Base: 1½ cup crushed gingersnap cookies
½ cup soft (not melted) butter
Mix together, then press into bottom of buttered 9” glass pan. Chill.

Filling:
750grams cream cheese (softened)
1 cup white sugar
4 eggs
1 pkg of Oetker almond pudding powder (can substitute 3 tbsp natural yogurt)
1½ tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. ground cloves
½ tsp. nutmeg
½ tsp. allspice
1½ cups cooked pumpkin, well drained (can substitute with canned pumpkin)
1 shot of rum or brandy

Beat cream cheese until fluffy. Slowly beat in sugar, then eggs – one at a time as you continue beating. Beat in pudding powder (or yogurt). Gradually beat in spices. Beat in rum or brandy and pumpkin at the end (until mixed but not completely disintegrated).

Pour mixture over crust.

Bake in pre-heated 300F oven for 1½ to 1¾ hours. *Place pan full of hot water in oven during baking to make cake more moist.* Cool cake in pan for 1 hour, then refrigerate overnight.

For best taste, remove from fridge 2 hours prior to serving.

Try it out… and enjoy

I have come to terms with the fact that changes will happen. Some changes I pursue, and I prepare myself for. Some changes are a bit a lot more unexpected, and so are a little harder to understand and accept. Change is good, sometimes. Other times it is the only option; so I can let myself get down and be unhappy, or I can accept the fact that every experience I’ve had in my life, good or bad, makes me a stronger person.

With change comes imperfection. Being a Virgo, imperfection is extremely hard and scary to cope with. I had this plan of what my life would be like by the time I’m 30. The blueprint was created in my mind, step by step, brick by brick: all placed in the right spot, building a proper foundation. They were the perfect dreams of the naive me. A perfect life that doesn’t exist, because life is never perfect. You can work as hard as you can, and give as much of yourself as you have in you to give, and you may create a life that comes close to your ideal; honestly, it’s more likely you changing your ideals in order to fit this imperfect life, so that you can justify your actions and say “yes, I am living life the way I want to.” Are you really?

Am I 100% happy? That is a question that is hard to answer. I can honestly think of times in the past week where I could say, yes, I was 100% happy with myself, with my life, and the people in my life. But I could not say that I was 100% happy, 100% of the time. Happiness is hard to measure overall, because it is not a lasting feeling. Even the happiest person in the world will have moments in their lives when they’re not fully happy because that’s not how life is. Life is full of up and downs, and happiness fluctuates along with those movements. Overall I can say I’m happy, but I’m smart I’m delusional I’m courageous enough to admit there’s always room for improvement.

Back to change and imperfection. I am starting to realize that I was wrong to assume the first 25 years of your life shape who you are for the rest of it. Only a few years after, I realize that the experiences in my life and the people who come in and the people who go out of it, still continue to influence me. I lost a big part of the person that I was a few years back, and I continue to see this person I’ve become evolving into someone else. Moving in all kinds of different directions (sometimes trying to do them all at once). Growing apart from someone who I loved. Becoming more self involved, self-righteous. Growing, and finding myself confused on which path in life to take, like a lost teenager that can’t figure out his future.

I can’t fully figure out my future; I have a general idea of the things I want to accomplish in the years to come, but can no longer see the exact steps to take. Can’t figure out which bricks to lay where, nor when. Nor how.

And changes I can’t control keep making it all the more difficult to know which step to take: family, friends. The loss of certain feelings and the creation of other emotions, that are unattainable. Love and loss. Loss and love. And loss again. So many paths to take, and I find myself walking down the paths that I know won’t lead to a happy ending. Been down similar paths before and I am well aware of how it all ends. It ends with me being hurt, but I can’t help but pursue those paths over and over again.

But such is life: imperfect. And the scars I get along the way will continue to create the amazing, unique me that I’ll be in the future. And maybe then I’ll realize that I wouldn’t have had my life any other way. Making the wrong decisions, taking the wrong steps. Traveling and meeting people. Making and losing friends and lovers. Loving, laughing, hurting, crying.

Enjoying life, and it’s imperfection.

This is the most energy I’ve ever seen her have, and even though I wasn’t rooting for her during the show, I can now understand why RuPaul chose her for the crown.

Picture taken in Stanley Park, during a stop of our limo drive over to the ball. As usual, the ball was an awesome event at a new venue (Rocky Mountaineer Station, instead of the Commodore Ballroom, where it was held the last few years).

The food was alright, service a little slow, but the company (great flighties I work with and our partners) awesome, making up for it!

Pretty for the Ball

Now for those who don’t know, in Spanish,  the addition of “ito” at the end of a word or a person’s name (or “ita” in the case of a girl), means the object or person is small or young, but is used as a term of endearment towards a person as in ClausITO – that’s where my pseudonym comes from!

This is “Clausito” literally:

Dia del Niño 2010 (Me as a baby)

I will soon be updating a lot. I not only want to update regarding the city destinations (as in other travel entries I’ve done before); I also want to write about the airline (Korean Airlines), as well as about the different hotels we stayed at, as I think these reviews will be helpful to other people planning on visiting Japan in the future and doing research on their accommodation (I sure could have used some help during planning!).

For now, I still need to organize my pictures, clean up the mess in my room, and finish 3 weeks worth of laundry from the trip. All I will say for now is that the trip was awesome, and Japan exceeded my already high expectations!

Thanks as usual to my readers

President Obama is pushing for a controversial Healthcare reform system that will entitle every American to proper healthcare. Republicans  have criticized the initiative, stating that it is based on the communism ideal that everyone works together for the benefit of everyone else. I understand that conservative views are against communism as a whole, but this specific ideal (related to the well-being of the  people) is not only very fair to everyone, but should also be considered a basic right of humanity.

Living in Canada, where we have a healthcare system, I can say it is very beneficial.

The main opponents of the health care reform seem to be right-wing, white, upper class and upper-middle class people. Why? Because they happen to be the ones who benefit from the lack of a health care system (as in the case of hospital owners / insurance brokers / corporations / pharmaceutical companies / investors), and if not, they happen to be people well enough that they can afford the best without any waits; good for them, but what about the other 80% of the people in the country?

I’m not rich, but I make enough money that I could afford the heavy doctor and hospital bills should I need to pay in case of an emergency; however, I much prefer paying my monthly premium (which comes right out of my pay cheque along with other taxes) and knowing that no matter what happens, no matter the cost, my healthcare system will take care of me without making a huge negative financial impact from which I may never recover. Seeing as how so many people are not in the same financial situation as I am, I am proud to live in a  country where everyone will have proper access to healthcare simply by being a citizen who contributes to this society.

Does a healthcare reform have a bad side? Yes.
The main issue is that, since everyone will have access to doctors and hospitals, waits will become longer; this is why people who have more money than they will ever spend in their lifetime are so opposed to a healthcare reform: because they rather spend the money, selfishly keeping all attention to themselves, while those who are not as well-off die and suffer, not being able to afford the outrageous bills of the current healthcare system in the USA.
The reality now is that millions of Americans go though life without treating or even addressing any health problems, ranging from basic sicknesses and injuries to life-threatening diseases, because they do not have coverage they need through work or otherwise.
What you need to ask yourself is: What kind of society have we become, if we are unwilling to allow everyone the opportunity to take care of their health and LIVE, based on the amount of money they have?
If we have lost all disregard for the well-being and life of others, then we have bigger issues to consider.

The decision is now not only in the hands of the politicians. Every American individual has the power to call their government representatives and speak their minds on this issue, and hopefully make a difference in the shaping of their country.

I strongly believe that healthcare is everyone’s basic right, not just that of the rich and powerful. I personally will be very disappointed if the American public chooses to reinforce the stereotype of Americans being selfish and unintelligent, by choosing  to deny a healthcare reform that is fair to everyone.

Last monday (1st of March 2010) I was asked by my Area Leader and my Team Leader to apply for a position as the new Team Leader (aka. Manager) at the Flight Centre at Lonsdale Quay.

I have been doing so well at my own store for the past year, reaping in the rewards from repeat clients and from my store doing so well (got compensation for being the Assistant Manager), that I really didn’t think I wanted the change. Going to a new store means losing a lot of my clients, and as this store is not performing too well (especially compared to my own store, which has been performing amazingly in the past year). I was comfortable in the spot where I was, but somehow my manager talked me into it, and I ended up convincing myself that this was going to be the best next move in my career.

I went in for an interview with my Area Leader and the Regional leader for Western Canada last Friday. By the time I actually applied top the job, I had psyched myself up for it. After researching the store, I wrote a very concise and straight forward business plan on what I want to implement in the new store to lead it into profit.

After a bit of waiting, today I finally got the call, letting me know that I had been chosen for the position. I also got comments from both my Area Leader and the Regional Leader telling me that I was great at the interview and I actually impressed them – something that makes me feel really good!

I am so passionate about my company that I can honestly say that there is no better person than me for this store. The new shop will be a challenge, but I truly believe that I can turn it around and lead my store to success. I feel I have everything it takes to motivate the team and drive business in through our doors!

Looking forward to this new chapter in my career. I will be starting on April 1st 2010. I am sad to be leaving my team behind as I absolutely love them, but  this is the next step in the right direction for  my personal development in my career.

And this might seem insignificant, but after working in a mall shop for over 2 years, I am really looking forward to having windows that look into the outside. Not only can I see the sun (or rain, heck, whatever I can get as long as I can see natural light!), but we have one fo the most beautiful views of the downtown Vancouver skyline from there!

Lonsdale Quay, here I come. Let’s make this a great new challenge!

If anyone asked me one week ago where I saw myself in one year, I would have very likely told them I saw myself standing comfortably exactly in the same spot as I was right then.

I had become a little too comfortable where I was in my life; opportunities came and went without me ever really taking a second glance because I thought I was in the place I wanted to be. And I was. Good place, comfortably doing my own thing, accepting the routine.

Yes, I am guilty of being a little afraid of change. But now I may be taking a big leap completely out of my comfort zone into something that will be quite different. And I’m actually very excited about it!

Good or bad? I think it’ll be good. I have faith that I am in a place in my life where I can really make things happen. If it doesn’t work out the way I plan, what’s the worst that can happen? I will learn a lesson, dust myself up, and try again!

Let’s see how this change goes.

Riddled? Not if you follow me on twitter; just can’t get into it too much yet

Yet I’m happy to say I continue to get about 20 – 70 hots on my blog every day, so thank you!

To keep it a bit more interesting, I’ve opened a Formspring.me account, so anyone can ask me anything. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer every question asked, but I’m pretty open, so chances are I will.

So until I write something else (hopefully will get inspired before my Japan trip in April 2010!) – ASK ANYTHING!

Thats Awkward Ep02

Thats Awkward Ep01

Thought I`d share pictures of the costumes

I have experienced multiple astral catalepsies during my life. Up to a couple years ago, I had had maybe three or so; yet, in the past 2 years I can count at least 8 times when I have had it. I guess in a way it’s cool to know my spirit might be leaving my body, going somewhere it clearly deems more entertaining than staying inside my sleeping body. However, for anyone who’s ever had one, especially if it is your first time or if you are unfamiliar with the reasoning of these episodes, it can be a very scary experience.

The reason why astral catalepsies are frightening, is because they often are associated by our brains with feelings of uselessness, the inability to protect ourselves from an overwhelming feeling of evil surrounding us.
Some of the experiences you might feel when you are having an astral catalepsy includes:
*The sensation that a threatening presense, some kind of evil shadow or dark figure slowly moves towards you.
*The feeling of being pinned down into your bed. The unability to move, talk, or scream for help.
*Overwhelming vibrations, as if some one, or something, was shaking you with incredible force.

The sensation that an evil force is approacing your paralyzed body, and that you are unable to defend yourself nor call for help is very frightening; the feeling will usually last what feels like a minute or two (although I’m sure it’s only about 30 seconds – your own fear makes it seem like it will never end).

My Experiences:
In my case, astral catalepsies are usually associated with darkness. Just before having the astral catalepsy, I have a dream in which I am in my room, or at another room, usually in my house on a dark day. It doesn’t necessarily look like night, more like a really dark, stormy day. As I walk in the darkness, I begin to feel chills going through my body as I begin to feel fear; an urgent need to turn on a light comes over me, but as I click the light switch on, nothing happens. I try multiple times, unsuccessfully to turn on the light, as the fear begins to fill inside my body, I know something bad is going to happen, but I don’t know what.

All of a sudden, before whatever force is after me reaches me, I wake up and am lying on my bed, my heart beating after a horrible nightmare, thanking God that I am awake from it now. Except, I’m not really awake. This is the point when I am unable to move. Sometimes I will look towards my window and see a large shadow, slowly creeping towards me. Sometimes I don’t see the shadow, but I know that an evil presence is in my room, coming towards me. Again, I unsuccessfully try to move. I want to be able to stand up and defend myself. I want to loudly knock on the wall and wake someone else to come help me. I want to scream for help, as a last resort, but I am unable to move or talk. I just lay there, feeling the weight of my body holding me down on my bed as the threatening presence gets closer and closer.

My body begins to shake violently. I feel ever muscle in my body spasm. Then I wake up again, my heart beating. I thank God once more for the nightmare being over; this time I am awake for real.

Before I learned what an astral catalepsy really is, I used to be extremely afraid of these experiences. I would wake up and be genuinely afraid, too afraid to even get out of bed and turn on the light, even though it was the darkness that I was so afraid of. I guess in a way I was afraid that I would try to turn on the light and it would not work, and I would go through the whole thing again.

Now that I know what these experiences are, I have learned to be less afraid of them. The first parts of the dream will still usually occur: the overwhelming feeling that i need to turn on a light on a gloomy day, and the fact that I am unable to get the lights to go on no matter how much I play around with the switch. Yet, as intense fear begins to fill my body, I always remember that I am only in a dream. The last few times I had an astral catalepsy (the last one being last week), I was able to calm myself down; I now instantly go to the part where I am laying in bed, unable to move, waiting for my spirit to return to my body, but the whole thing with the evil presence does not occur anymore. I wait patiently, still about 30 seconds or so, feel my body shake violently, and then I am awake.

The explanation of astral catalepsies is interesting. It is interesting to know (if you believe) that your spirit will leave your sleeping body to travel astrally once in a while. It really makes me wonder where my body might be going whenever I have them. One thing I still don’t understand is the feelings of evil that are associated with astral catalepsies. If an astral catalepsy is the result of such a freeing activity for our spirits, why are all the symptoms so frightening – not only regarding the presence approaching us (which could be explained as our own spirits coming towards our body after their astral travels), but the fact that the approaching force feels so threatening, so evil.

At any rate, I am glad that I now understand a little more about astral catalepsies and that I no longer feel the fear, or sense the threatening feelings.

Lady Boy

Grabbed a pen, couldn`t think of anything to draw, so i drew someone who was clearly inspired by Ongina from Rupaul`s drag race; I will name this masterpiece Lady Boy, in her honor.

Few people have touched my heart through a reality show like Ongina did when she announced that she was HIV positive. Her honesty and her pain was truly heart breaking, and it`s a moment I`ll never forget.

This one`s for you, Ongina.

It was only March 2009 that I joined Twitter, after much convincing from my boyfriend.

At first, I simply had no interest in tweeting. I was starting to lose my interest in facebook (an interest which now has been renewed), and i figured that I would be a lot more productive if I didn’t have twitter to take my free time. Eventually I gave in, and now, thanks in large part to my iPhone, i check Twitter multiple times a day.

I have to admit that Twitter caused a bit of insecurity. I tried unsuccessfully to connect with many people, most of which either never followed back or simply would never reply to my tweets. At one point I wondered what the hell is wrong with me?! what was it about my personality that made people have no interest at all in what I have to say.  Maybe people have better things to do than read what i tweet.

After a little while I actually stopped trying. It still bothered me  that people weren’t interested, but I figured there was nothing I could do. People could either like me or not and the decision was up to them. And then I wondered Why do I  even care so much? I have a boyfriend… I have my own friends. Why did i care so much that someone I would never meet in my life wasn’t interested in making a connection? There was no answer, so i took it personal, and it did affect me.

Then there were the people who I did make connections with. Little by little I got to know people. It was mostly small talk, chit chatting about work, or school, or play. Back and forth we talked about things, and I slowly felt new friendships being born. And then one day, my “friends” left twitter, and never returned. And I felt left out, because I thought that a friendship was being made, and suddenly, no word from them, and no way to contact them to see what was up. And I wondered again how can someone just leave? It’s not about leaving twitter. But what about the connections you make? Was this totally a one-sided relationship? Did I think we were becoming better friends than we really were? And again, there was no answer.

Overtime it started to dawn on me that unfortunately, Twitter was not really made with the intention of connecting people. It was all about saying things we wanted to say, much more than reading what others have to say. It was a way to superficially communicate with other people, famous or not, and simply tweet. There is no responsibility on what you say. In my case, most people I know in real life are not on twitter, so I can speak my mind without fear of being judged; and if I am being judged, it is by people I don’t know, so I don’t have to care.

But then I began to lose interest; I felt that everyone was too into what they were saying, that very few people were actually reading and commenting on other people’s tweets. I wanted to connect with people and make what at least I thought might be a real friendship. And then a new question entered my mind. What is the point? Everyone is just tweeting, but no one is reading anymore. So in a way, we are only tweeting to ourselves. What is the point?

And then I began to unfollow people. I figured: if someone has no interested in making a connection, Why am I still following every single thing they do? I didn’t care anymore. Why should I care? One by one all the people who had never even bothered to follow back were taken off my list. Over time some more were added, and then some more were taken off. Every so often, I still go into my ‘following’ list and, if someone who tweets often isn’t following me back after a while of me following them, I get rid of them.

Recently I found out that I am not the only one going through these insecurities. I have learned that some other people, like me, were taking it personal whenever the connections they worked on came to an abrupt end, or when people they wanted to connect with had no interest in connecting with them. I guess, afterall, we are all human; whether we are meeting people in real life or through our computers, we are all making connections with each other. Likewise, whether it is in real life or through the computer, the people we meet will affect our lives, bringing happiness and joy, or pain and sorrow. Wether or not we want to admit it, our twitter friends are helping shape our lives just as much as people we interact with in real life.

I have now noticed that little by little, my little circle of Twitter friends grew a little bit tighter. I don’t talk to everyone who I follow nor everyone that follows me – In reality I have no time to do that. But the people who I generally tweet with are actually somehow a part of my life.

I can count maybe 15 people with whom I tweet on a daily basis and I can honestly say i like these people. If we lived in the same city, I think we might get along. And maybe we wouldn’t, but in twitter we get along and we joke and we (or at least I), laugh, and that’s what’s important. They might not be the truest friends, but I genuinely care about what happens in these people’s lives, and I feel like, to some degree, they care about what happens in mine too.

And I have to admit that I’d be hurt if they left twitter and I never got to talk with them again, but I guess that’s the way life goes, both in real life and in twitter. And I am sure I will loose a few of them here and there. But no matter how long our twitter friendship lasts, these people have already made a big impact on my life.

And they will continue to do so.

No, not fuck. Come on, who gets offended by fuck anymore — and why should we? Fuck is simply another term for having sex, a perfectly normal human / animal action that everyone will experience in their lifetime (and if you don’t, you should!). The background of where fuck comes from is very natural; it comes from love, from passion, even from innocence. FUCKING comes from life itself.

The “F” that gets my blood boiling are the derogative names for gay individuals: Faggot, or the short form Fag. The reason why these words bother me (as a gay man myself) is because the meaning of the word has a horrible, violent background that stems from homophobia, discrimination, and sadly, death.

Before I go on I hope nobody gets offended by this post. YES, I am using the two words. I will not censor these words with little stars as in “f**” or “f*****” because they lose the effect. Yet, this is intended not to offend anyone, but to discourage the use of the word by any person, whether or not they approve of homosexuality, but who has a soul and at least an ounce of respect for human life itself. We are all adults here (and if you’re not you should be as I believe my blog is rated 18+), so we will continue with the full words.

“Fag” is a short form for “Faggot.” In case anyone is too naive to know what the real meaning of a faggot is, here is the definition as per the dictionary:

FAGGOT: a bundle of sticks or twigs, especially when bound together and used as fuel

The meaning of the words seems entirely innocent; hence its appearance in any standard dictionary. unfortunately, the meaning, when refered to gay men, has a darker, less innocent past: that “fuel” or those “faggots” were used in the past for burning gay people alive. These acts of violence and murder towards gay men for the mere fact of being gay were common practice in the North America (among other places) for tens of years. Over time, the term Faggot or Fag, for short, started being used to refer to gay people themselves.

It is not the word itself, but its violent and murderous roots which make these words unacceptable. They remind us that in the past, and even now to this day, gay people are being bashed and murdered for no other reason than because they happen to be attracted to people of the same sex. It reminds us of the violence we face every day, physical or mental. It reminds us of how dark and inhuman people can be towards anyone they deem ‘different.’

I personally think these are two highly offensive words, and don’t think anyone should use them, straight or gay, jokingly or not.

If you still don’t understand why this term (either the full word or the short form), which stems from full hatred towards, and symbolizes violence against gays, is offensive to gay people, I feel bad for your lack of empathy and social morale.

If this post taught you something, consider thinking twice before saying the word.

Please leave your comments, but be respectful! Derogative comments may be edited or removed altogehter.

I’m not even going to pretend that Mark and I were great friends. I knew him as Mark, the down to earth, giggly guy who always hung out with my friends and I, partying every Saturday night at my friend Sharli’s house. I never spoke to him or saw him outside of the weekly parties, even though I had his phone number in my phone for some time; yet, every weekend at those parties, we got along great, joked together, and enjoyed each others superficial friendship. Despite not being a great part of my life during his, his death had a big impact on me.

For months after Mark killed himself, I went through my life wondering how someone could so carelessly take their own life. To this day, it still doesn’t make sense to me how a seemingly normal person can take such drastic measures. I don’t even know if we, the people who were his friends, were unable or unwilling to notice that something was wrong. But even now, looking back, I cannot figure out what the hints that were supposed to tell us he might do something like that were. I don’t think there were any hints, and that is the scary part.
Mark was down to earth, quiet but funny. He joked around. He had a family, a stable job, an education. He hung out and partied, and he seemed just like another one of us, a young adult trying to figure out his life.

Maybe something was missing, but it clearly was not a cry for help. He didn’t do the usual fake-suicide attempts: taking 15 tylenol, or slashing his wrists with a butter knife. Mark had the full intention that, after his shift was over that night, his life would come to an end as well. No attempts to try and help, no psych wards, nor doctors, nor drugs. Just death.

And then things were never the same again. The weekly parties stopped for a few weeks, simply because everyone felt odd. And a couple of months later, when we got together again, no one spoke of Mark.
It was as if he had never been there, except there was an uncomfortable feeling in the air, like no one wanted to bring him up, but everyone knew we should at least talk about him. But no one ever did, not again.
And that was the last time I remember having a party there. Or maybe I just stopped going to the parties myself. At any rate, Mark’s suicide brought that chapter of all our lives to an end.

For some reason now, over five years later, the memory of Mark still enters my head from time to time, for no specific reason.

And thinking about it, I figure that if he was still alive, he and I would probably not be friends any longer; and maybe I would have completely forgotten about him by now. But for some reason, his death, even though nobody ever spoke of it, made him a little more memorable. And now he will always be a part of our memories, and our lives.

And that is sad.

I keep hearing on the radio and in the news about the shortage of blood supplies all over Canada. It seems that people are not interested anymore in giving blood for a variety of reasons – in my opinion it is such a small sacrifice to make (oooh, a needle), and which can have a HUGE impact in someone’s life (literally).

Donating blood at least once is on my list of 35 things I want to accomplish before I turn 35. I’m not kidding, I actually have such a list. I actually was days way from going to donate blood with my best friend at the time – she would be there for support only, unable to donate blood as she is diabetic. That’s when, while doing research I discovered I was not able to donate blood; not because I am not healthy, not because I have any genetic or blood diseases, tattoos, or unsuitable blood in any other way. I am unable to donate blood simply because I am gay.

According to Canada’s blood donation policies, any man who has had sex with another man since 1977 (the onset of AIDS), is banned from donating blood. Ever. No matter whether you have better sexual habits than other people. No matter if you had sex once in 1977 and haven’t since.

It’s not that I don’t understand their reasoning. It’s just that their ‘reasoning’ doesn’t make sense.

Under the Blood donation policy, a straight person who has had unprotected sex with someone who is confirmed to have an STD, is banned from donating blood too. After six months, however, if that person has changed his or her habits to use protection and has tested negative for any blood STDs, the individual will be able to try donating blood again.

If a person gets a tattoo or a piercing, they will also be unable to donate blood, based on toxins and possible infections that might arise from that. Again, this will only be for the next six months, after which the person will be able to donate blood again.

What about a woman who has had unprotected sex with a bisexual man, who in theory has just as much chance of contacting AIDS as a gay man having sex with that same man? The policy allows her to donate blood without any hiatus. Same goes for any straight individual whether or not they practice safe sex, as long as they are not aware that any of their many sexual partners might be infected, and no matter whether the individual has ever had a blood test or not. And if one of their partners is confirmed to have an STD but they practiced safe sex? That’s ok, Canadian Blood Services will take your blood!

Then comes me. Ok, at the time when I originally wanted to donate blood, I was sexually active and not in a stable relationship. However, I practiced safe sex and went for a blood test every 3 to 6 months (which is more than I can say for most straight people – or even gay people- i know). If the policy stated that anyone having sex with more than one partner in a specific period of time (say a year), whether safe or not, was unable to donate blood, I would have understood. But not being able to do so, despite my safe sexual habits, just because of my sexual orientation, doesn’t make sense.

And how about now. I have been in a monogamous relationship with my boyfriend for almost 3 years now. We both have had blood tests and know that we are healthy individuals, and we have a far lower chance from contacting any blood diseases than any straight individual with multiple sex partners. Yet, we are still not able to donate blood under the illogical, extremely anti-constitutional policy of the Canadian Blood Services. And we probably never will be, unless the people in charge put on a brain and realize that they are discriminating against an entire group of people who could highly benefit our diminishing blood resources.

I can guarantee that as soon as this illogical policy changes, I will donate blood. Until then, donating blood will remain uncrossed in my lists of 35 things to do before I am 35.

And everytime I hear in the radio that Canadian Blood Services is in dire need of blood donors, I will shake my head.

Click here to read the new controversial story that offset my rant.

This is the explanation of Canadian Blood Services for not allowing men who have had sex with other men (note they will not admit they are discriminating against gay men specifically) to donate blood:

Why do you not allow gay men the right to donate blood?

Canadian Blood Services’ policy indefinitely defers any man who has sex with another man, even once, since 1977. The policy in question does not apply specifically to gay men. This is one of numerous screening procedures which allow us to identify a variety of behaviours and activities known to increase risk to the safety of the blood supply.

The basic premise for our policy pertaining to men who have had sex with men is that the prevalence and incidence of HIV is much higher in males who have had sex with other males than it is in individuals having exclusively heterosexual sex. Statistics released by the Public Health Agency of Canada in 2005 indicate that men who have sex with men represented 58 per cent of the HIV/AIDS cases in Canada. This number is up from 2002, when they represented 40 per cent; and in 1996, when they represented 30 per cent of new cases of HIV/AIDS in Canada.

While we do test all units of blood and testing is sophisticated, there still exists a brief period after the onset of a viral infection during which early signs of a virus cannot be detected. This period of time is known as the “window period”. However, the system is as safe as current testing and technology allows, combined with Canadian Blood Services’ stringent screening processes (e.g., donor questionnaire, deferral policies).

We continually review our policies and procedures in the face of changing science and technology and as such we are conducting a risk assessment of this issue. Any change in donor criteria would have to be considered safe from a scientific perspective and be approved by our regulator, Health Canada.