So I guess I was looking for the most efficient way to journal this epiphany I am having.. and deviant seems like it. So tonight... I was bumming.. mostly because boys are emotional wankers who can't figure out if they are sad or happy. Just to let those boys know.. I already deal with that enough in my blood-relatives... so if you try to kill yourself.. I will stop talking to you.. you are just hurting me.

So I went for a long drive.. and listened to Bright Eyes the whole time pretty much (some Dear Hunter and Iron and Wine), and just drove. No thinking... because thinking would put me in a bad position.. it was like behind-the-wheel yoga.

I realize that I need to get my priorities in order. I called Ciara and asked her what she was doing, her apartment was empty when I walked in the door... almost bare. She is my synonym. I can talk to her about anything without judgment or reprimand, because somehow we are both empathetic to our past experiences. Ciara is the tough New-Yorker who is really from New Jersey. Been there done that and has had a steady support her entire life.. along with good fortune and crazy nights. If you know me.. you know I'm abotu the same.. only I'm a little bit more innocent and from the Midwest... (Weird that I'm the innocent one). So we got to talking.

I talked about my summer, my growth, my fouls, family, friends, loneliness, and most importantly... my puppy Otto. I realize now that I have been a grown up for more than half of my life.. and for the past few years of immaturity and self-deprication... I relived a distraught youth that I would have originally head.

Ciara seemed tired so I told her I was going to drive home... knowing full well I was okay to drive after two glasses of wine. On my way home.. I almost had a dream. All I could really think about was my Uncle Steve. My entire family considered him an outcast.. and showed him the door; accept my aunt's family and my family. He and his partner would join us on camping trips, and in 1995 at the age of 5 I knew full well that being gay was just life for some people. Some of my family didn't see it that way... but I guess if you compare every gay man to the media-illusion of Freddie Mercury then your bound to be biased.. although Freddie wasn't as CRAZY as his portrayal.

What my family never realized is that the day my uncle died, I grew up. The day my uncle died I saw my dad cry for the first time. I realized my dad would love me no matter what mistakes I made, because if he could love my uncle that everyone despised then he would always love his own daughter. My mom went off the deep end after that.. and from 5 until 8.. I was in limbo of being an adult. The day my uncle left.. was the day I took his place. I'm currently the "deviant" if you will. but maybe someday... someone in my family will see that my inability to live up to their standards is only met with somber disposition.

Dear family, why are my sisters my parents, and my parents my children?
Why do you hate the one man who symbolizes my youth?
How could you ignore AIDS?
Do you think that just because I'm straight I can be better than him?

Because it ended up that way, because he was different, because it was a scewed perception, no.

RIP Uncle Steve, I can't wait to go camping when I see you again.