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I’m too unfocused. Earlier today I told myself that when I get home from work I need to sit down and continue with this writing project I’ve been putting together. After mulling that idea over, I thought to myself that it would probably be better if I just blog. I’m not one who likes to force moments; especially moments of true, pure inspiration.

Since 2006 I’ve been writing this thing. That’s not to say everything I’ve written since 2006 is apart of it, but in some form or another the thoughts and ideas that I’ve put into whatever I’ve produced have helped nudge me further and further in the direction this story is demanding to be taken.

The idea, at first, was to write about something completely intimate and personal. Something that I wanted to express to anyone who cared to read; to share in the joys and triumphs, along with the pitfalls and the sadness. It sounds incredibly cliché, but it wasn’t until after I graduated high school that I really allowed myself to start to discover just who I was as a person. Prior to that point I think a lot of us are wedged into making decisions and formulating ideas that have been instilled in ourselves by family and close friends because that’s all we know how to do. It’s safe and secure. It’s the known and familiar. With the pressures put on about deciding what you’re going to do for the rest of your life at age 18, I can see why it would be easier to just go with the flow and stick to routine and normalcy.

I’ve never graduated college. I tried it twice. Both times I ended up dropping out. I can’t necessarily pin point it to lack of ambition, general laziness or apathy; or that maybe I was just scared and not ready to face the future. I think it might have been a culmination of all those things. Do I want to go back? Sure I do. Then again, part of me wonders if I just like the idea of being a student again. The idea that I would be doing academic things and advancing myself in a forward direction. That status of studentship and the atmosphere of matriculating with other people who are striving toward their own future goals.

I can’ even stay focused to finish that thought. I feel like I’m getting off track from my original purpose. If I even had one. I’m shooting a thousand thoughts and it’s like they’re all fireflies daring to and fro and I’m trying to catch them with a fishing net.

The idea was to write something personal. I started to come into myself after high school. I learned to formulate my own thoughts and ideas based on my own developing moral code and principles. One of the worst things I can think of is to be a slave to an ideology you haven’t even really given thought about. I started my freshman year of college at EMCC. It lasted two months before I just let it go.

No college? No problem. I got a job in the food service industry. I met some cool, interesting people. People from all different walks of life. Each who, in their own way, left an imprint on my life that would help change and define who I am forever. I know that alone is a grand and powerful statement. How does some no-named co-worker who makes minimum wage in a kitchen, barely speaking English help change and define someone else?

Alright, alright I’m moving into after-school special territory and that’s not what this is about. The point is, I was able to find a way to appreciate not being in school by learning about something else. Living life. Outside of over-priced textbooks and stuffy rooms.

Sometime in 2005 I finally admitted to myself that it was okay for me to be gay. That I didn’t have to feel bad or guilty because of some antiquated belief system that is around, for the most part, to give one group of people a reason to control another. I came out to a select few people. People I knew who would be able to accept me for me without any awkwardness or hatred or what have you. Random thought: I think it’s funny that someone can say “I lost my virginity”. Um, no, you didn’t lose it. You know damn well where it went. One doesn’t “lose” their virginity. It’s given up.

I gave mine on New Year’s Eve, 2005 in the backseat of a car in the middle of the desert to some guy whose face I can barely even remember. Isaiah something or other. I didn’t even like him. It was awkward and messy and we hardly even spoke afterward. Looking back on it, I’d say it seems pretty normal. It’s not like it was a movie or anything. Just two people coming together for a singular moment of intimate pleasure.

The idea was to write something personal.

I don’t like stereotypes, but I know they exist for a reason. I don’t think I’ve ever really fallen into the stereotype of what most mainstream, straight people slap on a gay guy.

I know this is ending abruptly, but I’m too unfocused to continue this tonight. I’ll continue later.