April 3, 2003
Homasekshuls
Today I was given the supreme responsibility of converting our standard American measurements for paper size, margins, and the like into more world-friendly metric measurements. And I got to asking myself why we Americans are so set on using inches, feet, miles, ounces, pounds, etc. as our standards of measurement. Are we the last country on the face of the Earth to do so?
I remember, in the 70s, there was a movement to convert the whole US of A to the metric system, but that movement failed. I think I've been told that it was because of the enormous cost involved in converting the countless road signs to kilometers in addition to the other various measurement devices already in use. It was cost prohibitive.
OK, that's a reasonable answer, but why are we stuck with a 2-liter bottle? It's true that I've never heard anyone go to the 7-11 to buy a half-gallon bottle of Coke. This morning, my apple juice bottle is measured at 473 mL and 16 fl oz and 1 pint. Even the scientific documents that I look at that are written in America, use kg and mm as standards. It seems half-assed to me. I hope that one day we will move to metric. It would be a good idea, a good idea for more prosperous times.
Which (kinda) leads me to the Iraq thing. I don't have much to say about it other than that I fully support and respect the honorable men and women fighting in our armed services...except that lousy fuck who threw grenades at his own people. But I don't have the full story on that, so I will withhold any further comments. And I said the men and women fighting, not the scary, old men deciding whom to fight. I, myself, was willing to die for my country once upon a time, but my sacrifice wasn't good enough because I am a homosexual. Yes, still bitter.
And that leads me to a story during my illustrious career as a Temporary Employee that I remembered last night. I was working at a small company doing lots of 10-key data entry. One day, I'm out having a smoke on the smoker's balcony overlooking the green, red, and brown mountains of the (Carmel) Valley. One of the guys I was working with came out to join me. He couldn't have been more than 18 years old. And point blank, he asks me, "Are you a homasekshul?" (That's how he pronounced it: ho-ma-sek-shul.)
The question came so far out of left field that I could only laugh and say, "Why yes, I'm gay." The kid blinked with a kind of stunned look on his face. I don't know if it was because I admitted it or because I answered at all. "Why do you ask?" I wondered.
"I've never met a real gay person before," he said.
"Well, now you have. How do you do?" I replied. The job (thankfully) ended the next day.
The fact of the matter is that I've never had to come out to anyone. I've always been gay by association or gay by looks. The gay by association thing I can (kinda) understand, but the gay by looks thing has always puzzled me. I mean, I don't follow fashion trends; I sort of do my own thing, whatever looks good on me, you know. And it's not like when I open my mouth a pair of Manolo Blahniks falls out. (I'm not a swishy queen, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not!) Frankly, I don't even think about being gay that much. It's so old hat for me, like having green eyes or being a leftie. It's part of who I am, but it doesn't define who I am.
So I've always been curious as to what about me people see that sets off the bells. Is it the fact that I'm so comfortable with it? At least I don't have to worry about attracting the wrong sex, although I've had two women already put dibs on me if I ever go straight. I think that's a compliment. But then again, I have enough trouble attracting the same sex, with no man alive putting dibs on me, now or for any time in the future. Whatever.
Another long one, thanks for reading!
