Trying to Keep it Realigion

Growing up, I believed in a higher being without question... one who could always see what I was doing... good and bad... and that led me to do the right thing, using a reward and punishment system.  He was the one that I looked up to the sky and prayed to on occasion for something that I needed... one that brought me great joy, especially around the birth of the Son... and although I've never actually seen proof of his being, I know he was real.  It was written and there are pictures, so therefore it must be.  Besides, when I prayed for that Easy Bake Oven, there it was under the tree on Christmas morning.  Yes... Santa (you assumed I was referring to God?) was, indeed, real.  And then I grew up.  I found out how my letter to Santa was infiltrated by my parents, who then went to K-mart to fill the list... I found out who ate the cookies I put out for Santa and how the carrots I put out for Rudolph ended up in the back yard feeding the plain-old, regular, not so 'rein' deer.  And, lastly, I learned how a bad little shit like me who didn't get coal in his stocking once... not once, was calling the shots.  The gig was up and my parents lost a lot of leverage the year I stopped believing in Santa.  In my eyes, the parallels between Santa and God are uncanny.  And no matter how much I read the Bible or how many different denominational churches I attended over time, the idea of God isn't one that I can accept.  Yes, Virginia... I am an atheist.

I have always been a free-thinker, grounded in science and logic.  I remember when I was younger, asking questions about religion that no one seemed to have the answers.  In such a big book where it's all spelled out, it doesn't say much that I can wrap my head around as an explanation.  I bought several Bibles, spoke to several people who, supposedly, were experts and, yet, my questions were never answered, at least in a way not followed by 'because, that's what it says... don't ask questions".  Add to it that most religious people act anything but holy (hypocrites) and the whole 'say-5-Hail-Mary's-and-you're-forgiven' procedure that seems to undermine doing the right thing to begin with, and logic goes out the window along with the baby Jesus and the bathwater.  I suppose that's why I have no 'Faith', because I can't just let go and believe when it makes no sense... and, let's face it... it's all about blind trust when you are talking about God (or Santa, for that matter).  It's better to believe when you are younger, before you know any better.  It's no wonder why I'm a non-believer.

Atheism is defined as the rejection of belief in the existence of deities, or gods.  From there, it get's more confusing.  Apparently there are all kinds of classifications and stipulations.  It's not as simple as you believe or don't... for example, since babies and children neither believe or disbelieve (since they cannot reject something they are unaware of and cannot consciously reject), they are called implicit atheists... while those who make a conscious effort to disbelieve are explicit atheists.  Further, it is broken down to negative (belief in other forms of a higher, non-theological power, such as spiritual, supernatural or transcendental (Agnosticism, Hinduism, Buddhism and Taoism)) and positive (no higher power whatsoever).  I am a positive explicit atheist.  Atheism, in it's simplest definition, is the absence, indifference, exclusion and unawareness of/from any religious motivation. And this is where it gets dicey for me... that bit about active exclusion from the problems of Gods and religion from intellectual pursuit and practical action... this shit both fascinates me and angers me.  There's no ignoring it.  I can't help but be involved.  But I am more fascinated by the people who believe than the content of religion itself.  I've never seen anything that is so vastly interpreted.

In true Gemini fashion, I have several views on religion that contradict each other.  On one hand, I have no belief in any of it and despise everything to do with organized religion, especially their charitable tax exclusion, pedophilia, cafeteria-style beliefs system and how religion is usually behind war.  On the other hand, I highly respect someone who follows the Bible to the letter (or at least the teachings of Jesus).  I have respect for those who have their beliefs.  I capitalize "God" and "The Word"... and I don't participate in Christmas so as not to be hypocritical.  I take my hat off in a church and I wouldn't litter on church grounds.  I believe in the teachings of Jesus and I think he'd be a great guy to be friends with.  I support people to believe what they want to believe, no matter in what they worship, as long as they don't push their agenda on me or hurt anyone.  I don't feel I am any better or any worse than anyone else.  I am happy with my rationale and I'm not afraid to not believe.  Unless Jesus walks into Starbucks and orders a venti half-caff crème brulee latte in front of me, I don't think my non-believing is ever going to change.  I will be cremated and my ashes returned to the earth, from which they came.  Actually, if there is something that I worship, it is this earth and it's delicate balance.  I will live my life on this planet to the fullest, knowing that my life... past, present, future and beyond... ends when I do.  I'm ok with that.

Rachet Isn't Tight Any More

Like a poly-cotton sock that wears thin, so has the use of the word RACHET. I'm introducing a new word and have included several examples of the use of the word...

 

"She is so jigsaw, cause no one puts baby in a corner"
"That bitch is jigsaw, cause she's missing a few key pieces of the puzzle"
"Don't make me go jigsaw on you and cut you like a serrated blade"
"Her outfit is jigsaw cause there's too many curves and the pieces don't fit"
"His wiener is jigsaw cause it takes too long to complete and I lose interest"
"Her stories are so jigsaw because you never what the fuck until she's all done"
"That bitch is jigsaw cause she only makes sense on the outside of the package"
"Their timed sex is so jigsaw because there's only one way it comes together"
"Her remarks are so jigsaw because they're steely and cut right through you"

 

Following Procedure with a Cereal Drama

As a child of the 90's 70's, I'm not ashamed to admit that I watch way too much TV.  We were sat down when our homework was done as soon as we got home from school in front of the giant 35" color console 12" black-and-white screen with 276 5 channels (depending on the weather and how you stood on your head or moved around the room blocking the signal) to watch educational programming Ultra-Man... and my Mom would provide us with a delicious and nutritious dinner Hungry Jack TV dinner that she prepared herself popped in the oven for twenty minutes.  My favorite was the steak tartar pork and beans one because not only did you get little wieners in beans, but it also came with two desserts... baked apples and a triangular chocolate "cake".  Nothing was good good enough for us as far as my Mom was concerned, and she made it her mission to make sure that we had enough protein and vitamins sugar in us to make it long enough through getting our homework done, but not long enough to have us hyper while she was watching her progrums later that evening.  We used to watch Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, Falcon Crest and The Carol Burnett Show, which was my Mom's favorite.  I swear, I thought she was going to piss her pants bust a gut laughing.  She would knit smoke Pall Mall's all evening while my Dad oiled our baseball mitts snored in his electric easy chair and my brother and I sat quietly helping each other with our homework and discussing our day at school pulled each other's hair and kicked each other upside the head.  Yes, we were the model 70's family... a page right out of a Norman Bates journal Rockwell picture book.

I always fancied the procedural drama where the show takes place in court of law or in a crime scene.  It makes me feel smartical when I could figure out 'who dunnit' before it was revealed.  Perhaps the most watched in the history of TV was who shot J.R. in the long-running, critically-acclaimed and recently-revamped Dallas.  I always wanted to be a Ewing... mostly Pam because she had that zippy Mercedes and got to sleep with Bobby.  I could faintly smell the aroma of oil on me as I religiously watched and pretended to be the long-lost cousin or something in a 7 episode arc. 

Nowadays, I'm a sucker for the dramas and I tape them all.  The Good Wife and Revenge are my favorites.  Long-gone are the days of setting up the VCR, making sure that you don't tape over another progrum you haven't seen yet... and God forbid the plastic tabs were poked out or you didn't have the TV turned on the right channel or the VCR set to channel 3 or 4... you might not have gotten to see the show, forever lost without OnDemand.  My DVR is filled so much every night with shows that my watching overflows into the next morning with a good bowl of cereal with my hair still up in curlers.  It feels like I'm home when I'm watching my progrums, checking in with my family and friends.  Often times I feel much better about my life when there's so much drama going on in my TV family's lives but, as a child with a huge imagination and longing to travel and see the world, it lets me live a little, if only for 42 minutes or so... and at least now I am much more aware of what you can make out of a paper clip and some baking soda to save the world... the importance of a good shoulder pad in a dress... and to watch out for the maid... because it's always the maid that's the killer every time... anyone who's seen Jessica Fletcher in action knows that.

Rainy Days and Mondays

While I realize it was a complete drag for Karen Carpenter, dealing with rainy days and Mondays has always been the complete opposite for me, if not respite.  In the eyes of my friends and family, they think I spend my days lying about in a sunny field, shoes kicked off, perhaps sipping a cool refreshment while perusing a romantic paperback book and occasionally picking a dandelion or two, ruminating about my days as a small boy in the suburbs. On the contrary, in my business as a landscaper, the seasons all provide different challenges and it's a lot of work.  In the spring, my schedule is heavy on the front end and laborious, dealing with cleaning up after winter, spreading 100+ yards of mulch and planting 700 flowers, all while working around the rain and while maintaining the cutting of grass, especially if it's an early growth season like the one we just had.  The summer is hard dealing with weeds, which seems to be the only things that grow, and enduring the humidity and sun beating down on you all day long, burning you to a crisp isn't fun, despite my Mediterranical olive skin-tone, luscious as it is.  Fall, of course, is all about keeping up with the leaves, relentlessly falling and blowing around, making progress a fool's errand.  No sooner do I get them all to one side of the parking lot when a gust comes and blows them right back.  Winter is the only season when I get a break from labor, but it's also the hardest because I'm usually not working and being alone in my head for long periods of time without a focus isn't good.  Besides that, there are the holidays to get through and everything is dead and it's cold outside.  I try to take a trip in winter, but I usually go by myself, since everyone else is working.

Monday's the day that I have to be at the hotel since it's the day that the platinum members check in for the week and, heaven forbid, if the place doesn't look like Utopia, the world will end and they'll bitch about it until they get a free drink in the lounge.  I like Mondays though because it starts my week off and gives me a purpose.  While one may think owning your own business is pure pleasure, it can be difficult, especially staying motivated and on-track.  It may seem like I have complete control over my schedule, but that's not entirely so.  There are so many things that pull me in different directions... I may plan to work on a certain area of the hotel and it turns out that there's another contractor doing something there and I have to regroup... or the weather may not cooperate... or something can't be delivered or I can't get the help to show up... or, and this is the biggie... my family requires something (see previous paragraph where I obviously must be just laying about in a field and, therefore, have all the time in the world) and I don't get to work at all.

If it's a sunny day and I don't end up doing work, I wind up feeling so guilty that whatever I'm doing is ruined and I can't enjoy myself, not that I feel like being out in the heat after working in it all the time anyway.  As a result, I have a new bike and new kayak that never get used, and summer is just a waste of a season for me, recreationally.  Rainy days... now that's what it's all about.  Waking up and seeing the rain is the best kind of day for me because it's a total free-pass.  No getting up early... no rushing around...no working... no one wondering where I am... and, best of all, no guilt.  I love to hear the rain hitting the window and the fresh smell in the air... all the dirt being washed away and nature getting a drink.

Landscaping is physically strenuous, mentally tormenting and, with everyone wanting everything for free these days, it can be not very lucrative as well.  It's for these reasons that I am looking to sell my equipment and get back into business management.  At times, I feel like I've been hiding out from my previous 20+ years of success in accounting and management.  As a Controller/Operations Manager, I was under constant stress as well, but you felt like you were getting things accomplished and making progress and contributing.  I suppose I contribute to nature, I just need more at this point in my life.  I need a purpose and a challenge. So, instead of me pulling roots as a business, I'm pulling myself back to my roots... in business.

Two Sides of Being Lonely

I've always been a loner.  I, most times, prefer it.  I think this comes from doing so much for others that I long for a time where I can get a break from the constant tugging of my time and attention.  As a little kid, I would spend a lot of time in my room with the door shut and, to this day, I do the same thing.  Even with my Dad living with me and not really seeing much of him (me in my room and him utilizing the rest of the house), I absolutely love when I get home and he's out.  There's nothing more that I do when he isn't home, it's just knowing that no one is going to bother me.  As I become older, I seek out activities of solitude... kayaking in the middle of a lake... vacations in the middle of the desert... car rides in the middle of nowhere... all things that I like to do that removes me from others, if not isolates me.  With a natural instinct to run away, it's become my chosen way of coping.  I suppose, to a degree, I don't know how to say 'no', so removing myself from those situations proves to be a good way to protect myself from, well... me.

Perhaps a fate worse than being alone (by yourself), though, is being with someone that you're not meant to be with and feeling lonelier still.  Having stuff in common with someone isn't the same as having a connection, and you can't force it, it has to happen naturally, and staying in a situation like this is a disservice to them, as well as yourself.  That loneliness and emptiness that you're going it alone while someone is sitting right beside you... when you reach out for them and they are right there, but you are paralyzed and you can't open up.  I have become this person;  one who can't allow someone to be there for me, afraid that they won't be there when I need them or that they'll disappoint me, which seems to happen every time.  As a result, no bond is made and I close myself off in every way.  The relationship feels like I'm just going through the motions... as if we're cut-outs of a couple... and it all looks great on paper but at the end of the day, they are folded up and put back in the drawer... one dimensional and flat.  I push the person away and lock myself back in my room and withdraw, protecting myself, when the person I need to be protecting myself from is, perhaps, myself.  Being aware of patterns are a starting point, I suppose.

My plight, possibly too late to change, is both comforting and disturbing, realizing that this may be my future.  As I get older, this becomes more and more normal to me, which is even more disturbing that I'm ok with it, especially always having been a relationship person.  I am ok being with myself and by myself... and, for now, I choose to be alone.

What's My Line?

Everybody knows what a line is... a mark or stroke long in proportion to its breadth, made with a pen, pencil, tool, etc... but other definitions include a continuous extent of length or a number of persons standing one behind the other and waiting their turns at or for something or to take a position in a line, i.e. line up.  Other meanings refer to your bloodline or lineage (where you came from) and possibly the 'line' of work that you are in.  In the 60's, there was a TV show called "What's My Line?" where guest stars would ask questions of a guest as to what it was that they did for a living.  It was funny to see the people and figure out what they chose to do with their lives, career-wise, sometimes being way out of character of what you'd expect at first glance.

There's little room on your tombstone to etch everything you were about as a person... what your likes and dislikes were... what you've accomplished in life... who you've left behind... what your trade was... or what you believed in, to name a few.  You may get a fancy quote or a funny quip, but your whole life is represented by one character in between the date that you were born and the day you passed... a line.  Everything from your first breath to your last is signified in that tiny mark... unlike the giant mark that you, hopefully, made on the world while you were alive.   If you go back to the actual definitions, they coincide with that of a life;  a mark (you making your mark on the world) long in proportion/a continuous extent of length (your life span) waiting their turns at or for something (your life process or, if religious, your afterlife).  The question becomes... what will you do with your line?

We'd all like to think that we did some good with our time on earth and made some contribution to our fellow man.  I think mine would be the things that I've built and those that I've loved.  It brings me great pleasure to plant a tree knowing that it will be there for many years to come, providing shelter or shade and beauty... and it's roots securing and protecting the earth from being eroded away.  I've had the opportunity to see some of those trees bloom into strong, towering structures some 40 years later and the decks that I've built still providing a center for the families that enjoy them.  And I'd like to think that I've touched the lives of those near and dear to me.  The help to my family... the comfort to my massage clients... the direction to my employees in my management roles... the protection and guidance to my friends... and the love shown in my relationships.  And although it may be a source of frustration and, sometimes, angst... giving to those in my life has been what I feel my purpose has been.  I define myself not by what I have, but what I have accomplished by helping others.  That's what makes a man.

I may not have gotten done all the things that I set out to do in my life, and there may or may not be time to do those things... but I feel that my 'line' is pretty full of things that make me proud of who I am.  I hope that my life never flat-lines... and that I constantly challenge myself and strive for more.  Life is a gift...and there's no time like the present.

(Inspiration for this post was from the recent Glee tribute episode for Cory Montieth)

Good Will Hunting

“Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.”   Martin Luther King Jr.

Ring-ring, clang-clang... it's that time of year again when everyone's looking for a donation or a handout.  There are so many charities out there, how do you begin to pick and choose who gets your hard-earned money?  I guess most people pick something that's near-and-dear to them... maybe you choose the American Cancer Society because you had a relative die of cancer... or maybe the ASPCA if you have a dog or cat.  Whatever the cause, nowadays you have to take it a step further and examine the organization for wrong-doing or for a litany of beliefs or ideals in their mission statement that don't align with yours or of humanity in general.  Charity is supposed to help the needy, but often times it goes to help the greedy.  You may donate $50.00... but what's the true cost?

Recently, information has surfaced alleging that televangelist Pat Robertson of the 700 Club funneled charitable funds from his Operation Blessing Outreach (a charitable foundation in Zaire, Africa) into his private holdings in African Development Co which, for the most part, mines diamonds and is chartered in Bermuda.  His ties with the Zaire dictator (Mobutu Sese Seko, who is linked to bankrupting the country by draining $6 billion in assets) are under question, including receiving vast forestry and mining concessions for his diamond business.  The purchase of several planes that were outfitted with Operation Blessing Outreach signage, but only a handful of flights were ever used for humanitarian efforts, with the rest on missions for his mines.  After a thorough investigation of the matters, the findings were sealed by Virginia State Attorney General Mark Earley and Virginia Governor Jim Gilmore, who, coincidentally, received large campaign contributions from Robertson and his associates.  Tax breaks for religious affiliations, tax evasion, use of the dictators planes, boats and vacation homes, bribing and embezzlement are only some of the accusations he is facing.

Other more recognizable organizations like Goodwill and the Salvation Army have been embroiled in controversy as well.  Goodwill is under scrutiny for what it pays it's disabled workers (some reportedly as low as 22 cents an hour), which is much less than the minimum wage, obviously.  The Special Wage Certificate Program, designed to promote businesses to hire the disabled, allows for separate pay scales based on abilities with no minimum.  One CEO makes about $430k, with total CEO compensation across the country at $30 million.  In one of it's mission statements, it boasts “to eliminate barriers to opportunity and help people in need reach their full potential through learning and the power of work".  Making 22 cents an hour isn't a barrier to opportunity?

The Salvation Army has never hid it's Christian beliefs and have been quite open about their stance on homosexuality and gay marriage.  Everything from not hiring or firing gays... to refusing services to known homosexuals have emerged throughout the years.  Most recently, Salvation Army went on record, stating that LGBTQ parents should be put to death as the bible instructs.  Several chapters of their handbook cites Romans 1:18-32, which includes an admonition that homosexuals “deserved to die".  Their public relations representative released a statement saying that they are working towards a relationship with the LGBTQ community and they will offer help to anyone, but actions speak louder than words.

Actions speak louder than words.

“I care not for a man's religion whose dog and cat are not the better for it.” Abraham Lincoln

A True Patriot

Patriotism is defined as 'love or devotion to one's country'.  Nowhere in that definition is the word 'superiority', so why is it then that most people's actions are more towards rising to the top... or getting all they can... or beating someone else down to get what they want?  Having an arsenal of guns to overthrow the government makes you a patriot?  Flying a confederate flag makes you American?  Um, no...it makes you treasonous and hypocritical.  The very notion of a paranoid disillusion of getting to a point of having to overthrow our government suggests that you'd have no belief in the Constitution, Bill of Rights, principles and laws this country is built upon to begin with.  Perhaps it is that person who is the true enemy.  The acts on humanity in the fight for power or in the name of one religion over another is disgusting, and though, it happened and it's still happening every day... it's all part of our history.  It's nothing to be proud of.

Working together for a common goal... taking care of each and every one of us... helping each other out... pulling resources... standing up for equality for all... and standing strong on the principles that this country was built upon... that's what being a patriot is all about.  Being a working, law-abiding, voting citizen... that's an American patriot.  "All men are created equal" and "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses" are a few of the examples of how we should be living as Americans... every day.  It shouldn't take a tragedy to bring us together.

Putting a ribbon on the antenna or a magnet on the back end of the car or a picture of 9/11 as your Facebook profile picture doesn't make you a patriot.  If you want to be a patriot, I suggest you start with the verbs in the definition... Love and Devotion.

Walked Upon: An Original Poem

What's this poem all about? Hint: it's not about flooring...

All The Better To See You With, My Dear

If the definition of progressive is 'moving forward towards progress', then why do I feel I just took a huge step backwards by picking up my new 'progressive' bifocals?  Seriously, at 46... I'm reduced to these?  I ate my carrots, I didn't sit too close to the TV and my Mom always said you'd go blind if you masturbate too much so.... ohhhhh, ok... um, that explains it then.  True story.  Anyway, I guess it beats holding things about a foot from my face to see it.  It gives me a better perspective, and it's always good to see things more clearly and not have to try to figure out what you're really looking at.

It seems that as you get older and you lose your physical eyesight, you actually see with more clarity.  What was important to you when you were younger is put into perspective with some experience and time, and you start to have a different opinion of your priorities.  You see the world in a different way and perhaps have less tolerance for things that you may not have noticed in the past.  As your vision blurs, you are able to see solutions to your problems that you might not have before... and you get x-ray vision... you can now see right through people... no one can pull the wool over your eyes... and the wolf in sheep's clothing isn't an effective disguise any more.  Although your eyes are closer to being closed than opened when you squint, you can finally see things in focus.  And while your eyeglass prescription gets thicker, your patience wears thinner.  And when your sense of sight goes, you rely on your other senses to guide you, and you trust your gut and use your intuition.  You are nobody's fool, even though your coke-bottle glasses appear to make you look like one.

This past year has been a real eye-opener for me.  I've had several long-term (30 + year) friendships end as well as some not-so-long and some relationships because I finally stopped looking through rose-colored glasses and walked away from people and situations that were either too much drama, were people I couldn't trust any more or I finally saw people for what they were when I took a good look and stopped making excuses for them.  Like prior to getting my bifocals, when I held these friendships back and looked at a distance, I was able to see these relationships in full view... with a new clarity to see that most of them just took from me and didn't give anything.  They were disrespectful, but not as much as how I disrespected myself for putting up with it for so long, thinking that I didn't deserve better.  And while I am no easy person to deal with, I put the effort into my friendships, but seldom do I get the same in return.  I am thankful for those that I am close with that give as much as they take, who accept me exactly for who I am and don't try to change me in the least and that value our connection and don't take it for granted.  Those are the most enjoyable and mean the most.  I would rather be alone than be surrounded by selfish people who only care about themselves... because there is nothing more lonely than that... not even total blindness.

Angel's Landing, Zion National Park

I came across this video today of the place I hiked up to in Zion last year....  Doesn't even scratch the surface of how amazing this place is... and how incredible the hike is.

Being Put Through The Meat GRINDr

Picture it... It's 1994 at 5:10 p.m. on a Friday night and you suddenly realize that you have nothing to wear to go out tonight... at least something that someone hadn't seen you in already.  A trip to the mall is in order because, lets face it, when you are out to see and be seen, what you are wearing is pivotal, since it defines, at first glance, what you are about and who you are.  You could be shot down instantly for not having the right name brand designer on your back or using the wrong opening line, and within a few minutes of walking through the front door of the bar (which might as well be a fashion show runway), your fate would be set for the evening... or at least until about quarter 'til two when the pickin's get slim and standards are dropped ever so slightly (with a loud thud) right before the lights go up and stark reality shines down like a spotlight.  If you have no confidence, quarter til two wasn't anywhere you should be.  It was brutal and there was no hiding.  A black, blousy shirt became your best friend if you did have anything to hide.  My friends and I would joke... 'what do you think of that guy?', one would ask... 'he's an 11:45', denoting that he'd be someone that you'd want to meet earlier than before the night was over.  Harsh.  We're so hard on each other.

Nowadays, with dating and the phone apps, you can literally make everything up, including your stats, your profile, your age, your occupation and your pictures and sit at home in your pajamas and let the magic unfold from your couch while watching a Meredith Baxter Birney drama (one of the 13 where she portrays a jilted, scorned wife and shoots them or cuts their balls off).  And because very few people ever plan to actually meet up, you can be whomever you want to be since no one is really going to see you... and you don't need a fresh outfit... no need to brush your teeth or run a comb through your hair... yes, you are settled in to a night of Lifetime and a low battery, and the only real action your lap is going to see tonight is from your dog/cat who can't keep still, searching for that comfortable spot.  Mr. Mittens is the only pussy you're going to see tonight.

With the gay apps, you create your profile and just sit back and wait for the shit-storm of judgment and criticism to come down on you like a jungle rain shower.  The nice thing is that it all happens behind the scenes... you don't actually know why someone hasn't responded since you don't actually get to or have to interact with them.  You don't know what part of your profile they didn't like which only adds to insecurity.  And you get no opportunity to find out either.  I'm not sure which is worse... getting instant feedback/rejection face-to-face or that wondering that you have to do when someone doesn't even have the courtesy to respond, at all.  Imagine walking up to someone and saying "Hi, you're handsome... nice meeting you" and having the other person stand there and not respond or acknowledge you in the least bit.  This is what happens all the time on the apps.  Not only has the birth of this form of media bred the worst social interacting malfunction in history, but it also breeds rudeness beyond belief.  I've never read the statement that you agree to when you install the app, but it must say something about setting yourself up for anguish, ridicule and general ignorance.

I find that the majority of people on the apps are of the 18-27 or 46-? range.  I think it's because kids are out of high school/college and have nothing better to do and need constant attention and interaction.  They never want to meet because they always are looking for the next 'best' thing, which comes by every 19 seconds.  They will never be happy or satisfied because they are incapable of getting below the superficial.  And the older ones are on there because they are set in their jobs and their life has become routine and they have more time.  They are also fighting the effects of gravity and getting older, so they are more likely to hide behind an app and probably not meet because they are afraid to be rejected and found out.  Very rarely do you see a thirty-something on the apps... maybe they are busy with their careers in full-swing or they are in a relationship already, I don't know.  If they are, it's usually because they are in an open relationship and they are looking for sex. 

At some point, with all the ways to connect nowadays, we have lost the ability to really connect with each other on any level other than sexual... and the meaningless kind at that.  No emotional exchange... no sympathy, empathy or compassion.  No touch... nothing beyond the surface.  All of it is vapid and shallow.  People talk about wanting a relationship but have no idea what that means or what it entails.  With their parent's broken marriage as the blueprint, they have no idea what love looks like and giving up and walking away seems to be what you are supposed to do.  And fending for themselves because both parents are at work makes them completely void of caring about anyone else's needs but their own.  All take and no give.  This is the norm.

In the sea of love, if you wade in the shallow, all you'll see are tadpoles and bottom-feeders... everything beautiful is below the surface.  You have to dive in and get wet to get to where the magic happens. 

Full of Shinola

My Mom was good for her odd sayings... for someone whose outfit didn't match, she'd say they looked like a 'Russian Christmas on a Wednesday night'... To differentiate time, if something was fast it was 'quicker than shit through a sick goose'.  And if someone didn't know what they were talking about, she'd say they 'didn't know shit from Shinola'.  Shinola, apparently, was a brand of wax shoe polish available in the early to mid-20th century.  It was a dark, sticky, semisolid substance with a faint resemblance to human feces.  Implied, is that shit and Shinola, while superficially similar, are quite different in value when applied to shoes or carelessly stepped in. 

At the risk of sounding like some moral-high-road Conservative, it still shocks me when I see people's behavior these days.  I've written about it over and over again because I just can't wrap my head around how people's moral fabric has deteriorated.  I'm no angel, I'll give you that, but we were always taught to respect each other, but respect yourself as well, if not more.  It's disturbing to see how people act, especially regarding sexual encounters and their bodies.  I'm not sure when things changed, or maybe they never did, but it seems like no one has any respect or dignity or self-worth these days.  The infidelity and lying comes so naturally that it's just accepted as commonplace.  There's no respect, remorse, regret, responsibility or apology and certainly no self-control.  For guys, especially gay, the idea of monogamy has long-since been debunked with the explanation being simply that "it's not natural... we are guys... it's what guys do".  And while I am constantly debating monogamy in my own head as to which way works (because I really haven't seen too many examples of it working in a relationship with or without), I'm not ready to give up, and surely not in the beginning of a relationship 10 minutes into it because someone else whips their wiener out.  And when you throw in diseases brought back to the other or collateral damage, like innocent kids that may be affected, the respect, remorse, regret and responsibility are completely gone from the equation.

I am proud to say that I have never cheated on anyone.  I'm not judging anyone... it's just not for me.  I know that it has been going on forever in time but I, personally, feel that the internet had a great deal to do with the demise of the 'relationship'.  24/7 access to a hook up through the apps makes it impossible to find anyone that is serious about a relationship and even if they say they are, usually they are full of shit regardless.  It's hard not to become jaded... you can see them a mile away... and no matter how much Shinola you apply... 'you can't polish a turd'... yet another one of my Mom's sayings.

My Life As a Dog

Not having roots in religion, I've written in the past about my beliefs, which are fairly insubstantial.  I believe there probably was a pretty cool dude named Jesus that would have been someone I would have liked to have hung out with and had some hummus and chatted with about shit, but of all the things though to have really strong feelings about, I have always believed in reincarnation.  We are all dealt different hands in life... some very lucky and some not so much.  I could never understand why life was so unfair for some, and always felt that the life that we are cognitively living currently is one of many that we have to live (or have already lived) before we can get to where we are supposed to end up.  So maybe one life you are very wealthy and one poor... one maybe good looking and one not... one you are riddled with health problems...  one as a minority... and so on.  To me, it made sense that to be a better well-rounded person and someone who was truly worthy, you would need to understand other people's plights and walk in their shoes.  When I was little, I wanted to come back as a dog, because it seems like almost everyone loves dogs and you get to lay about the house doing nothing... maybe the occasional ball lick and an ass sniff... it's all good.  All I know is my current reincarnation must be getting me ready to be a Saint, because the shit I'm dealing with in this go-round from my family better earn me some friggin' wings and a set of mugs.

A friend of mine recently turned me on to an 'unauthorized parody' called Dog Sees God:  Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead.  The play imagines characters from the popular comic strip The Peanuts as teenagers. Drug use, suicide, eating disorders, teen violence and bullying, rebellion, sexual relations and identity are among the issues covered in this drama.  When CB's (based loosely on Charlie Brown (names have been changed)) dog dies from rabies after biting a yellow bird, CB goes to his friend Van (Linus) and asks him where we go when we die.  A self-professed Buddhist, Van tells him that either your spirit dissolves or you become reincarnated.  Another friend tells him that we return to the womb, although it may not be that of your mothers.  And while the story unfolds and CB tries to make sense of it, as well as other things that are happening (like his gay love for his friend, Beethoven), the message in the end is comforting to CB in that some of his friends may be looking after each other in the afterlife.

If it sounds intriguing, you're in luck... The Martinsburg High School is performing it... Here's the production info:

When: September 6 and 7 at 7:30 pm     September 8 at 2 pm

Where: Martinsburg High School   701 S. Queen Street Martinsburg, WV 25401

Cost: Adults $9    Students $7     Festival seating with tickets sold at the door

They will be hosting speakers from the following organizations with a percentage of the profits going to that organization:

Fri--Fairness WV
Sat--National Office of the HRC
Sun-- New Light Metropolitan Church

Strangers in the Night

I had slipped into something a little more 'comfortable, turning out the lights having only a few candles lit around my bedroom and I poured myself some merlot.  The humidity was thick as the warm breeze blew through the open window, curtains blowing as if to draw me in to the heat of the night, begging me to lie there naked and exposed.  I heard a sound as he slowly entered the room and surrounded me.  Softly, he spoke, saying all the things I wanted to hear with his melodic tone... music to my ears after all the others.  His whispers penetrated me, going deep into my soul... transporting me to another time and place... right to my core... raw.  The images in my mind and smells that were conjured overtook me.  I was helpless, under his control, as I unbuttoned my blouse.  Teasing me.  Playing me.  Giving me chills.  Making me want him.  Suddenly, I fell prey to the beautiful song he was singing to me and I called out his name... "Barry... you do write the songs that make the young girls cry", as I, myself, slowly wept... clutching my pillow, wishing it was him.  If only I could meet Mr. Manilow.  He touched me every day, if not physically, then through his music and I loved him so and he, me, and only me (despite this Mandy girl that he so often sang about).

Music has the incredible ability to invoke so many feelings, emotions, memories and reactions from us.  It can make us remember a certain instance or memorable occasion or person... even down to a certain smell.  It can make us laugh and make us cry with only a few notes.  When I hear Stuck On You, I still remember my high school girlfriend and laying in the park on a blanket in the warm summer's sun.  When I hear Sing, I think of my Mom and me singing in the house while we cleaned and a faint smell of Lemon Pledge is conjured.   Eye of the Tiger transports me to Myrtle Beach in 1983 carrying my boom-box down the beach, even recalling what I was wearing. 

I grew up with Big Band music from my parents.  I've always had a love of music, particularly the piano and I took lessons when I was younger and sang in the choir in high school.  I developed a love of classical music early on through a series of tapes called Hooked on Classics, where they took the classical pieces from great composers and added a beat to them, somewhat modernizing them.  From my Italian heritage, I have also liked foreign music, especially Italian and French.  Some of Marlene Dietrich's or Edith Piaf's songs take me back to my trip to Paris, leisurely walking about Montmartre, browsing the many artists painting on their easels with pastry in-hand.  Lounge music from the late 50's and early 60's has always been a favorite of mine as well, with it's bongos and odd instruments, you almost want to light a cigarette and sip a martini.  And I wouldn't be gay if I didn't love a show tune or 300, and the passion behind opera is amazing in that you don't have to understand a word of it to be able to feel the angst.  Even some of the country classics take me back to a time when I used to go to gay two-stepping where I met a lot of my really good friends. 

I'm glad I have a diverse love of music.  In dating some of the twenty-somethings, I think it is the difference in music that is the hardest for me.  Songs that invoke angst or moodiness are my favorite, always being able to pull more feeling out of pain than happiness in a song.  Lady GaGa does nothing for me except wonder where she got the bacon on her dress and why I'm suddenly hungry... to call some of these current singers 'artists' is a joke.  Nowadays, anyone can be famous and it doesn't take talent and the music award shows couldn't be a better reflection.  With auto-tune and various other electronic alterations, almost anyone can sing... well, maybe not Taylor Swift.  Oh well, I'm sure our parents said the same about us... or you, maybe... since I was listening to their music at 14, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

None of My Business

I've always been a 'company man' at heart... not the Don Draper sort of drinking and smoking your lunch, but the kind of man that did whatever it took to succeed, putting work in front of everything else.  I was taught the American dream... work hard and you'll succeed.  From the time I was teenager carrying a briefcase around to school, I knew I always wanted to be in business.  I started as a paperboy with my own route, making $30 a month and wondering how I would ever spend that kind of money.  Then I went into the food industry, managing a restaurant in high school in my late teens, moving on to retail management with Blockbuster Video in it's heyday.  I started as an Assistant Manager and quickly was promoted to the biggest store in the company, which was previously an old supermarket.  Within 6 months of having the highest sales numbers, I was made the District Training Manager while continuing to run my store, training all of my management peers.  I was 22 at the time.  From there, I went into office management, taking over a high-end interior design business in downtown Philadelphia and their showroom. From there, I was an Accounting and Operations Manager for a wholesale manufacturer, which eventually led to my job as Controller of a steel company, HRIS Analyst for SAP, and then Controller and Operations Manager for another manufacturing company before I got out of business altogether.  At that point, I was 33 and I had never attended college.

My mother used to always bitch at me for job-hopping, but I honestly couldn't see myself in any one particular position for any length of time.  My Dad worked in the moving business for 15 years before settling into a job on the railroad for 40 years... both back-breaking jobs, but it was different back then.  In the 80's and early 90's, it was different then as well.  It was an employee's market... I could quit a job at 10 a.m. and have another by noon, and I gained my experience and knowledge doing just that, climbing the corporate ladder, making sure that I gained pieces of business in each move, gaining a better title and more money each time.  When you don't have a college degree, title and salary become the gauge of your success and self-worth.  I had to work harder than anyone else to prove myself not only for not being educated, but for being young as well, most times walking into a management situation where I took the promotion of an older, already-established person in the company.  I've always had the philosophy of lead by example so when I rolled my sleeves up and jumped right into the trenches, I quickly gained respect.  I worked long hours and did what I had to do for the good of the company.  I've moved 38 times in my life... some for relationships but most for jobs.  I didn't know any better.  My blood pressure was through the roof and I had no life beyond my workplace.  This was living?

At the height of my business career in the position that I excelled at the most, my job was given to a friend of the family that I was working for, and I was left scrambling for position at a time where I was making too much money for someone without a college degree and one was now required to pump gas, practically, in the new business climate.  It was an employer's market now and competition was fierce.  I was disqualified most times right-off-the-bat because I didn't have an education.  The days of recognizing someone for their experience was replaced by the minimum requirement of an education and how cheaply they could hire someone.  The idea of a company man went out the window as employers didn't give two shits about their employees.  I had to reinvent myself, so I did.  Having always had an interest in physical therapy (something completely different), the market was saturated with an influx of people in the field, so I chose massage therapy and enrolled in school.  Six months later, before I even graduated, I opened a day spa and hired an esthetician and did that for a few years.  It was a total mind-fuck for me to go from title and power to the service industry and my self-worth took a tumble.  While my esthetician sat and did nothing all day long instead of drumming up business like she was supposed to, my business grew so fast that I was working 8+ hours a day, 6 days a week booked solid.  I was essentially working my ass off to have her sit on hers, so I closed up and did it out of my house for a while.  It was very rewarding to be able to physically help someone with their pain and stress, but it didn't help mine in the least bit, developing back and wrist issues as well as depression from the stress of keeping it all going and being in a dark room all day long sucking up other people's bad energy and being around those in constant pain.

I went through a several-year period of depression and odd jobs and a move to Vegas to start fresh that ruined me financially and led me to almost take my life when it didn't work out.  I moved back and did some massage and bartending while having a near breakdown that reduced me to a child-like, basic mentality of survival.  My daily goal was just telling myself that all I needed to do was get up, shower, go to work and come home, and that's exactly what I did for a long while.  I became paranoid as the recession hit, hiding all my money under my bed in a box, eventually accumulating $19k... in a shoe box... under my bed.  I was doing massage on the weekends walking out with $1,000 a weekend, plus bartending and I took a side job with my friend who had a landscaping business.  I really enjoyed being outdoors and it gave me time to clear my head.  I was working so much that I had little time for anything else.  I wasn't right in the head, but blogging and hard work got me out of the worst depression I had ever been through.  When an opportunity to take over the landscaping contract at the Marriott came up and my friend that I was working for didn't want to bid on it, I did and got it and I've had it ever since, which led to expanding into my own landscaping and deck business.  The other day, the General Manager of the Marriott left for another position, and as I watched him pull away from the parking lot on his last day, I couldn't help remembering how that was... to look in your rear-view mirror back at the place where you worked your ass off and gave so much.  Now gone, it will be hard for me to be there without him, since he was not only my friend, but also the only person there who really cared about the hard work that I put in and the attention to detail in my work ethic.  I suddenly feel a lack of purpose there that I will have to overcome.  The effort that I put forth is mostly for myself, setting standards that I can live with, but it is nice to have someone appreciate your work as well.  It also makes it worth while.  I will have to prove myself once more to the new guy.  It angers me when I see today's twenty-something's come out of college and expect to have a job handed to you, making $50k out of the gate after sending out a resume or two.  That degree doesn't get you anything except getting in the door... the rest has to be worked for and proven.  Always proving yourself.  Always.

Sure, there are days that I miss the business world, but when I look at my friends who work in cubicles for the 'man', giving their life and breath for their work, most times getting nothing out of it but high blood pressure and misery, I am thankful that my life turned out the way it did.  It took me a long time to come to the realization and acceptance of who I am and what I do for a living... I pull weeds and cut grass... I am my own boss, I take only the jobs that I want to, I run my schedule for the most part and I am finally happy. 

Recently doing work at the house I grew up in, there's a long-needle pine tree that looked like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree when I planted it.  It now towers about 70 feet high.  I am surrounded by beauty and nature in my job and when I plant a twig and see it grow into a tree, I know that I have made my mark on this earth, in my own board room, on my own terms.

Because George Michael Tells Me So

I've always been a highly logical person rooted deeply in science and needing physical proof of things or have it be right in front of my face to have belief.  'The proof is in the pudding' and 'actions speak louder than words' are mantras that I tend to live by because there's a tangible result.  In school, I was never any good at algebra and always good at geometry since the shapes and theories were easily proven visually.  Witchcraft, the paranormal, superstition and (dare I lump these all together), religion... are all things that I can't wrap my head around.

Faith is described in the dictionary as "confidence or trust in a person or thing or another's ability"... going further by saying "belief that is not based on proof".   The Bible defines faith as “being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see”, which doesn't surprise me since faith is the cornerstone of the basis for religion and the Bible is chock-full of things that can't be explained by evidence. 

Being gay, it's difficult to separate how the Church acts and what they say.  There isn't a better example of hypocrisy and the actions speak louder proverb couldn't be more proven by religion.  "God is Love", "Love Thy Neighbor", "We are all God's Children"... are all things regurgitated but seldom followed, especially in regards to gays.  So it's no wonder that the majority of gays are Athiests, myself included.  After all, how can I believe in something that, supposedly, condemns me to the bowels of Hell when it was, supposedly, that something that created me, and in it's image?  This becomes a real struggle for those who believe and a battle that can't be won, resulting in constant angst and, in cases, taking one's life.

In my rationalization, I have to believe that if there is a higher power and they created me, then they know what they're doing (faith in another's ability).  And while I don't follow the scriptures and the teachings of the Bible, I was taught what was right and wrong, and I try to live my life accordingly.  I answer to myself and I do what I do because it's the right thing to do, whether what's respectable, kind, considerate, moral, or what's law.  I don't look for praise for my deeds.  I don't do it for promise of reward or threat of punishment as religion dictates.  It's most times thankless and not the easiest path to take, but I do it to hold myself accountable.  In this regard, I often feel that I am more 'Christian' than Christians are.  My further belief is that, if there is a higher power, on my judgment day, how I lived my life and treated others would be valued as much as anyone who 'believes'... and who I loved (as if it's a sin) wouldn't take precedent over how I loved.

In the horror movies, our limits of belief are pushed more and more.  What seems totally ridiculous plays out in front of us in HD IMAX stereophonic realness, opening the door ever so slightly for doubt.  And while I may say I'm not superstitious, I can't say that I wouldn't turn down another street to avoid a black cat that crossed my path, or if I break a mirror that I'm not looking over my shoulder... or if I spill salt, I don't throw a bit over my shoulder, just in case.  And maybe there is a boogeyman under my bed (feel free to look for me, I don't even let my foot dangle over the bed out of the covers)... and maybe there are times when I feel an evil spell is cast upon me by the local witch, I guess I 'gotta have faith' that it's not true to continue on with my day, much like those religious have their belief system.  Perhaps I'm more of faith than I care to admit, so I'll keep being a good person, just in case.  Besides, the humidity we're having is already way more than I can handle, much less the pits of Hell... and it wreaks havoc on my skin and height of my hair.  What does the Bible say about vanity?

Through Rose-Colored Glasses

I catch myself sounding like my parents more often than I care to admit.  "When we were young..." seems to be the Once upon a time lead-in to a lot of my stories.  I used to cringe when my parents felt the need to share one of their heartache stories.  I guess at that age you don't want to hear about hardship or how life was different or better.  From snot-nosed kids who think they know it all, being told differently doesn't go over so well.  Which leads me to my next most-used saying I got from my parents:  If I knew now what I knew then.

I used to look at all my parent's pictures that were in black-and-white when they were growing up and it was hard for me to imagine life in color back then.  I guess some of it had to do with the dirt roads, dirty industry and the depression... and also with film, photograph and television being in black-and-white, but I can't see it in any other hue.  There are several apps now that you can take your photos and apply a 70's, sepia tone to them to make them look older.  When I see the 70's when I was growing up, in my mind, as with B&W era, it's how I picture my childhood growing up.  I don't remember the actual crisp colors, I only remember it through the pictures with soft, filtered, muted colors.  Today, with everything enhanced in HD, details are amazing and right in your face, if not so abrupt in stark reality.

In the 20's, 30's, 40's and 50's, things were pretty much 'black-and-white', right down to the conduct of blacks and whites.  There were strict rules of ethics, laws, regions, unions, religion, ethnicity and etiquette in social behavior. You knew what the rules were and you followed them without question.  You weren't encouraged to think outside the box but, rather, to conform.  You didn't worry about what the neighbors were doing and you kept your mouth shut and lived a rather simple, quiet existence. Your life was pretty much centered around your family and it's survival, convened once daily around the dining room table at 6 p.m. followed by a radio show... with music being light and non-offensive... all without leaving your small part of the world.  This was living. 

When the 60's, 70's and 80's came around, people started to think more about themselves and expressing their thoughts.  Advancements in communication and technology opened up your sphere of influence and the walls came down.  Equal rights for blacks, free love and women's lib bust the doors wide open for blurring the lines of social and political influence in an age of blurred color in photos and film.  Music started having political messages and pleas for peace and tranquility.  Dads started traveling out of town for work and the TV dinner replaced the nightly meeting at the dining room table as you were summoned by the dinner bell in the back yard or your mom yelling out the back door.  As a child at that time, so much happened that I was oblivious to, including the Vietnam War and several other controversial events.  I was attached to my Mom's leg in my protective, muted, soft, filtered world, just as the pictures portrayed.  We were plopped down in our living room in front of our huge 20" color console TV;  our window to the world.  Close, but far enough away.  Involved, but at a safe distance.  This was living.

Today, the internet has opened our lives up to practically the universe. You can see what's happening around the world in real-time in places that you never knew existed.  You can take vivid, color, HD pictures from your phone and half dozen other sources.  Detail is down to the freckle and anything is viewable from gore to porn 24/7.  If you're not pushing the limits of the law, economics, social norm, etiquette, opportunity, politics and geographic location, you simply are not living.  The stark reality of the age we live in is all around us and is captured in millions of megapixels and posted on every social media available for all to see.  News is around the clock and we're so bored with entertainment that we have had to go to a reality-based world of the bizarre and unexpected.  Music is graphic and explicit.  You're in everyone's business and everyone is in your face, including apps that give a blow-by-blow of your day and every move you make. Everyone wants their 5 minutes of fame.  Your job has you traveling around the world as well as your spouse's and the kids are left to fend for themselves, explaining the lack of social manners and ability to interact. Dinner is a free-for-all, rarely ever all sitting down at the same time.  This is living.

I remember my Dad telling me about him hitting a can down the alley with a stick for fun.  For us, we left the house at 8 a.m. and usually didn't come back until dark, playing in the woods and riding our bikes, etc.  At Christmas, I would spend more time playing with the box that things came in, making something out of it, rather than the actual present.  Nowadays, kids need everything to be interactive and they need to be entertained continuously.  Imagination, a thing of the past, has been replaced by minutely-detailed, graphic reality. They grow up so fast and are exposed to so much so early.  Their childhood is stripped from them early in their teens, a time where I was still playing with my Matchbox cars and Barbie G.I. Joe.  And most have had sex by the same time.

I would imagine this next generation will look down on the current one as we did on our parents, and so on.  technology will have advanced at a rate that will make today's know-it-alls as ancient as we now are, much less our parents. In closing, the phrase 'don't be in such a hurry to grow up'.   I wouldn't mind seeing life a little more blurred right about now. THAT... was really living.