No Sh**!!! Zone: March

I've decided to resurrect the No Sh**!!! Zone because-- well, because it's just so darn clever. From now on, I'll be doing (or at least trying to do) Abelard Enigma's theme of the month. No bull. No shit. It's the No sh**!!! Zone.

For March, the theme is First Meaningful Kiss. When I think of meaningful kisses, I think of The Sound of Music, at the end of the "16 Going on 17" scene: Liesl and Future Nazi are dancing around the gazebo, and then... Nazi grabs Liesl and plants one on her! She runs out into the rain, screaming!

For my first kiss, I was laying on my bed, blindfolded and half-naked, when I was then attacked by my inexperienced schoolmate. Kinky Chink! Not very romantic. It also didn't help that he was an awful kisser (felt like I was kissing a freaking carp) and dropped gum on my face.

Admittedly, the sight of an attractive guy locking eyes and leaning in towards me definitely sets my heart a-pounding, but what is that, really? Adrenaline rush? It then leads to full-on making out, which --don't get me wrong-- is a hell of a good time, but is something I find to be more geared towards arousal than affection.

Looking back, my first kisses with guys have all been pretty earthy. I don't know when I'll have my first "meaningful" kiss-- the one that'll send me, flushed and and anxious, from the safety of a gazebo into the pouring rain.

*Note: I failed my New Year's Resolution, like most people do, but I haven't given up! I started anew with my "Whore No More" goal. Maybe I'll receive a meaningful kiss now!

Dreaming of Experiences

I just love posting semi-relevant pictures of hot guys when I blog.

The other day, I was having a lovely chat with my good friend and fellow blogger boskers, and like the good Mohos we are, we talked about dreams, goals, and the Mormon church. After boskers told me a couple of his dreams, I proceeded to list off a bunch of goals I had. (i.e. The typical graduating from college, finding a guy to marry, having kids... white picket fence, etc.)

I paused. Why did I want to do all this? Why didn't I want to delve into the inner me in the process of "Finding Myself" and discover true acceptance? These thoughts reminded me of an article I read about how happiness can be measured by the number of experiences one has.

I thought about this at my friend's sister's school play as well. I want to have kids. I want to drive them to soccer practice, help them rehearse their lines, accept their macaroni art. Hell, I'd even throw a football around with them if I had to.

I want to fall in love and then be heartbroken. I want to surprise my little sister by taking her out to lunch when she's at school. I want to be kissed in the rain. I want to chaperone toddlers around at Disneyland and watch their faces light up when they meet The Little Mermaid.

I want, I want, I want... I'm starting to sound a little pathetic, aren't I?

Landon's Mine!

*krrkt* Landon Carter, please come to the front desk. Landon Carter to the front desk. Thank you! *krrkt*

I saw A Walk to Remember for the very first time a few nights ago. I've heard nothing but good things about this movie-- apparently it's a chick flick classic. And guess who directed it? Adam Shankman. Who would've guessed? A homo making a film for teen girls and other homos.

And of course, I fell for Landon Carter, which is weird because I thought Edward from the Twilight series was repulsive. I gagged my way through the first book.

In any case, I want my own Landon Carter! This bad-boy-turned-good character was cute in all ways possible. I think the contrast of his douchiness in the first part of the movie made him seem even more angelic in the second half.

However, in order to hook a guy like that, I'd have to be more in character with innocent and religious Jamie Sullivan... and we all know that's not going to happen any time soon.

When Will My Reflection Show...?

This last week, my boss was out of town, which meant that Pandora was blasting its music in the office the entire week. To avoid the risk of having one of the professors overhear "Bedrock" by L'il Wayne or "Don't Trust Me" by 3oh3, I set the station to Disney and sang along to songs I hadn't listened to for years.

Then this song came on...

I love Mulan! Despite the movie being a giant chink-a-thon, Mulan kicks ass. Admit it; she's got the most balls of all the Disney chicas, which is perfect for her cross-dressing...

In any case, one line of the song in particular caught my attention: "Now I see that if I were truly to be myself, I would break my family's heart." (0:18-0:32)

My god. Mulan and I have so much in common. So as the movie progresses, Mulan defies gender stereotypes, kicks some major Hun booty, saves the emperor, and restores honor to the Fa family.

Wish I could have that storybook ending, but for now, I must endure dishonoring my own family with my sexuality. How long must I live under the guise of a celibate Mormon? How can I avoid hurting my family more than I already have?

When will my reflection show who I am inside?

Always Hated, Always Loved

Growing up, I was always either the guy that people liked or the guy that people knew was there-- positive or neutral feelings. I was never disliked. When my friends argued, I often took the neutral standpoint. If I was brought up in conversation, people would say, "Oh he's a smart kid," or "Yeah I was in his class... I didn't know him too well."

Perhaps it was because I didn't divulge much about myself to anybody, or maybe it's because I was always either quiet or nice in most social situations. Call it artificial, but I safeguarded my secret homosexuality with a smile plastered on my face. Don't get me wrong; I disliked a good handful of people, but my reputation in high school was a positive one, and people therefore treated me accordingly.

In the past few months, however, I've met someone who, despite my smiles and hugs, spews nothing but insults about me and to me. At first, I pretended to laugh it off and continued trying to be his friend, but to no avail. Eventually, I degenerated to giving him glares and snippish comments, and it is apparent in our social group that animosity is abound.

I'm not used to this. I'm not used to someone disliking me so much. To brashly snapping at his face. To snarling about him behind his back. To actually hating somebody. Somehow I feel that my actions are justified because he never accepted my olive branches, but I know that it's still not a Christian thing to do; I'm not turning the other cheek.

A few nights ago, my friend, when in a drunken stupor, gave me some advice. He said, "I'm going to tell you something. There's always going to be somebody who hates you, and somebody who likes you. The trick is not to care. Look at me; everybody hates me. Do I care?"

I've heard this piece of advice before, but for some reason it stuck that night. Of course some people are going to dislike me if I actually show them the real me. Now my only problem is... How do I not care?

Greek and Roman Pornology

The church makes me really mad sometimes. Yesterday, the stake presidency came to talk to our Elder's Quorum about a variety of topics, ranging from temple covenants to Prop 8. Thank God I was asleep for all but the last two topics, or I probably would have walked out in the middle of the meeting.

One of the stake presidency said that all nude art is porn. That's right, folks. The Birth of Venus, The Thinker, and Michelangelo's David is all pornography. He said that when presented with a piece of nude art, one should say, "That is not art. That is porn." Ridiculous. Understandably, I wouldn't want my kids to see an independent film chock-full of sex scenes, but I wouldn't bar them from viewing "The Creation of Adam" by Michelangelo. I guess my Mythology professor has been flashing all of us porn during the class presentations.

Not only was this man's statement stupid and close-minded, it was also offensive.

Moreover, when he talked about the issue of Prop 8, he just blew my mind. The manner in which he was speaking was comparable to that of a war general rallying the troops. He then proceeded to quote a student who had humiliated her professor in front of his class because he was a gay rights activist: "Homosexuality is clearly wrong. The parts just don't fit."

Oh, the naivete. If only it were that simple.

Let's consider a man who's incredibly well-endowed and a very petite woman. What if their parts don't fit with each other's? Guess they weren't meant to be, eh? Because that's clearly and obviously the only criterion to determine love.