I took another trip up north to do some computer work. The drive home was about 90 minutes of summer breezes and sunshine. I opted for the less traveled county routes and reveled in the corn fields flying by, the wind blowing through the car and the sunny mood I was feeling.
Life is good.
There are two traits that I admire in people. Actually, that’s not quite accurate; I admire many things in people but there are two primary traits that I truly enjoy. One of them is charisma, which I consider to be a natural extension of self confidence. Not all self confident people are charismatic but most charismatic people are self confident. Let’s face it, some people are over confident. I don’t mind a touch of cocky (and we all know that I don’t mind a dash of arrogance) but I don’t care for self absorption or assholishness. Charisma though, that makes me swoon.
The other trait that I admire in a person is a lack of inhibition. I enjoy people that feel the freedom to do their own thing without reservation. It’s a trait I wish I had but in the back of my mind there’s something, though I can’t identify what it is, always holding me back even if it’s just a little bit. My throttle is usually at 3/4 power, sometimes I ramp up to 7/8 but I rarely cruise at full speed.
I don’t know why I have this touch of inhibition residing in my makeup. I’ve analysed it six ways from Sunday for the past 40 years but have never figured out where it comes from. I guess that’s not entirely accurate either, there are certain events in my past that hit home: in grade six I was described as “weird” by a couple of classmates. They said that after I performed in a school production of Battlestar Galactica. I guess I took “alien” too close to heart or something. I don’t know why that bothers me, I am odd. Today I celebrate that. But once in a while I have that little barrier I put up to keep my psyche safe.
I have a friend who used to perform in various talent shows in the area. Her singing voice is good; she can carry a note, she can stay within the key of the song and she has a good sense of rhythm. Would she make it on a Broadway stage? No. But when she gets up there and does her thing she puts every single drop of effort she has into her performance. I admire that. I always hold off just a bit. “What if they don’t like me?” Perhaps I’m afraid of failing and reliving that moment when I sang my heart out for a recital in college and I was told that I would never make it as a singer. I think my performance inhibition comes from that battle scar. I should strive to move beyond that.
Tonight I found myself singing Abba tunes as we left the theatre at the end of “Mamma Mia”. I started singing softly and slowly but surely I sang loud enough for the large group of elderly women to hear me. I didn’t want to intrude in anyway, I wanted to express my joy from the movie through song. And so I sang. No one said a word, good or bad.
I took that as a compliment.
The local Linens and Things store is closing. This is a bad thing because it’s the closest store to our house in the event of a linens or things emergency. Being gay men we must keep our house well decorated at all times. Linens and Things helps out with this.
Earl and I browsed through the store closing sale items, where the junk from other stores has been shipped here for quick sale. I’m sure the good stuff has been shipped to stores that aren’t closing. Nevertheless, we spent $250 on various items.
Because of our visit to Linens and Things I must admit that I’m overly excited about going to bed tonight. We bought a “pillow top” mattress cover for our bed. I’m hoping this improves conditions in our bed to the point that I can easily drift off to peaceful sleep. Our mattress gets flipped quarterly as we were instructed when we purchased it five years ago. Earl is the bigger of the two of us. Ironically, I have the deeper trench on my side of the bed. I don’t know why this is. We can flip the mattress up, down, left, right, north, south and no matter which way it ends up there I am sleeping in a ditch while Earl relaxes up on the mountain. I don’t know why this is. I’m hoping the new pillow top mattress cover remedies this. It has memory foam embedded into the pad. I don’t plan on drinking any red wine in bed though1.
We also purchased a new pillow for me. I think my current pillow was from 1986. Perhaps it was a graduation present from a relative or something. It was flat like a newspaper but it didn’t leave stains on my skin or anything like that. Now that I have a fluffy pillow again, I can wrap my arms around my old pillow. I have an odd way of sleeping: one leg must be outside the covers, the covers must be up to my shoulders and I bury myself into a little fort like area where I feel protected. Maybe I had an encounter with the boogieman some time in my past.
I go through this every year when I start cycling again. The second day is the hardest day to get back on the bike, especially if it’s been a while since I’ve ridden. My muscles are complaining a little bit but my body is adjusting to my return to exercise.
When I ride familiar routes I go into autopilot and my mind goes into daydream mode. I think of so many different things. I’m instinctively aware of what’s going on around me but my mind is elsewhere, occasionally searching mundane subjects; I’m thinking of ways to improve the road I’m on or I’m thinking of ways to increase productivity at work. Sometimes I get creative and think of a topic for a blog entry or an idea for a series of video podcasts pops into my head. Before I know it I’m trudging up the hill to the house. The last mile is the hardest, it’s always uphill. Both ways. In the snow.
He had been patiently waiting in the corner. There he sat, watching, knowing that his turn was coming. We were well acquainted. We’d spent many years together. This year would be no different, no matter how much I tried.
I finally came to his corner and extended my hand. I literally carried him up the stairs, where we would get reacquainted this year. We reminisced a little bit as I dressed to do the deed: “Remember when we helped those kids?” “How about the time they stared at us at Northern Lights Circle?” I spruced him up and he stood tall. I sat on his saddle and clamped myself in.
It was time to go for a ride.
As we danced on the pavement together, he softly reminded me that as Agnes Moorehead said several times during the series she’s most remembered for, “We are quicksilver, a flash of color, a fleeting sound. Our home has no boundaries beyond which we can not pass.” My body reveled and I could feel his smile beneath me. Tears streamed down my face.
In May 2000, at 221 pounds I rode six miles. I thought I would die.
In July 2008, at 189 pounds I rode sixteen miles. And I reveled in life.
It’s good to be a cyclist once again.
[MEDIA=70]Here’s a random thought that popped into my head during “I Love Lucy” (which was another rerun!) Imagine being an aspiring singer. You want to hit the big time and have adoring fans as you grace the world with your melodious voice. American Idol isn’t good enough for you, you’re going to make it big, big, big like Jessica Simpson or Debbie Boone. Maybe Wayne Newton.
Wouldn’t it be quite the detour to be known as the guy that sings the rockin’ tune “1-2-3 LUMP SUM”. Oh sure, you can disguise it as a trendy pop tune, but in reality, it’s just “1-2-3 LUMP SUM! 1-2-3 LUMP SUM.”
Big time.
This past weekend Earl and I attended the graduation party of my cousin’s daughter. Naturally the question that was asked the most often was where she was going to go to college and what she planned on studying. She is going to become a pet psychologist. I give her credit for knowing what she wants to do with her life. I wish her luck.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m odd or what but at 40 years old I don’t know that I’ve settled in to what I want to do with the rest of my life. I probably have but then again I’ve changed careers a couple of times: I worked for a computer company. I’ve been a radio DJ. I work in technology again. I’ve worked with the developmentally disabled. I went to school for music education. I went to school for civil engineering. Don’t get me wrong, I like what I do. I like it a lot. And I’m pretty confident that I could do this for the rest of my life. I might need a change of scenery along the way but all in all my gig is pretty good.
I sometimes wonder if we put too much pressure on those entering adulthood by expecting them to know what they want to do for the rest of their life and then expect them to pay bucketloads of money in education, only to find out that it isn’t their cup of tea 10 years later. I know people that have changed careers as many times as I have and they’re very happy with their life. When I was in college there were several in my classes that had no idea what they were getting themselves into as civil engineers, it just sounded good in the college catalog so they signed up for it. They did their best but the lack of enthusiasm was apparent. They were told that they had to go to college and that was that. If they had just been given the chance to “find themselves”, I’m pretty confident that they wouldn’t have chosen the career path they were on.
Now, I’m not knocking my cousin’s daughter’s decision to become a pet psychologist. No, not at all. She knows what she wants to do and I think that’s wonderful! My point is that I don’t think we can expect each and every person to know what they want to do out of school. The New York State education system tends to test the hell out of every student these days and it also places what I feel to be unrealistic expectations on some students. The system sets many up for failure. Not everyone is hard-wired for continuing education. I’ve met many people that could barely write their name legibly and perform simple algebra, but they could assemble, disassemble and reassemble a V8 engine in a different car in less than a day. They did horribly in school and ended up not getting a diploma because of a fear of testing. However, they were given some room, a second chance via a GED and they now own a very successful auto repair shop.
Some people can clearly see the path that lies ahead. Others find twists and turns along the way. I think the most important thing is to recognise individuality and to celebrate that. If society allowed more of this exploration along the way, perhaps we’d have a happier society today.
This morning Earl was off to work early. He preceded his usual good-bye morning kiss with a loud, booming announcement, “You don’t look a day over 40!” Since it was 5:30 in the morning I was still very much asleep when he shared his observation.. It was then that I remembered that I’m 40 now. And I’m pretty much over it. Let’s get on with it.
I’m using the occasion as a launchpad for a couple of ideas that I’ve been floating around in my head again. I’m attempting to be a vegetarian again. This is my third attempt at being a vegetarian; I’m hoping that the third time is a charm. Becoming vegetarian is an attempt to better my eating habits though we all know that a vegetarian can easily eat unhealthy by doing things such as eating an entire bag of Doritos and a pound of potato salad for supper.
Not that I’ve done that before or anything.
I’m thinking of trying a recipe for a barbecue salad. It was basically a tossed salad that you barbecued, hence the name. I saw it on the Food Network years ago and I jotted it down somewhere. I just need to locate my notes or Google it again.
We spent yesterday at a family reunion of sorts, my cousin’s daughter graduated from high school and it was her graduation party. It was very enjoyable; we hung out with all of my city cousins and the rest of the family. Even though it was raining like crazy for much of the afternoon we still made the best of it under the tents my uncle had put up earlier in the morning.
So now I’m doing to work thing with a good attitude. Life is good. Regardless of the number attached to the year.
Today is my birthday. And I am going to type this with a strong, confident voice: It was FORTY years ago today that I made my first appearance. That’s right, as of today I am officially 40 years old. My parents were young when I was born: my Dad had just turned 21, my Mom was 20. I am the oldest of two. My sister is two years and five days younger than me.
Back when I was in my early 20s I thought I was on top of the world and knew everything. Looking back, which was halfway to this moment, I realise that life has only gotten better as time has moved on, because NOW is when I feel like I’m on top of the world. Life is grand and I have no complaints. I complain from time to time, but that’s all trivial stuff. It’s bellyaching that I really shouldn’t indulge in.
Looking through pictures last night I found a couple of shots from various birthdays. I thought I would share them. First up is 1974. This is my sixth birthday party and if memory serves correctly I was sharing the party with my sister, who was celebrating her fourth. We had a few friends and distant cousins over for the festivities. I’m the one with red hair. My sister is sitting to my left. My mom is taking the picture, that’s a cousin once removed on my father’s side helping out with the festivities.
Next up is 1978. In the late 1970s my father was taking lessons to become a private pilot, so most of our Sunday afternoons in the summer were spent at the local airfield. If you look closely you can see a Cessna 172 parked in the background. We’d have a picnic with the pilots association and my sister and I would join our airport friends climbing trees or scaling the wall between airplane hangers or picking wild strawberries along the runway. The woman making sure I’m not falling off the picnic table is named Lavinia. We called her Vinnie. I always thought that her named implied an southern accent, but I don’t recall her having one. There’s felt tip marker marks all over the photo. That sometimes happens.
In 1991 I worked for The Resource Center in a community residence for developmentally disabled adults. I worked on my 23rd birthday and then went out to the local bar that night alone. The folks at Hunt Road CR had a little birthday cake for me; here I’m given my birthday kiss by one of the ladies that lived there.
In 1997 Earl and I drove to Walt Disney World that July. We ended up at his folks on the way home right around my birthday. I was turning 29 years old. We were a little more than a year into our relationship and still getting to know each other. The honeymoon lingers on today.
I feel great as I start this new decade of my life. I’m looking forward to what lies ahead.
Just a guy with a husband. We’ve been together 28 years and he still makes me see fireworks on a daily basis. Hiker. Storm Chaser. Private Pilot. Tech Guy. Hackerish.
Weird? Eccentric!