starting to wonder

I think all things considered, this has been a pretty shit year.  Break ups, moving to multiple places, watching my cat go through some sort of personal hell, hating my job, moving my job, watching things end and begin or begin and then end... just shit.  Now with it being the end of the year, I am starting to wonder if these events will end when the clock strikes midnight or will they persist into 2012?  I don't know.  I wish I did, but I don't.  And obviously there isn't a single person out there who can answer because they don't know either.

Lately I've been feeling like I've been running blindly forward, doing the things I need to be doing and not trying to stray no matter how much I want to.  It's like I've run this path a million times before, I have yet to run it a million more, but right now the blinders are on and I am headed straight for a goal.  I don't know what that goal is.  I don't seem to know a lot lately.

What I can describe myself as, at least lately, is someone who is trying too hard.  Trying too hard to capture an elusive spark despite it fading continuously.  Trying too hard to hold on to some piece of the past that is long gone and has been for a long time, in the hopes that maybe by holding on to it the future will bring it back.  Trying to please the people around me but failing to grasp each one individually to make them happy.

I watch the people around me fail so often in the things they set out to do that I tell myself I will be different.  I build a reputation out of doing things the right way, doing them the best way, and proving in the process that I am in a kind-of-sort-of way, the best.  At what point though do you stand back and realize that you are pushing too hard for some things that just aren't going to change?  Or, rather, things that will change but have not yet reached a stage where they are ready to.  Take an egg from the heat of of a hen too soon and you have nothing but yolk.  Strain your noodles from the boiling water without waiting and find they are still tough and somewhat hard.

Can the same be said for thrusting a person into circumstances once familiar and yet completely different before they know they are ready, only to have it end in their own misery?

The only answer I can come up with is stay tuned.  Am I ready to give up on the things I have been working and trying for?  No, not really.  But I am reaching a point where I am losing sight of that goal, whatever it was, and considering slowing down.  Couldn't hurt... maybe it could.  Guess we'll see.

a day of thanks

Hey, yeah, sorry... it's been a while on here.  I meant to write about my trip to Texas, and never got around to it.  And then I meant to write about the fantastic happenings in my love life, and neglected to do that as well.  I'm sure I will soon enough, but first I wanted to take a moment to pump my thoughts out to the ether in regards to today, Thanksgiving, and to the deets as of late that currently bring me to my trusty laptop.

It's interesting to look back where my life was a year ago today.  Turkey day with the family, in love with the dreaded ex after 2 1/2 years of tumultuous ups and downs, getting ready to hunt for houses in a week or two, frantically beginning the process of painting pictures for Christmas presents and just on the cusp of a nasty bout of the flu.  The interesting thing is how this year reflects that and yet shows a different setting all together.  Turkey day with the family though no longer in love with anyone.  In the beginning stages of a new relationship that both elates and scares me at the same time.  No house hunting, but a calm determination on Christmas presents that currently reside on the floor in the corner of my bedroom.  I also just wrapped up a bout of sickness, though the sore throat still lingers.

I thought a lot today about what I am most thankful for and I feel that I am only now beginning to figure it out as my fingers dance across the keyboard.  I know most people say something totally self-deprecating like "I am so thankful for my family, without whom I would never survive!" or "I'm thankful for all of the little things God gives me, because without Him I wouldn't be the same."  I think my thanks are a little different from the norm because they go out to myself.  Of course I am thankful for the people in my life; my parents, my siblings, by friends.  Don't get me wrong on that.  However, I would be lying if I used them as a cover for the things I realized and understood this year, about myself and about the circumstances I found myself in several times throughout.

This Thanksgiving, I am most thankful for my intuition.  Without it, I would not be where I am today.  Without it, I would be living in a house that was broken from the start, with a man who was broken from the start, in a relationship that was broken from the start.  Without it, I would be staring blandly at the pages of my book and tinkering away with words when I could be out enjoying the company of a guy that for some odd reason, thinks I am special.  Without it, I wouldn't have given an airbrushed superhero a shot on Halloween for fear of disappointment in someone else.  I think that intuition gets everyone through the day; not your friends or your family, but you.  That little voice inside you that guides you along.  Obviously there are some of you that are just retarded and cannot function without the advice of those around you, but I must count myself out of that group.  I used to... but I found what I needed to and feel I can make decisions for myself without the input of the peanut gallery any longer.  Huzzah?

The interesting thing for next year will be to look back once again and see where I was.  Will I be in love again?  I don't know.  Will I be calm over Christmas gifts or losing my mind as I have in the past?  I don't know that either.  What I do know is that in 2011 I finally put aside the "other people" in my life and their feelings, and started paying attention to my own.  I don't think it's ever a bad thing to look inward at yourself and decide if you are pleased with what you've become... I also don't think it's wise to sit and pound one of these blogs out knowing you have to be in bed to work a 6 am shift for Black Friday in what is supposed to be a record-breaking year.  These sorts of blogs tend to be all over the place.  But what do I know?

I'm just a boy in a shop, after all.  Happy Thanksgiving (c:

a perfect date

Immediately as I type that title, I think of Cheryl in Miss Congeniality.  "I would describe the perfect date as April 25th.  Because it's not too hot, and it's not too cold; all you need is a light jacket."  Never gets old.

So today marked my 7th day of a 9 day stretch, which normally would have me clawing at the walls in an attempt to escape the store but this time, it doesn't.  For you see, dear reader, there has been a change in my world as of late, and no amount of work could exhaust me in my current state.  Last week I posted about my hero-filled Halloween adventures, a large portion of it having to do with a new found appreciation for the Green Lantern.  I mentioned that he and I had been talking a little more, and that was where I left you hanging.  Most of you probably weren't hanging, but I like to think I have an impact that profound, so just roll with it.

The Green Lantern, by the way, shall just be referred to as J from now on so as to a) grant him a certain amount of anonymity (saving me some typing time) and to b) save him from an onslaught of Facebook stalking. You know who you are, and you should know that I'm on to you!

J and I actually talked all week long... mostly all day long, every day.  Sometimes there were gaps of a couple hours, but never much more than that.  Lots of questions around things we liked or did not like, "what would you do if's" and of course the playful and flirtatious teasing that seems so customary.  Regardless, it all added up to such a strong curiosity that we devised a point system.  J kept telling me I was earning points, and I asked if I would be able to cash them in for anything, such as skittles or a hug.  He replied that skittles cost 5 points, and a hug cost a fair amount more.  As for an actual date, I had to keep growing my accumulating pool.  You may think I am dwelling too much on the points but stick with me, my story gets better.

Eventually we get to the point of wanting to meet for a coffee date.  J decided to cash in some of his points to earn the date, with the hope that his remaining points would multiply at said coffee date and would be enough to request an "official" date.  Long story short, we met for coffee Friday morning and sat for 3 hours and 50 minutes in Starbucks, talking.  And talking and talking and talking, and not realizing time had gone by so quickly until it was time for me to leave for work.  It was kind of amazing solely because I, who abide by the rules of time to a T, don't usually lose track of it.  And I did that day.

After the quick hug goodbye (I kept thinking "Sean, you didn't cash points in for this... make it fast so he doesn't notice,") he asked if he could take me on a real date.  I didn't really have to think before answering with a resounding yes.  So we set it up for Sunday night and that was that.  Friday and Saturday streaked by for me, but Sunday was awful.  The morning was fast, sure, but then I took my break and time seemed to stop.  I can't really describe it as nerves... I think part of me was still thinking that he would take me to (insert-common-restaurant-here) for dinner and then off to the movies.  Because that is what happens on every first date, right?  Dinner where you can make small talk and get to know each other just enough to decide if the other is fucking crazy or not, and then a dark theater where you can possibly hold hands and rub knees.  Kiss afterwards, drive home, and then wait and see if it blows up or goes on.  These nights often result in me rolling my eyes multiple times (without being seen) and then getting annoyed with SOME sort of detail about the guy.  Once that detail had to do with a weird wrinkle between someone's eyes (not naming names,) and another time it had to do with someone who didn't have finger nails on three of his fingers, just skin.  True story.

J didn't abide by that logic.

I changed my clothes quickly at the store to amp up my look (a white button-up, army green tie, my skinny jeans and a dark brown corduroy blazer, natch.)  Having that finished, I gave myself the once-over and then marched out, head held high, guard somewhat raised as to what the evening would entail.  J was waiting outside the store for me, with a bouquet of flowers and roses in his very capable hands.

I don't have any problem in revealing here that every guard I had instantly crumbled in that instant.  The blush was like a warm wave that washed through my cheeks, and the smile on my mouth could not be contained.  I hugged him and accepted the bouquet, wondering how wrong I was in my assumptions.  Seriously.  You can say and do a lot of things but inside you know better than anyone what your doubts are in other people and you alone know how, for some, it takes a lot for them to prove themselves.  How had he proved himself in that one, simple gesture of flowers?

Because it had never happened to me before, that's why.

After dropping my belongings off at the Jeep, I grabbed a CD I had made him and just decided to give it to him right away.  I had said I would give him my "gift" if he played his cards right, and in that moment I didn't think it would get any better.  The CD wouldn't play in his car, which was fine by me because my mind was still stuck in a vortex of wonder and I didn't think I could handle explaining my song choices and why they were amazing.  I don't mean that how it sounds, lol; I personally loved the songs I put on, that isn't to say they are the best songs ever made, but I digress.

We take off in the car and J's GPS is leading the way.  I have no idea where the hell we are going because I don't know shit about Green Bay, and neither does he, coincidentally.  I keep throwing out random guesses about the date (which I had been doing since the date was made (including but not limited to a helicopter ride, being picked up by a jet on the mall roof, leaving the country, or at that point in time, being murdered in the field behind a Mobil station.))  After only a few minutes we pull up outside this huge building, get out of the car, and J tells me he brought me a sweater to wear because I might want to change.  IMMEDIATELY I am skeptical; change my clothes!?  This outfit required thought!  So he reaches in the back seat and pulls out a grey, woolly-looking mock-neck sweater that buttons up at the top, and I decide it is cute and a healthy alternative to the look I am presently rocking (despite the wind fucking up my hair royally.)

Walking toward the building, he asks if I know what we are doing, and I reply that no, I do not.  And then I see the words on the small-ish sign in front of the building.

"Are you taking me ice-skating?"  He nods with that gentle grin.

Ladies and gentlemen, let me stop you right in your tracks because in my mind, I froze.  Everyone has an image in their mind of what a perfect date is.  You might not tell people what your idea is, but you have one formed in a very careful, perfectly devised way.  You know how you would want to feel, you know how you would want it to play out, you know what each step of the way would be.  I myself have never verbalized my idea of the perfect date because to me, it was not something a random guy would think about, let alone have the courage to do.  I have always wanted to be surprised on a first date by being taken ice-skating, and that is the absolute and honest truth.  Whether J believed (or believes) me or not, he could not have possibly hit it any farther out of the park than he did in that moment.

First we couldn't find where you could rent skates for the rink.  Then we found it, and they only accepted cash.  So J gets cash, we return, and discover they don't have size 13 monster skates for my boat feet, so I take a size 11 ("They run big!" says the girl) and hope to CHRIST that they fit.  They don't, and trust me, I was trying pretty desperately to shove my feet in them.  Head hung low, thinking I have ruined this perfect attempt at a date, we return the skates to the girl.  She then says she has a pair of figure skates in size 13, and if that was okay, I could try them.  What the fuck do I care?  I've never worn a pair of ice-skates in my life, like I would know the difference between figure skates and hockey skates?  Pfft.  I'm almost shaking in excitement as I get them laced up, knowing that J's plan will go through as intended.

My feet felt like rubber on the ice, and I clung to that railing for dear life right away.  I thought about letting go of the rail after a couple laps, wondering if I trusted myself in that I knew what I was doing.  That thought process extended beyond the railing at that point, however... it transcended through me and into my very core.

Did I trust myself enough to let go of my inhibitions, to realize that I had come to terms with my past in what was really just 8 months?  The dreaded ex moved on within days but for me it seemingly felt like an eternity.  There were plenty of sleepless nights, there were plenty of conversations with Katie Reynolds asking "why is it so easy for him?"  I knew eventually the day would come where I'd realize that my goal the whole time had been to find myself once more; it wasn't to figure out why I wasn't enough for the dreaded ex.  The point in being "enough" for someone else suddenly seemed lost to me.  When that moment of realization came, it was magical... it is breathtaking... because it finally dawned on me that I had indeed found myself once more; that the person I had always been never really left.  And someone else was finally noticing me for me, not the circumstances surrounding me.  I let go of the rail.

If I had to follow that with a quote, it would be from Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield.  "Release your inhibitions; feel the rain on your skin.  No one else can feel it for you, only you can let it in."

We skated together for an hour.  Or maybe it was less... for the second time in three days, I lost track of time.  The conversation never stopped, it never hindered.  It flowed as easily as the blades on our feet cutting across the ice.  After skating we went to dinner at HuHot, which I thought was funny (in my head) because it was where the dreaded ex and I were supposed to go on our first date so long ago.  It didn't work out that night, we (actually, I,) had to rethink it all and find another restaurant.  What I found interesting about J was that, like the dreaded ex, the first event of the evening (skating) was nearly thwarted by external forces.  Unlike the dreaded ex, however, J overcame these odds and persevered.  And it was fantastic.

We switched cars from his to mine after dinner, and I drove us to Aloft for drinks at the XYZ bar (seeing as it was only 8:00.)  We played a rousing game of chess, sipped cocktails, and just talked.  And it was the simplicity of those details I am still reliving in my mind.  I wanted to use some of my points to have him over for a movie date sometime soon, which he agreed to.  Eventually, though suddenly when it happened, I realized it was nearly midnight and that our evening should draw itself to a close.  I drove us back to J's car, then said I would walk him to his door.  Mostly because I am a loser like that.  We said a few words of goodbye, planned on a second date, and then I did what I had been planning on doing all night.

I asked if I could cash in some more points.

"Sure."

I asked if I could kiss him.  That gentle grin took shape.

"Yes."

And I did.  And it was great... it was fantastic... it was the perfect end to what will go down in my head as, unequivocally, the most perfect date I could ever imagine.  I probably won't write about the details of our next date, or any of the others after that if they indeed do happen.  My reason in writing this blog tonight was to enlighten you, my friends and my family, that change for the better can happen.  That people can slip through the cracks.  How, when you see the world crumble around you and wonder how you are ever going to pick up the pieces again, sometimes all it takes is a super hero to reach for your hand.

To quote J, AKA the Green Lantern, from his Facebook post following our goodbyes: "I love point systems!"

I love point systems, too (c:

Goodnight everyone.

my hero-filled halloween 2011

There are all sorts of memories for me that come with Halloween, or all Hallow's Eve, or Samhain if you wanna link it back to the Gaelic harvest festival.  A lot of them were overshadowed by the success of recent years in the form of over-the-top costumes and even bigger parties.  But the original memories remain, and seeing as I've been so nostalgic this year, I spent a good portion of today thinking about them while I was alone at home.

The farthest back I can remember in terms of costumes would be when I was Peter Pan... for the first time (I did it twice.  I liked the tights.)  My siblings and I grew up in a family that paid a lot of special attention to Halloween, and with a mother that was always willing to sew our costumes together for us.  Come to think of it, I don't believe I have ever had a store-bought costume (in terms of "here is the costume, all in this bag.")  There may have been some hunting at Goodwill involved, but it was always a mash up of products to achieve the final look.  I even remember dressing up as Ron Goldman when I was 11, and if you don't see the problem with that, then you don't know who he was.

The first time I wore drag was in 8th grade, with my lovely best friend Katie Reynolds.  I was a dead prom queen from the 80's, with lot's of blood and bullet holes.  Got a lot of references to Carrie that night, which was fine by me.  I figured if I wanted to get away with drag at age 13, I needed it to be gory.  The next few years were nothing incredible though, and not until Halloween of 2005 did I do drag again and that was the first "big" year.  Chicago with my bestie Kyle Conn, and I did Paris Hilton.  Covered myself in bronzer, shaved my body, had a BAD wig, and tried to rock it.  Didn't work; ended up passing out in Kyle's bedroom after topping off a sixer of... wine coolers.  Shut up.

So let's just flash forward with a quick blurb about this years costume, and then I'll get to the weekend.  Back in April I decided I was going to be Babydoll from Suckerpunch.  I knew it was a risk to be the main character from a movie that was such a failure and that no one saw, but I figured I'd be the only one (and I was) and that I would get points for another homemade costume.  Bought the fabric (over $100,) bought the wig ($35,) bought the shoes ($30,) bought the sword ($15,) and then got to work with my mom.  And giving credit where credit is due, she did a hell of a job on the jacket and constructing the skirt (though I did all of the pleating myself.)  So there, costume done.  Cost too much, but oh well; sue me.

I was able to enjoy a 3-day weekend this year, which was pretty fantastic.  What's funny is that right now, I honestly cannot remember what I did on Friday.  Like, at all.  That doesn't matter because it wasn't a big day, but I did go to sleep feeling like the next day was Christmas.  I woke up on Saturday and doddled around the house for a bit, harassing my parents and then getting to work on carving pumpkins.  Mom and I carved 9 all together, 5 for her and 4 for me, though one of mine was not grown at home and took FOREVER to cut through the rind.  After that, I had to retire to my bathroom to begin the arduous process of shaving my chest, stomach and legs.  Oy.

So an hour and lots of lotion later, I took it easy for a bit before the 3-hour ordeal of getting my makeup on commenced.  It started with covering my thighs with concealer and toning them, and then my stomach with concealer and toning it, and then by chest and toning it.  Finally I could start my face.  I enjoy looking back on  pictures from past Halloween's and seeing how far I have come in terms of my makeup application.  As Paris Hilton I looked like Courtney Love.  This year... I feel I finally struck the right note, confirmed by my mother saying as I came downstairs "Oh God, you really look like a girl."  Had a little trouble with the eyelashes that didn't want to stay glued to my fucking eyelids, but then I got my hair up, wig on, and was out the door to head to my bestie (yes another) Mark Plowman's house for dressing up and a prebar.

After a quick stop at Matt's house to setup for the party I was co-hosting with him, I shot over to Mark's and threw my costume on.  To be honest, everything came together in a way that I never imagined.  It was better than I anticipated and as soon as I got the wig on, I knew I would look exactly how I wanted.  Which was pretty great, due to the more-than-normal amount of skin I was showing and the very nature of the character. So we had a couple drinks and headed over to Matt's house.

The party was fun, though admittedly we only stayed for a little while.  My prebar drinks hit me pretty hard and my eyelash was falling off so I needed to fix it before too many people saw me looking like I had down syndrome.  My friend Cale, henceforth referred to as Superman (his costume, duh,) wanted to introduce me to his friend the Green Lantern, but we left before he arrived.  Here's where my night started getting better, which you may find odd; read on.

After crawling around on the floor of Matt's porch to turn off my fog machines, ass in the air and sword catching the spider webs, we left the party.  Mark, his boyfriend Markus, our friend Leslie and I trotted down the front steps and across the street.  Me, in my drunken stupor, decided to drop my voice a few octaves and belt out the main chorus to "Lady in Red."  As I sang "REEEEEDDDDD!" I did a high kick, felt my shoe slide out from beneath me, and then sort of careened backwards and sideways down into the gutter.  Mark turns to me, laughing and screaming "BUNS!  ARE YOU OKAY!?!?"  I am laughing so hard at this point that I can't breath, so I start nodding while peeling myself off the ground.  I think I was muttering "shit, I have leaves in my hair," but that part is kind of blurry.  I almost wiped out again next to the car but thankfully avoided that.  I will say I am glad I fell on my ass at that point, rather than in front of the bar where more than just my friends would see me, ankles to Jesus.

So back to Mark's house we went, I fixed myself up, we took a few pictures, and then headed out to the bar.  This was when I realized my camera's flash was not working, so I was fairly devastated to know that there would not be a full photo album of the evening.  Maybe it is better that way, because part of the adventure this Halloween entailed still feels like a dream to me... in a good way.  We get to the bar, order up, and after about half an hour I run into Superman.  He says his friend the Green Lantern is there and that I need to go and meet him right then.  I rolled my eyes to Mark and whoever else was around, knowing full-well how this was going to go.  "Fuck my life, I am dressed up as a (with heels) 6'6" school girl with a sword strapped across my back.  Great time to meet a guy, shaved as bare as the day I was born."

So Superman waves him down, Green Lantern turns toward us, and my stomach drops.  This is the guy he wanted me to meet for so long?  This... well he embodied a superhero, to say the least.  He comes over, says hi, and I think I just started talking a mile a minute because that's what I do when I'm nervous and slightly intoxicated.  I'm feeling around with my hand behind my back, realizing as I grab my scabbard that the sword is missing.  With a quick glance over my shoulder, I confirm it; someone stole my sword that I had customized.  Again, my stomach drops, and Green Lantern seems to notice the sadness.  I mention the sword, we talk a few minutes longer, and then one or both of us gets dragged away.

No more than twenty minutes later, the Green Lantern manifests before me... and in his hands is my sword.  I won't go into the details of every thought that ran through my mind, but I will say that they were nothing less than fantastic.  They were... I'm sure you can fill them in, actually.  He was officially my hero for the night.

The night wears on; I don't get to take or be in any pictures, I run into Kyle Conn and adore his Peg Bundy costume, and then it is time for the costume contest.  Sadly I didn't get nominated, but that's okay because you can't win all of the time.  Green Lantern, however, wins second place.  Which I feel is a better prize because it is a bar tab and not the keg party; coincidentally, it is the same position I won two years ago as the gals from Hocus Pocus with Kyle and the dreaded ex.  But I digress.

The night is almost spent, it's about 1:50, when Superman shows up again and says "Hey, Green Lantern is on the dance floor.  Come with me."  With a nervous glance to my friends who are quite literally screaming "GO!" I turned and followed, skirt swaying with my ass.  I approach, find myself at a loss for words only to have Superman exclaim "I found Babydoll!  I love awkward situations!" and then turn away from us.  So we danced a bit, we talked a bit, and my curiosity finally got the best of me and I vowed I would add him on Facebook.  I had to add that because the time had come to leave... much as I didn't want to.

So we left, the night eventually ended, and Sunday was a blur of pizza, movies, and work meetings.  But I did get to talk to the Green Lantern more... by a fair amount.  Today was a very low key Halloween, but it was a great one.  It got me to see that everything that had a beginning certainly has an end, that time does heal all wounds, and that the dark part inside of me, void of life for so long, finally had a spark set off.  What is it that he says?  I never saw the movie.  Oh, that's right.  "In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight; Green Lantern's light."

Light it up.

El fin.

silent appreciation

Tonight is a tricky subject, and thus, a tricky blog.  I think I can only accomplish the task of not being found out by my secret admirer, er... guy I am secretly admiring, by relaying my story with some clever rhetoric and fancy footwork.  By footwork I obviously mean a certain level of genius with my words.  Regardless, I may put on a grand show of throwing my thoughts and feelings out for the world to see, but there are certain things that stay close to my heart.  Some of you may know this, some of you may have assumed this... and I am very aware that we are often defined by what we do as actions speak louder than words.  Maybe someday I'll get the nerve to turn these words into action for that one person.

That one person.

Ever have that?  Ever set your eyes upon that guy... that one guy that kind of made time slow down but caused your heart to double the pace?  You weren't sure if it was his looks alone or something more profound, you just knew it was "there."  You couldn't quite set your finger on it.  Over time you found that this person really was someone different from the rest, a cut above if you will.  You started to wonder why you two weren't together, why you never were, and also why you never seemed to be the one that was lucky enough to catch one like him.  If not him.

I had that... have that, whatever.  Have that.  It isn't very fun, but only because I've started seeing it at a losing battle.  And while I know that love should not be viewed as a battle and that it should be a joyous thing, I have to disagree because I was in love once.  I think it's safe to say that everyone and their mother knows about that and how it ended, but I'll just say one thing in regards to it; there are casualties when it comes to love.  People get hurt very badly, and I did as well.  I didn't die as I thought I would, obviously, but for a while it felt like I was dying.  Then I started coming out of it, and started realizing that that "one person," ever elusive to my wants, was still around.

Here's a little about that one person, though (hopefully) nothing so specific as for him to realize "holy shit, Parker wrote a blog about me."  We've know each other for a long time.  Not a lifetime, but more than a couple years.  Always been cordial, but in the last few years grew just a small amount closer.  Nothing HUGE, but certainly more than something small.  We would see each other out and about randomly, though usually with someone in tow that stopped us from talking too in depth.  To me it always felt like a casual flirtation that never bordered on anything that would break the rules but was always juuuust enough to get me thinking.  Wondering, actually, as to what it would be like to be his.  I think the goal of admiring someone from afar is to be claimed by them, right?  Not in a weird or gross possessive way, but to know you are theirs (and they are yours) and you have attained your mission.

My feelings, however unfounded (and they were most often unfounded,) seemed to gestate and grow stronger despite how futile they were.  Then, suddenly... I was single; it was actually okay to feel that way (eventually when I started feeling again.)  I suppose we as people keep things on the back burner to sit and simmer throughout life, never knowing when the right time is to set them to cool or to turn up the heat.  I think someday I will make my move, and turn up the heat, but that does seem slightly unlikely.  I tend to discount my self-worth quite often and I'm not sure why that is, though I assume it has to do with being cheated on more than once.  I do think, however, that anytime you are interested in someone who you are mostly certain does not share the same enthusiasm toward you, you put yourself down in a sense.

I tend to find that through inaction I succeed in my endeavors.  Not usually in the way I wanted, but in a way that satisfies me.  Because I am a firm believer in good things coming to those who wait, I see no point in not being patient.  Either he will realize something about me that he was missing, or maybe I will move on and he will always be that "one person" who I just couldn't reach.  Either way, I wanted to end this with one of my very favorite quotes.  It came from (sigh) Smallville... and a girl said it... but I felt with a little editing it rang true to my circumstances:

"I want to let you in on a secret; I'm not who you think I am.  In fact, my disguise is so thin I'm surprised you haven't seen right through me.  I'm the man of your dreams, masquerading as your friend.  Sometimes I want to rip off this facade, but I know that I can't because there is the chance you will run away.  So I've decided it's better to live with a lie than expose my true feelings.  I've been told that there are two types of people; the ones you grow out of and the ones you grow into.  I really hope I'm the latter.  I may not be the man you love today, so I'll let you go for now, hoping that one day you'll fly back to me.  Because I think you're worth the wait."

Am I in love?  No, of course not.  There are details about this guy that I don't know, and I am sure there are details I wouldn't be thrilled with.  But the things that I am already thrilled with are the things that I know about... that I have seen.  And they are worth a lot more than throwing caution to the wind and keeping it all, or at least this much, bottled inside.  Hope you're all having a good night; I'll try posting something absolutely HIGH-larious next time.  Toodles gang (c:

what once was

I want to write and I want to say something but I don't really know what it is that I want to say.  A small part of me wants to scream at the tops of my lungs right now and another part of me wants to turn the light off and just go to bed.  Why is that?  Two feelings/emotions that are completely at odds with themselves yet seem to make perfect sense given my current situation and present circumstances.

I think it stems from being uncomfortable with my living situation.  I love living with my parents... I love being able to see them everyday and visit with them and get to know them, but at the same time I took a huge step backwards when I moved home.  I spent two years away from the nest, having moved out when I was 23.  My goal had always been to move out and never have to move back in again, but I guess the mistake was that I moved in with my ex Ken, full knowing I would never be able to afford the rent/utilities on my own.  After those two years he just couldn't keep his junk in his pants any longer and the harsh reality of the situation was that because of him, I wouldn't be able to live on my own anymore.  I hate him for that.

What makes this predicament increasingly difficult is that I look at these apartments on Craigslist and just grimace at the pieces of shit they are.  I lived in two nice duplex's.  The first one, on Greenlawn, kinda sucked because it was made shitty and only looked nice if you squinted.  It was our first place, so of course it wasn't perfect.  But the duplex in Wrightstown?  I loved it.  I loved everything about it (except for how far from Appleton it was.)  That place was gorgeous, looked gorgeous with my stuff in it, and held a lot of happy memories.  I remember moving into that duplex and feeling like I was finally an adult.  Oh well; it's hard to resign to the fact that you can't afford something fancy on your own, and that the thing you CAN afford on your own doesn't scream your name or show your personality by any means.  If I had the savings I would just buy a house, but even that isn't true.  Buying a house means I am tied here, and that is the last thing I want.

Right now what I want to do is pay off my bills, take a trip out of the country, and then come back and let shit get real.  Buy a new car, figure out my life, get a move on.  If anyone has any tips or tricks on how to do this, I am all ears.  Really, I am.  I think a lot of it is just getting of my ass and figuring my life out.  Stop feeling guilty for not making everyone happy and just work on making myself happy.  Sounds selfish, but can you think of a better reason to be selfish?  Making yourself value things once more even if it means pushing other, less pressing matter (i.e. people) to the side?  I don't think so... but if so, good for me.  It'd be about time.

Funny that I didn't think I would be turning to this blog so quickly to get my thoughts out of the ether I call my mind.  Clever me.

that thing called inspiration

I know that 99.9% of the questions I can ask on here are entirely rhetorical, seeing as you the reader don't have much of a way of replying to me the writer, but I want to ask questions anyway just to get that big 'ol ball of thought rolling.  What inspires you?

I think it would be ignorant to say that only creative people are inspired by the world around them to do creative things.  Saying that would imply that any of you "non-creativors" (I will now trademark that phrase, natch,) see beauty or magnificence in the world around you and feel nothing, when in fact that cannot be true.  I don't know in what ways a non-creativor would be inspired to do something, but maybe it is as simple for them as "I am going to organize my desk," or "I am going to call so-and-so because it's been a long time."  I'll let you know what inspires me and what it makes me do.  RE: my magical abilities and how they unfold.

Everything inspires me.  Surprise!  Actually everything would be... everything, so I'll narrow it down.  I think my biggest inspiration comes from watching movies.  And it won't be every movie that comes along, but a select few that really get me to think.  For example, last December after I saw Tron: Legacy with my bestie Mark Plowman, that got me to run my ass home and start pounding out some chapters on my second book.  A year prior, Avatar did the same thing, only that sucker made me bust a move on the finalizing of book I and I powered through that sucker for three months straight.  I don't know what it is about a good, solid movie that can get me to start feeling and thinking about things with such clarity that I feel I can do anything.  Shows the mark of a good director, I suppose.  I remember seeing Inception and walking out of that theater just being wowed with everything around me, much like I was when I saw The Matrix with my brother Josh back in 1999.  Creativity is such an amazing thing, especially when it is explored by someone else in a good way.  That being said, your own creativity should always be pretty fucking amazing as well.  I sat down to edit some of book III today and was honestly impressed by some of the work I had pumped out.  Not to toot my own horn.

It isn't just movies that inspire me, though that is a large part of it; a lot of times it will be music as well.  I could go on and on about music, but I'll save that for another day.  For right now, I am just curious how many other people can hear a verse or a line in a song and have it resonate within them on a deeper level?  For example, we recently started playing a song at work called "Yellow" by Cocknbull Kid.  I have NEVER heard of this chick before, but one of the lines in the song is "I don't want to regret a life that hasn't happened yet."  Those words are like poison to someone who has been contemplating their life lately and where the hell it is going, if anywhere at all.  I hear those words and think so hard about what I want to do and how I can do it, because that is my greatest fear.  I don't want to waste my life... I don't want to regret a single moment of it.  So far there have been a few regrets, but they are far between and I am beginning to see how they have shaped me.  Better or worse, that's up in the air still.

Outside of music and movies, there are the everyday things.  The people that inspire me with their own creativity, like Caitlin and Shannon.  The people that inspire me by their bravery and optimistic outlooks like Katie and Kyle.  The people that make me laugh like Mark.  There are a million quotes about friends and what they mean and all of that, but there is only one that I have always remembered vividly.  Marcel Proust said "Let us be grateful to people who make us happy.  They are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."  Well put, Monsieur Proust.  And very true.  I wouldn't trade in any of my friends for anything in the world, because they are the net I have constructed that catches me when I fall.  And sometimes I fall a lot.

Finally there are the day to day things that go unnoticed for the most part but can make a big impact if you know where to look for them.  I found myself incredible bored about a week ago when I had the day off.  No one was home, so I went out to the back of the property with a blanket and laid down next to the corn field in the sunlight.  The wind was rustling the corn stalks which were ready to be cut down and the air was warm.  It was one of those content moments where no, it did not inspire me to paint a picture of write a new chapter, but it inspired me to take the time to appreciate the things around me.

To slow down, stop rushing, and just let life happen in that easy, effortless way it tends to achieve.

We should all be so lucky.

that restless feeling

I don't know if this ever happens to anyone else, though I assume it does because to think I am one of a kind in some areas (as opposed to all, because if everyone is special then no-one is,) would be just silly.  Lately I have had a problem with turning my mind off, namely at night.  Obviously not in the sense of "hey mind, turn off," but in the way where you lay back for bed, close your eyes, and memories/thoughts/ideas/feelings just start zoom-zooming around your consciousness like those hicks at the Daytona 500.

A large part of it stems from the relics of my past, namely those regarding my ex Ken and all of the drama, nay carnage, I endured.  A few nights ago I thought that I could help myself fall asleep by playing some music.  I mean, that's the precise reason one of my iTunes playlists is "Of the Most Soothing," right?  So I plugged my iPod in, hit play, and let the music do my thinking.  Fairly quickly I realized my mistake because a song came on that essentially catapulted me back to the beginning of my relationship with Ken, when it was still good.  So that kinda blew.  Most days I am just fine if I have to think back on the "things that were," but every now and then something will creep in under the radar and really throw me into a funk.

It's easy for me to be sad about what happened, but in that same regard, it is easy for me to be happy that it is over.  One of those double edged swords, y'know?  So that's one reason my mind races; memories of how I could have done something different, and would I, given the chance?  Probably not.  You can't write a book series (as I am attempting,) with the simple and finite message of "what's done is done and there is no going back."

Another problem during sleepy time is the feeling that I am turning into someone I never wanted to be.  Not to say that is a bad thing, because it isn't; for the most part I enjoy the man I have grown into.  But there are a lot of feelings lately that I'm not doing what I was supposed to be doing.  I'm a few months shy of turning 26 and feel as if I haven't really accomplished much with my life. I never had a HUGE ambition to accomplish things, so I don't know what I expected by this age, but it was certainly more than I have right now.  I posted a status a few days ago on Facebook that said "if you don't like something, change it," and it is an idea that I am only just beginning to really apply to my life.  I read an article recently about how to stop becoming a people pleaser, and in the article it said that you are only able to handle as much as you are willing to tolerate.  Not really brilliant words, but strong words that beg to be followed.  They certainly ring true for me.  The article blatantly pointed out that there is only trouble ahead when you live for the approval for others, and that is true as well.

I think at the end of everything, my mind races because I just can't make it up in regards to what I want to do with my life.  That ominous clock is ticking, and not to say that time is running out, but that I am getting older.  To quote Woody Harrelson, it's time to nut up or shut up.

On this I will meditate.  Goodnight ya'll.

PS, thanks for the 113 page hits in two days.  I guess my words DO mean something!

first iteration

It's been a long time.  Since I've blogged, that is, not since anything else.  Though... I suppose that doesn't really make sense either, mostly due to the fact that it HAS been a long time since I rode a bike, but not since I drove a car.  So there are things that have fallen by the wayside and others that have taken their place, but that is true of anyone in life and anything they do.  We love and we lose, we laugh and then cry, we watch friends wander away only to come back with their heads hung low... I guess we also eat too much and get fat but that's a different kind of issue.  I'm rambling.

I used to blog my thoughts out to the world on MySpace when I thought people might read what I had to say.  Looking back on it, they did read my words; that nifty little counter told me so.  Usually I was just complaining about things but I think any teenager/early-twenties-gay does the same.  So what do I want to attain with this blog?  I'm not sure entirely, but mostly I just need an outlet for venting.  I'm writing my third book, and my venting tends to go into it which makes the story WAY too dramatic and my main character a real twat.  A twat being a lady's dick of course.  Thank you Paul Rudd, natch.

I can't promise this will always be funny.  I also can't promise it will always be deep and meaningful.  I think the only thing that it will be is a mixture of both, and thus, a replica of me... equal parts sugar and spice, a good sense of humor, an oft fairly sarcastic undertone, and, of course, a good dose of that bitchy venom some of you love so much about me.  Tonight is mostly for fun as there isn't anything HUGELY pressing on my mind, but stay tuned.  Because if you know me at all, you know I like to tell my stories with a certain flourish.  Like that time I cleaned up someone's diarrhea in the fitting room at Express.

So what am I doing right now you may ask?  Well I am plowing through a rather large bag of candy my District Manager gave me for winning a contest.  The card says "Sean, congrats on winning the District Challenge Event.  Driving the overall store win with your personal CSL results (=  Thanks for all you do, Angel." It was a nice gesture, but candy?  Really?  Handing me such a large offering of temptation in a handsomely decorated bag won't do my hips any favors, nor will it assist in the mystique of this year's Halloween costume.  Alas, I am eating the gross candy first (Laffy Taffy, Jaw Busters, and the oddly colored suckers that look like fancy versions of those you'd find at the doctor's office,) before moving on to the chocolate.  Namely the KitKat bars.

I've got to print out the progress I have made on Book III right now, that way I can begin editing it.  I was supposed to do that about an hour ago but then I got sidetracked with this and then, by way of that, started flipping through a magazine.  Don't ask.  Just stay tuned, the story gets better (c: