For the first time in two months, I'm nervous about this trip.
Maybe it's the turbulence we've been experiencing for the past thirty minutes. Maybe it's just my annoyance toward the kid in front of me who, in between playing with loud apps on his iPhone, has continuously rocked his seat back and forth trying to get comfortable, hitting my netbook with each back-and-forth motion. Or maybe this trip was never truly real to me until I realized that there's no turning back now. Not that I want to head back to Boston but it's such a radical shift, even if it's been anticipated for months.
More turbulence. This is getting ridiculous, almost as bad as the lightning storm on the way back from Vegas. I say almost because I'm not quite at the required level of near-pants-shitting fear that was reached in early June.
Anyway, I think it's the turbulence and not the fact that for the first time I'm going to be living out of state for more than a couple of weeks. Certainly the first time I'll have lived by myself...well, ever. There's a new assignment waiting for me, clouded in mystery and borderline befuddlement in respects to my role in the conversion, I've connected with a woman from Boston who is working in Sacramento until March and I'm meeting her for the first time when she picks me up from the airport. I'm super nervous about that; she's gorgeous and certainly out of my league though she insists she's not. She says she loves the way I talk, and she likes the way I treat her. That's a great feeling, except that I've heard that before and then in the next breath there's a sigh and a break-up, or a denial of a third or fourth date. I know how it works in the end; it's either physical attraction or bust. Them's the breaks.
I'm nervous about the size of my studio apartment. I've never lived in a studio. I'm the type of person who loves having people over to my place for drinks or to watch a game. That's nigh to impossible now unless it's one person and we still haven't gotten out of bed yet. I don't even know if there will be a couch in the place.
I'm nervous about my parents fending for themselves this fall, and especially this winter if my contract gets extended. My parents are not young and the driveway isn't going to clear itself, That reminds me, I'll have to call around Wakefield when I land and see if I can pay a plow to clear out the snow for my parents. I can't imagine it will cost much. My sister is moving to Beverly so she will not be around the house much. She's moving in with her boyfriend and I'm a little nervous for her as well, just from personal experience vis-a-vis leasing a place with a significant other and the complete and utter failure that came with it.
All of this nervousness is just leaking out of me, dying to escape so that maybe I'll be too scared to go through with it. But my nerves don't understand that it's having the opposite effect; by the time I land it will be completely drained and will have dissipated completely. That's my hope, anyway. There's so much to look forward to once I arrive in Sacramento: a new job, a possible love interest, new streets and areas to explore, 10am Patriots games (complete with brunch and booze), and a much-needed change of scenery. I feel like I've been stuck in second gear for almost a year and I am ready to speed up. I want to feel the rush of knowing that I am on my own, creating new memories and new friendships, learning and growing as a person as I traipse through the next chapter of my life,
It's scary and I'm nervous. I'm sure a lot of people feel the same way when they get to this juncture. If you haven't, then go out and scare the shit out of yourself. You'll be surprised what you learn about yourself. The petty shit that used to be so goddamn frustrating and heavy no longer seem all that important, They've been put back into their small places with the rest of the insignificance that attaches itself to people. I can't imagine an experience like this will be anything but beneficial to me and the people I love who want to see me soar and who will reap the rewards of my tiny, corporate vision quest.
And away we go.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Where no one notices the contrast of white on white...
A great weekend, but one that scared the crap out of me.
It was GORGEOUS out this entire weekend; the sun was out, it was warm, no wind or significant rain in sight. I grilled. :-) I also feel like I gained a lot of insight and managed to stress myself out at the same time. I think a lot of the time those two go hand in hand, insight and panic.
I learned that there is no way my parents survive up here in New England if I ever leave. I mean, I love Boston but I've always wanted to see what California would be like for six months. I don't think that's a possibility if they stay up here; there's just too much upkeep with the lawn and garden. Collecting and splitting firewood for the stove has become a three-season process. My parents are old; my dad limps on a bum ankle and has smoked cigarettes for almost fifty years. My mom is great from a domestic point of view but can't turn on a computer or do any heavy yardwork or lifting. My sister helps at times but she's got her own life to live; she'd rather be at the beach or out with her boyfriend/girlfriends than to ask "what can I do to help?" So it gets stuck on me.
Not that I'm not grateful for everything my parents have given me: I live rent-free at home, they paid for two years of college, and I've never been significantly let down by them. But I'm starting to wonder when I'm going to be able to make the choices I truly want to make without having to factor in other people. Maybe I never will; hell, maybe the people I think are making choices for themselves really aren't. Maybe the ones that truly are independent are a whole lot more miserable than me.
A choice I am trying to make for myself is whether or not to buy a house this year. There are plenty of reasons to buy now: the prices are low, the rates are great, there's a huge tax credit provided to first-time home buyers. But I came to a realization tonight that scares the shit out of me.
I was sitting on my porch with a beer, just lounging around in the warm air. It's a great feeling, being completely at peace. But as I sat there I started to feel loneliness creeping in around the edges. The truth is, I started getting bored sitting out on the deck by myself. Not bored in the sense of "I should be out in a bar or at someone else's house enjoying this" but more in the sense that I wish I had someone else with me at my place. There was an emptiness there I just couldn't shake.
That's what scares the shit out of me. If I buy a place for all the reasons I listed above, I'm going to be alone. Sure, people can visit and hang out but at the end of the day I'm going to be alone in some big house. I'm going to be talking to no one when I get home from work. I'll be lying in bed wishing more than anything that there were someone next to me to talk to; the gentle murmuring between two people as they fade off into sleep holding each other. Do I really want that? Do I really want to feel even more isolated and alone than I feel now? But can I really give up the opportunity to buy now and lose out on all the great reasons to purchase a home?
I've already decided that I don't want a condo; I don't want to pay some condo association $250 a month to take out my trash and shovel my walkway. I can't justify paying the same amount in rent that I would for a mortgage payment and having nothing to show for it. And I sure as hell won't live at my parents' house until I find the right woman and get married. Basically...I'm fucked because I want to buy a house but not be lonely inside of it. Awesome.
Speaking of being fucked (and I'm not going to an inappropriate place, don't worry) I had the pleasure of sitting next to a bunch of my ex's friends at a bridal shower today. The men of the wedding party were bribed into going with promises of free food and good-looking women. I actually had a blast though I had to duck out a little early. It was just ironic that I ended up at the same table as four women who graduated with my ex. Well, not really ironic, per se, since the bride-to-be also graduated with her. It was just a little awkward to be sitting next to a woman who doesn't really talk to my ex anymore and didn't know for sure that we'd even broken up until I talked to her (yikes); a woman I went to high school with who is fabulous in every way but is still really good friends with the ex; a woman who I've only seen when I was with my ex so I always associate her with said ex; and a woman whose wedding reception I went to in October of last year - the place at which I realized that I was no longer in love with the person my ex had become, leading to my decision to dump her three days later. Yeah, that was awesome.
So, where am I at now? I'm afraid to leave my family behind because they need me. I'm afraid to buy a house because I know I'm going to end up with a raging case of space madness from being alone all the time. I'm pretty sure the last seven years of my life are going haunt me for as long as they can. I'm afraid that I'm not going to have anyone to share my fears with other than this fucking blog and a night or two out with friends who either:
a) don't understand;
b) even worse, do understand but can't open up because we're surrounded by other people who don't understand; or
c) worst of all, think they understand but, since they don't, I could give a fuck less what their opinions are.
And people wonder why I drink so goddamn much.
It was GORGEOUS out this entire weekend; the sun was out, it was warm, no wind or significant rain in sight. I grilled. :-) I also feel like I gained a lot of insight and managed to stress myself out at the same time. I think a lot of the time those two go hand in hand, insight and panic.
I learned that there is no way my parents survive up here in New England if I ever leave. I mean, I love Boston but I've always wanted to see what California would be like for six months. I don't think that's a possibility if they stay up here; there's just too much upkeep with the lawn and garden. Collecting and splitting firewood for the stove has become a three-season process. My parents are old; my dad limps on a bum ankle and has smoked cigarettes for almost fifty years. My mom is great from a domestic point of view but can't turn on a computer or do any heavy yardwork or lifting. My sister helps at times but she's got her own life to live; she'd rather be at the beach or out with her boyfriend/girlfriends than to ask "what can I do to help?" So it gets stuck on me.
Not that I'm not grateful for everything my parents have given me: I live rent-free at home, they paid for two years of college, and I've never been significantly let down by them. But I'm starting to wonder when I'm going to be able to make the choices I truly want to make without having to factor in other people. Maybe I never will; hell, maybe the people I think are making choices for themselves really aren't. Maybe the ones that truly are independent are a whole lot more miserable than me.
A choice I am trying to make for myself is whether or not to buy a house this year. There are plenty of reasons to buy now: the prices are low, the rates are great, there's a huge tax credit provided to first-time home buyers. But I came to a realization tonight that scares the shit out of me.
I was sitting on my porch with a beer, just lounging around in the warm air. It's a great feeling, being completely at peace. But as I sat there I started to feel loneliness creeping in around the edges. The truth is, I started getting bored sitting out on the deck by myself. Not bored in the sense of "I should be out in a bar or at someone else's house enjoying this" but more in the sense that I wish I had someone else with me at my place. There was an emptiness there I just couldn't shake.
That's what scares the shit out of me. If I buy a place for all the reasons I listed above, I'm going to be alone. Sure, people can visit and hang out but at the end of the day I'm going to be alone in some big house. I'm going to be talking to no one when I get home from work. I'll be lying in bed wishing more than anything that there were someone next to me to talk to; the gentle murmuring between two people as they fade off into sleep holding each other. Do I really want that? Do I really want to feel even more isolated and alone than I feel now? But can I really give up the opportunity to buy now and lose out on all the great reasons to purchase a home?
I've already decided that I don't want a condo; I don't want to pay some condo association $250 a month to take out my trash and shovel my walkway. I can't justify paying the same amount in rent that I would for a mortgage payment and having nothing to show for it. And I sure as hell won't live at my parents' house until I find the right woman and get married. Basically...I'm fucked because I want to buy a house but not be lonely inside of it. Awesome.
Speaking of being fucked (and I'm not going to an inappropriate place, don't worry) I had the pleasure of sitting next to a bunch of my ex's friends at a bridal shower today. The men of the wedding party were bribed into going with promises of free food and good-looking women. I actually had a blast though I had to duck out a little early. It was just ironic that I ended up at the same table as four women who graduated with my ex. Well, not really ironic, per se, since the bride-to-be also graduated with her. It was just a little awkward to be sitting next to a woman who doesn't really talk to my ex anymore and didn't know for sure that we'd even broken up until I talked to her (yikes); a woman I went to high school with who is fabulous in every way but is still really good friends with the ex; a woman who I've only seen when I was with my ex so I always associate her with said ex; and a woman whose wedding reception I went to in October of last year - the place at which I realized that I was no longer in love with the person my ex had become, leading to my decision to dump her three days later. Yeah, that was awesome.
So, where am I at now? I'm afraid to leave my family behind because they need me. I'm afraid to buy a house because I know I'm going to end up with a raging case of space madness from being alone all the time. I'm pretty sure the last seven years of my life are going haunt me for as long as they can. I'm afraid that I'm not going to have anyone to share my fears with other than this fucking blog and a night or two out with friends who either:
a) don't understand;
b) even worse, do understand but can't open up because we're surrounded by other people who don't understand; or
c) worst of all, think they understand but, since they don't, I could give a fuck less what their opinions are.
And people wonder why I drink so goddamn much.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
...and the living's easy.
It's funny; I didn't originally intend this blog to be some therapeutic mechanism for me. I was just hoping for some funny musings on life with just a dash of cynicism, wit, and maybe a life lesson or two mixed in. Then again, maybe deep down this was the direction I always intended to take it. I've always been the type of person who needs to get things off my chest; "introverted" is not a word usually used to describe me and I'm proud of that. Introspective, sure, but not shy. Maybe this blog was always destined to be a place where I can discuss me with...well, me.
This seems to be working for me; you know, it's ironic (on a conscious level, anyway) that I started this blog up pretty soon after I got engaged. Maybe I saw it all coming and just needed to start venting now; maybe that way I wouldn't have started a blog simply as a vehicle to explode after I became single. I'm just waiting for the day when I can mark milestones with something else besides either "since I got engaged" or "since I've been single". It's a little depressing and, to be frank, more than a little pathetic.
Alas, the blog has mutated into something that isn't going to draw people in. And maybe I'm ok with that now. Although I will tell you that I learned a few things last night at the Celtics game:
1) I think I'm pretty much done with Family Guy. Some drunk 40-something tried to chat me up about them and I realized that he's too goddamn old to be watching it. And then I realized that maybe I'm too old to be watching it. Sure it's funny sometimes, but do I really still want to spend my Sunday nights tethered to the TV watching cartoons? I'm starting to think the answer is "no", especially since the weather is going to get nicer real soon.
1a) Corollary to #1: I intend to enjoy this summer. No excessive work hours, no dealing with other peoples' self-loathing, none of that. I'm just going to enjoy being alive and being happily surrounded by my friends. In fact, if someday I wake up to realize that I'm stuck in a Groundhog's Day situation forever, I would hope that day would be an 80-degree day in June: wake up around 7:00; hit a round of golf; take a shower; pick up some quality encased meats at Karl's Sausage Kitchen; buy some Sam Summer; invite people over; and spend the day in the sunshine, grilling and eating, drinking and laughing and playing games. People would download whatever they wanted to hear off of iTunes, I'd put it on the iPod, and it would play all day through my speaker dock. Then we'd get the fire pit going once the sun went down and make s'mores until we all just fell asleep on blankets on the grass. If there were a heaven, that would be it for me.
You know what? I don't care anymore about the list of things I learned yesterday. Imagining the perfect day while I typed that literally made my week. I like feeling that good; it makes me hopeful that the shit going on in my head over the last week or so is only temporary, like this week-long rain storm that's going to evolve into an 80-degree Saturday.
I feel my thoughts becoming more scattered over the past couple of weeks. I think "restless" is the word I'm looking for. I both love and hate the fact that I'm single coming into the spring; I love being able to go out and meet people but I hate not being able to share with someone every great thing I'm feeling because of the weather. I used to love bringing a blanket down to the Common and just laying there with someone, reading a book and getting some sun or even just talking and laughing with a picnic lunch and wondering why everyone else was doing something other than just being there on the grass.
You know what else is great? I finally had a memory of the past seven years involving my ex that wasn't accompanied by any bitterness whatsoever. That's actually the first time that's happened "since I've been single". Wonders never cease. I feel better than I have in ages, just because of that. Well, I'll be goddamned. On that note, I'm off to bed.
Note: I apologize to anyone who actually read this whole thing and is still wondering what the hell the point was. I know it's not the most interesting read in the world because it's just an outward inner monologue at this point. But I feel great, so I'm not really sorry. If you stop reading this blog, I hope you enjoyed your stay. But I feel great. Good night!
This seems to be working for me; you know, it's ironic (on a conscious level, anyway) that I started this blog up pretty soon after I got engaged. Maybe I saw it all coming and just needed to start venting now; maybe that way I wouldn't have started a blog simply as a vehicle to explode after I became single. I'm just waiting for the day when I can mark milestones with something else besides either "since I got engaged" or "since I've been single". It's a little depressing and, to be frank, more than a little pathetic.
Alas, the blog has mutated into something that isn't going to draw people in. And maybe I'm ok with that now. Although I will tell you that I learned a few things last night at the Celtics game:
1) I think I'm pretty much done with Family Guy. Some drunk 40-something tried to chat me up about them and I realized that he's too goddamn old to be watching it. And then I realized that maybe I'm too old to be watching it. Sure it's funny sometimes, but do I really still want to spend my Sunday nights tethered to the TV watching cartoons? I'm starting to think the answer is "no", especially since the weather is going to get nicer real soon.
1a) Corollary to #1: I intend to enjoy this summer. No excessive work hours, no dealing with other peoples' self-loathing, none of that. I'm just going to enjoy being alive and being happily surrounded by my friends. In fact, if someday I wake up to realize that I'm stuck in a Groundhog's Day situation forever, I would hope that day would be an 80-degree day in June: wake up around 7:00; hit a round of golf; take a shower; pick up some quality encased meats at Karl's Sausage Kitchen; buy some Sam Summer; invite people over; and spend the day in the sunshine, grilling and eating, drinking and laughing and playing games. People would download whatever they wanted to hear off of iTunes, I'd put it on the iPod, and it would play all day through my speaker dock. Then we'd get the fire pit going once the sun went down and make s'mores until we all just fell asleep on blankets on the grass. If there were a heaven, that would be it for me.
You know what? I don't care anymore about the list of things I learned yesterday. Imagining the perfect day while I typed that literally made my week. I like feeling that good; it makes me hopeful that the shit going on in my head over the last week or so is only temporary, like this week-long rain storm that's going to evolve into an 80-degree Saturday.
I feel my thoughts becoming more scattered over the past couple of weeks. I think "restless" is the word I'm looking for. I both love and hate the fact that I'm single coming into the spring; I love being able to go out and meet people but I hate not being able to share with someone every great thing I'm feeling because of the weather. I used to love bringing a blanket down to the Common and just laying there with someone, reading a book and getting some sun or even just talking and laughing with a picnic lunch and wondering why everyone else was doing something other than just being there on the grass.
You know what else is great? I finally had a memory of the past seven years involving my ex that wasn't accompanied by any bitterness whatsoever. That's actually the first time that's happened "since I've been single". Wonders never cease. I feel better than I have in ages, just because of that. Well, I'll be goddamned. On that note, I'm off to bed.
Note: I apologize to anyone who actually read this whole thing and is still wondering what the hell the point was. I know it's not the most interesting read in the world because it's just an outward inner monologue at this point. But I feel great, so I'm not really sorry. If you stop reading this blog, I hope you enjoyed your stay. But I feel great. Good night!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Abundance
So I wrote something last night. I'm not sure if it's a song (because it doesn't rhyme), a poem (because I didn't follow any sort of rhythm), or a story (because it's not terrible coherent). I guess it's a jumbled mess, and it's my mess. And it's called Abundance. And now I know how you know I'm gay.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have so much anger inside of me sometimes
that I just want to punch right through the wall.
Instead, I work out and I strain myself.
I'd like to say that it feels good,
that the pain, the sweat, the fatigue,
that they all make me feel more alive
more vital.
But that's a lie.
I do it because as shitty as I feel
as tired, sweaty, and overheated as I end up,
it's still better than how I was feeling before.
When my anger was all I could think about.
Now I'm too tired to care.
Maybe that's why people have kids.
Maybe the the constant sense of exhaustion
keeps you from going insane
keeps you from rolling over
and hating who you've become
or what you've become.
Maybe this is as good as it gets.
I have so much to offer to someone else
that gets lost in the shuffle of youth.
The packaging ain't pretty and it ain't neat;
it isn't something you run to on Christmas morning.
I'd like to say I have so much patience,
waiting for the right one to open me up
and get the the best surprise of her life.
Something genuine, something hopeful,
something else entirely.
I had that once, you know;
she opened me up and I was sparkly, shiny, warm.
And then I lost my gleam
And then I lost her.
Islanded in a stream of unlearned lessons
because people don't change
they just pretend, over and over.
I'm re-gifted to no one, tucked in a drawer
the wrong color sweater, headed for Goodwill
I'd take any good will at this point.
I have so much contempt for the world
A world that refuses to change
because change is fucking HARD.
It doesn't happen overnight
it won't make you richer
it won't make you prettier on the outside.
And if you don't get unwrapped then you don't get seen.
We all like the idea of "new and improved"
but we don't want new. Not really. Just improved.
"New" would imply having learned something,
having made a self-discovery or two
A moment of clarity
People would rather the ugly duckling turn into the swan
but continue to think like the duckling
than for the duckling to accept itself
and become the swan from the inside out.
It ain't pretty but it's worth it.
I have so much hope that someday
someday soon
I'm going to have my moment.
My moment of undiluted vision
A moment that glares so bright
no packaging will be able to hide it.
You'll be able to see it
no matter how hideous the distraction
No matter what obstacles trick the eye.
And then someone will be smart enough to open me up
It will be the greatest gift I can give
To offer everything I have in this life
And they'll love it
So Much.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have so much anger inside of me sometimes
that I just want to punch right through the wall.
Instead, I work out and I strain myself.
I'd like to say that it feels good,
that the pain, the sweat, the fatigue,
that they all make me feel more alive
more vital.
But that's a lie.
I do it because as shitty as I feel
as tired, sweaty, and overheated as I end up,
it's still better than how I was feeling before.
When my anger was all I could think about.
Now I'm too tired to care.
Maybe that's why people have kids.
Maybe the the constant sense of exhaustion
keeps you from going insane
keeps you from rolling over
and hating who you've become
or what you've become.
Maybe this is as good as it gets.
I have so much to offer to someone else
that gets lost in the shuffle of youth.
The packaging ain't pretty and it ain't neat;
it isn't something you run to on Christmas morning.
I'd like to say I have so much patience,
waiting for the right one to open me up
and get the the best surprise of her life.
Something genuine, something hopeful,
something else entirely.
I had that once, you know;
she opened me up and I was sparkly, shiny, warm.
And then I lost my gleam
And then I lost her.
Islanded in a stream of unlearned lessons
because people don't change
they just pretend, over and over.
I'm re-gifted to no one, tucked in a drawer
the wrong color sweater, headed for Goodwill
I'd take any good will at this point.
I have so much contempt for the world
A world that refuses to change
because change is fucking HARD.
It doesn't happen overnight
it won't make you richer
it won't make you prettier on the outside.
And if you don't get unwrapped then you don't get seen.
We all like the idea of "new and improved"
but we don't want new. Not really. Just improved.
"New" would imply having learned something,
having made a self-discovery or two
A moment of clarity
People would rather the ugly duckling turn into the swan
but continue to think like the duckling
than for the duckling to accept itself
and become the swan from the inside out.
It ain't pretty but it's worth it.
I have so much hope that someday
someday soon
I'm going to have my moment.
My moment of undiluted vision
A moment that glares so bright
no packaging will be able to hide it.
You'll be able to see it
no matter how hideous the distraction
No matter what obstacles trick the eye.
And then someone will be smart enough to open me up
It will be the greatest gift I can give
To offer everything I have in this life
And they'll love it
So Much.
Monday, March 23, 2009
On the 5th day of dating, some woman said to me...
I go on dates.
I know, that seems like a pretty lame opening for a blog post, but I think people sometimes forget that I go on dates. I go on dates nearly every week, whether it be with someone from a bar, someone from a show, a friend or a friend, or wherever else there are available ladies. Recently, for whatever reason, I have been trying (against my nature) to force myself to be interested in people who I normally would want nothing to do with for one reason or another. I don't know if I'm just getting desperate for new blood or what, but I have been trying to fit a square peg into a round hole (that's what she said) for months now.
I was speaking to a female friend of mine and she asked me point-blank: "you seem to find fault with so many people you date; are you just making up excuses? Do you actually have a list of attributes you can and cannot tolerate in a female companion?" Yes, she said "female companion"; can you tell she's older and married? And I thought to myself, well, I guess I've never made a list but I must know what I like and don't like, right? I can't be making up excuses in order to keep myself aloof, could I?
So now I'm making a list. This is a list of the things I cannot tolerate in a "female companion", as well as a list of things I need. These are the things that, at this current moment in my life, directly affect my desire to go on a second date or possibly beyond with a woman. So now you can call me out if you hear something come out of my mouth about a woman from a date that wasn't on this list, ok?
Things I CANNOT deal with if we're ever going to have a future together:
1) You smoke regularly or "just when you're drunk". - Smoking on a regular or even semi-regular basis drives me batshit insane for so many reasons. I'm not saying that I don't indulge in a cigar or two per year, but I've never had more than five in a calendar year for as long as I remember and always for an occasion: a golf outing, an outdoor summer party, etc. Not just because it's Tuesday morning and daddy needs his fix.
There's just something so much more vile about cigarettes and the women who smoke them for various reasons. For starters, they smell terrible; they're either reeking of smoke or they're doused in perfume meant to mask the smoke smell. Thanks for the consideration of my nostrils, but if I want to be knocked out by vapors I'll just huff the can of spray paint in my trunk from a ShamWow. Or I could suck down eight cans of computer duster and end up on TV.
And ladies, here's a tip about using the "only when I'm drunk" line for most situations: if you use it, I'll assume that you're drunk most of the time and that you're a skank. It's just been my experience, that's all. And that goes for smoking, drugs, eating a package of under-heated TGI Friday's Potato Skins, and anal...among other things. Or so I've heard. Drinking socially is fine; keeping your local establishment in business single-handedly is not.
2) You're asleep every night before 10:30pm because you'll be a wreck the next day. - Sorry, I don't date senior citizens. I'll be 28 years old in a month. On a typical day I work until 6pm, come home for dinner, and go to the gym. Lately I've also had to contend with rehearsals, performances, an abnormal volume of birthday parties, and helping plan a bachelor party in Vegas.
Here's a secret to how I contend with all that and still manage to keep a social life: I'm not sixty years old. Seriously, if our "relationship" consists of either seeing you or talking to you via the phone on weekdays for the thirty minutes between when I get home from the gym/rehearsal and when you head off to bed, we're not going to make it. I'll guarantee it. I did that for the last year or so of my last serious relationship, and the only reason I put up with it at all is because I spent way too much money to bind myself to her.
3) Your crippling insecurity. - We all get insecure. I'm not terribly happy with how I've let my body deteriorate since college; there's a reason I'm at the gym four nights a week minimum. Sometimes I don't feel as attractive as usual. We all feel that way. The difference is, for the most part I really do like myself. I've never been the type to lack much for confidence or ego because what I may lack in physical appearance I make up for in spades with charm, wit, humor, compassion, and modesty.
You, on the other hand, can barely look me in the eye when you speak to me. You are constantly putting yourself down, or, even worse, speaking ill of others just to make yourself look better or more important. In reality, the kind of person who does that on a constant basis is repulsive to me. I don't want to here how awful someone else is; I want to hear what's great about you and I want to feel like you believe it. Confidence is just so damn sexy. And fake confidence is just so damn transparent.
4) Your need to seem "mysterious" and "complicated". - If you feel the need to play the "you wouldn't understand" or "you wouldn't want to know; it's a long story" cards, then you're right; I no longer give a fuck what you're talking about. I'd rather just take you home.
I'm all about open dialogue (obviously). I want to know what you're feeling, what you're thinking, what make you tick. Tell me about you; you're the reason I'm on the date in the first place. Well, that and the whole "sex" thing, though I won't have sex with someone I wouldn't want to date. Seems a bit hypocritical and desperate otherwise, doesn't it?
The less I feel that you're telling me...I should say, the more I think you're hiding from me, the less chance I ever want to see you again. Being coy is one thing (and that can be quite hot); not being able to carry on a conversation without continuously and inexplicably changing the conversation every two minutes is a different beast entirely.
5) No fat chicks. - I'm just kidding.
::shakes head no::
Things the must be present is we're going to have any future together:
1) You need to be funny. - Humor is the most important thing in a "female companion". If you don't laugh at observational, crude-at-times, deadpan-at-times, embarassing-at-times humor then you're not the one for me. Dead baby jokes died out long ago, funny stories about your pet or the kids you nanny for aren't funny unless one of them ends up on fire or I am personally acquainted with them, and "you had to be there" stories aren't amusing if I wasn't there. If I use a line from the Simpsons, Super Troopers, an Adam Sandler movie, Old School, a Jud Apatow movie, or Family Guy and you don't get it, you're walking home. I'm serious.
Also, Dane Cook is terrible. I suppose I can understand how he might be attractive to women, but let me throw at little S.A.T. action at you:
Dane Cook : Comedy :: AIDS : Africa
2) You need to be at least somewhat interested in sports. - If the Celtics are about to win a championship on your birthday, I'll forego it for you. I'll foresake watching the first Celtics championship win in seventeen years to take you out to dinner, whisk you off your feet, bring you home, and do to you whatever you want for as long as you want.
If you choose instead to head back to your place and then skip the sex to gossip with your roommate/co-worker about the people you work with while you both correct tests while I sit and stew in silent rage because I am trying to be a good boyfriend and not watch the game while you ignore me...we're going to have a serious problem. Ideally, I'd want you to want to watch the game with me but I'd settle for a little understanding that I'm foregoing something important to me to make your birthday something you'll remember years down the road.
And if we can't watch a Sox or Pats game without you turning and asking me what a strikeout or extra point is, you're leaving wherever we are at the time. End of discussion. You want to know what the infield fly rule is? A decent question and I'm happy to answer it. Not sure about the difference between a nickel and a dime defense? Hell, I'll draw you a diagram. If you ask me why so many people like "that Brady guy" so much, I will never respect you. Also, pink hats are BARELY acceptable as accessories; pink jerseys = trailer park. Don't forget that.
3) You will have to like my friends. - If you make me choose between them and you, especially over something petty, I'm choosing them. EVERY TIME. They were here before you and they will be here after you.
4) You need to know how to dress. - Women look HOT in jeans and a t-shirt. Men know this. But you can't wear pants everywhere you go. Skirts are not the enemy. Pantsuits are for lesbians and ugly people. Heels are always a turn-on. Sweatpants are great for around the house or a weekend breakfast jaunt. For a bar? Not so much.
I put time and energy into my appearance because I want to look good when I'm in public and because I want you to look at me and say "wow" once in a while. If I don't see your hair out of a ponytail for weeks on end then you're probably not going to hear "wow" come out of my mouth unless it's followed with "did you just wake up?"
5) You need to be open about what you're feeling and thinking, and be receptive to my thoughts and feelings. - Are you the kind of person that bottles up all of their anger and refuses to speak up when little things bother you until one day you snap and it comes out one day as a flood of emotion, hatred, and irrationality just because I ended a sentence with a preposition? Then to the back of the line with you, please.
If something bothers you, tell me. If I can fix something I'm doing wrong or be a shoulder to lean/cry on then I'm happy to do it. If something make you happy, tell me; I'll keep doing it or I'll find a way to keep it going somehow. If you don't want to talk about it at that precise moment then say so; don't lie to me and say "nothing" is bothering you. There's a huge difference the size of the Pacific Ocean between "nothing" and "I don't want to talk about it right now". I'll respect one but not the other, and
***HINT***
it's not the lie I'll respect.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So that's about it. That's who I want, in a nutshell. And until I find someone like that I'll keep dating and searching, searching and dating. For those of you who have found their someone, congrats; I'm happy for you. For those who haven't, relax; being picky isn't a bad thing, it's a smart thing. Saves you from the heartache later.
Good night, all.
I know, that seems like a pretty lame opening for a blog post, but I think people sometimes forget that I go on dates. I go on dates nearly every week, whether it be with someone from a bar, someone from a show, a friend or a friend, or wherever else there are available ladies. Recently, for whatever reason, I have been trying (against my nature) to force myself to be interested in people who I normally would want nothing to do with for one reason or another. I don't know if I'm just getting desperate for new blood or what, but I have been trying to fit a square peg into a round hole (that's what she said) for months now.
I was speaking to a female friend of mine and she asked me point-blank: "you seem to find fault with so many people you date; are you just making up excuses? Do you actually have a list of attributes you can and cannot tolerate in a female companion?" Yes, she said "female companion"; can you tell she's older and married? And I thought to myself, well, I guess I've never made a list but I must know what I like and don't like, right? I can't be making up excuses in order to keep myself aloof, could I?
So now I'm making a list. This is a list of the things I cannot tolerate in a "female companion", as well as a list of things I need. These are the things that, at this current moment in my life, directly affect my desire to go on a second date or possibly beyond with a woman. So now you can call me out if you hear something come out of my mouth about a woman from a date that wasn't on this list, ok?
Things I CANNOT deal with if we're ever going to have a future together:
1) You smoke regularly or "just when you're drunk". - Smoking on a regular or even semi-regular basis drives me batshit insane for so many reasons. I'm not saying that I don't indulge in a cigar or two per year, but I've never had more than five in a calendar year for as long as I remember and always for an occasion: a golf outing, an outdoor summer party, etc. Not just because it's Tuesday morning and daddy needs his fix.
There's just something so much more vile about cigarettes and the women who smoke them for various reasons. For starters, they smell terrible; they're either reeking of smoke or they're doused in perfume meant to mask the smoke smell. Thanks for the consideration of my nostrils, but if I want to be knocked out by vapors I'll just huff the can of spray paint in my trunk from a ShamWow. Or I could suck down eight cans of computer duster and end up on TV.
And ladies, here's a tip about using the "only when I'm drunk" line for most situations: if you use it, I'll assume that you're drunk most of the time and that you're a skank. It's just been my experience, that's all. And that goes for smoking, drugs, eating a package of under-heated TGI Friday's Potato Skins, and anal...among other things. Or so I've heard. Drinking socially is fine; keeping your local establishment in business single-handedly is not.
2) You're asleep every night before 10:30pm because you'll be a wreck the next day. - Sorry, I don't date senior citizens. I'll be 28 years old in a month. On a typical day I work until 6pm, come home for dinner, and go to the gym. Lately I've also had to contend with rehearsals, performances, an abnormal volume of birthday parties, and helping plan a bachelor party in Vegas.
Here's a secret to how I contend with all that and still manage to keep a social life: I'm not sixty years old. Seriously, if our "relationship" consists of either seeing you or talking to you via the phone on weekdays for the thirty minutes between when I get home from the gym/rehearsal and when you head off to bed, we're not going to make it. I'll guarantee it. I did that for the last year or so of my last serious relationship, and the only reason I put up with it at all is because I spent way too much money to bind myself to her.
3) Your crippling insecurity. - We all get insecure. I'm not terribly happy with how I've let my body deteriorate since college; there's a reason I'm at the gym four nights a week minimum. Sometimes I don't feel as attractive as usual. We all feel that way. The difference is, for the most part I really do like myself. I've never been the type to lack much for confidence or ego because what I may lack in physical appearance I make up for in spades with charm, wit, humor, compassion, and modesty.
You, on the other hand, can barely look me in the eye when you speak to me. You are constantly putting yourself down, or, even worse, speaking ill of others just to make yourself look better or more important. In reality, the kind of person who does that on a constant basis is repulsive to me. I don't want to here how awful someone else is; I want to hear what's great about you and I want to feel like you believe it. Confidence is just so damn sexy. And fake confidence is just so damn transparent.
4) Your need to seem "mysterious" and "complicated". - If you feel the need to play the "you wouldn't understand" or "you wouldn't want to know; it's a long story" cards, then you're right; I no longer give a fuck what you're talking about. I'd rather just take you home.
I'm all about open dialogue (obviously). I want to know what you're feeling, what you're thinking, what make you tick. Tell me about you; you're the reason I'm on the date in the first place. Well, that and the whole "sex" thing, though I won't have sex with someone I wouldn't want to date. Seems a bit hypocritical and desperate otherwise, doesn't it?
The less I feel that you're telling me...I should say, the more I think you're hiding from me, the less chance I ever want to see you again. Being coy is one thing (and that can be quite hot); not being able to carry on a conversation without continuously and inexplicably changing the conversation every two minutes is a different beast entirely.
5) No fat chicks. - I'm just kidding.
::shakes head no::
Things the must be present is we're going to have any future together:
1) You need to be funny. - Humor is the most important thing in a "female companion". If you don't laugh at observational, crude-at-times, deadpan-at-times, embarassing-at-times humor then you're not the one for me. Dead baby jokes died out long ago, funny stories about your pet or the kids you nanny for aren't funny unless one of them ends up on fire or I am personally acquainted with them, and "you had to be there" stories aren't amusing if I wasn't there. If I use a line from the Simpsons, Super Troopers, an Adam Sandler movie, Old School, a Jud Apatow movie, or Family Guy and you don't get it, you're walking home. I'm serious.
Also, Dane Cook is terrible. I suppose I can understand how he might be attractive to women, but let me throw at little S.A.T. action at you:
Dane Cook : Comedy :: AIDS : Africa
2) You need to be at least somewhat interested in sports. - If the Celtics are about to win a championship on your birthday, I'll forego it for you. I'll foresake watching the first Celtics championship win in seventeen years to take you out to dinner, whisk you off your feet, bring you home, and do to you whatever you want for as long as you want.
If you choose instead to head back to your place and then skip the sex to gossip with your roommate/co-worker about the people you work with while you both correct tests while I sit and stew in silent rage because I am trying to be a good boyfriend and not watch the game while you ignore me...we're going to have a serious problem. Ideally, I'd want you to want to watch the game with me but I'd settle for a little understanding that I'm foregoing something important to me to make your birthday something you'll remember years down the road.
And if we can't watch a Sox or Pats game without you turning and asking me what a strikeout or extra point is, you're leaving wherever we are at the time. End of discussion. You want to know what the infield fly rule is? A decent question and I'm happy to answer it. Not sure about the difference between a nickel and a dime defense? Hell, I'll draw you a diagram. If you ask me why so many people like "that Brady guy" so much, I will never respect you. Also, pink hats are BARELY acceptable as accessories; pink jerseys = trailer park. Don't forget that.
3) You will have to like my friends. - If you make me choose between them and you, especially over something petty, I'm choosing them. EVERY TIME. They were here before you and they will be here after you.
4) You need to know how to dress. - Women look HOT in jeans and a t-shirt. Men know this. But you can't wear pants everywhere you go. Skirts are not the enemy. Pantsuits are for lesbians and ugly people. Heels are always a turn-on. Sweatpants are great for around the house or a weekend breakfast jaunt. For a bar? Not so much.
I put time and energy into my appearance because I want to look good when I'm in public and because I want you to look at me and say "wow" once in a while. If I don't see your hair out of a ponytail for weeks on end then you're probably not going to hear "wow" come out of my mouth unless it's followed with "did you just wake up?"
5) You need to be open about what you're feeling and thinking, and be receptive to my thoughts and feelings. - Are you the kind of person that bottles up all of their anger and refuses to speak up when little things bother you until one day you snap and it comes out one day as a flood of emotion, hatred, and irrationality just because I ended a sentence with a preposition? Then to the back of the line with you, please.
If something bothers you, tell me. If I can fix something I'm doing wrong or be a shoulder to lean/cry on then I'm happy to do it. If something make you happy, tell me; I'll keep doing it or I'll find a way to keep it going somehow. If you don't want to talk about it at that precise moment then say so; don't lie to me and say "nothing" is bothering you. There's a huge difference the size of the Pacific Ocean between "nothing" and "I don't want to talk about it right now". I'll respect one but not the other, and
***HINT***
it's not the lie I'll respect.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So that's about it. That's who I want, in a nutshell. And until I find someone like that I'll keep dating and searching, searching and dating. For those of you who have found their someone, congrats; I'm happy for you. For those who haven't, relax; being picky isn't a bad thing, it's a smart thing. Saves you from the heartache later.
Good night, all.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
So say we all.
The last episode of Battlestar Galactica just aired a little while ago. I'm a little sad. I mean, I'm happy that I was able to get into this show even late in the game and I'm glad I was able to bear witness to a great show. It's probably the most well-written show I've ever watched. But, of course, once you have an emotional attachment to a character or show and suddenly "THE END" rolls around, it's bound to make a person sad. I am not exempt from this.
When something that I'm attached to comes to an end, I like to reflect on it. I'll mostly keep to myself and ruminate about what the event meant to me and how I can learn from it. I don't usually get to jostled or riled up during that time because it always seems too distracting and almost rude to the memory and happy thoughts involved with being a part of something, even something as passive as a television show (and by "passive" I mean that literally all I did is watch; I had no hand in the actual show).
A big part of BSG is the will of man wrestling with the path of destiny; the whim of a higher being, if you will. Are we pulled toward our final destination? Are our choices already pre-ordained even when we think we're being clever and unpredictable? Or is the destiny of each and every person directed solely by their actions, their choices? Is it a mix of both, like a Choose Your Own Adventure book?
The show dealt a great deal with angels and gods. I like the idea of angels; spiritual beings meant to provide guidance in times of great upheaval and peril. I'd like to think that when I'm at my lowest an angel might come and lighten the load off of my shoulders and nudge me toward my destiny, toward the right decision, toward God's path. That's the kind of thing that I wish I could put my faith in to make me sleep a little easier at night and clear my head.
But religion's a steaming pile of lies.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I firmly believe that these days, religion is more responsible for the decaying status of this planet than a lot of other ills. Religion is outdated; it may have been necessary back when people didn't have the tools to predict tornadoes, or when there was no real justification for peasants NOT rising up and killing their lords. But now religion does more harm than good, and that is across the board.
There's this constant struggle among human beings to show superiority over one another; religion is just one of the oldest tools of that alpha-male bullshit. This faith hates that faith; one claims their holy land on another's soil; one believes in aliens from millions of years ago, claiming that you can be cleansed of their ghosts...as long as you pay for it.
The rules may be different but the results are the same: do as we tell you and you'll be fine; disobey and you'll end up living the worst existence possible forever and ever. Killing yourself is either a mortal sin or the work of a martyr. Eating pork is either verboten or a key ingredient to the perfect hamburger. Cows are either sacred...or yet another key ingredient to the perfect hamburger.
There are so many religions and so many rules, it's impossible to keep them all straight. Not only that, but most religions feel it's their duty to spread their dogmas into the realms of science, medicine, and politics, further polluting our ability as a society to explore, discover, and grow.
Did you know a Texas state representative introduced a bill allowing the Institute for Creation Research to be able to grant Masters of Science degrees? No, I'm not fucking kidding. The group that believes that Earth was created only 6,000 years ago and that carbon dating is "misunderstood by scientists" wants to give out fucking GRADUATE degrees for science. Of course, those who don't believe in creationism are simply out to "get" religion and those who believe in it. It couldn't be that 99% of the evidence out there completely craps on creationism's enormous gaps in logic. Nope, it's all about revenge, obviously.
You see, that's how religion pulls you in, by always making it an "us vs. them" issue. THEY'RE doing the work of God/Allah/Xenu so therefore those who AREN'T doing God/Allah/Xenu's work are obviously hellbent on stamping the true believers out. So rise to the occasion, take up arms, and fight for what you believe in! Or just send us money and go around convincing people that they're wrong and you're right!
Religion naturally calls to the more unstable among us in society. People are looking for an escape from their problems. They aren't sure where to turn for guidance. Suddenly, a group comes along that says "all of your answers are in this easy-to-carry book! Just follow the teachings of people we've designated as experts and they'll lead you to peace of mind!" OF COURSE THAT WORKS; there are a ton of people out there who would love to hand over control of their conflicted beliefs to a group promising all of the answers. Those people aren't necessarily stupid, they're just unable to cope with their problems. Some turn to drugs, others turn to religion.
Recently, the Pope made some comments that perpetuated the Catholic church's stance on birth control and in the process made himself look like a backward-thinking buffoon who simply regurgitates doctrine without forethought. He not only opposed the spread of contraception in Africa (where in some places 50% of a given region's population has AIDS) but actually said (and I shit you not) that condoms may actually make the AIDS problem worse.
Digest that for a minute. The Pope, the spiritual leader of hundreds of millions of people across the world, shits on EVERY. SINGLE. TRUTH. that people know about contraception and the spread of AIDS by suggesting that using a condom to protect oneself or someone else from getting AIDS might actually make the problem WORSE. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
Listen, I understand why Christians frown on contraception. As stupid as the reason is, as idiotic an idea as "life begins at conception" is, I understand that they feel that way. And maybe, maybe, you could make the argument that contraception makes people more susceptible to the temptation of sex (you know, if that made any sense to use that logic for a continent where women are already being raped left and right). LEAVE IT AT THAT, YOU SENILE FUCKING IDIOT. There was no need to expound on that idea by inferring that the LAST thing the African people need on a continent that is simply being ravaged by AIDS is PROTECTION FROM AIDS. FUCK.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here's what kills me the most about religion: people who follow it pick and choose what they want to believe. You either believe that Jonah was swallowed by a whale or you don't. You either believe that being a martyr is a worthy achievement or you don't. But here's the thing: you can't believe in your book of choice as the written testament and "proof" that your religion is valid and then cherry pick which parts of it you want to believe.
If you want to tell me that the Bible says it's wrong to be gay in Leviticus and therefore being gay is wrong, PERIOD, then fine. Just know that the punishment according to the same passage is death. And while we're doing the Lord's bidding with the killing and the smiting, let's not forget all of the other grave sins that are punishable by death in Leviticus:
Cursing at your mother or father!
Cheating on a spouse!
Having sex with your wife while she's on her period!
Wow, I'm sure that no one who believes in the Bible has ever done any of those things or else they'd be lining up at churches all over the world to be killed. Right? Hey, at least the Bible doesn't say you can beat your wife if you see fit! Nope, that's reserved for the Koran!
You either believe in the tenets of your religion or you don't. If you use birth control, you're not Christian. If you eat pork, you're not Jewish. If you don't wear long underwear, you're not Mormon. That's it; being a selective member of a religion makes you a non-member of that religion. Well, unless you want to use the handy reset button known as confession. Over and over and over again. Another phenomenal cop-out to keep people coming back and donating money.
The idea of unseen forces looking out for you seems nice, it really does. But it's bullshit, all of it, and all religion does is hold people back from learning things about themselves and the world. Religion is making the world dumber: curbing vital stem-cell research, teaching children creationism, spreading hatred toward people of different sexual orientation (or in some cases, race...hi Mormons!), and stifling the desire to explore the world because of the belief that if God wanted us to know it we'd know it already.
Think for yourselves. Explore for yourselves. Understand that the fairytale was put in place to keep you from having to think too hard. And remember kids, only you can prevent ethnic and religious cleansing.
And forest fires.
When something that I'm attached to comes to an end, I like to reflect on it. I'll mostly keep to myself and ruminate about what the event meant to me and how I can learn from it. I don't usually get to jostled or riled up during that time because it always seems too distracting and almost rude to the memory and happy thoughts involved with being a part of something, even something as passive as a television show (and by "passive" I mean that literally all I did is watch; I had no hand in the actual show).
A big part of BSG is the will of man wrestling with the path of destiny; the whim of a higher being, if you will. Are we pulled toward our final destination? Are our choices already pre-ordained even when we think we're being clever and unpredictable? Or is the destiny of each and every person directed solely by their actions, their choices? Is it a mix of both, like a Choose Your Own Adventure book?
The show dealt a great deal with angels and gods. I like the idea of angels; spiritual beings meant to provide guidance in times of great upheaval and peril. I'd like to think that when I'm at my lowest an angel might come and lighten the load off of my shoulders and nudge me toward my destiny, toward the right decision, toward God's path. That's the kind of thing that I wish I could put my faith in to make me sleep a little easier at night and clear my head.
But religion's a steaming pile of lies.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I firmly believe that these days, religion is more responsible for the decaying status of this planet than a lot of other ills. Religion is outdated; it may have been necessary back when people didn't have the tools to predict tornadoes, or when there was no real justification for peasants NOT rising up and killing their lords. But now religion does more harm than good, and that is across the board.
There's this constant struggle among human beings to show superiority over one another; religion is just one of the oldest tools of that alpha-male bullshit. This faith hates that faith; one claims their holy land on another's soil; one believes in aliens from millions of years ago, claiming that you can be cleansed of their ghosts...as long as you pay for it.
The rules may be different but the results are the same: do as we tell you and you'll be fine; disobey and you'll end up living the worst existence possible forever and ever. Killing yourself is either a mortal sin or the work of a martyr. Eating pork is either verboten or a key ingredient to the perfect hamburger. Cows are either sacred...or yet another key ingredient to the perfect hamburger.
There are so many religions and so many rules, it's impossible to keep them all straight. Not only that, but most religions feel it's their duty to spread their dogmas into the realms of science, medicine, and politics, further polluting our ability as a society to explore, discover, and grow.
Did you know a Texas state representative introduced a bill allowing the Institute for Creation Research to be able to grant Masters of Science degrees? No, I'm not fucking kidding. The group that believes that Earth was created only 6,000 years ago and that carbon dating is "misunderstood by scientists" wants to give out fucking GRADUATE degrees for science. Of course, those who don't believe in creationism are simply out to "get" religion and those who believe in it. It couldn't be that 99% of the evidence out there completely craps on creationism's enormous gaps in logic. Nope, it's all about revenge, obviously.
You see, that's how religion pulls you in, by always making it an "us vs. them" issue. THEY'RE doing the work of God/Allah/Xenu so therefore those who AREN'T doing God/Allah/Xenu's work are obviously hellbent on stamping the true believers out. So rise to the occasion, take up arms, and fight for what you believe in! Or just send us money and go around convincing people that they're wrong and you're right!
Religion naturally calls to the more unstable among us in society. People are looking for an escape from their problems. They aren't sure where to turn for guidance. Suddenly, a group comes along that says "all of your answers are in this easy-to-carry book! Just follow the teachings of people we've designated as experts and they'll lead you to peace of mind!" OF COURSE THAT WORKS; there are a ton of people out there who would love to hand over control of their conflicted beliefs to a group promising all of the answers. Those people aren't necessarily stupid, they're just unable to cope with their problems. Some turn to drugs, others turn to religion.
Recently, the Pope made some comments that perpetuated the Catholic church's stance on birth control and in the process made himself look like a backward-thinking buffoon who simply regurgitates doctrine without forethought. He not only opposed the spread of contraception in Africa (where in some places 50% of a given region's population has AIDS) but actually said (and I shit you not) that condoms may actually make the AIDS problem worse.
Digest that for a minute. The Pope, the spiritual leader of hundreds of millions of people across the world, shits on EVERY. SINGLE. TRUTH. that people know about contraception and the spread of AIDS by suggesting that using a condom to protect oneself or someone else from getting AIDS might actually make the problem WORSE. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
Listen, I understand why Christians frown on contraception. As stupid as the reason is, as idiotic an idea as "life begins at conception" is, I understand that they feel that way. And maybe, maybe, you could make the argument that contraception makes people more susceptible to the temptation of sex (you know, if that made any sense to use that logic for a continent where women are already being raped left and right). LEAVE IT AT THAT, YOU SENILE FUCKING IDIOT. There was no need to expound on that idea by inferring that the LAST thing the African people need on a continent that is simply being ravaged by AIDS is PROTECTION FROM AIDS. FUCK.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here's what kills me the most about religion: people who follow it pick and choose what they want to believe. You either believe that Jonah was swallowed by a whale or you don't. You either believe that being a martyr is a worthy achievement or you don't. But here's the thing: you can't believe in your book of choice as the written testament and "proof" that your religion is valid and then cherry pick which parts of it you want to believe.
If you want to tell me that the Bible says it's wrong to be gay in Leviticus and therefore being gay is wrong, PERIOD, then fine. Just know that the punishment according to the same passage is death. And while we're doing the Lord's bidding with the killing and the smiting, let's not forget all of the other grave sins that are punishable by death in Leviticus:
Cursing at your mother or father!
Cheating on a spouse!
Having sex with your wife while she's on her period!
Wow, I'm sure that no one who believes in the Bible has ever done any of those things or else they'd be lining up at churches all over the world to be killed. Right? Hey, at least the Bible doesn't say you can beat your wife if you see fit! Nope, that's reserved for the Koran!
You either believe in the tenets of your religion or you don't. If you use birth control, you're not Christian. If you eat pork, you're not Jewish. If you don't wear long underwear, you're not Mormon. That's it; being a selective member of a religion makes you a non-member of that religion. Well, unless you want to use the handy reset button known as confession. Over and over and over again. Another phenomenal cop-out to keep people coming back and donating money.
The idea of unseen forces looking out for you seems nice, it really does. But it's bullshit, all of it, and all religion does is hold people back from learning things about themselves and the world. Religion is making the world dumber: curbing vital stem-cell research, teaching children creationism, spreading hatred toward people of different sexual orientation (or in some cases, race...hi Mormons!), and stifling the desire to explore the world because of the belief that if God wanted us to know it we'd know it already.
Think for yourselves. Explore for yourselves. Understand that the fairytale was put in place to keep you from having to think too hard. And remember kids, only you can prevent ethnic and religious cleansing.
And forest fires.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
In like a lion, indeed.
It's been a hell of a ride these past twelve months. It was a year ago this month that I finally manned-up and asked someone to marry me. At the time, it was the most wonderful thing I could think of. Imagine the most "in love" you've ever been and multiply it by 100. I mean, I asked someone if they wanted to spend the rest of their life with me, have children and raise them with me, be with me through the good and bad, and to sit by my bedside with my children and hold my hand when I eventually shuffle off this mortal coil.
I mean, that's really what it's all about: finding someone who will live with you and all your faults and be happy to do it because to them, you are as much their world as they are yours.
But it's not always like that and the world isn't always fair. If you'd just said no I could have gotten on with my life but you said yes and THEN no, and you tore my heart out. I just want to hurl insults and curse words at you but it would really do nothing but rile me up and I'd just be throwing those words at the equivilant of a brick wall.
So now my life is filled with not-so-childlike wonder; what do I do now, where do I go from here, am I ever going to find someone like you again, etc. Then again, maybe I shouldn't be looking for someone like you...you know, since you were pretty much the lousiest significant other EVER toward the end.
It's so funny; I sit here every night, checking out Facebook, reading my email, clicking on box scores...and staring at the red box on my desk. The red box that has settled quietly as a fixture next to my monitor in a Ziploc bag with the GIA booklet included, collecting dust and waiting for someone to buy you off of Craigslist. It's not that I haven't tried to sell it but it seems to be happy just sitting there, reminding me of the daughters we won't raise, the house we won't buy, the life we won't have together. It's your last scornful hurrah, I guess.
That's what I miss most you know, the promise of raising children together. Someday, I hope to be able to measure the success of my life someday by looking at my kids and bursting with pride. But they won't be the same kids you and I would have raised.
I still get angry and argue with you in my head. I always win. I'm pretty sure the real arguments would have gone the same way.
Am I better off now than I was a year ago? What's a good measuring stick for that? I'm single, my hair's a little thinner, children are a long way away, and I'm not sure that anyone else is ever going to fall in love with this huddled mass typing away in his room. On the other hand, I'm not living a lie, rushing into marriage with someone who doesn't want to be married to me. I've made new friends and reconnected with old ones, and I'm learning more about myself than I ever could have under the dark cloud that is you.
I go on dates, although I seem to find big faults with all of them. Maybe I'm being too picky. I don't believe it's too much to ask for a non-smoker with a decent grasp of good grammar and a healthy dose of humor. Women who are easily offended aren't for me either; anyone who knows me knows at least that. I guess I haven't hit the Desperation Zone yet, which is also why I won't join a dating site. For me, the best way to meet someone is to, well, meet them. In person. The day I join one of those sites is the day I give up on a lot of who I am.
I also want to be sure that the people I date are people I'd easily be friends with if I weren't dating them. My wife will have to be someone I share common interests with, someone I can laugh with and share stories with who gets me; not just because she's trying to make me feel good but because doing those things makes her feel good, too.
Someday I'm going to find someone who will help me raise little Lorelai, Rosalin, and the others who are unnamed but will be just as cherished. It hurts a little knowing that it won't be you; it makes me sad in the places I don't want to admit exist anymore.
I just hope that someday, they don't.
I mean, that's really what it's all about: finding someone who will live with you and all your faults and be happy to do it because to them, you are as much their world as they are yours.
But it's not always like that and the world isn't always fair. If you'd just said no I could have gotten on with my life but you said yes and THEN no, and you tore my heart out. I just want to hurl insults and curse words at you but it would really do nothing but rile me up and I'd just be throwing those words at the equivilant of a brick wall.
So now my life is filled with not-so-childlike wonder; what do I do now, where do I go from here, am I ever going to find someone like you again, etc. Then again, maybe I shouldn't be looking for someone like you...you know, since you were pretty much the lousiest significant other EVER toward the end.
It's so funny; I sit here every night, checking out Facebook, reading my email, clicking on box scores...and staring at the red box on my desk. The red box that has settled quietly as a fixture next to my monitor in a Ziploc bag with the GIA booklet included, collecting dust and waiting for someone to buy you off of Craigslist. It's not that I haven't tried to sell it but it seems to be happy just sitting there, reminding me of the daughters we won't raise, the house we won't buy, the life we won't have together. It's your last scornful hurrah, I guess.
That's what I miss most you know, the promise of raising children together. Someday, I hope to be able to measure the success of my life someday by looking at my kids and bursting with pride. But they won't be the same kids you and I would have raised.
I still get angry and argue with you in my head. I always win. I'm pretty sure the real arguments would have gone the same way.
Am I better off now than I was a year ago? What's a good measuring stick for that? I'm single, my hair's a little thinner, children are a long way away, and I'm not sure that anyone else is ever going to fall in love with this huddled mass typing away in his room. On the other hand, I'm not living a lie, rushing into marriage with someone who doesn't want to be married to me. I've made new friends and reconnected with old ones, and I'm learning more about myself than I ever could have under the dark cloud that is you.
I go on dates, although I seem to find big faults with all of them. Maybe I'm being too picky. I don't believe it's too much to ask for a non-smoker with a decent grasp of good grammar and a healthy dose of humor. Women who are easily offended aren't for me either; anyone who knows me knows at least that. I guess I haven't hit the Desperation Zone yet, which is also why I won't join a dating site. For me, the best way to meet someone is to, well, meet them. In person. The day I join one of those sites is the day I give up on a lot of who I am.
I also want to be sure that the people I date are people I'd easily be friends with if I weren't dating them. My wife will have to be someone I share common interests with, someone I can laugh with and share stories with who gets me; not just because she's trying to make me feel good but because doing those things makes her feel good, too.
Someday I'm going to find someone who will help me raise little Lorelai, Rosalin, and the others who are unnamed but will be just as cherished. It hurts a little knowing that it won't be you; it makes me sad in the places I don't want to admit exist anymore.
I just hope that someday, they don't.
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