unsure

I'm not sure exactly when it happened. I've been slowly spending more of my going out time at a gay bar. It's the one closest to where I live, and I generally like the place. It has a great neighborhood bar feel about it most of the time with the usual weekend drag shows and the crazy but lovable mc whose songs I have to admit I prefer to those of the regular drag queens.

I have nothing against drag, but it's part of gay culture that I both understand yet still don't quite care about. It just isn't really my thing but in an okay way.

As I've slowly begun to become a regular at this place I'm starting to feel both more and less comfortable. When you are a stranger and the new guy the other guys can be a little put off by you. That I once went in and had a drink with a friend who is also friends with one of the bartenders seems to have helped. This particular bartender has remembered me and even my beer of choice for the past several visits.

In addition, some of the other regulars seem to have grown more comfortable and have begun to talk to me more. This has been helped at least a little by an encounter with another regular who is not much liked by most of the staff and other regulars. I know what he did to get my defenses up, though it was mostly a benign incident, but I'm really not sure why the others seem to dislike him so. I do take it as somewhat of a warning that so many people have issues, but I'd also like to think I can think for myself.

The day before Valentine's day I ended up at the bar fairly late at night. A couple of people made attempts at talking to me, and one of them I have been friendly to in the past. Another was the weird guy from above while another was a nice enough person for whom I have no interest. Another guy bought me a beer, but he wasn't the least bit talkative and not even a little attractive to me.

Here's a nice time for a brief tangent. When I was in the closet the last few years I was so thoroughly in and in denial that I refused to even consider anything that might bring the gay out. I didn't look at or check out guys, I didn't consider them in a way that might help me discern what my type was or even if I had a type. As I'm now out and thinking about these things and noticing guys I find attractive I'm coming to understand that I do sort of have a type, but I don't allow myself to work solely within the constraints of that.

Having said all that, the last guy I talked to on the eve of that horrid holiday is a guy I've talked to a few times since. We've sort of talked on the phone and texted several times. We've hung out quite a bit, and I've hurried home from his house in the morning in time to get Momma somewhere she needed to go.

And making the tangent less of one, I think about this guy and types. I kind of like him, but there are weirdnesses that aren't bad so much as things that make me think. He isn't a guy that I would initially consider my type, but there are things that attract me to him, and we've enjoyed the time we've spent together. My plan is to take things slowly and make sense of things as opposed to the way the cute ex and I rushed headfirst into whatever it was we had.

Oh, and he's slightly older than me, somewhere in the vicinity of three years. It's a big break from the twelve years between me and the cute ex, who was younger. As far as the ages go I imagine mostly I'll feel closer in age, but then one considers the difference in the amount of time we've been out, and that tends to make me feel so much younger. I'm actually happy to have a moment (or more. Who knows?) with a guy closer to my age, though life seems lately to throw me into friendships with people younger. I realize how little this actually matters, but it's still something to think about if nothing else.

And I still have posts in my head. I actually have a couple of other things to write about. I nearly threw everything into a big catch all of an update, but I quickly realized how tiresome that is. Actually it's tiresome for me. I throw all sorts of shit into one post and use up too much blog fodder. Then I don't write for a few too many days and don't give myself this outlet for further thought and consideration of the things in my head and life.

So I'm done with this for now. I'm also getting texts from a certain cute man, and at the moment I'd rather give him my attention rather than this blog. Of course there are also the kids. They need a good hollering at probably.

stinky me

There's some sort of theme running through my days that seems to involve me needing a shower but not always getting to it. I know I need to do it, and I want to be clean. My hair is all kinds of hell and grossness.

Yesterday I fucked around on the computer for too long and just ate away my time. Today I've gotten our taxes done (I hope) and efiled (I hope) and am now waiting twenty four hours to see if the IRS accepts them.

You may remember Momma's name issue that we've had around this same time every year. The Social Security Administration and the IRS always decide at the last minute to give us hell about their inability to have understood what she was saying when we got married and she changed her name. Last year was the year that someone at the SSA finally explained the problem, and as far as we know it's been fixed.

We should be getting just enough money to catch up on our bills, and if we are really lucky and have been good boys and girls maybe there's tattoo money in there as well.

Remember last time we talked when I was stretching my ear? Yeah, well I went too far too fast and ended up tearing the inside of my ear hole a little. I had to back off and go back to my most recent size. Hopefully Sunday will be a lazy day and will see me being patient-ish with the other ear. I'll get these bastards fixed eventually.

Is this update enough for you? I still need that shower, and I'm one cigarette and about a third of a cup of coffee from getting in there. I can't wait to be clean, to scrub the stench of work off myself in time to go back to work and get more of that stench back on me.

And it hasn't been a week or more since my last post. See? Maybe we can do something with this after all.

? to zero in hours

I hate everything I write lately.

It's not that there aren't drafts sitting around waiting to be deleted, because there are. But that's the sad fact of it that they really are going to be deleted.

What did I used to write about? What were those things that made me laugh or steam or just gaze into space and wonder?

My day? I went to the mall. I thought Momma and I were going to figure out something about our phones which we both need new ones of. It turned into her staring lovingly at the iphone. Then on our way out, I wanted to stop at the punk/goth/cavern like store at the mall. I know that their body jewelry is cheap and momentarily effective, so I wanted to stop there anyway, but then I saw the thing in the front window with the tshirts about the thing that Momma's boyfriend loves, and she mentioned earlier that his birthday is soon. What better gift for him, and I get to look at the next size up ear somethings for my ears.

And on rereading/editing I feel the need to point out that I didn't get Momma's boyfriend a gift. I merely pointed her in the direction so that she could please her man. And then she went and had to look at every single tshirt in the half off section in the back, and suddenly the boys see candy and want some.

Either way I got some decent looking tunnels for the ol' ears, and by the time I go to bed tonight, one of mine will be up to a zero gauge. I'll be uneven in that respect for a short time, but by the end of the week I'll have both ears up to zero.

That's really not even that big, for what it's worth, but it's big for me. This is one of those random things I wanted to do years ago, one of those things I put on hold for whatever reason. And I can't even tell you one good reason to stretch my ears other than I want to. I like it. I know better on several levels, especialy at my age. It doesn't make sense.

I'm actually spending the night jumping a couple of sizes. It's a bit more work than I was expecting, assuming my ears were more ready to stretch than maybe they thought, but the job is nearly done. The taper is slowly finding it's way through.

I'm sure that's enough story for tonight. I'm tired of backspacing over words to get to the misspell, so I need to stop typing. I'll let you all know how things turn out.

white

I burned myself at work tonight. That in itself is not surprising. It's the nature of the beast that this job is.

No, the thing about this particular burn is that it turned white, like a frozen kind of dead white.

I was making a shrimp alfredo and accidentally tossed one of the shrimp out of my pan. I went to grab it with tongs and managed somehow to touch a tiny part of my thumb, maybe a half inch long place near the base of my thumb, against one of the pointy parts that are the part of the eye of the stove that holds the pan above the flame.

I actually thought about googling gas burners and/or eyes or whatever it took to figure out what the pointy parts are actually called, but I did in fact not do that. I chose not to. Anyone reading here is welcome to tell me the name of the pointy part, but I can't guarantee any sort of prize.

And the point isn't prizes but that the burn turned white. It did not blister as I'm used to burns doing, though now, a few hours later, it has finally turned into a blister. But at the moment it happened, and then for the next couple of hours, it was just this weird looking white, almost like that bit of frostbite on a ruined steak you just found in the refrigerator.

That's my story for the night. It's at least a little interesting to me, and I know that the people to whom I told about and showed the burn exhibited signs of being mostly nonplussed. I can only imagine how moved you are right now.

oh really

Though I'm sure no one noticed, I haven't been online in a couple of days. Momma and I got a little behind with paying Comcast, so they took our internets away. Momma placed a call, and the nice man gave us the web so she could give him some money, and now we are back.

And what did I miss? Did anything exciting happen? So far I haven't checked any of the blogs I read, and I haven't actually signed into my google reader at all yet. I checked my email then went straight to Facebook and then Myspace.

I had two friend requests at Facebook, my father and a lesbian friend. I know that's no big deal, but it's funny to me sort of. Facebook was going to be the secret family place where I didn't tell anyone about the gay. I broke that rule today.

One of my brothers set his status to say he was listening to Abba by choice. The first comment he got in answer was a simple Q to which he replied with the word secure. I of course added a Q? to which he replied that his friend had called him queer.

Of course I knew that the Q was a suggestion that my brother's sexuality should be called into question because he was listening to Abba, but I did have to point out that I am both queer and secure and don't listen to Abba. As I mentioned to him, to me, being called queer is kind of like mentioning that I wear black shirts, though in reality I choose my shirt on a daily basis. The only choice I made in regards to my sexual orientation would be acknowledging and accepting it.

Yes, that is a bit much considering someone I don't even know who is a friend of my brother put a Q in answer to his Facebook status, but where's the fun in life when you don't challenge people once in a while.

And finally, the whole point of it all is that I've finally admitted on Facebook, if in a tiny and barely noticeable way, that I'm gay. I wasn't going to do that when I first got on Facebook, but more and more I'm tired of not being honest about it. I don't like for people to not know, because it's so much easier to just let people know that I'm gay so that I don't have to feel like I'm avoiding the issue.

The moral I suppose is that people are still going to use words descriptive of homosexuality as insults, but when I see it I'm going to call you on it. And you don't even have to be gay to play along. All you have to do is let them know that you have a brother or sister or son or parent or friend who is gay, and then you can ask them what negative thing they are suggesting about being gay they think applies to the person you care about who is also gay.

Wow, I turned a blog post that began as an update into a sermon. I guess that's what happens when you turn all uppity fag on people.

frikkin tired

I ran my ass off today trying to keep up with the vultures at the bar scarfing down the free pizza. The weather brought everyone out to the square, and the happy hour was hopping.

I made the big batch, the seven pounds of flour batch, of dough, as that's the most our shite mixer will handle, and it's the amount I was told was a good number of pizzas to make. For what it's worth, we get eighteen doughs out of that size batch.

My day started well enough. I got the dough made and portioned and went to the bar to set up the pizza stand and get my cheese and produce. I went back to the pizza cube (that's what the regular guy calls the place we make the free pizzas) and chopped my veggies and set up my station to make the pizzas.

I do them two at a time, and I can usually almost keep up with the demand. Today I could not even pretend to keep up. I was slapping out pizzas and fast walking them to the bar, and not until I took the last two pizzas did I get there fast enough so that the previous two were not completely gone.

I did make a buck forty five in tips though, so it wasn't all worthless time. Of course the vultures could have dipped into their tight little pockets a tiny bit more than they did, but why bother being grateful for free pizza?

Fucking vultures, ravenous wolves, drunken bastards or whatever they are. Ingrates I calls 'em.

Actually, I may call the customers all those things, but it's a fucking job, and it beats the shit out of so many things I could be doing. But fucking tip the pizza bitch once in a while already. Shit, do they expect me to drink on my own dime?

sometimes shouldn't even look

Why do we do things we know are not good for us? I'm not talking about those activities such as drinking too much or smoking. I'm talking about those things that we know are just going to bring us down but aren't especially unhealthy.

My example, and the reason for this post involves the damned Myspace and a picture I could tell I didn't want to see.

Okay, a little history is in order. In early November of last year I was in what I thought were the early days of a beautiful relationship. Everything was great if perhaps a little quick. I had a delightful boyfriend who really seemed to like me, and I was slowly (quickly) falling in love.

November came, and Momma threw a birthday party for a friend on a Monday night. The weekend prior was spent without the boyfriend as he'd decided we needed to "do our own thing" for a couple of days.

I feel I've pieced together what really happened and have decided that he met another guy and wanted to go be with him. He called me the night of the party, the night he was supposed to be back in town to meet and hang out with me. He was stuck out of town and would see me as soon as he could.

Another day or so passes, and he's finally back in town and asks for a ride from work. I pick him up, thinking the best thoughts, happy to see him. He draws away from me when I try to hug and kiss him, and I start to realize something may not be quite right.

We need to talk, so we go outside where we can smoke, and he tells me the first story about why we can't be together. Sometime later, after he leaves, we talk again, and after some prodding he tells me a different story. A very few days later his status on Myspace has changed from "in a relationship" to "single" and then suddenly back to "in a relationship," and there are new pictures of him and another guy.

So the story I piece together is that I've been dumped for this other guy, and here's where the slightly unhealthy part comes in. I see tonight that he's got a new picture up, and I go to his photos to look at it, and it's actually a very sweet picture of him and the new guy. But instead of seeing sweet I see a place I can't ever be again, shoulders on which my head will never rest, arms that will never embrace me again the way they once did.

I was actually almost in a good mood before that. I've been fighting the depression most of the night, and I was even almost ready for bed. It doesn't take much to throw me off the rails lately, and now I'm almost afraid to go to bed.

I'm tired, but I don't want to lie awake yet again reliving what should have been, thinking about what was, picturing what is. I really need sleep, and I want to go to sleep, but I know myself too well.

homescholing or parenting?

We had a fairly busy weekend of friends and kids over to the house with some small amount of friends and kids crashing out and spending the night. From all of that one child remains, the three year old son of some good friends.

Our weather is beautiful today, and the boys are all outside playing. I stood up a moment ago to find a window to peak at them through, a quick check to be sure they are okay.

As I located them in the backyard, I could tell that the three year old was upset about something. I watched then as Big Brother, my ten year old, squatted down on his knees and pulled the three year old to him. Big Brother gave him a hug, and the three year old sat on his knee for just a moment.

With no one around to say anything, to suggest he do so, my ten year old just caringly consoled a three year old. I smiled and was proud of him. I'm always proud of him of course, but this one moment I had to think that something we are doing is right.

don't wanna work on nothin

Now for the idea that needs to germinate and grow into actions.

I was up late one night, no surprise there, and I was reading through the blogs of gay bloggers in my reader. The next day I tried to retrace my steps through the blogosphere, but I couldn't recall where I'd started, and I didn't then want to open up the history window and spend time tracking it all down.

From a blog I read I think I went to the comments and ended up wandering through links to blogs to comments to further blogs and links, and eventually I found myself in a nice enough part of town but one in which I didn't know anyone.

Someone mentioned the search for "the one," and someone else suggested that this was a problem too many gay men have, that they are too often too busy searching for "the one" and don't ever spend time doing anything else.

The idea was along the lines of spending too much time at the bar trying to hook up, or spending too much time at the gym trying to look good, or spending too much time on clothes trying to impress. None of these are necessarily bad things to do, but to do just this little bit and to spend too much time on this and nothing else is not a great idea.

The suggestion was then made to stop looking constantly for "the one" and spend time making yourself a better person. Wait for "the one" and while waiting work on yourself. Discover what it is you should be doing instead, whether it's a hobby or self improvement or . . .

And this is the idea that's been in my head, not quite germinating into something I can work with, but sitting there, waiting for me to stop my own endless cycle of the bar and the beers and wishing all those cute boys would stop being straight and notice me.

And what am I doing about this? Nothing as of yet. I don't know where to start. Actually, less late nights, less fallen drunkenly asleep on the sofa, still wearing my clothes. Fewer days starting toward noon where I drag myself awake, force myself upright only to waste my pre work hours facing into the light of the computer.

There are ideas of things I should be doing, writing more, cooking like I mean it (like I used to), working with the boys. I should probably find a way to exercise semi regularly. I need to pay the library off so that I can become a regular there again. The homeschool group is languishing, and I can't even remember the last time we met up with any of our old hs friends. Honestly, I'd love to start baking again, though it was never something I did enough to actually make into a habit, but there was a time not so long ago that I was actually making decent bread and getting to know my baking.

I also need a shower, but I'm not sure if I can work that in between laundry loads. I'm sure I can, and I'm sure I'll be running to the car to get to work with my hair a little damp. And speaking of hair, it needs to be trimmed and soon.

And there's my need-for-self-improvement blog post. I'm quite certain that I've written something at least a little similar fairly recently. It probably sounds like the kind of thing I might have said. There's a short somewhere between knowing and doing. There's a part of me that recognizes how much easier it is to suck down a few tall boys and make it all better, though there's also the recognition that comfort inside a rut is no way to live.

Finally there's the part that keeps enabling myself. It's the part that is always handy with an excuse, a little of the ol' "it's too late today. You already have to do this other thing, and you have to be at work in just over an hour. Check your email one last time."

my hand is stiff and a little sore too

Yet another day rolls by, and I have nothing much to say. The sun is finally out, and the weather is warming slightly. We still have much of our snow on the ground, which is a little unusual.

We do seem to accumulate a similar amount of snow at least once per winter, but in the past the first bit of sunshine is usually enough to melt it away. With the freeze we got just after the majority of the accumulation it became too solid to disappear.

Once again it's First Friday which, coupled with the temperature, will most likely assure us of a busy night. Once again I fairy the pizzas till evening and then back to the kitchen. I'm scheduled volume tonight, though given the possibility of busyness at the business, I may end up closing.

My life is becoming a bit of a cycle. My lows aren't as low lately, and I'm away from the house much more than once upon a time when it felt like I never left the house. But I'm not doing anything much to make my life better. I end up at the pub, drinking the cheap beer.

More often than not I'm hanging out with someone or someones, but as often it's people I run into at the bar. Yes, that is exactly the kind of thing a bar is great for, but I need to make plans and do stuff with people because we intend to.

I have a post I almost think about, one that I'd love to have brewing in my head so that I could write about it. The ideas behind it are great ideas, but I've barely let myself really consider the things I'd need to do, and I've not implemented anything that would set me on the course I see I need. It's all very mysterious when worded so ridiculously, but really that's as much as I'm willing to say right now.

And that is that. I know how excited you all get when I've written something and how dashed on such inconsolable shores you then feel when it's nothing but this sort of tripe. I have no excuses.

rah rah pizza fairy

Currently I'm waiting to go to work. I'm also waiting for Momma who is at an interview. Better yet, she has the job and is on her way home from the interview. If she is unable to make it home in time, the plan is for her boyfriend to take me to work and watch the kids for a bit.

Today I begin my life as a pizza fairy. There is a guy who makes pizzas in the kitchen where I work, but they are actually the free happy hour food for a bar nearby. He is going on a month long vacation, and the duty to make the pizzas has fallen to me.

So, every week day for the next month I go in at my usual time in the afternoon, but instead of going about my usual prep and line work I get to make a batch of dough, set up the pizza station and make pizzas for the first three hours of my day. Days I'm scheduled at the regular job I will then clean up the pizza prep area and clock in at the usual job.

I'm also working the next six days, so between the two jobs I should make a decent if tiny bit of money. Also it will be fun having something different as well as being able to not quite be in the regular kitchen while still getting to participate with my presence. You have to love being in a kitchen to appreciate that.

And finally, I have to admit that, I think my taking the pizza fairy duties is not a bad way to get in with the family enterprise. I like these people, and I like their businesses. I like the gig, and anything within reason that I can do to cement my place and my money making ability is worth looking into.

So, job interviews and additions to jobs can only be good. As with anything in life, we can't really know where these things will take us, and I can wish for the best for Momma as she interviews, and I can go in and make good pizzas before going back to my own kitchen in time to bail people out and help clean their messes. Maybe my next job addition involves cleaning up the nearby bar on an early Saturday afternoon as they get ready to open. Fuck, I'll take it!

Oh, and the pizza fairy thing is because the current pizza guy is gay. Of course we have to point that out, but it's a benign jab, and I'll happily be the pizza fairy. I'm secure enough in both my manliness and butchness as well as my fairyness now that you mention it.

tv reviews? srsly?

The L Word. I watched it tonight. We, meaning me and the boys, went to a friend's house, and the boys played in a different room. I didn't catch anything too racy, but neither of them would be especially interested a lesbian soap opera anyway.

I have to admit that part of me liked it. I honestly missed more than I saw, and I never had a chance of figuring out too much what was going on as far as the group dynamics they were trying to portray. But something about knowing they were all a big bunch of gay people was strangely nice.

The dudes? Yeah, there weren't really many at all, but it's the least I'd expect, and at least we weren't all douchebags, just the ones that would have been douchebags anyway. We do show up as the bartender sometimes. And anyway, the only dudes in the house were either me or my children, for what that's worth. The chicks weren't in huge abundance either, again, for what it's worth.

And then we came home to peanut or almond butter crackers and milk followed closely by bed. I'm now the only one up. I seem to be thinking thoughts of bed myself, but I seem to have gotten my second wind, that point where I stayed up just so late that I'm now awake again.

And now I'm blogging about the lesbian soap opera. I may have mentioned not hating it, but I can't (refuse to) admit to too much love for it. It was a bunch of chicks for fuck sake! I mean, nobody loves the gals more than me. They're my homies, but nobody wants to see them make out. Nobody wants to watch a bunch of chicks in a show about them wandering around being catty about each other.

Okay, I did actually kind of get drawn in over the course of the hour. There was a point when a friend called, and I went to a different room, but I got the gist of it, and really, the only reason I was drawn in at all was that they were gay. I would of course prefer to see a bunch of unnaturally hot guys wandering into each other and going to work and out for drinks, but that's just me.

Will I watch it again? I can't say. I'd be willing to hang out with my gay friends and watch a gay show. I don't get to do that nearly often enough.

broken gaydar

Have I mentioned my faulty gayday? I know I have because my lost post, mere moments ago, mentioned a particular cute blond boy that I'm so unsure about and may almost have a crush on.

He really is absolutely adorable, and I'm certain I mentioned that in the last post, so there's no use going into it here.

The sad truth is that I think that most gay people have some sort of sense that we call gaydar that helps them find others. I'm certain I got the lemon gaydar because it doesn't quite work.

It could be part of my late coming out. Maybe because I went so long without using it it got rusty or just never got the online updates. I'm not sure. I'm not saying it never works, but it never works in a way that has any benefit at all for me.

At this point I'm actually certain my gaydar is so faulty as to have caused me to miss out on actual gays around me. Instead what I get is crushes on straight boys who act in such a way as to cause the gaydar to give me the early alert, the possibly gay signal.

Maybe through active use and through getting out and around other gays I can scrape the barnacles off of mine, and maybe I can learn how to use it enough so that eventually it becomes useful. I really don't know, and I'm not even sure that's possible. Maybe I just really did end up with the lemon gaydar. That would totally suck, because even with the gay agenda handbook I'm not finding any repair shops for gaydar. I'm just going to have to learn to live without it I guess.

not really trying

What an interesting week I've had. And no I'm not going into details. Nothing really great happened, no love life type shit, not reaching plateaus of understanding or self betterment. I didn't land a cherry new job with great pay and benefits or win the powerball.

What did I do? I worked and hung out at the bar. My day off was spent, at least three hours of it, training to be the interim pizza fairy when the full time pizza fairy is in St. Thomas for a month, the bitch.

I got laid, about which we'll agree not to talk, but honestly, there's nothing to discuss there, and all I really got from it is some sore thighs. You don't want to know.

Also, I ended up at a late night, after hours party from which my friend's boyfriend was asked to leave. I did the guy thing where I insert myself between two factions who may or may not insist on the situation ending poorly. I didn't expect a fight, but when you been a drinkin' . . .

Also, however briefly, I did have pleasant words with the absolutely adorable blond boy I keep happening to see. I'm not especially taken with blonds or with long hair, and he has both. And he is, as mentioned, absolutely adorable. I have no idea if he is gay because my gaydar is faulty, but I think I might get a bit of a feeling, but I also realize my penchant for having crushes on straight boys, so there's an even better chance that he is not gay than that he is.

I made a small amount of pot last longer than is natural or normal, but given my economic situation, and given that I have not been getting pot lately, I'm not at all surprised that I could make such a little bit drag out for such a long bit. I'm saving the last barely any for after the boys are in bed later tonight.

Also, I'm debating the invite from a friend to join her and possibly (oddly enough) some lesbians for an L Word viewing party tonight. I'll have to lock the boys in the back room apparently because of the sex scenes, and perhaps I'll lock myself up back there as well. Who really wants to see a couple of chicks going at it? Ugh! Actually, if I go, and there is a fair chance, the boys will probably be happy to mostly stay in the back room and play. I'll make sure they take some toys and/or a book, maybe some drawing type stuff. I'll hang with my lady fags and watch their stories with them.

And sadly, that's what it takes to get me to post anymore, random shitty update about my lack of life. So what have you been up to?

fb impasse

So, I realize after the fact that I'm pretty much gay on Facebook too now. I joined because it was a family thing, and I was pretty sure it would be fine. I would just play it close on the fb and keep things to myself.

A huge percentage of my non family friends are either the heathenest of homeschoolers or lesbians. Yes, that's the breakdown, and from one of my girls on the fb tonight I got a request for some sort of "top girls" app whereby I become one of her top girls and she can get my info about bd's and shits, holler?

And my mom is on there as well as an aunt and most of my many brothers as well as many of their children and wives, not yet both past and present, but give us another couple of years . . .

My status update tonight was gay as all hell, but that's not really the point. The point is that I didn't think about it at the time. It just was there all of a sudden . . .

And my moms is all on the fb. And knowing that, and realizing after the fact that my status is rather gay, I'm still not knocking myself out to run and change it.

And then I got to the status update of one of my nieces, and in it she included a line that describes perfectly how I sometimes feel. No matter how I go about it, I can't think of a good way to comment to her to relay my thought that perhaps I can understand how she feels. I so get what she said that I feel compelled to somehow let her know, but it all feels so weird.

I don't see a lot of the family. I do want to, but living even these few short hours away it's still often a lot to think about when the family gets together. And now there's the added burden of the thought of visiting while not pretending. And through it all there are all these nieces and nephews that I don't really even know.

I can't help but love these people. They are my family. And there are different variations on the main theme of love having to do with so many different factors. In thinking about my nieces and nephews and the circumstances they face, and considering the circumstances of my own childhood with my brothers and out parents, now the grandparents of our collective children . . .

So, in the middle of this post I finally figured it out. I told her what I wanted to hear when I felt the way her update read to me.

Social media: making families since . . .

30 for srsly

Yesterday I posted about my fuse issue and my need to return to the store to replace the twenty five amp fuses with the proper thirty amp fuses. That venture was entirely successful, and the fuse not only fit in the hole but fixed our dryer issue. We are now once again able to dry our laundered clothing.

On a different topic, the rain has returned. It's been a mere drizzle so far, but I think I can hear it raining more heavily, and the wind may have picked up as well. According to the most recent weather report I hear we can expect more rain throughout the day turning to snow possibly later.

I do work today, but this rain may mean yet another cut in the amount of business we can expect. Due to Hairspray being performed at one of the downtown theaters, we actually had decent business last night, but people tend to cut down on what they are willing to do outside when it rains. Yeah, weird, I know.

I think I might have another post boiling away inside. I really am trying to get back to this thing called blog, but so much of what's on my mind hasn't really been something I want to post. Momma's dating situation is not really mine to write about outside of how it effects me. I've got nothing going on in my own life, and I'm certainly not going to mention the random fuck buddy. I mean, I guess it's nice to have a friend in which I am mostly uninterested but with whom I can have disappointing sex, but again, it just isn't blog worthy.

Maybe I'll live blog my shower. That's obviously not going to happen, but as an idea it's at least slightly amusing.

25 or 30?

Our weather, once again, is cloudy and wet. When I was outside earlier the rain was the finest of drizzles, more a rain that you feel as you walk through it than one you feel falling onto you.

It would be a great day to be lazy and not move till we have to, and the boys are more than happy to continue ignoring my attempts to get them to get dressed. We need to go to the hardware store and the grocery store, and the sooner the better.

I bought fuses yesterday and managed to get the wrong size. I knew what size I needed, and I saw them hanging on the rack, but somehow I grabbed the twenty five amp fuses instead of the thirty amp. We've been without a dryer for days now, though it's only now beginning to be an issue. The jeans I am wearing, that I wore to work yesterday, were the final clean pair, and the last clean pair of socks can't be too distant in my future.

Also the dog is out of food. I don't think I need anything else from the grocery store at this point, and other than dog food and perhaps milk, everything else can wait. We do definitely need to feed the dog.

And for these reasons I need to boys to get dressed. I don't want to interrupt them when they are playing so peacefully together, but really they almost always play well together, so it's not like I'm worrying about some fragile and elusive thing.

So, on my way to smoke, as I pass their room, I'll yell at them with pleading and tears and perhaps some gnashing of teeth. Perhaps I'll leave out all of the above in favor of gentle imploring. Either way we need to go, and they have to be dressed so that we can.

bluh

Posting out of boredom may not be the best idea, but it's what I'm going with right now. I'm bored, and I don't have to be, but I'm ignoring all the stuff I should do.

I did clean the kitchen some. I emptied and refilled and started the dishwasher, washed the pots and pans that were sitting around dirty, washed the knives and stomped all the beer cans that were cluttering the counter. I also made myself another cup of coffee and rolled and smoked a cigarette.

I've yelled at the boys several times (not really yelled) to clean something as there are toys seemingly everywhere. General Grievous, the big Lego version, lies mostly built on the coffee table. There are Hot Wheels and Legos in the floor behind me. In the boys' room are more Legos and Littlest Pet Shop and Playmobile.

I'm pretty sure that Xena is somewhere, hopefully dressed in one of her outfits. I remember seeing her sword somewhere, but I don't remember where now.

The Boy has actually done a little cleaning. I think that he things he's going to get something treat like to eat. Big Brother isn't feeling well and actually laid down in his bed. That's a sure sign, so I may not bother him too much more about cleaning.

I could do my own cleaning, but as I mentioned, I'm opting for bored at the moment. I should have cooked, but at seven it's sort of on the late side to start, so we'll eat something else whenever anyone gets hungry, and the pork loin can wait till tomorrow.

Momma should be home from work any minute. I'm not sure if she's going to try to go to derby practice or not, but she'll have to at least come home, and I do believe I hear her in the driveway.

Now that I've bored you with my boringness, and now that Momma is indeed home, I'm going to stop bothering to blog and do something else equally boring.

sunshine

Perhaps my recent post about a looming bout of depression was a bit off base. While I do recognize the possibility that there is something fucked up in my head that all too often leads me to feel depressed, it seems I jumped the gun a bit this time.

I do sometimes feel like shit, gloomy, dark, inconsolable, and it does almost seem to work in cycles. Our recent weather certainly hasn't helped, and the fact that, outside of work, I'm still too often a bit homebound certainly leads me toward the unpleasantness. There are also extenuating circumstances swirling about my head lately as well.

At the same time I have to admit that there are fairly good things happening in my life lately. In past blog posts I've mentioned my historic treatment of people, my tendency to put up walls around me and blame others for their unwillingness to put up with my shit long enough to realize I'm a decent person. I can't say I don't put up some walls still, but I think I'm realizing the way to build sensible and healthy walls, or so I hope, and I'm becoming more able to accept people as they are and build friendships with people.

My recent depression was more than likely a fleeting thing, which it always has been, but this time it's fleeted quicker than in the past, and I think that the work I've done with myself is part of this.

And what's the biggest difference between this time and the last time? I haven't been wallowing in it. I didn't get in the depression like a pig in mud and roll around in it. I didn't pull it over myself like the sadly comfortable blanket it had become over the years.

Another difference I think is that I did recognize it as it showed up instead of being suddenly ass deep in sad.

I know that I'm not entirely better, and I'm positive that this is something I'll always deal with. I do think that I'm stronger and that it's not something I'll allow to cripple me anymore. I can't know that, and I don't want to think that I'll let myself be fooled by one victory into thinking that I'm suddenly a happy and carefree person. I wouldn't want that anyway really, because I can accept that it's just not who I am. I brood over things, worry about nonsense, assume the worst. My glass will always probably be just under half empty, and all of those things are all right. The universe really isn't out to get me, and while someone somewhere may hate me, at least I know that everyone doesn't.

And finally, if you live in my town, then you know how absolutely incredible the weather is today. The sunshine we're getting isn't actually responsible for my elevated mood, but damn if it don't help. It's beautiful today, and I love it even if all I've done is take out months worth of recycling. I still have the plastics yet to go, but I'll have the windows down and the stereo as up as is reasonable with the boys in the car. Also I get paid and get to go to the tail end of an awesome friend's birthday party after work.

know? no

The urge to post, to blog, to throw words out into the void, to something, whatever it is sometimes feels consuming.

I don't know if it's the lack of recent posting, though I did squeeze a couple out yesterday, or if it's some primal thing that has over the years made me want to write things down. Maybe it's an attempt to void my mind of all the noise, as if getting the thoughts into a different form will quell the jumble that they are inside my head.

There isn't anything specific that I feel I should be writing, and honestly, the way I feel like I'm starting to feel never bodes well for readable or coherent thoughts. I posted too much about depression and dark places last year, and I'd like to think I did enough of that to last me for a good long while.

I'm a little jealous of Momma right now, and I think that has something to do with my feeling bad. I won't give you her whole story, but it often feels to me as if she can easily and without trying have half the world on their knees at her feet begging for even a glimpse from her onto their poor, miserable faces.

I, on the other hand, seem to go through life looking for connections that are never there. I can't quite decide what it is that I want, what my end goal should be, and I feel like I wander through days, doing those few things I have to do, searching for something to hold my attention, to make me feel alive or involved or even just a tiny bit of caring about.

I want something new. I don't know what. Maybe I want to go away from this town and start over somewhere. Maybe it's a relationship. Perhaps I need a hobby of some sort.

A change in the weather would be nice. I'm tired of the cold by now, and I have at least two more months of cold feet and stiff, achy hands to look forward to yet. Though today is rather cold, the sun is out, and it should be shining on my face and filling me with its light. Instead I sit here, checking and rechecking my email, debating a visit to Myspace or Facebook, knowing there's nothing new at either of those places.

In the end I think I'll just go back to my time worn catch phrase of I don't know. While I'd like to figure out what this longing feeling is I end up right back where I always end up, and like usual, I just don't know.

darkness

I knew days ago it was coming. I'm to the point where I can sense it, maybe smell it on the wind. I could call it the darkness, because that's what it is.

Within the week I'll be ass deep in the depression. Things aren't especially different than they were or have been. My life hasn't taken any spectacularly bad turns.

As a matter of fact nothing is noticeably different.

But it doesn't matter. It's coming, and I can feel it.

just 'cuz it feels so good

Seriously, this post exists solely because saying these words is so much fun.

President Barak Obama

scattered inaugural thoughts

One week has passed since my last post, and I just haven't had anything to say. I can't say I have that much to say today.

Throughout the inauguration I watched with a lump in my throat and the hint of tears in my eyes. Hundreds of miles from where those couple of million stood watching in DC I sit here in East Tennessee thinking I can feel the energy.

That today is huge and historic is undeniable. As President Obama himself pointed out it wasn't so long ago that his father would not have been able to sit and eat lunch in any number of places. Have we progressed so far from those days? Sure we have, but we have so far yet to go.

Is there a more beautiful sight than the smiles and the joy and the hope beaming across the mall?

Oh, and if you didn't notice I'm sure you can find Obama's speech on YouTube, but, not to put too ugly a mark on the delight of today, but the president's hair was not evenly cut around his ears. There was a bit of sideburn trying to assert itself on his right side, while on the left there was none.

Also, I muted Rick Warren's prayer and told the boys why. In my own words, "I don't want to listen to him. He has a problem with gay people, and I have a problem with him."

I'm not sure when the parade begins. I have to be at work in three hours, and I'd love to see the parade. Mostly I just want to see the gay marching band, but given how people seem to like to not see us, I'm afraid the cameras might be pointed elsewhere when the LGBT's show up.

courier

If I were a font I'd be Courier. My friend C at My Life Was Changed By A Train deserves the thanks for this one. Take the test HERE to be judged by a machine and given a font and a possibly inaccurate description of what that font represents and why you are that font.

Apparently:

Like a typewriter-font on a computer, you go proudly against the grain. You're not afraid to let your opinions be known, and for you, anything is better than being known as "conventional."

That's good to know, and I must say, that Courier is a lovely font. Is the idea of retaining fonts from one medium to another really so novel?

But is any of that true? It seems the sort of thing that should make me think about my life, whether I am really what this website likes to call Courier and whether it's the sort of person I want to be.

I don't know that I think of myself as especially going against the grain, but to some extent I've always felt that I basically do and would tend to be a little proud of it. And I'm quite opinionated and often annoyingly so if you know me in real life. Perhaps I might blog a little that way as well, but in virtual world you have the benefit of not dealing with actual me in all my abrasive glory.

Also, I changed my blog font to Courier. Did you notice? And what was it before? Does changing the font now change it only for this post? Will all my past posts now be Courier as well? How about the future posts? It's all so much to not give a shit about!

can't shake it

My head is all kinds of full of something today. I don't think I drank that much last night, but maybe it was more than I realized coupled with getting a late start and cramming in more beer in too short a time.

Last night started with a trip to a friend's house so she could cart me around for a bit. We began by going to the wrong place, the coliseum, when we should have gone to the arena. There was hockey at the coliseum, but we were looking for bull riding.

Yes, you read that right, bull riding. I can't say it was the most enjoyable thing ever, and this is coming from someone who like guys in Wranglers and boots. A cowboy hat never hurts as well, assuming you don't look like a douche, and seriously, too many people that do wear them do also look like douches.

We weren't sitting close enough to really see the cowboys, and the jumbotron wasn't working, though it really should have been on to give us some close ups. Even without really knowing how sexy they are or aren't, there's still something hot about cowboys riding bulls, or at least trying to as was more often the case. There was the one guy who rode the bull to a stand still. As the eight second buzzer sounded the bull fell onto his side. In my opinion, if you ride the bull to the point it can't continue and it falls, you should probably win automatically.

Following the rodeo I found myself at the square for a couple of beers and running into very few people, and from the square it was off to the strip. From there it was on to a friend's house and a last minute run to the gay bar. The friend got a call from a coworker asking her to meet, but in the end it was just the friend and Momma trying to dance.

There was a cute and freakishly skinny boy at the gay bar that I sort of tried to talk to, but when you pick up your beer and walk away without a word, well even I'm not so dense I don't get that.

Last call, beers were being taken away and it was off to revisit the friend's house along with Momma and her boyfriend. I'm not sure what happened after I left, but Momma and the friend were turning each other lesbian and Momma's boyfriend . . . I don't know what the hell he was doing at that point, but I left. I felt once again as if I were being told without words that my presence wasn't welcome.

I should have just been cool, knowing this particular place and time wasn't for me, but I couldn't help being a little pissed, and I woke this morning to a much lighter version of the same feeling. I'm sure I shouldn't be pissed, but if you aren't welcome somewhere, the people that are welcome should at least try to find a nice way to tell you, especially when they are your friends.

Now I'm drinking coffee and am going to roll a cigarette and stand out in the cold and fume. I think there's supposed to be brunch, and maybe lots of people will show for that. If it's mostly just Momma and her boyfriend I might bale and do something else. There isn't really anything else to do on a Sunday early in the afternoon, but . . .

run for the hills

The day approaches ever more quickly, the day I've warned you about in this very blog, the day when the gays marry legally and the nazi tyranosaurs with laser eye and the killing everyone and total annihilation and stuff.

The following video, and a tip of the hat to Good As You, will help us defeat us pesky gays and our marriage craving ways.

Okay, I don't plan on marrying anyone any time soon, for what it's worth. I've got bigger cats to fry and fish to skin, but the video is great, worth a couple minutes and a couple laughs.

special stomach slices

First let me say that, in my opinion, bacon is special. I've heard the idea that everything is better with bacon, and I have to say that I disagree. At work last night the GM mentioned the idea of bacon powder, a substance introduced through the new magic of molecular gastronomy.

I have no real or major issues with molecular gastronomy though I do believe that the nature of food and eating isn't going to drastically change because a few wild and crazy chefs love to play with their food. I can appreciate the peaks they attempt, the zany ideas they bring to life, and I can especially appreciate the truly good ideas (sou vide) that actually add to the whole of our range of cooking repertoire.

But bacon is special. Bacon should be left alone or will suffer, as will we all, from an over saturation of the market, in this case our palate and stomach. If everything has bacon in or on it, and if everything tastes like bacon, then eventually bacon is not special, is not the treat it currently is.

Bacon cheeseburger? Hell yes please! BLT? Fuck yeah and a half! Bacon mat? Oh sweet baby Jesus on a trampoline I can only imagine!

Really I think my feeling is this, that if you want bacon, you should cook some up and find a way to add it reasonably to your food. Not all salads are better with bacon bits. Not all soups need a sprinkle of rough chopped bacon floating on the top.

Bacon is special. Let's not over extend our dear friend bacon in the short term and ruin it like yesterday's hypercolor shirts. Anything can become a trend, but once everyone is wearing the same thing it's not different anymore. Once everything tastes like bacon then bacon becomes bleah.

And really? what beats a hot and chewy slice of bacon, fresh from the paper towel covered plate, not all the grease having drained off?

crate walk

Have I mentioned the crate walk? If so then feel free to completely disregard this post, and if you want to avoid hearing me bitch, then by all means scoot away. Keep in mind it's a relatively minor bitch, and at least is not about feelings of woe and dark thoughts.

You'll remember the weeks of rain I bitched about recently, and just so you know, the tiny window of nice weather is gone yet again. We are back in the grip of seemingly constant rain. I'm mostly tired of it, but being the gloomy puss that I am, I can't say it effects me quite as much as it could.

Beneath our little house is a little basement. It's not in any way attached to the house really so much as it's a hole over which the house was built. If I could stand upright in this hole then it would be concrete and cinder block to about the level of my chest, and today, a crate walk day, I can stand even less upright.

Rain in abundance and the basement too often combine in some minor flooding issues. I keep thinking I'll clean the basement on a dry day, but like so many things, once the problem is out of sight it is as quickly out of mind.

In the corner of the basement farthest from the door is pump sunk into a hole in the floor. The pump works, but because the basement is so dirty and because so much dirt washes in on those rainy days it sometimes needs to be jiggled a little.

And here we get to the crate walk. I have two old milk crates sitting in the basement, both turned upside down. To keep my dainty tootsies out of the water, I step from the basement stairs onto the first crate and then put my front foot onto the next crate. Depending on what's managed to float into my path to the pump I can move in one of two ways. Either I can slide the crates, first one, then catch up with the other, or I can stand on one, lift and move the other forward then step to it. In this way I can reach the pump to give it its jiggle and start its work removing the water from the basement.

In no (or quite some) time at all, the basement will be free of water. Soon enough I'll be able to go back in with my box of matches and a list of curse words. The matches are to light the water heater pilot, and the curse words are for all the times it doesn't work and the match goes out.

And did I tell you that I think the heater may have gone out? That's a new one on me, and I'm not sure how it would have. Its pilot is at least a couple of feet above the average water line.

Now I'm off to fix a cup of coffee and check on the pump's progress. I was hoping for a shower today. Also, the sky is a nasty white/gray, and the wind is whipping our plastic chairs into a fury. Today is a good day for downed branches and creepy wind in the window noises. I have to admit thought that considering how bad some have it, my crate walk and delayed shower are absolutely nothing. I hope your weather is good and your loved ones are safe.

forward

As I may have mentioned, Sunday night was the employee Christmas party for the place I work. Enough fun was had by everyone that I saw. My own night was a little odd, all things considered, but quite fun nonetheless.

Momma needed the car as she had derby practice, so about halfway through my evening I got the call from her that she was on her way. I got to take her and the boys home and then head back out for a tiny bit more fun.

Much of my night was a tiny bit of bar hopping. From the place I work, as the party shut down, I went with a couple friends/coworkers to another bar. They were heading from there back downtown to a burlesque show as I was getting the car and leaving Momma and the boys at home. I met back up with them downtown only to find they were going back to the bar we'd gone to earlier.

So, back to the bar where I hung out with not only the friends/coworkers, but I also ran into even more friends, one of whom I'll quite likely be seeing a bit more of. Turns out she has recently been dumped and kicked out of her house. She's staying with yet another mutual friend but needs a new place to live.

So, if all goes well, I will soon have a new roommate, but first we need to find a place to live. Well, as these things sometimes go, yet another friend is living in a half empty house. She rents the top floor of a large-ish, older house, the bottom floor having been recently vacated. She hopes someone without kids or someone with cool kids like me moves in. And since we are good friends, she's hoping it's me.

First, this whole situation is almost too good to be true, and second, nothing is even close to worked out as of yet. To add to the too good to be true element is the part of town in which the house is located. It's within easy walking distance to some cool new things happening. It's also within just as easy walking distance to a gay bar and a sweet little down home, local flavor kind of bar. It's also mere minutes drive from my and Momma's job as well as being as few minutes by bus, and this only means it's that close to all the places I usually hang out.

This situation would be an extremely awesome beginning to the new year, and in keeping with my goal of being in a new home by the end of the month would go that much farther to making me feel like an awesome and happy person. The potential roommate and house mate are both awesome people with whom I'd be more than happy to share space.

So, vibes, well wishes, crossed extremities, prayers, whatever the fuck you've got would be in order, unless of course you want my to fail, in which case do whatever you feel causes that.

sore hips

Yesterday was quite a day. I started by sleeping later than I meant to even though Big Brother actually woke me up at what would have been a perfectly reasonable time to wake up.

I did eventually wake up enough to actually get up, and I began the day with some lovely laziness. After the boys ate enough, and after I'd eaten a little, we finally got ourselves dressed and motivated ourselves out of the house.

As of yesterday, the ice skating on the square is over until the end of this year and the return of the holiday season. Our day continued there, on the square, enjoying the ice rink one last time.

That's when I got my first sore hip. I can feel the pain inside the joint, and though I don't know exactly how it happened, it was the skating. I'm not in great shape really, and I didn't do any stretching other than that required to bend over and cram my feet into skates.

It was fun, as always, and The Boy is absolutely adorable shuffling around on the ice. Big Brother is a decent skater, and thankfully, this time, he didn't let his new found ability on the ice make him over confident. He didn't go crazy and try to do all the cool things he saw more capable skaters doing.

We got to watch the ice resurfacing, and we got to skate on the freshly less scarred ice. Soon enough it was time to go and pick up Momma from work. She and the boys then turned arouond and dropped me back off at the square for the christmas party my job threw for the employees. One of the managers talked nice to the ice rink people, and they were nice enough to let us skate for a bit, so for the second time, I was back on the ice.

Sore hip number two happened, I'm certain, during a fall. I only fell twice, both times coming out of turns. I overestimated my ability and paid the price. This soreness is on the outside in the form of a lovely if nearly invisible bruise. It doesn't hurt any less because of its near invisibility.

And that's the story of my two sore hips. There was much more to the evening. There was the part when I realized again why I love this town. It really is a great size, and I love when I see that two different groups of friends actually know each other already proving that it really is one big group of friends.

not feeling resolute

New years, a time when many people discuss resolutions. It's the beginning of a brand new year, so what better time to make a decision to change your life for the better?

The problem is that it so seldom happens. We start with a grand idea, perhaps we decide to quite smoking, not one I'm personally going with just yet, or perhaps we decide we need to lose X number of pounds. All too often, our grand ideas of change amount to little as we find ourselves back on the roller coaster or back to the humdrum, however we see our daily life.

One of my favorite newish to me blogs is Line Cook, and I found him through a button that suddenly disappeared from my Google reader page, the discover button. I could click on discover and Google would give me a list of blogs that were somehow related to the feeds already in reader.

There are a few cooking related blogs in my reader, and from my first read at Line Cook I liked his writing, enjoyed reading about his view of this business we are both in. He works at a higher end place than I, but it's still the same business, and it's nice to know that our comrades deal with similar issues.

He's posted something of a new year's resolution post, but unlike so many straightforward resolutions, unlike those big life changing decisions that we never can get a handle on, his ideas are completely doable. It seems to me less a huge change in direction and more a slight change in outlook.

As he states, there is a fair amount of self doubt in the field of cooking that can lead us astray, cause us to forget what we're doing, cause us to lose confidence in our ability, and that lack of confidence can be as slight as to cause us to stumble or so great that it paralyzes us.

His resolution rings true for me not just in the kitchen but in my daily life. For all the change I've forced and faced the last year, there has been a constant thorn in my side, something I've carried with me for years, and his attitude is one I need to adopt. I need to:

stop listening to the static and bullshit and let ourselves feel confident . . . let's take risks . . . ignore the voices in your head. Let yourself feel confident . . . Let yourself move forward in 2009--no excuses and no holding (yourself) back.

I'll add for myself, stop making excuses for why X didn't work or why I let Y depress me and stop me in my tracks. I won't pretend that I'm going to go out and be different tomorrow. I'm not saying that I'll actually do better every single day. I just want to keep this attitude in mind, to start acting in such a way that makes confidence and moving foward such a habit that I'm eventually doing so because I am confident and because I do move forward. I've got a lot to learn and a lot of steps to take just to begin this journey, but I have to start.

first o' year bs

I worked nonstop from the moment I arrived at work last night, clocking in one minute after four in the afternoon. We weren't yet busy, but as the night progressed the square filled up with people and so did the place I work.

We had reservations lined up all night and were seating till eleven thirty, though we ended up taking our last table before that. I did a little prep at the beginning of the night but soon ended up back in the dish pit. I wasn't at all concerned with this, as per usual, though I am going to work my way out of there soon.

I have a tiny bit of an almost burn on my left thumb from holding dirty sautee pans to scrub them out. One of our hot line cooks is really good at scorching them making my job especially fun. Most nights I have a few minutes to let them soak, but last night they didn't even sit in the soak sink long enough to cool off. If anything the steady rotation of still hot pans seemed to keep the soak water hot.

There's a bruise on my leg from running into the walk in door or having it opened into me. I'm not really sure which. I think I was fortunate in not wounding myself any more than that.

In time for the last countdown of the year I walked outside and smoked a cigarette, not the least interested in anything happening on the square, wanting to get back inside to my dishes and hopefully getting the hell out of there early. As it turned out I had another hour and a half of srubbing and spraying and shoving things into and out of the dish machine.

There were a couple of beers, some Bakers bourbon that ended up in my nose from laughing just as I took a shot combined with the fact that I really don't like whiskey for the most part. There was some actual champagne, better than what most of the actual revelers got to drink.

A beer later I walked a few doors down to the pub and had another beer was accosted by a girl, a pretty girl, but a girl nonetheless. Some of her hair caught in one of my earrings, and she was grossed out when I twisted my ear lobe to prove that I was fine. Her hair had actually stuck in my earring and had been pulled out, so my concern was her hair. I couldn't convince her that my ears were in fact fine.

I ran into a friend there and ended up back at the hotel room he'd gotten for the night, a nice late night walk through town. I woke this morning having had too little sleep and came home. I sat here a very few minutes before getting a text from Momma to go pick up the boys, and it was there that I realized I'd not even changed out of my work clothes. Even my filthy boots were still on, and those are generally the first thing I get rid of work related.

Now I'm home, have the last of a cup of coffee and am clean. The house is still a mess from Christmas stuff. Someone needs to cook supper, or we need to decide somewhere cheap to eat, and it needs to happen soon. Since noon yesterday I've eaten very little.

I'm fucking hungry, and Momma and I are both off today. I'm done with this pointless post. Hell of a way to start the year, by boring both my readers, but it's how I roll.

I hope this one is better than the last, because the last one, while it didn't suck the whole way through, just seemed more suck than not. Let's see where this new one will take us. Hope yours is happy.

end o' year bs

So once more we come to the end of a year. What does it really mean, this forcing of time constraints that we allow ourselves? It really does seem a lot of bullshit, but as humans we seem to like to be able to note beginnings and ends.

What have we seen and done this year? Some bloggers like to look back at their old posts and remember, perhaps by month, what the past year looked like based on what they wrote. Some people like to use news stories to remind us of where we've been and what we've seen.

I'm just going to take a couple of minutes and try to remember. I have a bit of coffee left, and I really need to take a shower. I have to be at work in about an hour and a half. I have no idea what comes after that, hopefully me on the torso of a hot young man.

But seriously folks, let's try to remember. Last new year's eve saw me and Momma and the boys sitting at home, sampling a bit of sparkling wine, watching television, waiting for the ball or the apple or the peach or whatever to drop.

Soon into the year it became painfully obvious that I needed to find work. I was still announcing for the roller girls. I wanted desperately to find a man, and I did find a couple, but nothing lasted there beyond a couple of hours.

I found a job at the sushi bar days before Momma was fired, and I didn't return for more than a check after that, three days pay was nice to have. Shortly thereafter I took a job for three weeks cooking at my default bar. The hours were shit and the pay was equally shit, so when Momma talked to the boss at the gpub where she is still employed I jumped at the chance.

Nothing of note happened for some time until at a friend's girlfriend's party late in the summer I met a nice young man, much younger than I, but really that's neither here nor there. We seemingly couldn't get enough of each other, and within a week he asked if we could be boyfriends.

I jumped at that as we seemed such a great fit. I'd never had a boyfriend before, and the next couple of months were full of wonderfulness and weirdness. My kids thought he was great, and he was willing to hang out and enjoy my kid's company. He still has a Paper Mario game saved that he will never finish. Then suddenly, while I was still a great boyfriend and a great guy, he was just not into me, and that quick it was over.

In the meantime, Momma met a guy, another friend of a friend, and they seem to have hit it off. I have mixed feelings about the guy, but he's not my boyfriend, and my only real concern is Momma and what is best for her.

In the middle of all of the above I lost my job at the gpub and spent nearly two months searching for another. I finally did find one, making slightly less than at the gpub, but I'm infinitely happier with this place. I like nearly everyone I work with. I like the food mostly, and even though I seem to seldom leave the dish room, I am happy.

And now we are at the end of the year, and I have to go to work, and then I don't know what I'll do next. I have an invitation to a party from a friend of a friend. Momma has been invited to this same party by the girlfriend of the guy who invited me. She'll be their with her boyfriend, and I'm of two minds about my own attendance. I want to do something not with Momma and her boyfriend, but at the same time I'm sure I'll know lots of people at this party, and I do love hanging out with Momma. Chances are I'll end my night near where I work, possibly with workmates, probably not with a cute young man.

And we'll ring in the new year with shouts and cheers and drinks and I'll try to kiss someone who won't want me to as they will likely not be into boys. I'll deal with it, I'll come home drunk and depressed, and I don't have to work tomorrow.

That's really all I have for now, so I'll proofread this beast of a post, and then it's off to take a dump and a shower, though not at exactly the same time. Also I still need to brush my teeth.

So, from the deepest and warmest nether regions of my stone cold heart I wish each and every one of you exactly what you deserve. I hope you all find twenty dollars on the street and send it to me. I hope you all can come to my town for a visit and bring me all your gays. I need a car and a place to live, and that's how I'll begin my new year, searching yet again.

is seven the lonliest number? meh

Suddenly I'm just not sure what to think. At this moment I'm thinking it would be nice if the boys would actually pick up some of this crap left over from our busy Christmas time. Yes, there is still some trash and lots of toys and toy parts laying around. If not a hugely extravagant Christmas, it was still a messy one, as usual.

Next on the thinking about agenda would be my new reader. In the line of brothers I am number five of seven. Number two has been a reader for some time, but I learned last week that number six is now reading, having gotten my info from number two.

Number six found himself mentioned in a recent post, probably the one in which I referred to my family's still pending Christmas celebration as a possible nest of vipers. He emailed me to explain a bit of new family history among other things. I was immensely happy to hear from and a bit disconcerted to learn that he was my newest reader. Then I grew to find myself less anxious as I replied and soon enough got a reply in return.

So it seems like another brother will be willing to discuss things in a reasonable manner. Did I mention he's read both blogs? I'm certain I haven't included anything too lurid at the other place, though that was a huge reason for having another place, but even with the other place, I find I personally am not comfortable with too much lurid.

It's good that I learned of his presence after he'd been around for a bit. I can't imagine how far back he has yet read, and he's quite welcome, of course, to read as far back as he wants. I'm just happy that I don't feel too great a need to cover my ass or to change what and how I go about blogging since he's bound to see me as glorious as I tend to get. This of course brings up the lurid blog, because if he's going there then my tales of all the sexual misadventures I'm not actually having any of may not ever see the light of day.

So, welcome to the ol' deskfull number six. It's good to have you. Feel free at any time to throw a comment this way, especially if it might add to the discussion. Also, I will be emailing you soon enough, but I have workshirts and socks in the need-to-do laundry, a measly pay check to deposit, and a headlight to purchase followed by work. I'm also hoping to get out tonight and see the band of a couple of friends as they have their our-guitar-player-is-in-town-for-three-days-let's-rock reunion show.

shelled nuts

I almost wrote a post about this being the eight hundredth post, and then I wrote some nonsense about my last post, and I couldn't remember when that was. There have been interesting incidence of things happening since late on the eve of Christmas eve, and then there's been a variety of whatnot since then.

I did end up looking and realized I'd added a couple of drafts and that I can actually just click on published posts if I really want to know. So if you care, that's why this isn't about being any sort of number representing something. Just so you know.

It's not as long and sordid a tale as it could be, but it certainly has it's moments. Christmas was fun enough. I won't mention that I got cash and some English Leather gift set sort of thing with four little bottles of cologne, most of which I never heard of and all entirely useless to me. Who wouldn't rather a man just smell like himself, preferrably a recently cleaned version?

We hung out with MIL on Christmas eve far later than we should have and then visited Momma's dad's family, showing up when most of us would have been leaving in past years, or so it felt. Momma and one aunt, then eventually the other aunt, ended up in the kitchen shrieking and laughing and being girls. I sat with the men and sort of tried to see the t.v. from where I really couldn't. I tried to be nice to everyone as usual, made what I felt were appropriate jokes at the appropriate times.

We came home and put the boys to bed. Momma and I drank beer and sat up late and wrapped Star Wars Lego and Littlest Pet Shop. We placed this year's haul of used books between the two meager piles. We drank what might have been the very best gift, Momma having brought home a bottle of Tanqueray, we had gin and tonic most of the night as we perfected the pint glass gin and tonic.

She's still my favorite person to sit up and drink perhaps a little too much with. I can't help as I think this but to consider 2009 and what it's going to be. But that's a whole other post.

Christmas day broke warm and sunny, the best we could hope for considering the rains we've had lately. I really shouldn't complain, as usually the worst some rain is going to do to me is make me do the crate walk across the basement to the pump so I can jiggle and/or stir it back to life. Then I wait to relight the water heater. I have to remember to show Momma this or get a rain soaked call sometime next year when someone's shower stopped being warm slowly.

It was my first Christmas waking on the couch, and all the coffee was shitty Eight O'Clock beans. Blech! But I soldiered on and greeted the day with at least a smirk, toning down my usual sneer. Our usual Christmas morning, the boys check out their stockings and anything not wrapped that they have reason to believe might be for them. Either Momma or I will be making coffee at this point, and as the coffee enters the room and is settled away from where it represents a danger, the boys finally look to the wrapped gifts.

We were lazy for the majority of the day. Eventually Momma decided that it was time to visit Grandmother, though we knew a set leaving time as we'd invited friends over after a certain time. Dinner at Grandmother's was fun. It was several of the people from the previous night minus one, plus four. And then it was back home.

A few friends stopped by, mostly families, the kind of people who know what BYOB means and don't care that you've obviously thrown some shit together as an offering to their kids when we realize at the last minute that they got our kids stuff. But it was cool. We drank beer. We stood outside and smoked. The kids behaved mostly, and now that her mom finally took her too cute little boots home we now have a darling child's too cute tiny pink glittery shoes when they finally turned up. Next year we'll save up all the shoes she leaves here and give that to her for Christmas.

And to make matters odder, there was a child's birhtday party at the place I work recently, the daughter of someone in the family for whom I work. After the party, as everyone was getting up to leave, I spied the birthday girl, and she wearing a pair of fuzzy pink butterfly wings, and a certain part of me saw those wings and fell in love. I kind of want my own butterfly wings.

And eventually I went to bed. I worked the next two days and was then off today. Very little happened between those two days for me. I went out for drinks one of those nights and had a very serious discussion with Momma that was not about me. There may or may not be news on that front soon enough, but that's all of that I've got for now.

finally this season's christmas song

Let's not pretend the spirit of the season ever did fully enrapture me, but I did spend a fair amount of the day on the youtubes finding Christmas music I thought the kids would like. I was playing The Nutcracker that we usually welcome the season with when one of the boys mentioned one of the songs and was remembering The Brian Setzer Orchestra's Nutcracker Suite from the Elf soundtrack.

That started the video-go-round, and eventually I settled on yet another top Christmas song to add the aforementioned (in another post) top favorite Christmas songs. The search for more wasn't hard, and I was reminded of another top favorite that I have posted about, but I don't think I've shared the other slightly funnier version. This is definitely not a list of the videos we found, but since most of you won't bother to listen to the songs anyway, I'm only adding two.



Starting with the new fave that's actually an older song we have Buck Owens singing Santa Looks A Lot Like Daddy. I love Buck.


Number next on our list is Rufus Wainwright doing his song Spotlight On Christmas. It's a good enough song by itself, but add in French and Saunders, and it's like a parade of awesome.

maybe more feeling?

This post is for Molly because I did something Christmasy with the kids, and she commented recently that I should. We had hot chocolate and popcorn and watched A Christmas Story, one of my all time favorite Christmas movies.

We are planning more holiday movie watching that will involve one of the other greatest of the genre, the almighty Elf. There will be more hot chocolate, but instead of popcorn, or maybe in addition to, there will be peppermint ice cream. Also Momma will be in attendance. Our schedules require that we plan a bit more than on the day of.

Also, while we will be visiting the part of the family that I really, really would prefer not to, we are making plans to bail early with some lame, possibly made up excuse. We might make cookies as well, though that might be pushing it a little for me. We also may attempt to invite friends over in which case there will be noise and beer and other children.

In light of her comment, I'm less sure how I should feel about this whole thing. I don't want to force myself to pretend things I don't, because I've done that for a long time. I get that making oneself smile can actually act to lighten one's mood, but this kind of goes beyond that.

In the interest of not liquefying the already beaten dead horse I'll end the post here. But I do want to make it known that, in my smallish and lame way I'm sort of trying. I'm at least trying to do what I feel is right.

Also, let me point out that my links are Christmas colors. I usually just make them all red, but in some amount of spirit of the season I've added green as well.

dreamz with wings

I met Zophia very recently, and I've only hung out with her once, at a Halloween party, but I already have some amount of respect for her, especially for the work she does.

I want to post about her because one of her current projects deserves to be highlighted, and she deserves any help that finds its way to her. Her medium is metal and fire, sculptures built with found and recycled metals through her studio, Burning Art.

Her website is HERE where one can see some of the amazing work she's done. But what I really want to tell you about is her Dreamz with Wings. I don't know the whole story, but if you go HERE you can learn more for yourself. I do know that she is creating sculptures and selling them to raise financial support for a friend who is battling cancer.

I've seen her work up close and am happy that, though I barely know her, I do know someone capable of this sort of thing. I hope that my brief mention here can bring her support as well as new admirers. It's a worthy cause, so please at least visit the links I've provided.

And when you visit the Dreamz page, make sure to check out the cat with wings. I was taken a tiny bit aback upon seeing it because it reminded me of a tattoo idea that's sort of in the back of my head

oh no he dituhn

Remember a few days ago when I explained the real problems with Anakin Skywalker's epic battle with Obi-Wan Kenobi? It was a great post, and it basically contained my arguments in regards to the fail that George Lucas created by allowing both these characters to live. The post came about due to a late night and possibly slightly drunken discussion/argument with my friend Franklin who you should by now be aware of.

This conversation was reenacted with slightly different points made a couple of evenings later, and Franklin has now posted on his own blog with his sorely misguided counteraregument. Yes, I do indeed intend to not let this die.

One mistake in Franklin's post is his contention that the younglings took no effort to kill in that they are in fact younglings and have not had the same training that a true Jedi or even a padawan would have had. He seems to miss my point in this instance, though in general I find that he and I have equally valid points assuming one accepts the difference in the Star Wars univers and reality.

I'll point out that I accept the difference in created fiction and reality, but at the same time, no matter how much suspension of disbelief one allows for, one also has to accept that, given the similarity in physical laws evident there are some things one has to accept.

First to the younglings argument. My point has nothing to do with their lack of skill and training. Of course they are young and weak and untrained, but it's just that innocence that Anakin so wantonly destroyed that, in my opinion, allowed his use of the dark side to grow. It's the difference between killing uniformed soldiers versus decimating a city block with anonymous bombs. The willingness to face the soldier versus the willingness to kill with no regard allows one side to accept that there are no limits to how low one will stoop. It's the difference between slapping a man in the face as opposed to sneaking a kick to the nuts from behind.

Now, on the the next bit of the debate, that raw power can never equal skill. Anakin was highly skilled and well trained to the point where he should have been given full Jedi Knight status instead of being held back. I'll use Franklin's judo argument. As he points out, one skilled in judo will easily be able to use his knowledge to defeat a much larger and powerful opponent. However, given the same amount of expertise and training in judo between the two opponents, the fight will most likely go the way of the larger and more powerful of the two. Add on to that skill and training the willingness to accept no limits and the larger opponent becomes that much more formidable especially if the weaker opponent is willing only to work within the set skillset percieved to be true judo.

I'm more than willing for any other points to be argued. I'll listen to anyone nerdy enough to join this exchange. I'm pretty sure that of my couple of readers I have some scifi fans with an opinion on this subject, and I welcome any points of view.

feel it or not, here it comes

There's every chance I've mentioned this by now, and perhaps over the past couple of years I've made similar points, but this is Christmas season, and I suppose I could make the point again.

This one is different though. I may have hated Christmas in the past, but the combined efforts of Momma's love of the season and my own desire to give my children some of the assumed magic of the season has worked to make me less of a Scrooge.

I'm not feeling the exact Scroogely leanings I may have in the past, but I'm just not feeling Christmas at all this year. I did take a couple of minutes earlier today and found the two songs that almost always work. And they basically failed. I could almost feel a little glimmer of the light as Little Elf sat down in Santa's chair, almost feel a spark of the joy as Run, DMC and Jay found Santa's wallet and returned home for Mom's chicken and greens, but even Christmas in Hollis wasn't enough. I'm not sure what I expected from The Ramones other than getting to hear one of the greatest bands ever, and really, Merry Christmas Baby isn't the most inspiring of songs when it's the cheer and joy of the season you're after.

We have a tree. I had no part in choosing or decorating it. Last week in my little town was warm enough to have gone out any day, but Momma worked most days, and it rained every day. She broke down and bought one from the hardware store to avoid missing out. It was decorated while I was at work.

The tree story doesn't really bother me. I wonder if I'd been part of the picking and putting and related decorating if I'd have begun to get the feeling, but I don't really regret not being part of it. It isn't really bothering me. On top of that, the remains of the decorating, the unused ornaments, the various baubles that are not tree bound decorations, still sit around in the floor, taking up space. The kitchen is a wreck and has been for days. The recycling is piling up, empty but rinsed beer cans, rinsed and flattened milk jugs, overflowing paper bin, roasting pan in the sink filled with disgusting grease water and various other dishes that have found their way onto the pile.

With the separation of Momma's and my finances I've been unable personally to purchase any more than one gift and that for The Boy. I did help Momma pick our usual pile of books, but she paid for them. The other gifts for them she went shopping for, and my only help there was reading off, over the phone, the list she'd made and forgotten.

I'm sure the financial situation is not helping. My first check from the new job was for most of a week, and my next check is due the day after Christmas, and I'm not really getting the hours I need to make it a reasonable size. Giving Momma money to cover some of the gift load will help me feel that I've helped purchase gifts for my children, but I was only actually present for those I've mentioned. She and I haven't discussed gifts between the two of us. I don't know what family plans there are, and I don't know how she plans to work her boyfriend into any of this.

So I'm back to the just not feeling it this year. That it's only days away doesn't have the same creeping yet suddenly there feeling of years past. I kind of just want it to be over. January promises to be the month of change as I look forward to moving out. My own family is getting together a week and a half into the new year for our annual family get together, and my mother would very much like for us all to be there. There's a whole nest of potential vipers in that one brother has a new wife this year, one brother apparently just left his girlfriend to return to his wife, and one brother (me) has finally told the family that he's gay. I almost don't want to bother with the possible situations and discussions I can only imagine. And will Momma and I be able to coordinate our schedules and money to be able to make the drive south?

I just want all of Christmas, every single last little bit of it, to go away. It's not so much that I want it to be over because that suggests getting through it. I don't want to bother with having to do the stuff that Christmas is so much as just want it to go away.

I'm not celebrating an interstellar entity coming to earth to fornicate with a human woman and recreate himself in human form who is both father and son in one divine package, and solstice, though it celebrates the return of the light and the growing day always just seems like another lie as we actually look forward to more winter and colder days and nights. I hate the cold, and I'm already tired of my feet being cold and my fingers being clumsy and stiff. I want spring and renewal and a new love.

But, as the time honored saying suggests, I can wish in one hand and shit in the other. I think we all know which one will find itself fullest quickest.

random killa-whatsis

There is no argument that will sway me. No matter what you bring to the table, and I like to think I've heard it all, but there is nothing you can say to change my mind. And I only mention this because it came up tonight, and I feel I must preserve my opinion in blog form for posterior's sake.

Simply put, once Anakin had opened himself up to the whole of the force that the dark side represents, he was operating on such a whole other playing field from Obi-Wan that nothing Obi-Wan could even have dreamed of doing with the force would have stopped Anakin from killing him.

The absolute and only reason that Obi-Wan lived was to provide continuity between the light and dark sides of George Lucas's Star Wars. We can all accept the originals for the brilliance they provided, but I personally find them overshadowed by the crap that eventually gave us the origins of the conflict.

And to cap it all off, we have to sit through that final battle scene. I'm sure I've had something to say about it, because I'm quite certain I covered these movies when I finally was bothered to see them. I really did put it off for a good long time. Again, it wouldn't come up except that it already came up once tonight. Posterior and all that.

Okay, you want my reasoning? You want more of my point? Because it always seems like people tend to disagree with me, and I have to bring up the younglings. Remember when we see the aftermath in the secret Jedi headquarters? Remember everyone being dead? Yeah, Anakin, fully embracing the entirety of the force.

Somewhere awaiting the epic battle we have Obi-Wan, eventual nearly hero. He does help Luke focus on the force, but now we know it's just a bunch of meta-chlori-someshits in the blood. I'm not even getting into the fail that this is in being instrumental in ruining a great story line.

The real point is that, Obi-Wan, being the good little Jedi, was trained to only accept some part of the force as being good. He's only willing to use a certain amount of this power. He spends a lot of time learning how to use this narrow bandwidth of force.

Anakin, on the other hand, has also been training in that one part and has proved himself adept. He also has been drawn to the greater power of the entire force, including the part that lies outside what his current associates are practicing.

I can see no reason for Obi-Wan to have survived. Anakin should quite successfully have killed him a number of times in the final battle. He has the reason that seems valid to him, and he's accepted the whole of the force by being willing to destroy entirely anyone he feels stands between him and his goal. If nothing else, his destruction of the whole of the Jedi temple, and especially in light of the younglings killed, he was willing to accept such power as to be unstoppable. The very limits Obi-Wan and all the Jedis accepted and forced on themselves were their downfall.

And really, that is my youngling argument. The power it took for him to destroy all the Jedis and allowed him to accept the destruction of the younglings was more than enough "dark" side for him to easily finish off Obi-Wan.

The only reason Obi-Wan survived, given all that, was, he had to. Which to me means some sort of George Lucas director fail. I don't want it to be that, and I don't wishe Obi-Wan dead, but given what I've seen, I just can accept the outcome. It's almost as bad as Jar-Jar. Period.

And seriously, this post wasn't part of my night a very short time ago. I really didn't mean to come home and blog. I haven't even taken my jacket off or even smoked since I've been home. It's all posterity. I had to record it for time imemorial. You'll thank me one day when you find yourself citing this blot post to justify your dissatisfaction once the Lucan canon somehow becomes scripture and we find ourselves justifying ourselves based on that, Luke and Indiana competing for our obeisance and offerings.

not to put too fina a point on it

Via Box Turtle Bulletin

Yes, the representation that gay people will have at the inauguration will be a gay marching band included among the couple dozen bands that will march down Pennsylvania Avenue after the swearing in ceremony.

Make sure you go to the Box Turtle Bulletin link, because they say it really well. Then put them in your blog reader. Pay attention to why we are not as gay(happy) as we could be.

I get a preacher who compares me to perverts given the privilege of representing those like himself, but to actually represent me? Yeah, a band, one of many bands.

I'm happy there will be fags, and I love marching bands, but seriously, once again, fuck you Obama.

And, not to hammer the point home, but this is pretty much what I've come to expect. If I want gay in my life I have to go out of my way to find it. I don't run across gay just living and being. I don't see me represented on t.v. or in movies unless it's to make a point, but I never seem to just see plain old people who happen to be gay and are represented as normal. Okay, there's Michael Chabon, an amazing author, and there's specifically gay stuff, but where am I represented as just plain ol' normal nondescript me?

Seriously, I'm getting fucking fed up. At this point I'm just trying to live and make sense of my world. I would be sooo fucking happy to think I had a chance at finding love, a chance to make some progress, a chance to just be me and be okay. And once again I'm tossed a hand full of shit and expected to choke it down with a smile.

I want this to end. I want this to stop being an issue. I want to be okay.