Archives for posts with tag: found

10% I woke up confused in a hotel room, looked over and realized, “Oh right, I fucked a celebrity” smiled a bit and went back to sleep.

9% Realized I was content with my life

8% I take that back, help me I only have 8% battery life and I need a ride home.

7% Wondering why you didn’t text me all weekend

6% My sex life is not for you to explain to your friends, I am in control you cannot shame me.

5% Why haven’t my friends picked me up yet?

4% Wishing you were texting me but realized you were probably three beers in at 8am and realized you are too self absorbed to remember my name

3% If you aren’t 3 beers in, maybe you were in someone else?


1% It’ll be okay.


It has been two years since I made the conscious decision to take time off of school. Two years ago I left home and joined a program where I would be traveling the country doing disaster response with a team of like-minded individuals. After that year was coming to an end I decided that I wasn’t going back to school anytime soon. I now live in Chicago (New Jersey transplant) and I work as an HIV testing counselor. Leaving school has been the best decision of my life. While I understand the importance of getting an education what I don’t understand is the massive amount of stress we put ourselves under trying to get there. So you do the thing you were programmed to do which was graduate high school, get into a great school (heaven forbid you decide you want to go to community college, you are looked at like a pariah), graduate from school. Then get several unpaid internships, which do nothing for the $50,000+ debt you are in. What is next? The next logical step would be to go to graduate school to put your already increasing loans on hold to accumulate more debt. In America we feel it is appropriate to decide what we will be doing the rest of our lives at the age of 16. How in the hell does someone with raging hormones decide what their life will look like in the next 40 years. When I was 16 I was trying to survive high school just focused on getting out of that systematic prison. Okay, high school was not that bad but I didn’t like the environment I was put in, that is a whole other demon I won’t get into here. After going away to school for a semester I looked at my life and said, “Fuck this” and moved back home to do one more semester at a community college. While doing this I applied to the program where I could make a difference and travel and meet great people. I was accepted and embarked on a new journey. If you asked me two years ago where I thought I would be, I would have said something along the lines of still in school earning my degree in Biology and secondary education. If I went down that path I would be very unhappy where I would have ended up. Through my traveling and working in Chicago I realized that I want to get into psychology and sociology and work with those in need. I am happy where I am and what I do. But I made a decision when I was a young boy and told myself that traveling would be a huge aspect of my life. Due to this, I have booked my ticket to Europe for the summer, with no return date. I have been told my people that I am so inspiring and they could never do what I do; they are stuck in school and wish they could be like me. I am glad I have been able to show people there are other options out there than one set path but anyone can do it just takes the courage to one day make the move and change your life. I know that this is not an option for everyone just like I know school is not for everyone. So do what you feel is best for yourself and just do it with all your heart. I said that leaving school was the best decision I have ever made in the beginning of this now what was the best decision YOU have ever made?

Ticket purchased: Check.

July 17th I embark on yet another journey. I have booked my plane ticket to Lisbon, Portugal. I will begin my journey there and backpack across Europe for the summer. I am supposed to be going with an old friend but that doesn’t look like it is happening so I am now taking this journey by myself. If that is the case, I am excited and nervous but I cannot wait to experience something strange and unforgettable again. I made a promise to myself and that is to continue to travel, see the world, and do some good in it. I am trying to live up to that and do something worth writing about. I am always inspired by friends of mine that I have made throughout the years, they are all such free spirits, traveling anywhere they can, anyway they can. I love that my friend circle has grown to such wanderers. Not all of us are as lost as we seem, we are exactly where we want to be and exactly where we are supposed to be. A wise man once said, “I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” Robert Louis Stevenson knew that traveling was good for the soul and is very much needed. Experience cultures unlike your own and fall in love with everything.

“The journey is the destination.” -Dan Eldon

I have known pain, I have suffered. being a closeted gay man in a town full of macho men is not the easiest thing in the world to do. I battled anxiety, depression, hate, bigotry over the fear that I would be found out as a gay man… When ever since 7th grade they already branded me as a faggot I never had a choice to be who I was and that is where I will stop talking about me. Pain is something I have seen in my friends eyes constantly. Some are just better at hiding it than others. I know that growing up in a town filled with middle and upper class people isn’t always the worst thing. But we are given white privilege without even asking for it. We are spoon fed, what is “Right and Wrong” when lets fucking face the facts people there is no such thing as as right and wrong. We are raised to believe that skinny is pretty and that love is something you have to be a straight cisgender couple to have. Growing up like this leads my friends to do things that they aren’t proud of they are only doing it because society has told them that they are fucking ugly. When they are probably some of the most stunning people I have ever seen, so here is where I stop talk and here is where I let a dear friend someone who has done things in the name of fashion, beauty, wealth when all along she was stunning:

The first time I remember ever really feeling bad about myself was in fifth grade. I was in a one piece, orange Speedo, sitting on my Dad’s lap. He looked down at me, “Ariana, you have stretch marks,” he must have seen the look on my face because he followed with, “but don’t worry, I won’t tell Mommy.” No of course not, Miss I weighed 92 pounds when I got married could not know that her 10 year old actually had stretch mark on her thighs and was already pushing 86 pounds. I had always been different. As mentioned, I grew up with the fact that my mom weight a mere 92 pounds when she got married drilled into my head. My brother and sister both took after her, thin, almost frail looking. My mother even ate bread with butter and sugar on it, as a teenager to try and gain weight, but couldn’t. I ate a candy bar and seemed to go up a pants size. I wasn’t obese, but I wasn’t the skinniest either. I was a child; children have baby fat, just because I was different though, that didn’t make me wrong. I remember my brother jokingly calling me fat, when I told him how much I weighed I had to reassure him that most kids in my grade were around that weight. My mom always warning, “If you can pinch more than an inch” and reminding me to suck it in. I felt so alone; everyone in my family was thin. Who was I supposed to turn to about my insecurities?

         By 8th grade I was eating lettuce for lunch, I guess that should have been a warning sign that I was headed down such a horrible path. I remember one day at lunch a friend turned to me and said, “wow Ariana, you actually look skinny today.” I wasn’t the only one filling my head with “fat” thoughts; it was others too.  I have a Journal entry from February 24, 2009. I had just begun high school, was meeting all of these new people, making new friends and I was worried about my weight.

         Dear Journal,

… I hate food, I mean and the way people react when I don’t eat it. I sometimes think that they think I do it just for attention and not the fact that I am extremely self-conscious and have low self-esteem. I hate gym so much. And no one understands the real reason I don’t want to do any of the trust activities. No! It is not because I don’t want to be touched! It is because I feel very uncomfortable with people holding me I feel as though they all know my weight. In fact I basically never sit on anyone’s lap unless they are a girl that I am very close with. Otherwise I usually freak out especially if someone decides to randomly pick me up. For example this past weekend, when I was at Matt’s house and Dom decided to pick me up upside down so let’s think: My chub was flailing all over the place, he knew how much I weighed, and he was probably struggling to hold me. Also, yesterday after school when Andrew picked me up over his shoulder twice, he knew how much I weighed. And not to mention when he and Sal lifted me up and dumped me outside.

I used to tell my friends, “don’t touch the chub” I turned it into a joke. It was a defense mechanism, I figured if I made fun of it, maybe they wouldn’t want to, or I could feel better about myself. I didn’t.

By my sophomore year in high school I was eating less than 500 calories a day and had stuck a tooth brush down my throat, eventually I resorted to using my fingers, I found this was easier. People joked when I wouldn’t eat, one time at my friend Matt’s house a whole bunch of guys tied me to a chair and tried force-feeding me ramen noodles; I started to cry. I was so disgusted with myself, but I would secretly binge and purge. I was at war with myself, always comparing myself to others. I was short and stumpy, my friends had long legs, flat stomachs, boobs, butts, and all I had was an okay face.

         I didn’t even make out with a boy until the end of my sophomore year in high school. But once I did, I didn’t stop, it made me feel good about myself; like someone wanted me, when all they really wanted was a hook up and nothing more. I never really “talked” to a guy before, not until my freshman year in college, but we will talk about that later. I have a word document from May of 2010, it reads:


Heaviest: 115



103 5/6/10

100 5/7/10 1:15 PM: with a tampon, earrings, bra, underwear and hair tie.

Lightest: 99 1:30 PM with tampon.

 I would weigh myself over and over again, if I ate something, went to the bathroom, worked out, whatever the case. I felt in control with my eating disorder, ironic isn’t it? So many things in life I had no control over, but I could control what went in and what came out of my body.

         The summer going into my freshman year in college I got really into working out, afraid of gaining the FRESHMAN FIFTEEN. My mom had just competed in a figure competition and only weighed 103 pounds on the day of her show. My mom weighed less than me, could fit into my jeans better than me, and could rock a bathing suit without feeling self-conscious. My mom was 50 and I was 18. I had my brother train me, I was losing weight and getting in shape, I was happy. I continued his workout regiment in college, only it wasn’t enough, I was making myself throw up more often than usual, I would hide it by saying things like “yeah I worked out too hard at the gym” I would even start to “feel sick” on the walk home from the gym so that when I threw up it wouldn’t seem so out of the blue. I was good at hiding it; I had already been hiding it for so long.

Then I met a boy, the first guy to actually talk to me, and eventually my first boyfriend. I came clean to him about my eating disorder, he told me if I wanted to be with him I would have to stop, and I did. He’d lay with me in bed one day, and I pointed out everything I hated about myself, and he told me how beautiful I was, how I had nothing to hate. And I believed him. He was the first person to ever get through to me, the first person to truly make me feel beautiful, and have me believe it. All of the things he said to me though, all of the confidence he gave me, evaporated. He ended things with me, cheated on me, and told me that he never loved me, and he had been using me the whole time. I meant nothing to him, and that every time he was with me, he was thinking of her. The night I found out he cheated on me was the last time I ever made myself throw up, August 9th.  I figured, I must be this disgustingly ugly and fat person if no one wants me, even someone who claimed to love me, was just using me for a hookup like everyone else. Why didn’t anyone want me? It made me question every time he told me I was beautiful, if our relationship was a lie, wasn’t everything he said to me a lie too? After that day, I realized I didn’t want anyone else to be in control of how I felt about myself, screw society. I am beautiful and I am strong. I would like to thank him for putting me in such a low place, and forcing me to be the only person who could take myself out of that mindset for good. The hurt made me realize how much I could accomplish on my own, that I am invincible, beautiful, intelligent, and brave. After 6 years of mutilation, it has been 76 days since I have starved myself, made myself throw up, and hated myself. In that time I have overcome so much, I have learned to love myself, my body, I wake up each morning and tell myself that I am beautiful. If I am having a rough day, I give myself a pep talk about how awesome I am. If my heart is hurting, I remind myself that not everything is meant to be, and that is okay because now I am one step closer to finding my own happy ever after. And I’ll be healthy and alive to see it happen, I won’t let this disease consume me any longer. I am brave and beautiful. I am Ariana Evans and I am a survivor.

We all have our own stories. Feel free to share yours here, on your blog, with your journal, with the public. You are in control, you are loved and you are beautiful!

Do not forget it

Do not put me in a box. I am a complex multi-functional machine with different buttons, switches, cogs, and the like.   I have been noticing a lot lately that especially in the gay community there is always someone asking how I identify in the “Gay Farm?” Yeah lets call it that. Not everyone has an animal name but the two main animals are Bears and Otters. Then you have Daddy, Geek, Jock, Leather, Poz, Rugged, Twink, and Trans AMONG many other names. My appearance does not define who I am as a person nor does my sexual identity. I am a hard worker, I am a friend, a brother, a son.  I spend a good majority of my life moving and traveling.  Because if you stay in one place too long then you get potted and you leave roots in the people you meet. That is not a bad thing but it is nothing something I see myself doing for a long time. But back to labels.  I am all of these things and A LOT more. I am a lot more complex than most people take me for and that is at no fault of their own. They see me as one thing and I am forever type-cast as it in my own life. I refuse to be type-cast, I have dared to break the mold and try new things, leaving my town and the ones I love behind and maybe it isn’t for ever but it is for now. And all we have is now so why waste it being something just to appease those around you.  Fuck that.



Growing up in a semi-traditional way parts of my life always confused me. I was raised to be a strong heterosexual cisgendered male, and well that did not work out like my father intended. My mother was and is a supportive mother, always accepted me for what I was even before I knew what I was. I could always tell that from a young age my father favored my brothers and that is not a bad thing at all I hold no malice by telling all this.  I was something new; something he never had come across a gay man. And if he did he was raised in a strict off the boat Italian family so there weren’t many options to having gay friends or family members for that matter. I do not believe on my father’s side of the family there are any openly gay men or women. And for many fathers when they realize they have a gay son it is a lot for them to handle.  Let alone a son that shares the same first and last name as his.  Like I said there is no bad blood between my father and I, we just don’t have a close relationship like my brothers and him have.  He isn’t to blame nor am I. I did shut myself off from him because I thought that would have been easier.  My father has come a long way from when I was younger, he was close minded and in some ways he still is but it is a generational gap.  He voted for Obama in his second election which is something very surprising for me when I heard this and he has opened up his mind to many other things as well, he tells my mother that he is struggling accepting the fact that I am a gay man, but he still loves me unconditionally and that is all I really need from him. Life is a growing game and we all have a lot of growing to do.  Growing up the oldest of 3 brothers was also quite different. I was never into sports nor was I good at them. My younger brothers particularly the middle brother was great at sports. I tried my hand at basketball once and I was never any good. Nick he could pick up any sport and be great at it, it is just something he was always good at. Give me a paint brush and we are in business that was what I did. I painted, drew, you name it. My brain always worked in a unique way. I was always into very unique things growing up. I remember buying books on witchcraft and palm reading (Which is now a great party trick and a good ice breaker), I always was more into artwork and learning then I was into sports and working out. I don’t think that has anything to do with being gay, I think it just has a lot to do with me being lazy.  Now for my mother’s side, they are also old fashioned but not my mother, she prides herself on being a supporter of LGBTQ, Women’s rights, etc. She is always supportive of me and who I leave even if I have yet to tell her about (They all already know, so why disclose any further).  My moms parents are also pretty old fashioned. They may not agree with gay marriage but I know they love me and my other gay relatives unconditionally. It is a change for them too coming from a generation where being gay was a mental illness and was never talked about to living in a world where being gay is something people are proud of and it is more accepted.  We are still fighting for basic fundamental human rights, like love. I believe politics should stay out of the bedroom and while we are here I believe politicians should also stay out of the bedroom and not reproduce, well the stupid ones at least (Yes, Chris Christie and Rick Santorum I am looking at you oh and there are too many more to write so ill just pick on you both for now).  We have bigger fish to fry then worrying about preventing the happiness of others. But back on track to my family life: My grandparent’s will support me in whatever I decide to do, and I know they will because they have always supported everyone in our family and who I love should not and will not be a barrier for them.  Like I said earlier Life is a growing game and we are all playing it. I have not always been this open about who I am because I was still growing and learning how to live in a skin that at the time felt foreign to me. I didn’t have time to figure out who I was in high school because before I could decide I was bullied into believing I was a faggot. I was told this from 7th to 12th grade. Things got so bad that I had to threaten the aggressors that I would take legal action.  Most people who know me knew I was a fighter. I never let anyone bring me down because why should I? I was stronger than them and I knew it. I am more a man than those people who tried to bring me down.  I also did not come out in high school because why the fuck should I? No one said I had too, I was still figuring out this skin I was born into.  I never was subtle about being a supporter of LGBTQ rights, posting articles on Facebook, etc. I always had openly gay friends and no one ever questioned it and there is nothing abnormal about having gay friends when you are straight. My best friends are all straight back home and they love me no less and no more than they love any of their other friends.  It was not easy coming out to my straight friends. I came out to my best friend Shaun about 2 years ago before I left for college and I cried telling him thinking the worst, his response was, “So? Oh do you like my new watch I just got?” And that was that. I then came out to Andy and John about 6 months ago at a bar when we were all drunk visiting John at Marist. Their reactions were also as just very normal. Both of them just validated that they wanted me to be happy and we moved on. I now can openly discuss who I am seeing (if I am seeing anyone).  I remember we were going to a frat party and I didn’t have 5$ to get into the party and one of the frat guys was like, “Here man I got you covered.” *Super macho voice* They all turned to me when I got in and just laughed and called me a slut and we just laughed and moved on.  I have never felt more normal in my life. I am free to be who I am now. I now live in one of the best cities in the world, Chicago. Where I am more open than I have ever been.  So I guess this is my officially unofficial way of coming out to those who didn’t already know? I hope that you enjoyed this and I hope someone somewhere reads this and finds some sort of acceptance for themselves and they know they are not alone.


I believe in sex positivity. I believe people should have the right to sleep with whoever they want, with as many different people as they choose. I don’t believe in sluts, whores, man-whores, etc. These terms make it seem like you are better than the person you are referring to, when in reality you are no better or worse than them. I think sex should be celebrated, we are liberated, free people. I think as human beings we should be able to fully express ourselves in every aspect of our lives. Sadly, sex is such a taboo in society that talking about it is shamed, which leads people to make unwise decisions in your sexual lives. Sexual health is an overall part of you health and wellbeing so why not talk about it with your doctors, do not feel ashamed of the sex you are or are not having. You are the owner of your body and you have the right to say “Yes”, “No”, and “Let me think about it”. No one on this earth has the power to tell you what you can and cannot do in the bedroom (or wherever you like to get it on).  You are in charge of you, and only you. Your body is usable and it is beautiful. The reason I have such strong feelings is because I recently just started a new job in the HIV and AIDS field where I will begin testing those who wish to be tested for HIV and I will also be a counselor and doing some sexual education classes. I believe that sex should be openly discussed, because that is how you make HIV preventable, through correctly teaching people on the facts of HIV and AIDS and how to better protect yourselves. *Fact* You CANNOT get HIV through SALIVA. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Part of my job is to hand out condoms, when the older generation sees what I am doing I get a sassy response or a dirty look as if they have never had sex before. Open discussion leads to great conversations. I am a very open person so those who ask me questions about my sexual health I will openly answer as long as you ask in a polite manor at the proper time. I believe in doing this because people should be allowed to express themselves in anyway they wish. Again, you are in charge of your body. PROTECT THE SKIN YOU ARE IN. Love few, love many, or love all. I am not one to judge, nor should you be either.

I love being drunk. I don’t just like it because I am not supposed to do it. I like it because I like the lack of control I have on my body, and my brain. I believe that in the haze of your drunken hours you are who you really are nothing holding you back from being who you are meant to be.  I like that everyone ends up friends even if you all hate each other in the sober hours. And that is okay, we are society in a melting pot. We aren’t all meant to like each other (as much as I would like that it isn’t possible). I am proud of who I am when I am sober, but you better believe I am prouder of who I am when I am drunk because my filter leaves me for a few hours.  Oddly enough, I figure a lot of shit out that I battle day to day with while intoxicated and dancing at a house party. I realize what I want, who I want, and what I don’t want. I realized a lot last night. I realized I am terrified of leaving and moving to Chicago. It would be my luck that I meet someone and have to move a month later. I believe in fate, so whats meant to happen will happen. I realized that I have the most supportive, caring, and wonderful friends that I could have asked for. And I know that my moving won’t change the friendships I have made out here and I know that I will make some amazing friends out in Chitown, the unknown is always terrifying though. Being drunk helps me, that makes me sound like an alcoholic but it allows me to take down my walls that I so carefully build up and breathe for a little bit. I think as humans we are supposed to loosen up a bit and create moments that shouldn’t end. That is what I did. I am undone.



We live in a world obsessed with our phones and ourselves. Yes I am a part of a generation that cares more about their instagram followers than their health. I personally do love having my iPhone on me at almost all times, but I like it because it tends to help me out of awkward situations, I can sit on my phone and veg out when I do not need people talking to me about how vapid their existence actually is.

I currently have 1,578 friends on Facebook. Do you think I talk to them all? Not a chance in hell, actually for the most part I probably dislike them so what I have decided to for the past year or so is every day I am on and I see if it someone’s birthday, I delete them if I don’t speak to them or do not know them or do not like them. I spent four years in high school trying to appease everyone and talk to everyone. Now what I do is try to avoid people at all costs. It isn’t so much that I dislike people, it is just that I dislike everything my generation stands for. We are so vapid and self centered. How is anyone in this generation supposed to run a country one day when we can’t even write out a check properly?  It frightens me to know that not everyone is like me (and I don’t mean to be so self absorbed as to think my shit don’t stink, I am aware my shit stinks probably worse than yours but I volunteer my time and travel and try to make friends throughout the world because I know that there are good people around you just have to find them when they aren’t instagraming their meal for the night).  Now if I delete you on a social media site; like Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc. do not come out and ask me why I did it, because 1. Why the hell do you even know someone has unfollowed you? Are you that obsessed with yourself that you think everyone loves what you have to post. No one truly gives a shit because everyone is too worried about what they are about to post that when they like your stuff they only do it in hopes of you liking their shit, so that they can get more likes and more followers. No one really gives a rats ass about your meal choice or where you are at night? Because let us be honest for once why should they? 

That is my angry rant about my generation.

However, I have seen some amazing acts of love, kindness, respect, and courage from this generation of 20somethings so don’t think we are all terrible vapid people. Some of us still care.


I want to clarify a few things before I start writing: I have never done an illegal drug in my life or a legal drug in my life unless it has been prescribed to me, so when I had my wisdom teeth out the Vicodin the prescribed to me hits me hard man. Thus begins the Vicodin rambling now:

Vicodin has an interesting affect on me. It takes the pain away from me but it also has seemed to make me extremely horny and extremely honest. You know what they say, “write drunk, edit sober” I guess in this case write high. I have decided to only take the pill to help me sleep at night that seems to be when the pain is the worst and I can’t get to bed. I have noticed that I would not normally text people in a normal state to tell them to come over and have sex, but on Vicodin it seems to be like that is a new fun thing I like to do is text people I want to/have slept with already to come over and sleep with me.  I have realized in the haze of my “drunk” mind that I do not care about what people think of my sexual escapades; mainly because we as humans should be able to be sexually free and sexually open.  If as Americans we lived more sexually open and less violently the USA would be a less frightening place to live in. We learn through what we see, we grow up watching movies infused with violence, war, pain, suffering.  Yet, we throw real sex on the telly and one million moms or some nondescript (primarily white) organization is all up in arms because “of the children” meanwhile those same children that they are trying to protect are learning how to inject heroin by the age of 13-14.  If we teach children by what we show them. I would rather the youth of America be sexually open (and safe of course) than shooting up a movie theatre or a classroom full of innocent teenagers. Than we just full the idea for more sociopaths growing up seeing all this crime on the news and they are now thinking that they will be famous for the murders they commit. So tell me again why we are so ashamed of our own anatomy? It is the lack of control of gun laws that we should be more concerned about and less about seeing some woman on the big screen with her tits in the air. We then call a man a hero when he sleeps around and a woman is a slut. There is no difference everyone should be free to sleep with whomever and however many people they like as long as they are healthy and safe while doing so.  And I am not just saying this because I am high and horny on painkillers. It is the truth and people should just be able to experience the lust of others without feeling ashamed to tell people after it happens if that is what they choose to do.  I believe in being a slut because you should not have to label someone by who they sleep with.

That is probably all for now.