weather for scarves without umbrellas

What glorious day of eating it has been. Glorious. Just what I needed after last night. Holy Hannah. Turns out, I can give HWMNBN a run for his money, and in all ways save one, I won! I had a ton of fun. I thought I might go out dancing again tonight, but I got it out of my system. For now.
I also purchased most of my friend’s Christmas presents today. At least the ones for the Christmas dinner. Oh, how they make me laugh. I also spent hours, hours, going through children’s books at my favorite toy store in the world. Kid books are amazing. (And expensive.) Gavin is going to have quite the collection. Turns out I am a sucker for the ones with gorgeous pictures, no surprise there, but also for ones that are rather just cute and stupid, even if the story is rather weak. I’d expect more of myself, but I’m fickle and shallow. Why hide it?
While I know I’m eating like a glutton, I don’t feel too horrible about it. I somehow manage to forget how much I walk here and how much my feet hurt. This time, my hotel is farther away due to cost, so the walking has increased exponentially.
I actually came to the coffee shop in mind to blog about some rather deep and heavy things and then continue editing the novels. However, I don’t want to. I want to keep it light. Keep it easy and breezy. (Beautiful. Covergirl.) Instead, I’m going to enjoy my hot chocolate, go through my new Seattle pictures and enjoy breathing.

boo

After a long day of walking in the rain, I am back at my hotel getting ready to get ready. It’s been a wonderful day. I don’t mind the rain here, although my jeans and shoes were soaked through, so I was freezing. However, I was here. I was in Seattle. I was far away from everything. Despite what my dreams said last night, I am focused on this moment, and only this moment.
In about an hour, I will be dressed up in my outfit (just a face mask [over the eyes]—kinda sexy actually—and jeans, boots, and tight black tshirt. I am going to dance, dance, dance, and dance. Even HWMNBN wouldn’t be able to keep up with me tonight. Okay, we all know that’s not true, but it’s gonna be as close as I can get!
Then tomorrow (sadly, I’m most excited about tomorrow) is all about the eating! And Christmas shopping. And EATING!
Speaking of Christmas shopping, I spent a couple hours in book stores today, by the end I was sitting on the floor pouring over silly books, laughing my ass off. I’m sure I looked a spectacle. I hope my friends find them as funny as I did when they open them. I get so angry when I hear people talk about their vacations and all the do is drink and go to bars. I guess I don’t have much room to talk. I spend way too much time in bookstores and coffee shops on vacation. Although, I just realized, no coffee shop today. Huh. Will try to fix that tomorrow. Either way! I’m off to Halloween it up!

glutton

One more day and I get to get the Hell outta Dodge (or Denver, whatever). I am soooo excited I can barely handle it. I need to get out of here even more than I did earlier. True, while I have lost weight, it wasn’t nearly enough to have a slutty Halloween costume. However, enough that I’ll be able to pull off ‘fairly sexy.’ At least, that’s what I plan on convincing myself. Of course, since I will not go out dancing until Saturday and/or Sunday, and I plan on eating my way through Seattle, so ‘fairly sexy’ may change to ‘rather rotund’…

Due to events that have/are transpired/ing, I’ve gotten a thought/desire caught in my craw/heart. One that was there instantly, but one I knew wasn’t really a possibility, so I was able to stuff it and use it to play the role I was given more fully. Now, while still no more of a possibility, that role isn’t only something I want, it is something that would be best all the way around, at least the way I see it. However, what I want and what should be have no impact on what is and what will be.
I’m rather angry at myself for my continued inability to turn off my desires, especially for things I know can’t be. There are three things that are equal. HWMNBN—although until the end, I believed that was reality. Getting published—although I still believe that’s a possibility. This one—although I know there is no possibility. Each desire/passion is rather consuming. Each, I would give any/all other aspect of my life for (except lives of those I love, of course). Each, resulting in ache in their current and foreseeable futures.

temporary gift

the music pounds silently in my head
humming of what we had

your presence passes over me
haunting the rooms we touched

promises written spoken believed
broken still cut ever deep

small bundle of fear turned to hope
love blossomed into sacrifice

choices of those outside your tiny hands
scream curse selfishly unaware

future uncertain and unclear
arms reaching to hold you forced away

love and love heart given fully
outside your body everything shatters down

once more, again and again

I know you don’t believe me, hell, I hardly believe myself, but I want to write happy things. I really do. There was a double rainbow on the way to work yesterday. True, I didn’t see it, but everyone and their dog told me about it. I got a few texts about it actually. Did I blog about that? Nope.
Here, I will now: Double Rainbow. Ohhhh, Awwww, Preeeeetty. Warm. Fuzzy. Joy. There ya go.
It’s one of those times where I need to blog and vomit all that is going on, but can’t as it isn’t just about me. However, like I wrote a couple days ago, I am so tired of the choices others make without my consent or input and irrevocably changing my life, changing my family. The man I thought I’d marry changed his mind one day, and altered the rest of how I saw my life. Friends make choices that change the shape of my world. Children are given to people who can’t even take care of themselves, let alone another human—and there is no choice but to sit back and watch, hands tied, waiting to see what fucked up decision happens next and wait to see how that will effect the relationship with the one I love most.
I know this is presented in just a bitchy and vague manner—not at all gracious or hopeful. I will say this: While I wish God would take control of people making choices for others who can’t for themselves, none of me blames God right now, and I know that if there is any chance of good happening, it will be from Him. And, at this point, would be miraculous. In that vein, as always, keep this unusually vague manner in your prayers, please. It is probably an issue that I will never be able to share or document. I will say this, in my own prayers with God, I’ve taken the stance of Moses, offering to sacrifice my own happiness for the sake of one who is innocent. More than my prayers for HWMNBN to return, even more than my prayers for the health test to come out clean, that’s how much this means. So, I once again, covet your prayers.
The days when life seemed simple and good seem so fare away, even though it wasn’t that long ago. I can’t help but wonder if I was just delusional. If so, sanity, please leave me.

we're all idiots!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I spent my Saturday night doing four hours of massage, which paid for my fifty dollar airfare and the extra third night I decided to stay in Seattle. What did you do with your Saturday evening? While not my ideal idea of a Saturday night, I am excited for Seattle. To go dancing. To dress up for Halloween. Go to Brainbridge Island. Go to a new coffee shop and write. Eat ridiculous amounts of food. Start Christmas shopping. To not see anyone I know and have three days with my mind turned off—or at least as much as I can manage.
Yesterday, I was remind how nearly everything we do affect everyone around us. Because of choices of people I love, my daily life is altered irrevocably. I hate feeling powerless and unable to change certain aspects of my own life. Whether is HWNBN, friends, family, health, getting published, the elusive extra six inches (seven actually). We all hurt each other so easily and so well. It takes so much work and commitment to love each other. I am blessed by having many who have made that commitment to me—and several that actually keep it.
I also voted yesterday. I actually did quite a bit of research on issues and politicians, well, a lot for me. I honestly almost threw my mail-in ballot away. As ever I hate everyone. They all suck. I can choose the man I agree with financially but says that being gay is the same as a person struggling with alcoholism (yep, look at all those three and four year old who have never had a drink but yearn to go to a bar—fucking asshole). I can choose the guy who is moderately okay with my gayness but wants to give illegal immigrants scholarships to colleges and such. Or I can choose the woman who fought for my right to marry but is also okay with cutting up babies in the womb and sucking them out through a hose. Therefore, I chose one who fought for my rights. One who wants to fight down Obamacare (My final straw with President FuckFace was when he and his people decided to appeal the courts decision to lift DADT). And one who wants to follow through on our immigration laws. Therefore, I voted for one Republican, one Democrat, and one Independent. None of which like each other.
The highlight of my voting process was the final amendment or measure or somethingerother with the number three hundred in it. For a paragraph, it went on about extraterrestrials. People that have encounters with extraterrestrials. Extraterrestrials vehicles. (These were the actually terms.) I read it three or four times in complete astonishment. I couldn’t believe that there was actually something on here about people who have had their ass probed while hovering in the air. [For fuck sake, stay out of my bedroom!] I got online and did research. It seems it is dealing with car impounding of illegal immigrants--sortta. From what I could discern (which is always suspect with me), the term illegal alien was offensive, so they are now called extraterrestrials. Surely, that’s not right, but it’s what I found. I swear we are idiots. To prove that point the whole damn thing was written in a language that even King James would find ostentatious, and we have to have a whole other book, Book!, to explain what our government is talking about. We are idiots.
Oh, while we are on the subject of people who are paid too much and should be given to Hitler for a Hanukah present (wow, I think I even managed to offend myself), let’s talk about Lauren Conrad and Snooki. They have both written (‘written’) books and are getting published. I can kinda forgive Lauren, she seems able to at least put syllables together, but Snooki… Snooki!!!! If Justin Bieber and Hillary Duff get published before I do, I’m jumping in front of the next FedEx truck I see. Oh, wait…

just put 'in bed' at the end of all hymn titles.....

Tonight, I am going to a Southern Gospel concert. Yep, just me, a few hundred/thousand (?) people, and the Gaithers. Honestly, I have never liked the Gaithers. Their music (although talented) always gets on my nerves—with the exception of Michael English. Of course, I would like the one who cheated on his wife, got his mistress pregnant, lost the child, got divorced, and had to leave the Christian music arena for awhile. At the time, I was still all high and mighty and knew everything, so I quite listening to his music. He obviously wasn’t really a Christian and was just in it for the fame, money, and whores—what choice did I have? I was in awe of his voice and he was hot as hell, so my righteous ostracization was a huge sacrifice for me… Fifteen years later, I’m rather impressed with the Gaithers that they took him back into the fold. Of course, he repented of his sin. I want to marry mine.
Now, if it was the Happy Goodman Family, that would be another story, I’d be all over it. Except they are all dead. Actually its kinda strange that I liked them so much considering my prejudice against obese Christians who cast stones—as they were each at least three hundred pounds on a light day. However, I love their music.
Half of you have no idea who I’m even talking about, and the other half knows all too well.
I’m not dreading it, as it is a venue that I am overly familiar with. It will be my little brother who probably will be more miserable than I am. My dad is thrilled and so excited to go, so that makes it a lot of fun. My folks are also bringing a couple that has become very, very good friends with them. They aren’t religious, and are pretty ‘worldy’ (said the pot), so I’m not sure how taking them into the nest of southern conservatives is gonna play out, but it should be fun.
I hope they have a roasted nut stand! That sounds really great!

warts

We have had a tragedy in Mr. Witt’s classroom. Bellatrix Lestrange has betrayed those who love her. I guess it’s a lesson in how important names are…
In an act of magic, she has disappeared from the terrarium. She is loose somewhere in the school, probably plotting some devious mischief. Wherever I go, I keep my eyes pealed for a little brown fire-belly toad hopping around the school. If she decides to return to those who love and accept her for who she is, she will find her world much changed. Salazar Slytherin, the salamander, Hermione Granger, the water frog, and Narcissa Malfoy, the toad, have been joined by two other fire-bellys: Petunia Dursely, bright green and ridiculously tiny, and Delores Umbridge, large and green and brown spotted. When Bellatrix left, Salazar was on death’s door due to being held by so many dirty little children. I like to think that she sought off on a quest to find some sort of healing potion, but knowing Bellatrix, I doubt it. Salazar has now returned to full health, nearly. We are all much relieved.
I am struggling making it through the work day, I keep finding myself staring into our humid little world and loosing track of time. While I was dreading having to take the damn tank back and forth between home and school on holidays, I now find myself looking forward to having the tank in my kitchen, so that I can spend as much time as I want getting lost in this fascinating little universe.

dinner of thanksgiving

Three months ago today, I went to the doctor. The night before, I was exposed to HIV. Always afraid to a ridiculous degree of contracting AIDS, I am rather used to my doctor kinda shrugging and relaxing my fears. This time, he was concerned as well. There wasn’t a chance that I’d had a possible exposure—I had an exposure. Period. That doesn’t necessarily mean I did or would contract it, but the exposure was certain. He put me on what many of us have come to call the day after pill. Which really is a month long HIV regimen of HIV medication (if I understand correctly). If the medicine isn’t started within seventy-two hours, it will do nothing—and not everyone is convinced it helps (but most are).
The day after the exposure, the night I started the regimen, I drove to Sonic and got tater-tots with cheese and a cherry-vanilla coke. I refrained from a burger, a sacrifice if you will.
I sat there in the car. Sobbing.
Praying.
The prayer mostly going something like this:

I don’t know if I can pray for healing and protection from disease. I don’t really think I have faith in your willingness to protect from sickness. I’ve believed before, and was shattered. However, I ask that you help me have faith this time, once again. I hope you will see fit to protect me from this disease. In three months, when the final test happens and it is negative, I will take the entire night off, will have no one else around. I will return and have the meal at Sonic, burger included, and listen to a book on tape, and revel in being alive and healthy. After, I will open the bottle of thirteen-year-old wine HWMNBN and I received as a gift and have been saving for his return. I will drink it. I will go home and will not keep silent of your gift to me.

Today, the final test came back in. Twelve weeks of worry and fear came to a rest. Tonight I had my burger, cheese tots, and cherry vanilla coke. My vampire romance played over my iPod. I prayed thanks. I revel(ed) in being alive and healthy. Right now, I keep not silent of His gift to me. My glass of the horrible wine (most would like it—I only like sweet), is beside me, and I drink from it freely.

Maybe I should be humbled to the point of shame. The old me would be shamed to admit to the possibility of having HIV and AIDS. However, I have too many friends that I love, know too many good, good men with HIV and AIDS to see it for more than it is. Not shame. Disease. Shame or none, it’s not easy to say or admit. The four of five of you I’ve confided in, asked for your prayer and support, I thank with everything in me. When I couldn’t put my family through any more fear and worry than they already have, you have once more been family to me. Thank you for standing by me and walking this life with me. Thank you for seeing the friend you love in me, even when there is barely a shadow of him left.

I give all praise, thanks, and credit to God. Whether I had contracted it or not, whether the negative result is due to the medicine or not, it is all from God.

I had no plan of what to do if the result would have been different. I refused to make a plan, as it was about the only act of faith I could manage. However, if the result had been different, this would still be true:

though you slay me i will trust you

Through the tears that seem to still never end and the hurt that continues to cut, there are moments of God’s love through the arms and laughter of my nephew, there is evidence of his care of me through loyal family and friends, and there is evidence of his protection in a blood test that came back negative.

As ever, I am at your mercy and grace—whether I understand and agree or not.

Thankful

On a day where I expected to struggle emotionally (been a year and a half today), I am overcome with thankfulness. The fire chief has come and approved the lights in my classroom and said that everything is great (a fire chief who is known for being almost ridiculous with his expectations). That is amazing and makes my job so much better.
However, the real object of my thankfulness, I will share this evening. Even with hurt and pain and heartbreak, even with my doubt, fear, and anger, God shows mercy and faithfulness.

sunday lesson

I went to church this morning. Since it isn’t a holiday, you got it, TB was teaching. As ever, he did the impossible. He made me feel conviction. I’d really hate him if I didn’t love him so much.
Today, he spoke on the gifts of the spirit. Except, not really. He taught about the Shadow that goes along with each of the gifts. You know, the fun ones—fear, hate, greed, lust, etc.
According to what I believe my main spiritual gift is, my primary shadow is Fear/Worry. Totally makes sense. And, if you’ve read this blog before, it probably makes sense to you too. Of course, that’s not my only shadow, but the main one. While not a point he spoke of, upon thinking about it, I think some of my other shadows are in response/reaction to my primary shadow—attempts to deal with the fear. Anger, Gluttony, Lust. Those are typically the way I suppress that fear and worry and hurt. Remember when I said I was just gonna be honest and damn the consequences? Well, gonna start getting a lot more honest. Or at least a lot more blunt. Feel free to turn the blog to another page.
Before HWMNBN, I was a lot more careful about certain things. Love and lust for one. To me it was something so very, very special. Something, in many ways, I’d held onto to a much, much larger degree than those around me. As with my heart, I gave my body fully, my passion, everything, as did he, for awhile. Having that rejected and abandoned has really made it seem foolish and akin to believing in fairy tales and Disney movies. As a result, I haven’t had the same outlook I had previous. Or actions. (I am planning another entry on this subject later—maybe next week, but hopefully this one.)
I felt a lot of conviction around some of these areas today.
Here’s the bottom line, and maybe I will allow the conviction to convict to the point of action, but right now, not so much. I know I should live a certain way (and no I don’t mean straight—and if you really think that’s what I would be convicted about, please go elsewhere), but no longer see how it matters. Life doesn’t play by the rules, doesn’t care what we’ve sacrificed or not. Why should I?

the Progressive Cherry

My brother and I took Gavin to Cherry Creek Mall last night to play on their new kids’ playground. It’s pretty amazing. It’s a Looney Tunes theme. Very fun. The sheer number of children was off-putting. My brother kept trying to sit, like most of the other parents, on the benches surrounding the area—letting the kids simply play. I couldn’t handle it. All the bigger kids running like retarded chickens, either nearly or actually knocking Gavin down. We ended up standing guard over him as he played. He is sooooo cute! I’m so in love. We are used to people thinking we are a couple. He’s much better looking than me, but I’m not complete mud on a stick. Both of us muscly {muscley—how to spell made up words}, him much more than me, both of us in tight shirts. Typically, it takes one of us telling people that we’re bothers before they say, ‘Oh, I guess I can see that now.’ It was obvious by the way people were looking at us that on this evening, we would be playing the gay couple out with their newly adopted son. I could almost hear them asking themselves, ‘Wait a minute… shouldn’t the baby be Asain?’ Finally, this adorable little blond, probably three years old, came up to my brother and Gavin and pointed to me. “Are you both his daddies?” He simply told her, “No, just me.” She smiled and bounded back to her parents, her curls bouncing, pointing over to us, giving her report to them. Someday, she will be a fantastic spy, but right now, she hasn’t quite mastered not giving away her handlers. The mom had the grace to flush as she caught our gaze, knowing her not-so-subtle inquiry had been discovered.
It was interesting. To some degree, most people looked at us like they were seeing characters out of Modern Family live and in-person. Others, while they did a fairly good job, barely managed to conceal their true feelings of us. At least no one grabbed their children and ushered them away from the contagiousness of gaydom. There was a definite air of uncomfortableness, and it wasn’t from me—as I didn’t even think of it until I picked up from those around us. To me, it is obvious that we are brothers—I always forget…
Hopefully, a taste of what is to come one day.

good friday

My favorite thing about a day off work? No kids? Not preparing for math class? No Para yapping my ear off every second for seven hours a day? Not having to do massage after getting of my real job? Nope! Sleeping in. (That and getting to work on the books, and work out, of course.) I remember hating sleeping. While I still hate naps and going to bed, I love not getting up at six. I slept until ten this morning. While I hate missing so much of the morning, I love feeling rested. Beautiful. Increases my sanity. Not to a full level, sadly, but it such as hell helps! Three whole days of sleeping-in, doing some massages, working out, writing, and seeing what trouble I can get into. Beautiful times three.
Oh and a long, long walk with the dogs!
Look at that—a positive post!

hostile

While at parent teacher conferences yesterday, I received a call on my cell. It was from a local number. I assumed it would be for massage. As soon as I could, I checked my voicemail, trying to think of the best possible times that I could offer. When the voicemail clicked on, an angry man’s voice barked at me, “This is Frank, I am sick to death of being lied to!” In that split second my mind exploded and heart dropped into my stomach, instantly making me nauseous. Who was this man? Why does he think I’ve lied to him? I tried to think of a massage client that I booked and possibly forgot to write down. Four or five impossible possibilities flashed through my mind. It felt like that second when you hear the sirens and see the flashing lights in your rearview. Your skin hurts. You can’t breathe. Your church-given guilt goes into hyper-drive and you don’t know why, but you know you did something horrible. The second that takes an hour an a half passes and the police car zooms past, off to torment someone else. Even though, you realize you’re in the clear, fifteen miles later, you’re still trying to breathe normal, erase the sick feeling from your gut and return to your normal homeostasis.
“This is Frank, and I am sick to death of being lied to! The liberal media…” at that point I ripped the phone from my ear and slammed down on the off button. Then tried not to throw up. I don’t understand how my brain can operate so fast and come up with so many horrible scenarios in the space between two sentences—and how the feeling of guilt can stay all evening from an event not even meant for me. I wasn’t planning on voting for the liberal side of things (necessarily) in this election season, but as they haven’t called and screamed at me without so much as a ‘hello,’ I think they just might have my vote after all. Seriously, who thinks that calling and instantly being angry is going to help people vote for you?

tight squeeze

I’ve become obsessed (me? Never!) with our classroom terrarium. Little Salazar Sytherin, the Salamander, holds my fascination for what seems like hours, even though he often just sits there, blinking. Maybe an occasional yawn or burp. He’s not feeling to well the past day or so—I think I’ve let the kids hold him too much, so he is on bed rest at the moment. We had two Fire Belly Toads move into our little world a week ago: Narcissa Malfoy (green) and Bellatrix Lestrange (brown). I’ve never really understood why people like frogs or toads, they’ve always just kind of seemed like little blobs to me. However, Narcissa and Bellatrix could not be more different, they have such funny little personalities. Narcissa is a little bit bigger and like an Amazon warrior, she is constantly hunting, capturing the larger crickets that are meant for Salazar. She will catch one by the toe and use her little hands to maneuver the insect until she has it where she wants it. Bellatrix, while harder to catch, often sits and waits for the food to come to her and is very particular about which cricket she wants. Many will crawl all over her, she simply waits until the one that meets her fancy decides to attend the party. The kids are crazy about our menagerie, but nearly as kookoo as their teacher.
Several kids, throughout the school, bring us grasshoppers on a regular basis. Salazar isn’t that interested in them, so they often sit there and die or jump out into the classroom. Fun. Yesterday this little girl came in, stylish little thing. She announced that she had a grasshopper. She had no bag or thermos or any other container that the other kids use. With raised eyebrow, I inquire as to its location. She points to her back pocket of her skin tight jeans. The embroidered pocket with a zipper at the top. Gaping at her, I laughed, then realized she was serious. I told her to take it out of pocket, seeing squished bug parts and an angry call from mom. She unzips her pocket. She struggles to get her fingers inside (that how tight these jeans are). After a bit, she pulls a leg from her pocket, as I watch cringing, taking on about what a horrible death butt crunching would be. As she pulls, the little leg emerges. Attached to the leg comes a grasshopper body. None the worse for wear. I about fell over. He didn’t jump, just sat in her hand, probably as shocked to be in one piece as I was. He now resides with our toads, salamander, and crickets. Out of the frying pan and into the fryer.
When God designed grasshopper bodies, he did something right. Something ugly, but something right.

comfort foods

One of those days when my emotions have been on my sleeve and haven’t been able to be shoved back in. It was a long day a work. Struggling kids, struggling adults, torn up classroom (literally, desks flying, electric pencil sharpeners smashing), no time to work out until Friday due to work, forward then back then back again. As I left work, I pulled my phone out and began to dial HWMNBN. Didn’t even realize what I was doing, then stopped in shock. For the brief moment, not sure if was because I was tired, because of all the drama with the kids and my impatience with certain staff, or what it was, but somehow my psyche erased the last eighteen months and somehow thought I was going home to him, that I was calling him to talk about how his day was and what he wanted for dinner. I felt somewhat betrayed by my hands, and was so thankful they hadn’t completed their action. How the hell would I have explained that call? Of course, the last eighteen months rushed back in a flood. Yeah, that was fun.
You know, there were a few other things I wanted to say, but the tears are here, I’m tired and worn out. Let’s not go further—just go to couch with the pups, read, and fall asleep to Food Network.

, and ground buffalo

I just had a pretty perfect Sunday, or at least as near as I know how to get—which is saying quite a bit since Sunday was my favorite day with HWMNBN. I tend to go out of my way to not be alone on Sundays, and I considered it today as well. However, I couldn’t remember when I just had a day to be (even with giving a massage today—a friend who is gorgeous and kind and easy to talk to—so not bad as massages go), so I took it. It helped with the luxurious rainy, cool, yet still sun-shiny day. Edited at the coffee shop for awhile, came home and grilled a burger, watched some shows, spent lots of really quality time with the dogs, and will soon read more of the new Kelley Armstrong novel, or at least as much as I can before my head starts nodding off.
Now that I’ve decided to put up the tree after the Seattle return, I want to put it up now. One because of the cozy day, two because I’m afraid something will happen to change my mind.
I spend so much time trying, yet failing, to not focus on the hurt, that I am simply going to make a list of all that I am thankful for at this moment (intentionally leaving out things I am grateful for in the past—only things that are real and current).
The list is as follows, in non-order:
Cheese, dad’s homemade sweet pickles, fresh Roma tomatoes (it was a really good burger), Gavin (pulling open the drawers constantly to an insanity educing degree as well as sleeping cuddled up on my chest), long daily talks with my mom and dad, my friends/chosen family, my house that is finally beginning to feel reminiscent of home once more, a Seattle weekend, finally going dancing (hopefully skinny(ish) and slutty dancing), fire belly toads, sixth graders moving from second grade level to a little above third in reading, dad’s fried chicken tomorrow (not helping with previously mentioned slutty dancing), spell check, candles, having the nerve to sortta ask a boy out today (even if he didn’t respond), new Christmas decorations on my kitchen coutner waiting to be used, cereal.

falling leaves

This is my favorite weather. Cool, but not cold enough to need a jacket, the leaves turning, but flowers still in bloom. The dogs always get longer walks this time of year—this and Spring, we just got back from one.
Gavin was with me for the past twenty-four hours. It’s amazing how much it takes out of me, having to be on ‘on’ all the time. Parents are astounding—good ones, anyway. It’s also amazing how much I love being with him, how he really is the only thing/person I have found that makes the constant hurt go away. The knowledge of it is there, in the back of my mind/heart, but not able to control me as much. However, once he’s gone, it rushes back with a torrent. I made a mistake, but I knew I was making it. We were both so tired; I turned on the cooking network and we lay down on the couch and slept for two hours. We woke up at three when my folks arrived to take their ‘shift’ with him. I knew it was dangerous to take a nap, naps always are for me—I told myself to get things done while he was sleeping, but how do you pass up the chance to sleep with a warm, cuddly ball of perfection nestled on your chest? All too soon, he will be too big to hold, too old to cuddle. Know the moment you live in and devour it. To hell with the consequences. I grabbed every moment I had with HWMNBN because I knew what I had at the time, and it was worth the continuing aftermath. A small thing, but I knew the depression that would follow after the nap, but that moment with him is worth it.
I have to go to one of my best friend’s birthday’s tonight. I’ve been wanting to, been looking forward to it. He’s one of my friends I love most, and I’ve had a crush on him for awhile (one that I keep under control) (not sure what that has to do with anything), and I want to be there for him, help celebrate his birthday. However, I’m having one of those days where I really just want to turn to my hibernating ways. Wrap in the warmth and noisy anonymity of the coffee shop and loose myself in writing, or stay at home and take another long walk with the dogs while listening to my new Carpathian vampire novel (which makes me cry and feel safe at the same time), or maybe go paint more pottery with my ears pulled into my iPod. I want to see him and the group of friends that will be there. All my best guy friends will be there (save two), but it is going to take every once of strength I have to put on nice clothes, go to the restaurant, and face them. I remember when such things weren’t only the norm, but took no more effort than breathing. In fact, I was always a little upset when there wasn’t such an event to go to every weekend—if not more. Who was that boy? I liked him better.

It's beginning to look a lot like

I’ve decided I’m going to go ahead and make reservations for Seattle in the next couple days—when I have spare minute. Which may mean I will make reservations after I get back! I also made another decision, brought on by knowing that I will start Christmas shopping in Seattle. I’ve always put the tree up the day after Halloween. Except for last year. Halloween was painful and I simply couldn’t face living with a tree in the house when I felt so miserable. I think I will put the tree up the day I get back from Seattle. I’ll have presents to wrap, my bff gave me a new mermaid tree decoration that is sitting on my desk at home, and I need to live again. I’m nervous about putting it up. Nervous about what it will bring up within me and that it will highlight what is no more (the older I get, the more Christmas does that)—however, he’s with me all the time anyway, Christmas tree or not, I swear his ghost flooded the house last night, his absence screaming at me, his form and voice invading my dreams. Ass. You left me, leave me the fuck alone, quit haunting me. Wow, sorry didn’t mean to go there. Back on track—Hallmark also has five new Disney decorations I want—a new Little Mermaid (of course), and some from their new movies that aren’t documented on my tree yet.
So, three more weeks of work. Two days in Seattle—two days of comforting oblivion. Then Christmas tree. Man with a plan…

dirty hero

I am halfway to the weight I wanna be at for Halloween. Okay, not really, but I did get a hair cut yesterday. It’s amazing how that takes a good fifteen pounds off—at least until my shirt is removed. Damn it.
I was reading a story about Seth Stambaugh, as twenty-three year old graduate teaching student from Lewis and Clark (apparently, they founded a school on their explorations; Sacagawea was the headmistress.. Yes, she used a whip. Grrr…). He’s gay. Like me. He’s a elementary teacher. Like me. He’s got a stunning jaw line. Like me. Wait, I digress…
The other day (I don’t know how recently, so let’s just say last Thursday, why not? Better than on a Friday, that would just kill his weekend) one of his students asked him if he were married. Mr. Stambaugh responded by saying it wasn’t legal for him to marry. The kid then asked if he liked to hang out with guys. The teacher simply replied, ‘Yeah.’
The conversation ended there. (Story from Towleroad News)
Mr. Stambaugh is now barred from the district.
I couldn’t help but feel a spark of fear as I read this story (used to, I said, they could fire me, I didn’t care; however, in such a time when teachers are getting laid off right and left, getting fired could lead to me loosing my home). I also was pissed off by a few of the comments other gays had made on this story (not the majority by any means, but still)—saying he was inappropriate to discuss such things with his students. Uhm, he didn’t say that he was a PowerBottom or anything. (Yes, my dear breeders, those exist. Don’t think about it too long.) They went on to say that no teacher should talk about such things. Really? My straight teachers should never mention their husbands or children? I’ve told the kids about my dogs, what if I convert them from cat people into dog people? The world should be so lucky. Cats, ugh…
So far, when I’m asked this question, which is often—although, it surprises me how many assume I’m married and have kids—I often just make some stupid comment: my dogs take too much of my time, I eat too many burgers to have time to look for a relationship, I spend my time away from school sitting on my couch, wrapped in my blanket, lonely and crying. For some reason, the kids really love that last one. Cracks them up. Guess the truth is funny.
All my teachers know I’m gay. They all met, and really loved, HWMNBN. There are kids that say such horrible things about gay, yes in elementary school. Maybe seeing a teacher they love would at least make them think about their cruelty. There are several kids in the school I KNOW are gay. I want them to know. I would have killed to know about someone else like me when I was a kid. There are no words to explain how scary and lonely it was. How I hated myself. I often feel guilty that I may have kids that feel like I did, and here I sit, hidden from them. Leaving them in their own darkened corner, wrapped in a blanket, crying and lonely.
Mr. Stambaugh, I hope to be like you when I grow up.

plans

Getting ready to start another week. Just finished a long, long walk with the dogs. Gorgeous Fall weather. Didn’t take the iPod, thought it would be good to just be. Stupid idea since I just finished an hour and a half massage that made my mind go nuts. Too much time to think. And I wonder why I constantly keep myself busy. Ugh. However, while on the walk, I realized that Halloween happens to land on payday, which is over the weekend, so yay! Perfect!!! Looks like Seattle is more than likely gonna be a reality.
Part of me thinks I should go somewhere new. I’ve always, always wanted to see Boston in the Fall, and it’s gonna play a part in the fantasy series, so it would be nice to know what I’m talking about. New York. Sigh, I’m dying to return to New York City. However, you can’t do NYC on a low/no budget. Or at least I can’t. I don’t wanna go to NYC unless I can see at least, AT LEAST, two shows. Portland. One of the few cities in America that has full male strippers. Full. Trashy, yes. Sinful, probably. Cliché and passé, most definitely. So, what. However, for some reason, Seattle holds some aspect of peace for me, of safety and comfort. In a way that San Diego used to. I hope I can love SD again. However, we had serious plans to move there at some point. He was all for it. I can’t really see that city the way I used to. I miss it, but it’s not my city anymore. Seattle, however, feels like it. I can already taste that homemade cheese, those roasted pecans, Wild Ginger’s Noodle Bowl. Yeah. Gonna go to Seattle. Which means, I need to loose some weight. I know I won’t be anywhere near where I was when I was the satyr four or five years ago—wish I’d held onto that gorgeous body, but still, I need to trim down. If you’re gonna go to another city for Halloween, you need to be able to do it dressed somewhat slutty. Or a wholelotta, depending on how much weight I can actually shed. Still, a goal never hurts. What hurts is that Pumpkin Cookie Dough Blizzards are right around the corner!

someone else's words, my emotions

My love affair with Maroon 5 continues.
When this song first started, I thought I'd found my moving on anthem.
Not so much. It's rather annoying when someone else outside my head and write my own feelings better than myself.

I Can't Lie
Maroon 5
Hand All Over

I must have been a fool
To love you so hard for so long
So much stronger than before
But so much harder to move on
And now the bitter chill of the winter
Still blows through me like a plague
Only to wake up with an empty bed
On a perfect summer day

My world just feels so cold
And you find yourself walking down the wrong side of the road

I can't lie you're my mind stuck inside my head
I wanna feel your heart beat for me instead
I just die so much inside now that you're not there
I wanna feel your heart beat like yesterday

I never did my best to express how I really felt
And now that I know exactly what I want
(These two lines aren't accurate for me)
You found somebody else

My world just feels so cold
And you find yourself walking on the wrong side of the road

I can't lie on my mind stuck inside my head
I wanna feel your heart beat for me instead, yeah
I just die so much inside now that you're not there
I wanna feel your heart beat like yesterday

seattle babies

After twelve hours of sleep last night, I almost feel back to normal after OutDoorLab. I went to sleep at 9:30. On a Friday. (I couldn’t help think of HWMNBN and realize his night wasn’t going to even start for another two hours. No wonder he left.) If I can get one more night of similar, I may be back to normal. It’s ridiculous how one week in the mountains with a bunch of crazy children can wipe me out for so long.
Ever brilliant with my money, I am hoping that I can take enough massages to pay all my bills this month (what a concept) and have enough left over for a quick trip to Seattle for Halloween. I still can’t manage to go when there’s a chance to run into HWMNBN, and that night would be certain. I can’t make myself stay home on Halloween, and Gavin’s not old enough to take out trick-or-treating. Therefore, I need to get out of town. Even if it weren’t Halloween, I need to get the hell outta Dodge for a bit. ODL was great, but I need to be where I don’t know anyone or have the chance of running into anyone. Somewhere I feel at peace. Somewhere where I can shut my brain off, eat good food, be crazy on a Halloween night. We’ll see how my plan works out. I get to baby sit half of next weekend, which is wonderful, but also means I have to not earn massage money that weekend.
I got to baby sit a friend’s baby for nearly an hour the other night. We were headed back to his house when he got a dramatic phone call and had to talk forever. He sent me up to his apartment with his ten-month-old son, who is so sweet and cute. I’ve never really seen him misbehave. Having me and not his daddy scared him, as makes sense. He cried and cried and cried. We walked and bounced and walked. Cooed, sung, changed diapers, etc. Nothing worked. Finally, I sat down in the rocking chair, my back was killing me, and said, ‘tough kid, you’ll just have to cry,” and rocked and sang till he fell asleep. The poor kid did nothing wrong, he was just scared and missed his daddy. Still, I was ready to shake the little guy (not really, but I was very frustrated with him). Inside, I told myself, ‘I was wrong. I so don’t want a baby. This sucks.” Then, I took a few mental steps back and realized that I’d had Gavin at times where he just was upset and could not be consoled. Not once did I feel impatient with him or inconvenienced. I was just sad he was upset and it almost hurt me to have him crying. While I care about this other baby, very much. I don’t know how you couldn’t care for any baby, but I was surprised at myself that it made such a difference when it wasn’t Gavin. It highlighted how much I love Gavin and how much difference being family makes.

hidden dimes

Just like love (you keep paying for it long after it’s over), one of my stupid dating sites just won’t die. Sure enough, when I woke this morning, there was an email thanking me for continuing my $60 a month plan to find my soul mate. Lovely how I spent all the time canceling it last month before the trial period was over and it would auto-renew. I hopped out of bed and called the phone number (that was no where to be found BEFORE the trial period ended). I swear it was received by the answering machine of a seventeen year old who lives in his parent’s basement. No wonder that didn’t work… We’ll see how much of a battle I have to conjure in order to get the money back to pay part of a bill elsewhere. Can’t win for losin’. But, man, if you could—I’d have a gold medal.
Speaking of, the delightfully loved and adored Fire Chief, who was supposed to come rape and besmirch my gorgeous classroom two days ago, stood us up. (It seems my romantic life is now oozing into other areas. Even straight men screw me.) He has yet to call to apologize, reschedule, or send flowers. This means that my car will continue to be the hidden attic apparent for all of my illegal paraphernalia—indefinitely. My luck, he will come unbidden, park beside my car, use my window to check for stains on his lips (…) and notice the refuges hidden there. With a quick call to the Fuhrer, I will be teaching in a governmentally approved sterile concentration camp. Heil!