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Reminisces from the Mad Scientist™

04/05/2012

Entry 04/05/2012 02:59:24 PM – Mentat 638

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve had night terrors. And it seems that last night was one of those nights. I mean I had positively none of the earmarks that I would get if I were going to have nightmares; the weird twinge in the back of my mind that feels like a worm trying to get out. The antsy feelings I sometimes without any rhyme or reason. But it happened. It happened when my roommate came home in the middle of the early morning (3’ish or so) and he was fumbling through the kitchen with his bags of laundry. I woke up hearing him going through the bags, and the only thing I remember wanting to do is scream my lungs out. I think that I tried, but couldn’t get a sound out of me (thanks largely to being dead tired and unable to move (thanks largely to the hormones that the body produces to keep it from moving when one is asleep). I was afraid of something, but in my waking mind, I can’t remember why or what the cause of it was. Fortunately for me, I gave up quickly and fell back to sleep. Still though, it has been some time since I’ve had that sort of unrelenting and unnerving terror. And I did sleep pretty well for the remainder of the night… Certainly better than it used to be in my 20s.

[Last Edited: 04/05/2012 05:12:26 PM]

Actually, I talked with my roommate this afternoon as he came back to the house ½ hour ago. Turns out that he didn’t actually come home at all, and that all the sounds that I was hearing in the house were all in my imagination. Great… More to be slightly concerned about.

So I’m sitting here trying to get caught up on my Hulu queue. Since my happy obsession with the various Soap Operas involving gay couples, I’ve fallen horribly behind. Sitting there that last couple of days, I realize that I’ve simply lost complete interest in the stories within my queue too. Not surprisingly really given that as I sit here watching them I find them so… mainstream. Girl meets boy/boy meets girl. They do the normal things of fall in love, fight evil and injustice, go about their lives and eventually live happily ever after (or in the case of a series, returns to the status quo that was established since the start).. Blah, blah, blah… While I like the stories and I like the archetypes, at the same time I’m reinventing them (and the stories surrounding them) as gay and lesbian. It’s a habit of mine that I’ve had for the longest time given that the 70s and 80s, there have been few to no gay heroes in stories. After all, somewhere at the early start of my coming out process, I believed there are an equal amount of heroes — both straight and gay — so why should television and movies simply focus on the 90% of the population that I’m not really a part of?
I admit it, I am a citizen of two worlds. There’s one world that most (heterosexual) folk walk in and one that I often find myself flooded with… The world that deals with sex selling, and the prettiest man or woman getting the prettiest woman or man from the moment I wake up in the morning, to the time I shut the world out and eventually fall asleep. One that tries to promote the “sanity” that says that when you find someone of the opposite sex attractive, you fall in love, you get married, you have that 2½ kids and cat/dog with the picket fence house in the suburbs. The world where — for reasons that defy my understanding sometimes — men can’t always understand women, and women sure as hell don’t always seem to understand men. Where social stigmas seem to run rampant and taboos are something to be reviled and scorned publicly and sought after privately. Where the good of all are determined by the majority and anything different such a narrow viewpoint established by the majority should be hated, mocked, oppressed and pushed under the rug to be forgotten at worst, to ignored at best.

The other world…. Being citizen of the other world takes quite a bit of traveling to get to. Once you get beyond the dysfunction, the want to escape, the anger and self-loathing, the depression and sadness that comes from having to face oppression, suppression and being treated as a second-class citizen to the majority of humanity on a day to day basis in some form or another. An occasional safe space for the queerfolk can live and breath and have their being… A world where a quote like this makes sense and is perfectly normal:

Roy Cohn: [under the impression that Belize is the Angel of Death] Can I ask you something, sir?
Belize: [going along with it] “Sir”?
Roy Cohn: What’s it like? After?
Belize: After…?
Roy Cohn: This misery ends?
Belize: Hell or heaven?
Roy Cohn: …heh…
Belize: Like San Francisco.
Roy Cohn: A city! Good! I was worried… it’d be a garden. I hate that shit.
Belize: Mmmm. Big city. Overgrown with weeds, but flowering weeds. On every corner a wrecking crew and something new and crooked going up catty corner to that. Windows missing in every edifice like broken teeth, gritty wind, and a gray high sky full of ravens.
Roy Cohn: Isaiah.
Belize: Prophet birds, Roy. Piles of trash, but lapidary like rubies and obsidian, and diamond-colored cowspit streamers in the wind. And voting booths. And everyone in Balenciaga gowns with red corsages, and big dance palaces full of music and lights and racial impurity and gender confusion. And all the deities are creole, mulatto, brown as the mouths of rivers. Race, taste and history finally overcome. And you ain’t there.
Roy Cohn: And Heaven?
Belize: That was Heaven, Roy.

(From Angels in America for those of you wondering where that came from).

A world, where men understand women extremely well, and women understand men. A world where not every hero gets the girl, or the heroine gets the boy. A world where the things called perversion are understood as part of living, and are avoided only when one wants to avoid them. Oh, it’s not about the moral purity of society that causes folk of that world to avoid (and in the dichotomy of being homo sapiens covet in secret) , but instead because of the purity of one’s beliefs — their soul if you will. A world where man can love a man and settle down to form a family, or a woman can with a woman and do the same thing. It might not be able to call itself a “community”, but in the microcosmic sense — it’s a community nonetheless — what I would occasionally call ‘the family we choose.’

I realize that I’ve been a long way away. I know that the reason is because of my own choosing. I know I can attribute my being away because of fear of trying. I can also attribute it to my calling to educating people to the differences between the two worlds I have lived in. I know in the attempts that I’ve tried making my way back, I’ve found myself lost in the dysfunction, the oppression, the anger, and the self-loathing of others. I know I find insurmountable obstacle in those that try so hard to be the same as everyone else, when the world is meant to be filled with color, diversity, difference and just a little bit of one’s own je ne sais quoi. Sometimes I don’t know if I’ll ever make my way back.

Yeah, I know… that’s the pessimist and the cynic in me talking. I know I’m just letting off steam on this. At the moment though, I’m just feeling a bit put out after watching about 4 hours of queue and feeling more than a little alien while watching all the weirdness of girls fawning for boys, boys fighting with each other over some girl, and drama that plays out in such a predictably over-dramatic way.

Well, I think I’m going to cut out for the time being. I’m getting mildly annoyed with my reminiscing and longing for different places and different days. Off to enjoy another beer, and perhaps play a little before I pass out in bed. Until the next time.

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