be started just be spending some time at Starbucks, or going back to my old high school and hitting on guys at GSA meetings.

A few conversations with some very good friends has gotten me over thinking that I'm an inherently bad person for it all. If you took part in one of those, you know who are. Thanks. Seriously, thanks. What I've realized in the past couple of days is that I seem to have an abnormally high PTW. I'm not quite solid on what the source of it is, but it's there. And the thing that confuses me the most is: it's the issues that I feel the strongest about that I seem to waffle on the most. Talk about confusing.

I let this sit as a draft for a long(er) while, and now I think I'm ready to finish it. I no longer believe I have an abnormally high PTW. We all say it differently: Brady doesn't know where he wants to go, Gimple doesn't know where he belongs, iWonder is constantly torn between the desires of the church and himself. That's just to name a couple; I think all of you have expressed at some point or other some sort of confusion about what to do. My real problem is that I pretend to be decided when I'm really not. Even though I might feel completely decided for a couple of days, as soon as the event that polarized me begins to fade in my memory, I go back to middle ground. Or even further.

So, what to do? I'm not exactly sure. I know that presidents Monson and Uchtdorf are men of God. I can say that with only the most minimal and negligible of hesitations. Somehow though, that doesn't translate into the church being true and infallible, which is a step most Members in Provo seem to have made. On the flipside, I'll out and say it: I like sex. Sorry to any offended, shocked, or anything otherwise people, but that's the way it is. I like sex. With other guys. I also like relationships that don't involve sex, because it makes me feel like there is something more to live for. The problem? Most gay relationships seem to absolutely abound with sex. The relationship becomes nothing more than the fulfillment of physical passions and desires. I don't want that. And hereto is the dilemma.

I must choose, on the one hand, between a church that may or not may not be true, but has leaders that radiate an energy unlike anything describable, and on the other a lifestyle that has yet to offer me anything other than temporary fulfillment and fun. The one offers to fulfill my needs for the rest of eternity at the cost of my needs for the now; the other offers me all the satisfaction I could want for the rest of mortality, and nothing in the hereafter. Surely there must be a way to have them both? Happiness, fulfillment, joy, satisfaction, etc. in both lives? Why must the choice be between the one and the other?

Back from camp

I love camp! Love, love, love, love, love. Especially now that I'm a director and I actually have my own staff to deal with. It's a stressful job with more politics than any other workplace I've ever heard of, and I absolutely love it. Love, love, love it. If I had the money, I'd bring all of you up to my camp, and show you just how wonderful/beautiful/incredible it is. And the people are all so friendly, it's right on the beach, we have our own small desert, it's just the most perfect place ever for a boyscout camp.

One of the things I look forward to a bit less about this summer is that since it's a boyscout camp, I get to pretend to be straight. I'm also the only Mormon other than the camp director on senior staff. This is the first year in over a decade that's happened. That means I get to participate in such interesting conversation as, "When's the last time you got some?" "She's so hot" "If it was the only way you were ever going to get off again, would you take a blowjob from a guy?" and "What if you had to reciprocate?" All from the straightest perspective ever. I think that I can fake it with the best of them, and I managed to escape most of these conversations relatively unscathed, until about 6:00 in the morning when I suggested that we might want a couple hours of sleep. It's good practice, I guess, because if I can fool these guys with whom I'll be living and in constant contact for eight weeks this summer, I can fool anybody. But it is a little stressful, at times, to try to keep up that image. Meh, it just adds to the fun, kind of.

Oh, and before I go and leave you hanging, my blood results show that I have type 1 HSV. It sheds about 3 days a month, and 90% of the time is responsible only for oral legions (cold sores). The chance of it shedding and another person getting it from me unless I have sores of my own is negligible (said the physician). They think I've had it for a long, long time, and when I said my baby sister used to get cold sores all the time, she said, "oh, well you probably got it from her then!" So yeah, I'm fine. That was the only abnormal thing in my blood work. I don't have diabetes.

Camp

It's been a less than pleasant week for me. There was the whole Kevin thing, although he's tonight expressed that he wants to try spending more time together, I'm still pretty solid on the fact that he's just too young for me. There's the nightmare with my job. I still don't know when I'll be starting, and I really would like to have been working these last two weeks... that's over 600 dollars in missed wages we're talking about here. I would really not mind having that money, and I might need to go out and look for another job. The one place still needs translators... That's to say nothing of my car problems, which have thankfully been resolved, but were way less than fun anyway. And then, to top it all off, I went in for my pre-camp physical earlier this week, and they wanted samples of blood and urine to do some lab work. They just called and said that they wanted me to come in (tomorrow morning) to discuss my lab results with my DR. When I asked if it was bad, all they would tell me is that it wasn't HIV. At least I'm not dying... from that...

But, in much better news, I'm going to camp for the weekend! I'm not going camping, I'm going to camp! My lovely camp on the coast, that is the love of my life. Of course, I JUST realize that I haven't made up my lesson plans yet... they were due about a month ago and I was asked to bring them tomorrow... I might be spending some time working on that, but yeah... I'm just so excited. Not only to I get to spend the weekend in a place that makes me smile wider than Disney World, but I get to spend time with a lot of really close friends I've come to know from camp. It doesn't pay that great, but I love it too much to just leave them, you know? So, anyway, you can expect a post from me after the weekend, or during if we've got the internet access set up in the management areas already. I'll be giddy, and speaking gibberish, but you can expect a post.

I could ramble on for hours with stories about camp, but the short of it is, I love it. I love the camp itself, I love the people I work with, I love the program, I love everything about camp, and even these work weekends which I'll spend most of working are a cause for a massive celebration. So I'm celebrating. Period. I don't know if any of you can understand why it makes me so happy, but... I'm ecstatic. Or maybe even more. This place is like home... Where you feel a metaphysical connection to everything around you, deer, tree, fern, ocean, mountain, hill, gravel, lake, dirt, buildings, everything. It's just... it's... Yeah. It's just that good, and I don't have the words to explain it in either language.

Everything I touch turns to broken.

I opened the sun-roof in my car yesterday. Whoops.

Now it won't close. And it's at the mechanics... In case you couldn't tell, I'm thrilled. No, I'm more than thrilled, I'm stoked.

The guy who offered me a job has been too busy with Tennis Districts Matches to process my paper work...

Ungh.

Locks.

The funniest thing just happened.

So, I, having a bunch of pent up energy, just went on a jog to the gym. I found it to be closed. Feeling rather brilliant, I jogged back. The total jogging spent up most of that energy. It's 2:00 in the morning. Of course the gym is closed... Duh... Anyway, I put my key in the lock, and I turned it, and the funniest thing happened. Like, this is so funny you won't even believe me because I don't know how to put a picture up Blogger. The part that you put the key just popped out and refused to let go of my key. And by popped out, I mean completely separated itself from the door knob and the rest of the locking mechanism. Once I removed it completely, I turned the key a couple dozen times all the way around, and it finally let go. Under normal circumstances, this should have been extremely upsetting, but... I just had to laugh. Really. I'm struggling to stop laughing now.

-Stephen

P.S.
I figured out how to post pictures!
-Stephen

On Purpose

I really want to thank everybody that reads my Blog, even if you don't comment. You have, I'm sure, ten million things to do with your day, and the fact that you see it fit to take some of your valuable time to read my blog is really, really warming for me. So, thanks. I'd also like to say that if your blog is in the list on the left of my blog, I check it religiously for new posts. Pretty much every time I sit down with my laptop, I instinctively check those blogs, even if I don't comment. I love you all.

One of my problems is that sometimes I'm too rational for my own good. In light some interesting developments in the past 48 hours or so, it seemed like it was time to blog. I'm going to preface what follows with, "I'm not suicidal." You needn't worry about me in that regard. I don't like sharp things touching my skin. Bullets count as sharp. I'm also too fond of breathing to try some other methods, and my fear of heights that I strive so hard to hide keeps me from jumping off a bridge. All the poisons I have easy access to would kill me in a really unpleasant way or give me too much time to think about it and change my mind... Clearly, I'm out of options on that one, so suicide has to be out too.

Well, Kevin and I really aren't working out... He's really too young for me, and even though we have tons and tons in common... He's really too young for me... And he doesn't have a job... I can't afford a relationship where I pay for everything. :) But even if he did have a job... He's really too young for me...

I've had a lot of time to think while I've been waiting for my starting day at work, and I've asked a fundamental question to which I have no good answer. What am I doing here? I don't just mean Oregon, I mean here. Here, as in on earth, alive. I'm a goal oriented person. If I have some kind of goal to work towards, I could build and level empires. But here I am, sitting without a goal. I mean, I have some short term goals, pertaining to money and other nightmares, but they're short term. In the long run, what am I doing? Really, even in the short run, what am I doing? I'm going to the gym, I'm creating a whole new Stephen, but what's it accomplishing? So that I can make even more girls swoon when I read vegetable poetry? Seriously...

Well, the answer is: I don't know. I feel, purposeless. Almost all of my friends are stuck in school until summer; even the college aged ones are still away at school. Working out is producing favorable results, but I'm not really accomplishing anything. And it makes me tired and sore. So, what do I have to live for? I've spent the last 18 years living, and overall it's been an enjoyable experience, but how long can you really do something without it getting redundant? I'm not overcome by some great overwhelming sadness or anything, I just don't see why I'm bothering anymore. It doesn't seem like my existence is really improving anybody else's life at all, or like I'm advancing toward any kind of goal or anything.

It's not like I need constant progress to say that I have a purpose: even just hanging around with friends is improving their quality of life (hopefully) and that's enough of a purpose to hold me over for a while. But when I look at it, I can't see myself getting married to a woman. Since there does not exist an X such that X is unmarried and X is in the highest level of the celestial Kingdom, I can't see myself there. Since there does not exist and X such that X is not in the highest level of the celestial Kingdom and X becomes a god, I cannot see myself ever reaching that goal. And it kills me. Knowing, then, that this goal is forever beyond my reach, where does that leave me? What is my motivation? I can't find one. That's what I need.

I need a motivation. Some higher something that I'm trying to fulfill, some higher ideal that I'm striving toward. Gosh, these posts are therapeutic sometimes... But knowing what I need doesn't give it to me. Maybe, hopefully soon, I'll find a motivation. Until then, I get to sit in this limbo. I'm not motivated to do anything self destructive. I'm just not really motivated not to. I don't know... maybe this is all more effort than it's worth and I should move on to the Chicago plan. I'd thought that would only serve me in an emergency, but now it's looking quite tempting just as a change of pace...

-Stephen

On The Wall

When my family first moved to Oregon, and America by extension, my mother wanted a wall in her Garden. Not just any wall, a giant fancy wall for retaining water made out of manor stones. They were quite trendy at the time, and she didn't realize that Americans aren't social creatures who sit in the gardens and have cake with their neighbors. She was rather upset when she found that out... Anyway, these bricks weighed about 25 kilos each, and we lay them in straight and curves lines, and then in lines on top of those lines, and so on and so forth, until the wall was finished. Then we filled in the area behind the wall with super nutritious soil for our new garden.

This latest project finished, what to do? Well, sure as heck not play on the wall. My mother had to keep the garden in pristine condition so that she could entertain. Forgive me while I curse unsociable, unneighborly Americans here for a moment. Alright, now that that's out of my system, eventually she realized that no matter how nice she kept the garden, no matter how rustic the chairs and good smelling the cakes, the neighbors only ever left their houses to do yard work or pick up their kids. Never to socialize with other neighbors. She gave up, heartbroken. But the good news was, that meant that we, the kids, could play on the wall.

It wasn't a difficult balancing act. Manor stones are rather large and flat on the tops, and there was no problem keeping good balance. But sometimes, there would be a gust of wind, or being so young, we might just lose our balance. Then, it was kind of scary. On one side, there was the nice, soft, imported moss from Ireland. (You have no idea what a nightmare it was to keep that stuff alive... Especially with the stupid clovers...) On the other side was about an eight foot fall to the pavement below. Usually when we fell, we were good enough with shifting our weight to land on the moss, and we'd get yelled at a little, but it would be OK.

One day, I was running along the wall, and playing with my kid brother, who we've called James. I turned, and slipped, and fell. This time though, there was no shifting my weight so I'd fall on the moss. I broke my arm and rent lots of clothes and skin. (manor stone retaining walls are not good for falling down. I might drive by later and take a picture of the front so you can see what I'm talking about.) Anyway, my little brother screamed, I was much too shocked for that. My father came running out, and took me to the emergency room. (Don't get me started on how much better Oregon Health Sciences University is than the stupid Utah Valley Regional Medical Centre. Growl.) I was pretty sure I would never run on that stupid wall again. After all, look at what had happened to me. A month or so after I got the cast off, I was running on the wall again. I had clearly not learned my lesson.

Sometimes, I feel like that's what I spend time doing. Running on the wall. It's not like I have to run on the wall, and it's not like I really get anything out of it. And look, there's that 8 foot fall down a manor stone wall just waiting for me. So why do it? I feel... defective. Like, rationally, I should have learned my lesson by now. Running along the wall gets you hurt. But for some reason, I keep running along the wall.

Eventually, I grew out of running along the real wall. Maybe some day, I'll grow out of my new wall too? How many times do I have to break my arm before I'll learn?

It's May! It's May! The Lusty Month of May!

Every now and then it's important to focus on something besides that issue which clouds up most of our thoughts and issues. This blog will try to do that until the very end, where I have a couple of things I need to unload. Anyway, for those of you who know me moderately well, you know when I'm not out Boyscouting, my job is in the theatre. As a result, I try to keep myself well read in terms of plays and musicals so that I can keep up with any conversations. I also like to keep up on history (because it changes so often!). Between it all, I've noticed some trends.

Almost month, almost every season, almost every everything seems to be an excuse to go out and get laid! From Camelot, we have the title of my post. Isn't that an interesting song? Rogers' and Hammerstein's give us, "June is Busting Out All Over" from their musical, Carousel. The song is one giant, nasty innuendo. Gross. Did you know that Hl.St. Valentine's day was actually placed on the same day as an old Roman sex holiday, which was itself selected because of a correlation to the birds mating season? Back to the theatrical, "Summer Love" from Grease seems appropriate to the conversation at hand. As does the concept of a "Spring Fling" although I don't have a catchy song to cite here.

So, why is it that people feel the need to blame their thoughts and actions on something else. Or do people actually become more, erm, "active" in the spring and summer? I mean, if it were just May, or just June, or even just Summer, I could understand it, but half the year now seems to be dedicated to having sex... Maybe we need to tone it down... Maybe we need to have a summer not-love song, or an, "It's May!, It's May! The Celibate Month of May!". But then, I guess that probably wouldn't sell as well, would it?

Now on to complications in my life, that I'm really less than thrilled about. Yesterday I found out that I am both loved and hated. I mean, I've always had a fan club and people that dislike me, but it's usually a professional thing because I was so good at debate. To see that anybody has actually developed a hatred for me as a personal, private citizen is more than moderately upsetting. Especially since that somebody is my little brother. Yeah, we'll call him James.

I asked him yesterday why he was so angry since I'd gotten back, and he said to me, "I hate you, I think you're a pompous jackass, and having you home is like torture for me. I don't want to talk about it." For the record, Merriam Webster, which I really dislike, told me that "pompous" means "magnificent, splendid." I guess that's kind of cool. I can be a splendid jackass, I guess...
We talked a little, but eventually he closed up. This morning, he asked me if he could start working out with me. I think the kid's Bipolar. You don't tell somebody you hate them and then ask if you can work out with them... at least, most people don't...

Kevin and I had a long conversation yesterday. He understands that I can't, and won't, have sex with him, no matter how serious we get. And he seems to be wholly kosher with that. The problem is that he later slipped out the "L" word. For fear of judgement, I don't want to get into all the specifics of that conversation, but I have no idea what I'm going to do now... I really would like to not have to stop spending time with him, but I can see that he's taking me in a direction I don't want to go... At least, I don't think I want to go in that direction... Ungh...