Let's box it out

I stand. Feet shoulder width apart, right leg slightly farther back than my left. Hands up, however, they are open-handed with palms slightly facing you. These hands are high, covering the sides of my face but not enough to impede my range of vision. My head is lowered giving the impression that my shoulders are hunched.

November 4th is a day after the deadline for ballots in Washington State for a variety of issues. Admittedly, only one of them has the ability to ignite the fire inside my blood. Referendum-71 affects the rights of persons engaging in civil unions. Washington State allows same-sex partners to have civil unions and enjoy the same rights as married couples under a different terminology. Awhile ago, conservatives got enough people to sign a petition to bring Referendum-71's legitimacy under a vote by the state. According to the early news reports, this referendum is looking like it will be approved (meaning that homosexual couples will still be able to have their civil unions and rights afforded by that).

Take a look at this county breakdown from Seattle Times. At first glance you'd think that there's no way that Referendum-71 could possibly be approved. The catch is that the population of King County (where Seattle is located) greatly out numbers any of the other counties in Washington State.

My questions are these: How on earth is rejecting rights to another human being in any way justifiable? Where does that train of thought come from?

I lead with my left. It's a jab. Not too strong but undeniably quick. The power is in my right - my entire body would be behind that hand. I step as I jab with that left. It's not away, it's not to the side, I am moving right at you.

I took some steps last week and yesterday morning that could put me back into school. I'm not worried about being back in an academic setting but I am worried about financial obligations and just being able to afford living. If Brandon had more income I'd be less worried but right now I bring home the bacon and my bacon is anything but impressive.

Luckily, I'd only have to be in school for a year and the job prospects for that career in Seattle are very high. What exactly is this possible career? Stay tuned - you know how I love to encourage suspense and watch the results.

My second blow is in the form of another left-handed jab. Like the first, it's fast and low in power. I move forward closer to you again. There is not much space left. My right never leaves my face unprotected.

Halloween was a couple days ago. This holiday is my favorite. Perhaps it's the dressing up, the parties, the candy, the emphasis on scary things... who knows!? What I do know is that I love this holiday and that it follows my birthday is only another huge thumbs up.

One of soccer teammates calls me the Ginger Terror because of my hair color. This year, I decided to use that to my advantage and create a costume for the Ginger Terror. What do you think?

It's a red-fire wig. Horns. Chest piece and eight-feet extendable (via pulling on cords from my back piece) wings. Hairy leggings and hooves. Just in case anyone had any doubts, I wore a name-tag stating "Ginger Terror" (like that helped, drunk people were still like "what are you????").

It's the right finally, like you could have only expected. And yes, it has come with all of the fury and rage that could be gained by throwing my entire body into it. The blow doesn't end at its target, the follow-through is what actually causes most of the damage. However, there's no posing for effect, the arm is whipped back into form. I am almost on top of you now: there is no escape.

We're nearing the time of the year that is considered the holiday season by most of the United States: Thanksgiving and then Christmas.

This looks like it's going to be another year away from the family for the holidays. To be honest, and this is somewhat selfish of me, I do not want to go home for either holiday. I've become accustomed to my life in Seattle and know now that it is my home. Growing up is natural, I know this, but what makes me different than my siblings who stayed in the Midwest?

Some part of me thinks that the only real reason is my sexual orientation. Missouri, and even Ohio (these are the two places where my family lives), are part of the Bible-belt and as such, cater to very conservative views. There is no room for people who are "different".

In another point of view, I know that these are the areas of our country that need some of the most help. To quote an old saying we're "only as strong as our weakest link" and take no doubt from this statement, bigotry is a weakness. However, I do not think I possess the mental fortitude to bring about change in these areas of our country. For example, I do not even have the desire to combat my family's various takes on things.

When I was back in Columbia or Kirksville (both in Missouri) I would experience long-lasting feelings of wanderlust. The drive to leave the Midwest would tug on my soul. I've accomplished that now and really do not want to go back.

The surprise can be unleashed. I'm so close now that even blocking me will not be much of a help. The next blow comes in the form of a right elbow. I'm tall, I have a large reach and my elbow is not small. There is weight behind the blow and it smashes through what's left of your defenses. I use the momentum of this movement to move under and to my left.

My brother called me last week to tell me happy birthday as well as to ask me something that is very important to him.

Like some of you may know, he is going to Iraq this month. He's a medic, so his combat exposure will hopefully be minimal, however, war is unpredictable and he has had to start preparing for the worst.

He told me that, although he does not expect this happen, in the instance that he would die while in Iraq if I would donate some sperm to his wife so that she could have a child that is the closest representation of my brother, her husband (there are six of us, but only he and I have the exact same parents).

They are looking into freezing some man-juice of his but he wants to have a Plan C: Me.

I told him I would but that I did not want to hear him talk about that ever again. It is tremendously upsetting for me to think about him dying in Iraq. Added to that that I'm gay makes me wonder "how horrible it would be for the only kid I would ever have come from this situation". Brandon being there was a huge comfort. More than he probably realizes.

There is no extra time. I do not give myself, or you, any time to breathe. The new positioning is set quickly and using the momentum behind its rocking-reset, my left foot is swept quickly into the side and back of your right knee. Unbroken, it crumples. Things are nearly over.

Last night my soccer team got its ass handed to it. I do not even know the end score but the team we played was one of the teams we had tied in the past in probably our highest scoring game ever.

Our defense was in shambles and their team was constantly scoring while using the same play. It didn't help that our normal goalie was injured but a team shouldn't be entirely reliant upon one person anyways. My boyfriend alone had close to seven shots on goal. Most of which went wide. Other players had chances to score as well but failed. The entire experience was a shitstorm.

Needless to say, afterwards I was pissed. I take things way too seriously. I'm definitely one of those people that my dad always warned me of becoming: "If you can't take it, don't dish it out."

Talking about things helps me out mentally. The problem is that if I'm pissed about something I have zero desire to talk about it. For some stupid reason I'd rather sit on it and just make it worse. And let me just reinforce this now: I am in no way a friendly person when I'm angry.

Brandon isn't confrontational. In a lot of ways, he's the opposite of me. In this particular way we are polar opposites. I'll come after your ass if I think you've pissed me off and he will just avoid being around you.

I've never been very good at handling my various emotions. When I was younger, I used to beg my dad to let me start a sword collection like the one my cousin had. He would always say the same thing: "Josh, you'd probably get mad at someone and kill one of your siblings. No."

Thanks, dad.

Surviving the after effects of an "awesome" soccer game like the one last night is a credit to Brandon. He's learning how to deal with me and that makes me love him even more. It's even more amazing that he is able to reverse my mood entirely.

This is over. I kick straight out now with my right foot. The leg was raised first before the kick was extended. It is both a push away and a method of removing you from your feet. Do not get up. It will not be pretty.

I love Brandon R.