I Only Contributed to History is All

I don't know what the big deal is. All I did was pop my voting-cherry by electing the first African-American president in American history. It's not like I contributed in a milestone event that would redirect the country's perception of what America is.

Profeshunnul

There is no real dress code for my job, but I like that I get the chance to wear slacks, long sleeves and dress shoes, which is totally appropriate for my job. I dress as if I know what I'm doing. There's a strong correlation between having nice attire and being smart, apparently. My clients think I know it all, so I must know it all -- or at least I should.

Let's Talk Business

I'm happy to announce that I've received my business license. It has to be the best business name in the world; Douglas *CENSOR* is pretty catchy. Really loving my job. I hope all's well with everyone in the blogosphere. I'll be in the Flickrsphere if you need me.

Putting it Out on the Table

I wasn't completely truthful with my mother when I came out to her just a couple of days ago. She asked if Mike was my boyfriend, and I said no. That was bothering me, as I feel like I'm in a position where I need to tell her the truth.

She came home from another 16-hour shift, tired, as usual. I asked her if I could talk to her, to talk about me. I shouldn't have asked; her work has drained a lot of energy from her, and I think the last thing she wanted to hear was my gay lifestyle.

"Ay! I don't know; I'm tired." I understood. I went to bed. After a long day of work, she always sits on the couch in the living room with her rosary, praying. I know she prays for the best for her family, especially when it comes to monetary terms. After coming out to her, I knew she added an extra prayer to her list of "good intentions."

Several minutes later while I tried to go to sleep, she walked into my room, making sure that I gargled with warm water and salt (I've had a sore throat for the past few days). She kissed me, and I said I loved her.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"I just felt like I've lied to you."

"Put on your t-shirt." She walked into the living room, and I followed her as I put on my shirt. She asked what I was lying about. I told her that I'm not doing anything wrong; that I'm doing really well in life, like getting good grades in school and keeping myself busy with work. I worked to make her proud, but most of all happy, knowing that she has a son that she can talk to her co-workers about.

I let everything out on the table, confessing that Mike was my boyfriend, but not anymore, and that I'm seeing someone from another state. She knew that I had a boyfriend, yet she still prayed that I'd be straight (I knew she was in denial, though I convinced myself that she was that naive). My mom brought up how much she wanted to be "macho," and the times that I've made fun of my gay uncle; it was hard for her to grasp the fact that I'm gay and that I can throw a football without breaking a nail. I told her that my sexual orientation is not my personality. I made sure that she heard this: "Other than my sexual life, mom, I'm doing so well. Aren't I? Aren't I making you proud? Aren't I the one that's doing well in school? Aren't I the son that's making you proud?" She nodded her head, saying of course, but she still wanted me to be straight. She hated the idea that people she knew would talk about me. I reassured her that many already know, and she didn't like that idea either. And, again, I reassured her that other peoples' opinion about me being her gay son doesn't matter and doesn't affect my life or hers.

She cried. She asked what she did wrong. My mother did nothing wrong, and I told her that. I told her that I learned from my mother, the strongest and hardest working woman I know, and that I'm here to make her proud and happy; that I'm nothing like my older brothers when they were my age; and that me being gay is not going to change who I am. Yet she cries, still, hoping that I'll be straight. I won't force her into believing that I won't change, and in time she'll have to accept that.

It was a rougher talk than last time, but at the end, only one thing mattered:

She still loves me.

Out! Who's Next?

During the time I realized I was (still am, thank goodness) gay, I felt like I was living a double life. I was deep in a closet, not letting anyone know my secret. I remember coming out on blogger on my previous blog, and I built up the courage to tell my fabulous trait to everyone, including acquaintances, childhood friends, teachers, and other gay men. Yet I still didn't have the cajones to tell my direct family members.

I've mentioned before that it's easier to tell anyone new everything about yourself, because if he/she doesn't like you, why care(?), because they don't know you and you don't know them. It was harder, though, to tell friends you've known for a while, as you've built a history without them knowing you're a 'mo; there's a threat of your "friend" invalidating the comraderie you two have shaped. Thankfully, I've only had one experience of that happening, and, consequently, I lost one...out of the many. It does sound easy to delete someone from your life after that person suddenly looks at you in a different way, but I was, nonetheless, hurt. But what kept my head straight (hah, "straight") was realizing that my life doesn't revolve another person's opinion, knowing that I don't have to prove to some asshole that I'm still going to be the same person that everyone has known, whether I like boys' naughty parts or not.

And with that mentality, I've finally built up the courage to tell my mom today. They say that there is no such thing as perfect timing when it comes to coming out, and this situation was just that. As I sat on my computer chair, my momma asked for a nail-cutter. I gave it to her. She stood in the doorway, clipping her red fingernails, not even catching the nail clippings that dropped to the wooden floor and my green rug: Perfect opportunity to tell her I'm gay. So, I sat her down on my bed, telling her that I had something important to say. She asked me if anything was wrong, and I assured her nothing really is wrong. I asked if she loved me no matter what, and she says of course. I looked straight (hah, "straight") into her deep, loving, brown eyes; they told me, "I loved you as a baby and that has not changed." I told her: "I'm gay." I still locked my eyes on hers and anticipated tears -- but there were none.

"Ohh...well, I hope that changes," she said weakly. A bit frustrated, already, I ask her why would she would want me to change. She replied: "I want grandchildren from you." For a second I thought about adopting or having a surrogate child, just for her. But I reassured her that she already has a grandchild, and that she'll receive more from my two older brothers. "But I want grandchildren from you."

In the end, though, I hugged and kissed her, and asked her numerous times if she still loves me, and numerous times she assured me that she still does...

"I still want grandchildren from you."

Why I'm Voting for McCain

Now that I've got your attention...

Forget all the cute things I've said before about being a grownup. THIS time, for sure, is the turning point of my adulthood -- I swear.

I don't have enough time to catch up on my gay life, as too much has been going on since I've last posted. (I will say this, though: I'm more ffffabulous than ever!). What's more important in my life as of right now is the career that I hope and pray will be the right one for me. No, I'm not going to own a Subway restaurant, but I will be providing a service (and it doesn't have to do with making sub sandwiches). I just got the job as an independent living source provider. I'll help counsel, direct and redirect those with mental and physical disabilities to a more independent life; whether I help someone move out to an apartment or teach household management skills.

I believe this job is something for me (I say that as I cross my fingers), because I'll be dealing with different clients/consumers just about everyday. I need the variety. Asking whether someone provolone, swiss or American cheese every hour is not for me. Also, it will help me maximize my social skills as I'll meet different clients with different circumstances.

Not only will this job help me with social skills and provide a diverse network of people to work with, but this will enrich my current studies as a teacher. To counsel someone is to teach; to direct someone how to clean up their room is to teach; to help someone find a job is to teach -- this will only help me gain experience to be a teacher in the future.

There's not a doubt in my mind that this will be challenging, but the empathetic side of me will look at the people I work with and find motivation. I've already teared up one time when I was training with a co-worker who was helping a sweet lady that is bed-bound. The frustration of finding a company that will provide a Heyer lift and hearing the bed-ridden woman saying, "It's tough," as we are told to call back the pharmacy another week moistened my eyes.

I officially start on my own tomorrow with my first caseload of clients. I'm still crossing my fingers that this is the job for me.



As long as I have to look professional like this, I'll keep the job. I mean, c'mon; I look like I can sell you a car, or somethin'.

Mother's Day Surprise

I invited my mom to come to my school to see the painting I made for her.


Mom: "Who's that?!"

Me: "That's you when you were younger and prettier."


And you wonder why I'm her favorite son. =)