Painkiller, anyone?

I woke up this morning aching from Monday's workout. Thankfully, the pain reliever did the trick nicely, and I was able to move throughout my morning routine with a minimal amount of pain. That is, until I sat down and tried to watch the morning "news".

I don't know where it comes from, this gnawing uncomfortable guilty conscience of mine. As if I am somehow personally responsible for the earthquake in Iran or the ephedra-related deaths of those athletes. Does everybody feel this way when they watch the news? Evidently not. I tried to feel nothing as I watched the news this morning. It would be much more soothing if I could just sit and take in the information without feeling anything, the way the media intends for me to do it.

I imagine that many people are watching the Today show and are actually having quite a good time. "Oh, that Matt Lauer is just so cute. He looks nice with his haircut. I wish Katie Couric were not on vacation today, oh, but she deserves a break. She works so hard. Wow, her replacement, that Chinese or Asian or Japanese woman, Ann, really needs to get her hair done. Katie's hair always looks so nice. Oh, a news story! Well, thank God they have this Mad Cow disease under control. The lady from the Department of Agriculture makes me feel so much better. Oh, they were slaughtering sick cows and feeding them to us but now they are promising to stop doing that? Oh, good. Gosh, those iPod things looks so high-tech and fun. I should get one! I wonder what they do?"

I envy those people in a way. Sometimes I wish that my heart didn't feel like it was going to break when I watched the news and listened to reports about the 30 million animals slaughtered to feed us every year. Sometimes I wish that I didn't want to scream when I see stories of people who were dishonorably discharged from the military after years of service during World War II simply because they were guilty of being homosexual.

Mostly, I thank god that I can feel something. Anything. So many people make such an effort to ensure I remain numb and unfeeling. It hasn't worked yet, and hopefully never will. Not that I don't take my share of painkillers! Judge Judy, Maker's Mark, Playstation 2 and American Spirit. The Fab Four.

So, here is to a new year. I don't plan on giving up anything, but I will try to watch the morning news without relying on a bottle of whiskey to help me cope. That's the best I can do for now. Happy 2004...

Jackknifing Off

I started an insane new workout yesterday that involves all kinds of acrobatic maneuvers on a Swiss Ball. During the workout I kept wanting to giggle, because I really felt as if I were just pretending to exercise. Granted, the positions I was in were ludicrous, but I just didn't feel the burn.

Today is a different story. Ouch.

The jackknife will either make me so strong I will be able to rip phone books in half with my abs, or it will kill me.

Scandal at Scandals

Thank god it's over. I am so ready to put the holidays behind me. It wasn't a bad time, but it's better when you have a boyfriend and dogs to cuddle with. Maybe next year.

I went to spend the holidays with my best friend Metro and his family. They were awesome. Even though I was, like, 2 hours late to dinner. I blame Andrew the bartender. See, I stopped to get a newspaper for Metro so he could have a copy of the review for a show he is marketing, and the only newspaper box I could think of in all of Portland was the one outside Scandals. So I sat down in the lounge, which is much nicer than the "main" bar. That is when my downfall began.

The bartender, Andrew, was writing drink specials on the board. "What is a 'Candy Pants'," I asked him innocently. Since he was trying to recall the ingredients but was not completely sure, he asked me to be his guinea pig and taste the drink. This was after several beers. See, I needed the beers because I was tired from getting the newspaper. A couple of Candy Pants later I realized I was going to be late getting to Metro's house.

If they were irritated, they didn't show it. And they gave me a bottle of Maker's Mark and a flask for my key chain for Christmas.

These people have some crazy notion that I am a heavy drinker. I can't imagine why.

A few quick announcements before I leave for the holidays:

1. To the clueless people who visit my office building:
"Please pay attention to where you parked your fucking car. At the end of a long day, the last thing I want to do is ride an elevator that stops on every single parking garage level because you can't remember where you parked. I feel like smashing your face in when you poke your head out of the elevator just to see if any of the landmarks in the three identical elevator banks jog your so-called memory.

2. To all the gay guys out there who hit on my straight friends but won't talk to me, a good-looking single gay guy:
"I hope you die alone."

3. To all the SUV-driving, Santa-hat-wearing, rhinestone-studded-Christmas-sweatshirt-wearing suburban housewives:
"Are you done with your Christmas shopping now? Is it safe for ME to go to the mall yet?"

Have a joyous holiday and god bless us everyone!

Christmas Eve at the office

Jill Scott says it best:

I don't want to go to work today
I'd rather stay home and play video games
I'd rather chill for real
I don't know how you feel but sometimes I feel like I'm
Workin' for nuthin' tryin' to get sumthin'
Every where I turn there's a bill standing out
Swim the river climb the hill
Complacency you ain't gonnna get me no no no no

'Cause I gotta get up
I gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta get up
Get up

I'd rather be in my space
I'd rather chill in my place
So I can go out and play all day
I'd rather chill at home
I'd rather lay alone
True, but I got to work
I don't wanna go
I wanna play today
But what can I say
Bills to pay
I just can't get comfortable doing (doing) nuthin'(nuthin')

Wow, this is such a realistic game! Why is my office open today?

Counting the hours until the holiday officially starts. I'll be spending tonight and tomorrow with my best friend Metro. Then tomorrow night I will most likely go to the theatre to see my friends in a show.

I'm enjoying the banana bread mom sent from home. I sure will miss being around my family for the next couple days, but I am lucky to have Metro and his parents. Oh, and did I mention the well-stocked liquor cabinet? mmmm....Maker's Mark.

Merry Christmas!

A Weird Thing I Was Thinking About Today

I wonder if Jesus had a bumper sticker that said "W.W.I.D."

Public Apology

I have been acting like a brat lately, and I hate it. I am not enjoying life much lately. I am grouchy and gloomy. I get jealous that my friends have boyfriends or spouses. I drink and smoke too much. I get to work late all the time. I never read the newspaper, and I watch too much television. I haven’t been writing or reading lately. I am broke. I don’t call my friends back. I have been skipping workouts.

It is time for my public apology. Thanks, Bill Clinton, or should I say Bill Clinton’s speechwriters, for helping me out with this one:

Good evening. This afternoon in this cubicle, from this chair, I evaluated a lot of my recent actions.
I have truthfully answered questions posed by my conscience, questions no reality television-loving, karaoke-singing vegetarian citizen would ever want to answer.

Still, I must take responsibility for the private shit I haven’t told anybody and the way I have been treating those closest to me.

As you know, my life changed dramatically on October 8, 2002. And I have claimed to have made a lot of progress in rising from the pit of despair I was in a year ago. While my claims were basically accurate, I did not volunteer information.

Indeed, I do have some private thoughts that are not appropriate. In fact, they are wrong. My inner thoughts are extremely harsh and self-critical. Sometimes I think bad things about my friends and don’t even tell them. This constitutes a critical lapse in judgment and a personal failure on my part for which I am solely and completely responsible.

But I told myself today, and I am writing to you now that I’ve never asked anyone to try to fix my life for me. I know it is my job to take care of myself and that nobody really owes me anything.

I know that my public comments and my silence about this matter gave a false impression. I misled people, including even my closest friends. I deeply regret that.

I can only tell you I was motivated by many factors. First, by a desire to impress everybody. I want to seem much stronger than I really am.

I was also very concerned about protecting my self-esteem. Sometimes I lie to myself so I won’t feel like such a loser.

The fact that so many people around me seem to be happy in life and love was a consideration, too. I don’t want to bring anybody down, you know.

In addition, I had real and serious concerns about my inability to change. I can’t apologize if I don’t also change my behavior, can I?

I have kept my feelings to myself too long, hidden too much and distanced too many people who care about me.

Now, this matter is something I will have to work through for myself. I must put it right, and I am prepared to do whatever it takes to do so. I want to be able to look in the mirror and feel really great about myself. I haven’t felt that way for a few months.

Nothing is more important to me personally. But it is private, and I intend to reclaim my personal life, my hope, my inspiration for myself. It's nobody's business but mine.

Even extroverted actors with an overpowering urge to entertain have private lives. It is time to stop my pursuit of self-destruction and the focusing on my failings and get on with my life.

I have been distracted by this matter for too long, and I take my responsibility for my part in all of this. That is all I can do. Now it is time -- in fact, it is past time to move on.

I have important work to do -- real opportunities to seize and real problems to solve.

And so today, I ask you to turn away from the spectacle of my life, to give me a chance to grow up, and to trust that I won’t always be such a basketcase. Thank you for listening. And good night.''

Anniversary Gifts

Just got an e-mail from my college buddy, JB. He writes about those horrible gifts we all get from our companies to "reward" us for our years of service. Here is JB's e-mail with some minor editing for clarity:

Tonight, as I mentioned, is the Staff Christmas party. I'm going to receive
some sort of prize for making it 5 years here. I know that I've already
mentioned that I start my 7th year on January 2nd, and I do understand that
rules are rules, but do you think they should have created a special
category for me, since I'm days away from the 6-year-mark yet only receiving
my fifth year award?

When my wife got her five year award (AT LAST YEAR'S FACULTY CHRISTMAS
PARTY!!!) they gave her two nice wooden coasters in a nice little wooden
holder. Great gift. Now she can entertain another person in her office, and
both may enjoy beverages. If a third person shows up (what a breach of
etiquette that would be!!) they may not have a beverage unless they provide
their own coaster. This extra coaster should, in the spirit of the occasion,
match the other two in the set. It would be bad manners to have an even
nicer coaster (like that is possible) than your host.

JB is great, and his observations are a beautiful thing. The wooden coasters caused me to reflect on some of the rewards I have received at work:

Large gold star paperweight that says, "Privacy Champion" and has a picture of a dog on it. The dog is named "Privacy Pete".

Plastic clock/thermometer/calendar. I do not know what I did to deserve this "reward", but I am sure it was helpful and significantly increased our profits.

Countless paper certificates, suitable for framing. One is a Privacy Pete certificate. As if the paperweight wasn't enough of a reward.

Crows make me cry

A few months ago juju and I were sitting on the porch having coffee and talking. I was wearing my polka dot flannel pajamas and she had on a silk kimono. That has nothing to do with the story, but it is an interesting image, isn't it? The nice thing about living in Portland is that nobody really cares what you wear. EVER.
Big Bed

I woke up this morning alone. Really, really alone. It is weird that sometimes I still feel like Mike's partner. Maybe that is to be expected after sleeping with the same person for seven years. We spent a total of maybe 20 nights apart during that whole time. That means about 2500 nights together.

Is it Christmas that is making me dwell a bit too much in the past? Why do I focus so much on what I used to have instead of being here now? I always tell people that I miss the relationship more than I miss the actual person. But today I miss the actual person. A lot.

He was kinder and gentler with me than any man had ever been. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen, and I never truly understood why he was in love with me. I felt so lucky so much of the time. Even when I wanted to spend time away from him, I knew that he was the only one I wanted to go back home to and sleep with. His muscular body was beautiful to me. His deep rich voice was soothing.

I met M at a rehearsal for a musical we were both doing in Dallas, Texas. He joined the cast a week or so into rehearsals. When he walked in, I couldn't take my eyes of the tall dark-haired man with the strong jawline and beautiful dark eyes. I went up to him and said, "Welcome to the show," and our relationship began that day. We went out that very night with a large group. He told me he wanted to hold my hand that first night, but he couldn't because he was in a relationship.

When that relationship ended, he and I immediately began ours. Big mistake. But we were so happy and "in love". I will always remember the good things we shared. Our trip to New Mexico was like a honeymoon. Just love and adoration and contentment at being together. We exchanged rings under a pine tree on a snowy hillside in Santa Fe. Our mutual vow was, "I devote myself to you."

A year after our split, I still find myself having a hard time breaking my vow. There is a part of me that still considers myself "his partner". That is why I woke up this morning surprised to find myself alone in my bed. I used to move close to him at night when he slept just so I could listen to him breathe. I liked to move over to his side of the bed in the morning when he got up to shower, because I could feel his body warmth and smell him on the pillow. Waking up alone is a desolate feeling sometimes. Even more unsatisfying is sleeping with strangers. I have no desire to smell the pillow when they get out of my bed. I usually rip the sheets off and wash them as soon as possible.

I don't care what I get this Christmas. I really don't. I only know what I want for Christmas next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. When I find love again, it will most definitely be a powerful experience. I know for certain it will surpass what I have already known, because I can't settle for anything less than what I've had. It's kind of overwhelming to imagine a love that is even stronger, but I do believe in it.

Big Bed

I woke up this morning alone. Really, really alone. It is weird that sometimes I still feel like Mike's partner. Maybe that is to be expected after sleeping with the same person for seven years. We spent a total of maybe 20 nights apart during that whole time. That means about 2500 nights together.

Is it Christmas that is making me dwell a bit too much in the past? Why do I focus so much on what I used to have instead of being here now? I always tell people that I miss the relationship more than I miss the actual person. But today I miss the actual person. A lot.

He was kinder and gentler with me than any man had ever been. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen, and I never truly understood why he was in love with me. I felt so lucky so much of the time. Even when I wanted to spend time away from him, I knew that he was the only one I wanted to go back home to and sleep with. His muscular body was beautiful to me. His deep rich voice was soothing.

I met M at a rehearsal for a musical we were both doing in Dallas, Texas. He joined the cast a week or so into rehearsals. When he walked in, I couldn't take my eyes of the tall dark-haired man with the strong jawline and beautiful dark eyes. I went up to him and said, "Welcome to the show," and our relationship began that day. We went out that very night with a large group. He told me he wanted to hold my hand that first night, but he couldn't because he was in a relationship.

When that relationship ended, he and I immediately began ours. Big mistake. But we were so happy and "in love". I will always remember the good things we shared. Our trip to New Mexico was like a honeymoon. Just love and adoration and contentment at being together. We exchanged rings under a pine tree on a snowy hillside in Santa Fe. Our mutual vow was, "I devote myself to you."

A year after our split, I still find myself having a hard time breaking my vow. There is a part of me that still considers myself "his partner". That is why I woke up this morning surprised to find myself alone in my bed. I used to move close to him at night when he slept just so I could listen to him breathe. I liked to move over to his side of the bed in the morning when he got up to shower, because I could feel his body warmth and smell him on the pillow. Waking up alone is a desolate feeling sometimes. Even more unsatisfying is sleeping with strangers. I have no desire to smell the pillow when they get out of my bed. I usually rip the sheets off and wash them as soon as possible.

I don't care what I get this Christmas. I really don't. I only know what I want for Christmas next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. When I find love again, it will most definitely be a powerful experience. I know for certain it will surpass what I have already known, because I can't settle for anything less than what I've had. It's kind of overwhelming to imagine a love that is even stronger, but I do believe in it.

The Yum Yum Brotherhood is convening this weekend for another Angels in America viewing. This fantastic sexy funny group of men has changed my life. I can't wait to bask in the warmth and wit of my friends. This will be a great weekend.

This summer at PRIDE I met the most amazing guys, and we very quickly realized we were the coolest guys ever and should form our own clique. Really, it was very junior high - and it is fun to be a 37 year old junior high boy. Whatever. I love it. We were christened "The Yum Yum Brotherhood" one night as we enjoyed a dinner party together, and the name stuck.

I've celebrated birthdays and holidays with them. I have shared secrets and gossiped. The Yum Yums came to see my late night sketch comedy show, and a couple of them even helped our group get reviewed in Just Out.

I adore these boys. They are the gay family I always wanted but never found till now.

Gay Marriage

What in the world could I possibly say that hasn't already been said? Check out this cartoon. The comment I hear over and over is that allowing gays to marry will somehow erode the institution of marriage. Okay, could someone explain that? By allowing everyone to marry, marriage will erode? So, if we let everyone vote, the whole process will fall apart. If we let everyone have access to books, nobody will value literature.

Marriage is not a resource that is going to run out. It's not an oil well. It's not a dirt road that develops deep ruts and potholes as more people travel it. Marriage is a relationship, and it baffles me that anyone would deny two consenting adults the right to make such a commitment to one another. Allowing more marriages doesn't erode the institution, it strengthens it.

I suppose if gays and lesbians can be in legally recognized committed relationships all those ridiculous claims that there is a "homosexual lifestyle" will be invalidated. Suddenly, gays and lesbians will resemble heterosexuals a little too much. It will mean that we somehow share the same capacity to love as straight people! What a concept. We'll be regarded as equals, and that would be dangerous!

If there is a crisis in marriage today, it is that most of them are so lightly entered into that at least half of them fall apart. Gays and lesbians are fighting hard for the right to enter into a union, and I just hope that we will value marriage when we are granted that right. Maybe we will show the world how it is supposed to be done.

Final Fantasy X-2 was delivered into my greedy hands last night by my best friend, Metro. He wanted me to have an early Christmas gift. I can't wait to sell my soul to this game and spend hours and hours playing it instead of spending money on vodka tonics at the bar.

Very few things make me do my trademark "happy jump" as much as Metro and his gifts to me. I have never had a friend like him. He is my right arm, my Tonto, my Toto, and my Tito. Everybody should have a friend like Metro.

Dan
I found a calendar for next year. Doesn't it suck when your favorite Survivor gets voted off early in the game? Dan lives on in my heart and dreams. sigh.

I got a ticket yesterday on the way to work for changing lanes on a steel grating on the Morrison Bridge. $257 fine. God. I plan on going to court in the hopes of getting that reduced. I actually started the lane change before I got to the steel grating but didn't finish it in time. Still, that is an outrageous fine. I'm hoping that by writing it down here I will forget about it until January.

I'm seriously broke this Christmas, so the only gift I can give my friends is a promise to spare their lives for another year. This promise was inspired by an album cover I saw yesterday. The album I refer to is titled "All My Friends are Dead".

In essence, anybody who says "All My Friends are Dead" is sort of
alienating anybody alive who might wish to be said friendless man's
new friend. I didn't understand what I just wrote either - don't feel bad.

All I am saying is that if I met the guy who killed all his friends -
and you know he did, so don't give me that "innocent until proven
guilty" crap - I would hate to think that I was starting to consider
him a friend because he would need to kill me as well if he wanted to
continue selling records. You can't lie if you are in the music biz.
Look what happened to Milli Vanilli. All their friends really ARE
dead, by the way.

I think when you meet new people (especially online) it is important
to ask them if they have any albums out and what the title(s) is/are.
What if you meet a really handsome or beautiful person and would like
to have a relationship but then find out they have an album out
called, "All My Lovers Have STDs". That would not be encouraging. I
would probably date a Braillette before I would date a person who had
an album like that.

One more important thought that needs to be shared. If any of my
friends die, I will no longer call them friends. I do not want to
EVER find myself in the position of saying all my friends are dead.
If you die, you become my enemy. I can now say "All My Enemies are
Dead" - isn't that a MUCH more positive way to look at it? Yes, I
think so too.

Songs I Should Never Sing at Karaoke (again)

Heat of the Moment (Asia)
Any Man of Mine (Shania Twain)
I Want You (Savage Garden)
How Soon is Now? (The Smiths)
I'm Free (Jon Secada)

And last night I discovered that "Over the Rainbow" is not a good choice for me. At this point I seem to be pretty limited. Neil Diamond (yuck) and James Taylor. Great. Nobody EVER does Sweet Caroline at karaoke.

Beer Golf was an interesting experience this weekend. Eight of my straightest loudest fratboyest friends competed in the game. Points were deducted for pissing or throwing up and additional points were awarded if you kissed someone who worked at the bar. I am proud to say I was the winner (and the next morning - the loser) of the game.

Am I in a Movie?

Sometimes I do things that you would only see in a very bad romantic comedy or a sit-com. A few minutes ago I was sitting at my desk, and a cute guy from the upstairs office was standing nearby waiting to talk to my coworker, who was on the phone. The cute guy dressed up as a burglar for Halloween this year, and he looked really sexy in his mask and stocking cap. He has aroused passions in me as only a criminal can.

I was about to pour myself some coffee from my sleek little stainless steel thermos as he approached my desk and started talking to me. We were discussing the view out my window and I was looking up at him smiling. Suddenly my leg felt very warm, and I looked down to see that I had been pouring coffee from my thermos directly onto my desk. Nowhere. Near. My. Mug.

He didn't notice. Of course, I am neither quick or clever when a cute guy is around, so I promptly pointed out to him what I had done and commented that I was, indeed, the dumbest person to ever walk the earth. Yeah, way to flirt. Good tactic. Isn't that the first rule of sexual attraction? Always Draw Attention to Socially Retarded Behavior.

Depths of Depravity

I just stole four vegetarian chicken nuggets from the freezer at work because I forgot my lunch. They are really old, so I am sure someone either forgot about them or left the company. But still. What kind of sick person steals four fake chicken nuggets?

Proud Mary

Last night I went to a cocktail party at the Portland City Grill that was just fabulous. The view of the city is so amazing from this bar, and it is especially beautiful at this time of the year with holiday lights shining in the West Hills.

My friend Proud Mary brought me as her guest, and I confess that I compromised my vegetarian commitment to taste some sushi and a crab cake. Had I not given in, I would have been subjected to asparagus stalks and olives for the evening. I had to have something to soak up the 6 free Jack Daniels on the rocks that I consumed.

At one point, Proud Mary and I ducked out of the party so I could go have a smoke at the bar. We were admiring this beautiful man a couple tables away, when suddenly Mary decided it would be fun to make me cry. She said something so touching, so sweet, so thoughtful. She told me that she has been praying for me to meet a great guy.

"What? Do you really pray that," I asked.
"You are a great person. I want you to meet someone," she answered.
"But, do you really PRAY that I will meet someone? Like, you pray to God that I will find a boyfriend?"

Yep. She does.

The fact is, tons of people pray for me all the time and let me know they are praying for me. But they are praying that I will stop being gay or that I will "return to God". This sweet friend of mine touched me in an incredible way. She is praying that I will be happy! She is not asking God to "humble me" or cause me to see the error of my "lifestyle". She is talking to God about me and pleading my case. She is asking God to give me a boyfriend.

I love her so much. And when I realized that she was serious, and that she cares about me that way, well the tears started flowing. I am sure I looked ridiculous, especially if the beautiful man caught a glimpse of that. But I didn't care. I have the most amazing friends in the world.

SHE can speak for me anytime. I hereby pass her the talking stick. What an awesome person.

Why do I do this to myself? Every Monday night is my karaoke night, so I basically wreck myself for the entire week when I stay out until 3am. My head feels like it is encased in foam today. And not in a good way.

My roommate, juju, is feeling better after a long hard flu fight. I am relieved for her. Hoping I can continue dodging the biological warfare she has been conducting at home.

I am starting to feel slightly more confident about this blogging experiment, so I am sure at any moment I will crash into a brick wall or fall into a vat of acid or something. Metaphorically speaking.

It took just a little over an hour to figure out how to customize my page, so maybe I am not as stupid as I thought. That remains to be seen.

This is one of the scariest things I have ever done. I feel like an imposter. I can perform on a stage without a hint of stage fright. I can write an information security policy manual and present it to my company as though I were an expert on the subject. But the thought of blogging scares me more than the first time I tried to ski. Flying down the slope at 200 mph and wishing to god I had taken a lesson. Maybe nobody will read this. I can only hope.