The Birth and Death of a Blog
We know how a blog is born. Some one decides that they have something to say about something or anything really. They sign up with one of the blog sites, and they are off an running. Their daily, weekly, or random musings are available for anyone to find, stumble upon, etc. Their are personal blogs (like mine or Joe's who's blog birthday is today), political blogs (my favs: www.andrewsullivan.com and www.americablog.blogspot.com), blogs about fashion, or sex, or almost anything uder the sun. But what about when a blog dies? I've seen blogs die. Geekslut died earlier this year. He got tired of writing, said he was going to convert it into an audio blog, but we haven't heard from him since. After reading his blog for awhile, you get the sense that you know this person somehow and when he stops blogging, there's a silence in your head. There's something missing. I guess that he's gotten sucked into work or maybe something personal that takes alot of his time and so he doesn't blog anymore. I wish him the best. He was a great blogger and one of the bloggers I saw at blogjam that lead to the creation of this blog. I'm more concerned about Soul Of a Sailor and Day Dreamer. I found them via Andrew Sullivan and they are two gay, partnered, active duty military guys. Both had served in Iraq and despite some of their conservative ideas, I really liked, and respect them. A couple of days after they were mentioned in Andrew Sullivan's post, their blogs died. Or more appropriately, their blogs ceased to exist. There was a simple post saying that their blogs had been put on hiatus. But not only are they not blogging, their archives are gone also. Except for the fact that their blog front page is still there, it's almost like they don't exist. Since I've never the trusted the Don't Harrass part of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, I wonder if the silencing of their blogs is due to the fact that they are in the military and gay. I miss their bloggings. I hope they come back one day, rising like the phoenix from the flames.
Blow Off and "Being Invisible"
So a short recap of the weekend. After several failed attempts to get a decent disco nap in, I gave up, watched some DVDs, and then got dressed and headed for Blow Off. This time is was in the 930 club's main room and it was *packed*. Lots of hot men, some shirtless, standing around, dancing, etc. It was very nice and I saw quite a few people I recognized. It's odd that I recognize people from blogs, other bars, etc, but I really don't know them. That's the introvert in me. I just suck at going up to people and saying hello. And a couple of the people I know from their blogs I find attractive/interesting/etc, but again, I'm not going to go up to them like some potential stalker and tell them I know them from their blog. I ran into a friend of a friend and ended up dancing with him and his group of friends. All bears. And I got sort of friendly with one, and I'm not sure why since I had no intention of it going anywhere. It was just some friendly hooching. He told me he wanted to contact me and now I feel guilty for leading him on. Damn that conscience of mine! "Being Invisible." One of the many things I just LOVE about being gay in DC is that it is a small community, so you'll run into people you've dated over, and over, and over again. Most of the time, I try to be decent about it. Look them in the eye, do the friendly nod/smile thing, and then keep going. Kind of regardless of how the dating thing ended. So, I'm at my gym and one of the guys I went out with only once, but we talked on the phone a lot, is there. His training is like 6-7PM, and mine is 630-730 PM. So I see him, and try to do the friendly nod thing, and I'm completely ignored. Like I'm not even there. Like I'm invisible. Okay, I got the message loud and clear that you didn't want to date, but I'm thinking it takes what a couple dozen of muscles to nod/smile back. I know, I know. I'm talking about gay men here. What am I expecting? I'm not sure. But maybe a little bit more.
How I Learned to Stop Sleeping and Love Insomnia
So I go through periods of insomnia. They eventually end and I rejoice in the sweet embrace of a deep sleep. But this has been an awfully long spell and I was starting to lose it. Only getting 2 or 3 hours at a time. If I lay in bed longer I get sore, and mad, and frustrated. Why can't I sleep? What's wrong with me? Don't I know this is going to make me MORE tired in the morning?
So since this spell has been going on a bit long, I've tried some different things. I've cut out my Crystal Light Ice Tea fix at night (which has very little caffeine to start with, but you never know). I've tried Tylenol PM. I've tried hot showers. You name it, I've tried it. So I started thinking, what if it's not me? What if my matress has finally died. I mean, I got it in Dec of 89. Yes, 1989. That's like 15 years ago. So maybe it's time for a new matress. So I made the trek to Landmark Mall where Hechts was having a sale and I got a new matress. It gets delivered on Friday. So that's only 5 more nights of no sleep. So my plan now is to get up when ever I wake up in the middle of the night and try to do something productive. Let's put this insomnia to some good use!!
Chase the Burn
That's what my personal trainer said tonight. "Chase the burn." As he handed me a medicine ball to use as I did my sit ups. Are you f*&king kidding me. I don't need to chase the burn. I found it. Or I should say it found me about 30 minutes ago somewhere between the jump squats, bent rows, mountain climbers, tricep extensions, squats, leg curls, lat pulldowns, up downs, and some "quality" time on the elliptical. The burn is f&*king chasing me. You know you've over the edge when you want to hurl all of the water you've been drinking, but you've got big time dry mouth.
So the personal trainer thing is going well. All bitching aside. The diet? Not so much. Last week was bad. Like Krispy Kreme donuts and Papa Johns Pizza bad. Bad Trey, bad. I've been afraid to weigh myself, but will definitely do it tomorrow.
Okay so the plan was to try to lose like 15 pounds by Memorial Day. Still do-able, but I need to focus. And to help with that focus, I just found out that my 20th High School Reunion is the weekend after Memorial Day. How's that for pressure. And dear Lord, how did I get to be so old? Wait, don't answer that.
Hands Free DC
So like last October DC went hands free. For cell phones. So no more yacking on the phone with the cell phone in one hand, a drink in the other and the steering wheel gripped firmly with your thighs. Or something like that.
Of course the crappy cell phone I get from work doesn't have bluetooth so I end up using the headset with a cord. So not cool. But I deal. I mean, they are giving out tickets now. So I promise I'll be good. Really I will.
So this AM, I'm driving to work, cruising down M St. in Georgetown and I have to stop at a light. So this police cruiser turns left in front of me and as the cop passes me I notice he's yacking away with a cell phone pressed to his ear.
Should I have tried to do a citizen's arrest?
Take Me Out . . . . .
a) to the ball game. b) and just shoot me. c) get me drunk and just have your way with me. I'd like (c), but in reality it's (b), and as far as (a) goes: stop the madness. Yes baseball is back in Washington DC. I got the memo. The flier. The umpteen million articles in the papers. The never ending babble on the radio. The forever coverage on the TV. I'm surprised I haven't seen the f&*king Good Year blimp over the District. So it's been 34 years since baseball was in DC. You'd think it was 34 years since they'd gotten laid or something. Okay, maybe I'm over-reacting a bit. I am sort of excited and have some tickets to some of the games. Now if I only had a date. . . . Another "Take Me Out" is a play about a baseball player who comes out of the closet. Saw it in NYC and it was awesome. It's coming here this summer and I'm trying to organize a group to go during Pride week. We'll see. So I wrote a huge fricken check to DC for taxes. $3500 I owed for the privilege of living in the District. Hell, even Jeff Gannon doesn't charge that much.
"Fat is the New Black"
Atleast according to Joe.My.God (http://joemygod.blogspot.com/).
So it figures that I actually lost 3 pounds this past week. So yes the obsessive compulsive exercising and dieting is working. Though I will admit that in a moment of weakness today I had two, yes two, sugary sweet full strength Cokes. It was like the elixier of life. Sugar and caffeine, who needs drugs when you've got friends like that to help you through the day.
Joe (and some of the other bloggers from NYC) seem to be bears. And I wonder why I'm attracted to them. I do go to Blow Off this weekend. It's this little basement bar underneath the 930 Club where the former leader of the Husker Du spins really cool indie music to a collection of bears. And while bears have a reputation for being friendly, I was pretty much ignored. I think I'm too thin to be a bear. Plus I have no facial hair. I'm too cute to be a bear. To old to be a twink. To fat to be a gym bunny. I am an island in the gay community. Oh well.
Best blog surfing today was to: http://www.atwoodkansas.com/ Such a great open letter to his community letting them know how their ignorance and bigotry is impacting him. Plus, hello hottie!!
Define "Normal"
From dictionary.com: "Conforming with, adhering to, or constituting a norm, standard, pattern, level, or type; typical".
Yeah, that's not me. In any way.
I've been reading a lot of blogs recently, and it's interesting to glimpse into the lives of these various people around the US. And at times I like to think of them as parallal lives that might have happened to me.
Say I didn't go to the Naval Academy. Say I went to Johns Hopkins instead. Would I have come out earlier? Without the discipline and structure of the Naval Academy, would I have gotten into the drug scene, would I have been safe, would I be like one of the people who's blog I read about?
It's all kind of interesting. And I don't know. I'm not sure what normal means anymore, and I'm not sure I care.
Aren't I just supposed to be the person I'm meant to be? And shouldn't I have found out who that person is by now?
My Life As A Diet Coke Addict
That's going to be the title for my autobiography. Kind of catchy isn't it?
Day 3 of the diet and so far, okay. I miss my sugary sweet and oh so refreshing full strength Coke and am slowly coming to terms with the little bitter after taste of Diet Coke. What's sad is that now I think of my Diet Cokes as little snacks during the day. And I try to space them out. One in the AM, and one in the PM. In between it's water.
Everyone loves my water bottle. On the cruise they had these cool blue, funky shaped water bottles. And since I knew I was going to be deydrated on the plane home, I took one with me. So now I carry it around everywhere I go. Everyone jokes saying, "Okay Trey, what's really in the bottle."
"Vodka's not just a morning drink anymore." - Karen from Will and Grace.
Trip to Boston tomorrow. So no morning gym. Will need to be careful with the diet tomorrow.
Oh The Places You'll Go
Found this cool site while blog surfing that lets you create a map of where you've been in the world. So here is mine:
create your own visited country mapIs there a 12 step program for travel addicts?
Maximum Density
Yep, I got on the scale this AM and it's official. I'm huge. And not in a good way. So it's time to work the diet again. Working out isn't a problem. My other personality (okay one of them) is Captain Cardio. I have yet to meet a peice of cardio equipment I haven't like. Well, maybe that crappy mountain climber thing. And it's not just cardio equipment, I like to run some also. But my diet is for crap. So I'm going to keep a food journal and try to be good. See if I can find some way to deal with the stress at work that doesn't involve chocolate.
In addition, I now have my own peronal body nazi, I mean trainer. I started that last week and let me tell you it's kicking my ass. And in a good way. I do 30 minutes of cardio before we meet and then we do this vicious circuit training that is just insane. When I leave the gym, I have to walk slowly and concentrate on not throwing up. It's that harsh.
Anyways, so I'm committed and I'm going to lose weight and I'll sort of document my progress here. But I'm not going to mention my real weight in case anyone is actually reading this blog. Just how much I've lost (or gained).
