Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Last Word (8 of 8)


Resolute (7 of 8)

I'm really not one to make "resolutions" at the beginning of each year. It's not that I'm not goal-oriented. I make lots of goals, but they're mostly short-term goals as I take life a day at a time. It's something I had to do to survive during the past seven years, and, you know, it's something that I've grown to love.

Let the future take care of itself, I say; I'll worry about the now.

Don't get me wrong, though, I'm not talking about the same attitude as the infamous grasshopper but along the lines of Christ's Sermon on the Mount:
33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.
34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

~Matthew 6

Of course, many of my Mormon friends and family would say I'm pretty much screwed with this attitude as the kingdom of God has no room for a gay man...

But, I view the kingdom of God a bit differently, and I do not seek after rank and status (dependent upon physiology). I do not believe such is the order of the kingdom of God.

I believe such the order of God is the order of Charity, and I merely seek after such, to be filled with the pure love of Christ. Accordingly, such is my resolution, which resolution is my life-long desire and commitment:

I resolve to find a greater sense of charity for all mankind, that I will be a relief, a refuge, and not a burden in the lives of those whose paths may cross with mine, that my life will positively impact any and all who even brush upon it.

Demain (6 of 8)

Although I'm still rather Mormon, there is one part of me that is far from: I no longer have ridiculously unrealistic expectations out of life.

Accordingly, my expectation of next year is simple. All I hope is that 2009 will bring further stability and preparation for my hoped future as a husband and father.

Maybe I'll try sushi and learn how to swim, too.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Happy Days (5 of 8)

In whole, 2008 was a good year, but my favorite part was my new-found ability to enjoy my siblings' families without resentment.

Regret (4 of 8)

My only regret in 2008 is that I neither got over nor progressed in my friendship with [him].

Revelation (3 of 8)

What I didn't want you to know about 2008... hmm... to be honest, I thought I could think of something, some deep, dark secret of 2008 that nobody knew about.

I really can't think of anything.

Sorry, maybe next year.

In Sum (2 of 8)

I think I'll entitle 2008, "The Year I Stitched the Damn Thing Up."

The year started out like a deep cut on my thigh which was making it difficult to walk. In previous years, I had tried to fix the cut with band-aids... but it was far too deep for band-aid aid. So, I took a deep breath and stitched it up at the end of the first quarter of 2008.

My mobility improved drastically almost over night, and the rest of the year was spent nursing the healing wound and working on being able to walk around normally. And although there are still some impairments in my mobility and some healing to go, things are looking really good for a full recovery.

Hopefully, there won't be too much of a scar, if any.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Preppy (1 of 8)

I don't know if it's because it's my obsessive-compulsiveness, eccentricity, or both talking, but I decided I would write eight more posts this year -- that way I would have 208 posts in 2008.

As such this season calls for corny and cliché, the topics of each post are as follows:
  1. Explanation of these last 8 posts of 2008
  2. Summary of my 2008
  3. What I didn't want you to know about 2008
  4. My one regret in 2008
  5. My favorite moment of 2008
  6. Summary of what I hope for 2009
  7. My New Year's Resolution for 2009
  8. My last words [of 2008]
Don't worry, though, if you're expecting posts of considerable length. This will probably be the longest post of the eight.

Two Cents

This thus marks my 200th greenly chalked blog post.

As my 200th post, I feel I should post something fabulous, fantastic, incredible, brilliant, stunning.


But I already posted my picture.


So, I guess I'll just stick with, "Happy 200th, greenly chalked!"

Out Damn'd Spot

Good news everybody: I think I've found a great match in the Ballroom partnering arena.

We are practically perfect, height-wise.

Her favorite dances are of the Rumba, Tango, Paso Doble variety. My favorite dances are of the Rumba, Tango, Paso Doble variety.

She needs a partner who is familiar with International Latin (as she isn't). I am most familiar with International Latin.

She needs a partner who isn't going to take the passion of the dance personally. I need a partner who isn't going to take the passion of the dance personally.

Excellent partnering, yes?

The last match is actually how we met. She was discussing such a need with a mutual friend of ours. She mentioned that her mom had told her to find a gay Ballroom partner. Mutual friend immediately thought of me! The referral was made, we met last Saturday, and the rest is future--yet to be seen, but a positive future, me-thinks.

It gets even better: I get to co-teach and choreograph for a small team. Sha. Zam.

... and it's all because I'm openly gay...

Life. Is. Good.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Brushed Teeth

I have already brushed my teeth, but a 3 Musketeer bar is sitting on my desk right now, taunting me.

But I shall not succumb!

Eh, I'll just brush my teeth again.


... gets my recommendation.

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Awaken, Ye O' Weary Eyes

I fell asleep around midnight last night. This was a major accomplishment for me, as I have been usually falling asleep around 8 AM. I was so tired, I even slept through a text message alert -- I am usually such a light sleeper, almost anything will wake me up.

The only problem is that I slept 'till 3:30PM today. What's up with that?! Now, it's 3 AM and I'm not sleeping. I was en route to a better schedule, and my body said, "Denied!"

I do have a meeting with a potential ballroom partner tomorrow morning -- well, afternoon, but I have to get some things taken care of before I meet her. (The last potential lived too far away; I couldn't afford the gas.) So, I don't have a reason to sleep in 'till 3 PM today.

I will get on a non-vampire schedule if it kills me! Which it may. If it does, I want to be buried in a glow-in-the-dark coffin.

So let it be written, so let it be done.

Friday, December 26, 2008


This morning I was so trapped.


I couldn't get out of my parking cave.

Surprisingly, it wasn't because of the snow. Rather, a car was parked in the parking spot across the road. What's the big deal? You may wonder. Well, my parking cave is tight, and the road is more of an alley than a road. When I back out, I have to back out into the driveway behind me and then turn into the alley.

Since I didn't have to go anywhere specific--I was just going to go get something to eat--I didn't worry about finding out who the driver was to have him/her move around a little bit so's I could escape.

Hopefully it's not there again. I really want orange juice.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Ho, ho... eh

Well, it's Christmas Eve... to be honest, I haven't felt very Christmas-y.

To be honest, I haven't felt very Christmas-y since high school -- before my days of deep depression.

This is actually the first year since high school that I haven't spent this time of year praying for death.

No, I take that back. 2005 was a good year when felt rather Christmas-y. I even baked three (four?) Bûches de Noël (one of them lactose free) for some of my friends and family. I even made mushrooms and flowers out of marzipan... mmmmmm, marzipan...

Anyway, I'm digressing -- me, digress? ... never... -- it's not that I'm full of "humbug" or anything. It just doesn't feel like Christmas this year. Maybe things will change as today and tomorrow progress...

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

[Working Title]

I started to write a couple novels (that one's for you, JJ), and although I really don't have the intention of trying to get them published, I must admit I'm kind of wanting to write for an actual audience, instead of just for myself.

So, if you may be interested in sampling a nibble of my fictional prose, shoot me an email (, and I'll send you the first chapter of one of my novels.

It's a fantasy novel based on one of the many stories I created when I was a kid. Basically, this novel is my adult imagination creating the background for one of the creations of my youth's imagination. There are at least three books planned, the third being the actual storyline I enacted throughout my childhood in the basement of the house where I grew up.

The target age group is actually the same as the Harry Potter series -- which, I know falls beyond the scope of readers here, age-wise... but as far as 'enjoyment-wise' goes, I think I'm safe in offering this exclusive offer to any readers of my blog/facebook notes.

I only have the first chapter written. It's a short chapter -- only six pages, ~1100 words -- and there are still some rough parts, but really I'm just looking to see if there's a reason for me to 1) Polish it up, and 2) Keep on writing.

I mean, it's already in my head basically, and I've played through the somewhat distant sequel hours upon hours in the past... so I'm personally not missing much if I don't write it down.

And, although, like I said, I'm not looking to get published, I'd definitely enjoy (love, even?) to write for a small audience.

So, please, do let me know!

The difference an accent makes

I just reread the title of my last post. Before I fixed it, it read: "Le petit pécheur."

It now reads, as it should, "Le petit pêcheur."

The difference made by those little marks above the e: le petit pécheur = the little sinner; le petit pêcheur = the little fisherman.

... hah & sigh... as I said, I really need to get back on the path to fluency in French.

Le petit pêcheur

Explanation: I've been rummaging through my old files and found one of my first writing assignments for my first college-level French class (French 202 Honors at BYU). To completely brag, my teacher loved it so much that she gave me 100% and kept a copy for reference.

I really need to get back to where I was close to fluency in French:

Il était une fois un petit homme qui habitait dans une petite cabane. Ce petit homme a construit cette petite cabane sur une petite montagne et près d’un petit lac. Chaque jour il sortait de sa petite cabane et il pêchait dans le petit lac. Chaque jour il attrapait un petit poisson et il disait au petit poisson, “Vous semblez triste, mon bon poisson. N’aimez-vous pas habiter dans ce petit lac? Bien sûr, ce doit être une vie difficile, la vie d’un petit poisson dans un petit lac! Je vous dis ceci: puisque je suis un bon homme, je vous renverrai à un grand lac, un grand lac dans le ciel.” Et chaque jour le petit homme mangeait un petit poisson.

Un jour quand le petit homme est sorti de sa petite cabane, une grosse goutte de pluie a éclaboussé sa petite tête chauve. Il a regardé le ciel et il a vu de grands nuages bleus. Ils encerclaient le soleil et remplissaient le ciel. Une autre grosse goutte de pluie a éclaboussé son petit nez rouge. Essuyant sa tête avec un petit mouchoir, le petit homme a regardé le lac. De grosses gouttes de pluie faisaient onduler l’eau claire. Un grand poisson a émergé du centre d’un des cercles formés par une goutte et il a dit au petit homme, “Vous semblez triste mon bonhomme! N’aimez-vous pas habiter dans la petite cabane? Bien sûr, ce doit être une vie difficile, la vie d’un petit pêcheur dans une petite cabane.” Avant que le poisson ait fini de parler, une grande goutte de pluie est tombée du ciel et a rempli le petit lac jusqu’à ce que le petit lac soit devenu un grand lac. Le grand lac avait faim, et alors, il a avalé la petite montagne où habitait le petit pêcheur.

Le petit homme a essayé de nager vers la surface mais le grand poisson pouvait nager plus rapidement. Le grand poisson avait aussi faim que le grand lac, donc il a englouti le petit pêcheur. Maintenant, le petit homme habitait dans un grand poisson.

“C’est une bonne maison!” a dit le petit homme à un os d’un poisson qui flottait près de sa jambe, “Mais vous, mon bon os, vous semblez triste.”

La vie bohème

There are times when I know exactly where I am going in life. There are times where I have no clue where I'm heading--let alone where I am. There are times when I couldn't care less where I'm going.

Right now... well, I am in the middle of a torrent of all three of the above 'times.'

It's like I'm sitting in the airport, knowing I'm going to be leaving but not knowing exactly where. Furthermore, I don't have any money to buy a ticket but know I'm going to be able to afford it somehow--though, again, how, I do not know. All-the-while, I could just as happily be sitting in a parking lot.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Santa Claus

Santa Claus.

A lie we seem to love.

But why? Why aren't kids outraged when they find out they've been purposefully lied to--by those whom they should be able to trust the most? And, why in the world, do kids grow up to pass on this tradition of lying?!

Personally, I think the answer is quite simple: it's fun, and the memories of Santa are--for the most part--good, happy, nostalgic, etc.

The lie instigated good times. The lie was meant to instigate good times. Good times are... well... good.

Perhaps you can see where I'm headed with this: Religion & God. After all, does not the often accompanying word "Gospel" literally mean "Good News" ? That is, is not the intent of religion to instigate good times?

Whoa!! Wait a minute... Am I inferring that religion, God, etc. are lies?!?

No. I'm saying they could be. They could very well be another instance of this Santa Claus business.

Don't get me wrong. I believe in God. I really do. But, at the same time, I understand I could very well be like the naive little kid who believes in Santa Claus.

You know what, though, it's something that helps me (and many) have a good time here in life.

For example, my friend's mom passed away the other day. My friend's belief in God and the afterlife have been major components in helping her deal with the emotions associated with such a difficult time.

It's also kind of nice, during the really good times, to think that someone "up there" is looking out for you. I enjoy smiling and thanking God for even just a simply good day.

So, anyway, why isn't the possibility of religion as fun as and as good as the possibility of Santa Claus?

(A question I wish some religious leaders would ask themselves.)

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Cheese, Gromit

My tooth just broke... not majorly, just a small chip off of one corner.

Thank you, British genes.

Hey Nonny Nonny

I wasn't going to say anything, but after one confessed outbreak of straightitis ... well, I think I need to make my own.

I honestly don't know what it is, but I have been feeling rather straight lately--and by straight, I don't mean I'd rather watch Basketball than a comédie musicale. I mean sex with a woman has crossed my mind... more than once.

Indeed, I have been finding myself seeing a beautiful young woman and thinking, "You know, I think I could hit that."

Quite honestly, I've been taken back by these recent impure heterosexual thoughts.

But, to be honest, they're more feelings of curiosity than anything else. It's mostly me wondering what it would be like to have sex with a woman: Would I be able to please her? Would I be able to enjoy it?

... and, in being honest, I have to admit that if sex weren't attached to love in my philosophy of life, I would probably go out and experiment...

Hah, I was just reminded of something I said to a friend in highschool--back when I completely believed I was straight. It was something like, "If I did fall into temptation, I wouldn't use protection... I'd want a kid out of it." (What I really meant was, "I have no desire to have sex with a woman... but to be a dad, absolutely!")

And that just reminded me of when I was in junior high (basically unaware that "gay" even existed). I was sitting on the kitchen table, talking with my mom and a few of my siblings about a story of an extremely young girl getting pregnant--by a boy her age. I was thoroughly perplexed and asked my mom, "Sex is just for making babies, so why would kids have sex?"

My mom blushed and said, "Well, it's not just for making babies... it feels good, too."

If the expression on my face matched what I was thinking (something akin to "there is no way that could be enjoyable"), my mom should've had a clue as to my orientation.

It was around that era that I learned what homosexual sex was. I was watching the Late Show with David Letterman with one of my brothers (no, my parents wouldn't let us watch it, we were watching w/o their knowledge). Anyway, something about gays came up and my brother said something like, "You know what they call gays, don't you? Shitdicks." And he explained why... if the expression on my face matched what I was thinking (something akin to "... men can have sex with men... hmm..."), my brother should've had a clue as to my orientation.

Of course, it wasn't anything like my thoughts when I found out men can fall in love with men. Those thoughts were something akin to, "What the hell!?! You LIED to me!!"

Anyway, I have digressed into talking about gay things... harumph... I wanted this post to be straight. damn

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Amazing Grace

I spent the day at the hospital with my twin-sister-from-another-mister. Her mom is in bad shape... and by 'bad shape' I mean it's down to the question of "pulling-the-plug" or not.

Life can be really tough sometimes.

I hope my being there helped make things a little lighter for her and her family.

In other news: I have yet to meet a legitimate song entitled "Gravity" that I naught but love; however, I quite dislike every version of "Amazing Grace" that I've heard... except one (which I love).

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Dear Adobe,

Your new Text Layout framework just saved me oodles of headache-time.

Thank you.

No, really: Thank you!

Andrew Martin Pankratz

Monday, December 15, 2008

S'mores & Aardvarks

S'mores and aardvarks... two things that wouldn't ordinarily go together--I'm picturing an aardvark eeating [sic] s'mores, not someone eating both an aardvark and s'mores at the same time [sick].

Truth be told, I don't think aardvarks would like s'mores. Well, maybe Arthur and his family. But they're mutants.


I think that describes me, yes?

You know what I realized: it's been ages since I've had a scab or a blister. You know what that means? My life is too cushy. I need to go and scrape my knee.

I miss living on a crop farm. I miss it oh-so-very much. Whenever I was sad, frustrated, annoyed, confused, or even just really happy, I would go out to the fields, sit on a wheel line, and meditate.

In fact, I wish I were there right now. In my insomnia, I would be out there, sitting on a wheel line, looking up at the sky, watching the stars, and just absorbing the dark silence. I haven't sat and watched stars in a very, very long time. I miss it.

You know, some people say that looking at the stars makes them feel insignificant. Me, I feel quite the opposite. Well, maybe not in a 'significance' sort of way. I mean, I wish I were really making a difference somehow, but I'm probably not.

But I do feel unique -- and in that uniqueness, special.

I like that I'm not exactly like anyone else. I like that I can be somewhat unpredictable. I like that I am eccentric. I like that I'm eclectic. I would like it if I'm 'ec' anything else.

I like me.

Awww... tender moment... uh... with myself... ~ahem~

On that note: I want to learn Flamenco.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Friday, December 12, 2008

Designing Women...

... is on at 4AM MST on TV Land.

You wanna know how I know? 'Cause I can't sleep.

Really. I cannot sleep.

My body has grown too accustomed to Triazolam. To be honest, it's tough not to feel bitter and angry, here at 4AM MST, unable to sleep.

I wouldn't be in this predicament if the LDS Church treated gays humanely. It was my following the counsels of the LDS Church that I started taking Triazolam--for three [insert favorite swear word in adjective form here] years... not healthy.

I'm tired. I'm grumpy. To be honest, I sort of feel like throwing a rock through a window of the LDS Church office building (which is but a hop, skip, and a jump from where I live). I know this is just because I'm tired and grumpy right now, and I would never throw... okay, so I've been known to throw rocks through windows--but not on purpose!

Many moons ago, I was outside playing, and I saw a sparrow perched on the roof of my house. I thought to myself, "I am going to throw a rock and hit that sparrow."

Yeah, yeah, I know: DON'T DO IT, YOU FOOL!!!

I mean, best case scenario in my mind: I kill a bird... which I wouldn't eat or use in any sort of "your death was not in vain" sort of way. I would have been so cool.

Anyway, fool that I was, I threw the rock. It was headed straight for the bird... right towards it, I promise... then it started to curve... it was a fantastic curve--which curve lead straight to the middle of the side-door window of my parents' minivan.

Long story short: it took a while for my parents to find me.

Mad About You comes on after Designing Women. When I was maybe 12, 13 years-old, I watched an episode of Mad About You. In this episode, the principle male character, Paul, was having his fertility tested... I was utterly confused. I had absolutely no idea how a guy could ejaculate outside of heterosexual, penis-in-vagina copulation.

Seriously, I had no clue.

This is my memory of Mad About You.

Anyway, I'm going to try once again to fall asleep... wish me luck (but not too loudly) !

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Est-ce que tu m'entends ?

Oops, in deleting some drafts, I deleted my last post. Good thing it wasn't a superb post.

I do want to repeat the ending sentiment, though.

If there is one thing I wish those opposed to gay marriage would sit down and sincerely and meekly consider, it would be this: Is it truly best that an orphan be denied opportunities of permanent, loving, caring, and safe homes just because these homes are created by homosexual couples? Is this truly the most merciful and compassionate option for the world's homeless children?

Imagine the good that could be done! Imagine what would happen if we started to encourage gay couples to get married and adopt children. (Note: I said encourage not shame or guilt... I don't think anyone who doesn't want to raise children should raise children--anyone.) Imagine how many homes would open up. Imagine how many children would finally have a family--which children may never have had the chance otherwise.

Unfortunately, what flashes through many people's minds is some depraved world where morals are passé and lust pours down the streets.

I really don't understand this. I mean, even if you believe that the ideal family is composed of a man, his wife, and their children, a man, his husband, and their children or a woman, her wife, and their children is better than no family at all... right?

Even if this means, "More people will live open homosexual lives," it would also, therefore, mean, "More homes would open up for children who need homes."

And, you know know what: sure, people will start to think that it's okay to get married to someone of the same sex and create a family with him/her... is that truly not okay? Me, I think it's not just okay, it's fabulous!

To Latter-day Saints, it does get a little trickier. According to their doctrine, these families couldn't be eternal. But, again, a temporal family is better than no family in this mortal life at all... right?

tangent thought
Now, of course, not all gay couples who will have children are going to adopt.

I'll be completely honest, I'm rather opposed to creating biological children when biological children cannot be created by the couple, itself.

Don't get me wrong, though; I'd never fight against people who do this. I'd never think less of anyone who uses surrogacy. I'd never try to stop anyone from doing this--
ever. And I would completely share the joy of my friends who create biological children via surrogation [sic].

tangent thought ii
Sure, there will be some people who marry those of the same sex, even though they aren't gay--for benefits or visas or what-not. It'll happen. I am sure of it--I have no doubt... because heterosexual marriage is used for such purposes all the time.

But to deny something that could be used for a great purpose--creating homes for the homeless--just because a small percentage will abuse it... well, it's ludicrous.

tangent thought iii
Some may say that adopting a child to a gay couple robs that child of the possibility to be adopted by a straight couple. Perhaps it does... but is this not a risk we should be willing to take (again, I'm working within the framework that an ideal family is man+woman+kids)? After all, it's not like that's the only child a straight couple could adopt (there are far too many children who need homes).

I would parallel such with a woman who vitally needs a kidney transplant. (I don't know if it's true or not, but let's at least pretend that an ideal kidney is a kidney from a close relative.) She has an identical twin sister... but they had a falling-out many years ago, and she doesn't know where her sister is or how to find out (or even if her sister would donate a kidney even if there was a reunion).

After a few weeks of searching with no luck, a possible kidney donor is found. It wouldn't be ideal, but it would probably be sufficient. Should this woman take the non-ideal possibility or should she deny it (the donation could go to another) until she finds her twin sister?

Thursday, December 4, 2008


I have been having a horrible time in the sleeping department lately.


In other news, I could really go for a hearty sandwich right now ... or even just some really good bread and cheese.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Moho Uniform

Well, I thought I would post a pic of me in the "Moho Uniform" -- I hope it's okay that my tie isn't 100% green...

Tough to believe that hottie has yet to be kissed, eh?

Monday, December 1, 2008

Dear [Him],

Truth is, you're there whenever I close my eyes. Your coy smile, your deep eyes... the way you blush... it all makes it difficult to sleep. Truth is, I don't want to sleep. I mean, why would I need sleep-drawn dreams if you're there whenever I close my eyes?

I know, I know: how cliché, how corny, how gushy. But in this romantic triteness I find novelty. I honestly thought these feelings were all make-believe, only to be found in romantic comedies and the sort. Then I met you, and they all started pouring in.

I get butterflies in my stomach whenever I know I'm about to see you again. My knees weaken when I see you from afar. Whenever you walk into a room unexpectedly, I can't help but smile.

And when you inadvertently smile whenever I unexpectedly walk into a room, when I catch you in the corner of my eye as you watch me and blush... well, it ruins me. It gives me hope that you feel the same way as I feel about you. Then, all of the sudden, it's not just you, but you and I whenever I close my eyes.

Don't get me wrong, though: I'm not naïf. I know it's just a dream. I know it may never be, you and I. I know it probably will never be you and I--even if you do feel the same as I. There are just too many variables.

Still, I cherish the dream, and I take comfort in knowing:
We’ll always have the dream
Where alone we’ll walk
The faded streets
Of slow, pre-waking bliss
And alone we’ll talk
In faded words
Alone we’ll share a kiss
Just you and I
But only in the dream