Thanksgiving Take Away

Judging by the running commentary on Twitter, it seems that just about everyone I know has a bit of “good LORD, how am I related to these people” moments during Thanksgiving. It’s probably my Baptist upbringing (with a bit of Catholic school thrown in for good measure) that makes me feel like suffering is supposed to teach me something. And so, here are my Thanksgiving lessons.

1) I will never own a home. It’s not that I’m not “handy” in the average gay kind of way, but I’m completely inept. My mother was frustrated at my inability to figure out how to simply unscrew something. I know there’s a saying, but “lefty loosey” just sounds like a character in a Western themed porno. To my credit though, she hadn’t noticed there was a nut holding the screw in place on the other side. But still, nuts, screws, “right tighty” and my mind just starts to wander.

I also got the joy of helping her put away the planters, the outdoor furniture, the grill, and to hammer down the nails that were popping out of the deck. I had to climb up to change a light bulb and carry out boxes to take to the recycling center. I had planned for none of this. I had packed only a white with gray sleeves baseball hoodie of a thing and my fabulous double breasted, khaki H&M coat. These are not things that I care to get dirty, let alone have to remain in to drive home.

The point being that I’m just not suited for homeownership. I know there are some communities out there where they will mow the grass, clean the gutters and fix the water heaters when they break. However, I think I’m still about 40 years out before I’d qualify to live there. So, I shall remain in my tiny, cheap apartment and have the security that it isn’t my problem when this dishwasher inevitably gives out.

2) I have a ghetto berry. I was so proud of myself when I upgraded from my Special Needs Phone to my BlackBerry. I felt like my technophobic self was jumping into the 21st Century with reckless abandon. Then my sister shows up to Thanksgiving with her fancy new, WiFi capable, get actual internet and watch video, 3.2 megapixel camera BlackBerry. My poor phone (whose name is Tyrone) had to hide in my jeans pocket in shame. Tyrone does all that I need him to do, but I had a sense that I was actually with it. (Can you really be “with it” if you use the term “with it?) I had lied to myself.

3) Booze should be permitted. I know that I come from a family of tee-totallers (with one honest to God Baptist minister in the mix), but wouldn’t we all just get along a little better if we were at least a little tipsy?

4) I’ll end with just a few quick little nuggets of knowledge I’ve gleaned in the past couple of days. Giblets are disgusting and no one needs to ever have to see that, let alone touch it and sweet baby Jesus NEVER have to eat it. 11 year olds without any obvious impairment should be able to wipe their own ass without parental assistance. Dressing and stuffing are the same thing (who knew??) and people are way picky about it and will bitch about it no matter how or where it’s made. People who say they don’t like nuts will eat pecan pie. It is vital to stay in decent shape, because the downside of that is pretty ugly. Though family makes me wanna drive home just to be near a tall building to jump off of, they can also kinda be great when they share my love for playing cards and board games.

Maybe Not So Easy Steps

It usually doesn’t take long to learn that I’m kind of in love with Alanis Morissette. I’m not at all talking about the angsty music of the “Jagged Little Pill” album. That’s probably my least favorite Alanis album. I actually fell in love with her on that album’s follow up “Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie.”

The point of bringing that up is that there is a lyric from a song called “8 Easy Steps” that keeps running through my head. The song’s verses are a listing of the things she could teach someone about what we do to sabotage ourselves in our relationships and lives. (It’s actually a very upbeat and peppy song). The line I keep thinking of is “how to sabotage your fantasies by fear of success.”

I kind of feel like that’s the point I’ve reached.

I’m truly scared to make my next move. I don’t think I would have any problem walking away from the job I’m in. As you’ve read, I hate it. Granted, I’m also afraid of the financial situation and how all that would work. (Maybe I’ll wish for a benefactor for Christmas.) However, I think the thing I’m most of afraid of is actually formulating and plan and then having to stick to it.

Let’s just say that I miraculously got into a grad school somewhere (which would be one of the first successes), then I would have to deal with the financial implications and get all of that in order. Then, I would have to commit to going to school and getting myself back in an “academic” mindset. I’m really afraid that my mind is kind of shot after working here for 5 years. My job has had a way of making me not quite as sharp as I once was.

Thinking even further out, let’s just imagine that I get into a grad program and do well and actually graduate. Then what? I’m still barely formulating what I want to do with my life. What if I do all this for nothing? Will I just end up where I am right now, but with another $50k worth of student loan debt to pay off? Will it have been worth it?

I’m about to take some time off from work and I’m going to try to get as many answers to this as I can and I’m going to actually write out a visual list of goals. As another Alanis song says “the only way out is through/the faster we’re in the better.”

Innocence Maintained

Let’s just be honest, Jewel isn’t the pinnacle of artistic music. And while I’ve seen her live 5 or 6 times and own every album she’s ever made, she can be that kind of faux artsy best exemplified by most cast members of “The Real World.” And for the record, I’m talking about back when they didn’t just sleep with each other. (Shout out to the New Orleans and Seattle cast!!) She has a voice that grates on most of my friend’s nerves and many of her “deep” insights are trite at best. However, there is a line from one of her songs that has stuck with me. “Innocence can’t be lost, it just needs to be maintained”.

I’ve used that as kind of a personal motto for about 10 years now. I frequently throw that line out when explaining why I can’t watch violent movies. I use that sentence when ranting about how movies are just getting bloodier and gorier because we are becoming desensitized. It’s also one of the reasons why I get my news from NPR. I don’t need to see the bleeding corpses in Afghanistan, just let me know what happened.

I never really thought that my career would be one that made me actively work to maintain my innocence. However, the first phone call I ever made as an adjuster was on a fatality claim where the driver had been killed and the passenger survived. I had no idea. I don’t remember the name of the guy I had to call. I only remember that he was a bit younger than me. I was 24 at the time. I was told to call the passenger and confirm what happened in the accident and make sure he wasn’t injured. It was a single vehicle accident, so I didn’t think that it could be all that bad.

Imagine my surprise when my chipper self is met with a guy screaming “My best friend fucking died in the seat me beside me. How the fuck do you THINK I am?” I got off the phone as quickly as possible and immediately had a little breakdown. I could play the “shouldn’t that have been a cosmic sign to get the hell out” game all day, but I’m still here, so what’s the point?

I had to make a phone call to a mother today. Her son was killed in an accident this morning. This lady must have the resolve of Queen Elizabeth, because she didn’t seem phased at all. I’m sure she’s in shock. The guy was about a month younger than me. I know my mom would be devastated.

I felt terrible calling to tell her they had liability only and I couldn’t help them with the car. I could pay for the fence he damaged and I’d get the police report and find out who owned it. I felt like those things were so trivial. So cold and corporate. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug her and be my usual sympathetic self. However, we had “business” to attend to and that was the point of my call. Plus, my company obligates me to call her back within 2 hours of reporting the accident.

I’m going to visit one of my former professors tonight who I know will be great to talk to about how I'm feeling about all of this. I’m hoping that she will have some wise words to say that will help me deal with all of the thoughts going through my head about all of this. (What have I/am I becoming? How did I end up doing this? How do I get out? Etc.)

But probably more, I’d like to tell a mother that was on the other end of my phone a little while ago, I hope you realize that I wasn’t as uncaring as I probably seemed.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I will start this by saying that the rest of this post might likely turn into platitudes and I will also admit that it is kind of off topic from the rest of the blog.

The “coming out” process is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with. I’m using present tense on purpose. It was more than 8 years ago that I actually came out to my mom. It was a mess of an over the phone conversation on my sister’s couch one morning. It continues to be a struggle. Once the words “I’m gay” came out of my mouth, she and I reached a never verbalized agreement to just never speak of it again. So, I live my normal life with my friends, co-workers and even the Twitterati where I’m perfectly out and everything is fine. Then there is the life I have with her where we talk and share our lives with each other, except for that one little piece that I withhold.

I started writing this because I’ve just been exchanging text messages with a friend who is coming out to his mom. He is just a bit older than me and has actually lived with his boyfriend for several years. He’s just never actually said the words “I’m gay” to his mother.

I know someone else who is younger and is just going through the “should I or shouldn’t I come out” process. He had worked up the courage to do it a few days ago, but when he saw his mom, she had some other family news/drama to discuss and so he tabled the conversation for another day.

I’m actually really scared for both of them. I would hate for these guys to lose that closeness, that connection and that unconditional love that only a mom can give.

Obviously, the situation may go differently for these two. I certainly hope it does. However, coming out to my mom was the first time I’d ever seen disappointment in her eyes. It was the first time I’d ever felt like I’d truly hurt her. It ended up being a giant wedge driven into our relationship and I sometimes wish I could take it back.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly happy and content being who I am. I have no guilt or reservation in being what I was created. I just wish that there was some way for me to be that and also still “a good son” in my mother’s eyes. I was watching “Glee” the other night and one of the characters came out to his dad. He was met with a hug and acceptance. I bawled like a 2 year old on the sofa. Wouldn’t it be great if real life could be like TV?

****

Even in 2009 it takes courage to be out, so big hugs to both of the guys I talk about here and to all my gays and the girlz (and the odd straight guy) who love us.

M-A-R-C-O and Marco was his name-o

I will dedicate this blog post to my friend Jimmy who told me this was starting to become jupiter uninspired.

So everyone has their albatross, right?

I think it’s safe to say that mine is the automobile. Since I was a kid I’ve always had a fascination with cars. My favorite toys were my entire laundry basket full of Hot Wheels. Yes, Hot Wheels and only Hot Wheels, I would have never had Matchbox. I’ve always had very strict preferences and standards. My other favorites were my Transformers ‘cuz c’mon robots that became cars??? How frickin’ cool is that? I also had quite an affinity for my Olivia Newton John records, but that’s another post for another day.

I’m 29 years old and I’ve had 6 cars that I would consider mine. In high school, I drove my mom’s car, but I named her so I’m including her on my list. Her name was Tawanda Taurus. It’s more story than you care to hear about how she got her name, but all you need to know is that it is related to the “Fried Green Tomatoes” film and that when you hit the gas the front seat would detach from the floorboard and fly backwards. I’ve also had Corey Corsica, Hiram Hyundai, Francois Focus, Joshua Jetta and presently I drive Marco Murano.

I’ve never felt that any car I had was showy. I’ve certainly never thought that my car would impress anyone and I’ve never wanted it to. However, I’ve gone through a succession of cars and each one with their respective payments. I’ve always said, “when I pay off this one, I’ll be able to quit my job and go do what I really want to do”. However, due to ignorance on my part or poor craftsmanship on Ford’s part, I’ve yet to pay off any of them.

So, now I’m stuck with Marco. And don’t get me wrong, I like him. He’s a big, obnoxious SUV and I should have had to show proof of my family of 5 before they let me drive him off the lot, but I actually traded in Joshua to reduce my payments. But I’m still a long way from paying Marco off and I can’t help but resent him just a bit. He may have a sunroof for when it’s warm out and he may have heated seats for when it’s cold, but he is also a barrier to making me happier with life.

I had a frank conversation with a friend the other day who told me that the only thing that could possibly prevent me from going back to school was “how I’d keep paying for the car”. So, I’m afraid that without some breakthrough that I can’t forecast right now, I’m stuck where I am. I should at least get some Olivia on my iPod. I bet she’d sound great on Marco’s Bose speakers.

Cuz Why Not Share?

Here's the story of my little accident this morning. I can't stress how minor it really was. But, a story, nonetheless.

So I go to the Dunkin Donuts this morning to get donuts for the office. I get those and start heading into work. For some reason, the police have the street blocked. There are cones and sawhorses everywhere. The road is a general clusterf*$k. Papaw in front of me (in a Buick Roadmaster woody wagon) gets all befuddled and can't decide what to do. So, he does the natural thing and decides to abort mission and back up. So, here I sit in morning traffic downtown and Pappy's got his reverse lights on. I'm on the horn like it's my job and Pappy just keeps on comin'.
He obviously did not put the hearing aid in when he left the house this morning. There is a police officer standing at the street that is blocked and he hears me honking. He looks over just in time to see Pappy backing and coming at me. Pappy then hits the front of my car. He then throws it into drive and drives away. I can't get my head out of the car fast enough to yell at the officer "HE JUST HIT ME!!!".

Insurance adjuster in me kicked in and I've already memorized his plate number. The officer radios it in and I pull over. Pappy apparently gets stopped somewhere down the road by another officer and comes back.
He arrives smoking and in a t shirt that says "Been There, Done That". I can attest, he indeed has. He informs me that he has never had a wreck. I'd guess his age is apx somewhere between 75 and 900. So, if the last thing on his list was to get in an accident...success, Pappy!!. You have now been there and done that, literally....everything.
Anyway, a claim is already set up with his insurance. It's a company that I deal with frequently, so I'll hear from them in 2 weeks, if I'm lucky.

But, like I said, it's minor and I'm in no hurry. Thanks to all that inquired about me this morning and sorry for it sounding a little more dramatic than it was when I sent out the first tweet.

Melt it down, you're gonna have to eventually anyway

I’ve managed to not go to work proper today. I woke up feeling terrible and worked from home. This left me with a good bit of time to stay home and think. Apparently, time spent alone on the sofa all day with nothing on TV besides football leads to deep thinking and blog posts.

A little back story: I double majored in English and Political Science. I originally went to college thinking that I would go on to law school and then do something in the realm of Politics. I’ve never really had the ambition of being a politician, but I can be a bit of a policy wonk. I started taking Political Science classes my first semester of college and was about halfway through the required courses by the end of my sophomore year. However, I had a life changing experience in a general education British Lit survey class. I discovered poetry.

I fell in love with Romantic and Modern poetry and had an actual bring me to tears, pace the dorm room for about thirty minutes, chills running down my arms experience after reading the “The Waste Land” by TS Eliot. I can actually still read it and have a fairly intense experience.

So, I added my English major in order to further delve into words and poetry and find an outlet for the creative part of myself that had finally found its medium. I was so far into the Political Science major that I just kept it as well. I set my sights on getting into grad school and getting my PhD in English. The thought of getting to spend the rest of my life studying poetry and sharing my love for it with other people seemed like the perfect life.

Up to this point in life, I’d managed to attain every goal I’d set for myself. Granted, I was all of 21 years old during this time, but I’d been reasonably successful for someone my age. The thing is: I’d barely had to try. I’m not trying to come off too egotistical and Lord knows I don’t have a superiority complex. However, I’d never studied for a test, barely did “homework” and really hadn’t put a lot of effort into my college experience. I still graduated with a 3.5. I had just assumed that like everything else in life that I wanted, I’d just get into a grad school and continue on my merry way.

That didn’t happen.

I applied to four schools and didn’t get into any of them. I had been working part time as a teller at a bank my senior year of school and reluctantly went full time after college. This was the first real setback that I had ever experienced. To say that I was depressed is an understatement.

I’ll skip a lot of story, but fast forward to now. I’m 29 and I’ve been working as an insurance adjuster or 5 years. This is not at all where I thought I would be. I’ve resolved that I’m going to make changes in my life and finally get to a place where I’m significantly happier with where I am. And here’s what I think I know: I was meant to be on a college campus. I have friends who work for my alma mater and just being on campus has a “this is home” feeling. I know it sounds kind of cheesy, but I feel like something is telling me that is where I belong.

While in Nashville recently, we went through Vanderbilt’s campus and the same thing happened. I just wanted to get out of the car and walk around, because something just felt like it was where I needed to be. I frequently go for walks through UK’s campus, because something draws me in and while traveling for work to various cities, I always find the areas near a campus and spend my free time there.

However, I don’t quite think the English route is where I’m supposed to go. When I look at my transcript I see that I got nothing but As in my Political Science classes and my one and only C was in my Chaucer class. I’ve stayed interested in Politics since college following what is going on internationally, nationally and in the past few months really watching what is going on locally. It’s been a long time since I’ve picked up any of my books of poetry.

So now the questions: Given my desire to want to be in a college/academic setting, do I need to try to get into grad school for Political Science? Am I too old? Have I missed my opportunity? Can I get in? Am I smart enough? I looked at a few grad school’s websites today and I have to say, I’m overwhelmed. I’m scared. I’m doubting myself. I’m wondering if I’m really going in the right direction if I pursue that. Is there a way to know that for sure?

All things to ponder on and I certainly don’t know where I go to find the answer. Though, I have to note that the only thing saved on my DVR right now are last week’s Sunday morning political talk shows and my iPod decided that it wanted to play “You Learn” by Alanis Morissette as I am wrapping this up.

“Throw it down/the caution blocks you from the wind/hold it up/to the rays/you wait and see when the smoke clears/you live, you learn”