What a peaceful day this has been. I still need to clean the apartment, and pack up more Christmas presents, but overall it's been very nice.
I'm still trying to train myself how to use this Time Warner DVR. I know that there's a way to have it record ALL of the HBO shows that I want to see. However, I haven't quite figured that out yet. Still I can watch these two that have been recorded, which is great!
I didn't realize this morning that I had had two phone calls at around 02:00 this morning. One from Nick, and one from Carlos. Short version: big gay drama, Nick was angry with me that I wasn't answering the phone at two in the morning to LISTEN to said big gay drama again, and Carlos was calling to vent.
Observation from a safe distance. Yep. Safe distance.
Still no word from Michael, which is dandy. He leaves for Norfolk in two days, and then, my man diet starts. No more men in my house or in my life until June 6.
And, maybe not then, either.
I heard from Janice today - that was good - I was starting to worry about her.
I spent some time today visualizing how I want this year to end. The mental equivalent is challenging, but I'm going to work on it some more tonight.
More work with Lisa tomorrow, and then more meditation. And cleaning. It just shouldn't take that long to scrub the place down. Again.
Next week, I am focusing on finishing all the work that I've been putting off, of any nature. By next week, I'll have everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING caught up.
I think I will ask Carol to index my CDs, vinyl albums and books. She needs some work, and she'll actually do the work. I also have to talk to her about her being here for Christmas to watch the mutts.
DJHJD
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Holiday spirit
Holiday spirit
Shipped out the Christmas cards today, and realized I need to buy about twenty more. Also sent out a response to the State of Texas that had to be postmarked today – that cost eight bucks. I’ve realized that my CD collection is totally catawampus, and needs to be sorted through – figure out what’s where, and get it all back where it’s supposed to be.
I need to vote in today’s run-off election.
We’re getting down to the wire for the end of the year. Only a few more days to make ANYTHING happen.
The guy in New York is writing to ask if I still want the Phaeton. Uh, yeah. I do. I just haven’t quite identified the money yet to wire to you to allow me to come pick it up.
The mailbox gets more and more full each day. Blarg. Thank God I bought this industrial strength shredder – I can run nearly anything through it. It just fills up so DAMNED fast.
My blood sugar was catawampus again today – probably from eating junk food at these two holiday parties last night. What a weird night that was. Mikey and I thought we could restore normalcy to the evening by going to EJ’s, and THAT was odd. The boi was there, looking handsome, but assiduously ignoring me (ooooh, hurt me, crack baby!) We had one drink and left.
Came home, and Michael wasn’t here. Checked email, and he came in. Got up this morning, and he was gone again. He needs to just BE gone and STAY gone, which I intend to accomplish today, if he checks in or shows up.
Nick’s angry with me. He thinks I’m telling Carlos information about him. I just listen to each of them; it’s something that is best observed from a distance. Of course, Carlos is talking to many men that Nick is also talking to – it’s the triangulation triathelon.
I just figured out that Tom DeLay re-districted ME from Sheila Jackson Lee’s district into John Culberson. That’s sort of like being represented by Tom DeLay himself. Thus, I feel I am utterly unrepresented in Washington, given that Clone 1 and 2 are in the Senate, and Clone 3 is in the House. Great.
Okay, time to do some more laundry and think about whether I have enough holiday spirit to decorate the house. More later.
Shipped out the Christmas cards today, and realized I need to buy about twenty more. Also sent out a response to the State of Texas that had to be postmarked today – that cost eight bucks. I’ve realized that my CD collection is totally catawampus, and needs to be sorted through – figure out what’s where, and get it all back where it’s supposed to be.
I need to vote in today’s run-off election.
We’re getting down to the wire for the end of the year. Only a few more days to make ANYTHING happen.
The guy in New York is writing to ask if I still want the Phaeton. Uh, yeah. I do. I just haven’t quite identified the money yet to wire to you to allow me to come pick it up.
The mailbox gets more and more full each day. Blarg. Thank God I bought this industrial strength shredder – I can run nearly anything through it. It just fills up so DAMNED fast.
My blood sugar was catawampus again today – probably from eating junk food at these two holiday parties last night. What a weird night that was. Mikey and I thought we could restore normalcy to the evening by going to EJ’s, and THAT was odd. The boi was there, looking handsome, but assiduously ignoring me (ooooh, hurt me, crack baby!) We had one drink and left.
Came home, and Michael wasn’t here. Checked email, and he came in. Got up this morning, and he was gone again. He needs to just BE gone and STAY gone, which I intend to accomplish today, if he checks in or shows up.
Nick’s angry with me. He thinks I’m telling Carlos information about him. I just listen to each of them; it’s something that is best observed from a distance. Of course, Carlos is talking to many men that Nick is also talking to – it’s the triangulation triathelon.
I just figured out that Tom DeLay re-districted ME from Sheila Jackson Lee’s district into John Culberson. That’s sort of like being represented by Tom DeLay himself. Thus, I feel I am utterly unrepresented in Washington, given that Clone 1 and 2 are in the Senate, and Clone 3 is in the House. Great.
Okay, time to do some more laundry and think about whether I have enough holiday spirit to decorate the house. More later.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Humpday silliness
Humpday silliness
One of the convenient things about being very well connected and congenial is that EVERYONE talks to me, even Carlos. So, I’m hearing a totally different side of things from him than I did from Nick, who called earlier today with the introductory remark “I know you’re going to tell me ‘I told you so.’”
It’s rather like hearing stories from two unrelated people who happened to live in the same city.
What a gloomy day it has been. Still, I have the desk cleared off, and am working on my Christmas card list. I have twenty-eight to send, unless I buy more from New Vision and send those. That may be a good idea.
Tonight is the monthly New Vision meeting, and then a little work with Lisa. I have a TON of work to accomplish tomorrow, not the least of which is getting my homework done for tomorrow night’s class.
Mikey and I were in TXT magazine last weekend!! I have to go see if I can pick one up on my way to Clear Lake tonight!
http://www.truthout.org/docs_2005/120705O.shtml
Goodbye, New Orleans: It's Time We Stopped Pretending By Mike Tidwell Orion Online
December 2005 Issue
As we reach the 90-day mark since Katrina hit, it's time we ended our national state of denial. Turns out House Speaker Dennis Hastert had it right all along, though his reasons were flawed. We should call it quits in New Orleans not because the city can't be made relatively safe from hurricanes. It can be. And not because to do so is more trouble than it's worth. It's not. But because the Bush Administration has already given New Orleans a quiet kiss of death now that the story has run its news cycle.
As someone who dearly loves New Orleans and has experienced many of her charms, it pains me immeasurably to call for this retreat. This is not a rhetorical stunt or a shock argument meant to invite compromise talks. I mean what I say: Shut the city down and board it up before thousands more lives are lost.
In the weeks after Katrina, the American media somehow portrayed the catastrophe as a matter of failed levees and flawed evacuation plans. The "What went wrong?" coverage involved autopsies of every breached dike and a witch hunt for those responsible for the Superdome and Convention Center fiascos. But these were just horrifying symptoms of a much larger disease.
Katrina destroyed the Big Easy-and future Katrinas will do the same-not because of engineering failures but because one million acres of coastal islands and marshland have vanished in Louisiana in the last century due to human interference. These land forms served as natural "speed bumps," reducing the lethal surge tide of past hurricanes and making New Orleans habitable in the first place.
But while encouraging city residents to return home and declaring for the media audience that "we will do whatever it takes" to save the city, the President earlier this month formally refused the one thing New Orleans simply cannot live without: A restored network of barrier islands and coastal wetlands.
Tens of billions of dollars have been authorized to treat the symptoms-broken levees, insufficient emergency resources, destroyed roads and bridges-but next to nothing for the disease itself, that of disappeared land, which ushered the ocean into the city to begin with. No amount of levee building or stockpiling of bottled water will ever save New Orleans until the state's barrier shoreline is restored.
Just since World War II an area of land the size of Rhode Island has turned to water between New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico, most of it former marshland. And every 2.7 miles of marshland reduces a hurricane surge tide by a foot, dispersing the storm's power. Simply put, had Katrina struck in 1945 instead of 2005, the surge that reached New Orleans would have been as much as 5-10 feet less than it was.
These marshes, as well as the barrier islands, were created by the sediment-rich flood waters of the Mississippi River deposited over thousands of years. But modern levees have prevented this natural flooding, and the existing wetlands, starved for new sediments and nutrients, have eroded and "subsided" and just washed away. Every ten months, even without hurricanes, an area of Louisiana land equal to Manhattan turns to water. That's 50 acres a day. A football field every 30 minutes!
A $14 billion plan to fix this problem-a plan widely viewed as technically sound and supported by environmentalists, oil companies, and fishermen alike-has been on the table for years and was pushed forward with greater urgency after Katrina hit. But for reasons hard to fathom, yet utterly lethal in their effect, the administration has turned its back on this plan. Instead of investing the equivalent of six weeks of spending in Iraq, or the cost of the Big Dig in Boston, we must now prepare to pay for another inevitable $200 billion hurricane just around the corner in Louisiana.
The grand plan to change all this, commonly known as the Coast 2050 plan, would use massive pipelines and pumps and surgically designed canals to guide a portion of the river's sediment-thick water back toward the coastal buffer zone without destroying existing infrastructure or communities. This would rebuild hundreds of thousands of acres of wetlands over time and reconstruct entire barrier islands in as little as 12 months. (It is estimated that the government's plan to rebuild the levees could take decades.) Everyone agrees the plan will work. The National Academy of Sciences confirmed the soundness of the approach just last week and urged quick action.
Yet in its second and final post-Katrina emergency spending package sent to Congress on November 8th, the White House dismissed the rescue plan with a shockingly small $250 million proposed authorization instead of the $14 billion requested.
How could this administration, found totally unprepared for the first Katrina, not see the obvious action needed to prevent the next one? My theory is that Bush hears "wetlands" and retreats to a blind, ideological aversion to all things "environmental." Which perhaps explains why in multiple speeches given during six photo-op trips to the Gulf since Katrina hit, the President has not one time mentioned the words barrier islands or wetlands. Not once.
"Either they don't get it or they just don't care," said Mark Davis, director of the Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana. "But the results are the same: more disaster."
So stop the repairs; put the brooms and chain saws away. Close the few businesses that have re-opened. Leave the levees in their tattered state and get out. Right now. Everybody. It's utterly unsafe to live there.
To encourage people to return to New Orleans, as Bush is doing, without funding the only plan that can save the city from the next Big One, is to commit an act of mass homicide. If, after all the human suffering and expense of this national ordeal, the federal government can't be bothered to spend the cost of a tunnel from Logan Airport to downtown Boston, then the game is truly over.
Anyone who doesn't like this news-farmers who export grain through the port of New Orleans, New Englanders who heat their homes with natural gas from the Gulf, cultural enthusiasts who like their gumbo in the French Quarter-should all direct their comments straight to the White House. But don't wait around for a response.
One of the convenient things about being very well connected and congenial is that EVERYONE talks to me, even Carlos. So, I’m hearing a totally different side of things from him than I did from Nick, who called earlier today with the introductory remark “I know you’re going to tell me ‘I told you so.’”
It’s rather like hearing stories from two unrelated people who happened to live in the same city.
What a gloomy day it has been. Still, I have the desk cleared off, and am working on my Christmas card list. I have twenty-eight to send, unless I buy more from New Vision and send those. That may be a good idea.
Tonight is the monthly New Vision meeting, and then a little work with Lisa. I have a TON of work to accomplish tomorrow, not the least of which is getting my homework done for tomorrow night’s class.
Mikey and I were in TXT magazine last weekend!! I have to go see if I can pick one up on my way to Clear Lake tonight!
http://www.truthout.org/docs_2005/120705O.shtml
Goodbye, New Orleans: It's Time We Stopped Pretending By Mike Tidwell Orion Online
December 2005 Issue
As we reach the 90-day mark since Katrina hit, it's time we ended our national state of denial. Turns out House Speaker Dennis Hastert had it right all along, though his reasons were flawed. We should call it quits in New Orleans not because the city can't be made relatively safe from hurricanes. It can be. And not because to do so is more trouble than it's worth. It's not. But because the Bush Administration has already given New Orleans a quiet kiss of death now that the story has run its news cycle.
As someone who dearly loves New Orleans and has experienced many of her charms, it pains me immeasurably to call for this retreat. This is not a rhetorical stunt or a shock argument meant to invite compromise talks. I mean what I say: Shut the city down and board it up before thousands more lives are lost.
In the weeks after Katrina, the American media somehow portrayed the catastrophe as a matter of failed levees and flawed evacuation plans. The "What went wrong?" coverage involved autopsies of every breached dike and a witch hunt for those responsible for the Superdome and Convention Center fiascos. But these were just horrifying symptoms of a much larger disease.
Katrina destroyed the Big Easy-and future Katrinas will do the same-not because of engineering failures but because one million acres of coastal islands and marshland have vanished in Louisiana in the last century due to human interference. These land forms served as natural "speed bumps," reducing the lethal surge tide of past hurricanes and making New Orleans habitable in the first place.
But while encouraging city residents to return home and declaring for the media audience that "we will do whatever it takes" to save the city, the President earlier this month formally refused the one thing New Orleans simply cannot live without: A restored network of barrier islands and coastal wetlands.
Tens of billions of dollars have been authorized to treat the symptoms-broken levees, insufficient emergency resources, destroyed roads and bridges-but next to nothing for the disease itself, that of disappeared land, which ushered the ocean into the city to begin with. No amount of levee building or stockpiling of bottled water will ever save New Orleans until the state's barrier shoreline is restored.
Just since World War II an area of land the size of Rhode Island has turned to water between New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico, most of it former marshland. And every 2.7 miles of marshland reduces a hurricane surge tide by a foot, dispersing the storm's power. Simply put, had Katrina struck in 1945 instead of 2005, the surge that reached New Orleans would have been as much as 5-10 feet less than it was.
These marshes, as well as the barrier islands, were created by the sediment-rich flood waters of the Mississippi River deposited over thousands of years. But modern levees have prevented this natural flooding, and the existing wetlands, starved for new sediments and nutrients, have eroded and "subsided" and just washed away. Every ten months, even without hurricanes, an area of Louisiana land equal to Manhattan turns to water. That's 50 acres a day. A football field every 30 minutes!
A $14 billion plan to fix this problem-a plan widely viewed as technically sound and supported by environmentalists, oil companies, and fishermen alike-has been on the table for years and was pushed forward with greater urgency after Katrina hit. But for reasons hard to fathom, yet utterly lethal in their effect, the administration has turned its back on this plan. Instead of investing the equivalent of six weeks of spending in Iraq, or the cost of the Big Dig in Boston, we must now prepare to pay for another inevitable $200 billion hurricane just around the corner in Louisiana.
The grand plan to change all this, commonly known as the Coast 2050 plan, would use massive pipelines and pumps and surgically designed canals to guide a portion of the river's sediment-thick water back toward the coastal buffer zone without destroying existing infrastructure or communities. This would rebuild hundreds of thousands of acres of wetlands over time and reconstruct entire barrier islands in as little as 12 months. (It is estimated that the government's plan to rebuild the levees could take decades.) Everyone agrees the plan will work. The National Academy of Sciences confirmed the soundness of the approach just last week and urged quick action.
Yet in its second and final post-Katrina emergency spending package sent to Congress on November 8th, the White House dismissed the rescue plan with a shockingly small $250 million proposed authorization instead of the $14 billion requested.
How could this administration, found totally unprepared for the first Katrina, not see the obvious action needed to prevent the next one? My theory is that Bush hears "wetlands" and retreats to a blind, ideological aversion to all things "environmental." Which perhaps explains why in multiple speeches given during six photo-op trips to the Gulf since Katrina hit, the President has not one time mentioned the words barrier islands or wetlands. Not once.
"Either they don't get it or they just don't care," said Mark Davis, director of the Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana. "But the results are the same: more disaster."
So stop the repairs; put the brooms and chain saws away. Close the few businesses that have re-opened. Leave the levees in their tattered state and get out. Right now. Everybody. It's utterly unsafe to live there.
To encourage people to return to New Orleans, as Bush is doing, without funding the only plan that can save the city from the next Big One, is to commit an act of mass homicide. If, after all the human suffering and expense of this national ordeal, the federal government can't be bothered to spend the cost of a tunnel from Logan Airport to downtown Boston, then the game is truly over.
Anyone who doesn't like this news-farmers who export grain through the port of New Orleans, New Englanders who heat their homes with natural gas from the Gulf, cultural enthusiasts who like their gumbo in the French Quarter-should all direct their comments straight to the White House. But don't wait around for a response.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Welcome to Tuesday
Welcome to Tuesday – the day of unbridled anxiety
Well, it’s Anxiety Tuesday, as evidenced by Michael’s bizarre phone call, pestering me about helping him buy an airline ticket home (he has money) about whether or not I wanted to talk to him any more, blah, blah, blah. Barney’s been pretty anxiety free today, but sheesh! Michael is just the neediest man I’ve met in ages.
Had some pretty wild realizations about myself this morning, all of which, of course, center on anxiety and a lack of certainty.
I, for myself, did a lot of thinking and talking about this anxiety and where it stems from, but didn’t do a lot about managing or rooting out said anxiety. I spent several hours this afternoon working on errands that needed doing, including sending out eBay packages, Christmas packages and such. I have a TON of work to accomplish tomorrow, and meetings from 5:00 onward tomorrow night. It needs to be a manic day tomorrow, that’s for sure.
I sent N8 a birthday card, for which he thanked me today. Another “fart in the wind,” as Mikey put it tonight. That is an element of Nick’s gay.com profile, which I didn’t understand until Mikey explained it to me tonight. Interesting.
Nick, speaking of, has been silent since yesterday around noon. Strange.
I went through my PCS bill, and .. urk .. another month with nearly $100 in excess useage charges. That’s all done, though. My bill for December will be less than $200.00.
Tomorrow is the renewal day on my cable bill – and, instead of paying another month for a service I won’t watch or use, I’ll stroll over to the Time Warner store a block away and deliver up my DVR and remote control and pay up my bill. Another $150 invested in nothingness. Ah, well.
I found the PERFECT Phaeton last night around 11:00 – it’s in New York, it’s at a VW dealer, which means it’s certified, pre-owned, it only has 18,000 miles and it’s cheap. The color and all the equipment that I want, except for the rear console, which I can live without. I’ll post some pictures of it here in a second.
Lisa was reminding me to de-couple from the how and focus on the outcome. Yeah, yeah. Practice what I preach? Walk the talk? Pffffffffffffft.
I need to fold up the laundry that I did earlier, and make up the bed, which also got laundered.
Michael, the king of anxiety and false affections, returned this evening unannounced. Drunk. Wanting me to ‘hang out’ with him. Since he got himself dropped off, I guess tomorrow I’ll have to explain to him that he needs to go back to Pasadena and stay there until he leaves for home for Christmas. Which is a week from today. I have too much to get done.
And, since he’s here, I’ll utilize his slave labor to put out the Christmas lights, clean up the house (the non-breakable parts,) clean the dogs (again) and such. Hopefully, that will keep him busy enough that he won’t pester me while I work on loans, tax returns and other such.
Okay, it’s time to fold, staple and spindle. In that order, of course.
Well, it’s Anxiety Tuesday, as evidenced by Michael’s bizarre phone call, pestering me about helping him buy an airline ticket home (he has money) about whether or not I wanted to talk to him any more, blah, blah, blah. Barney’s been pretty anxiety free today, but sheesh! Michael is just the neediest man I’ve met in ages.
Had some pretty wild realizations about myself this morning, all of which, of course, center on anxiety and a lack of certainty.
I, for myself, did a lot of thinking and talking about this anxiety and where it stems from, but didn’t do a lot about managing or rooting out said anxiety. I spent several hours this afternoon working on errands that needed doing, including sending out eBay packages, Christmas packages and such. I have a TON of work to accomplish tomorrow, and meetings from 5:00 onward tomorrow night. It needs to be a manic day tomorrow, that’s for sure.
I sent N8 a birthday card, for which he thanked me today. Another “fart in the wind,” as Mikey put it tonight. That is an element of Nick’s gay.com profile, which I didn’t understand until Mikey explained it to me tonight. Interesting.
Nick, speaking of, has been silent since yesterday around noon. Strange.
I went through my PCS bill, and .. urk .. another month with nearly $100 in excess useage charges. That’s all done, though. My bill for December will be less than $200.00.
Tomorrow is the renewal day on my cable bill – and, instead of paying another month for a service I won’t watch or use, I’ll stroll over to the Time Warner store a block away and deliver up my DVR and remote control and pay up my bill. Another $150 invested in nothingness. Ah, well.
I found the PERFECT Phaeton last night around 11:00 – it’s in New York, it’s at a VW dealer, which means it’s certified, pre-owned, it only has 18,000 miles and it’s cheap. The color and all the equipment that I want, except for the rear console, which I can live without. I’ll post some pictures of it here in a second.
Lisa was reminding me to de-couple from the how and focus on the outcome. Yeah, yeah. Practice what I preach? Walk the talk? Pffffffffffffft.
I need to fold up the laundry that I did earlier, and make up the bed, which also got laundered.
Michael, the king of anxiety and false affections, returned this evening unannounced. Drunk. Wanting me to ‘hang out’ with him. Since he got himself dropped off, I guess tomorrow I’ll have to explain to him that he needs to go back to Pasadena and stay there until he leaves for home for Christmas. Which is a week from today. I have too much to get done.
And, since he’s here, I’ll utilize his slave labor to put out the Christmas lights, clean up the house (the non-breakable parts,) clean the dogs (again) and such. Hopefully, that will keep him busy enough that he won’t pester me while I work on loans, tax returns and other such.
Okay, it’s time to fold, staple and spindle. In that order, of course.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Monday post #2
Spent most of my day with Lance, which was great. He bought a new computer, which he is very excited about. He and Steve took me to dinner and that was fun, too.
We started to talk about some of the things I've been pulling out of the dirty diaper pail and disposing of, but I don't feel like we're enough on the same page to productively discuss a lot of these things.
I want ice cream. I don't want ice cream. But, I want ice cream.
Barney's anxiety today has risen and fallen with my own, which has been driving me crazy. He's been pinging around the kitchen, knocking his e-collar into the walls and appliances over and over and over, then digging and scratching, then more knocking into things, then pathetically lapping at the water dish, then more ping-ponging around, then more scratching, then more...
Now, I'm watching a DVD - Green Plaid Shirt - another gay themed movie. It remains to be seen if it's a good movie or a bad movie.
Should I decorate for Christmas? Should I FULLY decorate for Christmas? What happened to Jarred and his girlfriend and our dinner this week? Every other night is jam packed.
I have really been seeing how BAD my choices in men have been in my life. Like, Michael - I thought he was SO hot - and now, I find that he's unable to carry on a conversation about anything that I have an interest in. If he does insist that I talk to him about anything, and I start talking about anything I *am* interested in, he drifts out of the conversation in a heartbeat. Mostly, he wants to talk about silly, junior high school goofy shit, and drama. And, chase any attention he can find.
He's not the sole example - all of these guys I've ever brought into my space have been self-focused and many of them too dumb to evaluate a decent conversation or to know that one was going on.
Last night, I went to see my OTHER massage guy, Tom. We talked about peak oil, about social logistics in different countries, about politics, about the economy, about all kinds of things that required higher brain function. And, it was just a CASUAL conversation.
Why have I kept picking up the street rescues and then wondering why they're totally disinterested in me? How could they be? I must be like a space alien to them. Amazing that I was ever critical about myself for these relationships. I've only brought in men that I couldn't relate to, that had issues so self-consuming that they needed a safe space to indulge themselves, and that were willing to take whatever came their way in order to keep going.
And, the whole time, I've felt like there was something wrong with me on a fundamental basis. How do I change from being attracted to these blue collar, mechanic train wrecks to someone who's got a brain and a heart?
Will one of them be attracted to me?
I could practically go to bed right now - three vodka cocktails and three margaritas later. I spent so much of today with the monkey chatter in my head running the show that I guess it's only natural that I be worn out. I did spend most of the time not trying to negate or override the monkey chatter, and instead trying to evaluate why I was afraid. All I could come up with was something VERY old, very non-verbal and running around with its hair on fire.
This movie is NOT the most amazing thing I've ever seen.
We started to talk about some of the things I've been pulling out of the dirty diaper pail and disposing of, but I don't feel like we're enough on the same page to productively discuss a lot of these things.
I want ice cream. I don't want ice cream. But, I want ice cream.
Barney's anxiety today has risen and fallen with my own, which has been driving me crazy. He's been pinging around the kitchen, knocking his e-collar into the walls and appliances over and over and over, then digging and scratching, then more knocking into things, then pathetically lapping at the water dish, then more ping-ponging around, then more scratching, then more...
Now, I'm watching a DVD - Green Plaid Shirt - another gay themed movie. It remains to be seen if it's a good movie or a bad movie.
Should I decorate for Christmas? Should I FULLY decorate for Christmas? What happened to Jarred and his girlfriend and our dinner this week? Every other night is jam packed.
I have really been seeing how BAD my choices in men have been in my life. Like, Michael - I thought he was SO hot - and now, I find that he's unable to carry on a conversation about anything that I have an interest in. If he does insist that I talk to him about anything, and I start talking about anything I *am* interested in, he drifts out of the conversation in a heartbeat. Mostly, he wants to talk about silly, junior high school goofy shit, and drama. And, chase any attention he can find.
He's not the sole example - all of these guys I've ever brought into my space have been self-focused and many of them too dumb to evaluate a decent conversation or to know that one was going on.
Last night, I went to see my OTHER massage guy, Tom. We talked about peak oil, about social logistics in different countries, about politics, about the economy, about all kinds of things that required higher brain function. And, it was just a CASUAL conversation.
Why have I kept picking up the street rescues and then wondering why they're totally disinterested in me? How could they be? I must be like a space alien to them. Amazing that I was ever critical about myself for these relationships. I've only brought in men that I couldn't relate to, that had issues so self-consuming that they needed a safe space to indulge themselves, and that were willing to take whatever came their way in order to keep going.
And, the whole time, I've felt like there was something wrong with me on a fundamental basis. How do I change from being attracted to these blue collar, mechanic train wrecks to someone who's got a brain and a heart?
Will one of them be attracted to me?
I could practically go to bed right now - three vodka cocktails and three margaritas later. I spent so much of today with the monkey chatter in my head running the show that I guess it's only natural that I be worn out. I did spend most of the time not trying to negate or override the monkey chatter, and instead trying to evaluate why I was afraid. All I could come up with was something VERY old, very non-verbal and running around with its hair on fire.
This movie is NOT the most amazing thing I've ever seen.
Monday, Monday ver. 653.01
A glorious, sunny day. Lunch with Lance in a few minutes -
This afternoon, I have two loans to work on and get submitted somewhere. Should be meeting up with my client John later tonight, I think. Have some Fabulair work to do today.
I'm just wiped out - I look tired. This last month has been draining. I need to recooperate in December and get ready for the new year.
This afternoon, I have two loans to work on and get submitted somewhere. Should be meeting up with my client John later tonight, I think. Have some Fabulair work to do today.
I'm just wiped out - I look tired. This last month has been draining. I need to recooperate in December and get ready for the new year.
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