Mars Needs Gay People.

I can't imagine why people would want to create a colony underground on Mars...  the surface alone is enough to depress Robin Williams...  I think I read only three percent of the planet is "habitable."
Most of it underground.
But I can understand the need to get off THIS planet.
Sometimes I can't even breathe on THIS planet.
I'm not really referring to air quality. I have spied so many aliens, vampires, ghouls and goblins; so many monsters and villians - I know, I know, it takes all kinds to make a world...
Escapism is a favorite hobby of mine, and I was entranced by movies like Total Recall that told of domed communities on the red planet - the stark contrast of the landscape outside the domes to the decadence of the inside of those domes...  oh, yeah, such a domed existence is appealing, right?  But where would you escape to?
Personally, I am glad for the privatization of space travel, because I believe consumerism will drive progress way better than any government program...  but will I, in my lifetime, see it become possible for ME to get off this planet?

Antimatter Spaceships Could Make Long Flights Before End Of Century, Space Consultants Say

I keep scheming on ways to get Richard Branson to include me in his colonization plans. Last I checked, sadly, the man doesn't even know I'm alive. Certainly I didn't make his list: "Obviously, you are going to want scientists initially. You're going to want physicians, you're going to want comedians, you're going to want fun people, beautiful people, ugly people - a good cross-section of what happens on Earth - on Mars. People have got to be able to get on together, because it's going to be quite confined."  I believe that his accidental omission of gay people is negligent - someone has GOT to help  decorate the planet. I guess, perhaps, that I am included in the list, in a round-about way - I am, after all, fun. And gay people would be the solution to the culture dilemma - apparently lacking on Mars.
Branson claims he will see this colonization occur in his lifetime. So, I have sixteen years to introduce myself, ingratiate myself, and make him realize how badly Mars needs gay people. I suppose getting him to fall in love with me is out of the question.
My current strategy is to find the fountain of youth, regress to my teenage years, and make the Catholic priest he selects to go want me as his trusty altar boi.
If that doesn't work, I will resort to Plan 9 - recruit the undead to take over his ship and take me with them.

Self Discovery

Writing takes practice, whether you are good at it, or not.  And writing requires "headspace" - something an introvert like myself craves more than anything. To stay in practice, I'm forcing myself to write, even if it's inane little entries like this, even if their frequency is sporadic at best, even if the topics are frivolous and inconsequential.

(The photo included here proves that.)

Introversion is a curse - and a blessing. Curse, because I'd rather bury my face in a book or video game or a quiet corner of the world, or just coding html or other such stuff - but life insists on thrusting me into a job where I must interact with people, forced into situations where public interaction is expected, or times when people just won't let me be introverted. Blessing, because I CAN find that headspace - sit in a quiet room or place in nature for hours without the need for the crutches others seem to need for entertainment, such as television or radio or the like.

In college Psychology courses, I did many self-assessments, in which I discovered what I already knew: I work best: without supervision; on tasks that require attention to detail; and in very small groups or by myself. I also discovered that speaking to large groups does not bother me, but interacting in large groups does.

This journey of self discovery uncovered other tidbits that seem contradictory:
I discovered that I needed a small push to overcome initial shyness, and yet I'm a bit of an exhibitionist. I have a tendency to avoid eye-contact in small groups (or one on one) and yet enjoy public speaking to large groups. I don't mind public displays of affection, and yet I find a conflict in public incites a flight mode in me.

Making new friends is hard for me - exceedingly hard. I'm NEVER the first person to extend my hand for a handshake, NEVER the first to say hello, NEVER the one to make eye-contact. This is exacerbated by any physical attraction to a person.

And yet, I'm hugger, physically affectionate, a personal space violator.

One might very well draw the conclusion that I am a cat.

And when I fall in love, I fall HARD.

Alter Egos

So, Facebook has kindly informed me that some dog has just joined Facebook.

Now mind you, I don't mind dogs, not one bit.

But why does a dog need a Facebook page?

And why does Facebook feel the need to inform me?

Perhaps Roxy Reagan is an alter ego. Perhaps it is a person who feels the need for anonymity, for whatever reason. I know lots of people who maintain alter egos for some very good reasons.

Exhibit A: A friend works in a public office, who in his real identity engages in leather events, fetish events, and gay events. This friend maintains one Facebook ID for friends he can be himself with, and another Facebook ID that is more "socially acceptable" for his coworkers and the general public to see (Believe me, the "socially acceptable" bit is not my personal commentary - I think it is a travesty that he feels he cannot be himself everywhere and that he feels the need to hide some aspects of who he is).

Exhibit B: Stage persona: I am acquainted with several friends who have developed characters onstage - drag characters, especially - in which they maintain a Facebook ID that stays in-character at all times. One such person is a public figure in the gay community, meaning (s)he has built a drag career as a maître d' of the GLBT community. So, not your ordinary late night drag show in a bar or club, but as an event host for a parade, for a fundraiser, for a public protest, for a grand opening, etc.

Exhibit C: A good friend of mine maintains a Facebook ID that allows for an exploration of crossdressing, without fear that his children will stumble upon a photo of her high-heeling it across an airport to catch a plane (great blog, too, by the way, about life and travel as a crossdresser - check it out! I have great respect for the reasoning behind the decision to maintain the alter ego, but I sure wish parents wouldn't go to such extremes to overprotect their children, or perhaps I should say, they shouldn't have to go to such extremes. I'm sure it's way more complicated than that, but how I wish it didn't have to be!).

Exhibit D: A friend of mine created a false identity because of a bad situation in which her private life was exploited through a hacking incident. Despite the circumstances, she still wished to maintain contact with her friends, so hence the alter ego.

Exhibit E: I personally have two Facebook ID's because I demonstrate electronic goods to the public in retail settings, which frequently involves showing customers Facebook on a smart-phone or a computer/internet product - and I have no desire to show strangers my personal life on Facebook. So I have a generic, homogenized Facebook ID that includes photos of me with Justin Bieber and me with customers or clients, rather than the kind of photos they'd find on my personal account, of me drunk or me nearly naked or me in a kilt for Halloween!

For clarity: But whatever the reasons are for people having an alter ego, I don't judge. I might have unsolicited opinions, but I love my friends unconditionally, and yearn for a life-less-complicated in which they can be comfortable with who they are. In the case of Exhibit A, I am friends with only one of that person's Facebook IDs - the one where I can be myself - he invited me to be friends with both, but I refuse to compromise or censure myself in his newsfeed as if being gay or having sexual encounters was a bad, bad thing. Exhibit B folks, on the other hand, I freely "friend" both personas where invited, because, of course, I support art and personal expression, and feel that I can be myself to both.  Exhibit C: I am friends with both alter egos, because I feel he and crossdressers/transgenders should not have to hide who they are and I fully accept and support him in every way. Exhibit D? Hurrah for not letting some hacker ruin your online experience - and if that hacker was an ex, seek a fun way of having your revenge!  Exhibit E needs no explanation.

BUT: I find myself baffled by "Roxy Reagan," and why Facebook would inform me of this oddity. There's a gossip story hidden in that Facebook ID, perhaps?  Is this the underdog I'm always hearing about and secretly cheering for?

Some Emails Are Hard To Delete.

Andrew Christian emails, for example.

They're like rays of sunshine on a icy moon.

Ways To Be A Heathen On Sunday Morning...

I always thought Hookahs were things you didn't talk about, sort of a behind-closed-door thing that signified something dark or taboo. I may have even been under the impression that Hookahs were the devil's plaything. I even had the idea in my head that perhaps they were an item commonly found in drug paraphernalia.
A party, not so long ago, changed my mind. At this party a friend convinced me to "try it," and I initially declined, but after I was assured that there were no drugs involved, I gave in.
I used to smoke cigarettes, you see, and never once liked the flavor or smell of burning tobacco. I only ever really smoked for social reasons.  Many years ago I gave that up.
But these Hookahs, they are a completely different experience.  Not at all harsh, very light smoking experience, best shared among a group of friends over conversation and music.
A second party experience affirmed that Hookahs were something I found relaxing and enjoyable. So I decided I was in the market for one of my own.
I found an affordable personal sized one, pictured here.

So I was perusing YouTube when I first got this hookah and watched about a dozen video how-to's.
Learned about several flavored tobaccos, called Shisha ( http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shisha ) and how to perforate the foil, how to break up the Shisha, and what the best flavors are. Starbuzz Tobacco ( http://www.starbuzztobacco.com/ ) uses honey, not molasses. The flavor I'm using today is called Mystic UFO.
One video blog casually suggested to use "other liquids" in the bottom, stating that some people use alcohol or Gatorade or stuff like that.
So this Sunday morning, I'm in the bathtub, with cheap leftover champagne from some party in the bottom of my hookah and drinking chai tea. And blogging from my iPhone. Am I a good heathen, or what??

The Other End of the Table

Sometimes I find myself at the other end of the table. And I think to myself, how did this happen? Who did the seating assignments, and don't they know I don't know any of the people around me?

And so I sit quietly, as the conversation around me makes it obvious that these people, they know each other. They share some stories, have a few laughs, and I smile politely and realize my gaze has settled on the other end of the table. The end where the people I knew are sitting.

Breasts get in the way as a waitress reaches between to place drinks on the table. The left one actually makes contact with my nose. She didn't mean to, it was an accident, and I glance around to see if anyone saw. She saw, and didn't care. He noticed the breasts, and assumes I liked it. The other two are heavily engaged in conversation, and the last one is trying to get the waitress to come stand by him.

Nobody saw.

Down at the other end of the table, though, someone did. In fact, is telling the others around him about it. Surely the dialogue will include how astounded I was at the appearance of breasts. Laughter ensues, but I'm not sure what was said. But my imagination knows.

The appearance of breasts at nose level also, of course, means, my drink is here. Double shot of tequila chilled and strained into a wine glass, with a wedge of lime teetering on the lip. I sip - as quality tequila is meant to be sipped. The waitress asks how it is, because of course I painstakingly ordered it and she is concerned enough to insure I am satisfied that she did listen, she did listen. I nod approvingly and the breasts withdraw.

What she doesn't know is that I said jalapeño, not lime, and that I'm not a fan of breasts.

But the tequila, oooh, it is good.

It warms me. Stuff the lime in a cocktail napkin and tuck it behind a water glass on the table and look around. It seems someone has asked me a question. Surely it was just a polite inquiry, perhaps they wonder why I like my tequila in this fashion. Perhaps their only experience with tequila is the shot-glass-lime-salt variety in which the brand is meaningless and the Brand means nothing. I mumble a response, because I didn't hear the question.

But the tequila is good.

I painstakingly ordered it.

The other end of the table is lively now, and I look to that end for rescue. It is there, in their eyes, in his eyes, but there is simply not room, down there. But the invitation is there, in his eyes. A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and our eyes hold for a heartbeat or two.

But I did not answer the question. Or perhaps they did not hear the answer, or perhaps the answer wasn't obvious. So I'm drawn in to a conversation, inane though it may be, about words I can barely make out, as they are drowned out by the other end of the table.

Suddenly the tequila is good. And the questions make sense. The words coalesce, and I'm engaged, talking to the one that assumes I liked the breasts touching my nose. Talk now from the two there, about things that we have in common, such things we never knew. A flash fires, and a memory is made, the arms-length memories in which only heads are seen, and yet the other end of the table is not forgotten, never forgotten..

No-Good Samaritan

Sometimes our priorities are out of whack. Like, oh, say, when we want to save a life, or assist someone in pain, or help a person through an emotional time, or protect someone from abuse. This phenomena extends to all creatures, too.

Saving a life comes with risk, though. We might get sued. We might get arrested. We might get shunned. We might get yelled at.

Oh, come now, surely you can imagine many scenarios where the preceding statements are true. And not just true in regards to saving a life, but also true assisting someone in pain, or helping a person through an emotional time, or protecting someone from abuse or harm.

It boils down to a matter of perspective - and money.

A woman, rescued by a good-samaritan from a burning building, gets a broken hip in the process.  She sues the Samaritan!

A man ends the life of his-long suffering animal-friend. Gets the animal-rights activists fired up and now faces legal action.

A doctor gets asked by his patient to euthanize. He loses his license and must face jail time.

The perspectives of the people involved in these scenarios: surely they ALL believe THEY are right. Their belief-systems are sound, time-honored, maybe even "holy."

When faced with a moral dilemma, we often have to think quickly and decisively as to what the right thing to do is. In cool-calm-collected fashion, we all follow the right channels, right?  Report the crime, report the abuse, report the emergency - and stand idly by and wait for "the authorities" to handle it, right?

Why?

Please consider - what's different about the following statements, and how do you emotionally respond to them?


Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a person yell at another person?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a person hit another person?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a person yell at another person because he/she is black?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a person hit another person because he/she is black?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a parent yell at their child?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a parent hit their child?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a parent yell at their child because he/she is gay?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a parent hit their child because he/she is gay?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a pet owner fail to give their pet attention?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a pet owner fail to give their pet food/water?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a pet owner fail to give their child food/water?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a pet owner fail to give their child love?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a pet owner hit their pet?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a pet owner hit their spouse?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a parent yell at their spouse?
Can we (should we) stand idly by and watch a parent yell at their spouse because he/she is gay?


At what point is it okay to intercede, and what motivates us to do so, or not do so?  And what is the appropriate course of action?

Easy enough to sit at our computers and think, "I know what I'd do," but when you are facing real-life situations, with real-life consequences, real-life danger, real-life pain and emotion - DO YOU STILL KNOW WHAT TO DO?

And if you decided to "call the authorities" and place your trust in "the system," while real people or real animals suffer, ask yourself - could you have made more of a difference? Could you have saved someone pain, death, dismemberment or emotional trauma by taking more direct action?

And if so, what stopped you? Risk of getting sued? Risk of getting scorned?  Risk of losing your livelihood?

Doing the right thing is a matter of perspective. It's based on belief systems taught by society, by family, by media, by religious organizations, by radicals.  Consider the influences on YOUR perspectives carefully, and then challenge your reactions to the "can we (should we)" statements above.