the march update: second edition

In like a lion and out like a lamb, right?  Though I suppose this year wasn't too awful much like a lion, seeing as we'd dealt with months of temperatures below 0.  So really, what're ya gonna do, March?  Nothing!  That's right, NOTHING!

Lemme get off the soapbox, gimme a second... one stiletto at a time here...

Anyway, I've got to say with this March going out like a lamb (or a purring kitten, whichever) it does so almost mercifully.  If you, glorious reader, were to take this March and compare it to (my) last March, you'd see a stark contrast.  No one moved, no one died, and no one sprained their ankle so bad it could still be felt a full year later as the "twinges of nostalgia" of a St. Patrick's day gone awry.  No boys to confuse my ideally romantic mind, no worries about coming up with money to pay for a new lifestyle, and certainly no worries about my weight.

I'll have the jury omit that last statement from the record, thank you.

Karaoke Night

In the end it was sust a simple, easy, breezy, beautiful (Covergirl) month that started with a lot of snow and ended with a day in the mid-50's.  Take what you can get and make the most of it, yeah?

Naked and Famous concert in Madison

The month started with The Oscars and two of my bests (@markstyleme and @caitcd) getting engaged, though obviously none of those three things in any particular order of importance.  I mean, c'mon... we all know how I feel about movies; the full trailer for Maleficent practically sent me into hysterics.  And though there was the initial shock of the engagements, and the subsequent "Well what about me?" speech I internalized until blogging about it, now I couldn't be happier for all parties involved.  And if it gets me in a suit, who am I to complain anyway?

::tosses hair::

It did certainly get me thinking about where I was a year ago at this time.  I mean, last year when I wrote the update it was a two-parter about how St. Patrick's day kicked essentially the worst week of my life.  Honestly, I can't even fathom that shit happening again in such close proximity because having one thing after another, both physically and emotionally, I almost couldn't take it.  So really this year was like... the best March ever?  It more than held a candle to last year, it torched it.

Naked and Famous

And that also isn't to say that anything truly remarkable happened this month, because it didn't.  The massive Sandhill cranes came back to the apartment complex to wreak havoc on sliding glass doors and cars they can see their reflections in, my hair finally reached a length that my bangs can be pulled back into a 'lil baby ponytail, and I saw the Naked and Famous again with @markstyleme.  But like I mentioned before, I didn't leap like a fairy through a parking lot at midnight and bust my ankle, I didn't have another grandparent pass away (aren't any left, natch) and I've already moved out and didn't feel like continuing the almost yearly tradition of "onward and upward!"

Evil Devil Bird from Hell

But the concert was fantastic, the birds will go away soon enough, and my ponytail will get longer.  Look at this optimism!  Hey-o!  I finally got off my ass and stopped thinking about exercising and actually started doing it.  2012 saw a shift in me as I got into shape for the first time in my life, and sadly by the end of the year I had lapsed on all of my improvement tricks.  I'm the poster child for laying in bed at night and thinking "I'm gonna get into such AMAZING shape that my six-pack could grate CHEESE!  After I get some sleep though..." and then miraculously that feeling doesn't exist in the morning.

In the morning, the feeling as I stumble into the bathroom without a shirt on and look into the mirror is "Meh, good enough."  The big deterrent for getting in shape is the soreness, and that part never gets any easier.  So I started with the pushups (10 of them... holy shit, stop the press...) and the ab-wheel (I call it that because I don't know the name, but it's not that gimmicky "6 PACK IN 6 DAYS!" kind of thing (only got 10 extensions in as well (best not to over-do it...)))  And while I wasn't sore the next day, the day after that I was HELLA sore.  But as the days go on and you start exerting a little more effort, you start going further.

It's been two weeks and I'm up to 30 push-ups (although the last 10 are on my knees (at least I'm trying!)) and 30 of the ab-wheel extensions.  Which I'm actually proud of, because in 2012 I never pushed myself past 20 so that's something.  Today when I left Starbucks I thought to myself "You should start running today.  If you're sore, just get it all out of the way now."  So I went home and figured out how to put iTunes playlists on my Galaxy SIII (only took me two years to figure that one out, what a dick) then laced up and took off.

When all is said and done, I've started running again and I've started exercising again, getting the initial soreness our of the way and paving the road to what I hope will be a better looking body.  And even if it doesn't look better, maybe it will feel better.  Because that whole "true beauty is on the inside" bullshit might actually hold sway.  Who knew?  You're only as good as you feel, or young as you feel if I want to be more accurate.  We can always do with feeling a little better and a little younger.

Right now my knees disagree.

Finally I would just like to note something @klreynol sent me earlier in the month.  I'm not the kind of person that gives compliments out "just because;" I never have been, who knows if I ever will be.  I think of compliments and I think of nice things to say, but I rarely hand them out willy-nilly.  It's not the worst thing in the world, there are people who do it and people who don't, but I wish I could be better about it.  In particular, I need to be better about sharing my gratitude to the people who know me at my core.  My values, what I believe in, etc. etc., because when they do something that hits me at just the right time and in just the right way, mountains should be moved for them in return.

She sent me that when I was feeling particularly low this month, either knowing it or not.  It looked different when she sent it to me and I recreated it to "gussy it up" if you will, but the words hit me like a truck.  And they not only got me to smile and feel a little bit stronger in a way I can only describe as "in my heart," those words got me to turn to my book and attack it with a fervor sorely missing the last couple months.  I want to talk so much about my book but I really do have to let that blog simmer a bit longer.  Good things come to those who wait and it will be a good one.  I pinkie promise!

It's not that I think I'm a hero, I in fact think I am far from it.  And it's also not that I believe she looks at me as a hero, because whether she does or does not, that isn't the point.  The point is that you aren't the villain for having feelings, and sometimes I think we all need to be reminded of that.  And @klreynol?  Whenever I can, I will move mountains for you.  After almost 16 years of friendship, that should be a given; soulmates or not (c;

So what else happened in March?  I thought Paolo had allergies or something worse because he licked bald spots on his tummy, but it turned out he was constipated and gave birth to an 11 inch turd (you're welcome.)  The zipper on my favorite jeans broke, started stalking (I use the term loosely... hehe...he) someone I've had the hots for for a long time, and celebrated being 3 years single (not because of the stalking, mind you.)  Discovered I could be "signed off on" as a General Manager for my company WITHOUT having to move right away, nailed a contest at work to the proverbial wall, and for the first time (hopefully not the last) had a friend commission me for a painting.

All in all it was a great month, and with midnight tonight comes the end (in my eyes (nevermind Spring already started)) of winter.  It was rough, it was ugly, but the sweet can never be as sweet without the sour.  Toodles gang (c:

a love you can't call your own

I spent the majority of my day painting.  It's my first ever commissioned piece (pictures when it's done (watch for the March update)) and one that I am immediately proud of.  The last time I sat down to paint something, it was the day after Scout and I broke up, not quite a year ago.  Back then, I was working at almost a feverish pace and trying desperately to keep my mind off of him for fear I would call or text or do something equally as stupid.  My heart was slowly breaking that night.

One of the interesting things about symmetry is the mirror-effect it has; things (paintings... or people) revolving around an axis (me) to complete a whole.

Though if something were to be complete around me that would mean it was finite.  It doesn't seem to me, anymore at least, that anything is ever finite in my life.  That would mean I'd step out my door tomorrow and meet the next person I was destined to fall for.  The reason I'm talking about this is because as it always goes, I have plenty of time to think about things when I'm painting.  I call it ambient time, because I don't really have to think about what I'm doing as I'm doing it and my mind can freely wander away.

A week ago, the final two of my three "bests" became engaged.  Not to each other, of course, but independently from one another they are now betrothed.  I knew it was coming (not an actual date, but more of an "I knew that'd happen!" kind of way) so in some way I'd been expecting it.  But it doesn't happen and doesn't happen and then all of a sudden, it happens.

You sort of get... blind sided.  And surprisingly, not in a good way.  The news of these momentous, happy, life-changing events just hits you like car crashes on repeat.

We're getting married!

Boom.

He proposed!

Boom.

You're going to die alone!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

The last part was just me in my head (or was it?) but you get the drift.  It all happens at once.

Does it make me a bad person to wonder "what about me?"

What is at first hysterical and then touching when you think about it, "Bridesmaids" wasn't too far off from the truth.  And search as I might for the clip of Kristen Wiig being told that Maya Rudolph is engaged, I couldn't find it.  But her reaction is spot-on perfect.  You smile because that's what you're supposed to do.  You cry, because if you're emotional (like me) that's what you're supposed to do.  But when the news is out and the initial excitement fades inside of you, your mind starts to tick.

You can't convey your disappointment in anything regarding the situation you (the single one) now find yourself in.  Doing so will set off the sudden trip-wires surrounding these people who just days before you didn't have to have any sort of filter around.  Suddenly you could very well say something that fucks it up.  The "it" here being your friendship, because any sort of negativity conveyed is viewed as a big 'ol dump being tossed on their news.

I don't think it's fair... but then I'm not the one with a ring around my finger.  Maybe what's "fair" to me means quintessentially nothing to anyone else.  If it ever did to begin with.

In the aftermath of the joyous announcement of engagement you steadily begin to decay into this resentful person.  And I truly hate that.  Is it so hard to just hear something from a person you love so dearly, allow the smile to "flick on," and then feel nothing but pure happiness?

I'm beginning to think it is.

When I think about it, the biggest emotion raging inside of me is jealousy.  When the news of these events broke, for some reason I turned to Scout for council.  He had something kind of great to say to me.

"It makes me think of something you told me when we first started hanging out alone," he said, spinning his cup of decaf coffee because it was seven at night.  "You told me jealousy was a good thing, because if you were jealous it showed you what you really wanted."

The jealousy comes because it was supposed to be me.  How pathetically selfish is it to say that?  If things had gone right with Ken and I, we'd have been married for two years this summer.  I would have been first to the altar, the first to own a house, just... first.  Not to say I'd rather I was married to Ken right now, because we both went our own ways and are both better for it.  But whether those selfish thought come from growing up with two older siblings and always being the last to experience things on my own, I'll never know.  It's just how I feel; I wanted to be first.  At the rate life is progressing and at the rate I'm moping around, I'm going to be last.

It's like a two-lap marathon.  Sometimes I feel like I'm going to be so far behind everyone else that I'll think I'm winning when they're coming up behind me, not realizing I've already been passed once before.

Miss T said something really nice, she told me that with everyone getting this "life" stuff out of the way now, it gives me the opportunity to have the sole limelight later down the line.  I suppose that's true but it's a happy and sad thought all at the same time.

For days I thought I was being incredibly selfish about my feelings, and because of that I was staying silent about them save for the couple people I leaned on.  I don't think I'm alone in the universe in feeling like this, and if I am, I suppose that's the torch I carry.  They say your friends are the people who hold a mirror up to you, and if that's true, best friends getting engaged makes you look at your own life.  I realize then that it's only logical to feel the way I do.  It makes me look at my own surroundings and panic a little bit about the direction I've gone in.  The direction I'm going in.

It's interesting.

The other night I was standing in the kitchen at @caitcd's house for her brothers birthday gathering and I was overcome with this wave of pure, unfiltered sadness.  Not the kind I get when I think about the things or people I've lost, or the kind I get when I'm watching a movie or show and tear up.  It was this pain in my heart that I hadn't felt in such a long time, just a dull throb.  I didn't know if it was the combination of the music and the general atmosphere in the room, or the fact that nearly everyone in their was getting ready to start their lives and I was still watching from the sidelines.  But I just felt it.

Someone told me the other day that I need to fix myself and then I can move on.  I thought 2012 solved that but maybe it didn't?  I dunno.  Maybe we're never really fixed, we're just a little different for better or worse.

That's about all I've got for now.  I was immediately happy for both @markstyleme and @caitcd, don't get me wrong.  I was overcome with happiness for them both.  It was when the shock set in that it sort of clouded over the feelings of elation, and it took a few days for the clouds to pass.  But as with all thing, they scooted along, and I'm left to enjoy the notion of happy futures for two people I hold so close to me.

This isn't about me wanting to have kids and get married and fall in love... or whatever order that should happen in.  Am I ready for love?  Bet your keister I am.  Am I fine being single?  For now, yes.  But to tie this up, it's important for me to note that I do believe in symmetry... I prefer it any day of the week over something disproportionate.  And though I place a lot of doubt in people and things fairly often anymore, it would still be nice to meet my next great love tomorrow.

Then I think the universe and I would be just about square.

the february update: second edition

For being the shortest month it certainly felt like a long one, yeah?  Well that's more of a yes AND no answer to my rhetorical question.  At least for me.  While it wasn't as freeze-your-tits-off cold as January, it was still a cold one and it just so happens that by this point in winter... ya just don't care anymore.  The days are starting to get longer, there is moisture in the air again, and almost inexplicably yet despite the sub-zero temperatures, the ice and snow seems to continue its disappearing act.

I always refer to this time of year as the "upswing" because you know the shit-show of cold/snow/ice/freezing rain is juuuuuust about at the end of its run.  The weather shows it is supposed to snow this afternoon and into the evening but all I can do is shrug and plan my night out anyway.  Things to do, people to see, all that jazz.  You know you're from Wisconsin when by the end of February the weather is completely inconsequential to your daily life.  Maybe you'll wear a different jacket or a different pair of shoes, accordingly, but really you just say "oh fuck it" and do what ya need to do.

All that being said, February was a decent month.  Started it with the Superbowl and AGAIN picked the wrong team based off colors alone.  Will I ever learn?   The next day was our store inventory, and then the rest of the days just kinda ho-hummed by.  Valentine's day showed up and reared it's ugly face (don't try to justify it as a holiday; it's not a holiday) and eventually the 28th arrives and I'm sitting here drinking lemonade and eating Wheat Thins while I pound this sucker out and try to recall what happened this month.

Just before Valentine's day I was invited with Miss T to a dinner party at our friend Rachel's house.  Rachel had hired a private chef for the evening and it was just a small group of us there to get to know each other and chit -hat on a random Tuesday evening.  We had all sorts of fancy wine and champagne and then fantastic steak and lobster for dinner.  I've never been to dinner like that where there was a private chef so it was a really fun experience to have and one I won't soon forget.  Plus I'd never really had lobster before and if you're gonna do it you might as well do it right, right?  Right!  And with three rights you can't go wrong!

But you can make a left.

I'm grasping at straws.

Don't act like it's not the best picture collage you've ever seen.
Notice @markstyleme behind me.
It's hard to replicate old selfies, just so you know.

I went to the dentist a week or so ago and mentioned to him I'd chipped my tooth again.  The picture on the left is from August and if you look at my front teeth (front two incisors and the lateral incisor to the right) they are all chipped.  One was from eating cereal too fast and nailing my tooth with the spoon.  Honestly.  Well in November I got a little excited after (successfully) singing karaoke and banged one so hard with a beer bottle that it had a really bad chip taken out (no photographic evidence, so sorry.)

The dentist said he wanted to fill the uglier of the chips with bone-colored filling (you can tell which one I'm referring to (and don't forget it looked worse after November)) and then he'd smooth out the others.  Immediately I was terrified because as @klreynol will tell you, he smoothed hers out like 15 years ago and cocked the whole thing up (causing her to then switch dentists.)  Most of my fear came from the possibility the filling would be visible and a totally different color from my teeth.  However, as you can see that isn't the case and he did a fantastic job.  I don't think my front teeth have looked so nice since before I had my braces for the second time!  Because once wasn't enough!

OH!  Speaking of braces!  @klreynol must have been going through some pretty old stuff because she found THIS gem in a photo album and sent it to me the other day while I was working.  I literally screamed in laughter.

I believe that's my 13th birthday picture on the left (so dramatic, with a perfect bowl cut) and then my freshman high school picture (with said braces.)  That year was the first year I had cut all of my hair off, and it was never the same after.  Good thing I grew into my mouth because holy damn were those lips big.

That's about all though I suppose... unless you want to see all of the pictures I took of my cats this month and thus the reason I'm still single.

So what else happened in February?  Continued the never-ending work on my books, bought plane tickets and reserved a rental car for Austin in June, and discovered Jeep brought back the Cherokee (this holds more weight than it probably should.)  Fell in love with Olympic Ice Dancing, decided against buying a house, then buckled and got cable.  I began outlining my fourth book, finally (hopefully) realized some people will never make up their minds, paid off a few credit cards and then started planning for my future.

Because as Benjamin Button said, "it's never too late, or in my case too early, to become exactly who you want to be."

The warmer weather will bring more exciting topics to discuss, and maybe a few experimental blog ideas along the way.  Until then, enjoy a happy song from me to you and get ready for March (c:

 

ugh, thoughts.

I used to turn to this blog more frequently when I started having trouble processing my own thoughts.  It was an avenue I could walk down, spilling words like diarrhea from my fingers (there's an image for you) and sorting them out in the process.  Adoring someone from afar, being so pissed at a former friend I didn't know what else to do but write, finding a random speck of gold from a family vacation 20 years earlier and remembering the whole story surrounding.

Trivial things, really, compared to the thoughts in my head lately.  I'm not happy in my apartment, should I buy a house?  If I buy a house, how long does that lock me up for in Wisconsin?  If I'm locked up in Wisconsin, how far off does that push moving to Texas?  If I push Texas off for five years, does that mean I'll be a washed-up-mid-30-something-gay-guy when I get there?

I'm only halfway worried about the last part.  You decide which and we'll just go with it.

28 isn't old and I know that, but it isn't young either.  I was talking to someone the other day at work and commenting on how many people refer to me as "just a baby" or "still so young" and how annoying it can be.  On the flip side, eventually I know that will all go away and it'll be a sad day for me when it does, but the point remains.

At what age am I supposed to stop pulling up my big boy pants, realize they are already around my waist, and just get a move on?  Stop guessing and fretting and just start doing.  Nike built an empire out of saying "Just Do It" and still I find myself not listening and wondering what will happen if I do.  My sister pinned something today that caught my eye:

And it's just... true.  It's true.  I can't tell you how many times in my life I've stopped myself from doing something simply because I was too edgy about the outcome.  What about you?  It is the same old song and dance that I have been whining about for three years but I feel it's because it is still such a valid one.  With unlimited money and no debt at all, I'm sure this decision would be done in a snap.  Want a house?  Go buy one.  Want to move across the country?  Go nuts.

But I don't have unlimited quantities of cash, I'm certainly not debt free, and thus the decision is more of a snaaaoooope.  Nope.

I think about what the worst is that could happen in each scenario.  I move to Texas: can't find a place to live, wear out my welcome with my brother, and end up calling home for help so I can move back with my tail between my legs.  I buy a house: uncover all sorts of problems, bite off more than I can chew, end up upside down on the property and take a huge hit to my credit in the process.  I stay in Appleton forever: end up miserable, single, and wondering why I never gave any of it a chance when I was young.  And there you have it, my beloved blog readers.

"When I was young."

I look back on my life and think about how many possibilities lay before me.  It doesn't happen too often, and really it's mostly happening now because of the Olympics, the rare occasion you get to watch people who have trained for something their entire life for a moment of glory.  And you sit on the couch and eat your pizza and drink your lemonade and think "that'd be neat."  Not to be specific, of course.

I like to think my parents would have supported me being an Olympian, but I'll never know, because I never tried.  I never asked if I could participate in a specific sport or if I did, pushed to stay with it.  The only thing I've ever pushed myself to do is to finish my books, which is an Olympic event all on its own.  Or it should be ::tosses hair::

I know what I need to do and for the most part, I know how I need to do it.  I need to put my nose down, write out a plan with as much detail as I put into my book outlines, and then I need to get it over with.  Easier said than done but I did it with "26 Golden Things" and I don't see why this should be any different.  I know I've got the support group behind me should I need it, I know I've got the helping hands ready to reach out should I require them.  Sometimes it feels like it is enough and a lot of other times it feels like it's not.  What is right and what is wrong?  I dunno.

Maybe I'll figure it out when I get there; I just really fucking hate being wrong.

the january update: second edition

The year just keeps rolling right along and I've gotta say, hallelujah January is over.  Under normal circumstances I would probably limit that comment to my readers in Wisconsin but I think this year we can ALL agree it was a horrible month for weather.  Even you southern states out there.  I mean yikes, really?  How many days of negative temperatures can someone take before they just decide to pack up and get the hell outta dodge?

The answer is probably a lot of days because most people aren't sissies like me.

Never in my 17 years in Wisconsin (oy, shit, it's been that long) have I experienced such miserable cold.  When the aptly named "Polar Vortex" came shooting down from the butthole of the north pole earlier in the month (and a couple more times throughout) I was lucky enough that my car started up just fine each morning.  Well, I'm sure it would have the morning the garage door chose to not open because the opener-motor was frozen from the -55 temperature, but that's beside the point.  Thank god for @klreynol for a ride to work and Miss T for one after (when the door opened just fine.)

Other than mentioning the cold outside, there really wasn't much that happened throughout the month.  It was just really, really cold.  In case you didn't hear me the first time, natch.

I got the flu (read about it here) so that just sucked.  Do you know anyone who is high-functioning when they get sick?  Like, they get nailed with puking and a fever but they still manage to do things around the house and keep themselves entertained?  No?  Me neither!  How about that!?  I was bummed my house still looked like a dookie after sitting around in it for three days and it's funny how you make yourself so incapacitated while being sick.  Even though I was about 98% alone during it with only the cats to witness my actions, I still felt like I had to look more sick than I really was because that's just what you do.

Keep the frown on your face, leave your hair looking like a pair of squirrels got in a fight in it, and don't bother putting on jeans or a t-shirt because your hoodie and sweats will suffice.  I probably would have felt better a bit sooner if I had been able to open a window or something but to do so would mean the life-force I so desperately clung to would be sucked out of my body.

I'm not dramatic.

There is so much that I want to write about my book right now but I won't let myself do it.  There are two (2) blogs about what has been going on that I've got in the works and I just can't spill the beans quite yet.  I CAN say I finally finished episode III of my series!  I'd finished the big edit of it back in December but when I wrapped it up, I just felt like the ending was lacking.  Plus I had a ton of notes for the book I'd ignored during the editing process and I knew I'd have to wiggle back in there and fix whatever they needed me to fix.

So yesterday I printed the final three chapters out and went to ye old stomping grounds at Starbucks to re-edit them.  Spent seven hours doing it, was pleased, and then today I made the changes to the digital copy.  What surprised me the most today (in a fantastic way) was when I had to start writing a small bit of dialogue between two of my characters.

Let me preface this by saying I haven't felt much of the writing bug lately so it was a chore to do this at all.

Anyway, I start this dialogue and my note on the page says "make Banning feel helpless."  So I think okay, sure, add a few bits to dramatize his situation that he has found himself in.  And as I start typing, something just... clicks.  This idea hits me out of nowhere and I suddenly couldn't type fast enough to get it out.  And I'm laughing and smirking and then eventually choking up because it got reallllll heavy real fast, but I finally solved the riddle of why the ending of my book sucked.  I had to bring it all back around to the beginning, full-circle so to speak, and that was a wonderful realization because it took so much pressure off my shoulders.  The constant thought of "this isn't very good but there really isn't a way to make it any better" is never a good bedfellow.

I'll wrap this up with what my new motto is starting to be.  It took a large part of last year to get over something that I by all means should have gotten over very quickly.  But I didn't.  And for all of the thinking and stewing and festering I did on the situation I didn't really even come out on top of it like I thought I would, nor how I wanted to.  I've always had a problem in being comfortable telling things how they are to a person's face (not a specific person, just in general.)  And not things like "Where was I last night?  Oh, I was at David's house." Or "No, no, no, you look great in that shirt.  Honest injun."

It's more of things like "Hey, here is where my head is at.  I like you, I always have, I think we should get married and live happily ever after."  "Hey, this is my book.  It's long, it took 14 years to write, but it's good and you'll think so too."  I spend too long worrying about what consequences my real feelings will have and I need to stop doing that.  So like the picture says, I need to tell the truth.  And run if need be.

I think it's a healthy form of expression (c:

So, what else happened in January?  I continued my winning streak at Karaoke (...), had a great time at game night @klreynol's house, discovered I'm the shittiest player in the world at Werewolves (I think that was the name, I dunno, I never was one and they kept killing me anyway,) and realized I can roast veggies as good as anyone else.  I started to diet again (and subsequently look better in my own skin,) went back to blond and grew the beard back out to go with my new hairstyle.  I wrapped up the best year my store has ever had, decided I am going to buy a house instead of looking for someplace else to rent, and took the final steps necessary to securing the fate of the Onyxus Chronicles.

But more about that next time (c;

Until then, toodles gang!

when it comes to the flu

As I sit down to write this it has been 72 hours of near isolation, locked in my apartment for the great fever of 2014.  I say that in a "hopeful" sense because in years past I typically get sick once ever 365 days and I'd like to keep it that way.  Oddly enough, the last time I was so sick was a year ago this week, and coincidentally down to the same set of days.  Funny how that happens, yeah? Let's blame Australia.

By this point I am starting to feel like Ariel in the Little Mermaid as I look out the window at the people coming and going from my building and mumbling the words "I wanna be, where the people are.  I was see... wanna see 'em dancing."  You get my drift.  You get my drift even better if you imagine me singing that in a deep (incredibly deep) gravely voice nearly identical to Benedict Cumberbatch.  

It's very sexual.

When I get sick I really get hit hard.  I might have a couple small colds throughout the year but they are never anything noteworthy and certainly nothing I'd complain about.  While I love attention I don't love it for my ailments.  That ship sailed in 7th grade with the galbladder incident and all that bullshit.  When I get sick now it's usually an awful fever, throwing up, the works.  With my fever now gone and my head reattached to my body, I figured I could share a few bits of perspective and a story or two to help me pass the time.  Because while the fever is gone, mama still feels like she got hit by a truck.

This Sunday was the worst day of the fever.  At one point it got up to 104.2 and when that happened I couldn't do anything but sit motionlessly on my sofa with only music playing verrrrry quietly.  The slightest adjustment in my posture and my head would start pounding.  Mom swung by with a load of supplies for me which was incredibly nice of her, and brave, I might add, but when she came in she did say not to go near her so I kept a healthy distance.  I mostly sat on one edge of the couch with my middle and index fingers planted firmly against my temple to keep my head upright.  I couldn't really sleep, it was more like this weird form of stasis.  Only in hindsight do I wish I had been recording it because it was probably hilarious.

Sweating so much I could almost feel it coming out of the pores in my scalp, my sweatshirts kept getting soaked completely through, and my feet were cold as ice.  Because why stop at one thing, right?  I love how when we are sick we do things that make sense to us at the time but in hindsight you kind of shrug and laugh about.  The positions I was in and the clothes... I should have just gone and sat in bed to lean up against the headboard but that would be too easy, and of course I could have shed the sweatshirt for a T-shirt but no, not this guy!  I imagined my brain boiling in my head like a egg dropped on a hot skillet.  Ding ding, order's up!

I know I faked being sick a lot when I was a kid; anything to get me out of school was fine by me.  One time, after we had moved to Wisconsin, I remember chewing up my cereal and I just kept shoveling it in and making my mom think I was swallowing it.  Then I got up (I'd already laid the ground work and said I was a little queasy feeling (despite no fever)) and ran to the bathroom to make the required awful vomiting sounds while spitting the mashed up cereal into the toilet with some milk.  I don't remember exactly but I'm sure she just rolled her eyes and called me in for the day.

That's what I would have done to my own kid, too.  If you're gonna work this hard for it, whatever, go nuts.

I've been wracking my brain for sicky-poo stories and I can really only think of two for you guys.  One is classic and a lot of you know it, but one is just a memory so I'll start with that instead.

I remember all sorts of things from my childhood but there is a lot of it that I don't recall when it took place.  I remember images and sounds but not really the year, mostly because I was too young to know the difference/importance.  Most of the memories I have of the first house we lived in on Lanfair are limited to "birthday" or "that one movie night," because I was 5 when we moved away to the house on Knightsbridge and the bulk of my memory comes from that home.  I do however remember being sick once at the house on Lanfair.

I spent the day on our ugly as sin plaid grey couch, but from what I can remember it was super squishy and comfortable (the way most super ugly couches are, am I right?)  I remember lying face down on the thing for most of the day and I couldn't tell ya what I was watching on TV (probably soaps with my mom) but I remember it was very sunny outside and I was eating a lot of Oyster crackers.  Anytime I see a box of them now I am instantly reminded of that day.

This was the house I was born in, 1333 Lanfair St.  I Googled it.  No, it's not creepy to do that.

I said it's not!

The other memory is from 2010 and it's when I humiliated myself in front of a long standing crush.  I don't think I've told this story in the blog before but if I have, forgive me.  And then get over it.

This particular incident was probably the worst bout of sickness I'd had in years and then it subsequently kicked off the yearly arrival of the same.  I'd made it through Black Friday 2010 at Express and the day just whooped my ass, and as happens now and then it wore down my immune system.  I just didn't know it at the time.  I ended up having the weekend off following that big day and I started it by helping with a family portrait for @caitcd and her family.  It was a gift for her mom but it was a surprise and seeing as I LOVE surprises, I had to be in on it.  I felt fine through the whole thing, did my styling like I was supposed to and then I went to meet my dear friend Jillybean for lunch.

We ate at Buffalo Wild Wings (crucial to the story, trust me) and gorged ourselves on boneless wings and beer.  From there we went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part I (though we had both seen it a few times already.)  I don't remember exactly if I bought candy or not but I know I bought a soda; I remember sitting through the movie and thinking "Holy Christ am I full!  I shouldn't have bought the soda.  Oof it's just too much."  So the movie ends, Jillybean and I part ways, and then I see I have a voice mail.

It's from my high school crush Josh.  

Now, Josh had "come out" to me earlier in the year (after about four years of us not having any contact) and after he did, we liked to flirt a lot.  There was an attraction there, always had been, and I didn't see any harm in it as we were both in relationships at the time and he lived in Madison on top of it all.  

Josh wanted to get together for coffee because he was in town for the holiday, and would I like to do so as well?  I called him up and said yes of course, and then drove to my parents house to clean myself up a little before going to meet him at Starbucks.  At about that point I started to really wonder why I still felt so full, as I didn't REALLY eat that much at lunch and even if I had, it was now several hours later.  So what the fuck was up?

I get to Starbucks, meet Josh, get my coffee and we sit to start talking.  We tend to have these very fast-paced, blink-and-you-miss-it types of conversations and this was no exception, but after about half an hour he stops what he's saying and goes "Sean, I can't help but notice you're not drinking your coffee."  And then the haze of bemusement in him washes away and three things quite instantly dawn on me: 

1) He's right, I'm certainly not drinking it.

2) I suddenly feel really full.

3) My mouth is getting dry.

So I look at my high school crush with his big brown eyes, sexy shaggy hair, white collared shirt under a sweater and pea coat, and staring him dead in the eye I say "Will you excuse me?  I have to throw up."  

I didn't even wait for an answer.  Starbucks is notorious for having someone in the damn bathroom right when you need it so I instead took off out the front doors, sprinted across the parking lot and ran into the white rocks surrounding the perimeter.  I crouched, pulled my trench coat away, and started heaving.  The highway off ramp was right there and thank god it was dark outside otherwise EVERYONE would have seen me.  The icing on the cake, however, was yet to come.

Finally satisfied I'd gotten it all up, feeling the stringy drool of vomit still on my chin, I look up to see Josh standing not five feet away.  Watching me.  Instantly my stomach wants to drop out of my ass because I am mortified.  He doesn't even laugh, he just says in the most charming and convincing voice ever "Well if it helps this doesn't make you any less attractive to me."  I hardly smiled before I turned and threw up more.  That's why it's important you know what I had for lunch and subsequently why I veered away from BWW for a year or so after.

Anywho, that's all I've got for the sick talk.  I try to only reveal embarrassing stories every now and then so I hope you enjoyed THAT gem.  Someday I'll tell you about the poop in the fitting rooms at Express.  I'm feeling a lot better now; I'm ready for a shower and bed so I can go back to work tomorrow, and that's all there is to say about that.  Check back in ten days for the monthly update!  Ciao!

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a new resolution part III

I wonder how many people sit down on New Years day to write a blog about resolutions?  I've never been one to think I'm original when it comes to that, so it's not like I think I'm the only person in the world doing this.  But is it in the hundreds?  Thousands?  Slap-my-ass-and-call-me-Charlie-millions?  I dunno.  What I DO know is this is the third year in a row I have sat down to sort of hash-out what happened last year and subsequently plan for the year ahead.  Ready?  Good.  I'm not.

2013 was not a great year for me.  I think saying that pure and simple is the best way for me to illustrate it.  In "scrub" terms and for some of you commoners I'll say 2013 was kind of bull shit.  It was one of those "pick me up, knock me down" types of years.  What I'm realizing as I write this is maybe each bad year skips a good one?  For instance, 2011 was an awful awful year but 2012 was damn near perfect.  So maybe you win one and then lose one?

When the year started I knew I was in some sort of trouble but I didn't really know what kind of trouble it was.  You know the feeling when you've maybe... I don't know, boasted a little too highly about yourself and then had to put your money where your mouth was?  For example:  "I know EVERY lyric to EVERY Beatles song EVER written!" "I can eat two ENTIRE medium pizzas from Pizza Hut in one sitting!" "I can run four miles WITHOUT getting tired!" "I can have a fulfilling year without planning ANY of it out and still think it'll be as AMAZING as the previous one!"

I'll let you decide which applies to me although the pizza statement may not be too far from the truth on any given day.  So like I said, when it comes time to shit or get off the pot, often times we spoke too loudly right from the off.

I started with four resolutions in 2013: get published, move out on my own, get in the best physical shape I've been in, go back to my roots of what I'm good at.  I achieved three (3) of them.  I moved out into my own apartment in March, started getting into better shape in June and July and sort-of maintained it (still look better shirtless today than I did a year ago (boom)), and as far as roots go I did get back into writing new material, my form of photography, and cooking.  Some of those fell by the wayside for a while before I moved out, namely the cooking.

They weren't extreme goals to set (apart from the publishing (I'll get to that later)) but that's never the intent for me.  I would never want to set a resolution so high it would be unattainable, nor would I want to set it so low as to have it fall in my lap.  I found a meme the other day and liked it so much that I made my own version of it with a picture I took this summer on one of my runs.

I think the problem with resolutions is our uncanny ability to make it all about fixing ourselves.  Dropping a bad habit, adding more exercise into our routines, whitening our teeth, taking better care of our hair... they are all about fixing something usually outwardly wrong.  What if it wasn't about fixing it but instead examining it, determining the best course of action, and then granting ourselves a do-over?

You might say that's the same thing about fixing it but eat shit, it's my blog and I'll romanticize it how I want to!

Ugh, I just realized I have to go to the grocery store today.

There are all kinds of things I want to do this year but I now feel writing most of them down would be shooting myself in the foot.  I feel like saying some of these things out loud would be to jinx myself.  Last year I decided I was ready to fall in love again, and in a lot of ways I did.  It wasn't full-blown IN love, but I was definitely on the way to it... when it ended in June, it put a damper on the rest of the year.

That's the honest truth.

I still miss Scout, I still think about him a lot and what things might have been.  What they maybe should have been.  But then maybe it being a new year now means I can move on the rest of the way and let the hurt slip off my shoulders.  Being able to say "last year" rather than "a few months ago" seems to put so much more time between myself and the event.  Do you agree?

I want to get into even better shape and I'm not opposed to joining a gym, and I know it takes 21 days to start a routine but I just need to get the determination to commit to those 21 days.  There is a reason gyms get crazy this time of year and then resume to a normal pace by February, and I don't want to be one of "those" people who join just to feel better about themselves.  To that, I suppose we'll see?

So you're probably asking yourself "Well what's the fucking resolution then?  Does he even have one?" And yes, I do.  And while it will be relatively easy once I get off my ass and do it, it is still the most ambitious thing I've ever attempted.

I will be published this year.

Stop the press, holy cow!  I alluded to it in a blog a month or so back but I didn't want to claim I'd get it done by the end of the year because I knew I wasn't giving myself much time to do it the way I wanted to.  My brother has aways been a big proponent of me self-publishing through Amazon and my biggest holdback was the fear of once I published digitally, that would be the end of my book.  An e-book, no less, which is something I never wanted.  I think I speak for most novelists (or self-proclaimed authors) when I say there would be nothing better than holding a physical, bound copy of my book.

After all, I started writing Episode I of the Onyxus Chronicles more than 13 years ago.  13 years.  By now the book would be a teenager entering puberty and having sexy-time thoughts about other people!  I would never want to throw it out to the world to merely be a digital blip on the internet.  But then he told me you can still get your book printed (on demand) and self-publishing does not make you release your rights to the book, you still retain them.  If anything it just makes the book more visible were a REAL publishing company to see it and say "Hey, this is neat, lemme throw money at you."

So yes, the resolution for 2014 is to be a published author.  Doesn't mean I'll change the title of the blog or stop putting myself down for all of my shortcomings as a writer, it just means I'll have a little more street-cred.  That's what the cool kids say, right?  Depending on how it goes, maybe I'll publish Episode II.  And while I'm at it, who knows, maybe Episode III will see the digital light of day as well? Rest-assured, there will be a release party and a subsequent blog of me squealing from the rooftops in excitement.  Stay tuned!

2013 was a year of changing it up.  Taking the proverbial bottle, shaking it as hard as I could, and busting off the top to see what would happen.  Falling in love, experiencing another broken heart, feeling literally broken (thank you busted ankle in March), losing a loved one, and moving along on my own.  It was rolling with the punches, licking my wounds, and just getting back on my damn feet to face whatever came next.  I've never felt that way before.  I've never felt like I had to just keep going because it was certainly going to get better, only because it sure as shit couldn't get any worse.

It's a great drive to bettering yourself.  It's a terrific guide to learning how to start over and rebuild from the ground up.  I've done it before, I spent a year perfecting the art of it, and now I just need to do it again.  Can't be that hard, right?  I'll do what Edmund Lee says I should do.  I'll surround myself with all of the dreamers, doers, believers and thinkers that I know.  And because I fail to see it in myself so often, I'll also surround myself with the people who see greatness within me.

Because if they see it, there surely must be some kind of spark lighting their way.  Have a safe and happy 2014, everybody.  Thank you for getting my fan page past 100 likes, thank you for pushing the blog views over 6,500 last year, and thank you for just listening to what I have to say.  Or reading, as it were.  You are the unofficial family that gives me all the support I need.

Ciao for now (c:

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