Rambler's ramblings

A weekend away

2011-10-03T14:00:00.000+02:00

FJ surprised me for my birthday. Now you need to understand that this is not the easiest thing in the world to do. Since childhood, I have been known to discover any plans or presents that have attempted to be hidden from me. I have clawed through cupboards that weren't mine, dug up gardens, and interrogated family and friends until they caved and revealed my pending gift.

I have "surprise phobia" you see.

I wear my heart on my sleeve, and although I trained as an actor back in the day, I'm awful at showing delight for gifts I am not delighted by. It's a family thing. My dad will often ask why we thought he would like a gift we've spent months planning for him. My brother will say thanks and ask if I kept the slip. We're honest like that. I know how ungrateful it may seem, but it's just the way we are. So when I receive a crocheted doily for the top of my couch from some loving person wanting to wish me a happy birthday, I rather wish they hadn't, and show it.

So FJ took a huge risk by attempting to surprise me.

He was cunning in his planning though. He very sneakily planned a weekend away while hiding the other gift he had bought for me. I rummaged his cupboards. Searched his car. But the clever husband of mine had left my gift at his office so I had no way of finding it. My punishment was that I only got to receive it the night of my birthday (I'm a wake-up with singing and boxes of gifts I already the contents of kinda guy). In all my attempts to find a tangible gift (which turned out to be a wireless keyboard for my iPad), he was plotting a secondary surprise to take me away for the weekend to Cullinan. And not just that, to take me microlighting.

Why he wanted to take me microlighting is still beyond me. Nothing about me says please strap me to a hangglider with a tiny propellor while I fly 6500 feet in the air.

The gentleman who did the real piloting was an enormous cattle farmer from the area. I was propelled through the Cullinan sky (screaming internally) with the biggest man I've ever had between my legs (ahem), and every now and then got the courage to look down to see the tiny houses and big hole Cullinan is so famous for. As I landed I surprisingly couldn't stop grinning. I would never have chosen to do this kind of thing, probably never will again, but it was fun.

Of course FJ took to it like a fat girl to cake. Looking all Top Gun-like as he strolled off the "plane", while I looked like a terrified animal, with a bad case of helmet hair, in headlights.

These surprise things can be fun... after the event. But I've had enough surprises for the year, okay. Feet firmly on the ground unless someone is there to offer me chicken or beef. And nothing that requires protective headgear. Please.

A start

2011-09-27T08:58:00.000+02:00

That voice I said I wanted to find got lost in the busyness. Eventually the busyness consumed the voice and when it emerged there was just too much to say.

So I decided to be quiet.

Reading back I see darkness, but I was happier than ever before.

Life gets more confusing the older you get. When you're younger you think you can do anything. As you get older you learn to work with what's in your hand, try make sense of the confusion and accept it. Some may call it being tired.

I call it worship.

Worship of a life that's good because it's honest, because it's questioned, because it's full of fear and confusion and clarity, because it's real.

Lucky. True. Hopeful. Terrified. Brave. Weak. Strong. Reliant. Independent. Rational. Irrational.

Beauty.

A letter... from the lost

2011-05-10T11:31:00.004+02:00

Dear Barry

A friend and I spoke about you on Sunday. You were both of our friend you see. And we had both experienced you in our lives significantly. And we were both grateful that you were a part of it.

I enjoyed talking about you. I still feel sad when I see your profile on Facebook and often find myself going there to see the posts from people who still think of you too. I know we never spoke often towards the end of your time with us, but when we did, man it was cool... and funny, and usually full of too many things we both had opinions on.

The thing we both shared was our faith, in a God who sent his son to die for us, who loved us unconditionally, even though I was gay and you swore like a trooper. :)

We also shared a love for the Church. A longing to touch the people in our cities and tell them about the same God we both had devoted our lives to serving.

And then you lost your life.

And I lost my faith.

Now don't think it was all about you, Barry. But you dying clinched the deal. A friend who reads this blog commented on the last post and asked what exactly I did believe in now. Did I suddenly feel like everything I used to believe in so passionately was now a lie?

I want to answer her.

But somehow I feel like you would be the only person who would understand me, and get me to a place of understanding.

So here goes...

I don't know what I believe anymore.

I can't help but believe that if there is a God, he or she is not really that interested in us. Especially after you died. You were so full of life. And when I heard you were missing, man, did I pray. I remember sinking to the corner of the garage outside my office and begging God for you to be found. Found alive and breathing, and able to return to the family who loved you and the congregation who listened to your every word each week.

I begged.

I had faith.

And this God I loved, was silent.

And so were you.

Jenny and I spoke about your death. She finds comfort in knowing that you live on with God. I find distress knowing that you have young children who won't remember you. And a family ripped with grief.

I am angry. Not just about you. I'm angry that I'm lost. I'm not sure I've been this sad inside for so long ever. I'm angry that a part of who I am makes me wrestle with the community of believers I once devoted my life to. I'm angry that I don't belong. I'm angry that I care that I don't belong.

And I'm sad. I can't fight the sadness anymore. And after Jenny and I spoke, I realised you and I needed to chat. Get this out in the open, because the silence is consuming me.

I miss your presence. I miss our God. I miss the moments we shared and the impact we had. On each other. On others. All for a higher purpose.

I wish I could believe in that God. I wish I could believe that he is in control.

I wish I could believe.

But I can't.

I wish you were still here.

You live on. Always.

Much love
C

Easter - a sad time

2011-04-28T12:11:00.000+02:00

In the midst of long weekend and public holiday mania, I was surprised to find myself feeling quite blue this easter. I should have been enjoying the holidays (and I did, so I should have been enjoying them more I suppose) but I had this weird emptiness and longing that I was rather scared to spend time reflecting on in case it forced me to rethink my life (I have moments like that, y'know).

FJ was working for a significant chunk of the easter weekend and while this makes me sad (I'm terrible at being alone in the house - I feel like I should be doing something but don't know where to start so I decide to do nothing and then feel all anxious about doing nothing so start thinking I should be doing something but don't know where to start so I do nothing so then I just eat and then I feel anxious about eating too much and then think I should go to gym and decide to eat more rather... annnnnyyyyywwwwaaaaaayyyy), my sadness wasn't due to him being at work.

In a surprise turn of events, I was actually sad because easter was no longer as significant for me as it used to be. I posted on Facebook how easter used to be a time of huge excitement in my life - working as a pastor meant that it was a time of real celebration, where hundreds of other Christ-followers and I would get together, break bread, sing songs and proclaim the words "He is risen indeed" loudly and proudly. I have such special memories and so many songs I remember us singing that as I started humming them to myself this weekend, I suddenly got all tearful.

I vowed a while ago that I would not set foot in a church (well, a specific denomination) after they treated a Minister who was lesbian and got married, very badly (in my opinion). And yet, there I sat, longing to be back in the pews joining the masses of believers. I've undergone a massive change in belief over the last few months and while I no longer call myself a Christian, I do miss the community that comes with Christianity. I suppose that's because it's the only thing that really makes Christianity real - the people who believe in it. And those people I really enjoyed being a part of. AndI suppose that's why their rejection of who I was because it didn't fit into their mould of what it meant to be a Christ-follower, hurt me so much. And leaves me feeling sad. I felt like I was mourning the memory of a break-up while they were celebrating the resurrection of their Messiah who died so we no longer needed to live by law or in judgement, but in the knowledge that the kingdom of God is at hand. For all. Yet, I mourn because I feel judged by those who subscribe to a school of thinking that says my marriage to a man is deplorable.

Now I know not all Christ-followers believe this. And I celebrate the Church's choice to wrestle with the acceptance of gay people. I heard of a preacher who spoke this weekend and prayed about mourning on Good Friday. One of things he mourned was that sexuality, which was a gift from God to all, was now the cause of derision and division in the Church. I have experienced a Church divided, and left the war defeated, and hurt, and angry.

Now I watch the war from the bleachers, and I just feel sad.

Lady Gaga sells her soul to the devil?

2011-04-08T12:21:00.001+02:00

I received a mail today. I receive a lot of mails, most of them are necessary to maintain the work-thing, but now and then I get a pearler. Today it was a mail about Lady Gaga. Now this is not the first mail I've received about Gags - I've received a broadcast message on BBM about how she has sold her soul to the devil and that the song Alejandro is actually a prayer to the devil.

The mail today was in a similar vein. I've edited it but left the highlights for you to enjoy:

Unusual pop icon Lady Gaga is reportedly being treated at a Los Angeles county hospital for third degree burns, which she sustained during a bizarre ritual at her $40 million Beverley Hills mansion. According to Manuel Perez, a gardener at her estate, the star had instructed him to create a pit filled with coal and dry foliage at the recess of the garden. He said Gaga had told him the pit would be used for a bonfire. Esther Lamb, a maid working at Gaga’s estate, says she was woken from sleep by a woman shouting at midnight. Upon looking out her window from the maids quarters, Lamb witnessed a bizarre ritual, in which she reportedly saw Gaga dressed in a flowing black robe, dancing around a huge bonfire, screaming. Gaga then plunged herself into the flames. Lamb immediately called 911, and ran out to the garden shouting for help. Sources at the hospital report that a screaming crying Gaga was wheeled in by paramedics at 1am, covered in bruises and burns.

Said paramedic Michael Harris, “Her eyes were glazed over and she just focused on one spot in the ambulance, she had her arms outstretched like she wanted to hug someone.” Gaga started repeating “I have to go, I have to go.” When questioned on where she has to go, Gaga said “My dark prince is asking for me and I have to pass through the fire to be with him ‘cos that’s where he gaga satanic lives.”

Critics say that the “dark prince” is the words often used by Occult worshippers when referring to Satan. Suspicion about Gaga’s affiliation to Satanism and its practices are clearly depicted through the various symbols and imagery in her music videos.

Both Perez and Lamb have been dismissed from their duties for speaking to the press. Gaga’s agents have thus far been tight lipped about the bizarre fire ritual, and media publicity is being avoided via threats of lawsuits. Analysts say that they are not surprised by the silence, as revelation of such bizarre practices will shine the spotlight on the music industry and the many dark truths that it conceals.

Ah, I had to laugh. I'm no fan of L-Gag - I was around when Madonna did much the same thing to get her name in lights. But she sure is genius. Everyone is talking about her. And there's no disputing that the girl can sing.

In case you were wondering, this "article" is not true. And I think the Christians who believe that Gags is where she is because of the devil gives the devil way too much credit. But then again, surely anyone who claims that gays are "born this way" must be from the devil? Witch!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnyyyywaaaaaaaayyyyyy... Lets put this all into context - call it a dose of reality: She knows how to work a crowd, use her pipes and get people to notice her. That's her power.

Images are not mine

Remember

2011-04-06T11:56:00.000+02:00

Remember those days?

Remember when you had something to say? When your voice was loud, and out, and proud? Remember when you wanted to change the world... one blogpost at a time. Remember when authenticity inspired you? When truth motivated you? When the desire to present humanity in what others saw as different kept you awake with excitement all night?

Remember?

And then the unthinkable happened.

They got to you. Those who wanted to quench your passion. They quietened you. They made you just like the god they believe in - silent.

Then why did you wake up angry this morning? Why did you wake up and feel sad that you have been silent? Why did you feel the cathartic need to express this in a post?

Perhaps the times are changing. Perhaps it's time to redefine.

Writing is my attempt to find my voice.

My voice wishes to be heard again.

What are your responses to this?

2011-02-15T10:30:00.002+02:00

You can read my response to the initial news here...

Tis the season

2010-12-09T13:22:00.003+02:00

So after promising to get back into regular posting I see it's been 3 weeks since my last post. Sigh.

I could tell you how busy I've been, but that would be boring.

I could tell you that I've been searching my soul in quiet moments to find inner peace and enlightenment, but that would be a lie.

Or I could just tell you the truth.

I have a Playstation and recently invested in The Sims 3. I spend my entire free time attempting to make play-play people woohoo (aka Sim sex) inbetween essential activities like clearing the fridge and emptying bladders.

It was an impulse buy that's turned into a complete addiction and has left my husband to do things like clear the fridge and, um, all that, while I play. Everyone asks if I'm going away this holiday and the truth is I'm not. I'm ecstatically happy that I'll be at home so I can spend quality time with my Sims and hopefully get a whole load more of them to woohoo their brains out.

In my rapid decline, I mean, mature spiral to 40, I think these games are probably not appropriate. Neither is my obsession with whipping my hair back and forth every opportunity I get, but hey, who are you to judge (I judge enough for both of us).

In other Rambler news, I spent the beginning of this week in sub-tropical terrain (it was rainy okay) looking at avocados. I have to admit it was fascinating and as I trotted through mud with the biggest and curliest hair I've ever had, I found myself with a whole lot more respect for my husband, the farmer. It's hectic business this farming thing. You are at the mercy of the seasons (hence my huge hair) and there is nowhere to get a latte in sight. It's a calling for some I tell you. I got home and headed straight to Seattle Coffee Company to reiterate my cityboy status.

And in even more news, I went to our Christmas party dressed as Zorro. Which would have been cool. If the theme wasn't Wild West. Which Zorro isn't. So I drank. And stole other people's costumes.

I'm cool like that.

Back to work with me. Silly season is here and we have a ludicrous amount of time to whip together genius (and our hair) (back and forth).

Bullets

2010-11-12T10:25:00.002+02:00

Life has been, well, crazy. 2010 has been the most insanely magnificent year of my life and I have so much to be grateful for. But, alas, all the craziness has left this little ol' space a bit stark. That, and being blocked from practically everything at work. This has changed (Ta-dah!) so I can now post again freely and hope to let you into my ramblings more frequently. That's if any of you still care. So the interesting things about this year:

I got a new car
I got married
I got a new job
I got married again
I went to Madagascar
I got another new job (ta-dah!)
I studied a wine course
I wrote a wine exam
I have a wine certificate (ta-dah!)
I'm studying another wine course
Write another exam next Thursday
Will only get a diploma in two year's time
I gave up meat
I still eat fish
I had a stark change in spiritual convictions
I've had a fantastic year (ta-dah!)

Back to my brand spanking new job in my corner office with a view... sigh

40 far from fear

2010-09-04T09:42:00.005+02:00

Right, its spring so let's get light-hearted Rambler back in full swing.

Now anyone who knows me knows I'm obsessed with my age. In fact, I will remind you at least three times in the course of a conversation that I'm closer to 40 than I am to 20. Now, my clever ploy used to be this: I would exclaim how old I was so that I would be flooded with compliments back about how young I looked.

Before you call me shallow. There's reason for this need for validation.

I'm no oil painting. Sure, I'm not the ugliest but I know I'm not going to be gracing the cover of any magazine in the next few years. well, I may if they release a balding magazine. Or a magazine about people who feel they aren't good looking. Or a magazine about guys who drunkenly take their shirts off in clubs and watch their friends run away.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnyyywaaaayyyyyyy....

Spending most of my so-far adult life in Cape Town meant that I was part of the C-pack. The ones in the corner who wished they were cool like the hundreds of models who had just stepped off Clifton 3 and were sipping on their waters while people stroked their six packs.

Cape Town is a vicious town for people with a normal BMI.

So you see, when I exclaimed how much closer I was to 40 than to 20 people would respond with yelps of disbelief, calling their friends to see this marvel of youth and life eternal. At times I would be introduced like this:

Fan of Rambler's youthful looks: Hey, come meet Rambler. How old do you think he is?

Stage notes: Rambler pouts

Soon to be fan of Rambler's youthful looks: I dunno, closer to 20 than 40? Maybe still in school? How did he get into this club? Are you allowed out on a school night?

Stage notes: Rambler continues to pout

Fan of Rambler's youthful looks: No! He's closer to 40 than 20! Can you believe it?

Stage notes: Rambler continues to put as crowd starts to form

Soon to be fan of Rambler's youthful looks: Never! How do you do it Rambler? Environ? Botox? From now on we're ignoring the muscle types and just staring at you at your youthful looks.

Stage notes: Rambler pouts, and looks away coyly while crowd lifts him on their shoulders and chants "NO BO-TOX! NO BO-TOX!" as they parade him along Somerset Road

Now you can see how I might have enjoyed this kind of attention.

As the countdown starts to my even closer to 40th birthday, I recently attempted the same thing in a conversation, dropping in my usual closer to 40 than 20 comment. A friend was with me who, after years of being a part of this script immediately started the conversation as usual with a person standing nearby:

Fan of Rambler's youthful looks: Hey, come meet Rambler. How old do you think he is?

Stage notes: Rambler pouts

Meant to be fan of Rambler's youthful looks: About 40?

So it seems my youthful looks have departed. And gone to some young twink who needs it more than I. I embrace turning almost 40 in a few weeks with grace and style befitting those of us who once bore the title "eternally young" and leave you with this thought:

I'm closer to 20 than I am to 60.

I quit being a Christian

2010-08-03T08:00:00.003+02:00

"Today I quit being a Christian. I'm out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being 'Christian' or to being part of Christianity. It's simply impossible for me to 'belong' to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group."

"In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen."

These were two tweets posted by author Anne Rice recently. The writer of Interview With The Vampire has caused outrage by her statements, deciding to leave all things Christian because of other Christians, really.

I've seen some of the responses. Most Christians in the circle of social media I interact with have agreed that Christians are the worst marketing tool for Christianity while others have tried to remind people how important it is to believe in God despite His or Her followers.

I'm glad Ms Rice said what she did.

I've wondered why I haven't had too much too say on this blog. What was once a platform to vehemently defend Christians, God and those attracted to the same sex has become a silent blog with the odd post to keep in touch with those who I've connected with.

My blog, you might say, has been similar to the God I used to believe in - silent. Things changed over the few years I've spent talking about my Christianity on the blog. Barry's death was the start of my vocal questioning of who this biblical God is. The final nail in the coffin of me declaring to be a Christian was when a church I used to belong to refused to be a part of FJ and my wedding and declared that blessing our marriage was the same as blessing a thief and praying for abundance before he robs a house. That was probably the most hurtful thing I have ever been told.

The blog has been silent because I no longer want to defend my life. I no longer want to explain why FJ and I being married feels like the most natural step in my life, because, well it's my life. My truth is different to yours. I've always said that the greatest gift you can allow someone in life is their truth, especially when it's different to yours. And while the majority of the readers of this blog have been extremely supportive in their comments, it's the silence from friends and some family that has been the loudest. Especially those who are Christians. I've had mails from some saying that they were silent because they disagree with me marrying but glad I'm happy, while most have not acknowledged FJ's place in my life. They have been just like their God - silent.

I have fought to reconcile my belief in the biblical God and a sexuality I never chose. I have chosen to stop fighting.

I suppose you can say the Church won. They would rather not have to deal with people in same-sex relationships and claim to be "wrestling" with it. The Jesus I read about told people where they stood immediately and it was only based on their relationship with him. Nothing else. The thief on the cross next to Christ (which I was compared to) was welcomed into paradise for doing nothing but declaring Christ to be the messiah.

But that's a rambler fight of the past.

I have walked away. A while ago. I am not a Christian. I will not be a part of a church again because I have experienced them to be as Ms Rice says: "quarrelsome, hostile and disputatious." I'm often reminded of an image Trevor Hudson, an incredible minister and author, described in one of his sermons. He spoke of the Christ waiting like a groom for his bride to emerge much like we see in weddings today. As the bride of Christ (the Church) turns to walk down the aisle he sees a battered bride. Her dress torn, bruises on her face. She's been fighting.

That's not a place I choose to be.

Eating animals no more

2010-07-28T11:14:00.002+02:00

I recently decided to stop eating meat. I've always loved meat and have often listed my favourite foods (in those quizzy type things) as simply just meat (I am from Benoni after all), but when attempting to be a bit more classy (I wonder if I should have spelt classy with a 'k') I have listed bacon, chicken and even ribs.

Strangely, the thought of consuming any of these foods is now nauseating for me.

I have often thought of not eating meat. I hate the idea that some poor animal had to die so I could chomp on its thigh, but I always pushed that to the back of my mind. I suppose you have to when you arrive at Nando's and they've already rung up your order when spotting your car pulling up.

It started when I read a book called God is not Great by Christopher Hitchens. Now, you should walk away from that reflecting on how aspects of religion have been damaging to humankind and the examining the possibility that God may not exist. I walked away not eating pork.

Long story.

Then Carte Blanche did a story on egg farms and I saw those poor little male chicks being sent into a masher and a few others dumped into an empty old dam to die.

No eggs for me.

I then read a book called Eating Animals after seeing an interview on the Ellen show.

I then watched a cow being led to slaughter on youtube.

I wish I hadn't. But I'm glad I did.

So for two months I have not eaten meat. I have eaten the odd piece of fish but think I may head to cutting that out of my diet too. And I feel fantastic for it. Not in a healthy way - in a humane kind of way. I like that I didn't hurt another living animal so I could nosh.

Now FJ, who has to deal with my many idiosyncrasies, has attempted many times to explain how animals have evolved to be eaten by us. I understand that. Friends have shown me their gnashers and explained how they are perfectly shaped to rip into an animal's flesh. Sure. And some others have just blatantly mocked me and told me how idiotic the concept is.

The latter response has been the most concerning.

At no stage have I told anyone that they shouldn't eat lambs, calves and chickens, but somehow saying that I choose not to invokes an argumentative response.

I know it's a pain to invite me to dinner now. Lord knows, I used to roll my eyes when informed that I had to prepare something without animal flesh in it. And being a wine drinker, I know how difficult it is to pair wines with food when traditionally food and wine pairing is all about what carcass you are about to consume.

I just can't bring myself to do it. As an animal I don't want to stop other animals from having a life when I don't have to. I don't mind if you do. I hope you eat less, mostly from an environmental perspective, but if you want to eat animals then that's fine.

I'll just pair my Cabernet Sauvignon with something that hasn't been killed.

That's all.

Some of my favourite pics

2010-06-07T22:50:00.010+02:00

So as you may know, FJ and I were married (for a second time) on 1 May in what was probably the most incredible day of my life. I have so many highlights - but here are some of my favourite pics from the day...

My favourite pic

Fixing the hair... hehehe

Fj's best man and his wife arriving at our hotel

My fabulously gorgeous best man

"Are you sure we signed the antenuptial FJ?"

Le Canard - the most fabulous restaurant in Johannesburg

We had a slight disco theme - which was only revealed later...

Disco! baby...

A friend was at the wedding and at the risk of "outing" her i thought i'd cut and paste her version of the wedding here for you to read. She expressed it far better than I can:

So there we were, in all our finery, about sixty of us, waiting, watching the door, anticipatory, supping on our champagne, all sophisticated-like. I wore sequins. Lots and lots of them. And sweet little diamante earings. And eye shadow. It was An Occassion you see. Deserving of everybody's finest. My love looked amazing. And how lovely to go to our first wedding together.

We were squashed into a smallish room because The Weatherman blessed the happy couple with some beautiful rain, necessitating a move in from the courtyard outside. Lucky the bride it rains on and all that, except we need to modernise it slightly, and get it up to speed... Lucky the grooms it rains on. The room was full. Of people. And love.

And then, the music changed and there they were - fabulously gorgeous, blue-silk-tied and black-suited, looking more handsome (both) than any childhood prince I'd ever imagined. And glowing, with love, that coursed its way through the already love-filled room. Incredible. A beautiful ceremony, my one tissue not nearly enough. I always cry at weddings and never remember to bring tissues. Thank goodness for C remembering. Poor thing had to make do with one, being kind enough to give the other to me, thus allowing me to keep my dignity and not have to wipe snot on my sleeves.

The reception was gorgeous - delicious food, lovely people, incredible speeches. All of them. It is seldom that you find every speech at a wedding is good. There is normally (at least) one that drags on, or has cringeworthy inappropriateness. Not this wedding. They were all carefully thought out, funny, short enough and, again, so filled with love.

We sat at a table with a fantastic set of people. A gay couple to my left - gentle, sweet boys, the kind I'd like to invite over for dinner (if they didn't live so far away). They seemed to have a wiseness about them. Next to them, the youngster, checking his phone every five minutes (at a wedding!). He was aghast with horror at my challenge for him to try not having his phone for a week. Next to him a wonderful Fag Hag and her Fag - beautiful cleavage in a fantastic lace dress, foreheads as smooth as a baby's, both of them. Botox parties - they have Botox parties in The Big Smoke. Seriously. They all get together at somebody's house and the doctor comes and injects them all. My turn to be aghast. It's a different world up there in The Big Smoke. And then the Robbie Williams lookalike.

Food, wine, more food, they met on Facebook. My first Facebook wedding, my first wedding with my love, my first wedding with two boys doing the wedding-ing. And all so fabulous.

Then there was 'gift time', when each guest got a feather boa, and the dancing began with the following announcement: "The first dance is for everyone." Brilliant. And even brillianter (poetic licence - my blog, my vocabulary) music. The dance floor was full. Every. Single. Person. Was on it.

My highlight? When the groom (A) stood up and said his speech, a beautiful, heartfelt declaration of love. He had been nervous of his Dad's reaction you see. His Dad had accepted that his son was marrying a man, and come to the wedding, but I think he was still worried. It's one thing to be accepting of your child's sexual preference, but quite another to be fully exposed to him kissing a man, in front of you. And fifty other people. Well, mid-speech, he spoke about just such things, and of his Dad, and his Dad stood up, walked over to him, and hugged him. Awe-inspiringly beautiful moment.

It was just the kind of wedding that inspires faith in humanity. And reinforced my belief that love doesn't see gender. Or race. Or religion. Or any of those other things that people use to try and quell it. It just doesn't have any boundaries. Or stipulations. Or rules. And we should just be so grateful if we are the lucky creatures who have it. It is SO precious.

All things wine and beautiful...

2010-06-06T19:27:00.002+02:00

I'm studying at the moment. Well, not right now, although my text book is lying next to me, open as if the knowledge may be imparted by osmosis. Simply having it open implies that it's in use and hence, somehow, making it into my brain.

Now, I like telling people I'm studying. It's like when I first got reading glasses. People told me I looked clever. I only realised later it affirmed their belief that I was fast heading down the decline called "closer-to-40-than-20". But when I tell friends I can't come out to play and add in the reason: "I have to study," which is usually followed by a sigh, they immediately get all: "Oh! Wow! What are you studying?" I usually scoff (us clever people do that - we scoff. In a I'm-very-clever-to-be-studying-past-a-school-leaver's-age scoff-like way) and tell them that it's very intense. Lots of technical data, two exams a practical and a theory and I feel all so overwhelmed. I then scoff again (so clever!).

They usually sound appropriately impressed by my-oh-so-clever-decision-to-extend-my-knowledge-beyond-Britney-Spears.

"Yes, that's all very daunting clever one, but what are you actually studying," is often the persistent nag to take it further than me just being clever, to which I respond: "Wine."

And, while the response is usually a retraction of the impressed-ness and a more "oh dear, the silly boy hasn't realised that you just need to drink it" I do have to qualify my decision...

You see, studying wine has become a huge passion of mine. I cut my teeth as a writer for a magazine that focused on wine and food. The magazine gets sent out to members of a wine club (not an insignificant number) and I would read about all these wines that were described as having a delicious cat's pee aroma on the nose and feel quite confused. I even went to the tastings and was allowed to judge (although no one ever came to pick up my scores). This proved that I knew nothing about wine as each wine I rated with a firm twenty-out-of-twenty was proclaimed "baaaaaaaaaaaad" by the panel of old people. Some even told me the wine was corked.

While I never took my interest further I started to love drinking wine.

So I decided to join the Cape Wine Academy and did their first course. I'm now on the second tier and have, as I said, two exams. The first is about winemaking process, differences in varietals, viticulture, wine-growing regions, fortified wines, brandy and sparkling. It's massively technical but so interesting. Who knew that a simple glass of wine could hold so much value, depth and history. It's like travelling to a vineyard in a glass. Hence the fact that I don't drink wine from the Free State - who wants to go there?

My second exam is a tasting exam. Seven or so wines are placed before me and i have to judge the wines. I have no idea what they are and can only see that they are red or white. I then have to describe them, judge them and, in conclusion, identify if it is a Cabernet Sauvignon or a Merlot (for example), tell the examiners what year it was produced, what alcohol content it has, name the region I think it was grown and take a stab at what producer it is.

Needless to say, I'm drinking, um, I mean tasting a lot more wine than usual and trying to study in between...

I'm thinking of starting a separate blog to this describing my wine adventures. Hmmm, I wonder if anyone would want to read that?

The reunion...

2010-05-30T08:27:00.003+02:00

It's Sunday morning. Day one of "I-reclaimed-my-power-after-eating-average-food-and-drinking-bad-wine-with-boys-I-went-to-school-with-20-years-ago" and I'm still in bed catching up on all my blog reading. FJ is in bed next to me, also on the computer. He's always been the music buff in our relationship. He scoffs when I, ahem, bust-a-move to Britney in the lounge or strike a pose when I crank the Queen up. But now, I have decided to "out" this music buff. He may fool you into thinking he's the headboy of house but right now he has no one other than the crown princess of pop blaring away. He's attempting to explain her use of soul and funk, but the truth is, he's become a Lady Gaga fan. I think he may actually be turning into a gay man...

So much has changed since "I-reclaimed-my-power-after-eating-average-food-and-drinking-bad-wine-with-boys-I-went-to-school-with-20-years-ago".

So onto the reunion.

Two friends who were in the same year as I was decided to meet for a drink before the reunion so we could mentally prepare ourselves for an evening with our former classmates and teachers. I was manic and couldn't stop talking while they both sat watching me talk about Lord knows what with a slight lack of colour in their faces. We drove to our old school all waiting for one of us to veer off and head home rather than facing the pack. But, we did it.

I spent four hours in the old school hall listening to speeches about why I should give money to the school to make it even better than it is today and watched a powerpoint presentation where I actually even featured every now and then. Seems something I did at school was worth their attention.

Let's just say, after an evening with the boys, I realise how much I have benefited in being a gay man. Moisturising since I could walk on my own has had it's advantages it seems. I was told by the then-first team rugby captain that I was the only guy who looked exactly as I did 20 years ago. His exact words were: "Sho you shommer look the shame as you did in shcool." He then tried to say my surname and dribbled a bit on my shoulder.

I screamed internally but decided to take the compliment. I think that's the nicest thing a rugby captain has ever said to me.

After smearing myself with anti-bacterial wipes (I came armed) I tucked into the creamed cauliflower and butternut and sipped on the vinegar with alcohol and caught up on everyone's news. One guy lives in the estate I do. We made no plans to meet. I shook a lot of hands and thanked God that some of these rather large, bald-headed men were wearing name tags so
I could vaguely place them as ex-classmates. I was deeply grateful that i never sat near the back of the hall (seems things never change - the F-class were camped at the back) as the alcoholic boys with their bloated faces and red sheened cheeks got louder and crasser and attempted to regale the hall by shouting about how many classes they had bunked while at the school.

That all said, I loved reconnecting with a teacher I was incredibly close to at school and remained friends with afterwards. I loved reconnecting with the friends I loved back then in the same hall we used to sit in day in and day out. And, most of all, I loved the fact that I was no longer scared. Back then, these guys were so important. Their validation was all I craved. 20 years down the line I realised that they held no power. That what they thought about me was actually rather meaningless. That who I am is not based on their perception of me. That I've come a long way since then. Standing tall and proud -with no shame or excuse to proclaim that I am who I am.

And then I left.

Before dessert.

Without saying goodbye.

I had done what I needed to do and wish them all the best.

So much of ... panic

2010-05-28T07:17:00.005+02:00

If I was a tranquiliser kinda-guy, I would be popping a few right now. But, alas, I'm not. So I'll just allow the shudders of panic to flow through me as I pretend that all is well in ramblerland.

I have reason for the panic. I'm not a panic-attack kinda-guy - and don't get random attacks of spontaneous terror for things like not being able to find a parking bay. Panic is only induced by the really serious stuff. Like having flu symptoms after being in a Malaria area. Well, let me be honest, that creates concern rather than panic.

Having malaria symptoms means having to have blood tests, which means a needle piercing through my tender skin and flesh. that induces mild terror.

Waiting to find out if I have parasites partying in my liver. Frenzied fear.

But I have more than this to warrant my hair falling out en masse. And believe me, I'm desperately trying to hold onto every strand (on my head, that is).

Saturday 29 May is the reason.

When 80 boys who matriculated with me will reunite to see how much more successful the one is than the other, to brag about the children they have, and lament the loss of their looks and/or hair.

Saturday 29 May is my 20-year high-school reunion.

And I'm going.

I've spent the last week asking myself why I'm putting myself through this. There's every reason not to go. I speak to three people from my high-school 20 years since we were forced to spend our week days together. And one of those is a teacher. The other two are friends that I only recently reunited with.

So why the hell do I want to spend an evening (in suit and tie.... again) chatting about my life. Now let me put you in the picture here...

I went to a boy's school. One of the oldest in the country with a wonderful sporting history. For those of you who know me, the word 'sporting' immediately explained why I, the drama kid who loved choir practice and the library at break, feel terror at the thought of going back. Let me put you in the picture even further... I have an ex-Springbok rugby player who matriculated with me and the ex-Springbok rugby coach was my housemaster (I was in boarding school) for five years.

I played rugby once. I ran away from the ball every time someone threw it to me.

I played cricket but throw like a girl, so whenever the ball came near me I would run and pick it up and throw underhand towards the sticks that were put in the ground. It would land about two metres in front of me so I would have to run and fetch it and repeat the ordeal until I was at the sticks. By this stage the people with the bats were back in the change rooms telling people about the turd trying to throw.

I tried waterpolo but had to hang onto the side of the pool whenever the umpire wasn't looking because it was all too exhausting for me.

So now, 20 years down the line, I'm off to remember the good ol' days.

And remember that these boys are pretty much the reason why I feel like I don't fit in at the best of times. Why I'm very aware that men have the potential to hurt you if they perceive you as different. And that being a gay man is distinctly different - even if it's merely suspected.

That's why I will go back. To reclaim my lost power. To stand tall and say that I deserve to be in that room as much as they do. That I too am married, just to a man. But that I am no different to any boy who sat in those classrooms.

I just hope like hell they don't decide to play a quick game on the top fields...

Post-mayhem blues

2010-05-25T06:36:00.003+02:00

Sheesh, can 2010 be any more manic? New job, marriage, Madagascar, World Cup, exams, Britney being the most followed on Twitter - a boy can only handle so much excitement. Suffice to say, my time has been totally consumed. I've spent the last month walking around in a daze of euphoria - in love, content and grateful.

I know I have much to catch up on. I'll do seperate posts about the wedding and honeymoon. They deserve many, many pictures (and the odd video?) but for now, I have to say how grateful I am for those who embraced two men getting married so easily and showered us with so much love. We couldn't invite everyone to the wedding - in fact, by many standards the gathering was tiny - but the amount of love and congratulations we have received through the many social media sites and elsewhere has been incredible.

It's nice to know that people can be happy for you, even if they can't reconcile what you are doing with their truths. Allowing people to live in their truth, even when it's not your own, is a great gift to give someone.

I am especially grateful when I look at what's happening in Malawi. My heart aches for the two men who bravely stood up to their laws and received the severest penalty they could receive. As an African I am embarrassed. As a human I am outraged. As a gay man I am distressed.

I'm not sure how I can be a part of stopping this kind of abuse in Africa. I'm not sure how I can stop lesbians from being murdered in my own country. All I know is I can't be silent. And I hope many more stand up to be heard so that action can follow. I believe in dialogue, always will. And I believe in humanising what others see as a "type". A tiny attempt at militance in a battle that's fueled by ignorant beliefs and religious self-righteousness.

So, with that in mind, I realise we live in an incredible country. I do not take being married to FJ for granted, and am extremely grateful to those who fought before me so I could express my love for a man openly and without harm.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnyyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy...

I'll post pics of the wedding and Madagascar soon. There's even a pic of FJ in a speedo that I know you'll enjoy...

We're married...

2010-05-02T17:38:00.003+02:00

And we kissed...

And everyone was fine...

Thanks to everyone for the love, the support and the wishes!

Gay wedding Checklist 2

2010-04-29T07:07:00.002+02:00

Three days before the wedding:

Make sure you're as nervous as hell and so excited you could just scream. CHECK
Be sure to have as many arguments with your spouse to be about random things like the colour of the flowers on the table and the order of the first three songs. CHECK
Be devastated that you've forgot to go to the tan-can so you look deliciously Mediterranean. CHECK
Start stressing about things like speeches, time-keeping and how you stop the father from passing out when you kiss. CHECK
Try to recover from a rather boozy bachelors (that could probably be best described as a hen party). CHECK
Try to ignore the flashbacks from your hen party. Of course you weren't running around with a blonde wig, black angel wings and a penis wand for all to admire. CHECK
No man, you never put the penis wand in your mouth. Not once, okay. CHECK
Try to manage a magazine going to print, studies, planning a wedding, not eating so you look skinny for the wedding, delirium from the not eating, planning a honeymoon to Madagascar and normal day-to-day life while you appear glamorous and in control to all who ask. CHECK
Start thinking of all the things you want to say about your gorgeous spouse-to-be and fall in love with him all over again. CHECK
Tell everyone you can that you'll be island-hopping through Madagascar in a week's time to anyone who will listen. CHECK
Scream two more sleeps at the start of every conversation. CHECK!

New job and a wedding...

2010-04-17T07:10:00.003+02:00

I started my new job a couple of weeks ago. I'm not sure if the silence on my blog is due to the fact that I have been completely overwhelmed for the last two weeks or that the company I work for block every single site that may tempt you to communicate with anyone but your colleagues. The new job is great though - I'm loving the fresh stimulation of new programmes and people - but incredibly busy. It's a huge monthly magazine and a completely different style and target market than what I'm used to. And it's all done on a computer programme I'm not completely familiar with...

And, yes, they block facebook, twitter and oddly enough, gmail. That means I can't sign into my blog. It blocks the sign in section. So damn clever, these IT-types, but so strange for a publishing house. Oh well, I'll have to get into a new routine with posting.

Now onto the good stuff.

I get married in two weeks today! Yep, it's finally around the corner. Two weeks and counting down to the day my dad sees me kiss a man.

that's probably the thing that's concernng me the most. The people coming to the wedding obviously have no problem with the fact that we're boys in love (or else they wouldn't be there - I hope) but that doesn't mean they're ready to watch us kiss. A friend or two have even expressed concern at it. Being fine with being gay doesn't mean they're ready to see us in action. Ahem.

So what should we do?

As the minister declares: "You may now kiss your groom," do we have a quick pause and flash up a PG sign? Do I turn to my dad with an apologetic look before tonguing my man.

Ew.

Can't believe I typed that, I would never do that. Does it mean that Fj and i do the quickest peck known to mankind? Will we be the first couple to hug instead of kiss. Or should we just shake hands while we sheepishly wish we could kiss and smile at the onlookers, clapping in relief?

Or do we throw caution to the wind and let people deal with their own fears and perceptions of what's normal. After all, they haven't eaten yet so we may only hear dry heaves.

Can you tell I've been stewing on this?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyywwaaaaaayyyyy..

The wedding is full steam ahead. Outfits ready - check! Big phallic candle for the centre of the ceremony - check! Medic (for the father's possible passing out in horror) on standby - check! Fabulous food and wine - check! Abba - check! Madonna - check!

All too exciting... let the countdown begin!

Miss(ter) Martin

2010-03-30T09:53:00.006+02:00

So! Ricky Martin has come out! Who would have thought? Ricky Martin? Gay? Nooooooooooooo!

Miss(ter) Martin, we knew you were gay before you knew she bangs. The moment you admitted your obsession with Madonna, we all turned to each other with a knowing smirk. When we saw you working out on the beach (fag in hand), we knew. No straight man wears a speedo on a public beach. Gay men, well, it's a uniform. No entry unless your budgie is smuggled (and preferably in full view).

We all knew when you adopted twins. You're a fine looking man. Any woman in her right mind would breed with you. I know a lot of men that would die trying. Ahem...

So, for those of you who are in the closet and would like to keep it shut a bit tighter than Miss(ter) Martin did, here are ten important lessons for you.

How to stay in the closet without everyone knowing:
1. Never admit to liking Madonna. In fact, do not even acknowledge knowing a song of hers. You will have to fight the urge to whip your hands in the air and snap as soon as her songs come on, but fight you will. That closet doesn't come with a lock, you know.

2. Never do a song with Christina Aguillera. Just saying.

3. Do not wear a speedo. You may anonymously take a pic of your headless, speedo-wearing body and paste it on gay dating sites. Married men do it all the time.

4. Do not be in a speedo with other men wearing a speedo, unless you are Ryk Neetling.

5. Never sing in Spanish. Ever.

6. Never adopt kids unless you have a valid reason to. Or if you are married to Angelina Jolie. That's fine...

7. Never ever, and I mean ever, wear tight pants while shaking your hips as you sing. Gay men have notoriously good rhythm and their bums are important to them, so hence the innate ability to shake them well. Few straight men get the dance gene.

8. Never be better looking than everyone else. That's just mean. And every man you meet will be trying to get you out of that closet. Their reasons may vary from man to man.

9. Do not cry about the impoverished people you came across on a help mission while you are on the Ellen show. You may only cry if Ellen gives you a car. Anything else is just gay.

10. Do not refuse to answer questions about your sexuality. Nothing says gay than someone refusing to say. Just lie. We all did.

First day blues

2010-03-24T10:30:00.004+02:00

In less than three days I finish my current job and start a whole new chapter with a new company. So gosh darn exciting! I'm going to be working on the biggest magazine title in South Africa currently, and with a team that I can only grow from. It's also one of the biggest publishing houses in the country, so there's opportunity in the future. It seems like a pretty good career move.

It's always daunting walking into a company for the first time and sitting at your new desk with your not-so-new computer (always remember to take disinfectant wipes to work on your first day - the keyboard and phone are crawling with bacteria, and, let's face it, you could be replacing someone who had to leave because they showed symptoms of the bubonic plague). I must be honest, the first day is probably the most scary. You have to say hi and try remember names and hope that someone will tell you where the loo is before you wet your chair. You have no idea who's cool and who's not, and if there will be a microwave to warm your lunch.

It's like being the new kid in high school. You hope like hell you make a good first impression.

I tend to over-share when I'm nervous. Or I become so quiet that people wonder why they employed me. Inside I'm shy, okay.

But the over-sharing thing is what concerns me. Ever have those pregnant pauses where you don't know what to say? I NEVER do. I fill them. You don't speak for a second? Baby, I will fill the gap and ramble. About anything. Usually Britney Spears. Which either gets me a friend for life, or more silence. Which makes me fill the silence more. So I talk about feathers. Silence. Then I sing... "O may I go a wandering, along life's mountain track... Valdereeeeeeeeeee..." Stone cold silence.

You get the picture.

So this first day will be different. I will walk in remembering I am closer to 40 than I am to 20, and talk about mature things like Julius Malema and the rise of atheism in the modern world.

Hmmmmm...

Valdereeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Sunday inspiration...

2010-03-21T06:33:00.002+02:00

If any movie makes you want to start a blog it will be Julie and Julia. I spotted it in the DVD store last night and, having missed it while on circuit, thought it made for perfect Saturday staying-in material. FJ and I are in a bit of a stay-in phase. Partly because we have a wedding to pay for and a nasty habit of going to the store for groceries and coming back with oversized plasma screen TVs. So we're like Emily Dickinson at the mo. We just roll a basket out the window and hope that kind strangers will pop in a pawpaw or two.

Fj was also a victim of crime after his brief visit to deep dark Africa. His wallet got nabbed and they conveniently tucked into our joint account before we could stop them. Such is life... and no need to feel down about it. Things could have been far worse in deep dark Africa (especially in a country that's started imprisoning gay people for life if they're discovered).

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnyyyywaaaayyyyyyy...

Back to the movie about Julie and that darling Julia Child. If you haven't seen it - it's about two women, both based on real characters. Julia Child was an American woman who learnt how to cook French food, wrote a cookbook and became a celebrity in doing so. Julie is a charming young woman with hardly any money and in a job she hates so she decides to start a blog cataloguing the challenge she has set herself - to cook all the recipes from Julia Child's book Mastering the Art of French Cooking in one year. Over 500 recipes in 365 days.

As she starts the blog, she is just like any of us who have started a blog - that clumsy first post as you try to introduce yourself and hope like hell someone will read it.

You watch her get her first comment and the excitement that creates. It turns out to be her mom asking if anyone but her reads the blog. Rather deflating. But eventually she has an avid readership with readers sending her ingredients to use as she discovers her voice - not only through food, but on the keypad of thoughts spewed into cyberspace.

Needless to say, I felt inspired.

I started the blog to find my voice. I'm one of those people who comes across as incredibly confident, sometimes a bit larger than life, when deep inside I have no idea if I'm even vaguely on the right track on this thing called life. Blogging has taught me an invaluable lesson - there is no track; there is only reflection on the steps you've made. And that's why I blog.

I know I've been heavy in recent posts. I feel like I lost the light-hearted rambler who saw the fun in being vespa-ed around Joburg and the delight at being closer to 40 than 60 and who wanted to capture the journey of a pair of black shoes around the world.

I've felt the need to defend who I am. Because I'm a bit different to the norm.

Thanks to this blog and the people who have responded here, by mail and in person, I've realised that my journey is my journey. My voice is mine. My heart belongs to who I choose to give it to. And, thanks to a little movie called Julie and Julia, I feel inspired to find the fabulous all over again...

Okay, I have to go. I have a boeuf bourguignon in the oven and a hungry husband to feed...

Whataya want from me?

2010-03-14T07:39:00.003+02:00

I thought I'd post a bit of Sunday fluff... here's the song I can't stop playing at the mo...

Written by one of my favourite performers and sung by another of them...

Sorry about the odd way it embed into the blog but I can't get the video any smaller

dammit

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

2010-03-12T09:39:00.004+02:00

Much to report back on so will post in bullets points as don't have time to do the details.

been up since 3am. Insomnia (the bitch) came to visit. On fourth cup of coffee. Feel surprisingly alert.
resigned from my job at the beginning of the month
have a new one obviously
Veh veh excited
also have new car
and new spouse
life is good
so is coffee
church told the person who was meant to marry us that he can't.
equated our wedding with praying for a robber to rob a house and be abundant.
refuse to get heavy about it on blog.
will rather stew at home
but am drinking coffee
so feel surprisingly chipper
whhhhheeeeeeeee
went to see Shaolin Monks on Tuesday
who knew kung fu could be so boring
two hours of "wheeeeeeee, look what I can do!"
wheeeeeeeeeeeeee
sipping on my coffee as we speak...
whheeeeeeeeeeeee

Maybe. Probably.

2010-03-03T16:20:00.004+02:00

So when you go to Home Affairs to get married, you may get very nervous beforehand. You may even go red and stammer a bit when people greet you or ask you how you're doing.

You apparently get a bit coy when you see the person you're about to get married to get out of the car and head towards you looking all dashing and hot. Even though you're on the pavement of Home Affairs.

In fact, you may even get a bit tearful.

Apparently.

When you head up to the room (filled with streamers that look like they came out the ark, drenched over the faded fake chrysanthemums) you may realise that you shouldn't have worn white pants because the place is donnerse dusty.

But you may not care because you're all red and bashful so any attention off your face is good.

You may get flustered when the civil union officer asks you if you want to get married or partnered and you have no idea what the difference is. You may feel a bit sheepish that the few people who you told about your "secret" wedding know that you have no real clue what you're doing. Buuuuuuut, you'll probably get over it when you realise how much you want to do it, even though you have no idea what it means. Essentially.

You may even feel a bit concerned for your spouse-to-be's father who is really out of his depth when it comes to seeing his son marry a man. You may feel delighted that he put his own conservative perceptions aside and decided his son means more than anything else.

You'll feel especially relieved when he pays the R15 for the wedding because he has change and you were too red and bashful to think of things like a ten rand note and a five rand coin.

You'll probably love it when the officiant makes you swap rings and say 'I do' when years ago you wrestled with the fact that marriage was probably never going to be an option for you. You'll probably remember that moment for the rest of your life. And how red you were...

You'll also probably never forget everyone clapping as you were pronounced Spouse A and Spouse B and then formed a little chain-thingy outside for you and your husband to run through while they shout things like 'yay' and 'mazeltov'. That's because there were probably Jewish people there. Or maybe just one...

You'll probably never forget that day.

And you'll probably think it the happiest day in your life.

Maybe.

Probably.

Just saying.

Time to let it go

2010-02-25T10:09:00.002+02:00

I'm officially over the heavy stuff. Time to move on and get back to why I started this blog - to have fun. So I'm married to a man. Um, I mean marrying.... (oops)... so be it. If you don't like it then, oh well.

Time to get back to fabulouuuuuuuuusness and talking about all things gay like feathers and ABBA and the Queen and marriage.

I hear you sigh in relief!

God hates you

2010-02-23T10:46:00.006+02:00

I received a comment from someone (as I do) in response to the Ecclesia de Lange story that I had posted. I haven't blogged about the outcome to her appeal and my response to it because, to be honest, I was quite emotional about it. I didn't want to have an emotional or angry response - I always try to be guarded in what I put in writing but her expulsion from the Methodist ministry is very sad.

Don't get me wrong. I know she broke the rules by marrying her partner. I know that breaking the rules has consequences. I suppose my sadness is that the response spoke volumes about the Church's tolerance of gays. That's what it is - tolerance.

I have therefore made personal decisions about my way forward and how I will deal with my own personal battle to reconcile being a man in love with a man and someone who wants to be actively involved in the church. Those I'm sure I will share when I feel less angry.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnyyywaaaayyyy...

Getting back to the comment. It was a usual "God hates gays and all of us deviants must kneel before the cross of Christ or spend eternity in hell". What I do find amazing about these comments is that they are left anonymously. If you're going to tell me how to live my life and assume your scriptural right to do so at least leave a name and address where we can continue the dialogue. If you don't want dialogue then please don't post anything here. I have said before and I will say again - you are more than welcome to your opinions on this platform, as am I. Let's just be mature about it.

My response to this kind of comment which is so filled with God's hate is by quoting the words of Wesley - "your god is my devil".

But the following comment really did blow me away and I want more people to read it. It's written by an atheist. And that in itself is astonishing. And it's also written by a man I love very deeply. Here was his response to this person (I have edited it slightly):

I know very many christians who love god. Who are certain that god loves them. They thrive on this love they believe they receive.

They allow themselves to give and receive love in human interactions as a spouse, parent, child, friend, neighbour and sometimes a stranger. They regularly give thanks to god that they can.

They read their scriptures and listen to the sermons of their fellow man, reminding them that god is love. That Jesus died on the cross for all mankind to turn to god and feel his warm embrace and the promise of an eternal happiness, basking in the glow of his love.

They pray, sometimes fervently, to be able to forgive as he taught when they are hurt by others who hate... lest they be on the receiving end of the first stone cast.

I'm sure you never meant to cast any doubt on the love god has for them by your comments.

If I were a man craving to live and love as god taught, I might be in a serious spot of bother. This is because, dear Anonymous, your comment speaks only of hatred. A god who is so angry with his creation, he has no room left for love.

For those touched by god's love and grace, who walk beside the sick, poor and dying, touching lives with his love - where do they find it? Which god is giving them this love? Are they deceived by satan into being good? It is sad to see one so seemingly strong in faith propelled by hate.

What you say makes me wonder about the god you speak of - one so angry he has no place for love. Where there is no place for love, we are left with hate. A hate so deep and overpowering it will ultimately consume and destroy. Is satan's work not to breed hate? Is satan's work not to let pride and prejudice fester in a mans soul and fill him with hate which will most certainly lead to hate for his fellow man? Does that hatred not lead man away from the god he seeks to love?

Why not leave the judging to where it is presumably made, at the foot of gods throne, and get on with being a better person, dealing with real people, living real lives, making real impacts to those around them, with love and compassion.

To all haters of people that are different - through nothing more than a single differentiating feature - ponder what you might say if one day, that which drives your hatred stares you in the face as the face of god and you are left with with no escape from your deep remorse at doing Satan's bidding for hatred. Fear that.

Why shouldn't life be like a musical?

2010-02-15T11:42:00.005+02:00

I had a conversation with a friend Simon a few years ago on Facebook. Now we chatted often and that particular day I had told him I was feeling a bit low. He responded by reminding me that we should always try live our lives as if we were in a musical... This is the conversation that ensued (and which he very cleverly found and published on his blog).

This is how it went:

Simon see? life should be a musical. then everything ALWAYS has a happy ending :)

Rambler except Carousel

Simon oh so there's an exception or two...

Rambler yep... you seen Carousel... her husband kills himself in the end and then they all sing"You'll never Walk Alone"... Lovely stuff
Can you tell I'm still in my pit of depression?

Simon hmmmm... and in Moulin Rouge Nicole Kidman dies too...
Ok so maybe musicals wasn't such a great theme...

Rambler Yes.. she dies while he sings "Come What May"
And in Grease Sandy starts smoking at the end so she'll probably die too...

Simon And in the Sound of Music they still have to leave their home and move to Switzerland which is a really expensive country and they have no income because Captain von Trapp lost his job and Maria doesn't exactly have much work experience. So they will be homeless...

Rambler Exactly... so they'll probably die...
And Evita dies...

Yes, Simon... why can't life be a musical?

Simon In Jesus Christ Superstar he was crucified!
OMG what have I done?

Rambler yes... he died too... but apparently he came back to life ... like the girl in Rent... so maybe all is not lost...

Simon ok so maybe musicals aren't a good analogy for life.
let me think up another tactic... that one failed miserably.

Rambler It was fun!

Simon just to point out... Christine and Raul still hooked up at the end of Phantom, so they were happy, and Joseph's whole family got to move to Egypt and eat as much as they wanted during the 7 years of famine... so they were happy too...

Rambler Yah, but she hooked up with a dude witha deformed face and with the way he sings he's probably gay... and lets not forget that Joseph's family first starved and the dad thought Joseph was dead. So he was depressed and malnourished. Eating probably made him die sooner... and Joseph wore make-up after meeting the Egyptians. Fag.

Simon so there is nothing wrong with a couple of homos... musicals were designed around us. Joseph looked much hotter with make-up btw... Joseph's family had a bad run but still had a happy ending. At least his dad died with a full tummy and was happy knowing his son was alive.

There is no way Phantom was gay. He would ...never have looked like that if he was. He would have turned to plastic surgery sooner and wouldn't wear black all the time.

Ecclesia part three

2010-02-12T10:30:00.002+02:00

This address was given by the Reverend Professor Peter Storey at the Cape Town solidarity service held while Ecclesia's appeal was heard. For those of you who have not followed her story I have two posts - here and here...

It's a long read but well worth reading... it left me deeply moved.

‘THERE COMES A TIME’
Address at a Service of Solidarity to mark the Trial of Rev. Ecclesia de Lange
by
Rev Prof Peter Storey DD.LLD.DHL
Rosebank Methodist Church, 8 February, 2010

There comes a time. It’s as simple as that.

1.
There comes a time when a new mind settles over the human family, when almost imperceptibly, people begin to think a new and different thought, making the old thought no longer thinkable and the world a kinder place to live in. One of our hymns - used often in the apartheid days - reminds us that to every person and nation- to all of us -there comes a ‘moment to decide.’ One of its lines is particularly apposite today:

‘New occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth,
they must upward still and onward, who would keep abreast of truth.’1

Jesus brought a new mind to our world. It included a radical hospitality of the heart that threatened a host of ancient shibboleths. Broken and needy people heard him gladly but his wide open love was resented by the religious of his day; for them it was more important to be right than to be good. They didn’t understand that being good becomes the ultimate right. His love was too big for them - too big for any of us. Even the way he was killed nailed his arms forever in wide embrace. After his Resurrection, his first Jewish followers struggled with the breadth of his welcome; his Holy Spirit had a relentless hospitality that left them punch-drunk. He seemed to want to include everyone. The Acts of the Apostles became the story of one barrier after another tumbling before this relentless hospitality.

The Holy Spirit is God’s promise to haunt us, to confront every prejudice of the devout, no matter how respectable or how carefully wrapped in dogma. Time and again since, the Spirit has taken the Church, sometimes gently, more often by the scruff of the neck, and shown us that what was once revered as an ancient good has become uncouth and untenable. The Spirit still has lessons to teach and we have lessons to learn. When we have listened, the Spirit has used the Church to be the conscience of the world – as some churches were used in the dark apartheid years – but when we have been obdurate and blind, then God has used the world to be the conscience of the Church. Right now is one of those times because, when it comes to how we treat people of different sexual orientations, the Constitution of South Africa seems to be more in tune with the mind of Christ than the attitudes of the Methodist Church.

So, let me say now that there will come a time when the Methodist Church of Southern Africa will declare its ministry open to persons in faithful same-sex relationship. It will honour and bless their love with the same blessing given to all marriages everywhere. That is as certain as day follows night. When this will happen, we do not know, but when it does, it will not be primarily because of Constitutions or grand declarations; it will be because of the courage and faithfulness of people like Rev.Ecclesia de Lange and her spouse Amanda. Alan Walker says, ‘Always advance comes by a man here, a woman there, being faithful in a particular situation to a great truth.’ Ecclesia, your simple words of witness have moved us deeply. You have said:

‘I desire to serve Jesus. I desire to be true to myself. I desire to minister within the Methodist Church of Southern Africa with integrity and to be faithful to God’s call on my life …’

What could be more simple, or more honourable? But we know strong forces resist this simple answer to God’s call. You have also said:

‘I have reached the point where I can no longer be silent. I have come to see that it is better to be rejected for who I am than to be accepted for who I am not …’

I wonder if you know how close those words are to the words of Anne Hutchinson, put on trial by the 17th Century Puritans of New England for being a Quaker. As she exited the church where the trial was held, she said: ‘Better to be cast out of the church than to deny Christ’

Which is why … there comes a time …

The Holy Spirit has waited long enough. It is time for the Church to recognize, repudiate and reject what William Sloane Coffin calls its ‘last respectable prejudice’2 - homophobia. If that is too much to digest all at once, then the time has come for at least a full place at the table for people with a new and different mind. As a well-wisher wrote to Ecclesia, ‘Gay ministers are not going to go away and more of us will want to be married3.’ So today we are here to say to those who differ from us, ‘Hold your views if you must, but we are not prepared to see one more person – this person - sacrificed on the altar of wrongful exclusion.’

2.
Before going further, because this gathering is not just about opinions, but about real people who have been - are being - sacrificed, we must make confession:

Some years back I was speaking at a conference on inclusiveness in a church in Lancing, Michigan. The day was enriched by a magnificent choir – the Lancing Gay Men’s Choir. As he introduced their first item, the Choir Director said that he had had to work very hard to persuade most of his singers to agree to perform in a church. Too many of them had been hurt by the churches they had grown up in. He then apologized for being late. At the last minute, he said, when it came to actually passing through the church doors, two or three of his choir had simply frozen. They couldn’t take that step. The trauma of what they had suffered at the hands of the church was just too much. ‘So, we’re short of a few voices today,’ he said. ‘We apologise.’

But it is we, the church, who must apologise. This apology must be a wide one, embracing every person who has been hurt, rejected, excluded and wounded by the Christian Church because of his or her sexual orientation. It must be deep, reaching down into centuries of wrong. The church’s long compromise with slavery, our blind acceptance of racism, our stubborn exclusion of women from leadership and ordination - these are sins from which we have had to be delivered, but John Cobb would remind us that in this particular, we may have done worse: whereas in most forms of suppression the church has given at least some support to the oppressed, in the case of homosexual persons, the church has been the leader in the oppression4. I confess this sin on behalf of my church - the Methodist Church of Southern Africa today. We stand in need of forgiveness – from our God and from those we have hurt.

Ecclesia and Amanda, I see your action, which has brought us together today, as a gift: it is an opportunity for the Church I love and serve to right a great wrong.

3.
Sadly … though I pray it will do so, I fear it may not. There are many reasons for this, but I want to lift up just one. It takes clear vision and great courage to recognize and reverse a centuries-old, deeply rooted prejudice. It takes an even greater leap of bravery and conviction to repudiate what has been given to us as sacred teaching and to declare that, ‘time has made that teaching uncouth. We need to move on from it.’

I recall the electric moment at the Rustenburg Conference of 1990 when Prof. Jonker of Stellenbosch Kweekskool, made his historic apology on behalf of the Dutch Reformed Churches for their collaboration with the wrongs of apartheid. We knew that his courageous turn-around would bring difficulties for his church, but we had no idea how great. The backlash was ferocious, and one of the most common protests was from devout Dutch Reformed members who accused their leaders of betrayal : ‘You are the ones who taught us that apartheid was Biblical, moral and Christian. How dare you suddenly change your minds, making sinners of us all?’ You will recall that Prof. Johann Heyns, who shared with us in the writing of the Rustenburg Declaration, was assassinated soon after. If some of us are tempted to denigrate those who cannot agree with us, we need to pause and remember how hard it is to abandon a life-long prejudice, especially when you’ve been told that God shares that prejudice too. And lest any of us ‘straight’ supporters here be tempted to self-rightousness in our critique of more conservative Christians, perhaps we ought to recall that most of us held similar views once, and our journey to greater openness doesn’t makes theirs any easier.

I hope that we will stay in conversation with those who differ from us. Past experience tells us that a way forward may be found – together. Remember those words from another time and another struggle, written by black and white Methodists after Obedience ’81?

‘We have experienced how hard it is to abandon long-held prejudice and long-felt bitterness. But we have seen God work this miracle in us. It happened because we continued to search for each other even at our time of deepest division and despair.’5

4.
So, there is hope, but hope is not enough: there is also urgency, because … there comes a time.

The Methodist Church of Southern Africa has acknowledged that we are divided between two opinions. That is true. The difference can’t be papered over:
Those who defend the closed door cannot open it without believing they betray Scripture.
Those who have opened the door cannot close it without believing we betray Jesus, the Lord of Scripture.

Our minds are unlikely to meet soon and the Methodist Conference has therefore invited us to ‘journey together’ in a way that ‘both respects and holds in tension differing views among our ministers and people.’6 Well and good, but if this journey is to have integrity there is one important condition: the same rules must apply to both travellers on the road. Our Church cannot claim to respect our views, and then punish those who, like Ecclesia, live out those views in practice. Holding the conversation open must not be another way to keep the doors of Christian marriage and Ordination for married gay people slammed shut.

Because there comes a time …

Let me say this very directly to our friends who differ from us: we will be patient in debate but no longer in suffering. You must understand that your opinion has real-life consequences for colleagues who we have come to love and honour. The pain and rejection they suffer is inflicted by the opinion you defend. Hold onto it if you will, but we cannot let you hurt people anymore. ‘‘There comes a time,’ said Martin Luther King Jr., when the cup of endurance runs over.’7

To our bishops and spiritual leaders, let me say this: Your task is not easy: in this matter you preside over a divided church. In the days of apartheid our leaders faced similar divisions, but while they wrestled with difficult debates, they were crystal clear about what was right and what was wrong - that the most damnable thing about apartheid was that it hurt people for something they could never change – the color of their skins – and for that alone it stood condemned in the councils of God. That was the bottom line. The rest was detail.

Today, we long for you to lead. You do not have to wait for any Conference to say what is right and what is wrong. We long to hear you declare lovingly and firmly that our beloved church cannot and will not any longer reject gay people for something they have no power to change. Please lead us. Let no more Ecclesia’s suffer. It would be a glorious day if at this time, because of your lead, God’s Ecclesia, God’s called people, were able to spread wide our arms and our hearts before the Holy Spirit had to prize them open.

There comes a time … and the time is now.

Simon’s Town, February 2010.

Notes:
1. ‘Once to every man and nation,’ James Russell Lowell, MHB 1933, No 898.
2. William Sloane Coffin, Homophobia, the Last Respectable Prejudice, the 1997 Schooler Institute Lecture, Methodist Theological School in Ohio (unpublished).
3. E-mail from Rev.Suzanna Bates, British Methodist Church, 14 December, 2009
4. Ibid. Quoted by Coffin
5. The Charter of Obedience ’81, adopted by the most representative gathering of Methodists ever held in SA – Auckland Park, 1981
6. MCSA Yearbook 2008, p81, para 2.5.1
7. Martin Luther King Jr, Why We Can’t Wait, Signet Books, 1963/4, p.82

How good is your gaydar?

2010-02-11T10:29:00.002+02:00

I'm a keen fan of the Graham Norton Show. He's funny, irreverent and sharp as a tack. He's also as camp as row of tents and his guests and audience always look they're having a good gay ol' time while he talks about nonsense.

The other night was especially fun. He had Joan Rivers on the show and a British actor whose name I've forgotten. They decided to test their "gaydar" on a bunch of audience members (and got it wrong mostly - damn emo's).

Now I know that not everyone who reads this blog is acquainted with all things gay so I think it's important to define a gaydar. Some know it as an internet site where you can meet other gay men for, ahem, bonding. But it's roots go back further. You won't find it in the Oxford English dictionary yet so I'll attempt my own definition.

A gaydar (usually possessed by gay men and women fondly named "fag hags") is a siren (distinguishable only to the person gifted with a gaydar) which yells loudly when a person who is homosexual enters their proximity. A gaydar could be so well evolved that a gay person can be spotted without even being seen (although we can not be sure if it's gay men's fondness for Aramis that gives them away).

Now I have a terrible gaydar. In order for me to realise that you are gay you have to be snogging another man or have plucked your eyebrows to a thin sliver to show off your new eyeliner. Mine just never evolved. Perhaps the only thing the ex-gay ministry got right.

A gay man without a gaydar is hugely disappointing and disadvantageous. In fact, some might say it's a disability. I've probably missed out on so much...

So I thought I'd test your gaydar. Below are a few pics. Tell me which of these two is gay...

What's in a name?

2010-02-01T13:21:00.005+02:00

FJ and I went to Home Affairs to book our legal civil union (which will be on a different day to our ceremony with family and a few friends). I won't give the day away, only a few know... because we want our ceremony day to be the one that gets celebrated even though I'll be able to wear a ring on my wedding finger from a different day.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaannnyyyyyyyyyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy

The Home Affairs booking was interesting, and I suspect the legal ceremony will be one of those moments where I'll be struggling not to laugh.

Let's face it - their offices are foul. There's no other word to describe it. Dingy, smelly, heartless and as depressing as a Sylvia Plath poem. As soon as I left I felt the need for a good shower with a product that had something cleansing like hydrochloric acid in it. FJ asked what we should wear for the Home Affairs union and I'm not sure he took me seriously when I suggested overalls.

The lady who took the booking, though, was great and seemed to really enjoy booking the boys for their nuptials. We managed to see the lady who will do the legalities and she was frightening (she's the financial lady at Home Affairs and apparently loves marrying the gays - they're a lot more fun than "normal people - we've been told). She was very disappointed that FJ and I were retaining our own surnames (I didn't even know we could change names because of the union). FJ and I have discussed it. We would rather create a mutual name than take one of our own so one idea was that we combine our surnames in some way. Now I won't mention our surnames on here (for FJ's sake) but the only real combination of our names that works is so gay-sounding that when you say it you have to say the last syllable in a higher pitch than the rest and snap your fingers in front of you as you say it. *A spin is optional.

You see, the winning combination would make me:

Clive van der Cher *snaps fingers while saying last syllable in a higher pitch*

Now I can't possibly expect FJ to walk up to his farming fraternity and say: "Hi there, I'm FJ van der Cher" while squeaking the last syllable and clicking his fingers in the air. For those of you who have met him, you'll know how ludicrous this sounds.

So we'll stick with our own names. But the reality is - we'll be married.

Li'l ol' me... married....

Who would've thought?

Gay wedding check-list 1

2010-01-28T10:26:00.004+02:00

So after working through a wedding magazine's checklist and the then-realised dire need for a gay checklist, I decided to draw a few up. Here is the first.

How to ensure people know they're at a gay wedding

1. Organise Christians to stand in the parking lot with signs saying "God hates fags". You know you're cool when you have protesters.

2. Have a celebrity at the wedding. It doesn't have to be a real celebrity, someone dressed as one while lip-syncing to a song will do.

3. Have feathers. Everywhere. Nothing says gay like feathers.

4. Do not have candles on the tables. With the amount of cologne and hairspray in the room, people will be set on fire.

5. Ensure the MC clearly explains where guests sit during the ceremony. Friends and family of the top on the left, friends of the bottom on the right. Versatile couples shouldn't have a centre aisle...

6. Make sure you have a song to walk down the aisle to. It has to be Madonna or your wedding will be disastrous. People expect you to play the Queen. Do not use an ABBA track. You want to build up to the faaaaaaaaaabulousness slowly. Just saying.

7. Weep. Gays cry. And everyone else will. Nothing says a fantastic wedding more than smudged mascara.

8. Do not get drunk. Your parents are already traumatised. They do not need to see you in full flap.

9. Do not let the best man get drunk, especially if he's giving a speech. Your parents are already traumatised and don't need to know about how many people you've slept with.

10. Make sure you invite rich people, even if you hardly know them. They'll buy expensive presents.

Full speed ahead... check

2010-01-27T15:11:00.006+02:00

Well, we're full speed ahead to a good ol' gay civil union. First of Feb will bring on the three month mark and according to the bridal magazines, that's when things start reaaaaaaaaaaaallllyy kicking in...

So let's see where we're at for the three month mark according to the mag I have:

Choose and order wedding rings... check
Choose music for the ceremony... no need, we're gay so the music chooses us... *strikes a pose*
Start dancing lessons..... Seriously? Dancing lessons? How hard is it to click my fingers above my head while I lip-sync?
Confirm your catering... check. Nibbly nits all round.
Confirm your floral arrangements... sheesh, with the amount of gay people there the flowers will probably be arranged before each course.
Make any necessary personal appointments. Hmmmm, now what could this mean? See a psychic to check if I'm making the right decision? Ah, it's implying cosmetic surgery. Plan to have every hair lasered and every wrinkle botoxed to hell and back so that you look like Robert Pattinson on the day. Clever...
Choose a dry cleaner to take your gown to after the day. Seriously? I need to wear a gown?
Select speechmakers for your reception. Check. I will speak and thereafter everyone else will speak about how faaaaaaaaaaabulous I am...
Arrange any insurance policies you may need. They clearly know the kind of people that will be at the wedding.
Trial make-up and hair with your veil. Okay, people we really need a gay wedding magazine. They clearly don't realise we've been testing hair and make-up since we could lift our arms.

Seriously people... how hard is this going to be? We put on suits. Everyone rocks up. They give us gifts. We give them food and then we work at spending the rest of our lives together.

Surely it's that simple...

Definitely need a gay wedding checklist....

Nice...

2010-01-25T15:05:00.004+02:00

It's nice when a family you were once terrified to reveal your (deviant) sexuality to are now all excited when they receive your wedding invite.

It's nice.

It's nice when the very-same family even ask how they can help and what part they will play.

It's nice.

It's nice when they get jealous that the one is more involved in the ceremony than the other.

It's nice.

It's nice when it's about me.

It's nice.

Very nice...

Haiti and God

2010-01-21T10:41:00.006+02:00

I've written nothing about Haiti but have read many responses to the awful experience they have been through. I have read three categories of responses, and these are responses from Christians. You see, a natural disaster like this makes us immediately look at our picture of God, or reflects it in our response. It is, after all, even called an act of God by many, and most definitely by those in insurance who uses these so-called God-acts to get out of paying.

The three responses I've tracked down have been:

It's apocalyptic. It's a sign we're nearing end-times and God is reminding us of that. Some go further to say that God has punished Haiti for it's witchcraft, much like he did those awful homosexuals in Sodom and the horrible people who were nasty to Noah.
Why God? Why have you allowed this to happen? You confuse us, but we trust that you have a bigger picture in mind. That seems to be the main response amongst the blogs I read who have responded in writing to the tragedy.
The third says let's not ask God why, but let's ask God what we can do. How can we show his love in this devastation.

I'm more of a number two kinda guy. Number one is puerile. And people have been screaming end-times since hu-person-ity learnt to scream. It's not a sign of the end-times. The world may end, but I think an earthquake in Haiti is not a sign of the end-times. Just like the Thai Tsunami wasn't. I could go on and on. And the punishment thing, well that's just laughable. And presents your picture of God in a way that reflects my picture of the devil.

The third response is a plausible one. People springing into action to help other people is never to be scoffed at and I have huge respect to all those who have dropped what they are doing to help the people affected in this. God in action, I'm all for.

But I want to spend time on the second. It's a question we can't answer for certain. No one knows why this happened. And why God allowed it, and why he has allowed it since creating the planet. I know some may say it's because of Adam and Eve and the fall of person-kind, but I seriously don't see God as the kind of God who is still punishing us for Eve and Adam's apple-eating session. He created us with the possibility to sin after all. He gave us choice and cursed us when we used it? Not really my picture of God.

The answer I get when I look at the tragedy... perhaps this God who we think is so active in the world isn't actually so concerned with us. Perhaps He just created a system and left it to its evolutionary devices. It's an imperfect creation, and perhaps He went onto something bigger and better. Perhaps He doesn't even exist at all.

Perhaps.

Why else would He let this happen?

I don't know. I don't know if there is a God but I choose to live my life as if there is. I'll never know the answer while I'm alive. But I what I do know, is that all that counts is what I do during my time on this earth.

Ecclesia part two

2010-01-21T09:41:00.005+02:00

The last post received a number of responses, both on my blog and via e-mail. i appreciate the comments and a large number of that was support for people who are gay and lesbian to be included in the life of the church.

One important comment reminded us that at the heart of this is a woman who loves God trying to find her way in a world or institution she wants to belong to while being authentic and true to who she is and her beliefs.

Her story was published on the Facebook group and I thought it fitting to copy it here for others to read who may not be a part of the group. So much of her story echoes mine and thousands (if not hundreds of thousands) of others who have attempted to be Christian and honest about their sexuality. Here it is... hopefully this will help to heal.

Ecclesia's story…

I desire to serve Jesus. I desire to be true to myself. I desire to minister within the Methodist Church of Southern Africa (MCSA) with integrity and be faithful to God’s call on my life. This has not been easy. My journey has been complex and I would like to share some of my story with you.

During my late teens I came to the conclusion that I am a lesbian. I realized that this discovery would not be acceptable to my family or church and so I concealed it. I tried to fit in by being in heterosexual relationships, appearing to be normal and acceptable to the community. However, my ability to pretend to be heterosexual did not last and it wasn’t long before others found out about my sexual orientation. I was told in no uncertain terms that I can not be Christian and lesbian. My family relationships and support system were shattered. The Church’s stance on homosexuality sent a clear message of rejection to me which forced me to leave the Church. The pain and loss was immense.

Several years later I had an encounter with God that made me return to the Church. I knew that God loved and accepted me and I renewed my commitment. I then set out to find a Church. It did not take me long to discover the official stance of the Church was unchanged on same-sex-relationships. At the time the only way for me to be included in the community was either to deny my sexual orientation and live a life of secrecy or live a life of celibacy.

Seeing that my faith was very important to me and to stop the fear and pain of being rejected, I tried to conform by attending several support groups and going for counselling. I was also part of an ex-gay ministry (for recovering gay people) for several years. However none of these efforts changed my sexual orientation. In order to obey the church’s teaching, I lived in denial of who I was and I settled for a life of celibacy and secrecy. The suppression of the truth enhanced my pain and steered me into a deep hole of discontent and depression. Even during this period of denial, I at times, fearfully worried and wondered about what would happen should I meet someone and fall in love. Would I still be able to deny my sexuality, my need for love as well as my desire to give love and to live with a life companion?

My relationship and love for Jesus deepened over the years that followed, I heard and then responded to God’s call to ministry by candidating for the ministry within the MCSA. My whole being was occupied, stimulated and challenged by the Theological and Ministerial training. I will be for ever grateful to the MCSA for the wide expansive education given to me. It was here, during my theological studies that I encountered another perspective on the issue of homosexuality that challenged the traditional stance within the Church. With much research and self-evaluation I discovered new ways of interpreting scripture and found a new way of coming to terms with who I am as a child of God.

I learned that when one reads Scripture in context, the traditional verses that have been used to condemn homosexuality are in all probability not referring to a faithful, loving, committed, respectful relationship between two people of the same sex. I learned that by using the Wesleyan quadrilateral (Scripture, experience, reason and tradition) that my sexuality is a gift from God. I learned that the Church has had a sad history of being sure who to exclude and then to repent later (exclusion of women to the ordained ministry, apartheid). I also learned that at the heart of God is an all inclusive love which is far wider than I can ever comprehend.

Through this learning curve my relationship with Jesus found a new intensity as I embraced the acceptance of God’s love for me…just as I am. Afresh I realized that “nothing” could separate me from God’s love and acceptance. I have also come to a new understanding that my sexuality is part and parcel of who God created me to be - and that God created someone beautiful. Indeed the Gospel of Christ became very good news for me! This knowledge has brought me profound confidence and peace, yet accompanied by much tension about my reality and the traditional stance of the MCSA. Listening to debates and colleagues comment on the issue has been a fearful and painful experience within the MCSA. Numerous times I have wanted to stand-up and say “this is me you are speaking about; speak to me”. However, the lack of “a safe space” and the fear of rejection have kept me in my seat.

In the mean time, by God’s grace I have met a wonderful person, Amanda. In this relationship I discovered that by denying my sexuality, I denied a significant part of my self, my God given means of connecting and loving another human being. This relationship has brought us both much joy and pleasure. We offer one another companionship where we are committed to being respectful, faithful, caring and trustworthy. Our desire has been to honour God and so we are celebrating our love relationship by getting married in Dec 2009. The context and sensitivity of the same-sex debate within the MCSA made me afraid to come out and break the silence. Hence the soul destroying silence, instead of inviting my Church family to celebrate with me.

By God’s grace my immediate family embraced and supported me in my journey of coming to terms with disclosing my sexual orientation and my marriage with Amanda. I am also grateful for the acceptance and support of several colleagues and friends during this journey who have helped me to come to this place.

I have reached the point where I can no longer be silent. I have come to see that it is better to be rejected for who I am than to be accepted for who I am not.

I know that, by sharing with you my story I take a huge risk. I am also concerned for the Churches that I serve. However, I am of the conviction that my relationship and journey with Christ has brought me to this place, which requires me to speak and live in the truth, trusting that this alone will bring freedom. By denying my sexuality and my marriage I am denying who I am and who Jesus wants me to be.

I am not afraid, as I know that God is with us (with me, Amanda and the Church at large).

It is my desire to serve God in the MCSA and to be accepted for who I am. I understand that we are not all of the same mind on this matter and I pray that God will help us to become an …

“… inclusive body of Christ that celebrates diversity in all its facets of religious, social and organisational being…to pastor and welcome all people irrespective of race, social class, disability, sexual orientation etc. [For] to single out any one of these for a special dispensation of salvation would be religiously spurious as well as an affront to our values of human respect, dignity and equality.” (MCSA 2008 Yearbook & Directory, pg 18) and affirm that “we will seek to be a Christ-honouring community: a. celebrating the rich diversity of those called to follow Jesus, honouring the sacred worth of all people and practising our Wesleyan heritage of warmth, welcome and hospitality; b. recognising the authority of Scripture and nothing that in our quest for understanding, there is no one, monolithic and incontrovertible interpretation of it; c. Acknowledging that there are therefore some issues upon which there may never be total unanimity within the church and upon which we must “agree to differ” without reducing our respect for, and trust of, one another.” (MCSA 2008 Yearbook & Directory, pg 81)

I have survived the hardest part already, which is self-acceptance. I made it through – not broken but more confident and complete than I ever was. And I want to share that with the people I love and live with and those I serve within the MCSA. However people react, by God’s grace I will respond to them with love.

Yours in Christ,

Ecclesia
Advent 2009

Oh Church by Carlo Carretto

How baffling you are, oh Church, and yet how I love you! How you have made me suffer, and yet how much I owe you! I should like to see you destroyed, and yet I need your presence. You have given me so much scandal and yet you have made me understand sanctity. I have seen nothing in the world more devoted to obscurity, more compromised, more false, and yet I have touched nothing more pure, more generous, more beautiful. How often I have wanted to shut the doors of my soul in your face, and how often I have prayed to die in the safety of your arms.

No, I cannot free myself from you, because I am you, although not completely. And where should I go? To build myself another Church?

But I could only build one with the same defects, because they are mine; defects which I have inside myself. And if I built one, it would be my church, no longer the Church of Christ. I am old enough to understand that I am no better than other people.

If you are in south Africa and want to support Ecclesia and it's consequential ripple effects in the gay community then the following mail I received may interest you:

This is to inform you that Ecclesia's appeal against her verdict and sentence will be heard on Monday the 8th of February at 10:00 (GMT +2) at the Bedfordview Methodist Church.

We are appealing for a strong show of support for Ecclesia in Bedfordview and at main centres across the country on that day. The aim of the show of support is in solidarity with Ecclesia and to call for her to be found not guilty and to be reinstated in her current position. We are appealing to you to commit yourself for one hour to attend one of the events and to bring a friend or family member along with you. We would like you to wear black or dark clothes with a rainbow flag or a pink triangle on your lapel. At Bedfordview especially we would like a large group to gather outside the venue for an hour in a dignified and peaceful manner to show their support for Ecclesia.

We are calling for volunteers from across the country (and even internationally) who would be willing to coordinate one of the events. The event that you coordinate may take the form of a prayer vigil in a Church or a show of support outside a Church. We will produce the wording for the pamphlet that can be copied and handed out at the various venues. Please inbox me if you are willing and able to be one of the coordinators and I will place the event on the events board.

Please publicise the event in your area as widely as possible. Please ensure that Ecclesia's issue is raised and spoken about in your particular sphere of influence. Please invite all your friends and family to join our Facebook Group. Please share Ecclesia's issue with those who are not on Facebook by emailing them the details, by posting it on your blog and by talking about it. Continue to hold Ecclesia and Amanda in your thoughts and in your prayers.

With your love and support we are confident that Ecclesia's appeal on the 8th will be successful!

Ecclesia

2010-01-13T09:42:00.003+02:00

I'm not sure if any of you have heard about the controversy brewing in the Methodist Church at the moment. I write this feeling a bit sad about the situation and thought I would share it. I have been following it on facebook and while I don't know the minister involved personally I feel a kinship as her journey could so easily have been mine.

Ecclesia is an ordained Methodist minister serving in a church in the Western Cape. She has, by all accounts, proven herself as a competent minister with a love for the people she ministers to and the God she feels called to serve as a full-time pastor. But, she is a lesbian. She has been involved with a woman for a while and at the end of last year she and her partner entered into a civil union to affirm their partnership legally.

She was then placed under suspension pending a disciplinary hearing after she was charged by her superintendent minister for contravening the disciplines of the Methodist Church of South Africa (MCSA).

The hearing happened last night, while a group of us took part in a silent prayer vigil (some at the church where the hearing was happening), praying for wisdom, strength and God's love to prevail whatever the outcome.

The verdict was delivered a half hour after the trial and Ecclesia was suspended from the Methodist Church. She has no station to minister and will be without income until the Church has resolved the homosexual "issue" and decided on whether gay and lesbian people have a place in their Church, more specifically as leaders in the church.

Now, I obviously have an opinion in this.

I understand that Ecclesia broke the rules. She works for a religious institution (for want of a better phrase) that has ruled that ministers may not enter into a same-sex civil union until the church has decided if gay people are actually really welcome in the church. They may say that gay people are welcome to attend services on a Sunday, but at this stage gay people are not welcome to play an active role in the life of the church. So, in essence, we can add to their numbers (and help them play affirmative) but not to their direction and mission to actively work with others as they journey in relationship with Christ.

The cruel part of the verdict is that they have offered, what seems to be, a glimmer of hope - that she will be able to be a minister when they make a decision on gays and, obviously, only if that decision is pro-gay. The reality is that they have cut her off from the church with no income to wait for a decision that will probably still take a number of years to debate and finalise. Personally I find this cruel and inhumane.

I remember a minister going through a divorce in the Methodist church. He was suspended with full pay, given counselling and allowed back into the fold. I've seen it with a few ministers. I've seen Ray McCauley (granted he is not a Methodist minister but an apparently religious man) marry his second wife who had a few husbands before him.

And the church wonder why we cry foul.

I understand she broke the rules. But what you have, in essence, done, dear wise ministers of the church, is ostracised a group of people who are longing for a place in your community. Instead of taking a legalistic approach, you could have offered at least some support so that God's love could prevail, not the laws of a church.

I have looked at the facebook wall and these kind of responses sadden me. And I hope people from the Methodist church read them, because this is no longer just about Ecclesia. It is about a group of people who never chose their sexuality but want to live a life that is honest, transparent and open. Clearly you prefer repression, silence and dishonesty. Or maybe the back of the gays that are quite obviosuly giving you a headache right now.

These are a few of the responses:

Maybe religions should establish a motto along the lines of "challenge and we will damn you".... I gave up church a long long time ago, the continuous flow of double standards and hypocrisy just made me ill.

...we all "know" racism is a far worse crime than homophobia... why would they care about a bunch of "deviants" and "sinners" like us?

We are hurt and angered by the outcome of yesterday's hearing. God loves each one of us EQUALLY, who are these human beings to think that they can play GOD? How can they call themselves Christians if their hearts are so wrong? How can we have respect for a Church, if they show no respect towards us?????

This is exactly the reason why I don't want to go to church anymore! Incidentally I'm also a Methodist.

God is love. You know, the day I turned my back on the church is the day I came closer to God. How can any living being decide what God's understanding of love is.

What happened to Nelson Mandela's wonderful words at his inauguration: "Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land will again experience the oppression of one by another"? How is it not oppression to insist, simply because of sexual orientation, that people who love each other may not get married (or even "joined in ...a civil union") until the Church may or may not allow it ? What happened to the Church that once fought so bravely for Nelson Mandela to be able say those powerful words as President of a land that once reduced him to a 2nd class citizen?

This is an opportunity for the MCSA to resolve this internal conflict and do what is right - to recognize our dignity and equality and our worthiness as people. A time to say - "more than 'tolerance' - we accept you and we love you as our equals

I could continue, but I do hope that the Methodist church see the significance in their decision. What you do to Ecclesia has ripple effects for a whole number of people who want to be an active part of the church, and as Ecclesia and a number of others (including myself) have proved, we have a lot to offer and a deep love for God that we fight daily to maintain.

You tell us we are not welcome. We believe in a God who says "come all". We will not keep quiet until you are open to that. But until then, I personally will not set foot through one of your doors.

Monday has a silver lining...

2010-01-11T14:49:00.006+02:00

Monday and I have resumed our fight to the death once more and today it feels like Monday is winning. Monday usually wins, so that's nothing new. Monday's a lot bigger than me and has a lot more experience in defeating others than I do so I'm not ashamed of the defeat. I've worked out that (if all goes well and nothing CSI-like happens) then I have about 40 years left of challenging Monday. That's 2 080 more Mondays left to face. Next week makes it 2 079 and counting...

I will win yet.

Monday does have a potential silver lining though. On Friday I returned home to FJ sitting in a darker than normal house and a look of concern on his face. It wasn't a look I had seen before - it was a mixture of concern, dread and sorrow. Like he was going to tell me devastating news that would have me howling in the corner throwing ash over myself while I whipped my back to a pulp. so naturally, seeing his dread I thought he was going to tell me that Shakira was releasing a new album. That always invokes the weeping in a corner look from me. Any singer who makes goat-giving-birth-like noises with a howl in between should not be allowed to record. Her and any of the South African idols.

Annnnnnyyyyywwwwwwwwaaayyyyy...

I saw the "you-ain't-gonna-like-this-look" face and put my bag down to sit next to FJ in the cold (well, it was warm, but I'm trying to be dramatic here) house. He clasped my hand and said something under his breath.

FJ: *muffle whispered gobbly-de-gook*
Rambler: It's that Shakira isn't it?
FJ:(with an even more sorrowful look) No, it's not...
Rambler: *gasping* Worse than Shakira?
FJ: *nods*
Rambler: (ripping shirt with bare hands) NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (imagine it in slow motion if you will)
FJ: Settle...
Rambler: Worse than Shakira? Gareth Cliff has been given a second season?
FJ: *looks at Rambler oddly and shrugging...*
Rambler: What then? Nothing can be worse...
FJ: *muffle whispered gobbly-de-gook*
Rambler: *sounding hysterical* okay this is bad... what is it? Another ABBA cover done by Amor? What? What? WHAT? *ripping rest of shirt off*
FJ: the DSTV is broken...

There was no reason to live after that. I spent an hour on the flooring lashing my bare back (I had ripped my shirt, remember?) with a rolled-up dish-towel while contemplating a weekend of having to entertain myself with things like talking, reading, walking the dogs, planning a wedding and seeing friends for coffee. The vicious thoughts were beaten out of me. I refused to move from the corner (I call it the wailing wall and use it often when attention-seeking. As one does.) and gnashed my teeth in hysteria until FJ trotted over. Well, he doesn't really trot. He's more of a determined I'll-fix-anything-because-I'm-a-farmer kind of guy and strutted over. No, strut is wrong. That's too John Travolta (by the way, have you heard Olivia Newton-John is going to play a lesbian icon). He, um, walked over and cooly whispered in my ear.

FJ: I spoke to the people in the estate and it's the communal dish which is broken. It will be fixed on Monday.

If it isn't fixed by the time I'm home, then I may become really (I mean, really) hysterical.

Hope you all had/have a fabulous Monday! Only 2079 to go (for me!)

Response to concern part two

2010-01-07T14:10:00.003+02:00

My blogpost Response to concern still receives comments since it was written last July. I think it's because it's the first listed gay-Christian post on the right - and those comments have often given me fuel for thought. One comment made me quite angry - it's still there (imploring the gays to change and begging us to listen to him/her) - and some others have made me feel supported and encouraged. The gay posts have always been to create dialogue, so I accept other people have different opinions. I just hate the attitude that says "I am right and you are wrong". A book called God is Not Great (while not something I buy into) does explore the reality that fundamental religious thinking has been the cause of a lot of pain in this world. Your way of reading the bible is different to mine. We believe in the same Holy Spirit so I'll let Him guide me, just like He does you (okay?).

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnyyyywwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaayyyyy...

That was not meant to be the point of this post (but I have to keep the name Rambler alive somehow!). The point is that I received a (very close-to-home) comment on the post very recently. It was one of those comments that take your breath away because of how personal and honest it is, and how illuminating it is to the consequences of your actions. In this case, mine. A quick summary to contextualise the comment - I was a youth pastor (in my twenties) at a Methodist Church for just over three years. I loved it (still miss it) and was the time I was fighting myself the most. Being gay and a pastor were apparently incongruous and I was doing everything I could to fight it and change it.

Here's the comment (edited slightly):

Rambler, the world is very small. A friend of a friend of a friend on twitter mentioned you - had a squizz, and wallah. I knew you back in your days at [the Methodist church]. Had I known then, what you were struggling with, I would have tried to listen. I was kind of annoyed really at the time - you constantly denied being gay. I was annoyed, because you were lying [discovered this later]. The lying annoyed me more than anything. I wish I had known of your angst and worry, so I could have helped. People who TRULY believe, and who are TRUE Christians, love ALL...no matter what. A friend recently got ex-communicated from his church, because he was divorced. Yes, while this is not part of the "plan", how is that loving each other as God has loved you? Naah. Loving God with all you have is what is important - he really is the only one that can "judge" - and I believe his judgement is based on your "good person-ness" and your love for Him, not your sexual preference! What some straight people do behind closed doors is FRIGHTENING.....they should be quivering :P

The youth ministry was a large one and the relationships I had with the teenagers (who I was hardly older than) were varied - some I met with often, while others were just part of the Sunday evening meetings (there were about 400 teenagers each Sunday). This comment made me sad because the last thing I wanted to do was lie to any of these guys who I really did love. If I wasn't in ministry I'm not sure about the kind of guy I would have become - I lived for Sundays.

That said, I'm not sure that I did lie. I don't recall denying being gay. I don't recall being asked outright. I remember people telling me that they thought I was gay when they met me and I would usually just smile and say I got that often (while having a full-blown internal panic attack). The reality was that I didn't believe I was gay. I was going through the ex-gay ministry and part of my healing was accepting I wasn't gay but sexually broken and struggling with same-sex attractions. Saying I was gay meant I was living the gay lifestyle, which I was trying my best not to. So I don't think I was lying. I wasn't open about it - being open about it would have meant my job would be at risk (to this day I would be denied should I apply to be a Methodist minister, even though for a long while it was all I wanted to be, because I'm gay) and that people might be afraid to have their teenagers in close proximity to me for fear of me doing something or "converting" them. My openness about my sexuality and struggle with it would have meant that God would have been lost. He was the focus. Sharing my struggle would have meant that that would shift - somethingI would never have wanted.

I apologise to anyone who was hurt by what they perceived as me lying. I wish I could have been more open - believe me. I long for a day where people in the church can be open about their sexuality and their struggles without any judgement - somehow it seems silly to be longing for it when, in essence, it should be what the church is best at.

I recently heard of a friend I studied with who committed suicide. I never knew him well, and only heard later that part of his struggle that led to his death was his struggle with being gay and being in his particular religious context. That broke my heart and is why I write this blog. Not only to stop people who are coming to terms with their sexuality from harming themselves to avoid it, but to stop people hurting those who need to accept something they never chose.

I've said a lot in this (and I want to thank Cazpi for being so honest in her comment). I also want to say that while people were annoyed with me when they heard, I was annoyed by the way it was discovered I was gay by people in the church and they way it spread as gossip does. I understand it - I wish I had been closer to confront it and chat people through it. I would hate to think that people would have left the church thinking I was a hypocrite or had lied to them. I would do it very differently if I had the chance to. Hopefully this blog is a small step in healing the hurt that was caused.

Life-changing books

2010-01-05T14:13:00.004+02:00

I recently asked (via my Twitter and Facebook statuses [statii?!??!]) about books that have changed people's lives. Not just great reads, but books that have significantly reshaped a person's perspective, worldview, attitude or lifestyle significantly. They don't have to be even be fantastically written books - just significant. I asked that the Bible be excluded as that was a tad too obvious for some to list. The responses were amazing.

If I had to answer I think I'd have to say the first book I ever read about being ex-gay. I don't want to name it because I don't want to lead people there, but it changed my life from that moment on.

Another has to be The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. I've never had a book challenge me to the core like that. While it created crisis, I have to say that the journey back to finding God (a post on it's own) has been incredibly stimulating and engaging.

The third has to be The Diary of Anne Frank. It was probably the first "real" book I ever read as a youngster and I remember being horrified and intrigued by it. I reread it when visiting Amsterdam and finished it just before I visited the house. I then went to the Homomonument and reflected on how lucky I was to be alive in the time I was. (The Homomonument commemorates all gay men and lesbians who have been subjected to persecution because of their homosexuality and has one part of the triangle pointing to the home of Anne Frank.)

The last has to be two children's books that I remember from my when I was a boy. Yes (and this is for cookie monster), they were so old that I read them off the walls in the cave I stayed in. The first two are by Oscar Wilde. The Nightingale and the Rose and The Happy Prince both moved me (still does when I read them) and ignited my passion for story-telling. The third is The Snow Goose by Paul Gallico. These are three books that shaped my childhood and made me love language and the power of words.

I thought I'd share some of the other favourites that emerged. I won't list them all - I got a string of responses (and some were just books that people really enjoyed).

The most mentioned was To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. I think it was a set book in schools and seems to have opened some to the reality of prejudice - especially in the context of apartheid South Africa. I confess I haven't read it, but will change that this year.

Some seem to have been moving because they were about other people's struggles with addiction - I Want My Life Back by Steve Hamilton and Smacked by Melinda Ferguson topped the list in that category. Another true story about people making tough decisions that was suggested was Expecting Adam by Martha Beck ("about a woman who chooses to carry a baby with Downs and how he changes her life").

Many were around faith. The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins was the most mentioned as was God is Not Great by Christopher Hitchens. The Prophet by Khalil Gibran was ground-breaking for some as was The Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith by Rob Bell. An interesting mention was Man, Myth and Magic: The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Mythology, Religion and the Unknown by Richard Cavendish.

A book that I don't know that got a few going was The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. It's one of the best-selling books ever. Hmmm, how ignorant am I?

A number of biographies and celeb-books made the list:

A Lotus Grows in the Mud by Goldie Hawn
Beside Myself: An Actor's Life by Antony Sher
My Lucky Stars: A Hollywood Memoir by Shirley Maclaine
Losing My Virginity by Richard Branson
Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiedis
A Golden Age: The Autobiography by Steve Redgrave and Nick Townsend

Some interesting books were on the list - these were suggested for various reasons. For some it inspired them to write, some were challenged to think differently about life or circumstances, others to live better. Here's the rest (in no particular order):

The Secret History by Donna Tartt
Was by Geoff Rymann
Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
Making History by Stephen Fry
The Seat of the Soul by Gary Zukav
Opening to Channel by Sanaya Roman
A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote
The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo by Stieg Larsson
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Big Stone Gap by Adriana Trigiani
The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
Tandia and The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay
A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle

I think it's a great list of really interesting books. Maybe you want to use these as a suggestion for something to read this year? Or maybe you want to comment and add your own significant books to my list.

As an aside, I've signed up to do the GLBT reading challenge so that should be fun. I found it on the Book Club Blog, which is worth following if you don't already...

Happy 2010

2010-01-05T10:30:00.002+02:00

2010 is finally here. The year so many have been looking forward to (or so it seems). I've had my Facebook and Twitter news feed jam-packed with how excited people are about the New Year. some have even named it (twenty-zen, plenty-ten and two thousand more men [clearly someone wanting more sex]). Last year was 2000 and mine, 2000-divine and 2000-sublime. Clearly it wasn't because most seemed to be glad to see the back of it. I am as positive about this year as I was about last year - it will be another year full of challenges, delights, achievements, good times and bad times.

Hang on a sec [this is where you insert the sound of a record scratching to a stop]...

I get married this year!

WOOO HOOOOO --- it's 2010 people!!!

Twenty zen! Plenty-ten! Two thousand and men! Um, one man...

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Glad to see the back of 2009...

Last day of work

2009-12-23T13:57:00.002+02:00

I know, I know... my blog has been as barren as a bowel after colonic irrigation... Forgive me (again!). Two magazines in a row went to print and my writing load has been insane. I found moments to pop on here, but have about 20 unfinished posts. I'll try get onto them at some stage.

I'm on leave from this afternoon (yay!) and at this stage it looks like I'm going to spend it in bed... two fever blisters and what feels like flu are attacking my body and need to be removed as soon as possible (preferably before I celebrate the birth of Jesus with the family).

I've decided to post more from now, and not try to make each post "epic"... it started feeling like a bit too much pressure. But hopefully I'll be back to form soon.

If I don't post before - have yourselves a fantastic Christmas!

Thanks for an awesome year!

Manto madness

2009-12-17T09:31:00.004+02:00

I don't often post about current affairs. I'm usually a "God doesn't hate fags" or "all things fabulous and frivolous" kinda guy, but Manto's death really got me thinking.

I was at Moyo yesterday, sipping on a daiquiri (as one does at Moyo) looking at all the people eating meat and thinking they really shouldn't because of all the methane.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnyyywayyyyy....

While sipping on the daiquiri I popped onto Twitter and saw the first tweet announcing the then-unconfirmed death of our former health minister Manto Tshabalala-Msimang. She has a rather "mixed legacy" (the term the media have cottoned onto) and is probably one of the most unpopular ministers we've ever had (no, people, Malema is not a minister). Her view and lack of real response to AIDS and HIV in a country needing real action were archaic, uneducated at best and, some might say, can be equated to a form of genocide.

So it seems natural that her death receive an emotional response - especially one expressing the anger at her inefficiency and, shall we say, stupidity. Gareth Cliff, a popular 5FM dj, is one of the most followed South Africans on Twitter and his response was met with agreement and horror. He said, "Manto is dead. Good. A selfish and wicked bungler of the lowest order. Rotten attitude and rancid livers - all three of them."

He sent a later tweet acknowledging the flack he got for the response, some of which I saw in my feed. At the same time I saw many agreeing with him. And, of course, the jokes started.

On the other hand, there are many who have a different response to her. Some claim her utterings on AIDS were misunderstood and some just say that she said what she did to support the President at the time (HIV doesn't cause AIDS, remember). They remember her as a stalwart of the struggle - a woman who fought hard for equal rights, especially for women.

A mixed legacy.

I'll be forthright and say that I had little respect for her as health minister, but I choose not to hurl insults at her in her death. I chose the same when Jackson died (and found the jokes about his potential paedophilia in heaven disgusting). While I have no respect for what I knew of her public profile, I will not insult her out of respect for those who loved her. I might not respect a person who dies but I respect loss. And I respect a family's need to grieve, whether I liked the person or not. So I choose to pay respect to those I don't know, who are sad to lose their mom, their granny and their friend.

I think that's how we should treat death. With respect. Insults are cheap when the person can't respond. Let's rather reflect on how to make sure our leaders don't repeat what she did and was allowed to do. But in death, no matter who's it is, show some class.

Thanks

2009-11-30T13:33:00.002+02:00

I was quite taken aback by the response to my last blog post. I wrote it from an emotional place, obviously, but never expected the emotional responses in return. I still haven't responded to the flood of comments, mails, smses and calls I received. Some of them were really beautiful and some were really heartfelt, but in all of them I felt encouraged. I also sensed that I wasn't alone in my journey. And that was good.

Over the weekend I tried to distance myself from the emotion and take a rational look at what i believe in. a few comments mentioned that this was the start of me discovering my own perception and view of God or a higher power. Some told me that I needed to believe in something, anything, as long as I believed.

I have been addressing what I called my "crisis of faith" from an intellectual place too. And I think it's fair that I bring that into the equation. I don't blame Barry's death for my faith-wavering. I blame silence. And from an intellectual place, authors like Richard Dawkins and Robert Wright make sense. The God of the bible is man-made, they say, and evolved into the biblical God, or the God worshipped by other religions.

I know faith is not meant to make sense, but taking a step away to look at what I believe in can not be harmful.

I will keep you posted when I am able to formulate a well-thought out response. But thanks for all the comments. I wish we could all sit around a cup of coffee and talk about this.

silence

2009-11-26T09:44:00.005+02:00

The last three months have been really strange for me. I've alluded to it in some of my previous posts and this morning I really felt the need to write about it. Let's call it another attempt at catharsis. I feel like I got a bit "lost" over the last few months. It started with some testing issues that I can't go into, but the breaking point came when Barry died. Somehow, and I had no idea it was happening at the time, the way I saw the world began to shift. Not in a "life is so unfair and I want to die" kind of way. Just a real sadness and a sense that my picture of the way we are expected to live our lives is different to the reality.

Barry was a minister, and an amazing man. I never kept in touch with him as often as I should have over the last few years, and that's something I regret, but the significant role he played in my life cannot be disputed. But I loved it when we spoke. And suddenly, he was silent.

Man, did I pray that he wouldn't be.

My first experience of religion was when I was a child. My mom was catholic and my dad is Methodist and as kids my brother and I were asked to choose which church we wanted to belong to. This meant very little to us; we had hardly spent any time in either so our frame of reference was limited. My brother took the lead and suggested we go to the Methodist church; I think he had friends that went there so knew it was cool. I remember this causing a bit of friction in our family, although I wasn't sure why. I took it to be my mom feeling rejected by her sons. So my first experience was a tad bitter.

We went to a large Methodist church that I eventually became a part of actively - to the point that I worked for the Church on a full-time basis. I loved it. And loved that my life was significant. People matter (as my friend and author Trevor Hudson says) and I could live that daily.

It was during this time that I met Barry and was the time of my life that I was most at battle with myself internally. I remember someone walking up to me during that time and offering to pray for me. I was quite taken aback by it - most people who knew me saw this gregarious (and slightly overweight) youth pastor who was always making jokes or singing. We sat down and he said "people see boldness when inside you cry". The tears streamed and I walked out thinking that I was free from this internal battle.

But the battle raged and was exhausting. I believed in a God who said he died for me. I loved a scripture that said he had my name written into the palm of his hands - the same palms that had nails driven through them (yes, I know it should be wrists but work with me you detail-types). This God promised to ease my burden and love me. Nothing could seperate me from his love, Paul wrote.

At the same time I was fighting (to the point of exhaustion) my attraction to men. I was petrified that someone would find out because it would mean that the one thing that God apparently hated within me would have me excluded. I was very aware that something could seperate me from his love, or at least that's what I was being told. I was fighting something I really felt no control over and had no choice in because admitting it meant exclusion and, at a base-level, unemployment.

I prayed. I fasted. I walked in victory, even though I wasn't victorious. I spoke my heterosexuality into being. I secretly joined ministries that said they offered Godly solutions. I stood on God's word (at times literally) screaming for some sense of relief, and I cried. I wanted to please God above all-else.

This wasn't a temporary quick thing. I went through this for years. I moved to Cape Town and continued my journey to being the man God wanted me to be. I prayed and prayed.

All I ever got in return was silence.

I experienced God through people. But those same people eventually excluded me from the Church and the community that I loved when I exposed my battle with my homosexualty and the fact that I wasn't seeing God's victorious hand in it. I assumed that the good came from God and the bad from humanity, but I question that now.

And when I joined the throngs begging God to let a man lost at sea be found and returned to his wife, the church he led and the two young kids who would never know him if he didn't walk in the door again, I received my usual response.

Silence.

I have been criticised when writing this blog about my attempts to be gay and a christian. I've always tried to respond from a place of strength and to allow people their opinions. Around the time of Barry's death a person left a comment on a past blog that negated my journey, and reminded me that I had no place in the kingdom of God because I love a man. I went home and prayed about it. And I received my usual response.

Silence.

I'm disillusioned by silence.

And I'm not sure that you who I thought was out there, really is.

And it breaks my heart.

And it frees me.

...

...

...

Silence.

Two weeks, I notice...

2009-11-25T15:26:00.005+02:00

Once again it's been a manic two weeks. I edit a political bi-annual publication that went to print on Monday and, gawd, has it been consuming. That all said, I do find it interesting to work on. Before this I was the kind of guy who know more about Helen Zille's botox than I did about policy, but things have shifted now. I'm meeting the heads of the country, sometimes even being called by them on the phone and getting to hear them speak about their way forward in South Africa. Stimulating stuff, I tell ya...

My free time, though, has been filled with my new favourite pastime - Singstar. I don't know why people go out when they can just stay inside on warm sunny days and sing into their Playstation microphones. There is nothing more satisfying than a computerised voice announcing your version of Miley as hit-artist worthy or that you version of Dancing Queen is so good you are a superstar. FJ and I wake up early to sing, and even found ourselves taking the mic's to friends over the weekend so we could sing after the roast they made us. The friend's were horrified at the prospect but after one song they were online ordering their own singstars to keep them going for the week.

I arrived at work on Monday morning and was totally hoarse. Everyone assumed I'd had a weekend filled with smoky nightclubs and late-night drinking. I never corrected them. Telling them I had spent the whole weekend screaming does your mother know that you're out just didn't seem appropriate.

FJ is also getting really good at it. He's always had aspirations to be a backing singer (?!?!?!) and this is a perfect outlet for him. And me. Especially since I've had aspirations to be Madonna (with clothes on) since I was 13 and need a backing singer in order to shine while I do a dance routine. And, unlike Britney, I just can't bring myself to lip-sync. Unless, I drink wine... but that's a blog post all on it's own.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy..

One month until Christmas... unlike Simply Mel I will only do my Christmas shopping the day before the gift needs to be handed over. If I attempt any pre-shopping I usually end up buying more for myself than others so I'll rather not make that mistake again. And the recession is over apparently, so I really do hope that the gifts I get are expensive. There is no longer a valid excuse...

It's just phase...

2009-11-09T15:51:00.003+02:00

I have been going through a rather odd phase. some may say it's an age thing. I choose not to believe those evil, evil people. Some may say it's the moon's cycle. I choose to slap people like that. Some may say, it's just what happens - we go through phases. Makes far more sense.

Well before you think this is a post that's not about me, let me expand.

Bad choice of words, because that's the first phase I'm in - one of expansion. When my 20-year high school reunion (insert scream here) was announced, I decided to make sure I looked as pretty as possible and started a vigorous gym regime. I joined the gorilla's in the pit and flung my three-kilo dumbbells around with the energy of a Jack Russell on diet pills. I never allowed the ogre next to me benchpressing his friend who was benchpressing weights at the same time to intimidate me. Feeling lean and pumped (for about three minutes after leaving gym) I started thinking that I could really show the fellow almost-40-year-olds I matriculated with that you didn't have to turn into a beer-guzzling oros man after leaving school.

I even started spinning. Which I loved. Who wouldn't? You wear tights and fling yourself around to gay music (except for the one instructor who thought playing 'Loslappie' was a scream). Spinning and flinging weights around were good. Were.

Then winter hit, and I suddenly found every excuse under the freezing sun not to go near the gym and to pile every carbohydrate into my mouth I could instead. Suffice to say that all my hard work and the one or two muscles I was actually starting to see when I stood in a certain position and in the right light, have disappeared into the same void my abs are.

I tried on a pair of shorts on the first sunny weekend and let's just say they wrapped themselves around me far more snuggly than they used to.

So my period of expansion must come to an end. I will no longer eat fries like a shark in a feeding frenzy and will try not to eat FJ's food while he isn't looking. I will return to the gorilla pit to fling the (let's up it to 5-kilo's shall we?) dumbbells, and will try fit into my cycling shorts that will probably make me look like I have boobs as my "tyre" rests on its waistband.

Another phase I'm going through is a vegetarian one. I'm trying not to eat anything that has lived previously(except for fish - man can not live without sushi). I have this sudden need to preserve the preciousness of life and try not to deny anything else that breathes (in air or is referred to as a mammal) it's chance to reach old age.

I know what you're thinking - me, a vegetarian. Do not stress, I'm not turning into a lesbian.

And the final phase, which is probably the one consuming my mind the most, is what some would call "a crisis of faith". I'm not ready to blog about it just yet, but my worldview feels as if it's shattered and I'm slowly picking up the pieces of a life that's slightly clearer than it was before.

But I'm keeping mum on that one.

Happy Monday y'all

Where was I?

2009-11-04T15:57:00.003+02:00

You probably think I've been in hiding? Or sunning my gay skin in some little resort on the Mediterranean. Maybe you think I've been on some silent retreat getting to know the inner beatings of my ego. Maybe you think I've been up all night burning the midnight oil as I studied the ways of the world and got familiar with nuclear physics.

Well, you'd be wrong.

I've been lazy.

And busy...

Well, with what you might ask...

Where to start. Would you believe me if I told you I was busy meeting the President instead of blogging? I was actually. Spent a day waiting to see him and ten minutes shaking his hand and watching him chat to people more important than I am, but I met Zuma nonetheless.

And that's significant. Because Zuma knows Madiba. Which is significant. And Madiba knows Naomi Campbell. Not so significant. But.... Naomi shot the Sex book with Madonna and was naked with her, so by default I kind of met Madonna.

S'true...

So what else have I been up to?

Planning a wedding darlings... planning a wedding.

The big day is less than seven months away and I have recently had more and more people saying things like "how is the planning going?" or "shoo, you must be stressed". Their questions have made me more stressed than the planning has, because I hadn't really done any planning. We've booked the venue, chatted about the meal, started looking for someone who's keen to marry us but won't want us to wear feather boas because that's what they think a gay wedding should be, and started notifying family to prepare themselves to see two men kiss in front of them.

What more is there to do?

A lot it seems. I got one of those marriage magazines (there's none for men - not even grooms or for the gays) and saw the lists of things they told you to do. Apparently I have to get a training programme together so I can lose weight. Apparently you must be thin for your wedding. Especially if you're wearing a sleeveless number. I never thought of wearing a sleeveless number, but hey, you know gay men and their love for vests. But May is not good for sleeveless numbers (this magazine is full of good advice) so best to wear a shawl.

Please can someone refer me to a site or magazine that gives advice for homo's who want to get civil-unioned? Reading about the importance of seeing if wearing my hair up will work with the veil I've chosen is not really ideal.

I am obviously wearing my hair up.

It's also really difficult to find someone to do the vows. We're not planning a big "walk-down-the-aisle and have a talk about being submissive" (which is totally different in gay terms to straight terms - my Dad would pass out) kind of thing. We want the "let's-say-our-vows-between-starters-and-main-meal" kind of thing. Most people want to charge a deposit on a house just to do that... and those that don't want to do some kind of apache vow and traditional smoke signalling to union us. Finding the right fit is proving to be hard.

Meeting Madonna and planning a gay ol' union has been frightfully consuming, but I do promise to be better about keeping in touch.

Gay Pride and the God Delusion

2009-10-15T16:04:00.003+02:00

Now you all know by now that I'm not a big fan of gay pride. I don't like walking through the streets of a city announcing that I'm gay while I wear something ridiculous. It's a day when we ask to be taken seriously and look like a really weird mob. And, it's a day when we ask people to treat us as equals and go out of way to look different.

I know not everyone agrees with me, but that's okay - we're all entitled to our opinions.

I would be more comfortable if we called it something like mardi gras, and we took to the streets inviting anyone who wanted to have fun (or wear a boa in public). Pride has a political connotation, and I'm not sure I like that. If we wanted to organise a real political protest then lets do that - let's demand seriously that we want something, seriously... like the 75 000 who recently marched in Washington as part of the National Equality March. That's good stuff... me running through the streets with hotpants telling people I'm gay... not so fruitful. Pride was important. Now we need to re-invent it.... C'mon South Africa... let's lead the way!

That all said, I did go to Zoo Lake afterwards and have a few drinks with the boys, and a few girls who looked like boys, and a few boys who looked like girls, and a few girls who used to be boys.... it was pretty festive. Over 15 000 gay people (and those that love them) in a park being festive. I loved that... and proof that our secret efforts to convert people to the evil ways of deviance are working. Next year we hope for 20 000, depends if we can get to first year university students before our enemies, the rugby teams, get to them first.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy...

On a totally different note... I told you all that I'm reading The God Delusion. I'm just over halfway and so far I am finding it totally stimulating. I have not made a decision about his theories, but I have to say that its a lot more rational than I anticipated.

I must admit that I am attracted to his ideas. A recent reader left a rather scathing response to one of my posts and it was one of the first times that I really got angry and wanted to respond with swearwords and insults. Because that's what I felt the reader's response deserved. He/she took a lot of what I said and changed the context and rebuttled with scripture to mere portions of scripture that I had used - not reading it in full context. The reader felt that he/she "could not allow" me to deceive myself any longer. And once again, I was told that Jesus was there for me freely, if only I would accept his grace.... and change.

Please, new readers, if you read my blog please go back to my initial story of how I did all you asked... I am not prepared to step back on the wheel.

And while the majority of Christians have been supportive - I've found that it is really those who are prepared to not see the Bible as fundamentalist book, written by the hand of God, and totally relevant to today. I have believed in the Bible most of my life, but like I do not believe that the communion afer"becomes" the body of Christ, I do not believe that the Bible is perfect and completely relevant to today. Examples like verses missing (Mark 15:28) because they were lost in translation show that there is room for error. The reality is that even amongst Christians we are divided in our views becasue we are divided in what we really believe in scripture. What is symbolic, what is real? What is based on the times (like being stoned to death for being rude to your parents) and what is not? All I know is that we don't all have it worked out. And those that do are probably desperately afraid of not being right so avoid the questions.

I could go on forever but I don't want to get into massive theological debate... that's not the point of my blog. It's about a regular guy trying to live his life as best he can. And I'm thinking that my entire worldview is in the process of being reshaped... maybe you want to add your thoughts to help me on my way...

Remember me?

2009-10-12T18:51:00.003+02:00

So I know I've been a complete stranger. Do you know how many times I've logged onto the blog and even clicked "New Post" and not gone any further? Work really has a horrible way of interfering with my online activities. You know, really...

Annnnnyyyywaaaayyy... I'm here, I'm back and have lots to tell...

I turned closer to 40 without huge fanfare, and without my butt dropping to the floor. I did think that this was they year my anatomy would give in to it's war with gravity, and waited for the plunge at the stroke of midnight. All is well and my butt is as perky as ever... Ahem...

It's also the first year that I never woke up to presents. Seriously. In my 37 years of life I have awoken to each birthday with the gentle sound of people singing happy birthday off-key. But this year i awoke to dogs demanding food and a desperate need to check my, hopefully, non-sagging ass.

Not that I minded. FJ did offer to wake me up to sing to me with presents before he headed to work, but I think if he had attempted to at 3am i would have probably thrown my fancy new laptop bag back at him... Yes, i got a fancy laptop bag with inner padding (no airbags though...). I've always been scared of laptop bags. Little black ones that you get with your 'puter make you look like a travelling salesman and anything too outrageous makes you look like you're selling make-up, or carrying it to your next drag show. Man bags are vile, and I have yet to see one I like so was quite concerned about carrying around my new bag.

I once got asked out on a date by a guy I quite fancied . he was tall, dark and intelligent, and when he asked if we could go for dinner I was totally keen. We decided to go to Primi Piatti (I should've known then) and I arrived a bit earlier than he did. Now, I'm always slightly late, so he was really late (once again, I should've known then). Annnnnnyyyywaaaay, in he pranced with a little blue satchel thing under his arm. It was the male version of a clutch and i immediately wanted to run for the hills. He waved and I was forced to acknowledge his existence as I felt the entire restaurant spill their drinks and turn to look at the guy who was with the guy with the man bag. Apparently he was diabetic and needed the manbag to live, but I just couldn't be near it.

Does that make me shallow?

I would far rather carry my syringes and anti-hypoglycemic potions in my hand than carry them in a manbag. In fact, if i meet you, shaking my hand is usually a problem as I have cellphones, wallets, keys and pepper spray in my paws making formalities almost impossible.

I know, I know. I should use pockets, but i always think I'm drawing a little too much attention to my, um, package... and we wouldn't want that. Good upstanding lad with a perky butt that i am.

Back to the birthday...

So from the list, i have to say my group of friends and family did well! I did get the Queen's greatest hits (thank you Gina and Trent), but I never got Muse... if you would like my postal address, please let me know...

I got tons of books. In fact, I'm not sure I'll ever leave the house again... Here are the list of books I have lined up to read in the next few months:

The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown (believe it's crap though)
City of Thieves by David Benioff
The 30th Candle by Angela Makholwa
Home by Marilynn Robinson
The Children's Book by A.S. Byatt
A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle
The Jesus I Never Knew by Phil Yancey
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson
The Host by Stephenie Meyer
The Maeve Binchy Writer's Club

Quite a list! Oh, and I have the audiobook of The God Delusions (which is really blowing my mind and raising huge questions in my life... but that's all for another post)...

Okay, that's all for now. Will try catch up with other blogs now.

Birthday continued

2009-09-17T12:22:00.003+02:00

We have what some consider to be a strange arrangement in our family. As soon as a birthday looms we are required to produce a list of things we want (within a reasonable price range) and send it out so that the siblings and parental types know what to buy. I understand the logic, but I always hope that they'd think of something that's not on the list.

I remember one year I was told how someone had taken something back (that I would have loved) because it wasn't on the list. So now I try make my list as thorough as possible, but end up looking greedy. So I'm in a catch 22 of sorts. I love getting gifts (you may have noticed there are only 12 more sleeps) and I love birthdays, so I really want to make sure that my list is a good one this year.

The strangest thing is - I can think of nothing that I want! I have a list of big things (I need a new car) but these can never be on the birthday list for fear of losing the friends I have. SO I managed to scrape together a little list that looked something like this:

Madonna - Celebration (I'm sure the queen planned the release to coincide with my birthday)
Muse - The Resistance (apparently it's really good and I should have it)
Dan Brown - The Lost Symbol (I thought I had pre-ordered it, but seems to be lost in cyberspace)
White smart shirt (can never have too many white shirts!)
Clinique M-Lotion moisturiser (I'm about to run out)
Playstation 3 games (because I'm nearly 40 and want to feel like I'm 13)
Will & Grace Season 7 (the only season I don't have)
Angel Season 2 and 3 (I have season 1 and will never know what happens if I don't get it)
Spa voucher (because nothing says I love you more than a stranger rubbing you)

Anything I've left out?

A gay day

2009-09-16T09:43:00.004+02:00

I received a mail this morning, which is no reason to write a post on this blog, but this mail really caught my eye. It was sent from an organiser of Joburg Pride (which is a day when gay people walk through the streets proclaiming their existence, and often dressed in ways that they would never normally be seen). I think South Africans know that gay people exist. After all, we have that afrikaans gentleman doing makeovers on TV, and there is no way in hell anyone thinks he's straight. And, then of course, there's the nutsman...

Annnnnyyywaaaaaaaaaayyyy...

I got the mail and it was advertising a movie premiere where we could see a movie (a whole bunch of gays piled into a cinema) and get a free coke and popcorn as part of the price. This way we could help raise funds for the important plight of getting gays to roam the streets. The movie is probably full of half-naked men experiencing gay life - seems to be the best way to draw audiences to gay things. Throw in a Spanish title, and it all becomes appealling. But, hey, they had me at free popcorn.

This, though, was not the interesting part of the mail. The fun part was that she ended it with a small instruction to all the recipients. She said "Have a gay day people!". So as I headed to work I started wondering what this gay day could possibly mean. I'm sure she never meant it in its archaic version - meaning happy - because Lord knows, people no longer make that mistake. A simple "I feel gay this morning" could get your colleagues out the office and fleeing for their lives in confusion.

So she obviously wants me to have a gay, as in homosexual, day. How on earth do I have a gay day? I am gay (in case you haven't realised), but never knew my day should be too... I thought Joburg Pride was meant to be the gay day, but it seems I should have my own personal one.

If you would like to join me, here are the top ways to make your day gay... feel free to add your own to the list... I think a gay day could only be fun.

HOW TO MAKE YOUR DAY GAY:
1. Wear tight fitting clothes and stroll through your office shouting "I'm here, I'm queer - get used to it". It's perfectly appropriate to do on the streets, so on gay day, let's take it to the workplace. Nothing gets a person's respect more than yelling about your sexuality.

2. Send everyone in the office an e-mail with your favourite topless hunks. Topless ladies if you're a gay woman. It's fine... you're gay so you're a dirty pervert anyway... but you're here, you're queer, so they should get used to it.

3. Ask a colleague if you can borrow her frock and do your favourite Celine Dion song in the foyer. Nothing gets respect more than lip-syncing to River Deep, Mountain High.

4. Start a blog and do a countdown of the top ten things you love about being gay. Ahem...

5. Whenever a colleague asks how you are, yell "faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabulous" as you click your fingers, and swoop back your fringe. Nothing gets respect more than a carefully choreographed click of the fingers.

6. Pluck your eyebrows. C'mon, you know you wanna.

7. Remind everyone that the queen releases her greatest hits on the 21st of September... and then regale them with your favourite tune. After all - music, makes the people, come together.... yeah!

8. Tell everyone how you think Jesus was actually gay. That always gets a good laugh in the board room.

9. Explain to everyone about why we need pride. And maybe let me know too?

Let the countdown begin

2009-09-15T14:18:00.003+02:00

It's officially time to start the countdown. I think it's only fitting and only right that a day so huge be acknowledged daily, as it's enormity looms. You see, it's a significant day in all our lives. A day that has added much life and value, to me especially, and a day for which I will be eternally grateful.

Now, as a gay man, you may think I'm talking about the worldwide release of Madonna's new album on the 21st of September. While there is much merit in a countdown to the Queen's imminent arrival, I do think this is grander in the bigger scheme of things. For me, especially.

So, as a public service, I will now start the countdown, so you can get your lists in order, and allocate the necessary budget to the appropriate gift as response.

Ladies and gentleman... it gives me great pleasure to start the countdown.

As of today, 15 September 2009 , there are only 14 sleeps, yes 14 sleeps, left until my birthday!

Picture of beauty and being significant

2009-09-10T10:58:00.005+02:00

Today, I am the picture of beauty, even if I say so myself...

Perhaps I think I'm pretty because I have enough corenza c flowing through my veins to immunise an African country. Loving the drugs. As I sniff and cough my way through a day of work, I feel like I'm floating above my desk, watching this pretty person at his computer.

In reality... I have snot flowing from my nostrils. I cough and sound like I'm gagging, then cry in pain as my throat, which feels like a hot poker was rammed down it (a few times), reacts to the coughing.

But thanks to drugs... I feeeeeel fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiineee...

I have so much going on in my mind though, but struggling to write lucidly in my euphoric state. I'll blog more about this, but losing a friend (in such an unusual and unexpected way) has really jolted me. and a number of other people I might add. After Barry's death I have seen more and more people saying that his life has inspired them to live theirs differently. I have written before that I believe the meaning of life is found in our relationships. And I feel that even more now. Here is a guy who has been creditted by hundreds of people as being significant in their lives, and so many saying he was the best friend they ever had. Yesterday's funeral was incredibly sad, yet we all walked away knowing we wanted our lives to be like his - significant.

This means something different to everybody, but I realised that the only way to be significant is not by changing people, not by trying to help them, or save them (spiritually), but to be present. That was Barry's most remembered attribute. He was present. Passionately in the moment with you, whether you were breaking down crying, laughing hysterically, debating the issues or just walking side by side. He was present.

So in my aim to be significant, I aim to be present.

Even in your death, Barry, you've challenged me to be more alive.

A pic of Barry and I (freshly sunburned) on our first December camp together (1997 I think), acting like real "zoobs" as we pretended to play the demo on the keyboard. The pic was flashed up on the screen during the Joburg funeral and I could only laugh. Such a good time... (thanks Ryan for posting the pic).

Dark and down

2009-09-08T11:29:00.003+02:00

It's been a rough few days... not just with the horrible news last week, but just in general. Poor old FJ is working himself to the ground. This morning he was up at 1:30 am to get to the farm. He only gets home around 6 in the evening so he's working insane hours. Safe to say I'm totally worried about him, and hating the whole experience. Mostly because I can't be grumpy because I'm tired. I mean how can you beat that.

And in one deft swoop, I make his stuff about me... it's a gift I tell ya.

Annnnnnnnnnnyway, I was moaning.

So he's exhausted most of the time (but surprisingly chipper), and I've been feeling very sorry for myself. First a fever blisterdecided to settle on my top lip - that was the start of my falling apart. I called him Henry and applied cream to him daily. Lovingly.

Then I got a neck spasm. Have no idea how it happened but I couldn't turn my neck from side to side without yelping in pain. Driving to work was a gas. Took me half an hour to cross Louis Botha Drive. I had to manoeuvre myself so that I could turn my body 180 degrees, and just as I had seen if the right was clear, ten minutes later I managed to get my head to an angle where I could check the left. By the time that was done, the traffic was flying past on the right. I'm thinking now that I maybe shouldn't have been allowed on the road.

And now, I have a throat infection. I really do feel like I'm falling apart a little bit. I wish I could just climb into bed and sleep for a week, and wake up feeling all better about the world. But right now, I'm not a happy camper.

Barry

2009-09-03T13:44:00.004+02:00

This isn't going to be a usual rambler post; it's an attempt at catharsis while I sit at my desk with my mind reeling. I've spilt most of my life on this site, so I might as well let you in to a bit of the raw stuff.

You see, I just heard that a friend has passed away. I've known him for about 15 years, and met him through the church. He was a minister in the methodist church, and we met to discuss a camp he wanted to join on with his youth while I was a youth pastor. We clicked instantly. I can remember us sitting all formally in his office in Boksburg chatting about the ministry and our concerns and satisfactions. He became my mentor - he was a minister after all. He'd hate that I wrote that.

I could tell you all the memories that keep flooding but it's just going to sound trite. But, all I can say is, Barry changed my life. And I know a lot of people will say that.

I wrote him a letter to tell him that I was gay. Being a minister I knew he had a biblical stance on homosexuality. And we had chatted about his reservations about gay people. I was petrified about how he would respond. But he wrote back (and I still have the letter). His first words were "wow, how does one respond when you hear a friend is gay". Such an appropriate response. He affirmed our friendship and never changed the way he responded to me.

I will always appreciate that. He gave me hope, where I had walked away because of rejection. He even made me promise that he'd be the minister officiating if I ever got married. Hehe, chop.

Barry, you've touched so many people's lives and I'm grateful to have been one of them. I know that there are a whole lot of very sad people out there who feel your loss immensely. I know some have no words. As usual, I have too many words.

I will always remember the laughs, the joking, the tears, the intense debates, our attempts at rebellion by swearing, your intense love for God, the Church and his people ... and the songs. Man, I'll never forget the songs.

RIP my friend. Thank you for the time you gave me.

Intellectual inadequacy

2009-08-27T11:39:00.004+02:00

I've recently started doubting my writing skills. Well, let me clarify this - I know I can write, I know I can spin a reasonably good yarn, sometimes make a person chuckle, but do I actually have anything intelligent to say? I was recently told that my post informing all on why it's hell to be gay was "as shallow" as this person could handle, and teen-mag without really delving into the issues.

My response was that it was meant to be teen-mag, shallow and slightly on the Marian Keyes-side of writing.

I'm not offended by the person's comments - we each have our own taste, and some people love debate - grappling with the difficult to resolve issues in what they read. I like it too, and I suppose some of the gay Christian discussion has been fodder for those wanting intellectual stimulation and challenge. But, on the whole, is my writing shallow?

I went to a debate recently. It was a pre-discussion to whet our appetites for the upcoming World Arts Summit happening in Johannesburg. The debate was about cultural diversity - is it the answer to world peace or is it the root of all evil?

Seriously.

Two intellectual types took to the stage and offered opinions on cultural diversity in the arts and then we got to bounce this thrilling discussion around the audience and see what everyone else felt about cultural diversity.

I felt like I was back at varsity. Asking those life-changing questions - does art imitate life? Will protest theatre die when apartheid does? Will men ever watch dance again? It was stimulating, and part of me missed that.

And then I felt inadequate. Here are all these people who write theses analysing the world as we live it, while I write the 10 best reasons to be gay.

So I have decided. Have rethought. Have read prolifically. And decided that I will be more intellectual. Will dig deeper below the surface and talk about the real issues. I'll analyse what Michelle Obama says, rather than being more interested in what she's wearing. I will inform you all of the latest and deepest yearnings of the great minds, and join them as I share my wealth of knowledge with you.

I will use words like vacuous, and attempt to not appear vacuous.

What other words shall I use?

But you will be dazzled...

How does that sound people?

Or I could just give you the top 10 songs Madonna has sung in her career...

10. Holiday
9. Rain
8. Secret
7. Ray of Light
6. Live to tell
5. Papa don't preach
4. Hung up
3. Express yourself
2. Like a prayer
1. Vogue

I know Like a Virgin started it all, but I think the song is vacuous.

Why it's good to be gay!

2009-08-21T11:52:00.004+02:00

A few weeks ago I posted why it's hell being gay. I think its only fair that we follow it up with looking at why it's good to be gay...

You never have to remember anyone's name
You can walk into a room and just yell "hello daaaahling" and you'll be fine. No need to memorise the names around the table. Turn to the lady in blue and say: "Darling, please pass the salt", and she'll think you're fabulously forward and join you at the club after the meal. You can even say it to the straight guy at the table, and he'll think you're wonderfully theatrical or never look at you again, so you won't have to know his name anyway.

Once a year you can dress in a frock and walk through the streets yelling about how good it is to be gay....
It's called pride, and you can show it. With feathers. And signs. And loud music. If feathers aren't your thing, you can just take your shirt off. Nothing says I love being gay more than half-naked men.

You always smell good
You have to. It's in the guidebook you get when you are converted by the other gays. You know, the ones that were at your school teaching you maths and subliminally telling you to be attracted to the same sex.

You get great use out of your camera phone
Uploading a topless photo shot of your torso, taken by you while flexing in the mirror, is an essential facebook accessory. If you are on other sites with the word "gay", "dar" and "hunt" in them, you can also shoot other parts of your body for others to admire. The camera phone has made going to clubs, or dark alleys in some countries, unnecessary.

You always have something to sing at karaoke
Because you know all the words to Madonna, Britney, Kylie, Celine and, ahem, Miley. If you are over 40, then replace those with Madonna, Barbra, Bette, Celine and, ahem, Miley. If you are over 60, the replace those with Madonna, Judy, Barbra, Marilyn and, ahem, Marlene Dietrich. If you are lesbian, then replace those with Melissa Etheridge.

You are royalty
You are called a queen. Not the queen because she already exists - and has a lawyer, a manager, an agent and a chef, three nannies, an assistant and a driver and a jet, a trainer and a butler and a bodyguard or five, a gardener and a stylist - do you think she's satisfied?

You can shop
In fact, your money is called pink, but isn't. That would be silly. It's the same colour as everyone else's but you're a target market all on your own. Holidays are shaped around you, festivals are formed in normally conservative towns so pink money flocks there and changes back to a "normal" colour, and some brands even advertise especially to you - by placing topless people in their ads. The really clever ones put David Beckham in his undies. That ensures gay interest.

You are controversial
Gay politics is all the rage. Should gays get married? Should gays be allowed to be in church? Should gays be priests? Are all male hairdressers gay?

You have a gaydar
It's an internal alarm that goes off when others of your kind walk past. It doesn't just go off when the other person has plucked eyebrows, but even if they might have a girlfriend. That's a very clever gaydar.

You can say "faaaaaaaaaaaaaaabulous"
Isn't that faaaaaaaaaaaaaabulous?

Rambling... again...

2009-08-17T13:46:00.003+02:00

I'm not sure where to begin... I feel so out of touch with the world and life, and my blog, that starting a post has become more and more daunting. So I thought, stuff it - just write. So here am I, writing and not so sure where this will lead, so lets just go along with that shall we?

Reading other people's blogs I've been amazed at how open they've been about their lives and what's going on in their hearts. This writing thing can be cathartic. So after reading blogs like Shayne's (about the death of her daughter's grandma), Allie's battle with inadequacy, and Poppit's very brave blog on her lack of sex life, I sit here grateful for the blogging community, and for the safe space we have to share our thoughts, our hearts, our opinions and what we find amusing.

Much of my life I've spent waiting for the next page in the book. Sitting back, waiting to see what will happen next - never feeling like I was the lead character, or the author of my life. So much of my life has depended on the choices of others - will they hire me, will they cast me, will they befriend me, will they love me? I have felt so passive about my life.

Even my relationship with God, was in some ways, an attempt to take control of mine. I was able to pray for what I wanted, have faith (in someone other than me) that my hopes and dreams could be attained, and be assured of love and community with others who shared my hopes and dreams in God. In some respects, it allowed me to be passive too. If things happened in my life I was able to shift the "blame" - I could claim that it wasn't God's will, or say that when one door closed another opened because I had faith.

In some respects, I think this is why some are attracted to a relationship with God. It gives fathering to the fatherless. A guard at the door, so you aren't fully in control, aren't fully responsible and aren't fully to blame.

But more and more, I find myself questioning whether this is what a relationship with God is meant to be. We are responsible for our own choices. We are responsible for the way we respond to things. And we are responsible for moving forward, for fulfilling our dreams, and for growing in our relationships.

I'm not saying that there is no need for a relationship with God, but I'm not so sure God wants to be in the driver's seat. And I'm not so sure he's a backseat driver either, telling us where to go and why we should be where we are. I think God is the car, the fuel, the tyres and the maintenance. There every step of the way, going where we choose - no matter what we choose.

So much is said in the name of God, that I think we need to rethink giving Him all the glory. Sometimes life happens because we and others make choices. No need to sit waiting for God to make the next move. It's your move. You make it, you take responsibility for it and you face the consequences of it.

So why am I saying ll this... because so much has happened recently to make me realise that my life is no longer worth watching. But rather, I've managed to start writing some of the pages, not worrying what other people make think or waiting to see if it's right. Maybe it's all Jung's midlife crisis theory, maybe it's growing up - I don't know. But I've seen myself emerge more confident, and happy than I think I've ever been.

I started this blog to find my voice, and have grown as a writer, and a human being, by reflecting, reading and being a part of this blog community. A life not reflected is a life wasted, someone once said. Blogging forces you to do that - reflect, form opinions, discuss, argue and generally be in community, albeit a virtual one.

So thanks for reading. Thanks for being part of this journey. And thanks for sharing yours with me.

Why it's hell being gay

2009-07-30T09:31:00.004+02:00

You can't have hair
There's nothing more terrifying than a man with hair on his back. If you hear a "poof" sound when he takes off his shirt, run for the hill. Anyone will tell you. If it's on the back, then a wax is in order, or even garden shears if need be. But being gay means that you can't have any hair from the neck down, with the exception of a small neatly trimmed area - use your imaginations with this one people. Yes, I meant under the arms people. Straight guys have all the luck. They whip off their shirts to reveal their Magnum PI love-fluff and most girls swoon and think of running their fingers through the fur. Men run a mile... unless you're a bear...

You have to have hair
On the top of your head that is. Balding is to be avoided at all costs. Gay men have kept products like Hair Fantastique and Regaine alive, and now can be seen at a pharmacist near you with a prescription of Propecia in hand, and a request for minoxodil in the other. Straight men have a different opinion of balding- it means they've earned their stripes - they make jokes about it, tease each other and some even polish it. Not gay men, we're the ones crying in the corner, trying to paste the hair back into the follicle... unless you're a bear...

You have to fight being neurotic
They may not admit it but most gay men are neurotic. Usually about being discovered that they are gay. Being discovered meant shame when I was growing up, and is the same for many gay guys, so most of the time gay men spend their days telling people they're gay, so that they say it first, or hoping like hell it won't be discovered.

I remember sitting at a restaurant in Rosebank (it was called Three Sisters and if you remember it then you're old) and we had just received our order. 'We' consisted of three gay men, all freshly out the closet and doing things that gay people do - tea in Rosebank. The waiter came over to us and I was sure he was rolling his eyes in his sockets, totally perturbed that he had to serve this table of deviants. He walked up and casually asked, "are you guys all gay?". I was out of my chair. Standing up to defend myself and tell him how inappropriate his homophobia was when I realised he asked: "are you guys okay?".

It's exhausting stuff I tell you.

Unless you're a bear...

People assume you're fine with being called girl
Seriously.

Straight friends will assume they're cool asking you and your boyfriend if "you girls have had enough?" after your Sunday lunch. How do you respond? Do you laugh nervously? Do you guffaw as if they're hysterical and bitch about them behind their backs? Do you scratch your crotch, and spit in the plant to prove them wrong?

And then you get other gay men who call you girl, or refer to a male friend as 'she'. Some go so far as renaming you with a female name.

Seriously.

It's odd people.

Especially if you're a bear...

You have to learn a whole new language
In South Africa there's a whole gay language. Cigarettes are "silla's", parties are "patsy's". beautiful boys are "beaulah's", awful is "nora", no is "nancy" and other gay men are "sista's". So saying: "No man, this party is awful. Just one more cigarette and we'll go find boys somewhere else" becomes "Nancy sista, this patsy is nora. Just one more silla and we'll go find beaulahs." There are a whole lot more. It's not easy, this gay thing.

And then there are all the terms to represent certain things... top, bottom, cub, bear, twink, muscle mary...

Even bears know them...

You have to go to gym...
or else you have nothing in common with other gay men, and will sit at a dinner party eating your carb-free meal without anything to add. Talking about how you ration your six square meals and how amazing your personal trainer is, is essential stuff.

Even for bears...

You have to learn it's survival of the fittest or the bitchiest
Hence the need to go to gym, but if you don't then you need to outwit the rest. You can click your fingers as you throw in a bitchy comment for good effect, or you can just throw it in, in perfect comic timing and let everyone endear to you because you're just "so funny".

Except bears... they can't be bitchy, and if they are, they must never click their fingers at the same time.

You have to be trendy
That's why I read Man of Cloth. Wearing designer clothes is important. Even your underwear. Your Diesel jeans should have Aussiebums or Calvin Kleins perfectly peering above them so everyone knows that you have taste. Your bathroom should be filled with lots of expensive products and your shirts should always have a label...

And as for sunglasses. They must be big and must have a big "P-R-A-D-A" written down the side of them.

Except bears... they just need leather...

You must be okay with speedo's
It will be your uniform on the beach. No matter how many people mock you for it behind your back, you must believe that you look fantstic and that other men are admiring you in your budgie-smuggler as you amble up and down Clifton 3.

Your tan must reflect that you have worn a speedo.

Bears too...

You have to fight off the stereotypes
Ahem...

I have a virus!

2009-07-28T15:27:00.005+02:00

My computer had a virus.

And I feel completely violated.

How it got there is totally beyond me. I came into work one morning and there was a big sign telling me that some foreign-named worm was now replicating itself all over my hard drive. I ran the anti-virus I have on my computer and all it could do was tell me that I had a virus. You see, we have free anti-virus software on our computers, and it seems you get what you pay for. This tells you about your virus but you have to pay if you want to do something about it.

Thanks the Lord for google.

I trawled the net on how to get rid of this thing in my hard-drive and after two days, I think I've defeated it. I've deleted, I've clicked, I've prayed and, I confess, I've sworn, but I did it.

My IT guy told me I'd have to reload my PC. Ha! Bet he looks stupid now! Ha!

In other news, I have developed an addiction to two TV series. One is called Gossip Girl and the other is True Blood.

Gossip Girl is all about pretty rich kids (and some not so rich) who do what pretty kids do - they fight, they drink, they take drugs, they sleep with other pretty people, they fight with their parents and they do what all rich kids should do - dress well. All makes for a fascinating time. And, boy, are they pretty.

I've just finished season one - so no telling me what happens in season two, y'hear!

And, then, there's True Blood.

Not only is it a great story line - a kind of a whodunnit in Southern America - but it's also well acted and crafted. Completely different to what we've had on TV more recently, and completely edgy. And very sexy... It's not for the prudish, you do see the odd bit of bare flesh, but if you can see past that (ahem) you'll definitely enjoy it.

The story is about a group of people trying to deal with vampires in their lives, now that they've been "outed" and identified. Vampire clubs that were normally hidden are out in the open and vampires can walk into a bar and order a drink of blood thanks to a whole lot of vampire-activists who have asked for equal rights for all.

Ring a bell?

Weather lament...

2009-07-27T10:05:00.003+02:00

I think this is the least I've posted in a month. Can't believe how quickly July has passed. It flies when you're busy. And cold... I generally feel totally uninspired when my fingers creak as they try to reach the 'Q' key. I know Joburgers are big moaners when it comes to the cold, but this is insane. Yesterday my skin was so dry that I actually could write the word 'dry' on it (you're old if you remember that ad), and I'm churning through lip balm like its eye cream for Bridgitte Bardot. Climbing out of the shower feels like you've decided to jump naked into the arctic and leaving home for work is more punishment than it should be. You know Joburgers are cold when they're poleased they get stuck in traffic - it means they get to spend more time in their warm-heater-blaring cocoon.

And, of course, the Capetonians are revelling in the mildness of their winter. Blegh. Your mild winter is still worse than ours. I can do cold. I can do wet. I can't do them together though.

Alright, I'll leave yu with my moan about the weather. It's Monday. Monday is Moan-Day. You're allowed to... so, go... feel free...

Response to concern

2009-07-22T09:29:00.006+02:00

I'm rising from the ashes (so to speak) and back in the land of blog-ville. I have been quiet, I know, mostly due to work constraints - the time I have had free to blog I've used to rest - and personal stuff. I know that when I say "personal stuff" some of you lean closer to see if I'll spill the dirt on my life. Well, who am I not to wear my heart on my sleeve and tell you all my deep, dark issues...

Well, I have no deep, dark issues - just regular life stuff... a gay wedding to plan, offended people to deal with (some for not being invited, others for being invited to a wedding where they have to witness two men getting married), work issues (offices are never easy places to abide), and friends going through hard times and me feeling completely helpless in what they're going through...

I recently had a comment from a reader on an old blog post. He/she called themselves Concerned Christian and wanted to suggest that God has a different will for my life. They did say that I probably wouldn't post it, but I have no filter on posts (except for the spam I seem to be receiving so will have to put word verification back - sorry people), and am very happy to engage on the subject. I think Concerned Christian hadn't read all my posts, so didn't understand that a) I'm all for dialogue - I believe it's the way forward, and b) I have addressed his/her concerns and lived them. So I'm going to post the comment formally, and my response... and would love for you to add to the discussion... okay?

Hi Rambler,
you probably will not post my comment as I might be swiming against the tide! Nonetheless I still felt compelled to comment on your blog. Honsexuality is a sin and that is made very clear in the bible. It is not man's idea to call it sin- thats what God calls it! Regardless of what movements say...weather they distort the bible or not,we must accept and acknowledge our sin before God and if need be before man. However, just like any other sin God is willing and able to completely forgive and make an gay person new. He complete changes them and if you are a believer (Christian) then know that God does forgive and gives the grace to change completely. This doesn't mean that the feeling go away or the thought doesn't cross the mind but it does mean you have power to say no to ungodliness. When you resist the devil he will flee. The question we aught to be asking ourselves is do we want to be free? Do we want to change and walk in the the right path trusting that God is able to save completely those who come to him?
Concerned Christian.

I responded to the comment as follows (slightly editted):

Hi Concerned Christian

I post all comments and only delete ones that are offensive, so please don't feel like I don't hear other voices. You are more than entitled to that belief. Like you, I work out my own salvation with fear and trembling. I do think your comment is slightly naive - and totally fundamentalist. No disrespect intended. If you read more of my posts, you will read about my journey, which started with the same idea as yours. I do not believe that being gay is ungodly - when you journey back into the scriptures most of the references are based on the time, and men being raped in the Roman army (the Romans verse) for example. I choose to live my life as I wish, and to honour God as I believe. I do not dictate how others should do that, and ask the same from you. I read about a Christ who only got angry with religious leaders, and showed more grace to those considered sinful and dirty than those who were considered close to God. We work out our own salvation, and are called to love our brothers and sisters in him without judgement. Perhaps this is the lesson to be learnt than deciding to anonymously inform me how to live a more Godly life.

I hope you hear my heart behind the response - there is no anger or sarcasm to be read into it. But I do believe that we, as Christians, need to change the way we approach people we perceive as different, and sinful. Just as Jesus did.

I also wanted to add this to the equation:

"Teacher, which command in God's Law is the most important?"
Jesus said, "'Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.' This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: 'Love others as well as you love yourself.' These two commands are pegs; everything in God's Law and the Prophets hangs from them."
Matthew 22:36-30 (from The Message)

I know the gay thing is difficult to digest for some... and please don't think I expect everyone to have the same view as mine. You are allowed your opinion (and school of thought), as am I, and just because I have an opinion doesn't mean I have the right one. And vice versa. I have chosen to live my life authentically, and openly, and make no apologies for how I work out my salvation. I don't expect you to embrace my choices, but if you love me, I expect you to support me, or talk to me. So we can understand each other better. And, talking means renegotiating at times.

I am no less a Christian because of the choices I have made. The choices I have made have been prayerful, thought through and in relationship with a God so many have told me to walk away from. I work out my salvation with fear and trembling, just as others do. And , Concerned Christian, I appreciate your concern. I know you did what you felt convicted of and what you thought the most loving thing to do. Take the time to get to know my journey and you will see I journeyed where you suggest. I came out with a stronger conviction that it was not what God wanted. There are many other stories. Its easy and glib to say "just do it". That's why I write what I do... no one knows how painful and difficult the journey can be unless they've walked in those same shoes...

Alive...

2009-07-15T15:29:00.003+02:00

So:

am alive
but hellishly busy
mag goes to print in a few days
life isn't all that fun at the moment
sleeping less than normal
grumpy
coffee is my friend
and feeling all round low

But:

should be ecstatic
FJ and I have set a date
booked a venue
planned the food
have the best men ready
starting to alert the family

Which means:

we have to save more money than we probably will
hard when you're a shopper
have to start telling people who aren't invited
have to deal with people asking silly questions about how two men can get married

In any event:

we're getting married (well, civil union-ed)

Seriously:

Its really going to happen...

Seriously

Look - a meme!

2009-07-09T15:47:00.004+02:00

I stole this from Allie, and thought I'd use it while I have no blogging mojo...

I am: about to turn 37 and can't vaguely believe it

I have: a weird phobia of weed-eaters (lawnmower type things if you don't live in SA or have green fingers)

I know: that the meaning of life is found in your relationships

I think: way too much for my own good

I don't think: Madonna should wear revealing clothes at her age, but Britney should

I want to: stop being scared

I have: a wedding to plan

I like: fries... oh, wait, that would be love...

I dislike: cooked carrots

I hate: weed eaters

I dream of: weed eaters being abolished...

I fear: weed eaters

I am annoyed: by people weed-eating at the side of the road, making me scream like a girl as I drive past

I crave: chocolate, and a flat tummy... sigh

I usually: burp loudly when no one else is around... sometimes when they are

I search for: wholeness

I hide: when I think I can give you a fright as you walk past

I wonder: if things would have been different sometimes...

I know: that life is short, so I'm going to go for it...

I just can't help: who I am

I regret: believing that others were better than me...

I love:FJ

I can't live without: zambuk, hair product, the shoes, pop music, my blackberry

I try to: do more than I should

I enjoy: dancing to songs that I know the words to

I don't care: if you find my sexuality offensive

I always: believe that God loves me

I never want to: be jaded and bitter

I rely on: coffee

I believe: that Believe is one of Cher's best songs

I dance: too seldom

I sing: all the time

I argue: when I'm tired

I write: because I believe that story-telling is instinctive

I win: and if I don't, I sulk

I lose: if I haven't cheated well

I wish: Madonna would call me... or Adam Lambert....

I listen: well

I don't understand: why we fear what we think is different

I'm scared of: weed eaters

I forget: how much I love talking about myself, until now...

I am happy: that's all... I am happy...

I want to thank the academy...

2009-07-06T15:00:00.004+02:00

I've decided to rethink the acting thing and sending new pics to my agent... whatcha think? I recently had a chat with my sister about my acting career and she inspired me to give it a go again - nothing dramatic (for want of a better word), just dipping my toes back in...

All pics taken today... you're the first to see them!

Feel like I'm getting my blogging mojo back, so will be back with you in a bit, I'm sure...

Silence is broken

2009-07-02T10:12:00.002+02:00

So the blog has been quiet - because I've been quiet... Thanks for the comments to find out if I survived the big fat Greek engagement party... I am alive, and in one piece, although I have a few wounds to show for it.

Seriously.

I'll blog about the engagement party at some stage, probably when I get some pics from my sister - but lets just say, there was a priest, a ceremony, plate breaking, dancing, controlled flames, and plenty of spirit... definitely a good way to start their journey to getting married.

The blog's been quiet because I've been in a totally weird space.

A friend's mom died last week. I got a call from her as she was on her way to her mom's house, and she was calling to release some of her confusion. No one was sure what had happened, all they knew was she wasn't answering the door, and was found unconscious. She was obviously distraught.

A little while later, the worst was confirmed and from there, she has had to deal with the reality of her mom's death, with her sisters.

I've known Tart for 20 years. In fact, we're planning to celebrate our 20-year anniversary later this year. And in knowing her, I've got to know her family. I knew her mom as a vibrant, passionate woman, who loved her daughters fiercely - almost as much as she loved wearing red. She was warm, funny and always made you feel at home. I remember her as confrontational, and slightly intimidating, but always because she was protecting those closest to her. And, boy, did she love God.

Their loss really affected me... I felt their loss so vividly, because there is nothing quite like losing a mother. No matter how old you are. Mother's are your umbilical cord to life, and losing them always reminds you of your own mortality, and the need to hold onto moments in life, and fight to find them.

I wished I had the words to console them, but I know how much they're going to hurt. The "firsts" are the first thing - first birthday without her, first Christmas, and then remembering her birthday and day of passing. The lie is that it gets easier with time. It doesn't. It just gets more distant. And that's where the pain is.

I've tried to walk alongside the family as much as I could, and hope that I was a friend when they needed one. And when it all goes quiet, and everyone expects you to get on with life and work, I'll continue checking in.

Tart's mom's memorial service was also incredibly powerful. The three daughters lead worship - their mom loved nothing more than the three of them to sing together, so as painful as it was, it was her gift.

So, why am I blogging about this? It's cathartic, mostly... and after releasing this I can get back to the fun stuff. I just wanted to pay tribute to her, although I think Frank's post was incredibly beautiful and moving and should be read. And I wanted to pay tribute to moms. I don't think you ever really know how much your mom means to you until she's no longer there. Well, not just moms, but there is something special about a mom - your life-giver. Those of you with moms, live every moment. Let her know how much you love her, build bridges if you need to, and savour every moment...

Big FAT Greek engagement party looms....

2009-06-25T15:34:00.003+02:00

You may recall a post a few months ago - about my sister's engagement party. To recap: she's getting married (when, we don't know) to a lovely Greek man, and they're having a big Greek engagement party. As they should.

As an aside, my older sister recently announced that she too is engaged. If I get one more "ah sweet, all three sisters are engaged" comment, I will scream loudly... in the butchest possible way I know how. I'll just copy my boyfriend...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnyyywaaaaaaaaayyyy...

This means that on Saturday I will engage in the plate-throwing frenzy that seems to be part of a Greek party, and hope not to seem too out of place.

I'm actually no longer scared of the the plates not breaking. I've been reassured that they are a special, more-flimsy plate that breaks a lot easier than normal crockery. Thank the Lord. They clearly have had gay people at their parties before, and made dummy plates so the gays without throwing genes don't feel too embarrassed.

But, as an aside, I was informed of a new terrifying, life-endangering tradition that I will have to partake in.

Not only do I have to watch for shrapnel as shards of cheap pottery smash around the shoes... I may not wear the shoes...actually, I think I may invest in wellingtons... aaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyywaaaaaaaaaaayyyy... but, and I have this on good authority, they throw whiskey on the floor. (Seriously)

Now this in itself is a danger. I've been known to slip on the odd wet surface, so this whiskey puddle could make for an embarrassing moment as I glide across the floor before landing under a table with my legs in the air.

Not only, dear readers, do they throw whiskey on the floor, but they light it. WITH FIRE. I am going to be dancing along, flinging the shoes from left to right in a circle of flames while shards of cheap pottery fly around me.

WITH FIRE!

I'm going to be dancing in fire.

Whiskey fire.

Plates smashing.

Me screaming internally.

You see, I will probably be the one to step into the flames as I dance too enthusiastically (apparently I need to drink some of the whiskey too, so I shall be feeling rather adventurous - given that I get drunk on the smell of whiskey), and as I make contact with the fire, some of the whiskey that has landed on my pants in the Greek whiskey throwing ceremony (I assume they have one too) will burst into flame, and I will be the flaming (no, not queen) person, screaming, as people rush to get away from me. I'll set the mamas and the papas alight, and hopefully some kind Greek soul will take off their jacket and throw it over me before I set the rest of the guests alight.

Because, do you know how much hairspray Greek people use?

Apparently.

Highly flammable people. In a room of fire...

Let's recap, shall we?

Me and the shoes.. lalalala, chat chat chat...

Plates breaking...

Me yelling "Opa!"

Whiskey splashes.

FIRE!

Dancing...

Now after showing this post to someone before posting, I was told that apparently you have to dance with a shot of whiskey on your head.

Flammable goods on the hair!!!!!!!

That's it... I'm not going...

These Greeks can endure the MADNESS on their own.

Moaning

2009-06-22T14:58:00.004+02:00

I feel like moaning...

Because I'm good at it...

When I start feeling that bit of frustration kicking in, the way I deal with it is to moan about it... When I feel tired, I moan... When I feel cold... I moan...

Not in a brash "nya-nya" kind of way... more in a roll my eyes and make a snide comment kind of way... and if you give me the gap, I'll tell you my complaints.

Can I tell you my complaints...

Shouldn't have set you up, should I...

Okay, I'll tell you my dislikes - because that's kind of like moaning...

1. I hate being thrown in the pool. Ever. Even if I've been in the water and am standing around about to go in. And I hate being splashed. I am in control. I will go in when I want to, and throwing water at me is not encouraging. It will make me remove you as y friend on facebook.

2. I hate being removed by friends on facebook... well, random people who added me then felt I never made an effort, then deleted me. Firstly, if you add me as a friend, you make the effort... and secondly...just because we went to nursery school doesn't mean I'm excited to hear from you. In fact, I may not remember you now that you're 30 years older, so don't get sensitive. Just mail me and tell me that we used to swim naked together as children.

3. I hate being woken up. I will be mean. I will snap... and I may not remember doing it.

4. I hate losing at Scrabble. Or any game. I will moan and accuse you of cheating... I'm a terrible sport. Unless I drink while we play. Then I have an excuse to lose.

5. I hate people phoning me and asking me how I am before they've told me who they are. Generally means you are a salesperson and means I will speak a bit faster and less warmly. Okay, let's call it cold.

6. Actually I feel sorry for tele-sales people. Until they phone me.

7. I hate cooked fruit. Unless it's called apple pie. Then I like it.

8. I hate tequila. It likes me though.

9. I hate when I can't remember your name, even though I've met you before. I think we should all wear name tags. All the time...

10. I hate that I feel average... even though I know I'm not... I'm speshul.

11. And I hate Mondays. They make me feel like moaning.

And to even it out, I'll tell you what I like. But not now. I feel like moaning.

The gay issue steps into the light… finally!

2009-06-18T12:31:00.008+02:00

This is a review of a book I've written about before... I think it's worth reading and ordering, especially if you are a Christ-follower with an interest in homosexuality and the church...

I was given the book by a friend. She knew my struggles with my sexuality and my belief in the Christian doctrine as defined by the Bible, and hoped that it would ease the wrestling between my seemingly incongruous characteristics.

I received the book with the usual scepticism a gay person would when receiving a book that offers to “help” by a Christian. I expected to get two chapters into the book, yawn and throw it amongst the heap of books I already had calling homosexuality a sin, or showing me steps to free myself of the “homosexual neurosis”, strangely similar to the alcoholics 12 steps. Both are diseases, after all.

I sat down to get through what I hoped wouldn’t be complete drivel and started Graham Ingram’s book Out of the Shadows. The first thing I noticed was the by-line: “Let’s get real about the gay issue”. “Let’s get real about your school of thought about the issue,” was my immediate response.

A few pages in, I realised I needed to rethink my expectations of this book. This was stuff I had never seen in published writing before. I had thought some of it, had discussed some of it with friends, but never had someone with a theological degree and the title of minister been so frank about homosexuality and the church, or his own journey as a homosexual man.

Graham Ingram has been a church pastor for more than 40 years, and is well-respected in this role. For years, Ingram wrestled with being gay and being a pastor, often in silence. In this ground-breaking candidness, he tells of this journey and, in a very real and relatable way, builds a bridge between conservative Christ-followers and gay people. Well, for those prepared to listen, anyway.

I’ve spoken about homosexuality and Christianity before, and have been criticised by some for attempting to reconcile the two and present this on a public platform. So, let me say out right, this book is aimed at people who have a fundamental belief in the Bible and in Christ as the son of God. If you disagree with this, then the book is not aimed at you, and no need to add silly comments at the end of this about your lack of belief in God as presented in the Bible. You’re allowed your belief, as are Christians.

On the other hand, I understand the criticism, because, well let’s face it - some Christians deserve a good kick up the butt. Their judgement of lifestyles other than their own seems to deserve a response as viper-like as their own lashings. And this is what is so refreshing about Ingram’s book. He presents a very even, balanced and non-judgemental response to defamatory comments about gays – comments he has experienced in his own life, and more so, since writing this book.

Ingram starts by telling his story – being from a boy’s school, this is Spud with a huge difference – the protagonist is dealing with his attraction to men, rather than trying to avoid Pike in the dorms.

Ingram has never had sex with a man – something the Church should applaud. After all, that is the first option for gay men – to commit to a life of celibacy. Ingram explains his stance on this without judging those who have decided to commit to a same-sex partner, even though the assumption would be that he would expect you to follow his lead. Even though he had never “sinned” by acting on his attractions, the revelation of his homosexuality created a stir amongst the church in which he served and became his first experience of rejection within this context. His response, rather than to run was to live in his truth – as he says: “In admitting the truth I was free. I had actually harmed myself a great deal by trying to suppress for so many years what I knew to be true. I had to bring it out, move out of the shadows, and take a good look at it, and come to terms with what it meant.”

It’s this reflection that led to the book Out of the Shadows.

The book deals with many things never really discussed before – why is the evangelical church having such a hard time dealing with homosexuality? What does the bible really say about homosexuality? And then moves on to the good stuff – how do you deal with being a Christian who is gay? How do parents deal with a child coming out?

Finally, he asks – “where do we go from here?” This is probably my biggest frustration with the book, although I understand why Ingram takes the stance he does. Ingram doesn’t make demands of the Church to change. In fact, he got me thinking. That’s his aim. You see, so often we, as gay people want it all now. We demand change. We demand to be seen as equal. We demand marriage. Understandably so, but sometimes demanding is not the way forward. Ingram seems to suggest that we tread this one lightly. That we start building the bridges slowly. Hell, we’ll never change some of the conservatives minds – there will be those who yell “God hates fags” for many years to come, just as there are those who are appalled that women are allowed to be leaders in a church. But, for some, dialogue will build the bridge. It will allow people to see gay people as humans and not “types” of people different from them.

Ingram has written a powerful and deeply personal book, which I hope will be met with the respect due to it. This is a man who is prepared to open the door to friendly discussion, where judgement has no place, but a way forward is the aim.

In later contact with Ingram, I have been pleased to hear that his book, which has struggled to find distribution, has been received favourably by members of the church, resulting in invitations for him to speak to congregations and leaders of churches.

Gay men who believe in the Christian doctrine that Jesus is the Messiah will find a lot of comfort and hope in this book, something denied by many in this context. I hope many get to read it, and really hear what he has to say.

The book is available at some book stores, but can be ordered for R80 + postage by emailing me at clivevdw@gmail.com - I'll pass on your details to the publisher.

skinny skiiiinnnyyy jeans

2009-06-17T15:57:00.003+02:00

I bought a pair of skinny jeans - as an act of defiance. An attempt to prove that even though I'm about to embark on my 20-year high school reunion, I can still pull off trends that make me feel young.

Call me mutton-dressed-as-lamb if you want, but I'll defy my age for as long as I can.

I won't consider plastic surgery... I'm not a fan of pain or needles, so cutting away my age is not an option.

I am rather fortunate though. Although I'm closer to 40 than I am to 20 (wwaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy closer), I apparently don't look my age. And, Lord knows, I don't feel my age. Inside this middle-aged (gaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssppp) body beats the thoughts of a whipper snapper.

Now, you see, I called myself a whipper snapper... Always do something to show my age... no one calls themselves a whipper snapper... *whacks head on desk*

So, inside this middle-aged body, is far younger person. I feel like I'm around 20. Part of me thinks it's because, I only allowed myself to be discovered a lot later than most do...

I went to a party the other night, and I got a very familiar response - the person had been told I was heading on the road to 40-ville, and expressed their surprise at my age, telling me I looked like I was mid-20's. After hugging her for 30-minutes she wriggled away to find a drink and the safety of real closer-to-20-year-olds, while I told everyone in the room what she said.

Now I suspect it may be the fact that I was singing a Britney Spears song at the top of my voice on the couch at the party, that made her think I was a, um, whipper snapper... but who can tell?

The reality is that I have a fat face - which hides wrinkles... It was the curse of my teenage and young adult years and seems to be my saving grace in middle-age. In fact a lot of stuff I beat myself up for in school seems to be my saving grace now... I have full lips, and when I was in school I was told that if I didn't keep quiet they would lick my lips and stick me to the window, like a Garfield suction cup to the car (all the rage in the 80s). Then Angelina Jolie came along and the lips I hid for so long (I used to have a technique of sucking on my lower lip so it appeared smaller) were suddenly all the rage...

I also used to get teased about my "bushman bum"... well, that's what they called it at school... I apparently looked like one of those bushmen painted on rock walls. Years later, this was renamed the "bubble butt", and is apparently worth looking at...

Feel free...

And then, my fat face, well, fleshy would be the less offensive term... my fleshy face has now reached a good proportion to the rest of my features and has effectively puffed out the lines that I see on so many people my age...

Now, I haven't missed the ageing curse. I played a tennis tournament on Sunday and hobbled around for two days afterwards. My feet felt arthritic, and my thighs felt like sumo wrestlers were trying to rip me apart by placing me on my back and spreading my legs. How on earth do you get a sore gooch from tennis? My forearm felt like I had been arm-wrestling lesbians... and I had the un-coolest sunglass tan. No one else got burnt, but my ageing almost-40-year-old skin.

So my body certainly doesn't bounce back like it used to...

But!

I will not let that stop me in my endeavour to stay young, positive and bouncy... I will continue to dress like a lamb, even though I'm starting to look like biltong... and I will follow trends, even when those around me are searching for mom-jeans.... And I will wear skinny jeans even though I'm almost 40...

Laugh all you like - or join me...

Its been 20 flipping years... *#$^#$%&^#%^

2009-06-12T15:11:00.004+02:00

I knew it was coming, but I'd kept the reality of it from entering my mind. But now I can not avoid it... for you see, in my inbox was the damning mail announcing what should never have been mentioned, let alone sent through cyberspace...

Howzit Clive

Believe it or not, next year sees the 20th Year Anniversary of our Matric Year - deny it all you want but the fading hairline and expanding waist are tell-tale signs that this milestone is fast approaching and we therefore might as well greet it with the mother of all parties !!

Ha!

Its my gosh-darn 20-year high school reunion in April next year. They're giving us advance notice so that there are no excuses. Um, thanks... but I plan tidying my sock draw waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay in advance people...

You see, I never really enjoyed the majority of my class when I was at school. I was at a school where classmates became Springbok coaches and rugby players, while I donned tights and learnt how to breath through my bum in acting class. We're just polar opposites.

And the invite says that we should discuss whether wives are allowed or not...

Cut to me asking if my husband-to-be can be there...

Wonder how the boys will take that?

You see, boys schools are all about being as manly as possible. And that often means putting down those that aren't as, um, manly. I wonder if anything has changed...

Actually, I really do wonder if anything has changed! I've seen some of my alumni on facebook, and I can tell you that their foreheads are higher, their waistlines have expanded, and most have profile pics with beers in their hands (perhaps to explain the waistlines). Some have pictures of their wives, and one or two have their toddlers, but most demonstrate their affinity to lager.

I on the other hand, am as skinny as I was back then. Thank the Lord. Have retained most of my hair (thanks to many, many drugs that I shan't tell you about) and have no affinity to lager (hence, my lack of girth). So it seems we're still polar opposites.

How would they respond with the truth about my sexuality?

Maybe I should go...

Arrrggghhhh... back to my point. It's my twenty year reunion. I have spent more years out of school than in them. I could have fathered the matrics of today.

Can you hear my crisis?

Can you hear me lathering moisturiser on my face?

Can you hear me injecting botox into my eyelids.

Ew...

I took it too far...

Oh well, glad I got the mail on a Friday, so I can spend the weekend sticky-taping my eyebrows to my hairline...

Fame

2009-06-11T16:17:00.003+02:00

So I mentioned before that I'd done some TV work... this was the first ad I did for the UK... see if you can spot me...

Fear of missing out...

2009-06-10T10:41:00.009+02:00

As you may know I'm a bit of a facebook addict. Not having access to facebook only adds fear into my life - fear of missing out. Not that I ever miss out on anything, but I won't know... I was like that with Big Brother. I watched them sleep. Just in case they did something that got media and peer attention, so I could say "I know, I saw".

I remember one of the Big Brother contests in South Africa - I think it was the one where that horrible gorilla-like man defecated on the lawns for all to see (*gags) - and I remember it was during the time of 9/11. They got out of the house, after not having access to the outside world, and had to hear about it from reporters, who scrutinised their every reaction. I wouldn't be able to do Big Brother or Survivor for exactly that reason - that something huge may happen and I wouldn't know, until the hype had died down. After all, sometimes the hype is more enthralling than the news. I would only do reality shows if they let me take my blackberry, and Survivor would have to let me take a toothbrush and have an accessible porta-loo. Foef people. I'll leave crapping on the lawn to drunk gorilla-like men.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnywaaaaaaaaaaay...

There are certain things I will never forget in my lifetime. My response to them is etched in my memory, as is the hype that followed.

I'll never forget Charles and Di getting engaged. I had the engagement pic of them cut out (in a heart-shape) on my wall. My parents had no idea I was gay.

Seriously.

And then, their wedding... ah. We even got the day off school to watch it. The Royal Wedding was huge in Benoni.

Huge.

Holidays all round. I sat and watched Di with my brother, as she got his names wrong and gave that infamous kiss on the balcony. I look at it now, and can see he was picturing Camilla in his mind... He was devious like that...

And then, of course, I remember her death. I was dressed as a clown about to do a skit in a church on the East Rand. I remember what was supposed to be a funny skit flopping because most of the audience were in tears or at least emotionally charged. I cried when she died. Clown make-up everywhere.

And I remember 9/11. Who could forget? I was at work and sat scanning the internet and mailing friends in New York to see if they were okay.

Then of course the terror attacks on London - I was on the tube - how could I forget? Or let you forget...

I remember my mom crying because Elvis had died.

I remember watching Mandela being released... not knowing what was in store for us as a nation, but pretty pleased that times were changing...

And I remember driving to work in Cape Town hearing that Britney and Madonna had just snogged at the VMA awards... It's moments like that you can't miss out on... the passing of the baton, with a bit of tongue... Can't pay for that kind of memory...

Bored bored bored

2009-06-08T15:37:00.003+02:00

After my initial enthusiasm about the Twilight series, I'm sorry to say that I've hit book 3 (Eclipse) and am bored to tears. I really wish they would just make that awful girl a vampire already so that she can stop being so damn miserable and finally she'll feel a bit of the pain I feel every time she utters an angsty thought...

I'm not sure I'm going to make it to the final book...

Could it be that teenage literature is boring me, and I am heading closer to 40 than 20, even though I thought I was totally young at heart...

Is this the end?

Introspection and reflection on days gone by....

2009-06-05T10:15:00.005+02:00

I recently returned to my old stomping ground, after not being there for nearly fourteen years. I studied at Wits Drama School and spent most of my days being arty in the Wits Theatre, hoping to be discovered by some famous director who would make a star of me.

I arrived and had to park on the other side of campus. The university was having their annual arts weekend and it seemed like the world had decided to descend on campus, and took all the parking with them. I had to park down at the bottom and walk quite a distance to get to the theatre where I was meeting a friend.

It was lunchtime and the students were enjoying the sun on the library lawns and as I walked through I suddenly had this flood of memories. I remembered friends who I no longer see, who were such a part of my experience there. I remembered sitting on those very same lawns, full of youthful energy and enthusiasm for the future... and generally a tad hungover.

As I walked down to the theatre I remembered my drama school family who were so important to me. In fact, they were my world. We did everything together - we were forced to - we spent more time on campus rehearsing than anywhere else and were usually placed in compromising positions in those rehearsals so got to know each other pretty darn well... some may say inappropriately - but we were just aaah-cting.

As I walked into the theatre, I remembered this awkward teenager, who spent more time desperate for approval than he did engaging in the lives of others. University was all about me (not much has changed, some may argue). I was acting so that I could get immediate approval - applause was immediate, but insufficient - so you got back on stage for your next fix...

I remember the battles - internally as I grappled with my sexuality. My first two years were out of the closet, attempting (badly) to define myself as a gay man, and the following years were spent battling my rediscovered christian faith and the evil that lurked within.

No matter what camp I was in, I never felt like I could completely fit in. When I was with fellow Christ-followers I was always guarded - holding back in case they discovered what lurked under the surface. Most of them suspected I'm sure, but often wrote it off as me being in drama school. And amongst the acting fraternity I was guarded too. Most never understood my faith and my susequent struggle with my sexuality... and I never understood that my desperation to be good and pleasing to them on stage made me a very mediocre actor - totally self-aware and unnatural.

So my return to the school brought back all these conflicted emotions... along with a great appreciation for where I am. For how far I've come in my faith, my sexuality and my relationships... and for managing to lessen constant fear to moments of panic.

Do we ever lose the fear?

But I still hold back in relationships. After my post yetserday, I revisited the relationships I have and see how guarded I still am. I'm still scared to let someone in, in case I lose them and am hurt by that loss. I'm still scared they may discover something deep below the surface and see that I'm not as funny, confident and driven as they think I am. That they'll see that I'm still that skinny kid fighting his demons, hoping to be included and always assuming you're far more sorted than he is..

And, then I think... you know... you're closer to 40 than you are 20 and you still walk around with this crap. It's your damn life, just do it. You live so much of your life trying to please others, are you going to spend the next thirty doing the same.

I walked through my old drama school grateful for the memories. Grateful for what actually was the time of my life. Grateful for friends that have come and gone. Grateful for those still in my life. Grateful for the wisdom of reflection.

And grateful that I'm not that frightened young kid hoping to be discovered and affirmed...

I remember my gran saying that I must love being young - that they're the best days of my life. Well, looking back, I think she was wrong. Right now is all we have. Growing older has meant growing wiser, and growing up has meant growing further - further from the immature desires that consume us. For the first time I understand the saying that today is the best day of my life...

Okay, I'll stop with the introspective posts and get back to funny rambler soon - it's just been a deep week for me. Doesn't happen often okay!

On a totally different note - watch this! The funniest thing I think I've seen ever - the challenge is to take an 80s song and make a literal interpretation of the music video... Crying with laughter I tell ya!

I'm a tad philosophical after yesterday

2009-06-04T13:12:00.005+02:00

Days like yesterday are not normal for me. I made a decision many years ago to live as positively as I could, and grab every ounce of life I can. Which doesn't mean I do silly things like walk on coals or power swing off bridges. That's really not embracing life for me - that would be more like asking death to take me sooner rather than later. I have no intention of ever dropping off something higher than a step, or walking on anything that could have meat cooked on it. If that makes me less of a life embracer then so be it.

Today I was once again reminded of the need to take life by the, ahem, balls. I spent the morning with Reach for a Dream who give children with life threatening diseases a glimpse of hope by realising their dreams. In the conference was a young girl in dire need of a kidney transplant. She was 14, but looked like she was about 8. They asked what her struggles were, and she said something that struck me. She said the hardest thing about her disease is that she watches her friends and siblings playing when she can't. And she sees them eat and drink what she's not allowed to.

For her, it wasn't the pain or the fear of death that got to her. It was the fact that she couldn't be like everyone else. And do things we take for granted... She wants to play, eat chips and drink soda's.

In the conference we got to hear from volunteers who give up their time and resources to make these kid's dreams a reality and what they said also struck me. They spend time at the bedsides of these children, getting to know them... and offering an escape from the barrage of medical staff that continuously want to draw blood, insert needles and check on them.

And I started thinking about my life.

Why are we here anyway? Now, I know this is a question so many have asked and has been the basis of many existential theses over centuries.

So I thought about why I was here. What is the meaning of my life? And as I looked at this child battling possible death and these volunteers reaching out to them, I realised that the meaning of life is really simple.

We're here to be in relationships.

The reason we're here is so we can connect with other people. It's the very first story in the Bible - God connecting with man, and man needing to connect with someone else because he was lonely. We're here to be in relationships - whether it be parent to child, husband to wife or friend to friend. The meaning of our lives is found in our relationships, because, essentially, they are all we leave behind when we die. We are only remembered by the lives of those we've impacted in some way.

As a gay man, that makes me want to ask those of you who would see my connection with another man as deviant, to reconsider where you stand. You see, connecting with someone significant is a part of the fabric that makes up my life - is part of the meaning of my life. I know you may not understand it. Sometimes, I don't understand why you marry the person you do, even though you're supposedly normal because you're different sexes. But all I ask is that you let me live my life. And do what you get to take for granted...

My relationship with another man has not done anything to destroy the fabric of this society. Or hurt anyone. I know you see it as different, but you take it a bit far when you see it as dangerous. Different is not always bad. So all I ask is that you live your life without any judgement from me as I choose to live my life in the most abundant way I know how - in relationship with a man I love, and with friends around me who can add to my life as I add to theirs.

That's all.

And as a response to what I saw today, I will endeavour to embrace the relationships in my life, seek to build new ones, and see people as important. Because people matter. They're what we're on earth for.

3 June

2009-06-03T13:46:00.004+02:00

Today hasn't been fun... I've been feeling rather blue, and we're on the last stretch of getting the magazine to bed, so I just feel a bit pooped. Today is a day I always treat differently, because it's a day that's quite loaded for me.

June the third has represented loss to me for most of my life. 28 years ago, on this day, my life changed and I don't think I've ever really been able to see past the loss of this day, even though I've dealt with the loss of the person as much as I could.

This is a day when I fight my own personal demons. Part of me wants to just let go and feel blue. I have to fight hard not to feel like a victim - I think we always feel a victim to the death of someone we love. So instead of allowing it to control my emotions, I choose to think of her life... and thank God for the chance I got to get to know her, albeit too short. I choose to enjoy the fact that I am her legacy. That my life is as a result of hers, and her death will never defeat that... even though her death was her own choice.

And while I choose to remember life, I just can't help feeling sad. Another year has passed, making her memory that much dimmer. Another year has passed with the same emotions returning. Another year has passed without her in it.

So today I remember 28 years ago... and remember the eight years I got to spend with her before then...

I miss you every day Mom

A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton
Making my way downtown
Walking fast
Faces pass
And I'm home bound

Staring blankly ahead
Just making my way
Making a way through the crowd

And I need you
And I miss you
And now I wonder....

If I could fall into the sky
Do you think time would pass me by
'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you
Tonight

It's always times like these when I think of you
And I wonder if you ever
Think of me

'Cause everything's so wrong
And I don't belong
Living in your precious memories

'Cause I need you
And I miss you
And now I wonder....

If I could fall into the sky
Do you think time would pass me by
'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you
Tonight

And I don't want to let you know
I drown in your memory
I don't want to let this go
I don't....

Making my way downtown
Walking fast
Faces pass
And I'm home bound

Staring blankly ahead
Just making my way
Making a way through the crowd

And I still need you
And I still miss you
And now I wonder....

If I could fall into the sky
Do you think time would pass us by
'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you...

If I could fall into the sky
Do you think time would pass me by
'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you
If I could just hold you
Tonight

It's your birthday!

2009-06-02T14:13:00.003+02:00

[Now you've asked for a post about you since I started the blog, and I've held out until the perfect time... so today, I've decided it's that time and you get your own blog... dedicated to you, for all to see...]

You see, 23 years ago I saw Dad and our brother walk down the path to my hostel (yes, I was put into boarding school so I could play sport - you and I are such sporty kids) to tell me that I had a new little sister. I was in Standard 6 then, so the thirteen year gap means you would always be my little sister... and I will always be your big, older brother that is wiser, more experienced and therefore the one you have to obey no matter what your own opinion may be.

I was ecstatic. I finally had a sister - something I'd wanted since I was a child and never thought possible. 2 June 1986 was a day of dreams coming true, and that was just the start of what's been 23 years of joy, delight, love, memories and understanding.

I couldn't wait to be released from the hellhole, I mean hostel, so I could meet you. Eventually the Saturday arrived, and there you were... my sister. You looked like the prettiest burping, grimacing, farting larva-thing I had ever seen and I wasn't so sure how to deal with you. Your mom let me hold you briefly, continuously reminding me to hold your neck. Apparently you couldn't hold it up on your own, and I never questioned her on that... I put you back in your little yellow carry crib and just stared at you, amazed that my life would forever be different, because you were in it. I sat there in the lounge alone with you and put my hand into your little cocoon and felt you take my finger in your paw and grasp it tightly... I just sat there for ages, letting you hold my finger. I knew in that moment that you were my friend for life.

There are so many memories I have of you as a young girl, finding your way in this world. You had so much to deal with from a young age, but you always managed to see the bright side, because, Lord knows, we laughed. You made me laugh from the moment you could, and still have the uncanny ability to bring out the embarrassing, suppressed laugh I usually leave hidden from public display.

And we've shared our darkest moments, and come through stronger, brighter, bushier and better for them... and because we had each other.

I've held onto you like you were the most precious thing on earth and let you go to live your life because I realised that you were.

And now, you're all big and grown up - living the dream (even though you think it's not) and building your life on your own. A future that I think is going to be so bright... I'll be the one sitting in the front row applauding you along life's stage and punching any critic who gets in your way.

Keep going Bekkie-Boo... you've achieved so much in only 23 years... I am so excited about the next 23 and more!

Happy birthday baby sis!

Love you to the moon... and back!!!!

Shall I compare thee to a salesman?

2009-05-26T20:27:00.003+02:00

I'm terrible at selling myself...

You may not think so. Generally I come across as pretty confident and ballsy, but deep down I'm shy. I generally assume you don't remember meeting me and will wait for you to greet me before I greet you even though this may appear aloof. In fact, I'm painfully shy. I'm the guy who sits psyching himself up in the car before a social event, hoping like hell you don't see the stuff I dislike about myself...

I know I'm not alone, so don't feel sorry for me... we're all scared in some way... damn joys of being human...

I think it comes from school... I was never one of the popular kids at school. I could blame it on the fact that I was skinny, but I think it was the fact that I was incredibly geeky. I was in boarding school at a very sporting school.... I've posted before about my fabulous sporting skills... so you should know that somehow I just wouldn't fit in. And I'm gay... so when all the boys were checking out the "chicks", I was wondering what the appeal was and totally confused by their responses...

So I learnt quickly to retreat, rather than to appear different... and to be confident when necessary...

That's all fine for school, but when I grew older, it manifested rather differently. I just could never and still can't sell myself... I tried to freelance as a writer for a while, and realised I needed to change focus after I convinced a potential client that someone else was far better than I was... and promptly lost the job. I also tried to be an actor for a while - at least that way people would know who I was and I would be affirmed by the multitude of Oscars I would win, and the flashes of paparazzi bulbs affirming my existence. And while Charlize and I share the home town, we certainly don't share the same acting success. Largely due to my lack of belief in myself and the fact that she's a supermodel and probably the most beautiful woman in the world, and well, I'm not... beautiful or a woman... so I can't really compete...

I have a cousin named Gerda though, so Charlize and I more similar than she may realise...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnyyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy...

I sucked as an actor because I knew I wasn't the best one out there... and as a freelance writer... but do we ever think we're the best one out there? That's probably when we're worst at our jobs...

My point and I do have one, is that FJ and I have been together for over a year now (which may seem short to you, but feels like a lifetime to me... longest damn year of my life ..... kiiiiiiiiiiddddddddddddddiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnggggggggggggg!), and this year has taught me so much about myself.

I know that I'm grumpy in the morning - especially when I get woken up at 4am because he has to leave to make the flowers grow or pick them or something. At that time of the morning, flowers are my enemy and represent something far different to those of you who occassionaly receive them (if this is your first time here, my partner FJ is a flower farmer).

And I also learnt that i sell myself short...

In all my past relationships I have never really allowed myself to be vulnerable. I have never told partners or even friends that I love them unless they have told me first - for fear of over selling where I stand with them, and assuming that they're feeling the same zeal for having me in their life as I feel for them... except FJ. I decided to risk all and tell him how I felt before he told me. I spoke to my sister about it first and thought for weeks about how I could slip it into the conversation appropriately...

I mean how do you tell someone you love them?

Rambler: Hi FJ

FJ: Hi rambler. How was your day?

Rambler: Fine thanks and yours?

FJ: Fine thanks.. growing flowers all day.. you know how it goes...

Rambler: [LAUGHS] Oh FJ, you're so funny... love you

Or...

FJ: Hi Rambler

Rambler: Hi FJ

FJ: How are you?

Rambler: In love with you and how are you?

Or

FJ: Hi Rambler... 'sup with you?

Rambler: Nothing, FJ... but shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

FJ: Okaaaaaaay... if you wanna... but then I have to change the irrigation system in the greenhouses, because it's winter and we're totally reliant on the correct temperatures to grow the buds which then get sent out to the Middle East when appropriately budded...

Rambler: Ok, love you...

So I had no idea how to throw this into the conversation without sounding like a turd or someone who had planned it... badly...

I actually have no idea how I first told him... I have no idea what came up before I told him.... but I remember throwing it in... and hoping like hell I never got a 'thanks' back...

It went something like this:

FJ: blah blah blah

Rambler: I love you

FJ: [blank]

Rambler: [breathes heavily trying to control panic]

FJ: [eyes widen as he takes in what has been thrown at him]

Rambler: [wipes sweat from brow]

FJ: Um, I think I'm aware of that...

I THINK I'M AWARE OF THAT!

I'm not sure FJ realised just how much I put myself on the line... but that's the thing... I decided that it wouldn't sway me... A few weeks later Idecided to remind him of what he was so apparently aware of and this time I got the correct response... and felt totally relieved... and loved...

And I realised that I needn't feel insecure.. or feel that I don't make the grade... I need to start being like the rest of the world and go after what I want and make sure I hold onto the good stuff that's in my life, even though it may simply be aware of my passion and not necessarily equipped to return it.

I could have run... and given my track record, I generally would of, but in this last year and a bit I have learnt that I am worth more than I give myself credit for, that I have more to offer than I realised, that I may not be the best at everything, but someone else's adequacy doesn't mean my inadequacy. I learnt that I can be loved, even when I put myself at risk... and that risk often has the best dividends...

And most of all, I realised that my butt looks amazing in skinny jeans...

Queens, presidents and marches

2009-05-25T16:16:00.004+02:00

I've been sitting racking my brain to try and remember what I did on Friday night and I have no idea. You see, the weekend was so jam-packed, and given that I'm closer to 40 than I am to 20 I only tend to remember the big things. Trying to remember if I locked the car, where I parked it and if I did anything interesting on Friday night just doesn't have space amongst deadlines for two magazines, friends trying to convince FJ and I to get married sooner than we've planned and trying to think of what to wear with skinny jeans.

I think Friday was spent in, watching reality TV but I could be wrong. I also have a head cold, so that should clinch the lack of memory deal...

The rest of the weekend was incredibly interesting! For a change...

Now some of you know that I struggle with the concept of Gay Pride marches... I've posted about it before, and a friend of mine, Jeanine (who has just started a fabulous blog which you should read), has been challenging a lot of my thinking on the IDAHO holding hands and pride marches. Her and I have always come from different perspectives on gay politics, and although I think we've challenged and influenced each other positively, we still come from different places. Don't you love friends who challenge you, don't agree with you, but are still prepared to argue, debate and listen without tension and a threat to friendship? I hold onto people like that in my life, although at times I want to put a pillow over their militant heads... hehehe...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnyyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy...

I've read her comments with interest and decided that I would attend the Joburg Gay Pride AGM on Saturday morning to see what pride was really about. I've walked on half a march before and slipped out when I spotted some friends at a pub, and mc'ed the Cape Town pride after parties for a couple of years, but never fully understood the concept. Pride seemed dated and unsure of what it was - is it a party? is it a rally? is it a day we ask for respect? is it a day to show the world how flamboyant we are?

After going to the meeting I think I may have run ahead in my judgements. And I will share these thoughts when I've formulated them well... but let's just say, I'm thinking the media don't get it and that's why the straight communities don't - that's either the fault of pride's communication (which I'm gathering it's not) or the media choose to focus on the flamboyance and ignore the message behind the day. Watch this space...

I then went to a drag show on Saturday night and had great fun watching Crystal Carrington lip sync to songs I'd never heard before. I'm not sure if many people have seen real drag queens, who don't just impersonate women, but actually hold an entire show together with witty (and generally below the very tucked in belt) banter and show that the word artiste in drag artiste is something earned rather than applied... something worth seeing...

On Sunday, I went to a spectacle of a different kind and watched our newly elected President open a mall in Alexandra... I've never seen a President in the flesh, so I was rather excited, and let me say he doesn't disappoint. While he never sang or danced, he came across as very warm, humorous and a President for the people. There was a huge crowd who were so excited to see him, and for a moment I saw outside of the media's presentation and what could be our "white fear" as he engaged with the crowd. Once again, when you see someone's humanity you warm to them, and I think a lot has been "lost in translation" by the media the more I work with the ruling party...

So from gay politics, to camp gender benders, to country leaders - all in one weekend...

Oh, and I watched High School Musical 3 in between...

Go Wild Cats!

Closer to 20? Yes I am!

2009-05-22T13:26:00.006+02:00

I decided to embrace my young-at-heart attitude and let it reflect in my outer appearance. It was a difficult decision to come to, after all, I am closer to 40 than I am to 20, but then again, I am closer to 20 than I am to 60, and feel the need to embrace it.

Some, when reaching this (shall we call it mid-life crisis) choose to do spectacular things to hide from the reality that the greys are starting to outweigh the browns. Realising that you're not the spring chicken you used to be does cause anxiety, especially amongst gay men, who have this weird obsession with youth. I can judge it, because I understand it (live, it dream it, breathe it... poor, poor Joseph whatcha gonna do?)

I have no idea how Andre Lloyd-Webber snuck in there... it's either got to to do with me being in Friday mode, a bit too much champagne last night, or my obsession with finding a new Joseph amongst the feminine men they're auditioning on the BBC at the moment...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnyyywaaaaaaaaaaay...

Back to my ageing dilemma... yes, let's keep it about me shall we?

I thought long and hard about the fact that for about three more years I will be closer to 20 than 60... After that, I may not be able to blog with my arthritic fingers, so I decided to take a chance, and do something completely drastic.

Now, you may think, shoo, Rambler went bungee jumping.

No

I do not need to fling myself off a bridge, screaming while my urine sprays into the air behind me to prove that I'm young. I will do that when I'm older to affirm that I am senile.

You may think I bought a Ferrari...

No

I do not need a car that costs more than my house to prove that I don't have a small, um, bank balance... or that I can pull youngsters by standing outside the gym revving and smiling... yes you know who you are, you spandex freak! And we can still see your hair plugs even though the car's roof is so low...

Annnnnnnyyyywaaaaaaaaaaayyyy...

You may think I decided to resign from my goodie-bag filled job and see the world with a backpack on...

No

I have a job with goodie bags, remember. My life is complete.

Except for my youth - I still need to hold onto that....

You may think I dyed my hair blonde, or waxed off all my body hair...

No

I could never be blonde, not because I don't want more fun (as apparently blondes do) but I have an olive skin and will seriously look jaundiced if I ever went blonde... and now that I have a muscle, people may think I'm trying to audition for the Rocky Horror show (the skinny Africa-famine version).

You may think I left FJ for a far younger model to prove my virility and charm to younger folk...

No

Let me remind you that FJ is younger than I am, so I proved that ages ago...

Ahem

No... I did something far more radical than that. I did the most daring thing I could think of. I went where no person my age has yet dared to go... and proved that I too can be young, virile and totally with the in-crowd...

That's right folks...

I bought skinny jeans

Pretty, black and tight...

*bows*

Explanation

2009-05-19T16:14:00.006+02:00

The last post was a written display of my my state of mind... a long scream followed by expletives. I'm aware I write a PG blog so don't use horrible words but believe me they are flying around in my mind...

I'm just such a stress bunny, and trying to control it, because it really doesn't help... I always think of the worst possible scenarios for any event then work out ways to avoid them happening, which is helpful in my line of work, but incredibly tiring, and doesn't make the most pleasant guy to be around.

And I'm generally pretty pleasant...

And pretty...

And pleasant...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy...

Bear with me in my busyness, and unpleasantness...

I will return, with a vengeance...

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh

2009-05-19T16:07:00.000+02:00

Bloody hell...

Holding hands continued and a bit of gambling

2009-05-14T15:53:00.004+02:00

After my post about holding hands I thought I would investigate a bit more about why so much attention is being paid to 17 May as a day to remember gay rights and protest for acceptance. I didn't have to go to far - I was sent a mail which explained it all and made me think a bit further than my possibly glib response to the hand holding protest being planned for that day.

You see, I think gay couples holding hands publicly as a form of protest in South Africa is unnecessary because it doesn't make sense. We have a constitution that protects our relationships and are allowed to enjoy legal protection of those relationships in a union recognised in the same category as marriage under the law. So we don't need to protest for formal acceptance of our relationships thanks to a constitution considered to be the most forward thinking in the world.

But, in thinking further, I think the hand holding protest in the context of the USA is a good one. There they have had their rights stripped away after Prop 8. Relationships that were once recognised by law (like Ellen de Generes's marriage to Portia) is now under threat, and legal action is being taken to have those marriages annulled. All this quite reminiscent of Prop 6 and Anita Bryant (is she still alive by the way?). If you don't know what I'm tlking about then get yourself to a cinema to see Milk.

So, in that context, a protest to affirm their unions is appropriate. I know that I would be hacked if FJ and I were married and then forced to divorce through no choice of our own. It denies someone their humanity after affording it to them... even more offensive. I know some claim it on religious grounds, but imagine if I, on religious grounds, demanded that all people who had been married and divorced and were now remarried were to have their marriages annulled because the Bible equates divorce and remarriage to adultery.

On 17 May 1990 the World Health Organisation took homosexuality off the list of mental disorders. 1990 feels like just the other day, but it's almost 20 years ago. So it's a day that gay people should celebrate. The big guys decided we weren't freaks... and that our attractions were normal (in our contexts) and could not successfully be reversed.

17 May will be the International Day against Homapphobia (IDAHO) and so I think it's appropriate that South Africa celebrates it. How I have no idea. And we need to protest communities that rape gay women to change them (relatively common in South Africa) or even murdered for their sexuality. And we need to stand up to the witch hunts in places like Uganda. Once again, how? Lord knows we don't need another pride march... I really think the gay community needs to rethink those... anyone have thoughts on gay pride marches?

But I do understand the need to protest. So please don't think my previous post was dissuading militance. I just think it needs to be thought out, appropriately communicated and executed as effectively as possible.

Okay, I know I lost some of you along the way there... hehe... but this is my space to ramble...

On a lighter note, my blackberry and I are in love. Especially since it has Texas Hold'Em poker on it. I've never really been a keen fan of card games and thought I'd check it out when I saw it was on my phone. And let's just say I'm a terrible poker player, but I can't stop trying to get better. I've lost hundreds of thousands of dollars (virtual) by now, but can't stop. FJ is tolerating it for now, but I knew it was bad when I woke up early so I could play, and when I looked again, I was running late for work.. I was even tempted to play in the car while I was driving but decided against that (thank goodness).

I can easily see how people get sucked into casino's and spend their days throwing notes onto tables or into machines. This is a side of me I never expected... and will have to watch...

Okay, who wants to bet on Adam Lambert winning Idols???

Pretty little black things

2009-05-13T15:29:00.002+02:00

Things have been pretty manic round here. I edit two magazines that are needing attention and the one is really turning out to be a tad more difficult than anticipated. It's a political slant magazine and can not go into the details, but just to say that other than being incredibly frustrating (for all), it's also one of the most interesting projects I have worked on. That all said... I'm still managing to get to the gym and starting to feel more confident about myself daily.

FJ and I bought Polar watches which monitor our progress weekly by monitoring the heart rate and how long you spend in certain zones based on the speed of your beating heart. FJ breathes on his and it wracks up 600 kilocalories and awards him with a trophy (yes, if you hit your target you get a trophy symbol on the watch). I have tried to keep my jealousy below the surface, but I'm sure he's realised as he stops showing his little animated reward for being fabulously fit to me. I think it was me spitting on the watch, but who can tell?

You see, try as I may I can never get that damn watch to clock up the calories. I worked my butt off the two week ago - I ran and cycled as if I was a teenager (more than I did as a teenager in fact) and got a little star as the watch proclaimed... 'Nice'.

NICE!

I could hardly walk up stairs and it says nice!

Then last week I worked even harder. I ran like Forrest Gump spotting chocolate on the opposite side of the gym, sweating like a sow giving birth to an elephant, and finally... managed to get my trophy.

I glowed in the delight... but have yet to regain feeling in my legs.

On Monday morning, my pretty little watch informed me that this week I would need to train like last week if I wanted to retain my trophy, so it now has a lovely little home in the back of my cupboard until it changes its attitude. Cheeky little pretty black things...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanywwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy...

One last update... I am the proud owner of a Blackberry Bold which will change the way I connect with the world. The Bold and the Shoes are planning to hit the town this weekend to see if they can make the social pages once again...

Ah, I do love having pretty black things in my life...

Whhheeeeeee

2009-05-12T15:01:00.001+02:00

am here
busy as hell
mag going to print next week
no time to blog
but miss y'all
so feel free to chat amongst yourselves
will post more asap
promise

Gosh..

2009-05-08T10:11:00.006+02:00

I never though my has-been status would create so much interest. I have considered revealing my secret - but Clark Kent didn't just come out and admit he was Superman to everyone now did he? It's all part of my allure - not telling you when I was a fat c-status celebrity who advised women on how to decorate their homes and bake cakes with sweetener...

Seriously...

You wouldn't remember it anyway.

It was a lot of fun, but being recognised in the middle of the grocery store wasn't my idea of fun, so I'm not sure how real celebrities (with talent) handle it.

So let's change the subject shall we... and move onto more interesting things than my has-been status.

The 17th of May is National Hand Holding Day - or something like that. It's part of a campaign to promote equal rights for gays and lesbians (GLBT) and they've asked that all gay couples hold hands in public so as to highlight the awareness of our plight for equal rights.

I cringe...

I'm not anti-public affection. I'm very aware of it though. In all of my relationships I have never encouraged public affection and never walked through the mall holding hands with my boyfriend. FJ and I hold hands a lot. He's what you might call a "digit clasper" - he holds my hand whenever he can. We'll hold hands in a cinema, but never stroll through the foyer clasping each others paws though.

You see, holding hands in public - if you're gay - is more than a statement of being together. It becomes a political statement, and generally gets a response. Some people point at you, talk behind your back and some friends I know have even been insulted by people as they walk past. Two men holding hands (out of a cultural context i.e. some cultures allow men holding hands as a symbol of friendship) is seen as disgusting to some, and an offence to them.

Two women seem to get away with it. The assumption is that it could be a friendship gesture and the natural response of the viewer isn't to associate it with a homosexual relationship.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaannnnyywwaaayyy...

My point, and I have one, is that I'm not ready to hold hands in public. I don't want to make political statements. I don't want to rub another person's nose into the fact that I'm gay. I don't think holding hands should ever become a political statement and why I won't be a part of it.

Gay liberation has moved on since "We're here, we're queer, get used to it" - a popular gay pride slogan chanted for years. They know we're here. They had to sit through eight seasons of Will & Grace. People don't need to see us as hand holding couples walking through malls to understand that we deserve a chance to be seen as viable couples.

I agree with Harvey Milk's stance - I think gay men and women should come out and live responsible, mature and productive lives - actively adding to the lives of others and the communities in which they live - that generates acceptance.

I remember sitting with a friend, who I met though this blog (and hope she won't mind me using this as an illustration). We were having a very pleasant lunch and had spoken before about her struggle with homosexuality in a church and biblical context. She sat looking at FJ and I and commented that she really felt the Bible wasn't speaking about what FJ and I had. Because, well, we were pretty normal (my thinking - not hers). We are a regular couple who integrate well with others as a couple. We just happen to be two men.

But seeing our humanity, and not us as "type", changes the idea of what a gay person is in many people's minds. Two men walking in a street through a mall represent "type". A gay man or woman adding to your life is humanity. That's gay pride for me.

Gay men and women need to stop demanding for it all now by trying to make radical statements to force people, especially more conservative folk, who have a strong belief in the perceived biblical view of homosexuality to accept them (us). We need to ease people into accepting us. As couples, as friends, as people. By showing them that we're just like them.

Tales of a has-been

2009-05-06T16:24:00.008+02:00

Well, I think you have to have been something significant before you can be called a has-been, but I think you can safely refer to my acting career as a has-been career... a rather insignificant one by most standards, but a stand-out time in my life nonetheless.

You see, there were days, at the beginning of this millennium, when I used to be considered 'recognisable'. I was regularly on TV for a year (every night in fact) and was part of a small weekly chat show/info-mercial/cheesy commercial thing that, to some, made me worth staring at in the streets and pointing at in bars. It was nothing special, but fabulously well paid.

To some, it made me cool enough to invite to their functions, and to some, I was suddenly considered good enough to introduce to their friends. I'm not going to share details about what I was in, but let's just say, um, I've lost a lot of weight since then.

Yep, I was that fat guy on TV. In fact, I was showing FJ (I think) the videos recently and couldn't believe how huge my jowls were. In fact, it looked like my cheeks were stuffed with little children. Really fat little children. In reality, I've only lost about 5 kilos since my TV days, but I think that four of them were on my cheeks.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnyyywaaaaaaaaaayyyyy...

Since those days, I (along with my acting career) have faded into obscurity. For many years I was involved in the film industry (behind the scenes though) and became the person who made other people famous and actually really enjoyed that more than being stopped in the street by some person wanting to announce that they recognised me.

Gradually I went from being greeted, to being asked if I used to be on TV, to the stage that I sometimes still get... "I'm sure I know you from somewhere". And no matter how much I assure the person that I have never met them, they are convinced that they have met me before. That's starting to lessen now though. Especially since my cheeks decided to move to my stomach and join the fat residence there.

So, I'm certainly not used to the spotlight... anymore.

Recently I moved back into magazines (which I used to work on before my TV stint) and as a result get invited to many, many launches where I get fabulous goodie bags and show the shoes off in the hope that I give a client editorial. At these events I see everyone else being stopped to have their photo taken, and I stand smiling, hoping that I too will be picked and also have a really bad picture of me after a glass too many on the back of some newspaper being read on the loo.

Alas, it never seems to happen. Even when I'm wearing the shoes.!!!

I thought it may happen when I sat next to an ex-Miss South Africa's boob (those things should have a licence) but I was cropped out and only my shoulder made the grade.

But now... It's finally happened.

I've graced the pages of a local mag and don't actually look that bad (I had just arrived so hadn't drunk myself pretty or confident yet).

I'm finally a socialite. On the social pages.

Me.

Soon I'll be friends with Edith Venter and also wear curtain fabric dresses to fancy soirees that Gwen Gill writes about.

It's hell being famous...

The News

2009-05-05T10:23:00.007+02:00

I hate the news... mostly because I feel out of control. And I hate feeling out of control. I hate things happening that I can't keep a lid on...

Like upgrading to a blackberry phone... which I'm in the process of doing. Should be simple! I order the phone, do all the necessary paperwork... go through all the steps (feeling completely in control) to be told they're out of stock and I'll have to wait a few weeks to get the phone.

Out of control. This was the third conversation we'd had mister Italk man. You could have told me this at the beginning, instead of telling me I would have the phone in 3 days.

I'm usually pretty patient about these things. Years ago I would have cancelled the contract and gone to another service provider who did have stock, but I've realised now that I can't control everything... much to my disdain. And I've realised that getting angry when speaking to call centre people is useless. They hate their job more than I hate their bad service. And I don't blame them. I worked in a corporate company recently, and it was more than I can handle. It was me or the beige walls - one of us had to go. I had my own little cubicle that felt like a cage. And I had to mail the entire company when I stepped away from my desk... "Hi all, just going to poo. See you later."

Degrading stuff. For all you corporate types, I take my hate off to you.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy....

So I will wait for my blackberry... because it's pretty, and black... and will allow me to feed my blogging and facebook addiction at no extra charge. (It has free BIS - which I liked when I read up on the phone - only because it contained the word free. I'm not sure what BIS is, but it's free and makes surfing free, so I love it). So it will help me keep my bill in control.

I do love the word free. It can pretty much get me to buy anything... the one offer was this crappy little Samsung that was so inefficient you had to practically be standing next to the person before you could have a conversation, but they offered a free Playstation 3 with the contract, and boy oh boy, was I tempted. A PS3 would look lovely with my big, pretty, black TV.

But I resisted... because I am in control... and ordered my blackberry bold. With free BIS.

But back to the news, which was the real point of my post...

I read on News 24 about a Senegalese man who's body was exhumed from a Muslim cemetary because the man was believed to be gay. I felt my blood boil and that out of control feeling came back. I suppose it's the ultimate denial of your humanity - that you aren't able to rot in a piece of ground because of a sexuality you had no control in choosing. I don't understand how a man's sexuality can be that offensive that he can not be buried somewhere - how does his sexuality or where he decomposes really affect anyone?

It's a sad world when lesbians are raped in an attempt to convert them by showing them what they're missing... and where I receive mails asking to assist people in hiding because of witch hunts for homosexuals in Uganda.

Why are the Church not preaching love your neighbour as you love yourself in these instances? Jesus never said love your neighbour (but only if he or she is like you) as you love yourself... I think we as Christ followers, need to look more at the teachings of Christ. I'll say something controversial now - but I think being a Chirst follower means focussing on his teachings as the main thrust of our beliefs - as opposed to being a Paul follower, who was a man and wrote in the context of his times for a Church that was in it's infancy.

I think Jesus would expect us to be a lot more vocal about acceptance - because he saw humanity and not 'type' - than some churches are today. The church preaching acceptance would draw more people to it.

I hope we get to a point in our humanity where we stand up for the rights of others, even if their lifestyles don't fit our mould. Where we sit at the table with those who are ostracised by communities because we appreciate the humanity in them. And when people will not be judged because of their gender, race and sexuality - three things that humans have no control over.

I wish I knew what to do to help this man's family. All I can think off is speaking about it on this platform...

Okay, off to a happier place - going to watch the door to see if I get my blackberry...

The Little Sparrow

2009-05-04T12:09:00.002+02:00

The public holiday frenzy is over, so we have to knuckle down to another 5 day week - it's been a while I tell ya. And boy, oh boy, did FJ and I make the most of our holiday time - doing absolutely nothing. I'm not sure if FJ has slept this much in a while, and I'm not sure I have either - remember he's a 4am riser, and I only rise on a Tuesday and remain in a haze for most of Monday, but today I feel strangely refreshed. It may fade after lunchtime, but for now I do feel a bit recharged.

We did watch a very good movie this weekend (well two) - I'll go with the more commercial first - we watched Wolverine, and had a great time. I think Hugh Jackman should be in more movies, and spend a lot more time without his shirt on. In fact, I think he should never wear a shirt again. Ever.

And then we watched La Vie en Rose - about the life of Edith Piaf.

I know!

How gay are we?

Well, FJ got a CD of hers for his birthday, and I've had one that I was given a while back - being gay means we are expected to enjoy her music. The CD I own has sat on the shelf, getting dustier and dustier (I really should use my duster on it), while FJ's is in his car, getting limited airplay.

Now I think she has a lovely voice, and the music is okay for what it is, and after seeing her life story (which is what La Vie en Rose is about), I think she was incredibly troubled and did really well to get off the streets and make music that got to the soul of Paris, but, hell, if being gay means I have to listen to that all day, then I'm going to seriously question my sexuality.

That's the thing about being gay - it means that you are expected to like certain female vocalists - there are a number of writers who have spoken about the gay male affinity to strong female vocalists and the reasons - but I won't get into that here.

So you're expected to like Barbra Streisand... tick. You should like Madonna. Well, love her is more appropriate... tick (I don't trust gay men who don't like Madonna). Britney gets mixed reviews - but generally she's loved by the gays... tick. Cher... tick. Bette Midler... tick. Judy Garland - okay, now I start turning straight... Eartha Kitt... losing me people, losing me... and Edith Piaf... I'm gone...

Try as I may, I just don't get her...

Not that I'm concerned.. but at least I gave her a go...

Ahem...

On a different note - thank you to for all the responses and facebook mails to my post about the movie Milk. If you haven't seen it yet, then I highly recommend you do. It is really interesting and sure to connect with you on some level - even if it is just Sean Penn's performance.

Happy 100

2009-04-29T13:41:00.001+02:00

Today is my 100th post... who would have thought? I started this blog thinking it would die a very quick death (this is not my first blog...) , but instead it has become my addiction, my space to rant and my space to connect with people I wouldn't normally have the opportunity to connect with...

So thanks y'all for reading... sometimes commenting, sometimes laughing, sometimes relating, but always feeding my addiction...

Milk

2009-04-28T16:07:00.004+02:00

Saturday night was pretty memorable. I went to see an incredible movie called Milk, which I'm sure you've heard about (Mr Penn won the Oscar for his mind-blowingly brilliant performance). I think he got tips from his ex-wife?

Now, you may recall that I posted about the fact that I cry pretty easily in movies. So I knew that I may shed the odd tear - I know the basic premise of the story. For those of you who don't - it's based on the life of Harvey Milk who was the first openly gay man to be elected into public office in the States. It's set in the 70s, and Milk, after seeing the way gay men (there aren't many gay women in the movie) were treated by the police and businesses around his, decides to stand for office in an attempt to change the way gay people are treated, and most importantly seen. He transcends from a hippie gay man to a respected man in the community, who is pivotal in standing up against Proposition 6 which was wanting to stop gay people from not being discriminated against - especially in the workplace. Anti-gay activists like Anita Bryant and John Briggs were spearheading the campaign and wanted gay people removed from working in schools - for fear of them influencing the children and making them turn out gay too.

Milk turns his attention on getting Americans to vote against Prop 6 by encouraging gay people to come out and reveal their sexuality to those around them. Something I can only imagine being terrifying at the time. I think I cried through most of the movie, not just at the movie's and his tragic end, because it resonates so much with me as a gay man, and a man who speaks out against prejudice and tries to find a bridge to acceptance (even if it is on this small platform called 'In the now...')

I've shared my journey before, but this movie hit me hard. I remember the first time I came out to a friend - it was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. She reads this blog and is still one of the most amazing friends I have (I'll call her Tart)... and she was the first person I told. It wasn't easy for her to hear, mostly because it was difficult for me to tell her. I couldn't say the word 'gay' because it was such an embarrassing word for me. In my mind it meant dirty, and deviant. I was also the first gay person in her circle of friends and that would have all sorts of consequences - sharing in my silence, lying to friends to protect me and hearing all my woeful stories about my unwanted sexuality. She has been instrumental in my acceptance of myself and I want to honour her in this.

I told Tart many years before a member of my family ever knew. I was too terrified to tell them. I had grown up my entire life desperate for their approval and especially my Dad's and admitting to being different to what they expect is hard. I think the hardest part in coming out is that their response might just affirm the loathing I felt for myself - that I was some sort of pervert, less of a man than others and destined to be seen as disgusting.

I first told my brother - I've mentioned before that I told him by fax, which should remind you that I'm closer to 40 than I am to 20. I called him to forewarn him and said that he should read the fax with his wife when he got home and call me if he wanted to. He phoned back almost immediately and reassured me of his love for me, but told me of his concerns.

Gay people grieve their sexuality - I've said this before and I'll stick to it - whether they grieve their loss of perceived "normality", their loss of the possibility to have children in a "natural" setting, a loss of relationship with the church or other religious institution and for some the potential to lose their family.

But the family grieve too. And not many family members know how to grieve, especially when it comes to their child's sexuality. That's why I believe in dialogue - even if you think homosexuality is a sin and, may go as far as perceiving it as deviant, you may have a child, family member or friend who happens to be gay, and your response is instrumental in their lives.

Grieving is appropriate.

So my brother responded with grief - he cried, as did I, and said he wished that things could be different. But no matter what he felt, his assurance of his love for me, helped me like myself just that little bit more.

I then told my younger sister - who's significantly younger than me in years, but my twin in every other way. Her response was incredible. She immediately thought of who she could set me up with and was more upset that my brother knew before her. She's has been more militant in promoting acceptance for gay people than I have - starting with a school play that she directed that was about exactly that. Pretty damn daring for a Benoni school play, let me tell ya. I never saw it, but friends did, and that was one of the proudest moments of my life... and made me like myself a little bit more.

My Dad then found out... not in a way I would have wanted him to, but his discovery was out of my control and the hardest for all of the family.

There are different generations that deal with homosexuals differently. You have the generations that Harvey Milk experienced who vilified gays and saw them as abominations - evil creatures out to corrupt children and destroy family values . These anti-gay people still exist, and I'm not sure if much can be done to dissuade them.

Then you have a younger generation, who have, through people like Milk's encouragement, met openly gay men and women and been able to see past 'type' and see the human behind the label. Some have been able to say "I know a gay and he seems fine" and then there are those who have managed to integrate gay folk into their circle of friends. Women have been better at this than men in general, but that's a post on it's own.

And then there are the post-Will and Grace generation who have grown up with gay people on their TV screens and around them, and have no issue with it...

I witnessed all those generations in my family... and my Dad surprised me the most. He struggled with it, still does, but has chosen to love me, and see past the label of gay. He's told me he wished I could settle down with a young lady and have kids, but that doesn't mean he doesn't respect FJ and my choice to be with him.

And his respect for me and my choices has helped me like myself a whole lot more.

Milk, as you can tell, left me thinking long and hard about the struggle that has gone on before me so that I can freely post about my journey as a gay man. The fact that I could even come out and be honest with the people who mean the most to me, is thanks to people like him.

That's why I will continue to be vocal. Continue to find ways to build bridges between people of differing opinions, and why I will continue to present gay people as human beings with a right to live their lives maturely, relate to their God as they want to, and be accepted into communities as people, and not types to be afraid of, mocked, rejected or even beaten or murdered for their sexuality.

Braindead Friday

2009-04-24T15:06:00.004+02:00

Happy to report that Nana is standing on just over 4 000 votes. The ANC have just hit over 10 million votes. Apparently it cost R500 000 to register a party? So that's quite expensive per vote for Nana (she represents Women Forward). Excluding marketing costs it must have cost her around R115 a vote. Compare that to the ANC's campaign, and they're around 50c a vote, so Nana paid a lot...

She's like the Ferrari of the elections... very expensive, and only for the elite few... lucky lady... no wonder she smiles so nicely.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaayyy...

Enough of the election stuff. It's all very exciting but there are more important things to consider...

um...

um...

um...

Apparently Susan Boyle has had a makeover. That should get people talking. Have yet to see it though...

Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmm.....

Oh, Monday's a public holiday.

Ummmmmmmmmmmm...

Please tell me there's more interesting stuff?

bullets... again

2009-04-23T15:08:00.003+02:00

One of those days so blogging in bullets:

long weekend ahead - no plans, but am sure FJ will make me exercise at some time, which means I will be forced not to watch tv on my new flat screen
I don't mind exercising...
prefer it in front of the TV though (with popcorn and fattening food)
stood in the cold in the queue to vote and didn't mind it at all
I see Nana has 1 500 votes so far
ANC has 4 000 000...
am sure Nana will catch up
apologies for man boobs in post below
will never google man boobs again
still gagging
worked out extra hard after posting that post
for fear of developing man boobs
am now keen to buy mountain bikes
think it's the man boobs
retracting first statement - hope FJ makes me exercise for fear of developing man boobs
will not say man boobs again in this post
unless you want me too
man boobs

Elections and boobs

2009-04-21T15:14:00.003+02:00

All this campaigning and endorsing is quite something. I have just received another mail from a group telling me which party and candidate they are endorsing, which I find quite weird... it's like me saying that I will be voting a certain party, and that means that you should too, because I endorse them... on that note - viva NANA!

Then again, I agree with a lot of the reasons for endorsing certain parties - especially when it comes to gay folk. We do need to make sure we vote for someone who has our interests in mind, which crosses ACDP off the list. Zuma has also said some nasty things about gay people. He did apologise, but, hey, true colours shone before the apology tried to dim it.

And Cope's presidential candidate headed up a committee against same-sex marriage and unions. Thing is, I really like him. I studied with Rev. Dandala's son, and met him on a number of occassions while we both worked for the Methodist Church. I was a little youth pastor and he was the bishop, so we weren't exactly chinas. But he's a great guy, and has loads to offer.

DA have never openly endorsed gay unions, but never been against them - they let their candidates vote as they saw fit - but they do have a number of gay candidates on the list.

And ID have always been open about their belief that gays should be able to marry. I think Patty is a bit of a fag hag...

So, policy aside, that's a major factor in who I vote for. I like that FJ and I will be married next year... well, in a civil union. That means everything to me, so it helps when people who make the rules think so too...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaannnnyyywaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyy... I'll stop with my 5 cents worth...

I went to gym yesterday, and now I have sore boobs. I think I know what boobs feel like now because I can feel things on my chest that I've never felt before. When I go down stairs, my pecs jiggle (a bit) and now that they're sensitive they feel all weird and sore... and whenever someone touches them or prods me, I want to go through the ceiling... not that boobs are sore (although sometimes they are)... um... can you tell I don't interact with boobs often?

Okay, let me go before I make a tit of myself.

Hahaha

I slay myself...

It's finally happened...

2009-04-20T13:58:00.005+02:00

Monday... blegh...

At least Wednesday is a holiday, although I do hope all South Africans will be heading off to vote. I did all those online voting things and am not voting for who they suggested, although it seems I agree with a lot of their policy...

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnyyyywwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaayyyyy...

Last Friday I left you with the news that FJ wanted to take up mountain biking. And this weekend we went off to price bikes and gear, and see where we would store the things. And as much as your encouragements to embrace my role as sideline supporter were very helpful, I just could never bring myself to sit back and watch FJ. And after chatting to him, he explained that it wasn't about being competitive but just getting out and having some fun - even if we just went to the farm (FJ is a farmer) and rode around there.

Now the farm and I aren't friends... it's beautiful, but I don't get a cellphone signal, so I feel totally isolated when I go there... and there's no where to buy a latte in the immediate vicinity. It's so, um, rural...

So I decided to use the tactic that I know no man can resist. After many years of being a man... ahem... and dating them too, I know exactly how to get a man to change his mind and do what you want...

Yep, I did what you're thinking...

I offered him a gadget.

I explained how the money spent on bikes and equipment would be far better suited to buying something pretty...

And big...

And black...

He agreed.

You guessed it people!!!

I finally have a TV that's pretty, big and black (and HD ready)...

You see, I asked and I received... maybe there's something in this Secret thing....

Now if only Robert Pattinson will call...

Hill street blues

2009-04-17T15:23:00.006+02:00

Joy to the world, Fri-day has come... let earth receive weekend...

I'm digging this Friday thing, mostly because I feel like weekend. Tonight we're going to a local down the road and all I can think of is a nice sugary cocktail, followed by a good natter. Weird how the simple things in life give me such pleasure.

I've just read FJ's blog and he was talking about me... which I like. I like attention and prefer if it's in writing. So feel free to write [good] things about me. I will read it, I promise...

But I got a bit distressed when I read his blog. He was speaking about being all active and doing things on the weekend other than shopping, eating or sleeping... The words mountain and biking were thrown into the blog and said it would be decided after discussion with me.

Now, listen here, I'm all for mountains - I lived near one in Cape Town for a while, and being from Benoni means I'm even used to ugly ones (I only discovered Benoni's mine dump wasn't its version of Table Mountain shortly after I discovered I wasn't the tooth fairy. I mean there wasn't a tooth fairy). Benoni is actually very pretty. Well, Charlize is pretty, and that makes us all pretty by default.

Aaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnyyyyywwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy...

So it seems there may be talk of us mountain biking... and even if I decide not to I'll have to go watch... and you know how cool that is - me, the wives and the fem lesbian partners sitting on the sidelines yelling "go baby" as someone you think is your partner covered in mud and blood (from skidding off the bike) and a bad helmet cycle past.

Oh. My. Gawd.

I can not mountain bike...

Helmet hair... hello?!

But what do I do? I refuse to sit on the sidelines and watch FJ become more fit and gorgeous while I eat cupcakes with the gals on the side. But, seriously, me on a mountain? On a bike? With a helmet?

I see Mel just suggested triathlons to his request for suggestions. I fainted when I read her suggestion of Iron Man competitions but on rereading see she wasn't really suggesting them. Um, thanks. Last week this time I was bitching about going on a long walk, now I have to go look for a mountain bike and see if hairnets stop helmet hair.

I'm not sure I can ride a bike any more actually. Unless it strapped to the floor like the ones at the gym. I'm probably as good at biking as I am at throwing .

Um, FJ wants suggestions of what sports he can add to his insane workout regime that I get swooped into... How about suggestions of how I can get out of them???

Election blues

2009-04-16T16:49:00.003+02:00

I have no idea who to vote for.

Mambaonline have just posted an article where they give a run down of the main political parties and chat through the various pro's and cons. Obviously from a gay perspective. The gay vote is used by various political parties - some affirming their belief that same sex couples have a right to a civil union, while others are firmly against the gays and using it as part of their platform to redeem family values - these are obviously more "christian" parties. I find it interesting that the gay agenda is so high, and yet street children (caused by poverty) are not - that's obviously more of a destruction of family values.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnyyyywaaaaaaaaaaayyyy...

It's all so confusing...

The ANC are going to win. Zuma will be our next president.

I'm fine with that.

Seriously...

So, how will my little vote make a difference - for or against them?

Well, everyday I walk along my street in Parkhurst and see Nana's smiling face... I've not seen her posters anywhere, except for my street. And every day she smiles at me (I think it's because she's realised she's the only poster on the street and has a captive audience, or she just had her teeth whitened and wants Parkhurst to see) and asks me to vote. Because if I vote for her, I'll be helping women in the country, according to her poster. And who am I not to help the women of our country?

And, I think, she has such a lovely face that I wouldn't mind seeing more of her glimmering smile. She might actually be unemployed so if I rally enough votes together, maybe I can get her a seat in parliament and a job by default. That way I'll be helping the unemployed and women... now that's making a difference.

I'm not sure if she can speak English or if she does anything more than smile... but, after seeing her poster everyday, it's convincing me that she's the one... Tomorrow, when I walk through the street I may just see what party she represents and that will help me put an 'x' next to her name.

So, um, VIVA NANA?

I think that's her name. I'll have to check the poster...