rehash hash

Too often lately this blog just seems like a place I come to vent and whine about how hard I've got it. I know that, compared to real problems, I don't really have it that bad, but it's also hard not to feel your own shit is so much worse than most people's. I'm not really covering any new ground here, and I'm certain I've said all of this before, probably a few times. If you find halfway through this post that you've read it all before then, by all means, click away. It's more for me anyway than for you, a little catharsis to go along with my morning (afternoon) coffee.

In my last post I mentioned feeling stuck. I've felt this way for years, as if I was never going to see anything but these same four walls closing in on me.

A little over four years ago Momma was offered a chance to move up at the sushi bar at which she worked. The owner was willing to give her a raise and to allow her to get overtime, but she would need to be available whatever hours she was needed, and to make it work I would have to stop working.

A year or two previously I'd lost what I consider to be the best job I've ever had as well as the best chance I've ever had to place myself in a position to maintain a high level of employment in the field I've fallen into, restaurants.

I was kitchen manager at a local pizza restaurant, a place I truly believed in and loved working for, a place I was willing to work hard to help grow better. The owners had built a small three store chain with our store and their first two stores in the Carolinas. They actually lived in North Carolina and had grown tired of dealing with our store, so they sold it to a local guy who owns way too many restaurants himself. Within a month of his takeover I was out, given a laundry list of bullshit reasons I was leaving, leaving me to believe that I just didn't fit in his future plans for the place.

Since losing that job I was back to the usual, working somewhere for a few months until either I or them grew tired of each other, and I'd move on to the next restaurant. Then Momma got her deal, so I quit working. The plan was supposed to involve me working with the boys' homeschooling and have more time to write, the thing I've always sort of felt I wanted to do but without ever actually doing.

Things were sort of smooth, or so they seemed to me, but they were never good for me. Momma took advantage of her freedom and began going out a lot more than I realized, and at some point I started to get the feeling that things were not what I thought in relation to the amount of time she spent away from the house. Over the next two years, the two people in her life that I had a feeling were more than friends turned out to be exactly what I thought.

Now to add a wrinkle we throw in the gay. I knew I was gay and wanted a good way out of this relationship, a way to finally be free to be gay. I almost wished that Momma would fuck up somehow and give me the opening I wanted, and eventually she did. I'd spent years pretending to be her loving straight husband, knowing that for me to come out would begin so much pain and hurt, and I just couldn't do it. I don't know to make her understand the hurt I still feel, hurt that I took on and hurt that I gave out.

And now, things should be better. I almost have the freedom I need, and she has all the freedom she needs and more. She has a place to live and a boyfriend and a good job. I have a sofa in her living room and a new job. I still don't reasonably have my freedom in a useful way, and I'm stuck. She still gets to go out and have fun and enjoy herself. I took a paper bag full of pennies to the grocery store to feed into the coin machine so that I could have a tiny bit of money in my pocket.

She has been mostly understanding and extremely helpful, but at the same time she hasn't been as understanding as I would like, and her help is starting to feel like charity. Accepting her help feels like constantly having to admit my own failure when in fact I'm in the place I am because I ate shit for years, forced myself to accept a role that was entirely wrong for me in order to help her and save her from having to feel the hurt that I accepted was my own.

And I'm still waiting, and I know for a fact that I will likely be still here, still waiting, still frustrated for the next several months. It will be at least a month (the one with Christmas in it no less) until I even begin to get myself to a financially stable place. After catching up with some bills/debts I will then need another couple of months of saving money to attempt to find my own place to live, and that is a whole other scary, looming beast on my horizon, being on my own for the first time.

I've been patient. I've been patient with Momma and with circumstances and with feeling frustrated and depressed and anxious. I'm so fucking tired of being patient. I'm so tired of watching good happen for so many people while I sit patiently and wait for my turn to get what I need. And what do I see waiting for me? What does my near future hold in store? The knowledge that my only option is remaining patient, eating shit and taking all of this frustration onto myseself. Pretty much where I've been for years, doing pretty much exactly as I have for years.

the grind

Last night was lots of washing dishes. I watched one of the cooks as he prepared a couple of items, and I joined him on the line at one point and made some salads. I've picked up the few salads so far, or seem to have. It's pretty easy that way.

There was plenty of prep to do as I walked in the door, but it was mostly easy stuff. I started a couple of things that got taken over and took over a couple of things as I needed to. I washed lots of dishes.

Tonight is not only our town's Santa parade, but it's also First Friday and the new job is located well for the artsy thing that that is. I'm sure someone is playing at the theater, but I couldn't tell you. Plans call for tonight to be busy, so that'll be fun.

Oh yeah, I also feel stuck in this house, and I don't really feel like I can move forward if I can't get out of here. And I can't get out of here. I'm starting to feel like I've extended every courtesy and can't get a response I want, and I wouldn't be surprised if Momma said the same.

Like anything, I need to learn to enjoy the good and deal with the bad. I do finally have a job, though I won't see a check for a week. It'll be another two weeks before I see a full paycheck and it will be however many months of still being stuck in this house with little in the way of options.

and we're back

Just like that, the pendulum swings past that damned mid point, that place it kept not getting past.

As I put clean clothes over a body that needed a shower today, I heard my phone ringing. My phone was attached to the charger and was at the other end of the house, and I actually missed the same call twice in a short amount of time.

I rushed through the house, pulling jeans up, stuffing boxers down into place, my pant legs dragging because I hadn't even taken the time to roll them up. I missed the second call by seconds.

Checking my missed calls I find a number I don't recognize. I call them and the phone is answered by a business, a restaurant at which I've applied for a job. I explain that I'm returning a missed call and am asked to hold for (name withheld.) I talk to this person whose name I have no reason to associate with anyone given the nature of the call, though it's a name I have reason to assume could be put to a face, some face neither I nor Momma can even begin to imagine remembering, and then as we're talking he asks if I'm the person by my name married to a person by Momma's name.

As it turns out, I "interview" with a person to whom I once gave a job, a person I once "interviewed." I place the scare quotes for two different reasons. In the first instance of the use it is because the interview basically involved me showing up as who I am and being willing to accept the job. In the second case I use scare quotes because, when I interviewed and hired people, my interviews were . . . I don't know how to describe it.

I was reminded recently of an interview that ended up in my hiring the candidate. He is now somewhat kitchen manager of the pizza place at which I hired him. He remembers the interview as being mostly:

Me: You smoke?

Him: Yyyyeeaaahhh . . .?

Me: Good, 'cuz I need a cigarette. Let's go over here.

Followed by random bullshit conversation.

So, I now have a job. I make food. I washed a lot of dishes tonight, and I didn't mind it a bit. It's what I do. I'm actually happy to be there I'm pretty sure. And looking out our front door I can see people ice skating. When I went to get the trash cans I saw the Cute Ex sitting with a girl and a guy. Of course I'm sure it's the guy he dumped me for, but I barely cared.

While I barely cared I'm still irritated. Of course the initial pissiness is the whole he-totally-lied-to-me-oh-my-god-boys-suck sort of thing, nevermind the fact that I have no reason to believe either that the guy is or is not anything at all in relation to the person in the equation with whom I now have history (Cute Ex.) The second wave of aggravation was at my own inability to push this thing out of my head. I should write a song called The First Boyfriend Blues and make a mint on the gay country circuit, if there is such.

I also wiped out rounding a corner. The floor had just been mopped, and the tile doesn't belong in a kitchen. But I'll learn to take the corners slowly, and I'll remember to walk in the particular kitchen way that minimizes slipping to your doominess sort of falls, and all will be well.

ramen and saltines

Lately my moods have swung more wildly than a . . . okay, the swing is more like a . . . at least try to read through the whine to the good part, and try to accept that, by the end, I'm attempting to laugh at myself.

On one side of the pendulum swing is absolute bleah, anxiety, feelings of worthlessness and seeing the universe as one giant asshole constantly shitting on me and laughing maniacally the entire time. I don't know what is on the other extreme of the swing, because the pendulum never seems to swing all the way to the other side. It hits some midpoint of meh and comes back to the shitting on me part.

I know that this isn't the truth of the matter. I know that I'm just in a bad place right now, but nothing really seems to help. All around me it seems like everyone is partying and laughing and having a great time, and it's hard to remember that I'm not the only one with issues. Hell, it's hard to remember that my issues aren't even that seriously serious in the larger scheme of things.

But that's sort of the kind of person I am. I'm not a glass half empty kind of guy, though it would seem I am. I'm more of a "who the fuck has been drinking out of my glass?" kind of guy. I can find the negative in anything. If I won the lottery I'd likely find something to bitch about. That's the sort of person I am.

I do have an interview in a couple of days for a job I'm already assuming I will hate, but I refuse to see it that way. At least I refuse to act as though I see it that way. I'll walk in in nice clothes and a smile. It's not cooking, and that will be a huge step for me, not necessarily up or down so much as just a step.

So, having bitched quite enough, I should think of things that are good. My feet are cold, but my house is warm enough and dry enough and has food in it. I can wash my clothes even if I do wear them for three days straight because it just doesn't seem worth the effort to shower if all I'm going to do is sit on my ass until the next available day to search for a job I probably won't get. Momma keeps buying me beer, and honestly, if you knew me, you'd probably buy my silence with a twelve pack too, though it is of the High Life variety and not the micro brews I so richly deserve. The tobacco I've been buying is apparently not supposed to be as cheap as I've been paying, so I'm back to having to die slowly because of a slightly less enjoyable brand, so the fact that I got to smoke a higher quality for the wrong and lower price should be good for something. Momma gave me a pair of her underwear, and honestly they weren't very flattering on her at all, but they don't look bad on me, and they aren't as girly as you probably imagine, and add to this the gay thing, and I do look good in them. That and three quarters will turn the air compressor on at the gas station for what it's worth.

So I do have things that are good in my life. The kids are terrors, as kids are want to be, but I love them, and I'm working toward being cool with them. With any luck the beer I just spilled on the keyboard won't fuck it up any more than it already is, and since it doesn't seem to be already fucked up one can assume it isn't, but I think we all know how bad situations wait till we aren't looking, so I'm sure it's about to short circuit and send electricity coursing through my body.

Oh, and I went to the weekly gay men's meeting finally. It's a weekly thing at the local UU church, and I was one of the youngest people there. It was a nicely bland evening of not being the only gay person in the room. I plan to return the next time it happens, perhaps even becoming a regular if it seems to meet a need, though I'd rather meet my gay people in a less boring environment. Of course the gay bar sees me drunk and nervous, so I should probably just be cool with bland for now.

I think that may in fact be all I can come up with for tonight. I was worried that the poor ol' blog was suffering withdrawals because I haven't sent any bitch filled missives onto the internets lately. I wanted to post but had nothing to say, so I said it anyway, and now you've read it. I hope it didn't bring you down, and I hope you return for more. Better yet I hope I return for more and have something to say next time.

I like it when they touch

First be warned that this is not safe for kids, and depending on where you work it may also be unsafe there. And I doff my cap in thanks to Mike of Mike Says, because I'm totally stealing this from him. It's funny enough that it needs to be shared and shared again.

world AIDS day

Today is World AIDS Day, and if I'm the one introducing you to this then you should spend less time under your rock.

Perhaps one of the scariest aspects of AIDS today is the fact that we seem to have come to a place where we don't recognize it as the deadly disease that it is. Too many people are still dying of AIDS, but it just doesn't seem to be the looming danger we remember from years past.

I'm still unsure of my place in so many places, and whatever this thing called the gay community is is still so new to me. AIDS is not new, though I have to admit I barely remember those days in the '80's when we first heard about AIDS.

I remember it being this thing that we suddenly started hearing about, this thing for which there was no cure, that killed whoever it touched. Then suddenly it was a disease that gay men got, and suddenly it didn't seem that big a deal. It was understandable as something that "those people" got, were likely responsible for, probably they were deserving. Yes, that's how I was raised, and there is still some amount of that attitude in too many closed minds.

I can't really do this topic justice. It hasn't touched me like it has so many others, but it's a fear I live with. I truly believe that it's only a matter of time before it does touch me somehow.

I can't really do this topic justice, so I'm sending you to Doc's blog.

a talk with the wife

I totally hate having feelings all of the sudden. I don't all of the sudden hate it, but all of the sudden I have feelings, and I hate it

Momma and I finally got a chance to hang out and drink too much beer and talk. She's been so far up her boyfriend's ass lately that she and I haven't had a lot of time. And with my unemployment and boyfriend free status, I have had lots of time. I've also needed someone to talk to. We just never got our two way wristwatch radios synced.

Something else I'll admit. I don't have a lot of friends. I don't think I ever have, but lately it's really been fucking with me. I have a habit of being a douche bag, sort of a defensive wall kind of thing. I put people in their place before they have a chance to hurt me.

I need to tear that wall down. I need to let people in. There's a bit of a problem with that. I'm gay. Boys don't make sense to me, and most girls just don't see the friend I could be. I could be friends with boys, but I don't get what the hell they're talking about most of the time, and I just don't care what the score of the game was most of the time. Girls? Well, most of them have had enough of boys to last a lifetime, so why would they even imagine that a boy could be a friend?

Tomorrow needs to be the first day of the rest of my life. I have a lot of work that I need to do. Among the things Momma and I covered is that I don't really like myself very much, and that has led and continues to lead to any number of other issues.

We talked about all sorts of shit, and we were even able to get into her life a little bit. It was fun and nice and stuff, but I also realized I need to let go a little bit. It's part of my friend issue.

But . . .

First I need to work on my relationship with the boys. They need more attention than I've been willing to give them. I've felt like shit so much lately, and I've tended, to some extent, to take it out on them. Because I get so absolutely nothing in the way of what I need I end up cutting myself off from them, not giving them what they need. That's more a variation of the truth, but it gets to the core of the problem.

That's the place I've known I needed to start. That's the beginning of what I need to work on. That first step is the hardest, knowing that my ultimate goal is a complete change in the way I've been living and parenting. They are worth the effort, but can I pull my head out of my butt long enough to start doing right finally?

those fags

It's not what people say.

It isn't even a little bit what they do.

sometimes . . .

Some times, it's just as simple as knowing you are the only fag there.

You can see and feel a pressure that probably isn't even there. Everyone at the thing you're attending has been nothing but cool.

But they don't know that you're gay. You know, and some of the people you know there know. But not everyone does.

And you don't know who's cool and who's a douche, waiting for any reason at all to damn you or whatever. They don't know.

So why should they care?

Sometimes it's just that simple.

It's as simple as being the only fag there.

And knowing that you are the only fag there.

Sometimes it's just that simple.

And sometimes it hurts.

darkness on the face of the earth

I tried to find Willie Nelson's version of this song which he does on the album Teatro. It's a damn fine song, especially when you're feeling depressed and need songs like this to really drive the point home.

Don't listen to me, because I'm back in the dark hole that seems to be my default setting, but do listen to the song. The video isn't worth watching really unless you need a bunch of pictures of Hawkshaw Hawkins, so feel free to play the video and then open another window to do something else in while it plays.

want not need?

In an earlier blog post I mentioned the shindig from last night, the roller girl picture takin' calendar makin'.

As I also mentioned, it was Momma's idea that I go, get out of the house, see some friends, all of the above and more. Her boyfriend came to the house to pick her up as they had already planned to go, and then she was going home with him. I had the boys, and they are friends with the son of the person whose house we went to, and I'm friendly with the roller girls that have been around a while, though I don't really know the new ones.

Perhaps another blog post could be about the minus-the-derby I've been almost feeling. I'm no longer announcing, and the video I filmed for the big two day event three months ago still sits in the camera in my floor. I feel as if the video thing was just throwing me a bone so I'd feel better about having the announcing taken away since no one has bothered to even ask for it back. And now, with the whole not essentialy married to a roller girl I'm not nearly as involved, not even going to practices. It's kind of like this whole big thing was taken away, but I still don't know how to feel.

But I digress, and now I should figure out if there's a point to this post. Oh yeah, the hanging out.

So Momma was there, but she wasn't there with me. I was there, but I wasn't there with her. It still feels weird, and it's sort of a sign that I sort of need to make my own friends. She and I are still really close, and there's really only one other person that I'm even close to being as close to. There's one other person that I honestly feel I can be that open around.

Me being open about stuff is sort of a rare occurence. Cute Ex was just barely getting to the point where I was starting to feel like I might get comfortable enough with, and the majority of anything like really opening up I did with him involved him being bothered by something and me having to attempt to explain it without being as honest as I maybe should have. Even now, after all we've been through, I still am afraid to really be honest with Momma.

It's good, I think, that I can feel this not-with-her sort of thing when we are at the same place. It has to be, and it's part of my journey to being me, which is something else I'm realizing lately. I have to figure out how to be me without having someone. For too long I've basically judged myself by how I reflect off of Momma and then the Cute Ex. That line makes sense in my head, so I hope it conveys my meaning. I tend to define myself by who I'm with and need to get to the whole "I don't need a man to make me happy/feel complete."

Now the problem gets back to who am I? What do I want to be when I grow up? I'm sort of starting to feel like I'm running out of time. I'm not getting any younger, and being an unemployed line cook with an expertise in fryer and Ceaser salads isn't really paying the bills or helping me focus.

party girl?

Moses at his blog, The Faithful Penguin, believes that the Typealyzer is somewhat accurate in portraying him as a thinker. The Typealyzer claims to be able to take a peek into your blog and tell the type of blog it is.

Being a sucker for someone telling me they can use sciencey sounding words to tell me about me, and needing (hoping) to hear good things about myself from others, I thought it was at least worth a chance. Given that Moses seems like a smart guy, and since he claims the Typealyzer isn't completely bogus, I felt it was time to run the ol' Desk Full through the grading machine.

My type? ESFP-the performers, and according to the machine:

The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves.

They enjoy work that makes them able to help other people in a concrete and visible way. They tend to avoid conflicts and rarely initiate confrontation - qualities that can make it hard for them in management positions.

I suppose it's not entirely wrong. I honestly don't know if I can or should argue it much at all, but at the same time my life and brain in are in a period of what I'll call flux for lack of a better word. Without bringing up the whole closeted-and-married-then-accepting-of-gay story all over again beyond the reminder of where I'm coming from, I am currently learning a lot of stuff about me.

As a bit of proof of the constantly learning things part I'll relate a quick anecdote. Momma went last night to the home of a derby friend. They were taking some pictures and working on putting together a calendar to use as a fundraiser. I was a little down and mopey, so she suggested I come along and hang out. One of the jammers was getting ready for some pictures. She's tiny, very pretty, has what I'll call Asian features (white dad, Phillipine mom) has just a delightful sexy and girly figure. I found myself being maybe a little jealous, like maybe I wanted to be tiny and hot and have all the boys bumping into walls and tripping over themselves trying to stare at me. I'm not really sure where it came from, and I'm not bothered by it. It's something to ponder at least, and it's not something I think I've ever really thought of before.

So maybe I am at least partially a party girl. Maybe I do like pretty things. Hell, maybe I want to be pretty some times. Okay, maybe not pretty as such nor entirely not.

marryin' gays

Over the years, whenever I've discussed marriage equality, I've been more than willing to admit what I'm sure will happen once we are finally given that right. Perhaps you've read what I've written and seen my predictions come true.

If gay people are legally allowed to marry then Nazi tyrannosaurs will erupt out of the earth, and they will go an a rampage and destroy the earth and kill everyone with their deadly laser eyes.

Blogger Sean Braisted apparently disagrees. Go visit his blog, Nashville 21 to find out what he thinks will happen, then feel free to comment back here and tell me whose vision you find more likely.

hat tip to R. Neal at Knox Views for the intro to Mr. Braisted and his sadly mistaken

lifestyle?

There's a phrase that always bothers me when I hear or read it. It's a phrase, really a single word, that is often used to describe us gay people. It's belittling and demeaning to what it means to be gay.

"Gay lifestyle." It's a reduction of this thing that is me to a mere choice, as if I'm living in a way that can be reasonably and accurately compared to whether someone enjoys UT football to the extent that they purchase orange clothes and seriously debate the merits of Fulmer's resignation.

If asked I don't think I could accurately describe what I'd consider my lifestyle. I don't think I have ever fallen into what one might think of as normal, though I certainly do things and there are certainly aspects of my life that could be described as such. I'm in my mid thirties, have two children, live in the suburbs, own a car and a truck (though the truck probably deserves its own complaint riddled post) have a dog, etc.

All of this of course begs questions that I'm sure the majority of gay people ask themselves at some point. Is my gayness no more or less than a sexual issue? Studies have given us good reason to believe that sexuality and the brain and gender issues are more interwoven that one might previously have thought, though I imagine many gay people could have told you that without scientific studies.

I believe that being gay manifests itself in numerous ways, ways that I never realized before when I so actively denied my sexuality. I believe it's more than the fact that I find guys attractive if impossible to make sense of. I also believe it asserts itself in ways that are generally invisible even to me.

Being gay is not a lifestyle, whether or not there are ways of being and living that are more gay than not. Lifestyles are made up of choices we make, and being gay is not a choice that we make. The only choices I've ever made in regard to my sexuality is the choice many years ago to begin denying it and live in the closet and the choice more recently of exiting that closet and beginning to try to understand myself.

about little

Whenever I happen to notice the number of posts I've published since beginning the ol' Desk Full blog I wonder exactly how many of those are drafts. For whatever reason, Blogger counts unpublished drafts when it tells you how many posts you have. I've never known how many actual posts I've published because, before moments ago, I never bothered to find out.

Now I know. I clicked on the drafts button to learn that I had only five total, some from the beginning of 2006. After giving them all at least a cursory glance I've deleted all but one, and that one is about robots. I don't remember what exactly made me start that one, but it's the one I kept. Maybe in a day or two I'll check back in and thing about thinking about it.

This is a fairly pointless post. Of the 700+ things I've posted it's not really any more or less pointless than probably half of them. It is what it is though, and thankfully it's not whining about boy trouble. Don't despair though as I'm sure there's another one of those, if not many more, in the future.

like morton's salt?

And with this post Cute Boyfriend makes his exit from this blog, and I figure out what I do next. I won't go into the whole story, but it did involve a couple of different reasons and me wondering if one of those is the real reason or if there's something he's not saying.

Add to the list of issues I already have that it will be a while before I feel like I can trust anyone again. This relationship started so well, and even my kids were involved. I hate that they became friends with CB to the extent that they did, because his exit involves them as well. I won't let this happen again.

After everything seems to have settled down, after I call bullshit on the first of the reasons behind the break up I end up with, "You're a great guy, and a you're a great boyfriend, but I just don't feel that way about you."

Is that some sort of boy code for something else?

This has been a learning experience for me. I've learned that I kind of act like a girl when I'm finally being honest and that I'm okay with that. Even when I was pretending not to be gay I wasn't really a typical guy, and I'm sure Momma would say the same. Now that I'm out and letting myself be okay with being gay I'm realizing I'm a bit of a different person than the guy who inhabited my body for so many years.

I want to be mad at him or hate him, but all I can really do is hurt. I wonder if maybe there's some grand John Cusack like effort, some song or phrase that will make him realize he loves me.

I need to be me. That's something I've never done before. I hid in the closet for a long time to avoid hurting Momma as well as avoid whatever negativity I knew would be the result of admitting I'm gay. I'm not a martyr and am not trying to pretend my actions were noble, but keeping the hurt to myself is sort of a habit of mine.

So now I have to figure out where I go from here. I don't want to turn into a selfish asshole, but I kind of feel like that's the way I need to go. I've hurt too much and cried too much over the last year. I've worried that I'll never find anyone, that I'll never be good enough.

This post rambled around and wound up nowhere. That's sort of how I feel. I'm going to finish getting drunk, and I'll probably even cry again. I did have an interview today and may soon have a job. I certainly hope so because being broke AND rejected sucks a lot.

I'll promise to try not to devolve back into the whine-o-puss I was much too recently. The whole figuring out me thing needs to be the real goal. I still have his four gauge curved barbells, and I left four or five beers in his fridge. I doubt I'll see them again, and he's definitely not getting the earrings back.

Now where did I leave my overly large boombox?

what?

It's amazing what you can do when you're the national team as opposed to some schmuck team. Ninety of 20 should equal an easy win for the US in their upcoming World Cup qualifying match, and if this doesn't bring us a win, then I really just don't know what there is left to do.

You really should just click on the picture to get the full effect. Added to the things I suck at is knowing how to massage an image so that it's clearly viewable in the ol' blog. I'm sure one day I'll know, but right now it's enough that I was able to get a screen capture and then get it to save in a form I could actually post.

And this isn't nearly as sad as the fact that, while I write this, MTV is airing some sort of show involving a contest made up of the game Rock Band. What the hell ever happened to actually starting a rock band? Are we seriously so out of ideas that a video game is worth airing as competition? I guess once the sports networks show poker games then anything is worth showing. Did I mention I saw darts on tv recently? Yeah, it's true.

like a spring sort of

You lucky few who read this blog get to sit through yet another post where I bitch and piss and moan and whine and bitch. The option of course is to go ahead and click the next thing on your blog reader or just x out of the damn thing.

I think I mentioned my current joblessness. I'm still carrying a huge grudge for the douche that fired me for having had a bad day and voicing my opinion. No one at the most recent job ever had the balls to say anything to me, so basically I got fired by a coworker, a fellow line cook, and I have his third or even fourth hand story to explain to me why I don't have a job.

I've filled out more applications at more restaurants than I can even remember over the last couple of weeks. I'm down to about ten dollars in my bank account. I should obviously have stopped buying beer and cigarettes, though in the beginning I was sure I would have a job soon, so it wasn't really that big a deal. Now it's to the point where my stress and depression levels are so high that I don't dare quit cold turkey. I'm sure that sounds like an excuse, but if you are or have ever been a smoker or a decent drunk then I'm sure you can understand my issues.

I have a low grade headache that's been hanging around the base of my skull for days. I've been shitting erratically for days from the stress's effect on my stomach and my piss poor diet which is also thanks to the stomach effect. I feel so tightly wound that the least and stupidest little thing is bound to set me off. I'm at some kind of breaking point where I almost wish someone would give me a reason to explode. My knuckles are sore from punching walls and doors and cabinet doors and the steering wheel. My back hurts, a typical place for stress to build up, and for some odd reason there is a pain recurring randomly in my sternum. It feels like it's right in the bone.

I thought I had a lead on a job until I finally was able to pick up and drop off an application. I was told they were hiring as they'd just lost several cooks. The guy that took my application informed me that his hours had just been cut. Another lead was at a place not yet open. I've heard from one person that their bank just went out of business and from another person that they've spent all their investment money and still aren't ready to open.

Next week I begin by lowering my standards. I'm going to have to look at restaurants where I know just having to go in will depress me. I don't want to me a snob about it, but I know my skill level is higher than Cracker Barrel, yet that's probably the next place I go. And this is fucking with my self esteem. It's been low enough lately without circumstances stomping it lower, so I'm really going to look forward to this fun.

And there's a new gripe filled blog post. I'm really feeling like shit lately, a little worthless, even a bit friendless. I feel like I spend every night sitting on my ass waiting for the next day so I can repeat the cycle of driving around town, asking if people are hiring, can I have an application anyway sort of shit. I owe Momma for bills already, and now I'm going to have to go to her begging for help. She can't really afford it, and my soul can't afford to have to ask.

I really just want to crawl into bed and hope when I wake up everything is better, somehow magically something. The option feels like slamming my throat in a door, and that, sadly, doesn't seem like the worst idea I've ever had.

stand up

Very quickly, because I should already have taken a shower and be headed out to continue the job search.

Saturday, November 15 is a national day of protest for gay rights. In light of the passage of Prop 8 in California, which basically took away marriage rights for gay people in California, gay men and women and our non gay supporters in cities across the US are gathering to show solidarity and to demand that we be treated as equals.

That's really what this is all about, equality. We aren't asking for special rights nor are we asking for more than we deserve. We want the same as everyone else.

If you feel the same, whether or not you are gay, you are invited to attend this rally. We need all the support we can get, and we need to stand up and show everyone that we are no different from them. We are your brothers and sisters. We are parents. Quite simply we are human.

Please find time to join us at World's Fair Park at 1:30. Go HERE for more information about this local rally.

meme the food yo

Thanks to Meg of Get In, Hang On for the softball. I love easy memes, because it makes it so easy to come up with a post, and this is a fun one. It's all about food, baby, so here we go.

What's the last thing you ate?
I whipped up a couple packages of ramen noodles and added some leftover chicken and frozen peas. I can go a little crazy with ramen if I have a couple of extra minutes, or I can just make them plain, or I can land squarely in the middle as I did tonight.

What's your favorite cheese?
Cabot makes a really nice chipotle cheddar that's really nice, and in general I'd have to go with cheddar as a fave. I also like Manchego and really good Parmesan.

What's your favorite fish?
I don't like much fish at all, but I do like tuna. It's good and fun to play with. I can also do scallops usually, and I love calamari when it's done well, but it's so easy to fuck up if you don't know what you're doing.

What's your favorite fruit?
Probably my fave fruit is mango, but it has to be ripe enough, otherwise it's really not good at all.

When if ever did you start liking olives?
I'm up and down with olives. I tend to like them, but so many of them are new to me and can be a bit much. I'd say, if asked, my favorite is the basic Kalamata.

When, if ever, did you start liking beer?
I'm a bit of a lush, and I tend to go with beer almost exclusively. It was in Charlotte, NC somewhere around 12-13 years ago, that I started drinking better beers than the typical American stuff, though I tend when on a budget to stick with Miller High Life.

When, if ever, did you start liking shellfish?
I really only like scallops, and I've liked them since I first had them, but like anything, they really have to be cooked right, because they are so easy to ruin.

What was the best thing your parent/s used to make?
My mom's lasagna was my absolute favorite food growing up, though pretty much everything she cooked was good. Her biscuits began my lifelong love of them, but I tend to use Alton Brown's recipe these days. It's actually not that different from my mom's, and while Alton calls for half shortening and half butter I just use butter.

What's the native specialty of your hometown?
Atlanta, where I grew up, doesn't seem to have a native specialty that I can think of. If you want to go with my current home of Knoxville then I would have to guess something like mets and beans or a full house which is a tamale and chili dish. These were popularized in my town's early days, and they aren't as readily available now, but that may the closest we have to a native specialty. Anyone showing up from around these parts is more than willing to argue this point and give me something different to check on.

What's your comfort food?
Probably beer. It gives me comfort. Other than that I might go with biscuits.

What's your favorite kind of chocolate?
Dark, dark and dark.

How do you like your steak?
I like them just past rare, almost medium rare, and I think the only cut of meat worth eating as a steak is a ribeye with a nice bit of fat around the edge, the fat a little crispy from cooking.

How do you like your burger?
Medium rare to medium, mayo, mustard, ketchup, bacon, cheddar, tomato, onion, dill pickle slices, messy and dripping down my fingers.

How do you like your eggs?
Scrambled usually, but I also love them fried till the yolk is firm and the edge of the whites is brown and crispy, and I love boiled eggs as well, but the latter two tend to give some irritating gas.

How do you like your potatoes?
Cooked, all sorts of ways, fried, baked, mashed, roasted, stuffed . . .

How do you take your coffee?
Strong with maybe half a spoon full of sugar and just enough half and half to lighten it a wee bit.

How do you take your tea?
I'm southern, so I like it cold and just a little sweet.

What's your favorite mug?
My coffee mug was in the house when we moved in, is rather large and has two finger wholes for a handle. Beyond that I like a large glass mug full of a hoppy pale ale.

What's your cookie of choice?
Chocolate chip or oatmeal, raisin, walnut. It's a toss up. I'll also take walnuts in the chocolate chip if it's all the same to you.

What's your ideal breakfast?
usually coffee, but given the chance I'll load up on eggs and sausage and bacon and grits and biscuits with gravy. I won't argue with some ham. A nice scone is always nice if a bit simpler.

What's your ideal sandwich?
I love a Reuben, but I don't like crappy Swiss cheese, so I usually opt for whatever other cheese is available wherever I happen to be.

What's you ideal pizza (topping and base)?
Basic thin-ish crust with pepperoni and green olives or ham and pineapple.

What's your ideal pie (sweet or savory)?
Hands down a good pecan pie is perhaps the greatest food ever created. I'd kick a nun in the cunt for a good piece of pecan pie.

What's your ideal salad?
Okay, here's my southern coming out again, but I don't give a shit so long as there's ranch dressing. I can eat and enjoy all sorts of salads, and I do love vinaigrette if it's well made, but give me ranch if you want me to be really happy.

What food do you always like to have in the fridge?
beer, milk, butter, soy sauce, ranch, mustard,

What food do you always like to have in the freezer?
I don't use the freezer a whole lot honestly. It's always nice if there's some ice cream, but other than that the only thing that regularly goes into and out of my freezer are chicken parts. We always have some amount of chicken parts so that we can always be a very few hours away from having stock.

What food do you always like to have in the cupboard?
ramen, peanut butter, graham crackers, steel cut oats

What spices can you not live without?
oregano, thyme, kosher salt, paprika, chili pepper (not powder because I can make that) cumin, coriander, peppercorns

What sauces can you not live without?
soy, I like to have some fish sauce tucked away in the fridge as well and Sriracha

Where do you buy most of your food?
Food City

How often do you go food shopping?
every couple of days. We tend to decided at the last minute what's for dinner, so we are often running to the store for last minute things. We try to keep the pantry stocked to the point where we don't need more than the basic ingredients for any meal

What's the most you've spent on a single food item?
I don't buy really expensive stuff usually. What I have spent money on are things that are just hard to find in a small town such as lemon grass. We pay a decent little bit for coffee, and I've spent over ten dollars on a six pack of beer before. Other than that it was probably a turkey or some fish that Momma got for something.

What's the most expensive piece of kitchen equipment you own?
I'm not counting appliances, so it would probably be the Kitchen Aid stand mixer, though it was a gift from my parents. Most everything I have was either a gift or hand me down.

What's the last piece of kitchen equipment you bought?
Probably the hot air popcorn popper I got for Momma last Christmas

What piece of kitchen equipment could you not live without?
Probably my knife. I can make do with lots of stuff or without lots of stuff, but a good knife can do so many things, and there are so many things you can't really do without a knife.

How many times a week/month do you cook from raw ingredients?
Almost daily, though there are a few things we get for convenience sake.

What's the last thing you cooked from raw ingredients?
I made a sausage and mushroom frittata and biscuits. I finished the leftovers for lunch today.

What's your favorite thing to make for yourself?
biscuits or scones. I know I seem a little one track with the quick breads, but I do love them so.

What meats have you eaten other than cow, pig, chicken and turkey?
elk and lamb, didn't like the lamb really, and that may be about it

When's the last time you ate something that fell on the floor?
I have no qualms about eating things that fell on the floor, depending of course on the floor.

What's the last time you ate something you picked in the wild?
um . . . perhaps never, though the church I grew up attending had pecan trees, and I may have eaten some of the pecans, but that's been nearly twenty years, give or take a couple years

Place the following cuisines in order of preference (greatest to least) Italian, sushi, French, Chinese, Indian, Thai:
Thai-absolutely love Thai food when I've had it
Indian-I'm putting second, but it's been years since the Sunday dinners at the Krishna temple
Chinese-I'm a sucker for soy sauce and what Chinese food I've had. I'm thinking my experience may be somewhat less than authentic, but it's really hard to know
Italian-cured meats and olives and roasted peppers and bread oh my
French-I think we're more used to a lot of French styles as their cuisine has so influenced western cuisine
sushi-texture issues and dislike of nori make it nearly impossible for me to enjoy sushi, but I want to love it because it may the single prettiest food

Place the following boozes in order of preference (greatest to least) whiskey, vodka, tequila, gin, brandy, rum:
Tequila-I love good tequila, chilled without the training wheels
Rum-mmmhhmm mojitos-spiced rum is also really good with sweet, iced tea
Gin-gin martini? yes please, though it has been too long. Gin makes me goofy
Vodka-is a giant meh for me because the whole point in distilling vodka is to make it as clear and flavorless as possible. At this point the only point is to get drunk, and I'm enough of a lush without insisting on it.
Brandy-really, I associate brandy with the smell it leaves on your breath, think bum asking for spare change in your personal space, and it's only not last because . . .
Whiskey-ick, gives me immediate heartburn. I don't mean some heartburn. I mean whiskey goes down, heartburn comes up, immediately.

Place the following flavors in order of preference (greatest to least) garlic, ginger, basil, aniseseed, lime:
Lime, ginger, garlic, basil, anise

Place the following fruits in order of preference (greatest to least) cherry, apple, orange, watermelon, pineapple:
Watermelon, apple, orange, cherry, pineapple

Bread and spread:
Have we covered this already? Biscuit with butter or apple butter or a mixture of mashed together butter and molasses

What's your fast food restaurant of choice and what do you usually order?
A) Chic-fil-a and I go with the chic-fil-a sandwich, waffle fries and sweet tea, or
B)Krystal where I tend to order the bacon-cheese Krystal, Krystal chik and fries, though their fries are only good when they're really hot and salty.

What are the three best dining out experiences you've ever had?
1. Probably Cha-Cha's which is sadly no longer open, and sadly, Momma and I were able to watch their demise as the food lost all relevance to the tapas bar that they were when they were good. The standout menu items were the calamari and the wild mushroom risotto
2. Brasserie(forgetting the whole name)-Christmas party for the sushi bar where Momma used to work. Standouts there were the escargot which I had for the first time and the calamari which they served with a tomato jam
3. Possibly, and this may be kind of gay, but the day I had to run errands and Cute Boyfriend went with me and took me for Mexican. Nothing really stood out other than getting to hang out with him and having most of the day to do the hanging out.

What's your choice of tipple at the end of a long day?
My new favorite beer would be Sweetwater Brewing Company's IPA, but at the end or the beginning or in the middle of any day, long or short, I'll generally be happy to enjoy a beer or two.

Favorite cookbook?
I still stand proudly by the Joy of Cooking. It's a great all around cookbook, especially if you know how and when to fix the recipes. Aside from that I love just reading any cookbook Julia Child wrote because I just love the voice she carries over into her writing, and I don't mean her actual voice voice.

Got any favorite food blogs?
Yes, David Lebovitz is probably the very top of my favorite list.

What's the next thing you'll eat?
If I can manage to get up in time tomorrow I plan to make some apricot scones, and given the state of my stressed out tummy, that needs to be the next time I eat, and I do need to be up in time to make scones, because Cute Boyfriend will be here and deserves them.

And I'm not tagging anyone. This damn meme didn't seem nearly so long when I was reading it at Meg's or at Frankie's. Go visit both those lovely ladies and see how they answered, then go back to your blog and play along. It's a true delight, and it's fun to see how others answer.

eureka

In a moment of clarity, driving past the mall on our western side of town today, I realized something. I may have figured out why so many people are so sincerely opposed to allowing gay people to marry, and it's both sad and understandable at the same time.

This sort of thing happens often in music and fashion. It happened somewhere in the '80's to the punks. It happened when The Cure's Just Like Heaven hit it big and again when Green Day released their album Dookie.

I remember time it happened to me, shortly after Nirvana's debut as a band with a hit song. I fell in love with it and was soon to purchase what I could of their earlier releases. I was into that kind of thing then, and I felt it went well with the Fastbacks and Mudhoney I was discovering.

Suddenly the music I felt was so much a part of me was huge and everywhere. Everyone had that same album and was wearing short sleeve shirts over long sleeve shirts. The flannels I'd grown up wearing were suddenly cool, and I was suddenly seen as one more person buying into this thing that someone decided to call grunge.

And I didn't like it. I was the cool one. I was the one that really liked it. This was my music and the damned usurpers didn't get it, only liked it because it was suddenly cool. All they were really doing was ruining what was once a great scene by making my fashion sense available at the mall.

Perhaps that's an unsaid reason for the anti-gay marriage revolt. We gays are diluting their thing. The straight people have been working on this marriage thing without us for so long that they feel some connection, that they are known by this thing. The goths wear black and the straights marry.

What if suddenly the gays start marrying each other? Before long it won't have the same value, the same street cred. It will be like anything else, and then everyone will start doing it. Before you know it Abercrombie and Fitch will start selling marriage at the mall and white boy vanilla rappers will write family friendly tunes about weddings. Soon enough it will become so passe' that, like random metal-ish riffs in a Food Network show about making Smarties candies, it will be safe and bland, will lose its power to shock.

Maybe it's not that, and I'm more than willing to admit that I could be wrong. There could be other reasons to keep us from marrying people we love, but I'd kind of like it to be my reason. Seriously, there really is only one other reason I can think of but would prefer it not be true. That reason is that they are just douche bags, and I don't want to imagine that all those people are just douche bags. It's better to think of them as Cure fans or late '70's punks. They don't want their scene watered down and usurped.