Sitting in my shrink's waiting room, I was thumbing through a Psychology Today. I read an article about taking the risk of looking for a new job. I was struck by this quote.

"By leaving your comfort zone and putting your toe in the water, you're stronger no matter what the outcome."

The New Me is less hesitant of taking risks. Don't think I am completely fearless. Some terrify me greatly, but the above quote is etched in my heart and I know it to be true.

A few months ago I took a risk with D's Ex. As a result, this weekend we got together for brunch (doing brunch seems like such a gay thing to do/say...doesn't it?). It was the first time we've ever spent time together just the two of us. We ended up talking for a couple hours. Somewhere near the beginning I said, "Should we just talk about D and get that over with?" Turns out he didn't know what happened between the two of us. He doesn't see or talk to D much anymore. We went on to talk about music, travel, work, etc. It was a really nice time.

Last night after dinner, Jenn and I were walking back to her car. She told me she's really enjoyed the time we've been spending together recently and wondered out loud why we've waited so long to hang out more.

"It's cause we only recently threw out our rule books."

We had been talking recently about changes we've been making and what it means to redefine your life by not playing by the old rules you get stuck with. Over the last few weeks, I have encountered a number of truly unique and interesting individuals. I would have never met these people if I were playing by my old rules. I wouldn't have had the experiences I've had recently if I stayed safely tucked away in my comfort zone.

Risk vs. Reward. So true.

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Permalink | File Under: Thinking

One day I was in a meeting with two co-workers. We were in a conference room discussing a major initiative we were starting. I was listening to the two of them but kept hearing some noise that was distracting me. "What the hell is that sound?" I kept thinking as I casually looked around the room, searching for the culprit. Eventually I discovered the source.

It was me. Every breath I took was accompanied with a slight wheezing sound. I didn't hear much else in that meeting after that because I was too busy thinking, "HOLY SHIT! I'M FUCKING WHEEZING FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"

After that I made a solid effort to quit smoking. Coincidentally, I started around the time I turned thirty. It was very hard and took some time. For about a year I was a "social smoker", I only smoked when I was at a bar or drinking. I had one relapse for about a month or two around the holidays, but eventually stopped again. In a few months I will turn thirty-five and I'm happy to report I've been 100% smoke-free for about three or four years.

In addition to quitting smoking, I've also made great strides in improving my health. Pizza pockets are no longer a staple of my diet. I conquered my disgust of salad. I exercise regularly. I take vitamins and supplements daily. I see my doctor often for regular check-ups. Health-wise, I am a completely different person from who I was in my twenties.

So why the fuck does it feel like my body is constantly falling apart!?

This year overall has been particularly stressful in terms of my health. First, there is the whole dealing with depression. Then my tumble down the stairs. Of course, who could forget my two week stint with "yellow death". But I've made it through all of that with flying colors, whatever that means. Today, I feel great! The best I've felt in years.

So why the fuck does it feel like my body is constantly falling apart!?

One of the requirements to become a volunteer at the homeless youth program is to get a simple skin test for tuberculosis. TB is common among the homeless. Monday, I showed up at the outreach center. In the medical van I was given the test, a simple prick of a needle on the underside of my forearm. I was told what it would look like if there was something to worry about and instructed to come back in two days to have it checked.

Yesterday morning I climbed aboard the medical van to be greeted by the nurse. "How does it look?" she asked. "Okay I guess," I said and I stuck out my arm to show her. It looked nothing like she described on Monday. There was a little redness but I assumed that was because I have very sensitive skin. I can eat seasoned fries and get a rash.

"Oh honey, that's not fine," she said examining my arm. "That's positive."

"WHAT!?" I clipped out in disbelief.

Then she called out to the other volunteers. "Everyone gather around so you can see what a positive skin test looks like." The others swarm around me inspecting my arm. My head is swimming with questions, but I have to take some time out to be a case study for the med van crew. The nurse even when so far as to mark on my arm with a pen to show everyone the characteristics of a positive result. "You see here. See that it's not only red but also raised. That tells you it's positive."

After everyone had sufficiently familiarized themselves with my arm, I asked the nurse what it means. She said that at some point I have been exposed to TB. "WHAT!? How?" I shot off again looking at my arm. She asked me a bunch of routine questions. Then she tells me I will have to go to "County" for a chest x-ray. My mind pictures not an ER filled with pretty doctors like on ER, but a scary run-down free clinic filled with plenty of people who could expose me to TB.

She calls many numbers and eventually gives up and tells me to just go see my primary care physician. I tell her okay and I have an appointment scheduled for next week to see him.

"No. He needs to see this today."

Alright. That's calming.

So I call my doctor's office and they get me an appointment later that morning. I go back to work and pack up my things because fuck if I'm going to be able to concentrate anymore that day.

When my doctor enters the room, he greets me and makes small talk. He sits in his little rolling chair and with his feet backs himself up against the opposite wall. I am so scared and freaked out at this point.

"Are you backing away from me because I am super contagious or something!?"

He looks up and laughs. He says no. He just wants to rest his back against the cabinet. He explains what the test means and what active and latent TB is. He tells me I most likely have latent TB which means I have been exposed but it is lying dormant inside me and I'm not contagious to anyone. He tells me I will have a chest x-ray to confirm the diagnosis and will have to take medication for a year to get rid of it.

"Great," I think. "Another fucking pill. I'm going to have to start keeping them all in a tackle box eventually."

He tells me I will have to see him in a month and I don't need to see him next week. I bring up the things I was going to discuss with him next week, which lead to me being referred to a dermatologist for a suspicious mole and an ear, nose, throat guy for a problem with my sinuses. "What else can go wrong today?" I wondered.

Then I get a blood test to check my liver function, because that is a risk with this medication. (Super!) I get my chest x-ray and go to the pharmacy to fill my prescription. By the time I got home, I was mentally exhausted and just went to bed to take a nap.

While it's fun to rant, bitch, moan and make comedic fodder about this, it is a good thing that I found out before it turned into active TB. I know that.

So why the fuck does it feel like my body is constantly falling apart!?

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Permalink | File Under: Life, Ranting

As I was driving into work this morning, I drove up to the badge reader that opens the gate to the parking lot. I noticed the suburban in front of me. It had a large confederate flag on the back window.

I sat there with my mouth gaping open in shock. Then my blood started to boil. I followed the suburban through the lot so I could get a glimpse who this asshole was. I didn't recognize him and he went toward a different building than I.

I don't get it! I don't understand why people are still like this. It's the year two thousand fucking four for crying out loud!

I understand that people are only human and we all have certain prejudices. I admit I have some. But to go to work with that on your vehicle, to a place that prides itself on diversity and has a very diverse staff of races, genders, etc. It is simply mind boggling and makes me sick to my stomach.

I have a friend at work whom I lunch with often. She is black. I am white. At first I didn't notice it but eventually I saw the stares. Not only from white people, but particularly black people. I just glare back at them until they look away. Of course, no one ever says anything to use, but their faces say enough. My friend didn't notice until I pointed it out. "You should see the looks my mother gets when she has my kids with her." Her mother is white.

When is it going to change? What breaks this cycle?

I don't have the answers but I have a feeling religion plays a big part in it. I saw a documentary last week called What The #$&! Do We Know!?. It's a documentary about quantum physics, brain chemistry and spirituality. Sounds dull, right? It was completely fascinating and at times, very over my head. One of the things that got me thinking the most was what all the scientists had to say about our concept of God. Basically many agreed that we as human being can never truly understand what God is because we simply don't have the comprehension and that what many believe to be God is false. There is no good and bad where God is concerned because those are man made concepts.

I don't believe most religions are good for humanity. So many people have abused minorities and women in the name of God. I have a serious problem with that Wars are started because of religions that Man built. Religiously sanctioned hatred and bigotry is evident in our society. It angers me.

A few years ago I read Why Christianity Must Change or Die. In it the author refers to "believers in exile" as people who have grown weary of the out-dated provincial tenets of Christianity. We live in a modern world full of knowledge and technology that obviously wasn't available in the First Century. Doesn't it make sense some of those precepts would be archaic now?

Some days when I think about the world we live in I get worn out. Everyday I see images on the news, read things about our government and country, see fires burning in cities I can't pronounce, look at faces of people in need. It makes me very sad.

I can only hope it will one day get better. Sometimes it feels like I am having to convince myself of that.

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Permalink | File Under: Ranting, Thinking

Since starting this blog, I made a conscious decision to not post a lot about my job. It's not that I'm secretive or private about it. I just I don't think my job is particularly interesting and don't think you would find it that fascinating either. Plus I, like most people, completely loathe my job. It's not a career, it's merely a means to an end. It pays the bills. End of story. Anything I would have to say would likely border on constant negativity rather than comedic fodder, so I spare you from the bad vibes Dear Reader. That's how much you mean to me.

Today, I'm going to bend my rule a bit and tell you about some of my fellow employees. I work in a typical cubicle office setting (i.e., prison). For some reason there has been a lot of relocating in the office. Teams are being regrouped. Departments are moving to other buildings to make room for new hires. It's been a bustle of activity and frankly has been working my last nerve.

I should tell you that I work on a virtual team. My team is a rather large one, however we are scattered throughout the country from one coast to the other and many states in between. There are only two of us at this location and we rarely see each other face to face, therefore, none of the people in my area are people I directly work with. We are all cogs in the same giant machine, but we work in different within different gears.

Since moving to this location a couple years ago, I've had the most wonderful cubicle neighbor. She was quiet, polite, considerate and kept to herself. She was a disaffected employee's dream. We'd occasionally gossip about other people in the building and IM each other when weirdoes were around. "My god that bitch is loud!" or "Did you know what's-his-name hums while he types?."

Sadly, she moved to another section of the building a couple months ago. Since then I have been inquiring about my new neighbor hoping I could exercise a little pull (as if) to whom it would be. I didn't want a smoker (gag!) or someone who has to be on the phone constantly (too noisy). I also didn't want someone who would bug me all day. I've been with the company long enough to gain a reputation as someone to go to for answers, which sometimes is flattering but most of the time, just plain intrusive.

After weeks of prodding and prying, I found out it was between two guys: Melba Toast Man and Leather Bear. Melba Toast Man is...well, bland, white and the kind of guy who wears Dockers all the time. Sounds dull right? That is exactly the kind of person I want sitting next to me. After all, melba toast goes with everything...right?

Instead, I ended up with Bachelor Number 2, Mr. Leather Bear. Leather Bear is obnoxious, rude and in-your-face. I don't think he means to be. Being an asshole just comes naturally to him.

You may ask Dear Reader, "But Brian, how do you know he is a leather bear?" Well, other than the fact he looks the part, his truck is well represented with the logos.

Leather Bear hangs out with Blonde Mormon Virgin a lot, a kid equally if not more obnoxious, rude and in-your-face. I've known this punk since he started working here. In fact, I trained him and he has only gotten more irritating every passing year.

They are together so much I have dubbed them the New Nick & Jessica. Just like Nick & Jessica, they are seen together EVERYWHERE and also just like Nick & Jessica, they make me very, very nauseous. Blonde Mormon Virgin is obviously the Jessica of the two and much like Chicken of the Sea, I have to wonder if he even knows what a leather bear is.

Before you think you know which role Leather Bear plays, guess again. When gossiping with my favorite admin, Hot Chica, she says to me "I bet Leather Bear is the submissive one. He may be all tall and muscular but underneath it all, he's just a big girl."

See why I love her so?

On the other side of me is my least favorite admin, Perfume Lady. She has an obsessive need to reapply her cologne at least twice a day. And it is strong and smells like someone's Nana! My allergies make me hyper-sensitive to colognes and perfumes. I rarely wear any and when I do they are very light and barely noticeable.

Not her. It as if she bathes in it. Now, I know I could use my outstanding interpersonal business skills to address this with her and share my concerns for creating a comfortable work environment. But instead I addressed it this way.

"Are you trying to kill me!?" I yelled peering over the cubicle wall.

Without batting an eye she said, "Yes." She looked up and asked what did I mean. Then I went into a tic filled fit that sounded much like Professor Frink on the Simpsons.

"With the perfume and the spritzing and the constant blast of smell and the chocking in my throat and the watery eyes and I can't breathe and bhay-gn-FLAY-VN!!"

Obviously, this was not the most prudent way to deal with this situation. She continues to spray Eau de Old Woman each and every day, especially after lunch.

She's also weird and lacks borders. A couple months ago, I slept funny and my back paid the priced. For a couple days, I walked around like a little old man. She noticed, so I told her what happened and went to retreat to my cube. Later that afternoon she saw me slowly making my way down the hall. She asked if I wanted her to walk on my back. I said no thanks, and inside cringed at the thought of her walking on my back. (Does that ever help?)

Then she said...and keep in mind at this time I barely knew this lady aside from her first name. She said in a sly hushed tone, "It's all the sex you've been having."

Me on the outside: blank stare. Me on the inside: I'm thinking, "OH...MY...GOD!!! We need to set a boundary here!"

Instead I just laughed it off. "Hey, you're an admin. Do you happen to have the number for Human Resources? I think I need to give them a call." End of conversation.

Aside from the extreme case of Ick she gives me and the constant assault to my sinuses, she is otherwise harmless. A complete nut case, but a harmless one.

Time to go back to daydreaming about a life outside of The Company. Very soon Dear Readers, action will start to be taken to make it a reality. I just need to be patient. Very, very patient.

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Permalink | File Under: Life

A few months ago, Micheale told me she and Cheryl were starting an organization for the issue of gay marriage. It has grown into something quite remarkable.

Straight Alliance for Marriage Equality (SAME) is an advocacy group whose mission is to educate, inspire and mobilize heterosexual activists in support of full marriage equality for same-sex couples.

One of the main goals of SAME is to have at least 300 straight allies march in New York City's Pride March this June 27. I think it's a brilliant concept: they don't want money, just people.

So what can you do to help? You can help spread the word. Let your friends and family, gay or straight, no about this initiative. Even if you don't live in New York or don't know anyone who does, spreading the word helps create awareness and education. (Did you know that federal law grants 1,049 benefits and responsibilities based on marital status - not to mention hundreds more offered by every state? That number is far more staggering than I imagined.)

Also, chances are someone you send information to is like to know someone in New York who may want to join. (It's that whole "they tell two friends and they'll tell two friends, and so on and so on..." concept.)

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Permalink | File Under: Sharing

Mother, mother, you're not listening any more
I am still the little boy with his height notched on the door
And it seems that my life has not turned out cut and dry
And it should have been love, love that showed you why

You cannot deny, you cannot deny me now

Father, father you are making a big mistake
I am not a shiny trophy, or another call that you forgot to make
And I have listened very closely to every word you have not tried
And it should have been love, love that showed you why

You cannot deny, you cannot deny me now

Oh my Lord, why's it taken you so long?
To give me grace and the dignity to right these wrongs
I will lead today, and I will follow you tomorrow
When the gloaming of my life, brings the promise of a peaceful night
And there's just one thing that I need to know

That you will not deny, you will not deny me now

- Jonatha Brooke

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Permalink | File Under: Music

Sunday night I went on my first street outreach for the homeless youth program I am volunteering for. Street outreach is when volunteers and staff canvas the streets, looking to make contact with youth who are living on the streets. They offer food, water, clothing...basic needs stuff on a no questions asked basis, so the seek building a relationship with the kids in hopes they will seek the services the organization offers to get off the streets.

It was, to say the least, an eye-opening experience and an extremely humbling one.

I met the two volunteers I'd be riding with at the outreach center around five o'clock. Doug* (* denotes name change to protect privacy.) has been with the program since late last year. He gives me a quick tour of the center, showing me the computer lab where kids can work on obtaining their GED, the kitchen, the supply rooms, etc. We fill a crate with white athletic socks while making small talk: where do I live, what do I do, why did I choose to volunteer there. We gather some more supplies and take them to the van to be greeted by Susan*. Tonight is Susan's third night with street outreach. We put deodorant, shampoo, soap, toothpaste and tooth brushes in plastic bags while Doug adds fruit cups to pre-pared bags of food.

Once we have the van loaded and I'm given a temporary bright yellow t-shirt to identify myself as YOUTH STREET OUTREACH, we get in the van and head to our first destination. During our drive, Doug gives me a run down of what we will be doing and where we will be going. We drive through the parking lot of the Phoenix Library. Doug tells Susan and I of some of what he has seen and some stories of successes of kids they have helped. We don't stop at the park. It may be too early. We head to a shelter south of the library.

I've seen homeless people before, usually one or two at a time. Sometimes they would wander into the community center when I worked the front desk. They'd be seeking shelter from the hot Arizona sun. Where I work there is a homeless guy who lives under a bridge. He is there every day when I drive in and every day when I leave to go home. So, I've seen one or two at a time. That didn't prepare me for a visit to this shelter.

The street was lined with homeless men sleeping under trees and on the curb. As we drove up to the shelter I see about ten men and women hanging out in front. As Doug parks the van, he tells Susan and I, "this is the worst place to be if you are a homeless kid. It's awful here." He tells us when sex offenders are released from prison they are required to have an address for registration. If they don't have any place to go, they get dumped at this shelter. Not a good place for vulnerable 18-21 year olds to be.

We first visit the women's wing. The woman working the front desk barely looks up from her magazine to hand us our pass to enter. We go up stairs are another staff member buzzes us in. Doug yells out, "Man on the floor!" as Susan walks down the hall and enters rooms looking for potentials. Eventually she returns with a young girl who goes to the van with us.

Lisa* is 21 years old and heavy set. She has the face of a child. Smooth skin with big brown eyes. A sweet face. She tells us she has two children: a two year old and a five month old. Both are in child protective services. Then she tells us she just found out that day she is one month pregnant.

I felt my heart sink.

Unfortunately, to qualify for our program you can't be pregnant, however we have information for a shelter that focuses on mothers and keeping the family together. Doug tells her this is not the place she should be. She says she knows and plans on going to the other shelter soon. We offer he some food. She tells us she can't take it inside. We give it to her any way and tell he she can eat it outside before going back in. She thanks us and we head to the men's shelter where we find four boys who speak no English. A man offers to translate for us. We give them food, water and socks and information in Spanish. We also give some to our translator to thank him.

Next we went around the corner to what is affectionately know as "Crack Alley". Doug and Susan tell me repeatedly how scary Crack Alley is. I almost want to ask them to stop, because they are just making me increasingly uneasy and I'm starting to question if street outreach is for me. Dealers and crack heads line the streets. We witness a working girl walking up to a mini van. A man flags us down, possibly thinking we are try to make a score. Doug eventually recognizes him. We don't get out of the van but we crack the window, my window, slightly to talk to him. I am trying to hide how nervous I am.

Dwayne* resides at the other shelter. He tells us that he went to church that morning to "receive his blessing" and that he just found out his mother died in prison. We ask him is he needs anything and he says he could use some food. Doug cracks my window a bit more so I can hand it to him, all while thinking "don't look scared, don't look scared." We tell Dwayne to keep safe and slowly leave Crack Alley and head to the freeway to go to Tempe.

Mill Avenue in Tempe is bustling hot spot. Near Arizona State's campus, it is lined with bars and restaurants that are typically packed every night. There are a couple movie theaters and lots of little quaint shops. When I first moved to Tempe, it was the home of my favorite bookstore. Over the years, corporate America has slowly taken over and pushed many of the small businesses out only to be replaced with chain stores and eateries. Much of its charm is lost and it saddens me whenever I am there.

Mill Avenue is also home to many street youth. They congregate in packs on corners and benches. They are pierced and tattooed. They have punk haircuts and grow beards and dread locks. There is an almost bohemian quality to the homeless on Mill Avenue. I remember reading an article about it once and it is apparent well known as a "hip" place to be if you are young and on the street.

We drive slowly down the street, making our presence known before pulling into a well lit alley behind a popular yuppie restaurant. Several kids follow us. We ask them to wait their turn and come one at a time. The first thing I notice about the kids of Mill Ave. is they seem to have a lot more energy than the others I've met so far. The other kids seemed tired and sad. These kids were all smiles and high fives. These kids also tend to give us street names instead of their real names. Names like Lizard and Half Pint. We pass out our food, water, hygiene packs and socks. Eventually we run out of food packs as the last person leaves. We lock the van and take a walk around Mill Ave.

We pass the kids we just saw on the corner as we cross the street. Doug asks some kids for a particular kid he's looking for, Alex*. Alex has been on the street since he was sixteen. He is now twenty-one. Doug tells us he is the most polite, well behaved kid he has met during outreach. He doesn't do drugs and he helps the other kids out. He warns the outreach team, which kids could cause trouble and directs others to us for our services. Alex recently got a job in construction and Doug has brought him so sports drinks and canned food. No one has seen him and we never find him.

Eventually we come across Sleepy (his street name) who is spanging (asking for spare change). Sleepy is talking to a woman in a Sunday dress and wheelchair. She seems to be doing a street outreach of her own but for whom, we aren't sure. She tells us her street name is Joy and introduces her companion, who's name I don't remember because she doesn't say a word while we are there. and we introduce ourselves. She is taken aback by Doug's name, because it turns out her late husband's name was Doug. She proceeds to tell Doug about the late Doug in great detail while Susan and I exchange looks acknowledging we think Joy's elevator doesn't make it to the top floor.

After Joy and her nameless helper leave, we focus on Sleepy. Sleep has long hair on top but it is sheered extremely short around the sides and back. The top hair is unwashed and on it's way to matting into dreads. It sort of looks like a thick fern like Sideshow Bob's. His frame and face are thin. He looks worried.

Sleepy tells us he has a court date the next day and is facing jail time. He was busted for twenty bucks of pot. He has an outstanding warrant for his arrest in another state, but doesn't say for what. While looking at him I notice his eyes. This boy is weathered looking, tired and depressed, but his eyes are the eyes of a child. Lost and alone. Innocent.

We ask him if he needs anything. He says he could use some food, however we are out of food. Doug looks around and tells him although we aren't supposed to, we'll get him something from a fast food place but he shouldn't tell anyone. We go back to the van and get a bag to disguise the sack from the restaurant. Shortly we return with a combo meal. He thanks us and we tell him he is welcome. As we walk back to the van, I keep thinking about Sleepy's eyes. I tell Susan my heart is breaking. She says, "Yeah. Unfortunately you can't take them
home."

On our way back to the outreach center, we drive down Van Buren Street. Van Buren is notorious in Phoenix for prostitution. Female, male, tranny. They are all there. Doug tells me we never initiate contact with the working girls. Once someone did stop to help. A few days later, they found out the girl's pimp killed her for talking to them. So for their safety, we just drive through, hoping they see the phone number on the van and call for help.

Back at the Outreach Center, we lock up the van and file the paper work. I thank Doug and Susan and tell them I hope to see them again soon.

Driving home, I keep thinking about Sleepy. I keep seeing those eyes. I fell my eyes well up with tears and am about to lose it when my cell phone rings. The Roommate is calling to see if everything is okay and when I will be home. I collect myself quickly and tell her I will be home soon.

That night, safe in my warm bed, I closed my eyes and saw Sleepy. I saw his eyes, looking up at me. Lost. Alone. Sad. I'll never forget those eyes. I hope I have a chance to see them again the next time I head out in the van.

Comments (2)
Permalink | File Under: Life

1. I sleep with my feet sticking out from under the covers.

2. The room has to be pretty cool for me to fall asleep.

3. I too am a hot
sleeper. Sometimes, I think my body reaches such high thermal nuclear temperatures,
surely I must glow in my sleep.

4. I hate when The Cat wants to sleep in my room at night. I'm glad he usually
sleeps with The Roommate.

5. On the other hand, I'm addicted to watching him sleep. He's just so darn
cute.

6. I love shopping in thrift shops.

7. I prefer quite evenings at home to a night at the bars.

8. I didn't get my driver's license until I was 20. The only reason I got it was
for identification so merchants would accept my checks.

9. I believe everyone has the power to change their life, sometimes you just
need some help.

10. I have never eaten sushi. I hope to change that one day.

11. When I was in high school and college, I had an extremely sarcastic tone of
voice. So much, that in college, any time I was telling someone something
serious or honest, I would have to raise my hand while doing so, just so they'd
know I was being sincere.

12. I love office supplies but hate offices.

13. I think one day I will finally take the plunge and become a vegetarian.

14. I am interested in tattoos and what they say about a person, but don't think
I could ever commit to getting one.

15. I wonder what that says about me.

16. If I could trade jobs with anyone, it would be Steve
Hartman. I have no desire to be on TV or be a journalist, but I love asking
people questions and finding something interesting about them.

17. The first song I taught myself to play on guitar was Shawn Colvin's Round of
Blues.

18. I spend too much money on magazines and magazine subscriptions, however I
don't plan on stopping anytime soon.

19. When I was in high school, many strangers mistook me for much older than I
was. In fact, the first time I bought beer as a minor, I was in such disbelief
that I was actually going to get away with it that I wanted to say, "Do you
have any idea how old I am?"

20. Luckily now many people mistake me for younger, but not much. I wonder how
much longer I can pull that off.

21. As a boy, I had the biggest crush on Shaun Cassidy. I wanted to be
the third Hardy Boy. In fact, I remember my parents gave me a t-shirt with a
glittery iron on of his face. I wore it all the time and was really sad when I
out grew it. I wish I still had it.

22. I only have two things from my childhood. A teddy bear who probably wishes
he was euthanized (Poor thing!) and a little toy Shazam car.

23. I am very fortunate to have an abundance of friends. So many, that most
don't know each other. I dream of one day bringing them all together so I can
have all the people I love under on roof, even for just one evening.

24. I believe the best is yet to come.

25. I like to make lists.

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Permalink | File Under: Lists

I hate the reality television craze. It's repugnant and offends me. Okay,
that's a little strong. I don't give it much thought actually. I'm just feeling
melodramatic today.

I think like with most fads, it ends up producing crappy rip-off after crappy rip-off.
I admit to watching a few programs. I watched the first season of Survivor, but
haven't seen any since. I faithfully watched four seasons of The Real World, but
then turned off my cable. During the summer, I sometimes tune into Big Brother,
the laziest of all reality shows, when I am bored. (All they do is lay around on
Ikea furniture and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.) I am proud to say I
never watch American Idol. (It is repugnant and offends me.) When I work
from home, I usually watch Starting Over. (I'm currently fascinated with Amy's
hair. Have they ever talked about her hair on the show or shown her dyeing it? I
love her but I want the makeover chick Andy to just hold her down and dunk her
head in a bucket of Nice & Easy.)

So, I admit to watching some, but it is rare. (Lately, it's rare I watch any
television at all. I don't seem to have the attention span anymore.)

Just let me say I am so excited about Monday's premiere of PBS's Colonial
House. I love that PBS jumped on the reality show craze, but has somehow made it
educational as well as entertaining and I'll admit: it appears more cultured.

I
simply adored FronTier House a couple years ago. I was so hooked. My
favorite part was on the first episode when the mother from California
practically had a break down when she was told she couldn't wear make up because
only actors and prostitutes wore make up in that time.

Manor House was another load of fun. I was so happy they showed all episodes
marathon style during a weekend. I laid on the sofa all weekend and watched the
scullery maids drop like flies. I wanted to kick the little boys of the manor
and their dad was a pompous ass I figured needed little training on being a rude
overlord to his staff.

Colonial House looks like it is going to be great fun. There are about two dozen
people living by the strict rules of 1628. I can't wait to see the first public
punishment. (Bring on the stockade!) A couple of the indentured servants are
gay, so it will be interesting to see how they react to life pre-17th century.

I don't know why I enjoy these programs so much. I'm not a history buff, nor do
I want to be. Maybe it's the whole dressing up and playing a part aspect. It's
adults playing make believe and dress up.

Nah. It's definitely the public punishments. Gotta love that.

Comments (5)
Permalink | File Under: Raving

Instant Messaging with Mark

Mark: [Emailguy is] playing hooky tomorrow from work to spend the night with me
since he leaves friday for lubbock

CBG: getting jealous again. (i don't want to be that guy)

Mark: ok i'll stop lol

CBG: you can tell me all about it this weekend and make me even more
jealous.

Mark: well he'll be out of town

CBG: i'm sure he'll wear you out on friday. (did i say that?)

Mark: LOL i'm sure he will. *sigh*

CBG: are you fanning yourself just thinking about it?

Mark: yes. moist as a cupcake...down there

CBG: ALRIGHT! time to get back to work and cut this inappropriate talk out.

Text Messaging with Kristin

Me: Ugh! So far, this week has sucked big, fat donkey dicks. I am SO ready for
the weekend.

She: If it helps, I'm with my Mom.

Me: You win.

Comments (0)
Permalink | File Under: Chats

So far this week, I've been feeling extremely restless. I haven't been able to focus on
anything at work. I move from project to project to project, just doing a little
at a time. (Oh...and checking my Gmail about a zillion times a day. It's a
sickness.) It's all the same stupid shit and I'm just not in the mood.

I want to get the hell out of here but I have nowhere to go and no money even if
I did. I think most of what I'm feeling is just I-don't-want-to-be-at-work-ness.
Yesterday before lunch, I asked someone if it was Friday yet. Their reply?
"It's only Monday, Brian!"

And your point?

Today I daydreamed of getting in my car and just driving straight to the beach
in California. I'd sit on the sand and watch the ocean. It would be vast and I'd
feel calm. And small. I'd breathe in the salty air and feel the wind and sun on
my face. I'd watch the people around me as they do the things they are doing.

I booked a trip to New York today, but it's not until September and it's only
for the weekend. Doesn't seem long enough.

Gotta save those pennies if I want to go somewhere. Somewhere. (There's a
place for us. I can hear it in my head as I type it.) Anywhere but here.

But I'd still have to come back and go to work. That sucks.

Maybe I should take a day trip. I've only been to Tucson once. It seemed nice.
Laid back. A little funky. Or I could go to Sedona. I was sick and grumpy the
only time I went so I don't remember anything but the teal
arches. I've always wanted to go see Prescott. (That reminds me. I was going
to call D's
ex. He's from there.)

I need to go somewhere soon. Not this weekend. Got stuff to do. But soon.

End of today's babbling.

PS - I added a link to my Blogger profile on the About page.

Comments (0)
Permalink | File Under: Thinking

I started this little old weblog in October of 2001. (Yes, I know the
archives start in November 2001. I deleted the first many posts I published.)
Over the last few years, I have read a lot of bitching and moaning about
Blogger. Some of it may be justified and some of it may just be bellyaching for
the sake of complaining, but I've always stuck with Blogger through thick and
thin. When they launched Blogger Pro, I signed up. When they offered Blog*Spot
Plus, I signed up. Many people have jumped on the Movable Type train. I've
considered it a few times, but it's really not an option for me. It sounds like
a wonderful tool and I'd love to try it out sometime, but I've always been very satisfied
with Blogger.

It's had certain limitations and problems in past, but I never cared about that
stuff. It has always been easy to use (as long as you don't screw up your
template...which I have done a few times) and I admit it...I'm a sucker for the
orange and white B logo. Also, it's always seemed like the underdog in the
blogging world and I love rooting for the underdog.

I really like the changes Blogger made yesterday. (Not too crazy about the
rounded logo, but eh - I'll live.) The interface (or dashboard) has a nice
layout and is super easy to understand and user friendly. I think the community
building aspect is a good step in the right direction. The comments feature is
cool. I know a lot of people will be happy about that one. Although I'll
continue to use my own template and design future ones, I like the new designs
available. Very fresh and funky. Like the Blogger of yore.

Kudos to the gang at Blogger! I think they do an outstanding job. And don't
forget, you can always watch
them hard at work.

Comments (0)
Permalink | File Under: Raving

Last night, I saw a movie with my friend Kooka. Yes, that is her name. Well,
actually it's not. It's a childhood nickname. Her real name is in Hebrew that we
non-Jews have trouble saying because we can't master that throaty gargley sound
that is in so many Hebrew words.

We haven't seen each other for several months so we were catching up and
naturally the subject of my therapy came up. I told her the kinds of things I'd
been discussing lately and the progress I've made so far. She said
something that kind of stopped me in my tracks for a bit.

"You are a good man, Brian."

At first it was odd hearing those words. They just seemed to hang in the air
between us. Don't get me wrong, I know I'm a good man, but I guess I've
always believed no one else really saw it.

One of the things I've realized about myself in therapy is I need to remember
who I am more. For the longest time, I've always claimed I've never really known
who I am. I've never felt like I fit in anywhere or "belonged". I've
always felt misunderstood by others. Like I was some mysterious enigma.

When I told my therapist I didn't feel like I knew my own identity, she called
me on it. "I think you are much more aware of it that you think." She
asked me to start describing myself. I threw out a few words and adjectives.

"You seem to know yourself pretty well," she said.

"Huh. I do, don't I?"

I think for whatever strange reason, I convinced myself that I didn't know who I
was. It
was a story I told myself and eventually believed. I guess another story
I've been telling myself is others don't see me as I see myself. Turns out, I'm
not such a mystery at all. I live my life quite openly and honestly and apparently
people do notice.

As I've become more open talking about what's going on in my life and my therapy
with my friends, I'm discovering that they are in turn more open with me. Over
the past several weeks, I've had some amazing conversations with my friends.
Real heart to hearts. It's been very revealing and honestly, just what I've
needed to hear.

Last month, I started applying to be a volunteer at a local homeless youth
shelter. Part of the extensive application process is to submit four references.
Four of my closest friends sent emails to the volunteer coordinator and carbon
copied me. They all had the nicest things to say and in a few cases, I was
actually surprised by their comments. It was extremely humbling to say the
least.

I highly recommend soliciting that kind of feedback from your loved ones. It
will make your day.

Comments (0)
Permalink | File Under: Depression, Friends, Life

Happy Cinco de Mayo everyone! Since I live near what I'm told is the Scottsdale Barrio, I'm sure the fiestas will be going on all day and into the wee hours of the night. For dinner tonight, I'm going to make my favorite Queso Tortilla soup. The Roommate will be so happy.

I also live near some over-crowded yuppie bars, so I'm also sure I don't want to be on the road at all tonight. St. Patrick's day was enough of a headache.

So, you know how much I like asking the questions. Now is your turn. Inspired by a different Patrick (take a look at that smile!), I present to you: Three Questions. Here is how it goes.

• Anyone and everyone who reads this, gets to ask me three questions. No more. No less.
• Ask me anything you want and I will truthfully answer it*.
• On your blog, copy and paste this allowing your friends (including myself) to ask you anything.

Sounds easy enough, right? Let the question-asking begin!

*Of course, anyone who knows me will tell you that if you ask something completely crass, rude or inappropriate, I will tell you so. Therefore...play
nice.

3 Questions from Hot Toddy:

1. What is your typical reaction when you're angry?

I usually want to clean things when I'm mad. I go through things and throw shit away or clean the kitchen or something. According to the evidence in my house, I'm not angry very often.

2. What is the bravest thing you've ever done?

Good question. Hmmm. A lot of the things I'd consider brave don't seem such a big deal in retrospect. I think moving 1000 miles to a city I had never been to was sort of brave, but now it doesn't seem like such a big deal. There was one time, when I was a teenager, I stood up to my alcoholic father during one of his abusive fits. I was able to calm him down while standing my ground. I suppose that was pretty brave of me at the time.

3. Is there a song that makes you cry?

Not really. I'm not much of a crier. However, the "I'll Cover You - Reprise" from Rent always makes me well up a bit.

3 Questions from Patrick:

1. Why do you blog?

I've never really thought about it in depth too much, so honestly I don't really know the reason. I suppose I blog for the same reason I think most people do: I think I have something interesting to say and assume there are people who are interested in hearing it. I guess it also serves as an outlet for my creative side.

2. What is your greatest accomplishment?

Surviving a childhood full of trauma, abuse and emotional neglect. I never really thought about that as much of an accomplishment until very recently, but in retrospect I have to admit it is somewhat remarkable that I made it through that without doing serious damage to myself or someone else.

3. Have you ever not forgiven someone for something they have done, and if so, what did they do?

I'm a pretty forgiving person, so nothing comes immediately to mind. I am however extremely hard on myself when I make what I think are stupid mistakes and I have to remind myself to learn from them and move on.

3 Questions from Crash:

1. What's your earliest memory?

I don't have a lot of clear memories before the age of six, but my earliest vague memory is when I was five. My cousin and I went to the same kindergarten, however I went in the morning and he went in the afternoon. One day, they combined the morning and afternoon classes for a field trip. I don't remember the trip itself. My memory is of the two of us alone on the school bus waiting for our grandmother to pick us up. We were sharing a Ziploc bag of Vienna Fingers (they only made one kind back then). Our Grandmother arrived and we got off the bus to go to her car. It was an overcast afternoon.

2. What is your most prized possession?

I don't usually become attached to material things. I throw stuff out and donate boxes of things to thrift stores all the time. One constant I have is a box full of various mementos, scattered photos, ticket stubs, some childhood drawings, correspondence, etc. I keep cards and letters that I want to remember later in life. Sometimes I even print out emails from special people to keep in there. I guess that box would be my most prized possession. About twice a year, I open it and sift through its contents, strolling down memory lane, remembering good times old friends and reaffirming how much I adore my current ones.

3. What animal do you think you're most similar to?

Probably a house cat. It's all about sleep, food and going to the bathroom for me.

3 Questions from Robbie:

1. Who is the one person you look up to the most?

My friend Micheale. She is just an incredible person and I feel very lucky to know her. She is one of the most intelligent people I know. She is also one of the most warm and open.

2. Recite a favorite lyric from a song you like. What about that lyric/phrase makes it a favorite?

I don't know if I have a favorite but my current haunting lyric is from Ani DiFranco's Slide:

she was bending like something brittle, trying hard to bend she was numb with the terror of losing her best friend we never see things changing, we only see them ending

This lyric speaks such truth and is applicable to some relationships in my life.

3. And lastly, how many licks does it really take to get to the tootsie roll center of a Tootsie Roll pop?

Let's find out (unwraps it and licks it once) One ... (twice) Ta-whoooo [two] ... (bites into it) three... ahem... three.

3 Questions from Homer:

1. How many times have you been in love?

None. (More on that another day.)

2. If you could relive one moment, what would it be?

Damn Homer. That's a tough one. Hmmm. (thinking) About four years ago, when I was volunteering at the local GLBT Community Center, this guy came in. He was from California and lived in his van. He was traveling across country to Maine (I think) and just stopping at various places along the way and working odd jobs until he had enough money to go to the next place. I gave him the usual tour of the facilities. Afterwards, we ended up talking for the next three hours about music, art, life, etc. It was one of those rare instances where you instantly click with someone and feel like you've known them for years. A friend of mine was leaving to move to Seattle the next morning and I asked him if he wanted to go to her going away party. I gave him directions and he said he'd think about it. He showed up that evening and we had more conversations. He was one of the most free-spirited, genuinely happy people I had ever met. He stayed in Phoenix for a while and we hung out from time to time. Months later, I discovered he was a total selfish ass and I haven't heard from him since, but I will never forget those first few weeks I knew him. His newness and energy in turn made me feel new and alive in a way I never had before. It was somewhat magical. His passion for life is something I strive to attain daily today.

3. Alcohol or chocolate?

Hands down, no questions, the answer is absolutely chocolate!

3 Questions from Sam:

1. Name something that happened that changed your outlook or view of a particular situation.

Over the holidays my mother was visiting me from out of state. Over the last several years, we have drifted apart, mostly I feel because she knows I am gay. I decided to take this time together as an opportunity to try to reconnect with her. When I tried to talk to her about how I feel about our relationship and her comfort level with me being gay, she got very upset and told me all her life she has suppressed her emotions and she doesn't know what to do with them. She then told me she wants to keep suppressing them. It was at that moment that I realized my mother's issues go way beyond me. In fact, they have very little to do with me at all. Ever since then I've sort of pitied her. Her world must be very sad and lonely.

2. How much money would you have to be paid to kill a puppy?

I honestly can't fathom killing a puppy. I'm sitting here trying to honestly think of a figure, but I keep seeing big, sad puppy eyes instead.

3. Name something you did that really hurt someone else.

Gosh Sam! You don't let up with the hard questions, do you? :-)

The summer before my senior year in college, I was really angry at a close friend. I honestly can tell you why I was. I don't think I had a legitimate reason. I think I was just mad for some reason. He knew I was avoiding him and giving him the cold shoulder, but he always treated me the same. I think he knew I had no reason to be such a jerk, so he wasn't going to play my game. One day I ran into him as I was coming out of building. He tried to talk to me and I was my usual grumpy self. He kept egging me on, telling me jokes, trying to get me to laugh or smile. It was working. I was pissed off that it was working, so I punched him. I had never hit anyone in my life. It was completely unexpected and he was shocked. I remember the way he looked at me with such disbelief and hurt. I was hot with stupid anger, but mostly embarrassment for letting myself get so out of control over absolutely nothing. I stormed off and went home. It was the only time I raised my fist to anyone.

Comments (9)
Permalink | File Under: Blogging

Sure people bitch about their privacy concerns, however as a FOJ (Friend of Jews) and an Honorary Jewish Lesbian, I feel it's my duty to point out the following.

When sending an email to my favorite New York Jewesses, I was surprised to find that Gmail's spell check didn't recognize the following words.

- Rosh Hashanah
- Yom Kippur
- latkes

Where is the uproar about this?

UPDATE: Now I'm convinced something is going on. These words aren't in Blogger's dictionary either.

Oy vey!

Comments (0)
Permalink | File Under: Blogging, Ranting

1. I truly believe belly shirts don't look good on people with bellies.

2. You will never see me in a belly shirt.

3. I used to be quite outdoorsy. Now I'm pretty indoorsy. I don't think that's
good.

4. I watch less television than I used to. I do think that is a good thing.

5. I've been known to say dorky rhyming things like "awesome blossom" and
"later gator".

6. I don't wear a watch. I also don't wear necklaces, bracelets, rings and have
no piercing. Basically I am unornamented.

7. One of my favorite books is The Accidental Tourist.

8. At one time in my life, I joked my four basic food groups were nicotine, caffeine,
sugar and chocolate. Now I don't smoke or drink soda and I've cut way back on
sugar. I think my current four basic food groups are water, prescription
medication, vitamins and supplements.

9. I don't remember exactly when I quit smoking. I figured out the less I
concentrated on the act of quitting the easier it became to quit.

10. I suck at learning languages.

11. I love to people watch.

12. I love gray, overcast, cool days which are rare in the Valley of the Sun.

13. I am a bit pee shy.

14. My favorite blaxploitation movie is Disco Godfather.

15. I love that the word blaxploitation is in the dictionary.

16. I'm not much of a joiner.

17. I'm extremely cynical, but in a good way.

18. I've only had surgery once in my life to have my appendix removed. After the
surgeon removed it, they discovered I never had appendicitis, only the symptoms
that accompany it.

19. For two years I worked a night job from 10 pm until the sun came up. It was
one of the most miserable experiences of my life.

20. Despite myself, I am becoming a Morning Person.

21. I love movies about girls who learn a lesson and superheroes.

22. I also love movies made in Australia.

23. I don't toss around words like "blessed" lightly. I feel truly
blessed to have certain people in my life and consider their friendships true
gifts.

24. I'd be happy if I could only wear jeans the rest of my life. (with a
shirt obviously, gutter mind!)

25. I believe everyone has a story to tell.

Woo-hoo! Only twenty-five more to go!

Comments (4)
Permalink | File Under: Lists

Last night, The Roommate and I went to see Ben Kweller who opened for Death Cab For Cutie. I love, love, love live music but I hate, hate, hate the experience that goes with it.

Of course when we ordered our tickets, we were charged about twenty bucks in service charges and
miscellaneous fees. We intended on picking up our tickets at Will Call, but for
some reason had to pay a "handling fee". Go figure. And naturally since they
have the only lot any where near the venue, they charged to park there.

Sign of Aging #1. Bitching about exorbitant fees.
Sign of Aging #2. Bitching about parking.

Walking to the front door, I noticed that aside from the cop on duty, we were the oldest people in line. Two of my least favorite words: All Ages. Once inside, I saw a few people older, however we were the oldest people not
accompanying their children.

Sign of Aging #3. Realizing you are the oldest person in a crowd.

Entering the venue was a chore as well. There was a boy's line and a girl's line. In the girl's line, The Roommate had her purse searched. In my line, I not only had to empty my pockets and disclose their contents,
but also get frisked...twice.

Sign of Aging #4. That uncomfortable feeling that comes with being frisked by a twenty-two year old with a bad hair cut.

The venue was one of those giant floors without any seats, so that meant standing a lot. The Roommate wore the wrong shoes and well...I'm just old and so is my body, so standing for many hours started hurting my back.

Sign of Aging #5. Bitching about your back and/or feet hurting.

The venue was in desperate need of air conditioning...something I consider to be a sin of great proportions in the desert. My guess is since it was an All Ages show, they kept it
hot so all the tweens and such would pop down their allowance on the highly over-priced bottles of water.

Sign of Aging #6. Bitching about it being too hot.

BK was awesome. He is a great performer, but the show was TOO FUCKING LOUD. Towards the end of his set, I thought my ears were bleeding from the piercing volume.
No, Not bleeding, just sweat dripping onto my ears.

Sign of Aging #7. Bitching about music being too loud.

I am seriously going to have to reconsider my next concert going experience before deciding to go. Maybe some nice folky lesbians will be better for this grumpy old man.

Comments (8)
Permalink | File Under: Music, Ranting