The War at Home...

I can't take it. I honestly can't take it anymore. I am about two steps away from an all out panic attack. My parents have ruined their lives, have ruined their marriage, have continued to be the two nastiest people to one another that I have ever seen, and they have ruined my day, week, month, year, life, and my pride. I don't want to go down with this ship, but I can't live under the penumbra of their toxicity and abuse much longer. I just don't know what to do. I am losing my hair VERY VERY rapidly, and no small part of that is thanks to living under the roof of my two parents.

This is why I don't blog. I don't want to put it all out there b/c it isn't good and it makes me look like I am the one at fault, or that I'm a complainer, or that I'm not taking steps to change, or yadda yadda yadda - and I don't want the spotlight on myself. For once, just once I would like the spotlight on the two people who - although they do the most for me, they also do the worst for me, and make my life a living hell. They may not physically raise their hands to one another or to myself, but make NO MISTAKE - I am living under a roof full of toxicity, domestic violence, and abuse. Their may not be physical abuse, but it is mental battery to the point of me basically wanting to die. I feel like I almost have no way out, and I can barely breathe. What my parents do to one another, and what they in turn do to me - I'm basically losing my life. Somewhere in there Jesse got lost, and I'm in deep pain. I'm trying so hard to be responsible and do what I have to do - to be the "good son", to finish up with school, and to get the hell out - but how in the world am I going to make it to January when every day here feels like your tomorrow is stifled and probably not even guaranteed.

It all started this afternoon. I don't know what happened, but my mom started freaking out as usual. Normally stupid dumb inconsequential things set my mother off - leaving the refrigerator open longer than 10 seconds at a time, touching something of hers, forgetting to lock the door, etc. I don't even know what set her off this time, but BOY did she go off on my dad! She said she wanted my dad to take his truck and get the fuck out. To take his business and go live with "his mommy". She said she was going to call a lawyer and get a divorce. Of course she will never do this and of course she didn't mean it, but in my opinion - once you say words like that, a marriage is over. In fact, in my head their marriage has been over for most of my life. Yet they stay together and are "there for one another" constantly. I just don't understand this relationship. My mom started playing the "Passive/Aggressive" game of the century with my Dad this afternoon. He just basically ignored her. I think the whole fight was over taking my grandma to the nursing home to visit my grandpa on a Sunday, when "their day" is Wednesdays and Saturdays. We didn't go yesterday since my sister had her boyfriend's graduation party, and we all went there instead. So - my parents got Sunday. But - noooooooo, my dad couldn't have that without having to bitch and moan about my grandma the whole time, who he effectionately refers to as "the old bat". I know this makes no sense to no one living in my house or knowing my parents, but it's violent and it hurts. My parents know EXACTLY how to push each other's buttons and to hurt one another. Instead of being there for each other they just constantly verbally sting each other and hurt, hurt, hurt. My dad is far more there for my Mom, but he is a very VERY "blue collar" kind of guy and likes to make innappropriate jokes about 24/7. My mom couldn't be more opposite of this and just can't handle it. She calls him a stupid moron, a retard, a disgusting person 24/7 in response. How they have handled this verbal tango of words and differences for 27 years I will never know, but it goes round and round and round...and only gets worse, more heightened, and more violent as time goes on. It is almost 100% due to my grandpa's illness, and I am going to say something that is going to shock everyone, but I don't care anymore, so here goes...

I wish my grandfather were dead.

That's right, I wish he were dead. Of course I don't for emotional reasons and whatnot - my grandpa has only one life, as everyone else, and of course he should live as long as he possibly can. But I don't think the state he has been in for the past year and a half is life. It's existing. And this torturous state of existing rather than living has destroyed my family. If he would have died that day he had the botched operation a year and a half ago, my family could have healed. Eventually everyone would have "gotten over it" and they would have "moved on" - but that hasn't happened at all. My family, especially on my Mother's side, is the LEAST functioning people in the world - they couldn't find the way to cope out of a cardboard box, yet alone how to deal with the long term illness of a loved one. I don't even want to call it a longterm illness, because it is so much more than that. It's the slow, gradual, snail's paced death of a non-functioning loved one, who spends most of his days asleep and when awake has no idea where he is, can barely talk, is completely paralyzed from all his limbs, has no colon/intestines, and is hooked up to all sorts of tubes for the rest of his life. Yet THIS MAN is how the day starts and how the day ends for my parents. My grandma is a complete mess and calls my mother every five seconds. My mom has basically stopped being a "wife" and has become just a "daughter" for her mom and dad. She can't cope and has gotten herself sick from time to time. I just want to cry, I'm just purging right now and probably not even making much sense. But I know for a fact that if my grandfather had died a year and a half ago my family would be MUCH, MUCH, SO INCREDIBLY MUCH HEALTHIER TODAY than they are. My mom has stopped caring about anything other than her father and mother. If you feel a second of happiness you are made to feel guilty. Just b/c her dad has essentially "stopped living", there can *GOD FORBID* be no happiness from anyone else without made to feel the guilt of the Jewish people upon you. My dad is incredibly supportive in that he will drive my mom to the hospital whenever she wants, and will drive my grandmother home (who lives well over an hour back in one direction and then the hour drive home in this direction) all the time, and spend countless thousands of dollers buying her dinner out twice a week (My grandma does NOT eat at home, and never has!). My father's business has suffered b/c of it...he is too busy catering to my mom and grandma. It's just a vicious cycle with no end in sight, b/c no matter how viciously ill my grandfather gets, his body just keeps on living, and that just keeps prolonging this familial opera of violence, suffering, and pain. I know it sounds horrible to say, but if he died everything would get so much better for everyone else. My other set of grandparents, my paternal ones are much older than my sick grandfather and depressed grandma, yet they are SO MUCH mentally happier, capable, and functioning individuals. I love them more than anyone in the world. If they got sick I couldn't even imagine how sad that would be. But at their age, they probably wouldn't survive an illness. My maternal grandfather got ill in such a way that his body can forseeably keep this situation trucking on for years and years. All I need is to survive in this household until December, when I graduate. Then it's out of this house, into the world, and GOODBYE FAMILY. But I don't know how I'll make it until then.

My parents ruined my Gay Pride Day today. I was all set to make the trip into Manhattan for Gay Pride, but once again their violence dominated the day and stole the wind out from under me. Once my mom started screaming about divorce and how much she wished my father would die and how much she hated him, etc...I just had no stomach for it. The sad part is, my younger sister reacts so much healthier than I do. If she had been home for this situation she would have ran outside of the house and gone somewhere else. Instead I took my plate of food to my bedroom, cried, and went to sleep at 4 in the afternoon. As I write this blog it is 2:00 a.m. on Monday morning and I just got up for a bit to purge the bile from within. I was sleeping, so I didn't get a chance to see my parents after they went to the hospital to visit my grandpa and take my grandma home. That's right - despite their horrible fight, of course my dad still drove my mom, you know he paid for dinner, and they did everything as they normally do. Yet WHO was the one suffering the brunt of their abuse? Me. That's right, me. I'm the "child" who got to stay home, sit in the corner after witnessing Mommy lash violently into Daddy and cry about it. I basically feel 2 inches tall and about 5 years old living here. It's not fair. Where is Jesse in all of this? Where is my own life? Where is my own masculinity? Where is my own independence? There is a world out there - and I want to see it, to breathe it, and to live it, yet I continue to sit here and suffer in violence. It's no different than getting beat. I might as well have someone whip me, chain me, and drag me across the floor - b/c that is akin physically to what is going on here emotionally. And it's not fair :( If I had $$$ I would move out in a heartbeat. My parents do a lot for me (cook, provide me with a room, have their good moments, etc...) but I can't continue to live like this, even though we all know I will. I wish I had finished up with school years ago like I was supposed to. I feel like this is all my fault - b/c of my depression and because I couldn't at the time, I am stuck here now. Not only have I lost years of my independent life, but I'm made to suffer the brunt of the abuse at home because of it. Trust me, December cannot come soon enough. But how the hell will I make it till then? B/c if my name were "Dr. Phil" I would say to myself :

"Jesse, you cannot and SHOULD NOT continue to live at home for ONE DAY LONGER, no less for six months longer! You may be your parents son, but that does NOT mean that you are indebted to live with them for the rest of your life! You have served your time, and then some. There is a whole entire world out there of people waiting for you. Opportunity exists. There is a world out there that, although incredibly tough, provides the chance for freedom, for independence, and for happiness. You don't have that chance while living at home. You are being abused, and you are FAR better than that! You are not a doormat, your role in life is not to continually watch your parents walk all over each other, and in turn, walk all over you. You deserve your own life, and you deserve the freedom to pursue your own happiness. Go. Do. Be."

Unfortunately, I am not Dr. Phil, and don't quite have that strength yet. Yet I know it internally to be true. I need to graduate so I can get a good job and $$$ so that I can get as humanly far away from here as possible. Listen - I am not the first gay man ever to have an overly aggressive and dominating mother and a passive father, but it is SO MUCH MORE than that with my parents. The umbrella I am living under is full of toxicity, and it is quite honestly starting to kill me. It has been for a long time. But I am only 25 years old and deserve my own life. Lord knows my parents had their own lives at my age and didn't have to deal with this situation. My Gay Pride day was ruined, and that is something I can never get back. I have a hard enough time living here, and all I wanted to do was have some pride and go make some gay friends today. Instead I cried, sat and ate in solitary, and went to bed at 4 in the afternoon. Those words my mother spoke to my father - although I'm sure that all will be "peachy" with them in the morning, you can't take those words back, and you sure as HELL can't take those words back to me. I will remember, oh yes, I will remember. I don't know what that means exactly, but I won't forget, that is for sure. My parents have the ability to fight like tornados one second and completely forgive one another the next second. I am stuck being "FEMA" and cleaning up the longterm damage. That isn't fair, and that is my role in this household. I didn't vote to be FEMA, I didn't vote to be The Red Cross, and yet that's me - stuck here living as a refugee and having to deal with what is left over from the latest Category 5 storm that my parents have blown across my path with.

I swear to god, I just have no idea what to do anymore... :(

I'm Still Alive!!! :-)

Uncle Alexis, Ian, Countess, Babs, Chris, Mark - you can call the search party off. I'm here. I've actually been here since early Saturday morning, I have just been sleeping the party off, haha. Well, I know you are all dying for a recap, so let me break it up into vignettes...

*First and foremost - NO I did not get fucked, raped, or had anything stuffed into or sucked out of any orifice (and vice-versa). I know it is much to the dissappointment of my readers, but I was on my best behavior. However, I was lucky enough to make new fast friends. At one point two drunken guys came up to me and were like "You're cute. We're going to dry-hump you now!" I was like "Umm, okay." They then proceeded to make a "Jesse Sandwich" and push me back and forth in between them. I feigned a look of horror, but we all know I liked it. LOL!

*Obviously, I ended up making it to my first GHP. It really was in question there, as I just barely made my train. I bought my Absolut Vanilla Vodka for my friend Terry at the last possible minute from 'Suburban Liquors' in Y-town. Of course it would be from a local place called 'Suburban', but that is neither here nor there. I then wrapped the alcohol up in party wrapping paper that color coordinated with the bag I put it in, and the ribbon that would later attach to it. (Again, Martha would be proud). All this time of gay prep work and last-minute laundry contributed to my last minute train drama. I had to park in overnight parking b/c the Fucktards at Croton Harmon ticket you daily from 12am to 12am the next morning, and I knew there was no way I would be home by 12am Saturday. This never used to be the case, but they are continually tightening their grip on commuters wallets. So, I had to park in overnight parking which costs double and for your non-convenience is about as far away from the train that you can get and still be in the same country. I could have taken a plane from where I had to park to where the train actually was. SO, I had to run a great distance, in the rain, with a bag full of a bottle of Vodka to catch the train with literally seconds to spare. However, for once I made the train and was on my way to the big city...

*With all my belated troubles, I was still able to arrive in the lobby of Terry's apartment at 8:35 for a party that was supposed to begin at 8:30. Obviously, I was the first person there - which I SO did not want to be. Gays have to make their belated grand enterances and all, you know? I know Ian and Uncle Alexis would have wanted me to show up looking like Norma Desmond in her glory days, but it just did not happen. Instead I pretended to fiddle with my cell phone in the lobby, being afraid to buzz up the apartment. I did this for like 10 minutes when the host appeared in the lobby along with his friend from LA, recognized me and welcomed me up. At this time another guest arrived. So the four of us got the party started...

*In the elevator up to the apartment we met a guy who was wearing a T-shirt that said "Cuba" on it. It turns out he lives in the building and he is also a fellow gay. He was invited to the party, and a while later he showed up with a case of Corona's. It must be fun to live in a gay complex!

*My friend's apartment was awesome. It was a studio and SO tiny, but great at the same time. Terry is the most minimalist minimalist I have ever met in my life. He literally had a bed, a small couch unit, a standing mirror, a television set, an area rug, and a table where the party food went on. That's it! None of the normal clutter that someone would have, and no other material posessions, save a few candles. No books, no papers, no tchotzke's, no posters, no pictures, no CD's, no loose change, no clothes, no ANYTHING! Oh how I wish I could become a Minimalist gay like that someday. It's a tiny apartment but it's literally the *BEST* address you can have as a gay man in NYC. The apartment was steps away from the subway stop at 14th and 7th avenue - literally the gateway to Chelsea, the gayest place in the world. I was so in awe of the place. It literally felt like my soul was on fire being in a location like that. Man oh man - how I'd love to escape this suburban hell and live in NYC or Miami. The possibilities and the difference in my life would be a complete 180 degrees from what I have now.

*The party itself was a BLAST! The guys were super nice and friendly. It was mostly a young professional NYC crowd. The guys ranged from their 20's to 40's, worked in gay fields like 'Reality TV', 'Casting Independent Movies', 'Actor/Waiter', 'Advertising', and the ubiquitous NYC career - 'Finance'. I was probably the only 'Student', but that is okay b/c really it's just another term for 'Fresh meat' or 'Jailbait' - and who doesn't love those!!! ;)

*They like me, they really like me! I can't tell you how great it was just to get dressed up, to care about the way I looked, to show up in a room of gay men, to put yourself out there, and to make new friends. A GHP is so much more informal and low-key then going to a big NYC nightclub, which has really been my only gay NYC experience to date (except for meeting random strangers from the Internet, but that has never worked out, lol). Everyone was totally friendly, unassuming, and so sweet to me. I don't know if I'll ever see half these guys again, but for one night - the first in a long time - I felt like NYC embraced me. Like I had this sudden camraderie with a group of strangers. Like I was let out of the tower of desolation that I normally occupy, and able to be myself among the masses. And much to my surprise, the me among the masses was fabulous.

*The one thing that sucked about the party was that I was not able to enjoy it 'full-blast'. Since it was a Vodka Party, you best believe there was tons and tons of alcohol present. I could only have two drinks when I first got there, b/c I knew I would have to take the late train home, and to then drive a half hour home from there. This is why actually living in NYC must rule - you never have to worry about driving anywhere! If I move to Miami, I could see this being a major problem, unless of course I bring my personal chauffer Jeeves with me. But that is neither here nor there, lol. I totally wanted to "drink it up" and experience the party full on out. There is something nice of getting buzzed to the point of almost losing all of your inhibitions. I was able to lose a few of them enough to be more social than shy in a room of strangers though, so I guess the amount I had did the trick. However - it did suck having to leave at 1am when I know the party didn't let out till after 2am. Even after that I know a bunch of guys that were there went out dancing. I had to wait at the train station until 1:50am and didn't get into my front door until 3:40am on Saturday morning. That is over 2 and a half hours from when I left the party!!! No wonder I never go out in the city. I'm glad I did though. But MAN, I can't wait to actually and finally LIVE in a city with gay people!!! December cannot come soon enough!!! :)

*One dumb thing I did was to be interested in this guy who had absolutely no interest in me. He was this 24 year old Italian Stallion named Anthony. He was very sweet, but you know how you can tell by body language when someone is just not interested. That is totally the case of what happened with me and him. He was just so muscley, and sexy, and so proud about what he is doing with his life (Food services, aka probably a waiter - but he just seemed so PROUD - it was magnetic!), etc...I couldn't help but being drawn to him. He was friendly and cordial enough, but everytime he would run away I would chase him a little, until he ran away again. Man, I am bad! I dont' know why I do it, or why I'm so magnetically drawn to someone and why they never feel the same way back, but it's just what happens. It's a pretty sick pattern, huh? Well he WAS nice and hot but...damn! Grrrr. Talk about sexual frustration, lol! I wanted to mount that Stallion like...okay, okay...I'll stop...lol.

*Everyone was still seriously amazing. One of the funniest things that happened was that I was introduced to a guy who is - no joke - a bouncer at Twist in South Beach!!! It turns out his apartment is being fumigated for bugs and he came to NYC to visit his friends for the weekend. His name was, I believe, Omar, and he was really friendly. He said I had a beautiful smile. Sigh - you have got to love Miami boys! :)

*I don't know where to end this blog on the party, other than to say that I had an AMAZING time and I'm *SO GLAD* that I got up the gusto to go. Drinks were had, laughs were shared, stories were told, and music was played. A Dry-Humping-Jesse-Sandwich was even achieved! You just can't argue with results like that!!! I didn't do 'The Beyonce' for everyone, though. But then again - no Beyonce was played. It was a glimpse of the kind of life I would like to live, much like my visits to Miami. It's a taste, a morsel - instead of the entire meal. I can't wait to someday get the entire meal, and I can't wait to become the kind of person fulltime that I get to be part time when I am around other, kind, friendly gay people. It's so awesome - truly awesome - how I feel when around those "like me". Someday, I will find myself over the rainbow. Someday! :)

F***********************ck!!!

All my jeans are wrinkled, I don't have time to dry my underwear, I'm running super late, I still don't know where to get Vodka from, I'm posting a blog and I have to go like NOW. F***************ck!!!

Losing my 'Gay House Party' Virginity Tonight!!!

While I am not normally one to go on about the inconspicuous details of my life in my blog, Uncle Alexis and The Countess Bedelia have sanctioned that I had better damn well do so. Well - here is some very important news, a most interesting development...

In all my years, I have actually never attended a 'Gay House Party'(GHP). Well that's not entirely true - The party at Uncle Alexis' last September was definitely a GHP, but it falls under it's own unique title of 'Fabulous Pool Party' and the adventure at Andy's house with the 7th during Hurricane Rita developed into a GHP, but I also file it under it's own distinctive heading - 'Hurricane Party'. As far as I know, no pools will be found in this studio apartment and no hurricanes are heading for New York City tonight. However, what with the 'Inconvenient Truth' of global warming and all, I'll keep my fingers crossed.

This is going to be a new stepping out on my own type of deal. I got invited to this party a few weeks back from an internet acquaintance. I have actually never met said acquaintance, but he seems like a nice guy. He recently moved from Washington Heights to a studio in Chelsea, NYC. This is his housewarming party, which has turned into a 'Vodka Party' (everyone brings their own bottle and shares), but the most important distinction of all is that it is a GHP! I'm excited. I swear, for whatever reason, I have just never been to one before. I feel totally unprepared - I have a lot of laundry to do between now and when I leave for the train at 6pm. I'm kind of scared b/c I will know absolutely *NO ONE* at this event, but I know at the same time it's important that I go. I worked damn hard this past semester in school, things are kind of stressful at home, I've been working very hard with my dad in the heat this past week doing HVAC stuff, and - I need to be around other gay guys. I can't stay locked up in quarantine in Northern Westchester forever! ;) Sure - I get leave every now and then, but the leash is never very long. I'm excited to finally venture out and see what happens. Normally I am too down or nervous to even bother, but I feel that tonight I'll be able to rise to the occasion. Even if it sucks, if I meet no one, if I make nothing but enemies, if I come home crying of shame - at least I will be able to say that I DID IT. I got up the nerve to go into a new scary situation on my own and got to experience my first official GHP. Wish me luck - it's off to the shower, to finish laundry, to go buy some Vodka (something I've also never done before has been to purchase liquor from a liquor store!), and to make my way to Manhattan...

Update tomorrow? :-)