19 January 2009
18 January 2009
Today's the day, today's the day, today's the day
Last week, we started to say our long awaited goodbye to President Bush. In what seemed to be a tour of fare-thee-wells that was so undeserved, Americans were able to finally see the light at the end of our dark and murky tunnel. It seems as though there is an illusion in the White House (surprise, surprise) that Bushie and his misministration did some good and had some policies and that will last the test of time. At least that's what Condi Rice thinks. History can be a powerful judge, but the precursor for what our next generation's textbooks will say lies openly in the talk of current events. If we are living in the here and now and are so tired, beaten down and disgusted at the environment of politics, how will we relay this message to generations to come? We all know of the elderly man who will gladly tell us that since the Great Depression, he puts all of his money under a mattress. We never knew what it was like to stand in a soup/bread line, but I think we're pretty damn close now.
I often have anxiety attacks. It's how I deal with life. I find myself in the middle of what a lot of people in my generation are facing. It wasn't too long ago (3 years) that I graduated college. I have pursued graduate study and even did a year of law school before realizing I didn't want to walk the earth looking like I would like to kill myself or someone else. As a result, I have ended up with a ridiculous student loan debt I will be paying forever and ever. But looking at people just a few years younger than I, I can see it's not that bad. They have mounting tuitions that will surely ruin the quality of life for them, if they can even get funding for school. I am lucky because I have a job (granted it's one I don't care that much for), I have health insurance, and I am working toward my career in journalism. I have my health and I have very little credit card debt, which should be gone within a few months. I am in a good position, but a lot of people are not. I can't even begin counting the friends of mine who are out of a job right now. Being a Communications/Poli-Sci guy I had to stick with the banking field in order to survive, while making meager wages on the side for being a freelance writer. Honestly, right now, I can't imagine it being any other way. Thanks to governmental mismanagement we are in a true Call-of-the-wild, survival-of-the-fittest scenario. It's scary.
So of course, with all of this loathing for the mess we have gotten into since 2001, we have nothing to do but hope that our new leader will be the real American hero that W could have only wished to be. Last week, another event helped to overshadow America's goodbye to a man who could barely handle the office of President due to it being "hard work". The Bush years were somewhat framed by incidents involving airplanes along the Hudson in New York City. This time around, to close the bookend on the past 8 years, we saw true heroism and a miracle in the happening. As a strategic and savvy pilot safely guided his jetliner nose up into the Hudson, saving all of the lives on board then lastly his own, we were served up with a reminder of what a hero really is. And that hero stole the show right away from the man who handled the last disaster in NYC with a steady enough hand to win over the public just one more time in 2004. In a time when the winking Texan with poor grammar just doesn't do it for us anymore, we are able to look toward hope for the future. Could the event of a plane crash in the frigid Hudson make for a foreshadowing of our country's next leader? Maybe. I hope so. And, I am not alone. A hero is someone who can come into a situation in a time of extreme peril and guide others through with strength and selflessness. I would like to think that now we can say farewell to the selfish and hello to a new era of heroes. Only now, it will be the giant jetliner comprising of fifty states and a sinking economy that will need to be saved. And I am pretty sure that when it comes to being saved, yes we can.
I often have anxiety attacks. It's how I deal with life. I find myself in the middle of what a lot of people in my generation are facing. It wasn't too long ago (3 years) that I graduated college. I have pursued graduate study and even did a year of law school before realizing I didn't want to walk the earth looking like I would like to kill myself or someone else. As a result, I have ended up with a ridiculous student loan debt I will be paying forever and ever. But looking at people just a few years younger than I, I can see it's not that bad. They have mounting tuitions that will surely ruin the quality of life for them, if they can even get funding for school. I am lucky because I have a job (granted it's one I don't care that much for), I have health insurance, and I am working toward my career in journalism. I have my health and I have very little credit card debt, which should be gone within a few months. I am in a good position, but a lot of people are not. I can't even begin counting the friends of mine who are out of a job right now. Being a Communications/Poli-Sci guy I had to stick with the banking field in order to survive, while making meager wages on the side for being a freelance writer. Honestly, right now, I can't imagine it being any other way. Thanks to governmental mismanagement we are in a true Call-of-the-wild, survival-of-the-fittest scenario. It's scary.
So of course, with all of this loathing for the mess we have gotten into since 2001, we have nothing to do but hope that our new leader will be the real American hero that W could have only wished to be. Last week, another event helped to overshadow America's goodbye to a man who could barely handle the office of President due to it being "hard work". The Bush years were somewhat framed by incidents involving airplanes along the Hudson in New York City. This time around, to close the bookend on the past 8 years, we saw true heroism and a miracle in the happening. As a strategic and savvy pilot safely guided his jetliner nose up into the Hudson, saving all of the lives on board then lastly his own, we were served up with a reminder of what a hero really is. And that hero stole the show right away from the man who handled the last disaster in NYC with a steady enough hand to win over the public just one more time in 2004. In a time when the winking Texan with poor grammar just doesn't do it for us anymore, we are able to look toward hope for the future. Could the event of a plane crash in the frigid Hudson make for a foreshadowing of our country's next leader? Maybe. I hope so. And, I am not alone. A hero is someone who can come into a situation in a time of extreme peril and guide others through with strength and selflessness. I would like to think that now we can say farewell to the selfish and hello to a new era of heroes. Only now, it will be the giant jetliner comprising of fifty states and a sinking economy that will need to be saved. And I am pretty sure that when it comes to being saved, yes we can.
14 January 2009
Someone Who'll Watch Over Me
At exactly the second I feel I need to give up all hope of recovery in the heat of rash decisions, I find that I sometimes suddenly come up with a solution.
Small town corporate America exists and is alive with blood thirsty fangs. Two years ago, I started working for a company that embodied the fundamental idea of philanthropy and safety within its walls. That was, until a new HR queen came in and declared the company her own Xanadu. Now it seems that every policy is changing, every thought has to be carefully guarded, and no one person is able to express their own freedom. Typically, this occurs everywhere at some point in time. The principles of an organization are put to the test by someone who has limited respect for the way things have been run in the past.
I won't pretend I am not a creature of change. That is simply not true. Change makes us versatile and energizes our souls, and who wouldn't want that? But there is a different kind of change that comes with the need for paranoia and control in our society. In a parallel universe, we could see that kind of change happening in politics a number of years ago. Now that a reformer is coming into Washington, I am personally hoping that his new energy will spread across the country.
We need it desperately.
We need to stop feeling as though everything is at risk, and stop streamlining the spirit of America. Though efficiency is the key to making everything run smoothly, sometimes people mistake their own agendas for the greater good of the people. Sound familiar? What happened in the beltway also happened in the board room, and I wonder when it will all change since reverberation takes some time to be felt all over. So, in the interest of us all maintaining a little American sanity, let's be sure to hang on tight and weather the storms of change as the conservative cold front crumbles to the long-awaited and warm feeling of bipartisan movement. If you think I am stating that being liberal means more works in your favor, then please allow me to restate my point. Being FREE to think what you will, honor one another and work together as opposed to individually will make for a clean break from the clusterfuck of the past. Maybe then, with any luck, some of the people we have grown to despise like the HR queen of all things her way, will finally go the way of the dinosaur.
Small town corporate America exists and is alive with blood thirsty fangs. Two years ago, I started working for a company that embodied the fundamental idea of philanthropy and safety within its walls. That was, until a new HR queen came in and declared the company her own Xanadu. Now it seems that every policy is changing, every thought has to be carefully guarded, and no one person is able to express their own freedom. Typically, this occurs everywhere at some point in time. The principles of an organization are put to the test by someone who has limited respect for the way things have been run in the past.
I won't pretend I am not a creature of change. That is simply not true. Change makes us versatile and energizes our souls, and who wouldn't want that? But there is a different kind of change that comes with the need for paranoia and control in our society. In a parallel universe, we could see that kind of change happening in politics a number of years ago. Now that a reformer is coming into Washington, I am personally hoping that his new energy will spread across the country.
We need it desperately.
We need to stop feeling as though everything is at risk, and stop streamlining the spirit of America. Though efficiency is the key to making everything run smoothly, sometimes people mistake their own agendas for the greater good of the people. Sound familiar? What happened in the beltway also happened in the board room, and I wonder when it will all change since reverberation takes some time to be felt all over. So, in the interest of us all maintaining a little American sanity, let's be sure to hang on tight and weather the storms of change as the conservative cold front crumbles to the long-awaited and warm feeling of bipartisan movement. If you think I am stating that being liberal means more works in your favor, then please allow me to restate my point. Being FREE to think what you will, honor one another and work together as opposed to individually will make for a clean break from the clusterfuck of the past. Maybe then, with any luck, some of the people we have grown to despise like the HR queen of all things her way, will finally go the way of the dinosaur.
04 January 2009
Washington's New Year's Resolutions
I was 7 years old when the clock struck midnight on January 1, 1990. I was too young and impressionable to understand much of what was going on in the world, so I really view the "2000's" as my first decade of complete coherence. And now as we close in on less that 365 days of this decade, it's time for the politicians with the best intentions to step into the sun and take charge. The buzz around Boston resonates the feelings in DC that a new era in American Politics isn't just about to begin, but it has already started. The stymied reflections of this change are tied up in that house guest we wished would leave a long time ago. The problem with people who overstay their welcome is that sometimes we make plans for them to stay for a period of time we think will be just fine. About half way through their stay, we realize they should have gone home yesterday. The rotting guest in Washington's house right now is the entire Bush Administration.
I am not just a crazy liberal kid from Boston spouting what my generation of twenty-somethings feel deep inside and are frankly very vocal about. I am noticing people who are extremely conservative and traditional looking at what sits at 1600 Pennsylvania with incredible disdain. In 2009, there are few people who are alive now and can recall the brevity of the Great Depression and the recovery of the New Deal. Lending an ear to an elderly woman in the lobby of my office building in Lowell, I found that the lessons learned in those days could serve us all well today. "This is why I still shove some dough under my mattress", she said. Never striking people as the type to follow one home and burglarize them, I chuckled, but at the same time I could completely understand why someone would be so apprehensive to trust the machine.
So, with a fresh 2009 blooming in the front yard, Barack Obama and friends have an even larger job: stick to their new administration resolutions. Now that his team is in place, everyone has them, and some have already started to sink some teeth into the problems plaguing us and our neighbors. Hillary Clinton, Secretary of State appointee, has the heavy task of regulating the squabbles of the Gaza Strip while Condoleeza Rice signs a book deal. (Given our world position and the past decade's foreign policies, I would certainly hope she is co-authoring her book with the Barefoot Contessa or Tucker Max, because there is nothing enlightening she could have to share.)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Obama has done a fantastic job of engaging the eyes and ears of a nation. Now for the true test. He must keep us all interested in improving the world around us. He has a big job, but we all collectively have an even larger task at hand, and that is to work hard at overcoming the odds. While George Bush retires to his own ranch and dwindles into history, however cruel it may be, we must not let the past hang our livelihood on a hook on the wall. It's time to fight. Let's keep our own resolution to live better by scrapping the worst economy in our lives, damaged international relations, a war to nowhere and the smattered reputation of Americans worldwide. Easier said than done, right? Well, studies have proven that mind prevails over matter and can assist with depression.
When I feel depressed, I seek philosophy and stimulation. Maybe economic stimulation is what we are all looking for right now, but let's remember the earth still exists, and as long as we have health (but with increasing health care costs, that too is temporary), we can rehabilitate our senses and strive to make the world work. A little while back, I was in an asian market when I read a short piece on the money tree. It's a sign of prosperity and impending wealth when left in a creative space and taken care of properly. With so many resolutions to keep, these plants usually sell in abundance at the gateway to a new year. I am starting to think that since I have been a cheerleader for positive sociopolitical change in the new year, it may not be a bad idea to pitch in a little more, pull out 10 precious dollars and buy a money tree. Then I can take a trip down to Washington and leave it in front of the White House. With resolutions to keep of their own, the incoming rainmakers of the Obama administration could use all the help we are willing to give.
I am not just a crazy liberal kid from Boston spouting what my generation of twenty-somethings feel deep inside and are frankly very vocal about. I am noticing people who are extremely conservative and traditional looking at what sits at 1600 Pennsylvania with incredible disdain. In 2009, there are few people who are alive now and can recall the brevity of the Great Depression and the recovery of the New Deal. Lending an ear to an elderly woman in the lobby of my office building in Lowell, I found that the lessons learned in those days could serve us all well today. "This is why I still shove some dough under my mattress", she said. Never striking people as the type to follow one home and burglarize them, I chuckled, but at the same time I could completely understand why someone would be so apprehensive to trust the machine.
So, with a fresh 2009 blooming in the front yard, Barack Obama and friends have an even larger job: stick to their new administration resolutions. Now that his team is in place, everyone has them, and some have already started to sink some teeth into the problems plaguing us and our neighbors. Hillary Clinton, Secretary of State appointee, has the heavy task of regulating the squabbles of the Gaza Strip while Condoleeza Rice signs a book deal. (Given our world position and the past decade's foreign policies, I would certainly hope she is co-authoring her book with the Barefoot Contessa or Tucker Max, because there is nothing enlightening she could have to share.)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Obama has done a fantastic job of engaging the eyes and ears of a nation. Now for the true test. He must keep us all interested in improving the world around us. He has a big job, but we all collectively have an even larger task at hand, and that is to work hard at overcoming the odds. While George Bush retires to his own ranch and dwindles into history, however cruel it may be, we must not let the past hang our livelihood on a hook on the wall. It's time to fight. Let's keep our own resolution to live better by scrapping the worst economy in our lives, damaged international relations, a war to nowhere and the smattered reputation of Americans worldwide. Easier said than done, right? Well, studies have proven that mind prevails over matter and can assist with depression.
When I feel depressed, I seek philosophy and stimulation. Maybe economic stimulation is what we are all looking for right now, but let's remember the earth still exists, and as long as we have health (but with increasing health care costs, that too is temporary), we can rehabilitate our senses and strive to make the world work. A little while back, I was in an asian market when I read a short piece on the money tree. It's a sign of prosperity and impending wealth when left in a creative space and taken care of properly. With so many resolutions to keep, these plants usually sell in abundance at the gateway to a new year. I am starting to think that since I have been a cheerleader for positive sociopolitical change in the new year, it may not be a bad idea to pitch in a little more, pull out 10 precious dollars and buy a money tree. Then I can take a trip down to Washington and leave it in front of the White House. With resolutions to keep of their own, the incoming rainmakers of the Obama administration could use all the help we are willing to give.
30 December 2008
A Year Without a Santa Claus
And just when you thought you had it all figured out, something else comes along and shakes the whole structure. That, my friends, was my personal theme for 2008. I suffered some losses, and had a lot of miserable heartache. I learned many things about myself, and often looked upon my failures with a heat inside me that compelled me to wish I had taken a different path. But when I look back on the last 365 days, I also must give myself the credit of looking at the person I was on December 31, 2007 and the man I am now, on December 31, 2008. The two are drastically different. In some ways, I am more bogged down with stresses, and in others, I have achieved goals I didn't realize I had and have moved leaps and bounds beyond my imagination. On top of it all, we had a very interesting year on this great earth of ours, and that alone is something to behold.
In the interest of…well….your interest, I will summarize the events of 2008 in your world and mine, large and small.
2008 started with the motto "Be Great in '08". Well, that got off to a rollicking good start when I had nobody to traditionally kiss at the drop of midnight. As cliché as it may be, no year has gotten off well that doesn't start with a little affection. Even if it is from someone random, and you are sloppy drunk and will likely never remember the person locking lips with you, it just sets the right tone for a year well lived. I sadly did not get to smooch anyone, and so I didn't start '08 off so great. But, perhaps I wasn't in the correct frame of mind to get my tongue battered by some sloppy intoxicated babe. This would be the precedent for 2008.
The most devastating loss of my life occurred right after my night of being lame. Little did I know how light these other issues are in comparison. After all, all of the qualms and squabbles we have with life are just that. And without life, what does it all matter? On January 7, 2008, the woman I called "mom" passed away before my own eyes at the too-young age of 69. After weeks of being petrified of my own lone shadow, nauseated at the idea of a world without her, and apprehensive to do anything normal with myself, I recall cracking my very first laugh. It was, from that point on, an emotional tilt-a-whirl that still gets to my core. The myriad of my own emotions made me a basket case in 2008, but all in all, I was able to see the path and continue to walk down it. Every so often, though, I sit and wonder where she is, what she is doing, if she can see me, if she can hear me, why she left, if I will hear her voice or see her face again. I wonder how I will ever feel complete at times, but then I recall that there was a point in 2008 when I felt complete after all...
Two months after Mum passed away, I had begun my position as a Leadership Development Participant at a Commercial Bank I had been working for. I was in the audit department, writing an evaluation of an audit I had performed. Nobody was around, and my desk faced an open double door into an empty hallway. I looked up, and I didn't actually see anything, but in another unspoken layer of my vision I was able to see Mum standing there, holding her iced coffee cup, smiling at me and telling me she was "just stopping in to see my new office and say hi". Maybe she was really there, but I know one thing, and that is that it quelled my anxieties and my sense of extreme loss enough that I could again smile because I knew my mom was there. And I could finally perhaps start to feel good again.
Weeks later, I fell in love. And love is something I don't concede defeat to all that often in my life, but this time was different....certainly very different. For, you see, this was no normal girl. No lady Topanga walking in with a bubbly smile and perky mannerisms to make my apple-of-the-eye, boy-next-door persona all the more squeaky clean. This time, love punched me square in the jaw, and the fist belonged to a boy. After months of dating, and my contemplating following him to his native New York, I decided the time was proper to stand in the mirror and say it to myself, then turn and repeat to all my closest friends and family: I am gay.
The first time I heard myself utter the words, I ran for the bottle of Listerine and cried for about an hour or so. When I leaked those privy details to my first friend who knew me for me and not as someone's friend's boyfriend, or someone else, my stomach churned around and almost wound up spilled out onto the pavement. As with everything else in life, however, it got easier each time, but there was still a tremendous challenge facing me.
Though being openly gay and my same quirky, normal dude self is liberating and inspiring, there are still situations that push me right back into a cavern of self-doubt and discomfort. I have found that some of my closest friends whom I could never envision living without in the past have made a spectacle of my personal life behind my back. Instead of fighting with my fists raised high and a hint of whiskey on my breath, I have taken the strong and steady stance that there are people in this world who purport themselves to be something they are not. I no longer hide a damn thing, though I keep my love life intensely private. The two concepts are extremely separate from one another, though I can now strive on a heavy doctrine of honesty. And since I do that...let's be honest...
My christmas card list was far too long, and next year, I have a few names to strike from it. Done deal.
Honesty also lead me to an important choice. Seeing politics unfold moment-by-moment everywhere in my world, I opted to follow my initial career path and become a journalist. Ultimately, I would prefer ending up on television, but until then, and forever I will always write and will always be a contributor to the penned universe, regardless of where my other pursuits take me. I may have to wait a couple of years through the most dismal economy of my lifetime in order to afford obtaining a masters in Journalism, but eventually I will, and in the meantime, I am putting my bachelors in Political Science to good use, writing my hands off and my heart out for all the world to read if they so choose.
Lastly, I found that the thought of love everlasting can not be trusted, and lust can often mask it's slutty eyes with the even grander "L" word. One beautiful, crystal clear day in New York City, I fell out of love...or at least I made the decision that I had to fall out of it pretty damn soon. It was similar to withdrawals from heroin. I was sweating, my heart pulsing and stomach twisting one moment, and the next moment my eyes were filled with tears and I was cold as ice with palms as clammy as a luke warm sauna. I walked away from New York and a life I was about to take on in that city with black clouds appearing in my wake. As the bus drove away, and my heart was again tearing down the middle but for a new reason, the sky opened up on Manhattan, and I started my life all over again in a city I knew well enough: Boston. And I started it single, but in short time along the way, I found some wonderful friends to not only live with, but to make my journey brighter.
And here I now sit. I am in Boston, living just to the left of the city proper, in the metro borough known as Medford where the red and orange lines shake up neighborhoods of triple deckers, laden with bathtub Virgin Marys and people my age wandering around with nothing to lose. In twelve months, I have become a writer, a city boy, a well-travelled and semi-worn thinker, an orphan, a boyfriend, an ex-boyfriend, and an overall better man.
Time makes us better. I say that as a blanket statement, though 2008 was a difficult, if not the MOST difficult year of my life. I shed more tears in 365 days time than I ever have in the 24 1/2 years of life prior to this collection of months passing through me. I became things I never dreamed I could, and I let dreams that were once so close to me slip right out of my grip. But that is the beauty of life. Thinking maybe we have to place one ambition to the side doesn't make us lazy or dismal, but it opens us up to new possibilities. I saw an icon for change and hope elected to be my country's leader, and shortly after 2009 takes its first steps, he will take the reigns of the free world. Because of him, and the people behind him in his mission, and the people around me, lifting me up and raising my face into the sun, I feel we will all be better next year.
So, there you have Jonny On The Spott's synopsis of his very own version of 2008. Allow me to recap:
1. Love starts as a baby, and the one who made me the man I am today from the baby she took on at birth bid me and this beautiful world farewell. Having had Virginia here for 69 years before 2008 made this earth a better place, and made many, many people laugh easier, smile wider, and feel better. I miss my mom, but she was the best I could have ever had.
2. Amidst searching for myself, I realized I was here all along. I kissed a boy, and I liked it. He liked it, too. But if he really wanted me, he would have to speak up because I won't wait. And if he REALLY liked it, let's not beat around the bush...he should have put a ring on it.
3. Honesty IS the best policy, and now I can stand here with my arms outstretched, awaiting every day and every possibility with anxious thrill.
4. 4 is for 44. The 44th President, that is. He was my man of the year, and if he wasn't yours, then honestly....why are we friends?
5. Here is to wishing that 2009 is filled with a million greater and wilder moments than this year was. Here's to health of the mental and physical variety being in great shape. Here's to never feeling alone, never fearing the unknown, and never wanting each day to end. Here's to those who keep us afloat, and those we will meet, or re-meet along the way.
Here's, my friends, to a wonderful, prosperous, and vibrant new year. And most of all, here's to me using less Rilo Kiley references in future posts!
Happy New Year.
And now...a photo retrospective of what 2008 meant to me, complete with rarely seen photos of people...especially your beloved author and some of his beloved:
In the interest of…well….your interest, I will summarize the events of 2008 in your world and mine, large and small.
2008 started with the motto "Be Great in '08". Well, that got off to a rollicking good start when I had nobody to traditionally kiss at the drop of midnight. As cliché as it may be, no year has gotten off well that doesn't start with a little affection. Even if it is from someone random, and you are sloppy drunk and will likely never remember the person locking lips with you, it just sets the right tone for a year well lived. I sadly did not get to smooch anyone, and so I didn't start '08 off so great. But, perhaps I wasn't in the correct frame of mind to get my tongue battered by some sloppy intoxicated babe. This would be the precedent for 2008.
The most devastating loss of my life occurred right after my night of being lame. Little did I know how light these other issues are in comparison. After all, all of the qualms and squabbles we have with life are just that. And without life, what does it all matter? On January 7, 2008, the woman I called "mom" passed away before my own eyes at the too-young age of 69. After weeks of being petrified of my own lone shadow, nauseated at the idea of a world without her, and apprehensive to do anything normal with myself, I recall cracking my very first laugh. It was, from that point on, an emotional tilt-a-whirl that still gets to my core. The myriad of my own emotions made me a basket case in 2008, but all in all, I was able to see the path and continue to walk down it. Every so often, though, I sit and wonder where she is, what she is doing, if she can see me, if she can hear me, why she left, if I will hear her voice or see her face again. I wonder how I will ever feel complete at times, but then I recall that there was a point in 2008 when I felt complete after all...
Two months after Mum passed away, I had begun my position as a Leadership Development Participant at a Commercial Bank I had been working for. I was in the audit department, writing an evaluation of an audit I had performed. Nobody was around, and my desk faced an open double door into an empty hallway. I looked up, and I didn't actually see anything, but in another unspoken layer of my vision I was able to see Mum standing there, holding her iced coffee cup, smiling at me and telling me she was "just stopping in to see my new office and say hi". Maybe she was really there, but I know one thing, and that is that it quelled my anxieties and my sense of extreme loss enough that I could again smile because I knew my mom was there. And I could finally perhaps start to feel good again.
Weeks later, I fell in love. And love is something I don't concede defeat to all that often in my life, but this time was different....certainly very different. For, you see, this was no normal girl. No lady Topanga walking in with a bubbly smile and perky mannerisms to make my apple-of-the-eye, boy-next-door persona all the more squeaky clean. This time, love punched me square in the jaw, and the fist belonged to a boy. After months of dating, and my contemplating following him to his native New York, I decided the time was proper to stand in the mirror and say it to myself, then turn and repeat to all my closest friends and family: I am gay.
The first time I heard myself utter the words, I ran for the bottle of Listerine and cried for about an hour or so. When I leaked those privy details to my first friend who knew me for me and not as someone's friend's boyfriend, or someone else, my stomach churned around and almost wound up spilled out onto the pavement. As with everything else in life, however, it got easier each time, but there was still a tremendous challenge facing me.
Though being openly gay and my same quirky, normal dude self is liberating and inspiring, there are still situations that push me right back into a cavern of self-doubt and discomfort. I have found that some of my closest friends whom I could never envision living without in the past have made a spectacle of my personal life behind my back. Instead of fighting with my fists raised high and a hint of whiskey on my breath, I have taken the strong and steady stance that there are people in this world who purport themselves to be something they are not. I no longer hide a damn thing, though I keep my love life intensely private. The two concepts are extremely separate from one another, though I can now strive on a heavy doctrine of honesty. And since I do that...let's be honest...
My christmas card list was far too long, and next year, I have a few names to strike from it. Done deal.
Honesty also lead me to an important choice. Seeing politics unfold moment-by-moment everywhere in my world, I opted to follow my initial career path and become a journalist. Ultimately, I would prefer ending up on television, but until then, and forever I will always write and will always be a contributor to the penned universe, regardless of where my other pursuits take me. I may have to wait a couple of years through the most dismal economy of my lifetime in order to afford obtaining a masters in Journalism, but eventually I will, and in the meantime, I am putting my bachelors in Political Science to good use, writing my hands off and my heart out for all the world to read if they so choose.
Lastly, I found that the thought of love everlasting can not be trusted, and lust can often mask it's slutty eyes with the even grander "L" word. One beautiful, crystal clear day in New York City, I fell out of love...or at least I made the decision that I had to fall out of it pretty damn soon. It was similar to withdrawals from heroin. I was sweating, my heart pulsing and stomach twisting one moment, and the next moment my eyes were filled with tears and I was cold as ice with palms as clammy as a luke warm sauna. I walked away from New York and a life I was about to take on in that city with black clouds appearing in my wake. As the bus drove away, and my heart was again tearing down the middle but for a new reason, the sky opened up on Manhattan, and I started my life all over again in a city I knew well enough: Boston. And I started it single, but in short time along the way, I found some wonderful friends to not only live with, but to make my journey brighter.
And here I now sit. I am in Boston, living just to the left of the city proper, in the metro borough known as Medford where the red and orange lines shake up neighborhoods of triple deckers, laden with bathtub Virgin Marys and people my age wandering around with nothing to lose. In twelve months, I have become a writer, a city boy, a well-travelled and semi-worn thinker, an orphan, a boyfriend, an ex-boyfriend, and an overall better man.
Time makes us better. I say that as a blanket statement, though 2008 was a difficult, if not the MOST difficult year of my life. I shed more tears in 365 days time than I ever have in the 24 1/2 years of life prior to this collection of months passing through me. I became things I never dreamed I could, and I let dreams that were once so close to me slip right out of my grip. But that is the beauty of life. Thinking maybe we have to place one ambition to the side doesn't make us lazy or dismal, but it opens us up to new possibilities. I saw an icon for change and hope elected to be my country's leader, and shortly after 2009 takes its first steps, he will take the reigns of the free world. Because of him, and the people behind him in his mission, and the people around me, lifting me up and raising my face into the sun, I feel we will all be better next year.
So, there you have Jonny On The Spott's synopsis of his very own version of 2008. Allow me to recap:
1. Love starts as a baby, and the one who made me the man I am today from the baby she took on at birth bid me and this beautiful world farewell. Having had Virginia here for 69 years before 2008 made this earth a better place, and made many, many people laugh easier, smile wider, and feel better. I miss my mom, but she was the best I could have ever had.
2. Amidst searching for myself, I realized I was here all along. I kissed a boy, and I liked it. He liked it, too. But if he really wanted me, he would have to speak up because I won't wait. And if he REALLY liked it, let's not beat around the bush...he should have put a ring on it.
3. Honesty IS the best policy, and now I can stand here with my arms outstretched, awaiting every day and every possibility with anxious thrill.
4. 4 is for 44. The 44th President, that is. He was my man of the year, and if he wasn't yours, then honestly....why are we friends?
5. Here is to wishing that 2009 is filled with a million greater and wilder moments than this year was. Here's to health of the mental and physical variety being in great shape. Here's to never feeling alone, never fearing the unknown, and never wanting each day to end. Here's to those who keep us afloat, and those we will meet, or re-meet along the way.
Here's, my friends, to a wonderful, prosperous, and vibrant new year. And most of all, here's to me using less Rilo Kiley references in future posts!
Happy New Year.
And now...a photo retrospective of what 2008 meant to me, complete with rarely seen photos of people...especially your beloved author and some of his beloved:
17 December 2008
_something_other_than_love_from_another_
The hurried rushes of life seldom leave me the fleeting chance to be pleased with what I have. For some reason, I really loved today and all it had to offer, and I feel compelled to write about it. Though, I would likely write regardless...
Point number one in the spectrum of proving my life worthy of relishing in delight is that today it snowed. I hate snow and winter weather with every last drop of my blood. In 2000, I started snowboarding and continued until roughly 2004. Around that time, I conceded that I actually loathed winter and I bid my fiberglass snow riding device a fond adieu, trading it in recent times for a fiberglass wave riding device. It's much more my style, and better suited to put a smile on my face with every use. Sadly, it is bunked in the back hallway until the sun warms the earth up beyond 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Normally, I would use today as a way to broadcast my dire wish to move to California or Florida or the Carolinas sometime in the next ten days, but I took a deep breath and thought otherwise. Maybe today, I could enjoy some of this winter thing by running around on crunchy snow. I took a trip to Groveland, and on my dearly deceased mom's lawn, I ran through the crunchy, ice covered snow in my black suit and magenta tie. It's a snapshot of sorts, since this was always my favorite snow, and my mom was always my favorite lady. I used to love winter, but it's amazing what a couple of decades can do to the fervor that embodies childhood.
About twenty years ago, you would find a five or six year old blonde boy trekking his purple plastic sled through that large and hilly backyard. When it snowed, and the quick rain glazed over the white blanket in a slight freeze, he would tromp around to hear the crunch of his feet collapsing the frozen shell and revealing the fluffy clean accumulation beneath. Sometimes he would be with friends or a cousin or two, but sometimes he would go alone. After all, who can resist the biting temptation of a limitless backyard adventure?
Indoors was a woman in her late forties, watching out the window at her little boy and doing what she did best: worrying he would hurt himself. He was overzealous and fearless in his youth. She took delicate care of him as though this was one last shot at being a good mother. She was a good mother without dispute, but she perfected her craft over time, and this little boy was her seventh chance at showing the world she could churn out good citizens like Nabisco could make a cracker. This winter scene repeated itself over many years, but as most perfect situations do, this also came to an end.
Today, coming from work, and wearing my favorite suit/tie combo, I felt relatively cheery. My favorite kind of snow was waiting for me at my favorite lady's house. But something had to come in and snatch the thrill away. The fact that the caring blonde woman wasn't in the window to watch the blonde boy jump around and forget about his cares for a while frustrated and saddened me. She wasn't my actual mother, but she was my mom. She was my parent. She was my best friend, and no matter what mood I was in, what weight was placed on my shoulders, or what cares I had, I could always count on coming home to her to have a smile placed upon my face. The lack of lights in the window, the absence of a Christmas tree or a winter village on the mantle all brought a tear to my eye and the need to choke back a flowing river of sorrow that still pains like an open wound.
But in the midst of my sorrow, the second point came across. I have loved, I have lost. I may miss my mom more than anyone in this world could bare to understand, but I can reflect on a valuable lesson that little boy with the purple sled couldn't have possibly understood back then. I am happy I had the best mom on the face of the planet. She worried, she pined over my every move. She came to my school plays all the way up through high school and crossed her fingers I would remember every line, hit every note, and shine like the galaxy. She came to my soccer games and shook with fear that I would break a limb, or get the wind knocked out of me. She begged with the powers that be that I would pull off a good game. She yelled at me for making errors at my baseball games, and congratulated me on a match well-played. She cried when I got into college, and she cried alone when the house became empty because of my absence. She taught me how to swear, play cards, and bestow love and care onto others. She taught me how to be a respectable man, and I hope to the gods that I fulfill her lessons. Now, she isn't here to see me standing in the yard, at 26, in a suit, playing in the snow. It breaks my heart.
it has been almost a year since we said goodbye to each other, and like a close friend of mine said: it doesn't get any easier....sorry. And tis the season to be reflecting.
But the point....the second point...
Lucky men are not created, they are developed over time. I am lucky, and I was always lucky. She may not be here now, but my mom gave me the foundations to be a character, and to love every second of it. At this time of year, I owe it to everyone who emphasizes that characteristic in me to thank them all. I know who I have to thank, and I know who loves and has loved me. And thankfully, because of them, and because of myself and my good fortune, I can enjoy that rare day where my favorite kind of snow falls and makes a simple, yet endless playground for the blonde boy, be he 6, or be he 26. Little can relieve the blow of losing your parents at a relatively young age, but maybe if I could locate that purple sled, I might be able to smile some more.
Point number one in the spectrum of proving my life worthy of relishing in delight is that today it snowed. I hate snow and winter weather with every last drop of my blood. In 2000, I started snowboarding and continued until roughly 2004. Around that time, I conceded that I actually loathed winter and I bid my fiberglass snow riding device a fond adieu, trading it in recent times for a fiberglass wave riding device. It's much more my style, and better suited to put a smile on my face with every use. Sadly, it is bunked in the back hallway until the sun warms the earth up beyond 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Normally, I would use today as a way to broadcast my dire wish to move to California or Florida or the Carolinas sometime in the next ten days, but I took a deep breath and thought otherwise. Maybe today, I could enjoy some of this winter thing by running around on crunchy snow. I took a trip to Groveland, and on my dearly deceased mom's lawn, I ran through the crunchy, ice covered snow in my black suit and magenta tie. It's a snapshot of sorts, since this was always my favorite snow, and my mom was always my favorite lady. I used to love winter, but it's amazing what a couple of decades can do to the fervor that embodies childhood.
About twenty years ago, you would find a five or six year old blonde boy trekking his purple plastic sled through that large and hilly backyard. When it snowed, and the quick rain glazed over the white blanket in a slight freeze, he would tromp around to hear the crunch of his feet collapsing the frozen shell and revealing the fluffy clean accumulation beneath. Sometimes he would be with friends or a cousin or two, but sometimes he would go alone. After all, who can resist the biting temptation of a limitless backyard adventure?
Indoors was a woman in her late forties, watching out the window at her little boy and doing what she did best: worrying he would hurt himself. He was overzealous and fearless in his youth. She took delicate care of him as though this was one last shot at being a good mother. She was a good mother without dispute, but she perfected her craft over time, and this little boy was her seventh chance at showing the world she could churn out good citizens like Nabisco could make a cracker. This winter scene repeated itself over many years, but as most perfect situations do, this also came to an end.
Today, coming from work, and wearing my favorite suit/tie combo, I felt relatively cheery. My favorite kind of snow was waiting for me at my favorite lady's house. But something had to come in and snatch the thrill away. The fact that the caring blonde woman wasn't in the window to watch the blonde boy jump around and forget about his cares for a while frustrated and saddened me. She wasn't my actual mother, but she was my mom. She was my parent. She was my best friend, and no matter what mood I was in, what weight was placed on my shoulders, or what cares I had, I could always count on coming home to her to have a smile placed upon my face. The lack of lights in the window, the absence of a Christmas tree or a winter village on the mantle all brought a tear to my eye and the need to choke back a flowing river of sorrow that still pains like an open wound.
But in the midst of my sorrow, the second point came across. I have loved, I have lost. I may miss my mom more than anyone in this world could bare to understand, but I can reflect on a valuable lesson that little boy with the purple sled couldn't have possibly understood back then. I am happy I had the best mom on the face of the planet. She worried, she pined over my every move. She came to my school plays all the way up through high school and crossed her fingers I would remember every line, hit every note, and shine like the galaxy. She came to my soccer games and shook with fear that I would break a limb, or get the wind knocked out of me. She begged with the powers that be that I would pull off a good game. She yelled at me for making errors at my baseball games, and congratulated me on a match well-played. She cried when I got into college, and she cried alone when the house became empty because of my absence. She taught me how to swear, play cards, and bestow love and care onto others. She taught me how to be a respectable man, and I hope to the gods that I fulfill her lessons. Now, she isn't here to see me standing in the yard, at 26, in a suit, playing in the snow. It breaks my heart.
it has been almost a year since we said goodbye to each other, and like a close friend of mine said: it doesn't get any easier....sorry. And tis the season to be reflecting.
But the point....the second point...
Lucky men are not created, they are developed over time. I am lucky, and I was always lucky. She may not be here now, but my mom gave me the foundations to be a character, and to love every second of it. At this time of year, I owe it to everyone who emphasizes that characteristic in me to thank them all. I know who I have to thank, and I know who loves and has loved me. And thankfully, because of them, and because of myself and my good fortune, I can enjoy that rare day where my favorite kind of snow falls and makes a simple, yet endless playground for the blonde boy, be he 6, or be he 26. Little can relieve the blow of losing your parents at a relatively young age, but maybe if I could locate that purple sled, I might be able to smile some more.
15 December 2008
Some Days...They Last Longer Than Others
This is the day I love the most. It never falls on any specific spot on the calendar, but it always seems to come when I need it the most. Walking through the treacherous traffic disaster of Powderhouse Square, I weighed everything on my mind. We all have those days when it seems like everything is only going to commence to make our heads explode in a fury of over-thinking. If you say you aren't sure what I mean, surely you jest. Very few of us have the ability to brush off the worries of life and simply not worry about it all. Those of us left in the lurch often find ourselves frustrated and angry at the world that chucks challenge at us non-stop. But today? Today was the seventy-degree day in the face of a long and crude winter. It's the final solace before a lengthy battle.
So now I am walking to Davis Square to do some writing, when I decide now would be a great time to feel inadequate. One of the biggest things that holds us back is money. And surely, most folks make decisions that are based on how much financial security and prosperity they will have in the immediate future. I was no exception to this rule. In 2006, I was a college graduate with perfect teeth and an inflated ego. That to me is the picture of perfection. I managed to make a fatal mistake. I was offered a job at $31,000 a year as an Assistant Editor for CommonWealth Magazine, a local political publication. I was also simultaneously offered a position as a Branch Manager for a large commercial bank I had worked part-time for during my college career. I was a cushy celebrity at the bank. Working for a regional manager overseeing twenty-one branches, I was known, I was loved, and people thought I was HOT! Who would ever want to pass this up?! And for $10,000 more annually, I sure as hell didn't. And thus begins the few years I could have done without. I got comfortable in my banking career, switched companies, and continued my rise up the ladder.
By all means, despite my disdain for the subject, this seems like it's the all-American story.
Boy is a hometown next door love who excels at everything and gets into college.
Boy does college, making friends and being drunk on weekends.
Boy gets involved in shit while in college and makes people know his name.
Boy graduates college and wears a little ropey thing for getting good grades.
Boy gets a good job where he wears a tie.
Boy makes friends at the water cooler.
Boy forgets to leave and pursue his dream................
So the fight starts here. I thank this blustery and unseasonably warm day for invigorating my soul and awakening my thoughts. It's not too late to be what I should have, could have and would have been. If people treat it like it is, then it is. But life is full of second chances, and doors that are cracked open. In my mid twenties, I envision that I am standing in a hallway, with those thin beams of light staring at me as I walk down the hall. There seems to be no end in sight down this track, but once I walk by one door and pass it, I can't go back. That is not to say, though, that some doors do not lead to the same destination.
Life is just that....it's a hallway. Someday, the doors will run out, and there will be an end. Until that time, the cracks of light shine the path, and all of the doors ahead of me, I plan to fling open and shine as bright as they can.
So now I am walking to Davis Square to do some writing, when I decide now would be a great time to feel inadequate. One of the biggest things that holds us back is money. And surely, most folks make decisions that are based on how much financial security and prosperity they will have in the immediate future. I was no exception to this rule. In 2006, I was a college graduate with perfect teeth and an inflated ego. That to me is the picture of perfection. I managed to make a fatal mistake. I was offered a job at $31,000 a year as an Assistant Editor for CommonWealth Magazine, a local political publication. I was also simultaneously offered a position as a Branch Manager for a large commercial bank I had worked part-time for during my college career. I was a cushy celebrity at the bank. Working for a regional manager overseeing twenty-one branches, I was known, I was loved, and people thought I was HOT! Who would ever want to pass this up?! And for $10,000 more annually, I sure as hell didn't. And thus begins the few years I could have done without. I got comfortable in my banking career, switched companies, and continued my rise up the ladder.
By all means, despite my disdain for the subject, this seems like it's the all-American story.
Boy is a hometown next door love who excels at everything and gets into college.
Boy does college, making friends and being drunk on weekends.
Boy gets involved in shit while in college and makes people know his name.
Boy graduates college and wears a little ropey thing for getting good grades.
Boy gets a good job where he wears a tie.
Boy makes friends at the water cooler.
Boy forgets to leave and pursue his dream................
So the fight starts here. I thank this blustery and unseasonably warm day for invigorating my soul and awakening my thoughts. It's not too late to be what I should have, could have and would have been. If people treat it like it is, then it is. But life is full of second chances, and doors that are cracked open. In my mid twenties, I envision that I am standing in a hallway, with those thin beams of light staring at me as I walk down the hall. There seems to be no end in sight down this track, but once I walk by one door and pass it, I can't go back. That is not to say, though, that some doors do not lead to the same destination.
Life is just that....it's a hallway. Someday, the doors will run out, and there will be an end. Until that time, the cracks of light shine the path, and all of the doors ahead of me, I plan to fling open and shine as bright as they can.
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