Life Is Such A Sweet Insanity.

I was cleaning up the basement this evening (after a lovely ride on my stationary bike), I came across some workout clothes, circa 1992, stored in a box. Surprisingly, these clothes have moved with me five times, but have not seen the light of day in quite a while.

First of all, I have to ask myself what the hell was I thinking. Did I think I could really go out and work up a good sweat in these things? I remember ordering the top from International Male. It was the red, white and blue top, cut much like a pirate’s shirt, complete with the laces in the front. The whole thing was extra short so my belly button peeked out. In 1992, more belly than button popped out under the thing so I didn’t really wear it much. It was suppose to make me feel energized about working out but instead it just made me feel ugly. And look like a third rate Captain America (or even a male wannabe Wonder Woman!). Where were the washboard abs that Brian Buzzini (it’s frightening that I remember the model’s name) showed under his Wonder Woman shirt? I liked to think that I was just built differently – you know the whole “fat and happy” motif where I must be absolutely hysterical. For some reason I packed it back away. Maybe cheesy chic will be in style again next decade.

By the way, if I’m going to be a superhero, I’m going to be something like Captain Marvel (Shazam) in a very snappy cape. Call me crazy – but spandex is hotter than a cotton pirate’s shirt anyday.

Anyways, then I came across the matching all-red cotton shorts. I tried them on, and they actually were kind of loose on me (yay!), but the cut was kind of weird. I don’t know why I picked red when I ordered these things, must be Brian was modeling red too. Besides, I feel much more comfortable in my black cycling shorts so I’ll stick to those.

It’s amazing how much things change in a decade. I had a flattop for a haircut. My computer was a blazing 386 and I was using the DOS version of AOL. I loved watching “Home Improvement” on Tuesday nights. My favorites song was “Happy” by Legacy of Sound. I remember spinning it over and over while I was DJ-ing. “Happy is happy is hap hap happy is what we are Happy iiiiiiiiss what we are when we’re together”. Now I find the song kind of silly. Though maybe in the right mood I’d go all breathless dance fever crazy over it again. I don’t think you’ll find me in the Brian Buzzini workout top any time soon though.

As I get closer to the first day of the new job, I can’t help but be filled with a constant feeling of anticipation. It’s sort of like waiting for the french fries to be covered in glorious ketchup, and since the high-class restaurant you’re sitting at only uses the best condiments, anticipation is making me wait.

Par for the course, I haven’t been this happy at my current job in years. I guess relieved of the on-going typical pressures and constant feeling of a treadmill, I can sit back and enjoy my final two weeks with the company I’ve worked with for the past ten years. Training is going along beautifully. I believe the transition will be smooth.

Earl and I kicked back this past weekend and did absolutely nothing. Well, almost. On Friday I was feeling a bit under the weather throughout the day, something wonky with my sinuses. So I took a few Tylenol daytime sinus symptom masking pills and went on with my business… conscious of the nagging sinus headache but dealing with it. I figured I would sleep it off Friday night. After work we joined my mom and sister, along with my aunt and uncle at Olive Garden (hey we always feel like family at Olive Garden), where we enjoyed wonderful conversation, acceptable food and friendly service. Of course, I couldn’t resist a glass of the Pino Bianco wine, which mixed wonderfully with the Tylenol Sinus Pills. Oops. On the ride home from the restaurant (Earl was driving), I got all emotional because Earl was such a wonderful driver and I didn’t appreciate it, the stars were speaking directly to me as they batted their eyelashes lovingly and how could anyone love a man that was abducted by aliens as a child. Earl has since begged me to never take any sort of sinus or allergy medicine because I get so spaced out and so odd that frankly it frightens him. As I look back on my childhood, these types of medication have always had this affect on me and at 36 years old you’d think I’d know better. To make it worse, I couldn’t sleep at all Friday night because I had Sylvia’s “Nobody” stuck in my head and couldn’t get it to stop, plus I was convinced that Agnes Moorhead would scold me in my dreams for drinking wine with allergy pills, I should have been drinking gin.

So for the remainder of the weekend, we did nothing but hang out at the house and watch a couple of Wonder Woman episodes from the new DVD set I got for my birthday. And I took about six naps throughout the day on Saturday.

Feeling better on Sunday, I did get a chance to get out on my bike, as there was a suggestion of sunshine and I was going to take advantage of it. I didn’t want to risk riding in traffic, as dizzy as I was from the sinus thing that was finally subsiding, so I stuck to the newly paved canal trails which was positively serene.

Today has been absolutely wonderful. The sinus wonkiness is gone, summer actually showed up for August, the pool gave up being green and things are going well. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

It’s official. Today I received the letter in the mail. Beginning August 16, I have a new job. I am now a Network Operations Technician for Northland Communications. I am absolutely thrilled!

I’ve been a customer of many forms of Northland Communications over the years. Earl and I were users of their ISP, Dreamscape. At the old house, we had Oneida County Telephone for our phone service. At one time at work, we had Northland for our phone provider, and still use Dreamscape for our internet connectivity. I’ve worked closely with these folks. And now I’m going to be working with these folks.

I’ve been doing radio for the past 12 years. I’ve spent the last 10 years with the same company, save for the short stint in the restaurant biz in ’99. In many ways, my co-workers and the owners of the station have been like family. This was a very tough step to take and it was a difficult decision to make. I’ve been on the air, I’ve written and produced commercials, I’ve sat on billboards for charity, I’ve worked behind the scenes and I’ve fought with stubborn transmitters at three in the morning. Did I enjoy it? Absolutely. But radio has changed in many ways over the past 10 years and quite frankly, I no longer have an interest in the industry. I want to listen to the radio to enjoy it, I don’t want to examine it for competitive purposes. And in my current position, I am a manager. I don’t want to supervise people anymore. My interests do not lie in management – I want to work with a team of like minded individuals in technology. I am looking forward to working with telephony customers. I am being one of the guys “behind the dial tone”. I can’t wait to take apart beepers and put them back together again. I can’t wait to add call waiting or call forwarding to a customer’s phone line. I’ll be working in an area of the company affectionately known as the heartbeat. Honestly, my heart races just thinking about it.

The next three weeks will be hectic as I train, train and cross-train others to do my current job. And then I’ll be in 100% learning mode.

The employment path ahead of me is the clearest it has been in over a decade. And I have to admit, I feel absolutely wonderful!

This morning I took the first step (well, a giant leap I suppose) on a new path. I made resolutions to myself during our vacation in June that I needed to change some aspects of my life. While I am a mostly happy-go-lucky guy, there were parts of my life that I was not enjoying, and I needed to change that. This morning, I solidified that change.

I’m deliberately being vague because people who need to know don’t, and I don’t know who’s reading my blog at any given moment. But Earl tells me that he couldn’t be prouder of me. I feel a sense of anticipation, awe and excitement as I begin this new chapter. I look back with a sort of wry smile, knowing that I enjoyed myself immensely, but it’s time to move on to this new challenge.

As I brace myself for a fun filled week at work (be sure to read about all that tomorrow night), I can’t help but reflect on some observations I’ve made.

It seems like there’s a lot of people in the world that just don’t want to think. They don’t want to take them time to reason why things are the way they are. They just accept what people tell them and take it at face value. Why? Fear? Laziness?

I’ve mentioned before that I am on a new path of spirituality. Now this doesn’t mean that I’ve become what I affectionately call a “Bible beater.” Oh no, no, no, quite the contrary, I think my path has taken me further than that. Now that statement would make some take pause. To me the Bible is a nice book of stories and a somewhat interesting read, but how can one take everything in there at face value? Incest was encouraged. Folks were enthusiastic about slavery. Women who were not virgins when they married were to be killed. Men were permitted to have babes on the side. And then there’s that mention of the whole gay thing being bad – how do we know that Leviticus wasn’t having a bad day because he had a fight with his lover and decided that he’d write something nasty about his boyfriend in the Bible and then it got all twisted around? And then there’s the folks that read the Bible and say “even though it says this, here’s what he really meant.” Oh really! Are you fluent in Aramaic? Do you have the original, unabridged version? Were you there? You don’t look a day over 1500!

I overheard a conversation not too long ago… two guys at work were arguing about whether Jesus Christ was a Christian or Catholic. What? Neither side of that conversation made any sense. What did he do, follow himself? That’d be like chasing his tail! The argument was because “Pastor” said that Jesus Christ was really a Christian, then he must be a Christian. Eeks! I think someone wasn’t paying attention somewhere at sometime. Blind Faith. It makes me crazy.

I guess I stop and think outside of the box because I’ve always been intrigued by the whole New Age arena – psychics, reincarnation, the paranormal, symbols, signs, nature, magick and witchcraft, the whole deal. I regularly read books and articles by Sylvia Browne (the psychic). I constantly scan for the presence of my spirit guide and deceased loved ones. I thank them for their help. I believe that I have reincarnated several dozen times (yes, Shirley McClaine and I hung out during the Middle Ages, or maybe it was the Industrial Revolution.) I watched John Edward when he had the dark colored set (didn’t like the later shows too much), Earl and I even saw him in person. Now this does not mean that I walk around looking in the shadows for dead people or that I talk to thin air. No, I’m much more discreet than that. And because I’m interested in these things, people think I don’t believe in God or whatever. Hardly. I do believe in an all-loving, all caring, all perfect God that’s all around us, in our hearts and minds, in the air, in the breeze, in nature. It’s this cranky guy that sits up on a throne that people fear that gets me crazy.

First of all, if we didn’t reincarnate, wouldn’t heaven eventually get rather crowded? And don’t tell me about hell. I don’t believe in the whole devil, bad guy, hell thing – I think that’s just a tactic to scare people so that you’ll invest more money in the church so you can be guaranteed a place in heaven. Why would an all loving, all perfect God condemn his (and/or her, depending on your beliefs) children to eternal damnation? That doesn’t make any sense. Do we think God likes us crawling around on our knees begging for forgiveness all the time? How would you like it if your child crawled up to you on his knees begging for your forgiveness, lest you lock them in the basement. Please. Hate and anger and all that is a human emotion. I bet that God has a sense of humor and laughs regularly about the whole thing, but is probably dismayed with the mess we’ve become.

I just think that people take this whole life thing way too seriously and too blindly. It’s simple – you’re born, you do good, you share your love, you learn what you can, then you shut up and go home. That’s it.

I wish people would stop and think. Focus on love. Not on hate. “You’re going to hell because you’re going to Planned Parenthood.” Oh – these abortion protestors are gems, aren’t they. They scream murder and then kill the doctors. “You’re going to hell because you love another man.” When the gay and lesbian couples married in San Francisco, et al, I didn’t see society come to a screeching halt. The sky did not cave. The world did not end. No horsemen rode in. And then there’s this one – “You aren’t children of God because you weren’t baptized correctly.” Try explaining to your six year old daughter why her teacher told her that one day. My mom was faced with that very problem a couple of decades ago. More hate. More control. (Being raised Methodist, my sister and I were “sprinkled”, not “dunked” when we were baptized.) Apparently, this didn’t sit well with the strict Baptist church down the street, where the teacher was the wife of the minister.) I don’t care if my mother had us climb a tree, light a candle and throw salt into the East wind while we prayed to God under a full moon naked – if we thought that ritual baptized us, then we were Baptized! By the way, did the ‘baptism’ include the molesting of young boys during piano lessons, or was that something else? (Not that I’m bitter – good thing I didn’t go to piano lessons that summer!)

My cousins Theresa and Charlie have had quite a problem finalizing the headstone for their daughter Lindsey, who passed away this past Christmas. Lindsey’s favorite saying was “The Best Is Yet To Come.”, and Theresa and Charlie wanted this inscribed on her headstone. The church wasn’t going to permit it. “Only passages from the Bible are allowed.” How cold. How callous. How unfeeling. Here they have lost their oldest daughter. They are still grieving and will grieve for the rest of their lives. Their family has been turned upside down and inside out. And we get a “tsk-tsk” from the church because they want a Sinatra phrase on her headstone, a phrase that gave Lindsey joy. The church eventually gave in and allowed the inscription – but only after many letters, pleas and tears. And this is loving? Again, it’s about control. To them, I say “tsk-tsk.”

I guess I’ve ranted enough tonight.

I’m doing something very rare right now and writing in my blog in the morning. I guess I’m feeling somewhat motivated today, which I hope will hold out throughout the day!

Yesterday was my 36th birthday. While many people my age would complain about getting older, their body falling part, etc., I must admit that I’m not suffering from any of that. I feel pretty good. I don’t look any worse for wear.

As a kid, I often wondered what it would be like for me in the year 2000 – imagine, I was going to be 32 years old at the turn of the century! Would I be happy? Where would I be? What would I be doing? Well, now here we are, well beyond the whole Y2K thing, and at 36 I must say that I’m pretty happy with my place in life.

My professional life is filled with opportunity and challenge. It makes it worth getting up in the morning. I feel proud of my accomplishments and anticipation and excitement for what lies ahead.

I’ve gone on about my love life many times in my blog, so we all know how happy I am in that department. Yesterday was no exception, between flowers being delivered, multiple Apple iCards by e-mail, phone calls from Earl on the road and quick, totally love motivated visits from my family, I certainly felt well loved on my birthday yesterday.

Yes, as I begin my 37th year, I realize that I probably should get a little more exercise, savor the moment a little better and enjoy life rather than bitch about it. But all in all, this gig ain’t half bad.

I am writing this blog entry at Tinseltown Theaters outside of Rochester. Earl took me to P.F. Chang’s for my birthday dinner — a couple days early because he’s going to be out of town Tuesday night. Dinner was wonderful. Chinese is my absolute favorite type of cuisine. It was one of our better dinner experiences.

We arc now waiting to see “King Arthur” in the IMAX theater. It should be a good movie.

Earlier today we did some clothes shopping. I made a conscious effort to buy more aggressive colors — per suggestions on “Queer Eye”. I’m trying to dress more stylishly and less drab. Tonight I wore sandals with my khakis. I believe this was a first for me.

Earl also bought me a GPS for my PocketPC to make navigating our road trips more technologically advanced. I can’t wait to hit the road again.

As I ready myself for 36, I can’t help but to count my blessings and look forward to the future.

I’m waxing all poetic here. I think the Sake Martinis from dinner are talking.

With Earl out of town on business this week, I suppose I’ve been living the bachelor life a little bit. Now I’m not talking about having a bunch of guys over and getting wild like The Village People – no I’m talking about being lazy and kickin’ back.

I’ve recently started watching reruns of Green Acres off our ReplayTV. To give the experience a little bachelor kick, I’ve been sitting in the family room in my underwear drinking soda with my hands down my pants while I do it. I’m sure the neighbors enjoy the view, what with our floor to ceiling windows in the front of the house. Now that I think about it, I think I usually watch television in my underwear drinking soda. But I usually have my hands down Ea..,er, we won’t go there.

Instead of doing the responsible thing for supper tonight, I ate a whole container of taboule and hummus. That’s sort of cosmopolitan bachelor, eating Middle Eastern cuisine. I hope that doesn’t make me a terrorist. After digesting a round of taboule though, I can understand why there’s no peace in the middle east. Maybe that’s the weapon of mass destruction. Taboule. God knows I would try to bury it in the sand if given the chance.

Last night, I was more bawdy with my supper selection. I ate my weight in Earl’s left over “Oklahoma Stockyard Beans”. I’m still paying the price today for that one, but damn it was good.

Maybe tomorrow for lunch I’ll have a bowl of popcorn and a beer. I haven’t been drunk at work in a while. Might as well end the week on a high note.

With my birthday just around the corner, I find it to be a wonderful opportunity to try to get a handle on my life and make a full assessment of what the heck is going on around me

It’s not that my life is a mess. For an almost 36 year old, I’ve got it pretty good. A loving partner. A beautiful home. A stable, comfortable, if not insanely hectic career. A wonderful family and a group of friends that accept me for who and what I am. I wonder why I think I have to make myself over more times than Madonna Esther.

It was about this time 14 years ago that I became adamant in being called J.P. The “J” in “J.P.” standa for my given name, John. In that respect, I’m named after my father. The “P.” in J.P. stands for Patrick, given to me because I was born with red hair and my mother wanted a named to match my seemingly Irish looks. Rumor has it that she wanted to name me Christopher John, but my father thought that was too gay sounding. (Go figure.) He wanted to name me Wesley Walter. Egads, I’m already a geek. Can you imagine if I was a geek named Wesley Walter? I just can’t see myself in horned rimmed, masking taped together glasses.

So my folks settled on John Patrick, my sister and cousins settled on “Johnny”. To this day, I cringe if I’m called Johnny, save for any member of my family and that is simply because I’m used to it from them. My father was called Johnny by his aunt when he was 35 or so and I thought that was just silly and I wasn’t going to let that happen to me. My grandfather has always called me J.P., to differentiate me from my father. Actually he called me Mike-Nat-Eric-J.P., going through the more local of my male cousins until he got the name right, much like he called my father Jim-John and my uncle John-Jim. Sometimes he’d refer to me as “that damn J.P.” but that’s usually when I was doing something foolish like locking the keys to the safe in the safe. And I’ve mentioned Earl’s family with the K.T., Z.R, B.J., P.J. stuff, which I find cute.

But I digress.

Lately I haven’t been correcting people when they call me “John”, like at the bank or at the doctor’s office. I’ve sort of been enjoying being called John again. My name is John. J.P. is almost a fictional character I made up for this charade called life. J.P. was my stage name, sort of like the Queer Eye guy Kyan being called Kyan when his real name is Eddie.

I started using J.P. regularly when I was making a name for myself in radio. I really looked up to a local radio D.J. and he called himself J.R. In fact, it was J.R. that gave me my first big break in radio. But after that station folded, I moved on and “J.P.” stuck – and then I started insisting that everyone call me “J.P.” I thought it sounded more mysterious or something. As John I was boring, as J.P. I was dynamic. Whatever.

So now I sit back and take stock of what’s really important. I like to think that I don’t need to be on stage all the time. For the past couple of months I’ve been looking for a simpler life. Slowed down. Enjoyed. Relished. Savored. And I think I’ve discovered something.

J.P. is dynamic. But John is pretty cool too.

It’s always hard to go back to work after a long weekend. Especially since I’m convinced that my body wants to live on Central Time and I live in the Eastern Time zone. I do so much better getting up for work at 8:30, but no, that’s not possible. I have to get up at 7:00 so that I’m somewhat presentable for the office by 8:30.

You wouldn’t think that one extra day tacked onto a weekend would make that big of a difference when it came to going back to work, but of course it makes a huge difference.

The pool is beckoning for a morning swim. Can’t do that, I’ve got to get ready for work.

Tom wants to bask in the sunlight on the front porch. Sorry buddy, you’ve got to be locked in the while your two daddies are at work.

I’d like to eat my way through the refrigerator, but it’s the work week pal, gotta get back to eating healthy.

Fortunately, I was able to break up my work day with a lively visit to the doctor’s office today. Seems I have an infection ‘down below’ again. I have the most sensitive urinary track known to the human race. I think he prescribed a cranberry juice IV. Actually, another round of antibiotics. He also scolded me for my run as a vegetarian. “Humans are meant to eat meat and you’ve thrown your system out of whack. Eat some ribs. Eat some hamburger. Enjoy a steak.” Since he’s in good shape, and cute to boot, he must be right so I made a mental note NOT to try vegetarianism again and see what happens. You can always trust a guy that gives out free pills.

Then tonight I attended a birthday party for my dad… it was good fun to get together with the family. There’s another gathering on Sunday… my relatives are up from Florida, including my cousin, her husband and two children who recently returned from a missionary, uh, mission in Yemen. I haven’t seen her in six or seven years, I’ve never met her husband and I’ve never seen her kids. I look forward to seeing them on Sunday, along with the rest of the crew. Everyone seems to be in a jovial mood when the family gets together.

Earl is dashing around the northeast on business again. After spending the day in New Jersey, he’s actually spending the night at home tonight, before heading out to Ohio for the rest of the week. I can’t wait until the weekend so we can spend some quality time together.