Little Glass House.

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

Drool...

Be-cause I Am.

Be-cause.

We ask "Because?" to inquire: What causes a thing to "be" the way it is?

What are the causes that make me be? What are the causes that make you be?

My Be-causes:

Creation

Laughter

Performance

Friendship

Honesty

Romance

Words

Wonder

Wealth

Beauty

Your Be-causes:

???

How Are You (Am I) Doing?

Dear apronkid,

Hi.

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.

Sincerely,
Elliot

Burnout in an Army of Enablers.

At least the ninjas won't get me...

"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.