It’s Okay To Be Queer At The Academy

 

My name is Matthew, I’m standing in the Director’s office in the Academy waiting for my release papers. I always imagined that the sky from this room would be a baby blue but what little I can gleam through the shuttered blinds is not blue but a mixture of gray and white. Nothing is as you imagine it to be.

I’m 22 and there are things that should make sense to me now but they don’t. My parents, well, my dad, insisted I go to this Academy to “toughen me up”,  I don’t even know what that means but to him it means  “becoming straight.” As if. I am who I am, who I have always been but he won’t accept that, he thinks a therapist or a school could change me. I AM me.

My militant father refuses to accept all gay people, as if we have a choice. We were born this way! Hey, it’s a lot easier to be straight with prejudiced people like him than it is being gay.

Once, when I was younger, I challenged him about his narrow-minded views. He looked at me for one second and then pummeled me so badly I was black and blue for a week.  I looked so bad my mom called the school and said I was in a car accident. She tried to stand up for me but I said it was okay, I didn’t want him to hit her too.

My mother accepts me being gay and loves me for who I am. I have confided in her and while she worries that it is a hard life (and it is) she has accepted my choice and she loves me and supports me. My father is a mean bastard, when I first told him, he threw chairs around the room and would not let me even say the words out loud, ever. I tried to tell him that I was still his son but he viciously replied “I have no son, I have a faggot. You are not part of this family anymore.” How could he do that? I haven’t seen him since.

I love men, not women, is that such a crime? I wanted to go to college and be free but my dad forbid it. He sent me to this stupid Academy “to make a man out of me.”  I guess he thought the Academy would make me straight and I would start liking girls. I had the last laugh though, all the other guys were there for the same reason.Their parents sent them there to “toughen up” too. My father had no idea that most guys in the school were gay. I guess the joke was on him.

We call each other “queer” here in the Academy, it’s used as a term of endearment, I don’t understand how a parent can just stop loving a child, I really don’t but a lot of the guys here have had the same experience. I envy the men and women whose family love and support them no matter who they choose to love.

My mom has tried to talk to my dad many times about accepting me but he won’t budge. Fuck it, I guess I’m better off without him. I don’t need his lectures, his abuse and his screaming. All i ever wanted was his love. But, I knew, I always knew that I would never get that, ever. Yet, deep down, in a child-like way, I still hope that one day he will change and he will accept and love me for who I am. Yeah, I know, keep dreaming.

Dedicated to the LGBT community who do not feel loved by their families.

No photos due to Zemanta broken.

FWF, Kellie Elmore, Pain

Uncle Wally

My name is Wally, though people used to call me Mr. Dawson. I barely remember those days but I was you, Mister Fancy Suit, a long time ago. I had a great family and a job I loved, until my life changed and I became who I am today. My whole body is wracked in pain, every bone and muscle, even the inside of my head hurts all the time.

Pain (Photo credit: Rickydavid)

My liver and kidneys are rotting, orange like rust. I have lots of pain when I am sober enough to look at my life long enough to remember. It lasts only a minute or two, then I pop a handful of pills, drink two or three shots of cheap whiskey

 

and vodka or whatever I can get my hands on just to dull the edges around my sorry life.

I got the needle tracks on my arms, but today I’m hurting with no more crack or heroin to get me through the day. My friend Ben said he’ll come meet me at this here bar. He still isn’t here and I’m going through hell.

English: 2 Gs of Tweak (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

People don’t believe me when I tell them that I was  a white-collar, middle-class family man for more than twenty-five years. I had a little office, a desk and chair. I was a loyal employee and where did that get me? It got me nothing, that’s for sure. I put in all my hours, never took a sick day once and still they let me go.

I dealt with unemployment well the first year, I went on interviews but after a year and a half things slowed down. People weren’t returning my calls, I would interview for jobs and they would never say if I got the job or if I didn’t. I would call up and ask and people never returned the call. First, I thought it was just me but then I talked to some other guys, women too, who had lost their jobs and the same thing was happening to them, to everyone I knew.

I’d spent my whole adult life working here, every single day, being the husband to my wife Adele and the father to Gordon and Jennifer. Why, my office was a mini-vacation for my kids. every year they spent some time with me in “Daddy’s big office.” I loved that, when they came in and Mom made us all sandwiches from home. She’d do something special for herself that day, like get her hair done or her nails and I was so proud that I could give that to her. She was the best wife and mother you could ask for in a person.

Liquid Dinner (Photo credit: Rolling Okie)

What happened to the great country I lived in? No money coming in, now Adele was working part-time. Finally, something inside me died. I couldn’t stand it anymore it hurt so much that I started drinking a lot to dull the pain, I drank around the clock, I stopped shaving and wouldn’t leave the house. My wife used to scream at me, she said I was a “bad influence on the kids.” We fought all the time.

I was a nasty drunk too. Adele, threw me out. The last straw was when I got real angry, so angry that I slapped my wife, well, I pushed her and she turned pale, she was scared of me. She had every right. I was not the man she married. I was not the husband she loved, the father of her children. I was an addict but I didn’t want help, I just wanted out.

I grabbed a few of my things and stuffed them into a bag. The kids were at school and Adele was working. I took our savings money and I left. I walked out the door thinking it would be better for them. I thought I did the right thing, looking at me now, three years later, I am convinced I was right.

 

 

 

 

Something I Wish I Had Done Differently

Stop Signs Mean Stop

Stop Sign-State Property

This happened 20 years ago and I am still mad at myself. I was driving to work at Boston College and stopped at a stop sign, like the cautious driver I am. (My son thinks I drive like a grandma.) I was ready to go when I was rear-ended by a sports car. I was upset, It was obviously his fault however, here was the red-faced blustery aggressive man who started yelling at ME. “This is your fault you know” and then he proceeded to pull out his reluctant 9 year old son from the car and said “he’s my witness.” I didn’t fight back, I didn’t yell, curse or call the police I was in total shock. He kept yelling and I kept cowering; it couldn’t be my fault I knew that but he kept screaming loudly. I wish I had called 911 and made the man stay there but while I told him I was calling, he said he would leave. I was a cowardly wimp, a mashed potato, a limp piece of asparagus. In short, I was a wuss. I hated myself for that years later.My husband and I both called this angry, nasty guy but we got nowhere. Months later, I was rear-ended again and I jumped out of my car and yelled at this lady, taking all my aggravation from the past, on her. Sorry, lady. I guess I was just practicing. To the guy who rear-ended me all those years ago, you are an ass and a bully and a horrible parent to try and involve an innocent little boy. Shame on you.

Mel Gibson, I’ve Always *STRONGLY DISLIKED You

In my first draft of this post, the title was:” Mel Gibson I’ ve always *hated you.”Dislike just seemed way too much of an understatement. After reading and posting that draft, I realized I was being hypocritical by using the word “hate,” since then I wouldn’t be much better ( ok, that’s debatable) than Mel Gibson himself.  However, there is not a single, solitary thing I like about Mel Gibson, including his acting, his movies, his racist and anti-semitic rants and his abuse towards women. I’m not even saying alleged abuse since apparently he admitted this on tape.

I have no patience for fools, and certainly no patience for those who speak out with hatred and evil. I am not representing one race or one religion here, I represent them all. Mel Gibson, you make me sick. While I have never paid a dime to see any of your work you can rest assured I will NEVER pay a cent now. For people to pay good money to watch depravity and evil is a sin.

Don’t start with the 5th amendment either. I don’t care. I don’t like you, I don’t respect you and I don’t care if you are addicted to alcohol. Just don’t, please don’t, end up in “rehab” and say it wasn’t your fault. I’m sick of it. I was sick of it with Tiger Woods and I am sick of it here too. Don’t even get me started on Lindsay Lohan….

I actually happened to see a few minutes of the show “The View” where they were talking about Mel Gibson. Whoopi Goldberg, a woman and actress I deeply admire, was telling the co-presenters and the audience that “Mel Gibson was a friend, and she had never seen him act like this in front of her.” While I admire her allegiance to her friend, I question what she was thinking and what point she was trying to make. Yes, alcohol does make you do stupid and bad things but it doesn’t mean, just because he hasn’t acted that way in your presence, it hasn’t happened. I think we all know better.

Put me on “The View” I’m just in the mood to battle with Elizabeth Hasselback and high-five Joy Behar. As for Whoppi Goldberg? You are entitled to your feelings and your truth. But, while you defend your friend, try to make sure, to keep an open mind. See how he interacts with his other friends, girlfriend, people of different religions and races.

I’ve lost patience with all these so-called movie stars or celebrities. How about us admiring a person because they are good, because they are nice, and give plenty to charity? How about we make no exceptions for movie stars and celebrities because they are “famous.”  Famous for what?