<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:40:06.050-04:00</updated><title type='text'>..::|:.: Scattered Words</title><subtitle type='html'>"in brokeness, I could see, that this was your will for me..." :: Jeremy Camp</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>144</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108739055307643959</id><published>2004-06-16T08:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-16T14:27:11.616-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Moved.</title><summary type='text'>The new site is ready for you all to start reading. http://scatteredwords.com. Please let me know of any bugs you come across, as I'll be doing a lot of work over the next couple of days.A couple of notes:-All the old posts are there, but they are not all completely "functional" -- some links are missing and the formatting has been stripped. I'll fix them when I can.-I don't have a good easy </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108739055307643959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108739055307643959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/moved.html' title='Moved.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108739019330697272</id><published>2004-06-16T08:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-16T14:28:21.750-04:00</updated><title type='text'>When.</title><summary type='text'>When there are no more bathhouses, no more gay bars and clubs with "backrooms", no more websites dedicated to cruising and random hookups, etc., etc., etc, then I won't be able to write about those things. When the homosexuality stops revolving predominantly around sex, then...I know a lot you want to deny my experiences and my observations, that you don't want people to hear what I have to say</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108739019330697272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108739019330697272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/when.html' title='When.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108733443649823341</id><published>2004-06-15T17:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-16T14:30:06.430-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bathhouses.</title><summary type='text'>I was reading Tony's blog today, Hoshaw. He has a post about a pretty famous bathhouse, SteamWorks, which is in Chicago (there's a couple actually, but he's referring to the Chicago one). I'm suprised that a guy who goes to seminary would be comfortable using a church metaphor to describe a bathhouse (I think he's just repeating a common euphemism, but still). He goes on to describe the bathhouse</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108733443649823341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108733443649823341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/bathhouses.html' title='Bathhouses.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108726777120027206</id><published>2004-06-14T22:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-14T22:52:22.903-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Smooth Sailing.</title><summary type='text'>Not a lot to say right now. I've been working a lot, and thus, occupied (which always seems to be good -- being idle leads to temptation which leads to trouble which leads too...).I was reading this forum tonight -- I've been skimming it since they started talking about me a week or so ago, but the conversation has taken on a life of its own. There was one poster, who simply noted that she/he </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108726777120027206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108726777120027206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/smooth-sailing.html' title='Smooth Sailing.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108724800786578812</id><published>2004-06-14T17:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-14T17:20:07.866-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving.</title><summary type='text'>I've made the decision to move to a dedicated web address and start using Movabletype to manage the site content. The import from blogger went okay, but I have a lot of work to do to restore the links and some formatting to the posts. This site will continue to run as a mirror to the MT site indefinitely; I'll continue to update here the same as the other site, but commenting will be shut down at</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108724800786578812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108724800786578812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/moving.html' title='Moving.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108718243212103524</id><published>2004-06-13T23:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-13T23:10:40.076-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Amazed.</title><summary type='text'>I've received some really great e-mails tonight. They've been overwhelimingly uplifiting and encouraging, which is so not the norm. I normally don't quote e-mails, as I like to keep those private, but I want to quote this one part (since he was quoting someone else, I don't think he'll mind):"Sexually abused children not only face an assault on their developing sense of their sexual identity, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108718243212103524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108718243212103524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/amazed.html' title='Amazed.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108705918430826308</id><published>2004-06-12T11:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-12T12:53:04.306-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Friendship.</title><summary type='text'>I think God's been teaching me some things about friendship. That doesn't mean I know what it is, yet. But there's something I'm supposed to be learning here. What I wouldn't give for a burning bush right about now.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108705918430826308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108705918430826308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/friendship.html' title='Friendship.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108705466503729915</id><published>2004-06-12T11:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-12T11:37:45.036-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Questions.</title><summary type='text'>I received an e-mail this morning from someone who wanted some clarification about all this stuff. The author suggested all my readers might benefit from the answers, so I hope she doesn't mind if I post them here. I think I have touched on most of these, but they bare repeating anyways.1 - Why am I doing this? What made me decide to try and change?A lot of things. Mostly the idea of how </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108705466503729915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108705466503729915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/questions.html' title='Questions.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108701790745057927</id><published>2004-06-12T00:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-12T02:01:33.900-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A lesson.</title><summary type='text'>Once again, I must diverge from my intended purpose of this blog for a moment. It's to provide a quick lesson in copyright law.Bill is upset because he wrote about me, and I quoted him. Bill wrote me an e-mail (two actually) telling me how much he didn't like it. I didn't respond to his e-mails, but I'll respond now. He and Steve seem to be buddies, as I found this on a comment thread at </summary><link rel='related' href='http://fairuse.stanford.edu' title='A lesson.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108701790745057927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108701790745057927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/lesson.html' title='A lesson.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108692464773201720</id><published>2004-06-10T23:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T23:34:16.186-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sobering.</title><summary type='text'>From an article at oneBYone:"We have never hidden the fact that attempting to change one's homosexuality is probably the most difficult challenge a Christian will ever face..."Are you kidding me? I suddenly feel very unprepared and too young to be facing my most difficult challenge ever. Isn't that supposed to be something that happens later in life? I question my strength for this. The long </summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.oneby1.org/resources/top5myths.html' title='Sobering.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108692464773201720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108692464773201720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/sobering.html' title='Sobering.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108692302041408502</id><published>2004-06-10T22:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T23:03:40.413-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Grow Down.</title><summary type='text'>I found a new site, thanks to Every Tomorrow. It's called Deeper Devotion: Grow Down. I read this on their daily devotion page (online devotionals are cool, 'cause they're free).... I can tell you that the instructions have never forced themselves into my hand or made my face turn and read them. That’s because it’s my job to seek them out and to understand them. The problem is, I don’t value </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108692302041408502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108692302041408502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/grow-down.html' title='Grow Down.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108689686334001713</id><published>2004-06-10T15:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T18:28:53.226-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Choice.</title><summary type='text'>This is one of the few things that does make me hurt, because it represents how little is understood about the ex-gay movement:"If it can be changed, then it is a choice. If it can be changed, anyone can change it if they try hard enough, and those of us who have tried and failed are just failed, pathetic human beings."I don't believe it is a choice, regardless of whether change is possible or </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108689686334001713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108689686334001713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/choice.html' title='Choice.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108687232455915039</id><published>2004-06-10T08:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T23:06:49.363-04:00</updated><title type='text'>More misinformation.</title><summary type='text'>I'll leave this guy to read my "Things I've Never Said," post, too:The dude doesn't say, "I'm promiscuous and have a series of unsafe and empty sexual encounters that leave me deeply spiritually unsatisfied. I want to change that." He says, "Homosexuals are promiscuous and have unsafe and empty sexual encounters, leaving them deeply spirtually unsatisfied. I am a homosexual. Therefore, I want </summary><link rel='related' href='http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showpost.php?p=4950420&amp;postcount=41' title='More misinformation.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108687232455915039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108687232455915039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/more-misinformation.html' title='More misinformation.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-10868380500810636</id><published>2004-06-09T23:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-09T23:27:30.083-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thorns.</title><summary type='text'>It's that time of year when most guys (myself included) bare it like Beckham and I had something very insightful to write in regard. But, I think I'll save it until tomorrow. The blog has received a couple higher profile links today, and as I was reading through some of the stuff out ther -- I got to thinking. Put your seatbealts on, it's a rocky road.Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/10868380500810636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/10868380500810636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/thorns.html' title='Thorns.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108680724625435643</id><published>2004-06-09T14:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-09T14:54:06.253-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What didn't work 8.</title><summary type='text'>Trying to Force Opposite-Sex AttractionSome of the worst ... advice we ever received was to resolve our homosexual feelings by dating women ... to arouse interest. We already loved women - as sisters. We identified with them - too much so. Our problem was not generally with women, so that's not where the solution lay. Our problem was with heterosexual men and masculinity, and with our own </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108680724625435643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108680724625435643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/what-didnt-work-8.html' title='What didn&apos;t work 8.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108675100337010090</id><published>2004-06-08T22:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T00:29:13.606-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Genetics (updated).</title><summary type='text'>I suck at genetics. It was probably my worst bio class of the whole lot of them. Those darn fruit flies were cunning and sneaky, I tell you. They'd always wake up half-way through my tests and fly off the petri dish, destroying weeks of work. And there's really no catching a fruit fly. You can try, but you just look really funny.Anyway, I was thinking about genetics and the whole idea of a gay </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108675100337010090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108675100337010090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/genetics-updated.html' title='Genetics (updated).'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108674953904856521</id><published>2004-06-08T22:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-09T00:36:29.223-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Calculated Risk.</title><summary type='text'>I cried myself to sleep last night, for the first time in a long time. It used to be a common occurence in college. Too many old memories, I guess. I feel a lot better now, time passing and all. Truth is, I'm lonely. Living Hope would tell me to turn to God in times like this (a lot of people would tell me that, and rightly so). But God is so intangible sometimes. So silent. It reminds me of that</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108674953904856521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108674953904856521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/calculated-risk.html' title='Calculated Risk.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108666701387459411</id><published>2004-06-07T23:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T23:56:53.873-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Journaling.</title><summary type='text'>I planned to be in bed an hour ago, so this will be short. I read through an old journal that I kept on blogger a few years back, right before the big blog explosion. I was in the midst of just starting to deal with the whole childhood abuse stuff, so that was primarily what I wrote about.But I was also writing in the midst of a lot of personal conflicts at school, confusion about a friendship,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108666701387459411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108666701387459411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/journaling.html' title='Journaling.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108665227143492143</id><published>2004-06-07T19:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T22:41:48.256-04:00</updated><title type='text'>God.</title><summary type='text'>One of things I talked about when I started writing here, was my relationship with God. It was lacking then and it still is. Not as much, but the room for improvement is vast. I was reminded of that today in an e-mail from a friend, whose advice I'd asked for. One thing he said was remarkably similar to something Jack said:"Honestly, I think it's just a distraction tactic to keep you from doing</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108665227143492143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108665227143492143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/god.html' title='God.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108664452197217858</id><published>2004-06-07T17:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T19:52:16.606-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Misinformation.</title><summary type='text'>It's becoming a constant battle, and I can't stop it. Justin sums it up well, for me. But I will point some stuff out. Such as, Chris:"...something that purports to be by "Ben", a 22 year-old student from Washington DC."I'm not a student. Never said I was. It's an honest mistake I'm sure, but a careless one nonetheless."However, his "experiences" read a bit too much like the case-stories from</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108664452197217858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108664452197217858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/misinformation.html' title='Misinformation.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108664220675932985</id><published>2004-06-07T16:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T17:03:26.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What didn't work 7.</title><summary type='text'>More from People Can Change:Isolation and SecrecyAs long as we kept our "shameful secret" hidden and attempted to fix it in isolation and secrecy, we made little or no progress. ... Problems relating to others do not heal in isolation without relationships. Fear of trusting others cannot be overcome without taking the calculated risk to trust.Hmmm. Calculated risk to trust. I don't know about </summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.peoplecanchange.com/What_Didn%27t_Work.htm' title='What didn&apos;t work 7.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108664220675932985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108664220675932985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/what-didnt-work-7.html' title='What didn&apos;t work 7.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108663729898894873</id><published>2004-06-07T15:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T15:42:38.483-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sponsored links.</title><summary type='text'>We've been pulling so much of Fifteen Minute's bandwidth (they host images and whatnot for my site) that I've decided to ad a small sponsored link section. Any money earned will go to Fifteen Minutes to pay for the amount of bandwidth I'm stealing from them.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108663729898894873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108663729898894873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/sponsored-links.html' title='Sponsored links.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108658412657174450</id><published>2004-06-07T00:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T00:55:26.570-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Absence doesn't equal non-existence.</title><summary type='text'>I find myself addressing the concerns, fears and worries of the readers here more than I do my own fears and worries and concerns. That's okay, it's part of having a public blog.I've written nearly 20,000 words here so far, and as I said earlier, there's so much on my mind and so much I want to write about. But I write all day long and some days, can only write so much (though I love it so). I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108658412657174450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108658412657174450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/absence-doesnt-equal-non-existence.html' title='Absence doesn&apos;t equal non-existence.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108658337232632754</id><published>2004-06-07T00:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T00:42:52.326-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What didn't work 6.</title><summary type='text'>There's so much to write, seriously. So much stuff in my head, but I'm short on time. I should've been in bed an hour ago. But I wanted to comment on this:Shame, Self-Ridicule and Self-Hate For those of us who once "came out" as a homosexual and embraced "gay pride," we found it immensely freeing to release the shame, self-ridicule and self-hate that had crippled us for so long. ... Until we </summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.peoplecanchange.com/What_Didn%27t_Work.htm' title='What didn&apos;t work 6.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108658337232632754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108658337232632754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/what-didnt-work-6.html' title='What didn&apos;t work 6.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108647894921181462</id><published>2004-06-05T19:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-05T19:42:29.213-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Caricatured.</title><summary type='text'>I find it telling that there are those who can only deal with what I say by refusing to believe I exist. But they will have to face me someday, because I'm not alone. Maybe it won't actually be me, but it will be someone like me. You will have to wrestle with the questions I'm asking. You will have to admitt that there are people who change; people that desert what you hold to be innate and </summary><link rel='related' href='http://dictionary.reference.com/search?r=2&amp;q=caricatured' title='Caricatured.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108647894921181462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108647894921181462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/caricatured.html' title='Caricatured.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108647838953705704</id><published>2004-06-05T19:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-05T19:34:07.333-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Paul.</title><summary type='text'>Paul isn't his real name, I'll tell you, but I've wanted to write more about him for a long time now. There are a few things I've wanted to write about for a long time now, but I've really not the time.So, Paul. We met at, you got it, a bath house. I saw him not five minutes after I got there and started to follow him throughout. Eventually, we met up in a dark room on the lower level, he told </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108647838953705704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108647838953705704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/paul.html' title='Paul.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108641179325784251</id><published>2004-06-05T00:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-05T01:03:13.256-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonder who he's talking about?</title><summary type='text'>...a blog keeps showing up around the net. Gay bloggers seem to be supporting it by linking to it. I refuse to link to it, but I do visit. It’s a tragic blog. He has linked to me a few times (he has problems with my robust grammar)…but I will not be linking in return. He cannot be reasoned with and should be left alone. We should leave him alone. ..."What gets me here is the tragedy part. I will </summary><link rel='related' href='http://hoshaw.typepad.com/hoshaw/2004/06/why_blog.html' title='Wonder who he&apos;s talking about?'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108641179325784251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108641179325784251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/wonder-who-hes-talking-about.html' title='Wonder who he&apos;s talking about?'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108640864361509558</id><published>2004-06-05T00:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-05T00:12:28.536-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why do I miss it?</title><summary type='text'>I find myself nostalgic for this bath house I used to frequent in school. Seriously nostalgic. I actually miss the place. I started going there after finding a series of articles online from some guy who frequented a bath house (I suspected it was in Indianapolis, where I was at the time) and wanted to tell the world what it was like.I think it's the music that does it. I hear those techno club</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108640864361509558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108640864361509558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/why-do-i-miss-it.html' title='Why do I miss it?'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108640721448882681</id><published>2004-06-04T23:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-04T23:46:54.486-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't want to think about this.</title><summary type='text'>Which is why I haven't written about it yet. I've had three HIV tests since 2001. They've all been negative, and every time I swear that I'm done having sex with guys. The stress-- waiting for the results is enough to make me want to lie down and die. The week between the test and the results is hell, and I could really beat the hell out of myself for making such stupid, stupid decisions (sorry </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108640721448882681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108640721448882681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/i-dont-want-to-think-about-this.html' title='I don&apos;t want to think about this.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108638954775604111</id><published>2004-06-04T18:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-04T18:52:27.756-04:00</updated><title type='text'>First Amendment.</title><summary type='text'>I'm such a fan of good old number one, as you may know. I hardly believe that anyone, even a court believes that the clear and present danger doctrine is on point in this case, but hey-- I'm not a lawyer (maybe, someday?) As if some of you don't already have enough reason to hate me :-)</summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.redding.com/redd/nw_state_regional/article/0,2232,REDD_17540_2934605,00.html' title='First Amendment.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108638954775604111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108638954775604111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/first-amendment.html' title='First Amendment.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108638896666752324</id><published>2004-06-04T18:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-04T18:42:46.666-04:00</updated><title type='text'>To Brock.</title><summary type='text'>Dude, seriously, one mortal wound at a time, okay? No one knows more about the abuse that I suffered than me. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about it. And it saddens me that you can't connect what happened to me then and what's happened in my life since. It saddens me that you can't see how that could affect a person's psychosexual development. It terrifies me that you believe </summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.haloscan.com/comments.php?user=scatteredwords&amp;comment=108631543073387531#15445' title='To Brock.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108638896666752324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108638896666752324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/to-brock.html' title='To Brock.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108638800729823074</id><published>2004-06-04T17:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-04T18:32:36.023-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What didn't work 5.</title><summary type='text'>This is going to be a tough one for some of you, so bare with me. Hear me out, then fire away (as if you wouldn't anyway)."...it seemed for a time that the answer we were looking for was to accept and embrace our supposedly innate gay identity ... those of us who did so found it to be an exhilarating, freeing experience -- temporarily. ... No longer were we hiding in shame. No longer would we </summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.peoplecanchange.com/What_Didn%27t_Work.htm' title='What didn&apos;t work 5.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108638800729823074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108638800729823074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/what-didnt-work-5.html' title='What didn&apos;t work 5.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108631543073387531</id><published>2004-06-03T22:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-03T22:17:10.733-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it wrong?</title><summary type='text'>This post is going in a different direction than you're all expecting. My question is, is it wrong that when I read things like this, I just smile? I'm not sure why I smile -- maybe because it validates my faith in God all the more, for some strange reason. Maybe it's because there are so many who jump to so many baseless conclusions about my faith and how I got to this point in my life? I don't </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108631543073387531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108631543073387531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/is-it-wrong.html' title='Is it wrong?'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108630802100748513</id><published>2004-06-03T19:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-04T00:50:57.216-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blogosphere.</title><summary type='text'>I've caused my own little bit of ruckus, it seems, with this blog (duh). I remain unapologetic about what I say -- but what's happened / ing isn't lost on me. I noticed this post last night. It amazes me for 1) its sheer length and 2) its introspectiveness."...there was something else that interested me in his journal, a tone of reasonable exploration, a flavor of the spiritual path that </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108630802100748513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108630802100748513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/blogosphere.html' title='The Blogosphere.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108623446294165629</id><published>2004-06-02T23:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-02T23:47:42.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'>1 Corinthians 6 again.</title><summary type='text'>I've posted this before, but I wanted to again. It makes me cry, but-- I just need to hear it. I need to be reminded of it."There's more to sex than mere skin on skin. Sex is as much spiritual mystery as physical fact. As written in Scripture, 'The two become one.' Since we want to become spiritually one with the Master, we must not pursue the kind of sex that avoids commitment and intimacy, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108623446294165629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108623446294165629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/1-corinthians-6-again.html' title='1 Corinthians 6 again.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108623213585196798</id><published>2004-06-02T23:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-02T23:11:30.073-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another thing.</title><summary type='text'>Found this one from my technorati profile:"... Well, I think I've added him for two reasons. One, because he's exactly my age. The other, is because he's trying. He's trying hard. ..."I've found a couple more, actually -- but since they're not in English I'll wait until I figure out what they say. There are the usual "what an idiot" posts out there, too. But I can only post so many of those. I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108623213585196798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108623213585196798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/another-thing.html' title='Another thing.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108623108207801926</id><published>2004-06-02T22:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-02T22:51:22.076-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Last night.</title><summary type='text'>It was hard. I took a nap in the afternoon and I had this dream. You don't need details, I'm sure you can imagine it (if you can't, all the better for you). Point of the story, the desire is still there -- and very strong. I can go and go and go, ignoring it and abstaining, but that doesn't change that it's still there. It's the heart with which I must contend. So much easier said than done.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108623108207801926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108623108207801926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/last-night.html' title='Last night.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108621326127752158</id><published>2004-06-02T17:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-02T17:54:21.276-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What didn't work 4.</title><summary type='text'>Indulging ItAt one time, many of us were convinced that indulging our desires for homosexual expression was the only way to satisfy them and get relief from constant yearning for male attention and affection. And in fact it did bring relief -- momentarily. But those of us who did indulge those desires often found that, when the fleeting embrace or erotic experience was over, we felt more lonely </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108621326127752158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108621326127752158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/what-didnt-work-4.html' title='What didn&apos;t work 4.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108614743857625154</id><published>2004-06-01T23:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-01T23:37:18.576-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What didn't work 3.</title><summary type='text'>This one's kinda long, and it doesn't apply a whole lot to me. My prayer life is probably the most lapse part of my faith. Not that I don't pray -- I just don't seem to have that consistent everyday same time same place kinda prayer life everyone seems to be telling me that I should have. So, I'v never tried to pray my gay away.But I need all the "fuel" I can get. Trying to Pray It Away </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108614743857625154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108614743857625154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/what-didnt-work-3.html' title='What didn&apos;t work 3.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108611688165637030</id><published>2004-06-01T15:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-01T15:08:01.656-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And...</title><summary type='text'>I'm not Catholic, not that I'm really offended by the idea -- but why is everyone else allowed to be wrong and I'm not? Want mustard with those daisies?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108611688165637030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108611688165637030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/and.html' title='And...'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108611645598413747</id><published>2004-06-01T14:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T09:04:51.583-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I've never said.</title><summary type='text'>Or if I did, I didn't mean to. Setting the record straight:*I've never said that all gay men were abused as children. I was, and I'd be a fool to ignore the role that has played in my spiritual/emotional/sexual development.*I've never said that I hated myself. I don't. I really really don't. I hate some of the things I've done. I hate some of the things that've been done to me.*I've never </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108611645598413747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108611645598413747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/things-ive-never-said.html' title='Things I&apos;ve never said.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108611570212532453</id><published>2004-06-01T14:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-01T14:48:22.126-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What didn't work 2.</title><summary type='text'>Using WillpowerWe certainly never consciously chose to be sexually attracted to men. Neither could we simple choose to change and be attracted to women instead. At best, willpower could only help us resist the urge to indulge whatever sexual desire we felt in the moment. It could not bring long-term healing.Rather than work on our will, or our mental control, we found it much more effective to</summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.peoplecanchange.com/What_Didn%27t_Work.htm' title='What didn&apos;t work 2.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108611570212532453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108611570212532453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/what-didnt-work-2.html' title='What didn&apos;t work 2.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108609785248005064</id><published>2004-06-01T09:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-01T15:01:49.010-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Illiterate.</title><summary type='text'>I need to learn more languages. I've found this site, which I think is in French and this one which I believe to be Dutch. There's that one in Estonian, too -- and someone commented here in Porteguese once or twice. I kinda like knowing what's being said, but I never really took into consideration the whole language barrier thing. I've gotten hits from almost 30 different countries so far.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108609785248005064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108609785248005064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/illiterate.html' title='Illiterate.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108609645094962192</id><published>2004-06-01T09:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-01T09:27:30.950-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What didn't work.</title><summary type='text'>One reader introduced me to this this site. They've got a whole page about, what didn't work -- and I thought I'd go through each of them as I've seen them in my life. Here's the first:Denying or Suppressing ItPretending there was nothing amiss in our lives was like ignoring a growing tumor. Refusing to deal with our homosexual problems ensured that they would continue to thrive and multiply. </summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.peoplecanchange.com/What_Didn%27t_Work.htm' title='What didn&apos;t work.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108609645094962192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108609645094962192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/06/what-didnt-work.html' title='What didn&apos;t work.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108605349568550209</id><published>2004-05-31T21:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-31T21:31:35.686-04:00</updated><title type='text'>100 entries, 31 days, no sex.</title><summary type='text'>A mini milestone, I guess. It's been overwhelmingly easy, so far (knock on wood). Not that I can report a whole lot of change, really (other than the easy part -- it's usually really, really hard). It's been a good trip, and I look forward to the next 100 and the next month. Here we go. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108605349568550209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108605349568550209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/100-entries-31-days-no-sex.html' title='100 entries, 31 days, no sex.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108605218671927245</id><published>2004-05-31T20:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-31T21:09:46.720-04:00</updated><title type='text'>More I don't agree with.</title><summary type='text'>Normally, I'd let this go -- but it's getting so much attention."Whether it is genetic or whether something occurs during a critical time of fetal development, I don't know. I can only tell you with an absolute certainty that it is inborn."I wish I could be that certain about things in my life. Inborn? Absolute certainty? What have all the scientists around the world been missing? She's got </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108605218671927245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108605218671927245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/more-i-dont-agree-with.html' title='More I don&apos;t agree with.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108605096367201795</id><published>2004-05-31T20:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-31T20:49:23.673-04:00</updated><title type='text'>More speculation.</title><summary type='text'>I've been reading more and more about "myself" and the idea that I might not be real. It's curious, 'cause of all the possible reactions I anticipated to my blog, this wasn't one of them. And I'm usually pretty good at forseeing that stuff.It reminds me of what the author of Hot Abercrombie Chick went through on her / his blog a while back. Apparently no one thought she was real (or at least if</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108605096367201795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108605096367201795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/more-speculation.html' title='More speculation.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108605027350413954</id><published>2004-05-31T20:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-31T20:37:53.503-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Manhood.</title><summary type='text'>"Manhood is a sustained act of character. It is no easier to become a man than it is to become virtuous."From a comment left by a reader (who was quoting something else). It's a point well taken; definitely not something that's lost on me.Then I flashed back to one of Brock's comments, that linked to this article. She makes a point about choice that resonates with me in some ways. If </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108605027350413954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108605027350413954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/manhood.html' title='Manhood.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108602240164447624</id><published>2004-05-31T12:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-31T17:49:04.883-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Terry Mattingly.</title><summary type='text'>I found his blog thanks to the guys over at Gay Spirituality. I met Terry once, he came to my school and spoke on God, VanHalen and something else that I can't remember. His basic premise was how the church was unsupportive of its young people being called into "non-ministry" positions like journalism -- if there is such a thing as a non-ministry job for a Christian.On a weirder note, I can no </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108602240164447624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108602240164447624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/terry-mattingly.html' title='Terry Mattingly.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108597937825917200</id><published>2004-05-31T00:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-31T01:04:44.620-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tell her how you feel.</title><summary type='text'>Was watching a movie tonight (two in three days, I'm on a roll), and one of the characters told another character to "tell her how you feel..." It made me think.I want to have feelings to tell somebody about someday. It ticks me off that it's first nature to so many guys -- and they don't realize what they have. This is hard to explain, what I'm feeling. Kinda like I'm trapped in a straight </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108597937825917200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108597937825917200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/tell-her-how-you-feel.html' title='Tell her how you feel.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108588189687225655</id><published>2004-05-29T21:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-29T21:51:36.873-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Typical?</title><summary type='text'>Maybe. I just read an interview with director Brian Dannelly (I won't say where I was reading it -- cause it's a magazine that I'm sure some wouldn't approve of, though I went specifically for this interview) and he mentioned the first time he ever had sex with a guy was at Christian school. It actually made me laugh -- I don't know why. It just seemed logical for some reason. He did mention one </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108588189687225655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108588189687225655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/typical.html' title='Typical?'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108588037894365329</id><published>2004-05-29T21:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-29T21:26:18.943-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting.</title><summary type='text'>I guess this guy and I couldn't be more opposite, but I see why he went through so much to hid his identity. More amazing to me are the people who made him their mission in life. To each his own. And I mean that.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108588037894365329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108588037894365329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/interesting_29.html' title='Interesting.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108587868000526922</id><published>2004-05-29T20:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-29T21:18:50.930-04:00</updated><title type='text'>More.</title><summary type='text'>I promised I'd write about this when I had more time to think it over. I still think that Joe is one of the most level-headed dissenters (from my opinion) that's frequented here so far. I wish that said more about him, because I like his post so much, but many naysayers here have been so beligerant, arrogant and rude -- it's just not the high praise for Joe that it should be. Anyway, one paragrah</summary><link rel='related' href='http://gayspirituality.typepad.com/blog/2004/05/what_i_dont_kno.html' title='More.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108587868000526922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108587868000526922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/more.html' title='More.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108587638833562309</id><published>2004-05-29T20:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-29T20:19:48.336-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Red Line.</title><summary type='text'>I live pretty much on top of a red line metro stop -- so I have to take it to get pretty much anywhere. I don't mind, it's a nice time to read / rest / whatever. Over the past two months or so, I've noticed this youngguy who always gets on / off at Union Station. I go there frequently myself, wanting to be around people and all and being in love with the food court. Anyway, he smiles at me a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108587638833562309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108587638833562309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/red-line.html' title='The Red Line.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108586986789582624</id><published>2004-05-29T18:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-29T18:31:07.896-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sigh.</title><summary type='text'>I'm supposed to go to this mother/daughter father/son banquet at my church. I'd rather shoot myself in the head. I've been dreading it for a while now. I'm late so I gotta jet, but more to come later, I promise.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108586986789582624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108586986789582624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/sigh.html' title='Sigh.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-10858446082250355</id><published>2004-05-29T11:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-29T11:41:23.223-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Masculinity.</title><summary type='text'>There's been some backlash about one of my statements below, in regard to masculinity. Some cite examples of Sparta (whose armies had built-in homosexual behavior as part of their training regime) and gay men they know who are "more masculine" than any straight guys.Lets forget for the moment that some gays -- so insecure and so lacking in real masculinity -- develop a hyper-maleness in order </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/10858446082250355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/10858446082250355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/masculinity.html' title='Masculinity.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108580129391965722</id><published>2004-05-28T23:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-28T23:30:38.523-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Quiet.</title><summary type='text'>It's quiet in here tonight, for the first time in a while. That's a good thing, I think. I went to the drive-in tonight (a rare treat in the DC Metro area). All I could think of though, was the last time I was at the drive-in. With a guy. Whom I'd just met. We didn't see much of the movie.Sense memory is really powerful. I'm starting to come to terms with the idea that these images and memories</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108580129391965722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108580129391965722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/quiet.html' title='Quiet.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108575423961102565</id><published>2004-05-28T10:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-28T10:23:59.613-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wild at Heart.</title><summary type='text'>I appreciate all the advice on books to read. Wild at Heart is more apt to my situation (and most gay guys) than most of you know. Many of us are so lacking in basic masculine qualities -- Eldredge's approach and thougts are particularly appropriate. Besides, I met John a while back (drove him to the airport when he spoke at my school) and I think some of you are missing his point -- and his </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108575423961102565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108575423961102565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/wild-at-heart.html' title='Wild at Heart.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108575352208491384</id><published>2004-05-28T10:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-28T10:12:26.310-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I've noticed.</title><summary type='text'>A few more blogs out there, such as David:"i really appreciate him and his attitude: honest, vulnerable, and obedient. very transparent, and intelligent as well. he presents his struggles in a very coherent light, and he has the best method for responding to nay-sayers ive seen in a while. although, as is typical, his comments get overrun by people having arguments rather than addressing him </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108575352208491384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108575352208491384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/ive-noticed.html' title='I&apos;ve noticed.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108568264258746091</id><published>2004-05-27T14:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T14:33:41.166-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Man's Battle.</title><summary type='text'>I like girls in suits. I don't know why. I noticed that at work yesterday -- and it caught me completely off guard. I actually noticed that a while back when I was working in government (briefly, but everyone wore suits), but still -- it's rare that I'm attracted to anything but a girl's personality. I guess that's not a real bad thing. At least that's what the guys who wrote Every Man's Battle </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108568264258746091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108568264258746091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/every-mans-battle.html' title='Every Man&apos;s Battle.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108562567615858027</id><published>2004-05-26T22:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T14:32:51.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Slut.</title><summary type='text'>I have no problem with being called that. I can hardly disagree -- I can't even begin to count the number of guys I've had sex with (I can count the ones whose first names I've known, on one hand).Anyway, how do you really feel, Steve?"Basically, he's an obnoxious little slut who's suddenly realised that sex does not equal love. So he turns to a convenient source of happy-clappy twats who </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108562567615858027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108562567615858027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/slut.html' title='Slut.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108562489174919792</id><published>2004-05-26T22:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-26T22:35:28.490-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm fake.</title><summary type='text'>God I wish that were true. I wish I were making all this up. I wish that I weren't damaged, broken, incomplete, insecure, -- in pain. I wish that I was never abused, that I was never introduced to sex at the age of six or seven. I wish that my childhood wasn't ripped away from me, that I could've had the chance to grow up like the extreme majority of boys do, into the men God destined them to be.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108562489174919792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108562489174919792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/im-fake.html' title='I&apos;m fake.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108562349158494782</id><published>2004-05-26T22:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-26T22:04:51.583-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Slander.</title><summary type='text'>It really does have an answer for everything, I guess:"But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander."Nothing more</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108562349158494782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108562349158494782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/slander.html' title='Slander.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108561110782832087</id><published>2004-05-26T18:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-26T18:38:27.826-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Alan.</title><summary type='text'>Take a look at Alan's blog, Executive Director of Exodus International. Good guy :-)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108561110782832087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108561110782832087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/alan.html' title='Alan.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108561064994248440</id><published>2004-05-26T18:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-26T18:33:34.183-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotional Dependency.</title><summary type='text'>When I first visited Living Hope, I read an article on their forums that almost made me cry. I'd been seeing a counselor, and constantly described to him what could only be an emotionally dependent relationship with another guy on campus, but he could never label it or tell me what was wrong. He could never tell me why a relationship that brought me so much joy also brought me so much pain.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108561064994248440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108561064994248440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/emotional-dependency.html' title='Emotional Dependency.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108559974460783826</id><published>2004-05-26T15:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-26T15:29:21.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Understatement.</title><summary type='text'>"This is apt to be an epic struggle for him - his prior lifestyle weighs heavily on him and invades his thoughts." :: The Mighty BarristerIf he knew how how how true that statement is.Anyway, today was a much, much better day than yesterday. I have church tonight, and I plan on taking a nap before then, so this'll be brief for now.I keep getting these advertisements for gay porn and gay </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108559974460783826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108559974460783826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/understatement.html' title='Understatement.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108553909484716860</id><published>2004-05-25T22:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-25T22:40:06.530-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dupont Circle.</title><summary type='text'>An old hang out I need to give up. For those of you unfamiliar, it's DC's gay mecca. Normally, I go there because I'm lonely, and there's usually lots of people around on the street. Oh yeah, there's also lots of gay guys who check me out and artifically up my self-worth or something like that.I used to hang out at JR's a lot -- a gay bar just off Q street (and down from the circle). Or rather,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108553909484716860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108553909484716860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/dupont-circle.html' title='Dupont Circle.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108552655396356774</id><published>2004-05-25T19:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-25T19:09:13.963-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Therapy.</title><summary type='text'>I've gotten a couple e-mails from people suggesting therapists in the area, etc. I appreciate it, and I don't discount the need that I'll have to eventually go back into therapy (I saw a counselor for more than a year, and never told him I was gay -- we talked more about other things, that at the time were more pressing [if you can believe it]).But the honest truth is, I can't afford it right </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108552655396356774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108552655396356774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/therapy.html' title='Therapy.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108552426074135233</id><published>2004-05-25T18:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-25T18:31:00.740-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Strong.</title><summary type='text'>The temptations (I don't have a better word for it) around me are strong right now. Last year, after about six months of no sex, I gave it all up because of something stupid in my personal life that made me feel bad. Instead of turning to God -- I ran to my drug and destroyed the best six months of my life.I think that's what's happening now. I've had a stupid day, so I'm more drawn to drown </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108552426074135233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108552426074135233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/strong.html' title='Strong.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108552249587423794</id><published>2004-05-25T17:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-25T18:52:47.343-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><summary type='text'>Steve left us here, but he still lets everyone know what he thinks. Again, over at the Naked Blog:"...I question his sentiment - why bother putting this up in the public domain if not for personal vanity and oh gosh, maybe if just one other poor man struggling with homosexual attraction sees my words and finds strength from them, then maybe god will be pleased..."Aside from ignoring the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108552249587423794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108552249587423794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108551191216525280</id><published>2004-05-25T15:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-25T15:05:12.166-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Long day.</title><summary type='text'>Not much to report right now. Well, lots, actually. But I've had a pretty bad day (work) -- I'm tired and just want to sleep for a while. I've found, that when all else fails, going unconscious for a few hours is a nice escape. Be back soon.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108551191216525280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108551191216525280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/long-day.html' title='Long day.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108545333088464258</id><published>2004-05-24T22:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T22:48:50.883-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lots to digest.</title><summary type='text'>Thanks to Joe for perhaps one of the most thoughtful responses I've seen from someone who probably doesn't agree with me. There's a lot (a lot) in there, so this is all I'm going to say for now. I want time to take it in and see what I think.</summary><link rel='related' href='http://gayspirituality.typepad.com/blog/2004/05/what_i_dont_kno.html' title='Lots to digest.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108545333088464258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108545333088464258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/lots-to-digest.html' title='Lots to digest.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108545163936844341</id><published>2004-05-24T22:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T22:20:39.366-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't really agree.</title><summary type='text'>This post, from elcaminoreal.blog-city.com misses a big part of one of the most blessed things God's given us: each other."knowledge of homosexual temptations is a serious impediment to same-sex friendships. By self-identifying as someone with SSA, a person is severely limiting prospects for friendship with heterosexuals. Deep and lasting friendships do not require that one ever discuss what is</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108545163936844341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108545163936844341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/i-cant-really-agree.html' title='I can&apos;t really agree.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108544327811166662</id><published>2004-05-24T19:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T20:01:18.110-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How?</title><summary type='text'>I can't even watch Fear Factor anymore. Tell me, how, just how do they cast so, so many guys with perfect chests / abs / muscles? Is it a requirement? </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108544327811166662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108544327811166662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/how.html' title='How?'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108543042260734989</id><published>2004-05-24T16:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T16:27:02.606-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fantasy.</title><summary type='text'>How do we really take every thought captive? I can't. Maybe it goes back to that will power thing, but I close my eyes and I see guys. Sex. Guys I've been with, guys I liked, the bath houses I've been in, the clubs. And the fantasies. I do fight it for a while (all around two seconds). Then I indulge. Heartily. Funny thing is, they're sometimes straight fantasies, but mostly not.It's hard, when</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108543042260734989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108543042260734989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/fantasy.html' title='Fantasy.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108542878856331785</id><published>2004-05-24T15:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T15:59:48.563-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't recall.</title><summary type='text'>Saying anything like this:"This guy claims homosexuality is killing him."But maybe I did and just don't remember. If I did -- I don't so much think I meant "physical" death (though it's a possibility when you think of it).</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108542878856331785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108542878856331785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/i-dont-recall.html' title='I don&apos;t recall.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108542798074164714</id><published>2004-05-24T15:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T15:56:20.146-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Bible.</title><summary type='text'>I was going to post a big long "why you should believe what the Bible says" post -- but, I've changed my mind. Lee Strobel, a hardcore investigative journalist, does a much better job of examing the Bible in The Case for Christ. I challenge every one of you to read that book. Trust me. Just read it. He asks all the questions of experts that most of you are throwing out here, and he gets real </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108542798074164714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108542798074164714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/bible.html' title='The Bible.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108540326050193461</id><published>2004-05-24T08:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T08:54:20.500-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally.</title><summary type='text'>From the Naked Blog (no pun or anything intended there, I think):"He says what most queens never dare quite face up to, except in the dark, drugged corners of their backrooms and brains. That much homosexual behaviour is shockingly, shatteringly different, more promiscuous, more demeaning, than the hetero."As much as I really don't require this kind of validation -- we'll it's still nice. The </summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.nakedblog.com/2004_05_01_archive.php#108539380473337072' title='Finally.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108540326050193461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108540326050193461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/finally.html' title='Finally.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108536984712594691</id><published>2004-05-23T23:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-23T23:37:27.126-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrong or right?</title><summary type='text'>Who really cares? At least not me, not right now. Right or wrong was never the point, and believe me or don't, but it was never even part of the journey for me.Moral implications aside -- there are other problems with homosexuality that I can't bring myself to live with. My "Design" post deals with some of that. Sexual addiction is a big problem. The promiscuity is another (and you can't tell </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108536984712594691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108536984712594691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/wrong-or-right.html' title='Wrong or right?'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108534530577879584</id><published>2004-05-23T16:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-23T17:05:37.260-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Paralyzed.</title><summary type='text'>No more. I read Alan Medinger's book, Growth Into Manhood a while ago, and just recently have picked up again. The things he said really resonated with me, and I wanted to go through it again.  Here's a good quote:"Although a man may hate his homosexuality with all of his heart and mind, at the same time, there are ways in which he loves it. For many of us, homosexual acting out was for years </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108534530577879584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108534530577879584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/paralyzed.html' title='Paralyzed.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108534495438341032</id><published>2004-05-23T15:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T16:04:57.620-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Design.</title><summary type='text'>For sex (and maleness). God's. It's funny how so uncomplicated it is, yet we, in our amazing capacity as beings of free will (aka, stupidity), manage to screw it up beyond all reason.His image. Male and female. He created us. Adam from the dust, Eve from Adam. They were perfect, they were good (and amazingly, God created no same-sex partners for his good, perfect creations). If Bible-believing </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108534495438341032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108534495438341032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/design.html' title='The Design.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108534140189192182</id><published>2004-05-23T15:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-23T15:43:21.890-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Confused.</title><summary type='text'>Anyone speak whatever language this is?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108534140189192182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108534140189192182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/confused.html' title='Confused.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108526348146226556</id><published>2004-05-22T18:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T18:04:41.463-04:00</updated><title type='text'>This is perfect.</title><summary type='text'>Olli explains how I feel about my faith perfectly. His words are eloquent, simple even. They're perfect.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108526348146226556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108526348146226556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/this-is-perfect.html' title='This is perfect.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108526072051492620</id><published>2004-05-22T17:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T17:18:40.516-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Porn.</title><summary type='text'>Tony again raises an issue that makes me think. I'll admitt -- it is a problem for me. And I'm probably using it now to medicate my recent "departure" from a sex-filled lifestyle (maybe that's why the past two weeks haven't been so bad, a false sense of security?).Places like xxxchurch.com have well documented it's destructiveness to the person and particularly marital relationships. I think </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108526072051492620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108526072051492620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/porn.html' title='Porn.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108525492712222115</id><published>2004-05-22T15:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-23T16:52:57.116-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Scattered Words.</title><summary type='text'>I've gotten one or two e-mails asking about the name for the site. It's inspired by Jeremy Camp, his song "I Still Believe" on Stay. I heard it for the frist time when I was living in LA, on the Fish (one of the best Christian radio stations out there, but that's not saying a whole lot).Here's one of the verses. It speaks to me, a lot:Scattered words and empty thoughts seem to pour from my </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108525492712222115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108525492712222115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/scattered-words.html' title='Scattered Words.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108524695718633039</id><published>2004-05-22T13:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T13:29:17.186-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So it begins.</title><summary type='text'>I think the fallout will suprise a lot of people. Here's the first step.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108524695718633039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108524695718633039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/so-it-begins.html' title='So it begins.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108524639735588816</id><published>2004-05-22T13:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T13:19:57.356-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Two's Company.</title><summary type='text'>Found David's blog from a nice link on the Blogs4god homepage. He's a man after my own heart. Hope springs eternal, I guess. I hope some of you will be nicer to him than you've been to me.</summary><link rel='related' href='http://davidmorrison.typepad.com/sed_contra/' title='Two&apos;s Company.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108524639735588816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108524639735588816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/twos-company.html' title='Two&apos;s Company.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108523806080326608</id><published>2004-05-22T10:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T16:28:42.736-04:00</updated><title type='text'>More questions.</title><summary type='text'>From the Battle for Normality. Well, actually only one question.35. Have you ever had erotic feelings toward or infatuations for someone of the oppostie sex?Well, yeah. I don't know how much was really erotic, but probably more infatuation. Some of it was definitely erotic. I've had girlfriends in both high school and college. I find (and am finding more and more) some woman attractive. But </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108523806080326608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108523806080326608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/more-questions.html' title='More questions.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108520306997535097</id><published>2004-05-22T01:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T01:17:49.976-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Identification.</title><summary type='text'>At work tonight, I kept thinking about what it means to be gay and wether that's something I should continue to identify myself as (not that I do so publicly anyway, just in my own head). In an abuse situation, most survivors are encouraged to think of themselves as such for only as long as its necessary. The abuse didn't / doesn't define them (though it may have played a big part in their </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108520306997535097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108520306997535097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/identification.html' title='Identification.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108519914228270275</id><published>2004-05-21T23:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T00:13:51.426-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Interesting.</title><summary type='text'>I'd like to read his whole paper, sort of. But those last couple paragraphs drove me crazy with all the additional dashes and commas and such. At any rate, he seems to have some deep thoughts on the subject at hand.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108519914228270275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108519914228270275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/interesting.html' title='Interesting.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108516408071136163</id><published>2004-05-21T14:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-21T14:28:00.713-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Visitors.</title><summary type='text'>For that past couple of weeks I've been receiving regular visits from a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses. Man they drive me crazy. How do you say go away and don't come back nicely? It's cool -- they're so devoted and everything, but since I work from home they're taking time away from work. Plus they're completely nuts.As I sat there, listening to her pull verses out of context with no regard to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108516408071136163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108516408071136163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/visitors.html' title='Visitors.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108514912241910727</id><published>2004-05-21T10:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-21T10:18:42.420-04:00</updated><title type='text'>2 weeks 2 day.</title><summary type='text'>No sex. It's not the longest I've ever gone, but it's the longest I've gone in a long, long time. And to be honest, it hasn't been at all that bad. Not as bad as it could've been. True, there were times when I almost gave up (and with little pressure, tells you something about me). It's a good milestone for me. One step at a time. One day at a time.For now, I have to clean my room, get some </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108514912241910727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108514912241910727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/2-weeks-2-day.html' title='2 weeks 2 day.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108509509317283696</id><published>2004-05-20T18:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-20T19:26:31.726-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Traitor.</title><summary type='text'>That's me. For a while today, as I read, I got really discouraged. Brock seems to think I'm destroying the world and should probably be court martialed (sp?) for ripping the "I'm a queer" bumper sticker of my car. Apparently I "infuriate" this guy. There are many others.The point: I won't be spending so much time here defending myself. It's useless. As I've said before -- you're really not </summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.haloscan.com/comments.php?user=scatteredwords&amp;comment=108491269220520017#9536' title='Traitor.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108509509317283696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108509509317283696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/traitor.html' title='Traitor.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108506291309920784</id><published>2004-05-20T10:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-20T10:27:20.903-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Makes me smile.</title><summary type='text'>Why do I get such a kick out of reading about myself?"This is one of those blogs that I just have to read because it's so inutterably sad that someone so young is unable to have faith in themself, and has to fall back on what an old book of dubious origin dictates."It's funny ... I don't feel so young. I feel like I've been an adult since I was six years old.</summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.dustbinman.com/archives/000724.html' title='Makes me smile.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108506291309920784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108506291309920784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/makes-me-smile.html' title='Makes me smile.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108505814932039519</id><published>2004-05-20T09:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-20T10:15:50.190-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Attack on gay marriage.</title><summary type='text'>If you want to see a site on the offensive, take a look at this one. This is Eve's personal blog (I think).UPDATE: \Of*fen"sive\, n.The state or posture of one who makes attack;aggressive attitude; the act of the attacking party; --opposed to {defensive}.{To act on the offensive}, to be the attacking party.Just so we're all clear. Words in my mouth that aren't my own. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108505814932039519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108505814932039519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/attack-on-gay-marriage.html' title='Attack on gay marriage.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108505619746914474</id><published>2004-05-20T08:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-20T08:30:30.480-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking too much.</title><summary type='text'>That passage from 1 Corinthians has really been on my mind lately. The fact that I will never have that "oneness" with my possible future wife (at least not in the way God intended) is kind of sobering. And what does it mean, exactly -- to committ a sin against your own body? I know, I think, but I don't really understand, ya know? It's weird.I often think about how different my life could've </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108505619746914474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108505619746914474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/thinking-too-much.html' title='Thinking too much.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108501251048143977</id><published>2004-05-19T20:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-19T20:23:12.696-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fox Puts Foot in Its Mouth (surprise)</title><summary type='text'>I agree with the "what the hell are they thinking?" questions. Read this.</summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A25870-2004May13.html' title='Fox Puts Foot in Its Mouth (surprise)'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108501251048143977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108501251048143977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/fox-puts-foot-in-its-mouth-surprise.html' title='Fox Puts Foot in Its Mouth (surprise)'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108500700836332785</id><published>2004-05-19T18:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-19T18:50:08.363-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not quite.</title><summary type='text'>One of the comments from the blog I linked to below:"the sort of fulfillment this guy sounds like he's looking for is the sort that comes from a loving and comitted relationship."I don't know if this will ever happen. I may never get married -- I may never have another girlfriend (I've had a few, gasp) -- but it's not the point. Lots of people are perfectly content to never have these things (</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108500700836332785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108500700836332785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/not-quite.html' title='Not quite.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108500483457186658</id><published>2004-05-19T18:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-19T18:16:49.906-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Natural selection.</title><summary type='text'>A good article from Exodus. I hop over there to read every now and then. This one was written by Alan Medinger, the same guy who wrote Growth Into Manhood (look to the right).This page has a lot of good articles, along the same lines as the one above.</summary><link rel='related' href='http://www.exodus-international.org/library_Society_02.shtml' title='Natural selection.'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108500483457186658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108500483457186658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/natural-selection.html' title='Natural selection.'/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6877628.post-108500038511812852</id><published>2004-05-19T16:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-19T22:08:05.233-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Genetically predisposed. </title><summary type='text'>So what? I hear this argument so, so, so much. What if there is a gay gene? There's a cystic fibrosis gene, too. Doesn't mean its normal or okay or that we shouldn't try to fix it. Biological causation is not validation.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108500038511812852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6877628/posts/default/108500038511812852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scattered-words.blogspot.com/2004/05/genetically-predisposed.html' title='Genetically predisposed. '/><author><name>Ben</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16832928814642303749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://fifteen-minutes.net/scatteredwords/sw1.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
