We still have a week to go and I'm about to reach breaking point. Living in the eye of the storm, and giving a damn, makes a bad combination. So where to start?
Let's see. Sunday as I was dressing for church I happened upon Meet the Press with MD's senatorial candidates, Cardin and Steele. Now I know nothing about Cardin, and since I don't vote in Maryland that's okay. But Steele is definitely a prominent character. Him I know. But as Matt Russell pointed out, if you looked at his ads, his posters, his website, you wouldn't know that he was a Republican. Steele joked that he was being outed, but this intentional deception, is just typical of what is going on around the country by the Republicans. And then there was the "Steele Democrat" bumpersticker. How can that not be disingenous? And oh by the way, exactly what type of voters is Steele trying to fool into thinking that he's a democrat? Could it be the under educated, or under uninformed, that Steele is trying to dupe? How proud you must be to say that you've won becuase you've fooled people into thinking they voted for a black democrat?
Monday there was a great op-ed in the Post called The Decline of Trust. It's good article, but I don't think that it addresses some of the underlying reasons why we don't trust politicians anymore. For some reason, politics has become the land of zero tolerance for mistakes. You can't say that you were wrong. That maybe some action or opinion or decision was wrong. There's some strange fever that's gripped the political world where ANY admission of failure, of fallibility, or error, will some how become this pandora's box where EVERY decision will then be questioned, interrogated (but of course not via waterboarding) or judged in perfect 20-20 hindsight. The interesting resulting effect is that now politicians are in a position where they have to say that they were right, when there is all evidence to the contrary. Either the evidence is dismissed (no, we're WINNING in Iraq!), or there's some strange parsing of past statements that make Clinton's "It's depends' on what "is" is" comment seem quaint. Of course that distinguished parsing was about oral sex, which is obviously more important than say the reason we went to war in Iraq.
As part of my new, new, new . . . new gym routine, I've been going to the gym in the AM to do cardio. So I get stuck watching TV while I jam to my MP3 player. This morning, I swear that every commercial break had atleast one political ad. And I think I saw back to back Cardin, Erhlich, Allen ads. And none of them are pretty by the way. Especially the Allen ads. And I learned this little bit of info:
"The National Republican Senatorial Committee sank an astonishing $1,087,692.50 into the (Allen) race this morning alone, new FEC filings show. . . . Key footnote: The vast majority of the GOP money — $1,074,800 — will be spent on negative ads attacking Webb, rather than promoting Allen himself."
Nice. Of course this is from the party that purposely tries to reduce voter turnout via letters to immigrants in CA threating with deportation, or by jamming "get-out-the-vote" phone banks in Maine. While almost all of the nastiness I've described is being done by both Democrats and Republicans (though much more by the Republicans), I've yet to hear of any story where democrats are willfully, purposely, and more importantly illegally trying to prevent voters that might support the other party.
Let's think about that for a moment. To win an election in our great democracy, there are some elements of the Republican party that are purposely, willfully, and potentially illegally trying to get people either not to vote, or to confuse them so their vote doesn't match their intentions.
So this weekend has been a waste. Friday night it was pouring down rain and the thought of going out just didn't appeal to me at all. Plus I started to have a head ache that would curse me the entire weekend.
I got up Saturday morning with the best of intentions of working out, of doing work, of doing something. But this constant low grade headache, and my quasi-permanent state of fatigue, didn't really help. So after doing the minimal set of chores, I crawled into bed for a nap. Sort of tossed and turned. Got up and finally walked outside to Filene's Basement to buy some stuff. Walked back. Hit Whole Foods. And then I sort of channel surfed my way through the evening. I couldn't really watch anything since everyone was showing horror movies or some such crap. I did go out last night and what a mistake that was. Add a smokey bar to the fatigue and headache and you're not going to have a good time.
I did get two phone calls yesterday from friends. I love them both, but the questions I don't want someone, even my friends, to ask to me are:
- why aren't you happy? - where do you want to be in three years?
Now sure they are perfectly reasonable questions that I would normally avoid them even if I wasn't feeling bad. But tired, and not feeling well, I quickly changed the subject.
I'm still feeling poorly and I'm not going to try to work on the happy question. But the other question does seem to drag on me. It kind of goes back to the post I had before. And I do find it amusing that what I said then is true. After the vacation I managed to push those thoughts and questions away for a time. I'm almost prescient. It's probably time to figure out where I'm going in this game called life.
Well, it's been a very odd week and blogger's been finicky, so here's a quick recap of some stuff. Reel Affirmations! Loved it. I only saw 4 movies, but they were all good. I'll say my favorite was East Side Story. Just a great movie. Good plot, good acting, some really funny lines. I'll buy it when I can. Now, not every movie can have a good plot, or good acting. The case in point being Eating Out 2: Sloppy Seconds. Now wait, I know you're trying to figure out what E. M. Forester classic this was based off of, but I'm sad to report that while it's not based on a classic, it's also not a classic. A little bit formulaic, but still funny, and what it lacked in plot, acting, dialogue, (insert almost any quality trait), it made up for in good ole fashion skin. Oh yes, there was plenty of nudity (full frontal thank you very much) and shirtless men to make this a secret guilty pleasure.
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So I got a letter from the company building my new condo. They say that they are actually ahead of schedule. Sure. I'll believe it when I see it. To be honest, the longer it takes to get built, the more time there is for the housing market to turn around. Here's a current pic of my new condo at the corner of hip and fabulous. If you look closely you can see where the concrete kind of recesses. That's where the loft looks down into the living room. Kind of cool.
What's not cool is that I've been looking at the new condos that were built at the other end of the block. People are just now moving into them and from the opposite side of the street you can totally see into their condo. I do not need some interior decorating queen doing a walking assessment of my condo on her way to Whole Foods. "Oh gurl, what was she thinking? That shade of cumin was soooo last year." Cumin's a spice, not a color, right? But you get the picture.
******************** So I had a little pre-High Heel Race wine and cheese thing. It was great and I can't believe that we polished off over 8 bottles of wine. But we were well fortified for the cold. We left an hour before the race started, but they were already six deep by the time we wandered over to 17th St. Here's a pic of some of the ladies! "Love your hair, hope you win!"
The firey rebuke I got from my classmate about torture still bothers me. I lack good hard evidence, and obviously you can't believe everything you read, but I still think that what we are doing is wrong on so many levels. And I'm saddened by any lack of real discussion on this on my class mailing list. I almost just want to unsubscribe sometimes. And then earlier this week I read this and I know that it's not just me.
After Pat’s BirthdayCourtesy the Tillman Family
Pat Tillman (left) and his brother Kevin stand in front of a Chinook helicopter in Saudi Arabia before their tour of duty as Army Rangers in Iraq in 2003.
Editor’s note: Kevin Tillman joined the Army with his brother Pat in 2002, and they served together in Iraq and Afghanistan. Pat was killed in Afghanistan on April 22, 2004. Kevin, who was discharged in 2005, has written a powerful, must-read document.
It is Pat’s birthday on November 6, and elections are the day after. It gets me thinking about a conversation I had with Pat before we joined the military. He spoke about the risks with signing the papers. How once we committed, we were at the mercy of the American leadership and the American people. How we could be thrown in a direction not of our volition. How fighting as a soldier would leave us without a voice… until we get out.
Much has happened since we handed over our voice:
Somehow we were sent to invade a nation because it was a direct threat to the American people, or to the world, or harbored terrorists, or was involved in the September 11 attacks, or received weapons-grade uranium from Niger, or had mobile weapons labs, or WMD, or had a need to be liberated, or we needed to establish a democracy, or stop an insurgency, or stop a civil war we created that can’t be called a civil war even though it is. Something like that.
Somehow our elected leaders were subverting international law and humanity by setting up secret prisons around the world, secretly kidnapping people, secretly holding them indefinitely, secretly not charging them with anything, secretly torturing them. Somehow that overt policy of torture became the fault of a few “bad apples” in the military.
Somehow back at home, support for the soldiers meant having a five-year-old kindergartener scribble a picture with crayons and send it overseas, or slapping stickers on cars, or lobbying Congress for an extra pad in a helmet. It’s interesting that a soldier on his third or fourth tour should care about a drawing from a five-year-old; or a faded sticker on a car as his friends die around him; or an extra pad in a helmet, as if it will protect him when an IED throws his vehicle 50 feet into the air as his body comes apart and his skin melts to the seat.
Somehow the more soldiers that die, the more legitimate the illegal invasion becomes.
Somehow American leadership, whose only credit is lying to its people and illegally invading a nation, has been allowed to steal the courage, virtue and honor of its soldiers on the ground.
Somehow those afraid to fight an illegal invasion decades ago are allowed to send soldiers to die for an illegal invasion they started.
Somehow faking character, virtue and strength is tolerated.
Somehow profiting from tragedy and horror is tolerated.
Somehow the death of tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of people is tolerated.
Somehow subversion of the Bill of Rights and The Constitution is tolerated.
Somehow suspension of Habeas Corpus is supposed to keep this country safe.
Somehow torture is tolerated.
Somehow lying is tolerated.
Somehow reason is being discarded for faith, dogma, and nonsense.
Somehow American leadership managed to create a more dangerous world.
Somehow a narrative is more important than reality.
Somehow America has become a country that projects everything that it is not and condemns everything that it is.
Somehow the most reasonable, trusted and respected country in the world has become one of the most irrational, belligerent, feared, and distrusted countries in the world.
Somehow being politically informed, diligent, and skeptical has been replaced by apathy through active ignorance.
Somehow the same incompetent, narcissistic, virtueless, vacuous, malicious criminals are still in charge of this country.
Somehow this is tolerated.
Somehow nobody is accountable for this.
In a democracy, the policy of the leaders is the policy of the people. So don’t be shocked when our grandkids bury much of this generation as traitors to the nation, to the world and to humanity. Most likely, they will come to know that “somehow” was nurtured by fear, insecurity and indifference, leaving the country vulnerable to unchecked, unchallenged parasites.
Luckily this country is still a democracy. People still have a voice. People still can take action. It can start after Pat’s birthday.
Walking back from Lincoln Theatre last night in the fog and light drizzle, I passed Halo as a group of twinks came stumbling out the door.
"Ohhhh GURL! Tell me what happened! I need something FRESH for my blog." I could almost see the theatrical snaps going off in the background.
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The Pet Shop Boys RULE!! Andrews does a great job describing the concert. A friend and I went and we had the most awesome box seats. Great view, but little dancing room which was the only downer. Great music. An amazing set of new and old music. Someone one said that the PSB make "sad music happy, and happy music sad." And it's true. A lot of their up tempo songs aren't very upbeat, and some of their slow, down-temp songs, are actually quite happy and positive. Constitution Hall was a great venue, small enough to be intimate, but large enough to hold a decent size crowd. Probably the best concert I've seen in years.
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R.I.P Habeous Corpus.
To quote the PSB: "It's a Sin." And so very, very sad.
And I swear that I don't mean that sarcastically. Seriously! Really!!!
So a couple of months ago, SuperLawyer came up with the idea of going up to the Guest House at Lost River when the leaves were changing and it sounded nice, and civilized, so I was like sure, why not. And we decided to make it a fall gay get-a-way, so we invited other folks and we actually ended up with a total of ten people making the trek to WVA!
My Friday was the typical. Plan to leave the office around 1130 and *everything* goes to hell in a handbasket, so I'm stuck. The plan had been to meet at Linden Vineyards, sample some wine, have a picnic, and just relax. But no, I'm stuck in the office. I finally bail around 2PM, and of course I-66 is already a parking lot. Once I made it through Manassahole, the traffic broke free and I was golden. And I really was. The sun was shining. It was one of those clear, beautiful fall days in DC and I had the sun roof open and was jamming to my tunes while I headed west. Of course I made it to the vineyard just as everyone was getting ready to leave, but I had time to slam a wine sample of the reisling. Good, sweet, but not syrupy sweet, with a nice hint of peach & mango. So I got a couple of bottles. But then it was time for the final push. Again the drive was great and once we left the interstate and got on some of the backroads, it was like travelling back through time. Especially when we passed not one, not two, but three houses in a row flying the confederate flag. Yep, welcome to West Virginia. We finally made it to Lost River around 6 PM-ish where we checked in and got a tour. Now I had some doubts about the GH@LR, but let me tell you, it is nice. Really nice. The main house/lodge is huge. Lots of areas to just relax, or sit and read, or play pool. Of course we discovered the great bar with the nice fire going. We saw the pool, the hot tube, the gym, the TV room, etc. I mean, we're talking sweet! After the tour, we had to have our celebratory cocktails in the bar. The sad thing I will say is that in less than an hour of being in the lodge, we were singing show tunes. Yes, we are gay. That night we had all brought apps and wine and we went to the Anniversay Gurls' suite where we proceeded to eat, drink, talk, eat, drink, talk, eat, drink, talk, and maybe drink. OMG! Such a good time. And then of course, it was time to hit the hot tube!!! We even did a little polar bear jumping into the freezing (i.e. unheated pool) and then jumping back into the hot tube. I do love that stinging/tingling feeling when you get back into the hot tube after all of that cold water! After all of the excitement (and food, and alcohol), I crashed pretty early.
Saturday AM was a GLORIOUS morning in WVA. Sunny, bright, and the view from our room was spectacular. As we were informed the previous evening, breakfast is servered from 0900-0901. So none of this gay time out here in WVA. And despite all of the food from the night before, I headed down and really enjoyed the huge full breakfast that they provided. Homemade biscuits. Mmmm!!! So good. After we polished off the breakfast, we made our plan for the day. We were going to go to the Lost River State Park and hike and then go horse back riding. So we piled into our cars and headed out. The drive was great. The leaves had just started to turn, so there was plenty of green, but still lots of yellow, gold, and reds. Truely amazing. And needless to say the park was gorgeous. We pull into the parking lot and what do we find? Apparently this really is the gay section of WVA if they have a bathhouse here. Unfortunately it was closed. So we went searching for a trail, and after a mis-start, headed down Howard's Lick Trail. I kid you not. The trail was great as it basically went along a little creek that was very pretty and the terrain wasn't that bad. I was afraid that we were going to end up on some death march, but it turned out quiet pleasant and everyone just sort of relaxed and strolled along. There was a little bit of a breeze, and at times there would a light shower of green and golden leaves that would fall like snow flakes through the trees. It really was just magical. After a short hike, we then headed to the stables to go horseback riding. We got matched with our horses (mine was Moonshine) and then got saddled up. Now it's been while since I've been on a horse, so I was trying to remember all of the little tricks. And I got a lot of practice since my horse had ADD and would just stop every once in awhile. So I would have to kick him a bit to keep him going. Nice. And what is it with horses that ride as close as they can to trees. I can't tell you how much bark I almost tasted. And Moonshine couldn't walk a straight line if his life depended upon it. No seriously, why walk in the middle of the path, why don't you walk right on the edge of the path next to the serious drop off? One of the tour guides was behind me and somewhere along the ride she's like, "Be careful at the next part, it's dangerous." Gee, thanks for telling me that. But the ride was very peaceful. And we climbed several hills and got to see a lot more of the park which was very nice. After an hour, we were back at the stables and that was just perfect. I can't imagine being on that frak'n horse for 2 hours. Thank you, but NO! We then headed back to GH@LR stopping along the way at this CO-OP what specializes in arts and crafts. They had some really great stuff and everyone bought something but me. Then after a late lunch of leftovers from the night before, I curled up for a much needed disco nap. After a short nap, it was gym time, and then time to get cleaned up and head to the bar for happy hour. And a happy hour it was. Especially because the drinks were so cheap (well, compared to DC prices!). Dinner was just fabulous. And of course we had the cutest waitor who was all of 17. But still, that's legal in WVA! And I'm so totally kidding. After dinner, we hung out and watch a DVD of my cruise, and then we hit the hot tub again. Sooo nice and relxing.
Sunday morning was another beautiful, clear, crisp fall morning. It was kind of a bummer that we were leaving, but we got to enjoy another great breakfast before we packed up and started the trek back to DC.
I'm definitely going back. It is SO nice and SO relaxing. And we just had the best group of people with us. It was just such a great get away. I just think next time that I could probably do with a little less food, and a little less alcohol. Well, maybe just a little less food!
The problem with short weeks is that everyone tries to cram 5 days of work into 4 days. So while I had planned on writing something longer about today, I'm going to cheat and steal some lines from some fellow bloggers.
Jimbo said: "I came out when I saw that a gulf was growing between me and my family and friends. I was able to forsee a time where they wouldn't know me, and I didn't like that version of the future. The things I thought I had to keep quiet about where making me a mystery to both me and them - and that's just not my style."
And that's why I finally came out to my Dad. It's not that I wanted to share my homo-loving stories with him. It was that I wanted him to know who I was. All of me. I've done that, but it hasn't been pretty. On my cruise I sent an email to my parents with the joke about how bombing a gay cruise would be like a terrorist triple word score. Come on, that's funny! My dad went off the deep end saying that he didn't ever want to hear anything about my homosexual life, homosexual cruises, homosexual anything. Ever. And he does love to throw the word homosexual around. I think of it as bigger stick to beat me with than just gay. If he doesn't want to know about my life, then that's his loss. I've tried. And I'll keep trying. But at some point he'll either learn to accept me, or he'll never know who I really am.
My second quote stealing is from Andrew Sullivan. He's been on a tear lately and he wrote this about the Foley scandal a couple of days ago: "The closet is so psychologically destructive it often produces pathological behavior. When you compartmentalize your life, you sometimes act out in one compartment in ways that you would never condone in another one. Think Clinton-Lewinsky, in a heterosexual context. But closeted gay men are particularly vulnerable to this kind of thing. Your psyche is so split by decades of lies and deceptions and euphemisms that integrity and mental health suffer."
And he's right. Living a compartmentalized life is hard, both mentally and emotionally. Keeping separate friends (Navy vs. gay), keeping separate lives (professional vs social). Worry about what you can or can't say depending on where you and who are you with. It's a hard way to live. Coming Out is not easy. But staying in the closet would have been much worse.
And now, I'm off to watch Project Runway. Yes, I'm gay!
At church yesterday, the seminary student talked about how despite being born a white man, in a middle class family, going to good schools and colleges, that because he was gay he always felt like an outsider.And I think a lot of gay men can empathize with his feelings.While I knew I was different at an early age, I didn’t realize that I was gay until much later.But between being gay, and being an introvert, it was easy for me to slip into the role of the outsider.You would think that over time I would get over that.But the funny thing is that despite my coming out, despite my moving into the gay ghetto (which I love by the way), I still feel like an outsider.It’s like a walk among my own kind, but I’m not really part of that world at all.
But everyone once in a while I get a glimpse into that world, like taking a trip to a foreign country.My trip to SF and Folsom was like that.Walking down the street and seeing half naked porn stars was a bit surreal.Dancing amidst hundreds of hot sweaty men, while definitely enjoyable, seemed a bit unreal as well.I’m sure there are gay men for which this is a common occurrence.The whole circuit scene still exists in some form, and it seems like the muscle men definitely have their scene as well.But it’s a world which I can only glimpse periodically.
Saturday night was another glimpse into another different world.Located here in DC, but it could have been a million miles away. I went to the Ms. Adams Morgan contest. A friend had gotten me a ticket, and I had a great time. The contestants, the other guests, everyone in costume, or drag, or even in suits, but everyone having a good time. But again it was a bit surreal.Who are these people? I’d say that half of the crowd had dressed in either costume (like me) or in drag. So asking who are these people is kind of misleading.Despite the fact that I had a good time and I thought the show and the skits were funny, I kept feeling like a spectator, an observer, and outsider.And when the show was over, it seemed like my visa had expired.It was time to go back to my own world.
So I finally watched all of season 2 of Battlestar Galactica and now I'm primed for Friday night. The Tivo is empty and ready to record every amazing minute. Yes, I'm now a big frak'n BG fan. Yeah, like who isn't, I know. I just never get the memo.
In other news, I've been scoping out his hottie at my gym. Probably mid-20s, nicely muscled, short blond hair, kind of spikey. And blond, blond. Like almost too perfectly blond if you know what I mean. So yesterday, he's wearing a frak'n Armani Exchange muscle shirt. And looked yummy. But I'm confused. No gay guy would ever wear an AX t-shirt to a Golds. Maybe if they were "working out" at Resluts I could see it. So I'm thinking he's straight, but an AX muscle shirt? Just mixed signals. But today I saw him wearing another muscle shirt (he does have amazing arms) for some Bench Pressing Contest at some base/fort/camp. So I'm guessing he's in the military. But it doesn't make him straight, though.
Speaking of the gym, I've added a little twist to my post lifting cardio. On days where I do biceps, I grab a couple of the 3 pound weights and then do arm curls for the 30 minutes I'm on the elliptical. And yes, I know, 3 pounds, big whoop. But it definitely cranks up my heart rate, so thats what counts.
So I'm still in my post vacation zen mode right now. This whole positive attitude thing is weird. Good, but weird. So I listen to Pride Nation Network at work. Lots of good music, and I hear this song. It's by Claudja Barry and it's called "Here I Stand." Love the words:
They’ll be times when we remember But it’s better to forget I’m ready to look forward Cause I deserve nothing less
"Equating a 52 year old congressman who preys on 16 year olds with being gay may be one reason why the GOP is accused of gay bashing."
In response to the excrement coming out of Newt Gingrich's mouth regarding the Foley situation.
I knew it was only going to be a matter of time before some sick GOP f&*k was going to try to link the pedophile and gay issues. Or maybe he was channeling the Pope.
I first heard Kylie when I was in Australia in 2001. Sure I had heard that crazy/awful "Locomotion" song, but that doesn't really count. No it was in Sydney that I first came under Ms. Kylie's spell. I was spending my nights on the Golden Mile that is Oxford St. There must have been a dozen gay bars within a 8 or so blocks. Just heaven. I was newly out and the world was my oyster. I was staying up late, hitting the pubs, then slamming a red bull (yeah, that's right I was IN on Red Bull back in 2001!), and then I would dance the night away. At some point, almost every night, I would end up at the Midnight Shift which a nice little dance floor always packed with hot little Aussies. It was like a dream come true. Night after night I would end up at the Midnight Shift. Kylie would start to play and I would sing with her:
One a night like this, I wanna stay forever, stay forever, One a night like this, Just wanna be together One a night like this
So I usually come back from vacation and I've got a good attitude for about 3.2 minutes. Okay, maybe not quite that short, but it's short. It's the coming back to work, to me, to all of my crap that usually ends that little vacation high you get. You're supposed to be rejuvenated, relaxed, rested, and you should be ready to take on the world. That's the way it's supposed to be, right? For me I usually get the 20 ton load of crap dropped on my shoulders pretty early on and by day 2 or 3 after the vacation I'm miserable and cranky and hating life.
But not this time. It's weird. I got into a really interesting head space while I was on cruise. From a number of different perspectives. It was kind of like I let go of some things. That I didn't have to worry about some stuff. And that I can still do a lot of things that I want to do. It's hard to explain. But the weird thing, is that I've still got that almost positive attitude going. And trust me, that's not normal.
And it's not like everything's coming up roses. I'm still dealing with some Dad issues. And work is work. Still challenging and life sucking at times. And it's not like I've found the miracle diet and all of a sudden I'm thin and beautiful. And tall. And tan. But I think I'm doing okay. No, better than okay. I'm doing good. It's a weird feeling. Not natural.
Anyways, I'm going to ride it for awhile and see where it goes. Stay tuned.
