Intro

I've always found power and solace in words; currently, writing in a blog is my latest channel of expression. I've often written my thoughts in a blog-esque format on my own, but now I'm moving to something more centralized and versatile. And although I'd rather not be hiding behind the pseudonym of "Logan Williams," I think it's justified in this case. (Not that too many people will be seeing this anyway.)

To sum it up: I love the rain, a great movie, and my family (whether biological or not). I am a young adult, an oldest child, an idealist, a libertarian, and a Mormon. And I guess I'm gay.

I officially came out to myself last summer, and it's certainly been an interesting and unexpected ride ever since. Throughout this span of time, I have sinned worse than I'd expected and I have felt closer to God than I'd deemed possible. Since the full realization of my homosexuality really hit, I have incessantly learned and doubted. Many times I have felt alone or slighted, other times perfectly at peace, but many more times I have felt a numbing nothing at all.

I do not know if I will marry in this life, or have children, or ever be satisfied in a relationship, or ever feel truly fulfilled. I do not know how much is expected of me in this time of mine on this planet. But I do know that this ride is far from over, and that I have a God and Savior who understand. Through the sin and hopelessness, the casting of stones and the numbness, they alone understand infinitely.

That is literally all that matters anymore.

Bonfire

Last weekend, I was able to drive up to see an old friend of mine for her birthday party. This friend of mine also happens to be a girl who I have had some feelings for on and off in the past (and the feelings have definitely been mutual). Over the past few years at different times, I have flirted with her, liked her, and even considered dating her. But for obvious reasons, it's always been fleeting and I never pursued a relationship.

When I arrived at her house after the hour-and-a-half drive of listening to practically only Lana del Rey, I finally saw her and met several of her own friends, all of whom seemed to be very nice. Out of the group of maybe ten people, there were only two other guys, and the more social of them – Austin – immediately stood out to me. He was slim, with black hair and a short dark beard.

From the start of the night, I had my suspicions that he was gay. There was something subtle in the way he spoke and the way he composed himself around his many female friends– I just got the vibe, so throughout the night I inwardly wanted to be closer to him. I probably looked at him too often and laughed at what he said too much. Later into the night, we all sat and talked around a bonfire in the backyard. Eventually someone was singing and someone was playing guitar. As things continued to calm down and the flames of the bonfire continued to light up Austin’s face, I could not help feeling so attracted to him.

While I felt this attraction, I remembered the girl sitting across from me, who probably wants to be more than friends and for whom I wish I more consistently felt something. The girl whose house I was at, the girl who I had “dated” in middle school and the girl I sometimes wished was my girlfriend now. Here she was, yet here he was. Why is it that in seven years I could hardly feel for her what I now felt for him within a matter of hours? I have never wanted to be alone with – or kiss – anyone like I wanted that with Austin.

Well the party went on. My friend suggested that I stay the night in their guest bedroom so that I wouldn’t have to make the drive back home that night. I agreed. After that plan came together, I secretly pleaded that Austin would also be staying the night– not necessarily so that anything physical would happen, but just for the emotional closeness and the simple knowledge itself that we would be sleeping in the same house or same room. But soon Austin left, and that was it. I felt disheartened for a while, but it wasn’t any shocker so I got over it.

Sometime after Austin left, he came up in discussion and I officially heard that he actually is gay and actually has a boyfriend. It was then that I noticed something in him that made him so attractive (or, rather, contributed to it). He was honest with his close friends about his sexuality, but he was certainly not desperate to make it all you see in him. He was just simply him– classy, friendly, good-looking, and as it so happens, gay.

I won’t forget the great time I had catching up with my friend at her party. And I won't forget her contagious smile, or the way her face is full of such effortless beauty.

But inconveniently... I also won’t forget what I felt for Austin. I won’t forget the way he looked glowing by the bonfire, or how badly I wanted him to sleep beside me that Saturday night.

Coffee & Compromise

Today while I was at work (the local frozen yogurt shop), I got my usual cup of espresso frozen yogurt. I have always loved the smell (and now taste) of coffee.

A coworker of mine likes to give me a hard time about that because he knows I'm Mormon, and he knows we aren't supposed to drink coffee. Most friends of mine know that I generally don't drink coffee, but that it's not a big deal to me. For me, there can be exceptions– and unfortunately, it's just become insignificant when compared with any decision of morality I must make on a daily basis.

I have been raised in a family that values the "why" over the "how." On occasion my parents have let me watch rated-R movies because they know that plenty of R movies can actually be quality movies, and plenty of PG-13 ones are trash. In fact, several weeks ago my dad took me to see The Revenant (R), and it was undoubtedly one of our all-time favorites. Yet my dad and I are still "believing" Mormons, devout Christians.

I pay tithing, I attend church every Sunday, I often bear my testimony, and I hope to leave for a mission later this year. But my Seminary attendance is suffering, I'm not sure I see homosexual relationships as an inherent sin, and every now and then I have coffee. Some would condemn this way of thinking; some, with stones ready in hand, would tell me these are mistakes more grievous than their own. And sometimes I believe them, but then I remember love.

I know love is the center of it all. If I serve often, if I'm consistently a loyal friend, if I keep my stones to myself instead of casting them at other people– isn't that a lifestyle infinitely more desirable than one centered on things like coffee abstinence? If I live this lifestyle of love, wouldn't that be better than to live the lifestyle of a religious robot– albeit one who can effortlessly identify the moral wrongness of same-sex actions?

I would hope so. Time and time again my belief in this is strengthened, but I still often doubt myself.

Clearly, coffee has come to mean more to me than just that rich flavor I crave. Now, it encompasses the wide range of changes that have been made within me over the past year to two years. Prior to this rollercoaster of piety and sin, I loved the smell of coffee but my automatic response was "Word of Wisdom!" It just was never a desire for me to break that; nor was it a desire for me to pursue a homosexual relationship. Back then, I had no craving, no aching, for what is unaccepted. Now I have that in many more ways than one. I often prove weak enough to let the craving body or aching heart take control, and I am afraid of what that mean in my future.

But the past couple years have not been full of falling... Somehow I have also risen to new heights of spiritual awareness. I have grown to greater appreciate my place in the church, while still recognizing its frequent cultural separation from the core of the gospel. Because although the Word of Wisdom and the Proclamation to the Family and Joseph Smith and missions are all vital aspects of God's plan, they are not and never will be the core. Through homosexuality, coffee, and compromises, I have felt firsthand that Christ is the only core. I have seen that His love is everything.

So thank you, coffee and homosexuality, for cursing me with conflicts I never anticipated.

And thank you, coffee and homosexuality, for blessing me with new eyes I always needed.

He Sleeps Alone

For some time now I have listened to the band Two Door Cinema Club; they really have a great feel and sound to their music. Their song "Sleep Alone" is one I particularly love and, fittingly, it's been on my mind lately.

"He sleeps alone
He needs no army where he's headed
'Cause he knows
That they're just ghosts
And they can't hurt him
If he can't see them, oh

And I may go
To places I have never been to
Just to find
The deepest desires in my mind.

It's in my head
And I have said
That I must be like him now
He sleeps alone,
He sleeps alone.

And I don't know
If in the morning I will be here
And if so
Let it be known
That I was worthy
I was worthy
I was worthy
I was."

It's always crazy to me how music can be so powerful and so intuitive. At times, it can be an exact expression of what's inside your head (both what you knew was there, and what you had long felt but never explicitly identified). 

That's what this song is for me-- because I often face ghosts whose only power is my perception of them; because I want nothing more than to understand what I want; because I don't know how long I will be where I am now, but I want them to know that I tried, that I loved, that I was worthy.

And because like him, I sleep alone.

Orlando Mirror

One week during the fall of last year, my parents, siblings, grandparents, cousin and I all made a trip down to Disney World. It was a wonderful few days full of laughter and great family time. But during the trip I remembered that there's something a little bittersweet about Disney World for a gay guy trying not to act gay. There are perfectly happy gay couples pretty much everywhere. The sight of the two young adult guys holding hands, which repulses my dad and brother, feels right to me in a way I don't understand.

Ironically, the last time I was in Disney World (during April 2014), I felt the attraction very strong then too. I certainly hadn't come out to myself at that point nor was I close to it, but I do remember feeling that familiar pull in my heart.

One day I saw a group of particularly attractive gay guys at the park, and I returned to our hotel that night feeling so confused. I distinctly remember looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, truly at a loss as to why they and their lifestyle appealed so much to me. At a loss as to why seeing them made me feel like a fraction of me was missing. That moment in the hotel bathroom is one of the most vivid memories I have of experiencing raw emotion in terms of this struggle. I wasn't suffering; I wasn't elated or depressed. But I inwardly knew then that homosexuality was a part of me. I knew then that it would be a heavy burden at times, and although I would potentially never fully understand it, I knew it wouldn't be a burden to carry alone.

Looking in that hotel mirror in Orlando, I was so confused and simultaneously everything clicked. As paradoxical as it may sound, few things about my situation made sense yet it all made sense. It made sense to me that I should be confused-- that I should have to fight, that life would mean joy and pain and being lost.

I may have not noticed it then, but I certainly notice it now as I write. It is in fleeting moments such as these that I can't help thinking, "God, I love being human." The experience of living as a soul on Earth is a beautiful thing. Somehow, when I see the suffering and the blessings, the light and dark and everything in between, I know it all has value beyond verbal description.

We are here as humans -- to feel for the sake of feeling and love for the sake of loving -- no matter what that means. We and whatever we may experience are all intrinsic aspects of something bigger, something collective, infinite, and beautiful.

It makes sense.