Halloween!

Hey All

I've been busy with work, goofing-off and playing with myself. My fun this evening will be spent at the Halloween concert by Broken Social Scene and then getting trashed. Or trashed beforehand - really I'm open to either order.


Haha, take that little kids who want candy! Snow everywhere! Well, atleast it was 2 nights ago at my parents home. I'm inviting myself over now to grudgingly dice through my family's pumpkin to make an awesome Jack O' Latern. My parents will apologetically thank me for finding the time in my schedule to make it over. I actually love carving pumpkins and they both know that, but I think it's better this way for our own self-images...well, mine atleast.

And here is my concert costume:


Wonderfully/lame glow sticks wrapped around me. Yes, my body is in fact somewhere in there. 5$ very well spent. A few friends from Europe are coming out to the show, so they wanted to dress up sicne they've never experienced the North AMerican Halloween celebration. It should be a great time.

Cheers until tomorrow when I'll write-up a post about sex.

PS: I actually had way too much fun last night playing with the glowsticks in the dark.

Little Old Lady

"Sais-tu c'est quoi un ange?"

"Toi. T'es un ange"

I like to believe that little acts and memories can stick with a person and impact them greatly. I feel stupid pulling out this cheesy line but a little bit of kindness can go a long way.

A year and a half ago, I was walking through the rain with my umbrella to the metro. A little old lady was standing under the roof of the metro entrance. She looked over at me and raised her arm, to signal that she wanted to speak to me. She asked if I could walk her across the street, under my umbrella. Thinking nothing much of it, I let her put her arm around mine and I walked her across the street to the church she was heading to.

As we're getting to the other side, she looks up and at me and asks,

Do you know what an angel is?

Immediately I think Oh god, some Jesus freak who wants to get me into church. She quickly cuts my silent thought:

It's you. You're an angel.

She then pulls her arm away from me and walks into the church.

I was actually a little bit stunned. What I had interpreted as the beginning of some crazy lecture in saving my soul, turned into a really touching (and sappy) compliment. Well, the little old lady's charm worked on me and I was really touched. Touched enough to remember it on my way back from the concert tonight.

It's little things like this that I like to believe can make someone's day and make them feel a little better. From my point of view, it's surprising how tiny, meaningless events can really change a person's mood and become so memorable. I hope there are a few people out there who have been touched by a little thing I've done for them once as well.

I included the French version of what she said, since it just sounds a lot better to me than the translation. Don't worry, my next post won't be so sappy and (hopefully) cute.

Of Montreal In Montreal

A last minute decision led me to the Of Montreal concert tonight. I went alone but ran into two groups of friends there, so my courage for attending a concert alone was mooted out. Obviously, it was great to have someone to talk with, in between the opening band and the actual show.


If you are ever "on the fence" about going to an Of Montreal show, just go for it. Their show was phenomenal. I didn't even get the chance to download buy their newest cd, so I didn't recognize a bunch of the songs and it was still amazing. They don't just perform the songs, they have this whole theatrical show going on at the same time. There's a team of "actors" performing the weirdest shit in the oddest, constantly changing costumes. They also have a giant screen flashingflashing different pictures or animations all the time. It's just so much fun.

The lead singer even does a bunch of costume changes, including running around in a speedo, painting himself red, dressing up as a centaur (someone else is the butt) and coming out in a coffin, which changes into him being naked but covered in whip cream. Such a good show!

Whipped cream singer, with wind-blower shooting feathers everywhere

The singer sure does have a pretty good body too. Probably because of all the drugs, but still very nice.

Mama's Got a Lesson for Me

My Mom and I had an interesting talk yesterday. At first, it was just a typical conversation about my work, where it's going and what I plan on doing next year. We were speaking about my interests, what I like and what strengths I should play toward. My Mom decided to describe her impression of me, in relation to interacting with people:

My Mom in a marathon (completely unrelated to the topic of this post)

Mom: "I remember you said you took a lot of classes outside of your normal biology ones. You really seemed to like those courses that focused on people"

Me: "Ya I know, I really like sociology and psychology. Pretty much anything that studies people."
Sociology is the word I used to describe the courses in Sexual Ethics, Sexual Diversity and Sex in History I took in university. Obviously I never told them I took those classes.

Mom: "You've always been really good at watching people, gauging reactions, understanding feelings and knowing how to react."
I was genuinely impressed when she said this. These are things that I consider myself highly atuned at picking up. As some of you hopefully recall, this what I practiced since highschool, mostly in relation to my hyper-vigilance for hiding my sexuality. Of course I don't think my Mom realizes why I'm good at that, but her noticing that my alertness of peoples' states made me proud of her for noticing.

Mom: "Like a few weeks ago, when we met [your cousin's fiance's] family. I was still gauging the situation to see how I should approach them. You on the other hand, in few minutes, saw they were all really shy and became really friendly and went in the house to introduce yourself and talk with them. None of us were ready to do that but you just knew to do that and they loved you immediately and became bery comfortable."

As readers, you all need a bit of an explanation to understand this: When my extended family went to meet my cousin's fiance's family, we arrived at the family's home and they were all extremely shy and afraid to talk to us. Most of them literally hid in their tiny house for 3 hours while our family hung out outside, setting up tables and talking amongst ourselves. As guests, our family didn't want to just barge in on them.
Unlike my family, 5 minutes after we arrived, I just walked right in the house and became extremely friendly since I realized they were extremely awkward. As in awkward to the point of starring at the ground when you look at them awkward. I can't be sure to why they initially acted like that, I think it has something to do with the disparate differences between our families: our family is urban, affluent, Moms+Dads still together, successful at work, non-religious and used to guests, while their family is a poor, rural, Mormon, a single Mom who had 3 kids with 3 different fathers who each abandoned her, along with cousins and uncles/aunts, whom aren't used to entertaining friends.

Seeing how my Mom was being really honest and observant about me, I decided I would be open with her about myself. I decided to share how I think those situations out to decide how I need to react.
Me: "Well, one of the reasons I can do that is because when I walk into a room of people, it takes about 30 seconds or a minute to get a good feeling about peoples' personalities. I just do this naturally. This will probably come off as mean or cruel but it's pretty easy to see if someone's personality is strong or weak. By weak, I mean shy or quiet or too agreeable. With a weak personality, I stop feeling self conscious or awkward around them because I know I can say or do anything I want and they won't be speak up to say anything mean or openly disapproving. They'll just go along with it. I could even be mean to them and they'd just be quiet about it."

My Mom gives me an odd look. I keep going:

Me: "I realized they were extremely awkward and shy so I became outgoing because knew I wouldn't get any negative repercussions from them. I could have walked in there, eaten the food they offered, knocked over the dining room table and then just left without saying anything to them. Of course I wouldn't do that, but I could have. Instead I was really friendly, talkative and hugged them all and I knew they'd just appreciate that because of their personalities would take anything. Me being friendly like that, they just didn't have a chance but to like me. It was like shooting fish in a barrel."

Mom: "You know, that's a really bad way of looking at the situation. Why would you even suggest being cruel to someone because you think they would take it?"...

The conversation went on for a little longer. My Mom was a little bothered by my "dual" way of seeing the situation (in the sense that I think in terms of potentially being mean or nice ,as opposed to just nice). I guess it is negative, but I very much still look at things from a neutral perspective, where I can treat people positively or negatively. I don't usually want to hurt people, since there's nothing conductive to anyone having a good time that way. I just think like that.

My Mom had a good line to add in though.

Mom: "You know, I think you just like to portray yourself as dark or mean so that you're freed from the convention of people expecting something from you. You wouldn't actually do anything bad. You tend to focus on the negative and downplay the positive you do."

Her observation was actually pretty striking. I've thought about that all through the night and day today. I think she's right on the money. Just rereading my entire blog, it's pretty easy that I tend to focus on negative or dark imagery. I think I am a little dramatic and stuck in negativity, and not just because "adversity is more interesting than plain-and-easy".

I know that when I think about myself and my memories, bad situations do stand out easier than the positive ones. I don't consider myself a pessimist, but I do view the world as something inherent with good and bad experiences and it's just normal to run into each of them. It's not a secret either that my teenage and early 20s were filled with a lot of unhappiness, so a lot that's shaped me isn't love, trust, friendship and everything else the Care Bears taught us. Equally however, I do maybe focus too much on that since, today, I am a good and happy person most of the times.

She's not the first to suggest something like this. A few of my friends have said things similar. One in particular, who's name has not yet been mentioned, said I like to act like a dick just to cover up the fact that I care a lot about people. I think he was pretty right about that too.

Oh I definitely care about people

This is something I'll keep thinking about. I don't really have anything to conclude about this idea. I sure gotta give my Mom some credit though. She's a lot more perceptive than I had thought.

La Biere

Octoberfest Party! It was nice and tame, which is a perfect introduction to Halloween on this coming Friday. I sat on the ground with my friends, ate some delicious sourcrout and German sausages, while trying to convince a ginger-girl that her hair is proof she's aligned with the devil and should be institutionalized. This was her friendly reply:

The smile makes it friendly

I wanted to wow the audience at the party, so I tried to get myself some cheap lederhosen and German beer. The dress-up idea failed and the beer department wasn't particularly easy either. It's oddly tough, from my perspective, to get non-North American beers here in Montreal. I happened to be near a massive alcohol store and decided to look in there for some German beer. Of everything they had, I only found 2 brands of German beer hidden in the very back of the store. I think they had maybe 10 bottles in stock, total. It's the same situation for other Europeans beers, Dépanneurs just don't carry them much. I think I've seen 4 Belgian beers once. Yes, you should all become antiquated lovers to Belgian beer.

Looking through all the beer did make me awfully proud of my home though - Quebec has quite a massive selection of home-grown beer. I have only hit the iceberg, in my efforts to sample all of them. I don't know if this occurs elsewhere in Canada or the US, but most Quebec beers come in large bottle sizes, called 40s (40 ounces or 1.2L). It's the perfect size for carrying outside and drinking on the streets or in parks. Oh liberal Montreal police force, I love your tolerance of me and my beer.

Quebec beers have two more wonderful oddities about them. First, the alcohol content falls in the ranges of 5 to 12%. So two 40s later, you are very happy or very vomity, in case you're 16 years old and drinking in a part near your family's home (oh the memories). Second, Quebec beer names are by far the most fun, morbid or odd. Names are either A) religious references B) french swear words (which in French-Canadian or Québécois culture usually is about religion anyway), C) about people dying, or D) about magic and elves.

Let's go through some delicious examples!

Maudite - translates to "The Damned" or . 8%. Named for the story of some fur trappers who wanted to get home for Christmas, so they sold their souls to the Devil, who then flew them, in their oh-so-Canadian canoe, home...and then straight to hell. Wee!

Don de Dieu - translate to "Gift from God". 9%. Yay, for boats and fish and the New World and beer.




La Fin du Monde - translates to "The End of the World". 9%. Conveniently, the end begins in Quebec.


Éphémère - translates to...I have no idea. But, it has to do with fairies making beer. 5.5%. Mmm, delicious, it tastes like apples.





Coup de Grisou - translates to "Oh God I'm blind forever!" Based on the picture, it might be meteor related. 5%. Tastes like fruit and spice.

I could go on forever with wonderful Quebec names, including "Brave boatmen who fought the storm but all died anyway", "Hell horse coming to take your soul" and "Knome who makes beer", but the list would be endless. All at 8%.

It's only in French you can give anything a name and people will like it. A good bar I go to now is "Dieu du Ciel", which means God In The Sky. A favorite other bar, back in CEGEP, was "Foufoune Electrique", which translates to Electric Ass/Pussy. Come on, don't you wish you had these names where you lived?
Woo Quebec!

Trying to Find Gay Friends

It has become obvious to me lately that this blog has become my way of reaching out to the gay community. In all honesty, I don't actually interact with many gays apart from the guys I hit on or date. This internet-medium gives me a way of speaking, at least somewhat, with other gay guys. The vast majority of my friends are straight guys and straight women and I pretty much exclusively hangout with them. The last time I went to the Gay Village was...5 months ago? And that was just me working on my laptop, in a cafe for the day.

Does it bother me not really having any gay friends? Sometimes, but not much right now. I have had close gay friends, but we've drifted apart since. When I was first coming out in CEGEP and university, I was actively seeking out other gay people. I wanted to meet people who were like me and whom I could talk about being gay. Fiona, Alicia and others were an amazing support system, but I wanted to actually talk to someone else who felt the way I did.

Unfortunately, since my comfort level with my own homosexuality was so low, I was pretty disappointed with the people I met. It wasn't their fault though. I did tend to project onto other gays my fears of "gay culture" (or at least what little I had been stereotypically exposed to) and what I was afraid of inside myself. However, in a lot of the cases, I either didn't have anything in common with the people I met or it just wasn't worth trying to penetrate their little clique, bitchy groups.

I did eventually make some gay male and females friends, but that was only really only in the last year of university and we're not really friends anymore. Today, I have plenty of acquaintances, but I don't care much about them since I would never choose to call them up to hangout. The more recent happenings will be a topic of a different post. I think for the rest of this post I'll focus on the period of me unsuccessfully trying to find other gay people with whom I could relate.

In CEGEP, when I first came-out/ was outed, I briefly checked out the school's Queer Association. The group was really small, I didn't feel I could talk to anyone (knowing that I was too afraid to even talk about my own feelings, this outcome was obvious) and the head of the association had an instant crush on me. In all bluntness, the head-guy was a one-man pride parade and that freaked me out. Up until then, I was looking for other gay people who were not the stereotyped image that I was so desperate to prove wrong and stay away from. So for a mixed bag of reasons, I stayed away from all of them.

As an unrelated note, based on that CEGEP group it's really sad to see how many gay teenagers have fucked up lives (not of their own faults). The head-guy was afraid to go home at night because of what his single dad would do to him. Two other girls there were alcohol and drug addicts. I was pretty fucked up in my own head as well.

I was sure I would meet some similar-minded people when I got involved with my university's Queer Association. There was a huge student body and lots of organized events. Well, it turns out I was wrong. There, I seemed to encounter two distinct types of people:

- incredibly awkward individuals, who had been social stunted by whatever factors in life (maybe being gay made them too scared to speak to people or maybe they just liked playing alone, in the dark, in the basement a little too much or again maybe just a bad history)
OR
- individuals who were pleasant on the surface, but who are part of their own clique, so deeply rooted in some sub-culture that it was impossible to actually comment or add anything to a conversation with them and their other clique friends. Most of the time they were also pretty hostile to outsiders. Unfortunately, most queer women that I have met fall into this category.

I ended up volunteering on and off for about a year at my university's association, but nothing really changed. Always the same, few clique people who spent way too long talking about some amazing underground, subversive lesbian comic published in Plattsburgh/Michigan Womyn's music festival or kids who were as interesting as doorknobs.


My search did briefly go toward the internet forums and Gay.com. After sorting through the dozen of older men who's profile pictures were penises or whom wanted to cam with me, I did speak to 2 or 3 guys my age. The first guy seemed nice and I met him person, but I quickly realized I wanted nothing to do with him since he used the word fucking and faggot way too often in a sentence. I got talking to a second guy, on a university's downhill ski team, who was more closeted than me and would spend half his time high, drunk and hoping all the gays would just die and he'd be "cured". He wanted to meet me in person and asked if I would dress like a woman for him. I THINK NOT.
Based on these experiences, I hope you all agree with my decision to stop looking for The Gays on the internets.

The first real connection to another gay person happened without me even trying. One day I got a Facebook message from a guy at my university. I had only just joined the site and it was cool to see someone thought I was cute. I looked at his profile and he turned out to be beautiful. We ended up sending messages back and forth for a week or two before we decided to meet up one day. I'm not going to get into detail about meeting and talking with him, but suffice to say it went really well. I've already written about part of the encounter in the post just under this one. Pretty much the first cool gay guy I meet, I end up hooking up with and dating.

Another first

He put the movie into the DVD player and I sat myself down on his couch. I was impressed by all his nice furniture - I knew I wasn't going to get a new couch or bed when I moved out for the second part of university. He came over and sat next to me an we started to watch the movie.

Of course, neither of us cared about the movie. We had already seen one earlier this afternoon, but obviously this was all just a pretense to spend more time together. We held our bodies next to each other and we held hands. It's like we were two kids on their first date in middle school. I never got the chance to go on a date with someone at that age, but I could tell this was the exact awkward feeling most teenagers had at that age. Eventually, I lied down with my head on his legs.

I didn't have the courage to initiate the first of most moves. Up until then, I had only made out with women, which I really don't count as much. I was nervous and shy, even though I clearly had no reason to be. We knew each other and it was obvious we thought pretty positively of one-another.

Him, on the other hand, had done this plenty of times. He put his hands on either side of my face and we kissed. Corny or lame as it sounds, I was actually pretty surprised. None of this felt natural to me. The image of teenage "love" kept coming back into my mind. I laughed.

That's right, I laughed after we kissed for the first time. It's a pretty annoying impulse that I still have to today: if I feel awkward about a situation I automatically laugh. It doesn't matter what happened, I just laugh.

He gave me a funny look, but didn't decide to give up. We started making out and feeling each other. He lied down next to me and we took turns rolling on top of the other. Our belts were getting in the way, so we took them off. I loved touching him all over. There's no reason for me to lie: he had an amazing body. Solidly cut abs, tanned skin, nice muscle, very short black hair with a bit of stubble and black eyes that disappeared when he smiled or laughed. The whole dark and cute look really gets me.

I don't know how much time passed, but eventually I picked him up and carried him to his bedroom. We kissed more and then I pushed him backwards onto the bed. I got on top of him and lifted him by the base of his arms to better position him under me.

"I love how our bodies fit perfectly into each other," he said.

You all know what he meant by that, or at least I hope. Both of you facing each other, your legs intertwined, with half your body on the other person and the other half on the bed. Each with one arm around the other. The way puzzle pieces fit together perfectly.


Some more time passed.

"Shit, what time is it. I have to leave for a concert at 9", I said.

We look over at the clock - 9:05. He looks over at me with his big black eyes,
"No, wait, the clock's fast,"

He grabs the clock and changes the time to 8:50. I look back in this eyes and his big smile.

So cute.

------

Alicia: "What's up? You seem really excited for the concert."

Me: "Ya, I am. But I also just spent the last 4 hours making out with this guy"

Alicia: "Damnit, why does this never happen to me."

Xav appears.

Xav: "Hey guys, thanks for waiting for me. Wow Thomas, you sure are smiling a lot."

Me: "Hehe, yup."

-----

A while ago, Justin of Guy from Chicago said that his couch is always the starting point of something good. I remember that because it is so true. Almost every genuine, good moment I've had with other guys always starts on a couch.
I hope you all own a good couch.

A Good Push

My outlook on being gay was much more positive when I began university. I wasn't comfortable actually telling any potential friends immediately, but I knew that I would eventually tell those I cared about. If you recall my posts about coming out in CEGEP, you should realize that I knew people could accept me for who I am, however I also learned the harsh lesson that some people don't take it immediately well and others care nothing for your well being.

Alicia was one of the most important people in my university life. Oddly enough, I've only briefly mentioned her once in this blog. One day in an undergrad class of 800 students, she would wave to me from 10 rows down and try to get me to sit next to her. She would eventually walk up to me and for every other lesson of that course we would write messages on a paper to each other, while occasionally listening to the professor. It's not hard to guess she went out on this limb for a stranger because she thought I was hot. Obviously, I wouldn't go for it but this would spark our friendship. She would call us BFFs and I would cringe every time I heard that acronym because it makes me think of stupid 13 year old girls.


After a term and summer of knowing one another, I would eventually tell her I was gay. I was nervous about saying it, although nothing in the caliber of my first coming-out. In fact, I kind of said it "in-passing" in a biology lab, so as the minimize my nervousness:

Alicia: Wow, this poriferan [sponge] is really cool looking.

Me: Ya, look at its spicules. By the way, I'm gay.

Alicia: Nice...wait, what?

Over the next two and a half years, Alicia would really become one of my closest female friends. She would push my queer-comfort boundaries so that I could speak more easily about things. I would actually consistently start opening up about my insecurities, worries and even my thoughts about which guys I considered attractive. Not all the time, but it was a positive start. For me, talking about my fears or saying a guy was hot was a such a big no-no. Before, voicing those things had always made myself feel emasculated, whinny and unworthy. Unworthy of what? I didn't even know, but I would somehow feel diminished as a man. Alicia, however, just made it feel normal and good.

Alicia would also force me to face being gay in front of other. No, she wouldn't ask me wear tight pink shirts and fake a high-pitched voice. She would however constantly force me hang out with her 6000 friends. Here's when I'd learn to be friendly with most types of strangers without feeling the need to mask myself behind heterosexual stereotypes. I would just be me and everything would be alright. More than a few times we would also make mad dashes to her laptop to check Facebook on whether some guy we had both just met was straight or gay.

Knowing my luck, the guy was always straight.

This wasn't a one-way relationship either. I would go above and beyond to help Alicia with her problems. At minimum, I would be the shoulder for her to cry on. Her story isn't mine to tell, so I will leave it at that.


These changes wouldn't happen quickly, but they would slowly dig themselves under my skin. Thank to Alicia, my indoctrination into hipsterism, building-climbing, winter-time adventures, potlucks and going trigger-happy with shitty digital cameras would also happen. I can even add onto that my saying she was responsible for cutting my hair for a year, convincing me to adopt Giant African snails and for my Mom falling in love with her.
Yup, definitely BFFs. *cringe*

It sucks that she chose to go to Med school in Sydney, Australia, but we still skype each other from time to time and exchange lots of Facebook messages and pokes. She should be coming back to US/Canada for the Australian summer break (Dec-Feb), so it'll be fun to see her then. She also loves to remind me that I broke her heart by being gay.


Australia better be treating her well - OR ELSE.

And this is what I do at work

Sometimes when I'm in a very boring meeting at work, I go onto Craigslist and look at the photos of people looking to hookup. Check out this one:

Click to enlarge

TWINS! 6'3! Faces and bodies like that! Who the hell would say not to two hot guys like that.
If I was into craigslist hook-ups, I would have responded to these guys instantly.

It's not only straight guys who love the idea of twins.

What's in a Name

To add onto the post below post, have you ever wondered where the blog name Winds That You Rise comes from?

First, click the play button for this song called Undertow by the Stars and then read on:


When I first decided I wanted to make a blog, I had a tough time trying to come up with a name. I couldn't think of anything clever or original, so I kind of just skipped that step for a while and designed the other blog features. Fast forward a bit of time, I was listening to the above song and I pretty much decided to steal their chorus phrase. I definitely like the song, I like its meaning and I like that fact that my blog's name sounds like improper grammar. The artists also currently live in Montreal. It is very much a name that suits me.

1 Month of Blogging!

Today marks the 1 month anniversary of the WindsThatYouRise Blog!

Is it a real thing to celebrate? Fuck Ya!

The fact that I've managed to actually get a few readers makes me feel great. I like the idea of entertaining people, and I hope all of you have been enjoying reading these small recounts of my life. My intention is to keep writing, especially since I feel like I have so many things to write about.

Maybe I'm just weird (well ya, I'm nuts) but I get excited when thinking about things to write about. I even keep a little post-it, to remind me of few good topics/stories for future posts. At times, I can't even get my mind to quiet down for sleep because I get excited about a new idea or something I just remembered. I wonder if other bloggers get this same feeling? Maybe I'm still just the "honeymoon phase".

In terms of writing, I've never actually written for my own/others' entertainment. Some of my first posts lacked a bit of flow, but I feel that this blog has been a giant learning experience and a great success. For me, the whole writing process does take time: typically when I write, it takes me an hour to really put my thoughts and feeling into words. Then I either edit or just straight post the entry and come back to it later for editing. Pictures come after. Bad grammar, missing words and disjointed sentences are my curse.

At this point, I think I should go over a few things about my blog and the direction its heading:

- I much prefer putting up my own or my friends' pictures, instead of random photos from the internet. At the same time, I'd prefer to keep my friends and acquaintances as anonymous as myself. You can tell if the picture belongs to me/my friends because the people will have their eyes or part of their face covered. If you see a person's eyes on my blog, it's because I stole that image from the internet.

- Like above, most non-people photos that I post are also usually taken by a friend or myself. I think the irrational fetish post is the only entry that features mostly images I stole from the internet...just because it's awkward taking pictures of peoples' ankles or heads without them being bothered. Rule of thumb: if the photo looks slightly bad quality and that it wasn't made in some fancy studio, then it's probably mine.

- Pictures featuring my own face have only occurred once, in my random hand-puppet post. Nope, you can't tell much about me...other than I'm white and male.

- There will be more photos of myself shown, in particular one of me without my shirt on. No, I'm not just doing that because I'm narcissistic/fishing-for-compliments and want strangers from the internet to fawn over me (ok, maybe a bit...). The reason is that it's actually very relevant for the story of the stalker who followed me around/out of the university pool. Oh, I bet you can't wait to hear that one ;)

- 97% of what I say is true. My friends' names are changed, for the anonymity factor. My name is real, although different friends call me different names. If I say I did something yesterday, in reality I might have actually done that 3 days ago. All things I've written about did actually occur in my life. Horrible, wonderful and real.

- Some of you seem to have AIM and have given me your IDs or offered to add me. Sorry, but I don't have AIM right now. I'm considering getting it to interact with whoever wants to speak to me, but I'm not sure yet. Some of you I would definitely love to "talk" to in real time. I just need to decide if I would actually have the time to log on and speak to you meaningfully. I'm not gonna lie either, I'm kind of shy about directly talking with people who read my blog. I'll let you guys know what I decide.

- The posts will become more interactive. Up to now, you have all been mostly reading stories of myself, as I get you up-to-speed about me. As the events get more recent, it will be less "this is what happened" and more "this is the situation and I'm not sure what to do".

As my final note: I love responses. I love comments. I love emails. I love sharing. I love it when someone has an idea for my blog or posts. I love positive and negative feedback. I love you when you reach out to interact with me.

Thomas's Email: windsthatyourise@gmail.com

Something to miss

For the last few days, I've been feeling a little more sentimental or emotional than usual. I've noticed myself falling more into daydreams about being held by or holding some other guy in my arms. Some of the songs I listen to seem to also be hitting a heart-chord inside of me. A few days ago, I saw two young guys holding hands downtown and a part of me completely melted inside, thinking "Aw, they're ssssooooo cute". Normally, only a basket full of kittens could do that me.

Feeling like this isn't bad, but it does remind me that I'm not currently seeing anyone. It's not that I regret being single - my self esteem doesn't really come from dating/being in a relationship. I consider myself a pretty happy guy, whether I'm single or seeing someone. But I think you all understand that feeling you have, when you know someone likes you and you're seeing them. There's a recognition of something similar in the both of you. I'm having trouble expressing in words what I mean...it's like a feeling of having a little extra. You're not lacking anything when you're single, but when you're with another person there's, like, a little more of everything. It's not love specifically, since I think that develops with time. It's more like closeness and sharing.


I think my state relates a lot to missing the intimacy and the comfort of being with another guy:
Myself and the other guy spooning on the couch, with the sides of our faces touching. Feeling the tiny stubble against my cheek and the warmth of his skin, as we slowly rub our faces together. Our legs are intertwined and our socks are off so we can feel each our bare feet. One of us has his arms around the other. We can feel each others' heart beats. One turns around to kiss the other. Small little pecks across the face and a longer kiss on the lips. One turns into two and then three and four. A hand slides up and down over the chest. The big spoon slowly rocks into the little spoon. We cradle like a single person. Nothing but whispers and sighs. It doesn't have to turn into anything else. Everything in the world seems perfect for just that moment.

That is what I miss.

Mary, we need to talk

I feel bad that we haven't seen each other in so long. I know, I know, it's been 10 months. I should make more of an effort to see you...it's just that I never find myself in the mood to.

No! No, I don't mean it like that. I DO appreciate you. Maybe not over the first few years, but the rare times we see each other these days are always memorable and fun. Come on, remember last time? I never would have thought I'd end up waking up in a random girl's bed, covered in carrot bits. Apparently I had enough energy to chew the carrots but not to actually swallow them.

The problem is that sometimes it can be a little awkward. You know what I mean...I'm not too sure how to handle you sometimes. Do I just take a big puff or do I just breath easy and pass on. Listen to me, I'm just being honest about what I believe.

I also feel like I need to tell you something. Well, Mike - you know Mike, right? Ya, well, 2 months ago he kind of set me up with... Ya, exactly...

I'm...I'm sorry. It was just so easy though. What would you do if your friend came up to you with everything all ready? No mess, no fixing or rolling? Exactly, you know I don't really know how. I've been riding the free train ever since the beginning so I have no idea what parts to even cut up or roll.

HEY, just because I'm 23 years old and I've never actually rolled my own joint doesn't make me a baby! Yes, I'm embarrassed that I cough like a lung-cancer patient when I take a puff, but if you're just going to be an asshole like that then I'm just going to stick to my shisha. At least she understands me a whole lot better than you AND I never cough with her. SO smooth and delicious. That's right, I'm thinking about her right now! She even gets peoples' pants off for me!

If it's going to be this way then, I need to tell you something too. You and your stinking green, dried up buds have been sitting in my desk for the last 10 months. I put you in a plastic bag, but now your smell seems to have seeped out so all my paper and work books smell like weed. What the hell is up with that? DO you think I can go meet client now, with my notepads smelling like drugs? If I ever try to reach for my calculator now, I get a giant, wonderful-smelling whiff of the Mary Jane. How am I suppose to keep working like this? Even the cat has noticed! She likes to sit next to your bag and get high off the fumes!

What am I going to do with you...

I guess I could smoke you, but that means having to put the effort into learning to roll and all that. Of course, it's a "valuable" skill but I would need to get over my laziness. Haha, I find it funny that I think about you once a week, and that I should just get you done with, but then 3 minutes later I forget you're even in my desk. Hmmm, I don't even know if weed is still even good after 10 months...

Your blue hair is making me want to make-out

It's tough to define what physical traits I find attractive in guys. I'm not too sure if I have a type. On one hand, I think I have a general tendency for a certain type of guys, especially if I'm just looking at strangers on the streets or in cafes. On the other hand, all the guys I've dated/had a relationship just about never follow that general trend that I noticed. Maybe I have different criteria for the random, hot stranger on the street and the actual person I will want to date.

It's probably a good thing not to be able to specify these characteristics. Of course, if you're good at analyzing writing, you should realize that I've gone a bit out of my way NOT to let any of you know what physical traits I find hot.

To put a curve in the direction of this post, I've come to realize that there are a few very random things that I find extremely attractive. I guess we could call them fetishes, but I really wouldn't give these things that much "sexual power". They're mostly little traits or things that are completely irrational. They don't really even relate to the shape or look of one's own body, but if I see that a person has one of them, there's a 75% chance that I'll like them, regardless of anything else.
I think it would a lot more fun to write about these so here we go:

IRRATIONAL THINGS THOMAS FINDS ATTRACTIVE

Bikers with pant legs rolled up

In case you didn't know, bikers roll up one side of their pants, to avoid the loose fabric from being pulled into the chain ring and ripped apart.

Whenever I see someone with one (or both) pant legs rolled up, I just want to become their best friend and start touching them inappropriately. It might be because I equate biking to being fit and athletic. Or maybe I have a fetish for hipsters? Or maybe I'm trying very hard to be a hipster, who knows...but weird, eh? (Canadian colloquialism!)

Hair Dyed an Unnatural Colour

This one has been back with me since I was in CEGEP. I just love seeing guys with hair dyed an unnatural colour. None of that blond, brown or black colouring crap. I mean bright red, blue or green. Highlights and frosted tips are decent, but the whole head is really what catches my eye. I myself had blue hair a few years ago...which quickly turned green....and then yellow/green...and then hideous.

I have had to hold myself back once from just grabbing a guy on bus and making-out with him, just because his head was dyed a perfect red/orange/yellow. It looked like his head was on fire... and apparently I find that attractive.


Clearly, this "fetish" kicks in when I'm walking by punk kids. I've even wanted to get up and close with a few women because of their hair.

Handkerchief-scarf or Keffiyeh-like scarf

My first reaction to seeing someone wear one was annoyance: "great, some other stupid indie/hipster trend" ... so naturally I had to jump aboard that train! Unfortunately, yes, I am human and also subject to trends. I've never bought either but now when I see someone with it, I feel the invisible attractive force pulling me toward them.


Since it is now Fall in the northern hemisphere, these scarf-variations are popping up everywhere so I'm having a little more trouble concentrating when walking downtown.

Saying the word "Inclusive" out loud

When a guy says the word inclusive, I automatically can't help but think that he's really nice and thoughtful - the kind of person who makes sure everyone in the group is having a good time; the kind of person that thinks about others first; the kind of person I want to feel-up.

The context in which the word is used doesn't even matter. A guy could probably say "let's be inclusive to rabies" and I would probably really like him anyway.

------

If I ever run into a person, with one pant leg folded up, wearing a handkerchief-scarf, with blue hair, who happens to utter the word inclusive, I think I would cream my pants on the spot. Don't worry, I would have no shame about it and I would feel obliged to inform you all.

On a final note, if any of readers out there happen to have all of these traits, please marry me.

Fire in the City

"I'm back in Montreal on Tuesday, so it's time to have a bonfire!" Excellent, a Facebook-event right up my alley.

We were the first to arrive at the gathering spot, so we found some wood (half-destroyed chairs found on railway tracks burn surprisingly well), set it up tepee-style and lit the fire. It didn't take too long for others to find us and begin roasting-up some marshmallows. After about 2 hours, there were 15 bodies around the fire.


The fire pit location was in a small, lost plot of trees/brush surrounded by a cement wasteland, overpass and train tracks. No residential places in direct sight. No cars driving through this area at night (or during the day even). Rarely a soul moving about, other than our own. Perfect.


Nothing eventful really happened, but it was nice to talk and gaze at the fire. The police ended up driving by and staring at us. They just looked at us, and the 15 of us looked back at them and continued talking. The police realized that doing anything to us would just cause them trouble. I also like to believe they knew we weren't up-to-no-good, so they pretended they never saw us.

Xav, myself, and the Montreal-visitor, who arranged the event, went off through the brush to gather some more wood. One reason I really like this place, apart from the seclusion while still being in the middle of the city, is that it's right next to the bus-graveyard. The city stores all it's old, hacked-up buses here. This has made for fun exploring and mischief: jumping along bus rooftops, in the rain, is pretty damn awesome.


Unfortunately, it seems the city was tired of hooligans such as ourselves, having fun with the buses. Only two were left. *Tear* for the bus graveyard.


We returned to the gathering, with fresh wood. I don't know why, but the (former) bus-graveyard has so much good burning-wood to collect. We threw the logs onto the pile and sat back down.

Xav: So apart from work, friends, family and all that, how are you actually feeling these days Thomas?

Me: I'm doing really well. I've honestly been really happy over the last year. No hedonic treadmill for me. Life is good.

Xav: Good.

Soon enough, Xav and I said our goodbyes to the group and went walking along the train tracks, back to where our bikes were hidden. We agreed on plans for skiing/snowboarding this winter. I told him I'm thinking of visiting some US cities in January, since my job gives me that freedom. He thought it was a good idea.

On the ride back home, Xav mentions the "Perfect Guy from the Abandoned Building". I swoon and day-dream for a second. That gave me just enough time to almost run into a parked car. I tell Xav that he's a jackass.

Lying down in my bed, I notice that my face feels warm from the campfire and that my hair smells like it as well. It's a good feeling. Life is good.

Googly Eyes

Guys, what have I told you about leaving glue and craft supplies lying around? I understand you got them for your class, but you all know Thomas is like a little kid - you can't trust him around that stuff. He just goes wild. He'd probably end up choking on the glue-stick or something.

Wait. Who's been using my camera? Ah damnit, Thomas already knows you bought the stuff.



The best remark I've gotten about these photos is

"As ever, your right hand remains your best friend."

Please feel free to try to beat that.

The First Betrayal

If this blog were a piece of fiction, this would be an example of a perfect literary style: The main character would have finally built up the courage to take action against his fear. He would even succeed. The pages would describe his celebration and breaking free from all that held him back. Then, just as everything seemed to be perfect, the author would throw a a figurative wrench into his engine and destroy all that was built. All that was created would come undone.

The great part about this and the previous entry, is that they need not be made up. It was an ironic, literary-life come true through me.

Fat-Fucking-Bitch is the appropriate name I have given to the person who decided to out me to every other person I had met in CEGEP. As coincidences work in this world of ours, I had become good friends with Fiona at the same time as Fat-Fucking-Bitch (FFB). FFB and I knew each other. I considered her to be a pretty cool person. A bit of a drama queen, but really friendly and fun. She was actually one of the key players that would create "the greater group" of friends that we both came to be part of.

Encouraged by Fiona, I came out to FFB one week after I had told Fiona I was gay. I was riding a bit of a high. I began to think everything was going my way, so why would this go differently? Her reaction was that she had known I was gay all along and that there was nothing wrong with that. We had a quick little chat about myself and I explained to her that she had to keep this secret because I wasn't comfortable with myself just yet and that I didn't want other people to find out, especially our group of mutual friends. She understood and said she wouldn't talk about it with anyone other than Fiona. Everything seemed good.

At home that day, I felt great about myself. I was sure how to describe it but it was as if a long burden was slightly lightened. In my eyes, FFB was becoming a close friend and I was understanding that my friends could appreciate me for myself.

Come one week later, every person I had become friends with knew I was gay.
Did I play any part in telling them? Not at all.
How did I feel about that? I was absolutely terrified.
I didn't want everyone to know I was gay. I didn't want them thinking differently of me or acting as if I wasn't the same person. I wanted to be Thomas and not just the Gay Guy. With them knowing my most private secret, I felt exposed and vulnerable to them. What happens if some of them wanted to act out against me? I was freaked out and my mind wouldn't stop racing through realistic or outlandishly terrible scenarios.

How did they react when I walked into our usual hangout, at CEGEP? Well, I wasn't the Gay Guy but I wasn't Thomas either. I was something else. Eyes looked to the sides. Conversations stopped as I came into view.Nothing was the same and it wouldn't be for the next few months. I wouldn't see them as much. I would became miserable. My depression got a lot worse during that time. When I did hang out with anyone from the group, no one would mention I was gay, including myself. The talks I had with Fiona would be exceptions to this rule.

How did I find out FFB outed me to everyone? Fiona would run up to me in a panic to tell me that FFB had told them all. Later, I would also go up to FFB and she would freely admit it, as if nothing was wrong.

I have few positive memories of FFB. As I would slowly become comfortable with my greater group of friends (although my comfort with being gay would still lag behind), we would all acknowledge FFB as more of a whinny, attention-seeking bitch. People would push her away. Into the second year of CEGEP, she would start cutting herself and would twice need an ambulance to save her life from alcohol poisoning.

Would I feel bad for her? Never. She would try to become friends with me again, but at my best I would tolerate her and use her for what she would offer for free.

Do I seem angry and bitter about this? Well ya.
Am I still angry at her today? Nope, I don't really care about her at all.

Like I said at the beginning of this post, the recounting of The First Person I Told and My First Betrayal is like a classic book genre. Fiona was a perfect complement to my personality and FFB was the perfect antithesis to Fiona and my character; Fat-Fucking-Bitch was exactly what my closeted, protective self was scared of. That is something I just don't forget or forgive.

Here's another tip, for you all, about the perfect story: the novels that win all the awards and are praised by the highest critics in the literary field just don't end happily.