To Grind(r) or Not To Grind(r)


Is Grindr the gay selective service?  At 18, or perhaps 21, is it required of any gay man to create a Grindr profile and then serve his community when called by Grindr to “meet up” with an interested user?

                  Increasingly, this seems to be the case. 

       Grindr has an interesting cast.  You never know who -- or what -- will pop up on Grindr.  So, despite the physical recommendations, Grindr is a collection of many different gay men.  The phenomenon has caught on and everyone wants to see if they can get a piece.  Grindr has become the new norm in the gay hook up scene.  If you can’t go the club and get someone in a bed, hop on Grindr – everyone else not at the club is looking on there too.

                  Here is my own Grindr story: I had heard of this magical smart phone app for some time – an app so awesome that while waiting for the always late cable man to install your HD-DVR upgrade, you can log on, find some horny guy in the vicinity and then bang him, thereby making your wait for the cable upgrade much less boring and much more satisfying.

                  “This can’t be for real,” I thought.  Surely, these are only the gay icons – those “masculine”, fit gay guys who are out and about and confident and fuck anything in sight.  Surely, I could not fit into this Grindr world of careless sex swap.  Is that even what Grindr is…?



                  So, curiosity took over, and I created a Grindr account.   I created it merely out of an interest to see what it was all about and completely as a joke.  None of this was serious to me.  I took some cliché picture of myself with a backwards baseball hat and no shirt – you know, right after I finished lounging around the house and watching the game.  This whole scenario to me was hysterical.  Could it get any funnier?

                  Turns out, it could.  I awoke the morning after I created my account to five “chats” from four big, built black dudes and a chubby Asian.  I laughed for a half an hour.  I didn’t respond to any of these guys.

                  The electronic addiction slowly took over.  I would check Grindr here and there, wondering if anyone wanted to grind with me.  I mean, hey, it’s an ego boost: total strangers are basing whether or not they want to be naked with you based off of one photograph – and it’s flattering to get requests.  But is that even what was happening?  Was this for real?

                  I began to respond to some of the chats – and found that while some men were sort of in and out and not involved at all with their Grindr identity, some took this as serious as a full time job.  Could I have met up and had sex with different guys?  The option certainly seemed to be there.  Did I ever do that?  We’ll get to that…

                  That’s sort of my main question about this whole thing – do people actually have sex via Grindr?  I’ve read the magazine articles and blogs that support this notion, but, in real life, does this actually happen? 

                  I won’t be so narcissistic as to mention whether I’ve ever met up with anyone from Grindr.  Let’s say, from my own personal experience, the late night (or early afternoon) “meet-up” certainly COULD happen.  I’ve had plenty of opportunities, but I think Grindr sort of an extreme sport – you are either in it to win it or you’re playing for no reason. 

                  Like any sport, you have to be fit and in shape to play Grindr.  The more physically appealing you are the more likely you are going to get the random “Hi” or “What’s up, man?”  Everyone on Grindr is looking for a man who is “masculine and fit”.  As someone who is, admittedly, not masculine or in shape (I’m not gross – I just like my doughnuts!) that is the part that can sting the most.  That’s the tackle I take – that’s the pain in this sport.  You can’t be something you’re not.  In some ways, it’s a disservice to our own community – the gay population is supposed to be all about acceptance and freedom; a judge-free zone of tolerance and understanding.  Gay men can be some of the most judgmental people, especially to each other.  When you’re in this population of people who thrive on inclusion, to be ostracized for not meeting up to the standards can be confusing and counter-productive.  It’s a side effect of signing up for Grindr: if you’re going make the play, be prepared to take the hit.

Ultimately, that’s what Grindr really is: some weird, fucked-up mind game gay guys play with each other.  I say this as someone who has checked their Grindr profile two times in the last hour.

I’m playing the game, but I am, by no means, the MVP.  I’m more like second string, showing up for practice, still trying to figure out the strategy and perfecting my plays.

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Years May Go By

Two years later. Time to take inventory.

So what have I been up to for the last two years?

My last journal entry left off in March of 2009. I found it extremely interesting that the last topic I wrote about was anticipation. I didn’t know what I was waiting for or excited about, but I knew I was anticipating it’s arrival. I am going to pick up where I left off - and hope you are going to join me for the ride.

March 2009 - July 28, 2009

My last journal entry left off describing how I felt unsatisfied by work and how I wanted to start focusing on and taking better care of myself. Funny how such little can change in such a long period of time.

It also talked about my potential trip to Italy.

One aspect of my personality that I’ll never deny is my amazing work ethic. When a job is put in front of me I’ll attack with full devotion and do the best that I can do. That was the situation when working at the Beneficial branch at 12th and Chestnut. I went to work everyday and did the best job that I knew I could do. Despite not feeling like it was where I belonged any longer I had a sweet setup and I trudged along giving it my all.

In addition, the job at the branch suddenly became essential. At the end of March 2009 I made a decision to move out with Kimmy and Katie effective May 15. The three of us toured a beautiful house at the corner of 2nd and Jackson Streets. The house was absolutely stunning; everything -- bathroom, appliances, etc. - were brand new and the house had just been gutted and done over. However, we also toured another house off of 5th and Oregon that I loved, loved, loved so much more than the 2nd and Jackson house. This house, too, had recently been completely remodeled and was beautiful. I let the K’s sway my decision to select the 2nd and Jackson house because Katie felt the 5th and Oregon house was too small. I felt it was perfect, but the house on 2nd did offer more than the other so I made the decision to live there.

I had started to feel like I “needed” to get out of my Mom’s house. I let myself talk myself into believing I was a loser for still living at home and I “needed” to be more independent. It was a moment in time that I felt I had to try to make it out in the world again. Plus, 2nd and Jackson was not far from home, it wasn’t urban living like when I lived at 13th and Spruce, I could still visit home and see the dog, plus I was living in a full two story house, not a studio apartment, with two of my best friends. I could pull it off this time.

For the remainder of March, all of April and half of May I saved my money and prepared to move the middle of May.

The move went smoothly for me because I had such little belongings to take with me. Moving in was a festive time and I was excited about the future. On the other hand, I still had a nagging feeling that this was not a good decision to make. I ignored my instincts and tried to enjoy this new adventure that lay in front of me.

My instincts were almost immediately proven right. Before we moved in and thereafter, I was warned by various people that the teenagers in the area were wild, like animals, and that they hung out on our steps. I had no idea what “hung out on the step” meant and, at the worst, I figured we would shoo children off our steps here and there. No big deal.

Wrong.


What began as a few teenagers on our front step, soon turned in to HOARDS of them as the summer progressed. When we would go out and ask them to leave they would curse us out and then eventually it turned into throwing items, such as basketballs and bricks, at our front door and windows. Oddly, they would only gather between the hours of 10pm and midnight. The police were absolutely useless and did nothing, despite us calling every single night of the week. It eventually turned into a situation where we all hated being home and I would try to find any excuse imaginable to not be there.

I could list countless examples of situations we encountered while we lived at that house, but it just infuriates me when I think about it so I’ll save myself the regression. Suffice to say, I hated every minute of living in that house.

During the time when I realized what a huge mistake I made moving into that house, the Italy dream was morphing into a reality. Karen, owner and director of International Opera Theater, and I formed a bond during the spring of 2009 and I committed to traveling to Italy with the opera company. I couldn’t believe that it was going to become a reality until it finally did on July 28, 2009.

Before Italy, though, Katie, Kimmy and I traveled to Austin, Texas. As fate would have it, of course, Tori was touring the east coast during the months I was going to be in Italy. But I *had* to see her!! I could not miss a Tori tour!! My only option was to travel to Austin, Texas and see her in concert. I feared I would have to go alone, which, believe me, I totally would have done, but Katie and Kimmy were both able to come along for the trip!

I won’t write too much about the trip because the pictures that I have from that adventure pretty much capture it all, but it was one of the most amazing experiences I’ve ever had. I fell in love with Austin and I often think about moving there. Seriously, if someone called me up out of the blue tomorrow and said, “I have a job for you in Austin,” my reply would be, “See you in a few days.” I would have no hesitation to pick up and live there. That weekend in Austin was such a phenomenal trip. I enjoyed every single minute there.

Ciao Bella!: July 28, 2009 - September 1, 2009

The day to leave for Italy had arrived. I was terrified.

The night before I left to go abroad I hosted a dinner to say goodbye to me at the Olive Garden at Broad and Chestnut. I will never forget this night as long as I live. What I thought was going to be a few people turned out to be over 30+ individuals all gathered to wish me good luck. I have never felt so loved in my whole life. I really, truly felt special and cared for that night. The amount of love and warmth that I received that night was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my life and is something I hope everyone gets to experience at least once in their lives. I often think about that dinner and wonder if it was real or not.

My favorite moment of that whole night came after the dinner was over. I had walked over to Lauren’s grandmom’s house and sat on her front step and we just talked. I have no idea what we talked about: probably what I thought Italy was going to be like and how different it would be to not see each other for so long. I distinctly remember thinking: “I won’t see her or anyone in Philly for a month and a half. I don’t know what is going to happen.” I remember leaving her that night and thinking, “Okay, here I go...” and I did.

As I traveled the nightmarish journey from Philly to Rome (four layovers - altogether a day and half journey, which saw me get yelled at by angry German border patrol agents and falling asleep in Austrian airports) I wrote this, trying to recap, at that time, my year to date:

_________________________________

Half way through 2009.

Half way over the Atlantic Ocean on my way to Europe (central Italy to be exact).

Let’s take it one step at a time.

The first half of this year was merely a mish mash of days coming and going. The New Year, as it always does, started out with the annual, and typical, New Year’s Eve celebration at my Mom’s house and the New Year’s Day parade. Although, this year, because of budgeting (what else?) the parade was in jeopardy of not occurring. It eventually did but with limits, less time for the parade and a shortened route.

What was particular about this New Year’s was that Joei, for her own personal reasons, flew home from Florida to Philadelphia after Thanksgiving of 2008 and stayed on until Valentine’s Day 2009. Having her in Philly again was…nostalgic. Joei doesn’t change much and her most recent visit was evidence of that (I‘ll never forget walking into Colburn‘s and seeing somebody we knew from grade school, who didn‘t look all that hot. Joei walked out of the deli, saying: “Ew! She looked horrible! What is wrong with her? I can‘t believe you talked to it! When we get home I‘ll inspect you for lice.” Joei was completely and utterly serious.)

New Year’s, for me, has always been a time of seeing distant friends and celebrating with them, making new memories with old, comfortable companions. Joei was around for some weekends, attended a bar outing or two. The first night she came to visit for the New Year holiday we both slept in my bedroom and it was like being 16 again. Same people, same environment, same silly problems and vapid gossip. It felt warm and welcome.

When she eventually went back to Florida it was of absolutely no surprise and it didn’t hurt because I already knew she would never stay here.

When she went to college and then broke up with Dante, and eventually lost touch with me altogether, with the exception of the occasional phone call or random MySpace message, I felt really angry at her and uncomfortable with our friendship. This most recent trip of hers, being able to spend time with her and listening to her side of so many different topics and life events, was the end of that anger and awkwardness for me. She’ll always be there, somewhere, in my head and my heart. She’ll always be Joei. Her visit was re-visiting situations that had happened years ago and events I was not able to let go of. Because of her trip to Philly and being able to ask questions and dive for answers, I was not only able to let go of my emotional wounds -- whether this is because I’ve grown as a person myself or because there was some sort of mental reconciliation that happened while she was in Philly -- but also able to accept her for who she is and understanding, at least a piece, of her core.

Artful Writing was the one and only class I took during the spring semester at Rosemont and I was also working on my thesis as well, supposed to be completed in May. Artful Writing was a terrific class and I felt like I learned a lot in it (although, I still have yet to check my grade for it). It was also the end of my course work at Rosemont, which means I have nothing left to complete other than this internship in Italy and my thesis. Artful Writing was probably the best way to end Rosemont because it was truly the most structured, but independent, class that I enrolled in and it also allowed me to be creative within borders - and I very much like limits and borders. As I mentioned, I still haven’t checked my grade for it, which I am sure is an A, but I think there might be a deeper meaning behind me hesitating to check my final result. I’ll explore that at some other point in time.

Artful Writing ended the last week in April. And what was supposed to be my thesis deadline was the last week in May.

This did not occur.

My Master’s thesis project was quite the mess. Originally, it started out all the way back in November 2008 during a lunch between Sharon and myself. We were discussing thesis options when she volunteered that she was working on a new self-hypnosis CD and she wanted assistance in marketing her product. This was absolutely perfect for me, as I am getting a Master’s Degree in Publishing with a concentration in marketing. She had a publishable project and wanted to market it. What a fantastic thesis project!

I should’ve known better before entering in a quasi-business arrangement with Sharon. When I worked with her at Sisters Painting she bailed on me and left me with Crazy Ann. Integrating Bodyworks had serious potential until she left me bankrupt and without a plan B and bailed on me yet again. There was definitely a pattern of getting bailed on by her, but this was my Master’s thesis. Surely, she wouldn’t bail on me for such an important project - would she?

Yes, she would.

After two months of drawing up an amazing, wonderful marketing plan for her dumpy little project, we had a meeting in which I went over the entire marketing plan in full and she met each one of my over-the-top fantastic and innovative ideas with a shrug and a “maybe”. Half way through the meeting I stopped her and told her I didn’t feel like she was taking this project very seriously. Up to this point it had taken two months just for me to sit down and meet with her and now, here it was: April -- and my project needed to be completed in a month an a half. Hello, Sharon! What’s the prob?!

The prob, apparently, was that I wasn’t marketing the product she wanted me too. During one of our early meetings in December 2008 she mentioned she was starting a weight loss hypnosis system. The original plan was for me to market her self-hypnosis stress reducing CD. The stress relief CD had already been produced at this point and there was an actual product to market, whereas, God knew how long it would take her to record and materialize her Kraft Fat Free system or whatever.

Sharon had, according to her, “not been understanding” why I was going forward with the stress relief marketing plan because she wanted to focus on and market her You’re Fat - But Not! CD. She never told me this and I wish she had because I would have dropped out of working with her on my thesis.

_________________________________

I also wrote about two pages explaining the whole living in the Jackson Street house situation, but I figured that would be best left out.

I don’t know how to sum up the Italy experience. The more business/academic related topics have been addressed in my 50+ page thesis project, which I went to Italy as a Plan B after Sharon bailed on me.

I tell people all the time that it changed my life and it most absolutely, definitely did. Traveling to another country, all by my lonesome, made me aware I am more courageous than I give myself credit for. Also, my ability to form personal and close bonds while away also surprised me. I’m not that shy, quiet person I often brand myself as. There was a situation in Italy when I was telling one of my famous stories and I described myself as meek and the entire group started hysterically laughing because they just did not believe I could ever be meek. Realizing that’s how I came off just blew my mind because, in my head, I am shy and quiet, but that is just not how I show myself to the world.

So much happened in Italy, so many experiences, most of which I’ll probably never write about or elaborate on, but when all mooshed together it created an unbelievable experience that I’ll always give credit to for making me feel like anything is possible. Aside graduating from Drexel and Rosemont, it’s probably the life experience I am the most proud of.

When the Italy experience had ended I was very much ready to return home. I actually changed flights from a later date to much earlier to fly home. Rather than fly straight to Philly I flew to D.C. to see my Grandmom for a few days and then, in a bizarre twist, drove back to Philly with Kristina, where I returned to my terrific (sarcasm) house on Jackson Street.

Going through customs in Detroit was quite the experience. I almost missed my connecting plane to D.C., but made it by a half an hour. That whole trek -- landing in Detroit, sweating in customs that I wouldn’t make my plan, running for my flight -- meant something to me. It was the end of this crazy foreign experience I never thought would ever take place.


Welcome (Back) to Philly: September 1 - December 31, 2009

I told myself when I left for Italy that, upon returning, if the teenage situation did not calm down I was going to leave the house, despite Kimmy and Katie. I did not listen to myself.

My first night back in the Jackson St. house I was there all by myself. Katie and Kimmy decided to take a whirlwind vacation to Vegas and wouldn’t be returning until well after I had come back home. That first night the teenagers gathering outside on our front step as they did ritually. I hid in my room upstairs just hoping for them to go away, completely miserable and alone. I wanted to leave so badly, but I felt too much guilt over sticking the K’s with all the bills.

When the K’s did return from Vegas, of course I didn’t mention any of this. I really was thrilled to see them and we caught each other up on the past month and a half of our lives.

Not long after returning home, I decided to leave the branch and start looking for back office positions. It was mid-October when I decided I wanted to explore other positions in the bank. My Rosemont course work was now over, meaning I was no longer juggling attending classes and working and I didn’t have to worry about being somewhere after work at a certain time, which 12th Street was great for since the branch was down the street from the train station.

In late October/early November I was offered the position of payroll specialist in the human resources department. I accepted the position. This is more of a 2010 story so I’ll wait until the recap of this year to really get into that. Still, I honestly don’t know if I regret accepting this job or not. I’ve learned a ton, but also suffered quite a bit. Again, I’ll cover this all in the 2010 recap.

As far as the thesis project, the Italian internship gave me all the ammo I needed to attack the project full force and with my OCD riddled and kooky thesis advisor I was able to go full steam ahead. I have to give my thesis advisor full credit. She really pushed me and forced me to do the best job I was capable of doing. There were so many instances when I just didn’t care and she threw it in my face and forced me to really go the extra mile to make the project great. Granted, the project was not complete until January 2010 most of October, November and December saw me working on my thesis project and making it the best that I could. My thesis is not what I imagined it would be when I began writing it, and there was a slump in the process of completing it when I absolutely hated it, but it turned into something I am very proud of and legitimately can say I want my name attached to.

The year ended with the culmination of the Jackson Street house situation. About a week before Christmas, Philadelphia was slammed with the first of three wonderful blizzards that destroyed our city with mounds and mounds of snow! Normally, this would be something I would rejoice over, but instead, the teenagers in our neighborhood made the snow grenades and pelted our house nightly with ice and snow bullets.

One night Kimmy, Katie and I were sitting around our house, and after each one of us had an extended altercation with one of the children that evening, one of them decided to throw an ice block at our front door that was about the size of a small microwave. This ice block shattered our wooden front door down the middle.

That was the moment I decided to move out. My decision was echoed by Kimmy’s agreement that we should leave and Katie, though I don’t think she really wanted to, was going to look for another place.

Please keep in mind this one incident was fueled by months of similar incidents, though to a minor degree. I couldn’t take anymore. I was miserable and hated living there and the thought of moving out of there was a blessing I couldn’t wait to see materialize.

As 2009 came to a close I was beginning a new job and getting ready to move back home.

Two steps forward; two steps backwards.

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The Fear

Anticipation.

That’s what I feel more than any these days.

I think that because I have two big nights out next weekend -- Friday night with Beneficial and Saturday night the Irish Pub Bus Crawl -- I am feeling more anxious and excited than I normally would on a Sunday night. It’s important, I think, to have events to look forward to or else what is the point?

The last “big” night out was Valentine’s Day and I have not been drinking or drunk since (a glass of wine here and there does not count). I have actually made some progress with the marketing plan. In fact I am basically done I just need to put the elements together. I guess there was something to my theory of making progress in school matters in lieu of not getting wasted every weekend.

I have not mentioned this to anyone because I know my history with this sort of thing, but, despite everything, I have still been attempting to study abroad. Because of Jeff, I was introduced to a woman who banks with us named Karen who runs and is the president of the International Opera Theatre Company that based out of Philadelphia (because that is where Karen is located) but performs opera all over the world. Needless to say, I know nothing about opera, but the potential for a great internship involving marketing and business management, which is my concentration in my publishing program, is certainly there. The money this time is not an issue as the loan has already been approved and the check deposited. There is no apparent reason why this shouldn’t work this time around. I would be going to Italy for the entire month of August -- possibly to Canada for two weeks in July but that is dependent on costs. That is another positive situation that is going on right now. Whatever happens happens and because of my past study abroad situations I am just waiting for this to fail as well so I really have no expectations, which saves me from getting my hopes up.

Work is weird. I am getting frustrated because I feel like I have grown beyond my job title and am doing the jobs of three other people and getting the salary of somebody who is not nearly as qualified and dedicated as I am. With our extended hours comes a lot of extra work, especially at the end of the day, and we desperately need another part-time teller but Jeff keeps telling us that they will not approve another employee in our branch. So, because of the executive decision, I nearly lose my mind every day trying to do the job of three people. I am not exaggerating. It gets hectic and overwhelming almost to the point of insanity. I still genuinely like everyone I work with, although there are days I can’t stand them. It’s very much like a family.

At times I feel guilty for bitching about my job because I know that I am lucky right now to even have a job. There are days where I just want to quit and, in a better economic climate, I would just find another job but then Suze Orman comes on MSNBC and proclaims, “The world is going to be destroyed by job loss and poverty! Good luck to you all! I’ll be praying for you in my Manhattan condo. Next caller!” I don’t know. I feel like if I believe bullshit like that I am playing into the collective condition of fear right now.

It’s not that I dislike the banking world, it’s not that at all actually because I actually quite enjoy it, but a.) it’s not what I’ve been going to school for six years for and b.) as I’ve mentioned, I’ve grown beyond my job title. I want to do more, take on more responsibility and be challenged in a different way that I have been since I’ve started. Making more money would not be a negative.

But, for now, I will continue to move along at the bank and finish up my coursework at school. I need to stop taking on more situations than I can handle.

In other news, Kimmy recently signed up for Aikido classes, which is something I know she has been thinking about for a long while. I really commend her for that and I think it's really amazing that Kimmy is making a goal come to fruition.  I mean, think about it, that takes balls.  I certainly don't have the courage to just join a club where I don’t know a single person and scream things like, "HI YAH!" or "GIJJY TO FUN HO!"  That is motivating to me and I want to do something to that does not involve school or work. Something just for me. I am looking into joining a pool league. A summer or two ago Philly Danielle and I had a discussion while on vacation in Wildwood, during that crazy motorcycle weekend, about me trying to form some kind of gay pool league in Philly but with work and school I couldn't take that on and I still can't but there are pool leagues in Philly and there is also the APA (Ameatur Pool Association) so I am going to start investigating. 

This idea has brought on an issue that has been stewing inside of me that I have known has been there but I sort of dismiss: I am very afraid of rejection, to the point where I am paralyzed by it. I am so terrified by the idea of joining something like a pool league because I don’t know anyone and I have this elementary school like fear that everyone is going to meet me and laugh at me until I run away crying. I know that a majority of people are hesitant to walk into a situation where they don’t know anyone but I wonder if their hesitation dips as far into fear as my feelings do. Like I mentioned in my last journal entry, though, deep fear is usually a sign I am headed in the right direction.

I’ll keep you posted...

We’ll back to anticipation. As I am present in this moment, I feel a strong urge to be aware and this makes me eager for some reason -- and waiting. Waiting for what I am not sure, but, whatever it is, I will sit in the moment with a exciting anticipation burning inside of me.

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Chasing Tornadoes

Despite not getting much done this weekend, I have learned what some of the problems are with me and getting motivated.

To begin with, for the past several weekends I used the mantra “if I didn’t go out I would get stuff done.”  That was my Big Excuse, my way out.  If I didn’t have such a hopping and active social life (ha!) I would have time to sit at home and work, work, work.  Well, this weekend proved that wrong…kind of.





I turned my phone off Saturday afternoon to avoid distractions. Completely turned it off.  No one could get a hold of me and I really wanted it that way.  During the work week all I have are people coming at me, asking me questions, needing something from me, always around me, surrounding me.  And, at times, I absolutely hate it.  This weekend I figured if I cut myself off all I would have to focus on is me and what I needed to get done.



 

Yesterday, Saturday, I slept the entire day.  No, really, the entire day.  I went to bed at 10:30 Friday night and woke up at 1 p.m. yesterday.  Then I fell back to sleep at 5 and slept until 1 p.m. today.  Sleep seems to be my escape.  Whenever I feel beat up and completely worn out sleep is like me plugging in to recharge my battery.  I woke up today and felt great.



 

The first issue was my thesis.  I had to get something done today.  My thesis, for those of you who don’t know (or care), is based around Sharon’s idea.  She has created a CD for relieving stress; a hypnotic suggestive trance-like track that puts people at ease.  It’s really an amazing CD (although, I admit, I haven’t had much experience listening to trance inducing CDs) and I believe in it.  A few months ago (December, maybe?  November?)  I was talking to Sharon about possible thesis ideas and she suggested that I act as a marketing manager for her product.  This idea was based on the fact that, at the time, I was taking a Marketing and Sales class that I really invested a lot of time and energy into and was enjoying it (for the most part).  I thought it was a great idea because not only is it something I’m interested in, but it’s practical and I can learn from it.  The alternative was, basically, writing a 50-page paper which I can do in my sleep.  I wanted to do something different and that had a practical edge to it.  Something I could maybe talk about on job interviews or even mention in a resume.



 

So, in effect, my thesis is creating a full scale marketing plan for Sharon's CD, putting that marketing plan into affect and then recording our results, reactions and challenings in a 10-15 page paper.



 

I called Sharon today because, before I can really map out her marketing plan, I have to get certain information from her.  I have been avoiding this for almost two months now and I am still not sure why I have been not making the phone call to her.  I realized why today.  I called her and started asking her questions about how she wants to market the product, who she wants to market it to, what avenues she wants to explore when marketing, etc.  Her answers were all the same,  “I don’t know.  I haven’t thought about it.”  I was really annoyed because the last time we spoke about this in early January I asked her to start thinking about these things so I can gear the marketing plan to her wants and desires.  And it was during this conversation I realized why I have been avoiding my thesis: because I have no idea what I am doing.  Not that I don’t know what I am doing in reference to framing and structuring the marketing plan, but I can't formulate a marketing plan around a product that the author doesn’t know how she wants to get it out there.  And, quite honestly, I feel this has ALWAYS been Sharon’s problem when it comes to new products and ventures.  That’s a whole other issue, though.  




After that phone conversation I said to myself, “Okay, I’m on my own.”  And I am when it comes to this thesis.  Sharon doesn’t know what the hell she wants or, furthermore, what I need from her.  Now that I know it’s all up to me I’ve already formulated a plan of action.  I already have an idea of who our demographic is going to be.  I know what I am going to start researching.  Before today, I had none of these answers.  Despite not having done any of the research yet, I have a plan of action!  Yay!!  This is more than I’ve had in the last two months!  I think I’ll actually have the marketing plan done by March!




The other plus about not going out this weekend is having money in my wallet on Sunday night.  I don’t have to worry about somehow making it through the week on $15.  Hooray!




I feel like a fog has lifted this weekend.  Yesterday, and the past two months, I wrestled through the mist, walked through, then slept in it.  Today I woke up and found that all I had to do to solve my own problems was surrender to them.




Although I missed going out and I didn’t have an once of alcohol this weekend there will always be other weekends and there are always the weekends that were.




I have been thinking about something Lauren and Katie said last weekend before they went to see Friday the 13th .  They said, “We like going to scary movies.  It’s a thrill.  Sometimes it’s fun to be scared.”  I’ve thought about that like every day since then and I realized I am terrified of scary movies because I am afraid every day of my life.  But it’s not a bad scared.  It’s a challenging, healthy scared.  I don’t need movies to make me scared.  I am scared going to work every day.  School scares the shit out of me.  The future always looms.  Why do I need something external to make me afraid?  Again, it’s not a daunting, uncomfortable fear.  It’s something that I think I need to keep marching forward.  Something that helps me reach goals and capture dreams.  I think my fear drives me…




…and I am sure now that I have it re-channeled it will fuel the new power I found this weekend in getting my thesis completed.

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Work and Play They're Never Okay To Mix The Way I Do

I haven’t done this for some time. I don’t even know when the last time I wrote something just for me was.

I am disappointed that I haven’t written a recap of 2008. My yearly reviews have always been fun to write because I get to glance over the past year and then I always have that review to look back on. Who knows? Maybe I will still write it, but I know how it goes when I plan to write something some time later. I still have an outline of Memorial Day 2007 (one of the best days I’ve ever had -- ever) on a notepad by the computer that I’ve been meaning to get to. As you can tell for some time now.

This semester at Rosemont I am enrolled in a class titled Artful Writing. So far, it’s a groovy class. The whole idea of the class is learning about writing by exposing yourself to other mediums (i.e., drawing, music, movement, etc.) I was enrolled in a class called Legal Issues in Book Publishing and at the last minute I decided to switch classes. I am also working on my thesis this semester and I wanted a class that was not going to be overwhelming. A class that I could manage and work on my thesis at the same time and what better than an artsy fartsy writing class. Possibly the most rewarding part of the class so far is that I am writing again and making it an important issue in my life. We have to “journal” once or twice a week about whatever topic we are discussing in class and anything that is related to our writing. In my journal this week I wrote about why I don’t write anymore and it turned up that I don’t think it is important. The only reason I am writing now is because it is a part of my class for school. And for the last year between work and school I never made it a priority to nourish that part of me that wanted to write. Before 2008, writing in my blog was my writing release because I genuinely enjoyed it, but once work started to become a larger part of my life and school became significantly more intense I let it go.

Maybe this class will reintroduce me to that part of myself that wants to write...

In any event, 2009 so far as been surprisingly animate. Every weekend since the beginning of the year has had some sort of drunken adventure attached to it. 2008 saw The 4 H Club, and everyone I know really, slow down immensely when it came to the drinking scene. I had really thought that my main party days were behind me. Apparently, not so much. I don’t know why we’ve been so party-centric lately, but I am certainly not complaining. Although, it is starting to get in the way of more important things...

I am a month behind on my thesis. This is probably an exaggeration because if I worked on it for a week straight when I came home from work I could probably get relatively caught up. It’s very difficult for me to get up the energy, after a hectic day at work (and, believe me, every single day at that branch is hectic) to illicit the motivation and mental energy involved when working on my thesis. Or anything school involved for that matter. As I go into every week, I say to myself, “This will be the week that I get going. This will be the week I figure it out.” The week flies by and diddly squat.

Situations like this past Saturday night arise. I wake up late on Saturday and feel that, finally, after the week is over, I can have a day, one day, where I am devoid of responsibility. I can sit in my bed and be lazy, despite needing to work on homework and various other projects I have going on or want to get started. Saturday is the day I chose to take off and, despite everything I have to do, I feel that is valid.

A nagging voice inside my head screams, “Get to work, you lazy piece of shit.” but I can’t move. I lay in my bed, luxuriously reading, and thinking, “Later. I will do it later.” Then comes later and nothing.

A phone call. Lauren. And she says, “We are going out tonight. We are going to Whiskey Tango. You should come out and have fun.” And I really want to. God, I really, really want to. But that nagging voice in my head berates me because instead of being productive like I know I could be I am leaning towards going out with my friends and drinking. And, of course, the choice I make is to go out and enjoy myself.

So I go get drunk and do stupid things and have a great time. Did I make an ass out of myself on Saturday night? Probably, a little bit (or a lot), but who gives a shit? It was fun and makes a great story.

But now here I am on Sunday with nothing accomplished. Do I feel like I let off a little steam and am recharged enough to begin the work week? Yes, I do. But I am not really sure how to balance that out with what I could have accomplished if I had tried at working rather than playing.

I know that the thesis thing will all work out and I will come up with a great project -- or, if nothing else, an acceptable project. It’s such a challenge for me to balance out my time. I’m really shitty at time management when it comes to these issues. At work, I’m awesome at figuring out a time schedule. I’m not sure how to translate that personally.

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A Moment Lost

Quotes of the Month:

Lauren: "I want to be Harley Quinn from Batman for Halloween. I went online to try and buy the costume but they only had extra small, small and medium! So what I am going to do is buy all three and sew them together -- it should fit me then."

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Kimmy (running in from another room, excited and out of breath): "I'm retarded!"

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Kimmy, commenting on drinking to the point of blacking out: "My life is like a puzzle you buy from a thrift store. You just know that some pieces are going to be missing."



I realized today, in fact minutes ago, that I've only written six blogs this year. SIX BLOGS in ten months. That is insane to me. I used to write a blog every one to two weeks and now I am down to a blog once every one to two months.

I am starting to question my priorities. Is it weird that blogging is important to me? I used to think that I was lying to people when I would rant and bitch about how busy I was. Could it be that I was never lying at all? In my quest to feel important did I wipe away all the things that mattered to me because I suddenly am too fueled trying to fulfill requirements from the outside world?

I narrowed down that the blogging stopped at the end of last year. Even though chunks of time would pass between each blog entry last year I was pretty consistent in keeping track of events and what was happening in my life. Then 2008 steam rolled me and I stopped writing -- not just blogs, but completely.

It's interesting to note that since the beginning of this year trying to cram everything has been an issue for me. I want to meditate at least four times a week. I don't do it. I want to go to the gym at least four times a week. I don't do it. I want to blog more -- or just write in general. I don't do it. I have an idea for a play; I like to blog; I have an idea how to use all these pictures I clip out of magazines with a notebook I have -- I don't care if any of these pursuits get me published or recognized or anything at all. I would like to pursue these ideas just for my own creativity and satisfaction but I never do.

I don't know how to balance my time. I don't know how to work 40 hours a week -- sometimes more -- attend graduate school full time and still have energy left over for my own personal outlets.

I know that part of me is just lazy. Days when I have off from work or when I actually have down time I know that I could work towards these personal projects. I feel so drained from everything that I "have" to do (school, work) that adding something else to the list is not tempting and I lie listless in front of the TV trying to ramp myself up to do something worth doing but never accomplish to do it.

But is that really lazy or it is it just exhaustion?

I want to start taking more time for me and I don't know how to begin. Do I drink more coffee and get less sleep? Do I start neglecting responsibilities just to make some personal time? If I start neglecting responsibilities and then I start feel like I am not living up to my own potential does that make up for the personal time I am gaining?

For example, there are about 50 different topics I would like to write about right now. However, I am pretty tired and I have to get ready for work tomorrow and I just don't have it in me to sit down and write a 20 page blog. "Don't have it in me" -- is that just an excuse or is that completely valid? What exactly don't I have in me? How does somebody become more energized?

How do I get so motivated to do my own things that being tired doesn't matter anymore?

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What If I Could Hold On But Then Would Nightmares Turn Back Into Dreams Once Again?

AUGUST 19, 2008

---- The subject line is from Tori Amos' "Miracle", a bonus track from American Doll Posse. ----




A bit has been happening as of late. Let's see where I left off and where I am going.

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The last journal entry I wrote right after my birthday. I told myself that I was going to write about the events that took place on my birthday -- and I still want to -- but I haven't organized it enough in my head to write something about it that non-participants could follow. It'll come, though. Soon. Hopefully. It was, without a doubt, the best birthday I've ever had. For many reasons, but, again, that will come in the birthday blog. Soon. Hopefully.

The one "fun" (the quotes will be explained as you read...) trip that I had planned this summer was going to Maine with my Grandmom, my Uncle Jay, my cousin, Brandon and my Mom. The trip took place between August 9 till the 16th.

It was horrible.

First of all, I haven't spent an extended period of time (longer than two days) with my Grandmom in a long while and I forgot about all of her wonderful personality traits -- criticism, nagging, fear of losing control, repression on herself and those around her -- and I have never spent an extended period of time with my Uncle Jay and I came to find out on this trip that he is a lot like my Grandmom. Brandon, my 20-year-old cousin, is also a unique story. I think the abuse that he suffered from my Aunt Kimmie and Jay really fucked with his head and now he seems unable to function like a young adult. He has these moments of regression where he will smack the dog and squeal like a chipmunk, then laugh uncontrollably, or, in a moment of quiet, smack the table and scream for no reason. It's a little unsettling and very irritating, but I can't blame him. How do you deal with having insane, abusive parents? Clearly, that was his survival mechanism as he matured and he never grew out of it.

These were the people I spent my vacation with. My Mom never seemed so great as when coupled with that Motley Crew.

The vacation started off on Saturday morning when I was told that my luggage was too large to fit in the van and that I had to repack in ten minutes. Um, okay...? I had packed for 8 days, summer and winter (because it's never just warm or cool in Maine -- it's always both. One day while we were there the temperature didn't get above 65; another, it went up to 85) and we had no washer or dryer. My Grandmom then tosses an overnight bag at me and tells me that's all she's got. So I packed four outfits for over a week. I ran out of clothes by Tuesday. Fun.

The time in Maine was a nightmare. We stayed in a cabin in the woods, overlooking the harbor. Beautiful, yes, but it's not practical, because it's necessary to drive everywhere in Maine. And, guess what, Jay didn't want to drive anywhere. Stuck in this cabin with no TV, no computer (remember: my laptop couldn't fit in the van) and no cell phone reception, all I had were books. After reading for two days straight I couldn't even make out the words on the page anymore. By Thursday, I was going out of my mind with boredom. The only non-cabin activity we did was eat out -- so basically I did nothing on this vacation but get fat, grumpy and miserable. I can get fat at home and be upbeat and excited about it.

Combine this prison cell of a cabin with my Grandmom and Jay's unyielding complaining and bitching and you have one fantastic week of wasted vacation days. I think that's one of the things that pisses me off the most about the entire disaster: I wasted 5 fucking vacation days on that waste of time off from work. I'd rather had slept in my bed at home for a week than gone on that trip! Grandmom and Jay complained about anything and everything -- that's all they do is bitch, bitch, bitch. SHUT UP!! Nothing is good, everything is an issue and to be whined about. Next time someone tells me I whine too much I am trapping them in a cabin in Maine with those rays of sunshine for a week. NOTHING my Mom, Brandon or I did was right: we sleep too much, our showers are too long, we don't eat enough, we eat too much, I was too quiet, I was too loud, I wasn't active enough for them, I spend too much money, I waste water and food, my Mom smokes too much, she's too thin, I'm too fat...blah, blah, blah, blah. Shut the fuck up.

There's several long and miserable stories of tragedies inflicted upon me on that trip, but I'm not going to write them all -- it will get redundant and make me more irritated. Suffice to say never again will I vacation with those people.

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Aside from that horrible episode the summer has been fairly smooth. Thankfully, it's had it's share of party nights out with the Hags and I'm enjoying that part of life.

What is distressing me is that I'm having a mid-twenties crisis. I don't really know who to talk to. Normally, it would be Sharon, but I don't even really know where to begin that telephone conversation.

"Hi, Sharon. It's Michael! What's up? I don't know what direction I'm taking my life. Have a few minutes?"

I was hoping that I would just spill it out in a blog and then one day I'd check my MySpace page and some enlightened person would have all the answers in a helpful comment.

Ha!

If nothing else it'll help me organize my thoughts.

Lately, I've been thinking about where I'm heading. I'm an English major who works as a teller manager at a bank. I'm working towards a Masters degree in Publishing.

I'm already confused.

The bank job just sort of happened. I needed a job to earn money. The opportunity arose. I jumped on it. I started as a part time teller, like I said just to have money, not thinking anything about it.

And then, somewhere along the way, I started to like the people I worked with, like genuinely care about them. For example, while on vacation, I wanted to call the bank and talk to Chris and Jeff and Jessica and Donna and see what was going on. Then, somewhere along the way, I started to like the job. And it's not even so much that I like the job, but the job is made wonderful by the people. I don't wake up in the morning dreading work. It's something I have to do and that's okay, because, most of the time, I like it.

Eventually, I went from part-time to full-time. And then I became back-up head teller. Finally, I learned how to do almost everything and now it's second nature. This all happened within a year's time.

What's the problem you ask? This isn't my field. I didn't go to school to be a banker, but I would actually be okay if that's how life turned out. Not necessarily in the position that I have now, but working the banking arena wouldn't be a negative for me. What then happens to my English/Publishing degrees?

I keep questioning if I should continue with the publishing degree or if I should maybe look into some kind of finance degree. Then again, if I switched up every time something caught my fancy, I'd never get anywhere. And I haven't dedicated almost six years of my life -- not to mention the cost of tuition -- to my field of study to pick another one.

Granted, I don't have my degree in publishing yet and the job at Beneficial is still a job to rely on while in school.

It gets complicated here: why not hunt for a publishing relating job while working at the bank?

The study abroad internship.

Beneficial will hold my position at the bank if I decide to study abroad for three months. If I went out and landed a publishing related job somewhere in Philadelphia and then was accepted into a study abroad internship I would come home to no job and, thus, no means of income.

It's also a matter of salary. For the job that I perform everyday, and my attitude as I perform my responsibilities and my willingness to bend my schedule to help out at the branch, I get paid pennies. In July I was given an amazing promotion that doesn't happen very often in Beneficial branches -- I was upped three notches -- and I still would *barely* be able to get by on what my annual salary is if I lived on my own. I am certain I could get hired at a small to medium sized publishing firm starting at about $10,000 more than I make now. Finding a job like that would take months, don't get me wrong, but it would probably happen. And, again, I'm willing to accept the lesser salary at the bank for the pleasure of having a work environment where I genuinely like the company of every person I work with. I've worked in places where I've hated my co-workers and, no matter what the salary is, you can't put a price on arriving at work knowing you will have a good day because you enjoy the people you're working with. Don't misunderstand me: my job at Beneficial is NOT easy (I don't care what anyone says. You do this shit day in and day out and then you can preach to me about how much more difficult your job is), but it has it's moments of cool.

We've come full circle here: it's between settling for what I have at the bank or looking for a publishing job, but then the study abroad issue comes into play and the fact that I've established a relationship and a respectable position where I am makes me hesitant to go anywhere.

Am I using this study abroad thing as an excuse to not branch out from Beneficial?

I go back to school the second week of September and, until then, I'm sending out mass e-mails concerning study abroad internships. I really feel like my resume would be boosted and stand out among others with an internship at a publishing company in another country planted on it. I'm not ready to give up on this just yet. Maybe I should. Life seems to be indicating that it's not happening.

School is also somewhat of an issue. Not what I am studying in school, just school itself. I was thinking about taking off the fall semester to figure out what exactly it is I want to do. Then, another thought: that's the worst thing I could do. I'd rather be actively working towards something, if only meagerly, than not working towards anything at all. I am going to try to take only one class in the fall, that will give me enough time to sort my head out, do the work related for school and then still have enough left over to deal with work. I don't even know if that's possible, though, because it's a financial aid issue; I need to take a certain amount of credits to receive government funding and one class doesn't cut it.

I don't know. Maybe I'll just join the Peace Corps and spend two years building houses in Guatemala. No, really, I've given this serious thought. I haven't ruled it out.

For all the work I've put in I still don't feel like my life has a clear direction.

Am I too young to be worrying about this? Should I care more about this in two or three years? When is it too late? Is it ever too late?

I'm not misdirected; I'm hard-working, organized, motivated, educated and focused.

I always feel like there is something I've missed and if I could only figure out what that tiny, small piece of the puzzle is I'd be on my way.

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Aside from that mental trap, I'm decent. Nothing is really wrong and I am not going to complain about anything in my life. I'm going with the flow, even if I don't always know where the current is taking me.

It's like I said at the beginning: let's see where I left off and where I am going.

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