Selling the Apocalypse: A College speech to remember!

One of the required classes I had to take in college was speech. 

I'd never given a speech, let alone taken an entire class on the subject. Now, when I'm online, in a chat room, or just writing in my blog, I can be pretty brazen. The anonymity of the internet tends to make me (like most people I'm sure) a bit more confident when interacting with others. I've been known to be a little out there at times, I speak my mind, and have a sort of no bullshit attitude when it comes to how I let people treat me. Because of this, most people think I'm pretty outspoken, if not a little rude at times. When I tell that in real life I am the exact opposite, they have a hard time believing me.

Well, it's true. I am, in fact, the epitome of shy. I do not like to speak in big groups of people (I don't like to BE in big groups of people).  I rarely make eye-contact with people that I am not comfortable with, and if I don't know someone, I am more apt to run away and hide than start up a conversation with them.
I'm as socially awkward offline as I am sarcastic and rude online. So, when I was told that I had to take this class, I signed up for it right away. Not because I was excited to take the class and maybe change my whole outlook on things, force myself to become more social, and break myself out of my self induced social cocoon. No, I signed up for the class so I get it done and over with it. One less thing to have to stress about and worry over.  I was not looking forward to this class at all.

The very first day, I walked in and took a long look at my peers and almost immediately a sense of dread had settled deep within my soul. The class was a mixture of young and old, ranging from eighteen and newly out of high school to a woman well into her 60's and probably looking for something to fill her lonely, childless days, as her kids have all moved out and went on to pursue their own lives.

I was majoring in human services but there were people from just about every walk of life in this class. A girl who wasn't sure yet what she wanted to do with her life. A man that was majoring in some machine trade. A hopeful, future kindergarten teacher. A media major, a nursing student, and various others.  Looking over them all I was reminded of the movie "The breakfast club". Mostly because all I was seeing in this crowd was the princess, the jock, the brain, not many criminals, but I was definitely the outcast or the basket case. When I entered the room and all eyes turned to me I became painfully aware that I did not fit in.

I probably resembled a bit of the criminal too. At least to some of the students, I'm sure. Though I have a background in nursing, have worked in various long term care facilities, and was now pursuing a job in human services (which would be social work, mental health counseling, case management etc...) I still maintained a somewhat, less than conservative, style of dress. To be more exact, this was during my goth phase.

While at work I greatly toned it down. Most facilities I'd worked in had a strict dress code and I dressed appropriately, though I did push the boundaries a bit to see what I could get away with. At school I was a bit freer to be myself though I still didn't go full on grim reaper. For me there were four levels of goth dress.

There was the "confined goth". This was reserved for work. It meant no make-up, clean, clear nails. No outrageous colors of hair (I mostly kept it black anyway) and no jewelry what so ever. This was a rule of the facility (wedding rings excluded) but also more of a safety rule for the workers. Earrings were allowed as long as they were tasteful and not long enough where they could be grabbed.

Long hair was fine (even for men) as long as it was neat and pulled back. We had to limit the

amount of hair spray or cologne that was worn due to patients with respiratory issues. We were required to wear hospital scrubs in every place that I worked. In some places each department had their own color such as white or teal for nursing, burgundy for laundry, and light blue for dietary.  Other places didn't care as long as they were scrubs. I rarely wore printed smocks but when I did they were more along the goth lines like "A nightmare Before Christmas" or any Halloween print that I wore all year round unless specifically told not to. For the most part though I wore black, white, or burgundy, or a mixture of the three. I wore tennis shoes as per our dress code. I pretty much followed the rules unless working 3rd shift when I was known to wear shorts which were not allowed on day shift.

The second style of dress was the  "Everyday goth". This usually consisted of my hair in a pony tail, black nails, light make-up usually on the eyes, white face, black jeans, a dark t-shirt with some type of goth like picture on the front (at times I went more classical vampire and wore blood red dress shirts. It was a more elegant form of goth and less rock and roll) and either black boots or sandals.  If it was hot out I might have worn shorts, and on really hot days I had a great loathing for anything with sleeves. My mom had one rule. Sleeveless tops were fine around her as long as they didn't show off any nipple, so I more or less adopted this rule when going to school as well.
Not that many people would have been opposed to seeing my nipples, especially back then, but I found it to be inappropriate and unprofessional. Jewelry was subtle, maybe a necklace and a few rings. A couple studs in my ears but nothing flashy.  This form of dress I saved for class, school events for my children, professional type appointments, and usually anything having to do with family.

The next category was "At home goth" this form of dress was reserved for days when I was sick, depressed, or just plain lazy. I wasn't often seen in public this way, unless I made a quick trip to the store for food or smokes. This form of dress gives people a full view of what a goth who doesn't give a shit what he is wearing looks like. My hair is either pulled back or left to hang in unwashed tangles around my face. The only make-up I'm wearing is what was not washed off from the previous night. Jewelry is optional at this point. Dress was basically what ever I could find to avoid being naked. It

could be a tank top and a pair of shorts with some flip flops, to full on Jack Skellington PJ's and slippers. When in this form of dress I often looked like a member of the undead whether it was my intention to do so or not.

The last Category is "Night Club goth". This look is strictly reserved for clubbing or going to any party where you want to look absolutely killer sexy. Hair is amazing, full make-up, lots of jewelry, tons of leather--that's a must. Shirts are optional but I used to like to go with an opened vest or netted shirt that showed a lot of skin. If I went with a more elegant dress shirt it was usually always open at the throat and often showed a good portion of my chest. I didn't want to wear something that said "Hey, I'm a slut" but I also didn't want to walk around with a sign that said "Closed for renovations" either. Depending on where you went, you didn't want your attire to give off the wrong message. For example: If I were to enter a vampire bar, I didn't want to walk in wearing something that advertised me as a tasty snack. That invitation could always be extended later to whom ever I wished and preferably in a more, intimate, setting.
When I walked into a club, I wanted my clothing as well as my attitude to read predator, rather than prey. I was on the hunt, and only one very lucky man would get the honor of becoming my next conquest. I wanted men to see me and desire me, lust after me, and beg me to choose them. If the stars were in their favor, I would.

Akasha from "Queen Of the Damned"

Very few people were ever fortunate enough to see this side of me. Unfortunately for anyone who took me home, I was gone by morning, before they saw the after math of what a night of partying could do to me. I was careful never to break the illusion, and I didn't go to clubs looking for long term commitments. It was rare that I even gave them my real name, or even my phone number. I didn't want them to insert themselves into my day time life. I kept the two separate which made me more mysterious, more alluring. People had seen me before, knew of me, but didn't know who I was and I didn't volunteer any information. My night life wasn't about making friends or even finding my one true love. It was about sex, plain and simple. Feeding my desires and then slipping out as quickly as possible. In some way, I think that was how I kept myself from being hurt, but that's an entirely different post. Suffice to say, the people at school, (and at work) never saw this side of me.

So, getting back to my class. This has given you a good insight into what I looked like back then, how I held myself, and my insecurities about public speaking. When standing in front of the class I was naked, stripped of all my mystery and totally exposed. I didn't like that feeling. I didn't like their eyes on me. I didn't like the quiet of the room, the bright lights that illuminated me for all to see. I didn't like the clear headedness of my peers, or the lack of drunken fog and hazy cloud of smoke that

normally shielded me from those I interacted with. I didn't like that they could see the real me, standing there, unsure of himself, and scared for the first time. My self-assured, predatory, guise was gone and I was just...me. One shy, self-conscious, young man standing before a crowd of people who I was sure were going to judge me, maybe even mock me. I was certain that they were looking for me to mess up, and I was terrified that I would.

Our very first assignment though was a kind of ice breaker. The instructor wanted to see what each of us were capable of when put on the spot so she came up with an activity that I'm sure was meant to be fun.  When she called our names, we were to walk to the front of the class, reach into a bag that she was holding, and pull out a small object. The object was to be the subject of our impromptu speech, and each speech was to last exactly two minutes. The objects she had brought with her from home and were anything from small toys, to a tube of lip stick. It didn't matter what the speech was about as long as it somehow incorporated the object we'd chosen.

I sat in the back of the class, waiting my turn, and terrified that she would call on me next. I just couldn't do this. With no time to prepare, no time to think, how was I going to stand in front of a class of strangers and give a speech on something that I knew nothing about? In hindsight I guess that I was making too big a deal out of the whole thing but at the time it seemed like the end of the world as I knew it. I was going to be laughed right out of the room and would probably would never be able to show my face in that class again.

Finally the moment I had dreaded for so long had come. She called my name and so I walked the long and painful walk of certain death to the podium, reached into the bag, and choose my object.
I opened my hand and looked down at the small green, military like toy car that I was holding in my hand.

It was dark green, armored, and completely closed in, like a tank but it was more of an SUV. It had guns on the top, and large tires for off the road traveling. Looking it over, and processing what the thing was, the first thought that popped into my head was urban assault vehicle. That's when I suddenly had a great, if not a bit off-the-wall idea.

The night before I had been watching "Planet Terror". For anyone that doesn't know this film, it's about a group of survivors, led by a stripper, who try and outsmart a hoard of flesh-eating zombies. Probably not the best idea for a college speech but I was fresh out of ideas and so I decided to go with it. I looked at the class, set the toy on the podium so they could all see it, and then opened with the line, "Have you ever worried about the zombie apocalypse?"

The dead like silence of the room was broken by a loud chorus of roaring laughter. Normally this would have freaked me out and I would have run from the room, in tears, never to return. Something was different about this moment though. I didn't feel self-conscious anymore. I didn't feel like the butt end of someones joke. These people were not laughing at me, they were laughing with me, just as they would have, had a comedian just stepped up on the stage. They found my opening line hilarious. Maybe it was made more humorous by the fact that I looked like one of the living dead myself, or maybe it was just in the way that I delivered the speech. Either way, they loved it.

I went on to describe the object in front of me as a prototype for a new urban assault vehicle that was sure that plow it's way through anything, living or dead. I talked as if I were giving a sales pitch, trying to sell the thing to a group of doomsday fanatics. I spoke with such honesty, such enthusiasm, as though I truly believed in the product and the need for it, that even the instructor was in stitches. I ended the speech with, "So, the next time you find yourself mobbed by a hoard of the undead, remember the doomsday urban assault vehicle. It could save your life!"

As I left the front of the room and returned to my seat, the class was still in tears. It took a solid five minutes to calm everyone down enough that the next student could get up and deliver their speech, though no one could top the gem I'd just given. After class, as we all prepared to empty the room, I had people I didn't know coming up me just to congratulate me on my great speech. A few of them said that I should go into stand up comedy. They were impressed and it made me feel good to be so accepted.  My future speeches didn't have the same impact that that first one did, but it did cement my standing in the class. No one soon forgot about the zombie apocalypse speech, and I was told by new students over the years that the instructor actually used my speech as an example when explaining the assignment to future classes.

I remember being so scared to walk into that class. More scared to stand up in front of all those other people and speak aloud, but I was more scared of going in there, being myself, and being ridiculed for it.  I've always been a firm believer in being who you are, but I've also always managed to be the freak in the back of the room that no one understands or cared to get to know. All that ended when I got up and just decided to be myself. And honestly, all of my love and obsession with dark things and horror films paid off because I really knew what I was talking about. I like to think that if the zombie apocalypse ever did happen, the people in  that class would be a little better equipped to deal with it because of me.

My personal journey through Depression

 Depression is a serious illness.

When someone mentions being depressed, in my experience, people want to change the subject, or suddenly have somewhere else they need to be. It's one of those things that's hard to talk about, makes people uncomfortable, and is usually kept in the dark for the most part, like a dirty little secret that no one really wants to hear about. I've been told that I am being silly, looking for attention, or it's a phase that I'll grow out of. At times, when I've tried to talk about it the reaction that I get from others is, "Well, do you want to hear about what's going on in my life?!"
Honestly, no. It's not about you. That's the worst thing I think you can say to someone that is in pain, in need, and wanting someone to talk to. If I didn't want help, or at least just want someone to listen, hug me, and tell me it's going to be okay, I wouldn't have brought it up. Chastising me for blowing things out of proportion, complaining, or telling me how hard you have things is not going to help me. Do I ever say this to any of the people that have done the above? Nope. I just smile and change the subject, but inside I feel like crap.
Depression isn't silly, it's not about wanting attention, and it's not a phase one is going to grow out of. It's a hard, debilitating disorder, that makes day to day activities nearly impossible. It can last from a couple days to a of couple weeks. When someone tells you that they are depressed, they're not trying to get negative attention for themselves, it's usually a cry for help.
I could make this post all about the different types of depression, the signs and symptoms, and ways to help, but I'm not going to do that. There are a lot of sites online where you can research depression if you really want to. A good site to go to is web MD. It has some really good information on depression. Types of Depression.
Instead, what I'm going to do in this post is explain to you what it's like for someone that's going through depression. This is, of course, my own personal experience. Everyone who suffers from depression experiences things differently. You're chemistry, biology, environment, and situation depends a lot on how depression effects you.
There is clinical depression and situational depression. You could suffer from one or both. Clinical is

when you have a chemical imbalance in your brain that causes depression while situations is dependent on things that are going on in your life such as loss of a job, or loved one. Financial problems, a breakup, or even the birth of a new child, called post-partum depression.
I think post-partum is hormonal but I feel that it's possible even for a father to face some form of this, even though he didn't give birth to the child. I went through a very mild form of this when my kids were born. It may just have been the stress of being a new father, getting little to no help from their mother, and having fears that I was not ready to care for them properly.
I would constantly wake them up to make sure they were still breathing, and had constant nightmares that someone or something was going to harm them. I eventually over came my fears and the depression went away but for the first two to three weeks it was terrible. I can't even imagine what a mother might feel like going through this as there are so many other factors involved with her having just given birth. Whatever the type or the cause, it's a serious problem that needs to be addressed, not ignored.
I've been seeing a therapist since I was in my late teens. I have a combination of clinical and situational, and have been diagnosed with major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, social anxiety disorder, and borderline personality disorder.

 I first started seeing someone when I was around seventeen or eighteen. I had attempted suicide and was put on the psychiatric floor of our local hospital. Even then my parents just assumed that I was trying to get attention and overreacting. They didn't take me seriously and I was often overlooked. What they didn't understand was that I was struggling with my sexual identity at the time. I knew that I was different. Despite my dating girls and even had had some sexual experience with girls, I knew in my heart that I was gay, or at least bisexual. I also knew that this was something that was never going to be accepted by my father. Even discussing how I felt with my mother was taboo. She knew that I wasn't like other boys, but we just weren't going to talk about it. Eventually I wold "grow up" and grow out of it. I was urged to act more like a boy, especially around my dad. This caused a lot of confusion for me as well as a lot of hard feelings towards my family. It's a terrible thing to feel like you are never going to be accepted for who you are and told to act like someone that you know in your heart you are not. I'm forty-one now and while I never did achieve acceptance with my father before his death, I did gain some form of tolerance from my mother and other members of my family. One brother still won't have much to do with me and I recently reconciled with a sister whom I had not spoken to in a number of years. I still suffer from depression though and am on medication that does help a lot to control it, but it doesn't eliminate it totally.

I'm a lot happier now that I have come out as gay. I have a wonderful husband and three wonderful children. For the most part I'm pretty happy, but that doesn't mean the depression is gone. A large portion of my depression is due to brain chemistry. That will never change and can only be controlled or maintained through medication. The things I deal with now as an adult contribute to my depression though. Financial issues, kids, and just general day to day things that become overwhelming. My daughter has autism and that proves to be a huge challenge in my life. I love her to bits, but that doesn't mean I don't struggle with her behaviors. I also own my own house and with home ownership comes maintenance and repairs. It's like the old adage says, when it rains it pours. For me, it seems like I'm caught in a constant down pour. I saved money back to get us through Christmas and birthdays and then out of no where suddenly my house goes to shit. We had to pay to have the water pipes fixed, the furnace fixed, the phone lines, and then the dryer broke down. That's after shelling out nearly $800.00 to have my husbands SUV fixed. With all of these things happening so close together and right before the holidays, it's caused my depression to jump into overdrive. It's also done nothing to ease my anxiety either. Within the last few weeks I've really hit rock bottom and can't seem to pull myself out of it, though I am trying my best.

I forgot about my son's IEP meeting with the school ( something I have never done before). I missed two of the kids doctors appointments and one two of mine. I have yet to call and make those up yet even though I really need to. It's almost as though I have a fear of calling up and rescheduling anything, like I'm afraid of being yelled at for my negligence. I'm also having severe anxiety over a surgery that, by now, I should have already been scheduled for. I've neglected to get the blood work done for it that I need to do, and am avoiding talking to the nursing staff who keep calling me. I need to get these things taken care of but recently all I want to do is stay in bed and sleep the hours away. It's like things have just become so overwhelming and there are so many responsibilities that are put on me that I just can't deal with them anymore. It's easier to just check out by staying in bed and not facing my responsibilities. I'll admit that right now I'm not being the best father that I can be. I get the kids up, get them ready for school, make sure they take their meds, and feed them; but I could be doing so much more. I just can't seem to get my act together. I've tried to talk to my friends about what's going on, but they have issues of their own to worry about and I really don't want to burden them with mine. I'm used to handling things on my own, being the strong one, and being the one that solves everyone else's problems. Suddenly though, I can't even seem to handle my own problems.  There are days when I seriously just want to give up. I'm not to the point where I think I'm in any danger of committing suicide, its more like I just want to avoid life. Or at least avoid the struggles that come with life.
I truly hate feeling this way. I wish more than anything that the fog in my head would clear and I could get my life in order. I'm not trying to complain or get attention from anyone. This isn't something I would chose to go through. Who would? No one wants to feel numb, or empty, or so overwhelmed with life that they try to avoid it at all costs. Depression is real, and it's extremely hard to overcome.
In closing I just want to say, if someone comes to you and says they are depressed, or you even suspect that they might be, don't dismiss their feelings. They are in pain, and they are in need. Just be there for them. Be a shoulder to cry on. Be a friend. All the medication in the world isn't enough to help someone struggle through depression. They need love too. It may not solve the problem, but it will definitely help. Take care everyone, and please stay safe.

How does one know if they are transgender? (Warning: sexual content) Comments welcome.

 How can someone tell if they are transgender, gender queer, or one of the other terms out there describing people who do not identify with their biological gender?

First of all, I am not an expert in this field at all. I want that to be known up front. I have researched the subject a lot online and spoken with people about it in chat rooms, but that is basically the extent of my knowledge on the subject. In fact, I recently learned of a new term yesterday, non-binary. I'd never heard this term before. I think it's pretty much the same as gender queer. From my understanding it refers to someone who does not identify with any gender, or possibly identifies with both male and female. I could be wrong on this, but that is what I understand it to mean. It's an interesting term and one that I think I can really get behind. It makes sense to me because there are times when that's exactly how I feel.

This is a subject that has been confusing for me for a very long time and I am still struggling with my own gender identity, even at forty-one years old. I was born male, I identify as a gay man, I dress mostly in men's clothing with a bit of an androgynous spin to it, but I don't dress in drag or cross-dress (not unless it's in the privacy of my own home and for more "intimate" purposes). My husband identifies as pansexual. Gender isn't a contributing factor to him when it comes to the person he loves. He was married to a woman previously, has children with her, and I am the only man that he's ever been with.  Our courtship was a long and confusing time for each of us. There is actually a funny story about how we first met and got together.

When I first met him, I was up front about my sexuality. This didn't seem to bother him and so we developed a close friendship. He was still married at the time but his wife had moved out and taken the kids with her prior to my having met him. It was a sad situation. She had left during a time when he was going through something really terrible and he needed her love and support, but it was too much for her to handle and so she choose to leave rather then stand by him and help him through it. I personally have suffered with mental health issues for years and so I was sympathetic to him and tried my best to be there to comfort him and give him support the best I could. This eventually brought us closer together.

I was attracted to him from the very beginning, but just in a sexual way. I did my best to try and bury these feelings because I assumed at the time that he was 100% straight. I wanted to be his friend and I didn't want anything to mess up that relationship. As time went on though, I started to develop stronger feelings for him and I began to realize that I wanted more than just friendship. I fantasized about him, about us being together, but I never acted on it. We started spending a lot of time together, just hanging out, watching movies, talking. I was there when his wife filed for divorce. I was there when he needed a shoulder to cry on. All the while trying to suppress my true feelings for him.

Eventually I started to have trouble being around him and not telling him how I felt or acting on my feelings so I sought out the advice of a close female friend that I had known almost as long. I told her all about him, how we met, what he was going through, and how I felt about him. She encouraged me to be honest with him. If he was really my friend he would understand and then I would know for certain how he felt and if there was any chance of our relationship progressing beyond the "just friends" stage. I was scared at first. I diddn't want to scare him off, but I couldn't keep hiding my feelings for him, it was causing me some major depression. So, reluctantly, I took my friends advice and told him the truth.

To my complete surprise, he wasn't freaked out, and even told me that he too had developed deeper feelings for me than just friendship but that he was confused about it and not sure what to say or do. He didn't think I liked him as anything more than just a friend and so he was too scared to tell me how he felt about me. So, here we were. Two grown men, both with romantic feelings for the other, and each of us too damn chicken to say anything. I wondered just how long we'd both sat on that couch in his living room, eyes fixed to the TV screen, wanting to make the first move, but too scared to do anything. It's really comical if you think about it. We've both been married, both have children. I've been in other relationships in the past, so neither of us were really inexperienced, but yet we were acting like a couple of high school kids with secret crushes.

We decided to explore our feelings for each other and see if there really was anything there. As I stated before, he'd never been with a man before, and he wasn't really all that sure how to act around me, so for that reason I felt that we needed to take things slowly. I wanted him to be comfortable with whatever we did, and I wanted him to know up front that we didn't have to do anything that he didn't want to do. Sure, sex would have been great. Admittedly it had been a while for me and I really needed a release but I was content to rely on self gratification for the time being. At this point in my life relationships weren't just about sex anymore. I wanted something more than just intimate encounters and one night stands. I wanted someone that I could spend my life with. Someone that loved me as much as I loved them. Someone that I could grow old with. If I could have that with Raven, then I could wait for the physical stuff.

Believe it or not, we started off just holding hands. He seemed to do well with this. It was about a week later before we shared our first kiss. After that we spent a lot of time just cuddling on the couch and really getting to know each other better. It was a good month after we had started actually dating before we did anything sexual together, and almost six years from the first time we'd first met.
Now, four years later, we're married, and couldn't be happier. The thing with Raven though is that he doesn't care if I'm male, female, or other. He's happy just being with me as an individual. This really means a lot to me because I know that I can be perfectly honest with him about how I am feeling, thoughts or questions I have, and if I ever wanted to take a step further and change my physical appearance, he would be supportive.

That's not to say that I want to have a sex change or anything. It's something that I have considered, even researched. There was a time in my life when I thought that maybe I would be happier as a woman but I know that my family would never accept me that way and so I kind of scrapped the idea. I love my family and don't want to do anything that would potentially drive them away. Do I still struggle with my gender identity? yeah, I do. I have for years. As a young child I would stuff socks under my shirt and pretend that I had boobs. I would tie a baby blanket around my head and pretend that I had long hair and was a beautiful princess. I even went through a phase where I forced everyone to call me by a girls name. I told my mom that I wasn't a boy, I was a girl. She didn't really accept this from me, she more or less brushed it off, but she warned me not to talk that way around my father. He was old school, and raised on a farm. For him, men and women had very strictly defined roles in family and society.

As far as my father was concerned, a man worked, took care of his family, provided for and protected them. A woman's place was at home with the children, cooking and cleaning. She was to be obedient to her husband and nurturing to her children. Everything was black and white, and there was no room for gray. Boys were boys, and girls were girls. I'd always had a good relationship with my father. In fact we were best friends. My mom had kids from a previous marriage but I was my fathers only son. We did everything together when I was younger. He took me fishing, and taught me how to hunt. We went camping, worked on cars together, painted a fence once, and he encouraged me to play baseball and basket ball. As I got older though, it became more apparent that I wasn't like other boys. My father and I clashed a lot over my obvious femininity. I knew that he was disappointed in me and our relationship really went down hill fast.

The year before he died we had a huge fight and that was the last time we'd spoken to each other. I wasn't there when he died and that's something I've regretted ever since.  I went through a period where I hadn't spoken to my mother in almost three years but following the birth of my second child we had made up and she's been a constant part of my life since. I won't say that she is 100% accepting of my lifestyle, but she at least tolerates it. She did make it clear to me though that I was born as her son and I will always be her son, not her daughter. I'd lost enough when I lost my dad and wasn't about to risk losing my mother too. For that reason I decided to put to rest any ideas I had of changing gender or living as a woman.  It may seem unfair, and to many people it probably would be, but for me I don't see it that way. I don't think I'd have been happy living as a woman.  I'm not totally happy living as a man either. I've always had a kind of fascination with intersexed people, or people who are born with both sets of genitalia.

I kind of see myself this way, at least mentally. Biologically I am totally male. I have all the right equipment, I have children, while I could easily pass for a female should I ever decide to dress as one, I do typically look male when I dress and act male. The term I like best is genderfluid. I don't really identify as male or female but a mixture of both. I've also used the term androgynous. I don't really know what the correct term is. Maybe it just depends on the individual. In any case, I'm still learning. It might seem odd that a forty-one year old would not be totally sure what gender they identify with, by now I should be an expert right? No way man. I have been questioning myself and been at odds with my gender since before I can even remember. It's not something that I just woke up with one day. I didn't realize at first even what I was doing. I thought, well, kids play dress up. They have great imaginations.

I figured that my pretending to be a princess was just a phase I grew out of. Instead it merely evolved into me questioning my sexuality and gender identity. As I became more adult, I had more adult questions and so I kind of forgot about the way I acted as a child. For years I thought there was something wrong with me. I tried to live as a "normal" male. I got married, had kids, and did what I thought would make my family happy. The problem was, I myself was never happy. I was twenty-eight when I finally came out as gay. My life hasn't been wine and roses since then, but at least being honest with myself has made me happier, despite the obstacles I still face. That's an entirely different post though.

When I really started questioning my gender was when I began researching things online. I found out

that I wasn't the only one who felt this way, and the things I did as a kid started to make more sense to me. I finally realized that there wasn't anything wrong with me. I don't like to really put a label on myself, I'm just me. But, it is nice to have a better understanding of what I am going through, what I am feeling, and knowing that I am not alone. It's a journey that I am still on, I'm still learning, and I don't have all the facts yet, but at least it makes more sense now. To anyone who is going through what I am now, or what I went through when I was younger, all I can say is research. Read as much as you can, talk to people who have been through similar things, ask questions, and learn as much as you can. You don't have to define yourself.  You don't have to fit neatly into some little box, it's not black and white. The most important thing is just to be who you are. Male, female, genderfluid, gender queer, androgynous, whatever you are, you're not alone and there is nothing wrong with you.

You can be gay, straight, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, whatever. Everyone is unique and special in their own way. Don't let anyone tell you that you HAVE to be a certain way. Being gender fluid doesn't mean I have to be gay. Gender identity and sexuality are two completely different things. Just be happy with who you are and if people can't accept you for you, then screw 'em. They ain't worth it anyway. You're perfect the way you are.

Funny grave markers

Death is usually a sad event...

Though some people can find humor in even the darkest of situations. Here are some funny grave markers that I found online.  Not all of them are real, some are Halloween decorations, but I still found them funny enough to add here. As always, I am not claiming ownership of any of these images. They are simply images that I found online.

I'd have to agree there

So wrong but also so funny

At least they knew he was innocent

Should have been more careful

Umm..yeah I should think so lol

It really does

Click that like button!

Never knew oral could kill ya!

And a great song!

They should have listened!

I agree

I have no idea...

Always wondered what would happen

Apparently it rolled away?

Gotta love those evil kitties

At least he had his priorities in order

No problem there John lol

My top ten favorite books of all time

I used to read a lot...

Lately I havn't read as much as I would like. I've been too busy working on my own writing projects, raising kids, and keeping up with the house work. Still, when I have time, I like to sit down with a cup of hot tea, wrapped up in my favorite blanket, and fall into the fantasy world that lies between the pages of a good book.

I started writing short stories on post it notes when I just a little kid, but my true inspiration for writing came when I was rummaging through my mother's attic and found an old copy of the shining, By author Stephen King. Once I'd finished that book, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, a horror writer. Over the years I've read many other titles by many other writers, way too many to list. So, for this post, I'd like to list my top ten favorite books, and tell you a little bit about each of them. I'll try not to give too much away but there may be some spoilers ahead.

#10. The Outsiders by S.E Hinton. I first read this book in high school and I have to say, it really moved me. The story is heart-felt, the characters are likable, and the entire book will keep you on the edge of your seat. It's truly a coming of age story where the main character, Ponyboy, faces obstacles that ultimately change his life. It takes place in the 1960's and is geered more towards teenagers as the main character and his friends are all teens. This book is a real tear-jerker though so if you read it, keep a box of tissues close by.

#9. Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins. This book is definitely more adult oriented as there are some graphic sexual scenes in it. It's a fun fantasy book though with magic, a Greek God, and lot of twists that you just won't see coming. The cool thing about this book is that it spans over several centuries, and portrays the lives of several main characters who all seem to tie in with each other by the close of the book. It's definitely an interesting read and I would recommend it for anyone that likes books that push the boundaries a bit.

#8. A Child Called It by Dave Pelzer. A Child Called It is an amazing story that chronicles one of the worst cases of child abuse in America. It's an autobiographical, non-fiction, where the author recounts his child hood abuse at the hands of his mentally ill mother. There are some parts of the book that will make you furious, and other parts that will make you cry. The most amazing part of this story is how the main character overcame the abuse and then went on to become a spokesperson for abused children. There are other books in this series that span over the course of the authors life. They are all great books, very heart-felt, and will really make you stop and think about what life is like for children who have grown up in abusive house holds.

#7. The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty. This book is a little different than the others I've already mentioned. This is the first horror story that I am going to mention. It was made into a movie in the 1970's and has terrified audiences for decades. It's a chilling tale of a young girl who becomes possessed and after going through countless doctors and psychiatrists, her mother finally turns to the catholic church for help in ridding her daughter of the invading spirits. If I ever do a top ten of my favorite movies, this will definitely be on the list but I wanted to also acknowledge that it is an excellent book that tells much more of the story than the movie actually does. 

#6. Lightning by Dean Koontz. This is an interesting tale of a woman whose life is cursed with bad luck. Thanks to the aide of a guardian angel who appears in a blast of lightning, the main character is saved time and time again. Her angel has a secret though, a secret that comes with hidden dangers. As the story unfolds, the reader is taken on an amazing adventure full of thrills, chills, and romance. It's an excellent read and not overly scary for those of you who don't really like horror, this book is tame enough for you to enjoy.

#5. Cry to Heaven by Anne Rice. This amazing book tells the tale of a young boy castrated to preserve his angelic singing voice so that he can attend a school for gifted singers. It takes place in eighteenth-century Italy and is more than just a book about music and art. This story keeps you on the edge of your seat throughout as it weaves a tale of romance, sex, and revenge. I wouldn't recommend it for anyone under eighteen years of age though as some of the content is very mature. But for adults who enjoy opera, mystery, and gay erotica, this book is definitely for you.

#4. The Servant of the Bones by Anne Rice. Another Anne Rice book that I just love is The Servant of the Bones.  This book is more fantasy than the last, and definitely has more of a horror story feel. There are some scenes of extreme violence in this book as the main character is cursed through a ritual of pure torture. I don't want to give a lot about this book away because it really is worth the read, but I will say that it has a huge paranormal and magical theme to it and some very thought provoking dialogue.

#3. Pet Semetery by Stephen King. Now, one of my all time favorite authors and the one who inspired me to write horror. Stephen King is by far a master of his art. I love almost everything he's ever written but as this is a top ten list I had to choose those that I liked particularly well. Number three on my list goes to Pet Semetery. It's about a cemetery that is built over an ancient Indian burial ground. The ground itself has been tainted by an evil spirit known as a Wendigo. Anyone or anything buried there comes back as a flesh eating monster, which is why the Indians stopped using it. When Luis Creed's daughters cat dies after being hit by a truck, the nice, elderly neighbor Jud Crandall, takes Luis to the graveyard and advises him to bury the cat before the little girl realizes that her beloved pet has died. What follows is a trail of blood, gore, and murder despite the warnings from a friendly though decomposing ghost.

#2. Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice. I know what you're thinking. If I love Stephen King so much, why are there more Anne Rice books listed here than Stephen King? Simple answer, they are my two favorite authors and to list all the King books that I love would take way too much time. Interview is my second favorite book of all time. I read it when I was in my sophomore year in high school, back when I developed my vampire obsession. I actually did a compare and contrast essay in college based on Interview and "King's" Salem's Lot (another vampire book). I chose to put Interview here as opposed to Salem's Lot because, while they are both excellent books, King's tends to stay with the older, Nosferatu, stereotype as Rice's Interview has a newer, more romantic, view of vampires giving them more of a count Dracula feel. In interview, the vampires pass easily for humans, are beautiful, elegant, and cultured. They do sleep in coffins but they do it in style and tend to live more lavish lifestyles. While Rice tends to stay away from the more common traits, King's version embraces them, such as needing to be invited into a living persons home, roses and garlic warding off vampires, and the age old belief that vampires bat like creatures which must sleep in the earth of their home land. Both stories are awesome but if you want something with more of a romantic feel where you relate more to the vampires then Interview is for you. If you relate more to the humans hunting vampires and see vampires as blood thirsty monsters then check out Salem's lot. 

Before I post my number one favorite book of all time, I want to take a moment to list a few books that I love that, unfortunately, didn't make the top ten list but or none the less great books. 

Carrie by Stephen King.
Anthem by Ayn Rand.
One Child by Torey Hayden.
Sybil by Flora Rheta Schreiber.
The Stephanie Plum series by  Janet Evanovich.
The Vampire Lestat and the rest of the vampire Chronicals by Anne Rice.
The Witching hour books by Anne Rice.
The Vampire Diaries by L.J Smith.
The Twilight Series (Breaking Dawn is my favorite) by Stephanie Meyer.  
The Harry Potter series by J.K Rowling.
The children of the corn by Stephen King.
The Stand by Stephen King.
Misery by Stephen King.
And my number one favorite book of all time...

#1. The Shining by Stephen King. 

In my opinion, one of the best books ever written.As I mentioned before, I found an old copy of this book in my mother's attic and it looked so good I just had to read it. I was maybe fifteen years old at the time and I just fell in love with this book. I had known by that point that I wanted to be a writer but after reading The Shining, I knew without a doubt that my passion was for writing horror. If you are unfamiliar with this story, it takes place during winter at a hotel that closes down until summer. The main character and his family move into the hotel over the winter when the husband is hired as the winter caretaker. The hotel though is home to more than just the caretaker and his family or the many guests that have come and gone. From an axe murdering former caretaker, his two murdered daughters, a decomposing corpse in a bath tub, and a fairly disturbing scene of fellatio preformed by a man in a dog suit, this book has it all...and then some. There is way more to this book then what can be seen in the movie (including more information on the fellatio scene) and should definitely be read before seeing the movie, or if you loved t he movie I totally recommend reading the book too. It explains so much that you probably missed in the movie. I've read this book a few times now and it never ceases to amaze me. Once you've read The Shining, you'll never look at REDRUM the same way again!

Movie Review: Mara

Director: Clive Tonge

Story by: Jonathan Frank

Starring:  Olga Kurylenko, Craig Conway, Javier Botet, and Rosie Fellner. 

I just got done watching this movie on netflix. my first thoughts when watching this is it's little bit of A Nightmare On Elm Street rip off. This isn't the first film I've seen where sleep paralysis plays the role of the eventual killer either. Another film that I recalled watching had a very, very similar theme to it.  Actually, while watching this I started to wonder, had I already seen this film? Scene by scene I was able to sense what was going to happen next. Maybe it's just my psychic intuition at play but I seriously doubted it so I searched the internet and came across a movie that I had seen a while ago and had almost completely forgot about. The name of this earlier film is "Dead Awake." First I'll say that both films are pretty good. They didn't scare me but movies seldom do anymore. There are some really creepy moments and if you're not really into ghostly horror films, you probably won't like this movie. Now from here I'm going to discuss more of what the movie is about and try not to really give away any good plot points though I have to warn you that spoilers are ahead. So, if you haven't seen either movie, you might not want to read the rest of this post. For those who do read on, I hope you enjoy. 

**SPOILERS**

So, the main similarity in both of these films is that each of them features a ghost or demon like creature from mythology. In Mara she is called Mara, and in Dead Awake they simply refer to her as the old hag. There isn't any real back ground story as to where this entity comes from and what it wants (other than to kill people in their sleep) which was kind of a let down for me. At least with Freddy we find out why he was so hell bent on killing all of the elm street children. 

Mara, or the old hag, just seems to be an evil entity that likes to scare the shit out of anyone who feels guilty over something and then strangle them in their sleep. 

I have to re-watch Dead Awake to give a good synopsis of this film, but from what I recall, the demon hag in that film attacks those who believe in her. This turned out to be a key factor in being killed by Freddy in the later films though in the beginning that didn't seem to matter. Nancy and her friends had never even heard of the guy before he started coming into their dreams and stalking them, yet he had no trouble picking off the elm street kids one by one. It wasn't until the film Freddy vs. Jason came out that Freddy needed people to believe in him in order for him to gain the strength to kill. This was why he resurrected Jason and sent him to Elm street, so people would remember. People did remember but eventually his plan backfired and he and Jason had a no holds barred match at crystal lake. 

Unlike the previous two mentioned sleep demons, Mara herself does not need to be believed in nor even known about to attack someone. She is simply brought out by a terrible tragedy like a school cook poisoning over 30 children, or a war in which innocent blood is spilled. Once released though she clings to a person who feels some guilt over something in their life. Once she marks that person by turning their eyes red she comes to them in 4 stages, the last stage being their death. 

You can avoid being killed by her by not falling asleep (yeah cause that works out so well) or by simply releasing the guilt that you hold over whatever it is that you blame yourself for. 

There is a scene in Mara that takes place in a sleep lab that feels a lot like the scene where Nancy pulled Freddy's hat out of her dream. Mara sits atop her victim and breaks his neck as the main character -who can also see her because she too has been marked- watches on in horror, unable to move because she suddenly suffers from sleep paralysis, something that up until the events of this film apparently never afflicted her before. How convenient. 

In Mara, the demon jumps from person to person, choking the life out of each of them.  It seems like there were just a lot of guilty ass people in this town. I suppose that the film is supposed to speak to our subconscious though and show Mara as a manifestation of the secret demons we each carry inside. I'm really glad this is only a movie though because if my past sins came back to haunt me, I'd be dead before morning for sure. 

All in all, it's a pretty good movie, if not a bit cliche. Still it had a few good jump scares but the plot was way to similar to Dead Awake and out of the two I would have to say the latter is the better movie. It was released in 2016 by the way, and Mara was released in 2018. 

Cleaning in a "kid" storm

Anyone who knows me has heard me talk about my kids...A LOT! LOL. I do love to talk about my kids. They are the best things that have ever happened to me. They are the reason that I get up everyday, and they are what keeps me going. Even on those days when I just want to hide under the covers and not face life. My kids force me to get up and get moving. Literally. They crawl in my bed and bug me till I have no choice but to get up. Who really needs an alarm clock when you have hyper active children that are constantly wanting fed and stuff lol.  All laughs and jokes aside, my kids are great.  My oldest is in college right now, working hard towards a veterinary degree. My youngest two are eleven and thirteen. My thirteen year old daughter has autism, and while it can be extremely challenging at times, she really is the light of my life. Both of these kids keep me on my toes. With my daughter, the hardest part of parenting her is dealing with her outbursts and tantrums. As she gets older they have become increasingly more violent. She over turns furniture, throws things, kicks, hits, and screams.  Don't read this and think that she is a bad kid because she's not. She gets frustrated because she has trouble expressing herself and making her wants and needs known. Imagine being trapped in a body that you really have limited control over. You know that kicking and punching things or breaking things is wrong and that you are bound to get in trouble for it, but you've just become so overly emotional that your body no longer listens to the part of your brain that's telling you to calm down. There are so many things, so many external stimuli going on around you that you get overwhelmed. Sometimes I think that there is so much going on in her head that she thinks she needs to scream to get her voice heard, not understanding that the noise is in her head.  I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like for someone with autism. In so many ways she is like a normal girl her age. She likes to dress up, and wear make-up. She loves doing hair and wearing jewelry. She plays with dolls, likes to sing and dance. She listens to a lot of the newer, more popular recording artists. She loves Katy Perry. She also loves Disney movies and can sing just about any Disney song ever made.

Autism doesn't limit who my daughter is as a person, it only limits her ability to communicate properly. There are other factors involved as well. She needs help with dressing and bathing. We're still working on potty training, and she does wear adult pull ups. She goes to a special school for kids with developmental delays and in some aspects has the mental age of around five years. In other ways though, she's really skilled. Her memory is amazing. She can use a computer with very limited assistance from others. She draws very well and is very creative and imaginative. I try my best to encourage creativity with both of my children ( I did with my oldest as well). We do a lot of crafts together, play games, write stories, and other things that I think will spark their imaginations. My own parents always encouraged me to use and further develop my artistic talents and I do the same with my kids. My youngest son is an excellent artist and my oldest seems to have to inherited my talent for writing. I'm very proud of all three of my kids and all that each have accomplished.

So I've prattled on about my kids and what they are like, and what talents they each possess. By now you're probably wondering what any of this has to do with the title of this post. Don't worry, I'm getting to that. LOL.
Going back to where I said that I encourage my kids to be creative and imaginative. I've always had a deep love of the arts. I'm not such a great house keeper though. I've struggled for years with trying to balance maintaining a clean home and not stiffing my kids creativity. I'm not the kind of parent that is more concerned with the way the house looks or what people will think when they stop by and less concerned with if my kids are learning, having fun, and enjoying life. I'd much rather build a giant castle out of empty boxes, glue, and paint right on the kitchen table, than have to worry about washing dishes or sweeping the floor. This kind of attitude has gotten me in trouble more than once, especially with my mom who thinks that no matter what you are doing, and no matter where the kids are, a home should be 100% immaculate at all times. Yeah, well, unless you have a maid, this isn't a reality. Especially if you have young kids living at home.

And dads too ;)

This doesn't mean that I never clean. I do, a lot. Honestly, it seems like all I do is clean. The thing with me though is that I don't really let it bother me if the house is a disaster for a little while. There will always be time to clean and things that need cleaned. My kids won't be little forever and this is the time when I feel they need me the most. What do I want them to grow up remembering? That I was so obsessed about keeping a clean house that they couldn't be kids and have fun or express themselves? That I was so busy always cleaning that I never had time for them? Hell no! I want my kids to grow up remembering that daddy loved them and we had the best time ever. I want them to grow up knowing that everyone makes messes, no one is perfect, and life isn't about being perfect. It's about experiencing things, trying new things, exploring, and learning to appreciate what they have, the people in their lives, and the joy of just cutting up and letting go. Do I have them help me clean up afterwards? Well, yeah, sure. Who wouldn't? My kids have chores that they are expected to do, responsibilities that they are taught to manage, and I try to make everything that we do together a learning experience. I just feel that it's important to have fun while doing it. My house will never be immaculate as my mother thinks it should be. I have kids in the house. Things get broken, things get knocked over. Drinks get spilled and an occasional food fight breaks out. The best thing is that no matter what kind of mess I'm faced with, it can be cleaned. Things can be replaced. Material objects won't last forever, but memories do. I want my kids to have some of the best memories possible from growing up and I don't want their only memory of me to be me yelling and screaming because the house is a mess.

My kids are not abused. They are not neglected. They have enough food to eat, clean clothes to wear, and for the most part they are clean but for those days when we have a glitter war, or play outside in the rain, I have a bathtub. Sure my house may at times look like a wrapping paper cyclone blew through it, but my kids had one hell of a nice Christmas. My clothes may not always be folded but they are clean. The floor may not always be swept or mopped but there will be time for that later. The most important thing to me right now is spending as much time as I can with my kids, loving them, playing with them, teaching them, and helping them grow into the amazing and caring adults that I know they one day will become. Everything else can be put on hold, my kids come first, and no matter how messy my house may appear, it was made that way with love. What else really matters?