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?

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.

JULY 7, 2008

My 25th birthday was the best birthday I've ever had…

But I'll write about that later.

For now, I've been listening to this song over and over and over since we went out on the 4th at a gay bar called Tavern on Camac that actually wasn't anything like Woody's or Key West and a place I would gladly go again.

And some events that happened that night have, naturally, had me thinking…

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"Boys in the Trees" is a song that is covered by Tori Amos (I saw her perform it in Washington D.C. on April 6, 2005) but has never been officially released by her.

The song is originally by Carly Simon and is track two on her album Boys in the Trees.

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I'm home again in my old narrow bed
where I grow tall and my feet hung over the end
and the low beam room with the window looking out
on the soft summer garden
where the boys grew in the trees



This is sort of how I felt my entire life. I'm home, at 210 McClellan Street, and this is pretty much the only home I've ever known. There was that stint were I moved out for seven months and hated most of it and then I moved home again and found I was suddenly too big for this little room.

I have more important things to do. But when? Maybe always. Maybe never.

Staring out a window is a perfect metaphor for how I have always felt about boys. Looking on with envy, as if stuck behind a pane of glass, wondering how to break out, watching men do boy things, like climb in trees, wrestle, rough house and then contemplate my own existence as a man because I don't enjoy any of those activities. I used to wonder if I went and tried to pretend to like these things if that would make me more like a man. Then one day I stopped caring.

What boys like to sit inside, read and write, and think? I did. I still do.

In the summer I sit inside in the air conditioning and wait until winter comes.

here i grew guilty
and oh what is it for?
frightened by the power of every innocent thought
and the silent understanding passing down
from daughter to daughter
let the boys grow in the trees

What is it for? Am I guilty or merely ashamed? And is it possible to ever get over that shame? Learning how to let go past emotional habits is the most difficult thing a human being can do and, yet, I feel like I am doing a steady, commendable job of it.

I don't know if "guilty" is the right word, but I can relate to the character in the song. A feeling of not-good-enough, inferiority, defeat – these adjectives describe my feelings towards men. And innocent thoughts – like holding hands with a guy, or wanting a guy to care enough about me to care whether or not I care – become hour long emotional tug-of-wars between that side of me that knows I'm worthy of these things and the other part of me that believes everything my Father every told me, and still repeats.

Nobody ever wins, the rope doesn't budge, but the feelings of confusion and want still remain.

When I listen to "Boys on the Trees" I don't hear "from daughter to daughter" I hear "from father to father" because for me it was the understanding that boys aren't queer – boys don't kiss other boys and the ones that do don't talk about it, and still have girlfriends. Yet, despite understanding this, I went against the mold and lived my own life – and suffer with the guilt of not living up to someone's else image of what I should have become.

Isn't that really what everyone's guilt is about anyway?

While I deal with all of this the boys become men in the trees and I feel that, even among the gay ones, there is no space for me in the branches.

do you go to them or do you let them come to you?
do you stand in back afraid that you'll intrude?
deny yourself and hope someone will see
and live like a flower
while the boys grow in the trees

"Do you go to them or do you let them come to you?" – This is, potentially, my favorite line in all of music because it's something I've always wanted somebody to answer for me. It's so simple to some people and, for people like me, there is no real answer to it. As, per example, on Saturday night I went up to him and talked to him, and then the conversation dwindled down – should I have given up? Should I have kept it up? Is rejection better than never knowing? Is never knowing the ultimate excuse?

And what if you do stand by and just watch? Can sitting by the window and never intruding be pleasant only in sense that by not getting involved you can never get hurt? Rejection isn't really an option. Then why I am always hurting? It's a numb, senseless hurt that has been there so long there it seems normal, but I know that it cannot be. I don't accept this as my reality. And the only thing to do is change…

But I am constantly denying myself that option. I fill my life with other things – work, school, friends, entertaining but senseless drama – and putting the gay part of me tucked away. Sure, everybody knows I'm gay, but you would never know it if you looked at my personal life. Where the boys are? Not here.

I'm waiting for some guy to notice how amazing I am – I'm ambitious, energetic, motivated, charming, loving, loyal, funny, – hysterical, if I do say so myself – and, most importantly, lonely.

Hope someone will see – that's an understatement.

All the while, nobody that I want to notice notices and the boys go along in the trees…

last night I slept in sheets the color of fire
tonight I lie alone again and I curse my own desires
sentenced first to burn and then to freeze
and watch by the window
as the boys grow in the trees

Night time I think is when it's hardest because I drift off to slept thinking of what I could be doing if only there was a live human guy next to me and not just Nathan, my devoted and faithful body pillow of many years.

On Saturday, my birthday, I told Philly Danielle if I could turn off my dick brain I gladly would. If I never felt sexually attracted to anybody I'm not so sure I would feel as horribly as I do sometimes. Not having somebody to touch, to kiss, to lean on, to grab…it only makes the wanting for somebody even more extreme.

Not only that, but I'd probably save a lot of money on porn.

I curse my own desires.

Sentenced first to burn and then to freeze – once you quench your own desires, the burning that seems almost unbearable, I'm left in the frostiness of the reality that it's just me, all by myself, in my air conditioned room, and the chill of the potential of never knowing romantic love is terrifying, but, at the same time, a little relieving. If I never have love, I'll never know what it is to lose it.

I'll curl up by my window and watch the boys in the trees…

JUNE 15, 2008

The subject line is the title of a song from Patty Griffin's album Impossible Dream.

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Quote of the Week:..:


An actual text message conversation between Kimmy and myself:



June 9, 2008 9:52 p.m.


Kimmy: I look like a side of bacon


Me: Then you must look pretty damn good!


Kimmy: Ooooo im burnt & crispy


Me: Hmmmm – I bet you are juicy with wet, hot grease!!


Me: OH BABY!!


Kimmy: ew…


Me: We are odd…


Kimmy: I hate us!


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Summer is an offbeat season for me.


A temporary rescue from the bitter cold isn't horrible. In fact, there are even days when I like to wear shorts and go outside and sweat a little. Summer has a way of making me feel young and hopeful and I think this may be built into everybody – wasn't summer always the season that school was out of session and kids were free to be, well, kids?


It's enjoyable to watch the nicely shaped men walk around in tank tops and I always feel hopeful that maybe one day – one day – I can do the same thing.


But then there are the days when it reaches 90+ degrees and I feel like I am going to pass out just by walking out the front door and, of course, the insane humidity from June til September means that I don't breathe during this period of time.


There is no balance for me during the summer – it's either okay or it's really, really not okay.


That's about how I feel right now.


The London situation, as always, is complicated. Everything that Kirstin and I have been told about London has been completely distorted and not correct. The previous Director of English and Publishing at Rosemont, a really wonderful woman, tried to hook us up with another university in London, Huron University. I think she wanted to build a bridge between Rosemont and Huron so as to have a marketable study abroad graduate program sort of thing when promoting the programs at Rosemont. The plan was for Kirstin and I to "attend" Huron or, basically, use their resources to find an internship and then pay Huron tuition.


I approached Rebecca, the Director, with this idea in October of 2007, so we have been working on this for over half a year.


When Rebecca presented Rosemont with this concept she was met with resistance. Rosemont was not going to give Kirstin or I the credits for our internship and was not going to aid us in any other way because they did not want to lose our tuition money. (Rosemont is in a terrible financial situation, which you can learn more about by visiting their website at: www.rosemont.edu).


Neither Kirstin or I understood this backhand from Rosemont and I was at my wits end. I wasn't willing to spend all of this money to go to London to not have it translate into credits. Rebecca said we were going to figure something out, but I was dubious. If after eight months we still we at square one then why all of a sudden would things clear up.


Things cleared up when Rebecca went away. I have nothing but respect for Rebecca, but she made the situation so much more complicated then it had to be.


I don't know exactly what but something happened, and apparently had been happening, between Rebecca and the higher-ups at Rosemont and she had decided to step down from her position as the Direction of the English and Publishing program at Rosemont. I felt like this was the end. She was the only one rooting for Kirstin and I to go to London and I thought if she wasn't involved than nothing was going to happen. Kirstin suggested meeting with the Interim Director of the program, Liz, who has an excellent reputation at Rosemont. Seeing no reason not to, we set up an appointment.


Thank God we did. Okay – are you ready for this? Rosemont has no problem with us going to London. We could go to Jibip and Rosemont wouldn't give two shits. All Kirstin and I have to do is find an internship and we can go to the moon and it wouldn't matter. Yes, that's right. All the two of us have to do is find an internship and we can go. Rosemont was not supporting us because they did not understand why we had to pay tuition to another school when Rosemont would be willing to take the credits if we found the internship on our own.


The reason this pisses me off so much is because had Kirstin and I been told this in say December of last year we would have our internship secured and everything would be taken care of, but now, in mid-June, we have to find an internship (not the easiest thing to do) and set everything up for the fall in three months. This may or may not happen. If worse comes to worse, I think we may have to put it off til spring although both of us are still working for fall.


So that's the London situation to date. We're looking for internships and hoping for the best. Honestly, now that I know the internship can be anywhere, I've also started looking into other countries. Originally, I wanted to study abroad in Australia…


Send successful energy my way. I need it!


Aside from that, I am completely burnt out. Between work and school I don't know which is more tiring. I think it's just the combo of the two, actually. Thankfully, this is the last week of Summer I and Summer II doesn't start until July 7 so I do have a nice two week vacation from school. Also, Summer II I am taking an online class as well so I will not need to travel to Rosemont twice a week, which is really the most exhausting part. I can't tell you how straining it is to get home at 11 o'clock at night and then have to wake up at 6 to go to work. I just am…done. I can't do it anymore. I just keep telling myself to get through this week and I'll have a little reprieve.


On a more positive, relaxing note, I do have vacation coming up the first week in July. I know that I am going to see Leslie in Lancaster for two days, probably that weekend, and I am also going to D.C. to visit my Grandmom. In fact, while in D.C. my Aunt Kimmie's awesome friend, Cindy, is going to be visiting at the same time so there will definitely be a night when Kimmie, Cindy and I go out for drinks – hooray!! They both are out of their minds and not afraid to get drunk. I am soooooooo looking forward to it!


My birthday is coming up as well and I haven't made any plans yet. I was going to make another web-site like I did last year and so I decided to visit the site that I made last year for ideas (it's a pretty rad site – I will probably keep the template). The time before my birthday last year was incredible and I forgot how excited I was about my life until I visited the site. Last year, around this time, I was getting ready to start Rosemont and Beneficial and everything was getting set up for this new life that I lead now. It's funny because I now have all of these things in my life that I wanted – grad school, a full-time job, responsibility – and I feel like now it's wearing me out. I need to take a break, but it's just not possible. True, I do have vacation from both work and school coming up and I hope after that time I feel energized enough to keep working towards the new goals that I have made for myself.


I think goals and dreams are important. Even if I don't meet them, I am proud of myself for working towards them at all.

MAY 11, 2008

Title Lyric is from "I Woke Up in a Car" by Something Corporate from their album Leaving Through the Window.


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I used to write a few journal entries a week. Now I'm down to a few journal entries a year.


School: This past semester at Rosemont was completely insane. By far it was the most hectic and overwhelming term I've had so far. The two classes I was in were interesting and I truly enjoyed them both. The workload involved, as I've mentioned, was wild. This is what I expected grad school to be like all along. Maybe I lucked out to date? Or maybe I decided to get invested in my work more than I had in the previous semesters.


The two classes that I was in this term – Medieval Literature and Digital Imaging – seemed to be extended in the sense that even after the class was over there was still work to be done for each. The term, in actuality, wrapped up for me this past Thursday, May 8th. Tomorrow starts Summer I and I'm so exhausted from spring that I'm not very invested in starting another class. The cool thing about summer terms are that the classes are "accelerated" meaning that they are only six weeks. The downside being that you meet twice a week instead of just once. I just need to get through this first class, Japanese Lit, and Summer II I am taking an online Typography class so I don't have to travel back and forth from Rosemont five hundred times a week.


The commute is one of the most exhausting parts of Rosemont.


All the negative aspects aside, I am enjoying the busy schedule. When spring bloomed this year, the smell of the warm air made me remember last year's spring and how afraid I was. I had no steady job, I wasn't in school. My life was aimless, drifting and I had no navigation system in place. All I wanted last year was what I have now. Okay, I want a little more than what I have now, but it's a wonderful start.


There is still no concrete word on London, which is driving me absolutely insane. Just fucking let me know if I am going or not. I know it's not that simple. Another girl and I are trying to pioneer a graduate study abroad program for the first time ever at a small school that has probably never done anything like this – it's going to be a rocky road of trial and error. I want this to happen so badly; I want to feel the fear, excitement, terror, amazement, uncertainty and anticipation of living in a new country, across the ocean. I want to finally fulfill my unfinished business at Drexel and make it to London.


Patience has never been a virtue of mine.


I talked to the Director of my English and Publishing program last week who promised to have answers by this Friday. We'll see…


It's important to know whether or not I'm going to London because if this is not going to happen I want to start looking for another, better paying job, which I cannot do right now because what happens if I do get another job and then I leave for four months and I come back and then there is no job. Beneficial has promised to keep my job waiting for me til I get back from my trip, which is completely wonderful. Still, the amount of money I make at Beneficial is laughable. Seriously, I look at my pay check and laugh – hysterically. It's life decisions like that – job, living situation, etc… -- that make a difference in reference to London.


We'll see.


Work: Somewhere in the grand scheme of things I started to like my job. Not love it, but it's not a bad gig.


Considering how long I've been there (less than a year), I have acquired quite a large load of responsibility and, you know me, in all of my dorky ways, I love it. I would even love to learn more. I tell people all the time that if this whole publishing thing falls through, working in the banking world would be something I would be interested in pursuing.


I've learned so much from this job, mostly dealing with people. One thing that always terrified me was dealing with the general public on a mass scale. Now doing that is as routine as, well, going to work everyday. I know for some people that is not a big deal at all, but for me that's HUGE. I feel more comfortable in social situations because of work and I am able to manage the reactions and personalities of difficult people. It really is something terrific that has happened to me thanks to working at Beneficial.


To make matters better, Jeff was sent away in mid-December to a newly opened branch in Lansdale and in the meantime they sent us another manager, Doug. ::vomit:: I can't say too much for Doug in a positive manner, but now that Jeff is back -- after five long months -- work as become much more pleasant again.


I will say work is a wonderful place when you respect and genuinely like your bosses, which I have the luck of being able to say that I do. Working at the branch is very similar, if not exactly the same, as having a second dysfunctional family. We're all kooky with completely different personalities, but these people have become an integral part of my life because I'm with them 40+ hours a week. I like almost every one at the branch (and the one I don't like we'll not write about).


The reason that I wrote that I would look for another job is purely salary related. My pay is just not enough for me to live off of if I decided I wanted to move out again. One pay check will be rent and the other would be bills and maybe some left over for food. How would I save? How would I plan for the future? Blah. I, honestly, don't understand how people do it, living on their own, bills, gas, insurance, necessities… Then again, those people probably make three times what I make.


Also, though, I have to say working at a bank really teaches you about money. What to do with it, how to save it, understanding how money works… These are lessons that I will take with me for the rest of my life.


For now, I am riding the wave. I am enjoying my time at the bank and, although I did here, I honestly try not to over analyze the situation I am in right now. I'm content with my job; I like the people I work with; and I am learning every single day. I can live with that for a while and be grateful for it.


Friends: You know me, something is always wrong with my relationship with my friends. I've never really understood why I do that – why I always have to analyze friendships from the perspective of problems and not from the perspective of no conflict. There seems to be always something that pisses me off. I can name three things right now that I'm over-the-top annoyed with. But what's the point? It doesn't get me anywhere and I usually forget about my irritations within a week.


In conclusion: same old same old.


In a month: changes. Kimmy and Lauren, after three or four years of living together down the street from me, are moving away. Lauren is staying in South Philly; Kimmy to University City.


I'm trying to get used to the idea of no Spilt Level, no gathering place, nowhere to go after a typically crazy night of drinking, no where to pass out in a blacked out drunken stupor and wake up in a pile of hungover comrades. Life will be different.


I was talking to Sean at work a few weeks ago about this and said, "It's the end of an era." He nodded his head in agreement.


I have mixed emotions about Kimmy moving to another section of the city. On one end, I'm really excited for her. It's a totally new experience and I know she is going to enjoy the change. I would. She's moving in with an awesome person (Tara!) and I know that she will be happier living closer to work. For Kimmy, this is probably the change that she was looking for and that she needed.


On the other hand, I will miss her. Yes, I'm being selfish. I know that when I moved to my apartment in the far away lands of Center City that all those declarations of "seeing me all the time!" and "visiting every day!" were empty and meaningless promises. Kimmy is moving way further away than that. Kimmy won't bother to come to South Philly every weekend to hang out with us like I did. And she shouldn't have too – just like I shouldn't have had too.


I don't want to lose her.


She's been my best hag for years. I know the last year or two we've grown apart, life, jobs, school getting in the way, but I've never not thought of her as my best friend. She is the total opposite of my personality – she's laid back, doesn't take anything seriously and finds humor in any situation. She's late all the time and doesn't care. She'll go almost anywhere on a whim -- she drags me out to punk rock shows in the middle of the week, helps me get totally smashed and then laughs the next day when I tell her how hungover I was at work. She's giddy and skinny and tells me I am too. She's my best friend.


I'm going to make every attempt to stay involved in her life. I hope that she does the same for me.


Lauren, honestly, I think is making a terrific decision for herself and I'm not afraid about things changing between us because a.) she will be the exact same distance away from me as she is now and b.) we both are slaves of da 'Fish. We have several things connecting us. Lauren is also my best friend and a constant in my life. If she ever were to not be a part of my life it just wouldn't feel right. I've said this a million times before, but, I don't know, I feel like if she is not around something is not right.


Yes, we fight often, but we also make up often.


I love my L.


The only thing about them moving is I know they are going to want me to help them move. Fuckers.


Love Life: hahahahahahahhahahahahahahahaha!!!


Generally, the title of this entry says it all: "I've never been so lost. I've never felt so much at home."


I have no idea where I am going and I feel that, in some ways I am watching my life pass me by – a guy watching a movie that is very interesting but has no control over the plot. What's going to happen next?


I look around me and see 24 year-olds with houses, marriages and kids. Meanwhile, I'm still in school and live at home.


Is that what I am supposed to be doing?


Am I letting this idea of "what I am supposed to be doing" make me think that is what I am supposed to be doing?


I've never been so lost.


I have to admit that I love living at home. No rent, no rules, I can come and go as I please. My mom and I rarely argue over stupid shit like we used to before I moved out. I don't get mad when she asks for money because I know that she doesn't expect it from me. I give her money because I want to. We talk about work, our days, what we want for dinner, who was evicted on Big Brother. We have an actual relationship that is based on mutual understanding and caring.


I'm content right now. I like where I am. It's not where I want to end up, but, at this stage, I am enjoying my life. I honestly like my job; I love going to school – my busy schedule is hectic, annoying, tiring, wonderful and unpredictable. My friends mean so much to me and rock my world. I am learning something new everyday. Life is going along and I dance along to the rhythm.


I've never felt so much at home.

Remember when I used to write blog entries every weekend? Yeah, me too...

What was remarkable about New Year's this year was, well, it was not remarkable. Don't get me wrong -- it was still New Year's: way to much alcohol, too many people in the house, MaMa Strunk flipped out and beat up underage children, but there was no real drama to report. A sign we are maturing? Maybe. I refuse to believe it!

Again, don't misunderstand me. It was ridiculous amounts fun. I don't think New Year's could ever NOT be fun. There just weren't any stand out stories from the actual party at my house. It was wild, debacherious entertainment. It was New Year's!

Interestingly, the memorable part came after my party. Once MaMa Strunk had started to mow down my sister's idiot friends, those of us over 21 left and went to Spilt Level. If I remember correctly it was me, Lauren, Kimmy, Sean, Sean's roommate Ben, my sister's retarded friend, Albert! at the Disco (no, seriously, this is what he calls himself), and some other people. I can't remember how it all happened, but, like I do when I'm drunk, I kept knocking Disco's hat off his head. So, apparently, he took it to be this big offense and all of a sudden he grabbed my arm and I was being swung around like a tilt-a-whirl and I was flung into, of all things, Kimmy's closet! Talk about irony...

There actually is some history with me and Douchebag at the Rave (exclamation point!) that has to do with running around my house at 4 a.m. screaming on a Tuesday night when I had to get up for work the next day at 6 in the morning, but I digress...

I don't remember much about what happened after that. From what I understand via Sean that there was almost a fight (I think? I was pretty drunk. Can't remember.) and then Disco left. Honestly, the first thing I remember after my spinning incident was waking up in Kimmy's bed the next morning. Okay, that's not totally accurate, I remember waking up at 2 a.m. with Tommy McKnight and Kimmy whacking me with pillows trying to wake me up, but that did not work.

New Year's Day was the same as New Year's Eve -- understated.

Well, almost. As in normal, we all woke up in Spilt Level trying to put ourselves back together and once we managed to do that, we stumbled to WaWa, bought coffee in plenty and then returned back to our respective housing to get cleaned up and changed.

We met back up and made our way to Lauren's Grandmom's house, where her Aunt introduced us to a nifty shot called an Irish (Italian?) Flag. You take a swig of lime juice, then good tequila, then Bloody Mary mix. Spicy! It was top shelf tequila too. I've never had really good tequila before (thanks, Lauren's Aunt!) and there really is quite a difference between Jose Curveo and $60 a bottle tequila. We also ate really yummy food there. Mostly, I think we were giving our bodies time to recover from the night before we started to drink all over again.

Once we had our fill of food and drink, we wandered back to my house where we nested for an hour or two. At some point Lauren's cousin (well, sorta -- he is the immy's cousin, which kinda makes him her cousin by marriage), Jarek, showed up. I had met him before, but never had any real contact with him, but on New Year's it's pretty common for me to run into people I haven't seen in weeks/months/years, especially vague acquaintances. Over time more and more people showed up and we took turns running from the corner to watch the parade back to my house to warm up and socialize in a comfy environment.

Earlier in the night, somewhere in between going to Lauren's Grandmom's and coming back to my house I decided to take my last pill of --fill in the blank-- (I don't know if it is okay for me to write about what I took or if I should not put it in here so I am going to go with the safe route and not write what it was that I tried) that Sharon had given me for my last birthday. I had two left -- Philly Danielle and myself decided to take two together last fall -- and shared the other one with Lauren. When I took --fill in the blank-- in the fall it was a lot like taking E, but much, much milder. I guess you could call it low level E if you wanted. I had drank so much on New Year's Eve that I thought I would do something different for New Year's Day.

Jarek and I wound up in my kitchen at one point, alone, and it was kind of awkward because we really don't know each other, but I was high and feeling "expanded" so I just chatted away happily and he seemed to be on the same vibe. It was an interesting conversation. I remember that I told him what I took and he asked how I was feeling. I said, "I just want to sit with somebody and talk about different ideas." He said, "Well, I can do that!" I was quite enamored with him from then on.

Later on, in my bedroom, with the rest of the gang, he played the piano and we had a discussion about atonal music and Buddhism. Not only was he sweet, but he was smart. Go figure.

Let me make one thing perfectly clear here: I was not "after" him, I wasn't trying to "get" him, I merely was crushing on him because he was nice to me. This is important because of what will happen later on. As I told Philly Danielle later in the night I was enjoying liking somebody and totally understanding that nothing would ever happen. Lately, I've been learning to appreciate other people's beauty, both inner and outer, without going into a depression because I'll never know it the way I want to. And I think this learning really began on New Year's. An interesting lesson to bring into the new year!

Throughout the night the group of us traveled all over, my house, 2nd Street, other people's parties, but eventually Lauren rounded us up to head to Avalon, a New Year's club where her uncle is a member.

On the way to Avalon, Jarek's friend (Randy? Ryan? something with an R. We'll call him R-Friend) mockingly proposed to my sister. I forget how it happened, but my sister was drunk and flirting with both of them and I guess R-Friend moved in for the kill first. Anyways, the proposal was cute and funny and adorable. Half serious, half joking, I cried, "Nobody would ever propose to me! I am going to be alone forever! What the fuck?!" Again, I was being half serious/half joking. God knows how it ACTUALLY spilled out of my mouth, but I think it was a tone of self-depreciation -- you know, Kathy Griffin-like. So, out of nowhere, Jarek says, "I'll propose to you!"

I nearly died.

I can't explain it, but it was creeping me out that he was so nice to me. You have to understand, most guys make me feel weird, awkward, uncomfortable, unwanted and here is Jarek, who I hung out with throughout the night and never once felt completely guy-oslated from him, and now he is offering to propose to him. Again, understand, I wasn't gunning for him or trying to get with him at all. I was probably flirting, or at least attempting to flirt, but I wasn't trying to take it anywhere. And he was being so nice. It was just bizarre because guys are not nice to me.

I had a conversation with Kimmy a few days after New Year's about all of this and she was confused and asked, "All of our guy friends are nice to you. I don't get what you are talking about?" She's not wrong. Our guy friends are nice to me and they're civil and very cool. There are even a few who I feel completely comfortable in front of. But I wouldn't expect her to "get it." I love her, and all of my hags (especially Katie -- when I say I think a guy is cute she goes over, grabs his ass, and screams, "ARE YOU GAY CAUSE MY GAY FRIEND LIKES YOU!" and points at a dumbfounded and mortified me) but none of them understand what it is to be gay. The Jarek event was similar to the Jeff experience I had a few New Year's ago, but not nearly as physical. It wasn't that my other guy friends are assholes, cause none of them are, it was that the way Jarek approached me was completely different.

Once he said he would propose, I didn't let Jarek forget it! Once we arrived at Avalon, he got down on one knee (again, I completely died...), and, by my suggestion, used the tab of a Pabst can as my engagement ring. He said he wanted to whisk me away somewhere -- R-Friend screamed out, "San Francisco!" -- so Jarek went with San Francisco and we could buy a mansion overlooking the bay for the rest our lives. Who wouldn't love that speech?! Come on!

As dorky as it is, I woke up the next day and found the beer tab in my jeans pocket. Before I went home from Avalon I told Lee Ann what happened and she said that if I wanted to always remember that moment I should slide the tab around my necklace chain. So I did that on the 2nd and it made total sense because I already have a pendent with the Tori Amos lyrics, "...the fear in the boy, the fire in the man..." and I think those lyrics, combined with the beer tab, sort of make the situation a complete circle for me. Personally, it was a nice wake up call -- hey! there are smart, attractive boys out there who aren't complete assholes. Who knew?! I don't know what Jarek's story is and, quite honestly, I'm glad of that. Thank God this isn't an Adam thing where I'm going to pine away for the next three years constantly wondering what could have been if only... It's not Jarek himself that I will take away from the experience, it was what he taught me about men and about me.

That was sort of the big story for me this past New Year's. There was also my sister and I getting into a fist fight at the end of the night, after Avalon, but, seriously, that was such a delicious release of pent up aggression, anger and annoyance that I am thrilled it happened. We haven't talked since New Year's. I don't know. I'm not really that broken up over it. I'm genuinely sorry it came to physical violence because that's totally not what I'm about. It was bound to happen sooner or later, though. In fact, we haven't crossed paths since then. I'm not complaining... I'm not going to write about how the fight started because it would probably be another 14 pages, but suffice to say it mostly had to do with her ignorant, loser friends. Imagine that.

The 2nd of January was quite wonderful as well. While mostly everyone went back to work, Lauren and I were able to take off. We went to the movies and had the most delicious dinner at Cafe Valentino. It was a great way to end the two day party that is always New Year's and I'll always remember the sane, quiet day that I had to recover before returning to the real world in 2008 with my L.

Sadly, there isn't much else to report since the beginning of the year. Kimmy's birthday was quite interesting this year, but don't want to hash up any old issues. Okay, I'll write this: I was thrown into a car by Timmy! It's sort of complicated. I don't want to get myself or anybody else into trouble. I just wanted to document that I seem to be having a violent year so far. I'm waiting for a crazy Beneficial customer to body slam me because the coin counter did not correctly count his/her (you should see some of our beastly woman depositors -- WWE anyone?!) change.

Before I returned to school, I came home from work and meditated and worked out about four nights a week. Returning to school has put a stop to that. One thing I'm trying to learn how to do is manage my time, which I have to come to find out I'm not very good at doing. I want to spend more time working on MYSELF -- meditating, going to the gym (or if not the gym, using the rowing machine), reading, writing (like now!). I work 40 hours a week and Wednesdays and Thursdays I have class so those days I don't get home till around 11. I tried getting up an hour earlier in the morning to go to the gym but that was a complete joke. This week I seem to have come to some kind of time management schedule thing (as in proof by this blog entry), but I sort of blew off working on school stuff this week. Argh! If anyone has suggestions I'm only more than happy to listen.

Wynia and I went to a Howie Day concert this past Tuesday that was very, very enjoyable. It was kind of weird because it was at the Tin Angel, which I think holds a maximum of like 250 people. It was surreal seeing Howie perform in such an intimate environment. It was like he was playing in my living room. Very cool stuff. He played "Bunnies" so he could have farted the rest of show and I would have been perfectly fine. He also played "Buzzin'," another HUGE favorite of mine.

Okay, I am rambling now. There are a few other things I wanted to write, but I kind of just wanted to get New Year's out of the way. Hopefully, I'll catch up on the smaller stuff soon, but knowing me it will be another three months before I write anything else.