It Was An Accident

Yesterday my mom dropped Xavier.

I was not there to witness this, but according to her, he fell 4 feet and onto concrete...

***

We had just gotten back from the vet's office. I pulled into my parking spot and my mom informed me that she needed me to bring the stuff from the back of the car into the house because she needed to take a shit. Sorry for being real, but this is my mother.

As she's getting out of the car, she volunteers to take Xavier with her up into my apartment. I tell her that I want to wrap Xavier's traveling cage up in a blanket so that no one can see him. Xavier, in case you hadn't seen previous blogposts or the photo above, is my 5 year old ferret. Ferrets as pets are stupidly still illegal in California  in 2013, so I keep his carrier, and himself, hidden from plain eye sight. 

"No," she says. "I can just carry him in my jacket." 

I thought that wasn't a good idea and that he needed further hiding/protection from the elements. My mother is 5' tall and weighs 300lbs. As a result she walks with a cane, so I was skeptical about her taking him up the stairs, but for some reason, I agreed. Probably because I asked her if she would be able to manage it with her cane and she confirmed that she could.

So I let her go. I packed up my backpack, some work stuff from the night before, and Xavier's food and carrying cage.

When I got into my house, my mom was on the phone with her friend. I put everything away and began settling into my house when my mom announced that:

"Xavier was quite the pill to handle."

"Oh?" I said.

"He wiggled himself out of my arms and fell onto the ground."

"WHAT?" I asked. "What did you say?"

"He fell outta of my arms. It was an accident."

"WHAT???" I asked, tears forming in my eyes. "YOU DROPPED HIM?" My voice was escalated at this point.

"He wiggled out of my arms," my mom said. "There was nothing I could do."

"NOTHING YOU COULD DO?!?" I yelled. "YOU DROPPED XAVIER!!! How could you have done that? What if that was your grandchild?"

She continued defending it as an accident. That he wiggled his way out of the blanket I wrapped him up in and out of her arms.

I couldn't handle her excuse. I knew part of the reason my mom dropped him was/is she is so overweight she often can't see what's in front of her, can't move quickly, is completely oblivious to what's around her, and her reactions to situations are lackluster at best.

I just laid into her, yelling at her and crying my eyes out. I screamed at her things like 

"What if that was your grandchild?" Or "How could you have been so lazy? Why didn't you set him down?" Or "If you weren't 300 lbs you'd realize things like him slipping out of your arms and you would have just set him down." Or "you wouldn't need a cane at 62. Dad and Jacqueline are out skiing right now and you are so fat you can't even walk down a city block." 

I just couldn't believe how a one pound ferret could have manipulated his way out of a grasp of a grown woman.

I was so crushed. I didn't mean to be so harsh to her but her weight pays a toll on her daily life: she can't walk more than a block nor stand for more than 30 minutes nor lift anything nor move faster than a turtle at 62. She needs blood pressure meds every day. She drinks half a glass of water everyday and the rest of her nutritional intake is also very sketchy. It's upsetting to see my mom not only let herself go, but have her weight and poor choices potentially seriously injur or kill others. 

My mom lashed back at me saying I always freak out, lose my tempor, and mouth off to people and that is partly why I am alone. That my actions are what causes me to be so isolated in this life. That the things I say can be so hurtful that they push the people I love away.

So I guess I'm asking: 

at what point does something stop being considered an accident and become the responsibility of the person who made the action in the first place?

At what point do both my mother and I need to grow up in order to realize we are the ones to blame for many of the situations that arise in our lives?

I learned a lesson yesterday. Sometimes accidents are not accidents, but the result of carelessness. That doesn't mean that malicious intent was there. 

My therapist told me I cannot change other people that I can only change myself. Next time I'll be more careful as to not entrust my baby with others without fully examining the consequences.

And my mother is right: I need to cool down and think things through more before reacting and counter reacting. My mouth and actions have gotten me into trouble in the past. And it has isolated me from people.

I'm still really upset with her at the moment, but only I can change the way I feel.

Time will heal all wounds.

Thanksgiving /Therapy 7

Today is a day when most Americans are counting their blessings, spending time with family, celebrating the gift of life, and being grateful for all the many things/people we are blessed to have in our lives.

This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for a lot of things, especially after returning from Europe. 

I am so blessed to have my mother here in town to spend this day with me. She is my rock and I will love her always. I'm grateful to have a family that supports me and loves me unconditionally.

I am grateful to have the friends and support system I have in my life. I don't think I would still be alive today with out them.

Lastly, I'm thankful that I am an American living in the U.S. in 2013. I live in a country where more than 30% of our citizens can legally get married, despite your gender or sexual orientation. I live in a country that rallies together in support of our friend the Philippines. I live in a country where freedom of speech is not only celebrated, it is mandatory and a corner stone of out belief system. Finally, I live in a country where one can still be whatever one chooses to be.

(Map of states with marriage equality)

This Thanksgiving, I don't think I have ever been so proud to be an American. As a nation, we are not perfect, but we strive to give our citizens the best life that they choose to live.

I'm thankful for the life I have chosen for myself. In therapy, I realized that I am most happy being me, despite my shortcomings or idiosyncrasies. I'm thankful I was raised by such strong women in my life who always taught me to stand up for myself and that not being as strong physically didn't make me less than anyone.

Thank you to all my family and friends for helping contribute to my happiness. I will always be grateful. I will always be thankful to you for doing what you do best: being you!

From Russia with Hate

To LA with love...

After spending another layover in Moscow I can safely say I won't be going back to Mother Russia anytime soon.

They are just such miserable people. The sun didn't even come up until noon and set at 3 pm... No wonder they are so rude and awful.

Then I traveled nearly 9000 miles and 12 hours back home to le city of Angels.

The weather here is nearly 80 degrees and sunny as a baby's ass.

I had the trip of my life, but never have I ever been so grateful to be home back in LALALAnd where gay people can be free to be US. People. 

I sure did do a bathroom selfie Tilda Swinton pic in the bathroom of Moscow airport, tho. I wanted to leave the flag in an envelope addresses to Vladimir Putin, but I figured it totes woulda been discovered by the cleaning lady and wouldn't be understood as it woulda been written in English. Better safe, then sorry!

Anyways, here's a shot I took from the plane of my city. It ain't always pretty but Los Angeles is most certainly home for me. 

Eat. Gay. Love. A Roman Romance

Writing this from Moscow airport en route back to LA from Rome via Barcelona.

What can I say about Rome?

Such a beautiful city with beautiful, beautiful men! It's like a Gyllenhaulian wonderland with all the dark haired, light eyed hotties running around like Michaelangelo's David in heat.

It may have rained the whole time, but David, Derek, and myself had a bloody blast conquering Italia's capital city.

We saw more sights than I possibly could have imagined we would have. From the Pantheon to the Vatican, it really felt like we were on the Angels and Demons tour.

I had thought I would return to Paris and Berlin in the fall of 2014 with my mom, (She doesn't know this yet) but I might have to make the Italian capital a priority when I return.

I loved learning the language even when it was completely daunting. It just sounds so pretty. I had a hard time with some of those vowel mouth movements since I'm more Germanically inclined, but that didn't stop me from soaking it up like a sponge.

I really, truly enjoyed Italy. I had an excellent trip both there and in España. It was exactly what I needed: a little 

                 eat.gay.love.

(And yes: these are my favourite shoes that I ruined in the microwave. A small sacrifice to the gods of Roma for an extraordinary trip!):

#wheninRome

#ladolcevida

Koelen vs the Bidet

Yes this just happened. 

We all know that everyone poos, but not everyone has a fancy bidet laying around to clean their cornholio.

Just now I had my first experience and can I just say that I now feel clean as a button!

It was most certainly an interesting feeling at first, but when the water got warmer, it felt like a small bit of heaven between my cheeks!

Now I'm clean and ready to hit the streets of Roma on my last full day in Europa!

Gays, Trains, and Automobiles

Gays, Trains, and Automobiles

Last night, I couldn't find my ring. This isn't just any ring: this was the ring my mother bought me as a souvenir in Delphi, Greece. My mother and I traveled there on our first trip together in 2010 and after visiting the "center of the ancient  world" and getting our fortunes from the invisible Oracle, my mother bought me a ring to commemorate our experience and remember probably the best day on our trip.

The ring itself is significant: it depicts Athena, goddess of so much more than just her perceived stamp of being a deity of war. Athena was also the goddess of knowledge, a minor goddess of love, music, and one of the most beautiful goddesses to have ever lived. 

This ring represented several things to me: our trip, new experiences, my bond between my mother and I. I literally wear this ring almost everyday, so when I again couldn't find it today, I began to panic.

I literally tore the room I was staying in apart 839428496715 times. I took an extra hour and a half trying to find it, but couldn't.

On my way out the door to the airport I asked my host to send it to me if he found it, to which he agreed. But I was leaving Milano sans ring and with a heavy heart.

I knew I was late and scampered across the streets of Milan as quick as my hobbit legs could get me there. I first had to take the metro yellow line to Duomo, Milan's famous cathedral. 

Next I had to transfer to the red metro line. This involved me lugging my 60 lbs worth of luggage up to street level from the underground. Once I reached the Cadorna station, I then had to take the express train to Milano Malpenza airport.

THEN, I realized the train let out at terminal 1 and I needed terminal 2. I raced out of the terminal like I was in Home Alone 5. I saw a woman who looked as frantic as I, asked her if she wanted to share a cab, and we did. She was a lovely French woman living in Milan. 

At this point, my plane had already closed boarding and I only had 15 minutes before my flight. Upon hearing this, the French woman told me not to pay her for the taxi but to jump out of the cab as quick as we got there, haul ass to the ticket counter, and pray that I made my flight. I tried to give her money but she insisted. At least the can driver drove like a bat out of hell.

I ran as fast as I could. The entire trip there I knew my time was dwindling and I kept "secret"-ing that the flight would be delayed and that I would still make it.

I did not.

The boarding was closed and the plane was supposedly taxi-ing away when I got to the counter. I was told to go to another ticket counter where I would possibly be able to book a flight on a different airline. Apparently an airline strike had suspended any further flights on EasyJet for the night and up until the weekend. Not cute.

The guy behind the ticket counter informed me that the ticket on AirItalia would cost me €245. Or he suggested I check out the internet kiosk to check to see if there were any high speed trains going from Milano to Rome tonight.

Of course I paid to use the internet only to realize that I was unable to purchase same day tickets for the high speed train. No bene.

So here I sit, back on the express train BACK to Milan. At this point I have two options: I can either get to Centralle Station and buy a train ticket there or potentially wait until a 7 am flight tomorrow morning, pay €95 euro in transfer ticket fees, and take my chances that that EasyJet flight won't be cancelled due to the strike.

I choose option A. I'm wishing/hoping/praying on a star that there will still be tickets available tonight to get me to Rome that won't cost more than €95. Otherwise I'll be potentially staying with my hosts again tomorrow morning.

I just put my head against the seat and wanted to cry but I was too angry at myself. Had I not recklessly misplaced my ring then even more recklessly missed my flight, I would almost be in Rome by now...

Just now I reached into the side pocket of my backpack to grab my water bottle for a drink. Upon putting it back into the pocket, I looked down and guess what I saw?

There, clear as day in the pocket on the outside of my backpack that does close and is really more like a cup holder, was my bloody Athena ring!!!!

I just burst into tears. So little sleep, so many trains, so much stress, and then finally the relief of finding my ring was too much for me to handle.

I wonder why I even worried so much about a possession in the first place. 

At least for now, there's a glimmer of hope for me. Ticket or no ticket, I'm so grateful to have found my ring.

Hopefully I'll be able to get to Rome tonight, too!

My grandfather is dying

Greetings from Milano, Italia. I've just woken up for the day excited to see the city.

However, my father emailed me today some completely unsettling news: my step grandfather, the patriarch of our family and my last remaining grandparent, has dementia and is slipping fast. He will have to be placed in a nursing home soon as my step grandmother can no longer care for him. He isn't reading anymore. He doesn't play games any more. He even needs help doing ordinary things like getting dressed.

This saddens the hell out of me. This was the man who taught me to swim in our pool in my childhood home. This is the man who so often stood  by me when no other man in my life would. This is the man who, despite it all, said he was always proud of me and always loved me.

I never finished college and this is something that none of my family is proud of me for. I became an event planner 7 years ago and have been completely successful at living a full life and the life I choose to live. My lifestyle decisions have always been under scrutiny by my father and other family members because of me not completing my higher education.

As a result of me being gay and other things about my life that were perceived as "less than ideal", I became severely estranged from my family during the early part of this decade. I wasn't strong enough to stand up to my family and say: "This is the life I want! This is the life I chose, goddamnit!"

But I remember coming back home to Missouri one year- say maybe 2009?- after having lived in Australia, lived in Paris and London, and feeling like I had just gotten my feet settled into the event production world. 

I ended up getting into a huge fight with my father at Christmas that year that led to the two of us not speaking for nearly 2 years. I felt so isolated, afraid, and unable to escape a family who didn't respect me, my decisions, or the path I chose in life. I had never felt more like a black sheep in my life and all I wanted to do was book a ticket the fuck outta Missery as soon as I could.

But then something amazing happened: my grandfather (he may be a step- grandfather but he has been in the "grandpa" role all my life) came over to my aunt and uncle's house. He and I hadn't seen one another in many years. His eyes lightly filled with tears and he embraced me in one of the best hugs I've ever received.

He looked at me with excitement and longing like the two of us were long lost best friends who had a lifetime of catching up to do.

He wanted to know everything: who'd I met, where I'd been, the places I'd seen. He wanted to hear it all. 

And as I told him of my experiences, he just sat there listening, eyes widening at the juiciest bits, SMILING. He was so happy for me. He was so PROUD of me. And he told me so. 

"That's great mister! I'm so proud of you for all you've done in your life."

***

When I originally moved to LA, I wanted to be a movie star and screenwriter. I was moving to LA to make a name for myself. I never lost that longing of wanting to be something greater than myself, but I soon realized those things were not what was that important to me anymore. School became mundane and unimportant to me. So I never finished. I never became a movie star. I never became famous.

But I am doing what I want to do at this moment in my life. I've written a book and have become a bonified writer. I travel the world and make my own adventures. 

Because I realize that life is so fucking short. Losing my grandparents and a slew of other people in my life as an adult has taught me the values of life and the idea became instilled in me that I must and will live every day like it is my last.

My grandfather understands this. He never went to college, and though he valued education, he never judged me for not completing university. 

Probably because he saw in my eyes that Christmas in 2009 that I was LIVING. Not behind some office desk 9-5, but living a life that I chose. And he saw that I am happy living the life I want.

He saw that I didn't choose to take the road that everyone else took in life. Am I better than my parents and siblings? Absolutely not at all. My sister will always make more money than me and will probably never have to worry about job security. My brother's degree guarantees him job security as well.

I look at the decisions we all have made in life. I don't know that any of us are happier than the other. But I do know that my life will continue to be driven by a force of wanting to live life to the fullest.

My grandfather's life is one I choose to aspire to live like. He is in his late 80s and by most standards considered to be an old man, but he has lived such an extraordinary life surrounded by a family that loves him.

I'm at such a loss upon hearing that he is slipping away. All I can hope for is that he passes in peace  and with dignity. 

The lessons he taught me are lessons I will take to the grave. As a gay man who has always searched for a positive make role model in my life, I briefly forgot that I've had one all along. 

He will always be a hero to me. I'm just blessed to have known him and shared in some of his life.

Venice, Italy/ Therapy 6

 

What does one say about Venice? City of canals? Magic? Romance? A couple's love theme park? All of which perfectly describe this beautiful city.

I got so tired and lost today that I ended up coming back to my hotel and sleeping until 4 am. Not the best idea I've had, but sometimes you need to just sleep.

And here I lay in bed at 5 am in Italy trying to get back to bed. In therapy last week, one of the things my counselor said was you cannot always control what's going to happen in life and most certainly not the action of others.

Last week was the first time I had mentioned this blog to him and he seemed happy that I started it but also curious as to what I have written. I think I'm defiantly making "progress" with him and my therapy. I am the one who subjected myself to it because I want to heal my wounds and face demons I have stuffed into the back of my mind.

When I returned from Berlin in July, I fell into such a pit of depression that I'm only now digging myself out of. That's kind of what this trip has been about: facing my demons. 

I walked by the area in Barcelona where I was mugged 3 years ago. I wanted to make myself go to a place that so deeply ruined me at the time. 

And it was actually really beautiful because I'm in a new place. I feel like I faced a fear head on. Barcelona is in a new place. And life has gone on.

Italy has been an adventure already. Tomorrow I leave Venice and head to Milan for fashion, fags, and fabulousness in only the truest of Italian form. 

Maybe I'll get in a little retail therapy while I'm at it!

Strangers

Last night I met up with an Israeli here in Barcelona that I met on couchsurfing. He wanted to grab drinks so I suggested that we go to another guy I met on couchsurfing, a Spaniard's, house party.

When those two met, they initiated small talk and really only had being gay, couchsurfing, and knowing me for the 20 minutes that each had known me for in common. 

But when the Spaniard asked the Israeli where he worked, the two were startled and shocked to realize they work for the same Israeli company! The Israeli was already even set to go to the Spaniard's office on Monday for a work meeting!!!

Such a crazy small world! So in recap: these two had never met but were obviously meant to. How crazy small the world really must be to think of the odds that the house party I was bringing this Israeli to was being hosted by someone he would end up meeting 2 days later anyway?!

Love it. Reminds me of the fact that two of my high school class mates and I were all in Sydney all within 36 hours of one another! Considering that my high school graduated with 270 people in the middle of Missouri makes my head spin! 

From Russia with LUV.

 

 So my 22 hours in Moscow airport has almost come to an end. And I gotta tell you: I haven't been this excited to leave a country since George W Bush was first elected president...

   Moscow has been insane. It's the busiest airport in all of Europe, so the transit area literally never stops with the hustle and bustle.

  Not like it should be, but nothing here is in English. There are no ATMs here. So when my bank card didn't work at the capsule hotel, I tried to skype call my bank to no avail. I ended up sleeping on the ground all night with earplugs in my ears and the Russian equivelant of Siri making announcements every ten minutes LOUDLY over the intercom first in Russian, then in English. (Yes I know I shouldn't leave my children unattended, goddamnit!!! No, no one else packed my bags! Shit!!!)

  Through these announcements I've not only bore witness to Moscow's far reach around the world, but also how similar Ruskies are to us Yankees:

Observations of Russians:

    They all look like members of Michael Cera's family.

    It's the only European country that I've seen with the same size drinks like the big gulp as large as America's drinks.

    Their escalators are automatic- you walk up and they just start. Otherwise, they are just chillin and conserving energy. They also have vending machines with fresh fruit that mechanically squeeze fresh juice for you. Pretty sweet! Literally!

    They have no respect for lines- if you turn away for a second and the cashier said "next" then you just lost your place in line.

    They, like Americans, have no problem staring at you. So, yet again, I feel like a rockstar. I frequently walked around listening to "I'm gonna be a Supermodel" and Ke$ha songs to help give me some further pep in my gay strut.

    There's no vodka for sale anywhere but in the duty free area, where you have to buy it in liters. You can purchase airline sized bottles from duty free, but that's it. But the Russians have no problem drinking from said bottles in the open at 8 in the morning, though. Straight from the bottle...

    I read that bodily functions i.e. burping/ farting are considered very rude here. Yet none of them seem bothered by coughing and sneezing into the open air without even attempting to cover their mouths.

    Their government may be cracking down on gays but my grindr was clack-a-lacking with tons of chimes from Moscow-ian gays lookin to hook up with ol Special K here!

    And finally no wonder they all look so unhappy- the sun rises at noon and sets at 4 pm. Less than 4 hours of sun a day would do me in, too!!!

All in all my Ra-Ra-Rasputing in Russia's love machine of a capital city has been a wild adventure that I'm not likely to ever repeat again, but also not likely to forget. I do allow the Russians leeway because I would hate for anyone to compare Los Angeles or all Americans with how people act at Newark airport...

I think I've figured Russians out. On the outside, they are cold, wooden, round face, winter garbed, and fat like those Russian dolls that stack one inside the previous one: getting smaller and smaller as you open the next.

But once you crack open several of the layers of dolls and toss the halves aside, you are left with a single, little Russian figure: smiling back at you with hope and longing in its eyes.

Ah, Russia!

Dasvidanya, Moscow!!!

The Philippines and Veterans Day

Happy Veterans day to several of my friends and family members who have fought bravely over the years.

Every year at this time, it is always good to remember those who stood up for the democracy that holds all of our lives together. However this year, it is time to give BACK. Time to take the energy of thankfulness that so many people talk about on their facebooks and do something.



Last week, the Philippines were hit by the worst storm they have ever been hit by. Typhoon Haiyen literally destroyed good portions of the country and 10,000+ are feared dead. In an island nation of more than 1000 islands, apparently over 100 of those islands, like this one below, are currently gone forever. Wiped out by the typhoon.

As an angeleno, I have lots of Filipino brothers and sisters here living in Southern California. Maybe you didn't realize that Philippines were once a US territory and have been an ally of the US for over 100 years. I have further personal ties to this nation: My great grandfather was once the governor of the Philippines after WWII and this has become a favourite place for my brother to visit, partake in world frisbee tournaments, and scuba dive.

Either way, this country is devastated by this disaster and I'm asking if there is anything you can do to help. My friend is collecting anything you can possibly give, be it financially or tangible goods and will be sending aid back to his home town of Altavas in destroyed Aklan.

Here is his information:

Peej Celiz

reypjceliz@gmail.com

You can email him there for further instructions on how to help. Also www.redcross.org is taking donations at this time.

Please do what you can to help this beautiful island nation.

Legends of the Fall

I heart the fall. It's jacket season!

Life Can Change in a Blink of an Eye

When that Roberta Black chick wrote that song "Friday", I think she seriously missed the mark. The only reason why everyone likes the day Friday is because it is the last day of the work week before the weekend. "Week-end? What is a Week-end?" Even the Dowager Countess knows that Saturday is where it's at!

Today I am fortunate enough that I have to work all day instead of spending my day outside in the beautiful Southern California sun. I don't mind too much- I need money for my upcoming trip to Europe next week.

I am hoping I get out in enough time to attend my friend Abid's birthday. He turned 32 yesterday and, like any event in my friends' lives, his birthday has made me reflect on my life and what I'm doing with it. After watching BRIDEGROOM I really want to start living a happier life.

I am noticing my therapy helping in that aspect. Helping me work through my problems and the issues that bother me. One issue I struggle with is men. I always seem to be the Robyn of the group-

"I'm right over here...why can't you see me? Oh oh oh..."

I met a guy over Halloween weekend who seemed into me. We were flirting and chatting it up. I asked him if he wanted my number. We put each other's numbers in our respective phones and begin flirty text. My ass/pocket even accidentally facetime called him the night I met him. Texting lead to sexting and we were just going back and forth for almost a week. Then he went to Mexico for a week and now he won't talk to me.

I tried to play Kool Koelen and assertively say "We should go hiking. When are you free?" And now nothing. In my head, I over analyze everything. I'm thinking a million thoughts about why he is now giving me radio silence. I think:

I'm not cute enough. I'm not hot enough. Buff enough. Masculine Enough. Too Short. Too fat.

TOO FUCKING HARD ON MYSELF

In reality, this guy probably either met someone else of has issues of his own preventing him from texting me back. Or maybe he just isn't enough of a man to have the courtesy to let me off easy. Maybe he is really going through some hard times. (Which i doubt considering he text me that he is having a great week)

All I know is the day he left for Mexico I basically text him "bon Voyage" and heard nothing back from him until I messaged him days after he was back from Puerto Vallarta. After that, his responses were meager at best.

I'm realizing that the old saying is true: you cannot look for love. It needs to find you.

Well, I'm done with looking for love. But I'm also open to the possibility of meeting someone to love and share my heart with.


At this point in my life, as a 31 and a half year old, that is what I want. To meet someone to stand still with for a while.

BRIDEGROOM /Therapy 5

Today was my 5th day/week of counseling and I felt it was my best session yet. Maybe because I had just come from a gorgeous nap after a nice day of work. Maybe it was the new 1800 bedsheet set I got. Most likely, I'm still living off the high from Illinois legalizing marriage equality yesterday.

I talked a great deal about my advocacy and activism in therapy tonight. I can admit that I put my efforts into causes that most effect me in some way or another. With lgbt rights, I stand up for what I believe is right: no one should be treated differently because of who they are. I grew up in a hometown that wasn't very accepting of gay people. If my efforts in Illinois or New Jersey or Minnesota help out even one gay kid who feels like they are lesser than realize they are beautiful, then I feel I have succeeded.

My therapist (sounding so L.A. when I say that) said that that kind of fire and enthusiasm might be something I want to direct energy towards in a different way. I couldn't agree more. I've always had a fire in my belly that is most happy when lit and lighting up the town!

I came home tonight and watched Bridegroom. I found it to be very emotional, heartbreaking, and yet so very real. Their love story is timeless and their end tragic. I highly recommend seeing this film. I could see it taking the Oscar for best documentary. Not that The Academy knows what they are doing anymore; however, this film is truly moving and depicts exactly what love is: beautiful. Pain. Joy. Happiness. And worthy of celebrating.

Kick starter funded with mostly real footage of their beautiful relationship, this movie will haunt you for a while. Can't recommend it more. Maybe if more people saw Shane and Tom's story it would bring further light to the fact that gay/lbt people are just people too.

  Tom Bridegroom was born 6 days after me in 1982. His story is not one I'll ever forget.

RIP

(If you don't know their story, go to YouTube and search for  the video        "IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU")

#onepersonCANmakeadifference

We just won marriage equality in the state of Illinois!!!! #15th state in the Union to pass full marriage equality!

I worked tirelessly for the last 6 months doing everything I could to bring about the passage of this law. From 1700 miles away, I called every representative in Illinois' House. I tweeted everyone of them. Liked them on Facebook. Emailed them. Pleaded with them. Spoke with them directly. I called and called and called. I posted pictures and updates as much as I could. And we won. We just won equality with a 61-54 vote.

So today is a victory for not just me, but all of us. In 2013 it is hard to believe that a single person in America's voice still matters. That a single person can actually make a difference. Well, I worked my ass off and proved exactly that.

Congratulations Illinois and America. This country has now well surpassed more than 1/3 of its citizens living in states with Marriage Equality.

#Illinois #15

Call me, maybe?

Good evening Angelenos and world-

I hope this finds you well. It's fall here in North America, and in the City of Angels, that can only mean one thing: love is in the air. Though spring is typically the time of LOVE for most around the world, Los Angeles really has no spring. Palm trees don't die off during the winter and then return in beautiful shades in the spring. The re-birthing time of year for us Southern Californians is the fall. Therefore it's my theory that the one time of year Los Angelenos really seek out love is right before the holiday season.

You see, none of us are originally from Los Angeles, so the 'homesick ping' really hits us hard post Halloween. We seek out love and affection and some kind of solidarity with friends and loved ones because we feel a lack of family around us. Thanksgiving will soon be upon us, and those of us in LA that know what it's like to spend a holiday here alone know what true solitude really feels like. It's this time of year that I truly do wish I had a partner- if nothing else but to give gifts to and bitch about how overrated and annoying Christmas can be.

November is also the month that Los Angeles finally experiences a sense of a season change. Leaves are falling in Hancock Park and Bel Air. The cold wind at night seems to last longer than the 80 degrees during the day. I, for one, wish I was spending the nights at this time of year cuddling up with someone to keep warm in this bitterly freezing, 63 degree fahrenheit chill. Or maybe just a nice Santa Ana to warm everything up?

It's a cold night, LA. So if that special someone is out there, you know what to do.


Pick up the phone and

Nitemares and Dreamskapes

Hey people of the page-

Sorry I have been away, but with my absence can you only assume that I had an extraordinary Halloween weekend!

I woke up this morning after a very emotional night's sleep. I had several dreams in which my father and mother were abandoning me in my childhood. I would have rare moments of clarity and then my dreams would flash me forward into High School. Or even one of my trips to Costa Rica with my mom. Where ever and whenever I was, I couldn't help but feel this extreme sense of abandonment.

One concept from my dreams really stuck out to me: I've never had a man really want to be a role model for me. I've never had a male figure in my life that loved me so unconditionally that they only wanted the best for me. Kind of like a father who always stood by my side. A lot of guys have had that. And I never did. Not in this life or my dreams. Women have always filled that role, even though women could never completely relate to what I was going through.

These dreams and this self realization this morning reminded me of a passage out of my story "BOYS" from my upcoming book Dancing in My Underwear:

I never really had a male role model growing up that I loved, respected, and wanted to emulate in their mannerisms and the way they carried themselves as men. I've always loved men, and for as long as I can remember, I have always been attracted to men.

As far as learning how to act and become a man- I did what I had to do: I taught myself. I learned in middle school when people openly started harassing me about my homosexuality that I had to change: I had to assimilate in order to survive. I mimicked the boys in school and the actors in movies. I tried dating girls and tried wearing the cool clothes so that people would respect me and not call me the names that they were calling me behind my back and to my face. I ended up becoming very independent and very defiant. I went from being an overly confident kid to a depressed little boy who just wanted a male figure in my life to kick the shit outta anyone who said anything about me.

I go on in "BOYS" to begin to realize that my lack of a male role model/figure in my life has lead me to constantly seek out that type of person in the men I date. Always looking for someone who will dote on me like a father and love me like a father. The truth is, that isn't what I want at all. In reality I don't want a father figure, but a lover and partner, in a relationship. I would never want to date someone who acted like a father to me, either. I want both a partner and someone else who will be a role model. Someone I can look up to and respect. Someone that respects me back just as much.

Having a male in my life who acted like a role model but that didn't want to sleep with me would be great. But at this point in my life, as a 31 year old, I question who that could or would be. I've never had anyone like that in my life who was on Team Koelen since day one.

Other than myself. And I'm just grateful I'm along for the ride.