homosexual

May 13, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 19 – Good Mourning/What it is to Burn

In preparation for this blog I knew I wanted to do a Finch song. It was the one that seemed to fit the next entry the most. And for whatever reason I didn’t want to do one from Alkaline Trio. That seemed too easy. But as I re-listened to the Finch album “What it is to Burn” everything came rushing back to me with absolute detail. All of a sudden I was back in my station wagon, smoking a Turkish Gold cigarette with the windows down, listening to track 12 on repeat.

I was, once again, in the darkening hours of 17 and mourning my break-up with Travis.

I got over Jason way too easily. Before I knew it I was back in the AOL chat rooms, chatting with the gays, hoping someone new would pop in. That’s when and where I saw the username THINKAdio enter the room with the sound of a screeching door. For whatever reason he enjoyed my username, melancholychaos, so much that he messaged me.

Travis was 24, 5’10, on the chubby side, covered in tattoos and piercings, and a big time skater. I thought he was gorgeous. I can still see the first picture he ever sent me. He had this big goofy grin, black spikey hair, and wearing latex gloves. He was a piercer in those days, long before he became a tattoo artist. I was immediately attracted to him.

It also didn’t hurt that he was a huge nerd and liked Star Wars as much as me.

On our first date we met up to see the movie “The Order” with Heath Ledger. He liked horror movies and was a big fan of him, so it fit. My mom unknowingly dropped me off for this date and then drove off, only to circle back around to see who it was I was meeting. Later on she would ask me if “the guy with the tattoos” was my boyfriend.

After the movie we went back to his place, where his friends happened to drop by. I met them right out of the gate. They were all just like him and super goofy. His best gal pal, who’s name escapes me, was so super awesome. I loved her the most. She had the driest humor.

The reason I chose two albums for this entry is because it was this night when he handed me two burned CD’s. One was Alkaline Trio’s “Good Mourning” and Finch’s “What it is to Burn.” Neither of the discs had the titles, just the band names, which as someone with OCD drives me a little crazy.

Regardless, I couldn’t wait to get back to my place to listen to them.

He dropped me back at my parents’ house, in his white Toyota pick-up, and would call me later that night to talk on the phone until 2 in the morning.

When I first listened to the CD’s I fell instantly in love with Alkaline Trio. I could understand the lyrics, the tempo of the songs was energetic, and it was relatively campy. All of their songs are about death and dying but presented in this really obtuse way. I attempted to listen to Finch but on my first try I really didn’t like it. All of the songs were so depressing that I could barely make it through one without a grimace on my face. I slid it into my bulky CD case and forgot about it.

When I was younger I use to have this sixth sense about relationships. Like, I could tell you who was going to dump who, and about how long it was going to last. With Travis I saw the number two and I knew he was going to break my heart. But, I didn’t believe myself and really didn’t care.

I was super into him.

At the time I thought we had dated for two months but maybe we didn’t. My perception of time seems to be a corrupted. Because I vividly remember being dumped by Jason the night before school started and it was shortly after that, maybe a week, when he and I met for out first date.

Maybe it was two weeks? Fuck. Who knows at this point.

We talked on the phone every night, when he wasn’t drinking at the bars downtown. This dude appeared, to me at least, as a huge alcoholic. I was from a family of non-drinkers, my father being an ex-alcoholic himself, so dating someone who went every night was unsettling for me. It was one of these drunken nights when he called me up and asked us what we were.

“Sooooo… Like do I call you my boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” I said. “At least I thought we were.”

“Cool.” He replied. “I got a boyfriend. I’m gonna go back in.”

“Okay, have fun.”

Everything seemed to be going fine until one day, he was MIA. I went to school, texted him on the way and got no response at all. I tried calling in between classes, but it went right to voicemail. I was panicked. I could feel the energy shift and I knew what was coming. After school he finally messaged me and said to come over to his place.

When I got there, he was sitting in his room, with the lights off, listening to some mopey album. I sat on the end of the bed and waited.

The CD stopped and he mumbled to me, “I think we should see other people.”

My blood turned cold.

“Okay,” I said.

“I still want to be friends though.”

I did not want to be friends. I was so mad.

“I’m really sorry,” he said.

“It’s whatever.”

None of what I wanted mattered. I had zero choice in the situation. Clearly his mind had been made up and there was nothing I could say or do to change the outcome.

I said my goodbyes and left feeling hollow. It was absolutely out of nowhere. Everything was perfectly fine one minute and then not the next. To this day I have no idea what the fuck happened. I really wish I knew. I know I asked him once, but for whatever reason the answer didn’t stay with me. Maybe it was dumb. Or perhaps I didn’t want to hear it because it was so simple. All I have is my own conclusion and it was because of the age gap, which is stupid because when he dumped me I was a month away from turning 18. But, maybe he wanted a boyfriend he could go to the bars with. Have some cute thing hanging on his arm.

After that I spiraled out of control. Another fucking break-up so close to the other, I was beside myself. I started to smoke his kind of cigarettes, dress just like him, drink alcohol, and I became even more obsessed with Alkaline Trio. But I knew that wasn’t enough. I had to like that second CD. That was why he broke up with me, I chose the wrong one to like. I pulled the forgotten Finch album into the rotation, just to show how committed I was.

It reoccurred to me today that one CD represented the happier times of the relationship and the other got me through the break-up. All of the songs on “What it is to Burn” made sense. I could identify with them. And they truly spoke to me.

So much of who I am came out of that short-lived relationship. Isn’t that ridiculous? I crafted an entire identity from it, just so that I could, in the off-chance, make myself more attractive to him and he would take me back. He absolutely did not want me back and I was even more lost in the attempt.

In hindsight I shouldn’t have dated him. I should have taken some time between Jason and Travis, or better yet, from Travis to my husband. I think I had had too many break-ups in such a short amount of time that it was destroying my self-esteem and self-worth. I needed to heal from these events. What I chose instead was further self-destruction.

One of the weirdest things about that relationship was that sometime during Travis had given me a lighter. I cherished it after he dumped me, hoping I could use it as some totem to bring him back. One day I went to my car after school and the thing had exploded. It rested in tiny blue plastic fragments on the passenger seat. Since then I have tried so many times to recreate this event, but not once has it been done.

This last year, on November 3rd, Travis died of Stage 3 cancer. I still can’t believe it. It had been years since we had spoken. We would occasionally “like” each other’s posts on Twitter and Instagram.

Now, I leave you with the second album. Track 12 is my favorite. It was the one that spoke the most to me. Maybe because it’s good or because like, most things in my life, the number 12 follows me around as some kind of omen or lucky charm.

May 4, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 17 – (KR) Cube

One thing I have come to understand, at my very core, is that human beings are idiots. It takes us entirely too long, with far too many required lessons, for us to learn something. We have to be repeatedly told or shown a fact until it finally sinks in. And no one is more guilty of that fact than me. It doesn’t matter how self-aware I am, how much self reflection/analysis I do on a daily basis, or how clever I become, I am not. Without a doubt. Yesterday, in my inescapable whirlpool of rage, I screamed at the top of my lungs (while on the phone with my husband) that I have zero control over my life. And I fucking hate that. What’s ridiculous about that statement is that no one does. There is merely the illusion of it, but the cold hard fact about life is we don’t. Everything we have can be taken in an instant.

I chose this song because it comes from a time when I didn’t even have an “illusion.” My life was absolute chaos. The only goal being survival, because it was a “character building” path. What I gained from the experience was personal growth.

It’s eerie to me how even current events can align itself with even my own personal narrative. I had planned on doing “KR Cube” prior to the recent supreme court leak as it was the next logical step from the previous post about my first boyfriend. Yet, here I am once again having zero control over life.

Unfortunately I don’t speak Japanese. Even after the solid year I listened to Dir En Grey, I still couldn’t tell you what any of the songs were about. The lyrics come easy enough. I can spout off some without any accompaniment, but the meaning is lost entirely. I could have chosen their one English song from that time, but that’s too easy. (Although, “Child Prey” remains one of my most favorite.) What spoke to me through these songs was the music. It was loud, high tempo, erratic, and unpredictable. Then the band itself is hardcore death metal, where blood and almost “occult” ritual showmanship was the “perfect balance” to my prior Christian life.

The gore that accompanied Dir En Grey genuinely scared me when I was first introduced to them, the same day of my “first date” with Sergio. This group of friends identified as “goth.” They dressed all in black, listened to “counter culture” tunes, and was obsessed with the “occult.” They were rebelling against their parents and most of all society. I was entranced.

Up until this day I was a “goody two shoes.” I only ever fought with my parents over bad grades and missed assignments. This also came on the heels of my obsession with anything associated with the 1950’s. My dress and demeanor accompanied this self imagined “essence” of the time. So, when I watched the lead singer, Kyo, stick his index fingers as hooks into his mouth and “cut” himself, convulse, and spit out a mouthful of blood I was more than shocked.

Do I really want to go down this road? I thought to myself.

It turns out, I did. I was chasing a boy. And one does stupid things for “love.”

From these “goth” friends I ventured forth into uncharted musical territory. In addition to Dir En Grey, I listened to Slipknot, Korn, Staind, Bad Religion, System of a Down… anything that appealed to the constant anger dwelling just below the surface. This genre of music only appeals to me in these specific circumstances. Otherwise I cannot tolerate it. It’s grating and irritating. I like a voice I can hear and understand.

The ability to not comprehend what Dir En Grey was singing drove me crazy. I wanted to know what I was listening to. I am an audiophile and while I loved the music, I needed the lyrics to match the mood it was painting. At least, I did until I didn’t. Becky insisted on putting them on whenever we got into the car. In particular I remember her listening to KR Cube, from the passenger seat, and doing the same choreography the lead singer did from the concert DVD she watched daily.

So, my only choice was to go with the flow.

I spent every non-school moment with these friends, primarily Becky and Jose. She was my best gal-pal and we hung out constantly and when I got there, she would immediately call him to join us. I would chauffer her over to his mom’s apartment to pick him up. She had the biggest crush on him and the two are still the best of friends, while I am just a casual acquaintance. It was Jose, nicknamed Amie-sama, who introduced J-rock and anime into Becky’s and my lives.

While she took off at a sprint enjoying one series after another I genuinely struggled. I so wanted to like anime but try as I might I really do not. I can appreciate the art style and the cohesive story structure, but that’s where it ends. At least in regards to animated series. Later, when these two weren’t as prominent, I became obsessed with manga. It just sucks that it wasn’t when I could have enjoyed it with them.

It didn’t occur to me until I was ruminating on what to write about in this blog the other day, that this period of my life was only about six months. At the time it felt so much longer, and prior to breaking it down I would have sworn it had been at least two years. I don’t know if that speaks to the ease of that time or the struggle.

As I previously mentioned, this was a journey for character building.

While Becky and I were very similar (both late in life babies, only children, who went to Christian school) where we were most alike was mental health. I had undiagnosed depression and she was (also undiagnosed) bipolar. She has made leaps and bounds with her mental health and honestly is not the same person. I wish I could say the same.

I don’t want you to get the impression that she was some kind of monster. Far from it. It’s just not ever having been around someone struggling with mental health can be a lot to handle. During this time her mood swings were wide but I learned to move with them. This is where I learned to love someone despite what they said and did. Being around her 95% of the time was an absolute blast. No one can make me laugh like she can, truly. But, there were some dark moments when he anger got the best of us. In turn I became angry too.

Dealing with my first true heartbreak, my own and others mood swings, and knowing my mother would be appalled to know I was a faguette, held me in this constant state of anger. Like the buzz of electricity through high voltage power lines. This was only exacerbated due to my inner struggle fighting against the current of my previously held religious beliefs. Nothing is harder to undo than the years of religious brainwashing. I’m still dealing with it and I haven’t believed since I was 17. But once I held Sergio’s hand for the first time, I ditched them without a second thought. I refused to associate with something that would keep me from feeling the love and acceptance I felt just being with who I wanted.

An awesome highlight from this time was that I got so many traffic tickets with my provisional license that I lost it for 6 months. One time I ran a red light, a couple blocks from where I work today, and nearly went head-on into a cop car. What made that traffic stop EXTRA FUN was the giant, bright orange construction cones I had in the back seat of my car, with “Property of Kern County” spray painted onto the sides. The cop joked with me about having a “fuzzy navel” or a “Sex on the beach” but didn’t make a peep about the cones.

The final traffic ticket that suspended my license was from doing 85 in a 65, on the way home with Becky and her then boyfriend. My car at the time was a station wagon and the speedometer maxed out at… 85. The cop claimed to have clocked me doing 90, but wrote 80 on the ticket. This had happened out of town and I was sure he wouldn’t show up to my court date. However, come the day of my trial, the judge sat and WAITED for him to get there. The judge and I had become quite familiar with each other.

Since then I have gotten maybe 2 tickets and I avoid traffic court at all costs because of the anxiety it brings me.

March 1, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 8 – High Hopes

The beauty of this song is that it perfectly encapsulates the person it represents in my mind. It has this very high energy, happy beat that gives the impression that the lyrics encased match it’s tempo. When you really look at them they are not. They speak of constant struggle and strife while always maintaining an enthusiastic demeanor. But they’re sung in such a way that it tricks the casual listener. It’s only those who truly listen that will know.

Let us also not fail to mention that it is also an awesome song choice to play in Beat Saber.

Tony is someone who seemed to magically appear out of the ether. As if he was called from some mystical place to my and my husbands world. I had had no idea that he and my husband had been talking. It wasn’t until late one evening, as Charlie and I were relaxing in the hot tub, that he informed me that someone was coming over to join us. My skin prickled with excitement because I thought he was coming over for… uh… other reasons besides to have a couple drinks and soak in the warm water.

He arrived, stripped down to his birthday suit, and hopped in. We spent hours talking, and much to his and my husband’s dismay, I lingered much longer than they had anticipated. Half drunk at 2 in the morning I had to be an adult and get to bed. It was a work night, and unless I wanted a massive hangover it was best for me to skedaddle.

Reluctantly I went to bed… Then I woke up with a start and looked out the bedroom window and saw the two having a very intimate time. Upset I packed up some clothes and headed over to my mother’s to sleep in her spare room. My husband called to inquire my whereabouts and I said I just had to get out of there.

Tony left, drunk, because he felt like he had upset the balance and didn’t want to be involved in the drama.

After some thinking I realized why it bothered me so much. It wasn’t that I had seen them together. That is one of my weird sexual kinks. Why I got upset was, like I had mentioned earlier, I had assumed it was meant to be a group effort. Which it was not. There was a lack of communication on my husband’s part. Had I been informed, it wouldn’t have been a thing. I would have also gotten way more sleep than I ended up getting. This episode was merely something we could learn and grow from.

The next day I found Tony on Scruff and apologized. I told him that there was no hard feelings I was just drunk and being weird. I didn’t want this episode to ruin anything between him and Charlie.

It surprisingly did not.

He came over the next night and brought along his PS4. He had the whole VR set-up and we ended up playing Beat Saber, this ADORABLE little robot game, and one based around the Paranormal Activity movies. It was a blast.

Tony invited himself to one of Charlie’s appointments at Cedars-Sinai. It was the follow-up nerve test to see what change their was from February. As it turns out, there was a lot. The next appointment that Tony invited himself to was the one where the doctor casually dropped his diagnosis. However, my husband did not pay any attention. Because, when we read it a couple days later on his patient-portal synopsis we both had a breakdown.

That night Charlie, Tony, Josh and I all hopped into the hot-tub and drank. What else do you do when you’ve been given news that you have a terminal illness?

For lack of any term, I have stolen the one coined by the Mormon polygamists. Instead of sister-wives I call Tony my brother-husband. I would do anything for him. He very quickly became a huge part of Charlie’s and my life. And one I wouldn’t and couldn’t do without. Everyday I thank the universe for sending out the call, or answering it, and having him arrive.

As it turns out, he has been in our orbit, but as a secret shadow planet that only comes into view every millennia. He had attended many of the offensive comedy shows I had been in, he LITERALLY worked down the street from me (he and his work mates used to watch me bizarrely pull up into a parking space in front of their shop and smoke cigarettes) and he knows so many of our random acquaintances. That last one is common in a small town, though. So it isn’t that out of the ordinary.

I chose this song mainly because it was a repeated choice while playing Beat Saber in our old living room. (That and “Greatest Show.”) It also matches how I feel about him. He always has high hopes and is such an optimistic person. Always. Every once in awhile it cracks under the exhaustion of trying to maintain the show. But with a little intermission he is right back to it. The only thing in the song that doesn’t match is he is one in a million.

P.S. I will eventually delve into more obscure songs at some point in time. I feel like everything so far has been “Top 40” and I am better than that.

P.P.S. I will also eventually catch up to the proper order. I’m a blog behind in my goal.

February 15, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 6 – I’m Not Okay

This song is my go-to emo ballad. I scream it at the top of my lungs until every ounce of breath has left them. I’m left gasping for air but it’s well worth it. No song evokes my inner rage more than this. The sudden build up and explosion of music brings to mind a big wheel perched at the top of a steep hill. With an unexpected push, I’m launched forward. My destination is only a hope as I’m hurtling downhill. The plastic pedals and wheels spinning uncontrollably. All I can do is keep my legs elevated out as not to get my pants knotted and twisted. Or, worse, have the skin stripped from my shins. The intro perfectly encapsulates the trajectory of my life from this point.

In a roundabout way I started to tell these little stories linearly. I hadn’t intended to do that, but that’s just the magic of writing sometimes. It takes me where it wants to go. And I blindly follow.

For a very brief moment my life was good. My husband had I had worked out our relationship. I met josh. I had finally passed my real estate appraiser’s exam and received my license. And I graduated Summa Cum Laude with my AA. My outlook was nothing but clear skies. Then began the downward descent.

I was having some pain and decided to go to the doctor. They did a CT scan of my abdomen and it was there that they noticed I had an enlarged prostate. They informed me of this little fact as I was on my way to the eye doctor for what turned out to be a bad case of pink eye. All-in-all it was a lovely day.

They sent me for bloodwork and more tests. At this point I had already decided that I had prostate cancer. What else could it be? I told my husband and boyfriend that I had no desire to treat it. It could lead to erectile dysfunction and I wasn’t about to live that life. Hard pass. (That joke was for us.) Both of them protested. It is one of the most treatable cancers and if left alone could spread to other parts of the body and turn into much more deadly forms of the disease.

After a rough couple months the final diagnosis was I just have an enlarged prostate. Along with an enlarged spleen. Two things no one would ever want to be big. I guess I just have all the luck, y’know.

Crisis averted! However it absolutely opened my eyes to the fear of disease and made me hyperaware of respecting someone’s wishes.

About a year after that my mother began acting very strange. It started with her speech. She was unable to say certain words and would explain how she could see it in her mind but couldn’t verbalize it. We went and had a brain scan done and the doctor ruled it a non-issue. The nurse practitioner recommended memorizing and saying bible verses. (I rolled my eyes so hard at that suggestion.)

Then my mother took a hard left turn. She talked about the walls of the house leaning. The floor feeling wet. And she would not stop shuffling papers. The real moment of absolute horror was when my mother sat and read and re-read the same single piece of paper for 30 minutes. It occurred to me that something was very, very wrong.

We went back and did another scan and in that time she had 7% brain mass loss. An average person with Alzheimer’s is usually at 3%. The next time we saw the doctor it was conclusive. She was in the early stages of the disease. The nurse whispered it to me while my parents sat at the other end of the exam room. Why I was the only one she bothered to tell is beyond me. Don’t you want to tell the person who has it?

Since then it has been every nurse or doctor whispering shit to just me and not her. “She can’t live on her own.” Yeah? Tell her that! My mother doesn’t believe me when I tell her stuff. Of the few things she can say without any trouble is: “that’s what you say.”

I remember the night my mother’s diagnosis became undeniable. I put this song on and screamed it all the way home, crying. All I could think about was how she would have all of her memories, her words, her identity ripped from her. In the end she will basically die because her body will have forgotten how to live.

But you really need to listen to me
Because I’m telling you the truth
I mean this, I’m okay! (Trust me)