Mama Mea Culpa

When I was twenty years old I was dealt the hardest blow to my idea of self that I have ever taken. And the greatest part was that it was my Mom who dealt the shattering blow.

After high school and the subsequent gay party life that I had gotten tired of, I started looking for ways to improve my outlook and my demeanor. I had been told on several occasions by very good friends, that I was just so depressing to be around because of my negative outlook and my constant bitterness about the unfairness of life. Sure I had reason and justification to feel that way, but the more people hung around me the more I sounded like a bitter old record on repeat. When my best friend Stacey took me aside one day and explained why it was just her and I for the movie and not the rest of the group, it was the first time that it really sunk in that bitter and depressing was really how people experienced me. I didn't think of myself that way, so to be confronted with that reality about myself sent me on a quest of self exploration.

At the time I had just done the Landmark Forum (the evolution of Wearner Earhardts EST Seminars) and was just becoming aware of who I am as a person, and more importantly, my choice in the matter. I spent several days a week volunteering there for those couple years. This is why people label it "cult-like", that and the fact that people have genuine revelations doing this kind of self-introspective work and come out changed somehow. The real reason people volunteer so much there after doing the Forum is because after such major self-revelations it helps to be around people on the same journey, and around people who understand the questions you are asking about yourself. Like speaks to like.

Landmark was not some new fangled fad that had randomly appeared at that moment of my life either. Both my parents had done the EST Training when I was four years old, and had raised me and Josh in that kind of logic based conversational relationship. That is how calmly talking to me on the phone could switch me from wild out of control hellion to obedient school boy in a matter of minutes. They engaged my brain from as early as I could use it. They actually treated me like a thinking human being, not a randomly willful disobedient child. In the end, that kind of upbringing ensured that my parents would always be more than just parents, they would be equals as thinking human beings.

The course I was volunteering for that led to the ultimate shattering of my self-identity was called the Communication course, and as one bent on self-improvement I took the homework assignments of that course very seriously. The homework they has assigned for the first week seemed quite simple, though after spending several hours unsuccessfully trying to figure it out for myself, I eventually came to a wall. When these kinds of blocks come up, I do what I've always done, I called my mom to pick her brain about it. We planned dinner that night and somehow ended up at Denny's (why is my life always changed dramatically at a Denny's?). There, we had a long profound conversation about the homework assignment which was: What one sentence rules your life?

For the uninitiated, this can seem like a weird and tricky question. For me, it was very difficult to put in to words and actually say those words out loud. The idea is that in everything you do in life, every question you ask, every statement you make, every choice you make and every action you take you are perpetuating and enforcing this one sentence, subconsciously of course. But it is there in the background of everything you do in life. It is usually a very simple statement made by a child.

So mom picked me up from the zoo I was living in and we went to Denny's and started having a conversation. I dont remember a lot of the lead up to the point where I discovered my sentence, but it involved my past, and my behaviors, and my secret thoughts, and when it came right down to it, out popped a sentence spoken by my child-self: "There is something wrong with me".

This surprised my mom and she asked if I was sure that was the sentence that ruled my life. After a little more reflection I decided that yes, in fact, this sentiment was at the heart of everything I had done in my life and was present in all the actions I took and in every conversation that I had ever had. When I acted up, I was physically showing that there was in fact something wrong with me, when I had tantrums I showed it, when I asked questions I asked it believing there was something wrong with me for not already knowing the answer. If I really looked, I could find that one sentiment everywhere in my life. She then asked me what made me think that it was true.

I told her about my first memory somewhere around the age of four. I was sitting in a therapists office and I remember him looking at me and asking me what would make my parents think there was something wrong with me. That's probably when it started. As simple as that, someone says there is something wrong with you, and you believe them. Then you spend your life subconsciously proving them right. I decided somewhere around four years old, that either there was something wrong with me, or there was something about me that people found wrong.

I then spent my youth acting up. Proving to everyone that there was, in fact, something wrong with me. I was put in Special Ed from the age of five because of "emotional problems", I saw therapists regularly and never the same one for too long, I was on a first name basis with the school counselors repeatedly in their offices because of something I had said or done, I even had a couple run in's with the law. All in all, because of that one sub-conscience choice I had become a very difficult child. When I was in the second grade at Wilmont Elementary, I had one of my legendary tantrums that came to an abrupt and shocking end when I kicked my teacher right in the face and gave her a bloody nose. Difficult boy.

Yet, even then, my Mom had a way of using her words. After the "kick heard round the school" my teacher took me by the hand to her office and got my mom on the phone at work. I was still struggling against her, but the moment she put that phone against my ear, it stopped. I have no idea what my Mom said to me, but it was a slow quiet conversation that made me calm down, apologize to the teacher and promise to do my school work. When I handed the phone back to the teacher, she was so shocked with the about face in my demeanor that she could only utter the words "What on earth did you say to him?" My moms reply "I just had a conversation about what behavior is appropriate at school and what isn't."

When I started 8th grade I got put into a "normal" class in junior high. My mom still remembers the face of the teacher I got, though she mostly remembers it through a red haze of unimaginable anger. In my vein of being "wrong" I had taken up several quite unusual traits. For example I much preferred sitting on the floor under my desk as opposed to on my chair. I liked to make noise as well... especially if it was too quiet. Any noise at all really, and with this big old mouth I have a cacophony that comes out, from raptor screeches to dog barks and everything in between. My favorite thing to do was when the teacher wasn't paying attention I would go to the back of the classroom, open the floor to ceiling storage closets and fold myself onto one of the shelves and shut the closet doors. At least twice it caused quite a ruckus when the teacher thought he had lost one of the kids. To say he didn't like me much, would be putting it lightly. He hated my behavior so much, that he successfully got me permanently expelled from the only Junior High school in a 50 mile area. At that final meeting, he had acted so righteous and justified in only teaching normal students that my mom, the calm zen one, almost punched him right in the face. But, as I was in the room, she decided better of it.

She drove us home that day angrier than I had ever seen her. She had taken the rest of the afternoon off but when we got home, she told me I couldn't come inside. That I could spend the next couple hours playing outside in the yard or whatever, but she didn't want to see me in the house until school was over and Josh got home. So my punishment for getting expelled was to go play outside, and instead of doing that, I broke into the neighbors house and stole some trinkets. This began the avalanche that eventually led me to assault charges, court dates, home study, institutionalization and eventually probation in another state; all before my 12th birthday.

So in answer to my Mom's question about whether that sentence was true about me I could only reply "People who dont have something wrong with them, dont go through all the things that I've gone through!' And she sat there in silence for a few moments while formulating the response that would eventually shatter everything I believed myself to be.

She looked back at me and said "Shane, I'm going to say this about the things you have gone through in your life. All of those therapists who insisted that something was wrong with you, those couselers who deemed you emotionally challenged and unfit for normal classes, the teachers who were to lazy to put in the extra work to engage you, the Doctors who couldn't ever tell if anything was actually wrong with you, and especially your Dad and I, we were all wrong. There was never anything wrong with you, we just didn't know any better than to believe people who thought they knew what they were doing. I was wrong for believing them.

"You were never anything more than an amazingly creative, energetic little boy who loved to play and use every bit of your imagination as much as you possibly could. They live in a world of sameness and conformity, and you were never meant to conform. You are a born leader, and you were born to stand out in this world and make a difference. I'm sorry. Please hear me when I say this, I am sorry for letting you believe that about yourself for so long. It. is. Not. True.

"Only You get to say who You are. Only You get to decide who You will become. More than anybody I've ever met, you have the reason and right to go through life angry about the hands you've been dealt. But you took that anger and became one of the strongest people I have ever known. No matter how many wiser, older people tried to conform you to the way you should be, you always held true to who you were and the possibility of who you could be. You were always the smartest person in the room and you never backed down from questioning the things you didnt understand, and while that can frustrate the common person to no end, it is people like you that drive the world forward. You give me hope for the future.

"And as a point of clarification, I know exactly which therapist your first memory is about. I find it weird that you remember him because that was the one and only time I ever took you to him. I was in the room when he asked you that and I remember it because you started tearing up and crying. The part that you dont remember is at the end as we were getting ready to leave, he took me aside and told me that he had observed certain behaviors and traits in you that, if left untreated by him, could lead to homosexuality. I pulled away from him, I told him that I already knew my son was gay and there was absolutely nothing that needed to be fixed about that, and that you would be just as loved. Then I looked him in the eye and said I would not ever be bringing my son back to a hack like him. Then you and I went out to ice cream at Baskin Robins."

The unlovable, broken, unpopular, chubby ugly boy died that day, in that very moment. Every excuse that I had to justify the way I was had become a choice that I could take forward with me, or set down and move on from. I chose in that moment, to move on. I have never made a better choice. From then on, I became a new man, the man I wanted to be, the man that I could be proud of. I went to school, then the military, then on to be twice over CEO of arts organizations, and I have started following my dreams with wild abandon. I have become a man that I am proud of.

This wouldn't have happened with different parents. My Mom and Dad are the most amazing people I know. And I dont say that simply because they are my blood and they raised me. I say that because they were able to form adult relationships with their children, and in so doing they created thinking, artistic fully formed human beings. I have often said that my Mom is so powerful in her mind and her speech that if she said the word chair, a chair would fall out of her mouth. By admitting her mistakes and saying the words I Was Wrong, she shed the suffering and self-imposed alienation I had felt for years and gave me a second birth in life as truly anyone I wanted to be, free from the baggage of my youth.

She speaks in a way that causes transformation in others, and when she tries she creates brilliance from nothing.


Happy Mothers Day, Mom

Oh My Goth... I just want to Die... Dye... DYE my hair black!!! (The Haircut Journey)

Getting a haircut

 The Corporate Trim

 The Ed Grimly

 The Disheveled Mop

The Full Curl

 The Old Timers Hawk

 The Cool Hipster

 The Standard

 The Convertible Ride

 The Romantic Lead

 The 90's Coolness

 The Hair Helmet

 The Single Ringlet

 The Front-styled Free Curl

 The Wave Back

 The Superman

 The 30's Dandy Do

 The NOTHING LIKE BIEBER!

 The I Just Don't Give A Damn Curl

 The Loose Left Pomp

 The Educated Curl

 The Box Side Sweep

 The Hat Curl

 The Pinnacle

 The Just Woke Up Do

 The Serial Killer in Bad Lighting

 The Full Day of Sweating Do

 The Rooster

 The Nondescript Extra Hair

 The Elevated Sweep Back

 The Forehead Wave

 The Lumberjack

 The Really Scared Hair

 The English Rock Star

 

The Holy Shit, You're Crazy Hair

My Disgrace

All the pictures in this post are of the USS Shiloh (CG-67). This is the boat I was assigned to while in the Navy.

I have told this story a thousand times so I figured I would finally write it down. This is the story of how exactly I got the boot from the military. I will do a little catch up for those of you who didn't even know I was in the military.

Preamble:

I joined the Navy September 17th, 1997. I joined for one very specific reason; to save myself. After high school I was a very lazy boy. I didn't want a job. I was pissed off a lot. I couldn't afford to go to college so I just pissed around and did a lot of nothing. I had several jobs that all sucked and that I always left prematurely. I didn't really like work you see. My parents, not knowing what else to do, finally gave me the boot from the familial manse. I hopped around between abandoned apartments, friends living rooms, and anywhere else I could find to sleep. There were a few nights when yes, I actually did sleep on the streets.

I hated my life and I knew that I was on a path to an early death or prison. I was a wreck and even when I did get jobs I couldn't keep them. My life seemed to be stuck in a bad after school special. My parents would let me come back for spans of time after I would cry and tug at every one of my Mom's heart strings. But these were usually short lived because once I got back into the house I would sit around and do nothing. I faked it well though. I told my dad that I had a job at a store in the mall and when he came home from his morning route I would either hide in the garage or run out saying I was on my way to work. In actuality I would go to the mall and sneak into the theater and watch all the movies two or three times, or until enough time had passed that I could pretend that I had worked a full day. Told you, difficult boy.




Well they always caught on eventually. After a couple years of this cycle I finally got that I needed to do something drastic or it would be too late. I was in a very ugly downward spiral that would not end well for me. I started seriously thinking about what I could do. I couldn't hold down a job, my parents were always on the verge of kicking me out, I couldn't find a job that I wouldnt just quit, and that was when it came to me. A job where I can't quit or get fired... 

And so, shortly before my 22nd birthday I went down to the Navy recruiters office and signed my name on the dotted line. That night was a very intense night in the house. Both Mom and Chuck thought it was one of the worst things I had ever done. Mom couldn't get it out of her head that gay people die in the military at the hands of their shipmates (it didn't help that some made for tv movie about that very thing had just been on tv). Chuck thought it was a bad idea because he didn't think I could handle it, and he too, didn't want to see me hurt or even killed. Remember my parents are hippies, my Mom's response when I told her was "I knew I should have listed you as a conscientious objector when I had the chance".

Well, I went anyway. And there are a lot of fantastic stories, a lot of great port visits, some amazing people and some horrible times that I could tell you about. But the one story that beats all the others, and the one I've had to repeat the most often is about how I got kicked out. And just for those of you who think it was because I am a total MO serving during Don't ask, Don't tell... you are wrong.

December 8th 1999:

I was on the boat that night with a free evening but not really sure what I wanted to do. It was a Wednesday night and I had to work the next day so I couldn't do anything crazy. I had made friends with a couple of the new guys in my division on the boat. I was pretty sure one of them was very gay, the other one was just so cute and friendly that I figured he was used to and liked gay guys cuz I was gay and he knew and he still liked me and wanted to hang out. We ran into another Navy friend of mine on the dock that I knew from the gay bars and he said we could all chill at his place that night if we wanted. So the four of us were off, we stocked up on liquor and bad movies and went over to Dustin's house.

All in all the night went by pretty uneventful. Romanowski and I were just a couple gigglers and Dustin and Green were doing this weird whose-more-manly thing, also know as flirting. It was a fun night. When it became apparent that Green wasn't really a drinker, we picked him up and took him to Dustin's bedroom and put him to bed. The three of us stayed up for another hour or so and then finally we all went to sleep. Dustin to his room to watch Greene and Romanowski and I into the other bedroom. Some time passed while we all slept and then Dustin came out of his room saying that Greene was having involuntary personal protein spills... all over his good sheets!!!

Dustin and I helped him up and put him directly into the shower. He still had his boxers on when we turned the water on him. He sobered up a little bit almost at once. When he was talking coherently we turned the water off and helped him out. He sat on the floor giggling, and asked for some dry underwear which Dustin ran to get. We helped him change and dry off and then all four of us went back to our respective beds. The next morning the four of us got up with heads pounding. We all sat around the kitchen table and tried to eat something while laughing about things from the previous night. Greene and Dustin seemed to be getting on fantastically. They were touching knees under the table, smiling and making eye contact a lot. After breakfast and what seemed like Greene and Dustin taking a long time to get dressed, we managed to make our way back to the boat. That is when everything exploded.



Greene was still drunk and he passed out as soon as we got back to the boat, missing the morning muster. When the chief heard that Greene was sleeping and that was why he missed muster he headed straight down to give him a good yelling at. Neither of them had come back by the time we were given our assignments and I figured that Greene had been yelled at and Chief had gone on to other things. Later that morning I was doing my maintenance work in one of the main hallways inside the ship when the Chief Master at Arms (the cop of the boat, basically) approached me. He started asking me about this Dustin person that I had hung out with the night before. I asked why he wanted to know and he said in a rather loud voice, so that anyone else in the hallway would hear, that this Dustin person had raped Greene the previous night. When I told him that that most certainly did not happen, the MAA got even angrier. He started talking about Faggots and what happens to them in the military and then in accusing tones he said I had to tell him everything about what happened.

I had gotten pretty riled up during this tirade of hate, and when he put it to me like he was ordering me to disclose not only who Dustin was but whether or not he was a faggot. I stood up straight, dwarfing him in the process, and said that he could go directly to hell and while he was there he could direct his ignorant illegal questions to my attorney. Then, while he was still in shock at being talked to that way, I turned and walked away from him. That day turned out to be an all around nightmare. At lunch instead of the usual time to eat and relax, our division officer forced us all to go on a mile and a half run. If you know me, you know that running is probably my least favorite thing in the world.

By the time we got back to the boat after the run everyone but the die hards were pretty exhausted. We all started walking toward the gangway to get back on the boat when our LT. said that we were going to do the same run again, right now. I turned back to him to see if I had heard him right, as did everyone. He was totally serious. So the division begrudgingly started filing back onto the pier to run again, with one exception. I was done running. I turned toward the boat and kept walking to the gangway. He called my name and I pretended that I didn't hear him. When I didn't respond he ran over to cut me off.

"Where are you going?" he asked

"To eat lunch" I responded, trying as hard as I could not to scream.

"We are doing this run again, right now. The entire division, and that includes you, so come on..."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"The navy requirement is that I be able to run a mile and a half, which I just did. I am not skipping lunch, and I am not running another mile and a half."

"Yes, you are. That is an order. We are a team and we will do this as a team."

"Sir, you can go fuck yourself. It's not one for the navy and one for you. I am going back on the boat, eating lunch, and then going to my on-duty watch station which your run would make me late for."

If he had a response to that, I never heard it. That was when the MAA saw me on the pier and came running.

"Kroll, what the hell are you doing off the boat?"

"I was running with my division, why?"

"Because the Officer of the Deck has orders not to allow you to leave the boat. You need to come with me, right now."



So without another look back at my LT I walked to the gangway, onto the boat and down to the MAA's office. I had no idea what was going on now. He sat me down in his office doing his best tough guy impersonation, and started questioning me again. And again I told him that if he wanted to talk to me about legal matters he could consult my attorney for I had nothing to say to him. It felt good defying this man who seemed to think that he could break whatever rules he wanted. For one brief moment I belonged to me again. We sat there in silence, him filling out papers, and me arms crossed waiting.

Finally he looked up at me and asked if I was going to tell him anything. I told him that Greene was lying through his teeth if he says he was raped. He asked if I had anything more substantial to say, and I said yeah, attorney. Then he picked up a stack of paperwork, stapled it and told me to follow him. We went down to the berthing that I called home and he asked me to take him to my rack and my locker. Once there he asked to see my seabag and when I got it out, he said "fill it".

"With what?" I asked

"All your belongings" he said. I looked at him in confusion and his reply was "as of today you are to be removed from this ship and placed under disciplinary restriction in the Transient Personnel Unit Disciplinary Barracks." What the fuck!!

So while people filed around in the berthing trying to figure out what was going on, I packed everything I owned into that seabag. When I was packed the MAA took me up to the quarterdeck and entered into the log book that Kroll had been disembarked from the USS Shiloh and was on temporary assignment to TPU Disciplinary Barracks.

It took me a few days to get my feet back on the ground. I was so thrown for a loop when it came to what to do. The first thing I did was go to the JAG office and get myself a Navy attorney. I explained everything including the fact that there was nothing  non-consensual that happened. NCIS came to question me, and again I told them they could speak to my attorney. It all got very tense. The rumor mill on the boat had started flying. The worst and most widely believed gossip was that I had raped Greene. So anytime I ran into someone from my boat I got an evil eye. When it was someone I considered a friend that gave me the cold shoulder I would be pissed and yell at them saying "Seriously? You think I raped that liar? Me??" Not a very convincing argument I know, but it was all I could think of in the moment. 

168 days in Hell

So there I was... after two years on my boat I was sent to a new command and I was not to have any contact with anyone on the boat. TPU is normally a place for sailors to go while waiting to go somewhere else. For example, if a girl that is assigned to a boat gets pregnant she is assigned to TPU until she delivers and then she can be transferred back to the boat. Or if someone gets to San Diego but their assigned boat is underway somewhere, they go to TPU and wait for the boat to get back. It is transient, for people passing through.

TPU Disciplinary isn't much different. We would go work out on the base during the day, doing the odd jobs that didn't exactly belong to anybody, but still needed to be done. And then we would go back to the barracks. The barracks were actually just like boot camp. Two very long wide rooms with about a hundred bunk beds and lockers. All privacy out the door. They don't want to make it comfortable. They don't want anyone to stay too long. So like the regular TPU, this barracks was also filled with transients... the only difference, really, was destination location. These people were not waiting to get to their ship. They were waiting for punishment of some kind or another. Be it discharge, restriction or brig. Some of them were pretty cool people, but some of them were clearly nuts. I did however meet some quality people. If you remember Caanan from my Beautiful Boys #1. I met him there. That was the only redeeming quality.

Right next door to TPU was NCIS, and my boats MAA informed them of the investigation that I was involved in and so they routinely pulled me in for questioning. Just like with the MAA they asked me questions they had no right to ask me. And I refused completely to help them with their investigation. It was pretty clear that they had already spoken to Greene and that he had told them I had nothing to do with it. They were focusing their attention on this Dustin person that they say actually committed the crime. I was under investigation for Conspiracy to commit sodomy, accomplice to rape, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, disobeying orders, leaving my duty station and several other things. These charges were what the people on the boat were told I had done.



It took them 3 months to get to it, but when they finally informed me of the date of my captains mast (one step down from court martial) I felt like I was ready to face them. The actual charges of my Captains Mast ended up simply being false official statement, requesting another to commit an offense and leaving place of duty. They had tried to throw the book at me and failed. Although they did charge me with crimes that had been removed from the uniform code of military justice more than twenty five years prior.

The day of my captains mast I got dressed in my dress whites uniform. They had been cleaned, pressed and my shoes polished. All my medals (more than anyone else of my rank on my ship) were polished and pinned to my lapel. The duty van came and picked me up and brought me to my ship. For the first time since I had been removed from my ship, I was allowed on board, and got to see my shipmates. If you have ever been in trouble with the law you can imagine the feelings I was going through. I was brought downstairs to the library and asked to stand at parade rest outside the door until I was summoned. The MAA approached me and started talking to me. I ignored him completely, which I'm sure angered him to no end, but that guy was not only an unimaginable prick, he was one of those people that once they get the slightest taste of power they become drunk with it.

After about twenty minutes of waiting I was asked to come inside. I was told to stand on a spot about five feet from the captain (his name was Liggett, and he was one of two people that I ever experienced having problems with gays during my service). To my left was the MAA and the executive officer, and to my right was my entire chain of command. BM1 Manns, Chief Damien, LT Keefer, and LTCDR Bastafka. It began with the MAA reading off all the charges. When he was done, I was asked if I understood the charges, and I said yes, with the exception of two. I don't remember exactly what they were, but my lawyer had prepared me well. The two charges I objected to had been removed from the UCMJ and were therefore no longer crimes.

Captain Liggett said "Well, I'm sure he meant this charge and that charge..."

To which I replied "He may have meant this charge and that charge sir, but that is not what he has charged me with. Last time I checked you cant charge people for committing crimes that are not actually crimes."

The captain looked at me for a moment in what could only have been amused disbelief and then said "It doesn't matter that you say they have been removed, I am the captain and I am going to charge you with those crimes."

"Captain, should you choose to go ahead and charge me with non-existent crimes, I will have your decision overturned on appeal. Here are the pages of the UCMJ where those crimes used to be and you can clearly see that they were removed." I handed him the photocopies my lawyer had given me, he glanced at them, glanced at the MAA, and said that we were going to move ahead with the proceedings and this would get ironed out after.



He asked me to explain what had happened and I told him about being questioned in the hallway where everyone could hear. I told him about his MAA breaking the don't ask don't tell law. And I told him that what had happened between Greene and Dustin was consensual in my observation and it was between them. He wanted to know about Dustin, and still I refused to tell him anything. At that he turned to my chain of command and asked them each to give their opinion of me as a sailor and he asked them for a recommendation of what to do.

BM1 Mans went first: "While I haven't been on board very long I have observed Kroll at work and he seems to get the job done." He was the only person that stood up for me. The chief, who I had had several heart to hearts with, and whom I trusted, stabbed me in the back while lying to my face.

"Kroll is a terrible sailor. You should remove him from the navy." This statement was echoed by LT Keefer, my division officer. Almost word for word, the two of them lied.

At this point, my disbelief was so palpable that I actually smiled a little. Captain Liggett saw it and asked "Do you think this is funny, Kroll?"

I looked at him and said "No sir, this is not funny. This is sad, and pathetic."

"What is?" he asked.

"It is sad that these men have so little honor that they would sell their integrity just to look good for you. It is pathetic that they feel they can lie without any repercussion or aforethought, just because they think it is what you want to hear."

"Calling people who out rank you names, will not help your cause here, Kroll. You are to give these men your respect." I had been looking at the men that had just betrayed me, but at these words I turned back to the captain.

"You tell me I am too blindly follow these men's orders and give them respect? Why would I give them an ounce of respect when they clearly think that the Navy values of Honor, Courage and Commitment are nothing but some fancy words? They just lied to your face, and all you can say is respect them." At this I turned to the Chief, who I felt had betrayed me the deepest and I asked him to clarify some things for me.

"Chief, you just said that I was a terrible sailor. Do you want to refine that statement at all? No? Then answer me this, why am I the highest ranking seamen in your division? Or better yet, why did you give me all those advanced level jobs if you thought I was so horrible? Are you in the habit of giving bad sailors the best jobs? If I was so bad why did you make me line captain, or Master Lee Helmsmen, Paint Locker PO, Flight Crew, Damage Control Maintenance Man. Why did you give me permission to spend my time working on getting my ESWAS qualifications? Why did you let me spend all that time in medical so I could get my quals for Corps School? Why did you have me get qualified for watches that were not only above my rank, petty officer of the watch, but which I would never stand, Officer of the Deck?"



At that I turned back to the captain and said "Does that sound like I am a terrible sailor, or does it sound like you just got lied to?"

Captain Liggett narrowed his eyes and he said to me "Seamen Kroll, you just disrespected several ranking officers in my presence. Do you want to elaborate on what a good sailor you are? I am finding you guilty of all charges. You will forfeit $200 a month for two months, be reduced in rank to Seamen Apprentice, you will be given extra duty and put on restriction at TPU for 40 days. I will also be dishonorably discharging you from the Navy. You will now turn and return to the hallway and wait to be escorted back to TPU."

"Yes sir, and Captain, this is my notice to inform you that I will be appealing your decision. Unlike these people here, I still have my integrity and I came prepared to defend it." With that I turned and marched out of the room and waited in the hallway. The people in the room started filing out behind me and the Chief stopped in front of me and started "Kroll..."

"I will not be responding to you any more chief. I will have no more of your lies, you have no honor or integrity and I have no respect for you or anything you have to say." With that he snapped his mouth shut and walked away. BM1 Manns stood there watching him go. "Kroll, I'm sorry this is all happening to you, truly. But I think what the Chief was going to say is that your future is not here. You were never meant to be a military man, you have a lot more going for you than the people here. I think the Chief just wanted to get you out so that you can start your real life." With that the MAA came out and escorted me to the duty van, which took me back to TPU. They put me on restriction for about five days until the appeal was formally lodged and then I went back to normal duty.

Being in TPU wasn't all bad. The CO of TPU took a special interest in my case because she saw that I was always impeccably dressed, I always passed my inspections with out-standing's and I was always reliable in the jobs I was assigned. One day not long after my captains mast she stopped in front of me during inspection. "Kroll, your uniform is clean and ironed. The creases are all in the right places and you have a very high gloss on your shoes. Yet another outstanding uniform inspection. About your situation with your boat, I've read your file and the results of your Captains Mast and honestly, I think that you are being railroaded. While I have no authority to change any of that, I can make your time here in TPU go as easily as possible. And one thing I will promise you is that if they do kick you out, I will make sure it goes as quickly and easily as possible. When they finally officially transfer you to my command I will have you out of here and back in the civilian world in less than three days. Does that sound good to you?"

To which my stunned response was "Yes mam, thank you very much."

For another two months I fought a legal battle with my boat. To help my appeal along I wrote a very long scathing five page letter. I felt completely betrayed by my command and so felt that it was my obligation to make things as difficult for them as they were making it for me. In this letter I stated that I had been harassed and called a fagot so many times that I was always in a state of fear for my life while I was there. I then proceeded to list the name, rank and date of every person on my boat that had broken the Don't ask, Don't tell rule and when they did it. I asked for justice, and that an example be made to show that it was more than just a paper law.

When I finished this letter I sent it to everyone I could possible think of. I sent it to my congresswoman, my senator, the vice president (I couldn't send it to Bill because technically he was in my chain of command and that would get me in even more trouble), the national press syndicate, civil rights attorney Gloria Alred, my family attorney, my JAG attorney, and finally I sent a copy to my captain.

At the end of April I got a summons from the new Executive Officer on my boat. He was new to this whole situation and wanted to get it all from the horses mouth. Again I got into my best uniform and waited for the duty van. When I got to the boat I was escorted into the officers quarters where the XO has his office. He called me in and I stood against the wall in what was a very small office. He looked at me for a moment and then asked me if I could please explain this letter to him. I asked what he meant, since in my mind the letter seemed pretty self explanatory. He asked me about my captains mast and the things I had said there. I didn't know what to think of this guy since he was so calm. Unlike most of the other officers I had experienced this guy seemed to have a firm grasp on logic. After the question and answer portion he finally asked me if I wanted out of the military.

I think it was the first time someone had actually asked me that and expected an honest answer. It took me a moment, but I finally decided to open up to him. I told him "I did want out of the military, since the day I joined. But I had put my name on that enlistment form of my own free will. That was the only reason I had stayed in the navy. I put my name on that piece of paper and promised to defend my country to the best of my abilities. I had plenty of reasons and plenty of opportunities to get out, but I didn't. My name is my word, it is my bond of integrity, by putting my name on that paper I made a promise and my name is only as good as the promises I keep."



I then went on and told him that the Shiloh had put a stain on my name with innuendo, rumor and irresponsibility. "If that is the state that our military is in, where people can lie with no consequences. Where power hungry people have no checks put on them, and where one lie can spin so far out of control that it starts ruining people's lives, than I suppose my answer is yes, I want out of the navy."

"Ok. I will let you out of the military, and I will give you a general under honorable discharge. You will still have to do your time on restriction, but the day your restriction is over you will be processed out and released from service. Does that sound amenable to you?" He gave me what I was fighting for, and so my only response was "Yes sir."

I went back to TPU and went back on restriction. While I was on restriction the USS Shiloh officially transferred me to TPU, and true to her word as soon as TPU got all my paper work the CO of TPU expedited my release. I was about six days short of finishing my restriction when the CO of TPU said that my restriction was over and I needed to go to all the standard end of service appointments. Three days after that I was discharged from the United States Navy. I got in my car with everything I owned and after a brief stop at my parents house, I drove the 5 north to San Francisco.

My unofficial profession

When I was in 6th grade at Parmalee Elemetary school in Indian Hills, CO. The school music teacher got it in her head that we were old enough and mature enough to tackle for that years school play, Gilbert and Sullivan's: The Mikado.

I have no memory of auditioning, but somehow, miraculously, I was cast in the title role as The Mikado. I was eleven years old and thrilled to death! It may have been the fact that I was the only kid in the school that had heard of the musical. For which I tip my hat to my mom for constantly watching musicals with me as a child. We even used to play a game out and about; if we heard a song and one of us recognized it from a show, we would call out "name that show" and see who had the more expansive musical knowledge (usually her, but I stumped her once or twice). So it helped that I had heard the music before.

The night we went on, I could see my mom in the audience beaming, and I had this feeling of such pure joy and I knew. I was meant to be an actor. It is what I was born to do, the feeling inside of me was so true and pure that there was no way I was ever going to be happy doing anything else.

Fast forward to high school where I was in every single show from sophomore year on... "No, No, a Million Times No", "Cactus Flower", "Grease", "Up the Down Staircase", "You Cant Take it With You", "Hello Dolly", "A Midsummer Nights Dream", "The Diary of Anne Frank" and "Oklahoma", not to mention doing either a song or monologue in every talent show I could get accepted into every year. It was in me, everyone said so, "Shane, there's no doubt your going to be famous one day, your just so naturally talented."  This is what everyone told me, and while I tried to believe them, I was also terrified about the chances someone with my "look" had of making it in the harshest industry in the world. I've never been the leading man type. And at that point I was just a pimply faced chubby teenage gay boy, not the striking man I am now...

After high school I got distracted when I discovered GAY, and all that came with it. It was during this time period that I started my unofficial professional career: getting laid off. The sheer number of jobs I've had make my mind go fuzzy. I've worked in countless industry's, in numerous capacities, from Nurse, to fireman to flight crew. I've worked in insurance, real estate, advertising, property management, law offices, records offices, a homeless soup kitchen, blood draw clinics, hospitals, schools, tv stations, condominium's, residential manager to club bouncer. I've even applied and been accepted to the SF Police Academy (I didn't go). The only official college experience I have was that summer theater course at a community college and when I went to a vocational school and got certified as a nurse assistant and phlebotomist, and even after going to school, I still couldn't find a steady job.

It was during this time that my life started to spiral a little bit out of control. I was out partying all the time, staying at friends places for days at a time without calling home. I was homeless a couple times, started drinking a little and couldn't for the life of keep a job. That's when I learned that sometimes to save yourself you have to so something really drastic. So at 22, as an openly gay man I went and got the only job that I could find where I couldn't get fired. I joined the navy.

In an ironic twist of fate, I actually did get fired from the navy. I put them through a viscous legal battle and eventually won both my honor and my benefits, but also my freedom. I do credit them with teaching me what I needed to know. How to be organized, disciplined and to do the best you can every day. For that, I am grateful for having served. But there I was jobless again, mom and dad had moved into a one bedroom apartment so I couldn't move home, so off to SF I went to stay with Sarah... She's a whole other story...

After getting separated from the military I moved to the Bay Area and continued my trend of short lived jobs. I filled in for a nurse on sabbatical for 6 months then worked for another Dr for three months before realizing I didn't want to be a nurse anymore. From there I went on to an 8 month job as a records clerk for a banking institution. Then 6 months in records at a law firm. Then I got sent on a temp assignment as an admin assistant at Jones Lang LaSalle, and after 11 months they hired me on permanently as an executive assistant. I worked there for just over three years. Just a little less than the time I spent in the navy.

I left JLL of my own volition when I was offered the position of Executive Assistant to the Deputy Director of a really big hospital. It was a great job. I finally had my own office, with a door and a closet. I was happy. Three months later she got a huge promotion to another campus, and I got laid off because they couldn't justify an assistant for an empty position.

Back to temping.

I got a great gig running the USF law clinics for two semesters (9 months) before they hired someone permanently for the position. Then I went over to an Office Services management position where I worked for 8 months until the guy I was hired to replace made it clear he wouldn't be leaving after all. From there I worked in a bunch of different offices that have all blurred together in my mind.

Then I got the job at the Elks Lodge. I worked there as the Office Manager/Membership Manager/Business Manager for three years until I forced enough change to more above board business practices that they eventually found a way to terminate me. And while I have very little respect for some of the people at that lodge, I don't want to spend a lot of time bad mouthing them either. Lets just say that while I worked there I felt a lack of integrity in the operations to such a severe degree that I was happy to have my name removed from that place.

From there I again went back to my temp agency where they had me on three different jobs within the next year one at a hotel for a month and a half, four months as the warranty services officer and tour guide at a new condo complex by the ball park and 7 months at a fancy high rise apt building as a concierge.

It was this last job that went on to buy me out of my contract with my temp agency and offer me the promotion to Resident Service Supervisor of a Related LLC building. This was the great job that I got the offer letter the same day I got my eviction notice. And while I did a damn good job while I worked there I rubbed the decorator the wrong way and she complained and had me fired. That and the problems I had been finding while learning the accounting systems. Basically, because most of the business was operating in NY they didn't adhere to the same property laws that we have here in CA. So they sent people's deposits out late and I got blamed for it. Even though I was the one who was shouting the loudest for help. Whatever.

From there, again, back to temping... I'm telling you, my agency Office Team, loves me. I'm a great candidate for them, I have been bought out several times and the people that get me for short term usually keep me much longer than my original assignment was for. So technically, I've made a profession of short term jobs. I've never been at a job for longer than 4 years... Unless you count that one non profit... I did serve on the Board of Directors as both President and Vice President for a total of five years for my Chorus, and while I accomplished a lot of things I am very proud of there, it was never a paying job.

So last year when I got let go from Related, there was some weird serendipity. After not really going after my dream of acting for years I finally decided it was now or never. I had started a singing and acting class when I got my new job, and the night before I got the boot, I had been in class and my coach had asked what I truly wanted to do. "I want to act. I want to be a professional paid actor. It's all I've ever wanted." Once I spoke that into existence the universe lined up to help me. I got out of the job that wasn't acting, got my unemployment coming in, and started auditioning for roles.

They say that in your first year of acting, you can go on a hundred auditions, get twenty call backs and get cast in one thing. They say that you wont start making any money until the middle of your second year, and you wont have an agent until your third year. However, in my first year of acting I went to around 60 auditions, got cast in over twenty-five projects, started making some real money as an actor and got my own agent. This is how I know I am on the right path. This is how I know that I am meant to be an actor.

So for now, I am working boring meaningless office temp jobs that pay the bills while going on auditions, but I am not looking for a "job" or a "career" anymore. I don't belong in an office anymore than a wild animal does. I am an artist. Which means a life of blissful struggle. And if I'm going to have to struggle, I best be doing what I love in the mean time.

"Life is a Struggle
Triumph or Defeat is in the hands of God
So, let us celebrate the struggle"
 - Swahili War Song

The Happy Single Choice

I spent the majority of my adult life alone.

In a relationship with one person, me.

I served in the military and learned discipline, organization and how to behave like a man. I read hundreds of books every year. I listened to countless new albums and artists. I saw movies, plays musicals and even a couple concerts. I went places, hung out with lots of friends. I traveled and had friends that sent me plane tickets to far off places to come see them. I knew someone everywhere I went, and when I didnt, someone usually recognized me... It's true that it was commonly heard in the Castro in the early 2000's "I'll just meet you at Shane". When I moved to SF, I became my brother in High School, cool and popular. Finally.

Dont get the wrong idea... While I did usually tend to be surrounded by a shocking number of hot beautiful young boys that knew me and hung out with me... I was not sleeping with any of them (well, I mean, one or two here and there...). Their desire to be around me was simply because I was a funny genuine guy who wasnt trying to sleep with them and could remember their names and things about them. I know, it was a lot to remember before Friendster came around...

So, looking back on my mid 20's to mid 30's I had a pretty damn fine social life. I had been the CEO of two local arts organizations. I had a wide circle of people that I saw on a monthly basis, and worked with. Shit man, I even have the Key to the City of SF on my wall!! Id say all in all, I had a really good life. With one major exception.

Love.

Notice I didn't say Love and Sex. I had no problems finding a guy for a night or two or even a whole weekend for some knock down drag out sex. That wasn't the problem. I dreamed of the fairy tale relationship. And I readily admit that at the end of my 20's I had gotten quite bitter about the fact that every single one of my hot friends can get into a relationship just going to the corner store, but here I was the "greatest friend anyone could ever ask for", turning 30 and had never been on a proper date with anyone.

It was because I was chubby, and sad as it is, the gay community has rampant vanity issues. More often than not if a hot guy with muscles was looking in my direction it was because all my friends are hot guys with muscles and you can find me above the crowd. I was, sadly, the dorky, chubby, not so stylish older brother type that everyone always wanted, and no one ever admitted to wanting to sleep with. And I was very aware of this aspect on the gay community as all my hot friends ended up dating hot built versions of themselves with different heads!!! Arg!!!! Like I said... I was a little bitter about it all...

Well... I turned 30 without ever having dated a guy. And that night, my friend Jason gave me a shirt that he made me, that I still wear to this day. It had a raw human heart placed over my chest and writing that said "It's nice to finally feel my (heart diagram) again". I love that shirt. And my birthday wish that night was to stop being bitter about being single and just choose happiness whenever possible. And that actually did the trick. Every time I had a bitter thought about being single, I reminded myself to instead choose being happy about being single and lo and behold, over time and ceaselessly telling myself this, I became a happier person.

And I grew to really love the adult that I had become. I was smart, well liked, well regarded, popular, genuine, friendly authentic and truly living in the moment with everyone I met. And there was nothing that was missing in my life that another person could bring that I couldn't get for myself. I spent a lot of time alone with myself and I got down to the heart of who I am as a person. I realized that happiness and joy in life are generated completely by me, and that I wont ever need another human being to be able to experience those things because I can cause them in myself.

And then, at 33, I was introduced to the Bear Community and I met my first boyfriend.

He is a wonderful person and we are still good friends and hang out with the dogs. We genuinely want nothing but the best for each other. We just weren't good together as a couple. After all, not every love story is an epic. Some are short and sweet. We were together for just over 5 years, and like everybody else, we had our ups and downs, our good times and bad times, and quite a few downright fucking fantastic times. It was the perfect first relationship.

Its been a year since we split up, and the idea of dating again just boggles my mind. I cant even comprehend how people just bounce from one relationship to the next to the next without a second to think or decompress. I wasn't even willing to meet someone out for coffee for the last year, let alone an actual date, and now that I've been out a couple times, I'm clearer than ever. I DO NOT want to date again. I don't want to be in a relationship again. I want to be single, and on my own. For a long while.

And what's even weirder, I've grown from that awkward chubby older brother into a full fledged legitimate man over the last five years. I don't mean that like I grew up and took responsibility or anything silly... I mean that I grew from a chubby boy with rolls into a man with a barrel chest. My upper body filled out and my posture became more erect, I've had a beard for the last five years and I feel good about myself and my confidence is very high and I feel like I am right now, the most attractive man I have ever been in my life and I have zero use for it because I have no interest in dating anyone.

I cant tell you if this is a forever feeling. I just cant imagine the idea of being with anyone other than me again. I know me. I know how to fix and heal and help me. I know how to make me happy, every time, without fail. And after having been in my first  relationship, the most terrifying thing that I took away from it is how much of myself and the things I love I am willing to give away and put on the shelf to make someone else happy. I would give up almost everything to make the person I'm with happy. Without a second thought to myself.

While some people say "that's what you do when your in love", I was too willing and it was too easy to disappear into that idea of making someone else happy. And after all the time I had spent becoming this fully evolved man that I loved, I realized that I was a better human being when I was on my own. I was better for myself, I was a better friend, I was more devoted to my passions. I was happier alone. I don't want to be a person that devolves into an us again. I gave five good years to a good man, and while I do not regret any of it and would not change it, I would rather spend that same amount of time putting in that kind of love and effort following the dreams that I almost gave up on. Why does someone else deserve that kind of love and attention when I don't even spend it on myself anymore?

I'd rather spend it on myself. Call me selfish. I'd rather follow my dream and make a choice to be happy single, than try to make sure someone else is. And this isnt going to be an easy path for me, no one reaches for the stars without getting singed a bit. I cant try and drag someone along and hope and pray that they understand and are willing to be patient while I work on my dreams. I have to do this for me, no one is going to follow my dreams for me, and no one should have to wait around not living their life while waiting for me to get somewhere. Because if I succeed and I actually reach my dream, I'll never stop moving.

The comfort that I have is that I can still have the things that you think are needed for a happy couples life. I have my eight or so good friends that I can have the deepest most meaningful conversations with, as you would with a spouse. I have one or two regular gentlemen callers of a like mind that I see on occasion for the physical needs that one fulfills with a significant other. I have a couple friends that love to cuddle during a movie. I have a huge family and community of chorus members, fellow artists, musicians, actors, philanthropists and working stiffs that number in the hundreds. I can walk outside right now, and I will, without doubt run into someone I know. Being this person, this makes me happy.

I can choose a happy life where I am in control of my future. I can choose to follow my dream with no abandon or fear, because doing anything less is shameful and a wasted life. And I can choose the single life because it is what is best for me and because it is my choice to make.

To catch you up...

Yeah... I know... it's been a while.

And trust me... there is a shit load I need to catch you up on. I seriously have 42 started but unfinished blogs to publish... But that would take forever and honestly, I dont even know if anyone reads this thing anymore I've been gone so long. So, lets get on with it... to make it short, I'm going to start at the end, and go backward. So,  lets talk about the last year. Here's where I've been...

I've officially been single for a year. After coming to a mutually agreeable ending Danny and I officially stopped being a couple (in my mind) last November 7th, 5 years and two months after we met and started dating. I remember the day so well because it was also the day we got evicted from my wonderful home on Castro.

Yeah... that happened. I'm still raw about it. It was the longest place I had ever lived in my life. It was my first HOME. I still look up every time I'm in the neighborhood. It was empty for a long while in city time, but there are curtains now... But I still have the urge to throw things at the building when I'm near it, so I tend to stay on the other side of the street. The eviction is a long story and took 11 months in court battles before I ultimately lost.

Things got out of my grip and I couldnt hold all the strings together anymore. I had three roommates that stiffed me on a months rent and a couple months worth of bills all within about 7 months of each other, I lost my job and started temping again... I covered people more that I was able to and it eventually cost me the house. And I fought like hell, but sometimes the cards fall the other way.

After dropping Danny off at Bart to go home to his parents place in the east bay, AJ drove me down to his place in San Jose where I would stay with Jinx (my dog... oh yeah, I got a dog!!) until I could find a new place to live. I stayed there for a month, all the while working 7 days a week at two jobs for a year straight with no break (except the weekend I had to move of course). I commuted up to 4 hours a day and worked 8 hours a day. It nearly killed me, but I needed the money to stay afloat.

Oddly enough, the same week I lost my eviction case I also got offered a really great job at the place where I had been temping since my last lay-off. They brought me on and that paycheck was everything. After the month at AJ's I couldn't handle the commute any longer and for Christmas Danny and I stayed together with our dogs at Chad Fox's legendary pad in north beach. And as corny and disgusting as it sounds, the blinking lights from all those titty bar marquee's really made the mood in the air feel like a little magic Christmas... you know, from the right angle... above, without a clear line of sight. Anyways, it was a nice holiday after the rough go it had been. After that I found a cheap ($450 a week) and surprisingly nice hotel downtown to stay in while I kept looking for a room.

Danny had Jinx in the east bay at his mom's and it was utter hell trying to find a room to rent that would take a dog let alone getting her to the interview with me... anyways I didn't find a place until February, when my best friend Steph made the decision to move to Portland with her wife Jen. They needed to save some money and just happened to have a room to rent for me and Jinx. So from February through August I lived in that sweet odd little flat commonly known as "the Whorehouse", being treated like a right proper gay husband married to a good southern baptist housewife, who made me breakfast before work and had cocktails in the making when I got home. It was quite possibly the very thing that saved me.

When they moved to Portland I moved over to Liz and Shelly's place on Church and Market where they happened to have a room to rent for a short period of time... And thats where I am as I sit here typing. Oh... the other stuff...

So, while I had the good job, was making some extra money and living with Steph I decided to start taking this singing class that she has always been telling me about but I never had the money to go to. I started taking class at the Shari Carlson Studio in April and it was good and challenging. My vocal range grew, my abilities grew, and most interestingly, she began working with my entire body as an instrument and I have had astronomical growth since. It's an amazing studio, highly recommended. So for the last six months I have been taking two singing classes and one acting class a week. Because I remembered that I could sing, and I really did love it...

Then in May, my cousin Zach died at the age of 20. I dont know why it hit me so hard other than he was the first of my generation to die young. He and I had been facebook friends for a few years, having been seperated by time and space for most of his life. He was an amazing kid though, just... he drew you in and you were hooked. It's kind of like how you feel when you look at the sun, the warmth, the brightness, the joy... He died doing what he loved. Rock climbing. I feel robbed that I never got to spend the time that we were promised getting to know each other as family.

The next night in class I sang a song for him, "Bring him Home", from Les Miz. I've never preformed a song like that before, and I may never be able to draw that raw live emotion to the front again, but I cried like I hadn't in years, while singing in a tear wracked falsetto, my entire way through that song. There wasn't a dry eye in the the room and thats when I realized, this is what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm supposed to be an actor. I'd almost let the dream go. I'd almost settled for almost, and at that moment I realized how close I had come to putting it all down and walking away. And I decided that if I were to die young, I want to have done what I love.

Since May... I've been in two webseries pilots. Seven short films. Three stage plays. Four commercials and next week I am going to get an agent.

So... All caught up? I know... the other 42 articles, I'm on it! Did I mention that I finally got a computer again... thanks Mom.