Choosing To Not Be Bitter / Jaded In Spite Of Being Read (& Tremendously Scarred By) The Riot Act

I had the privilege to delve into volunteer work in my early 30s (20+ years ago).  This volunteer leadership position that I was appointed to was far more demanding / intimidating than I ever could have imagined it would be, and much of that challenge centered around the individuals I was tasked to serve alongside (we were all appointed simultaneously / I knew none of these older men).

About three years into my volunteered position tenure, tension between myself and another volunteer had reached a fever pitch.  As such, that tension reached its inevitable conclusion whilst having to confront him regarding some questionable funds' (organizational) usage.  And that's when I was read the riot act (thankfully I wasn't alone with this colleague when this lambasting occurred).  And when I say I was read the riot act, I'm talking expertly / with zero restraint.  I remember feeling afterwards as if I'd been fire hosed down with gasoline prior to my colleague lighting a match.  

There's a current phrase for this:  scorched earth.  As such, any semblance of remaining relationship was completely burned up after this 10–15-minute deluge of spite.

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A few years back, I surprisingly encountered my former volunteer colleague.  We eventually spoke politely (as subsequent encounters occurred), and I was hopeful for some sort of potential reconciliation.  Choosing to not be jaded / bitter was the best position to take. 

Unfortunately, today, I'm again having to face down this same man due to me, once again, stepping up to volunteer (identical organization).  He's already made it very clear that the calendared rendezvous itself is a huge waste of his time / energy.  

Thankfully, once again, I won't be alone during this juncture.

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What's clear to me as I head into this is the following:  This man is allergic to Rob and likely always will be.  And there's nothing I can do about that.

Therefore, I must minimize as much as possible during this meeting.  How?

I'm so grateful to be serving today alongside some excellent co-volunteers who're supportive and not at all naive / easily swayed (they've each been around the block).  Ultimately, my plan is less of Rob and more of them.

But my secret weapon is to remain hopeful about this situation.  And it is a situation.  I truly know nothing about the inner workings of this man and do not pretend to.  That being said, I'm older / wiser.  And though scars remain, my dignity is intact.  And that's what's most important to me.  

Some relationships barrel towards ending badly.  Very, very badly.  Nonetheless, as a Christian, in particular, be mindful of the approach you choose to take therein.  You have a witness to first & foremost protect.    

That First Foray Into The Notion Of The Supernatural

This post is going to address the specific entertainment culture of the '70s by allowing my memories (& amateur commentary) regarding television to narrate therein.   

If you were to turn back the clock to 1980, I would be 7 - 8 years old.  At that time, there were three broadcast TV networks.  CATV was just beginning to gain traction, but it wouldn't be 'till 4-6 years later that it became the de facto means to receive TV programming within the home (& thereby immediately expanding the number of / clarity therein of available channels).  Hence, over-the-air ABC, NBC & CBS (along with PBS) served up the American people with the only TV programming available, all of which was clearly time-slotted via age-propriety (& interestingly enough, there was typically no programming broadcast at all from midnight to 5 AM).  

Revenue garnered to these three networks was dependent on viewership.  How?  The higher the viewership, the more the networks could charge for advertising time (TV commercials).  Blue chip companies, in particular, relied on TV advertising's powerful influence on the American consumer to drive revenue. 

Keep in mind that EVERYONE watched TV during this era.  Especially primetime TV broadcasting.  Why?  The broadcast content was very entertaining (mostly via novelty), and it was "free".  Whether it was comedy, drama (soaps), sports or news, broadcast TV was the GO-TO solution.

As such, networks knew a lot of $$$ could be made not only from (qualified) high viewership numbers, but too, the demographic the TV programming was aimed towards (preferably white people with disposable incomes).  Combined, these two guaranteed advertising "real estate" that was priced at a premium.    

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The 1970s ushered in the era of supernatural horror, and this coalescence with pop culture paralleled our taste for music (heavy metal) as well as the slow embrace of / interest in all things pagan. 

As such, the '70s landed such film spectacles as The Exorcist and The Amityville Horror.  Even The Omen experienced deep seated cultural traction (that's still intact) as Americans tepidly (but reverently) filled the cinema seats en masse (from one end of the country to the other).  Young Americans, in particular, dominated ticket sales.  For these films (regarding their subject matter) were considered spectacle events and therefore were MUST SEE.  

The producers / directors / screenwriters of these supernatural horror classics were very rare finds.  To be adept at capturing the tone needed to terrify audiences took precise skill.  Otherwise, missing the mark by simply one degree may very well relegate a huge studio investment as derivative camp.  Therefore, despite the seismic cultural / monetary impact, sequels / franchise continuity were almost always massive failures.  Studios therefore eventually turned to new, more novel material.  And none other than a young, myopic fiction author, Stephen King (he was around 33-years old at the time), caught the attention of many a network executive.  

At this time, King's fanbase was blossoming despite the fact that his books were very lengthy.  This meant his stories played out slowly, allowing suspense, creepiness & dread to build chapter by chapter.  Plus, in order to enjoy his stories, you ACTUALLY HAD TO READ THEM.  Therefore, a certain level of intelligence / education was required of his audience.

Also, his horror stories were centered more on mood / tone and therefore tension versus standard tropes such as brutal murder / Satan's playground - ramped up exponentially for maximum shock value.

Besides, once the three aforementioned films were released, they instantly became milestones within our then cultural zeitgeist, and as you know, milestones are often touted - out of respect - but rarely truly lovingly revisited (thanks to their spent ambitions).

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Enter 'Salem's Lot.  This was King's second novel.  And it was perfectly written in light of TV's reach and ritual respect - at the time - within the American household.

'Salem's Lot did have one direct connection to the three aforementioned '70s horror milestones, and that was its focus on victimizing children.  Whether they were teens or elementary age, child characters were integral to the story.  Hence, whilst screening the 2-part TV movie version therein, viewers of all ages (late November of 1980) were horror-mesmerized by the shattered innocence integrated throughout the gratuitous content.  

In summary, the story of 'Salem's Lot is one of covert exploitation via an unassumingly viral-like exchange, leaving its assaulted victims enslaved to the MO of the initial host / infector (a small-town interloper).  That antagonist isn't revealed but for a very short stint (90-seconds total within the tail end of the TV movie), but alas, this / these brief scenes gave the audience sufficient shock to involuntarily empty their bladders with.

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Now let me remind you, once again, that I was around 7-years old in late November 1980 when 'Salem's Lot was broadcast (Saturday at 8 PM CST).  Because it was two parts, the network used two subsequent weekend time slots to cash in.  

I wasn't reared by parents who were all that more mature than your average teenager.  And this was due to their youth (they were in their late teens when they had Rob).  Plus, they'd both been reared in rural MS (my mother grew up impoverished).  Finally, neither had any real understanding of Scripture (my mother could barely read at this point).  And as a result, neither did I.

As such, watching network TV was THE ABSOLUTE Turner afternoon / evening centerpiece - no matter what day / night of the week it was.  I can remember vividly the "TV Guide" magazine always being prominently displayed on top of the stained walnut coffee table in our den.  But I digress...

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I've always been a highly visual male.  It's one of the primary motivators for me pursuing the career of architecture.  As such, certain TV / film programming, especially during my childhood, had a profound impact on my developing brain.

'Salem's Lot's narrative firmly planted the idea of being cursed and therefore recognizing one's inability to escape a certain dark fate, and in turn, sympathizing with the horror of watching those you care / love haplessly perish.  If you've ever read Poe's The Masque of the Red Death, you see the exact same theme except there it plays out within distinct waves.  

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When I look back on my life, I credit the gospel firstly with upending my cursed outlook, and from there, it was my wife.

Now, let me expound on the former.

When I reference the gospel, I'm referring mostly to the gospel lived out.  Demonstrated.  And mostly, of course, in and through adults that were either paid to or genuinely (or some combination of the two) cared for Rob.  If I were forced to list those, it would take pages and pages.  This is my good fortune.  I saw Christ in these supporting characters, and this powerfully drew me in.

My wife though is a whole different story.  For she willingly loved / loves me.  And this truly detonated a path forward for me that dismantled completely any musty misgivings of cursed(ness).  I could never disavow / discount owning her gaze and allegiance and perpetual trust.  This served as a powerful reminder of God's love for me.

For I'm telling you, I knew even as a small child that Satan was real and that he was intent on taking me down.  How did I know this?  Mostly through dreams but also via what always felt like the makeshiftedness of my 3-person family.  A family that put so much of its faith (like so many others of this era) in the ongoing cultural novelty of the status quo.  For I knew that video entertainment wasn't anything more than such, but it was its influence (on my young brain) that was lost on me as to how best to manage.  

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So here we are.  Fall of 2024.  A lot of time has passed since 1980.  

'Salem's Lot will very soon be released as a feature film.  On TV, no doubt.  I've watched the trailer dozens of times and even gone back to YouTube to watch fanatical pieces pertaining to the original 1980 TV production.  

As a result, my 7-year-old self has been stirring deep within the recesses of my grey matter.

And it's been so very emotive and opportunistic in terms of truly sitting with my boyhood self.  

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A few weeks back, I screened a horror film with my middle school daughter (who also is a highly visual person).  And just so you know, the film is a courtroom drama firstly (this child has a noteworthy interest in the practice of law).  Hence, my justification.  

But it is a very disturbing film (as all great horror films are).

So disturbing in fact that she slept with me afterwards (& we only screened the first 50 minutes).  

But, as you know, there's a big difference in age 7 and 14.  Nonetheless, we spent (& have continued to spend) mucho time discussing said film (at least the portion we've watched) in anticipation of finishing it off.  

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Evil exists.  Humanity truly is cursed.  Our comprehension of secure shelter for ourselves is misguided.  This world of woe is overseen by Lucifer.  Those are genuinely frightening truths.  Especially to helpless children.

But...

There's an assemblage of humanity that's been predestined to survive this wretched curse.  But not by our wits or sacrifice or resistance.  By favor.

For though evil is manifest, God is ineffable, and his propinquity is not unlike the very air we breathe.  

In closing, as young King David boasted about in 1 Samuel, our God is living.  

Vampires, in so many ways, depict Satan almost too well.  As the undead who feast on the hapless living for survival, their very existence is cursed.  

There's one misgiving though regarding this analogy.  Children get a pass 'till they're mature enough to be considered accountable to an understanding of the gospel.  Picture a lei of garlic cloves hanging 'round their necks as a sign of their judgement day immaturity.  Perhaps that's why these tales are all that more harrowing.       

Most Of My Hair Is Silver Now

The house I grew up in in Madison, back in the '80s, was a typical ranch house.  After my parents had a small addition constructed (FL / sunroom), it amounted to +/-1,800 sf.  A quirk of this house was that the garage flooded (even with the garage door closed) during a deluge.  I remember having to "sweep out the garage" immediately following these rainstorms.  There was always either a push or corn broom on hand for this task.  But even then, the concrete garage floor would remain saturated / puddled, thereby making traversing throughout a slippery affair.  And if it was mild weather, this dampness would remain for days. 

When my parents sold this house (1990 - my freshman year at MSU) in order to move into a rental ('till their newly constructed home was finished), I wonder if they disclosed this quirk.  For they never made any effort to remedy it.  It was just one of those nuisances that we lived with throughout our time there.

Today, when you attempt to sell a home, disclosures are expected.  For every house has its quirks.  I remember populating my mother-in-law's disclosure statement for the home she sold a few years back.  It was multiple pages of Q & A with sizable legal warnings throughout threatening legal action if the document wasn't ENTIRELY FORTHCOMING.

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My oldest friend's wife is morbidly obese.  She's always been overweight, but over the past 3-4 years, she's gained more and more pounds.  Now it's to the point (for those of us who've known her for decades) of the inevitable shock (especially considering their Xmas photo card).   

She's also a heavy, heavy social media user (political commentary).

When I last spoke to my friend, his wife was unemployed, having been laid off from her job.  He mentioned a job prospect she was pursuing that would title her "Admin Assistant" for a consulting engineering firm.  This position was in line with much of her resume.

I asked him to let me know if she received an expected offer.

I haven't heard back from him since then.

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I was convicted early on within my life that "letting one's hair down" always came with a cost (physical appearance / words).  And most of the time that cost (for me at least) was risking offense and, in turn, the due penalty (some semblance of rejection).  Therefore, I'm constantly weighing risk versus reward herein.  And, I believe, that's a worthwhile exercise to be tasked with.  It strengthens emotional muscle which promotes / endorses maturity.  

It's one of the main reasons I enjoy writing publicly on this blog as well as my former blog.

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Earlier this week, I had an opportunity to say "hello" to a cousin whilst meeting with a longstanding business owner client (my cousin happens to work there).  He was shocked to see me.  This made the rendezvous all that more special.

My personal blog, "The Architect's Garage", that was deleted in September of '13, was a combination of video / text posts that spanned +/-5 years.  There was a naivety there.  I'd go so far as to say an emotional immaturity.  I posted thoughts and feelings that were deeply revealing within that blog.  Especially as it pertained to my dad / our relationship when I was a child.  As such, it reflected exactly where I was for such a time as that.

This aforementioned cousin was offended enough by those posts to alert his father (my dad's youngest brother, who he loved dearly).  And though the blog had long since been deleted when I came to be made aware of this squeal, I felt something that I'd never felt before as it pertained to my family.

Seen and somewhat known.  It represented an incredible leveling up for me.  For it was the first time someone (within my Turner extended family) actually had the opportunity to pay attention to the Rob that I truly was / had been.

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There are folks who live to be spotlit.  I believe my friend's wife falls into that category.  Her physical self is a mirror to her online one.  

There are others who are required (at times) to be in the spotlight.  For it's the only way they can make sense of the world they're faced with.  Especially regarding those who just might take the time to read the entire disclosure.  

I am so looking forward to seeing my cousin again soon. 

Once More, A Boiled Toad

Being same-sex attracted has always been my sexual norm.  I've never known anything different.  When I began dating my future wife (mid-'90s), I was far more attracted to her holistically than likely other potential suitors might have been.  And this springboarded off of our childhood friendship which became far more important than either of us realized 'till we began dating.  Angie was tender.  Her touch was soft and consistent.  Plus, she was loyal to a fault.  I could go on, but my point here is I had the benefit of being able to easily look beyond the sole opportunity to lay with her (intercourse), as her husband, in regard to potentially marrying.

Another norm for me is the Deep South culture.  A big portion of which basks in college football competition / rivalries.  This one too is experienced by Rob in ways that don't necessarily fit the typical Mississippi redneck.

It's important to know that Mississippi is all I know relative to a home.  As such, it's a hotbed of football-loving and has been for as long as I've known it.  My dad, Robert, Sr., grew up immersed in this Southeastern Conference culture.  As such, it's as definitive as the very blood type that circulates through his veins.

I joined the marching band (clarinet / drum major) in middle school out of curiosity (& as an escape route from PE class) more than anything else.  As such, Friday nights during each of my subsequent fall semesters were mostly spent back on the private academy's grounds - at each and every football game. 

From there, I segued into my college's marching band where again, I spent every fall weekend (along with three bowl games!) supporting the team, but this time, I was wearing a maroon & white band uniform.  At the conclusion of 1994, my tenure as a Maroon Band member bittersweetly came to a close.

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Whilst looking back, regarding football, I really was like a submerged frog in a pot of gradually heated water.  Yet, there were two confounding constants:  1) how undecipherable the game was to me as a teen & subsequently 2) the reality that every matchup occurred under the cover of darkness.  

For I'd certainly never played the game.  Therefore, having only very rarely tossed a pigskin with my father, I found myself sitting in those rickety wooden stands feeling more like a comatose queue (on standby to march during halftime) than an actual spectator.     

But now, as a 51-year-old, I can comprehend the game well enough to follow the action.  Nonetheless, even if I squint my eyes closed, I have the ability to keep up with the plays with relative ease.  

And this leads me to the following realization:  Football players, after all these years, are now becoming recognizable as individuals.  And not just for their specific assigned positions on the field.  Their names on the back of their jerseys, specifically, are beginning to register within my brain, proving to me that these are real men.

Some of which are very physically attractive men.

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Today (specifically regarding the past three seasons), I've interloped yet again into the routine of supporting football games.  And this is in line with my oldest daughter being a pep squad member at her collegiate institution of choice with me (& Angie) being the supportive parent(s).   

Disappointingly, her college's football team hasn't performed well during the majority of these seasons, therefore it's been absolutely no fun to attend the games - from that perspective.  

Hence, I have found myself, throughout these 4+ tedious hours, doing everything in my power to simply endure the mercilessly horrific gameplay.

As such, this has led me to take note of one player in particular, who just happens to station himself almost directly in front of our seats.  And all I know to say about that is, thanks be to God for beautiful men.

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At this stage in my recovery, I don't consume gay porn in order to lust.  Why?  I simply see that approach as past tense for Rob.  Nonetheless, when I do choose to delve into it, it's in pursuit of two things:  1) videos / photos of guys who fit my masculine archetype being sexual - to some degree or another, and 2) these same guys displaying acts of physical tenderness towards each other.

There's not a lot of porn out there that fits this bill because...

A sizable number of porn models who participate onscreen in homosexual sex aren't actually same-sex attracted.  The vast majority are simply guys who're enduring, not unlike I tend to be whilst attending the aforementioned culturally ubiquitous college football games.  Many of these models certainly have a track record within the gay porn industry, but it's exclusively that reputation that they build their simulated performances on as they contractually agree to collaborate within countless (sometimes hundreds, if not thousands) mechanizable features. 

I too have a football game track record that (either as a pep squad / band member or spectator), for me, now spans decades of my life, but it doesn't mean I have today or will ever have in the future any real interest in football.  

The big money for attractive, muscular, masculine (straight-acting) porn models is within the production of gay porn.  Why?  A lot of folks (particularly same-sex attracted folks) consume it very, very regularly.  And yes, that includes women who're completely uninterested in seeing women within their porn palette.  

But the quagmire here is can these straight, college / pro football player-like men display genuine tenderness - towards each other - within this genre?  Especially considering the fact that tenderness is absolutely uncalled for within heterosexual porn features.

Mostly no.  Thankfully no.  & most of the time, if they make the attempt, it looks incredibly forced.

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I'm fortunate to only have one additional year of college football spectatorship that I must endure (my pep squad daughter will be a senior next year!).  From there, my plan is to never attend another college football game unless someone leads me into one at gunpoint.  For I have truly had my fill of it for a lifetime.

And thanks be to God that there's so little online - today - relative to gay porn that captures my interest.  I suppose I've literally become, yet again, a boiled toad in this regard as well.  

What Does It Mean To "Do The Work"?

I can only speak for myself as a Samson guy whilst answering this question.

Doing the work for Rob is positioning myself in healthy ways to "be seen".  And not by everyone mind you.  Instead, I'm referring to only the select (mostly Samson guys) that I'm interested in bringing in close.   

I've written recently about me identifying with an innate "invisibleness" that's haunted me throughout my life.  Similarly, my wife identifies with this void as well.  It's one of the ties that bind us together as a couple.

Invisibleness is centered around the feeling of (or actuality therein) being dismissed / overlooked / marginalized when you're confident that you shouldn't / don't deserve to be.  The last part of that explanation is centered on you yourself recognizing your own value / understanding it to the nth degree.

Because Samson Society is so very horizontal as an organization, from day one, I've felt comfortable pursuing friendships with men therein.  What I mean by horizontal is the vast majority of Samson guys are involved - & rightly so - due to crisis.  Marital, vocational, personal, spiritual, sexual or some combination. Hence, due to this homogenous trait, there'll never be any semblance of Samson Society attempting to mimic the Rotary Club (no one's there seeking a leg up).  

In light of everyone finding themselves welcomed into the community - literally face down in the dirt - the desperation for help absolutely levels the playing field.  As such, guys like me (desperate to be seen) raise few, if any, suspicions whilst pursuing intimate platonic relationships.  And even if that someone targeted is seemingly far different than I seem to be - at least on the surface.

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Being seen by Samson friends (& otherwise) strategically undermines my desire to consume gay porn.  How?  To answer that question, I firstly must explain the role gay porn plays in Rob's mind.  For me, today, as a 51-year-old, consuming gay porn satiates my need to "be seen" via a technique I've dubbed "bisecting".  

Bisecting is me placing myself within the role of the porn star(s) and basking CONFIDENTLY in the cinematic / photographic attention.  And this is particularly easy to do if these men meet my masculine archetype whilst sufficiently persuading me, as their audience, that their actions are rooted in love / tenderness versus animalistic desire.    

There's a lot to digest there.  But that sums up the role gay porn has paid / continues to pay within my life.  

Now, how might relational accountability via friendships with Samson brothers (or otherwise) strategically undermine my desire to consume this false reality (gay porn)?

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I had to reach a crisis point of my own in order to be positioned to look away long enough (from my gay porn consumption modus operandi) to chart a new path.  And God allowed that to happen in September of 2013 via my job loss from Delta State University.  It was absolutely the best thing that's ever happened to me despite the fact that it was the most painful / emotionally debilitating.

Had that re-positioning (perspective) not occurred, I would have never taken The Path seriously enough to find the slow forward march of recovery at all worthwhile.  

From there, I turned my attention - one Samson guy at a time - towards the pursuit to be seen HEALTHILY.  And oh, the satisfaction in finally finding a worthwhile means to "right this ship" / manage my trauma, etc.

In closing, following The Path is the most selfish of pursuits for it demands constant course correction as you navigate relationships within (& eventually outside of) this community.  What I mean by that is your recovery is of the utmost importance, even far outweighing the long-term cultivation (via commitment) of friendships within this community.  Commitment is for marriage.  Not friendship.  That being said, King David honored Jonathan, his dear friend (whom he loved moreso than any woman), long after his friend's death on the battlefield.  King David did this by acknowledging his legacy via his offspring.  It was a sweet gesture, but it in no way implied that David's love for Jonathan was as intense / relevant as it once was.

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Thank you, dear reader, for your faithfulness to my posts.  You too are part of that strategic undermining of my compulsive sin-laden go-to, and for that, I'll forever be grateful.  I feel seen today - in some small way - thanks to you.

Attempting To Put the Kibosh On POTENTIAL Sexual Tension Within Silas Relationships (Addressing That New Script Verbiage)

Within the last (30) days, the Samson Society meeting script (available online to virtual meeting facilitators) has been updated to include some pointed language (within the part that speaks to obtaining a Silas).  

The initial iteration of that inclusion read something like this:

"The Samson Society is a place to practice nonsexual intimacy.  In order to promote the emotional growth of our members and protect spiritual health of our community, sexual communication or connection between members is prohibited.  Misconduct is addressed according to Matthew 18."

There are men who are on the hunt for relationships with other men that exist within sexual tension.  Specifically, they're looking for guys who they're sexually attracted to and vice versa, thereby generating the potential for segueing the initially platonic relationship into the sexual realm.  

When you're engaging with others online (outside of Samson Society), and this is your modus operandi, it's likely going to carry over, by default, whilst transitioning into our community.  That is, unless it's made clear up front that this MO isn't welcome.  

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I befriended a middle-aged Samson guy earlier this year who eventually made it clear - to me - that his intent aligned therein.  Keep in mind though that this was before the Samson Society meeting script change, and this man too was far more involved within other online Christian recovery ministries (most of which had already added statements like this one).   

Once this friend notified me regarding his present nurturing of a sexually tense relationship, he asked me to "hold him accountable" relative to "the integrity of their friendship".  

He described the relationship as follows:

"...in addition to that, I confess I have grown pretty infatuated with a friend I met through (other Christian men's ministry).  Like me, he has a lot of flexibility in his work and we've been able to talk a lot.  We have not done anything inappropriate, and both are committed to staying above the fray, but I confess I have been intensely attracted to him, and he to me.  I want to learn to keep this friendship but keep it safe."

He then responded accordingly to my initial (very negative) reaction:

"Rob, thank you so much for your response earlier.  I can understand why you would have such an intense reaction.  I hope you will still be my friend and keep me accountable if I continue with my friendship.  He and I have set strict boundaries of what we can talk about and what we will allow each other to see from a physical perspective.  We do need to talk about the time factor as we should limit that as well.  ...I would like to face rather than run from these feelings to understand what the real need is and be honest about that, rather than just ignore it."

Here's an excerpt from my final communication:

"I can't support you my friend, going forward, if you choose to continue with your infatuation relationship."

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This verbiage is needed / has been needed within the Samson Society meeting script for some time.  

My Friend's Nasty Refrigerator / Refusing To Take Emotional Responsibility / Emotionally Engage

I'm convinced that emotions are scary to Mississippians.  At least white Mississippians.  Black Mississippians not so much.  As such, it creates quite the disconnect between the two races; for you have one that's marinating in emotional energy and the other who sees no use for / can't comprehend / would rather ignore it.

Close, interdependent relationships (family / friends) should be an inevitable encounter within this life, and there's no getting around the fact that such the degree of closeness will bring with it emotions of every ilk.  For all human beings, white or black, experience emotions, and all human beings are designed for community.  All of that is God breathed.  Emotions are signposts and litmus tests.  In summary:  immensely valuable brain energy that's best rationally respected versus ignored outright.

Let's think of these necessary interdependent relationships as staples within a refrigerator.  Items like milk, eggs, cheese that are consistently being moved in and out (as they're replenished and otherwise) of the icebox for usage.  Over time, inevitably, the inside of the fridge can get cruddy due to the movement, organization and the inevitable reorganization.  Not to mention that some of the packaging may be leaky or fail completely.  If this is the case, because the cruddy residual is also being kept cool, it doesn't necessarily begin to stink.  But it does look (& feel) really bad.  To the point that it's undeniable yet still lazily ignorable (behind closed doors / out of sight / out of mind).  

People aren't perfect.  Especially whilst trying to engage communally.  Everyone's within their own unique container, therefore preeminent weak spots abound.  Certain individuals get moved about much moreso than others, and on the flip side of that, it's inevitable that there're those who get forgotten about due to their benign location / packaging.  

The weight of supporting others can deform or even crush.  Despite what may look fresh, spoilage can be therein.  Neglect / assumptions often have consequences.  

And finally, certain items effectively contaminate by simply being introduced and "leaving well enough alone".

It's all quite the complicated affair.  

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Years ago, we had dinner with one of my oldest friends (from my college days).  I vividly recall helping myself to a beverage refill, and as such, couldn't help but notice the absolute filth within their refrigerator.  It was unlike anything I'd seen prior.  Even taking into account refrigerator filth (housemates) from my college days.  I remember telling Angie during our drive home about my friend's disgusting refrigerator.  Interestingly enough, the make model of their appliance was the exact same as ours, yet the contrast in cleanliness was striking.  Yet, all of that dried gunk was being preserved just as the staples were thanks to the space BOTH were residing within.  Hence, I suppose, this family saw no real reason to take the time to empty out the appliance and wipe down the interior in spite of its shocking state.

We've all heard of self-cleaning ovens.  They're ovens that have programmed cycles which incinerate spilled / splattered gunk.  Once the cleaning cycle is complete, all you're left with is ashes to sweep / vacuum out.  

Refrigerators aren't like that because they're never turned off.  Plus, their primary purpose is to maintain a set, slightly above freezing temperature.  

I can remember hearing of college roommates inadvertently leaving a sizable bag of frozen shrimp behind (post spring semester) within their apartment freezer (above the refrigerator).  Unbeknownst to them, the landlord cut the electricity to the apartment for a week or so over the summer sans checking the contents of the apartment-grade refrigerator / freezer.  Obviously, this spelled the appliance's demise as the shellfish rotted away inside prior to being refrozen.  Yuck.

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Mississippians, overall, live here because of their families and their faith (plus the winters are relatively balmy).  Otherwise, their choosing is simply rooted in dramatically lowest cost of living combined with ignorance.  Overall, our state is shrinking; with each passing decade, individuals leave for greener pastures.  I'm convinced this is partly the case due to the aforementioned emotional extremes that cannot be ignored here.

Kaka Ray talks an awful lot about finding / pursuing healthy ways to regulate the brain.  If I'm understanding her correctly, she's referring to equalization (balance) between both the left and right hemispheres.  To me, this speaks to giving equal weight to both the pragmatic and emotional makeup of ourselves.  And the key word here is giving.  

Kaka talks about technique to encourage this giving, and so often, she justifies those techniques within the framework of maturity.  

And that's one of my most favorite words.  (Certainly not one you hear often in Mississippi.)

So the question comes down to whether or not individuals who reside outside the boundaries of Mississippi are more mature than we are.  I have to believe they are, and this draws many out of the Magnolia State in droves.

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As far as I know, Bob & Darlene (my parents) have never kissed, held hands or hugged (based on my observation as their only child).  Growing up amongst these kindhearted cardboard people was sterile to say the least.  Nonetheless, there was little to no recourse needed for spilled milk / leaky egg cartons due to the fact that there were none available to choose from.  Overall, other than one lone box of baking soda, the SHARED familial refrigerator remained empty.  As such, we did each have our own minifridges to work with (for survival).   

My upbringing was as independent from my parents as it - within reason - could be.  Interaction was polite and respectful as if at any moment circumstances might change for the worse for one of us.  

Have you ever seen the film Reservoir Dogs?  From what I remember (I screened it decades ago), it's a heist / hostage flick, carried out by a group of white men, none of which know anything substantial (real) about the other.  And this includes each other's names.  This emotional detachment is supposed to work in their favor relative to the risks they face as they carry out their gruesome, terrorizing crimes.

The Islamic terrorists who carried out 9/11 had to have used similar techniques of loyalty derived from this notion of austere independence.  

It's weird looking back on my growing up years relative to this, but I simply didn't know any better.  It wasn't like I had anything substantial to complain about, though as I matured into a man, there was no doubt that something was terribly off.

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It's ironic to admit to this, but my aforementioned friend (with the nasty refrigerator) and his wife put little to no value on regulation.  They're no doubt poster children for typical white Mississippians.  And I harbor no ill will / bias against them as such, but I do pity them.  For I believe (& have seen firsthand) there's so many poor choices / missed opportunities / misaligned priorities as a result.  Again, signposts / litmus tests are to be effectively accounted for and respected.  

Here in Mississippi, you truly are within a bit of an inbred disregulated environment where gossip reigns supreme.

Bless our hearts. 

My Need To Be Seen / Pursued By Men I Respect (& How Porn Defaults To Fulfill That Need)

All of my issues with gay porn - for the most part - have a common denominator of attempting to fill a void of feeling isolated from the universal community of men.  

When I was a senior in high school, I purchased my first Playgirl magazine, and this was the first time I saw photos of completely naked men.  Though I only held on to the magazine (the year was 1990) for 3-4 days, in looking back, it opened my eyes to how disgusted I was with my own self.  And that disgust was rooted in simply not feeling comfortable behaving / being seen as a man (& I'm not referring to conformity).  Now, you must know that I certainly didn't feel like a woman (at this time in my life or ever).  Instead, I simply felt worthless having no perceived masculine identity whatsoever.

What did this Playgirl magazine actually provide for teenage Rob?  Two things.

1)

Being semi-nude (shirtless) is a normal "celebration" of being male.  Being fully naked too, isn't frowned upon, though it's relegated to specific settings where men gather (locker rooms, skinny dipping, etc.).

The pictorial of one Playgirl model, in particular, blew my synapses because he was so natural looking, yet it was apparent he'd no shame regarding his physique.  The young man was probably 5-8 years older than I at the time.  He was below average height, had average size junk and did not in any way look manufactured / manicured.  Hence, he had loads of body hair and even minute skin imperfections that hadn't been airbrushed away.  And yes, he was in great physical shape, but it reflected his no doubt athletic prowess more than vanity (this guy was not a pro bodybuilder).  

All of this added up to this complete masculine comfortableness that I longed too to have.  This I could emotionally latch onto via porn.

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2)

On the flip side of that comfortableness, there was the allure of symbolically being known by those you're putting your trust in.  As a teenager, no one knew anything about my sexuality except me and God.  And though I refused to loathe my sexual attractions towards men (believing they were a result of a number of circumstantial factors), I desperately needed to be known (as every teenager does) by someone I could trust with this (& the rest of myself).  But there wasn't anyone - that being a real person - for me to be pursued by in this regard.

Therefore, I fantasized about being known by my middle school youth pastor, classmates at school, etc.  Eventually, these fantasies migrated to photos of semi-nude men on greeting cards and in wall calendars, all of which lead up to the Playgirl magazine purchase.  Every fantasy had a theme of known Rob being relationally pursued.

Subconsciously, the aforementioned naked model in the Playgirl pictorial, I felt, was being known by me - as the viewer, and he had been known by the photographer & his crew likewise.  This blew my mind, but I didn't at all understand what was truly happening inside my brain at that young of an age.  Today, thankfully, I'm beginning to.

In the past, I've joked during Samson Society meetings about having a secret desire to be a porn model.  Taking the notion of being known to the extreme served as the root of that joke.

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What served as the breaking point for Rob regarding these needs not being met?

2013 (I'd just turned 40) was the year I worked in Cleveland, MS as Delta State University's Campus Architect.  About six middle managers, all mostly close to my age, reported to me, and each of them had minions beneath them.  This entire grouping was nothing but men, all of which were laborers overseeing everything from campus landscaping to HVAC systems.  The perceived authenticity / comradery between these men left me feeling extremely isolated.  Naturally, I turned to our pastor at Covenant Pres Cleveland for help, but he freaked out at even the slightest hint of discussing sex / sexuality.  Eventually, I once again turned to gay porn / writing on a now defunct blog to cope.  Doing this on my work PC is what got me fired.

I came away feeling so rejected and ashamed.  But, it was through that pain that God ushered me into Samson Society in August of 2014. 

Samson Society serves as a petri dish for being known authentically.  The meetings provide a framework, week after week, for sharing / presenting oneself to the group, and from there, there's opportunity to connect one-on-one in order to be known that much more intimately.

Each of the two resolutions I cited above are too resolved (in my mind) within the Samson community.  The only difference being (between it and gay porn), is Samson Society takes much more work / commitment / patience.  

And since Samson guys are actual - living / breathing - warts & all relationships, they're much richer / diverse / nurturing / sustaining / helpful.  But too, that being said, as with any close friendship, none of these relationships are without setbacks, disappointments, and pain.  

I love to consume porn, but I love what Samson Society has offered me as an alternative more.  Thanks be to God for Samson Society.

Recommended Reading - How The Internet Ate A Young Man Alive

 Josh Duggar Sentenced to 12.5 Years in Prison for Child Pornography (insider.com)

As a society, we love to witness others suffer.  And this is especially true of us as westerners.  For we are fiercely independent, existing in a world that's customizable to the nth degree.  As such, we cannot help but find solace in patting ourselves on the back whilst observing our peers make more and more mistakes. 

And this is especially true online.  For the Internet represents the ultimate in nuanced freedom.  So long as you know how to marginally utilize a browser, anything you can dream up will be at your fingertips in a split second.

Hence, you end up with scads of blokes like this one.  

And we're supposed to slowly shake our heads and breathe a sigh of relief now that he's headed for over a decade to prison.

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Why is illegal porn available online?  Why is it possible to download illegal imagery at all?  

I can't get my hands on arsenic.  And I believe that's because it's a colorless, odorless poison that I could use to kill with.  That makes sense.

Why can someone's employer provide them with a computer that can access illegal pornographic imagery?  Why isn't the employer liable to any degree here or perhaps the PC manufacturer?  

Why doesn't anyone really give a shit about men like this Duggar boy and his now completely fucked up life?

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There is nothing we westerners desire more than maintaining our individual privileges, rights and status quo.  For we are a - by default - intrinsically self-focused people.  A people too busy planning our next vacation, landscaping our yards, adopting yet another mutt from the animal shelter, or aborting our burdensome, mistaken offspring. 

Let this be a warning to you dear reader:  You too can be demonized someday just as Mr. Duggar is.  The Internet is on the prowl, looking to eat its next victim alive.  

Us Versus Them - Riding The Superiority Highhorse

The saddest character flaw I've personally witnessed is certain guy's penchant for gloating.  For it will serve to isolate him throughout the years of his life.  

Personally, the good that's come from recognizing this is how reticent it's made me as a Christian relative to transparency, particularly as it relates to my struggles with homosexual desires / lust / gay porn.  For I've found that transparency tends to open doors time and time again versus putting a bad taste in people's mouths.  Now, by saying that, it does not mean that I'm any less prideful than any other bloke.  Let's just say I realize how to keep that pride under wraps - most of the time.

Gloating is "dwelling on one's success or another's misfortune with smugness or malignant pleasure".

Some men love to gloat about sales successes in comparison to others (taking the opportunity to do this in front of almost anyone).  Others gloat about the "renewed success" of their church home versus other local churches.  Still others gloat about their favorite collegiate team's athletic successes whilst basking in the defeats of its rivals.  Some gloat about sportsmanship (hunting) successes.  And here recently, I've even seen guys gloat about the purported spirituality of the political candidates they support with gusto.

Gloating, for a handful of men, is sort of like breathing.  It happens without them even thinking about it.  And oftentimes, this is learned behavior that they've seen modeled by a parent.  Hence, it was normalized for them, and from there, simply became their own exercise in self-absorption.

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Gloating brings about feelings of superiority with an expectation that those listening in will too see the gloater as equally superior (buy in).  

Because most of us realize that these expectations are false, gloating typically is frowned upon within our culture and not something you see directly executed.  

Therefore, for most of us, we've learned to gloat indirectly through cultural (digital) machinations that are becoming more and more mainstream by the minute.  Machinations that justify their existence as vehicles of  "free speech".  And this gloating indirectly capitalizes on the back half of the definition from above.  That being:  "...or another's misfortune with smugness or malignant pleasure."  

Why would any Christian behave in such a way?  How might this possibly align with the gospel?  

Those are the wrong questions to ask.  

The better question is how might you fragrant your sphere of influence with the gospel if you're taking this approach?

You can't.  You won't.  Though you will come away feeling superior.  But that in no way synchronizes with your calling as a Christian.  For it is Christ who's superior.

Embrace humility in all things.  And never, ever lose sight of how quickly misfortune can and may very well come your way.

"What If...?" (Mirror Universe)

My first pastor friend was our Assistant Pastor at Lakeside Presbyterian Church.  He'd initially served as our church's Youth Pastor, but by the time Angie & I began visiting (with our then two little sinners) Lakeside Pres (around 2009), he'd been promoted.  Brandon was / is 3-5 years older than I am, and overall is one of the most handsome Presbyterian pastors I've had the privilege to meet.  Were he not a member of the clergy, he'd likely be highly successful either in the public or private sector.

It was just a few months into visiting the church that I emailed this meek man and asked him to share lunch with me.  We met at Primos restaurant in Flowood, and it was then that I clumsily, though directly, relayed my story.  I also let him know that I needed a friend, and surprisingly, he obliged relative to having that same need.  From there, we embarked, and it was quite a supportive relationship for such a time as that (over a span of a few years).

One day, on a whim, I decided to email Pastor Brandon with an imagined scenario to respond to.  It involved him encountering a beautiful, seductive woman during a normal pastoral workday (whilst out and about within the community) and her making a subtle pass at him.  From there, I waited to see how he might react.  (Keep in mind that he was married with two children.)

To my surprise (& a slight tinge of horror), my friend replied to my email within the hour, and his reply was lengthy (5-6 paragraphs) and to the point(ed).  So much so that I came away feeling as if he'd been deeply offended by my inquiry.  Overall, his reaction was unexpected in its intensity / pervasiveness / tone.  After the fact, he and I never discussed this email exchange for I was way too embarrassed to revisit.  

In the end, on one hand I regretted having to endure the brunt of his - seemingly out of character - reaction, but on the other, I appreciated learning that much more about him - as my friend - and as a pastor relative to not only what he responded with but how quickly / assertively he chose to respond.  My respect for him grew that much more as a result.  

There are times when you simply cannot see certain sides of individuals until you back them up against (either a real or hypothetical) a wall, and this was one of those times.

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We've lived in our 'hood for twenty years.  Our cul-de-sac contains eleven patio homes, each scrunched up against each other as if they're vying to stay warm(er) than the Mississippi heat & humidity can muster.

One of our newest neighbors is a woman who's a few years older than I.  Residing within her abode too is her sweet elderly mom.  They've been a delight to get to know, and we're so fortunate to have them.  With a number of our other neighbors, they've been over for dinner on multiple occasions in order to share a meal / numerous laughs.  

This homeowner has a large dog that mostly stays within her lot's sizable backyard, but on occasion, she lets it out to roam freely.  Inevitably, the dog sprints away with the homeowner yelling all the while for the canine to return.  I can't say that I blame the pooch for doing this as I'm sure it's instinctual for it to explore the geographical possibilities that lie beyond.  Nonetheless, it usually doesn't go too far beyond our cul-de-sac.  

My youngest daughter has gleefully watched this homeowner carefully officiate her bitch's recent litter right inside her home.  And based on what my daughter has shared, the homeowner even sleeps with the pups inside the "pup tent" within her small living room.  The puppies are beautiful and growing fast (I've seen them once), with many already accounted for relative to new homes throughout the state.  

Last Friday, (4/8), I was taking the trash cans to the curb when I felt a tinge of panic.  Immediately I was faced with the aforementioned neighbor's dog barking at me ferociously (within 10-15 feet of where I was standing).  

It's important to know that years ago, I was out running and was bit by a similarly scaled, barking dog whilst making my way through a nearby 'hood.  That experience left a marked impression (as well as bite marks).

In response to the dog's tirade, I tried hard to ignore the animal, hoping it would leave my property on its own.  All the while, my neighbor is screaming the dog's name from her stoop, two houses down, whilst holding one of the pups.  

But then, surprisingly, the dog lunged at me as if she was going to take a bite either out of my arm or side.  I reflexively jumped to the side in terror before becoming unhinged emotionally.  And when I say unhinged, I mean Mr. Hyde-like unhinged.

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I know now why Brandon responded as he did to my imagined scenario.  He was doing it to protect my future, knowing full well how much influence he had over it.

Ultimately, it was him drawing a line in the sand that clearly differentiated - for me - right versus wrong.  God's will versus man's will.  Righteous versus unrighteous.  Playing with fire versus respecting fire (by leaving it in the firebox)

And, he was willing to do this - risking all the while (had I taken offense) - our friendship's continuity.  

This is true friendship because it's ultimately hinged on the gospel.  Hence, its occupants answer therein to Christ firstly prior to answering to each other.  Think of it as a triangle with Christ at the peak.

In closing, had my neighbor's dog berated another neighbor besides myself (a number of which are elderly retirees) last Friday afternoon, someone may very well could have been hurt.  The dog is BIG with a LOUD obnoxious bark.  This alone is enough to frighten.

Whilst looking back, I'm glad it came my way, and I'm pleased with how I ultimately reacted (& the dog responded).  Even if it permanently damages our good neighborly relations, I feel certain our run-ins with her pooch are behind us.  

That being said, I'm still attempting to process the unusual intensity of the situation, and how shocking I must have come across to my neighbor!  I'm willing to bet a dollar that Brandon, all those years ago, went through the same.  (I bet he re-read his email reply to me fifty times, if he read it once, during the days & weeks following.)

The Bible Belt Samson Guy. Rob's Update On His Virtual Samson Society Meeting Experience.

I've been attending the "Make Thursdays Great Again" (7 PM CST) virtual Samson Society group for close to two months now, and I feel guilty about it.

There is such a huge chunk of my midlife that's been measured weekly by Jackson Mississippi Samson Society meetings.  It all started in August of 2014 with the Wednesday night face-to-face meeting at First Baptist Jackson.  From there, I began attending the Sunday night face-to-face meeting at Grace Crossing Church in Gluckstadt.  Then finally, I began to facilitate my own face-to-face group at Lakeside Presbyterian Church in Brandon (which I did for four years).  Too, I've attended face-to-face meetings at Truitt Baptist Church in Pearl along with a handful at Crossgates.

I vividly recall attending my first National Samson Society retreat a number of years ago and hearing Mr. Nate Larkin pitch the virtual meeting push.  And this was well before anyone was even remotely thinking about pandemics.  Immediately I discounted it as "Samson lite", feeling almost disrespected by the notion of this conceivably inequivalent web-based facsimile.    

But this snap judgement was all rooted in my genuine coziness with the face-to-face paradigm.  For it's what I was reared on. 

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When I began working for the State of MS back in 2006, my expertise & interest in facilitating small meetings served me well as a Staff Architect.  Bringing together architects and engineers alongside using agency reps was simply my thing.  It was a proven methodology for moving projects through the planning phase.  During my six-year tenure there, I must have participated in 1,000 meetings, if I attended one.  Similarly, during my one-year jaunt at Delta State University, this meeting trend furthered until it all came to an abrupt halt in September of 2013 due to my termination (for breaking the institution's IT policy).

I immediately lost +/-14 pounds and could no longer sleep more than four hours a night.  The emotional trauma due to the job loss took its toll immediately on my psyche combined with my physiology.  

I've repeatedly described the job loss like being thrown off a cliff face.  Yet, a sizable portion of breaking my freefall was my introduction to that First Baptist Church face-to-face Samson Society meeting two years later.  

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My Silas and I talk once a week.  He's an old friend who's known me intimately throughout some of the most difficult (whilst living in MS) seasons of his life.  As such, he's sensitive enough to my vocal inflections to question my state of mind on the fly.  Today (during our weekly chat) was no different.  Hence, my opportunity to lament my state of mind thanks to his respectful prod.

I have so much aforementioned history / experience / "training" related to face-to-face meetings.  Plus, I simply feel as if, by now going virtual, I've insipidly sold out to an idea that I initially scoffed at.  

Yet, what I love about the virtual meeting format is how emotionally streamlined it is.  Everything's contained (my Silas' descriptor) so effectively versus the face-to-face paradigm.  A paradigm which elicits an awful lot of spillover, at least for me.  The virtual meetings don't leave me with heady emotional fallout that demands (of Rob) much, if any, follow-up processing.  Instead, I can just move on to the next thing with aplomb.

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Another circumstantial question that's been creeping into my brain as of late is regarding the notion of being a tenured (gray haired) Samson guy who's simply outgrown his regularly scheduled programming (face-to-face setup).  And this is probably the most audacious factor for me to wrestle with.  For I do not want to identify as such when I don't feel this way internally.  Combined with that, I default towards the Samson Society meeting experience as one that really shouldn't have any chronological narrative attached to it.  Every meeting is, in many ways, your first meeting, or at least it should be.  Whether face-to-face or virtual.  But that's simply not a true statement, even though it does, to some degree, feel that way (for me).

In closing, I know a number of guys who've not transitioned as I have from the face-to-face meeting format to virtual.  Many have simply let go of Samson Society entirely once the face-to-face offerings became unavailable or they grew fatigued / found difficulty in maintaining the pace.  Had it not been for my aforementioned early (& continued) exposure towards the explosive growth of the virtual paradigm via the National Samson Society retreats, I would have likely done the same.  

Thanks be to God for this guilt.  It justifiable, humbling, and not unlike that same freefall I experienced back in 2013.  And this time, in a rebellious sort of mindset, I kind of like it.        

Bad / Poor Mouthing

Bad / poor mouthing is the practice of tearing others down behind their backs.  It's usually executed amongst a triangulated peer group - friends, family, co-workers, and it's done because we all feel - at times - entitled to do so.  

Entitled means "believing oneself to be inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment."

Arrogance is what fuels feeling entitled.  Arrogance means "the quality of being arrogant."

Arrogant means "having or revealing an exaggerated sense of one's own importance or abilities."

Exaggerate means "represent (something) as being larger, better, or worse than it really is."

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Individuals who poor mouth should be wary of not experiencing one distinct side effect:  guilt.  Usually it's immediate for it doesn't take but a split second to hear one's own callousness.

If you're one of the fortunate ones subjected to these reactionary pangs, be thankful (whilst heeding them).  For that's your conscience doing its good work on your behalf.  

From there, drop to your knees and thank God that you still have a conscience that's properly calibrated and functional.

If you're one of those whose innards stay silent immediately following bad / poor mouthing, please make a point to read (& commit to memory) James 3 as soon as possible.

And just so you know, James was the brother of Jesus.  That makes his words that much more relevant.

Lagniappe