This is to be one of my all-purpose updates, which I enjoy so much.
In between academic responsibilities and the drama of making this blog undetectable to my birth-mother's family, I haven't had time to discuss events in my life for a while.
Tuesday was my last day of regular classes, and, true to form, I skipped. I was up at three o'clock on Tuesday morning when I decided to double check my exam schedule. As I was doing this, I remembered that I had a Philosophy 151 paper to turn in and wasn't sure of the due date.
To my shock and horror, I discovered upon opening an old e-mail from my professor that the paper was to be turned in by noon that day, eight hours later.
"Alright," I thought. "I'll get up, do it tomorrow, and e-mail it to him at the start of class."
A clause in the paper requirements, however, mentioned that only early submissions could be sent via e-mail, so instead of waiting I just stayed up until four and punched the whole thing out in an hour. I knew after that that I wasn't getting up for a ten-thirty class, so I stayed home and spent the day studying for today's Government 305 final exam, which I'm fairly confident I aced.
I have two journalism finals tomorrow, neither of which I am bothering to study for. A friend (Finnish Girl) sent me the study guide, but because it came from school in Vista format and both of us have XP at home neither could open the file. It's all going to be AP material and current events anyway.
The only thing I really have to watch is getting there on time.
Our professor, who my friend and I have nicknamed "Eyebrows" because of his expressive brow movement, wrote on the syllabus that "students must be present at the start of the exam period," and there's no doubt in my mind that he'd prevent a commuter running ten minutes late from taking the test. Some people are just awesome like that.
Finnish Girl and I have another journalism class together on Tuesdays and Thursdays, this one taught by Professor W. This man has a peculiar accent that to me carries small traces of the western South, perhaps Kentucky-based, and he has the odd habit of prounouncing certain W words with an H.
"Hwhy?" he often asks. "Should a journalist cover or not cover a story like this, from an ethical perspective?"
This quirk has become a running joke between Finnish Girl and me, and we always shoot each other laughing glances whenever we hear it, which is several times each period.
I've come across this pronunciation before, usually from older people, with W words that have an H immediately after the W. Examples are white, where, when, etc.
The other day though, Professor W. came out of nowhere and hit us with, "That would be kind of hweird."
Finnish Girl and I both snorted, burying our giggling mouths into our hands.
He compounded this later on the same day by relaying to us the tale of a sensational trial that had once occurred.
"I remember years ago," he said. "There was a spectacular rape trial."
He'd hesistated before saying the word "trial," so that for one hilarious and confusing moment our entire class thought that the professor was recalling some "spectacular rape" from the past.
"Isn't that hweird?" I asked Finnish Girl as we left the class. "Did you hear hwhat he hwas talking about? About that spectacular rape?"
For days afterward, we'd greet each other with, "There was a spectacular rape..." every time we met.
Next Monday I must turn in an Anthropology 114 paper that will serve as my final, on Tuesday I'll drive to campus for my Philosophy 151 exam, and then I'm free.
What am I to do with that freedom? After the summer begins for me on May 12th (which is also Thomas's fourteenth birthday), there are plans to be made.
One of the first things on my list is searching for a new job. Western City Movie Theater has provided me with friends and with an income at a time when jobs are scarce, but I feel I've exhausted opportunities for personal development there. Most of my co-workers come from a different socio-economic class than I, and the bitter exhaustion they're already beginning to acquire is a downer and a bore.
Call me superficial, but hearing about how terrible other people's lives are all the time does get old. This summer, I'm looking to party and have fun. Next Fall, I'll be headed back to school. For them, though, nothing about the movie theater is part-time. When you have to work as many hours as possible, you don't have much time to go out, and in that there is a serious impediment to further bonding.
Beyond that, the culture that Manager creates, the values of violence and masculinity that he and several other (though not all) male employees have embraced, is completely unappealing to me. During the winter, they tried to bring me into their circle, and I refused.
In several conversations, Black Dress Girl, who no longer works at the theater but dates Assistant Manager, has advised me not to come out to anyone at work.
"It would just give them a reason to fuck with you," she said.
I don't really want to have to associate with people who are like that.
Quitting is not an option at this point, as I don't have another job, and, if we're being honest, am unlikely to find one. I'm going to try, but I know how the market is.
Don't get me wrong; it's not as if I want to leave Western City Movie Theater, and even if I found employment elsewhere I'd likely continue to work reduced hours at the cinema.
I just want to meet other people, different types of people, and make more friends.
There was a certain restaurant in Western City that wanted to hire me last summer, before I got the job at the theater, and I remember a very attractive gay boy who worked there. That will be the first place I apply.
Another thing I'm looking forward to is relationships. This, my twenty-second summer (I was born in April), will be my first as an acknowledged gay person. As the sweltering sun vaults into the blue sky and beautiful tempests wreak their havoc on black clouds, I would like to open myself to new experiences.
Summertime is often characterized by sudden thunderstorms, violent things that come out of nowhere and spew warm rain onto blossoming flowers.
I want to be overtaken by those rains. I want the downpour to drench me, to open my petals and leave their pink silk covered in glistening pearls of water.
I've gone twenty-one years without feeling a lover's touch, and that extended drought has given me an insatiable thirst. I want lips and thighs and eyes and caresses and so many kisses. I want it bad.
The picture above is of Gay Boy. From what I can gather, Gay Boy is very fond of me. We've never met in person, but a mutual friend named Sacagawea showed him my pictures over Facebook and before long he added me.
He is twenty years old and goes to school in Marble City.
We e-mailed back and forth for a bit, and while the conversations never became explicit I got the impression that he found me attractive.
"What kind of guys do you like?" I asked.
"Thin and youthful, with shaggy hair," he responded.
Anyway, I've decided that if the opportunity comes I will hook up with him. I don't necessarily intend to have sex with him, as intercourse is something I'm not comfortable rushing into, but there are many things short of making love that I'm eager to try.
Believe it or not, Gay Boy would not usually be my type. It goes without saying that his body is phenomenal, but he's not as pretty as the kind of guys I'm usually attracted to. Still, he's in great shape, definitely cute if not ideal, and for an inexperienced young man in a rural area with little knowledge of gay culture, waiting for the perfect guy is likely to be a long wait indeed.
My hope is that Gay Boy will be the first or one of the first of several partners, and that through him I can meet other people. Maybe he has some really cute friends.
I want a guy who's innocent and sweet, who's as new to this as me. That guy might not be the first guy, though, and he's definitely not Gay Boy, who's been known to date professional men and accept all the material perks therein.
In all of this I have yet to publicly come out. I know, however, that I will do so by the end of the summer.
Then this Fall it's off to school, where an openly-gay BB will confront the student body. How thrilling and frightening that is!
I applied for housing on May 4th, the day the list opened, and have been told that due to my early submission my likelihood of being granted a spot is very high. However, the tuition battle that I always wage with my parents around this time of year has begun to gear up. More on that in the next post.