Category: history

Better

Today is the anniversary of my almost suicide over 20 years ago. Well it’s actually the day I chose to remember it. I never remembered the actual day but it was late April/early May. When I started looking back on it I decided to make May 1st the day to remember. Anyway, I’m glad I didn’t take the final step. Even though life wasn’t perfectly rosy afterwards, there was so much I would have missed out on. It really did get better for me.

To say it was a dark time in my life would be an understatement. I’m always grateful and humbled by the memory. I always seem to get a bit moody around the time of year w/o evening realizing it. I don’t know if it’s some sort of internal trauma clock going off or just my brain’s funny way of dealing with it. Regardless, I had a bit of a rough day today. Nothing bad, I just was overcome with the memories. The pain has dulled over time but the reasons behind it are still fresh in my mind. I always try to forget the pain. I don’t want to remember the anguish that poisoned my soul. No one should ever have to go thru that. Instead I focus on the singular moment when it all changed. When I was overcome with the pure indescribable joy that flooded my soul. I’ve always said, I touched the divine that day. Not the made-up hypocritical faux God taught in le Bible but the real thing. I didn’t find it by looking out but within. I found it deep within me. It was there all that time just waiting for me to touch it. And when I did make contact for only the briefest of moments, it was truly indescribable. There are no words for the lightning bolt of joy that was given to me in that singular moment. It washed away the sorrow, the pain, and the hopelessness. Don’t misunderstand, it didn’t ‘fix’ me. But it washed away the poison that threatened to kill me. To this day the joy is still with me. I wake up every day to that little spark that still resides in my soul. It gives me purpose and reason to continue. It drives me to push past the pain and disappointments of life. It teaches me the struggle to be better is the point.

Some might consider it odd to mark the anniversary of such a traumatic event but I don’t. It reminds me of not only where I came from but how far I’ve come. My life then and now are polar opposites in many many ways. I am not that naive abandoned little boy anymore. I grew into a man that I am proud to be. And while there is always room for improvement, the marker serves to give me renewed hope every year of my life.

Perceive

It’s funny how some things strike a chord with people. My recent “strange” post seemed to resonate with more than a few of my readers. My friend B from Houston reached out to me to tell me how much he admired how honest I was. I was really taken with his email and warm emotion. I knew B back when I was living out of my car, working three jobs, including the tubs on weekends. He was always kind to me when I was working the tubs. He never looked down at me, belittled my work, or treated me in any way poorly. Don’t get me wrong, I knew my job wasn’t glamorous. And while I certainly didn’t brag, I never hid the fact. It was an honest living and it helped me get back on my feet. I have no problem admitting, then or now, that I worked in a bath house. Anyway, B and I stayed in contact over the years. Being a lover of bullies himself, he reached out to me when Spike passed. It meant so much to me that he did that.  His kudos to me in his email was a wonderful affirmation and I greatly appreciated it.

My buddy B [1]Same letter, different person from Colorado then reached out to me not even 24 hours later laughing about times we spent hanging out at “Cheesy-man” park on weekends. I used to drive down from Boulder and go rollerblading in the park. B was always cruising for a boy. He was also a very nice guy. He handled my polite rejection and built on it. We ended up being friends. He was also really touched by my post and reached out to me. His take was a tad different in that he loved that I’m always so direct. He loved to hear that I was still the same old ‘me’ all these years later.

When I wrote that post it was a total whim about a random yet humorous experience in my day to day life. I didn’t see it as anything significantly meaningful. But looking back on it I can see where some of the deeper meanings apply. I guess it’s a good sign that effective habits I struggled to have as a young man have taken root and become engrained. In my rambling I missed the significance of not letting someone else’s jaded behavior effect my own.

I confided in both B’s that I was tickled at how they perceived my post. They both found it very moving in their own way and I was just sharing my humor in it. As I told them both, I no longer question the idea of whether to post an idea here. Some things that I think will be revealing or insightful barely make a blip. Then something random like this really speaks to my readers. At the end of the day I just blog. If it strikes my fancy in it goes! The reasoning behind that is simple. I share because I can and because I never had anyone to share my struggles with as a kid. There were no blogs, no support groups, no internet, nada. Just knowing I wasn’t alone in my struggles would have made the pain so much more bearable for me back then. So yes, I do share in the hopes that my life stories will inspire, assure, or all around help others realize they are not alone.

As I am very fond of saying, hope springs eternal…

References

References
↑1 Same letter, different person

Profile

I was cleaning some really old files off my webserver the other day and I stumbled upon an edit file of old profile info I used to post on AOL. [1]That’s America Online for all you youngin’s out there.   I had a habit of saving my profile descriptions. I’d often just copy/paste the same profile info as necessary across different sites. Anyway, I was a little disappointed after perusing some of the content. I had forgotten some of the disrespectful things I used to put in my profiles. Granted, I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful but that really isn’t the point. Intentional or not, referring to a whole race of people as being off-limits is offensive. The same goes for “not fats, no fems, etc.”

While I did eventually see the error of my ways, I’m sad to say many have not. You only need peruse pretty much any online social site to see guys posting the same type of comments. And don’t even get me started on the over-use of ‘masculine-only.‘ That is a rant all to itself. We’ll save it for a rainy day.

Anyway, whether you intend it or not, it is offensive to put such things in a profile. I’ve probably ranted on this subject before but it bears repeating. Instead of telling the world what you’re not into, focus on what you are into and keep it positive. Leave out the negative comments as it only serves to make you look like an ass. And it often makes you less appealing to prospective suitors. After all, the old saying goes ‘you catch more flies with honey...’

*

After I wrote this I found the original post on the subject. How funny I gave it the same title. I guess my mind still thinks the same way.

References

References
↑1 That’s America Online for all you youngin’s out there.

After

Well the big festival / mess that is Christmas is over. Now we can all turn our gaze to the coming new year.

A special thank you to everyone who sent me cards this year. I easily got more cards than I sent. And while I don’t send my cards expecting one in return, it was so very sweet getting all the nice cards. Hell, I didn’t even know some of you had my mailing address. [1]Stalkers! lol  I probably say this every year but it really meant a lot to me. It was just me and Cooper this year and I was afraid I’d end feeling lonely. I didn’t at all. I’ve actually been in great spirits the whole time. Nonetheless, it was still very comforting having so many of my friends and readers reach out to me. You guys are awesome.

On  a side rant, several of my friends don’t get why I spend so much time on cards vs the actual holiday. Well, the holiday itself has become an over-hyped consumer event for one. I also don’t celebrate “christian” faith so I honestly don’t get much from the day itself. Doing my cards is more fun. It’s a big process for me. I often will buy 5-10 different packs of cards at a time. [2]Even though, I chose to use up all my leftovers this year. If you got the same one twice, apologies.  As I go thru each person on the list, I reflect on how I know the person. For my blog readers, I use this time to purge all my blog emails for the year. But before I do, I pull up my comment emails and sort by users so I can review all their feedback. It makes me feel closer to the person. Of course, the wax seals are a blast. It’s probably one of the few old traditions I embrace. There may come a day when we no longer send snail mail but until then, I’ll keep doing it.

As I move into year 9 of the blog, I’m so very grateful for all the advice, feedback, support, comments, and even differences of opinion you all have given me. This blog represents an important chronicle of my growth. It not only covers my life over the last 8 years but also my life in general and my growth into manhood. I honestly don’t think I’d be the person I am now w/o having done this blog. It has helped me (and others I’m told) in so many ways I’ve lost count.

Here’s to year 9 being a good one! My number chart says this is supposed to be a good year for me. I don’t put a lot of stock in it but here’s hoping it’s right! I could certainly use a good year. So from the bottom of my heart, I offer you all a huge thank you. Cooper and I wish you a very prosperous and happy year ahead!

~ Moby

References

References
↑1 Stalkers! lol
↑2 Even though, I chose to use up all my leftovers this year. If you got the same one twice, apologies.

Secrets

I’m always amazed at some of the questions I get. Not because of content but the point of view. It gives me perspective outside of my own, which is always beneficial. It also helps me to learn about myself. Something I’ve always strived to do writing this here blog thingy. One such reader was perplexed by my Flip rant because I called it a secret. I guess maybe I should clarify. It wasn’t so much a secret as something I wasn’t overly proud of. ‘Lemme es’plain…’ lol

When I was younger, I was train wreck emotionally. I was very co-dependent, insecure blah, blah, blah…you get the point. [1]A very few of you have been with me since then and probably remember my rants on the subject  One of my biggest regrets was in my ongoing battle with said issues, I hurt more than one person. The fact that it was never intentional is irrelevant. I had a horrible habit of pursuing someone romantically w/o ever really deciding if the person was right for me. After the newness wore off and the drama set in, I would usually just break up with the person and move on. Saying it now sounds very callous and uncaring but I assure you that was never my intention.

My coping mechanism, meant to protect me, ended up doing to others what I was desperately afraid would be done to me. I ranted on it a lot on the old blog after Drew and I split way back when. I think I mentioned back then one particular guy I dated while still in Houston was a wake up call for me. I hurt him pretty badly. I always felt my breakup with Drew was my karma for him. I did get a chance to apologize to the guy years later and he was receptive to my apology.

So yeah, I felt a little ashamed to admit it out loud because I had recognized my top/bottom complex tied into my previous behavior of inadvertently misleading guys. I’m not ashamed as much as just disappointed in myself. The good news here is I have embraced who I am and more of what makes me really happy, physically and emotionally.

So there you go dear reader. Hopefully that explains it now.

🙂

 

References

References
↑1 A very few of you have been with me since then and probably remember my rants on the subject

Flip

My reader ingvisson made a very astute comment on my previous dating rant about my position of preference. He’s been reading long enough to remember a private rant I once made about my preferences. The specific rant was from 5 or 6 years ago and went like this, “from a mechanical or physical point of view, I prefer to top…That said, I think I make a better bottom.” The original rant was when I first opened the private section of my blog, which deals w/more carnal discussions. I’d forgotten I’d even mentioned it. But as I went back and read it I was struck at how I phrased it.

For a long time I called myself a bottom because I didn’t feel like I measured up. My own view of masculinity, manliness, prowess, etc was all tied to my warped view of what a man was. I had a hard time imagining or seeing myself as that type of man, so I figured my role was to be a bottom. The irony was moving to SF helped me grow out of the insecurities I had over it. Even though I usually had more fun being the top, because of my own self-image/esteem issues, I never could identify accordingly. One might say I was a closeted top? lolol Funny, but true. The bottom to top ratio here is significantly high and if I wanted to get laid, I had to top more. Supply & demand at it’s finest, eh? Anyway, as I began to top more I realized I actually preferred it. Between the extra practice and my maturing ideas I no longer felt like I didn’t measure up. It’s weird how we can compartmentalize internal issues and not see them objectively. Something that is so clear to me now was completely beyond me at the time. [1]Score another reason why I am happy I continue to blog

I used to say it was easier being a bottom but that’s not exactly true. It’s easy being a top. And while being a good top takes some skill, it takes a lot more effort, patience, flexibility, [2]in more ways than one lol and endurance to be a good bottom. I like to think when I did bottom I was good at it. Or at least I was told I was. Top or bottom, my energy is always the same so I do think I was good at it. 🙂 Regardless of position, be it comfort, pleasure, and/or choice, neither is a reflection on anyone’s manliness. Anyone who thinks such stupid ideas needs therapy.

True story, I’ve had more than one guy dump me because I didn’t put out enough, as the bottom. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of because, intentional or not, I misled people. One guy really read me the riot act and called me a tease. It was after him that I began to realize I was no longer worried about not being manly enough. Some of you long time readers will remember my experiment w/role playing and the boy from LA. After him, I knew that I no longer had to be anything I didn’t want to be. If I wanted to be a bottom, I could be. If I wanted to be a top, I could be. And be it lack of practice, my new-found confidence, aging, or all of the above, I don’t seem to enjoy bottoming much anymore. Oh, there are moments. hehehe The point I’m making is I still consider myself versatile to a degree. If I meet someone who likes to top as much as I do, I’ll make the effort. It may take some practice but I’m sure I could do it again.

So now you know one of my last big secrets. There isn’t many things that you few long termers don’t know about me know. lol

References

References
↑1 Score another reason why I am happy I continue to blog
↑2 in more ways than one lol

Change

Ever have one of those odd moments where you flash back to time in your past w/o any real explanation?

I was standing in my bathroom this morning and had an abrupt flash of a time when I was growing up and still at home in East, TX. I was overcome with a sense of being in two places at once. It was almost as if I could see both scenes overlayed on top of each other. I have no idea what sparked it but it was a bit jarring.

I started thinking about how much my life has changed since then and how very different I live. While I’m by no means wealthy, I lived very different back then. And while there were times I went w/o things I wanted, I can’t remember many times of going w/o things I needed. I grew up very poor in the boonies of East TX. My family moved from Louisiana to Texas when I was young. They actually moved from a small town to an even smaller & very remote town. lol

Looking back at the memory, it felt foreign. I probably don’t need to say my home was very cluttered and somewhat disheveled. lol I’m not making fun just stating fact. I didn’t know any better at time. I thought everyone lived the way we did. My parents weren’t hoarders but they tended to keep a lot of unnecessary stuff. I guess this might be part of how different the memory felt.

It’s funny how life changes around us and we sort of forget how different things can be. People to this day still don’t always believe me when I explain how I grew up. I admit, it sounds almost alien. It was like one step above the TV show, The Beverly Hillbillies. [1]prior to their getting rich. lol People still laugh when I tell them we had a washing machine with a crank. We had an outhouse at one time. We had a “frigadere” specifically for fresh kill before it was skinned and cut up for sale or food. (It sat on the back porch) Our a/c was a giant industrial fan mounted in the ceiling. Our heater was a wood burning stove. We never had cable. We didn’t have a phone. [2]My parents got one at some point after my 18th birthday but before my 22nd one. I had been long gone from home before then. Our water was a self-drilled well. The only thing we got from the city was electricity. And that went out every time a thunderstorm came thru, which was often. We grew our own vegetables and slaughtered our own meat. We only bought things we couldn’t readily produce (or didn’t want to). Before my foster mom died, she even made all of our clothes. For me, it was my way of life. I didn’t know different until I got older and discovered people lived in different ways. Not everyone had a separate fridge just for hunting. lol Nor did everyone have their own personal little bear logo stitched on their clothes. (My mom had a logo for each of us.)

I look at my life now and then and it’s literally like two different people. Many of the modern coveniences I’ve come to take for granted were unheard of back then. I mean how did I live before the internet, Google, Netflix, email, smartphones, etc!? Ironically, we did live and we did ok. In some ways, I think it made me more well-rounded. I can say for sure it makes me appreciate the things I do have today more.

References

References
↑1 prior to their getting rich. lol
↑2 My parents got one at some point after my 18th birthday but before my 22nd one. I had been long gone from home before then.

Think

Someone emailed me awhile back asking what I thought my foster mom would have thought of me being gay.

The truth is I don’t know. My foster mom died when I was young and I hadn’t reached a point where I could articulate what was different about myself. I’d hope that she would have been more accepting than my dad was. Granted, my step-mother had a huge part in his eventual explosion over it but still. I’d hope that she would have accepted me even if she didn’t understand.

I’d like to think that, like me, she figured out pretty quickly I was different. Maybe not on a conscious level but mothers are often more attune to such things. Even as I child, I knew something was up, just not what. Spending a lot of time with me, I’d assume she had a clue. Having never known my mom in an adult capacity, I have no idea what her feelings on the matter were. I can’t for the life of me ever remember her using the F word. That could just be I was too young and the memory didn’t stick or it could be that she just didn’t use it. I only remember her thru a child’s eyes and that is a very different view. I don’t remember her ever really disparaging anyone, which gives me hope she would have been more understanding. While I was her only adopted child, she never treated me differently. And if she did know, it never showed.

So dear reader, I don’t know the answer to your question but I am optimistic about it.

Casa

Jimbo was doing updates recently on the many places he has lived all over DC. It got me to thinking about all the places I’ve lived in SF. It was certainly a bit of a roller-coaster ride the first few years. I finally settled at my current place but not before some interesting bounces.

Upon moving here I stayed with a friend in the SOMA [1]south of Market area for the first couple months. He had a small 1 bedroom live/work space. I got a birds-eye view of what some of the seedier areas of the city were like back then. Anyway, after the first month we kinda got on each others nerves a bit being in such a tiny space. He stuck by me though. I tend to land on my feet so it wasn’t long before I’d found a new place.

I found my 2nd place based on a referral from a friend of a friend sort of thing. It was in the Duboce Park area which is close to the Castro. It is a very pretty and enjoyable neighborhood. It was half a block from the park, and much like my current place, walking distance to virtually everything. Sadly, my housemate was a bit cray-cray. Seriously, unknown to just about everyone he had started succumbing to AIDS-related dementia and would forget whole conversations. He would often go on and on about drama with previous roommates and how hard it was for him to get them out. I’d made it clear if things didn’t work out he wouldn’t have to fight with me to go, I’d just go. He would of course forget all of that and start over the next month. While the place itself was nice and convenient, I couldn’t handle the weekly episodes. Not to mention, the rent seemed to be a different price every month. Ironically, he insisted on paying me to move out. lol It worked in my favor as money was tight and his contribution covered my deposit for the new place.

Making a jump, I landed out in the Sunset which is as close to suburbia as SF can possibly get. I was close to the beach but that side of the city tends to stay foggy a lot. With the fog came the chill too. At that time I still had my scooter and driving over Twin Peaks at night was a chilling experience. I lived in the garage apt of a house being rented out by a very nice straight couple. The rent was good and the roommates were great. I just hated living so far out and the chill was miserable. After about 8 months I opted to move inwards again.

Making another jump, I landed just on the edge of the Tenderloin very close to work. I lived in a high-rise building. It was ok for the price. The amenities were nice, especially the jacuzzi! I still miss having that hot steaming jacuzzi to come home to at night. lol I could also walk to/from work as well. Not being rent-controlled, eventually the price got to be a bit much.

It’s at this point I had a very short stay in a coworkers vacant house. He practically begged me to move in. Unfortunately, the day I moved, he decided to change all the rules and ask for a ton more money than we had agreed. While I could have fought it and stayed, I bounced back to the high-rise building for awhile, albeit a different apt.

I then found my current place thru a blog buddy. While not perfect, it’s pretty damn close. I’m close to the hood, walking distance to most everything I need and live on a quiet street. I’ve been in my current place for over 6 years now. If it were just a tad bigger, I would consider it perfect. I get along with all my neighbors. [2]even the russians with the screaming baby I’m still close to a big park and there is also a nice dog park for Cooper just a few blocks away as well.

Overall, I consider myself very lucky. Housing in SF can be a real pain. The rents and the demand are high so this creates a variety of problems. You could show up to an open house and easily find 20-30 other people vying for the same place. You can also find yourself in bidding wars if you are dead set on a certain place. I’ve been lucky enough to avoid all that. I found a great place, my rent isn’t bad considering the market rates. My landlord is a pretty good guy too. Short of someday buying my own place or leaving SF, I probably won’t move again. Once you find a good place you hold on to it!

References

References
↑1 south of Market area
↑2 even the russians with the screaming baby

Change

I was looking back over my archives the other day and I was struck by how many bloggers have come and gone in the last 10 years. I miss reading their blog updates. It was a fun & new way to express yourself. And with sites like Blogger, WordPress, LiveJournal, Typepad, etc it was easy. For me, it was a natural transition from my attempts at keeping written journals to online. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone. One, I could teach myself to be more introspective and two, share my experiences with others.

I know many have succumbed to the pull of Facebook, twitter, etc. I can’t blame them but I find I use FB less and less every day. I’d abandon completely if I could. Every time a new funny saying or fake smart-ass gift card comes out, my stream is overwhelmed with it. No thanks. I still like twitter and Google+ but even they don’t really seem to hold my attentions much. Primarily, it becomes information overload. Important or significant details get lost in the minutia. I’ve been really slow to build circles on Google+ to avoid this. Granted, it keeps my stream pretty bare but thats ok.

Looking back, I got tickled at how often I blogged about absolutely nothing. I’d just sit down and ramble about nothing and make a whole post out it. lolol These days I tend to blog more when I have something to say. I still try to do daily journals to myself but I keep those private as not to overwhelm my subscriber base. I had tried just posting frivolous stuff via FB and Foursquare but I got bored with that too. Honestly, no one cares how many days I go to the gym, what I had for breakfast, what color my last bowel movement was, [1]TMI? lolol etc.

So I find myself coming back to my blog more and more these days instead. This way I can focus on what I really want to share. It may not always be overly important but that’s ok too. I figure if you really wanna know what I’m doing you’ll check here. I always seem happier when I’m blogging.

🙂

References

References
↑1 TMI? lolol