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I'm crying right now, and I don't know completely why... actually, that's not true. I do know, but it's best for a whole other entry.
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(The following statement was originally posted earlier today on the "Gay Men with Depression" tribe on Tribe as an answer to the question "What's so gay about depression?" - however, I decided to repost it here...)

In my case, it's these dueling feelings - that society sees me, "young and black and fine and gay" (to quote Audre Lorde), as a (varying degrees of) "valuable pelt"; but also that I have a cultural legacy/legacies that seem to have some social/commercial cachet that the larger culture wants little bits and pieces of. On top of that, I still have to try to live my own life, with all of the experiences (positive and negative) therein, within a society that has always preferred conformity to a strong degree despite platitudes and national constitutions claiming "freedom of..." or "freedom to..."

Everytime I have turned around, I get told or shown that my thoughts, my life, and my love of peace and comfort - and my feeling that others are entitled to the same - are less popular than I think it should be in this society that "liberty and justice" are supposed to be (on paper, at least) the bases of... and that lacking is something I take personally, maybe more than I probably should, to the point of letting it severely compromise the good relationships in my life - including the intimate ones with those men who love me and whom I should be loving as fully as I can in return.

Then again, not having been exposed to a sufficient amount of loving relationships in my much younger years (let alone loving relationshps involving someone of the same gender) and being overexposed to a lot of drama-bearing relationships that were less than healthy, how would I even know that you're supposed to REGULARLY do more than just say you love 'em and break off some dick-ass action every now and then? Of course, all that does is spread the bad feelings around, having the other partner(-s) wondering where things went wrong, if they were ever right to begin with.
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Reality... it escapes me much more often than I seem to be able to escape it.
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I understand that the forces of nature are as unpredictable as they come, but I still find remarkable all of the missteps in infrastructure planning that occurred that (akin to dominoes or something similar) landed on the people of the Gulf South region last week when Hurricane Katrina and subsequent flooding tore through. I am also disturbed by having to watch this turn into an opportunity to bash (mostly) poor, (mostly) brown-to-blue-black folks who had not much to begin with, and are now refugees within their own nation, for lack of a more adequate term.

I am also annoyed by the fact that my boyfriend has started every morning of this holiday weekend by breaking all his New Orleans music and putting it on blast when (for once) I wanted some peace and quiet after a week of media-induced noise pollution that has clearly affected my brain somehow. I love this music, but right now I'd rather hear nothing at all (especially since it only makes me think of all the New Orleans musicians whose homes and favored venues are now trashed for all time!).

If he's trying to even the score before football season hits full stride (and I'm sure to have game after game after game on blast on more than a few weekends), he has succeeded.


P.S. J-E-T-S, JETS, JETS, JETS!!!!
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In the middle of cleaning out my car before I drop it off at the mechanic.The kind, gentle part ends here... )
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I spent last night pondering adulthood - I do it every time a discussion comes up of an issue that raises my anxiety level slightly. In this case, John (my primary/live-in boyfriend) tells me he has registered for a training session in our district on the marriage amendment that our state legislators (ASSHOLES!) were among the first signators to.

I always figured that being queer meant I was better (by a large amount) than marriage - that shit is for other people who just have to make babies and try to do the house/two kids/garage act. Now that 30 has come and gone and 35 is about to crash into me, I'm faced with a serious realization: I'm part of this world, and I've got to think about what I would want if I weren't able to be nearly as independent as I am - nearly as prone to "Peter Pan syndrome."

More than a few people (boyfriends included) have also pointed out to me that I might do well to file away those downright negative opinions of marriage (that I developed during a childhood spent watching my parents shout at each other from afar) in order to help the greater good. They all make a valid point. I'm just afraid that, if I do that, then I risk falling in with every gay couple who's ever tried to send my blood sugar through the roof by talking about rings, ceremonies, and sticking together for life. Am I ready to do that with ANYBODY?

Oh, well. Another day of work looms...

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