A lot has happened in my life in the past 140 days…
For one thing, I came out!
Not the big “coming out” with glitter and boas and jazz hands and my mom crying (that was several years ago), but about a month ago, I came out to one group of friends… as a rice queen.
If you’re at all familiar with this blog, you may have figured already that I am an aspiring writer. Specifically, my focus is on screenwriting, so every couple weeks I get together with a group of fellow writers to go over each other’s scripts, talk about new ideas we’ve had, and just shoot the shit. Now, I’ve been in this group for nearly 4 years and although they know that I’m gay, they didn’t know that I’m a rice queen. (You’d think the fact that each of my scripts includes an obligatory hot shirtless Asian would have been a tipoff.)
These writers meetings are occasionally held at my apartment where in the course of the past 12 months I’ve lived with 3 different Asian guys. Finally, one of my writer friends was compelled to very tastefully draw attention to the pattern of my homosexual Asian cohabiters and politely ask if there were any sort of particular explanation. It went something along the lines of “Dude, what’s with all the Gaysians? Is this like some kind of fetish?”
Oh boy… My mind was racing for the simplest way to satisfy his curiosity without spawning a whole new line of questioning. I felt like a Catholic being asked to explain to a Jew how the holy trinity is still monotheistic… It could have gone on for hours and only ended in me coming off as some semantic wizard and him walking away confused.
Yes, I like Asian guys, but a fetish implies objectification which I find offensive when used with whole groups of people. Well yeah, I’ve really only ever dated Asian guys, but I’m not like those creepy old white guys who have young “boyfriends” in Thailand, although I’ll acknowledge that in the broadest terms, we do share a common object of desire. No, I don’t mean Asian guys are “objects” – it’s just a phrase!
I knew the longer my internal debate drew on, the more awkward any response would appear, so I spouted out the most concise thing I could think of:
“You should just check out my blog sometime.”
The key word there was “sometime” – as in, hopefully-by-the-time-you-get-home-you’ll-have-forgotten-we-had-this-conversation sometime. But I knew perfectly well that you can’t give a juicy web address like ConfessionsOfARiceQueen.com to a man with a laptop in hand and expect anything but for him to check it out that second.
I immediately regretted it.
What had I just admitted to? What would they think of me? I started to turn red with preemptive embarrassment. But in that moment of fear, it occurred to me that it wasn’t the content of the blog that I found most embarrassing… it was the lack of content.
As the site loaded and my friends began scrolling through the headlines and photos while laughing hysterically at my expense, I made no disclaimers or apologies about the blog’s riceyness or queenyness, but instead began doing damage control for why the most recent blog post was over three months old.
My internet’s been acting up, you can’t blog without the internet, right? Oh, and my laptop is really old and the fan is starting to go and the air conditioner in my room is broken and the horrible property managers never fix anything in a timely manner, I wouldn’t want my hard drive to melt. But don’t worry, I have soooo many ideas, I just couldn’t pick one to write next, I need to think about it a bit longer, so technically I have been blogging… in my brain.
I stopped short of “the dog ate my blog post” and finally admitted that laziness, plain and simple, was the real reason the blog hadn’t been updated in months.
“Hasn’t been updated in months? Sounds like a blog to me!” was his response which actually made me feel a little better. Then another group member brought up that he too had a blog that he hadn’t updated in almost a year – that made me feel even better. As we laughed about how blogs usually start off with a bang then wane down, I was feeling pretty good about my blog own again. I wasn’t a bad blogger, I was the very definition of a blogger!
And suddenly, that’s what scared me the most.
For months, every time somebody subscribed to the blog, posted a comment, or sent me an email, I was wracked with guilt about not having written anything new. Then, in the course of this one group meeting – a group I’m in because I want to be a professional writer – I had accepted that not writing was satisfactory behavior.
If I’m gonna be any sort of writer worth his salt, I should damn well be capable of a few hundred words of gay entertainment more often than once in 4 months. Heck, the writers of Glee produce a whole hour of gay entertainment every week.
Whether screenwriting or blogging, I write for an audience, which is why I want to sincerely thank everyone who has read, commented, subscribed to, posted on Facebook, or even just skimmed through the pictures on this site. Without all of you, this blog would be nothing more than my private diary (and I haven’t updated that in years). I feel like I owe you all an apology for disappearing, but more importantly I owe you a promise of regular content in the future.
A lot will happen in my life in the next 140 days… and I’ll be right here blogging about it.