so I decided it was time for a blog post. I was recently to Dartmouth for the graduation ceremony of Class of 2009. I'm covering this in excruciating, and often unnecessary, detail on Facebook so I won't reiterate the details here. However, I'm going to say a few words about how it made me feel.
I guess this trip to Dartmouth finally allowed me to let go of my imaginary lost paradise and get going with my life. For a long time, I didn't want to interact with Seattle, its people and what else it had to offer, because it was not the same as what I had at Dartmouth. For a long time, I felt separated from my closest people, and I had started thinking there was no point in trying to create lasting relationships, because another "forceful separation" would duly come.
Then I went to Dartmouth, and had a much longed for, much dreamed about, much magnified and mythologized reunion with the people that made Dartmouth home for me. And what I saw was very unequivocal, and very clear - they had all moved on, nobody was trying to hold on to a past snapshot of time. I guess that allowed me to move on also. The invisible wall inside of me that shielded me from my new home crumbled, and I realized that I can always go back to the period between 2004-2008 in my mind without being its prisoner at the same time.
My friends, unknowingly, helped me go on once again. My mother's prophecy turned right - "things are going to sort themselves out when you go there." So they did.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Long-postponed update
It has been nearly three months since I last updated this blog, and it's hard for me to figure out which of the things that have happened since are important enough to be put here. I will nevertheless attempt to bring up the main points.
Work-wise, things have been going well - my mid-year review which was completed sometime in February was very positive, my manager calling me a "real asset" and "boon" for Microsoft, also going as far as to say "I'm proud and pleased to be your colleague". All of this was, frankly, unexpected, because I never thought the job I was doing was all that. My job is to fix bugs in several areas of Windows, and an easy measure of performance is the number of bugs fixed over a certain period. This is, of course, relative, because some bugs are harder to fix than others. However, I always felt a little self-conscious because my bug count was lower compared to the average for my team. Nevertheless, my manager was more willing to look at the fact that they were also hard, tricky bugs which didn't always lend themselves nicely to the techniques we employ for solving problems. All in all, I was a winner, and I could breathe again.
I was also given a software project to work on, which brought me back a little to college days when we'd have a software assignment, only this time I was flying solo and there was no class to prepare me for the task. It is an interesting project (the details of which I don't wanna go into), but I had to learn a lot of new technologies and source code to even start doing something useful. In a way, it reminded me of my thesis, where I didn't start writing until the latter half of my second (and last) term of thesis research, simply because the area had been completely unknown to me prior to embarking on the project. I almost feel that it's always going to be like that for me in computer-related fields: there is simply too much to grasp by a simple human being, and frankly I don't spend much of my time outside of work dealing with computers. (Which will be expanded on in a different post)
As far as love life goes, I had taken a hiatus from dating after Korian, because I was emotionally tired and needed some time to recollect my thoughts; and also because now, unlike any other time in my life, I was willing to wait to find the right person. I have made in my life choices based on loneliness, and they have rarely had good outcomes, so I vowed to not do it again. Indeed, for about 3 months after I officially "broke up" with Korian, I didn't date anyone. There was this one guy I met in the club in (I think) late January, who seemed to me like a good dancer, and he was also cute, so I demonstrated my interest. After some ambiguous back-and-forth I got bored and decided to leave the club, and surprisingly he followed me. He drove me to my place, and we parted after a few sweet kisses and promises to hang out. These promises never materialized, and I lost interest soon thereafter.
Then in March I started going again to the club which had thrown me out for 6 months. Yes, indeed, I respected the 6-month ban, and I hadn't set foot there since October. I remember the very first time I went there in March - I was very very nervous and tried to keep a low profile, usually stuck in the thickest crowd of people so as to be less noticeable. I was so preoccupied with that that I forgot to have fun. But over time my concerns dissipated, mostly due to the fact that the guards either didn't recognize me anymore, or didn't care anymore - both ways it was good for me :) I was very glad, because this is the only club near where I live which plays my kind of music. It had been somewhat of an ordeal going to the other clubs and grooving to hours of trashy dance and Euro disco music.
Some things had changed in the club, but some hadn't - in particular, there was a guy I'd had a crush on since I arrived in Seattle. He is, or used to be, one of the go-go boys in the club, and we had on many occasions exchanged suggestive glances and smiles. It was a Saturday night and we did all these gestures again. Then the party was over and everyone started filing out of the club. When I finally got my jacket from coat check and got out, this guy was standing there outside by himself. I don't recall if he smiled at me or not, but I went up to him and said "I like you very much", and to prove my point I gave him a kiss on the lips. He didn't resist, in fact he got into it, and then it turned out he'd had a crush on me too, and had wondered if I'd ever do anything. I was beside myself that night. I remember in my drunken euphoria, as I was stumbling into the walls of my apartment while trying to change into dry clothes for the next club, I was uttering prayers - something like "God, please don't let me screw up this one". I was all smiles when I went to work the following Monday.
In fact we had a chance to hang out on the Sunday of that week, and got to know each other better. I was surprised at how many similarities there were between our tastes, favorite things and even life stories. This were looking up. I was trying to guard my enthusiasm. I'm usually the one guilty of getting overexcited about a future prospect. I tend to rush things to happen. I think it's the invisible clock whose presence I've been feeling the past couple of years, this pressing feeling that "life is short" and everything has to happen right now or it may never have a chance to happen. Either way, I resolved to abandon my ways and approach this one like an adult, or at least like what an adult was supposed to act like according to many movies, friends, and word of mouth. I was just taking it easy.
Then the next week we agreed to watch some movies at my place and cuddle. I think it was a Sunday again. And the days leading up to that Sunday were perhaps some of the most embarrassing, nerve-wracking days I'd had in the recent past. All the uncertainties, negative self-perceptions and fears that had been dormant somewhere in the depths of my mind sprang up into full wakefulness, causing me to feel like the ugly swan's best friend - fat, boring, unworthy of attention, unlovable. I guess I felt threatened by this guy's self-confidence, the ease with which he seemed to display his body in public, the air he had of someone who can get whatever he wants, as he later said in words. He told me stories of the people who were, or had been after him. He told me how people were jealous of him and talked behind his back. He told me other things that made me feel like just another one of those seemingly endless members of his fanclub, I felt little and unimportant and a temporary distraction. Prior to his coming to my place, I had literally scrubbed the apartment squeaky clean - I hadn't myself seen it like that since 2008. But I just felt so ashamed of how my apartment looked and what he'd think of it, that I lost some sleep over making it pretty and spotless.
But I guess all of that had to happen, because at the end of it I was so emotionally exhausted that things just went into their right places in my head, and I realized how stupid, childish and self-destructive these thoughts were. I woke up, as if from a deep sleep, to realize that I was the kind of guy most people would be happy to have, and one that can offer a lot and be a lot for the other. It was refreshing and overnight my outlook changed to the point that I felt great calmness and clarity fall upon me. I realized that there was a disconnect between me and this guy, something that I can't really place but I can mostly easily explain as this: you know when there is shared interest between you and another person, you know the feeling that even when you're not talking the other person is thinking of you, you know how the two of you make little gestures to show the other "I'm still interested". I wasn't getting that signal, that feeling. So things ended in my mind, maybe about a week or two ago. Since then, said boy has sent me a few text messages, something to the effect "I wanna hang out with you" but then I respond and he doesn't say anything, it's this weird communication thing that I seem to have had with everyone before him.
Right now, I'm in bed with a nice book , thinking whether to venture out in the sunny day again, or go to the gym, or just chat and listen to music, or finally do the dishes. I would, however, appreciate a bit of that old-school romance, where I have to do less guesswork, when fewer things happen over text messages, and when it's clear if the person in front of you really likes you or not. Maybe I'm asking for too much but oh well, I always have :) Otherwise I wouldn't be here writing this blog entry.
Work-wise, things have been going well - my mid-year review which was completed sometime in February was very positive, my manager calling me a "real asset" and "boon" for Microsoft, also going as far as to say "I'm proud and pleased to be your colleague". All of this was, frankly, unexpected, because I never thought the job I was doing was all that. My job is to fix bugs in several areas of Windows, and an easy measure of performance is the number of bugs fixed over a certain period. This is, of course, relative, because some bugs are harder to fix than others. However, I always felt a little self-conscious because my bug count was lower compared to the average for my team. Nevertheless, my manager was more willing to look at the fact that they were also hard, tricky bugs which didn't always lend themselves nicely to the techniques we employ for solving problems. All in all, I was a winner, and I could breathe again.
I was also given a software project to work on, which brought me back a little to college days when we'd have a software assignment, only this time I was flying solo and there was no class to prepare me for the task. It is an interesting project (the details of which I don't wanna go into), but I had to learn a lot of new technologies and source code to even start doing something useful. In a way, it reminded me of my thesis, where I didn't start writing until the latter half of my second (and last) term of thesis research, simply because the area had been completely unknown to me prior to embarking on the project. I almost feel that it's always going to be like that for me in computer-related fields: there is simply too much to grasp by a simple human being, and frankly I don't spend much of my time outside of work dealing with computers. (Which will be expanded on in a different post)
As far as love life goes, I had taken a hiatus from dating after Korian, because I was emotionally tired and needed some time to recollect my thoughts; and also because now, unlike any other time in my life, I was willing to wait to find the right person. I have made in my life choices based on loneliness, and they have rarely had good outcomes, so I vowed to not do it again. Indeed, for about 3 months after I officially "broke up" with Korian, I didn't date anyone. There was this one guy I met in the club in (I think) late January, who seemed to me like a good dancer, and he was also cute, so I demonstrated my interest. After some ambiguous back-and-forth I got bored and decided to leave the club, and surprisingly he followed me. He drove me to my place, and we parted after a few sweet kisses and promises to hang out. These promises never materialized, and I lost interest soon thereafter.
Then in March I started going again to the club which had thrown me out for 6 months. Yes, indeed, I respected the 6-month ban, and I hadn't set foot there since October. I remember the very first time I went there in March - I was very very nervous and tried to keep a low profile, usually stuck in the thickest crowd of people so as to be less noticeable. I was so preoccupied with that that I forgot to have fun. But over time my concerns dissipated, mostly due to the fact that the guards either didn't recognize me anymore, or didn't care anymore - both ways it was good for me :) I was very glad, because this is the only club near where I live which plays my kind of music. It had been somewhat of an ordeal going to the other clubs and grooving to hours of trashy dance and Euro disco music.
Some things had changed in the club, but some hadn't - in particular, there was a guy I'd had a crush on since I arrived in Seattle. He is, or used to be, one of the go-go boys in the club, and we had on many occasions exchanged suggestive glances and smiles. It was a Saturday night and we did all these gestures again. Then the party was over and everyone started filing out of the club. When I finally got my jacket from coat check and got out, this guy was standing there outside by himself. I don't recall if he smiled at me or not, but I went up to him and said "I like you very much", and to prove my point I gave him a kiss on the lips. He didn't resist, in fact he got into it, and then it turned out he'd had a crush on me too, and had wondered if I'd ever do anything. I was beside myself that night. I remember in my drunken euphoria, as I was stumbling into the walls of my apartment while trying to change into dry clothes for the next club, I was uttering prayers - something like "God, please don't let me screw up this one". I was all smiles when I went to work the following Monday.
In fact we had a chance to hang out on the Sunday of that week, and got to know each other better. I was surprised at how many similarities there were between our tastes, favorite things and even life stories. This were looking up. I was trying to guard my enthusiasm. I'm usually the one guilty of getting overexcited about a future prospect. I tend to rush things to happen. I think it's the invisible clock whose presence I've been feeling the past couple of years, this pressing feeling that "life is short" and everything has to happen right now or it may never have a chance to happen. Either way, I resolved to abandon my ways and approach this one like an adult, or at least like what an adult was supposed to act like according to many movies, friends, and word of mouth. I was just taking it easy.
Then the next week we agreed to watch some movies at my place and cuddle. I think it was a Sunday again. And the days leading up to that Sunday were perhaps some of the most embarrassing, nerve-wracking days I'd had in the recent past. All the uncertainties, negative self-perceptions and fears that had been dormant somewhere in the depths of my mind sprang up into full wakefulness, causing me to feel like the ugly swan's best friend - fat, boring, unworthy of attention, unlovable. I guess I felt threatened by this guy's self-confidence, the ease with which he seemed to display his body in public, the air he had of someone who can get whatever he wants, as he later said in words. He told me stories of the people who were, or had been after him. He told me how people were jealous of him and talked behind his back. He told me other things that made me feel like just another one of those seemingly endless members of his fanclub, I felt little and unimportant and a temporary distraction. Prior to his coming to my place, I had literally scrubbed the apartment squeaky clean - I hadn't myself seen it like that since 2008. But I just felt so ashamed of how my apartment looked and what he'd think of it, that I lost some sleep over making it pretty and spotless.
But I guess all of that had to happen, because at the end of it I was so emotionally exhausted that things just went into their right places in my head, and I realized how stupid, childish and self-destructive these thoughts were. I woke up, as if from a deep sleep, to realize that I was the kind of guy most people would be happy to have, and one that can offer a lot and be a lot for the other. It was refreshing and overnight my outlook changed to the point that I felt great calmness and clarity fall upon me. I realized that there was a disconnect between me and this guy, something that I can't really place but I can mostly easily explain as this: you know when there is shared interest between you and another person, you know the feeling that even when you're not talking the other person is thinking of you, you know how the two of you make little gestures to show the other "I'm still interested". I wasn't getting that signal, that feeling. So things ended in my mind, maybe about a week or two ago. Since then, said boy has sent me a few text messages, something to the effect "I wanna hang out with you" but then I respond and he doesn't say anything, it's this weird communication thing that I seem to have had with everyone before him.
Right now, I'm in bed with a nice book , thinking whether to venture out in the sunny day again, or go to the gym, or just chat and listen to music, or finally do the dishes. I would, however, appreciate a bit of that old-school romance, where I have to do less guesswork, when fewer things happen over text messages, and when it's clear if the person in front of you really likes you or not. Maybe I'm asking for too much but oh well, I always have :) Otherwise I wouldn't be here writing this blog entry.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Winter Break, et cetera
Dear diary,
It's 2:04am on a Saturday night, and I, being a lame old man, find that there is nothing more exhilarating to do than to update my stupid blahg. But truth be told, I felt too lazy to shave, pick slutty clothes, put them on and walk aaaaall the way to the club (which is 3 blocks away), dance to the same songs I danced to last night and see the same people I saw last night.
But I digress, I was going to tell the fabulous story about my winter break in Bulgaria. As I indicated in my last Facebook note (which really should have been an entry in here), there were some interesting aspects of my getting there. But eventually I did, and I arrived with the same flight to Varna as a guy from Paris who, just like me, had been stranded there for a day. My mom met me at the airport, and politely used my interpreter skills to explain to the young Parisian gentleman that no, in fact it's not a good idea to take one of the cabs waiting right outside the terminal exit. There are some aspects of Bulgarian cab services that would require their own blog entry.
So she called us two cabs, one for me and her and one for the guy, since he had to get to some hotel on Golden Sands. He gave me his name and asked me to find him on Facebook, so we could maybe hang out in the city while we were both there. I tried but his profile was not available to everyone on Facebook, so we never really met. I still hope that didn't make too bad of an impression.
Since I got to Bulgaria on December 23, I had to do all my Christmas shopping on the 24th. I'm pretty convinced that confession would bring a heart attack to most American families, but I had no choice. Seattle was ice-bound right before I left so I didn't want to break my backbone while searching for an extravagant coffee cup gift. I was hoping I would arrive in Sofia on the 22nd, but that didn't happen either. So I was stuck with the Day Before Christmas. We decided to buy a microwave for the house as a family gift, plus a little something for everyone to feel a bit spoiled. I had withdrawn 400 Bulgarian leva from an ATM as I thought that was the transaction limit.
Later that night my mom and I decided to hit the stores. Having worked at Microsoft for several months now, I had something in my credit card and I wanted to show off a bit, so we went to a somewhat pricy jeans store, and I told my mom to choose whatever she wants. I myself picked three post-modernist pairs of jeans, and a couple of half-dressy, half-yes-I-will-fuck-you shirts, and combined we had a bill of about 800 leva. I went to the nearest ATM, and guess what! The 400 leva limit was not per transaction, but per day. Needless to say that was embarrassing, but we had enough money to buy half the shit, and the other half I paid for the next day. The moral - thou shalt not be boastful, or something.
All the while, I was thinking how I was going to surprise the guy I was dating at the time with my new outfits. I knew he liked how I look in black, so one of the shirts was an insanely hot black shirt. However, as it happened, he never wrote or call me the whole break, and I broke up with him shortly after my return to the New Continent. But that's besides the point.
What's really fun and bonkers is that 2 days later, I got sick. Really sick. I proceeded to get sicker the entire frickin' break, and I missed all there was to miss - my HS class reunion, my friends' reunion, nights out with folks I had been planning on for a while. What made it worse is that we don't really happen to be in Varna at the same time anymore - a lot of the people I know, just like me, went somewhere around the world, or are at least always in transit, so it's hard to arrange for all of us to be there at the same time. This vacation was one of those times, so I was, well, fucked (and not even the good way).
But my ailment deserves a special mention - I was sick with tonsilitis. Nothing weird so far, but my tonsils were actually removed when I was 4.5 years old, or so the doctors said. But as it happens, 18 years later, I discovered that yes, I do have tonsils (or fractions thereof) which are sufficient to get me sick. I remember arguing with the doctor who was shining a flashlight at my throat, and then with the second doctor who also gave it a try, and then their astonished looks as both of them concluded that either I was absolutely insane, or they were absolutely blind.
I got better right when I had to leave, so there isn't much more to say really. The one week that I was sick was really awful - I hadn't been so sick in many years. But I couldn't even be sick in private - my mom and grandma, who hadn't see me sick since before I left Bulgaria in 2004, really panicked and made sure they gave me their constant, undivided, forceful yet loving, and helpful yet utterly annoying, attention. But perhaps that only made me get better faster :)
Then I came to the US and ended my love life, and started focusing rather on my work and hobbies. It's been a nice break, and I learned a lot about what I need, want, and can accept. Now that we have mid-year performance reviews at MSFT, things are looking good and I'm looking optimistic about what the new year is going to bring me.
Hasta la vista!
It's 2:04am on a Saturday night, and I, being a lame old man, find that there is nothing more exhilarating to do than to update my stupid blahg. But truth be told, I felt too lazy to shave, pick slutty clothes, put them on and walk aaaaall the way to the club (which is 3 blocks away), dance to the same songs I danced to last night and see the same people I saw last night.
But I digress, I was going to tell the fabulous story about my winter break in Bulgaria. As I indicated in my last Facebook note (which really should have been an entry in here), there were some interesting aspects of my getting there. But eventually I did, and I arrived with the same flight to Varna as a guy from Paris who, just like me, had been stranded there for a day. My mom met me at the airport, and politely used my interpreter skills to explain to the young Parisian gentleman that no, in fact it's not a good idea to take one of the cabs waiting right outside the terminal exit. There are some aspects of Bulgarian cab services that would require their own blog entry.
So she called us two cabs, one for me and her and one for the guy, since he had to get to some hotel on Golden Sands. He gave me his name and asked me to find him on Facebook, so we could maybe hang out in the city while we were both there. I tried but his profile was not available to everyone on Facebook, so we never really met. I still hope that didn't make too bad of an impression.
Since I got to Bulgaria on December 23, I had to do all my Christmas shopping on the 24th. I'm pretty convinced that confession would bring a heart attack to most American families, but I had no choice. Seattle was ice-bound right before I left so I didn't want to break my backbone while searching for an extravagant coffee cup gift. I was hoping I would arrive in Sofia on the 22nd, but that didn't happen either. So I was stuck with the Day Before Christmas. We decided to buy a microwave for the house as a family gift, plus a little something for everyone to feel a bit spoiled. I had withdrawn 400 Bulgarian leva from an ATM as I thought that was the transaction limit.
Later that night my mom and I decided to hit the stores. Having worked at Microsoft for several months now, I had something in my credit card and I wanted to show off a bit, so we went to a somewhat pricy jeans store, and I told my mom to choose whatever she wants. I myself picked three post-modernist pairs of jeans, and a couple of half-dressy, half-yes-I-will-fuck-you shirts, and combined we had a bill of about 800 leva. I went to the nearest ATM, and guess what! The 400 leva limit was not per transaction, but per day. Needless to say that was embarrassing, but we had enough money to buy half the shit, and the other half I paid for the next day. The moral - thou shalt not be boastful, or something.
All the while, I was thinking how I was going to surprise the guy I was dating at the time with my new outfits. I knew he liked how I look in black, so one of the shirts was an insanely hot black shirt. However, as it happened, he never wrote or call me the whole break, and I broke up with him shortly after my return to the New Continent. But that's besides the point.
What's really fun and bonkers is that 2 days later, I got sick. Really sick. I proceeded to get sicker the entire frickin' break, and I missed all there was to miss - my HS class reunion, my friends' reunion, nights out with folks I had been planning on for a while. What made it worse is that we don't really happen to be in Varna at the same time anymore - a lot of the people I know, just like me, went somewhere around the world, or are at least always in transit, so it's hard to arrange for all of us to be there at the same time. This vacation was one of those times, so I was, well, fucked (and not even the good way).
But my ailment deserves a special mention - I was sick with tonsilitis. Nothing weird so far, but my tonsils were actually removed when I was 4.5 years old, or so the doctors said. But as it happens, 18 years later, I discovered that yes, I do have tonsils (or fractions thereof) which are sufficient to get me sick. I remember arguing with the doctor who was shining a flashlight at my throat, and then with the second doctor who also gave it a try, and then their astonished looks as both of them concluded that either I was absolutely insane, or they were absolutely blind.
I got better right when I had to leave, so there isn't much more to say really. The one week that I was sick was really awful - I hadn't been so sick in many years. But I couldn't even be sick in private - my mom and grandma, who hadn't see me sick since before I left Bulgaria in 2004, really panicked and made sure they gave me their constant, undivided, forceful yet loving, and helpful yet utterly annoying, attention. But perhaps that only made me get better faster :)
Then I came to the US and ended my love life, and started focusing rather on my work and hobbies. It's been a nice break, and I learned a lot about what I need, want, and can accept. Now that we have mid-year performance reviews at MSFT, things are looking good and I'm looking optimistic about what the new year is going to bring me.
Hasta la vista!
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Thoughts on Race
As your typical foreigner, I didn't use to care much about the presidential elections in the US. However, the upcoming elections have been at the forefront of my attention for some time now, because I think we're close to a historic moment for this country, and its people.
I really want Obama to win. I really, really want that to happen. Not only because McCain is Republican and subscribes to their backward ideas such as banning gay marriage and virtually illegitimizing abortion; not only because Obama is younger, more energetic, more well-spoken and less repetitive in his messages to the US people; in summary, not only because Obama is far more convincing as a president of a 21-cetury United States. But also because this is a pivotal moment for the American racial model. I believe, and others I've talked to share the view, that electing Obama president of the US would be a huge win for the United States, both domestically as well as in terms of their image in front of the world. This country, which has such a horrible history of repressing its Black population, would show in a way that's harder to contest that things have changed, and would continue changing for the better.
Conversely, a victory for McCain to me would signify that most of what people consider core American values - democracy, equality, pluralism - are no more than a sham. It seems absurd to me that we could elect, in the 21 century, a president from a party that has missed the past few centuries, throughout which there has been a separation of church and state. I myself am a devout Christian, so I'm not speaking out of my ass. I would seriously reconsider staying in the US if McCain wins this election. His running mate, our beloved Mrs. Palin, is against most of who I am - gay and a foreigner. I guess my redeeming qualities are that I'm white and a male, which is just about as bad.
On a different, but tangentially related note, I've been feeling a little weird lately. I've been reading James Baldwin, who is a renowned American writer whose major themes are racism and homophobia, in particular in mid-20th century US. His writing has been a kind of shock for me, because it is one thing to know racism exists "out there", as a vague shapeless notion, and it's totally different to see it in excruciating, painful detail through the eyes of someone who experienced it in his life. The more I'm reading his book the more I want to put it down and cry for hours and hours, because not a single cell in my body can comprehend, or fail to be enraged by, the utter senselessness and violence of racism. I keep thinking whether I would be able to recover from the blows the characters took, whether my family would endure what the families in the book endured.
But what's really scary is that I see myself in this book through different, piercingly judging eyes. And what's more, I realize that this horrible image of me is very well justified, very much deserved. Suddenly being white has become a liability for me, just like being gay, because I know that there are many people out there that, even if they don't know me, would dislike me for who I am. But, whereas the former is an irrational hatred, the latter is very rationalized, it has a real reason. I know that I'm not American, I know that my country never took slaves regardless of color, I know that I am everything BUT racist, but I have been feeling ashamed, so deeply ashamed of my color. My aching question after reading all this, my burning question that might probably redeem me, and give me the cheap peace of mind I really need right now, is - is it different now? Do I really look like that to people of color? Is this really who they think I am and how I view them?
I like black men. It is a topic for a different blog post, suffice it to say it's not just a fetish I have. I have dated black men, and will continue to, hopefully, but now that I'm aware of my color, I've been thinking - how would that influence my hypothetical future relationship? Where/when would I be welcome/unwelcome in his life? What would be the burden on him that he has a white boyfriend? I walk in the streets of Seattle and I see white and black folks mingle and walk hand in hand, and I want to think that the nightmare is over, but I'm still not convinced. I've been unable, for a couple of weeks now, to look at black people in the eyes - I was so awkward when this cutie chatted me up in the campus shuttle the other day. Fortunately I was able to conjure up my gift of speech and we clicked nicely. But I don't know yet what it would take for me to go back to normal. And maybe I shouldn't?
I wish someone could answer my questions...
I really want Obama to win. I really, really want that to happen. Not only because McCain is Republican and subscribes to their backward ideas such as banning gay marriage and virtually illegitimizing abortion; not only because Obama is younger, more energetic, more well-spoken and less repetitive in his messages to the US people; in summary, not only because Obama is far more convincing as a president of a 21-cetury United States. But also because this is a pivotal moment for the American racial model. I believe, and others I've talked to share the view, that electing Obama president of the US would be a huge win for the United States, both domestically as well as in terms of their image in front of the world. This country, which has such a horrible history of repressing its Black population, would show in a way that's harder to contest that things have changed, and would continue changing for the better.
Conversely, a victory for McCain to me would signify that most of what people consider core American values - democracy, equality, pluralism - are no more than a sham. It seems absurd to me that we could elect, in the 21 century, a president from a party that has missed the past few centuries, throughout which there has been a separation of church and state. I myself am a devout Christian, so I'm not speaking out of my ass. I would seriously reconsider staying in the US if McCain wins this election. His running mate, our beloved Mrs. Palin, is against most of who I am - gay and a foreigner. I guess my redeeming qualities are that I'm white and a male, which is just about as bad.
On a different, but tangentially related note, I've been feeling a little weird lately. I've been reading James Baldwin, who is a renowned American writer whose major themes are racism and homophobia, in particular in mid-20th century US. His writing has been a kind of shock for me, because it is one thing to know racism exists "out there", as a vague shapeless notion, and it's totally different to see it in excruciating, painful detail through the eyes of someone who experienced it in his life. The more I'm reading his book the more I want to put it down and cry for hours and hours, because not a single cell in my body can comprehend, or fail to be enraged by, the utter senselessness and violence of racism. I keep thinking whether I would be able to recover from the blows the characters took, whether my family would endure what the families in the book endured.
But what's really scary is that I see myself in this book through different, piercingly judging eyes. And what's more, I realize that this horrible image of me is very well justified, very much deserved. Suddenly being white has become a liability for me, just like being gay, because I know that there are many people out there that, even if they don't know me, would dislike me for who I am. But, whereas the former is an irrational hatred, the latter is very rationalized, it has a real reason. I know that I'm not American, I know that my country never took slaves regardless of color, I know that I am everything BUT racist, but I have been feeling ashamed, so deeply ashamed of my color. My aching question after reading all this, my burning question that might probably redeem me, and give me the cheap peace of mind I really need right now, is - is it different now? Do I really look like that to people of color? Is this really who they think I am and how I view them?
I like black men. It is a topic for a different blog post, suffice it to say it's not just a fetish I have. I have dated black men, and will continue to, hopefully, but now that I'm aware of my color, I've been thinking - how would that influence my hypothetical future relationship? Where/when would I be welcome/unwelcome in his life? What would be the burden on him that he has a white boyfriend? I walk in the streets of Seattle and I see white and black folks mingle and walk hand in hand, and I want to think that the nightmare is over, but I'm still not convinced. I've been unable, for a couple of weeks now, to look at black people in the eyes - I was so awkward when this cutie chatted me up in the campus shuttle the other day. Fortunately I was able to conjure up my gift of speech and we clicked nicely. But I don't know yet what it would take for me to go back to normal. And maybe I shouldn't?
I wish someone could answer my questions...
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Homecoming and other news
Last weekend was Homecoming weekend at Dartmouth College, and I decided to go. I wasn't sure whether I was going until the Monday of that week, which probably explains the cost of my plane ticket :)
Homecoming, overall, was a really, really sweet experience. I was missing my closest people, and it felt really good to be spending time with them again. It felt as if I had never left the place - the frats were the same, I tied my jacket by the sleeves at my usual spot on the staircase railing, then we danced at our usual spot by the speakers in Tri Kap, then we left for Chi Gam to find out, unsurprisingly, that it's impossibly packed, then we went past Novak to get some water after we'd shed pounds and pounds on the dance floor. I even had a crush on the same guy as during senior year :) Even my friend's boyfriend drama was the same, as it rolled out on the same tables in Food Court.
Some things were also different though - I now saw a lot of unfamiliar faces, quite probably from the Class of 2012, which to me is just another mystery with a sci-fi twang to it (I mean 2012, she-it). The campus's reaction to the new freshman class was mixed, as it always is, and all that reminded me of the things that used to occupy my mind and time when I was in college. That was another difference - I felt much freer and much more relaxed than I ever was as a student. Not being tied to the place anymore, knowing that I'm not stuck there forever, knowing what's there for me outside the campus boundaries made the experience really pleasant, and blanketed out everything that had used to make me nervous/anxious/discontented in this place. It was an idealized fairy tale. But really the only space I occupied for sure was the company of my closest, and God had I been needing it. It irked me that some of those closest apparently didn't understand our time together was limited, and it might have been a better idea to agree on a truce in their personal wars and focus on us, but then again the time was little for that kind of arguments.
In essence, Homecoming was, indeed, coming home. Home is never a problem-free place, but once you have been away for a while, you tend to forget the bad and focus on the good. It is funny that I should feel this way at a place which is so far, still, and in many ways, from my original home. Note I'm not saying "real" - because what I call "my home" has now become a fascinating, monstrous conglomerate spanning two continents and two coasts, and two cultures and languages. I was talking today to someone about the fear one feels from crossing the bridge to a new life, at a new place, with new people. I have known this fear all to well, twice now, and sometimes I catch myself thinking whether it has impaired my ability to relate to people - I can still make friends easily, but I'm more afraid to let anyone close, because who knows for how long they are going to be around before we have to say our "goodbyes". I now understand the movies where the child is indignant that his/her parents are moving yet again.
However, each big move has given me more than I could put down in this blog. In some aspects, my 3 months in Seattle have let me experience more things than the 4 years at Dartmouth. I'm slowly growing into my own, becoming more and more defined as "me", and appreciating what that "me" stands for. I'm looking younger than my freshman year in college, there is so much less on my mind, it's a wonderful ride. Then again there are the losses - and I saw that at Dartmouth: a lot of people I knew and met embraced me and were as happy to see me as I was to see them; but there were probably as many who only approached me perfunctorily, as if all our past history had been bumping into each other in the store. We were all kind of like people talking while waiting to get off the bus - the rushed, seemingly friendly, but ultimately detached conversations, the very tangible sense of transience. I'm happy a weekend only has two days :)
In other news, I have discovered a liking for Danity Kane - in particular, this song:
and this song:
In still other news, after about a month of break, I finally had a hot date over the weekend. I was starting to get all gloomy and moody, as it usually happens when you've been out of physical contact for a while, and now I'm back to cheerful :) And, this time I have no expectations, so I'm just enjoying things for what they are.
Hope y'all are well! MWAH
Homecoming, overall, was a really, really sweet experience. I was missing my closest people, and it felt really good to be spending time with them again. It felt as if I had never left the place - the frats were the same, I tied my jacket by the sleeves at my usual spot on the staircase railing, then we danced at our usual spot by the speakers in Tri Kap, then we left for Chi Gam to find out, unsurprisingly, that it's impossibly packed, then we went past Novak to get some water after we'd shed pounds and pounds on the dance floor. I even had a crush on the same guy as during senior year :) Even my friend's boyfriend drama was the same, as it rolled out on the same tables in Food Court.
Some things were also different though - I now saw a lot of unfamiliar faces, quite probably from the Class of 2012, which to me is just another mystery with a sci-fi twang to it (I mean 2012, she-it). The campus's reaction to the new freshman class was mixed, as it always is, and all that reminded me of the things that used to occupy my mind and time when I was in college. That was another difference - I felt much freer and much more relaxed than I ever was as a student. Not being tied to the place anymore, knowing that I'm not stuck there forever, knowing what's there for me outside the campus boundaries made the experience really pleasant, and blanketed out everything that had used to make me nervous/anxious/discontented in this place. It was an idealized fairy tale. But really the only space I occupied for sure was the company of my closest, and God had I been needing it. It irked me that some of those closest apparently didn't understand our time together was limited, and it might have been a better idea to agree on a truce in their personal wars and focus on us, but then again the time was little for that kind of arguments.
In essence, Homecoming was, indeed, coming home. Home is never a problem-free place, but once you have been away for a while, you tend to forget the bad and focus on the good. It is funny that I should feel this way at a place which is so far, still, and in many ways, from my original home. Note I'm not saying "real" - because what I call "my home" has now become a fascinating, monstrous conglomerate spanning two continents and two coasts, and two cultures and languages. I was talking today to someone about the fear one feels from crossing the bridge to a new life, at a new place, with new people. I have known this fear all to well, twice now, and sometimes I catch myself thinking whether it has impaired my ability to relate to people - I can still make friends easily, but I'm more afraid to let anyone close, because who knows for how long they are going to be around before we have to say our "goodbyes". I now understand the movies where the child is indignant that his/her parents are moving yet again.
However, each big move has given me more than I could put down in this blog. In some aspects, my 3 months in Seattle have let me experience more things than the 4 years at Dartmouth. I'm slowly growing into my own, becoming more and more defined as "me", and appreciating what that "me" stands for. I'm looking younger than my freshman year in college, there is so much less on my mind, it's a wonderful ride. Then again there are the losses - and I saw that at Dartmouth: a lot of people I knew and met embraced me and were as happy to see me as I was to see them; but there were probably as many who only approached me perfunctorily, as if all our past history had been bumping into each other in the store. We were all kind of like people talking while waiting to get off the bus - the rushed, seemingly friendly, but ultimately detached conversations, the very tangible sense of transience. I'm happy a weekend only has two days :)
In other news, I have discovered a liking for Danity Kane - in particular, this song:
and this song:
In still other news, after about a month of break, I finally had a hot date over the weekend. I was starting to get all gloomy and moody, as it usually happens when you've been out of physical contact for a while, and now I'm back to cheerful :) And, this time I have no expectations, so I'm just enjoying things for what they are.
Hope y'all are well! MWAH
Friday, October 3, 2008
Google Didn't Have a Clue, or Gay, Bulgarian and in the US
There isn't exactly much to say about what I'm going to say. But I think the little there is is important, because even Google seems to be poorly informed about it.
As you may know, I am a Bulgarian gay man in the United States. I have never given it much of a thought, or tried to ponder what it "means", because it never seemed like something out of the ordinary to me. The fact that I'm Bulgarian, much like the fact I'm gay are things I was born with and a part of who I am, so I didn't think they deserved any "special treatment".
However, you add the adverbial modifier "in the United States" and things become a little interesting. As a computer geek I'm good with online search, and I spent quite some time trying to find information on Google about Bulgarian gay guys in the States. Guess what - all of my searches failed - they pointed me to the gay societies in Bulgaria, news on Bulgarian legislation about gays, spicy details about the Bulgarian gay nightlife, and even spicier pictures of allegedly Bulgarian gay models (except they have names like Piotr and Malek, which are SO distinctly Bulgarian it makes me shiver).
Then I resorted to a weapon I had't used since my early college years - preying for gay guys on Facebook. But this time, in addition to specifying "Male, interested in Men" I also added "from Bulgaria". Yeah, I know - I'm only searching in the Seattle, Dartmouth, and Microsoft networks, but it is still telling I got no results.
So it seems that, for all intensive purposes, we don't exist :) However, since I'm proof to the contrary, it is interesting to think how many others like me are there, not having anyone exactly in their shoes to talk to about what it means to them, and how it has affected their lives and relationships with others. I have few stories of my own to tell, but there is one stereotype I have seen over and over again - in the States it is expected that all Bulgarian men are straight.
Once I was talking to a friend on the phone, and when we were done she didn't hang up the phone correctly, so I could still hear her talk in her room. She is Bulgarian and apparently had some Bulgarian friends over. When they asked who she was talking to, she explained it was so-and-so "and oh, he's gay". The other Bulgarians sounded quite surprised and asked her a few times if she was quite sure.
College was different, yet not. It was different, because I met Niki and Alex, my fabulous Bulgarian girlfriends, who not only didn't take an issue with me being gay, but actually helped me come to terms with it and feel comfortable with myself. The guys, however, while being friendly (as all Bulgarians in the US are supposed to be to each other), never really quite accepted it, or talked about it. I was even expected, on several occasions, to "bring some hot chicks" with me to the party. And I usually did, although for different reasons :)
On a more positive note, it seems like my American counterparts go nuts (no pun intended) about foreign guys, or guys with accents, or some mixture thereof. When I say I'm Bulgarian it instantly wins me some cute points, and I have grown to appreciate my motherland in a whole new way :)
So yeah, so far I have only my experiences to draw on when I talk about what it is to be Bulgarian, and gay, in the US. Of course, everybody goes through life in their own way, but I do admit I would have liked to know how it is for people on a similar path to mine.
As you may know, I am a Bulgarian gay man in the United States. I have never given it much of a thought, or tried to ponder what it "means", because it never seemed like something out of the ordinary to me. The fact that I'm Bulgarian, much like the fact I'm gay are things I was born with and a part of who I am, so I didn't think they deserved any "special treatment".
However, you add the adverbial modifier "in the United States" and things become a little interesting. As a computer geek I'm good with online search, and I spent quite some time trying to find information on Google about Bulgarian gay guys in the States. Guess what - all of my searches failed - they pointed me to the gay societies in Bulgaria, news on Bulgarian legislation about gays, spicy details about the Bulgarian gay nightlife, and even spicier pictures of allegedly Bulgarian gay models (except they have names like Piotr and Malek, which are SO distinctly Bulgarian it makes me shiver).
Then I resorted to a weapon I had't used since my early college years - preying for gay guys on Facebook. But this time, in addition to specifying "Male, interested in Men" I also added "from Bulgaria". Yeah, I know - I'm only searching in the Seattle, Dartmouth, and Microsoft networks, but it is still telling I got no results.
So it seems that, for all intensive purposes, we don't exist :) However, since I'm proof to the contrary, it is interesting to think how many others like me are there, not having anyone exactly in their shoes to talk to about what it means to them, and how it has affected their lives and relationships with others. I have few stories of my own to tell, but there is one stereotype I have seen over and over again - in the States it is expected that all Bulgarian men are straight.
Once I was talking to a friend on the phone, and when we were done she didn't hang up the phone correctly, so I could still hear her talk in her room. She is Bulgarian and apparently had some Bulgarian friends over. When they asked who she was talking to, she explained it was so-and-so "and oh, he's gay". The other Bulgarians sounded quite surprised and asked her a few times if she was quite sure.
College was different, yet not. It was different, because I met Niki and Alex, my fabulous Bulgarian girlfriends, who not only didn't take an issue with me being gay, but actually helped me come to terms with it and feel comfortable with myself. The guys, however, while being friendly (as all Bulgarians in the US are supposed to be to each other), never really quite accepted it, or talked about it. I was even expected, on several occasions, to "bring some hot chicks" with me to the party. And I usually did, although for different reasons :)
On a more positive note, it seems like my American counterparts go nuts (no pun intended) about foreign guys, or guys with accents, or some mixture thereof. When I say I'm Bulgarian it instantly wins me some cute points, and I have grown to appreciate my motherland in a whole new way :)
So yeah, so far I have only my experiences to draw on when I talk about what it is to be Bulgarian, and gay, in the US. Of course, everybody goes through life in their own way, but I do admit I would have liked to know how it is for people on a similar path to mine.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Some Crappy Poetry
As a good queen, I can travel the spectrum from vulnerable to bitchy and cold in the same day, and here is a sampling of both extremes in poetry. I wrote this on the Sunday after the Saturday Text Message Wars I wrote earlier about.
Untitled 1
Wilderness...
--- save me by your grace
--- I'm a child in the forest
--- waiting, waiting, waiting...
Tenderness...
--- save me by your face,
--- save me with your touch,
--- in the cold of the night
--- be my star and give me light
--- I've been lonely for a while...
Winter days...
--- you're so far away
--- and I am here to stay
--- just like ever and before:
--- waiting, waiting, waiting...
Untitled 2
New days
paint new skies,
and the blues goes on and on
on the old gramophone...
The search, the wait is on.
New face
paints new tears,
and the lies go on and on
till I feel I am done
and it's time to move on.
Pick your dreams
with the care of an old craftsman's hands;
treat your heart
with the care and affection of mother to child.
Don't leave it out on display
for there are many thieves
who would throw it away
in the end.
Untitled 1
Wilderness...
--- save me by your grace
--- I'm a child in the forest
--- waiting, waiting, waiting...
Tenderness...
--- save me by your face,
--- save me with your touch,
--- in the cold of the night
--- be my star and give me light
--- I've been lonely for a while...
Winter days...
--- you're so far away
--- and I am here to stay
--- just like ever and before:
--- waiting, waiting, waiting...
Untitled 2
New days
paint new skies,
and the blues goes on and on
on the old gramophone...
The search, the wait is on.
New face
paints new tears,
and the lies go on and on
till I feel I am done
and it's time to move on.
Pick your dreams
with the care of an old craftsman's hands;
treat your heart
with the care and affection of mother to child.
Don't leave it out on display
for there are many thieves
who would throw it away
in the end.
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