A Gay Sin Confessed

Well, I feel I've been in the blog world just about long enough to "come out" and confess something to all of you. It's a little hard to say this in such a public forum, but it's just something that I feel I need to do. So without further hesitation or explanation, my confession is this: I did not like the movie Moulin Rouge, and I don't think Ewan McGregor's singing voice is anything to write home about.

I mean, I tried to like it. Part of me even wanted to like it. I know it's not OK to dislike it. I was told that and have been reminded ever since. And still, when my friends are talking about how happy it makes them, and they're wanting to share that joy with me, I just can't embrace it, and I am reminded of how different I am, and I feel a little alone.

There. I said it. I feel like a huge burden is lifted off my shoulders.

Everybody Loves a Moho

Some of you may remember Greg mentioned, in a comment on this very blog, a certain hat for sale at Target. Well, as it turns out, it looks something like this. It says, "Everybody loves a hoho."

Now, some red felt and a little magic moho stitching later, the hat is transformed into a thing of true beauty. Here, we officially unveil the world's first "Everybody loves a moho" hat.

It looks even sexier on.

Looking Good

(Revised 23 June)

So I was out and about a while ago, admiring the many very beautiful people this region has to offer, and I felt rather sub-par, relatively homely, as is not rare.

This is not, in any way, a plea for reassurance that this is not true. It's simply what I felt and what I do feel on occasions when I pause enough to feel it. And it was frustrating. I realized that no matter how I cut my hair, no matter what clothes I wear, no matter how much I pamper my skin, and no matter how some may compliment my looks in casually familiar or flirtatious ways, I simply am always going to be a fair-looking person but never one of the world's sexiest men. For a moment, I felt a bit beaten down by this. Humbled in the most worldly way. Like I could exhaust myself in the attempt of an unachievable goal I'm not sure I even want but to which I nevertheless feel driven.

Then I thought, "OK. So what if I were horribly disfigured to the point that I was among the least pleasing faces in the world to most people? Is there any hope of looking beautiful then?" This thought humbled me in a far more meaningful way. A few ideas regained perspective. Some people are simply born with genes that make them more beautiful to the average observer.
Period. Let's be honest: there's only so much even plastic surgery can do. Do 'homely' people have any hope for beauty? Some things are nice to look at, but the eyes and countenance of a person are the only thing that can truly endear me to them. A person can be utterly plain in appearance yet radient and magnetic by their character and spirit. It would be nice to have both kinds of beauty, and both are attractive, but only this latter kind is meaningful. I decided I'd rather look 'good' than 'hot'.

Interestingly, both of those require work, but looking 'good' is actually achievable by anyone. Looking 'hot'? Eh...not so much. And, as time passes, and we're all stripped of our youthful beauty, only those who have developed their character are likely to retain at least one type of attractiveness.

Incidentally, in the gym I sometimes look around and admire the beautifully sculpted physiques and marvel at how some people manage to make their bodies so remarkably attractive and wish I didn't have to work so hard to keep mine...hmmm...somewhat toned, at least, but nowhere nearly as beautiful as many of the others around me. And it's funny how I often am sitting there, between sets, thinking this, and...it doesn't bother me at all. I think for a moment about my hopeless state, and then I shrug as I realize I simply can't compete, or don't want to do what it takes to begin to compete at the expense of other qualities of life, and I lose all interest in the competition and jealousy. I shrug, smile, and start my next set with renewed vigor. The workout changes at that point. It's no longer a drive to beef up and tone down to look better than the next guy. It's a deeper motivation to push my body to new limits for my own health and improvement. And, of course, I then appreciate the beauty around me without the messy, covetous, self-demeaning feelings linked to it.

I Wore My Blue Shirt With a Green Tie...

One Sunday potentially not too long ago, in a land perhaps not that far away, I wore a blue shirt with a green tie. It was a second Sunday. I remembered Max's comment on my previous post about just such an ensemble.

I ended up running into an acquaintance from the blogging world (not a moho, but family friendly) who said, "I think that should be the uniform." I had been thinking that, and she confirmed it. So here, mohos everywhere, is the proposed secret combination moho outfit to be worn on Second Sundays if you should desire to express your mohoness in a (ridiculously) subtle way: a medium blue shirt and a (non-clashing) green tie.

Granted, I've seen this tie on at least one other chap here before, but I don't remember if it was on a blue shirt, or if it was a second Sunday. Obviously, this will not be a fool-proof sign, but it's a step.


Addendum 1 July 2007 - See Max's rendition of the uniform here.
Addendum 13 July 2009 - Additional renditions here and here, in response to a reviving of the "uniform" by Abelard Enigma.

Ninja Vanish

So...I just clicked on a link to a particular blogger's blog only to find he had suddenly disappeared from all existence. How queer. So I think to myself, "Why am I not surprised?" *biting lip* Is that rude and presumptuous of me? Hear me out, if you will.

Sometimes, people seem to appear (in the blog world and in online groups) suddenly and unusually confidently on the scene of sexually repressed mohos. They know nobody personally, unlike most who burst confidently onto the scene. Nobody has met them. They sound a lot like other mohos. ...almost TOO much like other mohos. Yet, they say things that disarm you and make you question your skepticism. And as quickly as they popped in, and before you really start believing they might be who they claim, they pop out and are lost forever in the ethereal homo void outside the Blessed Realm of Mohodom. The way I see it, there are a few probable explanations for this:

a) They were feigning confidence. When confronted with the overpowering ease and forthrightness of the rest of us enlightened and uber-confident mohos *cough* *cough*, they are suddenly fearful and run back into the gay-mo closet where life is serene and understandable once again. ...uh-huh.

b) They're disgusted. They fly onto the scene expecting to find other mohos as emotionally healthy and socially prestigious as themselves, even being active church-goers (what?! you don't have to be in complete denial?), but they are completely disillusioned when they find out we're all self-loathing and/or egomaniacal attention-mongers. They consequently turn away in dismay.

c) Mom/Dad/Bishop/Psychotherapist/God himself said, "Stop interacting with those other mohos. They're making you more queer." Dutiful obedience follows.

d) They're attractive spies of the Dark Master--I mean--Affirmation--I mean--bitter gay ex-mo organizations pawning themselves off as moderate and fair-minded--I mean...bite my tongue--anti-reparative henchmen, working their way into the tightly-knit moho circles to reveal the hypocrisy of those who are pious paragons of the possibility of change by day, skanky whores by night.

e) They are not, it turns out, young, hot, blond, active LDS, surfer mohos but are, in fact, slimy, revolting-even-to-their-mothers, ex-mormon sex fiends hoping to lure away sweet, unsuspecting mohos from the fold to then strip them of their virtue in as filthy and kinky a way as possible.


So while (d) and (e) are remarkably unflattering depictions, these 5 scenarios are the probable explanations I've come up with. This post is really meant as an exploration of the quirkiness of our ultra-personal, impersonal online world, not a slanderous jab at our Vanishing Ninja Moho. Still, I can't help but wonder which of the above, if any, describes our brief appearance by the Vanishing Ninja Moho. Now, the world may never know.

...and he left before I had the chance to let him lure me away. Dang. I mean, I'm probably not easily lured, but the thought that those pics might have been real might be worth a little nibble. ...no, no, no nibbling. Bad me. Back to the home aversion therapy kit! Excuse me while I punish myself for my thoughts.


P.S. -- Upon review, I just realized this blog may attract the attention of people Googling "kinky skanky queer Ninja sex whores".

How exciting.

Running Away--Let's Do It

No more questions,
Please.
No more tests.
Comes the day you say, "What for?"
Please--no more.

No more feelings.
Time to shut the door.
Just--no more.

No more giants
Waging war.
Can't we just pursue our lives
With our children and our wives?
'Til that happy day arrives,
How do you ignore
All the witches,
All the curses,
All the wolves, all the lies,
The false hopes, the goodbyes,
The reverses,
All the wondering what even worse is
Still in store?

...No more.


Running away--let's do it.
Free from the ties that bind.
No more despair
Or burdens to bear
Out there in the yonder.

Running away--go to it.
Where did you have in mind?
Have to take care:
Unless there's a "where,"
You'll only be wandering blind.
Just more questions.
Different kind.

Where are we to go?
Where are we ever to go?

Running away--we'll do it.
Why sit around, resigned?
Trouble is, son,
The farther you run,
The more you feel undefined
For what you have left undone
And, more, what you've left behind.

***********

Ah, Sondheim. This song, sung by the baker and a wise old man in "Into the Woods," is one I have grown to appreciate more and more over the years. At first, I felt empathy for him; I felt bad for him. Then, as things got a bit hellish for me, I completely sympathized with his words. I now look at it as something of a memory, both tender and bitter. It's really a beautiful song. And it came to my mind last night as I thought of friends struggling with confronting their own "demons" and my own occasional desire to just pack it all up and move on...or retreat.

I wonder if I'm vascillating endlessly in indecision, like the lines of another song from the same musical, sung by a conflicted Cinderella trying to figure out what to do with her budding romance with the prince. Just replace "prince" with "God" or "family and friends" and it magically takes on all kinds of moho meaning:

"You think, what do you want?
You think, make a decision.
Why not stay and be caught?
You think, well, it's a thought,
What would be his response?
But then what if he knew
Who you were when you know
That you're not what he thinks
That he wants?

And then what if you are?
What a Prince would envision?
Although how can you know
Who you are till you know
What you want, which you don't?
So then which do you pick:
Where you're safe, out of sight,
And yourself, but where everything's wrong?
Or where everything's right
And you know that you'll never belong?

...
Better run along home
And avoid the collision.
Even though they don't care,
You'll be better off there
Where there's nothing to choose,
So there's nothing to lose.
So you pry up your shoes.
Then from out of the blue,
And without any guide,
You know what your decision is,
Which is not to decide.
You'll just leave him a clue:
For example, a shoe.
And then see what he'll do... "
**********

This is SO gay. I'm posting my thoughts using lyrics from Sondheim musicals.

So am I just trying to drop clues and hoping life will simply make my decisions for me or force me one way or the other? Sometimes I think we need that...we just need to place something in God's hands and let him do the work. But in other ways, I suspect I'm too capable for God to want me to go through life leaving the tough decisions to someone else...

Another song with food for thought, sung by a newly wise Little Red Riding Hood wearing the skin of the wolf who enticed and ate her:

"Mother said,
'Straight ahead,'
Not to delay
or be misled.
I should have heeded
Her advice...
But he seemed so nice.

And he showed me things
Many beautiful things,
That I hadn't thought to explore.
They were off my path,
So I never had dared.
I had been so careful,
I never had cared.
And he made me feel excited-
Well, excited and scared.

...
And I know things now,
Many valuable things,
That I hadn't known before:
Do not put your faith
In a cape and a hood,
They will not protect you
The way that they should.
And take extra care with strangers,
Even flowers have their dangers.
And though scary is exciting,
Nice is different than good.

Now I know:
Don't be scared.
Granny is right,
Just be prepared.

Isn't it nice to know a lot!
And a little bit not..."

**********


Sometimes a LOT not. And yet...I don't think I'd trade my experiences, or maybe moreso, what I've learned from them. I sometimes try to step back and see if I'm not running away from life's challenges and more difficult points. I do feel the winds of change, yet I hope I'm not just thinking of running away. Or staying for what's nice while ignoring what's good. Or waiting for some unseen, imaginary "fate" to decide for me.

I've been told I'm surprisingly nonchalant about this whole homosexuality thing. I do feel I've been through enough hell to have given it its due somber treatment. At some point, you have to accept the tough stuff in life and move on. But it's also easy to be nonchalant when you're ignoring the giants, and the witches...maybe the change I feel afoot is a confrontation anew of the deeper contradictions and conundra in my life. And maybe it is time to move on. I'll close with lyrics from another Sondheim musical:


[[Dot]]
Stop worrying where you're going-
Move on
If you can know where you're going
You've gone
Just keep moving on

I chose, and my world was shaken-
So what?
The choice may have been mistaken,
The choosing was not
You have to move on

Look at what you want,
Not at where you are,
Not at what you'll be-
Look at all the things you've done for me

Opened up my eyes,
Taught me how to see,
Notice every tree-

[[George]]
Notice every tree...

[[Dot]]
Understand the light-

[[George]]
...Understand the light...

[[Dot]]
Concentrate on now-

[[George]]
I want to move on
I want to explore the light
I want to know how to get through,
Through to something new,
Something of my own-

[[Both]]
Move on
Move on

So You Think You Can...

Inspired by John's post, I devised the next craze in reality TV. Of course, I'm not sure what channel would carry it...maybe KBYU or BYU-TV...perhaps a feature on KSL. But it would be a competition for mohos only: men, women, married, single, whatever. All mohos welcome to compete. It would be called, "So You Think You Can Change."

It could be sponsored by Evergreen. The competition would be delightful. Effeminate men and butch women coming on stage to prove their ability to fit traditional gender roles, exhibit the proper mannerisms, and demonstrate their ability to ogle members of the opposite sex. I would be booted for using the word "delightful".

Of course, I only just now thought of this and haven't fully formed the concept in my mind. The winner would get...um...a date with an attractive member of the opposite sex? All pre-arranged so they didn't have to put any effort into it. And maybe some euphoria-inducing drugs for the end of the date where some kind of physical gesture is expected. Or maybe they should just get a toolkit and coveralls if it's a guy, or a cooking set with an apron if it's a girl. Or maybe a home aversion therapy kit and their very own pillow and tennis racquet!

So...where shall we hold the auditions?



Disclaimer: No reparative therapists were harmed during the making of this post, and no comment was intended to disparage reparative therapy or those who undergo it. The blogger believes reparative therapy has value and should be given fair consideration. Aversion therapy is an entirely different issue...enough said. All views expressed are the sole responsibility of the blogger and made entirely tongue-in-cheek. There, that ought to soften the impact to the oversensitive crowd.

Kids' Movie Made Me Want to Be Hetero

I went to see Bridge to Terabithia with my roomie. Yes, two twenty-something guys going to see a kids movie together. It wasn't a first for us, actually.

The movie reminded me of the value of simply being kind. It made me long for the simple happiness of childhood and the magic of imagination. But of all the feelings and thoughts I took from the movie, the one they probably hadn't banked on was, "Wow...I actually want to be straight for the first time in a long time." That girl was so great and just the kind of girl I could picture myself falling for.

Other contributing factors might include seeing some of the most adorable, pot-bellied little kids over the weekend on vacation at the pool. Little kids with round, adorable little eyes saying and doing adorable little things. Made me want to have kids more than I have for quite a while. The little sister in the movie was adorable, too.

So it's been a week of motivators towards straightness. Go fig. It made me want to find a girl who brought out the warmth and spontaneity I keep so carefully in check within myself, and one with whom I could have a deep relationship born of joy and pain and with whom I could have cute little kidlets. Maybe it'll happen. I'm not opposed to the idea.

Ah heck, I've gotta stop going to kids movies when I'm tired. They're just too deep.

Lacking Intimacy Among the Mohos

So...I'm finding it actually seems hard to become close to many of the mohos here. Maybe it's because there are so many of us. I can think of a few mohos I would like to get to know better that I haven't, but there are so many that I simply can't do it. I'm only one man, for goodness' sake.

Maybe there's a candy store vibe. Why pick just one candy when there are so many to try? Are we all secretly window shopping rather than making actual friends? Am I doing that?

I have often found it easier to spend quality one-on-one time with my straight friends here. Even the married ones. And the beauty of it is that there's no concern over who will be attracted to whom, and we don't have to talk about moho topics all the time, and we relate on several levels (we're actually friends even though they don't share my affinity for the male physique--go fig). There's just less weirdness. With the mohos, it just seems hard to spend good one-on-one time sometimes. Maybe that's best when at least one of the parties is unsure of his own or the other's motives or afraid of his own weakness. I can totally understand and respect that. I'm just saying that's not an issue with the straight boys, so I sometimes feel like our interactions are more diverse and meaningful, not to mention more emotionally healthy.

And maybe the moho thing really isn't much different from guys and girls hanging out one-on-one. Hm...no, it really is for the most part, but not in some ways.

I love my mohos, and yet I'm kind of tired of the weirdness around this whole moho thang. Is it less weird in gay circles where people actually ARE admittedly looking for partners?

I guess all I'm getting at is that even though I still have not gotten to know several mohos around here as well as I would like, maybe it's about time to branch out and rejoin the straight world more, even the straight and single world. Scary.