The Dark Side

... the weather in Utah's been crazy, eh?...

I'm running out of things to blog about.

There's really not much more to say about the Church. It's all been said.

My life is merely a dull mass of paperwork and textbook-writing right now. Nothing too exciting.

Or exciting at all.

...

Maybe something spectacular will happen tomorrow.

The World of Void: Prologue, Part I

Erik lay staring at the moonless sky. Brief pauses of stars reflected his tear-stained cheeks. As the darkness of night began to fade, Erik’s emptiness bled more frigidly. His rest was cold, and, again, the waking sun refused to offer its warmth.

Hazes of sunlight groped through the window and crawled onto a painting of Erik as a child standing with his parents. His mother’s loving voice welcomed the sun-touch and warmed from the past, “One day, Erik, my prince, all that is before you will be yours to rule.”

“... it’s just an empty field...” Erik whispered in confusion and disappointment.

Erik’s father laid his hand on the young prince’s shoulder and smiled reverently, “That, my son, is so you can fill it with whatever you desire.”

Pensively, Erik stood looking out over his would-be kingdom. Châteaux of elegance sprouted and filled the emptiness of the field. Poised peoples warmed the streets with their kindly glows. Then vapidly, like a def fog, a feral-grinned man seeped from the distant fade. Erik’s eyes shot fear, and his would-be kingdom returned to the void.

Uncertainty wove itself freely into Erik’s thoughts. He felt a heavy shawl of responsibility wrapping around his heart in an almost asphyxiating grip.

The Queen, perceiving Erik’s uncertainty, knelt by her son, kissed his forehead, and comforted as only she could, “You’re still a very young Prince. You will grow and learn, and one day you’ll be ready to be the great King you are destined to become. Until then, worry about growing and learning...”

Echoing from what seemed a thousand years ago came the voice of a young girl squealing, “Erik! I found a frog!”

With a godly sparkle in her eye, the Queen continued, “... and having fun.”

Erik hugged his mother and hurriedly rushed off teasing, “I dare you to kiss it!”

“Ew...” Kathryn called back, “what if it turned into a prince?” Her giggles faded with the thriving sunlight – as did young Erik’s defensive, “Hey! What’s wrong with being a prince!?”


Erik’s now manly visage held a drought-ed smile of memories long before drank. His tears, mostly dry now, contrasted his smile. He had grown. He had learned. He had played. He was now ready to face the test to become King, despite the feelings of foreshadowed uncertainty that drew his sorrow.

One last tear crawled onto Erik’s face as Kathryn, now a very much beautiful young woman, knocked humbly upon Erik’s door. The door opened and sunlight beamed off of Kathryn’s brilliant, jade-green eyes. Her unmistakable smile was soon the only thing one could discern in a room of weighty thoughts.

“Are you ready?” asked Kathryn. Her voice held a subtle implication that Erik had forgotten something.

Erik quickly wiped any traces of tears from his face and returned Kathryn’s smile, oblivious to her hinting, “I guess I’m as ready as ever.” Already dressed in his ceremonial garb, he slid off his bed, adjusted the main-gauche hanging at his side, and began walking down the hall, Kathryn by his side. Although no words were spoken as they mused toward the Council Room, a deep cloud of solemn adoration perfumed each of their steps.

Soon, they stood before the great ornamental doors of the Council Room. With a trembling hand, Erik traced one of the intricate wooden carvings marking the entryway. Afore pushing the doors open, he paused and coyly whispered to Kathryn, “Don’t kiss any frogs while I’m away.” Kathryn blushed, her smile returning tenfold.

Second Draft

[maybe I should keep it curt and blunt?]

Dear Bishop,

I apologize for how long it's taken me to get back to you. I've taken a lot of time to prayerfully consider my request to serve a mission. After meeting with you and hearing your trepidation in endorsing me as a missionary because I'm gay (even though I've never even held hands with a guy), because I support gay marriage, and because I plan on taking care of my physical health in the least caustic way possible, I have decided that I do not feel safe putting myself under the complete care of those who are not completely concerned for my personal well-being. Such, I feel, would be irresponsible of me, and I know I would not be successful; therefore, I withdraw my request.

Although I would like to nevertheless return to church, I also feel it would be irresponsible for me to do so at this time as I feel the relationship between the Church and its gay members is emotionally abusive. I had forgotten the degree until I spoke with you earlier this year.

Now, I'm not resigning from the Church; however, I am requesting that the Church not contact me as I take more time to re-evaluate what is best for me, my health (emotional, physical, spiritual, et al), my happiness, and my productivity in life.

Sincerely,

Andrew M. Pankratz

Lest I Wine

Ever had a night where you go to bed feeling just a little icky, hoping that a good sleep will make you feel all better only to wake up feeling a hundred times worse?

To make everything worse, you're supposed to be somewhere in two hours [from when you wake up], and you're thinking, "Do I tough it out... or do I go back to sleep and forget the whole thing?"

Then tiny robots crash through the window and demand a sample of your DNA because they want to clone you for their zoos on planet Truliaonaxx, and you're all like, "I'd love to help, guys, but I think I have strep; is that going screw stuff up?"

And they're all "Does not compute."

And you're all, "What doesn't compute?"

And they all start dancing the Samba, and you try to tell them their technique is a little off, but the swamp water gets in the way...

... and you realize you may want to take something for the fever, 'cause if you become any more insane, you may not be able to pull off sane in the real world for much longer -- and such has been tough enough as it is without the feverish thoughts.

Quoth the Raven

Life isn't easy. You have to buy her dinner first... and then she screws you.

~Andrew M. Pankratz

No, things are not bad for me right now. I was just reading over a few quote from Einstein, and I thought, "If ever my name is found in a book of quotes, I would like it to be for [the above]."

A few contenders:

Don't touch the green ones.

Having five fingers on one hand isn't vital to salvation. Toes, on the other hand... well, who would want toes on one's hand?

I am not schizophrenic or paranoid, so please tell the gremlins to stop telling everyone I am.

Clouds are God's way of covering up his privates. His lieutenants usually stay out of the sky.

A rose is a rose is a rose

Okay, so I totally stole the last one.

But it was done out of admiration for Gertrude Stein and her style of writing.

Amen.

Loan

The Small Business Administration does not offer loans to non-profits.

I actually think I knew that.

We'll be going for some grants, though (the vice-president wanted to try to get a loan for security purposes).

... sigh... I hate dealing with money...

French Toast

"Breakfast for dinner!?!" She cackled.

An arrow snassed through her gullet.

The cackling stopped but the breakfast was still warm.

"Let us eat, the pageantry of tomorrow is but begun, raise your glasses!"

"NO! The windmills!" General Strocho shouldered.

"Pancakes serve no windmills, swine! Draw your flaps!"

The flaps were drawn.

There was no syrup that night.

Here I Go

Well, I am applying for a loan tomorrow to be able to pay for the start up costs of my dance academy.

I have some excellent people on board, so I'm optimistic about the loan being approved.

But any prayers/well-wishing/karma-cash-in wouldn't hurt.

... that's assuming I have a positive karma count...

Unfortunately, I lost my pin number and can't check the balance before the new on arrives.

Sneezing Nauseously

Sometimes, when it's been a while since I've eaten anything, I start to feel extremely nauseous, but when that degree of nausea hits where one usually vomits, I sneeze.

Don't get me wrong though, I'm not complaining. I HATE throwing up and rather enjoy sneezing, so it's an ironically pleasing end to a nauseous feeling.

I have candy in my car

Starvation

zo s, jimhstu niy zo fpm
y lmpe ejsy zo esmy yp rsy

... uh... not on home row...

No Sweat

It's wonderful.

It's marvelous.

I just danced for three-point-five hours, and I didn't even have pit stains.

Do you know how incredible this is?!

Those of you who witnessed me dance at BYU do. At BYU, I would drown -- DROWN -- in sweat. Not a single dry spot could be found on my clothes; it was as though I had jumped into a swimming pool.

It was sexy, I tell you what.

Me-thinks I had my antidepressants to blame (I was taking a pretty darn high dosage). I'm no longer on any antidepressants -- hooray for me! -- and my pores no longer weep at the grace, the style, the beauty, the passion that is my dancing.

It's a little ironic, if you think about it.

Rough Draft

Dear Bishop,

I apologize for how long it has taken me to contact you since our last meeting. Time was taken to gather my thoughts as I did not want my words to come across as offensive. If they do so, I sincerely apologize – such definitely is not my intent or the emotion behind what I am writing.

That being said, after having met with you, I realized that it was not yet time for me to return to church. I know it is almost impossible for you to understand, but it is not a safe or healthy atmosphere, being told and expected to struggle with who I am.

I am gay. I do not “struggle with same-sex attraction.” I do not “struggle with same-gender attraction.” I am gay. I fall in love with men. My most compatible spouse and parenting partner is male.

Trying to force upon me the false perception of challenge, temptation, burden, etc. by trying to invoke guilt or shame; inferring that such is what God expects; emphasizing possible excommunication; invalidating my feelings and sense of self-worth; or advising or counseling with the implication that you know better than I is emotionally abusive. While I understand that you and the Church are not purposefully acting in an abusive manner, the atmosphere is nonetheless abusive, and such is augmented significantly when my willingness to live a celibate life is still deemed not good enough to be a member of equal standing to any other member.

For example, in order for me to be fully trusted as a representative of the Church (as would any other member), I must revert back to a lower sense of self-worth, believing myself to be flawed and handicapped in a way I simply am not. I must hide an integral part of who I am, which part has substantially influenced my strong relationship with God.

I am confident in who I am, in my relationship with God, and in understanding how valuable I am to God and His children. I will no longer surround myself with advisors or churches who would ignorantly tear this down. If my sense of self-worth and relationship with God is not appropriate for the Church, then the Church must resolve such within herself if she truly wants me to return to her pews.

The Church was made for humankind, not humankind for the Church. The Gospel was made for humankind, not humankind for the Gospel. I will not confirm to or obey the doctrines, claims, and teachings of any church or gospel that would make me – or anyone else – less of a human being.

Sincerely,

Andrew Pankratz

Eight Eighteen

and all is well.

He held his hand steadily on the tree limb and mumbled, "Georgia." Although he wasn't crying, there were still tears. Tears of exile. They were green like unicorns who had eaten too many french fries.

All is not well, not for the rainbow interrupted by his howling. A puddle of grass and lily-corn, blue like half of a sticker scraped from the bottom of a star, stared at it all in amazed-confusion. The confusion was magenta and it rained upwards like the holocaust.

"Georgia," he mumbled again, this time more turquoisely. He would let go of the tree limb. It was a light bulb, burnt out and glowing. It pricked him. The blood wasn't a pillow.

Eight Twenty.

...

I need pizza.

Dreams, Past & Present

Last night was cracked with nightmares of me sitting in church meetings and being mocked by the LDS Church's priesthood leaders -- I believe Elder Oaks was one the main one. Of specific note was how crude and juvenile their ridicule was.

It is not uncommon for me to dream of General Authorities having direct conversations with me.

One of my most memorable dreams "starring" General Authorities was set in the house where I grew up. (I should mention that such, without any doubts in my mind, is representative of heaven -- if dreams hold any meaning, that is.) I was standing in the dining room area surrounded by my parents and several General Authorities.

The General Authorities were basically pointing their fingers and condemning me -- the exact feeling of the dream was that their words were condemning me. I ended up going into the basement bathroom and killing myself.

As the General Authorities and my parents were standing over my body, I was resurrected as two men whole in one, and those watching (the General Authorities and my parents) were confounded.

This dream came during the time when I wanted to do what the Church would have me do but was unsure and praying for answers.

Anyway, I can have some crazy dreams sometimes.

The End.

HBO and Mormons

Apparently, HBO is going to air some of the LDS temple ceremony on their show Big Love.

Before I say what I'm going to say, I want to make sure you don't get me wrong. I strongly disagree with HBO's choice. I think it is deplorable to defile something that someone else holds sacred.

That being said... what do members of the LDS Church expect? I mean, the LDS Church constantly defiles the sacredness of, among other things, families headed by gay couples.

How can the LDS Church expect to be respected when she shows very little respect to other beliefs?

Now, I do not believe in the tit for tat, but I do believe in Karma -- and, frankly, the Church is reaping what she has sowed (if you'll forgive the rather cliché idiom).

This would not be happening if she acted respectfully to those who do not share her beliefs. This would not be happening if she weren't constantly declaring many non-LDS beliefs as "amoral," "lawless," etc.

Once again, I don't agree with HBO's choice; however, my disapproval goes equally for the LDS Church's parallel actions.

They Doubt...

I have some friends who don't believe I'm gay.

All I can say is that I just spent the afternoon in my bed, watching Sex and the City, and eating dried pineapple coated in sugar.

And Scene; Confessionals

Something interesting is happening, me-thinks, in regards to [Him]. Although [Him] was a major theme of my dreams last night, I think I'm getting over him.

In fact, I think I'm nearly over him completely. I've hit the point where I don't need to fall for straight guys anymore. I don't need that safety net where I know the love won't be reciprocated. I can now allow myself to fall for someone who can fall for me.


I realized the other day that there is one reason why I would want to be straight: I like buying jewelry. Jewelry for women. I don't like wearing it, and I really don't like such jewelry on a man. If I were to marry a woman, then I could buy her jewelry all the time.

I couldn't do this for a guy.

Sigh.

... what to do...

Red, Black?

My dreams were drowning with [Him] last night.

My sleep paralysis also paid me a few visits last night, too.

Sometimes it's literally insane to be me.

Out There

Frollo:
The world is cruel
The world is wicked
It's I alone whom you can trust in this whole city
I am your only friend
I who keep you, teach you, feed you, dress you
I who look upon you without fear
How can I protect you, boy, unless you
Always stay in here
Away in here
Remember what I taught you, Quasimodo
You are deformed

Quasimodo:
I am deformed

Frollo:
And you are ugly

Quasimodo:
And I am ugly

Frollo:
And these are crimes
For which the world
Shows little pity
You do not comprehend

Quasimodo:
You are my one defender

Frollo:
Out there they'll revile you
As a monster

Quasimodo:
I am a monster

Frollo:
Out there they will hate
And scorn and jeer

Quasimodo:
Only a monster

Frollo:
Why invite their calumny
And consternation?
Stay in here
Be faithful to me

Quasimodo:
I'm faithful

Frollo:
Grateful to me

Quasimodo:
I'm grateful

Frollo:
Do as I say
Obey
And stay
In here

Quasimodo:
I'll stay
In here

Every time I listen to [slash] watch this song ("Out There") from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame, I am haunted.

How often have I heard this from my church, from my friends, from my family?

And how often have I thought:

Ev'ry day they shout and scold and go about their lives
Heedless of the gift it is to be them
If I [were] in their skin
I'd treasure ev'ry instant

Out there

*sigh* I'm still sulky

I need something to un-sulk.

OH, I ate sugar-free cookies! (Sorry, I just realized why I am... well... those of you familiar with sugar-free can probably guess.)

In related news: I'm hungry.

Off to the kitchen!

Quant à moi qui en ai marre

I guess it's less that I need a break from blogging and more that I can't blog about what's going on in my life right now.

The really good thing that's happening, the business I'm starting up, I don't want to go into any details. I don't want people searching for my business to find this blog -- it's risky enough with me having my real name posted. Unfortunately, thanks to beautiful people like Buttars, the reputation of any homosexual has been slandered -- and I don't want this business to crumble before it even gets started. Once it's up and running, the program will still continue strong even if I'm ousted.

The really crummy things going on have sparked an even deeper hatred for a certain corporation, and I would rather not paint my blog with words of hatred.

So I'm left almost mute.

Well, there was a rather cute guy at Best Buy today that's worth mention, I suppose. I was this [] close to ambiguously flirting with him to test the waters... but I chickened out. It's too bad being gay isn't more noticeable outwardly. It would make things SO much easier... and perhaps a little more difficult (Buttars would know whom to run over with his car).

A tous la haine, on vie en gris

To be honest, I have been too melancholic to blog.

Curtly, the hatred on all sides is sickening.

The hatred in my heart is sickening.

j'en ai marre

A moi la peine, à toi la vie

It's been a crazy few weeks.

My plans to teach Ballroom have really exploded into something I absolutely love. Granted, it's still in the planning stages. (If you're familiar with the INTP, you'll know that such is where I get most of my joy in this type of thing -- planning/thinking/scheming/figuring things out/etc.) I've decided to partner business-wise with my ballroom partner (who teaches Classical Ballet) to form a nonprofit dance academy. I'm loving it.

Who would have thought that I would enjoy playing with the bureaucracies of starting up a business... but I am enjoying it. I think it's mostly because it's new to me, something I haven't delved into yet.


However, there has been a heaviness that I've been feeling kind of in the distance. It's almost sorrow, but mostly undefined. Granted, I'm fairly certain the root: People who believe life is life for some but a sentence for others.

I don't know how to deal with them any more. They think it's okay for life to be [expletive deleted] because it will all be worth it in the next life.

The next life.

What about this one?

Seriously.

What about this one?

What's in a name?

Every several years, I change my signature.

It changes with each new phase in my life.

It's time for me to change my signature.