Heck, all stories have them, good or otherwise.

My story is no different, though most of my story is taking place in The Middle.  There have been many beginnings in my life, besides the most obvious one: The Very Beginning.  And, there have been many endings in my life as well, though, as far as I can tell, I have not reached The Ultimate Ending.

This blog is both a beginning and an ending:  the beginning of a new blog, and the ending of an old blog.  I’ve written, haphazardly, for a number of years at Phases of The Noon.  It’s been a home for me on the net, a place that began as a journal of ramblings, and morphed over the years into a place to share whatever caught my fancy, as well as a personal tale or two along the way.  It’s been a place where I have collected all the flotsam and jetsam of my internet wanderings, but, “Phases” never had much of a purpose (although I did try a time or two to give it one.)  I just couldn’t find the right tone for the blog.  So, it’s time to bring “Phases” to a gentle end, though there may still be a thing or two posted there, as not everything will fit into this blog.

There is a beginning also, a new home with a purpose: Johnbalaya.  (Yes, yes, ok, for the 3 of you who paid attention, Johnbalaya was intended to be a food blog, but, I don’t think a food blog is what I need this space to be, so, the dozen-ish posts have migrated into the big unknown world called: The Garbage Bin.  They will be missed.)  I have recommissioned this blog to be the space I have always wanted, yet have held back from writing.  This is a place about me.

“Well, why the fuck would I want to read a blog about you?” (Yes, that was said in your out-loud voice)

“I’ll tell you”, I reply.  (And, gosh darn and dammit all — does that comma go on the inside or the outside of the quotation marks.  Should there be a period after “you”?)

I’ll tell you why you might want to give a fuck and give this blog a try.

Because I have stories (all true) to share: stories about caring for an 88-year old mother; stories about living with HIV for almost 23 years; stories about being a gay man; stories about losing a father when I was 14, and losing a brother not long after.  I’ve got stories about the depth and despair of depression, and stories about the simple beauty of life.  I’ve got stories about the important things, along with stories about the most mundane of things.

This is not a “poor me” blog, because I don’t believe in being “poor me.”  Life has happened, as life usually does.  It’s happened, and I’ve made choices — not all of them good, but, in the end, they were my choices, and I’ve had to live with whatever happened after: good, bad, otherwise.  Johnbalaya is not just about the stories though, it’s about the thoughts that go along with the stories, the thoughts as they happened.  There are past thoughts, thoughts about what’s happening now, and even thoughts about what’s to come.  There will even be thoughts about trying to make sense of it all, because isn’t that what most of us try to do?

I’d like to be clear that I make no claims, I have no pretensions, nor do I wish it to be thought that I think that my life has been extraordinary.  It hasn’t.  I’m no child of wealth or fame.  I’ve not survived million-to-one odds.  I’m simply a man, who grew up in a working-class neighborhood, and was raised by parents who aren’t all that different from yours.  I’m one story among a million others (though, I suppose I must have a bit of pretension since I am putting my story out there in hopes of it being read.)

I would also like to make it known that I will try my best to not sound like I believe that life has fucked me over.  I don’t believe that.  What I believe is that life can, and usually does, fuck with you.  In my case, any fucking over that has been done to me has been done by me.  I don’t believe I am a victim.  I am simply me.  I’ve stood up, and I’ve fallen down.  I’ve soared to the sun, and I’ve come plummeting to the ground.  I’ve been supported by people, and I’ve been hurt by them as well.  Yet, I’m not a victim of anything other than my own short-comings and impulsiveness, and my own strange, neurotic need to continually self-destruct.

The stories told herein are not in any sort of order.  They’re whatever happens to be on my mind when I sit down to write.  As I am in the hypothetical middle of my journey, I suspect that there will be more stories of the Here and Now, and, unless I suddenly develop some kind of psychic ability, there will be a shortage of stories of my future.

Finally, I would mention that there may be the occasional off-topic posting: food (I suspect you’ll encounter more than a bit about food), a music video, the Viral Video of The Moment, a quotation, or some other oddity.  But, mostly, I’ll try not to stray too far off the beaten path.

Welcome to Johnbalaya.  Welcome to the Mind Of John.

*****If you’re interested in following me, please be sure to update your RSS feed, or email subscription, or bookmark to Johnbalaya*****

The Oxford Comma, and why it is important:

(via The Daily What)

Photos from a forthcoming episode of AbFab.

Ms Harvey is on a crusade against: homosexuality, bisexuality, Neopaganism, Witchcraft, Muslims, Feminist Theology and Goddess Worship (among other things).

Besides being on a crusade, Ms Harvey seems to exist in some other alternate universe.  And, she’s obviously rather confused about how to be a trustworthy Crusader. In order to be trustworthy, however misguided, one must be in some sort of touch with reality.

For a person to be against homosexuality, bisexuality, and the “gay agenda in Schools”, it would seem logical to assume that The Gays exist.  Why spend time and energy ranting about something that doesn’t exist?  If they don’t exist, they cannot be a threat.  Right?

Wrong.

Apparently, Ms Harvey is rabidly against something which does not exist:

“There’s one big fact that’s not backed up. There is no proof that there’s ever anything like a gay, lesbian or bisexual or transgendered child, or teen or human. One of the other things you’re gonna see as I mentioned is a big campaign GLSEN’s gonna roll out this year calling for ‘respect,’ respect! Not just for people, but for homosexual lifestyle. The PR campaign to hold up gay as a good thing: the lifestyle, not the person, because there are no such humans.”

This, of course, means that I, as a gay man, do not exist.

Thus, this is a blog post written by someone who doesn’t exist, posted on a blog that was created by someone who doesn’t exist.

Deep thoughts indeed.

(via Joe My God)

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Says Rep. McGuire, a Tea-Partying Republican, of the young people in her state (and, I assume everywhere else) making minimum wage:  “It’s very discriminatory, particularly for young people. They’re not worth the minimum.”

Neither are you, Rep. McGuire.

Neither are you.

(via Joe My God)

…but…

….um….

I didn’t.

A mom shares the story of her 6-year-old son’s love of Blaine, from Glee:

“Mommy, Kurt and Blaine are boyfriends.”

“Yes, they are,” I affirm.

“They don’t like kissing girls.  They just kiss boys.”

“That’s true.”

“Mommy, they are just like me.”   (Read full post here)

From the follow-up piece, published in Out Magazine:

I wrote what I thought was a cute, innocent, little story about my oldest son and his love of a character on a popular TV show, and how that led to him telling me he wanted to kiss boys and not girls. I naïvely put it up on the internet, thinking maybe some fans of the show or the actor would think it was cute too.

12 hours later it had been ‘liked’ and reblogged more than 20,000 times.

24 hours later it was linked to main page of Out.com.

36 hours later Dan Savage is blogging about it.

48 hours later the Trevor Project posts it on Facebook.  (Read full posthere)

And, the follow-up to the follow-up:

Yes, we are real.  This actually happened.  (I feel weird typing that, but some people seem to be wondering.)  Watching the Glee Live 3D movie with Bug was like being a game of Where’s Waldo.  ”There’s Blaine!…  .There’s Blaine!… . .There’s Blaine!”  His aunt was sitting next to him and she was cracking up the whole time.

We’re lucky to have him, not the other way around.

No, you can’t adopt my son.  We’d cry really hard if he was gone.  :)  (Read full post here)

Fact for the day: “Oenophobia” is the fear or hatred of wine.  Really?  Who knew one could be afraid of wine.

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In order to do my part for those who suffer from this horrific phobia, I will certainly try to do my part to help consume diminish the wine stores of the world, in order to ensure that there will be less wine for you to fear.

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