Who Cares About the Young Folks?
I decided to start attending the Art Institute for two reasons: One, they offered EXACTLY what I wanted to get a degree in. Two, they said after I turned 18, they would be able to offer me loans and grants that would, not only pay for school, but would also help with living expenses as well as supply costs. To say the least, I’ve been anticipating my birthday because I could FINALLY stop working 70 hour weeks at two different jobs. I could relax a little, and focus 110% on school.
School is very important to me, especially if I’m paying for it. Because I moved out when I was 15 I spent two years of high school trying to balance jobs and school, and it ultimately drove me to dropping out, because of how exhausting it is. I swore to myself that when I went to college, it would be different. I would finally be able to do be a “normal” student, who had the opportunity to dedicate himself to his degree.
My financial aid officer let me know today, that that wasn’t going to happen.
A week after applying for a number of loans, grant, and scholarships, the department head of the financial aid office sat me down, and we had a little discussion. Not only had I been denied ALL loans that I had applied for, for living expenses, but because I don’t have a co-signer, I was denied ALL loans period. Including ones that would cover tuition. For me, school costs $8,223.00 a semester. That doesn’t include supplies or lab fees. Just 6 classes a quarter, once a week. That’s $18,000.00 a year.
I can’t afford that.
This had been the 8th time I went to financial aid, looking for help. Isn’t that their job? After speaking to everyone and their mother, I still had no answers, and nowhere to turn. After speaking to the head of the department, my spirits were low. She asked me why I was attending the most expensive school in the state, if I had no money. I replied, it’s because I am so passionate about art, I will do almost anything to stay. She studied me for a moment, as I grabbed my things and stormed out of the office.
I’m the first person in my family to go to college, and now I know why. I called my mother in tears. She said that perhaps I should look into other schools. It’s early enough in my schooling, where if I were to transfer, I could just cut my losses with AI, and start over fresh. She says I should aim for the new year, and apply for spring semester.
Maybe she’s right. I’ve noticed a trend recently with myself: When something looks really good, I get excited about it. When something sounds really good, I take action. When something turns out to be amazing, I dedicate myself to it. However, when shit hits the fan, and things aren’t quite what they seem, I start to doubt myself. Then when the problems are too great, I get overwhelmed, and run away.
Just like men. Whenever I’m in a relationship, I feel trapped, and I don’t know what to do. So I break it off. Happened with Roby, and it’ll happen again.
They say anything worth having, you have to work for. Well, when do you know if you’re working at something that will never happen?
I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I definitely look forward to my admissions meeting at CU Denver.
Matty B.
Friday, August 24, 2007
“Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving”
“I wish I was thirty, flirty, and thriving!” Those were the words that fast-forwarded Jennifer Garner’s character from the prepubescent age of thirteen, to the successful, attractive, “big shot” magazine executive, at the age of thirty, in the movie, “Thirteen Going on Thirty”.
At the end of the movie, she learned that she had treated her best friend wrong, and realized that everything she ever dreamed of was right where she left it: in a huge house in the middle of Connecticut, at the age of thirteen.
Well what happens when your childhood as well as your adulthood, are less than perfect? Why does that tall, skinny bitch get to have an amazing career, a gorgeous boyfriend, and still manage to have that fresh, rested look on her face, in the morning? That’s not happiness you see on her face, it’s a really good MAC foundation and bronzer.
I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, and I was concerned at what was staring back at me. The face was all too familiar: Pale, sickly, exhausted, and full of worry. The difference now, is that instead of me just waking up after a six-day coke binge, I was waking up after six, thirteen-hour workdays.
When I got to school this morning, I was immediately directed to the Financial Aid Department, where they told me I owe them thousands of dollars. After I leave, I walk to a computer lab, so I can apply for loans. I was declined. Then I go back to the Financial Aid Department, and they can’t help me, I have to schedule another appointment. So I do, for next Thursday.
As I sit here and think, I seem to have a revelation: their shit here stinks. I’m the first person in my family to go to college. EVER. Although I LOVE going to school, and I LOVE doing the projects assigned to me, the fact that they are creating all of these obstacles, just because I want to learn is bullshit.
Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted. Maybe it’s because I have been feeling sick for almost a week, and I just can’t seem to get a good night’s rest.
I know two things: I’ve been jumping through their flaming hoops, like a good little lion, but that is going to stop.
The other?
I need a hug.
Being an adult is just like being a kid. Except now I’m in debt.
*sigh*
Matty B.
“I wish I was thirty, flirty, and thriving!” Those were the words that fast-forwarded Jennifer Garner’s character from the prepubescent age of thirteen, to the successful, attractive, “big shot” magazine executive, at the age of thirty, in the movie, “Thirteen Going on Thirty”.
At the end of the movie, she learned that she had treated her best friend wrong, and realized that everything she ever dreamed of was right where she left it: in a huge house in the middle of Connecticut, at the age of thirteen.
Well what happens when your childhood as well as your adulthood, are less than perfect? Why does that tall, skinny bitch get to have an amazing career, a gorgeous boyfriend, and still manage to have that fresh, rested look on her face, in the morning? That’s not happiness you see on her face, it’s a really good MAC foundation and bronzer.
I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, and I was concerned at what was staring back at me. The face was all too familiar: Pale, sickly, exhausted, and full of worry. The difference now, is that instead of me just waking up after a six-day coke binge, I was waking up after six, thirteen-hour workdays.
When I got to school this morning, I was immediately directed to the Financial Aid Department, where they told me I owe them thousands of dollars. After I leave, I walk to a computer lab, so I can apply for loans. I was declined. Then I go back to the Financial Aid Department, and they can’t help me, I have to schedule another appointment. So I do, for next Thursday.
As I sit here and think, I seem to have a revelation: their shit here stinks. I’m the first person in my family to go to college. EVER. Although I LOVE going to school, and I LOVE doing the projects assigned to me, the fact that they are creating all of these obstacles, just because I want to learn is bullshit.
Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted. Maybe it’s because I have been feeling sick for almost a week, and I just can’t seem to get a good night’s rest.
I know two things: I’ve been jumping through their flaming hoops, like a good little lion, but that is going to stop.
The other?
I need a hug.
Being an adult is just like being a kid. Except now I’m in debt.
*sigh*
Matty B.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
The New Girl in Town [Part One:]
The bright afternoon sunlight gently caressed my face, as I looked up to the deep blue sky. As I clicked my cell phone shut, the reality that I was an adult had just begun to don on me. Stacy as US BANK was delighted to tell me that the credit card I applied for this morning was approved. However, instead of the standard $300 limit, they were going to give me $1000.
I walked into Safeway to buy Eric a pack of cigarettes, while he was picking up his black button up shirt from the dry cleaners, for this evening’s festivities. I handed Anne my ID card, and I couldn’t help but notice that she was giving me a sideways look. I had completely forgotten about the sparkling pink tiara that was delicately resting on my head. I politely explained to her that it was my birthday. She flicked her eyes to my ID, and declared that, yes, it was my birthday. She wished me well, and I was on my way.
I skipped out, and it seemed that the world was a bit brighter. All my fears about becoming an adult just vanished in a matter of moments. In mere hours, I’d be surrounded by all of my good friends, old and new. I’d be dancing the night away, and there’s nothing better.
I am thrilled, to say the least.
Matty B.
The bright afternoon sunlight gently caressed my face, as I looked up to the deep blue sky. As I clicked my cell phone shut, the reality that I was an adult had just begun to don on me. Stacy as US BANK was delighted to tell me that the credit card I applied for this morning was approved. However, instead of the standard $300 limit, they were going to give me $1000.
I walked into Safeway to buy Eric a pack of cigarettes, while he was picking up his black button up shirt from the dry cleaners, for this evening’s festivities. I handed Anne my ID card, and I couldn’t help but notice that she was giving me a sideways look. I had completely forgotten about the sparkling pink tiara that was delicately resting on my head. I politely explained to her that it was my birthday. She flicked her eyes to my ID, and declared that, yes, it was my birthday. She wished me well, and I was on my way.
I skipped out, and it seemed that the world was a bit brighter. All my fears about becoming an adult just vanished in a matter of moments. In mere hours, I’d be surrounded by all of my good friends, old and new. I’d be dancing the night away, and there’s nothing better.
I am thrilled, to say the least.
Matty B.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Perfect Day
I finally had my first full night’s rest, since moving into my new apartment. There was a cool summer breeze that kept me huddled under my new duvet cover all night, My 1,000 thread count Egyptian Cotton Sheets were comfortably broken in, and I was exhausted from working my ass off on the set of a fashion shoot all day.
10:51am. I was scheduled to work in 9 minutes. Knowing that the next bus would be coming at 11:36am, I took a deep breath, called a co-worker to notify her that I was going to be an hour late. Even though my morning was off to a rocky start, I was determined to set it back on track.
I slipped off my clothes, and slinked into the shower. I started my morning with a start: First with an invigorating body scrub from my work, followed by a small bowl of granola, finishing with a quick flatiron of my hair, and a cigarette. I swiped a banana off the counter to take for lunch, and headed out.
As I finished my second cigarette, the bus pulled up ten minutes late. But not before splashing a huge puddle of black gunk onto my new shoes. I frowned for a moment, brushed my hair from my face carelessly, tapped them off on the side of the bus and smiled at the bus driver, while I paid my fare.
I hopped off the bus, and started walking across the parking lot, towards the mall. As I crossed at the pedestrian cross walk, this crazed woman with fried white hair and an expression that resembled a cat’s asshole, screeched to a stop, less than a foot from my leg. I ignored her clear inability to drive, and kept walking to work.
Work was less than amusing, however I was working with my favorite co-worker, Asuka [Oss-kuh]. Then, I received a text message from Derek. He said he was in the area, and that he wanted to stop by and see me at work. This was an interesting situation, because not only was I not very attracted to him, but I had never met him before, and had only spoken with him very briefly a few times. However, my day was pretty boring, so I figured this would add an interesting turn in events. …And it did.
Although he was more attractive in person, he had nothing of value to say. His mouth was like a leaky tap that would not stop making useless noise. He was my ideal build: Big chest, strong arms, a bit of a beer gut; basically they body of a gorilla. However, it did not make up for the bad teeth, religious tattoos all over his body, and lack of cranial activity. We politely parted ways, he told me to call him when I got off work, and I told him I would.
Like the gentleman I am, I call him after I get off. I figure, although I’m not particularly attracted to him as far as dating goes; I haven’t been laid in quite some time, and he looked like he would at least be somewhat decent in bed.
He didn’t answer.
When I text him, he responds,” Sorry dude. I’m just not attracted to you.”
I pause for a moment, and re-read what he wrote. I text him back asking exactly he wasn’t attracted to. He responds,” I just like guys that are shorter than me, and you lip ring is a huge turn off.”
Those are two bits of information you could have gotten off of my profile on connexion. So not only was he an unattractive moron, but to add insult to injury, he was an unattractive moron who didn’t want to sleep with me. That is SO my life.
I walk to the bus stop, and start the ride home. I talk to my brother, and he tells me that if he doesn’t get this job in Chicago, he’ll be immediately moving to China, where he’ll teach ESL. He figures he won’t be back for five years or so. Apparently it’s expensive to fly back and visit.
I sit on my bus, with my head hung low. BFF Eric and BFF Steven were at Eric’s house in Broomfeild, while BFF Nic, was at Mary’s pregaming before a concert. I headed home, spirits and mood, low.
As I started my shower, I heard “California Dreamin’” by the Mama’s and the Papa’s. I smiled to myself and remembered that while I don’t always get to choose the circumstances of my life, I get to choose how I deal with them.
I wish the best to my brother.
And I can only look hopeful towards to future.
Because sometimes you need to deal with it alone.
Matty B.
I finally had my first full night’s rest, since moving into my new apartment. There was a cool summer breeze that kept me huddled under my new duvet cover all night, My 1,000 thread count Egyptian Cotton Sheets were comfortably broken in, and I was exhausted from working my ass off on the set of a fashion shoot all day.
10:51am. I was scheduled to work in 9 minutes. Knowing that the next bus would be coming at 11:36am, I took a deep breath, called a co-worker to notify her that I was going to be an hour late. Even though my morning was off to a rocky start, I was determined to set it back on track.
I slipped off my clothes, and slinked into the shower. I started my morning with a start: First with an invigorating body scrub from my work, followed by a small bowl of granola, finishing with a quick flatiron of my hair, and a cigarette. I swiped a banana off the counter to take for lunch, and headed out.
As I finished my second cigarette, the bus pulled up ten minutes late. But not before splashing a huge puddle of black gunk onto my new shoes. I frowned for a moment, brushed my hair from my face carelessly, tapped them off on the side of the bus and smiled at the bus driver, while I paid my fare.
I hopped off the bus, and started walking across the parking lot, towards the mall. As I crossed at the pedestrian cross walk, this crazed woman with fried white hair and an expression that resembled a cat’s asshole, screeched to a stop, less than a foot from my leg. I ignored her clear inability to drive, and kept walking to work.
Work was less than amusing, however I was working with my favorite co-worker, Asuka [Oss-kuh]. Then, I received a text message from Derek. He said he was in the area, and that he wanted to stop by and see me at work. This was an interesting situation, because not only was I not very attracted to him, but I had never met him before, and had only spoken with him very briefly a few times. However, my day was pretty boring, so I figured this would add an interesting turn in events. …And it did.
Although he was more attractive in person, he had nothing of value to say. His mouth was like a leaky tap that would not stop making useless noise. He was my ideal build: Big chest, strong arms, a bit of a beer gut; basically they body of a gorilla. However, it did not make up for the bad teeth, religious tattoos all over his body, and lack of cranial activity. We politely parted ways, he told me to call him when I got off work, and I told him I would.
Like the gentleman I am, I call him after I get off. I figure, although I’m not particularly attracted to him as far as dating goes; I haven’t been laid in quite some time, and he looked like he would at least be somewhat decent in bed.
He didn’t answer.
When I text him, he responds,” Sorry dude. I’m just not attracted to you.”
I pause for a moment, and re-read what he wrote. I text him back asking exactly he wasn’t attracted to. He responds,” I just like guys that are shorter than me, and you lip ring is a huge turn off.”
Those are two bits of information you could have gotten off of my profile on connexion. So not only was he an unattractive moron, but to add insult to injury, he was an unattractive moron who didn’t want to sleep with me. That is SO my life.
I walk to the bus stop, and start the ride home. I talk to my brother, and he tells me that if he doesn’t get this job in Chicago, he’ll be immediately moving to China, where he’ll teach ESL. He figures he won’t be back for five years or so. Apparently it’s expensive to fly back and visit.
I sit on my bus, with my head hung low. BFF Eric and BFF Steven were at Eric’s house in Broomfeild, while BFF Nic, was at Mary’s pregaming before a concert. I headed home, spirits and mood, low.
As I started my shower, I heard “California Dreamin’” by the Mama’s and the Papa’s. I smiled to myself and remembered that while I don’t always get to choose the circumstances of my life, I get to choose how I deal with them.
I wish the best to my brother.
And I can only look hopeful towards to future.
Because sometimes you need to deal with it alone.
Matty B.
Monday, August 06, 2007
That’s The Way We Get By
He told me today that he’s leaving. He’s going to road trip to Chicago, and he doesn’t think he’s going to come back.
I held the phone close to my head, and I dazed out in disbelief. I asked him when he was leaving. He replied,” Tomorrow. …I’m not going to be here for your birthday.” I closed my eyes, and hung up the phone without another word.
When I was 15, had no friends, and was forced to live in his mother’s abusive home, he was there. When I spent the entire day at a school with people that shared a mutual hatred with me, he would come pick me up and tell me it would all be okay. When I couldn’t deal with the world, we’d hide from his mother in the shed out in the back yard, and smoke chronic out of a makeshift bong made out of Styrofoam cups.
When I moved to Denver, and didn’t have a friend in the world, he would drive out to stay with me, to let me know that I wasn’t completely alone.
I shared a bed with my little brother until I was 13, and a room with him until I moved out. For two years, I haven’t had the rejuvenating sleep that I would get from sharing a bedroom. When I moved out, my older brother stepped up, and filled the void that my little brother had left.
When it’s your family, I don’t think you’re allowed to call it an unhealthy co-dependency. When you’re family, it’s called a bond.
While getting clean, he would talk me through long nights. Even if for only a minute, the fact that he was the one person in the world that I knew would answer his phone and talk to me... no matter what happened.
Over the past few months, I haven’t been as available to see him as much as I’d like. With going to school full time, and working two jobs, it’s been tasking. However, we’ve always kept touch. So when he called me and told me he wasn’t coming back, I was absolutely devastated. I still am.
It’s one of those tasking situations that life likes to throw at you, right when you think things are going to be all right. I’ve really prided myself on being emotionally independent for the past few years, and it’s been made very apparent to me how dependant I actually am.
I couldn’t hold the tears in, as “Family” off the Dreamgirls OST started up. It felt I was loosing a leg. It felt like I was loosing a part of me.
My mom says that he’ll run out of money, and will be knocking on my front door begging for a shower and some food in no time. The problem is, is what if he doesn’t come back? What if something happens? He’s not the most responsible man. Almost 21, he’s not even finished with his second year in college, and lives in his van. I love him regardless of his personal decisions. However, I don’t think he’s thought this through completely.
I shower off my emotions, and I step onto the dry carpet. Refreshed and new, I feel empowered. Maybe I don’t need him as much as I thought. You know what? If he wants to run off to Chicago, and never come back, let him.
I put on my face, and flatiron my hair. With every deep breath, I feel myself calm. It’s not like he’s never done this before. I ran away to Mongolia for three months, last summer, missing my birthday. He does this all the time. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I love him, but if I don’t let him make his own choices and mistakes, then how is he going to learn?
Good Riddence.
Matty B.
He told me today that he’s leaving. He’s going to road trip to Chicago, and he doesn’t think he’s going to come back.
I held the phone close to my head, and I dazed out in disbelief. I asked him when he was leaving. He replied,” Tomorrow. …I’m not going to be here for your birthday.” I closed my eyes, and hung up the phone without another word.
When I was 15, had no friends, and was forced to live in his mother’s abusive home, he was there. When I spent the entire day at a school with people that shared a mutual hatred with me, he would come pick me up and tell me it would all be okay. When I couldn’t deal with the world, we’d hide from his mother in the shed out in the back yard, and smoke chronic out of a makeshift bong made out of Styrofoam cups.
When I moved to Denver, and didn’t have a friend in the world, he would drive out to stay with me, to let me know that I wasn’t completely alone.
I shared a bed with my little brother until I was 13, and a room with him until I moved out. For two years, I haven’t had the rejuvenating sleep that I would get from sharing a bedroom. When I moved out, my older brother stepped up, and filled the void that my little brother had left.
When it’s your family, I don’t think you’re allowed to call it an unhealthy co-dependency. When you’re family, it’s called a bond.
While getting clean, he would talk me through long nights. Even if for only a minute, the fact that he was the one person in the world that I knew would answer his phone and talk to me... no matter what happened.
Over the past few months, I haven’t been as available to see him as much as I’d like. With going to school full time, and working two jobs, it’s been tasking. However, we’ve always kept touch. So when he called me and told me he wasn’t coming back, I was absolutely devastated. I still am.
It’s one of those tasking situations that life likes to throw at you, right when you think things are going to be all right. I’ve really prided myself on being emotionally independent for the past few years, and it’s been made very apparent to me how dependant I actually am.
I couldn’t hold the tears in, as “Family” off the Dreamgirls OST started up. It felt I was loosing a leg. It felt like I was loosing a part of me.
My mom says that he’ll run out of money, and will be knocking on my front door begging for a shower and some food in no time. The problem is, is what if he doesn’t come back? What if something happens? He’s not the most responsible man. Almost 21, he’s not even finished with his second year in college, and lives in his van. I love him regardless of his personal decisions. However, I don’t think he’s thought this through completely.
I shower off my emotions, and I step onto the dry carpet. Refreshed and new, I feel empowered. Maybe I don’t need him as much as I thought. You know what? If he wants to run off to Chicago, and never come back, let him.
I put on my face, and flatiron my hair. With every deep breath, I feel myself calm. It’s not like he’s never done this before. I ran away to Mongolia for three months, last summer, missing my birthday. He does this all the time. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I love him, but if I don’t let him make his own choices and mistakes, then how is he going to learn?
Good Riddence.
Matty B.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Quinceanera
My favorite television shows growing up were Law and Order: SVU, CSI: MIAMI, and Cold Case. So yes, moving to a big city is defiantly terrifying for me. Especially because if I fuck up, get murdered, or become homeless, I’ll have nowhere to go, or any clue what to do. However, I have a plan for my life, and I am destined to fulfill it.
My doubts weren’t if I was going to make it out here, but if I could make it out here alone, and by myself.
When I first moved to Denver 9 months ago (has it really been that long already?), I didn’t have very friends to my name. In fact, the fact that I was so alone, really pressured me into being outgoing enough to make new friends, start over fresh; thus the initial goal of my move.
It wasn’t easy, to say the least. I found myself running to the homes of old friends, in Boulder, where I felt safe, and accepted. This was a repeating occurrence for the first 4 months of living in Denver. In fact I even tried to date a boy that lived in Boulder, to perhaps force me to be there even more. I very quickly wizened up, realized that I was a big boy, and that I had moved to Denver to grow up: So I did.
Denver has been less than welcoming. My dear friend Nic was fortunate enough to get a warm welcome, he states in his blog. I however, as usual, am left fighting for new friendships, and acceptance among the VERY cliquey “Gay Denver Social Scene.” Through my Best Friend Eric’s employment at the most popular gay restaurant in the city, I’ve started to meet people, network, and even find a few friends.
He’s always telling me how my friends are always his friends. The people that I introduce to him end up being his friends as well. Well little does he know, that by waiting tables at this fagulous restaurant, he’s introduced me to a world of people that I could never begin to talk to.
Yes, straight women [and the occasional straight man] absolutely love me. I wear bronzer and I tell them what to wear. I dance with them at clubs, and I’ll willingly cut and style their hair. (Sorry about the rhyme) Yet no matter how many girlfriends I’ve had, I’ve just had an impossible time breaking into the gay scene, until I started hanging out more frequently with Nic and Eric.
Eric is my confidant. I tell him everything, and spend as much time with him as I can, not to mention the amount of time I spend sitting in his section at his restaurant. He introduces me to fabulous people, always has my back, and is always honest with me. And honesty is a difficult trait to find in a man. Especially a gay man.
Nic is my life coach. A few years my senior, he’s been through similar things I have: Big move to a new city, starting over from scratch, and breaking into the gay scene. He takes me to fabulous clubs, recently started dining with me, and always gives me advice when I so desperately need it. And of course poses for pictures with me while at a club or event.
Basically, I’ve been instilled with the whole package: Matty B.’s Starter Kit To Becoming Fabulous in The Mile High City.
While I don’t know what the future holds for me, I do know one thing: As my “coming out” date approaches, I know that I have two people at my side who can gently guide me in the right direction, as I develop as a person, and as a socialite.
Matty B.
My favorite television shows growing up were Law and Order: SVU, CSI: MIAMI, and Cold Case. So yes, moving to a big city is defiantly terrifying for me. Especially because if I fuck up, get murdered, or become homeless, I’ll have nowhere to go, or any clue what to do. However, I have a plan for my life, and I am destined to fulfill it.
My doubts weren’t if I was going to make it out here, but if I could make it out here alone, and by myself.
When I first moved to Denver 9 months ago (has it really been that long already?), I didn’t have very friends to my name. In fact, the fact that I was so alone, really pressured me into being outgoing enough to make new friends, start over fresh; thus the initial goal of my move.
It wasn’t easy, to say the least. I found myself running to the homes of old friends, in Boulder, where I felt safe, and accepted. This was a repeating occurrence for the first 4 months of living in Denver. In fact I even tried to date a boy that lived in Boulder, to perhaps force me to be there even more. I very quickly wizened up, realized that I was a big boy, and that I had moved to Denver to grow up: So I did.
Denver has been less than welcoming. My dear friend Nic was fortunate enough to get a warm welcome, he states in his blog. I however, as usual, am left fighting for new friendships, and acceptance among the VERY cliquey “Gay Denver Social Scene.” Through my Best Friend Eric’s employment at the most popular gay restaurant in the city, I’ve started to meet people, network, and even find a few friends.
He’s always telling me how my friends are always his friends. The people that I introduce to him end up being his friends as well. Well little does he know, that by waiting tables at this fagulous restaurant, he’s introduced me to a world of people that I could never begin to talk to.
Yes, straight women [and the occasional straight man] absolutely love me. I wear bronzer and I tell them what to wear. I dance with them at clubs, and I’ll willingly cut and style their hair. (Sorry about the rhyme) Yet no matter how many girlfriends I’ve had, I’ve just had an impossible time breaking into the gay scene, until I started hanging out more frequently with Nic and Eric.
Eric is my confidant. I tell him everything, and spend as much time with him as I can, not to mention the amount of time I spend sitting in his section at his restaurant. He introduces me to fabulous people, always has my back, and is always honest with me. And honesty is a difficult trait to find in a man. Especially a gay man.
Nic is my life coach. A few years my senior, he’s been through similar things I have: Big move to a new city, starting over from scratch, and breaking into the gay scene. He takes me to fabulous clubs, recently started dining with me, and always gives me advice when I so desperately need it. And of course poses for pictures with me while at a club or event.
Basically, I’ve been instilled with the whole package: Matty B.’s Starter Kit To Becoming Fabulous in The Mile High City.
While I don’t know what the future holds for me, I do know one thing: As my “coming out” date approaches, I know that I have two people at my side who can gently guide me in the right direction, as I develop as a person, and as a socialite.
Matty B.
You Said, You Can’t Change The Way You Feel, But I Can
Everyone had stone cold expressions. No one would make eye contact with me. I was walking through a Technicolor world that had a raging black ink stain. I couldn’t understand why everyone was so calm, so still. I frantically ran in circles around these people, waving my arms screaming at the top of my lungs, but no one made a sound. Not even me. My brothers were sitting next to each other. I ran past them, to see her bloody remains in the open casket. How could this have happened? Why hadn’t they prepared her for the viewing? Why was everyone so lost?
I could feel the beads of cold sweat slowly slide down my face. I was incredibly aware of my surroundings, and the people around me. I run to my brothers, and start shaking them; hitting them; crying. They both look at me with brilliant eyes, and I feel them pull away from me.
They say in unison,” What are you getting so upset about? You hated her. You’ve been wishing for this day your entire life. Everyone knows she hated you more than anything.”
Stunned, I take a step back. Was this what I had wanted? Spending my entire childhood picturing all the horrible things that should happen this wretched woman, finally did. Years later, after I gained my freedom. I start to cry, and run back to the open casket.
My mother looks up at me with a completely blank expression, not unlike how she used to greet me when I was a kid, after disappearing to Central City for weeks at a time. I rest my head on her chest, and my mind just wanders.
I’ve never really come to terms with my childhood. Nor have I ever come to terms with the horrible things that my mother used to do; whether or not it was directed towards my brother and I. As far as I’m concerned, my life started June 19th 2005, when I stood there in the rain, knocking at my cousin Vyckee’s door, holding my cheerleading duffle bag, filled with a few pairs of stained clothing, flip flops, $23.54, and a few photographs of friends and family.
Suddenly I’m standing with a totem pole expression, and I take her hand, and whisper, “I love you”. Her eyes go wide, and she leaps out, grabs my neck, and pulls me into the coffin.
I wake with a start. Third night in a row that I’ve had this terrifying dream, and I’m in the same familiar position as before; wiping sweat from my brow, brushing tears from my eyes, and breathing heavily. I lie back in my bed, and rest my eyes shut.
I’ve been pretending nothing has happened. Whenever something unfortunate happens, I shut it out, and paint a smile on my face. My entire philosophy on life is, “Nobody likes a Debby Downer!” as well as, “If you start the day with a smile, then you’ll finish it with one.”
For the most part, it seems to work. However recently, I’ve been finding that my mind has just been haunted by everything that has happened over the past decade. I believe that if you are going to get anywhere in your life, you have to accept the bad with the good. It seems though, that I’ve just been ignoring the bad, and trying to focus on the good… and that can be an exhausting feat within it’s self.
I sit at the bottom of the shower, and let the heat and pressure cleanse my body, as well as my mind. As time slowly passes, the waves of heat release the pent up emotional baggage that has been plaguing my mind for the past few weeks. I run my hands though my hair, and tilt my head back, to feel the water wash over my face. I slowly breathe in and out, relaxing my body, freeing my mind, and accepting the things that I cannot change about my life, and about myself.
As I towel myself off, I can already feel some weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I lie in my warm, dry bed, and try to think about how I can make tomorrow a better day for myself.
I don’t know if this will be an effective way to ward off these nightmares, but it’s defiantly a step in the right direction. Sometimes you just need to take a moment for yourself, assess your situation, accept the bad with the good, and reassure your optimism through moments of self-reflection.
They say that everyone is looking for that perfect soul mate. Well, I’m just looking for that perfect soul.
Matty B.
Everyone had stone cold expressions. No one would make eye contact with me. I was walking through a Technicolor world that had a raging black ink stain. I couldn’t understand why everyone was so calm, so still. I frantically ran in circles around these people, waving my arms screaming at the top of my lungs, but no one made a sound. Not even me. My brothers were sitting next to each other. I ran past them, to see her bloody remains in the open casket. How could this have happened? Why hadn’t they prepared her for the viewing? Why was everyone so lost?
I could feel the beads of cold sweat slowly slide down my face. I was incredibly aware of my surroundings, and the people around me. I run to my brothers, and start shaking them; hitting them; crying. They both look at me with brilliant eyes, and I feel them pull away from me.
They say in unison,” What are you getting so upset about? You hated her. You’ve been wishing for this day your entire life. Everyone knows she hated you more than anything.”
Stunned, I take a step back. Was this what I had wanted? Spending my entire childhood picturing all the horrible things that should happen this wretched woman, finally did. Years later, after I gained my freedom. I start to cry, and run back to the open casket.
My mother looks up at me with a completely blank expression, not unlike how she used to greet me when I was a kid, after disappearing to Central City for weeks at a time. I rest my head on her chest, and my mind just wanders.
I’ve never really come to terms with my childhood. Nor have I ever come to terms with the horrible things that my mother used to do; whether or not it was directed towards my brother and I. As far as I’m concerned, my life started June 19th 2005, when I stood there in the rain, knocking at my cousin Vyckee’s door, holding my cheerleading duffle bag, filled with a few pairs of stained clothing, flip flops, $23.54, and a few photographs of friends and family.
Suddenly I’m standing with a totem pole expression, and I take her hand, and whisper, “I love you”. Her eyes go wide, and she leaps out, grabs my neck, and pulls me into the coffin.
I wake with a start. Third night in a row that I’ve had this terrifying dream, and I’m in the same familiar position as before; wiping sweat from my brow, brushing tears from my eyes, and breathing heavily. I lie back in my bed, and rest my eyes shut.
I’ve been pretending nothing has happened. Whenever something unfortunate happens, I shut it out, and paint a smile on my face. My entire philosophy on life is, “Nobody likes a Debby Downer!” as well as, “If you start the day with a smile, then you’ll finish it with one.”
For the most part, it seems to work. However recently, I’ve been finding that my mind has just been haunted by everything that has happened over the past decade. I believe that if you are going to get anywhere in your life, you have to accept the bad with the good. It seems though, that I’ve just been ignoring the bad, and trying to focus on the good… and that can be an exhausting feat within it’s self.
I sit at the bottom of the shower, and let the heat and pressure cleanse my body, as well as my mind. As time slowly passes, the waves of heat release the pent up emotional baggage that has been plaguing my mind for the past few weeks. I run my hands though my hair, and tilt my head back, to feel the water wash over my face. I slowly breathe in and out, relaxing my body, freeing my mind, and accepting the things that I cannot change about my life, and about myself.
As I towel myself off, I can already feel some weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I lie in my warm, dry bed, and try to think about how I can make tomorrow a better day for myself.
I don’t know if this will be an effective way to ward off these nightmares, but it’s defiantly a step in the right direction. Sometimes you just need to take a moment for yourself, assess your situation, accept the bad with the good, and reassure your optimism through moments of self-reflection.
They say that everyone is looking for that perfect soul mate. Well, I’m just looking for that perfect soul.
Matty B.