From The Ashes ...

OK! OK! I Heard You..

The Universe spoke to me. It fuckin threw up on me. The events of last week got me thinking about why I was so upset about it. Besides the obvious I mean. It provoked such an extreme reaction in me that I felt compelled to lash out. The question is, who am I really lashing out at, and why? After a day and a half of blind fury my rational side began to re-emerge. I reasoned that if my original intent was to protect the last vestiges of my privacy, and that was now torn from me as an option, than all of my actions to protect that option were rendered inert as well. I was now free to move about the internet unfettered by fear. And free to express my outrage as well. I found I enjoyed my liberty immensely. I realized that fate had opened a door for me. A challenge was made or at the very least implied. All that was left to me now was a decision as to whether to accept or decline.

Could I, once and for all, assume the public persona I had carefully created? Really and truly honest about my status in deed and in word? Is it time for tommyrico to fade into the background so that Tom may emerge into the sunlight? At this point does any of it even matter to anyone but me anyway? A year and a half of stories and breakdowns and truths and triumphs and still a total stranger walks away thinking I infected an 18 yr. old boy. (A now deleted comment.) Yes, of course consider the source, but when this falsehood gets repeated as fact and regurgitated ad infinitum to the point that it morphs into "I heard about this guy who..." am I doing more harm than good?

All I know for sure is I feel it's imperative to take back the name. Names have power if you let them and I obviously imbued my own name with a great deal of it. I resented letting that power be in another's hands and resolved to take it back. I considered re-naming this weblog a variation of my-full-name.com. A decision similar to Bradford's transition away from Young Bradford. But I truly love the title From The Ashes. It's been a running theme in my life long before I ever started this chronicle, indeed, even before I was diagnosed HIV+. The idea of re-birth from destruction, the act of emerging from the wreckage to live on and fight the good fight gives the story, the life, the struggle an epic feeling I've always responded to. From The Ashes, all is possible. So a name change was considered and rejected. It would be simple enough to just edit my profile attached to this and include my full name. It feels right, so I probably will. But it didn't feel like enough of a statement.

All last week, I obsessively searched the internet, launching searches and tracking down sitemeter links in an effort to gauge my exposure. Odd for an exhibitionist to even admit, but I rarely search for me (as he now knows). After all, I know where to find me. During one such search I stumbled over this:

http://gayety.net/rants/queer/what_price_a_reputation

Strange to get an ego stroke and the twinge of shame at the same time. To be proud to have even provoked the conversation coupled with the embarrassment at spending so much time last week trying to not acknowledge the very thing I claim to have no fear acknowledging. And yes, I see the issue is more complicated as you fold in fractured family issues and my own need to feel like I'm in control of every aspect of my life. But if you boil it down, at its core this was about fear, as fear is the prime motivation for almost every decision most of us make. And the overriding theme of this whole year for me has been to face my fears. As I read and re-read that page and Paul's response, a voice inside my head began to repeat itself over and over again, getting louder and louder until not listening was clearly not an option. "So, what are you gonna do about it, AIDS boy? What are you gonna do?" The doorway opened. Undaunted, and now truly unafraid, I stepped through.

My name is Tom Tricoli. I'm HIV positive. It's nice to finally be here. Call me Esther.

Reading between the lines, it appears I'm not the only one struggling with similar issues. I'm gonna miss her.

P. to the S. I ran into Mr.-Big-shot-I got-mentioned-on-Fleshbot on the street yesterday. *whispers* He's kinda cute. But I lied to ya girl, I wasn't going for drinks. I was headed for some nasty sweaty monkey lovin'. Rarr.

Do bloggers get their period at the same time after a while?