Morning, gentle readers,

I’m just not in the Christmas spirit this year.

A Christmas Carol with Jim Carrey, directed by Robert Zemeckis almost put me in the mood, but didn’t quite do it. It’s a wonderful movie, by the way, with beautiful animation, stunning acting, and is a really wonderful adaptation of the classic Christmas story.

I’ve been trying to figure out what’s keeping me from it. Although I don’t identify as Christian, and haven’t for many years; the celebrations at this time of year, are much older than Christianity, and are not just limited to that faith. Normally, I enjoy a holiday camaraderie with my fellow man, and enjoy the hope that along with the rebirth of the sun’s cycle around the earth, this will be the year when we will all learn how to treat our fellows a bit better, and become a kinder, gentler and more giving people.

This year, I haven’t been able to access any of that. The most accurate description of what’s in my heart seems to be when I say “my favorite part of Christmas is when it’s over.”

The season’s hope has been buried under the morass of fear and anger lodged in my heart. It’s about to become punishable by death to be gay in Uganda, and a good portion of people who call themselves religious people, even here in this country, shrug their shoulders, point at Leviticus as justification, and go on about their day. In state after state, people are voting to bar gay folks from getting legally married to a partner of their choice to protect their legal and familial rights. Because heaven forbid, two people of the same gender who love each other, and want to protect each other from the world should get a bit of help from society. It’s bad enough that supposedly devout, pious religious leaders can stand in their pulpits and call us the most vile of names in the name of God, but continually stripping away and denying of human rights seems to be the cause du jour.

Somebody who is virulently anti-gay, described homosexuality as “one man violently cramming his penis into another man’s lower intestine and calling it ‘love.’” See http://americansfortruth.com/news/liberty-counsel-may-lead-pullout-of-cpac-if-homosexual-group-goproud-remains-as-co-sponsor.html. Not to mention the liberal use of standard fare like “sinful” “evil” “aberrant,” etc. Upon hearing this, I thought to myself, “Really? That’s all that love is about in their world? The physical act of fucking? That’s it? And it’s violent?” Maybe I'm not the only one who needs therapy.

More and more, the religion of the Christ seems to be more about hatred towards anybody that’s even a bit different, and the guilt-free beating of other people (physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually) than anything else. Scarily enough, the more they hate and try to hurt me and those like me, the more I feel backed into a corner, trapped by an angry mob, and the more I contemplate giving back in kind. The more I hate. The more I rail against divinity, in any form. I find myself running just as fast as I can from any type of religious teachings these days. My gut reaction when somebody says anything even remotely religious is “fuck you and the god you rode in on.”

I don’t want to be that guy. The red eyed, angry, bitchy, temperamental and increasingly hateful man who takes offense at everything. It’s not good for my soul. I’m trying to learn how to love better, not hate more. I’m trying to be more accepting for the foibles and the glorious humanity of those around me, and to patiently work to make the world a better place.

“Trying” is the operative phrase in the above paragraph. My confession to you today is that I’m not doing particularly well at any of those things right now.

For those of you who say that the Ugandan legislation is in Africa, and that it could never happen here in the United States, I’ll remind you that the German folks said the same thing in the earlier part of the last century.

I wonder why I’m frightened.

Having said all of that, I'm trying to find a LGBT organization to do some volunteer work for on Christmas Day. Might as well turn my fear to something positive.

Travis

Good evening, folks,

I just got home and checked the mail and found out that Citibank is raising the interest rate on my credit card (which I have NEVER been late on, and as a matter of fact have a balance about half of my limit) from a fixed rate of 9.99% to an APR of 29.99%. That's an increase of 20%. TWENTY PERCENT. Their explanation is that to continue to provide customers with access to credit, they have to adjust their pricing. 20% is, in my opinion, usurious charges. I closed my account to lock in the current rate that I have so I can pay it off. Oh, get this, they have a program that let's me get a credit for 10% of that interest if I make my minimum payment on time. Even taking into account that lovely little program, it's still a raise of TEN PERCENT.

I was told to have a happy holiday season.

Citibank can kiss my ass this holiday season.

Travis

Is anybody else loving Glee like I am. I'm so mad I forgot to record the whole episode last night, as I was at a show, but SO happy that I got to see this clip. I was so happy I literally cried. I'm a freak. ;)



Travis

Good afternoon, gentle readers,

As most of you know, Xie's mom, Kathleen, passed away. I find myself very sad about it. For Xie, because I know how much she loved her mother and how much she will miss her. But I'm also sad for myself.

I've known Xie's mom for as long as I've known Xie. 12 years now? Somewhere around there. Almost every time I'd see Xie, I'd see Kathleen. She was a lovely lady with a sparkle in her eye and a quick laugh that I've always associated with the Irish. She always had a smile and a great big hug for me. She's one of those people who seems to listen when in a conversation, and to care about what one says. She loved her dogs as much as Xie did, and I was privileged to be able to go on many walks with her and the dogs on the occasions I got to visit.

I must admit that I was always a bit jealous of the caring relationship Xie and Kathleen had. Now, I'm no fool, and I know they had their squabbles and differences on occasion. But they always seemed to be there for each other, and able to count on each other. A real blessing.

I once remarked to Xie that Kathleen was the only straight person I'd consider taking on a gay cruise because I was absolutely sure we'd have a BLAST!!

After hearing that she was sick and very close to the end, I had a dream, as I often do, given the medications I have to take. I woke in tears, and thinking that in my heart of hearts, I thought of her as "San Franciscan Royalty." Now, that didn't make sense at the time, but as I thought about it, it does. She and her family are native San Franciscans, and although I don't live in that end of the state, I always sort of look up to them as my link to San Francisco's (and therefor California's) old-guard. As far as the royalty part goes, one only needed to have spoken with Kathleen about her city to get how much a part of it she was, and how much a part of her it was.

Most of all, her passing, while sad, has given me yet another occasion to remember how much I truly love her daughter, and how grateful I am that she is my friend. One of my best friends. A special woman and friend that I look up to and honor every day. I hope she knows that.

Rest in Peace, Kathleen, you will be missed more than you know, and thank you for being a part of my life.

Afternoon, gentle readers,

I had an echocardiogram of and a stress test on my heart done this morning.

( Read more. )

Anybody recognize the judge? ;)



Travis

Morning, folks,

Well, we didn't get the best of reviews from Backstage West for Snoopy the Musical. Here's the part that pertains to me.

"Travis Terry seems a bit long in the tooth to be playing Charlie Brown, but after the initial impression, he nimbly captures the key elements of the fatalistic but resilient Charlie."

Oh, no he didn't just call me old!!!

Travis

Hiya, gentle readers,

It's been a while since I've posted, and I've got some great stuff. :)

1. I am officially a homeowner. Escrow closed on "la casa de Travis and his cats" last Friday. My hands shook and I could barely talk in cohesive sentences while signing loan documents, but it's all done. I have the keys and everything. :)

2. The cats are safely esconced in the new place, although Phred tried to kill me during the move, and he almost is too heavy to carry. I really have to figure out how to get him to lose some weight without the other two cats getting frighteningly thin.

2. Last night, I did the final walk-through with the landlord of my old place. After 17 years between my ex-wife and I, the place is finally back in the hands of the landlord. I've spent at least 12 of those years worrying about how that particular meeting would go because let's face it, the house isn't in the best of shape, even though I did make many repairs myself over the years. I've carried a lot of shame and guilt over that, so transferred much of that onto this final walk-through. As life would have it, the meeting was uneventful and the landlord was very nice and friendly and didn't complain about anything. When I left I thought, "that was anticlimactic AND a waste of 12 years of worry."

3. I had a great audition for the part of Charlie Brown in Snoopy the Musical. It's my first singing audition in probably a decade, and I did really, really well.

4. P.S. -- I found out Saturday that I'll be playing Charlie Brown in said musical. It's the first time I've been in a musical theater show and have my own song since I was in high school. Wahoo!!! I rock!!!

5. I sang at my friend Louahn's piano party for her piano and vocal students on Sunday. I sang "What More Can I Say" from Falsettos. I got a tad bit scared when I saw how many children were there, and more specifically their parents, some of which I was told were very conservative. The song is a gay song, and I was going to talk a bit about gay pride which was coincidently the same day here in Los Angeles. Seeing all the kids (and their parents) though, I changed my mind and just basically sang the song, and let it speak for itself. I don't know why. Perhaps it would have been more politically correct and helpful to chat about it a bit. I guess inate fear of conflict stepped in. The next day, Louahn said that the most straight laced and serious of her kids said that my song was his favorite, and that he wants to learn how to play it on the piano. She wonders if he is questioning his sexuality. I felt really good when I heard that. If he is, maybe I helped to let him know he's not alone, something I would have appreciated as a teenager.

Anywhosy, I've got a pile of filing on my desk about a foot high. Gotta get back to it.

Take care.

Travis

May 29, 2009

President Barack Obama
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW
Washington, DC 20500

Re: Marriage and Civil Equality

President Obama,

I am writing to express to you my strong personal support for marriage equality and civil right for the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered minorities in this country, and how very important it is to me and others like me to put our national attention on these important issues.

First of all, I hope that you and your family are doing well adjusting to your new household and duties in Washington, D.C. I doubt that you’ll actually have the time to read this letter yourself, and that is understandable, given the magnitude of your job. However, I hope that whichever of your staff members gets to read this will pass some of this information along to you, as I truly feel it is important.

You don’t know me, Mr. President. I am neither rich nor powerful nor do we run in the same circles. By way of introduction, I’ll say that I’m a fairly ordinary man living life and following my dreams in the big city of Los Angeles.

As a teenager, I discovered that I was gay. It was quite the shock for me at first, and eventually for my family when I told them at the age of 19. I always figured that although I was romantically interested in members of the same gender, I would follow the same general life paths as my brothers and sister. You’re familiar with those paths, I’m sure: spouse, career, house ownership, joint checking account, worrying about the bills, a pet or three, the difficult choice of whether to have kids or not, how to take care of my parents as they get older, and making my difference in the world. The list goes on.

The paths you may not be as familiar with are those that I didn’t share with my siblings. Learning how to be truthful with my friends, family and the world about being different from the rest of them tops the list. It was a difficult and liberating journey. Learning how to live in the sunlight, rather than in the darkness of secrets, fears and despair took a long time. I dealt with an HIV diagnosis in my early 20's, a subsequent drug addiction and recovery. I’ve not only lived with these issues over the past 20 years but managed to thrive. I tell you these things not for you to feel sorry for me, but to help you understand both the differences and similarities of our lives.

Through all of this, Mr. President, I always hoped and dreamed that I would find the man that could share my heart and my home. I’ll tell you a bit of a secret. I haven’t been that successful in finding him yet. But I keep the hope and dream alive because I’m stubborn enough to believe that if things like HIV and drug addiction can’t kill me or my joy for life, then finding the man of my dreams is possible, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up on that part of a nurturing and vibrant life.

After the recent California Supreme Court decision came down regarding Prop 8, I realized that I had certain assumptions about being an American. The first assumption being that as an American, my fellow citizens considered my constitutional rights and freedoms to mean as much as their own. The passage of Proposition 8 was the latest and loudest of proofs that I was wrong. I also assumed that the American system of checks and balances would be sure that I would not be deprived of those rights. I was quite shocked to find out that even those learned judges assumed differently.

Marriage is a pretty fundamental issue to me. Humans are social animals, and I am no different. The freedom to pair up with another person in love and support in order to face the slings and arrows that the world throws at us is pretty important. When our fundamental relationships are denied, spit upon and preached against by not only the churches, but people at the voting booths, and politicians in office, life becomes much more difficult and hateful than it needs to be. Listening to the constant hatred that is preached and aimed at me and those like me is wearing at best, and life depriving at worst, and I can’t help but wonder how many lives would be saved or able to find more of their potential if we didn’t have to worry about fighting for our right to love and our fundament rights enjoyed by the rest of our society.

Mr. President, I live and work and love in this great country and world we live in, just like my straight brothers and sisters. I need the same rights and protections as they do. It’s not about mere want or desire, it’s about need and fairness.

When you were elected, you were elected as the hope of a country who had lost that hope. I’m grateful to have had that hope rekindled. I still hope. Can you help us so my right to a loving relationship and that relationship itself can be recognized and supported by the government which is made by the people and for the people ... people like me.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Travis Terry

Hiya, gentle readers,

I ganked this from joe.my.god.



Travis

Hiya, folks,

The offer I put in on the townhouse I wanted has gone through, and escrow is opening today.

I'm so grateful and excited ... now just gotta get through escrow without losing what's left of my sanity.

Travis

Morning, gentle readers,

I'm a bit stressed.

It's hell week, and I have three more rehearsals 'til Fuente Ovejuna opens. It's going to be a great show, but I went up so badly on my lines last night, I had to be fed a line by the director sitting in the house. Haven't done that in years. Hate that.

I'm a bit stressed.

It's been 4 weeks since I put the offer in on a townouse, and I'm still waiting to hear on whether they have accepted it or not. Apparently, short sales and REO's are not the way to go if you actually want to buy a house. They are, however, the way to go if you want to wait and wonder if you're going to buy a house. Have I mentioned I hate waiting and wondering?

I'm a bit stressed.

The job is a bit overwhelming at the moment, for reasons I won't go into.

All of this has made me a bit jumpy, impatient and snappy with fellow co-workers today.

I'm a bit tired.

See above reference to hell week.

So, I'm hereby acknowledging that I'm not playing with a full deck of cards today, and that I'm going to be conscious of that, and do my damndest to not take it out on anybody else.

Pray for me.

Travis

Current Mood: stressed

OMG,

This had me laughing so hard, I was sobbing with tears running down my face.



Travis

Good morning, gentle readers,

For a long time I've had problems with my kitchen faucet. It leaks, and then it stops leaking, and then it pours. It eventually gets to the point where I call the landlord, and maybe, if I'm lucky, manage to get him out to fix it. It seems to always coincide with weather changes, and I have no idea why, anymore than I have any idea why the lock on my front door knob stops catching in the spring and fall, but is fine in the winter and summer.

Anyway, two days ago the hot water side of the faucet started leaking, and very soon started pouring so badly that I had to turn the water to the house off to stop it or I was going to get a friendly visit from Noah and his collection of heterosexual animal pairings in their new, state of the art, cruise ship.

So yesterday, I gritted my teeth, called the landlord and left a message, letting him know about the issue. You see, I was secretly hoping to schedule his plumber type person to come out early this morning to fix it. Because yes, indeed, I do work for a living between the hours of 9 and 5 and waiting for said plumber-type person for the entire day is difficult, at best, especially if landlord wants to receive monthly rental payment.

Please note that said landlord still has not returned my telephone call.

This morning I turned the water back on, and started doing dishes, making sure to carefully watch the level of water in the sink to make sure nothing overflows. Because remember the faucet can't be turned off. After a close call, I finally said, "screw this! I don't care if I have to call in late to work, I'm going to get this frickin' faucet fixed." Even though I've never actually seen the inside of a faucet. In my defense working faucets are rarely used on the sets of theater stages, although I did see one in a production of Macbeth on Broadway. I digress.

Hmmm, how do I do this? Aha! That's why the Goddess made the internet! Now, you might argue that She made the internet for porn. I concede that information about how to fix a leaky faucet might hvae just been a secondary benefit to the whole internet phenomenon.

I googled "how to fix a leaky faucet," and after briefly reading the steps involved, I decided to bravely sally forth. I turned the water to the house off, and pulled out my handy-dandy tool kit. My brilliant plan was to pull out the old deficient parts and take them with me to Home Depot, get the exact same parts and bring them back. Relatively stress-free. I might even keep what little hair I have left on top of my head. This could work!

So, I take the handle off the faucet. Easy enough, it's only one screw, and, voila! the handle comes off. Yay! Step 1 done.

Then comes the hard part. I have to unscrew the thingy-mabob that's attached to the whatchamajigger. Yes, those are the technical names for it. If they aren't, I don't want to know about it. Got that? Good.

Anyway, I pull out one of my shiny, bright and only once used pair of pliers and unscrew the thingy-mabob. It comes off pretty easily, which surprises me a little, because I'm expecting all the screws to get stripped. That's just the way I roll. I pull out the thingy-mabob and look at the bottom. The screw that's supposed to be holding the hard rubber ring in place is barely hanging on. I have the brilliant idea to tighten the screw so everything is all snug. I think to myself, "That can't possibly be the answer, but might as well try it." So, I screw the thingy-mabob back onto the whatchamajigger, screw the handle back on, and with the tiniest bit of hope, I go outside and turn the water to my bungalow back on.

I come back in, and guess what? Not only is there not a leak, but there is not even the tiniest of drops of water coming out of the faucet. I've never seen it so drip-free. I put my tool box back, and begin to do the ancient tribal man dance around the kitchen, while singing, "Oh yeah, who's your daddy?"

I think I definitely deserve a day at the spa celebrating. Maybe a massage or a mud bath. Ooh, I know, a manicure!

Travis

Good evening, folks,

I saw this posted on joe.my.god's blog, and couldn't help but repost it on my journal.

Sweet song, and really beautiful, romantic real images of all kinds of folks in love.

Although it offends my jaded cynical heart to say it, Happy Valentine's Day, y'all.



Travis

P.S. -- the title of the post refers to the Singer/Songwriter Tom Goss, whose eyes are remarkable.

This made me cry.


"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

Travis

Good evening, gentle readers,

Today is my 41st birthday, and I'm very grateful for all the people who have given me such wonderful wishes. It's been a really good day. :)

It's also the time for me to mark the 19th anniversary of an HIV positive diagnosis. It was 1990, and I was 22. I had very little hope at that time that I would make it to 30, given the medical technology that existed. But contrary to the fears of the time, here I am: alive, kicking and very busy annoying the world. Hell, my disease is old enough to vote, and fairly soon will be old enough to drink.

It's a time of reflection, and I wish I could say that even after all this time, I've completely adjusted to it. But I can't. I also wish I could say that I have put all regrets about it behind me. I can't say that either. Lately, for some reason, I've been acutely wishing that I could go back, undo that part of my past and live my life as a completely healthy man. I wish I could undo the behaviors that led to the disease, and I wish I could undo my unhealthy reactions and irresponsible behaviors that followed the news. I haven't been able to excise the feelings of being dirty and untouchable either. That process is still ongoing.

It has gotten better though, and I continue to make strides toward better integration of the consequences of my current and and past mistakes, the realities of my life as it exists now, and the very real joys and blessings I enjoy. I also think that I've done a pretty good job at surviving with a hefty amount of joy and laughter, and that I do a good job at putting one foot in front of the other and doing my best to continue my life's journeys and lessons without curling up into a corner and letting life pass me by without grabbing as much of it as I can. I also think that I've been blessed with some wonderful people in my life.

So, while this day every year may be on the bitter and melancholy side for me, it's also a joyous day for which I am grateful and happy to have survived in order to celebrate.

Be blessed and remember life is a gift, and a fragile one at that.

Travis

Afternoon, gentle readers,

Last night about 1:30 a.m., two people from the bar up the street were standing in front of the fence to my bungalow, talking very loudly, and keeping me awake. Obviously, alcohol had been added into the mix. When the woman said something about "the smallest vibrator in the world", I had had enough. I got up, stuck my head out my front door and yelled, "SHUT UP!!" I closed the door and on my way back to bed, I heard the guy say, "Now, THAT's funny."

Definitely time to move.

Travis

Aunt ______,

Thank you for the message that you left on my cell phone voice mail the other day.

I haven’t responded because I haven’t quite been sure how to respond, and needed to put some thought into an appropriate and honest answer.

The question was am I still mad at you after our e-mail exchange about the forwarding of conservative political e-mails to me during the election, which I had asked you not to do. The short answer is that I’m not still particularly mad at you.

The longer answer, and the answer that I have been struggling to put into words, is that I am indeed angry. I have been angry, incredibly hurt and grief-stricken ever since the election and the passage of Proposition 8, which took away, however short-lived, the right for me to get married to a person of my choice legally (not religiously) in California. I’ve been angry at the millions of people who voted for the Proposition. I’ve been especially angry with the religious and civil “leaders” who have led their flocks on this issue with outright lies. I’ve been angry at the religious leaders who continually belittle people like me, compare us to criminals, pedophiles and other things even more horrible. I’ve been hurt by the hatred thinly veiled by “we love you” directed towards me and people like me. I’m continuously frightened by the increasing amount of people who think that it’s okay to abuse me and those like me with hateful words, fists, bats and guns. I’m increasingly angry at religious folk who continuously beat me over the metaphorical head with their own interpretations of sacred writings. I’m also in awe how the legal protection and recognition of a partnership between two mutually consenting adults can compare to the issues such as poverty, disease, homelessness, and violence which are rampant in our world, and which are willfully ignored by the self-professed righteous and pious. I’m angry at the people that I know personally, who I have had personal relationships with, who know me, and my story, who publicly and loudly voted to strip me of a fundamental equal right. Lastly, I wonder how many precious lives would have been saved from suicide and disease if gay relationships had been recognized and supported.

I’ve been struggling since the election because I am finding it hard to follow what I believe is the highest commandment communicated to me, and that is to love better and more completely. Love, a word much bandied about in our society, is difficult at best, and downright impossible at worst, and I’ve been on a long journey to learn how to implement it into my life. Proposition 8 took the wind out of my sails, and I found myself so angry, hurt and scared that I wondered if I had permanently lost the ability to love and trust. Fortunately, I’m not easily broken, and I’m slowly regaining those abilities.

I’ve spent the past twenty years keeping my mouth shut out of “respect” for people who believed that I’m a sinner because of the gender that I’m attracted to. Those days are over. My fondest hope is that I can be respectful about it, but the purpose of this e-mail is to at least give you the opportunity to understand what the outcome of the passage of Proposition 8 did to me and to people like me.

Today, we swore in a new president of the United States, and I found myself praying for the first time in a long time. My prayers, 90% of the time, are simply “thank you for the abundance in my life” and “please help me to be a more loving, kinder and gentler man.” Let’s just say that if I had a dollar for every time I’ve prayed those prayers, I could probably own my own state. Today, those prayers included a hope for our world. I pray that Mr. Obama can help lead us to a more just and understanding society. One in which I don’t have to feel like people like me are the last acceptable repository of hatred and violence.

Be well, and I’ll see you soon.

Travis

Morning, folks,

Sometimes I'm such a soft touch. Started crying at this news story that got sent to me this morning.



Travis