Me at age 14 with friend, Esther. (2000)

I’ve always been anal. I’ve always liked there to be a time and place for everything, and I can get frustrated when things don’t fit together, like a song that has no chorus. There was a time in my life when a drastic shift in theme, character, or setting between seasons was enough for me to stop watching a beloved television show. And there used to be a time when I assumed the theme, characters, and setting of my life would be exactly as I had planned them out. I don’t really buy these preferences anymore, and I feel like I’m all the wiser for it.

Today I mark the big 26. What is that, late-mid 20′s? I insist it’s still mid-20′s. It’s not that I have any problem with getting old—it’s just that life feels so new this year that I prefer the “younger” framing. Twenty-six isn’t really “big” or “the”-worthy either, but this birthday feels significant, because it’s my first in a new era of my existence.

Last year at 25 should have been significant. A perfect square, a quarter of a century. But who cares about numbers?I was unemployed and living in complete uncertainty for what my future held. Boy was I surprised at just what 25 would bring with it.

Now I have a job! I’m living on my own! And I’m part of a big city for the first time in my life. And that job? Totally not what I thought it would be. I wrote back in March that this new life course made little sense to me when compared to my previous life plan, and I’m still not sure it does. But it’s the path I’m on now… and it’s just peachy.

So here’s a little thought on the passage of time. Whatever comes next doesn’t necessarily have to have anything to do with what came before. As individuals, we are the sum total of our experiences. The world presents us with a whole lot of dots and our lives are what connect them. When we die—or at any point along the way—we can look back and measure our lives not just by the quantity of our accomplishments, but by the tapestry we wove, the picture we unknowingly drew.

It’s pretty cheesy and platitudinous, I know. But that’s just where I am with things. When you let go of all those certainties and expectations society provides, life is a whole lot more exciting and surprising.

So cheers to living life as a rhapsody and dropping glitter on all those strophic codgers.

It is SO weird to think that 26 months ago I started this blog just as a hobby, a little place to synthesize some things that were on my mind and hopefully create some discussion. I never really thought it would become a prominent part of my life and identity, and it seems that now it is very much the defining aspect of who I am.

I spent this weekend in San Francisco communing with 40+ other LGBT bloggers and publishers, as you can see in the photo above. As I felt at Netroots Nation last year, I still had moments where I looked around and still couldn’t believe where I was and with whom I was working. I hope this doesn’t come off as false modesty, but there’s still something crazy about seeing your tweets be retweeted by bloggers that you have always looked to as role models or by mainstream LGBT publishers. I’m still not sure how I got here.

Add to that the fact that after I return east from San Francisco tonight, I will be packing up to move to DC this week to start my full-time job as an LGBT blogger. It’s now going to be my occupation—my primary purpose in life—what I stake my reputation on. It just blows my mind.

And I guess what I want to say is… Go for it. I’m not where I am because there’s anything special about me. I’m not being handed anything on a silver platter. While I’ve certainly been mentored, I don’t think I’ve gotten any special advantages as a result of connections that I’ve made. I just committed myself to my writing and to making the difference I want to make.

Commitment, passion, integrity. That’s what it takes.

The unfortunate truth is that there are a lot of folks out there who think it’s all about just drawing attention to themselves. They provoke just to provoke and complain just to complain. They don’t write their blogs or tweet their tweets for anybody but themselves. They think if they can cause a stink that they mean something and that they’re worth listening to.

They aren’t.

The power of the blogosphere is the passion of individuals to communicate ideas for the benefit of others. We can work together to amplify important messages (like the topics of youth suicide we discussed this weekend in San Francisco) to affect the ideas discussed by society when the mainstream media doesn’t. We can challenge each other and engage with each other, but we also trust and respect each other because we have common goals. None of us live luxuriously off our efforts; it is the difference we can make that propels us.

This weekend, as many of us were connecting and sharing important knowledge with each other, some antagonists posing as “gay activists” tried to interrupt our efforts. Motivated only by their own egos, they attempted to hijack our twitter stream and paint us as a group of uber-privileged brats who want for nothing and are secretly out to destroy the LGBT movement. They attacked us, insulted us, smeared us, bullied us, and victimized themselves despite clearly having no understanding of who many of us are, what we write about, or what the purpose of this meet-up was. They also wanted it to sound like this was some secret exclusive meeting, despite the fact we livetweeted the entire event. It couldn’t have been more transparent.

These individuals have no credibility as advocates, activists, or even as writers, but they feel because they have a platform on the internet that their point of view is valid. It is clear when the only effective way to engage with such individuals is to ignore them that they do not have substantive or meaningful contributions to make towards our supposedly common goals.

It is this selfishly motivated approach to blogging that gets folks nowhere. They do not get respect; their ideas do not get traction. They are not worth a single retort because the attention of such a retort is all they care about.

The blogosphere is a community, and the more that we can work together, the better. To those whose approach is to attack, belittle, and (self-)ostracize, there is no reason to invite them to further engage. It is those who aspire to educate and inform and create a more inclusive society who must be highlighted and promoted.

I continue to be honored that I have been welcomed and promoted in this way in the blogosphere. I admire the brilliant minds that I now get to interact with on a daily basis and look forward to all the opportunities yet ahead to work with them to make society a better place for LGBT people. And to all our detractors; keep trying. I’d rather you waste your time as our petulant trolls than bother other people with your nonsense.

While a Music Ed major, all my extracurriculars were in student affairs. I went to grad school for Student Affairs.

While in grad school, I thought I had a good balance of music and student affairs, but I also ended up starting a blog.

And now, I will be taking a job in blogging.

This week, I’ve accepted an offer to join the team over at the Center for American Progress as an LGBT researcher and blogger (for Think Progress and The Wonk Room). I’m not sure what my posting regimen there will look like yet, but it’s safe to say that ZFb will not be getting nearly as much attention. More on that to come.

For now, at least, the fine folks I’ll be working with have indicated that this blog doesn’t have to go anywhere. I still may very well write here from time to time when I need to get something out that I can’t really write about over there. At the very least, Peterson and I are committed to maintaining Queer and Queerer on at least a semi-regular basis!

It never occurred to me that this little hobby of mine could turn into a career, and so I have to thank a few folks who made it possible.

First of all, Pete Berg needs to be thanked. He doesn’t do anything for me on a regular basis, but it’s thanks to his generosity that this blog (and its podcast) has a home on the interwebs. Thank you, Pete, for continuing to host ZFb!

Pam Spaulding and Bil Browning: The two of you have been incredible mentors and I truly appreciate all of your encouragement and support. I would not be taking this step forward if it weren’t for your promotion of my writing.

Michael Crawford/Freedom to Marry and Mike Rogers: Thanks to your financial support, I was able to attend Netroots Nation this year, which was surely a turning point for me. It was the first time I stood among other bloggers and felt like I was legitimate and doing something real, and the connections I made there were priceless. Thank you for helping me on this path!

My fabulous readers: Thank you for being here, supporting me, promoting my posts, and commenting!

Lots of exciting change to come and I’m not sure what it all will look like!!!

Creating Change offers a huge variety of workshops, academies, and day-long institutes to choose from, which is one of the many reasons it continues to be a rich experience every year. This year, I decided to take a risk by committing to a day-long institute that would be a personal learning opportunity as opposed to just a professional skill-building one.

Geographies of Sex: Mapping our Desire: An Institute for Sexual Liberation

Any time a title has two colons in it, you know it will be intense, and it was, but in really poignant ways.

The goal of the institute was “discovering and reclaiming pivotal experiences that have forged our sexual paths” so that we can map our desire and “move toward a more vibrant, empowered daily expression of our sexualities.” So yes, that meant lots of people talking about their sex lives, and then each of us taking time to reflect on our own sex lives and examine them for themes and understandings of how we think about sex today and make decisions about how to move forward. But no, I’m not going to blog my entire desire map.

Let me start by saying this: sex needs to be demystified. I thought before I attended this institute I had a pretty forward-thinking view on sex (and I certainly haven’t shied away from talking openly about it in positive ways). I was wrong.

Sex is so taboo, and it’s bizarre! We are all sexual beings. We all have sex lives (even abstinent ones). We all have fantasies. We all have desires and our bodies are all capable of experiencing pleasure. And yet conversations about sex have really diminished in our movement.

What’s the one thing that sets apart queer people from the heterosexual/cisgender homogeneity? Our bodies and what we do with them. And as we’ve pushed forward for acceptance, we’ve often done so at the expense of covering up the very things that make us unique.

The problem is that all thoughts related to sex reside in the primal part of our brain. It’s the place where anger and fear are first-responses and it’s quite far removed from our much more evolved intuition and critical thinking skills. So when people are faced with conversations about sex, people go to that very protective place, which makes it difficult to move forward. We’ve moved  toward equality by sacrificing our understanding of our own sexuality.

But honestly… if there is consent and mutual benefit, everything should be fair game.

So let me take my own little step towards a liberated queer community. My name is Zack. I have kinks and fetishes. I am also a romantic and love connecting with sexual partners on deeper levels. And after spending a day examining my sexual history, I realized that I’ve been tentative and insecure with sex in the past. I’ve been afraid of sex, I’ve been afraid of not being desired, and I’ve been afraid to let myself feel pleasure. Moving forward, I am going to try to overcome these insecurities and take a greater ownership of my desires. I’m not ashamed to be a sexual being and I’m not going to let anyone suggest I should be. In fact, I’m going to do my best to encourage others in embracing their own desires as well.

What’s hot for someone is hot for someone.

If shame is in charge, we avoid opportunities for pleasure for ourselves.

If you don’t play out sexual desires, they could take over in other ways.

Those are three quotes from the day. I can’t wait to see how someone tries to use this personal disclosure against me at some point in my life.

Honestly, what I just shared is nothing compared to the kinds of conversations we had at the institute. Here are a few examples of some of the discussions that came up…

It’s not uncommon to have rape fantasies, but what if you’re a rape victim? What kind of sexual paradox is it to still find pleasure in a fantasy that has such a traumatic imprint in your life? I can’t even begin to imagine that conflict, but how liberating it was to have several people in the room who could speak to it. Once you’ve healed, you can play with it. Without undermining the severity of rape, these powerful survivors spoke to reclaiming their sexuality and their desire. How profound to focus on being the survivor instead of always being the victim!

What about consensual incest? I’m talking about two people who have a familial connection but are both capable and willing of giving consent to the other for sexual pleasure. It’s a thought that really racks the brain and makes us think it’s such a horrible thing. What about even just the fantasy of it? What about having a crush on a sibling or a cousin? Given that we’re all sexual beings, don’t we owe it to ourselves to at least consider the question before dismissing it outright for the ick factor it evokes?

Are fantasies in our head meant to stay there or be realized? Sometimes our desires have consequences. Sometimes we spend our whole lives “performing” instead of just “being,” letting go. How do sex workers rediscover what their own sexual desires actually are? How do racial dynamics impact power exchange play? How do we distinguish between our personal sexual feelings and the feelings we have for our partners? How do we ensure that we aren’t just catering to our partner’s desires at the sacrifice of our own?

What is it about monogamy that motivates us to hold it up as an ideal? Is it because we’re just so insecure about expressing our own sexual desires that once we’ve found a single person who pleases us that we aren’t able to trust in an emotional commitment without strict sexual monogamy? I’m asking these questions as someone who identifies quite strongly with monogamy!

One of the panelists discussed a time when he and his partner of then-5 years were having a fight. It had come to light that both of them had had sexual encounters outside of their relationship. But the fight wasn’t working. It was a conditioned response; they weren’t fighting because they actually wanted to fight, but merely because they felt they were supposed to. They soon realized that they were actually both okay with the other’s “indiscretion.” In fact, it kind of made them hot to hear about what each did with the outside person. Eventually their relationship evolved to the point where they could be open and cruise together, and occasionally even welcome a third home with them. They sit on the subway and play the “who would you bang?” game. They are still a committed couple (now 11+ years as I recall), and they are confidently committed enough that they recognize they don’t (and never will) complement each other’s desires perfectly.

I still don’t know if I could ever do that… but how great is that? When we choose to value individuals’ sexuality and desires, it’s not difficult to arrive at a place where his experience with his partner actually sounds quite healthy and vibrant. Still, we have these constructs about what is “right” and “wrong” with sex that are hard to shake. Ultimately, what do we gain from these schemas except limitations to our own sexuality and relationships?

I want to share one more moment of personal learning for me. At one point, I made a comment to the group about how young people (like myself) have absorbed a lot of messages about safe sex that are motivated by fear of HIV and STIs. Later in the day, several different folks in the room disclosed they were HIV+ and that my comment reminded them of the stigma they often face and the way it can really stifle their sexuality. It caused them to shut down a little bit. I had really forgotten about the privilege I have as someone HIV-, and I had indirectly reinforced the stigma against people with HIV. I approached these individuals later to express my regret for the microaggression, and it’s an awareness about creating inclusive spaces that I will carry with me.

So, I hope I’ve given you all something to think about. Much thanks to all the presenters and panelists who helped give me something to think about! Sexual liberation is something I think we all deserve. I know I am nowhere close to being liberated, but engaging in these kinds of ideas has had a profound impact on my thinking. As we move forward in achieving LGBT equality, we have to continue creating space for our sexuality and acknowledge that sex can be a very positive thing. I welcome your thoughts about these important ideas as we all challenge the taboo around sexuality and desire together.

At the end of the intense and emotionally draining day, we were invited to share a next step we were going to take upon leaving the workshop. One young man shared simply, “I intend to fuck soon.” He received a boisterous round of applause.

More about religion later this week.

Every year, I feel compelled to write something during this moment of limbo while I leave behind “homotopia” to return to a world of heterosexual privilege and queer social isolation.

After leaving Denver in 2009, I described the awesome and important new connections I made there. Last year, Dallas left me energized to take action by bringing the energy of of the conference home with me. This year, I feel compelled to just say a few words about family.

It’s not used as often these days, but folks still often use “family” to describe members of the queer community. “Are they family?” It’s a little code to recognize a connection between us all and how our lives in this society are different from the heterosexual and cisgender norms.

But despite its purpose as a codeword, it also carries an underlying depth with it. Creating Change really is a big family reunion in a lot of ways. It’s an ever-growing family, and it’s the perfect opportunity to welcome and engage with new members.

I’m sitting in the airport with a new friend I made as we wait for his flight to leave. He’s someone I didn’t know four days ago and someone I’m now very sad to say goodbye to, one of countless new and old connections from the weekend that fit that description. I can’t imagine not cherishing every last second I have to enjoy such wonderful company. And whether or not any of us keep in touch regularly (we will) or see each other again before CC12 in Baltimore, our lives are different because our paths have crossed.

And as we all depart from the land of lakes, we return to lives where we don’t have this family at our immediate disposal, but we are refreshed and energized. We are reminded that we’re not alone, that our struggles locally are not unique and that we have a family to fall back on.

Most days, being queer is just one small facet of our lives that really doesn’t define us. But some days, we remember that it is still a significant part of who we are, a slice of our identities that connects us to others in a unique way we cannot ever truly lose.

Those of us with the privilege of attending Creating Change have a responsibility to bring back that sense of family to our schools and communities. We’ve touched base with that sense of love, support, and dependence that is at the heart of our queerness, and we owe it to the others in our lives to help them feel the same.

I’m tired and very emotionally drained, so I’ll refrain from babbling much more at this point… but to all you folks out there: you are loved. We are all part of a family, and it’s a family who will always be there waiting when we need it.

Cheers from Minneapolis.

There is a moment in the coming out process… it’s not part of all the psycho-social identity development theories or anything, but it is the most profound moment in a young gay man’s life.

It is the very first time that you feel the touch of another man. I’m not talking at all about sex, but the very first time you allow yourself to test those waters of intimacy. The first time your legs touch… a little bit too much and a little bit too long for it to mean nothing. And the shivers run up and down your spine as every hair stands on end… and you both know. You both know it’s right but you both know it’s wrong, and so maybe that’s all there ever is.

But eventually, the moment comes when another man first holds you in his arms or kisses you for the first time. And… I don’t know. A lot of you out there reading this will just be like, “WHAT IS ZACK ON?” or you’ll just think I’m being really cheesy.

But I’m not. There is truly something powerful about it. The word “relief” doesn’t do it justice… it’s a wave of peace that just washes over you. And I refuse to believe it’s the same as any old heterosexual first kiss.

There’s so much guilt, so much shame, so much fear… and it can persist and haunt you your whole life… but in that moment, all of it goes away. All of the questions and confusion and frustration just vanishes. And it’s like you exist. And you’re safe. Your love exists. You have a place in the world. It’s a single moment that fills you with hope and happiness like nothing ever can.

And sometimes it’s hard to find that moment again. New loves you find along the way can relieve your burdens in beautiful ways, but none packs the punch as that first one… the first time you knew that another person could truly love you.

Glee reminded me of that moment tonight.

And tomorrow morning, I’ll be going to Brandon Bitner‘s funeral. He was only 14… I don’t know if he ever got the chance to have a moment like that. He might not have even been gay, but I think that’s besides the point.

We all deserve to feel that love, to explore that true expression of ourselves and our bodies with another.

Tomorrow will be a reminder of the way we still deprive so many young people of those moments. We convince them not to love themselves and not to ever consider that another person could ever hold them… or comfort them… or just make them feel safe.

And I just think it’s one of the cruelest things in the world.

…

(There was a similar moment the first time I ever heard a love song that I knew was written by a man, for a man. It was by Levi Kreis, the first openly gay musician I discovered. Listening to his first album, “One of the Ones,” still reminds me of those moments when I first realized how real the love between two men could be. Here’s a compilation of intimate photos of men someone made to Levi’s song, “Just This Good.”)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTezPnYrSMc

I also wanted to track who all wrote about encountering me at the rally. That’s what this post is for. I hope you don’t think it too egotistical or anything. I really wanted to make a difference and get people thinking, so… I don’t know… I’m just kind of curious to see what impact I had. Given how many people dressed as Waldo, you can’t blame me for wondering who found me.

Here are the mentions of me and my sign I’ve found in no particular order. I’ll keep it updated if I find more. I feel like some kind of superhero or something, because I’m nameless in most of these stories.

» I added my sign to the Huffington Post gallery. Won’t you vote for it?

» Chris Johnson of the Washington Blade interviewed me and included me and my sign in his story on the rally.

» Samantha, intern from WYPR’s Midday with Dan Rodricks, interviewed me for Monday’s show.

» Annie Groer of AOL News’ Politics Daily found me. (Her short list of signs also pops up on many comment forums.)

» Jonathan Kay of the Canadian National Post found me.

» New York Magazine found me.

» LA News Monitor found me.

» A blogger named “svalbard” glomped me.

» Some folks on tumblr found me. One reacted to my sign: “Life = made.”

But I’m in a good kind of a pain right now, because I spent almost seven hours on my feet giving out hugs at Saturday’s huge Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. Aside from a few little press interviews and one five-minute break to eat a snack, I was “on duty” from 9 until almost 4. I didn’t keep count, but this militant atheist with a gay agenda easily gave up to 150 hugs/hour, so I guesstimate I gave around 1000-1200 hugs.

(I’m kind of bummed the Christian Science Monitor didn’t quote me in its story despite interviewing me; I was really curious to see how I would have been portrayed there.)

I had no comprehension of what was happening on the stage at the rally. In fact, I didn’t see any clips until the next day! But I had an amazing time, nonetheless—perhaps the best day of my life. I definitely feel I made a difference, and I had to convince myself to leave when I did, though there was still a steady flow of huggable traffic.

I don’t have any sentimental videos to show you, but let me tell you a little bit about what it’s like to give people hugs all day.

First of all, let me share something kind of depressing. A lot of people are afraid to ask for hugs. I spent the whole day standing in the flow of traffic, but I didn’t shout out to solicit at all. Many stopped to take pictures of me and my sign, most of whom politely asked if they could. I usually replied, “So long as I get a hug out of it,” in which case I always did. But there were so very many who read the sign, smiled, and made extended eye contact… but kept walking. Quite a few said, “Keep up the good work,” and a surprising number gently patted my shoulder as they walked past, as if to say, “I’m with you.”

Every once in a while, when someone made casual contact like that, I would offer, “Do you want one?” or even, “Oh, come on, you know you want one.” And there would be this sense of relief and a smile as they eagerly came in for a hug. I didn’t want to push (or guilt) anyone into a hug they didn’t want, but it was amazing to see how many people wanted hugs but didn’t feel it was their place to ask despite my obvious offer.

This, alone, seems to me a stunning commentary on the state of things in our society. Here was a huge group of people at what had to be the most mild-mannered rally of its size ever, and there were people who still felt reluctant to let themselves enjoy some social contact that was freely offered. Are we afraid of each other? Are we afraid of love? Are we afraid to let ourselves be loved? Do people feel like they don’t deserve hugs? I really wonder about the state of things that so many would feel they couldn’t ask someone as obviously goofy as me for a hug.

Don’t get me wrong, there are certainly folks who don’t like hugs. I happily offered many high fives and (terrorist) fist bumps to folks who didn’t want to be touchy-feely. But what I’m talking about is folks who really wanted to hug, but just didn’t feel comfortable asking. It was also evident that seeing other people hug me set an example that “made it okay,” and so folks would come in clumps, but people who didn’t see me hugging someone else were less apt to ask for a hug themselves. This phenomenon, more than anything else, has me inspired to continue my own Free Hugs campaign in the future.

But let’s put those thoughts aside and focus on the positive. Hugs really are amazing. I had hugs of all kind. I had full-on hugs, one-arm hugs, side hugs (not Christian though), hugs from behind, group hugs, long meaningful hugs, awkwardly long waiting-for-the-friend-to-figure-out-the-camera hugs, running-start pick-up-and-spin-around hugs, and whoa-careful-you-almost-tackled-me-to-the-ground hugs. (Starting to understand why I’m sore now?) Hugs can be awkward if you don’t know where each other’s arms or heads are going, but they all turn out just right in the end. Sometimes I could see hug-wanters coming from many yards away by the look in their eyes and the intense bee line they were making for me. Other times people passed by and then turned around and came back because they just couldn’t pass one up.

I hugged people of all genders (including beyond the binary, as one person disclosed), ethnicities, religions, and ages.

I actually found a lot of middle-aged and older women were eager to get hugs. One woman said, “I hope you don’t mind grandma hugs.” Who minds grandma hugs?!?! (If there is a People Against Grandma Hugs group out there somewhere, it is officially my mission to destroy you!) Some younger kids were shy about hugs, and one hug with a little kiddo backfired when my shoulder and his head met in an unfortunate way! He jokingly wobbled around as if I’d just knocked him out. Don’t worry, he was okay! Hug mishaps will happen, and we made sure he got a good one.

Two couples insisted their (“progressive,” as one qualified) infants in strollers be photographed with me. In both cases, I double checked to make sure they weren’t worried I’d rub off on the toddlers. I even hugged a few pregnant women, so all the pro-lifers out there will surely count each as two hugs.

Women seemed slightly more interested in hugs than men. Many had their boyfriends photograph them hugging me, but the boyfriends were not as interested in hugging (though plenty did). When posing for pictures with women (particularly older women), it was not uncommon for their hands to just happen to be on my butt. My butt was never squeezed—at no point did I feel violated—but there their hands were. I felt a little dirty, but not in a bad way! I was happy to see that plenty of guys sought out hugs of their own volition, too. One guy, who was presumably straight and quite confident in his sexuality, insisted on a long, sensual hug, adding, “Yeah, just hold me gently.” He was quite handsome and I happily obliged.

Interestingly, many of the guys who wanted hugs gave real hugs, not feeling the need for the 3-pat “I’m-not-gay” hug variety. Some of these guys even made the necessary “I’m straight, but I’ll still hug you” disclaimer (as if my “gay agenda” meant I only gave gay hugs?), but still gave real hugs. I wonder if the “straight” hug only comes into play between guys who know each other, but with a complete stranger, guys feel more comfortable giving the meaningful kind of hugs we all treasure.

Many folks were quite excited about my gay agenda. A few straight folks weren’t sure if they could really be a part of the gay agenda, but offered that they certainly supported it. I told them I was pretty sure they didn’t have to be gay to be part of the gay agenda, but that I’d get in touch with the gay leadership on high and get back to them.

I felt bad that not all the hugs I gave were of the same caliber. Often times I’d be bombarded in all directions by huggers and I didn’t do them all justice, though plenty complimented me on my hugging ability. Other hugs were incredibly meaningful, and you could tell that those folks really needed those hugs. One woman was particularly gracious to get a hug, because she simply hadn’t had one that day. I was quite surprised by the number of people who expressed, “I love you,” and a few added a kiss on the cheek to the encounter.

One girl let me have one of her french fries. Another fed me a bite of her salad. (I’m really hoping she doesn’t have mono.) One gentleman handed me a candy bar, which I promptly “paid forward” to a very young girl who passed by with a sign that says “I want candy.” At some point my sign inherited a pro-birth control sticker, but my favorite takeaway was a pin that said “Christine O’Donnell is not me!”

At one point, a reporter who was doing some live interviews nearby stepped away from his crew for a moment and said, “I couldn’t not give you one.” He didn’t interview me or anything. He just got his hug then rejoined his crew as they moved onto another area of the rally.

I hugged a Cylon (Toasters United Against Teabaggers), a male butterfly, a rodeo cowboy, Cookie Monster, and Bert. Bert informed me that he had just proposed to his now-fiance (who I also hugged) and that they were going to the courthouse Monday morning to get married. After I congratulated them, he told me she likes it when he wears the Bert suit, which she confirmed. I told her I agreed that he looked good in it. I then suggested that she’s into furries, which she also confirmed. (I later spotted them walking hand-in-hand without his Bert-head, and he looked pretty good without it too.)

I hugged Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Catholics, Christians, and probably more. Several Christians (and only Christians) felt the need to disclose their religion when hugging a “militant atheist” such as myself. One gentleman informed me he was a Christian missionary but he still loved me; I told him I loved him back. Several wished blessings upon me. Toward the end of the day, a woman started talking to me all about her integrated church and how it’s great to have so many different perspectives there. She then told me she’d pray for me and I politely invited her to visit my blog and read about why I prefer people not pray for me. I was shocked and impressed when she then volunteered, “Well, I suppose prayer is more for ourselves than for anybody else.” I smiled and nodded.

Of course, there were plenty of atheists. Some were just as visible about it, but for many, it was a dirty little secret they whispered in my ear as we hugged. Clearly, the message of sanity resonated a lot with the free-thinking community, and I was really delighted to see so many proud nonbelievers. I also relished the chance to visit with them afterward at a gathering Hemant Mehta organized. While I didn’t get to talk to too many people there, I really appreciated the connections I did make and the feeling of being in such rational company.

One hug from the day will stick out in my mind for the rest of my life. The woman informed me that her son, now deceased, had been both gay and atheist, and it meant so much to her that I was there. We exchanged no other words, but no more needed said. A tear formed in her eye as she hugged me with all the love she clearly has for her son.

Giving free hugs is not an original idea, and I won’t pretend that there’s anything special about my own effort to give hugs. It was also an exhausting day, and I was so tired I didn’t go out or touch base with any of my other friends who were in town. Nonetheless, it was one of the most amazing days of my life. There is a lot that we all disagree on, but hugs bridge all gaps. Love bridges all gaps. No day might ever compare to the one I just had, but I look forward to the love we can all share in days to come.

If you asked me for a hug, thanks. It meant as much to me as I hope it did to you. If you didn’t get one, there’s always one waiting… and as many more as you need.

By the way, if you need listening materials for your travels, make sure to download a few episodes of Queer and Queerer!

I would love to see and meet as many readers as possible. If you’re there, I hope you’ll try and find me (and share a hug if you do). I don’t have a fancy smart phone, so I probably won’t be checking twitter throughout the day, though I will be tweeting. Look for me and my sign, or contact me before we get there.

Also, after the rally, I’ll be joining the Atheist/Humanist Gathering rally-goers meet-up hosted by the fabulous Hemant Mehta. I hope you’ll consider joining me and 200 other nonbelievers there and introduce yourself!

This Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear will be entertaining and enjoyable, but I think there will actually be something historic and profound about it as well. I’m excited to just be a part of it, and I hope you are too. See you in DC.

Here’s a preview of my sign. I’m not the best artist, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I decided to go with sanity and fear:

For the record, I have no expectation (and certainly no intention) of dying anytime soon.

So, I thought I’d write some things down now, at age 25, in regards to my funeral. I could, in fact, die tomorrow, which would make this document incredibly valuable. If I change my mind down the road, I’ll write a “Rules and Requests For My Funeral 2.0.” No big whoop. But just in case…

Dear friends, family, and loved ones,

If you’re reading this, you read my blog (thanks!) or I’ve died and someone thought to dig this post up out of my blog archive. I’m really sorry to hear about my death; obviously, I would have tried to avoid it if I could have.  But, we all die someday, and my day arrived. I hope you are coping well.

For the record, if I’m dead, I’m really gone. I know this reads like it’s from “beyond the grave,” but I’m writing it back in 2010. At this point, Zack Ford has totally ended. I haven’t “moved on,” I’m not “in a better place,” I’m not connecting with other lost loved ones, I’m not reincarnating, I’m not still with you “in spirit,” and I’m not looking down on you. The coroner’s word is final. It’s over. Kaput. THE END.

And even if by the time I’ve died we’ve developed Caprica-like avatars, I highly doubt that my avatar is exactly me. If the real me is dead, then the real me is dead. I don’t know what year it is when I’ve died, but if people still aren’t watching Caprica, you should go back and hulu it, if you even still have hulu. Good show.

Now, as you plan my funeral, you’ll probably be thinking about “what Zack would’ve wanted.” This is both a good thing and a bad thing. See, I’m dead. I’m not going to be there for the funeral. And the funeral isn’t for me. It’s for you! So, to a certain extent, however you choose to memorialize me really ought to help you feel good about letting go and remembering me in the way that best helps you continue with your life.

It is possible though that in seeking your own solace, you disrespect me and what I stood for. I’m not around to do anything about it, so, frankly, you can do whatever it is you want to do. But if you knew me, you knew one of my biggest pet peeves is when people selfishly justify things for themselves. So, let me help you keep your conscience in check.

I shouldn’t have to say this, but unfortunately I have to say this: Don’t pray for me. Seriously, don’t. This might be the hardest thing I ask of you and I understand that. But don’t pray that I’m in heaven or that I watch over you or that God watches over my soul or any of that. And certainly don’t pray for others on my behalf. Talk about disgracing my life! There are no gods, and I think you know that I’d be really pissed if you were using your grief for my death as another self-conditioning mechanism to reinforce your delusions of a higher power. (If you do believe in God/prayer and you violate this wish of mine, then I hope I appear to you in your prayer and wag my finger at you for being so selfish and insecure.)

I really do like the idea of living on in hearts and memories. Go with that. Remember me, but do not try to hold onto me. If there’s anything I left behind that can help others, make sure they see it, but don’t try to keep me going. Cherish what you will from my life and move on.

So, no talk of an afterlife and no prayer. Got it? Oh, and if I died unexpectedly, like in a car crash or something, do not put one of those gawdy crosses up on the spot. A cross would have zero significance for my life (and would offend it quite a bit), nor would the spot where I died. Ugh! Also, donate my organs, and then donate my body to science, cremate it, or bury it without embalming it so I become a nice feast. It was hard enough to be sustainable in life; I don’t want to be unsustainable in death, too. (As an aside, at the time of this writing, I’m very sad that SunChips stopped making their decompostable bags because they were too loud. Christ, Americans are whiny. Do you still have SunChips in the future? I hope so. They’re delicious! Garden Salsa are my favorite.)

I think that covers my most important wishes. If you’re curious about what kind of memorial celebration I’d like, I’ve shared some thoughts below. It’s a lot to ask, but I think it would be the best way to celebrate my life. Is it feasible? I don’t know, but I’m dead, so what do I care? You going to tell a dead guy that he thinks too much of himself? I don’t think so. Well, maybe. Besides, I already said I want this to be what works best for you; so you can ignore everything else I put forth for all I care. (I’m dead, so I don’t care at all.)

Anyways, I think it should be an all-day affair and all of my Facebook friends should be invited, plus anyone else. Why all my Facebook friends? Well, because I was diligent enough about making sure that no one was my FB friend if they didn’t make at least the slightest impact on my life, so they should all get the chance to be a part of remembering me. It’s not like they’re all going to come, and I don’t expect it of anyone. But it’d be really cool if they did, because I know a lot of very different and interesting people and you all might learn some interesting things from each other. Everyone should wear name tags.

Why all-day? Well, because during the day, I want people to do a service project! It’s not a requirement for people who want to participate in just the evening’s events, but it should certainly be an available option for those interested. Just find some great way that everybody interested can take a little time to make other people’s lives better. (Please keep the cause secular.)

Now, I wasn’t some grand humanitarian, and I don’t want you to think I have this inflated sense of my impact on the world. I just figure, if I’m going to give people suggestions on how best to memorialize me, I ought not to be totally selfish about it. Plus, I know that there have been a ton of very loving and giving people in my life and I don’t want grieving for me to get in the way of the potential you all still have to do good works.

You know how you feel when you finish a good book (if you still have books)? It’s like… you’re kind of bummed that the book is over, but it’s kind of exhilarating because it was this complete story. It’s over now, but it was complete, and it was great, and you want to take the impact that the book had and incorporate it into your life and into your thinking. That’s kind of how I think about life. Death isn’t tragic (except when it is); it’s just the closing of a book. A memorial should be a celebration of what was great about the life and what can be taken away from it, not a time to mourn the end of it.

So what I would ideally envision then for the evening is some sort of epic roast/concert, with plenty of alcohol for those who fancy it. It should be very Ford Fest-like. In fact, why not do it in Ford Hall? That’d be fitting. People should be set up to have a good time and maybe they’ll even want to hook up with a new friend afterward, because, why not?

Why a roast? Well, enough people have told me in life that I’m going to Hell, so I might as well burn at my funeral! Besides, I know that I’m a quirky enough character that people could get some good laughs. I’m sure MG, if he’s still around, would make a great host, and I’m sure there are plenty of folks who would jump at the opportunity to tell some very funny stories about me. At least, I hope they would. (If I’m not currently a very interesting person, could some of the people reading this in the present give me a head’s up so I can make some necessary adjustments? Thanks.)

And it should be a concert too. I’m not going to tell you what songs to pick, because, come on, it’s more fun if you have artistic license! But music was super important in my life, so here are some general suggestions if you’re looking for ideas:

I would actually like a big fabulous gospel choir to be utilized for at least one song, but of course I’d prefer if the song’s lyrics were not too gospelly… like, at all. In fact, despite my normal anal retentiveness, feel free to rewrite any lyrics for humorous effect. But I want the crowd on its feet and arm-in-arm having a good ol’ time, you know? At least one sing-along would be great, too, as well as some dancing. There should be some sexy musical theatre with belty voices blending some fierce harmonies in a hugely over-produced (but low-budget) fashion. Any classical music should be comedically over-dramatic or silly and fun. Special musical guests ought to include a gay men’s chorus and/or Ithacappella, a winner of Molson Canadian Idol (LD), brass players from the 518 (RP and JH), and of course my siblings of Mu Phi Epsilon.

Given the amount of work some people would have to put in to make that kind of event happen, you should totally take an offering and/or make the whole event a fundraiser for a good secular cause. Why miss out on another great opportunity to help others? (Please do not try to actually profit from my death. Covering the costs to humor my over-inflated sense of importance is fine, but make sure the rest goes to charity.)

At the end of the three-and-a-half hour extravaganza, people should stay up late talking (and not necessarily about me) and then go out for (probably a very late) brunch the next morning. The more time for old friends and complete strangers to learn from each other, the better. Don’t forget those name tags.

Then, get on with your lives, please.

Remember: No afterlife, no prayer, no Bible readings, and no burial, but plenty of drinking and debauchery is fine. And just do good works. I wasn’t a saint, but neither are you.

Carry on (but with my love in your hearts),

Zack

(By the way, this post is just me talking about myself, so if you’re here for news or commentary, sorry! But hey, I might end up saying something poignant about life—you never know.)

Year 25 was definitely unlike any previous year of my life. It was the first full year that I did not live my life according to prescription. There were the 18 years of grade school and the 6 of higher education, and then I got this wacky year where nothing was according to plan. What a good thing that was!

You know, I could easily bemoan the economy and the challenges of the job search, and certainly there are those out there eager to mock me for it. A full year has passed and you still don’t have a real job, Zack? Yeah, it’s true. Get over it. It’s actually been a great year, because I’ve had to find a way to make meaning of my life despite not fitting the mold I’d always had in my head for how it was supposed to progress.

It’s fun having a September birthday, because I can measure years of my life parallel to school years. This was my first non-school year (and hopefully my last). But the Fall still brought very important changes, because it was at the beginning of October when I launched the redesign of my blog. Two weeks later I was reporting from the National Equality March. Suddenly, I felt like I had a legitimate blog and I was connecting with other bloggers and activists who were excited about my work. It might not sound like much, but those changes really set the tone for the year that went on to include the Prop 8 Trial, Creating Change, working for the Central PA LGBT Center, developing the Queer and Queerer Podcast with Peterson, and Netroots Nation.

In some ways, it’s kind of felt like an intermission, but in other ways, it’s just been a refreshing break. I think we all need to take time to explore life and find ourselves in spite of what anyone wants for us. Heck, it wasn’t what I wanted for myself, but I definitely have no regrets!

In addition to being a test of creativity in the absence of structure, it was also a test of resiliency. If you had asked me on September 8, 2009 if I would still be confident and optimistic if a year later I still didn’t have a job that put my degree to use, I probably wouldn’t have been thrilled with speculating. But here I am, and I have so much work to be proud of, even if I’m not “on track.”

Truly, we spend our whole lives reconciling who we are against who others want us to be. In any of these struggles, we come out (often literally) stronger because we believed in ourselves. I can look back on year 25 as a year of transition, but a year in which I stayed true to myself in spite of circumstance. And now I can look forward to a new quarter-century with a piece of myself that I never would have known I had.

Cheers to you my friends and readers, and everyone who has been a part of my life! Cheers to life! Cheers to making it work!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ch0BALz2wnE

Now, all you Mac-folks can point and laugh. I’m not becoming a Mac. Your OS has advantages and disadvantages as does mine. You have preferences and so do I. Would you have gotten this glitch? Probably not. That alone does not make your OS superior. I would rather have to deal with an occasional glitch than a proprietary company that censors the content I can access.

Though the past few days have been stressful, I can say this about the process:

» I was able to fix the problem myself (i.e. I didn’t have to send it away).

» It didn’t cost me a penny to fix.

» I didn’t lose anything.

» My computer is running more smoothly now as a result of the maintenance I ran on it.

So, I’m all good now, and will probably resume regular blogging after this holiday weekend.

I have to say, I was surprised at how much my mood was affected by the availability of my computer. I certainly have no trouble when I’m in situations where I know I won’t have access, but when I should have access and the tools I’m used to using aren’t serving me the way they should, I was rather distraught. I felt out of the loop, disconnected.

You know, there are a lot of people who believe in some higher connectedness or consciousness. I think anything ethereal is preposterous. But, I do think that the internet is reshaping the human consciousness in a very observable way. The way we relate to each other and the globalization of our society are quite marvelous, and I’m not sure we’ve all quite realized what an impact these changes have had on each of us as individuals.

At any rate, I’m back!

And here’s a tip for all you computer users out there: Just in case of whatever, back up your system!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIoG4PlEPtY

If you haven’t been following my twitter, you should be. It’s the best way to track what’s been happening here at the conference. In this post, though, I want to talk about some ups and downs of the conference. I have a few more grumbles than you might expect, so stick with  me. Redeeming positives are further below.

I really think that, in general, Netroots Nation really needs to be better at modeling. There have been a number of things that have made this conference slightly frustrating in ways that I think could easily be improved.

For example, the wireless internet access has sucked. To use the internet in your hotel room is ridiculously expensive and the service is really not reliable at all. (It was quite arduous just getting this post up this morning.) The Netroots folks have set up a free wireless system in the convention area, but it has been rife with problems. It was down more often than not yesterday and even when it was up, it was not always consistent. There were a number of times I was sitting in a panel trying to follow my Tweetdeck and getting nothing while folks next to me had service.

This seems to me to be bad form. To many, the quality of the internet connection you have while in Las Vegas would be negligible, but we’re here at a conference about using the internet! If I were part of the conference planning group, my first priority in selecting a venue would be confirming that they have quality, reliable internet and don’t charge guests an arm and a leg for it. It’s hard to be a good Netroots activist without the Net!

Surprisingly, that hasn’t been the only technology fail. I’ve been in several panels already where the presenters were struggling with media in their presentations. In some cases it wasn’t their fault, but I still think the result was that it undermined their presentation. If you are here at Netroots to show your eagerness to interact with the blogosphere, you should at least be competent at using your own computer. I don’t mean to sound petty or whiny; I think there’s a credibility issue here. If your words are saying “I want to engage with people through technology” and your actions say “I don’t know how to engage with technology,” the presentation kind of feels disingenuous.

And, by far, my biggest complaint is the level of engagement. Most of the sessions throughout the day are “panels.” There are a few trainings and caucuses, but panels predominate. I went to four yesterday. The topics of those panels were great. I attended two that related to scientific literacy and education standards, one about marriage equality, and one about using social media. Sounds great, right? But the panels themselves betray the very values the Netroots presents for itself.

This thought occurred to me during the social media panel. The panelists were talking about the importance of reaching out to others in the blogosphere rather than expecting others to just come to us. As I tweeted from the panel: Treat online people like people and allies, not sheep. This expectation of community participation is at the core of Netroots activism; it keeps the playing field level by expecting everyone to participate actively.

The panels accomplish the opposite. They are groups of four or five who talk at us and then expect us to just ask them questions. It’s not really conversational, and it just seems to go against the very culture we seem to be trying to promote. Granted, I’m also biased as an educator and a performer; my top priority is always to keep people engaged and participating. The folks on these panels are brilliant and can speak eloquently to their issues, and there are certainly times when a panel format is ideal. I just think it’s odd that such a format is embraced as the primary format of engagement throughout the conference.

So, those are my primary complaints. They’re not really big ones, but they definitely give me a context for how to think about the rest of the conference and how to get the most out of it.

I have to say, Twitter is a pretty amazing tool for connecting with others. It can be annoying as hell when the hashtag search is full of retweets, but it does wonders for shared experiences. I’ve actually met a lot of people here at the conference through our exchange of tweets. I think it’s easy to think of Twitter as just a social tool, but it also is, itself, a great venue for delivering information. I won’t be blogging as much about the content of some of these workshops because Twitter is taking care of a lot of it. A number of people have actually come up to me and told me how much they appreciate my tweets, which makes me feel like it’s not all in vain!

It’s also been amazing to meet my readers. Honestly, before I got to this conference, I wasn’t sure many folks out there were really following this little ol’ blog, and it warms my heart to know you appreciate what I’m doing here. I hope I don’t sound as egotistical as that blowhard Ed Schultz (from MSNBC) who spoke last night. It’s just been an incredible confidence booster to feel like I’m not just wasting my time.

I’m certainly doing my best to sell myself here (though not in that way—I know this is Vegas, but seriously!). I continue to meet incredible people at every turn; there’s no doubt this weekend will have been a life-changing experience. I feel like a little kid at Disney World or something. I’m super excited to see others willing to promote my work! Pam Spaulding linked to my post from earlier this week; Joe Jervis has a picture of me on his site; and I even did a video interview with Minnesota-based The Uptake.

I really and truly feel like a part of this community, and I love it. I must continue to extend my thanks to all the amazing people who have made it possible for me to be here and who continue to be great mentors!! Exciting change can happen when we all work together toward our shared goals.

I have to get ready to get back into the fray! Go back to following my tweets for more updates throughout the day!

And in case you’re wondering, I played one dollar on a slot machine. I now have one less dollar. Cheers from Vegas!

As I pack up and get ready, I want to take just a moment to reflect on the week I’ve already had. I had the distinct honor of standing as a groomsman in my friends’ wedding here in Iowa. It was not a same-sex wedding, but I was certainly proud to be part of an Iowa wedding nonetheless.

Before, during, and after my two years living in Iowa, I would get a common kind of reaction from folks back east. Once they figured out which one was Iowa (the one with the potatoes, right?), there was always a sort of, “Oh… Iowa,” reaction, followed by, “I bet that was fun.”

Truth be told, I did have some challenges living in Iowa. Heck, this blog started because I was having trouble communicating and relating to some others while I was here. But the truth is, Iowa is a pretty cool place.

In addition to the wedding, I spent five days visiting a whole bunch of wonderful people who impacted my life while I was here (as well as playing an inordinate amount of late-night gaming). I remembered what truly awesome friends I did have out here, and how Iowa doesn’t necessarily deserve the assumption inherent in people’s reaction to the thought of it. Iowa left an imprint on my heart that I cannot simply brush off.

It’s odd to think about flying to Las Vegas from here. I am going to Netroots Nation thanks to Freedom to Marry, but I am leaving a state with marriage equality to go be a part of a conference in a state without marriage equality. In fact, I’m leaving one of the few states where I can legally commit to the love of my life to go to the only state where I can legally pay for a hot trick.

It puts things in perspective a bit. If morality is supposedly the underpinning of the laws in our country, then shouldn’t the laws promote the activities more people consider moral? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas because those are the stories people are often ashamed or embarrassed to tell. What happens in Iowa is beautiful and true and ought to be shared everywhere.

Despite this somewhat disappointing juxtaposition, I am excited for the next five days of my journey. I’m going to commune with amazing other bloggers and activists and perhaps make some of the most important and life-changing connections of my life. For those of you who have missed your daily dose of ZackFord, get ready, because I’m sure I’ll be over compensating at Netroots. Stay tuned, there’s a wild road ahead!

I was waiting until the holiday was over to share the good news:

I’m going to Netroots Nation this month!!!

Here’s the official announcement on Open Left.

Thanks to all your diligent voting (and your tolerance of my nagging reminders to do so), I was a winner in Freedom to Marry’s Blog 4 Equality contest!!

Congratulations to all the finalists who are continuing to do wonderful work!

You can expect a lot of posts from Vegas with all the wonderful experiences I’m having there!

A lot of thanks to everybody who is helping make my trip possible. I think it speaks highly of the LGBT Netroots that there are great folks willing to be mentors to relative newbs like myself. A special thank you goes out to my friend Hemant Mehta who helped support my candidacy. Thank you atheist community!!

If you voted for me, I assume it means you care about the work that I do in some way. I surely hope it means that you appreciate my writing here on the blog, since that’s what the contest was about. If any of you who voted want to make special requests about topics I might not normally cover, feel free to leave these ideas in the comments. I so appreciate your support that I feel I have to give something back, so how about more of the quality content you voted for? Let me know, folks, and again, THANKS SO MUCH!!!

Except, I did blow a guy off like that once. And for all the reasons in the world, you’re going to think me pretty pathetic for the one that could rile me in such a way to just stop talking to someone, but hear me out.

My issue with him? The word “gay.” He was a grad student in linguistics.

Now, language is cool; I love playing with it. But this character was a descriptive linguist, through and through. We’re talking “language hippy” here. To him, there was nothing more cool or interesting than letting language just flow and be whatever it’ll be to whomever whenever. He thought the ebb and flow of language was sacred, and he would not disturb its pure and natural course regardless of the circumstances.

This did not sit well with me at all. I’m much more of a prescriptive grammarian. Words have power, and we have established rules for grammar for a very important reason: to communicate with each other as effectively as possible. I love using these rules when it comes to writing, because they allow me to write in ways that are easily comprehensible and conversational.

Consider that in this post I have already made effective use of an em dash, an oxford comma (which I will never give up—here comes another!), a semi-colon, and a colon—punctuation marks some might go their entire lives without using. And using them comes naturally to me, because my goal is to communicate as effectively as I can!

Of course, I’m not bound to cold, sterile writing. I also used “blow off,” “ebb and flow,” and “language hippy,” expressions that I’m sure you, as my reader, will understand, even though the way that I use them does not fit with their literal definitions. And so while I’m a stickler for prescriptive use of language, I also appreciate that descriptive grammar has its place.

Heck, I’m a blogger. If it weren’t for descriptive grammar, we wouldn’t have the word “blog.” Also, in a fleeting tribute to my rural roots, I have been heard to say “ya’ll” on occasion. (Come on, ya’ll, having a second-person plural can be very useful!)

Despite my flexibility, I still proudly identify as a SNOOT. You might call me a Grammar Nazi, a Syntax Snob, or the Language Police, and after I remind you about Godwin’s Law, I’ll take it as a compliment. I’m proud to know language rules and I appreciate the way they help me communicate. If new rules emerge or standards change, that’s great! Technology has certainly had a profound effect on the way we use words, and it makes perfect sense to me that we grow to accommodate this new paradigm of vocabulary and syntax. However, if we let words mean whatever they want to mean, they lose any meaning at all.

And that’s exactly why I blew off the language hippy. He thought the word “gay” had no meaning.

Somehow, we got talking about the expression “that’s so gay.” He argued that there was nothing wrong with using it to refer to something undesirable. It was just a new use of “gay.” It had nothing to do with homosexuality and it had no negative impact whatsoever on gay people. He had no problem with young people using the expression and didn’t think teachers should discourage it in any way. “It’s just the natural evolution of language,” he told me.

I was so pissed I just stopped talking to him. I found his perspective ignorant, delusional, and abhorrent. As a confident gay man and social justice educator, I still feel a little sting when people say “that’s so gay.” Usually, they are completely oblivious to the fact that “gay” actually means “homosexual,” but this ignorance is irrelevant and unforgivable. Anyone who is gay knows what the word means. And “that’s so gay” clearly derives from decades of negative attitudes towards gays and lesbians (not unlike the roots of other identity-related words like “lame,” “faggot,” and “nigger”). How this linguist could ignore the history of a word in favor of its natural fluidity just disgusted me.

Words and language have incredible power. All those “sticks and stones” and “thick skin” turns of phrase constitute propaganda spread by people who don’t want to take responsibility for their own (mis)use of language. We know that language helps maintain privilege in our society in some profound ways. We also know that language like “that’s so gay” has harsh consequences for the mental health of young people. Just because people use “gay” in that way does not make it okay to use. Achieving social justice requires we be conscientious about the words we use and that we take responsibility for their impact on others.

My brief online discourse with that linguist was years ago, but I still find myself irritated by his obliviousness. That’s why I’ll always be a prescriptive grammarian; I don’t want to ever encourage others to be lazy with their language. The consequences could be severe.

I’ll do my best to not be too SNOOTy, but friends, if I ever correct your grammar or protest your word choice, I hope you will not judge me for my tact. My goal will always be to help you be a better communicator and to make sure the language we use doesn’t hurt people. If you choose to respond defensively by disparaging me for my unyielding affect of perfectionism, hopefully the inherent subconscious negativity that concerned me in the first place will be revealed.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-C5L2A4BJQ

The reference is at about the 1-minute mark. The whole address is lovely, so please listen to the full thing. It’ll brighten your Monday, especially if your Monday is as dreary as mine is here in central Pennsylvania.

I’m proud to be a part of the Ithaca College community, and I’m honored to have had the opportunity to help define the experience of the class of 2010 in just the slightest of ways.

Read my letter to the Class of 2010 here.

Here’s a funny picture of me to hold you over, courtesy my buddy Bil Browning.

I’m not feeling the greatest about life today. We all have days like that. I thought I’d write a little poem to demonstrate how atheism can be uplifting.

Some Days Just Suck
Zack Ford – May 18, 2010

Some days just suck.

Some days you don’t feel useful.
Some days you don’t feel worthy.
Some days you don’t feel competent.
Some days you don’t feel loved.

Some days just suck.

Some days there is no one to blame.
Some days it’s no one’s fault.
Some days nothing can be done.
Some days are just the way they are.

Some days just suck.

Some days you can’t flirt.
Some days you can’t visit friends.
Some days you can’t give of yourself to the world.
Some days you need a little affirmation anyway.

Some days just suck.

Some people give God credit for good days.
Some people give God blame for bad days.
Some people give God credit for bad days.
God doesn’t have a plan.

Some days just suck.
And that’s that.

And some days are all the better for it.

Unfortunately, we know nothing about the atheist coming out process. While there have been decades of research on coming out, it has all focused on sexual orientation and gender identity. And while there have been decades of research on spiritual identity development, all such studies continue to be biased toward belief in a higher power with almost none paying any heed to the unique experience of atheists.

One of my professional/life goals is to help fill this deficit of research so that nonbelievers can be better understood in the context of a society that privileges religion. In the absence of the resources to conduct such studies presently, I will instead look back at my own experience as a case study.

When I tell my coming out story (the atheist one), there is a significant milestone. Like coming out as gay, I think coming out as an atheist involves a connecting of past experiences, a revelation of how past inklings and actions demonstrate that one has been on the path to identifying as an atheist for quite some time. The significant milestone I reference in my story is my college admissions essay, which I finished in January, 2003. I was 17, I was participating in Bible youth groups weekly, and it would be another year and a half before I acknowledged I was gay.

I remember being frustrated with this essay. I had a lot to say and not a lot of space in which to say it. The essay got edited a lot. Ultimately, it had to be cut in half. One of the schools I was applying to (Ithaca College, the one I ended up going to) had a max word length of 350 words. I used every single one of them.

At this point, I think I’ll let the essay speak for itself. You will be surprised by what I had to say seven years ago. The prompt was: Please select a topic of personal interest and explain its importance to you.

Having been born into a family of devout Catholics, heavy religious devotion is always knocking at my door.  However, I choose not to answer it.  My case differs slightly from the families of my mother’s eleven siblings.  My parents adopted me at birth after extensive attempts to bear a biological child, some involving medical procedures that the church shunned.

Ignoring the pressure from her family, my mother chose not to raise me in the church.  I was still baptized Catholic, but I never attended more than three Masses a year.  Forever shall I appreciate the prudent way she instilled upon me many of the church’s strong morals and a strong belief in God without smothering me in the prayers, rituals, and long church services.

My academic upbringing led to a great inner debate that continues to this day.  I don’t doubt that God exists, but I question it constantly.  I know there’s got to be something out there, but there are just so many conflicts between the Bible and the world of science.

In addition, almost every conflict in the world’s history has stemmed from dissension among religions, whether it was the Crusades, 9-11 and the Middle East struggle, or even political wars like the American Civil War.

Regardless, I live my life for Him.  I dedicate myself to others through friendship and volunteering and I try never to give less than 100%.  I also believe in abstinence until marriage and I plan never to voluntarily consume or use tobacco, drugs, or alcohol, having lost both my grandfathers to their destructive natures.

As an additional pursuit of music, I play the organ for a local church.  Every week, I overhear Sunday School classes that discuss generalizations in accordance with the strong conservativeness that abounds in my rural community.  Often I want to interrupt and argue, but I restrain myself.  Many churches tend to confine the scope of their congregations’ perspectives of life.

The Constitution grants us not only freedom of religion, but also freedom from religion.  If I can be raised well without intense church attendance, maybe others can too.

Not the Zack Ford you might be used to reading here on the blog.

The abstinence claim was an easy way to closet myself without realizing it. I did eventually start drinking, but I’m still conservative about it. After I left that summer, I never again set foot in the church that had employed me and celebrated my musicianship. Friendship and volunteering are no less important to me today.

But look at some of that language I used!

Forever shall I appreciate the prudent way she instilled upon me many of the church’s strong morals and a strong belief in God without smothering me in the prayers, rituals, and long church services.

That’s right. At one point in my life, I gave the Catholic Church credit for morality. It makes me nauseous to think about now.

I also appreciated that I’d been taught to believe in God. I no longer maintain that sentiment.

I don’t doubt that God exists, but I question it constantly.  I know there’s got to be something out there, but there are just so many conflicts between the Bible and the world of science.

I did not doubt God. At the time, I drew a distinction between religion and beliefs. It was organized religion I despised, not the idea of God. I truly believed God could exist and be worshiped in the absence of organized religion. Religion was the problem, not God. And yet, even then, I knew that there were conflicts between what God was supposed to be and what actually could be. But, for me, my questions were about God; I was not questioning of God.

Regardless, I live my life for Him.

Wow. It still blows my mind that I’d say that. It scares me to think that despite my questions, I had that sense of devotion. I am sure that the inevitable Ford Model of Atheist Identity Development will lend itself to such a phase—a separation from the structure but not the beliefs. That was how I’d explain it: I have my own relationship with Jesus.

My religious identity went pretty latent after that. My coming out as gay journey took over, with its own implications for my worldview, and it wasn’t until really the Fall of 2007 that I started to seriously question again—to seriously think about how I identified. I had already adopted an agnostic point of view with a desire to simply stay away from religious thinking entirely. Everybody else thought it important, so yeah sure, “I believe in God,” but the words meant nothing to me. I started identifying as a Pastafarian, because from a political point of view I thought the FSM was hilarious and brilliant, and I asked for The God Delusion for Christmas (I’ll always laugh about that).

I was a surefire atheist before I’d even gotten halfway through Dawkins’ masterpiece.

How strange to now look back and see how much my thinking has changed. I now call “God” a delusion, a projection only within a person’s own imagination. I say I don’t respect beliefs at all, calling them unfounded ideas without intellectual merit. I chastise the mere idea that morals come from religion, pointing out that religion unfairly claimed moral reasoning as its own to falsely inflate its importance. I no longer abstractly give thanks, but if there is one thing I appreciate in my life, it is the fact that my thinking progressed beyond devotion to invisible deities. I life my life for me and for the people of the world. That, I think, is the most admirable form of devotion I can offer.

Surely, there are more stories to be told. Surely, there is a model for identity development waiting to be formulated so that we can better appreciate and support atheists who are struggling to come out.

But, I guess we first have to recognize that being an atheist isn’t a bad thing. We’ve got a ways to go.

We’re just about at the one-year anniversary of my job search (a.k.a. the completion of my Master’s degree). I sure didn’t expect then that a year later I’d still be looking, but who could’ve? The economy has gone through some tough times and is recovering slowly and there is nothing I, nor any of my colleagues, can do about it. Knowing how many other talented young professionals out there are still waiting for their own chance to get their foot in the door has been my comfort for the past year. (Just like being an atheist, it’s kind of comforting to know that “It is what it is.”)

The job search has had its ups and its downs, but has been reasonably tolerable. I’ve kept myself busy and engaged, I’m healthier and in better shape than I’ve probably ever been, and I’m still hopeful and confident—most days. Some days, I’m eager to write about the job search, but not for good reason, and so I restrain myself. While there has been no evidence to suggest that my blog has been a negative when it comes to my search, I certainly don’t want to develop a reputation for being a petulant child or an unprofessional candidate. Nevertheless, I know that I’m not the only person who has felt not only impatient, but in fact disrespected by various search processes.

Since I’m not in a generally good mood today, I think it’s safe to share a few gems from my experiences to laugh at how ridiculous this process can be. It’s easy to get pissed by a lot of things that happen, but I think it’s important to be able to laugh at them too and keep your head held high. So, here are some little stories from past searches, and then below them I’ll share some insights on the job market from what I’ve heard this week.

The first story comes from a large, well-known public university. I don’t want to identify it, but I will point out that this particular search did not ask for a cover letter. Here is the only message I received, which came from the office that houses the position I applied for:

Dear Zack,

Thank you for your interest in the _____ position at _______ and for your impressive application.  After considering all of the applications you were one of our top candidates. Unfortunately, at this time, we are not extending an interview to you . We wish you the best of luck in your job search.

Sincerely,
__________

Wait, what? I was so dumbfounded when I got this email back in August that I had no idea how to reply. I don’t actually know what happened with this position. It might not have even been filled. All I know is they loved me, but I got no interview. I remember feeling pretty insulted by the email at the time, but now it’s just kind of funny.

The second story comes from a job search where I actually had gotten a little further along in the process. This position was at a fairly prestigious private liberal arts school, essentially the opposite of the previous example. Here was the email I got in December:

Dear Zack,

Thank you for your  interest in our position.  We had an extremely competitive candidate pool for the _______ position, and we have pursued another candidate for our opening. Thank you for taking the time to come to _______ to meet our search committee. The committee enjoyed meeting you and our discussions.

We wish you success with your job search and in the future. Thank you for your interest in our organization.

Sincerely,
_______

Sounds like a standard rejection email, right?

Well, here was the reply I sent:

Hi _______!

In case you are sending this email to other candidates, I wanted to alert you to the fact I never came to _______ or met the search committee. This is the first I’ve heard from you since my phone interview.

Thanks for letting me know.

–Zack

I got no further reply, let alone apology. Did I cross a professional line with my reply? Maybe, but it had been two months since my phone interview and I found this situation pretty insulting. Besides, the goal of my reply was to make sure other candidates didn’t get a similarly insulting email. (To their credit, at least they informed me of the resolution of the search.)

Again, now I can look back and laugh. You almost have to.

This week, I’ve been hearing a lot of buzz. Unfortunately, it started off with a round of bad news: two rejections on Monday. It’s hard to really get mad about these rejections. I know that there are about 150-200 applying for the same jobs I’m applying for, and I’m only a new professional! It’s just a tough market.

One of my rejections this week was upsetting though. Here’s the email exchange I had with the search chair at another small private school. My emails are in green:

(Feb. 24)

Good Afternoon,

Thank you for applying for the ______ position at ______.  Your resume indicates that you may be a good fit for our position.  I’m writing to inquire if you will be at the ACPA National Conference at the end of March.  I will be interviewing candidates for the position at the conference and would like to schedule time to meet with you.

If you could please respond either way with your availability at ACPA (or not), your candidate number and whether you are still interested in pursuing our opening, I would appreciate it.

I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Sincerely,
_______

(Feb. 24)

Hello!

Unfortunately, I had to make the decision that it is not economically feasible for me to attend the ACPA National Conference this year. I am definitely still interested in pursuing this opening and hope we can find another amenable way to connect.

Thanks!

–Zack Ford

(Feb. 25)

Hi Zack,

Thank you for your prompt response.  Our process will not move forward until mid to late March.  I will keep you updates as we progress.

Thank you,
________

(Mar. 29)

Hello!

I just wanted to follow up to see if there will still be an opportunity to interview for the ______ position. My understanding was that my candidacy was not solely dependent on my availability at the ACPA conference, which I could not afford to attend this past month. As I am still quite interested in the position, I would appreciate an update on the progress of the search.

Much thanks,

Zack Ford

(Mar. 31)

Zack,

At this point we are reviewing the resumes of all candidates to determine on campus interviews.

If the committee decides to proceed with your candidacy you will receive notification within the next two weeks.

I appreciate your interest in our position.

Sincerely,
________

And then I got my rejection letter Monday. In other words, they wanted to interview me, but only enough to interview me at ACPA and not enough to have a phone conversation. That’s their right, of course, and I’m sure they’re not the only school who depends solely on placement conferences, but it just seems a bit exclusionary. Still, I have to be able to just laugh. Did I get hosed? Maybe. Life goes on.

Today I got two phone calls, each of which I think says something interesting about the job market, but both demonstrating that it’s still an employer’s market. The positions are competitive, so the employers can be picky.

The first call was an inquiry as to the extent of my experience. How much was full time? How much was part time? There wasn’t a whole lot to say, though I appreciate them giving me the chance to clarify. The gentleman I spoke with was kind and understanding that many of the experiences on my résumé do not really speak to those kinds of cookie-cutter measurements. Nevertheless, I can’t help but wonder if the end result of the phone call was that I was ruled out as a candidate for not meeting blanket standards for previous “experience”. They certainly have every right to do that and I can’t entirely blame them for doing so either, but it makes me think that it’s one less open door to get my foot into.

The other call I got, in regards to a different position, was an inquiry into my salary expectations/requirements. Again, this would be a way for the school to pick and choose from the candidates, but this time the process might work in my favor. I made it clear that, as an entry-level professional, I don’t really have requirements for my salary, and more importantly, the salary would not be a deciding factor in my consideration of the position. It’s the kind of work I want to be doing, and that’s why I’m interested. In this scenario, I might benefit from my “lack” of professional experience.

And so after feeling kind of down about how things were going, I’m again energized knowing that searches are moving along and that I’m actually being considered as a candidate. A year of job searching means I have a year of experience job searching. And while some days I feel like I’m waiting for Godot, I still very much see employment in my field of choice as a real possibility.

Here is the post I just contributed to Fresh over at Feast of Fun. Please consider joining fabulis (it’s SUPER easy because it connects with Facebook) and voting me up this week so I have the opportunity to become a part of it!

Hey everybody,

I need your help, so please read through to the bottom!.

If you didn’t see it, my buddy Phil Reese wrote a piece (literally) about fabulis last week. I had never heard of it, but I’m guessing from Fausto and Marc’s rankings that it’s quite popular here at FOF. Please feel free to make fun of me for my… delayed entrance.

I really like the idea of fabulis. Even though leadership in the greater LGBT movement seems to be disproportionately dominated by gay men, there still seems to be a special camaraderie among gay men as a sub-community. And why shouldn’t we all declare our fabulisness? We know it’s true, and while fabulis bits ultimately aren’t of particular value, I think the phenomenon lends itself to social reinforcement.

In less nerdy lingo, we all get to make each other happy. We get to celebrate our fabulisness in a fun competitive-but-nobody-loses way. And while we’re at it, we get to see all the fabulis events out there to connect with each other and to strengthen the bonds of our community.

As an activist and an educator, I’m not one to shrug off these social events. Every time we gather, it’s an opportunity to embolden our community. It’s an opportunity to raise awareness, rally support, or recruit volunteers. I can only hope that a network like fabulis helps bring more people to these different events. Not everyone likes hanging out at the gay clubs/bars, but fabulis helps us connect in many new and exciting ways.

The biggest problem I see is that the gay community is so focused on life and culture in the big cities. From my little rural town in central Pennsylvania, I can get to NYC, Philly, or DC relatively easily, but it is definitely not affordable on a regular basis. My city, Harrisburg, is not very fabulis, but only because it isn’t celebrated as such.

That’s why I was excited to hear about fabulis’s “Young fabulis Advisor” program. It’s an opportunity to help contribute to fabulis and expand its potential. As a 24-year-old with a background in education and the experience of social media through blogging andpodcasting, I am primed and ready to help fabulis grow in new ways that serve our community. I still want fabulis to be fun, but I think it can do a whole lot more in the way it supports gay folks in areas outside the big cities, where being fabulis is still just as important.

That’s why I need your help! This week, I’m asking you to share your extra fabulis bits with me so that I have a chance to become a Young fabulis Advisor. By helping me towards this goal, I will then be able to help you by offering my skills and ideas to fabulis and helping it be the best social network it can be. Many of you might also be interested in becoming a YfA, and I encourage you to try as well!

Thank you in advance for your support. I look forward to this fresh opportunity to make a difference for our community. Please click here to find my fabulis profile and vote me up with your bits. I will do my best to return the favor as I’m able!

Warmest regards!

–Zack Ford
zackfordblogs.com

This poem is unsarcastically dedicated to the 150+ individuals who apply for every job I apply for and everyone else who is job searching. You may be my competition, but we’re all in this together.

Recess
Zack Ford – May 2, 2010

I sing myself

With notes unwritten

The verse lost in trite strophes

Of years gone by.

I dream the Dream

I long knew a myth

For I know not what else to dream

And now wonder if I dream at all.

A crisp bell resonates

Through lofty windows summoning

But with nary a door to enter

I remain perched on hot rubber mulch.

The game plays on without a turn

The bell rings frequent irregular intervals

Soon a door will open for me

“Soon,” Godot says, “…soon.”

Last weekend I visited my alma mater, Ithaca College and enjoyed three days packed of visiting old friends and making new ones, plus incredible concerts by Ithacappella and the Ithaca College Chorus (plug: check out awesome new music from the amazing Nate Tao ’10). A lot has changed in the three years since I last called myself a student there, both in terms of who is there and even how the campus looks. Nonetheless, my joyous weekend was defined by how little had changed.

In terms of people I saw that I knew, it was as if no time had passed (similar to my reunion experience at New Year’s). Even though I was seeing many beloved friends and colleagues for the first time in three years, the rapport and camaraderie hadn’t missed a beat. While this speaks to the quality of these friendships, I think it also speaks to how Ithaca College has shaped who we are as student, staff, or faculty.

This was only reinforced by the new connections I made. Whether it was fellow alumni I was meeting for the first time or current students playing frisbee on the Campus Center quad, there was an assumed quality and respect inherent in these new connections. There was an openness—a social integrity—that can only be explained by the one similarity we shared: a connection to Ithaca College.

I’m not writing these thoughts just to brag about how much I love IC, but I think they speak to the way a university is a living entity itself. In student affairs, we spend a lot of time (and money) assessing campus climate and working to improve various social aspects, but ultimately, there is a synergistic identity that can’t always be concretely measured.

When I juxtapose Ithaca (a small private liberal arts school) with Iowa State University (a large public land-grant school), I see difference in how this university identity manifests. At Ithaca, there was always a concern that there were not enough traditions. Committees regular discussed a “core experience,” often with concern that alumni would not feel connected to any campus-wide experiences between Convocation and Commencement. Iowa State, on the other hand, has plenty of traditions, from mass campaniling at Homecoming to VEISHEA. The concern there seemed to be more about how to keep students participating in the greater culture between these big events.

I think the way these two universities are pulling in opposite directions reflects challenges of institution size and culture. While Ithaca is small enough that students can cloister in their respective schools, Iowa State is large enough and so spread out that the university struggles to maintain a coherent social identity.

What I think makes Ithaca unique is a consistent, albeit difficult to define, attitude among members of the community. Honestly, the spirit that members of the Ithaca community bring to the college seems to translate to an expectation for all new others. I don’t want this post to sound like an academic paper on campus environments any more than it already is, but as someone who has experienced the distinction, I think it is worthwhile to share my observations.

I am doubtful that I could approach a stranger at ISU with the same assumed rapport as I could at IC. This doesn’t mean one is a bad place and the other good, but it speaks to the experience people have from the moment they set foot on a campus to their last memory of it. This amorphous university identity affects recruitment, retention, and fundraising, but in so many ways, it isn’t measurable. It depends on a community to define over time and to reinforce at every opportunity.

There has been a running discussion on the Iowa State LinkedIn group started by an alum who wanted to get her daughter fired up about ISU. I was really disturbed that everyone just started shouting things to humor the premise, but no one seemed to care that the premise ought to be challenged. Only the future student herself can decide if Iowa State is the place she wants to be.

I knew Ithaca College was the place I wanted to be from the day I auditioned, but for no other reason than that a current student (who had no official capacity that day as a representative of the college), Greg, went out of his way to make me feel welcomed and comfortable there. No facility, tradition, or reputation can replicate that sense of inclusion. It is an aspect of the culture of a university that can only be experienced first-hand.

This past weekend was my first visit to IC in a full year, and my very first experience when I arrived back on campus was chatting with a prospective student. I passed on my love of the university in the same way that Greg passed his on to me. I couldn’t not; it’s just part of the experience of belonging to Ithaca College to make people feel welcome and connected.

How have you made your campus more inclusive lately? What have you done to help make your campus the kind of place that people want to come back to over and over again? What makes your university feel like “home” for students, staff, and faculty?

I trust Ithaca College will always be a place I call home and its community my family, no matter how much time passes nor how much the campus changes.

So, every once in a while, I do a search for “Zack Ford” on different search engines. I’m not a narcissist; I just like to check and see where the blog is coming up. It’s interesting to see how things come up differently on different engines.

Normally, the Zack Ford on imdb comes up first. He’s written a few movies, I guess. I don’t see why he pings so high; it must just be imdb’s SEO. In fact, on my latest bing search, there’s now a second Zack Ford on imdb coming up. Then you get my LinkedIn and Facebook profiles, and finally the blog.

For some reason, some 17-year-old on MySpace now has THE TOP SEARCH RESULT on bing. Here’s how he describes himself (my emphases):

Hey guys. Im zack Ford just as the page says it doesnt lie. Well i guess the reason you reeding this is to find out more about me. Well what can I say im a nice guy and love to hang out with friends. I used to be a really big fan of NASCAR I went to the Daytona 500 twice and seen a cupple of Michigan races. On my free time ill eather be hanging out with my friends or lissioning to some good music. But yeah I couldent live without music. I used to lisson to Rammstein but latley I have been lissoning to Slipknot, Disturbed, Cradle of filth, and Alice and Chains. But sence Rammstein came out with there new album I have been really digging there shit. Well message me and lets talk ill talk to anyone.

Also, in his latest status update, he tells us:

Not going to be on tomarow or thursday. Going to be Video editing for Dragon World tomarow. And Thursday im going to be shooting.

I’m calling attention to this poor Zack Ford because he’s hurting the ZF reputation! While I see no appeal in NASCAR and cannot relate to his taste in music, these things are forgivable.

What makes me sad is his spelling. He’s a teenager with a MySpace, so I can even forgive his fragments and run-on sentences, but his spelling is atrocious.

Education needs help. And hopefully this kid is as narcissistic as I am and he searches and finds this post, and feels embarrassed, and goes back and proofreads all the words in green. It would be a good start.

Zack Ford, if you would like a writing tutor, please let me know.