I worked in HIV prevention for almost 10 years before getting into the web world. The AIDS walk, the AIDS ride – the underlying message and reason for it all – still gets me every time. (Seriously, I’m a big ol’ mess.)

Enjoy the cute boys!

So very true.

Over time.

Equilibrium is reached. Granted, more often than not it’s a dynamic equilibrium, but equilibrium nevertheless.

Passions develop over time and deepening occurs.

Cultivated by those who we choose to surround ourselves with, by getting us to look at what we’re doing and our true motivations.

via 3″ Heels & the Search for Spirituality: Part..

This refers to the governor on a steam engine. Two heavy balls are attached to the engine so that as engine speed increases, the centrifugal force of the flywheel causes the balls to rise. As the balls top out, they govern (limit) the engine, thereby controlling maximum engine speed. “Balls out,” then, refers to running the engine at maximum speed. [urban dictionary]

Special thanks to FITBOMB for alerting me to my misconception.

The purpose of school is to make present-oriented little beasts and make them more future-oriented.

Just one of many funny, on-point comments in this brilliant time-lapse whiteboard presentation on time perspective.

It is SO worth the 10 minutes and 9 seconds of your life to watch.

[via Daria Steigman, @dariasteigman]

Me and Liv, 11th grade

My friend Jessica (a middle school teacher) shared some thoughts on Facebook about bullying:

… There are 100 adults on campus whose job it is to ensure student safety. Kids have to advocate and say, “Hey, this makes me uncomfortable…I don’t like how this is going…”

That’s how you protect your kids from sex predators, right? The parent says, if someone does this or says this, you speak up. You don’t take this from anyone.

If someone stole my car, I’d call the police. I wouldn’t just start walking to work.

As anyone who knows me will say – I’m not a shy person. I am not afraid to speak up.  I will tell you exactly what I think. About just about anything. But when I got relentlessly teased in middle school for being gay (I didn’t even know I was gay in middle school), I didn’t tell anyone.

Telling would have invited the inevitable question – Are you gay? And I just wasn’t prepared to answer that at 11, 12 or 13 years old. I waited until 15.

And when I did come out, nobody was surprised. I had great friends. A great support system. One of my closest friends, Liv, responded with what amounted to something like DUH. She and I started a Gay/Straight Alliance at Lincoln.

I’d have been grateful to have a 6th grade teacher like Jessica. But even if I did, I’m not sure I’d have been able to make myself knock on her door for help.

I do agree that we need to teach kids to speak up – to not be afraid to say someone’s hurting them, physically, verbally, sexually, or otherwise.

And I like Jessica’s walking to work analogy. I’m just not so sure that my 12 year-old self would have been able to get out of my own way and pick up the phone.

The truth is, I don’t really know.

I started it to get the creative juices flowing. I’ve tried to re-start writing the book, but even though it’s only 80% true, it sometimes feels like a long journal entry. A really long one.

And I’ve tried starting book #2 – but that hasn’t gone so well either.

The truth is, I think my writing sort of stinks when I’m happy. And I’m not willing to trade back for the sake of the word.

So for now, this blog is about trying to be authentic (sounds a little like the cult-ish self-growth program Ruth went through in 6 Feet Under, which we just finished.)  I’m pretty pleased with my life, and so it’s not hard. There’s not much to hide.

I am cognizant that the stuff that ends up here is forever searchable, findable, usable – and so you’re not likely to see a whole lot that I wouldn’t want in those 3 categories.  Other than that, these are the contents of my head.

We’d known each other well for several years prior to becoming an item – and she knew all of the good, bad, and ugly of my most recent relationship.  But I’d not met any of her exes – she’d been flying solo for a good bit of time before moving to Colorado.

A few months in, we did the relationship review. The part where you talk about who you’ve been with and all of the good and not-so-good things things that transpired. You talk about what you learned about yourself and the kind of person you want to be. And the kind of person you want to be with.

That realization – the kind of person you want to be with – it can be hard-fought.

I was a day shy of 30 when Megan and I began our life together. I had no illusions that I was the first person at whom she’d stared adoringly. That she’d never dreamed of white picket fences and a life with someone else. I am not her first love.

In the Chicago airport, returning from Colorado – back to RI, when we were working on the long-distance thing – I found the perfect card.

I don’t need to be your first love, but I want to be your last.

It’s scary to lay your cards on the table, say this is it, I’m all in.

I spent almost 8 years thinking I had both feet in. In reality, I was just standing on one foot. Unbalanced and unsure. My ex was always, as she would say, waiting for the other shoe to drop. In retrospect (which we all know is 20/20), I didn’t put that other foot down, because I wasn’t sure of my footing.

A balancing act teaches you a lot about yourself. About how long you can stand it. About what things you need to maintain that balance. About what things can tip the scales entirely.

Megan tipped my scale. On its head.

It’s been 9 months since we got married. Last Friday, my name change became legal – I’m now, as one friend said – officially hers.  We now have a family name, an arduous but rewarding task.

My cards are on the table. Both feet are in the pool. She is remarkable and I’m thrilled to be her last love.

This post was inspired by my lovely wife Megan, and my friend Erika, who was apparently reading my mind this morning.

My favorite wedding picture

Megan and I got married in August.

She’s a chick and so am I, so we:

1. Had to go to Massachusetts to do the deed (bonus: it made life easier on our friends and families, most of whom are based in New England.)
2. Are only legally married in a handful of states as of this writing (subject to change as the universe does seem to tend toward justice.)
3. Have to have my name legally changed.

My Maiden Name

My name, given at birth, is Elisa Marie DelBonis.  My mother liked the alliteration. I’m named for Elliot, a 3rd or 4th cousin I believe.

As for the term maiden, I’m not so sure how that works out. It’s been many years since I qualified under that umbrella.

Changing My Name

Before we did the deed, Megan and I decided that I’d take her surname. She uses her last name at work, and I wasn’t so attached to mine, so there wasn’t much question about which name would end up our family name.

Changing your name is a pain in the ass. And it’s not cheap.

1. Fingerprints:
   1. Get fingerprinted. 2 copies. I don’t remember exactly, but it was $8-10. Done!
   2. Send one copy to the FBI with a request for a criminal history check. This can take up to 4 months. $18. Done!
   3. Get back your (hopefully) clean criminal history documentation from the FBI. Done!
   4. Send another copy of your fingerprints to the local authorities. In my case, the CBI – Colorado Bureau of Investigation. $16.50 Done!
2. Forms and Court:
   1. Fill out a bunch of forms that you download from the internet. They will probably be different than the versions they have at the clerk’s office, and you’ll have to fill them out all over again. But this makes you more sympathetic to the clerk, who feels badly that their website hasn’t been updated. Done!
   2. File the correct documents, filled out, and pay $120. Not the $90 the website says. See step 2.1 re: updating the website. Done!
   3. Bring your paperwork into the courtroom. There is no clerk in the courtroom. There are a lot of teenagers and their very irritated parents. Stand around and wonder if you’re in the right place. Sit down for a little while. Feel like you’re in trouble. Figure out that this is not only civil court but also truancy court. Listen to the judge yell at a bunch of kids who never show up for school. Done!
   4. Finally figure out that you should go over to the person who is sitting to the right of the judge. Hope you don’t get yelled at for standing out of turn. Hand over paperwork to very nice woman. Done!
   5. Sit and listen as young people address their feet instead of the judge, who tells them to speak up, look up and get their hair out of their eyes. Done!
   6. Get called up to speak to the judge. Tell the judge you’re requesting a name change to that of your partner’s family name. That you’ve been together for 3 years. That you’re not going to do any harm to a minor child by taking this new name. That you’re not trying to evade debtors by taking this new name. That you’re sure to the best of your ability that this name change will not cause harm to other people. Done!
   7. Sweat standing in front of the judge, even though he says he believes you. Done!
3. Publication:
   1. Take your signed documents to the local newspaper and have a change of name notice printed for 3 consecutive weeks. $50 (I think) Done!
   2. Get copies of all 3 weeks of publication to prove you actually did it. Done!
4. Done!
   1. Bring the copies of the newspaper back to the clerk and obtain a signed copy of the Decree for Name Change from the court. The only thing left to do!

Round 2

And then there’s round 2 – getting your passport, license, social security card, birth certificate all the other stuff you take for granted changed…

But it’s all worth it – we’ll soon (officially) be the Heberts. I’d go through this a thousand times over for her.

Baltimore Community Foundation's new website!

Just like parents aren’t supposed to favor one kid over another, I know I’m not supposed to have favorite clients.

But I can’t help it, I just do.

At Embolden, we’ve built some really beautiful, usable, just plain awesome websites. And I’m proud of each and every one of them.

Like this recent Jewish Family & Children’s Service website – I dig it, it’s beautiful, it speaks to the organization’s brand – it’s a fab website.

But some websites aren’t just a professional accomplishment, even though we’re getting paid, they feel like a labor of love (a sometimes very intensive one!)

Baltimore Community Foundation launched their new website last Monday, after what I’m pretty sure mirrored a gestation period. And the offspring of the effort? Something I couldn’t be more proud to have been a part of. (And we haven’t even started phase 2 yet!)

Check it out. It’s pretty damn fantastic.

Stephen, diligently working the Drunken Scoop window

I spent last week in Rhode Island, working at the mother ship and staying with Nana Dana and Grandpa Tom.

My social visits included a trip to the Rum Raisin, or the Drunken Scoop, or as it’s actually known, North Side Creamery.

My First Lesbian

Perhaps the highlight of the trip was a beverage with someone whom I’ve long thought of as my first lesbian.

It’s not dirty.

At the impressionable young age of 15, Liv and I attended a Shawn Colvin concert. Smoking cloves and rockin’ out (as much as you can to Shawn Colvin), we were in a heated discussion about the upcoming Indigo Girls concert. A seriously intoxicated woman overheard us and dragged her friend over to get the details – enter my first lesbian.

It was just a short time later that I ran into my first lesbian again at Deville’s, better known as the local bar where I spent the majority of my college career. Years passed and we became friends. Eventually, I started down the journey that was the 8 year relationship with my ex. They were close friends, and we spent a good bit of time together.

When that relationship ended, in what can only be described as ugly, the seas of our friends parted. I assumed that my first lesbian, being close with my ex, would choose the other horse. I wasn’t offended. Of all of the choices that were made and teams chosen, I was sure that those chips were destined to fall over toward my ex.

Coming Around Again

Almost 3 years later, and many folks who picked the other horse have reached out. Fences and bridges have been mended.

Not sure how my first lesbian would feel about hearing from me, I baited her on Facebook, commenting on a mutual friend’s wall post. Within moments, she’d sent me a FB message saying hello. Manipulative, yes, but I was still a little wary of the emotional mine-field that was that breakup’s fallout.

And so, last week I had a drink with my first lesbian, her wife, and two other friends.

I was a little nervous about seeing them after so long, but with the exception of my not knowing much of the last few years of their lives, it was like no time had passed. It was my baggage that had been in the way.

I’ve been struggling to figure out how I feel about it all. Happy, satisfied, a little bit self-righteous (not proud of that last one, but it’s true.)

I don’t like unfinished business, or untied ends.

Coming around again, full circle – it makes me feel calm. I’m grateful for the opportunity to reach back.