Life Plan 1.2 (Circa 1986)

Let's see, I was a youngster (aka sophmore) at the Naval Academy. I had survived plebe year, barely. I was young, and naive, but I had a plan.

I would graduate from the Naval Academy and become a NFO (Naval Flight Officer). This was just after Top Gun, so being a Naval Aviator was the rage. I had bad vision (this was pre-Lasik) so I couldn't be a pilot, but an NFO on a P-3 (where the NFO is the commander of the plane) sounded good. I would do my 2 years of flight school, then five years in the Navy (my minimum obligation). If I liked it, I would stay in and go for 20. If I didn't, I would get out and then I would move to Amsterdam or some place in Europe. I was getting my degree in Naval Architecture and they just don't build a lot of ships here in the US. So I would live abroad (flashbacks to my childhood) for a couple of years to get some good experience, and then when I was ready to "slow down" a bit, I would come back to the United States and do ship design and stuff for the Navy. A nice government job where I would work 8 hours and leverage my time already in the Navy towards a nice retirement package.

There you go. I had it all mapped out. Not a bad plan for a 20 year old I guess.

Ah, but let's take a deeper look. What does this life plan focus on? Work, work, and more work. Even at this early age, I'd started to define myself by my job. Do you see any reference to falling in love, getting married, or having children? No, of course not. Deep down, way deep down I knew that wasn't going to happen for me. It would be years before the self-acknowledgement of my sexual orientation, but back then, I just knew that my future didn't involve the usual goals and milestones that my friends would have. So that part of my life was just skipped in the plan.

I've had several life plans in the past 20 years or so. Most, if not all of them, followed this same pattern. And then consistently I've felt unhappy, incomplete, unfulfilled. Having a life plan that doesn't include anything else other than work is not good.

Do I even need a life plan anymore? What about just experiencing life and living one day at a time? I hear/read about people who LIVE their lives. While it just seems like I plan mine. And obviously not very well.

I told you there was some deep sh!t stirred up when I was sick and stuck at home for three days.

Oh the Irony . . . .

As I walked out of the quite tragic Golds in Rosslyn, there was a sign for a new Gold's in Clarendon opening soon. "Right Across from the Cheesecake Factory!"

And for the bonus round, I was listening to NPR waiting for SuperLawyer's interview and they were talking about Saddam Hussein's trial for gassing his own people back in the 1980s. The interesting thing I learned is that at the time the Reagan administration wouldn't even impose sanctions against Iraq! They thought sanctions would be too harsh and they were trying to win over Iraq as a strategic ally against Iran. So let me get this clear: at the time=sanctions too harsh; 20 years later=invade the country. Ah yes, it all makes sense to me now.

Return to the Land of the Living

After three days of "resting" I finally felt good enough to go back to work and I was almost glad to go back. Almost.

In addition to watching really bad television, I also watched really bad movies. I've had a stack of netflix movies on my table and finally got around to watching them. They were all gay, indie type movies and all surprisingly awful. The only semi-redeeming value was the eye candy, but even still I had problems paying attention to the movies.

I did spend some quality time on the phone with United. When I had to cancel part of my vacation, I had to re-book my ticket using my ff miles and it was not pretty. National-Philly- Stockholm-Zurich-Athens with not one, but two (!) seven plus hour layovers. Not fun. After much cajoling and pleading, I've got a direct Dulles-Zurich-Athens flight. Of course I now have a fun 12 hour layover in Zurich. Of course, having never been there, I may ditch the airport and head into town to wander around. Or, I'll try to fly standby to see if I can get into Athens earlier.

The problem with staying home with nothing to do and no one to talk to is that I think too much. All of that stuff about my life, my career, my thoughts, my feelings. Ugh! I keep busy so I don't have to think about all of that stuff (hence the use of bad television as an avoidance mechanism). But I have been thinking alot. Some good, some bad. I suspect that going into therapy would probably be a good thing if it wouldn't impact my security clearance. So until that isn't an issue, I'll just have to muddle along. Just be warned that I may start spewing some strange thoughts and ideas.

SDT=SDT

Sick, Delirious, Tired = Serious Down Time

The trip to Charleston was a mistake. Oh, it was interesting. But around 3PM the cold medicine wore off and I started to feel like crap again. But there was just enough medicine left in my body to make me slur my words and make me sound drunk. How professional is that? It was like the my entire vocabulary had been checked out of my brain. Not good. The headache started to kick in while I was at the airport in Charleston and then it only got worse. I made it back to Dulles and drove home with tears coming down my face because my head hurt so bad. When I got home I promptly took like 4 tylenol PM and crashed.

I woke up on Friday and realized that work just wasn't going to happen. So I've spent the last 48 hours going from my bed, to my sofa, to my bed again. I haven't had this much rack time in forever and I must have been worn out as I've slept ALOT in the past couple of days. Sleep is good. TV is bad.

Dear lord, how can I get sucked into such bad TV at all hours of the day and night? I'm not just talking crappy movies on Showtime or HBO. Oh, it's much worse. I've sunk so low that I'm watching movie of the week repeats (yes repeats!!) on Oxygen and WE! And the top 20 most embarrassing moments on the red carpet on E! Did I mention that I was delirious? That's my only excuse.

Atleast I haven't succombed to the Real World/Road Rules Fresh Meat marathon.

Yet.

Like Razor Blades In My Throat

That's what sore throats feel like to me. Like Wolverine's claws, they just sort of erupt from my throat and then it just hurts to breathe much less swallow. Just not fun. Oh, important tip, if I'm drinking hot liquids, then I'm really sick. Currently I'm enjoying Lemon Echinacea Throat Coat. It's not too terribly bad and it does seem to help. Can't wait for when I go to sleep tonight. I'm going to have to drug myself pretty heavily if I'm going to get to sleep tonight.

Which is just as well as I got up extra early this AM to get my car safety inspected. Shockingly enough at 0600 when I arrived at the DC safety inspection facility, I was like car 60. Seriously! But they moved fairly quickly. I got out of there in less than an hour. So that's not too bad. I will say the happy, customer friendly attitude I was expecting was out in full force, even at 6AM. Thanks peeps. Trust me, I was just as happy to be there as you were.

Charles Town and Charleston. Busy week for me. I was in Charles Town on Monday. Well actually Martinsburg buy hey it's WV, so why deal with details. The drive was easy, quick and actually quite pleasant. I'm looking forward to my trip to Lost River in October. But the one thing I did find annoying was that for all of the construction there were signs that showed how much money for the construction was coming from federal funds, and how much from state funds. And it was always 3-4 times more federal funding that state funding. This whole "we get more money from Uncle Sam than you do" in your face attitude made me mad. Yeah, like they really need another 4 lane highway out here in West bum f&^k Virginia. Oh favorite bumper sticker: "My Dad's on the Honor Roll at Cliff's Bar & Grill." Sad, but probably true.

Oh Charleston. I'm off to Charleston for a one day trip, there and back. A long day and I won't get a chance to sample my favorite buffulo fried shrimp at Coast. Oh well, maybe next time.

Go Greys!

So last night I finally made it to a Nats game. Well, sort of. In honor of the Negro League, the Washington Nationals were transformed into the Washington Greys, and the NY Mets were transformed into the NY Cubans. And just to confuse everyone, they were referred to as the Greys and the Cubans. Not the Nationals and Mets. Though the player profiles on the screen did finally clue me in. By the way, for bonus confusion, the Washington Greys' uniforms were White, and the NY Cubans' uniforms were Grey. Confused yet? Yeah me too.

Lots of good people watching. We had good seats and I was especially entranced by the very woofy looking catcher umprire. Of course, if your job required you to squat for 5 hours a night, you'd have buns of steals also. And it looked like he had a very nice upper body build as well. Definitely yummy.

However, I keep thinking the gays could do baseball so much better.

Those old, outdated uniforms? Ugh. Everytime I see a good looking guy in a baseball jersey, I just wince. Admit it, if "the gays" were running the league, the uniforms would be tight fitting shirts designed by some fashion queen with tight shorts sleeves to show off the biceps, tapered waists for a clean profile and every gay boy would be wearing their favorite teams shirt that they've bought at A&F or Univeral Gear.

The athletes. True, some of them are good looking, but some not. And some of them are not in shape. Can you imagine a team of hot looking gay guys, muscled, tanned, and with perfect haircuts actually working up a sweat under the lights? Yum. Oh, and I think for fan appreciate night they would hand out hair or skin care products instead of giving out the crappy souveniers they give out now. And then for the all-star game maybe they could just play shirtless. Sort of like a homage to circuit boys.

The team names? Nationals? Mets? Browns? Ugh. Boring! Imagine the Versace Vikings! Or the Prada Pirates!

Wait, that's too gay isn't it? I've crossed the line, haven't I? Oh nevermind.

The Longest Night

It was the late summer of 1999. I’ve forgotten the exact day. Sort of like how your memory dulls or fades certain painful memories. I could probably go back and figure it out, but I don’t want to.

It was another Saturday night in Naples and I had settled into my usual routine. A quick (and early) dinner at the La Betolla down the hill, and then a couple of movies. My social life in Naples was pretty non-existent. I had picked up “Saving Private Ryan” and “The Matchmaker” for the evening. I knew Saving Private Ryan was going to be tough to get through, so I wanted a light fluffy romantic comedy to go with it and I love Janeane Garofolo.

Saving Private Ryan was good, and tough. And I was about 2/3 of the way through the movie when my phone rang. It was the RM1 who was in charge of the watch at the communication station I worked for. “LT R” He said tentatively. “Yes”, I responded. “I’ve got the results of the 0-4 (LCDR) selection board and I was told to call the Captain when they came in, but I can’t get a hold of him. Are you acting XO?” My XO was on a diving trip in Egypt and as the next senior officer at the command, I was acting XO for the weekend. “Yes” I replied again.

“Who’s on the list?” I asked. There were three of us up for promotion from my command.

“LT J is on the list.”

“That’s all?” I asked.

“Yes sir” he replied.

“I said, okay what section are you looking at? LT J is an LDO. LT A and myself are Fleet Support Officers, there’s a different section for us. Can you find the section that’s titled 1700-Fleet Support Officer.” There was a moment of silence.

“Oh, LT A is on the list.” He said.

“Okay, look farther down the list, it’s alphabetical, do you see my name?”

“No, sir. I’m sorry sir.”

“Well RM1 X, I’m probably going to hate you for a very long time, but please don’t take it personally.” I tried to joke.

After I put the phone down, I turned back to the movie. I didn’t want to think about what this meant. It was too much to think about. I was probably in a bit of shock, or denial, or whatever you want to call it. So I turned back to the movie. Big mistake.

As the movie progressed, I started to cry. In jags. Between the movie and the realization that my Naval career was over, I pretty much lost it. My emotions were all over the place and I cried.

It’s hard to describe the impact, or the feeling, or the thoughts going through my head. I was watching a very patriotic and inspiring movie that really spoke to the feelings, desires, hopes, and dreams of those who serve in the military. It spoke of a certain comradiery and fellowship that exists in the military. The feeling that you’re a small but important part of team trying to achieve something good, something better than yourself, something important, something for your country. And I realized that anything sort of resembling that was no longer going to be a part of my life. I had spent almost 15 years of my life in the Navy (if you include the Naval Academy) and now I was essentially getting kicked out. I had devoted my entire adult life in the Navy. And now I was being told that I wasn’t good enough. And it hurt. Looking back now I can realize that I had made my professional life, my whole life. So while this was just a repudiation of my professional life, it really felt like a judgement against me as a person.

The movie ended and I stopped crying after awhile. It was late, but I couldn’t sleep. My mind, and my emotions, were on hyper drive. But I didn’t want to think about it any more, about what it meant, about what I needed to do next, and on and on and on. I needed something to take my mind off everything. So I popped in the second movie.

It was cute and funny and I sort of paid attention to it. It became background music or noise or whatever to all of the conversations in my head. I couldn’t really block them out completely so I would dive in and climb out of the various thoughts in my head while I watched the movie. Late in the film, there’s a scene where the guy opposite Janeane is trying to explain why he did something, and he said, “Sometimes the easy way out is the right way out. Sometimes the easy way out is the right way out.”

The phrase rang though my head. I could fight to stay in. I could see if I got selected on my second look, or I could take this opportunity to get out. I liked the Navy. I got to do a lot of great stuff and meet some great people. But I had also come to distrust the system a bit. I was tired of type A abusive leaders who thought you could win an argument by yelling the loudest. And I was also tired of not having a life. Between the time on the ship, my first shore tour where I got my MA as well as did the Navy War College, I had poured all of my energy, all of my focus, all of me into being the picture perfect Naval Officer. And I was not picture perfect, or even close.

Sometimes the easy way out is the right way out.

I knew I was gay by this time. I was on the tail end of the denial process, but it was coming to an abrupt end soon. I had put any social life, any sex life, on hold to pursue my career. And now that career was over. I knew that if I didn’t figure out a way to balance a professional life with a real personal life, that I was going to be missing something important, something crucial, in my life.

So I made the decision to not fight it, to get out of the Navy, to figure out who I was supposed to be. Or atleast start down that path a bit more honestly, and openly.

Sometimes the easy way out is the right way out.

Dreams

I usually don't dream much. I think it's because I sleep so poorly anyways. Not exactly sure. Except that I do know that for the last couple of nights I've eaten late and/or had a couple of drinks late and then fallen asleep and had really vivid dreams. Okay, there's nothing special or remarkable about that, right?

Except I've had the same dream three nights in a row. I'm applying to go back to the Naval Academy. I've already graduated, but I'm applying to go back. I've done it once, so the second time should be a piece of cake, right? But once I get in, I find things have changed. The rules have changed, the system is changed, and I feel like I'm trapped. I keep doing things, things that I know are right, but then they turn out wrong for some reason. And then I get really anxious and start to have second thoughts about the Naval Academy and then I sort of have an anxiety attack, in my dream! And then I wake up.

Looking back at it now, I can sort of see this is a reaction to stuff going on at work. But still it's weird. And probably not healthy.

Out of the frying pan, into the sauna?

Can someone please explain to me why guys are going into the sauna when it's over a 100 frickin degrees outside? Working out at the gym wasn't enough, you want to sweat some more? Then go take a walk outside and you'll be sweating in no time.

Okay, and I've read this in several other blogs, but I have to chime in. I don't care if you have the body of a greek god, please don't hang out in the locker room naked just for kicks. It's rude, it's weird, and it's NOT sexy! I walked into the shower section, and there was this guy washing himself with the curtain to his stall wide open and he was standing half way into the middle area. Hello, you're not THAT big you can't fit into the stupid stall. Please go in there and then CLOSE THE CURTAIN. After I showered, he was standing in front of the sink, no towel, no nothing, just his birthday suit and I'm not even sure what he was doing. Agh! Stop it. And no, he was not attactive at all.


Let's see, it's Thursday night so I'm sure everyone is out having a good time. But I'm tired and it's hot out, so I'm just going to curl up next to the fan and try to go to sleep early.

Stay cool everyone!

Sexy Stupid. Just Plain Stupid. And Just Sexy!

As usual as I got ready for work this morning, I had VH-1 on. I'm getting tired of some of their "You Oughta Know" artists, but still the music mix is pretty good. Then Fergie's new song comes on. Ugh! You've got to be kidding?

All my girls get down on the floor
Back to back drop it down real low
I'm such a lady but I'm dancing like a ho
Because you know what, I don't give a f***
So here we go!
How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London want you to go down
Like London London be going down

So yes it's probably got a good beat and Fergie is hot and all that (if you like that type) but what a stupid, moronic song. Of course, this is the same person who had a song just for her "Lovely Lady Lumps." Please stop the madness. Please.

Speaking of stopping the madness, I don't think it's rocket science to figure out that you shouldn't be using your work PC and office supplies to run your own business. FROM YOUR OFFICE! One of our guys just left and when they were doing back ups of his PC they discovered that he was running a business from his office. Oh, he was using our company phone, address, fax number in the marketing materials he had made. What a moron. I'm mad we didn't fire him.

Well I got a "press release" from a porno company announcing that the owner was setting up a blog. (Definitely NOT SAFE FOR WORK) I'm not sure if this is really a first, but if it is it's kind of surprising considering how quickly the porn industry latched on to the internet to really push their business. Anyways, it's kind of weird reading. But good eye candy.

Gym Tales & More

Every time I go on vacation, especially if they are gay vacations, I remember what side of the "good looking/in shape" bell curve I really fall on. So I come back and I hit the gym hard. I got up Monday AM and went running, then did back and biceps. Yesterday was chest & triceps, plus some cardio, and today was shoulders and legs. I'll probably just do cardio tomorrow to give myself a day off.

Hopefully the immenent threat (promise) of a trip to Greece and my Med cruise will keep me at the gym and away from full strength Coke. So we'll see.

Tonight at the gym, I kept looking (not staring! but just looking) at this one guy. Okay, here's the deal. We're at the gym. We're working out. We're getting hot and sweaty. And he's got perfect hair. I mean not a single strand out of place. I watch him across the weight lifting floor and I keep thinking. That's just not right. And it's not. It really isn't.

The other person I didn't like (and yes I tend to dislike people with those kind of perfections) is the guy doing the standing butt machine. That machine is for people like me with big fat behinds, not guys with little tiny butts that you could bounce a dime off of. And yes I know that' s probably how he got his ass, but I'm just tired and bitter so let me go with it.

Spinning the subject wheel.

Lance Bass is gay? Yeah, that kind of makes sense. And Mrs. Hitler claims Bill Clinton is gay. Puh-lease. You're just a media whore who will say anything to sell your crappy book. Can you please just go away!

Spinning the subject wheel again:

Toture: Part 1. The CIA contractor has her own, public blog now. And still speaking the truth!
"What can I say? Waterboarding is torture, and torture is wrong." Thank you!

Torture: Part 2. It seems the Bush administration still wants to worm it's way around the Geneva Convention. Apparently we're not calling it torture, we're calling it "Coercive Interrogation Techniques". I can see the military acronym already. "We applied CIT to the EC (enemy combatant) and he then he stopped breathing so we had to apply CPR. NFTR (Nothing Further To Report)"

And just FYI. The CID (Criminal Investigative Divsion) reports of abuse actually use that term. NFTR. I've read some of them and it's not pretty at all.

Oh speaking of the name game. In the locker room at the gym I learned that we're now calling the Iraqis we are killing and capturing members of "death squads." Death squads implies that there are a limited number, while "Insurgents" and "militias" implies that there is a broader, larger force we are battling over there. Well, I'm glad we've cleared that up. Now I know the insurgency must really be in its last death throes (sp?) and we've only got a few death squads to worry about. I feel SO much better now. We'll be out Iraq by Christmas. I know it!

Reality Sucks!

Okay, so I'm back from vacation and I've determined that reality sucks. Let's recap:

- Lebanon-Isreal war and our fearless leader is doing nothing.
- Apparently saying that "Waterboarding is Torture and Torture is Wrong" on a blog on a government network, after the Supreme Court said that the US must follow the Geneva Conventions, is grounds for being fired.
- The Republican Party is focused on flag burning ammendments and writing discrimination into the Consitution.
- After six, count them SIX f%$king years, our fearless leader uses his veto for the first time! To stop stem cell research!
- Last week marked the anniversary of the hanging of two young men in Iran for simply being gay.
- Pakistan is re-starting their nuclear program.
- Iraq. Need I say more? And if you want to see something truely disturbing, check this out. Make sure you have your speakers on.

So can I go back to Ptown and pretend this is all happening on another planet, or in a bizarre parallel universe?

Ptown 2006

It was a short, but fun trip. I will say that the weather pretty much sucked the whole time. And I know this as my credit card bill is going to be tres ugly from all of the shopping I did. But I did pick up some cool stuff, including a pair of pants from these guys who were really cool.

Okay, a quick t-shirt round up:

- I was never your boyfriend.
- What are you still doing here? All the stupid people left hours ago.
- My hate is divided equally among everyone. Please make a note of it.

Plus some other fun ones.

Okay, time for some pics. I took this on Tuesday as the ferry approached Ptown.

This is me, and me again (!) at the T-Dance.









































One rainy, overcast day in Ptown.



Oh, and this is where I spent my evenings in Ptown. I didn't see this guy, but can you say yummy in a totally rough trade kind of way?

How About Love?

It's only 645PM, but this is the last fifteen minutes of T-dance and the dance floor is packed. A beautiful mixture of all types of people: young, old, gay, straight, men, women, all dancing to the pounding beat of the music and singing along to the lyrics. It's hot, and with the humidity in the air, more than a little sweaty. But everyone is loving it. And then it happens, a song that lifts up the crowd, changes it from mass of individuals to a single group of energy. And that song is "Seasons of Love". If there's one thing that the gays know it's musicals. And hello, Rent was the defining musical for today's gay generation. Remix it into a dance track and you've got a song that brings all of the boys (and a lot of girls) to the dancefloor singing at the top of their voices:

In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?

Well the sun played hide and seek today, so no good tanning. Instead I wandered the east end checking out some of the galleries. We're awaiting the arrival of Tropical Storm Beryl. So it was mainly overcast. The sun did break out in time for the T-dance, but then it quickly went away. After tea, I went to a comedy show that was pretty good. Then it was dinner and then time to change for the evening rounds.

I got up this AM to go running. I ran down Bradford until it meets Commercial and then back up Commercial. Deep in the east end of town, I'm running along Commercial with it's quaint little cape cod houses and I see this guy sitting outside smoking pot. Umm, if you're smoking pot at 9AM, what do you do for the rest of the day? Just curious.

Oh, t-shirt of the day: It's all fun and games until the vice president shoots you in the face!

Everybody Needs Love

So I sort of snaked a boondoggle on Tuesday in advance of my min-vacation. But in hindsight, it wasn't really that much of a boondoggle. It was a good meeting and I can bring a lot of operational experience that my developer and the borg drone don't have. So it wasn't a complete boondoggle. But it did get me up to Boston a day earlier than planned and I ended up catching the last fast ferry to Ptown that afternoon.

The ferry ride was pretty boring and I spend most of it thinking about all of the work stuff that I needed to do. Kind of having seconds thoughts about taking the time off. I mean, I'll still be on email, but there's just a lot of stuff going on that's hard to do via email. But then the ferry rounded the cape and we pulled into Ptown. The sun was slowing making it's descent over the town and the clouds were glorious in various shades of orange and red. I walked down the peir into the town and I just felt so at peace, so happy, so restful. It was like I was coming home after a long trip. It really was such an odd, and wonderful, feeling. As I pulled my luggage through the crowds on Commercial Street, I saw a woman walk by with a t-shirt that read: "Everybody Needs Love" and I just smiled. I passed the portugese bakery, the typical tourist t-shirt shops, and various restaurants through the crowd full of locals, straight families, gay men and women of every color. All were just strolling along this very pleasant summer evening. It was just amazing.

The next day I had a leisurely get up, checked email, then rented a bike and rode to the trailhead for the beach. It's probably only about 3/4 of a mile along the highway where the trail starts for the beach. Then it's a good 30 minute walk across the sandy tidal flats to the dunes, and then the beach. It was a little bit cloudy, warm, with just enough breeze to keep it from getting too hot. I found a small hollow in a dune to spread my old USNA blue bed spread and camp out. In the sun, but taking advantage of the breeze to keep cool. My afternoon was tough. I'd lie on my back and read my magazine. And then I would roll over to my stomach and read some more. And then I would do it all again. It was a great start to my vacation.

After I had reached my max sun intake for the day, I trudged back across the tidal flats and then rode my bike back into town. I had just enough time to eat, shower, and get ready to go to the T-dance. The world famous Ptown T-dance is held at the Boatslip which has a big deck for everyone to just socialize, mingle, and flirt while sipping the bevarage of your choice. It also has a small little dance floor that draws me like a fly. I've become friends with the DJ and I chatted with her a bit. She had wondered where I was this summer since I usually come earlier. But I was there and after a Cape Cod (natch!) I was on the dance floor getting my groove on. Unlike most dance clubs with the perma-beat, the DJ plays alot of dance remixes with lots of vocals (my fav!) and when she start to spin the new Natasha Bedingfield song, I was just in heaven. She played an amazing set and it was the perfect first t-dance.

After the T-dance I strolled main street and just did some window shopping. I always find the best clothese here. But most of them are not necessarily stuff I can wear anywhere else. But still it's nice to look. After that, I came back to my guest house to check email, and then get changed to go out and hit the bars. Yes, that's one of the problems with Ptown. It required several costume changes. You need to have your breakfast clothes, your go to beach clothes, your T-dance clothes, your wander the street window shopping and checking out the galleries clothes, and then your going out at night clothes. It's hard, but it's the price we pay to be fashionable.

Anyways, I'm on day 2 of my vacation and it's overcast outside. We're expecting to get side swiped by a hurricane, so I called off my beach day. I think I'm just going to wander down the east side of town and check out the art galleries today.

And I'm not checking email any more!

Weekend Wrap Up

What a strange, interesting, fun, and nauseating weekend I had.

Friday night I went to church. Yep, church. Bishop Robinson from NH was in town and was speaking at my church so I decided to go and listen. I'm glad I did. He gave us some background and interesting highlights from the General Convention and his thoughts on all of the various machinations. He was warm, funny, smart, and just what you would want in a bishop I think. He did talk about how in the early days that gays and lesbians who were active, i.e. not celebite, were known in the chuch as "practicing gays." Everytime he said it, I wanted to laugh. "Practicing gays." Practicing for what? But let's just leave that. I did get tired of hearing the phrase, "gay men and lesbian women in loving, committed, and monogomous relationships." That's ten words instead of one: "married." Yikes. We talked about the potential schism in the church, and B033 which basically said that the Episcopal Church won't elect, nominate, etc any GLBT clergy. He talked about lifelong, out, GLBT members of the church voting for the bill while tears streamed down their faces becuase they felt they had to do this in order for our church to stay "in conversation" with the greater Anglican Community. His speech was sad, heartwrenching, funny, interesting, and hopeful. Yes hopeful.

As I walked back home, I kept thinking about the compromises we make everyday. Some of my friends want me to not be so invested/involved/not sure what the right word is with my parents. They say it out of love for me, and I appreciate their intentions. But I guess I'm willing to make some compromises to stay "in conversation" with my parents. I do think it's worth it, but I'm not going to stop living my life, or letting them know about my life and how I want them to be a part of it. I know eventually our conversation will be free flowing and loving. How do I know? Because I have faith.

Okay, enough deep stuff. On Saturday I went to my company picnic at King's Dominion. It was fun, but I kind of over did it. We hit 5 rollercoasters before lunch (including the free fall drop tower thing). When I got off the last rollercoaster, I was done. And we were just going to lunch. I ate, but it didn't really help my stomach and it was just brutally hot. So after lunch I kept trying to find cool places to hang out. I was just not feeling well at all. And there's nothing like being nauseous and hot. It was just not good.

Now, I haven't been to King's Dominion in a while and it was packed. Packed with all sorts of . . . well let's be charitable and say . . interesting people. What is the red neck version of Ebonics? I heard a lot of that, and a lot of ebonics. And apparently the urban gangsta look has made it's way to the Richmond area. Yikes, so unattractive. Though I will say that I did see a couple of thug boys who were kind of hot in a rough trade kind of way.

I didn't get home till almost 730PM and I immediately went to bed. I missed the closing night of Nation, but I was just still feeling really poorly. So I laid in bed with the fan on me and cranked the AC and just sort of vegged for a bit. When I woke up this AM, I almost felt human.

Anyways, today it was church, chores, laid out at the pool for a bit, and Greek Boy and I went to go see Dead Man's Chest. It was good, I liked it. Perfect summer escapist fare.

I'm off to Boston tomorrow for work and then a long weekend in Ptown. YEAH!

Three B's: Back, Beacon of Darkness, and the Borg

Back. Mine to be exact. It must be this getting old thing that I hear everyone complaining about. And I don't mind it as long as it happens to other people, but when it happens to moi? Then not so good. And I wish I knew what happened, but starting on Monday night, my back started to hurt me. My lower back. Near my kidneys. Which sort of freaked me out. Oh, and nothing like being in medium grade pain all of the time to turn me into Mr. Sunshine. Of course, I can't take any time off since I have major vacation plans later this summer, so I went into work anyways. Just not good. But it seems to have worked itself out, and I feel good again. I think it was a sprain or a pulled muscle. It kind of reminded me of this.

Beacon of Darkness. While I am a debbie downer sometime, I'm just an amateur compared to the Beacon of Darkness. One of my guys comes into my office every day and then just proceeds to just DUMP EVERY SINGLE PROBLEM IN THE WORLD ON MY DESK. With positive thoughts like: "Our software sucks." Or "You do that and you will just fail." Or my favorite: "It's just doomed." It's a great way to start your day, let me tell you. So, here's my deal. I really appreciate that we've discovered problems, challenges, etc. How about going that next step and actually help me come up with a solution to the problem? Or, does it just feel better to walk away after you've dumped on me?

The Borg. I met with the PM from this other company which is large, ever-present, and they all look alike so I call them the Borg. Dressed in their suits (usually blue with white shirts), their short cut hair with standard issue hair gell, they file out of the hive and swarm all over the DoD. I was meeting with him because he's basically pimping over one of my guys over. So we met to discuss and he would listen to my comments, think for a second, and say something like: "I hear what you're saying, but if you look at the bigger picture . . ." Hello. WHAT F&*KING BIGGER PICTURE ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?? You are screwing over one of my guys. What part of "Hell to the No" don't you understand. The funny thing is that we always joke that the Borg drones like to hear themselves talk and they basically just keep saying the same thing over and over again but just mixing the words around. It's like they get paid per word. So I just played the same game. Our meeting was 90 minutes long and he was trying to defend his really indefensible position, and I was just battering at him. I'm not sure I won the war, but I definitely won this battle. We'll see what he comes up with next.

It's all about Natasha!

I am SO loving her right now.


First it was "Unwritten".


Then "Single".




And now it's all about "The One That Got Away"

Would you spare a minute?
Give me a single chance
To look in your eyes
Let me hold your hand
I want to get close enough
To read you
Understand you
Open up your heart
Open up your mind
Nobody needs another stalker in your life
I'm only here to help you learn to love me
To know me

I need a hook so you won't be the one that got away
I need a look that stuns you, makes you wanna stay
Don't wanna speak in case it comes out wrong
Don't wanna blink cause in a second you could be gone
I need a twist to help me to turn this story round
I need a bridge to cross this dangerous ground
Meet me in the middle like I want you to
I gotta find your heart to shoot my arrow through

Almost Human

It's almost 6PM on a Sunday and I'm almost feeling human. I think the aspirin has finally kicked in. And no, my general feeling of ickiness has nothing to do with alcohol, but more with just being old.

Washington DC is slowly counting down the days till Nation is gone and replaced by a huge multi-level parking lot for the new baseball stadium. So this was the second to last Saturday night there and I went with a friend. It was okay. I really thought it would be more packed, but it was actually quite lame. I suspect most people were either still coming back from the beach or waiting for next Saturday night for the big blow out. I will say that I guess I know where the little go-go boys from Secrets went to. They were dancing on the little stages and boxes in their underwear. I looked at their little, tiny, effiminate, almost pre-pubescent bodies and thought: EAT SOMETHING!!! ANYTHING!!!! Dear God, there's a difference between having six pack abs and seeing ribs. It's not sexy. At all. Which also reminds me why I never really liked Secrets. It's because I like men. Not these barely legal waifs. So sad. My friend and I bounced back and forth from the main room to the blue room. The main room was full of the ever present techno beat with a few songs with words thrown in just to fool you. The blue room was playing good music when we first arrived, but later was a strange mix of foreign and hip hop music that left me feeling very old and very white. We left around 3AM.

And then of course I was up at 0730. I stayed in bed for a bit longer but really didn't sleep. Then got up and went to church. Which was good. Our Rector was at the General Convention and she gave a great sermon. I really love my church. But unfortunately they pretty much used all of the strength/energy I had today, so I've been curled up watching the first season of Project Runway on Bravo and trying to nap. If I wasn't feeling so icky, I would enjoy the general slothness of the day. Oh well. Now it's time for some work. Ugh.

It's Official: I'm a light weight

And I don't mean pounds, I mean alcohol. It's not quite 10PM on a Friday night and I've had 4 drinks and I'm pretty hammered. Caution: Drunk Blogging Begins.

The thing about Titan on Friday night is that it invariable is more bear, than muscle when it comes to happy hour. And I'm okay with that. "I'll start my diet tomorrow!" But in the mean time, I'm surrounded by hot, hair, and big men. Which is sometimes good, and sometimes bad. I did see a couple of folks I know. Or have read about. But the problem (or maybe the good thing) is that I know when I need to stop. I know when that fun little buzz is just couple of drinks away from praying to the procelein god all night. So I walked away. From the fun, from the men, to . . . . .

Whole Foods. Yes, in my judgement impaired state I hit Whole Foods at 945PM. Just in time to get something not quite good for me. Oh, I got the it food of the moment. I'll use it to replace the very carb heavy breakfasts from my Diet2Go plan. And thankfully they only had blueberry, so I got a couple. And at $2.59 per container, I think there are some high power drinks, or even drugs, that are cheaper than that. This stuff better be good or I'll be pissed. But in an obvious attempt to sabotage any diet effort, I also got the Black Forrest Parfait. It's DELICIOUS! And so much better than the sex I wasn't going to get anyways. ; )

Apparently I can't even troll for sex anymore. Apparently there are all these rules now. What a bummer. So I think I'm just going to curl up with my parfait and Battlestar Galactica (how butch is that!) and just drift off to sleep.

To paraphrase Hemingway, "Ask not for whom the gym calls, it calls to thee!"

Night all. Sweet dreams!