Working in retail gives an individual a unique perspective into the mind of general public. And let me just say this: the general public is made up of a lot of douchecocks. I have been working at a retail giant for the past couple months and I have seen some shitty ass people from ALL walks of life come through my check lane. Allow to provide you with some examples.
1. Parents who have screaming children and refuse to discipline them.
2. Morons who come to the check lanes with merchandise they cannot afford, and present air of huffing indignity when confronted with that fact.
3. People interrupting other customers to ask for stupid things.
4. Talking on a cell phone while checking out, and giving specific instructions when options were presented to you while you were on the phone.
5. Asking for light-weight shit to be double-bagged in paper just because you're walking.
6. Your mother taught you manners; use them.
Now allow me to provide some feedback ...
1. Your whining children are providing an unhappy shopping experience for everyone around you, not to mention those of us behind the register who have to hide our looks of disdain when your jelly-covered 3-foot asshole is ripping up and chewing on gift cards while you dig for money. Get a leash and a muzzle or, wow here's an idea, learn how to raise your children. No, Parker, Mommy isn't going to give you a cracker if you can't behave! No! No! ... *Sigh* Okay, well do you want Mommy to hold you so you stop crying? is not disciplining or properly raising your child. Stupid cunt.
2. Learn some addition and subtraction. If you made it past the sixth grade this shouldn't be too difficult for you; if it is, bring a calculator with you. Piling a shit ton of merchandise on me and saying "I don't want this!" or "You need to scan all this (pile A) and then let me know if I can afford this (pile B), I have $50.00." Learn some math, cunt.
3. Excuse me, Mister ... do not interrupt me while I am ringing through someone's merchandise and making pleasant conversation with the customer who is actually contributing to my paycheck by tapping me on the shoulder and asking me "Can I have a paper bag?" or "Hey, I need change can you open your till?" No, I can't make change, walk your lazy ass up to guest services and get change.
4. Listen to me, you idiotic bitch, the fact that you have the nerve to tell me "Um, I'm sorry (insert a gaggle of laughs and a hair flip or three) but I really wanted paper" after I've bagged everything in plastic, because you were too busy discussing the date you had last night on your cell phone while ignoring my pleasant "paper or plastic" and "do you have a bagging preference," oh, and "is plastic okay?" should mean that you get plastic, because a hairbrush, some toothpaste, and a two boxes of cereal does not warrant a large paper bag, but I need this job so I'll hold my tongue and rant in this rather bitchy run-on sentence rather than telling you to eat my asshole. P.S., you don't deserve such deliciousness.
5. I understand that working downtown I am going to be dealing with patrons who walk, for the most part. I live downtown; I walk (or bus) everywhere I need to go. I also bag shit daily, so I know what I am doing. I also know that people use paper bags as trash bags because don't want to buy garbage bags and a garbage can, so please excuse me when I internally roll my eyes at your request I double-paper bag your two boxes of pasta, a half gallon of milk and some candy. It's unnecessary.
6. I am a naturally polite person, despite my subversive sarcasm. I could get along with a stop sign. My point is, if I smile at you, engage you in idle conversation while ringing your merchandise through, and genuinely tell you to "have a great day" the least you can do is smile back and say hi or at least respond with more than a grunt and an "uh" to my questions. Just because I can read facial expressions doesn't mean I don't enjoy a polite customer. When I deal over five hundred customers per day, and over half of them act like you, I only wish you could hear my inner monologue.
Now, clearly these are some rants of mine, but they're pretty universal. I realize everyone working in retail has similar stories/complaints/problems. However, this is my first REAL retail job. With the exception of restaurant management, which is different than retail, I've only worked in office settings and call centers for the most part. Even photobooths were less-stressful. Is it really necessary for you to take your frustrations out on the cashier (who, trust me, would rather have their eye lashes tweezed out one by one in Fallujah than deal with you) who is, in most cases, doing this job for less than half of what you make per hour.
Okay I'll stop being a ranty bitch now :) Just had to get that off my chest.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Indecesion 2010: Mikey Style!
Recently I have watched a couple of seriously unfortunate things happen to a friend of mine. He's a good guy, works, pays his bills, and while not the most tactful individual in the world is one of the funniest people I've ever met. Perhaps his only true crime is hiding behind a wall to protect himself. And if that's a crime, well then 90% of the human race is guilty.
Some of the decisions I've seen him make since knowing him have given me pause, however. He often buries things and pretends that actual problems don't exist until it's too late. Seeing this happen has made me realize some things about my own life the past couple years. You see, my friend is allowing things to happen to himself. By not taking action when necessary he's basically inviting trouble but hoping (at the same time) it just quietly goes away without rearing its ugly head. He isn't tackling problems head on.
The reflection is like a mirror I cannot get away from. It's looking me square in the face everywhere I go now. My friend is several years younger than me, and is at this place much earlier in life that I came to be. You see, he's in his early twenties. All throughout my twenties I was pretty prosperous. I had great paying full-time jobs, often at least one part-time concurrently, paid my bills on time for the part, and had a great network of friends. Shortly before my twenty-ninth birthday I visited Minneapolis with my very best friend for Gay Pride 2007. After two days I knew I was moving there; a couple months before I learned the full-time job at the cable company I worked for would be ending in February 2008. I made a conscious decision that weekend that in March 2008, when my lease was up, I'd move.
I'm not sure when or where exactly the switch occurred. I knew I was leaving, I had a plan, I had a savings account, I had a full-time and two part-time jobs, I was on my way. Then I met Noah, who lived in Minneapolis. I let my wanderlust for him and the city of Minneapolis detract me from my goal, and I ended up moving early (September 2007), that would turn 2008 into one of the most chaotic years of my life.
As a result I began to question my ability to make good decisions, even though I had made good decisions for twelve years leading up to that chaotic break. I spent 2009 and much of this year just letting this happen. I've made a few good decisions, but my fear of acting on what I know I should be doing has made me weak.
This is one of those other instances where I look at my friend and I see myself. I've noticed I have a lot of opinions about things he does, and I've come to realize it's because I recognize so much of my own personality in his. We are most definitely alike in more ways than I would have initially cared to admit. I think that's why I am so critical when I see him making a decision I recognize as the wrong one. It's one of those "I've made that decision, I know what's going to happen" types of situations. Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. Everyone has to make their own mistakes.
Not only does everyone have to make their own mistakes; everyone has to learn from their own mistakes. While I've certainly learned from mistakes in my personal life, I've not learned as much as I'd thought in my professional life. I still make mistakes when it comes to job hunting, dealing with professional matters, etc. Seeing my friend make these mistakes me furious at myself because I realize I have regressed in this regard. I'm making mistakes I've not made since I was 19 or 20. That realization pisses me off, since I'm 32. I mean, surely I should have fucking learned all these lessons BY NOW?!?!
I can't sit here and say I now have a clear road map of where I need to go and what I need to do. I can sit here and say I realize I've judged a friend harshly (and that makes me sad, even though the harshness came from a place of experience and recognition), and that it's made me realize I have some self-judgments to work through.
So now comes to the decision. For two years I've just kind of hopped on to life and flew along for the ride. With the exception of a couple instances I've not grabbed life by the balls and said "I'm in control, bitch, we're doing it my way." I can sit here and say I'm going to let life happen to me (and anyone close to me knows where that has gotten me) or I can say "2011 is going to be my year."
Some of the decisions I've seen him make since knowing him have given me pause, however. He often buries things and pretends that actual problems don't exist until it's too late. Seeing this happen has made me realize some things about my own life the past couple years. You see, my friend is allowing things to happen to himself. By not taking action when necessary he's basically inviting trouble but hoping (at the same time) it just quietly goes away without rearing its ugly head. He isn't tackling problems head on.
The reflection is like a mirror I cannot get away from. It's looking me square in the face everywhere I go now. My friend is several years younger than me, and is at this place much earlier in life that I came to be. You see, he's in his early twenties. All throughout my twenties I was pretty prosperous. I had great paying full-time jobs, often at least one part-time concurrently, paid my bills on time for the part, and had a great network of friends. Shortly before my twenty-ninth birthday I visited Minneapolis with my very best friend for Gay Pride 2007. After two days I knew I was moving there; a couple months before I learned the full-time job at the cable company I worked for would be ending in February 2008. I made a conscious decision that weekend that in March 2008, when my lease was up, I'd move.
I'm not sure when or where exactly the switch occurred. I knew I was leaving, I had a plan, I had a savings account, I had a full-time and two part-time jobs, I was on my way. Then I met Noah, who lived in Minneapolis. I let my wanderlust for him and the city of Minneapolis detract me from my goal, and I ended up moving early (September 2007), that would turn 2008 into one of the most chaotic years of my life.
As a result I began to question my ability to make good decisions, even though I had made good decisions for twelve years leading up to that chaotic break. I spent 2009 and much of this year just letting this happen. I've made a few good decisions, but my fear of acting on what I know I should be doing has made me weak.
This is one of those other instances where I look at my friend and I see myself. I've noticed I have a lot of opinions about things he does, and I've come to realize it's because I recognize so much of my own personality in his. We are most definitely alike in more ways than I would have initially cared to admit. I think that's why I am so critical when I see him making a decision I recognize as the wrong one. It's one of those "I've made that decision, I know what's going to happen" types of situations. Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. Everyone has to make their own mistakes.
Not only does everyone have to make their own mistakes; everyone has to learn from their own mistakes. While I've certainly learned from mistakes in my personal life, I've not learned as much as I'd thought in my professional life. I still make mistakes when it comes to job hunting, dealing with professional matters, etc. Seeing my friend make these mistakes me furious at myself because I realize I have regressed in this regard. I'm making mistakes I've not made since I was 19 or 20. That realization pisses me off, since I'm 32. I mean, surely I should have fucking learned all these lessons BY NOW?!?!
I can't sit here and say I now have a clear road map of where I need to go and what I need to do. I can sit here and say I realize I've judged a friend harshly (and that makes me sad, even though the harshness came from a place of experience and recognition), and that it's made me realize I have some self-judgments to work through.
So now comes to the decision. For two years I've just kind of hopped on to life and flew along for the ride. With the exception of a couple instances I've not grabbed life by the balls and said "I'm in control, bitch, we're doing it my way." I can sit here and say I'm going to let life happen to me (and anyone close to me knows where that has gotten me) or I can say "2011 is going to be my year."
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Thirty-Something Mike vs. Twenty-Something Mike
So I've always prided myself on looking younger than I actually am. It's not that I'm old or anything; I'm only thirty-two. However, it's nice being thirty-two and having people who don't know you think you're twenty-five. We'll chalk that up to Mikey splashing around in a bath of vanity. Notice bitches, I said bath (as in bath tub) not sea.
But over the last year or so I've begun to realize that certain twenty-something behaviors are really beginning to piss me the fuck off. *gasp!* What the fuck has happened to Mikey?
I can't really say where or when the switch occured. I think back to my own behaviors as a twenty-something. I threw house parties galore, fucked around with and dated more men than I dare admit to, did fabulous things with fabulous friends, took risks like I was fucking cat with eighteen lives, and generally approached life with a devil-may-care attitude.
For ten years that worked. I had great jobs, good money, and security. Perhaps now that those luxuries are gone, I have also been forced to examine the things in my past that led to where I am today. Every action has a consequence, and as a firm believer in Karma, is the Queen Bitch now kicking my ass for every rotten and/or selfish thing I did in my twenties? Are my entire thirties doomed? If so, can someone please bludgeon me to death with a blunt object now?
I'm not so sure that's how it works. Even though my financial life kind of went into a tailspin once I hit my thirties (how backwards and fucked up is that, by the way, that I should be somewhat lucky and prosperous in my twenties and have my finances go to shit once I hit thirty?), I'd like to think that I still have a lot to be thankful for. After all, I am emotionally and intellectually a lot better off than I was ten years ago. I've gone through a lot of drama, lived a lot of life, suffered through the consequences of some really bad decisions, and have come out of it scathed yet somewhat wise.
Sometimes I feel like a flip-flopper. In my twenties I was financially smart. I always a great paying, secure full-time job and often a part-time job as a supplement. I had a savings account, extra money to throw around for fun, to help my friends and family when needed, and impulse buying was never harmful. My personal life was another story, however. I won't go into the hook-ups, randoms, or friends with benefits that rotated in and out of orbit, I'll just speak to the actual relationships ... oh hey, is that the Titanic over there?!?!
My actual dating relationships of my twenties were dismal, to say the least. In fact most of them aren't worth mentioning as they were really just friends with benefits. Even though I dove out of the closet at 17, I didn't have an actual "relationship" after the age of 19 until I was 24. That relationship was Adam. I lived with him for the entire first year of our relationship; he broke up with me on our first anniversary yet we lived together for another full year (as great friends) until I moved. After that pain I resolved to never make that mistake again. Next came Dan. I met Dan online in spring 2005. I had moved to Sioux Falls. Dan lived in Mankato at the time. I turned 27 the summer I dated Dan. I drove from Sioux Falls to Mankato every weekend to be with him for almost three months. After that ended (almost amicably) and Dan and I strived for a friendship, Adam and I began round deux in January 2006. This mistake (not because it was Adam) lasted for eleven months and included a lot of drama. In June 2007 I met Noah. I drove to Minneapolis every other weekend for nearly three months (I moved here in September 2007, just two days after he broke up with me) and he drove to Sioux Falls every opposite weekend.
Each of these reltationships have one thing in common (even though Adam, Dan, and Noah are totally opposite in every way): me. How many relationships does one have to endure before realizing it isn't the pile up of exes that are the problem? How many bad break-ups, relationship crises, and late night calls to friends does a guy have to go through before realizing that ~ Jesus Fucking Christ you mean to tell me it's not them?!?!? ~ the problem isn't the ever-climbing stack of exes? When do we finally learn that it's us?
It wasn't until 2008 came along, and my financial situation started to tumble down the rabbit hole, that I met someone who actually made me shiver. I fell so hard for this invidual that it shook me to my core. The problem was (along with the fact that this person, who would eventually become my closest friend, was my ex's ex) he considered me a friend and nothing more. Our frienship grew and went through some growing pains, and my heart broke into a million pieces as I adjusted to the fact we'd only ever be friends.
Today, I have emerged as an emotionally wise and stronger individual. I am madly in love with a man who (is not only in love with me in return) loves me for who I am. I am still recovering from the financial crisis that hit my life a couple of years ago, but I feel I am better off now. For the first time ever, I feel like I am truly ready to give myself to someone, and considering the man I have given myself to, I am the lucky one.
So I think there is a trade-off once you hit your thirties. You have to give to get. You might not always get to choose what you're giving up, but I think if you try to be the best human being you can be then life will reward you with something amazing.
Of course, I still can't figure out why I just can't fucking have it all damn it!!!
In many ways I look back on the last decade with a bit of amazement. First, I made it through the last decade with all my limbs intact. That alone is an accomplishment. If you know me personally then you can agree. Second, I'm actually cognizant enough to recognize where I made mistakes. Of course I'm still learning from those mistakes. Sometimes I feel a bit vain when it comes to feeling retrospective; like I'm feeling a little "oooh I know what I did wrong I'm better than you!" I don't feel like that.
I envy the people who never made the mistakes I made. I envy those who came out unscathed. However, I also feel like the lessons I've learned due to the vast deposit of mistakes I've made have made into the Carrie Bradshaw of gay men.
Looking back on the lessons I've learned I am curious to know what I will be thinking once I hit 40 or 42.
But over the last year or so I've begun to realize that certain twenty-something behaviors are really beginning to piss me the fuck off. *gasp!* What the fuck has happened to Mikey?
I can't really say where or when the switch occured. I think back to my own behaviors as a twenty-something. I threw house parties galore, fucked around with and dated more men than I dare admit to, did fabulous things with fabulous friends, took risks like I was fucking cat with eighteen lives, and generally approached life with a devil-may-care attitude.
For ten years that worked. I had great jobs, good money, and security. Perhaps now that those luxuries are gone, I have also been forced to examine the things in my past that led to where I am today. Every action has a consequence, and as a firm believer in Karma, is the Queen Bitch now kicking my ass for every rotten and/or selfish thing I did in my twenties? Are my entire thirties doomed? If so, can someone please bludgeon me to death with a blunt object now?
I'm not so sure that's how it works. Even though my financial life kind of went into a tailspin once I hit my thirties (how backwards and fucked up is that, by the way, that I should be somewhat lucky and prosperous in my twenties and have my finances go to shit once I hit thirty?), I'd like to think that I still have a lot to be thankful for. After all, I am emotionally and intellectually a lot better off than I was ten years ago. I've gone through a lot of drama, lived a lot of life, suffered through the consequences of some really bad decisions, and have come out of it scathed yet somewhat wise.
Sometimes I feel like a flip-flopper. In my twenties I was financially smart. I always a great paying, secure full-time job and often a part-time job as a supplement. I had a savings account, extra money to throw around for fun, to help my friends and family when needed, and impulse buying was never harmful. My personal life was another story, however. I won't go into the hook-ups, randoms, or friends with benefits that rotated in and out of orbit, I'll just speak to the actual relationships ... oh hey, is that the Titanic over there?!?!
My actual dating relationships of my twenties were dismal, to say the least. In fact most of them aren't worth mentioning as they were really just friends with benefits. Even though I dove out of the closet at 17, I didn't have an actual "relationship" after the age of 19 until I was 24. That relationship was Adam. I lived with him for the entire first year of our relationship; he broke up with me on our first anniversary yet we lived together for another full year (as great friends) until I moved. After that pain I resolved to never make that mistake again. Next came Dan. I met Dan online in spring 2005. I had moved to Sioux Falls. Dan lived in Mankato at the time. I turned 27 the summer I dated Dan. I drove from Sioux Falls to Mankato every weekend to be with him for almost three months. After that ended (almost amicably) and Dan and I strived for a friendship, Adam and I began round deux in January 2006. This mistake (not because it was Adam) lasted for eleven months and included a lot of drama. In June 2007 I met Noah. I drove to Minneapolis every other weekend for nearly three months (I moved here in September 2007, just two days after he broke up with me) and he drove to Sioux Falls every opposite weekend.
Each of these reltationships have one thing in common (even though Adam, Dan, and Noah are totally opposite in every way): me. How many relationships does one have to endure before realizing it isn't the pile up of exes that are the problem? How many bad break-ups, relationship crises, and late night calls to friends does a guy have to go through before realizing that ~ Jesus Fucking Christ you mean to tell me it's not them?!?!? ~ the problem isn't the ever-climbing stack of exes? When do we finally learn that it's us?
It wasn't until 2008 came along, and my financial situation started to tumble down the rabbit hole, that I met someone who actually made me shiver. I fell so hard for this invidual that it shook me to my core. The problem was (along with the fact that this person, who would eventually become my closest friend, was my ex's ex) he considered me a friend and nothing more. Our frienship grew and went through some growing pains, and my heart broke into a million pieces as I adjusted to the fact we'd only ever be friends.
Today, I have emerged as an emotionally wise and stronger individual. I am madly in love with a man who (is not only in love with me in return) loves me for who I am. I am still recovering from the financial crisis that hit my life a couple of years ago, but I feel I am better off now. For the first time ever, I feel like I am truly ready to give myself to someone, and considering the man I have given myself to, I am the lucky one.
So I think there is a trade-off once you hit your thirties. You have to give to get. You might not always get to choose what you're giving up, but I think if you try to be the best human being you can be then life will reward you with something amazing.
Of course, I still can't figure out why I just can't fucking have it all damn it!!!
In many ways I look back on the last decade with a bit of amazement. First, I made it through the last decade with all my limbs intact. That alone is an accomplishment. If you know me personally then you can agree. Second, I'm actually cognizant enough to recognize where I made mistakes. Of course I'm still learning from those mistakes. Sometimes I feel a bit vain when it comes to feeling retrospective; like I'm feeling a little "oooh I know what I did wrong I'm better than you!" I don't feel like that.
I envy the people who never made the mistakes I made. I envy those who came out unscathed. However, I also feel like the lessons I've learned due to the vast deposit of mistakes I've made have made into the Carrie Bradshaw of gay men.
Looking back on the lessons I've learned I am curious to know what I will be thinking once I hit 40 or 42.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Try
So there's a point where I have to step back, take a look at who I am and what I've become, and say to myself "Who the fuck are you?!"
All through my twenties I had a full-time and at least one, sometimes two, part-time jobs going on simultaneously. I may not have been saving money but I was paying my bills on time and spending the rest on what and who I wanted, how I wanted, and when I wanted. When I turned thirty with financial problems, mainly because I was in between jobs it was a blow to my ego. At thirty-two, being in between jobs again, and knowing I am not growing professionally is hard. It's very hard. To sink so low, to apply for jobs that are professionally beneath me and still be turned down because I am overfuckingqualified is hard to swallow. It's a bitter pill.
Despite the depression caused by my seemingly growing inability to find a full-time job, I have incredible friends and an amazing boyfriend. These amazing people are all that really stands between me and the cloudy abyss of nothingness. I love them dearly, they mean the world to me ... they have become my family, and yet I still feel alone much of the time.
My best friends have jobs. My boyfriend has a job. Sometimes I feel like their lives are all going somewhere; mine is stagnating. Some weeks I am gung ho, out there like a trooper ... commando job applicant/interviewee ... some weeks I'm so depressed it's all I can do to make it through the day. I try to this depression but I think they know.
But sometimes I think they don't know, or they pretend to not know. It's like "Well Mike used to always be okay and bounce back, he will find his way back." What if I don't? What if I don't make it back? What if I have become so disconnected that I cannot find that switch to turn the tides? Sometimes I fear I am dying ... paying a penance perhaps ... for karmic misdeeds of my youth. I know how stupid that sounds. What if it's true, though?
There's another contrast that seems striking. From the age of 19 to 30 I enjoyed financial fruitfulness. I always had money to spend, my bills were paid, and I never really hurt for anything. But I never really knew lasting love. Sure I fell in love a few times but it was always doomed from the start. Now that I am in love with someone who could and very will likely be with me for a very long time I am pretty much broke. That's a very bitter pill to swallow.
I think about the over one hundred partners (not friends) - romantic, sexual, semi-sexual - that have littered my past and I wonder what I am supposed to take away from all that. Sure I have a veritable fountain of youth of sexual experience and could please anyone sexually. I don't care about that anymore. Sure, the idea of casual sex is still hot, but the only person I want to please sexually is the man I am in love with. Everyone else can rot ... sexually, anyway.
But I've always been, even now, with my ultra-monogamous views, a very sexual individual ... a liberal one at that. And while I believe in monogamy, I do not believe in complete long-term monogamy. I do not believe two people can be together and be sexually happy for forty years without fucking someone else. That's not to say I don't respect monogamy. I very highly believe that before a relationship can survive under any other circumstance, a few years of love and respect must flourish between the two individuals in said relationship.
But I don't even want that ... I'm not even thinking about that. What I think about are the amazingly small things. I think about making him breakfast ... homemade blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and a tall glass of milk ... waking him up with little kisses all over his body ... flowers sent to him in the middle of the day ... a walk through the park holding hands and talking ... a romantic dinner and a night out ... having intense hardcore sex all night long and then falling asleep in each other's arms ... with one man ... with the man I am with and in love with.
In previous relationships, even those where I've been in love (Adam, Dan, Noah, Nate), I've always held a free idea of sex. Some of my friends have commented on how weird that is, and that perhaps it's because I always held myself back. I suppose in some ways I can see their point; There were dozens and dozens of casual partners from the ages of 15-24 but I never fell in love with any of them. I don't consider my lack of such freewheeling this time around as growing up. In fact, I firmly believe our ideas of sexuality actually mature with age as long as we are open.
But some days I feel like I am at a precipice and I'll just make the same mistakes I've made in relationships past. I've been officially single most of my adult life (despite the number of partners I've racked up), and I've always been okay with that. I came to terms with "Me" a long time ago. I'm comfortable growing old with Me and a dog. But now that I've experienced a slice of what it's like to be with someone who is not only beautiful and sexy and intelligent and funny, but sweet and caring, and honorable and respectful of the "me." How can I give that up?
And how can I continue to deserve this beautiful gift unless I can quickly get my shit together? I've tried, so hard I've tried.
All through my twenties I had a full-time and at least one, sometimes two, part-time jobs going on simultaneously. I may not have been saving money but I was paying my bills on time and spending the rest on what and who I wanted, how I wanted, and when I wanted. When I turned thirty with financial problems, mainly because I was in between jobs it was a blow to my ego. At thirty-two, being in between jobs again, and knowing I am not growing professionally is hard. It's very hard. To sink so low, to apply for jobs that are professionally beneath me and still be turned down because I am overfuckingqualified is hard to swallow. It's a bitter pill.
Despite the depression caused by my seemingly growing inability to find a full-time job, I have incredible friends and an amazing boyfriend. These amazing people are all that really stands between me and the cloudy abyss of nothingness. I love them dearly, they mean the world to me ... they have become my family, and yet I still feel alone much of the time.
My best friends have jobs. My boyfriend has a job. Sometimes I feel like their lives are all going somewhere; mine is stagnating. Some weeks I am gung ho, out there like a trooper ... commando job applicant/interviewee ... some weeks I'm so depressed it's all I can do to make it through the day. I try to this depression but I think they know.
But sometimes I think they don't know, or they pretend to not know. It's like "Well Mike used to always be okay and bounce back, he will find his way back." What if I don't? What if I don't make it back? What if I have become so disconnected that I cannot find that switch to turn the tides? Sometimes I fear I am dying ... paying a penance perhaps ... for karmic misdeeds of my youth. I know how stupid that sounds. What if it's true, though?
There's another contrast that seems striking. From the age of 19 to 30 I enjoyed financial fruitfulness. I always had money to spend, my bills were paid, and I never really hurt for anything. But I never really knew lasting love. Sure I fell in love a few times but it was always doomed from the start. Now that I am in love with someone who could and very will likely be with me for a very long time I am pretty much broke. That's a very bitter pill to swallow.
I think about the over one hundred partners (not friends) - romantic, sexual, semi-sexual - that have littered my past and I wonder what I am supposed to take away from all that. Sure I have a veritable fountain of youth of sexual experience and could please anyone sexually. I don't care about that anymore. Sure, the idea of casual sex is still hot, but the only person I want to please sexually is the man I am in love with. Everyone else can rot ... sexually, anyway.
But I've always been, even now, with my ultra-monogamous views, a very sexual individual ... a liberal one at that. And while I believe in monogamy, I do not believe in complete long-term monogamy. I do not believe two people can be together and be sexually happy for forty years without fucking someone else. That's not to say I don't respect monogamy. I very highly believe that before a relationship can survive under any other circumstance, a few years of love and respect must flourish between the two individuals in said relationship.
But I don't even want that ... I'm not even thinking about that. What I think about are the amazingly small things. I think about making him breakfast ... homemade blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and a tall glass of milk ... waking him up with little kisses all over his body ... flowers sent to him in the middle of the day ... a walk through the park holding hands and talking ... a romantic dinner and a night out ... having intense hardcore sex all night long and then falling asleep in each other's arms ... with one man ... with the man I am with and in love with.
In previous relationships, even those where I've been in love (Adam, Dan, Noah, Nate), I've always held a free idea of sex. Some of my friends have commented on how weird that is, and that perhaps it's because I always held myself back. I suppose in some ways I can see their point; There were dozens and dozens of casual partners from the ages of 15-24 but I never fell in love with any of them. I don't consider my lack of such freewheeling this time around as growing up. In fact, I firmly believe our ideas of sexuality actually mature with age as long as we are open.
But some days I feel like I am at a precipice and I'll just make the same mistakes I've made in relationships past. I've been officially single most of my adult life (despite the number of partners I've racked up), and I've always been okay with that. I came to terms with "Me" a long time ago. I'm comfortable growing old with Me and a dog. But now that I've experienced a slice of what it's like to be with someone who is not only beautiful and sexy and intelligent and funny, but sweet and caring, and honorable and respectful of the "me." How can I give that up?
And how can I continue to deserve this beautiful gift unless I can quickly get my shit together? I've tried, so hard I've tried.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Hello Brick Wall, Have You Met My Head?
I've been searching for a steady full-time job since August 2009. Since then I've had a part-time job I had to leave in March 2010, and a string of temp jobs from staffing agencies which ended within a couple of months. Experiencing this sort of sling shot affect wreaks havoc on the body, mind, and soul.
I started working at the age of fifteen at an Arby's and worked a series of part-time jobs until I turned eighteen. That's when I got my first full-time job. For sixteen years I had steady income from at least one source. During most of those years I had a full-time job and at least one part-time job on the side.
Losing my full-time job last August was a shock. It was unexpected. I've gotten a lot of flack from a lot of people since then. Surely I could have found a full-time job since then? What have I been doing with my time?
The answer to that is simple: I've been job searching.
During my job search and the nearly four dozen interviews I've gone on, I've discovered something. Despite my extremely eclectic work history, which has given me experience in a variety of fields, there really isn't anything that sets me apart from others in my age group. I'm 32, with some college experience (no degree), and have worked a string of steady jobs in customer service. There are five hundred other "me's" applying for every job I apply for.
Another kick in the teeth? I'm overqualified for many of the jobs that are open that I'd be willing to take at this point. This pool of jobs includes retail, coffee shops, fast food restaurants, gas stations, and the like. They pay significantly less than what I am used to bringing in. I cannot even tell you how many coffee shops, gas stations, retail stores, and fast food places I have submitted apps and interviewed for. It's quite a shittastic experience to be told you can't have a job at one of these establishments because you're vastly overqualified.
Some days it's really hard to maintain a positive attitude that things will turn around as long as I keep plugging away, applying and going to interviews. Sometimes I feel angry at those sell drugs to make money or fuck their way into a job or those who have milked the government for welfare checks by popping out eight children. Okay I feel angry at these people MOST of the time, not just some of the time.
In some ways I am simply banging my head against the wall, though. Considering there are five hundred other Me's out there applying for every job I apply for, most of whom have extremely similar customer service backgrounds, shouldn't I be adjusting my thinking? I've considered applying for entry level positions in non-customer service fields I've never worked in ... but that presents a whole new set of challenges.
Despite what the government says, I also fear the recession is far from over. And what most people don't realize is that nearly three quarters of the jobs that were lost are never coming back. That means we have to create new jobs in new fields for those of us who have lost jobs. More evidence, perhaps, that I'm on the wrong track pursuing customer service jobs? Probably.
Alright, so, now that I've banged out this post and have expressed my feelings of utter defeatism, it's time to recharge and try again.
I started working at the age of fifteen at an Arby's and worked a series of part-time jobs until I turned eighteen. That's when I got my first full-time job. For sixteen years I had steady income from at least one source. During most of those years I had a full-time job and at least one part-time job on the side.
Losing my full-time job last August was a shock. It was unexpected. I've gotten a lot of flack from a lot of people since then. Surely I could have found a full-time job since then? What have I been doing with my time?
The answer to that is simple: I've been job searching.
During my job search and the nearly four dozen interviews I've gone on, I've discovered something. Despite my extremely eclectic work history, which has given me experience in a variety of fields, there really isn't anything that sets me apart from others in my age group. I'm 32, with some college experience (no degree), and have worked a string of steady jobs in customer service. There are five hundred other "me's" applying for every job I apply for.
Another kick in the teeth? I'm overqualified for many of the jobs that are open that I'd be willing to take at this point. This pool of jobs includes retail, coffee shops, fast food restaurants, gas stations, and the like. They pay significantly less than what I am used to bringing in. I cannot even tell you how many coffee shops, gas stations, retail stores, and fast food places I have submitted apps and interviewed for. It's quite a shittastic experience to be told you can't have a job at one of these establishments because you're vastly overqualified.
Some days it's really hard to maintain a positive attitude that things will turn around as long as I keep plugging away, applying and going to interviews. Sometimes I feel angry at those sell drugs to make money or fuck their way into a job or those who have milked the government for welfare checks by popping out eight children. Okay I feel angry at these people MOST of the time, not just some of the time.
In some ways I am simply banging my head against the wall, though. Considering there are five hundred other Me's out there applying for every job I apply for, most of whom have extremely similar customer service backgrounds, shouldn't I be adjusting my thinking? I've considered applying for entry level positions in non-customer service fields I've never worked in ... but that presents a whole new set of challenges.
Despite what the government says, I also fear the recession is far from over. And what most people don't realize is that nearly three quarters of the jobs that were lost are never coming back. That means we have to create new jobs in new fields for those of us who have lost jobs. More evidence, perhaps, that I'm on the wrong track pursuing customer service jobs? Probably.
Alright, so, now that I've banged out this post and have expressed my feelings of utter defeatism, it's time to recharge and try again.
Friday, October 8, 2010
R.I.P.
Justin Aaberg, a 15-year-old student in Anoka, Minnesota hanged himself on July 9, 2010. It was the third such suicide in just a year in the Anoka-Hennepin school district in Minnesota. To make this matter truly horrifying, September 2010 turned out to not only be grim but downright horrific.
Just last month, 15-year-old Billy Lucas of Indiana, 13-year-old Asher Brown of Texas, and 13-year-old Seth Walsh of California all took their own lives. But things would get drastically worse before the month's end. September closed its doors with two young men in college - Tyler Clementi, a closeted 18-year-old and Raymond Chase, an openly gay sophomore majoring in culinary arts - taking their own lives as well. Rather than suffer the humiliation of being outed by his roommate, Clementi plunged 600 feet off the George Washington Bridge to his death. Chase hanged himself in his dormitory room.
What do these six young men have in common? All were gay and victims of homophobic bullying. Clementi's case has been the most nationally recognized, as his roommate conspired with another student to capture Clementi's sexual encounter with another male student on a webcam set up in their room. He then tweeted to get people to log into the webcam.
But the disturbing news does not stop there. Last year two school teachers in the Anoka-Hennepin school district were accused of and charged with harrassment of a student (who, incidentally, is not gay) who transferred to another district. The teachers subjected said student to harrassment in front of his classmates and even tag-team bullied him. The student was awarded a $25,000 settlement from the district and teachers remain on leave but have not yet been formally dismissed.
These six young men in the past three months are just the cases that we know about. How many more LGBT teens out there are suffering to the point they feel they have no option but to take their own lives?
Of course, bullying among children and teens is nothing new and is hardly restricted to homophobic bullying.
Today it was reported in New York City that seven people, aged 16 to 23, have been arrested and charged in connection to brutal gay beatings in the Bronx. While hate crimes are easier to prosecute, bullying is something that most Americans have simply become immune to. After all, most all of us have been bullied at one point or another. So it could be said the easiest way to deal with it is to suck it up and get through it. Life will get better.
But we don't really know that. We don't know how these young men who took their own lives would have turned out. Ongoing or extremely harsh bullying has been shown to leave deep psychological scars that people carry into adulthood. In Tyler Clementi's case he had a private encounter with another man secretly uploaded to the Internet without his knowledge or consent.
This line of thinking brings up another question. Are the individuals responsible for bullying these boys in some way responsible for their deaths? Again, Clementi's case is unique from the other five due to the invasion of privacy involved. After all, these boys committed suicide. They weren't murdered. They made the decision to take their own lives.
I say yes, the bullies are in some way responsible. Bullies made their lives hell day in and day out for who knows how long. People who commit suicide typically have some sort of psychological break and are often pushed to the point of that break. The people who bullied these boys into committing suicide may not have pushed them off a bridge or handed them the rope they were found hanging from, but their bullying was the psychological instrument of destruction.
R.I.P. Justin, Billy, Asher, Seth, Tyler, and Raymond.
Just last month, 15-year-old Billy Lucas of Indiana, 13-year-old Asher Brown of Texas, and 13-year-old Seth Walsh of California all took their own lives. But things would get drastically worse before the month's end. September closed its doors with two young men in college - Tyler Clementi, a closeted 18-year-old and Raymond Chase, an openly gay sophomore majoring in culinary arts - taking their own lives as well. Rather than suffer the humiliation of being outed by his roommate, Clementi plunged 600 feet off the George Washington Bridge to his death. Chase hanged himself in his dormitory room.
What do these six young men have in common? All were gay and victims of homophobic bullying. Clementi's case has been the most nationally recognized, as his roommate conspired with another student to capture Clementi's sexual encounter with another male student on a webcam set up in their room. He then tweeted to get people to log into the webcam.
But the disturbing news does not stop there. Last year two school teachers in the Anoka-Hennepin school district were accused of and charged with harrassment of a student (who, incidentally, is not gay) who transferred to another district. The teachers subjected said student to harrassment in front of his classmates and even tag-team bullied him. The student was awarded a $25,000 settlement from the district and teachers remain on leave but have not yet been formally dismissed.
These six young men in the past three months are just the cases that we know about. How many more LGBT teens out there are suffering to the point they feel they have no option but to take their own lives?
Of course, bullying among children and teens is nothing new and is hardly restricted to homophobic bullying.
Today it was reported in New York City that seven people, aged 16 to 23, have been arrested and charged in connection to brutal gay beatings in the Bronx. While hate crimes are easier to prosecute, bullying is something that most Americans have simply become immune to. After all, most all of us have been bullied at one point or another. So it could be said the easiest way to deal with it is to suck it up and get through it. Life will get better.
But we don't really know that. We don't know how these young men who took their own lives would have turned out. Ongoing or extremely harsh bullying has been shown to leave deep psychological scars that people carry into adulthood. In Tyler Clementi's case he had a private encounter with another man secretly uploaded to the Internet without his knowledge or consent.
This line of thinking brings up another question. Are the individuals responsible for bullying these boys in some way responsible for their deaths? Again, Clementi's case is unique from the other five due to the invasion of privacy involved. After all, these boys committed suicide. They weren't murdered. They made the decision to take their own lives.
I say yes, the bullies are in some way responsible. Bullies made their lives hell day in and day out for who knows how long. People who commit suicide typically have some sort of psychological break and are often pushed to the point of that break. The people who bullied these boys into committing suicide may not have pushed them off a bridge or handed them the rope they were found hanging from, but their bullying was the psychological instrument of destruction.
R.I.P. Justin, Billy, Asher, Seth, Tyler, and Raymond.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
It's a Mosque ... Get Over It Already!
I saw this sign on the news and it really pissed me off.
First off let me say as a non-New Yorker, I can't truly understand what it's like to have my city attacked by terrorists, to lose people I live with, work with, and love with every day. So I cannot say, first hand, what having this Mosque built up in my back yard would feel like. I can imagine it's like a slap in the face, having the religion of the terrorists who attacked you thrown in your face.
As an American I can say remember what it felt like to have my country attacked; that raw, visceral pain that made me so angry. However, how many times have one particular group in America's past had their religious or personal freedoms usurped because if offended the majority? Just because the terrorists who attacked us were Muslims does not mean every Muslim-American is a terrorist.
By participating in Islamaphobia we are waiving the little white flag to the terrorists and shouting ... "Hey guess what guys?!?! You won!"
By not protesting the Mosque we are saying "Hey, our First Amendment guarantees religious freedom. We welcome diversity, and you're not going to drag us down. Fuck off."
But what it boils down to ... the Mosque is being built on PRIVATE PROPERTY ... get that, Private Property. The Muslims building it aren't under any suspicion of being terrorists.
And to the 70% of Americans who oppose it ... mind your own fucking business. 70% of Americans do not live in New York. So those of us who do not ... we do not deserve a say. And before you begin to protest, if New Yorkers had an opinion about something being built in BFE South Dakota (or any state) ... I guarantee you South Dakotans would tell New Yorkers to mind their fucking business. That goes with any state.
First Amendment. Religious Freedom. I am not minimizing the losses of 9/11 but those two phrases are legally all that matter here.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
A Privilege, Not a Right
According to a survey from Trulia, as home ownership falls to a ten-year low, the number of renters who plan to enter the home buying market is also on a steady decline. In July, 72% of American adults polled said owning a home was part of the 'American Dream.' Six months ago that same number was 77%.
While researchers say that people delaying their home purchases, or deciding to not purchase at all, could have a domino effect and delay the economic recovery in the United States, I have to say I actually feel this is good news. Who in the hell ever decided owning a home was one's 'god-given right' as an American? This kind of thinking is part of what to led to economic collapse in the first place. With much of the country still in the clutches of foreclosure why should we continue to think we are 'entitled' to own a home?
Before I elaborate too much more, let me first say this: I realize there are so many people out there who bought homes responsibly with a huge down payment, had a comfortable savings, and paid all their bills on time. Then the recession hit, they lost their jobs, their savings dwindled and they eventually lost their homes. My heart does go out to those people.
My heart does not go out to any homeowner who had to struggle to come up with their down payment, entered into one of those ridiculous home loans with the balloon payments on the end, or thought they deserved to be a home owner when they struggled to make ends meet or pay their bills on time. Why did so many people in this situation feel they deserved to own a home? That's what renting is for. This may sound callous, and yes banks are at fault for offering home loans to people with shaky credit.
Personally I would never, ever, try to purchase a home unless I had paid off my debts, my credit score was above a 720, and I had 40% set aside as a down payment.
But this whole 'American Dream' thing is silly. Does owning a home with a heavy mortgage out in the suburbs with one or two car payments and the trapeze act you walk with your check book each month make you more of an American? No. Home ownership is a privilege for those who have learned how to balance their budgets and manage their money, for those who have proven they can save money, for those who can actually afford to own a home.
While researchers say that people delaying their home purchases, or deciding to not purchase at all, could have a domino effect and delay the economic recovery in the United States, I have to say I actually feel this is good news. Who in the hell ever decided owning a home was one's 'god-given right' as an American? This kind of thinking is part of what to led to economic collapse in the first place. With much of the country still in the clutches of foreclosure why should we continue to think we are 'entitled' to own a home?
Before I elaborate too much more, let me first say this: I realize there are so many people out there who bought homes responsibly with a huge down payment, had a comfortable savings, and paid all their bills on time. Then the recession hit, they lost their jobs, their savings dwindled and they eventually lost their homes. My heart does go out to those people.
My heart does not go out to any homeowner who had to struggle to come up with their down payment, entered into one of those ridiculous home loans with the balloon payments on the end, or thought they deserved to be a home owner when they struggled to make ends meet or pay their bills on time. Why did so many people in this situation feel they deserved to own a home? That's what renting is for. This may sound callous, and yes banks are at fault for offering home loans to people with shaky credit.
Personally I would never, ever, try to purchase a home unless I had paid off my debts, my credit score was above a 720, and I had 40% set aside as a down payment.
But this whole 'American Dream' thing is silly. Does owning a home with a heavy mortgage out in the suburbs with one or two car payments and the trapeze act you walk with your check book each month make you more of an American? No. Home ownership is a privilege for those who have learned how to balance their budgets and manage their money, for those who have proven they can save money, for those who can actually afford to own a home.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Rock On Mrs. Hillary!
I saw an article on CNN today from Jack Cafferty. It was more an opinion piece from the cantankerous old dude discussing the recent rumblings that President Obama will replace Vice President Joe Biden with Secretary of State Hillary Clinton as the VP running mate in the 2012 Presidential election.
First off, that's two years away. A LOT can happen in two years.
Second, I don't want Hillary Clinton to be Vice President. Let's face it: the woman should have been President, not Obama. Obama has proven himself to be a man who just lets every Tom, Dick, and Berther say whatever the fuck they want without firing back. In a time of economic and social woe we need a firebrand in the White House. That is not Barrack Obama. If he's not going to be the angry Black Man he refuses to be what the fuck is the point?!?!?! Hillary would not quietly take the abuse Barrack is taking. She has balls ... balls bigger than every Conservative Comb Over taking pot shots at the White House. Hillary has always show the spine that Obama should be showing. My point, Hillary has more influence as Secretary of State than she would as Vice President. Unless she's going to the Senate chambers with a whip and a dominatrix outfit leave her be.
First off, that's two years away. A LOT can happen in two years.
Second, I don't want Hillary Clinton to be Vice President. Let's face it: the woman should have been President, not Obama. Obama has proven himself to be a man who just lets every Tom, Dick, and Berther say whatever the fuck they want without firing back. In a time of economic and social woe we need a firebrand in the White House. That is not Barrack Obama. If he's not going to be the angry Black Man he refuses to be what the fuck is the point?!?!?! Hillary would not quietly take the abuse Barrack is taking. She has balls ... balls bigger than every Conservative Comb Over taking pot shots at the White House. Hillary has always show the spine that Obama should be showing. My point, Hillary has more influence as Secretary of State than she would as Vice President. Unless she's going to the Senate chambers with a whip and a dominatrix outfit leave her be.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Ohhh Yay For THe Little People ... What?! Not Those Little People!
Okay anyone who has small children may hate me after read this blog posting. If you're easily offended and lack a sense of humor I would suggest finding another blog to read.
I don't want to give the impression that I hate children. I don't. In fact, many years ago I was a child myself. Okay, those of you laughing already can fuck yourselves with with an ice pick. Yes, I was once a small child; a cute one at that. But no, I do not hate children even though I'm not overly child-friendly. What irritates the hell out of me are children that are not supervised and allowed to run amok in places where they should be leash... I mean supervised.
Let me give you an example. Yesterday Jeremy and I were at the Mall of America. I'd estimate that eighty percent of the population in that mall were children, most of whom were probably under the age of thirteen. It sucks when you're trying to walk around in a civilized fashion and you have half-pints running in front of you, cutting you off, causing you to bump in other people or make sudden detours. I can't even remember how many times I rolled my eyes or gave a mental scowl at some heathen without his ADHD medication, or a parent there to properly beat his or her ass. And don't even get me started on the adult conversation we overheard some some preteens having on the train to the mall. I didn't know whether to laugh or puke, and since my body couldn't decide I just simply became gassy.
Oh, and even though she wasn't a child I want to give a special shout-out to Chow-Mini ... you know who you are gurrrl!
This evening, however, I saw something beautiful. I was in Target in downtown Minneapolis and I saw a small child, in a harness, attached to a leash! Immediately I wanted to congratulate him on the excellent parental skills I perceived him to possess. I wanted to buy him a beer as a reward.
Okay so ... my question is this: are child leashes harsh things? Everyone with a child might squawk like chickens at the thought of leashing their child. But let me ask all you parents who are so sure your child is the most angelic creature to bless this ball of rock: how many times have you seen a woman in your local Target or Cost-Co or Wal-Mart (if you live in the South or wear stretch pants because you can't find pants that fit you, in which case you probably are the woman in question) trying to shop and she has a toddler sitting in the shopping cart, an infant in one arm (while she pushes the cart and grabs items off the shelf with another) and an army of four or five bad ass children running around being shit-tastic asswipes, when they should be grabbing the items off the shelves for their tired ass mother (who was probably wishing she had a bit more pro-choice earlier in life).
Oh okay, so that was a bad example. Wah wah wah, I'm an asshole. This is why I will never be a parent. I have zero desire to be a parent; I don't have any paternal longings. In fact, a nice house with my boyfriend (in the future), a dog or two and some kitties ... that's all I need. I don't want to spend my Saturday afternoon scrubbing Crayola Magenta off my Cream-colored walls and yelling at some crying six-year-old who claims he is sorry when he really did it to piss me off because I wouldn't buy him a goddamn pony for his goddamn sixth birthday. By the way, I will never have a Cream-colored wall in my house (when I actually own one). Fuck that Midwestern-Granny-House Bullshit.
So what can you, the reader, take away from this blog other than the fact that Mike should not have children of his own (nieces and nephews are awesome, I can spoil the shit out of them and send them back to their parents to be bad ass children) or that he believes children in public should be seen and not heard? Perhaps you can infer that I am a concerned citizen ... concerned about the out-of-control irresponsible parents who let their kids act like assholes in public. Perhaps your conclusion is I, am indeed, the asshole.
Either way, there's an asshole running amok somewhere. And, at least for the next sixty or seventy years, I won't need a diaper change. So neener neener!
I don't want to give the impression that I hate children. I don't. In fact, many years ago I was a child myself. Okay, those of you laughing already can fuck yourselves with with an ice pick. Yes, I was once a small child; a cute one at that. But no, I do not hate children even though I'm not overly child-friendly. What irritates the hell out of me are children that are not supervised and allowed to run amok in places where they should be leash... I mean supervised.
Let me give you an example. Yesterday Jeremy and I were at the Mall of America. I'd estimate that eighty percent of the population in that mall were children, most of whom were probably under the age of thirteen. It sucks when you're trying to walk around in a civilized fashion and you have half-pints running in front of you, cutting you off, causing you to bump in other people or make sudden detours. I can't even remember how many times I rolled my eyes or gave a mental scowl at some heathen without his ADHD medication, or a parent there to properly beat his or her ass. And don't even get me started on the adult conversation we overheard some some preteens having on the train to the mall. I didn't know whether to laugh or puke, and since my body couldn't decide I just simply became gassy.
Oh, and even though she wasn't a child I want to give a special shout-out to Chow-Mini ... you know who you are gurrrl!
This evening, however, I saw something beautiful. I was in Target in downtown Minneapolis and I saw a small child, in a harness, attached to a leash! Immediately I wanted to congratulate him on the excellent parental skills I perceived him to possess. I wanted to buy him a beer as a reward.
Okay so ... my question is this: are child leashes harsh things? Everyone with a child might squawk like chickens at the thought of leashing their child. But let me ask all you parents who are so sure your child is the most angelic creature to bless this ball of rock: how many times have you seen a woman in your local Target or Cost-Co or Wal-Mart (if you live in the South or wear stretch pants because you can't find pants that fit you, in which case you probably are the woman in question) trying to shop and she has a toddler sitting in the shopping cart, an infant in one arm (while she pushes the cart and grabs items off the shelf with another) and an army of four or five bad ass children running around being shit-tastic asswipes, when they should be grabbing the items off the shelves for their tired ass mother (who was probably wishing she had a bit more pro-choice earlier in life).
Oh okay, so that was a bad example. Wah wah wah, I'm an asshole. This is why I will never be a parent. I have zero desire to be a parent; I don't have any paternal longings. In fact, a nice house with my boyfriend (in the future), a dog or two and some kitties ... that's all I need. I don't want to spend my Saturday afternoon scrubbing Crayola Magenta off my Cream-colored walls and yelling at some crying six-year-old who claims he is sorry when he really did it to piss me off because I wouldn't buy him a goddamn pony for his goddamn sixth birthday. By the way, I will never have a Cream-colored wall in my house (when I actually own one). Fuck that Midwestern-Granny-House Bullshit.
So what can you, the reader, take away from this blog other than the fact that Mike should not have children of his own (nieces and nephews are awesome, I can spoil the shit out of them and send them back to their parents to be bad ass children) or that he believes children in public should be seen and not heard? Perhaps you can infer that I am a concerned citizen ... concerned about the out-of-control irresponsible parents who let their kids act like assholes in public. Perhaps your conclusion is I, am indeed, the asshole.
Either way, there's an asshole running amok somewhere. And, at least for the next sixty or seventy years, I won't need a diaper change. So neener neener!
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
A Rant!!! What? A Rant? No, not from me.
I hate saying this ... I really do ... okay ... I really don't.
I like President Obama, I really do. But ya know, I want and I think we need the Angry Black Man in the White House. His insistence is wallowing in the land of passive aggressive is going to cost him an election ... unless the GOP does something really fucking stupid like nominate Sarah Palin or Newt Gingrich as their next Presidential candidate in 2012.
What the fuck is wrong with this man? Did he break his backbone? I can understand not wanting to come off as a stereotype, but seriously ... George W. Bush stood up for his convictions better than Obama, and Bush was a giant douchecock covered in an oil slick bigger than the Middle East. Obama needs to stand up and say "hey, look asswipes, you elected me to run this country now sit down, shut the fuck up and let me try to correct the mistakes of the asshole you elected in 2000 and 2004." Of course, that's what I would say. And that's why I'll never be President. Well, that's one of the many reasons I'd never want to be President. I lack the patience to deal idiots.
I voted for Hillary Clinton in November 2008 ... Yes I wrote Miss Hillary's name in the "other" line because she was my candidate. Hillary has bigger balls than any man in Washington and could lead better than Obama can. But that's past ...
Of course Obama is getting the sour end of a shit stick. Not that there's a sweet end. As the President, uninformed Americans who only passively pay attention to politics (i.e. 90%) are blaming him for everything. Most of what they're blaming him for stems from Bush, of course Bush left office almost two years ago, so no one seems to remember how fiercely he pillaged our collective assholes with splintery broom handles with a smile on his lopsided face. To his discredit, Barrack Obama too often references George W. Bush's mishandling of our Nation. Therefore he comes off as a pass-the-buck guy. No one likes that, especially when we languish in a recession.
I do want to take a moment and address every conservative who bashes the Democrats in Congress ... and the Independents leaning toward the GOP now. What the fuck is wrong with you?!?!?! I read something on CNN the other day ... some asshole commented how the Dems have had control of Congress since 2006 and haven't really fixed much. Yes, the Democrats took back control of Congress in the 2006 elections, however, George W. Bush issued more presidential vetoes in the next two years than any President in history before him. So get over yourselves, pull your Palin/Gingrich/Limbaugh/Bachmann dildos out of your butts and pay attention.
Everyone is crying ... "Oooh I can't find a job!" or "Wow the economy still sucks." What the fuck did you think was going to happen?!?! As someone who spent ten months looking for a full time job I know how much that hurts. But, how many people out there who lost a job making $50,000 a year or more is laying around on unemployment because they refuse to take a job making less money? Suck it up bitches, those jobs are gone. Get off your lazy asses, downsize a little, sell your big ass cars, and go back to work for $30,000 or $35,000. It amazes me how many people out there think all the jobs that were lost are coming back.
They're not. The jobs we regain will be different jobs in different fields, taking our economy and our country in different directions.
I'm not saying I am above my rant. All I'm saying is ... Americans are too easily swayed by a sound bite on CNN, FUX NEWS, or MSNBC or the Washington Post or the NY Times or wherever.
I like President Obama, I really do. But ya know, I want and I think we need the Angry Black Man in the White House. His insistence is wallowing in the land of passive aggressive is going to cost him an election ... unless the GOP does something really fucking stupid like nominate Sarah Palin or Newt Gingrich as their next Presidential candidate in 2012.
What the fuck is wrong with this man? Did he break his backbone? I can understand not wanting to come off as a stereotype, but seriously ... George W. Bush stood up for his convictions better than Obama, and Bush was a giant douchecock covered in an oil slick bigger than the Middle East. Obama needs to stand up and say "hey, look asswipes, you elected me to run this country now sit down, shut the fuck up and let me try to correct the mistakes of the asshole you elected in 2000 and 2004." Of course, that's what I would say. And that's why I'll never be President. Well, that's one of the many reasons I'd never want to be President. I lack the patience to deal idiots.
I voted for Hillary Clinton in November 2008 ... Yes I wrote Miss Hillary's name in the "other" line because she was my candidate. Hillary has bigger balls than any man in Washington and could lead better than Obama can. But that's past ...
Of course Obama is getting the sour end of a shit stick. Not that there's a sweet end. As the President, uninformed Americans who only passively pay attention to politics (i.e. 90%) are blaming him for everything. Most of what they're blaming him for stems from Bush, of course Bush left office almost two years ago, so no one seems to remember how fiercely he pillaged our collective assholes with splintery broom handles with a smile on his lopsided face. To his discredit, Barrack Obama too often references George W. Bush's mishandling of our Nation. Therefore he comes off as a pass-the-buck guy. No one likes that, especially when we languish in a recession.
I do want to take a moment and address every conservative who bashes the Democrats in Congress ... and the Independents leaning toward the GOP now. What the fuck is wrong with you?!?!?! I read something on CNN the other day ... some asshole commented how the Dems have had control of Congress since 2006 and haven't really fixed much. Yes, the Democrats took back control of Congress in the 2006 elections, however, George W. Bush issued more presidential vetoes in the next two years than any President in history before him. So get over yourselves, pull your Palin/Gingrich/Limbaugh/Bachmann dildos out of your butts and pay attention.
Everyone is crying ... "Oooh I can't find a job!" or "Wow the economy still sucks." What the fuck did you think was going to happen?!?! As someone who spent ten months looking for a full time job I know how much that hurts. But, how many people out there who lost a job making $50,000 a year or more is laying around on unemployment because they refuse to take a job making less money? Suck it up bitches, those jobs are gone. Get off your lazy asses, downsize a little, sell your big ass cars, and go back to work for $30,000 or $35,000. It amazes me how many people out there think all the jobs that were lost are coming back.
They're not. The jobs we regain will be different jobs in different fields, taking our economy and our country in different directions.
I'm not saying I am above my rant. All I'm saying is ... Americans are too easily swayed by a sound bite on CNN, FUX NEWS, or MSNBC or the Washington Post or the NY Times or wherever.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Pride 2010
So Pride 2010 was 90% what I wanted it to be ... 10% missing. That's actually pretty good considering!
Let's start with the missing ... the missing was Nate. I miss him and his friendship immensely. I've long since gotten over the being in love with him part, but I do love him and his friendship ... and I fucking miss him. I hope he had a great Pride.
Now let's go with the good ... first there's Jeremy. Jeremy isn't something I originally expected to mean so much ... I mean ... he's awesome and I knew from the get-go there was a chemistry and a connection ... but I didn't want to need him or fall in love with him ... especially so fucking quickly ... but I have and it's scary and wonderful and intense and crazy and all kinds of other emotions I've not felt in so long I've forgotten how to properly name them!
Chris and Ross were also awesome! Chris came from Rapid City again. Ross is here... it was awesome to formulate a group that actually got along and liked each other ... kind of a new thing for me. I also got to hang a bit with Sam, Alex, and Vanessa!
Overall this Pride was a lot like Pride 2009 ... it was about friendships. But it was also about falling in love ... well, the continuing of falling in love.
Let's start with the missing ... the missing was Nate. I miss him and his friendship immensely. I've long since gotten over the being in love with him part, but I do love him and his friendship ... and I fucking miss him. I hope he had a great Pride.
Now let's go with the good ... first there's Jeremy. Jeremy isn't something I originally expected to mean so much ... I mean ... he's awesome and I knew from the get-go there was a chemistry and a connection ... but I didn't want to need him or fall in love with him ... especially so fucking quickly ... but I have and it's scary and wonderful and intense and crazy and all kinds of other emotions I've not felt in so long I've forgotten how to properly name them!
Chris and Ross were also awesome! Chris came from Rapid City again. Ross is here... it was awesome to formulate a group that actually got along and liked each other ... kind of a new thing for me. I also got to hang a bit with Sam, Alex, and Vanessa!
Overall this Pride was a lot like Pride 2009 ... it was about friendships. But it was also about falling in love ... well, the continuing of falling in love.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Falling in Love ... Is Hard Period.
I have never been the kind of guy who move slowly when it comes to romance. In fact, I've always had a very Samantha Jones attitude when it comes to love. I'm not opposed to it, but I certainly do not go around looking for it. In fact, I've been perfectly okay with the fact that I'd be eternally single and just 'date' sporadically.
I have to say, though, my inner Miranda Hobbs is seeping through again... that cynic who has a touch of love just waiting for someone to give it to ...
I have to say, though, my inner Miranda Hobbs is seeping through again... that cynic who has a touch of love just waiting for someone to give it to ...
I have forgotten what it feels like to have feelings for someone who actually feels the same feelings for me. In a way it frightens me because I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. And yet I throw myself forward in this melange of feelings with reckless abandon, like some crazy Charlotte York.
As gay as the aforementioned Sex and the City references sound, they're accurate. I am terrified I am going to screw this up. I am at a loss for dating someone who actually feels for me what I feel for him. I didn't want a relationship at this point in my life; I have truly been okay being single. I'm actually happy single.
However ...
Now I'm happy not being single, so I have to figure out why that is.
Pretty true to form, the men in my life who actually make a real, lasting impact come into my life two to three years apart, so it is time for something if pattern is to be trusted. However, this time I feel strange butterflies. I feel like there's this electric cloud above me making all the bad stuff alright.
So here I go again ... embarking on a romantic journey. Afraid. Excited. Enchanted. Falling in love. Ready to Dive Head Fucking First!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Give It a Fucking Rest!
For sixty days I have watched with dismay the tragedy unfolding in the Gulf of Mexico. For sixty days I have looked at pictures of oil-soaked animals, read stories of the men who lost their lives on that rig, watched as Tony Hayward and his cohorts at BP tried to wiggle their way out of their mess and pass the buck. For sixty days I have watched as the Federal Government became involved, the Senate finally grilled Hayward, and Obama's approval ratings slipped a little as the American public scrutinized him for being "too soft" on BP and not getting angry enough.
Before I go any further let me ask you this White America? Do you really want an angry Black man in the White House? I'm guessing not. Personally, I do, in fact I want him to just get downright livid but that would only perpetuate negative stereotypes for African Americans.
Now I understand why many Americans have criticized Obama. He is typically a very mild-mannered, articulate man. While I personally find that a refreshing change from George W Bush's firebrand redneck attitude and demeanor, it's not hard to see why it's off-putting to many Americans.
But let me ask you all (meaning those of you criticizing the President for not doing enough) this: what exactly do you want Obama to do? BP is a privately owned company. While it's federally regulated, it's not federally funded. Yes, the government was right to step in, and yes BP is paying and will continue to pay for a very, very long time. President Obama secured $20 billion from BP for the victims of the Gulf and the relief efforts. This is more money than any president in U.S. history has ever secured from a private company for any sort of relief effort. Give the man his due for that.
I mean, what do you want from him?!?! It's not like he can have Tony Hayward spanked and tossed into an underground dungeon .... KINKY!!!!!! I wonder if Hayward would like that. He has a bit of a gay look about him. Am I the only one who thinks so? I did read he may get some jail time, that may be like a trip to Rio for him! Of course I'm sure he has enough money to avoid jail.
But I digress...
Back to my rant.
Obama also received criticism because he said that it is time for America to start really working at lessening its dependency on oil. This drew criticism from the DrillBabyDrill-ers, most Conservatives, and the ever fun party faves, the Tea-Baggers. Obama went on to say that it is time start really investing in green energy.
Logistically this will take a while. It will take longer than the twenty years Obama believes we can do this in. Oh, and Mr. President, while I applaud you for this, lead by example, please. America is such a nation of excess I do not believe we (as a nation) could truly lessen our dependency on oil without a complete overhaul of our lifestyle. No, I'm not talking about all the fun techno gadgets we enjoy. I'm talking about our cars, boats, SUVs, trucks, and ATVs.
Now before you brand me a Greenie (I have to give Mama Palin some props for that one!), I realize it's not feasible for everyone to just stop driving or go trade in for Hybrids. And while they're not that economical at this point, electric cars will get better. After all, there are people in more rural areas who drive an hour to and fro each day for work. We can't just expect these people to take mass transit. Public transportation in rural towns (even the larger ones) isn't all that great.
However, people who live in large metro areas have no excuse for sitting an hour in traffic each day. I mean, can't you people text and mess with your iPods on the bus rather than in your cars?
I love to drive. I'll be the first to admit that. It's relaxing, it's a lot of fun. However, my car died almost a year ago and I've actually learned to live life without one. Since moving back to Minneapolis it's become a lot easier. Public transit is very good here, and while it's sometimes not as convenient or as fast as driving, it meets my needs and it's a lot cheaper than owning a car. Do I miss my car? Yes I do. Am I good without it? Yes I am.
Now a question for all you people criticizing our President for his handling of the Gulf crisis? How many of you are still buying gas from BP? Perhaps you should check the next gas station you have to stop at.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Big Brother Is Watching Your Asshole!!!!
Alright so what the fuck ....
.... is up with Loopt and Foursquare?
I see this crap on Facebook all the time. Now, I don't even have a Twitter account. Other than my Facebook and blog updates is my life all that exciting? And by the way, my Facebook updates and blogs probably seem mundane most of the time.
So why do so many people feel the need to use services like Loopt and Foursquare, which post to their Facebook accounts as updates? Clearly these services were invented by paparazzi to trick stupid ass celebutantes into telling them where they would be taking off their panties and ordering their lattes in their bras. So why ... and I repeat, why ... are ordinary people using these services?
Does anyone really care that you're at Ikea picking out generic ass furniture meant for short people or standing in line at Taco Johns? Can't you just text your friends and say "hey, this is where I am if you want to join me, meet me here?"
What this really means folks is that Big Brother is watching you! As if privacy wasn't already in danger of being a thing of the past....
.... is up with Loopt and Foursquare?
I see this crap on Facebook all the time. Now, I don't even have a Twitter account. Other than my Facebook and blog updates is my life all that exciting? And by the way, my Facebook updates and blogs probably seem mundane most of the time.
So why do so many people feel the need to use services like Loopt and Foursquare, which post to their Facebook accounts as updates? Clearly these services were invented by paparazzi to trick stupid ass celebutantes into telling them where they would be taking off their panties and ordering their lattes in their bras. So why ... and I repeat, why ... are ordinary people using these services?
Does anyone really care that you're at Ikea picking out generic ass furniture meant for short people or standing in line at Taco Johns? Can't you just text your friends and say "hey, this is where I am if you want to join me, meet me here?"
What this really means folks is that Big Brother is watching you! As if privacy wasn't already in danger of being a thing of the past....
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Blame It On My Wild Heart
Fire on fire, rain on my face
Fever goes higher, what can you do?
Wild in the darkest places of your mind
That's where I need you most
~Stevie Nicks
Well damn it...
I did not plan it ...
But it's happened
Once again I am enchanted
And my pulse quickens
Inside the shadow of my castle walls
Where did he come from? How did I find him? Why was I so lucky? I definitely received my karmic shot in the arm with him. I want to take it slow ... to make this wonderful thing evolve in the right way. Thinking of him puts a big ass smile on my face.
Fever goes higher, what can you do?
Wild in the darkest places of your mind
That's where I need you most
~Stevie Nicks
Well damn it...
I did not plan it ...
But it's happened
Once again I am enchanted
And my pulse quickens
Inside the shadow of my castle walls
Where did he come from? How did I find him? Why was I so lucky? I definitely received my karmic shot in the arm with him. I want to take it slow ... to make this wonderful thing evolve in the right way. Thinking of him puts a big ass smile on my face.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Torched
Somewhere out in the back of my mind, comes a shot in the arm.
We've all heard someone, somewhere, say it: when one door closes, another door opens.
This past week has been, so far, a strange melange of emotions. Something new, very wonderful, and powerful is brewing in my life, and I'm not talking about my new job ... which is going great. At the same time, I've suffered two staggering losses this week (both have been stewing for a while, one was more expected than the other). My two very best friends have cut themselves out of my life; one was a very amicable, mutually agreed upon split while the other has begun to froth with contention and anger.
Loss is a very strange beast; typically I wrap myself up in my emotions but Loss has it's own corner in the basement, unfettered and secluded from its peers like a leper, making dark love to me in my quiet time like a ghastly visitor praying to not been seen.
So far I've dealt with the loss very well. Although, I cannot really afford myself the luxury of falling apart, so I soldier on in dramatic fashion. Come to think of it, I've never soldiered in any other fashion. Is that my mark on the beast?
In an odd twist of something so intangible I dare not try to name it, I feel an odd sense of relief over the loss. Neither loss is something I wanted; I love both of these individuals with everything I have. The amicable loss .... fuck that terminology, that friendship had far too much passion to settle for that ... I'll say appropriate loss ... the appropriate loss was friendly and although initiated by him, mutually agreed upon. I do have hope that friendship will pick back up some day. The other one ... I do think it's done. Too much has happened, almost all of it my fault, but too much. The relief comes from the fact that I feel more at peace than I did before. The conflicts that exist here can now be extinguished.
No one escapes from this battle ... undamaged. I will adapt to this silence ... I will live here without you ... I'm learning to not hear your songs.
We've all heard someone, somewhere, say it: when one door closes, another door opens.
This past week has been, so far, a strange melange of emotions. Something new, very wonderful, and powerful is brewing in my life, and I'm not talking about my new job ... which is going great. At the same time, I've suffered two staggering losses this week (both have been stewing for a while, one was more expected than the other). My two very best friends have cut themselves out of my life; one was a very amicable, mutually agreed upon split while the other has begun to froth with contention and anger.
Loss is a very strange beast; typically I wrap myself up in my emotions but Loss has it's own corner in the basement, unfettered and secluded from its peers like a leper, making dark love to me in my quiet time like a ghastly visitor praying to not been seen.
So far I've dealt with the loss very well. Although, I cannot really afford myself the luxury of falling apart, so I soldier on in dramatic fashion. Come to think of it, I've never soldiered in any other fashion. Is that my mark on the beast?
In an odd twist of something so intangible I dare not try to name it, I feel an odd sense of relief over the loss. Neither loss is something I wanted; I love both of these individuals with everything I have. The amicable loss .... fuck that terminology, that friendship had far too much passion to settle for that ... I'll say appropriate loss ... the appropriate loss was friendly and although initiated by him, mutually agreed upon. I do have hope that friendship will pick back up some day. The other one ... I do think it's done. Too much has happened, almost all of it my fault, but too much. The relief comes from the fact that I feel more at peace than I did before. The conflicts that exist here can now be extinguished.
No one escapes from this battle ... undamaged. I will adapt to this silence ... I will live here without you ... I'm learning to not hear your songs.
Cunting Obstacles!
The stupid cunt to which I am referring first is the package of coconut macaroons sitting in the fridge. The bottoms are lightly dipped in fudge so when I pop one of the bite-sized morsels in mouth ... two, three, four more follow. I allow myself to bask in the oral satisfaction cascading down my taste buds before I bring myself back to reality. Those last tricky fifteen pounds are never going to come off if I keep doing that. "Fuck it, they're too good! Who gives a shit if you're fifteen pounds overweight?" Then I get dressed for work the next day and realize if I don't stop I'm going to need to replace an entire wardrobe!
*Sigh*
Another cunt of the highest order is the pair of dress shoes I own. They 're cute, they're black, and they're shiny. But they hurt my fucking feet! If I drove to work (Holy Satan Jesus Christ Gang Bang I miss driving!!!) it wouldn't matter; walking and riding the bus on the other hand is not so pretty on my pretty feet. And yes, my feet are pretty. Do you have a problem with that? Must replace the cunt shoes. Must replace the cunt shoes. Must replace the cunt shoes.
... and speaking of the biggest cunt ... the weekend. Taunting me. Promising me a good time with flashy shiny objects. But does she deliver? Noooooo, it's all "Oooh I'm here, I'm waiting, I want you." What a tease. What a cunt.
*Sigh*
Another cunt of the highest order is the pair of dress shoes I own. They 're cute, they're black, and they're shiny. But they hurt my fucking feet! If I drove to work (Holy Satan Jesus Christ Gang Bang I miss driving!!!) it wouldn't matter; walking and riding the bus on the other hand is not so pretty on my pretty feet. And yes, my feet are pretty. Do you have a problem with that? Must replace the cunt shoes. Must replace the cunt shoes. Must replace the cunt shoes.
... and speaking of the biggest cunt ... the weekend. Taunting me. Promising me a good time with flashy shiny objects. But does she deliver? Noooooo, it's all "Oooh I'm here, I'm waiting, I want you." What a tease. What a cunt.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Why Pride?
Last year I wrote that I wanted to make Pride 2009 something more than the previous Pride celebrations I'd attended. Pride '09 was my fifth Pride celebration in Minneapolis. While I had a fantastic time with my friends, my Pride celebration turned out to be much like the four before it.
So again, as June waits in the wings like a over-pumped diva who's had eight-too-many vodka diets, I find myself thinking about Pride. What does Pride mean to me? Am I proud to be gay? Fuck yeah I am, but why does that matter anymore, in this day and age? As time goes on Gay Pride will diminish and it'll simply be a human rights thing, not a gay rights thing.
I guess the first thing that comes to mind is paying respect to those who came before me. I can't imagine being a gay man in the eighties or the seventies, and mostfuckingdefinitely not in the fifties or sixties. Today I am able to walk around and be myself. I can hold hands with my boyfriend (if I had one) in public to minimal ridicule, I can attend massive parties like Pride, I can go to gay bars without fear of being accosted as I leave, and while I can't get married in forty-five states or serve openly in the military, I enjoy a lot more freedoms than my gay brothers from twenty years ago.
So there's definitely a respect there. I also think about myself in my early twenties ... ten years ago ... I was out and proud, and I had a lot of gay friends but I don't think I really understood what my responsibility was as a gay man. Hell, I don't think I understand it now, at nearly 32. Part of me feels, as a minority in this country, I have a social responsibility to progress gay rights. Another part of me shits on the concept; I never signed up to be an activist and I just want to live my life. Not that I've done anything that would classify me an activist.
So Pride 2010 will be my sixth consecutive Pride in Minneapolis. Am I getting sick of being here for Pride? Yes, mainly because I always do the same things. I mean, hell yeah, Pride is a party. But it should be more than that, shouldn't it?
So why Pride? I have to say I don't really know what Pride means to me at this point. Am I disillusioned you ask? No I don't think so. Jaded and bitter? Probably. But I think that comes with age. Most of us aren't lucky enough to be blessed with the same optimism we entered adulthood with.
So again, as June waits in the wings like a over-pumped diva who's had eight-too-many vodka diets, I find myself thinking about Pride. What does Pride mean to me? Am I proud to be gay? Fuck yeah I am, but why does that matter anymore, in this day and age? As time goes on Gay Pride will diminish and it'll simply be a human rights thing, not a gay rights thing.
I guess the first thing that comes to mind is paying respect to those who came before me. I can't imagine being a gay man in the eighties or the seventies, and mostfuckingdefinitely not in the fifties or sixties. Today I am able to walk around and be myself. I can hold hands with my boyfriend (if I had one) in public to minimal ridicule, I can attend massive parties like Pride, I can go to gay bars without fear of being accosted as I leave, and while I can't get married in forty-five states or serve openly in the military, I enjoy a lot more freedoms than my gay brothers from twenty years ago.
So there's definitely a respect there. I also think about myself in my early twenties ... ten years ago ... I was out and proud, and I had a lot of gay friends but I don't think I really understood what my responsibility was as a gay man. Hell, I don't think I understand it now, at nearly 32. Part of me feels, as a minority in this country, I have a social responsibility to progress gay rights. Another part of me shits on the concept; I never signed up to be an activist and I just want to live my life. Not that I've done anything that would classify me an activist.
So Pride 2010 will be my sixth consecutive Pride in Minneapolis. Am I getting sick of being here for Pride? Yes, mainly because I always do the same things. I mean, hell yeah, Pride is a party. But it should be more than that, shouldn't it?
So why Pride? I have to say I don't really know what Pride means to me at this point. Am I disillusioned you ask? No I don't think so. Jaded and bitter? Probably. But I think that comes with age. Most of us aren't lucky enough to be blessed with the same optimism we entered adulthood with.
A Pox On Humanity
Recently, while reading articles on the House and Senate's votes that will eventually (hopefully before November 2010's midterm elections) spell the end of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, I came across an article detailing how military chaplains, spurred on by the Family Research Council, are against the repeal of DADT.
I'm not going to go into my feelings on DADT or why repealing it makes a world of sense ... why it's just the human thing to do.
I will, however, wade into the pool of my hatred of organized religion. Here is another example where organized religion has managed to creep into the political machine. Anyone remember Separation of Church and State?
Chaplains play a very important role - I won't deny that - in the lives of many, many service members (gay and straight) currently serving in the U.S. military. Their services, however, are not forced upon the men and women wearing uniforms. Why then, are the opinions of Chaplains, of any importance in this debate?
It doesn't take a lot to see this is just another attempt from the Right Wing Nut Jobs to sully the progress of gay rights in America. I mean, if it were up to the true conservatives, Americans would still be able to own slaves, women wouldn't have any rights, and the sun would still revolve around the Earth, so why the fuck are we listening to the loons? Do these jackasses even subscribe to the hate speech they pander? Probably not ... many of them are out participating in gay sex acts in foreign countries, airport bathrooms (Larry I'm talkin' to you gurl!), and hotel rooms.
I guess what I'm getting to ... yes, I know, I take the long road ... deal with it bitches ... is what kind of country would we have if religion didn't play such a powerful role? I mean, I'm not knocking faith, but faith and what faith means, has absolutely nothing to do with organized religion, which is just a subversive form of sub-government. If you need any proof of this examine the Catholic Church at length.
Think about most social and global conflicts, wars ... most in their basic forms stem from religious differences. Anyone remember studying The Crusades? The Christians are still responsible, even after all this time, for shedding the most human blood in the name of God. I'm not just knocking religion here in the United States, I'm knocking it everywhere.
Now way back when ... when humans were nothing more tribal idiots banging sticks and grunting instead of talking ... religion was probably invented as some sort of mythology to explain the unexplainable. Earlier humans probably took comfort in a higher power watching over them. Indeed, millions of modern humans take comfort in this. Again, I'm not knocking faith or people who have faith in a higher power. If that's your thing ... go for it.
However, why does the Christian Right feel the need to judge everyone and everyone? Doesn't "God" say Judge not lest ye be judged yourselves or some boo-hockey like that? I have to wonder, how many real Christians would exist if you removed the Sunday Christians (a.k.a. hypocrites) who have nothing better to do than sin it up with the best of us and then turn around and judge us. Probably not very many.
Faith gives people comfort and hope; but what does religion give you? I mean, do any of you who are Christians or Sunday Christians or Catholics or Muslim or whatever ever stop and mentally separate your faith in a higher power from the actual politics of your religion? And to any asshole who is going to say "well faith and religion go hand-in-hand," fuck you and the bible you spooged on a few minutes ago. If you actually believe that, then you haven't really thought it out.
Plain and simple ... organized religion is nothing more than a pox, a blight, on humanity and the world and its citizens would be a lot better off without it.
Goodbye from my asshole.
I'm not going to go into my feelings on DADT or why repealing it makes a world of sense ... why it's just the human thing to do.
I will, however, wade into the pool of my hatred of organized religion. Here is another example where organized religion has managed to creep into the political machine. Anyone remember Separation of Church and State?
Chaplains play a very important role - I won't deny that - in the lives of many, many service members (gay and straight) currently serving in the U.S. military. Their services, however, are not forced upon the men and women wearing uniforms. Why then, are the opinions of Chaplains, of any importance in this debate?
It doesn't take a lot to see this is just another attempt from the Right Wing Nut Jobs to sully the progress of gay rights in America. I mean, if it were up to the true conservatives, Americans would still be able to own slaves, women wouldn't have any rights, and the sun would still revolve around the Earth, so why the fuck are we listening to the loons? Do these jackasses even subscribe to the hate speech they pander? Probably not ... many of them are out participating in gay sex acts in foreign countries, airport bathrooms (Larry I'm talkin' to you gurl!), and hotel rooms.
I guess what I'm getting to ... yes, I know, I take the long road ... deal with it bitches ... is what kind of country would we have if religion didn't play such a powerful role? I mean, I'm not knocking faith, but faith and what faith means, has absolutely nothing to do with organized religion, which is just a subversive form of sub-government. If you need any proof of this examine the Catholic Church at length.
Think about most social and global conflicts, wars ... most in their basic forms stem from religious differences. Anyone remember studying The Crusades? The Christians are still responsible, even after all this time, for shedding the most human blood in the name of God. I'm not just knocking religion here in the United States, I'm knocking it everywhere.
Now way back when ... when humans were nothing more tribal idiots banging sticks and grunting instead of talking ... religion was probably invented as some sort of mythology to explain the unexplainable. Earlier humans probably took comfort in a higher power watching over them. Indeed, millions of modern humans take comfort in this. Again, I'm not knocking faith or people who have faith in a higher power. If that's your thing ... go for it.
However, why does the Christian Right feel the need to judge everyone and everyone? Doesn't "God" say Judge not lest ye be judged yourselves or some boo-hockey like that? I have to wonder, how many real Christians would exist if you removed the Sunday Christians (a.k.a. hypocrites) who have nothing better to do than sin it up with the best of us and then turn around and judge us. Probably not very many.
Faith gives people comfort and hope; but what does religion give you? I mean, do any of you who are Christians or Sunday Christians or Catholics or Muslim or whatever ever stop and mentally separate your faith in a higher power from the actual politics of your religion? And to any asshole who is going to say "well faith and religion go hand-in-hand," fuck you and the bible you spooged on a few minutes ago. If you actually believe that, then you haven't really thought it out.
Plain and simple ... organized religion is nothing more than a pox, a blight, on humanity and the world and its citizens would be a lot better off without it.
Goodbye from my asshole.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
I've Had ... And I Want
So tonight I rewatched a move I've not seen in years ... a film I first watched in 1999 when it came out. As far as gay movies go, it was one of the first that was actually well-produced, well-scripted, and well-acted. If you've never seen a little romantic comedy called Trick, I recommend you get off your dildos and go rent it immediately. It's about two young guys who hook up, with the intent of having sex and end up doing everything other than have sex. It's cute, you'll have to watch.
My point is, the film, which is rather hope-inspiring as any good romantic comedy is, made me remember how optimistic and starstruck I was ten years ago. This was before my heart was majorly broken; before one disappointment after another made me jaded; before I became a cynic.
At twenty-one I was so sure I was going to take the world by the balls and show it who was boss. I was positive I'd find true love, and life would be hunky dory by the time I turned thirty. Well I turn thirty-two in two months, and I am here to say life isn't hunky dory. My optimism has taken a dark and twisty turn into something tangibly morbid.
But rather than go into all the reasons it isn't, I've got to wonder ... why isn't it? Have I become so cynical I can't see the opportunities starting me in the face? If a million dollar opportunity came up and slapped me in the face like a penis in the throes of oral depravity would I even recognize it? I'm really beginning to wonder ...
But what to do to shake things up? How to break out of my comfort zone this far into it?
I mean I could look at the things I've had. I've found love ... four times. I've had amazing jobs, amazing friends, amazing apartments. I've also had a shit ton of disappointments and made a ton of mistakes.
I wonder, though, if anyone else besides me ever feels like they've burned through life too fast. I mean, I've lived A LOT of life. Probably twenty years' worth in a decade's time. Sometimes I fear that means I'll spend the next decade just coasting through.
So I want to do something extreme ...
You can ride high atop your pony I know you won't fall ... 'cause the whole thing's phony.
You can fly swinging from your trapeze scaring all the people ... but you'll never scare me.
My point is, the film, which is rather hope-inspiring as any good romantic comedy is, made me remember how optimistic and starstruck I was ten years ago. This was before my heart was majorly broken; before one disappointment after another made me jaded; before I became a cynic.
At twenty-one I was so sure I was going to take the world by the balls and show it who was boss. I was positive I'd find true love, and life would be hunky dory by the time I turned thirty. Well I turn thirty-two in two months, and I am here to say life isn't hunky dory. My optimism has taken a dark and twisty turn into something tangibly morbid.
But rather than go into all the reasons it isn't, I've got to wonder ... why isn't it? Have I become so cynical I can't see the opportunities starting me in the face? If a million dollar opportunity came up and slapped me in the face like a penis in the throes of oral depravity would I even recognize it? I'm really beginning to wonder ...
But what to do to shake things up? How to break out of my comfort zone this far into it?
I mean I could look at the things I've had. I've found love ... four times. I've had amazing jobs, amazing friends, amazing apartments. I've also had a shit ton of disappointments and made a ton of mistakes.
I wonder, though, if anyone else besides me ever feels like they've burned through life too fast. I mean, I've lived A LOT of life. Probably twenty years' worth in a decade's time. Sometimes I fear that means I'll spend the next decade just coasting through.
So I want to do something extreme ...
You can ride high atop your pony I know you won't fall ... 'cause the whole thing's phony.
You can fly swinging from your trapeze scaring all the people ... but you'll never scare me.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
So You Think You're Normal?
Out of random boredom today I decided to browse some personal ads on singles sites. I'll be honest sometimes I do this just for a laugh if I'm surfing and want to kill some time. I went to several diverse sites: gay.com, yahoo.com, interracialsingles.net, christianmingle.com, and even eharmony.com. Out of all the profiles I looked at, be they posted by men, women, gay, straight, bisexual, people of color or ethnicity, handicap even, one word stood out: normal.
What I can't figure out is why anyone would want to date anyone normal or even describe himself or herself as normal? The dictionary defines normal as conforming to the standard or the common type; usual, not abnormal, regular and serving to establish a standard. Given the defintions of normal mentioned, I should just rest my case. But I'm going to put my size 9.5 in my mouth and keep going.
Why would anyone want to date someone who can be defined as "regular, usual, or conforming to the standard of the common type?" All that means is that when you go out on dates you're guaranteed a one-way trip to dullsville or snoozetown. Better hope they make a good vodka martini at the restaraunt you're eating at. That way when you're date is going on and on about how normal he or she is and how your parents are going to love him/her, you can look at them your glazed over eyes and they will mistake the mental daggers you're stabbing them with for complete adoration. A night at home watching McSteamy do McDreamy would be more fun than that (clearly that's the version of Grey's Anatomy that plays in my head, and we've all seen the "enter at your own risk" signs placed around my mind).
Dramatic comparison perhaps, but you get the point I hope.
Me, I prefer to date the freaks. The freaks will ensure that you are going to have a hell of a good time on your date and might even show you some things you've never seen before (get your minds out of the gutters pervs, unless of course you live there, I didn't mean it like that). The dates with the freaks are the ones that are going to stand out in your mind and make you smile when you think about them. Obviously, I'm not talking about the "individuals" who turn out to be stalkers, criminals, bad kissers, lousy lays, unwashed miscreants, and those who are generally of a bad element.
Why do we ruin perfectly fun words like "freak" or "deviant"? To deviate is not a bad thing. Everyonen deviates. A drunken or otherwise laptop computer-occupied airplane pilot might deviate from a planned flight path. The Senate or House might deviate from legislation to serve political ambition. Organized religion, in all its many forms, can be considered deviation from its earliest roots. A school teacher may deviate from a lesson plan that is out of date but still part of the cirriculum.
My point is deviants are not necessarily immoral and should not be judged so just because they are deviant; on the flipside, immorals are not always deviants stop ruining all the fun words. It wasn't that long ago GLBT individuals were thought of deviants and immoral (not really interchangeable terms, sorry). The immoral slogan comes from religious persecution of gays, so I'm not even going to go there because this entry will take days to complete. Gays were considered deviant because our way of life did not fit 'societal norms.' In some circles we are still considered deviants (P.S. Rick, Rush, really it won't be too much longer we just have coughed on you enough yet ... how do you think we got Larry Craig? ... Ok so my sense of humor is a bit whack, like crack - hail Whitney!, deal with it).
Oh, and back to this normal crap ... everyone has a personal definition of "normal." Everyone who places a personal ad and uses the world normal wants something different, they just don't know how to say what they want or are too afraid to say what they want. A suburban housewife, a wall street exec, a high school or college student, a millionaire, a celebrity, an artist, a politician or religious leader all have varying definitions of normal ... so I think we should have a big "Normal Party" where everyone gets together and brings their Normal. I think it would be a very deviant affair.
What I can't figure out is why anyone would want to date anyone normal or even describe himself or herself as normal? The dictionary defines normal as conforming to the standard or the common type; usual, not abnormal, regular and serving to establish a standard. Given the defintions of normal mentioned, I should just rest my case. But I'm going to put my size 9.5 in my mouth and keep going.
Why would anyone want to date someone who can be defined as "regular, usual, or conforming to the standard of the common type?" All that means is that when you go out on dates you're guaranteed a one-way trip to dullsville or snoozetown. Better hope they make a good vodka martini at the restaraunt you're eating at. That way when you're date is going on and on about how normal he or she is and how your parents are going to love him/her, you can look at them your glazed over eyes and they will mistake the mental daggers you're stabbing them with for complete adoration. A night at home watching McSteamy do McDreamy would be more fun than that (clearly that's the version of Grey's Anatomy that plays in my head, and we've all seen the "enter at your own risk" signs placed around my mind).
Dramatic comparison perhaps, but you get the point I hope.
Me, I prefer to date the freaks. The freaks will ensure that you are going to have a hell of a good time on your date and might even show you some things you've never seen before (get your minds out of the gutters pervs, unless of course you live there, I didn't mean it like that). The dates with the freaks are the ones that are going to stand out in your mind and make you smile when you think about them. Obviously, I'm not talking about the "individuals" who turn out to be stalkers, criminals, bad kissers, lousy lays, unwashed miscreants, and those who are generally of a bad element.
Why do we ruin perfectly fun words like "freak" or "deviant"? To deviate is not a bad thing. Everyonen deviates. A drunken or otherwise laptop computer-occupied airplane pilot might deviate from a planned flight path. The Senate or House might deviate from legislation to serve political ambition. Organized religion, in all its many forms, can be considered deviation from its earliest roots. A school teacher may deviate from a lesson plan that is out of date but still part of the cirriculum.
My point is deviants are not necessarily immoral and should not be judged so just because they are deviant; on the flipside, immorals are not always deviants stop ruining all the fun words. It wasn't that long ago GLBT individuals were thought of deviants and immoral (not really interchangeable terms, sorry). The immoral slogan comes from religious persecution of gays, so I'm not even going to go there because this entry will take days to complete. Gays were considered deviant because our way of life did not fit 'societal norms.' In some circles we are still considered deviants (P.S. Rick, Rush, really it won't be too much longer we just have coughed on you enough yet ... how do you think we got Larry Craig? ... Ok so my sense of humor is a bit whack, like crack - hail Whitney!, deal with it).
Oh, and back to this normal crap ... everyone has a personal definition of "normal." Everyone who places a personal ad and uses the world normal wants something different, they just don't know how to say what they want or are too afraid to say what they want. A suburban housewife, a wall street exec, a high school or college student, a millionaire, a celebrity, an artist, a politician or religious leader all have varying definitions of normal ... so I think we should have a big "Normal Party" where everyone gets together and brings their Normal. I think it would be a very deviant affair.
Falling In Love ... Is Hard on Reality!
So tonight I’ve been thinking about soul mates. I’ve always considered this concept rather elusive and extremely unattainable. In fact, every time I end a relationship (where I even had a glimmer of hope that person had been ‘the one’) I want to strangle the idiot who decided the word mate sounded pretty after the word soul. He’s probably descended from the same moron who popularized Valentine’s Day.
Now before you all start chasing me through the village with burning sticks like I’m some sort of nasty wildebeest, hear me out.
Relationships are hard, and not for the faint of heart. Most of them should come with a warning label. Something that reads like: Warning, relationship may prove hazardous to your health. Sure everyone falls in love, and everyone has to go through those rocky relationships, but most of us come out of them with emotional scars that would frighten small children if they were corporeal.
The first mistake I think a lot (not all, calm down people) of people make is entering into a romantic relationship so they feel complete. I’m sorry, but if you’re dating to feel complete you’ll never be complete. I firmly believe you have to learn to be happy with yourself and feel healthy emotionally as a single person before you can make someone else happy. If you can’t, not only are you going to fail at satisfying your mate long term, you’ll feel like your mate is unable to meet your needs.
Expectation is a word that also comes to mind. What are our expectations when we fall in love with someone or simply date someone? Are those expectations so high the person we’re with can’t possibly meet them? If this is you then you might find yourself alone when you’re ready to not be alone anymore. If the person you’re seeing can’t possibly make you happy because you’re never satisfied then you need to take a step back to square one and reexamine your wants and needs before you do any real harm to this poor soul trying to please you.
On the flipside of impossibly high expectations, many of us lower the bar so much we allow anyone and everyone (at least the ones who say they love us or are interested in us) to walk all over us in the name of what we think is love. He or she might always use you for money or want you to always coddle them. You might feel pressured to go out of our way to do things for them only they themselves should be doing. Three months in and your friends are refusing to spend time with you because all you do is talk about your boyfriend/girlfriend whom you allow to treat you like a doormat. These are all signs you should hop the next train back to singledom.
P.S., once you make it back to singledom and spend the appropriate amount of time deciphering what went wrong and whose fault it really was (look really hard in the mirror when you do this, you need the wake up call), enjoy being single and getting to know your single self (I love the term single self, I must give credit to Sex and the City for that term).
Back to soul mates, though, or the concept there of … if we didn’t place such a value on this, then relationships might be a bit (just a bit) easier to navigate. One would need only a small flotation device rather than the flotation device, a life jacket, and scuba gear to come out of it alive. It’s entirely preposterous to think there’s only one person in the universe that just sends shivers up and down your spine like no other, that one individual you can see yourself waking up with every day for the rest of your life. Snooze, boring, nope … I don’t think so. Before you balk and call me the Antilove, examine your life by decades (depending on how old you are) and examine the relationships you had. In your twenties you had different expectations than you do as you enter your thirties. I’m sure once I reach my forties in nine years my expectations will be different. Even as a teenager when you began your dating life you had a different set of rules. The guy or girl you fell in love with at the age of eighteen (OMG you just knew they were THE ONE!!!!) would send most of you screaming in the opposite direction now.
Our personal, intellectual, philosophical, and even financial growths affect our choice of mates as we age. As a rule we to gravitate around people we perceive as peers. With some exceptions, I believe these factors play a key role in how we pick romantic partners as well as friends. Clearly this is not a rule set in stone, however, a thirty year old woman who has never learned to manage her finances and is in debt is going to have little in common with a person her own age who is financially secure, manages money well, and has clear-cut financial goals. Money isn’t just the only factor; intellect and philosophy play huge roles. We have to be able to connect with our mates intellectually. If you just lovediscussing the meaning of life and the writings of ancient philosophers you’re going to find the girl who loves fashion and Lady Gaga a bit too fluff; likewise she is going to think you’re one supremely dull cardigan sweater with a large stick up your ass that needs to be removed.
This point leads me to my next point: rigidity. Some of us are so rigid that we refuse to compromise. Sure, some things should never be compromised, like our principles and morality. Some people perplex me, though, when it comes to choosing mates. Why should a concept like religion matter when choosing a mate? Why should financial class stand in the way? After all, the guy with loads of money might be the most financially irresponsible person in the world. Some people are so turned off by others’ personal habits – smoking for instance – they could never imagine or even allow themselves to consider the possibility and therefore potentially miss out on something great.
Wrapping it up, though, no matter how fabulous your love life is, no matter how much your mate sends you spinning into oblivion (and I love that feeling!) you can’t classify that person as your soul mate because you don’t know what condition your soul will be in ten years from now or even five years from now. Here’s another way of thinking about it: let’s say you considered the lover you had at age twenty-two to be your soul mate. They knew you inside and out and it took years to get over them when it ended. At thirty you end up with someone you love very much, who reciprocates that love, but you don’t feel the same magnetic pull you did at twenty-two. Does that make your current relationship less than the other because you don’t consider your current love a soul mate? Why cast a dark pall over a relationship that is more mature, more balanced, and hot because it doesn’t give you as much dramatic intensity?
Unless, of course, you’re a person who craves that drama in each relationship … you know you’re out there. You would be called a drama queen. I’ve been guilty of this myself. You feed off the drama and it adds to the fire. You’re typically not satisfied if everything is going well. You also need to jump overboard and swim back to the shore of your single life.
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