the november update: third edition

November is, has been, and always will be what I consider one of the three "brown" months (looking at you, January and February). Does anyone else ever feel that way? When I actually stop to think about it, I've always assigned colors to months. I don't know why. I also don't know why Sophia has taken little poops outside the litter box, VERY randomly and in various locations, for the last 6 years. 

But hey, who am I to figure life out?

November went by in such a blur, and I'm not entirely sure how because, in a typical year, this month drags on. Looking back at last year, I suppose I didn't notice because it was my first month out of retail (happy first anniversary to me, whoop!), and I was busy learning how to job at my new job. 

Even as I'm typing this out I am remembering why this November was such a blur, and that's because it was essentially, figuratively AND literally the month of decorating.

This island is almost 7 feet long

It started by putting Halloween away. Now lemme tell you, I love to decorate. I wouldn't have lasted 10 years at Pottery Barn if I DIDN'T love to decorate (be it for a specific season or not). But decorating a house 1,000 square feet bigger than both of your previous homes is an undertaking. Halloween, in particular, meant accumulating a bunch of stuff (Goodwill, craft paint, patience, and a little bit of skill are so great for that), and when the spooky season had wrapped, that 'bunch of stuff' had to be put away carefully and precisely. I love being organized (when I can and within reason), so this also sorta fed my soul in a weird way.

Then it was time for Christmas decorating because, yes, November 1st is go-time, and no, I don't care about Thanksgiving.

Fuckin' mess

The kitchen quickly devolved into this. 

My Christmas decor was spread across many locations in the garage, closets, and basement, so first, I had to gather it all together. Then I started to disperse. And then I started to shop. 

And shop and shop and shop. And buy new garland and new berry picks, and lights, and things and this and that and all the other. Some of my older decorations were tired and had to get tossed, and some needed to be re-painted and fixed up. THEN I got the StUpId idea in mid-November that, HEY, since I'll be hosting Christmas with my family and getting the house all pretty for that, I might as well host a huge party a few days before! 

So I quickly reached out to a few friends to finagle a date, confirmed it with them, and then realized: your house is not ready to host another party. 

To the casual observer, yes, maybe it is... but to me, the owner, it was not. For many of the people coming, it would be their first time experiencing the Estate, and I wanted it to be a smashing success. So that night (it was a Friday), quite literally, I feverishly began to work on the house.

I stayed up til 2am cutting in the trim for the new kitchen color (what you see above is when it was white, which I didn't like from day one, and I'd been sitting on the new paint for a month or two), then the next day I was up from 7am-2am, working on the kitchen and removing all of the windows in the house from their casings. This way, I could paint them black and get away from the sun-dried and faded wood from 1983 they were. Then the next night, it was a 1am bedtime.

And onward.

Touching up my office downstairs and installing the baseboards and trim. Moving my OLD office from upstairs and setting it up in the new space, styling and decorating it as I went.

And still it went on.

Installing all of the trim upstairs (apart from two rooms) meant door frames, window frames, and baseboards. Finishing the windows, painting the upstairs hall, patching holes and moving the mounts for curtain rods so they made more sense and getting new drapes, and, of course, decorating.

And yeah, still, it kept going on.

Finish painting the trim in the living room and then stain the stairwell, also HEY it's time to get a Christmas tree! Oh, by the way, you don't have enough stuff for the tree! Better run out and get that. Whoops, outta paint now, better go get more of that. Dang, another trip to Menards at the end of a long work day, then get so distracted driving home that you brake for a red light a FULL CITY BLOCK before you're at the intersection.

To say I started losing my mind a little bit in November is an understatement, but historically, that's just what I do to myself. No one made me do this; most people probably won't even notice the things I've been doing and working on (with a ton of help from my dad cutting all of the trim down for me and delivering it so I could install it). It was a mountain of work, and it's a constant rat race, and it sucks. But in the end, you're left with just... this beautiful environment. As I finish each room, it will be styled the way it always should have been, with the furniture and decor in the right spots, the lighting on point, and the holiday pieces primed and ready. It's an environment that I can't wait to show off to my friends and family, knowing that I really don't have much left to do to the house once December rolls along.

Inside, at least. Outside is another story.

And I know you want pictures, and I'm sorry to say I won't be sharing any right now. And if I DON'T get the stupid Instagram account (@restoring_sean) up and running before March 23rd, look forward to a series of blogs where I show off everything I did in a year. And trust me when I say that it was a-goddamn-lot.

Since right now we're reminiscing on November of 2023, however, I'd also like to mention in this blog a very special anniversary. The 25th anniversary, to be precise.

At camp 'Trees for Tomorrow' in October 1999

These two dorks began their friendship back in November 1998. I was dating a girl (gay gasp) named Kelli, and Katie was Kelli's best friend. I think within a couple months, we had sorta... I don't want to say PUSHED Kelli out of the way, but there was a draw between Katie and me that we both somehow just understood and circumvented the party-in-between. When Kelli and I broke up that spring (after I had my first kiss with her, and no, it wasn't a match (also don't forget, I'm super gay)), we just kept hanging out. 

And apart from an overly long span in high school where I was a total shit to her, we've been best friends ever since.

8th Grade Graduation in 2000

Time is funny to look back on in some instances, and this is one of them. 25 years ago when I was 12 years old, meeting this person for the first time as she stood in the doorway of my art class and waved because HER best friend told her to, I never could've imagined what our journey would entail. Moves across the country and marriage and broken hearts and kids (three of 'em, five if you include my own) and jobs and medical issues and deaths and life. 

Tears. 

Laughs. 

Screams of joy and fright, the two often not mutually exclusive to one another. 

Suddenly you're left with this:

August 2023

This summer, Katie returned to Wisconsin to help my family and me as we threw a surprise 50th-anniversary party for my parents. One of the activities we'd set up was a photo shoot of the entire clan, photographed by my friend Caitlin (check her work out here). Since I'm the lone wolf of the Parker family, and everyone else got to have their individual sessions with their respective families, Caitlin offered to photograph Katie and me.

We're not married, but as we've affirmed several times over the last 25 years, we are soulmates. And she is unequivocally the greatest love of my life so far. I know she wouldn't want me to say I am indebted to her and her kindness and generosity and love... but I am.

And this is how I always want to remember us.

August 2023

The person I am most comfortable around. The person I laugh with more than anyone else, the person I can sit in silence with or just fuck around and find out with. My sounding board and my moral compass, my confidant and my inspiration. We were going to take a trip this fall to commemorate our 25th Friendversary, but life got in the way (and money (aka mine going into this house)), but it'll happen in the new year. It'll be a delayed trip but a fantastic trip, and I'm sure I'll be screaming all about it once it has happened. And that's all I've got to say about that <3 

So what else happened in November?

Spent the month STILL dealing with the stye in my left eye; they're just the worst things. Installed a new garage door opener with my brother-in-law, finished burning the scrap wood from around the house (just kidding, I added more since then), and did some electrical work that I was pretty impressed with if I do say so myself. Finished board-and-batten in the lower half of my stairwell, organized the ARMY OF CANDLES that I apparently own, and got to drive to my OWN home after Thanksgiving dinner with my family for the first time in 8 years. Also made a maple oatmeal pie for Thanksgiving, and it was kinda good, but it also kinda sucked. Oh, life!

Ciao for now (c:

the october update: third edition

:: Author's's note - this blog has been written for five days and I have been SUPER lazy posting it. Sorry we're into November and that I suck ::

Shit, it's been a long time since I wrote one of these. Really and truly, because the last monthly update was 'the may update: third edition,' back in 2016. 

Woof. 

To be fair, I did transition to making seasonal/quarterly updates, but that only lasted for maybe a year. There was no reason for stopping, other than I felt like I just didn't have much time anymore. It's a cheap excuse to avoid doing something that you actually ENJOY doing, but it is what it is. And then getting back into it? That's even harder, because, in many ways, you're making yourself re-form a habit. Even this blog today, I'm forcing myself to do it because I know if I don't now, I never will, and who wants to read about the October update in December?

Or at all, lol.

The reason I am getting back into the monthly updates is so that I can get back into documenting my life, and maybe one day look back on it all fondly as a life well lived. The purpose is to illustrate in detail the proof that I did things, that I wasn't just a person that "existed," but to remind myself that I saw things and did things and that while most of it may have slipped my memory (or been relegated to some far corner of my mind), it still happened. The reminders are lovely, and I encourage you to try it for yourself, for what it's worth. Also, forewarning, these blogs in particular, are full of photos (especially this one, because of reasons).

October began by continuing my 2023 journey (literally) of being the 'year of travel', so I will break this blog down essentially by city. This method works for me to stay organized and tidy, and it works for you because that's how I wrote it.

Portland, Maine

Portland

I kicked off my journey by heading to Portland, Maine, to visit Andrew. I've not really spent much time on the East Coast in my life, with just a couple visits to New York (I don't really consider that coastal, though, do you?). Andrew moved out that way in the spring, and I had said I'd visit in the fall, because it's my favorite season and also, like... it's New England in the fall; come on.

It was everything I wanted it to be, in short. Andrew lives in South Portland, just a stone's throw from the water. The first night I was there, we went into the downtown-adjacent area, which is super popular with tourists for a reason. Look at those streets! 

Talk about history, sheesh. 

We stopped at a few breweries after grabbing a bite to eat and enjoyed the crisp air. Early October on the East Coast was definitely not as chilly as I anticipated it to be, but in the evening, it was definitely cooler. Plus, there was a lot of humidity, which was surprising because, apparently, my brain doesn't correlate water in the air when you're next to the ocean, like a real butthole.

Spring Point Ledge Lighthouse

Andrew wanted to go to a lighthouse while living in Maine but had not done so. Weirdly enough, he lives like... a mile? Maybe? From the nearest one, so we laced up and walked to it. The fog had rolled in through the day and made it feel extra moody, which was fantastic. It was sort of a precarious walk to get out to the lighthouse itself, but the vibe was solid. And that sums up my trip to Maine in general... the vibe was solid.

The next couple of days were spent driving along the coastline. We went to Bangor, where Stephen King calls home, and it was 'fine'. It was not really the cutest city in the world, but there were some charming spots, and his neighborhood of course was loaded with great historical houses that were swoon-worthy. What highlighted the trip that day was how, on the way home, for the first time in the 3 1/2 years I've known him, Andrew and I had a complete Disney/Musical sing-along the entire drive. 

It was awesome.

The sing-along was repeated the next day as we made the long drive up to Bar Harbor, which, when you're talking about the layout of the US, is pretty nearly as far North East as you're gonna get. Not LITERALLY, but essentially. The drive was a cloudy one, but it was beautiful, of course, because it was the coastal drive and full of incredible vistas and little towns. And for the record, also, anyone who says, "Eat lobster when you're out there; it's so cheap!" is a liar. I don't eat it either way, but there were roadside stands selling lobster rolls for like $35, and color me stupid, but I don't think that's much of a deal. So there.

Bar Harbor, Maine

Bar Harbor is this adorable little town on an island that turns into a MASSIVE tourist spot through the summer months, as it borders Acadia National Park and is a stop for cruise ships. We got to talking to a man who owns a store, and he said the cruise ships are done for the season on Halloween, and the day after, it's like a Disneyland changeover: the park benches are gone, all the trash cans vanish, and the business' all board up the windows. The island population drops from the millions in the summer to just 5,000 in the winter, but occasionally they have celebrity authors come in the cold months to rent a house and write a book, and that's enough excitement for the town to suck dry. I'd definitely go back.

Maybe as a celebrity author someday, hahaha. Haha.

Ha.

When the day had wrapped, we drove back to Portland and had a quiet night at the apartment. The next day was the "big" day, and we needed rest because 6 hours of singing 2000's pop in the car had exacted a toll on our vocal chords.

Salem, Massachusetts

Downtown Salem

It was time. Since I was a kid... specifically, since 1993, when I saw Hocus Pocus for the first time... I have wanted to visit Salem. And not just visit, but to go in October. The Parker kids were raised in a definite 'Halloween' family, where my parents (especially my mom) always got into it. Seeing the city portrayed in that movie (or a version of the city, at least...) was enough to jump-start my macabre-curious brain. I've always been interested in the witch trials and history of the place, so getting to make a trip there with one of my best friends was just a perfect scenario for my jaunt along the East Coast.

It's funny, in my head, Salem would be this quaint small town (along the lines of something you'd find in Door County, WI). I knew it would be hectic since it was October and a Sunday, but like... shit, lol. Salem has absolutely capitalized on what it offers, and the city is an industry built on Halloween and the witch trials. And what was even funnier to me, because I had NO idea, is that most of the witch trial activity didn't even happen there. It was the town adjacent, Danvers (formerly Salem Village until 1752), and that blew my mind. 

Still, I was okay with it.

The city was beautiful; so much was brand new but incorporated a look and feel synonymous with the history you would expect. It was also jam-packed. Like... shoulder to shoulder with people in places. Even despite that, we had so much fun. We went into a couple of museums, checked out just about every shop that we could, and snagged a couple souvenirs as well. I would definitely go back to Salem in a heartbeat to do some of the tours, just not in October ever again. We chatted with our waitress over lunch (where we met up with my friend Kyle), and she told us the city is charming during the Christmas season, so... maybe then.

Nearing the end of the day with Andrew

When the day had wrapped and we'd seen everything to see in that time, I said goodbye to Andrew and drove off to Boston with Kyle, where the next leg of the trip commenced.

Boston, Massachusetts

At the Sam Adams Brewery with Kyle and Carlos

I think it's safe to say I've never been in a city before that had such a sheerly gobsmacking amount of history as Boston. Almost overwhelmingly. I really only spent one day in the city, but Kyle had me walking allllll over it to show me as much as possible. And what's funny is that I can hardly remember the specific things we saw. There were a couple cemeteries, the Paul Revere house, some church that was important, the site of the massacre... and other spots? Here's the funny thing about me. 

Not so "haha" funny but more "you're ignorant" funny: I don't have a TON of interest in US history. And if I am interested in something, it's usually unique or has a quirky spin. I dunno, sue me.

It was a great day, and we did have a good time getting our steps in and chatting and catching up. We had lunch downtown and then grabbed drinks at a hotel bar where we saw a man and a woman (not there together) with possibly the most plastic surgery I've ever witnessed on a face in person. It was amazing. After drinks, we got MORE drinks when we met up with Kyle's husband, Carlos, and then we trekked to the Sam Adams Brewery. The Oktoberfest beers were so damn good from the tap when they're made like... literally across the parking lot.

Portsmouth

For the second day, we were driving. First, we drove up to Portsmouth, which is almost all the way to the Maine border. Charming little town; we had lunch when we arrived and started walking through the small downtown area of shops. I snatched up a few souvenirs, but then the rain finally caught up with us, and damn, did it POUR. We ducked into a small bookshop, and I struck up a conversation with either the owner or just an employee, I'm not sure. She told me about how there is a huge writing community there in Portsmouth, and she herself is one of them. I didn't talk about writing my own series of novels (because I'm shit about talking about it (oh, but FYI, you can buy it here)), but it was interesting hearing her speak. She said some writers get together bi-weekly just to write together, as the group energy gets them to produce at a rapid pace. I thought that sounded like such an excellent idea.

I bought a book while I was in the shop, to thank her for letting us take shelter, and when the rain dwindled, we were on our way to the next stop, which was Rockport, about 45 minutes south? Maybe an hour? I don't know, I slept.

Rockport

Rockport is a prominent artist community, but there's a significant lobster fisherman population as well. When we walked out onto the jetty, this was evident in the number of lobster traps visible in the water off the bay. This quaint New England town was VERY clearly wrapping up for the season, as it was so tranquil there. The shops were all starting to close, and there was a strange sense of finality in the air. If you wanna see the place in motion, watch 'The Proposal' with Sandra Bullock, because Rockport filled in for Sitka, Alaska. 

Just a tidbit from me to you.

On returning to Boston that night, I had to finagle my departing flight the next day. It turned out I wouldn't be able to get out of Boston and head to Phoenix the way I planned the next night, so my new flight would be hitting the skies at 5:30am. It was an early night for me!

Phoenix, Arizona

The trip would conclude with almost a week spent with Katie and her family in Arizona. Seeing as this was my sixth trip to the valley, we didn't really do much other than hang around the house and vibe the way best friends do.

Painting fuck ups

Katie has been undergoing a massive renovation in her house, something I know a couple things about, so I offered to help with some tasks. We worked on the upstairs bathroom in tandem, I hung a couple mirrors and lights and did some painting (to be honest, I was helping for selfish reasons because I needed a mirror in the bathroom so I could stare at myself in the morning). She also needed some final painting done on the stairwell wall, as shown above. She was standing on the landing and holding the jug of paint for me, and I laughed about something and brought my arm back. The end of the brush slammed into the ladder, and then the business end slapped me in the face. 

First time for everything!

The week was primarily spent prepping for the big Halloween party movie night I had come down for (you know me and Halloween). Family and friends came by that weekend, and we put up a giant projector screen in the backyard. There was dirt cake and cotton candy and a big popcorn machine, adults-only beverages and kid-focused punch, and, of course, all the cookies and sweets and treats in between. We watched Haunted Mansion first with the kids, and then when they took a hike and went to bed, we watched Totally Killer (which I recommend very highly; I've watched it twice already).

Halloween firepit action

As my time in Phoenix came to a close, my left eye was starting to hurt. First, it was like... the skin adjacent to my eye, and then it was my eye itself, and then my eyelid. By the time I got home, there was a very definite bump on my eyelid.

Wisconsin

Well, that bump continued to worsen and swell and get ugly and make me feel ugly, and after a couple weeks, I resorted to the one-eyed bandit look that you see below. I ended up backing out of several social engagements for the latter part of the month, including but not limited to ::gay gasp:: dressing up for Halloween.

It's funny how something like this affects so many parts of your life, right? I think I was also fighting off a physical illness, but the pressure/pain/scratching/irritation/swelling/redness of my eye certainly did not help anything. Plus, I have been so focused this year on the move back to Wisconsin and the house and getting all the things up and running and ready and yada yada, when it came down to it, I just didn't have the time or energy to craft a great costume and do the damn thing.

A stye for the eye

SO, with my eye mostly better by the day of, I executed my customary Halloween traditions flawlessly. I'd been watching horror movies all month, sure, but I had also decorated in the middle of September. That was the hard part. When I got back from Arizona, I only had some fine-tuning to do on the house, and really, that was it. You can see the big project in the photo below, which involved carving 9 faux pumpkins and hanging them in the windows of the porch. 

Also, in this image, you can see what the house will eventually look like entirely (the darker siding and the all-black trim).

For the REAL pumpkins, I carved 7. Which was a lot, admittedly, but I had fun doing it. I made chili from scratch this year, and it cooked all day in the crockpot , smelling wonderful and making me feel so cozy because it was snowing outside until the middle of the afternoon. You can still see some on the leaves in the yard.

Ookem spookem Halloween at the Estate

My parents came over shortly after trick-or-treating had started, and we had dinner and drinks and watched a scary movie together. This was my first Halloween spent with them in... I don't know, actually. More than a decade... I'm gonna say since 2008? It was really nice though, and we had a lot of fun, and in the end, this was why I moved back to Wisconsin. 

To spend time with my family, doing the things I love to do (entertaining), and building new memories to add to the long list of ancient ones.

Wrapping the month with a final movie

After my parents left, I brought the pumpkins inside (but didn't blow them out; that's bad luck if you do!), took a shower, and then settled in to watch Halloween. It was the perfect end to the fall season because you can bet your tits that as soon as midnight hit, Christmas mode began and runs its jolly ass all the way through the New Year. 

So what else happened in October? I wrote two blogs in a month, holy cats. One was how I pulled up my big girl panties and moved on with opening at the close, part ii, and the other celebrated 12 years of this little blog with the thirteenth iteration. I agreed on a roommate situation that will begin at the end of January, I started cooking MEALS for myself at home, and I came to terms with the reality of what my life is now. For better or worse, of course. October was a good month for me, and this blog was tough to write, lol, but I wrote it, and the bandaid is ripped off.

I'm looking forward to getting better at these, and I promise I will by the time November's update comes around.

Until then.

Ciao for now (c:

when it comes to misperceptions

It's hard when you're misunderstood.  

Especially when you write a lot. And by writing a lot, I mean writing blogs specifically. 

I've spent 12 years in this forum, taking random stabs at explaining who I am, what I stand for, and what I believe. Sometimes, it's hidden beneath clever prose, and other times, there's no cleverness at all. The problem with this is that you create a version of yourself for the world to view that maybe isn't reflective of who you truly are. This problem does not reside solely in blogs, of course, because it stretches to the real world as well. Your friends, your family, and your loved ones are all in the audience. 

Not to infer that simply what YOU say is what forms their opinion... they have eyes and ears and watch and learn, just like anyone else. This means in the public forum, there are, at any given moment, dozens of "versions" of you that exist since everyone knows you and understands you in a different way. You are the leader of this pack, hopefully, in knowing yourself the best.

I've always been so worried about what people think of me. When I was younger, it was very specific in regards to my looks and my weight and what I was wearing, as is the case with most young adults, especially gay male young adults. The notion that everyone is watching and criticizing your every move is so stupid but also so overwhelming. 

As I've gotten older, this has transitioned to a fear of what people think of my decisions. That is because it is my decisions that can affect the perception of who I am as an individual to others. Never mind making a rash decision for myself and learning from the consequences, never mind doing something out of character because I thought, "Hey, I got nothin' to lose!" It's best not to rock the boat of what people assume about you and your intentions and your thoughts. After all, they've gotten to know you and understand you and form an opinion of you over the years... who are you to question that in them?

Note the sarcasm there, please, because it's oozing.

I left Facebook in November of 2020 because I felt like people believed a particular notion about me... a happy life told through status updates and photos that only ever showed things in the best light. This isn't a new thing to talk about, really, because that's the poison of social media in general. We build a false reality that mostly doesn't exist as presented, almost solely for other people to feel jealous or entertained by it. Instagram is much the same, but I felt like the narrative was different there, just enough at least for me to keep it. And I don't regret either decision.

But let me tell you about me now and who I am.

Because I'm complicated.

I'm happy for the most part. I'm sad in a lot of others, maybe too many. There is no balance between these emotions, and they're definitely not mutually exclusive of one another.

I'm lonely, truth be told. 

I'm lonely almost all of the time. 

I always have an idea of things I can do around the house, sure... projects I can begin or end or conceive of, if I grant them the time. I view these as distractions. I can read a book, I can watch TV or a movie. I can cook or bake something. I have ideas on what I can be, but I have no idea who or what that person is outside of my house. 

And I'm lonely. 

I visit with my friends, and then I go home to be alone. They stay with their families, be it children or spouses or whatever, when I leave to go back home. Alone. Where I have... projects? Yes, where I have my projects to keep me company. And I have my cats, of course, and while I love my cats... I have my cats.

Recently I've been vocal to friends and family about my intent on shifting things. I'm not gonna go into much detail on how in this blog, because it's premature to do so, but I will in due course. The reveal of said shifting has been met with surprise. Part of that has to do with what is shared on the daily with people, of course, or the lack of what is shared. But it's also because of a misperception about me.

"But aren't you happy doing your thing?" Nope, as illustrated above. 

"What about your writing?" Haven't written anything for a book since February. 

"You have house projects though!" Sure as shit do, but that does not a life make. 

"What about finding someone to date?" Easier said than done, and I don't wanna say or do. 

"Aren't you worried you won't find love?" Is that what would define me? Maybe I'll be single forever, but that's for me to determine, and really, who fuckin' cares?

"I'm worried you'll get hurt." Well, I already am hurt, am hurting, and have been hurt-ed, but that's not enough to stop me. Maybe I'll get the elusive "hurt-est" if that were a thing. What an adventure for me to decide for myself!

There's this preconceived notion that you can't change your mind... or shouldn't change, maybe... because it throws things into question that friends or family believe about you. They've built a perception about who you are as an individual, at least to them, and because they hold that as your truth (whether it is or not), you end up feeling you can only operate within these boundaries.

That's not right or okay, y'know? 

An individual should be allowed to do something totally uncharacteristic because they just... want to. No explanation is needed, no reasoning or justification. "Because I felt like it" should suffice. Unless it's actively harming yourself or another person, of course.

I'll be the first to admit that it's an uncomfortable feeling when someone you know incredibly well comes up to you and says "Hey, I'm gonna do this one thing!" and you in your mind think, "...da fuck? Really?" 

I get that. 

While I try to live my life as honestly as I can with those around me that I hold near and dear, there is an entire world beneath the surface of what you see that I just don't share. I am private about a lot of things, and only certain parties are privy to certain information at any given moment. That's how I've always been. Katie knows almost everything about me that there is to know, but there are certain aspects I keep private because they're just not topics I want to bring up on a Monday afternoon text chain with her. Were she to ask about them, of course, I'd share, but she's much the same as I in that regard. Open book to what you wanna know, but I'm not ALWAYS forthcoming about everything. 

Maybe that comes down to the fear of rejection for being open and transparent? Because I'm not always transparent, I feel like people believe I'm perhaps softer than I truly am. I think people believe that because I am typically an open book, I always share all the things that are happening. 

I'll tell you right now, from the bottom of my heart: I don't.

Katie sent me a poem the other day titled "Fire," and I really liked it:

Remember what you must do
when they undervalue you,
when they think
your softness is your weakness,
when they treat your kindness
like it is their advantage.

You awaken
every dragon,
every wolf,
every monster
that sleeps inside you
and you remind them
what hell looks like
when it wears the skin
of a gentle human.

It's one thing to talk big in a blog about how tough you're gonna be when it comes down to being the person you want to be. I get that. It's another thing to carry these actions out and tell people, "Hey, I'm doing this one thing because I want to," and then mosey along with your day. I get that too. 

I guess the point behind all of this is that it's hard to be forthcoming with people about choices you make in your life or want to make, as it were, when your motivations for making said choices are called into question. I think it's always okay to answer a statement that surprises you with "Oh! Well, that's a new development!" Because hey, it is. 

Then again, you might think it's okay to ask, "How did you reach this conclusion?" and maybe sometimes, it's okay to ask that. Other times, maybe it's not okay. You don't automatically earn the right to know every step of the process. Similarly, you don't own the right to throw wrenches in the cogs if it's a conclusion you disagree with (specifically if the conclusion doesn't actually concern you).

You just need to nod and say, "Okay, well, I'm excited for you and to see how this unfolds." The point I'm trying to make as I've written this blog is that I am going to try to be that person for my friends and family from now on. If I wasn't before, I will do my damnedest to now. My ask is that I receive the same treatment. People are pretty set in their ways by the time they reach their 30s, and as I turn 38 in a couple months... I know who I am. I know what's the best for me, what I'm willing to try, to do, to say, to think... just nod with me and say, "well, that's Sean."

Ciao for now (c:

the thirteenth iteration

More and more, I find that when I write a blog about what the future should hold, it really just... doesn't hold it. 

::take a beat for applause and insert a laugh track here::

Whether that's because I ended up rebelling against my initial plans or I was too lazy to drag them into the light, I dunno. I guess it's essential to have plans of one kind or another, right? Proving (maybe to only yourself) that you still can dream of doing something, of bettering yourself or your situation through a carefully (re: hastily) thought out plan. Choosing to dream instead of being resigned to the facts of life is where I tend to operate most of the time; my mind rests in a world often much different than the one I actually occupy.

A year ago, I was in the cigarette-butt-strewn gutter of life, unsure what in gay hell I was doing and perhaps at the lowest spot I'd ever found myself in as an adult. My health was in serious question, my heart was in peril from an emotional standpoint, and overall I was just miserable. I marveled in the blog at how different it had been a year earlier... and I marvel again today at how I have yo-yo'd so much through all of this. We can explore it all together right now in this, my favorite blog that I get to write every October:

The Twelve Year Anniversary for

Musings of a 

Self-Proclaimed Author

At this moment, I'm sitting in a leather armchair in Boston, Massachusetts, plucking away at my keyboard after casually checking my work e-mail. I've been on vacation for a few days now, visiting Andrew at his current home in Portland, Maine, for a few days before moving onward to Boston. From here, I'll head to Arizona, visiting Katie and her family for another several days of October goodness. The windows are open in the living room, I've got socks on, and though my feet are cold, my heart feels warm. I am warm in the thoughts of all the possibilities that are before me, which feel so much more open and grandiose than they ever have before. 

Maybe it's because I work a remote job and have been out of retail for just a few weeks shy of a year? Maybe it's because I'm finally old enough, and possibly mature enough, to see the components of my life for what they are and keep them in the tidy compartments I feel they should be in? One doesn't necessarily affect the other any longer, and they all don't blur together in an "oh my god, everything is falling apart, and I don't know where to even BEGIN!" kind of way.

Amazing how that can change in just a year, right? Last October, I was only slightly considering a move away from Minnesota, which came to reality in March when I sold my house and purchased a new home in Wisconsin. I was diagnosed with Meniere's disease at the end of last September. I took that like a punch to the gut, but have now determined it was most likely a false diagnosis (unless it wasn't and has just been a dormant issue (I think the tremendous stress and anxiety I was under, coupled with my TMJ from not having a bite guard at night to stop me from grinding my teeth, were responsible for creating the symptoms associated with the disease)). 

And then retail, after 19 long years, finally had completely and utterly burned me out as a human. I was a shell of my current self, so unsure of what I wanted to do... who I wanted to be... who I wanted to be with. 

That has all shifted and rearranged. 

Some of it I will cover in blogs coming up, and others might have to wait a while longer just to see how they play out. I've always been content with the long game, and these things are really no different. No longer do I feel a rush to get something over with or explain it or to seek understanding; I just let it come and unfold as it does. Not that it's always good to operate that way, but I accept it. I became pretty fond this year of explaining myself as "not having the bandwidth" for certain things. While I do sometimes groan at the expression, it's accurate, and it's valid. I need to put limits on the expectations of people around me, and I need to be true to myself and stand up for what I am willing to do and NOT willing to do. It isn't always a success, particularly when it comes to the feelings and emotions of other people who sometimes are jilted by this thought process... but for me, it's part of the learning.

I disappointed some people this year, and I know that. I feel bad about it, also. In the journey of self-discovery... of learning how to not only defend yourself, but to also be proactive in expressing your views/thoughts/opinions/emotions/etc, not everyone gets a win. Not everyone lands their goal or hits it out of the park. Sometimes that sucks. While I intend to be upfront with people nowadays to spare myself the regrets I've always held in staying silent, it isn't always in favor of others. Hell, it's not even in the favor of "me" sometimes.

So what do I want going forward? What do I intend to do differently or change? Recently I've been going back through the blogs and trying to determine why I wrote as much as I did in the past. In recent years, I blamed it on not having anything to talk about. That's true mostly, but it was also because I felt no reason to write about really anything. It took bigger life moments (or obligations to anniversary blogs) to get me to compose something. Looking back, once the Golden Year process was over at the end of 2012, I started writing monthly updates. Sometimes they were a real chore to produce, but looking back I am so happy that I did because I feel that it was when I was at my best. It got me to sit and acknowledge what I was doing for the 30ish days prior, and if there were things I wanted to add or change or remove going forward. They are these beautiful snapshots of who I was and what I was going through and hopefully what I was learning at the time, but I pushed it all aside. When I announced that I was stopping back in 2017, it was because I no longer had the bandwidth for it.

There's that word again.

I had relationship issues with Derek, and I had become a General Manager with Pottery Barn, and the draining of my soul had truly begun in Minneapolis. There wasn't much left to share with anyone else outside of my immediate circle. Seeing as that's not the case anymore, I gradually have gotten to a place where I want to start sharing my life again. Last year I created the "restoring_sean" Instagram account, where I will document my journey through renovating houses and what I learned about the process and myself along the way. I've not posted anything on there yet, but the groundwork is laid out now. All of the photos and videos are collected for my first two houses, and I have 1,800 pictures to go through of my current house so that I can start revealing more about The Estate soon enough as well.

That's what this winter is for, at least! Generating CONTENT again! And it'll get there, I promise; I just need to figure out how and when to do it. But having the intent... having the dream... is what counts. I just need a little poke in the back to do it. 

Until then, ciao (c:

opening at the close, part ii

I remember sitting in my office at the rental house in Crystal, Minnesota, and typing out 'opening at the close' as a blog title back in September of 2016. I thought I was so clever, tying it all together with a comparison to Harry Potter and the message on the Golden Snitch that held one of the Deathly Hallows. Derek and I had moved up from Austin, TX, life was getting great, and I was happy. Cleverness felt authentic and easy at that point, so I used it. 

Yes... I was so very clever. A year later, I would be writing about Derek moving out after our breakup that summer. My cleverness was effectively dashed.

Life ended up being big in Minneapolis, y'know? 

Couple heartbreaks, couple houses, couple jobs. Medical issues for myself and my family, a new nephew and niece from my brother (and honorary nieces and nephews from friends), and, of course, the loss of some loved ones. Looking back at six and a half years condensed into a small portal on my laptop, it feels big. 

It didn't at the time... at the time, it all felt horribly small and mundane. I feel like when I moved to Minnesota, though I was 30, I wasn't an adult. Not yet, at least. It took the heartbreaks of various traumatic forms, the houses and adventures they brought, and the health crap to hone it all into a cohesive experience.

Then again, I didn't leave Minnesota feeling like an "adult," either. I felt old. Rather, I felt older, and perhaps a bit worse for wear. When I packed up the house and turned the car on to leave, the utter and complete emptiness I felt was compounded by the emptiness I felt for the city in general. I never learned my way around Minneapolis, and I maybe went to neighboring St. Paul a handful of times during my tenure. I just didn't care to, and I can't explain why. Maybe a part of me always knew it would be temporary and a time for growth, and maybe part of me just knew none of it would take hold of me. But never really getting your footing sort of leaves you feeling adrift.

Leaving the ranch on moving day.

After retail had come to a close and I started working my remote job as a Technical Writer, it made sense to leave. As luck (and my own planning) would have it, I was able to move back to Wisconsin on March 15th. That might seem like an arbitrary detail, but it was the 26th anniversary of my family moving from California to Wisconsin. And I made a video project you may have heard of called 26 Golden Things, so really... it was kismet. Jonathan and I packed up the U-Haul, the cats, and my car, and we hit the road. 

I didn't look back. And y'know what, I still haven't looked back, seven months on.

As it tends to happen, at the time, I felt like I was turning over to face a bright(er) new future. There was a component to this life choice that felt weird to me, and it was how in this 'new' future, the one where I would move back to a hometown where I had lived for 18 years... and that component was how perhaps this new adventure was a bigger unknown than anything else in recent memory. Maybe because a lot was riding on it? 

Maybe I had attached too much significance to moving back to where the bulk of my friends and family exist. 

Could it be a mistake? Sure. And could I feel like I regressed to some old version of myself, ultimately getting angry at the fact that I did it so willingly? Yeah, sure to that as well. But I doubted the last part.

The Estate

I closed on my new house, here-to-for known as The Estate, a few days after moving home. This blog is not dedicated to introducing you to the Estate, necessarily, but I wanted to show it to you above for just a LITTLE context. Does it still look like that? Nope. Will it change outside (and inside) over the next year? Absolutely. But that picture was the Estate when the keys became mine.

Work on the house started within a few days, and that work didn't come even remotely close to stopping for four whole months. And they were very long months, where I didn't have the time or any desire to just TAKE the time to stop and think about my life, who I was, how I was changing... nothing. They were months spent with my nose down, just doing the work and pushing myself forward more and more. 

I would rise for work at 5am, spend the next 8 hours at my desk working on documentation, and then hurry to the Estate. My parents would be wrapping up whatever tasks they had been on for the day, and then I would take over. I'd stay until it got dark because, for much of this time, there were no ceiling lights installed to work under. Then I would drive home, usually around 8, eat some leftovers for dinner, shower, and go to bed. Then, do it all over again. And then on the weekend, be at the house by 7am and work until, you guessed it, about 8 pm. This went on for months.

It wasn't healthy, and I know that. It was a coping mechanism and a distraction. I'd like to say it was a time for me to break free from some of the spells that bewitched me in the past, and to an extent, it was. To another, more deeply rooted end... I'm still under a few. Some of them, I'd prefer not to be.

Mid-way through the renovations, my siblings and I decided to throw a party for our parents in August. It would be the 50th anniversary of their marriage, and we wanted to commemorate that (seeing as they would never choose to do so themselves (they don't like attention very much)). My brother and his entire clan would be flying up from Texas, my sister and her family would be providing a large portion of the food and drinks, and I would be providing the venue and coordination of all the things. We had family coming in from Indiana and a very old friend coming in from California.

I think to say I bit off more than I could chew would be an understatement, all things considered. By no means did I ever once think I don't want to do this party, but I'd be remiss if I said it was a happy 'lil breeze to get ready for and oh-so-totally-challenge-free. Having carpal tunnel surgery in the middle was not necessarily the anecdote to success, either.

My initial plan with the Estate was to get the BIG stuff done to make it possible for me to move in, and then just take it easy and poke along getting stuff done. This is hilarious in hindsight because I'm just not that person and never have been. For some reason, though, I thought this time I could be. Like a fool. 

Once it was decided that I would be hosting, I barreled forward with a reckless abandon that even shocked me. And the money I spent...

You guys.

The money.

Woof.

In the end I knew the bonus of it was that I would also have a huge portion of my house "done." So yeah... you essentially kill yourself getting it ready to roll in an attempt to impress your friends and family, and then YOU get to enjoy it afterward. 

I was getting such a tremendous amount of help from my parents, the whole way, from physical labor to the use of their tools to their generous donations of building materials, and allllll the while, I had to keep it a secret as to why I was moving forward with such ferocity. For the things I needed help from my dad on (very specifically for the party (leaving out a ton of his other contributions, by the way) I needed the kitchen cabinets built for the refrigerator and oven wall). I had to be gentle in how pushy I was because there should not have been an obvious reason as to why I wanted this wrapped up. Here's the briefest of brief previews below because, as I said, this blog is not about the Estate. Stop asking, geeze!

Also, this was only at the time; it has been finished since then (trim pieces connecting it to the ceiling, etc).

Kitchen changes

When the week of celebrations with family began, I picked up my best friend Katie from the airport that Monday. She would be the initial distraction (and my helper) ahead of the party. Because certainly, we wouldn't be planning anything for my parents if I had company. A couple days later, I drove to Indiana to gather my aunt Sally, and then dropped her off with my parents. 

That shocked the shit out of them. 

Then, that evening, they came to my house for dinner and found my brother, his family, and the granddaughter they had not yet met. 

That shocked the shit out of them. 

A couple days later, we had our big celebration, which also revealed my mom's friend from high school (our California traveler) and my dad's cousin (another Indiana traveler). 

That shocked the shit out of them.

Notice the theme of shock here.

We pulled it all off pretty astoundingly well, all things considered. They had a few suspicions along the way, but as those appeared, I squished them flat. Do I like to lie? No, and as a general rule of thumb, I always tell the truth. That doesn't mean I can't lie, hahaha, or can't lie well when I choose to do so.

This event was meant to be the culmination of my moving home. It would be the crowning achievement of all the extraordinarily hard work, tying it up with a pretty bow. Not to say I wouldn't continue working on the Estate afterward, or that I wouldn't be working on myself anymore either... but it was the first real milestone of a marker. When the dust from that week settled, the last planes had departed, and the rain clouds filling the sky the latter part of the weekend started to clear away, I could not help but feel immense gratitude. 

I am grateful for the people who showed up for me... be it by helping me along my path, helping with the house, or helping to make the anniversary party so special. It was a labor of love that created so much joy for two very, very special people who deserve it so much.

Right now, I'm sitting in a coffee shop that I walked to, a couple blocks from my house, and I feel like I can breathe again. The pain in my hand has subsided from not working on the house for a couple weeks. The air has a certain crispness to it that is a certain and sure reminder of fall being here, and the sun is shining on the leaves, changing from green to yellow to rust.

There aren't many days where I feel purely and simply "happy," but today is one of them. 

I really like that about today.

Katie asked me the other day if I was happy that I moved home, and the question caught me off guard. I couldn't answer. I guess now, as I sit and think about it, I still can't formulate a concrete answer. On the surface, I am happy that I came back, yes. That part hasn't changed. On a deeper level, there's uncertainty around my decision and whether moving back was the right way forward in life. It'll take a lot longer for me to unravel that mystery. But at the very least, of all things, I am so happy to be near my parents and to have had the last several months working alongside them so much and getting to know them so well. 

That part of the equation cannot be measured because it's priceless. 

I'm happy to be near my sister and her family, and to be so close to a few of my best friends. I'm also happy living in the Estate.

The answer I can provide with complete certainty is that I finally feel like Minnesota is in my past. It brought me some amazing friends, it brought me some terrific laughter, and that is the space I will allow it to occupy in my heart. Beyond that, I must draw the covers and put it to bed. I remember a quote I've always loved: "You can't start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one."

One book closes and another is now open. Ciao for now (c:

that time i lived with my best friend

December 2018

Four and a half years ago, I met this guy up above. A mutual friend connected us, we had a couple dinners with conversations that went on for hours, we dated for three months, and then that was it. 

And FUCK does my head look huge. Damn.

January 2019

It's only now as I look back on that time that I realize I never wrote about him. He was mentioned in a new resolution part viii, but that was it. Two little lines. I wasn't sure about things with him at the time... I wasn't sure about myself and who I was or wanted to be. That part hasn't changed about me. What has changed is how these pictures, the first we ever took "together," gave no inclination to the fact he would become one of the best friends I've ever had. Where romance failed, and any kind of friendship took a year-long hiatus, something else developed between us. I'd like to share about that today.

Jonathan and I reconnected during Covid, both of us newly single again and sorta going through the motions of life. At first, it was awkward, coming back together and addressing the gap year, while also mostly just ignoring it. We're pretty good at ignoring stuff when it's uncomfortable. Our first day really hanging out together was toward the end of May 2020, when I was pouring concrete pavers for my patio at the Manor, and he came over to day-drink and chat.

With the riots in Minneapolis after what happened to George Floyd, the city enacted a curfew that evening. Coupled with the day drinking, we decided he should stay the night. We grilled out and drank some more, watched movies, and then had a live-karaoke session in my living room. It eventually resulted in us putting on heels from past Halloween costumes and lip-syncing to "I2I" from A Goofy Movie. That was the night that I knew (and he knew) there was something there between us. It wasn't romantic in nature, it was more than that. We always had a certain kind of comfort around each other, but now it had become this sort of next-level type vibe. With the world falling apart from the pandemic and the city in literal flames from racial injustice, our friendship was growing stronger and stronger by the day.

June 2020

It was that summer he earned his nickname, Mursula Gandalf, one that I am very proud of for coming up with in the organic way that I did, and one that has stuck quite profoundly. It is an inside joke that I don't want to share the details of, but I just want that name to be known here and now. For what it's worth, at least.

I sold the Manor later that summer, and he got involved in a relationship that had him out of town often and otherwise booked. Which was fine, of course, because as I told him the other day in a letter, what's the point of a friendship if you can't grow separately and still remain "together"? But as the colder months rolled in, I had health issues that started to rise. A few days before Christmas that year I had to drive myself to the ER for some debilitating pain in my abdomen that turned out to be a massive kidney stone.

Jonathan was the first person I called, and he made the trek up to the hospital in Maple Grove to sit with me in my morphine-induced euphoria. And like... it's not like that is moving mountains or anything, but when you don't have many people you can reach out to, and there's one that will drop everything to help you or console you or just be there for you, that means the world. Maybe not to everyone, but to most people, and certainly to me. 

As many of you know, I'm not typically a fan of asking for help.

December 2020

Sometimes I need help though, and a person like Jonathan makes it easy to ask for it, because he does it without pretense. He does it without asking for something in return, or on a condition... he just acts like a friend should, and he shows up. It was the first year I would ever spend Christmas alone, with Covid going on I couldn't leave the state due to my job, and with a stent placed in my gut and kidney stones having a holiday party, I also didn't want to drive somewhere. With my birthday the next day, that meant another solo ride for the first time. But he showed up that night when he got back to town, cake and gift in tow, and a party-cracker that scared the life out of me. For the record, NaeNae also came over that evening.

January 2021

Then there was my actual surgery, and of course, he was there for that too. Brought me jello to eat the day before because I had to fast for it, and then stuck around as I had the stones blasted. When I look back on this time, it feels like a very intimate thing even though at the moment, it wasn't. Perhaps it was just how he had inserted himself into my life and taken on a leading role among friends? This was mostly due to his proximity to me and having availability to do so. That's not a knock against any of my other friends, of course, it was just how the circumstances rolled out.

Over the next... year and a half, really... we had some distance between us. Relationships on either end of the line had each of us preoccupied. But the foundation existed now, y'know? And it was pretty fuckin' unshakeable, to the point that we started leaning on each other again long-distance during phone calls, albeit rare ones. As fractures in our romantic relationships started appearing, we were able to confide and share with each other in a way that was new for me. I've only had a couple of male friends over the years, and one or two I still hold very near and dear to my heart. 

With Jonathan, it was just different. Maybe because it had once been romantic between us, and now that it wasn't at all, there was no worry anything could be misconstrued that way? I suppose that granted me a certain level of calm and openness around him, knowing neither of us would ever interpret an intention in the wrong way.

September 2022

This past fall I got to bring him back to Appleton with me for Oktoberfest, which is arguably my favorite time of year in this city. Everything is green still, the weather is phenomenal, and everyone is just happy to be here. That's why most of us live in the midwest, after all... the short couple months of fall that are utterly perfect. Jonathan got to meet my parents for the first time, and he got to meet a few of my friends as well. It was the final step, in my humble opinion, of cementing someone in your life forever. When they get to see your hometown and where you grew up, things change. There's perhaps more understanding? I don't know if that's a thing or not, but it is what I liken it to.

In November we made the decision for Jonathan to move up from Oklahoma and in with me at the Ranch. His relationship was ending, and this was the opportunity for a few things. First, to get him away from the situation he was in. Second, so that I wouldn't be so goddamn lonely working from home after leaving retail behind. And third, so that we could have a few months together for him to figure out his next steps and so that I could prep for my move back to Wisconsin. 

For the outsider, however, I think there was a lot of confusion over this choice we were making.

It's common for people in the gay community to try and destroy things between other gays. We don't need bans on drag queens or transgender individuals to hurt our community, we're generally pretty content hurting it on our own. I won't say I'm entirely innocent of nastiness, though I will say any evil-doing I participated in is wellwellwelllllll in the past (like... 15 years in the past, truly). I think this animosity tends to arise when there are two individuals such as us, living a life that perhaps the outside doesn't understand. Best friends, no romantic inclinations whatsoever, who enjoy each other's company more than anything else. I think it's somehow viewed as "wrong" by others, and they will attempt to sabotage it in cruel ways. 

In the few months living together, the messages I received from strangers trying to "enlighten" me as to who Jonathan "really is" were insane. Some people thought they might have dirt, reaching out to one of us to spread gossip from fake Instagram accounts with a "did you know THIS about your friend?" And I didn't engage... there's no point in it, particularly when yeah... I did know "this" about my friend. I know everything about him, and he certainly knows everything about me. And it has been demonstrated easily that when one of us THINKS the other doesn't know what we're thinking, we're quite wrong. I'm hard to read, but this big bitch sees right through me.

I've only met a handful of people in my life that are privy to all of the real thoughts inside of me, for better or for worse. But he's one of them, and for that, I am grateful. Remember when I said our foundation was unshakeable? Well, I'll reiterate it here: it's unshakeable.

February 2023

It's not all sunshine and roses, y'know. There are things he did that drove me up the fuckin' wall, and they tend to begin and end with the kitchen sink (literally, not figuratively (you know what I'm talking about, Mursula)). But like in any relationship, that's how friendship goes too, isn't it? Look over the tiny things you don't LOVE and enjoy the rest? Because usually the rest is pretty great. 

You might be wondering right now "Sean, are you sure you don't have feelings for him?" And the answer is no, I do not. Not in a romantic sense, and I'm confident in saying he doesn't either. Maybe in the grand multiverse, there's a version of us that is together and happy. I totally see how that could be. It's just not in the cards for this one, and that's perfectly fine. We need friends... we need people that stay as friends. We need friends to keep us in check, to remind us of who we were and who we're turning into, to hold up the mirror when we don't want to see and just... to be there. 

That's him.

A week ago we got home from Australia, a "best friend trip" that changed my outlook on life. I will never forget our time in Sydney. The amount of laughing we did, and singing and dancing and libations and screams and tears and pure, unfiltered, joy. It was the trip of a lifetime, and one I am indebted to him forever for granting me the ability to partake in.

March 2023

I love my friends, one and all. I know that seems like a blanket statement, and perhaps it is, but the people I maintain some sort of contact with are the ones that bring me to life. I can come across as guarded to people, more often than not, as I get older. Some might say I can be cold. But my best friends are the ones that see this side and know what's beneath it... they're the ones that have sat with me while I cried, and they know who I am in my core. 

Having one is a treasure; having multiple is a gift. Though I'm moving back to Wisconsin to live near two of my bests, I am leaving a couple behind. Jonathan is one of them. 

I'm so sad to not live with him anymore. It breaks my heart that I won't be able to greet his groggy ass every day with a "Good morning, Camille," to get loud and scream movie quotes at each other. To hurl scathing insults that ONLY come from love and ALWAYS leave the other in laughing hysterics. I am so thankful we had this time together, however short it was, to lean on each other as we brushed the dirt and blood of the past from our knees. The last three months were a time for healing and coming together, and I know we succeeded in that. It's funny how living together followed the exact timeline of us dating... the end of November to the start of March. 

This time though, we came out stronger than we entered. While there's heartbreak in its ending of that form, there's excitement and hope in how it will continue.

It's particularly interesting how sad I am that this situation probably won't ever happen again... a perfect storm of events led to living with one of my best friends. I'm so happy that it did. Mursula Gandalf, my dear Jonathan, you've changed my life forever, and I want the world (ie, my 3 readers), to know it. 

Thank you for being you and never trying to be anybody else, you're perfect as you are.

To the rest of you, I'll just say ciao for now (c: