Just when you think something is going well, the tide turns without warning. It's probably something that I feed on and loathe at the same time. Through all of my thoughts right now.....I'm hungry.
Fundamentals or overtones? It used to be an easy choice because I never thought about it. I just looked at the words and went with whatever words came to mind. I never really understood the difference between them. I can't say I honestly do today either. Did that change the results of the test or make it even more true?
What conversations should never be had? Just about all of the ones that the inner sense of peace attends to. I'm in such an automatic mode right now. It truly is my way or the highway; a signature survival mode that I cherish for the strength it brings me and endure for the pain it inflicts.
My heart attack is still a few years off.
Tuesday, February 26, 2002
Wednesday, February 20, 2002
brotherly love
A letter to my mother's cousin... how does that work now? 1st cousins, once removed? Or is it 2nd cousins? Someone e-mail me... lol
*****
*****
Marthalee,
I was roused quite early this morning. My work schedule for the past few months has been Monday-Friday, 1:30pm to 10pm. When I first picked this shift to work I thought it was ideal for my “creature-of-habit” ways, being up late and sleeping in. As it turns out, I was right, but the down side to this swing-shift schedule is that my friends and boyfriend are usually asleep by the time I get home and there’s no one around in the mornings so I basically only see people on the weekends. This morning, I had signed up to speak for PFLAG at a local community college. I still do this every semester; pretty much my only contribution back to the gay community. It’s very satisfying sitting in college classrooms and having a dialogue with people about who and what I am in the hope that later generations will have less intolerance and more understanding. (And I think that being in a college environment still satiates a need that I’ve never fulfilled by actually completing college yet.)
The class was pretty mild with their questions. I think as the years wear on that people seem to feel they “know” more about gay because of the media. Or perhaps it’s not the media per se, but that more people are “out” and visible and so people have had more contact with gay people. Whatever the case, I’m sensing that perhaps in my lifetime it won’t be necessary to go and speak in front a class anymore. Boy, wouldn’t that be nice. I know that things are changing; I’ve always been impatient with change.
Something touched me at the end of the class. A guy came up to our panel of speakers and asked what he could do or say to let his younger brother know that he was okay with him being gay. You could tell that the guy felt a little awkward approaching us. You could also tell how much he loved his brother. He told us how his dad would call his brother a faggot and how he could see what a distance was developing. It’s moments like this that make speaking all the more relevant and rewarding.
I was out last night with a friend and he mentioned he had never been to Seattle. I got to thinking and it’s been three years since I’ve been there. It was Valentine’s Day weekend of 1999. It seems forever ago. I’d like to make some plans to come up maybe toward the end of Summer. Do you have plans? Vacations? Wild, reckless abandon trips to the moon?
Byron & I spent a brief afternoon with Gary, Gail & the girls early in January. While there, we spoke with Grandpa Vern on the phone. He doesn’t sound at all well. From the descriptions that I get from Gary and my mom (separately), it sounds like Grandpa has begun to shut down and settle up in Hoodsport to rest. I wrote him a letter last week. I encouraged him to move down here to his property at The River. I sense though—as I might if I were in his situation—that he’s more comfortable (mentally) where he is, a place of familiar surroundings. I also sense that he doesn’t want to be a burden to his children. This is an irony of the parent-child relationship. In our youth we’re running away to break the ties from our parents while they are hard at work clasping to that control over us. In our parent’s age they are still the parents, not wanting to impart the responsibility of parenting on us over them as we have finally come home to assume this natural progression. In my letter I talked of the family feud between my mother and Gary. I wondered how he viewed that. I’m not even sure at this stage whether he would understand my letter or not. I hope that a generation of unspoken words between he and I were somehow transmitted in my letter. That’s the problem I often face with family members: I’m never quite sure what to say, but always hope that it will all be said in the end.
I just got back from spending last weekend in Las Vegas. A friend was having a birthday celebration there. (He does every year) When I leave the sanctuary of California public buildings, I have to remember to bring a gas mask. The hotels in Las Vegas are filled with cigarette smoke. You don’t realize how sullied you are until you go back to your room where there isn’t any smoke and yet can still smell it just as pungently because it’s imbedded in your clothes. I’ve never much liked the smell of smoke. I’m all for people’s right to do what they want, when they want with their bodies, but don’t include me in the chimney. =)
I’m not much of a gambler. I allow myself $20 to play with when I go. If I lose that in the first few minutes I’m done for the weekend. I never play slots. I stick to the Blackjack tables. I guess I want to feel that I’ve put more than just the luck of the cosmos in the pull of a slot arm, so I sit and make decisions of life & death sizzle like, “Should I hit on 13 with the dealer showing a 10?” …of course, this decision is being made over a $1.00 bet. I tried not to get too stressed out, haha. As it turned out, I ended up keeping my $20 and taking another $76 from the Sahara Hotel. Not too shabby.
At present I’m living in Irvine, CA. I’ll include all my info below. I live across the street from my community college. I’m two miles from work at Verizon Wireless. (I do tech support on the phones) We live in a cute little planned community called Woodbridge. There are two manmade lakes in the center that are nice and peaceful to walk around. The “we” is my boyfriend, Randy, and another friend, David. Randy & I have been dating now for about 13 months. Time…oh time…
Hugs to Mark and Grandma Jean. I hope to see you all soon.
*****
*****
Marthalee,
I was roused quite early this morning. My work schedule for the past few months has been Monday-Friday, 1:30pm to 10pm. When I first picked this shift to work I thought it was ideal for my “creature-of-habit” ways, being up late and sleeping in. As it turns out, I was right, but the down side to this swing-shift schedule is that my friends and boyfriend are usually asleep by the time I get home and there’s no one around in the mornings so I basically only see people on the weekends. This morning, I had signed up to speak for PFLAG at a local community college. I still do this every semester; pretty much my only contribution back to the gay community. It’s very satisfying sitting in college classrooms and having a dialogue with people about who and what I am in the hope that later generations will have less intolerance and more understanding. (And I think that being in a college environment still satiates a need that I’ve never fulfilled by actually completing college yet.)
The class was pretty mild with their questions. I think as the years wear on that people seem to feel they “know” more about gay because of the media. Or perhaps it’s not the media per se, but that more people are “out” and visible and so people have had more contact with gay people. Whatever the case, I’m sensing that perhaps in my lifetime it won’t be necessary to go and speak in front a class anymore. Boy, wouldn’t that be nice. I know that things are changing; I’ve always been impatient with change.
Something touched me at the end of the class. A guy came up to our panel of speakers and asked what he could do or say to let his younger brother know that he was okay with him being gay. You could tell that the guy felt a little awkward approaching us. You could also tell how much he loved his brother. He told us how his dad would call his brother a faggot and how he could see what a distance was developing. It’s moments like this that make speaking all the more relevant and rewarding.
I was out last night with a friend and he mentioned he had never been to Seattle. I got to thinking and it’s been three years since I’ve been there. It was Valentine’s Day weekend of 1999. It seems forever ago. I’d like to make some plans to come up maybe toward the end of Summer. Do you have plans? Vacations? Wild, reckless abandon trips to the moon?
Byron & I spent a brief afternoon with Gary, Gail & the girls early in January. While there, we spoke with Grandpa Vern on the phone. He doesn’t sound at all well. From the descriptions that I get from Gary and my mom (separately), it sounds like Grandpa has begun to shut down and settle up in Hoodsport to rest. I wrote him a letter last week. I encouraged him to move down here to his property at The River. I sense though—as I might if I were in his situation—that he’s more comfortable (mentally) where he is, a place of familiar surroundings. I also sense that he doesn’t want to be a burden to his children. This is an irony of the parent-child relationship. In our youth we’re running away to break the ties from our parents while they are hard at work clasping to that control over us. In our parent’s age they are still the parents, not wanting to impart the responsibility of parenting on us over them as we have finally come home to assume this natural progression. In my letter I talked of the family feud between my mother and Gary. I wondered how he viewed that. I’m not even sure at this stage whether he would understand my letter or not. I hope that a generation of unspoken words between he and I were somehow transmitted in my letter. That’s the problem I often face with family members: I’m never quite sure what to say, but always hope that it will all be said in the end.
I just got back from spending last weekend in Las Vegas. A friend was having a birthday celebration there. (He does every year) When I leave the sanctuary of California public buildings, I have to remember to bring a gas mask. The hotels in Las Vegas are filled with cigarette smoke. You don’t realize how sullied you are until you go back to your room where there isn’t any smoke and yet can still smell it just as pungently because it’s imbedded in your clothes. I’ve never much liked the smell of smoke. I’m all for people’s right to do what they want, when they want with their bodies, but don’t include me in the chimney. =)
I’m not much of a gambler. I allow myself $20 to play with when I go. If I lose that in the first few minutes I’m done for the weekend. I never play slots. I stick to the Blackjack tables. I guess I want to feel that I’ve put more than just the luck of the cosmos in the pull of a slot arm, so I sit and make decisions of life & death sizzle like, “Should I hit on 13 with the dealer showing a 10?” …of course, this decision is being made over a $1.00 bet. I tried not to get too stressed out, haha. As it turned out, I ended up keeping my $20 and taking another $76 from the Sahara Hotel. Not too shabby.
At present I’m living in Irvine, CA. I’ll include all my info below. I live across the street from my community college. I’m two miles from work at Verizon Wireless. (I do tech support on the phones) We live in a cute little planned community called Woodbridge. There are two manmade lakes in the center that are nice and peaceful to walk around. The “we” is my boyfriend, Randy, and another friend, David. Randy & I have been dating now for about 13 months. Time…oh time…
Hugs to Mark and Grandma Jean. I hope to see you all soon.
