Category: me

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It is amazing the difference one small act of kindness can make in your day. A point of view of a particular supervisor really made my day today.

I took off the early hours of work for a chiro appt. I found out this morning I wasn’t gonna make it because I got word the doc was out of the office unexpectedly. Change in plans, now I’m gearing up to head in to work for one of the 2 hours I had scheduled to miss. Then I get a call from the doc’s office, he came back earlier than planned and if I arrive soon, he can seem me. Great, but now I’m behind schedule. Said schedule which I allotted 2 hours away from work to avoid getting behind on.

I skip heading back home and straight to work. I arrive to work with a few minutes to spare; however, I’ve not had food or drink yet. Forgetting what a lack of caffeine will do to me, I woof down one of my prepped meals and I’m 2 minutes late to my station. One supervisor walking by commented rather snidely about me missing line-up. [1]If I called in the first 2 hours, yes I’m aware I missed it. No concern for my well-being or how I’m feeling, just the snide comment. I brushed it off w/o saying anything as I was late after all.

Another supervisor who witnessed this comes over and immediately asks not only how am I feeling but is there anything she can do to make my morning a little easier. I was so touched by her point of view and approach that my frustration and anger evaporated. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do but the compassion was an act in itself, and in an instant I was back to normal again. I thanked her profusely and let her know how much such small kind words meant to me.

It’s the little things we do that have a big impact on those around us. I normally consider myself immune to such things as I am pretty self-contained. I rarely need justification or validation for my good/bad behaviors. But while I accepted that I was late thru my own fault, it did not help my mood to have someone comment on it rather snidely. The act of kindness made me forget my woes and put me back in a proper frame of reference.

There is no real point other than the obvious one. I just felt like sharing.

References

References
↑1 If I called in the first 2 hours, yes I’m aware I missed it.

45

Guess who’s year older today? Me!  lol  Forty five years old and still going strong.

Funny, in a lot of ways I don’t feel 45. I’ve always felt young for my age so that really isn’t a surprise. I thought I would have grown into it by now though. haha  In other ways, I definitely feel 45. After my last rant about my back, I’m clearly not as spry as a I used to be. My body, against my best wishes, is starting to show its age. The grey that used to be just in my hair has taken over my beard and is encroaching on my chest. Is it normal for grey hairs to travel down the torso as one ages? I always thought it started at the bottom and worked its way up? My wrinkles are a little deeper and a little larger in number. Anyway, I don’t mind my age. I certainly don’t resent it. I know a lot of gay men start missing their youth to the point of distraction around this time. Not me. Sure, I wish my body was still younger but aging is part of the human condition. I like my wrinkles and grey hair. And unlike some, I don’t feel inferior or less relevant as an aging gay man.

But let’s face it, much of our original culture revolved around being young and attractive. [1]I say original culture because it is definitely changing now  Actually, it’s even simpler than that. It revolves around sexual attraction. In that regard, when you delve past the differences, straight men really aren’t that far removed. I realize I’m generalizing here. I’m not attempting to marginalize all of us into one category. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, a lot of guys around my age and older grew up fighting for an identity as well as being accepted. Of course, also being men into other men, sex and sexuality was a big part of our emerging culture. Sadly, many of us developed coping-mechanisms to compensate for our struggles. Many of those coping-mechanisms became wide spread and part of our culture over time. But being part of our culture doesn’t necessarily mean it’s healthy for us. On a tangent, it isn’t surprising really. We had to overcome stereotypes that portrayed us as weak and inferior on top of fighting to find acceptance in society. Our ‘culture’ grew out of abandonment, rejection, and an underlying need to belong. And mixed in with all of that was fear, anger, loneliness, and desire. The sexual freedom became a trap many of us couldn’t escape.

For myself, I was very insecure as a young man. I found my validation thru sex. And without realizing it, it became a very compulsive habit. It was a fix for a need I could never satisfy. It became a viscious circle and I consider myself very fortunate to not only have discovered this in myself but also be able to overcome it. A success due in no small part to my blogging. And most surprisingly of all, I found strength in myself. [2]To this day, I still get a little surprised to have found it in myself  That strength allowed me to let go of detrimental coping-mechanisms and move on. I can tick off a list of areas in my life where I found the most growth. Realizing my self-worth should come from within instead of how I was perceived by others was one of them. Frankly, I see gay men all the time who have yet to realize this. You can’t overcome what you don’t see as a problem. They often just grow bitter with age over what they perceive to have lost and resent it. Or more astutely, they resent those who still have it.

So here I sit a 45 years old. My life isn’t perfect and neither am I. But I like my life and who I am. I have regrets but they are overshadowed by my accomplishments. I still look forward to my future. In the best of ironies, when I was younger I never thought I’d live to be very old. Now I find myself looking forward to old age.

References

References
↑1 I say original culture because it is definitely changing now
↑2 To this day, I still get a little surprised to have found it in myself

Spasms

The down side to my recent vacation was a major back spasm midway through it. The day before NYE to be exact. I’m not sure what caused it but boy was it a doozy. We were right in the middle of a nice lunch with Shawn’s sister and her new bf. I started to bend over to untangle Cooper and before I got even halfway it hit me. I stood back up hoping it was just quick and gone but no. The muscles were completely fucked and painful. We had to cut it short and I could barely get in the damn car, much less drive. I spent the rest of the day laying on an air mattress back at the condo avoiding movement. I hoped and prayed with rest, ice, and staying off of it would make it go away quickly. In a word, no.

So yours truly spent NYE laying on a mattress watching The Last Holiday on my tablet. Glorious huh? haha Honestly, I wasn’t upset about missing the holiday. I’m usually stuck at work and being anywhere but at work during that nightmare is a blessing. Seriously, even the spasm was better than working NYE.

Thankfully, one of Shawn’s friends kindly gave us a few vicodin to help with the pain. While not the best choice, muscle relaxers would have been better, it helped take the bite out of the worst pain. It wasn’t the best choice but sure as hell helped and I was grateful to his friend.  I managed to get to a local Chiro doc the next day for an adjustment. It helped but the muscles were inflamed and I just had to wait it out and stay off my feet as much as possible. By the time we drove back to LA, I was able to get up and move around. I let Shawn drive and honestly, it was nice to be a passenger for a change. hehehe

By day three, I could move better but was still in pain. I could drive at a least. I made it home in one piece. I was so angry at myself. Granted, I couldn’t really have done anything to prevent it but logic didn’t really matter. I hate not being able to function. It just aggregated the hell out of me. By the time vacation was over, I was able to get up and down w/o much pain.

Sleeping at night was a mess as I don’t sleep on my back and that was the best position to avoid more pain. Luckily, I had a few vicodin left. And cold meds work great too! Unfortunately for poor Shawn I snore when I sleep on my back. He had to put up with me snoring for about a week. He’d randomly wake me up sometimes when it got back. Poor thing.

It was an additional week before I felt almost normal again. I kept babying it to avoid a relapse. The last time I went thru this a few years ago I had a 2nd spasm right when I was starting to get better. I definitely didn’t want that again. This one seemed to take longer than last time though. Not sure if it was just worse or I’m just getting older. hehehe Either way, not fun.

Fortune

I’m back from PHX and it’s been a busy couple weeks. I spent the last two weeks prepping for my move into my new assignment at work.

Anyway, we had a nice vacation and more importantly, Cooper had an awesome time. He also behaved way better than I expected. It was his first really big road trip since I rescued him. He adapted pretty well. On the drive from SF to LA he fought to stay awake because he just knew every time the car slowed or breaked, “we were there.” hehehe About 3 hours in he finally gave up and crashed in the back seat.

He got to meet Duplo while in LA. I was a bit fearful they wouldn’t get a long but it worked out quite well. After a little bit of angst, they were fine together. Not besties at all but they tolerated each other quite well. Considering Cooper was invading Duplo’s private space, I was really surprised they did so well. Even when we left them alone, they got along ok. Or, at least there were no tell-tale signs of drama while we were out. Cooper was only moderately anxious. We brought his bed and blankie to help him feel ‘at home’ and it really seemed to helps. Having his familiar things seemed to put him more at ease over time.

On the trip from LA to PHX, he quickly passed out. He figured he was in for another long day and didn’t fight it much at all. He would only get up with the daddy’s stopped for gas/bathroom breaks. Once in PHX, he got a little anxious the first time we left him in the condo alone. We took him for a quick ride around town while we were out and then the next time we left, he did much better. Again, he was only anxious the first night then seems to settle in ok.

The only rough spot was when we met up with Shawn’s parents. They had a cat that was so not amused at a strange dog invading his space. Cooper gets along with cats after a while but he initially will ‘rush’ them and cats that don’t no better freak out over that. Of course, once he gets next to the cat, he just sniffs and looks on bewildered. The new cat didn’t know that obviously and in one round managed to knick his nose a tiny bit. It was a very minor injury and did nothing to deter Cooper‘s interest in the roaming kitty. We had to keep him on a leash with a firm hand till the evening was over. Luckily, the lunch spot was very dog friendly and we didn’t have to leave him locked in a room.

On the way back to LA and then SF, he quickly went right to sleep each time. He was an old hat it by then and knew it was a long ride. hehehe  His Daddy and Pappa had a good time but won’t be doing the drive again anytime soon though. Even split up over days, it was rough.

Chef

I’ve been trying harder to stay on top of my eating habits as of late. It doesn’t help when you have nifty food delivery services that offer hot, healthy delivery in 20 mins or less. [1]SpoonRocket, Sprig, etc While mostly healthy, the cost of said services add up quickly. And considering I really want to try and buy a home this next year, it’s time to cut back on overly frivolous expenses.

My work building has a full kitchen and I’ve started taking advantage of it to do a lot of my meals. I get an hour for lunch so usually spend my Monday/Friday doing meal prep for the week. I’ll either drop off groceries or order in using Instacart and then I’m set. I try to eat healthy and tend to enjoy the natural flavor of most foods so most of my food is fresh. I also don’t try to make elaborate meals. I keep it simple.

The kitchen area is an open space and has lots of room. It comes with 3 fridges, a full oven/stove, 4 microwaves, 2 sinks, and various counter top appliances folks have donated over the years. I’d be so lucky if I had a kitchen even half the size at home. Being open, coworkers often come by and see me hard at work. I routinely get comments on how good my food looks or surprised looks that I know how to cook. The truth is cooking isn’t overly hard if you understand a few basics. I’m sure there are a line of chefs that would disagree with me but I’ve always found it rather easy to learn.

I avoid canned food for almost everything. There are a few exceptions of course, but I get physically ill at the smell of canned vegetables. blech. I grew up on a farm and canned veggies was a foreign concept. I never mastered the ability to eat them out of a can. 

The convenience of the kitchen only works when you remember to bring food to cook. I’ve been going thru several schedule changes since returning from vacation and trying to find my groove again. This week has been mostly quick sandwiches from the mart down the block. But, I got my order set for next week so I can get back to it. What’s on the menu you ask? Well, there is a shrimp spinach salad. Shrimp, spinach, avocado, tomato, provolone, snow peas. Then I’m thinking of pasta w/turkey meatballs and some asparagus or Brussel sprouts….

References

References
↑1 SpoonRocket, Sprig, etc

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.