Today's the day

All over America thousands of men and women are banding together in a radical form of protest. What started out as a call to action against the passing of Prop 8 (aka: Prop H8, Prop "Hate") by removing ourselves from the work world (similar to the work stoppage of 2006's "A Day Without A Mexican") has gone one better. Rather that dropping off the face of the earth for a day by not working or contributing to the economy as originally suggested, today DWAG supporters of all orientations will be volunteering their time and giving back to the community. In other words, today we're fighting H8 with love. And in a nice bit of coincidence, today is also International Human Rights Day.

Today I will be joining at least one of my coworkers at the SF Food Bank to help sort and package food, and whatever else they need help with to ensure that no one in SF goes hungry this winter. I'm looking forward to being able to help there again. There seems to be quite a bit of news coverage about today, from the looks of a quick Google search. Let's hope that it doesn't get cast in the wrong light, and that no one goes out and does anything negative in the name of the day.

OK, gotta run…I don't want to be late!

Listen to this!

A few years ago I had a special opportunity to visit New York City for a weekend. So totally not long enough to take in all that is the thriving, full of life, a story around every corner, metropolis. The group I was part of were given a private sightseeing tour of Manhattan and one of the places we stopped was the site formally known as the World Trade Center. It was a powerful and reflective experience. It was at the site that I first learned about StoryCorps. This fascinating project's mission is to honor and celebrate one another’s lives through listening. I dig that. So when I learned of the National Day of Listening taking place on Friday, November 28, I jumped right in head first.

Now if that date sounds vaguely familiar, you might recognize it better as Black Friday…the day of the humongous day-after-Thanksgiving Day sales where people camp out waiting for stores to open where they can then proceed to elbow, push, and trample their way to the limited-quantity half-off old-fashioned kettle corn popper they never knew they needed or will ever use more than once. Needless to say, there's going to be some competition for time that day.

Well, I don't know about you, but this year I've learned to embrace the simple truth that "the only thing you take with you when you're gone is what you leave behind." —John Allston. So maybe this year is the year to start thinking more about the quality of our actions rather than acquiring more possessions. Heaven forbid the economy gets any worse because people stop buying things altogether, so please feel free to get out there and spend some money. All I'm suggesting is that maybe society would be a little happier, the world a bit nicer, if we made positive actions as much of a priority. Actions like listening, truly listening, to someone.

I've used StoryCorps' online tool to build my list of questions to ask the various important people in my life. My family will be easy to interview, but my friends and I will be separated by many many miles, making for a bit of a challenge. We'll just have to wait and see if technology can come to the rescue. (I'm not worried at all.)

So if you're at all interested, even just a little bit, in participating in the National Day of Listening, click on over to the website and get ready to make a new personal connection, or deepen an existing one, and start building a positive legacy that will out live the two dozen tube socks you scored for a dollar.

One week later...

It's been a week now, and I've had some time to reflect and come to terms with the decisions that were made by family, friends, colleagues, neighbors, fellow Californians. I'm referring to California Prop 2 and Prop 8. And there's an undeniable truth that's come to light. My fellow Californians care more about farm animals than their fellow human beings. Don't believe me? How else do you explain this…



(click for full size iamge)

Animals were given more freedom (well, technically, that "freedom" is the ability to move around more comfortably) and a section of the population had their equality revoked and civil liberties taken away. Does that make any sense to you?



Historic indeed. But not the good kind. I can't help but feel that while our country took a step forward, we also took a step back. That's hardly progress.

We live in a world where America will finally have a non-Anglo president, but in a country that still seems content with denying equality and liberty based on differences.

To all the people out there who voted in favor of Prop 8, the ones who voted in favor of discrimination and bigotry, thinking that by doing so they would some how be protecting marriage, family, and children (and I really don't understand the "protecting children" argument) I would like you to answer the following questions:

1. How does divorce factor into your ideals of protect marriage, family, and children?

2. Why haven't you outlaw divorce?

3. Can I get a refund on all the wedding presents I've purchased for straight couples who got divorced?

No, I'm serious! If you really want to protect marriage, you need to outlaw divorce. It's done more to destroy your so called "holy matrimony" than anything two men (or two women) in a committed relationship have done or will ever do.

And, lastly, for those of you who continue to argue that Prop 8 needed to pass to "[prevent] other consequences to Californians who will be forced to not just be tolerant of gay lifestyles, but face mandatory compliance regardless of their personal beliefs" please consider this…

The Bible says "Do to others as you would have them do to you." — Luke 6:31 (New International Version) but if you choose not to be tolerant of me I hope you won't mind if I choose not to tolerate you. I guess I don't really have a choice, they're your rules.

Does this blog make me look gay?

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Redefining an "extreme" vacation

Single Rider Tour 2008 — part five in a series

Well, maybe calling it a "vacation of extremes" would be more accurate. For the past three days I've been surrounded, more or less, by crowds of theme park-goers, riding thrill ride after thrill ride, and generally looking for mass marketed entertainment. While I did find a couple opportunities to flex my artistic side by way of photography, I wouldn't fully embrace the arts until today, and with that take a complete departure from the entire vacation so far.

The day started on a good note. And while I missed hanging out with The Writer before he left for work, Betty's breakfast recommendation made up for it. The place: Patrick's Roadhouse. The vibe: beyond eclectic. The food: deliciously comforting. The service: refreshingly personal and friendly. I'll eventually have some photos to post, once I'm back home (I'm writing this at LAX sans internet). I'm not really a big breakfast guy — unless it's breakfast for dinner — but I went to town on my food. Thanks for the recommendation, Betty! You've created another fan for this friendly and funky place.

I finished eating sooner than I had thought I would and with my admission time to the Getty Villa still more than an hour away I elected to take a drive north up the Pacific Coast Highway and threw on the soundtrack to the movie Grove to provide the score to my mini-roadtrip within my vacation.

It was a beautiful drive. Fortunately the speed limit was slow enough that I wasn't just blasting by the views without being able to appreciate what I saw. The ocean looked stunning as the clouds danced on the horizon and the waves entertained the surfers. I made it all the way through Malibu to Zuma Beach where a film crew was setting up. I looked at the time and realized it was time to make a u-turn and head toward my original destination. Oh how I wish I could have spent a little more time at the beach. The beach has always been a grounding force for me. Something about walking barefoot on the cold, damp sand helps me feel more connected to the world I live in and reset perspectives. Not to mention all the hot surfer boys changing into and out of their wetsuits in the parking lot. That 300mm zoom lens would have been quite handy for stalking six-packs. But alas, the boys of L.A. is a topic for a future post.

Pulling up to the main gate of the Getty Villa was breathtaking. The landscaping was amazing. Little did I know that I hadn't seen anything yet. The use of stone, tile, and cement was stunning throughout the pathway leading to the museum entrance. Not really sure where to start, I hopped into an orientation tour that was about to head out. That proved to be a wise decision because while the grounds aren't overwhelming expansive, within 30 minutes I knew where everything was and had mapped out in my mind what might be photo worthy.

There were a lot of wonderful sights to behold, and aromas to delight in. Yes, I said aromas. The herb garden, while not in full bloom, provided subtle yet soothing aroma therapy as I sat on a bench soaking in the sun, feeling the tension from the previous day's strenuous activities slowly start to ease. The collection of Roman artifacts and statues were impressive and I was thrilled to learn that non-flash photography was allowed (for personal use only, of course). Keep watching as I'll have a flickr album posted soon highlighting my visit to the Villa.

Before I knew it, it was time to head back toward LAX, with a quick side trip to The Writer's office to drop off something he had forgotten to take with him that morning. Personally I think it was just an excuse to see me before I headed back to San Francisco, but either way it was just nice to be able to see him again. It had been too long since our last face-to-face visit. Hopefully our next in-person visit won't be too far away. Before I climbed back in my car he extended his hand for a farewell shake. Upon clasping hands, he went in for a hug too. That was nice. I'm a big hugger. But for some reason most of my close friends aren't. Never have been, now that I think about it. Not to bring up the past, but Carlos hated hugging. Well, mostly I think he just hated hugging me, because he seemed to have no problem hanging off people he had just met. Anyway, my point…hold on a sec, they're making an announcement about my flight.

DELAYED! By at least an hour and a half due to weather issues at SFO. Lovely.

Now where was I? Oh yes. Hugs. So I was little surprised that he offered a hug. I never thought of our relationship of being one that would include a hug. But maybe after a certain number of years, six for us so far, one reaches hug eligibility status. My point is, and I do have one, that the hug was nice and a great way to end my visit to L.A. and my visit with a distance-separated friend.

Well, without photos to post, and not wanting to go off on another odd tangent (admit it, that hug part was a bit weird, right?) I think I'm going to save this to my local drafts folder in MarsEdit — thank heavens for MarsEdit! — and go in search of some hydration. I'm parched and not capable of surviving an hour-plus long flight with all that dry, recirculated air.

His side, your side

Here am I as always, still quietly standing in the background, patiently observing the both of you. Together. Indivdually. Impartial to the best of my ability. The confidant to both, though only full-time to one. I envied the bond you shared to the point I questioned its validity. Maybe it was my fault he began to question it too.

He asked me if he was doing the right thing. I told him he was, that he deserves to have balance, security, and happiness. And the only way he'll ever achieve that is by taking control of his life and surrounding himself with the people that foster those needs. In reality, I told him what he wanted to hear, which I hope is also the truth.

Part of me wants to intervene, to ask you how you could be so oblivious about what was going on. But having to ask the question at all provides the answer at the same time. I know it's not your fault. Or his. In the end, you are both moving in different directions. Be happy your paths overlapped and look forward to the time they might cross again.

That's all the wisdom I can impart for now. Good luck you two.

The Five Ws of Procrastination

Who is procrastinating: me

What about: figuring out the GC dilemma, and talking to the GC in general

When will you grow a pair and move forward: don't know, by the end of the week probably

Where does this leave you in the mean time: somewhere in the middle, neither good nor bad

Why are you procrastinating: because I'm afraid that I already know the answer, that I've known it all along, but I'm too scared to do what's right for me at the expense of someone else's feelings…it easier to just let it decay naturally without actively speeding up the process on my part.

---

Damn. How did I end up so spineless and passive when it comes to things like this? And more importantly, why has this become such a pattern in my life?

OK. I promise that my next post will be gay, white-trashy, geeky, or some odd combination of the previous three in nature.

The Mostly Unfabulous Social Life of Kenny Ray

It was bound to happen sooner or later. Life imitating art imitating other art. No, that wasn't a typo. Here's how it went down…

A recent phone call with Hooters (the person, not the place) inspired me to break out my Camp DVD and enjoy another viewing of it. The lead actor, one Daniel Letterle, was just so — and I know this is going to sound even gayer than I want it to — intoxicating that I ended up googling to see if he'd been in any more movies. Fortunately he had a couple follow ups and so I loaded up my Netflix queue and waited by the mailbox. With the amount of quality TV running thin these days (can't believe it's still almost 5 months until Lost returns with new episodes) I've been working my way through my Netflix queue pretty fast so in almost no time I opened my mailbox to find "The Mostly Unfabulous Social Life of Ethan Green" waiting for me. It's a low-budget (in a good way) film based on the popular comic strip of the same name. A comedy peppered with hunky guys was just what I needed to keep me pushing out of the funk I'm in, but in addition to the laughs, the sighs, and the "holy six-pack abs" I found was a wake up call.

Smack dab in the middle of the movie Ethan has a little walk and talk with him mother (played so gloriously by Meredith Baxter of Family Ties fame). Ethan has been steady downward spiral and Harper (his mom) finally levels with him. And me. This is what I heard…

Consider for a moment that you're having the Kenny Reflex. You get close, and then you pull back. Kind of like a rubber band. Just when you have something good … you do something to sabotage it. That is the Kenny Reflex and you've been doing it all your life. You're afraid of getting close, you're afraid of what you're going to hear, you're afraid of what you've got. And you are going to live in this little box of fear unless you change. Get some courage, darlin'.

I got called out. By a character in a movie. A movie based on a comic strip. Maybe it was because the lines were delivered by Mrs. Keaton, er, I mean Meredith that it made me pay attention. While certain semi-recent people have definitely deserved the boot because their part in the relationship had become toxic, she was totally right. I live in a box of fear. Fear of rejection. And, this is where it gets weird, fear of acceptance. That last part is way too deep for me to get into right now as the ear ringing is back and tearing my brain in twain. But it's giving me a good deal to think about over the next couple weeks while concluding what to do about the "glum chum dilemma."

Go rent or buy Camp and TMUSLOEG, both are very enjoyable flicks! Besides, supporting independent cinema is good karma.

The glum chum dilemma

I'm vexed. Probably shouldn't be, but I am. It seems that the towering projects, working lunches, and late nights and weekends at the office have had an unusual and completely unexpected benefit. They've all kept me siloed and, as a result, presented me with a different perspective on my relationships not only at work, but outside of it (what little there is at the moment) as well. And this is what vexes me. I didn't want to consider an alternate perspective. Was content in letting myself take comfort in the grand vistas while subconsciously avoiding the warning signs that perhaps I'm really just going down the same path I've been many times before that will ultimately end with me broken at the bottom of an emotional chasm. Too melodramatic?

Not sure why, but for some reason people like to open up to me, spill the beans, sing me their sad song, etcetera. I'm their bartender but without the booze, bar tab, or pickled eggs. And I enjoy listening to them, the intimate connection that is formed by the private communication involved and the ensuing friendship that comes along with that. Can I help them? Unless it has something to do with the Adobe Creative Suite or setting up a home theater, usually not. But sometimes just knowing that there's another soul to talk to can be enough to make them feel better I guess. I pride myself in locking away their confessions, complaints, and confidential matters not to share with another soul. The ace up my sleeve, but only for these situations is it really useful, is that my memory is like a steel trap — one rusted and stuck in the open position — so half of the time I forget the conversation completely, and if not entirely, than just the important parts.

So how does my emotional bar tending end up with me at the bottom of melodramatic proportions? Simple…it's when said connection becomes unidirectional and the balance shifts from that of friend to pro bono therapist. When it goes from talking with them, to them talking at me, that's when it's time to reevaluate. And now that I've been given some perspective and can see my current whereabouts, I find myself at the fork in the path and wondering if I'm about to, once again, go the same way as with Curious, with Carlos (has it really been a year since I put an end to that whole mess already?!), and several other before them. I don't mind being the friend-in-need friend, just so long as that's not all I am to them. To bring up the bar tending analogy one more time (and really, I'm not that big into drinking), if the right balance between liquors and mixers aren't achieved you're either left with something that tastes flat or something that will lay you out flat, rather than a tasty concoction that gives you a nice, warm, and oh-so-slightly buzzed feeling. I want the warm and fuzzy feeling that a true friendship generates, and not the "taste this…does it taste right to you" drinks being served.

Part of me is paranoid that I'm just being paranoid because I don't want to go through that again so soon. The other part of me thinks the paranoid part of me is reading into things and doesn't want to change course. I don't know which part to listen to. Layer in the concentration breaking ringing in my ears for the past month (more on that later) and, well, I'm vexed. Maybe the best action to take is to sit here at the fork in the path for a little while longer and when my head fog clears up if I'll be able to see down each path a little further. Oh how I wish I could just use Google maps for this!

When you're burnt out, where do you find your bliss?

This has been (another) mentally, creatively, and physically draining week. Deadlines, last minute "oh yeah, can you do this when you have a moment, by which I really mean drop what you're doing and do this instead" projects, nearly completely sedentary for five or more straight hours except for keystrokes and mousing. It's all I can do but flat out lose it. But rather than let that happen, I'm trying to seek out the positives and not let the negatives take control. It's hard. I fear that one day I might lose that struggle.

After twelve-plus hour workdays, by the time I get home I'm a tangled mass of exhaustion and frustration; low blood sugar makes for a very short fuse. Any and every little annoyance or inconvenience pushes me to the brink. But then I remember that I must keep in control, find the things that bring back my bliss. My list of bliss builders is small, but mighty. The excitement a friend discovering a new passion, developing a new skill, shares with me. Reading about the adventures of another friend on a road trip across the nation. And on nights like tonight, it's realizing that it's Wednesday and my TiVo is happily recording a new episode of Mythbusters so I can enjoy it while I microwave a frozen dinner.

So that's where I find my bliss these days. Where do you find yours?

---

[5 minutes later…] — So it turns out that for some unexplained reason, the "new" episode of Mythbusters that TiVo was recording is actually a repeat from last season, even though the schedule says it's supposed to be brand-spaking new. Well that's just the prefect way to end the day. Screw off Discovery Channel, I'm going to bed.

Single Rider

It all started back in high school when I got my first set of wheels. A 1969 Chevy Malibu. A borderline muscle car (if it had a bigger engine) it was a rather butch vehicle for me, and I liked that. I also like that it was a hand-me-down from my dad and sort of symbolized a bit of a passing of the torch or the extension of a legacy. More importantly, to me, it symbolized freedom.

If I wanted to go somewhere, it was up to me. Hop in the car, and go as far as a tank of gas would allow. During the summer between my junior and senior year in high school, I could most often be found tearing up the deserted roads in the rolling hills east of town. The speedometer went up to 120-mph and I liked to see how close I could get to the century mark on the flat straightaways before having to brake hard before the next series of hills. Cranking the likes of Jesus Jones, Marky Mark & the Funky Bunch, C+C Music Factory, Vanilla Ice, Seal, Roxette, Madonna, Wilson Phillips, Depeche Mode, B-52s, Janet Jackson, and Amy Grant (yes, I had a varied taste in music, still do) on KWOD 106.5 FM during my long solo flights of back-roads fancy left me with a high, a sensation I find myself longing for whenever I'm feeling tied down. If I was lucky, "The Power of Love" by Huey Lewis and the News would hit the airwaves and I'd be transported into a state or nirvana pretending I was in a flux capacitor equipped DeLorean back in good ol' 1985. (Hey, I'm a geek, what did you expect?)

Back then, those joyrides-for-one were a time of self discovery. Thinking about the past, the future, and how to just keep making the most of the present. I had come to terms with the part of me that I had to keep secret, so getting away from everyone, even for a couple of hours, allowed me to drop character and just be me with me. Those were good times. Necessary times. And affordable times with gas under a buck a gallon.

I've never outgrown that need for solitary adventure. Throughout my varied collegiate endeavors, I would often find that the perfect study break to mentally refocus was usually a brisk drive on Silverado Trail through the vineyards of the Napa Valley (29 was always too crowded) or Hwy 1 around Half Moon Bay and points south. Heck, sometimes a good get-myself-lost-in-the-city drive would do the trick.

My first major trip by myself happened in the latter half of the 90s when I was given the opportunity to visit South Korea for a week, all expenses paid. There are so many great stories to tell — including slow dancing with and being serenaded by a woman at the same time — but such tales are for another time.

The next major solo trip was for what I consider my first "real" vacation, meaning that I was working a real job, making real money, and was using real vacation days to take my next globetrotting trip. Where did I end up? The Jamacian Outback. Click on the link if you've never heard of it. It is to this date probably my most daring and relaxing getaway ever. And yes, it too is filled with plenty of stories that will one day be told here.

The last big adventure-for-one was more than four years ago and I've got the itch to fly solo again. This time, though, I've got a few more shackles tying me down (mortgage, work, inflation) that are making it challenging to take the trip I want need to take. Not willing to let those things stop me, I've decided — and I know I'm tempting fate by even mentioning it here; the cookie told me not to — to take a shorter, more realistic road-trip down to SoCal and hit up 3 theme parks in three days. I've priced it all out and provided I can get those days off, it looks like it will be a wicked fun and still affordable thrill-seeking good time. Which brings us back to the title of this post. For those of you not familiar with the term, "single rider" refers traveling by themselves who is allowed to skip ahead the ride's queue and fill any open seat on the ride. It's an amazing time saver! The downside is that you're not able to share the thrill and experience with anyone you know in the moment, which depending on your outlook might not be so bad after all.

There you have it. I'm embracing my Single Rider status because I realized that at the end of the day, you're only going to have the trip you're looking for by going it alone. And if you want to share the memories with someone else, bring a camera and post your pics on Flickr. You won't have to buy the camera a seat on the plane and it won't work itself into a gay rage about how loudly you snore.

He held my stripped nuts in his hand…

Today really didn't end up exactly as planned. I got up this morning and on a whim took a quick shower in order to skeedaddle over to the movies to catch up on my must-see summer movie list which I had been a little slacking on. Caught up with "The Incredible Hulk." After that I picked up a sandwich and headed over to a different park than yesterdays outing, a better park with better grass and a better water feature, for an impromptu picnic and to continue reading When You Are Engulfed in Flames. The gentle breeze and steady white noise of the fountain in front of me made it easy to get totally lost in the pages or wonderful stories. The comfortable folding canvas chair I picked up at a drug store helped my body relax as well. Before I knew it, more than 3 hours had zoomed by and it was time to start my Sunday routine of Target and Trader Joes. Blissfully relaxed I merged into freeway traffic. Barely minutes later, BANG! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! "Oh shit!" was the only thing that I could exclaim as I frantically tried to get my car over to the shoulder amidst the Sunday drivers who had apparently never heard the term before and rather than drive a sane speed instead chose to believe they were on the Autobahn. There goes anything even remotely resembling "blissful" and/or "relaxed."

I'm not the complete nancy boy others might mistake me for, I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty under the hood with simple routine maintenance or changing a flat — I've even changed a tire on the 101 by SFO on the median shoulder (it's really more of a suggestion of a shoulder than a real shoulder) with cars whipping by at breakneck speeds (not unlike today) — but so help me, I couldn't get the bolts loose to get the bad tire off. Seriously! They were on way too tight and even putting my full weight into it had wouldn't get them to budge. Worried that I might cause the car to fall off the child's toy they call a jack and crush my foot trying to get the bolts loose, I had no other option but to call for roadside assistance. To his credit he showed up sooner than originally estimated and while I filled out paperwork, he took his chances with the tire swap. While he worked his mechanical magic (with the aid of some real tools), I stood out of the way and out of the hot afternoon sun wondering why the universe feels compelled to balance things out like that.

Couldn't I just have a nice relaxing day or weekend? Must it be cut short with a potentially life threatening predicament? Yes, I realize that I'm being a bit melodramatic, and yes, it's really more a coincidence than part of the universe's doing, but it feels good to be able to put the blame on something outside my control. I didn't notice that my roadside guardian angel (whose name was actually Angel, go figure) had come up to me while I was lost in thought. When I finally became aware of his presence I realized that he was apologizing for stripping my nuts. That's funny, I didn't know I had gotten lucky. Then I looked down to see a pair of horribly mangled orbs of metal. My lug nuts! And they were practically unrecognizable. I was a little surprised when he asked me if I wanted him to put them back on and let the next mechanic battle with removing them or simply leave them off. "Um, you're probably more an expert on these things than I am, but wouldn't it be unsafe to drive with only half of the lug nuts holding the wheel on?" I quizzed? He sheepishly agreed and turned to put them back on the car. When he was done he reminded me not to exceed 40 miles per hour and not to drive further than 50 miles on the Radio Flyer wagon wheel of a spare. Thank goodness it's Sunday and absolutely no tire shops or auto repair places are open because heaven forbid people who work 10 hour days Monday through Friday ever want to get some work done on a freaking weekend. Now I can go straight home without the distraction of buying new tires, or picking up the week's worth of groceries that are part of my Sunday ritual.

I have a habit of dwelling on the negative rather than the positive and so it was no surprise that I began to get down about having to take surface streets to and from work, which more than doubles my commute time. Plus with issues at work the next couple of days, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get my tire replaced within 50 miles because I live just far enough from work that one full commute would meet or surpass the quota and I'm not sure I can take any time away from work to get this fixed. While I'm sure things will work out, right now it doesn't seem possible. But, then again, at least I'm not dead. I should be happy to be alive and a stranger's help in getting my nuts off, even if they were a bit too manhandled in the process. Better manhandled than not handled at all, or say the saying goes, right?

Happy Independence

On this, the day of our (well, for Americans) independence, I find myself back at the movies (Wall-E to be specific) and once again blogging during the preshow. I'm flying solo, and enjoying the independence such flights of fancy for one offer. My only regret is that I should have decided earlier in the day that I was going solo rather than expecting my phone to announce a call, text, or email, the person on the other end enquiring about my agenda for today and wanting to hang out. While I did make good use of the hours I kept myself "on standby" I feel foolish for doing so, for convincing myself that I need other people to help me enjoy my day, rather than taking control of it from the start and allowing myself to enjoy the day as it unfolds. Not the first time this has happened, and probably not the last. It is something I know I need to get better at. Even though I recognize that I do it in part because I don't want to miss out on a chance to spend quality time with friends, I also recognize that it's a form of dependence that isn't healthy. I shouldn't feel I need to keep my schedule open in case they change their minds. I should feel comfortable making plans by myself, for myself. I shouldn't feel obligated to change my plans to accommodate a change in theirs. I don't feel any of that just yet, but at least I'm now working on it. It all comes back to reclaiming my time and making the most of it, doing everything from mundane chores to the special treats, like going to the movies. And it's OK to put my own desires, interests, life first. Oops, the show is about to begin, and the lady who just down right beside me smells to high heaven of flowery perfume. We're talking she bathed in it! Be back soon.

…

Two hours later, I'm now freezing my ass off on an adventure of total impulse to watch some 4th of July fireworks down by the river. Having never gone to the annual display, I'm not sure I'm even in a spot where I'll be able to see them clearly, but there's a ton of other people gathered here so my hopes are high that we can't all be newbies and staked out a poor viewing locale. Maybe this is just the thing I need to feel more connected and comfortable living here. That is, if I don't freeze to death first. It's getting hard to type on my iPhone as my hand is shivering and my thumb is cramping up. But no pain, no gain, right? And if this adventure turns out to be a bust, at least I can always get in some exercise walking along the river. Wait, what was I talking about before? Oh yeah, independence.

Well, I guess this is me, celebrating my independence while the rest of the nation celebrates its independence, taking time for myself to do something I want to do, for once not looking to others to provide happiness, companionship, validation. And while it would be nice to have someone here to share this moment (or lack thereof if I can't see the fireworks) I remain optimistic that sooner or later I'll find that someone who makes me as much as a priority as I do them. Or maybe I should just get a dog; they're less picky.

Dreamescapes

Maybe it's the heat, or the long hours at work, I'm not sure but something has been toying with my dreams. A couple months back, I started having some pretty weird dreams. Mostly they've been good dreams, relating to travel and trips. Some have been so interesting that I don't want to wake up from them, no matter if they start getting a bit twisted or unrealistic. My alarm will go off and I'll hit the snooze. Turn over and hope to jump back into the dream in the same place, which rarely happens, and when it does things usually start morphing and the plot turns into a different story than I was originally staring in.

In the last couple weeks, though, I've been having a hard time sleeping all the way through the night. I've been waking up at odd hours as the last resort to get out of a dream I didn't want to be in anymore. There's been two kinds of dreams that have been responsible so far. Working at a job I've never done before, without any training, no one around to help me out, and worst of all, no information available that explains what I'm supposed to be doing. Worry. Panic. Nightmare.

The other kind is where I'm being chased. The baddies run the gamut from wolves, to intruders/robbers, to zombies. Yes, zombies. There seems to be no rhyme or reason as why these dreams happen, no pattern that I've noticed. But they've been happening with such a frequency that now I know to wake myself up upon recognizing exactly what kind of dream I'm in, or when it starts to get too dicey. Running. Cold sweat. Terror.

I wish I knew what was causing these dreams, both good and bad. I'm a little concerned that I wake up remembering them so clearly. On the bright side, I usually don't remember them beyond my morning shower. Maybe I should start keeping a dream journal? It would have to be a tape recorder or something like that because I really don't think I'd be able to legibly write down my dreams seconds after waking up.

Some dreams I want to escape into, others I want to escape from. Maybe my brain is trying to tell me something about my waking life?

Practice makes perfect, except when it never will

Four years ago I woke up, turned on the news, and watched in drop-jawed amazement that two women were getting married at City Hall. Not just civil unioned, or committed to each other, but honest-to-blog married! As the reporting continued telling the story of how the couple, together for more than 50 years, now enjoying their golden years side by side, were the first same-sex couple to marry in California, I could feel the emotion starting the rise in my throat as my eyes began to well up. It was finally happening! It was unbelievable! It was moving! The love we could feel for someone the same gender as ourselves was finally being recognized as legitimate and equal to that of straight folks. It gave me hope. And it turned my thoughts to the possibility that I might be married one today too, and that perhaps I should get working on making myself more marriage material. What followed was nothing short of a media circus.

Of course, all this civil equality flying around airwaves was bound to attract the attention of a certain group of dangerous and hateful people — the Christian Reich, natch — and it wasn't long until they were doing all they could to restore the civil wrongs and unequality they were more comfortable with. Their favorite argument for why non-heteros should not be allowed to get married is that it would be a violation of the holy institution of marriage that God* sets forth in the Bible. (*It should be noted that God has never actually put pen, pencil, quill, or any other writing implement for that matter, to any type of receiving media. Nope, not even a dictaphone.) No, the words in the Bible were written by men based on what God told them. Of course, writers never embellish, or impart their own ideas to the prose they write, which is why the Fiction section at Barnes & Nobel is really filled with non-fiction books; turns out the word "non" is very costly to produce so most bookstores only buy a couple and rely on the customer to figure out what's going on. And God was not exact the editor-in-chief of the final Bible — which by the way, does anyone know which of all the hundreds of "versions" of the Bible is the one that is actually 100% Deity Approved? Just wondering incase I ever wind up on Jeopardy, or stuck trapped in an elevator with the Almighty…you know, so we'll have something to talk about — it's not like any of the multitude of writers ever had to turn in their drafts for spelling/grammer checks, edits, and approvals. Have you actually read the Bible? There's things in there that today we realize are discriminatory and unfair. But I digress. Actually I may need to digress twice after that whole thing just now.

OK, so the Christian Reich was complaining that gays were going to destroy the institution of marriage. Hmmm…you mean like the heteros already did? Let's look at the word that gets thrown around the most: institution. The dictionary (or a dictionary, since like the Bible, there's many a version, and I'm too lazy to be more specific) defines it as "an established law, practice, or custom." Well, here on earth, humans make/enforce the law, so there's strike one against that defense. Practice? Well, I often hear how hard marriage can be and that it's it requires constant work to get right…some might go far as to say it takes practice. Strike two. The last one is custom…which is really just a fancy way of explain a societal habit, and we all know that there's both good and bad habits, so…. Well, by my scorecard, that would be strike three. But lets say the for the sake of argument that it really can be considered an institution, and one that in today's world could even be deemed "holy." Maybe they've got a case with that…and if you ignored the divorce rate here (around 40% on average) you might be on to something. Now I've been to many weddings in my life, and all of them have had something in common…the vows. Sure they get phrased differently, but at heart they all say the same thing. Yet hundreds of thousands of people of all kinds of faiths file for divorce. So right there I have a hard time accepting that people get married because it's a holy institution. And what about atheists? Or Buddhists? Or any other faith that doesn't follow the Christian Bible as part of its doctrine? They can get married. And don't even get me started on Vegas…drive through window at the wedding chapel anyone? Heck, you don't even need to be sober to get married! So really, let's put down the word "holy" and back away slowly. Clearly it's just being wielded as a word weapon to scare the government from getting involved and making things fair. I'm sure the people who are raising a stink against gay marriage would be just as happy if the government made slavery legal again and took away a woman's right to vote.

But the government is involved in marriage. You have to get a marriage license for the city, state, country, world to recognize that you and your spouse are, um, spouses. You taxes are filed differently than single folk. And you get to register for gifts you want people to buy you that you'll use once and then forget about in the back of the cupboard until you're dividing up your possessions post divorce proceedings. Ok, that last one doesn't have anything to do with government.j

So where does that leave us? It leaves me wondering why heteros are so hyped up on the whole marriage thing if it's not really a holy institution that will be torn apart should gay people be allowed to join in. Gay people are expected to make do with civil unions, like it's something special just for us. Well, if it's so special, why aren't more straight people civil unioning it up? At least then they won't be tearing apart their own holy institution with their infidelities, spousal abuse, or boredom, right? But still marriage is a big deal to straighties, so there must me something more to getting married than meets the eye, or the press release of the anti-gay marriage activist group.

But the same-sex marriages performed four years ago were eventually nullified prompting legal action in attempt to restore that brief moment of equality. Days, weeks, months, years passed. And then, today, the headlines we've been hoping for, but never knowing for sure it would happen…"California Supreme Court Overturns Gay Marriage Ban" Once again I found myself watching the news, heartwarming stories of long-time loves, the promise equality. But this time it was different. Almost immediately I felt my cynical side step in. Maybe it's because part of me is expecting history to repeat itself and watch this get dragged back to court only to have the ban reinstated. Maybe it's because part of me is apprehensive that all gay marriages are going to be studied under a microscope and every little flaw or defect is going to be publicly denounced (while straight celebs book appearances on the late night talkshow circuit to talk about their ex-boy/girlfriend, their new boy/girlfriend, and, if time permits, their pending divorce). Or maybe it's because I'm doubtful that love can last longer than a lifetime…I'm not sure if I can love someone that long anymore. Aside from that couple on the news four years ago, the gay community doesn't exactly have role models to look to. Then again, I'm not sure it's much better over in heteroville either…I'm looking at you, Britney Spears.

Well, what as going to be just a short bit of reminiscing turned into my brain puking it guts out until it was left dry heaving on the tile floor of the interweb. Sorry for that. But my point is, and I do have one, is that restricting marriage to one group of people because another group might mess it up (or worse, set a higher standard for the first group to live up to) is just stupid. Marriage is not a perfect anything, and all the practice in the world won't make it perfect. It all comes down loving another person so much that you want to legally bind yourself to them for as long as you both shall live. As in forever. Or if you're a celebrity, at least 20 minutes.

Decisions, decisions…

Last month I asked the Universe what it was up to. You know, the whole, things felt like they were slightly askew, that a shift was happening? Well, leave it to the Universe to pull the ol' Let's Make a Deal trick and present me with two possible doors to choose from and the prizes on the other side equally desirable.

Door #1: The possibility of something different and a change of pace, yet still somewhat familiar and a more defined path, but at the same wouldn't offer any opportunities to see more of the world

Door #2: The chance to really change things up, go in a uniquely different direction, revisit a dormant passion and also fulfill a personal goal of traveling, but without a definite path for the future

Each door has it's pros and cons. Each door provides a solution to a current life issue, but neither offers a total solution. My gut is split 50/50 on what to do.

One needs a quick response, is more of a sure thing, but doesn't put me closer to my goals. The other could take a while to play out and would meet my goal of travel, but is far from a sure thing.

Oh, Universe, you are ever the trickster. You're never going to give a guy a break, huh?

Bye, Curious.

March was a month of reflection for me. It was back in the middle of the month that I had actually started to pen this entry but as several others it went unfinished, waiting for the inspiration to re–motivate me to finish what I had started. While I would hardly call it "inspiration" this time, the motivation unexpectedly returned…twice in as many days.

You may recall the Social Engineering posts from weeks ago, if not, get up to speed with this link, where I wondered about making friends out of coworkers while also struggling to balance the give and take of relationships in general. In Part 2 I had alluded to helping an unbalanced friendship (which upon retrospect I'm not even sure it could be considered one) dissolve. Well, this post is to be the catharsis of that allusion.

Dear Curious,

First of all I want to say that while I've enjoyed talking with you over the last couple years, what we have outside of the workplace is just not working for me. Maybe I'm alone in thinking this, but when 99.37% of all social interactions take place via AIM, that can't really be a solid foundation for something expected to stand the tests of time. Perhaps you've just become too familiar with being on the receiving end of other people's time and attention that you've lost the sight of the concept of reciprocation. Or maybe you're more self-centered than you want people to think and really have no interest in people other than what they can do for you (or in some cases, to you). Either way, my time is more valuable to me now than ever before and since there's no balance between the time I give you and the time you return, I'm going to be putting my time in more worthwhile investments. Don't worry about all the secrets you shared with me; they will go with me to the grave. Luckily I don't have to expect the same of you because you never really took the time to get to know me at all.

Now, I understand that we may run into each other on occasion on the company campus, which could be potentially awkward. It doesn't have to be as I will continue to be acceptably cordial for a workplace situation, but don't expect anything more as I will not from you.

Best wishes sorting out the complexities in your personal life. I suspect you've got a lot of soul searching and issues to come to grips with and while one should never be alone while sorting out such things, I'm resigning from being your go-to gay for such things in order to peruse other options. I apologize that this means that I must also rescind my offer of "always being someone you can talk to" as that may have ultimately been the genesis of the unbalance in our friendship acquaintanceship. But I'm sure you'll be fine…just give it time…people like you always land on their feet (on top of the people they used up along the way). You'll figure out who you are eventually…even if the rest of us already know.

Bye, Curious.

gkr

Wow. I do feel better. Now it's time for a quick shower and shave to meet up with Betty (in person!) for a little cinematic mood lift and good times.

Hey Universe, whatcha doing?

I don't think I'm alone when I say that the Universe is up to something. Within the past days and weeks, I've felt like things were slightly off. You know, like when your folks go out of town for the weekend and you throw a kickass kegger for all the popular kids in your school but somehow words gets out and everyone—and I do mean everyone—shows up and trashes the place leaving you to return everything to the way it was when your folks left, but even though you do your best it's never exactly the way it was before and your parents, while not sure exactly what, can just tell that something is different. That kind of off is what I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, I'm not likening the Universe to a one of the guys from Weird Science, nor Kelly LeBrock. If anything the Universe was the nerdy kid that hung out at the Library on weekends and put together puzzles with his parents at Friday nights in their wood paneled rec room while drinking Like cola and snacking on Ants on a Log. But I digress…and not a moment too soon. In talking with other people, similar observations have been shared. One of my favorites is that the Universe is correcting itself. I like the thought of that, it gives me hope and a sense comfort that justice has a chance to prevail after all. Unless it's just fucking with us.

What about you? Have you felt a skew and shift in your Universe? What would you like the see the Universe help correct in your existence?

Social Engineering - Part 2

Here is Part 1, in case you missed it.

Things change over time. People change. Adapt. Evolve. In high school my goal was to be friends with everyone in the school, but a decade and a half later it's far more important to build closer, more intimate connections with a much smaller group of people. Trouble is, the more time you spend with people and really get to know them, you either discover there's a solid foundation of common ground on which to continue to build the friendship, or you realize that the relationship just keeps turning in tight circles, with limited hope for developing into anything richer and more meaningful.

That's where I've figured out I stand a better chance of success with a little social "engineering" on my part. After all the good times and all the wasted time, I'm actively analyzing the foundations my relationships are built on, calculating what I put into them versus what I'm getting out of them, and then I do the same but from the other person's perspective. "If I put less ______ into this relationship, will the relationship dwindle? Is there equal active participation?" I question myself. Recently I've noticed that I may have let feelings get in the way of being honest with myself about the quality of certain relationships. It's in my nature to be loyal, often fiercely so, and I let myself be taken advantage of. Well no more! Slowly I'm becoming more comfortable in addressing those unhealthy relationships and helping them evaporate sooner rather than later, hopefully withou hurting anyone in the end. Aside from mentioning it here, I try to remove myself from the situation in a way that the other party won't really even notice. And how sad that they usually don't notice.

Since everyone's life is following a different course, and we're all moving at different speeds, is it inevitable that relationships will fizzle out eventually? What's the component of the relationship that can prevent that from happening? Or has the notion of the relationship changed so much in our modern world that life-long friendships are becoming a thing of the past, forever lost to our ever shortening attention spans? My mom still regularly keeps in touch with her friends and roommates from college (the ones that are still alive, anyway), an impressive time span of almost 50 years! Seriously, is that even possible nowadays, even with so many forms of immediate communication readily available?

During one of my silent drives I came to the conclusion that the average length of my non-family relationships is about 4 years, after which time we all just drift apart. Most often it's a great distance that sets the comradeship drift in motion, but it's the local and lost connections that trouble me. The ones that have dissolved into the continuous torrent of work and private life that I find myself thinking about, and analyzing hoping to find out why it happened so that I can break the cycle before it happens to my current relationships that I've found value and possible balance in. And, like I mentioned before, all of my non-family relationships are found in current and (recent) former coworkers. Probably not the best formula for success, huh?

I know I should probably start striking out and looking to build relationships with people outside of work. It's just so much easier to bond with the people you work with because work is a huge common denominator and you're never without something to talk about. I'll admit I feel intimidated at the thought of trying to build a friendship from scratch, and I don't know if I'm at a point in my life where I have the confidence to do it.

So for now, I'm just going to make sure that I'm being the best person I can and offering the best friendship I can to the people who mean the most to me, even though I know that history is working against us. And I'll continue to keep reevaluating the balances of the relationships, looks for ways to make minor adjustments to keep things in balance when necessary. It take two people to make a relationship work, but it only takes one to make it not. I'll just have to cut my losses from the one-sided relationships, move on, and hope that seeing these people around the campus and town from time to time won't be an issue.

Kenny Rogers sang, "You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away and know when to run." That's a pretty good metaphor for relationships, every one is a gamble. But unlike poker, you really only win when it's a draw.

Social Engineering - Part 1

Over the past many weeks, I've been thinking a lot about relationships. Friends. Family. Friends that are more like family… The connections with people I have now. The ones I want to have. The ones that have faded away. And the ones I've chosen to move past.

But I guess I've always been interested in the how relationships and friendships work and can evolve/devolve over time. My freshman year was as exciting as it was intimidating. By that point in my life I had known for years that I was attracted to guys and in elementary school and even junior high it had been easy to hide from letting those feelings because dating anyone wasn't really an option. But high school, well that's when dating, going steady, making out, and awkward sex is pretty much expected to occur and because my high school was made up of about 150 students max—it was a church school—chances of finding a boy friend were slim to none. And coming out in high school, well that just wasn't an option. And to make matters worse for my homo hormones, the upper class guys were hot. They were also pricks and seemed very content to make this socially awkward teen feel all the more so. Except for one.

His name was Greg, a senior. He had an electric smile to compliment his friendly demeanor. He wasn't a jock, though he was athletic. He wasn't a geek, though I think he was smarter than he let on. He wasn't the BMOC (big man on campus) though he was well loved and could be seen frequently getting and giving hugs to everyone on campus. While too much time has passed to recall any specific moments, I do fondly remember a few times he would flash me a smile or a wink after I had endured the requisite taunting from his classmates letting me know no to worry about it. I vowed that during my next 4 years I would become the Greg of my tenure.

Squiggle dissolve a la Wayne's World to my senior year. I managed to reach graduation day without having to have a girlfriend, and obviously no boyfriend either, but I achieved my goal of being generally well liked by the student body and even the teachers. Looking back I realize now that such a goal had an unforeseen consequence, I ultimately didn't have any close/intimate relationships to show for my time there, not even after having some of the same classmates all the way back to first grade. Don't feel bad for me, I don't. I was happy—more or less—at the time even if I can't say I really miss those years now. While many people wish they could relive their high school days, I'm not one of them, I have no desire to relive the past or reconnect with those people now. I'm not the person they knew then.

So why the high school flashback? Well after putting in nearly five years of corporate office work, I'm able to confirm that aside from being paid to show up every day, it's more like high school than not. There's the same politics, cliques, rumors, backstabbing, a brain, a jock, a princess…I'm so Anthony Michael Hall (if he had a mullet) but this ain't no Breakfast Club. The stakes are much higher. Which is why it is sad that perceptions still rule over fact. I guess somethings will never change.

One of the perceptions that has me worried is how my relationships with others in the company are seen. Some of my coworkers are more than just coworkers, they're my friends. Right now I'm at a point in my life where the people who I'm closest to are coworkers, or previous coworkers. And that has me in a quandary. There's a lot of politics and social structure where I work, like high school. But unlike high school, this time it's not my goal to be friends with everyone. These days I'd rather just keep developing my current friendships so that when the inevitable change of department, company, or location occurs, those connections will still be there even if the actual people aren't. I find myself analyzing how these friendships are being viewed by other people, and I'm worried that they're being taken out of context. What sucks is that there's little that can be done about it, because people also see what they want to see. And then there's the people who use you to bolster their own careers. I really don't like the cut throat side of working in a corporate environment, but I'm not sure one can ever escape it.

Where does that leave me? On edge. Questioning my actions around the people I call friends, and the ones that aren't, and how each with view the other. Of course the workplace is meant for work, not social interaction, but humans are social beings by nature so eliminating the social element of working with people is just unnatural. Are developing personal friendships in the workplace a bad idea? Is it wrong to maintain a social relationship outside of work?

More to come… but in the mean time, leave your 2¢ in the comments.