New Arrival

"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now..."

~ "Airplanes" by B.o.B. and the chick from Paramore

Ok, so here's how my plane flight when down:

There was a billion college students about to head out to study abroad on the plane. Like a billion. The chances of me sitting next to one were inevitable. Like, I was going to be set cuz I could make friends with some fun chick or some hot dude and enjoy my nine hour flight.

But... this is my ridiculous life and of course I would get the seat next to the four month old. His name was Van, and while one of the most adorable babes I have ever seen... dude, that kid can scream. And chose to do so for a pretty good portion of the flight.

I talked to his mom for a bit and explained to her why I was traveling to France, and of course asked her story. Which was interesting. She had had Van through artificial insemination and was taking him to meet his birth father in France. She didn't have a ring on her finger and was traveling alone (the older british man sitting on the other side of her was definitely NOT related).

So this interesting story (mixed with my re-reading of the Sex and the City novel during the plane flight instead of doing my pre-France assignment), got me thinking: In my head, this unmarried, single woman who was probably in her 30s, had decided to cut the man out of the picture and have a child on her own. Her biological clock went off and instead of hitting the snooze button, she decided wake up and face this morning head on.

When do we take our lives into our own hands? When do we decide that its time to lead the lives we want to lead regardless of what stipulations the world around have forced upon us?

I guess that's going to be my mantra or sorts for this France trip. Instead of just being scared of not fitting in or not enjoying myself, I'm just going to take this trip into my own hands and enjoy as much as I want it to be. Straight up.

Au revoir, America! Bonjour, France!!

"We made a deal ages ago... men, babies, doesn't matter... we're soulmates."

~ Samantha, Sex and the City 2

Long time, no see, blog world!

I felt it was about time for a return. I know I keep saying that I'm going to make a fantastic comeback to this blog... but I suck and haven't.

To be honest, there just hasn't been a lot that I can openly talk about on the blog. Or a lot that isn't just me moping about things. Because I've become really good at that: moping. And as Hamlet once asked, "To mope or not to mope? That is the question"... and I chose the latter.

But, why I return now, is I'm about to embark on a really great adventure. For the next five weeks I will be living in France. I was accepted into a dance program called MADE in France earlier this year and now will get the opportunity to travel to France. I will spend the first few weeks in Paris, doing research and taking technique classes and then travel to Melisey and continue work on a final project that will have a public showing at the end of my adventures.

I feel like Carrie in the series finale of Sex and the City... except I'm not going off to meet The Russian nor am I expecting my Big to race halfway across the world to tell me how much he loves me... but I am expecting a whirlwind adventure in one of the greatest cities on Earth and one of the most beautiful countries... and I the entire time? I get to dance. Yep. I'm going to dance in France. I can already feel my creative juices coming alive and the electricity about to pour out.

And that's why I return to my blog! To talk about my awesome adventures overseas.

It's interesting how Sex and the City always seems to nails me so well (Sex and the City/nailing pun too tacky? I'm trying to get back in my Carrie Bradshaw groove. I'll work on it). The reason I am most excited for France is that lately... I feel boring. I feel like my life has kind of hit this repetitive state of the same old, same old. I'm restless. I'm ready to escape and achieve something greater but keep running around in circles and drowning in disappointments. Sex and the City 2 premiered this week, and my girl Carrie is going through the same problems with Big. She is worried about becoming that old couple that sits around and watches TV... she's worried about compromising her exciting life and... settling. And to figure things out she goes to Abu Dabi. I guess France will just have to be my equivalent.

That's become my biggest fear as of late. Settling. In my career, in my love life... just in general. So what do I do? I runaway. I runaway from all the mundanity that is surrounding me and I escape to France for five weeks. And hopefully, through my art... through my exploration of sound and movement, I can find a fabulousness and sense of quest that will keep driving me forward. Maybe... I'll find what I'm looking for... or at least figure out what I'm looking for...

So, I've got my copy of Sex and the City and the newly released The Carrie Diaries to read on the plane flight, I've got my Macbook (ready to ingest all my fantastic, French stories), and I've got a feeling that this trip is exactly what I need to revitalize myself. Maybe I'll finally find myself on this trip.

I'm ready for a new world. A new environment with new people and new stories. I'm ready to swish things up.

P.S.

In other news, I've been recording an album. Kind of. It started off as a joke where I just wrote a bunch of pop songs and put in a bunch of pop music cliches, and then people started really enjoying the music... so with my garageband I've recording a pop/comedy album called Year of the Cougar. I just wanted to record a bunch of really terrible, but fun pop songs and people wanted to hear it so... it's on iTunes! So. If you can spare 99 cents click the link below and purchase my debut song, "Drop Dead Gorgeous."

Now the songs are supposed to be funny so don't be afraid to laugh, but also don't be afraid to make them your number one guilty pleasure... after all, being a guilty pleasure is more or less the purpose of terrible pop songs... Well, now that terrible pop songs have a purpose, it's time to find mine. Here I come, France!!

"Drop Dead Gorgeous" on iTunes:

Drop Dead Gorgeous by James Cougar Canfield - Download Drop Dead Gorgeous on iTunes

Sex and Another City

"You can turn painful situations around through laughter. If you can find humor in anything... you can survive it."
~ Billy Cosby

I'm halfway done with college. Isn't that ridiculous? I've finished my sophomore year and just think back on this year... on how many more songs I can relate to now. It's getting easier and easier to appreciate those songs about stupid boys, heartbreak, falling in love... It's getting easier to appreciate those songs about friendship... It's easier to appreciate how beautiful and powerful it is to be alone, and how sad and distressing it is...

I finished my last final on Tuesday, shortly after I tossed all my stuff into by suitcase and escaped. I'm currently typing at Diane's computer in Oklahoma. I feel like a foreign exchange student of sorts. I've left my college family in St. Louis to come live with and experience Diane's college family in Oklahoma.

As much as I love meeting new people, its made me miss everyone back in St. Louis right now. I see how Diane and her friends act with each other and miss how my friends and I act in St. Louis world. I was so desperate to get out of town, be done with this stupid year, I got out of there as soon as possible.

I've been desperate for this year to end. I just want everything that happened to me this year to go away so I can get back to normal. I want to have what I've learned and move on. It's not that simple, though. Just because a year ends, just because you escape town... doesn't mean everything else ends.

It's like when Carrie and Aiden broke up the first time and she got out of New York and went to Los Angeles. Or something like that...

You still think about him. You still wish things worked out. You still wish you were kissing him. You wish he would come home. You still wish the world would move a little faster so you don't have to wait. You're still trying to get over him and be ready for what's next. You're still putting together the pieces of your heart. You still think about him at 2 AM. You still think of him every time you here those damn songs...

You just have a different group of friends to talk about it to.

And sometimes in the midst of all this moping, you realize you're not talking about just your unboyfriend... in fact, you are talking about him a lot less than you ever have... and more and more about a new boy on the horizon. You're next love interest, the featured star of the next season of the TV show that is your life.

Too bad that TV show is on indefinate hiatus. It's interesting being on the side of the escape. The side that's left behind, while the other person escapes to a foreign world. It's hard being the one who has to wait while your new love interest goes on fantastic adventures in foreign places and all you can do is sit in your best friend's apartment and fantasize about your future together.

Look at me, calling this upcoming boy my love interest... We haven't even gone on a date together, I'm definately jumping the gun here... all we have is just endless hours of conversations and intimate messages... and butterflies. There are definate butterflies.

Next time I'm back in St. Louis I get to see him. He'll be back from his international adventures (which he is currently internet less... so really, all I really have is my fantasies, I don't even AIM...), I'll be back from my great escape...

I just took a break from typing this. Went into Diane's living room, sat in this papazan chair...
and then fell over.
It was like slow motion, the chair started leaning over and as I was halfway down, I realized...
There was nothing I could do.
And as I laid sprawled there on the ground, the chair on its side, and Diane, her friends, and my self cackling out of control.
I realized I couldn't be happier
and so thankful that there isn't an ounce of shame in my body.

Cuz for that moment
I forgot that I was waiting for this boy to come home
I forgot that I hated this past school year with a passion
I forgot that I feel really lonely when it's late at night
I forgot that I missed everyone in St. Louis

And I just laughed.
Fuck it. I'm having fun with my awesome foreign exchange family
in Oklahoma.

What. Up. :)

Underwater... over my head

"Back to life, back to sense, back to child, back to husband... you can't live in the woods."

~ "Moments in the Woods" from Into the Woods

It's been one of those weekends.

One of those weekends when the world around you suddenly turns on you. It's not the first of these weekends. And it's certainly not the last. These days... they're inevitable, inescapable. It's one of those weekends when suddenly the ice cracks in and you're underwater and drowning. You've finally done it, you've put too much weight on yourself, and the ground below has broken through...

And what's strange about these weekends, or at least this weekend, or at least for me... is that despite the loss of oxygen and the threat of suffocation due to drowning, you're not scared. I'm not. You know that eventually you'll regain composure and swim towards the surface. Or maybe, if you're lucky a good friend or lover will notice the crack in the ice, reach in, and pull you from your impending doom. 

There's a sense of hope. This hope keeps you from losing faith and allowing yourself to to become submerged. It's something I pride myself on. Maybe it's how I was raised, maybe its something that put inside me for a particular reason, maybe it's my religion, maybe it's just who I am: but I have the talent of optimistic hope, the kind of hope that carries you through anything, hope that in the darkest times, there's always a light at the end of it all. A boyfriend of mine told me that was something he really loved about me, that no matter what I believed everything was going to be okay. I have faith in love, life, people... and granted, there are times when I can become whiney, negative, and crabby, but deep down, through it all, I know that in the end everything is going to be just fine. If I believe in something or someone, they're going to pull through. No matter how deep underwater I get, no matter how far from the surface, I will emerge, I will survive and it'll be all right.

Anyway, back to my actual weekend and the occurrences... we opened the show Friday night... that was interesting. I don't know what it was, but I was off hardcore. I missed a line, people were missing cues, actors were yelling at each other... it just was OFF.

Following the show, our technical director and several of the cast and crew went out for pancakes at Uncle Bill's afterwards. I don't know why, but I was in a sensitive state and the normal fun teasing between friends actually hit a little harder than expected. I especially got upset when a certain company member silenced a sing-a-long of "No Scrubs." I think people who silence group sing-a-longs simply because they are Negative Nancy's and hate other people being happy are boring and lame and need to go home. Yes, I am feeling a little vindictive and probably acting a little immature. Yes, I understand that I probably sound like a 12 year old brat. It's been a long weekend... which is preceded probably an even longer week... I give myself official position to be ridiculous.

After Uncle Bill's, we went to a party, just started getting our drink, just to have the party broken up. Lame. Because the gang wasn't ready to go to bed, we decided to hang out on the balcony of my apartment building, drink so more, turn up the music, and dance around outside. It was a actually a lot of fun (except for a cameo appearance from the local party leeches who don't know quite how to take a hint, but even they can be fun sometimes. Or at least fun to watch). The night was saved. 

Well, kind of. There was an impending disaster that not even balcony fun could've helped. My phone decided become a tease. Yes, my phone was a tease. I have an iPhone and the screen decided to black out. When people called and texted me, the phone would still ring and vibrate, but because the screen had short circuited I couldn't answer... aka, my phone would lead me on and then blue ball me.... There was no way to get it to open up either. It was playing hard to get and I was on the losing side. 

I woke up earlier Saturday morning feeling terrible, I was nauseous and congested, and spent the morning teaching a dance my friend Elisabeth and I choreographed for the dance troupe we're involved with on campus, then headed to the Galleria to try and have my phone revived. It was a terrible morning. I felt completely and entirely disconnected from the world. I had to use facebook to get a hold of people who I had made plans with later in the day to let them know that I would be in phone surgery and could not make it. I felt like I was in the stone age. I don't know how people did it before cell phones. How in the heck did they stay in touch? Because my friends were all busy being connected with the world and having lives, I was forced to metro it to the mall, and of course, with my luck, I arrived just as my metro was taking off. I was stranded there for over 30 minutes waiting for the next train to come get me... and of course, I didn't have a phone to keep me entertained... thus, I was left with my bitter thoughts and people watching to keep me entertained (normally people watching would be a hoot, but today there was no one interesting... at all...) 

When I finally got to the mall, the wonderful Mac Store man was extremely kind and performed surgery on my phone. Sadly, he didn't make it, through but thankfully I have a warranty, and he simply replaced it. Phew! And then my hope kicked in and a silver lining appeared: I finally was by a bookstore and could purchase the books I had been meaning to buy for weeks now. Because my phone broke and I suffered that night and morning of total separation from the world, I now had a new phone and could buy the books that I had been desperately wanting to get! As I waited for my phone, I fb messaged Andrew about my not-so-hot day and the silver lining. I figured he would appreciate my positivity and also he's becoming my go-to-guy when things aren't going to so hot. He's a pick me up, always knows the right things to say, always finds something positive. He puts even my eternal hope and faith to shame. I didn't think it was possible.

The man at the bookstore probably thought I was an emotionally-destroyed, moping mess of a gay man who just got broken up... Why? My book selection was a little ridiculous: Sex and the City by Candace Bushnell (The book that inspired the series!), He's Just Not That Into You by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo (I saw the movie on Valentine's Day with Peter, it caught my eye in the store and I just HAD to get it), and The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (Diane has been recommending this book to me for ages and I finally got the chance to get it!) Now, if that book choice doesn't scream, "I'm a messed up, angsty, single gay man!!!" I don't know what does...

To treat myself after the phone ordeal, I went to the mall food court and grabbed a burger and cheese fries. As I ate, I pulled out Sex and the City and started reading. Right off the bat something struck me.  In the forward, Ms. Bushnell talks about what the book is really about, what it all comes down to: Why are we still single? And you know what Ms. Bushnell said?

"...why are we still single? Now, with a few years' perspective on the issue, I can safely conclude that we are single because we want to be."

Wait. What?

It's my choice to be single? It's my fault? And then my hope kicks in, I start coming with rational and reasons, anything to keep my afloat as her words sink in... that statement can't be about me, I'm only 20, I haven't experienced enough life or met enough men to have made the choice to be single... It's not my fault, it's the fault of stupid boys who can't commit that I don't have a long-term boyfriend... Circumstances that I can't control have kept me away from the person I really want to be with, that's not my fault or my choice... I can't control who I'm attracted to...

I continued reading.

Apparently for this edition, Ms. Bushnell added two new chapters into the book. One of the chapters finally gives the book a real ending... And then I read it... 

"...at last the book has a real ending, in which Carrie and Mr. Big break up. It's a  bittersweet ending- not just the end of Carrie's relationship with Mr. Big, but the end of her dream of finding the proverbial Mr. Big- a man who doesn't really exist."

Woah, woah, woah, Candace Bushnell.... Carrie and Big DON'T get together? And that's a good thing because Big, and any man we associate with the Big character, doesn't really exist? My world was shaken. After spending a majority of my time comparing myself to Carrie and hoping that my Big would come along... I'm supposed to believe that he's not real?

The rational and reasoning sets in again, my hope ... she wrote this ending for shock value... the Big and Carrie in book world are completely from the Big and Carrie of TV world... the ideal man, the significant other will appear... he will be ready to be with me years down the line, it can happen, my perfect ending can happen... Why does the world keep falling out from beneath me??

I set aside my confusion and distress, and continued reading until I got home and had to go to that night's Setzuan performance (it's actually great, funny read... besides from the aforementioned problem parts). 

That night's performance went a bit smoother than Friday's... and Sunday's matinee the cast outnumbered the people in the audience... And then I realized how much work I had put off this semester and how these final two weeks of the semester are going to kill me... and then reflected on how absurd the weekend was... and in an effort to forget all this, I pulled out He's Just Not That Into You and began reading.

I read the chapter, "He's Just Not That Into You If He's Breaking Up With You"... and began applying everything the book was saying to my previous boyfriend. And it stung a little. I could relate too well to these stories of people who desperately have hope that their boyfriend still really cares about them, that somehow they'll turn a page and return to you... That they would be the exception, not the rule. The book talks about how thinking your the exception to the rule is what gets you into the mess. You have to except that you are the rule and he's not into you, don't believe the stories of how miraculously the man changes and returns to the woman, or some act of magic brought the two people together... This isn't normal, you aren't the exception, the likeliness of this happening is...

Here comes the rational and reasoning... I can't apply this book, it's about men and women, my situation is completely different because I'm gay... I can be the exception, I'll prove them wrong... this book is for pathetic people and I really don't relate to anything they- 

And then I stopped rationalizing... and realized that was the point. That was Ms. Bushnell's point. That was the point of He's Just Not That Into You. Stop rationalizing and except it for what it is. That's the only way to have a healthy, successful relationship. Sometimes we hope, we hope beyond our wildest dreams that we will be rescued from drowning, but that's unrealistic... clearly, how can you be rescued when you were walking the ice alone? You can't expect a guardian angel to swoop in and you can't expect a man who broke your heart to love you again.

It goes against my eternal hope, it goes against my faith that things will work out... But maybe sometimes 'hope' and 'faith' blind us from what's really going on. Maybe eventually hope turns on us, and instead of thinking realistically, we fall into a sort of dream world where life is a fairytale... or in my case a gay version of Sex and the City. 

We have the choice to be single or not. We have the choice be with someone who is worthy of us. We have the choice to be honest with ourselves. We have the choice to drown, whether it be in hope or the world around us. We have the choice to save ourselves. We have a choice not to take the chance and walk on the ice... no, I have the choice...

And now I feel very cynical.

Or maybe this is just what reality feels like.

As I ponder these revolutionary thoughts, I can't help put listen to a song from the Stephen Sondheim musical, Into the Woods: "Moments in the Woods." At this point in the play, The Baker's Wife, who is married and just recently became a mother, has just had a tryst with a certain Prince Charming as she tries to escape of a bloodthirsty giant. In the song, she sings about how she can't believe what just happened, that a lowly baker's wife like herself could have just been with a prince... and that it's all just a trick of the Woods. People get caught up in the Woods, in the adventure, they forget about the world and instead fall into the fantasy... They fall in love with the moments, instead of the life that is made up by the moments. 

It seems like the world is sending me a sign... It's time to leave the woods, it's time to get out of the water. 

I can't do it, though. I can't accept that hope cannot exist and that there's no chance that maybe, just maybe I can find my Mr. Big, I can find my exception to the rule. 

I think about Andrew, and how eternally optimistic and hopeful he is, and how every time I'm upset he knows the right words to say to make me happy. There's something in that. That act of hope that keeps me going, that makes me cheer up and want to get over whatever is ailing me. Even stupid, small things... he gives me hope. And makes me happy. And happiness isn't a bad thing.

So maybe, hope can cause us to become disillusioned. It blinds us into believing the lies, and not just coming to terms with the fact that he's just not that into you. But it keeps up going. It keeps us searching.

In "Moments In The Woods," the Wife sings,

"Just a moment, one peculiar passing moment

Must it all be either less or more, either plain or grand

Is it always or? Is it never and?...

Let the moment go, don't forget it for a moment though

Just remembering that you've had an 'and' when you're back to 'or'

Makes the 'or' mean more than it did before

 Now, I understand and it's time to leave the Woods"

Maybe we can't find the exception, we can't discover how to rescue ourselves until we've experienced what the rule is like... And that'll make the exception even more prominent and worth even more.

In my confusion, in my cynicism, in my weekend, in my rant

I have to conclude...

One has a choice, one can either drown, or learn to tread water as they wait for someone to come rescue them from drowning...  or they buy a scuba suit with an air tank.

That way you avoid the risk of drowning, your self sufficient, you've taken proper precautions, and you can still wait for someone to come pull you out of the water... or your collapsing world... or your bad weekend.

I think I'm going to put my air tank on... and message Andrew. He'll know what to say. 

Electrons

"Don't laugh at me, but... maybe we could be each others' soulmates? And then we can let men be these great, nice guys to have fun with?"

~ Charlotte to the girls, SATC Season 4, "The Agony and the 'Ex'-tacy"

In my Playscript Analysis class, we are reading Arcadia by Tom Stoppard. In the show, a lot of mathematical mumbo jumbo is talked about that often goes way over my head. I'm not stupid, but mathematics is just well... boring to me. I think its incredibly impressive and I have respect for any person who can tackle the beast that is mathematics, but on a completely personal basis... I would just rather write about my feelings. Go fig. 

Anyway, we had presentations on different things mentioned within the show. We talked about Mandelbrot sets, Julia sets, chaos theory, and quantum physics. When we were on the topic of quantum physics, my friend and future roommate, Emily, mentioned a thing called string theory.

In string theory, it states that an atom can be split into two different parts, into two different electrons and then sent to either parts of the universe. Even though these electrons are stranded on either side of the great abyss that is the universe, they will be irrevocably drawn to each other, constantly searching to find each other, to bond, and to complete the atom.

Are we electrons? Scattered across the universe from the other half of ourselves, scouring all of the stars, planets, and meteors to find the tiny atomic particle that can complete us? 

When Emily told me about string theory, I instinctively replied with a fantasy filled sigh, romanticizing about how somewhere out there is a little electron that is drawn to me, ready to complete me. 

...but really... is there?

People spend their entire lives searching for their 'soulmates.' The person that they were designed for. But, are we truly designed to complete another person? Or is the idea of a 'soulmate' something someone once upon a time came up with to play pretend and convince him/herself that he/she isn't completely alone?

I think these scientists and mathematicians or whoever deals with these theories is on to something. My friend, Dani, and I were talking about this electron theory. Dani, a pre-med/biology/philosophy major, of course knew exactly what I was talking about and elaborated on this new theory.

She told me, that although the soulmate electrons are destined to be constantly pulled towards each other, on the journey to find 'The One,' the electrons are able to bond with other electrons, they bond with these electrons until they are done, take what they need, and move on continuing their search for their other half. 

So maybe we are electrons. In the big scheme of things, that's what dating is all about. You date, you find a person that your particles can match up with, you bond, and when the time has come to move on you do until you find the person you are meant to be with, the electron that allows you to complete yourself. Your soulmate.

I brought up the electron string theory to my friend, Andrew. Andrew thought the theory was interesting and then said something that really struck me, "You never really know who you 'missing electron' is, but you'll find out when you meet them." Now, I'm sure this wasn't the implied intention, but my overcomplicated, over-thinking began stirring like crazy. Do you know instantly when you meet your electron that they are the one? What if you don't realize that person is your electron until much later in time? What if it's too late?

I have an enormous fear. Probably the thing that worries me most about the dating scene. In my six years of electron adventure, I have already said 'I love you' to two separate boyfriends. Now, I'm an 'I love you' prude. I do not let those three words out unless I truly believe I am in love with a boy. So, already in my life, I have had two loves... how many more am I allowed? How many electrons are you allowed to bond with before all magnetic attraction is gone? Is it possible, as fear-inducing and hopeless as this may be, that eventually you run out chances to bond? You reach your 'I love you/bonding' quota??

Maybe someday I will run across my previous loves and realize that they are the electron that completes me... but for now I'm scared that I only have a few more good bonds in me before I'm toast. This is borderline ridiculous, seeing as how I'm only twenty... but...

It's come to a point in my life where people in my class, people who I went to high school with, my close friends are slowly entering serious relationships, becoming engaged, getting married, having children... the extreme pressure to keep up with these relationship overachievers is daunting. Suddenly, I find myself in a state of panic: Why am I not long term bonding? Should I be engaged? Is there something wrong with me? Have I missed my chance? Did I meet my electron and just miss the feeling, or did I feel it and give up on it?

And what makes this even harder, as a gay man, is the overbearing feeling from the community (or at least my generation), that monogamy is blasphemy, and hook-ups and one night stands are Law. There's fear of commitment. Gay men my age seem to not be interested allowing themselves to bond completely with another, but instead, find quick satisfaction and run, bouncing from one electron orbit to the next searching for the next fast fix. Of course, this is a generalization, there are guys out there who want commitment, but those electrons are far and few between and a little harder to find in this expansive universe. 

And then I remind myself... You're 20. You have plenty of time. Stop stressing. 

How can I when the fear of forever scouring the universe for 'The One' is constantly thrown in my face from every angle? When marriage is the IN thing, growing up is what expected of you, and finding your other half is a necessity... It's exhausting!

And what if...

Just... what if...

'The One' isn't a man at all. And the whole world has got it wrong. What if it's not a lover? Who says your missing electron can't be your best friend. In one of my favorite Sex and the City episode, Charlotte brings up the idea that the girls can be each others' soulmates and men are there to have fun with. My friend K.T. joked around her cat could be her soulmate.

In my book, a soulmate is someone who completes you, someone who will accompany you on this journey for the rest of your life. Maybe... we don't need boyfriends to complete us. Maybe we just need love. 

And after a day of stressing out over past boyfriends and this newly founded string theory, I decided to propose to Diane. I knelt down, extended my hand, and asked Diane to be my soulmate. She said yes. Thank goodness. 

So I will keep surfing through the atomic particles of the world and bonding. And maybe one of the electrons I find with turn out to be the right one for me, and we'll bond for a long, long time. Or maybe, I'll rediscover an electron that I've already bonded with and realize that we belong together. And no matter how much I freak over a quota on love, I know that I decide how many times I can say 'I love you,' I can bond with whomever I want and as many people as I want until I am good and ready. The possibilities are endless, and love is limitless. And should all these bonds fail, I know in the end, it doesn't matter. Because I have something better. Friends who love me, soulmates, like Diane, who will be with me through magnetic storms, and atomic fissures, or whatever the heck atoms have to go through.

Maybe, I'll find my electron, maybe I won't, maybe I already have, maybe he doesn't exist

And maybe it's the people that I hold closest to my heart.

Whatever the situation may be...

The possibilities are endless, and love is limitless. 

On matters of the heart and the head...

"It seems that when it comes to affairs of the heart there is a battle between what we know and what we feel... When it comes to relationships is it smarter to follow your heart or your head?" 

~ Carrie, SATC Season 3, "Easy Come, Easy Go"

Last night I started rehearsals for The Good Person of Setzuan by Bertolt Brecht. My college and a professional company are performing a joint production of it. I was cast as The Nephew, it's a small, but fun role.

In the play, three gods come to visit Setzuan in search of one good person. They come across Shen Te, a prostitute in the city, who is the only person that will house the gods for the night. They give Shen Te a gift of 1,000 silver coins in which she uses to buy a tobacco shop. Due to her kindness, the tobacco shop becomes overrun with free loaders and people who abuse Shen Te's generosity. In desperate attempt to keep herself afloat, she disguises herself as her male cousin, Shui Ta. Unlike Shen Te, as Shui Ta is cold and harsh. Shui Ta turns the small tobacco shop and the free loaders into a major factory and mistreated workers. 

During the show, Shen Te falls in love with a man, Sun. She is deeply and truly in love with this man and they become engaged. As Shui Ta, she discovers Sun is a terrible man, who plans to abuse Shen Te and isn't really in love with her. Shui Ta turns Sun away, but the moment Shen Te returns to her female self, she takes him back in a moment... because she loves him and cannot resist.

Besides dealing with an intense split personality problem, Shen Te's plight brings up something that hits close to home. It's the ultimate battle. Do we follow our heart or our head? Are we cheating ourselves by ignoring the whims of our hearts? Or are we idiots for giving in to instinctive, powerful impulses and not thinking twice about the situation? 

Why do we love someone with all our heart when we know in our head it will hurt us in the end?

Before rehearsal today, I asked several of my girlfriends who are in the show with me this question. My friend Lindsey responded with something along the lines of, "I could spend hours talking with you about this... Why do we love the bad boy?" ...why do we?

Here's a personal story about a previous boyfriend... We had broken up. And it took until three weeks after the break-up before I stopped making myself believe this boy was 'The One'. I honestly believed this boy, this boy who broke up with me  was the man that I was meant to be with for the rest of my life. I believed it through the entire relationship. When I first laid eyes on him, I thought to myself: "I'm going to be with this boy no matter what." And maybe a little tiny piece of my heart still thinks there maybe a chance that he's 'The One'. I'm not one to ever give up on anything. Anything is possible. But I'm going to store that little piece far away and hide it and move on. 

We had been broken up for almost three weeks, yet I still clung desperately onto the idea that we were going to get back together and this was only a break.  My heart was screaming, "BE WITH THIS BOY." I felt stupid and ridiculous, for not being with him. I thought the break-up was a dumb idea. Why shouldn't two people be together who care about each other and love each other?

Peter, as he will be called via this blog, didn't feel ready to be in a relationship. We had gotten very serious, very quickly. We said 'I love you' only a couple weeks into the relationship, had already talked about wedding plans and our lives after college. Now, I meant it when I told him I loved him. I honestly believe I was truly in love with this boy. And I believe he loved me back. 

So, Peter was everything I wanted. He just wasn't ready for a relationship. Which is completely understandable. It wasn't fair to me, someone who is ready to be in a completely serious, long-term relationship to expect that of someone who is clearly not ready. 

I understood this in my head. Yet, my heart... damn that stupid thing... just kept wailing like it had been. "GET BACK WITH HIM!!! FLIRT WITH HIM! BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH" And why shouldn't I be with him? We made each other laugh, we cared about each other deeply and wanted to stay in each others' lives post-break-up, our chemistry is off the charts...

It just wasn't the right time. We were at two different places in our lives. And on the grand, powerful relationship scale, timing can sometimes outweigh everyone of those fabulous, good things.

I'm sure it would be hilarious to watch the self-battle occur. To see me jump back and forth between what I know is right and what my heart is feeling. I probably look really cracked out, schizo, and craazzzzzyyyy. 

But I wanted him. With all my heart. Even though I knew if I kept pushing, the heart that wanted him so badly would only be broken in the end.

 

Sometimes it takes something big, straight forward and powerful event to make you come to your senses. Peter telling me that we shouldn't talk for awhile and the argument that followed was that event. Finally my head and heart were able to sync up. Why continue to hurt myself, and this boy that I care very much about by making our already complicated break-up/relationship even more complicated? So, my heart gave in, it disconnected itself from the situation... I had to move on. 

I was Shen Te clinging to Sun. I was clinging to something that was only going to stress me out and cause more damage and eliminate any sort of further relationship. I ignored reason, I ignored my Shui Ta... 

Why??

It's hard when the world perceives choosing your mind over your heart as a terrible, horrible thing...

A girlfriend of mine  has a boyfriend who is a complete tool. Yet, although the rest of the world can see what badly he treats her, she still loves him. I have had several friends who's significant others have cheated on them, yet they still remain with them. I even know a group of lesbians who are all going through this same sort of drama.

Are we addicted to the drama? Is it because of good sex? Or are we scared of being alone? Why lose the love we have now? So what if its not the best, at least you have something.

As terrible as these things sound... they're true. I have a actually told myself before, "It'll be okay. It's bad now, but it's better than being alone." 

And maybe it's not about the fear of being alone. Maybe there is something exciting about the possibility of having your heart broken. Mandy Moore recently released a song called, "I Could Break Your Heart Any Day of the Week" in which she lets her love know... she could smash his heart anytime she wanted to. The chance is enthralling. There's danger, there's passion. And people love that stuff. I know I do. I love fighting with my boyfriends. I couldn't be with a boy who doesn't call me out on my shit. And when we fight (at least with my previous two relationships), the fighting made me want them even more.

Am I messed up? I don't think I'm alone. I think there's a lot of people out there who are dealing with the same thing. It's not wrong. I don't think so (I hope not... ehhh... haha). 

 

There's a point when the game becomes to much. The excitement of the chase becomes more important than the safety and love between two people.

And a point when you are too worried about being alone that you stop loving yourself. 

Is that what it comes down to? Loving yourself? That's too easy. Isn't it??

For such complicated questions concerning matters of the heart and head, that answer seems like a cop out...

Love myself... there's something in this... At least, for me with Peter, it was losing stability, the idea of being in a relationship that kept me pining for him. After the break-up, I felt helpless. I forgot how to be single, how to stand on my own, how to feel okay with myself and, thus, the static cling began. But, I wasn't helpless. I was the same strong, independent individual I was before. I had lost a bit of myself. And I needed a good slap in the face to remind me that I'm a good person who doesn't need to depend on any boyfriend to help him through hard times. And so the process to learn to love myself again started... it's an epic journey... 

Being in a relationship is not about losing yourself. It's about two fully formed selves coming together and forming a even greater self, while never sacrificing any part of the two original selves.  Never should we sacrifice who we are for another person, instead that person should love you for everything that you are, and you should love yourself for everything you are too... 

When your heart is healthy and full of love, then its ready to make reasonable judgement on the love of another. A little cliche... I know... but I have a firm belief that cliche's are the most honest things in the entire world and there's a reason they are cliche....

Cliche or not... Loving myself? Easier said then done...

The distressing thing about Shen Te's tale and The Good Person of Setzuan is that in the end, nothing is solved. The gods come back, but don't set things right and clean up the mess that has been made. They simply tell Shen Te to have faith in humanity and her goodness and continue to live her life. She'll figure it out. And then they book it out of Setzuan on a cotton candy cloud.

I wish I had a cotton candy cloud. Stupid ancient gods...

And maybe the point of this cop out ending (similar to my 'cop out' answer of having to love thyself... ), is that it's up to us to figure it out. Or at least try...

And maybe... there isn't an answer...

There's just a heart

And a head

And a Setzuan prostitute with a split personality...

And a billion people who can relate

Let me begin...

My friends and I have a joke. We are each a character of Sex and the City. My friend, Diane, is Charlotte, due to her sense of romanticism, love and commitment. My friend, Katie, is Samantha due to her resistance against marriage and her ability to be a completely satisfied person single. No one is Miranda because we think she is a heinous hagbitch.

And I'm Carrie. I'm complicated, yet cautious; romantic, yet cynical; confused, yet headstrong. I watch Sex and the City and find Carrie knows my life. I identify with her completely and entirely. I'm a writer, too. It fits. My friend and I fit perfectly in our own little SATC world. 

I love when we get together and relate every happenings in our life to episodes of SATC, I love watching an episode and completely and totally identifying with everything those lovely ladies are talking about. Last summer, before the premiere of the Sex and the City movie, the three of us gathered together each night at one of our houses and had an SATC marathon. As corny and ridiculous as this may sound, it brought the three of us closer together. We were all back from college, all with stories to tell, all with new relationships blooming, and Carrie and the gang to get us going. We spent the nights gabbing about our love lives, nicknaming boys, talking about what makes each us tick and what we want from relationships. 

I have always been an extremely private person with my relationships up until about a year ago. I didn't like to tell the details about any happenings within my boyfriend and I's little world. I still try to remain as private as possible, but instead of hiding the facts from the world, I've learned that I have to share things. Why keep everything bottled inside when you have fabulous girlfriends to listen to your stories and help you through the worst of times and cherish the best of times? 

So, letting out these worlds to two of my closest girls was awesome. By the time of the midnight SATC Movie premiere we were tight, and felt so close to these ladies (both on screen and off). Throughout the movie, we couldn't help but gaps in unison, cry into each others shoulders, and grab onto each other's thighs when something fantastic (or something terrible) happened. We loved these woman on the screen as if they were a part of the posse, and I think we loved these fictional characters so much because they had pushed us to discuss, frankly speak, and open up about our lives to each other. They brought us together.

Since, Sex and the City has been an obsession with me. I love the idea about being open about sex, life, love, and saying, "Hey cutie pie! Listen! Someone out there can relate to you! Here's there story! Come cry, laugh, scream, and love with me!!" 

...and who says I can't be the person saying those things. Who says I have to stay private about my life when I have a fantastic/dramatic/ridiculous/absurd/wonderful life that other people might be able to identify with?

So I'm going to be Carrie. Well, a gay male version of Carrie. I want to write about my sex life, my love life, my friends life, my life. I want to let the world in on what its like to be the gay best friend and the stories that have to be told. Because, maybe, just maybe, there is someone out there who is going through the same thing and needs to know they're not alone. And maybe, by finally being open about these things in my life, I can finally start figuring myself out. 

I'm going to be straight up, I'm not totally doing this blog thing for the sake of helping others, but also for helping myself. There are so many things that are going on in my head, so many stories of bad boyfriends and good boyfriends, betrayal and love, companionship and hate, friendship and lust... I need to spill. For. Real.

So hopefully, someone will relate to me. I'm not Carrie, my life is probably no where near as fantastic and hers is, but I know I have something to say... so I'm going to say it. And maybe I'll figure me out. And maybe someone else can figure themselves out too.

These of the confessions of your gay best friend.

The answers to questions that people are to afraid to ask.

The one's that movies, books, and even other gay men are afraid to talk about.

This is where the gay best friend stops being a supporting role.

And becomes a lead. 

Because its about time someone started talking about it.... 

Holla 

:)