Boys Behaving Badly

Boys are just like little girls when it comes to handling their problems. What was supposed to be a "guys night" among me and the housemates quickly became awkward and filled to the brim with no conversation. The silent treatment ran rampant. And I had nothing to do with it. It's odd when the homo out of six guys is the least dramatic one. Think on that. Boys behave just as badly, just as catty, and just as passive aggressive as girls. They don't share well. They don't communicate well. They don't play nice. They don't forgive. They overreact. They're selfish. And they roll their eyes in ways that would put Regina George to shame. It's enough to make a boy straight. Oh! They also care about fashion just as much as girls, or gays, but it's just a different kind of fashion. Football fashion. Jerseys. They, and I saw this first hand, will TiVo pause the game to check out a teams new jersey design. Then discuss it for several minutes. No joke. Next time I get criticized for commenting on the new stuff at Macys, I'm totally bringing that up and throwing it in their face. See we behave just like girls. We just don't talk about it. Because we don't communicate. Because we don't show emotions. Because we're stupid. Which makes us behave badly. So we end up behaving like little girls.....

I Just Can't

I can't cry. I won't allow it. Sure, I've got some reasons for it. For both the action and the mentality of not allowing it. But that's not important. Tonight, or rather this morning, the important thing is that sometimes we meet people who are cryable. A person who you would openly, freely and deeply cry to. Whether it be their hat, their glasses, the smell of their cardigan, or maybe just their goofy smile. Whatever it is, they have something that makes you deem them cryable. Sometimes I meet a boy who I just want to collapse into and cry on until I fall asleep. And then we can just sit there, with him holding me and me content and exhausted from finally having a boy to cry to. The kicker, and it really is a good one, I promise, is that these boys never know I have deemed them cryable. And I will never tell them. I just can't. So, those who I consider cryable, end up becoming another reason to shed a tear. Maybe that's the kicker...

I dunno

Either way, I'm getting kicked.

Strum It Again Tom Dumont

Christmas in Chicago was lovely. Wish I hadn't had to drive through so much snow to get back up here. I have to admit though, when I turned that corner on the highway and saw the skyline...I sighed. Like when you see an old friend. Or a cute puppy. Or a cute guy. It's great to be back. But it was also great to visit my family. I got a guitar for a present. I'm really excited, it can help with all the songwriting stuff. I just have to learn how to play it first...hmmmm. I'll just google search it. I still need to see Sherlock Holmes. Haven't gotten around to doing that just yet. A certain someone is still down south. And a promise is a promise. I can wait....I'll just strum my guitar.

On Thin Ice

So, obviously, something terrible happened at work today. Some woman was crazy. Some man got angry for no reason. Some child wanted to cry until it got it's way. My break was delayed. My lunch was cut short. The usual. But I don't want to write about that. Here are the three things that happened that are as close to "good" as it gets at my job these days:

First Event- woman tried to sell me her three (ridiculously cute and awesome) little boys today because they were being too enthusiastic about Christmas.
My Reaction- at least you have kids who are energetic and imaginative and adorable. at least you have kids in general.

Second Event- lady complaining that her boyfriend is too hard to shop for
My Reaction- (which should be assumed) at least you have a boy to shop for.

Third Event- i had a really good cheeseburger at lunch
My Reaction- it was really good

Yes, one of the highlights of the day was a good sammich...the word you are looking for is "whoa". And now the housemates want to go ice skating downtown, but I don't think my little, single heart could bare something so blatantly designed for happy couples. It's already on thin ice, has been this whole friggin season, I think that would make me slip and crack up. So...I'm not to sure what I'll be doing tonight.

Ponder Wonder Blunder

Heart Beats, Hard Beats, Heart Fulfilled

Wow wow wow. Last night was killer. So much fun. Met so many new people. Made some friends. Got some free beers. Played cupid to some new found friends of mine. Did stand up comedy. Found out I LOVE Long Island Ice Teas. Oh, and Sex On The Beach. Also delicious. Was gifted a four dollar ugly winter hat by a boy named Matt because it looked better on me and I made sure Ashley went home with him. Got me and the housemates free passes to our local gym, because yes!, I am that amazing. Hugged a drunk brunette girl. Flirted with a hot blonde boy. And sat on Santa's lap. Was tour guide to the restrooms, and made sure everyone had a ride home. Had a conversation with a boy from Alabama, who bought me a beer because I'm the coolest non-gay-gay he has ever met. Did the catwalk down the bar with Nico. Recognized a bar back who use to be a dancer, who use to hit on me while we was dancing. Slid down the street like a penguin. Ran through snowbanks like an idiot. Helped a boy beatbox because I can lay a sick beat. Did you know I could do that? I didn't know I could do that. I'm full of hard beats. Pretended to be a doorman outside one of the bars I was at. Got a zillion hugs. And plenty of drunken heart to drunken heart conversations. I heart my housemates. I heart all my new found friends. I heart this city. And I heart my life.

Oh, and the thirteen hour work day wasn't nearly as bad as predicted. Totally made it through.

I know I don't really do color photos, but you have to appreciate the awesomeness of this ugly hat. For reals.

Heart To Heart

Got sent home early from work today because if I stayed I would have been in overtime hours. Yahtzee!!! Not only does that mean I now have an open evening, but I also can afford to go out and live it up. I had no idea I was so close to forty hours this week, I'm not surprised at all though. My heart beats can be measured in price sales. It's ridiculous. I did have a wonderful heart to heart with a customer who also works retail. I had to bite my tongue to the point of bleeding because a woman at another register was yelling at a coworker of mine. So instead of having to be removed by mall security, I just kept my mouth shut. However I couldn't keep from throwing the clothes at my register around. So then I had to apologize to my customer, which is when she revealed that me and her are part of the same secret society. The Scorned Retail Covenant. She even offered to say something to the bitch customer because she knew I couldn't. She was a real sweetheart. We talked about how all our friends think we are scrooges because we don't like the holidays, but it's impossible to like them when you work retail. You don't countdown until they arrive, you countdown until they are over. I almost undercharged her just because she was so awesome. So having ended my shift with her, and now knowing that I get to have some fun tonight, my night is looking up. Although tomorrow I have thirteen hour day, so that sucks. Yes, thirteen.You read that correctly. Gotta make that money.

Now I'm off to the bar, to hopefully have some more heart to hearts with friends and possibly, cute strangers.

You Are The Most Important

Dear ________,

You are the most important person I have ever met, so please have no patience, mercy or understanding when it comes to me. I have no problem with the fact that you are tapping your finger on my counter, rolling your eyes at my conversation engaging questions, or scoffing when I tell you are bags are not free. You have my sincerest apologies for not having cut down the tree personally so you can throw your on-sale-for-twelve-dollars sweater into it, seriously though, my bad. And how dare I try to brighten your day with friendly chit chat, shame on me, please feel free to stab me in the tongue with one of several pens you keep in your over sized purse. And, while you're at it, throw your credit cards towards me with speeds that could break the sound barrier, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. Oh, and if you are on the phone, please do not hang up on my account, for anything do the opposite. Talk louder and wave me off with your hand when I try to make sure you found everything you were looking for. Oh and whatever you do, please please please, and I can not stress this one enough, do not check the expiration dates on your coupons; obviously we print those numbers just because we have numerical OCD and we get off on that kind of thing.

Sincerely,
The Guy That Rang You Up


I would just like to say that it just isn't the "Me Generation" that are selfish, self absorbed, self centered dodo heads. It's everyone. Young, old, new, retired. Being an asshole is not age nor generation discriminate. Everyone can participate in this movement...and everyone does.

"""So I wrote everything above this line before being requested to go out tonight, everything that follows is post fun-stimulating-entertaining-evening"""

Like I said, I was requested to go out tonight. Try as I might, I can't seem to say no to spending money when I know it's going to equal great conversations, amazing times, and much needed mass amounts of laughing. And tonight was just that. It was especially great because it was with newer friends and tonight was one of those nights when I just needed to be with people I care for and laugh until my tummy hurt, and they made sure that happened. I was called upon my one of my new girlies, to come meet her and her boyfriend and one of her roommates down at Fridays for drinks and dinner. By the way, I could live off of California Club sammichs, edible perfection! So I walked down to meet them and then we went back to her boyfriends apartment and we watched Star Trek. Which has amazing visual effects, and Chris Pine. Once again, edible perfection. And then we just sat on the couch, us four, four over an hour just laughing and talking and bonding. It was just what my fictional doctor ordered for me. Sometimes I was laughing so hard I was crying, other times I almost cried because we were talking so seriously, and sometimes I wanted to cry because I was so happy. Nights like this remind me of what is really important in life. Things get better, for as much as they get worse.

Nice To Meet You

I did most of my Christmas shopping today, cut checks for house bills, and did grocery shopping. I have no money. None. And I just had a payday.


Dear Money,
It was very nice meeting, I hope you enjoyed your stay. I wish you the best of luck in your next venture.

Sincerely,
Me

I'm ready to start auctioning off internal organs on Craigslist just to make ends meet. Yikes. Oh well, what can you do. You just keep running, hoping that you stay ahead of everything chasing you down.

It Would Be So Nice....

Holiday!

It would be so nice.

I don't like the Holidays anymore. It just means that people act dumber, become meaner, and behave even worse then usual. I know I'm at an unfair advantage due to the fact that I'm involved in the retail world, but I think it might be a universal thing. Today was uniquely bad at work because the whole day was a one long sneak attack. I went in this afternoon, on my day off(mistake number one), to change my availability...and somehow I left ten hours later. They cornered me in the back room and told me they needed help, so I said yes(mistake number two). But it wasn't all bad because one of my housemates was also working and I was on register the whole time and I had Panera on my dinner break. So it was delicious. And I found out that the new hires fear me, as they rightly should, because I know everything and am considered management. I yelled at two of them today for not doing anything but standing around, and later that night while I was eating my dinner they came and apologized to me. Is it wrong if I found this almost as delicious as my sammich? Nah, I don't think so. The only downside was that I didn't get to accomplish all the errands I was supposed to get down today, but I made money. So it all balances out. I just really wish sometime soon I have time to actually enjoy this stupid season. I'm getting tired of spinning out on the road, slipping on black ice, putting of with morons on the daily and having dry hands because it's so cold. I need a holiday. A real holiday, preferably one that isn't scheduled around common, nationally recognized holidays. I want my own holiday. And I want a beach. And I want my own beach. And if this guy was there, well, I'd have no complaints.

It would be so nice.

Chat Noir

The mall I work in today had adopt-a-cat tables in the middle of it all afternoon...I can not begin to describe how difficult it was for me to not take one home with me. Of course it would have to be black. I'm partial to all feline friends, but black cats are my blood. They are the most mysterious and alluring animal I've ever encountered. I'm drawn to them. I don't know why, it's long and detailed. I've explained it before, and people get it then, but it doesn't translate very well via words. It's a conversation that merits arm motions and facial expressions. So, basically, an Italian conversation. Speaking of which, I almost had to break a mans knee caps today at work due to the fact that he was being an enormous asshole. He had my manager in tears, and was being so disrespectful that I was about to lean across the check out counter and punch this bastard out. He wasn't even in the right, he was just another idiot who wanted to cheat the system and get his own way and decided that while attempting to do so he would be as obnoxious as possible. I don't care who you are or where you come from, sometimes the only thing that is going to put you in your place is a good ass kicking. Maybe while you are laid out on the floor bleeding you can reconsider your life and your attitude. If there hadn't been small children around or within hearing distance, I would have done it. And I would have gotten away with it. So not only do I get points for not buying a kitten, I also get points for not doing some social justice. Oh! Speaking of that, me and the guys saw "Law Abiding Citizen" at the cheapy theater yesterday, sick movie!!! Awesome and thrilling, makes you sweat in your seat. It was really good. And I liked the message it had. It was friggin good. So after working nine and half hours, and staying late to fix a problem with the drawers, I came home and kicked off my shoes, curled up on the couch and watched old episodes of ALIAS.
In my friggin dreams!
I unloaded the dish washer and then emptied the sink and did the dishes that were sitting in it.
I then cleaned all the counters in the kitchen.
Gathered up all the recycling and took it outside.
Wiped down the table and cleaned it off.
Got the mail.
Took the pup out.
Scrubbed the counters and the stove top.
Took out the garbage and put a new bag in it.
Cleaned up the bathroom.
Created a wall in the bathroom (no other way to really described it)
Hung up a new lamp in the bathroom.
And I still have to shave and shower.
I was hoping to work out....but it looks like I'll do chin ups at the very most.

Or at the very most, keep my chin up. Get it? See what I did there? Eh, eh, kinda funny, right?

...

I need sleep

Where Art Thou Cardio

With my free seven days at the gym up, and several winter blizzards on their way, it seems like my daily cardio activities will have to be put on hold. Which, I fear, will make me go even more insane. I've come to rely on my post-cardio-endorphin rush to help me through my daily activities, and now I don't know what to replace it with. I suppose jumping jacks in the basement could suffice, or perhaps I could find a really big hamster wheel. I can't even take the pup for a walk because the weather, and the pup for that matter, aren't cooperating. I don't like the idea of having to hibernate my work outs, seems so counterproductive. I just spent the last week running, and ellipticaling, and suanaing myself back to my target body and now it seems like it was all for nothing. Sure I'm way more toned and ribby then I was before, and I have more energy and focus then before, and I feel great; but it's all hidden beneath coats and sweaters and I have a sweat breakout so I technically don't even "look" my best. That's the constant battle with working out: making sure your skin cooperates. The cycle goes like this: feel bad about self, work self out, sweat, look better, feel better about self, keep working out, get sweat blemish, feel bad about self, stop work out, feel bad about self....See my point. For now I can just not shave and hide it under some scruffy. I can getaway with that look for a few days. Having pent up energy made me clean my room, and I found all sorts of things I forgot about. That was cool. I caught up on my reading, for a little bit, reading really isn't a cardio replacement activity. Read the city newspaper and decided to try and make "page six" sometime soon-ish. Decided to try and get a job at Macy's, or at least a more high end retail store, because where I'm at now is getting slightly dull. Checked my bank account three times hoping somehow the numbers would go up, but they didn't. Where art thou money-o? Another question that plagueth me so. Remembered how cool Shakespeare can be. How timeless "To Catch A Thief" is. And how yummy Junior Mints are. I also have hardcore sushi cravings, but have refrained due to the severe lack of money. It'll just be that much more satisfying once I can afford some. Now I'm making a mental list of everything I have to do before leaving for work in the morning. First of which is turn on the coffee pot. If I can't count on my endorphins, I'll have to make due with my Maxwell House.

Welcome To Sunnydale...

watch out for the vampires and the monsters. Does anyone remember Buffy? Or the fact that she kind of started the current "vampire craze" that is sweeping across America? She started it, she owned it, and she did it better then anyone else, now or in the future, end of story. The best thing about Buffy was the fact that it wasn't about vampires really, it was about growing up and having to deal with the daily demons and monsters that we have to face. Having to put up with the things that want to suck the life out of us. And having to do battle just to make it to the end of the day. Her high school was on the HellMouth, most of us thought high school was hell. She had strained relationships with her parents, most of us have/had strained relationships with our parents. She knew how to look good, kick ass, and protect who/what she loved. I strive to do that as well. She had a bad habit of falling for the bad guy....I also have that bad habit. The show meant something because it was true to life, sort of; you just have to learn to see the supernatural for the metaphors that they are. Did any of us really have to miss fifth period science to slay a vampire? I think not. But, sometimes we had to miss fourth period math class to make sure our best friend wasn't going suicidal. Did we not do homework because we had to patrol the graveyard and look out for three horned monsters? No, but sometimes we have to cook dinner, instead of typing a useless paper, to make sure our friends know that they are cared for and valued. Some would say that she isn't a good person to look up to, but she stands for good things. A few of the true to life lessons that I got from Buffy: life doesn't go as planned, it's not a screw up if you end up saving someones life, the popular kids are demons, protect what you love, and never stop fighting. Maybe my last name should have been Summers.

I Would've Snuggled...

I would've snuggled on the couch all day with my boyfriend...but certain parts of that sentence are missing. Mainly, the boyfriend part. I did however spend the day on the couch. My morning started with the pup scratching at my door to come and crawl into bed with me because her daddies had to go to work. So since she knows I'm a sucker and will do whatever she wants me to do, she howled until I got out of bed and opened my door for her. She then proceeded to not only crawl on top of my bed and snuggle with me, but she actually nosed her way underneath my covers and took over the my entire mattress. But, like I said, I love her and it really didn't bother me at all. She's too adorable to ever stay mad at. It did however jump start my morning, a little earlier then I would have liked. I needed to sleep off last night a little longer. So I gave the pup my bed and moved my way to the couch. I chose something off the TiVo menu and then fell asleep again. I was woken up when my housemates started to move around the house, and then decided I would spend my day off from work on the couch. I did however walk my skinny ass to the gym...only to be denied. What kind of gym closes at three pm on a Saturday?! Freaks...so I did get some cardio today, just not the kind I wanted. When I got back to the house, I settled again on the couch, soon to be joined by the pup. The house was cold, but the couch and blankets were warm, snow was coming down outside and it would have been perfect had I someone to share the couch with. The pup was a decent stand in though. So now I'm showered and getting dressed to go out, I figure I have to do some kind of social interaction today. Plus the housemates have taken over the couch to play XBox. Not sure how to dress tonight, I think we are walking so I should wear a coat, but I can't pay for coat check. Technically, I can't pay for anything, but someone is paying my cover charges and if I really want a drink I'm sure I can somehow get one without using my monies. They say a smile is a currency understood by all...actually I just made that up, but it sounded good. I had moments like that last night too, when I said something HBO script worthy. I swear, I'm like a writers room think tank packed into a 5'9'' frame. Then again, I might be biased; plus, if I was as witty as I think I am, I'm sure someone cute would have noticed by now.

I Love Gym

Having reviewed my last post and seeing how long and drawn out it is, I'm keeping this one ridiculously brief. I have a one week free membership to a gym that is within walking distance. I started it today. I was on the elliptical machine for about three hours. I love life...post work out. I love gym. Me be there always. Yes please.


Oh! first time in a legit sauna. I know now what baked ziti feels like, yikes!

And---I saw the new Kings of Leon video for the first time, it was playing on the tv...that was built into the elliptical, auhmazing! The cuddly sexy teddy bear in the picture is the lead singer of the very very very talented band.

Not That F Word - -or- - I Hate The Word Fabulous

When it comes to relationships there are two kinds of F words when you first start out: future and fun. When you look at someone you can, usually, decide within the first four minutes whether or not you and this person are going to have a future, or if you are going to have fun. Futures are the ones that stay around for a long time, cuddle with you, help you put your coat on and rub your shoulders. The fun ones are the ones you store in your phone under nick names in case someone sees them calling you. If you keep a fun one around longer then you would keep a stack of deli meat, well, it's probably going to spoil on you. The taste fades and you grow sick of having it three times a day. The fun ones are never a problem if you see them again, you just smile and say hi and then keep walking; making sure they get a look at everything that they don't get anymore. Future ones are the ones that you hate bumping into again, the ones that you dive into rose bushes to avoid, jump fences to not make eye contact with and hide in the bathroom to escape from. The future ones, are, the ones that you wanted to build a life with, the ones you had the real conversations with, the ones that you kissed on the nose before you kissed on the lips. And every time a future one breaks your heart, or you see them again, or even think about them again, that's when a tiny part of you commits suicide. It feels like a tiny piece of your heart folds in on itself and stops pumping. Or a little chunk breaks off, jumps, and crashes into pieces underneath your feet. The future ones are the ones that keep you staring at the ceiling asking all those BIG scary questions after they leave you. The last time I had a future one was this time last year, and I'm still staring at the ceiling sometimes. You try to forget, but how can you forget your future? Not only has the future one been on my brain lately, but just my future in general. I keep being perceived as a flake, or as an accessory, or as a quitter or (the worst) just a stereotype. I explain everything I'm doing in my head, I make a case for my actions to the voices in my brain, and I list of my reasoning to God: but no one around my hears any of it. I'm tired of explaining everything, I'm tired of repeating everything, I'm exhausted from doing the same battles over and over again. I do what I want, it's true. I do what I want because I am the only person who knows what is best for me. I don't want to learn from anyone's mistakes but my own. I don't want to pick up where someone else left off. I don't want to take the road someone else wished they had walked. And I really don't want everyone's friggin opinion sometimes. All the things I'm good at, all the things I exceed at, I'm not supposed to. All the things I am supposed to be doing I can't stand. All the things I'm supposed to know, all the facts, all the preconceived notions, all the labels, and all the traits I can't fucking stand. Gay men are not Prada bags, or this seasons must have item, they are more then walking witty one liners, they are more then sex stories and sarcasm, they are more then bad romance and Cosmos. They can be so so so much more. They can be better then heteros. They can be smarter, they can be more intelligent. Gay men are more then just "fabulous". The scary part is not coming out of the closet, the scary part is being bold enough to be a real person and not a shiny, sparkly fag. That's the scary part. So shame on all the gay guys who are too scared to do anything else. You are all fucking pathetic. I'm doomed. The ones that I could have fun with make me want to punch them in the face until they bleed. The ones that I could have a future with are too worried about being fabulous. So that leaves me bitter and with strong urges to get in bar fights. If anyone ever thought it was easy or "fun" to be gay, they should be shot in the face and then ran over with a car and then killed again. But in a way that was featured in the Saw movies. It's not easy at all, and most days it's not even fun. It's depressing. What little hope of having a stable relationship that has a future gets killed on the daily due to continued stereotypes and assumptions. The quiet gay, which is what I consider myself, walk amongst people who have the opportunity to for stability and someone to come home to, but instead chose to focus on careers and putting their dicks into has many holes as possible. Single straight men don't realize how many opportunities are around them and instead chose to be scared and just get laid. Straight single women are all worried about their weight and are far too passive to ever get results of any kind. Single gay men are whores who don't make decisions unless E! Entertainment tells them to, oh and they are all whores. Did I say that already? Single gay females are the smartest when it comes to relationships. If you disagree with me, you're wrong. I see this everywhere, all day, every day. I watch. I observe. I listen. I read. And I read between the lines. If you think I'm wrong, you're stupid. People love telling gay guys their secrets, and I'm a gay guy. So I hear all the petty complaints from my straight friends, both genders included. And I hear about all the cardboard cut outs from my gay friends. I sallow blood on the daily because I want so fucking badly to yell and scream and demand that everyone just get their shit together and realize how lucky they are to even have someone to go to the movies with. Even with not having been in a serious relationship for over a year, I can still tell you the secret to making one work: fighting. You have to fight to make it work, you have to fight to make the person know you love them, you have to fight to protect it, to save it and to keep it. No one wants to fight anymore, every ones to busy being fabulous. God, I hate that word.

Stolen Goods

Earlier tonight one of my good friends confessed to stealing thousands of dollars via shoplifting when we were all in high school. I find this outrageously juicy and entertaining. It sort of makes me feel more human in a way. I always thought I was the only one hiding some very scandalous secrets and doing some dangerous behaviors, but it turns out we were all acting like criminals. I think we all steal things in one way or another. Whether we steal moments by not fully participating in them, or by robbing each other of the opportunities to help one another. Unfortunately we don't get to look as dashing as Cary Grant in To Catch A Thief, the lack of fashion and glamor makes it all seem a lot more common. I think we steal more then we realize: music, coffee refills, silver ware from IHOP. Alright, maybe the last one is just me, but still, you know what I mean. But there are also things we steal in a metaphoric sense, like minutes and moments and entire chunks of life. It's easy to say that certain people have stolen chunks of my life away from me, but that sounds so pathetic. It's just odd to realize that someone only thought of you as a shiny diamond to snatch, and not a trusty watch to wear on the daily. You end up feeling robbed, as if they stole a couple months of your life. Which is ironic to me because I always wanted a guy to steal me away from everything, but not in the hostage kind of way. These days, I go back and forth between wanting to be stolen away and wanting to be left along in my display case. Silently working on becoming more shiny in hopes to become a long lasting time piece.

why do queers always go for the diamonds...they're friggin stupid.

three days till Black Friday

oh, and I stole this picture from The Sartorialist. I wouldn't mind him stealing me.

Que Sera Sera

So I have the best friends in the world. My old friends came to visit me this weekend. My new friends came out and partied with us. My work friends covered for me so that I could have time to go out. My housemate friends came out and partied with us too! I am blessed when it comes to having friends, because you do get to pick those...and for some reason all the cool kids picked me. I have no complaints whatsofrigginever. All I wish is that I could see them all more often. It had been such a long time I sort of forgot their faces, sort of. I knew what they looked like and I can pull up their pictures on FaceBook and I can check my phone, but when you don't see someone for a while you forget the laugh lines around their eyes, and their nose wrinkle when they smile and their shoulder when you haven't leaned on it for a while. I forgot things like that, and that makes me sad. My brain does this thing, this thing where it won't let me remember or think about the fact that I miss my friends and the other places I lived so so much, because it wouldn't be productive and it wouldn't help in my continuation in life. So ninety percent of the time I don't think about all those things, but now that I saw them in person, and now that they left....now I'm in the middle of the other ten percent. Funny how big that ten percent can seem sometimes. I'm in the epicenter of a "what could have happened" earthquake. No one really knows what life would have turned out like, had we taken a different route. Had we stayed or left. But thinking about all of that, well, it's no good. What happens, is exactly what is supposed to happen. And there is really nothing any of us can do about it. You make the very most of the pieces that are in front of you, and you build a life. And you cross yourself for every good fortune and great friend you have...and you never take it for granted.

A Differnt Kind of Italian Revolution

So my iTunes has decided to no longer work on my piece of shit lap top. An error message appears whenever I try to open it up. I have loaded the most recent version three times. Backed up all my music files, wiped it from my hard drive, reloaded the brand new version and still get the same error message. Luckily my iPod can still charge, because a life with out music is barely worth getting out of bed for. I've been very loyal to some YouTube music channels so I have back ground music while I cook. Have you heard the song "Alejandro" from Lady Gaga yet? Friggin beautiful. And I've also been falling in love with the classics from Rosemary Clooney. Who wouldn't want to come to her house? The strange Madonna version from "Swept Away" is entertaining, sort of. The man is gorgeous. I digress. The point is that without iTunes I've sort of had a metaphorical revelation. If you don't have a beat to step to, you walk wrong. When I first came up to this city, I did my best to be well behaved, play nice with everyone, be demure and Midwestern, stay quiet and basically act as "white" as possible. This past weekend everything just changed, I might be surrounded by pleasant Dutch people but I am far from them. So now, I am walking a little closer to my boot-shaped-country roots. Everyone around is slowly adjusting, but they'll get over it. Besides, they got free pizza and cooking out of it, how upset could they be? I am diving into Italian heritage once again with full force. It's just so natural, I talk different now because I don't think my sentence in my head before saying it. I did that for like fourteen years, it's exhausting. I speak freely, when I want to and with out reservations. I sit a little differently, actually taking up space in the room. I made a habit out of being invisible for so long, I'm done with that. I carry myself a little different too, but it's just due to the confidence. And the home made pasta dishes. And the work outs. And the reading. Life has a whole new rhythm: joyfulness, freedom, attitude, passion, heart and Mambo Italiano beats. And of course, Italian Charm. So really nothing has changed, everything just became different...but I think it's all for the best. I'm back to being your Italian boy.

Talk The Talk

So this is what's happened since Friday:

Friday-
-go to a huge wine tasting expo with 1 out of 6 housemates and his girlfriend
-get hella tipsy at said expo
-walk to Ritz Coney to grab a hotdog
-make fun of people who wait in line to get into bars
-thank God for having friends who have VIP status
-get picked up by another housemate who drives all three of us back to the house
-realize that it is only ten thirty pm
-put cash in pocket and walk down to my bar for some Bud Lights
-get to bar and behave by not talking to anyone but the doorman and the bartender
-laugh on the inside because both men know my name
-stare at music videos on the screen and avoid eye contact
-walk back to the house and crawl in bed
Saturday-
-get up and go to work
-dress like a Ralph Lauren ad to make up for still being a little tipsy
-look good at work and have a successful day
-go directly to bar from work, do not collect two hundred dollars
-encourage housemate on first night of bar tending, order drinks to support
-thank God for giving me a housemate who is now a bar tender
-get back to house, get angry at iTunes for no longer working on my laptop
-go to bed
Sunday-
-get to work looking like a before picture
-get through open to close at work
-get through two hour long mandatory meeting after work
-ask God why the holidays suck ass nowadays
-realize that I will be working a twelve hour shift on black friday
-calm myself down by knowing that Desperate Housewives is being TiVoed
-get back to house and cook amazing blue cheese pasta with red gravy
-go to bed early because work starts at seven AM
-have exciting dream where God says to be a personal trainer
-and that embracing heritage and ancestor culture is much needed
Monday-
-go to work
-get through work looking freshly shaven and care free
-start to make mental work out plan for myself to get back to the body I had
-go to class
-design tattoo for me while sitting in class
-stop at grocers on way home and get pizza ingredients
-spend next two hours preparing and chopping and baking two delicious pizzas
-listen to Rosemary Clooney, Dean Martin, Lady Gaga, and Madonna in the kitchen
-thank God that all four people were/are alive and that they sing to me
-burn my arm on the oven, but don't care, this pizza is worth it
-enjoy said pizza with Amaretto and Schweppes
-thank God for living and for baking
-sit in the kitchen nook and type this while feeding housemates
-tonight, light a candle and thank God for my friggin life

Think About It...

Did you ever wonder if maybe your whole life was just a brain tumor and really you're just catatonic in a hospital bed with last night's oatmeal running down your chin...
Or maybe you drowned when you seven years old and this is just the watery vision that fills up your lungs and head before someone gives you CPR...
This could all be just a dream you're having in the womb, and then when you're born you forget it all...
Maybe I just fell down the Rabbit hole...

It could be true. You never really know. Everything starts and ends so quickly, and surprises happen and timing is everything and you never really know what de ja vu really is. Sometimes a person can be envious of Alice...or feel just like her.

Follow The Law

I know the "holiday season" is upon and it is supposed to be nothing but hugs and kittens, but when you work retail you kind of despise it all. Plus living in the city makes it impossible to drive around through the snow, the roads are never cleared up, parking is terrible and looking cute is harder to pull off when you have seven layers on. Not to mention that peoples moods get severely elevated in one way or another: if you're a happy person, you become obnoxiously happy; if you are more like Meredith Grey, well then all you have to do is re-watch season two to get my point. It's not like I'm anti-holiday, but the loveliness of it all wears thin year after year. So, what did I do to ensure I have something to look forward to? Demand I not be single yet again for the holiday season, no. Throw myself into a new hobby or an old work out routine, no. Dedicate myself to watching an entire television show that is no longer on the air but something I always meant to watch but didn't have the time, no. Well, that could still happen, we'll see. This season I picked an amazing looking movie and will begin a countdown towards it. I doubt I will have to see it alone, but if I must I must. In the past I would pick holidays or movie openings and convince myself I would have a date to bring to it, or celebrate it with. It seems like those are the unwritten laws of the almighty holiday season. The greatest gift is to have a lover to give a gift to, from a material stand point. Carrie and Miranda have a very prudent conversation about this on Valentine's day in the first film. If you're in a couple or a relationship, you don't notice how centered around you the holidays are. The holiday season is a heightened couples season, but I don't really feel like following the holiday/couples season rules this time around. This year, I'm taking a more relaxed approach. I've got the boys I live with to become closer to, I've got new friends to get to know better, I've got old friends who will be coming back into my life, and I've got Jude Law to look forward to. Which brings me to my film of choice: Sherlock Holmes. If you haven't seen the trailer yet, you are missing out. It looks fantastic, and even if it's shit, I get to look at Jude Law for about two hours. Yahtzee! Anyways. I think I might have created a drink. Amaretto and Lemonade. It's delicious. I only did it because I ran out of orange juice and had to substitute in the lemonade. It's even better tasting then the original drink of choice. I'll have to think of a name for it. Maybe I can call it the Jude Law, the amaretto is sweet and inviting and the lemonade is a little bitter and has a bite. Hahaha. Damn I'm clever. And I promise this was not a premeditated joke, I type as I think. Which is why the punctuation on this thing is always bullocks. I've got laundry to finish, a bed to make, another drink to fix, and some tattoo browsing to do. Maybe I'll rent a Jude Law movie later just for shits and giggles.

The Couples Table

It's not easy to sit at the couples table and be single.
But you do it, to be nice, and polite.
It's not easy to pin on smile, laugh, and try to mingle.
But you do it, so you don't ruin the night.

Everyone nods their head and says your next,
the time's a coming, no need to worry.
So you nod too, as they get up to dance.
They twirl about the room in all their wonder.
And it makes you realize, you've been acting like Blanche.

*** *** ***

Like I said, I've been writing a lot of shit lately.

All Ways Rejected

I feel like coming home to him, in stead of mass chaos and floors stickier then that of a bars, would probably make me smile more often. For those of you who don't know, and how the hell could you not, that is Tyson Ritter; he is the lead singer of All American Rejects. He belongs to me, he just doesn't like to announce it to the world. He is perfect and the ultimate idea of what I think is sexy and delightful. Him, a couch, North by Northwest and some TBell would be the best night of my life. Lately I've been writing songs more often then Lindsey does lines, and I can't help but think Tyson would know how to sing them. I mean, I don't break glass or anything when I try to carry a tune, but he would totally be the guy I'd want to collaborate with. In all senses of the word. I did however get microphone friendly during my birthday celebration. I did a drunk rendition of Like A Prayer, and even got a standing ovation afterward...it might have been due to my voice or my lack of clothing. Either way, I sang and it was awesome! The birthday week was exciting and flashy and fantastic, but I did see a couple things going differently, but altogether it was memorable. My birthday and this time of fall always brings back memories, but there is a lot going on right now that keeps those at bay. The founder of the company I worked for died recently, so we all got LiveStrong knock off bands to remember him. I always thought he was a cool guy, but the bands have his life motto on it: Do What You Love. Which is also my motto, hence my quitting college, not following the rules, or coloring inside the lines. I think me and that guy could have totally been friends. Plus, you know he had sick style. So in honor of Donald Fischer, let's keep doing what we love. And not waste time on other things.

Why It Truly Is The Grand Life

I am on the third day of a five day birthday celebration. I requested off from work and emailed my prof's telling them not to expect me. This week and the coming holiday weekend are strictly devoted to fun and festivities. I think I can safely safe I have been to about eighty percent of the bars in this city. I already had a handle on when to go where on what night, but now I am seeing what bar is known for what drink(s). And I haven't had to pay for anything. It's fantastic. These past few days have been tremendous. Going out at night and not coming home till the early morning. Sleeping until linner time. Walking to the Bell to get some tacos. Or having Jimmy's bring the sammich right to my front door. Reading one of the new books that were gifted to me for my birthday. Or watching the movie I bought with my gift cards. I strongly recommend "The Holiday", it's really got something--or someone--for all who watch it. So besides all the new fantastic drinks, I have once again realized I'm the luckiest basterd around here. My friends are the greatest people who ever lived, and they really all deserve awards. I know I'm swept away in a tide of endorphins, smiles, and Amaretto and OJ's; but I really do know some of the coolest, most genuine, people around. And I strongly looking forward to all the future dinner's, bar crawls, and late night drinking story times that will come along. Also, I had the best of luck when it came to who rang me up or took my order on my actual birthday day. The boy at the Bell was so punk-rock-Armani it was captivating. I nearly invited to meet us at the bar later that same night. And then the boy at Meijer was a skinny version of Chris Evans! It really is the Grand Life. So now I'm sitting in the kitchen nook, waiting for Jimmy's to deliver my country club sammich, after having watched a good two hours of Absolutely Fabulous episodes on YouTube, recovering from last nights events and building up energy (and PR) for tonight's events. Reading "Everything I Ate" by Tucker Shaw, a gift my sweetheart Amy, and browsing through "The Cocktail Bible" a gift from Andrew's sweetheart Carolyn. I rather like this whole birthday thing, a boy could get use to this. But I do know once November begins it's back to work, I can't get all my drinks for free.....or can I? Oh! My sammich is here now. More to come later.

iHeart...

+watching my tivo-ed episode of Brothers and Sisters through the ears of the pup because she is sitting on my lap and has her head on my shoulder.
+downloading a bunch of brand new, flashy, sparkly, gaga-rific remixes for my new iPod
+my new iPod!courtesy of my amazing, lovely parents.
+seven coffee mugs of green tea everyday.
+having pie for breakfast, and not caring about the calories.
+not caring about the calories because I am dancing while eating thank to the iPod and the brilliance of David Guetta.
+David Guetta. Nuf said.
+Bad Romance by Lady Gaga, and thinking to myself that she put out a new song just in time for it to get remixed for the dance floor in time for my birthday celebration.
+my friends and hour long phone conversations.
+Golden Girl episodes and a stack of Oreos...cheesecake was too expensive.
+skinny denim, cardigans, and boots.
+the smell of Fall.
+getting to carve pumpkins.
+sharing dessert with my sisser.
+pancakes with bacon and chocolate chips inside them. YUMMY.
+planning my four day birthday extrava-Gaga-ganza!
+the house Halloween party!
+finding out my highest grade this semester is in a Math class. total irony.
+playing catchphrase and kicking ass at it.
+Bad Romance by Lady Gaga, seriously, it's worth mentioning twice.
+this girl called Brittany who promised to make sure I don't die during the birthday extrava-Gaga-ganza. She's a sweetheart.
+the house I live in and the boys I live with.
+and the pup!
+the fact that my compy didn't asplode when I downloaded iTunes. Good work compy.
+the managers who pay me to listen to them vent while on smoke break. Getting paid to give out advice...hells yea!
+knowing I'm going to be single for this birthday and not being completely terrified about that fact.
+the fact that I'm going to be burning calories left and right now that I have remixes in my ear 24/7. yahtzee!

Biscuits Make It Better

Had some type of flu for the majority of the week. Probably more then once because there was a couple moments when I thought I was recovered but then had a sneak attack tummy panic. Thank everything the toilet is close to my bedroom. I hope getting sick early will leave me safe for the rest of the season, but living with five other guys kind of leaves your immune system on overdrive. So we'll see. Didn't really do a whole lot this week at all, and since my compy is older then Joan Rivers, I couldn't even catch up on television shows in bed. All I did was drink my weight in fluids and sleep in the fetal position. But I do get to return to my home city for the weekend, so that should be nice. See some friends, stay with some family, maybe walk the magnificent mile. I love the Mag-Mile. Other things I have grown to love this week due to my extended bed visitation. Flannel Sheets! The new song from One Republic. Chicken broth. Cookies. Biscuits. Green Tea. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Planning my upcoming birthday celebrations. That's right it's plural. But now I need to nibble on some flaky, multi-layered biscuit goodness before I try to sit through class without getting sick or feeling the effects of the flu(s). Chicago, you can't come fast enough.

Out And About

I didn't realize it was National Coming Out day...I think it's a big bucket of horse shit. Turkeys need days. Pandas need days. Breast Cancer Awareness needs days. If you're gay, you need to grow a pair and kick open the closet door. It's not fun. It's not easy. It's sort of as painful as surgery without being put under. But it's something that you have to do. The whole pride concept really baffles me. We want to be treated as equals, and yet we parade down Michigan Avenue in sparkled banana hammocks: where is the logic you stupid queens. You aren't doing anyone any favors by drawing attention to your obnoxiousness. There is such a thing as a demure gay. Try it on sometime, eh? Often times the quiet, observant people are the ones who get their way and make a place in the world; while the screamers and flailers are easily misplaced. So there is something to be said for quiet determination and silent action. The squeaky wheel gets the oil, but eventually it gets thrown out. And I don't know about you, but I didn't come out just to be thrown out of society. Get your homo act together and become a civilized gay.

Ill Maestro

Not fun at all to run the show when you are kind of under the weather. None of the notes sound good and all the melodies fall flat. You're supposed to be hitting the high notes and you can barely hum along. When the music does play though, it's amazing. I think song is a great way to communicate what you are feeling. Kristen Chenoweth does such a great job of proving my point for me. The trick is to act out a song and just happen to be singing while you do it, you have to use your whole body to really convey what emotions you are letting out. But we can't all belt it out like the cheno, so some of us just stick with singing to our steering wheels. Tonight, while I was driving home from class and singing my stress out with Nelly Furtado, I happened to remember the last boy who sang to me. The whole thing hit me so hard I had to check and make sure my airbags weren't deployed. It happened nearly a year ago and still the whole memory came back so vividly I could hear his voice. The drive home just got a helluva lot longer. But instead of playing out the events of what would happen if my car slipped over the white lines, I sang even louder and harder. I could have put Catherine Zeta to shame, her Velma Kelly don't have nothin' on me. It's funny what invokes emotion and what doesn't. I almost got run down by a car today while crossing the street to get to my two o'clock class. Some stupid bitch tried to run the light and instead almost ran me down. Her license plate nudged my bookbag. No joke. But I wasn't even phased. I didn't even flip her the bird. I could have gone all "Im walkin here!" on her, but I just barely looked over my shoulder and kept on walking. I had a class to get to. Obviously I would have been pissed if I had gotten hit. And had lived to complain about it. But it didn't happen, it was just another melody that ended up not being a hit. I seem to have encountered a lot of those lately. But I think it was because I was trying to conduct so much at once. Now I'm working with a more acoustic lifestyle, so I think it should be better. Easier to make a song worth singing. Easier to find someone to sing with, someone worth singing to. I may not always be a good conductor, but at least I'm singing for myself now and not just lip syncing. It's good to know I have a voice of my own. The cheesier the post, the more tired I am. HAhahahah

You Have To Signal First

I don't even remember this weekend. It's just a blur of money making, passing out on top of my bed, throwing myself in the shower, and then going to make some more money. Somewhere in there I figured out I should quit job two before I got fired from it. My blinkers stopped working on my car. I ran out of shampoo. And I got a tummy ache. From the poor choices in food or from the lack of food in general. I felt awful driving around without my blinkers working, because I felt like a huge hypocrite. I'm the driver that yells at cars when they cut into my lane with out signaling first. There is no need to surprise me like that when you could have clearly signaled first and let me know what was happening. I like that approach in life too. I don't care for bomb dropping and surprise omissions, but sometimes it's unavoidable. Like quitting a job. Ninety percent of the time though you can give a reasonable heads up before you let it all hang out. It might be the childish thing to do, or make you lose upper hand points, but it makes the results easier to handle. The rules of the road can be applied to life as well. Signal before you make a move. Don't go too fast. If you have road rage pull over and sort things out before you hurt yourself or someone around you. Stay on your side of the road. Keep your eyes on the horizon. Try not to worry about other drivers, you don't have control over them. And follow the advice of Bette Davis, buckle up. All this talk about motors reminds of my truck desire. It's been put on hold for the time being. But the massage therapist thing has a full tank of gas and is ready to ride. I think now that I'm only going to have job one to deal with, I will be a much happier driver. No more road rage, excess exhaust, crossed wires. I think my engine will be running much better from now on. I've still got a couple miles of country road and some tight curves to pass in the next couple months, but I'm close to getting on the highway of my future. And I have a working blinker so it will be easy to merge.

Drenched In Vogue

Changing outfits four times in one day. Getting naked in the parking lot to do so. Making sure your outfit has enough black on it. Cigarette to the right, hips to the left. Champagne flute on the table in front of you. Zip up your black boots. Skinny jeans on, tucked in, too make sure your edgy. Glamorous poetry read, followed by a fabulous post party, capped off my a tremendous late night stroll through the sparkling downtown streets. All the while checking your hair, your make up, your waist line, your smile, your pout and where your eyes are wandering. Don't show too much interest, but don't look bored. Seem completely enticed, but radically detached. Laugh with your eyes, but disapprove with your mouth. Arms folded, arms crossed, hand in pocket, hand on hip, shoulders curved, ribs out, heels planted firmly on the pretentiousness that is the pseudo-new-age-post-future-art-vogue moment you fell into. Strike a pose. There's nothing to it? I love Madonna like it's my job, but all that vogue shit is tiring. The song is great, but have you ever tried living it out for an evening? It's exhausting. My motives weren't entirely legitimate in the first place, but I was definitely up for the evening. Or so I thought. It was part homework assignment, and part boy chasing. Not just any boy though. A boy crafted so perfectly your eyes hurt if you look directly at him for too long. It's like staring at the sun. And you want to get as close as you can without getting burnt too. He was so perfect I would have cried in front of him, he has that effect. Have you ever seen someone and you just thought you'd be so safe with them you could cry in front of them and not care about it later. You just want to crawl in their lap and hold them, and try as hard as possible to have their atoms swirl up with yours. Maybe you haven't. But if you have, then you'd understand the lengths you'd go to get close to the sun without getting burnt. But somewhere between my second marlboro and my third outfit change I had to face the vogue, as it were, and admit that I can't keep up. I was wading in an ocean of retro-modern-vintage-fit-denim wearing hipsters, doing my best to stay afloat but I had nothing to cling to except my own failed expectations. The boy was sweet and personable but a wolf confined to solitary for hundred years wouldn't be able to touch this boys lone wolf mannerisms. And, after all, no one can live on the sun. It's hot and delicious, but you will end up getting burnt. Who knows, maybe I can go tanning every once in awhile. But, for now, I'll have to keep my glamorizing to a minimum because I'm not sure how to wash pretentious party out of my favorite coat. Or scrub the fakeness off my boots. What's the cleaning solution for that again? Two thirds realism and one third average. I think I could handle it all if I had a metaphoric pair of sunglasses and better denim. But I've not the time or energy to require such things. For now at least.

Because You're Worth It?

It might be just an ad campaign slogan, but it does bring about a good idea. At least that was how my brain thought about it today while it tried desperately to keep from falling down the rabbit hole of unconsciousness. Today was a continuation of not being filtered. But in a more internal sort of way. Today I was brutally honest, bold and outspoken to myself. I decided I wanted to trade in my gold four door, and get a black pick up truck. I decided even if there was a boy who wanted to date me, it'd be hard to do because I'm kind of dating my house. Either by making sure the kitchen is clean, double checking that the pup is taken care of, keeping up with the five guys I am privileged to live with, and occasionally spending an evening cooking or baking something for all of us to enjoy and calm down over. So, the boy who ends up wanting to be in my life, better make sure it's all worth it. What really struck me today was how badly I do not want to be in college. I keep having this repetitive de ja vu where it feels like I'm doing the same thing over and over again, and I always have the same level of excitement or passion for it. Which is borderline zero. It's like a modern version of Bill Murray's "Groundhog Day". What ever happened to Bill? "Lost in Translation" was like four years ago. Anyways. I'm liking the idea of going to massage therapist school. Doing some kind of accelerated course and being done with classes as soon as humanly possible. It is not worth it to me to be stuck in courses that make me want to never pick up a book again or put pen to paper. I do not have time for that, especially when Iran getting all trigger happy all over again. That shit is scary. So with the ever present carpe diem mentality, I have decided to start researching schools, used black trucks, and new cookie recipes. For the guys, of course. Because to me, that's what makes it all worth while. Taking care of yourself and the ones you love. F society and the educational societal norms. We only get to do this once, right? So I want to do things that won't wash out or fade over time, I want a life that is vibrant and multi-faceted. Because, I'm worth it.

A Brief Moment

There is one thing to be said for being tired all the time: you're uninhibited. You say things you wouldn't have said had you got enough sleep. You take action in ways you wouldn't if you had the rational thinking rest provides. And you wouldn't be bold enough to talk to people who otherwise would have intimidated the shit out of you. Being exhausted can be freeing. The brief moments where I was once unafraid of repercussion when I was fully rested, now happen all the time. My brain is too tired to filter what I'm doing. It's two thirty am, I have to be out the door at seven. When I crawl out of bed I will have a thirteen hour day to look forward to. But hey, what do I care? I don't even get a moments pause to think about it all. If things start going bad, I'll just lean over and make a new friend. I'm learning that it's not that hard. Apparently all you have to be is tired.

Let It Rip

I have a strange feeling that this week is going to be one long free fall. And when I try to pull the rip cord, there will be no parachute. It might be problematic. I was sitting in Philosophy class today and I was so disgusted by the conversation that I ready to drop out of college completely. The whole idea of it is so perverse to me. And if you really focus on it, it seems unnatural. The things that I am supposed to be learning in college will not be my parachute. There is no way. In the long run I see myself caring for a family and writing when I have the time. I like caring for people, I'm good at it. It comes naturally. My mother was a great example of how caring for people can be the most rewarding thing there is. School and college is something "they" created to keep us in line. Well I feel like stepping out of line, politely. I'm not going to start anarchy or develop a new kind of cult. I just don't feel my life and my skills are best utilized through college. Maybe I should go to massage therapist school. It's a form of caring for people, and you don't have to sit in a classroom that often. That's one of the many things that get to me, sitting in those white washed classrooms. I think the color is designed to suck the future right out of you. I can't stand it. Life seems to be passing me by. I don't like that feeling at all. Sometimes, usually after a couple of glasses of White Zin, this phrase returns to me: Gone and forgotten, before I had a chance to remember it. I first thought of it while riding my bike back to my first house from campus. It was so true. Everything around me seems to gone before I even had a chance to remember it. Today was like one long de ja vu, but it was stronger then that. I had sat in those classrooms before, I had typed a paper four minutes before it was due before, I had contributed to class discussion without having read the material before. I'm on some kind of weird pseudo auto pilot. I don't think I should be at that point already. I'm a little too young for that. Or, at least, I think so. I should be enjoying what I'm learning, and not zoning out and day dreaming. I should be okay with the parachute I have strapped to by back. Because, honestly, the one I have right now doesn't look all that appealing to pull. That's a problem, no?

No Signal, Searching For A Network

One of the guys I live with has just adopted two kids. Two representations that not only is he heavily involved with his girlfriend, but they have begun to start a family. At this point it's only a technological family, him and his girlfriend are getting a "family plan" with their new cell phones, but these days that means more then owning a dog together. A cell phone baby requires commitment, and a contract. You're locked in for two years, and where diapers should be you have hidden charges. And in place of first steps you have free texts. In my opinion they were already on the family highway, maybe not in the express lane, but definitely driving at a steady pace. They're starting a family, cellular instead of nuclear, and I can't even text someone to get a drink on a Saturday night. Don't let me be misunderstood, because I have no hostility towards them at all, but it does sting a little when you see someone wearing Banana Republic and you're wearing last seasons cardigan. It's only a problem because I let it be one. Singlehood is not the end of everything. And I'd rather take the time to find a good signal then try to pick up a bad connection. It's hard to find a network that fits your schedule and where you are in life. Terminating a phone plan because it was a bad fit hits you with fees, terminating a relationship because it was bad hits you with emotional fees. So maybe it's not a matter of being single, but a matter of finding the right signal. Or sending the right signal. Maybe it's me, maybe I'm sending all the right signals. I decided a long time ago that I wouldn't go out of my way to change service in hopes of getting a good connection, so maybe that comes off as being a bitch. Or stubborn. Which isn't the case at all, I just have standards. And if the plan isn't working, I'll drop it faster then when I went from AT&T to Verizon. I shouldn't, and never will, have to dial a new number just to have a guy pick up, but at the same time I shouldn't feel like I'm in a dead zone. My texts might be unlimited, but my patience is not. There are some things you can rely on to always connect: friends, a good spaghetti dinner, the complete first season of SATC and English tea. That's my new thing, SATC and English tea. I get all the seasons for free from work, so I'm going back through all of them again. All the way at the beginning, connecting with it all over again. Not sure how much longer I'll be able to get it from work for free, today was a disaster. And on Thursday I was so tired I showed up at the wrong job. I was supposed to open Job One, but I showed up at Job Two. It all worked out alright, but I see it as an omen. I can't keep this kind of schedule up much longer. But at the same time, I kind of have to. Truth be told, I'm trying to be in too many networks and I'm just ending up getting fuzzy signals from all of them. I need to try and consolidate my life and dial less numbers, less area codes. I'm all over the place. Live here, work there, class over there, work down there, friends up here. Both my mind, and my phone, is on overload. Sometimes it feels like my battery is burning out, and I have to recharge more often then I use to. Is this getting old, or just another upgrade I didn't sign up for. Seems like life is getting just as complicated as the newest cell phones, but I don't remember why I have all these apps. What happened to good old dial phones. I crave that a lot more then a busy signal. I keep trying to dial the old fashioned way, but the only response I get is "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and dial again." That's not productive.

Chicks Dig Scars

I grew up in a cul-de-sac, in the suburbs outside of Chicago. It was kind of boring in that circle, because it wasn't a full blown street. It was like a blemish on the street it was connected to. I wanted to live on street more like Wisteria Lane even before I knew about a Wisteria Lane. Although the blemish was dull, it did have it's highlights. No one ever drove through it, so I would roller blade in circles for hours without worrying about getting run down. Except this one time when a random car did pull in, and I had to slide out of the way. After silently cursing with a new found swear word, I realized I was alive and well. Except for the rock sticking out of my knee. I still have the scar to this day, and every time I tell this story at least one person says, "it's cool, chicks dig scars". I'm not completely sure what "chicks" dig, but I am realizing a disturbing trend when it comes to scars. I don't mean the kind of scab you pick at because it got itchy, I am referring to the more hidden scars, the mental scars and the emotional scars. There seems to be an unspoken competition as to who is more f-ed up. Nowadays it seems necessary to have at least tow tales of how someone done you wrong. You're not supposed to have easy break ups and happy goodbyes. You're supposed to have sutures all over your heart and brain due to the immeasurable damages done to you. The in thing these days seems to be getting thrown out, of a relationship that is. Having scars and baggage seems to the new must have item. Forget about strapping on an Omega watch or carrying a Louis Vuitton bag, now you strap on your last relationships hatred and carry your ex's insecurities. I would even go so far as to say anti-coupling has replaced coupling. Matching yourself up with someone when you know it's going to go bad sooner rather then later, just because you know it'll be a good story to tell later. I think this is a terrible trend, worse then pajama pants making a comeback and more disastrous then the band aid dress. We should be attempting to put band aids on our wounds and cleaning up our cuts. The only kind of burn or scab I want is the one I got while trying to make a romantic dinner.

Empty Bed, Empty Head

This weekend was more of just an extended work week. I put into full shifts at both of my jobs. It was mostly a blur of car travel and customer service, until Sunday evening. One of the guys a live with turned twenty one. I don't think I need to say anymore then that. I was one of the drivers so no drinking for me, but it was fun enough getting to keep track and take care of all of those who were drinking. A few of them apologized for being so crazy and thanked me for watching over them, but I really don't mind that kind of thing. I'm good at it. I excel at it. I like it. I have no problem caring for the people I love. This evening was a really, really good time. But it also made me remember( like I could ever forget?) how much I miss having a guy in my life. I like caring for him. Listening to his day. Cooking for him. Looking out for him. Having a great time with him. Once again, it's something I excel at. I really miss having someone to cuddle up to before going to sleep. Having an empty bed sort of feels like I'm not doing everything I could be doing. I'm good at both my jobs. I'm great at being a friend. I'm crap at school. I'm an above average baker. But I excel at relationships, and not being in one feels like a part of my brain is not getting exercised. Like a big chunk of brain is just empty, vacant. I don't like that feeling. I'm not going to lie, I let the puppy sleep on my bed last night, and it was the best sleep I've had in a long time. Just having a beating heart to fall asleep to. Feeling someone roll over in the night. I miss that. All is not lost though. The temperatures a dropping which means layered clothing, and everyone looks cuter in layers. When done properly. And it means I can live in my black cardigans. Which I look proper in. It'd just be so much nicer if I had a guy who fit properly with me. And we could be proper together. And have a proper relationship....And wear argyle. Ok, obviously I need to go to bed now.

Time Goes Bye

When I was really little I got lost in a Target. Not so much lost, has separated from my family. I remember it very well. I stopped in front of the watches to look at the cool Batman watch, and the Power Ranger watch and the Ninja Turtle watch. They were so cool to look at because they were bright and lit up and made tick tock noises. So there I stood mesmerized by the time pieces when I suddenly realized I was standing all by myself. It wasn't long before a nice worker lady scooped me up and was about to take me to the front desk, or whatever desk they take lost children to, but before we got to there my mom had caught up to us and taken me back. It wasn't so much a traumatic experience as it was a learning experience. I already knew not to wander away by myself, and not to run immediately to the toy aisle, so there was no lesson about staying put or minding where you are. The lesson I walked away with that day so many years ago was this: time sucks. Ok, so I didn't phrase it like that back then. But I discovered that time is a tricky, unfriendly, mean thing that is evil to us. I tried to stand still for just a moment, and I wound up lost and in the arms of a stranger. Funny how that works. It's still applicable to me today too. I have no time to write, or create or draw or paint or do leisure reading. All of my hours and minutes are broken up into categories. Work, school, eating, sleeping, miscellaneous. And then those categories are broken down further into subcategories. My life is just thirty minute intervals. This might sound like I'm complaining, but it's more of me being surprised. Again and again and again. How times goes bye so quickly. It up and friggin leaves, just walks out the door. And it takes everything with it. Places, experiences, laughter, tears, people...love. Try as you might, you never get to stop and stare at the watches, because even if you do they are still ticking away. Eventually you reach the day when no one, stranger or not, will be there to pick you up. Because that takes time out of their day. And who can afford to do that when time goes bye so quickly?