. . . Like The Hulk

I have been shredding my clothes lately.

Last Friday, as I was bending down to get into my car, I heard a sound that I am surprised I never heard sooner. It was the unwelcomed, but unsurprising sound of my pants ripping directly down the middle of my backside.

Peachy.

At first, I handled it well. These pants and I had been through a lot together. These were the same pants that I bought from Mr. Mac (a.k.a. God's haberdashery) before my mission. I have had them for just over three years (and 60-75 lbs) and was ready for them to leave my side.

But then it got worse.

I drove home and moon-walked inside with a random jacket from the back of my car covering my behind. I walked in and laughed about the incident with my mom and my cousin. While we were laughing at my expense, I sheepishly raised my arm behind my head to scratch an itch (or itch a scratch if you're a redneck). My mom started staring at my elbow and told me there was a hole in my shirt.

Damn.

By this point, I had had enough. My reaction was nothing short of "Hulk"-ish behavior. I bent my arm at the elbow and flexed. The hole on my elbow grew until I was able to rip my sleeve off from the elbow down.

For the sake of symmetry, I did the same thing to the other sleeve.

I then walked down the my brother's room and summoned the best Hulk Hogan impression I could muster. I grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled it apart, buttons and all.

I could tell it was going to be a good weekend.

The next day. I went shopping.

21 & Invincible

Since tomorrow is my birthday, I wanted to make a quick list of what I did while I was 21.

1. I camped in Circleville with some wonderful people who know what is important in life.
2. I drove to Denver with strangers and drove home with new family.
3. I met one of my musical influences - Andrew McMahon.
4. I witnessed a meeting of the gods when Elton John and Billy Joel joined forces in SL, UT.
5. I played keyboard for two musicals.
6. I bought a brand new car.
7. I came out of the closet.
8. I saw a billion movies.
9. I rediscovered my love of books.
10. I moved three times.
11. I played on a softball team.
12. I saw the Backstreet Boys perform.
13. I saw Ben Folds perform (with the Utah Symphony).
14. I ate brie and triscuits.
15. I got a tattoo.
16. I danced on two pianos simultaneously.
17. I toasted my brother at a night in his honor.
18. I went on a business trip.
19. I shot a big-ass gun.
20. I danced a lot.
21. I fell in love.
    

The Superhero

Today is my last day of being 21. But yesterday was when the magic happened.

Last night, I had the wonderful opportunity of seeing one of my favorite performers with his old band. The wonderful Andrew McMahon brought the old boys of Something Corporate to Salt Lake City. I love Andrew concerts because I always get to see my fellow Fandrew McFan's and just enjoy the experience.

The concert itself was wonderful (of course), but nothing more to write about there.

The excitement began after the concert.

Myself and two of my dear friends made our way back to the car where we waited for my buddy and the girl he brought with him to buy shirts and come out. I got tired of leaning against the car and wandered by myself to a nice little stoop on the corner. I sat and thought and savored the night by myself for a moment or two. A nice ragged man greeted me with a "How's it going?" and walked past me up the stoop. He reached down and grabbed his sleeping bag and went to find another place to sleep. I felt pretty bad for inadvertently stealing a homeless man's turf, but I didn't really have time to beat myself up about it.

My two friends had a heated discussion about who knows what and one of them came over to join me on the stoop. I could see that she was fresh from a passionate discussion. She was in one of those places where she has hopelessly hopeful. That's the best I can do do describe it. After a couple heavy sighs the other friend made her way over to join us. Immediately after she sat down on the stoop, another man approached pushing a shopping cart. He asked us if we could use a drink. We politely/nervously declined and thanked him anyway. He wouldn't take no for an answer as he calmly reached into his cooler and pulled out three ice cold sodas. He gave us each a can (how did he know I love grade soda?) and started to talk.
"My name's Buck," he says, "remember my name. I recently got a $200 ticket for giving somebody a can of Pepsi at Pioneer Park. The policeman walked right past a crack dealer and a man with an open bottle of Vodka to give me a ticket for giving a homeless man a Pepsi. I'm going to court to fight it." He continued to tell us how it's only when we lose everything that we really have anything to give. He moved to Salt Lake to battle cancer that should have killed him 18 months ago. He was commissioned by a wealthy man to stay in a house and make sure the homeless don't sleep in his trucks. So now, Buck lets the homeless stay with him in the house. He talked about how the only thing in life that matters is love. "People don't say hi to each other any more." He said and his point was illustrated as a group of young people walked by with their heads down. All Buck likes to do is walk around downtown with his shopping cart, giving food/drinks to the needy.
I met a Superhero last night. One day I hope to see Buck again when I'm in a position to give him a hand.

Just to fill you in. . .

Recently, an old friend of mine was noticing some strange facebook posts from me. She finally put the pieces together and realized that I have finally come out of the closer. She proceeded to ask me some questions (which I loved) and I wrote her back. I decided to post my response to her questions here so that anybody can read them. I really have no shame and will answer any questions that anybody might have. I just want everybody to realize that I'm still the same person, just a lot more comfortable in my own skin.

My response to her questions:

Let's face it. I've pretty much always known. I just felt that it was wrong. I thought that if I was obedient it would just fall off like a scab and I would be normal eventually. I even remember back in fourth grade feeling like I thought other boys were cute and thinking that there must be something wrong with me.
I finally acknowledged that it wasn't going away last fall. I was playing the keyboard for Little Shop of Horrors in Magna and found somebody that I thought would be worth pursuing. I remember actually saying out loud "I'm gay" while I was driving home from the play one night.
I dated that guy for a while, and started slowly coming out to very close friends and to my family. I told my brothers on new years and they were very accepting (and not really surprised). I told my parents late at night on Valentine's Day. The whole family has been really great about everything.
As far as my spirituality is concerned, I don't feel any less spiritual. I just channel my spirituality a little differently now. I obviously have left the church, but I don't feel any hostility toward any of its members. I understand that (most) of their concerns stem from a deeply founded belief that I have "chosen" condemnation and that can be hard for a lot of people to understand. However, I know that God would never make someone feel guilty about who they are. I suppose I COULD try harder. . . ya know, find some poor, innocent girl, hurry her to the temple and continue to suppress whatever instincts I might be feeling, but the risk of snapping later in life is too great and I don't see the need to involve somebody else in that.
My coming out journey has been rather pleasant. In fact, sometimes I wonder why I deserve just an easy road. My family is super understanding, I haven't really lost any friends. I have a wonderful boyfriend who is a huge part of my life. It's unfortunate, but in our community, not a lot of young men get to have such an easy time with this. You probably weren't aware, but within the last month, there have been 3 young, gay, mormon boys who have taken their own lives. Devastating.
Thanks for taking an interest, and if anybody asks you what's going on, perhaps you can educate them a little.
I miss you, but I consider you a lifer in the friend department.
Love You,
Kyle

Consider the towel thrown in.

June has been a wonderful month of transition for me. Here are some of the highlights:

- PRIDE: I had the privilege of participating in the Pride Parade downtown as part of the Wells Fargo Corporate entry. I was the Green color captain. It really was such a great experience. I'm glad that I was wearing sunglasses for the parade because I actually got a little emotional when it started. My wonderful mother, sister, and brother joined me in the parade. As we set off on our march, we turned the corner onto the parade route and were greeted by a huge street lined with screaming supporters. I saw the hordes of support on the streets, then I turned to see the people I love the most at my side. It truly was a great moment that I will cherish forever. Thank you to all of my dear friends who joined me on the green team. Also, I am so grateful to work for a company that takes pride in me!

- The weekend after Pride was almost as great. Saturday after work, Ty and his girlfriend joined me for a drive to sunny Elko, Nevada to visit our cousin Hank. We checked in at our impeccably terrifying hotel/casino and hopped over to Hank's house for a little party. The next morning we had a lovely breakfast with my dear cuz Max and his family. One of those moments that should last a lot longer than it really did. Good times.

- I then headed back to Salt Lake, hopped in the shower, and hit the road again. This time I was alone. I headed up to Rock Springs to visit a friend and began my solo vacation for the year. I spent a lot of time alone in my hotel just writing. It was very therapeutic and I would recommend it to everybody. I stayed in Rock Springs for two nights then headed to exotic Montpelier, Idaho (10 miles north of Paris). The drive was beautiful and the little town was very picturesque.

- After two nights in Montpelier, I headed home to see my little sister's first performance in a play. She was the Shrew in "Taming of the Shrew". I have never been more proud of her. She slapped a boy (twice) during the play and I loved it. Hopefully she picked up a few best practices from the character she played.

- I BUZZED MY HEAD. I have always said that I don't want to be one of those balding gentleman who refuses to let go, so I did it. I have embraced my shiny scalp and I feel like it actually looks pretty good.

- After that, I just enjoyed an entire week off from work. I did absolutely nothing. I literally spent an entire day watching a season of America's Next Top Model and I am not ashamed of it. It was just what I needed to recharge my battery.

I loved June, and July is shaping up to be a great month as well. Perhaps I will update my blog more frequently. Perhaps I won't.

Play Ball

Well, I avoided it for as long as I could, but the time finally came for me to play in one of my softball games. I somehow managed to find a reason to miss the first four weeks of the season, but ran out of options this time around. There was no escape.
A couple months ago, my brother, Todd, talked me into joining him and a bunch of his friends on a men's league softball team. Aptly named, The Hitmen, our team consists of Todd's besties from high school and their brothers, the three Mantas boys, and my all-too-willing buddy Richard. Excluding myself and Richard, the rest of the team has played before (at least, that is, within the last ten years). Before last night, I can't remember the last time I picked up a bat. . . Oh, wait. . . I can remember. My cousins and I used to challenge my grandpa's neighbor girls to softball games. My cousins always made me be on the girl's team. I remember being up to bat. The pitch came my way. I swung. Made contact. Then something hit me in the face. That's right. I managed to angle the my swing just right so that the ball smacked me in the eye right off the bat.
After hearing that story, you can see why I was so hesitant to finally show up for a game. . .
Well, I got to the field and thought I should probably warm up a little bit. Richard and I took our places next to the real athletes and began playing catch. We got more and more excited each time one of us caught it. Between each throw, I found myself making comments like "Isn't there a musical somewhere that I should be watching?", "Do I throw like a girl?", etc. . .
The time finally came for the game to start. My brother posted the batting line up and I waited anxiously in the dug-out for my turn. Luckily, we had our third out right before it was my turn to bat. This meant that I could get the first out of the next inning and feel okay about it.
They graciously placed me in right-field, and promised me that nobody ever hits it out there. Wrong. A hit rolled my way, apparently I did a good job stopping it and getting it back to the pitcher.
After that inning, it was my turn to hit. I marched up to the plate, making sure to shake my booty a little extra, hoping the other team would take it easy on me [why I thought a booty shake would insight sympathy? I will never know, but it's all I had]
Anyway, the umpire [or "blue" as I like to call him] said "play ball" and I raised a shaky bat over my shoulder. The pitch came slowly [the booty shake must have worked] and I swung. I made contact and the ball dropped to the ground five feet in front of me. Oh well. . . It was still in play, so I took off toward first base. I ran as fast as my chubby little legs could carry me. I was kind of slow, but once I started going, nothing could stop me [ a lot like that X-Man "Juggernaught"]. When I crossed first base, I tried to stop myself right on the base. My shoes had virtually no traction and my body kept going. I stopped moving my legs, but my top half advanced. I spun, lept, spun again, and fell to the ground. I rolled in the air to make sure I landed on my back. I hit the dirt and a shovel full of dirt made it's way down my shorts, which started making their way down my butt.
To add to my embarrassment, I wasn't sure if I was out. So I got up and walked to first base to ask the first base coach if I was out. He nodded and I made my triumphant return to the dug out.
Now, don't take this event as an indication that I was a failure for my team. Each of my three at bats ended with me hitting the ball. My 2nd up was a single, and I eventually made it to home on my 3rd.
It was a fun time, and I have no reason to be surprised by the way things turned out. I look forward to next week. I will be buying better shoes before then, so there will be nothing stopping me.
I am the Juggernaught.

My Favorite TV Show

Yep. . . I'm a gLeek.