Professional: Slow transition to asshole...

So as the days of my first new professional job creep by, I'm becoming more and more jaded about people wanting to do a good job and (maybe even more importantly) being capable of doing a good job.

This goes for professionals and parents alike. The time that I spend parenting people with kids who are years older and out of control is just immense. I think it's a bit funny that I've been taught all this basic insight into human behavior and parents seem to either overlook it or miss it altogether. Maybe there are indeed too close to the situation to garner an objective view.

In either case, I feel that I work and care really hard. I strive to always look towards the hidden meanings and I work to find the best way to resolve a situation with the least amount of stress and meds.

But I'm not getting the impression that anyone else really carries their weight in that regard.

Maybe that's why I need to make more money; so that I can then be very selective with whom I associate with (both personally, socially, professionally.) Because sighing customer service people, terse servers, slow ass and repetitious assistants are being to chap my ass.

I'm just sayin'...

I may be a bit terse today because I'm waiting for the results of my board exams which still aren't in. I'm nervous because they don't show up on the website either and my colleagues are getting their results much faster than I did.

I'm having some deja vu; that ominous feeling like I had the time when Luke was getting ready to break up with me. Yeah, regardless of if I passed or not, I shouldn't let what happened with Luke affect my life or make me more squeamish. But it does...at least for now.

Ugh, I wanna go to bed.

House Headaches...

So in getting ready to sell your house, you must have it inspected. Lordy loo this has been a process.

I'm not one for surprises. Good surprises, yes. Bad surprises, hells no. So for instance, in knowing that I would selling the house, I got a Terminix guy to come out and walk the premises months ago. He said he didn't see anything he could treat. He even added the tagline "I would make it up if I could but I don't see anything." Thus I went into this inspection process thinking lots of positive thoughts. And lo and behold, I have termites who have infiltrated with lots of tubes. The treatment: 600 bucks.

I also got the HVAC unit checked. One of the servicemen was a hot young guy with black hair, blue eyes, dimples, and was dumb as hell...I loved it! :) I thought they gave me a clean bill of health until I got the inspection report back and lo, the HVAC is "off" 9 degrees, has dirty coils and is unleveled. Of course they charge me another 89 bucks to simply come out then 160 bucks to clean the coils and I'm not even sure what the rest will entail. Let's just say that I'm sure it'll be 500 bucks when all is said and done...

Then I have to get a vinyl guy out to "cut vinyl", a window guy out to replace wood, an electrician to replace an electrical outlet, a roofer to deal with some flashing...let's just say that I don't see this process costing less than 1500 bucks.

I guess I shouldn't complain because it means I get this house off my books...but it still hurts nonetheless. Ah, the awesomeness of home ownership...

Music: Beyonce 4

So my favorite artist is coming out with another CD on June 28. Hooray!!!! I plan to see her in concert at some point in my life. :) It's just a matter of getting the finances together and keeping abreast of where she is so that I can jump on a good seat.

As luck would have it, she's actually going to have a concert a couple of hours away from Edinburgh. Ain't that something?

Fate works for good and for ill...actually, it just does it's thing and we react in our egocentric ways. I'm just glad I'm blessed to get another CD from such an amazing woman. :)

Me: Pathetic?

I'm drunk.

I miss Luke.

There are at least 2 men who are infatuated with me. Maybe more.

And all I can think of is the man who has rejected me.

Pathetic.

Yup.

And I'm at a loss as to what to do.

The correct answer is: "move on. He said he doesn't want to be with you. What other proof do you need."

Yet I can't walk away. What's wrong with me? Even if he did "come back" it wouldn't be an even playing field and would only end in tears for me, right?

The correct answer is, "yup, that's right." There's only re-heartbreak in the cards for me. So I might as well quit. So I quit...what's next?

Me: Patience...more patience...

As I sit and listen to the Gymnopedie No. 1 by Satie, I type out a reminder. That I am alive. I am surviving.

Though tears stream down my face because I miss Luke, I know that things will get better.

Patience is a virtue I've never really had. But I wait. I wait with a glimmer of hope that someday, I will truly smile again; and mean it.

This song is so soothing and empathic and just the alternating chords of the opening measures just allow me to senter myself on what brings me joy and contentment. And for now, those are thoughts of my fiance. Ex-fiance, but a man whom I love nonetheless.

I love being in love...I felt whole and unique and free. And while that feeling is likely a ways from me right now, (as I love the boyfriend within), I know what it means to love and let go of all boundaries of one's heart. Exhilarating and simple.

And now the clarinet concerto by Finzi plays and I cry more; the tones sore and my heart aches and it's wonderful. Exquisite pain for the love I was not able to share with the man I love.

I have an amazing life. To have survived this heartache yet still have the ability to ache (and the consciousness not to self destruct or implode) is a blessing. I am blessed.

Gay: Celibacy...

Today is the first day...let's see how long it lasts. :)

I got tested this past week; it's been something I've put off for almost 9 months after the breakup. There is no particular reason for me waiting; I just didn't feel up to it and when I did, I would get distracted and not schedule a time to go in.

As luck would have it, though, over the last week, I developed a fever due to another damn ear infection. Since I was going in to see the doctor anyway, I went ahead and got my labwork done. Let's just say that even though I didn't have need to worry, I did anyway...after all, what if I missed something? What if someone had lied to me? What if a tiny piece of virus has evaded my immune system?

Well, there's nothing like the thought of recurrent infections, taking lots of pills, and feeling like shit to kill one's libido. So now, I sit here, 8 days without sex with another human being. I plan to allow this to play itself out.

Having sex with people you're not in a relationship with is such a warped trap. It feels good for that moment, but in the end, you feel cheap and worthless. I don't like that feeling. Nor do I like the feeling of being online, being judged by typing 5 words to an anonymous stranger whom I've taken a liking to from scantily clad pictures.

It's enough. That's enough.

I know better. Now it's time for me to do better.

Besides, reacclimating myself to my own body and what I like and dislike is important. I've been someone else's sexual doormat for far too long, it feels.

Let's see how it goes...

Me: Every day...

Slowly, very slowly, things are getting better.

Each day, I reconnect with my emotions.

Each day, I give thanks to Fate, the fickle bitch that caused me much pain, for opening my eyes.

She has helped me realize the flaws in my relationship.

She has helped me remember how to love, how to laugh.

She has given me back a semblance of control over my desires, my fantasies.

And she's helped me learn that I have hardly any control of factors outside of my decisions. Lol, even what my body does is not within my control.

And I am going to take this chance to live it up.

Me: Enjoy this!!!!

God works in really really mysterious ways. Like super mysterious. So each time I fall into a funk about my ex, He again shows me that I should keep walking forward and enjoying my single-dom. I've encountered lots of great people through the MeatMarket that have reminded me that relationships can be really shitty (hence why they're on the site in the first place) and that being single and with lots of opportunities is kinda fucking cool. For instance, I've signed to a great job, just bought a new house (so now I own two!) and have my health. Someday I'll look back and say "wow! Remember when!" But I'm not worried about that because tomorrow may never come. Instead, I enjoy making my own schedule, studing when I like, spending as much time on my evals as I like, deciding when to pop my pimples and take a shit. I still don't like waking up without my ex, but I think sleeping on the floor for a while will get rid of that...well, that and 80 or 90 degree temperatures. :) Enjoy the feeling of gifting and charity as well. I've been able to donate to lots of different philanthropies, both through Credo, Courage Campaign, HRC, and just random people in general through the sale of my stuff. It's great! I hope Boo-bear...err....my ex is having the time of his life as well. But as this quote attests, he might not: "Our envy always lasts longer than the happiness of those we envy." -Francois Duc La Rochefoucauld Being in a relationship takes hard work because no one, and I mean NO ONE, is hitting on all cylinders all the time. And if they are, one of them is probably cheating. :) Ah, I love warmth and me and my life. I am blessed.

Gay: Sex...argh!

I don't think I can do it anymore. Because it just doesn't compare to what I had before. Maybe if I was actually attracted to someone and had built a relationship with that person, I'd feel differently. As it stands, I meet up with one night stands and "friends with benefits" and everytime I'm disappointed because it's just unsatisfying. Worse, I constantly think of my ex when I'm having sex and thinking back to how good our sex life was. It's comically ridiculous that I can't shake my feelings for this guy. Why is he so different? I dunno but in the meantime, I'm letting him keep me from enjoying myself. Goddamit.

Me: Quiet blessings...

So sometime last year (I can't even remember when), I had the opportunity to sow a seed for a friend...a small monetary blessing that paid off for them months later. Mama Popovic is an extraordinary woman that I had the pleasure of running across after my breakup. She's been a major part of my recovery and I can say, without a doubt, that I likely wouldn't be the man I am today without her. She took me to dinner once...at Oasis. I can't remember what we were supposedly celebrating, but she spent alot of money. In true friend form, she (like myself) refuse to let something as trivial as finances stand in the way of good food and good friendship. In return, upon getting to her house and having tea, I slipped 40 bucks into her brother's pair of cowboy boots. He apparently didn't wear them until recently because he found the money and "split it with 50:50." She was telling TriPan this with a smile on her face, laughing at the coincidence of it all. When it dawned on me what exactly happened, I smiled to myself and kept it to myself. I love blessing others. This must continue :)

Me: He took it all...

For years I built a shell around me. It was a fascade of happiness and confidence. Of extroverted exuberance. I wished to experience what life had to offer while tricking myself to think above and beyond. It was built on a shelf that I thought would never move. It was a seasoned shelf of self defense that I've been constructing since I was at least 14 or 15. Ever since Momma said "stop wearing your feelings on your sleeves." It's survived everything that 30 years could throw at it. I was proud, very proud of my accomplishments. But I sit here, a broken man, because I let someone into my heart that unhinged the shelf from it's tenuous moorings. And it slid off my personage and lies on the floor in a hundred million unfixable pieces. And I don't know how to fix it because he took all the glue. And the instructions. And the desire. I want to quit. Quit my job. Quit my friends. Quit my family. Quit my life. I have never felt so raw; so exposed. So desperate and alone. So hopeless. My mind says that it will get better. Just "fake it til you make it" or "plug and chug." But I don't know about that anymore. I don't know about anything. Luke is not a bad guy. He did not cause this, per se. And this needed to happen just as he needed (obviously) to move to "greener" pastures. How will I respond to this, the most serious challenge to my life and livelihood? By becoming bitter? Resenting others for their happiness, growling under my breath, cursing God for fucking me over again? By becoming flippant? Trying to make up ways to distract myself through jokes, dancing, escapades? By becoming angry? How do I live a life that I no longer recognize? That I know longer understand?

Me: You may be wrong. Really really wrong...

I don't know what to do... If I completely give up on him, I go against how I feel. If I keep him in mind, I potentially cheat myself. How do I reconcile these things. I love him. More than anything else in the world. And so I don't pick either side; I'm walking in the middle...and that may be the wrong choice as well. God, I feel so very very confused.

Music: Another great classical tune...

As I sit here typing a dictation that is over a month old, this is playing: Finzi: Clarinet Concerto, Romance for String Orchestra in E Flat, Op. 11: Andante Espressivo, Piu Mosso, Tempo Primo. It's a great song :) Truly exquisite and heart rending. God is amazing that he created such things...wow.

Me: A dream, a memory...

I had a dream about JL not too long ago. As all good dreams do, they fade as soon as you awake. But I recall visiting an apartment/flat like structure with Mama Popovic. And for whatever reason, I think we were in an African nation because the ground outside was dirt with tan rocks everywhere. You'd half expect a tumbleweed to have rolled by. I was walking behind Mama Popovic who was carrying something to give to JL. We came upon the structure and I recall feeling the need to recoil. But for some strange reason, I went after Mama Popovic, through the torn screen door without much hesitation. Inside, sitting in front of a television with a small African child was a tanned or oily faced (or maybe it was sweat) JL, with goatee; the chin portion of the goatee was longer, with streaks of grey. His hair was short and he wore his wire glasses. He had a devilish smile but the two of us didn't make eye contact. He took whatever Mama Popovic gave him (which she did so in her characteristic way) and she began chatting about other things, as if ignoring the weird social silence between her two friends. I distinctly remember thinking, "he smiled" and feeling relieved and smarmy. No words passed between the two of us...that seems to be a theme of these dreams that contain JL. Maybe it suggests all the things that were (and are) being unsaid. Lol, I always laughed at "dream interpretation" because I'm not sure what it means and I didn't put much stock into it. But I don't recall having this many dreams about anyone in my past, nor do I recall them being so profound that I would wake up and think about them the next day. I used to dream like this, when I was younger. I thought that all of this had just disappeared as a function of aging...this relationship may have changed me more than I realized...

Me: Child-less...

Relationships are hard. Parenthood is hard. And with both, you take a huge gamble...your partner could cheat, could lie, could hide their true intent, could simply become an asshole, become too clingy, become dependent or too independent. They could be stable but fall into a career that takes them away from you or expose them to areas that remind them that they have other skeletons in their closet that they haven't addressed. When I look around at my successfully married friends, I'm heartened for those who work really hard to make it work and I'm am heartbroken for those who feel trapped. That's a level of misery that I would never want; to make a pact with someone before all that exists to share a life with someone only to learn that the two of you aren't compatible. Damn, even typing that out made my heart shudder. And parenthood isn't any better. I just read an article by the most recent Details magazine and they show just how parenthood changes people. Kids take time, attention, money, energy, and sacrifice. Given that I'm 30 and am just now able to be independent, I think I shall be independent a little (or alot) longer. I miss my ex. When he and I were together, we talked about having kids. Later, after he broke up with me, I talked with a friend of his and it turns out, he hadn't mentioned having kids to anyone. Shocker, really. But just as I once entertained adopting kids (it was my first year in residency), time has been an amazingly good (and harsh) teacher. Kids have the capacity to be amazing (the president, develop the cure for cancer, be Jesus) or downright dangers (murderers, rapists, conniving businessmen without social conscience). The responsibility that falls on me to ensure he's more of the former than the latter is a daunting task. After I was dumped, I realized that I would only raise children with someone; I have no desire to be a willing single parent. Now that I'm accepting the prospect that I very well may be single for the rest of my life, I have to mesh the child-less aspect with that...and honestly, it doesn't bother me. I have enough biological, social, and psychological nephews and nieces that my pocketbook, my schedule, and my thoughts will be utilized quite well. :) But this way still gives me the opportunity to jaunt off to other cities and countries at my leisure. To go out dancing until 3 am when I want. To eat or not eat when I want. To be complete steward over my day. I'm sure that my feelings will change if I fall in love with someone again...but knowing I don't have to give in to the social pressures (for companionship and children) is reassuring. I feel a bit more...free.

Me: Stuck...

I wake up every day and decide how I should go about my life. Since being dumped, everyday I wake up thinking about him. I miss him alot and I still love him. But I also know the practicality of pining after someone who so obviously doesn't want me. He's living with someone else, after all.

I get into this weird mental battle between allowing myself to be used and standing up as the strong individual that I am. Worst of all, I realize that I'm the one hanging on. I'm the one making something of this...lol, actually, I am the one making anything of this. He doesn't think of us. He doesn't think of me. If he did, I would think he'd make his feelings known.

Right???

I don't know what I think or what I believe anymore. If you'd asked me 3 years ago if I would ever stick around after being dumped, I would've looked at you like you were crazy and said, (in a very Charlotte way) "fuck that shit." I would've been "out before quick got ready." And hoping he would princessly walk back into my life would've been squashed with the quickness.

So why is this so different?

Because I'm in love with this man. I would forgive him for damn near anything. I would walk through hell for him...lol, s'funny that that's exactly what I'm doing.

I picture him sleeping with Fraser. I picture him waking up to the Scotsman and eating breakfast with him. Talking about what the day entails. Planning dinner for the evening. Coming home and getting a welcoming kiss. Going out that night shopping for their dinner, laughing at inside jokes. Walking home with their treasures and cooking up a storm. Finishing up with a fine wine and lying on one another. Getting ready for bed and having hot passionate sex. Falling asleep spooning the other.

And I get jealous. And it makes me cry. And very angry. And I feel used beyond belief.

But something always pulls me back to loving this man.

This is so strange...I sometimes pray I had never met him. Or that I had broken up with him first. Or that Fraser would break his heart the same way he did mine.

But then I realize that all of that is petty and pointless for I have no control over that.

And I begin to love him again.

Why do I love him?

It doesn't make any sense at all...but then again, love really never has made sense, now has it? :)

Black Gay: Lexapro's awesome!

I've been thinking alot about this and I'm impressed at Lexapro's ability to obliterate your libido. Most people see this as a bad thing; as I would if I was in a relationship.

But since being brokenhearted and turning back to my old ways of one night stands and stupid empty sex with people who aren't looking out for my best interests, I've learned that killing your libido is actually, quite possibly, a lifesaver.

Let me explain: men are governed by their sex drive and horniness. I think that's what got the best of my ex; a piece of ass. Sad, but true.

Anywhoo, getting rid of the fog of lust can really help you determine what you need to do as a person rather than a horn-dog. Lust can make you think and do very strange things...you began to build a life with that person that's born out of some unusual desire to constantly have sex. You see them as a means to an end; a way to satiate your carnal desires whenever you want to.

But sex is far too special a journey for that and we (especially gay men) throw it around so willy nilly sometimes.

Well, I'm beginning to see some of the drawbacks of indiscriminate intimacy and maybe, just maybe, gay men aren't as good at separating intimacy from sex, the thought from the act.

So I shall continue my Lexapro; mainly because of my dysthymia and secondary seasonal affective disorder, but also because of it's side effect that's saving my life. God is good...

A lil Catholic magic...

There is something about the tonality of a Catholic chorus that just gets me everytime. This particular ditty was written by a Catholic priest. Haunting and mysterious and (of course) gorgeous.

Gregorio Allegri: Miserere Mei (Psalm 51) Motet for Chorus performed by Adrian Lucas.

I can't wait to afford more music like this. :) And then share it with everyone I know.

"The best thing a man can do for his culture when his is rich..."

I can't figure out what to do...

I'm so lost.

I'm sitting here crying my eyes out because I don't know what to do.

What can I do?

What do I do?

I'm confused.

Me: I can't believe it...

Everyone assures me that I'm a great guy. Talented, good looking, funny, compassionate, intelligent, athletic, sexy, dependable, optimistic, outgoing. It comes from all around, friends, family, associates, acquaintences. It's not gratuitous; I'm not one to solicit comments or feedback unless I think something's wrong.

So why, why can't I believe it?

I feel like a loser. As if I've never done a good thing for myself or anyone in my whole life. I feel aimless and unmotivated, two characteristics that I can't stand in most people; now I have it in spades.

What is it about Luke and my relationship that peeled back this layer? When I think about it, Luke didn't CAUSE any of this; it was already there. The breakup just unearthed it and now I have to look into it and survive the experience.

I feel needy. And deceitful towards my own self. I feel like I can't trust myself anymore; I let me latch on to someone and the result was beautifully catastrophic. I don't want this to ever happen again, but I also know that this is tragically fun.

Lively death. Deathly life. Oxymorons but that's what we live in.

Simply complex. Complexly simple.

Odd, but I don't know that the same applies to love and hate; they are, in fact, two mutually exclusive entities. There's no such thing as a hateful love or a loving hate.

I don't hate Luke. I love Luke.

Hmph..

Me: Much chagrin, but it's progress...

I hate being alone. I hate that this relationship didn't work out. But it was for the best.

Because I needed to face these demons. I needed to come to grips with my insecurities: feeling like an imposter, like the faggoty, black-hating, dumb-but-lucky, superficially confident, fiscally irresponsible, cross eyed punk that I am.

Now is my chance to learn to love it.

I laugh and ache when I think about how Luke had once said that I am strong. I'm not strong. I wasn't strong for the Reign of Calvin. I still am not as comfortable being out as I want to be. I still feel like I'm hated. And he insinuated that I could survive anything...I hang on by a string some days, literally dreading the idea of getting out of bed and trying to help others solve their problems. Apparentlyl I do a decent job; everyone keeps coming back.

But it only serves to make the feeling worse.

I think the only place where people are being strict is dance class. As much as I don't need to have something else on my plate, at least there, people are straightforward with me and tell me that I suck. Sure, it just feeds into my negative schema of myself, but when that's all you got, that's all ya got. :)

Right now, I want to enjoy this misery. Rejoice in the level of energy and commitment it takes to feel this bad. Swallow and soak in the sorrow and tears. Who knows when this time may ever come again...

Gay: Tic it on out...

So lately I've been in a mind-fuck because I keep thinking that I shouldn't be thinking about Luke. Emphasis on "shouldn't" because that's one of those words in psychiatry that we feel creates judgement and makes people feel obligated which causes distress.

Mareen has helped me realize that instead of saying "shouldn't" why not use "it would be nice to." In this case, "it would be nice if I didn't think about him all the time." She then helped walk me through the fact that, no, I don't in fact think about him all the time....or even all that much. But because I'm so concerned about how much I may or may not be thinking of him, I wear myself out.

Her suggestion: get my brain on my side. Stop fighting and go with the flow. Think about him. Devote some time and really concentrate on everything about him. Then get up and do something else. Her hypothesis is that as time goes along, I'll think about him less and less.

I know it to be true.

He thinks of me less and less...because he has someone and I don't. Thus Fraser can be a great distractor in that regard. I have time to sit and think because I have time to sit and think. This weather is actually complicating the whole picture and making it worse for me. Again, I don't have a warm body in bed with me at night. I don't have someone to cook with, to ask how their day was. I don't have someone to shower with, to eat breakfast with.

He left me. He left me.

The move will not only be cathartic but cleansing. The Purge will be amazing in itself; I'm wondering if I can pull it off. The Move will seal the deal. In Texas, there is no Luke. And if I choose, I can wipe him from my memory for the rest of my life...it's far easier when there is nothing to jog the memory...think of it as the high school years, or some of the college years.

Til then, I find a quiet place to tic about Luke. Until the anxiety is lessened. Then I get up, dust off, and go about my day until I need to let the attack resurface. But as Pema and Spezzano attest, running from this won't help. I must lean into it and explore what I can while I have it.

Me: Wants and needs...

What am I looking forward to the most in my move to Texas?

1. New beginning: I can't wait to "start over." I can reinvent myself...likely for the last time since I may end up working at this job for a really long time. No more drama, less baggage, more me time.

2. New place: though I loathe to admit it, I'm thinking of renting an apartment for 6 months. It'll be kinda cool to be all of 5 minutes from work. That way I can run home if I ever forgot anything or can't stand to use the bathroom at work :)

3. Less stuff: I've amassed alot of material goods while I've been here. And as Luke and I learned during my time in Edinburgh, "you don't need alot of stuff to be happy...so don't go buying all that superfluous bullshit that don't mean anything." I'm actually kinda excited to have an empty apartment with just a bed, desk, bookcase, and some kitchen stuff. Minimalistic.

4. Music: I think I'll hold off for a little while with joining a singing group. Instead I plan on taking up the guitar and truly throwing myself into learning at least one instrument. I wonder if I'll be able to play and sing at the same time...dancing and singing is daunting, so who knows. :)

5. Recaptured spirituality: between the Pema Chodron and Spezzano, I'm really digging Eastern thought and the importance of centering oneself and living in the moment. Being near Austin will facilitate this, I hope.

6. Mexican food. Nuff, said.

Me: Parenting...

No kids.

Yet.

I can and still would have kids with Luke.

But not on my own.

Why?

Single parents are doubly amazing. But I don't want to raise my kids alone. It's simply to daunting of a task.

For instance, today I saw my 14 y/o ODD/ADHD kid who's Mom is a bit stringent sometimes. Today, she broke down and told me about the 15 y/o sister's possible diagnosis of cancer. My 14 y/o was shocked as this was his first time hearing it. Mom's stress was also being misdirected towards him, making him more on edge and causing them to argue.

Or think about the fact that when kids get sick, there are snow days, or they simply refuse to go to school. Or the fact that they must be fed, preferably on time. Or that they must be clothed, but they continue to outgrow what you buy. Or that they become independent people with time and they may develop personalities that you don't even like. Or that they may get cancer and suffer. Or that they may take risks that end up very positive (athletics) or very negative (injuries.)

Am I up to the challenge? Not now. Not alone.

I'm becoming okay with being the rich uncle to my hordes of nephews and nieces. That way I can influence from afar and still sleep, eat, play, dream, plan, cry, sing, shout, and love when I want to.

Where did this come from? It's a change of paradigms...Luke helped cause it. I keep learning more and more about myself from this whole experience...

Me: Once again, the magic of music...

I have two more amazing clips to note:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xjZ0SRD5EOs&NR=1&feature=fvwp

And the second is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUVtqm_SgA4&feature=related

It's a song I first hauntingly heard at Junior High East from the concert choir. I didn't know the melody would stick in my craw for years to come. The first link is the master class of classically kinda singing. The second is a slightly more modern version, but still beautiful in it's own right. What the men of Chanticleer do is just amazing. Truly amazing.

It helps remind me that the world is more than my misery.

Me: The Rich Gay Uncle...

After Luke, I'm taking a reprieve from serious relationships and serious life plans. My latest change is the want and need to have children.

When I was in a stable relationship, daunting tasks like having and raising kids did not seem daunting. I saw the instability of families I ran across at work as a challenge. Now that I'm single, having kids has become the worst idea ever. Lol. Don't get me wrong; I love children and I feel that my calling is helping others care for the next generation.

But not by myself.

So instead, I think my life plan has changed a bit. I'm going to get out of educational debt within 3 years, credit card debt in 2 years, and become the jet-setting single rich uncle to my nephews and nieces. And I mean ALL of my nephews and nieces, including those children of my closest friends whom I feel are family.

Like Miles, Aubrey, Adam, etc.

The advent of the MeatMarkets makes things easier from the sexual release perspective...and since right now I have no vested interest in being in a relationship, I might as well have as much fun as I can, right?

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Me: Another great song...

Simple and pure. This piece is another treasure that popped up on Pandora. It reminds me of walking through the woods, taking in the smells, the sights, the sunlight streaming down through the canopy.

Ah...

Gymnopedie for Piano No. 1: Gynmnopedi No. 1 by Erik Satie.