Flowers In The Attic

It is a pretty horrible scenario when you equate your job to horrible pop-culture references, but that is the state of affairs for me.

This story all begins one year prior to now. Last winter, there was a lot of chaos in my job, and a LOT of instability. This was in result of us, going to outside people for assistance regarding some injustices that have been occurring as a result of some people not pulling their weight.

What occurred after many months of not knowing if we would have jobs from one day to the next, as being told that this could be so by our superiors, was that the two who caused the most havoc, were given exit packages.

After nearly 9 months of torment, and uncertainty, things finally seemed to evolve. Sure, my boss and us have our issues with trusting one another, but in time, it would seem things would go back to normal--or at least it is how it seemed.

Sadly, it isn't the case. My superior, fueled by her own insecurity and controlling anxiety, met with a few of us to going over some protocols. Such as "Can't means Won't", "This is a democracy, but the buck stops with me (an oxy moron, if you will)", and using phrases like "insubordination and debating"

Basically, I left the meeting with impression that we are just suppose to say Yes to whatever she wanted--end of story. And anything that might seem like a differeing of opinion would be viewed as an attack.

This reminds me of some pop culture references, such as: Flowers in the Attic, and the Burning Bed. If you haven't seen either, you must, because they are both too fabulous not to see. But, the reality of these two stories is very real, and quite abusive situations for the victims. Farrah Fawcett, in the Burning Bed, is married to this Pr**k of a husband who beats her, plainly for sport. And during the movie she just takes it, with the hopes that it'll get better, like it used to be before he started beating her brains out.

And for the Flowers in the Attic, the mother basically abandoms her children and allows for them to be abused by their mentally ill grandmother, so she can go off and have a fabulous life without them.

These references I use, because that is what seems to be the case for me and my colleagues. We don't get any of the rewards from the fruit of our labors, and we keep hoping that while we are getting kicked when we are down, that things will still get better-- and refert back to the way were before--- when everything was "better".

At the end of both of these films, the "victims" became empowered. Farrah, with her heroine hairstyle, burned down her house, while her husband was sleeping in bed. And the Children in the Attic escaped their Grandmother's wrath, and moved to Florida, where there are constantly "flowers" in bloom.

The perplexing thing about being actively involved in any dysfunctional/abusive relationship is that, you never see outside of yourself, to know that things could be better. Instead, you keep hoping things will eventually get better where you are, and are far too afraid that if you do take the leap of faith, you will wind up in a worse place than you are currently.

The reality is that there are choices in life, despite at times, when you can be made to feel that there aren't. As a result, you need to make a stance. Either stay in the attic, or get beat to death by the bed, OR climb down the drain pipe to find a better pasture.

And I believe this is the time I go and find me some flowers. Otherwise, I might wind up burning that bed-- and I cannot rock being a prison bitch.

Reconnection

Life lately has been extremely busy for me. Albeit, from the birthday that just passed. 33, I am now, and what a scary number it is to evoke out of your mouth. Wow!

Over the last few months, I have felt a disconnect with my really close friends. It is nothing that I or they did, but a result of life circumstances. Despite this being the case, it is tremendously difficult for someone, like myself, not to feel a little abandoned.

Granted, I realized that this was in result of my own insecurities and my own issues, but the feelings were there. So, I decided to refute this feeling by having a b-day dinner in my honor.

My very good friend decided he would volunteer to coordinate it for me, and it actually wound up being a great experience.

Though, even with the party, it didn't still evade the feelings I had about feeling this disconnect. These feelings only became more exasperated by certain close friends either cancelling the last minute, or not being able to make it all.

The one thing I have learned as I have gotten older, is that I am not the center of the universe. And because of this, sh*t happens and things just can't be as perfect as you envisioned. Admittedly, I am a work-in-progress when it comes to this realization.

It is with this admission, that I choose to not let the non-responsders, and cancellations, get to me. I tried to not take them too personally, and I actually allowed the events of the evening take me where they could-- which was to an extremely happy place.

And as a result, not only did I enjoy myself with those who came, those who didn't show, were able to do other things with me, to display to me that they truly cared for me.

While I am not, and may never be at the point of Self-Actualization in Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, I am certainly on the road of being content with who I am and for me to realize this for myself, internally, that I am of value.

One day at a time.

Badge Of Courage

This weekend proved to be one of challenges and overcoming insecurities.

As I mentioned in my previous blog, this weekend was filled with the biggest, gayest, party of the year, and I was on the invite list. Being overweight in the gay community is often far worse a life circumstance, than being accused of killing your first born. It is as if you have leprosy, and people are afraid if they associate with you, that, they, themselves, will catch the overweight disease.

Skeptical, and truly having a lackluster desire to be in this world, I still went anyway. I peeled myself off of my couch, climbed myself through 22 inches of falling snow, and walked the mile to the party.

As expected and with very little doubt, the party was crammed with people. Mainly filled with taken men, or with so beautiful of men, that you can find yourself stuttering to yourself just by looking at them.

Despite all this, I went there, I engaged in a few conversations, and assimilated myself into my gay culture.

I walked away, with no bruises, not harmed egos, and no hurt feelings. Sure, I wasn't the life of the party, but it certainly wasn't as bad as I perceived it would be.

Perhaps, I'll never fully meet the criteria for attraction in the gay community. But, you know, I am pretty sure, that I'll meet the criteria for some, and after going to this party, I am sure that this can happen. All I need to have is a little faith and be myself, and something will turn up.While I realize it isn't an easy task to do, it is one certainly manageable and one that I am ready to give a whirl again.

Gay Dynamics

Let me preface this blog by saying, I love being gay. Being a homosexual is an extraordinary life experience. Sure, if you asked me when I was a teenager, would I have chosen this life path, I would have said no. However, after being out, and living my life as a gay male, I love my individuality.

But, with all great things, come great obstacles. For instance, I often feel like I am objectified. I feel like gay males, don't seem to care about your character as much as whether you have a big dick, bank account, and a tight body.

This weekend, I will be enduring this type of atmosphere once again. I have been invited to one of the biggest, gayest, parties of the year. Many gays we'll be there, speculating who has slept with you, who will be sleeping with who and who will be getting plastered.

There is a guarantee of their being plenty of alcohol, not enough food, and at least 30% of the people getting laid. I suppose I will be the lucky one, cause I know that most will judge me as too fat and not wealthy enough to entertain.

Yet, when you are in that kind of environment, the last thing you want is not to fit in. Sure, on the surface, you should feel good that you are above it. However, it is like in High School, no matter how much you hate the cool people, you still want to be invited to eat lunch with them at their table at least for one day. Not so much to be a part of the crowd, as much as it to see what it would be like to be them, just for a moment.

So, while I will bitch about the antics that will be occurring at said party, there is a part of me that will like to relish in the thought that maybe I'll be lucky enough to have a taste of it.

And if that doesn't happen, at least there will be plenty of alcohol to suppress the inner desire-- if only for the night..

Life Of A Lone Superstar

My entire life I have had this inner feeling that I was meant for greatness. It started when I was about 7 years old, and I remember living in my lower-class city neighborhood, and KNEW that I wasn't meant to live the life that I was exposed to.

I always thought I felt this disconnect because I wanted to get a higher education. I wanted to go to College, and get a degree. From the time since I was in the womb, my Mother always instilled in me and later my brother the importance of college and how it was important to go and become successful. While, my brother never adjusted to the idea of college or school, I did. As a result, I excelled in academia, went onto college, graduated, went to graduate school at an IVY league university, graduated, and believed I have achieved this greatness of destiny.

I was wrong. After completing graduate school, and finally proving to myself that I am intelligent (a inner insecurity I had inside myself since I was in grade school), I still felt empty. I began and still continue to feel incomplete. I feel that there is more out there for me and I have begun to think I have been suffocating my soul by ignoring this urge.

When I was in 6Th grade, we had an assignment. The assignment was simple: write a paper about what you want to be someday. I thought about the assignment, and decided that I wanted to be an actor. My Mom, while didn't discourage me from this aspiration, told me that I should get a higher education first, just in case that dream didn't pan out. For whatever reason, in my psyche, I took this to mean to not do it. So, instead, I wrote a paper about wanting to be a teacher.

While I got a B+ on the paper (albeit, since the emotion behind the paper wasn't authentic), I continue down this quest. I went to college, got a degree in a safe field and now work in this said safe field. I garnered a safe job ( a very good one in fact), and did all the *right* things with my life. Yet, the calling, the feeling, the desire, still echoes in the back of my brain.

The irony to this is that I am stale Television watcher. I watch the same shows over and over. Yet, when I do watch them, I envision myself in that world, what I could bring to the table, and how at home I would feel there.

I love to make people laugh, I love to see the reaction of pleasure on their faces, I love to know that I am giving them a joy that most cannot fulfill for them in their daily lives.. Yet, I have been afraid to embrace my desire. I have been afraid the light of it would be to0 glaring for my eyes and most of all, afraid of failing.

Until now. This new year will bring more to me. Will bring more to my psyche and I will become more fulfilled. I will get exposed to the calling, and with any luck and with time and practice, the emptiness I have been ignoring will fade... forever.

Size Does Matter

The struggle with my waistline started later in life. I woke up one day, when I was a senior in College to find that my metabolism lapped into a severe coma. Undoubtedly from the years of abuse I subjected it to during my adolescent and teenage years.

After College, I went on a diet, and did a exercise routine consisting of yoga and tae-bo, and lost a great deal of weight-- about 30 lbs. Newly, immersing myself into my gay community, losing this weight did help with my social life. I met some really nice boys, went out and party like any early 20 something should do, and embraced my new size and me.

Then, I met a boy. We had a tumultuous relationship to say the least, that ended very badly and caused me to be cynical, eat my emotions and cocoon myself by entering myself into a graduate school program.

Graduate school, caused me to eat more of my emotions (albeit from the mounds of schoolwork coupled with my regular job work-load), and, by the end of my tenor in graduate school, I gained the 30lbs I lost with another 20 to boot.

So, what did I do? I looked into the mirror and decided I had enough of what I was seeing, and started working out-- HARD. I ran 8 miles every other day, and before I knew it, I was back in my *skinny* jeans.

Then, it happened again. I met a boy, fell hard, it ended badly, and I put back on a good portion (not all the weight), I worked so hard to loose.

Most would recognize this as a pattern; I recognize this behavior as "protection". I often protect myself by sabotaging me.

Having a fat layer, deters people, I find from being attracted to me. Which in the end, prevents me from getting involved, which ultimately prevents me from getting hurt. The rationalization I know is ridiculous, but for some reason, being thinner makes me vulnerable..

So, what now? I am going to venture into being vulnerable once again. I just hope that this time, when I do, I don't pay the same price as I have before.

Envy

Envy is an old and detrimental friend of mine. It has visited throughout my entire life. When I was a child I always envied those who had more, or were more popular, or were better looking. Envy has been condition that I have always had, and never understood why I have it, and seems to be something I could never shake-- no matter how hard I have tried.

Once again, Envy has made a visit to me. I am sure my old friend will be staying with me throughout the holidays. Enough time for me to look at my life, look at others, and feel somewhat disdain at the disparity between them.

When I came out of the closet, I thought my life filled with Envy was over. I thought I finally overcame this friendship I had with it, since I no longer had to be compared to my straight friends' lives. This prove not to be the case.

I have seen so many of my gay friends in and out of relationships. Some are in it for the long hall, while others date someone every other week. I have seen some of my gay friends toss me aside for their lovers, and remember who I was after the relationship ran its course.

All the while, as these friends have done this to me, the only emotion I have felt was Envy. Not anger, disappointment or sadness, but Envy. Envy for how easily they find someone. Envy for how their lives seem to take off easier than mine. Envy for how they can meet people, or garner interest from men so easily, and envy for how easily when things don't workout they find someone new.

I know it is a sin to have Envy. I know that is wrong. I realize that I shouldn't feel the way that I do. But I do. I know I should be more supportive and be a better person, but at this moment, I simply can't.

All I can do is invite Envy in to my house, pour it a cup of tea, and catch up with my dear old friend.