A little intuition for us all.

I can’t believe how organized I am this semester. I finished ALL my Spanish homework for the ENTIRE week on Monday! Should I give all the credit to my über intuitive Mac? It’s hard to say whether I have just become less lazy or if the Mac has, in fact, caused my productivity to increase EXPONENTIALLY! The answer that any rational being must come to, intuitively (of course), is a combination of the two. With the end of school now visible in the distant (or not so distant) future, I’ve come to the realization that I really need to buckle down. But also, now with my new Mac all of my work is so in sync with everything else.

My absolute favorite feature of my Mac is how it intuitively knows that the words on the screen are things I need to read and therefore reads them aloud to me. I never have to read again! It’s freakin’ uncanny just how intuitive my Mac is. I bet it’s reading my mind right now as I sit here and write this and thinking of other ways to be intuitive.

I can’t wait for the new Mac OS X Leopard to debut next month. OH THE POSSIBILITIES!!! I will never have to think again thanks to the new ultra über intuitive Mac. Do I need to take a shit? Wait… let me check on my Mac and see. Do I need to cheat on my boyfriend tonight? Wait… let me check my morals… scratch that… let me check my Mac. The only way Apple can improve on this technology is to invent a way to implant the intuitive chip inside our brains so that the intuition is now a part of who we are.

Soon. Very soon.

Thank you Steve Jobs for being the wonderful, intuitive, perfectionist that you are!

I’m sorry but

I had to laugh when I came across this on the CDC website:

“I got an e-mail warning that a man, who was believed to be HIV-positive, was recently caught placing blood in the ketchup dispenser at a fast food restaurant. Because of the risk of HIV transmission, the e–mail recommended that only individually wrapped packets of ketchup be used. Is there a risk of contracting HIV from ketchup?

No incidents of ketchup dispensers being contaminated with HIV-infected blood have been reported to CDC. Furthermore, CDC has no reports of HIV infection resulting from eating food, including condiments.

HIV is not an airborne or food-borne virus, and it does not live long outside the body. Even if small amounts of HIV-infected blood were consumed, stomach acid would destroy the virus. Therefore, there is no risk of contracting HIV from eating ketchup.

HIV is most commonly transmitted through specific sexual behaviors (anal, vaginal, or oral sex) or needle sharing with an infected person. An HIV-infected woman can pass the virus to her baby before or during childbirth or after birth through breastfeeding. Although the risk is extremely low in the United Stats, it is also possible to acquire HIV through transfusions of infected blood or blood products.”

LOL

Someone found my blog by searching…

“bones inside face”

LOL!

Is it really necessary?!

I couldn’t stop laughing when I saw written underneath the NO FOOD sign in the computer lab:

No Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Right.

A Plethora of Gingers

Immediately upon arriving I was surrounded by the most disgusting gingers imaginable. Yuck. Ewwww. Gross. I turned left, then right, then left again. I waded through a sea of freckles in search of dry, gingerless land that I could firmly plant my feet on.

This is how my weekend at the Chicago Celtic Festival began.

All in all, I had a very nice time spending the evening with my honey. I didn’t realize how lively, toe-tapping, make-you-want-to-dance kind of music it is. I’ve never really listened to Celtic music before. In the past I had listened to a couple minutes here and a couple minutes there of Riverdance and thought I had fulfilled my life quota but I was sorely mistaken. If it weren’t for the $7 beers I most definitely would have been drunk. It’s that kind of music that just isn’t fully appreciated without a tall glass of Guinness.

There was one stage that had performers dancing traditional dances and jigs. Wow! It is really incredible the way they can move their legs. I can only imagine how sex would be with someone who can move like that! My honey made a comment to me about how there is very little hip movement. “It sounds like the perfect dance for me!” Because anyone who knows me knows that my hips are permanently cemented in place.

My honey decided to get some fish and chips. Now, I’ve never quite understood (or, for some strange reason, liked) why they call fries chips. If fries are chips, then what are chips?! Anyway, apparently the traditional way to eat it is with malt vinegar. Gosh, I am so uncultured! It tasted okay. I’ve never really been much of a seafood eater so I couldn’t really tell you whether it was that good or not. But judging from the fact that it came from a street vendor I am pretty certain it wasn’t.

Afterwards, he and I spent a nice quiet evening at home watching one of his favorite movies (on VHS!) together as I fell asleep in his arms. It was the perfect ending to a beautiful night.

Him.

In the chaos that has become my life, I find refuge in his sweet embrace.

Two weeks in…

School has already taken over my life. I still can’t believe the amount of work I have for this semester. I feel overwhelmed at times. There is a small glimmer of light at the end of this long tunnel of essays to write and books to read. I have never been this organized and I owe it all to my brand new Mac!! Everything is so well integrated. I think the semester is going to go a lot more smoothly than my previous semesters.

Aside from school, newly created drama is consuming the rest of my life. There is too much to go into details here.

Things are going so nicely with my new sweetie and me.

I could expound on so many things but it is now 2:15am and I desperately need to sleep.

Self-induced Delusions

It began. Again. Just like before, beginning again. Again a new beginning. Though the same, it was different. It was better. Beginning better, just like before. It hadn’t been long since before and in some ways before was still now. Now though, I was happy. Silently happily I sat. While happily sitting I thought. Outloud. There was no one around. It was better to think alone I thought. Sometimes. Sometimes I wished there was someone to listen. There were things that needed to be heard. It should be heard. I would smile. I thought about the things I wanted to say. I was happy. Happily I thought those things that should be heard.

Content or happy? Is there a difference? Was I content at being happy? Crazily I pondered these questions. Rolling around in my head. Happily content? Or just content at being happy?

It is in the silence that I find the comforting loneliness that wets my parched palette. Silently comforting. In comfort I sit. I sit when I think. Outloud. Sometimes. I think when I sit. Sometimes. If I’m tired then I stand. If I’m rested then I sit. Sitting restlessly. Standing to wait, only for that moment when I will sit. Hush. A baby cries. I hear it. But only when I sit. I am happy now, if only for a minute. Minutes vanish as seconds flutter by. The world is changing, always beginning. And so, it begins. Again.

Rice and Michigan

I woke up today expecting it to be just as every other day has been this summer – boring and uneventful. I fixed breakfast/lunch as I thought about how fast the days go by when one wakes up so late. I turned on the television as I sat and ate. It was The Maury Show. I stared at the screen and couldn’t have felt more like white trash. Because we all know that only trash watch shows about trash. I shuddered at the thought.

For some reason, perhaps boredom, The Maury Show has grown on me and now I find the show quite entertaining. For instance, on the second installment of the show (because it’s on back-to-back) there were people with all sorts of phobias. I couldn’t help but LOL at how ridiculous some of them were. Birds?… ok, I could possibly see that. Lizards?… yes, that could definitely be a phobia…. But cotton?!?! This crazy woman was terrified of cotton and the sound it makes! She even had dreams of a cotton man that terrorized her!

The show about phobias was a nice change from the typical “who be my baby daddy” shows that they usually air. At least by being gay we don’t have to worry about impregnating someone; we just have to worry about becoming infected with HIV. It makes a person wonder, which is worse? Dying prematurely or taking care of an unwanted child for decades?

After that excitement I decided I needed to step outside. I then proceeded to walk to my school so I could pick up my U-Pass. I stepped on campus and walked in the building just like I had every other semester. This time was different. This time it was as if time had reversed itself and I was once again celebrating the fourth of July. Rice rockets burst open in all their brown glory. I stopped for a minute and could have sworn I heard the National Anthem playing… “And the rice rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air.” It was truly a spectacle to be seen. I always enjoy returning to school to start a new semester and being reminded at how lucky I am to be surrounded by such beautiful rice rockets. (For those of you not in the know, let me explain a bit. A rice rocket is the new, clever, fun, non-racist way of generalizing the entire population of Asia. It’s very simple, all you do is apply rocket to the end of whatever food the population eats. For example, I would be considered a potato rocket and my good friend Innommable would be considered a bean rocket. It’s as easy as that.) I can see that this semester is going to be very difficult to get through with such magnificent works of art to stare and analyze.

Last Saturday my sweetie and I went to Saugatuck, Michigan for the day. Surprisingly, it is only a two hour trip. We left early in the morning and I could barely stay awake in the car. When we arrived we stopped at a coffee shop and had a coffee. We sat outside as we drank out coffee and ate a piece of peach coffee cake as the birds begged for crumbs. There was a small baby bird that would hop around, still not able to fly. It would peck away on the concrete sidewalk trying to get a morsel of anything and sometimes its mother would come around and feed a bite of something. I enjoyed sitting there in the peaceful calm that is a small town, feeling the cool breeze, and chatting with my sweetie.

It reminded me a lot of home. The people went out of there way to be friendly. There were houses NOT condos. And, people actually had yards. I always enjoy the time I get to spend with my sweetie (who just happens to be a rice rocket). He loves the outdoors and the small town simple life. And so do I, to a degree. It’s nice to get away and just relax, if only for a day.

We then went from shop to shop, gallery to gallery browsing through all the unique gifts and collectibles they have. If I were any good, it would be nice to set up a small gallery and paint all day and have people buy my works of art. There was one shop in particular that had the funniest little things. I debated for a while whether or not to purchase it. They had a Jesus action figure. I laughed. It came with fish and bread and water and wine. They also had a Moses action figure. It was really a fun store.

I would sometimes spend quite a while looking at all the different things in the stores. I never intended on purchasing anything but it was fun to look at it all. I would frequently look around to see where my new beau was and I would always find him standing outside waiting for me to finish browsing. My new beau has the peculiar habit of doing that after he has finished with a store. I love how he’s always so patient. He never complained the entire time even though he had been there many times before and been to all the shops many times as well.

We then took a leisurely stroll through the forest preserve and then to the beach. It was very overcast at this point and looked like it would start raining anytime. It wasn’t exactly ideal weather but just being with him was more than enough. After the rain forced us to leave we then went to dinner. The car ride home was relaxing as the water splashed against the windshield. I don’t think I could have asked for a better day with better company.

Tomorrow is my first day back to work after my long hiatus. I’ll blog about that more tomorrow. It is getting late and this post is getting long. I’ve left out so many details that I may rethink and turn my once a week blog into a biweekly blog.

Sleep well.

The Comeback

This summer has flown by in a whirlwind. It has been a break for me from the monotony of life but in my attempt to break free, it seems I have only created a new ever more monotonous life, if ever a thing could exist. I find myself doing nothing with more frequency than ever before. My mind is whittling away in the vast vacuous wasteland of joblessness, jobless by choice, but jobless nonetheless.

My summer began as my job ended. Summer school was soon to start and I grew giddy with the thought of learning once again, just as a boy who is to begin his first day of kindergarten. I had no time (or need) for a job, or so I convinced myself. So I spoke to my boss and took the summer off. I made my list of things to accomplish during my stint of freedom. I dusted off old books, bought new ones, created list upon list of artistic endeavors to pursue, all in an attempt to be productive.

Before I knew it, summer school had ended. The dog days of summer were just beginning. I hadn’t accomplished anything… yet. I kept telling myself that I just didn’t have time with all the schoolwork and studying I had to do. But, that never kept me from dancing the nights away at the club. For whatever reason, I had become somewhat of a club kid, not fully, but more than I had ever dreamed I would be. The gay “culture” had enshrouded me with the most luxurious silk and proclaimed me king. I stood tall on that stage, bare-chested and proud, and shimmied my way to endless nights of pure fun.

My roommates and I decided to designate one night a month and spend the evening drinking together and getting dressed up and then going out to the club. This was roommate’s night out. The once a month get together quickly turned into a once a week routine of getting drunk, going to the club, and having our way with the men. We turned heads wherever we went. Runways were laid forth before us as we entered all the clubs. We lived the glamorous life but it became all too mundane. The flashy diamonds (costume jewelry), fancy cars (taxis galore), and exotic islands (Blue Island) quickly wore off and I was back to going out every so often with my roommates.

I made good grades this summer and got two classes out of the way. My college career is progressing very nicely and I am finally able to feel the end is coming soon. Granted, I still have two more years left but the midway mark is something to celebrate. I am really going to push myself and try to finish sooner. Wasting away the months at Dunkin Donuts is clearly not going to propel me into anything great or exciting.

There has been one new and very exciting thing to happen to me this summer that I feel if I didn’t talk about then this post would be sorely lacking. Without prior notice, it happened in the most dramatic of ways. But isn’t that how most things great and wonderful appear… without notice. We walked along the lakefront that first date on that warm summer night. He was very quiet and reserved. He didn’t excite me much that first date, as the cloud of awkwardness of meeting someone new became increasingly thicker and thicker. I must have felt something more because, as he called the next day, we made plans to see each other again. We have seen each other off and on for about a month now. There is an excitement accompanied with each time we make plans to see each other, an excitement that has been missing from my life for a long time.

Now, it seems as if I am caught in some sort of earthly purgatory, in between school semesters, waiting to go back to work. I while away my time doing as little as can be imagined. I should be given a little credit, though. I’ve recently started writing again, which has proven to be very cathartic. I’ve started reading Atlas Shrugged. I am excited about returning to work and adding a bit of structure to my life. When a person has nothing that needs to be done, then nothing does get done. The same can be said true about motivation. When a person has no motivation to do anything, then nothing will get done.

I feel there are so many things that I am leaving out of this comeback post. I guess that is what happens when a person goes so long without writing ANYTHING. Frankly, I’m surprised I can still form sentences. It’s a good thing this post is in written form because as many of you know, I can’t even speak properly.

And on that note, I’ll put an end to this drudgery that I call my “Comeback.”

God Hates Fags Like You

He hates those fuckin fags
their hags and prada bags
in their juicy couture
with white speckled faux fur

who’ll fuck any queer
after just a single beer

twice since easter
at least or
maybe more…
could be four
fags he’s sucked and fucked
around with
in alleys, valleys, and sally’s
boutique shop

God hates fags like you
who live life without a clue
of the dew that wets the grass
of the blue that tints the glass

that reflects a million images of you

God hates fags like you

in this way,
He and i are the same

3am: still sleepy eyed

3am: still sleepy eyed
i glance down
at that yellow daisy, still
wrapped with a bow
as i reach for the milk and spill
tiny droplets trickle down
tiny droplets trickle down

a petal withered, a petal fallen
he loves me, he loves me not

i peer out the window, the one above the sink
whose faucet drips, sometimes
when i remember to listen, sometimes

there is no moon tonight
stars lay hidden beneath a blanket of unknown
desires pulled up to chin height
darkness lies everywhere except
for the light of that shy bulb in the fridge

a petal withered, a petal fallen
he loves me, he loves me not

Untitled.

Our eyes meet as the hypnotic lights flash from you to me. You look down at me from upon that pedestal above that sea of inhibitions gone awry. Your flesh sways to each pulse of the music like the slender body of a cobra being charmed.

Dare I come close?

Dare I stay away?

You glide across the floor with the gait of a ballet dancer. You make the music yours, each note, each beat, each rhythm transforming to match each step of your foot. You grab my hand, caressing it slowly, pulling me towards you.

Dare I take the fall?

Dare I dance alone?

I reach out grasping a hand not knowing whether it be yours or mine as our bodies converge into a single mass of emotion. This moment it is right. This moment is ours. I needn’t look into your sweet expressions of innocence to know that you are the one, even if only for tonight. I pull your delicate body close to mine as the night melds into a euphoric blur.

Confessions of a Smoker

Written January 27, 2007

It was in that dark, flesh-filled bar that I entered into the world where habit dictates each move. I inhaled my first drag, not knowing that I had just become another number for the tobacco industry. I was now a statistic – No. 3,334,000,230. My friends call me 3.33 for short.

“No, I am not a smoker. I am not addicted,” I emphatically stated with a cigarette carefully nestled between my index and middle finger.

Weeks went by. Packs of cigarettes burned their way into my lungs. A friend, the one with whom I shared my first smoke with, reminded me each day of the phases of accepting an addiction. I still clutched to the delusion that I could never become addicted.

I knew the perils that face a lifetime of inhalations. Smoking kills and I of all people, having grown up around a grandmother with half a lung left, knew this. Cancer, bad skin, discolored teeth, the stench of your clothes. Yes, I knew all of this.

“It’s like kissing an ashtray,” they always said.

I had yet to have my first romantic kiss and I certainly didn’t want my first one to be marred by the taste of smoke. But he already smokes and so I kissed that ashtray! It wasn’t so bad, in fact, I hadn’t noticed it at all. So, I smoked… and I smoked some more.

All of this happened while I was in Ecuador. I was able to start discovering myself while I was there. It was an experience that forever changed my life and I still wonder what I would be and what I would be doing had I never gone.

I was afraid when I first came home, now being a smoker, to a house of staunch advocates of no smoking. I felt as if I was doing something so wrong that I couldn’t even tell them about it. There is nothing illegal or morally wrong with smoking but yet the stigma of it made me feel so dirty. I hid, or so thought I was, the fact that I now smoke. I would sneak outside under the guise of letting the dog out just so I could get a few drags in before someone saw me. Now that I look back, it was all really silly.

“I smoke now,” I quietly whispered to my mother one night.

We spoke for a while about a lot of different things. I had just returned from being away on my own for a while. It was different this time as we conversed, my mom and me. I was an adult now and the conversation that ensued emanated those feelings of independence associated with adulthood. I have always loved the freedom and independence my parents always willingly (and sometimes not so willingly) given me.

This was all in 2003 and now it is 2007. I have been smoking for almost four years. There have been many times when I wished I would quit, many times when I did quit, and many times when I desired the comfort of smoking. I have always found it odd how something so detrimental to ones life can be so satisfying.

At times, when depression sinks its unrelenting bite into you, it has been that small box of comfort that has kept me afloat. It was the nights I spent crying alone in bed that I most craved that oh so satisfying smoke. They have almost become like that close friend to whom you can tell your most secret of secrets to.

I still crave that companionship of smoke. If only there were something to fill that void…

A (not so) Desperate Housewife.

7:34a.m. – I wake up to Lucy jumping all over me and kissing me in the face. She likes morning breath as was apparent as she almost molested me. If Lucy were on gay.com she would only get online early in the morning and her bio would read: Morning breath +++

7:46a.m. – I get out of bed and brush my teeth and proceed to wander aimlessly around my apartment.

8:00a.m. – Hunger settles in and I decide to fry some potatoes, scramble some eggs, and toast some tortillas. I sit down at my kitchen table and eat, watch the news, and look to see if I have anything on myspace. With myspace, everyday is like Christmas. It’s so exciting when I get comments. Comment me, comment me!!

9:02a.m. – The kitchen is looking a bit grungy so I decide to clean a little. After working up a sweat (you know you like it like that!) I open all the windows and the door to the balcony to let some fresh air in. The weather is fabulous!

10:30a.m. – I’m beginning to feel a little bored so what else but make some cupcakes! I’ve had two cupcake mixes for several months but just haven’t had a chance to make them. Thanks to the Irish Extravaganza I also have some cupcake trays thanks to Lu. I bake them and then make some icing and decorate them.

2:34p.m. – I walk the dog. The weather is so gorgeous that I thought the dog might like it too after having been trapped indoors all winter. Now, you must be thinking – But she likes it when I trap her inside. Well, if you could see the look on her face when I got the leash out then you’d know that this was the day she had dreamt about for months. I walked her with my roommate to the bus stop as he went to work. We (the dog and I) decided to head over to see what drama Mr. Shorty Shorts was doing. As usual, he was just getting out of bed. It is such a nice day that we sit outside drinking French rose (with an accent on the e in rose) and chatting about all sorts of things. Drinking in the afternoon is definitely THE life. Sugar pie… c’mere sugar pie… I mean, Lucy.

6:14p.m. – I arrive home to an empty house and decide to do what any normal person would do – give the dog a haircut. She doesn’t really mind the clippers except when they get close to her ears. I guess the buzzing sound in her ear is not exactly pleasing. Hmm… I wonder if I had a pet bee if it would notice the buzzing sound. She looks fab, as the mod fag would say. I do really great work!

7:46p.m. – We shower together so I can get all the loose hair off. Now why can’t I ever find some hot guy to groom and then shower with?!

9:16p.m. – Bedtime!

Never been much into…

Generou$ hosting now… Do you play for pay?

Cum on over, I’ve got a gloryhole in my apt…

Cover your face, close your eyes

PNP for M4M… just another NSA, one night stand

I wade around in a sea of acronyms…

Surrounded by queens and queers

Straight-acting, fems, bitches, and “daddies”

I have a dad… thank you very much

Bears scare me; cubs are adorable

They laughed when I said

I just saw one at the zoo

JK… LOL

JK… LOL

My life.

“I have had it. I’m sick and tired. I’m fed up, at my wits ends, at the end of my rope, had my fill, won’t tolerate any more… Suggestion, insinuation, constructive criticism, nuanced phrases, advice or passing commentary
On how I live my life or what might possibly be wrong with it.
You know, I’m a reasonable intelligent person. I don’t drive intoxicated. I don’t commit crimes that endanger anyone. I’m not a bigot, a sexist, a fundamentalist, a radical or a sexual deviant.
I’m tired of people telling me how and what I ought to do to ensure a better future.
Most of these people have good intentions, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying. I’ve got a plan.
It might not be the best plan and it might not be the popular plan, but it’s my plan and its what I’m going to do. It’s as simple as that.
I’m tired of being told about being gay. I’m tired of people telling me I’m not born this way, that I’m going to hell for it, or that I’m sort of sex fiend because of it. These things aren’t said to me as information like, “Smoking will kill you know.” It’s said to judge me, to cut me down, to make me feel a little less about myself, to make me believe I’m doing something wrong. It isn’t said so I’ll change. It’s said so I’ll hate myself. I don’t understand. This is my life. And the way I live it, the things I do with it, the parts of it I’m born with and can’t change (even if I wanted to) are not open for discussion.
Unto myself, I am gay. What’s it to you Mr. always-has-something- to-say, homophobic, never-made-the-honor-roll, Dixie jackass? I didn’t ask you to be gay. I didn’t tell you it was better than the way you lived life. And yet I should burn in hell, I should commit suicide, I should vacate your precious straight America?

I don’t live in fear of hell, sir. I live with the fear that heaven could possibly be populated by people like you.
I also live with the reality of the greatest country on the Planet;
I obviously don’t agree with the things you say. But unlike you, I absolutely believe in your right to say it, foolish and ignorant as it might be.

If it’s crazy, someone else’s thing is to spout against it. If it’s good, it’s someone else’s thing to help that good be seen. If it’s dangerous then there’s some out there whose thing it is to protect people from it. It doesn’t matter what people do. There will always be someone else to balance them out.
So no matter what it is, I don’t see it making any difference in the individual lives of anyone where on when I shove my show.

I’m American. I’m Panamanian. I’m Gay. I’m democratic and I’m an elitist.
I’m always going to be all of those things.
No matter what anyone says, no matter how witty they think they are, no matter what credentials they have, it’s always going to be true. I’m going to live how I want to live. I’m going to make the decisions I think are the best at the time. I’m going to love whatever my heart tells me to. I’m going to spend all my money on absolutely nothing and I’m going to do it with a smile.
And I invite the entire world to kiss my ass if that’s just so unacceptable.”

- Philip 2005

I was going through some of the writings of one of my favorite writers and came across this. I love it and thought I would share it with anyone who reads this blog.

Never meant to be.

I was excited with the expectation of meeting and discovering who this man is that I had been talking to for so long. I kept telling myself that this “date” we were to have meant nothing. This would have been in all likelihood the ONLY time we would have met.

I questioned why I would want to go meet someone that I was so interested in if there would never be a future possibility of getting to know him better. And, even with that realization, I still desired to see him more than ever. I needed to know if this person is really in fact everything that I had imagined. I needed to know if a future date COULD have existed. The two possibilities raced through my mind. If you are the sweet, innocent, perfect man for me that I had envisioned then our first date would be all too bittersweet. If you are the antithesis of what I had imagined you to be then feelings of despondency would creep in. There was really no ideal outcome that could have been achieved.

But, I was still excited to meet you. I purchased some beautiful flowers earlier in the day. I imagined us sitting together to a nice quiet dinner. It would have been an adventure, a chance to be silly, to have fun, to laugh and to smile, to create memories that will last a lifetime. It would have been romantic but not uncomfortable, casual and easy-going. A walk along the lake after a nice dinner, enjoying a nice wine with undoubtedly good conversation. There would have been a crispness in the air, but not too cold. I would grasp his hand in mine and we would enjoy a silent smile, knowing that this moment it was right, that nothing could take this moment away from us.

That is the perfect date I envisoned us having.

It never was, never will be, but I’ll still be ok.

You are beautiful to me.

I tucked it away underneath that old, familiar blanket. Strands of crimson, cream, and olive weaved together to form the warm resting place of my heart. I left it there the day you constructed that wall of silence between us. Each subsequent day I continued my routine of life. I denied your existence, told myself it was a dream.

“If there was no you then there could never be the unanswered questions, the pain, the heartache, the craving, or the want,” I continually told myself.

The snow blew hard that day as I peered out the window and envisioned us curled up next to a fire. The rain dripped down off the curls of my hair as I imagined us dancing under the storm clouds. I spent these silent moments with you. I felt your comforting presence, even in the silence you had pronounced upon us.

I could never forget you, the many conversations we had, or the feelings evoked from them. I still have them, your words, and read them when I feel alone. They comfort and caress me. Many times I have attempted to scale that cold, slippery wall just to catch a glimpse of your sweet face or hear your gentle voice. Each time falling back to where I began… until last night.

“Hi,” you said.

No sweeter words had I ever heard. I smiled at the possibilities of being able to speak to you once again.

Why? – that’s all I really needed to know. I needed to know why and how a person can suddenly end everything without even looking back. I needed to know how a person could leave with no explanation, no goodbye, no “thanks for everything but I must go now.”

Tonight I will know everything I desire as we converse over dinner. Tonight I will see who this man is that has captured a piece of me. Tonight I will either go to meet my prince or the aberration of all my hopes, desires, and emotions.

A Joke.

Johnny wanted to have sex with a girl in his office…
but she belonged to someone else…

One day Johnny got so frustrated that he went up to her and said, “I’ll
give you a $100 if you let me have sex with you…”
but the girl said, “NO.”

Johnny said, “I’ll be fast, I’ll throw the money on the floor, you bend
down, and I’ll be finished by the time you pick it up.”
She thought for a moment and said that she would have to consult her
boyfriend…
so she called her boyfriend and told him the story.

Her boyfriend says ask him for $200 then pick up
the money very fast…
he won’t even be able to get his pants down.

She agrees and accepts the proposal.

Half an hour goes by and the boyfriend is waiting for his girlfriend to
call. Finally after 45 minutes the boyfriend calls and asks what
happened…She said, “The bastard used quarters!”

Management Lesson: Always consider a business proposal in it’s entirety
before agreeing to it, and getting screwed.