RESPONSE FROM LAST POSTING.........

This is the last time I explain myself in my postings. I am so TIRED of everyone assuming that I am pointing fingers, busting someones chops or just being mean..........

THIS BLOG IS MY POINT OF VIEW.

MY FEELINGS AT THE TIME.

MY THOUGHTS ON MY LIFE........NOTHING ELSE.

Again, if it offends you, I'm sorry for that. I will not apologize for my feelings or my desire to put them into words.

This is my choice to do it.

It is my "cheap" therapy.

It is your choice to read it.

I will not be forwarding my postings any longer. You know where they are. You can read if you want. I will not "force" anyone to be a part of my life.

peace.

EYES WIDE OPEN..............

Anther posting about me?

Go figure.

It is my fucking blog.

I am trying not take things so personally when things are randomly said in jest. It is very hard. My life has been discussed, dissected, and reworked by everyone in my circle and outside my circle. Newcomers to my life. Old friends judging, yet again, my choices.

I know the comment that was made was in jest. Fine.

Another laugh at my expense. My calling in life.

NO pity here, just reality.

After the comment I went to a gathering of lesbians and gay men. I knew approximately 4 people upon arrival, and upon leaving I had met and connected with everyone.

Selfish? Perhaps.
Needy? Very.
Will it change? Never.

Upon leaving this gathering, it was to the usual watering hole. Boring. Excitement gone. Life drained.

I cannot and will not begin to understand how the life can so quickly be sucked from my soul. It was as if something from point B to point C drained me.

Age? Perhaps.
Boredom? Very.
Will it change? Never.

I am struggling, yet again, with the changes in my life. Constantly changing. Always exciting.

I spoke with a close friend of mine on Friday and many questions were barraged at my mind. I know it was meant well. I know it was from the pain of missing me.

Guess what? I am missing myself.

Stupid? Perhaps.
Upsetting? Very.
Is it going to continue? Never.

I am going to, yet again, restart the process of reclaiming my personality, my soul, and my light.

I will not apologize for being who I am.
I will not discuss it again.
I will not allow ANYONE to mock or make fun of progress.

Stay tuned IF IT IS NOT TOO BORING OR MUNDANE FOR YOU..........As the start of the blog says, if you don't want to read it, go somewhere else.

peace, love and bacon grease.

BAD DAY.................

It is one of those days. Walls closing in. People getting under my skin.

Uncertainty in the air. Change occurring again.

When does it all end? Never, I know.

Roll with the punches.................

Prison thoughts........part three.

Today's thoughts are those of the "re-entry" process.

Talk about a fucked up system.

The cards are stacked against a prisoner upon the start of the release process. I don't know if this "confusion" is nationwide but the process in Missouri is a joke.

Upon your arrival to your "home" prison you are given a date to go in front of the parole board. This date can be changed at a moments notice. It can be taken away for various reasons. It can be held over your head by both inmates and case workers behind the wall.

Your parole date is set in stone. The parole board, usually made up of three delegates from all over the state of Missouri, literally hold your future and life in their hands. These delegates review your file, speak with your family members, your victim's and their families, previous employers, and your criminal record. You have no say in what is being said about you. Your only hope is that you have been a productive member of society prior to incarceration OR you are screwed. Thus, the picture at the right!

Prior to actually going in front of the parole board you meet with a case worker who reviews your case. This case worker, depending on their mood, sets the tone for your parole hearing. If your case worker thinks you have made a bad impression-you are screwed. If your case worker thinks you are a trouble maker-you are screwed. If the case worker likes you-i.e.--MY SITUATION, THANK GOD!--they will go above and beyond to get you out of prison. I spoke with my case worker both on the record and off the record. She told me that she knows, after many years of doing the job, who will return and who will succeed. I have to agree with her on this aspect but what about those men and women who just can't present themselves with the correct attitude and demeanor? What about the men, no boys, who work their ass off in prison to better themselves with what is available and then slapped in the face and told to try harder? Talk about a reason to give up!

I was, and was told this numerous times by guards, case workers, the parole board, my parole officer, administrators, and other prisoners, an "exception" to all the rules. BULLSHIT.

I am appalled at the situation between "prison" and the "free world". The concept of re-entry into society is just that......WORDS.

The most basic stipulation for getting out of prison is that of when your date arrives-you go.

Prior to my release back into society. I began to question the guards, my parole representative, case workers, and other prisoners about programs and aid upon release. You would have thought I had asked if Godzilla was actually a living creature! I was literally told by the administration, guards, case workers and my parole representative that my parole officer on the outside would take care of all of that. HA! After speaking with my fellow prisoners, I discovered the actual truth.

NO one cares.

NO one wants to get involved.

Only those that want to succeed and stay out of prison find the resources to carry on. I investigated, via the prison library, the resources available to me upon my release. I would ask my case worker and parole representative about certain programs and they had never heard of them. I questioned why? I was told to mind my own business and under no certain terms was told not to make a stink. My question again--WHY?

Missouri prison's system is based upon the all mighty dollar. The more inmates. The more moolah Matt Blunt and his cronies can disperse across the state. The best story I heard in prison was the quote by George Bush about Missouri wanting more money to build prisons. His response, "put razor wire around the entire state"! It is a crazy concept, but not far from the truth.

The prison system in Missouri is that of a revolving door. The entire time I was at Moberly Correctional Center I witnessed, at least, 10 inmates released and then returned within 60 days. Very discouraging for myself and my fellow inmates. I spoke to a few of them and were told of "why" they returned. No way to work, no place to live, no one to care--prison is just easier and more convenient for a majority of the men locked away. You teach a dog a trick, he won't forget it!

You don't pass go, they give you-literally-$5.00 to get where you are going, and a set of clothes from the goodwill from 1965. I have two friends who can attest the truth to every word of this statement. It is both humiliating and degrading. I, personally, worked my ass off in prison to earn my $76.00. I saved, scrimped and needed this money upon release. Upon my release from prison, I was handed a manila envelope with a five dollar bill and a receipt for "charges" I had to pay the state to get out.

On my ride back to St. Louis from Moberly, I spent the drive--not enjoying my freedom--but worried sick about minute things such as food, shelter, and actually living. There are no classes in prison to tell you of the overwhelming sense of sensory explosion. There are no classes to help you adapt to the smells of everyday life. There are no classes or sessions to help you face the ones you left behind. There is not even a hint of "good luck". Upon your release, you again are reinforced with the truth that you are a prisoner and are in the odds of returning. Not succeeding, but returning.

Upon arrival to St. Louis I went to my parole officer and presented her with a list of questions. I was told, straight faced, that all my questions and concerns should have been handled while I was still in prison.

WHAT THE FUCK?

I didn't question the response. I knew it was going to be that way. Parole is concerned with two things. No drugs and getting a job. Everything else is of no concern. There are WAY to many people in this dysfunctional world of "ex-cons" for them to concentrate on one person. I grabbed my ball and ran the best I could.

The truth of this little tale is that, again, life is what you make of it. Institutions are governed, no micro-managed, to the point of "who cares"? Clock in, clock out.

I was and am one of the lucky ones. I returned to society with the aid of friends, (NO FAMILY-whole different blog) St. Vincent's DePaul, and a strong faith in my not returning to prison.

It was and still is extremely difficult.

I am going to drink my cup of "Shut the Fuck up", rich with a shot of creamer.

Happy days and peace to you all.

Prison thoughts...........part two.

Today's post is going to be about one of the physical "dark" experiences I encountered in prison. My last post made it sound as if there were no problems with my incarceration. It seemed as if I was trivializing the impact it had on my life. This experience and situation is just one of many lessons and degrees of pain I felt.

It is very hard to even talk about it, let alone, put it, as they say "pen to paper". I was specifically asked about this "situation" this weekend. It opened up wounds I thought that were healed. It caused me to evaluate my own good fortune. It caused me to be even more thankful, if that is possible, to have the life I have now.

Forgive my bluntness.

Forgive my anger.

Forgive my frustration.

Forgive the man who did this to me.....................................................................................

It was November 22, 2007. The day after Thanksgiving.

An emotional time in prison. Arguments over phones. Tempers short wired because of the holiday. Everyone's guard up. Everyone's cell their solitude. There was not much "socializing" because of the holiday. Everyone in their "manbox". Everyone in their own cell.

My own cell was especially busy. I was a tutor at the school. I am and was very proud of the boys and men I helped accomplish their goal of getting their GED. (Another posting) My cellie and I got along great. He was very supportive of my goals in assisting with the education of these fellow convicts. He was a great listener. He was very reassurring with my doubts upon release. A great source of strength. A sense of stability in a storm of prison. He was what we called an "old-head". He had been in prison for 16 years. He had seen it all. He had my back. We understood each others moods. We knew when to talk to each other. When to avoid each other. We fell into a routine of life. Monday, laundry day. Tuesday, cleaning day, etc. Everything in prison is a routine. From the cell checks every 2 hours to the mandatory standing count at 6:00 am. This man taught me how to "jail". We became close as friends. Spent at least 12 hours a day locked down together in this cell, and respected each others boundaries.

I met this man when I was traveling through the system of prisons to get to my final "home" at Moberly. I will not lie. He was an intelligent, strong, forceful BLACK man. I only highlight the black part to point out another strength he made me realize I had within myself. In prison, it is still very old school with the racial divides.

1. Black men cell with black men.

2. White men cell with white men.

3. Hispanic men cell with hispanic men.

4. Gay men cell with their lovers or their pimp.

I broke two of the main rules in prison.

I celled with a black man. I was a gay man WHO WAS NOT his lover or his moneymaker. This caused many looks. This situation put me on a hot seat with both the inmates and the guards. As a gay man, I was constantly watched. The guards didn't believe at first that I was sincere with my motives in helping these men get their education. The other inmates were trying to find out if I was running a hustle. It was constantly a struggle to get any time alone. Another rule in prison is a cell is a man's home. If the door is shut, don't bother or knock. If the door is open, feel free to knock and ask to come in. This is very important to remember!!! A cell is a man's home.

On the evening of November 22 things were tense in my cell. I had been wondering why the guards had been circling our cell excessively. In prison, when guards sense trouble, they are there. I cannot complain, nor will I complain about some of the guards. For the most part, they are there for a paycheck but occasionally you actually meet one of them cares. NOT OFTEN-THOUGH!

The guard on duty that night was one of the trusted guards. He had gotten word through the grapevine that tonight, Nov. 22, was going to be the night of my official takeover.

Prior to this happening, I had experienced glances, looks, a few comments about my big black daddy. The jokes about "coal hauling". A coal hauler is a white guy who sleeps with black men. The jokes about getting "home" before he got mad. I let the men think what they wanted. I, along with my cellie knew different. I was not, would not, and could not allow myself to be anyone's property. What I didn't know is that my cellie was talking about this when he was "kicking it" with his homies. Inside my cell, great guy to my face. Outside the cell, with his homies, a completely different man. He had been putting it out among the general population that we were an "item" and that I was his "baby". A baby, in prison, is a man who is protected, serviced and works for his "daddy". And when I say work, it is exactly that.......sexual acts for money.

I found this out from one of my students at school. A black boy, age 22, had told me he was worried about me and he thought I should be concerned. My cellie had told his "homies" in detail what he planned to do to get me to be his "coal hauling bitch". To this day, chills run up my spine at the thought of those words coming out of a 22 year olds mouth to a 40 year old man. I told him not to worry. I would take care of it.

Upon my return to my cell around 5pm, my cellie and I had words. I told him in NO uncertain terms would I be anything to anyone. I would not service anyone. I would not "haul any coal".

Denial from him. Psychological games. The turning into my own doing and my own downfall. The threat that if I didn't accept him or his "prison love", things would get ugly for me with the general population. I was not worried. I knew I had enough friends. The "Joplin Boys, "South city boys", The "family", and my black friends. I told him it was not going to work. One of us had to move, and I went to put the paperwork in motion for the move. All the while I am doing this, I am being watched by the guards. I am being watched by my cellie's homies. And I am noticing that my white friends are lining up along the rails. Everyone knew what was going on. I, again, was the last to know.

I could not get moved that night. I could "check in". "Check in" is the term used for anyone who runs to the guards for protection. It is mainly used by the dumbfucks who charge up drugs and tattoos and then can't pay. A real wussy way out. I would not "check in". That is what everyone expected a "fag" to do. I had earned my respect in prison, and I would be damned if this black man was going to strip me of it. I stayed in my cell until Monday when it could be changed.

I returned to my cell around 8:30 that night. I went to my bunk. The routine had not been altered. It was as if nothing had happened between us. It was creepy. I shrugged it off, I left well enough alone. I was exhausted. Depressed from the holiday. Depressed because my cellies true colors had begun to show.

When I say true colors, I am speaking of what my friends had said about him all along. "bootie bandit", "cho-mo", "black daddy", "crazy", and on top of all of that he is in prison for double homicide!

I know, you are shaking your heads now saying, "why did he cell with him"? Another rule of prison. You NEVER, I mean NEVER, ask a fellow inmate what they did to come to prison. It is another, of many, unwritten codes one must learn to survive.

Of course, I am petrified and now see my cellie in a different light. He is FUCKING NUTS! Not only has he not disclosed something very beneficial to my survival, but now I understand why the guards and certain other inmates watch him very close. I, honestly, thought they watched hoping to see something they shouldn't. I now realize, everyone-guards and inmates, knew this day was coming...........................

Lights out is at 11:00 pm on the weekends. And that is exactly what it means. No TV, No radio, No lights--You in your bunk. NO deviation. NO change. You just adapt.

The lights go out. Cellie wants to talk. I humor him. I tell him I respected him and he abused that.

He was not happy. I remember walking to the sink to get some water when I was shoved against the brick wall. My initial thought was one of total humor. I remember turning around, and saying "are you serious".

He was.

I was trapped.

I'll never forget the smell of his cigarette breath on my back.

I'll never forget the searing pain of the penetration.

I'll never forget the infuriation in my head.

I'll never forget the degradation of my soul.

I'll never forget the lesson it taught me.

I stumbled out of the cell. Fell to the floor outside the cell in a pool of blood.

I remember the guard asking if I was allright. "Was I allright"? I had just had at least 10 inches of nigger cock shoved in my ass, bleeding from my ass, and tears streaming down my face..........."Was I allright".

I blacked out after that. I know I did not pass out. I walked to medical. Yes, walked. I had my ass repaired. I was given two ibuprofen and then taken to "administrative segregation" for my protection and for an investigation.

Now, remember, my cellie is still in our cell. He has cleaned up, the best he could, in the dark. Tried to clean up. I saw one set of photos of the cell and could never look at them again. My blood was a dark path from the sink to the bay outside the cell.

My cellie is taken to "administrative segregation" for investigation. I later found out that three of my friends cleaned my cell up and packed my things.

My cellie had his custody level raised and was shipped to a different prison.

This experience can not and will not ever happen to me again.

The point in this story is that of survival. I know I will survive. A person has no other choice. The choice I do have is to try and work through this nightmare. The easy thing to do is to remember the bad. It is much harder to be thankful for my life. I could have been seriously hurt or murdered. I have cold chills thinking about it again!

So.......on that note. Let me say to my "gay" friends. When I speak of hot men and boys in prison. Know that none of it is from a sexual standpoint. I could not and did not ever equate prison and sex. It was the furtherest thing from my mind. Remember this story when you make the comments about me "getting it on, having a good time, a grand buffet for me to choose from.........

Prison thoughts..........Part one.

My thoughts this morning are on my fellow prisoners. Prisoners that I have met both on the inside and the outside of the razor wire. The similarities are striking. The differences not that deep.

The most surprising thing about prison, to me, is the incessant need for acceptance and respect. Men, when thrown together in a "Piggy-Lord of the Rings" setting, revert back to childhood. Who has the biggest ego, who is the class nerd, who is the class clown, who is the most popular. This simple, yet complex, emotional roller coaster is and was not for the weak minded. In my head, I likened the punishment of prison to that of my basic training mind frame. The military and the prison system are very similar in structure. Very similar in societal structure inside the walls. Extremely alike with the weak do not survive. The word weak is very misleading to society on the outside of the prison walls. Weakness, in the form of body structure and stature, is not the most important thing. Weakness of spirit and lack of confidence in one's self is the quickest downfall to an inmate.

I entered prison with the fear of hate, bigotry, and violence. These things were installed in my head from countless episodes of "Law and Order, OZ, and bad "B" prison movies. This was so not the case. Prison was and still is full of average "joes" that made stupid mistakes. Most of the men slipped up, did drugs, produced drugs, trafficked drugs, or just were trying to feed their family. Victims, in my opinion, of society.

This "society" of average joes, for the most part, are deer caught in headlights. Trapped in a system of downward spirals that often is a viscous circle of parole and violation of parole. A circle that is very hard for the average joe to stop. Upon release from prison you are appointed a state "guardian" --parole officer-- to guide you through this maze of re-entry into normal society. (HA!--this system is a WHOLE different post!) The main thought I am trying to convey here is the need for acceptance is intensified by the very system that tries to deflect your state of being and mind.

In prison, men want respect. Prisoners want love and the feeling of being needed. The straightest arrow, behind the walls of prison, becomes a vindictive, possessive, and needy individual. The "straightest" arrow often resorts to mental warfare and, at times, physical violence. In prison, possesion is power. This possession includes sweatshirts, coffee, other men, groups, jobs, and drugs. And what is crazy, coffee and drugs carry the same amount of retribution for being dishonest. Prisoners who are weak-fight. Prisoners who are strong-play the other inmates. The key to my survival was that of open eyes and an open mind. I was very fortunate that my personality and outlook on life overshadowed my fear of possession. Possession of any kind.

The average prisoner is approached within his first hour of incarceration by the worst and neediest prisoners looking for refuge, handouts, a hustle, or just to find a similar soul. The strongest prisoners, men, sit back and absorb the surroundings. Staking out, weighing the options, or completely ignoring the game. It was and still is amazing to me the intensity and forwardness of some of the men I've encountered in my prison "tour" of the state. The one and only factor that was the same in each of them was "acceptance and love". These men would regale you with funny stories that were always followed with great tales of strength and courage. The closing arguments were always that of "watch out for this one, stay away from that one, this guy is a creep", and on and on. The entire time these stories are going on, the storyteller is looking for your one weak spot. This is where the mental weakness enters the survival of the fittest. You either stand for yourself OR you become something you never thought.

In my first 24 hours at Moberly Correctional Center, I was approached by at least 30 men who wanted to "own" me.

Ego boost? Yes.

Dangerous? Extremely.

Necessary? Of course.

Simple? Never.

Prison was like a giant chess game. Each move had a repercussion. Each action had responsibility either to yourself or to your "group" of friends.

I had one thing on my side. My assurance in who I am and what my boundaries were.

In this 21st century, homosexuality is embraced and accepted on a level so bizarre in prison. Gay men are revered. As crazy as it sounds, gay men are respected for their choice of life and their courage to live their life as they see fit. There are men who are completely against the concept, but prison has taught the average joe that being honest is better than playing a role that is not yourself. The biggest homophobes were some of my closest allies during my incarceration. We each new where we stood, and we respected those boundaries. I was never afraid to hide who or what I am. It would never have been possible. The closet cases in prison are the shady and distrustful.

In reading the previous paragraph it would seem that I am off track with my point and recollections about prison, but it is quite the opposite. My "gayness" protected me. My "gayness" earned me the respect I never had to fight to achieve. My "gayness" was as much a part of me as the color of my skin. My "gayness" was my key to survival.

LIVING MY LIFE...............

The response to my last blog has been numerous via posts and emails.

I am working toward my own resolutions. I am learning that unless I make myself happy at no one's expense, I will truly not be happy.

LIFE, again, is what you make it. I am going to try and make it the best I can for myself and those involved with my life.

Peace out and everyone have a great weekend.

Getting everything you want.........

The last two days have left my head spinning, yet again!

I visited with my ex on Wednesday evening and we relived a few of our past moments in comparison to our life right now. It was sad. It was joyous. It was LIFE.

Now, this visit occurred in the home of my "someone special" who was on his way home. (There is no seedy gay drama here! My ex and this someone special are very close friends. Thanks to my ex for introducing him into my life before I even got out of prison!) After the visit, we went to karaoke with more friends, and came back to "someone special's" house.

The ride home from karaoke is where my head started spinning. More questioning. More wondering. More cerebral debates between my "selves".

To set up this questioning you need to know a few basic facts. (Those of you that know me already know this but bear with me!) I am a very social person. I am very friendly. I am very oblivious to my environment when I am comfortable and safe with my friends. I like to see everyone having a good time and I try not exclude anyone within my radius. Pompous? perhaps. Necessary? no. The way I am? Exactly.........

This was the case Wednesday evening. Close friends and I enjoying a night of bad, cheezy music and fun. New friends. Old friends. Good times.......................

Until I get into the car. That is when I am informed of my overlooking the obvious. A very sweet boy, who I consider to be both mine and my someone special's friend, crossed the line. I, of course, overlooked it all as just another night of fun and laughter. I considered this "Boy" to just be silly and fun. Of course, in the land of Gaydom, it was just another ploy for attention and the possibility of sex.

Herein is where I am confused. How can I be so stupid? How could I have not seen this coming?

Now, I know I am semi-attractive. I am fun to be around. I have a gift for making anyone in my circle of reach feel as if they are the only one on the planet. It is just me. It always has been. This "gift" is what was crucial to my survival in prison. (WHOLE DIFFERENT POSTING!)

Between the talk, the incident, the coming together of my life--I asked my "someone special" if it was all possible? too quick? too convenient? TOO EASY?

His response, very sweetly, "perhaps God is finally giving you the break you have earned". Very nice. Very sincere.

Again, herein is the problem. This statement coming from him put my guard right back up. Am I just going with the flow? --OR-- Have I created an environment of convenience? Let me explain.

I struggled in prison. I paid my price. I did my time. I got out of prison.

The entire time I was in prison, no surprises here, everyone continued with their life. Everyone old, everyone new, everyone continued.........

I came out of prison, was plunged back into my life and everyone I once knew. I struggled, as I do now, trying to succeed. Working very hard to become someone that I was not before I went into prison. It has been well documented on here of my stuggles and doubts.

My ex had moved on. He had his own place. His OWN life, void of me, and was doing fine. I know it was not easy for him, but he did it without anyone.

I met "someone special". An answer to my prayers. A complete opposite of what I wanted upon my release. I did not want a relationship. I was going to be a "playa"!......quit laughing!

I was struck upon introductions to "someone special". We are doing great. He is fabulous. We are happy. We complete one another, after 70 days, and are very compatible.

Is this too quick? Have I closed off my future? Or have I secured it for the first time in my life?

This "drama" in my head is just that. "DRAMA".

I always preach to live for the day. I could be dead tomorrow. I am living with these thoughts. I am processing all my possibilities. I want the best for myself and "someone special".

THIS POSTING SHOULD GENERATE EVEN MORE DRAMA!!!!

Setting the record straight........

It is amazing the thoughts that cross my mind.

It is amazing to me the doubts I sometimes feel putting my thoughts out there.

It is amazing that in today's world I should feel guilty for nothing!

I've thought a lot since my last posting and I've come to realize that people are going to think and do whatever they want. Why should they be any different than I?

In essence, the duality of my thoughts bounce back and forth between pleasing myself and pleasing those in my life. The Ying-Yang effect of the pull between my lobes leaves me queasy.

I have changed. I have not changed. The struggle to become something other than "friend", "ex-con", "lover", "brother", "man", and human is staggering. Each one of these facets of my life makes me who I am.

I am complicated.

I am not complicated.

I am free.

I am trapped.

Now, before everyone gets upset. Let me explain.

The complexity of my life, as not complex as it is, is grating.

The constant need to be busy. The constant need to be needed. The constant need to be wanted. The constant need of peace. The constant need of joy. The constant need of sorrow.

I know this is all a part of growing. A part of life. The things everyone must go through and endure to become strong. The so called "rights of passage".

I, in hindsight, create every drama that enters my life. I spread myself to thin. I try to be everything to everyone and then bitch about "me" time. Crazy? Yes. Necessary? Yes. Life? Yes.

My faithful readers know me as well as I know myself. I am not complaining. I am not bitching. I am just on a man-box at the moment.

I know each of us have struggles. I know each of us strive for our own version of "perfection".

My question is this? If we reach that level of "perfection" in our lives, what then? What, then, becomes the drive to force yourself out of bed every morning? What becomes the need in your own life to succeed, if you have already attained success? What if everything you wanted and worked for in life was thrown in your lap?

Life is not meant to be easy. It is not meant to be happy. It is meant to be what you want it to be. Happy. Sad. Good. Bad. The decision is in your hands.

One must create one's own life. It can not be dictated by people, places, situations, or guilt.

A very dear man I know is getting ready to embark on the hardest journey of his life. I adore this man. I admire this man. I pity this man.

The pity is out of concern. The pity is out of my need to make his life easier, and in essence, there is nothing I can do but hold his hand and lend my ear. I wish him the best. I know he will survive.

The question is what part of him is going to be defeated and infinately change his soul? I spoke with my friend this morning and his spirits were up. The thought of his freedom was overwhelming to him. The concept of being who he wants to be has set him free. The reality of it will destroy lives. Not in a fatal, death sense.........just the thought of everyone questioning his truthfullness. Questioning his loyalties. Questioning his love. Questioning the reasons behind this "change".

I feel for this friend. I know exactly what he is going through with the question of guilt, trust, love, lost friendships, lost lives........only to be bombarded with new doubts and questions for the rest of his life.

There is no easy way to do it. There is never going to be a right time. It will just happen. He, like myself, will pay the price and emerge a "different" person.

This "different" person is who I am upset about.

I know how hard it is to pull yourself up from the drudges. I know how satisfying it is to succeed, if just for a second, in life. After you hit rock bottom, everything else is smooth sailing.

I have rambled quite a bit this morning, but the main thought is this.

Live your damn life. Deal with messes along the way. Clean up your messes and move on. True people-friends, children, family, associates-will be there. IF, and only IF, you are honest from the beginning.

GOOD LUCK "R"..........you are in my thoughts.

New beginnings in a new beginning......

In the course of a week, life has transformed itself once again.

I, now, KNOW I have the support and love in my life that was missing.

I know it was there all the time and I just kept overlooking the obvious.

I am thankful for everyone and everything that has brought me to this realization.

In prior posts I speak of jaded feelings from old friends. The prospect of new friends. The losses of family and friends. The "mourning" that I have went through. Each of these steps have been a process to discover what is truly important and special in my life.

I will miss the old life. I will always have the memories of my old life.

It is time, amen, to set it free.

The constraints of my old persecutions and persecutors are GONE. I no longer care for or about their narrow views. I will always carry a special place in my heart for these people and friends, but alas, the friendships have ran the course they were destined.

It is nice to remember the good times, but it is extremely hard to pretend as if things can ever be the same. Yesterday the views really showed through the petty comments, the condescending glances, and the jealousy of my "success". I sometimes think these "friends" don't realize they are doing it, but I know human nature. I am no expert, but the repetition of certain views, words, looks, and feelings are too obvious to not be purposeful. I am through with it. These "friends" took a happy situation for me and turned into a mockery of my past life versus my present. Childish. Immature. And extremely transparent.

It amazes me in the gay community that once a person-myself-finds a sliver of happiness, the real thoughts and words come out. Sure, fake smiles-c0ngratulations and the such, but underneath a feeling of self pity that can only be expressed by typical "gay" bitchy and cattiness. All for naught. None of it effects my feelings or life, but re-inforces my thoughts on what my life has become.

MINE.

It is that simple. My life does not and will not revolve the approval of certain "friends" or acquaintances. I am living, for the first time, for myself and the man I care deeply for. No approval needed. None expected.

I am very secure in my decision. I am very secure in my own skin. I am very distressed at the views of simple people.

My life has blossomed into something far greater than I ever thought a year ago it would become.

Someone very close to me is going through a change in their life. This person is questioning their choices. Doubting their own future. It is UNREAL to see this occur in someone else. It is very humbling to know that hearts break for many reasons, but the most important one is that of loss and the results from it. This person will end up on the high road. This person will do what is best for the situation. Not for everyone involved, but for themselves. That is how it should be. Life is not to be observed, but lived. Good luck to you, although, your luck will not outshine your true, heartfelt feelings!

Two rules-both correct for life, they are simple.

1. LIVE.

2. Loudly.

Go big or go home!

I, now, have TWO purposes in my life. My own happiness and the happiness of my peanut.

I have been extremely lucky with new friends. Extremely lucky with love.

ENJOYING LIFE..........

There has been a change. A positive change. A change only I could bring about.

There is something refreshing in accepting those things in life that you cannot change. Something refreshing in embracing those "people and situations" that create, no contribute, to your life.

All the drama. All the laughter. All the tears.

It is for one purpose.............

TO LET YOU KNOW YOU ARE ALIVE AND LOVED!!

Each day I learn a little more about myself and my surroundings.

Firm feet are never guaranteed.

Slippery slopes are always around for your demise or testing.

The key is to be prepared mentally for anything and everything.

I am not trying to sound like a fortune cookie. I am not saying I have all the answers. I am just saying that with each day a new form of acceptence with myself broadens my horizons.

I am thankful for everything, everyone, and every breath my body inhales.

ENJOYING LIFE.

can't stop the tears...........

I am sitting here, a 40 year old man, crying like there is no tomorrow.

I believe it is a combination of things.

distrust.

scolding.

mocking.

being put in my place.

What bothers me, is no one realizes they are doing it because I am too big a PUSSY to say anything out of fear.

Fear of homelessness, fear of hunger, fear of being useless.

If I just suck it up. Try not to think about it, it will all go away...........right?

WRONG...........

I have to man up or face the consequences.

I just don't want to lose what little I have at the moment. It isn't much, but, I always have to be reminded how "lucky" I am to have what I have thanks to everyone but me............

BEFORE YOU READ THE POST BELOW.

Please remember everyone who reads this. When I write these "posts" it is an avenue for me to let go of my feelings and discomfort.

I appreciate all the comments, but please, don't tell me how "wonderful", how "great" my life is. I know these things, but I am tired of trying to be Polly Perfect.

rodney

Fighting the feeling...............................

My foremost thoughts at the moment are those of unbelief!

I, thanks to Boss and others, have realized how "great" my life is.

How wonderful it is to have friends.

The point of my last blog topic was to vent. To unleash my pain. To voice my FRUSTRATION.

Am I truly that shallow? Am I truly that naive? Am I truly that stupid?

In the process of the last 24 hours, I again, have been met head on by my own life. A life that all I am trying to do is live.

I have been accused of "stealing" someones home. "Taking" for granted someones life. And, as crazy as this is, "working" too close to a "friends' " personal territory.

Now...........I caught a lot of grief from Boss for not looking at the big picture.

Lets list this, shall we?

1. Yes. I have a wonderful home with a wonderful family. Yes I love everyone in this home. Yes it is a bumpy ride. NO ......I have never, and will never think anything but love for this.

2. As far as taking time for distractions and "looking" at other drama. Forget it. I am depressed, resentful, and distracted enough with my life to even try to "enjoy" someone else's drama. Real, or hollywood.

3. Relationships. I've blogged before on the merits of "gay" relationships. It seems the more honest one is, the worse it is for the relationship. Perhaps I should just give it up. I've tried everything I could. I am trying to understand it. I am trying to LIVE for the moment. I honestly don't know what else to do.

4. Self worth. It has been my experience in the last 63 days that the more self worth I try to install in myself, the more someone wants to knock it away. As tragic a homo as I am, I am going to quote Julia Sugarbaker from Designing Women when she was talking to Suzanne about being fat. In summary, Julia told Suzanne that people live to hear three things--Someone has went broke, someone is sick and dying, and someone is fat or down on there luck. The moment anyone tries to turn their life or luck around, it is fodder for their demise. I refuse to let ANYONE, ANY SITUATION, OR ANY THING make me question my choices in life. I deal with my life everyday. I deal with my feelings everyday. I am nothing special. I am everything special. The deal is this--I am WHO I AM.

5. Personal space. Personal boundaries. In the course of the last 2 years I have went from having everything to having nothing. It was my own doing. It is my own problem to build it back. My problem is this. Why is it that everyone feels as if they have the right to "voice" their opinion and thoughts as to how I am to live and breath in this world, and I don't have any right to say anything to anyone about anything? I am tired of doing this and will no longer be a part of it. I have seen many, many, many things in my time since my release that I have bit my tongue about. I don't feel as if I have a right, as a friend, to pass judgment or to be the jury in situations that don't require my "input". Why does everyone feel as if they have the god given right to interject into what "I" need to do.

I am extremely hurt. I am extremely upset. I don't know what to do.

NOT "MANLY" ENOUGH...........

Frustration? Frustrated? Fucking pissed!

I've recently discovered, in the last 10 minutes, how gay I really am. Not through my own discovery, but that of societal views. It is not enough that I have fought my entire life to be "whom" I am , but yet it is still not enough for everyone.

Fuck Everyone! I have spent the last 40 years of my life being told how I am to act, how I am to behave, how I am to love, who I am to love, what I am to love, why I am to love, why I can't love, why I am not allowed to BE.......

In prison, like high school and free society, there are RULES. The difference with prison and the free world is the ground upon which a person stands.

No subterfuge. No deception.

Just black and white.

Right or wrong.

Life or death.

Love and hate.

I always knew where I stood in prison. I was a gay man. I was a proud man. I was a RESPECTED MAN. Why can it not be the same out here?

Now, many people will argue that I am just fooling myself into the false sense of security that a contained society ensures. In reality, it was a sense of security. You always knew who your enemies were. You always knew who had your back. You always knew "how" to survive.

I, honestly, don't know anymore.

I've tried to live my last 62 days with respect.

Understanding.
Love.
Compassion.
Friendship.
Family..............all for naught.

No amount of self respect can ever replace the disdain that is caused by the lack of "seeing" who I actually have become. I thought I was doing the right things. I thought I was living the "right" way.

Along the way, I forgot that society, friends, family, casual acquaintances, and complete strangers hold more power than any singular source located in your own soul. I forgot the pain of being "different". I forgot the pain of being "myself". I thought I could handle it, I can't.

People don't realize the pain involved with living day to day in a society full of hate and prejudice that is so "hidden". In prison, you knew who hated the "fags". You knew who wanted to use you for whatever. You knew when you were about to be blindsided.

Here on the outside. The "false security" that prison reinforces in your mind is blown to pieces.

I have NEVER been a weak man. I have never backed down from a fight. I have never not stood for what I believe.......In prison, that was a plus. It was a positive thing. An admirable quality, a trustworthy quality. Something that made you a man more than any violence, hatred, or bigotry.

This blog is not directed at one person, but all people.

Give it a rest. Give me a chance.

I like men.

I like women.

I just want to respected. I want to be looked upon for the man I am becoming. I don't want to be judged for the person I sleep with. I don't want to be judged for baking cookies. I don't want to be judged for loving a job with no future!

I just want to be respected for trying to utilize and appreciate what I have in my life at this present time. I don't always want to be an ex-convict loser. I want to be a successful man in MY head.

I could say I don't give a shit about what people think of me, but it would be a lie. Everyone worries about that.

I just want a fair chance, like everyone else. Is that too much to ask? Perhaps it is, and I have to grow an even thicker skin than I thought I had. After 40 years you would think a stupid comment wouldn't shake a man to his core.

I wish it were true. But it is not.

Shaken, broken, scared, and ashamed of what I have become again.

It is sad to say, but I felt better about myself in prison. At least there, I knew where I stood in my own head.

No questions.
No doubts.
No false pretenses.

Why can't I have it here with the people that supposedly love and care for me?

Frustration....

Hands tied. Down for the count. Situations out of control.

The rain continues in the land of Oz.

For the second time in this short life of mine, post-conviction, I am at a crossroads in my thinking. An extremely, life altering, mind jarring decision that I alone have to make. The involvement of people in my life is not a factor in this process, but the decisions I make will have repercussions for the rest of my life...................

TOO MUCH DRAMA!!!!.............

DRAMA FREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!............

Upon my release from prison, I swore to myself, that for the first time in my life, I would make decisions for my own benefit. No more self sacrificing for the people in my life. Now, I am not self sacrificing anything but the mystery and the unknown. The question lies in the fact of facing the unknown or going with my gut.

Either way it leaves a knot in my stomach, a feeling of FRUSTRATION.