The Burbs and The BF

FOOSBALLGATE or FML

2011-03-10T17:57:00.002-06:00

Fine. Fuck it. I may be too proud to post this on Facebook for the world to see, but no one reads this blog so it might just be safe here. Besides, this is the kind of thing that needs to go down in print because it's so fucking unbelievable.

I started working at a place I will call Death Masters on December 13th of 2010 after running screaming from the banality of my previous job. It was collections, sure, but a different kind of collections that was very soft. We were collecting on DEAD PEOPLE after all. It's not as morbid as it sounds. Oh wait... YES it was. The company offered a ton of perks but also had a reputation for canning people left and right. I made it through the hellish training (5 in my training class weren't so lucky) and was placed in my cube. I was right in front of the break room. I did pretty well the first month, with the fresh optimism of all newcomers. Then the other shoe dropped and dropped and dropped. I won't really get into that cuz, boring-ass bygones. I'll just get straight to the foosballs. There were several times during the day where the breakroom erupted with raucous cheering and crashing from the foosball table. Apparently, there was a group of nerds who took it incredibly seriously. It bothered everyone around me. They had no care for the people right outside the door. I heard a co-worker mutter that she would love to steal the damn balls and throw them away. (LIGHT-BULB) One night when I was particularly crabby I decided to do just that. I snatched the 3 foosballs and tossed em in the garbage. The next day, like clockwork, I heard a gasp and "OH NOOOO!" then blessed silence from the foosball crew. An email went out asking about the location of the foosballs and a plea for their return. Everyone got a good chuckle about it. Anyway, it seemed like it was over. The next day, a FURIOUS email came out from what can only be cosidered the nastiest, most ill-tempered Jabba the Hut who also happens to be the HEAD of the department I was in. See it (not verbatim) below:

WHOMEVER STOLE THE FOOSBALLS FROM THE FOOSBALL TABLE HAS UNTIL 4PM TODAY TO RETURN THEM!! WE HAVE A PRETTY GOOD IDEA OF WHEN THEY WENT MISSING AND WOULDN'T LIKE TO PULL THE SURVEILLANCE TAPES. PLEASE SAVE US THE TROUBLE!!

THE JOKE ENDS NOW!!!!!!

A ripple went out throughout the floor about what kind of fkng call center has surveillance cameras. So Big Brother was INDEED watching! WTF?!! I decided to do the right thing and dash out on my lunch break to the nearest sporting goods store and buy replacements. I bought a 6 pack of them and made sure to replace them. Sigh... It's over. Right? WRONG. The following day (today) I had an email from my supervisor (whom I was cool with and confided in abt it) that the foosballs I had purchased were not the right ones and asking if I could please purchase some more. Apparently, the ones I so carelessly tossed away had SENTIMENTAL VALUE!! Yes, folks, you read that right. SENTIMENTAL FOOSBALLS!!!

I planned (after much searching online) to hit up FOOSBALLS R US and get the best ones I could find, but to no avail. Within an hour I was called down to HR, fired for job performance, and led down the "stairs of doom". The one good thing I can surmise is that my supervisor did me a favor. I was let go for job performance rather than THEFT OF RECREATIONAL EQUIPMENT or whatever my crime was which means I am still eligible for unemployment.

How am I? Relieved. My 3 months there were not altogether unpleasant, but it is NOT the kind of company I can imagine experiencing any longevity with. They fired people left and right and the ones who weren't fired got discouraged and quit. It was a lot of stress working somewhere with such a revolving door and such a TYRANT behind the wheel of. I mean, the above email is not the ONLY hissy fit I experienced from that man and I was only there 3 months. Sheesh.

Quacking Quietly

2008-05-06T10:58:00.002-05:00

Wilbert is our lot duck. That's the best way to describe him. He has been hanging around in the parking lot here at our apartment building for the past month or so. He barely moves out of the way when you drive by. He seems to be on a first name basis with everyone in our rather large complex. He is one of those blazing-green mallards with bright orange feet. His inconspicuously-colored mate and probably her eggs secreted up in the rocks near the building. I found my heart going out to the dutiful partner; the singular monogamous devotion that is so rare in the animal kingdom. Truly, we can learn a lot from Wilbert, I thought. What a thankless job, parading around a parking lot trying to distract predators. It got to the point where I was so used to seeing him around, that I started looking forward to my encounters with him. I asked him what he thought about the economy once and he quacked quietly, which I think is the best response I have heard yet. In fact, the next time someone asks YOU about your financial situation, just quack quietly. It is the best response you can give. He had the same thing to say about the environment, the fate of polar bears and the ridiculous democratic in-fighting that just may lose them the next election and doom us to Republican tyranny for another four years. Yesterday as I was leaving for work I saw Wilbert sitting in the center of a parking space, unmoving, next to something. Knowing that this was approaching heartbreaking territory didn't stop me from walking forward. Sure enough, someone had flattened the female duck (she was a flat pile of tawny feathers) and Wilbert was still dutifully protecting her. I wanted to scream, punch someone, pick the poor animal up and comfort him, tell him that there are other fish in the… well, ducks in the pond and that it was a tragic accident that has no explanation. Parking lots are heartless, merciless places. Shaken to the core, I called the BF and explained what happened to poor Wilbert. He was heartbroken as well. I was on my way to the park and ride and there wasn't much I could do. I told the BF to do something, like call animal control. I didn't know if they would respond to the heartbreaking call or not, but I felt like we should do something. The BF explained that he would do something. Later I called to find out what that was. "I prayed for him," he said. That gave me pause. The cynical side of me jumped out with "Well that'll help." But there was serene silence from him in response. I amended that with "It can't hurt." It really can't. When I returned from spending twelve hours with my friend in the HCMC emergency room (exactly twelve years to the day when I was wheeled in there after being shot by my friend) I noticed that the female's remains were gone, and so was Wilbert. I hope he's okay. Maybe he found another female to watch over. He's really good at it. Maybe he jumped back into the pond to start all over like so many of us vow to do after losing a loved one for whatever reason. I know he's quacking quietly somewhere about the steady decline of the United States of America, like I plan on doing from now on.

Thank You, Constipation

2008-04-09T19:49:00.001-05:00

I woke up this morning with bowel issues. I don't want to get graphic about it. Let's just leave it at that. This was around 5AM. I normally get my ass out of bed around 7:00 and barely stumble to my car to be at the park and ride by 7:30. After the aforementioned issues, I tried to get back to sleep. Finally, disgusted, I dragged myself to the kitchen and for the first time in a very long time made coffee for myself and watched a little TV before work. I could feel something happening to me, like a veil lifting. When I closed myself in my bathroom and got in the shower, a remarkable clarity hit me full force. It was like I had been asleep for the last few months and I was finally awake. And I was horrified at the levels of downright self-debasing, self-pitying depression I have allowed to wash over me lately. I am stronger than this. I am better than this. I have been wallowing in my own misery to the point of throwing my hands up with the situation with my shitty job, neglecting friendships, not writing, procrastinating about school, being a hermit and fighting with The BF about stupid things. I even burst into tears, mid-discussion a few nights ago and started mentally sorting out our property, trying to figure out the best way to make an even split; all of that because he admitted to having doubts sometimes about our relationship. I immediately jumped to the THIS MEANS WE ARE BREAKING UP conclusion and started sniveling and picturing how it would happen. Good GOD! This person I have been over the past few months is NOT ME. I even came very close to calling and cussing out a very good friend for a foolish, insensitive comment she made. In my mind, for a few days, our friendship was over. What she had done was UNFORGIVEABLE.

I don't know if it was the coffee or the constipation, but something lit a fire under my ass today. I got off the bus that normally brings me to my work DOORSTEP and walked the last few LOOONG blocks, iPod blasting, with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. Me and Kylie Minogue almost beat the damn bus there. I charged into work full of confidence, shut out all the negative banter and gossip around me, took my hated job by the horns and kicked ASS at it. I did better than I have ever done today (113 checks). Our goal is 100 for the MONTH. I feel like an idiot for sitting around and complaining about it when if I just sat there and DID IT I would be successful.

Mark my words: My lazy ass will be getting up every day from now on for my morning cup of coffee. I think it is the key to my success.

100

2008-03-16T22:06:00.002-05:00

See a panda
Go to Seattle
Go to Europe
Pet a large cat of some kind
See a kangaroo
Go on a safari in Africa
See all Disney World Parks
Stay at a cabin in the woods during winter with a huge fireplace
Read a Charles Dickens book cover to cover
Go skydiving
Visit Eastern State Penitentiary
Visit New Orleans
Visit an actual historic plantation down south
Make a full turkey dinner for guests
See the Eiffel Tower
See Big Ben
Visit Auschwitz
Visit Salem, Massachusetts
Go on a tropical resort vacation
Go on a cruise
Watch "Brothers & Sisters" on DVD
See Old Faithful
See Mt. Rushmore
Visit Walnut Grove, MN
Write a full-length screenplay
See "Wicked"
Read "Duma Key" by Stephen King
See "Sex and the City" movie
Pet/hold a raccoon
Re-read "House of Leaves" by Mark Z. Danielewski
Read "Leaves of Grass" by Walt Whitman
Listen to a full album by Joni Mitchell
Take an acting class
Get married to Ian
Go to Switzerland
Live somewhere with central air
Buy a puppy
Buy a house
Get my degree
Spend the night at Waverly Hills Sanatorium in Louisville, KY
See the New York Museum of Natural History
See the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D. C.
Decoupage
Learn to knit
Get acupuncture
Have a drink at Alaska, a restaurant near me
Finish watching "Alias"
Have a picnic near a waterfall
Visit LA
Re-read the Landry, Hudson and Casteel Series by V. C. Andrews
Go to Canada
Drive a convertible during the summer with the top down
Re-read "Misery" by Stephen King
Finish the "Dark Tower" series by Stephen King
Win something
See a Cirque DuSoleil production
Spend the night at the Stanley Hotel in Colorado
Go to an Art Museum with Ian
Own "The White Album" by The Beatles
Commit to an exercise program
Get Miwu groomed
Babysit my sister's twins
Reconnect with my sister Tammy
Do karaoke
Learn to draw better
Nature photography
Volunteer somewhere
Get a piercing somewhere
Go camping again
Conquer my back pain
Go tubing down a river
See The Grand Canyon
Participate in a real ghost hunt
Swim in the ocean without freaking out
Touch a dolphin
See a red panda
Fly a kite
Watch "Dexter" on DVD
Learn to budget my money
Watch "True Blood" on HBO
Read "From Dead to Worse" by Charlaine Harris
Learn more about Nostradamus
Quit US Bank
Learn to grill really well
Learn to build a fire without using matches or a lighter
Visit Gettysburg
Take a photography class
Go hiking
See Mesa Verde
Learn to play a complicated song on the piano
Try living in another state
Read "The Alienist" by Caleb Carr
Read a book by Mark Twain
See a sporting event that isn't football or baseball
Buy new furniture
Buy a waffle maker
Visit my mom's cabin
Rent a cabin on a lake during the summer
Watch every Best Picture winner there is
Get a new cell phone

A Breakthrough

2007-12-27T20:25:00.001-06:00

I am reading a book called "The Mastery of Love" by Don Miguel Ruiz. One of the parts that I read recently was about how we should treat our partners no different than we treat our pets. No, we don't potty train them and put leashes on them and walk them. We give them unconditional love. We accept them as being dogs and cats because that is what they are. We need to accept our partners as human beings because that is what they are. For example, one of our recent disagreements was because he wanted to go out on a Sunday night during a snow storm when I had to work on Monday and he didn't. I wanted him to feel bad for leaving me behind because I thought that meant he would rather not spend time with me. Conversely, I was reading a book the other day and my cat Mimi was sitting beside me purring. At one point, she got up and scratched at the door to get out. I got up and let her out. Why? Because she's a cat and wanted to be in the other room. Did I get all weird and emotional because that meant she loved me less? No. She just didn't want to be around me right then and I didn't take it personally. Why can't I apply that same type of unconditional love to the situation with Ian? Why do I have to get all caught up and emotional? He didn't want to be around me right then and there's nothing wrong with that because humans feel cooped up sometimes and want to go out even when it seems like a bad idea.

One thing that struck me a few months back was an argument we had when we were drunk. Unfortunately, alcohol can be a truth serum sometimes and it can reveal the ugly truth. He said to me: "You love the cats more than you love me!!" It sounds absolutely ridiculous, but a part of me recognized it and it's through this book that I pieced it all together. He was telling me that I don't love him unconditionally. And compared to how I act with the cats, it is apparent. For example, if my cat Haxan jumps up on the counter and breaks a dish, I scold him and clean up the mess. Maybe I spray him with water. But two hours later when he jumps up on my lap and purrs, I am right back to loving him and cuddling him again. Why? Because he's a cat and cats break things sometimes. It's part of owning a cat and it isn't personal. He didn't think in his kitty brain that he wants to break that dish because he knows it will make me mad. He just wanted to be on the counter.

I remember being jealous of the cats I grew up with for the same reason. I felt that my mom loved them more than me because she loved them unconditionally. If they peed on the floor, she would scold them and then love them again an hour later because they are cats and cats pee on the floor sometimes. However, if I forgot to do the dishes or left a mess somewhere she would be mad at me all night or bring my mistakes up several months later to make me feel bad. I don't want anyone to feel that way, however irrational it sounds. When I walk in the door after a long day I rush to the kitties and hug them and pet them and always smile at them and am happy to see them, even if they made some kind of mess. I say "Hi babies! Hi sweethearts!" and they always rush to the door to greet me. But if he is sitting there I will just say "Hi." Why?! Am I any less happy to see him? No. I am MORE happy to see him, but my fear of judgment holds me back from showing him how much I love him. Why do human relationships have to be any different than the relationships we have with animals? Why is it so easy to love an animal without fear of judgment but we have such a fear of the same from our fellow human beings?

I plan to love him as much and more than I love my kitties. He brings just as much joy to my life as they do, and deserves all the attention and sweetness that they deserve for being kitties, because he is human. With all his strengths and weaknesses, joy and anger, he is human. And he is beautiful.

Love Your Failures

2007-12-21T23:18:00.001-06:00

We love our successes. We celebrate our successes. We pat ourselves on the back when we are successful but we also need to love our faults, our failures and our shortcomings. What is the obsession with perfection in this society? Perfection does not exist. It makes us a prisoner in our own minds; a victim to our failures. Failing and picking ourselves back up is part of life. More than that, it proves that you are alive. That you exist. That you breathe. So forgive your failures and shortcomings. They are part of what makes us human. They are beautiful. Our flaws make us individuals.

Thankful

2007-12-13T21:31:00.001-06:00

I'm thankful for clean drinking water, and purring cats; nature documentaries and a good scary movie. I'm thankful for the basic goodness in all people and the badness that is on display for my entertainment in the media. I'm thankful for family and friends and good food; mass transit and park & rides. I'm thankful for the clarity a cup of strong coffee or a few mixed drinks at the 90s seems to provide me. I'm thankful for a soft warm bed on a cold winter night. I'm thankful for the first delicate snowfall and the "Six Feet Under" box set. I'm thankful for walking into Target on Black Friday, avoiding the frenzy and walking out empty-handed. I'm thankful for the laughs and smiles of my niece and nephew; their pure innocence and their eyes filled with wonder at every new discovery that I take for granted. I'm thankful for no cable and DVR and the writing that pours forth from me when I'm away from TV. I'm thankful for writer's strikes and Netflix; my sister's free-range organic turkey and my boyfriend's burnt green bean casserole. I'm thankful for Weight Watchers and gainful employment, road trips and hotel rooms; far-flung new relatives and acquaintances in tiny Wisconsin small towns. I'm thankful for inspiration and creativity, writer's block and espresso. And pie. French Silk Pie.

Linn Liu

2007-12-11T22:39:00.001-06:00

I'm in fifth grade, we are having "Inside Recess" because it is about 30 below outside and I have discovered that I have very statically-conductive shoes on. They are just one in a string of very cheap horribly stinky shoes that my mother and I got at Target. They smell like a mixture of Cheetos left out in the hot sun and rotten garbage mixed with farts.

Stinky though they are, they seem to give me super powers. Blue sparks shoot from my fingertips when I scuff them on the floor, I learn after mistakenly touching the metal edge of table. I smile. I AM ZAPPER BOY!! I am scuffling my feet on the strip of carpet in our classroom and zapping people pretty seriously with static and loving every minute of it. Good kids, bad kids, friends and enemies; all are my victims. I am on a rampage. Scuff-scuff- scuff!!

I zap my friend John POP! "OWW!" Scuff-scuff-scuff!!

I zap my friend Nick. POP! "OWW!" Scuff-scuff-scuff!!

I zap the annoying class brain, Shanda. POP!! "OWW!!" Scuff-scuff-scuff!!

I zap the kid who shoved me down on the playground once. POP! "OWW!!"

I zap the weird Chinese girl named Linn Liu that no one talks to. POP!! "Ahh sss!! Let me see yo finga." I show her my finger. She is mystified. I am amused. I assume there is no static electricity in China. I scuff all the way across the room, then back. I zap her again. POP!! "AHH SSSSS!! HOW YOU DO THAT?!!" But I never tell her.

I am trying to figure out a way to zap our teacher whom I hate when recess ends. And just like that, I am a boring kid with stinky, plastic shoes again.

Weight

2007-11-21T21:06:00.001-06:00

There's a heaviness about me. It's there in my physical being but I feel it is weighing down my soul as well. I have been trying to lose weight for the better part of 8 years. I always fail, I always plummet right back to where I started; sometimes I gain more than I started with. I don't think it is a matter of what I shove in my mouth or what I decide to eat. It's more a matter of what I decide to do with myself in my day to day life and how I choose to move through it. You see, fat people are invisible in a way. Not in any kind of poor me way, but in one way; one very specific way. People don't expect all that much from fat people. We can't control what we put in our fucking mouths so why should we be able to control any other aspect of our lives? I feel people look at me and feel sorry for me. They see me as a person in a constant struggle with his own inner urges. You can't expect a person with such overwhelming inner urges to control any OTHER aspect of his life, can you? People won't expect much from me. Flash forward to that wonderful, healthy person I am told I have locked deep inside me. Filled with confidence, can do anything, can stand in the spotlight, can have people look at him and lust over him and envy him and want to be his friend and want to know him and to talk to him and hang out with him and introduce themselves to him at parties and want him want him want him. Am I ready for that? Am I ready to be and most importantly do I WANT to be that person? You see for me, it's not so much about putting down the French fries and driving past the McDonald's drive thru, it's about what the fuck I'm going to do once I BECOME that healthy person. Once I'm one of the Visible Ones. What will people see? What can I show them? If I don't have that glaring fault distracting people from all my other faults, what will they see? Will they expect me to become something I am not? Will they ask the dreaded question "What are you waiting for?" Why haven't you made more of yourself? Why would a young fit handsome man like you let ANYTHING hold him back from making all of his dreams come true? WHY DON'T YOU HAVE IT ALL?? they will shout. Why are you still holding onto a job you despise and going nowhere when you could do SO MUCH. I mean, you lost all that pesky weight, didn't you? Those pesky 100 pounds you had hanging around that absolutely refused to let go of your now manly and athletic frame? And really, what do you have to feel bad about now that you are not overweight. Are you afraid that maybe now the weight is gone you might have to shed your problems with self esteem and GOD FORBID like yourself? See yourself as everything you know deep down you can be? Look yourself deep in the eyes in the mirror and say "You turned out okay?" And the worst and most horrifying question that childless, rootless thirtysomethings are faced with constantly "Now what?" Where to next, sir? You can go anywhere and do anything. What would you like to do? Who would you like to be?? Am I ready to answer all of those questions? Am I alone here? Am I truly alone in feeling this way? I feel like I kicked over a psychological rock in my head and started a fucking avalanche. I'm fat because it's EASIER than being thin. And I don't like myself. Deep down, I truly feel like I don't deserve the type of happiness that I feel accompanies normal-weight people. More than anything, I'm scared to death of how I will be seen and treated differently.

CONCERTINA

2007-11-11T19:19:00.001-06:00

Recently, the BF and I went to a Tori Amos concert.  It occurred to me that I have seen her in concert FIVE TIMES.  I was a completely different person every single time I saw her.  She has been one constant in my life all the way through.  I only have one friend that has been in my life every time I went to see her in concert.

My sister Tammy took me to this one for my birthday.  My 19^th birthday!!  I owe it to her for introducing me to Tori in the first place.  No matter how far she and I drift apart either geographically (she lives in New Hampshire) or politically (she's a raging republican) we will always share this.  We held hands and got teary-eyed during Silent All These Years.  That song will always remind me of her.  I was living at home and hadn't even met Mike, been drunk, smoked pot or smoked a cigarette.  I was barely out of the closet.  But, I guess, crying at Tori Amos concerts isn't the straightest of activities.

Minneapolis, MN - State Theater - July 14, 1994

UNDER THE PINK TOUR

Space Dog

Leather

Icicle

Precious Things

American Pie/Smells Like Teen Spirit

God

Silent All These Years

The Waitress

Bells for Her

Me and a Gun

Winter

Encore 1:

Cornflake Girl

A Case of You

Encore 2:

Upside Down

Baker Baker

At the time of this concert I was living on my own in a studio apartment near Loring Park in Minneapolis.  I went with my friend Mara and her new girlfriend Tina.  We had pretty decent seats.  I worked at AT&T and paid $375/mo for my apartment.  I was a huge pothead and smoked regularly.  This was the day of the Hennepin Avenue block party where the Smashing Pumpkins played a FREE concert.  This was my favorite concert.

July 17, 1998 at Northrup Auditorium

PLUGGED 98 TOUR

Precious Things
Spark
Cornflake Girl
Sugar
iieee
Playboy Mommy
Crucify
Marianne
Upside Down
Doughnut Song
Cruel
Liquid Diamonds
The Waitress

1st Encore:
God
Raspberry Swirl

2nd Encore:
Landslide

Weird. This was after 9/11. A little more than a month after. I worked at American Express but not for much longer. Being on the 26^th floor of the tallest building in Minneapolis made me nervous. The job also outsourced to India not too long after. I soon started a disastrous job at Qwest that I would get canned from; the first of THREE jobs in a row that would can me. George W. Bush was president and no one could believe it. I went to this one with my best friend Sarabellem. We thought this concert was great. I remember she was especially pleased to hear "Rattlesnakes".

October 21, 2001 at the Orpheum Theatre

STRANGE LITTLE TOUR

'97 Bonnie & Clyde
Little Amsterdam
Sugar
Take To the Sky
Putting The Damage On
Leather
Beauty Queen
Horses
I Don't Like Mondays
Winter
Concertina
Crucify
Rattlesnakes
Me and a Gun
Cooling

1st Encore:
Purple People
Upside Down

2nd Encore:
Space Dog
Famous Blue Raincoat
1000 Oceans

Wow. At the time of this concert I was working at Allianz and living in Lauderdale. In March, the same day the stupid war started, I would be canned and begin 8 months of unemployment that would nearly destroy me. Sarabellem and I went to this one as well. We were less than pleased for some reason. Neither of us liked the inclusion of "Hotel" and "I Can't See New York". Shortly after being canned, Sarabellem stopped talking to me and we went through a "Friendship Makeover" as we term it now. It was necessary. I needed to have everyone turn their back on me and rely only on myself for awhile to prove that I could get myself through tough times with no one's help. I also did a lot of writing once my cable was shut off. I learned a lot.

Saturday, November 30, 2002 at the Northrop Auditorium.

SCARLET'S WALK TOUR

Wampum Prayer
a sorta fairytale
Take To the Sky
Pancake
Cornflake Girl
Honey
Juarez
Crucify
Wednesday

Band leaves

China
Famous Blue Raincoat
Josephine

Band returns

Your Cloud
Girl
Sweet Sangria
Lust
Hotel
I Can't See New York
Spring Haze

1st Encore
Taxi Ride
Etienne

2nd Encore
Strange
Tear In Your Hand

This brings us right up to last Wednesday, when I went to the concert below with the man I love. What a ride, what a journey. I don't think way back in 94 that I would ever believe where I am today. It is absolutely mind-boggling. At this concert I had a strange, bittersweet feeling watching her and watching the much younger audience around me. Among all the lesbians and patchouli I think I figured out that maybe I need to pass the torch on. Who knows. Maybe I'll see her again, but if I don't I won't mind.

Wednesday, November 7^that Northrup Auditorium

AMERICAN DOLL POSSE TOUR

Act I – Isabel

Yo George

Sweet Dreams

In the Springtime of His Voodoo

Devils and Gods

Almost Rosey

Tombigbee

Scarlet's Walk

Interlude

Professional Widow

Act II – Tori

Big Wheel

Space Dog

Pancake

Cornflake Girl

Doughnut Song

Siren

T & Bö

Graveyard

Jackie's Strength

Silent All These Years

Band Returns

Putting The Damage On

Black Dove (January)

Code Red

1st Encore:

Precious Things

2nd Encore

Hey Jupiter

Kajagoogoo

2007-11-10T21:10:00.001-06:00

I've been having some pretty severe issues lately with social anxiety. I think Wikipedia might be the coolest thing ever. I really wonder what the difference is between Social Anxiety Disorder and garden variety shyness so I checked it out online. I had this feeling that it was closely related to low self esteem and it definitely is. When I'm in a social situation and I clam up it's because there's this nasty voice in my head telling me that this person doesn't want to hear what I have to say and that they couldn't possibly care about me. Moreover, I have been burned too many times in my life not to be pretty guarded around new people. I judge them pretty harshly in my head and more often than not dismiss them as a certain type that I wouldn't want to have anything to do with anyway. This beats them to the inevitable rejection, you see. Social Anxiety folks tend to isolate themselves which actually makes the situation worse. Ding ding ding!!! I lived by myself with a few cats in two 1 bedroom apartments in a row. I used to make all kinds of excuses not to leave the last one. My neighborhood wasn't safe, it was too cold, it was too hot, etc, etc. We also tend to have been ridiculed, rejected and humiliated by our peers at an early age more than non SAD folks. Again, right on the money. I don't remember EVER fitting in. I was nearly drowned in the swimming pool in 8^th grade, punched, kicked, called "Faggot" more times than I can count. Junior High was a general nightmare for me, one that I couldn't wake up from. I dealt with it by isolating myself and reading. I went to only one dance in my entire school career and I was dragged to it.

Now onto the issue at hand: My BF is a very social person. He loves being the center of attention. He loves going out and meeting new people. And I love him for it. It's one of the many things I admire about him, that confidence, because it is something that I lack. I worry sometimes that he will get fed up with my shyness and kick me to the curb and find a less defective model; someone he can go to birthday parties with that won't huddle in the corner wishing he was dead or make rude comments about the people all around us to beat them to the punch. I always had it in my mind that getting into a relationship would mean that all my personal problems would be solved. Boy was I in for the shock of my life when I found out that it actually MAGNIFIES all of your personal shit because now there is someone around to notice everything.

Here's the central question: Is there something BETTER about being a social butterfly? Does it mean you are a better person? It takes all types to make up this crazy world. Where do the shy people fit in? The BF can be out at the club partying it up while I'm at home writing a masterpiece screenplay. Is one activity more valid than the other because one is social and one is done in isolation? Is this something I absolutely need to work on? Right now we have a system worked out where if he wants to stay out he just calls me when he's done and I come and pick him up. That way he has a safe way home and I don't have to put on fake smiles, deal with awkward silences and make nice with strangers. Everyone wins. Or am I fooling myself?

SHAME!!!

2007-03-10T17:03:00.000-06:00

I have the sad duty of reporting that the felines below fell far short of their only required duty of pest control by not alerting me to the presence of a squirrel in my apartment until I had a face-to-face encounter with it. It is, however, only through public shame and humiliation that they can truly be taught a lesson. So, I call these three out!!

Shame on YOU Mi-Wu!!

Shame on YOU Haxanberger!!

Shame on YOU Mimi!!

Vintage Diary Entry 6: Sunday, July 26, 1992

2006-11-01T18:49:00.000-06:00

1:40 PM- Today, I drove home from the grocery store with my mom. What a nightmare! She bitched at me the WHOLE way! It's no wonder I nearly took her side-view mirror off when I pulled into the garage. I straightened the car out, with Kelly's help, came inside went in my room and sobbed. I'm still shaking. There is no way I am ever getting in a car with her again. It was so scary and humiliating. I have never driven so awful and it had to be right in front of Kelly and her boyfriend. I can't drive with that fucking SPAZ ever again. You couldn't pay me enough! I don't know how I would ever get my license if Kelly weren't here!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Obviously one of my first attempts at driving. My mom stressed me out so bad I nearly ripped off her side-view mirror. I failed my driving test the first time for going through a No Turn on Red. Ahh, those were the days.

Halloween Costume Hints, For I.J.T.

2006-10-22T20:03:00.000-05:00

It shouldn't be too hard to figure it out from these photos of pieces of the actual costume. Mwoohahahaha...

Insecurities UNBOUND!!

2006-10-19T16:18:00.000-05:00

This is an actual page from the diary I have been putting entries on here from. It's a pretty typical page. Sorry. I just got a scanner and am completely obsessed with it.

Vintage Diary Entry 5: Thursday, August 3rd, 1995

2006-10-12T20:31:00.000-05:00

11:56 PM- I really wish I knew how to change my feelings about Sexy. The word "obsession" doesn't go far enough in describing it. I want to be with him all the time, and what do I get out of it? I get a warm, secure safe feeling. I get a lot of eye candy and most of the time I have fun. But, at the same time, it's all very empty because I know I can't have more. He's the type of guy that can never say he cares in any way. He is very cold and cruel sometimes and I get the feeling again and again that he's using me, but not in the way I wish he would. I have already decided that I am never gonna let this happen again. I am never gonna get into a friendship with someone I am attracted to but can't have. Whether that means that I shut out a good friend or not doesn't concern me. I cannot go through this again.
====================================================
Wow! I was being completely honest with myself. Not that it did any good. I mean, I was right at the beginning of all of that Sexy stuff. It hadn't even been a full year yet. I was onto something, though. There was something warm and safe and secure about having feelings for someone who absolutely could not have them back. Warm, safe, secure yet empty and abusive. That completely describes every bit of my friendship with him; all 12 years of it. I was also under the impression that because he was a tough, macho straight guy he could "protect" me because I was still under the delusion that I needed to be protected from something other than my own self-destructive tendencies. Yeah. Well, I got shot and attacked with an ice scraper while I knew him. Obviously it did no good. I have taken the healthy mental health stance of not regretting anything in my past, laltely because every step of the way led me to where I am right now; and where I am is pretty fucking awesome. Sexy is in the past. In fact, if I have anything to do with it, I will never see nor speak with him again. The funny thing is, I don't hate him or dislike him or judge him. I just have absolutely nothing in common with him anymore and being around him makes me remember what it was like to completely fool myself for so long. So, in the last analysis I guess there is a hint of regret. Just no hard feelings.

For I. J. T.

2006-10-03T06:53:00.000-05:00

Pull down hard on your lap bar to lock it in place, fasten your seatbelt and keep your hands and arms inside the ride at all times. Standing is prohibited. Be safe but most of all have fun. This ride, if nothing else, reminds you you're alive. Hang on tight.

ABC just INNED me!!

2006-10-01T20:12:00.000-05:00

I was, apparently, just ruthlessly thrown back in the closet by ABC. A video of me scaring The Nurse 6 years ago aired on AFV tonight. The stupid narrator said something about "Who is that masked man? Her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend!" WTF?!! My 15 minutes of fame and I get thrown back in the closet?!! Hell no!!

Be Here Now

2006-09-27T07:41:00.000-05:00

I had a very dear friend give me this advice. When things involving the future seem so uncertain, when things seem like they could possibly spiral out of your control, when there are a lot of new changes in your life and you don't quite know what to do with them just Be Here Now. Live in the moment. If you focus too much on the uncertainty of the future you will forget about the present. And presently, things are going wonderfully for me; that huge Karmic payback finally started taking form in my life. My sister told me recently that people with dysthymia (it's a mild form of chronic depression) are notorious ruminators, that we are so self-obsessed in the sense that we are always trying to analyze ourselves and figuring out what everything MEANS and that we need to give it a fuckin rest sometimes. I hereby commit to giving it a rest and to just Being Here Now.

My Latest Song Obsession

2006-09-25T06:57:00.000-05:00

I just got "Siamese Dream" again this weekend. It was like greeting an old, cherished friend after a long, long absence from my life. There is a song on it that I don't know if I ever paid any attention to before because I was obviously deaf or stupid back then. I have been absolutely obsessed with it ever since. I think the lyrics are pretty meaningful, and it goes from this blistering guitar riff to the most beautiful, melodic love song for about the last 2 and a half minutes. Truly genius. It gives me chills every time I listen to it. Genius!!

Hummer

Smashing Pumpkins

Faith lies in

The ways of sin

I chased the charmed

But I don't want them anymore

And in their eyes

I was alive

A fool's disguise

Take me away from you

Shame my tongue

Fat with promise all along

But when I woke up from that sleep

I was happier than I'd ever been

When you decide

That your life is a prize

Renew and rivive

It's alright honey

It's alright, yeah

Happiness will make you wonder

Will I feel OK?

It scares the disenchanted

Far away

Yeah I want something new

But what am I supposed to do about you

Yeah I love you, it's true

Life's a bummer

When you're a hummer

Life's a drag

Ask yourself a question

Anyone but me

I ain't free
Ask yourself a question

Anyone but me

I ain't free

Do you feel
Love is real?

Alarming Trend!!

2006-09-23T09:58:00.000-05:00

I don't normally put ths type of stuff on here, but I can't help it. What's with the trend lately of people having fucking ALARMS going off in their songs? I can't think of a single time an alarm means something good is going on. The last thing I want to do when I hear an alarm is dance. The worst example is that stupid "Chicken Noodle Soup" song, but Beyonce is guilty as well. Her song "Ring the Alarm" practically induces seizures. It makes me want to blow my fucking brains out. Fergie's "London Bridge" STARTS with an alarm but it quits after the first few seconds.

UGH!! STOP IT!!! If I wanted to listen to alarms I would hang out in front of the Hospital or Police Station or Fire Station!! Hmmm... Cute paramedics, cops and firemen are there. Doesn't sound like a bad idea.

180

2006-09-23T08:58:00.000-05:00

This is actually a sequel to the post below. Make sure you read that first.

I went into work, handed my supervisor my resignation, said it was nothing personal, that I enjoyed my time there and would look back on it fondly. I wanted to go out with my head held high and start somewhere fresh but not have to drive past the place knowing I pulled some immature "Fuck YOU, bitches!!!" shit. I even hugged my supervisor and told her that I like her as a person, just not as a supervisor.

About half an hour later, my bosses boss dragged me over to her desk and asked me what it would take to make me stay. I told her that I would need to be put in my old position with the other supervisor that I like where I can make huge bonuses again. She told me she would see what she could do, sent me away, and chaos erupted. There was a revolving door at her desk of supervisors and co-workers. After lunch I came back and she said she would be moving me to where I asked. She even asked me about recommendations for my replacement and we had a long talk about the department in general.

In the process of this day I found out that I am valued at my job, that they do not want to lose me, that I will be back to making what I did, and that I wield far more power there than I thought I had. She told me to my face that they wold not do this for everyone, that it is in the best interest of the company to keep me.

I won't get into the boring specifics, but I helped out several friends, too. I made sure the replacement that gets my old, worthless position was not two of my friends, I got a horrid person taken off of my favorite supervisor's team so he doesn't need to deal with her anymore, I made sure they honored a promise they made to another friend and moved her to the position she has wanted for a long time, let them know that another valued employee is looking for a position within the bank and that he will need help with that and I practically ensured the failure of the supervisor I hate.

I am gonna quote Ice Cube here: "I gotta say it was a good day..."

Endings and Beginnings

2006-09-22T05:19:00.000-05:00

I have been more than miserable with my job at Da Bank for the past 3 years but never for such a sustained amount of time as I have been these past 5 months. There have been fleeting moments of happiness, but overall I have been whining and complaining and unhappy and more than anything, completely broke. I have to say I have never worked at a place where I have felt more like a number than where I currently work. I feel like I have no voice at all, like I am standing on a table screaming and no one is even paying attention. Did I mention this is also the smallest call center I have ever worked for?

Yesterday, I interviewed for a similar position somewhere else. I got caught in traffic, got lost and went to the wrong building on the way to the interview. This made me a half hour late. I also didn't go out of my way to dress well. I walked in not wanting the job, or not really caring, anyway. I was kinda cocky in the interview. Further, I cut the interview a little short MYSELF so I could get to work on time.

They begged me to take the position. They offered me the job on the way out the door and offered me more money than they normally offer people. This job is also insanely flexible which is absolutely necessary with the high maintenance degree I am seeking and my impending internship, a good friend of mine works there who claims he knows that I can hack it and make decent money, and further claims there is literally NO corporate BS there.

See below.

Shakycam
Da Bank
Murderapolis, MN 55403

September 22, 2006

Supervisor
Da Bank
Murderapolis, MN
Re: Resignation of Employment

Dear Supervisor:

Please accept this letter as my formal two week notice of resignation, effective October 6, 2006.
I have appreciated my years with the company. Thank you for the opportunities you have presented.

Sincere thanks and best wishes for the future,

Shakycam

CC: Bosses' Boss, Bosses' Bosses' Boss

Thanks, Choirgirl

2006-09-16T21:38:00.000-05:00

I just got off the phone with my good friend Choirgirl. We discussed my current situation and I gotta say her words cut right through to the core of everything I am experiencing right now. These aren't original words, but I had never heard them before. I wasted so much time not knowing this.

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Those that come in for a reason, lead you somewhere you need to go and leave after they have done that. Those that are there for a season have a longer lesson to teach you but then their time ends, as all seasons end, when it is natural for them to do so. And those that are there for a lifetime... well. They are there to teach you something that may take your entire life. The pain and the heartache come in when you try to change people and force their reason or season into something more, something longer-lasting. You have to accept people for which one of these roles they fill, which one of these roles they are MEANT to fill, and move on.

She also said that she wants me to have something meaningful. She wants me to have arguments with someone about where to put the toaster. She wants me to experience all of the joy and the heartache that goes along with taking a chance and living and being a human being who takes chances and has dreams and goals and is not satisfied with what he sees around him every day. This is a woman in the midst of her own financial and personal crisis who took the time to look outside of herself and her own situation and looked deeply into me as a person to give me some beautifully encouraging, wonderful words. I gotta say, I love her for that.

And I gotta say I feel like I am waking up for the first time in many years in so many ways. And it feels incredible.

When You Come Undone

2006-09-14T20:22:00.000-05:00

I feel like I am being ripped apart lately. There are incredibly good things happening for me, and incredibly bad things happening. It's all at once. I feel like I'm caught between elation and depression and I don't know which way to turn. Emotions suck! My financial situation seems to worsen by the day, my job is getting more and more unbearable, and I feel overwhelmed with homework. On the plus side, i just found out my video will be shown on AFV on Sunday, October 1st, my personal life is starting to go great (Hey, I!), I'm getting along wonderfully with friends and have re-bonded with a dear friend I thought was lost (Hey, W!). It's like I don't know what I should feel anymore. I want to get back on anti-depressants to just NUMB the whole business.

Update

2006-09-11T13:25:00.000-05:00

Fall has officially started, in my opinion. Fuck a solstice, walk outside once. I had some terrible financial troubles recently, I'm back in school and laden with homework, I hate my job more every day in fact today I had this urge to just walk out and take my chances. It's starting to be less and less about the money and more and more about the fact that I do nothing but leave messages all day long. It's maddening. So, job hunt is on in full force. I discovered 3 for 1's at The Bolt on Friday and got shockingly drunk right after work with Math-girl. I'll have a more full update when I'm doped up on caffeine and feel the urge to write.

FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!

2006-09-01T07:38:00.000-05:00

I've been on Weight Watchers for about 2 months now. As of today, I can officially fit into my skinny jeans!! They're pretty tight and more comfortable WITHOUT underwear but hell, with an ass as hot as mine is in these jeans I won't NEED underwear!! I guess being broke and starving myself really worked out in the end. Literally!

Fees Part 2: Resolved

2006-09-01T07:26:00.000-05:00

It was no small feat, but ALL NINE FEES were reversed this morning. They tried to tell me I had to go to the branch and I about blew my top. I know why. This is a loss that the branch I opened the account at will need to take. Whatever. I informed them immediately what was going on and they could have stopped the 9 FEES from hitting. Bite me. Take THAT, The Man!!

Trees & Fees

2006-09-01T00:05:00.000-05:00

I am going camping this weekend. The first time in my adult life. I am fully expecting to be murdered in a really creative way by Jason Voorhees, dragged away by wild animals or stood in a corner and later gutted by the Blair Witch. Camping never turns out good in the movies, or on TV!! Even "Little House on the Prairie" had an episode where Laura and Nellie fell into a river and damn near went over a waterfall while camping. I'm fucked.

Also, I have had my fucking finances put in flux because of a stupid $7 an hour idiot at Time Warner Cable making a mistake. As regular readers know, I cancelled my cable awhile back for several reasons. At the time of the cancellation, they were also supposed to cancel my automatic payments. Someone didn't and I had $126.02 come out of my account that was practically at $0.00 on the 26th. Just a completely random day. My automatic bill pay was set up specifically for the 15th of the month. I still would have been really mad, but it wouldn't have resulted in 9 $35 overdraft charges!! Can we say EXCESSIVE?!! 9 X $35 = $315!!! for a fucking mistake TIME WARNER made?!! Of course, there is a reversal going through. It's been "Going through" since MONDAY. Once it hits my bank, they will reverse all of the fees that accrued as a direct result of it. ALL FUCKING NINE!! Imagine this was a mistake I had made. Just an honest mistake. THEY WOULD CHARGE ME $315 FOR AN HONEST MISTAKE?!! What the hell is wrong with banks?

It's officially September now!! Why does August ALWAYS suck so bad for me?!! GEEZ!!

Brandy

2006-08-26T09:57:00.000-05:00

I have the sensation of swift movement from 15th and Lasalle to 18th and 3rd. I don’t have this visually. Aries is mumbling about bullshit, cursing about the emergency phone call she just made to Wicca and the attitude she got. I am in tatters. I am so far beyond that car and that moment, I am on another planet where I can‘t feel the pain or the burning tears soaking my face and my t-shirt. I drift out of the car, up the stairs and after the buzz, I drift down the stairs to the basement.

The apartment is sparse, smoke-filled, beautiful black and white photography on the walls a place mockingly familiar in this new cruel, alien world. Incense and cigarettes and Wicca’s expression of concern, all decked out and perfumed to go to a birthday party. I fall into her arms and cry harder than I ever have before. I am crying so hard I can’t even breathe; literally suffocating in grief like bile trapped in my throat. Then, there is a glass in my hand and I gulp down amber liquid without even thinking, without feeling.

It’s a magic potion. I am instantly coherent and have a pleasant warm feeling. The story tumbles from my mouth like vomit, the worst kind of breakup possible, the kind that blindsides you in the cruelest way imaginable; the lies spouted by another person that the one you love takes as truth and there are no words to make them believe you. It’s an injustice where you are screaming the truth and not a single word is heard or understood. It is a rending of the soul with so much left unsaid, so much business that will permanently remain unfinished. So many long conversations and late-night walks and plans for the future gone in one swift, violent stroke.

She listens quietly. She smiles and nods. There is a fierce calm about her the entire time, which I hold onto like an anchor until I notice she has tears in her eyes. Angry tears. I ask her why and she says the thing that will ring in my head forever.

“He broke his promise.”
“What promise?”
“He promised he would never hurt my Aaron…”

Then we’re both crying, but this time I smile through my tears. He’s gone, but I know I am loved no matter what. There is an unconditional love that no amount of overheard conversations, lying psychotic bitches or the loss of charming, southern gorgeous alcoholics can ever hope to destroy. It’s there in her eyes. It’s the love of acceptance, of truly seeing me for what and who I am at that moment in that space and time.

Even through the stinging tears, I know it will be okay.

At Summer's End

2006-08-24T10:29:00.000-05:00

I have been practically WILLING Summer to end. I watched "Halloween" and every other fall-related movie I own. I have been shaking my fist at the TV whenever I see an extended forecast with 80s in it. I have practically gone out spray-painting the leaves to get them to change. I start school on Monday. I have two classes back-to-back on Mondays only which has totally wreaked havoc with my work schedule and chances of changing jobs. To make matters worse, the last 2 stupid electives I have to take are ONLY offered on Monday nights, which means I may be stuck there for another full year to finish my degree!! I know that I am going to take some classes over the summer to stave off the raging depression that hits me annually in the summer.

Summer in review: I have been broke the whole time because of bullshit going on at work, seen a bunch of bad movies and very few good ones, went on a great vacation to San Fran and didn't do much else but watch a bunch of TV and moan about not having a life. I got a car that I can barely afford to keep gas in and watched in horror as my way-too-high insurance payments started coming out. I also nearly died spending summer number two in the hottest apartment I have ever lived in. I interviewed for a position I really wanted, was promised a call back and was unceremoniously sent a form letter saying thanks-but-no-thanks.

Overall, this summer has really fucking sucked. Bring on Autumn, baby!!

As to the brokeness, I have been forced to scale back my lifestyle. I am still in the process of doing so, cutting corners wherever I can. It's not an easy thing to do and usually involves over-eating and raging depression. Oh, and mental breakdowns where I assume my closest friends are conspiring against me. Once January hits and I have better insurance I fully intend to take a fistful of anti-depressants and go to regular therapy sessions so I can finally figure out what the fuck is wrong with me, or at least talk about it with a stranger who is paid to listen without obvious judgment once a week.

NEW SPECS

2006-08-22T18:13:00.000-05:00

Depressing

2006-08-12T18:38:00.000-05:00

I put in my graduation year and high school in myspace and did a search. There are 31 people listed on there including me and evey single one of them lists themselves as "straight". I WASN'T crazy. No WONDER I felt so alone. Most of them are big losers who have drunken pics of themselves and talk about all the partying they do. HA!!

Three Weekend Paycheck or Financial Vivisection

2006-08-11T19:47:00.000-05:00

For those of you out there that get paid bi-monthly (15th and last day of the month or some other vartiation) you know that there is nothing worse than a month with a 31st. Two of them happen to fall in a row during the summer. Sometimes you luck out and the weekends kick you a break. Not so with the month of August this year. Ya see, the last paycheck I got was on July 29th. My next paycheck is on the 15th, which happens to be a Tuesday. If you have a calendar handy, count the weekends. That's right, THREE weekends with one paycheck. There is absolutely nothing worse, especially if you are getting a pittance per hour like me and have rent of $650 per month. On the plus side my lack of an incentive at work lately has caused me to trim some of the fat from my life, spending-wise (Cable, gone) on the negative side I have an empty tank, no money to do anything and a full weekend yawning before me. The third broke weekend in a row. If I were the type of person that could learn to budget my money, I think I would have done so by 31. And it doesn't seem to happen no matter how much I am making. The brokeness is an equal opportunity aggressor, if you know what I'm saying. I honestly don't think anything would be different if I made Enough. Enough for me is somewhere around $2500-$3000 per month after taxes. For that I would need to be making about $25 per hour. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Do people MAKE $25/hour? Does ANYONE make $25/hour? I mean, besides CEOs. That's more than twice what I make right now. I suppose a job like that means COLLEGE and SPECIAL SKILLS. Sheesh... I hate being broke, though.

Sin Grasa

2006-08-11T07:04:00.000-05:00

I have been on Weight Watchers for the past few weeks trying AGAIN to lose weight. It just may work this time because WW is SANE. I actually like the overly-anal attention you have to pay to what you eat, counting points, and most importantly feeling smug when I see someone eating greasy fast food. There's a BK right downstairs from my job and there is a group of people who eat there at least 3 times a week. Every single one of them is about busting out of their chair after more than a year of this. As far as results go, today will be my 4th weigh-in. In 3 weeks I lost 12.6 pounds. Woo-hoo!! I'm not expecting my results to be very dramatic this week because SOMEHOW I hurt my effing ankle taking a long WALK on Monday. YES! You read that right! I wasn't mountain climbing or rapelling or god forbid playing sports, I took a WALK; albeit a murderously LONG walk. Now my right ankle and foot hurt so bad when I walk I would not be surprised at all if I looked down and saw a roofing nail sticking out of them. At this point I can't walk to work like I normally do which was greatly helping with the weight loss. Shit, I can barely make it to the bus stop and back. Weight Watchers is my last ditch effort before I opt for surgery to lose weight. My brother in law told me a few years back that I WILL get Type 2 Diabetes if I don't lose some weight because my father has it. His words continually ring in my ewars. I have a self-imposed deadline of the end of this year to get things permanently turned around before I go under the knife. I am fighting like hell on WW. I just don't want to limit myself like I have seen some of my friends do. Besides, it isn't a permanent fix and I see a few of them gaining the weight back.

On the DREAM front I had a sick and twisted dream about "Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning" Basically, I was watching it but I was kinda there, too. The movie would be scary as hell if they took what was in my dream and put it in the movie, but I get the feeling it will be a huge piece of stinking over-produced shit like the remake.

P.S. I hate my fucking job.

Insane?

2006-08-07T07:23:00.000-05:00

Saturday night I dreamed that someone told me I had better pick up all of the clothes off my floor and put them somewhere else because mice would nest in them. Still half-asleep I got up and threw all of the clothes on the floor into the laundry hamper in my closet. I went back to sleep and when I woke up I thought I had dreamed that part. I didn't. My clothes were all in my closet.

6-13

2006-08-06T20:16:00.000-05:00

Sixth Grade: George Michael's "Faith" video. I can't figure out why my eyes are plastered to HIS side of the jukebox, rather than the girl's. I think I just really like his ripped jeans for some reason.

Seventh Grade: His name is Tommy. I like him. I really like him in a way that makes me want to be around him alot. He’s my age and he’s so smart and funny. So cute. I like him in the locker room, too. The boys want to change real quick and get into the gym because that’s where the girls are. I like it in the locker room. And I don’t know why.

Eighth Grade: The girls are all fixated on the cutest boy in school. His name is Marc. He’s a ninth grader. He’s tall and tan and has a smile that makes my knees weak. I’m so shy and fumbling and nervous. I have glasses for the first time. Big coke bottle glasses that make the other boys punch me and push me and spit on me. I don’t fight back.

Ninth Grade: Marty finally gives a name to it. A name to what I am. He calls me faggot in Art class and nobody cares. He calls me faggot in front of the teacher and the teacher didn’t care. He looked at me with this sly smile. He knows what it means. I know it means something really bad, but I’m not sure what it is. The girls at the table flirt with Marty before during and after he calls me faggot and even before during and after he punches me when the teacher isn’t looking. They laugh and flirt. I hate them for it. I hate them more than him because they didn’t do anything about it and because he might make out with them like I want him to make out with me. I’m confused as to why, even while he’s punching me, I still think he’s really hot. I want to die.

Tenth Grade: My shuffling walk. My coke bottle glasses. This place is much bigger. I am invisible here. I can sit at the back of study hall and read Stephen King and be invisible in blissful anonymity while the girl behind me whispers her Spanish homework under her breath. Nobody can see me. Nobody wants to see me. I know exactly what it is now, and I know I am the only one on the planet. Alone. All alone. My own private hell that wraps around me and comforts me. I see the world through scratched smudged coke bottle glasses. I know what it is because it’s in style for cool guys to roll the sleeves of their t-shirts up over their biceps and one guy brushed past me, his bicep grazing across my bare arm for a moment and I know it all in a blinding flash of truth and terror and reality. That wonderful combination of hot, hard and smooth that is another man’s body.

Eleventh Grade: I came out to my sister and my mom last summer. My friends still don't know because I don't want them to think we are checking out the same guys. My psychology teacher asks what Freudian psychological stage gay men are trapped at and when one smart-ass says “Anal” the teacher laughs heartily and says “No, but I understand why you might think that”. I hate the teacher with such blinding pure rage and I realize that the rage feels good. The rage is something that other like me feel. They may all be in New York and San Francisco doing it in filthy alleys, but they feel it too.

Twelfth Grade: A guy in English Class during our persuasive essays bursts out that if he sees two guys holding hands he will beat the living shit out of them. They need to stay in the closet where they belong. Before the enraged English teacher can say anything a girl pipes up and talks about how that’s really fucked up. “Why do all ugly-ass straight men think that every gay man wants them?” I want to stand up and cheer. Instead, when asked to write my Autobiography for English class, I tell the truth. I call it The Difference and it is the Difference that dare not speak it's name. My teacher commends me for my courage, and I get an A. TO this day she is one of the true heroes of my life.

Thirteenth Grade (AKA Community College): Speech Class. I give an impassioned speech about gay rights and get a standing ovation. I smile and shudder at the statistic I found directly linking the way gays and lesbians are treated in America to the way Jews were treated in Germany right before the Holocaust.

P.S. Marc, the hottest guy at my Junior High that all the girls wanted, was making out with a guy at the Nineties the first time I went there. I don’t know if I will ever recover from the shock.

Cable and Heat

2006-07-30T16:06:00.000-05:00

It took me awhile, but I finally got up the nerve to shut my cable off today. Actually, I severely downgraded it. I now have $12/month basic cable which is just good reception on the regular channels. I couldn't justify being without even the news in case of an emergency. The woman at Time Warner Cable was very nice and tried every which way she could to change my mind, but I wouldn't relent. I finally had to tell her the truth, which is that it is better for my mental health to be without cable.

On another note, it is so blisteringly hot out today I fully plan on not even leaving my apartment. I celebrated the horrid weather by taking my friend Danni to see "An Inconvenient Truth" which is a fascinating documentary about global warming. I hope to GOD they are showing this in High Schools around the country. It's horrifying and sickening to realize what we have done to this planet, and it's even more horrifying to realize how crucial it is that we change what we are doing RIGHT NOW!! The oil barons have such a stranglehold on our global policy it makes me want to puke. Greenland is in the midst of melting!! If it continues melting it will raise our sea level by 20 feet! MAPS will have to be redrawn and there will be approximately 140 Million refugees, worldwide. Check out this website to learn more: www.climatecrisis.com

Home Tour 15: Into the bell jar and out for good...

2006-07-30T15:50:00.000-05:00

In February of 2002 I moved to this apartment building in Lauderdale, MN.

The place was a typical cookie-cutter apartment that I got without hardly a reference of any kind. They told me I could move in when I went to look at it. It was the first real apartment I had alone. It's the one with the deck, by the way. The window to the left of that was my bedroom. The place was eye level with the parking lot so it had nothing in the way of a view. The only nature I could see was a gigantic walnut tree across the parking lot. In this apartment I was fired from a total of 3 jobs (in a ROW!) went to jail once, was unemployed from March of 2003 until November of 2003, lost a cat (she ran out onto the deck and took off running on move-in day and I never found her) found another one (on the stairs in the apartment building I found Mi-Wu, a tiny kitten less than a week after I lost Myla). I experienced some of the worst desperation, depression and anxiety here. I basically hit rock bottom. I also went through one of the worst slut phases of my entire life while I lived here. When I dragged myself back from the brink, it took a Herculean effort, but by the time I moved out I had a full semester of college behind me, had dated someone briefly, had written several short stories, had dropped at least 20 pounds on the South Beach Diet, had cleaned up my license and my finances, more or less, and the future was looking up. It still is...

Home Tour 14: Duplex Complex

2006-07-30T14:08:00.000-05:00

I lived here from February of 2001 until February of 2002. Somehow, it seemed longer.

It's a Duplex. We had the bottom half and the lead-footed owner with 2 kids and a billion centipede-attracting rose bushes lived upstairs. I lived with 2 different roommates here. The first was a co-worker named Anne and then The Nurse. This is NE Minneapolis which I now consider the armpit of Minneapolis. Everything seemed junky and trashy here. The place had one rickety window air conditioner that you can see in the picture, but it never reached my bedroom in the back. It had absolutely no insulation so we froze in the winter and burned up in the summer. This place was also haunted as hell and the owners admitted to me AFTER we moved in that the place had been EXORCISED more than once. I lived here during September 11th and sat near that big wondow in front waiting for the sky to fall. They had hissy fits when they found out my roommate and I smoked so we decided to get hypnotized to quit. I quit and never looked back. She started up a few weeks later. There was also a lightning strike that happened right in front of the building which sent a gigantic log through the back window of the owner's car. A few months later, the same car was stolen which they replaced with a truck. The car was found about a week later 2 blocks away with nothing wrong--except the back window was broken. Shortly before we moved out I blearily looked out the front window and was shocked to see an auto glass place replacing the back window of the same car. Someone had randomly thrown a brick through it. The Nurse and I were often late with rent causing us to "hide" from the owner, ate too much fast food and were general layabouts committing the sin of sloth every chance we got. We moved out at the end of February.

Home Tour 13: Winter of My Discontent

2006-07-30T13:59:00.000-05:00

My friend Wicca let me live with she and her 11 year old daughter from Mid-December until Mid-February of 2001.

Their apartment was directly behind that blue car, in the basement. I crashed on the futon. It was tough not having all of my stuff with me especially my bed. It was being stored at my friend Scorpio's house until I could move into the next apartment. It's uncomfortable discovering the day-to-day workings of a family and I was privy to many arguments between my friend and her daughter. I also got what I unaffectionately refer to as the Hansen Family Christmas Flu while I lived there. It was one of the most miserable stomach flus I have ever had and we all got it at one point or another. I moved out around Mid-February.

Home Tour 12: The House

2006-07-30T13:46:00.000-05:00

In June of 2000 I moved here. I lived here until mid-December, 2001.

This house is in infamous North Minneapolis, where I never felt unsafe. The gunshots were always a few blocks away, and I minded my business. I hit rock bottom while living here. I lost my job at AT&T in August of 2000 and it took me until November to get another one. To make matters worse I was living with my friend Sexy. If you've been paying attention, YES he is the straight guy that I was obsessed with for several years. Turns out, we didn't really get along as roommates and by the time I moved out, I was over him and over our friendship. He did a bunch of really shitty things to me while I lived here, and I did them right back. It's painful knocking someone off their pedastal, especially if the pedastal is the one you have placed them on in your mind. We are on speaking terms these days, but barely. Of special note is this is the first HOUSE I lived in since I was 9 years old. It had a dishwasher and central air which seemed like incredible luxuries to me. The place was also haunted as hell and I could always feel someone watching me. It was tough moving out as suddenly as I did, but it was like a huge weight was lifted in a million ways.

Home Tour 10 & 11: Gay Town

2006-07-30T13:28:00.000-05:00

In January of 1998 I moved here. I lived here (in a studio on the second floor and a much more spacious 2 bedroom on the 5th floor) until June of 2000. The building is very close to Loring Park.

Below was my first apartment.

It was the one right above the awning with tan around it. The bathroom is the window to the left. It was a tiny studio but it was my first place. I paid $325 a month for it. It was a nice, clean building. Below is the second apartment I lived in at this building.

My bedroom was the second one from the top. I had a really cool view of the downtown skyline, but having 2 bedrooms meant that I needed a roommate. My first one was a weirdo who was a little too into Hansen for my taste. Second roommate was my friend Pete, who I more or less got along with. Third roommate was Sarabellem's brother who I really didn't get along with, especially toward the end. I learned a lot of lessons at this place. This is where I lived when all of the Trent Bullshit was going on, so inevitably I think of that. I also destroyed my license beyond repair with a million parking tickets that I only got cleared up in 2004. I was young and stupid and living for the moment. I pissed my pants in the slow, rickety elevator and according to someone who lived in my apartment after me (?!) that I work with, the elevator still reeks like piss. I moved out on June 1st 2000.

Home Tour 9: The Real Ghetto

2006-07-30T13:18:00.000-05:00

I moved here in August of 1997 and moved out in late December. This was the first time I officially lived in Murderapolis and it was a trial by fire.

I moved in with my friend Red and her boyfriend. There are four apartments, one on each corner. We lived in the lower right apartment. The place was a total dump. It had hardwood floors, no air conditioning and it always seemed to be messy. I also regularly heard gunshots and since it is right near HCMC there were ambulances roaring past at all hours. We often sat on the upstairs patio drunk and/or high. Red's boyfriend was one of the biggest potheads I have ever seen, so there was copious amounts of weed being smoked and much junk food was consumed.

I started out working at a horrible job at Sam Goody in the City Center where they scheduled me 39 hours per week so they wouldn't have to offer me benefits. I eventually (through a series of bizarre coincidences) applied for a job at AT&T and much to my surprise got it. It was the end of crappy retail jobs and the beginning of being able to afford my own apartment. In January of 1998, I triumphantly moved into my own apartment for the first time.

Home Tour 8: The Dead Campus

2006-07-30T09:31:00.000-05:00

In mid-June I moved into a one bedroom apartment with my friend Ryan and his nerdy, Metallica-obsessed roommate at the U of M.

It really sucked. I crashed on the hide-a-bed and had absolutely no job the entire time I lived here. I tried to get one, but the campus is dead during the summer and everywhere I applied they asked if I was a student. It became clear that they only want to hire students everywhere. It was also very hard to go job-hunting because Ryan wouldn't give me a key and if I left for the day I would be locked out until he got home from work. I also remember drinking copious amounts of alcohol while I lived here and barfing in front of the building one steamy night.

Ity is of special note that while I lived here I went to visit a friend who lived in the dorms at the U of M. I didn't realize, but she actually invited me over as a joke (she was a total bitch and a pathological liar, as it turns out). When I showed up I met her friends Tom (one of the worst flaming queens I have ever met) and The Nurse who eventually became one of my closest friends. In a bizarre, mind-boggling six degrees of separation kind of way she is what led me to getting the hell out of the suburbs once and for all. Ours is the friendship that almost wasn't more than once.

Ryan and I don't talk anymore. I haven't spoken to him since 2001. We just drifted apart.

I lived here until he made me leave, and after a brief stint house-sitting for a friend it was either the homeless shelter or back home at mom's. SHe relented and I moved back home at the end of August, 1996. I lived there for another year, then moved out of Maple Grove for GOOD in August of 1998.

Home Tour 7: Brutus

2006-07-30T08:44:00.000-05:00

I don't have an actual picture of the next place I lived. I lived in my car.

Brutus was a gigantic 1981 Oldsmobile Delta 88. I could stretch out fully in the back seat. I had a comforter and my teddy bear Buddy. I had a ritual that if I was going to sleep in my car that night, I would go to Super America and buy some milk and two sugar cookies. It honestly wasn't that bad sleeping in my car. The weather was nice, it was comfy in that gigantic back seat and there was this sense of total freedom, not having to answer to anyone.

To be fair, I also crashed on friend's couches during this time period. I wasn't completely homeless. My mom was trying to teach me the value of having a roof over my head. All I learned during this time was how to get by without having a job. Stealing gas (I became a drive-off expert), cigarettes and food. I also sold every CD I owned and pawned everything else worth anything.

In retrospect, this would have been a great time to try it out in another city. I really had no ties here. That's one of the things I really regret. In mid-June, I found a more-or-less permanent place to stay.

Diversionary Tactics

2006-07-27T21:24:00.000-05:00

1. Grab the book nearest you, turn to page 18 and find line 4.
"Elvis and Frank and Liberace may have left the building."

2. Stretch out your left arm as far as you can. What can you touch?
The curtains.

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
Started watching an episode of Melrose Place, but got annoyed by Billy and Allison and shut it off.

4. Without looking, guess what time it is.
9:24

5. Now look at the clock. What is the actual time?
I SWEAR to GOD I got it exactly right!! WTF?!! I have this freakish sense of time, though.

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
Just my air conditioner whirring away.

7. When did you last step outside? What were you doing?
Walking home from work in the fucking heat. I can barely breathe outside!!

8. Before you started this survey, what did you look at?
Sarabellems answers on her blog!

9. What are you wearing?
Big blue t-shirt and shorts I only wear around the house.

10. Did you dream last night?
Can't remember, so probably not.

11. When did you last laugh?
Sarabellem wrote that HER dream was "about work so it was ass".

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
A freaky Salvador Dali print.

13. Seen anything weird lately?
A preppy-looking white guy and a crackhead-looking black lady LOUDLY discussing the finer arts of dime/nickel bags of crack a few yards from a police officer on 10th and 3rd!

14. What do you think of this quiz?
Passes the time. Better than average.

15. What is the last film you saw?
HATE to admit this, but it was "Final Destination 3" Total piece of crap.

16. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy?
MYSELF OUT OF MY FUCKING JOB!! I really really despise what I do right now. The rest would be secondary if I could just tell those bitches to go fuck themselves HARD!!

17. Tell me something about you that I don't know.
I think alcoholics have it easy. They have a well-known built-in FREE support group in every city in the united states. Those of us who AREN'T addicted to substances have to fumble the way through our own addictive tendencies alone. It makes me wish I were an alcoholic.

Home Tour 6: Home?

2006-07-26T19:45:00.000-05:00

Here is the next place we lived. Just my mother and I. My sister moved to Florida to live with our dad not long after we moved into the last place.

These are quad townhomes. It looked a lot different when we moved in. There was no deck for one thing and it was white with brown trim, not tan with brown trim like now. I suppose that's mock Tudor, right? The window closest to the door on the right was my first bedroom.

Anyway, I finished 9th grade here, moved on to High School, came out, graduated, got drunk for the first time (at 19 on tropical schnapps), got attacked by a friend's boyfriend with an ice scraper, smoked weed for the first time, and got arrested while I lived here. Also there were many scandalous rendezvous with my obsession, Sexy, who lived two quads away. Basically, my life changed completely here. A lot of people's lives changed here.

The window on the right next to the sliding glass doors was my second bedroom. My mom kicked me out on May 1st, 1996. I was 20 years old. I was homeless when I turned 21.

Home Tour 5: The Apartment

2006-07-24T21:06:00.000-05:00

Back to Maple Grove, to this apartment. We lived here from March of 1987 until late February, 1990.

First, we lived in this apartment, on the second floor. See how the gutter is disconnected at the bottom? I remember why. There are automatic sprinklers that make the loudest noise when they rattle against these things. We had some loud, nasty neighbors with a retarded baby below us. It cried non-stop. The landlord said the only thing we could do was move next door.
So we did. I went through the horrors of Junior High here. Most of them anyway. I broke my wrist while I lived here, nearly got arrested for breaking windows at the construction site nearby and discovered Nintendo for the first time. Nearby is a pond where I was attacked by a flock of geese when I ran out of stale bread. They chased me all the way up to the door hissing, with their long purple tongues.

On February 24, 1990 we moved.

Home Tour 4: In The Ghetto

2006-07-24T20:24:00.000-05:00

Here is where my broke-ass, post-divorce mom moved us next. Brooklyn Park. We lived here from September 1 of 1985 until March of 1987.

The place was a dump. It had bugs, no air conditioning, stinky matted carpeting, an unfinished, horrifying basement, and it was, essentially, in "the hood". In my mind anyway. Remember, I was sheltered and had some pretty racist ignorant family members feeding me BS. Yes, it was technically low-income, but there was never any violence here or screaming sirens 24/7 or gunshots. Geez. I didn't know anything about bad neighboroods then.

I also had some of the best friendships when I lived here. My best friend moved in next door. His name was Matt, he had a younger brother Dillon. He was one grade higher than me in school. God, I wonder what happened to him. He and I just drifted apart after I graduated. It happens sometimes.

We lived here from 5th grade until I was almost done with 6th grade. My sister drove me back and forth from the new place to my last few months of 6th grade.

Home Tour 3: Just Passing Through

2006-07-23T21:45:00.000-05:00

Here's the 3rd place I lived in Maple Grove. We lived here from March til August of 85.

Mom managed to find a pretty decent townhouse not too far from the previous house. We had the right side, and some other folks had the left. I remember watching Halley's Comet from my bedroom window, having the stomach flu, not liking many of my neighbors and feeling completely cut off from my old neighborhood. There was also an incident where I broke open one of those glowing necklaces and put the stuff inside around my eyes. Of course, the stuff got in my eyes and I freaked. I thought I was going blind and my friend had to call his mother. She rinsed my eyes out with water and of course everything was fine but not before I, very melodramatically, screamed about my "Beautiful hobby" (reading) and how I'd "never be able to do it again."

We lived here for 6 months, then moved because my mom couldn't afford it. That was the end of several friendships.

Home Tour 2: Goodbye Upper Middle Class

2006-07-23T13:24:00.000-05:00

The second place I lived in Maple Grove. I lived here from October of 78 until February of 85.

This house I remember very fondly, even though it's where the eventual divorce took place. The place was a vacant lot when my dad purchased it and he had this house built. The driveway isn't as steep and the bushes on either side of the house were a little taller than my 10 year old frame. The window on the right is the kitchen. My bedroom faced the back of the house where there is a large yard.

Next door, a house was built. They dug the foundation, and then winter hit. So, essentially there was nothing but a hole filled with water that iced over in the winter. My friends and I decided it would be a good idea to walk on the thin ice. My friend Brenda jumped on it, and it broke. They got off, I didn't. I fell through. There's a tremendous suction when ice breaks, and it almost pulled me down. My friends Brenda and Brandon grabbed my hands and pulled me out.

We lived here until I was 9 years old, in 4th grade. My dad won the house in the divorce and forced my mother, my sister Kelly and I out. My mother had a month to find a job and a place for us to live. My sister Tammy moved out a year earlier.

Home Tour 1: Hardwood Floors and Toy Cars

2006-07-23T11:39:00.000-05:00

This is the first place I lived in Maple Grove. I lived here from July of 1975 until October of 78.

All I remember about it is shag carpeting and hardwood floors that I liked because I could play easily with my toy cars on them. I can almost picture my bedroom, the living room and the kitchen. I have no concept of where the other rooms were in relation to mine. I fell face-first on the driveway and cut my upper lip. I still have a scar. My mother, father, two sisters and I lived here until I was 4 I think.

The gigantic pine tree in the front yard was brought home in a plastic bag by my sister Tammy when she was in first grade. Apparently, my dad used to run it over with the lawnmower all the time.

This place is why my porn star name is Suki 69 because it's on 69th and my first pet was a cat named Suki.

Untitled

2006-07-20T22:08:00.000-05:00

Desirous of confidence
In a confidentially perspiring world
The filthy alleys in a suburban town
Are between grinning houses
Facades
Of what they are not
Joyously facetious
And conservatively smothering
I try to breathe
But I taste moldering decay
I wipe the sweat from my brow
On another summer day
The lawns fed by whirring sprinklers
While the children thirst for escapism
Buzzing static on the TV screens
Carnivourously coveting
Everything real
Everything their lives have become

Dated 3/30/98

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is what happens when a gay boy grows up repressed in the suburbs. He writes really bad poetry. There are a couple lines that seem okay, but overall what tripe! In 1998 I had my first coporate desk job and I was living in my own apartment. I forced myself not to edit this or make it sound better. I posted it on here as is. Ugh!! In everything I write, summer always equals bad. I never write anything positive about warm summer days. Cold features very prominently in just about everything I write, as a guy in my screenwriting class pointed out. I don't know where that comes from. I usually write spooky stuff and summer in the suburbs is never spooky. But very late on a bitter winter night, you can feel like you are the last person on earth wandering around the suburbs.

So Damn Predictable!

2006-07-17T14:26:00.000-05:00

I think I may have had some post-vacation euphoria for a while because I actually believed my summer depression wouldn't happen this year. Here it is! It doesn't help that this isn't just summer it's SUMMER with some of the hottest, most miserable days I have experienced this side of Florida in August. For the love of god why can't it be global COOLING?!! I am at a point where I am feeling overwhelmed by things. The car and everything financial surrounding it has added a lot of stress especially since I am not getting regular bonuses at my job anymore because they are fucked in the head. It's just too stupid and painful to go into details. I have decided (in the brief clarity that too much caffeine causes) to quit at least 2 addictions in my life practically cold turkey. That being said I joined Weight Watchers on Friday (Today is officially day one) and am moments from calling to cut off my cable. I WATCH TOO MUCH EFFING TV!! I am keeping Netflix, however, and plan to catch up on my shows that way. Way back in my unemployment days nothing got accomplished until my cable was involuntarily shut off. Once that happened, I wrote more than I have ever written before and I got a job. I tried to explain it away as coincidence, but I don't think so. Also, right now I have DVR and I have started to realize that if my DVR fills up with shows, I practically have anxiety that I haven't watched everything. It feels like a job like I am falling behind. Also, I have realized lately that television has given me a skewed perspective on real life. Not everyone is good looking and perfect and funny. I have to constantly remind myself of that. My depression takes hold pretty hard and sitting in front of my TV and eating is not helping things. Besides, what will I be missing? Crappy reality TV like "Big Brother : All-Stars"? All-Stars shows are a fucking waste of time, in my opinion. "Survivor: All-Stars" was terrible. What's next? "Amazing Race: All-Stars"? PUKE! Back to no cable: The only shows I will truly miss out on can be rented from Netflix eventually anyway. Not to mention, the shit is way too fucking expensive!! I can't keep paying for it (around $80/mo) and pay for my car insurance at the same time.

This cloud of depression will pass, like all clouds of depression pass. If this foul heat wave ever breaks I might even be able to figure out what my car runs like without air conditioning.

Da Rizzide

2006-07-12T18:59:00.000-05:00

Yes, I have joined the rest of the adult world and gotten a car. It's my sister's old one which she sold to me for a ridiculous discount. It's the newest car I have ever owned and it's in impeccable shape. It has caused moments of such sheer panic and terror, very much akin to post-traumatic stress. Ya see, this brings the horrid Blazer I purchased a few years ago rushing back to me. It was the biggest piece of shit I have ever driven. It cost $600, initially, an additional $1,200 in repairs before it died permanently after only 5 months and destroyed a friendship. I call it the last stupid mistake I made in my 20s.

Soap Box

2006-07-12T18:44:00.000-05:00

10 Reasons

01) Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.
02) Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.
03) Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.
04) Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.
05) Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Britany Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.
06) Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.
07) Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
08) Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.
09) Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.
10) Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.

Vintage Diary Entry 4: Wednesday, August 12, 1992

2006-07-09T09:48:00.000-05:00

1:35AM- Boy is this a day to go in my diary! I did it! No, not the proverbial "it" that you are thinking. I told Kelly! I handed this diary to her! She knows! I didn't even plan it, though. I was sitting in my room, feeling particularly depressed, actually contemplating suicide. And, ironically, the reason was that fact that Kelly and Sam are getting engaged. It wasn't that I was thinking about her; I couldn't be happier. Ity's that I was thinking about ME. I was being my usual self-centered self, by thinking about how happy she is going to be and how no matter what I can never be that happy because of the way I am. Mom and Kelly were about to go out to dinner again, leaving me by myself so that, I conceived, Kelly would be the center of attention yet again. I felt alone and bereft, and I sobbed for awhile on my bed. I was thinking of slashing my wrists after they left; seriously! I was planning on writing a heartfelt goodbye in this diary, then doing myself in with razors Sam used to make Kelly's folding door. But, before they left, Kelly came in my room to say goodbye. Immediately, she knew something was wrong. When she asked I told her nothing was wrong. She absolutely would NOT leave the room until I told her what was wrong. She shut the door shutting mom out. I began telling her lies lies, telling her that I was depressed about my job, and about how this summer has gone and everything, but she would not buy it. Finally, I relented. I unlocked the foot locker with trembling hands and took this book out. Without a word I handed it to her. I shuddered and sobbed as she read the introduction. I had an impulse to snatch it from her hands and lock it up again, but I was paralyzed. She read the crucial part. I waited for the bomb to drop. She looked up at me, all beautiful with her makeup and dressy clothes and perfume. I sat on my bed, waiting for her reaction. She sat on my floor and smiled, "Is this what you wanted me to read?" and she read the passage. Amazingly, I almost denied it, but it was far too late. Tears were in her eyes. Before I could say anything, she threw her arms around me and hugged me as we both sobbed. Then, she smiled at me, her mascara running and said, "I'm so proud of you. Thank you for tellimg me this. It took a lot to tell me this. Don't you think for one second that I love you any less. I love you more for trusting me with this." Soon after the melodrama of that scene, she apologized and left. She said we'd talk later. We did, when she got home. By then, I was floating on the highest, softest, warmest cloud in beautiful sunshine, surrounded by love and understanding for the first time in too many cold, dark lonely years. T0 my surprise, my mother came home first. She had been talking to Kelly. Kelly hadn't actually told her, but she must have hinted at it, for my mother asked what was wrong before they had left. I made up a bull-shit story about being worried about graduating high school and being on my own and very depressed. To my shock, she asked point-blank: "Are you gay?" I told her. She took it well, considering. She had a hard time with how I knew I was gay. "You can't be sure," she insisted. I told her how I knew. She still didn't buy it. Then she said that she didn't want that for me. She cried. Though I told her not to blame herself, she does. She thinks she could have done better for me. Later on, I talked to Kelly again and I got the shock of my life! She knew all along! "I knew since you were about that high." she said holding her hand 4 feet off the floor. "How?" I questioned. She said she just had a feeling...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was a big deal, but it isn't entirely the truth. I wanted attention. Shit-point-blank. There was so much BS that summer going on about the wedding. I would NEVER have fucking killed myself, either. I am completely incapable of suicide because if I get depressed enough, it turns into anger at everyone else that is depressing me. I was feeling totally ignored. It was pretty traumatic. Everybody else seemed to yawn about it. My problem was that I thought telling people was the only battle. I thought it would all be downhill from there and it fucking wasn't. I thought people not knowing was the root and cause of all of my emotional problems and by telling people I would feel normal. For the most part, it gave me a chip on my shoulder, as most teenagers and twentysomethings have. I was different, part of an alienated minority and EVERYTHING was about being gay. Thankfully, I have gotten over that. The main thing that cracks me up about this entry is my being surprised that she knew. In retrospect, I look back at some old pictures of myself and I immediately say: "What a fucking flamer!! Strangers had to have known!!" HAW HAW HAW Honestly, I'm lucky. A lot of gay guys out there get beaten, kicked out of their home and disowned or worse. Some others never tell anyone and live a lie ala "Brokeback Mountain". The part that pisses me off is that I had no guidance afterwards. I told everyone, now what? People knowing almost made me more lonely. I should have got the fuck out of the suburbs at the first opportunity. Hindsight is 20/20 though. It was what it was. And I lived through it.

My Inner Addict

2006-07-06T08:41:00.000-05:00

I have recently been re-reading all of Augusten Burrough's books. I absolutely NEED something good to read at work during lunch so I am not tempted to go downstairs and hit up a fast food joint. Instead, I sequester myself in an empty conference room with Lean Cuisine and a riveting book. I am currently re-reading "Dry" which I think would make a far better movie than "Running with Scissors". It's about his battle with alcoholism. One of the things his therapist told him was about that little voice inside that makes you do the things that you shouldn't do, that perpetuates your addiction, whatever it may be. It's called your inner addict. If you want to keep things secret, like the voice tells you to, the inner addict is telling you to. (In his case he never threw away any of his 1500 Dewars bottles and lived in squalor in Manhattan, though he was making more than enough money. He said the bottles were lined up 7 deep against the wall.) When you tell people about this secretive stuff, you are "Telling on your inner addict". I have been trying to figure out what I am addicted to. Well, what I am addicted to besides greasy food that is bad for me, TV, Netflix and coffee. Those are ones I openly acknowledge and intend to fight against. Those are ones I "tell on" all the time, but they are not the main one, the one who rules the roost of my emotional problems. They are not my main addiction. They are not the Inner Addict.

Today in the shower it hit me. [An aside: I seem to have tremendous revelations in the shower, by the way. Probably because water is such a spiritual thing to me. I truly believe that water is my higher power.] I am addicted to my own loneliness. I find it so hard to leave my apartment alone. If I am going to meet someone or if someone is picking me up I can vault out the door. I also have no problem leaving to go to work or school. I have a problem going to lectures or support groups or coffee shops or walks around Lake Calhoun or gay reading groups or ANYTHING that might possibly help me meet cool new people. When I do meet cool new people I have forgotten how to make room for them in my life or be their friend. See, more friends means more time away from my apartment, where I can be lonely. My inner addict tells me I am ugly and worthless and boring and damaged goods, and that no one will ever find me attractive or worthwhile. It tells me everything that keeps me addicted to loneliness. It's absolutely getting repulsive and boring. When I look in the mirror lately, something has started to change. I'm starting to see myself differently. I don't know if it's being in my thirties or what, but I see some kind of fire behind my eyes. There is a lot going on, there is almost a confidence there. I'm on my way to kicking the shit out of this inner addict. I just have to silence that voice by going out and doing things, breaking out of this suffocating comfort zone, as scary as it it.

Vintage Diary Entry 3: Sunday, January 3, 1993

2006-07-03T18:58:00.000-05:00

10:27 PM- I’ve been thinking a lot about a remark my mother made the other day. I’ve tried to get it out of my mind, but I can’t. It was my mom, my sister Kelly and I. We were sitting at breakfast at Baker’s Square. We were talking about me moving out and being on my own. “You won’t get much help with furniture,” my mom said, “and no one is going to give you any wedding presents if some guy moves in with you.” That one little statement has confirmed something I have suspected all along. My mother has never and will never accept the fact that I’m gay. Those words embarrassed me and made me feel like a total ass! Kelly accepts it (or at least she’s putting on a great act that she does) but mom never will. Maybe I should just try to deal with that. I’ve tried my hardest to accept the fact that I can never lead a normal life. I can never have the house, the car and the kids. NEVER! If I’m ever happy or loved by another human being it will be from behind closed doors. It’s scary as hell, too! The stuff I read about gay bars and “sidewalk sales”. Who would ever “buy” me? I’m overweight, shy, ugly, I think too much of myself, and most of all, I’m weak. On the plus side, there’s my writing and my sense of humor. I don’t think some attractive gay guy would ever come up to me and say: “You are a great writer with a wonderful sense of humor. Do you want to go out sometime?” But, who knows. Maybe someone is crazy enough to love me. I know I’m dying to love and to be loved.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Where the hell did I read about "Sidewalk Sales"? For those not in the know, Sidewalk Sales supposedly happen after the gay bar closes and everyone lines up outside, hoping someone who is interested comes up and picks them out to go home for a night of wild, anonymous sex. Like some twisted version of a pet store or an orphanage. Pick me pick me pick me!!! HAW HAW HAW!! Figures that I would think the same philosophy that applies to picking sides for a kickball team in 5th grade would apply to gay bars. Boy was I deluded. I should have cussed my mom's ass out for saying what she did. She was learning. I cringe when I describe myself that bluntly. The part that doesn't fit is "I think too much of myself". I think the better way to phrase that would be "I'm selfish." But I didn't truly figure that out until I tried living with roommates a few more years down the line. My good friend Sarabellem who has posted some Vintage entries of her own said that she is smiling and getting a bit weepy about the earnest girl she used to be. I want to smack the hell out of myself.

You can get ANYTHING on the internet these days!!

2006-07-03T17:50:00.000-05:00

Vintage Diary Entry 2: Tuesday, June 30th, 1992

2006-07-01T08:34:00.000-05:00

Today is my birthday. Guess what I got? One dollar from my grandma, $5 from one of my friends, and a card from my mom. That's all. She didn't get me anything else. She spent more on Crickett's birthday which was yesterday. Crickett is a fucking CAT! She got her 2 toys and a CAKE! You know, this summer is turning into a fucking sick joke. I don't even know why I had high hopes that I might have a good birthday seeing the way the rest of this summer has gone. That's all.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HAW HAW HAW!! ONE DOLLAR from my grandma?! I know that inflation exists but holy SHIT that's cheap. My sister Kelly had the same curse. She remembers birthday cakes that said "Happy Birthday Kelly and Keesha". Keesha was a Siamese we had. This was my 17th birthday, though. I was old enough to get into rated R movies. I'm surprised i didn't mention that. One of my friends and I used to buy tickets for something else and then sneak into the Rated R ones. It was a big deal.

Vintage Diary Entry 1: Saturday, August 13, 1994

2006-06-30T06:55:00.000-05:00

(see the entry below this titled "trienta y uno" first)

11:58PM- I never finshed that last entry. I got sidetracked somehow. Anyway, that's not important. I want to write about someone else now. Help! It's another co-worker! I'm smarter this time, though. I absolutely refuse to allow things to get to the point they got to with Bagboy. Frankly, I try not to speak to this guy. His name is Sexy and he is so HOT I can't even do justice by trying to describe him. I'll try. He's tan as hell, has dark brown hair, big biceps and an awesome chest that is glimpsed because he never buttons the two buttons of our uniform polo shirts. His ass ain't too bad, either. Anyway, there's more. He's also quite a cocky asshole. He seems to think that every girl that works there wants him. Do they? I don't know. I do! Anyway, he's a real jerk. It seems I always fall for sexy jerks. What's wrong with me? It's really hard to work with someone that sexy, though. I can't be ringing up some old lady and be thinking about going down on Sexy. Somehow, those two things don't really go together in your mind if you want to stay sane. Sarabellem says the reason I'm so uptight and unhappy is because I need a good fuck. She's probably right. She always is. I know there's no chance with Sexy. That doesn't mean I can't look, though. And then of course, there's my fantasies which are almost enough. God, I have a vivid imagination! Too bad I can't turn it off when Sexy walks by and I'm ringing up old ladies. Later.
______________________________________________________________

Anything in bold was changed from the original version to protect the innocent (or guilty). We worked together at The Mart (insert whichever Mart you feel like, there). I wonder sometimes if our uniform polo shirts didn't look so good on him if I wouldn't have been dragged headlong into the mess that was to come. This guy, Sexy, became a good friend. I found out later he was my neighbor. I still talk to him today, though things are drastically different. I certainly don't pine over him like I did for FAR too long. Through his friendship I smoked my first cigarette (well, Red had something to do with that, too) got drunk for the first time, got high for the first time and threw more humiliating tantrums than I can count. In fact, I've often thought itf he was taken out it might be a good thing, because then no one would be left alive that was there when I freaked out so many times. I blame the drinking and the drugs and my supreme naivete. I blame low self-esteem. There's no real rejection when you pine for straight guys because you know from the jump that nothing can ever happen. I blame the damn polo shirts.

treinta y uno

2006-06-30T06:31:00.000-05:00

Yup, officially 31 now. It feels a little different than 30 did, but not much. Plans? Going for drinks and dinner tonight with some friends. Gifts? So far my mom gave me The Bette Davis Collection, volume one. 5 of her films. I'm such a fag! Haw haw. 30 was not a bad year. In fact it was one of the better ones I can remember. The day I turned 30 I flew to New York City, and I had seen San Francisco before I turned 31. My next step will be to see more of the east coast next summer, probably with my friend Tina. I also have a chance to go to Chicago next month, maybe Wisconsin Dells later this summer, and possibly New York in the fall. Here's hoping 31 is as exciting as 30 was. My good friend Sarabellem has started posting vintage diary entries on her blog. What a kick-ass idea. She put one on there from when she was 19 that talked about "Dealing with shakycam's homosexuality just gets easier every day..." HAW HAW HAW!! I never knew it was a problem. Everybody basically YAWNED when I told them I was gay. It was the least dramatic thing I have ever done. Well, besides my sister and my mom anyway. I don't think I ever forgave everyone for not making a big deal out of it and lashed out by using drugs and alcohol. At least, that's MY excuse. So, I am going to take the cue from Sarabellem (I know I'm a total biter!) and start posting "vintage" diary entries on here, too. Prepare to laugh your ass off!!

Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry

2006-06-27T18:04:00.000-05:00

I decided it would be a good idea to go to the Gay Pride Festival at Loring Park, so The Nurse and I went. It was interesting and an eye-opening experience. I hadn't been to a Pride event in a long time. Frankly, I think having the courage to come out and gain acceptance is something to feel proud of but not just the fact that I am attracted to the same sex. And I find it hard to believe that just because me and a bunch of other guys are all attracted to guys makes us a community. I've stayed away for a few years. I was actually glad I went, though. I had forgotten how many unattractive gay men there were. Before you write off what I just wrote as the height of snipey bitchiness, realize that I have been living under the delusion that every gay man out there is an Abercrombie & Fitch model. Certainly, most of the noticeable ones are. Then there's the standard stereotype, all the hottest guys are gay, blah blah blah. I had forgotten. It was a very positive experience. I also got a free HIV and Syphlis test. I'm HIV negative (did you know you can get the results in 20 mins these days?!). Syphlis I find out about on my birthday (June 30th). "Happy Birthday, you have Syphlis." After getting my STD tests, I drove in the pouring rain and got lost on the way to my new niece and nephew's baptism. I was 15 minutes late, got baptised myself by the rain running into the church, then sniggered at the dramatic roll of thunder that boomed as I openend the door to the church. "They KNOW!" I giggled through some of the cermeony, then checked out hot guys kneeling at the altar to receive communion.

The Return

2006-06-21T21:39:00.000-05:00

Welcome to San Francisco. The land of beautiful vistas and knee breaking hills, the land of rickety but stalwart cable cars, the land of the sneaky sunburn masked by a cool breeze, the land of roving bands of street punks and pushy homeless people who will do ANYTHING for a handful of change, even disguise themselves as bushes and dart out at unlucky tourists, whose chuckling, often drunken friends fork over some cash. The land of the Castro where you can sit on the balcony at Metro City Bar and be catty and laugh with your friends about EVERYONE who walks by; the land where the perfect gay couple ALWAYS comes equipped with the perfect gay couple's dog. The land of Haight-Ashbury where the hippie free-love spirit is long since dead, replaced by grungy gutter punks, the Gap and money-money-money, yes that’ll be $17.50 EACH for that fleeting feeling of peace-love you just felt. The land where Barbary Lane is actually called Macondary Lane and you walk right to it without even realizing you are doing so. The land of pushy Chinese tourists, elbowing their way onto the number 30 bus to get to Chinatown and packing themselves in 40-deep. The land of rocking, stinking, sweaty rides on packed-packed-packed buses whose crowds magically dissipate without you even noticing. The land where every few blocks has a Walgreens and very few McDonald's can be found. The land where two blocks to your left often means scaling Street Everest, a 45-degree street that ends somewhere in the clouds. The land where you don’t need screens or air conditioning because there are no bugs and no hot summers. The land of Alcatraz Island with its famed audio tour and swooping flocks of angry and PROTECTED BY LAW seagulls, milling about and coming up to knee height who do INDEED seem to inquire, endlessly: Mine? Mine? Mine? The land of Cliff House, Palace of Fine Arts, Palace of the Legion of Honor, The Presidio and Alamo Square, and more natural beauty than you should be able to pack into one peninsula. The land of "That was in 'Vertigo'". Ultimately, the land of confusion when you realize that San Francisco, beautiful and serene and magical San Francisco, may not be the end of the rainbow you always, sight unseen, assumed it was.

a more full report is coming. patience.

Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers In Your Hair

2006-06-13T22:28:00.000-05:00

Off to San Francisco for a vacation at 4AM tomorrow. I have a day alone and then The Nurse and Math-girl are joining me. First time there, peeing my pants with excitement, etc. It's also a requirement somewhere in the Gay Man's Union to visit Mecca at least once in your lifetime, so at least I won't be voted off the island or whatever. Alcatraz, Cliff House, Castro, Haight, North Beach, Golden Gate Park, Alamo Square, Golden Gate Bridge... WOO-HOO!! Hopefully, it won't be a repeat of the disastrous start to my New York trip last year, where my flight got cancelled. It's amazing all the things that can go wrong; damn my vivid imagination. Anyway, off to try to feign some sort of sleep. I have to be up in 5 hours!! Full details when I'm back. Have a great week everybody!

HGHC

2006-06-10T19:11:00.000-05:00

WTF?!! Remember the post a few back called Embarrassing Moment? The one where the hot guy in the hot car drove me to distraction and the other cute guy quipped Brokeback on me? The hot guy from the hot car [heretofore referred to as HGHC] was just in my neighborhood!! No idea why. I was sitting near the window and I saw a cute dark-haired guy walking down the street. As he got closer I saw bulging biceps, expensive clothes, confident swagger... It was HGHC! His car (whatever the hell kind it is) was parked in front of my building. In quick succession, I snapped one photo of him:

Stupid flash!! The screen was down!! You can see the vague outline of his car in the bottom left. I ripped the screen up just as HGHC was getting in his car. BITE ME!! At least I got the car, though:

See the brake lights? The car growled and roared down the street right after that.

I want to think he's TOTALLY stalking me. Gee. Hope I'm not caught UNAWARE in the alley behind my apartment tonight at 9:15 PM...

See. A stalker would OBSESSIVELY check my blog. Right?

Irony

2006-06-10T19:00:00.000-05:00

Meowers

2006-06-03T15:14:00.000-05:00

These are the elusive "Meowing Photos" of my cats. They are elusive on a digital camera because of the delay. As of today, I finally have a full set. I had to make Haxan VERY mad to get his, but it's worth it. He'll forgive me someday. Notice how Princess Mimi (the first one) sticks her tongue out? tee hee.

Embarrassing Moment

2006-06-01T21:35:00.000-05:00

This hot guy in a hot car that I have seen before was out in front of my building on my way back from lunch looking even hotter because of the weather. Sigh... I was so busy staring I almost ran full-force into a cute straight guy coming out the door who instantly figured out why I wasn't paying attention. He laughed and said: "Easy, cowboy." Stupid Brokeback Mountain.

Shower Scene

2006-05-31T06:28:00.000-05:00

Blearily stumbling into the bathroom this morning, I turned the shower on and felt the nice, warm water, slowly wake me up after a pretty restless night. Sans glasses, I openend my eyes and saw a dark shape on the wall near the shower rod. It was large and it wasn't normally there. My first thought was: Moth? No. Such. Luck. CENTIPEDE!! Huge, horrifying, long-legged, vile, quick-moving, fangs-drooling, put on this earth to horrify and disgust me personally CENTIPEDE!! The scream of horror and revulsion must have been heard for miles. I dashed out of the shower and stood there, wet, soap in my hair, trembling with revulsion. This was a HUGE ONE, too. I'd call it a bantam-weight. I splashed water on it and after a short battle forced it down the drain. Since I assumed that was where it came from I found the most lethal fluid I have (Clorox Toilet Bowl Cleaner) and squirted half the bottle down the drain, too. I still haven't recovered. Of all the insects in Minnesota, centipedes are the ONLY ONE that can freak me out to this extent, where my entire body is wracked with continual waves of revulsion and horror. They freak me out so bad, it literally hurts.

Nothing like some sheer, paralyzing terror to start the day off right!!

P. S. Okay, I truly heart Wikipedia. According to the best website on earth, these are house centipedes. You can read about them here. Apparently, they are beneficial to our homes, and though horrifying in appearance they kill spiders, roaches, termites and silverfish. The discussion page is pretty funny, too, describing people's various experiences with them. One person found one in his shower and had no clue how it could have gotten there. He said: "I am half-convinced they teleport." Another said that they can even kill wasps with hardly any strain.

P. P. S. I'm all about them killing other things in my apartment. Munch away, centipedes, I just don't want to see you or know you are here.

Chi HOT LAY!!

2006-05-30T22:19:00.000-05:00

Apparently, the Chipotle in Uptown is THE place to see and be seen. Or, the place to check out a constant and dizzying array of gorgeous men. WTF?!! Who knew? The nurse and I figured the male to female ratio was about 6-1, and just about EVERY guy in there was gorgeous. We sat outside strategically positioned so she could see them coming in and I could see them waiting in line. There were all types of hot guys, too, not just your standard suburban preppie pretty boys. There were model-types, scruffy guys, hipsters, dudes with dreads, a cop built like a brick shithouse (whom The Nurse noticed wasn't actually fat, he had a bullet-proof vest on), preppy guys, surfer guys, punks, roughnecks, etc, etc. WTF?!!

It was good for people watching ALONE, let alone watching the sexy guys who MORE THAN ONCE flashed their nice smiles in my flabberghasted direction. WOW!! I think I have a new favorite hangout!

Why The Nurse Should Pick Up Her Swimsuit and Towel ASAP

2006-05-30T16:46:00.000-05:00

"BAD!"

Memorial Day Massacre: A Retrospective and a New Resolution

2006-05-30T08:56:00.000-05:00

I just got off the phone with one of my friends and it made me realize something. I haven't been doing a good job of maintaining ALL of my friendships lately. A few of my friends have become SPECIAL OCCASION friends; basically the equivalent of HOLIDAY FAMILY. The people you only see when it's someone's birthday. I forgot that I used to be the one that kept some of those friendships together. I used to be pushy and aggressive with friends, forcing the bonds to remain strong and always inviting EVERYONE to things that we would do. There are a few people I have lost touch with lately and I don't like it. These are people I really care about.

I made a resolution last year around this time. Remember the Memorial Day Massacre, when I had the worst hangover of my life that lasted 3 days? I can honestly say that I have only been DRUNK (notice all-caps?) once since then, and that time resulted in nothing more than mild bed-spins. So I call that a success. My next resolution will be to put back together what I have let (through sheer LAZINESS) fall apart, more or less. Particularly with 2 people.

Don't get me wrong, there are others that things have fallen apart with that I think is for the best. I'm just not the person they remember and they are the people I remember. I was at my most self-destructive when I was around them (and was reminded very recently that if I get around them I STILL AM) and though they pine for the "good old days" I heave the largest sigh of relief in the WORLD that it's all behind me and that I am not that pathetic freak anymore.

All of that aside I am going to start small. There are 2 people that I am going to mend fences with, two people I really care about. Two people I want to try to see more of. One of them may actually need my help. The last resolution worked out, why not this one?

H-O-T!!!

2006-05-29T11:33:00.000-05:00

It's so fucking hot right now I think I may be risking my health typing this short blog entry about it. The A-C is whirring away in my bedroom and I'm in the stifling living room. If I weren't broke I would go to a movie just to escape. You see, we have had a record-breaking Memorial Day weekend. Hottest on record!! Lucky us. For me, I am sincerely wishing for global COOLING not warming. We had a wimpy-ass winter and the hot, humid, buggy, sweaty, blow my brains out NOW weather strts EARLY?!! I will from here on out be summering in Antarctica! FUCK THIS WEATHER!! [Passes out in a sweaty pool on keyboard]

Crazy Boredom?

2006-05-28T09:27:00.000-05:00

Not yet. I thought for sure once school was out I would go insane with boredom and get really depressed. It hasn't happened yet, but it HAS been less than a month. To tell you the truth I am in the process of trying my hand at a feature length screenplay. To that end, I am trying to accomplish some research that will include a trip to Louisville, KY in the near future. I am also planning a trip to NYC with my friend Mack in the fall to see "Wicked". So maybe the key to avoiding crazy boredom is making plans.

I also got dragged into some stupid drama yesterday. One of my friends, Scorpio, sent me a terse email accusing me of not letting her know that her ex-boyfriend was back in town and doing very well for himself. This was confided in a mutual friend who totally busted me out. I sent a reply, but didn't take her bait. She is with a new guy and has his child but has always been obsessed with her ex. I refused to fuel her obsession because I am not that person anymore. I am happy with the maturity that most of my friends exhibit and none of it involves needless drama. In fact, I can say that my life has been refreshingly devoid of interpersonal drama for the past year or more. One of the main reasons Scorpio and I haven't been getting along or speaking lately is because she hasn't changed. She's still mired in that drug and alcohol-fueled drama that marked the majority of my twenties and made them the waste of time they were. Is this one of the hallmarks of adulthood, being over drama and just rolling your eyes at it? Accroding to Carrie Bradshaw another one is delayed gratification, which I am still working on.

Haxan and Mimi

2006-05-18T10:05:00.000-05:00

Gavin

2006-05-18T10:03:00.000-05:00

The Depression Quadrilogy

2006-05-11T23:16:00.000-05:00

I wrote the stuff below at work in the midst of a raging depression. Emailed it to myself to be placed here. It's a bit like taking all of my clothes off and standing in front of a crowd, but here's what goes on in my head when I'm depressed, in four parts. Hopefully, people can relate to it.

Part One: Maudlin
God, I really just hate this. I hate how I feel. I hate having no energy to do anything but sit and stare at the tv in my dirty apartment with dirty dishes and dirty laundry and still being tired enough to go to bed even though I have expended NO energy doing the things I should. I hate feeling like I have nothing to look forward to. I hate feeling useless, like if I was gone it would barely cause a ripple anywhere. Someone else would rent my apartment, someone else would be sitting in my cube, my cats and DVDs would be divided among my relatives and someone else would take over my queue here at work. I feel like I don't matter, in the scheme of things. I have no family, I have no legacy, I have nothing. I have even thought lately that I should try to adopt a kid. That's a big laugh, right? They'd never give me one. I just-- I'm so tired of being completely selfish and self-obsessed and feeling like nothing I do really matters. At least if I was raising a kid I could have something to motivate me, something to force me out of bed every day someone ELSE to obsess over besides myself.

I know that if I dropped dead in my apartment it would be days and maybe weeks before anyone noticed and that is the most horrifying, empty feeling. I have even though lately that I should check in with my friend The Nurse once every other day or so just so she knows I am still alive. If she doesn't hear from me one of those times, she should immediately assume I am dead and call the coroner to remove my body.

Sorry. It's just a cancer and I need to get all of this out. I know, I know, what makes me so fuckin special, right? God, depression is so god-awful maudlin and tired. It's just so-- NINETIES!! What I should really do is channel all of this angst into something useful creatively but fuck if I know what it is.

Part Two: Confession
One more thing. I think I'm afraid of my neighborhood. Or at the very least I use that as an excuse as to why I rarely leave my apartment. I'm afraid I'm going to get robbed, shot in the crossfire or beaten up simply because I am white or because I am gay. I suddenly feel like I have been stripped bare naked by admitting that, but it is the god's honest truth. I am afraid of all kinds of horrible things happening to me if I am not going to work or if am walking around alone. The only place I truy feel safe these days is when I am home with the door locked and my curtains drawn. I even feel like a stray bullet may hit me when I am sitting on my couch in my living room but only if I have the blinds up.

Part Three: Dementors
The Dementors from Harry Potter are the perfect symbol for depression. They float around harassing you and suck your life force; they make you terrified, they make you feel like you will never be happy again and the best way to battle how they make you feel is chocolate. The way to defeat them is with confidence and most importantly, anger like gasoline with happiness as the match. I'm going to get through this, one way or another. My depression is making me afraid of things around me. It's making me afraid of the things that will make me feel better. It wants to exist. It's like being possessed by a demon, one that uses your fears and self-esteem issues to take root and hold on.

Part Four: Chocolate
Took a cue from Harry Potter. I had some chocolate. I feel better now.

Anniversa-BANG!!!!!

2006-05-04T21:36:00.000-05:00

So this one's from the archives, but I absolutely have to commemorate the [INSERT HORRIFIED GASP] TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY of one of the stupidest experiences of my young, destructive twenties.

May 4, 1996
I try to tell myself that things will be different this time. It’s me, The Italian Stallion and Blondie hurtling down the highway toward Ridgedale again, but so much has changed. I’m homeless now, Blondie is living with her grandmother and The Italian Stallion has a gun. A BIG gun. It’s a 44 Bulldog Special. 44s always did the most damage to zombies heads in Resident Evil. But this is 1996. I won’t know about Resident Evil for at least 2 more years.

Blondie is aiming the gun at the floor of the car, a manic gleam in her eyes. I’m freaking out at her. “Don’t you pull that fucking trigger. I WILL FUCK YOU UP!!” Who knows what will happen? We are flying down the freeway at sixty miles per hour. To this day no one has been able to explain to me what would have happened if she blew a hole in the passenger side of that car as we were driving. She eventually passes the gun back to The Stallion who shoves it back in his backpack. He gives me his, “No harm done” smile.

Later that night, we are in a darkened theater, “Leaving Las Vegas” flickering on the screen. During a boring part, I notice that The Stallion has the damn thing in the theater. I roll my eyes again. Does he think we’re going to get held up in Minnetonka? For what god-forsaken reason does he have the damn thing anyway? Another suburban white boy playing gangster.

It’s dark when we get out of the depressing movie and we all want to get drunk. Nothing new for us. Maybe we found the brutal images of Nicholas Cage drinking himself to death particularly inspiring. The Stallion has a fake ID so he scores us a bottle of Bacardi Limon and some of those fruity Jack Daniels things. Where to drink becomes the dilemma. Normally we’d just go hang out in a field somewhere and get “shitty” as we call it. But, this being Minnesota and all, the beginning of May doesn’t necessarily mean warm and balmy. There is a fine mist sifting down. I know my mother is not home at the moment. She goes to her boyfriend’s home up north every weekend. We head to Da Grove and try to break into the home I am not welcome in at the moment. We fail. We eventually end up at the Starlite Motel in Hilltop, a tiny, trailer-park ridden suburb I never knew existed until I opened the dingy curtains and saw the water tower.

May 5, 1996. Cinco DeMayo
A few hours later (past midnight), we are drunk as hell and completely out of liquor. The Stallion says that he and I should go back to his Aunt’s house and get his spare bottle of Captain Morgan’s. Blondie should wait at the hotel and we should leave her with the gun to “protect herself”. It makes perfect sense to me, even though this is a sleepy suburb of Minneapolis where you can probably walk down the street naked with hundred dollar bills strapped to your body and the most that will happen is someone will call 911 to send the paddy wagon because they are highly offended.

I try standing as The Stallion loads a fourth hollow point bullet into the hand cannon. He normally keeps three in there, he told me. He adds a fourth in case Blondie needs to use it while we are gone. Then, he reasons, when he comes back, with the dead intruder on the floor minus a face, his trusty Bulldog will have the usual 3 bullets in it and all will be right with the world. Again, it makes total sense to me as I sit cross-legged on the bed across from him. He is showing Blondie how to use it. He aims. He pulls the trigger.

The noise. The smoke. The fire coming from the barrel that just singed me. There is nothing else. My ears are damaged beyond repair because there is some kind of weird warbling hum. MY GOD THE ROOM IS FULL OF FUCKING SMOKE!! FIRE FIRE!!

But something else has happened. Pause. Rewind.

BANG-fire-smoke-slight jerk in my body-hummmmm...

The fire from that gun really burned me. Even through the pillow on my lap. No. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

“Youjustfuckingshotme...”

“No, I didn’t.”

I pull the pillow off my lap and the cotton stretches into the hideous wound just above my knee. Panic, screaming, tears. Oh my god I’m going to fucking DIE!! I just got shot. People DIE when they get shot. It’s all over. The Stallion is talking about leaving and how we shouldn‘t mention his name when the cops get there. I start screaming in rage when I see him giving Blondie a passionate goodbye kiss by the door. Amazingly no one has gone for the phone which is right there. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES CALL THE POLICE!!”

Blondie shuts the door and loses it. “Ohmygoddude, ohmygoddude, ohmygodude...”

“BLONDIE GIVE ME THE FUCKING PHONE!!”

I call 911 and explain. Just been shot. Some godforsaken motel in Hilltop. I’m going to die. Please help. No. The guy who did it is gone. Don’t let me die. God it fucking hurts. Jesus, I’m still drunk. Don’t let me die. I’m never going to walk again.

The cops are there in about 30 seconds and they promptly point their guns at me. Shit, they’re here to finish me off, I raise my shaking hands in the air. The cops rush in and Blondie is a blonde blur going out the door. I don’t see her again that night. One big cop sends the other bed flying against the wall with a powerful kick and points his gun at the dust bunnies on the floor beneath it. Another kicks in the bathroom door. They look vaguely disappointed as they come to me and demand that I tell them who did this. I start sobbing and flailing saying that “I don’t know, I don’t know...”

A few seconds later the paramedics arrive and the cops are shooed away. They strap me on some blue plastic thing and carry me out. We’re on the second floor of one of those open air motels. A crowd has gathered down below. They carry me headfirst down the stairs, my bare feet catching the frigid, misty wind. I am at about a 45 degree angle, but I’m strapped in pretty good and these guys are strong. They toss me in an ambulance, strap an oxygen mask over my face to get me high and then ask me what hospital I want to go to. Since I’m still drunk and rapidly becoming woozy and light-headed from the pure oxygen I mumble something about the hospital I was born in. They ignore my request and we go bumping along to Hennepin County Medical Center in the heart of Murderapolis, sirens wailing.

It’s about 3AM when we arrive and there’s a lot going on. People OD-ing, drunks, angry fistfights, one guy comes in covered in blood and has to be tied down by five cops, all the while saying: “Stop-it-stop-it-stop-it-stop-it...” Even when he is sufficiently trussed up and left alone, he continues “Stop-it-stop-it-stop-it-stop-it...” I am shoved into a tiny curtained-off cubicle and left alone.

I’m still drunk. Someone behind the curtain on my left is crying.

I Heart Digital Photography

2006-04-24T23:56:00.000-05:00

These are a few of my favorite recent photos from a short road trip Sarabellem and I went on.

Here's Me!!

2006-04-22T18:51:00.000-05:00

07/07/07

2006-04-09T09:34:00.000-05:00

Hmm... Sounds like an apocalyptic date or something. Like 06/06/06. That's actually the date when the final book (as yet untitled) and the 5th movie in the Harry Potter series comes out. I know this is a bizarre post for me, but I just wanted to share this info. I have been a fan of Harry Potter since winter of 2001, though the last 2 books were huge, thundering duds in my opinion. At least it will be over. No more fucking waiting.

See A Perfect Forest Through So Many Splintered Trees

2006-04-06T10:26:00.000-05:00

My friend The Anomaly is planning her wedding and asked me to help her pick out a song for the slide show of her life before meeting her fiancee. It needs to be a song that describes her. For me, it was weird. How could you not know which song describes you? There is a song which totally and completely describes almost every aspect of my life without question. It is "Haunted" by Poe. Check out the lyrics below:

Haunted

Ba da pa pa ba da pa pa...

Come here

Pretty please

Can you tell me where I am

You
Won't you say something

I need to get my bearings

I'm lost

And the shadows keep on changing

And I'm haunted

By the lives that I have loved

And actions I have hated

I'm haunted

By the lives that wove the web

Inside my haunted head

Ba da pa pa ba da pa pa...

Don't cry

There's always a way

Here in November in this house of leaves

We'll pray

Please, I know it's hard to believe

See a perfect forest

Through so many splintered trees

You and me

And these shadows keep on changing

And I'm haunted

By the lives that I have loved

And actions I have hated

I'm haunted

By the promises I've made

And others I have broken

I'm haunted

By the lives that wove the web

Inside my haunted head

Hallways... always

I'll always want you

I'll always need you

I'll always love you

And I will always miss you

Ba da pa pa ba da pa pa...

Come here

No I won't say please

One more look at the ghost

Before I'm gonna make it leave

Come here

I've got the pieces here

Time to gather up the splinters

Build a casket for my tears

I'm haunted

(By the lives that I have loved)

I'm haunted

(By the promises I've made)

I'm haunted

By the hallways in this tiny room

The echoes there of me and you

The voices that are carrying this tune
Ba da pa pa...

Why the Cryptic, Man?

2006-04-05T06:45:00.000-05:00

I'm not teasing, I'm not being an asshole. I had to acknowledge that something happened and move on. If I hadn't put anything out there, I think I may have gone insane. Believe me, someday I will let it all out, or as much as I am willing to share. I was in no physical danger, I didn't randomly hook up with some stranger and have a frightening experience. Basically, I played emotional Russian Roulette and I think I may have lost.

This blog has always been a catharsis. It has been a way for me to put my shit out there and say: "Hey! Here's my shit! Here's all the fucked up shit that goes on in my head. Now that I have shared it with everyone, it's not so fucked up anymore." In fact, some of the stuff that I have put on here has been akin to exorcising demons. Someday, last Saturday night may become another demon I need to exorcise.

Again, someday. Not yet. More than anything, I have always been in over-share mode. I think our reality tv as psychotherapy culture encourages that. I don't know if it is always the most healthy thing in certain circumstances. This is one of those circumstances.

Das Babies

2006-04-04T07:12:00.000-05:00

Gavin Kirk Wilson was 4 pounds, 11 ounces.

Ava Lee Wilson was 4 pounds, 4 ounces.

Mommy, babies and daddy are all doing fine. The babies are tiny and adorable. They may be the beginning of getting over my babies are no big deal thing. They have to be in the hospital for a couple of weeks because they are so tiny and when I saw them they were in an incubator.

More to come.

The April Fool

2006-04-02T14:25:00.000-05:00

I am in the Twilight Zone. Something incredibly messed up happened to me last night, something I plan to take to my grave. Something weird and psychotic and confusing. My sister is in the hospital about to deliver twins two months premature. She has Preaclampsyia and they have to induce her. I know that I will look at those precious darlings for the rest of my life and smile and remember with a shudder of horror the night before they were born. On top of all of that, it's Daylight Saving time so it feels an hour earlier than it is. And it is raining off and on, my ceiling started leaking and I got about 2 hours of fitful sleep very early this morning, after being rained on for a half an hour waiting for the bus at 7AM (felt like 6AM) in a bad neighborhood. Funny how the thugs leave you alone when you are crazy enough to stand in the cold April downpour singing along with Liz Phair on your Ipod at top volume. My shoes are soaked, my coat is soaked, and I have had too much coffee. We all have our secrets, man. Last night is mine. I think it may show up very cryptically in something I write one day. Here's to the babies, man. Welcome to this crazy fucked up world, guys.

In Case of Emergency...

2006-03-31T06:20:00.000-06:00

On Wednesday my sister was rushed to the hospital. She's pregnant with twins and her blood pressure was dangerously high. They are keeping her in the hospital for observation until she has the babies now. My mother left a message on my answering machine informing me of what was going on, even though I had my cell phone on me. I was horribly upset by this and after some thought I think what bothers me the most about a random message being left on my machine is that I wasn't one of the first ones to know. My sister is probably the most important person to me and I was an afterthought. My mom was THERE. It made me realize that I am not the first one ANYONE would call if there was an emergency of some kind. I'm on the list of people you call after the crisis has passed, but I'm not included in the hand-holding, let's get through this part. I am not ANYONE'S in case of emergency person. On people's brutally-honest, hey that's the breaks kid, priority list of life I am not the first on ANYONE'S. At most, I am second on a few, third fourth or fifth on others.

Then, I had an epiphany. Maybe you are not truly loved unless you are someone's in case of emergency person. It's basically saying, when things go wrong I know you will drop everything and be there for me. Nobody feels that way about me and it feels incredibly empty. Most of it is situational. Parents and significant others, by NATURE are the first ones that you would have someone call. But I'm not anyone's parent or significant other. Maybe life is about our quest for being someone's in case of emergency person.

The Mistake on Line 15

2006-03-30T09:29:00.000-06:00

I got a letter in the mail yesterday from Minnesota Dept of Revenue demanding that I pay $48 more on my taxes. Apparently I made a mistake on "Line 15". Having no clue what the fuck that meant I called this morning and found out that I mistakenly used the "Married, Filing Joint" line instead of "Single, filing lonely and destitute for the rest of my life until I'm dead from it" line when I calculated my witholding. Therefore, I owe $48 more than I paid. It's all kind of tragic when it's laid out like that. $48. That $48 is a badge of shame. It's what makes me a second class citizen. It's one of the deciding factors in the last travesty of an election. There will probably NEVER be a time in my life when I won't owe that $48. How absolutely fucking humiliating. I send in $48 and the governement can rest easy knowing I am single. And what will my $48 go to? Better roads? Better schools? Gay marriage bans? The War on Terror? Lobbyists? Activists? "The Children"? I am half-determined to take a stand; to not pay my shameful $48. Not for gay marriage, not for anything even slightly GAY AGENDA ORIENTED. No. For single people. For single people like me who have never been in a relationship, don't have the slightest prospects for one anytime soon and may be too lazy, immature and self-centered to ever actually be in one. But the road to Hell is paved with bad credit and I don't need somebody ELSE telling me that I owe them money. I have 60 days to pay it, after all. 60 days to come to terms with being single and paying my $48 single union dues. What a fucking world. Maybe, when I write the check out I will put in the memo: "Because I'm single and PROUD, bitch!!"

Bumper Sticker

2006-03-26T08:57:00.000-06:00

The best bumper sticker I have seen in a long time:

"Draft SUV Drivers First"

A Milestone and Some Nosy Bitches

2006-03-18T21:14:00.000-06:00

Okay, a few updates. A long time ago (Last June to be exact) I started a series of 4 horrid trips to the dentist. As of last Wednesday, the long nightmare is over. I had several cavities filled and had a very expensive crown put in. But it's fucking OVER!! When I grumbled and forked over the cash to the chick at the front desk she asked me if I would like to schedule my next cleaning. I looked at her like she had lost her fucking mind and said: "NO! I want to go a few months without any dental appointments, thank you." I'm mighty proud of myself though. I went to all of them, it's all over. The worst ones were the second and fourth. When someone tells you that the appointment that involves actually getting the crown put in doesn't hurt, they are fucking LYING!! Just FYI.

Also, Math-Girl, The Nurse and I started a group blog called "Overheard in Minneapolis". You can check it out here: http://ohinmpls.blogspot.com Please feel free to leave your own overheard tales there too by responding to our posts. Murderapolis may not be New York, but we have ALL overheard some very colorful sayings in our day.

Blood on the Red Carpet

2006-03-15T07:26:00.000-06:00

The final word on what will go down in the history of the Academy Awards as Crashgate. This is hilarious, check it out. It's by Annie Proulx who wrote the short story that "Brokeback" was based on.

http://books.guardian.co.uk/print/0,,329430539-99819,00.html

Mental Anguish

2006-03-09T22:42:00.000-06:00

I have been ragingly depressed for the past month and I couldn't figure out what it was. I finally retraced what has been the difference lately and I realized. THE GYM!! ever since I have had that gym membership I have felt like a worthless piece of $hit. I cannot motivate myself to go, I hate it when I'm there and I don't feel good afterwards. I hate exercising and it's beyond stubbornness. I feel like a part of my self esteem is injured daily by having that gym membership.

It goes deeper than that. I'm tired of hating how I look. I'm tired of feeling that I am ugly and that I am less of a person because I'm ugly. Being gay is such a ragingly body-conscious thing. I'm tired of obsessing over it. I'm tired of dieting. I'm tired of going without. I know I need to be healthy physically, but I feel like my mental health is suffering in the process. I want to feel effing comfortable in my own skin more than anything in the world. I want to celebrate how far I have come as a person FIRST and then work on the things I should change SECOND. I am way too hard on myself and I have to effing STOP!! I know I am NEVER going to be some gorgeous hard-bodied stud. I wouldn't know what the heck to do with myself if I was.

I'm still going to work on my health, but I really need to take baby steps with the exercising part. Not sure what to do yet.

I'm NOT crazy!!

2006-03-08T07:06:00.000-06:00

Yes, I have a tirade below about "Crash" winning over "Brokeback". Apparently, my favorite movie's loss was completely unprecedented. This from The Advocate: "Brokeback Mountain", though it picked up Oscars for the quiet artistry of its musical score, Lee’s direction, and Diane Ossana and Larry McMurtry’s screenplay, was the first film ever honored by the triumvirate of the producers, directors, and writers guilds not to win Best Picture.

So I'm NOT crazy. This was a shock and an upset. I also find it strange that "Crash" is immediately being re-released to theaters even though you can get it in the bargain bin at Target. It's almost like Lion's Gate KNEW it was going to happen. You can't prep a film for re-release in theaters in 5 days.

Who gives a fuck about the Academy Awards anyway? It's all politics. And what of the film itself? Does it being ignored by the Academy mean it's less of a film at all? Absolutely not. This will go down in history as one of the most ridiculous, shameful moments in Hollywood. The Academy let their homophobia show. When the dust clears, this decision will look completely idiotic. If it had won, the moment would be more forgettable.

"CRASH"????!!!! WTF???????!!!!!

2006-03-05T23:24:00.000-06:00

I feel sick to my stomach with disgust. “Crash” is a great movie, don’t get me wrong, but “Brokeback” was miles from “Crash” as any critic out there will tell you. "Crash" was firmly and deservedly lodged in my NUMBER TWO position of the year. So what the fuck happened? There are two possibilities: “Crash” is yet ANOTHER movie that sucks LA’s cock and panders directly to the people who live in Los Angeles. I wanted to show THIS SIDE of LA. Haven’t we seen EVERY SIDE of LA? I haven't even BEEN THERE and I feel like I've been there. The second option brings me back to what Jon Stewart said at the beginning of the show about the Academy being “Behind the times“. They aren‘t ready yet to accept a film with the issues brought up in “Brokeback Mountain“. “Crash” is about prejudice and stereotypes, mostly racial stereotypes. I find it interesting that not once do any of the intermingling characters come across gay characters. And Civil Rights has always been a sore spot for me. One of the groups most strongly opposed to the Gay Civil Rights movement was Southern BLACK Baptist Churches. So... Civil Rights for YOU but no one else?? WTF??!!

It’s hard for someone who isn’t gay to understand the seething rage I feel at this. I almost feel how I did when I saw that W got re-elected. In my opinion, this is about what issue is most important. 5 issues were brought up by five different movies: Racism, homophobia, the death penalty, McCarthyism and terrorism. Racism won, and homophobia should have. “Crash” was great, but it wasn’t groundbreaking or earth-shattering. It doesn’t open people’s eyes to something they have never seen before. “Brokeback” takes the issues of intolerance away from the religious zealots and pundits and politicians and puts a human face on it. Not a stereotypical human face, for once, but a human face.

I’m taking it too seriously. It’s a fucking award show. “Million Dollar Baby” won last year and the fact that it won didn’t make me like the movie any more or have a different opinion about it than I did before. I had such a personal reaction to “Brokeback” I remember saying to myself that if NOT ANOTHER LIVING SOUL in the world liked it, I still would. Nothing can change how much the film impacted me and continues to impact me.

EPIPHANY: Okay, all you straight folks out there reading this. Imagine you had NEVER seen a love story that you believed or could relate to. No “Gone With the Wind” no “Titanic” no “Casablanca”, etc, etc... NEVER. Not a single one. Because every love story out there worth a damn was a gay love story. Imagine seeing one with a heterosexual couple for the first time that felt real, that didn’t insult you with stereotypes or production values. That’s what “Brokeback” did for me. Not that I’m a lonely rancher out in Wyoming, but I could have been. A different time a different place. Maybe.

God. I really just need more gay male friends. I feel like I'm stranded on "Island of the People that Aren't Like Me".

Wow!! I love Blogging. I feel so much better. It's all bullshit. Who knows what happened. It could just be that LA thing I mentioned earlier.

RIP FEBRUARY 2006!!!

2006-03-03T07:22:00.000-06:00

Thank GOD February is over!! I felt like I was ON THE RAG the entire month!! I also had 2 dental appointments, the month was gloomy and cold with NO SNOW. It truly sucked. I have taken on a personal conquest to get the plumbing in my building fixed. I have complained several times to maintenance that I have issues with my shower blasting me with cold water, intermittently not coming on, etc. I finally got my complaint in writing and sent it to them. They never responded. I finally had to call them and a woman told me since I am the only one complaining in the building they are not willing to fix anything. I took it upon myself to go around the building, door-to-door and ask other residents to sign. Of the 13 people I talked to, only one of them said there was no problem. I am mailing out my findings to the rental office today. Wish me luck!!

Also, Oscars on Sunday. GO "BROKEBACK" GO!!!

The Talent?, The Questions and Colin Farrell's Butt

2006-02-23T10:06:00.000-06:00

For the past week or so, I have been having a truly horrifying thought: I may actually be good at screenwriting and I may actually be able to do this for a living. I have a very critical teacher who praised my work very highly and told me it was the best in the class. He said I really have "it". He also read one of my assignments in front of the class the other night. Afterwards, during our break, a girl whose writing I respect very highly congratulated me and said she loved it. The part that I am not telling any of them is how naturally it comes to me. I get an idea, write a brief outline, sit down at the computer and let the characters do the rest of the work. Quite a few times, I have been writing some lines of dialogue that I wasn't even aware I was going to write. 2 of my assignments have taken really unexpected twists that I LITERALLY didn't know were coming until they were on the page. It's weird, thrilling and kinda eerie. Like these characters are communicating THROUGH me.

Another perk of being a Screenwriting Student, I have found out, is getting invited to special screenings. Last night, my friend Momo and I went to an advance screening of Robert Towne's "Ask the Dust" at the Walker Art Center. It was an okay film with interesting characters but a heavy-handed ending. Fans of Colin Farrell's butt (myself included) will be very happy with this film. Afterwards, the Writer/Director answered a lot of really stupid/or pretentious questions from some MCAD students. Momo and I left early because we were both bored to tears.

$.18

2006-02-09T09:47:00.000-06:00

That was my raise this year. I won't even notice a difference on my paycheck. And believe me, I am one of the lucky ones! My friend The Anomaly got $.06 and she knows of someone who got $.04. Can you even fucking STAND IT??!! THIS from a company that bragged about RECORD EARNINGS and handed over $22 million to their CEO as a BONUS!! The thing that's got me cracking up is that THIS YEAR they are calling them "merit increases". In other words, I am worth $0.18 more based on my performance this past year. In my opinion, just from staying sane and not going postal ALONE I should have been given a $2 raise. The worst part is, the people they are hiring now are being hired at about $1.25 more per hour than I am getting now. At the rate I am going I will NEVER get where they are. I know someone who has been working there for five years and is making about $1.50 less per hour than me. Oh, this tangled corporate fucking web we weave.

So I'm whining and crying about my $.18 cents, then go to my documentary class and am subjected to "Night and Fog" right after an exhausting analysis of "Triumph of the Will". "Night and Fog" is a half hour long. It is the most brutal, horrific Holocaust documentary I have ever seen. I thought I had seen the worst of the worst images and footage. I was wrong, and I just recently watched a BBC documentary on Auschwitz. I don't know what was the worst part, seeing one of the Jews help a struggling Nazi shut the cattle car from inside, or seeing one of the Allied soldiers gently laying a severed head in a mass grave right after seeing Nazis bulldozing bodies into a pit. Then there are some images I will never forget that I can't even bear to describe here.

Nightmares all night.

WORK IT, WORK IT, WORK IT!!!

2006-02-02T08:50:00.000-06:00

Being a general fat-ass, I know (and have known for some time) that I have to get my fat, lazy ass to the gym. I have resolved to do that this year. In accordance with that, I explored my options. I called our local YWCA and checked out my options. I have such awful health insurance this year (basically, don't get sick and we offer this INCREDIBLE Health Savings Account where you can save YOUR money to pay your doctor bills, but if you don't spend it all by the end of the year, we will take it), I figured at the very least PREVENTITIVE health would be the way they were going. They do waive a $79 joiner's fee, but the woman at the Y told me that if you have Blue Cross/Blue Shield and visit the gym 8 times per month, they will reimburse you $20 of the $47/month fee. I thought WOW, now THAT is an incentive to get my lazy butt in there. I called to verify with BCBS that it is a reality. Apparently, The Bank doesn't offer that through their health care programs. Befuddled, I jumped on the website and found the following explanation. Be forewarned, if you are drinking something, you may spit it out in shock at the stunning audacity of the corporate-speak herein. There's a puddle of water on my floor to attest to that. My favorite parts are in bold:

* At the present time, The Bank has decided not to participate in the Blue Cross Blue Shield of Minnesota program that offers $20 off monthly dues at the YMCA, Flagship Athletic Club and Northwest Athletic Clubs in Minnesota for a certain level of usage. This program is optional for employers who have self-insured health care programs, such as The Bank. The program cost would need to be paid by The Bank, [because a place that had RECORD EARNINGS, won't even buy office supplies for its employees and routinely gives 5 and 10 cent raises PER YEAR cannot afford it] not Blue Cross.

For 2006, we have chosen to invest in the new Health Assessment program [a survey, website and junk mail] as our major wellness initiative. We believe a good first step toward motivating people to lead healthier lifestyles is to give them information about their current health status, [I know I'm a fucking fat-ass, okay] and provide tools and support [because a survey, website and junk mail is SOO valuable when I am trying to improve my health] to help them take action to reduce health risks and lead a healthier lifestyle. For many people, we believe a more realistic starting point to more exercise may be to go for a free half mile walk once a day [you picked up on the fucking FREE part, right?] rather than a twice weekly fitness club visit, even if subsidized.

The Health Assessment will also give The Bank aggregate data about our employee's health risk areas (we will not have any information about individual employees). This can help us decide where we should focus future wellness intiatives, which could include fitness club incentives, but could also include areas such as diet, smoking or stress [like the stress of working for a fucking cheap-ass company with terrible benefits that gives out 5 and 10 cent raises?].

Ya gotta love and respect the purity of it, right? Maybe they should "focus future wellness initiatives" in giving affordable insurance that actually makes sense to take part in. Our benefits were so atrocious this year, I opted out and have GETTING HIT BY A BUS insurance instead. Otherwise, I would have been paying $75/ month with a $600 deductible, and then pay 20 percent of my doctor's visits after that.

I'm still joining the Y. One way or another. There's a really decent fitness room here at JAS apartments, but the hours really suck and will not work for me most of the time. I am pissed off to find out they have junior high style showers. I would like to go early in the morning before work, but that isn't going to happen if it involves a bit of public nudity every day. I don't even feel comfortable getting naked in front of a mirror, let alone in front of some buff, hot straight guy.