50 Things That I Find Bothersome

           I got this idea from BLB's post, “Top 50 Things that Drive Me Nuts (Part 1 of 2).”

            Listing and defining the things that bother me isn't something I've done before. Let's see if I can't think of 50 things that I find bothersome...

**These aren't in any particular order **

1. Sleep sex. This requires an explanation. A topic for another post methinks...
2. The Star Wars prequel trilogy. I desperately want to remake them.
3. Sweat. Yuck.
4. Youth Conferences and with that...
5. Blind faith and
6. Elder's Quorum lessons.
7. Movies in which at least one of the main character's parents died when they were young. How many movie mother's must die in child birth?
8. Matthew Morrison's chin. It really creeps me out.
9. Waking up in the morning to find your face is completely clear of acne except for one zit. A big, red one :(
10. Hearing a recording of myself singing.
11. Watching a recording of myself acting.
12. Snow that gets caught in your gloves and in your boots.
13. My upper passaggio is at F sharp. It's really inconvenient.
14. Clothes that looked good on you at the store, but look awful on you once you get home.
15. I thrive on attention, yet hate competitions.
16. I've never found a monologue that I connect with and can perform well during an audition.
17. Eating fish. They taste like the ocean; It's disgusting.
18. Bad haircuts.
19. I haven't found a reason to come out of the closet. Another post topic.
20. Buildings in real life don't have such accessible ventilation shafts as the buildings in movies.
21. I always have a hint of sarcasm in my voice, even when I'm trying to be sincere. This has confused many people.
22. “Bye Bye Birdie.” I like musicals, but this one's just awful. And to think they made a sequel show...
23. I am useless in sports. I flail my arms too much.
24. The arresting frustration of writer's block. It took me about fifteen minutes to come up with this one; I'm not kidding.
25. American white rice.
26. I want to eat more vegetables, but I don't know how to cook them.
27. Jell-O. It makes me shake.
28. I am naturally awkward. Awkward encounters gravitate to me.
29. I'm a horrible conversationalist. I can never start a conversation, and when I respond to people I have this tendency to say too much.
30. I'm hurt when people are visibly disconcerted by how unintentionally campy I can be.
31. I confess that I know I'm the cute “baby faced” guy, and I use this fact to my advantage all the time. Please don't mistake this as vanity; I feel guilty already!
32. I can be really impatient and short with my family, even when I know they mean well and act out of love.
33. I dread/dream of my first gay kiss. What if it isn't what it's cracked up to be?
34. I still have my own struggles with homophobia. Another post topic.
35. Textbooks.
36. Fringe, one of my favorite TV shows, is going to be moved to Friday nights. This probably means that FOX wants it canceled. Walter is one of my favorite TV show characters of all time.
37. I use the words “obsessed,” “desperately,” and “shamelessly” too often.
38. I blush really easy.
39. I'm extremely self-conscious about people seeing me run and exercise.
40. I laugh at things no one else laughs at. Hahaha... Oh... Wait.. *cricket*
41. I have this extraordinary knack for locating funeral homes. I really don't know what to make of this...
42. Going to the bathroom in the wilderness.
43. Light pollution.
44. Jurassic Park isn't a real place. Neither is Hogwarts :(
45. About 60% of my wardrobe is blue. Completely unintentional; I'm trying to incorporate more colors every time I go shopping.
46. I'm a sucker for online personality quizzes: I'm an INFP. I'm the “All-Around Cute Gay Guy.” If I were a leading lady in a movie, I'd be Satine from Moulin Rouge!. I'm in Hufflepuff. If I were video game bad a**, I'd be Link. And the last time I checked, my aura was the color green. :P
47. I get absorbed in the magazine rack whenever I'm in the check-out line.
48. The sun is going to die! In like, a bajillion years, but it's still scary.
49. It always surprises me to find out my friends genuinely care for me and love me.
50. Whenever I hear a song on my iPod or the radio, I immediately begin to think of a way Ryan Murphy will fit it into a Glee episode. Who knew Rachel Barry and Shelbi Cochran would sing Mika's cover of “Poker Face?” Very clever, Mr. Murphy, very clever...

           Phew, that took awhile! It's a somewhat embarrassing list, but I feel quite accomplished for even thinking of 50 things that bother me. It's gotten me excited about future blog posts...

            But lest I get ahead of myself, List-o-mania isn't over yet: For everyone of the bothersome things listed above, there is something that makes me smile. I'll be posting those next :)

Three Types of Silence

Anne Simley Theatre, Hamline University

I.

I have sat alone on the apron stage.

My feet dangled freely off it's edge.

No other sat beside me, in front of or behind me,

The theatre's only soul was mine,

sitting on the ledge.

The seats stretched before me in their neatly numbered rows,

The thrones of critics, dreamers, and like-kind.

Filled with powd'ry dust and air (I was the only person there).

Filled seats whose current occupants were

gum,

lost playbills...

my Mind.

How did the theatre sound from the apron stage?

The silence did contrast the shuffling crowds of the past.

But a full House it did become

When ---listening closely; I heard the hum!---

From the House of Silence, my audience was cast:

II.

Contentment showered me with unspoken admiration.

All I've done that has been of note, it praised with affection.

For I (the player) had played my part,

Struggled and fought from the start.

A blessed, sweet silence did give me recognition.

Anticipation then approached me, an anxious, concerning absence.

It tempered my flighty thoughts of certain fame.

We pondered what fickle Future holds,

What it will and won' t uphold,

Of promises and dreams I hallowed

Early in this Game.

Fear then clutched me, with an icy grip and stare!

Using That-Which-Is-Golden to frighten and to cull,

“I'll amplify,” it cried, “what you lack and can't control!

“Until my darkest fantasies envelop your reality,

“Be paralyzed with Silence!”

Fear did tug...

And it did pull...

III.

Have you ever sat alone on the apron stage?

Have your hopes and dreams ever danced before your eyes?

As the Silence sits beside you, in front of and inside you,

The theatre's only mind is yours.

The visions? Your design.

The seats will stretch before you in their neatly numbered rows,

Thrones filled by critics, dreamers, all your Mind.

Content to watch, and wait, and see,

The type of person you will be,

Reminiscing and predicting, and afraid

Of what you will find...

That silence spoke of sundry things, on that apron stage.

To me, a child, acting out life's thrills.

I find it particularly strange that I

Perched on the stage, found it was my

Audience that performed. Silent, Unseen, and Still.

            

             I was in a poetic mood today, and recalled a memory from my senior year in high school that was particularly poignant.

          

           It was close to graduation. I think it was during a study period. Somehow I found myself alone in the auditorium. It was a rare thing that there weren't any classes in the auditorium at the time; many classes had a study period in it. I took advantage of the moment by seating myself on the edge of the stage.

           

           To my surprise, I got a little emotional as I stared out at the hundreds of empty seats. I didn't cry. But all the memories of plays and concerts past, and the fact that this introductory chapter of my life was coming to a close fell heavily upon me. There was only one thing to do, and that was to sit in silence. It was probably one of the most peculiar silences I've ever listened to. The silence had such a tangible, sentient quality to it... I could have been in the presence an audience, holding their breath, waiting to see what I'd do next.

           I'm convinced one can hear the absence of sound. It isn't the same as hearing a sound; instead, the emotions of the moment are projected into the absence, and one registers the sensation as some kind of “noiseless noise.” Maybe one hears a buzz, or maybe even a ringing. Silence always reflects the pervading feeling of the listening space. Give it a listen, the next time you're surrounded by Silence :)

Crushes!

           As silly as this sounds, one of the greatest parts of understanding that I am gay was realizing that I had crushes on celebrities. Everybody I know has had some sort of infatuation with a famous figure. I take a mental inventory of my friends, and I can name at least one famous person that each of them finds attractive. For my girl friends, Matthew Morrison and Ben Barnes and the Jonas Brothers seem to be fairly popular. For the guys, literally every last one of them starts salivating whenever Megan Fox bends over or whenever they encounter a reference to Taylor Swift. (I believe that nowadays, guy's dorms across the country come provided with a poster of Taylor Swift. In my adventures among guy's dorms at BYU I observed most had posters of the country star in such prominent places, you'd think she were some lesser Mormon deity.)

          I had always been greatly disturbed at my lack of interest in women, especially the super star variety. Every man seemed to have some sort of strong pull to one or the other. To be completely frank about my feelings towards the ladies mentioned above, I would have to say Megan Fox grosses me out and that I would love to have lunch with Taylor Swift. Maybe we could go shopping afterwards...

            Understanding now that I am gay, I would like to celebrate by listing my top three celebrity crushes and describe why I am not-so-secretly obsessed with them. If anything in my post hasn't given away how young I am, this list will, to be sure. Feel free to laugh; I don't mind. It makes me smile and it makes me content to know I can be so completely and illogically bowled over by cute guys :)

 

          3.) Shia LeBeouf

            Does anybody else see those eyes? They're gorgeous! He's gorgeous! I confess that I have no idea how long I spent staring at his photo shoot in April's GQ. I was going to give you an egregiously hyperbolic estimation, but the amount of time doesn't seem to matter because he is just so lovely. Let me just say LeBeouf wears the crap out of those suits he wore in that shoot, and I wouldn't ever be able to concentrate in an office if he was there, let alone if he looked like that... *sigh*

           Anyway, he's also a pretty darn good actor. I'm not so sure about the quality of his latest roles; I didn't see Wall Street. However, he seems to have a knack for playing the quirky, slightly dorky characters which I love because I am, quite simply, a dork. Other attractive qualities include his voice. There's this indescribable quality to it that's just... so... well... yeah....

           The downside? Shia LeBeouf seems to me to be a jerk. Of course, I don't know him, so I don't care. He's beautiful.

          

           2.) Michael Angarano

             Do you even know who he is? I'm not sure he's well known, but that doesn't impact how I feel. If I were to ever encounter him in real life, I'd involuntarily blush madly, make a really awkward rapidly mumbled attempt at a, “Hello,” and then, I'd hug him. Then, I'd probably be arrested for being so awkward.

           I believe I am obsessed due to how completely disarming his smile is. His smile makes me smile every time. And that picture of him biting a chair is hilarious and adorable... (Sorry if this is creepy.) For me, Angarano can do no wrong and every expression of his makes me melt.

           He is one of the many reasons why The Forbidden Kingdom is such an entertaining movie, and even though the movie was really uncomfortable, his performance in Gentleman Broncos was really heartwarming and authentic.

           The downside? He dated Kristin Stewart, which is a strong indication that he is straight. Secretly, I rejoiced when I found out that Kristin and Rob were to be wed... and now you know why. I am a very jealous dreamer.

            1.) David Archuleta

            And now, Mr. Number One, David.

             I don't know if you have ever felt this way before, but let me frame how I feel about David in the form of a question: Have you ever been so infatuated with a person you could barely look at them because if you did look at them your eyes would reveal how absolutely hard you fell for them? Yeah, that's me.

            There was a point in time where I had difficulty suppressing embarrassing outbursts unfitting of a teenage boy when I saw a picture of David or heard one of his songs. I'm proud to say that I can now look at a picture of him and listen to his music, without making a scene. Yes, I am pathetic.

             Everything about him draws me in. He is ridiculously good looking (hair, eyes, smile, sense of fashion, whatever else that counts...) and all that, but he also is a talented singer, my personal favorite to come out of American Idol. His voice, speaking and singing, turn me into a human puddle. He also seems really sweet. I shamelessly confess to watching interviews with Archuleta, and he has this way of meandering through his sentences that is really endearing. David also is a self-proclaimed dork, which means that we are meant to be together forever :P (Hahaha, this is the Mormon part of me that is attracted to other Mormons.)

             His latest album The Other Side of Down is really great, and I've listened to it countless times since it came out a couple of months ago. Maybe it's my obsession with him that makes it so, but I swear he sings the soundtrack of my life. Even before I realized he was my first celebrity crush, I could relate to his music. His music is comforting, uplifting, and just plain fun.

             One last item of note concerning David Archuleta: Every time I see him, my gaydar goes off. Listening to his music makes one wonder, especially songs like “Crush”, "Angels", and “My Kind of Perfect.” Especially "Angels." The song is about loving angels instead... I assume instead of another living human being. Doesn't that idea fit in with that Mormon belief that gay men will eventually find a woman to marry, even if it's in the afterlife? (I'm pretty sure that's not what the songs about, but it fits.) Sure it sounds like he's talking about girls, but really... I don't know... Something doesn't seem right. I've also noticed when he talks about dating, he claims he's never dated anyone and he tends to stick with gender neutral words. I know people defend David by saying he's just a “Sweet Mormon Guy” that's just really nice to people, but I am also one of those “Sweet Mormon Guys” whose sexuality is assumed based on my religion. I won't even mention that time he was seen at a gay establishment...

              His sexuality is his own business. Gay or straight, I'm still obsessed with him. It just makes me sad if he really is gay and won't admit it to himself. It wouldn't be likely he'd come out of the closet anytime soon considering most of his fans are teenage girls and that he probably has deep-seated Mormon homophobia. It's really a sad thought...

            Hahahaha, I've thought/researched wayyyyy too much about this ;P

            So there you go. My top three celebrity crushes. Looking back on this particular group of people it occurs to me that I may have a certain type I'm attracted to... Huh, that was unintentional. I guess I know what to keep an eye out for!  

Much Ado About Nothing

“So... what are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you do anything today?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Oh... Okay. Well, you must be really bored.”

“Actually, I'm okay.”

           This is the part where I get a really odd look from whoever had been asking the questions. The look's a blend of disbelief and confusion. Sometimes, there is a severe amount of squinting, like they are trying to squeeze the truth from me with their eyes. How could Apronkid possibly be happy doing nothing? I'll never answer the question implied. Instead, I will let the questioneer shrug and go on their merry way.

          

           I am a dreamer. My most common facial expression is like unto that of a donut: glazed. I'd guess if you were to glance at me in passing I would appear to be bewildered, disinterested, or just plain void of expression. I would probably be staring at the ceiling or the floor, or staring through people. My arms would probably be folded across my chest and I'd being leaning my weight on one hip (my left to be exact). This is me doing what I do best, and that is “Nothing.”

           Daydreaming, thinking, meditating, even praying... Different names for similar games. Yeah, that's just me doing “Nothing.”

           (Rant: I'd like to sit down with the Individual who decided that one must do something to be someone. I'd really like to sit them down and have a chat. Perhaps it's my extensive experience with doing “Nothing,” but my gut feeling tells me I was someone before I ever started doing anything. So, Individual, I do not have to do something to be someone. I am someone, and I did nothing to deserve it. How do you respond, Individual? I'm not sure I want to hear the answer...)

           Anyway, doing “Nothing” opens the door to simply enjoy being. There is just so much to being that I miss when I'm busy doing. It's a beautiful thing to deny the ever-present call to do, and just be. Wandering where I may and feeling what I might, I will always be lost, yet found, in my own mind. I connect dots and I fit pieces together, only to complete a nameless picture I'll never know the meaning of. I soothe the static, and tune into strange (yet familiar) musics, just so I can wonder why I think the sound is beautiful and wonder why it makes me cry. I know the meaning of life one moment, and I can't remember why I was born the next. Isn't that fantastic? I'll tell you it's wonderful! To ponder what I am and am not, and then do absolutely “Nothing” about it... It conjures up within me the most authentic of feelings: the feeling of being... the feeling that I am...

           Doing is making shadow puppets with your hands. Being is recognizing that those shadowy players take shape because you manipulate your hands; that your hands have their own distinct shape, regardless of how you can manipulate them; that without the light, there wouldn't be a shadow at all...

           Hahaha, I read my thoughts above, and I tell you now that I am fully aware that I sound like a raving lunatic. There is reason buried deep in the madness. Doing “Nothing” used to bother me so. I used to live off the feeling of accomplishment and success. I think everyone has lived off of such sometime in their life, even if they didn't realize it. It can be messy business, since life isn't solely made of accomplishments and success.

           Well, to such thinking I say, “No More!” For now, it sufficeth me to just be Apronkid. I am committed to love, to give thanks, to do “Nothing” shamelessly, and to be. This, my friends, is a resolution. :)

I love you, but...

(How embarrassing! The melody name is Kingsfold, not Kingsford. For anyone who knew that, and turned a blind eye to my mistake, thank you for letting me indulge my ego the last two posts.) :P

          On another note: Today during Elder's Quorum we discussed how one hears/feels the Holy Ghost. I was extremely tempted to bring up Katy Perry's “Firework” music video, and relate it to the “burning in the bosom” sensation described in Doctrine & Covenants...

           I didn't do it, but the thought made me smile :)

*****

           I had a dream last night. It involved me walking through a mall parking lot with my ex-girlfriend and some “dream friends.” (You know “dream friends”; they're faceless and nameless, but somehow they're dear to you just the same.) It was a clear night, and the moon was bright enough to light the trees and the asphalt with a silver glow. We all walked leisurely through the parking lot, as there were no cars to speak of. The mall itself was a quiet, grey building off in the distance. We all just walked... and laughed... and talked...

           I held her hand. She was truly beautiful in the moonlight. She has a radiant smile, and golden hair, but she doesn't love the way she looks as much as I do. I kissed her on the cheek. All of my “dream friends” laughed at us and teased us. They told us how cute we were together. (We, of course, knew that already.) I was happy, and she felt loved.

           Then, I woke up.

            The end of our relationship was tough, but we knew deep down we were heading different directions in life. The day we broke up, I told her I was gay. She held me and kissed me, and gave me the best advice: “I hope no matter where life takes you, you'll always be true to yourself.” That might not be exactly what she said, but that's what I heard and remember.

          

          Since that moment, I have felt so much regret. I have thought on all the times I said, “I love you, but...”. I have recalled all those moments where I panicked and broke up with her and made her cry, only to come crawling back the next day. I have tried to sleep at night, and the thought that I had made her miserable would tear me to pieces. I remember how many times I said, “I'm sorry,” only to here her reply, “I love you.” It always stung that her love didn't come with a “but...”

           

           How else was I supposed to put it?? I really did fall for her, no mistake. Honestly, I did! There are so many “Why's?” and so many “How's?”, I can't truly put into words how real and lovely it was to have her and be there for her. And yet, to feel so hollow in my heart... Why did I feel this way?

          

           I used to be so ashamed. Ashamed to admit my first real celebrity crush was David Archuleta. (You may laugh.) Ashamed to admit that when a guy gave me a hug my heart leapt involuntarily. How could I tell her about how giddy I was when one of my best friends told me jokingly that he'd date me if he were gay? How could I hurt her and humiliate her like that??

I love you, but...

           Time and reflection have sanded away the sharper edges of my regret, and the guilt and pain is slowly ebbing away like a quiet tide. What's left on the shore are priceless tokens of selflessness and companionship; of laughter and tears; of a love come and gone. (Perhaps “gone” is the wrong word...

In fact, I know it is. It's just different now, you know?)

And so it seems, in a world of dreams,

My heart's been put to ease.

A moment lived in a quiet night

Behind closed eyes, I see.

          This Thanksgiving season, I'm thankful for my ex-girlfriend. I'm thankful for words. And, I am thankful for dreams.

What's in a Name?

          7676D is a meter. Kingsfold is a melody. Kingsfold is a melody in the meter of 7676D.

          Most Mormons would know Kingsfold as “If You Could Hie to Kolob,” one of the few LDS hymns in a minor key, and one of the most enigmatic and bizarre. The melody is haunting, beautiful even, and I don't know if anyone else can hear it, but there's a tinge of sadness that seems to linger in the background, like the melody has a shadow.

          I'm attracted to beautiful and sad things like moths are attracted to light. The recognition of how sad yet extraordinarily beautiful things like struggle, loss, or sacrifice are invites hope in me. Bittersweet things remind me that even though it feels like I lose more often than I win, and cry more often than I laugh, I have a life that I can make wonderful. Listening to the Kingsford melody always affords me that sweet moment where I can value the “fall” just as much I value the “getting back up.”

          So that's the significance of naming my blog Kingsfold. I'll be honest; including the meter of the melody added a sound to the title I really liked, which is mostly why this blog is called “Kingsfold, 7676D” and not just “Kingsfold.” There is, however, an aspect of the relationship between meter and melody that I feel is relevant to my blog:

          Just because two songs have the same meter, doesn't mean they have the same melody.

          Consider your background and experience to be your meter. My life and your life have meters. Maybe they're the same, maybe they're not. But even if we share the same exact meter, you and I are still entitled to have our own melody.

          My life meter is Mormon. I live life in the Mormon meter. I was raised in the Church, my father pioneer stock and my mother a convert. I am and have always been an active member, save for during my brief encounter with BYU. The melody I was taught in the Church was the “Melody of the Heterosexual Mormon Boy”, quite a lovely piece if you're meant to sing it. Even though I sung that particular Mormon melody with gusto, part of me recognized my particular rendition was dissonant with the popular tune...

          In this last year, I've started to hum my own melody. I haven't sung it very loud, mind you. It echoes and bounces off the walls of my closet, and out here on the interwebs in the form of this blog. I'm still trying to get the notes right.

          

          You see, I'm not composing the music. The melody is already apart of me; I've just got to remember where I put the score.

Haha, so there it is! Now you know Kingsfold, 7676D :)

My First Post!

 And so it begins...this is my blog.

Bah! It makes me so nervous! Here I go! Dive! Dive! Dive!

I had this really thoughty thought the other day that really got me thinking, and that thought was this:

Why don't I create stuff anymore?

          My senior year of high school is this bright and shiny blur of neon colors, and the whole time it was like I had this buzz; it was some sort of creative tick. Between leading a marching band, acting/set designing/graphic designing for high school theatre productions, singing my face off in choir and being the Bishop's first assistant, I pumped out my own one act musical with original pieces and arranged/composed music for fun in my spare time and directed it all as a senior project. Haha, what a life! Senior year was some sort of personal Renaissance.

          (Now, mind you, this isn't bragging. Actually, I look back now and sometimes it makes me sick to think how much I put myself through just to look like I was the best at everything...)

          And then I went to BYU...

          ...became mentally unstable, and consequentially took a year off from higher education to regroup and create a healthier space. Creating a healthier space meant, among other things, realizing I've been living life in The Closet, with Capital Letters. It was an unexpected bump in the road, to be sure. (Wasn't I supposed to be going on a mission or something?) I feel much better now, thank you, and am definitely in a good place.

          The problem with this good place, however, is the fact I have had no willpower to create stuff. My most compelling creative juices have just been sucked away for reasons unknown. I cannot abide being a prune of former creativity. The image disturbs me.

           So as I ponder my thoughty thought I remember that one of the most rewarding aspects of creating a song or a story or an essay or something is being able to share it with others. If you make something, what's the point if you don't share it? That goes for ideas and baked goods. People share their crappy baked goods with neighbors and friends all the time... it's mind boggling o_0

           And so, I have come to this conclusion: I will share my thoughts and experiences on this blog. The big ones, the small ones, the stupid meaningless variety... It doesn't really matter. Hopefully by doing a little bit more sharing I'll feel more encouraged to make something worthwhile. And because this is a blog, you can come with me :P

This is Kingsfold, 7676D. It's a blog, not a street address. Feel free to stop by anytime :)