One of the topics discussed was whether it is a choice or not. I have to be honest and say that I’m tired of that question. As usual, the straight person felt that it was a choice. The gay person felt he was born this way. Has anyone ever stopped to wonder why all of the people who feel it’s a choice are straight? What experience do straight people have with the topic to even warrant having an opinion on the matter strong enough to tell another person that, “You, sir, chose to be the way that you are.” He didn’t actually say that, I just added that for effect.

We didn’t choose to be gay any more than you chose to be straight.

As I mentioned in my comment to the blog post, here’s my take on it: I didn’t choose to be gay. Far from it. I started getting an inkling that I am gay around the sixth grade. I was in utter denial about it until probably around the 11th grade. I went through all of the typical denial stages: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Well, I may have skipped the Anger part of that. At least I don’t recall being angry at anyone about it. I mostly remember the Bargaining stage. I did everything from repeatedly praying to God, saying that I’d be good and do anything I was supposed to do as long as He made me straight, to flipping coins and telling myself that one side meant I was straight and the other meant I was gay. Unfortunately, that only gave me 50/50 results (no, I’m not bisexual). By around the ninth or tenth grade (or my second sophomore year) I was going through the Depression stage. People who went to school with me may remember me as being a bit of a loner, sitting off by myself all the time and being pretty quiet, for the most part. The depression was one of the primary reasons for this.

Where, in any of that, could anyone get the idea that I chose to be gay? I do feel that we are born with a predisposition to becoming gay, which would typically manifest around puberty. I can’t say “born gay,” really, because we aren’t really born as sexual beings. You can’t really call a baby “gay,” or a five year old “gay,” (or even “straight”) but you may see some hints that the child will end up gay. He may do some of the stereotypical things, like playing with Barbies or having no interest in sports; he may just seem effeminate. He may show no signs at all, but if he’s got that predilection, it will eventually manifest.

There are some people who seem to become gay later in life. I have no personal experience with this other than to say that I did date girls in, and shortly after, high school, but I wasn’t sexually attracted to them. I simply didn’t know how to decline their offer to go out. To be clear, though, I’ve never had sex with a woman. My suspicion with the people who jump the fence later on in life is that they may have just been in denial for a longer time, perhaps due to familial influences to behave a certain way, or for religious reasons. They may have always been bisexual but didn’t reveal that aspect to anyone. Alfred Kinsey believed sexuality to be fluid and that people could flow from gay to straight, and everything in between, over the years. That hasn’t been the case for me, but who’s to say it couldn’t be the case for someone else? Again, this still isn’t a choice, any more than you choose to like Coke instead of Pepsi.

Related posts:

1. Ron Reagan, Jr. & The Adam Carolla Show
2. Accepting Non-Acceptance
3. Picking on Straights

I bet you thought I was going to write about the hate crime. No, that’s too obvious of a thing to write about and has been written about countless times before. I want to write about how us gay folk expect everyone to immediately be okay with us being gay. As if it is owed to us. The whole Matthew Shepard story just reminded me to write this – how his parents had to come to terms with him being gay.

I first came out to a friend of mine around 1997 or so. She was the first person whom I told and she took it just fine. The second person was my mom. She took it okay. She said that sh had suspicions and said that she loved me and it quickly became this subject that the two of us rarely spoke of. It was an uncomfortable subject.

My mom was always open about discussing sex with me when I was young. She’d answer any questions that I had without embarrassment but there was never a time when the subject of “gay” came up. When I told her, rather late in life, that I am gay it became this delicate subject which neither of us knew how to discuss. I certainly wasn’t going to discuss my sex life with her and she wasn’t going to ask. I didn’t have a boyfriend so there wasn’t anything really to help bring up the subject. Over time, though, it became less of a taboo subject.

I often hear of how annoyed some newly out gay people get when their family doesn’t quite know how to talk to them, or when they say the wrong things, seem ignorant or even intolerant. It always bugs me a bit when I hear this. I’m not so much irritated with the family as I am with the newbie gay. Now, I’m not talking about people who beat their gay kids, or kick them out, or refuse to see them. I’m talking about the families that just seem uncomfortable.

I first started suspecting that I’m gay back when I was in 6th grade. I quickly went into denial about it. I argued with my feelings, prayed, bargained… everything. I didn’t start accepting it until I was in 11th grade or so. Even then, I still wasn’t comfortable with it. I knew I’d never tell anyone. I even planned on marrying some unsuspecting girl just to keep the secret.

Even in ‘97, when I first came out, I wasn’t completely comfortable with it. I just got tired of the secret. I had to tell someone, and I did. Now, doing the math, it took me 13 or 14 years to begin to just deal with the fact. How could I expect anyone that I tell, at any point in my life, to just accept it with open arms at the very moment that I tell them. I expect them to love me, I expect them to not reject me, but I don’t expect that they won’t cry, or that they won’t be confused.

For the person that is just being told, assuming they had no clue, this is their very first moment with having to deal with it. They may be absolutely fine if they’ve known other gay people, but they may not be ready to hear that their own kid is gay. A lot of people take it as news that their kid is going to live a very difficult life, and never have kids (no grand-kids for them), never have a spouse. Of course, we all know that a gay life isn’t all that difficult, that there are gay parents, and there are gay people who, though not married, are happily partnered.

People who have never been exposed to gay people tend to have all of the stereotypes stuck in their head of AIDS victims, of flaming queens, and promiscuous sex. If they’ve ever seen coverage of a Pride parade on the news they’d surely think we all cross-dress, and fart glitter. I suppose some people do fart glitter, but not all of us do.

Before I started to realize that I’m gay I had all of the stereotypes in my head. I had to take the initiative to educate myself. Someone just being told that their kid is gay doesn’t really get the chance to prepare themselves. They don’t know a damn thing, and how can they be expected to? What reason would they have had to educate themselves? If I didn’t know a single gay person and wasn’t gay myself, I might be just as ignorant. I’m not a redneck and don’t really know any, so why would I try to educate myself about them? I have no interest in playing their redneck games.

What I do expect out of people is that they don’t hate. I expect that a person makes an effort to educate themselves. I don’t expect immediate acceptance. Tolerance, at the very least, is sufficient for me. Ask me questions. I can’t guarantee that I won’t snicker when you ask me, “Who’s the girl?” but I will answer you honestly, and I’ll try not to be offended. I’ll try to understand that you are new to this and I’ve had years to deal with what you are just now being introduced to. It wasn’t a choice for me, in fact it was a rather difficult realization. Realizing that your son, daughter, brother, sister, mother, father, or your best friend is gay can’t be expected to be much easier, so I won’t treat it like it should be, and I won’t blame you for not being as informed or in-the-know as I am today.

This is one reason why it is important for people to be open. Yes, it is difficult, and yes it can be uncomfortable, but it helps others. Each person that you come out to is getting some degree of education which may help them in the future if a loved one comes out to them. If someone I’ve worked with in the past, knowing that I’m gay, and liked me, and didn’t see all of the things that they presumed defined a “faggot” perhaps it will be easier for them to deal with their own son or daughter coming out to them.

I suppose I’m done with my poorly-written rant now.

Related posts:

1. Picking on Straights
2. Thoughts of Memories
3. Don’t be Gay!

A while ago I was seeing some updates via third parties of someone who had added old grade school group photos to his profile. I haven’t tried to add this person to my friends list cause I simply didn’t remember ever talking to him. At any rate, he and these other folks who are on my list, went to a different grade school than myself. They were all reminiscing about their experiences during 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th grade. I was reading some of their stuff and was amused by their observations of their lives during that time and then I tried to recall my life during that time. I couldn’t come up with anything. I can’t remember teacher’s names, I can’t remember who was in which classes with me, aside from a few folks. Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me or if I’ve just spent so much of my life trying to forget my school years that I’ve actually managed to do so for real.

I remember only small bits and pieces. I remember my first crushes on girls (Yes, girls. They were clearly innocent crushes.) and my first real crush on a boy, which resulted in my first naughty dream. This guy is actually on my Facebook friend’s list. Anyways, I remember him, obviously, and a few other names and faces. I remember getting called a fag, though I think that happens to everyone. I remember getting laughed at a lot, being made fun, and having a hard time making friends because I was extremely shy. I also remember the bad mistake of bringing a cane to school once after my kneecap had dislocated the day prior resulting in being made fun of for a few days thereafter. Usually I don’t think of this stuff, but when you go through Facebook looking at all of these names and trying to remember your childhood, this is the shit that comes to mind.

Grade school wasn’t so bad though, not like junior high and high school were. I do remember having friends in junior and senior high. These were friends that I had through all of those years. Bill and Tracy were boys that I didn’t meet until junior high school. They had gone to the one other grade school in town, Westwood Elementary. I went to J.J. Smith Elementary. At that time there was only one junior high school so kids from both of the elementary schools ended up there. It made the prospect of junior high a little frightening for me as it would mean I’d have to meet a lot more kids. But it also meant a new start. Unfortunately my new start was the same as always.

Bill and Tracy were kind of geeky like I was. Or maybe more nerdy? Hmm… I can’t say I was geeky or nerdy as that would imply that I had decent-to-good grades. My grades always sucked. I don’t know about their grades, but mine were usually horrible. I simply never put forth any effort in school. At any rate, we weren’t among the popular folks so I think we bonded on that level at first.

The last couple of days I’ve been watching “Freaks and Geeks” on DVD. It reminds me so much of my school days. The show is set in the ’80s and is primarily about the geeks and secondly about the freaks. I very much identify with the geeks in the show. I had friends like them, I was one of them. I could swear the show is a virtual documentary of my life. The primary geek, Sam, is always getting picked on. He does nothing to deserve it aside from existing and looking like an easy target. I must have been an easy target as well. I always dressed out of style, had no knowledge of any of the cool things of the time. I didn’t listen to music, didn’t play any sports, and was socially awkward. Oops, I forgot to mention what part of my school days I’m describing… Well, I suppose it’s describing all of it. All but perhaps my senior year.

I was regularly tormented in junior high school. I had to walk out of my way to avoid people. One guy, who I recently had to struggle to remember the name of (Jason Vine) was an ass who took a hating to me. I don’t recall why. I was a bit of a smart ass at some point in my childhood, but I don’t recall if that was the cause. I do remember him punching me in the gut during Foreign Language class and having the wind knocked out of me for what seemed like minutes.

During junior high I was beginning my struggle and denial about being gay. I was in my shell, shy, and unsure of myself. I also avoided the showers after gym class. I was never keen on the idea of the group shower. In grade school we had swimming class for a week or two and I avoided the shower and changing in front of the other boys pretty well. In 6th grade we all had to go to camp for a week and we had to shower in a group shower there every night. Somehow I managed to avoid it for a day or two but the counselors caught on and the nicer of the two guys encouraged me to get in the damn thing. I managed to force myself into the shower after it was nearly empty. It was horribly uncomfortable for me. “Freaks and Geeks” reminded me of this as well when the main character, Sam, was avoiding the showers and was forced to take one. His experience was worse than mine, but still, it was a reminder.

In junior high we had to shower after gym class. My locker was in the far corner away from the teacher so, to some degree, it was easy for me to get away with skipping the shower but then the asshole kid next to me started threatening to tattle if I didn’t pay him off. I had to pay him a quarter a day or so to keep his mouth shut. I had that asshole sitting to my left and a cute guy that I had a crush on to my right. I usually tried to keep my eyes to myself, with only the rare sneak peek.

On the occasions when I didn’t have the blackmail money I ran the risk of the asshole yelling, “Take a shower, Dave!” over the lockers in the locker room to all of the other boys in there. To my horror, that phrase caught on among my fellow classmates. I would not only hear, “Take a shower, Dave!” in the hallways between classes, and in the cafeteria during lunch, but I’d hear it on the walk home when it was yelled out over a public address system which someones big brother installed in their truck. I heard it somewhat in high school as well, but not nearly as much.

In junior high I have some vague memories of one girl who was sarcastically sweet to me. I’ve never understood that behavior. “Oh, Dave, you are soooo cool!” followed by giggling and mocking. That sort of thing kept me from accepting compliments for many years. The one girl who holds a place in my memory solely for doing that sort of thing is also on my Facebook list. A few years ago she had discovered me on Classmates.com and congratulated me on coming out on there and commented that that’s pretty cool. I didn’t quite know what to think of that. Was she being sarcastic or genuine? I’m more inclined to believe it was genuine as I would hope she’d have outgrown that sort of thing by that point, but you never know. I gave her the benefit of the doubt, at any rate.

In my high school years I went into my shell even further. The whole school seemed quite clique-ish and I felt a need to fit in somewhere. The easiest was the “waver” group which today would be called “emo” or “goth,” I suppose. I didn’t even really fit in there but it’s pretty damn easy to wear black every day, have a fucked up hair-do, and stick to yourself. My friends had a different lunch period than I did and we didn’t have any classes together. I had to repeat my sophomore year due to not applying myself, so I felt separated from my entire class yet still saw them all in the hallways and during lunch. My denial about being gay was getting a bit better by that point. I was at least accepting it but was bound and determined to never, ever come out to anyone. At that time I told myself that I’d just get married and live my life like a straight person. Luckily I never stuck to that faulty plan.

I had crushes on numerous boys but never made any moves. I would usually try to befriend them, but was too shy to do anything more than joke around with them during class. I think at one point one of these boys figured it out because suddenly he and all of his friends stopped talking to me and started avoiding me. I even took some elective classes just to be close to one boy. The bright side of having done that is that I did get to know him as a friend and I made a few new friends.

My senior year took a bit of a turn to the positive. Having repeated my sophomore year, I was behind my class so, by my senior year, they were all gone. This was my new start. I got into drama class where I got to come out of my shell a bit and be a goofball and be totally accepted. I also got my first job, which I hated, but that boy that I had a crush on, who was the reason I took certain electives, also worked there. I worked at Burger King for four and a half years primarily because I didn’t want to leave a job where I could see my crush several times a week for several hours each day. I wish I were kidding. I hated that job too.

My senior year was kind of cool though. Drama class, allowed me to meet Layla, who many years later I found out is lesbian. She’s on my Facebook. I met Rob, who I’m pretty damn certain is gay, but I can’t be positive. He’s on my Facebook. And then there’s Joe. Joe is on my Facebook as well. He’s also the one that I had that first dream about, way back in 6th grade.

When people ask me, “When did you first know you were gay?” my answer involves that dream. Though I haven’t had much contact with Joe in the 17 or so years since I graduated, he holds a special place in my heart. He and I both graduated a year late. He was held back due to absences, I believe. He and I were also drama lackeys, along with Layla and Rob, during our senior year. We were teacher’s aids for the drama teacher. Technically Joe and I were T.A.s for that teacher’s English class, but since she needed more help with her drama class, constructing sets and such, we ended up doing that instead. It was a blast. I even joined the Drama Club just a few months before graduation, just so I could be a part of it. It involved a hazing process in which I had to wear a John Travolta style leisure suit to class one day and if any of the other drama club kids pointed at me I’d have to sing some stupid song. In a way, that helped bring me out of my comfort zone, and out of my shell.

Now days I try not to dwell on my school days. When I think of my childhood I usually remember times with my cousin, who I saw on weekends for my entire childhood. I don’t think much of my school time. I’ve managed to forgive most people who made my childhood difficult, but I still remember these moments on occasion. What bothers me is that when I think of my school days, this is all I can remember: mostly the shitty times I had, and very little with regards to more pleasant experiences. Sometimes I wonder if my memory is faulty, or if I’ve just blocked a lot of it out.

This is what happens when I don’t post for a long time.

Related posts:

1. Special Ed.
2. Joe from Enumclaw High School… (Not a Musical)
3. Is it a Choice or Not?

I haven’t tested the lights and sound yet. If it’s interesting enough I’ll post a video… though I’m feeling a little lazy at the moment.

Related posts:

1. O’ Christmas Tree…
2. O’ Christmas Tree, Part Deux
3. O’ Christmas Tree

On Friday or so I got that beginning of a tingle of a sore throat. I hate that so much. The anticipation of what’s to come makes me hate the world and stock up on cold medicine as if the apocalypse was upon us, though I don’t imagine cold medicine would help during an apocalypse, but you never know. I suppose if the apocalypse were brought on by inflamed membranes of some sort and snot monsters…

Anyballs, on Saturday came the aforementioned snot monsters with full force. The were having a party in my sinuses where it seemed that everyone was invited. I filled the keg with antihistamine. They laughed and had a raucous time anyway. Fuckers.

Today was the hacking and coughing. Ugh! It’s exhausting to cough so much. I can never tell which stage of a cold is the worst. It seems whichever stage I am enduring at any given moment is The Worst. The problem with the coughing and hacking is that I have a hard time telling if it is asthma-related or now. It’s also just plain harder to breathe at this stage. On top of that, I ran out of my asthma medication a couple of days ago so I’m suffering a bit more. *cries*

In other news…

I’m still loving my Kruck. It’s full of awesome! I’m not, however, fond of all of my tools frolicking around in the back of the truck, like kids in an inflatable bounce castle thing, whenever I turn a corner too quickly. Those tools need to behave or I’ll pull the Kruck over RIGHT NOW!

Ah, the threats of the car being pulled over… My cousin and I used to hear that a lot when we were kids. It was always such a lame threat. First, we knew they weren’t going to spank us, since this was never done. We knew they wouldn’t make us walk home, cause they’d worry we’d never make it home. We’d probably just walk to the Quik-E-Mart and play arcade games for hours on end (Remember arcade games? Pac-Man? Asteroids? Q-Bert? Dig Dug? C’mon!). Hell, usually the threat of forcing us to walk home was given when we were just blocks from the house. He and I already used to walking everywhere or riding our bikes. A ride in the car was simply a luxury to us. What’s funny to my cousin and me is that the threats of pulling the car over weren’t because we were arguing or misbehaving in some way, they were because he and I would get into giggle-fits and (Hmm, Giggle-Fits would be a good name for a cat) my asthma would act up. In an effort to prevent the asthma attack our moms would yell, “Stop that laughing!” to us in the back seat. There’s a moment in the movie Roger Rabbit that always reminds me of that. *snicker*

Related posts:

1. Cold
2. Laughing So Hard That The Asthma Attacked
3. Random Shit

Bart and I are only six months apart in age and we grew up spending weekends together for most of our lives. We’re almost like brothers but don’t argue near as much. Well, we did when we were kids, but not so much now… if at all. Probably because he’s finally learned that I’m always right.

When we were young he and I would get into giggle-fits. Giggle-fits so massive that it would garner chastising from our moms due to the impending asthma attack that the giggling would bring me. They’d scream, “Stop that laughing!” in much the same way as the characters from the Who Framed Roger Rabbit? movie.

This Saturday I was laughing so damn hard it hurt. And it was over something so stupid, which is usually how it is. He and I were creating macros for our characters to make them do stupid shit which amuses us (and more than likely annoys others). The one that brought about the fit-o’-the-giggle was an attempt to make our characters dance while saying a line from a particular song, in a cartoon-like bubble, that we both find so horrible that it’s funny. I’ve posted about the song before – “Buffalo Stance” by Neneh Cherry. Horrible. Simply horrible. But the video… oh, the video is hideously hilarious. Deliciously so.

I don’t even remember exactly what was so funny about it. It just was. And I was dying. *wheeze*cough*wheeze* I was already having asthmatic issues due to his cat, “Dixie,” but this made it worse. But it was worth it. I haven’t laughed that hard since we were young brats… well, since he was a young brat and I was more of a little angel.

Good times.

Related posts:

1. A Few Random Bits
2. Juno vs. Jumper
3. Hellbent

My dad would occasionally stop by the house for a few hours when I was little and I would always get excited, though I’m not sure why. He would often make promises to me that he would never follow through on. He once promised me that he and I would go tear down this building in town that he was asked to rip apart. He paid me in advance something like $20. I wanted to help him. I wanted to tear a building apart. He never showed up though.

Throughout the years of my childhood my dad was in and out of prison for… well, no one was quite sure what he was in for. My mom and I got different stories from people, depending on who was giving the story. I think they ranged from robbery, to auto theft, to rape – nothing to be proud of, that’s for certain.

For the last 20-plus years I hadn’t seen my dad. A few years ago my mom and I had heard he was being released from prison. He paid my mom a surprise visit, which didn’t really bother her, but she called me shortly thereafter to warn me that he may do the same to me. This concerned us both because she knew he wasn’t fond of The Gays, or at least not the prospect of his only son being gay. He didn’t know about me being gay. The concern was that if he showed up unannounced he would certainly figure it out when he saw my DVD collection, or the Advocate magazines lying around, etc.

We had also heard that my dad had lung cancer while he was still in prison. I don’t remember if we knew exactly how far along the cancer had progressed but he never got a chance to come see me.

When he visited my mom, I’m told that he stared at a picture of me for a long time. He held the frame and my mom sort of had to tug it from his hands. It was a picture in which, I’m told, I look a lot like my dad. In the photo I had a beard, which was always a sort of trademark for my dad, at least in our eyes. Dad always had a beard.

My dad died in 2004 from the lung cancer. He never made it to my apartment to see me. I had mixed feelings about this. He was a man whom I really didn’t know but he was also my father.

His piece of shit car was left to me after his death which I promptly sold to my friend Harley, who was in need of a car, regardless of its aesthetic appeal. In the process of me picking up the car I got to meet dad’s girlfriend. She was an emotional mess and rather annoying in that she and my half sister apparently got into numerous arguments over who would get what. I always had to hear the details of these arguments from my sis and it left me a sour taste in my mouth with regards to dad’s girlfriend.

His girlfriend told me, though, that dad had wanted to pay me a visit but was afraid. He was afraid I’d reject him or that I’d be angry with him. Both are partly likely. I don’t think I’d have rejected him, at least not outright. I probably wouldn’t have embraced him though. Over the years I had grown to resent him up to that point. I had only recently started to forgive the man as I felt that the resentment was doing me more harm than good. I was saddened, though, to hear that he actually had some feelings for me. Surprised as well.

During our childhood my half-sister would regularly get presents and gifts from our dad. I’d get nothing. Not a letter nor a present. Nothing. This is mostly where the resentment originated. Had he ignored her as much as he did me I probably wouldn’t have thought much about it. I would have thought he was just incapable of showing any affection toward his kids. This, though, seemed to indicate that he only cared about her. In his defense, he knew her better than he did me. She’s older than I am by something like seven years. He also didn’t run off when she was three months old, as far as I know.

At any rate, I still have some mixed feelings about my dad and wish that he was still around so that we could patch things up. In the end, I’ve just decided to believe that he did care about me but just didn’t know what to do about it after so many years of absenteeism.

Related posts:

1. My Dad
2. Accepting Non-Acceptance
3. This Weekend

1989

1. Love Shack – B-52’s
2. Funky Cold Medina – Tone Loc
3. Bust A Move – Young MC
4. Wind Beneath My Wings – Bette Midler
5. Like A Prayer – Madonna
6. Joy and Pain – Rob Base & D.J. E-Z Rock
7. Put A Little Love In Your Heart – Annie Lennox and Al Green
8. All I Want Is You – U2
9. Patience – Guns N Roses
10. The Best – Tina Turner
11. Paradise City – Guns N Roses
12. Keep On Movin’ – Soul II Soul
13. Wild Thing – Tone Loc
14. Every Little Step – Bobby Brown
15. I’ll Be There For You – Bon Jovi
16. Another Day In Paradise – Phil Collins
17. Love In An Elevator – Aerosmith
18. Kiss – Art of Noise featuring Tom Jones
19. She Drives Me Crazy – Fine Young Cannibals
20. Lay Your Hands On Me – Bon Jovi
21. Don’t Know Much – Linda Ronstadt & Aaron Neville
22. Smooth Criminal – Michael Jackson
23. After All – Cher and Peter Cetera
24. Express Yourself – Madonna
25. Eternal Flame – the Bangles
26. Buffalo Stance – Nenah Cherry (If I could cross that out twice, I totally would!)
27. Love Song – the Cure
28. Angel of Harlem – U2
29. So Alive – Love and Rockets
30. Back To Life – Soul II Soul
31. Listen To Her Heart – Roxette
32. Orinoco Flow (Sail Away) – Enya
33. I Feel The Earth Move – Martika
34. Get On Your Feet – Gloria Estefan
35. When I See You Smile – Bad English
36. Heaven Help Me – Deon Estus and George Michael
37. Baby, Don’t Forget My Number – Milli Vanilli (Yes, I’m ashamed of myself.)
38. Dr. Feelgood – Motley Crew
39. Heaven – Warrant
40. She Wants To Dance With Me – Rick Astley
41. Walk The Dinosaur – Was (Not Was)
42. Once Bitten Twice Shy – Great White
43. Me, Myself and I – De la Soul
44. I Won’t Back Down – Tom Petty (I hate Tom Petty so this just defaults to a strike.)
45. On Our Own – Bobby Brown
46. A Little Respect – Erasure (I loved Erasure!)
47. Miss You Like Crazy – Natalie Cole
48. 18 and Life – Skid Row
49. You Got It (The Right Stuff) – New Kids On The Block (SHUT UP!)
50. Me So Horny – 2 Live Crew
51. Stand – R.E.M.
52. Soldier Of Love – Donny Osmond
53. The Look – Roxette
54. Birthday Suit – Johnny Kemp
55. We Didn’t Start the Fire – Billy Joel
56. Hey Ladies – Beastie Boys
57. The Living Years – Mike and the Mechanics
58. Trouble Me – 10,000 Maniacs
59. Don’t Wanna To Lose You – Gloria Estefan
60. Closer To Fine – Indigo Girls
61. Forever Your Girl – Paula Abdul
62. My Fantasy – Teddy Riley Featuring Guy
63. Blame It On The Rain – Milli Vanilli (Stop judging me!)
64. End Of The Line – Traveling Wilburys
65. Two Hearts – Phil Collins
66. Anchorage – Michelle Shocked
67. Right Here Waiting – Richard Marx
68. Mayor Of Simpleton – XTC
69. Straight Up – Paula Abdul
70. Pop Song 89 – R.E.M.
71. I’ll Be Loving You (Forever) – New Kids On The Block
72. Now You’re In Heaven – Julian Lennon
73. My Prerogative – Bobby Brown
74. Dear God – Midge Ure
75. Hangin’ Tough – New Kids On The Block

Yes, I did more than 50. Why would I limit it to 50 when the list is only 75? What’s 25 more?

Related posts:

1. AB
2. Meme
3. A meme with a decent set of questions…

tony2btrue2self

In my earlier grade school years I recall having to go to a special math class every day. I think it was every day. I’d have to leave my regular class and walk down the hall to this really small room which had probably a third of the number of seats as a regular class. I don’t remember a whole lot about the class. I think I was in second grade or something. About the only thing I really remember is that we all used to fight over who got to sit where. No one had assigned seats and for some reason we all felt that this one particular desk was just the prime spot to sit in. I have no idea why.

In my later grade school career I had a special ed. reading class that I had to take. I guess I had trouble with either reading in general or with reading comprehension. I think I was in either fourth or fifth grade at the time.

It’s so funny that I forget this shit. You’d think it would be something embarrassing but, m’eh, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve overcome the problems, and I never had any problems in later years in school, aside from being way too lazy to do any schoolwork. That caused me to have Summer School one year, to have to repeat a few classes in High School, and then to repeat the 10th grade. Yeah, that stuff is somewhat embarrassing. But, I was just really lazy, and I procrastinated like Hell.

Oh, also, in first grade I had some sort of physical therapy that I had to go to on a regular basis. I guess when I was little my feet sort of turned inward… or perhaps it was outward. When I was even younger I had to wear a brace on my legs in bed to help straighten them out. In therapy I had to just do your normal therapy things: balancing, playing some games, etc.

See, what strikes me as odd is that, at the time, I thought nothing of having the special ed. classes or the therapy. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess to me it was just part of my regular everyday routine. It was never a blow to my self-esteem or anything.

Even more odd is that in high school I had this air of superiority over my other classmates. Somewhere between junior high and high school I suddenly felt I was more mature than anyone else. The stupid immature behavior that other kids would find amusing would just cause me to roll my eyes. I felt that everyone else was stupid. I didn’t belong. Maybe that was just my way of coping with feeling alone in high school. By sort of making myself feel like it was my choice that I was always alone. Or perhaps that is why I was always alone… cause I was an asshole.

But I’m still an asshole and people love me. Hmm…

And now I’m even more immature than the kids I went to school with. Funny how things come full circle. Huh?

Related posts:

1. Thoughts of Memories
2. Joe from Enumclaw High School… (Not a Musical)
3. An Open Letter…