….because I finally came out to my mother.  I would’ve preferred to tell them both, but dad had pressing obligations.  Once those are out of the way, he’ll be in a better place to process my confession.  Coming out is exactly as I imagined it.  After I’d finally said it, I was walking on air.  A weight had been lifted, and possibilities became limitless.  I could finally be who I was, uninhibitedly.  Let’s just say, Armin Van Buuren’s “Youtopia” found its way onto my ipod the next morning.

 As I sat on my mom’s bed, half listening to her jabber away, I told myself, “you will not leave this room until you’ve told her.” Suddenly it occurred to me: your sexuality doesn’t matter.  Days and days of building myself up and, finally, this revelation sinks in.  Nothing about our relationship has anything to do with my sexuality.  It didn’t matter at all.  And even if it did, that would be her problem.  Other more rational thoughts started rushing to my head, such as this is a late in life moment to come out.  Their friends will wonder why it took so long.  Why now? Why not sooner?  This was all of the motivation I needed. 

With that inner pep talk, I grabbed my mother’s hands, looked her in the eye and said “gay.” Yes, gay was all I said.  She looked at me and said “you are?”  What followed was a series of questions about boyfriends and secrets.  Then came the annoyingly condescending talk about aids and std’s. Grazi mom, I didn’t know that wearing a condom stopped those things from happening.  Next time I have sex, it will definitely be a point of consideration. YOU JUST SAVED MY LIFE!  Fuck it, pick your battles.  My inner most secret was out there, and my identity no longer felt fractured.

Things felt different immediately.  For example, today was my best day of work so far :DD It can be somewhat attributed to the fact that a new employee came in today.  She’s a full time employee, not an intern, which means she actually needs a lot of attention.  I just hopped on like a little leached and sucked up everything she was getting.  Free lunches, training, meet and greets…these were all for her, and now for me too!

Interacting in the office became a more enjoyable experience.  Keeping my homosexuality a secret most definitely made me constantly miserable.  With that off my chest, I was able to proverbially get my shit together.  Now that my mom knows, it feels as if I’ve claimed my place in this world.  Thinking became more active and strategic.  A serious drive was imbued in my psyche.  I looked at my office environment, thought about what I wanted and everything started to come together.  Why the fuck did I wait so long to do this? I guess I just wasn’t ready yet.

The real world is at my front door step, and I know just how to let it in. Yes cheese again! Whatevsssss.  Today feels like the beginning of great things to come.  Next on my list is to throw myself into total slut spiral mode.  I’m ready to go have sex, a lot of it.  All of my exploits will be documented on this page, and I think I’ll have the motivation to make it sound good.  You see! This is drive! I guess this post should’ve been well written too. Looks like I’m still a little lazy. Oh well! Nothing can ruin this day.  Perhaps I’ll find more inspiration to blog again later. Blog, blog, what a great word. Fun to say, fun to type, great to have.

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….if it’s still going on. In the past, my approach to all long time endeavors was extremely unhealthy.  Whether it be a new semester, summer camp, or a new school, I always managed to put myself in a bubble floating separately from anyone else.  From day one, I would set unreasonably high expectations for myself.  So high that I psyched myself out, and became dysfunctional.  Establishing such circumstances almost never lead to a good outcome.  Under the pressure, I would become reserved and develop strange ticks.  It wasn’t like I had tourettes, but my behavior was definitely alienating to everyone around me.  Before I knew it, the day was over and none of my expectations had been met.  With my head hanging low, I would sulk home and snuggle up in my room, away from the everything. 

I had somehow managed to warp the world into a scary unconquerable place.  Everything was so stressful, and my confidence was so low, that I remained largely disengaged.  First day blues would set a theme for the rest of my experience.  Everyday would be a failure, and it would make me more stressed, more angry and more regretful.  A voice would tell me “well, if you couldn’t do it yesterday, you certainly couldn’t do it now.”

As mentioned in past posts, this pattern has been broken to an extent.  Most new experiences are still stressful to a degree, but I’ve largely replaced my monstrosity of a worldview with a more rational mindset.  It is now clear to me that I don’t have to be the smartest, the funniest, prettiest or most of anything.  If I am just myself, I tend to naturally fit into a comfortable role in social dynamics.  Just be your open self and everyone will love you! Another piece of cookie cutter advice that makes all the sense in the world.  For some reason, internalizing that simple message has been especially hard for me.

In a more relaxed state, I actually do quite well.  I’m sure that if I were more relaxed about this blog, it would be much better written.  But my manic attention to grammar and sentence structure is actually hindering my abilities.  Sometimes, I manage to enter this state of little to no worries (usually after many days of getting high) where I can do anything.  Writing papers, social interaction and all other tasks that were once so scary to me are nothing now.  Somehow, this rationally part of my brain awakens.  It’s no worries ever, and things just get done. 

The problem is, I can’t be smoking weed everyday to be a person.  That kind of dependency sounds depressing.  Also, the financial investment really isn’t feasible at the moment.  Secondly, the daily stoner walks the slippery slope of just becoming too lazy.  This is another example of me not trusting myself.  In all honesty, one of my biggest regrets was not experimenting with drugs sooner.  My drug experiences have really helped me gain perspective and really think about who I am as a person.  Mothers of the world may shriek if they read this, but drugs saved my life and I recommend that every confused adolescent try them, just don’t lose your shit.  More on that some other time.  It’s a little controversial for this post, which is, more or less, an after school special.

The point of this post is that my day at work wasn’t terrible.  It’s been up and down so far, with me struggling to find a good footing.  I was sure that one of my bosses hated me and found me overbearing.  He probably did, but a meeting today reaffirmed that he still found me intelligent, which is better than nothing.  At least I’m not annoying and an idiot.  On the social front, making office friends has been a bit of a problem.  Like, what do you talk to co-workers about? This is all so alien to me!! I temporarily fell into one of my old social black holes, but go myself out of it. 

For the first time, my plate was full with many tasks.  Staying busy is always a good way to get through work.  Also, the confusing guy I’m casually seeing facebook chatted me up this afternoon.  Communicating with him is still a challenge because he is honestly the weirdest guy on Earth, but I’m still drawn to him.  The convo ended well and he shot me a heart before running off to some gallery opening.  I sincerely believe I am getting up the courage to talk to the people around me.  It’s strange being surrounded by people in another department.  Why did they put me with the sales chicks? Sales is kind of the professional world version of greek life, but that suits me fine, considering my state school lineage.  Let’s go get drunk guys!

Anyways. the point is, the beginning wasn’t great.  I put too much pressure on myself.  My parents put too much pressure on me as well.  The only solution is to just sit back, relax and do what I need to do.  I want to succeed, I want to have friends and be happy.  Hopefully this is doable without taking copious bong rips.  There must be a path to happiness that isn’t coated in weed smoke.  After today, I felt that I was getting there.  Succeeding here is possible.  My early actions don’t have to dictate the rest of my experience.  Just let them roll off your shoulders.  These people are stuck with me for 8 more weeks, I might as well give myself more chances and turn shit around in my favor.

So, tomorrow morning, as I get ready to close out the week, I’ll take my metaphorical bong rip and be off on my way.  Can’t wait! Postivity! Lame sauce yesss, but it works. Corny works, it always works! Don’t ask my why.

…to a grown up version of Marshall from United States of Tara.  After some lovely reading in the park, I came home this evening and went balls to the wall with netflix.  Yes, this next episode will be the season finale of USoT season 1.  I started the pilot this morning, so all of season 1 was viewed within 24 hours. 

What an amazing fucking show.  Toni Colette is an amazing actress, but the main driver is Marshall.  He is Tara’s son who is all but openly gay.  At a preteen age, he is open, dynamic and active.  Everyday is a new set of amazing formal wear for this kid.  He joined a religious homo curing group to get closer to a boy.  If there is a school organization of substance, he is a part of it.  I look at this boy and think, this is everything I wish I was. 

It’s crazy because, in some key ways, I was similar to Marshall. Our main connection is a love of film.  He is always referencing film, citing trivia or getting others into older movies.  His experience in debate mirrors my college Model UN experience. I look at this boy and think, “what could I have done with myself had I been this open and active.”  My homosexuality crippled me, and he pushed on to do other things.  It was just one part of him, he didn’t let it consume him with sadness and self-pity. 

I’m done with this because the complaining is just self pity perpetuated.  Let’s just say I love the kid.  He is one cool dude, one cool gay dude tv character.  I am proud to say that at the age of 14 or so, Marshal is a role model to me. When the gay kicks in, he totally embraces it.  He is developing as a normal gay boy should. 

‘Tara’ fills me with joy because it shows how much closer the gay community is getting to the mainstream.  Sure, the show is not on network television, but who even watches network television anymore? People want cutting edge, and fortunately, it appears that saving the gays is now cutting edge.  When Marshall wants to join the evangelical group, his sister sees right through it.  She immediately makes fun of him for doing this stupid activity in pursuit of a boy.  At the conclusion of this scene, I took a step back and thought about the unfolding events.  I went back through the scene and realized, if his scheming were for a girl, everything would’ve been the same.  His sister would’ve mocked him in exactly the same way.  Marshall’s preference toward boys didn’t make a hint of difference.  With this realization, I couldn’t stop smiling.

As a homosexual, I hate seeing these ‘specials’ where they treat being gay as if it were like having cancer.  No, just no.  Mom shouldn’t be crying and dad shouldn’t be shaking his head understandingly and patting you on the back! NOOOOO.  Marshall is gay, chasing after boys and the family is just there for him.  Tara gives him words of advice. Marshall talks about his boy, and his father merely says “you’ve got the love bug son.”  Yes, he is gay, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is a son and a brother.  These relationships stay the same.  Everyone loves him, and sexual orientation has nothing to do with it.  Why must this be such a big factor in the family unit?  Cock hunting has NOTHING to do with these other relationships, and USoT couldn’t show that more clearly. I love this show for existing.  It is because of Marshall that I can’t stop watching. He is really and inspiration to me, and his attitude will affect my life going forward.

Some of this shit might seem on point, and other shit might be ludicrous.  To be honest, I’ve had a four loko.  That drink is like crack, out of control! This post is my feelings.  Feelings, uninhibited feelings, that is the Marshall way.  Can you please call me when you’re the appropriate age? I really want to get to know you more. K thanksss.

…kindly shut the fuck up.  You are a big fucking jerk and nobody wants to hear your verbal abuse.  I wish I could convey the message this frankly, and have him lucidly agree.  Unfortunately, lucid isn’t even in my father’s vocabulary.  My relationship to him is complicated.  Yes, everyone’s father/child dynamic is uniquely complex, but I only know my own. 

You can only know your own relationships.  Sure, come to me and explain the issue.  I’ll sit with you, comfort you and support you, but empathizing is next to impossible.  Oprah is the only woman with this power to understand every human issue and power through to the solution.  All other people don’t have a clue.  My issues with my father cannot be summarized at a happy hour bitch fest.  I hope to shed some light in this post, but I expect no advice.  You don’t know, you can’t know and I don’t expect you to.  It’s every detail of every interaction compiled into one consensus emotion toward him that doesn’t have a name. I feel it, but I don’t know it.  Seriously, therapy is important for stuff like this.

Let me just say that I love my father.  He definitely loves me too, but the man just can’t love me the way I need him to.  After 60 years of living, a person is stuck in their ways.  He was already wired to be an emotionally removed, OCD scholar with a volatile temper.  His accomplishments include: Johns Hopkins PHD, Columbia University Professor, and Goldman Sachs super star.  There are failures, but he doesn’t see them as failures. Supportive father, loving husband and a myriad of other emotions aren’t high on his priority list.  Oh no, his ego and narcissism knows no bounds.  My sister and I are the children, yet he throws all of the tantrums.  Apparently, we are never appreciative enough.

Back to the love part. Yes he does love us.  He will work hours upon hours to make money and send us to some elite private school.  The kids have savings to fall back on in the early stages of adulthood.  He currently stays home full time to help my sister get through her bio classes.  This, to him, is love or something.  Whatever this is, he thinks he’s doing his job.  That isn’t a father’s job.  The highest of degrees is framed on the walls, but, as a dad, he is at the bottom of the class.

As a kid, I played a lot of sports.  Soccer, basketball and baseball followed me through out the school year.  Being a lovely confused gay boy, I had went through the motions with little interest.  One spring, my dad decided to give me his childhood glove.  My mother had warned me he was a hoarder.  During his professorship, he would save papers and textbooks until the piles reached the ceiling.  Work was his baby, and the sentiments of his work meant more to him than his children.  So, when he entrusted me with his glove, he was giving me one of his children.  In my hands was an object that had more signs of fatherly love than I. 

You can imagine the verbal abuse I received for losing it.  We found out the next day that my coach had it the whole time.  Had I known it sooner, the previous day’s events could’ve been avoided. First there was yelling in my face, then chasing me around the house and, finally, me on the street asking strangers if he’d seen daddy’s precious glove.  After getting it from my coach, I handed it back to my dad.  He looked at me and said “oh, you found it.” 

Unfortunately, I am not a good enough writer to really convey the fear 7 year old me felt from his wrath.  His reaction wasn’t appropriate, but no one can tell him that.  My mother would try, and the anger would grow.  There was nothing to do.  He was unfixable. 

There is so much more to say.  So much has happened since then, some good, some bad and some completely tragic.  Today he is a broken man, and I am a fractured boy, slowly pulling the pieces together.  The truth is, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.  Maybe a solution still exists, but I don’t care to find it.  I’ve made my peace with my dad’s fucked up persona.  He can waste away all he likes. Have a nice life; I’m over it.

Again, I cannot convey my issues with my dad because it is a million experiences.  A blog is a compilation of life experiences.  It can’t possibly be comprehensive enough to define a life or a relationship, but it can get you a lot closer.  This blog, as poorly written as it is, serves this purpose for me.  After every entry, I find that I know a little more about myself.  The things that I feel cannot be put directly into words. But the more I write, the better I can know myself.  What I know now is that I’m over my father/son dynamic.  It will forever be something that no one ever knew.

..I am coming out tonight. My decisions, my sense of identity and self confidence are beyond warped.  The only way to get better is to come out.  Once my parents know, it will be fully real.  I can finally start figuring out who the fuck I am.  When you’re laying on the floor of your room while some boy is chugging malibu from the bottle and 11am, it’s time to make a fucking change.  Tonight is the night to come out.  Be honest with them and you’ll be more honest with yourself.

I need to ditch these bad guys.  Almost all of them have been just a subconsiously self loathing as I am.  It’s drawn us together.  We all do drugs. We’re young, we thing.  This is just us having fun and being young.  I am all for that, trust me.  It’s the moments when I take a step back and realize, this isn’t the only reason.  I need a clear mind.  I need to find some stability and find footing.  This means being honest, open and proud.  First love myself completely, others will follow. 

This post will be brief because I am currently in a funk and stress balls are all up on me.  Like, come on dude. Please don’t get stupid drunk in my room before noon, with my dad and sister in the other room.  I just sat there silently and prayed he’d leave.  What does he do next? Walk through my living room with a beer in hand.  Thanks man, my parents are already suspicious of my drinking.  Then, of all things, he tries to kiss me at the door.  No, just no.  It was rude, but it was I who felt the most ridiculous. Hiding this is stupid. I need to get over it.  This guy is a mess, but an openly gay mess.  He is still one step ahead of me.

Oh another update on how clueless my parents are.  I go out clubbing with this flamer, and my dad sees me in the morning covered in glitter, GLITTER! Dad no straight guys come home on pride weekend covered in glitter.  Open your eyes por favor! The clubbing and glitter story are to follow later. Fun stories should be written in a fun mood. 

I’ll conclude with the fun fact that glitter is extremely hard to wash out.  Two showers later and I still look like a Twilight vampire.  Work should be sufficiently awkward on Monday. Gay boy problems!!

.. because it is the only way to get stuff done.  Episodes is kind of an over statement.  I will merely be doing normal people things like setting goals and scheduling my time.  No need to worry though.  There will still be plenty of immaturity.  For example, today I ran across the street just to avoid awkward small talk.  On another note, my co-workers love to gossip, get black out drunk and hit up all da music festivals.  Wait is this college. No, it’s a professional environment.

Today, my goals were to address my bosses to make some headway at this job.  The team is always so busy that I get forgotten.  Time goes by and I just twittle my thumbs.  Two summers age, those same thumbs were twiddled every day at another totally different internship.  Needless to say, the boy connected to those thumbs wasn’t the biggest standout at that institution.  It didn’t bother me because I hated that place.  I even left a week early to escape the misery of wall street and the financial world. 

Unfortunately, the parental units would’ve exploded, had they found out (fortunately?..).  Anyways, that ended with me leaving in the mornings in a suit, changing in a diner and laying around in the park all day.  It was a great week.  I had so much money from that job.  The week consisted of movies, nice meals and cool clothes.  Most of it was experienced alone, but it was fulfilling none the less.  There’s something fulfilling about doing stuff alone.  You can be thoughtful, and whip out a book in your downtime.  I highly recommend it.

Ahhh, shut up! The point is, I’m not that little boy anymore.  I am determined to make this internship work.  My bosses are busy, but I won’t be timid about inserting myself into their day.  E-mails were sent, office small talk was made and I had the genius idea to make a memo.  My memo consisted of a long list of annoyingly menial task I could fulfill to make everyone’s day a little better.  Everyone responded really well to it.  Today was another professional win.  Loud girl is still a problem though.  She is so nice, but I want to punch her in the face! Shut up!

I just want to say, that I get extremely distracted during this blog post.  Interactions were funneling to my twitter account, and the intense shooter episode of greys anatomy is playing in the background (such an adrenaline rush!). Commercial break now, so I’ll get to the meat.

Blah blah blah, work is just fluff talk.  I promised that I would actually come out to my sister.  Well, that is over and done with, and what a relief! She didn’t care. Heck, she didn’t give two shits.  The words whimpered out of my mouth after about an hour of stressful pacing.  Once the deed was done, I sat there on her bed waiting for a response. She was like “okay” and went back to watching Pretty Little Liars.  That annoying girl stayed the same annoying girl, and I stayed exactly the same to her. Nothing changed, it was beautiful. 

And with that, I floated back to my bed and popped in some headphones.  The Dirty Projectors was the first band I listened to, after the fact.  The Brooklyn based band (so brooklyn, love brooklyn!) will forever make me jubilant.  My parents are still an issue, but whatever I’ll deal with that later.  No, today. Maybe today.

My sister had her suspicions, which made the revelation pretty easy.  When I asked if she had any insight into mom and dad, she was looked at me and said “they’re clueless.” Fantastic, I have the dumbest parents on Earth.

…slightly more of a man.  Well, maybe not.  I “came out” to my sister.  Yes, today was the day that everyone was supposed to find out, but it isn’t over yet.  What I do now is mouth the words “I’m gay” while around my parents.  It’s to the point where I can whisper it.  Hopefully, this littler exercise will get me over the hump.

Oh yeah, “coming out.” This is different from actually coming out, and it’s the most ridiculous thing ever.  I was sitting at dinner with my sister.  Things got weird, because I kept doing that thing where I would look at her to the point where she got weirded out, then awkwardly turned away.  This went on for a while. 

As I downed more glasses of wine, I could feel the moment getting closer. There were butterflies in my stomach, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore.  “Listen” I said, as I nervously started playing with her hair (which has never happened before…).  “My friends are coming down this weekend..” “Oh really” she said.  This was a beyond normal thing, but the circumstances were quite different this time.  “They’re coming down for an event.”  It was the point of no return.  With that phrase, I pulled her close to me and whispered in her ear “gay pride.” 

As I let her go, I mustered up the balls to lift up my head and look her straight in the eye.  “Oh” she said nonchalantly, “Are you going to that too?” I was like “ummm,,,,,yaaaa,” a little taken aback.  “Oh okay have fun.”  Then, in the words of Aldus Snow, she chose to keep living her life.

You must know what “coming out” means by now.  It means I told her, she didn’t get it and I didn’t give that extra push to correct her.  To sum up, I can inaudibly whisper “I’m gay” to my parents and fake come out to my sister.  Oh well, progress is progress.

The issue of my friends and gay pride weekend seems to have been side stepped.  My parents are going to the Hamptons this weekend to open our pool. So, the issue of coming out has become a little less pressing, which kind of bums me out.  Now there are more reasons to put this off.  I know I want this weight off of me.  Why can’t I just let myself be happy? Why is this subconscious part of me that is still self loathing? I want to find this asshole fraction of my identity and obliterate it! He must be completely purged from my body because he sucks.

The good thing is, something came out.  I already feel better.  “Coming out” was the tip of the iceberg.  I am really close to coming out, I can feel it.  Build up is key, and I never realized that.  Once this shit is over and done with, my life will improve exponentially.  I just wish this was what I wanted 100%.  What is holding me back? What is my problem? I’m a pussy! Oh wait, self hating is so teen.  Let’s be an adult about this.  Roll this off your shoulders and come out, but do it sooon!

On a lighter note, work was good today.  I was better with people. Lots of little office mingling.  Asian hipster told me I was smart, which was nice.  Annoying loud girl is actually pretty funny when her loud wit is directed to you and it isn’t totally distracting.  The other intern and I have slight tension because we both are fighting for the same work space, but she’s nice enough. Plus, she’s in sales and away on meetings all of the time. 

Today I was trained in using some softwares.  It went pretty well. I did some stuff on my own.  They said it was right, and that is a success to me! Then came market research.  My ideas were apparently spot on.  I’m a little suspicious of my boss.  He’s always like “you’re amazing!” and I’m like “All I did was take some notes..” Maybe he thinks I’m retarded? Oh well, he’s at a wedding tomorrow.  He can entertain the bride and groom his enthusiasm.  In all seriousness. I love he.  There is no one I’d rather be working for.

Finally, this woman brought her amazingly cute dog to work today.  It was a shizu poodle.  She lovingly called it a “shitpoo.” Needless to say, I considered putting it in my bag and hauling ass out of there.  My puppy fever is hitting overdrive! Why can’t it be the same for my need to come out?? Maybe tomorrow, maybe later tonight.  I’ll come out to my sister for real tonight, and that’s a promise. 😀