Love.

"Love is a chemical process which causes delusion."

Spring Rain

The cold, rainy days of spring are somewhat depressing.

This marks the end of all my previous posts from my other blog. All posts from now on will be correctly dated.
....

Dreamland

We are standing in the kitchen as if we had done so a thousand other nights. The weather is cool and a slight breeze permeates the air. My parents are here this time. I think it odd at first, to have you and them together, but the more I think, the more natural it seems.

I complain about things. You listen. Like you always do. Listening has always been something you do well. You know just the right thing to say during each pause. Ten measures of music followed by one measure of rest. Other nights,
we exchange roles, although the song is the same. Tonight, I am the
music, you are my rest.

You are in my room as I enter. I sit down on the bed. You then offer me help to the problems I had mentioned earlier. Help that I never expected… but perhaps should have.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say. “Really, it’s unnecessary.”

“But I want to. I care about you and I want to help,”

I slowly get up from the bed. I walk over towards you and wrap my arms around you. Your embrace always soothes away the most wearisome of days, but today it is has a feeling like I never felt before. I smile. We hold one another as if the world is ending.

“I wish this could last forever,” you whisper in my ear.

We hold each other tighter. I can imagine myself in no better place than in your sweet embrace. We then stand here, silently, gazing into each other’s eyes. Your cute smile withers away all my worries.

“I can tell you’re a really great guy.”

I squeeze you tighter as the words fall out of your mouth. My heart beats faster. My mind races in every direction.

I then awake from this mockery of reality to find myself alone. I rollover in bed and clutch my pillow. For now this will have to do.

Untitled

trying to convince the unconvinceable
with such precise precision presiding over each decision
of where to place, where to position each repetition -
i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you
of where to place, where to position each repetition -
i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you

each meeting always mixed
with the fixed idea of who did what and where and to whom
always erupting, disrupting our speech as we each preach
to the other as if a mother admonishing her child

confrontation compounding compounding compounding until
rationality and its counter clash into a crash
into a frantic dash of emotion and the notion of who was always right
and we fight into the night not knowing
it was neither you
nor I who was always right

those long long nights filled with fights
only accomplished one thing
always always always
causing compromise to end in goodbyes

Single Ladies!

World AIDS Day

I am so excited about World AIDS Day that is coming up December 1. My immune system is already weakening with excitement that I can hardly stay alive. I realize that it is still two whole months away and that this post is a little early but I just can’t hold it in anymore. Just like all white people, I love events that occur one day a year to celebrate/memorialize/commemorate a certain group of people. It just happens that people with AIDS are my FAVORITE group of people (with black people in close second).

I am in a bit of a dilemma, though. I can’t quite decide what to dress up as. Here are a couple of ideas I have so far…

1. Full-blown AIDS

2. Man with a caved-in face

3. A protease inhibitor

4. Or just be HIV

I wonder if there will be a POZ Pride Parade to go along with the festivities this year… I suspect that if there is one then Walgreen would be the grand marshall (or perhaps Pfizer). I can just imagine the chants of the people in the parade - now we stand here broken-hearted, for all the victims who’ve departed - as this year’s theme song “Oops I Did It Again” by Britney Spears plays in the background. The usual gay cheerleaders will be in the parade except they are not skinny because they are anorexic and/or bulimic. No, it’s because they are wasting away from their AIDS medication! (Gosh, just kidding. Why you so serious?)

Speaking of theme songs, what do you suppose the theme song for super AIDS would be? Perhaps “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” by Daft Punk?

Be sure to send me costume ideas and I hope to see you at the POZ Pride Parade, if not before!

BANNED!!!

I love it when people ban things.

They like to ban plastic bags…

“Last year, San Francisco became the first U.S. city to ban the bags [plastic bags] from supermarkets and chain drug stores, and this month, the city of Westport, Conn., banned most kinds of plastic bags at retail checkout counters. Boston, Baltimore and Portland, Ore., are also considering bans.”

Fast food restaurants…

“A law that would bar fast-food restaurants from opening in South Los Angeles for at least a year sailed through the Los Angeles City Council on Tuesday.”

Cell phones in crosswalks…

“A state senator from Brooklyn said on Tuesday he plans to introduce legislation that would ban people from using an MP3 player, cell phone, Blackberry or any other electronic device while crossing the street in New York City and Buffalo.

“NewsChannel 4 reported that Sen. Carl Kruger is proposing the ban in response to two recent pedestrian deaths in his district, including a 23-year-old man who was struck and killed last month while listening to his iPod on Avenue T and East 71st Street In Bergen Beach.”

If somethings SOUNDS dangerous then you can probably expect someone somewhere is proposing a ban to help keep YOU safe. I love how everyone is always looking out for me. I feel like those little amoebas in the ocean that are on the endangered species list who receive thousands of dollars in aid every year to help keep them alive. If it weren’t for HUMANS what would ANIMALS do?! Probably go extinct!

With so many people wanting to ban something, I have a couple things I’d like to ban, too.

THINGS TO BAN:

1. PEOPLE who like to play games.

2. Having sex at the gym (oh, wait, that’s what I like to do!).

3. Chicken bones on the bus (except for black people).

4. Black people (jk lol).

5. Breayd trucks (they cause too much confusion).

6. Guys who are ugly in the face (or have a caved in face).

Feel free to add to the list if there is anything you would like to never see again. If we can just stick together then I am sure we can get it banned!

I Lost My Grip

To quote a wise man, “Sometimes you start to lose your grip, but if you’re smart, it is during these times that you learn things you never knew.”

Well, I am retarded; therefore, I lost my grip. But, I was smart enough to realize that I had lost my grip and took the necessary actions to rectify the situation. There comes a time when a person’s “roll” must come to a screeching halt. Mine has. The days of having my cake and eating it too have come to an end! I pulled the reins ever so gently (or as gently as the situation allowed) and said, “Woah!” I am happy to say that for the time being I have regained my grip.

But sometimes I wish the government would just bail me out of my ridiculous predicaments rather than me having to deal with all of the problems that I caused upon myself. People make mistakes and I shouldn’t be held accountable for ALL of the things I do wrong. Relationships as we know them could cease to exist if I am not bailed out of my problems. The entire infrastructure could collapse! Left would be right, bottom would be top, cheating would be monogamy, gay would be straight, and AIDS would be a RASH! You see, if I am continually losing my grip there is no other choice than a government bailout.

So, if you ever see me beginning to lose my grip, stop for a minute and think - Do I really want everything I know to be true to become inverted?

(The answer is no.)

Coat Check, Please!

Last Sunday I went to Northend with BF #4 and two of his friends (just friends?) to have a couple drinks. For those of you that have never been to Northend, it is a sports oriented bar. I have never been a huge sports fanatic but I have never hated them either and anything coupled with alcohol can never be that bad of an idea (except maybe AIDS and alcohol - that could be a deadly combination).

It just happened to be the Bears first game of the season and, as a result, the bar was brimming with MASC men! (I won’t dare delve into the topic of homo-eroticism and football in this post.) Never had I seen so many queeny guys congregating in one place attempting to demonstrate to one another that they too can be butchy. Apparently, all one needs to do to be masc is to wear one’s baseball cap backwards (or a football jersey or a jersey of any sports team for that matter) and spout off some football jargon every once in a while. Voila!

I have to admit that in the midst of this identity conundrum I still managed to have loads (and by loads I mean cum loads.. jk lol.. just pretend I didn’t say that) of fun! I had just as much or even more fun than had I stayed out until 5 a.m. at the RE-Berlins. Not only did I intermittently watch some of the football game, I managed to come in last in a dart competition, win one out of four games of pool, and chug three beers. At this point you may be asking yourself how an attractive, brilliant, intellectual, genius like myself could possibly have fun on a night like that. Well, there is a simple (and by simple I mean brilliant) explanation for that.

Most intellectuals like to congregate amongst themselves, discuss the most pressing issues, engage in AIDS related banter, and compliment themselves on how brilliant they are. Well, not ME! Unlike most intellectuals, as I catwalk my sexy self through the slew of half-naked bodies of men and make my way to the coat check, not only do I check my 100% pure leather couture jacket and matching scarf (VERY expensive, you probably couldn’t afford it) but I also check my intellect as well. Now, with the faculty of reasoning and understanding gone, I can have all the drunken, retarded fun I want just like all the other queens!

So, the next time you find yourself quietly sitting in the corner of your neighborhood gay bar having a lousy time just march your proud (and by proud I mean gay) self up to coat check and rid yourself of the brilliance (that your friends never get) and just have fun!

GAMES!

For the past two weeks (when I have not been busy inviting then uninviting people) I have baked a cake AND eaten all of it. For some reason I just can’t get enough CAKE. The first week I made a double chocolate cake with delicious vanilla frosting. The second week I made a german chocolate cake with vanilla/pecan frosting. Boy, was it good! Those cakes must have been at least a POUND each. Everyday without fail I pounded each delectable morsel into my gaping mouth. Just when I thought I could not eat another bite I pounded some more in. It was as if the cake was saying, “anytime you want to be pounded, I’m up for it!” I had better be careful, though. I don’t want to be a fattie! And that is exactly what I’ll become if I keep having my cake and eating it too. I mean it’s almost like I’m on a roll or something.

And what is it with everyone wanting a masculine guy? I pride myself in my princess attributes! Some people say that princesses are only nice if they have castles and horses but I say let my worldly charm speak for itself. I am who I am! PEOPLE like to play games, but not me.

Miscommunication

How many times has someone approached you, combined words and phrases that resembled English, spoken confidently as if a native speaker, but might as you try you can not decipher what the hell that person is saying? This happens to me ALL THE TIME!!

Case and point:

Person A: Sup yo? Deez peeps be off da hook. Yous gots ta be representin or deez peeps be hatin.

Person B: ??? (what is really understood - ¡¡click click¡¡)

Translation: Hi, how are you? These people are really cool. You have to represent yourself or people will not think you are cool enough for them.

I work in customer service and we have customers from all races come in. More times than not, if it is not very busy then the black customers will choose to be served by the black employee. Today I asked my co-worker if she noticed this. Her response, “Of course, they speak the same language.”

LOL!!

Things I NEED to know to get through the day.

“Say you find out something about your husband, like he got another wife and some kids… what I want to know is - how do you kill a man in his sleep?”

How does one “hit the bottom and work the middle?”

When someone is “not home, just left” where do they go?

Chronology of Death

Chronology of Death

8pm: Why didn’t you call? You never call. The phone sits silently. I stare at it for a minute. No one ever calls.

My eye twitches as I converge into tears.

9pm: Stay… or go? I debate that persistent voice that only I can hear. It doesn’t matter. In the end, nothing ever really matters.

Voice (death): No one cares. Go. Have fun. He hasn’t called; he doesn’t care.

Me: Should I really? He’s just busy. He’ll call. He cares. (I always tell myself that.)

Voice (death): Don’t be a pussy. Have some balls for once. Have fun tonight and do what makes you feel good.

I leave in reckless abandonment all that I know to be right as I enter the dimly lit kitchen.

10pm: You are always here for me. I mix a concoction of juice and liquor. No matter what, I can always count on you. I listen to each tick. I await the signal of the clock to indicate the time has arrived for me to go. Death is imminent, although I don’t quite feel it yet.

10 15pm: I’ve half finished my god awful drink and hesitantly light a cigarette. This is not the first cigarette I’ve smoked since I quit. Why don’t you ever call me? If you would ever show me you care then I wouldn’t need such vices in my life. I always qualified my behavior. In that way, it isn’t my fault. It never is my fault. Addiction knows no rationality. I put the cigarette out after only being half smoked. It’s ok to smoke if you only smoke half of it. I live my life basing it on contradictions such as these.

10 30pm: Shit. I nearly lose my balance as I lean on the back two legs of my chair. My glass is still half empty. I had filled it to the top a few minutes earlier. If I never drink a full glass then I’m not really drinking that much. I take a sip.

11pm: Call me, damn it. I just want to hear your voice is all. I just want to know you’re thinking of me. Call me, damn it. The alcohol is clearly having it’s affect on me. I’m going. You don’t give a damn about me so I’ll show you.

I stagger out the door.

Midnight: Fucking asshole. I yell at the bus as it races past me without hesitation. I stand here, alone and helpless, thinking the world has forgotten me. He still hasn’t called. I still miss him terribly. Why do I go on living in a world as uncaring as this? I speak to the pigeons as if they care to hear my troubles. Deep down I desire death, when death is not around. Deep down I desire death, when death is no where to be found. I can still wait half an hour longer. You’ll keep me company, right? The pigeons coo in unison.

1am: $5? Sure. I would have spent any amount to gain entry into this den of decadence and iniquity. The lights are strobing; the music is pounding. People sway together as they are all lumped into a sea perpetual rhythm. Death is imminent, although I don’t quite feel it yet.

Are you sleeping? I text him this one and only time, partly to ease my conscience and partly out of loneliness. He doesn’t respond. My mind becomes set in thinking he hates me. My mind becomes set in thinking I’m alone. I walk from the front of the bar to the back. I smile at some, wink at others. Stupid faggots… why don’t they notice me? I convince myself that I just need another drink. I need to free myself from the shackles of shyness.

2am: Gin and tonic, please. The bartender stares at me for a minute. I can tell he knows I’ve had one too many drinks yet still he pours. I glance down at my phone. Asshole. No… no, not you. It’s… my boyfr-…oh, forget it. It doesn’t matter. He walks away. I stumble backwards.

4am: I venture out into uncharted waters this lonely god-forsaken night, jumping over water puddles, letting the curls of my hair mop up the drops of rainwater hitting my blushed face, all without the protection of the thin fabric of that small umbrella. It’s liberating. I’m free. And most importantly of all, it’s fun. At this moment, nothing else matters. At this moment, it is pure fun.

9 am: I awake with a headache, nauseas, and confused. What the fuck did I do? Lying there beside the bed, just as it had the night before and the night before that is a small dresser with a shiny brass handle. My eyes are still sleepy. “Do you want some juice?” He was in the other room when he asked. He only asked to be polite. And I imagine he doesn’t even have any juice.

I glance down at the dresser again. No thanks, I’m not thirsty. I could still taste the remnants of the half juice half gin from the night before. Again, I glance down. There on that shiny brass handle I can see my name inscribed, the contents of which I know without even opening.

I reach for door two or door three… or four… or five, as if playing a 70s game show. I groggily realize the full implications of my actions. There is no other door, there is no alternative, no choice. My final destination has been chosen already, chosen by me and that always half empty concoction of mistakes. I slowly pull open that dresser drawer of death. My fingers crawl there way to that small white bottle. My lips form the letters of the word that will forever define the life sentence placed upon me. Oh God, why me?

Oh fuck,

oh FUCK,

OH FUCK.

I scream aloud yet no one hears. I clutch that big overstuffed pillow as if it is a life preserver, as if it is my small white bottle.

On second thought, I think I will have that glass of juice. I speak to him calmly. I speak to him as if the sky were the bluest of blue, as if songbirds perpetually sing, as if the grass is always green, and the streets are lined with pearls. I stand there, my skin a façade, my heart a racehorse, my stomach a punching bag. Juice… you asked me if I wanted a glass of juice earlier… may I have some?

Perched on the Fridge

perched on the fridge

the Cat peered down

and watched

i always wondered what it was he saw

i chopped the cheese

a yellow chunk

carved into something new

he peeled the potatoes

brown skin

spiraling into the garbage

when he had finished he said he wanted more

by asking if i wanted more

i had told you already, “No,

I don’t want more.”

but again you repeated repeated re peat ed

the Cat smiled

he knew the game all too well

Drama

I’ve had it up to here (gestures with hand) with those typical queeny fags who go out to the clubs every single night. You know the kind - the ones that like to get their rocks off by gossiping and stirring up trouble. I suppose that’s why so many of them are hair stylists. What better environment to gossip than in a club and a hair salon.

To that fucker that deemed it necessary to incite problems with my boyfriend and me by making unsubstantiated and entirely untrue claims about me: I will fuck you up.

A Conversation

I recently had a conversation with someone and asked this person, “Why do you choose to be with the person you are with? There must be a reason, right?”

He answered, “I don’t really know. Emotions are hard to put into words.”

I sat for a while and thought about this unsatisfying answer. I have to disagree. If a person is unable to verbally express why it is they are pursuing a romantic relationship with another person then it seems to follow that there aren’t really any good reasons. This person has not fully thought out which specific values they desire in a partner and blindly enters into any relationship that “feels” right.

I realize that some people are not good with words but something as important as a romantic relationship warrants at least an attempt.

It made me reflect for a minute which values and qualities I desire in a man. I compiled a short (but not nearly exhaustive) list of things I want in a partner/relationship:

Trust

Honesty

Monogamy

Funny

Intellectual

Content

Satisfied

Goal-oriented

I realize that this represents the ideal man/relationship and that (unable to avoid being too cliché) not everyone is perfect. Not to say I embody all of these things, either, but that these are the things I strive to be and so should the person I choose to be with. There are (or at least should be) reasons why a person has the emotions that they do.

When confronted with the proposition that it just “feels” right and there are no reasons behind that feeling, a person should question what the motives of that individual are. Many times the emotions of being with another person are masked by a feeling of not wanting to be alone. Fear guides this person into whatever relationship is comfortable and once the “honeymoon phase” ends then there is nothing left to support the relationship.

The decision to be with another person must have reasons based on what this person values and not based simply on a “feeling.”

Fidelity

I’ve always held myself atop a pedestal in regards to the typical gay relationship. I always seriously consider the man I choose to be with. There is one thing that I hold superior to all else when it comes to a relationship - fidelity. I have never and will never cheat on my boyfriend. Monogamy is a trait I highly value and to be accused of not staying true to my man pangs my inner most being. It always hurts to be accused of something you didn’t do but in regards to something you value so highly it hurts in a way that can not be described. It is this indescribable feeling that I am experiencing tonight.

Several weeks ago I was talking to a friend of mine and made the comment that I have never cheated on any of my boyfriends to which he replied, “Really? I’ve cheated on ALL of mine.” Staying faithful to my boyfriend has never been difficult for me. When I find someone that I deeply care about I never feel the need to seek sexual gratification with another man. I fully commit myself to this individual and to the relationship. I choose to be with him and only him, not out of obligation but out of pleasure.

“A hundred times I wanted to kill myself, but still I loved life. This ridiculous weakness for living is perhaps one of our most fatal tendencies. For can anything be silier than to insist on carrying a burden one would continually much rather throw to the ground? Sillier than to feel disgust at one’s own existence and yet cling to it? Sillier, in short, than to clasp to our heart?”

“‘I’m afraid to say,’ said Candide, ‘that it’s a mania for insisting that all is well when things are going badly.’”

- Quotes from Candide

Tiara

Peter died in a paper tiara
cut from a book of princess paper dolls;
he loved royalty, sashes

and jewels. I don’t know
he said, when he woke up in the hospice,
I was watching the Bette Davis film festival

on Channel 57 and then–
At the wake, the tension broke
when someone guessed

the casket closed because
he was in there in a big wig
and heels, and someone said,

You know he’s always late,
he probably isn’t here yet –
he’s still fixing his makeup.

And someone said he asked for it.
Asked for it–
when all he did was go down

into the salt tide
of wanting as much as he wanted,
giving himself over so drunk

or stoned it almost didn’t matter who,
though they were beautiful,
stampeding into him in the simple,

ravishing music of their hurry.
I think heaven is perfect stasis
poised over the realms of desire,

where dreaming and waking men lie
on the grass while wet horses
roam among them, huge fragments

of the music we die into
in the body’s paradise.
Sometimes we wake not knowing

how we came to lie here,
or who has crowned us with these temporary,
precious stones. And given

the world’s perfectly turned shoulders,
the deep hollows blued by longing,
given the irreplaceable silk

of horses rippling in orchards,
fruit thundering and chiming down,
given the ordinary marvels of form

and gravity, what could he do,
what could any of us ever do
but ask for it?

By Mark Doty

The Intuitive Mac

I can’t believe how organized I am this semester. I finished ALL my Spanish homework for the ENTIRE week on Monday! Should I give all the credit to my über intuitive Mac? It’s hard to say whether I have just become less lazy or if the Mac has, in fact, caused my productivity to increase EXPONENTIALLY! The answer that any rational being must come to, intuitively (of course), is a combination of the two. With the end of school now visible in the distant (or not so distant) future, I’ve come to the realization that I really need to buckle down. But also, now with my new Mac all of my work is so in sync with everything else.

My absolute favorite feature of my Mac is how it intuitively knows that the words on the screen are things I need to read and therefore reads them aloud to me. I never have to read again! It’s freakin’ uncanny just how intuitive my Mac is. I bet it’s reading my mind right now as I sit here and write this and thinking of other ways to be intuitive.

I can’t wait for the new Mac OS X Leopard to debut next month. OH THE POSSIBILITIES!!! I will never have to think again thanks to the new ultra über intuitive Mac. Do I need to take a shit? Wait… let me check on my Mac and see. Do I need to cheat on my boyfriend tonight? Wait… let me check my morals… scratch that… let me check my Mac. The only way Apple can improve on this technology is to invent a way to implant the intuitive chip inside our brains so that the intuition is now a part of who we are.

Soon. Very soon.

God Hates Fags Like You

He hates those fuckin fags
their hags and prada bags
in their juicy couture
with white speckled faux fur

who’ll fuck any queer
after just a single beer

twice since easter
at least or
maybe more…
could be four
fags he’s sucked and fucked
around with
in alleys, valleys, and sally’s
boutique shop

God hates fags like you
who live life without a clue
of the dew that wets the grass
of the blue that tints the glass

that reflects a million images of you

God hates fags like you

in this way,
He and i are the same

3am: still sleepy eyed

3am: still sleepy eyed
i glance down
at that yellow daisy, still
wrapped with a bow
as i reach for the milk and spill
tiny droplets trickle down
tiny droplets trickle down

a petal withered, a petal fallen
he loves me, he loves me not

i peer out the window, the one above the sink
whose faucet drips, sometimes
when i remember to listen, sometimes

there is no moon tonight
stars lay hidden beneath a blanket of unknown
desires pulled up to chin height
darkness lies everywhere except
for the light of that shy bulb in the fridge

a petal withered, a petal fallen
he loves me, he loves me not

Untitled

Our eyes meet as the hypnotic lights flash from you to me. You look down at me from upon that pedestal above that sea of inhibitions gone awry. Your flesh sways to each pulse of the music like the slender body of a cobra being charmed.

Dare I come close?

Dare I stay away?

You glide across the floor with the gait of a ballet dancer. You make the music yours, each note, each beat, each rhythm transforming to match each step of your foot. You grab my hand, caressing it slowly, pulling me towards you.

Dare I take the fall?

Dare I dance alone?

I reach out grasping a hand not knowing whether it be yours or mine as our bodies converge into a single mass of emotion. This moment it is right. This moment is ours. I needn’t look into your sweet expressions of innocence to know that you are the one, even if only for tonight. I pull your delicate body close to mine as the night melds into a euphoric blur.

Never been much into...

Generou$ hosting now… Do you play for pay?

Cum on over, I’ve got a gloryhole in my apt…

Cover your face, close your eyes

PNP for M4M… just another NSA, one night stand

I wade around in a sea of acronyms…

Surrounded by queens and queers

Straight-acting, fems, bitches, and “daddies”

I have a dad… thank you very much

Bears scare me; cubs are adorable

They laughed when I said

I just saw one at the zoo

JK… LOL

JK… LOL

A Light Flickers

a light flickers

rocks sit motionless

to be

never been much help to me

the intrinsic nature of the sun

it shines

not always been that bright

to me

the light still flickers and the rock still sits

i stand

sometimes half way

on that rock

under the light

where the sun shines not so bright

bit by bit

with my feathers fanned

i say

turn the lock

i’ve fought the fight

Untitled

I walk in through a door not made of wood. I return. I had traveled here once before now returning again to the empty, soul depriving nourishment my body so craves. It is oddly familiar yet entirely new. There are no walls, no ceiling or floor. I find the perimeters to be only fenced off by the horizons. I enter into a land where conversations lined with lust-filled desires await. I come with the anticipation of the end of something great…and so, I prepare myself. I don the battle gear of lessons learned, of hopes lost, of desires unfulfilled.

I dip a toe in the flesh lined pool only to feel the cold sting of each cold-hearted gesture. I pause. I walk. To and fro, I go from one to the next as if sifting through a file cabinet of years passed. I shred the old out-dated dusty files, pass over the newly acquired files, put some aside to look over later. I glance at some, read others over carefully.

“It must be here somewhere,” I say aloud just needing to hear the voice of a sound mind.

In the craziness of this world I often find myself needing to hear the voice of a man….and so I speak. I ramble on and on while browsing through the fruit section, discuss the weather while waiting for a bus, shout gestures in disgust of war while maintaining the imbalance of life. In each insipid conversation spewing from these lips, each banal remark emanating from this mind, I know that there is so much more out there for me to discover.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Waz up?”

Each salutation becomes increasingly desperate and pathetic as I journey onward. But I continue on this path lined not with flowers but with disappointments. Each disappointment has, to my surprise, proven to be a blessing in disguise. As unpoetic as it may be, as odd as it may sound, through the despondency of it all I have become a livelier being. I still have hope and it is that hope that drives me forward. It is that hope of something new, of something great, of something never before felt that propels me into this land of emptiness where words are meaningless and selfish flattery abound.

The ground is lined with pebbles and as I shuffle my feet I watch them shoot out in all directions. I look at each pebble, each one being unique and beautiful in its own way but there is one that stands out from the rest. I slowly stoop down to gaze at this pebble that magnanimously embodies the destination this soul seeks. The sun radiates ever so gently upon it so that when I reach to touch, sensations of warmth envelop my entire being. A calmness overcomes this tired body of mine and for once in my life I can say I feel at peace.

Solitary Confinement

half empty whiskey bottles

cigarette butts strewn about

like candy wrappers

ashes fall like snow

another drink another drag

each sweet choking inhalation

a pat on the back a slap in the face

fulfilling its purpose

one hand shakes the other

solitary confinement

There and Back Again

I arrived to Tulsa on Thursday morning.

Surprisingly, before hand in Chicago I was able to check-in, get through security, and find my gate in well under an hour which is good seeing as how I only arrived at the airport an hour before departure. I can say that there are no attractive people flying at 7AM.

Much to my delight (and surprise) my flight from O’hare left on time. There was an unfortunate mother seated in front of me enjoying some pre-flight entertainment, namely, her daughter’s digested remnants of breakfast. It’s always nice to have a reminder of why I have no desire to have children of my own. The seat next to mine was empty. With my face in my hand I enjoyed falling asleep rather quickly as I listened to some of my favorite music.

I am always so shocked as to how incredibly small the airport at Tulsa is. The last time I arrived to Tulsa I deboarded the plane by the step ladder type things they use only in third world countries. But because of its small size it is always easy to navigate.

“Is that her,” I thought as I walked to the area where people were waiting to greet the arriving passengers.

I looked closer, unsure whether to wave or smile or what. I couldn’t determine if that girl standing over there was my sister or not. It might seem odd to some that someone who I lived with for the majority of my life was almost unrecognizable to me. She looked different. Each feature that had defined her before had changed just ever so slightly so that when combined together they formed someone entirely different…

…or perhaps it was just I who had changed.

It happened again. I was waiting at the carousel awaiting the arrival of my luggage….and waiting…and waiting. Without fail, my bags have managed not to make it on my flight with me. The exact same thing happened last Christmas when I came home. Once my bags finally do arrive to Tulsa they have a special messenger service to deliver them to my house. Seeing as how I live 60 miles from Tulsa, apparently I am not a big priority for American Airlines as I am waiting until 2AM Friday morning to receive my bags. Some things just never change.

My sister has a boyfriend and he accompanied her to go and pick me up. He is nice (and boyishly cute). They spend a lot of time together. She is only 19 and he is only 16 but on more than one occasion I have heard them say I love you to each other. I love you?? When I was only 16 I had no idea what love is. I think this is a perfect example of how easily this phrase is used/overused.

Still, love seems to be all around. My two uncles and their wives are home. Everyone is coupled with someone else. It’s great to be able to spend the holiday with my family but it always feels like something is missing. I don’t have that special person to wake up next to on Christmas morning or to experience all the great things Christmas makes us feel.

I spent the day at my grandma’s house on Friday. My parents were working the entire day so I used it to spend time catching up. My grandma is always such a delight to visit as all grandmas are. I just love looking at all the projects she has done throughout the year. Interior design is definitely her true calling. Stepping inside her home is like stepping back in time; things are a bit simpler. Everything is homemade.

Prior to my arrival I had made plans with my grandma to teach me how to knit. We sat down together and she showed me the basic stitches. We made jokes. We laughed. It was truly a great time. It is memories such as these that I will always cherish. It is difficult to put into words the immense love I have for my family.

As I was leaving that night I looked up. It caught me by surprise. I always somehow forget how beautiful the night sky is here. The skies were clear making it a perfect star gazing night. My breath was visible as I breathed a sigh. Such a beautiful night should not be wasted spent alone I thought. Each star shone so bright and with each twinkle I imagined him next to me, the him I have only dreamed about, the him that would have made this night perfect.

Seeing as how my town has only 6,000 inhabitants, public transportation is nonexistent. I had forgotten how much I enjoy driving a manual transmission. In order to go anywhere it requires driving. In fact, since I have been here I don’t think I have seen anyone walking!

My uncle and aunt and their family and my other uncle and aunt came down late Friday night after I had left. I stopped by and spent the afternoon catching up with them on Saturday. Although bullheaded, my uncle Dave is a very smart, interesting, fun person to talk to. He is very into fitness and health and he was the most “impressed” with finding out that I have become vegetarian as opposed to my other uncle Joe who thinks I have become a hippie! Joe is a fun guy but very narrow minded as was proved when he asked me, “Have you ever seen a healthy looking vegetarian?”

Sunday we all went to church together. I had forgotten just how much I love going to church. I hadn’t been in such a long time. The members from my church are always so nice. They were glad to see me and asked me all the typical questions. “How is Chicago? Are you still there? How’s the weather up there?” I love listening to my mom, a soprano, and sister, an alto, sing. They have such beautiful voices. Hearing my mom sing is so comforting and brings back so many wonderful memories. That is how I imagine an angel would sing.

I got rave reviews about my new hair I was sporting while I was down. I was so surprised at how well everyone liked it (or at least the ones who didn’t like it maintained their silence). One day my aunt told me I look like someone who just stepped out of the magazines. I smiled. Isn’t it wonderful being beautiful?! Then the next day I was sitting on the couch with my sister and the same aunt came over and was talking and she said to my sister, “Doesn’t your brother look like a model?” She is too kind!

As usual my sister awoke extremely early on Christmas day. Christmas is the one day of the year that she can wake up pre-dawn no matter what time she had gone to bed the night before. It is such an odd peculiarity, one most would consider child-like. I was of course the last to awake. I relish the days that I am allowed to sleep-in. I was able to take three days off from work this year and combined with the weekend and Christmas day I was off for a combined six days!

We all gathered around together in the living room and began opening gifts. There were few. I gave one to my mom and one to my sister. Prior to arriving home I had decided to wait to buy something for my dad until I could go somewhere with my mom so she could help me pick something out. My dad is extremely difficult to shop for. Each day rapidly progressed from one the other and before I knew it it was Christmas Eve and I hadn’t bought anything! He had told me not to buy him anything and just the fact that I was home was enough of a gift but I still wanted to at least give him a little something. For all practical reasons I elected to receive money rather than gifts from my parents. My sister still loves receiving gifts.

I had found my mom’s gift at the Pier 1 that was going out of business in boystown. It was such a large gift that I had wondered how I was going to get it home. I finally decided to just put it in a box and check it in with the luggage. My roommate had just received a foot massager and I decided that I could make my mom’s gift fit in the box. I taped it up good and it survived the flight rather well.

I telephoned my roommate Christmas day to wish him well. He asked me about the box that I used. Come to find out, the gift that my roommate had received was meant to be regifted! Now he was stuck with it!

After opening gifts I popped in an Indian movie much to the dismay of the rest of my family. I brought three of them to watch while I was down and only managed to see one. Although my dad won’t admit it, I know he was getting into it as the movie progressed. As usual, I enjoyed every minute of it!

We finally made our way, my mom, dad, and I (my sister had left immediately after opeing gifts) to grandma’s house for Christmas dinner. When I arrived, I opened the gifts from my grandparents and my two uncles. They have absolutely no clue as to what I might enjoy for Christmas but that doesn’t matter really. Whether they gave me anything or not would have no significance to me. I only come home to spend time with them, visit, and relax.

Dinner was fabulous. Everyone always makes something for the dinner. I make asparagus. My mom makes dressing. My aunt makes dinner rolls. My grandma puts everything else together. There seems to always be an enormous amount of food but very little left over. Everything tasted sooo good. I miss home-cooking a lot. But I realized something this time when I was down. Home cooked food is great but it’s the relationships you have with people doing the home-cooking that makes it taste all that much better. It’s the time spent in the kitchen while everyone is busy cooking, laughing, and joking around that makes food home-cooked.

After dinner, with everyone now doubled in size, we took the usual post dinner naps. My granddad was the first to conk out on the recliner. Everyone else then followed as if they had practiced it all year. I guess this is where I get my superior sleeping skills. I can sleep no matter what if I want to and so can pretty much the rest of my family. We all slept for at least a couple hours and then woke up to eat more!

Later that night my friends from high school were having a get together. It had been years since I’d seen some of them. They were still the same. I guess not much changes when you stay in the same the place you have been your entire life. You see the same people everyday who hold the same values and ideas. Very little change is likely to occur. We all played games for a few hours that night and laughed and visited with each other. It was a nice time and it was nice to see them all again.

I couldn’t believe it but the next day is Tuesday. My time with my family has already come and gone. It went by so incredibly fast. This was one of the best Christmas’ I’ve had. I think the more time I spend away from my family the more I cherish each visit home.

After I left my friends, I went back to say my goodbyes to my grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. It was sad having to say goodbye. I hugged my grandma as tears began to fill my eyes. I hate saying goodbye. I didn’t cry because it seems silly. After all, I will see them again.

My mom and sister drove me to the airport on Tuesday afternoon. We said goodbye in the airport and off I was back to my life in Chicago.

Moving - Memories

Tonight, as I was packing my things up to move, my mind was littered with opposing emotions. This was my first home in Chicago, the first place that felt like home since I moved away from home, a place where I could detach myself from the outside world, my sanctuary. This is the place where I have entertained friends and spent nights cuddled up under a blanket watching TV.

I will never forget all the memories I have made here. I will never forget the pork roast dinner I cooked, the night we painted my blue wall, or “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” that we read together while holding each other. Nor will I forget the last dinner we shared on that round kitchen table and the not quite satisfying good-bye.

As I leave this place, I am not only saying good-bye to the place that has sheltered me but also to the memories I cherish most. I will still have the memories but just like I am changing dwellings, I too am moving away from these memories. With each day that passes in this new place of mine, I will slowly forget about this place I once lived. The memories too will slowly fade until they are but a dot from the past. This scares me. And even though I am excited to move to this nice new place, it saddens me to leave.

As I lay here for the last time in my cozy bed, in my painted then repainted room, in the place where I could escape from everything, I listen to the one song that always brings me comfort. But with each mountain in spring time, with each walk in the rain, with each storm in the desert, with each sleepy blue ocean, a tear gently rolls from the corner of my eye and trickles down.

…a song that will never be just a song, an apartment that will never be just an apartment, and a friend who will never be just a friend.

And so tomorrow, I leave…

Lessons of Love

Tonight I was thinking back on past relationships. And I’ve had some really great ones, in fact, all of my past relationships (and by relationships I am talking about when you feel like this is the person you are going to spend the rest of your life with) were really great….sure, there were rough times but rough times accompany every aspect of life.

And so, I thought I would share some of the many things I have learned from them…

If it didn’t work out the first time, then more often than not it won’t work out the second time for the exact same reasons it didn’t work out the first time.

Don’t be too proud to listen and learn.

Once trust is gone from a relationship, it will cease to be what it was before. You might say you trust this person again but there is always that small sliver of doubt in your mind.

If you love someone, never be afraid to say it.

In the very beginning you know. There is always something that tells you that this is the one. Without even fully knowing this person you know that he is meant for you.

Don’t try to be someone you’re not. Losing yourself in order to gain a boyfriend is the worst kind of self-mutilation.

The feeling you get when you’re in love has no equal.

Candide Quotes

Favorite quotes from Candide:

“A hundred times I wanted to kill myself, but still I loved life. This ridiculous weakness for living is perhaps one of our most fatal tendencies. For can anything be silier than to insist on carrying a burden one would continually much rather throw to the ground? Sillier than to feel disgust at one’s own existence and yet cling to it? Sillier, in short, than to clasp to our heart?”

“But human nature in its pure state is good after all, since these people, instead of eating me, were all sweetness and light the minute they knew I wasn’t a Jesuit.”

“‘We don’t pray to God,’ said the good and worthy sage. ‘We have nothing to ask him for. He has given us all we need, and we never cease to thank him.’”

“‘I’m afraid to say,’ said Candide, ‘that it’s a mania for insisting that all is well when things are going badly.’”

“‘Do you think’, said Candide, ‘that men have always massacred each other the way they do now? that they’ve always been liars, cheats, traitors, ingrates, brigands? that they’ve always been feeble, fickly, envious, gluttonous, drunken, avaricious, ambitious, blood-thirsty, slanderous, debauched, fanatical, hypocritical, and stupid?’ / ‘Do you think’, said Martin, ‘that hawks have always eaten pigeons when they find them?’ / ‘Yes, no doubt,’ said Candide. / ‘Well, then,’ said Martin, ‘if hawks have always had the same character, why do you expect me to have changed theirs?’ / ‘Oh!’ said Candide, ‘there’s a big difference, because free will…’”

“Your presence will restore me to life, or make me die of pleasure.”

“All is but illusion and calamity.”

“Fools admire everything in a respected author.”

“I might have got on better with his philisophical works, but when I saw that he doubted everything, I decided that I knew as much as he did, and that I didn’t need anyone else’s help if I was going to be ignorant.”

“Work keeps us from the three great evils: boredom, vice, and need.”

Switching Back

When I first started a blog it was hosted by blogger. I then switched to wordpress because it seemed to have more features. Once again, I am switching back to blogger! Gosh, I can't seem to make up my mind!