one of my all time favorites...

Sung by a man who has struggled with his orientation and acceptance in an ironically unforgiving group. I thank him for his songs and encourage him, if I may be so bold, to follow his heart and not be what he thinks people want of him...

Christmas Holiday Music...hope you enjoy.

I am struggling with the whole holiday thing this year. Just can't seem to shake this bit of depression that still lingers. So, looking to lift my heart and soul a bit I sought out some lifting vids and, well, here are some to share with you. I know not all of you celebrate Christmas, but beautiful things are beautiful in any context. I would suggest expanding the view of the second vid to get the full effect. Holiday Hugs to You All! These are, of course, not my work. Please note the authors as they have done wonderful work.

it gets better...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IfQJ_V9K3EM

For any like Seth...

I began this blog with the intention of sharing things I found interesting, learning a bit about myself in a fairly safe environment, and sharing myself with a world I'd basically avoided. In the scope of this I've found I'm often touched by the pain of others, enough so that I've broken into the past and want to share something with anyone who is reading who may feel such pain and misery. This was inspired, in part, by reading the article on Milkboy's today about Seth. It somehow got me to tell a difficult story, full of sentence fragments and probably confused...it's one I probably should not tell. Well, before I wimp out, I'll post it and let the chips fall. To any who are thinking of ending their life. Don't. Please, just don't. I was born the youngest of two, to the distinct displeasure of the other. An older sister who surely would rather have had a puppy. I was the one who followed and pestered and wanted only to be loved, liked, wanted. To simply be wanted. In the years of my youth I never found the way to simply fit in. I was the middle child in the neighborhood, older or younger than the rest. I had no “best friend”, something I truly always wanted. Oh, there was no shortage of kids in my neighborhood, I just always felt a bit out of sync with them. It leaves a hunger in a kid, a wanting. In the course of time and days I found someone who seemed to want to spend time with me, who laughed at my jokes and antics but not at me, and who I found to be so very cool. He was four years older than me, but for a while that was just wonderful in my eyes. His name was Steve. I found that particular snake in Eden’s garden unstoppable, though. Scandal struck our little neighborhood when he was accused of forcing another boy to blow him. I didn’t know there were others who he had forced to do this; thought I was the only one. He laughed about it, and it seemed he had every right to laugh as nothing ever came of it. No one could stop him, it seemed. I was eleven when he caught me alone in the woods and raped me. Looking back, there are times in my life that are just simply grey and brown fog. Blocked out memories, compartmentalized moments. That was one such day. I remember little from it but feeling humiliated. I was embarrassed and just wanted to escape to my bedroom and disappear. It was just before school started, I remember. I was moving on to the Jr. High that year, afraid of all the new things that would come with that but looking forward just the same. It was the year I learned to love reading, reading my first real book “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”. It was the year I found gym to be the most interesting and frightening place in the world, filled with kids getting naked for showers. I was pushed into the corner by some of the older kids after gym as one whispered into my ear he’d heard I gave good head and was a good fuck. I was eleven years old when I decided I’d had enough and got my father’s gun. I was too afraid to live anymore, and far too humiliated for it as well, but equally frightened of dying. I knew I’d go to hell. I knew it. And still, I couldn’t go on. With the barrel at my right eye, screaming at the top of my lungs for anyone and no-one to hear, the hammer slammed forward on nothing, and I’d realized I’d peed myself. I put the gun away and went to bed. I told Mom I wasn’t feeling well. I’d realized I was stuck. I was too afraid of living, I was too afraid to die. What the hell was I going to do tomorrow? I’m in my 40’s now. I’ve bumped my head on life a number of times, trying to understand the seemingly uncomprehendable. In many ways I’ve found that I’m still afraid of the what-ifs that live outside the walls I’ve built, but I’ve also found that there is life within these walls. I envy some of the young people I read about who seem to have found the way to embrace life, who have been able to be free and be themselves. I cry with the kids who believe there is no life worth living in their current misery. I’m no model, but dammit Hang On! It get’s better. To all the ones giving up, just please...hang on!

Uh oh, randy's back on his soap box...

Hello everyone;

Maybe I should post this in Rants...Randy's Rants....nah.

Looking at Milkboy's today I saw an interesting post. They are in my "Sites I like" so go read about "Murder is ok, incest...".

Now, I don't watch a lot of tv. Part of that has to do with my work schedule, as most of the "good" shows are on in the evening when normal people watch tv. Best I can get is morning reruns of shows from the 1970's and 1980's or "news" - I put that in quotes...we all know why. But, having the parents here for a bit, who live and die by the next chapter in Mom's soap or their favorite cop shows and csi shows, I got a little taste of what is still the top draw for prime-time audiences: over-the-top drama and murder. Both of which I commented to them as being very depressing. I was told to hush, their show was on.

Recently books were taken down from a certain web site book seller, who I won't mention by name...see the Milkboy's article...and the downward spiral has begun. The interesting development was almost scripted and forecasted by everyone who has denounced book burning and banning for ages....it's a slippery slope.

Of course, it won't get to the extremes, right? We won't have another dark age where "the church" confiscates and burns anything that isn't the approved message....or remember the recent movie "The Book of Eli"? It won't get to that point, I'm sure. I keep telling myself that because anything else is quite paranoid and I reserve that for the people who keep following me. And yet, look at the "mainstreaming" that goes on now. Has anyone ever wondered, in this age of videos and "Pop-Idol", if Joe Cocker would have ever gotten a contract? He's got a beautiful heart and soul, but probably doesn't quite meet the "Pop-Idol" model. He's not alone...I've yet to get my call to the red carpet...and so those who know more about this can tell you that the music industry has become so mainstreamed as to stifle creativity. "Video killed the radio star...". Now, in the best interests of all readers, we must mainstream our literal offerings so as not to offend any little soul. We must protect the reader at all costs.....and so goes the new ideas, the creativity, the pushing of the envelope.

There are many things written that I would not care to have enter into my pure little mind, as jaded as it is. There are certain envelopes that I've found I'd rather not push too far. And yet, as an adult, it is truly my responsibility to screen that for myself. I don't like images of violence and murder....and can we tone it back on the csi shows! Well, don't watch them some would say. Ah, a brilliant idea!

Can you imagine? Can you believe that as an adult I could choose to not watch something, not read something, or at least not believe something?

Must I have someone safeguard my poor little mind from the things that go boo! in the bookstore?

I know bs when I see it. I follow c-span now and again and I see the political ads. Is it so far fetched that I can decide what is and what is not acceptable for myself?

Why is murder wonderful and sex dirty? Who decided that lying, cheating, hurting, dying, fighting, getting hit in the nads and "political correctness" competing with "political morality" can all come through, but if some lady at a football game shows a boobie the world comes to a screaching halt?

Well, the good news; the history books are still available so we can script the future.