Travis

Stuck

2012-01-01T18:44:40Z

This is a fic I wrote for the QAF Gift Exchange for not_yet_defined. It's a bit angsty, but I hope she likes it, and that you do too. :) Happy New Year!! Read it under the cut. :)

STUCK

I wanna do something that matters.
Say something different.
Something that sets the whole world on its ear.
I wanna do something better with the time I was given.
I wanna try to touch a few hearts in this life.
Leave nothing less than something that says
I was here.

Debbie watched Michael and his family back down the driveway from the living room window and waved to them. After they got to the end of the street, she let out a sigh, closed the curtain, and turned the CD player back on. Humming along to the music, she turned to the tree and plucked an ugly, lumpy, red and green ornament from an upper branch.

"Sis, when did you start listening to country music?"

"Holy shit." Dropping the ornament, she turned and put her hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. "Jesus, Vic, you little fucker. You scared the hell out of me!" She reached out and gave her brother a big hug. After a moment, she let him go and punched him in the arm. Hard.

"Asshole, look what you made me do! Michael made that for me in the fourth grade!"

"Are you kidding? He's been trying to figure out a way to break that thing for years. He'll nominate me for sainthood." Vic picked up the CD cover next to the player, and said, "Just when did Kristin Chenowith start singing country music? Didn't she play a witch on West Wing?"

"How the hell do I know? Do I look like an encyclopedia?" Debbie snapped. "Be careful with that, it's a gift from Jenny Rebecca. What are you doing here?"

"Where else would I be on Christmas?"

"I don't know. Someplace with clouds, a harp, and Birkenstocks."

"Birkenstocks? Do people still wear those?"

"Shut up. Since you're here, make yourself useful and clean that mess up."

"Sorry. One of the benefits of being dead is not having to clean."

"Figures." Debbie stomped off to the broom closet. "Where the hell did my broom go? I told Emmett to keep his hands off my cleaning supplies. Every time he feels the need to reorganize, I can't find a damned thing for at least a week."

Vic laughed softly and pointed to the other side of the room next to the refrigerator. "So, what is the song, and why is it on repeat? It's sappy enough to raise the dead."

Debbie glared at him, got the broom and started to sweep up the pieces. "You're real funny, wise guy. It's just a song."

"If it was just a song, five times in a row would have been plenty."

"I don't know. I accidently hit the repeat button. Go take your meds and leave me the hell alone."

Vic looked at her for a long moment and said, "You know damn well I don't take meds anymore."

Debbie pointed the dust pan at Vic and said, "Right. Because you're fucking dead." She bent down and swept the broken ornament pieces into the dust pan.

"You're not still pissed off about that? It's been years."

"Fuck you."

Vic tugged on her wig, and said, "You better get ready, or you're going to be late."

Debbie swatted his hand away and emptied the dust pan into the trash can. "For what?"

"For the After-Christmas Fabulous Artistic Gift exchange at AIDS Project Pittsburgh."

Debbie put the broom and dust pan down, retied her apron and started to organize dirty dishes to wash. "Does 'not having to clean because I'm dead' include drying dishes?"

"Yes, it does."

Debbie lifted one eyebrow and pointed to a drawer. "Tough. The towels are in the same place they’ve always been."

Vic started to mutter, but grabbed a hand towel from the pile. "Well? What time does it start?"

"The FAG exchange doesn't happen anymore. It went on a ‘hiatus’ whatever the fuck that means a couple of years ago, because there wasn't enough interest. It never got started up again. Fuckers."

"That's too bad. It helped a lot of people."

"Yeah."

Vic stared at her for a minute. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Spill it Sis, or on the count of three, I'm going to drop this fabulous Christmas plate on the floor, watch you clean it up and laugh."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh no? Watch me. One. Two ..."

Debbie said, "Drop that plate, and I'll cut your nuts off."

"Two and a half ..."

"Fine, I'll tell you."

"I'm waiting."

"Give me the plate." Vic handed the plate back to her. Debbie whispered, "Sometimes it feels like a dream."

"What does?"

"AIDS. Sometimes I think I'm the only one who remembers."

"Deb, that's nonsense."

"Yeah. I know. It's just there's a whole generation about ready to take over and guide the world, and they don't know what happened. They don't know about the fight, the death, the panic. It's just something they read about in health class and have to struggle to remember. When I tell them to play safe, they look at me like I'm some kind of fucking nutcase."

Vic tweaked Debbie's nose. "Well, you have been known to do a great impression of a nut."

"Vic, I'm serious. Nowadays, it's just a couple of pills a day and they forget about it. Yesterday, I heard a news story that talked about clinical trials for a vaccine. In a couple of years, people will get a fucking shot, and there won't be any more AIDS."

"And that's bad, right?"

"No, that's what I wanted, dammit!"

"Then why are you upset?"

Debbie threw the plate on the floor and yelled as it shattered, "I don't know!"

"Okay." Vic pointed to where she had put the broom and dust pan earlier.

"What about all those people who died? What about all the diarrhea, the purple spots, the fear, the smells, the fundraising, the candlelight vigils, ACT UP, memorials and hospitals? What about the goddamned AIDS quilt rotting in a warehouse somewhere? What about you? You're fucking dead! What about me?"

Debbie stopped and put her hand over her mouth. Vic asked gently, "What about you?"

Debbie grabbed the broom and dust pan and furiously started to sweep.

"What about all the shit I went through? What about all the time I spent begging God to keep you alive? What about the thousands of doctor visits we went to? What about the nights you were too sick to sleep, so I stayed up to make sure you were okay?"

"You never said you minded any of that."

Debbie screamed, "Of course I didn't mind it. What else was I gonna do? You're my brother."

In the silence that followed, the only sound was Debbie's ragged breathing.

Debbie whispered, "What about all of us who watched our friends, lovers and family members die horribly? What about all of us that were left alone? How can all that just be forgotten and swept under the rug? Don't we deserve to be remembered?" Debbie angrily swiped at the tears running down her face.

Vic took Debbie by the chin and forced her to look at him. "That's the way life works, Sis. Horrible, deadly things happen. They're scary and we feel like we'll never get past the hurt. Then the world moves on and it all becomes part of history, and we forget about it. Except during the late nights when we're playing, ‘remember the old days when we had all of our teeth.’” Vic paused for a moment, and then said, “We heal."

Debbie started sobbing uncontrollably, rocking back and forth. "I can't."

"Yes, you can."

Debbie broke away from Vic and went to the living room to stare at the Christmas tree. "I think I'm stuck. I forgot how to live without being weighed down by AIDS, and everybody else just moved along easily.” After a moment, Debbie whispered, “I feel so alone without you."

Vic moved behind her, and put her arms around her waist. "You're not alone. You're surrounded by people who love you."

"Yeah, but they aren’t you."

They watched the Christmas tree lights flicker for a while. When the song started again in the background, Vic said, "Sis, I don't know the answers to all of this, but I'm pretty sure they'll start to show up after you turn off that fucking song."

Debbie laughed, wiped the tears from her eyes, listened to the chorus one more time, and turned off the CD player. She patted Vic on the cheek, and said, "I don't suppose you eat ice cream anymore, either, do you? That whole dead thing?"

"I may be dead, but I'm not crazy."

Debbie kissed Vic on the cheek. She turned to the freezer and asked over her shoulder, "Remember when it used to be just vanilla and chocolate? Now, it’s Cherry Garcia and Chunky Monkey. Don't get me started on that new 'Schweddy Balls' flavor. So, what’ll it be? Vic?"

Turning around, all she saw was the tree flickering with a soft glow.

"Vic?"

Nobody answered.

"I love you, Vic."

The glow flickered a bit more strongly and subsided. Debbie turned back to the freezer.

"Chunky Monkey it is."

Changes ...

2011-02-22T18:10:58Z

Morning, folks,

I've been on Live Journal since July of 2002. Long time. :) Ahhh, the days when Xie used to refer to me as one of those "live journal" people. hahaha.

When I started it was a place for me to deal with the demons and monsters in my psyche. Through that time, I've gotten sober, and changed a lot, and gotten a therapist. Of course, in many ways I've remained the same, and still exhibit the occasional insanity. I'm a work in progress, I guess. LOL. At some point, it turned more into a place for fandom, and following all the fabulous creativity that the ladies of QAF exhibit.

I haven't been journalling for a while though. I guess it started some time ago when I got a very nasty comment from a member of the fandom basically telling me to shut up and quit whining. Basically I told her to go fuck herself and to get off my journal, which she promptly did, but ever since then everytime I think about journalling something here, I get shy and withdrawn, so I don't. And the honest truth is that she was mostly right. I did need to quit whining, and get a therapist. ;)

I'm going through some medical stuff now, and will be going through it for the next 6 months to a year, and I wanted to document it and my life while I'm going through it, especially the artistic side of things as a way of grounding myself in healing and not fear. Unfortunately, I haven't felt safe enough to do it here. I know that it's irrational, after all, where exactly is anybody safe on teh interwebs? But I'm going to honor those feelings, rather than just not do anything, as I really need to keep my monsters and demons out of my head over the next year. And honestly, with a few exceptions, I think most of my real life friends would rather I just go away and deal with the stuff, and then come back when I'm all better because it makes them uncomfortable. Even if I am misreading that, I would rather do it that way, as I'm not particularly fond of being weak. If I could just stay in my house for the next nine months, I think I would, and be totally okay with that. But that's probably not the healthiest thing to do, so this is a way to keep a tether into the real (virtual) world.

So, on that note, I've started a new blog called www.yearofcreativehealing.blogspot.com. I like blogspot's interface, as it's much easier to update from multiple computers. I think. The ironic thing is that it's under my full name with my real pictures on it, so it certainly isn't anonymous, which will give me a reason to censor myself to sane levels.

I'll still be lurking here and on Insane Journal of course, and commenting on your journals and stories, on occasion, because that's what I do. You're welcome to read the new blog or not. I'm honestly not writing it to build a readership, but if somebody wants to follow along, hey, I'm down with it. :)

See ya around!
Travis

I reread The Dreamer

2010-12-28T21:08:38Z

In 2007, I participated in a Queer as Folk fanfic challenge, and wrote a story called "The Dreamer." Hard to believe it's been that long. I just reread it, and it's pretty damned good, even almost four years later.

http://community.livejournal.com/qaf_challenges/49761.html.

I don't know why I'm reposting it. I guess just to remind myself that I can write, and that maybe I should try my hand at another story, fan-related or original.

Travis

The Laramie Project

2010-11-19T18:20:14Z

Morning, folks,

I saw a local high school production of “The Laramie Project” last night. First of all, can I say how far the world has come that a high school can do a theatrical piece of work like this? Back in the 80's, when I was in high school, it wouldn’t have happened. While I had never seen it onstage, I had seen the film version, and remember Christina Ricci's performance with great fondness.

I have to say that I was impressed by the level of passion and ability of all involved. There were some really wonderful moments by various cast members, and I found myself moved by the show as a whole. While there are many standout moments, the actor who played Fred Phelps was uncanny in his ability to capture the essence and the mannerisms of that evil bastard. I know because I wanted to punch him in the face, as I do every time I see or hear Fred Phelps. The actor who played Matthew Shepherd really showed some acting chops, especially in the last monologue.

Another interesting thing is that I spent half the evening remembering when Matthew Shepherd was killed. I remembered listening to the news reports. I remembered hoping that he would pull through. I remembered being at the impromptu candlelight vigil in West Hollywood. I remembered how much the whole situation terrified me, and I remembered how inarticulate I was in explaining my reactions to it to people, especially the straight people in my life.

The teenagers in the audience and their reactions to the show really impressed me. Three boys, who were probably about 16, sat caddy-corner to me. The spent the last half of the show sniffling and crying. They were completely unashamed of how much they were moved. There wasn’t a trace of the machismo bullshit that so often plagues members of my own gender. I, myself, was moved, not only by the material, but by them, and wanted to put my hand on the shoulder of the boy nearest to me and give him some words of wisdom and comfort. I realized that that’s probably a bit creepy, so I didn't. Instead, I spent the majority of the time after the show watching him interact with his friends, and seeing him continuing to be moved and in tears and being up front and honest about it. Later I thought, “gee watching this kid is kinda creepy,” but I learned a lot. I realized that he already had all the wisdom and comfort he needed within himself. At 16. He's doing much better than I ever did, and my hat is off to him.

Regardless of how much the media constantly tells us that teens are either bullies or victims of bullies, my experience of them, both straight and gay and all the colors in between, tells me that there is great hope for our world. That hope is not coming from our current (or near future) crop of politicians or leaders. It’s coming from the young people who are turning out to be more rounded, more in touch with themselves, more willing to be themselves publicly, and more compassionate then ever before. I truly believe they will make the world a much better place, and I take great comfort in that.

Travis

RIP Jasmine, aka the Dowager Empress

2010-11-11T20:26:20Z

Morning, folks,

About fifteen years ago, I had just moved from West Hollywood back to my hometown in order to deal with my new, and often-times rocky journey into sobriety. My ex-roommate and best friend (who would later become my wife, then ex-wife, then a decade later, an ex-friend) wanted to know if I would be willing to take a cat that she had rescued as her other cats were beating her up. I said sure.

Jasmine came to live with me, and stayed through four moves and a decade and a half and many transitions in my life. I would guess she was between one and two years old when I met her.

I called her the Dowager Empress because she was always the oldest animal in my house, and spent a great deal of her life sitting up high looking down on the rest of us. She had a sense of royalty about her.

I wish I could say we always had a great relationship. We didn’t always. She didn’t like to be held until later on in her life, and as I was fucked up in many ways, I can’t say that I treated her as well as I could have for that entire time. Interestingly enough, my friend, Michael, taught her how to be held, and after meeting him, she got much less pissed off when I would pick her up and cuddle with her. I remember once after physically losing my temper a bit at her for something, I picked her up and hugged her tight and cried like I hadn’t cried in a long time because I so didn’t want to be that person anymore. She seemed to understand, and only meowed to be let down a little bit. While I can’t say I was perfect, our relationship changed a lot after that, and we became much closer, and I think (hope) that I treated her with more respect and love and lost my temper with her much more rarely. She spent a lot more time burrowed on top of me while watching television or sleeping at night, and I even heard her purr a time or two, something she did very rarely.

Coincidently, as I started getting through the heavy cloud of shame and fear that clung to me after getting sober, and as I started letting more and more people into my life and my house, she decided that she really liked sitting in people’s laps. She would eye every person that came over for lap potential. She eventually ended up in almost everybody’s laps, or at least did a damned good job of trying. However, she was a bit crotchety, and you would never know when she would bat at you because she didn’t like how you were petting her. And with the exception of Michael and once in a while, me, she did NOT want to be picked up by anybody. She laid down the terms and that was THAT. End of story.

Once a guest of mine really did NOT want her sitting in his lap or even getting close to him, and I told her, “Jasmine, not everybody wants you sitting in their lap!” My guest said, “Some people have allergies.” I eventually had to put her upstairs in my bedroom, because, like me, she was stubborn, and wanted what she wanted and that’s all that mattered. Interestingly enough, that guest hasn’t been back to my house. For all my faults (and there are many), people who find themselves at odds with my pets, don’t spend a lot of time in my house after that fact becomes known. Because while I pay the mortgage, the pets are the ones that really own the place. Respect and love me and my animals. Oftentimes, the respect and love of me is optional, however, respecting and loving my animals is not.

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that Jasmine seemed to be a bit weak on her haunches. I didn’t quite trust my senses though because she always recovered quickly, and she had NO problem jumping up on the couch or the bed to sleep on top of me. It was sort of like seeing it out of the corner of my eyes, and by the time I focused on it, it had passed.

I had taken her to the vet about 4 months ago, and the vet thought she looked great for her age and her blood work came back pretty unremarkable, so I pretty much figured that this was just a by-product of being 17 years old. Plus, I’m really broke right now, and taking a trip to the vet is always daunting and stressful to me. I literally start to hyperventilate when I think about it. I have the same feeling about going to my doctor, by the way, just so you know.

Over the past couple of days, she seemed more and more lethargic, and I noticed that she was drinking a lot of water, and I had made a mental note to get her to the vet when I could, which would have to be when I got paid again.

Unfortunately, yesterday when I woke up, she wouldn’t move off the couch. When I picked her up to put her by the food bowl for her breakfast, she couldn’t stand and just huddled by the water bowl, a heart breaking sight. As it was early in the morning, when I tried to call the vet, they weren’t open, and their phone system automatically transferred me to the emergency clinic. Since it was so close to them opening, I decided to wait. I kept calling back and calling back, but the emergency clinic kept answering. Finally at about 8:45, I thought to look on the web and see if I had the right number. Turns out, I didn’t, I still have no idea why. So, I dialed the correct number, and made an appointment to bring her right in. I then spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out how much money I could pull together for this; the final tally came to about $300.

The vet came in, and was very shocked at her appearance. I was shocked to find out Jasmine had lost a third of her body weight since I had brought her in before. The vet and I had a long conversation, and the vet narrowed it down to diabetes or kidney disease, both of which require a lot of treatment and a lot of money. Having treated my other cat for kidney disease, I know what’s involved and how difficult it is for both the cat and the human. Also, given her age, and her general level of crotchetyness (some might call it psychosis) the very difficult decision was made to put her to sleep.

As I’ve done with many of my animals and some friends’ animals over the years, I was there with her throughout the process. I held her on my chest while the sedative was administered, and about fifteen minutes, I petted her face and cried while the last shot was given. She passed very peacefully, barely moved through it all. I cried a lot and talked to her in my heart (I always feel like an idiot talking out loud to an animal in a vet’s office for some reason). Then after a bit of time to get myself together, I took her carrier, settled the bill with the vet (who was gracious enough to only charge me for the exam, not the euthanization) and went home to do some more crying and then get to work.

Jasmine, rest in peace, and thank you so much for sticking with me for so long, and making me a better person through your presence. Please know that you were loved, and that you will always be missed. I hope you’re playing with Branagh and Figaro and Jett and so many others somewhere near the Rainbow Bridge. I also hope to feel you sitting on my lap again when I get there.

Travis

This will break your heart a little, and then lift it

2010-10-13T16:37:23Z

Don't let evil win ...

2010-10-12T06:15:02Z

Folks,

We’ve been awash in a sea of media coverage of the suicide deaths of LGBTQ and LGBTQ-perceived youth over the past couple of weeks, and I've been awash in a sea of sadness about it.

This has spurred several video projects on Youtube, including Dan Savage’s “It Gets Better” http://www.youtube.com/user/itgetsbetterproject and also a wonderful project called Make it Better at http://makeitbetterproject.org/

I’ve been wondering how to contribute to this, and have been having a hard time figuring out what to say that hasn’t already been said brilliantly and by people far more influential than I am. So, I figured I’d just put down my thoughts here and see where it goes.

I’ve struggled with fear of being hurt by other people, as well as the feelings of being different and not worthy all of my life. I still do. Honestly. It didn't all get better once I got out of my teens. A lot got better, but not all of it.

As a teenager, I was much more on the effeminate side of things, plus I was the smart kid, and things were especially difficult for me as I tried to figure out who I was and what it meant to be attracted to guys. With slightly different circumstances, I could have been one of the statistics that are horrifying us today.

I was fortunate that when my life was being made very difficult by other kids, I had several teachers that took me in, stood up for me, and gave me a safe place to hang out during lunches. They gave me a place where I felt like I belonged. I was also very fortunate that they imbued in me a sense of learning and an appreciation for some of my gifts, intellectual and otherwise. Later in high school, I found myself befriended by kids who were stronger, more popular than I, or in the same boat as I was. I also joined some groups that gave me a sense of belonging, such as choir, the school musical productions, an inter-school group of kids that did volunteer work around Southern California by reaching out to other teens to help share tips for self-esteem, etc. It all got me through.

Here’s what I want to tell you. Yes, you, that teenager, that young adult, that older person that is remembering the pain of their younger years and is afraid to be all that they can be now. Yes you. The ones where are picked on, called hurtful names, bullied, beaten, threatened, and taking to heart the hateful things that are being said by insensitive politicians, and so-called religious leaders. Here’s what I want to tell myself too. Those people and ideas are evil. Pure and simple.

If we kill ourselves or let them make us feel like you we aren’t good enough, they win. Evil wins. I’m not exaggerating or speaking in hyperbole.

Don’t let evil win. Be strong, find help, reach out, read and educate yourself about the rich history of people who made loving, strong, lives for themselves despite being ostracized or loving people that they shouldn’t. Read about Alexander the Great. Read about the berdache in the Native American tradition. Read about the history of the LGBT in the United States. Find out how far we’ve come. Learn about Harvey Milk. Find the stories of the brave people who have made their lives about love despite the difficulties and dangers they faced. Investigate the rich history of the civil rights movement in this country. Find those of similar interests and learn to laugh, love and smile with the amazing gift that life can be. Trust me, those gifts and those people are out there. It’s going to be difficult, because life is difficult, and there is no magic wand that makes it better once you get out of high school, but at least you have more freedom to make your own way. But you can begin to make your own magic wand right now. Take action, no matter how small. Let’s make it better for ourselves and for the people that come after us.

To you people out there see somebody getting picked on or bullied or hurt. Help them. Find a way to make the world a bit brighter for somebody. Don’t let evil win. I’m begging you.

To those of you who are doing evil by hurting people. Stop it. Stop it right now. Find another way to deal with yourself. Get help for your own issues. Life is hard for you too. I get it. But I’m going to be honest here and tell you that if your friends or your god are telling you to hurt people that are different than you or that they are less than you or are abominations, find other friends and find another god. At the very least, stop listening to the force you call satan. I’m serious. If you don’t, you can kiss my ass and the asses of all the people you’re trying to hurt, because the compassion of the people you are torturing is running low, and we’re pissed. I'm pissed.

The bottom line? Stop the evil. Don’t let it win. Make the world a better place.

Travis

I'm in awe ...

2010-10-07T16:30:00Z

Hiya, folks,

Despite my sadness over the past couple of weeks from the suicides of the young people reported in the media, and my struggle over the past couple of years at the horrendous and hateful public rhetoric about people like me, I am more and more impressed with the current teen generation and I completely applaud kids like this. I wish I was (especially as a teen) as brave, smart, proactive and as loving as they are. Check it out.

Travis

Some people have NO home training ...

2010-08-31T22:26:20Z

Greetings,

On Facebook, I have "friended" or "liked" (or whatever the heck it's called these days) Barack Obama, and I got lots of nifty updates from the president.

Today, he posted something about the end of combat operations in Iraq. The third comment to the posting was just one word, which starts with an "n" and rhymes with trigger.

I can NOT believe that public discourse in this country has gotten to the point where somebody would feel comfortable calling the President of the United States that word, in a public forum. Actually, I don't know how anybody could feel comfortable calling anybody that word, but apparently, I'm in the minority on that one.

You'd think I'd quit being surprised at this stuff, but Some things take me by surprise.

Travis

The LA Weekly reviews Medea

2010-08-11T21:29:29Z

Heya, folks,

NEW REVIEW GO MEDEA

Euripides' tragedy concerning a betrayed woman and her monstrous revenge remains a timeless examination of humanity's struggle with its darker, primal urges. With the exception of a misstep at play's end, Travis Terry brilliantly directs a superb cast, relocating the story to a contemporary lunatic-asylum setting. The text reveals a few contemporary words -- kid and trash -- while preserving the antique language that's so rich with imagery and passion. Adalgiza Chermountd's Medea is first heard wailing from behind a white paper wall, part of designer Dionne Poindexter's central set piece of Medea's quarters, which rotates with ease. "Whipping her grief-tormented heart into a fury," Chermountd has a disheveled yet formidable presence, and her multihued interpretation ranges from coherent and ferocious to deranged. Her unspeakable deed is chillingly depicted. Commenting in unison, the chorus of young girl (Shaina Vorspan), mother (Lauren Wells) and grandmother (Karen Richter) double as asylum orderlies, with Shaina Vorspan giving an especially expressive performance. There are some welcome moments of levity in R. Benito Cardenas' playful interpretation of Aegeus, one of Medea's fellow lunatics. A highlight is the scene when Medea's duplicitous ex-husband, Jason (Max Horner), attempts to "correct her exaggeration" with his version of events. Aside from a tacked-on happy ending that feels utterly false, this unpretentious production holds many rewards. Knightsbridge Theatre, 1944 Riverside Drive, Silver Lake; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 6 p.m.; through August 29. (323) 667-0955. (Pauline Adamek)

http://blogs.laweekly.com/stylecouncil/stage-news/stage-raw-a-wolf-inside-the-fe/#more

Travis

Wherein Dan Savage Helps Me to Prove I am indeed an asshole ...

2010-03-16T21:47:31Z

Good afternoon, folks,

Well, it looks like I’ve just lost a friend that I’ve had since 1992. Thank you, Dan.

This morning, I got an IM from D (not Dan), telling me that Dan Savage had said that a woman should lose her kids because she was fat. I immediately ask what the context of that statement is.

Here is the article.

http://slog.thestranger.com/slog/archives/2010/03/15/they-dont-mention-if-her-kid-has-been-taken-from-her

Huge argument ensues. My point being that 1) nobody is going to take her kids away from her and 2) anybody deliberately trying to get to a weight of 1,200 pounds to get into a frickin’ record book is not only putting herself but possibly her child in danger. Her point being that nobody should make the point that somebody should take somebody’s children away just because she’s fat.

Honesty forces me to admit that the very idea of somebody deliberately becoming 1200 pounds, spending $3,000 on food a MONTH, and paying for it by running a website where people pay to watch her eat fast food is disgusting. I’m sorry, it just is to me. I’ve struggled with my weight and watched so many friends of mine struggle with their weight, and the attendant depression and self-hatred for too many years to think that can be emotionally healthy. Let's put aside the physical health issues.

I don’t think I have a problem with fat people. I’ve been fat, and, in many circles, especially in the gay world, I AM STILL fat, and will always be fat. That’s fine. I’ve had many, many friends that are fat, and are happy to be that way, and I love and adore them, and, beyond all that, I ardently support their right to be fat and happy, and would be the first one to take somebody to task for saying an unkind word about them, then and now.

So, after hours of stewing, I thought and thought, and came to the conclusion that this woman has the right to be 1,200 lbs., even though at that weight, she won’t be able to function well, if at all, and that I think her child will be adversely affected by it, and it could be dangerous for both of them.

But I’m still pissed off. Because, yet again, I’m drawn into an argument that I can’t win, have no business making, and is none of my frickin’ business. I don’t LIKE looking like an asshole. I don’t LIKE having my prejudices shoved down my goddamned throat, preferring to deal with them in my own pace and in my own time, and without the seemingly gleeful enjoyment of the person pushing the fucking buttons, friend or not.

So, I sent her an IM, saying, “Yes, you’re right, Dan Savage shouldn’t have said that her children should be taken away from her,” and then I signed off because I didn’t want to continue the conversation. Two seconds later my telephone at work rings, and she is wondering what’s wrong. I tell her that I am indeed pissed off, as I got forced into making an argument I didn’t want to have to make. She interrupted me and said, “I think we’re going to have to end this friendship ...” So, I immediately said, “fine, goodbye” and hung up the telephone.

Which is EXACTLY why I fucking HATE talking about politics and religion and social hot topics like this. Because it immediately becomes personal, and my head turns spins around, and I forget that my job in all of this is to listen, smile, nod, and say, “of course, you’re right.” And then yet another friend, acquaintance or family member has made their way out the revolving doors that represent the relationships in my life, and I’m left struggling with my own fucking emotional fallout.

All I can say is, “thank you, Dan Savage” and goodbye to D. May you find your life blessed and happy.

Travis

Where Did That Little Dog Go?

2010-02-22T17:01:11Z

Hiya, folks,

Some of you might remember that I played Charlie Brown in a production of Snoopy, the Musical! last summer.

Here's a clip of the cast doing the "Easter Beagle" vignette, which goes into my solo, "Where Did That Little Dog Go?"

Enjoy!

Travis

My very own Cabaret! February 2!

2010-01-13T04:37:31Z

Hiya, gentle readers,

I'm so proud to announce that on February 2, 2010, I will be performing my very own cabaret, called "Headin' to the Chapel, the Middle of the Journey!" in Hollywood.

It's going to be me, a piano played by a wonderfully talented woman by the name of Debbie Lawrence, and the other singers who are joining me onstage: Leslie Duke, Jake Wesley Stewart and Cloie Taylor. I'm so honored to have such talented and amazing friends with me onstage.

It will be the celebration of my 42nd birthday and a bit of a musical journey, loosely based on me and my life as a gay man. Not to mention some of my favorite music to sing.

Here's the info:

Date: February 2, 2010

Time: 7:00 doors open for dinner and drinks. 8:00 is when the show starts. Get there early to get a good seat and a bite to eat.

Place: The M Bar and Restaurant

Address: 1253 Vine Street, Los Angeles, CA 90038 (on the corner of Vine and Fountain in Hollywood).

Reservations: (323) 856-0036 (please remember to make reservations so the restaurant knows how many are coming).

Cost: $10 cover charge, and a $10 food minimum (not a drink minimum).

I'd love to see you all there. :)

Travis

Bah humbug.

2009-12-17T18:29:52Z

Morning, gentle readers,

I’m just not in the Christmas spirit this year.

A Christmas Carol with Jim Carrey, directed by Robert Zemeckis almost put me in the mood, but didn’t quite do it. It’s a wonderful movie, by the way, with beautiful animation, stunning acting, and is a really wonderful adaptation of the classic Christmas story.

I’ve been trying to figure out what’s keeping me from it. Although I don’t identify as Christian, and haven’t for many years; the celebrations at this time of year, are much older than Christianity, and are not just limited to that faith. Normally, I enjoy a holiday camaraderie with my fellow man, and enjoy the hope that along with the rebirth of the sun’s cycle around the earth, this will be the year when we will all learn how to treat our fellows a bit better, and become a kinder, gentler and more giving people.

This year, I haven’t been able to access any of that. The most accurate description of what’s in my heart seems to be when I say “my favorite part of Christmas is when it’s over.”

The season’s hope has been buried under the morass of fear and anger lodged in my heart. It’s about to become punishable by death to be gay in Uganda, and a good portion of people who call themselves religious people, even here in this country, shrug their shoulders, point at Leviticus as justification, and go on about their day. In state after state, people are voting to bar gay folks from getting legally married to a partner of their choice to protect their legal and familial rights. Because heaven forbid, two people of the same gender who love each other, and want to protect each other from the world should get a bit of help from society. It’s bad enough that supposedly devout, pious religious leaders can stand in their pulpits and call us the most vile of names in the name of God, but continually stripping away and denying of human rights seems to be the cause du jour.

Somebody who is virulently anti-gay, described homosexuality as “one man violently cramming his penis into another man’s lower intestine and calling it ‘love.’” See http://americansfortruth.com/news/liberty-counsel-may-lead-pullout-of-cpac-if-homosexual-group-goproud-remains-as-co-sponsor.html. Not to mention the liberal use of standard fare like “sinful” “evil” “aberrant,” etc. Upon hearing this, I thought to myself, “Really? That’s all that love is about in their world? The physical act of fucking? That’s it? And it’s violent?” Maybe I'm not the only one who needs therapy.

More and more, the religion of the Christ seems to be more about hatred towards anybody that’s even a bit different, and the guilt-free beating of other people (physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually) than anything else. Scarily enough, the more they hate and try to hurt me and those like me, the more I feel backed into a corner, trapped by an angry mob, and the more I contemplate giving back in kind. The more I hate. The more I rail against divinity, in any form. I find myself running just as fast as I can from any type of religious teachings these days. My gut reaction when somebody says anything even remotely religious is “fuck you and the god you rode in on.”

I don’t want to be that guy. The red eyed, angry, bitchy, temperamental and increasingly hateful man who takes offense at everything. It’s not good for my soul. I’m trying to learn how to love better, not hate more. I’m trying to be more accepting for the foibles and the glorious humanity of those around me, and to patiently work to make the world a better place.

“Trying” is the operative phrase in the above paragraph. My confession to you today is that I’m not doing particularly well at any of those things right now.

For those of you who say that the Ugandan legislation is in Africa, and that it could never happen here in the United States, I’ll remind you that the German folks said the same thing in the earlier part of the last century.

I wonder why I’m frightened.

Having said all of that, I'm trying to find a LGBT organization to do some volunteer work for on Christmas Day. Might as well turn my fear to something positive.

Travis

Citibank sucks

2009-11-10T02:23:02Z

Good evening, folks,

I just got home and checked the mail and found out that Citibank is raising the interest rate on my credit card (which I have NEVER been late on, and as a matter of fact have a balance about half of my limit) from a fixed rate of 9.99% to an APR of 29.99%. That's an increase of 20%. TWENTY PERCENT. Their explanation is that to continue to prove customers with access to credit, they have to adjust their pricing. 20% is, in my opinion, usurious charges. I closed my account to lock in the current rate that I have so I can pay it off. Oh, get this, they have a program that let's me get a credit for 10% of that interest if I make my minimum payment on time. Even taking into account that lovely little program, it's still a raise of TEN PERCENT.

I was told to have a happy holiday season.

Citibank can kiss my ass this holiday season.

Travis

Maine ...

2009-11-04T20:55:14Z

Hiya, folks,

Well, Maine voters decided that gays shouldn't get civilly-married yesterday.

I don't know what horrifies me more ... that we lost another state, or that I basically just shrugged, and figured that's the way it's going to be all over the U.S. so I might as well get used to it.

Joemygod.blogspot.com linked to some craiglist discussions in Maine the day before the election, and I was a little floored at the vitriol spewed forth by the yes on Question 1 people. Apparently, all gays are "radical homosexual activists" and "selfish" and want everything handed to us. And that's the nice stuff. The not nice stuff isn't fit to re-print.

I was just reminded how much we are hated. And that makes me sad and pessimistic.

Travis

Travis

Huh?

2009-11-02T21:14:38Z

Afternoon, folks,

I called my health insurance company this morning to see if I could expedite the processing of a claim from my doctor because the insurance company has a hard time understanding that just because I upgraded my plan, that doesn't mean I wasn't insured by them last year; therefore, the "are you sure this wasn't a pre-existing condition" question is invalid.

Anywhosy. Every time I call them, they ask me about 10 questions. What's your name, your birthday, your address, are you insured with another company, etc.

This time they asked me if I wanted to do a language preference survey, which would apparently only take 4-5 seconds. Sure, why not. After all, I don't want to have to try to translate their already incromprehensible menu options from Swedish to English if they don't get my preference correct. The first question was, "what language do you prefer." "English," I replied helpfully. The second question was "what ethnicity are you?" "American." "I'm sorry, sir, that's not an option. White, caucasion, etc." I then told him, rather tartly, "I'm not answering that question because it really is none of you or your company's business." He said that he'd make a note of it on their files so they didn't ask me again.

My question is what the hell would they need to ask that question for? Is my answer going to change my coverage, or how they treat my claims or how they talk to me on the phone?

What do you all think? Was I out of line in refusing to answer?

Travis

In Memoriam

2009-09-20T00:24:18Z

Good afternoon, gentle readers,

As most of you know, Xie's mom, Kathleen, passed away. I find myself very sad about it. For Xie, because I know how much she loved her mother and how much she will miss her. But I'm also sad for myself.

I've known Xie's mom for as long as I've known Xie. 12 years now? Somewhere around there. Almost every time I'd see Xie, I'd see Kathleen. She was a lovely lady with a sparkle in her eye and a quick laugh that I've always associated with the Irish. She always had a smile and a great big hug for me. She's one of those people who seems to listen when in a conversation, and to care about what one says. She loved her dogs as much as Xie did, and I was privileged to be able to go on many walks with her and the dogs on the occasions I got to visit.

I must admit that I was always a bit jealous of the caring relationship Xie and Kathleen had. Now, I'm no fool, and I know they had their squabbles and differences on occasion. But they always seemed to be there for each other, and able to count on each other. A real blessing.

I once remarked to Xie that Kathleen was the only straight person I'd consider taking on a gay cruise because I was absolutely sure we'd have a BLAST!!

After hearing that she was sick and very close to the end, I had a dream, as I often do, given the medications I have to take. I woke in tears, and thinking that in my heart of hearts, I thought of her as "San Franciscan Royalty." Now, that didn't make sense at the time, but as I thought about it, it does. She and her family are native San Franciscans, and although I don't live in that end of the state, I always sort of look up to them as my link to San Francisco's (and therefor California's) old-guard. As far as the royalty part goes, one only needed to have spoken with Kathleen about her city to get how much a part of it she was, and how much a part of her it was.

Most of all, her passing, while sad, has given me yet another occasion to remember how much I truly love her daughter, and how grateful I am that she is my friend. One of my best friends. A special woman and friend that I look up to and honor every day. I hope she knows that.

Rest in Peace, Kathleen, you will be missed more than you know, and thank you for being a part of my life.

Travis

Matters of the Heart

2009-09-03T22:46:01Z

Afternoon, gentle readers,

I had an echocardiogram of and a stress test on my heart done this morning.

UCLA is an amazing medical facility and their heart center seemed especially impressive to my untrained eye. It was quite interesting, if not a bit daunting, to see all these folks who were there either pre- or post- heart transplant. One older gentleman and his wife were talking to another couple in the lobby about their experience with the husband’s heart transplant of six years ago. They were bubbly, happy and seemed to me to be very much happy, go-lucky, retired folks. You never would have known that 6 years ago, they literally took his diseased heart out and put in a new one. Medical technology is quite amazing.

There were some folks there that seemed VERY sick, and honestly, I felt a little guilty for complaining about my health at the moment. I mean, after all, I can walk and run and I don’t have to use a wheelchair, or carry an oxygen tank in my hands whenever I move, and many of these folks obviously did not have those luxuries.

The technician who did the echocardiogram was very friendly, as was the nurse who ran the stress test. I felt pretty comfortable, reflected by a blood pressure of 134/74, which is the closest to normal I’ve ever tested in the past three or four years. When I went to my regular doctor last week, it was 140/110, despite being on medication to keep it lower. That’s NOT good. I have NO idea why it wasn’t elevated today, but even after running on a treadmill today, it still wasn’t elevated past normal. Ahhh, the sweet mysteries of life.

For those of you that don’t know, an echocardiogram is an ultrasound of the heart, which is basically a picture/video of the working heart. At first, I was a little repulsed to see my heart up there on the screen. I mean, it’s a little strange looking, and it’s full of blood and well, it’s all the way INSIDE me. It was kinda scary, to be honest with you. But after the initial “ewww” moment, it was very interesting to watch it do its thing. The angle was from the side, so the structure, along with the working valves, reminded me of an abstract ballerina doing some Martha Graham choreography. Or a football fan doing the wave at a game. I couldn’t decide.

The stress test was basically me with a lot of electrodes, and I felt like were were re-enacting the opening scene of the “Six Million Dollar Man” for those of you old enough to know that show. I went for about 10 minutes, then my legs felt like they were going to fall off, and I was breathing pretty hard. They rushed me to the gurney two feet away to get a picture while my heart rate was up. My heart was still doing its thing. I have no idea if it was doing it well or not, but there it was, dancing right along. The thought that occurred to me is that my heart is as much of a camera whore as I am.

I have to admit that I’m a little afraid of what the bill is going to look like when it comes in. This little round with the doctor had not only blood tests, but today’s two tests as well as two doctor visits. Might end up putting some of the bill on credit, which I am loathe to do, but I might not have any choice in the matter.

I’m going to try to upgrade my current insurance benefits at work, so I’m not spending $500 every time I say hello to a doctor. It’s going to cost me money every month, which I haven’t had to pay before, thanks to my employer, but it will hopefully be less in the long-run.

The health care debate is raging all around us, and I’ve been trying to figure out what my basic truths are about it.

I read an article in the New Yorker, called “How Healthcare Killed My Father,” and it basically posited a new way to deal with Health Insurance. He insisted that “catastrophic” should be defined as over $50,000. I don’t know about the lot of you, but anything over $5,000 to $10,000 in hospital bills could bring my whole world following down around my ears and leave me buried for the rest of my life, and I think I’m farther up there on the scale than a lot of folks. And let’s not talk about what would happen if I lost my job due to being ill. Not only do I have more bills than ever, but I have no way of making money to pay those bills.

He also suggested that employers stop being made to pay for health insurance, and that employees put money away every month for it. His economic belief is if employers are not required to pay for health insurance, then it would be reflected in higher wages for the rest of us and we could afford to put that money away. I’m not so sure about that, myself. My experience with employers is that they will pay as little as possible, if pinched, and that in a down market, they will pay less. Which leaves the rest of us high and dry if we get sick when there is a down market.

He also said that the government should take care of those who can’t pay their monthly allotment. I can see the libertarians and the republicans having apoplexy at just the very thought. To his credit, he did recognize that changes of this nature would take at least a generation to implement. “What do we do in the meantime?” is my question, of course.

I will also say that reading some of the economic theories on this whole subject makes my eyes glaze over and immediate snoring sounds to emanate from my head area. Not because it’s particularly boring, but more because this is not my area of expertise and some of it sounds like wild fantastical conjecture based on theories that I have no education in, so can’t give an informed opinion on. If any of you know this article and believe that I’ve got it wrong, let me know, and tell me what your impression is ... gently, of course.

Here’s what I believe. As a society, we need to be able to help each other out, on a large scale and a small scale. I believe that making health care dependent on whether each individual can afford to pay for it is fundamentally wrong, short-sighted, and, to be frank, immoral. I think we need some lessons in compassion. Yes, there will be some people who abuse a system based on compassion, and sharing, but nothing is perfect, and I would rather walk the high-road and be taken advantage of a little bit, than be afraid to ever reach my hand out to folks that might genuinely need it. Yes, this can also be taken to an extreme, but I don’t think we’re even close to being there.

Another issue raised by this gentleman, and several other is that doctor should be paid for results rather than the procedure. While it does seem that there might be abuses of a system that rewards doctors for more procedures, I also have quite a bit of trepidation about a system that requires a doctor to get results. Who defines results? After all, people are mortal and sometimes, despite a conscientious doctor’s best efforts people die, or deal with things that can’t be cured. If you’re rewarding doctors for “results,” is it not conceivable that a doctor might not give enough care to somebody that he or she knows can’t be ultimately helped or cured? Food for thought.

On the practical side of things, once I get the bill for this current go-round of lab tests, my heart will probably stop beating all on its own, so the whole issue will be moot ... at least for me.

Peace, y’all.

Travis

Fall of Paul

2009-08-26T15:49:27Z

Anybody recognize the judge? ;)

Travis

Did he just call me old?

2009-08-21T13:45:38Z

Morning, gentle readers,

Oh no, he didn't!!

From the review of Snoopy, the Musical by Backstage West.

"Travis Terry seems a bit long in the tooth to be playing Charlie Brown, but after the initial impression, he nimbly captures the key elements of the fatalistic but resilient Charlie."

Travis

Monday ...

2009-07-27T19:33:50Z

Morning, gentle readers,

I haven't journalled in a long time, mostly because I've been extremely busy, but also because I had gotten to the place where I'm a bit afraid of? wary of? uneasy with? sharing the stuff inside of me or letting it out of my head to other people. I'm not sure why though.

This is probably fatigue talking, but I'm a bit disturbed. It's Monday morning, and I feel like my nervous system is extremely touchy. Sounds annoy me. The clicking of my co-worker's sandals makes me insane. Her shoes have no backs, so it's click, click, click, click, every time she gets up from her desk. Also, I seem to be making more errors than usual. The last month's billing statements at work have many more errors than I'm used to making. Simple, stupid things. Things that show I'm not paying attention to detail as I should. I seem to get more and more annoyed with people standing too close to me, especially my bosses.

It also seems like it's harder for people to understand what I'm saying. This has been going on for a while. The problem is I think the words are all coming out in the correct order and are perfectly sensible, but I get a lot of "what?" or "huh?" or questions being asked about what I just said. I'm constantly thinking, "didn't I just say that?" after somebody asks for clarification. And it's beginning to scare me. I worry that my mind is going, and my ability to speak is lessening. I'm also finding that retaining stuff is more difficult. During the rehearsals for Snoopy, I constantly had to revisit material that had already been covered because I couldn't remember all the details. Now, granted, this had more to do with choreography and harmonies, both of which are not as ingrained in me as text memorization is, but it's still distressing. We've had two shows already, and I've made errors in singing and dancing that shouldn't have been made. Thank goodness for a talented ensemble that has managed to save my ass when necessary. The audience doesn't seem to notice, or has at least been kind enough not to mention it, but it sort of sticks in my craw.

Now, having said all that, I am doing my best these days to not go down the dark pathways in my brain. I think for a long time I was so intent on feeling what I was feeling honestly that if ever a dark or punishing thought or feeling came to me, I'd wallow in it for a while. Recently, I realized that I don't have to follow those thoughts or impulses. I can just not go to the "you really are a horrible person" pathway. Although there is part of me that worries that this is just avoidance, it seems to be working to keep me from the worst of the downward spirals.

On a different subject, I had an e-mail exchange with my mother this weekend. She sent me one of those right-wing propaganda-ish chain e-mails, which I HATE getting and which I've asked her not to send to me. When I received it, rather than just deleting, I wrote back "what a load of crap." She responded with, "I know we have our differences of opinions, but I hope you respect mine." I responded with, "I do respect your opinion, but that wasn't your opinion, that was somebody else's opinion. If you want to talk about politics, great, let's talk about politics, you and me, with our own words and ideas without the chain e-mails."

The thing I hate about talking about politics is that nobody ever changes anybody's minds. Nobody of opposite viewpoints, actually seems to listen to the other's viewpoint and nobody changes. The continual us vs. them mentality seems to perpetuate and widen the divide between people. For instance, I believe that I should absolutely have the right to marry a member of my own gender. Evangelical christians believe that being gay is a sin and that if I'm allowed to marry, their religious freedoms are being trampled on. How do we get past that? All that difference of opinion (and what an understatment) does is drive the wedge between us deeper and deeper until I don't want to even talk to anybody who identifies more than in just a passing way with being christian, and christians can barely talk to me without either the full-blown presence of their disgust or pity towards me.

It's a conundrum, and I get upset about the whole thing, which is why I try not to talk about politics and religion at all, especially with family or people that have opposing viewpoints. It's not worth not being able to sleep every night. Other friends of mine can seem to talk, yell, scream, argue and then sleep just fine. I just tend to obsess over it, and I hate obsessing over things.

****

Well, stepped away for a bit to get some actual work *gasp* done, and had a snapple. Feeling a bit more awake and less touchy. :)

One more thing before I sign off. I've been easily startled lately. Like I'm afraid somebody is going to come after me physically, or like somebody is going to take something away from me, and I have NO idea what the hell it is about.

I'm sure more will be revealed in time. :)

One thing that my mother said to me in our flurry of e-mails to each other this weekend that I've been mulling over was her staunch declaration that she earnestly PRAYS for our soldiers and our country, and I couldn't help but wonder that maybe the world situation will start to change when stalwart, faithful people of faith such as my mother start praying for the world, rather than just their country. Because when it is always us vs. them, the same old patterns get repeated over and over and over and over again.

It's just a thought.

Smooches,
Travis

Help Lt. Dan Choi regain his job.

2009-07-01T21:50:54Z

Hiya, folks,

In case you don't know, a man by the name of Lt. Dan Choi was just recently fired from his position as a linguist with the Army for being gay. He's fighting it, and could use your help.

Please go to this website and sign their online petition so he can deliver all of our signatures to Speaker Pelosi.

http://www.couragecampaign.org/page/s/RepealDADT

With dignity and love,

Travis

#iranelection

2009-06-17T21:02:36Z

Check out this photo montage.

Sobering and moving.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/fhashemi/sets/72157619758530748/show/

Travis

Update ... good stuff!!

2009-06-16T18:18:48Z

Hiya, gentle readers,

It's been a while since I've posted, and I've got some great stuff. :)

1. I am officially a homeowner. Escrow closed on "la casa de Travis and his cats" last Friday. My hands shook and I could barely talk in cohesive sentences while signing loan documents, but it's all done. I have the keys and everything. :)

2. The cats are safely esconced in the new place, although Phred tried to kill me during the move, and he almost is too heavy to carry. I really have to figure out how to get him to lose some weight without the other two cats getting frighteningly thin.

2. Last night, I did the final walk-through with the landlord of my old place. After 17 years between my ex-wife and I, the place is finally back in the hands of the landlord. I've spent at least 12 of those years worrying about how that particular meeting would go because let's face it, the house isn't in the best of shape, even though I did make many repairs myself over the years. I've carried a lot of shame and guilt over that, so transferred much of that onto this final walk-through. As life would have it, the meeting was uneventful and the landlord was very nice and friendly and didn't complain about anything. When I left I thought, "that was anticlimactic AND a waste of 12 years of worry."

3. I had a great audition for the part of Charlie Brown in Snoopy the Musical. It's my first singing audition in probably a decade, and I did really, really well.

4. P.S. -- I found out Saturday that I'll be playing Charlie Brown in said musical. It's the first time I've been in a musical theater show and have my own song since I was in high school. Wahoo!!! I rock!!!

5. I sang at my friend Louahn's piano party for her piano and vocal students on Sunday. I sang "What More Can I Say" from Falsettos. I got a tad bit scared when I saw how many children were there, and more specifically their parents, some of which I was told were very conservative. The song is a gay song, and I was going to talk a bit about gay pride which was coincidently the same day here in Los Angeles. Seeing all the kids (and their parents) though, I changed my mind and just basically sang the song, and let it speak for itself. I don't know why. Perhaps it would have been more politically correct and helpful to chat about it a bit. I guess inate fear of conflict stepped in. The next day, Louahn said that the most straight laced and serious of her kids said that my song was his favorite, and that he wants to learn how to play it on the piano. She wonders if he is questioning his sexuality. I felt really good when I heard that. If he is, maybe I helped to let him know he's not alone.

Anywhosy, I've got a pile of filing on my desk about a foot high. Gotta get back to it.

Take care.

Travis