Blessing or a Curse?

A few months ago I was made aware of the possibility of getting a large sum of money that I owe forgiven. Without going into all the details it all relied on the presence of a medical history and current day condition. What a tortured feeling it was to be offered forgiveness on nearly 85,000 dollars only because you are identified as being disabled. There is conflicted energy in that for me.

From one point of view I am ecstatic at the prospect of 85,000 pounds of weight being lifted from my shoulders. But on the other hand, accepting this generous gift and what some might call a miracle also relies on my acceptance of my health circumstance and history; being labeled permanently disabled. Ugh!

I try so hard to live a normal life but when I look at how my days have been since the onset of the “disability” I am aware of the huge difference in my days. I am aware that while I am grateful to be alive I get frustrated by my exhaustion. I am aware that I love my ability to dream and fantasize but I get saddened when it’s hard for me to understand the world around me. I am open and willing to experience love in my life but fearful of the prospect of rejection because of my limitations. Yes, I am aware that those limitations all spring forth from my own scared and frightened awareness that my life could end suddenly and there are so many things I still want to experience.

So why is it that I have not seized this opportunity for renewed life and accepted a new phase of experience from a differently-abled existence? Why is that I think and ponder, fantasize and agonize to the point of paralyzing myself from getting out into the world and experiencing it all?

I will tell you why. Because I am fearful that it will all be taken away from me again.

The same reason that when contacted about the forgiveness of an enormous amount of debt I kept my mouth shut and barely told a soul. Because I was fearful that if too many people found out about it would somehow be taken away from me and I would once again be burdened with 85,000 pounds of weight on my shoulders.

85,000 pounds, the love of my life, building a home, creating a great career, enjoying my life, celebrating each day, seizing every moment; it may sound corny to some or inspirational to others. But to me, it sounds absolutely horrifying.

I want that to change.

Boarded up, pent up, and locked up with no desire to release from the shackles. Locks, chains and gags tightened with my own grip searing pain through the emotional carcass of life. Handling my struggles and insecurities like a butcher on a rampage; is there no end in sight? For today I remain sequestered by the hideous monster within my thoughts. Crouching and wincing at its horrid perception of the man I have become I await a time that I can hear beyond the voices in my head and see a better vision of myself.

I do? I think...a dream I had last night.

Janet proposed to me and I accepted. It was her big day and I stepped back and let her make all the preparations for the wedding. There was something about the upcoming affair that didn’t seem right to me but I continued to support her. She was beautiful after all I would be a fool to deny her. My only responsibility was to dress myself, get the tuxedo. That was easy enough since my good friend had purchased a tuxedo for me last year for a fundraising event. Everything was working out fine for the wedding which meant I could focus on moving. At this point I had boxed up, wrapped and packaged all my belongings. They were all in storage conveniently located in the basement of the church.

The big day was here and Tony was on my mind. The beautiful blond athlete from high school that Janet held a torch for, well and so did I. I knew he would be there and I was excited to see how our coming together would work out. I mean coming together as Husband, Wife and Husband. Yes, it’s true. Janet had proposed to both of us. We would ALL be consummating the relationship on our wedding night. I could not help but think that poor Janet would be left all alone in the bridal bed of passion that night. But those thoughts were for later. Right now I was running late; I had to find my tux. Ravaging through the storage boxes I was delighted to discover that the shirt, vest and jacket fit perfectly. I looked handsome so far. Oddly, my vest which I remembered to be jet black in color like the rest of my tux was colored pumpkin. It didn’t matter much to me. That would set me apart from Tony, the conservative husband-to-be and was sure to let him know that I would be playing a very special role for him in our new found union.

The time had come and I was being called for the ceremony. Just then I pulled on the tuxedo pants only to find that not only did they fit like a dream but they were made of green faux fur. Hmm, I did not remember my tuxedo being designed by Elton John. I scrambled through my storage closet with desperate attempts to find the matching pants. I was sure that Janet and Tony would rethink this arrangement if I showed up in green faux fur pants, a pumpkin colored vest with my tuxedo jacket. Luckily there was a men’s clothing store attached my storage unit and the manager scurried to fit me into a nice fitted pair of tuxedo pants. The ceremony was held up for a few minutes but Janet and Tony did not seem to mind.

The receiving line at the reception was very odd. I did not recognize anyone in the wedding part and strangely enough, Janet was nowhere to be found. But Tony and I grazed the buffet line together; smiling at another, serving another. I knew this would be a good arrangement when Tony automatically ladled gravy onto my mash potatoes.

Thank you, Tony!

Janet who?

What a day. I woke up this morning feeling half alive. As I wandered to the bathroom my only concern was how quickly I could get back into bed and fall back asleep. Not just another Thursday though. This past weekend I lost my wallet. I still have no idea how it happened but I have resigned to the fact that it is gone and it was time to get a new drivers license. So I ventured out after my long morning in bed. Can you believe I did not leave the house until 11:32AM and I still had not showered? I thought it would not make much a difference seeing that GA department of drivers uses the same photo from the last license. Well I was wrong about that. So now my swollen, puffy “I slept too much” and have been chronically physically miserable the last month face has been immortalized on my drivers license as a constant reminder of how low I have sunk on this Thursday. Of course this is just one Thursday, out of several thousand that I have lived and I am hopeful that next Thursday I will feel and look better and most definitely have a better attitude towards life. At least I hope I do.

But amidst my exhaustion I managed to install my new wall mounted mailbox and neatly labeled it with my name and apt number. I think this is my first mailbox with my name on it. I wonder if that means I am growing up? Nah, probably not. Putting my name on the mailbox reminder me too much like cub scouts. Playing with stickers is hardly an adult actively.

When is it time to let go?

Over 3 weeks ago I met a guy from facebook. Both times we spent time together seemed a little magical. He was cute, courteous, respectful and engaging; conversation was never at a stalemate. He told me all the things I would want a guy to tell me on a first couple dates. He liked me, thought I was funny, cute and he even went as far to tell me he thought I was beautiful!

Beautiful! Now that is a big step in my book. When a gay man tells another man that he thinks he is beautiful that leads me to believe that he seems them for more than just their outer exterior. He is not just objectifying the meat suit; he is taking into account the whole person. Beauty is an adjective used to describe majestic landscape and personalities like Mother Theresa and Martin Luther King. Beautiful in my eyes is an awareness of a persons Spirit and Soul and that leads me to believe there is a higher connection. He called me beautiful. Now there has been one other time that a man called me beautiful and that did not turn out so well but learning from the past and not paralyzing myself from the past has been my focus. So I decided to accept his compliment with a smile and assumed that he was really into getting to know me.

So over the course of the 5 days after our last date I called once, texted him twice and emailed with absolutely no response or even recognition of my efforts to connect with him. Hmmmm, could this wonderful guy that seemed to have his shit together be just a new version of the same old crap I meet masked in a more polished and refined package? Did I somehow I fall prey to another man that gets off and telling me everything I want to hear and really meaning or believing a damn word of it?

Flash forward to a whole 7 days after our date. He spots me on facebook and decides to instant message, apologizing profusely and extending his concern that I might be upset with him for not connecting with me beforehand. Well of course I do not want to let on that I have been internally tortured by his lack of interest seeing that I felt a great connection with him and that he was someone very special that I wanted to get to know. We chatted for a few minutes online relieving him of his guilt for not picking up the phone.

But for me, running into me online and instant messaging me was not the type of effort I was hoping for. Yes it was nice, but if I had not signed on at that moment I might have never heard back from him. And I don’t think the beginnings of a dating situation should rely solely upon online interaction as the main form of getting to know another, Call me crazy but I want more; a phone call, a coffee date, cuddle time, a walk in the park. I want face to face time where we both have to make plans to see another.

So instead of torturing myself of the man that he “could” be in my life I decided to accept him for the man he was; a really great date that I would love to see again but would no longer question his motives and just let it be. I deleted his phone number from my cell to stop myself from calling again since that tactic in the past produced no response and I moved on. I guess he is just not that into me. It happens.

But I did need some closure. So a week ago I sent him one last email. It said…

“I really enjoyed spending time with you and I would like to do it again. If you feel the same way, call me.”

And I left my number in case he lost it! (Preparing for all possibilities of why he never returned my call in the first place)

It felt good to be honest and upfront. I said my peace and I was able to move on. After 3 days I gave up and let it go. Decided it was time to accept the fact that he was not interested and for whatever reason told me he was but in reality was not really. But surprisingly after a full 7days from that email I get an email from him telling me how sorry he is that it took so long to get back to me. He wanted to know what my schedule was next week because he was going out of town and would not be back until then and would like to see me. He promised to call me so we could make plans and hoped I was doing well.

So when is it really time to let go? Maybe my habit of jumping into relationship and opportunities is biting me in the ass right now because this experience has certainly made me think that I am super needy.

I still stick to my guns on the phone call part. I do not think that an instant message is anyway near the same message to someone as taking the time out to dial the phone, hear their voice and spend some quality time talking.

I am not going to let this one guy for awhile, I am learning a lot from his snail pace. I am not going to sit on the sofa and wait for him, but the voodoo doll can still in the closet for now.

A lot has transpired since I took the time out to write. I am not sure where to begin. I have moved to a new apartment this past month and it feels pretty good so far. Do you realize that I have been a shelf dweller for over 15 years of my life? Shelf dwelling is essential apartment living. And not that there is anything wrong with apartment living outside of the occasional nuisance of upstairs or downstairs noise but there is something about being grounded with my feet touching the earth that soothes me.

The last place I lived in was a 4^th floor walk up. Now that was great for my glutes and I have the compliments to prove it. Of course genetics come into play there too. I lived in that complex for nearly 5 years and developed some nice community friendships and relations while I was there. One even had the workings of a great porno with a FedEx driver that lived in the next building. He always delivered right on time for me. But alas that is over and done. The anonymity of a large corporate complex is no longer my experience. My comings and goings are no longer masked by the large parking lot and wide open breezeways with little accountable to each resident.

Today I live in a fabulous in-law suite or ground-level apartment in a beautiful home in Ansley Park. When I pull into the driveway I walk directly into my home with only one step to manage. I walk on the earth now without several layers of shelved concrete, building materials and other people’s energy and lives intermingling with the good nature of my connection to mother earth. There is no fear of falling off the balcony as I no longer have one and the heat from Atlanta sunshine is now masked by majestic trees surrounding the house. This is a good place for me. I realize that I need to start cycling and keeping up with my work outs because I do not want to test my genetics; without all those stairs to climb my glutes might need some extra attention.

I used to be very excited about the prospect of paying bills online. At first thought it seemed to be a very easy option, just click and pay, right?

Well, I have been working at this new technology for several months now and I must admit, it is a pain in the ass! Between the countless different usernames, passwords, log ins, account numbers and security questions, I am finding myself needing a special file to organize my new easy way to pay my bills.

This morning I spent the last 2 hours deciphering two of my accounts NEW and REVISED websites. Ok, just when I thought I got a grip on it they changed everything on me. So I spent some time adjusting to the new look and feel of my auto insurance site but by the time I went to pay my phone bill I felt like I just spent the last 45 minutes in a mundane lecture on the uses of paper clips in modern society. I mean come on, isn't it possible to stream line these networks. Lets all agree that a login ID should be called a USERNAME, and that is can comprise of numbers and letters, whatever works best for the individual. The last thing I want to be told is that my username has to be comprised of a specific number of letters and cannot have any numeric values. What if my favorite USERNAME is composed of the the first name of my favorite fuck buddy plus his dick size (ie josh8.5 or david7thick) But some sites do not permit a combination of letters and numbers and others do. Here in lies my issue. I am forced to creat a few different usernames for different sites and therefore I am needed to create a filing system to organize all these codes and numbers, oops I mean names ( since I can not use numbers).

I think I am just going to stick with writing checks the old fashioned way. I will save my creative usernames and passwords for aol chat.

When did accepting love become so challenging?

Turning 33 and a few my friends are planning a birthday party to celebrate the occasion. Initially, I felt blessed and loved, nurtured and cared about, but over the last few days something strange has occurred. The notion of a group of people coming together to share drinks, some nibbley things, torch some candles on a cake and serenade me is a lil un-nerving.

Whats the big deal, Kevin?

Good question. I think a big part of it comes from my own inability to accept my life as it is. I am going to be 33 years this week and I am grateful for my life and all my accomplishments. I have prevailed leukemia and a brain hemorrhage; that alone is a great accomplishment. But I still feel myself comparing my life by the standards I see in others.

Is comparing my life to others helpful?

HELL! NO! So I am making a consorted effort to release that form of thinking from my thought process. I will celebrate my life with my friends this weekend and accept all the good natured gestures openly. Admittedly this may not be an easy task for me to accomplish but my intention is to accept it with gratitude.

So when did accepting love become so challenging?

Somewhere between feeling love and feeling heart break.

Ok, So I am back. The last time we spoke I was living with one of my best friends in a spare room. Today I write to you from the luxury of my own one bedroom apartment. It is incredible the difference in real estate from New York City.

I reside in a 600 square foot palace!

Washer and dryer inside in my apartment.
Dishwasher
Disposal
Gas Fireplace
Balcony
HUGE Walk in closet! (If I had a closet this size growing up I would have never come out of it!)
Nice sized bathroom
Swimming pool
Fitness Center
and Tons of trees!

These are things that make an apartment a palace! Now the word palace is a term I would have never used for any of the places I lived in NYC. Closets with furniture and utilities! Thats what they were like.

Anyway, the South is treating me well. I have met a lot of great guys and made some wonderful friendships. All in all I feel I made a great decision.

Yikes, It has clearly been way too long for me to post something. I am almost feeling ashamed at the fact that I have neglected my blog for so long. Approaching the end of the year I think it is an amazing parallel for my lack of dedication to certain goals I had for myself this past year. But, another year is just another day in my life and I am not going to judge my past choices but I will learn from them and move forward remembering how this past years choices affected my life.

This week I am spending time with my family in Cleveland, OH and the snow is beautiful. I have to say that Christmas just does not feel like a Holiday with snow on the ground!

Okay, Clearly I lack the focus at this point to maintain a daily post. This is something I will work toward. Many exciting things have occured for me in the last few weeks.

I started work at the Coffee House. It's a fun job. Relatively brainless with a lil anxiety attached to learning the drink formulas and understanding the cash register.

I have re-painted my bedroom.

I bought an armoire from India that I have been retro-fitting to use a my computer workstation. It is very kool and I have enjoyed the manly tasks of working with wood to create a sacred space for my writing.

I made a contact through the coffee house for a creative non-fiction writers group.

I laughed my ass off at American Wedding with my friends.

I am getting ready for a nutritional conference in Portland, OR.

All in all, I like it in the South. I miss my friends in NY but I trust that some relations will transcend geographic distance.

My roomie is once again out of town this past weekend, so I took the opportunity to submerge myself in painting the living room in her adsence. The last project wheed to take the opportunity to do something productive for myself and our household. Part of the plan of me moving in with her was so we could help another organize our lives. One way we discussed my helping her was doing some work around the house. Manly things!

So in the midst of painting Saturday afternoon I receive an unexpected phone call and invitation to lunch from "coffee house man". This is a very welcome break to my day. We met at the coffee house and he drove me to a very cute deli. I was surprised when he bought my lunch but accepted the gift without expectation. We had a great visit.

I look forward to learing more about my new friend with a boyfriend of 5 years.

So today I sit in wonder at how my painting job transformed our once dreary and dismal living space into a sheek gathering space!

A new friend, fresh clean walls and I almost forgot, watching Toby McGuire in Seabiscuit! Life is good.

I am boycotting the BLOG today! My last two entries have been lost in the abyss between post & publish!

I arrived at 12:15 PM for my 12:30PM interview. I think I was most nervous about sitting in the coffee house for the interview and having customers listen in on the conversation. The Manager is great though and we hit it off. I impressed myself with my witty charm and precise answers. The Manager actually thought I studied her manuel before the interview. Having worked in the service industry since I was 14, I guess some good philosphies rubbed off.

Full medical benefits including dental and eye are offered after 90 days of working an average of 20 hours per week. Now how is it that a coffee house is offering benefits to part time staff that exceed some of my friends working in high-salaried postions for international corporations? There is something to be learned from this job. I have my second interview on Monday with the Assistant Manager. She has already become a friend of mine so I doubt that will be a taxing interview.

The Wet Jog

Amidst the rainstorm I still managed to go for my run in the park. I can understand why so many people get into extreme sports. There is something very sexy about mingling salty sweat with fresh rainfall. The combination of fluids running down my torso and back seeping through my shorts down my hairy legs and gently tickling my ankles. The splash of rain beneath my feet with each stride and the delicate moisture carressing my forehead. Wet sneakers, drenched shorts, soaked baseball cap; removing them all and jumping in a hot shower!

Ahhhhhhhh! Now that was nice.

Spent some serious time at the Coffee House today.

Round One!

Earlier in the afternoon with my friend Cleve. As we went to leave I ran into the lil' "coffee house man. (see blog entry July 17) He had stategically sat not only far away from sight but in the corner on the patio. One might think that he was trying to avoid someone. Hmm? Could I be any more paranoid? I did say hello but I wanted to respect his space and kept the conversation to a simple hello and goodbye.

About an hour into running errands with Cleve, my roomie rang to inform us that she was hanging out at the Coffee House and would love some company.

Round Two!

As we entered the store I waved to the little "coffee house man". He looked amused and confused to see me there twice in one day. After sitting with my roomie and Cleve for about 20 minutes, chatting, laughing and sippin coffee both their cell phones rang and I ended up sitting there alone. I was pleasantly surprised by the approach of Derek. Perhaps my friends cell phone habits can serve me well at times. Derek and I began to chat and I invited him to sit with us. Upon my roomie and Cleve's return the four of sat and chatted for quite awhile.

Well that was it. Two Rounds at the Coffee House and I was knocked out by the warmth and cute smile of this guy.

Yes, he has a boyfriend.

Yes, they have been together for 5 years.

Yes, he did take my phone number!

Yes, I think I can transform my infatuation into friendship.

The Interview

Well I finally have an interview set up for the Coffee house. Thursday at 12:30 is the big date. Ugh! Who would have thought that a job in a coffee house would entail so much leg work. Employment history, educational history, professional references, personal references, will you take a drug test?, why did you leave your last job? What do you feel you can offer to the Coffee house community? And I am just looking for part time work!

Anyway, the manager is very friendly and sweet and I do not imagine she will bite too hard. Hmm? In some circles I might enjoy that though. The one great thing I have to look forward to is the hours. Apparently their opening shift is available. That would be starting at 5:30 AM.

Can I do that?

Not much to say today. This move has been pretty non-stop excitement and today feels like the first day I have had to really settle. I finally started getting my mail forwarded after the United States Post Service managed to spell my name incorrectly. They took it upon themselves to return all my mail to the sender instead of thinking that they might have my name mispelled in their system. All is not lost, this is not the first month my bills will not be paid on time. My hope is that this will be the last.

The Courage to accept rejection, or at least not what I wanted to hear.


My roomie and I decided to host a small brunch yesterday. I woke up, went for a jog/fast walk/pant-fast and started my day. It felt good to be alive and by the time we set forth to Whole Foods I was wide awake. The brunch was a great success. I made a egg, mushroom, scallions and cheese casserole and it was yummy! After a cook clean up we went for coffee are our now "regular" hang out Caribou! There were six of us in all and I was enjoying myself immensely. Then on one of my many stops to the bathroom to unload my overly sugared bladder from the Vanilla Coffee Cooler I just inhaled I saw those faintly familiar black rimmed glasses. I had not seen Derek since last week when I drove by Caribou and witnessed him drinking his coffee and studying on the outside deck. He caught my eye and we began chatting.

My internal dialogue was intense.

"Okay, Kevin! Don't screw this up. You have to at least mention that you want to get together with him. You MUST not chicken out! You must SEIZE this moment! Who cares if he says no! Besides, look at how cute his little smile is when he talks. And notice how he looks you straight in the eyes when you talk to him. Isn't it obvious that he is just as attracted to you as you are to him? And think of you first kiss and how romantic it will be. What about when you bring him home to meet your family and how much fun it will be telling the story together just like all the cute couples did in "When Harry Met Sally"

When Derek asked me what I do outside of write I begin to sense my inner dialogue had taken hold of too much of my brain space and stuttered with a response. Ah yes, my infamous inability to explain what it is that I do came crashing down upon me once more. I managed to transition the conversation by telling him that I would enjoy talking more and that we should get together sometime. I told him that I would love to hang out with him. Without hesitation, as if it were rehearsed, he replied...

"I have a boyfriend, so I could not go out on a date with you, but if you wanted to hang out as friends that would be okay."

I know I am not supposed to have expectations especially in dealing with men but in that moment I felt my heart sink. I have not asked someone out in years and the first time that I do it turns out he has a boyfriend. Or does he? Afterall, stating claim to a boyfriend is one of the classic "get lost" lines in the gay culture. Perhaps, I have fallen prey to some form of fib to push me away. Once I got a grip on myself, pulled my heart up from the caverns of my gut I walked with Derek outside and I returned to my friends.

As I sat down a great sense of accomplishment overcame my Spirit. I did it! I actually put myself out there and asked him out. I can do this I thought to myself. Why was I so damn scared. I am still walking, talking and laughing. The moment had passed, Derek has some idea that I am interested in him and I have the pleasure of knowing that I actually took a step toward meeting someone new. Who knows, maybe we will become friends some day too. This was a very good day!

And to top it all off! I scored a great pair of jeans at Old Navy for only $9.99, I had Thai food for dinner and we stopped in a Sex Shop on the way home! I think I see a butt plug in my future.

Glistening vesrsus Perspiring

So it has been a few days since my last entry but developing into a Southern Gentleman is a lot of work. There is protocal down here that I need to learn. For instance, did you know that Southern gentleman do not sweat but they perspire! And a Southern Lady does not sweat but she glistens. Being a Yankee can be daunting faced with the reality of having to change my biology not to mention the uncertainty of not knowing exactly what a gay man does in the South, especially a gay Yankee!

Do I stick to my midwestern heritage and sweat like the men in the steel mills?
Do I glisten like a lady sipping "sweet tea" in the middle of the afternoon?
Do I perspire like a gentleman caller greeting a Southern Bell for a spell on the porch swing?

Then I began to think about being gay. Have I ever really had to conform to any standards set forth by society? Being gay gives all homosexuals the opportunity to forge our own way.

We don't meet for coffee, we trick!
We don't get engaged, we move into together!
We don't get married, we develop open relationships and sleep around on another!
We don't get divorced, we move out and move in with the "other" man!

So what makes me think I should fall prey to the Southern norm and perspire? Why don't I stand proud as a gay man and perhaps chose not to sweat at all? Or maybe I just spend all my days in air conditioning and overt the opportunity altogether.

These are the things that plague my mind since my arrival in the South. It's times like these that I miss the constant threat of being mugged in New York City. I miss the loud subways, and path trains with odors that come from neither a perspiring gentelman or a glistening lady. The smells that migrate from within the bowels of the city from decades of sweaty Yankee's. Ah yes, some of my own sweat lies within those dark tunnels.

I think from now on I chose to perspire with a slight glisten. Afteral, it is my right as a homosexual to forge my own path.