Sunday Morning

Gym, or Jack N' The Box

"You move in the direction you think."

For me, walking out to the gym at 1a.m. covered in sweat with my headphones blaring, is the most triumphant and empowering part of my life. It's that feeling, one of being Alexander the Great standing over King Darius, that I crave. Yet, why do I forget that feeling when I want to skip the gym and head straight for the bar?

It is funny how I must re-learn this lesson, over and over. How we as humans sabotage our own happiness. I find that there is nothing better in my world than completing a great workout and to be filled with accomplishment. And yet, it is tough to shut-off the little part of our brains that does not  want me to have this feeling of happiness. As I feel it is not deserved.  Is this because we attach value to the negative beliefs and thoughts we have on deserving rewards? These nagging doubts on whether we really deserve what we're striving for; apprehension that we don't deserve success. It is that fear of our achievement that isolates us.

I guess I need to pay better attention. Tune into my thoughts. Listen to find out if they are trying to sabotage my goals.  Free myself from this cycle negatively impacting the things that make me happy. Spend more energy smashing these anti-sucess beliefs with a frickin' dumbbell.

RLF (Rabbit Liberation Front)

Outside of the grand metropolis of Denver, Colorado is God's country. Well, I am unsure if it was God himself who declared this statement upon a massive billboard next to the interstate just out of where civilization ends and farms begin.  Yet, I passed this billboard in my unyielding quest to do what I've done non-stop since school let out; shop for a new car. This visit to the countryside brought me to a dealership that specialized in over sized Dodge farm trucks.

I was; however, not there for the farm trucks. I was there for the Jeeps. This particular dealership had Wranglers in spades. So many that they were not on the dealers lot, but on a grass knoll next to the sprawling complex.  I climbed the grass knoll to look for a Wrangler with my tight, and unquenching list of "needs" like, the correct radio, automatic climate control, the best color.  Sometimes I feel I should do what BMW owners have done for decades. Fly to the factory, pick their new car up straight from the assembly line, drive around Germany, and have it shipped home. Although, instead of zipping around Munich, I'd be touring around Toledo, Ohio.  No difference, really.

As I peered into window after window I noticed something strange under every Jeep. Cages? Those humane trap cages used to capture feral cats. Since this was God's country and there was noting but fields around the dealership, I was intrigued as to what they were capturing. Then, I saw a cage with a huge rock in it. Wait? A furry rock?  A huge furry rock with ears? Bunny!!!!!!!!

The dealership had a line of fuzzy bunnies in cages. All looking scared as they pretended to be rocks. As the facility was closed, those bunnies  would be there a long time. This is when I snapped. I grabbed the cage with a terrified rabbit inside and began to dislodged the bunny. Shaking the cage like a ketchup bottle.  Upon freeing three bunnies,  I had trouble with the fourth cage. As I struggled with the door, the bunny inside and I locked eyes. This is when I said out loud, "I'm going to get you out of here" in my best Indiana Jones voice. After shaking the cage like a cereal box the bunny went bouncing to the ground. I'm sure he thanked me as he ran for the safety of the fields.

I ran too. To my car. I'm quite sure there was video of a crazy man manifesting bunnies like a magician. They would of told me everything that everyone else has said upon hearing of my idiotic act.  That rabbits harbor disease, I could easily of picked up something. It is not like I licked them. I didn't even touch them. I was raised on a farm with pet rabbits, I do know all the precautions. Like to not mess with strange rabbits under Jeeps. As for buying a Jeep out in God's Country? No thank you. All their Jeeps have damn rabbits chewing up the wiring. They really should do something about that.

Stevie B. Bunny Wrangler. 

Stevie's Choice

It is like Sophie's Choice; yet with less Nazis.

If you have been reading my blog for the last year, not there has been a lot of reading, you know that I've been in the market for a new vehicle. This has meant two auto shows, countless trips to a plethora  of dealerships, and endless conversations. Weekly the car-breeze would shift.  To spare you the well-worn details, I have always been a 4X4 gay. Then, four years ago I traded in the Jeep for a four-door sedan. This was under the guise of growing up into a tie wearing man, and gas milage. Gas at the time was right around $27 dollars a gallon, if I'm remembering correctly.


Now it is time to finally stop debating and make a choice. Although; I sort of wish Doctor Mengele was forcing me to choose between the two vehicles I have selected. It would make it easier. So, I made America's Memorial Day as the deadline. I'll either get one of the two choices, a Toyota Tacoma or a Jeep Wrangler Unlimited.

The Tacoma is easy, I will just choose a color and be done. The Jeep has so many differing options and packages, it may take the entire day of Memorial Day just to pick a package. Mr. Mike and I spent the day yesterday driving to three dealerships just to plan out what options I even like on a Jeep.

Knowing me, if I just don't spin around in a circle and point to a car, I will never make up my mind.


Talk about gayboy first world problems.

Sunday Morning

A 365 day Challenge

You know how you stand there and watch the whirling colors of strange clothes wiz past while waiting for your clothes to round the mechanized bend; to finally come into view of the young Korean guy with the skinny waist? As you wait at the dry cleaner for what it seems to be a lifetime you see other's choices in clothes. "Wow, someone owns a realtor-like blazer in THAT color??" As you start to be all judgy on how anyone would come back to claim a lime green faux silk cowboy shirt, your collection of plaid flannel comes into view.  Like no one has ever stood there, checking out the hot Korean, and judged anyone who would own seven flannel shirts, all in differing shades of red.

 This is how I feel people are reacting to my beard.

It started on my Birthday, a personal challenge lasting 365 days. I wouldn't  shave for 365 days. I would see if I could go a full year into a life of beardedness.  It has been 107 days since Tuesday, January 28, 2014, and I am now sporting full-on face fur.  I am now beginning to notice that my furry face has drawn out a lot of people wanting to talk, debate, and even judge my "secret" challenge.  Like the plastic wrapped wardrobes spinning past me at the dry cleaner. It seems anyone can offer their opinion.  Please know, I'm not complaining, it has been amazing to see how individual's expressing opinions are more a refection of their own selves.

Love it, or hate it. I have 257 more days.

Pre-StevieBeard

StevieBeard

Sunday Morning

Locked into New Possibilities

I have to admit I had not been to the gym in a while. There was a couple days missed along with checking out the gym in the Highlands. The Highland area of Denver, that is. The Highland location 24Hour Fitness is quickly becoming my favorite gym in Denver. This is due to the inordinate amount of smoking hot guys at all times. You can't swing a Nasty Pig jock without hitting a hot bro. And, I've tried.

I had not been to the gym in several days, it was midnight, I was very tired. As I reached into my gym bag for my lock, the same way for thirteen years, my hand came up empty handed. My lock wasn't in my gym bag. Gone. Forever.  I started to think back to when I bought that lock. It was upon joining 24Hour Fitness in Dallas, 2001. After the  all gay, glitter gym closed down without warning, I reluctantly joined the 24Hour on Mckinney Avenue.  I felt so common, having to purchase a lock, instead of the oak lined built-in-lock lockers at the fancy gay gym. But, I did.  Out were the free heated towels; in were working out with... you know.... girls.

All of this history ran through my head, as things do when you're getting older, and you're standing alone in your Under Armour in public after midnight.  One begins to reminisce about the old days, and things you once owned. Now gone forever. I raised my head; realizing that change is good. Change must happen in one's life. A new lock means new things coming into my world. I welcome new things. New people. New adventures. New..... oh.... that locker across the way has a lock on it that's very distinctive. Like mine..... could it have been left locked on an empty locker for all this time? I walked over, tried the well known combination, and snap. It opened. After days of  being locked there, no one had bothered it.

Some times, life makes you wake up to new possibilities in tiny ways. Some times, I'm
forgetful. 

Run Stevie Run

For some reason, I can only write term papers whilst listening to the sound track to Run Lola Run.  I have been doing this for so many years, I can't remember how it started. It's just one of those strange habits or rituals that rule my life. Like putting on my baseball cap, taking it back off, then putting on, three times.

That being said, I am now listening to Run Lola Run. For the last time this semester. And despite the fact that I have already written 900 words, I have a lot of times through the soundtrack to go. Even after I caught spell check changing conscious to couscous, as in "the Doctor made a couscous decision to abort the fetus" I have to make my own mediterranean salad made from granules of durum wheat to buckle down and finish listening to Lola for the last time today. 

I do have to apologize though; I guess I have been whining about this term paper so much that even the possibly trans barista at my coffee shop has asked me how my Ethics paper is coming along. By Sunday night it will be turned in, regardless of couscous.

Standing up For A "C"

I have received the emails. The Facebook messages, and phone calls. "Steve, are you dead? Why haven't you blogged?" Thank you,  for checking on me. 

Yes. I know, it has been the longest I've ever gone without blogging. This is due to my school work. But, my absence from blogging was for a good cause.  My lack of writing can be completely blamed on a certain Ethics and Philosophy professor.  A professor, unlike any other I ever met.  A professor that started the semester on "How gay marriage is incompatible with moral ethics." 

The fun stopped there. 

The whole argument was nothing you had not heard before. How marriage was only for the promise and purpose of procreation. That the only valid union was one centered upon coitus.  When the whole class seemed to agree with him, I knew it was going to be a rough semester.  Trust me, I stood up for the team. Every paper, every homework, every assignment this semester was then centered around the fight and struggle for acceptance of LGBT peoples. 

There was a six page paper on transgendered couples raising children. Another on how the dogma of religion is used as a crutch for the anti-marriage movement. 

All of this effort has taken twice as long, and twice and much energy as any college class should take. I feel I had to stand up, regardless of the loosing. I have been writing more than I should of invested, then chucking all my effort at a brick wall. With the 75% and 78%  grades I have been getting back; I know I have probably wasted my time.  Standing up and making an augment to a closed mind. 

I may get a "C" in the class. 

I'll be more proud of my "C" than any other grade I have ever received.