Category: me

Consistent

I’ve finally reached a point at the gym where I feel like my schedule is consistent enough to start pushing for gains again. I’ve managed to shed a chunk of my dad bod. I have even being doing cardio on a regular basis. We all know how much I loooove cardio. The trick is to distract yourself w/movies or Tivo shows on a phone or tablet. Don’t laugh, it works. Anyway, it didn’t make sense to push hard and then not show up for over a week so I stuck with doing steady weights. It didn’t help I somehow managed to aggravate one of my rotater-cuffs. I’ve been stretching it a lot and it seems to be helping. The last thing I need is to go have another surgery.

My biggest struggle in getting to the gym regularly has been my schedule at work. Being on 10-hour shifts makes it hard to hit the gym consistently during the week. Since I work 1100-2100, I either have to get up hella early or hurry and go after work before they close. After work is a struggle because I’m usually eager to get home to see Shawn and Cooper. Believe it or not, my lazy ass has been getting up early and going before work. And I actually do ok most days. I’ve adjusted to making myself get up and it seems to be working.

Considering I’m moving to an admin assignment in late February, I really need to get used to being up early mornings. I got a not so pleasant surprise a few weeks ago. My assignment hours were changed to 0600-1600. Yeah, you read that right, six friggin’ am in the morning! If I didn’t really want this assignment, I’d be like hell naw and stay on my regular job. However, I really do want it for a variety of reasons. I’m still not sure I’ll make it though. That is crazy early. I go in for a two-week refresher in January and I’ll have 2 weeks on the early hours to see how I do. I’m honestly worried I won’t do well. Getting up isn’t the problem; getting to bed at a decent time is a different story. I tend to crash around midnight and previous attempts to get myself to bed earlier hasn’t gone well. Since I’ve been working on getting myself up regularly, I’m hoping I’ll adjust. Only time will tell I guess. Nothing bad happens if I don’t take the assignment. It would just delay the transition of the person who is rotating out until someone else can be trained.

The up side is I’d be able to hit the gym after work and before the afternoon rush starts. The gym is an absolute mess come 5:30 pm every day. I’m sure if you are a 9-5’er you know exactly what I mean. And as much as I loathe the new work hours, it would make it easier to hit the gym consistently. Hope springs eternal…

Runaway

I took a call the other day about a runaway child. For whatever reason, it reminded me of some of my own attempts to leave home as a child. I can’t remember if I’ve ever mentioned it here but I ran away a few times when I was young. Ok, more than a few, 4 times total before finally leaving for good. Are you ready for this? The first time I was around 5 years old! That particular time I wasn’t running away so much as running from my oldest sister’s house to my aunt’s house, where I believed my dad was. It was right before my foster mom passed away. I was feeling particularly lonely considering my dad spent all his time at the hospital. As a child I couldn’t rationalize the fact my mom/dad couldn’t be with me. All I knew is I was left w/my very mean older sister who didn’t seem to like me much and salvation wasn’t far away. Obviously, I made it fine, but it is not the actual story I wanted to share today. hehehe

Fast forward many years, my dad had remarried to my step-mother and things were not good at home. I was still in junior high at the time. If I remember correctly, I think I was in 5th grade. It was 5th or 6th grade, I can’t remember for sure at the moment. The point is I was bored in school so I routinely cut up in class. I was mischievous and hyper active so it shouldn’t have been a real surprise to anyone. And being bored meant poor grades. My dad also had a temper and was prone to fits of rage when he felt he was being challenged. [1]Ironically, I never referred to it as rage but looking back on it, that is pretty much what it was He knew I was smart so he assumed I did it on purpose. I’d previously survived a round of whoopings due to said grades and he told me if I got any more F’s on my report cards, I was in for a doosy of a beating. And trust, I believed him! He’d been particularly thorough in his last attempt to set me straight. I knew if I came home and showed him my report card w/three F’s on it, I was in for a good whooping. The kind that left bruises and made me walk/sit funny for a few days.

Report card day arrives and I get off the bus at the road that leads to our place. [2]We were a mile from the paved road I was alone that day and the fear took over. With no thoughts to how, why, or even where, I ditched my books and fled. I didn’t stay on the paved road as I was afraid my parents would drive by and see me. This was the piney woods of East Texas. There wasn’t much development back then so it was easy to just run through the woods to avoid being seen. I remember making a diagonal line to avoid subdivisions that I knew existed. At this point I’m driven by fear of the coming beating and a little excitement. I loved being outdoors so had little fear of the woods. I knew what the woods held and not much scared me.

I made it about 3 miles the first day. Having realized I didn’t bring anything with me and it was getting chilly, I meandered back toward places I knew where people lived. I spent the first night in the a ceramic storage shed behind the house of one of my school mates. They rode rode the bus to school with me every day. Having been there before with my parents for ceramics, I knew there was plenty of stuff to keep warm so I settled on hiding out there overnight. I covered myself in shredded paper used to stuff boxes. I can still remember giggling at the idea of being a hamster. I got a nice surprise the next day when I found a box of twinkies that made for a lovely breakfast (It is odd how certain moments stick with you over time).

I start out the day knowing I have to head deeper into the woods as I’m approaching more populated areas. It must have been close to winter because I had a lite coat on and it was definitely chilly out. I remember at one point ditching my very tiresome cowboy boots at a rest stop that was along several of the paved roads I had to cross along the way. They were my favorite boots but I was tired and couldn’t bear taking them with me. It helped I had my gym shoes in my school bad. I zigzagged through the woods for most of the day. It wasn’t until I started getting hungry that doubt crept into my mind. I trekked on until it started getting dark again. I’d now been gone more than 24 hours. I started getting cold and hungry. It was then I realized I had no idea where I was going or how I was going to survive on my own. My fear of getting a whooping shifted to fear of my future. I had no idea where I was going. Of course, a kid that young can’t really rationalize properly. I started crying and decided to turn myself in. I remember thinking that to myself. lol

I made a bee-line for the closet rode and by the time it was almost completely dark I made it. I’m only about 10 miles from home by car. Considering how much I zigzagged I probably walked over 15 miles. The first car driving by stopped and picked me up. I was crying and they managed to get it out of me that I ran away and wanted to go home. I pointed out the way and they drove me all the way there. Good lawd was there a ruckus going on! There were 3 game-wardens, a sheriff cruiser, and several other random cars parked by the road side. They had passed out radios to people and a lot of really nice people were looking for me. Apparently, the way I ditched my books turned out to look very suspicious and everyone thought I had been abducted. God what a mess I had created. The lovely folks who picked me up were super sweet. And in the midst of all this fuss, I can remember the very handsome man riding shotgun that let me sit in his lap! Even then I was incorrigible.

My dad arrives in short order and is overwhelmed. Even my stepmother looked relieved to see me. Anyway, I kept my mouth shut as to why I fled; I was afraid my dad would get in trouble. As everyone left and things returned to normal, my dad came back to me and we had a talk. I told him why I ran away thru tears and a death grip on his neck . It was one of the few times I saw my dad look vulnerable. He hugged me, told me he loved me, and told me he never wanted me to scare him like that again. I promised I wouldn’t.

So, in the end I actually didn’t get a beating. lol Even more amusing, my siblings were all amazed I made it so far on my own. I think they saw me as weak and didn’t think I had it in me. Now that I think about it, both my older brothers treated me a little better after that. There was less teasing and being treated like the annoying little brother. My older brother actually left home for good not long after that. I always wondered if he felt I had one-upped him by running away.

*

Wow, that was a lot. I didn’t sit down to write all that out. It just sort of came out the more I thought about it. It amazes me how fearless I was. I don’t think I ever realized how ballsy I was back then. I can also still remember the color of my cowboy boots. Which by the way, we went back for the next day and they were still there! This led to another conversation about how far I made it.

Oh, and the call I took? The kid was fine. He ran away because he was mad at his mom for taking his xbox away. He took MUNI down to the Metreon for the afternoon before being returned home. These youngin’s today. If they only knew. hehehe

References

References
↑1 Ironically, I never referred to it as rage but looking back on it, that is pretty much what it was
↑2 We were a mile from the paved road

Mental

I used to scoff at people who mentioned taking off from work for a mental health day. If you’ve never heard of such an idea, you wouldn’t be alone. The premise is you take a day off from work for mental health. I’ll be honest, I always figured it was just an easy way to get out of work. There are plenty of people out there who think like I used to. And that’s if they even get paid sick time. Sadly, it isn’t always a guarantee.

After almost 15 years in my job, I can tell you there are days when taking a mental health day is a necessity. I have a new found respect for the idea of mental health, especially when it comes to vital services. I deal with an expected level of drama and raw emotions in my line of work. Luckily, I tend to be a very resilient person in that regard. [1]I often consider it an unexpected side effect from my childhood. Courtesy of my step mother and years of mental abuse. However, over time the onslaught of such emotions builds up even on the most resilient person. If you don’t find constructive ways to maintain your own sanity it can lead to severe problems. I’ve seen it in my profession several times and it is a very real thing. I no longer scoff at the idea and have learned to respect the need for a mental health day. I know for myself there are days where I’m just not in a frame of mind to function in a helpful way. It falls under a sick day but from the perspective of mental health. On said days, I know if I go to work I’m going to get fired, or worse, potentially bring harm to others thru neglect or indifference.

I’ve learned the hard way ignoring it does not make the angst/frustration go away. If anything, it gets worse. You can become hyper-sensitive to even minor stresses and become agitated as a norm. You can also become desensitized to traumatic events. You aren’t weak or slacking-off for occasionally needing a day to clear your head and refocus. For myself, I often try to do something fun and relaxing. Believe it or not, blogging always seems to calm me down.

I no longer feel guilty about taking said days off. While I don’t take or need them often, I try to recognize when I do and take advantage of it. My sanity is better for it.

References

References
↑1 I often consider it an unexpected side effect from my childhood. Courtesy of my step mother and years of mental abuse.

Hat

As the great Vita Bohem once said, "I think today is a say something hat day!" hehehe

It’s no secret I’m big on wearing baseball caps. If you see pictures of me, I’m often in a hat. I’ve always worn caps since childhood. I grew up in a rural image

environment and hats were often a necessity over style. When you work in the blazing heat for hours at a time, you quickly learn what a necessity it is. You protect your head and neck from sunburn or suffer miserably.

I never liked wearing cowboy hats as they were large, bulky, and often more hassle than they were worth. Being a very hyper and absent-minded child, large hats were also a recipe for annoyance. I owned a cowboy hat as a kid but rarely wore it. I’m sure some of you are trying to picture it right now. heehee Ironically, when I saw them worn to school they were mostly worn as a fashion statement. At the time that discovery was was kind of a shock to me, but that is a story for another day.

I still wear baseball hats, like a lot. But, there are times where I’ll randomly forget to wear one and it never fails someone comments on it. I had two different guys mention it to me at the gym this week. One guy is a friend of a friend and when I casually said hello to them both, he didn’t recognize me. As we were talking, it dawned on him, and that’s when he brought it up. We both laughed. The other guy was a gym buddy who just wandered over to tell me how different I look w/o a cap. Hats do slightly change one’s appearance but for me I guess it seems to change the whole frame of reference for my face. I’ve had similar episodes like this most of my adult life. I’m never bothered or upset. I actually find it quite funny.

On most days, you can find me wearing a hat. As one person once asked me, no I do not wear it to hide my baldness. I actually like that I am bald and would never wear a hat to hide it. It’s just a habit that never went away and I like wearing them. As a kid, I had a huge head of hair and often had to buy the adjustable baseball caps just so I could cram them over my hair. Now a days I tend to wear the stretch hats. [1]The little plastic strips on the adjustable ones annoy me to no end and often break. They fit easier, don’t break as often, and tend to fit my head better. In colder weather, I tend to wear knit or ski-hats. I don’t like when my ears get cold so they are a go to choice.

Shawn teases me at times because I will sometimes wear baseball caps so they are snug on my head but just sitting slightly past the top of my head. He refers to it as my"old man look" and will routinely pull my hat all the way down. hehe Of course, having had his pretty ginger head burned a few times here in SF, I am slowly dragging him into the hat wearing habit.

So yeah, I wear a lot of hats. I usually have 5-10 different baseball hats and another 3-4 knit hats. So for me, every day is a say something hat day.

References

References
↑1 The little plastic strips on the adjustable ones annoy me to no end and often break.

Thanks

Well, today is the holiday and while I don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving in the traditional sense, I do find time to be thankful for the things in my life. If you had told me 15 years ago, I’d be at this place in my life now, I would have laughed in your face. The idea that I could come so far, as a person, in such a short amount of time would have been unbelievable. But here I am.

I have a lot to be thankful for in my life. And as much as I get wrapped up in the minutia of day to day drama, my life is pretty good at the moment. I’ve finally accepted it is possible for me to be this content and have so few worries. It’s taken a couple years to sink in but I’m getting it. Most days, life is deliciously boring. No drama, no tragedies, no failures, just boring day to day interactions. Gym, dog, work, home, hubby, video games, dog, sleep, repeat.

Like Madam used to say, "It’s been a long climb to the middle." For some being grateful for such a life might seem odd. It is probably a starting point for many. I accept that and good for them. I used to regret my life and how hard it was. Over time I realized the struggles I faced helped make me who I am. The odds were definitely against me getting this far. So many things could have gone different, even slightly, and I wouldn’t have made it. I’ve lost count of the small chance occurrences that kept me sane, well, and even alive.

I have the good fortune to be in a good place in life. I try my best not to take that for granted. I am grateful for good friends, a partner in life who gets me, and a slobbering farting bulldog who lives for me. I crawled out of debt this year. I’m overall pretty healthy. Again, all pretty normal things to be grateful for but reading the news and seeing the tragedy here and abroad, I’m still grateful for it all. I bitch and moan about my first world problems but I keep it in perspective. Wherever you are this year, find joy in the good things in your life, no matter how small. I think happiness is found in those ‘little things.’

I’m working as usual. I’ll be stuffing my face at work with a large feed and keeping the officers and city safe as best I can with my coworkers. If you’re not doing the family thing and feel like you are alone, volunteer for a shelter (Human or animal). You’ll be surprised how less alone and bad you feel about your own life. Whatever you do, find some way to pass on the gratitude you have in your own life to others.

Be safe my friends. I wish you a warm, fuzzy, and "stuffed" holiday.

Two

Well, it now seems that dastardly Cajun, brettcajun has given up on blogging. I saw his last update ending his blog and I was a little teary-eyed honestly. [1]No, Brett not because of you. It seems homer and I are the only two left of our original crew. I miss all of them. I used to spend a huge chunk of my reading every day catching up on personal blogs and getting to know folks thru their writing. It was awesome and made me feel connected to the gay community at large in a way I never thought possible. I’m a bit sad to see a lot of that come to an end. Everything has its purpose I guess.

Granted there are plenty of prolific bloggers out there. But most of the ones left seem focused on trying to make a buck or be famous, neither of which has ever been my goal. I still remember the first blog I ever followed. It was a handsome fella out of Wisconsin. He moved to Chicago after his blog ended and we lost touch after that. I remember feeling a bit foolish reaching out to him at the time. I was worried he’d think I was a stalker. If I’d only known. hehehe

Luckily, homer shows no signs of slowing down. If anything, he is doing better than me at it. I tend to have larger gaps these days. Life gets in the way more now. I’m not sure how long I’ll keep at it, but he itch hasn’t left me yet. I will always have a fondness in my heart for it. My blog and my readership seems to have leveled out over the last few years. I don’t blog near as much about random stuff as I used to. Most of that gets captured on social media. I always see an uptick in readership around the first of the month for some reason. But the averages are pretty even month to month. It does seem like more locals and coworkers read my nonsense more than ever these days.

Ironically, my photo site gets about twice the traffic as my blog. I’m sure there is a joke in there somewhere about a pictures and 1000 words. I originally set it up as a catch all for my online pics. Who knew it would be so popular? It gets consistently solid traffic. I blame Cooper. He is just too cute to miss out on.

I’m still at it though. To all who have gone, you are not forgotten.

References

References
↑1 No, Brett not because of you.

Feet

Every laugh at how a random conversation will trigger completely unrelated memories? I was making small talk at the gym the other day after my workout and somehow we got on the subject of feet. My buddy Tom mentioned something about a guy’s feet. [1]Apparently had a slight fetish He shared how much he hated going on dates with guys that don’t take care of their feet. I’m sure it isn’t an over unique fetish but it triggered all kinds of memories from my childhood.

As a child I hated wearing shoes. I grew up in the piney woods and my only impression of shoes wasn’t a positive one. I felt they were a nuisance. I refused to wear them anywhere except school or hunting. [2]Hunting meant going into areas of unfarmed land full of briar patches, thorns, and all manner of sharp objects step on Naturally, it wasn’t uncommon for the bottom of my feet to be calloused with very thick hard skin. It didn’t matter where I was, if I wasn’t fearful of thorns, I was barefoot. There were no concrete sidewalks for miles and miles and that meant no fear of hot surfaces or burnt feet. I even ran track in high school barefoot. Or, at least I did once my coach noticed I won more races when he let me race w/o shoes.

Of course, as an adult I take decent care of my feet. They stay clean, clipped and overall cared for; gone are the heavy callouses. The soles are now a bit sensitive but I still walk around barefoot on most flat surfaces. I often have to remind myself to wear shoes when running out around the block with Cooper. But that has more to do with not wanting to track debris back onto our new carpet.

Thinking back, it does seem a bit gross but back then I never thought anything of it. I’m sure my buddy Tom would have found me particularly gross. I neglected to share the flood of memories with him. heehee

References

References
↑1 Apparently had a slight fetish
↑2 Hunting meant going into areas of unfarmed land full of briar patches, thorns, and all manner of sharp objects step on

Axiom

I used to have a scrolling marque on my blog that ran thru a list of my favorite quotes and phrases. Some were my own and others were ones I always found inspirational. I randomly discontinued it in my never ending tinkering with my blog themes. One of my favorite phrases is "what you think of me is really none of my business." It has become one of my daily axioms. I mention it because I often say many of said phrases in conversation.

Just such a conversation came up recently. I had chance as part of one of my training assignments to interact with a couple coworkers whom I’m not overly close to. I know them well enough but we just aren’t besties at work. We rarely spend much time talking beyond specific work duties. Anyway, through our conversations one coworker caught me saying my phrase above and really latched onto it. She found it to be very "deep", as she put it, and felt like it was a great mechanism to learn by. This led to more talks and how the struggles in my own life led me to the phrase. We shared several life stories and connected in a way we never had before. It very uplifting.

It is also why I never close myself off from such random chance moments. Beyond being Southern [1]being friendly to strangers is in our blood , I’ve always felt simple human interaction is the key to most of our societal woes. It is much harder to objectify and marginalize someone when you know them personally. You can’t just disassociate yourself from them and act as if it doesn’t affect you. Anyway, I digress. My coworker really liked the phrase and hopefully she applies it in her own life in constructive ways. It came up in such a way regarding one of her own views and I think hearing it really made her feel good.

On a side note, it was also a great reminder of how far I’ve come as a person. I probably harp too much on my personal growth but I’m damn proud of it. I used to be a mess! lolol Back then, I’d never have thought anyone would value my advice or opinions. I didn’t value them so how could others? I’ve discussed here several times how finding my inner confidence [2]the realization was quite the epiphany for me at the time changed me in so many small ways. I forget those changes can and do have ripple effects. They radiate out from me and change forever how I interact with others. These are often subtle cues but it is so profoundly gratifying to still recognize it in myself.

And now, another very popular phrase I’m fond of, "Hope springs eternal….."

References

References
↑1 being friendly to strangers is in our blood
↑2 the realization was quite the epiphany for me at the time

Best

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Sista's

One of my best friends was in town this past weekend for a much needed visit. It has been a while (years actually) since we’ve seen each other and it was great to see him. He got to meet Shawn and they both liked each other. As for the weekend, we didn’t do anything overly exciting. We did a few touristy things but mostly just hung out and caught up on our lives. It’s actually been almost 3 years since we’ve seen each other. We have a mutual third friend who wasn’t able to come but he was with us in spirit. (Plenty of spirits where had, I’m sure he was in one of them!)

Trev and I have always had an easy friendship. By easy I mean we could go years not seeing each other and when we do, it is like we just saw each other yesterday. We sat down, counted it out, and we’ve been friends now for 21 years. Twenty-one years! Friendships like that are hard to come by and I consider it a blessing in my life. In our talks, we looked back across the years of friendship at friends that are now absent. Some have passed on, some left on their own, and a very few we had to step away from, respectively. The latter is a very small number. All that are gone, for whatever reason, are not forgotten. We tried to focus on the good memories and laughed a lot.

We’ve both had big life events in the last couple years, but agreed we shouldn’t let that get in the way next time. We promised each other we wouldn’t go so long this time w/o seeing each other in person. It is a promise I plan to keep. I don’t even think I realized how much I missed him in my daily life.

Twelve

Well, here we are moving into year 12 of this here blog thingy.  Who woulda thunk it all those years ago when I started? Twelve years!

I’ve made many awesome friends along the way and said goodbye to a few as well. As I slowly pulled myself out of my immaturity and into adulthood, I got a chance to share my struggles with others. It was and still is my hope that others can gain insights from my struggles and be better for it.

I’m still at it . I went from answering questions of “What is a blog?“, to “OMG you have a blog too?“, to “You still blog?” and still at it. Hehehe I assumed it would be that way way back when. I kinda took to it right away and instantly expected to be doing it for years.

My favorite responses are often via Facebook when someone tells me they don’t read blogs but proceeds to go on and on about my Facebook post shared from my blog. I get on tickled. [1]It is the little things in life, ain’t it?  Anyway, moving into year 12 I hope to be a little more consistent. It seems life, laziness, and video games routinely interfere. I know, how rude?! 

I was looking back the other day and just sighed heavily with so many emotions. I didn’t think I’d ever find this point in my life. I never dreamed I’d find the contentment in my soul or the level of happiness I’ve achieved. It is still a bit much at times to accept it.

After so many struggles, so many battles, and so much angst, a boring daily life can be such an amazing blessing!  Here is to year 12!

References

References
↑1 It is the little things in life, ain’t it?