Depression is real.

You could call me the king of the Overshare, a master of TMI. And I get really conflicted about it because I never wanted this to be all about myself. Or if it was, I wanted it to be a chronicle of a spiritual journey, not a therapy session. But the difficult truth is that I've struggled with depression (sometimes quite severe) almost all my life, and likewise, I've almost never felt like I had people--outside my family, who I don't want to burden with it--to talk to, from the heart. It all just gets too much. "Man, it costs to be friends with you." I saw my first shrink in 1996, and that's when I took my first depression and anxiety meds; I've been on such prescriptions ever since. I think I've taken just about all of them. And I've been through at least 10 therapists. I've sought help in the church. I've tried to form friendships out of professional relationships. I've confused friendship and romantic love more times than I can count. And I do believe that God is real, with all my heart, and I talk to Him a lot, but sometimes I long for someone to be here in physical form to hold me and whisper comforting words in my ear.

I have friends, and they're not perfect, but they're not bad either. I admit that my standards have been too high. I'm not trying to say I'm settling, which would be insulting to them; I'm merely pointing out that most people can't fit in the mold that I would want them to, in the same way I can't be what everyone wants me to be. It's taken me nearly all of my four decades to really "get" this and accept it. Some of my friends are just activity partners. Some of them, I do more listening than talking. Some of them, I feel like we've drifted apart from each other, and I don't know how to be close again. Some of them I have little in common with, but I feel I'd give my life for. Some of them, I don't want to confide in because I feel like they condescend and tell me all the ways they think I'm wrong, when I just really want someone to listen. Very few do I feel a real deep connection with, and feel like it goes both ways. And almost always, I feel like I'm either going to get love or respect--not both. Now what would suck is if all my friends read this and tried to figure out what category they fell into, because the truth is, I love them all, and whatever role they have in my life, I'm good with it. There are a few from which I wish for more. It's always been that way. But you take what is offered and try to give as much as you can back.

Why is my heart wanting to share this with all of you right now? I just want to be real and honest. It sucks when I try to throw a party and nobody wants to come. It sucks when I email someone repeatedly and they don't respond. It sucks to not hear from people for weeks or months at a time. It sucks to feel like I'm always the one who has to reach out. And yet, I think that's all my fault because I've worn my heart on my sleeve too much. True, now in 2013, I've relegated most of that to this blog which almost nobody reads. But still, I think I give off this vibe like, "I want something from you, more than you'll be wanting to give." The sad thing is, it's true in most cases. And yet I've tried so hard to reign that in, you have no idea. I mean, really, if you knew the effort it takes me to just be cool and act like I'm not feeling a lot more than I'm saying, you would be impressed by how well I actually do, especially in comparison with how I used to be. I may sound like a mess here, but I'm a lot more reformed than most of you realize. (If you knew me in the mid-90s you wouldn't want to get within a mile of me, much less friend me on Facebook or read my stupid blog.)

But the problem with that is, I end up keeping it all inside. And when loneliness comes (which happens a lot more than I dare say), it does get very bad. I go to Facebook and give a status update just to feel like I'm not invisible, but it doesn't work. And when I feel this way, I know that not all of my friends could help me. And the ones I feel like they could, I'm afraid to ask.

If anyone is reading this, I would encourage them not to worry about me. I'm just doing my psychotherapy thing here. There is zero chance that I would harm myself, and the reason is simply LOVE. Not self-love, but love of others. But not everyone has been blessed with the love that I've been blessed with, and so I say to anyone reading this, don't ever assume that things are okay with someone. Check on them. Show your love whenever you can. Let them know they matter to you, and tell them why. And if I'm not practicing what I'm preaching, you can feel free to get on me about it.

"...because younger is always so pretty..."

That's from a John Mellencamp song, and one of the only exceptions to the rule of what I'm going to be talking about today is that I mainly admire an older generation of songwriters and musicians.

The other day, I responded to a personal ad on Craigslist. Like me, he was 40 and looking for "friendship or something more." He also said something that did not surprise me in the least: "I mainly get along with younger guys." I had to laugh, because that's something that I would say. I imagine, it's something that every 40-year-old might say, but I could be wrong. In spite of his honest stipulation, I wrote to the guy and said, "most younger guys are not interested in 40-year-olds." Needless to say, I didn't get a reply from him, even though I was friendly and told him I knew where he was coming from. I was "young at heart." But I also told him that when I was younger, I had no desire to hang out with older men.

Well, when you're looking at it from the perspective of the older man, it seems quite hurtful, and you want to yell, "Ageism!" But this is kind of universal, isn't it? Oh sure, there are some young guys who go for older men, but it's usually because they want to be taken care of, not because they're really attracted to them. But a lot of olden men go for younger guys, if they can. It typically means they have to be in excellent shape and exceptionally attractive. And money doesn't hurt.

I find that when I'm looking at personal ads, I rarely even click on a profile for someone my age. Forty seems "old" to me, and I forget that I'm that old. I don't feel that old. In fact, I'm immature in a lot of ways, my emotional growth stunted in my adolescence. Those who know me and my living situation know that my lifestyle is more like a kid's than an adult. There are many adult rites of passage that I have not gone through yet. Or maybe I started to, but failed.

And if you're a frequent reader of this blog, or if you know me at all, you can tell I'm not just talking about sexual relationships when I look to younger men. Every time I work with younger men in a show, whatever younger men who happen to be in my life, I just am drawn to them and want to hang out with them. I had a problem during my last show because I was around a group of guys who were in their 20s and they all clustered around each other, and I tried to join them, but I found that I couldn't. Oh, it's not like they told me to go away, but somehow I just knew that I was not one of them, no matter how much I wanted to be.

I get pretty emotional as I write these words because when I look at my life right now, I see very few people my own age, and the people I am really drawn to are much younger, and often married, sometimes with kids. I tell myself it's fine because I'm not after these men, sexually, but the truth is, the kind of close friendship that I want is more like a romance than a normal friendship between dudes.

Young people say they don't have anything in common with older people. To some extent, that may be true. As I mentioned before, my music taste is very different from that of my younger friends. I don't do gaming of any kind. And I think that when you're older, you do see the world differently. I look back on my 20s and think that I was a stupid, immature jackass. I'm glad I'm not that same guy that I was back then. But then I get upset when I see people that age acting their age. You're supposed to be selfish and immature in your 20s. Hopefully, you grow out of it.

I've always been looking back. My whole life, looking back. When I was a kid, I was a loner and didn't do things with other kids. So when I got older, I wished I could go back and be a child, but I couldn't. And then when I was a teen, I was a pariah and generally hated, and I did not experience the rituals of being an American teenager. So when I hit adulthood, I wasn't ready for it. And as I've gotten older, year by year, I can't seem to stop looking back and trying to live an earlier time in my life, trying to get it right this time, trying to board a ship that has long since sailed. As much as I can't be a kid and do kid things, I can't be 20-something anymore either. Words can't express how much I want to be, but I can't. And whenever I try to surround myself with the younger crowd, I'm reminded that youth is something that I missed, and I can't go back.

Older and older we get, the years stack on each other. Eventually, the young guys who don't think they have anything in common with me will look to an even younger generation that is more beautiful, more desirable, more ambitious, and more elitist than they are. But when they're 40 and I'm 60, I still won't have a chance with them.

of true confessions, leaps of faith...

I used to write letters. Long letters. Not because I had a long distance pen pal. In fact, most of the letters I used to write were to people who lived within 10 miles of me. I wasn't trying to recapture a lost art (although now that seems oddly worth doing). The thing was, my shyness used to make it impossible for me to tell people how I felt. What I couldn't imagine at the time (though now it seems so obvious) was that people, for the most part, were not generally interested in hearing it...or reading it.

People never seemed to fit my expectation of what a Friend was supposed to be. And I suppose that I didn't fit people's own idea of the same. I was terrified of the phone: what if I interrupted something important? What if I woke them up? What if I dialed a wrong number? And if we happened to meet somewhere, I would either clam up and be a total bore or else I would unleash this explosion of pent up feeling, like I was in a shrink's office, leaving the other guy to feel like he had to dispense some Wisdom, which he didn't really have to give.

So I never got out much. And whenever I felt drawn to a person, I would write to them. I knew it was strange and probably unwelcome. But I just couldn't help myself. There was a time that I just felt a desperate need to reach out like that. What would I tell them? Well, I'm not going to relive all that here. Sometimes, it was something that they did not want to know, or should not know, or did not need to know. Sometimes, I just felt like I needed them to know for my own peace of mind. But I was lying to myself, because it didn't give me peace of mind. When people didn't respond, or when they responded badly, it just brought more sadness, confusion, loneliness and desperation. Sometimes it would become a cycle and I would write again and again, even though it was obvious that it was the wrong thing to do. In the midst of revealing heavy emotions, I would also just talk about normal friend things. I would talk about songs I liked or movies, books, other culture. I used to quote a lot. When I could not think of what to say, I let Tori Amos or Smashing Pumpkins or Foetus say it.

And what did I hope to gain from all this? Writing a long, heart-felt letter is like a leap of faith because you're investing time and emotional energy into the idea that this person you're writing to is going to read what you've written, and that it will affect them in some way that is favorable to you. I wanted people to understand me. I wanted them to like me. In some cases, I wanted them to help me. Because a lot of these letters were written in a very dark time when I didn't know what to do.

There's really only one person that I still write letters to. He resides in a prison a long ways away. I've never met him. I think I've mentioned him here before, but I haven't identified him, and I won't. (I have a feeling that people would judge me for wanting to correspond with this person.)  But it's amazing to me how much my motives for writing him seem the same as when I wrote those letters to all those other people years ago. I seem to be looking for a friend, for understanding, for love even. And here's a captive audience, although that's not really true; he doesn't have to read them, and if he told me to leave him alone, I would. But he's written back only a few times in several years, and it's very hard to keep it up. It's that leap of faith, a faith that seems to grow weaker as time goes on, because I never know if I'll hear from him again. Do I really want to spend the time and energy on this? Do I really want to feel things for someone who is really not accessible to me? How do I know when to stop?

Some of what I used to write in letters, I put in blogs like these. It's not the same. It's still a leap of faith because who even reads this? But it's not personal. It's not "from me to you". When I wrote letters, it's like I was trying to touch a person's soul. But this here is just...food for thought, followed by forgetfulness. Go back to Facebook, go back to your emails, Twitter, your online games, your porno, whatever. I don't try to touch people hearts because I don't think they want that. I have to find a sexual partner for that. And that has always been exceedingly difficult for me.

As I've grown older, I've learned about boundaries. I can say whatever I want here because you chose to open this document. But if I send a letter...If we're talking and I say something deep or emotional, I know it tends to be off limits. When I was growing up, I was guarded (shy), and then I found a way to be unguarded (letters) but then I realized it went too far, and now I'm guarded again. I don't say what I want to say. I feel things, and I keep them to myself. It's how you're supposed to do. It's what's expected.

I still don't get out much.

flow

Okay, here's the thing: I love you, but I want more followers. Gotta figure out how to promote this thing. Of course, I shot it in the foot by taking away its central focus, so now even I don't know what the heck it's supposed to be about, so that doesn't help.

I think that what will come in the future is a new blog that focuses on my work as an artist. That way, it can appeal to other artists, who can relate and comment about their own similar experiences. But that will probably be on the Wordpress Book of Dreams site, which is technically up but not updated since the failed production of last fall's What Connects Us.

I've been keeping pretty busy, more so than I have in a long time. I worked on a monologue for Part Time Playhouse. Their summer series, In Theater, focuses on work written by and/or performed by military veterans. The piece I did was a 7-page monologue, which was very well written and well acted. (I withhold names of people in this blog to protect their privacy if they don't want to be blogged about.) But I had trouble directing it. First, I felt like a fish out of water in two ways: 1.) I was not a vet, and could not relate to a lot of the experiences discussed among the playwright and actor. And 2.) This was for a filmed public TV production, which was new to me, and I didn't know all the ins and outs of how that worked. Both elements made me lack confidence in my abilities to both direct and be respected. Very early on, the actor nailed the performance of this piece, with a real understanding of the character, and for most of the rehearsals, I just kind of sat there, not knowing how to improve upon it, which left me feeling redundant. But then the broadcast day came, and the finished product was wonderful. I don't know how much credit I can take for it, but it felt good to see the piece succeed, because it was really solid. I also had a chance to hang out with an actress who I directed in a show a couple years ago. She was starring in a different monologue, also very good.

So it's been nerve-wracking, getting things arranged for my project grant that I'm applying for. You have to try to figure out when and where you're going to perform the piece that you want to do, but often to do that, you have to pay a deposit to reserve the space. I have assured various people whom I love that I will be careful about taking financial risks. And so I have to really watch what kind of arrangements I make with people. I have to know that I'll be able to follow through. I have to either have an escape clause in case I don't get the funding, OR I have to have a plan B for how to fund the project. I already know I'm gonna be doing other types of fund-raising in addition to the grant, even if I get it. But the pressure is on; the complete application and supplemental materials (whatever those turn out to be) are due before the end of the month.

Tonight was a very significant night for me because after a few years of working on my new play, "para physin", which I wrote with a good friend of mine, I finally had it read in a public setting by PDX Playwrights. Mostly it was a good experience. Even when people are trying to make your script better, their suggestions are made in such a way that is thoughtful and considerate of your hard work and your feelings. I know that all my work comes from a place very deep within me and it's really hard to stick your neck out there for people to chop it off. But this is a good group, a thoughtful group, and I appreciated the feedback. I hope to be able to showcase it in Fertile Ground 2014, but there are some changes that need to be made first. Again, money is an issue. And rehearsal space. Last year's attempt was such a miserable failure, I don't know if I can bear trying again so soon.

So in the next weeks, I'll be working on the grant and helping out in a play for Wilsonville Theater Co. Been trying to find some nice people to date online, but it's not been very successful. The guys that seem great tend to be con artists. And I used to be gullible, but not anymore. The day you realize you've become a realist is worse than the day you realize you're a man and childhood is gone.

If you're reading this, I want to know who you are.

When I was shamefully attending voc rehab sessions twice a week, I would sometimes have to go "upstairs" to talk to one of the counselors. It was very irritating the first time I started to walk that double flight of stairs, and I heard this loud yell from up above: "ANNOUNCE YOURSELF!" It was a man's voice. I didn't know who he was, but obviously in charge. At first I wasn't sure if he was talking to me. How could he even see me? I didn't see him. Then he yelled it again, so I sheepishly said my name and stated my business. Then I was allowed to come upstairs. I learned this was always necessary, no doubt for security reasons. Maybe there were some whacked-out druggies at the voc rehab. I sure didn't feel like I belonged there, but I did because...well, I was afraid of work. (I don't mean that in the same way you say a lazy guy is afraid to work; I was afraid of it like some people are afraid of heights or closed-in spaces.)

Well, anyway, the point of that whole opening paragraph is that now I'm the guy saying to you (saying, not yelling): announce yourself. If you read my blog, subscribe to it, comment on it (please keep it friendly), let me know who you are so that I don't just think I'm talking to myself. I mean, I realize that above all, that is exactly what I'm doing, but I'm also trying to connect here.

Thank you.

a sea change

As usual, the title of this entry is deceptive. Yes, there's a change in the wind (maybe even in the sea) but it's not a change of monumental proportions. I still remain the same man I was when I wrote the last entry, but I'm tweaking the direction and focus of this blog just a little bit. Up until now, the pretense was "one man's gay Christian journey." But then I realized that I had a really hard time sticking to that specific criteria. So I'm broadening it a bit to free me to write whatever I want, although the downside may be that I no longer have an audience per se, just people who know and care who I am. Which is a very small number. Oh well. That's the way it has to be, at least for now. Telling people this is a "Christian-themed blog" just feels like a bait-and-switch. Not gonna do it anymore. This doesn't mean that God won't come up because I'm still a Christian. But generally, what you read here is not intended as spiritual discourse.

So who gives a shit about Matt Russell? I'm going to put a new caption beneath the title of this blog that says, "writer, director, producer"...That's not complete. Maybe I should add "alien." Part of what makes me interesting (and yes, I dare say that I am an interesting fellow) is how unusual my life is, how skewed my perspective, how unknown my feelings and how foreign my thoughts to the general populace. This does not make me feel proud or superior in any way. In fact, it makes me feel like I don't fit in anywhere, and it is, in fact, the whole impetus for writing, to cope with the ubiquitous feelings of isolation and loneliness. It's the mechanism by which I try to survive.

For example, a few weeks ago, I finished a play I've been scratching out for a long time. Little by little for years, and then the last 80% just eked out all at once. And in this play is all the things...or at least almost all the things I wish I could say to my straight friends, particularly the ones I like a little more than I should. It's the long bear hug that none of them want, but hidden in the form of a drama. Sometimes that is what you have to do.

There is no organization to this entry. To you new folks, be patient. I'm just getting used to this new format. It will be more coherent next time. I want to take a moment to mourn the loss of actor Cory Monteith. Of course, everyone has already had their cry on Facebook and Twitter, but it seems only appropriate for me to say a few words on here. I first saw him on one of my all-time favorite TV shows, Kyle XY. (If you've never seen it, I urge you to check it out because it's very well written, acted, etc.) And as has been the case before (as in with Matt Damon) I recognized his greatness before he became famous and so watching him on Glee was a terrific pleasure for me. Glee itself is a mixed bag. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's not. But when it's good, it's great, and has the power to touch hearts in a very meaningful way. And Cory was just like the guy next door that you have a crush on. You know you can't have him, but you also know that he's not going to hold your feelings against you. Completely harmless...except to himself.

This is a time of some stress, and I'll be trying to work through it by writing through it. 1.) I'm directing a short monologue for Public Playhouse to air on Aug. 4. It's a 7-page monologue. Rehearsals every day for a week and half before the air date. I've never done anything like this, and so it's a learning experience. 2.) I'm applying for a grant from Regional Arts and Cultural Council. This is will be for a project I wish to produce in the year 2014. There are many guidelines to this application process and it feels like an SAT test or something. I don't make a lot of money from my job, and so I can't generally afford to produce the projects that are on my heart to produce, and so I need funding. This is my first attempt at that. 3.) I'll be helping out with the fall production of Wilsonville Theater Co.'s Miracle on South Division Street by...okay I can't remember the playwright, I'll tell you later. I'll be kind of a 2nd pair of eyes for the director...unless she wants me to act in it, which might be fun because it's been a long time. It would be fun but SCARY!!!  4.) My new play which I mentioned earlier is being read by PDX Playwrights on Aug. 6 and if all goes well, I want to produce it for Fertile Ground. Well, some of you know I tried to produce one of my works for FG last year, and it was a complete disaster. I know the mistakes I made, and I honestly am not going to make them again...I'm wiser, but I'm still gun-shy, because what happened last year really hurt. 5.) I've given up any notion of producing the Christmas show. It's okay because I feel like it's all in God's timing, you know, but it's hard too because it can only be produced during one season in the year. If I don't do it this fall, it has to wait another year. And I just think it's a really damn good show, but I may be the only one who thinks that.

At some point soon, I'll write about my addiction. It's not drugs or alcohol or sex. It's the search for love and affection, and you would be surprised by the different ways in which it manifests. But not tonight. This is a good start to the new direction. If this was live, you'd all be throwing rotten fruit at me. Thank God for the internet.

my creation

I once sat listening to a pastor who said that people shouldn't claim to "create" things; people can make things out of the vast material that God provides around us, but the word "creator" should only apply to Almighty God. Well, I don't really agree with that. I agree that He's the Supreme Creator, and I would never try to equate myself with His glory and majesty. But we're also created in His image and as an artist, I know what it's like to fashion something where there was nothing there before. You could say that God sometimes plants a seed of inspiration, but that doesn't really diminish it in my book.

Last time, I tried to describe to you (whoever YOU may be, my readers) what a perfect world would be like, if I ran it. Actually, it was more like the world that I do in fact run in my writing. But the words eluded me, and I was unable to capture the essence of this thing, you could call it Mattopia, where people always listen and treat you the way you want to be treated and people don't have to worry about arbitrary social rules and boundaries; they can be completely honest with each other, and in doing so, they come one step closer to fulfillment.

It's not a perfect vision; there are bits of hypocrisy hiding just below the surface. For instance, I would like to be honest with Joe Blo about my feelings for him, but if that grosses him out, then I would not want him to tell me that, at least not in those words. Maybe in my perfect world, he wouldn't have to like me back, but at least it wouldn't gross him out. People wouldn't be grossed out by stuff like that. On the flip side, if Flo Joe tells me she's into me but it grosses me out, under my "perfect world" standards, I would still want to be friends with her, but that's not really the way I feel. So you see, it's a perfect world when it suits me. And I feel like a really big man that I can admit that.

The things I write (and I mean, creative writing projects, not like this blog) do not represent a totally artificial world, like Leave It To Beaver. Rather, it shows the world like it is, but then presents some element of different-ness, a way that things aren't but ought to be, in my humble opinion. And I'm not the only writer who does this. I seem to recall Stephen King's emotional reaction to seeing Stand By Me, the film adaptation of his great novella, The Body. He was greatly moved, but had to admit that the kind of friendship shown in that story is more the way we'd like it to be than how it is in real life.

So as I reflect on finishing the first draft of my script, para physin, which I've worked on for 4 years (all tiny bits and pieces until the last week when the majority of it just fell in my lap, like a giant elephant from the sky), I realize that the real world is certainly represented, but so too is Mattopia, a place where some really sweet and wonderful things can happen, things that don't generally happen in real life. Does this make me a more honest or less honest storyteller? Less honest, perhaps, from the viewpoint of the cynic and the realist. But more honest in terms of what my true heart hopes and dreams for humanity. And I have to think there is an important place for that in the arts.

a perfect world

I daydream. I probably don't do it as much as I used to. But I still do it a fair amount. I pretend I'm on some nation-wide news program, being interviewed about my feelings on everything from music to film to politics and spirituality. I go on and on, expressing my viewpoints and pretending that people are interested in what I have to say. I imagine media personalities saying in their own interviews that they heard what I said about this or that, and agreed whole-heartedly. I've never confessed this outright before, though I did write a play once in which the protagonist does the same thing.

Of course, with daydreams you get the instant gratification of that imagined recognition. You can play pretend, and if you have a good imagination, you can almost make yourself believe it's really happening. Just don't daydream any place where people can see you and your lips move as you play out a scene that is all in your head. They might check you into the mental hospital.

There are other ways to have a voice. I've always thought of myself as an artist (if you imagine the term "artist" covering a wide spectrum of visual art, music, literature, theatre, film, etc), and artists use their work to express what they think and feel about the world. Of course some people are just looking for entertainment, but I honestly think that art exists for the purpose of expressing a point of view. And I've always tried to push myself to produce content that will be noticed and could make some kind of difference in the world. But I can be lazy and I can have creative dry spells, and when I do, it's easier just to play one of these movies in my head. Like it's easier to go to bed and imagine someone cuddling up with me than to actually go out on a date and risk rejection. And so certain things can paralyze you, and make you feel like you're stuck in a place you can't get out of.

It could be argued that every artist has his/her own universe that's distinctly theirs. Tolkien had Middle Earth. C.S. Lewis had Narnia. But in a more general sense, an artist fashions an environment that is either a reflection of what he/she sees in the world (and sometimes it's presented in the form of symbolism) or a picture of what that artist would like the world to be. I have done both of these. But usually, I deal with the world I desire to live in. And I thought, I wonder if I could write a blog entry in which I describe what that is. I don't know if I can. I can paint a picture of it in script form, but can I just state it outright? I'm about to find out.

Well, I'm an extreme romantic, which no one would know because it's mostly bottled up inside. It comes out whenever I try too hard to be friends with a guy I like. I'm not trying to get them into bed, but I think they sense my romantic nature, and it's threatening to them because they don't know I can respect their boundaries. That's why you see deeper relationships among men in my stories than you find in real life, even men who are heterosexual, because in my world, people are not scared of being liked, or even loved.

People listen to each other, and they actually understand what the other person is saying. There are not the barriers to communication that exist in real life. In real life, a person can be talking to you, but because you're only listening with 25% of your mind and using the rest to think about yourself, you often miss the point of whatever your friend is trying to tell you.

A lot of the cultural norms that exist in the real world do not exist in mine. People in their 20's are not freaked out by the idea of spending time with people in their 30's or 40's. Everyone can learn from one another, and consider other people's lives to have value to contribute to their own, no matter what age, race, sex, orientation, etc. Prejudice and fear disappear, as does favoritism.

Okay, I've written 3 paragraphs trying to describe my perfect world, and I don't really like what I've written. I mean, I don't feel like it captures my heart. I feel like I'm preaching or writing some lunatic manifesto, and that's not my intention. I'm also not trying to make it so personal, but it obviously is. I look at the things in my life that I've been hurt by, and basically try to fix them. I try to show people another way of looking at things. But this isn't coming out quite right. I'm better at pretending to articulate thoughts than actually articulating them.

But, um...let me try to say one more thing. U2 did a song called "Where the Streets Have No Name", which I love, but I don't think that idea is what I'm striving for. Because individuality is important. I think what my heart pines for is a world without walls...or at least a world with much fewer walls. The walls that people put around themselves to prevent real connection with people. In my life, I feel I'm surrounded by endless walls, tall and impenetrable in every direction, caving in, crashing down upon me, and I rarely see into the light of a person's soul because it's just walls, walls, and more walls.

And I lie on the ground, beneath dozens of caved-in walls, and I'm looking up through a small keyhole.The stars in the sky are so far away, as far as your eyes, through which I would be able to see into your heart.

It's my party

"Sing along with me, this is 40..." says Bono at the end of U2's 1983 Red Rocks concert, Under a Blood Red Sky. They always used to close with this spiritual hymn of sorts, taken partly from Psalm 40 which is about God putting a new song in people's mouth, and then Bono sort of adds a "but" line to it: "How long to sing their song?"

I have no reason to begin this blog with that, except that as I'm about to turn 40 in a couple days, I find myself longing to have people to "sing along with me". It's lonely to grow older, especially when you feel a strong affinity towards people younger than you, something I've wrestled with all my adult life. I always just enjoy the company of younger people, and yet culturally, I idolize people my parents' age.

It's an interesting time for Richard Linklater's third part in his Before Sunrise/Sunset series to be coming out. Some of my favorite movies of all time, and the most romantic, bar none. It's all about making a connection with someone through talking and listening. (And there may be a bit of sex thrown in for good measure.) And how that connection changes--or does not change--over the course of many years, how aging changing us, but we're still fundamentally the same. People who like car chases and explosions don't appreciate films like this. It's all talk, talk, talk. But one of the best nights of my life (June 1, 1995) consisted of a talk much like the ones in these films, the likes of which I've almost never had again. That this person and I became bitter enemies just a short time later makes it all the more fascinating to wonder what would happen if we saw each other again, after all these years.

Many my age are balding. Many have gained weight, as have I. I look at people I had a crush on in high school and it makes me sad to think how they've declined. And they have families, many of them, kids, and boring jobs, and typical lives that can't be anything close to what they once dreamed of when they were young, lives of distinction, lives that seemed to matter, to make a difference in the world. I'm not trying to put them down; to them, this is what life is about. I hope it's pure joy. But for me, I always wanted something different.

I haven't achieved such a young person's dream life either, but the difference is, I'm still trying. I still consider myself an artist above most all other things. And someday maybe I will be recognized as someone with something important to say and contribute. But will I end up more happy for it than all my classmates who just settled into a life of normalcy? At least they fit in somewhere, at least they feel like they belong to something. They've been in romantic relationships (I have not), they have experienced their own version of the American dream with their house, their car, their career. My life has the appearance of something much more lowly than that, especially for someone my age.

But what matters to me has never really been the same as what mattered to many of those around me. I once joined a church and tried to get to know some of the young men there by emailing them and inviting them to coffee. The pastor, upon hearing of this, acted like I had committed one of the biggest social gaffes ever in the history of man. People don't get acquainted that way. Well, I do. I've never cared much for social rules and pretense, but as a result I've been generally ignored by 95% of the people I ever wanted to get to know. And most people realize we don't choose our friends, but our friends choose us. That doesn't mean I don't love my friends or would not actively choose them now, as opposed to someone else. In fact, I have a feeling if I had the ones I once thought I wanted, they would disappoint me. But life is so much about expectations, and growing older is about the ability to reconcile those expectations with reality. But it's not easy.

So I may cry, if I want to. Because it's my party, and I can.

Validation.

I watch a lot of TV. I admit it. Some people play video games; I watch television. Not reality television, mind you, I can't stand that. But stories (fiction) I like. The ION network has weekly marathons of Cold Case and Without a Trace, and we DVR them to make sure we don't miss anything. Both shows have been cancelled for awhile now, and there were entire seasons missed when they were on. But we do occasionally find one we've seen, and in the case of the episode of Without a Trace I watched just now, I'm so glad I saw it a second time. It'll probably go down as my favorite episode because it resonates so much with me and the way that my own teenage years were. 

It was called "Wannabe" and it was all about a teenage outcast who nobody liked. Then he gets a strategy to find some acceptance but it backfires and his social life gets 100 times worse. What was the strategy that backfired? Treating someone else badly, the way he was treated. This reminds me of the talk that my math & science teacher had with me when I was in junior high. (I'm sure I have already written about this before so I'll be brief.) I didn't believe him when he said people teased me because they needed to feel better about themselves. But a year later, when things were not AS bad for me (they were still bad though), I took to teasing as part of the group mentality of the people I hung out with. It's my biggest regret in my school years. 

I honestly don't think there was anything I could have done back then to be accepted. There were just things about me that people liked to find fault with. Any time I tried to act differently, dress differently, talk back to the bullies, it just made things worse. Not that being silent helped. But because they had me convinced I was a loser, I stayed mostly silent and didn't find my "voice" until my second year of college, thanks to theater and creative writing. 

That was so long ago, and now I'm about to turn 40 and reflect on all the ways in which I have changed and matured over the years. But...well, wait a minute...um....

Last week was as stupid as my years in junior high. I get this idea to have this big birthday weekend on the coast and invite a whole bunch of people. I was gonna max out my credit card on this awesome ocean-front property, and we were gonna party like it was 2099. So I sent out all these invites and I'm so excited cos I've never done anything like this before. And I wait. And wait some more. 

Some people respond that they're busy. Well, that's fine, I can't blame them for that, nor do I have any reason to feel bad about myself for it. Some people say they can come for an afternoon. Well, that's all right, but not as cool as a whole weekend. A few commit to the weekend, but like any good cocktail, you have to have the right mix. I had some of the ingredients I needed, but not all. I pressed those people who hadn't responded yet after a few days. And they still didn't respond. And that, my friends, is when I was transported back to the 7th grade. I would not have been able to generate a lot of interest in a party for myself back then either. 

(By the way, I know I'm changing tenses a lot. Sorry.)

And my feeling is this:  it is hurtful if you don't want to come to my gathering, but it's understandable. Perhaps I wouldn't want to come to yours either. But what drives me nuts is people not responding. Well, that settles it. I'm deleting all non-responders from my friends list!  

But probably not really. Cos I've always felt desperate for friends, that's the problem. I don't demand respect because some part of me must feel I'm not worthy of it, and I should just be happy that the people are in my life at all. 

Now, of course, this being a Christian-themed blog, the normal tendency would be to start discussing my identity in Christ, and how He created and loves me perfectly, just as I am. Well, although that is true, it doesn't always feel like a consolation when you're looking for validation from other human beings. What do I know? I know I can't be something other than what I am. I know that need and insecurity are turn-offs. That's why whenever I post something too self-pitying on FB, I usually come to my senses and delete it after a few minutes. (This forum is different though; I'm trying to process here.) 

How do we, as human beings, get a sense of validation? How do we become comfortable with who we are? Some of us have a relationship with God, which offers both encouragement and perspective. Others have family who instill confidence in their kin by how they love them and nurture them. Others have friends who can tell them how awesome they are. Well, guess what? I have all those things, and I still feel chronically rejected most of the time. Where does this come from? 

Robyn Hitchcock says, "If you don't love yourself, what's the use of someone else loving you?" I'm sure he's not the first to express that notion. The Bible tells us to love ourselves. But what does that mean, how does it manifest? I know people care about me, but if my search for validation doesn't begin with myself (for I already know I have it with God), will I ever stop being disappointed by others? 

To people who have left the faith.

I don't understand you. And likely, you don't understand me either. People can believe whatever they want, and I don't stand in judgement. I know some people who don't have a lot of free will right now. I would not want to be them. Free will is part of what makes us learn and grow and thrive. Waking up every day knowing that you can make your decisions is part of what makes life worthwhile. Your choices could turn out great for you, or you may end up regretting some of them, but either way, you own it, and it's a precious thing.

I did not choose to grow up in a Christian family and hear the beliefs of previous generations. However, at some point in life, I did choose to maintain those beliefs and practices, and take ownership of them. I chose to receive grace through Christ and believe on Him for salvation and all of my other needs.

Some people started off where I did, and then they turned down a different road. They heard, and did not receive, or else they once believed, and then stopped believing. I discussed in my previous entry how a Christian will worry about his/her non-believing friends, and pray for them, and maybe even try to get them to see things their way. This is because the Christian earnestly believes his/her friend is in danger, and wants to help. I called for compassion for these friends of faith in emotional distress!

This entry looks at things from a slightly different angle. I'm going to try to put myself in the shoes of an unbeliever...not really, and not for long, just a mental exercise, to see what happens. What if I didn't believe? Might there be good things about it? Well, it would be nice to not know words like "sin"...Your moral code would simply be whatever you felt was important for self-preservation. Obey the law if you think you might otherwise get caught. And if you believe in not hurting people, that's admirable too. It might help your self-esteem. If you love, then you can let love rule. That includes having sex with everyone with whom you share a physical attraction, and I will admit to you, that sounds pretty damn appealing to me. Again, words like "fornication" and "adultery" would not be in the vocabulary, unless you wanted them to. And best of all (at least for me), the whole gay thing would be a complete non-issue, as it is for many, many people. (If you're reading me for the first time, let me tell you I live my life in such a way as to make it as much of a non-issue as possible, but I would be lying if I said I had 100% peace about it.)

In addition to all those great things about being an unbeliever, I would also point out.....................

Okay, I'm not really sure what I would also point out. No rules. Okay, great. I am my own boss. I can follow my heart wherever it leads me. The only problem is, the heart can be stupid and self-destructive. Oh, I've made so many crazy mistakes in my life, just because I was determined to do what I wanted to do. It's not easy making it up as you go along. If I could believe in something, it might give me a clue about what to do or where to go next. It feels like walking through a dark forest without a flashlight.

Everyone has had their share of demons; whether you would say real or metaphorical is up to you. One of the biggest, nastiest monsters in my life has always been loneliness. And you could say, "If God is always with you, how can you be lonely?" Because the flesh is weak. It points to the division between soul and spirit. Having God hasn't kept me from being lonely, but it's kept me from dying of loneliness. I wouldn't want to think there's no one out there greater than me, intimately interested in my thoughts, feelings, actions, desires, needs. I would not want to believe that I and the universe I live in are cosmic accidents, and the only help available is my fellow man, which--as you well know--is not the most reliable of creatures.

I wouldn't want to suffer the loss of a loved one, thinking that I would never see them again, that they would merely decompose and their life essence be forgotten over the decades as everyone they knew passed away as well. I would not want to believe that there was nothing after this life to look forward to, because it would make death such a terrifying, looming shadow in the distance, I wouldn't be able to sleep. I'd feel like my whole life was a long fall down a tall building, just waiting for the crash at the bottom.

There have been accounts of people who say they have seen heaven and/or hell, and of course I don't expect any atheist friends to believe in those testimonies. To be honest, I am not sure that I believe some of them. But I would hate to not believe...and then be wrong. I would hate to play games with eternity. I would rather risk being delusional and taking false comfort from an imagined deity than to die and come to find out that I've rejected eternal life, and embraced eternal torment.

But most of all, if I was like you, I would be without the thing that matters most in my life, my one true love, the one who made me, the one who knew me from the foundation of the earth, the one who loves me unconditionally, the one who died and went to hell so that I wouldn't have to be separated from Him. My first and truest love. Always there, with me, always available to talk to. Friends go away, for a variety of reasons. You might just want to do that now, after reading my craziness. God is unshakable. No, I don't know why you would want to leave Him, for anything.

How to handle your Christian friends.

As Easter quickly approaches, I have the same frustration that I experience around Christmas. A lot of people like to point out that these holidays have pagan origins. In other words, the Catholic church integrated  Christian beliefs into preexisting pagan rituals, thus forming the holidays that Christians have celebrated for centuries. Of course, I'm not arguing about their pagan origins. I would like to point out, however, that people can choose what it is they're celebrating. If you want to celebrate Jesus Christ, you can do that and not worry about pagan origins. If you want to acknowledge the pagan festivals and their meaning while disregarding Christ, you're free to do that as well. It just seems like there's a tug-of-war over certain times of the year, and there's no reason for it. It also seems like there are people who just like to hurl shit at the beliefs of others for no reason. Why say something like "zombie Jesus" day? If you talk like that to a Christian, it's on a par with saying "that's so gay" to your LGBT friends.

I'm writing this for all my atheist and agnostic friends out there, and there are quite a few, and I care very much for all of them. I want to keep being friends with them; I don't want to be driven away by their insensitivity to my faith any more than I want to drive them away by trying to convert them. My guess is they feel sorry for me for being a gullible and delusional masochist who forces himself to live under a set of imposed values and beliefs, which keeps me from really living my life to the fullest. To those people: you're wrong, but I know you think you're right, and vice-versa, and on and on and on...This writing is not about trying to change your beliefs. It's about being understood.

Christians are not much different from anyone else. They have certain values, and they deserve to not be mocked. While it's true that many Christians have gotten political and made themselves to look like hatemongers, it's unfair to generalize them all in that way. What I want to do is give you a glimpse of a random Christian, someone you might actually like, someone with whom you may find common ground. That Christian, of course, is me. And here's what I want you to know.

I don't think I'm better than anybody else. You might hear me saying, "I am the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus." But it's those last 3 words that are most important. What righteousness I have comes from Him. It's not because I do good (I often don't); it's merely because I've chosen to receive and believe on Him. So no Christian should ever be giving you "I'm holier than thou" vibes.

If a Christian wants to talk to you about Jesus or invite you to church, it is not because he thinks there is something wrong with you. We believe everyone who is born on this earth needs Jesus; he's our connection to God, and our escape from spiritual death. We're not holding contests to see how many people we can bring to our church, to increase tithes and offerings. This isn't what's on my heart, and I don't believe it's what's on the heart of most believers. Think of it this way:   Imagine if someone you loved told you that he was going to kill himself, and there was nothing you could do about it. Would you respect his decision or would you try to stop him? And would he feel disrespected and insulted that you tried to stop him? When a Christian talks to you about Jesus, in his mind he is trying to throw you out of the path of a speeding semi truck. The fact that they don't want you to go to hell means that they love you, not that they disrespect you.

Here's another way I look at it. What if Christians are wrong and there's no god? I guess people would just die; they wouldn't have a chance to be disappointed because if they're dead, they're not thinking about whether there's an afterlife or not. They will have lived a life that gave them meaning and a sense of purpose. They would not have missed out on anything important. However, what if Christians are right, and our God is real? The disappointment and regret non-believers would face upon death is beyond measure.

Christians don't claim to understand everything, or know everything. If you ask me to prove that God exists, I would have to say, "Sorry, it doesn't work like that." I know in my heart that he's real and living in me, but that's a personal discovery that everyone has to make. They have to be open to it. I do believe that God reaches out and pulls on someone's heart. I don't know why there's so much suffering in the world, although much of it is because God gave man the gift of free will. You wouldn't want it any other way. You don't want to be forced to worship anything. And honestly, I don't think He wants people to be forced; He wants them to make the choice. As for why there is the unusually cruel fact of an eternal hell?  Well, my friends, that's one I cannot answer for you. I know it wasn't meant for man, but it's free will that can get him there. I don't know why man only has limited chances for salvation. I guess when I see Him face to face, I can ask.

I know a lot of my friends might wonder how I can be a Christian and still be gay...and not only that; there are plenty of other things in my life--movies I watch, music I listen to, words I use, drinking, etc--that would raise the eyebrows of some Christians. Well, I'm a work in progress, and I am perfectly righteous but only through Christ. (I know I already said that.) I believe that whatever God wants us as individuals to change in our lives, He gives us the grace and power to do so. These are things I talk to God about all the time. Does it make me look like a hypocrite? Perhaps, but I never pretend that my deeds make me a good person. And I make it a point not to judge others, and usually I'm successful in that area.

There may be a part two to this. Thanks for reading, and be nice to your Christian friends. We'll be nice to you. At least I will.