Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Super Bowel Sunday Approacheth

Hey there!

This isn't going to be a blog entry as much as it will be a mish-mash of things I'd just like to document, now that I've got an evening just to chill. I can't believe I've only made 2 other entries this month, but hey, nowhere did I mention that my goal was to blog more often right?? Funny how I feel disappointment over it though. Oh well.

Speaking of funny, I want to mention before I forget that Ted and I were invited to a Super "Bowel" party this weekend. hee A friend of mine with notoriously bad spelling has opened his heart and home to all his friends, and I'm hoping to God it's a football party and not some kinda "skat" party. (if you don't know what skat is... I suggest you not look it up. And assume that I fear a freestyle jazz-singing fete.) Teasing of course; it is most certainly a football party as he asked everyone to wear (spelled "ware") the proper attire. Specifically, shoulder pads and jock straps and not much else. hee. You'd have to know him. He's a sweetie with a constant smile on his face and an easy laugh. So viva le Super Bowel!

In other news... "heavens to mergatroid" do I love my iPod!!! The new 30gig one I got for my birthday. It truly is the most genius musical medium invention ever imagined. I'm still loading music on it and I'm up to almost 1700 songs. It holds 7500. There's nothing quite like it in the world for a music lover. And Ted is loving my nano even though it's a hand-me-down. God bless you Apple dude, whatever the hell your name is. you deserve to be rich.

Ahh, as I sit here with the dogs missing Ted (who's away in New Orleans - yep Louisiana - for a Sales Conference til Friday.) I'm wondering what I'd ever do without him. I truly do feel incomplete without him as hokey as that might sound. I'm just a hapless boob without him in a lot of ways. When he's not around I just kind of putter around in my underwear, wondering if I should make the bed at 9pm at night. I know, that's awful, but I never - ok rarely - make the bed. Ted claims I just don't do it right. And I must confess to sympathizing with those slob-type guys who don't quite get the point of making the bed when you're only going to mess it up again each night. Yeah, yeah, not when company's coming n' all that, but sheesh. Luckily I have Ted to make sure I'm getting into a fresh, tightly tucked bed each night. I miss him when he's not here, and I don't sleep as well... that's for sure.

Last night I had one of those "is it a dream" dreams in which some lady called and left 87 messages on our answering machine (and kept waking me up -in the dream- but not actually). She was distraught and looking to contact her daughter whom she believed to be away vacationing with her boyfriend in Jamaica. Her daughter had not returned home yet and she was understandably upset to have not heard from her. Finally I got up to answer her 88th call to break the news to her that she was calling the wrong number and waking me up with each call. Audibly disappointed, she promised me that she wouldn't call again, and we said good-bye. It was then that I realize I was in a house that wasn't my own, and all the windows were exposed and there was a huge outdoor concert going on across a field behind the house with crowds mulling about and people crossing the lawn and seeing me through the windows. I'm never one to just let people see in, so I went about the task of drawing all the curtains and shades in the house (as if it were mine and I knew exactly where every window was). Then the phone rings again, and it's the boyfriend of the missing daughter, calling to ask if I had heard from the mother and to tell her they were both fine if I heard from her again. Bizarro! But it gets more weird from there... because when I tell him that he just missed her for the 88th time... he tells me that I sound really good to him and initiates phone sex. Yee haw. But of course, as I always do when the dream's getting sexual... I wake up! To the sound of the damned alarm on our stereo that's set for 5:30am. The alarm that I have no idea how to unset, because it's so damned complicated and Ted always takes care of it. So until he returns I will be waking up at 5:30am to shut it off and wait for my cell phone to give me my proper wake-up call at a more godly hour. At least I know how to set and unset it. At any rate, I'm sure I'll have less unsettling dreams once Ted is home safe and sound. Until then, I wonder if the boyfriend will call back tonight! -har-

Blah... and now the topic that I was purposefully leaving to the end so as not to create yet another entry that's somber and possibly uncomfortable for others to read. So consider yourself forewarned that if you don't really care to partake in the ongoing saga that is my life-altering reveal to my mother that her beloved son is a homosexual, then you should probably stop reading now.

Still with me? Of course you are. ...thank you.

Yeah, so when last I spoke of this I was going to mail the infamous letter, that night. Well, I mailed it the next morning, which was a Friday. And my mom had it by Monday. God Bless Canada Post. But I'm skipping ahead. In preparation for Hurricane Shirley blowing in off the coast of denial, I did what any good brother would do, and called both my sisters to warn them of the potential for hysterical behaviour. For my sister Cheryl, this was alright, because she'd received a previous warning before Christmas that this was an inevitability and she's known since 94 that I'm gay. Darlene however, was getting it two-fold, since I was essentially "coming out" (God I hate that term.) to her AND preparing her for mom to go sub-atomic. Luckily, Darlene took it like a champ and didn't pass any judgement even though I'm sure she had a bit of conflict to deal with, given that of the 3 of us, she's been the only child to pursue a path similar to my mom's faith. She was wonderful about it to be honest.

Thus far it's been great for my relationship with my sisters I have to say. I can't recall a time when we've spent so much time talking on the phone and just getting reacquainted.

My mom on the other hand, although showing remarkable restraint has been predictably bitter, indignant and self-righteous, like I've "done this" to her. And I won't go into details of what she said, because although not intentionally hurtful, she can't help but be inappropriate and infuriating. And I don't really want to look back on this and remember what she said. Yeah, I've spoken to her once (this past Sunday) because she called to assure me that despite the fact that I've been listening to the devil's lies, she will always love me and that I should never believe otherwise. I guess that's encouraging in itself. I sincerely hope she surprises me, but I'm not holding my breath. She shouldn't have called me at all yet because she's neither ready to talk to me, nor listen when I speak. Thus I kept the conversation short and told her we should wait a little longer.

If nothing else comes from this, I take great comfort and liberty in being free of all the deception and in giving this conflict to her, I no longer feel like the one in the wrong for avoiding her and shutting her out. As much as I hesitate to use sports analogies, the ball is in her court, and if she chooses to keep me at a distance, I'm honestly quite OK with that. The distance between us is no longer my fault and that's good. I've sworn to myself that I will not lash out at my mom in anger over anything she might say (although I won't tolerate any verbal abuse or disrespect.) and I will be as compassionate of her feelings and respectful of her faith as I can possibly be. So far; so good. It feels great, and a big, heavy burden has been lifted from me. I'll keep you posted.

OK... longest blog entry ever... coming to a close. Whiny Basset Hound requiring pee-break and a belly-rub... in that order.

Song of the day... a choral group I heard on Classical 96 last week and ran out to buy the CD that night from Sam the Record Man downtown: "Libera" (a boys choir) and the title of their STUPENDOUSLY soul-fortifying CD is "Angel Voices". An apt title; believe me. And no, I'm not generally a choir lovin' type of guy. It's just beautiful music (entire CD). The song I heard (Going Home) is morbid yet comforting, and the album as a whole is very uplifting. I'll post the "Going Home" lyrics at a later date. But for now, I'll share the lyrics from my favourite track: "I Am the Day".

I am the day... soon to be born
I am the light before the morning
I am the night... that will be dawn
I am the end and the beginning

I am the alpha and omega
The night and day... the first and last

Illuminosa, immortalis
Sancta gloriosa
In aeterna

I am the life... soon to begin
I am the new hope in the morning
I am the darkness... soon to be light
I am the rising and the falling.


Keltie said...

Whew. I'm proud/happy/sad all at the same time. And I'm sure you get why I feel each of those things so I won't go overboard spelling it all out.

The gist of it is this: I love you, Jo. I'm glad you did something so necessary and hard for you and that there was unexpected good in it as a result. You KNOW I'm cheering you on.

John said...

I love you too Bo. Thank you for your support. You're one of the very few who would know exactly what my mom can be like and why this would be so difficult.

...And thank you to Jerome and my dear friend Summer. Friends are life's most precious commodity.

Jerome said...


You're gay?

Jerome said...

(You are much-loved. From many fronts. Know that at all times. And we need to get together more often.)