Fights and Fornication

No, I didn't fornicate...no masturbation or porn either, so don't worry.

I did, however, get into a fight...who with? The man responsible for my birth, of course...that sounds extremely standoffish of me, but I'm in a crappy mood right now, and it's MY blog, so I'll speak how I feel...I'm not referring to him as my father right at the moment...We got into a stupid fight about something stupid, of course. My mom had read a letter of mine that I had left out, and she had commented on it, and I told her that I didn't like her reading my mail (He wasn't there during dinner...merf...)...I hadn't even finished reading the letter in the first place, and me getting mail that actually matters is a rarity...so I was excited to finish it...but she read it...it could have been ANYTHING in that letter...could have been some plans to make a rendevouz with some male companion (if I ever had the balls/sex appeal enough to pull something like that off), or it could have been a letter from a friend across the country. This one happened to be from a friend who is serving his mission in Costa Rica, whom I had met at school.

>>Fast Forward>> After dinner, I was helping clean up, mom was at choir practice, and her worse half and I were in the kitchen, and we were cleaning stuff up, at mom's request...me cleaning the counters, he was washing dishes. As I collected the letter from the counter, I commented on my displeasure at her reading my mail...blunt, out there statement...not a question, not looking for much of a response...and my father, ever looking to have higher ground than me, decided to turn it into an argument...this, I didn't want...he kept on trying to turn it into such, until I decided to finally just cut it off. I left what I was doing, collected my shoes, and left. Thank goodness Will's house is always available as an escape. We did, generally, nothing, but nothing was something in this situation, as it gave me time to just get away from an unsavory situation.

I don't really get angry anymore...I used to be an extremely hot-tempered person...now I'm just intolerant. Instead of charging into a debate with my sleeves rolled up, I, instead, become a recondite recluse, and shy away from confrontation. I don't get angry, as much frustrated. Not so much hot-tempered as aloof. And that's the way I want it. I don't hurt anybody, and nobody can get to me. I'm able to receed into my bubble, which I used to stretch out of so often, and be safe. I used to be quite the opposite. I was always encouraged to 'get outside my comfort zone,' which I did with reckless abandon...and now, it's time for me to take some comfort, and stay well inside my comfort-territory.

Let's see...what's been good?

+I wore a white shirt and tie for 3rd time at church since I've been home from my mission...trying to be what I know I should be...striving to be a worthy priesthood holder.
+I worked 36 hours this last week...my heels are suffering and hurting because of it, but the money will be well worth it. Tomorrow I work from 9:30am till 8pm...goooosh...both jobs...mucho dinero.
+I'm downloading Lisa Loeb, and listening to Tracy Chapman...good, calming, lamentful music...soothing for my soul. Gosh, I sound like so the typical emo-child...somebody shoot me already.

I've been contemplating, on the skirts of my mind, the prospect of disappearing...yet again contemplating that temptuous sweet, shiny apple. I'd only tell one person where I was going, and what my new name would be. I'd get my birth certificate changed...my social security altered...the me that people know would cease to exist. And my alias would be an orphen...my children would never know my parents, if I have children (which I hope for), but they'd have my wife's parents for grandparents...my 'parents' would have abandonned me, and I would have grown up in Oregon...been emotionally abused, and finally abandonned those who had treated me so badly...not that the maternal figure in my upbringing would be the villan, but my paternal character would be he who carries a black mark on his name...and not only him, but more the emotional situation I was brought up in.

I don't know why I concoct fantasies like that...operating under a false guise...faking my death so as to escape. I wouldn't have the balls to pull it off, nor the means.

I have to be up early, so I'm going to surrender to sleep.

Frugality VS. Quality

Sorry, I can't give you attention. I know you're in pain, and I know you're trying to focus on other people. I know how helping other people can help give a sense of security and safety...stability, but you can't be stable without a foundation. And that foundation requires that you accept help that is available for your problems. Take anti-depressants, get institutionalized, whatever it takes to get you to stop carving your arms up. Whatever it takes to get you to stop fantasizing about poisoning yourself, or wishing you were in the middle of a plane crash.

We deal with our problems for a reason...many of us, myself included, are trying to figure out why...'why me?' I ask it everyday...but I'm trying hard to accept that God just knows better than we do...you don't deserve to die. You die when God says you can die. You're not trash, because God don't make no trash. I'm writing this for you as much as I am for me. Heaven knows that I'll need to look back on this journal entry, and remember how I'm feeling right now. So put away your plastic mask...acknowledge that you have problems, and let other people in to help you...don't push the 'adults' out of your life, because look at who YOU are...you're a big girl now...YOU are almost an adult.

I can't give you any more attention, because I need to work on fixing me, and I encourage you to do likewise. You know I hate your 3-letter name...because I know the lie that it is. Stop starving yourself in fasting for me, and stop spending every ounce of prayer in your frame on me. If I need your help, you know I'll ask for it...but it's like you're cramming help down my throat...not that it's not appreciated, but you can't force things on people.
(You know who you are, and you know how you need to take this message)
====================
That aside, I feel like disappearing, almost, again. I reflected on the fact that I've never let my fingerprints get taken...when I was a little kid...I always refused to get them taken...what if I ended up being a criminal? What if I were a spy? What if I ever needed the ability to just disappear later in life? These thought actually ran through my pre-pubescent mind...pretty wild.

I completely miss the security of my friends at Idaho. I know most of my guy friends will be gone, but right now I need Jared on my right, and Liz on my left...I compare being here at home to riding my bike on top of a brick wall, as opposed to (Idaho) being a monorail running on its track...secure, and smooth...set in place, not really being able to get astray in any way.

I'm not severely depressed right now, but I think I just need the sleep. I've been working like mad, and just got a paycheck today (it was much smaller than I expected...MUCH smaller). Next one had better be alot bigger, or I'm going to contemplate my future employment...maybe I'll just go straight for Rexburg. My heels hurt. I wish we had more chocolate in the house. The bath-tub is all clogged up...we need drain-o. We're also out of mayo. Mom needs to go grocery shopping, and I want wheat-thins.
It's gonna suck not having Mom to buy me groceries when I'm at school...but the independance will be SO worth it...to buy real butter, not margerine...to buy the best quality everything, and be a health nut, because I know that I deserve it...letting student loans and paychecks go towards quality and not frugality.


Alright, time to sleep.

But sin crept in

Well, last night, I thought I was doin' okay...I figured sleep would take me...but sin crept in instead...essentially an encounter with P & M...time to start over again...I am NOT going to beat myself up so bad over this one.

Okay, that's all. I have an appointment with a new shrink today...deals specifically with Same-sex attraction...this should help, I hope. Wish me luck, and hope he's covered by my insurance.

I Haven't Disappeared Yet....

So, I'm still here...still alive...still breathing...still undamaged (physically). Still chaste, still struggling, still going to church.

Direct after work today, Dad and I got into another 'conversation.' Earlier in the day, my mom had left a note on my bed, quoting a chapter in Alma...a calling to repentance, in essence. According to my father, he and my mother see me drifting further and further from the church...I'm not drifting from the church, I'm just trying to hang on...and them smothering me doesn't help. I, multiple times, tried to break off communication with him...tried to stop the conversation. "I don't want to get into this, because I don't want to end up bawling my eyes out, and if we continue, that's just what's going to happen." And what do you know? The issue continued to be dogged...I rushed from the house, sat in my car, and cried..."why me?"

Damnit, I'm sick of sounding like such a damnable crybaby...but there's nothing I can do other than ask "why?" I don't know how I'm supposed to cope with this issue...there aren't any church manuals, or books on recovering from homosexuality, from reversing 20 years of self-loathing because the teachings of men, mixed with those of God, teachings that having desires contrary to the Gospel plan. Those teachings have been driven into my brain, into my soul, so much that I can't recall any instances of feeling spiritually sound...I've always been not good enough for the touch of the spirit...and as such, I haven't received it.

I haven't found a night where I could sleep myself through till day...within the past month, I haven't gotten to bed any earlier than 1am...mostly due to my own poor scheduling choices, but also due to lack of want to sleep...when I DO sleep, it's riddled with nightmares, or uncomfort...waking me every hour or so. Going to sleep means waking up on another day...means realizing that I have to get up and fight again, when I'm stuck in a slow retreat, back facing a rocky, craggy cliff...and my allusions suck.

"You're a different person from when you left on your mission," Said my Father.
"Going through a quarter-life crisis will do that to you," I stammered, swallowing the knot in my throat.
"There's a painting, I don't know if you've seen it or not, but it's of a man in the woods...he's been through a crisis, and so he's down on his knees. And do you know who he's talking to on his knees? To God."
"...God doesn't talk to me anymore...He stopped listening," I said, eyes welling, as I grasped the doorknob, twisting it and pulling, my strength waning as the onset of salty tears made their way from deep within my being and out through my eyes.

I strode briskly out to my car, fingered the key from my pocket, and fumblingly, unlocked the door and slipped inside. Upon shutting the door, I couldn't hold the tears back any longer...my breathing became erratic, and I lost emotional control. The supreme release of so much emotional energy had been a hedonistic need pressing on me from the moment I awoke that morning. The day had started bad, and would soon be at an end, just as unsavory.
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I drove to a friend's house, we played computer games...good distractions...that's why I play when I can, I think...because I can escape my own problems for a short while. Same with work...I'm completely engrossed in whatever I'm doing at work...and working 60+ hours a week is going to continue to keep me occupied.

While with that same friend, he made the comment "dude, you need to just try to be happier...lighten up!" he said, as he tickled my ribs, robbing breath from my lungs, but bringing a laugh and smile to my lips.

When I'm here...home...I'm under the roof of my parents' shame. I'm choked here...physically as well as emotionally...I physically feel tightness in my throat. I write this not so that they'll release what hold they maintain, if any, but so they'll understand a bit more...even now, I contemplate and weigh the pro's and con's of printing off this entry and slipping it under their door...they don't know what's going on in my head...they haven't since I've come home...the only glimpse they've received is the sparse conversations I have with my mom, as I can't speak with my father without being brought to some catastrophic catharsis...and aforementioned conversations are usually when I'm in one of my pits...telling her to "make sure dad's guns are all locked up," or "I can't handle being a hypocrite." I feel bad that they have to have me as a son...they've had a hard enough of a lot with their other children, but they have me as an added burden...

What have I done to be such a burden? Did I perform some heinous misdeed in the live pre-now? Was I one who contemplated following Lucifer, but was persuaded not to do so by some yet unembodied friend? Was I particularly unimportant, left with the dregs of the barrel of emotional well-being when God planned for each of us our stations in this life? I commented to my father how I can't trust anyone...there are maybe 3 people who I can trust on this earth at the moment...Jared is one...Liz another, and the 3rd is the friend with which I've been spending most of my evenings, distracting myself. I don't trust my church leaders...they've been predatory, abrasive and overly curt in their dealings with me...I can't trust my parents; they're so ashamed, though they do their best to hide it...I can't deal with my father without being brought to tears, and my mother holds extraordinary expectations...the likes of which I've been able meet, if not exceed, in the past - but in my current state, fall short of them all. I can't trust my acquaintances...if they knew my deepests and darkests, they'd run and hide their heads in the sand at my approach...the common man fears what he does not know...and most Mormons fall under that category. Though the Gospel of Christ preaches understanding and caring, much of the church, in retrospect, professes the opposite...intolerance...bigotry. I can't trust my teacher; their opinions of me are too high...were I to confide, I'd shatter any preconceived notions about me they might hold under glass.

I'm without true friends, for the mostpart...those who I consider true friends are those I can trust...and right now, I can't trust barely anyone...when I do I get thrashed...I trusted God, and he let me have the weakness to come home from my mission...he wouldn't take this thorn from my side. I trusted friends, and they just said 'oh well, nothing I can do for you," when an ear to hear would have been enough.

How do you disappear completely?

I'm a hypocrite. Every morning when I get dressed, and put on garments....a hypocrite. When I take the sacrament every Sunday, a hypocrite. When I dress in white shirt and tie, because my Branch President 'dictated' it to me, I'm a hypocrite. Me carrying around a vial of oil on my keychain makes me a hypocrite. I sit there, Sundays, in meetings, clad in black shirt, lacking a tie, so as to dodge any priesthood responsibilities...my Stake President, sitting on his perch, staring through my soul, and knowing my problems...I can't confide in him anymore. Not now that he knows this deepest darkest of my secrets.

Last time I talked to him, and we had talked about my struggle with homosexuality, he made the comment: "if you ever end up getting married, and end up 'coming out' on your wife, I'll rip your arms and legs off, and beat you with them." Quoted, almost verbatum. I know he means well, and I know he's trying to do what he thinks is right, but his excessive bluntness and forwardness isn't helping in the least.

I 'came out' to a friend of mine who's at BYU today...she's supportive, as I expected (that's why I told her), but, yet again, as is always the case with those who don't struggle, not able to offer a hand of help.

I had my first night of work at my new job, where I'm a manager, last night. I found out my boss is an ex-mormon. Interesting. That explains his having been an Eagle Scout, and possible covers his hiring me. Then there's the 'gay factor.' Not that I'm saying that I think he's gay, but as with all attractive males, who aren't straightey mcstraightpants...I suspect 'maybe he could be gay?' As I'm sure I'll find out, he most likely ISN'T gay, and I'll be able to be free from that temptation for a while...in his direction, anyway.

That whole situation got me thinking...what if the church just ISN'T for me...? I mean, me 'not being involved in church' would be prime target for me to NOT hate myself...not having to live up to the people in the church's standards. I can imagine it right now, me moving off to Colorado, going to the Art Institute of Denver. I'd know maybe 2 people in state. I'm naturally very amicable, so I'd make friends fast...possibly transfer my job to over there...going to school would be good, because it keeps me busy, and doing art is my passion. Who knows? Maybe a few good parties, and a boyfriend (or even girlfriend) later, I find that I'm no longer depressed, no longer feeling like a hypocrite, and in a good, stable situation...cutting it on my own. I know plenty of people who've done it...I could pull it off, couldn't I?
Or maybe I'll take the Disney gig...go back to school long enough to audition, and just stay down in Orlando...and then after that's over do the school thing, but on the east coast instead. All that I know, is that right now I need out of the choke-hold of the church...because I'm blue in the face from lack of oxygen.



I hate having a brain that functions on its own....grrrruh....

How to Be Dead

Please don't go crazy, if I tell you the truth
No you don't know what happened
And you never will if
You don't listen to me while I talk to the wall
This blanket is freezing, it's been out in the hall
Where you've had me for hours
Till I'm sure what I want
But darling I want the same thing that I wanted before
So sweetheart tell me what's up I won't stop no way

Please keep your hands down
And stop raising your voice
It's hardly what I'd be doing if you gave me a choice
It's a simple suggestion can you give me sometime
So just say yes or no
Why can't you shoulder the blame
Coz both my shoulders are heavy
From the weight of us both
You're a big boy now so let's not talk about growth
You've not heard a single word I have said...
Oh, my God

Please take it easy it can't all be my fault
I haven't made half the mistakes
That you've listed so far
Oh baby let me explain something
It's all down to drugs
At least I remember taking the and not a lot else
It seems I've stepped over lines
You've drawn again and again
But if the ecstacy's in the wit is definitely out
Dr. Jekyll is wrestling Hyde for my pride
"How to Be Dead" - Snow Patrol
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I dont know how they've done it, but Snow Patrol has seemed to come up with the key track to the soundtrack to my life...

So I found out, tonight, that the 'boy' I'd been contemplating as a possible relationship is taken...he was 'involved' with somebody else, and then hopped to someone else...I kind of fell through the cracks as a possible relationship...which is most likely an extremely good thing for my current situation. I need to get back to school...I need to date girls...I need to not be fantasizing about boys. The thing that kind of jabs me in the side, was that when he had spilled the beans, I felt SO JEALOUS. Why? Because this was a bonified crush...that's what my problem is...gyah.

There are people starting to draw conclusions about me. People are guessing my "dirty little secret" left and right...and that makes me half-prone to just tell people. Other people come to conclusions where they dont know a THING, but compare my situation to willingly lying down on train tracks, with a speeding train approaching at full tilt...It'd be hard for me to explain without posting what they said specifically....aww, heck, why not...:

" 'Peculiar Mormon' needs to talk to me someday cause I still have his little Japan present. I wonder if he'll keep being crazy for the rest of his life, or if he'll decide to wake up one day."

and 'Peculiar Mormon' wrote this:

"I guess I'm truly crazy, aren't I?
Not everyone can live in the bubble of 'everything is peachy.' Some people have real-life problems, darling...I am one."

I suppose he means I live in a bubble of "everything is peachy". I wonder why he would assume that about someone. Funny enough, his life currently sucks because of his choices, so I guess he smashed his peach himself.

It's like, he decided to go lay down in front of a train and say. "You guys just don't understand what it's like to see the train coming." And we all go, "'Peculiar Mormon', you're being stupid, Buddy, there's a train coming." People like (FRIEND) grab his little hand and try to pull him up, but he just bats them away. He doesn't want help, and he makes snide comments when we say anything about it. "You guys are so mean for calling me stupid! I have a problem here!" People like (OTHER FRIEND) say, "'Peculiar Mormon'! Stop eating little pills and get off the frickin' railroad!" Then he looks at us, and he looks at the train, and he gives a pitiful little moan and lays his head back down. "It's such a big train. You guys wouldn't know. Look at you, you don't have a train headed toward you!"

Real life problems.
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Almost makes me want to take a 3 hour car ride, and commit fratricide.

Locks Too Small

Tonight, I am tempted
Tonight, Its hard to fight
Tonight, I find it harder
To do what might be right

There are landmines on my narrow path
I can't find my way home
Its blow or get blown up in this one
And I'm not sure what I can stand

Can I handle losing an arm?
When two is all I have
The arms that were meant for holding
But are chastened for reaching

I'm counting doubts on broken fingers
I'm losting grip with my hands
I've regained the will to live again
But how can this fight be right?

I'm using words discreet
So you just stay in the dark
I want sometimes to scream the words
But fear the insecurity

There are landmines on my narrow path
I can't find my way home
Its blow or get blown up in this one
And I'm not sure what I can stand

Its cling to that which I know
Or thow away a whole life
To begin again, anew
Fresh feet under my knees

But that means i have to sever
The feet I've already grown
The feet i've grown up in
Though my shoes have never quite fit

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How Ironic...on the eve of conference, I'm tempted to screw it up, once again. The part of me that is fighting my urges is fighting because I dont want to have to feel guilty tomorrow, sitting throught the sessions, and feeling more guilty than I already will, hearing the apostles and prophets of our day calling us to repentance...when it's the hardest thing for me to grab onto, and accept into my life. I hate that I'm never quite creative enough to put MY sons to music...my music-writing sucks major.

Today was rather busy, and during the stint of frenzied action, I was able to keep my mind off of myself rather well. I had an interview at a store that'd be WAY fun to work at, and that went rather well. After that, I went into work an hour early to cover the remainder of the shift of a friend, home for the weekend to hang out with family. Today, being only my 2nd day, was disgustingly busy. More busy than a 2nd day should be for anyone. I was running around, frantic, trying to figure out what to do with myself. That DID, however, keep me occupied for the whole 5 hours that I was there, leaving me absolutely no time to think and no time to read my book, or do any sketches in the sketchbook that I had brought with me to kill deadtime.

Me being busy is good, because I'm not thinking about how much I hate the way that I am. Granted, the medication that I'm on has been helping me focus on that less and less as well (upping the dose was definately a good thing, in my opinion). So now, it's 1am, and my eyelids are sagging, as much as I'd rather not sleep, and not have to wake up on another day...If I could be in one perpetual day and night, I'd be satisfied...and there I go, rambling. The night brings a release of responsibility...it's "me time," whereas the day, the time in which my body wants to sleep the most, is when I have responsibilities. I think I would be fine with not waking up...ever.

But that's not reallistic, and tomorrow is conference. Time for me to get my spiritual skull bashed in, and feel like I'm more of an ingrade than I already do. Noche.