I read of girl who once refused to look in a mirror for an entire year. It bothers me that at the thought of the very prospect of emulating her, I become terrified.
Vanity! It runs in my veins. I can appreciate the beauty of another. I can see someone as human, with feelings, thoughts, fears, loves, and imaginations. I, however, can only appreciate what cold, unfeeling surfaces reflect of me when I wish to appraise me. It's a bitter truth. I feel most vulnerable when I admit it.
Of course I have worth. Of course I am attractive, sexy, and whatever else is supposed to matter! So are you. But can we face our admirable qualities if we were to strip ourselves naked in front of the nearest looking glass? Mirror is a harsh material, and I am an unrelenting critic.
Why is it so hard to love yourself in the same ways that others love you?
We have so much to fight against. Fashion, video games, porn, movies, art, history... These are just a few things that inform me, a gay man, of how I'm "supposed" to look. It's paralyzing to realize just how pervasive their messages are... But there is little I can do, save I just be me.
Once upon a time, I was anorexic in just about every sense of the word minus the official diagnosis. I'd eat hardly anything, and pound away on a treadmill for hours at a time. I hated myself for what I did there, and it's been scary and weird trying to build a trusting, loving relationship with food and exercise ever since. I'm not good at this, but I'm trying.
I'm trying to accept the man I am. I'm trying to accept that my ideal is, well, an unknown ultimate. A magazine can't tell me what I'll look like when I'm healthy. The internet can't tell me either. Even my friends can't give me what I'm looking for. This is about how I perceive myself, and only I can give myself the green light to live and reject the ideals projected by popular culture.
And after everything, if I give in to pressures and forces outside my control, the thing that will surprise me most is that I was me the whole time. My hair might be longer or shorter. My body toned or not so much, depending on how much I exercise. Perhaps I will have wrinkles, or yellow teeth, or something else so human that it's deemed airbrush worthy. Wherever time takes me, a person I was waiting to be will have always been locked up inside. I wouldn't ever live fully, because I was waiting to be, well... beautiful.
But perhaps I can make my own kind of beautiful now. Perhaps I can celebrate what is me, and what will be mine now and always. Maybe there is a person out there who finds me interesting, worthy of love, who needs me and wants me no matter the mirror.
I was crushed by a mirror today, metaphorically speaking. This is just a matter of getting back up, and walking away from years of worthless, self-destructive rubble. I forgive myself, love myself, and never wait to live. Keys open locked doors, not mirrors.
I'm completely out of the closet. When I say that, when I think that, I recognize that these days I breathe easier. Close friends say that there's a noticeable difference in the way I act; they're probably right. I will always be coming out to people, but the bulk of my work has been done. I can walk away from the closet now, and leave it behind for good.
But there are parts of me that I've had to say goodbye to. There were compliments to my closet that I can no longer access because they are no longer a part of me like they once were. Once, there was a Muse who attended me. She guarded me with songs and plays. I would voraciously eat through paper and pencil, and the results were heartfelt compositions. I was proud of them, and I thought there would never be a day that I wouldn't be driven to create in the way that she pushed me. Well, that day has come. Writing and drawing and composing are different to me now. All are still special to me, still a part of me; but my motivations are quieter. This is a calmer, quieter thing.
Huddled in a dark closet, fewer things kept me safer than she who made me burn with stories and songs. Perhaps it seems strange to you for me to personify this part of me the way I do, but she feels like an other. We've parted ways, and I'll always remember and be proud of what we made together. I was afraid to move on without her as a part of my identity. If I wasn't an author and composer all my life, who would be? Well, it turns out I can be a very interesting person. It's interesting that after accepting being gay, I find a whole new host of ways to define myself.
She smiled when she saw a new dawn in my eyes. Hand in hand, we walked out of a closet, and stepped in a maze. I chose one direction, she another. A brush of fingers as our hands parted was the last contact we had.
And I'm okay. I'm in love with life, with people, with everything. My memories will always be fond when I think of the Muse that whispered through my closeted dreams.
There are things we can never stop thinking about, things we can never get out of our heads. Some make us long for the past, and some make us antsy for the future. Either way, we are trapped in the expansive prison of the present. Today, you are the great reconciler. Today is the day that you mediate between yesterday and tomorrow. This betweenness is what we live in, it's what we flow through. We live when we forgive time and space and make peace with the reality of now. May we all find a way to ally our pasts with our futures. All will be clearer, all will feel safer, and there will be peace :)
Isn't it interesting that as one walks a step forward, one also steps back?
I move forward in school, and I get wrapped up in redefining aspirations and life goals.
I move forward in spirit, and I encounter more natural and familiar worship.
I move forward with friends, and I wish that I was better to those who have come and gone.
I move forward in music, and I learn to trust my spaces and limitations.
I went to Provo High's GSA meeting today. For an hour, I was back in high school again. I think its funny that I felt bathed in nostalgia, although I've only been out of high school for two years. I was so impressed by them. They were smart and funny; much more put together than I was when I was in high school. Things are different than they were for me, and it shows. My point? Things and places change quickly, and there's no guarantee that time will treat you fairly. Better keep moving forward.
I move forward, out of the closet, and I step into my home. It always feels like I'm going back to something I knew, when I go up and further in. The recognition and the familiarity and the nostalgia tug at me when I'm most content, and that's how I know that I am in the right place.
I'm supposed to be at work tomorrow at 5... but the honest truth is that I'm sick and I can't sleep.
So here I am.
Thank you to everyone for your kind messages and support. It's been a tough transition, coming out to Dad. The Good is that I am officially out to the world. The Bad is the "hate the sin, love the sinner" sentiments that I receive from home feel a lot more like rejection.
It's as though any righteous thing I have ever done doesn't mean a thing anymore; I am an apostate. Also, my spiritual confirmations that God wants me to be gay and marry a man come from a source that is not God, since the path I choose is in opposition to Church policy. At least, this is what my Dad tells me.
Sure, I expected this reaction, but I thought as his son he'd believe me. I thought he would believe that I am trying to do the right thing, that I am walking in faith. But he believes that I have been deceived.
I honestly do love my Father, believe me! I am just disappointed that his perspective is so locked.
Here is why I am so disappointed: What I have always admired in the Mormon religion is its collective, divine imagination. Mormons embrace creativity and are inspired by fantastical narrative. I think this is why so many members have an affinity for fantasy and science fiction. It must have something to do with the goal of becoming gods... We all get to thinking about how we would make things if we could craft worlds. It might also have to do with our belief that all things that are temporal are also spiritual. While we certainly aren't animists, we do believe the divine is everywhere, that God's spark is everywhere. There is a thrill to igniting that spark, and to watching the world around go up in divine flame... Mormons know this well.
The imagination is, however, limited in Mormon orthodoxy. I'm not to think past the prophets. Sure, I am to have the Spirit confirm their teachings to me, but that is the only option I have. I should study, pray, confirm and obey. At least, that's what I was told to think growing up, and its certainly the impression I get when I listen to others speak of the prophets here at BYU.
But... is that what the prophets are really asking us to do? Are they really saying, "Hey, if you don't believe me, talk to the Holy Ghost! Then you'll know I'm right!" Or... as I like to think... is the invitation to try the words of the prophets an admission that they might be... wrong? Or at least, not in full alignment with what God wants for me? Is this invitation a nod to Christian liberty, or am I just fantasizing?
Every path is as unique as the person who walks it. I'd like to think the words of the prophets are conduits to God; the way we ponder and wrestle with the words we receive draw us closer to The Truth. The Way, The Truth, The Path... Universal symbols that everyone hopes to understand. I'd like to think that my elders, especially those called to be special witnesses of Christ, could give me sound advice on how to find meaning in such symbols.
Its interesting to note that I can feel my insides cringe a little when I admit that the prophets are sometimes wrong. I know many people who would take away my Mormon card right now. Honestly, I'm not a huge Boyd K. Packer fan, and I get a little antsy when we start talking Bruce R. McConkie. People around here are appalled when I admit these things. Seriously! One of my friends let out an offended little noise at my confession, and said, "We love all the Apostles, Elliot!"
Haha! Actually, I agree; I love them all. Like grandpas. But that doesn't mean that I have to agree with everything they say.
And really, thinking for myself is where my adventure begins. Before I came to terms with my sexuality, I swept things that made me feel uncomfortable under the rug. Anything that set off my inner alarms was quickly quieted, and I locked it up in a place in my brain that I don't go to often. Now, I embrace my uncomfortableness, my awkwardness, and my questions. Why? Because they lead me to good places: the still waters, the throne of God, the home I want, just to name a few.
Some of our most important conversations with friends are the ones where we are most vulnerable; where we admit our uncertainties and fears, and we comfort each other.
My most important conversations with God are the ones where I tell Him how much I don't know, how much not knowing sucks, and how much I'm really trying my best with light I've been given.
Honest. Vulnerable. Complete and Whole. There is a lot of self to be found in the dissonance. I remember that resolution can only be as sweet as the dissonance before is terrible. Indeed, I feel that is the glory of God.
Ah, forgive me, that almost makes me sound like I am mentally abusing myself. What I'm really trying to express is my love for this journey. I realize my thoughts are scattered tonight... but I feel grateful and blessed: So I write :)
For awhile now, my Dad has been wondering if I am gay. Tonight, he finally sent me an email in which he expressed his concern for me as I continue to navigate what it means to be Gay and Mormon. I officially came out to him tonight, and here is what I wrote:
Thanks for the note Dad, I really do appreciate it.
I didn't know when the best time would be to tell you, but I guess since you have been thinking about it already I will be honest: I am gay.
But I imagine it isn't really a surprise. From all my challenges and trials I have faced, you probably wondered, as I did, why I was so different. You cannot imagine the peace I felt when I finally accepted this piece of myself.
I'm still committed to God, and I am still a spiritual person. I am still Mormon :) It's unfortunate that I even have to come out and say that I still love God, but it's the tragic truth that people believe that one can't be spiritual and gay. I just want to let you know that I have faith and I am gay, and many of my friends here at BYU find ways to be spiritual despite the homophobic atmosphere we live in.
The truth is, this atmosphere and people can be stifling, and it is exhausting to find truth and acceptance here. It's hard to feel the Spirit when your afraid someone will judge you for being who you are, for being honest.
Dad, I want you to know that I have felt the Spirit confirm the divine nature of my sexuality. I have felt God's love for me as a gay, Mormon man. I have brought before God, in prayer, my decisions. I want to marry a man, and God condones my decision.
I believe the Law of Chastity applies to all sexualities equally. I believe the prophet's words when they speak as mouthpieces of God, and not as men. I believe Christ's Atonement is sufficient for my mistakes. I believe that God's law is love.
This isn't about sex, or even sexual urges. This is about true love that God wants everyone to have. I don't believe that falling in love with another man and seeking to build a family with him as equal partners is a sin. My desires are righteous, and I know that.
I realize that I am not in full alignment with what the Church teaches today. But I'm doing the best I can! How do I reconcile what the Church teaches, and what I know to be right and true? This weekend I attended a conference called Circling the Wagons. It was sponsored by Mormon Stories, and was focused on discussing what it is like to be Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender in the Church. We talked with each other, encouraging each other to find truth and follow the Spirit.
I bore my testimony at this conference, and here is what I said: "I just want a home. I want to come home, to be home. By home, I mean the peace and security of God's love that I know is God's true church." I want to belong here in Mormonism, because I love it! I recently talked to my stake president, Dad, and it is very clear to me that because of my feelings, I am a second rate citizen in this Church. If I were heterosexual, I would not have been humiliated like I was, nor would I have been as disturbed by what I heard in that meeting. But I know that I am a Son of God, and I will be open and honest with everyone about who I am and what I stand for.
Things are changing in this Church that I so dearly love, Dad. I know a gay couple who were just married, who didn't have sex before marriage, and who are active Mormons. If they were a heterosexual couple they would have their temple recommends and be members in good standing. After they consummated their marriage, they were brought in for a disciplinary council. This council was to decide what to do with these men, who happened to be gay, but otherwise were in good standing with the Church. Were they excommunicated? Were they disfellowshipped? No. There was no decision; that was the official verdict.
The Church doesn't have revelation on cases such as these, but I believe one day we will. Variations of this story are happening all around North America, and I think it's exciting.
I apologize for such a long, disorganized response to your email, but I want to be honest with you. I was scared to tell you any of this because I know how you feel about homosexuality, but here are my thoughts. I love you very much, and I hope that we can continue talking about this.
Your Son,
Elliot
P.S. Check out "No More Goodbyes" by Carol Lynn Pearson. It's a fantastic book.
I hope I said all the right things. I hope this resonates with him. I hope for the best.
First off, I've recently been getting emails from wonderful people who enjoy reading my blog! Now, granted, some of it is spam, but most of it is truly heartfelt. To you guys, let me just say that I'm so glad that these ramblings mean something to you. This blog helps me stay strong, and helps me (I can't believe I'm saying this... curse you Disney!) stay true to myself. May it do the same for everyone who reads my sporadic postings.
First an inventory of my day:
1.) I wore the pants and the suit coat of two different suits as to put together another suit to sing in the BYU's Combined Choir for the prophet. Needless to say, I looked ridiculous, and, naturally, I ended up singing in the front row. (Go Elliot!)
2.) President Monson watched The Lion King, and quoted it over the pulpit today... (Go Disney?)
3.) Tonight, I am watching 30 Rock episodes and realizing how much Liz Lemon and I have in common. I don't know if I should be appalled or delighted. (Go Tina Fey!)
4.) After another annoying voice lesson, I am beginning to suspect that I'm not a true blue tenor, but a lyric baritone or something. This could throw a wrench into auditioning this month... (Yeah Wrenches!)
Now Second:
I'm excited for this weekend. I'm going to Circling the Wagons, a conference that will be centered on discussing the space where the Mormon and LGBTQ experiences intersect. It's a space where I live and thrive. It's also a space that many struggle to accept and feel comfortable with.
Come if you can, and invite everyone you can! We all need this.
And I honestly believe we really do need this. I hope for there to be a more accepted, loving space for Mormons who identify as LGBTQ. I consciously try to create such a space for me and my friends here at BYU. It's hard because both the Gay and the Mormon elements create walls, barriers. Both draw lines and say, "Here is where I can't compromise. Just accept me."
And I don't think that's going to get anyone anywhere. Both need to reach a place where understanding and non-judgement color the actions of both parties. I say that, and I realize that I'm still thinking in binaries. As if Gay and Mormon were polar opposites of a spectrum! They're not, and there are thousands of beautiful individuals who prove that. I'm hoping this conference proves that to everyone who hears about it.
I just want there to be a place where I don't have to be afraid or pressured this way or that because I am a Gay Mormon. I have that in USGA, truly, but USGA is only so big.... We can't reach everyone the group is meant for.
Just like my heterosexual brothers and sisters, my haven should be that place that Lehi saw in vision: at the foot of the Tree of Life, close to the Savior of the World. I should feel peaceful and safe in the Church, but I don't. And I know many who feel this way. Isn't that awful? That the our Savior's love can be tainted by our brothers and sisters ill-masked homophobia and "good intentions"?
I promised myself when I came out that in every way I could, I would bring myself closer to the truth. I hope for more understanding. I pray to be courageous, open and honest. I am delighted that I get to spend my weekend with others who are striving for the same.
Of late there has been a theme in my conversations with my friends. It kind of looks like this:
As a performer studying to be an even better performer, I hear all the time that you shouldn't pursue a career in acting, singing, movie-making, etc, if you don't really, really want it. It comes up all the time in theater classes, and thusly, my friends and I talk about it frequently. The other day, Pancake Girl (a.k.a. White Beyonce/Emma Stone) and I were once again talking over pancakes, and this very idea came up. Both of us are performers because we love it, but we don't have Rachel Barry syndrome. Neither of us ever said, "I WILL be an actor/singer. That's that." Instead we both just kind of exist and grow in the college theater atmosphere, waiting and preparing for what really want... to be parents.
Umm, but not with each other. Just clearing that up. We'd start laughing if we ever tried to make a baby.
So we don't want to be actors/singers so badly we could die. We just want family. I thinks that's why I'm so wishy-washy about being a performer, or being anything at all. I already know what I want, and now I'm not so ashamed to admit it.
As I have mulled this over and expressed my feelings to friends, I have felt very content with what I am feeling. If you have thoroughly stalked (erm, I mean followed) my blog, you've probably noticed that I have changed my life goals, especially my career-oriented ones at least one thousand times. I know there is nothing wrong with that; hell, I'm in college! This is what I'm here for. But I think I have been beating around the bush, dancing around what I really want. And now, I feel quite distinctly that I've hit the target: I want to be a householder/homemaker/stay-at-home dad.
Whatever word you want to call it, I think you get the picture. I used to be ashamed that this is all I wanted. I've been told all my life that I need to be ultra-ambitious. I have felt obligated to sap myself dry. I feel that what I have been taught in school, Sunday or otherwise, is to never settle for being the stay-at-home parent, and as a man, be ashamed for wanting that. But when my thoughts wander in class, they wander to the home I will create one day. And I am encouraged, because I know that I will a be great father. I know I will completely give myself to my family because I can feel myself growing and changing... preparing, I guess, to take on such a role.
In what I find to be a strange, yet rewarding shift in mind set, I have come to deeply empathize with Mormon women here at BYU. The pressure is on to get married and have a family, then stay home full-time to take care of their children. I recognize that as exactly the plan that I want for myself. It makes me smile to think that I have finally found an LDS life path that resonates with me, and it is gendered to be a woman's life path. It disgusts me that I can still feel a little bit of shame for wanting what I do. And I wonder why it lingers. Perhaps I still feel like I have to prove my masculinity, and I am afraid of subverting it. I know that isn't what I'm doing by accepting this... I'll keep working on that.
Now, I don't plan on waiting around for my white knight (*insert Kristin Chenoweth solo here*). I didn't come to BYU to get married. I have a life right now, and it's mine to spend on the things that matter. It's just comforting to know that I actually do feel called to be something when I grow up. I'm going to have a fantastic career in the field of fatherhood.
And I am looking forward to it.
P.S. Still holding out for David Archuleta; Keeping my fingers crossed :P
I wanted to write you a letter, because I thought I should let you know how I am doing these days. And by "doing these days," I mean how I am feeling and what I am thinking these days. You like to know of me because you care for me, this I know. So let me describe to you, in no particular sequence, what it has been like to be in my condition for the last few weeks. I slit open the proverbial wrist of my life and let the blood flow. May it congeal into sentences of crystal clear expression, and into absurd (yet fitting) metaphors.
Do you know what it is like to be a heartbreaker, apronkid? I do not boast when I state that, in fact, I am a heartbreaker. I am quite ashamed of it really. I find it terrible that two can be in a relationship, and one will feel heaven, and the other will feel hell. I have felt hell apronkid. Not hell in the sense that the heaven-feeler was a mean-spirited and ugly person. No, he was quite the contrary. The hell is to know that you are not right for one another and to feel the impending responsibility of confessing your feelings to the heaven-feeler. No matter how they might grow, no matter how beautiful they are now, you know that your path is not theirs. How do you let someone know that they are wonderful, but not for you? I don't know how to dry those kind of tears apronkid. And maybe... those are the kind of tears that shouldn't be dried.
It's like putting together a puzzle. You yearn for the piece that completes, and find one that seems to match every groove and notch. You touch it, feel it, know it and love it. It is the one, until you try to fit it. And when it doesn't fit, it hurts immensely. Apronkid, I can't toss those pieces aside; they're still mine in some way, so I keep them in a special place. It's a place I can never forget, because it pricks my memory with the most ordinary things: songs, notes, places, and yeah, even foods.
That's what it's like to be a heartbreaker, dear. All attention is received with apprehension these days, because I don't think I'm big enough. These things hurt. Bittersweet always. I've heard it said that a heartbreaker is who he is because the heart he carries is broken as well. Is mine? I don't know.
On another note, I don't plan on going to Elder's Quorum anymore. I don't know if you go apronkid, but my quorum feels to dangerous to be in. It's a world of Black & White, and it feels fueled by hatred. Hatred for the other and the different. War seems to be the only option there. It's funny; we talk in Elder's Quorum about the "attack on the family." But who is attacking whose family? I feel attacked in there, and I will endure it no longer for the sake of my own sanity.
And you know what apronkid? The mission doesn't seem to be an option any more. As a gay man, I'm held to a different standard than a straight one. In the eyes of the Church I've loved, I still might be a threat to other straight men. I might even be a pedophile, apronkid. I am a second rate citizen in those eyes. The paths I've walked down, any straight man would be able to explore and return with their head held high. The Church would have me, for doing the same, bow my head in shame. "God loves you, but we have no place for you. Repentance, as we define it, does not apply the same way for you." And why, apronkid? Because I'm gay, and it shows in how I've acted. It shows in my triumphs and my failures, and colors my life in the shades that matter. But I'm not allowed to thrive in all the ways that matter to Mormonism without causing friction, apronkid. I will not be treated like this.
As you can see, life is difficult at the moment. It feels heavy sometimes. There are genuine experiences that have shaped me forever, and it seems the price of lessons learned are memories of abandoned homes. That probably makes no sense to you, but it feels in that way apronkid.
Know that there is good here too. There is plenty of song, plenty of laughter, and plenty of friends who care. There are genuine smiles and hopes for the future. How far the happy things carry me is proportional to how much I acknowledge the shadows of these things. So here they are.
"Life is supposed to be pleasant." - Brain Stokes Mitchell
I actually heard him say that. There are plenty of other well-known figures out there with like thoughts and ideas.
I won't even bring up 2 Nephi 2:25. That has all sorts of baggage that I don't feel like thinking about right now.
The honest to goodness truth is that I have burned out. Again. I live my college education semester by semester just to make myself sick with worry. My interest in things is diminishing fast. I am extremely tired. And I'm patriotic; yes, I actually meant that. You see, America runs on exhausted, dying people working themselves way too hard. We applaud it. And right now, that truth is what's making me sick. It's tear-worthy.
I don't even have the energy to engage myself spiritually right now. The prayers remained caged in my chest, because they have no where to go. I wouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning if it weren't for the fact I had to turn in a paper today...
And here's the real kicker: no one here is going to try to stop me from doing what I'm doing. Here at BYU, I would be hard pressed to find one man who hasn't listened to the Priesthood Session of the last General Conference. You know what we laughed at and applauded at that Conference? The fact that an exhausted President Spencer W. Kimball collapsed in his chair from burnout and all he could think about was some damn meeting he was attending. A meeting that (probably) in the grand scheme of things meant very little in terms of spiritual gravity. Mormons will worship leaders who sacrifice their health because they "love God." Doesn't it make sense that is we love God, we as His children would treasure the gift that are our bodies? To use a time tested Mormon analogy: Our bodies are temples. We don't let people run the temple until it's nothing but a pile of refuse.
But that's just the place I'm in now. It isn't just the Mormons; it's America.
But I am so done right now... with practically everything. Not living, however; I have a distinct disinterest in ending my own life. What troubles me is that this happens every semester. I pay money to jump hoops until I fall flat on my face. It's sick! As one who has recognized this trend in his life, I have the opportunity now to decide what I'm going to do with this. Are there things I'm not cut out for? Yes. Is college one of those things? Maybe.
Or maybe that's the entirely wrong question: Is BYU the wrong college for me?
Huh. I have no clue.
I'm writing all this to solicit advice. Maybe I'm calling on another Army of Enablers to fight my battles for me, but I need some honest experience to shape my own thoughts.
There are a bajillion ways to get through this life. The best decisions I have made? I don't really know until I can look upon them as one has moved further up and in. Here and now, all I can do is breathe in the space I'm in and admire the signs and trinkets that people have left behind. Where they crossed, I cross now, but I don't know how to do it.
Some sentences are egregiously, monotonously, atonally... long (in life).
A sentence that I've been penning for the last two decades finally has been concluded.
Not with this: !
Or this: ?
Or even my favorite, this: ...
I've ended the sentence with a quiet, but very meaningful "." .
Period. Is there anything that, when pressed upon a piece of paper, has anymore finality?
No.
Presently, my life finds me in that gap between sentences. It feels like I am jumping over a void, from the period I have placed to a new letter, a new beginning.
The sensation that churns in me is something akin to dropping, but more exciting. It is a rising fall that is electric.
"What's carrying me over the gap?" I wonder. As I reflect in this blank space, I'm hoping for a bold, capital letter. I want something big that I can shout to the world.
I've been thinking a long time about writing a post about why I want to serve a mission.
I've wanted to write a post about this mainly for selfish reasons; I've wanted to put my thoughts out into the open where they could crystallize into something definite and describable. And I admit, that I've wanted these thoughts to crystallize into something defendable as well. I feel constantly attacked for wanting to serve a mission, and it's no ones fault for that except my own perceptions. I have friends that love me and care for me and want the best for me; there are no words to describe how much I appreciate that. Thank you to all who are honest with me. Really :)
The best way I can describe my desire to be a Mormon missionary is pretty odd, so just stick with me for a second. The desire... it's like honey. It's golden, rich, and sweet. It's attractive and remedial. It helps me find my voice when I'm sick, and makes even the dullest and bland of what life has to offer vibrant and meaningful.
But sometimes, the desire (the honey) is no more than the sugary vomit of mindless workers, who obey without question the whims of their superior, their Queen. With a waft of her pheromones, the workers trail off to find more flowers, more to suck up and vomit when they return home.
I want my desire to be more than vomit. I want the honey to be good and real. I've heard it said that, "Honey is the only food that never spoils." I read it in my high school agenda once. I want my desire to be that kind of honey, to be truth. I want it to be unspoiled. I want the truth to never spoil.
Does that make sense? I hope it does.
As you can see, it's hard for me to put into words why exactly it is I want to serve a Mormon mission. I can tell you this much: I want to find something. I want to find a reason. I want to give people tools for building better lives. I don't have to baptize people, and I don't have to convince people that Mormonism is the only way to get to heaven. What I do feel driven to do is to seek to empower people. People can find their own answers, and people can live beautiful lives without ever knowing all the answers. I think that's one of Joseph Smith's most poignant legacies: Every person is has the privilege of seeking and finding their own answers.
So here are five different things I think about when I think about serving a Mormon mission. Hopefully, each can capture the reasons for my decisions in a way that makes sense to you.
Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides
I loved this movie. The message that I heard when I saw this film was this: There are only two things in this life worth living for and they are "loving" and "thriving." Immortality means nothing if one can't find a reason to thrive or to love. This movie makes me think of the word "vibrant." I want to help people be vibrant!
Tarantulas on the Lifebuoy (Thomas Lux)
Watch this. Please, please watch this. This poem is as close as I can get to describing what real love is. This is the sweetest love, to take that which is seemingly ugly and scary and recognize its beauty. There are seemingly ugly and scary people in this world who are not ugly or scary. They are NOT; they just need someone to reach out and love them. I firmly believe when Christ said to not judge others, he was saying,"No one is past the point of no return." In many ways, I am a tarantula that fell in the swimming pool, and the only way I've made it out is because someone gave me a chance by tossing a lifebuoy in the swimming pool. I will never pass up the opportunity to do the same for someone else. Ever.
Hair (Lady Gaga)
This is a gorgeous arrangement. "I've had enough, I'm not a freak..." Man, you know how many times I've wanted to get up in Sacrament Meeting and just yell that line? This song, to me, speaks more of our beauty and uniqueness than Gaga's "Born This Way" does. Something that makes me beautiful and unique is this feeling in my gut that there is something bigger than me. I feel in the pit of my stomach, in the moments when my mind is most clear, that there is something out there worth loving, and that humanity is worth saving. And maybe it's my imagination, but frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. Some of us live in our imaginations (*cough* Lady Gaga), but does that make anything I'm doing less real? No, not really.
Thinking of You (Katy Perry)
I... can't explain this one. Maybe you can, but I don't get it. Something about the emotion in this piece makes me think of everything I want to do with my life and more. There's just something romantic about being killed in action, or at least in the idea of it anyway. To feel something as strong in unbearably real as this... maybe that's what I'm looking for. Life in the Raw, if you will.
The Book Thief (Markus Zusak)
The story of a little girl as told from the perspective of Death. Love, in its simplest form, is a rich, complex emotion. Love is something I have felt whenever I have felt that I have given people hope. I don't want to give people hope that someday things will be better. I want to give people hope that things can be better now. You've just got to get the ball rolling, you've got to break past the unexpected stasis, and put on a brave face :)
Maybe I'm naive. Maybe I'm an idealist. But how is any illusion shattered if we don't live in it fully, if we don't live in it completely just once? My life experience has taught me that things are not cut and dry. Things are not "this" or "that," they're more of a conglomeration of the two. Some things are unknowable, and that's where my faith plays its most important role. I don't know how long I have to live. I don't know if I'll ever make the difference I dream of making. I just know I will die trying. I am my hair. I am thinking of you.
Does that make sense? I hope it does.
He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often, and loved much; who has enjoyed the trust of pure women, the respect of intelligent men, and the love of small children; who has filled his niche, and accomplished his task; who has left the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of earth's beauty , or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others, and given them the best he had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction. - - - Bessie Anderson Stanley
1.) I finally remembered that if I wish to leave the gym, I should pull on the gym door and not push. (Success!)
2.) I am watching too many ghost hunting reality TV shows in my spare time. (I woke up my brother early this morning angrily yelling "Get out of my house!" in my sleep. Maybe I should be a professional exorcist?)
3.) I made my own Mormon coffee this morning, and have decided I'll drink it. Always. (Hot water + Roma + Coke Zero = Delicious. Don't knock it 'til ya try it.)
And it came to pass that I said unto them that I knew that I had spoken hard things against the wicked, according to the truth; and the righteous have I justified, and testified that they should be lifted up at the last day; wherefore, the guilty taketh the truth to be hard, for it cutteth them to the very center. (2 Nephi 16:2)
Well, here is the truth that I see:
Yeah, I know these couples are famous, and who knows what actually happens in famous people's lives. What I see in these pictures are symbols of this truth: that romantic love between people of the same sex is real. It isn't a counterfeit love. It isn't a mockery of love. These people are enjoying each other; they aren't sitting around pointing fingers at straight couples and chatting about what a blast it is to mimic their marital bliss. No, gay couples don't do this; they're too busy loving each other in relationships that are real and in relationships that last.
I like this letter posted here. I like to imagine that things ended up differently and that they would have lived long happy lives together. Maybe they would have even grow old together on a porch somewhere in some little town holding hands and things. I get a twinge of sadness every time I read that letter.
And there it is. It makes me think of another scripture, actually:
Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them. (Matt. 7:20)
If it is true that truth is hard for the wicked, then what am I to think of those detractors who oppose gay marriage or even those who believe homosexuality is a choice? If it a choice, does it matter? By the fruit that I observe, that "choice" seems to be good one for many, many people.
Perhaps it is hard to understand for some, but that's why it's important to be vocal about these issues. Whenever God had something important to say to his people, he sent someone to be vocal, someone to shake up the status quo. Someone who had the balls to get on top of towers and walls and just say something.
Random fact of the day: I really want a tobacco pipe and rosary beads. I don't really want to smoke, but I just want to have a pipe around when I read and stuff. I only kind of sort of want to engage in meditative prayer... but I want to try it to see what it feels like.
But anyways, apronkid. Did I ever explain why I used this name on my blog? The name has to do with two things: 1.) The apron stage, or the apron of the stage and 2.) The apron that you where when your cooking or painting.
The apron of the stage is what juts out past the curtain. It's certainly the closest to the audience, and I think performers naturally feel more vulnerable there than anywhere else on the stage. What I post here I do intentionally in an attempt to step away from my comfort zone and admit things that I habitually hide from people. More often than not, I feel like nothing more than some dysfunctional kid trying to be normal. It takes conscious effort to pull out of the perspective and say "hey, you are who you are! it's okay." That's what I try to put out here: those odd dysfunctional type emotions and thoughts so I can sort through them and make them into something. You know this is the most effective journal I have? I think it's because I refuse to blubber here and talk about how depressing my life is haha, which is something I did when I wrote my life down in books. By presenting myself to an audience on a website, I am put in a position where I feel like I can be accountable to myself for what I say. Kids say lots of silly things. On this apron stage, it is me up here on deck and you down in the audience. You don't have to say anything, just know that your being there helps apronkid out :)
I feel a little silly about the second reason I used the name apronkid. When it comes to jobs that I've worked, I feel like I've always had to wear aprons. I wore an apron at the pottery store. I wore an apron at the smoothie place. I wear an apron at the bakery. I have a particular talent for making messes, so my aprons are always pretty grubby after a day's work. Yet every time it's the end of the day and that apron comes off, something magical happens. I peel off my disgusting apron and voila! I'm clean! There's nothing like it. I can hold that stained piece of clothing in front of me and say "wow, what a mess. i don't have to wear it anymore." And then I can just throw it in the hamper. No sweat. I can walk away clean.
And I can do that here on this blog you know? Everyday I have this apron on, and I muck it up with all the thoughts I'm thinking, dreams I'm dreaming, and stuff I'm stuffing. Then, at the end of it all, I can sit down on my computer and write it out. I walk away cleaner, happier, and as a more purposeful kid.
Kids need that kind of a way out because they have a tendency to muck everything up too. They're clumsy with their bodies, unfamiliar with the mechanics of life. In a child's wake could be stains, spills, crumbs... fires even, I guess. Give a kid an apron though, and he doesn't have to be afraid of making a mess and the adults angry. When the deed is done, he can pull the apron off and there's one clean kid with all the experience and no worse for wear.
So that's the name. It's special to me, and I'll keep it around :)
I don't know if anyone else does this, but when I got running I usually end up playing the same song three or four times in a row. By the end of my run I've listen to like, five songs, hahaha!
There are a few songs I do end up listening to pretty much every run though, and it's kind of an embarrassing list. Naturally, I've decided to share them with you:
Hair (Lady Gaga)
Till The World Ends (Britney Spears, Nicki Minaj, Ke$ha)
Galaxies (Owl City)
These Are The Nights (Making April)
Love is Dead (The Lovemakers)
I usually play each song multiple times because I like to imagine what a music video would look like for each of them, and sometimes I don't like what I end up imagining so I have to start the song all over again and try again :P It's an amusing game to play while running!
I feel like I haven't posted anything weighty on here for awhile; I've just been posting silly little things that make me happy. That's okay, though! Something in my personality that I've started to pick up on is the fact that the creative in me tends to only manifest itself in times of stress/distress. That sleep sex issue I wrote about, like, my third post? Yeah, I ended up writing a one act musical during that time, when I felt the most bleak. I don't say that to boast, because the script is rather verbose, silly, and melodramatic (hmmm...), but I look back on it and see it as a way that I funneled all my black and frustrated feelings away from myself. It was kind of an emotional vomit. I know that's gross; but I feel there is a lot of cool art out there that is a result of the need just let something out and let it go.
So let things come and go as naturally as you can. I've felt in the past that I had this crazy obligation to the world that I needed to do something big, something that the world had never seen before. I don't think it was ambition because the drive never took me any where. It was more of this persistent, nagging feeling that I used to force myself into way too many projects and make myself miserable. I felt I owed something to the world, and I literally have made myself sick over the feeling before. Reflecting on it now, it was an awful cycle to be in! I'm trying to break that cycle.
I'd like to blame being Mormon, I really would, but I feel like that would be unfair. Sure, I think that I have used the same unhealthy self-motivation technique at Church. "I don't feel like reading my scriptures for 30 minutes every day, but I have to, I have to!" "I don't agree with what the prophet is saying but I have to agree, I have to agree!" I had to do the actions and I had to nod my head because I owed it to God. What? Really? That's what you owe to God Elliot? No God would appreciate empty actions or nods, at least that is my understanding. Again, I have been guilty of a very empty pattern that is spiritually unhealthy. And I've started to break that cycle too.
Anyway, these thoughts are all connected to and support a new trend in my life, and that trend is one of listening and acknowledging myself. No more projects that I don't want to do, and no more spiritual self-abuse. Life right now is listening to those inner cues, the sensation and motivation that is already in me. Maybe I will learn new ways to live; that'd be cool! I always enjoy a good discovery :)
I watched The Eagle last night, and I have to say, I really enjoyed it! It was a good film for various reasons, some of which were its camera work, sets, sounds and locations.
The locations were my favorite, I think; they were gorgeous! But lets forget about the northern highlands of Britain for a sec, because, um, well...
...Channing Tatum and Jamie Bell. Yes indeed :)
My enjoyment of this movie may or may not have been supplemented by this:
and this:
But I'm still not sure if they contributed to my liking this movie or not... Meh, maybe if I look at these pictures long enough I'll make up my mind.
*drool*
So yeah, anyway, Channing Tatum and Jamie Bell are the main characters of The Eagle, Marcus and Esca respectively. And I couldn't help but feeling that their relationship in this movie wasn't... well... platonic.
Like there was that time when they took turns being each others "slaves." (yeah, that happened)
And that other time when a half-naked Esca had to pin down a half-naked Marcus so the doctor could pull some fragments of metal out of his leg. (Marcus really liked it.)
And that time where they jumped off their horses and wrestled each other while they tumbled down a ravine because they were "angry." (think Princess Bride)
Oh, and let's not forget that other time that Esca caressed the wounded Marcus' face in the rain proclaiming that he would return to save Marcus. (like in Spider-Man, except sans kissing and being upside down... so actually, nothing like Spider-Man; scratch that.)
There is nothing like a good movie that plays for both sides. Seriously, my brother thought it was great and I thought it was great. He got the suspense, the drama, the guts and the adventure; and I got the suspense, the drama, the guts, the adventure and a new favorite fictional gay couple. Fantastic :)
Jenna Dewan everybody. Channing Tatum is married to her...
