Category: near and dear

all about me, near and dear, show the love

picking up right where we left off…

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I had a great lunch today with one of my best friends in the whole world, who is pictured here with me. We met way back at the beginning of my freshman year of college, at a little university called Campbell University in the not-quite-a-town of Buies Creek, NC.

I met Margaret one night early in the school year, when we were all going to go out clubbing, and my first memories of her are of her cussing out some people, telling them she was going to kill them if they didn’t back their fucking car up (because they were blocking us in). Needless to say, I thought she was a bit crazy at that moment, but I was quickly proven wrong. Margaret and I quickly became best friends, spending almost every minute together. After our freshman year, we both left the school, but stayed in touch, much in the way you do with long distance friends; with only the occasional call or email or letter.

Over the years, even though we rarely saw each other, each time we did, it was like we just picked right up where we left off. There was never a reacquaintence awkward period; it was always right back to the best friends that were brought together way back in our freshman year.

When I was finishing my final semester at ECU, Margaret broke up with her then boyfriend, and felt like she had to move to warmer climates (away from Pennsylvania), and so she came to live with me. We lived together for about 5 months or so, and during that time, she was the very first person that I came out to. Margaret was there for one of the biggest things that has ever happened to me in my life, and I am grateful that she was the person that supported me in the way she did. I am glad that it was her that first heard me say those faithful words, “I’m gay”; because I could think of no one more suitable.

Margaret has always been one of those friends that has been there. I know that even though she and I hardly see each other, that she is just a phone call away, and that when we do meet up again, it will be just like old times. It is rare to have friends like this, that transcend time and distance, but Margaret is definitely one of those friends. It was great seeing her and her fiance’ today, and I can’t wait until our next meeting.

Until then… She is getting married next March, so I know that I will see her then for sure… so now I just need to focus on losing weight for the wedding!! Here’s to great friends like Margaret, who are always there in your life.

cream of the crop, funnies, is it just me?, near and dear, tragic

Why me? Dammit, Coke, you’ve done it again!

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I can’t believe that this is happening again.

Why me?

It is becoming more and more clear, that I must have a target painted on my chest that says, “hey Coca-Cola, feel free to fire at will.”.

Alas, unfortunately, what I speak of is not the first betrayal of my trust in tasty beverages. Coke has forsaken me in the past, and now, they have come back to re-open the wound. Although, it appears that this time, they seek to leave a permanent aching scar. This begs me again to ask, why, Coke, why do you do this to me?

To begin, we should probably reminisce for a moment, to gain a little perspective into the past betrayal I have fallen victim to. Back in November of 2005, I read that Diet Coke Vanilla, the tastiest tasty beverage in the world, was being phased out, to be replaced (as if) by Diet Black Cherry Vanilla. I was so devastated and hurt, that I wrote Coke a letter. My cries went unheard, and my pleas went unanswered. When Coke continued twisting the knife in my gut, I finally conceded defeat, and gave in to their demands; I bid farewell to my faithful friend, Diet Vanilla Coke. Fortunately, the wound healed, as Diet Black Cherry Vanilla proved to be an adequate, although definitely subordinate, replacement. Diet Black Cherry Vanilla was like a bandage on my wound (a second love, if you will), and over the years, it has truly healed, and I finally felt whole again.

I honestly thought, that I was on a plateau again. I could smell the flowers, breathe the air in peace, and enjoy tasty beverages again. I was me again. My faith in Coca-Cola was restored, and it showed me, that they had never truly left me, even though they had to hurt me in the process of showing me. But, I never expected, that again, we would be heading down this dark road. I never thought that Coca-Cola would stoop that low again, especially after I have proven time and again, that yes, I am loyal. Yes. I will stay. Yes. I do love you, Coke.

But I sit here, with a tear in my eye, to tell you, that a dark day has come once again. Three little words that should have meant excitement and the potential return of an old friend have left bitter feelings of betrayal once again: Vanilla Coke Zero. At first, I thought this was a new dawn for my old friend. A new, fresh start, in a place where I could proclaim my love openly and freely again, without fear of retribution. I hoped that I could once again frolic with my long lost tasty pal, Diet Vanilla Coke, but this time, it would have a new name, and a new look; but underneath have the same heart and soul that I had fallen in love with so long ago.

When I first saw the case of Vanilla Coke Zero, I gasped. It was like seeing an old friend after years of being apart. I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, welling up with excitement; this was going to be a good day. I could feel it. It wasn’t even on sale, but that didn’t stop me. I bought a case, put it in my car, and knew I was bringing an old friend home again. When I got there, I unloaded the car, and brought my friend inside, and made it comfortable amongst the other refrigerated items. The anticipation was very high, but I knew it was going to be worth it.

Several hours later, I was finally ready to be reacquainted with my old friend, and anxiously, I reached for a can. This was the time, I thought to myself. This is it. My hand was shaking as I popped the top, and in an instant, a sweet nectar was flowing from the can.

But what I felt wasn’t relief. It wasn’t a sense of togetherness, and reunion. It was a taste I had tasted before; the bitterness of betrayal. Only, this time, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. This “replacement” was no formidable, nor acceptable, equivalent to my new friend, Diet Black Cherry Vanilla. This new stranger was no friend at all. It was all a lie.

I asked myself, where was the vanilla flavor, the flavor that had gotten me through many nights of studying in grad school? Where was the sweet deliciousness that had quenched my thirst on many a hot Atlanta summer’s eve? Where was my desire that I had been longing for all these years? And perhaps most of all, I wondered, why would Coca-Cola give me false hope that they were bringing back a first love, when it was all a lie, and to make it worse, this new “beverage” will take away the new love too? I feel so alone.

The answers I seek are tragically simple. My love is lost. Forgotten. Tossed aside, and buried. Coca-cola has truly shit on our friendship. They have shown me that loyalty does not equal trust. Loyalty will be rewarded with second-rate less-than-tasty beverages that will phase out even your new friends, the friends that helped you recover after last time. Loyalty means nothing. And that truly hurts.

I can only hope, even though it is a small amount of hope, that Coca-Cola is still working towards perfecting this recipe, and that future shipments will contain more deliciously tasty vanilla flavor; because even through the cynical callous that has become my tastebuds, I can tell that there is at least a hint of it there. They want it to be there; even the name suggests that this is so. I, of course, want it to be there too. I can only hope, that it will be in the future.

Coca-Cola, listen to me, I beg you. Please. Please do not disappoint me, after this, your second betrayal. Please, send forth an adequate replacement for my new friend, who tried its best to replace my one true love. Please, for the sake of my tasty beverage enjoyment, think of us, those that provide you with the loyalty and brand recognition you desire, and give us what we need; a tasty, calorie free, truely vanilla coke. I pray my cries will be heard. But alas, at this moment, I am bewildered, lost, and afraid. I can only hope that the future will hold good things, but only time will tell. Only you have the power to truly fix this situation, and I will just have to wait and see if you will.

Yes, only time will tell.

all about me, happenings, near and dear

when I grow up…

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I had my meeting at GSU yesterday, and I got more than I was expecting; I got a huge dose of hope. I went into the meeting a little bit apprehensive, because going back to school seems like the biggest step in the whole world, but I am more confident now, that I am going to make it.

Turns out, they are going to count many of my undergrad classes towards the admission guidelines (YAY!), and, of the courses that I have to take that are prerequisites, I can take them online, or at a another school. This is great news, as I was hoping to be able to knock out those prerequisites quickly, and doing them online will give me the opportunity to do just that. Additionally, I don’t have very many of those courses to take before I can apply to the nursing program.

This has been something that has been a long time in the making, and instead of feeling overwhelmed as I walked across the GSU campus, I felt excited. I am truly invigorated that I am making small steps at improving my happiness, and improving my life. My goals don’t seem so far out of reach now, and I honestly feel like this is something that I can do. I feel like I will be able to take the steps that I need, and never look back. I need to now focus on starting the journey, and realize that the end will come; as long as I keep moving.

It is funny, sort of, that I was so worried about going back to school. See, while I hated undergrad (mostly because of the school I was at, and just the issues of being in the closet), and didn’t do too terribly well, grad school was an amazing experience. I learned so much, not only about the world, and how people and culture adapt and survive, but about myself as well. I learned that I can really do anything I put my mind to, and I have to start believing that again. I actually liked school when I was in grad school, so it is funny that a BSN program seemed such a far stretch; when chances are, even though it will be tough, and probably difficult at times, I am sure that I will enjoy it, and I know that I can do it.

They are definitely right when they say that going to school later in life usually makes for a better student; you just don’t look at things the same way, and you have matured to a place where you know how important the whole thing is. Also, you REALLY know how much those classes are costing, so you take them more seriously (at least, that was the case for me).

So, now that I have made this step to find out what I need to go to nursing school, what next? I have a list of the prerequisites that I must fulfill, and I am going to begin doing some searching for programs and schools that I can take them at. I also would like to look into as many different options for nursing schools as possible; especially online programs, because of their convenience. Any help from any of you is much appreciated (hint hint).

Wish me luck. In fact, continue wishing me luck for the long haul; I am going to need it. Perhaps, in a few years, I’ll get to be what I want to be when I grow up…

hmm interesting, near and dear, show the love

fire, big steps, and a few loves

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Last night, my friend Deb stopped by to talk with me about my most recent lens that I acquired, and when we were walking them out, James casually mentions that the house behind us is on fire. Well, imagine my surprise when it was engulfed in flames! The way he mentioned it, it just seemed like it was a small fire. Either way, the house is empty, and has been since it was built. My bet, is that it was for insurance claims, as the house has been in the state of “being built” for over 2 years now. I’m just glad that no one was hurt. The response was very fast, and there were tons of fire trucks that showed up. When we came home from my friend John’s new loft (which is awesome), there was still one sitting out there. It was interesting, though, that I haven’t seen a crew at the house for about a month, and they were out there this morning when I left for work. Hmmm…. Here’s a picture that I got of the incident:
neighbor's house on fire

Today, I have a meeting at GSU, to talk with someone at the nursing school about what I need to do to get into the program, and get started in getting my nursing degree. While I am definitely nervous (this was the big step I referred to in an earlier post), I am excited. I hope that I can get started as soon as possible, because I really need to make some changes in my life. The only one that is going to do it is me. To piggyback on that, I really want to say, that it is an amazing feeling to know that you have family out there that totally support you, and love you. Those same family members want you to succeed, and want nothing more than for you to be happy. That is something that I haven’t always had (well, I have, but I experienced more of that bad, than their good), and it is great to know that it is there for me now. You know who you are, and I greatly appreciate you. When you have family problems, it is wonderful to know that there are at least a couple of people in your family that really act like family.

Finally, I am totally loving Heroes. That is like the best show ever. I can’t wait for it to come out on DVD. Also, I got a new lens for my camera, and while I was totally excited about it, after playing around with it, I don’t think that it is what I really needed, and I am going to take it back and get the EF-S 60mm f/2.8 USM macro instead. I am hoping that the return goes smoothly, because I REALLY want the macro lens. Keep your fingers crossed!

That’s about all for this Tuesday, ya’ll! Hope things are going well for everyone out there in the blogosphere!

all about me, cream of the crop, hmm interesting, is it just me?, mixed media, near and dear, show the love

but what about what I need?

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… what about me?

That’s what Effie White asks of her friends in Dreamgirls, when they ask her to sacrifice for the betterment of the whole group. I have been having the same questions run through my brain lately, with regards to friends, family, acceptance, etc, and I have to say, I think that while Effie does have a point, I realize that the group has an equally valid point, as well. Effie needs her needs met, and she feels that they aren’t being seen by those in the group. Meanwhile, the group also needs their needs met, and in order for that to happen, Effie has to give in. This doesn’t make Effie selfish or a bad person, it just illustrates that in many cases, we don’t understand the dynamics of our feelings. She also illustrates that she is truly considerate, because she does bend. (well, until she breaks, but that is Dreamgirls… we are talking about me now)

I have recently taken some extensive time to evaluate what I need, and how I go about meeting those needs. I have been asking myself the above questions, and I feel like I haven’t given enough consideration to what the “group” needs. I have made the same mistake as Effie, by worrying more about my own needs, and not realizing, that my needs can be met, even if not in the way that I had expected. Additionally, and most importantly, I am ultimately in charge of meeting my own needs.

Fact of the matter is, through my reflection and examination of my current situation and feelings about friends, family, etc, I have realized that first and foremost, it is up to me to make things happen. Instead of saying, “what about me” to someone else, I need to say it to myself. I need to then realize what they have on their plate, and hopefully, we can come to some sort of middle ground. And if not, I need to realize that in the end, it is always up to me to make myself happy. It is always up to me to make myself feel good about myself; and that should be my focus.

I have got to stop seeking approval for things that need no approval. Additionally, I MUST stop seeking approval for that which has been approved of. I have got to stop worrying about what goes on in ways that I don’t understand, especially in cases when they don’t necessarily meet my needs. I realize that some of those people that I question, really do want to work with me. They really do want what’s best for the “group”, which definitely includes me. They want me to be happy, but they too realize, that the only person that can make them happy, is themselves; so they expect me to realize that, and adjust as necessary. Until now, I admit that I have been ignorantly guilty of not doing that as much as I should. I want to do better.

Given my recent introspective thought, and time spent examining how I handle things, feelings, and actions, I hope that I have reached a new place where I can start to ask myself “but what about me?”, as opposed to displacing that onto the “group”. I hope that from here on out, I can realize that it is up to me to make myself happy, and instead of questioning things too much, over-analyzing things that shouldn’t be analyzed at all, and continually seeking approval for that which has been previously approved of, I can focus more on making myself happy. I know that ultimately, these are distractions that keep me from being happy, and I inadvertently find myself doing them to people over and over again, not out of malicious intent, but out of vicious coping mechanisms that were built to deal with my childhood.

I hope that I can change… but it is going to be more than a retrospective thought process. This is going to take some time. So, Dreamgirls, please bear with me. I want what’s best for us, and I don’t want to give up on us. Know that I really care, and I am working on it. Epiphany can be a powerful thing; as it has proven to recently be. So, know that I am trying. As Effie says later in the film, “I am changing. Trying every way I can. I am changing. I’ll be better than I am.”

And you know what, I am changing. And I will be better than I am.

is it just me?, listen up!, near and dear, show the love, that is so gay, venting

the myth of the gay ideal

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… and those that are hurt most by it.

Imagine my surprise at what I read on my buddy Vince’s blog yesterday. I can’t believe that people could be so cruel to such a great person. Seriously, it has become more and more clear to me during my tenure as an out gay man, that being fat somehow makes you less of a man in the gay community.

It is a pretty clear (and actually quite accurate) stereotype that the tongue of a gay man can be as sharp as a knife, and when criticism comes out of a gay man’s mouth, it will certainly cut to the bone. Gay men seem to have this amazing ability to criticize, demean, belittle, and insult things they see as worthy of that negative attention, mostly because we have been schooled so expertly in the craft of criticism. I know I learned a lot about criticism and insult, and I would bet that many learned it as I did; by being on the receiving end of said criticism. Because of our continual experience with being hurt, we learned how to turn it around, even expertly, on the world that hurt us. But, the more I slip outside of that notion of a “gay community”, and go out to bars less and less, I notice more and more how this criticism is not only reserved for our attackers; we use it against other gays, and in that action, become just like those that hurt us.

I remember sitting in my 7th grade class, with my head down on my desk, while the boys in the class continually called me a girl, and one even put a tampon on my chair between my legs. I could barely hold back tears, and all the while, the teacher did nothing to stop it. I can remember being insulted in the halls, ridiculed in the lunch room, and criticized for being gay at every turn; all the way through school. And as such, I am an expert in criticism. Unfortunately, like many gay men, I turned my criticism inwards, and I criticise everything about myself; my weight, my appearance, everything I do, everything I make, etc. Unfortunately, many gay men, once they come out and get a sense of feeling good about themselves because of the acceptance they receive from the gay community, they take that criticism one step too far; they instantly turn some it outward towards those that don’t fit that perfect “gay standard”.

Boys with more than 5% body fat, and those that can’t wear the skin tight jeans and t-shirts are the first to get that criticism. It is typical, too typical, for the “perfect” gay men to criticize, and even look through gay men that weren’t blessed with perfect genes, or those that aren’t willing to kill themselves in the gym (or take tina) just to fit into a pair of 32s. Instantly, all of that criticism that hurt us so badly when we were growing up is coming out of our mouths, being used to describe members of our own community. How can we scream at the top of our lungs about equality and community, when we constantly whisper behind the fat, short, balding, “less than perfect” guy’s backs? How can we do this and not be hypocrites?

I for one like my chunky boys. Most of the people who know me know this. I don’t want some skinny thing, I want a man. I want a man with chest hair and a little bit of meat on him, six pack abs are totally lost on me. If you want to impress me, you are wasting your time with that “perfect body” crap. But unfortunately, the gay community doesn’t share my view; there is so much pressure to be that “prefect” guy, that we have divided ourselves, and instead of actually being a community, we have sectioned off ourselves to associating with the small groups of likeness based on body types. The gym boys hang with the gym boys. The bears hang with the bears. And there is very little intermingling.

And why is that? Because of the criticism. Both sides have their criticisms, but I would bet that the criticism coming from the gym boys is stronger, because it is reflective of both society’s negative view of heavier people, coupled with the increased pressure created by the gay community itself. How hard must it be to finally get the courage to come out and seek acceptance from those like you, only to have insult come from the group that is supposed to be just like you? It is something that many see, but for some reason, it still goes on.

I say, that if we truly want to be a community, we need to stop clinging to this myth of a gay “ideal”. The real truth, is that many of those guys that are killing themselves in the gym (or are just taking tina), have immense amounts of internal pressure on them to maintain that “perfect body”. They are so terrified to get “fat”, because of the realization that they would fall victim to the very criticism they themselves sling at fat gay men. But, if we didn’t do that to gay men in the first place, hopefully some of that pressure would be lifted, and everyone would be a little happier. My point is, it is shameful to prance around like you are somehow better than someone else because they are fat, and you have six pack abs. We are all a part of the gay community, fat and thin, and we gays need to stop overly enforcing the social oppression that we face by turning it inward on our own. If you have a problem with someone just because of their weight, and feel the need to be cruel (as the person was to Vince), obviously, there are some issues that you have to work out. In the mean time, would you mind being a little bit more considerate, as the rest of the community still has feelings, and only wants a little acceptance from the other gays, okay? Thanks.

hmm interesting, is it just me?, mixed media, music musings, near and dear, that is so gay, the catch-all-egory

mismanaged monday meandering

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Alliteration, bitch, WHAT!?

So yeah, lots in my head today. Here we go.

  • I am still sort of reeling from the news that my friend is positive. He hasn’t told me, but I want to talk to him. Not sure of how to do that without seeming totally conspicuous. Perhaps I will use another friend as a contact. We’ll have to see where this goes.
  • I am not attracted to Ray Lamontagne at all (way too shaggy), but I definitely love him. His music is awesome. I am seriously all, Damien Rice who(?) now. HA!
  • I can’t believe that this article was written recently. Seriously, a checklist to see if your husband is gay? So basically, if your husband hates gay people, or, if he likes them and surround himself with gay people, he must be gay. Well, that is pretty much everyone, the gay haters, and the gay supporters; we must all be gay! WTF? I would like to believe that times are becoming more progressive, but people still holding these antiquated views of homosexuality really show that we have a long uphill battle ahead. Now, while I am sure that it is very difficult for a woman to discover that she is married to a gay man, I don’t like that the gay men are painted as some sort of predatory manipulator that is trying to take advantage of the marriage situation, just to make himself feel better (without regard for his wife’s feelings). That is just BS, and we all know it (at least, we should). Being gay is hard, and admitting it and living it is even harder; but getting married because you aren’t okay with your homosexuality isn’t some sort of manipulation game you are playing with, it is obviously way more complex than that. I just can’t believe that there is a checklist that reinforces all of those stupid stereotypes. Ugh, I would like to think that we are normalizing homosexuality, but things like this are just creating more stigma. Bleck.
  • I really don’t know how I feel about this. I mean, it is good that Barbara Walters is bring attention to something that really goes unnoticed (that is, until someone is beaten to death because they are transgendered) and something that is utterly shunned, but I don’t know what the impact on these kids will be. First of all, a HUGE kudos to the parents who support their children; I hate those so-called Christians that throw their children out because they didn’t come out exactly like “God made them”, i.e. “normal”. At least there are parents who are supporting their children. I guess my concern, is that exposure as transsexual really does put them at risk for those nutsos that really would want to beat them to death for who they are. I just have hope that people can change, you know? I just want the world to be more tolerant; is that so much to ask? Until the answer to that question is a resounding ‘no’, I will be concerned for people that deal with situations like being transgendered, and even for those that have the unfortunate circumstance of being gay in a very homophobic area. Be careful!
  • I painted two paintings last night. I think that it is definitely one of the first times I have painted something, and was very pleased with the initial results. It came out exactly as I imagined, and I haven’t second guessed the project at all. I am kind of floored with my lack of criticism, to be quite honest. I will put some pictures up, hopefully this afternoon. I can’t wait to hang them up!! It also reminds me of my utter wish that I could do creative things for a living… but alas, I do live in the real world, not the dream world where I get to do things I enjoy for a living…
  • Finally, a HUGE WTF for this story. I mean seriously… not one spider, but TWO SPIDERS were living in this kid’s ear. That freaks me the fuck out. My grandma was just telling me the other day that she cleaned out her boyfriend’s ears, and got a pea-sized amount of wax out (EW!) because he NEVER cleans them. WTF?! I am very weird about stuff in my ear, and I am just shivering thinking about a spider being in there. Yikes!

Yeah, so um, yeah. That’s what’s going on with me right now. How about you?

hmm interesting, near and dear, show the love, that is so gay

a strange way to try and commit suicide

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It isn’t a secret that getting a positive diagnosis from an HIV test is jarring, and can potentially cause suicidal thoughts, but very few follow through on their actions, and actually commit suicide. Strangely enough, that is not the case for two men that found out they were positive in midtown Atlanta. In fact, that is only where the strange begins.

Apparently, the two men found out they were positive, and having that news coupled with some issues with their business, they decided it would be best to commit suicide. But they decided they would do it by cutting off their arms. Now, I am not making fun of this case in the slightest, in fact, my heart goes out to these two men and anyone who would be so down that they would want to take their own life. But I can’t believe that this was the option to end their lives that they thought of. This must have been excruciatingly painful, not to mention, downright strange. I can’t imagine inflicting this level of pain on yourself in order to get away from the pain of your life. And, it appears that they were saved before they were able to bleed to death; so now, they have to live without arms.

I really can’t believe that this late in the epidemic this response was the one these men chose. I would have hoped they would have sought the counseling they need, and I hope that everyone that finds themselves contemplating suicide seeks out help as well. While this is a strange and unusual case, it is definitely horrible that these men decided to inflict this pain on themselves. I hope that they are at least getting the help they need now.

Also, I found out today that a friend of mine recently tested positive for HIV. I don’t know what to say. I haven’t talked to him in a while, and honestly, I am pretty surprised. One of the things I am most surprised about, is that I heard that he felt it was “inevitable”. That really hurts me, and makes me feel extremely sad; because gay men should not have this view of infection. We can prevent it. We just have to work at it, and not give up. I hope that my friend is okay. I hope that he and I can talk about it soon.

Kind of weird stuff for a Sunday, but there it is, kids. Hope your weekend is going well.

all about me, near and dear

distraction, focus, and pressure

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Distraction. We all experience it. Sometimes, it is all there is in me. Sometimes, it is all that you can get from me. But, when I got to the lowest point of my depression, even distraction didn’t work for me. Distraction moved out of the way for apathy.

For some, distraction is a bad thing. It keeps them from focusing on the real issues that plague them; the real issues that keep them bundled up in that depressive state. It’s weird, because when I was talking about my concern over an issue, yesterday, he became more focused on the fact that it was merely a distraction. Distraction is no longer giving way to apathy.

But, he worried that distraction meant a lack of focus. Focus on what was most important; getting out of this depressive cycle, by making real changes on the real issues that plague me. He thought this was distracting me away from the hard stuff, with the invention of new issues. Interesting.

But what is more interesting, is that distraction is focus. At least for me. When I distract myself on a new issue, a new pursuit, a new idea that I can ponder; I am freeing myself from apathy. When I scream at the top of my lungs about an issue to those who disagree, even though I know they will never change; I am focused on something. And regardless of where it came from; I am a little bit less apathetic. It may seem futile, and it may seem distracting, but it is my way of bringing things a little bit more into focus.

And little by little, the more issues I focus on, the more the big ones move into my line of sight, and it is harder for me to avoid them. I begin to focus on those things, which makes me want to focus on the big things. And recently, I took a step; a small step, but a step. I set up a chance to begin taking on one of the big things. And I am scared. But I am still focused.

Focused on that issue. But now comes the hard part; the pressure. I can’t let it overcome me like it has for so many years. I have to maintain focusing on these distractions, so that this big one won’t get away. I can’t ignore it anymore; and that is a LOT of pressure.

all about me, hmm interesting, near and dear, sex (oh yeah), well?

I want my pink shirt back!

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And by pink shirt, I mean foreskin. (yikes!)

Most people know that I am not for circumcision, that is, unless you choose it for yourself. I believe that aesthetics, unsubstantiated HIV “prevention”, hygiene, and personal preference are not solid enough arguments (even when strung together) to justify genital mutilation. And I want mine back.

I have looked into it, and there are TONS of different methods and things available to restore one’s foreskin. There is even a society, dedicated to the cause! While I am not willing to undergo surgery, I really think it would be great to regain a part of my body that was taken from me without my permission. Do I think that I can’t live without it? No. But, I do think that if there is a pain-free way of getting it restored, why not give it a shot, right? I mean, it is MINE after all! (well, it WILL be mine)

James didn’t seem to happy about the idea, and insisted that I go and talk to our doctor. Since he wants that, I will make an appointment, but I don’t think that this is really a medical thing. The procedures are practically the same thing a body piercer would do in conjunction with you to stretch your ears, or any other piercing site. People have stretched ears, and it was not done by a doctor; it is a body modification. In the case of the foreskin, it is restoring the body to its original state. It is stretching the skin so that it will be like it was, or like it should have been, that is, if it wasn’t hacked off when I was a wee little thing. This is something private, that I kind of want for myself; that poses no real harm if I do it (I know how to keep my body clean; trust me).

I am still contemplating it, mainly because of the time commitment, but I seriously think that this would be a pretty cool thing to have foreskin. Just based on the fact that it would make things more sensitive, as well as the fact that it would give me back what was taken from me without my permission, I think that this idea is a good one. I don’t necessarily have a time line in mind of when said “restoration” would begin and end, but it is definitely a thought mulling around in my brain.

Now, if you are wondering what got me thinking about this in particular, it was two things. First of all, fellow blogger Joel sent me this article, in which the author likens the removal of the foreskin to the removal of cataracts. I wholeheartedly disagree, mainly because the foreskin is something that every boy is born with, and it is not a disease that causes harm to the body. And second, to build on that, a colleague of mine got into a discussion about it yesterday (good timing, huh?), who insisted that it was a good idea because of hygienic reasons, to which I promptly reminded him that you can just keep it clean instead of hacking it off. Can you imaging sewing up your asshole because shit comes out? Exactly! You learn to wipe your ass! So, that is where this whole thing it came from.

But don’t think that I made this decision (I haven’t ordered anything yet) without giving this a lot of thought; I have. I would say that I have actually given this a fair amount of thought for over a year, and this instance of discussing it just pushed it to the front of my brain.

I am interested to see what ya’ll think… I mean, not so much about me restoring my foreskin, because, well, I don’t want everyone actively thinking so much about my penis; but just the idea of the restoration itself? I personally see it as a way to do something for yourself that is totally attainable, if you should want to do it. Body modification/restoration. Nothing invasive, and nothing that would cause any harm. In fact, it wouldn’t even be a big deal if you didn’t know I did it. Right?