"At the moment of the wakening to love, an object, apparently without, 'passes [in the words of Joyce] into the soul forever.…And the soul leaps at the call. To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life!' "
Joseph Campbell, The Masks of God, Volume IV: Creative Mythology


Saturday morning, dark and early. Savoring strong coffee in the wee hours, contemplating life. 

I am a little sad. Plans kept being canceled with a handsome young devil. I felt something was afoot, but quelled my fears reassuring myself that I don't know whats really happening. I am after all engaging with a man who has one quarter of a centuries worth of life experience, perhaps honoring commitments isn't really a big thing, or maybe snow, school, work really do have a way of thwarting.

So I got home after a meeting and dinner with a friend, curious as to why I had no word from J. We were to have dinner, but a short text indicated he had to work through dinner break. I guess I had hoped for some sort of followup, an explanation, an attempt to reschedule, something. Of course my ego plays into this equation wholeheartedly, as it is wont to do. Crickets. SO I sent a message saying I hope his night got better, and the response was cryptic- rat race and mouse traps. I asked if there was a chance to see him, and his response was "not in the near future unfortunately." Guilt, shame, fear, family, obligations, parents paying for 2nd college, religion. Bam. The injured part of me lashed out saying "that  I am sure I won't be the only man at the weekend  house. I hope they are gentle with you." I am definitely not evolving in a manner that I'd like, as I can quickly revert to some vicious faggot with little provocation, when my feelings get hurt. 

I laid low most of the week, savoring the attentions I had been receiving. I enjoyed the rush of chemicals, I enjoyed the newness. J is an interesting mix of wholesomeness with a twist of kink and fetishism. His penchant for underwear (and man does he wear them well), and his familiarity with pornography have, I think, warped his thinking in regards to human sexuality. I wonder if most of his generation will be trying to rectify reality with that which has been created for our viewing pleasure.

So this beautiful man will wander off to complete a degree, struggling to hide and change what he is. Many in this situation have gone before him, many have had the same tale. I wonder if it will be his as well? He will become more involved in his church. He will meet a nice girl. They will be married. He will meander into trysts with men. They will have children. His parents and family will be happy. He will unhappy. His job will take him out of town. He will play. He will become sullen and detached at home. He will become more involved with his church. And a negative feedback loop is created and reinforced. 

And so I say thank you to the universe. A brief encounter with a blue eyed beauty has enriched my life. It makes me look internally and see that while progress has been made, I still have a ways to go.

Waking early, as normal, to a light dusting of snow. Sipping coffee and watching as night gradually turns to morning.

Plans last night were interrupted by falling snow. I waited around in town, only to hear that it was getting bad out his way. A few minutes later it started at my location. I headed home to blue skies and sunshine. The universe has other plans. We chatted via text until 11 or so. Nice, some playful, some serious, some sexual. We had plans to meet this morning before he went to work- his first stop morphed into much more and now we're slated for dinner. 

One my way home last night I chatted with M. That didn't go so well. We each experienced the same situation differently. It is not the first time. I am apparently in the wrong. That too is not the first time. An outburst directed at a newbie was inappropriate in my opinion. I am allowed to have an opinion. It was not kind, was not necessary, and was not in fact truthful. Couple the outburst to the negative talk about the same person over dinner a few nights earlier, and I see things a little differently. 

I've been pretty low key- coming back home to conserve resources, but also coming home because I was disappointed. I am also filled with so many doubts and find myself wondering WTF?

I am 47. I am being chased by someone 25. 25 and deeply devoted to faith and family. 25 and a hostage- emotionally, and financially to a belief system that differ radically from his own life. 25 and he has been convinced that being gay is a choice and that if his faith is strong enough, he too can be straight. This has all the trappings of heartbreak. Maybe a good screenplay. I am attracted to him- I enjoy him, his company. I would enjoy bearing witness to his journey. I would like to join him. 

So, am I delusional? Am I riding that train, high on dopamine, oxytocin, and a myriad of other chemicals rushing through my body, flooding my brain? Does my heart race thinking of him, yes. I notice too that I respond with disappointment when plans don't jive. Is disappointment normal? My ability to bounce back from that is not as quick as I would like, and I really don't like that feeling. 

So I am seeing a possible pattern here. I like being with someone. I like being flooded with the chemicals involved with meeting someone, cuddling, kissing, making out, making plans. I enjoy the sense of joy and well being that accompany such things. 

Like my experience with MPS. Being mostly flooded with joy, well being, desire, connection. Reinforced by kissing, making out, making love. Getting drunk, sometimes arguing, having threats of leaving, being bombarded with negative emotions, having the fear of him leaving reactivated regularly. That sucked. Making up erased all of that. Holding him, kissing him, making love. Cycle that out over two years, and voila it ended. Suddenly,violently.  The negative emotions trigger separation anxiety, fear of losing something, and several other not so logical scenarios. My brain can ride the high of "we're having dinner" only to plan a suicide car crash when those plans change within a few minutes. So is it being flooded and then the sudden removal of the chemicals causing the switch? Is this somehow exacerbated by chantix and not smoking for 10 days or so? 

Mindfulness helps. Meditation helps. Contemplating time with J seems to also help- and I experience this very odd and wonderful sensation when I do. Associating the joyful with him though also seems to reinforce the negative side when things happen differently than I want, hope or plan.

SO here I am- 47 and incapable of interacting intimately with other humans. Wanting it so badly, and being completely ineffective in the execution. I am a stunted man :-)

And so it goes... maybe some more coffee will help....

Waking to a chilly morning the remnants of dreams lingering. I like this man- I am enjoying that we are talking and not rushing to the bedroom, the bushes, the backseat, although such thoughts do exist. Making out with J was definitely something I enjoyed and would like to do again. We chatted/texted for a few hours before he went to work. I am meeting him for dinner at the end of his shift. I can not wait to see him.

Drawing the Runes this morning to get some insight - I asked about how I can better be of service to God and man- I drew The Self. Interesting read, reminding me to be aware, not to fall into highs or lows. Timely.
I next asked about J and drew The Harvest- reminding me to not push the river, to allow things to grow on their own, organically. Again, a perfect reading, great reminders. Next I inquired in regards to the legal issues at hand- I drew The Unknowable- the blank rune-the end, the beginning- rising like the Phoenix, "empty handed leap into the void" shifting and evolving. That one spoke volumes, and continues to, in fact. In contemplating my new job and how to proceed, I drew Protection- Control of the emotions, times of transitions, new opportunities and challenges right action and correct conduct- 

Taken collectively this spread of Runes and the readings were centering, reminding me what I am doing and why. 

I'm sitting at my desk watching as the snow falls- the air is cool and the snow is not sticking- it seems to be melting immediately. There is something I find to be quite peaceful about falling snow. 

​Now into the day...

​

​

Feb 23 will be a day I long remember. 

It began with a flirtatious conversation with a nice young man whom I had met for coffee the day before. A sweet young man, with an amazing gaze and a turbulent storm brewing internally. He had the great gift of being able to be present- to be fully there over coffee as we met, talked and discussed life. Those eyes...

He lives in Mars Hill. His family is involved in realestate and construction. He has a great interest in theater. He lives on the same street as a friend of mine did until recently; a nice street overlooking the college. He is conflicted. He is deeply religious, and VERY sexual. An exhibitionist. 

Our morning correspondence has been ongoing. It began a few months ago- as his slim self appeared as a thumbnail. His penchant for Andrew Christian underwear and his keen ability to wear them well in his profile pictures got him routinely booted for violations to the TOS. I found myself smiling a lot while interacting. My ego enjoyed the attention of this young buck, clad in the newest undies. The fuzzy belly and smile cinched the deal.

So we chatted on this Tuesday morning, each indicating we had enjoyed our initial meeting. He invited me to meet him in Mars Hill, that he had somewhere he wanted to show me. It being Madison County, I did have thoughts of being shot. We met at a car park there and grabbed a biscuit at Bojangles. He then steered us into the hills.

He took me to his families "weekend home" - a beautiful home situated on 150 acres on top of a mountain. Wow. His dad built the place. Picturesque to say the least. The mile long drive behind the chained entrance was stunning. The house is about 40 years old, but was built well. Great hardware. Solid. Moss and lichens covered most of the trees and ground. We were in the clouds, on several levels. I could not have scripted a more ideal or romantic location. 

He is wearing a florescent colored jockstrap that I see when his shirt raises. I caress his iliac crest, he is driving me crazy. Caressing his crest was driving him crazy. I restrained myself, which was not an easy task. It felt like I was battling the minotaur. 

We kissed and made out. I felt uneasy. Amazing man, yes! Lovely place, yes. His parents place, yes. Awkward, yes. And then theres the dreaded conversation and the realization that this handsome man entered the world after I was diagnosed. Strange perhaps, but I kept the conversation downstairs, when he asked and indicated we should go upstairs. The battle between my brain and body raged hard. No pun intended. I quivered. I shook. I desire this man so much- and yet, when push comes to shove, I falter. I develop mores and am concerned about disrespecting him and his family by being there.

The beauty of not falling into bed with him was learning more about him. He attended Liberty University. Theater is a major interest. Something happened in the theater experience though that soured it as a career choice. He is a vibrant man. Family is very important to him. Being openly gay is not an option for him. I am smiling thinking about him. 

So I left without doing more than making out. He has occupied many of my thoughts since we parted ways. I would like more, but that is really not surprising- I like more of things that make me feel good. 

So as I was driving homeward, processing all that had happened and been said, I get a voicemail from my lawyer. The DA has agreed to proceed. I am ecstatic ! The sins of long ago have been following me, haunting me and terrorizing me for nearly a decade. The ball is rolling. 

Later in the day I got the email confirming my new position and the start date of 3/7. 

Thank you universe. 

When I shared the news with my new friend, he said I had a red letter day. Yes sir, I have indeed had a red letter day.

So I gathered with my peeps, celebrated a friend over ice cream and came home to ponder the day. The man was a highlight. The legal stuff is awesome and the job just makes it perfect. The trifecta. 

I am overwhelmed. I like the chemicals produced by making out with J. I really like them. I am an addict. I want more and if I sense it changing, I freak out, just like an addict. He has removed his "social media" presence- the profiles disappeared last night. Internally I freaked out, thinking of the late afternoon texts that said if he disappeared it wasn't me, that his parents had found out. I texted this morning, knowing he had an interview. He texted back and then again after the interview. Not sure how to proceed. Being aware of me and the way I feel when we interact is paramount.  

Waking to a brisk 12 degrees outside, knowing that I had made plans to meet a friend downtown for coffee at 8. 

The stillness of the Hill in the wee hours is nice- it allows my brain to wake up and make contact with the divine in its own way. Coffee helps.

The drive was peaceful. Starbucks wasn't busy at 8am and for that I am thankful. We met and chatted for an hour, catching up on our weeks, checking in as we do. This ritual is a lifesaver. I miss it when my schedule interferes. We departed and regathered with a few others. I heard exactly what I needed to hear. Bagels afterwards alone allowed me to process. Another friend joined me. I got to see what gossiping looks like in a grown woman. It didn't fully hit me until later, but there are such unfortunates. There are those who can stuff a spiritual void with drama. Ain't nothing pretty about a 50 years old lesbian drama king. 

So I sit at home now in front of the fire. I smile. I sip my coffee and watch the cats soak up the radiant heat. Lessons learned. Teacher abound at every turn.

MPS posted an article about a caregiver during the early AIDS crisis that made me cry. I remember such beautiful people, and I am thankful that they existed. The article should be required reading for every human. 

I venture outside and watch  and wonder as the sky is banded- the sky reminds me of photographs of Jupiter. Striations and swirls. It is beautiful. Snow is coming. Firewood has been split and hauled. A pizza is in the oven. Life is pretty damned good, actually.
​

Leaps of faith. Those words always bring the Fools card of the tarot to mind. I have made a life of avoiding them, as I tend to prefer stability and certainty over uncertainty and the possibility of chaos.

So here I am at age 47. Two years and eleven months into a job with the state of North Carolina. I am leaving. While my job search has been greatly hindered by my record of assault (200+ applications, 100+ resumes sent out,  in the past five years, and only four interviews- three of which landed me a job)

I have to leave. I find the job to be physically, spiritually and emotionally draining. It had been fun, but now was not. A job that began as a dishwasher and quickly morphed into managing the employee cafeteria of a state medical facility.  I enjoyed my work- I was able to interact with residents, staff and the myriad of locals who patronized us for lunch each day. A small place, but we managed about 150 covers. When I started I was preparing about 8 cold items a day and running the cash register. I enjoyed it. I worked Monday through Friday and had weekends and holidays off. I could see me hanging out for a long haul.

Fast forward to the summer of 2015. My director is being a bear. At every turn I am met with a stern and unhappy woman. Her son is in the midst of legal issues- felonies are involved as is alcohol. Her mood can be gauged by the continuances of her sons court dates. It becomes a joke, and the staff knows when the dates are and make plans to stay out of her way. (Thanks, Internet!) She redesigned my workday to longer be cashier, but to rather serve lunch (which I detested, as do all of my coworkers). This is seen as a spiteful move by many, I even came to see it this way in time.

While my director has never been known to be a happy, cheerful, build your staff up kind of boss, things were tolerable. That is, until she started in on me in July. It was a constant borage of negative remarks. Always something wrong- be it the way I cooked her eggs for her sandwich every morning (which had been fine for the first year and a half...), to the strength of the coffee, or the freshness of the fruit I was cutting for lunch. Every day I came to loathe seeing her, as I knew it was going to be another occasion of something lacking, something not right. I went to a peer to seek guidance, and was told again and again, "thats just the way she is..." An unhappy thirty year veteran of the state. 

This went on from April through July. I bit my tongue, tried to make the adjustments required and realize that she was stressed. I began taking Chantix again in July to continue my annual pilgrimage to NonSmokerVille.  I came to work on a mid July day as normal. Things were progressing, I was prepping for my day. She arrived and began complaining because the coffee urn was empty. I made coffee. A little while later she commented negatively about some salads I had made. A little later she pointed out in a hateful way some cleaning deficiency. In less than 1.5 hours she had not said anything nice. I said to her, I wish you could say something nice, half jokingly. I tried to bring some levity. She huffed off. A while later we got really busy. I sold out of the fruit I had bowled up and that somehow pissed her off. She started bowling up some more, as I was bowling up something else that had sold well. She pulled a piece of cantaloup out of the pan, held it up and yelled at me across the kitchen that I was not to mix old and new fruit. The entire pan of fruit she was pulling from had been cut fresh that morning. I said I hadn't mixed old and new. She slammed it down, making it very apparent that she didn't agree. She said, yes you did, again holding a piece of ripe cantaloup up as her evidence. I replied that I had cut it all that morning. I really didn't like the confrontational manner or the accusation that I was somehow lying. Her huff continued and I said that I wish that she could say something nice. 

She stormed off, leaving the pan of fruit. The day continued. Later in the afternoon, after lunch, I was called into a meeting with her and my immediate supervisor. I was told I was lucky she wasn't calling Human Resources and filing insubordination. I said that I was not being insubordinate, but that I did ask if she could say something nice, as she had not in the 1.5 years of me working in the cafeteria ever said anything nice- she always had a complaint, was always finding a deficiency. My director told me that if I wanted a boss that said something nice, I needed to find another job. She let me know that I was not making the recipes she asked me to (which I had been making weekly) She then stormed out of the meeting and said she was leaving us to discuss being nice.

​I apologized to her the next day, as I saw that my manner was not professional or becoming. She indicated she accepted. Things remained strained for weeks. I called Human Resources as something really felt wrong. They advised that I document everything I made, every interaction. So I did. About four weeks in to the documenting, I took a three day weekend and upon my return was informed that in less than two weeks I would be transferred back to dishwasher, that I made too much money and the budget couldn't afford my wage. I was stunned. Many of us (myself and coworkers) had noticed her speaking and being very friendly with the guy who used to run the cafeteria. I had even gone to my boss while documenting and asked directly what was going on, was he coming back. I was told no. So, I called her boss who was leaving for a three week vacation in Europe and asked about my transfer "due to financial" reasons. She indicated she knew nothing of these "financial concerns." I called Human Resources, they said to stick with the documentation. The next morning, I was again called into my directors office with my supervisor. She tells me that she knows that I went to her boss and to HR, and that in addition to the financial reasons she was not happy with my performance and was still planning on my transfer. 

So the transfer progressed. I worked my ass off. She and I haven't spoken since September, even though our paths cross every day. It is very uncomfortable. I began looking elsewhere in October. I interviewed for Omni in November (finally got my "no thanks " email today (Feb 12, 2016). I applied to every job posting I thought I could do- some of them repeatedly. My record haunts me.

I finally garnered an interview with Mission- not in food service as I would have assumed and where I applied often, but in behavioral health. The process is ongoing. I took the interview and prayer afterwards to come to the place that it was time to leave the state job. I resigned. This past Tuesday was my last shift.

I leapt off the cliff. I will now either grow wings and soar, or I will find a net. I know I won't die :-) 


​...to be continued

For eight plus years I have been wandering through the world wondering how a certain Magical Blue Eyed Being was doing. Our paths diverged in September of 2007, the night of my last drink or drug. I look for him periodically. Scan to see what might be up, how he is doing, etc. My friends grew weary of this years ago- and our mutual friends made it very clear it was cool to ask. I am thankful.

So this past week I noticed his name in my feed, that he had commented on a mutual friends post. He had blocked me years ago, sometime after our MySpace war of posting music at each other or some such heartbroken child-play. While I knew we had many mutual friends, I could never spy on him as he just wasn't there, I was blocked. I clicked on his name, and voila, there he was. I saw an image of him spraying his bearded neck with Gentlemen cologne- it was his favorite- I got him a bottle our last Christmas together. I smiled. 

He remains an inspiration. He remains holding a piece of my heart, all these years later. I guess it is true that you never really stop loving someone, it just changes in time. I don't pine for him anymore, but I do hope he is well, and include him in my clumsy prayers. We had fun. We explored the world. We opened a bar. We laughed. We cried. He helped me honor Hayes. 

And while our last evening together is somewhat of a blur, the two years before that mostly bring joy to mind. It is good to see his photos. He looks like much has happened in eight years. I can relate to that.

So, I sip my coffee and smile. I clumsily sent him a message and then accidentally sent another message intended for someone else and subsequently deleted the entire conversation, hoping he had not seen either. I think it might be best to just let it be- that has worked well for these eight years. If he has any desire to contact me, he knows how. The door is open, the light is on :-)

​Thank you MPS. You've allowed a certain level of peace that I hadn't realized I wanted. Funny how silly things can mean something after all. Know that infinity was real.