Wow. I have been a very bad blogger.

I just realized that I haven’t written anything in over a year and a half. Our time in Germany has come to an end, and we are preparing to head back. It’s been awesome, and I need to write about it. Just not right now. I have friends visiting from the States, so it’s going to be a very busy week! I honestly do intend to pick back up where I left off. Please be patient…there are lots of stories and thoughts that I hope to share once I am resettled back in Texas. Thanks!

On God and stuff…

I recently made a long trip to Montana to deliver two of our dogs and my two parrots to “grandma’s house”  in preparation for our move to Germany. Things are moving along well, though the buyer who has a contract on our house has been yanking us around by completely ignoring all attempts at communication for the past two weeks. No matter…if closing falls through, we’ll just list the house and try again.

Anyway, on the endless interstate back to Texas, I found myself punching through radio stations trying to find something to listen to besides my well-worn CDs.  I landed on a program that caught my interest…a Catholic broadcast with some sort of airwaves preacher doling out spiritual advice. I listened intently for nearly an hour, and wasn’t shocked or angered by the views that were spewed forth as the indisputable word of God… I was just saddened. It all seemed so very sanctimonious and self-indulgent. This man was advising callers on their multitude of sins, condemning issue after issue. There was no middle ground. A young mother who was concerned about her teenaged son’s interest in naked pictures of women was warned that this was among the gravest of sins, and that she had best get a handle on this situation straight away. She asked if there wasn’t some sort of leniency in this department, being that there should surely be a healthy curiosity that is allowable at this age. No. There is no healthy curiosity. Only a mortal sin in the works and she, as a mother, should be prepared to drag his lustful little butt off to church to do some serious confessing.

This sort of condemnation went on until I’d had enough. I thought I might learn something new…something I hadn’t yet considered. Not a chance. My opinion of those in “power” within the church was only further gelled. I know many of my friends are conservative and Christian, so I hope they will be open to my thoughts without becoming offended. I am not church-bashing, so please understand that what I write is simply how I feel. Bringing down those of faith is not within my Big Fat Gay Agenda. I am not out to influence anyone, but rather I feel that I have just as much a right to my beliefs and opinions as the next guy. In fact, I am a person of sizable faith myself. I am just not of the same faith as church-going folks. I have no use for a jealous God. Or a vengeful God. Or a selfish God. Or a punitive God. This is something I will never, ever believe- that God is a singular entity who sits and stews over something as insignificant as human devotion. I am happy for those who can believe in their faith and their church, so long as they do so without judgement of those around them. I can’t think of a single religion that encourages judgment or vilification of others, yet it happens every second of every day.

For future reference, let me point out that when I use the name “God” I am not saying I believe that this is an individual deity. To me, God is a force. An ethereal, powerful, conscious, collective intelligence. This may sound insane to some, but it’s my own personal choice to believe what I do…and as I said earlier, I am just as entitled to my faith as anyone else.

George is Catholic, and I have asked him how he can attend a church that condemns his family. He says that it isn’t about the literal interpretation of what is said by many church leaders, but rather it’s about the communion with God and the peace that attending a service can bring. I have to wonder, though, how peaceful  he could feel if the sermon of the week is one that discusses the sinful and unacceptable lives of gay people. Ariana often chooses to attend mass with him, and I do not discourage her interest. I do make sure that she understands that there are many, many ways to believe in all things spiritual, however, and take every opportunity to let her know that I have beliefs that are different from those around her. I don’t want her being taught that her world should be one of fear and sin and guilt, but I know that she will come to make her own choices in this arena as she grows older. I will love and support her forever, no matter what her life choices may be. I only want her to know that I do not believe that any one religion is wrong, nor is any one religion right. They are all on equal ground. It’s what people take from them that is important. We all know self-proclaimed pious individuals who do not speak and live as God would probably want, don’t we?

I realize that not all churches are Hell, Fire and Brimstone. Most, in fact, are not. Many people believe the same as I, in their own ways…that God is an entity of love and acceptance who is made up of all of everything that is, and ever was. I am of the belief that God is a compilation of all that is good and supportive. Further, I feel that God is in all of us, and in everything around us. To put is more simply, God is Love. God is Mother Nature. God is…present.

I also believe in Evil. I have seen it (but that’s a whole different topic). As with God, I do not believe in a single, dark figure who takes on the identity of the entity known as Satan or the devil. Evil, to me, is a force…the same as God. The Yang to the Yin. Evil can take on individualized form, though, manifesting itself into nasty, destructive beings…just as Good can take on the form of those who work to support the force that is God. So am I saying that Evil is just another God-force, making up a second collective? Sort of. But Light will always trump Darkness, so there is no equality between Good and Evil. God is, and always will be, superior to that which is Evil.

I really didn’t intend to write so much about what I believe, as far as religion goes. But people have asked me about my thoughts on this matter, and I think I’ve just pretty much just answered them.

Now, how do I deal with those who use the Bible as a tool for condemning gay people? Well…if they are quoting the Old Testament, and follow every instruction and scripture found therein, well then..yeah…being gay is a sin. Well, rather the sexual act is a sin. It’s hard to really condemn someone for their entire persona, so let’s just say that it’s the sex acts that are sinful…in which case, I am a more of a saint than a sinner in that regard. Being a parent will do that to a person’s sex life, won’t it?

Anyway, back to the Bible. There are, as far as I can tell, six Biblical texts that are used to condemn gay people. Leviticus 18:6 and 20:13 clearly state that a man who lies with another man “as with a woman” should be executed. Yikes. That’s harsh. But wait…Leviticus also goes on to say that if a man and woman have sex during the woman’s period (18:19), then they should both be put to death. In Deuteronomy 22:13-21, it states that if a woman is discovered to not be a virgin on her wedding night, then she should be stoned to death. Also, in 22:22, we find that if a married person sleeps with someone else’s wife (or husband), both adulterers should be put to death. In Mark 10:1, it’s clearly outlined that divorce is entirely prohibited, as is remarriage.  And in 12:18-27, we’re informed that if a man dies childless, his wife is fully expected to have sex with his brothers until she conceives a male heir. This isn’t a suggestion…it is the law. A command set forth in this particular book.

I’m not listing these texts to ridicule Christianity, but I do think that pretty much everyone I know would have been condemned or put to death by now, if we are to take every scripture in the Bible as law. It’s not fair to use the Bible as a  weapon of convenience, picking and choosing verses to suit our own agendas. The Bible has changed throughout history, as we all know (or we should know, anyway)…yet the same old arguments are defended using outdated or misunderstood passages.

Not many people are even aware that the pioneering scientist, Galileo, was imprisoned for life, declared a heretic by the Pope. His crime? Daring to suggest that the Earth revolved around the sun. The Bible has, sadly, been used as a tool to defend the horrific acts of the Crusades and the Inquisition, to support slavery, to persecute Jews and the Holocaust, to support the motives of Hitler and the KKK, to oppose medical science, to condemn interracial marriage, and to execute women as witches. It can be utilized in any way that a person sees fit. I believe it was Shakespeare who said that even the devil himself could make good use of the Bible. The Bible isn’t the problem. We are.

So yeah…I don’t feel especially sinful or in danger of eternal damnation. Everyone should take a long look in the mirror before  giving homosexuality even the most fleeting of thoughts. The last thing I want to toss around in my mind is whether or not my neighbor is having sex during her period. Ew. So why are so many people so very concerned with gay people? I have my own theories on this, but this is enough for today.

Until next time…be nice.

Ew. That’s just wrong…

I couldn’t have picked a more ridiculous time to start blogging! Things are still crazy around here, and it seems like I’m busier with every passing day…but I do still think about writing every day, so that should count for something, right?

Anyway…

Ok, so I was cruising around FaceBook the other day, and saw that one of my friends had joined a group called “I Support Gay Marriage” or something to that effect (there are so many groups, I forget). The first person to make a comment under her posting was some girl who simply said, “ew. that’s just wrong on so many levals” (her grammar, not mine). Of course I then had to make a comment after her, stating my own opinions on the matter. Then, after saying what I had to say, I decided to delete. No need to be incendiary, especially after I read this girl’s profile. When I got to the part that said she is a stay-at-home mom who “hates to read,” I realized I was dealing with someone who gets the bulk of her education from Jerry Springer. This is not the sort of person who will likely be open to any sort of intelligent dialogue.

It did get me to thinking, though, about how there are still people who don’t know anyone who is gay or lesbian- or at least they think they don’t. I can say with utmost certainty that there isn’t anyone out there who doesn’t know a gay person…they are just unaware of who the gay people are around them. Those living in small towns are no exception, of course, as my graduating class in Libby, Montana produced no less than five openly gay and lesbian people… probably more. I don’t think people can be faulted for not being comfortable with the idea of  LGBT people when they are simply not familiar with just how “normal” most of us are. Yeah, we have our freakshows, but what group doesn’t?

In order to do my small part in familiarizing some of you with a bit of the terminology, I’ll give you a quick, very condensed breakdown:

LGBT: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender.  Gay/Lesbian: A person who is attracted emotionally and physically to a person of the same sex.  Bisexual: A person who is equally or by varying degrees attracted to either sex.  Transgender: A person who feels that he/she was born into the wrong gender, also described as experiencing gender dysphoria. Transsexual: A person who gains gratification (sexual, emotional, or both) by crossdressing. They often do this “in the closet” and many times self-identify as straight. Drag Queen: A person (usually a gay male) who crossdresses purely for entertainment value. Ordinarily, a drag queen is NOT gender dysphoric or a transsexual. Butch: A gay or lesbian person who exhibits hyper-masculine qualities. Fem: The opposite of butch! Friend of Dorothy: Codeword that refers to a gay person. Lipstick Lesbian: One who exhibits entirely feminine characteristics, while still self-identifying as lesbian. Bear: A robust, hairy, often leather-wearing gay man. Nelly or Mary: A gay man who is unabashedly feminine. “Mary” is often used as a term of endearment between gay men. Gayling: A young, newly-out LGBT person who is not yet well versed in the ins and outs of the LGBT community. Fag Hag or Fairy Princess: The female best friend of a gay man. Offensive Terms: Fag, Queer, Dyke, etc. should not be hurled at a LGBT person by a straight person, as such slurs are often accompanied by a flying beer bottle. We don’t like that. Conversely, if we know you as a friend, we are almost never offended by such terms.

This doesn’t cover all of the different identities and terms within the LGBT community, of course, but it should serve as a pretty basic guide. Now, seeing that there are multiple groups of LGBT people, doesn’t it make perfect sense that there is nearly as much intolerance and prejudice from within the LGBT community as there is from without? Just look at any gay dating website, and you’ll most certainly find ads that state “No Fats, Fems, or Asians.” Oh, yes…hypocrisy is alive and well in Gayville. Admittedly, those posting such rubbish are usually just gaylings, so we try to look past such indiscretions. Oh, wait…I’m not saying I know anything about gay dating websites…I’m just saying.

Can I just add one last thing? If you hear anyone using that tired old phrase “God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve,” please bear in mind that this is not only an entirely moronic thing to say, but also quite incorrect. I’m pretty sure God knew what He was doing, so those who raise themselves to the position of judge and jury by saying such things are certainly not living up to the standards set forth by Jesus. And let us not forget that not all people are Christian, so basing judgments and attacks against LGBT people on the Bible is not especially fair or effective. I’d hazard to say that 80% or more of people who use the Bible as a reference against others can’t even quote the chapter or verse that says anything in regard to same-sex relationships. I could get started on the Old Testament, where there is but slight mention of homosexuality in comparison to all of the other mortal sins, but I’ll save that for later. And trust me…I will get to it.

Ok, I suppose that will be enough for this entry. I was going to talk a bit about the whole  “Born Gay” vs. “Lifestyle Choice” debate…but that could take a while, so I think I’ll wait. I certainly have my opinions on this one, so I’ll try to begin soon.

Until next time…!

Ok, I’m making time.

I’m going to write tonight, even if I have to nail my feet to the floor underneath my desk.

So I should pick up from where I left off…where was I? We were in Dallas, and had learned that a baby was to be born to a woman who was known through George’s family.

Ok…

So this young mother already had three children, and was about to have a fourth. She was unmarried, and the pregnancy was the result of a one-nighter with her ex. She had decided that she would give the baby up to the state for adoption, until Brenda (George’s cousin’s niece, who was the babysitter for the first three children) let her know that she knew someone who would happily adopt the baby. She made her decision swiftly, and quicker than you can say buggy baby bumpers, we had begun the process.

Everything fell into place. George’s best friend from childhood grew up to be a lawyer. He handled all of the details for us. What is not lost on me is the fact that many people wait for years for the opportunity to adopt a newborn baby, and spend upwards of tens of thousands of dollars throughout a grueling process of red-tape, interviews, and legalities. I don’t think we paid out more than $5,000 in total. The birth mother even had her own health insurance, and never took a cent from us. We were extremely fortunate to have this child fall directly into our laps. We weren’t even thinking about adopting at the time, being that we had only been together for such a relatively short amount of time. But when Brenda told Rosario to inform us of the situation, we barely even questioned whether or not we wanted to become parents in two months. We decided within minutes, it seemed, but remained guarded. Mothers have been known to change their minds, even as late as the day of the birth.

The adoption, being private, wasn’t the tedious, arduous path scattered with obstacles that so many adoptive parents must brave. That said, bear in mind that we were living in Dallas. As in Texas. We felt intimidated by the fact that Texas is far from the sort of place that welcomes same-sex parents into parenthood. Ultimately, it would be up to the visiting social worker and the judge who would finalize the adoption. So, when the social worker arranged her pre-birth home visit, I took a walk. We decided that only one of us would attempt to be the official adoptive “single” parent, and George, being a  neonatal nurse practitioner, was the clear choice. It may not have been the bravest thing for us to do, but it was certainly the safest.

Two months go by quickly when you are busy decorating a nursery in a Noah’s Ark theme, and having baby showers thrown in your honor. If memory serves properly, we had a total of four showers. The women in our lives (friends, family, coworkers) took the reigns and made sure that we had everything that a baby could possibly need, right down to that squishy bulb thing that sucks snot out of little nostrils. We were soon informed that the baby was a little girl. I liked the name “Madison”…but George and his family said that, in Spanish, it sounded like some sort of medication. We tossed around a few more girly-names until one of us said “Ariana.” It just sounded right. We looked it up, and discovered that the meaning is “God’s Chose One” and “Holy One.” So that would be it, then.

Ariana.

We were all set…but still, I felt as if I was holding my breath. What if she decided she couldn’t give the baby up? What if something went wrong? What if…what if…what if….

In the earliest of hours on a cold December morning, when George was still at work, I heard the phone ring. I groggily stumbled through the fog of a dream to answer it. I saw an El Paso phone number on the caller ID.

“Hello?”

An exhausted voice on the other end informed me that she had “had the baby.”

Baby? Baby what? Who what?

 I was taken aback, because I didn’t even know that this was how things were going to come down. I was unaware that she even had our phone number. Everything had been handled through a third-party, our lawyer-friend. I thanked her for calling, and called George at work. He made arrangements to fly to El Paso that same day. I, we decided, would need to stay home and take care of things there. Remember, we had a teen-aged golden retriever to think about. I paced around the kitchen for what seemed to be hours. I felt excited beyond anything I had ever experienced. I remembered the white votive candle that I had bought. I went to a kitchen drawer and took out a paring knife. I carved the date. Above that, I etched the name “Ariana.” I filled in the scratches with pink paint, so as to make them stand out more. Then I lit the candle and placed in on the windowsill in the living room. Were we really going to be parents? I still have this candle, and keep it hidden away. I don’t know if I ever even showed it to George.

It turned out that Ariana developed a mild case of jaundice, but George wasn’t alarmed. He worked with newborns every day. I was a mess.

She would have to stay in the hospital for a few days of care and observation. Unfortunately, the birth mother chose not to donate her breast milk, along with its beneficial colostrum. She had, in fact, gone home as soon as George arrived. We’d never see nor speak with her again, as these were her wishes.

Finally, the time came. George and our baby were heading home to Dallas. Rosario (you remember, the cousin that I mentioned earlier) was coming with him. She would be our nanny in those early years, as I was working at the Dallas Zoo and going to school in the evenings. Rosario and I would come to have our differences,  but in the end I knew that I would trust her above all others with the life of our child. She was like a cross between Mary Poppins and a pit bull.

I watched the car turn into the driveway. I stood at the window as George went to the back and helped Rosario unbuckle the car seat. I couldn’t go outside. It was all so surreal. I opened the door and looked down at this package that he was carrying into our home. Diego sniffed excitedly, his tail wagging furiously. He would become our baby’s greatest admirer and constant companion. At least for a few, short precious years.

I took Ariana from George’s arms and sat down on the sofa. I just stared at her. She looked into my eyes, and we just sat there. This is an image that is forever tucked away in my memories…along with a single question: “Where did you come from?”  She seemed otherworldly. Like an angel, if I can say so without sounding cheesy. The way she looked at me made me think that she wasn’t a baby at all, but rather an ancient soul that was seeing me…really seeing me, like no one had ever seen me before. I was in love. A new, pure-white kind of love. Diego sat at my feet and laid his head across my knee. He, too, was staring. Just staring.

Suddenly, we were a family.

Sorry! I’m working on it…

Hey, friends…

I’m not trying to neglect you…I do have a big fat gay agenda, I promise! I’ve just been really tied up these past few days. I put the word out and about in the neighborhood that our home may be up for sale, and suddenly it’s been showing after showing. There are two couples that are very interested, but the question will be whether or not the lenders are still being stingy with their home loans. It’s frustrating when they base the value of your home on square footage alone, regardless of  home improvements, landscaping additions, outbuildings, and the size of the property that you have. I even put in a koi pond, damn it!

Well, we’ll see what happens. I’ll be back very shortly. No, really…I will!

Ya gotta check this out….

Ok, here I am already passing on links…but this a must-see! Check out Jesse Archer’s blog at jesseonthebrink.blogspot.com  …and be sure and watch the trailer for his upcoming film, also starring our beloved Mindy Cohn! She played Natalie like a pro, but wait until you see how amazing she is now! Can’t wait for the movie…

Everything Changed.

It was 1998 when I met my partner, George, in San Diego. He was in town for a conference, and we both just happened to be out that night. I wasn’t really all that into the clubbing scene. I’d been there, done that. But I had agreed, somewhat begrudgingly, to accompany my ex for a night on the town.

While the ex was mixing and mingling, I stood near the bar, watching people dance. I was bored, and wanted to go home. Just as I was about to sneak away, I was approached by this handsome, congenial guy who attempted to engage me in a cheerful bout of small talk. I found him very attractive and even kind, even if I had begun to believe that it wasn’t realistic to expect that these two traits could be found paired together. I had my “I’m not a good person to talk to right now” face on, but he persisted, and bought me a drink. Of course he has an entirely different version of how this all came down, but mine is the actual scenario, so don’t be believing anything different! George has everyone fooled…except for me, of course.

I would have rather swapped spit with a rabid ferret than start dating again, but still I agreed to a dinner date for the following evening. We went out for sushi, which was fairly new to him. I put a good-sized dab of wasabi on his plate, assuming that he knew what to do with it. He proceeded to take the entire ball of green paste between an unsteady pair of chopsticks and popped it into his mouth. He choked. Sputtered. Turned purple. It was hilarious, but I had to act at least a little concerned, so I advised him to down some white rice and sip on some Saki. He recovered, but will never live it down. Sushi and sashimi are  now among his favorite foods…but the wasabi is used a bit more sparingly. And even though he tries to control his carbs intake, there is always some white rice at the ready…

We dated long distance for about six months, with me visiting Dallas and him coming back to San Diego on occasion. Once we realized that our relationship had turned into something of greater substance, I agreed to relocate to Dallas. He owned an adorable little cottage home on an oak-lined street, and I fell in love with the area. And him.

Sadly, his house had only the barest of decor. He fancied it minimalist. I called it a distaste for shopping (though, interestingly enough, he does love shopping for clothes…and shoes. Trust me when I say that Carrie Bradshaw has nothing on his shoe collection). We fixed that soon enough. The first breath of life that we brought in was a little ficus tree. It was the first plant he had ever owned. We still have it, and it’s taller now than I am. It remains one of our most coveted possessions. Then we did the next most logical thing. We got a puppy. He was a rambunctious golden retriever, and we named him Diego. This dog was an excellent lesson in parenting and real, live responsibility. When he was about six months old, we went on a vacation, so our friend Michelle agreed to house and dog-sit. It was she who first allowed him to sleep in the people’s bed. Upon our return, we never again had the bed to ourselves. Unlike myself, who always had an animal of some sort sleeping in the crook of my arm, George grew up in a large, Hispanic family where dogs were not meant to live in the house. And now he was being spooned by an eighty-pound pile of canine. Yes…everything changes. We had Diego for only a few short years, as he developed cancer and passed away. We were devastated. I have seen George cry only once in 12 years, and that was the time.

I like to think that I have helped George develop a more sensitive and sentimental side, which tends to balance the part of him that is often serious and guarded . He would like to think that he has helped me to become more responsible, realistic and grounded. But he knows he’d be fooling himself. I’m still the little bohemian that I’ve always been…it’s just that I’m no longer a bona fide member of the roaming order of gypsies. Opposites attract, they say. Yeah. I’d have to agree.

Nearly a year passed, and events began to unfold that would forever alter our lives in the most fantastically crazy of ways. A family member, Rosario (yes…just like Karen’s maid), called George from El Paso. Her niece babysat for a woman who was seven months pregnant, and she had decided to give the baby up to the state for adoption. It was suggested that we consider asking to take the baby.

My next post will continue from here, but the hour is late, I’m afraid, and I’ve been up since six this morning. I had to do the irrigating, lest we welcome spring with a lawn that is the shade and texture of a dead camel’s hide.

Until next time, friends…

Who am I, You ask…?

I suppose I might be considered rude if I didn’t properly introduce myself, and give a brief summary of who I am and what I do. There are a bazillion stories that I can get into, but we’ll cover those one by one as time goes on. For now, let’s just go with the condensed version.

I grew up in a smidge of a town called Libby, Montana. It may very well be the most beautiful little community in all creation, as it is nestled in a mountainous valley alongside the magnificant Kootenai River. Anyway, like most small towns, Libby was not especially fond of anything, or anyone, unconventional. This is the sort of town where a moose walking down mainstreet made the front page of the Western News.

I knew I was different from other boys from a very early age. I didn’t know what it meant to be gay, but I did know that I had no interest in Tonka trucks or playing football at recess. From junior high on, virtually all of my friends were girls…most of whom are still my dearest friends in all the world. I was in Pep Club, and I, along with a female counterpart, was elected class artist (though certainly not the most talented, even if my peers voted me as such in the yearbook), and I was the school mascot…a position shared with Melinda, an incredibly fun and boisterous young lady who was adored almost as much as myself when she swung that large, wooden axe that was the token prop of the infamous Libby Logger mascot. But I digress…

Pep Club? Art? Mascot? Exclusively female friends? Hellooooooo. Really?

Had libby not been so provencially and blissfully ignorant of the concept of homosexuality, I think I might have been outed by the fifth grade. But no one asked, and I never told.

After graduation, I signed up for a five year tour in the Navy. I was somehow lucky enough to score very well on the ASVAB exams, and was able to choose from the most coveted of billets. I decided to become a Naval Photographer. Those were some great years, and so began my infatuation with travel. More about all of that later. Moving on…

After the Navy, I went into the field of social services, working mostly with at-risk youth and children with developmental disabilities. Oh,yeah…and I came out. It wasn’t nearly as traumatic as I had anticipated. Both of my parents were amazing, and accepted my gayness with open arms. Mostly. My mother did ask if I’d be pilfering her wardrobe. My dad just acted like nothing had changed, which was pretty much the case. I was still me, after all.

I have lived all over the country, including Los Angeles, San Diego, Medford, New Orleans, Bakersfield, St. Helens, Charlotte, Asheville, Dallas, El Paso, and Portland…and probably a few more places that have slipped my mind. My current residence with my family is definitively the longest that I have remained in one location. The reason for that, of course, is our daughter. We are, however, in the process of considering a move to Europe, as my partner has been offered a fantastic position in Landstuhl, Germany. We are all fairly excited and hopeful. What a great experience for a kid! It’s only for a few years, so she’d be back in time for middle school. I know better than anyone that no one should ever experience the wonders of being the new kid in junior high. Been there, done that…hated it!

After about ten years of several short-lived relationships, I met my current partner, George. Within one year, I had relocated to Dallas from San Diego, and we adopted a newborn baby girl within a few months of our cohabitation. She is the best thing that has ever happened in my entire life, and being a parent has been a priceless challenge and blessing. She is now a precocious nine year-old who has already discovered that her intelligence and superiority far exceed my own.

And that’s pretty much me. Of course there are volumes that I have yet to discuss, but we’ll get to all of that in time. Stay tuned, and check in often… my Big Fat Gay Agenda has just begun.