Are Squared

Nope, Again!

2012-01-30T09:37:00.000-05:00

You know what sucks? He's absolutely adorable. He's smart. He's interested in me.

I already know it's never going to work.

The Coin

2011-10-19T20:53:00.001-04:00

There are two sides to the coin.

Or Three?

Or More?

Though flat, and rough in spots, it spins on a table

It slips through the cracks.

It makes noise when if falls, or when it hits other change.

Other Change.

Change.

In spite of all this, the coin is round, and always, somehow, inherently perfect.

Just Friends

2011-10-01T11:29:00.001-04:00

When I said that I couldn't be friends, I didn't mean I didn't want to, I really only meant that I can't. As in, I am not emotionally capable of turning off my feelings. I'm sure it's not a typical mental process, but at least I know myself enough to recognize it and how to head it off at the pass: clean cut severance. I know they're trying hard to show that they still care, but any way around it...it's not the same. Maestro is playing dumb, or in total denial. Meanwhile, the bears can "stick together" on cold nights like last night.

This cub is going to find a new cave.

Please stop torturing me with kindness.

The Languages of Love

2011-09-12T00:17:00.000-04:00

According to Dr. Chapman, there are Five Love Languages:

1) Words of Affirmation
2) Quality Time
3) Receiving Gifts
4) Acts of Service
5) Physical Touch

It's hard for you to hear and say the words. And you're not too crazy about touching if you're not in the mood; However, when you offered to look at my car, and also changed your dinner plans for Tuesday because of my work schedule, the first thing I thought was, "I love you, too."

Just Because

2011-08-12T10:12:00.001-04:00

Location:Nantuckett Drive; Toledo, Ohio

Love. Music. Physics.

2011-08-10T12:51:00.001-04:00

I am a firm believer that the lessons we fail to learn the first time circle back around until we do learn them. Such has been the conversations of Maestro and myself lately.

I've recently learned that a lot of my love has been incredibly ego-centric.

This is a hard pill to swallow. To confess, I had previously believed that once I professed my love to someone that everything would fall into place and be "OK" as I imagined it. Sure, I knew that logically this wasn't realistic- even before- but when do any of us think with the heart and the mind simultaneously? Definitely not me.

My actions recently have been based on fear even as I haughtily proclaimed my fearlessness.

True love, even when you're hoping for an outcome, takes into account the other persons feelings first. Even if you miss them and they don't miss you. For me, removing the fear and the ego takes some control...of myself...and a healthy dash of willpower.

But I am committed to showing that I am a patient, non-threatening entity, not just to those I say I love, but to the world at large. It won't happen overnight, and I'm sure I'll have relapses, but I am so willing to try and to practice.

There's a similar rift in popular music, which may explain Maestro's disdain for some of it...I mean other than his eye rolling at the same three chords and rhythms being used and the nasally auto-tuned vocals.

Most if it are about internal feelings. About how someone will "rock somebody's world," or about how somebody is missing some one else. (Those are my favorites, bleeding heart that I am.) But even though some of the lyrics exist to woo someone else, they never take into account the other person.

Maybe instead of Stevie Wonder's "I Just Called (To Say I Love You)" a true love song would start, "I Just Called (To Ask How are you?)"

When my parents divorced, I remember thinking that I didn't really understand love, let alone how love could stop or end.

In some ways, I became a student of love; open to experiences, but quick to define them. "What Genus does this emotion belong to?"

And so I've found myself in some incredibly complex love scenarios. Ones incredibly more rich and complex than my parents ever had. And yes there are some scenarios I want more than others, but so far my "research" has led me to a conclusion that seems to permeate our existence. Like energy and matter, love doesn't really ever stop or end, but sometimes it changes its form.

On Being Still, Then Moving On

2011-08-03T21:19:00.001-04:00

I've absolutely been loving blogging while mobile. I never realized how inspirational a Starbucks could be.

It's hard to believe it's been three years in my apartment on Nantuckett. I've graduated and tried my hand at Career Counseling. Yeah, it did work out so well. Trying to find anyone else other than myself a job in this region and economy seemed to make me a glutton for punishment. Thank God for Big and National. Aside from liking the job (the hours and pay notwithstanding) I've read more books in the last year than I have during the last three years combined. Please don't tell my instructors what that nugget of information implies for all of those textbooks.

I'm ashamed to admit this, but because of becoming so busy with school and taking a series of (mostly) menial jobs, I fear, dear readers, that I may have lodged myself into a sort of rut. Part of the reason I hadn't written much was because me creativity and ability to organize my thought flow became bogged down with so much negativity. I'm working on changing this perspective.

My tolerance for my apartment changed from sheer annoyance to something that my person just finds a situation that is no longer acceptable for my existence. Three years in a one bedroom apartment with no dishwasher, no washer/dryer, no central air all while sandwiched between a crotchety old man below and a herd of elephants above has become too much to bear. I need out. Now.

I escaped it for a while, by spending so much time with Maestro and Rico, and for a time it was a real relationship. The future of this is uncertain...at least as far as I am concerned. Or is it as far as they're concerned with me. I don't know. See the problem? Chalk it up to getting involved with unavailable men; married, emotionally constipated, too numerous, or otherwise.

Either way, I keep getting the message that I need to move on...and well...move physically. There's the uncertainty of the Maestro, Rico, and R2 dynamics. There's the universe refusing to allow for substantial employment here. Hell, there's e-mails from N2 telling me I should look elsewhere. How the hell did he know? I have exhausted all of my options for the job hunt here and come up empty. Detroit and Ann Arbor have yielded similar results. If It's in-state it will probably be Columbus or Cincinnati; though Columbus would be preferred. If it's out of state, well then, who knows? Some Illinois suburb of Chicago? Pittsburgh? Philadelphia? The DC area? I have no clue. All I know is that my net is cast and I am looking to see where I go next.

It should be fun.

I guess.

Location:Starbucks Westgate- Toledo, OH

Big Love

2011-07-24T20:47:00.001-04:00

I've been increasingly interested in the concept of "Monogamy" lately. Least of all because of the the media attention. Now granted, I have watched the TV show Big Love on HBO DVD' and found the show intriguing. Boy, Bill Paxton was one tired guy...as in one episode he breathlessly explained to one of his sons that polygamy was not for everyone. The man was popping viagra like a fist-full of Jelly Belly's (The Buttered Popcorn ones!) all while his wives were battling for attention more fiercely than Sarah Palin. But while this show explored Polygamy as something eccentric, political, and in the case of "Middle Wife" Nicki, vengeful. She hates and constantly works to passively-aggressively undermine the situation, but loves Bill Paxton. Go figure.

Now comes this article (and associated series) from Salon.com. It's commentary is completely void of judgement or petty jealousies in relationships, but instead looks at what stability monogamy provides- not in the traditional family structure, but in the political and economic sense.

It's good reading.

http://www.salon.com/life/feature/2011/07/23/monogamy

Location:Talmadge Rd,Toledo,United States

2011-06-15T12:22:00.001-04:00

My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands by Chelsea Handler

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A breezy read with little plot; just a fun book to read before turning out the light.

Prelude to a Father's Day

2011-06-10T12:03:00.000-04:00

This post does not have a point; it is only a recording of recent events that seem important to me, thought I'm not sure why.

I spoke to my dad today after a very long while. I hadn't spoken to him since even before my graduation. I remember then vaguely being mad at him, but I had long since forgotten why. Meanwhile, he had knee replacement surgery and a few other medical scares that included blood clots in his lung and leg, and a collapsed lung. The conversation went something like this:

Dad: "So, you're working at Big & National?"

Me: "Yes. And this other company where I help people find jobs. I don't really like it. I'm still actively pursuing other things.

Dad: "Are you making ends meet?"

Me: "Yes."

Dad: "Are you out of debt?"

Me: "No."

Dad: "Are you paying down your debt?"

Me: "I will soon, but I'm not accruing any more debt."

Dad: "That's good."

He's doing better health wise now, and I am seeing him on Father's Day. Dad: "I'd love to see you. I know 'Beaner' would too."

Me: " Ok. I'll look forward to seeing you then. I love you."

Dad: "I love you, son."

Love comes in many different ways.

Happy

2011-05-25T21:40:00.000-04:00

K: "I just want you to be happy."

R: "I am happy."

K: "All the time?"

R: "That's ridiculous. Nobody's happy all the time."

K: "You know what I mean."

R: "Yeah. I know."

Unimaginable Peace

2011-05-10T21:30:00.000-04:00

I am currently in the midst of one of the most bizarre situations most people can think of, but...

Dear God, I love them both.

Equally.
Unconditionally.
Passionately.
Spiritually.

And through the assumptions, and the rage, and the opened discussions I have come to a sense of peace I never could have imagined in a situation like this. I am prepared for any outcome, and hopeful for a few.

Let's keep walking for a while.

Gotta Sing!

2011-03-06T21:12:00.000-05:00

I have a dirty little secret.

The reason I've been pushing so hard to find a new place to live doesn't have much to do with the noisy neighbors upstairs or the lack of laundry facilities. All valid points, but the real reason I want to move (preferably to a house with no shared walls) is because I've really really really missed singing. Alone. At the top of my lungs.

The radio in my car broke months ago. It's been dead silence. And it's killing me. My broadway records are getting dusty, like my pipes. Please send Playbills.

The Second Coming

2010-11-03T14:47:00.000-04:00

It was only a matter of time I suppose. Jesus is like that. After being struck down by a lightning bolt last spring, the Solid Rock Church in Monroe, Ohio has released a rendering of the six-story replacement.

Alec Baldwin is a Daddy Bear

2010-10-22T15:10:00.000-04:00

Sorry if Alec Baldwin or guys aren't your thing, but I had to post this. If this blog is my virtual journal, then Alec Baldwin-as-Daddy-Bear is definitely getting saved in my scrapbook. Personally, I think he sums it all up nicely.

Photo Album: A Walk in the Park

2010-10-17T17:11:00.000-04:00

Finishing my thesis has meant more free time this season. After being hunched over a computer keyboard for so long, it seems the one thing I've really been itching to do is to simply get outside. These mini-excursions have been motivated and enhanced tremendously by taking my little digital point-and-shoot along. The fall weather this year has been incredibly mild and cooperative and I'm quite impressed by some of the images I've captured. There's nothing like a breath of fresh air to stir the senses and awaken one's creativity.

Clifton Gorge Park in Yellow Springs, Ohio
was ablaze with autumn light
when I visited there last weekend.

Having just landed on the ground,
these leaves were still a vibrant red.

The forest caught the light
like a delicate Tiffany screen
lit from behind.

On a gorgeous day this week, I walked along the rocks that lead
right into the middle of the Maumee River.

Here, rock and water meet much the same way
that consciousness gives way to dreams and sleep.

A closer look reveals intricate patterns
and subtle variations in shape and color
on what first appears to be a slab of gray slate.

Reflections on an Education

2010-09-23T23:36:00.000-04:00

Here it is: The reflection portion of my thesis.

I've waited a year and a half to write this. All copyrights are mine, of course and please do not redistribute without asking first. It's just the right thing to do. :-)

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For ten years, I have done work towards earning my Bachelor of Arts degree and completing my project thesis meant the culmination of all that I have worked for. I am glad for the opportunity to reflect on my project thesis experience, and will attempt to analyze my feelings, some learning outcomes, and changed attitudes on the basis of my experiences. Because circumstances at the time did not allow me to choose a project based on my workplace, whether it be a problem-solving and intervention options like project options one or three, or a grant proposal like option two, I decided the best fit for me was a grant proposal for a worthy non-profit. Rather serendipitously, I was delighted find that a former co-worker and personal friend of mine was affiliated with Family Promise – an organization of which I had no prior knowledge. I was also happy to know that though they had an affiliation with a larger national group, they were a smaller organization locally speaking, and not necessarily the squeakiest of the non-profit wheels. So much press and money has been given to organizations like Mom’s House (which shelters single mothers with school-age children) and The Cherry Street Mission (which shelters Toledo’s homeless men.) Both of these are worthy organizations, but I have a soft spot for the underdog and was happy to learn about and help an organization that may have less of a presence in the community, but is geared toward a truly needy segment of the population.

Because I had no prior knowledge of Family Promise, it is fair to say I had limited experience working with – or even knowing – homeless people. Before undertaking this project, my perceptions of the homeless experience was limited to passing homeless men on the street in cities such as downtown Detroit, Cleveland, and here in Toledo. I also encountered homelessness during a visit to New York City. There, perhaps because it is so prevalent and the native New York pedestrians are so accustomed to seeing them, the men are much less assertive in asking for money and spend most of the day quietly wandering the streets like any other New Yorker, until they can find a corner or fold of a building where they can sleep undisturbed. Working with Family Promise helped me put a new face on the experience of homelessness; namely the exhausted and weary mom and dad, and the still-optimistic child. No one I encountered wore tattered clothing, and all of the recipients that I came to know were clean, capable, well-mannered individuals. Yet, why should they not be? Even in grasping the larger ideal of, and genuinely wanting to make a difference, helping people I, as an educated, middle-class American, was still susceptible to personal prejudices against this marginalized sect of society. Instead of the image of helpless people who lined up at the door of a church basement, silently begging for a bowl of soup, I met real people and families: children who went to school, parents who went to work, or were looking for it, all the while going through the necessary steps to find and secure housing.

Outside of fundraising, one way to help Family Promise is by donating and cooking a meal. I had the privilege of doing so twice. Both times I cooked and ate with the families and talked to them about more than just homelessness, but about life in general. It re-affirmed my faith in community and in the power of giving. The families in the program are responsible for cleaning up and washing any dishes after dinner. Everyone worked without reservation, and seemed glad to do it. More than anything, I was struck by the sheer normalcy of the situation.

The best type of education is a combination of learning experiences that take place in a book or a classroom and those in the real world. For my Project Thesis, my literature review was one of the most important elements. After acquiring this new preception of homelessness, I embarked on my literature review research. Having now met and talked with real homeless families, I saw their existence, their challenges and accomplishments, reflected in the articles that I found and read. My real-world experience lent context and understanding to a topic I might otherwise have had difficulty understanding. From this lesson, I would impart to anyone doing research, that if one is tasked with researching a subject foreign to them to find and interview a person practically versed with the subject before reading about it. It was a more manageable way to grasp unfamiliar vocabulary and concepts and the personal experience enriched my understanding and comprehension of the material. I definitely learned that no research is complete when done solely through reading.

Completing any project as large as a thesis is not without challenges. After years of training as a writer in the MLA style, I struggled with adapting to the required APA style. Whether it be citing items in-text or correctly formatting my references, it seemed I was always doing it wrong. Old habits die hard, but they do die. I learned to understand how using APA lent a specific structure and organization to my work and how it helped my audience follow along and reference items themselves. Having a the APA guide during final revisions proved invaluable, and it always helps to have several unofficial editors and readers review your drafts. I relied on honest – and sometimes brutal – feedback and questions when my readers did not follow as easily as I would have liked. Mastering APA made my work clearer and more academically sound. I knew that some of my research would not have have happened as easily if authors or databases hadn’t utilized APA, and it was my duty to respond in kind.

Additionally, any project like this should never be done in isolation. I had a wonderful support system that requested updates on the status of my work and provided me with a valuable network of people ready and willing to assist. For instance, after having encountered challenges in nailing down accurate U.S. census data, I was personally introduced to a librarian in charge of the Government Documents Repository at the Bowling Green State University Jerome Library. For an afternoon, she gave of her time and energy and showed me specialized websites I never would have been able to access on my own.

In completing my project thesis, I learned several techniques that I hope to utilize in my situations of daily work. My project thesis required that I take stock of my strengths and confront my weaknesses, both practically and academically. I had the confidence in knowing that I was competent writer, but any skill or talent that I possessed was usurped by personal weaknesses of disorganization and procrastination. I will forever struggle with procrastination, but my organizational skills have markedly improved. I learned it was nearly impossible for me to work from home, and I needed a dedicated space outside of my apartment that allowed a distraction-free environment that was all thesis all the time. Initial chapter drafts were usually composed in timed, two-hour sessions that forced me to concentrate and dedicate my focus on that singular task. In order to improve my comprehension of my research reading, I highlighted while I read, and made separate notes of any important parts I might want to incorporate into my drafts. I also learned the power of taking breaks, and I rewarded myself with positive reinforcement, such as going to a movie I wanted to see, when I reached a milestone for that day. Keeping the mind and body refreshed and motivated was a key element to moving forward and, ultimately, project completion. All of the skills that I acquired and honed in the conception and implementation of my project and the creation of this thesis will easily apply to professional work environments. As a society, we are inundated with information. Having the skills to generate ideas, do good research, ask questions, and synthesize and sift information into plans of action bearing productive results is an invaluable skill for both leaders and members of a team. Most organizations are built on structure and require leaders and team members who are able to work within parameters understood by the entire company or industry, but who also nimble enough to know when and where to adjust the system.

Completing both the project thesis and the MOD program has also contributed to a personal sense of well-being and balance. The completion of the MOD program and thesis means the culmination of ten years of schooling and crossing the finish line of a personal goal of completing my bachelor’s degree; a goal of which I never let go, but sometimes wondered if I would reach.

Through working with my cohort, I learned the value of a team. I learned ways of seeking out help and asking for advice and assistance when I needed it. I felt supported by having the same people with me on my journey. I learned to go into classes and tackle challenging subjects with an open mind. I feel that some classes were more valuable to me than others, but overall, there were many pleasant surprises. I enjoyed Biblical perspectives and came to value statistics, though it never would have been a course I would voluntarily take. Still, I am grateful for the experience and better for it.

I have pride and confidence of having completed such a monumental task. The Project Thesis was a large undertaking that required breakdown and checkpoints, that as they were ticked off the list, meant the completion of a larger whole. Though it was frustrating at times, I am glad that I was tenacious and saw the project and the MOD program through to completion.

In faith, I firmly believe that at any given moment, people are where they need to be. Though I sometimes felt that I was earning my degree six years too late, looking back I realize there were people I had yet to meet, personal challenges I had yet to acknowledge and overcome, and subjects of interest I had yet to study.

Often in life, once a lesson is learned or a project is completed, it doesn’t seem as overwhelming the next time around. I have always entertained the idea of pursuing education to at least a master’s level. Because of the MOD structure, I feel more prepared to accomplish that task. I know it will still challenge me, but now it seems less daunting and a tangible possibility. Before that though, I will savor this current victory for a short while yet.

Returning From the Dark Side of the Moon

2010-09-21T12:19:00.000-04:00

Have you wondered where I've been? Maybe not. But in case you have, I'm happy to report that I have completed all of the chapters of my thesis, including a thesis abstract. A lot of my time and energies have gone into this massive project, so that I may graduate with a Bachelor's of Arts in Business in November. There's just one more thing to write- a personal reflection essay. I look forward to posting about my experience soon.

Literature Corner: A Confederacy of Dunces

2010-09-03T10:58:00.000-04:00

I'll say it: Reading A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole wasn't always a pleasant experience for me. I was equal parts sympathetic, frustrated, and just outright incredulous at the actions of its main character, Ignatius J. Reilly. In truth, that is probably a testament to Kennedy Toole's unique voice and vision of a well-drawn character never before seen in the likes of literature. It's what Kennedy Toole doesn't say about Reilly and his thought process that becomes most frustrating and compelling. Is he just really very spoiled and sheltered? Completely out of touch? Mentally ill? It's all left up in the air like some of the best poetry, and spaces are left for the reader to bring their own meaning to the proceedings.

A Confederacy of Dunces isn't the most compelling read as far as plot development or symbolism. You're more likely to glean more meaning from Aesop's Fables, but it should be required reading to experience a unique voice and style, and just one more facet of American Literature.

The story, so detailed throughout, ends abruptly, and this reader thinks the story would've continued on or spawned a sequel, had the author not tragically ended his own life. Which begs another question, of course...how much of John Kennedy Toole lives in Ignatius?

Amy Winehouse: Tears Dry On Their Own

2010-07-11T12:22:00.002-04:00

Oh, Amy. Oh poor, poor Amy. Your talent has been surpassed only by your drugged out, drunken escapades. Yet, I still love you. I love you and all of your dysfunction the same way I love potato chips. You taste so good, even if you leave me feeling greasy and lethargic. And, like a bad hangover, it's nothing I can't cure with a cold shower, right? You've taught me so well.

Literature Corner: Revolutionary Road

2010-07-07T00:40:00.002-04:00

I recently finished reading Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates. I haven't seen the movie yet to compare, but I did write this brief review in the Visual Bookshelf Application on Facebook. I thought I would share it here as well:

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The story is timeless, but Revolutionary Road is still very much a product of it's temporal context. At the cusp of the Baby Boomers' coming of age, author Richard Yates begs that generation's ultimate question: "Am I a sellout?"

The answer, for the characters, is a resounding "Yes!," though life outside of their suburban constructs remains ever so elusive, and what alternatives they do sample seem even more confusing and artificial than the perfectly manicured lawns of their neighborhood.

The "Grass is Greener" theme has been written about before, but what Yates excels at here is deft characterization and dialog that literally rings in the reader's head. Characters and their motivations are revealed slowly, and ultimately they all bounce off of each other as if in a tragic pin ball machine.

Of particular delight is the experience of disliking and then learning to like some characters, while experiencing the opposite effect in some. Make no mistake about it- Yates' characters are flawed and imperfect, with secret motivations born out of unfulfilled pasts, which makes Revolutionary Road even more heartbreaking in its final pages.

Discipline and Talking Tough About Myself

2010-07-03T00:03:00.003-04:00

Discipline: I need it. How do I know? For starters, we'll look at the total lack of inertia of my life of late, but more importantly, how big things happen when I do take small steps forward.

First, a list of excuses:

1) I'm shy:
This one is total bullshit and quickly fading as I become older. I find lots of people don't have much to talk about with me. I've noticed more times where I've mentioned something that people haven't heard of or haven't studied, or aren't interested in. Unfortunately, I'm not well versed in reality TV or the Top Five Shows like Grey's Anatomy. Newsflash people: Meredith and McDreamy will be a happy couple by series end. Call me a God damned psychic. I've also gone on a few dates where I have been anxious, but definitely not nervous or shy. In fact, I'm pretty good at starting conversation and diffusing tension. And of course, speaking to crowds is not an issue.

Maestro has had me turn pages several times this year, a feat that involved some semblance of music reading and timing of the likes of Schumann all front-and-center and all in real-time. The sense of near nausea is invigorating (as are the rounds of celebratory Martinis afterwards), but still I keep coming back for more.

2) I'm inexperienced:
Surveying life thus far, I only half jokingly can say, "What haven't I experienced?" I've done everything from visiting some of the most beautiful places on Earth, eaten some of the best food, to cleaning and working in the trenches for some very violent and very messy special needs adults. I can give you a recipe for salmon or dodge a flying chair like nobody's business. I'm ashamed of nothing, and proud of all of the shades of the spectrum.

My apprehension at finishing my Thesis was legitimate, as I like my peers, have received some heavy constructive criticism, but each chapter I've completed makes me look at the whole thing with a sense of wonder and ease. When I sit down to it, it really isn't that hard for me to do. I psych myself out way more than I should.

So it is that I walk forward, and after not hearing my from Dr. E. on the status of a Thesis meeting, I bumped into him, and where I might have pretended not to see him, I flatly said, "Dr. E! Hi. Are we going to get together?" And just like that my fears of Chapter Five had evaporated. I suggested a survey, so he could get his requested "Data-On," but he said not to worry about that yet, that he might have some suggestions that would make it -get this- even easier to complete. I'm glad I grew a pair just then.

I interviewed with a Bookstore yesterday- another possible stop-gap job as I put the finishing touches on my degree and continue my quest for a Big Boy Job. And it hit me- it was the first interview I'd had since 2004. Except, I wasn't as nervous for it. Because I've learned I can only be me. The interviewer was either going to like me and my answers, or not, so any air of pretense I would've formally brought to the Bookstore Cafe table has been outgrown and discarded. It was the best interview I've ever had, and whether or not I get this job, I know it was preparing me for other interviews with (hopefully) Fortune 500's and Govt. Agencies. Bring it on.

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I started this post to write about discipline. It's a weak point. I'd like to say that I have been getting up at the same time every day, and have been following this wonderful, productive schedule of perfectly alloted times and energies that carry me through the tasks of my day including writing, cleaning, and maintaining personal relationships- not to mention fitness and personal health.

I am not.

I've been working out sporadically, not regularly, though happily I weigh the most thats ever been recorded for me; a not-waify-at-all 152.

Life, this week, was incredibly balanced. Just as I soared at the interview, found several other positions to apply for, and put my Thesis at bay, I hit a health wall that may be Acid Reflux Disease, Gall Stones, or both.

Regardless, both are caused by an unhealthy diet rich in fatty, fried food...and butter....lots and lots of butter. I winced when the ER doctor gave me a "bland and boring" diet. And I felt embarrassed with the knowledge that my 9:45 pm (Closing Time: 10:00 pm) visit to Five Guys Burgers the previous Friday night had probably put me over the edge. The ultra-sound tech said my Gall-Bladder was "folded over." I'm not so sure it hadn't just given up in a gurgle of exasperation.

I promise I have a point, and it is this. My positive steps have been rewarded, but my lackadaisical attitude has been put on notice. Things are out there waiting for me, but I must keep my guard up, be diligent, and watch my step. Those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. It's time I stop repeating laziness and see how the alternative works for me.

Sunflowers

2010-06-25T22:51:00.007-04:00

In April, I had purchased a little Sunflower kit for only $1.00. I dutifully re-hydrated the soil, and placed the seeds (five of them) just under the surface and watered the whole tiny thing with nothing more than a Measuring Spoon. In a few weeks I had this sitting on my bedroom windowsill:

By May, they had grown so much, that it was time to give each seedling it's own nest. Off I went to The Anderson's for a bag of Miracle Grow Potting Soil and some classic terra cotta plants. And every day I watered diligently. (This time with a watering can).

Some came early and some came later, but this week I finally had a complete row of five sunflower plants all in bloom like sentinels across my porch, welcoming Summer and all it brings.

A New Look

2010-06-16T23:34:00.002-04:00

I've wanted to change the look of the Blog for a while now, but never got around to it. Coding HTML and the like seemed too unwieldy and complicated. Recently, however, Blogger introduced a new design tool that has simplified things immensely. So, here it is! Frequent readers may notice that the color scheme hasn't changed much. I've decided to go more for an "evolution" than a drastic change - not that there weren't some radical new modern designs I wanted to try. Still, the look is clean, yet grounded. I can't think of a better representation.

The Beginning of the End

2010-06-15T17:07:00.006-04:00

Sad news to report this afternoon. You may have heard it all over the Ohio news reports already, but in case you haven't and because I've written about it before, I feel an obligation to record the event for posterity.

Touch Down Jesus is no more. It seems he was struck by lighting and burned to the ground last night. A sign of the apocalypse, or a voice of disapproval for spending $300,000 on a statue instead of feeding the poor? Believe what you will but I'll leave you with this thought:

The Lord works in mysterious ways, and...sometimes he doesn't.

Self and Society

2010-06-12T21:05:00.003-04:00

Tonight, the words I present are not my own. The Thesis Project is humming along, and in my research I came across the New Hampshire Charitable Foundation. The Foundation's President, Lew Feldstein, is retiring this year, and has written a final letter to the public. More than a farewell, it's a grand essay on Personal Values, Society, and Philanthropy. Lew Feldstein writes:

In this, my last newsletter column to all of you, I write about what this choice of profession has meant to me — and where I have let myself down.

The profession chosen by each of us has a deep impact on how we live our lives. I didn’t understand this when I took this job. Our chosen professions instill “institutional thinking.” They come with certain rules and obligations that tell us how to do what we’re supposed to do. In choosing this institutional way of life, we are not defined by what we ask of this life. We are defined by what this life asks of us.

Journalists learn to keep a certain distance from those they cover. Scientists have obligations to the community of researchers. Actors must know their lines, show up on time, hit their marks. Engineers must follow rules that guarantee safety first. Attorneys are guided by precedent.

For a quarter of a century, I have embraced and honored and been shaped by the institution of philanthropy: the values, the leaders and the literature; the customs and the dress and the ceremony and the rituals. The rewards and the honors, the disappointments, the missteps and the censures.

New generations don’t invent such institutional protocols and practices; they are passed down and evolve. So the institutionalist has a deep reverence for those who came before and built up the rules that he now stewards. As stewards, institutionalists see themselves as debtors who owe something, not creditors to whom something is owed.

As I move toward retirement, I’d have to be totally unaware and unconscious — qualities that my partner, Mary, and my kids have indeed sometimes attributed to me — to not think about the norms of this profession that I have so completely embraced. Not to mention the norms of this particular place, New Hampshire, and this singular body, the New Hampshire Charitable Foundation.

And yet even as I acknowledge being shaped by these professional rules and obligations, I hear another voice. It is, of course, this: The institutional force is often dominant in our lives, but it does not always trump the individual. Individuals must think for themselves. They can be skeptical of pre-existing arrangements. They can break free from the way they were raised, examine life from the outside, discover their own values.

Individual pressures for change must and do occasionally force the weight and traditions of the past to give way, in the end making the institution better. Atticus Finch put it clearly in To Kill a Mockingbird: “The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.”

My moments of personal growth, and those of the greatest stress and discomfort, have occurred at the tensions between these competing views: where the institutional ways and the individual values were in conflict.

As I leave this job that I love beyond description, my greatest feelings of personal failure, of not rising to the challenge, were where I surrendered to institutional inertia rather than challenging it. Where I deferred taking actions that may have offended the norms of the institution.

Where my individual sense of what was right would have required me to choose the unconventional: to ask the Foundation to weigh in more publicly and directly on behalf of those who wanted change and to go against the broader and accepted norms of our community.

I didn’t push hard enough on issues of race. Even on symbolic issues such as honoring Dr. King’s birthday, where New Hampshire was among the last states in the country to do so.

Nor on immigration reform, though virtually all of us, somewhere in our own family past, came as immigrants to this country. We have not done enough to franchise the disenfranchised.

Nor the chronic underfunding of key institutions like our community colleges, and the unfunded pension liabilities we are handing the next generation. To say nothing of our inability to overcome the suppression of any meaningful public discussion about whether New Hampshire has a structural deficit in how we pay for state services.

I don’t fault this Foundation. To the contrary, a core strength of this remarkable organization we have built together has been the wide range of views among donors, board members, partners from all regions and sectors. This place prizes challenge and has not shied away from conflict at the decision-making tables, even within a culture that works to build and maintain trust.

It is simply that I found it very hard to overcome the siren song of the practicable, the avoidance of conflict, the desire to be liked and enjoy broad public support, the discomfort in moving beyond the accumulated practices and trajectory of the past.

This is a central struggle of our lives, when our values as an individual conflict with the inherited norms of our profession. It is no answer to put all your marbles on one or the other — institutional thinking or individualism. Nor does the platitude that one must balance these two competing world views give much counsel; of course one must. The question is “how?”

Sorry. I have no sweeping conclusion here, no ring of trumpets or clarion call. I come to the end of my work here conflicted, aware of places where I have fallen short and let some of you down. And I am no more sure now than before that I have the courage to venture all at risk of losing all.

I can only say what I feel, trusting that naming and owning the choices may contribute to making us all more conscious of them in the future.

And hope that we do even better going forward.

China*

2010-06-03T21:30:00.004-04:00

The Summer storms were horrible yesterday. Some of those lightening flashes were quite frightful. I'm off my game tonight. The truth is that I have tons of stuff going on between looking for a job, finishing my Thesis, and trying to stay on top of my laundry. Ok, so the last thing's done. But still...

...and I've had this blog post I've been wanting to write. I have to unload this, so, I will not be waxing eloquent tonight and instead will really just try to write what I need to write.

I've been thinking a lot about communication. It's 2010, and there are more ways to communicate than ever before. Between E-mails, IM's, Facebook, GPS Assisted Social Networking, Texts, and- oh yeah- the telephone..maybe there's too many. Yet, I find myself and people around me communicating less. Maybe we're all just on sensory overload.

But I'm not sure that's it, exactly. You see, while technology has made it easier to get a hold of someone, it rarely creates intimacy, let alone an atmosphere of trust and safety. And let's face it, sometimes the things we need to communicate are scarier and riskier than going over your monthly allotment of texts. But, of these walls we build, what is it we're keeping out, and what is it we're keeping in? How do we climb these parapets? And who climbs first? Instead, we talk through the cracks and holes in the mortar, and the message is still obscured.

I have two incredibly metaphorical questions this evening:

1) How high is that Great Wall of China, Really?

and...

2) Can lightening ever strike the same place twice?

*See, "China" from Tori Amos' album, Little Earthquakes

Soon It's Gonna Rain

2010-05-28T18:37:00.009-04:00

For a while, Miss Saigon was one of my favorite musicals. I pissed off a lot of neighbors wailing its ballads in the shower, among them "Sun and Moon." Though it ultimately had a tragic (melodramatic) ending, Miss Saigon had 80's Neo-Musical written all over it; all the way down to that old thematic standby: idealistic and unrequited love.

I found it interesting then, that 20 years earlier, in 1960, The Fantasticks made a mark out of similar iconography about related yet dissonant themes of love- the power of disillusionment. You see, the two acts are described not as "One" and "Two" but as first "Moon" (Romance) and then "Sun." (Harsh Reality)

I had only known of the show from my brief encounter with "Soon It's Gonna Rain" which I later downloaded, and my friend Maestro had insisted that I see it as soon as I had the opportunity. He thought it incredible that I loved the song so much (or was it the association of it?) and still didn't know the rest of the story of the Fantasticks.

He warned me that there were parts that would be difficult, and there we were last Friday sitting in the Toledo Players Theater taking in their production.

Despite his warnings, it wasn't the "hard stuff" in the play that unsettled me. It was seeing my naivety and my idealism in both of the principle characters. I'd like to think it's a sign I've progressed that I can recognize and acknowledge that. I'd like to think so.

It could all be confusing at first. The set is bare-bones. The orchestrations minimal. Then, there's the character of El Gallo who constantly shifts theatrical perspectives from story-teller, to puppet master, to villain, to anti-hero, to hero- he encompasses all that the universe holds for us.

There's nothing neither so comforting or uncomfortable about the show. There's nothing really to "get" because the show already "Gets" you. Happy? Sad? In Love? Hurt? They've been there. There is always two sides to that coin: "Love" and life.

There are many nights when the moon is full and everything touched by it's reflection is bathed in an ethereal, loving glow. There are many days when the sun burns bright and everything seems touchy and challenging, "Ce'est la vie."

Soon, it's always going to rain. Ultimately, That's A-OK.

Peyton's Lullabies

2010-05-14T15:38:00.002-04:00

I sent Peyton a package this week:

Dear Peyton:

I just found out you took your first steps all by yourself. I am so proud of you! With all of your walking around, I'm sure you will be one tired little girl. I've included your very own CD of Lullabies handpicked just for you. These are some of my favorite songs. Lately when I've heard them I can't help but think of you.

1) Dreamland- Mary Chapin Carpenter

2) Little Star- Jim Brickman

3) Over the Rainbow- Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

4) Caranna- Tim Story

5) Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel)- Billy Joel

Music is one of my most favorite things. When you get bigger, we will sing so many songs together. For now, be a good girl.

And sweet dreams.

Love,

Uncle R***

P.S. ..."lullabies go on and on..."

Fin.

2010-05-11T23:43:00.002-04:00

If I've been absent from the blog for a minute, you know why. I've been busy with school.

Wow. I guess I did it. A year and a half went fast, but yesterday ended my last module for my degree. I still don't officially graduate until November, and Lord knows I have a thesis to finish in the meantime, but having my schedule and my mental energies cleared for that still seems like a major relief. And it's not like I haven't started my thesis; in fact I'm well underway.

Maybe it's me being sentimental, or me being old, hell I don't know. After completing this part of the journey, I can say that my view of time is incredibly different. I still have deadlines, but I'm not in such a rush. Partly because I feel I've learned that things of value take time, and partly because I understand how quickly the Earth really does move.

I remember this all being in the planning stages- Sitting in an apartment in New York, sitting on the floor, sitting in restaurants, sitting in my car taking phone calls, sitting in my house, sitting in my old office, sitting in my apartment.

The people I met on my first day seemed so new and foreign. Last night was bittersweet, as it all dawned on us it would be our last round of Margaritas and $1.00 Tacos after class. Of course everyone was anxious to be over and done with it all, but I don't think anyone anticipated the melancholy that pervaded the evening. We were more quiet than usual.

It's true to say that everyone I've been in class with is my friend. It's true to say that I considered quitting several times. I certainly felt I had my reasons at the time. But now, I'm glad I didn't. There's proof right there in black and white on my transcript.

I have many people to thank for their encouragement. They believed in me when often I didn't believe in myself. One thing I've learned is to start doing things with the authority and ownership I am able to command. I'm so tired of being gun-shy. Maybe it's age, maybe it's education, maybe it's experience.

I certainly would pass that advice along to Peyton, but I'm not sure she needs it. She walked all by herself on Sunday.

Looking forward, there is still a Thesis to write, a career to consider, and money I need to get for my Homeless Shelter of choice.

But for now, I'm pleased. And Francis seems happy, too.

Arts and Crafts

2010-03-10T17:14:00.004-05:00

Elbert Hubbard is kind of creepy looking when you see his portrait in the stairwell of the Roycroft Inn. When I was little, there was this stupid movie called Mr. Boogedy that showed one Sunday night on The Disney Sunday Movie. It turns out, Mr. Boogedy was a forlorn evil Puritan out for revenge (does he need a reason? He was a Puritan for heaven's sakes) against the people of Lucifer Falls, New England.

Fortunately, The Roycroft Inn in East Aurora, NY is nothing like that movie. I found myself there by surprise and the good graces of Maestro and Rico, both friends who have gradually and continually gained importance. It was my thirtieth, after all, and they pulled out all of the stops to make it special. We stayed two nights in what was originally a dormitory for Arts and Crafts and Hubbard followers. East Aurora is all about the Roycrofters, and The Inn is furnished in nothing but. The Roycroft Orb is everywhere (including the china!) and it's not hard to see shy I like it so much:

We spent the days perusing the campus, and we even went to a modern-day Roycrofter's furniture studio. He gave us a tour and showed us how he did everything handmade and showed us pictures of the furniture he had completed and sent out to the far-flung reaches of the globe. It was all beautiful and lust-worthy, and absolutely nothing I could afford. These days, you really do pay for quality craftsmanship. Thanks, China.

We spent that evening in Buffalo, where we came across rather serendipitously the first ever Buffalo WinterFest. They closed an off ramp and made it a sledding hill. There was The World's Largest Ice Maze. Go figure. And no trip to Buffalo is complete without a trip to the Anchor Bar and Grill, the original home of Buffalo Wings. I had thirty.

The next day, we toured The Darwin Martin House- one of Frank Lloyd Wright's most significant buildings. It was the first time I'd ever visited a Wright residence, and it was everything I want to be- beautiful, complex, and simple all at the same time.

So, it was an arty weekend, but hey, I'm an arty guy. I never dreamed I would be at all of those places in the same weekend after learning about them all of these years in my various architecture and art history classes. It seemed appropriate that I, a child of the mid-west, would visit the seat of midwestern art and culture on my birthday.

I'm Thirty Years Old. And no, there are still no such thing as coincidences.

Accidentally Cool

2010-01-18T20:18:00.007-05:00

When I decided to grow a beard this winter, it was borne out of a few things:

I was starting to feel older.
I wanted a change.
But mostly, I was just feeling lazy and tired of shaving.

And now, what's this I see? Pop Candy has written about the plethora of beards on display at The Golden Globes. Check it out here. Jon Hamm is one hot bearded daddy. Apparently, beards are really in this year. Who knew?

If Only In My Dreams

2009-12-25T01:05:00.003-05:00

Joyeux Noel, intrepid Internet-ers.

I'll be home for Christmas and well, you know how the rest goes...

Advent

2009-12-07T23:47:00.003-05:00

I like to believe that this is true. Here, Dawna Markova relates in her book, Spot of Grace, the story that begins it all.

My grandmother began to stroke my forehead very slowly, the signal that a story was on its way. Her stories always made a silken tent for the two of us to crawl into.

"Imagine, my darling, that back in the very beginning of everything, there was an immense crystal bowl floating in the dark velvet sky. Imagine it was glowing because it was made of light."

I held my breath until she continued.

"We don’t know how the bowl got there or how long it stayed. But we do know that one day there was a cracking, crashing sound that was almost as big as the sky. The bowl shattered into a million, billion, trillion different seeds of light. They flew everywhere, piercing everything alive in the world. From that moment on, each living being has had, hidden in its heart, one of those tiny seeds of light."

She bent over and looked right into me with her Coca-Cola brown eyes. She whispered as if she were telling me great secrets.

"One such seed is inside of you, and one is inside of me. I call it the spot of grace. Every one of us, whether we know it or not, is supposed to find that special light. Then we are meant to grow it and shine it into the darkness of the world, helping others find their light. When everyone does, you see, the bowl will be made whole again."

---

"Driven by the force of love, the fragments of the world seek each other that the world may come into being."---Pierre Teilhard De Chardin, The Phenomenon of Man

Throwdown Thursday: Last Christmas

2009-12-03T13:14:00.003-05:00

...And just like that it's Christmas time. Those who know me know it's my favorite time of year. Yet last year was so devoid of joy, it was almost sacrilegious. And when I look back on it now I'm almost embarrassed. There were no decorations, no gifts, no life. I did (or rather didn't do anything) everything but shave my eyebrows in mourning. Pathetic.

Ahh, but this year....I still will have no tree, but my lighted wreath will look nice on my wall. I think The Wisemen will look awesome on top of the microwave.

I am the poorest I've ever been at the holidays. Surprisingly, I'm not all that bummed about it. In fact, I'm still thinking of creative ways to give; not just with Peyton, but with everyone whose life I touch. In what ways can I exude joy and warmth, and carry forth The Light?

I am in love with the show Glee. They've released this cover, and it was so approriate, that I couldn't resist posting it. Ding Dong Merrily on High! The Christmas Bells will soon be ringing, until then, we shall rock out to cover songs originally made famous by Wham!.

Through The (November) Rain/The Architect's Dream

2009-11-13T21:17:00.000-05:00

Even on those nicer Friday nights at the Art Museum where the live entertainment is perched just above Hector Guimard's entrance to Le Métropolitan and I sit on the sidewalk sipping my martini there is always one place inside the museum I always go.

Thomas Cole's The Architect's Dream hangs in one of the front galleries a little off the beaten path. It's almost always quiet in this wing and one can get some real quality time with the bright oil painting. The first time I saw it, I was taken aback at it's sheer size and audacious artistry. There's the seemingly disparaging styles and motifs all on display behind a red velvet curtain, and yet somehow, through the Architect's vision it all comes together. He creates it all.

Autumn snuck up on me. Finishing up the summer with Statistics and then Business Finance back to back definitely did not play to my strengths and sapped my energies tenfold. My friends remarked that I was the most stressed they had ever seen me. I was spent in all aspects. And there was the Thesis, and the Shelter overhead, always overhead.

But November brought with it relief in the form of Biblical Perspectives. Finally something to TALK about! And I scored some major time with the Director of Family Promise, who in turn, gave me more than a running start on fleshing out my chapters, and even gave me a grant she had written.

Maestro pointed me to some great possibilities for funding...and things come together. I wish I had a moral to this post. I don't. This is probably going to come out as a backlog of emotion I had reserved while my logical brain took over with calculator in hand. There is one, I guess...Anybody who says they got anywhere alone is full of shit. Given that, conscious choices must be made with who we associate with, because the world really is a community, but whether that community is positive or negative depends on the collective will of its inhabitants.

The arrival of November, ironically, feels like Spring for me. At 192 days left, the countdown is ticking ever closer to a future without school. Aside from what requirements I have left to fulfill, my mind drifts to visions of the future. Toledo, I'm afraid, is looking less and less like it. I had a rare break of two consecutive days, and travelled to Columbus. It's a major candidate. Some newer apartments in Sylvania I've looked at have a counterpart there. What's more the rent is cheaper down there. Now, I just need to find a job...

There's lot's to pull together. Each day has been a challenge. But somehow, everything disparaging will become united, into a unique, and beautiful whole. Somehow.

One Hundred Down

2009-09-01T17:11:00.004-04:00

Remember this post? That was 100 days ago. Thesis Presentation? Done. Only nine months and six classes to go. Here's the evidence:

Where's the Beef?

2009-08-31T15:24:00.004-04:00

Did I mention I was an English major once?

I've finally gotten around to tackling my thesis some more. The first step requires my re-working of the first chapter and making adjustments per my adviser's comments. Re-reading this I've had more "D'Oh!" moments than Homer Simpson finding himself without a doughnut. It ain't pretty, pretty folks.

"Don't use contractions in research writing."
"You need a space before the dash."
"This shouldn't be capitalized."
"Don't use a personal pronoun to identify a non-personal entity."
"You have kind of a mess here with punctuation problems and problems with parallel structure in the sentence."
"You probably don't need quotation marks here, since the title of the program in capitals is sufficient to identify it."
"You should probably just have this portion be a sentence by itself.
"Spelling error."
"Bad sentence structure here. This is not an academic writing style."
"Greater."
"Just zero in on the specific ways in which ___________ will benefit if funds are obtained."
"Don't use italics like this."
"the"
"Cycles don't jump - they continue."
"You need to beef up the writing in terms of style as well as content."

Looks like I have my work cut out for me.

Throwdown Thursday

2009-08-27T21:17:00.003-04:00

Somewhere deep deep down inside lies a pop diva just waiting to bust out in song and laser effect jazz hands. Here's my new favorite download. Power up your vocoder and hit the floor with some crunches. Jay Sean demands both. He's going "Down."

All Eyes On Me

2009-08-25T21:46:00.003-04:00

Lately, it seems I've been surrounded by conflict. In a novel turn of events, absolutely none of it is mine, but that damn empathy thing has made me a lightening rod for everyone else's. Family members, friends, co-workers, and even some of my fellow students have all turned out to tell me their sob stories and their frustrations. For someone like me who is always seeking balance this is discomforting. When things seem to be going well for me, it seems everything else falls apart.

I remember writing jokingly last year of encountering a woman who I wondered was so familiar with dysfunction. I'm growing wary of being familiar with dysfunction, too. You see, when I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself, I also stopped feeling sorry for others also. As I write this, it's coming across way harsher than I feel, but perhaps these are the limitations of the blogging media, combined with the limitations of my writing ability.

My sister's "dream family" (her words- not mine) is a source of major drama, as she grapples with the ramifications and consequences of her recent decisions- consequences that were completely unforeseen to her, but not entirely surprising. I won't write much, because it's not my story to tell, and I don't feel completely comfortable spilling said "dirt" but I will tell of my experience of it. I am absolutely at a loss as to how to help her. It's tricky ground, because I feel like she's asking my advice without actually asking for my advice. After all, I'm the little brother! This has proven to be an exercise in patience and restraint; a delicate dance of words with a pirouette there, and a charge and a feint here. She's not talking to my mom, because she can't admit that she's "wrong" to her. This could be one of the most critical moments for her, and one of the most important things that I do for all of our futures.

You see, I am one of the few people I know that views my life; past, present, future as a continuity. In fact, I'm fascinated by it.

B-Dog from work has been in a funk for months, and I've pretty much just given him the space to get through it. I've called him here and there, but nothing seems to have changed. I have resigned myself to the fact that he is feeling sorry for himself, and I don't want to absorb anymore negativity than I have to. Sorry, Dude. Got things to do.

Then, RB is just continually frustrated with our workload at SAU. I suspect, no I know that he has a lot of other stresses and things going on, so I have tried to be proactive with him. Tonight, I suggested we do our homework ASAP so we aren't calling each other hours before class the following Monday repeating our usual intercourse:

"Got your homework done yet?"

"Nope."

"Me either."

"Awesome. See you at six."

This seemed to help both of us. I got some motivation, and he hopefully is a little less stressed.

---

Because of all of this swirling about, or maybe in response to it, I find myself thinking more than ever about my plans for the future. The first order of business for me is to put up my reinforcements to avoid any types of this dysfunction in the future. By fitting all of my square pegs in their prospective round holes, I create a safe space, and make myself rock-solid for those around me, for I feel that this is one of the truest dynamics that is emerging. Quiet Leadership: it's happening.

So, I've been creating in my head a list of all things great and small I want my life post-grad to be. These are the itty bitty lifestyle things, and the great big dreamscapes, and the things I want to leave behind...

...already this post is too long. The list is coming.

Good Fences

2009-08-21T22:16:00.003-04:00

I'm pretty sure that the old man downstairs hates me. I can't see why. Well, OK, I can see why. It's sad, really. First, he has no musical sense whatsoever. The times that I've tried to educate him on the finer points of Broadway by singing LaVie Boheme at the top of my lungs at three in the morning have all been met with resistance in the form of a loud thud of -and I'm just guessing here- a broomstick hitting his ceiling/my floor.

Also, he's gotta be jealous of my sex life too. I'm not exactly quiet.

So, when Kyle and Holly asked me to watch this little guy, I happily obliged.

For a whole day. A whole day before my landlord came right to my door and asked me to get rid of poor little Fudgie. "Where was he to go?" I asked.

"I don't care. We're not a pet hotel," she replied. Hmmm...Perhaps there's a Kennel behind the Hooters restaurant you used to work at 15 years ago?

So I dumped poor Fudge off at Bruce's until K+H returned from their adventures in New York.

So, back to the neighbor: I've never actually seen him. For all I know his son has a special fixation on taxidermy. But I'm just guessing.

Self, Actually

2009-07-14T22:02:00.005-04:00

I've been away from Blogger for a while. Mainly, it's because I've been busy doing the things that I'm about to write about. Summer has flown by and I find myself nearing the end of August feeling like a completely different person.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the many roles I play. I'm not talking about insincere fronts that I put on to impress people or gain some advantage. No, rather, I am more aware of my "roles" not as an active thing that I do, but rather a passive receptiveness to the ways that others need me. I've been reading The Te of Piglet and the author, Benjamin Hoff, would describe this as "effortless action." Works for me.

As I grow more comfortable in my job, I have learned just how valuable I am in my relationships with people. In the most unpretentious and sincere way possible I'd like to say: I add a lot of value. I'm not sure I ever thought about value before...I was too busy just existing.

The summer has been busy. I have had some fun times with my Spring Arbor cohorts both in and out of the classroom, made a few trips to Cincinnati to see Shelley, and done a few other social events- some with old friends and some with new. The idea of meeting new people and connecting with them was a scary thing for this documented introvert. It no longer is anymore.

I'm proud of myself, but not in the way that you might think. I'm proud that I have a clear mission and know what I want to contribute. I'm proud that I feel capable of fulfilling that personal mission.

It's no news to loyal readers that I love the water- the ocean in particular. So it was, that I ventured once again to Kure Beach, NC with my family that keeps growing by the minute. With all of the new family dynamics, it was unlike anything before. I may be re-thinking my vacation plans for the coming years. Perhaps in the future, family time for me will happen in more frequent but less intense bursts. Sometimes, I feel like John is using all of us for research. It's like a really bad episode of Big Brother, but with kids. But there I go again, learning something. Could it be a flash of independence resides in me after all? That their are larger things at stake than my family's approval and subsequent compliance to their whims? Why yes, I know so. And what's really cool, is that I can orchestrate all of this in the most understanding and respectful way possible. Because I'm me.

This quote from John F. Kennedy seems appropriate:" All of us have in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and, therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea -- whether it is to sail or to watch it -- we are going back from whence we came."

Growth? Returning to The Source? To me, it feels like Self Actualization. And it feels really good.

Family Album: July 4, 2009

2009-07-05T22:23:00.006-04:00

At the last minute, I decided to drive down to Cincinnati to spend what time of the Independence Day Weekend I could with my sister and her family. A rarity for me, I felt organized and actually left my apartment at my prescribed time of 5:00. Super-cool. The trek down 75 is a cinch, and it seems I just blow by every town along the way until I get off at the exit right after Touch Down Jesus. It helps that Shelley is actually in a suburb a little north of Cinci; the drive is that much shorter. An hour after I arrived, we left for a festival in Mason, Ohio. Huey Lewis and the News headlined a free concert for an audience easily numbering in the thousands. We found a patch of lawn and camped out to the sounds of Power of Love and Hip to Be Square. Note to self: Why do I always leave the Zippo at home? The fireworks started after dark, and I was tickled to be able to play with some of the settings on my newish camera. Low-light and Fireworks settings. Pretty impressive shots to me, if I could keep my hands a little steadier.

Peyton was mesmerized by the fireworks, which we welcomed, since we were a little concerned about what her reaction might be. Her first 4th, and she's already an American Girl.

We drove there in Shelley and George's new minivan; a Honda Odyssey. When I first heard about it I had a few laughs at the thought of a former sorority girl trading in her sporty SUV for a grocery-getter, but now all I can say is, "Don't knock it 'til you tried it." The thing is PLUSH with more bells and whistles on it than the freakin' Starship Enterprise. First of all, like every single moving part on the damn thing is remote freakin' controlled. Doors? Windows? Liftgate? Personalized Driver Seating Position? Check. Check. Check, and Check. Yes, I know it's a minivan, but it was enough to make me green with gadget envy and want to pull an Angelina Jolie and adopt 50 kids just so I would have an excuse to buy one.

I spent the night, and hung out during the day with Shelley. A few of her friends came over around 5:00 and we grilled chicken and veggies. I made rice pilaf. I had to leave around 9:00p, knowing that I had to work the next morning, but all in all it was worth it and I was glad I went down. How else would I get pictures like this?

The Sweater Song

2009-07-01T21:42:00.001-04:00

With a tip of the hat to Robert Burns, absolutely nothing went as planned yesterday. From work to after work, the day rapidly unspooled- a single thread caught and snagged until there was no garment left. My emotions were naked, too. What I thought would be a simple day was anything but, from the impromptu carpet installation (time to move the furniture!) to the impromptu hospital visit. The Doctor wanted to know what medicines a certain someone was on. I had them written down, they're just not all on the top of my head or the tip of my tongue. Doctor frowned. I felt stupid. I really hate feeling stupid.

Post-Work plans were obliterated, as, one-by-one my friends and contacts dropped like flies. Even my sister didn't return my calls. I know she's busy, but it was just bad timing for me. Then, I decided to feel sorry for myself. Brilliant, Ragu. Just brilliant. Around 10:00p, it clicked. Hey wait a minute! Who died and made me the victim? Haven't I been working on this shit for like a year?

Strange, that even in those periods when we feel the strongest we've felt in ages, much like what I am experiencing now, there are still those moments of weakness. Damn it. Think I hate feeling stupid? I hate feeling weak even more. But I consider this: if a caretaker I am, it stands to reason that in order to truly empathize and understand how other's feel, I also cannot negate my own feelings and emotions. I'm not sure why I was as raw as I was feeling. I do feel truly grateful for who I am and what I have, but no, I'm not looking forward to this holiday and it's more recent historical implications.

The good news is, when I catch myself, I absolutely refuse to feel sorry for myself. It's catching myself that still proves tricky. Self-Pity is a sneaky little bastard. But then I remembered my new roles, my new purposes, and I did some pro-active things...like a little bit of school work to regain my balance. I snipped at a few of the other dangling participles in my emotional life as well. The labyrinth said to go forward into the world. And of those things we needed to figure out? I've made up my mind that they are, indeed, solved.

P.S. For further explanation to the title of this post, click here.

Once More to the Labyrinth

2009-06-25T22:13:00.001-04:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about patterns. It started intellectually enough. For my birthday, a friend of mine had given me the small book by Stephen C. Lundin, Cats: The Nine Lives of Innovation- Companies Don't Innovate- People Do. In a nutshell, it's all about how to stimulate, organize, and express creativity and new ideas at work. It's a new take on the whole think outside the box phenomenon. Now, months later, I've finally gotten around to reading it, and while most of it are thing's I've heard before, I was struck by this passage by the author:

---

During those IMS years, I was also actively involved in teaching MBA students. Being someone who is always looking for ways to use what is happening in one part of my life in another part of my life, IMS provided a way to enhance my lectures as a business school teacher, so I attended all the lectures and took extensive notes, in Mind Map form, of course. The years passed, and my Mind Maps became quite extensive, but with each new lecture on change, I added fewer and fewer branches.
Then something interesting happened. The body of knowledge began to shrink. It began to move from complex to simple. Branches were merged, and core themes became more obvious. Once I found the simplicity inside the complexity of one subject, I began looking for it in all that I did. My knowledge files became elegant and more available. I now believe this can happen in any field when you reach the level of mastery.

---

The notion came to me that this was indeed what was happening everyday in all aspects of life. And certainly, it's something to aspire to. But how does it happen? Therein lies my conjecture. It happens through habit, repetition, and patterns. One thing I've come to know is that people don't change. In reality this is so freeing, especially when you realize this about yourself. Everything that was me before is me after- the good, the bad, and the so-so. If what Lundin says is true, then maybe it's those patterns that contribute to the circling around and through of the universe...the phenomenon of the lessons we need to learn circling back to us. But if people don't change, then where and what is the journey? It's not about change, it's about fulfilling purpose.

I haven't changed, but through my experiences, the dormant aspects of me have become powered up and amplified out of necessity, out of demand. And the unsavory ones, yeah they're still there too. I procrastinate as much as ever, and my predilction for dick hasn't gone anywhere either. But they're part of me. If you take something away, you take something else away with it, too. The journey isn't about making every aspect of a person positive, it's about equanimity, balance, and nature. If 2007-2008 was about discovering my strengths, 2009 has shown me what to do with them. And already....something complex has cycled back and become simple again. And the universe will demand from you ultimately what it needs from you. If not now, then later. But it will always call to you, and beg of you to listen.

And it did

For three years, the labyrinth called. Yesterday, I answered.

There was one at the church, but Maestro had something different in mind, so 40 minutes NE of Toledo I found it on a hillside amongst the pines. It was quiet, and still, except for the rain. It had been sunny and hot in T-Town, but here the clouds rolled in. At the entrance to the center, it was a downpour. He explained the process and left me to the woods. I almost changed my mind, soaking wet, grass and mud squishing between my sandaled toes. Yet I couldn't have been closer, and I believed that everything had a purpose. I walked silent and drenched, but I didn't dare wipe my dripping face. This wasn't about vanity.

At the center, the rain stopped, and the test of faith evaporated into the cool breaths of a baptism. At the center, God remained both present and mysterious. Isn't that his way? But this I know; There are so many good things ahead, "And some things," he said, "I'll have to figure out for myself." Fair enough. But I know that the labyrinth I walk everyday is the right one.

Walking back to the car, I turned to look once more: "Wherever you are, so shall I be."

And as I walk forward the branches will indeed continue to be merged, and all of those things that seemed at once so complex will become something beautiful in their simplicity.

Poetry Corner: Ranier Maria Rilke

2009-06-18T18:14:00.004-04:00

Ranier Maria Rilke is so my NOW. What would happen if the world were covered with Roses?

Wild Rosebush

How it stands there against the darkening
evening rain, young and pure;
its arched branches pouring out in giving
and yet deeply immersed in its rose-being.

the shallow blossoms, here and there already open,
each one unwilled and uncared for:
and so, each endlessly surpassed
and indescribably excited by itself,

calling to the wanderer, who in evening
reflection passes down the way:
Oh look at me, look here, see how safe

And unprotected I am, having only what I need.

The Best of Us: CM

2009-06-06T23:18:00.002-04:00

CM passed on a Friday- yesterday in fact. He was 56.

It had been a week since I last saw him. He had deteriorated quickly and I nearly lost it when I saw him the Wednesday before, head wrapped in gauze like the Ghost of Marley, sitting in his own feces. His eyes were far away. I knew they were only giving showers on certain days, but this was unacceptable. I was neither gentle nor kind to the nurses and aides that day. I may have threatened... but they changed him. Quickly. I've reached that point of age (and coupled with the experiences of the past year) where nothing really fazes me anymore. I'm no longer afraid. There are those times where I've felt pieces of my soul dry up and flake off. Now I call it growth.

There were times I envied him for his simple view of the world. If only I could shut my goddamned brain off. He was free of the complexities and the bullshit of life. He knew nothing of success and failure, of jealousy, of disappointment. He didn't get hung up on minor bullshit. He only wanted one thing: to be loved and cared for. And in his eyes, you either did or you didn't.

He knew nothing of Bruce and Big, of my old life, my old house, my old dreams. He didn't know about what I had and what I had lost. He didn't know I had no idea what I was doing most of the time...that I didn't see a future, but was merely walking forward because I had to. But he helped me figure it out. He pulled me into the present. There was no alternative. And on those days when I went in feeling most miserable and rejected, he shook with excitement at my arrival. Almost instinctively he could read me. "Sing a song, Brian" (That's what he called me.) And he would always request "Let it Be" and we sat there and sang of Mother Mary and Times of Trouble. At night, before bed he would say, "Let it Be, Brian. Let it Be." I couldn't be sad. I had work to do. And that would've been enough.

But then he was sick, and there was the system and the money, and the ....argh! All of it! And because of him and for him I learned about alliances and trust, how to find information, and what to do with it. And what it might mean for my future. Because of him I realized the greatest motivation I've ever been aware of. I take care of people.

So when my classmate, RB, asks me when I'm going to start a business, I smile and say, "You know, I've got this great idea, and it's not a product....it's all about people."

I went to see him Friday. It had been a busy day. I worked out, got a haircut, and by the time I was out there, I walked down the hallway to an empty room. He had passed in the morning. I wasn't sad- relieved actually. His passing was one prayer that God had answered for me lately. He's free now, I hope, of everything that bound him, everything that limited his expression, everything that kept people on guard, everything that caused him pain.

I had already scored tickets to a ballet concert for that evening. Second row was tough to beat. I sat there, and thought about the passing and transferrence of energy, was his lifeforce somewhere in the vibrations of the strings? Was it somewhere in me? Surely I could feel the bass notes through my feet. He was there- heck everyone I've ever loved was there. And for a minute, it wasn't Copland's "Applachian Spring" I was listening to it was McCartney's, "Let It Be."

I wept for joy.

Three Hundred Sixty-Five

2009-05-24T07:17:00.002-04:00

Everyday, I see this counter on my start page. It tells me one thing and one thing only- the distance between now and May 24, 2010: Graduation day.

Size Queen

2009-05-23T00:07:00.004-04:00

This arrived today:

It's my new Mac Mini, which I've paired with an HP 19" widescreen LCD and Apple's newer slim keyboard design. My old iBook G4, which I can't believe I've had since 2004 had a 30 Gig Hard Drive that was maxed out. It told me every time I booted it up that it was full. And everything on it (including all of my music) were important files that I needed to keep. What to do? The new MacBooks were way out of my price range, so I decided on the mini at the moment. It updates my system terrifically, and I can easily (and cheaply) upgrade again in the future when I need to. In the meantime, After transferring all of my iBook data to the mini, I can re-format the iBook, and reboot it from scratch and add only the essentials. The Mini will now be my "hub" but the iBook will still be my "travel" computer for the library and those Mid-Week Study sessions. Clearing the iBook drive of everything but what I'm working on should help speed it up good as new.

It took me fifteen minutes to get the Mini up and running. It found my Wi-Fi instantly, and even paired with my old Bluetooth Wireless Mouse without me having to do a thing. It doesn't get any simpler than that. Price of Mac Happiness? A student discount at $549.00

Greek To Me

2009-05-18T23:21:00.002-04:00

Ah, Mondays. Class night. We had our first exam in Economics tonight (the current bane of my existence). It's encouraging to know that most of my classmates found the exam as baffling as I. And all is well with the universe. Jedidiah, as I like to call him; he of the white button down shirt (collar, too!) and black dress pants every week has us all terminally confused. All of his graphs and charts seem to say one thing: supply is directly related to demand and vice versa. Got it.

I've checked in with a few friends who are in Seminary and they write that they are studying Greek, polity, and well, more Greek. I'm not so sure they've gotten the raw end of the deal. May is my One Year Mark to completion.

Lord, See me through. I'll even say it in Greek.

It Only Hurts When I Breathe

2009-05-06T22:25:00.002-04:00

I don't remember hearing a crack when my sternum hit the side of the tub. Actually, I didn't really hear anything as the air was forced out of my lungs. For a moment, the bathroom was a sealed chamber with negative pressure, and it needed to equalize. That's what happens when forces akin to a lead pipe being smashed across your chest are enacted on your body. Not that I ever wondered. I lay there for a few minutes, mentally running a systems check. I was Robocop rebooting for the first time, lines of code streaming past my retinas, checking for vitals and memory- short-term or otherwise, And yes, I know that my ribs are not directly attached to my brain, but try telling them that.

I consulted Kacey. Since my back still hurt too, she said to put heat on my back and cold on my chest. I'll get right on that. Maybe I'll place an ad on Craiglist and answer the door with a curling iron and a bag of frozen peas and tell him, " Here. Get to work." Maybe I'll find a nice Med student from Boston. A week later, it still hurts. Maybe somethings broken. Maybe not. I'll never know.

But Physical Pain isn't any different than any other pain. And my elation at completing (and passing!) accounting was short lived when I realized Chapter 1 of my Project Thesis was due. So, battered, bruised, I did what I've been doing...what I need to do. It's done, and now, I'm going to bed. Maybe when I wake up tomorrow I won't feel 80.

WKRP

2009-04-26T22:51:00.003-04:00

In a turn of events that was equal parts lucky and miraculous, I had two consecutive days off. I took the opportunity to finally make the trip down to Cincinnati, a journey that only took me 2.5 hours down 75- much quicker than I thought. All seems well down there. Shelley has taken to motherhood well, and I am uncle to not just baby Peyton but a few steps, too, whom I met for the first time. Gavin is a charming two-year old, and Sutton is...a nine year old girl. Things ran smoothly, but the four-bedroom house is- not surprisingly- kid centered. Three kids? It's a lot. And at any given time, somebody wants something. Adult interaction is at a premium.

Though they were supremely annoying at the time, I forgave the temper tantrums. Those kids have had a lot to get used to. I know. I used to live with Shelley. And a new baby is a challenge, besides. Still I was frustrated that the house never seemed quiet. And I felt it unfair to Peyton that she was at the mercy of the moods of her older siblings.

The house is in a development in a community north of Cinci called Liberty, OH. Rolling hills and winding roads define country. I passed goats, horses, and cattle within a mile of their home. It's an up and coming community with newer schools, and a new YMCA. Nice.

I drove down Thursday night. Friday, Sutton went to school, and Gavin to day care. Shelley took me to a Gap Distribution Warehouse store actually in Northern Kentucky where I found a steal on a bunch of new clothes. That was fun. I'm still not used to my sister's longer bathroom breaks and it takes me a minute for it to register when she comes out and says, "She was hungry!" Oh. Right.

Saturday, the Fam went to a park with a giant play ground and had a picnic. It was a nice time, but options are definitely limited with three kids. I drove back late Saturday night to work this morning. It was a little rough.

I'm not sure how I feel about being an uncle. Things could roll over me easily with Bruce's nieces and nephews, and even Jonathon and Jeffrey's kids. Is blood really that much thicker than water? I know there's a part of me that has always been protective of Shelley, and I guess, consequently, Peyton, now too. It's always hard to leave a smiling baby. She squealed when I blew raspberries on her tummy. Classic.

It also put things with regards to ME in perspective. After living on my own for this time, I've been doing a lot more thinking about...well...ME...and what I want to do, and what I want to accomplish. None of them involve kids. There are many things on the list, and screw time...energy is my biggest foe. But still, I have things I'm working towards...not just school, but the larger picture too. I am clearer about what I can and cannot endure. I am clearer about what I will and won't accept. I am clear about what people need from me, and what I have to give.

And right now, "Uncle" suits me just fine.

The Day Off

2009-04-16T23:19:00.004-04:00

11:20p finds me sitting up in bed with a sore lower back. I'm not really sure why, given that yesterday was my day off, and today wasn't too strenuous. I'm not too worried about it since I will treat it the way I treat all of my other minor health problems- by ignoring it. It will be fine in a couple of days. Yes, we'll chalk another one up to positive self-talk.

Wednesday: Since I never seem to do anything on time, I decided that April 15th was the best day for me to renew my license and registration- 15 days after it was due. This was balanced out by the fact that Turbo Tax had indeed transported my W2's with Warp Speed to the IRS weeks earlier. At least that was done. What does the government want from me, anyway? It was weird that I had to get a new license this year. Gone is the T-shirt; this new pic shows 29 year old me in a shirt and jacket. I left my glasses on for the first time ever (since they're on most of the time anyway), and my goatee is ever present. I had shaved it off for my birthday much to the horror of everyone around me, and quickly grew it back. I'm worried that I'm starting to look like Les Moore.

---

I did some digging, persuading, and the like, (And maybe bent some rules) and found CM. He couldn't be in a dumpier place in Toledo. They are not treating the tumor that is fucking seeping out of his face and I am angry at a system that seems bloated, convoluted, and outright negligent. He wants to go home badly, and all I could say was, "When your face gets better." Sometimes I hate that I can be a good liar.

He's fading fast, I can tell. He was excited to see me, and kept me in a separate room for longer than usual while he smoked his stogie. He's missed the one on one attention. When we went back to his room, he was immediately tired and asked to lay down. He's more unsteady than ever. I put him in bed. Per usual, he asked me to stay and I explained, "R2's a busy guy....has lot's of work to do, but I'll be back another day..wait and see." He understood. I will visit him once a week. It won't be long. If what's on his face has grown so exponentially in just a matter of weeks, it stands to reason that what is everywhere else has spread too. He said his stomach hurt. I winced.

---

It's true. The best sushi in town IS at The Fresh Market. I picked up some Salmon-Philly Rolls for dinner. I was amused that the cashier had chop sticks on hand to give me when I checked out. What do they give you if you buy Eggplant?

Score!

2009-04-12T22:30:00.000-04:00

Jesus: 1, The Other Guys: 0.

This statue, affectionately called "Touchdown Jesus" can be found just outside of Cincinnati, or so Shelley tells me. Alas, I was working over the weekend, so I will have to save this religious experience for another time. I didn't quite believe that something like this existed, but the Easter Holiday brought it to the forefront, and here it is...

The Other Sixth Sense

2009-04-07T21:20:00.004-04:00

As I progress through my program at Spring Arbor, I'm finding one of the most valuable lessons I'm continually learning isn't being taught in the classroom or through the curriculum. It's through some of my cohort members.

I have to be honest, I've always been somewhat of a loner. Oftentimes, I find group work to be frustrating... it always seemed that there was too much time spent deliberating, arguing, and jockeying for position, and not enough time just "doing the work" that I could've done that much faster by myself. As I've gotten older, and perhaps as I've grown into knowing what I like to and am able to contribute and what parts I'd prefer to leave to others, group work has been less tedious for me. This new aspect, if you will, has become more apparent during my progress through Spring Arbor.

Getting to know people that I don't work with that I don't see (and get sick of) everyday , and whom I know through a different but still professional context has shown me a lot. In particular is my buddy RB (go figure). I am constantly amazed at his business acumen. He considers things I never have thought of, and with all the confidence I have of my intelligence, his way of thinking is sometimes opposite of mine, and what he comes up with that I have little knowledge and experience of or have missed completely makes me feel inadequate. I don't mind this, because it means one more personal challenge I must meet. And I respect him that much more.

We've started work on our final project thesis. The first step was writing the proposal, and submitting it for approval. Later that night, we talked about our approved projects and what the next steps were. I have maintained that I could never "just sell 'Widgets'"; that the work I do must in some way be service oriented and benefit others. In such, I have decided to write a grant for a non-profit group in Toledo that provides assistance to homeless families. Immediately, RB said,

"Why didn't you look into writing grants for start ups? There's a lot of entrepreneurs that would pay for that kind of service, myself included."

I explained my "No Widgets" motto, and he conceded. But the thing is, he may be just more practical than me. I mean, I have to eat too, right?

Conversely, my special gifts have not gone unnoticed, thankfully. We joke that RB cares about the Bottom Line and R2 wants to know "How does the Bottom Line make you feel?"

I guess the point I'm trying to make is that I could probably work on striking a better balance between thinking and feeling and practicality and action. I'm beginning to suspect it's at that intersection where success- and ultimately the power to do good works- is alive and waiting for me. That lesson wasn't written in a textbook.

Okay, I Was Wrong.

2009-04-06T16:59:00.002-04:00

The snow came April 6th. Sweater, anyone?

Could It Be...

2009-02-25T23:11:00.002-05:00

...that spring is here? Or is that just wishful thinking on my part? Here's what was great about today:

Temps in the 40's.
Driving around without a coat.
Sunshine.
When it did decide to get cloudy, the only precipitation was rain, not snow.

Yeah, I'm ready. Of course, there's always the possibility of one more blizzard right around....oh...say...March 20th. But I'm choosing not to think about that right now. What did that pesky little groundhog say back on Feb. 2nd, anyway? Six more weeks of winter!? OK, where's my shotgun? Anybody want to road trip to Punxsutawney?

The Newt

2009-02-23T22:44:00.002-05:00

I have been sick- off and on- since New Years. In fact, I spent that night in the fetal position on my couch. Then came the sniffles again the weekend Peyton was born. Then came the Stomach Virus from Mars, and then finally, the week before last when I had two consecutive days off (a major treat!) I rushed back to North Royalton to see Shelley and the baby, and got sick again. Then a coworker asked was I:

A) Getting Enough Sleep- Nope!
B) Eating Well- Nope!
C) Under Stress- Yep!

I guess my body was trying to tell me something...STOP! So I did. I rested. And you know what? I feel better. The saying, "If you don't have your health, you don't have anything" is true; even for me and even now when I'm not feeling particularly wealthy in any sector. It's good to know that even during prolonged bouts of the sniffles or whatever unruly behavior my body can conjure up, that I will endure, and I will get better.

Valentine's Day

2009-02-13T09:31:00.001-05:00

Ouch. I'm going to see my niece. She'll cheer me up.

Attack of the Killer Stomach Eater from Mars!

2009-02-10T14:40:00.006-05:00

So, Saturday... I woke up at 8:30a with a slight rumbling in the tummy which I assumed was from stress (because, really I haven't been "stress-free" since about 1985), and realized it wasn't. I went #2, and didn't feel anything out of the ordinary and so went about morning routine. I made my coffee, drank my OJ, and sat at the computer to work on school stuff. Without warning, there it was- a burp that wasn't a burp that oozed last night's dinner through my tightly clenched fingers as I rushed to the bathroom. At the release of my hand, the entire contents of my stomach emptied into the bowl with the force of a fire hose, yet afterward, I felt better. "Huh," I thought, "That was interesting." So I tried take two at the computer with coffee in hand. Twenty minutes later, The toilet had once again made me her bitch, as I kneeled before her. Deciding that limiting my intake of anything was a good idea, I went back to bed until work time. I had a decent night at work with a few false alarms, but nothing came out. Getting better. The next day, Sunday, I ate brunch at Bob Evans before going into work and made almost made it through my entire shift before 11:30 rolled around, and I found myself in the staff bathroom making an ass of myself. Not fun. I'm happy to report that I'm finally feeling better and able to keep food down, but beware, fellow NW Ohioans. Wash those hands and keep your mucous membranes protected. These guys can't wait to stage an invasion.

Alive Again

2009-01-31T00:46:00.003-05:00

"Oompf!" That's the sound of forward momentum. Like a new lunar phase, the tides are shifting; however, it's been laborious. This is the first "break" I've had in school since I've started in October. I start another online class on Monday, and I go back "in person" on Feb. 9th. Not having a paper to write has afforded me the opportunity to re-focus on my professional job search. Laundry, on the other hand, is another story. After I found something to keep me afloat, I shamefully had not put forth the effort I should have. The days off at the new gig are few and far between and navigating the weekly schedule (days? evenings?) is something akin to figuring out the Labyrinths of Crete. If only I could make those two cups of coffee last all day. This break has afforded me more time to work on that. So, now in the morning, I scan Monster, the college websites, and Craigslist for opportunities that could fit.

Time and chance being what it is, coincidentally, I was invited to a job fair yesterday down at Owens. I hadn't worn a tie professionally since Sept. and it felt good. I felt first-class again.

My job search slacking wasn't by accident. I wasn't ready. My trust level for people both personally and professionally is higher than zero, but still less than five. Seeing commercials every day for my former employer is slightly nausea inducing. I'm terrified of falling in every sense of the word. I'm still very angry. And maybe that's the energy I'm pouring into school. I need time. But I did kill the wolf, and fuck it, I also need money and to get laid.

Last Saturday, this person arrived.

Sleepy! She must be related to me. I drove back after class, but not before running out of gas on the turnpike. I walked a 1/2 mile to the plaza, got gas, and walked the 1/2 mile back to my car. I had dressed up for the introduction. That means I had my peacoat, no scarf, no hat, and no gloves. The temperature was in the single digits, and by the time I settled back down in my seat, my ears could've broken off with a touch, and my fingers were numb. But the sweat I felt in my T-shirt, the frozen drool on my lapel told me one thing: I had stopped for a little while, but it wasn't terminal. I saved myself, you see. I felt like dying, but I was still very much alive.

Zero

2009-01-15T10:06:00.003-05:00

Lovely weather we're having, eh?

I'm at home with my cup of joe, my laptop, and my stack of books. I'd like to keep all of my extremities intact as long as possible, thank you very much.

Senior Year and Sober as Fuck

2009-01-13T14:30:00.004-05:00

2009: I'm almost halfway through January already. Furthermore, my .5 of a "Year-and-a-half" of school is over with. I've already knocked three classes out of the park; PSY, BIO, and a WRT class. Most encouraging, is that our cohort group has really started to gel. I feel I have won their respect and recognition. I have an uncanny knack for zeroing on what our profs. want from an assignment. And my writing is...well... not a problem. That's the best part of my experience right now. I'm halfway through my first ever online course and will be starting another one shortly. I enjoy the class time, but I am no longer leary of online degrees. Now that I know more of what it's about, I see an online Masters Degree happening in the next five to ten years.

In many ways, my life now is how it should've been a decade ago; In an apartment, unattached, and studying. What is it about those un-learned lessons that keep circling back to us? This is, for all rights and purposes, my senior year in college. I never make resolutions. Least of all this year. There is only one thing and one thing only I wish to accomplish- to finish school.

It's that nagging constant, that pulling thread, that gets me up every morning. I yearn for more, but I expect nothing. Good grades. Forward momentum to an unknown destination. Anything else, in 2009, is merely static.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

2009-01-10T08:14:00.005-05:00

It came- The biggest snowfall of the year. The white dusting has been ever-present since Christmas. In fact, the day before yesterday I drove -for the sake of it- my usual circuit following Route 24 down south, crossing the bridge at Grand Rapids, and taking County Road 65 back up. The sky was clear and blue against the sepia-toned grass. The trees bare, but clustered together feathered and stretched away from their moorings. There were times I was pushing 60 as I zoomed around that river valley. I think it was the most fun I've had all winter.

But yesterday, oh yesterday! The snow started around 10:00a and kept on coming. I received word that my Saturday class was delayed until noon today, if it doesn't eventually get canceled altogether. Here, the weather seems always to be such a big story; the road conditions, the ice, the horror! Last night, as I went to bed, all I could think about is how excited I would've been as a boy. I would've been out on the sledding hill all night. There, at the park, the oil drums would've been lit, a roaring bonfire in their guts. The smell of it was always exquisite; a smoky Cabernet dancing with the crisp freshness of the the chilled atmosphere. Hot chocolate from the thermos would slosh around heavily in my belly making me feel fat, full, and happy.

The snow always brought quiet, save for the cheers and whoops of dozens of boys and girls reveling in the wind at their face and the feelings evoked when they took sled to snow and felt the vibration beneath their seat.

I Kissed a Girl and I Liked It.

2009-01-06T21:53:00.005-05:00

I am utterly, absolutely, unabashedly, in love.

Her name is Taylor Swift. This is her picture. I dare you to look away.

And here's her song.

Beauty. Romance.

Hook, Line, and Sinker. Every Single Time.

Thankful

2009-01-05T22:31:00.002-05:00

Yup, I am. And yes, I do stand on my feet all day so I can pay my bills.

This article, from Slate's Dear Prudence sums up my situation quite nicely.

Dear Prudence,
I am a recent university graduate and am underemployed. After finding my field devastated by the economic collapse and jobs scarce, I started working as a clerk in a grocery store. The company is family-owned and offers excellent health benefits and a generous starting salary. I enjoy the work and have become friends with my co-workers, many of whom have made this their career. My problem is, when co-workers or customers find out about my diploma, I am inevitably asked what I am doing bagging groceries. This is a constant query as I frequently see former classmates and the occasional professor at my station. How do I explain that this job isn't for me without coming off as arrogant? I don't think I am better than my new friends at work, but I worked hard for my degree and am sometimes embarrassed not to be using it. How do I explain this without coming off as an elitist jerk?

—Underemployed

Dear Underemployed,
You're employed! For a recent college graduate, that's quite an accomplishment, especially if you were hoping to find a job in, say, the automotive industry, or finance, or journalism, or real estate, etc. The fact that you are grateful for the work and enjoy your colleagues must surely come through. And you say your co-workers know that this is just a temporary stop for you before you find something else, so they have probably been pleasantly surprised by you. So just answer people honestly, "Of course I'm still looking in my field, but until things turn around, I'm lucky that I found such a pleasant place to work so I can support myself." When you see classmates or professors, do remind them to let you know if they hear of any opportunities. And don't think of this time as wasted. (Here from the Forbes 400 list is someone who turned a job as a grocery clerk into a multibillion-dollar fortune.) You are learning many things that will be valuable to you when you move on in your career: being a reliable employee, getting along with your co-workers, and knowing what it feels like to stand on your feet all day so you can pay your bills.

—Prudie

I love her.

Jump

2008-10-10T10:08:00.002-04:00

Much has been written about the (lack of) merit in pop music- especially those of the pop/techno gay icons: Pure Fluff! I beg to differ. I have found considerable and positive insight from this genre of late. The beats and the melody are pedestrian at best, but the spirituality runs deep. Particular favorites are "Love One Another" and "Love Is the Groove" by Cher "Learn to Say Goodbye", by Madonna and finally "Jump" also by Madonna. All are songs of healing and inspiration.

The rounds of meetings continue. I meet with a Certified Networker today at lunch and who will hopefully be impressed and pass on some recomendations. I meet with an EPIC member next Wednesday night and another CN'er next Friday.

It will happen. At the moment, all I can do is close my eyes...

... and Jump.

Being Bold

2008-09-29T20:06:00.004-04:00

"Be bold, and mighty forces will come to your aid." Never has this been more true in my life than the past week and a half. Since this is my blog, yes this post is about me, but it is also a testament and a shout out to the ones who have been the most supportive lately. Thank you.

I have spent much of last week and this weekend connecting with as many people as I can. I met with N2 a few times to go over my resume and worked on it most of the day Sunday over multiple pots of coffee and The Killers- Hot Fuss providing the soundtrack at the kitchen table. CF helped, too. After sending what I had over to him, I met with N2 again today and he offered his (close to final) suggestions. It's almost ready for distribution should the opportunity (ies) arise.

I talked to DS today, and she had no problem writing me a rec. letter. I told her I would provide her with some qualities/qualifications I'd like her to highlight if she agreed. She said, absolutely. I know that DPW and her husband and EY have all been keeping there eyes and ears open for me.

Kyle and Holly were majorly supportive. When I showed them my grounds for resignation they were incredulous. Let's be clear here- I'm not trashing anybody. I think where I was was a fantastic place to work, no doubt! But it's been nice to hear all of the genuine validation- especially coming from people who really have nothing to gain anymore from our mutual association.

Holly's mom works at the library at UT and has been checking the UT job boards. Thank You

Bruce is worried sick and wants me to come back. He called four times yesterday. I am sympathetic, but it has done nothing for my stress level. It's not going to happen, and he is no longer responsible for me.

I went to the Doctor today to see if he would give me a 90 day supply of my Advair before my insurance runs out. He obliged, but the insurance company said no. And that's why I'm voting for Obama.

I did find out that my weight is back up. The lowest it had been was back in February at 127. I have gained it back and am now back up to pre-divorce weight of 142. Some of it, I suspect, is muscle, if you'll allow me to toot my own horn a bit. I've kept up my daily exercise regimen and am now up to 50 push ups and 50 sit-ups each morning. I'm no Arnold, but I do like how I look, which is toned. Committing to this has lent a sense of balance to my life I was desperately missing.

As of this writing, Kacey is in labor. She will be a new mother by the end of the night. I've been checking in periodically with her mother. Seriously, what did we ever do without cell phones?
I have a contact appointment with the head of CNP tomorrow. I'm hoping she can provide me with...well...something. We'll see. It's a breakfast meeting at 8:00 in Perrysburg. I'm on the road to Akron immediately after. The baby's here and I promised.

Chapter 2, 3, 4, 5...

2008-09-25T21:35:00.004-04:00

So, loyal reader(s): You've probably noticed I haven't been posting as often. Believe me, I think about it every day. Aside from the fact that I had been really busy at work, I still don't have cable/internet in the apartment and had relegated myself to internet usage strictly in local coffee shops. This trend will continue in the foreseeable future.

These came today:

I ordered them here. In case you're wondering, they're cufflinks made from antique typewriter keys, and yes, you could customize them, and yes I got two R's. They're rockin'. I was going to order a shirt from work with french cuffs to wear out and about....

...until I signed my resignation letter on Tuesday.

My experiences there were valuable to me, but it was time to move on. Already I have sent out a flurry of phone calls and e-mails. When I sit down and think about it, I know a lot of people. And most of them like me.

There's Kyle, Tmatt, a bunch of CNP and EPIC/Chamber of Commerce contacts. The hunt is on. I will not be idle. It sucks now, and it's way sooner than I had hoped. Nevertheless, I sense growth on the horizon. Now what's that I hear about an economic recession? Nah.

From The Daily Planet

2008-09-10T18:10:00.000-04:00

Actually, USA Today published this excellent story about the possible psychological origins of Superman. Just what would make a teenager dream up a bullet-proof man? Hmmm. Read all about it here:

Did a fatal robbery forge the Man of Steel?

In relation to this new angle on the Siegel Family- from Cleveland, Ohio; no less- comes to light a book titled, The Book of Lies. This novel written by Brad Meltzer has a plot referencing this very crime and the World's first murder by Cain. It's a Dan Brown - aVinci Code kinda read, and yes, I've already put it on my Amazon shopping list.

On Being Carrie Bradshaw

2008-09-08T20:35:00.003-04:00

The similarities have always been there, I suppose. As she famously said in the final episode, “I am someone who is looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love.” I believe in that, too. Still do.

We both dated Big- that handsome, sophisticated gentleman who was simply irresistible, who was so into us, who touched us so passionately on every level. Who we went running to whenever he called. Because what Big wants, Big gets. Who didn't quite know what he wanted. And ultimately didn't want you. Or maybe he knew all along.

Big moved to another Ohio city that has two syllables and ends in an a. Sure, we'll call it Napa. And I'm still here in Toledo looking bitchin' in my Manolos.

But the similarities end there. What was Carrie's educational background, anyway? I will finish school a year from January. I don't spend my days cavorting around my apartment. I'm on the verge of a great career upswing. New duties, new description, new professional relationships. There's lot's to do. This next batch of Blog Posts will show.

Yes, this Carrie still believes that real love exists. But for now, I'm not looking for it. Maybe, for a while, love can look for me. If I can get away with Manolos, then I definitely know I'm worth it.

Because I Promised.

2008-07-31T09:21:00.004-04:00

I promised I would return. Here I am. I couldn't leave the blog for long. Right after the move, and maybe even a little bit now, I have been lost in transition. I wasn't sure what to write, or where to start. I am here now. And I am ready.

Transitions are difficult. Things we seem sure of turn out not to be so sure. Still more difficult are the things we feel sure of about ourselves that turn out not to be true, or we evolve in new and different (sometimes frightening) ways and don't know how to make sense of it. I will try.

I understand.

Transition is messy.
Transition itself can be transitional! It's OK, Let's just call it what it is!
Transition needs time.
Transition needs space.
Transition needs focus.
Transition always needs communication.

I will start small today. I am a subscriber of the Funds for Writers weekly E-Newsletter. This quote from the latest edition struck me as particularly apropos. This blog, after all, is a story.

"So let's all bring back the stories, the poems, the myths, and remember in
the front most part of our brains that the truth is not in the facts but in the
stories.

Take time to tell and write the stories of our lives, stories of our hopes,
stories for our children, stories of our dreams and even stories of our
forgetting.

Too soon we put away stories and begin to dance to the facts, and too
late we learn that facts don't endure, only stories do."
~Gwynne Spencer

Hangover

2008-06-04T20:45:00.002-04:00

You know how you don't get a headache until the next day after a night of hard partying? Apparently I don't become emotionally vulnerable until four days after leaving my BF of nine years.

Ouch.

I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm just feeing mellow. I have my DVDs and my chicken pot pie.

It will all be OK.

We Don't Say Goodbye

2008-05-29T19:57:00.000-04:00

Dear Bruce,

Thank you for everything. I hope someday you'll understand that letting me go was the greatest gift you ever gave me. You loved me unconditionally.

So this is who I am,
And this is all I know,
And I must choose to live,
For all that I can give,
The spark that makes the power grow
And I will stand for my dream if I can,
Symbol of my faith in who I am,
But you are my only,
And I must follow on the road that lies ahead,
And I won't let my heart control my head,
But you are my only
We don't say goodbye,
We don't say goodbye,
And I know what I've got to be

Immortality
I make my journey through eternity
I keep the memory of you and me inside

Fulfill your destiny,
Is there within the child,
My storm will never end,
My fate is on the wind,
The king of hearts, the joker's wild,
We don't say goodbye,
We don't say goodbye,
I'll make them all remember me

'Cause I have found a dream that must come true,
Every ounce of me must see it through,
But you are my only
I'm sorry I don't have a role for love to play,
Hand over my heart I'll find my way,
I will make them give to me

Immortality
There is a vision and a fire in me
I keep the memory of you and me, inside
We don't say goodbye
We don't say goodbye
With all my love for you
And what else we may do
We don't say goodbye

Willing To

2008-05-27T21:14:00.003-04:00

I returned from Akron yesterday. The weekend was exhausting, but it's all good. No small coincidence that I connected with the people who mean the most to me on this eve of such great change. There was my mother, my sister, my step dad, my favorite aunt (from Florida, no less!) and as always, Kacey. All of them weighed in. All of them tried to influence. All of them worry. All of them love me. But already, I could feel it. I wasn't the same boy they knew. Their thoughts and opinions mattered to me, and still hurt a little, but no longer could they be the driving force of my existence. They are the guides, but they are not the source of power.

One of the things I am most proud of is being told that I have a willingness take risks. Tomorrow I sign papers that will change the course of my life forever. At a distance from my family, the choice and the consequences are mine alone. It's about time. Yes, this is a risk. I risk discomfort, loneliness, financial hardship.

But I also gain identity. I gain freedom. I gain truth. I gain creativity. I gain life. I gain new friendships, new challenges, new rewards. Friday night, Saturday I'm anticipating to be the two most difficult days of my life. I'm not looking forward to it for the enjoyment factor, that's for sure. But I am looking forward to it. It's a rite of passage. It's my baptism, my bar mitsvah, my aboriginal walk-about.

When I think about it, life wasn't really that...well...bad here. I really do have everything I need to live and comfortably so. But here I would only exist. And I was made for so much more. This could be the first time I've ever really risked anything. It's been hard, but I don't think it will be the last time.

I'm not running.
I'm not hiding.
I'm just resting in the arms of the Great Wide Open...

How about a little Mary Chapin Carpenter?

The Seventh Sign?

2008-05-22T20:57:00.003-04:00

I love cats, really, I do. I have one myself. As a matter of fact, it was I who begged Bruce to let Katie stay with us so long ago. Sure, we took lots of pictures at first. There she was sitting on Bruce's lap. My lap. Look, she's in the sink! She thinks the sink is a bed! Hilarious!

Then we got over it.

I guarantee you that no picture, no picture I ever took is as cheesy-cute as the the photos at icanhazcheeseburger.com.

These self-described LOL Catz, as they're called are a phenomenon that has infected our hallowed internet with such infectious, insidious evil something must be done. Who will save the children?

Ladies and gentlemen, Lucifer has spoken, and he has done so with arresting pornographic material and bad grammar. Look away and save your souls, if you can.

Whoda Thunkit?

2008-05-19T20:38:00.004-04:00

It is true! I'm talking about the Archives of the History of American Psychology in Akron, OH- my hometown! I found out about this little city gem while waiting in line at a swanky new downtown sushi restaurant Saturday night. There I was in the very epicenter of all things Goodyear, and the anorexic little blond in front of us would not shut up.

Did we know that Alcoholics Anonymous was founded in Akron? Vaguely, I remembered, but not until that night. And the Psychology museum was here too! We came to wonder how she was so intimate with dysfunction. Between her stringy nest of hair, her Flockhart-like appearance, and exuberant, nervous energy, we concluded she was coked up. It was the logical conclusion, after all.

Further evidence was presented as we observed her leaving after dinner, finger to nose, snorting all the way to the door. Tim offered that maybe it was the spicy Szechuan Chicken making her nose run as his had, but we knew better.

Naturally, I did some digging. So what's in a Museum of Psychology besides cigars? Try billy clubs from the Stanford prison experiment, and a chronoscope. Now, what I'd like to see is written answers to Rorschach tests. Come on... how many people really thought that was a "butterfly?"

Check out the New York Times article here. I am so there!

Mortarboard: In Which I Graduate, Have Some Laughs, And Walk The Line.

2008-05-17T09:29:00.004-04:00

One of the great things about working at a college is that I get to experience commencement every year. Some years, I get to suit up and wear my cap and gown, others I'm out in the lobby hawking T-Shirts. Every year, I get to witness the ceremony and see anew the joy and pride that resides where hard work and dreams intersect. Always, I reflect on my own graduation, and my own future. (So what else is new?)

This year was different. There was pomp and circumstance, pride, joy, sadness, and yes, even Abe Lincoln was there.

I processed as a member of the alumni, with a stole and a medal indicating my participation in our 150th year. We sat in the first few rows of the Stranahan. Very cool.

We honored two families of students who passed before they were able to complete their degree. One I was closer to and that was pretty emotional for me.

I've always wanted to write about her on the blog, but have resisted. It felt cheap to do so since it was a professional relationship. The mother sought me out after the ceremony and I was glad I was able to touch base with her. She had sent me a card right after the passing and I still have it in it's envelope at my desk. I glance at it every day. On bad days, I pull the card out and read it. It's clipped to the bulletin board right under the sign that says, "God breaks the rules..." you know the rest. I will tell you her story in person. It's been a turning point for me. I was glad to be reminded of her and her family at this point in my life. Please get this: God works through people. We're all his.

Lighter things:

The party was fun. Not as much fun as the Christmas party, since our students were there and we had to keep it reigned in a bit. Whoever had the ticket taped under their chair won the table centerpiece. Determined to win, Steve ripped off what amounted to the "Do Not Remove Under Penalty of Law" tag. Oops. I had to steal my place setting (salad too) from another table. I think I pissed off an Australian. It was a quick evening, but I imagined you there with me. You would've been so handsome, and you would've fit right into the rouge's gallery I call my co-workers.

On the way home, things turned interesting. I fought the law. And I won. I am fine, but I will leave the descriptions of the sobriety tests I had to endure for a personal encounter. It's much more fun to pantomime. Oh, he was trying, but I was much too calm, compliant, and well...sober for him to make anything stick.

I am all about experiencing the new and different; however, I will not experience a night in the box, and I will not have a bright shiny new record. Count on it.

Canaveral

2008-05-15T07:15:00.002-04:00

May 15, 2008. T-Minus 15 days to launch. Bruce has succumbed to the inevitability of me leaving. It's been...bumpy. Part of it was my work schedule. I literally haven't been home. That made things more real for him. The microwave sitting in my trunk and the coffee maker in the dining room hasn't helped either. On his end, he has gone forward with the refinancing, and has contacted a niece and a nephew to shift some of his life insurance to. We are subtly separating in gentle and not so gentle ways. Paperwork is harsh. Involving other people is hard.

The course is charted on my calendar. Today is the day I call the electric company. I will set up service at the new place for June 1st. I have a PO Box, and having completed the forwarding process, my mail is now being sent there. I've been picking it up after work.

I haven't really started packing. First of all, I hate doing it. Secondly, I feel weird...guilty, dirty, evil going into the basement and coming up with a box full of my stuff ready to leave. Bruce just says, "Got your stuff?"

Yes, I have my stuff. And before I know, it will be time to suit up, strap into that U-Haul and launch.

Do I have The Right Stuff? Why yes, I think I do.

Serendipity-doo-dah

2008-05-13T20:03:00.010-04:00

First, Some updates.

Work. 8-8. All week. Enough said.

Last week, I bought a coffee maker and a microwave. I've never bought a coffee maker or a microwave before. I just realized that.

---

OK, let's talk.

For years I've known I would leave Bruce. I didn't really know how or when. I did know last July that this would be the year. Still, if you told me back in October that all of this would happen, I probably would've laughed in your face. And yet, I look back and am not completely surprised. I feel like I knew it all along...

I'm reminded of the week I spent canoeing in Canada. (You know, the one where I didn't shower for a week and returned to civilization smelling like a Yeti.) It was our most miserable day. We had gotten up before dawn to decamp and paddle to an island that was popular with other troops and boaters only to find the opposing current too strong. We ended up on another island, made camp, had breakfast and napped.

Not long after I lay my head down, the rain came. Torrential. Cold. No real ground or similar cushion to be had, my sleeping bag was splayed out on the glacier-carved rock. The water pooled and flowed beneath our tents. It seeped into our down-filled sacks. Within minutes, I was soaked. That the tent at least kept the rain from beating down onto my head was little comfort. For the first time that trip, I begged to go home. I was done. It was too hard. Spent, hungry, and just plain uncomfortable I wanted my own bed, my own hot shower, my own things. The rain continued for a couple of hours, nothing for any of us to do but take it.

And then the sun came out. And when it did, we drenched, water-logged misfits crawled like sewer rats out of our a-frames and squinted at the light. It didn't take long to warm us again and dry our clothes. We put our knapsacks in the sunniest place we could find and they were good as new within minutes. That evening, fed, fire-eyed, puffing on a swisher sweet, my longing to go home was already a distant memory. In fact, I couldn't wait to tell everyone how I had been so soaked and destitute- they wouldn't have been able to stand it. But I did. It was no big deal, really. All was fine again by nightfall. That's just what outdoorsmen do. You'll keep my secret, right?

March and April were fucked up. That's it. Most of it had to do with me. I was an emotional wreck. I think it was perfectly natural. I was right at the threshold of acting on everything I said I needed to act on. Everything I knew I needed to act on. I wanted to change my situation. I didn't want to change me. I hated the thought of that. What would that mean? How different would I be? Would the people who loved me before love me after? What if I was wrong? It was raining, and I was miserable. But it was no less a part of this process. Perhaps the most important part.

I am currently marveling at how things are falling into place. I, we, have made choices for sure, inspired action, I call it. But there's still that tug at my heart that says that I am right where I need to be. While trying to peel away the layers, I found I've added layers instead. There are new sides, new understandings, new complexities, and at the core of it all is love. And at the core of that love is the love for me. Wow.

You only have to give what you yourself have. I've always believed it. Now I'm living it.

I'm going back further than October, you know. This is who I am:

The fuck up- he boldly tests the waters against sage advice and his own better judgment. But that's how he learns.

The boy- he sees wonder and love, he yearns for new experiences. He wants to be taught. He wants to grow.

The sick baby- he sees purpose in his life, he wills himself to live, he finds strength in his mind and his spirit where his body has betrayed him.

The man- He is the amalgamation of all of these things and more yet to come. He has the confidence of his father, the sensitivity of his mother, his uncle's sense of humor, he shares memories with his sister. He has walked about in the wilderness.

Looking back down that trail behind me I think: I couldn't have written a better script if I tried, and I wonder am I unique in knowing these things?

I wonder, what is everyone else missing?

I hope to God they're not.

And then there's you. You've always been there. With me. The essence of you was there before I met you. But I think I always knew you. You're not always physically there, and I've grown to accept and understand the differences, the distance, the layers, the love. I've grown to accept to release and let go, to let this be what this may or may not be, but enjoy it and revel in it nonetheless. You taught me that. That's what this man does.

What I've thought about a lot lately was this: I think about one of our most awkward times at that cabin, that proving ground- which now I am so thankful for for so many reasons. Do you suppose that was fate, too? That we would really come to know ourselves, come to know our hearts? Love ain't always rainbows and butterflies. It's more. And we proved that, too. And still, there was so much good.

I keep thinking about the stars.

For a half hour, I sat on your lap in a hot tub and you held me. We didn't speak. We didn't profess our love or make silly faces, or sing or kiss. We both just kept looking up. In those hills far away from Macy's there were so many stars, and without my glasses they just blurred together into one foggy streak- unending, an infinite depthless field. We were there together in that womb, in the stillness at the advent of new life.

Mother's Day

2008-05-11T09:21:00.005-04:00

Looking back through my posts, it's apparent that I haven't written very much about my mom. There are quite a few abut my dad. When I think of the novel I want to write, it focuses mainly on the father-son relationship, the women supporting players.

I've wondered about the lack of props for Mom. I think it is because there are very few singular moments I can remember. My positive contact with my father was rare, and in my conscious more valuable in a way, but definitely not more important. My dad's relationship to me still mystifies and thrills me the way a suspenseful movie does, I haven't really figured him out.

I've got my mom down. My mother was an ever-present force in my childhood, and I was to her later in life after the divorce. This may have done both of us some damage. I like to think it did more good.

I am cautious about painting a completely rosy picture, so I will tell you that her critical nature rivals Joan Rivers, and I find myself more intolerant of that as I get older. Our space from each other has lent some perspective, too. With some things she is just so unbending, and she loves her value judgments. She collects them and keeps them in a bag like marbles. I worry about inheriting this trait, so I willfully try to remain flexible when I can. She's not the tidiest house cleaner. She stresses out easily. She's defensive.

She's also a natural.

She loves children. And when she was finished raising her own, (though she would argue that Shelley and I aren't "done yet.") she has continued to positively influence the lives of little ones. She teaches school with gentle words and firm assignments. She runs the church nursery on Sunday. At family gatherings, she's a baby hog with my second cousins. Sometimes, I get a little jealous.

She did the dirty work. A self-described tomboy, She took us sled riding and broke her back. She took us sled riding again the following year. Her sisters were incredulous. She was having fun.

One summer, while my dad and I went to Canada for a week, he left a pile of mulch in the driveway to work on when he got back. We returned to find it gone, the yard smelling of that pungent, woodsy scent. The dirt was still under her fingernails, and she and Shelley had a triumphant, mischievous look I'll never forget.

When I had trouble with math, some parents might have farmed out the help and carted me to Sylvan. She painstakingly made flash cards herself out of poster board, and devised all sorts of games until I knew my time tables.

She has an amazing way of being gentle and tough at the same time. She hates flowery language and even the faintest whiff of insincerity. She'll call it right out. She'll tear me down and build me back up in the same conversation. I'm sort of a glutton for that kind of punishment.

Truth be told, I can't take credit for very much. It's all her. And my comfort with myself- from having the "wherewithal" to come out so young? That was nothing more than another weapon in the arsenal of teenage rebellion.

The resulting security came from my mother loving her gay son.

Save the Children

2008-05-10T21:51:00.003-04:00

Quick show of hands: who here thinks I plowed right through my to-do list today and am now 3/4 packed and ready to go?

Put your hands down. Seriously! Did you just start reading this thing? This day was much too beautiful to do any serious work. While sparing you the details, I will tell you that Bruce and I found ourselves on brief babysitting detail today.

Gabriel is a four year old heart breaker. And he knows it. He's really not much different than I imagine I was when I was four. I guess that's why we get along so great. McDonald's was first on the agenda. We ordered him a Happy Meal and though he is not related to me by blood I got a certain smug satisfaction when he specified the healthier Apple Dippers instead of fries.

After lunch, we went to the park. I pushed him on the swing and then nervously watched him as he climbed all over the playground equipment. Up and down the slide, across the bridge, he had a blast, and I loved watching him, squinting in the sunlight. Every so often he would stop at the top, wave his arms and say those glorious words, "Uncle R***! Watch this!" Music!

He begged to go back to our house on the drive home, and yeah, I got a certain satisfaction out of that, too. Of course, once he was back at his house he quickly found a myriad of distractions and that was that.

Later, I myself went to Sears (appliance sale until Sunday!) -where I bought a coffee maker and a microwave- and on the way home nearly passed a lemonade stand. This wouldn't do.

I kicked it in reverse and drove backwards to their place at the curb. I rolled down my window. A twelve year old and his kid brother seemed to be the proprietors.

"How much?," I asked.
"As much as you want to pay. 50 cents. We're also taking donations for the poor." Quite the little marketer.

I handed him $2.00

"Sweet!," he said., "Do you want a small or a large?"
"I'll take a small."

They were serving the drink out of plastic tupperware cups, meant for re-use.
"You're in luck!", the twelve year old said. He actually nodded and raised a large glass up, "This is all we have left."

This time, the little one chimed in. "We put too much water in it, but don't worry, we added a lot of sugar!" He said enthusiastically. I wondered if he was dipping into the inventory.

He was right. It was very sweet. I drank it as fast as I could. Almost done, I noticed them studying me, eyebrows raised.

"This is very good!" I said.
"Thanks!" I handed the purple cup back and told them good luck. They politely thanked me and told me to stop back in a tone that said their stand were an Applebee's and I could just visit again next week.

I know they totally ran inside and told their mom that some guy just gave them $2.00. I hope I made their day.

They completely made mine.

The Body Electric; The Energy Kinetic

2008-05-09T22:35:00.005-04:00

{Ed. Note: It's ironic that while I had conceived this post- the bulk of it about the energy and inertia of life of late- I found myself enduring one of the most draining and exhausting weeks at work. It wasn't the work load only; I suspect there is some residuals of "the rest" I am dealing with seeping in, though I am very proud of my techniques to keep those at bay and have found myself to be quite productive. The two meetings I had to attend this week, on top of the usual preparations for a new quarter, no doubt contributed to my general dip and aching body. Sleep is... intermittent. Nevertheless, I have pushed through (cheerfully, even!) and have found the time, space, energy, and mindset to put fingers to keyboard.}

---

"Words--so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them."

---Nathaniel Hawthorne

Of course Mr. Hawthorne (American Renaissance!) phrased it much more eloquently than I, but no doubt, words are powerful.

Regarding the hurtful effects of words, I'm sure you've heard the metaphor of each insult likened to a nail in a fence. You can pull the nail out of the plank with an apology, but the hole will still be in the wood.

And then there are the positive effects of words. I believe you can will something into existence by speaking the word. I know. It's happened to me. You can self-talk yourself into having an attribute, but unless someone else recognizes it, you never really had it to begin with. Here is my collection of my third-party defining words that I carry with me in my pocket like loose change- talismans that live in my heart and my mind and had they never been spoken- I'm not sure how I would've ever survived. They have been bestowed upon me by family, friends, co-workers, lovers, all of whom I am grateful for. All of whom I have learned the lesson from and so push it back out into the world.

Smart
Handsome
Funny
Leader
Courageous
Sexy (Hey I'll take it!)
Strong <---added recently
Good<---added recently

It's an interesting phenomenon. Because these words have been spoken to me, I find that indeed I am or at least feel that I am smart, handsome, funny, a leader, courageous, sexy, strong, and good especially in those times when I need it the most.

It concerns me that this isn't happening enough- To our children, to our family, to our friends. Do you suppose we can work on it? Do you suppose it's too late? I don't think so.

---

Throughout my life, there has been one word that has followed me like an annoying kid brother : Potential.

"God, R***, you have such potential," my mother would say/plead/beg whenever she felt I hadn't applied myself. It followed me everywhere. Yes, I knew what I was capable of (sort of) but damn it, maybe I wasn't ready. In physics, we are taught about potential and kinetic energy. That a compressed spring can actually store energy, until ready to release it at the right time is fascinating to me, and lately, a metaphor for my life.

I knew I always had potential, but there was no proper channel for that energy. And maybe my spring needed to be wound a little tighter.

Maybe I was lazy.

I do know the word potential has lost its power for me. Why? Because I feel I've passed the point of potential. I'm at the point of action. I used to have potential. Now I have action. And results. I have experienced an incredible surge of energy lately (don't confuse this with pure and exclusive physical energy) This is...life energy. Gone are the days of apathy. The potential is there. It is electrified. It is crackling and popping, snapping off of my fingertips as I touch life. When it does this, it does not leave me. The energy changes forms. It ignites, creates, inspires, magnetizes.

Potential wasn't always bad. It was there all along. Potential energy burned in my core. I think it kept me alive 28 years ago. Today, it becomes kinetic and makes me live.

Zzz.

2008-05-07T21:53:00.001-04:00

I'm still here. Just getting through this incredibly long week. Good night, Dieseldorfs.

Manic Monday

2008-05-05T19:46:00.005-04:00

Today I was only supposed to work from 8-1. That didn't happen. Let's review:

Morning meeting with Mary- Bookstore Hours/Coverage, etc...
Meet with Pauline- Transcription Headphones in? Check!
Begin working on weekly TPS (Enrollment) report
Nick stops by...
My lamp came in!
Tami's late.
Cover for her a few times.
Continue working on TPS report until nearly time to leave.
Realize I've been editing the previous weeks report. I have to start over. And I have to find another copy of the previous week's report I've now pillaged since I always "save early and save often."
Find another copy of previous week's report in my sent messages (whew!)
Time to go to apartment.
Visit apartment.
Thinking: Have to get insurance soon. Have to have a place for the bill to be sent.
Visit post office.
Wait in line for 20mins. Now I have to pee.
Register for PO Box.
Jane is nervous about where we're going tomorrow. I decide to drive downtown and find it.
Can't find it, still have to pee.
Back at work to "finish report."
Jane wants to know where the place is. Tell her I couldn't find it. We Google directions. Tell her I'll just pick her up in the morning.
Pee (finally!)
Greg isn't going.
Scott isn't going.
Ann may not be going.
Looks like it's just Jane and I.
RSVP much?
Nick wants to know about apartment. Reminds me about networking event tomorrow evening. Instructs me to wear a tie. I think I have a few of those.
5:00, don't finish report.
Dad calls. Talk. He went fishing. Nice.
Kacey calls. They have scraped all of the excrement off of the walls. She's exhausted and not meeting me for dinner. That's OK.
Dinner is served: reheated Olive Garden bread sticks and a Chicken Pot Pie I nuked in the microwave.
Book it to Starbuck's to finish report. (Thanks for that, BTW! You rock.)
7:30: finish report and sent.
8:00. Done here. Decide to go home and go to bed.

Tomorrow could be busier...

Somewhere Only We Know

2008-05-04T21:08:00.005-04:00

Dear Mr. Anonymous:

I've never forgotten our special place. It's still out there, waiting for us to return.

Today was incredible. No words, really for what I feel when I see you or touch you again. It's just this palpable thing that exists. Was there really a whole month that separated us? And there we were picking up right where we left off.

I loved you showing me around town. I love that you want me to see it, and that you trust my discretion with these aspects of your life. Today, for the first time in a long time, I got a glimpse of what could lie ahead. I think you did, too. There is a place that exists for us- there's no contract, no expectations, only a destination that we can move in and out of freely. We give so much to everyone else. We'll continue to do that- mostly independently, but that place will always be there to return to. Expected? Never. Discovered? Amazing.

Who ever thought that Lima, Ohio could become "Somewhere Only We Know?"

No Surprise Here.

2008-05-01T21:50:00.002-04:00

Your Aura is Blue

Spiritual and calm, you tend to live a quiet but enriching life.

You are very giving of yourself. And it's hard for you to let go of relationships.

The purpose of your life: showing love to other people

Famous blues include: Angelina Jolie, the Dali Lama, Oprah

Careers for you to try: Psychic, Peace Corps Volunteer, Counselor

What Color Is Your Aura?

Houston

2008-05-01T20:53:00.001-04:00

Today is May 1, 2008. That brings me to T-Minus 30 days until launch.

I am anxious, but not fearful. I feel Bruce and I have come to a mutual peace and understanding. It's a different kind of love, but it is love, nonetheless. It's what I prayed for. Do not think, however, that I am naive enough to think that the day I leave will be easy. It won't be. It's just I'm not afraid of it. How can I be? I'm too excited! My life is out there waiting for me.

You should know, I've found the key to this whole thing is school. I am psyched about starting. About proving myself once and for all....to myself. About earning the potential to command more responsibility and pay. About meeting new people. About living authentically.

At work, there's an undercurrent that there may be a shift in responsibility and job duties. If it is what I think it is, it will be a greater suit to my strengths, but also offer more challenges, which equal, really, more opportunities for self-improvement. One thing I've learned, is I can handle challenges.

I wish you could see it! I wish you could feel it too; there's a different man in that mirror. He looks...older. He looks like the perfect combination of strength and passion, of mother and father, of past, present, and future. He talks differently. He walks differently. He loves differently.

I am working at a furious pace to make sure all of my loose ends are tied up. Pressure is good for me. I work well under it, actually. These next 30 days will be some of the most productive of the entire nine month process.

I've done the pre-flight check. I think we're go for launch.

Poetry Corner: Veneer

2008-04-29T19:27:00.004-04:00

I wish I could say exactly what day things changed. I would mark it on my calendar and celebrate it annually as a holiday. This growth has been gradual, but they say one reaches a point of no return, and from there swiftness is the only option. This is my attempt to illustrate the process and the shift.

Yeah, there I am. Not looking at the camera...that lens, those judgments will always be there. They will follow me. They'll always follow. I'll be looking at the horizon -shit faced grin and all- wondering just what more mischief I can get into.

Veneer

Recognized, then disrobed.
I couldn't see it at first, but it had always been there
Protecting the raw underneath
I would slip it on afterwards.

Not everlasting,
It was the absence that made it stronger;
Was never a shield I carried, but a cocoon:
Insulating
Incubating
Stopping

This chrysalis reminded me- the story
Of the boy who couldn't wait to see the butterfly
And so, picked at the wad, destroying.

Hopefully, patiently, gentler,
The gestation has been a gradual pause
Absent of prescience.
The day I wetly shook off the membranes
I felt things
Beyond flight,
Beyond fear.

Go!

2008-04-27T23:19:00.003-04:00

Confession: I look forward to the Summer movie season with a fervor not unmatched by adolescent girls buying scapled tickets to see Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers. Check out this extended trailer/music video for the new Speed Racer movie. There's enough eye candy in this thing to send my retinas into a diabetic coma. I don't even care if the plot is stupid or if it's marketed to ten year olds. The ten year old in me says, "This Fucking Kicks Ass!" (Please don't tell my mom I said, "Fuck." I think she'd be OK with "Ass", since it's technically naming an animal.)

Leap Of...

2008-04-27T19:47:00.006-04:00

...Faith. That's what I was trying to describe to him every Thursday I visited with my Bible. He 93, his body emaciated, tender bed sores on his legs, had his doubts. I spared him the mustard seed. He wanted to know for sure that there was a heaven. Ever the honest one, I told him while I had no proof that there was a heaven for sure, I believed there was. I had faith. And he just had to believe, too. "How do you know?, " he persisted, until one day exhausted after so many weeks, I emphatically asserted, "I know." That was all he had needed. No hem-hawing, no scientific mumbo-jumbo, just my simple answer. He died shortly after, and I believe he found what he was looking for.

It's a strange phenomenon, really. When faced with uncertainties, it seems counter-intuitive that we turn to even more unknowns-prayers we think will be answered; faith that things will turn out OK- instead of nailing down the concrete things we do have at the time. But the concrete things can be elusive, too. No matter what we try to control, there is always something that slips through our fingers every year of our lives until we reach the point of the ultimate equalizer, the ultimate loss of control, and that is where faith comes in. If it works so well in the end, why not utilize it more in our lives? (And those who know me well, know that it worked quite well at the beginning of my life, too.)

I've laid the ground work, I've wound the clock, and it's ticking down. Bruce told me Friday night he had been pre-approved for re-financing. He took the reigns of the cable bill, too. I wasn't sad, or bitter- I was proud. He has done a brave thing.

As we go our separate ways, we are both terrified. But as The Day draws closer, something quite unexpected has happened. My heart has warmed. It's the beacon that's tied to the electric current of faith and though it doesn't know the concrete destination, it most certainly knows where it's going.

As one of my favorite artists, Mary Chapin Carpenter sings, "...I never learned nothing from playing it safe. I say fate should not tempt me." and "Forgiveness doesn't come with a debt."

Sing it, Kids! (Sorry, YouTube won't let me embed this one, but it's worth the leap to listen.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wYhjNDFMMc0

The Studio

2008-04-23T22:23:00.000-04:00

I know you've been dying to see it- the not so custom floor plan that will be my new and very hovel- ahem!- humble abode. You'll see there's no shortage on closet space. There's still plenty of room for the Boones Farm. It's about the size of your average double-wide, but without the inconvenience of cyclones!

"Apartment" is so passé and ...well...straight. I dub thee The Studio! So called mainly because my new desk (see below) will be in the living room! With my Sofa! Indulge me. Please.All sarcasm aside, I'm a *little* excited about starting over, and have been eyeing some super-cool things to pimp this new crib.

Here are a few:

The Desk:

The Desk Lamp:

Which do you like best? I like how the one on the bottom reminds me of a piano lamp.

The Bookshelf:

Matches the Desk. This will unify that corner of the room. If I had a dedicated office room, I would've picked a different book case. Since this will be in a multi-use room we need to identify "areas" through consistency.

The Dresser:

Yes, it's yellow but bear with me. You see, the walls will all be white so I've been actively seeking out color. The sheet set I have will be red, blue, and white striped. The yellow is complimentary to the blue. Also, the nightstand and bed I have will both be white. I needed some color somewhere. And I hate matchy-matchy. I think this will be a really cool, funky addition.

This concludes our tour for today. More items will be posted as they are scouted. It may not be a great entertaining space, but I can call it home. My Home. Would you like to come and visit?

Literally Speaking

2008-04-21T21:53:00.003-04:00

I love to read. Mind you, this doesn't constitute me actually finishing a book, but nonetheless, I love to read. Apparently, I have literary ADD. That's why lately I've preferred short story compilations. {Speaking of which, Damn. The O. Henry Prize Stories for 2008 won't be released until May 6th. I'll have to add that to my Amazon list, among others.}

Maybe once I'm on my own and freer of distractions, I'll get something finished. It may even be one of these books, which I am reading bit by bit in quasi-rotatation (listed in order of start date):

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers
Jesus for the Non-Religious, by John Shelby Spong
A New Earth, by Eckart Tolle
The Choice, by Nicholas Sparks {Give me a break, already! You know you weep like a schoolgirl, too!}

Then, I found Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart, by Gordon Livingston. It's a collection of 30 anecdotes. Some I knew, some were new to me. All are good reminders. This stuff never gets old. Here are some of my favorites:

We are what we do.
Feelings follow behavior.
Be bold, and mighty forces will come to your aid.
The perfect is the enemy of the good.
Our greatest strengths are our greatest weaknesses.
Happiness is the ultimate risk.
Not all who wander are lost.

It was the last copy on the shelf, and I had only by chance walked by it. Now here's one of my own life lessons:

The things we look for are often disappointing. But the things we discover are always amazing.

The Commitment Ceremony

2008-04-19T23:11:00.001-04:00

Earlier this week, while getting ready for work, I saw this on my dresser, and I remembered the day I bought it from a short, sweating Mexican in Cozumel back in 2002. His booth was tucked back in a courtyard ally far from the more stubborn and aggressive peddlers that were in the mall just off the docks. I reveled in the exploration and the hunt, and the bargaining, too.

"Sterling Silber," he assured me, and I could tell that it was. I'm sure I got ripped off at $25.00, but of course it's obvious why I loved the motif and it was my size- a hard thing to find in ready-made jewelry. It's not a particularly unique design, but it's unique to me, and I like that it came from a (somewhat) exotic location.

I'm not a jewelry person, per se. I abhor most jewelry on men. Pinky rings, gaudy rings, and gold chains. No. Way. I have very few turn offs, but you have no chance in hell if I'm wondering if you'd like to buy me a drink or sell me a car.

But a classy ring with a purpose can be cool. I've worn this ring off and on through the years mostly depending on the outfit, and mostly during the summer months. That changed this week. Bruce and I have a matching pair of wedding bands we've worn outside of working hours so as not to attract attention. We haven't worn them in months. As I got dressed this week, gathering up my essentials, (Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet, and Watch), I put the silver ring on, too and left it there.

Symbolism and ritual are very important to me. To illustrate my shift in truth, I wear this ring to remind me who I am really committed to- myself. I will remain flexible and adaptable to the tides, but I will do a little bit more swimming against the current as life demands it. It's on my right hand, so as never to be confused for something else. It's ergonomically correct there too, as I am a lefty anyway. Only I will decide if it will ever come off. And as I reach for that phone or that pen or look down as I type, I will see it's waves and feel the freedom that comes from taking in that first glorious breath of air after being below the surface for so long.

The Last Day of Normal

2008-04-19T21:23:00.001-04:00

On the eve before The Reckoning, I find myself in a reflective state. Tomorrow afternoon, everything will have changed. I have readily built up my defenses.

Today was a quiet one, actually. I went to work, was semi-productive, came home and took a nap. Bruce was happily painting the back fence when I pulled into the drive. He looked over his shoulder, smiled, and waved. He was happy. The weather was warm and he has been so eager to get out and start working on the house. It's his bliss, really. He will be forever working on the house. Our house. His house.

I did some cleaning up and sorting of minor things before making dinner. The reasons unbeknownst to him, I made one of his favorites; Pork Chops with Port Wine Sauce. I turned the TV off and turned the stereo on while we ate. We didn't talk much. He had gone to a continuing ed. workshop at BGSU today, and told me a little about that. I listened. He thanked me for cooking just like he always does, and went to work on the dishes.

Emotions are liquid. Up to this point, that's all we've discussed. I know he's been holding on to the hope that I would change my mind. Nothing had happened yet, after all! I would get over it. I imagine tomorrow he will be stunned to know the lengths I have gone to separate. That I've secured an apartment, talked to the realtor and mortgage broker, and decided on a definite move out date may very well blind side him. For him, the devil will be in the details. How will he react to that? Will he comply? Will I have to get a lawyer? Thankfully I have a brochure for pre-paid legal from my HR Dept. I'm hoping it won't come to that. I'm hoping my compassion and sensitivity will deflect any anger.

I'm eerily calm. Already I can sense change and growth. Strength. Peace. Standing alone, truly alone, I have found a new love for myself. And it's beautiful. It will open me up to new loves, new dreams, new accomplishments I've never even known.

R2 the boy was novel, indeed. But R2 the man- forget my parents- I think the boy would look up to him. That is my aim. To go back, through my actions of today, to make that boy stronger. To show him the brighter future. To show him he no longer has to live in the shadows of those around him...that he is loved, that he is amazing. That he will shine. That he will have purpose.

That I will always take care of him.

No, RJ, it won't always be easy. But these past six months? So close to coming out to the other side...I wouldn't trade them for anything and you'll see it too, I promise.

Normalcy, like comfort, is overrated.

On the eve of this "Good Bye" I am reminded that this low, sad phrase is grounded in something far more hopeful- "God Be With You."

Holy Schrute

2008-04-17T21:34:00.003-04:00

It may border on pathetic, but I am so glad the writer's strike is over. It was a long enough winter as it was. One of my favorite shows on TV right now is The Office. I like it because it reminds me of some of the people I work with and have worked with in the past, some even quirkier than what is portrayed on the show.

Except...

Everyone else at work likes to watch The Office, too. Do they see similarities with the cast and their co-workers also? And perhaps -most importantly- which Office worker do they think I am? Dear God, please just say I'm not Dwight.

Say What?: Favorite Quotes

2008-04-16T21:35:00.002-04:00

I love Craig Wilson. In case you're wondering, he's a weekly columnist for USA Today. He's an older, out, partnered gay man with a largely female following, of course! Mostly musings on life, his columns don't always have a point- as such they seem like a friendly chat with your backyard neighbor, but they always make me smile. Today's column included this quote, which he identified as one of his favorites. I kind of like it, too.

"I know that you believe you understand what I said, but I am not sure you realize that what I said is not what I meant."

Check him out here. He's a wise man.

The Big Boy

2008-04-16T21:07:00.005-04:00

Today was the first time in a very very long time that I have been physically exhausted from working.

And I loved it. It was just what I needed. To be busy. To feel some control over my life, my actions, my destiny. It reminded me that I, too am a multifaceted individual, full of wit, wisdom, strength, gentleness, efficiency, and a unique brand of service that is mine alone. That my purpose in life is greater still, but at least, just for today, I let go and let my purpose be to keep things running smoothly.

Got a challenge? I'll take care of it. I can take care of almost anything. And if I can't do it, I'll find someone who will. One of my favorite qualities is how my spirit almost scientifically senses the stress levels of those around me, calculates, and does exactly the opposite. I am the gate keeper, the maitre' d, the guide. I facilitate learning. I facilitate work. I facilitate good cheer and attitude. I am effervescence. I light up the room. Always.

Poetry Corner: If

2008-04-13T00:10:00.006-04:00

The older I get, and the more elders I know and work with, the more I learn there's never really a point where maturity is reached. No one person has all of the answers. We're all deficient in some way, looking for those missing pieces; the ones that will make us men. (Or Women)

If
by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

The Last Temptations of Ryan

2008-04-12T21:47:00.006-04:00

This was an incredibly weird week. It seems I have shifted from being shown signs to being prompted to action. Of course, since it's me, I have to analyze the fuck out of the action before during and after. Things happened and things were said that have made me question well...everything. Except, I have this strange vibe that they're not necessarily warning signs- just tests of my mettle. Rites of passage? Maybe. One thing I know I want through this whole ordeal is that I want no (okay, as few as possible) regrets. I'm not sure that's going to happen. It's impossible to be "The Bomb" without having some shrapnel cut you too.

Let's start with Temptation #1.

There's more to the story I told the other day about the student who had been incarcerated. We sat in my office waiting for my SLOW computer to log on. Our IT guy says I have a "Big Profile," to which I say, "Thanks for noticing." I asked the student who had been in prison for ten years what it felt like being set free. I leaned forward in my chair, waiting for his inspirational tale to pour out of him. I was dying to hear how he spread his wings. It was palpable.

Except...

"I was terrified," he said, "My family moved down south. Everything changed in ten years. The clothes, what people were listening to, what they watched. I had no place to live. I didn't know where I would work or where I could even get a job. I had three meals a day in prison. I didn't know where I would eat now."

Not exactly the uplifting story I was hoping for. Now let's be clear; I don't see my relationship with Bruce as a direct link (clink?) to being incarcerated, but the parallels were there. Maybe the inspiration was that someone else had felt what I was feeling to a certain extent, anyway- that something so freeing on one hand could be so terrifying. "Buck up, Little Prince," the universe seemed to be saying, "This isn't going to be easy." Yikes!

Anti-Temptation #2

"You have really...intense expectations..." It's true. And I needed to hear it. Very very badly. I know I needed to hear it because it rocked me to my core and jarred me with it's blunt honesty. It could've been a little less "Nancy Kerrigan's kneecap" but I needed it. It wasn't what I wanted to hear, but it was probably one of the most honest, and- dare I say- loving things anyone has ever said. I needed to be reminded why I am really leaving. For me. There can be no expectations. There can be no safety nets. Mind you, this is in DIRECT VIOLATION of my romantic side. And that has taken a beating by big brother reality lately, but maybe, just maybe that's what growing up is all about. I thought about this one all week. One conclusion I came up with was, "Just when did I become such a whiny little bitch?" If I'm really going to run with the big boys, well, I'm gonna have to show more of my big boy parts than just...well...never mind. I think that's what Mr. So-and-So saw all along. I think that's where my true strength lies.

Couple that with this contrast for maximum effect:

Temptation #3

Bruce. Our bed. Him holding me. Whispering in my ear, "I'll always love you. Forever." The temptation here is, he means it. I second guessed for a day. It's true. I'll always be honest. Who walks away from someone who really, truly loves you unconditionally? Me. Oh, the devil was in the details in that one, let me tell you. It's this simple- I don't feel the same way. But damn, those words felt so safe and warm. And whiny and bitchy.

There is more to this, I feel it. I have to leave. I have to leave for me. I have to leave to be whole. I cannot stay because he is safe. In fact, I must leave because he is safe.

I need:
Growth
Challenge
Hardship
Fear
Perseverance
and finally...
Triumph

I think I always knew who I was. I just needed to prove it. Love, loneliness; whatever waits on the other side of that door- you know where to find me. I'll be at Carriage Hill Apartments.