New direction…same person

Recently, I was stitting around, contemplating my blog here at The Gay Life of a Country Boy and its accompanying podcast. I guess this is my moment to do some clearing up. And some of the clearing up could be called appologies.

Let me start this by explaining “country”. A definition of the word is “pertaining to the regions remote from a city; rural; rustic; as, a country life; a country town; the country party, as opposed to city.”  The Urban Dictionary defines a country person as “a hardworking person who lives outside town and speaks with a long, soft southern drawl.”  That’s a bit closer. My own personal definition for the term is “a place, not inside a city/town limit, where a more quiet lifestyle is observed and where farming and agricultural products are produced. Also, pertaining to a more wooded, forest area.” A country person would of course be “someone who prefers the lifestyle, culture, and practices observed in a country setting over those in an urban or city setting.”

I believe I might have mislead some people in thinking that to be country, you have to do a certain set of things. This was not my intention. I grew up in a community made entirely of dirt roads, cow pastures, gardens, and pine trees. My family did have gardens, had cows and chickens, and revered the quietness of country life. Fishing, hunting, and other outdoor activities were done, but these did not make me country. What made me country was my love and acceptance of a more slow and laid back way of thinking, without the headaches and the rushing so associated with the city. The nearest city, Mobile, was an hour and a half away. Some influences made their way up to where I lived but not enough to make any real difference.

I read something not long ago, a comment on a post on Facebook, that made me second guess this blog and it’s direction. This guy made a comment about something he used to do on his parent’s farm. Throwing bales of hay I believe it was. When I said I never had to do that, he replied that he thought I was a country boy. That comment disturbed me all evening. Being country is not because of something your parents make you do. My parents made me cut grass. My father made me walk behind his tractor when plowing the garden. My father made me help him drag a deer he had killed out of the woods, across a branch. My father made me help spread fertilizer in a field so that grass would be grown for deer hunting. Neither of these actions made me country. The eventual realization that I liked this or that I took something with me from doing this made me country. Did the fact that I spent a good part of my early childhood without indoor plumbing help in making me country? I believe I can own that.

As much as I love to fish, go camping, go hiking, or anything taking place outdoors, none of this makes me country. Being country is a feeling deep inside my heart and soul that tells me where I belong. Living close to a large metropolitan area has its advantages, no doubt about that, but the city is not me. It’s too fast for me. Too confusing. Too drama filled. We live more in the country than in the city….by about 20 to 30 miles or more. That’s fine with me. There are trees all around and a large lake and only minutes from the Appalachian Mountains. I feel like I belong. It’s not Alabama, but it’s darn close here in North Georgia.

So where does this take me in the future of the blog/podcast? I am going to do my best to be Wes. I am going to be the man I am, not trying to put on a facade for purposes unknown. I am a gay guy that likes to me loud sometimes with friends.  I like to talk about different things that may not be considered country by most…especially not by the “good ole boys.” Every country place has gay men. We are all around you. The one thing that’s a bit strange to you is that we are, for the most part, just like you, except that we like dick. And that girl sitting beside you….well, she ain’t lookin’ at you, big boy. She’s eying your wife.

From now on, you are going to see and hear from me. We bought a compatible camcorder the other day, so I am ready to do some vidcasting. I’ll be getting set up to do that shortly. Get ready, cause here I come.

One Comment

  1. I find your definitions of country interesting. I grew up in Hawaii. I grew up on a beach. I did not raise farm animals or produce farm goods. I did not follow a tractor and rarely mowed tha lawn. Yet if you have been to Hawaiil, you will realize that where I grew up is “country”. Country is a way of life. A laid back style of living. My parents live that lifestyle. Today, I choose to live in one of the biggest craziest cities in the world– New York City. It is not that I have turned my back on my roots, it is that I know my humble beginnings very well that I can survive in a big city and know where my true home always is… in the country.

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