The View from Here

I was a strange child.

Well, okay.  Maybe “strange” is a bit over the topic.  Let me try a few other words. 

Unique?  Peculiar?  Unusual? 

Getting closer.  But I think all of those words still miss the reality.  Not to mention they carry with them a bit of a stigma that needs to be unpacked.

How about…creative?  Pensive?  Imaginative? 

Hrm.  Those are good adjectives that described me as a child but they still aren’t quite capturing the reality I’m trying to describe. 

Maybe because there is no easy, clean-cut way to describe people.  Or, in this case, the result of what people become because of the coping mechanisms they end up using.

Let me explain.

Today I’m having one of those “stuck on the outside, looking in” sort of days.  It’s a phrase that basically means there’s something separating you from all of the activity you want to be a part of.  Think of it like walking down a city street and passing a huge window through which you see a party going on.  Fun looking people eating great food while laughing and dancing and celebrating life in one another’s presence. 

The reality, though, is that when I say this, like many other people, I mean, “I’m trapped on the inside, looking out.”  In other words, I’m stuck inside myself and the reality I experience, longing to be a part of the world I see around me.  This isn’t a new phenomenon for me.  A lot of LGBTQ people feel this way, especially when they are literally trapped inside of themselves for fear of revealing who they truly are. 

Some of you might recognize this experience.  Growing up, particularly in my teenage years, school was not a pleasant experience.  It wasn’t that the academic work was difficult; I would have had straight A’s if I would have decided that was what I wanted.  What made it difficult was watching the people around me and, in many cases, wanting to be involved in what they were doing but never daring to step up and be involved.  I was awkward and inept, like all teenagers, I suppose.  But the big thing that kept me from coming out of my shell was fear of simply coming out.  How would I dare try to hang out with one of the guys that simply radiated cool when it wasn’t his charisma that attracted me to him but how incredibly attractive he was?  Sandy brown hair, bright green eyes flecked with gold, not a zit in sight, and (don’t you dare laugh) a permed mullet that was so damn sexy back in the day.  Not to mention his sense of humor, his quick wit, his athletic body….

….you get the idea.

Like I said, some of you will recognize the experience.  And you’ll also recognize the fear that grips you in these situations because you’re so worried about being “too interested” in something he or she does or says.  What if I laugh too hard?  What if I ask the wrong question?  What if I just say the wrong thing and he figures out who I actually am and what I actually see when I look at him?

When those are your fears, when you live with the anxiety of being discovered and outed, it just becomes easier to withdraw and live inside yourself.  If you don’t interact you don’t risk interacting too much.   Sure, that means watching the world move on around you—people laughing, having fun, falling in love, having relationships—but it’s worth the occasional twinge of pain at being left behind if you can protect yourself.

Isn’t it?

I mean, look at it this way.  If the story I’m about to share would have happened today, it would have ended quite differently.  When I was in ninth grade I was the victim of what today would have been considered an assault.  Or worse.

It was in an art class.  “Back in the day” we were required to take a certain number of art classes, music classes, writing classes…the artsy classes that are only occasionally offered now as electives because there’s not enough time in the day to indoctrinate students on taking standardized tests.  These classes were mandatory in my school.  It was a large room that seemed to ramble on in every direction.  The main part of the classroom was near the door.  Large, wooden worktables with worn tabletops which had been nicked and painted and stained by generations of pubescent Picassos were our desks.  I don’t remember what the teacher was lecturing on that day or what we were actually working on but I do remember the sense of panic I experienced when one of my classmates took a wire used for slicing chunks of clay off of the larger blocks and, from behind me, wrapped it around my neck and pulled it tight.  I’m not sure how long he held the wire around my neck but I remember the laughter of his friends and the pain when he finally released the wire.  I don’t know where the teacher was when this happened; he never did find out about it.  Plenty of students on my side of the room saw what happened but no one ever said anything.  Probably because I never said anything.  I forced myself to laugh, as if I was in on the planning of the morning’s entertainment.  I knew that if I made an issue about it my complaint would just draw more attention and more attention was not what I wanted.

If this was the kind of thing my peers did when they only suspected I was gay, what would they do if they actually knew I was gay?  If I said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing, walked the wrong way, talked the wrong way, gave someone too much attention….It was just easier (and safer) to withdraw as much as possible within myself.

I think this is how my imagination and creativity blossomed. 

I began to write in junior high school, which for me began in seventh grade.  Puberty had arrived, bringing with it a number of realizations that couldn’t be unrealized.  This is when I started pulling back within myself.  But once there, apart from the world outside, I would create worlds and scenarios.  Sometimes I would even bring the people around me from the “real world” into my imagination; if I couldn’t hang out with them in the “real world,” I could hang out with them in my fictional world where I could be the cool one that they wanted to hang around and emulate. 

So I wrote stories starring mythical versions of myself and the people who were either too cool for me to talk to or the guys I was too attracted to that I avoided lest they look into my eyes and see my soul.  Looking back at the thought of writing those stories I have to admit I’m embarrassed—but not for reasons you would think.  I’m not embarrassed because of what I turned my fear and anxiety into and how I attempted to capture the personalities and characteristics of my classmates.  It was the writing that was cringe worthy. 

I think some of the best writing, some of the best fiction, has to come from something relatable and something real.  Learning to take my struggle and turn it into a narrative in which I learned to expose my thoughts and feelings to even fictional versions of the people around me was an important lesson for me to learn.  I still do it.  In These are the Days, I’ve inserted pieces of myself and people I know into the characters.  In the new story I’m working on I’ve taken it a step further and am actually using people I knew as the rough outline of the characters in the story—and it’s working really well.

Where am I going with all this?  Well, I have two points I need to make.

The first point goes back to where I began:  I’m having a “trapped on the outside, looking in” sort of day.  It’s been….an undisclosed number of years since my high school days but old habits die hard.  There are a many people whose own paths mine has connected with in some way, whose light I find refreshing and inspiring.  Being a connection oriented person I find myself aching to learn more about these people.  This is why I hate doing “meet and greets” at concerts; the twenty minutes or so I have with the artist or artists isn’t nearly enough for me to develop that connection—especially when I have to share the artist with other people with meet and greet tickets.  So, for example, when I try to interact with people through social media and my attempts fall flat, I feel like I’m looking in through that large window at fun people having a fun time and I have no idea how to get involved. 

Still happens. 

I think it will always happen. 

So I think it’s important to remember that I’m in control of how I respond to this feeling.  If I let myself be consumed by the sights that are holding my attention through that window, I’ll become rooted to the spot.  I’ll never find a way in and I’ll just make myself feel worse and worse.  But if I choose to change my perspective, to leave that spot and turn away from those tantalizing sights, I might someday find my way “into the party.”  Or…better yet….I might find something even better to be a part of.

Remember, though, that the grass is never greener on the other side. 

The second point is this:  You aren’t alone.  I know there are people reading this who can identify with my story.  I know there are people out there who are victims not only of the ignorance and prejudice of the people around them but who are also victims of their own coping strategies, the things they do to make it through life.  Things like disengaging from the world around you because you’re too afraid that the world around you won’t accept you.  It gets better.  It really does.  And the experiences you had or are having, experiences like mine, will give you something.  They’ll give you lessons to help you be a better person.  They’ll give you motivation to become a better person.  And they may stimulate your imagination and creativity to help you help others to stimulate their imaginations while telling them that there is absolutely nothing wrong with who they are. 

A Beginners Guide to Troy Comets

Today I’m going to take a break from the relatively more serious posts I’ve been doing lately.  The last month or so I’ve seen a huge spike in blog traffic which has generated some feedback.  This makes this whole blogging adventure very exciting for me because I honestly didn’t think the blog was going to go anywhere.  I mean, I’ve tried blogging before—even using my real name and sharing it with family and friends and colleagues.  But to be honest?  I’ve had more readers and support and reaction from you, dear reader, using my pseudonym, than I did when I used my real name and shared with people who actually know me.  Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?

So, I thought I would pause today and share a few things you might like to know about me and my blog. 

·        Just to be clear, Troy Comets is a fictitious name.  If you haven’t had a chance to do it yet, you might want to quick go and read my first blog post here.  It gives you some important background on why I chose to write with a pseudonym (fake name).  The cliff notes version is this:  Because of my life situation, coming out has been next to impossible and became more complicated with each passing year.  Obviously that wasn’t my intention; even telling lies for what seem like very good reasons results in chaos that doesn’t just affect your life but the lives of people around you.  Adopting the name “Troy Comets” has allowed me to not only publish the kind of stories I would have wanted to read as a teenager/young adult if the world had been different but it’s given me the chance to start this blog and try to make a difference.

·        Because of my need for anonymity and my appeal to you, the reader, to respect that, I try very hard not to share too many details about my non-Troy Comets life.  I think I’ve let a few things slip between Twitter (@TroyComets) and a few remarks in some blog entries.  I do live in Minnesota and I have traveled a bit.  I have quite a bit of education behind me.  I’m not saying that to brag and I’m not going to go into detail.  I think, dear reader, if you stick around long enough you’ll probably be able to figure out what my areas of study were in graduate school.  I just want to remind you of our agreement:  I’ll be here for you, sharing my knowledge and experience and even being that hole in the virtual wall through which you can scream and yell and cry (which I’ve been for a few of you already and you don’t know what an honor it is to have that experience)—all I ask in return is that you don’t go peaking around the curtain.  I’m not naïve.  I know if someone wanted to know who Troy Comets really is they could find out in no time.  But I believe in the inherent good of people and know that my readers aren’t the kind of people to out someone who has explained why coming out isn’t an option right now.

·        Blogging is an interesting thing for me.  I sometimes find that I blog the way I speak.  The way I speak is considerably different from the way I write.  Here’s the difference.  A couple of weeks ago I wrote this blog post on “Community,” having been inspired by a YouTuber by the name of Travis Bryant (@TravisBryantNYC on Twitter).  This is what a lot of my non-fiction writing looks like.  It’s research and cohesive argument driving to an ultimate point.  When I speak publicly as part of my non-Troy Comets life I intentionally leave loopholes and gaps in my thoughts and arguments.  I’ve noticed this approach in my blogging now, too.  The reason for this is that when I speak and when I blog I’m trying very hard to engage people in conversation.  I’m not here to impress you, dear reader, with my knowledge and my experience and beat you over the head with sound, air tight arguments every time I post a blog entry.  There’s a place for that kind of written communication and, as a rule, it’s not here.  I prefer to think of my blog as a kitchen table at which we can gather.  I’ll bring my stories and my experiences and you bring yours and let’s just…talk.  So I leave gaps in my blog writing.  I don’t always flesh out concepts or drive home arguments as hard as I could because I don’t want to control what you think.  I’ll share a thought or an idea or an experience, talk a little about it, and leave it alone for YOU to turn over and interact with.  One of the critiques I give myself is “You should develop this idea more” or “Talk more about this.”  For example, my post Soundtrack could have had more detail, more meat to it.  But that wasn’t my goal.  I didn’t want to talk about myself, I wanted to use myself as an example to encourage you to think about yourself.  I hope that makes sense.  I also hope that it doesn’t come off as condescending.  I just want to have a conversation and that’s just not going to happen if I’m dominating my blog with fine-tuned rhetorical arguments and research discourses. 

·        My goal with the blog since the beginning was to put out two posts each week: Wednesday and Sundays.  The problem is that inspiration is a fickle partner in this adventure.  Though I don’t think I’ve dropped below two posts in any week, I know that I’ve gone beyond that.  Just know that my goal has been two posts each week.  The other factor that complicates things is I’m currently working on my second book.  I’m really pleased with its premise and progress.  It seems like the story is so desperate to be told that it’s writing itself.  But it is a time consuming process and, unlike These Are The Days, I’ve had to do a lot more research for the new book.  I’m still writing what I know and what I would have liked to read but fortunately I always need to know more.  So know that if I’m late on a post or I miss my quota, I’m probably consumed with the new book.  My goal is to get it out early summer. 

·        If you haven’t done it yet, you really need to follow me on Twitter (@TroyComets).  That way I can follow you, too.  Like I said, the whole point of much of this blog is to have conversations.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking time to read my thoughts but I also want to hear your thoughts.  I want to hear your story.  Following me on Twitter also gives you a chance to help me out with the blog.  Sometimes I throw ideas out there or request ideas/stories from my Twitter followers.  If everyone who reads my blog were to follow me on Twitter and engage in some way….I just got goosebumps over just thinking about the great conversations we can have and what we could learn from each other.  Since starting the blog at the end of January it’s had just over 800 views from all over the world.  That’s a HUGE kitchen table!  Let’s make use of it!

That’s it!  I want to close, though, by expressing my sincere gratitude for your support.  It means so much to me, dear reader, that of all the choices you could make and all the things you could do and all of the other blogs you could be reading, you are taking the time to read this one.  Thank you.  I hope I make it worth your while.  

Thank You

I want to take a small break from the deeper reflections I’ve been writing and say THANK YOU to you, dear reader.  Why?  Well, apart from the fact that you’re taking time out of your day to read this note, I have a few notable reasons to be grateful.

1.     Last night when I checked the readership of my blog I saw that not only am I reaching people in the United States and Germany (as I’ve done since the beginning), I also have readers in Ireland, France, and Poland.  You don’t know how cool it is for me to see that much interest in what I have to say.  Since launching my blog on January 27, 2016 I have had nearly 370 viewers.  I’m not a math major; I’ve often said that math is evidence of the reality that there is an ultimate evil in the world.  But those 370 views works out to be an average of 14 people per day (I think) cruising by.  That astounds me and humbles me.

2.     I logged into my publishing account last night and learned that my book, These Are The Days, has not only earned a 4/5 star review (my first review!!) but I have a royalty check about to drop.  I’m not going to lie—the royalty check is a nice thing.  What’s even cooler, though, is that people are reading my book and seem to be liking it.  I am so grateful for this!  When I first self-published the book I was so worried that not only would people not enjoy the book (in part because I did it on the down low and didn’t have an editor sweep through it), but that I would take the risk of exposing myself for nothing.  So far that hasn’t been the case.  You guys are awesome!

3.     Because of the support I’ve seen through watching people come to my blog and read my book, I have been so encouraged.  There are still those moments when I worry that people will discover who Troy Comets really is but until then I feel like I’m doing some good.  That’s an affirmation I sorely needed in my life. 

4.     Also because of your support I am roughly one fourth of the way through a new manuscript for a new story.  It’s another LGBT “coming of age” book but I think it’s a little more complex as it tackles topics like culture, identity, stereotypes, and bigotry based on race, sexuality, and religion.  Feeling inspired after seeing all of these numbers and reports, I wrote what I think is one of the best scenes I have ever written last night.  I can’t wait to share it with you!

I am so grateful to you, dear reader, for joining me on this journey.  I’m sure that some of the people who visit my blog and read my book are not too different from me, being trapped in a place where coming out flat out isn’t an option.  Believe me, I respect that and pray for the day where we can all be who we were meant to be.  I understand completely your desire to learn more, participate vicariously, and keep yourself safe by not subscribing and deleting your history. 

But for everyone else, if there is one thing more I could ask of you it would be to find and follow me on twitter.  I’m still learning the twitter ropes and all the cultural pieces of the twitterverse, but I think that what I appreciate more and more about twitter is the ability to be in rapid and sometimes meaningful contact with people.  I think we all need someone out there to act as a hole in the wall into which we can whisper our secrets and dreams and aspirations without fear of consequence.  Since it seems that Troy Comets has taken up residence in that hole in the wall, please know that I’m here for you.  You can follow me on twitter @TroyComets.

So, again, thank you.  Someday hopefully I can find the words that will convey what you mean to me, dear reader. 

The Story of YOUR Life

In “These Are The Days,” as Tyler struggles to come to grips with his sexuality and the dysfunction of his family, he often looks at Caleb and Caleb’s family and expresses a desire to have the things Caleb has.  To Tyler, Caleb has everything figured out and has a healthy family that supports him unconditionally.  At one point Caleb shares some advice his mother shared with him:

“When I came out to my mom,” Caleb started slowly, conjuring the memory in his mind.  “She said that we all wish we could be something or someone other than we are.  All of these people we want to be like, we don’t know their whole story.     Are they really that smart or good or inspirational?  Do they really have it all together?  And more importantly, how did they get that way?  Something or someone happened in their lives to help them become the person we see, who we end up being jealous of.  My mom said that instead of focusing on other people and their stories we should focus on our own story and make it the best it can be.”

People are constantly looking around themselves and comparing their own lives to what they imagine to be the lives of the people they respect or envy.  Notice I said “imagine.”  Our imaginations are really good at filling in the blanks that exist in our appraisal of other people’s lives.  Let me give you an example.

I’m fascinated with youtuber culture.  I can’t tell you how much I enjoy watching someone who is figuring out their gifts, who has the ambition to figure out the technology, and who not only  discovers a voice inside of themselves but a following in the world that wants to hear that voice.  There are some people on youtube who have literally changed the medium.  People like Zoella (who just crossed the ten million subscribers mark on her youtube account today) set the bar high.  They originate quality entertainment, collaborate to augment their own skills and gifts, and even sometimes articulate very real struggles they face in their lives. 

Those of us who peek through the youtube window into the homes and lives of these internet celebrities sometimes walk away wishing that what we just saw was a part of our own lives.  We all do it.  I’ve done it.  I talked about this a little in my first blog post; a part of me watches these incredibly talented people who seem to have their lives together and/or seem to be having the universe handed to them and I envy that.  I sit and wonder what my life would be like if I had the access to today’s technology fifteen years ago or if I could figure out “a voice” or “an angle” that would help me accumulate a following and all of the opportunities that come with that. 

The problem is, of course, that the five to fifteen minute video that is opened to the world via youtube only shows a small portion of the 23+ hours that remain in that person’s day, not to mention the 167+ hours that are unrecorded from that person’s week, 52 weeks out of the year.  Like I said, some youtubers are good about speaking to the world honestly about some of their struggles.  Going back to Zoella, I’m deeply impressed that she has so openly spoken of her struggles with panic and anxiety.  Some youtubers have powerfully shared their coming out stories.  Others never draw attention to their low points or their struggles or the challenges they face in life. 

And that’s okay.  Maybe that’s not a part of their voice or their vision.  I don’t think it’s the responsibility of every youtuber to offer the world a 100% accurate portrayal of their lives.  I do think it’s important for us to remember, though, that when we look at youtubers or recording artists or actors or that kid in our class or the person at work—all of these people who seem to have it all together, who appear so talented, who are lucky enough to have everything go so smoothly for them—we have to remember we don’t know their entire story.  We only know what we see.  Everything else that causes us to wish their life was our life is simply a product of our imagination. 

In reality the only person’s story we know completely (or as completely as we possibly can) is our own.  Too many times we look at our own stories and discount, discredit, and disregard them.  Our experiences are mundane, our talent is negligible, our opportunities are limited. 

Here’s the problem with that thinking.  When we compare the story we create for that person we envy to the story we muddy up for ourselves, we corrupt our story. 

How many of us would sit by and listen to someone tear another person apart?  “Your life is a mess!  Why can’t you be more like so-and-so?  Why are you too stupid to figure things out?  Why can’t you be funnier?  Why can’t you do your hair different?  Why don’t you have cooler friends?”  If we were walking down the street and came across someone being so insulting and abusive to another person, very, VERY few of us would keep walking.  We would do something to intervene.  But this kind of abusive talk is what we subject ourselves to all of the time when we compare ourselves to other people, when we minimize our own story and glorify the stories of people we don’t even know.  And like all victims of verbal abuse, we eventually begin to believe the things we so harshly tell ourselves. 

There is no greater power that we can be given than to take ownership of our story.  By all means, be honest with yourself about your shortcomings.  I’m never going to record an EP and I’m never going to paint a masterpiece.  But I am much more than my shortcomings and I will not give my shortcomings and my failings center stage in the story of my life.  I will be candid about the difficult things as best as I can, but the story of my life is not the story of a victim.  I will not exaggerate my gifts and talents but I will take pride in my knowledge and my abilities and how I am able to use these things to help others.  I will tell my story by telling my story not by drawing comparisons with the stories of people I wish I could emulate. 

God knows it can be a struggle to wrestle control of your story away from that voice in your head that likes to tell you what you lack and how far short you fall.  I think the power of our narrative is like any other muscle in our body; we have to exercise our commitment to telling our story for it to become as natural as catching yourself from falling on the ice. 

Before I end this entry, I want to address the irony of my advice to you.  “Physician, heal thyself” or some other similar sentiment has probably crossed your mind while reading this post.  How can someone who seems to be trapped by other people’s expectations be qualified to comment about the need to resist being trapped by our understanding of other people?  I’m not going to insult you by saying, “Take it from me.  This is a lesson from the trenches.”  Instead I’m going to remind you of a couple of things I’ve already said.

First, taking control of your story is a struggle.  It’s not something that happens all at once.  It’s also not something that, once done, won’t need to be done again several more times.  We all have ups and downs, good times and bad.  And that little voice inside each of us is always ready to start tearing us down again.  How we struggle to own our story is one of the fundamental themes of our stories. 

Second, we find those things in us that we can do and we embrace them.  I can’t come out at this point in my life, but I can write.  I can share my knowledge and my experience.  Like I said, I won’t exaggerate my gifts and talents but I will take pride in how I use these things to help others.  And that’s really what the writing of Troy Comets is all about—offering people the help and support and experience that is in me that only Troy Comets can express right now.

So, how about you?  How do you own your story?  What struggles have you had to overcome to take control of your story?  What nips at your heels, trying to trip you up and so you fall back into that old habit of talking to yourself in derogatory ways? 

As always, share what you’re comfortable with and if you ever need to talk, I’m always here.  

Hello! My Name is NOT Troy Comets

I am a writer.  

Well, I'm a lot of other things but they all lead back to writing.  I'm not going to claim to be a good writer or even a fair writer.  I'll leave that judgment up to you.  I do know that it's fairly easy for me to make words bend to my will and I've always been complimented on how well I communicate through writing.  

I've been a writer, or at least a writer-on-the-grow, since I was eleven years old.  I'm now in my early 40's.  Although I have assured you that I would leave the estimation of my writing skill up to you, dear reader, I think I can safely say:  I am MUCH better than I used to be.  It took me a long time to find my voice.  

And I guess that's what this blog is about:  My voice.  Or least an opportunity to add my voice to a larger, ongoing conversation.  You see, as I point out in my little "about me" summary on the right, Troy Comets is not my real name.  It's a pseudonym I've adopted for the purposes of writing.  (Someday I'll tell you the story about how I came up with the name.)  This name gives me a chance to share the thoughts and the stories that live in my head.  

So you're probably wondering what the big deal is and why I would need a fake name.  If you knew me (and I hope you will get to know me) you would know how difficult the decision was to adopt a fake name for the purposes of sharing my thoughts and my work.  I am an adamant proponent of people owning their words.  Most younger readers probably won't understand this but many older readers probably will be able to identify all too easily.  You see, dear reader, I am gay.  

...wow.  I have to stop for a moment even in writing this.

It's strange to write that so plainly, so boldly, so...openly and honestly.  My heart feels like it's about to pop inside my chest for the anxiety typing those three words.

I am gay.  

It's been an extremely difficult journey to get to the point where I can even type those three words, those six little letters, the truth that very, VERY few people actually know in my real life.  I was born at a time and raised in a place where gay was definitely not okay.  Yes, I realize it's 2016 and older, married professionals from every walk of life are finding ways to come out.  This isn't a possibility for me.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.  I can hope that someday I'll be able to say those three words without having a panic attack, but for now I can't.  This is my reality.  This is my life.

The difficult thing has been, though, that I don't want other people to struggle with the things I have been forced to struggle with.  I celebrate in my heart the equality that the LGBTQ community has won in the past year and I look forward with great anticipation to the accomplishments we have yet to achieve.  I thrill when I find myself drawn into those endless youtube autoplays of coming out stories and see, for the most part, the relief that the freedom of an identity claimed brings people.  And, to be honest, I struggle with the whole “If only I knew then what I know how” arguments I have with myself which typically lead to bouts of depression. 

The next question you probably have for me, dear reader, is:  Why now?  What has changed in my life that would cause me to make such a precarious decision as to put myself out there with such a weak cover?  Especially knowing that anyone with any technological talent will be able to peak behind the sheer curtain and see who I really am?  There are three fundamental reasons.

First, I have finished a story and, for better or worse, I have self-published that story.  It’s the very first story I am actually pleased with and the topic is pretty relevant, I believe.  It’s the kind of book I wish I would have been able to read when I was growing up.  That being said, it’s self-published.  It’s not as fine-tuned as it should be.  Every time I look at the manuscript I see things that need to be fixed or improved.  I chose to self-publish and get the story out there because I’m desperate to be a part of the conversation and try to make a difference.  Though the final product would have been a better product with an editor involved, I just couldn’t bring myself to taking that big of a step and exposing myself so obviously.

Second, I have been inspired.  You see, I’m a youtube addict.  There are very few things I’ll watch on TV but I will sit and watch youtube like there’s no tomorrow.  Music, knowledge, stories---all there ready to be discovered.  For the past couple of months I’ve been drawn into the “youtuber culture” in which talented people from all over the world post video blogs, providing not just entertainment for the viewer but a candid glimpse into their lives.  Travis Bryant, Zoella, Caspar Lee, Troye Sivan, and so many others—all sharing the power of their stories, inspiring not just their generation but obviously MY generation as well.  In the interest of fair disclosure, though, I need to tell you how very jealous I am of these brilliant people who are changing the world.  I wish I would have had the chance to make use of technology like these people; imagine the difference I could have made.  Imagine the person I could have become.

But that just wasn’t in the cards.  I’m okay with that because my journey, my story, gives me an insight into issues that I think people need to be aware of.

And that leads to the third reason I’m putting myself out there now.  Recently I was sitting on the sofa, all of these thoughts and inspirations and drives and needs colliding in my head, and I was trying to figure out what to do.  How do I share my story?  What do I have to offer?  I continually ran into the problem that *I* am not in a position to offer much of anything.  BUT…Troy Comets certainly can.  Troy Comets is fairly unfettered as long as we, dear reader, can agree to respect one another. 

It's a seriously risky thing I'm doing, you see.  I realize this is the internet and there are no secrets on the internet.    I also know that, because this is the internet, people can chose to be ignorant of certain facts.  In this case, it is my hope, dear reader, that you will chose to be ignorant of my true identity.  Troy Comets, for all intents and purposes, is me.  I simply can’t use my own name at this time.

Well, that was a lengthier first post than I had imagined I would write.  I hope it explains what “the point” of this blog will be and I hope that it’s caught your attention.  I hope that, as we move forward together, you will feel comfortable sharing pieces of your story with me.  I hope that this blog doesn’t become a soap box but instead serves as a launching platform for conversations.  This world has enough people talking at each other; let us agree, dear reader, to speak with each other.  Let’s share our stories with each other and the world.  Let’s see if we can make a difference.