Ponderings and Musings

Serenity.

It’s kind of a crazy, stressful time at work. The Big Project™ that I’m working on at work is rather time consuming and while I am just one of a team comprised of several members, I find that the workload is creeping up worse than underwear, especially since everything has been piled up on top of my regular job. I know that I’m going to feel a great sense of pride and accomplishment when this project comes to a close next spring, but in the interim all I’m feeling is stress. Lots of stress.

This stress is considerably different from the stress I felt in my previous job because the old job involved irregular sleeping patterns and being awoken on an erratic schedule.  The Big Project™ isn’t causing me to lose sleep, simply because I have a knack for being able to fall asleep in an instant whenever I need to, but staying asleep can be a little troublesome if I have something on my mind. This happens once in a while, especially on Sunday nights. This occasionally manifests itself as insomnia but in other cases I have been known to walk, talk, dance or jump in my sleep. Luckily I have a husbear that can tell the difference between my sleep walking self from my normal self and he keeps me from hurting myself by falling down the stairs or something. I have a hunch that he laughs at me.

I have been feeling considerably stressed out this week (and it’s only Tuesday), so I took a moment and removed myself from the noise, closed my eyes and recited the first paragraph of the Serenity Prayer to myself.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.

After reciting the prayer I went so far as to print out the verse, cut it into a neat little square and tape it to my computer monitor. I now have it as a point of reference whenever I need a little reminder. I surprisingly felt more comfort than anticipated after this little exercise. My stress level went down considerably. I get why this prayer is recited at AA meetings and the like, the words are comforting and make perfect sense. The exercise gave me a chance to catch my breath and regain my focus, the words provided some needed comfort.

Perhaps we all need to just take a moment during the day and find ourselves again.

Duty.

As an American that was raised in the 70s and 80s, like most of my contemporaries I have had a sense of duty instilled in my very existence since a very young age. The morning routine was simple; the buzzer would sound at 9:10, indicating the beginning of the school day, and we stood, placed our hands over our hearts and recited the “Pledge of Allegiance”, as led by a booming voice over the PA system. I am proud that I did that every morning, and even led the high school through the exercise in my junior and senior year, so don’t think that this is some anti-pledge or anti-American rant. Because it’s not.

As we make our way through our school years, we learn about the history of our country, how it affects us today and the importance of keeping abreast of current events and the like. It’s important to know where we have been, where we are and where we are going. This is the reason that I try to keep on top of current events; I have a stake in the future and I want to be part of it. There are many things worth fighting for to further the foundation of our country: life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

But, gosh, it is getting harder and harder to listen to the news without kicking in the face of a radio.

In the past 72 hours I have listened to endless coverage of the Iowa Straw Poll. Honestly, the relevance of this exercise escapes me and based on the explanations I heard on the news channels over the weekend, there’s something about passing out tickets, corn dogs, fried butter, a rogue bus with a rogue woman who’s not a candidate, a seal tent with air conditioning and folks dropping out of a race that really shouldn’t have even started yet, as we honestly have more important things to do than to make our elected leader look bad and stupid but saying idiotic things about him when he’s just trying to sort through a mess that just keeps bigger and bigger.

And speaking of idiotic things, here are some nuggets I heard during this coverage. These paraphrased snippets are from folks that were pulling the straws:

* The United States is the oldest country and government in the history of mankind.
* It is more than apparent that Jesus Christ was a Christian and that’s why we should all be Christians.
* The democrats are evil because they don’t support trade unions.
* In Canada you have to wait six months for a chance to go to the emergency room at the hospital because of their “socialist health care”.

This is the stuff that makes me crazy. It’s the perpetuation of the babblings from the ignorant, misinformed and downright stupid. This perpetuation somehow cements it as gospel. It’s like repeating a lie over and over again, say it enough times and it’ll become the truth, because everyone, including yourself, will believe it. Kind of like telling the world you’re a straight man trying to save the world from the gay when you sit in an airport stall tapping your foot for a little lick lick from someone that’s in the same bathroom as you.

I feel it is my duty as an American to know what’s going on and to listen to the news. Last fall when I served jury duty it blew me away that I was the only one on the jury that had any inkling as to current events in our area, and we don’t even watch the local news (the local news channel doesn’t believe in sharing over the satellite systems like the rest of the country). When they were doing the jury selection they mentioned the case that was involved and the name was instantly recognizable because it’s been talked about in our local media for the past 20 years and I was the only one that had heard of it! How can people stumble through life in such a cloud of ignorance and then be trusted to make a sane decision when we elect our next leader? How is this fair?

One of the newscasts I listen to in the morning makes a point of saying how long President Obama has been in office and how many days until the next election. I believe it’s somewhere in the neighborhood of 462 days until we elect (or re-elect) our next president, and if the Iowa Straw Poll with corn dogs on a stick and suggestive pictures of consumption of such are indication, it is going to be a very long and dismal 462 days.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Memory.

I’ve spent the first half of my lunch hour today chatting with former classmates on Facebook. We have been talking about the old days at school and it is becoming quite apparent that I must have some sort of memory disorder because I remember too many things with too much detail to be labeled normal. I remember the names of teachers, their assigned room numbers (I wonder if my favorite math teacher is still in Room 202?), the names of teachers that retired before I even got to that grade, the bell schedule of the high school and the fact that the bell used to signal a class change was an A-flat played over the PA speakers. I guess it’s somewhat natural, due to my fascination with clocks, that I remember that the bell rang three seconds after the clock positioned itself to the right time for the class change and that teachers would insist we wait for the bell, even though I don’t think they would have been able to cram anymore learning into the moments between 09:36:00 and 09:36:03. I could also share that this quirk appeared in 1981 when the master clock in the main office was replaced but that would be downright spooky.

Ask me what I had for supper two nights ago and I probably could remember if I thought about it hard enough. I know that I’m trying to forget last night’s supper, which was at a Chinese buffet that we lovingly call “China Nazi” because when we go in the hostess, and I use that term loosely, motions us to our table and proclaims, “You sit THERE!”. Her tone makes me want to bark out a “Heil Hitler!” but I don’t because that’s a totally different continent.

I’m pretty good with dates for the most part, though today I wished our friend Mike a happy birthday when his birthday is on Sunday. I always think he’s just shy of a month younger than me when in reality he is a month and a day younger than me. I remember my aunt and uncle’s wedding anniversary in 1979 for no apparent reason (other than they’re family). I remember most my cousins’ birthdays. Earl proclaimed he didn’t know his brother’s phone number the other night but I told him what it was. The digits are nearly the same as 62 WHEN in Syracuse and somewhat in the neighborhood of Route 481, also in Syracuse, so it’s simple math, at least in my head. By the way, his brother lives nowhere near Syracuse but I suppose he would fit in if he lost the Philly accent.

One thing that makes me hesitant with my memory is names. Some may notice that it takes a few encounters before I will address someone I have met during my adult years by their name. I hate getting names wrong because it’s kind of embarrassing. When I was in the hospital in 8th grade, the next room over in pediatrics had a patient named Carrie but I always called her Marcia because I thought she looked like a Marcia. My roommate, Eric, reminded me several times and that made me hesitant to call someone by name if I can’t remember it. I usually have an idea of what a person should be named by appearance. That being said, I don’t know that I have ever actually called someone Creepella to their face. Okay, I did that one time and she was not amused.

I attribute this memory talent, for lack of a better word, completely to my father. I owe him for inheriting that trait, because he could be downright spooky too. During the days of the family store, a customer could walk in, having not been in the store for a decade, and my father would say hello like it was yesterday and remind them of the pound of 10-common nails they had purchased the last time they were there, usually sometime in the mid 1970s (even though the present date was sometime in the late 1980s). The same customer would then look at me, thinking I was really good at math, as I rang them up because I didn’t have to use the calculator or reference a tax chart to compute the tax required for their purchase. It wasn’t that I was doing math in my head, I had just memorized the tax chart. Think of the time I could save on figuring out my purchases today if the sales tax rate was still 4%! I wouldn’t have to use my fingers or anything.

All of this memory stuff comes full circle though, when friends and family remind me of something that they have told me a half dozen times in the past month. “I forgot!”

I think I need to upgrade my RAM. I have too much stuff up there.

 

Service.

Okay, this just made my day. As I may have mentioned once or twice through Foursquare and Twitter, I go to the Dunkin’ Donuts closest to work during my lunch hour on a daily basis. More order is predictable; I get a large, unsweetened iced-tea with lemon and if I’m feeling especially daring, I might add a cookie (but no more than once a week on the cookie).

I have been in conference calls all morning, so when I was able to escape for my lunch break I arrived at the DD and immediately had to use the wash room. When I came out of the wash room I went up to the counter like I always do. Already waiting for me was my large, unsweetened iced-tea with lemon. I didn’t have to ask for it. The cashier had a large, sly smile as she handed it to me before I ordered it.

Now, I know this is a really small thing but it’s that little extra effort in service that makes me smile and aids in my restoration of faith in the American populace in general. I added my weekly cookie to the order and gave the cashier an appropriate gratuity. She thanked me.

It’s the little things that count.

 

Plans.

“Do you think the Blue Angels are available to do an airshow?”

“No.”

“A fly over?”

“No.”

“Perhaps a Cessna 150 with a really small horn?”

Glare.

“Can we get a bouncy house for the kids and the kids at heart?”

Eye roll.

“I suppose chips in dog bowls would be tacky.”

“Really?”

These are the questions and responses that are being aired about as Earl and I discuss our wedding plans. There was quite an outpouring of love when we changed our Facebook statuses from “In A Relationship” to “Engaged”. We notified each other of our status changes via Facebook, even though we were sitting across the table from one another.

Slowly but surely plans are coming together. Dates are being set. Thoughts are being aired and budgets are being checked. People from all over are sending wonderful words of love and support in our direction. Quite frankly I still can’t believe that somehow, in some manner, the State of New York has deemed it legally possible for me to marry the man that makes me see fireworks every time he walks into a room. I was talking about the vacation time with the Director of the group I work in and I actually got a little teary eyed. I read about and hear on the news that “Conservatives” oppose same sex marriage. Honestly, I think that’s a bit of hogwash. It’s actually right-wing extremists and nut jobs that oppose same sex marriage. I know a lot of conservative people1. Many have voiced their support. The others have kept their mouths shut and not said a word. I know who fits into which camp. I’m not bothered by it. I figure they’ll figure it out when they pass on to the next existence and figure out how silly they have been.

We know a few couples that have been together for more than 30 years. One in particular are still quite obviously very much in love and yet they are not allowed to get married in the state of Wyoming. We’ve asked them to come visit us so they can breathe a little bit of open minded air. It might do them so good. Another couple that has been together just as long don’t seem interested in getting married even though they can now. I don’t find this sad, it’s not my business to make that judgement. They can do what they need to do to find happiness just like everyone else in the world. I know straight couples that opt out of marriage and they seem quite happy.

I just know that I never thought marriage would be in the cards but now that it is, I am very excited and even more blissfully happy.

Happiness. There needs to be more of this.

1 Actually, I consider myself a middle of the road, financially somewhat conservative libertarian more than anything else.

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Social.

As a bit of a social networking junkie and a downright nerd when it comes to all things connected, I get a bit of a kick out of the social networking app called Foursquare. If you’re unfamiliar with it, this is an app that lives on your favorite mobile device that allows you to ‘check-in’ at whatever business you happen to be in. They have made this part of a game; you earn little trinkets and doo-dads and if you go to the same place enough times, you eventually become ‘mayor’. As I understand it, some places offer specials to the Foursquare mayor of their business, but I have yet to be treated like royalty. There are other similar programs out there, such as Gowalla, plus there is Facebook Places and Google Places (and the check-ins on Google+) that allow you to do the same thing for the most part. Early in my discovery of Foursquare, I would earn myself some eye rolls from the folks I was with because I would squeal (in a very masculine voice) that I was now the mayor of places like the Cozy-Have-A-Snack1. There were several blogger and Twitter types that would gripe when Foursquare announced to the world that we had just become mayor. I turned that feature off; I only update Twitter when I want people to know where I am.

And, while I’m on the subject, I’m really not that concerned about people knowing where I am because I’m the one that is doing and controlling the announcing. It’s not like my phone is automatically checking me in to their locations.

While I don’t really have an interest in the idea of earning mayorships of businesses that I visit frequently, I do think it’s a hoot when I earn one, especially if I’ve only been to that location once or twice. I’m more excited to see who else is checked in to the same location I’m at and the excitement of seeing another geek on the street and in the wild. It’s kind of like the early days of being out as a gay and you’d get a little giddy when you saw another gay on the street. This latter example subsided for me considerably when I lived in Boston and my gaydar blew several fuses, a circuit breaker and any modicum of composure when I walked down Newbury Street for the first time.

But I digress.

Up until recently I was the mayor of the Dunkin’ Donuts closest to work. I held this title for a long time. There were no advertised specials nor was my photo plastered on the wall, but ever since I was mayor I didn’t have any clear liquid stuff sprayed into tea nor did I receive a bagel with pink goo on it by mistake. My orders have been accurate. While we were in Denver, I received word that a person by the name of Amanda S. had taken over as mayor of the Dunkin’ Donuts.

When I checked in today, I noticed that she was also checked in to the location. At long last, our paths were crossing and we would have the opportunity to meet. I walked into the restaurant and saw that they had no customers. Must be she had already left. I asked for my usual unsweetened iced tea and after someone went to get it, I asked for lemon.

“Amanda, be sure to put a lemon in it”, the cashier yelled over to the prep station.

A HA!

Sure enough, Amanda with the lemon is Amanda S. the mayor of Dunkin’ Donuts on Foursquare. I bet she thought she was quite crafty by not wearing her name tag, but the Hardy Boy in me figured it out. She wasn’t hiding under the secret stair case, she was right there, working at the Dunkin’ Donuts and checking in every time she had to work.

When she came back to give me my tea I cocked an eyebrow and pointed a finger at her. “Amanda? Amanda S from Foursquare?”

She smiled, blushed and said yes.

I smiled and said, “nice to meet you.”

And that’s what makes social networking cool.

1 Über points to the person that can name that very obscure pop culture reference.

Reality.

Back in MY day (my goodness I’m getting old), summertime on television used to mean that we got to watch reruns. I remember one particular summer where we got to see Farrah Fawcett be an angel after watching Cheryl Ladd do the honors the whole season before. That same summer Laverne and Shirley’s landlady hadn’t married yet and they called her Mrs. Babish, even though we now knew her to Frank’s wife. Reruns were what we got in the summer and though it was brain candy, it was good.

Today we get reality shows.

Now, I don’t think one should be watching a lot of television in the summertime. In these parts it’s the one time of the year where you can actually get outside and do something without having to wear a snowmobile suit, so I like to keep busy in some manner. But once in a while you want to escape and be a couch potato. Enter, the Reality Shows.

Earl is good at flicking the remote through the various offerings we get on the satellite. I’m not much for channel surfing anymore. I’d rather just think of something to watch and download it, cutting the cable completely and controlling our own schedule, but if you’ve been raised in the era of channel surfing it’s hard to break the habit. Yesterday he was watching some reality show called “Millionaire Blind Date” or something like that.

What a waste of technology.

First of all, I don’t know where to begin. I’m probably going to sound like an offensive, judgmental prick, but the woman who’s running this millionaire dating service thing is one of the most screeching, obnoxious women I think I’ve ever witnessed. Her lips are so plumped up she looks like she’s been stung by a bee. I will set aside her grating downstate accent because I’m nice like that, but her attitude towards her clients is unbelievably awful. I don’t know why anyone with any sort of self respect would go to this woman for dating assistance, especially since she can’t be doing a really good job if she needs to fund her business through appearing on a reality show. Not since The Beast1 appeared on “Love Cruise” and “Paradise Hotel” has such an awful woman appeared on a reality show. I blame that thing they call Snooki (and for the life of me, I still haven’t figured out what a Snooki is). If this is the best that the greater New York metropolitan area can offer than Houston we have a problem.

I think I should be ashamed that I know about these reality show people I have just mentioned.

Now I haven’t watched “Big Brother” since BB3, I have seen what sort of damage Survivor can do by releasing people like Elizabeth Hasselbeck onto the masses and I have absolutely no desire to eat a bug, but when is this reality show ‘fad’ going to end? Why can’t we go back to things like “Password Plus” or “Match Game”? At least on those shows we knew the celebrities that were appearing and we had the entertainment of watching them whilst under the influence.

I think I need to convince Earl to dial it back to TV Land and watch a rerun of “Alf” or something.

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Observations.

I am officially halfway through the work week and this makes me feel quite good. In a way it’s like wishing your life away, but there is just something that is rather satisfying about knowing that the weekend is closer to reality than it was a few days ago. We don’t have any particularly huge plans for the weekend but nevertheless it’s good to think about sleeping in and the like.

The seagulls that are usually present at the other shopping center I occasionally frequent at lunchtime have made their way to this one, further from the lake I suspect they haunt. They are loud. It seems that they are attracted to Burger King, as they like to circle the fast food restaurant at both locations. They seem to ignore McDonalds. Perhaps they don’t like apple slices in their Happy Meals. I don’t know why people go to McDonalds expecting healthy choices. When I was a kid we knew better. I still know better. I saw “Super Size Me”. It’s not a myth and it’s not like the Happy Meal apple slices are grown on a tree hanging over the drive thru speaker. You know what you’re getting when you go to McDonalds. Grow up.

A good friend from high school found the grave site of one of our high school English teachers and shared a photo of the site on Facebook. I found this kind of touching, especially since this English teacher was notoriously difficult in his ways. He was pretty good at making you feel like crap if you didn’t meet his expectations. He retired halfway through my senior year of high school. The final week of that semester he admitted to the class that he enjoyed “an older gentleman with a touch of gray around his sideburns.” His eyes were wistful when he said that. Since the class had only three students in it, not many were able to hear this. I giggle when I see others post on Facebook that he was after the girls. I didn’t need the gaydar back then (though it was working) to know better. He seemed too upstanding to make sexual advances at anyone at school, especially students. He was too lost in his literature.

I have just corrected the sentence structure in that previous paragraph three times because I guess the ghost of this teacher still scares the bejeebus out of me.

The drive thru line at Dunkin’ Donuts was about six cars deep. I don’t use the drive thru anymore, even when it’s raining. Whenever I walk inside for my unsweetened iced tea the place is empty. “No lines, no waiting” as I used to say on the PA speaker at Hills when I opened up my register. If people walked inside the store instead of barreling through the drive thru, there might be a slight reduction in carbon emissions and some extra calories might be burned. I haven’t had a chocolate chunk cookie treat at lunch time at all this month. That, along with some other modifications to my eating habits, have resulted in a five pound weight loss since my birthday. This makes me happy.

Lots of people are asking when Earl and I are getting married, now that our Facebook statuses indicate that we are engaged. I smile just thinking about it. Earl quips that he’s a bridezilla but he really isn’t. Neither am I. We are just two guys who love each other unconditionally. 60s sitcoms used to talk about typical weddings. I can’t think of any wedding that was typical. Everyone does their own thing and we’ll do the same.

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Bristled.

Alec Baldwin was answering random questions for a while this morning on Twitter. I usually don’t participate in this sort of thing because I think it’s really weird when a person says “OMG SAY MY NAME ON TWITTER SO I CAN BE GIDDY” and then the celebrity complies. There is usually a squeal from Ms. Caps Lock after this time-stopping deed has been completed. But since Mr. Baldwin is a political activist of sorts I decided to ask a completely random question.


This is not entirely out of character for me to ask and honestly, I don’t find it all that odd. As a man that is obsessed with facial hair (lord knows I love me some furry faces) I am also equally obsessed with the removal of the scruff. I believe the way a man chooses to remove his naturally growing fur speaks a lot about him as a person, especially in the United States. (I’ve never been able to test my theories in other parts of the world).

I blame my father. My father has been clean shaven for as long as I have been alive and as far as I know, every morning he went into the bathroom and used a can of shaving cream and a razor to shave. My father is one of the most upstanding, honest men I know and therefore I equate this method of grooming with guys that give a damn about themselves, the world and are generally good citizens. There are exceptions to every rule of course, but my casual, completely unscientific observations over the years since making this personal determination have fit these assumptions about 90-95% of the time. Men that choose the use electric razors fling themselves through life working at putting on a quick façade to fit the situation at hand and then move on to the next situation to be whoever they need to be there, grinding away at their chin with a miniaturized lawn mower in between appearances. I see those guys as politicians, CEOs and men that own places like “Carl Tucker’s Used Cars”.1 By the way, back in my wild, single years, I dumped a few guys, even a very rich one, because of this theory. My hunches proved to be right.

I have been doing a lot of listening of talk radio during my commute this week, simply because I want to wrap my head around the debt ceiling crisis and listen to all sides of the story. The new Jeep has satellite radio, so I have had the opportunity to listen to channels dubbed telling names like “Left”, “Right”, “Patriot” and “Power”. The arguments on both sides of the fence are interesting. I listened to Presidential Candidate Gary Johnson speak about his thoughts and I think I agreed with him. He is a proponent of a “consumption tax” versus an “income tax”. Anything consumed/purchased/etc is taxed 23%. Buy a banana for $1.00 and it costs $1.23, with $0.23 going to the government. Flat tax across the board for all citizens regardless of economic status. Spend more, pay more. Spend nothing (damn near impossible in today’s world), pay nothing. No income tax. No grave tax. No exemptions. No loopholes. Just a consumption tax.

Makes perfect sense to me.

I would wager that Gary is a blade man. He seems sensible in his libertarian ways. New Mexico re-elected him as a governor and they don’t seem worse for the wear.

The one nitpick I have is that everyone likes to pervert the word “Armageddon” to describe everything. They’re saying that on the 2nd of August, when the debt ceiling apparently will explode, that it’ll be Armageddon for the United States. Social Security payments will stop. By the way, that’s absolutely horrible and I think that anyone that paid into Social Security should absolutely get Social Security; perhaps we should lighten our foreign aid and take care of the people here in the U.S. until we get our ducks back in a row, but I could go on about that forever. Back to the Armageddon thing – please stop using that word to describe everything. 10 inches of snow is not Snowmageddon. The 405 being closed is not Carmageddon. A lack of venti cups at Starbucks is not Cappageddon. People, calm down with the “geddons”.

Anyways, I’m betting that most politicians currently in D.C. are electric razor users — grinding away at their chins twice a day so they look good for the public. Perhaps they should take their time and groom themselves properly in the morning so they can put their best face forward all day without having to sneak into the shadows to get ready for their next appearance.

And by the way, Alec never answered my question.

1 Bonus points to the person who picks up on the relatively obscure pop culture reference.

2 None of this refers to those that choose to be scruffy in any manner. That’s a whole separate topic in my world.

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Family.

Today is the 25th of July. That means that five months today people all over the world will be celebrating Christmas. The vast majority of them will be celebrating with family and friends in some manner.

This past weekend Earl and I made our way to a couple of family gatherings. Appropriately, we had a gathering on each side of my family. It was good to get together with my relatives. It was a nice reminder as to the good side of the world; there was much discussion about New York State’s new Marriage Equality law that went into effect yesterday. There were many questions as to when Earl and I would be taking the big step of legalizing our union. It still boggles my mind in a way that we are even talking about this. Perhaps I have been too cynical over the years.

The best thing about seeing the family over the weekend was the connecting aspect of it. If ever asked what I am thankful for, I will have a very long list to relate and one of the top five would be that I am a lucky man, for I have a family that really does love me.

I wish every family would show the warmth and acceptance that Earl and I enjoy from our families to their gay family members. Perhaps if we got beyond that little hurdle the world would be well on it’s way to becoming a much better place.

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