I thought I smelled gin and regret ...

2009-01-15T12:52:00.000-08:00

Dear people of the world who are unfortunate enough to listen to or buy music by The Pussycat Dolls:

Please stop immediately.
Thanks.

Love,
Jason

A Merry Little...

2008-12-22T10:28:00.001-08:00

So much to write about, so little time right now...

My favorite Christmas song, hands down.

Overheard at Woodruff Place Neighborhood sale

2008-12-02T21:53:00.000-08:00

One 10-12 year-old black girl to another:
"Yo Mama a BITCH!"

Other girl:

"At least MY mama didn't take it up the ASS last night!"

Day after day, I'm more confused ...

2008-11-30T19:46:00.000-08:00

It's funny how small things can stir up large memories.

I was supposed to visit my folks today, but they've both been battling a bit of a head cold the past few days. I called Mom this morning and she could barely talk. We decided it was best if I let them rest today, and perhaps visit one night this coming week. She seemed so tired ... and her voice sounded like a scratchy 78 rpm record, like the ones my Dad keeps on the shelf in the basement -- Old recordings by Eddy Arnold, Fats Domino, Nelson Eddy, even Bessie Smith ... records that belonged to my Great Aunt Lois. Dad would dig through them gleefully and find ones that made his heart sing. He'd lower the needle gently, and I'd hold my breath with anticipation. Who would it be that night? He'd sing along, or sit back in his chair with a beer and soak in the sounds. I learned that from him -- the appreciation of music. The love of sounds and melody. For some reason, hearing Mom croak like a newborn frog reminded me of those times with Dad, in the living room with an RC Cola and a bag of pretzels. I miss those days. It's hard not to, now, when he asks me to make sure I visit this week so we can go over "some things." He's embracing his mortality and is doing so very bravely ... I wish I could purloin even a fraction of that steadfast courage. But I'm terrified. I can't let that show. And I won't. At least not publicly. I'll save my breakdowns for those stolen moments I have when I can turn on my "records," nurse a cocktail, and get lost. Dobie Gray sang "Give me the beat, boys, and free my soul ... I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away..." I love that song.

Oh I've been away ...

2008-11-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

... and it's really unforgivable. But, shit happens ... and it sure has happened to me over the last few months. Nothing has killed me, obviously, but damn have I been tested. But, like Doris Mann, I'm Still Here. So ... onward.

I'm thrilled with the election results. How could I not be? I really didn't think I'd live to see the day, but it's fantastic to be wrong. Change has come, sure, but not for everyone. Still. Prop 8 passed in California. Gay marriage was effectively banned in Florida and Arizona. So ... two steps forward, one back. But I'm Still Here.

My parents have struggled with some major health issues, on and off, for the past two years. Dad has been especially tested of late. Their tenacity is inspiring, their drive determined and robust. Even though I hear the tinges of melancholy and fatigue in their voices, they're putting on a brave front. I continue to be thankful for each moment with them, and call at least once a day. It's a shame that it takes something so inevitable as aging to make me actually cherish them. If for nothing else than being lucky enough to be their son, I'm beyond fortunate.

I have tons of stuff to catch up on, blog wise. I'll do my best over the next few days. As a parting gift for now ... here's Shirl.

RIP Heath Ledger

2008-01-22T20:28:00.000-08:00

Heath Ledger is dead.

I am still, 8 hours after first seeing the news on cnn.com, in shock.

I can't really explain why this has affected me so much, but I have been a mess all night. Is it Brokeback? Is it the tiny crush I've harbored since A Knight's Tale? Or is it just the overwhelming sense of melancholy that seems to have permeated my life? I can't really explain it.

Ledger's performance in Brokeback is one of my all-time favorites ever captured on film. Tony doesn't "get" that. Well, I shouldn't say that. He doesn't "get" the movie's impact ... he's never doubted Ledger's exceptional work. But... it's that performance that seems to haunt me tonight. The character Ledger played, Ennis Del Mar, was a tortured and troubled soul. Was Heath? Is that why he was so able to capture Ennis's pain? When Ennis collapses in the "tunnel" after Jack Twist leaves the first time ... I can so relate to that feeling. I remember the weight I felt when I was parted from my first lover for the very first time. Better yet -- I remember the pall of fear I felt burdened with when I first realized I liked my friend Roger a bit more than I probably should have at age 13. There are so many moments in the movie that touched me immensely. I am, as I said, overwhelmed with grief, disbelief, and dread. I'm not ashamed to admit I've cried numerous times this evening. I find myself putting off sleep. I am bereft. Does that make me silly, seeing as how this was simply an actor, not someone I knew? It's a weird feeling. I hope he is at peace. I hope he knows how much he touched people ... ALL people, not just people in my community. I hope I feel better tomorrow...

Rest in eternal peace, Heath.

What's your flavor?

2008-01-15T19:22:00.000-08:00

I think rum is the best tasting alcoholic beverage on the planet. If you challenge me ... I SAY THEE NAY!!!

I have developed, over the past few months, a very distinct pattern of behavior. I will cringe and moan and gnash my remaining solvent teeth and gripe about work ... and then I'll come home and drink. Copiously. Anyone who knows me can attest to my love of all things rum.

I am growing scared.
Am I simply repeating/replicating the pattern with with I grew up? Wasn't Dad "three sheets to the wind" by the time he arrived home each night from the factory? What is wrong with me? I swore I wouldn't become my father. I took oaths.

Then, reaching adulthood and realizing the searing humanity displayed by my kick-ass Dad throughout amazingly turbulent times, I decided being like Dad wasn't so fucking bad.

The drinking, however ... not the smartest choice.
I fear I am becoming powerless. I fear my actions should I not end each night with a lil nip.

If nothing else, I am resilient. This, too, shall pass.

Bring on the hooch, muthafuckas!!!

I erased all your old voicemails...

2008-01-15T19:16:00.000-08:00

There's a change coming. It's a ship. It's sailing. The course? Unknown. Is it going forward? A distinct possibility. Is it sinking? Sometimes, the most logical assumption. It is treading water? The unfortunate truth. Hang on. The ride will be bumpy ... turbulent ... fraught with uncertainty and disdain ... but it might just rejuvenate your spirit.

I hate trying to be both philosophical and fatalistic. May I have the rum, please?

2007-09-26T06:17:00.000-07:00

I saw a graffiti artist working on a cement wall the other day, and it struck me that it was the first time I'd actually seen someone "tagging" something. He was an average, nondescript guy -- probably mid-20's, white, average build, wearing a hoodie, and working on something I'm definitely going to go back and see. I thought about him all the way into work, knowing full well he was so overwhelmed with the urge to create that he just had to tag that wall. His art was bursting out of him with each creative angle of his can of spray paint. I used to know what that was like. There would be times at dinner with friends, or driving down the street, when a poem would just pop into my head ... and I'd frantically try to find something to scribble at least a couple lines on ... something to refer to later when I was ready to really write the damn thing. That hasn't happened to me for a while. Of course, there are many things going on in my life that might be contributors to this ... but I wish the muse would strike again soon. I miss it.

We drove out to the lot yesterday, and boy howdy -- they've got the entire place framed!! At first, I was looking at the wrong lot and was sure nothing had been done. Then Tony gently pointed out that we were two lots down ... and my gaze was greeted with a fully framed house. We took a quick walking tour and it made me all warm inside. I can't wait to move in.

My trip to Miami with Ms. Mary Jo was fantastic. I learned so much from her during our campus visits ... she's truly a trove of knowledge, and so easy to watch in action. We managed to score two new adoptions while we were at Miami Dade College, and that was a nice feather in my cap. One is a completely original manuscript about dreams and how to guide yourself into dreaming "positively." As new-agey as it sounds, I'm kind of excited to read it. The professor was a very, very interesting woman ... I'm sure she and I would spend hours talking about women in literature and other sometimes heady topics while sharing a couple bottles of wine. Maybe during my next visit...

There are so many positive things about my job, it's unreal that I still find myself somewhat overcome with malaise. I don't think it's just work. I feel pretty mentally exhausted lately. The financials involved with this house overwhelm me if I think about them too much, Tony is horribly unhappy at work (and I wish I could just afford for him to quit), I have 9412 things to do at the office but seldom feel like throwing myself into the task list, my Mom is still struggling with her recovery, Tony gets frustrated at my lack of libido, and ... I could go on and on. But I'm suddenly reminded of my grandma Lottie. When someone would ask her how she was, especially during her very nasty last few months, she'd always reply "I'm fine." When questioned why she wasn't more forthcoming with her ailments, etc., she'd always reply "No one really cares about that. Everyone has their own shit to deal with." And ... she's right, of course. So I'll try to vent less, even though I do look at this crazy blog as a sort of therapy at times. As I've said numerous times -- thank God or Allah or whomever for Xanax. I love that shit.

2007-09-11T20:18:00.001-07:00

Is it time for New Year's Resolutions yet? :-)

American Beauty

2007-09-04T12:31:00.000-07:00

Tony and I watched American Beauty last night. I love that movie. I want to hug it and squeeze it and smack it and throw it against the wall ... but I love the way it makes me feel. The sadness it brings about isn't an all-encompassing one ... and there's a certain sublime elegance to the last line of the film. I know I certainly sat back and thought about my life as the credits rolled. What a fantastic piece of cinema. I wish Wes Bentley made more movies ... or at least more movies that people actually SEE. He was perfect in AB -- that smoldering intensity, that rage kept just below the surface. As much as I love Spacey and Bening in the film, I think Bentley's character is my favorite. And yes, as Tony pointed out last night, the floating bag scene is somewhat self indulgent, but I am overcome every time I see it.

2007-06-27T08:10:00.000-07:00

We have much to discuss.

My Dad had a mild heart attack on (of all days) Father's Day, and ended up spending over a week in the Heart Hospital here in Indianapolis. He's now the proud "owner" of a pacemaker, and is doing really well at home. He has to take it easy for the next couple of weeks ... and we'll all end up pitching in a bit around the house. I say it's the least we can do. Dad has never been the type to complain of feeling poorly, so hearing him say "I think I need to go to the ER" was a big shock. I can't even begin to put into words how relieved I am that there wasn't a need for a bypass. He had a triple bypass in 1992, and thankfully, it's held up remarkably well. There was slight damage to his heart from the attack (and the doctors think he might have had as many as three other small ones in the past few months), but the pacemaker is supposed to be the "big fix." He already says he feels better ... so that's a big "YAY!"

My Mom handled the whole thing really, really well. She was, of course, frightened and worried at first ... but when she saw how at ease Dad was and realized just how close the hospital was to my office (less than five minutes), she calmed down somewhat. It was very sweet to watch them interact when she was finally able to get down here. She insisted on giving her "baby" a big kiss before sitting down, and I don't think she let go of his hand the entire time she was in the room. They truly are bound ... and I think each would be lost without the other.

I will say I was reality-slapped with Mom's growing frailty while helping her get from her wheelchair to the hospital chair, etc. She's just so tiny now ... and I kept worrying that I was holding her arm too tightly or being too pushy. Her spirits are still flying high and her silliness is still a joy to behold. But it was a real eye-opener for me. Had something happened to Dad, there would have been no way for her to live alone in the house. She requires too much assistance. Wow. Unreal ... but, such is life. They've both lived very full, rich lives and I certainly can't complain about THAT. I am going to treasure each remaining moment I have with them and enjoy them for who they are. I love them both madly.

Anyway ...

Work contines to be good, but challenging. There are days when I think my head is going to explode from stress, but then there are days when I think it's a breeze. I would imagine that's a pretty decent average ... so I should keep counting my blessings and learn from the situations that bring me stress. That's what I'm trying to do, at least. Thank GOD for Jessica and Carie.

Tony won second place in the IndyFringe contest, and I couldn't be happier for him. The BIG news, however, is that The Alley Theatre here in town was so enamored with his piece that they're opening their season with it!!! YAY!!! It'll most likely be in September, and rest assured, I'll keep this blog updated with all pertinent info. I'm so proud of him. And so happy that he's being recognized, again, for his abilities. He's a lovely writer and this personal piece, in particular, sings with the voice of his wisdom and experience. Go, baby.

Speaking of singing ...
It's well-documented here that I love me some Patty Griffin. Her "new" (it's a number of months old now) CD Children Running Through is another stunning gem in her crown. She's such a fantastic songwriter with a pure, true voice that makes me feel warm all over. Stand outs are "Heavenly Day" and "Up to The Mountain (MLK Song)." The latter was sung by Kelly Clarkson on the American Idol Gives Back fundraiser episode. Kelly did a really striking version ... but the eloquent restraint Patty exhibits lifts her into the pantheon of truly amazing singer-songwriters.

I think it's lunch time. Or at least it better be...

2007-06-05T06:29:00.000-07:00

Things that make me smile:

The way Tolliver comes running into the kitchen like a kitten when he hears the food bag or can opener. It's adorable.
How Tony turns into a strong black woman when Missy Elliott comes on the radio. Bitch even has a dance. Pretty fly for a white guy.
The fact that Jessica calls decaf "pretend coffee."
Carie's infectious laugh.
The mental image of Meghan conversing with a trash heap.
Jill asking a several hundred pound rhino, in her baby voice, "why are you so cute?"
April's rapier wit and knowledge of all things afro-centric.
Alcohol.
The way music reaches in and grabs my soul. It is almost a religion to me ... there's nothing I believe in more, and nothing that gets to me quite as much. Don't get me wrong -- my relationship is fantastic and I adore my husband -- but that's a totally different thing, a very special connection. My relationship with music is transcendent. Music makes my heart beat. It makes my mind race. It soothes me. It is truly nectar of the gods.

That's enough silliness for now.

2007-05-22T08:02:00.001-07:00

Again with the random thoughts posting...

It smells like pee in the office today, and I'm quite sure I did not soil myself. I wonder who did?
I hate it when people who will answer an email from you in a split second won't take the time to answer their fucking phone when you call them. You know their asses are there -- so pick up the goddamn phone and talk to me. Some things are just easier to explain on the phone. I love me some email -- but c'mon. Jesus tap-dancing Christ.
I like the groove I've gotten into at work.
I really have a huge crush on Milo Ventimiglia -- and it's kinda weird, because he's really not a "type" I usually like. But I heart him.
I'm very anxious for the Lost season finale. People have been vocal about the show supposedly losing its focus, yadda yadda ... but I still enjoy it every week. I just hope my future husband's character doesn't die. Matthew Fox -- you just don't know yet that you love me with all your heart.
I made Tinky-Winky my desktop image at work and I smile every time I look at it. :-)
Dad might have to have an angioplasty. He'll find out more Thursday. Send good thoughts. The last thing my folks need is more health drama.
It really smells like pee in here!

Ding Dong the witch is dead

2007-05-15T11:47:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm probably a horrible person, but I don't care.

Jerry Falwell is dead.

Here are some heartwarming, oh-so-Christian quotes from the late Reverend:

"AIDS is God's punishment to gays."
"Grown men should not be having sex with prostitutes unless they are married to them."
"AIDS is the wrath of a just God against homosexuals. To oppose it would be like an Israelite jumping in the Red Sea to save one of Pharoah's chariotters."
"The whole (global warming) thing is created to destroy America's free enterprise system and our economic stability."

and the classic

"(9/11 is the result of) throwing God out of the public square, out of the schools, the abortionists have got to bear some burden for this because God will not be mocked and when we destroy 40 million little innocent babies, we make God mad...I really believe that the pagans and the abortionists and the feminists and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who try to secularize America...I point the thing in their face and say you helped this happen."

Did I mention the one about AIDS being God's punishment for homosexuals?

Yeah. Death couldn't have happened to a more deserving asshole.

2007-04-10T17:52:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about anger today, and boy am I full of it. FULL OF IT. I wonder how I can alleviate it best, without killing anyone? :-)

Again, I'm drinking. I'm bad. I don't care. I need the respite. Without the warmth of the alcohol oozing down my throat, I'd surely throw myself on the floor and wail like a two-year old child. Only my co-workers understand the frustration I feel at the end of each day. HELL, I feel it as I ride up the elevator toward cubicle heaven. I love the job ... the people are awesome, the camaraderie is bar none, the benefits ROCK, but I can't seem to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And today, I felt like a total dumbass. You'd swear I was Corky from Life Goes On most of the day. "Um, what do I do now?" "Um, what's a direct reprint?" "Um, what color is the wind?" It was ridiculous.

Thank GOD for whiskey.

Cocktail, anyone?

2007-04-02T05:33:00.000-07:00

Had a fun weekend.

And now it's Monday.

I love my job, but I'm not feeling it today. I'm not feeling much of anything or anyone today, honestly. I have a serious case of the "Monday blahs." Perhaps they'll fade away (much like the career of Taylor Dayne) as the day progresses. Lord knows I've got enough to do, workwise, to get my mind off this silly little ennui. I have many revisions I need to nail down and get processed. I have many contacts on which I need to follow up. I have many cups of coffee to drink.

For some reason, I've been thinking a lot about the movie Donnie Darko lately. It's a pretty fucked up little film, truthfully, but there's something about it that draws me in and fascinates me. I wish that time travel manual really existed. Boy howdy -- that'd be fun to have sometimes. Yes indeed.

Stolen from Joe. My. God.

2007-02-20T06:17:00.000-08:00

HILARIOUS.

"If you want half my money, you come in here and give half this blowjob."
- Emily, on the HBO documentary Atlantic City Hookers, explaining why she doesn't use a pimp.

BTW -- check out Joe. My. God. Very cool blog.

stuff

2006-11-14T08:40:00.000-08:00

So I figured I should give an update on Mom's condition, for those of you kind enough to read this blog and care about such things. :-)

She's doing better, much to my shock. I truly thought, as did most of my family, that she would never recover. I'm not saying I believe she will fully ... not by a long shot ... but she's definitely showing a determination to hang on. After much debate over pain maintenance, she was put on Oxycontin, and it's working wonders. She's been sitting up in the chair for extended periods, participating in physical therapy to get her legs back in functional order, and has even started making bathroom trips herself, using a walker for assistance. Big steps, most assuredly. I spoke with her yesterday, and she sounded more like herself than she has in a month. She has a tenacity by which I am both inspired and baffled. I honestly don't know where it comes from ...
There have been rumbles of a release within a week or so, but that brings more concern because I just can't see Dad handling her needs on his own. My sister Nancy is there for a while, but she'll have to go home at some point. It's the long-term considerations I keep mulling over. The cart before the horse, I suppose.

Work continues to be a challenge, as well. I was asked to stay ... and because nothing else was presenting itself, I accepted. There are days when I genuinely enjoy what I'm doing, and then there are days when I'd rather be anywhere else on the planet. I'm sure that's not an emotion exclusive to me ... but I'm having more of the "anywhere else on the planet" days than the other kind lately. The stress of my insane job on top of the stress with Mom is weighing heavily on me. Thank God, again, for Xanax.

As I always do when faced with "life," I've turned to music a lot lately to help ease the stress. I've turned to alcohol, too, but that's another entry. Hehe. I've found particular strength and joy in the music of Patty Griffin. If you haven't heard it already, do yourself a favor and get her Impossible Dream CD. I love the song "Top of the World" so much I can't even tell you. And "Cold As it Gets" is sheer brilliance. She should be a huge star.

In anticipation of the big-screen adaptation, I recently re-read Tom Perrotta's Little Children. I love that book. It's not exceptional literature or anything, and I'm sure my fascination with it stems mostly from what I was dealing with in my own relationship the first time I read it, but I devoured it on the second read. I feel like I know every single one of the characters in my everday life. I could have done without all the football stuff, but the rest of it just grabbed me and wouldn't let go. The film has an excellent cast (Kate Winslet, Jennifer Connelly, Patrick Wilson) and it's definitely one I'm very much looking forward to seeing.

mini vent

2006-10-30T07:08:00.000-08:00

Mom continues to improve, slowly. Her stay in extended care was brief -- the room was shared by another patient, and it ended up causing both of them more stress, having various family members here and there at all hours. So she's back in a private room, still trying to eat solid food successfully. Sigh. I have a horrible fear that she's never going to leave the hospital ... and it's weighing me down a lot more than I'd care to admit.

Something is "off" at home, too. Tony and I are growing less and less tolerant of each other. It's mostly my fault, I'm sure, because I tend to shut down sexually when over-stressed. He's just the opposite -- it's the ultimate stress buster for him, so he's really going insane. This causes him to make rough comments, which then causes me to get pissed and shut down even more. It's a hell of a cycle that I've got to figure out how to break. We had a rather ugly row Friday morning, but as the day progressed, decided it best to clear the slate and face the evening as if the morning hadn't happened. It worked, for the most part. There was a snide remark here and there (mostly by my ass, I'm ashamed to admit), but it was a decent night. The rest of the weekend was fine, too. Nothing to write home about ... but that underlying current of tension was there. I felt it this morning, too, but didn't say anything. I was very hung over yesterday and had a small sore throat, so I wasn't really in the mood for much. I was in bed with a book by 10:30, and I'm sure that wasn't the most popular choice with Tony. He didn't say anything, and neither did I, but on the way to work this morning I just felt tense. I hate it.

During Friday's row, he suggested I find a therapist to help me deal with my internalized anger and how I let my health issues interfere with what should be a normal, healthy sex life. I think he's right. I'm asking my co-worker today (a psychologist) for a referral. I hate feeling this helpless. And I have plenty to talk to a therapist about, that's for sure.

Whirlwind...

2006-10-24T08:30:00.000-07:00

WHEW! It's been a hell of a couple weeks...
My Mom went into the hospital way back on October 3 for pneumonia. She's 83, so I wasn't surprised -- she just wasn't able to kick it, and her breathing had gotten so shallow that her oxygen levels were totally wonky. We figured "No problem - they'll get her back on track." Not so fast...

She's had a chronic bellyache for a year or so, but has always had a less than stellar digestive tract, so she chalked it up to simple indigestion or irritable bowel syndrome. While in the hospital for the pneumonia, her vitals jumped all over the place and she began running a 102 degree fever. After numerous tests, it was determined she had a very infected gall bladder and needed to have it removed ASAP. My oldests sister, Nancy, a retired nurse living in Arizona, was dead-set against it and did her best to talk us out of letting it happen. But after talking to Mom's doctors extensively, it seemed inevitable. She was in danger of it bursting, which would have caused her to go septic, which would have been the writing on the wall. So ... she had it removed via laparascopic surgery, and it went very well. For a couple days.

The Saturday after her Tuesday surgery, her hemoglobin levels dropped drastically, and she had an excessive amount of blood in her bowels .. and it just got worse. The doctors weren't able to pinpoint exactly where the blood was coming from, and Mom was moved the the ICU. Tony and I rushed to Anderson to spend the evening with her, and in all honesty, things looked really, really grim. After an upper-GI and a colonoscopy, it was discovered she had numerous bleeding ulcers in her large intestine. Much consultation ensued and everyone tried not to panic. The surgeon assured us it would be necessary to remove part of her colon in order to prevent her from bleeding out. The doctors in our family (all spread across the country, naturally) conferred with Mom's doctors in Anderson, and the surgery was given the green light.

I could go on and on about all this ... and I have, pretty much ... but I'll sum it up by saying she had 1/3 of her colon removed, came through the surgery amazingly well, and is still recovering. She was moved to continuing/extended care yesterday, and the doctors anticipate she'll be released next week. I'm worried about that, because I can't fathom how she and Dad are going to manage when she gets home. He's not incapable by any means, but it's going to be a challenge for them both. I suppose I'll have to make more frequent visits. I should do that, anyway, all things considered.

I just got off the phone with Mom, and she's still doing well. She misses her bed and her chair, but said she's handling the transition to extended care just fine. Thankfully she's still able to get some morphine for the pain. I have to say, she's a tough ol' bird. I hope I have her gumption and fight if and when I reach her age.

2006-10-04T06:19:00.000-07:00

Here's what I learned the other night, waiting over three hours for celebrated DJ Paul Oakenfold to take the mic at Talbott Street:

I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.
When a hot guy seems to be checking you out in the bathroom, he's really just waiting to ask you if you have any pot.
The metrosexual is alive and well and shaking his groove thing at Talbott Street, surrounded by girls full of wishful thinking and boys full of libido waiting to spray all over him.
Some queens even pose while taking a photograph.
I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.
Glow sticks are fucking retarded...
...yet people are fascinated by them, and will stare at people wielding them for hours.
Most dance music is dull and soulless, yet twentysomethings of questionable sexuality will shake, rattle, and roll to it for hours. Non-stop.
I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.
Paul Oakenfold is full of himself and thinks it's okay to show up for a 9PM show at Midnight.
The drinks at Talbott Street aren't very strong ... two of them did absolutely nothing for me, and if I'd have had two drinks at the 501, I'd have enjoyed my Talbott experience much more. Especially since I'd have been somewhere else.
Eating spicy Chinese food before going to a gay bar isn't the smartest idea in the world.
And ... I'm too fucking old for Talbott Street.

2006-09-05T08:52:00.000-07:00

It feels like Monday.

My iPod has decided to freeze up again. I am so pissed. This is the third time, and now, of course, it's out of warranty. As much as I love the thing ... right now, I'd love to throw it against the wall. But that's too negative. I should be happy I've had it as long as I have, and just save the money for the repair and shut up about it. It could be worse. It can always be worse.

I think it takes a lot more energy to be sour, crass, and rude all the time than it does to simply muster a smile or "go with the flow." I'm not saying one has to jump and down with glee just because the hot water works in the morning, or sing a song of delight because one manages to make a perfect cup of coffee. Being around an overly cheerful person or someone very Kristin Chenoweth-like is enough to make me crazy, too. There are extremes, absolutely. I've been guilty of the frequently surly attitude, sure, but I can't imagine what it must be like to hate everything and everyone in the world ... just "because." It must be exhausting. Not to mention lonely and disillusioning.

I've been really tempted to call my "friend" and say "What the hell is going on -- are we really going to continue not speaking?!?" but ... I just can't do it. I apologized, at the time of our conversation, for what I had supposedly done "wrong," and I don't think the ball's in my court on this one. And I'm stubborn. And still hurt. So ... to hell with it. Harumph.

Jill called this morning just to chat. She's really wanting to go on another "getaway" soon, and I'm all for it. We keep talking about Vegas ... and I am so there. We have to figure out a way for Shel-Ho to join us this time, though. With the lodging issue taken care of thanks to the Fletcher's timeshare, we're just talking plane tickets and "mad money" here. If we plan far enough ahead, it is a definite possibility. We'll probably have to wait until after the first of the year for this trip ... and hopefully we'll be able to make it work for everyone. I miss Shel and her big big titties.

I have a million things to do at work today, but, like most days, I'm just not motivated. It's a hard place to work sometimes ... very little recognition, lots of responsibilities, and a rather psychotic owner make it a giant headache, most days. But I don't want to dwell on work -- that was one of the things I was accused of doing by my "friend," and I certainly don't want to alienate the three or four of you who actually read this blog. Just send good vibes my way and continue hoping, along with me, that something different presents itself soon.

2006-09-03T11:38:00.000-07:00

As much as I miss the friend with whom I've fallen out of contact ... I'm not sure contacting this person would be the best choice for me right now. I'm still very angry. And hurt. Mostly hurt. I was rereading the email I received from this person, announcing the intention of "pulling away" for a while ... and the pain was just as sharp. I'm still trying to pretend it didn't happen...

Anyway ...

Yesterday was my Mom's 83rd birthday! GO MOM!

2006-08-21T06:23:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about friendship lately.

I've always considered myself a loyal, true, and honest friend ... although I'll admit there are times when I don't always follow through, or I'm a bit more "fair weather" than I should be. But on the whole, I think I'm a pretty good friend. When push comes to shove, Jason's a damn good ally and a solid source of support.

I wonder, then, why it seems I attract people who view friendship as a more fluid entity ... people who place unnecessary or inconsiderate conditions on their friendships. I hate to use the term "judgment," because I don't think the friends of whom I'm speaking judge me, really. But I do think they view decisions I've made in something of a harsh light.

It's indicative of all friendships that the individuals in question discuss both successes and failures, positives and negatives, joys and sorrows. Sure, there are undoubtedly times when the darker aspects of life permeate (to use one particular friend's favorite term) conversations ... but isn't it the job of a friend to listen, support, encourage, and weather those times? That's what I've always thought -- and how I've always behaved. But to be told the "negativity and pain" associated with discussions of late has caused one to distance oneself from the friendship because it has become too taxing or too much work ... well, I think it's bunk. It's human nature, perhaps, to pull away from situations that cause us distress ... but when your friend, a person who lives in your heart and shakes hands with your spirit, is in distress, is it really the "right" thing to do to call them out on what you perceive as "self-involved" behavior and pull out of the friendship simply because you're uncomfortable? To say you can't be around them for a while because it's too taxing? If that's the case, hell, I'd have no friends. I think gently reminding them that you're there for them, offering them alternatives to stressful situations, and perhaps explaining that they should take some time for themselves to re-evaluate and re-focus would be much more beneficial in the long run than saying "see ya, this is too real."

What my recent experience has taught me is that, in reality, we really are basically alone. Sure, we've got friends who won't treat us this way ... but ultimately, decisions are personal and no one can make them for us but us. What it's also taught me is that I refuse to let it alter how I view friendship and how I treat the people I'm oh-so fortunate enough to call my friends. They are my family, and I've more than got their backs. I just might look over my shoulder a little more often...