a wrinkle in time

I wanted to kiss him so badly...

2005-12-09T16:06:00.000-05:00

This is an update of a previous post. I haven’t spoken or seen Shaun since that night but I finally relived that night and my post. Thanksgiving weekend was lonely, bleak and depressing but remembering that night helped me climb out of a dark hole.

I wrote the following after going out for a drink with my staff. I knew I had feelings for Shaun. I want him as a friend and I want him physically. Each drink got me that much closed to leaning over and kissing him.

Lately, I've been trying to convince myself that I could comfortably live the rest of my life without a boyfriend. Alcohol and writing are the two ways I honestly connect to my feelings and emotions. I try to avoid both.

**What follows is the translation of a drunken posting followed by the drunken post itself but there are parts I have no clue about. There were several places where the cursor jumped and lines were deleted.**

I wanted to kiss him so badly. I’ve always wanted to kiss him but never thought he would want me to…until tonight. He wanted me to come out and have a drink with everyone. Had anyone else asked I would have said no. But he seemed to want me to say yes…like he felt the same way about me as I did him. I’m his boss, even if he only works part time, it’s still an employer/employee relationship for me and besides I’m currently a UFO - ugly fat and old. I’m fat now with is why I feel ugly and old. Take away 50 lbs and I’ll just be 41 and not bad looking. I have always seen him as someone whose league I wasn’t in – I learned tonight that he has just lost 107 pounds – you’d never have thought it.

He’s handsome, accomplished and intelligent. Thanks to a little too much vodka my thoughts began to become dreams and hopes. I just wanted to kiss him. Our knees touched and currents ran through me. It seemed to be going that way...like he was feeling me out to see if I was interested. How could he have feeling for me? He shared things that were very personal, things you wouldn’t share with just anyone…it would have to be with someone you trusted, at least that’s how I took it but maybe it was the alcohol talking…for the both of us. I shared some personal thoughts as well but not all and I think we both pulled back realizing what we were doing…at least I did.

I would give myself to him but would I loose myself again? He’s a Christian who goes to church and does volunteer work there…he inspires me.

Going back to the hotel, lost in my thoughts and feelings about Shaun, I became aware that I was walking in the same area that I had been mugged in last year. I didn’t want to care but I guess I wasn’t quite drunk enough. I thought, “Someone please mug me!” The physical pain could replace my emotional pain. I was also was just drunk enough to feel and remember the longing to love someone, to be loved by someone, to touch, to miss to wake up with. I have to be accountable to the group, I have to stay in the moment and in touch with my feelings, I could loose myself but maybe to be aware of these thoughts, he is the person who wouldn’t allow me to become lost. I find myself connecting thoughts…if that makes sense.

God, how am I ever going to make sense of this tomorrow? If feelings are there when I’ve had too much too drink. Then my feelings are there. I continued drinking tonight to release that part of me that wanted to just lean over and kiss Shaun. But I never did. No matter the consequences I need to remember the feeling I had for Shaun, for me tonight. I want to be with someone...no matter the cost. Why else would I be surfing the web…and devaluing myself so that I can be with anyone, someone, who would want to be with me…desire me…touch me…even for a few hours.

I wanted to kiss him so badly. I’ve always wanted to kiss him but never thought he would want me to…until tonight. He wanted me to come out and have a drink with everyone. Had anyone else asked I would hav e said no. But he seemed to w3ant me to say yes…like he felt the sdame wqay about me as I did him. I’m his boss – of only hit aseemed nto be dgoing tghat wyasome and perhsoniable ansd funny apndt sjo ob but for me it’s still an employeer emplolllyI hacee relationship amd I’m currently anemmmmdm. I UFO at lehav ealways seen ahim as someone who swas t in myyemmy but no t onepossible bu eyes – ugly fat and old. I learned tongityht that he has just lost 107 pounds – you’[dt t onighnever have thout it. He’s handsome, accomplished and intelligent and t and a little to much vodka and my thoughts began to become dreams and hops. I just wanted to kiss him. Our knees touched and currents ran thourgh me. It seemed to be coing that way..like he was feelimg me out to see if I was interested. He shared things that were very personal things you wouold sharte with just anyone…it would have to be with someone you trusted and least that’s how I took it but maybe it was the achol talking…for the fothe of us.wouwlel.l..d trast him so fool. Hjow could he have feelings fI would giv e mysoerlf to him, and loose muse;f om me? He CjoiomoiWa,hristian felt his pain , sh who gto noighet s to chuI was aware that aI was walking in te same area that AI had/ beeatred some of min but not all, and I thing we both pulled back realizing what we were doing.n …he insmpires mec. ugged in not so long ago and tha t waw on a night that ai was sober and before easter and tonight I was rbych..something I can’t do myself but find atrtractive in others and and as helping me connect to that part ofnot wuite drunk but aware that I me could vbte hmugged again. Athe pain could rtplace my em potiiso nal pain missing,but I was aware enou loning. A hol;e. being ’h;elmd accountable to the groups.o St aying iin toncghomp[lete. He mitohment and intoutch hwith imy mfeel Io could loose myself but maybe to be aware of these tho he is the person who wonj’t al;low me to become lost. I find myself connecting orings.ughts…eif that makes sense.v God,e how am I ever going tro make sense of this tomorrow?n if they’re when I’ve had too much too drink. I continued drinking tonight to repress or release that part of me that wanted to just lean ove rand kiss shwun. No matter the consequences. I want to be with someone..;.no matter the cost. Why else would I be surfing the web…and devaluing myself to th point \that anyone , someone would be with me…desikre me…touch me.

I wanted to kiss him so badly

2005-10-28T00:49:00.000-04:00

This is an update of a previous post. I haven’t spoken or seen Shaun since that night but I finally relived that night and my post. Thanksgiving weekend was lonely, bleak and depressing but remembering that night helped me climb out of a dark hole.
_______________________________________________________________________

I wrote the following after going out for a drink with my staff. I knew I had feelings for Shaun. I want him as a friend and I want him physically. Each drink got me that much closed to leaning over and kissing him.

Lately, I've been trying to convince myself that I could comfortably live the rest of my life without a boyfriend. Alcohol and writing are the two ways I honestly connect to my feelings and emotions. I try to avoid both.

**What follows is the translation of a drunken posting followed by the drunken post itself but there are parts I have no clue about. There were several places where the cursor jumped and lines were deleted.**

I wanted to kiss him so badly. I’ve always wanted to kiss him but never thought he would want me to…until tonight. He wanted me to come out and have a drink with everyone. Had anyone else asked I would have said no. But he seemed to want me to say yes…like he felt the same way about me as I did him. I’m his boss, even if he only works part time, it’s still an employer/employee relationship for me and besides I’m currently a UFO - ugly fat and old. I’m fat now with is why I feel ugly and old. Take away 50 lbs and I’ll just be 41 and not bad looking. I have always seen him as someone whose league I wasn’t in – I learned tonight that he has just lost 107 pounds – you’d never have thought it.

He’s handsome, accomplished and intelligent. Thanks to a little too much vodka my thoughts began to become dreams and hopes. I just wanted to kiss him. Our knees touched and currents ran through me. It seemed to be going that way...like he was feeling me out to see if I was interested. How could he have feeling for me? He shared things that were very personal, things you wouldn’t share with just anyone…it would have to be with someone you trusted, at least that’s how I took it but maybe it was the alcohol talking…for the both of us. I shared some personal thoughts as well but not all and I think we both pulled back realizing what we were doing…at least I did.

I would give myself to him but would I loose myself again? He’s a Christian who goes to church and does volunteer work there…he inspires me.

Going back to the hotel, lost in my thoughts and feelings about Shaun, I became aware that I was walking in the same area that I had been mugged in last year. I didn’t want to care but I guess I wasn’t quite drunk enough. I thought, “Someone please mug me!” The physical pain could replace my emotional pain. I was also was just drunk enough to feel and remember the longing to love someone, to be loved by someone, to touch, to miss to wake up with. I have to be accountable to the group, I have to stay in the moment and in touch with my feelings, I could loose myself but maybe to be aware of these thoughts, he is the person who wouldn’t allow me to become lost. I find myself connecting thoughts…if that makes sense.

God, how am I ever going to make sense of this tomorrow? If feelings are there when I’ve had too much too drink. Then my feelings are there. I continued drinking tonight to release that part of me that wanted to just lean over and kiss Shaun. But I never did. No matter the consequences I need to remember the feeling I had for Shaun, for me tonight. I want to be with someone...no matter the cost. Why else would I be surfing the web…and devaluing myself so that I can be with anyone, someone, who would want to be with me…desire me…touch me…even for a few hours.

___________________________________________________________________

I wanted to kiss him so badly. I’ve always wanted to kiss him but never thought he would want me to…until tonight. He wanted me to come out and have a drink with everyone. Had anyone else asked I would hav e said no. But he seemed to w3ant me to say yes…like he felt the sdame wqay about me as I did him. I’m his boss – of only hit aseemed nto be dgoing tghat wyasome and perhsoniable ansd funny apndt sjo ob but for me it’s still an employeer emplolllyI hacee relationship amd I’m currently anemmmmdm. I UFO at lehav ealways seen ahim as someone who swas t in myyemmy but no t onepossible bu eyes – ugly fat and old. I learned tongityht that he has just lost 107 pounds – you’[dt t onighnever have thout it. He’s handsome, accomplished and intelligent and t and a little to much vodka and my thoughts began to become dreams and hops. I just wanted to kiss him. Our knees touched and currents ran thourgh me. It seemed to be coing that way..like he was feelimg me out to see if I was interested. He shared things that were very personal things you wouold sharte with just anyone…it would have to be with someone you trusted and least that’s how I took it but maybe it was the achol talking…for the fothe of us.wouwlel.l..d trast him so fool. Hjow could he have feelings fI would giv e mysoerlf to him, and loose muse;f om me? He CjoiomoiWa,hristian felt his pain , sh who gto noighet s to chuI was aware that aI was walking in te same area that AI had/ beeatred some of min but not all, and I thing we both pulled back realizing what we were doing.n …he insmpires mec. ugged in not so long ago and tha t waw on a night that ai was sober and before easter and tonight I was rbych..something I can’t do myself but find atrtractive in others and and as helping me connect to that part ofnot wuite drunk but aware that I me could vbte hmugged again. Athe pain could rtplace my em potiiso nal pain missing,but I was aware enou loning. A hol;e. being ’h;elmd accountable to the groups.o St aying iin toncghomp[lete. He mitohment and intoutch hwith imy mfeel Io could loose myself but maybe to be aware of these tho he is the person who wonj’t al;low me to become lost. I find myself connecting orings.ughts…eif that makes sense.v God,e how am I ever going tro make sense of this tomorrow?n if they’re when I’ve had too much too drink. I continued drinking tonight to repress or release that part of me that wanted to just lean ove rand kiss shwun. No matter the consequences. I want to be with someone..;.no matter the cost. Why else would I be surfing the web…and devaluing myself to th point \that anyone , someone would be with me…desikre me…touch me.

Click, click, click for World AIDS Day

2005-11-26T15:43:00.000-05:00

Light to Unite and Brystol-Meyers Squibb will donate $1 to HIV/AIDS Research

Dec 1st is World AIDS Day..

2005-11-28T14:27:00.000-05:00

In my prior post, I attempted to load a pic and link to the Light to Unite site but was only somewhat successful. The pic doesn't seem to come up but you can click the box and it will take you to the site.

Every time you click, you light a candle and Bristol-Myers Squibb contributes $1 to HIV/AIDS organizations up to $100,000. Don't let my bloggings skills stop you from clicking and be sure to spread the word. The site is active now and has had only 11,669 candles lit as of 3pm est. www.lightounite.org

This time of year always makes me kinda crazy...

2005-12-07T13:10:00.000-05:00

and it's not just because I make my living in retail. For years, people have complained about loosing the spirit of Christmas, that Christmas was too commercial. This year they've added the argument of saying Holiday vs. Christmas.
ENOUGH ALREADY!

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas or one I hear all the time at Safeway, "Have a blessed day." Doesn't it just come down to wishing others well - health, happiness, peace? Why make it so hard?

I think this year, more so than any year I can remember, it will be a very bleak Christmas or Holiday season. It will soon be one year since the tsunami hit and what American can forget the disasters of Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Rita, Bush, the Republicans and all our men and women of the Armed Forces in Iraq, Afghanistan and around the world?

I think many people will try to forget or suppress or deny or spend - at least for a little while - so they can be optimistic. Gas prices are down and heating bills won't have to be paid for another month or two. Hard to be optimistic and easy to be cynical if you think about it. What can you or anyone do?

You can remember the words and the spirit of MLK, "Keep hope alive! Keep hope alive!" We may not have peace on earth, it may be hard to find good will toward men/women but we can celebrate the possibility!

We can focus on the year ahead and how we can each do good in the world. It doesn't take a lot to effect change - pick up the piece of trash that missed the can, donate food, clothes or your time to a cause, buy one box of Girl Scout cookies, pick a charity that you can get the people in your office to support for the year. The list is endless.

This year, I have committed my stores to selecting a charity to partner with and help raise funds, awareness and volunteer for. It is their choice but it is a year long commitment. I am but one person informing, motivating and harvesting the talent, energy, and determination of the people in my 5 stores - altogether less than 75 people. In turn they reach out to their friends, family, community and our customers - altogether numbering in the tens of thousands.

What will you do to bring hope and light to others?

WE DID IT!

2005-12-02T12:17:00.000-05:00

Thanks to everyone who read my blog (and to those who didn't but still found the lighttounite site) and lit a candle. As of 11 am Dec. 2, 2005, 172,934 candles were lit which means Bristol-Myers Squibb will donate $100,000 to HIV/AIDS Research.

A special thanks to watercolourboy who, at my request, blogged about Light To Unite. I know with his readership many more people lit a candle to help find an end to HIV/AIDS. BTW - the link to his blog is over there --> as I yet to learn how to include links in my text. WCB is a great read with lots of eye candy and a taste of life in Canada.

You all deserve a pat on the back and a big hug!

xoxo

UPDATE!
As you can see, I have finally learned to include links. Yeah!

Opps...

2005-11-28T18:50:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure what I did but it's clear I made a mistake.

I hate them...

2005-11-06T17:21:00.000-05:00

I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. I hate my parents.

I think I have always hated them but it was only the other night that I realized it. I was in group and was hoping they’d help me find an emotional feeling/reaction/connection to my mom’s news that she and my dad were separated. Really they're just not talking but who knows with them. After 42 years of marriage they’re separated. My mom hasn’t told my dad yet.

“This is the last fucking thing I need.” “What the fuck is she talking about?” “How is separating going to change/improve their lives?” “ Now I’ll be expected to spend time with each of them. My dad barely see me when I go home as it is.” “My dad is 73 and mom is 65. What are they gonna do?” “I wish one of them would just drop dead.” Great thoughts, huh? They were the exact thoughts I had as I listened to my mom explain the events that lead to their “separation” over 2 weeks ago! This had happened over two weeks ago and this is the first I’ve heard of it. I guess that’s not so bad considering my dad still doesn’t know.

“It’s stupid.” “It’s ridiculous.” After a month and one group therapy session, that’s all the emotion I can muster. ANGER. Anger for what they’re doing/going/trying to do to me. Not them. ME. I actually do not care about them at this point. I don’t think I’ve cared about them for a very, very long time.

Anyone who knows me would say that I couldn’t possibly hate my parents, that I’m just upset and it’s easier to say I hate them then to deal with my true feelings. It surprised me to think that but it is how I feel. I hate them, I resent them, I hate how they raised me, I hate being their son and I especially hate that we are not the family I always thought we were.

Am I justified in hating my parents? Yes. Do I have reasons to hate them? Most people would think I don’t and that I should have my head examined for hating them. They did the best they knew how, gave me a good home, a good education and what they thought was love. I wanted for almost nothing. To most people I had an ideal family –two very loving and caring parents. Oh, and a younger sister. I don’t hate her and although we get along we don’t know each other very well. She was married and had 3 sons before she was thirty. I came out to myself at 31 and to my family at 35. Life styles and distance have kept us from knowing each other.

So why do I hate my parents? My father was an alcoholic from the time I was 4 until I was about 8 and was always working. He'd leave for work before I woke up, 5:30 am, and didn't get home until 8:30 pm five days a week and 7-4 on Saturdays. The hours he spent at home we spent either working or watching/sleeping in front of the TV. He rarely ate dinner with us because of his hours and because of his stomach condition (which I believe is mostly in his head.)

My mom did her best during the drinking years, but she turned to me, her 4-8 year old son, for emotional strength, support and company. As much as my dad shuns people and communication my mom is a caregiver to the 100th power, which she does to earn the love and respect she craves and deserves but it only earns her jealousy, disrespect and misunderstanding. My mom continues to turn to me for love, support and comfort to the point of manipulating me.

My parents excelled at shrinking their world of family and friends. My dad always used work and his bad stomach as his excuse for not going out and my mom trusted few people. They were never on time for anything and with every day that goes by, I become more and more the perfect blend of the worst of their DNA.

I think the first clue to how I felt about my parents was in a poem I wrote for a college writing course. I have always shied away from writing because it draws out the very thoughts and feelings I work so hard to keep buried. The poem had to be about our family and had to follow the style of a poem the professor had us read. My grandfather was strong like the sailing ships of the 1600’s. My grandmother sweet like the perfume she wore. I likened my father to a distant and cold handshake. My mom was like lace curtains in Ireland, they looked good, they impressed people but the curtains were misleading. In Ireland, lace curtains represented wealth but often behind them was a home too poor to afford furniture. My mom was always putting up an appearance that really hid the truth.

I don’t blame my parents, I just hate them. I hate how we never talked about my attempted suicide at 19. I hate that we never moved from the neighborhood that was filled with kids who tormented me. I hate that I don’t have more impressive/easier to understand/obvious reasons to hate them. I hate that I hate them. I hate that for so many years I thought of us as a model family. I hate that I thought we didn’t have problems. I hate how my coming out was delt with and then swept under the rug. I hate that I walked into the den that day and had to hear my mother say, “Tell him” and my sister said, with a red face, tears in her eyes and her future husband of 18 years and counting by her side, that she was pregnant. I hate that I didn’t hug my sister and tell her that I love her and was happy for her because it would have pissed my mom off. I hate the atmosphere my mom created in that room. I hate that as an adult I have been dependent on them for financial support. I hate that I will never tell them I that I hate them. I hate that when I go to therapy next week both in private and in group that I won’t be believed that it will be peeled back to reveal different deeper feelings. I hate that I will be talked out of hating my parents.

I hate that I feel better now.

Answer me this...

2005-09-04T22:26:00.000-04:00

Walking down the street a familiar, haunting and unnatural feeling returns. I knew it instantly. The last time I felt it was in the days and weeks following 9/11. Living about a mile from the Pentagon and having 100 or so friends and family living and working in NY, my day-to-day life was amazingly unaffected but my life in general was never to be the same again.
The skies emptied, the government closed, as did schools, malls and most means of public transportation. Streets were closed, soldiers were everywhere and the first thing I did in the morning was to either turn on CNN or log on to AOL to see if my world was shaken again – once a habit now a part of my life like brushing my teeth. As days became weeks and weeks became years I watched fear turn into frustration at increased lines at the airports and little to show for all the expense and attention. We were forever changed and forever left with that annoying scroll across the bottom of every news channel.
I imagine that the past week has been a sort of de ja vue of 9/11 for most of America. What Katrina has done is beyond imagination but fortunately we have the media and Internet to help us. I just feel numb. I want to talk about it and I want answers.
I don’t blame Bush, I really want to, but I can’t. I will blame him for depleting our military and National Guard to avenge his father’s loss but I think everything was done that could be done and no matter what the experts say about warnings and plans – nobody is ever ready for this kind of devastation and even the best plans need time to mobilize. In the months and years to come experts will argue how well we actually responded.
I don’t blame people for staying instead of following orders and evacuating. How many times has Mother Nature outwitted man? How about denial, lack of means and curiosity? All understandable reasons, all acceptable and all proven right more often then not.
I want a sociologist. I want to know why was there looting? I’m right there with them. After a few days I’d go shopping to but only for things to help me survive and definitely not on the second or third day and not tvs and guns – I might have to re-think the gun part. I don’t think there was looting because people feared for their lives – most of the stranded had no idea how bad their situation was.
I want to know why rescuers were shot at. I want to know why there have been rapes and murders. I want to know if looting, shooting, raping and murders happen in other countries devastated by earthquakes, mudslides, volcanoes and tsunamis or if this is an American reaction?
I’ve heard many stories of tragedy, horror and violence in New Orleans but I can’t recall stories about heroic actions or people banding together to survive. I’ve seen people waiting to be taken care of, whining and complaining. Demanding help as if it were owed to them. I don’t remember seeing people acting like that in other tragedies. Is this media bias? Color bias? Wealth bias? Class bias? In equally devastated but unequally covered Mississippi, was there rape, murder or gunfire?
For a week we’ve read, watched and listened to 20,000 people be rescued and relocated. Amazing! How people have the nerve to criticize and complain, I don’t know. However, New Orleans was a city of 480,000, what about the other 460,000? Where are they? Where will they go? What will they do?
In the aftermath of the tsunami, we had daily updates on the number of lives lost. Have American math skills sunk so low that we can’t our dead? Simple math tells us that 20,000 out of 480,000 is 4.2%. The most optimistic numbers would have 90% of the population of New Orleans evacuating. Where are the other 28,000?
Lastly, when everything you own is destroyed, what happens to your debt? Insurance will only pay for so much. Do you still have to pay your credit card bills, car loan, and mortgage?

You want fries with that?

2005-05-19T18:28:00.000-04:00

Can someone please explain to me why this finger in a bowl of Wendy's chili got so much press?

Today's headline read, “Conspiracy Charges Filed.” I couldn't ignore it, I tried but being an X-file fan, the word conspiracy had my mind spinning. Was this McDonalds way of boosting their sales? “Johnson, sales are down. You better do something to get sales back up or it's your job!”

Was it a new terrorist attack? “Foolish Americans, they waste all their money, time and resources protecting their airports, energy plants, political conventions and malls. But we will strike them where it will hurt the most – their waistline. We will bring down the infidels by sabotaging their big food companies. We'll bring down McDonalds, Coke and Checkers. Around the world people will fear finding left over parts of suicide bombers in there McFlurries, Whoppers, Mandarin Orange Salads, Dominos, cans of Lime Diet Coke and bottles of Yoohoo.”

Was it the Christian right? “Legalize same sex marriage? Never! Let's put body parts and bugs and hairnets in fast food restaurants and we'll blame the gays. We'll say that they are a threat and dangerous to the American way of life. The gays are trying to destroy the American family. If they can't get married then they'll attack the staple of the American family -- fast food.”

These are the things I think of when I read, “conspiracy.” What a buzz kill to read, 2/3 of the way down, that the new charge being filed was, “The Conspiracy to Commit Fraud.” Well, duh! They only thought of that now?

The article when on to say that this nut faces up to ten years in jail. Why? Why make us pay to house her, feed her and to be someone's lesbian sex bitch? Why not force her to work at Wendy's instead? She wouldn't get paid, couldn’t touch the food but she could go from one Wendy's to another cleaning out the grease traps, mopping the floors, cleaning the bathrooms. Or how about just forcing her to eat Wendy's for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next 10 years? Wait, forget that last one, America has rules about cruel and unusual punishment.

I'm hungry now. I think I'll go get some chicken mcnuckles and fries.

On a dime

2005-05-11T20:07:00.000-04:00

That’s how quickly things can turn. Usually we are more aware of life turning from good to bad but every now and then something as routine as walking your doggies can totally take you from the depths of a dark hole to the heights of a mountain top.

How I got in that hole is no surprise - work! Most days my job is 50/50; it's a rare day when I can't wait to call my friends or mother to share the joys of my job. On the flipside frequent are the calls that begin, "I hate my job!" I'm a District Manager for a company that sells various brands of men's clothes. As a DM in retail, I've got it easy here. I'm my own boss, I rarely have to travel, I almost never work more than 45 hrs a week, I actually have an office where I work from 85% of the time and my office is two blocks from my apartment. They sound like simple pros but in the life of a DM they are huge but then the cons are nicely sized as well. I get no feedback or real support, the people in the office really don't talk to/with me (not sure why), it's a small company so there's lot's of drama and most importantly the pay sucks.

So I'm walking my doggies, like I do 3-4 times a day, every day, it's about 11:30 pm and I have spent much of the walk grumbling about work, finding a new job, moving to another city and thinking about how Tuesday will probably be worse when we happen across some people gathered outside of the restaurant where they just had a great dinner. To say my doggies are cute is an understatement - and that's not just a proud daddy talking. Truvy is a small mixed female with a pug like tail and the face of a Chihuahua. She's a great dog, very cuddly, truly smart, and fiercely protective of her bones, has no fear of dogs (especially really big ones), will always bark at homeless people, is a lesbian and a Princess. No, she’s not spoiled. She’s entitled to the very high standard of living I heap upon her. I rescued Truvy from the shelter when she was about a year old; she's 3.5 years old now. My ex used to joke that she won the doggie lottery getting adopted by me but the reality is we both won, my jackpot was just bigger.

Tramp is my new boy who basically adopted my family. It was last Thanksgiving and it was pouring down rain. My mom had run to the store for some ingredient that was very important to the success of the dish. Already dressed up for the day, she made a mad dash from the car to the house. As she stood in the kitchen shaking the rain from her coat, in the corner of her eye she caught something moving and screamed! Mom spooks easily not because of nerves like some people but from her deep seated fear of bugs. It's the first thing her mind goes to, so when she sees something moving where nothing is supposed to move, she screamed. No one came running, we're all use to mom's scream, we simply called, "Are you okay?" Instead of the usual, slightly embarrassed (even after all these years and countless screams,) "Yes," this time it was, "Where did this dog come from?" What? What dog?

There, in the middle of the kitchen looking like a drowned rat was Tramp, all twelve soaking-wet-pounds of Cairn Terrier (like Toto in the wizard of OZ). We took him in, dried him off (I used my hair dryer on him), fed him, played with him and slowly fell in love with him. His fur is the color of wheat, soft and long and just beautiful. He's got a mischievous personality; a spark of trouble in is eye, a playful spirit and a lust to roam. He had a collar but no tags so there was nothing we could do that day but give him a safe, dry and warm home to stay in until we found his owners. Which we did about a week later but they didn't want him! "What? What kind of horrible, heartless people are you?" That's what I thought, what I said was, "Can we keep him?"

Tramp came back to DC with Truvy and me. (My parents live on Long Island in NY) I learned that his real name was Champion (Champ) and I knew it was fate that had directed him to us. During the week it took us to find his dirty rotten owners, I had named him Tramp because of the way he appeared and looked on that rainy day.

My, Oh so cute and adorable, doggies, elicit lots of attention and the diners fell under their spell. When we're out walking, tramp only has one thing on his mind, to keep going. He doesn't care about people; dogs get his full attention but people just slow him down. He has places to smell and trees to pee on. Truvy loves people and for some reason (she won't tell me) there are people she goes nuts for and this guy was one of them. His boyfriend just stood there and watched in amazement as cast her spell wagging her body, licking his face and holding his hand with her paws. He loved every second of it and of course wanted to know her name. Her name is Truvy, Miss Truvy to be exact (did you make the connections?). He looked at me, grew a big smile and began to ask, “From Steel Magnolias?” Yes. He let out one of the biggest, loudest girlie screams I have ever heard and continued laughing just as loud. After a few minutes, when we all finished laughing, we had started laughing at/with him, he went on to say how SM was his favorite movie, ran off all his favorite line and the conversation went on from there. We must have been there 15 minutes or more before we parted and I was no longer in that dark hole but somewhere on a mountain. The woes of work had gone to some far off land.

As we headed home, I noticed that a neighbor’s Peony’s had bloomed. I stopped and inhaled their light, sweet aroma. How wonderful. I realized that I was living in the moment and finally had some “Things I'm Great Full For” - my doggies, the diners, these beautiful flowers and Dolly Parton. I know I shouldn't have but I took a few of those flowers and put them on my desk. Shining lights in a deep, dark hole.

Excuses, excuses, excuses

2005-05-08T18:13:00.000-04:00

My last post was in March. I have many excuses for not posting - I changed the template and screwed the blog up, it took a lot of time to figure out (never did) and fix (finally). Then I wanted to add links, that took a while, then it was work and life and blah, blah, blah. Yes, lots of excuses, none of them good and only one true reason. Writing taps into my feelings...finding cracks in my walls of defense.

So I began to see myself as one of them -- that was back in March and I haven't changed. Still 220, still not exercising but still able to fit into the biggest size in a few of the brands my favorite store sells. I have begun trying -- watching what I eat. If you don't really try, you can't really fail and you only succeed by luck.

Motivation.
Depression.
Fear.

Summer 2004. As spring ended, and summer began so did my motivation. Not the same motivation most people have -- looking good in a swim suit, mine was about my 40th birthday and having to get my photo taken for my new license renewal. My weight line? The end of August. I was really successful too. I lost 30 pounds just by dieting. People were commenting -- it felt good. I was starting to catch men's eyes again. Fear.

Fear on many levels. My weight loss took away one of my excuses for not going out, for not meeting people and for not hooking up! No fat sex. I'm a face person, no "buttah faces" for me. He could have the perfect body but if I didn't like his face -- sorry. I my not want others to have sex with me when I'm "out of shape" but I don't see them like I see myself. As my weight came off and I looked and felt better, I was loosing my excuse to not meet people. So back the weight came. And that was okay because I had an excuse.

Stress -- things got way out of line at work and I wound up having to travel. I traveled for almost two months -- hard to stick to a diet when traveling, especially when in NY and your favorite food in the world is pizza. NY pizza. Good excuse and true but really it was the fear of getting close to people again.

I have yet to truly bottom out but maybe I won't have too. 41 is only 4 months away and counting. And by some stroke of luck, I am still HIV neg.

I'm one of them

2005-03-25T22:27:00.000-05:00

You see them everywhere. In the mall, at the ballpark, driving in their cars, walking down the street, everywhere. Who are they? How did they get like that? Why are they eating that? They don't need that. How could they let themselves get so big? Well, you are what you eat.

I'm talking about fat people. That's not the nicest way to say it but I CAN because I'm one of them now. I'm a fat person. Even today as I walked down the street, I thought the above thoughts to myself. I think we all do. While I would never say anything and I mean no harm in my thoughts, they are ultimately negative. I could understand not being thin, I haven't been "thin" since I was in the 6th grade, but how do you let yourself get to be 50, 100, 200 or more pounds overweight? Isn't there a point when you stop and say, "I don't need to eat this!"? If only it were that simple.

I'm 5'9" and for most of my life have been around 165 pounds. Not fat but although I was very active, I neither worked out nor did situps and I never felt comfortable when taking my shirt off, so I didn't and used my Irish skin and it's lack of tanning ability as my excuse. Oh how I wish I was 165 pounds again. The last time I was 165, I was single, 37 and on the verge of loosing my war with depression.

I wasn't over eating but I was hooking up online and drinking. I knew exactly what I was doing. First I'd go online and find someone, then while I was getting ready, I'd have a shot or two of Vodka. I only had one or two shots - really big mouthfuls poured directly from the bottle - because I had to drive to my hook up and I didn't want to drink and drive. I figured the 10-15 mins I needed to drive was too little time for me to be affected by the alcohol but enough for me to start relaxing by the time I knocked on the door. About halfway to my destination, I'd down another mouthful or two and then for good measure I did another two before I got out of the car. I didn't just was to be relaxed, I wanted to be numb. The more numb I was, the more control I gave up and, I know this for a fact, the better I was. And the better the sex felt to me.

I was doing this several times a week, mostly with regulars or fb's but there was usually a new one too. Whether or not they used a condom when they fucked me it didn't matter. Some would put one on, if they asked I usually said yes to put one on, sometimes I'd say "You're the host, it's your responsibility to give me the most pleasure you can" and then there were the ones who would "Press their Luck." First they'd press their hard cock up and down my crack, then, depending on my response, they'd press their hard cock on my hole seeing how far I'd let them push it in. The key to "Pressing your Luck" was moaning. Moaning and wiggling my ass. It was like saying yes without having to actually saying yes. When I topped I'd always press my luck and I always got lucky.

Hooking up and drinking and not caring about safer sex was just part of the picture. I also started putting myself into higher risk, kinky situations. Bondage, groups, ws, toys, whatever. I didn't say no. Like I said, I knew what I was doing, I just didn't think about the cause or about fixing it. I never felt better afterwards and even during I was never 100% free of the knowledge of what I was doing or why. Fortunately, this period didn't last long. On 12/30, I was hooking up for the third time with M who was into the kinkier stuff. On this night, it was to be M and his two friends. Play started right away. I got on the bed next to the other boy and our Sirs went to work. About a half hour into it, M removed the dildo and his cock from my ass and ordered me to the bathroom. I knew what this meant, ws, and I was forced to crawl my way to the golden shower. I guess I should have been more concerned about drinking and crawling then drinking and driving. It became obvious to M that I was not in a condition to be played with (a gentleman). Although I begged, he refused to let me stay. Talk about bottoming out. I got in my car, barely able to walk and started for home. On my way, I called a friend and drunkenly poured out my feeling. I scared the hell out of her. A few days later she told me that she ended the call hoping I would calm down and be more focused on the road. It did help a little. As I waited for a red light to turn green, I realized that I was at the Green Lantern. Two thoughts went through my mind 1. I should stop and sober up some, and 2. while I'm sobering up maybe I can still hook up. I did both.

I was about to leave when I saw him across the room. He looked like Tim McGraw but he wasn't looking my way. So I crossed the room and made a space for myself next to him. I still couldn't catch his eye and was about to give up. We were at the bar in front of the karaoke stage and someone was attempting to sign an Allison Kraus song. He was way off pitch making almost impossible to recognize. When it finally hit me I almost screamed, "OH, it's Allison Kraus." He turned my way and said, "Thank you. I knew I knew it but damn, he butchered it!" That was all it took. We locked eyes and in an hour we were fucking. But it didn't turn out to be a wham, bam thank you now leave. It was more like wham, bam and passout. He had had his share of drinks that night too.

In the morning, he made us a great breakfast (we were at his house) and we talked. I would have stayed longer but I had to get to work. It was New Year's Eve and I think we both thought but didn't say "See ya later?" so instead, agreed to call on the next day. 12/31/01 would be the last night I would sleep alone for over a year. We fell hard for each other and fast. He was amazing, sweet, funny, handsome, kind, generous, thoughtful and meeting him saved my life. I have no doubts that if I hadn't, I'd be dead. How I don't know but I know I would be. That fact always haunted my love for him. Did I love him for him or for being a hero and saving my life? I think it was a lot of both. I never told him what I had been doing the hours and weeks before I met him. I was too ashamed.

We had our first date on New Year's Day and were together every day and night for 13 months before I had a business trip that he couldn't join me on. Our 8th day together he told me he loved me, I told him I loved him too. Laying in his arms, I had been thinking that I was in love with him and then he said those three words. On the 10th night we were dancing and he told me, "You don't know this yet, but you're going to marry me." I replied, "Are you sure I don't know that?" Day 14 he did ask me to marry him and I said yes. On Valentine's Day, day 45, I got down on one knee in the restaurant and said, "One month ago today, you asked me to marry you and I happily said yes. Tonight, will take this ring and wear it as a symbol of our love, engagement and commitment to one another?" With tears running down both cheeks he nodded. I placed the simple sterling silver ring on the ring finger of his right hand and then handed him a small white box with a matching ring for him to place on my finger. We kissed and the room broke into applause. It wasn't a gay restaurant and we were the only same sex couple. I didn't know I had created a scene but the warmth from the room just added to the magic of the night.

It maybe too late to say it now but I didn't intend to get into all of that when I started this but it was necessary. When I came back from that business trip, I knew it was over between us. I didn't know why at the time but I knew. It took several months before I spoke to him about it. I thought the feelings would change, I thought that it was the depression distorting everything and that it would eventually go away and everything would be alright. It's what I wanted. It's not what happened.

P was so understanding. He helped me find a therapist and I started therapy and anti-depressants. It took about 10 weeks but one day I realized that I wasn't in pain. It was an amazing moment. For me, depression is painful and had been a part of my life since i was 10 or so. I never wanted to kill myself but you wouldn't hear me complain about being murdered, in a fatal car accident or getting cancer either. I didn't cry (which is actually a problem) or burst into fits of laughter. I just became lethargic as I had to summoned more and more strength to get through the day. To keep up the appearance that I was fine and everything was okay. To be what I thought people expected me to be. It was so tiring and so dishonest. All I could think about was how much better I'd feel if a red hot poker were thrusted though my eye and into my brain or some variation on that theme.

Fast forward to today. It's been almost two years since P and I broke up. Life is better but I still have a way to go. I now weigh the most I ever have, 220. The funny thing, funny hmmm not funny ha ha, is that I don't see myself as big as I am. I know how big I've gotten by the way my clothes fit and by my reduced fitness but the image of myself in my mind has me looking like I did when I weighed 165. Conversely, my mind's image of myself was closer to what I look like today. That was until I became one of them. The mind can play cruel tricks on us.

As I was walking to work in the snow this morning, venti white mocha with whip in hand, I caught my reflection in a store window, and thought, "Does that guy really need to be eating that?" That guy is me and I am huge. My reflection had matched perfectly with the guy eating on the other side of the window so it looked like I was eating that yummy donut. It was then that I became one of them. Actually, it was then that I saw myself as one of them. I had been one of them for quite a while. For the first time I saw just how big my 220 pounds is and how it looks to the rest of the world. Is this my wakeup call? Have I bottomed out? These questions are best left for the next entry.

Fembot - Move Over Sponge Bob

2005-03-13T21:41:00.000-05:00

I'm somewhat known for my "surprise adventures." I'm the oldest of over 30 grandkids, and am actually older by enough to be my cousins' uncle, even father. I also have three nephew thanks to my one and only sister. The youngest is Christopher and for some reason he loves his Uncle Sean. So today I surprised him with one of my famous adventures.

I live in DC but am working in NY for a few weeks so I get to visit my family on my company's dime. Since I'm here for and extended stay, I get to bring my dogs with me, Miss Truvy and the Tramp. Normally I'd walk them several times a day but my parents have a nice backyard so I let them go and be free. I tell myself that I do it for them, they love running free, doing their business when and where they want. Truth is, I like it. In on respect, having a dog in the city is like having a baby that never learns to be potty trained -- you are always cleaning up after them. Morning, night and late night, in sickness and in heath, on beautiful days and you get the idea. So instead of walking them and picking up after them 3 times a day, I get to do one massive cleanup every few days or when the snow is melted. But what are nephews for? Nephews and cash!

I got Christopher over on the pretense that if he cleaned up the backyard, I'd give him $5. He did a great job, earned his $5 and as I drove him home and past his house, he new his adventure was beginning. Where are we going? What are we doing? The excitement in his eyes and voice evident. The stuff memories are made of.

First stop? Burger King, his favorite place. Chicken tenders and a slushy, not the healthiest meal but then healthy meals are a parent's responsibility not a beloved Uncle's. As we drove around in my Jeep, in-between bites of chicken tenders and mouthfuls of French fries, Christopher thought we were playing 20 questions. He knows better - Uncle Sean tells no secrets but does tell lies. Finally I park the Jeep, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and began to walk. When we arrive at my intended destination a squeal of delight is heard throughout the land - Yes! Yes! Yes! Robots!

I had bought the tickets online and packed a backpack of his favorite snacks - Coke in a bottle, Skittles and Fruit Rollups. I included a Coke and Twizzlers for me. Very different for the General Tso's Tofu and egg rolls I snuck into the X Files movie.

So there I am having a great time with my nephew, being amazed by the imagination of these film makes and laughing to the point of tears at one of the best fart jokes told in years when current events crash my party. One of the lead characters, Fender, voiced by Robin Williams, keeps loosing his parts. He eventually replaces his legs with those of a female robot and there is where my party slowed down. I still enjoyed the movie, highly recommend it, but I started thinking about all the recent nonsense with Sponge Bob. Fender winds up in a skirt, doing a Brittany routine (no lip-synching) and declaring that he was slowed down by his Cha Cha heals! He made many more jokes and in the tradition of the best animated films, they were too subtle for kids to grasp but the adults got a good laugh out of them. So will Fender be outer or is he just a transvestite? I'm sure we'll hear some twisted thoughts. Someone should show these nuts some old films and TV shows with Bob Hope, Jack Lemon, Flip Wilson and Uncle Milty.

Our adventure finished with a drive down to the beach with my dogs and to watch the sun set. As Christopher repeated more lines from the movie then I could remember, I laughed with him and thought about the day when he grasps the subtly and then turns to his Uncle Sean.