SAME LOVE

Same Love, Macklemore featuring Mary Lambert

When I was in the 3rd grade
I thought that I was gay
Cause I could draw, my uncle was
And I kept my room straight
I told my mom, tears rushing down my face
She’s like, “Ben you’ve loved girls since before pre-K”
Trippin’, yeah, I guess she had a point, didn’t she
A bunch of stereotypes all in my head
I remember doing the math like
“Yeah, I’m good a little league”
A pre-conceived idea of what it all meant
For those who like the same sex had the characteristics
The right-wing conservatives think its a decision
And you can be cured with some treatment and religion
Man-made, rewiring of a pre-disposition
Playing God
Ahh nah, here we go
America the brave
Still fears, what, we don’t know
And God loves all His children
Is somehow forgotten
But we paraphrase a book written
35 hundred years ago
I don’t know

And I can’t change
Even if I tried
Even if I wanted to
And I can’t change
Even if I tried
Even if I wanted to
My love, my love, my love
She keeps me warm

If I was gay
I would think hip-hop hates me
Have you read the YouTube comments lately
“Man that’s gay”
Gets dropped on the daily
We’ve become so numb to what we’re sayin’
Our culture founded from oppression
Yeah, we don’t have acceptance for ’em
Call each other faggots
Behind the keys of a message board
A word routed in hate
Yet our genre still ignores it
Gay is synonymous with the lesser
It’s the same hate that’s caused wars from religion
Gender and skin color
Complexion of your pigment
The same fight that lead people to walk-outs and sit-ins
It’s human rights for everybody
There is no difference
Live on! And be yourself!
When I was in church
They taught me something else
If you preach hate at the service
Those words aren’t anointed
And that Holy Water
That you soak in
Is then poisoned
When everyone else
Is more comfortable
Remaining voiceless
Rather than fighting for humans
That have had their rights stolen
I might not be the same
But that’s not important
No freedom ’til we’re equal
Damn right I support it
I don’t know

And I can’t change
Even if I tried
Even if I wanted to
And I can’t change
Even if I tried
Even if I wanted to
My love, my love, my love
She keeps me warm

We press play
Don’t press pause
Progress, march on!
With a veil over our eyes
We turn our back on the cause
‘Till the day
That my uncles can be united by law
Kids are walkin’ around the hallway
Plagued by pain in their heart
A world so hateful
Someone would rather die
Than be who they are
And a certificate on paper
Isn’t gonna solve it all
But it’s a damn good place to start
No law’s gonna change us
We have to change us
Whatever god you believe in
We come from the same one
Strip away the fear
Underneath it’s all the same love
About time that we raised up

And I can’t change
Even if I tried
Even if I wanted to
And I can’t change
Even if I tried
Even if I wanted to
My love, my love, my love
She keeps me warm

Love is patient, love is kind
Love is patient (not cryin’ on Sundays)
Love is kind (not crying on Sundays)

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How to Plan a Birthday Gift

Two months prior, you start making mental notes of things your boyfriend likes. You start paying attention to small comments made here and there of things that amuses him. You scour the internet for concerts and shows.

You purchase tickets for a concert of a band he might enjoy a week prior his birthday. He knows one song from the band, but you’re sure he’ll enjoy the concert anyway. You click “Buy” without regard to the price. You want the best seats.

All men are boys – so you shop for a toy. You make sure it’s something he likes. He’s mentioned it months ago – this is a good buy. You ask his brother and sister for their opinion.

You buy novelty shirts. Something funny, smart and geeky. Buy it in blue because blue looks good on him.

You make reservations in a steakhouse. Fuck diets, it’s his birthday. You go through the menu and see if there’s anything he’d like. You call the restaurant and mention you’re having dinner for your boyfriend’s birthday before going to a Broadway musical.

You buy tickets for a show. You haven’t seen a musical in a long time. He’s going to love it.

You put all the gifts in a corner in your room so he’ll see the surprise you prepared for him when he comes over and stay for the night.

It’s going to be perfect.

*****

The real gift is you are willing to cancel everything because your boyfriend’s sister decided to throw a family-only party that you’re not invited to.

The real gift is calling the restaurant to cancel your reservation.

The real gift is calling your best friend to accompany you to a Broadway musical because you don’t want to waste the rather expensive tickets you got, and you don’t want to go alone.

The real gift is not losing your shit because in a relationship, one has to be the strong one that the other can hold on to.

Chronicles of an Alone Non-Single Guy – Part Two

Tuesday night, I checked out the movie The Right to Love: An American Family. It’s basically about a gay couple and their two kids, and what they went through during the big hoo-haa of Proposition 8. It was a good documentary of a family doing “normal” stuff. I think it was the point, families with gay parents don’t really ask for anything special – just be treated the same as everyone else. The Prop 8 issue on the movie kinda dated it, which makes the movie feel “old”. I worry it dampened its relevance, because it is still a timely issue. Unless marriage is made equal on the federal level, I think the movie would remain important.
After the movie, I joined a bunch of HRC volunteers for drinks. I should consider doing volunteer work. But I think of myself too much to do volunteer work. That;s why I just give money. As Karen Walker would say as she writes a check, “Guilt begone!”
Thursday night was great! I enjoy comedy, I love the East Village, and I enjoy dive bars – so when I heard about a comedy show in a dive bar in the East Village, I knew I had to show up.

I heard about it through Dave. I’ve been listening to his podcast with Ben Harvey. They have a radio show now at Sirius, but I don’t have Sirius so I download the iTunes feed.
I’ve never seen him do stand-up so I went. A pleasant surprise was Craig Baldo! We’ve met once before, we have a common friend who happens to be a former professor from Colorado.
I probably had too much that Thursday night – by the time I got home, I felt feverish. By the morning, I could hardly breathe because my throat felt closing up. My tonsils were inflamed, and it hurt so bad. I did something I haven’t done in a long time – called sick and took the day off. I stayed in bed and watched America’s Top Model reruns. I also Googled tonsillectomy. Videos are available in Youtube. I saw images of removed tonsils, they look like gonads. It was disgusting and fascinating.
I was up as early as six this morning. Just probably excited – Andy is coming home today 🙂 I’ll pick him up later from Jersey. In the mean time, since I still can’t eat, decided to cook soup.

***
Cutting through the darkest night are my two headlights
Try to keep it clear, but I’m losing it here
To the twilight
There’s a dead end to my left
There’s a burning bush to my right
You aren’t in sight

I Could Use a Hug

My dad has a theory that anyone who grew up in the Philippines is manic-depressive. He should know as he has at least three strong evidences: my mother, his wife, and me.
I’m going through another lull. It’s possible that the bad weather has something to do with it, or maybe because my day started with the horrible news in Aurora, CO. Two strong cases, but what really bums me out is two friends’ recent engagements to their boyfriends. I am extremely happy for them of course. One I found out through Twitter, during a recent trip to Europe. I imagine it was in Paris. Possibly London. The other, through Facebook. They recently bought a house together.
I’m not in a rush to get married. Frankly, I’m terrified of the thought, but I know eventually, it’s something I’d like to do. Have a house somewhere close in the city, have kids, a dog.
But in as much as I am not in a rush, I’m in a rut. I love my boyfriend, I wouldn’t stay with him for four and a half years now if I didn’t. And I’m sure he loves me too. We have so much fun when we’re together – he’s silly, and I’m hilarious. We never run out of things to talk about, and isn’t that what really matters if you’re looking for something long term? I’m really glad I have him. But we’re just standing still. And it’s hard to move forward when both of you are not ready.

Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.

Psychoanalyse This

Over lunch yesterday, my coworkers and I were talking about Disney movies and all I could think of is how these Disneyfied movies actually had very gruesome origin stories. Somebody also mentioned the Saw movies and the M. Night Shyamalan movie The Devil, and I think the discussion stuck with me in the back of my head because I had a scary dream last night.

Below is the nightmare that woke me at three in the morning. It started like a rom-com, but ended up like a gore movie. Please skip if squeamish.

I was on the A train heading to Brooklyn. Across from me was Dave. He was meeting his mom. Apparently, there is a mom-son picnic going on in DUMBO. The picnic is for Jewish mothers with single gay sons hoping they can match them and send them off towards marriage or at least a long-term relationship. Why Dave has a David Bowie lightning make-up on his left eye, I do not understand nor did I ask for an explanation.
It was a sunny day in DUMBO, Dave and i parted ways and he headed to the crowd of moms and sons – matching each other like a human-Grindr. I walked pass by the park to what looks like a forest. Then, “the camera” shifted from my point of view, panning out to a view of a rather wide-range of trees (clearly, we are not in New York anymore) then around what I was thought was me. It was just a generic Hollywood white guy talking to Dave in the train and I was just seeing his point of view.
Our main guy continued walking through the trees to a cabin. There were a bunch of wild-haired women wearing hospital gowns. They looked gnarly. And they looked at our main guy like he was food, and they were all ravenous. Main guy started running as a gaggle of crazy old women started running after him. He can clearly see a clinic ahead – surely a doctor, or a nurse – anyone who seems authoritarian who can help would be in it. As he walked in the door, several hands from behind him got a hold of him.
Our main guy woke up. He was wearing a hospital gown himself. A nurse looms on top of him. She said he was badly hurt by the old ladies. Main guy felt a pain on his groin. The nurse started explaining that they had to take out his right testicle. He suddenly got up from the hospital bed. And across from him, he can see a doctor, nailing down his testicle against a wooden table, maniacally laughing.

Any psychologists out there who can help me figure out what is wrong with me based on that dream?