MONDAY. 12:21 PM. I believe the question I left my last entry with was, "What is a lonely gay boy to do?"

The last two weeks has been an exercise in overcompensation, I think. It's not a bad thing, though. Not at all. I think I have done more queer and queer-friendly things in the past fortnight than I have done in the last six months. Maybe it's the approaching vernal equinox? Spring is finally in the air.

I think it's time for a quick recap in list format:

• Two weeks ago, I went to a training for UMCP's Rainbow Terrapin Network, a new peer-training program being launched by the university's Office of LGBT Equity. The Rainbow Terrapin Network is an LGBT ally training program hoping to 1) assess individual attitudes toward LGBT people, 2) increase the knowledge base about LGBT people, 3) develop skills to cultivate a more supportive climate for LGBT people, and 4) commit to improve, support, and sustain that climate (taken from the RTN handbook).

• The weekend before last, my friend Meghan invited me to a party in DC. I drove down to Woodley Park and found parking on the street without much hassle. The party was at Meghan's friend's house -- a huge wood-floored colonial rowhouse shared by five people. It was a pretty big party. I really only knew Meghan and her girlfriend Jenn. I had a pretty good time. The party was in part a celebration of Mardi Gras and in part a fundraiser for Meghan's friend Tim, who was raising money for charity. I think the thing that I'll remember most is watching a group of eight or nine women (predominantly straight) in black wearing chunky chic boutique shoes dancing and singing to A-Ha's "Take On Me." I will also remember the Vin Diesel look-alike -- at least I think he was a look-alike.

• On Monday, March 3, I went to a lecture at UMCP by Jose Esteban Munoz, an associate professor of performance studies at the Tisch School of the Arts, New York University. It was an interesting talk entitled "A Phenomenology of Brown Feelings: La Lupe in New York." Some of it went over my head entirely, but the rest was fascinating.

• Last Tuesday night, I headed down to Adams Morgan to hang out with Nancy. What could be more queer than watching the Buffy musical and then having a hot beverage at Tryst?

• Last Wednesday night, my friends Ryan and Matt came over and made dinner. We had jambalaya in the spirit of Mardi Gras.

• Thursday of last week, I met a guy named Michael for coffee. We chatted for a little bit online the night before. I was hanging out in the DC1 room of gay.com watching the scroll. He lives in Silver Spring and suggested we meet up. He suggested we try to gather some of the other Silver Spring queers for a regular meet-and-greet like a supper club or a movie night. That would be cool. I am more than happy to continue to expand (exponentially) my queer circle of friends and acquaintances.

The capstone of the list was this past weekend. I took an impromptu road trip with my friend Dana. I called her on Friday seeing what she had planned for the weekend. She replied that she was thinking of going to visit her mother, who lives in Rehoboth, DE. She asked if I wanted to go and the rest is road trip history. We drove down to Rehoboth Beach Friday night. After dropping off our stuff, tucking mom into bed, Dana and I headed out to downtown Rehoboth, basically a long main street flanked by shops where you can buy all manner of souvenirs and shell art, strange little beach houses, bed and breakfast inns, hotels, restaurants, and of course, bars.

Dana's mother suggested we go to the Frogg Pond, which sells itself as "the best dive in town." Given that moniker, how could I not like it? It was a small place packed with mostly locals. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. We got there pretty late, around 11:30 PM. The off-season revelers were certainly reveling. According to local legend, the Frogg Pond isn't a "gay" bar but it certainly is gay friendly. Very friendly. The crowd was mostly lesbian thought Dana and I parked ourselves right next to a carousing group of gay men. It was fun. I discovered that it doesn't take a lot of cash to drink well in a beach town in the middle of winter. I had a seven and seven, a shot of SoCo, and a rum and coke.

I asked the bartender, whose name I didn't get (who was kind of cute in that "beach dude, frat boy, I'm straight but I don't mind being hit on" kind of way), where we should go next. He suggested Arena's Famous Deli Bar, which was just across the main drag in the "Village By the Sea" shopping quad. Arena's was nearly empty when we arrived. I think I might have staggered in while Dana watched bemused. It is at Arena's where I demonstrated my famous brand of extroversion for Dana. The bartender was really cool (even though he didn't know how to make a Lemon Drop martini or a Side Car. It was at Arena's that we met Patrick, the friendly neighborhood out-of-towner who was drunk off of his keister. Patrick bought us our second round of drinks while espousing the merits of drinking Ketel One vodka and attempting to hobnob about how money was no object. I was drunk. I had two rum and cokes in pint glasses and finished Dana's martini drinks. Granted, I probably would have told Patrick to sod off, but I actually didn't care. Dana didn't agree. I wanted to be friendly. Dana wanted Patrick gone. We managed to lose him temporarily.

There was live music at Arena's. A young blond-haired couple was performing. They were pretty good. She sang. He strummed. It was sort of a folksy, rocksy, acousticsy, WB soundtracksy kind of thing. I could be wrong -- I was pretty buzzy. Both were cute. She was cute. He was cute. Of course, I had to meet them. When they finished their set, I walked right up and introduced myself. Dana followed (thereby escaping Patrick). Turns out we were listening to the song stylings of Sheer Bliss. Rachel and Chad. From Portland, Oregon. On "The Living On Dreams" tour of the US. They were very nice and very friendly. I think I enjoyed the groupie thing way too much. It was sad when the bartender asked us to leave. Can you believe bars close at 1 AM?

Outside, Dana and I pondered whether we should head home immediately. There is no such thing as an after hours place in Rehoboth. I guess during the summer, after hours means going to a party at someone's house or hotel room. We had no such luck. As we were standing on the sidewalk, a car full of drunk guys pulled up. Two guys got out of the car and got into a truck parked nearby. Again, I talked to them all. According to Dana, this is when Patrick resurfaced and horned in on our accidental social club. She said he was looking for some extracurricular substances. I didn't witness it. But the guys left. Patrick stayed.

Drunk babysitting ensued. Turns out that Patrick had no idea where he was staying. Dana and I ended up walking him around the downtown area hoping something would jog his memory. I think it was more my idea to help the wayward "yupling" than it was Dana's. If she was upset about it, I didn't notice. That may have been an oops on my part. I had no idea what to do. I didn't really want to turn Patrick loose. Though I don't think any real harm would have come to him. It is Rehoboth afterall. Patrick did try to call his parents, whom he was staying with. No luck. All he had was a business card of some sort which had the address of a place NEAR where he was staying.

Eventually, I decided to flag down a lone car. The driver was a nice fellow. I asked for directions given the clues provided by Patrick's muddled memory. The driver invited us down the street to a bed and breakfast where he was the manager. Thinking nothing of it, I followed gladly. Again, I think I was the only one having a great time with the adventure. Our host was named Raphael. He had a military hair cut and had just come from the Double L, the gay leather bar of Rehoboth. Unfortunately, even maps of the area couldn't help us locate where Patrick belonged. Eventually, we decided to walk Patrick back to where we started. He obviously walked to the bar. He said it was only a few blocks. We thanked Raphael. We petted the inn's cat named Tigger. And left.

We left Patrick, too. We got to a street he seemed to recognize and bid goodnight. Hopefully, he made it back to his place safely. There really wasn't anything else left to do.

Dana and I did stop back at the bed-and-breakfast to let Raphael know what happened. He had said to drop by in case we needed anything else or whatnot. Raphael answered the door in his boxers, a sign according to Dana that he was interested in me. She even went as far as to say that if I didn't come out of the inn in twenty minutes, she would go home alone and pick me up the next day. I didn't stay. I didn't see it that way. Raphael was cute, though.

My first night ever in Rehoboth Beach was a rousing success. I had a great time. I love the confluence of happenstance. It makes life interesting and it certainly makes for a good story.

On Saturday, Dana and I walked around the beach and did a little window shopping. I called my sixth grade teacher Mrs. Etze, who lives in Rehoboth; unfortunately, she didn't have free time to come visit with me. Dana and I ate at Louie's, a great pizza and sub joint on Rehoboth Avenue; their cheese fries were amazing. The rest of Saturday was spent hanging out at Dana's mother's house, doing a little outlet shopping, having dinner, and watching Trading Spaces. We left Rehoboth that night.

I liked the little seaside hamlet. It is definitely a small, laid back place. I'd really like to see it during the warm months when everything is in full swing. I can now see why Rehoboth is called "Rehomo" Beach. I'll have to go back. Pictures here.

THURSDAY. 11:00 AM. Happy birthday to my friend Josh!

MONDAY. 11:00 AM. Happy St. Patrick's Day! And, more importantly, happy birthday to my friend Christopher!

WEDNESDAY. 9:27 AM. Life is a little twisted up in a quandry at the moment. Most of my friends know why. I found out last week that I was accepted to both of my graduate school programs. Both San Francisco State University and University of Maryland would like me to attend their Master's in English program. It's fantastic news and I'm really excited that I got in. I'm just not so excited that I have to choose.

The pro and con lists for both places are pretty well balanced. Actually, this choice reminds me of the months shortly before I decided to move to San Francisco the first time. Now I have to figure out what I am going to do, and I have to figure it out pretty darn quickly. I need to send back a response in less than a week.

Honestly, if money were not a factor, I would move back to San Francisco. Unfortunately, money (as always) is an issue. I guess I just have to figure out how to get what I want. Regardless, a choice has to be made soon. A choice will be made and then I will live with the consquences.

More later.

SATURDAY. 1:53 PM. I am listening to the Dixie Chicks. I am also thinking about a lot of things. A lot of things. Headspace is a little crowded -- a state not particularly unusual for me -- but there is a lot of stuff going on in my world and the world at large.

Locally, I am still weighing my grad school decision. Though, as the deadline fast approaches, I think I am going to head back to San Francisco. For better or naught, I think SF is just where I want I want to be. Of course, I could change my mind in half and hour. Then I'll change my mind again. Then I'll change my mind again. Then again. And again. And again. That's basically been the script for my mental state the last week or so.

It's been pretty frustrating, paralyzing.

Throw in the drama concerning the US's current military action and I'm nearly cataleptic.

I have somehow found myself playing the sole dissenting role in a number of social situations this past week. Whether it be on the street, at dinner, in the classroom, or online, I have been the blue spikey haired voice of protest. I know I'm not the only one. I know there are many, many voices out there. I've just been holding on my corner of the soap box.

One of the big things I'm decidedly peeved about is the prejudiced notion that being anti-war is necessarily anti-troops, that protesting the invasion is un-American, that wanting peace is weakness. I do not agree with the "preemptive" policy. I do not stand for fighting weapons of mass destruction with weapons of mass destruction. I do not want the current US "regime" to speak for me, act for me, kill for me. However, I do not fault those who have taken an oath to serve as best as they can. I have friends and former students here and overseas. I want them to be safe. I want them to stay out of harm's way. I question their leaders and not their following of orders.

I am sick of the reality TV take on televising the conflict. How many times can they show the same footage? How many times can they ask the same questions? It's all just sensationalism and spectacle. Maybe it would be more interesting if they had to vote a platoon out of the action at the end of every day or if Joan Rivers commented on what the soldiers were wearing as they marched.

Does anyone else find it deeply ironic that if twenty-four hour coverage was necessary and so desperately vital that we track every mote of dust, every broken twig, every flash of light, then why are there commercial breaks? Clearly, we're supposed to want to buy frozen fish sticks and a SUV while we're watching some city block get bombed to rubble. It leaves me with a really bad sinking feeling. Somehow all of this mediation, this consumerization, seems on the one hand terrible and grotesque and on the other hand strangely normal, pre-packaged, predictable, business as usual. We're too used to watching, I think. We're forgetting our other senses. We're forgetting how to listen, breathe, feel, act, and most importantly, think.

Jerry Springer almost seems more real than the "war" coverage.

I have tried to keep myself occupied. In part, it's an attempt to delay or distract myself from the choice between grad schools. In part, it's an attempt to live my life regardless of the terror warning code color level. Irony again: I cannot make the choice to go to school because of fear, yet I am determined to go on with my routine, my living so as to not give into the media-generated, government-generated fear.

I'm on spring break. After my classes on Thursday, I officially started my mid-semester holiday. I went out with my friends Ryan, Shawn, and Christine. Shawn wanted to start his spring break with a bang. Christine was our designated driver (many thanks to her). We were going to head down to Nation, but it was a concern night with a big cover. Instead, we drove into the city and went to "college night" at Apex in Dupont. There was much drinking. It was a lot of fun. I met a bunch of kids from some school near Erie, PA; as per usual, most of them were lesbians that took a liking to me. I also ran into Marcus, who recognized me after visiting my website; he discovered me via my friend George and his blog, which is very smart, very insightful, very well put together. It was a tiny, sparkling moment of celebrity for me. A) Someone other than my immediate friends read my website (and some of them don't even do that), B) someone recognized my signature spikey hair, C) and I guess I was cool enough for them to say hello. Marcus seems pretty cool; he's cute, too.

Last night, I went to the movies with Cate (who has decided now to spell her name with a C instead of a K), Skinner, Shawn, and Christine. We went to see Daredevil. It was all right. Entertaining enough. I just don't think Mr. Affleck is charismatic enough to pull of playing a superhero. But I had fun. I like Jennifer Garner (of Alias fame). I walked away with one favorite scene. If a film can do that, then I'm happy. Though, I think Marvel may be getting lazy with the mise en scene of their films. They have found that the Spiderman formula works. Daredevil was designed too similarly for my tastes. It looked, sounded, felt too much like Spiderman. I guess you don't break what works, but I think too much homogeneity is a bad thing.

The rest of this weekend is still up in the air and up for grabs. I know I'm gaming tomorrow afternoon. But from now till then, I need to figure out how to continue to distract myself.

Eventually, this d-day weekend, my decision-making weekend, will come to an end. I will have to make a choice. I hope I choose wisely.

THURSDAY. 11:38 AM. My spring break is almost over. Just a handful more days and I'll be back to grading papers and wrangling students. I have a stack of assignments I should be looking over, but I've decided to just make my spring break grading-free. I deserve it.

I have been trying to get back "on the ball" so to speak. My sleep cycle has just been a train wreck. I think it is mostly due to the fact that I have been non-stop stressing over what school to go to. My dreams have been very strange and anxious. I get up late in the morning long after the sun has been up. And I get to bed at inconsistent times. I am now making an effort to not oversleep and to find worthwhile activities to pursue.

I am glad it is finally spring. The weather has been pretty mild and pleasant. It reminds me of nice days in San Francisco. I know I have to enjoy the spring weather now before it turns swiftly to the swampy heat of summer.

I went to a party over the weekend. My friend Nancy invited me. It was some "basement bash" complete with keg and two live bands. I had a pretty good time. It was a group of people I didn't know at all. Though the crowd was pretty darn straight, the bands were fun and most of the group was very friendly. Both of the bands were from Salisbury, MD. I guess they were friends of the folks that lived at in the group house. I really do enjoy live music and having two energetic pop/rock/whatever bands playing in someone's wood paneled basement was pretty surreal. It was like being in a movie or a music video. Check out Truesetto and Three Track Mind.

Much of the beginning of the week was spent hemming and hawwing. I do it really well. I was stuck in the land of indecision. The stress of having to decide between DC and SF rippled into every other corner of my life. Deciding what to make for dinner became an arduous task. Mountains out of mole hills, right? But, I'm deciding as I type. Every day, I try to make a little more peace with my decision. What have I decided? The pendulum has swung back. I think -- I am pretty sure -- I am going to stay in the area and go with UMCP's program.

As the choice coalesces in my heart and mind and spirit, I have tried to keep busy. I have done my taxes and filed them electronically. I have actually begun the revision of Tellings. And I have been putting together a CV (curriculum vitae) to apply for teaching.

I still have some reservations about stuff. But I think with the help of my family, some good and honest friends, and some old-fashioned drunkenness, I'll be fine. I just need to start looking forward to things instead of worrying about what-if's and what-could-be's.

More later.

P.S. Again, don't watch the "war" coverage. Bail out now. Don't get wrapped up in the hype and the artificially generated suspense. A former student of mine, who is over there, wrote in an email to me: " To reinterate -- don't watch the news. The war is pretty ugly right now. In a few days/weeks, it's getting worse. Save yourselves the turmoil and take a stroll outside or go shopping, anything to get away from this mess. Take my word, none of you won't like what you hear on the news."

Let's bring them home.

SATURDAY. 11:00 AM. Happy birthday to my friends Skinner, Seth, and Ryan W! I cannot believe I now know three people born on March 29!

SUNDAY. 11:01 AM. I would like to currently protest the fact that it is snowing!

MONDAY. 5:19 PM. I have had a pretty mentally and emotionally challenging day. Fortunately, I'm not worse for wear, but I am a little tired and distracted.

March has come to a close. Time is whipping by. I spent most of the morning paying bills. It's the end of the month after all. I also had to amend my taxes; I think my brain is numb. But everything is in the mail. If there's a problem, I'm sure I'll hear about it eventually.

I also sent in my letters to my schools today. I sent in my letter turning down admission to SFSU, and I sent in my letter accepting admission to UMCP. I think the decision is the right one. I'm not entirely glad about it. In fact, last night, I had a pretty distressing dream; it was powerful enough, moving enough to wake me up in tears. I dreamt I was turning down San Francisco. I think the dream was really a culmination of all the stress of deciding these past few weeks. I really needed to decide. I need to put it down in writing. And I know that I'll be good with staying in the area and going to Maryland. I guess there is a big part of me that's just sad -- sad about not returning to SF, sad about having to put that part of my life on hold. In a way, I have to say goodbye (for now) to my life on the West Coast. I'm definitely grieving in a way.

Now, the attention has to be on making life work here, on pushing my potential here. I worked on my curriculum vitae, my CV. I need to have one to re-apply for teaching at Maryland. Hopefully, I can secure myself a solid lectureship for the next couple of years. I think once I know I have funding for graduate school, I'll feel a lot more confident about my staying in the area.

Spring break is over. I'm back to classes tomorrow. I have a stack of papers to grade, of course. I pretty much ignored them over the break. Now I have to find the motivation to look at them. It'll be good to get back into the classroom, though.

Like I said, I'm distracted. I hope to get some of my work done tonight. If not, I'll survive. I just hope I've made the right decision. I just hope that I can live by it.