Masters and Slaves

Five weeks ago I started my masters degree, and so far so good. As a research degree I don’t have that many classes; two lectures and two seminars per week. They certainly believe in throwing people in at the deep end! I only now realise how much work is involved. For the seminars I have to do a load of reading because students need to present on and take part in discussion about their reading. It’s actually a very clever way of making sure that we do the work!

The next thing is to start on my essays. I have two due in December, but with careful planning I should be OK – I’ve taken leave from work and (a huge advance since I was an undergraduate) most of the learning resources, books etc are online; it saves on time consuming trips to the library. All in all I enjoy it and am learning a lot, and I’m glad of the support the university helpfully provides.

Being a research degree, one thing I must do is my dissertation – and that means identifying a topic. I’m not quite sure what to research yet; that’s quite understandable given I’m five weeks into a two year course. But, one initial idea I am taken with is combining my work in healthcare strategy with my interest in sexuality. Say, exploring heterosexism in the commissioning of health and social care.

One thing I do know already is the importance of reflexivity in research. That means reviewing my research and my research proposal continually, as my data and findings should lead me to refine my area of enquiry. And part of that means keeping a research journal.

That led me to consider this: instead of having a private journal I wondered if I should perhaps keep my journal as another blog. I don’t know if it’s appropriate when conducting research – perhaps you will have some insight into that, gentle reader?

I know what you’re thinking – two blogs? No-one, not even in Strumpetville, can live at that speed! But it would be time limited to the period of my dissertation; while this blog continues indefinitely. And as I’d have to write a journal anyway, on or offline makes no difference.

It’s just an idea at the moment, but I’m taken with it. Unless I discover it’s a total no-no in the field of academic research then I intend to start it as soon as I begin to seriously think of my topic and research design.

As for this blog – new look, new determination to post at least weekly. So plenty to read about, I hope.

The Line of Beauty

I posted a while ago that I wanted to get more into gay culture. Having consciously avoided it before I came out then skirted around it since then I thought it time to jump in and begin to explore that area of culture.

The first thing I got to grips with was The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst. It is set in the 1980s and the main protagonist is Nick, a young gay guy who is out to his friends and family, but at the start of the story a virgin. A strong background to the story is Nick exploring his sexuality, from dating to cruising to drugs and group sex – but the book isn’t overly sexual or overly focussed on sexuality. It deals nicely with hypocrisy and how homophobia can linger under a veneer of acceptance. For instance, when one of the other main characters is exposed as an adulterer he accuses Nick of sabotaging his family with a “typical gay trick” – because gays can’t have families of their own they spoil other people’s. In another scene a couple of openly-homophobic upper-class people welcome HIV as a lesson to teach gays to be more careful.

At the end of the book Nick is alone, but has made some progress in the world; the two main love interests of his have died of AIDS, and he has lost his home but he is not resourceless. Because he has never been fully involved in family or social life because of his sexuality there is a nice underlying metaphor for the hypocrisy and materialism of the Thatcher years. He is surrounded by beautiful things and people, but ultimately they elude him.

In other news, I have joined the LGBT network at my workplace. It was/is nice to meet colleagues in the context of being gay rather than colleagues who happen to be gay and surrounded by people who aren’t. On the serious side we are the forum to test our employer’s policies and actions under the brand-spanking-new equality legislation that covers sexuality; and to try and get them onto the Stonewall Employers Equality Index. On the fun side there is the opportunity to socialise. I hope to make a valuable contribution...

So there we have it, gentle reader, a wee bit of culture, and a bit of getting-involvedness. Square one done and dusted!

Keeping it going...

At the beginning of October I started my masters degree course. It is actually very interesting and absorbing, and in many ways I’m only just beginning to realise how much work is involved in the course. It’s each Monday and Wednesday evening after work; and involves lectures and seminars – and of course there’s the background reading, studying, essay writing and project work that supports passing the course. I’m determined to get much more than a pass though, so I really have my work cut out.

It means being somewhat ruthless with my working hours though I’ve settled into my role well enough that the immediate problems have been solved and I can concentrate on the cultural changes I feel are needed to move away from drama and toward Getting Things Done. It’s not easy given the background of transforming the service into a completely different set of institutions, which is certainly keeping everyone on their toes! Things remain very busy.

Obviously between work and study there is the need to Live Live Liiiive!! Fella and I have a busy social life and are usually out with friends once or twice a week. Last weekend we saw Pam Ann at the Vaudeville Theatre (hilarious), had dinner with friends in the week and yesterday we celebrated Fella’s mother’s 62nd birthday, went to the Museum of London, and the national gallery.

Finally, there is the need to keep Hogzilla at bay. I suppose all this frenetic activity should be keeping me trim and I’m certainly not putting on weight but being enfianced to a world class cook; and not being a stickler when it comes to the grape and the grain means I need to keep up with my regime of running (Tuesdays and Thursdays after work) the gym (three times a week before work) and swimming (weekends).

Am I writing this post to boast, gentle reader? No – the fact the cheerful fairy is a much beloved tower of rippling gorgeousness supporting a brain the size of a planet should not have escaped anyone by now *ahem*!

The one thing you won’t have spotted in all of this is talk of my relationship. Perhaps you were relieved to have got this far without yet another angst ridden attempt to dissect my love with inexpert tools. Well, fear not – I don’t propose to do that here.

Relationships obviously need work to keep going – and I know (just) enough to realise that isn’t easy even if there weren’t so many calls on my time. To keep this going Fella and I are doing two things – firstly, making sure we have Us time; at least one quiet night in a week where we can enjoy doing nothing, together. And also making sure we go out and do things, together. Next Saturday we’re reserving just for quality time, activities to be decided.

The second thing is of course Fella’s time. I am keen for him to take up something for the time when I’m not around. He does his yoga, for example [hurrah] and that’s a start. I’d like him to take up an evening course; he was considering learning German for example. I know when I’m alone at home without him it can feel very lonely in this flat – it’s very much our home and on my own it feels different.

That written, I do want him to enjoy some quiet time, and relax at home as he sees fit when I’m not around (just as I like to do from time to time – I’m still an introvert!). I don’t want him to resent my busyness or slip into a routine where his life revolves around my schedule; that wouldn’t be fair.

We’re holding the line pretty well right now I think. Of course we’re only a few weeks into a two year course and who knows where our respective careers and interests might lead us? Any tips would be most welcome when it comes to balancing the needs of a relationship with the all of the wider world...

What is sexiness?

What is it that makes people sexy? I know what I like. Generally slimmer guys, bookish types... yes, I could do nasty things to the Hot Gay Nerd. Or even a Hot Straight One. I wouldn’t say Fella is nerdy, not t all, but he fits the type generally well. Somewhat ironic that Hogzilla’s Goldicocks is a virtual mirror image. Slim, musical, personable, family oriented vs “athletic”, scientific, introverted, distant.

One of the things about coming out was the desire to explore what I wanted from a man, relationship, etc – rather than frustratedly fantasising about cock (and occasionally holding my nose and indulging myself). After all coming out was precipitated by the start and abrupt end of my first proper relationship. Who and what was I looking for?

Desirability is a combination of things, isn’t it? Looks, dress, income, lifestyle, social graces, sexual behaviour, communication style... comment not, gentle reader, on how easy it was for me to get into a relationship but how difficult it was to sustain it. No, that’s not for today!
I suppose the clearest way of setting out what I’m thinking is to reflect on the three relatively long relationships I have been in over the last few years.

Darren, International and Fella are all remarkably different, and my thinking or feelings for them were and are different too. I don’t feel for Fella more strongly what I felt for International; I feel other things – better things.

For Darren, well I was in thrall. He was the first person I was with and really I was mostly pathetically grateful. I look back on that with a certain measure of world-weary embarrassment. Adolescent infatuation, blind to reality – just about ten or more years too late! Still, it was a necessary step – I thought he was delightful then but now I couldn’t honestly say that he is sexy to me. A bit muscle bound for my now more mature tastes. Good but not exceptional as a lover. Apart from being my first relationship, there is little remarkable about him.

International, now he was and remains a different story. Gorgeous, charming, incredibly sexy. When I was with him the mere thought of him, his body, being with him filled me with passion. The kind of sexiness you ascribe to being with someone who definitely isn’t good for you. Breaking it off with him was sad but not heart breaking – the connection there was largely physical. He gets in touch from time to time, but without the physical connection there is not much there... with him there was and remains a real physical attraction. But that, sadly, was all.

And what about Fella? He is beautiful, and kind, and loving, and generous. Every aspect of our relationship has its positive points to help reinforce our bond. Of course there are the down sides; that’s a relationship involving two imperfect human beings. His physical attributes are balanced by other parts of who he is. Perhaps his sexiest aspect is that he makes me happy.

I suppose it isn’t really fair – possibly even callous – to compare them in this way. I suppose sexiness is defined in different ways for different people at different times. But overall, it’s safe to say, in terms of desirability what I have now is by far the best!

Is it ‘cos I is...?

Poof. Queer. Fruit. Homo. Arsebandit. Shirtlifter. Bender. Fag, fag, faggot. Batty boy. Ponce. Cock Jockey. Chutney ferret (!). Fudge packer. Pansy. Queen. Ring raider. Shit stabber. Uphill gardener. He goes shopping with his mum...

The list is virtually endless gentle reader, the names there are for us fairies be we never so cheerful as me. There always has to be a victim, somewhere, of course. By and large the old ways are still our favourite; Lord help you if you are brown. anti-Semitism is still close to the hearts of many. And do we really believe there's no such thing as women's work?

Nevertheless it seems that after reiterating the arguments for equality for a very long time it almost seems like gay men and women are the last ones left. It's difficult to come up with another group of people who face, in many countries, the death penalty for being who they are – either via the courts or extra-judicially; or who are faced with deliberate legal impediments (can't get married, can't have kids, differing ages of consent); or who are viewed with suspicion often by members of their own family.

Currently there is a bit of controversy smouldering away about the use of "gay" as a derogatory term – something "gay" is a bit crap, rubbish, shoddy. I had to pull up a friend the other day for using it quite thoughtlessly in the office. It is something that annoys me purely because it is such a throw-away term. People seem genuinely surprised that it can cause offence. I sometimes feel like saying to them: take out the world gay, put in the word black, and if you'd think twice about using that sentence then you need to be more careful generally.

Of course there are limits. "Gay" is used quite a bit by gay people or to gay people by their friends in a humorous, familiar context. A word reclaimed in that way can be an effective way of drawing its teeth; and anyway in this as in all things context is king. Also, the genuine and dangerous discrimination and harm gay people suffer around the world shouldn't get obscured in an argument about semantics. Fella and I have had our fair share of unpleasant experiences and we're not exactly winning prizes in the homophobia stakes. Still, the casual indifference, the idea that civil partnership will do gets to me.

Coming out was, and still is, for me the expression of realising it's OK to be gay – more than that, it's no reason to feel less than who I am: not second class so much as some kind of failure. Fortunately for me, for us, the world is slowly changing and compared to what it was like when I was a teenager it's much much better. And it will continue to improve. More gay politicians, more countries recognising relationships and dismantling the hurdles toward full and open participation in society, more (non-stereotyped) gay characters in soap operas and main stream movies. We're here, we're queer (ahem), and... we have quite a lot of money. Need I say more??

Voyager

Voyager II was launched within a few days of my birth. I have felt an affinity to that lonely spacecraft, the farthest man-made object in existence, for many years.

When my family and I first came to Britain in the 1980s I started, as one does, at a new school with new people, speaking a strange language and observing peculiar customs. The very first thing we did after I started in my class was a project on that spaceship. I was hooked; the beautiful pictures of worlds I had never dreamed of; the idea of travelling so far into uncharted territory, and being so utterly alone. And the promise of the future;, discoveries and revelations beyond the wildest fantasy of science fiction.

At that point I decided I wanted to be an astronaut. Well, what boy doesn't? But the chances of being an astrofairy were very slim, not least because we did not go into space then. Nevertheless, my dream persisted and it eventually drew me down the path of science. I eventually began to read physic, moving to Strumpetville almost 15 years ago (15 years, gentle reader: already!!). and studying the stars myself. That time, too, was an exciting time for we began to discover worlds around other stars as well as take a vigorous and new interest in our neighbour worlds too. I was very lucky to be involved in a small way in both, and for a time Voyager was forgotten.

Now Voyager has left near space and for the next 15 years – as long as its systems are expected to keep functioning – it will feedback data on interstellar space; or as near to it as we are likely to get in the near future. And eventually its power cells will die and it will drift ever on until... well, perhaps forever.

That little craft out there has been, in a sense, almost an intrepid representation of my own little life. It was launched when I was born; it passed the last of the worlds it was to survey as my childhood began to end, and it left the Solar System about the time that I came out. I hope my power cells last beyond 2025, of course, but it is amazing to think how much that craft has not only had similar milestones – in a sense - but inspired me to follow my own.

Reading this who would wonder, whether gay or straight, that my obsession with space and science found me single for so long? But still, gentle reader, nothing has been quite so inspiring to me as that tiny piece of our world out there among the stars.

Addendum

Further to my post, below, I have decided to write a short addendum. I am sitting here at home: it's 9:00am on Saturday, and I should be working on some job descriptions. Unaccountably, gentle reader, I was distracted by some Paul Brumby photos. Yum yum yum...


This, this here, is ultimately what I aspire to:



Tasteful airbrushing notwithstanding, I'm not a trillion miles from this - which is rather cheering. I wonder if my friends who read this are laughing themselves into a coma right now; but it's good to have a goal! And I think the above is far more achievable than some twink hairless fat-free homonculus. Why would I aspire to that? That would just make me feel bad; and the object is to feel good.


So here goes; a toast to becomming a little less gross every day. And now... back to work.