Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Mission Accomplished!
Question asked, answer given. Our first date will be on Halloween. I'm not sure if that's odd. My first relationship started on Halloween 8 years ago. I'm pretty excited!
Walk On
Someone recently told me that I write better when I’m happy. I suppose that makes sense. Being angry and bitter doesn’t really suite me. I’m more of a hopeful optimist. I guess it’s sort of my “thing.” So, on that note – here is a happy feel good blog with a healthy dose of nostalgia mixed in for good measure. Course, I say that but I have no idea what will actually come out in this blog. I’ll do my best to keep it upbeat!
I went home this weekend to see my family and to pack up some of my things from my childhood room. My parents are building a new house and I’m losing “my” room. It’s probably time. It’s stayed mostly unchanged for 8 years. I’m a pretty nostalgic person so I expected for this to be a lot more traumatizing than it actually was. I hate letting go, “growing up,” and that sort of thing. And yet, my biggest issue was simply figuring out where I would put all that stuff. I brought back several boxes of books, a shelf, a box of Hotwheels, a tub of Legos and two boxes of dishes – and that was only a small percentage of all the stuff I have to find a place for.
Going home to Moorcroft was an odd experience for me this time. I’m not sure why it struck me so hard this particular trip, but I have completely outgrown that town. It has nothing to offer me and going there is almost like time traveling. I went to the grocery store with my mom and it was such an odd experience. She remarked about how they carried bowtie pasta now (apparently they didn’t before and she would have to buy it in Gillette, 30 miles away). I noticed that the produce section was smaller than the lettuce section in most grocery stores and that they had a big canning section. I noticed 50 pound bags of potatoes. I noticed items that I was unaware anyone had used in years and that I don’t normally see in most stores. Everything there was geared at a much slower lifestyle, which is great but somehow seemed very odd to me.
There was also this really odd incident where my mom ran into another mom at the store. I was there with my mom and they said hello to each other and the other mom looked right at me and said “Is Kirby home too.” Then she went on to talk about her kids and to ask all sorts of questions about my brother, but completely ignored me. Have I become the black sheep of Moorcroft? Am I now the social pariah? I’ve never really fit in but it’s just small town courtesy to ask about all of someone’s kids, not just one. I was a nice kid in high school. Moms liked me. I was the freaking prom king for crying out loud. I’ve gone on to do a lot of really great things since high school and I don’t have to prove anything to some stupid small town mom looking down her nose to me. I really mean it though; I’m not hurt or upset about this incident. I would barely even call it an incident. I had no interest in her or her kids so why should I expect her to care about me? It’s also entirely possible that I imagined the entire thing. Either way, I guess it’s good to realize that I’ve moved on and the world I’ve created for myself in no way resembles the world I once lived in. It’s not a bad thing; it’s just the nature of life.
This seems considerably less “hopeful” and “happy” than I planned on. So, moving on!
Work stuff is about the same as always. I’m pretty much bored to tears while I’m at work about 80% of the time, which is why I do things like write long blogs as I’m working. But even though I’m bored and my job is completely unsatisfying, it is still a job, it pays well, it can sometimes be interesting, and I like the people I work with. Things could be a lot worse. I did apply for a couple other jobs last week, one here, one elsewhere. I feel good about them and I think I’ll be given at least one offer and even if I don’t get either job, there is nothing wrong with this one. I just feel like it’s time for more.
I mentioned in a past blog (I think) that I plan on asking someone out. I haven’t done it yet but it’s going to happen in the very near future. I’m a little scared to be honest. This guy seems to have no internet presence at all so I know very little about him. I’m used to doing my “research” before going out with someone. Read a profile or two, look at pictures, read an “about me” essay, chat a few times… that sort of thing. I guess this is how dating worked in the past. It scares me but I think I like it. A mutual friend has been helping to facilitate the entire process and has spoken to each of us. Wow, that makes it sound like she’s negotiating some sort of treaty or something! I guess the moral of the story is that I don’t really know him but he comes highly recommended by someone I trust and I’m kind of excited about the prospect of getting to know someone in person!
But, since my life is weird, awkward, and complicated… I had coffee with a friend last night. He’s a nice guy and if situations were slightly different I would date him in a second but as it is our relationship looks something like this: We have coffee about once a month, we chat and have a nice time and then it’s another month before I hear anything at all from him. It’s a little odd but it works, at least for now. But last night seemed different somehow. We had a really nice chat for over two hours and I couldn’t help but notice that almost all of our random conversations really pointed out that we have a lot in common. Nothing was different than it ever had been, but at the same thing everything had changed. It had the feel of a date. At one point he asked me if we could “go out” sometime in the near future. We also made a lot of odd offhand future plans. “Oh, you’ve never done such-and-such? Well, sometime I’ll have to take you to do that.” I think we have plans to have dinner on either Friday or Saturday but I honestly have no idea if that’s going to really happen. Very unexpected and odd.
When it rains, it pours. I could go weeks or months without going on a single date and then all at once two or three guys will suddenly get interested in me all at once and then there is usually some random awkward stuff mixed in for good measure. I suppose it should be flattering, but it’s just weird and complicated. Well, this time I’m not going to worry about it. A date does not equal a relationship and I can date as many people as I want until I decide one should be more. No sense in shutting a door when you’re not sure where you’re going!
I’ve been obsessed with The Weepies lately. I’m going to end with the lyrics to Can’t Go Back Now.
Yesterday, when you were young,
Everything you needed done was done for you.
Now you do it on your own
But you find you're all alone,
What can you do?
You and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now.
You know there will be days when you're so tired that you can't take another step,
The night will have no stars and you'll think you've gone as far as you will ever get
But you and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now
And yeah, yeah, go where you want to go
Be what you want to be,
If you ever turn around, you'll see me.
I can't really say why everybody wishes they were somewhere else
But in the end, the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself
And you and me walk on
Yeah you and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now
Walk on, walk on, walk on
You can't go back now
I went home this weekend to see my family and to pack up some of my things from my childhood room. My parents are building a new house and I’m losing “my” room. It’s probably time. It’s stayed mostly unchanged for 8 years. I’m a pretty nostalgic person so I expected for this to be a lot more traumatizing than it actually was. I hate letting go, “growing up,” and that sort of thing. And yet, my biggest issue was simply figuring out where I would put all that stuff. I brought back several boxes of books, a shelf, a box of Hotwheels, a tub of Legos and two boxes of dishes – and that was only a small percentage of all the stuff I have to find a place for.
Going home to Moorcroft was an odd experience for me this time. I’m not sure why it struck me so hard this particular trip, but I have completely outgrown that town. It has nothing to offer me and going there is almost like time traveling. I went to the grocery store with my mom and it was such an odd experience. She remarked about how they carried bowtie pasta now (apparently they didn’t before and she would have to buy it in Gillette, 30 miles away). I noticed that the produce section was smaller than the lettuce section in most grocery stores and that they had a big canning section. I noticed 50 pound bags of potatoes. I noticed items that I was unaware anyone had used in years and that I don’t normally see in most stores. Everything there was geared at a much slower lifestyle, which is great but somehow seemed very odd to me.
There was also this really odd incident where my mom ran into another mom at the store. I was there with my mom and they said hello to each other and the other mom looked right at me and said “Is Kirby home too.” Then she went on to talk about her kids and to ask all sorts of questions about my brother, but completely ignored me. Have I become the black sheep of Moorcroft? Am I now the social pariah? I’ve never really fit in but it’s just small town courtesy to ask about all of someone’s kids, not just one. I was a nice kid in high school. Moms liked me. I was the freaking prom king for crying out loud. I’ve gone on to do a lot of really great things since high school and I don’t have to prove anything to some stupid small town mom looking down her nose to me. I really mean it though; I’m not hurt or upset about this incident. I would barely even call it an incident. I had no interest in her or her kids so why should I expect her to care about me? It’s also entirely possible that I imagined the entire thing. Either way, I guess it’s good to realize that I’ve moved on and the world I’ve created for myself in no way resembles the world I once lived in. It’s not a bad thing; it’s just the nature of life.
This seems considerably less “hopeful” and “happy” than I planned on. So, moving on!
Work stuff is about the same as always. I’m pretty much bored to tears while I’m at work about 80% of the time, which is why I do things like write long blogs as I’m working. But even though I’m bored and my job is completely unsatisfying, it is still a job, it pays well, it can sometimes be interesting, and I like the people I work with. Things could be a lot worse. I did apply for a couple other jobs last week, one here, one elsewhere. I feel good about them and I think I’ll be given at least one offer and even if I don’t get either job, there is nothing wrong with this one. I just feel like it’s time for more.
I mentioned in a past blog (I think) that I plan on asking someone out. I haven’t done it yet but it’s going to happen in the very near future. I’m a little scared to be honest. This guy seems to have no internet presence at all so I know very little about him. I’m used to doing my “research” before going out with someone. Read a profile or two, look at pictures, read an “about me” essay, chat a few times… that sort of thing. I guess this is how dating worked in the past. It scares me but I think I like it. A mutual friend has been helping to facilitate the entire process and has spoken to each of us. Wow, that makes it sound like she’s negotiating some sort of treaty or something! I guess the moral of the story is that I don’t really know him but he comes highly recommended by someone I trust and I’m kind of excited about the prospect of getting to know someone in person!
But, since my life is weird, awkward, and complicated… I had coffee with a friend last night. He’s a nice guy and if situations were slightly different I would date him in a second but as it is our relationship looks something like this: We have coffee about once a month, we chat and have a nice time and then it’s another month before I hear anything at all from him. It’s a little odd but it works, at least for now. But last night seemed different somehow. We had a really nice chat for over two hours and I couldn’t help but notice that almost all of our random conversations really pointed out that we have a lot in common. Nothing was different than it ever had been, but at the same thing everything had changed. It had the feel of a date. At one point he asked me if we could “go out” sometime in the near future. We also made a lot of odd offhand future plans. “Oh, you’ve never done such-and-such? Well, sometime I’ll have to take you to do that.” I think we have plans to have dinner on either Friday or Saturday but I honestly have no idea if that’s going to really happen. Very unexpected and odd.
When it rains, it pours. I could go weeks or months without going on a single date and then all at once two or three guys will suddenly get interested in me all at once and then there is usually some random awkward stuff mixed in for good measure. I suppose it should be flattering, but it’s just weird and complicated. Well, this time I’m not going to worry about it. A date does not equal a relationship and I can date as many people as I want until I decide one should be more. No sense in shutting a door when you’re not sure where you’re going!
I’ve been obsessed with The Weepies lately. I’m going to end with the lyrics to Can’t Go Back Now.
Yesterday, when you were young,
Everything you needed done was done for you.
Now you do it on your own
But you find you're all alone,
What can you do?
You and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now.
You know there will be days when you're so tired that you can't take another step,
The night will have no stars and you'll think you've gone as far as you will ever get
But you and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now
And yeah, yeah, go where you want to go
Be what you want to be,
If you ever turn around, you'll see me.
I can't really say why everybody wishes they were somewhere else
But in the end, the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself
And you and me walk on
Yeah you and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now
Walk on, walk on, walk on
You can't go back now
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Advanced Dreaming
Apparently October is paranormal month in my blog. To continue that theme…
Dreams are odd things to me. I really like having dreams and not to toot my own horn but I’m really good at it! Someone once told me that most people aren’t able to dream in color. I’m not sure if that’s true. Most people I’ve asked either know for certain that they can or simply had never thought about it before. My dreams are typically in full color but sometimes only certain colors are accentuated. I assume when that happens my brain is trying to tell me something through that color. I also recall being able to smell and feel things in my dreams, which seems slightly unusual but might also be more common than I know. Most importantly, I’m able to stop, pause, and rewrite dreams. It’s like having a tivo in my head! Usually when I’m having a dream some small part of me is still conscious of what’s going on and knows that I am dreaming. If I am really enjoying a dream but something wakes me up unexpectedly, I can sometimes go back into the dream and sometimes if I don’t like what is going on I can either wake myself up or change the outcome of the dream. I rarely have nightmares and when I do they are rarely ever set up in my head to convey an event taking place, but instead it’s just a feeling of dread or sorrow that creeps into my sleep without any sort of image or sound to go with it. It’s sort of hard to explain.
Last night I had a dream about my husband. As far as I know, I’ve not yet met him, at least not in person (but I could be wrong). I have met him on the dreamscape at least twice. The first time we were standing in a park in the dark sort of slow dancing. I couldn’t see his face but at the time it didn’t matter, I knew who he was. It’s like when you go to sleep with your significant other next to you. If you wake up in the middle of the night you don’t need to verify who is in bed with you, you just know who it is – it’s the same in my dreams. Early this morning I met him again. This time we were in some huge beautiful art museum/ archive. I knew where I was at the time and knew I worked there but now that I’m awake, I couldn’t tell you where it is or if it even exists in real life. I was giving him a tour. This time I could see his face but my mind assigned a name to him and it was the name of someone I knew, so he took on some warped characteristics of that person. This happened the first time also. It was the same guy both times but each time I called him by a different name and he took on slightly different characteristics to match the name I called him. I think this was just my way of explaining who he was even though he physically didn’t look anything like either of the guys whose name I called him. I doubt that that makes sense… My brain knew he was my husband, but my brain also knew that I hadn’t yet met him and therefore couldn’t possibly know who he was so it inserted the name of someone important to me each time so that the character could exist in my sleep-mind without question. It’s very strange. I can describe his build and height, the color and cut of his hair, and I would even recognize his cologne if I smelled it again but I couldn’t tell you what his face looks like or what his name is. In this dream he was a writer or maybe a researcher or teacher of some sort. The first dream was years ago and it took place shortly after we were married and we had been together for a while. I believe the dream I had this morning was a recollection/ premonition of our first date.
I honestly don’t know if I believe any of what I just said. I suppose there could be some truth to it. I suppose the guy in my dream was a subconscious construct of all the traits and characteristics I want in a guy. I suppose it’s also possible that my dreams have some measure of prophetic value. I might meet that specific guy some day while I’m working in an art museum or an archive. It is more likely that it was all simply symbolic. I currently work in an archive adjoined to an art museum and I would give a tour of the building to someone I was dating. Also, yesterday I applied for a job in an art museum and I was thinking about giving a tour to a friend that is coming to visit in a couple of weeks, who happens to be a writer. Maybe this was my brain’s way of sorting things out. Who knows. But I remember the feel of his hand in mine, the smell of his cologne as he leaned in close to me, and the way I felt about him. He was obviously important and someone I knew. It was a very powerful dream.
Dreams are odd things to me. I really like having dreams and not to toot my own horn but I’m really good at it! Someone once told me that most people aren’t able to dream in color. I’m not sure if that’s true. Most people I’ve asked either know for certain that they can or simply had never thought about it before. My dreams are typically in full color but sometimes only certain colors are accentuated. I assume when that happens my brain is trying to tell me something through that color. I also recall being able to smell and feel things in my dreams, which seems slightly unusual but might also be more common than I know. Most importantly, I’m able to stop, pause, and rewrite dreams. It’s like having a tivo in my head! Usually when I’m having a dream some small part of me is still conscious of what’s going on and knows that I am dreaming. If I am really enjoying a dream but something wakes me up unexpectedly, I can sometimes go back into the dream and sometimes if I don’t like what is going on I can either wake myself up or change the outcome of the dream. I rarely have nightmares and when I do they are rarely ever set up in my head to convey an event taking place, but instead it’s just a feeling of dread or sorrow that creeps into my sleep without any sort of image or sound to go with it. It’s sort of hard to explain.
Last night I had a dream about my husband. As far as I know, I’ve not yet met him, at least not in person (but I could be wrong). I have met him on the dreamscape at least twice. The first time we were standing in a park in the dark sort of slow dancing. I couldn’t see his face but at the time it didn’t matter, I knew who he was. It’s like when you go to sleep with your significant other next to you. If you wake up in the middle of the night you don’t need to verify who is in bed with you, you just know who it is – it’s the same in my dreams. Early this morning I met him again. This time we were in some huge beautiful art museum/ archive. I knew where I was at the time and knew I worked there but now that I’m awake, I couldn’t tell you where it is or if it even exists in real life. I was giving him a tour. This time I could see his face but my mind assigned a name to him and it was the name of someone I knew, so he took on some warped characteristics of that person. This happened the first time also. It was the same guy both times but each time I called him by a different name and he took on slightly different characteristics to match the name I called him. I think this was just my way of explaining who he was even though he physically didn’t look anything like either of the guys whose name I called him. I doubt that that makes sense… My brain knew he was my husband, but my brain also knew that I hadn’t yet met him and therefore couldn’t possibly know who he was so it inserted the name of someone important to me each time so that the character could exist in my sleep-mind without question. It’s very strange. I can describe his build and height, the color and cut of his hair, and I would even recognize his cologne if I smelled it again but I couldn’t tell you what his face looks like or what his name is. In this dream he was a writer or maybe a researcher or teacher of some sort. The first dream was years ago and it took place shortly after we were married and we had been together for a while. I believe the dream I had this morning was a recollection/ premonition of our first date.
I honestly don’t know if I believe any of what I just said. I suppose there could be some truth to it. I suppose the guy in my dream was a subconscious construct of all the traits and characteristics I want in a guy. I suppose it’s also possible that my dreams have some measure of prophetic value. I might meet that specific guy some day while I’m working in an art museum or an archive. It is more likely that it was all simply symbolic. I currently work in an archive adjoined to an art museum and I would give a tour of the building to someone I was dating. Also, yesterday I applied for a job in an art museum and I was thinking about giving a tour to a friend that is coming to visit in a couple of weeks, who happens to be a writer. Maybe this was my brain’s way of sorting things out. Who knows. But I remember the feel of his hand in mine, the smell of his cologne as he leaned in close to me, and the way I felt about him. He was obviously important and someone I knew. It was a very powerful dream.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
The Phantom of the Archives
Just in time for the Halloween season, I have a spooky and true ghost story to share. I should preface this with the fact that I didn’t really worry about my office being haunted until we recently hired a part time worker. She’s a very nice lady and a very good worker and claims to be a sensitive, meaning she can see auras and ghosts and is mildly empathic. I honestly don’t know where I weigh in on any of those things. I certainly believe there are things going on around us that we aren’t really aware of and I’ve experienced some pretty weird things before so I can’t say that I don’t believe in ghosts but at the same time I’m not entirely sure that I do believe in them.
So, we were joking around one day and she said something about my office being haunted and I kind of laughed and she said she was serious and that she’s been tapped on the shoulder several times and been given a hug at least twice. I just thought “well at least the ghost is friendly” and sort of dismissed it. I always figured it was entirely likely that we had a few energies come into the building attached to the collections. We have something like 120,000 cubic feet of stuff in the building and it’s all important, old, and most of it belonged to people that are no longer living.
I try to not think about any of that while I’m in my office though. It’s isolated, it’s hard to get to, it’s completely windowless, and I’m often the only person down in that part of the building. So, it wasn’t unusual when I found myself alone in that part of the building last Thursday. The secretary in the adjoining office either left early or was working upstairs, the IT guy across the hall was gone, my assistant wasn’t in, and the part time worker went home early. I was in my office doing my thing and I heard footsteps in the storage room next door. It sounded like someone walking very determinedly in heels from one end of the stacks to the other and then back. It seemed a little odd that someone would be pacing back and forth in heels but I didn’t think much of it since people often work in the storage rooms. So, I kept working until a little after five and I heard someone still walking around in there. Since I was the last person in that part of the building I was shutting things down, locking doors, and shutting lights off. I decided to unlock the door to the storage room and tell whoever was in there that I was going home and to ask them if they would make sure all the doors were shut behind them. But… the room was empty. Nobody was in there. Not only that but the moving stacks had been deactivated and there were tarps over them since contractors were getting ready to replace some pipes in there so it was highly unlikely that anyone would have been working in there. Well, that freaked me out since there is only one door in and out and nobody had been through for a while and I had just heard someone walking around in there a few minutes before. I asked one more time (this time a little more plaintively and loudly) if anyone was in that room and got no response. At this point I was pretty freaked out so I told the empty room that I was going to shut off the lights and go home, which I did – as quickly as I could!
So, we were joking around one day and she said something about my office being haunted and I kind of laughed and she said she was serious and that she’s been tapped on the shoulder several times and been given a hug at least twice. I just thought “well at least the ghost is friendly” and sort of dismissed it. I always figured it was entirely likely that we had a few energies come into the building attached to the collections. We have something like 120,000 cubic feet of stuff in the building and it’s all important, old, and most of it belonged to people that are no longer living.
I try to not think about any of that while I’m in my office though. It’s isolated, it’s hard to get to, it’s completely windowless, and I’m often the only person down in that part of the building. So, it wasn’t unusual when I found myself alone in that part of the building last Thursday. The secretary in the adjoining office either left early or was working upstairs, the IT guy across the hall was gone, my assistant wasn’t in, and the part time worker went home early. I was in my office doing my thing and I heard footsteps in the storage room next door. It sounded like someone walking very determinedly in heels from one end of the stacks to the other and then back. It seemed a little odd that someone would be pacing back and forth in heels but I didn’t think much of it since people often work in the storage rooms. So, I kept working until a little after five and I heard someone still walking around in there. Since I was the last person in that part of the building I was shutting things down, locking doors, and shutting lights off. I decided to unlock the door to the storage room and tell whoever was in there that I was going home and to ask them if they would make sure all the doors were shut behind them. But… the room was empty. Nobody was in there. Not only that but the moving stacks had been deactivated and there were tarps over them since contractors were getting ready to replace some pipes in there so it was highly unlikely that anyone would have been working in there. Well, that freaked me out since there is only one door in and out and nobody had been through for a while and I had just heard someone walking around in there a few minutes before. I asked one more time (this time a little more plaintively and loudly) if anyone was in that room and got no response. At this point I was pretty freaked out so I told the empty room that I was going to shut off the lights and go home, which I did – as quickly as I could!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Blank
I’ve opened a blank Word document several times in the last few days with the intention of writing a blog. I’ve stared at the blank screen and eventually just closed it without writing anything. I guess there just isn’t much going on in my life at the moment.
In the last week or two, a lot of my friends have been having some pretty horrible relationship problems. Relationships that had existed for years suddenly crumbled, new relationships faltered, and I am still struggling with my own demons.
It really makes me wonder how any two people can ever make anything work. Maybe my ideas about relationships draw too much on fairy tails. Maybe it’s all part of a cycle of growth and learning. After all, how can anyone really truly understand goodness and love without understanding their negative counterparts? Sometimes I wonder how much we have to learn before we can just be content, but I doubt there is ever a cut off point. We have to just keep going forward and be ok with the fact that most of the journey has to be completed alone. I suppose it just makes you appreciate it more when you have some company on your voyage.
Since I am decidedly single, I don’t have a lot to say about past relationships or lost relationships right now. (I know, weird huh?) New relationships and forward movement have been weighing heavy on my mind lately. Entering into a new relationship is a delicate balancing act. You have to trust your intuition, yet you also have to go out on a limb and leave your comfort zone. It’s scary. I’ve found that I have really good intuition but I deliberately ignore it in the hopes that I’m wrong. It’s a good thing I have some good friends that aren’t afraid to give me a boot in the ass when I do that.
Lately, I’ve been trying to determine if I even really want to be in a relationship. I mean I get lonely sometimes and would love to have some company around but I am also reasonably happy with my life right now. Plus, I’m a pretty big fan of sleeping diagonally in the center of the bed! But ultimately, I’m not a solitary sort of person and I would like someone in my life.
Recently a new prospect has materialized, seemingly out of nowhere. A mutual friend has been trying to convince me to ask him out for a few weeks. I’m not sure if he’s my “type” but I’m also not sure what my “type” is. Lately, it seems to be guys that are physically and/or emotionally unavailable that will ultimately hurt me in some way, whether they mean to or not. Someone reminded me recently that my type was more along the lines of a guy that is intelligent, has a lot of personality, and it wouldn’t hurt if he’s kind of cute. That’s all true and this new guy fits all of those criteria. It’s been years since I actually went out with someone that lived in the same town as me. That simplifies things considerably! I’m actually sort of excited about all this and I hope I see him in the near future. I don’t even remember the last time I asked someone out in person. It’s kind of a scary prospect, but in a good way!
In the last week or two, a lot of my friends have been having some pretty horrible relationship problems. Relationships that had existed for years suddenly crumbled, new relationships faltered, and I am still struggling with my own demons.
It really makes me wonder how any two people can ever make anything work. Maybe my ideas about relationships draw too much on fairy tails. Maybe it’s all part of a cycle of growth and learning. After all, how can anyone really truly understand goodness and love without understanding their negative counterparts? Sometimes I wonder how much we have to learn before we can just be content, but I doubt there is ever a cut off point. We have to just keep going forward and be ok with the fact that most of the journey has to be completed alone. I suppose it just makes you appreciate it more when you have some company on your voyage.
Since I am decidedly single, I don’t have a lot to say about past relationships or lost relationships right now. (I know, weird huh?) New relationships and forward movement have been weighing heavy on my mind lately. Entering into a new relationship is a delicate balancing act. You have to trust your intuition, yet you also have to go out on a limb and leave your comfort zone. It’s scary. I’ve found that I have really good intuition but I deliberately ignore it in the hopes that I’m wrong. It’s a good thing I have some good friends that aren’t afraid to give me a boot in the ass when I do that.
Lately, I’ve been trying to determine if I even really want to be in a relationship. I mean I get lonely sometimes and would love to have some company around but I am also reasonably happy with my life right now. Plus, I’m a pretty big fan of sleeping diagonally in the center of the bed! But ultimately, I’m not a solitary sort of person and I would like someone in my life.
Recently a new prospect has materialized, seemingly out of nowhere. A mutual friend has been trying to convince me to ask him out for a few weeks. I’m not sure if he’s my “type” but I’m also not sure what my “type” is. Lately, it seems to be guys that are physically and/or emotionally unavailable that will ultimately hurt me in some way, whether they mean to or not. Someone reminded me recently that my type was more along the lines of a guy that is intelligent, has a lot of personality, and it wouldn’t hurt if he’s kind of cute. That’s all true and this new guy fits all of those criteria. It’s been years since I actually went out with someone that lived in the same town as me. That simplifies things considerably! I’m actually sort of excited about all this and I hope I see him in the near future. I don’t even remember the last time I asked someone out in person. It’s kind of a scary prospect, but in a good way!
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Trial by Fire
A trial by fire is an ordeal, a process of being tested and judged, and in the end you either survive or you don’t. It can also be thought of as a forging process where in the end, provided you make it to the end, you are stronger. My trial was not by fire, but instead by water in the form of my own swallowed tears.
I remember ten years ago on this very morning hearing the news that some “fag” in Laramie was beaten. I don’t remember if I heard the news at home before school or if I heard it at school. I don’t remember who told me. I don’t really even remember who used the word fag. I honestly don’t even remember if I heard Matt described as a fag. I imagine I did though. My memories of that time are vague, more abstract feelings than anything else but those feelings forever changed me. That was the day I learned to be afraid and to hate myself. That was the day that I turned inward and began the process of swallowing 10,000 tears. That was the day my trial began.
I was 17. I lived in a very small town. I didn’t know any gay people. I didn’t know anything about gay people. Gay people were something that lived elsewhere. They were bad and dirty and diseased and liked to have sex with children and animals. This was my impression of what it meant to be gay. So, when I started having feelings that seemed to indicate an attraction for men I had to assume they meant something else. I wasn’t any of those horrible things so I couldn’t be gay. I was simply envious. I was skinny and hairless and awkward. I was into muscley guys with big hairy chests because I was jealous… yeah… that’s it. I didn’t date girls simply because I didn’t have to. My class only had 32 people in it. Roughly half were guys, of the remaining 16ish one was my cousin, several were taken and the rest just didn’t seem desirable. That was all… I was skinny and awkward and I just hadn’t met the “right” girl yet. That seems like a pretty thin alibi but it worked for me for far too long, since the alternative wasn’t something I was able to face.
I vaguely remember all the media attention. I remember hearing stories in the news about how a gay college student from Wyoming was brutally beaten and left for dead. I remember this was the first time I heard the word “gay” used in the news. I also remember hearing someone say that he had it coming. Again, I don’t remember who said the words but they stuck with me. They shattered something in me; something I didn’t even realize was broken until years later.
Looking back, on that week ten years ago, I was probably on the verge of a revelation. I was probably starting to sort through my own feelings and I was probably about to actually figure out that I thought men were attractive because I am actually gay. Being bad at sports had nothing to do with it. I was probably just starting to realize that I was in a closet and instead of opening the door and coming out and making peace with myself I went so far in that I didn’t realize where I was. I just knew it was dark and crowded and I had to be careful to not think about it too much.
After high school graduation I went on to college where I met my first girl friend. It had been prophesied by a friend years before that I would loose my virginity the first week after I started college and then I would just be a wild sex-having party animal. Well, that never happened in spite of the fact that I had girlfriend. Something still felt… just wrong. I kept using the old excuse that I was jealous of other guys. I had to let go of the idea that I hadn’t met the “right” girl but I replaced it with the idea that I was simply too busy to be able to date. I never addressed the fact that I was not attracted to women at all. I guess I just didn’t realize what it meant to be attracted to anyone in a physical way. That thin alibi worked for a while longer.
Eventually, I left the little community college that I had called home for three years to finish my degree at an out of state university. I remember ruling out the University of Wyoming in my senior year of high school and then again when I left my junior college. I didn’t want to be in Laramie. It wasn’t safe for me. I didn’t know why though.
When I left Wyoming I began a period of isolation in my life. I didn’t know anyone and I had no interest in making any friends. I had figured out who and what I was and I began a phase of my life where I prayed to God to make me “normal” and to take “this” away from me. I still never used the word gay. I hated myself and I cried most every night. I hoped my tears would somehow baptize me. I hoped they would wash me clean. I hoped if I just felt bad enough and repented enough and cried enough then God would change me. He didn’t. I remember the first time I ever spoke the words “I’m gay” out loud. It was late at night. I was in my little twin size dorm bed. I had finally cried all the tears I had available and this feeling of warmth and revelation swept over me. If I had spent the better part of a year doing nothing but asking to be changed and I was still exactly the same person, then there was no way God was going to change me. I was made this way, and it was selfish of me to ask to be anything else. “I’m gay.” Wow… that feels good.
Graduation was coming up and I had to decide where I was going and what I was doing. School was all I had known so I decided to continue on and get my master’s degree. The University of Wyoming offered me the most money and so I accepted. I remember telling my boss I was moving to Laramie. I hadn’t told her or anyone else in the entire world that I was gay but she somehow knew. All she said was “be careful.”
My trial was nearly over. The tears I had been repressing had been building up for years to the point I actually thought I was going to drown. Every morning that I woke up hating myself was like waking up under water, gasping for air and hoping that the water would either wash me clean or sweep me away. Every time I came out to someone, every time I came closer to loving myself, every time I let myself shine through the façade I had built to hide behind, it felt like I was coming closer and closer to breaking the surface of the lake I had put myself under.
I graduated in December, I spend Christmas with my family, and then moved to Laramie in January. From there my life sped up. I came out for the first time to one of my friends in April, another two or three in June, and then went to my first Pride festival that summer. In August I went to my first Spectrum meeting, where I met my first boyfriend. It was sometime after I came to Laramie and came out that I changed completely. Nothing outwardly changed; actually, nothing changed inwardly either. I simply took down most of my walls and I became myself and I liked being that person.
Today, ten years later, I can say that I’m on the shore of that lake and the lake is now more of a puddle. I would have never guess that Laramie would return ME to myself but I guess it’s poetic justice. I let Matt’s death take something from me ten years ago and now I’m letting the town Matt lived in return it to me.
I often seem dramatic and I seem to always be having some sort of dating issue. I also tend to do too much for people and be overly accommodating to my friends. I give too much and I seem to have all the inner turmoil of a thirteen year old girl just before her first big dance. Well, that’s because in many ways I am that teenager. I didn’t start dating until four years ago. Most people dealt with all of this years ago. Heck, I didn’t even meet myself for the first time until relatively recently. In the last five years I’ve gone from hating myself for being who I am to giving interviews to Newsweek about what it’s like to live in Laramie as a gay man. I’ve come a long way in a short amount of time. I’ll stabilize sometime but right now I have a lot of life to make up. You don’t recover from roughly 8000 days of hating yourself over night.
This week, I remember Matthew Shepard. I never met him but his life and death have had an exceptionally profound impact on my life. I have no idea what sort of person he was like. I’ll never know what happened to him ten years ago, but it doesn’t matter. He was killed, he was killed at least in part because he was gay, and nothing about that is ok. It is my goal to help others to find themselves, to teach young people to not hate themselves simply because they are gay, and if I’m able to keep just one person from having to go through the trial I’ve been through for the last ten years, then my life has been worthwhile.
I remember ten years ago on this very morning hearing the news that some “fag” in Laramie was beaten. I don’t remember if I heard the news at home before school or if I heard it at school. I don’t remember who told me. I don’t really even remember who used the word fag. I honestly don’t even remember if I heard Matt described as a fag. I imagine I did though. My memories of that time are vague, more abstract feelings than anything else but those feelings forever changed me. That was the day I learned to be afraid and to hate myself. That was the day that I turned inward and began the process of swallowing 10,000 tears. That was the day my trial began.
I was 17. I lived in a very small town. I didn’t know any gay people. I didn’t know anything about gay people. Gay people were something that lived elsewhere. They were bad and dirty and diseased and liked to have sex with children and animals. This was my impression of what it meant to be gay. So, when I started having feelings that seemed to indicate an attraction for men I had to assume they meant something else. I wasn’t any of those horrible things so I couldn’t be gay. I was simply envious. I was skinny and hairless and awkward. I was into muscley guys with big hairy chests because I was jealous… yeah… that’s it. I didn’t date girls simply because I didn’t have to. My class only had 32 people in it. Roughly half were guys, of the remaining 16ish one was my cousin, several were taken and the rest just didn’t seem desirable. That was all… I was skinny and awkward and I just hadn’t met the “right” girl yet. That seems like a pretty thin alibi but it worked for me for far too long, since the alternative wasn’t something I was able to face.
I vaguely remember all the media attention. I remember hearing stories in the news about how a gay college student from Wyoming was brutally beaten and left for dead. I remember this was the first time I heard the word “gay” used in the news. I also remember hearing someone say that he had it coming. Again, I don’t remember who said the words but they stuck with me. They shattered something in me; something I didn’t even realize was broken until years later.
Looking back, on that week ten years ago, I was probably on the verge of a revelation. I was probably starting to sort through my own feelings and I was probably about to actually figure out that I thought men were attractive because I am actually gay. Being bad at sports had nothing to do with it. I was probably just starting to realize that I was in a closet and instead of opening the door and coming out and making peace with myself I went so far in that I didn’t realize where I was. I just knew it was dark and crowded and I had to be careful to not think about it too much.
After high school graduation I went on to college where I met my first girl friend. It had been prophesied by a friend years before that I would loose my virginity the first week after I started college and then I would just be a wild sex-having party animal. Well, that never happened in spite of the fact that I had girlfriend. Something still felt… just wrong. I kept using the old excuse that I was jealous of other guys. I had to let go of the idea that I hadn’t met the “right” girl but I replaced it with the idea that I was simply too busy to be able to date. I never addressed the fact that I was not attracted to women at all. I guess I just didn’t realize what it meant to be attracted to anyone in a physical way. That thin alibi worked for a while longer.
Eventually, I left the little community college that I had called home for three years to finish my degree at an out of state university. I remember ruling out the University of Wyoming in my senior year of high school and then again when I left my junior college. I didn’t want to be in Laramie. It wasn’t safe for me. I didn’t know why though.
When I left Wyoming I began a period of isolation in my life. I didn’t know anyone and I had no interest in making any friends. I had figured out who and what I was and I began a phase of my life where I prayed to God to make me “normal” and to take “this” away from me. I still never used the word gay. I hated myself and I cried most every night. I hoped my tears would somehow baptize me. I hoped they would wash me clean. I hoped if I just felt bad enough and repented enough and cried enough then God would change me. He didn’t. I remember the first time I ever spoke the words “I’m gay” out loud. It was late at night. I was in my little twin size dorm bed. I had finally cried all the tears I had available and this feeling of warmth and revelation swept over me. If I had spent the better part of a year doing nothing but asking to be changed and I was still exactly the same person, then there was no way God was going to change me. I was made this way, and it was selfish of me to ask to be anything else. “I’m gay.” Wow… that feels good.
Graduation was coming up and I had to decide where I was going and what I was doing. School was all I had known so I decided to continue on and get my master’s degree. The University of Wyoming offered me the most money and so I accepted. I remember telling my boss I was moving to Laramie. I hadn’t told her or anyone else in the entire world that I was gay but she somehow knew. All she said was “be careful.”
My trial was nearly over. The tears I had been repressing had been building up for years to the point I actually thought I was going to drown. Every morning that I woke up hating myself was like waking up under water, gasping for air and hoping that the water would either wash me clean or sweep me away. Every time I came out to someone, every time I came closer to loving myself, every time I let myself shine through the façade I had built to hide behind, it felt like I was coming closer and closer to breaking the surface of the lake I had put myself under.
I graduated in December, I spend Christmas with my family, and then moved to Laramie in January. From there my life sped up. I came out for the first time to one of my friends in April, another two or three in June, and then went to my first Pride festival that summer. In August I went to my first Spectrum meeting, where I met my first boyfriend. It was sometime after I came to Laramie and came out that I changed completely. Nothing outwardly changed; actually, nothing changed inwardly either. I simply took down most of my walls and I became myself and I liked being that person.
Today, ten years later, I can say that I’m on the shore of that lake and the lake is now more of a puddle. I would have never guess that Laramie would return ME to myself but I guess it’s poetic justice. I let Matt’s death take something from me ten years ago and now I’m letting the town Matt lived in return it to me.
I often seem dramatic and I seem to always be having some sort of dating issue. I also tend to do too much for people and be overly accommodating to my friends. I give too much and I seem to have all the inner turmoil of a thirteen year old girl just before her first big dance. Well, that’s because in many ways I am that teenager. I didn’t start dating until four years ago. Most people dealt with all of this years ago. Heck, I didn’t even meet myself for the first time until relatively recently. In the last five years I’ve gone from hating myself for being who I am to giving interviews to Newsweek about what it’s like to live in Laramie as a gay man. I’ve come a long way in a short amount of time. I’ll stabilize sometime but right now I have a lot of life to make up. You don’t recover from roughly 8000 days of hating yourself over night.
This week, I remember Matthew Shepard. I never met him but his life and death have had an exceptionally profound impact on my life. I have no idea what sort of person he was like. I’ll never know what happened to him ten years ago, but it doesn’t matter. He was killed, he was killed at least in part because he was gay, and nothing about that is ok. It is my goal to help others to find themselves, to teach young people to not hate themselves simply because they are gay, and if I’m able to keep just one person from having to go through the trial I’ve been through for the last ten years, then my life has been worthwhile.
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