A Homecoming

Up until a few days ago, I was still vacillating over going back to my hometown until my move (thus living with my parents and having to get up at 4:30 every morning for work), or staying where I am and enduring the cost of rent and bills, making it that much harder to save money for my move. Well, that stopped when my old roommate called to tell me about her talk with our old apartment complex.

It seems she and my other roommate went to the office to find out an estimate on charges they’d be giving us, or even if they’d had a chance to check it out. We moved out August 11th, so they should have had plenty of time to see it and make a judgment or two. Well they’d seen it all right, but they didn’t have a price for us yet. It seems that we somehow left the apartment in such bad shape that they haven’t even calculated how much it’s going to cost us. It was one of the worst apartments they’d ever seen, and how dare we leave it that way. My two old roommates were berated by the office manager right in front of everyone, office staff and potential renters alike. She was furious that someone had left a bed broken in one of the rooms (completely not any of us, but the fourth person, whom we did not get along with), and that our oven door was broken. For that issue, we have a work order on file in the office telling them they needed to come fix it, and one of the people in the office expressly told us not to worry about it since they simply didn’t have enough time to get to it before we moved out. Now the office manager is telling us that the oven door is not a routine repair, and that they’ll have to replace the entire appliance (at our expense of course). They even mentioned changing out the carpet in the common areas (which I understand but don’t like), and all the bedrooms (which they said they were doing pretty much because they felt like it. My carpet was spotless, and I am proud of it. Screw them).

Well, once I was told about them mentioning payment plans, I knew it was time to pack up yet again and do anything to save some money. The office told us we would have our bill within 30 days, but I’m not waiting until then to get out of here. I’m hoping to leave by this coming weekend, before the semester starts again. So that means the coming week will be filled to the brim with packing and sorting once more. I plan on using this week (and the coming semester before my move) to purge my belongings and pare it down to, if not the bare necessities, my more basic needs and wants. It will be a long hard time toughing it out in my podunk hometown (without Internet, by the way), but I’ll survive. I always do. The hardest thing will be leaving my friends here, but if I can’t survive a 45 minute separation, how will I move across country?

Well, that’s my most up to date plan for now. Work will have to adjust to me not being able to close at all, but I know they’ll be fine. And on the plus side, I’ll have lots of opportunities to get some overtime. I just have to remember, I’m doing this all for my future, for my potential happiness at starting a new life in a new place. I’m scared shitless sometimes, but I’ll make it through.

-Liridon

A Limbo Large and Broad

So here I am, stuck in one place but wanting desperately to be in a different one.

I decided probably early to mid summer to commit to moving to Connecticut and starting over there. I didn’t look for apartments, I didn’t look for another job, I didn’t do anything but save money and try to figure out how much the whole thing would cost. Then my brother drops the bomb: he and his wife really aren’t ready for my parents to come and visit (which they were planning to do around the end of July), much less read for someone to come live with them. Would it be alright for more to wait until December? With maybe five sentences my brother effectively crushed my plans. I was faced with the unwelcome task of finding an apartment within a month, preferably something cheap, and with as short a lease as possible.

Well after a bit of searching I found a reasonable place, I guess. A small (500 sq. ft.) semi-studio (bookshelves separate the bedroom from the living area) for only $330/month plus utilities/bills. And they allowed a six month lease (pretty rare in a college town) with minimal deposit and even the first month free. A good deal, right? I signed my lease and got my key yesterday. Using a friend’s car, I packed up a few boxes and happily took the first of my possessions over to my new, if temporary, home. Last night was when the doubt really set in.

At about 2:30, maybe 3:00 in the morning I woke up with an intense regret at having signed the lease. See, my original plan was to move at the end of the fall semester, around Christmas when my parents had decided they were going up to see my brother anyway, thus ensuring Christmas with the family, and even a little extra moving help if needed. With the new lease, I was stuck in the place until January 31st, a full month and a half later than I wanted. On top of that, if I broke the lease I’d have to pay not only the rent for the remaining months (which I expected), but also the difference between the rent I was paying and the market value for it (about a $50 difference per month = $250) AND the month they’d given me for free in the first place. All totaled, I think it comes to about $624, plus the rent for January and December since I have to give them sixty days notice. That’s a hell of a lot of money to spend when you’re trying to move across country, and when your place of work is closed for a month in late December/early January for winter break.

So a new idea came to me after all this information rushed through my head so early in the morning. The company that owns the complex offers a 30 day money back guarantee if for some reason I’m not satisfied with the management, grounds, construction, etc. This means I can get out of my lease if I fill out a form within 30 days. It’s a like a godsend for the indecisive. So I can get out of my apartment that I’m regretting, thereby possibly saving money. But I bet you’re wondering, where will I live? Am I doomed to wander the streets until December, living in the school union and washing myself in the public restrooms until my moving day? No, such is not my fate fortunately. You see, I can suck it up and go live with my parents or grandfather in a nearby town until I can move up there. Granted, this would mean I would have to open every morning at work (so I’d be at work around 5 or 6 am), but I wouldn’t have to pay rent or bills for those roughly five months. I could save potentially $3000, maybe more. Add that to the extra money I would have after expenses anyway and I could have a nice chunk of change saved up for my move. Besides, living with my grandfather, I could butter him up a bit and try to buy his very nice car from him for cheap. He’s legally blind, he doesn’t need it anyway. The only thing I’d have to pay for is the days I had the apartment, my use of the electricity/water, and of course food at home.

Don’t get me wrong, though, this isn’t exactly a wonderful option. My parents/grandfather do not have internet, and I know that will kill me. Also, getting up and being at work so early will certainly wear on me all too quickly, not to mention being away from my friends with no car right now to get to them. But I talked with them, and Susan has already mentioned that it wouldn’t be a big deal to spend the night every once in a while so we can still hang out and everything. It’s really the social aspect of leaving and living with my family that’ll kill me, but I figure if I can’t deal with it here, how am I supposed to handle it when I’m 2000 miles away?

So you’ve heard all of this, and you can make your own judgments. But there’s one more thing: I may have met someone who lives in Connecticut right now, only a half hour away from my brother’s place. He’s funny, smart, and passionate. We have a lot of the same interests, and he’s wonderfully mature for his age (22). While we haven’t been talking that much, there could definitely be something here. While of course I’m not going to base a big life decision like this on one guy I just met, it is something to consider. I’ve perused the personal ads around my bro’s place, and there are some very good prospects. A lot fewer hicks and rednecks, you know?

And that’s all the information I have right now. I’m going to talk to my parents about it either over the weekend or early next week, and I’ll be sure to get some information from the apartment complex on Monday, just in a sort of reconnaissance mission.

*     *     *     *     *

Hmm…  As I’m sitting here watching my friends (and a few random casual acquaintances) play a Star Wars RPG game, I can’t help but wonder if I really can leave them to live my own life so far away.  I’m only an observer in this game, not a player (not really my thing I guess), which tells me they’ll be fine without me.  But what about me?  How do you make new friends, especially close ones like those you have now?

Home Sweet Home?

Well, it’s almost 11:00pm on Sunday night.  I’ve been back in Oklahoma for twelve hours now.  Super happy fun time for me, as you can guess.

I went to Connecticut over this past week, and despite the fact the I had to get up at 2:45 (central time) to catch my flight this morning, I thought I’d share a few thoughts about it.  First of all, I was surprised at just how much I liked it up there.  The last time I went to see my brother and sister-in-law was two years ago, and I remember having the impression that there were too many highways and not enough things to do near by.  It seemed like everywhere we went was at least twenty minutes away.  Now I kind of see that as a blessing.  My brother and his wife live in a fairly quiet neighborhood in Bristol, but so many things are just ten or twenty minutes away.  You get the serenity (at least some level of it) and the advantages of city life at the same time.  They’re a half hour from Hartford, there’s plenty of shopping and restaurants around, and (big for me right now) a branch of the University of Connecticut is only fifteen minutes away.  By the end of the week, I was trying to figure out how to get my stuff up there.

So while I was up shootin the breeze and hanging out, I visited two graduate departments at UConn (social work, and public policy).  While I pretty much knew what to expect with the social work department, I found that my hour long meeting with one of the administrators of the department of public policy to be very encouraging and even enlightening.  We discussed the classes in detail, the philosophy of the department, trends in what current students were studying.  I told her that I was thinking about working with gays and lesbians, either in a civil rights avenue or a counseling method, and she was on board with that.  After that meeting, I started wishing I could take courses there and get my masters in public administration, and take enough courses to be certified as a licensed counselor as well.  I’d something that’s near my brother since I’ll be staying with them until I find a place, so maybe I’ll looking into some other surround schools.  I’ve also thought about a dual degree with public administration and social work, but who knows if that’ll pan out.

If someone were to ask me what I did on my week long trip, I’m not sure what I’d tell them.  For the most part I just hung out with my brother and sister-in-law and piddled around town.  We went to the movies, out to eat, to the mall for a bit, to different shopping areas, and even to a Titanic exhibit in Hartford.  I guess the biggest thing we did was go to New York City on Saturday to spend the day, but that’s only a small part of why I had a good time.  The longer I stayed there, the more I came to like the area and the possibilities that it could hold for me.  There’s museums, restaurants, shopping, new people, new ideas, bigger cities (come on, New York and Boston are only a relative hop and skip away)…  Even French Canada is accessible, as I found during one of my meetings.

But now comes the hard part.  How do I make the final decision to get my ass up there and, more pragmatically, how do I find the means to get all my stuff up there without it costing an arm and a leg?  Do I buy a car here and haul it myself, or do I get a U-Haul?  Leave a lot of stuff behind, or take everything I own (which is my first inclination since I’m somewhat of a pack rat)?  And what about my friends here?  While I was up there I had these wonderful visions of me inviting some friends up to see my new apartment and to let me show them around the area, maybe go to New York for a day…  But at night, when I had more time to think, I wondered about the things I would miss out on here, and how hard it’s going to be for me to make new friends.  I’ve had the same friends since high school, some of them since middle school.

But I won’t let myself dwell on stuff like that.  I’m trying to stay positive.  My sister-in-law is very optimistic about all this and is really excited about me moving up there, so I’ll try to channel her for a while.  Anyway, it’s getting kind of hard for me type anymore because I’m getting so groggy…  Maybe I’ll write more tomorrow.  I’m always thinking of something to write, even if I don’t post as often as I’d like to.

-Liridon

Love, Sex, and Charlie

I know it’s been a bit since I last posted, but honestly not too much has happened in my life that’s worth reporting. My roommate got robbed while three of us were home, but I feel as if that’s more of a private issue rather than something worthy of debate in the great Metaverse (i.e., the internet. lol). Suffice it to say that the roomie is taking it quite well actually, and is already trying to move on and look at the bright side.

In my life, one thing has happened that is of note: I actually met someone of the male persuasion and actually got together with them in person for a bit. At the time I was originally going to write this post (about a week or so ago, actually) we’d just parted from our first meeting only a few hours ago, and I was eager to tell the world about my new dilemma. You see, Charlie is a smart guy I suppose, funny in his own way and obviously passionate about life and people. A very understanding and accepting person, he is comfortable with himself and comfortable allowing those around him to feel how they wish to feel.

The night we met up, it was already two in the morning. Being somewhat of an early bird, especially compared to someone like him who was a complete and total night owl, this was very late for me, but as it was a Saturday night I though what the hell. He got a ride over to my side of town (He’s thirty and has no car of his own), and we spent the next two and a half hours out in the park next to my complex. I would like to say we spent it talking and laughing, having some innocent fun and all, but the truth is there was more making out than anything else. Don’t get me wrong, there was talking and laughing and all that, but I just wanted to feel contact with another human male again. We got along alright, but I knew something was wrong.

As soon as I laid eyes on him, I knew it would never work out in the end. Putting it bluntly, I was simply not attracted to him at all physically. I know it’s vain of me to think such things, especially as I myself am not exactly eye candy and therefore wish people to overlook my physical shortcomings, but that’s how it is. See him, barely taller than me with a gut hanging over his waistband and ill fitting baggy clothes on sealed the deal. Combine this with the fact that he’s thirty with no college degree, no apparent ambitions that don’t revolve around comic books, and a mediocre night job at Walmart made him all around bad for me, even on paper. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the fact that he was so confident and comfortable with himself and others, and that he was so accepting of others’ foibles, including my own. I guess that’s what really attracted me to him. It was simply a man who was interested in me. Am I really so starved for male companionship that I would carry on a pseudo-relationship with someone I wasn’t really interested in and didn’t even find attractive just to use them to build my surprisingly fragile self-esteem, then ultimately dump them once I decided enough was enough, as I actually considered doing? My thoughts were that I would have a little fun with this guy, maybe try to get to the point where I actually feel good about myself with men, then move on to what I really want.

The entire time we were together I was thinking something along these lines. Granted, I considered we could just be friends, because I really think that would be possible and I would like more gay friends, but that wouldn’t satisfy my desire for male contact that was beyond sexual and more a desire for intimacy than anything else. Fortunately I didn’t have to make this decision in the end. I saw him Saturday night/Sunday morning, and on Tuesday morning before I left for work, I got a message from him on MySpace (where we met) telling me that while I was a great guy he wasn’t really ready for dating after all but he hoped we could still be friends. While normally this would have destroyed me (even without any physical or emotional attraction I can be quite vulnerable), for once I was actually pretty fine. I replied and told him that I understood, and that while I thought I was ready to date, maybe we just weren’t a good fit. And that was that.

But that was a lie, as I realized later. While ruminating about our brief time together, I thought of the last time I looked at him. We were walking through the vast space that is my apartment complex towards the back where my building is located. He was doing this as a nicety to me, as his ride was picking him up at the front, and I acknowledged the gesture without glancing behind me. Now, each building in the complex has a central walkway that cuts through them, thus allowing the entrances to the apartments to be covered but not enclosed. We got to my building, and stopped just inside the covered area, under the first of the three lights that line the ceiling. For some reason I was wary about him knowing which apartment exactly was mine, so it was here that I turned to him to say goodbye for the night. We’d just spent nearly two solid hours making out in the dark of a part, only the stars and streetlights to illuminate our loveless tryst. Under the harsh glow of the security lighting I finally realized that this would never work. He smiled at me and said he’d had a good time and hoped he could see me again. I mumbled something in acquiescence, and he pulling towards him for a final kiss. I resisted only slightly, but I think he felt it nonetheless. I just saw his crooked grin and almost pleading eyes, and smelled the cigarettes on his clothes. I knew I couldn’t do it. Not only would I not be able to fake a relationship with him, but I couldn’t even fake a goodbye. We kissed awkwardly, and he turned to walk away. I watch him for a moment, thinking that I would probably never see him again. Then I walked quietly back to my apartment where I crept into bed silently, wishing for the morning to come.

As I said, while meditating on this last encounter I realized something. Maybe I’m not ready for a relationship. Maybe I’ve been so crippled by a lack of real male contact and intimacy that I don’t know how to have one. Maybe I’ve been relying too much on outside influences to judge my worth and desirability. I know that one should never rely on others to formulate opinions of oneself and one’s worth, but when you go as long as I have with very few dates and no relationships other than those conjured up in your own head, you tend to start thinking that maybe it’s you who’s not good enough, that it’s you who’s somehow too fragile, too guarded, too damaged, and too naive to be boyfriend material. I have a lot of love inside me, I know I do, but maybe I need to start focusing on getting to the point where I love myself regardless of the presence or lack of a man’s attention, and then try to get the man.

For years now I’ve known deep down inside that I am happiest and most secure with myself when I know that someone likes me, has a crush on me, or even just wants to get in my pants. I eat less and smile more when I have a crush on someone and feel that that crush is returned, and as a fat man with too much sarcasm, that’s a good thing. The last time someone professed feelings for me (which ended in heartache on my part, but it’s my own damn fault for falling for him), I had a spring in my step and a laugh in my heart for a brief moment, and nothing could bring me down. I felt as if I could challenge the world and win. Without something like that, I’m only confident in myself when I’m by myself and I’ve allowed music, or books, or ideas to inspire me into believing that I am a person capable of loving and being loved equally.

I’m not saying that my own guarded self-esteem is excuse for wanting to use Charlie the way I considered, or is even an excuse for wanted to make out with a man I barely know just for contact with another man, but it does explain a lot about me. I’ve known for a while now that I need to be secure with myself before I can really be an equal player in a relationship, but this thing with Charlie just sealed the deal I guess. I’ve been stuck in the same vicious cycles of sarcasm and wit hiding my insecurities, then retreating the safe cocoon of my friends to cover up my loneliness. Maybe it really is time to get out of Oklahoma and move on to somewhere else, somewhere where I can try to break these habits and become the person I want to be. But that will be a topic for a later post. It’s getting late here, and I’d like to do some reading before I go to bed.

On a final side note, I hate to sound so after school special on here, or so preachy in my own way, but I know of no other way to get these feelings out. Thank you all for listening (or rather, for reading), and goodnight to all you wonderful people out there exploring this great and beautiful Metaverse that we’ve created. Sometimes it seems more believable version of reality to people than the physical world.

-Liridon

On the subject of virtues, and life in general.

Sometime last week, not longer after my last post actually, I was at work when a coworker told me that someone had said that he had no virtues. I confronted this person, not necessarily in an offended manner, and asked her why this coworker had no virtues. She had no real answer, but simply laughed and said, “He’s just (insert name of coworker here).” While I realize that that comment was made only in lighthearted jest (as everyone at work knows that it is particularly easy and hilarious to goad this coworker into some semblance of annoyance), it got me thinking about virtue.

Is there such a thing as a person with absolutely no virtues? Is there someone out there or in the annals of history who is completely devoid of redeeming qualities? Before I go further, I suppose I should clarify what I mean by “virtue”. Objects in general have what is called a normative virtue, that is, they have a distinct purpose for their existence, like the virtue of a knife is to cut. But “virtue” can also have a moral value. What I mean by “virtue” is simply something that most people in society could classify as “good” about a person. Is there something about the person that you could say is nice, however small? I realize that this definition is highly subjective, but then again most things involving morals, values, or ideals seem to be that way.

Being a recent psychology graduate, I tend to focus on the more psychological side of things if I can, so I’m reminded of Seligman and Peterson’s research and book “Character Strengths and Virtues: A Handbook and Classification”. This a psychological book in the positive tradition, and is an attempt to classify and measure the universal strengths and virtues (obviously) that are applicable to the widest possible range of human cultures. They found six broad categories of virtues:

wisdom and knowledge (creativity, curiosity, open-mindedness, love of learning, etc)

courage (bravery, persistence, integrity, vitality)

humanity (love, kindness, social intelligence)

justice (citizenship, fairness, leadership)

temperance (forgiveness and mercy, humility and modesty, prudence)

transcendence (appreciation of beauty and excellence, gratitude, spirituality, hope, humor)

This really seems to cover just about everything. So surely everyone would have something on this list that could apply to them. From what I’ve seen of history, many people, though considered “morally” bad or evil, still have a love of learning, or a desire for their version of fairness. Adolf Hitler is said to have been actually quite the family man, very loving toward the children of his top officers. Granted, his love was only for those select few that passed his admittedly skewed ideals, but the love or affection was nonetheless there. His humanity was simply very limited. For a little story about ‘family man’ Hitler, go here.

I guess in the end I answered my own question pretty easily. Virtues are subjective, and can have nothing whatsoever to do with religion or morality if that is what someone chooses, so in the end it is very likely that at least one virtue could be found in even the most seemingly heinous people, not to mention my rather innocent (by comparison) coworker. Maybe this was a weak topic for a post, but the idea really struck me that someone could be without virtue and still just live anonymously among us, even as a coworker.

On a completely different topic entirely, I’ve been doing some soul searching you might say as to what I should do with my life. I’ve just turned 24, and I feel like options are running out. I have a BA in psychology with an admittedly useless minor in French (which I loved, by the way), and I don’t know where to go next. Right now I think I would be happy just having a job that I like at least somewhat where I don’t come home smelling like hamburgers. I’m working for a grad student on the side as an unpaid research assistant, and I absolutely love the fact that I can wear pretty much whatever I want when I go to work there. But on top of the job hunt, I don’t know if having just a BA will keep my happy and might I add financially secure for very long. I’ve been looking into grad school, but my options feel limited. I don’t want to be stuck in a university doing research for the rest of my life, but at the same time I’m not sure about become a psychologist and doing therapy and all that. I went into psychology honestly because I love studying and learning about people, but I hate the research process. It’s too tedious. Now I’m just ready to get out their and do something in the world, preferably in a nice salaried position with health benefits.

But what do I do, dear readers? Before my 25th birthday comes around, I have a few things I would like to accomplish: first, I would like to lose some weight and get in better shape. I think I’d like to start my next quarter of a century off right. Second, I want to have a job that I’m happy with, though I don’t know what kind of job that would be right now, or where it would be. I would also like to be decided on whether I’m going to grad school or not, and where and for what degree. Third, I’d like to have my own place, with some new friends, and possibly a nice significant other to invite over occasionally.

See, I’m not really asking for much I guess. The weight thing is my own issue, one that I have unfortunately struggled with for some time. I find it hard to motivate myself to go to the gym and lay off the sweet foods. Bad me, I know. The job/school thing is a big issue for me because I don’t know if I want to stay in Oklahoma. I’m really considering going to Connecticut to be near my brother, but that scares and saddens me a bit. I’d be losing my friends, and I’d be far away from most of my family for an extended amount of time. But I know I need to do what’s best for me. While I really would like to stay in the city I’m in and be near my friends and family, I also need to figure out what I’m missing in my life, and how to be happy.

Any advice, readers? I know one of you has really pushed for me to move to one of the coasts, but what about everything else? I think I’ll give my brother a call sometime this week and talk to him about all this. We haven’t really been very close lately, but I could really use his input.

As always, you’ve all been wonderful. ^_^

-Liridon

A Howl in a Technological Abyss

Just yesterday I heard a recording of Oklahoma State Representative Sally Kern bashing gay people and saying that their “agenda” was hurting the nation, and that the gay community is more of a threat to this country than terrorism or Islamic fundamentalists. She compares the gay community to cancer of the toe, i.e., a disease that will spread to the rest of the body if something isn’t done about it. (For a transcript of her poisonous, hateful rant, go to http://www.boxturtlebulletin.com/2008/03/08/1600.)

Excuse me for being so blunt, but where does this self-righteous whore of a vengeful god get off with saying this and then hiding behind freedom of speech? Don’t get me wrong, I fully acknowledge her right to say as she pleases in the public discourse, to express her views and opinions in any manner she deems fit, but she cannot turn around and get defensive because, big surprise, some people are pissed off. What really puts the icing on the cake is that, in interviews after the tape was leaked online, she rants that the American public shouldn’t have the gay agenda “shoved down their throats” in our public schools and media. Well you know what, I don’t want your agenda shoved down mine either. You are the reason the rest of the country laughs at Oklahoma, you are the reason the rest of the world laughs and America, and you are the reason so many people are fleeing Christianity and the crazy people involved in it.

I know name calling isn’t exactly the best way to progress an intellectual discussion, but this swollen hemorrhoid of a legislator is a perfect example of what is wrong with this country. She is a disgrace to our nation, and she and her cohorts are the ones directly responsible for setting this country back decades in the areas of social, political, and scientific advancement.

*whew* There. I kept the rant short. But seriously people, this news really hit me on an obviously personal level. As a gay Oklahoman, I’m appalled that such people claim to represent me and other gay people here, and I’m even more appalled when thinking that, in the actual truth of the matter, it is most likely that more people in this state agree with her than not. For the first time I can remember I got so angry and upset that I wanted to cry, scream, punch something, and run away all the same time. The word and poem “Howl” came to mind as it dawned on my just how much fighting there is left to do in order for me and those like me to be considered nothing more than a slight variation on the norm.

Stemming from a comment posted by “god” on my previous post, it really got me thinking about moving away from this state that progression forgot. My older brother lives in Connecticut, and I’ve heard that New Haven is a fairly liberal city, so maybe I could move up there. I think after all this I really need a change of scenery. It would be nice to go somewhere I don’t secretly fear being tied to a fence post and beaten to death simply because my hips sway a little more than most guys’, or because I happen to love musical theatre.

In my previous post, “god” suggested I get the hell out of middle America and move to one of the coasts. While I don’t think I’m too big of a fan of the west one, I do like the east, and the fact that my bro could be nearby makes it a more plausible idea for me. See, I have a desire to start my life anew and become more independent, but at the same time I fear that if there’s not something I know nearby I’ll go crazy and end up getting a bit too freaked by all the changes. You know, maybe I need to take baby steps. But whatever the case, the lease I have for my current apartment isn’t up until August, so I have some time to stew over the possibilities.

As for now, I will make this a short post and leave you with a bit of Allen Ginsberg’s “Footnote to Howl”. Think about it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!

    The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy!

Everything is holy! Everybody’s holy! Everywhere is holy!

    Everyday is in eternity! Every man’s an angel!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

-Liridon

Gaze anew at the heart that once was, for all answers are within.

I was once a very happy child. I ran and played outside with my friends all the time, and knew without a doubt that my parents loved me. I was loud and talkative, outgoing even, and always dreaming of some new fantasy world. Magic was everywhere for me then. My mother praised my accomplishments, and I accepted without thought my silent father’s assumed love and admiration. My brother was an older brother, bothersome but protective. Life was good.

I miss being that child sometimes. As with many people, when I hit puberty things became awkward. I quickly moved into middle school where there were a lot more kids, and suddenly I was conscious of the fact that I was different, that dreams and make-believe weren’t acceptable to this crowd. I had always been chubby, bordering on fat, but that hadn’t seemed too much of a problem before as I was always the smart kid who made perfect grades, and I was okay with that. I had my friends that I lived on the same block with, and that’s all I needed. But middle school brought changes, as it always does, and I became aware of social cliques, fitting in, and the inevitable desire to have a companion in an intimate sense. It wasn’t until late in I believe eighth grade that I knew “gay” was the word to describe me, and believe me, it was a bit of a shock. I had always assumed I was normal. I got good grades, went to church with my family when I was younger, fought with my older brother most of the time, and played with my friends whenever possible. But I liked girls as friends and companions. I found myself lusting after boys, later men, though at the time I couldn’t have told you what exactly “lust” meant.

I was shy in middle school, though I did make some friends, many of which I am still friends with now. I entered high school with those friends, and with them came back out of my shell again, at least a little bit. I became a bit more confident, sure in my abilities as a smart kid and a band geek. Yet I knew I was still on the cusp of groups. I was a smart kid, but didn’t do the geeky things like D & D or other rpg’s. Nor did I join the science clubs and do math for fun in my free time. I loved band, but also kept up with some of the more popular trends. My friends and I called ourselves “the outcasts” in jest because we certainly weren’t the popular kids, but we also didn’t fit into the other cliques, like the goths, nerds, jocks, or drama geeks. Even the band geeks thought we were different, and we didn’t care. I guess that’s what helped my confidence come back. There were people on the edge just like me.

But today, after just graduating college, I still feel as if I’m on the edge of groups. I never liked going to wild drunken parties, and I never had time for most clubs or groups. I got decent grades, and managed to keep the same friends I came to college with, with the addition of a few others. My only boyfriend was my last semester of high school, and I’ve only slept with someone twice. I have been boyfriend-less the entire time during college, with only a few real dates interspersed here and there. Now I feel as if I’ve been holding myself back for the stupidest reasons. I’ve always thought myself too heavy to fit in with the other gays on campus, the ones with uber-fashionable clothes and way too much time to spend on their hair or love life. And I never put myself out there enough to find any dates, so I know I only have myself to blame.

But I have come to an intriguing, somewhat disturbing realization as of late. I know now that my loud, talkative self hasn’t “come back” at all, but has become a facade to hide my insecurities. I am the guy who uses sometimes mean humor and sarcasm to hide his jealousy and contempt for both himself and those he sees as having rejected him. I find it hard sometimes to feel happy for my friends’ accomplishments because I want to accomplish things as well. I go through the motions of being upset about things or trying to comfort someone, but in reality I have no idea what to do in those situations, and I have a psych degree. It sounds cliche, but I need to work on loving myself.

Until very recently I didn’t know the main source of my insecurities, but over the years I’ve figured it out: it’s my father. Throughout childhood while my mother would praise me for every accomplishment, every good grade, my father was absent, always working and too tired to do much when he got home. I accepted this when I was younger as just how my dad was. But later, even in high school, it began to get harder and harder to get some praise out of my parents. Mom always loved my good grades, but they both rarely ever attended a band concert after about 9th grade, and they never came to a game or marching contest to see me march, though Mom went to almost all of my brother’s home football games. I began practically asking, begging for recognition. I would start to brag about doing well on a test or how well the band did at contest. While it wasn’t obvious to me then, now it seems as if this behavior should have been obvious to my parents. They should have known on some level that my talkative nature had changed from the ramblings of a boy full of ideas to the cries of a boy full of needs.

I don’t blame them for their mistakes, because I do think they did the best they knew how. They love me, and always have, or so I believe. Mom I have no doubt about most of time, though she can be rather selfish and lately hasn’t been as supportive as I’d like her to be. But Dad is ever the silent type. He teases all the time (not to me, but rather while talking about me to others) that I talk all the time, and that he’s gotten very good at tuning me out. What he doesn’t seem to realize is that every time I try to talk to him about what’s going in my life with my friends or anything, it is me desperately trying to get him to talk to me about anything. I work with my father right now (yes I know, pathetic), and he is my manager. We see each other quite a bit, so I have a lot of opportunities to say things to him. I’ll go into his office to talk about what’s going on in my life, how I’m looking for an apartment in town or saving up for a car, or anything, and most times I don’t get a word of response. While I realize we are both at work and busy, it wouldn’t be that hard for him to acknowledge me and give me some sort of fatherly encouragement. For example, as you readers know I’m apartment hunting, trying to make a budget to get a place and buy not only a car but furniture to go into my new digs. I know my parents can’t really help financially as they’re short on money, so that’s not my problem. But when I mention it to Mom she gets upset or worried and tells that she doesn’t think I should live on my own, that I should have roommates again (and work with Dad until I go to grad school apparently). She gotten clingy to the point of suffocation sometimes, and in a way I understand it, as my older brothers live halfway across the country in Connecticut. I get that she wants me nearby, but I know that she doesn’t realize how much she hurts me I get no reassurance from her.

At the other end of the spectrum, Dad gives me almost no reaction at all, and when I finally do exhort a response from him, it’s usually of the sort that mentions how much money it costs to have your own place, or how I don’t need a car (even though I’m a college graduate trying to start a life on my own). One of my supervisors (a guy right below my dad in the managerial hierarchy) has said that Dad has told him how proud he is of me, but I find it hard to believe him. Would it be so hard to get some love and encouragement from him? Only yesterday I found myself thrilled that I found an excuse to work next to him and actually have a conversation. Even at the time I thought how pathetic it was that I was so happy just to be talking to the man I see five days a week at least.

I believe that these father issues are what directed me to like older men, though I never got so far as to go after anyone near my dad’s age. Older men (say around 30-40) have always had an appeal to me, as they are more likely to be put together, to be more knowledgeable, and more likely to have their life in order. Thankfully, I’ve become more and more open to relationships with men my own age, though I’d still prefer to be the younger one (and the shorter one if possible, but that’s erroneous.) These issues are also responsible for my constant need for reassurance in a relationship that I am loved or at least well-liked, and why I get so attached to a man or develop a little crush on a guy as soon as he says something reasonably nice to me. At least now I have an idea was is behind some of my issues, so I can tackle them head on. I crave love and affection from a man, so I end up formulating wild fantasies in my mind involving the most recent available man that has come into my life that was nice to me. But this desire for affection has crippled me into fearing rejection as well, so I end up sitting home on Saturday nights hanging out with my roommates, all of whom are female. I have no gay friends to speak of (that aren’t lesbians of course), and have no idea where I’m going to meet someone now that college is over, at least for a while.

I know I want love, a long term relationship filled with affection, intimacy, and trust. But I’m also afraid that my weight, or my looks, or my mean jokes caused by insecurities, will keep me from finding that. (I’m also keenly aware that I’ve been sounding very whiny in this post, especially in the section directly discussing my parents’ behaviors, but please bear with me. Everyone needs to be self-indulgent and whiny at times, especially on their own blog.) My new task has been to get me to love myself once more. I will stop eating emotionally, and I will stop making excuses not to go out, or go to the gym, or meet new people. I will be sociable and kind, and be genuinely happy when a friend succeeds. I want to go back to that child I was before whose greatest thrill was seeing someone laugh and smile, who loved nothing more than to play, dream, and love.

I know that answers to my problems lie within in me, in that child’s heart that was once mine to care for. Can the reality I want be that which is hidden inside of me? I’ll keep you posted.

-Liridon

Finally Beginning?

Recently I’ve been looking for a new apartment around town, someplace that I can call my own. So far, I’ve only lived with my parents, or with roommates. But now, I think I’m finally ready to find a place and live on my own, with my own furniture, my own car, my own rules. The problem is, I own virtually no furniture, have no car to speak of, and am currently in the process of saving up the money with which to realize my dream of solitary living.

I won’t go into specifics about my income, but if my income were to stay relatively the same, I can see myself having to spend about half of it on rent and bills alone, not including car insurance/payments, food, and other miscellaneous expenditures. Since I’ve recently gotten my bachelor’s, I’m looking for a new job, one that hopefully involves a steady work week (with evenings and weekends free, ideally), and a pay raise. I’m tired of working fast food, and though the money is actually pretty good, I need a change. Though I know that I will get lonely sometimes in my new place, and I’ll regret my decisions sometimes, I know this will be good for me in building my independence and forcing me to handle the world on my own. While I wish my parents could help out more, it’s kind of nice knowing that whatever I get, I get it on my own, with my own efforts and ingenuity. I feel as if I can finally begin my life.

I imagine my new job being challenging but not completely overbearing, involving meeting new people and opportunities for advancement in the future. I picture having friends over for dinner, or a movie night, or drinks. Whatever, so long as I can get out there and meet people. I know I picture this future for one reason only: I’m afraid I’ll become somewhat of a hermit if I live on my own. I can be on the shy side, and can come off as needy or awkward if I’m nervous, or if I really like someone. People often don’t understand my humor, and I find it hard to be open and honest with new people. But I want to force myself to make friends, and hopefully even find a steady boyfriend out there…

Which brings me to my other vision: finally having a place where, if I actually had one, I could bring my boyfriend to spend the night (or whatever else we might want to do) without fear of roommates barging in or (let’s face it) judging me. All in all I just want a place to bring someone home to, to show them without words who I am and what I like. Maybe I’m reading too far into the whole going-out-on-your-own scenario, but this is how I want it to be.

Speaking of how I’d like things to be, one of the biggest draws for me to have my own place is the most frivolous. I want to be able to design/decorate it almost however I want (barring leasing restrictions and the like). The apartment before the one I’m currently in was unfurnished, and as the result of a splitting of roommates midway through our lease, I had to get some furniture of my own, and ended getting what I consider a most unique sofa, in that it is probably from about 1974, is burnt orange velvet-like material, and has one of those beds built into it. I know, I know, an orange couch? But my dear readers you have to believe me when I say that it was a purchase that spoke of my inner funkadelic nature (I suppose), and hearkened to my love of color and unusual design. Plus it was supremely comfortable.

But anyway, back to the point. As I didn’t want to have to buy another sofa, I thought, why not work around the orange couch and do some sort of swanky/funky 60’s thing with bring colors and a really fun atmosphere. I though I would use a lot of different shades of blues and greens (to counterbalance the orange, or course), but still bring in splashes of other colors like yellow and red. I really want my place to be inviting to others, and really show off that, even though I can be a bit standoffish sometimes, I’m really actually a warm and loving person… who likes a lot of color in their life. The design isn’t set in stone yet, and knowing me it will change over the months to suit whatever resources I have, but at least I’m brainstorming.

The only other design area I’ve considered is my bedroom, which I still want to be swanky (if anyone out there can help me solidify that word into a design schema, please help), but also a lot sexier, with darker, richer colors, fabrics with a bit of a sheen or luster to it, and thought-provoking, profound artwork. This is where I’d show my sexier side. The big problem I face here (aside from color choices and how to make it blend somewhat with the rest of the place) is how make a room feel a lot sexier, a little darker, a very dramatic, when I want to avoid painting the walls if at all possible. I like the idea of an accent wall, but how do I downplay stark white walls in my sexy swanky bedroom?

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I just had a pause and realized how different this post is from my previous ones. But this is me, dear readers. One day I think about the existence of god or the nature of the universe, the next I’m worry about furniture choices and getting the right lighting. I guess this all ties into my struggles with formulating a new life and a new me. I want to be more independent, more outgoing, and more successful in the relationship department. I also want to delve into my belief systems, research more about my various passions, and in short figure out more about myself. I think that living on my own is a good way to start this. Without roommates, I won’t have anyone too close at hand to lean on, so I’ll have to find my own ways to socialize and entertain myself. I sincerely fear that I could become hermit, but I’ll try not to let myself do that. The big if part to my future life and lifestyle is the job I’ll have. I have no idea where I’ll be working, what I’ll be doing, who I’ll be working with, or (very nearly most importantly), how much I’ll be making so I can figure out a budget, and a plan of attack for the dating front.

So here goes, world. I’m going to start out now on my own for once. The job hunt begins now (as I’d like to have a new, better, job before May), and I will continue the apartment research. If any of you out there no some good resources for jobs, gay social life, decorating on a budget, or any other things that might help me in my quest, please message me (i.e., leave a comment) so that I may benefit from your knowledge.

Thank to the world out there that may or may not have been reading this, and until next time, adieu.

-Liridon

Update: I just had a talk with one of my roommates, and while previously she was moving out of town for school, she’s now considering staying.  Should I stick to my ultimate desires and live on my own for all the reasons listed above, or should I take the safer and easier, albeit possibly less fulfilling route and room with her possibly one more person?  How do I know what’s best for me?