When I Need A Pick Me Up, by my friend Ryan King

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Nevermore As Close As I Was Yesterday

...to "coming out" to my geek community. Yesterday (right?) when California upheld the same-sex marriage ban, there were SO many tweets from my geek friends and professionals that were de-crying and insulting California for their decision.

I just couldn't understand why they were SO moved. Those are people who brag about how beautiful their wives are and are the fathers of many sons and daughters. And so I Tweeted it out there. A little miffed, in fact. I suggested that if those guys were so offended by Prop 8, then they should protest in earnest. I suggested a French-Kiss in. They should snog a same-sex buddy in solidarity for the plight of the homosexuals of California. Otherwise, I just wanted them to shuttheEFFup. (Just wanted them to. I didn't say tweet it.) Because, dude WHY are YOU bitching? Mr hairy-chested, bounce-my-son-on-my-knee, screw-my-wife All-American Boy. How happy it must be for you to have no sexual confusion. How nice that when you were attracted sexually, you were able to go right in and tap that ass with no social ramifications. You got to have all the sex. Then you got to marry her. Then you got to make babies. During all this blissful coitus, did you ever ONCE look around you and think, "Hey? Gay people don't get to enjoy what I'm enjoying right now, in full support of their society."

But now you want to litter my Twitterscape with your bitching? You're a got-damn day late and a mutha-effing dollar short there, Biff. Go back to your 401K, your McMansion cul-de-sac, your 2.5 children and your pilates-addicted Housewife of Orange County and cut me an Effing Break. Where the hell was all your outrage when I was in highschool and crushing on the football captain but thinking, this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong.

Now I'm 40-almost-effing-FIVE, never dipped a wick IN MY LIFE, and NOW you want to be all "civil-rights-is-GOOD sez Johnny ACTIVIST"?! Sit yo normal ass the hell down somewhere.


I needed that.

So anyway, I so very extremely nearly twittered yesterday that "reasons like Prop 8 are why I'm not gay." Which is a joke, right, because either I'm supposed to be gay or not. But check this out--one of my closer friends over Twitter, someone I've met a few times and we've broken bread over a diner table, responded to my "French-A-Buddy" said he WOULD do it if it made a difference. To which I was like--WHAT? And then he Tweeted--PUBLICALLY TWEETED--that he was bisexual, but now was in a committed marriage to a woman. To which part I already knew. Not only married, but they made two children together.

But he said he was bisexual! Told everyone who followed him that, yes I would french-kiss a man to support the Gays of California, and oh "bi" the way I used to do it just for fun too!

See, that's the kind of living I wish I could have done. Go ahead and have my fun with some hunky bastard, get it the hell over with, and then get with a woman who would sing "I don't care 'bout those other girls (and guys), just be good to me."

In summary though, I can't lie. It's my own fault. I can't blame the straight people who are pissed off at California for my own choices and my own isolation and fears. Hundreds of thousands of people grew up in the same America I did, and sprinted out of their closets and got busy and partnered up and enjoyed love and adopted kids and combined incomes and bought houses. I could have been one of them. Or I could have been like my bisexual buddy (who is, by the way, pretty sexy too--but again, married now and a father of two).

I'm living a life based on my choices, no one elses'. Yes, it would have been nice to have had a society around me to have helped me make better ones, but too late now. Spilt milk. And maybe all the angry straight people now will make it better for the kids of the next generation when they're looking for a societally acceptable place to dip their wicks.

Add to that, as one of the straight outraged guys dialogued with me, many straight people know and love homosexual folks, and are legitimately upset for the sake of their brothers, their uncles, their cousins, the best man at their wedding, their college roommate who they still keep in touch with, etc. People have a right to feel anyway they want to feel about anything they want to feel about.

I was just taking out my frustrations and jealousy on them.

And that's why I blog.

I feel better now.

And really, California? WTF?

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Nothing Like Looking Back At The Roadmarks

For instance, this post originally done in Sept 7th, 2005 tells of a very downtrodden me, fighting and struggling and hurting like hell. It contains all the hopes I had for my future and all the shortcomings I had that made me feel like I'd never be happy.

I can say that I have made some of those goals come true. I have recovered as I struggled to do. I haven't suffered a Insufficient funds penalty from my bank in over a year. Perhaps two years. And I had totally forgotten that I used to get my phone shut off for non-payment!

I wonder what birthday present I'm getting myself this year when I turn the big 45?

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

No One Is Alone

No one here to guide you.
Now you're on your own.

Only me beside you.
Still you're not alone.

No one is alone.


No one is alone.

Sometimes people leave you,
Halfway through the wood.

Others may deceive you
You decide what's good.

You decide alone.
But no one is alone.

People make mistakes

Fathers ... mothers ...

People make mistakes ...

... holding to their own.

Thinking they're alone...

Honor their mistakes
Everybody makes
One another's
terrible mistakes.

Witches can be right.
Giants can be good.
You decide what's right.
You decide what's good.

Just remember--

Someone is on your side
Someone else is not.
While you're seeing your side,
Maybe you forgot?
They are not alone.

No one is alone.

Hard to see the light now,
Just don't let it go
Things will turn out right, now.
We can make it so...

Someone is on your side.

No one is


I saw Bernadette Peters today on my way to my parked car, after going into midtown to get my comicbooks. She was behind her sunglasses (they must make them especially to hide behind, and so, cost a fortune) but she was talking on her phone as they all seem to do and only her speaking voice made me look up. She was fascinating enough to look at, but only in a split second did I realize who she was ... and then she was gone.

So I Tweeted about seeing her, and I gushed a little over her, and then I went to Amazon.com and downloaded her Sondheim, Etc. Live at Carnegie Hall.

And I said "when I want a great effing cry" I would then listen to it. But who buys a song and doesn't listen to it straightway?

So for the last half hour I've been listening to it over and over, letting a tear or two trickle down. Then I started hearing the actual words, and I realized I had to come here and type them out. And then while doing so, had a GREAT EFFING CRY.

These lyrics made me think of so many people, bloggers and face-to-face people who have been around, and now are not. Left me when I was only halfway through the wood. My heroes who are scattered around the country. And my parents.

I stopped taking my meds Friday morning. I tell you this because when I'm not on the meds, it's easier for me to cry. I ran out of them and the doctor's secretary said I had to come in and see him again before he would renew my refills. And I thought--"You know what? No."

And I think of Ned and the solidarity I had with him when we took meds, and how now here I am, leaving him halfway through the woods. It's not airtight, but it seems to fit peripherally. But Ned will take his meds whether I do or not, if he believes they have a good effect. And I think for him they do.

And I think the meds have/had a good effect on me. I think I may have achieved a pretty busy part time theripst's gig because I wasn't as scared of my potential clients as I used to be when I was a 'travelling therapist/counseling supervisor,' and left that job conveniently when I let my car get impounded, and subsequently unable to survive off Starbucks money, got my ass evicted from NYC.

I have had the benefits from the meds. Now I am hoping that I'm somehow better. That I can use reason to override my anxiety, the way I urge and encourage my clients who don't want medication. My fears were neurotic, not based on truth. I have more evidence and reinforcing beliefs to support that now. And experience to know that I Am Good Enough. I will make that work for me when I need it. I will let Dr. Feelgood prescribe for other patients and blackmail THEM into seeing him again when their meds are running out. If I really, really REALLY need those meds again, I will go straight to a psychiatrist, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

Grizzbabe, Ned, and like the letter 'Y'--sometimes Scott, you are the blogfriends who have stuck with me. (Eliel, you are my FRIENDfriend, so don't hate on my moment here.) I love you. I am not alone.

As a parting detail, here are other songs that make me cry;

"The Rainbow Connection" from The Muppet Movie
"Pure Imagination" from Willy Wonka.

Okay. And maybe now that I'm off my meds I'll post more.

And if I do, and you guys see me going back to bad--or getting worse--please tell me. Please don't let me get kicked out of New York again. There's no George I'm going back to.

I know you'll have my back, though. Because I'm not alone.

No one is alone.

PS, and you, Steven. I forgot, so silent you are. But speaking up in times of great need. Thank you too.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Happiness Wins Again

...or at least I hope so. I can't find Fringes and Q's blog anymore. They're married and having a baby (or maybe had it by now) and they've moved on. I missed the "Goodbye."

I didn't know blogs had a shelf life. But I guess when their purposes are over, letting them go is a sign of growth, health, happiness achieved. At least, that's what I choose to believe.

So, live long and prosper, Fringes and Q, wherever you are.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Action Plan #2

The NutriSystem is ordered again. This time I custom ordered each snack & meal. 100% of what I want as opposed to 90% For instance, I still have nasty-ass Soy Nacho Chips that I haven't eaten, and a Thick Crust Pizza that I can't be arsed to prepare. Just give me stuff to pop the lid and throw into the microwave.

See, ALL my clothes are tight. ALL. I'm seriously and truly PORKING out over here and it's ridiculous. It's making me feel lousy about myself and self-conscious as all hell. So that's got to stop. Come August, I'm jogging in Central Park without a t-shirt. No questions, no excuses--because this is just bullshi#. I'm about to be 45 damn years old. I don't have time to waste with this.

So there.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Mom's Day '09

Okay, so nothing maudlin today. It was too beautiful out there today to go all goth. I got to work bright and early (for me) and saw lots of people in the day job who my boss wanted me to see. Then I got back into NYC while the sun was bright in the sky. I trolled around Riverside Drive on the Upper Westside and Broadway instead of going right home and ate sushi overlooking the Jersey Palisades.

(By the way, I took this picture. That's not MY crazy ass sitting there on the edge of the world, ready for a psycho to push me off into oblivion. It's actually about a 12 foot drop onto some thin trees. Bones might break, but the fool would live.)

I think about The Past Girl probably every day, and probably every day I think about Match Girl and The Last Girlfriend. Every day I probably think about them all. Given a 16-hour awake period, I'm sure that I do.

But still, it was quite a surprise to get a text message from The Past Girl today, wishing me and my mother a Happy Mother's Day. I knew her mother was deceased and I thought of how beautiful that was to send me out a text when her own heart must have been a little achy. Instead of, or maybe as a reaction to her own sadness, she reached out. and she reached out to ME.

For you see, I had stopped texting her about a month ago, figuring that if she wanted to date me, she'd be more responsive to me, but she hadn't and then I hadn't.

But out of the blue, she texted me. She didn't know my mother was dead, but that's not the point. The point is, she initiated text after I had stopped. She sent me the text which, I don't know--was it a general text "to everyone"? I know those are possible because I get holiday texts from a former client, and I KNOW they aren't specifically sending them to just me.

Hmmm. That changes the direction of this post. I was going to say that maybe The Past Girl is reaching out to me again. Maybe she wants me to be more forward and get this relationship jumped. But now I think it's possible that she sent me spam. Because, of course, my Mom's deceased.

Hmm. Ol' Charlie Brown missed the football again.

But here's what I'm going to do.

I'm going to meet with her and ask her if the phone message was a general send or specifically to me. Whatever she answers, I'm going to tell her that I hoped it was just for me because I missed texting with her and I had the impression that she didn't really want me to after a while and blah blah blah ...

In other words, I'm going to use today's texting as an opportunity to do some honest communication. Because really, I've got nothing to lose. If she doesn't want to date, well hey. We haven't been dating anyway, and I haven't been texting. Nothing changes and no love is lost.

See, when I think about all these Girls each day, my main thought is this;
"I wish I would've said ___________. I wish I could go back in time with what I know about myself now. I wish I had another opportunity to have some real honest conversation with the ladies I've lost."

So now here's an opportunity to Put Up Or Shut Up. And as I'm sure you guys noticed, I've Shut Up for the past few months. I Twitter pretty regularly so I'm not gone. And the Twitter feed is right up there in the blue horizontal bar. Any time you come here, there will be a new tweet to read and if you click on it, you'll get sent to a page with my get stream of consciousness stuff and my half of conversations with other Tweeters.

But I felt like all my back-and-forthing and whining about my faulty sexuality decision-making process had to come to an end. When I finally said what I was going to do, I felt like it was time to Just Do It. "It" = be alone unless I could find the right woman for me. Nothing more needs said because I meant it when I said it. It's really the only thing I can do. Everything else, when honestly considered, counseled, and even approached by taking walks on that side of town and attempting to identify myself with the population--it all ends up as a big fat No Can Do. I don't care what trips Lil' Alan's trigger, Big Alan Can Not Do.

So right now, The Past Girl is the only available girl that I feel safe with. And with anyone else, my clients included, I would be urging them to open up with honest communication if they want to be heard.

Well, time to practice what I preach.

So. That's what's going on.

I'll keep you updated.