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shadows

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    Politics, Middle East and East Asian History, Action movies of all sorts.

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  1. Dear Gayauthors, I feel as though I owe you an update. I know it's been awhile, but I feel as though there might be a few who care enough to know what's going on in my life. For those few of you who know me, it's good to see you again. For those of you who don't, well enjoy the schadenfreude. First, the good: I've succeeded beyond my wildest imagination. I share the most powerful position in a student government that has managed to wield considerable power. Academically I've done well; I impressed a Professor who's known not only for sending her students onto top notch grad schools but for the drunken therapy sessions those professors now hold at academic conferences. Extracurricularly, I was in Washington DC working on Capitol Hill for a Representative (sadly less glamorous then you might think). Socially speaking I have numerous friends. I passed by a Lacrosse Party and someone shouted my name as a greeting. I've never attended a Lacrosse game in my life. On the surface I lead a charmed life. Now, the bad. Last week was so eventful that I was asked to speak on the Tyra Banks show. No, I'm not joking. That's not a metaphor or hyperbole. The e-mail resides in my inbox. Selfishly speaking I'm single and have been for five months. That's not likely to change anytime soon. The freshmen are too young for me and to say that I know the rest of the gay upperclassmen would be an understatement. We all know each other and by this point are heartily sick of each other. My last boyfriend has turned into a full-blown raging alcoholic. He was on meds when I was with him which was hard enough, but when we hung out with friends over the summer, he insisted on stopping to buy a bottle of Vodka. At two in the afternoon. He's befriended all of my friends and now spends his nights hanging out with them, vodka in hand. He's also convinced that I'm trying my hardest to get with him again and has been telling everyone that. I escorted a friend home tonight. She's apparently suffered several full-blown panic attacks in the past week. They may, in part, be triggered by hanging out with my ex (the guy above). She tried to set his beard on fire, and also slept with him sometime in the past week. I did my best to put her to bed (at five A.M.) but for all I know she's currently drinking her way through the sizable bar she has in her fridge. She's encouraged in her self-destructive habits by my ex, and a third friend who are both clinically depressed. One of my best friends apparently has a violent and/or abusive streak. I excused it the first time I heard something but now I know that at some point soon I'm going to have to sit down and talk to him about the way he treats women. Currently an acquaintance (and friend of several people I'm living with) is afraid to be on campus if she knows he's around. Two of my other best friends are barely speaking to each other and aren't likely to ever again. The first has had a crush and dated (off and on) a girl for the past three years. At the end of last year, during an off period in their relationship the other friend slept with the first friend's then ex, but now current girlfriend. This happened after housing draw. We're all living in the same suite. Another good friend (possibly my best here at college) has decided that the only way she can make it through life is to literally work herself to death. She works the maximum number of hours on an on-campus job, takes a course load most would consider insane, runs one of the most time-intensive extracurriculars, is in the orchestra, and religiously watches several television series. She sleeps, at best, three hours a night. Oh. Never told the guy in the below blog post. He's still a good friend and while I think he might finally have caught on, I'm still not sure. I actually bought him a gift certificate for his birthday back in March for a cafe in downtown Philly and told him he should find a girl or a friend to go with. I figured he'd take his family since he never leaves the college unless he's with them. I thought he'd used it at some point over the summer but it turns out he's staying over Fall Break and wants me to go with him. Which is really nice, but uh
  2. I find it slightly amusing that I'm writing this to one person at the same time I'm rejecting another (wildly incompatible personalities) genuine offer from a bi guy which is the first serious proposal I've had in over a year... Life is amusingly cruel. Hey [name], I'm writing this e-mail while sightly tipsy and against the angels of my better judgement, but I made a promise to myself awhile back to be honest, and I feel I haven't been keeping it. As you may have noticed (and thirdhand rumor states your friends definitely have) I've been hitting on you. It was due to a combination of stress from last semester making me let my guard down, good things I'd heard about you from others, and rumor about your sexualitythat turned into misplaced hope, but I definitely stepped over the line and I'm sorry for that. Talking to you tonight made me realize that I really was pushing myself too far. Sure, it may not count if you're drunk (as you said), but during most of my contact with you I've been sober and I don't think that's reason enough to excuse myself anyway. So, while I initially approached you with the best of intensions, for some time now they've no longer been guiding my interactions with you. You're smart, and I hope you've realized this to some degree, but if you haven't, now you know. I leave it in your hands whether or not you want to interact at all past this. I'd still like to be friends with you- you seem like a genuinely nice person, but I'll understand completely (and hold you entirely blameless) if you think it's better that we curtail whatever limited interaction we've already had. If you're still interested in hanging out as friends, or whatever, I have copies of Kill Bill & 300 sitting on my hard drive. Even if you're entirely weirded out by this e-mail, I still think you should see Kill Bill, it's a f**king awesome movie. Yours, shadows I haven't sent this e-mail and I'm not sure that I should. We'll see what thoughts the 'morrow brings.
  3. Likes thre new picture up :)

  4. It was somewhere between San Jose and Salinas that I came to the conclusion that only one of us was going to make it home that night. Richard and I had spent the past five days together on a roadtrip to San Francisco. We had decided to embark on the trip in order to spend some time together as friends, relax from our jobs and, most importantly, go see The Faint an Indie rock band that we both loved. Somehow the Indie Rock/Punk songs of the The Faint had already faded from Richard's mind; they had been replaced with an altogether more sinister melody: "I kissed a girl and I liked it The taste of her cherry chap stick I kissed a girl just to try it I hope my boyfriend don't mind it" I had not reached my conclusion lightly. Leaving Richard in Buellton would engender its fair share of problems. One, it was his car. Two, I don't have my license. Third, I didn't want to have to explain to his ex-Drill Seargent father exactly what I had done with his son. But by that point, I didn't really care. If I had to hear just one more mention of "her cherry chap stick" I was willing to damn the consequences for the sake of my sanity. We'd headed up Sunday night to Davis where a mutual friend had an apartment. Richard was driving one-handed as earlier that day he'd managed to dislocate his shoulder for the first time in nearly two years. We arrived somewhere around six in the morning, after having endured a two hour long traffic jam at 1:30 AM. Our pink headed friend greeted us at the door where we collapsed in conveniently located hammocks. By the time we woke up again to the presence of six other people in the three person apartment it was well past 10 AM and our friend's hair had turned into an almost natural shade of brown. We managed to kill time until the concert by napping at strategic intervals. The concert was awesome. Well, mostly awesome. Five of us made it to the concert at the Fillmore West in San Francisco, an hour's drive from Davis. There was Richard, my one-armed, perpetually energetic co-traveler along with our mutual friend, and her two friends who both went to UC Davis and were dating. Behind our merry crew were two people who were almost certainly tripping on Ecstasy. To the front were a group of guys enthusiastically lighting up a bong. And to the right... to the right were the serial gropers. Their drug of choice was alcohol (I discoverd it when the female half of the couple, in an effort to get to know me better, spilled half of her cup all over my sneakers). The girl just wanted to hold my hand. And arm. And waist. And that's when I politely disengaged myself. She followed, but I managed to be slippery enough that she gave up. The guy however was busy with the friend of our friend. The male groper was going for the (rather hot) guy who quickly pushed Richard into his place. Richard took it for a little while before he too gave up. I gallantly stepped up in order to protect the remaining female members and felt the hand move rather quickly downard. I moved rather hurriedly to the left and he followed once again going for my hand before movinig on. We kept this up until the concert started at which point he was rather easily pushed away by the soon to be surging crowed. Somehow I ended up moshing. I'm not entirely sure how it happened but I think it may have happened when I received an elbow to the stomach courtesy of the hot friend of a friend. I responded in kind and then I spent the next hour trying my hardest not to end up horizontal on the alcohol slicked floor. It was surprisingly fun. I would however, like to take this time to apologize to anyone I may have injured in my frenetic attempts to "dance." I don't think anyone ended up too badly hurt, my swing elbows kept people at a reasonable, if not safe distance. Richard, sling and all had apparently moshed to the delight and respect of his neighbors and the future horror of his doctor. After the concert people came up and expressed their admiration for his insanity. I'm still not sure what he was thinking even attempting to dance- the last time he'd dislocated his shoulder he'd done it attempting to make the "M" in YMCA. Richard and I ended up at my Aunt & Uncle's house near San Francisco in order to do some sightseeing. I'll spare you the majority of our sightseeing adventures. Coit tower, Fisherman's Wharf, Chinatown, Lombard Street, the entire frickin city by foot but I will mention what we did on our last day. Richard had mentioned a street full of Graffiti. After asking around the Mission District we found it-Clarion Alley. It is amazing. If you ever get a chance, go see it. Though it may smell of piss, and though there may be a homeless man sleeping at one end, the artwork is fantastic and well worth the trip. After taking a ton of pictures I wanted to check out the thrift shop next door. I had no idea what I was getting into. Richard decided that he wanted new clothes. That thrift shop didn't satisfy him though. Nor did the next two hipster thrift shops satisfy him. Approximately an hour and a half later I found myself walking through The Castro with a determined Richard at my side, intent on going to a nearby Thrift Store. It was amusing, he, the straight one, had dragged me, the gay one, into the Castro. Go figure. Two hours later as he was still trying on clothes and I was trying to figure out exactly which one of us was supposed be gay. As I patiently waited, trawling through the jean racks to kill time, he was in the fitting room trying on yet another set of clothes. It was the orange and purple jeans that sealed it though. Though they fit well, the fact that they alternated between orange, purple, and blue depending on the light was really, ridiculously, flamboyant. Armed with our purchases, and a newly sympathetic perspective for a friend (see previous entry) I'd dragged into Uniqlo in New York we headed home. I ended up not leaving Richard by the sound of the road, instead choosing to blast The Kinks "Lola" out of his speakers. If it's going to be a gay song, it may as well be a good one, right?
  5. Whoops. Haha. This is why I should proofread. I know girls check out guys. I've had enough of them ask me what I thought of some random guy... I meant more what NaperVic is saying. You see fewer girls with swivel necks
  6. Several weeks ago I had a friend come to visit me in Philadelphia. We knew each other in high school and since we both came to the East Coast for college we've stayed pretty close. Since she lives in New York and attends a fairly well-known school there she tends to dress well. Much better than I do (my usual attire consisting of sneakers, a T-shirt, and shorts), but also better than the majority of students at my college. So, when I saw that she'd put on a dress to go out I decided that I would try and at least match her and put on a button down and pants. We headed out into Philadelphia and when we started walking around I noticed something interesting. People were looking at us. Or, more specifically, they were looking at her. It was something that had never occurred to me before, but attractive girls get looked at a lot. While nobody blatantly stared there were quite a few guys looking at her. Walking together I'm sure that most people assumed that we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Me in my aviators, she in her sundress. It is, I think, something of a power trip for a guy to be seen with an attractive girl. While I don't think it was something that she noticed, I think that for a straight guy the constant glances would be a continual ego booster. Also, while I could be wrong, I'm pretty sure that guys never undergo something similar. I'm fairly certain that women don't check out guys and gay guys are too small a population to present a constant gaze of approbation. I'm not going to lie, it was an ego boost for me as well, despite the fact that I was not, in any way, dating her. It was also, nice, for awhile to "pass." With a woman by your side people assume that you're straight. It was weird, not having to wonder if people were trying to guess my sexuality, and to tell the truth I actually enjoyed it. I never realized how stressed I can be in public wondering whether or not people are judging me based upon my sexuality. For someone who's made it his policy to always be completely open about his sexuality, I have to say the day out in Philadelphia has made seriously reconsider when and how much information I share with people. I really do think people view you differently when they know. If this entry is getting you down (I hope not) rest assured I'll be posting another one about my experiences in San Francisco with a straight friend which comes to pretty much the opposite conclusion. Also, sorry for not proof-readingt his. It's 4/7 AM.
  7. Haha. I'm not so sure that California doesn't win. I don't have air conditioning on the East Coast and the West Coast never has lightning storms. On the other hand, the East coast doesn't have snakes or wildfires. I'll be back in August anyway so it's really a moot point. I get the worst of both. Hurrah. I really should have known not to work for her as soon as she started reminding me of my 11th grade English teacher. Smart, interesting, knew her stuff, and occasionally a really excellent teacher when she wasn't going bipolar on who she was going to like/hate. I like your sixth sense. Mine has to do with computers, I'd love to have a decent gaydar or needlessly tempermental person spotter. Sadly, I just have the ability to tell over the phone exactly when some poor, befuddled Professor is trying to right click instead of left. There's going to be all you can eat ice cream for five bucks at some point this week. I'm looking forward to that
  8. First off: Thanks everyone. It was nice reading your comments and advice. They are much appreciated. In regards to "the guy" I took the easiest route and did nothing. I have no hopes that it will turn into a nifty-esque fairy tale ending. I was just kind of curious to see how it would turn out. After careful consideration, I realized that the silent crush is probably something I should just learn to live with and hopefully it will pass. I was going to make this post about the awesome time I had in New York City/the Gay Pride Parade (and a critique of it) and the fact that I got to scream "congratulations" to George Takei. But I'd rather post about something else that's been bothering me deeply instead. This is super long, and I wrote this almost entirely for myself so I won't be hurt if you skip this one Over the summer I've been working two different jobs. One is merely a continuation of the work I do during the schoolyear for an office on campus. The other job was one just for the summer. The summer job is for a Professor. I was offered the job pretty much out of the blue. I needed official permission from my department to take a couple of my classes off-campus. I'd never talked to her before but we ended up talking for forty-five minutes during which she mentioned she needed a student worker for the summer and offered me a job doing research/helping with her book/doing some basic office work. My previous plans had just fallen through and at the point I had no desire to go home so I told her I'd need time to think about it but I'd probably say yes. The job looked great, I'd get a chance to do some research relevant to my general interests, I'd be working with a senior member of the department and I'd be making a decent amount of money. I decided to accept. She was delighted-It was fairly late in the year for her to be hiring anyone- so I figured I'd been her last resort. I wasn't particularly hurt by that, we were hopefully both using each other to mutually beneficial ends. Symbiosis if you will. The first week was hardly fascinating. It was the Professor making the occasional hour long phone call, and me sitting on the floor (there was no room for me to work anywhere else) going through her several thousand folders trying to take the often incomplete notes and documents and organize them into some kind of order. I occasionally went to the library to pick up a book or photocopy something for her, I'd often have to charm/persuade the librarians into acceding to the Professor's demands; what she wanted was not often what the library was willing to offer. Whenever I'd tell a member of the faculty/staff I was working for her, they'd sort of look at me sympathetically and say that it must be hard organizing her as she's rather... messy. I did my best to defend her, but it was a fairly pointless endeavor. Week 2 was more of the same. Except this time I got to walk her beloved dog who, when he wasn't knocking over my neat piles of papers, was either destroying the pens I was using, bouncing off the walls or ocassionally, blessedly, sleeping. I got to listen to the Professor talk about what an intelligent animal he was but I kind of tuned it out. I'm sure he's smart for a dog, but he is, after all, a dog. I figured that it was just good training for when I'd be a grad student and regularly have to put up with this sort of nonsense. Between Week 2 and Week 3 I got to hear some of the Professor's life history, some family secrets, and other information I would preferred not to have known like her opinions on the rest of the department. She also tried to cajole me into taking classes with new professors despite the fact that the very reason I'd come to see her in late Spring had been to register for classes I really wanted to take. She'd also said she liked the fact I was willing to step outside the boundaries of my small college but here she was trying to persuade me to take classes with Professor she liked. It was a very uncomfortable position to be in. I also found out that of her previous summer research students the other two that she'd mentioned were both queer. I wondered if that was why she'd hired me, but then I reminded myself that she'd really had no other choice. One day during the start of Week 3 both the Professor and her dog went to a conference I set out to clean up her office. I spent most of the day engaging in some serious organization and when the Professor returned the next day she was quite pleased. I gave her some recommendations for how to maintain the state and perhaps even go further (I hoped to perhaps, one day, use part of the desk during the continued folder organization process). In two days between the Professor's lack of organization habits and the dog's ability to wreak havoc the office was back to its usual state. Week 4 was soul-crushing. I spent the entire week sorting her folders. Only she really knew the organizational system. She had given the syllabi to me in electronic form (at my request) during the first week. So while I'd never taken any of her classes I could find papers whose authors or titles were listed in any one of the six classes she had listed. Her syllabi occasionally had different titles for the papers she was using, and she'd also not list the authors but she was usually helpful in telling me where things went. The problem was that there was an ever-expanding pile of categories including what seemed to be an ever-increasing amount that went under the entirely unhelpful cateogry of "research." When I left on Wednesday I asked her to go over the piles and give me some indication of how she wanted them sorted. She did it through sticky notes, the system I'd been using. I sorted them, watched the dog knock over yet another pile, rebuilt it and filed them all away. I had to balance the folders on my knee as I wrote the headers (there was still no flat surface other than her desk on which to write). I was tired, I still had hundreds if not thousands more folders to go through and none of the promised ability to do research had materialized. The dog was bouncing around again so the Professor asked me to take him out for a walk. I did and we came back where I asked for the Professor's help in sorting a document which had earlier been knocked out of the pile. When she told me what class it belonged to I did a quick ctrl + f through the syllabus to make sure that either the title or author were there. Neither showed up and I told her as much. She asked me to look again, and she was right. It had been listed under the subheading at the end of the syllabus. I apologized and continued sorting. At 4:30 she said I looked tired and offered me the ability to go home early which I took eagerly. It meant not getting the last half hour's worth of pay but it was well worth it to get out of the office. I sent her a quick e-mail thanking her for the ability to go home early and went to bed soon after. I work my other job on Friday so I didn't see her until this past Monday after I got back from New York. I showed up at my usual time. As usual there was nothing to do (she usually assigned me tasks when she came in, in spite of my not infrequent requests for assignments I could work on when she wasn't in). When she arrived she was quite angry with me. In my tired state I had apparently mislabeled her research. While I'm quite sure that I had, in fact labeled things per her sticky notes I apologized anyway as protesting wasn't going to do me much good. She lectured me about how important her research was to her, and then told me that she was tired of my attitude and how I never would have treated her that way if she had been tall and balding. I interrupted her at this point because I wanted to make sure I understood exactly what she was saying. I asked if she was stating that I was being sexist in my attitude towards her. Her response: yes. She went on to say that four other students had been trying to get the same position I now had which was a total shock. Why had she hired me? I had taken only one other class with a Professor she knew, a class during which I'd been decidedly average. I now can't shake the sneaking suspicion that she hired me because neither of us is straight. At that point I shut up. I can not prove that I am not sexist, but I believe that I never treated her any differently because she is a woman. I did my best to work in an environment that was not what had been promised and I was being accused of being a careless, heartless, sexist student. If I could have quit then I really think I would have. Unfortunately I need the money and she, unfortunately, has far too much influence over the rest of my time at college. She's given me work which I can do elsewhere on campus (at last, thank god, research) and ever since Monday has acted as though she never said anything. I was deeply insulted by her comments and though she may feel that since she has forgiven me for my transgressions everything should be alright, I cannot get past what she said. There's nothing for me to do, I can't risk angering her further by talking to anyone about it, and I can't quit. I can only hope that she doesn't badmouth me to the rest of the Professor's on staff. Or, if she does, that I've already made a good enough impression for them to question her judgement to some degree. Fat chance of that though. //shadows I can't believe I'm saying this but I really wish I was back in California right now.
  9. What, it's only been like a year and two days? I've kind of disappeared because I decided it might be fun to focus on friends and schoolwork. While successful I can't say I haven't missed this place. It wandered across my mind more than once. Especially at three A.M. as my mind drifted from the Japanese Kanji I was supposed to be studying. Funnily enough that seems to be happening once again. About midway through studying (didn't study Japanese hard enough ) I thought, to hell with it, why not write a blog entry? Suffice to say I'm waaaaay out of practice at writing anything other than a history research paper. My post came out about as interesting as one. Ah well. Hopefully I'll get another chance to update this poor neglected thing and hone my writing skills. For me, one of the hardest parts about being gay is when it comes to falling in love. Okay, so maybe love is too strong a word. Falling in "like" doesn't have quite the same ring to it though. The name really isn't that important. Think back to middle school (if you're still in middle-school maybe you shouldn't be reading this) where you'd see someone and you'd get really nervous and awkward... that. That feeling. That's what I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, falling in like for straight people is far from easy. But still, there are several available options. Assuming that the object of your affections is unattached then you can confess your feelings and face either brutal rejection or happy reciprocation. If the person is currently seeing someone than you can always hope they break up. If you're feeling really lucky you can try confessing anyway, but be prepared for a brutal smackdown. I have had the (mis)fortune of falling in like three times. The first two were in highschool. Each time I knew my choices. Each was straight and out myself over an impossibility contradicted the logical closet in which I'd entrapped myself. It was better to stay quiet and hope I'd get over each. As I have. Each person has changed into someone different in the two years since I graduated. The nights of quietly, angstily cursing the world for trapping me in a small town with exactly one other out gay person within twenty years of my age have passed. And with them comes my current situation. I now attend a small liberal arts college. Its identity is unimportant for this particular story. I'm out, have had two boyfriends neither of whom I fell in like with. Instead, I've fallen in like with someone else entirely. Yet another straight guy. I could bore you (and me) describing how wonderful, and nice he is but what's the point? It does neither you, nor me any good. Instead I'm faced with an interesting dilemma. We've become friends (if a bit awkward at times). I'm frustrated because he would make an excellent friend if I wasn't in like with him. I'd be surprised if he didn't at least suspect (he's smart). I'm just faced with the option of actually telling him. I hope the most I'd have to face with awkwardness. It's just interesting thinking that I have nothing to lose by telling this guy that I like him. Well, nothing other than some awkwardness and some interesting work interactions for the next two years... I can't think it's a good idea and I won't do it, but the thought is still tempting. The thought of being able to tell someone that I like them is incredibly liberating and yet incredibly scary at the same time. Oh well, he's a sweet guy and I don't want to put him in the situation of having to try to explain to me that he's not interested because, well, he's not into guys... //shadows
  10. Hey everyone! I don't post much anymore since college kind of consumed my life. And it's about to consume more of it. I am going to be co-president of my college's GSA (nobody else wanted the job) and part of my responsibilities involve taking care of the room that we meet in every week. Right now the room is rather blah. It has outdated/boring posters and I'd like it if it didn't look like a time capsule from the early 90's. Does anyone know of any good sites where I could buy posters, or other items to make the place nicer to be in? Price really isn't an issue (if only I could say that for everything...) so don't worry about that. Does anyone know where I could start looking or have any specific recommendations? Thanks so much! //shadows
  11. Everyone loves a parade, so last week I left the comfort of my apartment and went into Philadelphia to see my first gay pride parade. Technically speaking it wasn't really my first pride parade. When I was around five my parents took me on a trip to Washington D.C. I think we were walking somewhere and my mom turned to my dad and asked: "Why are there so many men wearing leather?" Sometimes my mom can miss the obvious... Anyway, so I went in to see the parade. We (the other future SAGA co-head and I) arrived about 20 minutes after the parade was supposed to begin. We got slightly lost on our way there and by the time we made it to the gayborhood there was nobody in sight. The streets were actually fairly deserted and the only sign that anything was going on was some trash in the street. We wandered around trying to see if we could find anyone and we heard some distant thumping off in the background. We headed towards the sound and came across an intersection. People were moving up the block, and in the middle of the intersection were the philadelphia flaggots who were dressed all in white and twirling their flags in unison. It was uh... quite the sight. We walked in the opposite direction of the parade and managed to stumble across an honest to god protester. It was actually fairly amusing. He ran out of stuff to say fairly quickly so he kept going on about perverting and raping children and how being gay was unnatural. Nobody seemed to want to walk near him for some reason. He wasn't very effective mostly because the float nearest him kept gunning their engine and drowning him out. Anyway, once we reached the end future co-head and I started walking towards the head of the parade. I kept an eye out for demographics (stuff like this interests me) and it was kind of interesting to see just how high a percentage of the crowd was composed of 30-40 year old men. There were very few people as young as I was and the females were also vastly outnumbered. There was one hot guy marching in the asiac (Aids Service in Asian Communities) float but by and large the events were tame (even the hot guy was wearing boxer briefs). I actually didn't need much in the way of eye bleach. I was pleasantly surprised; no old, fat guys in thongs! Anyway, the parade route terminated in a fenced off area with booths for various civic organizations and a concert going on inside. I paid a fee to get in and wandered around. I think I'm now on about 90 different e-mail lists. And I now have more condoms then I'm going to need for a loooong time. I now finally have some rainbow gear to wear. Pity it's stamped with the Bank of America logo. //shadows Question of the day: Compare these webpages. philadelphia.craigslist.com/m4m/ philadelphia.craigslist.com/m4w/ philadelphia.craigslist.com/w4m/ philadelphia.craigslist.com/w4w/ Why is the m4m so very very different? And do I have the right to be as sad as I am after looking at them?
  12. Okay, so the above was a lie. I use this blog only when I'm feeling mixed up after all. It's been awhile since I posted so I should probably give some context if you happened to have stumbled here for the first time. I'm a 19 year old gay male. I attend a small liberal arts college outside Philadelphia. I was born Jewish, turned atheist (then had my bar mitzvah... yeah), and attended Catholic High School. My life has been fairly interesting. Sometimes I think the number reason why I enjoy living so much is because I want to see how my life is going to end up. At least it's rarely boring... I recently ended what I'd consider my first real relationship. Two months with a fellow freshman. It was good, and I enjoyed it mostly. I think we both realized rather early on that it wasn't anything approaching love, more like we liked each other enough to date but not seriously. We broke it off because we realized it was just getting increasingly awkward and less enjoyable. Fair enough. I'm currently dealing with what I think is the usual post-relationship self-examination. I'll be over it soon enough, but there are/were parts of the relationship that bother me. So I mentioned I attend a small liberal arts college. We're small but not so small as to be immediately claustrophobic. Well, not at least claustrophobic for a freshman. My boyfriend and I composed the first homosexual relationship between two students on our campus in four years. It's not like our campus is homophobic. Pretty much the opposite. Pretty much the entire student body united in protest after it turned out one of the athletic coaches was using the word "fag" to describe people he thought weren't trying hard enough. Whenever I mentioned my boyfriend people generally didn't blink. My Japanese teacher thought I'd memorized the words "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" backwards but that was probably the most negative reaction I received. Despite the overwhelming atmosphere of acceptance here, for some reason people just don't end up in relationships. It's true for the heterosexuals as well though. My boyfriend and I were one of the few couples who were dating. Most people just hook-up or spend their entire college lives devoted to each other to the point where they move into the others dorm room. Next year I'm going to be co-head of our College's version of a GSA (Gay Straight Alliance, but if you're here you probably knew that...). The GSA is interestingly one of the most popular clubs on campus. most are lucky to get five people to regularly show up. The GSA regularly gets 20. I'm kind of at a loss as to what to do with my power/authority/ridiculously large budget. In a campus that is often overwhelmingly accepting (and complacent) what really is the point of our existence? We serve as a safe space for people to discuss whatever but there hasn't been a single closeted person to attend a meeting in the past few years (from what I've heard from other members). Often our meetings turned into "intellectual wankfests" where a few people would go off on academic tangents and the rest of us would be sitting in silence. Other times it just became a "share your story" meeting that left people wondering what exactly had been accomplished. The one time everyone was universally bored was when we discussed something like "gays in the military" where nobody had any personal experience, or even relation to someone who did, and it just came down to a bunch of people eventually agreeing. I really haven't a clue what to talk about. I know I can't keep everyone happy, but there's got to be a few things to keep the majority interested in returning. And I don't think bribing people with pizza is the way to go... The GSA also hosts a Cross-Dressing Dance which is essentially an excuse for people to get drunk and dress up in their friends clothing. I think it's cool that we host a dance and that it's so well attended but at the same time I wonder if it really serves any purpose. Cross dressing is more an object of humor than it is something to be taken seriously. I'd like to get people to think more seriously about it but I'm not sure how or even if that's really a good idea. I'd hate to be the killjoy for such a popular event. We also have a large budget for speakers and I really want to bring a gay alum who's Log Cabin Republic and worked in the justice department under President Bush in to speak. I'd also like to bring in a member of the Pink Pistols but I have a feeling Campus Security would have a fit. My college is a place that's accepting but part of that reason it's so accepting is because we're all so complacent. We're all content to live in our own little words and avoid being shaken up over anything. We live in a cocoon separated from the real world and this bubble creates a certain strain of thought which discourages disagreement not out of outright coercion but out of not caring. A Senior I knew said that people are so busy changing the world in highschool but by the time they come to our particular college they get burned out and are just done with it. I want to do a few things to make our club more interesting. We'll probably head into Philadelphia once a month to Woody's (a gay club), and if I'm lucky I can arrange a trip to the Village/Stonewall. I unfortunately know very little about Philadelphia and what about it would be interesting/worth spending money on for a club like ours. Finally, we have our own student space which hasn't been (re)decorated since around 2003 and a lot of the posters and whatnot look far far older. It needs redecorating badly and I'm not even sure where to begin. I'll probably post a topic in the general chat here for ideas, especially for posters. Back to me personally. I'm kind of at square one again. I'm not really sure if I want or should try for another relationship again for awhile. There's a certain disconnect between my actions, my words and my thoughts that makes it hard for people to get to know me. I tend to distance people rather easily and I've come to the rather sad realization that the chances for me to form a relationship or find someone with whom I can truly have a rapport with are fairly limited. Part of me is sad about this but it's better to face the reality that as someone who doesn't drink, doesn't do drugs, isn't that into clubbing, and is as quirky as a I am is much better at making friends than boyfriends. //shadows
  13. Reading that made me realize just how much I missed your work. It also made me realize it's 2:18 and I have an essay to write right now... I will not read the new chapters... I will not read the new chapters... I will not read the new chapters... //shadows
  14. THANKS everyone! Though... Is everyone on a (way) different timezone than me? It's been my b-day for all of six minutes now.
  15. Hey, we could've been twins!* Happy Birthday! *almost.
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