A new semester at LSU.

The beginning of a new semester is always hectic--lots of paperwork to feed the bureaucracy, lots of planning for my own academic endeavors, lots of preparation for teaching. Still, I'm done with coursework as of last fall, and I haven't yet begun to prepare for the general exams I'll be taking in a few weeks.
For right now, all I have to do at LSU is teach--something I love to do. Not only do I like teaching for all the conventional reasons, but also because it's an escape for me. When I'm doing my thing in the classroom, everything else fades into the background. I'm there, I'm focused on interacting with my students, and I'm concentrating on what my students need and what I need to do to deliver it. As those of you who've been in the classroom as a teacher know well, this often involves a lot of backtracking and sidetracking, frequent changes of plans, and quick thinking. Today, in my second Performance of Literature class, this process led me to do something I'd practically vowed not to do in the classroom.
From a pedagogical point of view, I never saw the value in revealing my sexual orientation to my students. If it doesn't create a "teachable moment," my thinking went, there's no reason to bring it into the class. Aside from that, I believe that in most of life's circumstances, a person's orientation is of negligible importance. In this case, however, I found a different reason to come out to my students--an incidental one.
I was introducing the concept of blending performance with literature to the class. As an example, I pulled Frost's "Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening" out of the air. For reference (and because I've always loved the poem):

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

I talked about the most common analytical interpretation of the poem--that it provides a metaphor for the contemplation of suicide. Then I discussed my personal interpretive preference for the poem--a literal reading built around what I think are simple, beautiful images of passing near a quiet, snowy forest at night, and the fleeting sense of Taoist solitude that I find in Frost's words. I encouraged the class to contemplate how these two interpretations might alter an individual's performance of the poem.
Several students got hung up on how one might go about performing an interpretation like the second one without using sign language or playing charades with the audience. I told them that the core of such a performance would need to be grounded in personal memory and experience. "Like....what?" one student asked, frowning.
Now, hypotheticals aren't my style. I tend to prepare extensively and then provide lecture examples on the fly, and I've grown accustomed to responding to questions that way. The first thought that came to my mind as I groped for examples of what I might use to create the physical aspects of a performance of "Woods" was...the stand of trees behind Bob's house in Massachusetts.

Behind Bob's house, there's a dell filled with beautiful trees. You can see it from his kitchen window, and I once told Bob that I would love to be there in the winter to see the snow falling through the branches. Some months later, in the winter when I was back home in Baton Rouge, Bob aimed his web cam at the dell so that I could see the snow fall. I played George Winston's December album while I watched the snow at my computer. I've still never seen snow like that in person, and I can only imagine the sound and the feeling of being in such a place with the snow. Maybe it's better in my imagination than it would be in reality, but that's beside the point--the image in my mind fits perfectly with the grandeur, melancholy, seclusion, passivity, and engagement I feel in Frost's poem.

I wanted to tell my students all this, to use it as a concrete example of a personal experience that I might use as a starting point for developing a performance. The example came to me as a narrative, and it never occurred to me to present it in any other fashion. After a quick inner debate, I mentally slapped myself on the wrist for hesitating and told the class the story. Beginning with "My ex-fiance Bob has a stand of trees just beyond his backyard...." I went on to tell them about looking at the trees while making jambalaya for our supper, and about how Bob aimed his web cam at the trees in winter for me. I talked about the significance of this memory, and about why I link it to the images in "Woods". And then, of course, I went on with the lesson. (Side note: Putting "ex-" in front of anything referencing Bob still bugs me, but I can't seem to find an accurate and workable solution to this vexation.)
Afterward I wondered what, if anything, my class thought about this whole episode. I've become accustomed to surprise and even shock as reactions when I come out, so it felt strange to do it in a situation in which the listeners might feel constrained to limit their responses.
To be honest, I'm not even sure why this feels important enough to write about. And yet, I'm fairly sure that it is important. I'm also fairly sure that now that I've done it once, I'll want to do it again--pedagogical theory be damned. I don't know why that is, either. But for right now, I'm content to just let it be.

Recipe: Chicken & Cornbread Casserole.

Last week my mom passed a new recipe along to me. I modified it a bit, and liked it a lot--it makes for a quick, fairly painless, homemade supper.

2 ribs celery, chopped
1/2 medium onion, chopped
4 cps packed crumbled cornbread (Two boxes of Jiffy corn muffin mix is perfect; the original recipe called for 2 cups of cornbread and 1 tbsp of poultry seasoning, but I wanted more. I firmly believe that everyone should eat more cornbread.)
2 tbsp poultry seasoning
4 cps chopped cooked chicken (I used a couple of roasted chickens purchased from a grocery store and saved the extra in the freezer for jambalaya.)
1-1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth (Homemade broth always tastes better--but store-bought is way easier.)
1 cp low-fat sour cream
1 lg egg, lightly beaten
1 jar sliced mushrooms, drained
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper
1/4 tsp salt
2 tbsp butter, melted
1 cp sharp cheddar cheese, shredded

Sauté celery and onion in hot oil in a medium skillet for 7 minutes, until tender. Combine cornbread and poultry seasoning in a large bowl. Layer half of the cornbread mixture on the bottom of a greased baking dish or a cast iron Dutch oven. Combine the onion and celery mixture and the next 6 ingredients (chicken, broth, sour cream, egg, mushrooms, red pepper, and salt) in a bowl and mix together. Layer over the cornbread. Top with remaining cornbread mixture and drizzle with butter.
Cover and bake at 350° for 30 minutes, until bubbly. Top with cheese and bake uncovered for 10 minutes.

A lining of silver.

In past years, a week like this would probably have caused me to take to my bed in a dysfunctional attempt to sleep away stress. I'm giving credit to a combination of hard-earned wisdom and Lexapro. What's up, you ask? Here's a quick list:

1. Orientation and the start of class at LSU. Nothing big in and of itself--except that I've had little time to prepare to start teaching next week. At one time, this was the ONLY thing I had to worry about this time of year. How I miss those days of youthful naivete. :-)
2. My job at The Princeton Review. I took a second job to stave off financial difficulties (see number 3 below). Initially, it was going to be standard test prep and tutoring. Right before training started, I was asked to work in a new and experimental program, teaching ACT preparation to students at an underperforming high school as a contractor for the school board. I agreed to this, mainly because I was excited by the opportunity to help some of the kids improve their scores enough to make it into a better college. I'm still excited by the potential to do this, but with each passing day it's becoming harder to convince myself that the decision was a smart one. The rotating block schedule that Istrouma High uses is bizarrely complex (even the teachers there have little clue what's going to happen in the next week). Partially because of that, prep time for teaching there is a huge burden--yet I am only in the classroom (and getting paid) 10-15 hours a month. At $15/hour, that's...not enough.
3. Financial crap. Again. The combined total of my LSU and Princeton Review paychecks isn't enough to cover my basic monthly expenses. And no, I don't have cable or any other frivolous stuff. The main culprit is rent, which has skyrocketed since Katrina. So I went to see the financial aid folks at LSU. Surprise! I am very close to the allowable aggregate for graduate students--which means two things: 1) The $1000 I got this semester is it. Period. No more financial aid for me. Ever. I've never qualified for grants for some reason, so I don't expect them in the future. 2) I owe $130,000 in student loans. Now, I was aware that my students loan total was frighteningly large; I just tried not to think about it, since there was nothing practical I could do to fix it. I was NOT aware, however, that I'd reached the loan cap. Paying off $130,000 isn't even the most immediately worrisome thing here; instead, I'm wondering how I'm going to juggle the obvious need for a third job with the need to finish my dissertation and get the hell off this merry-go-round. I'm also wondering how I'm going to pay my bills this month, but that always seems to work itself out somehow.

I suppose that this list could be officially categorized as whining. But for me, the biggest thing is that I'm not freaking out. I'm a fairly competent teacher (I actually think I'm pretty damned good) so I will handle that stuff. I'm not exactly sure how or if the financial stuff can be fixed, but I know it won't kill me. Yes, I'm worried--but I'm not a basket case. And that, in my eyes, is real progress.

So. About that "gay" thing.

This is gonna be long. But today's my birthday, and this is my first entry. So for both reasons, I claim immunity from long-post complaints. Additional disclaimer: Though it may well be interesting to the rest of my dear readers, this post is aimed specifically at my LSMSA comrades; other posts should be more general.

A few months ago I created a blog-city profile. Purpose: To see and comment on blogs by several friends who use the service. Then, just a couple of weeks ago, I finally discovered the mailbox that goes along with having a blog-city profile. Among other items, the mailbox contained a message from M. that read, in part: "BTW, do you know how much fuss you've created by putting 'gay' on your profile?? LOL" Nope, M., I had no idea.

Well, okay...I did have a little idea. Just a tiny one. But after all, if Jennifer (aka Fred) figured it out, I assumed that other people had as well.

FADE IN:

INT. COFFEE CALL DAY

DAVID and FRED are seated in the crowded, brightly-lit shop, eating beignets.

TITLE OVER:

Summer, 2003

DAVID

...and that's when I knew that I am gay.

FRED

(rolling her eyes and looking pained)

Ohhhhhhh--we were wondering when you'd ever figure it out. We all knew way before we ever even met you, practically. I mean, you never even showed any interest in me at all...and you still didn't know? What a maroon!

DAVID (V.O.)

At least, it went something like that. Fred's always been so...well, snotty in her alternative-ness.

INT. NISSAN TRUCK NIGHT

David drives along a residential section of Perkins Road as Fred rides shotgun. We HEAR "WIND BENEATH MY WINGS" playing on the truck's radio.

DAVID

I get the distinct feeling that something cynical is required here. Some kind of witty sardonicism.

FRED

I've found a new boyfriend to be co-dependent with. You probably won't be seeing me again. At least for a few years, until he and I break up and I need some schmuck to pour my pain out to.

DAVID

Yes! Just like that! I wouldn't have thought of that, but it contrasts so well with the music. Oh, Fred, you're the best fucked-up giftie I know!

FADE OUT:

THE END

Anyway, several people have pointed out that I shouldn't feel obliged to explain this. I understand and agree. At the same time, I feel that people who are close to me have the right to know me as I am. And besides, I want to explain. I'll get serious now, but make it as brief as possible:

I didn't really, consciously know until late December of 2000, when I had a sudden epiphany. It went pretty much exactly like this: "Oh, wow, that's what's up...I'm gay. This is gonna be really interesting--I'm gonna be a minority. Okay, well, if I am gay, then that means there have got to be a lot of other men like me walking around--there've got to be a whole lot of gay men who don't "get" that whole gay production-number thing. So where are all the other gay guys who aren't like Jack on Will & Grace?"

The question that everyone eventually has is, "How in the world could you not know?" It's probably hard to understand how one could suppress something so huge, unless you've had a reason to do so. The closest thing I can offer to an explanation is this: I was never exposed to masculine-normative gay men. Like most other people, I didn't even know that such a thing existed. Therefore, that possibility was completely closed off to me. After the epiphany, I looked back on my life, and realized that internally, I was clearly gay even before puberty. But all those thoughts, all the suspicions in the back of my head, had no place to go. If being gay meant being skinny, fashionable, and effete, then it was simply outside the realm of possibility for me.

I am very, very lucky for a number of reasons. The first is that my "coming out to myself" episode happened late. That was lucky for me because by the time I realized the truth, my response was not so much "This really sucks, how the hell am I going to deal with this?" as it was "This is going to be tough and interesting." I think it's telling that among my first thoughts was to wonder where all the other guys like me were.

I didn't have to wonder for long. I soon found the bear community--basically a large, international gay subculture that likes to fight over the very definition of "bear". For what it's worth, here's the definition from Resources for Bears--it's as good as any:

The most common definition of a "bear" is a man who is hairy, has facial hair, and a cuddly body. However, the word "Bear" means many things to different people, even within the bear movement. Many men who do not have one or all of these characteristics define themselves as bears, making the term a very loose one. Suffice it to say, "bear" is often defined as more of an attitude than anything else - a sense of comfort with our natural masculinity and bodies that is not slavish to the vogues of male attractiveness that is so common in gay circles and the culture at large.

As time has passed, I've found myself identifying less and less with bear culture--but it's been a very handy way to "break into" life as a gay man. Bear culture gave me things that I really needed at the time, and a group to belong to was not the least of those things.

Since 2000, a lot has happened. The only people in my life who still don't know that I'm gay are my mom and dad--and that will change soon. My brother and sister and their spouses know, all of my colleagues at LSU and BRCC and The Princeton Review know. I've become very up-front about it because I want it to fade into the background sooner rather than later--if that makes any sense. And if you're reading this and wondering, "Why didn't I know?" I have an answer for you: If I didn't tell you directly, it's because I never had a good chance to do so. At the time that most of you were still in Baton Rouge, I had no clue myself. Later, I was loathe to turn relaxing, enjoyable gatherings into Dave's Gay-O-Rama by bringing it up. I've now arrived at a point where I've learned how to do it in a way that keeps me comfortable, and (hopefully) reassures others if necessary.

Which brings me to that luck thing again: I am very, very lucky to have so many cool family members, friends, and colleagues. I actually had to stop the people in my department at LSU from throwing a party of sorts to celebrate when I came out to them in a Black Box performance. My brother and sister (and sister-and-brother-in-law) have been extraordinarily wonderful from the moment I told them. And my friends, down to the last gal and guy, have been exactly the same.

And now, I suppose I'll open the floor for questions and comments. I've left a lot out (for example, my 3-year relationship with a man named Bob, to whom I was engaged, and with whom I remain close friends). I hope, however, that I've provided enough of an explanation here for a beginning of some kind. If any questions come up, I'll answer them here or via private E-mail, as appropriate.