JamesSavik

This one was begging for a caption.

I sometimes feel that way but remember that if I give up being an adult, i have to actually eat English Peas and Asparagus and nothing could be worth that.

Abusers isolate you from family and friends. Abusers abuse you and make you think it's your fault. Abusers cheat and then they are insanely jealous. All to often they don't even acknowledge your relationship. They will use you. Abusers use sex to reward and punish. The problem with abusive relationships is that they only get worse. Cops see this crap everyday and hate it. They get called out to the same house or apartment break up a fight where someone is obviously being abused and the victim keeps going back until they end up in the hospital or the morgue. You have to look out for crap like this. No one WANTS an abusive relationship but there are warning signs if you are honest enough to look out for them. You have the power to make it stop but you might not even realize it. All you have to do is WALK AWAY. It might be difficult. You might have to start over in a lot of ways. It's worth it. The longer you stay in an abusive relation, the more damage it will do to your self image and self confidence- exactly the things you will need to stand up for yourself.

To be continued...

Occasionally a story will come along that goes beyond just being good and becomes important. Dabegle's Everything's Jake is one of those stories. It rather graphically illustrates how gay teens and young adults can wake up and find themselves in abusive relationships. No one that I've ever met just decides one day hot damn, where can I find someone to abuse me every day? Abusive relationships happen to gay and straight young people every day and none of them are looking for it. There is an old story about how you boil a frog. If you put him in water, he'll stay in it. Then you turn the heat up and he won't jump out. That's how abusive relationships work. They are a seduction. Everything looks fine and then things take subtle turns. You start excusing things, making excuses and blaming yourself. Before long, you are living in hell and wondering what happened. Who is at risk? If you were abused as a child or teen, you are at higher risk for abusive relationships than anyone else. Certain personality characteristics put you at risk: insecurity, inferiority and immaturity all play a part. What is an abuser? Abusers are a sort of predator. They look for people that they can dominate and manipulate. They use all sorts of tools to do it: emotionally, sexually and even use physical force to control. They are often very macho and controlling. They typically have a hot temper and will be quick to slap, punch and use very rough sex to enforce compliance with his rule. Why do people stay? Sometimes the abuser will make his victim completely dependent on them for a place to live, job, transportation and food. The victim can become so controlled by fear, intimidation and/or their own basic insecurity that they will put up with damn near anything. How do you spot abusive behaviors? This is why this story is so instructive. Paul's behavior illustrates the controlling nature of abusers to a tee. Here are a few bright red flags to look out for. Your needs never come first. Any discussion is rebellion and quashed. They belittle you and make you feel incompetent.

That's over. The US military got rid of it in 2010.

sails the John C. Stennis! USS John C. Stennis (CVN 74) is a 102,000 ton NImitz class aircraft carrier home ported at Bremerton, WA and operating in the Pacific. She is currently working up and training for future deployments. This picture was taken Feb 3rd. Johnny Reb (her nickname) made an appearance in my novel In the Shadow of the Dragon.

That's cuter than a basket full of puppies! For comparison purposes, here is a basket full of puppies.

We Southerners have some unique expressions that you may hear about but not really understand. When you hear that someone is giving you the stink eye, first- it's not good. Second- it probably looks something like this:

In my experience with team sports, if you can play, they'll love you.

The Riddle of Me I’m not weak because I’m gentle, I’m in a tempest but I’m not tossed, I’m not quiet because I’m shy, I’m not a loser because I lost. Things aren’t what they seem with me, I just want to love and be free I am the enigma that you see Bound by chains you can not see Bearing scars that will not heal Wondering what it is I feel Wondering what it is that’s real I’m not lost because I wander, I’m not found because I’m home. I’m not sad because I frown, I’m not

A place for my poems.

I've got some new pals to work out with. When I first started seeing them around, a couple of them blushed so hard I thought they had hurt themselves. It's not that hard to figure out who is cool and who acts like a tool.

Dear super-bowl advertisers: It was very uncool to make me cry man tears during the super bowl! WTF were you thinking? OK- these were great commercials artistically but during the best super bowl in years? This isn't what manly men want to be doing during the super bowl! Thank goodness I wasn't the only one. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKUy-tfrIHY https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bd1qCi5nSKw "With Dad" by Nissan had everyone bawling. Just when we thought we were safe Nationwide gives us Zombie-kid. Come on advertisers, Really?

I don't display the stars & bars in its traditional form. Many people find it offensive and I just wouldn't go there. Nor would I take common cause with the yahoos that want it to be a symbol of oppression. I do think by adding the rainbow to that flag it would give enough of the old bigot crowd heart failure or strokes to make it.. satisfying.

I can't understand why people would be willing to look like a bum. The long, scraggly beard of the duck dynasty fook-tards doesn't make you look distinguished- just homeless. I guess it's good for getting people to hand you their spare change.

I know some of you are worried about me. I was too for a little while. My latest blog entry will explain a lot. Don't read it if you are squeamish. A Story Without Heroes

The fun part would be watching the rednecks see it, have strokes and keel over.

I don't know how to approach this topic. It's ugly so be warned that it's not going anywhere nice. If you're going to freak out, change to the Disney channel. Adult content. Violence. Very, very fucked up situations. No parent in their right mind would want you to know that this shit happens. ____________________________________________________________ I'm going to tell you a story about an 18 year old freshman. He was really excited to go to college. He was going where his dad went to school. He was relieved to get away from where he went to high school because he had been harassed and humiliated for years for being gay. It was a new start with new people. It was really good for him. He never asked to be the town fag. It would be nice to meet people that hadn't already made up their mind about him. He left it all behind: the drugs, the booze, the humiliation. He went to orientation and met a nice kid from Tupelo and they decided to room together. They were in different majors but they were a good match sharing the same weird hybrid geek/jock thing. They went back home, packed and came back to college to set up their dorm room. They met the guys on their floor. They made a lot of friends, they had fun, they threw the football around- all was going well. Classes started and our freshman applied himself. He was diligent about his studies. He did his homework. People noticed that he was smart. A group of pledges to one of the fraternities on campus asked him to join their study group. He didn't really know anything about fraternities but the kids were nice and sincere about doing well, so he joined them every Tuesday and Thursday night to study calculus and chemistry. All was going well until until October. The upper class men came through to harass their pledges. He wasn't one so he was immune but they talked to him, asked him where he was from and so on. He didn't know what he was setting himself up for. The pledges told him that the frat might ask him to pledge. He wasn't sure. He didn't like the way they treated their pledges and he wasn't all that excited about it. He saw someone that looked familiar to but he couldn't place him. There was a big football game that weekend. The team was playing one of its big rivals. The frat pledges invited him to the party. He asked if he could bring his room mate Howard and they said sure. When he got back to the dorm, Howard said he was going home that weekend so he was on his own for the weekend. That Saturday afternoon the football team got rolled by Southern Miss 42-14. The atmosphere wasn't especially festive but he was curious about the frat so he showed up about 8:00. He was wearing white tennis shorts and Maroon Izod shirt. He fit right in. There was booze and girls and he got the feeling that some of the guys were actually trying to get him hammered. Before everyone got falling down drunk the potential pledges were given a tour of the house. It was a beautiful colonial mansion on frat row with all the amenities. It was obvious to him that this was a playhouse for rich kids and he had very little in common with them. Their casual use of the words faggot and n****r made him wince. He was beginning to realize that these weren't very nice people. When the tour was over he was asked to go upstairs. One of the upperclassmen said that the chapter president wanted to thank him for helping their pledges with their classes. He followed his escort up to a room and went inside. The door closed behind him and he found myself face to face their five very large guys. Their ring leader was the big fat guy that looked familiar. The fat guy said remember me? He shook his head and said no- you look familiar but I can't place you. The leader said- I'm Josh Farmer. Brad's older brother. His stomach turned to ice. Brad Farmer had been a bully that he had fought three different times. He had won because Brad was a dumb ass who expected to beat up a weak fag but it hadn't worked out that way. He turned to rush for the door but strong hands grabbed him and turned him back to Josh. Josh said we don't take kindly to faggots sniffing around our pledges. I owe you for kicking my brothers ass three times and I owe you for the beatings my dad gave Brad for getting his ass kicked by a fag. It started suddenly. Fists were everywhere. He fought back. He elbowed the ass hats that thought they would hold him. He punched, he kicked but it was too much. Fighting back seemed to piss them off. Once he was down they kicked him. His eyes were shut, his nose bleeding, He knew it was bad because it didn't hurt yet. The goon squad left him alone with Josh. Josh stood over him and said you could never be one of us but you are going to be our bitch though. You'll show up to the frat every Wednesday to do laundry and clean up the house. He spit a glob of blood at his tormentor. He said that'll be the day. Josh said you've got a lot of spirit for a bitch. Guess I'll have to break you. Josh tied him up and then anally raped him. He woke up some time later still tied up. Josh was passed out drunk on his bed. It took him a while to get out of the bondage shit. The door was locked so he went out the window. It was in the wee hours of the morning and walking back to the dorms was a challenge. The campus cops confronted him and saw that he was badly beaten. The cop was a good guy. The cop asked if he needed to go to the ER but he declined. The cop drove him to the dorm and got him in without having to be interrogated for coming back after curfew. He got in his bed in his dorm room and passed out. Sunday morning he was awakened by Howard. Jesus Christ, what happened to you!? He couldn't say a word. A tear rolled down his cheek. He hurt so bad he didn't want to move. Howard begged him to go to the Emergency Room but he just shook his head. His emotions were everywhere. He was ashamed. He was angry. He was so humiliated. Men aren't supposed to be raped. He wanted to kill Josh Farmer very, very slowly. Worse still, he would have to see those frat people every day. All he could do is was lay there and cry. Poor Howard had no idea what to do. He got some wash clothes and cleaned up his friend as best he could without moving him around much. Monday morning wasn't much better. Howard helped him out of his clothes and said, Jesus dude, you're bleeding out of your ass! It was dried blood but the damage was done. Howard helped him down the hall and the other kids in the hall saw what a mess he was an were appalled. He got in the shower to wash the filth off but knew he would never really feel clean again. Howard insisted that he go to the student clinic that morning. He went and was confronted with a lot of questions he wouldn't- he couldn't answer. He didn't make it back to classes until Wednesday morning. The frat boys had the story out. The story was that he had come on to somebody at the frat and got his ass righteously beaten. He was done at that college. Howard moved out. Nobody talked to him. He was a pariah again. He finished the semester with a 3.0- good, not great. No one could understand why he didn't come back the next semester. His whole personality changed from a nice, confident kid to a scared, uncomfortable cynical bastard. He became paranoid. His friends at home knew something had gone badly wrong but they could never get him to talk about it. From then on he was drunk or stoned every day. He didn't want to remember his nightmare. He didn't want to think about the friends that he had loved that turned their back on him when he needed them the most. He didn't want to remember what it felt like to be one of the guys because it hurt too much. He pushed his friends away. He got worse and worse. He was angry and hurt all the time and he didn't know what to do about it. Drugs and alcohol were his escape. He put it all in a tiny little box in the back of his mind and willed himself to forget it. ____________________________________________________________________ Thirty-five years later He was reading a story where some macho asshole was telling some kid that he was going to make him his bitch. It set him off in a rage. He fumed, he raged, he remembered. It was me. It is how I got lost. A lot of stuff makes sense now that I could never understand. I'm glad that I didn't remember it sooner. It would have broken me. It still shocks me. I was in a prison of shame that was as strong as any steel. I'm different today. I have the tools and the support that I need to recover and I will. It will take some time. It will take some work but I will. I've come too far to quit now.

I don't know what it's about. I don't really follow trends. Long, ratty beards aren't for me. With my Southern accent, I don't need something that makes me look like a hillbilly.

Answer: When it has been made fabulous! I'm tired of seeing this misunderstood symbol of the spirit of the south being used as a symbol of racism and bigotry. That's NOT what it was ever about. The confederate flag was about making a stand for what you believe in. It's real meaning is courage. It is a legacy that should make us proud, not cringe in disgrace. I like it better this way. It's closer to the original intent because, to be gay in the south takes belief and courage. Take it back. It's our legacy. It belongs to us.

I'm there.

I'm not ready to talk about this too much. I have talked to my sponsor and I've already made an appointment to see someone about this. There was a scene in a story that for lack of a better description LOOKED really, REALLY wrong. The first thing that came out was absolute fury. I was mad as hell and I didn't know why. Then it clicked. The shock of it opened up a repressed memory. The second part hit me like lightening bolt- I remembered what happened like high definition video. I puked. Then I started shaking and crying and then I was in the shower. Full on anxiety attack. Rage. It really messed me up. I know that I can be pretty crazy. At least I'm honest enough to admit it. Discovering something like this is a terrifying experience. When the brain buries something this deep for so long and then let's it out in living color, you have to pay attention to it. I've always felt like I missed something. I believe this is it. Who says reading can't be therapeutic.

I've seen different captions for that: It's not how it looks. and How can it be wrong when it feels so right.

If I do say so, James is one of the coolest characters I've met lately.