Nothing like having the state Supreme Court affirm your rights as a second-class citizen to get the old blood pumping again, is there?  One thing can certainly be said about having been bitch-slapped again by the decision regarding Prop 8 which snatched away the right to marry from same-sex couples in California, is that it makes everything else seem so trivial.

So yesterday, I hobbled together a sign, jumped in a car with a couple of my buddies and we took the streets of West Hollywood and banded together with our similarly minded brethren and listened to a bevy of civil rights, gay activists, and celebrities to spread the word.

When it all comes down to it, it’s really not very complicated. The theoretical goes along the likes of:

I love him, he loves me, we are committed to each other and we want to get married. But we can’t. Why?

Well, I don’t need to state the obvious.  It all comes down to fairness, to equality, to the clear distinction between what’s right and what’s wrong, and drawing an even deeper line between the haves and the have-nots.

I want to fall in love, I want an English Setter, I want to live in a home and watch Conan with my beloved, and go shopping at Crate and Barrel for ramekins, and have my friends over for dinner and read comic books with my feet up on the deck and comfort my husband when he’s under the weather. What I want in life isn’t very different from what many people want, and what millions of people here in California currently possess. I don’t want your civil union. I don’t want your asterisk next to my name. I want what my parents and their parents had. I want to be respected, honored, loved, cherished, smiled at, appreciated, and hugged. In a word, I want to be married.

Anything less would be a tragedy.

To be perfectly honest, I haven’t been in the best of moods lately. I’ve been in a foul ass, irritable, slippery slope of up and down and frankly even I’m sick of it. Nothing’s triggered it, I’m not upset about anything in particular, and I’ve had a lot of things go right recently. And then this morning, on May 26, 2009, the state Supreme Court ruled in favor of upholding the ban on same-sex marriages in California (the highly visible and talked about Prop 8, known not just in our fair state, but across the country and around the world).

So you don’t like me. Okay. Cool. Good to know where you stand.

What have I ever done to you? What does me, and the thousands of gays and lesbians who want to embrace and engage in marriage do to you and yours? You know that you’re still married, right? You are still the same person you ever were. We’re just over here and married, and you’re just over there and married.

Fine. But you know this isn’t over, right?

We will fight. We will fight for what is right, for what’s equal for all people, and we won’t stop until we get there. Separate water fountains aren’t good enough. The back of the bus isn’t good enough. And sorry, civil unions aren’t good enough.

And that thing you like to do where you throw that, “Well if two men want to get married, then why can’t I marry a palm tree?” crap at me, I’m tracking you down, I’m knocking on your door, and we’re going to have a conversation.  Who the hell wants to marry a palm tree, anyway?

Look, I don’t see myself as some activist. I get up, I go to work, I take pictures, I go out to eat, and I hang out with my friends. I’m not even dating anyone, let alone close to embarking on the big deal that I gather marriage to be.  But what have we ever done to be treated so unfairly with respect to being married?

It’s me again. Told you I was going to be getting back into the spirit of things. So, a lot has happened, and as I attempt to make this a virtual reboot of where I rant and rave and talk a lot about people who bitch and complain about not getting laid enough, or why their relationships went south, or why their significant other didn’t go south, I’m back on the blog. In my heart of hearts, I’m still that same nonsensical wild and crazy guy, but so much has happened, I needed a well-needed rest from blogging. After all, there’s only so many dick jokes a guy can throw around.

I can’t talk about Friendfeed enough. I love it there. It’s a blast. I’ve met tons of people and just yesterday got mentioned on a high profile blogs by Mike Fruchter and Louis Gray; two guys I’d never thought pay any kind of attention to me in my little niche of the interwebz, but they did, and I’m grateful. (Hi, guys!)

The thing about blogging and social media all that it entails is that it can skew heavily tech. And I’m just not all that techy. I like gadgets, and high-definition television and digital cameras and toy robots, I suppose, but I also like food and cooking, and tattoos, trains, maps, old school hip-hop, and cashmere.  I don’t know anything about IT, I had a friend install my Wordpress, and recently it stopped importing pictures cause I think my Flash is wonky. I don’t know how to fix it, and am not losing any sleep over it.

But maybe that’s why I was selected.

A lot of people  look at these A-list badasses in technology and social media and try their hardest to emulate them. It’s like me working at school, the same school where the often criticized Michael Bay of Transformers fame and Zack Snyder, director of  300 and Watchmen studied film. I talk to prospective students who are so wide-eyed with fanboy lust in these two iconic men that I have to tell them: Don’t try and be Michael Bay. Stop trying to be Zack Snyder. It’s with that mindset that I go into looking at the breadth of social media. I couldn’t hang with Robert Scoble if I tried. So, I don’t. And I’m more than OK with that. There’s enough room for everyone if you step back and just let it happen. At the end of the day, I’m just a guy who works in an office, who enjoys his friends, loves to make new ones, and wants to buy you a beer in person. I could probably monetize my site, make some loot, and channel it into new areas, but that’s just not my focus right now. I don’t know. Maybe I’m a shmuck?

I feel for these people, but can appreciate their idol worship. If I ever met Prince face to face, I’d lose my shit, but like I tell these students with their application reels and projects: Just do you. Cause you’re the only [insert name here] that there is. And who can do you better?

It’s been awhile. Sorry about that. A lot has happened since I’ve last dawned these pages. I grew up a lot. Got smarter. Pushed myself. Stopped worrying about insignificant things. I read a lot. Took a lot of pictures. Thought about what’s going on the world, and had my house robbed. Life is good. I’ve been active on Friendfeed, and made a lot of friends there, natch. I’m still planning on going to SXSW this March to see some actual faces of these friends in the flesh. I’ve thought about my future, and what and where I need to be in the world. All good things, so no worries. Stay tuned. There’s a lot more to come. Much to discuss, and I promise I won’t take so long between updates. Oh, and how have you been?

Hi there. It’s been a while, I know, and I apologize for that. A lot’s happened. I think I needed some time to step back, reflect, make some adjustments before jumping back up on that blogging horse. So with that, why do I have baby fever? Like, bad, y’all. Bee Ay Dee.

This has all stemmed from all the Prop 8 stuff here in California. As I got involved and bitched, and blogged and posted, and donated money, the more I thought about defending the rights of gays and lesbians for the right to marry, it became apparent that I was don’t it in some abstract, intangible way. Me putting up the good fight wasn’t just for other gays and lesbians to get married, because I never saw myself getting married. I never considered it an option. I knew I was gay at an early age, and as a confirmed bachelor, I’d skate through life with maybe a cat and a room balanced between orchids and African violets. Because gays didn’t get married. They didn’t raise children, or have families. They rode on the win and hooked up with whomever they liked. Or so I thought.

This whole thing, this whole debacle about, “if a man wants to marry another man, or two women want to marry each other, why not stop at a someone wanting to marry a goat?” crap, or allowing one’s underwear to not just creep up one’s crack but to permanently lodge itself there forever and ever over why civil unions aren’t equivalent to marriage and obnoxious shit to that extent gave me the time to pull away and think about me in this whole equation. Not partnered, hardly dating, and fired up as all hell.

And then I thought about my parents (who never dated anyone other than themselves). I thought about how my mom’s folks and my dad’s folks, all knew each other, went to the same church, and hung out before they even had given birth to each of my parents. And that is my legacy. I am human. I am social, and no man is an island. Me looking at rectifying that has been huge.

At 35, a lot of my friends are married. Married, with children. I’m in the midst of some major changes in my life. And I’ve made my peace with finally saying goodbye to my late mother, and accepting that my father, who I love dearly, is someone I’m never going to get to know on the level in which I’d like. But, no matter. It’s work. I know it is. And potentially being a single parent is that much more work. A huge challenge. I never thought about life insurance (who has anything to leave to anyone?), or college educations, or immunizations, or chicken pox, or playdates. But I want to. I want more than what I have. I want what my parents had. And you probably have. And I just can’t wait.

The thing about what has become an issue of national importance with regards to Prop 8 in California is that it really isn’t a gay issue. It’s a fairness issue. About what’s right and wrong, and what’s fair and just.  People are pissed and upset and if you think that it’s just marginalized and maligned gays and lesbians you’re wrong.  Because if you think that Prop 8 would be defeated in California on the strength of the alleged ten percent of the population who categorize themselves as gay or lesbian, those numbers are going to fail every time.

So for this thing to be dealt with, handled, put on the table and discussed, it’s going to take more than just passionate gays who have had their rights stomped on. It’s going to take people who believe in things being just. People who feel everyone should be treated fairly, and people who don’t sit there and divide people into haves and have-nots: It’s going to take straight people.

So when someone like Keith Olbermann comes along like he did on the night of November 10th, and said what he said about Prop 8, it brought tears to my eyes. Because he gets it. This isn’t some clichéd and stereotypes group of “cock-hungry gays screwing around and wanting to be seen as real people, even though they could never commit to each other, or people being weary and skittish because they can’t handle the fact two men could willingly want to do-what-it-is-we-do to each other and as a result of that are wrongly and unfairly lumped into those who engage in pedophilia, polygamy, or bestiality. No, this is all really simple. It all comes down to love. Love between two people and I am thrilled that Keith Olbermann gets it.

I tip my hat to him for being honest, and smart, and passionate and articulate. I encourage you to watch this, and to pass it along to others. He says it far better than I ever could. Bravo.

All things considered, I honestly didn’t expect the feedback, emails, and comments I got from yesterday’s post. To everyone that took the time to read and pass along his or her wishes, I thank you. I was driving into work, mad and irritated about the Prop 8 voting results and more than anything really wanted to talk to my mom about what seems like blatant discrimination and for someone like her, to have endured the bulk of the civil rights movement, in the south, no less, made me felt like she would’ve understood my dilemma.

I never wanted to be one of these people who over-shared on the Internet, yet in looking back, that’s exactly what I’ve done. I’ve engaged in behavior I’m not proud of, done things in response that have given me a sense of personal redemption, and put up with shenanigans that no one should be privy to. But in all of this, in all of my craziness, I’ve only done it because I want what most people want: Something to belong to. This is all because of my impending singlehood, my quest for someone to share some sort of life with, and that’s what I think it all comes down to.

I’ve talked about change. And when I began this blog, I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted it to be. I wanted to give advice, be able to talk openly about relationships and sex in a way so people weren’t so uptight about it. I offered contests, talked about crazy one nightstands, terrible first dates, and falling in love with a city.  And as this country (and undoubtedly this world) goes through some changes, so do I. There are people who are far better at doing what I initially set out do, and don’t have to work nearly as hard to make it happen.  That doesn’t mean the end of Random Screaming–no, not at all. But with change on the minds of a lot of people, myself included, this blog will also go through some sort of metamorphosis.

I dare say it won’t veer too far off course, and by that, I mean I’ll use this as my jumping off point to rant and bitch and talk about the stuff that catches my eye.  I’m also in the midst of change. A new city, new job, new people, and all things new are on my horizon in the next 18-24 months, and I’m starting now. No time like the present, right?

So, with that, keep watching. We’ll see where we end up, and again, I appreciate you for taking the time to click your way here and see what I’m randomly screaming in your direction.

Dear Mom,

Today’s a tough day for me. If you were here, you wouldn’t believe what just happened. Never in my life did I think I’d have someone like Barack Obama leading this country. I know we have it good here, mama, better than people in a lot of other places, but it’s been tough lately. People losing their houses, being kicked out of jobs, but I’m hopeful. Optimistic, even; things are definitely changing around these parts.

But something else happened, and I know you’ve been gone for thirteen years; probably the most difficult thirteen years of my life, practically a third of it has been lived without you here, and that’s been really hard. Because I never told you I was gay, and I regret that I never opened my mouth about it more than anything. Part of me knows you probably knew. Mothers always do, don’t they? And I struggle with what might’ve happened between us had we actually talked about it. You were old school, Southern, black, and a product of your time. Maybe you would’ve been weary. But you also weathered the Civil Rights Era, saw hoses turned on people and undoubtedly endured hatred and judgment I hardly know the likes of—I think you would’ve shown compassion.

A lot has happened, so today is bittersweet. A black man in the highest office of the land can give one immeasurable confidence. By the same token, having something like the right to marry the one you love ripped away from you takes the sensation in the other direction.  I can’t explain it. Never tried to. I think about you and dad and how you never dated anyone other than each other, how your parents and dad’s parents knew each other before you were even born. The romantic in me swoons at that, mama. You really planted the seed with that.

I really want to settle down, give you some grandbabies, and live a simple life. I was always creative, always artsy, always sensitive. I like ice cream, and entertaining my friends, and living a good life. When these people here, these people who think they know me and want to define me, and want to protect marriage? Protect it from what, mama? I wish you were to here to answer. I wish you here so we could talk. I used to be so afraid, so fearful of what you’d think of me if you’d ever found out my secret. It used to paralyze me. But now I want you to know that I want a good man in my life. One you’d love, one that’d make you proud of me, and one to share a life with. That’s all I want. I wish I could give you one last hug, one last goodbye, and to tell you that I finally have made my peace with who I am. And these people here, that judge me and hate me? I’m not backing down. You taught me that. You gave me skills and taught me that the truth always comes to light, and I believe it.

Wherever you are, I miss you and love you and today is an incredible day. It’s also a bit somber, but you know I’m just like you. It’s going to take more than this ruling being overturned to stop me. The battle maybe have been fought, and even defeated, but I’m not stopping. I don’t know how to stop. I got that from you: twenty-three chromosomes and the spirit of unbridled horses.

Love,
Derrick

I don’t have to tell how important and historic a day like today is. Far more talented people have and can say it more eloquently and in ways that will put me to shame. Whatever the results are of today’s election, people have gotten more involved. Whether it was due to losing their home to foreclosure, or the threat of losing their ability to call their loved one and life partner their spouse, people have used the last eight years as a catalyst to get up and do something; to speak up and speak out; to be heard, and counted on, and that is an awesome thing to see.

I’m not immune to the impact of change. I started this blog because I had a bunch of straight women friends going through the obstacle course of dating in Los Angeles, and similarly, so did I. I told them to shape up, or ship that fucker out. To not put up with bullshit, to be respected and to be respectful, and if  it called for it, to get down right kinky. And in doing so, it was ok. You’re mom’s not going to find out about it, and if she does, who cares. How do you think you got here?

But then there’s that change thing.  I’ve been going through it myself. I’ve talked about giving my life a remix and moving up to San Francisco. I’ve talked about way risqué encounters, about my compulsory and embarrassing masturbation habits, guys on TV I wanted to fuck the shit out of, and others in real life I wanted to fuck the shit out of me. Yet through it all, with good times and laughter and fun, and depression, and misery and dealing with a father who I was scared to death of coming out to, in the end all I wanted was love.

Who doesn’t?  I romantically dream of cuddling in quilts on Sunday morning with the paper and a latte, and a soft-coated Wheaton terrier at my feet with the man of my dreams nuzzled up next to me, because I’m only human, and we’re social creatures, and these are the things that make up and define life for us.

And so the change continues. I’m aware of over-sharing on the internet, and I’m aware of the power of discussion. Starting this blog has been one of the best things I’ve ever done. I’ve met the coolest people, talked about the best topics, found myself intertwined and connected to the sites and social media networks I thought were strictly nerds only, and here I am a few short months from SXSW, constantly adding people to my Facebook, LOL’ing at people on Friendfeed, and busting out virtual neckrolls and bitchlips at people through my mobile Twitter. (Links are all over there on your left, people.)

Through it all, I’ve ventured on discovering me. The real me. Not my parent’s son. Not my brother’s little brother, not the boss’s go-to writer guy, but the Derrick who has just started to define himself by his own rules. Y’know, that whole change thing.

If this sounds like some kind of elegy, let me assure you it’s not. Well, not really. At my core, I’m still a perv who is into blindfolds and blowjobs, but there’s more to me than that. Shocking, I know.

Because we evolve, we ebb and flow, we move like liquid through a vessel, and through it all, we change.

It hit me the other day. I was active in yet another social media/networking site, this one called Friendfeed (that I really love, btw), and I read a post from a guy who’s around my age, married with a couple kids, doing fine with his career, and come across as generally happy and good natured. He’s got funny things to say, I like his music selections (a lot of this information is collected and aggregated in Friendfeed, which is kind of the point), and he laughs at my quips and conjecture.

He posted something about going in to read his son a bedtime story right after he finished wrapping up some techy/bloggy/net-esque work, and when he went in, his young son had already fallen asleep, the book still open on the bed. Said father placed the book back on the shelf, tucked his son in, and sweetly kissed him goodnight.

Now this might be me PMS-ing, and I realize it comes across a little Hallmark card-ish, but I’m sensitive like that and the image got to me. You see, as a gay man, I never really thought about what my life might be like after age thirty or so.  At 16, when it was clear that I was destined for a life of “confirmed bachelorhood”, I took it as my fate and lived my life resigned to it. But seeing that post, that small, idyllic, Rockwellian post, something resonated within me. Seeing that, made me realize that as busy as I’ve been campaigning for the No on 8 proposition here in California which would continue to keep gay marriage legal here isn’t just something I’m doing for same-sex couples in theory. While I never thought myself to be one to settle down (fingers crossed for just a nice guy to date at the moment), reading that tidbit made me realize this Ozzie and Harriet, Cosby Show life isn’t something that heterosexuals hold the patent on.

On my first couple days of Friendfeed, besides telling everyone I was a big homo, I also found myself engaged in discussions on race, politics, homosexuality, gay marriage, etc. And one particular dialogue made me really sad. A guy (I wished I kept the transcript) said something along the lines of, “Marriage is between a man and a woman, that’s it. If two men or two women want to get together, fine, but its not marriage, and I shouldn’t be called a bigot for thinking otherwise.” Fine, we won’t call you a bigot, even though that’s what you are, and if you want to be hung up over this word, then fine, but the implication that marriage should be something possessed, claimed, and executed only by straight people (50% divorce rates, Britney Spears escapades of 54-hour quickie nuptials, and convicts getting married to pen pals while behind bars) just irritates the shit out of me.

So what it comes down to, other than this “word” is what it always comes down to when you talk about gays: People have this thing about two guys butt-fucking. They really do. They can’t handle that two men fuck the shit out of each other and suck each other off, and because we do, the world for us should be different. The whole entire concept of marriage shouldn’t be something we can engage in, even though two committed people in love want to be together. Really?

The fight will continue, and eventually gays and lesbians will be free to marry and the image of that boy sleeping in his bed and kissed by his father won’t just be a dream, but a reality for even people like me who thought that life was never even an option.