These are historic times, to be sure, and I don't have much time to write about them just now. I'm at UCLA Neuro waiting to get an MRI done for the study. Good times. They'll call my name any second and I'll have to log off.

Last night I spoke with Ramsey's mom, who is concerned because all the way down the CO River this past week, Ramsey was "joined at the hip" with his 18 year old cousin who, she feels, behaves completely gay, and is rubbing off on her 14 year old son.

She would like it if I could keep in touch with him over the break to "keep him grounded" while he is up in NorCal visiting with his cousin. Then she will not allow him to visit his cousin anymore after this visit, and she'll keep him here, with us, where "the people are normal."

Good Christ, what the fuck do I do with that? Ramsey is as gay as I am, is not dating, is the nicest, most polite kid I know, with talent in multiple areas more than most, and he is, by far, my favorite kid ever. I struggle to deal with this. How to react?

For now, I'll do nothing and pray that it blows over. It won't, of course, and I'll wind up having to say something to both of them eventually. Ramsey knows about me and we have had talks about others' perceptions of our behavior and what dangers that could hold. He is 14, however, and goading people on to make them reveal their true feelings about us is what he lives for. He is an old soul, but nothing can make up for not being on this earth in this life for more than 14 years. There are still things he cannot know without being there to experience them. And while he is ridiculously experienced for his age, he has yet to experience the darker sides of homophobia and what it can do to a person/community/group/friendship/relationship of any sort.

I am concerned for him. I am concerned for me. I am concerned for the program. I am concerned that his mom will flip out (more than usual) and destroy us all in our lives as we know it.

I made a promise, in this diary, I think, to G-d, that I would take better care of myself if my father could only escape the clutches of Alzheimer's. It turns out he is okay (for the time being), and that his issues were coming from a medication conflict. I am eating better now and have given up ice cream. Thank you, G-d, for sparing us this once.

Israel is giving Gaza back...something I never thought I'd see in my lifetime. I cry for the Israelis who are having to give up their homes. I cry for the Palestinians who are getting theirs back. I cry for the magnitude of it all, and for just the little inkling of an idea that Hope may still be alive in the world. This proves it, I think. Never give up.

I cry because Yassir never saw it happen while he is alive. I cry because Yassir is alive in the peace talks despite their wishing him dead and gone.

The thing with Ramsey is going to put me over the edge, I think. I am paranoid and horrified and saddened and angry all at once, and damnit, I'm on vacation and don't want to deal with it.

When Iran and I went to the school to see about a Gay Straight Alliance, it was tough going. I was not courageous enough to talk to anyone about what we were doing. Iran had to approach teachers and ask whether they'd be willing to sponsor us and be our advisor for the group. We were turned down several times, but the biggest blow (aside from being ultimately turned down for the Alliance) was from the one teacher we knew to be a lesbian. She didn't feel safe enough in her job to help us out.

I never forgot that, and I never forgot the anguish Iran and I both felt over not being able to have her as an ally because of the danger we were all in. there were girls slitting their wrists and trying to hang themselves, and this woman who could have been our refuge felt just as trapped as we did. Hope was out of the question. Our future was staring us in the face: we would never be accepted, and our love would never be okay. We would live our our deepest emotions in total secrecy, or we would supress our deepest emotions until we died of broken hearts. Dried up teaching Latin somewhere in the boondocks in some all-girls boarding school.

Now there are GSA's everywhere (including my alma mater), and after having advised one...gotta go.

Posted by twids at 8:31 am