not really parallels

Something came up in my reader in one of the blogs that I've only recently discovered, The Bygone Bureau. It has absolutely nothing to do with the German homeschool whatever, but it is about aspects of German education as seen by an American living in Germany and teaching.

If you aren't a homeschooler or into home education news then you may well have no idea why I even mention Germany and homeschooling together, but if you are aware of this particular not a news story then you can imagine I thought of it when I saw an article about Germany and education. I'm only aware of the story because as homeschoolers we can't help but at least know it exists as a story.

Unlike my usual m.o. I offer no opinion. I found the article interesting, but then this writer, Locke McKenzie and the particular blog The Rambling American were what coaxed me to look further at The Bygone Bureau in the first place.

driven to the brink

Via advocate.com today I read the story of an eleven year old boy committing suicide. According to his mother he was tired of being teased and bullied and called gay. The article doesn't tell us whether or not the child was or was not gay, but I don't really think it matters.

According to the mother she attempted to work with the school and tried to get them to stop the bullying, and according to her the school was entirely unresponsive.

And now for my anger.

1) what is so hard about not allowing school children to use discriminatory language? Are the kids also allowed to use racially based words to insult each other? Are they allowed to use religious based words to insult each other? When will it no longer be okay to use words that belittle based on an assumption of sexual orientation?

2) why would a parent continue to put their child in situations where they are terrorized in such a way? Why not stop sending the child to a place, even if it is school, where they are going to be antagonized and hurt on a daily basis?

I don't want to think about this story, because honestly I have enough on my mind. I can depress myself quite easily. And if I think about this poor little boy, this child so close in age to my oldest son, if I think about it I'm going to cry, and I'm going to be angry, and I'm going to wonder about the children who drove this child to take his own life. I'm going to wonder about the type of parents who raise children to treat others like this.

As long as there are people in this world willing to demonize me and other gay people then we are going to continue to see this sort of fallout. We are going to continue to see children taking their lives, and we are all poorer for having these hate mongering monsters still alive, still walking around, still screaming their homophobic epithets and claiming victim status when we demand they stop. The real victim is gone. He wrapped an extension cord around his neck and said, "no more." Why was this the only way to stop his hurt?

we have plenty in the freezer

In the distance, slowly approaching, I hear it, the ice cream van.

I hate the ice cream van. It's not just the obnoxious music or the even more annoying "HELLO" that sounds so full of attitude.

More than anything it's probably my cheapness coupled with my lack of funds. I get tired of telling the boys no. I want to buy them ice cream, and I'd love to buy the ice cream based novelties sold out of the annoying van. The boys some days want so much to get ice cream from the van.

But I hate the van. I hate hearing it blocks away and never knowing exactly where it is. I hate people marketing to my children, especially getting up in our faces pretty much in our home. Television commercials are one thing, providing fuel for a steady diet of "I want that." But they are commercials, and I think that, from a fairly young age, most of us grow immune to the near constant deluge and are able to shut out the ads.

Not so with the damned ice cream van. Even inside the house the sound worms its way in, and there it is "HELLO" amidst the horrors of music that could only be worse were it a midi file, though that may actually help, but given the two options it's sort of like the difference between wiping your ass with sand paper or just slapping it clean with the binder of a spiral notebook.

oh so tired

I did not sleep for shit last night. I didn't drink much, and I really don't want that to be the reason I couldn't sleep, but considering I spent the night in the bed of someone I don't actually know doesn't really sound like the greatest reason either.

After getting off work last night I carried my shift beer up the square to the pub only to decide that I wouldn't be spending any time there due to the horrid nature of the music. I went to the little honky tonk bar for a beer only to learn that there was no one there I wanted to hang out with. A quick beer there, and I left for the gay bar.

I didn't expect much there, not much more than a beer. I knew there was a really good chance that I'd run into the last two guys I let pick me up, and I did.

One of those two didn't see me at first, though I saw him. I wasn't actively avoiding him, and I'd be willing to spend more time with him, but I'm not sure what he's looking for any more than I can pinpoint exactly what it is I'm looking for. He gave me the old "did you lose my number?" routine which I served right back. His phone is no more one way than mine. Of course now I'm debating whether to text him and start our conversation up again. I'd kind of like to see him, but I just don't know. He had to have seen me leaving with the guy I left with, especially considering he was sitting next to me at the bar when I left.

One of the bartenders was off and hanging out. He's young, really hot, and dating someone. He approached me at one point to say Hi and that he had a friend he wanted to set me up with, a friend he claimed needed a boyfriend. I was open to meet someone.

And then suddenly there was someone else sitting next to me at the bar, a fairly young looking and fairly hot someone, a guy giving me this look and telling me that he thought I was hot. I can't say that I went there with the intent of hooking up with someone, but I have to admit that some amount of going to the gay bar involves some amount of at least willingness to hook up.

And I didn't sleep for shit. It's been a while since I had one of those doze for a minute wake for a minute nights, and last night was one of them. I'm not unhappy with any of what happened, but again, given my two options of why I didn't sleep, I can't say either of them make me proud. Either I'm a drunk or a slut, both labels I'm okay with wearing for the moment but not the place I want to be.

dear friend

I know that you think your boyfriend is hot. He does seem to have a nice enough body under his overalls, and believe me when I say I don't have anything against overalls.

Yes, the hillbilly mohawk is kind of cute(ish) on him as is the chinhawk(not really) and yes he is amazing on the pedal steel.

It's probably a very good thing that you are so attracted to him, and honestly, why else would you have initially gotten together were it not for a mutual sexual attraction? That's pretty much how we humans seem to find ourselves in these sorts of things.

I don't find your boyfriend unattractive, but really, do you need your gay friend to agree with your opinion of your boyfriend's hotness? Do I really have to tell you what you want to hear?

So, really, let it go already. I'm not going to pretend he's hot, so you can stop pretending to be so damn offended. We'll still be friends, and I'll still not want him, and that's okay. I've got enough issues with straight guys that I don't need yours added on.

Thanks!

allowed

"God is allowing me to go back to school." So reads a message from a "friend" posted on Facebook. Other friends have commented back, generally congratulating this person on their utter helplessness in the face of the absolutely mundane thing he has allowed god to do, a thing that millions of people do all on their own with no need to thank an interstellar being.

I'm amazed at this sort of thing, though I should be used to it, as it's the sort of mindset that I grew up with. It's as if we are just mindless automatons that can't think or do for ourselves without the guiding hand of space grandpa providing his willingness to allow.

I'll admit that I haven't made the best decisions in life, and I'm likely to make some bad decisions in the future. I let myself down much more often than I should, but I'm willing to admit this and own my mistakes. I don't need someone of questionable existence to accept all the blame or all the credit for what I do.

I guess I just don't get it. Of course these are the people who see an accidental pregnancy as the payment you must accept, along with the next eighteen years of child rearing, as a just punishment for a sexual indiscretion, so I think we can accept that their reason is often a bit skewed.

But seriously? God allowed you to get into school? And I bet he spoke in the ear of the person reviewing the different applications? Did he secretly rubber stamp the application when the office wasn't looking? Did he make the other applications illegible?

I'm ending up so far from any point I thought I was going to make and have ended up too close to crazy wing nut rant land. I can't think clearly when it comes to this sort of thing. I think I'll turn the rant off for now.

oops, I seem to have . . .

Yes, I did it again. I saw it coming, and I didn't do anything about it. I suppose there's nothing I can do about it, and I kind of hate it, but at the same time I doubt there's much I can do about it.

I have a crush on a straight boy.

He's the roommate of a guy I work with who isn't not hot in his own way, but he isn't the sort of guy who I have to assume is my type. I'm sure there's a point at which the line that represents "my type" corresponds with hot enough, but we aren't graphing that particular concern at the moment, and we won't likely visit it in another post, so we're left to ponder.

The roommate however seems to fall into a category that I've been recognizing as "my type." He's roughly my size/height, but he has really dark hair/eyes, and there's a certain charm, a bit of something I can't name. I like him.

And he likes girls.

I've sort of hung out with him here and there, and the moment I saw him I was a little smitten, so the having hung out only seems to add to the problem. I hung out with him a bit tonight, and the whole time I was torn between knowing I have no chance with him and continuing to enjoy his company in a way that makes me want him even more.

And it's not just that he's hot, though he certainly is. I can't claim to know him too horribly well. Like I said, I've sort of hung out with him here and there, though the here as well as the there are either the place I work or the bar a few doors down.

He is really more a symptom than the problem. I should even admit that it isn't that it's even such a huge problem. I'd wager it is an ongoing concern among gay men in general, so it isn't even an issue common only to me. It does get annoying at times.

He does of course have to get in line. There are at least two other straight guys that I know and am somewhat friends with for whom I seem to harbor some desirous feelings. No amount of Jedi mind trickery is going to make any of them suddenly gay, though I won't pretend I'm not trying. I guess for now I'll just keep my imagination oiled and ready, waiting, ready for that moment.

hating patience, well, not hating it, just having to be it

This is one of those moments when I feel I have absolutely nothing to say, but I feel compelled anyway. So out with it.

My right hand hurts like hell. It isn't a constant thing, but certain movements are really unpleasant. I can't think of any specific thing I did, but I'm fairly certain there was at least one whanging with the back of the hand some part of the car in my attempts to fix the car.

In the end I gave up on my attempt at car repair. It was breaking the 3/8 to quarter inch adapter that finally did me in. You may remember the 6+2(3) inch adapter that was going to allow me access to the bolts on the exhaust pipe that I couldn't reach, and here too was the demise of the 3/8 to quarter inch adapter. It was a borrowed tool, but it's Craftsman, so it's replaceable.

I did in fact take the car to a shop and have it fixed for a sum more than I'd intended but less than that which I could have paid. I did bring my own oil pan and gasket, so that was money saved, and they found the bottle of oil I had (just in case) and added that in with what they put in.

And I'm ever so happy to have my car back. This feeling of my car is still somewhat new. Momma has had her own car for a short time, and then suddenly my car was leaking entirely too much oil, and as it sat parked for much of the time, not to mention on jackstands two different times, I've driven Momma's car a good bit, and we've had to continue the running each other to and from work that having two cars would have, and will, fix. So I'm back to having a car that is all my own.

I don't have to adjust the seat or the mirror suddenly. They're always right where I left them. It's nice not hitting my knee as I get in and realize the seat is too close to the steering wheel. I may even spill less coffee this way.

I just got a phone call from Momma. She believes my phone is not accepting texts from, claims that she's texted me four times. I don't have any new texts from her, and her phone is the one that's sadly and slowly (or not so slowly) dying. I don't know what to say to that.

And the US MNT beat Trinidad and Tobago in Nashville tonight with Jozey Altidore scoring all the goals in a 3-0 match.

frustrated update

In addition to the cross member that I finally did have to move I'm now faced with more parts removal to access the part that I actually need to remove and replace.

The little bit of exhaust pipe that runs under the oil pan must also come out. I was fairly certain I'd be able to work around it, but such is not the case.

Did I mention my growing frustration with this repair? I'm certain I may have at some point.

I'm about to leave the house to visit a friend. I'm going to borrow two three inch socket extensions to add to my new six inch and hope that I actually get twelve inches that will allow me to remove three bolts out of eight that I need to pull to get the exhaust pipe out of the way.

Also, it's raining again, and I can see out the window the small pile of cat litter that is supposed to be soaking up the oil in the driveway. Did I mention having accidentally stepped in it earlier? The rain is turning it into an especially delightful and disgusting mud.

laid out flat

The front end of my poor car is off the ground yet again. The job is slightly harder than I'd hoped and involves moving a support arm that I'd hoped to be able to work around. The socket extension that I borrowed from Momma's boyfriend was already on its way to broken, and I finished breaking it before I finished needing it. Rather than finish the job yesterday I finished that part of my day with a trip to Sears. Momma's boyfriend and I now own our very own six inch, 3/8 inch socket extension.

I'm off work today and should have the entire day to finish fixing my car. Today it's raining just enough to keep the ground wet and keep me out from under the car.

That's only one thing that's messing with my head today. The frustration that completing this one simple car repair task has become is starting to get to me. My weekend that I could have worked on this car was spent driving to, attending and returning from a roller derby bout in Cincinnati. It was a trip we'd planned, and I don't at all regret going, but sitting here now, frustrated about my car, it just seems like time added to the time I've not fixed the car.

There are other issues dancing around inside my head, things I won't go into just now. And it isn't that these other things are so big or are new or . . . It's just a dogpile of irritation and frustration, and I'm not doing the greatest job of fixing any of my issues. I keep finding myself in the moment frustrated and exasperated and feeling somewhat helpless that this moment there is nothing I can do.

Dr. Seuss called it the waiting place. I'm sure it's come up here before.

Bleah! This isn't the post I wanted to write today, and I actually did have some things I was thinking. If the rain continues to keep me from lying on my back on the asphalt under a few hundred pounds of Honda then maybe I can get to it.

I've also agreed to write a bout recap from Cincinnati, so I need to get to that before the day is over. I've tended to have a bad habit of putting those off in the past, and I find my recaps are better the sooner following the bout I write them. And The Boy has just informed me that he's hungry. My answer of "good for you" won't really help him get anything to eat, so I suppose that's my cue.

oil slicks

So, did I tell you about my car? It's been leaking a god awful amount of oil for too long, and I finally had the time and weather to prop the bitch up and look underneath.

I really hoped it would be the gasket on the oil pan, and I did get a new gasket as well as plenty of new oil and a filter. It's a bit past oil change time, so we'll do them all together.

The car sits on jack stands in the back driveway, a drain pan beneath the dripping. We have a long and obnoxious oil slick running down the driveway because I never thought to kick a pan under the car when it was parked. I did think of it yesterday, but that's several days and most of a dollar short.

Whether or not the gasket is good is of no consequence at this point. I crawled under the car and soon realized the real problem. Somehow or other the oil pan is cracked. I hate even admitting it, but either Momma or I has had an accident that went unmentioned. It obviously didn't have to have been much, and I could guess it might have been something that didn't seem, at the time, to have been so bad.

It doesn't really matter how or by whom, so I won't dwell on it. I also won't dwell on ninety bucks for a new oil pan. I called a couple of places and checked a couple places online. In the end it's Eddie's up the road a bit. They've got a hill full of old cars to pick from and can find me a used one.

The boys and I, in Momma's car (thanks Momma!) took a drive north today. The place sort of sneaks up on you as things can do on this highway. The road runs over and around and through a series of ridges, so it's quite easy for something to be sitting out in the valley below you or hidden behind a wide curve.

I talked to the nice lady and confirmed my need for an oil pan with a cash deposit. Our recent rain is making their job harder as they drive the tractor to find the car from which to pull the part, so I'm expecting a call tomorrow that my oil pan is ready for me to come pick up. With any luck it will be early enough in the day that I can fix my car in time for work.

And that's the story up to this point. I do so hope that the repair doesn't bring to light any further destruction or needs. I want this (and the brake light) to be the last thing I have to fix for a while. I also put two tires on it this week, the day that I went for my oil change supplies, so for the moment, I'm about car repaired out.

looked at

I went to look at a house yesterday. I liked it, but the person with whom I've agreed to be a roommate has not yet seen it. I should think she'd like it, but I can't know that without her seeing it and agreeing.

The house is a good deal and in a location I love. I'll admit that it puts me in easy walking distance of two bars I tend to frequent occasionally, but it's even less of a walk to a playground and small park.

I know and am friends with the person renting the upstairs of this house, and that proximity to this person and people around her would be good for me.

The house itself is beautiful, over a hundred years old, full of wood and mantels and huge doors and a claw foot bathtub.

I'm pretty sure I could move in almost immediately. I met the owner yesterday, and he and I seemed to get along well enough, the forty year age difference not seeming to play any part at all. We ended up wasting the better part of an hour wandering through the house more times than we needed to, commenting on the beauty in the architectural features, admiring his work in hanging blinds and working around the more than a century gap between those windows and modern windows, and they don't make curtains that long anymore.

Not rushing into a deal of course sounds like a good idea, but I want to give the proper amount of credence it deserves, no more and no less. Because I really want this space, but I don't want to be an idiot about it. Am I overlooking cons in favor of the pros? Am I intentionally ignoring anything I know should be a deal breaker? I really don't think so.

So the problem is aligning potential landlord with potential roommate. I only know what she tells me, and I'm not sure how antsy she is to move compared with how antsy she claims. I know she just moved into a place and has no lease and wants to get back closer to town rather than being in some other county that I couldn't place though I am familiar with its existence.

And that's where I am as of right now. I can't stop thinking about this house, and I really want to move, like now. I feel sometimes as if I've put this off much too long, but I also fear the next big cut, the moving out, the total separation that comes with actually starting life not somewhat attached to this woman I've . . . actually, I don't know that this is the post for that conversation. Yes, there's still a weirdness attached to this whole thing. I guess it's just one of those situations where a good thing sort of feels like a bad thing in the here and now.

things I don't do

Nothing much happened this past week, or so it seems, but then quite a bit happened as well. Momma got a car, and I finally looked at a place to live other than the one I am now in. I didn't hang out outside the square very much other than the night I went to the bar that has all too often proved unsafe for me, and I didn't dance.

As we all should know by now, I don't dance. I accept that there is a point I could find at which I may feel okay about dancing, but as the social function it is on a packed dance floor with too loud music that I don't actually like is a recipe for too much for me.

Other people do not have any issue with dancing, and for them I can accept that it's none of the ways I think about it. It isn't an unpleasant place for them but is in fact an enjoyable portion of their evening out.

Too often though people don't get or just won't accept that I don't dance. They want me to, and they tell me all the good things that will come of dancing. I was even offered the chance to meet all of a particular friend's "gay boys" if I would just come with her. To make matters worse for me was that this group of people were at the farthest point in the dancing throng that one could get. I really wasn't wading through that to get to them.

I suppose I sort of do wonder if getting over it and dancing might not be good for me, but I also hate that I should have to. I don't get why anyone would act as though they need me to dance. I don't need their presence next to me to sit at the bar and drink beer and talk to people.

And sitting here thinking about it, what I most prefer is moving around, running into people I know, just hanging out. So, next time we hang out, remember that. I don't dance, but don't I don't care if you do. Go! Have fun.

Oh, and you aren't yet getting the story just now about this particular bar at which I seem never to have a good time. I've collected a couple of stories about this place from other people. Some are similar to mine while others are just messed up in relation to mine and those like it.

So, yeah, mysterious foreshadowing what?

motorcycles

First I should point out that I haven't ridden a lot of motorcycles over the course of my short life. I never had access to them in general. There was a family with whom my family were friends, and we visited them often over the years that we knew them. They had daughters the age of two of my older brothers and a son around the age of me and my next youngest brother. This kid did have a motorcycle or two, and a couple of times he actually took me riding.

Years later my next older brother bought a giant beast of a Honda Gold Wing, a bike I would never in my life imagine wanting to actually have. I have a whole other style when it comes to bikes, and it's a style that I never really allowed myself to think about till very recently.

I'm now going to make a connection that may seem a bit of a stretch, but in my mind it's sort of part of something similar. Do I start now with the disclaimer? I'm not into the gay fetishism of bikes and leather and the sort of things that go with that, but my interest in motorcycles is something that I feel I closeted like my being gay. It's something that I knew was there, but for whatever reasons I never allowed myself to consider.

It's always been there. I've always had to notice bikes wherever they are in relation to me. Even when they aren't the style or type that I would prefer I look and watch as long as I can see them. Even when it's a huge cruiser holding a pair of retirees who opted for the training wheels package I stop and look.

And now they're everywhere, now that I've allowed myself to accept that, somewhere deep inside me, there's a kid who never got a motorcycle but always wanted one. It reminds me of coming out, when I finally admitted and accepted that I like boys and not girls, boys were everywhere. It doesn't hurt that spring is trying to peep its first blossoms of warmth into the blue east Tennessee skies, because this town is a bike town, and they are everywhere.

If you want to see the sort of bike that forms a bulge in my pants then click HERE. It's an old Triumph and is so beautiful. I want one.

So, with some patience and hopefully some common sense, I'm going to get some more important things out of the way, things like finding a place to live and getting back to paying off the school loans, but there's a bug that's bitten me and an itch I'm going to have to scratch. I'm sticking some money in tiny increments somewhere no one but me will find it. I'm going to start looking for something probably oldish and beat up a little bit. I'm going to figure this thing out and make it happen.

new phone

At some point in the past I'm sure I bitched about my phone. It was dying a slow death. Now it lies forlorn and abandoned. I got a new phone.

I love texting, not in the way that a teenage girl does, but in the way that I hate making phone calls but often want to let people have access to a particular thought process that involves them.

This is technically the third phone I've had, though the first was technically a work phone. After some people misused their phones they were quickly taken away. My next phone was a few years later, and as of mother's day that phone will be four years old.

All of this to say that I'm on my third phone, though considering the work phone wasn't my primary phone, it could also be seen as only my second.

I took care of the Razr for the years I've had it. I never really used it that much in the beginning, but lately it's seen more and more use. It really has been time to replace it, so I finally did.

I think I got a decent deal, and considering the phones AT&T had to offer, it was the exact one I wanted. Sure there are fancier phones, but this one is a pretty green and has a qwerty keyboard, and the camera seems to take good pictures, and the actual phone works better than the old phone, or at least I think it does. Maybe I'm still high from new/pretty/fancy phone vapors.

So while the Blackberrys are neat and cool looking, and the iPhone is like, an iPhone duh, I like my Samsung. As mentioned it's pretty, and I actually enjoy getting to type out my little messages. I'm anal retentive about not using u when I mean you, and the t9 shit isn't going to do it for me. It's too much. I don't like it.

But my new phone? I love it, though not quite as much as a baby loves it when you push their knees toward their chest and help them get that fart out.

upgrade

My phone is a piece of shit. Actually, my phone is just getting old, though it seems there was a time when nearly four years wasn't such a long time to have a phone.

But it does feel to me as if I'm carrying around a piece of shit phone because of the issues it has developed fairly recently.

Roughly twice a day I have to turn the phone off, open the back and move the sim card around a tiny little bit. I realized within the past week that I have to use it on speaker phone to actually hear all of the conversation I'm attempting to have when attempting to have a conversation. There is a piece in the hinge that gets loose and can actually fall out sometimes. When closed the two halves are a bit wobbly. The back, beneath which is the battery and sim card, fits but could easily be pulled of if it were to snag on something.

So, very soon, I'm going to the dreaded mall to the AT&T store. I thought about ordering a phone online, but Momma suggested checking out the different phones to make sure I like the one I've planned on ordering. That makes sense, and I can probably also get the phone then and there and not have to wait.

Now I just need a pair of children to finish brushing their teeth. I can hear them playing in the bathroom, so I'm guessing I need to stomp back there and yell and waggle my finger at them.

Party on, Garth.

planetary alignment time

At some point in the past I'm sure that I mentioned Bob Brezny's horoscope, and I'm sure at the same time I included my own disclaimer. I do not believe in astrology any more than I believe in myths and/or superstition and/or interstellar entities.

I don't have any issues with Bob Brezny's Free Will Astrology though, and I rather enjoy it each week in my local alternative newsweekly. He doesn't quite give it the usual approach where random alignments of certain planets or certain alignments of random planets and stars approaching their zeniths in particular juxtaposition with other heavenly bodies dictates who and what and where in regards to the choices you are bound to either make by making or make by not deciding otherwise.

Having said all of that he has once again presented a list of options that seem to hone in on something awfully close to something akin to what I'm sort of letting my mind dance along the periphery of.

I'll give you that the preceding several paragraphs are as hard to read as they are hard to make sense of, but give me my verbosity and I'll give you the following snippet from my most recent Free Will Astrology horoscope. In it I as a Virgo am asked:

Would you rather have love:
1. knock the wind out of one of your illusions, thereby exposing the truth about what you really want;
2. not exactly kick you in the butt, but more like pinch and spank you there, inspiring you to revise your ideas about what it means to be close to someone;
3. spin you around in dizzying yet oddly pleasurable circles, shaking up your notions about how to keep intimacy both interestingly unpredictable and soothingly stable.

And it is timely because I am at and have been at a place where ideas of love weigh heavy on my mind.I'm ruling out number two on the grounds that pinching and spanking aren't really the sort of things I'm into. You're quite welcome to enjoy yourself as you see fit, but I don't have to want to do it.

Numbers one and three however both contain at least some amount of making me think. But I'd have to be able to give you some idea of what I even think about love in the first place.

1. I honestly couldn't tell you what I want right now. What I want right now can so easily change depending on when exactly right now is and where I am given when right now is. Sometimes I'm content to be alone, to have and do and be what I want. Sometimes I just want a strong pair of arms around me. Sometimes I want a partner in crime, a yen to my yank.

For me this also brings up questions of type. I'm learning that, while I have some amount of a type of guy that I think is hot, I'm in no way bound or hindered by this, and I'd barely even call it a preference. I think I'm good at letting each guy have as much chance as he deserves based more on how I feel upon meeting them versus how they appear physically.

Basically I feel that I have at least a tenable grasp on the ideas of expectations and desires and wish fulfillment.

3. I can't help but feel most people sort of want to be spun around and dizzied by love. I do want something not entirely predictable and yet soothing in the knowledge that I'm with someone willing to work through shit and be understanding. I like the idea of waking up with someone familiar yet who makes you shiver a bit in a good way when you see him.

That seems sadly naive and juvenile, that expectation or even just desire for some Disneyfied existence, as if I'm waiting for a charming prince, though I have to admit part of me dearly wants a charming prince as much as I want to be the charming prince.

Oh the travails of being a modern gay boy in the big (smallish) city.

deuces? we hope not

Within minutes I may well find myself wiping someone's butt. I've been happy the past couple of years not having to wipe a butt that was not attached to me, and I suppose, considering the child in question, that having to wipe a butt won't really be a big deal.

Today started, for me, about eight this morning. I loathe such early mornings as a general rule, but one does what one must.

I got a text yesterday from a very good friend who needed to accompany her mother to the doctor, and she also needed a babysitter for a few hours. I of course was more than happy to help out as I love this family and am always willing to help.

So, for the first half of my day, there are three little boys running around my house instead of the usual two. That's one extra pair of hands hauling out toys after having not picked up the last batch of toys they pulled out.

And, as it turns out, I've currently dodged the butt wiping bullet. Apparently it was a numero uno rather than a deuce. I'm honestly happy to put that one off for a bit, though I'd wager a little something that it's going to happen before the day is too old.

clearly cold yet sunny as all heck

Today is beautifully sunny if quite cold. I should be making plans, should be getting out of the house.

I'm feeling lazy though, as usual, and I just don't know that I feel like doing much. I do actually kind of feel like doing something, but what that is I can't quite pinpoint.

I shouldn't point out, because you don't really want to know, that the hemorrhoid isn't helping me want to do anything. I'm sure the sitting at the computer that I'm so good at isn't helping either, but that's what I'm going to do right now. Plus if I stop sitting here then I can't finish this post.

And the sad part about the post is that I honestly have nothing to say. I have no valuable insight into anything right now. I have no deep thoughts to offer, no pertinent or key facts about the matter.

I do have an overwhelming desire to lay back down and go to sleep. I was in bed by three-ish last night (this morning) only to wake around the nine o'clock hour in order to get Momma to work. I still haven't told you about her new job, and I'm certain I will.

And that's the start of my day in blog post form. It all equals a big fat nothing going on, but that's okay. I think maybe I'll just get back on Facebook and stalk the cute boy I just became Fb friends with.

on not bothering

Lately, almost like a form of depression, I've been in a slump of just not bothering. The house is a mess and the recyclables pile grows ever larger. I know I need to cook or fix lunch, and I do make sure the boys are fed healthy food, but I do it in a way that requires the absolute least bit of bothering on my part.

My showering habits are also included in the not bothering. I generally sleep on the sofa and end up just dumping my pockets and yanking the belt before I tumble under my quilt still mostly fully clothed. I awake the next day in dirty clothes only to switch out shirts at work time.

I got off work a little before ten Saturday night and had the whole evening free. I did take a shower then but am now, Monday afternoon, still wearing the then clean clothes I put on to go out. Of course those then clean clothes are a pair of jeans and a Lucero tshirt, so I'm basically wearing my daily uniform, and I'll probably just continue wearing the same thing to work when I leave in the next twenty minutes.

It is a slump, and it is probably more depression than merely like, but I really am not mentally in such a bad place. I'm thinking more and more as I ponder this new not bothering that it's likely a combination of timing and placement. I am not where I need to be and don't feel currently able to move to where I need to be. It's a lose lose situation where I'm subconciously not moving anywhere at all, even if it's just so simple as bothering to do small things because I'm not able to do the big thing.

No, it isn't healthy, and no, it isn't making me happy. I don't like the slump, but unslumping oneself, as we may have covered (and Dr. Seuss certainly told us) is never easy or fun.

I'm not generally given to self loathing, though its minor cousin low self esteem is certainly playing a part. It really just adds to the swirling ingredients that are making it so much easier to not bother.

And I grow weary of this. I need to bother. Hell, I even want to bother. I want to find joy in cooking again. I want to realize how easy cleaning these multitude if tiny messes truly is. I like being clean even, though honestly, the winter weather and my dry skin generally gang up on me this time of year and make showering both unpleasant and hard to want to deal with, but still, while I'm not currently exactly dirty, I will be soon enough, and I will need to want to bother.

But then I settle back into the waiting place, and bothering becomes such a bother. I couldn't tell you what I'm waiting for, but it certainly feels like waiting, as if some sudden something will finally happen and life will once more turn rosy and/or peachy.

Maybe if I just wait long enough . . .

not really worse

I should really go to bed earlier pretty much every night. I'm yawning and sleepy and want to lay back down for just a little bit, but I know better. I know there's no just a little bit, that I'll sleep for another two hours and wake annoyed and disgruntled.

There is way too much shit in my head lately, and by lately I mean as usual. There is too much that I just don't want to think about, too much that I feel I can't control.

There are things I know I should be doing differently, but I don't change anything. There are things I know I should do that I'm not doing, but I don't do anything differently.

At some point everything seems to piss me off. And at some point everyone that I know seems to get tired of me and then disappear.

Only half of what I've said is true, and the other half I've probably blown out of proportion. But it all comes back to the same kind of thing and me wanting to go back to bed. I know the just a little bit will turn into a couple of hours, but right now I just want to be asleep.

still full

Tonight's supper was sort of a curry. I say sort of because it was more just me throwing some things into a pot with some coconut milk and green curry paste. I suppose that makes it enough of a curry, but . . .

We had some bell peppers and cilantro and a couple of other things I could have used for something, and Momma, needing to get ready for derby practice, suggested a stir fry.

I didn't actually feel like cooking at the time. I've got some weirdness from last night on my mind, and that's been pushing other stuff to the back of my mind. As it turns out, cooking was a great way to think about something else for a bit.

The grocery store had one last remaining package of pork loins that had been marked down to about half price to which I added a couple of banana peppers, sugar snap peas and some young white potatoes. I don't know how authentic potatoes in curry are, but the place Momma now works does it, and they should know. And remind me to tell you about Momma's new job soon. I don't know if I've mentioned it yet, but now isn't the time for that.

Finally, from the store was the can of coconut milk. We already had the curry paste because we are such wonderful cooks and keep such a well stocked pantry. Actually that last part is only slightly true, but we do have lots of stuff, though that really only makes us so cool. The rest is just us.

I enjoyed it, peppers, pork, potatoes and the beans, simple enough to throw together and tasty enough that Big Brother and I both had seconds. The Boy? Yeah, he ate leftover frozen pizza and a burrito, also leftover. That's how he rolls. Momma, soon after she returns from practice, will likely enjoy her share.

not especially new jams

First of all I'm going to thank Grumbles for turning me onto this band. Grumbles is not his real name, but it is a nickname I gave him in my own mind because it's the name I came up with one day, probably after mimicking his often impossible to decipher voice.

Grumbles (full version Grumbles the Bear) is a decent guy with whom I worked for a short time at the gpub. He's a tattooed punk sort of guy who likes to fight, but he's such a decent guy and loved to call me Rainbow Bright. Believe me when I say that if Rainbow Bright is the best you can come up with when thinking of something gay to call me then I'm so not insulted, but I do empathize with the lack of gray matter, and besides, Grumbles is just a decent enough guy.

And now on to The Swellers and the video I posted. I would actually rather have found a different song, though I do like this one, but I really only picked this one because all the other videos I ran across for other songs had fairly high suck factors, being mostly live shit from someone's digital still camera. If you want to hear that then go search for yourself, but I offer you this video, Bottles, a song as lovely as any with a video that's a least fun to watch. You could also just go to their Myspace and listen too. That's probably easier.

more nothing than not

One more week has slowly slinked past and nearly away. I can't say that I did anything especially productive, didn't move myself to any better sort of place, no enlightenment or zen. I did walk around a number of messes in the floor, and I have made several pizzas and a few dollars. I've likely drank my weight in PBR and High Life.

I don't remember when I last posted, but I do remember having some grand ideas about what was coming, that I was going to get back to being a better blogger. I can say that this isn't something I did so much as very much consider.

I really need to pay off a couple of bills that are collecting dust, but I also need to sit down with Momma and discuss those bills because she's been in the one in charge of knowing what was happening with them for so long that I'm almost scared by the stack of them.

I also need a new phone. Mine is a nearly four year old Razr that was great once upon a time, but time has taken it's toll, and it's slowly dying the way only a phone can. At least twice a day I have to turn it off and wiggle the sim card about ever so slightly. One of the pieces in the hinge is quite willing to slowly work its way out if I talk on the phone for more than a few seconds. My voice mail has turned itself off at some point. I remember setting it up, and I remember getting messages, but now I have people complaining that the voice mail box isn't set up, so they couldn't leave me a message that time I didn't hear the phone ring or couldn't get to it quickly enough.

I won't be making this entire post about my inability to post or about my sad little phone. I've obviously now made it about both of those things, and I'm quite content to let it be. I also need to mosey down the hall to a certain room where I can go and find a certain relief, but we don't really need to go into the details of me having to go number two for the second time today, but since the need is there to actually go, I will leave you scratching your heads and wondering why I even bother posting sometimes.

But at least now you know. Also, I won't be editing, so comment and make fun of my misspellings and poor word choice. You know you want to.

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 . . .