With a Side of Statistics!

So I just had my first grad school class (which went really well, but more on that in a moment), and what do I come home to?  A cheerful hello and a “How was your first day?”  Of course not!  I come home to a big sticky note stuck on my bedroom door demanding the rent money.  An empty house and a bill.  How welcoming.

Now, I know that compared to other people, especially those who are fellow poor graduate students, I’m doing well when it comes to living quarters.  I live with my brother and sister-in-law in central Connecticut and only pay $300/month on rent.  I have my own bedroom, and plenty of privacy and alone time during the day.  It’s not the money itself that bothers me, it’s the way it was demanded.

For as long as I can remember I have hated the post-it note as a form of communication for anything other than telling someone about a missed call or a quick grocery list.  The passive-aggressive, wheedling quality of it just seeps under my skin and irritates in ways that few other things do these days.  I was immediately angry when I saw it.  My response was to wad it up and throw it on the floor in front of my door.  Door closed behind me, of course.  Let them see that and maybe they’ll get a hint of how I feel about it.

I had even made plans to go to the bank and get money for them (granted only for this month, and not the last one I missed, but still).  Just that silent act of landlord-y superiority bothers me so much!  I just feel so unwelcome here.  My sister-in-law I feel has nothing but resentment for the space that I take up in her apartment.  She only talks to me when I directly say something to her.  I feel so uncomfortable sitting in the room with them that I usually get up and go to my room almost as soon as they get home.  Granted I realize that they could misconstrue this as some sort of arrogance on my part, or that maybe I dislike them in some way.  But really it’s that uncomfortable feeling I get when I’m in the room.  I feel like they’re judging me and everything I do or buy or say.  Conversations are awkward to say the least, at least from my point of view.

I know, so many problems could be resolved if I just talked to them.  Both of them sitting down with me and taking a few minutes to discuss how we feel about the situation.  But I know in the end that they don’t want me living here.  My brother has already mentioned me finding my own place eventually (not immediately of course, but maybe by the end of the year?), so the door has been opened for my departure.  Believe me, I’d be gone right now if I could afford it.

Ugh.  I just wanted to rant for a little bit.  I could go on for longer if I really wanted to, but then I even start to annoy myself, so I’ll stop now.

As for class, that actually went really well.  My classes are two and a half hours long, and only 25 minutes of it was actual lecturing with note-taking involved.  The rest of the usual intro/syllabus discussion/what to expect stuff you’d normally get.  This Monday class should be my easiest of the four, so that’s at least something to look forward to I guess.  The teacher (the head of the department I should say) seems really nice, and I’m good with math so it should be fairly painless.  Yay! If I can focus on that, my day will have ended well.

Until later,

-Liridon

Today is my first day of class as a graduate student.  Pause for dramatic effect.

I went to orientation last Thursday, and I felt a lot better about starting up.  The professors seemed really nice, my fellow incomers and I got along well, and I even have some possibilities to hang out with some people.  This semester I will try to be a different person than I was before.  I will be more sociable, more studious, and better prepared.  I will keep on top of my reading and try to fit in time to go to the social events offered by the department and fellow students.

Well, that’s what I thought before I looked at my syllabi last night for the first time.  Now I’m worried if I’ll even have enough time to do all the work they want me to do, much less work or make friends.  I’m freaking out just a little bit right now, just an hour and a half before class starts.  Will the professor expect us to know half the material already?  Will she expect to have our reading somehow done, even though the books weren’t available in the bookstore until today, and I didn’t have any money anyway?  We there be pop questions shot around the room, a shot aiming for the weakest of the herd in order to set an example?  Grad school is a whole new world.  So where’s my tour guide?

I know it’s been a while since my last post, but when your life consists of nothing more than sitting around trying not to spend money and waiting for school to start, there’s really not much to report on here.

School starts in nine days.  Until then I am broke and bored.  I have no job, no way to get my books for the semester, and no prospects for the future.  With less than $30 in my bank account, I’m doing all I can to scrimp, including minimizing how much I eat on a daily basis.  Oddly it reminds me of my summer in France, where to save money my friends and I would try to eat as little as possible.  I lost fifteen pounds that month, but ended up being terribly homesick.  That’s sort of how I feel now.

It’s not that I want to go back to Oklahoma, because I don’t.  Not yet at least.  I’m leaving the possibility of a return open, but not right now, not when I’m only a few days away from starting school, and hopefully starting on the road toward some accomplishments that merit an update to the family.  What I want right now is my own place.  Even though I’m in absolutely no place to be able to afford it, I can’t help but feel that if I had someplace to call my own, maybe this state would feel a little more permanent, a little more like a home.  I just don’t feel welcome at my brother and sister-in-law’s.

That sounds harsh.  I know they wouldn’t kick me out, especially if I had no job and no money, but at the same time I feel like our relationship would be better if we didn’t live together.  There’s a lot of stress between us, bubbling under the surface.  My sister-in-law almost never says anything to me unless I say something first.  I mean, I got a call on the house line a few days ago, and she didn’t even call me name.  She just knocked on the door and handed the phone to me wordlessly.  It’s just, every time I come back here, I only feel like I’m coming back to their place, not my place, my home.  If I spend money on something, even a few dollars for some fast food one afternoon, I feel like I have to sneak it in, like they’ll go crazy if they see I’m not saving every penny to pay them back for their generosity, to find my own place…  Before my current most dire situation, when I could still afford a little gas money, I would find myself staying out of the house for hours at a time, just wandering the malls or random stores when my sister-in-law was home.  I’d tell myself it was to stay out of her hair (since she works from home), but really I just feel awkward.

If I’m in the living room watching TV when she comes home during the day, I’m almost guaranteed to leave the room and shut myself up in my room withing a few minutes.  I feel like her eyes are poring into me as she enters, judging me for being so lazy, so inconsiderate.  Like she sees me and only thinks, “There he is, watching television again.  Why doesn’t he ever do anything useful?”  As for my brother, I just see disappointment in his eyes, like he’s a little ashamed of me being such a bum brother.  He’s annoyed that I can’t pay rent this month (though why I’m paying rent in the first place is a whole other gripe session — I certainly wouldn’t charge him rent in my place).  He’s already chided me (lightly, granted) about spending all my time on the phone and on the computer.  It’s true though.  I spend most of my time on the phone with my boyfriend (who is also jobless and about to start school soon), because at least he doesn’t judge me for my situation.

I know, I know, you’re all thinking, “Well why don’t you just go out there and get a job?  Pound the pavement and keep looking until something comes up?  Get out there everyday and make those employers pay attention to you?”  But it’s not that easy.  I can’t go for a regular full time job because my classes are 4:00 pm – 6:30 pm Monday through Thursday.  Most part-time jobs have varying schedules, and they want you to be very flexible with your schedules, and I can’t do that.  I really need something structured, with a fairly set schedule every week.  But aside from those excuses (and yes, I realize they are rather flimsy), is that disquieting voice in the back of my head that screams of the futility of it all.  I feel like I have no marketable skills to offer most companies, since I have no experience away from food service and a few months substitute teaching.  When it comes to finding a job I feel so devoid of hope that it seems impossible.  I’m afraid I’m slipping quickly into a depression out of which I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull myself.

My few consolations, my few bright spots are my boyfriend and school.  I’m scared shitless of school, but excited at the same time.  I’ve never taken any graduate level classes, and I know almost nothing about public administration, but that’s what I’m getting into so we’ll see how it goes.  I’m looking forward to meeting my fellow classmates, having something to do everyday (even if it is just homework), and testing my abilities a bit.  I’m of course looking forward to the job possibilities afterward, since the earning potential is quite nice for the degree, but that alone won’t sustain me until graduation in two years.  Really I’m just hoping that these classes will excite me in someway, will confirm this choice of mine in an area so far removed from my bachelor’s degree that inside I’m afraid I’ll be behind everyone else right from the start.  But I guess I’ll find out in ten days how things might go.  Ah, imagine the possibilities of that first week of class…

As for my boyfriend…  There are times that I wonder how long we’ll last, not because I don’t think he loves me anything, but because it’s sometimes hard for me to imagine marrying him, settling down with him and having kids.  He’s not at all what I pictured in a husband.  But at the same time he’s incredibly sweet to me, and very supportive of my education even though he has no idea what it is I’m planning on doing with my degree.  It sounds terribly conceited, too, but I love the way I look in his eyes.  He makes me feel so…  beautiful, funny, smart, nice… worthy.  He makes me feel worthy.  Of what I’m not quite sure, but I guess I’ll find out.

Thanks for listening, whoever you are out there.

-Liridon

So let’s see…  I moved away from Oklahoma and came to my new home on December 21, 2008.  For about a week after I got here, my parents were here for the holidays.  After that is when it really started to feel like it was for real.

I spent my first few weeks sleeping in the living room of my brother’s apartment, on their futon/couch.  I spent some time being a bit of slut, but I don’t think I went too far.  After getting used to the daily wake-up from their very large dog’s nose in my face, we finally made a trip to Ikea, where I came out with a bed and dresser in a nice medium-tone wood.  For $600 I think I should have gotten more bang for my buck, but it’s functional and pleasing to the eye, so I’m pretty happy with it.  Besides, my wonderful deep teal sheets are just awesome.

But anyway, on to more important things than modern Swedish furniture.  Eventually, I tried searching for a job, but given that I’ve never had to look for one, I was kind of lost with the whole process.  My sister-in-law had mentioned getting me a place at in insurance company where she used to work, but that didn’t really work out.  After much fruitless searching, I finally got a job as a substitute teacher of all things.

Now, I went into this job thinking I was going to be some glorified baby sitter, but I actually had a *lot* of fun.  I had some really great kids in my classes (and a couple of absolute monsters, but I try not to focus on them), and all the other teachers and secretaries and such were so nice.  There are eight elementary schools here, so I only had a few repeats, but still it was just so much fun.  I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much in a classroom as I did with some of those kids, they were just so bright-eyed and so amazingly independent-thinking.  Ack, I could go on forever about how much fun it was…

That all started in mid-March, nearly three months after I moved up here.  Around the same time as I was starting my journey into the educational field, I actually met someone, too (surprise surprise!).  It happened in the weirdest of circumstances, too.  It was a Friday, and I had a date with someone I’d met online (as that is pretty much the only place I meet people).  We went out to a nice Italian place, had a good dinner and conversation, then went our separate ways.  I’m pretty sure he knew early on that I was not was he was looking for, and I picked up on the hints pretty well.

So I came home much sooner than I was hoping for, especially given that I had driven about half an hour to get to the restaurant and had just spent money on a dinner out when I didn’t yet have a job.  But I went about my evening as normal, then head to bed around midnight.  Well, an hour later I couldn’t sleep because I just wasn’t tired (and I was a little horny), so I got online and surfed this site to which I’m a member that is dedicated to gay men like me (i.e.-chubby guys).  I looked at the list of people who’ve viewed my profile, and came across a guy who was decently cute, though a little chubbier than I like, but he was online at the time so I decided to message him.  We ended up talking online for the next eight hours.  I went to bed just after 9 am.

To put things simply, we haven’t stopped talking since then.  I mean, last month alone I spent 11,000 minutes on the phone with him according to my wireless provider.  He lives in New Jersey about three hours from me, and we go back and forth on who goes where each month.  The only problem with us is that I just feel sometimes that we have nothing in common with each other.  I was originally attracted to him because of his somewhat crazy personality – his wild sense of humor, his terribly original way with words, and I hate to say it, but his almost insane devotion to me.  I like the fact that he’s so head over heels for me, but at the same time it scares me.  I know we’ve only been together for a few months (five months coming up mid-August), but still I can’t picture myself staying with him forever.  He’s mentioned marriage or kids before (in jest I hope), but I just can’t see myself settling down with him.  Our personalities, our sensabilities are just too different.  But at the same time I really cherish his friendship and can’t imagine not knowing him.

Now it’s August, and I’m sad to say more story seems to have ended in April roughly.  Everything just kept rolling along the same until school ended in late June, when I became jobless once again.  Since then I honestly only gave a half-hearted effort at looking for another job, thinking I could just go back to subbing while I’m in school.  Of course, now I have almost no money and three weeks until my loan money comes in for school, so I’m regretting my decision a bit, but I’ll survive.

On a final positive note, about two weeks ago my sister-in-law sent me a text suggesting I get in contact with someone at a staffing agency.  I got in contact, and in the last two weeks have had three one-day temp jobs.  A guy in the office is trying really hard to get me a job (wait for it!) the same insurance company at which I planned on finding employment when I first moved up here.  So I guess things might be going full circle.  What with that and the fact that I’ll be going to my first grad school class in 30 days (yikes!), I feel like things are finally starting up in my life here.  And it only took seven months.

It’s Liridon again, back after *waaaayyy* too long away.  Since my last post I’ve moved out of state and halfway across the country to live with my brother and his wife.  It hasn’t turned out like I thought it would, but I’ll elaborate on that later.  I’ve been here since right before Christmas 2008, and now that it is officially August 2009 (and I’m 30 days from starting grad school – yikes!) for some reason I thought it would be a good time to start this up again.

As it’s getting rather late right now (it is after 1 am after all), I think I’ll keep it short for now and do a real post tomorrow.  I have this urge to pour out my thoughts that have been accumulating over the past… year (oops), but I don’t think I can do it right now. It’s been a rather exhaustive day.

For now, just remember this: He that would have the fruit must climb the tree.

Words to live by, at least for me.

-Liridon

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

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?

I’ve spent a lot of time looking at mirrors. Not into them, but at them. Mirrors — most commonly sheets of glass backed by unbelievably thin, highly polished sheets of aluminum or silver– are everywhere. There are more than nine just in my apartment, and many more than that in the building in which I work.

Why are there so many mirrors everywhere? Why is the specular reflection of visible light so appealing to everyone? Is it possible that we as humans are so completely mesmerized by ourselves (and yet so frighteningly shaky in our belief in our own actuality) that we need constant reminders of our appearance? And does that lead to a validation of our external existence, the part that is visible to all others? Maybe it’s true that mirrors really do reflect a part of one’s soul, and that deep down we all recognize this primordial relation we have with reflections.

Or is our society so appearance-oriented that we need constant self-surveillance in order to check for imperfections and keep up our vigilant guard against the realities that constitute our ‘natural’ visages? Superstition used to say that mirrors deflect evil and attract good. Hung in the right place, they can even bring the owner wealth and food. Maybe we kept those beliefs around, hidden deep within our collective subconscious, and our outward obsession with appearance is really a reflection of our inner apprehension with the idea of being broke and hungry. Society after all does demand a good, if not flawless, countenance and carriage in order to succeed…

We use mirrors to trick the eye into thinking a room is larger than it really is, and to reflect light back and forth to make a space seem brighter. In essence, mirrors are beguilers that ultimately have the ability to show us how things really are. A quality ‘looking glass’ can paint a perfect representation of reality on its surface, one that no photographer or painter could ever hope to equal because that reality is fluid, ever-changing. Placed in the right spot, a mirror can show one a surprising new perspective on the world around them. It’s as if the mirror really is a portal, not for souls, but simply into another dimension of sorts, a world opposite and yet someone the same or better than our own.

I often find myself wondering what that other world would be like. Is the me I see inside that world exactly like the me that I perceive myself to be here, or is he somehow better or worse? Is my reflection in the mirror me in that world, the physical embodiment of my soul or my character, or am I incarnated in a totally different fleshly expression there? Does that me in the mirror have higher self-esteem or more/better abilities than I do, or does he feel as lost as I do sometimes? Is he more driven and confident, or is he perhaps a weaker form of me, one dependent on others’ approval and observance. Most importantly, if this other me actually did exist, would he be as cognizant of my existence as I am of his?

This is what I meditate on the most, the idea of another cognizant me that may or may not be better than the me that I perceive in myself. The idea that another me is sitting there guessing about my existence is honestly a little weird or creepy to me. I guess the real question is why? Why do I occupy my time wondering if another me in my head is better than me somehow? The confusion I feel in my life right now, the uncertainty of my future place in the world (metaphorically and literally), all lead me to wonder if the me inside the mirror has a better life.

In the end though, I don’t think he does. I’d like to think that the me inside this alternate reality is completely dependent on me, as he only seems to exist in direct relation to a mirror and my presence near one. But who knows? Maybe he exists even when I don’t see him, and I’m the one that’s a reflection of him. I guess I’ll never know…

On a side note, this idea of him being a reflection of me or vise versa leads me to a consideration of God as a reflection of man. In everyday religion, the existence of God seems to be dependent on his reflection in man, that is, his presence is only marked and noted when man decides he’s there. For example, something good happens, like a woman being cured of an illness, and the church says God is to thank. But something bad happens, like a car bombing or something, and the church condemns the ‘evil’ people who did it or blames the devil. Where was God then? And if he is so powerful, wouldn’t he help stop some of the atrocities going on, some divine spiritual intervention of sorts? I understand that we need hardship and difficulties in order to appreciate the good things in life, but why pick and choose when God is there or not? For that matter, if God understands that adversity makes up appreciate the good times, isn’t it possible that he — if he does in fact exist and take part in our everyday lives — causes these bad things to happen on purpose, thus negating the need for a devil in the first place? Old religions saw good and evil as one in everything, including their gods. Couldn’t God be the same way?

If mirrors reflect our souls, or at the very least offer us a truthful imitation of our reality, then God is like a giant mirror for humanity. His greatness seems to be an echo of the human race’s belief in its own superiority. And his apparent lack of compassion (his ‘wrath’ some would say) also mimics our own sometimes brutish nature.

-Liridon

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

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