I got a call earlier, from Wendy's Restaurant.

I finished rehearsing my monologues then bussed it to Polo Park [thanks to the director who gave me a bus ticket]. I had to catch the #77 so I could drop off a resume at Blockbuster Video, but I had some time to spare. Across the street, I saw Wendy's, so I heaved a sigh and walked on in. First of all, I figured that my monsterous amount of hair would scare them from hiring me, that my locks would fall in everything, and my asthmatic coughing would be seen as a health hazard. I simply handed my resume over politely to the tall skinny kid. It was a kid, I think, who phoned me. I was even going over in my head how to nail this job nabbing process.

There's a part of me though, that thinks that if I do get this job, that I'll be the ultimate worker, that I'll be able to raise enough money to move away from my family and have my own place.

It makes me wonder what exactly I'm trying to get away from. I'm not really heading towards something, otherwise I'd have been there and struck gold. I had this flash a moment ago. My mom always use to tell me that I could tell her anything, when I was little. I don't feel I could properly confide in her or any family member. All I'd get is, "Just don't think about it" or some other pat answer that'll leave me frustrated more than ever. My whole family, especially myself, can't help each other emotionally. There's this fear of confrontation, of what's at the base of our problems. Nobody would know how to handle each other's crisis. I can't even deal with my own. I can't think of any problem that was dealt with and patched up. I have so many loose ends, so many parts of me with no closure. My only cure would be to confront the family, to say what's on my mind, even when they try to wrestle away from me out of discomfort, I should reel them back in. I always thought I was emotionally distant, but it's a family trait. My brother's asleep now, but from the time he picked me up to the time he conked out in his bed, we've only said 10 words, if that, to each other. Something needs to be broken. I fear also that to disturb the routine of things would fall on my head and I wouldn't be able to handle that either. Whatever family quirks exist must be smoothed out. It's that big elephant thing, that thing where you're with a group of people and there's this thing looming that everyone is avoiding: It's unavoidable yet nobody is acknowledging it. I so badly want to point it out and say, "There's a huge elephant in our house! What are we going to do about it?"

I've experienced the elephant-in-the-room sydrome and that was way back in Vancouver. That was too ugly of a situation. To go back there again would be suicidal.

If I were to write a show or a biography about myself, I'd point it in the direction of my family, keeping them in mind as I wrote it. That would be the only way to express my sexuality and have them included. This is a big chunk of me they don't know. Actually, there's so much of me they don't know. I also realized the last time my brothers came to visit me years ago in Vancouver that there's so much about them that I don't know. If I went to visit my older brother, I'd be surprised at his lifestyle. In fact, if any of my family members died, all sorts of stuff would come out and so many discoveries would make either more sense or confuse us all. One of the things I fear about death is that when people sift through my things, they'll piece my stuff together and come up with their own theories. They may still misinterpret me, even while discovering things I didn't want anyone to know about.