i often wonder what it is about these points in time that moves us so. anniversaries, birthdays, weddings, graduations, rites of passage. is it a connection to the cosmic? a nod to our place in the grand scheme? circle of life? for me, it seems we are all so busy living that we need a reminder to stop and take stock of where we've been and where we're going. such markers provide us that opportunity. this break has offered me the freedom to consider what is that *I* want next, just when i would naturally have stopped to ruminate on my life. it seems that things really do happen for a reason.

oddly, you might think, given how things have turned out, i don't regret moving to chicago. i am not the same person i was twelve months ago, full of expectations, pictures in my mind of how my life was supposed to be. life has thrown me some pretty serious curve balls in the last year, and i've managed to score a couple of base hits. i've yet to hit one out of the park, but i'm less concerned about that these days. i'm not a failure if i don't hit a home run every time at bat. (i cannot believe that i am actually using sports metaphors. i truly have been living too close to wrigley for too long. it is seeping into my subconscious.)

why did i move to the midwest? what was i looking for? two words: middle ground. what do i mean by middle ground? i suppose a lot of things. mostly, i guess the freedom to be a contradiction, to make my own choices unapologetically and unburdened by labels, categories, or designations.

my life has always been that contradiction in terms. i was that kid in high school that didn't quite fit into one group, but, one way or another, seemed to have ties to all of them. the brains, the jocks, the nerds, the populars, the hessians. i never felt included, yet never really felt excluded.

years later, living in san francisco, there seemed to be a place for everyone. IF you subscribed to a narrowly-defined set of subcultural norms. i can't tell you the number of times friends would suggest introducing me to an acquaintance, only to retract with an "oh wait, he only likes latino tops between 22 and 27" or "actually he's only into leather bear bottoms in their forties". in a city where 1 in 3 folks are gay/lesbian/bi/transgendered/etc, such limited proclivites could be supported and i suppose still are.

once, i actually got into an argument with an acquaintance who attempted to convince me, contrary to my own assertions, that i too had a "type" and that i was just as attached to this "type" as the folks that i criticized. that my own wants and desires were as narrow as everyone else's. that, in effect, i was a complete hypocrite. you can imagine my frustration. i couldn't fit what i was about into a little box and i was sick of feeling like i was a freak for not wanting to.

in the year prior to my move to chicago, all i seemed to meet were midwesterners. iowa, illinois, indiana, ohio, michigan, minnesota. to a man, they appreciated my individuality, my unwillingness to categorize myself away, my MEness. i started to wonder if there was something about that part of the world that i had overlooked. what i failed to consider was that each and every one of them had left.

last week, in an attempt to seek out that middle ground, i attended a screening of a documentary about the 1982 chicago pride parade which had been protested by neo-nazis, which was being presented by queer space, a weekly meeting for radical queers. yes, that's right, radical queers. after years of not being quite progressive enough, simply by virtue of my questioning of mainstream gay culture, i had become a radical firebrand. what a difference a year and several thousand miles makes.

the video itself could hardly be called a documentary. it lasted only 12 minutes and lacked any narration. it was more like someone's home movie. but what a revelation. it served as a vivid reminder of what the pride parade used to be: a political march for liberation. and a stark contrast to what it is today: will & grace hosting the tournament of roses, sponsored by at&t and budweiser.

but, what really stuck was the discussion after. how refreshing to see women and people of color. how encouraging to engage in spirited, intelligent discussion regarding the current state of queer culture. (at one point, this hip-ass black lesbian next to me uttered the phrases "matrixed identity", "multiple marginalities" and "double indemnity", all in under a minute. in san francisco, i might have rolled my eyes. that night, SHE rocked my face.) how disappointing to realize that there is no queer alternative here. that the things i had taken for granted in san francisco barely exist hereabouts. and the struggle to create them is on-going.

middle ground doesn't appear to occur naturally here. things are black or white, straight or gay, in or out. you either join 'em or you join 'em. beating 'em? well, i'm not so sure that's an option. to claim that middle ground here requires a constant assertion of self, something that is, quite frankly, exhausting.

in the past several weeks, i've come to the conclusion that the middle ground isn't necessarily a physical place. it is a state of mind. and that those san franciscans that i criticized for toeing the subcultural line were simply claiming their own middle ground. i guess what i'm trying to say is that i've made some peace with my past. and my present. and strangely, i find myself in exactly the same place i was a year ago. hopeful and excited. for my future.