Tuesday, June 27, 2017

I need a Beret


I once again find myself in that seemingly unending process. Attempting to find college classes that sync up. Sync up with each other (as in two on a Monday / Wednesday schedule) and match my work schedule.

In case you haven’t enrolled in university classes in a bit, there is a website that attempts help you make informed choices. For say…. Philosophy.  Entering the course title lists 145,393 differing choices of classes. The built in metrics engineering knows what time of day you need to take for your degree, then only gives you dates and times that could not possible be more inconvenient.  I need an evening class entitled Ancient Philosophy that starts at 8am, or after 3:45pm on either Monday/Wednesday or Tuesday/Thursday. This means that all Ancient Philosophy classes are held sharply at 11am or 1pm. These class times are designed to bring about the most irritation to my work schedule. Well, and to jive with the professors schedule.

Okay, yes. Philosophy professors need to sleep late. We all know they spend the late-night hours inside coffee shops debating whether “the greatest minds are capable of the greatest vices as well as of the greatest virtues”… or not.  Their worn out berets covered in lint from the sagging headliner of their 1980 Toyota Cressidas. So I understand that mornings would be out, but no classes after 1pm? Do Serving shifts at The Olive Garden start that early?

I feel like I am attempting to pull a Da Vinci Code as I match coded messages from beyond the mists of time. Will I actually find a couple of classes that are available together and doesn’t have be leaving work from 11:30am until 1252pm twice a week? Probably not. This is why people drop out of college and become Servers at Olive Garden…. Or if they’re Professors.

 

Monday, June 26, 2017

Pride


Pride Fest came and went. There comes a time where you can fall into a feeling where you just believe that pride festivals are for the youngins.  Yes, I remember my first pride. I can tell you all the pride events after that, and how much sun block and alcohol was consumed. But, after your twenty-eighth pride you can lose the since of triumph that comes along with being able to stand in the sun and declare your true self to the world. Just so you know, you should not do that. Forget that it is a luxury.

The most fun about watching the pride parade is whom you watch it with. The BFs friends are in their twenties and early thirties. Some had just discovered the joy of pride day. Seeing a gay parade through these eyes helps to reconnect. A young lesbian kept turning to me during the procession of floats and asking questions… “What is a… Imperial Court of the Rocky Mountain Empire?” I raised an eyebrow to think that one through. What is court? Even though it’s been around long before my time, and even had attended events back in the 1990s. “It’s… like a Shriners group… a social club for drag queens. Before they were allowed in public and into the bars. Drag queens had a social club to meet, where they would be safe.” Whoo. I thought I explained that one pretty well. “Safe from what?” She asked. This twenty-something lesbian lives in a world were Denver is a safe, embracing city.

This realization of time passing was of course countered by me sharing a story of how one pride I was tripping my balls on ecstasy so hard I just wandered the full parade route in just my Calvin’s and was met by side-eye and questions if X was a thing so far back and if Calvin Klein was alive back then.

Do not; I repeat, do not forget why we as a tribe have pride events. And, do not think that it is no big deal. It is a huge deal. To be able to stand in the sun and declare yourself to the world.

Friday, June 23, 2017

Degree


I changed my college major. Again.

I know I have changed my major roughly nine-hundred times since George H. W. Bush was in the Whitehouse and I started my path of higher education.  This time I’m going to stick to it. I can state this declaration mostly because I am old, and tired of going to school.

With all of my classes and tallied up credits I only have 35 more credits until I they give me a degree in Philosophy. A degree of which, I said to the chair of the Philosophy Department and my assigned guidance counselor, will not gainfully employee me one tiny bit.  This is the type of degree that people pursue purely for the love subject; not to look good on a resume. Unless you’re attempting to appear deep. Or… if you are attempting succeeding at being a pompous ass during a dinner party. “Well I am a philosopher, and I wrote a thesis on feminism and the third wave feminist philosophers, so I can say…”  

What a twat degree.

But, it is what I like, so off I go. I do promise that I will not bring third wave feminism up into any conversions I may have over dinner table topics. Unless asked. I am more of an ancient philosopher kinda dude anyway. Seeing as my minor is ancient history.  

Thursday, June 22, 2017

Potter


It started on our trip to California. The BF and I went to Universal Studios to visit Harry Potter world.

Now I have written extensively on the subject of my crippling fear of roller coasters. On this particular trip I was feeling down, mostly because it was only the two of us, and I felt I hindered the BF’s joy of getting to ride some California coasters. So I was excited to find out that the Harry Potter ride was a 3-D ride. These style of rides I totally enjoy.

We entered the park a couple of hours earlier than most visitors and were able to jump on the Harry Potter ride without a long wait. We rode it several times that day. It was amazing. After our rollercoaster-fix and as we waited in line to purchase a wand at Ollivander’s Wand Shop somehow the nerdy kid inside of me clicked on, and I was in love with the world of Harry Potter. Don’t get me wrong, I read all the books when they first came out. But, it wasn’t anything more than fun books to read.  As I gave my card to anyone with a fake British accent I began to really feel the passion. We bought wands. We bought robes. We made ourselves sick on Butterbeer. A twelve year old nerd, with a credit card with a massive limit. I remember thinking as we stood in line to buy a one-hundred dollar Hufflepuff robe, that I had not been that happy in ages. Like really, down to my very soul happy. No worries about my work, or paying bills. Just happy.  

Since our trip to Hogsmeade Village, I have re-read all the books in the series.  And like the rest of the nerds, I anxiously waited for the newest creation of J.K. Rowling, The Cursed Child. Then it did. And my truly happy feeling came back.
 

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Run Stevie Run


Hi there. How’ve you been? Good I hope.

Summer has started today. For me this means the non-stop yearning for the air-conditioner to get colder. I have started that horrid and very unattractive sweaty sleep cycle. It was so bad last night that even the dog complained of the river of sweat coming to his part of the bed. Which in directly in the middle between me and the boyfriend.

I completed the 5K I was training for so desperately. I wasn’t very fast, but in the age bracket of 45-50 I kicked some geezer ass. I was amazed at how much fun it actually was. The training program I had put in place was based upon not doubling over in pain as all my friends left me behind for dead. With this amount of fear placed around public humiliation in front of your friends; you can really accomplish fantastic feats. I have found this week that I am missing the training. Last Monday I went to the gym with a great sense of relief that I didn’t have to run the tread mill for 45 minutes. I left the gym in record time and was happy I didn’t run, but come Tuesday I missed the habit I formed since January 1st. Today I am actually looking forward to seeing my old friend. Mister Treadmill. I guess it’s true. Habits, even painful ones, are formed through repetition, but maintained though the decided effort of improvement.

I honestly didn’t think passed June 17 when planning out my 2017. So I kind of feel like I have time on my hands. What next? Hike anyone.

Friday, March 31, 2017

Grace, Frankie and Gravy

Last night the boyfriend and I were watching the finial episode of Grace and Frankie. The Netflicks comedy staring Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin. We also were enjoying a flavorful treat from a takeout chicken joint. I had just discovered that if you dunk corn fritters into chicken gray it can be heaven in your mouth. Apparently I made whimpering yummy noises just at the right time.  These moaning sounds came as the turning point of the television show climaxed. The boyfriend now thinks I'm deeply connected to the universe or something. I didn't corrrect him as I was still enjoying my gravy shrouded corn fritter. 

Saturday, February 4, 2017

Death on a Coaster

Remember that time I almost died on a rollercoaster? Okay, so you wouldn't remember because it's just a dream I have. A nightly, reoccurring dream. 

I have three phobias in this life. Roller coasters, snakes, clowns, and Republicans. Four. I have four phobias in this life. And number one is about to raise its night-terror inducing head. No. Not Trump, he's the worlds night-terror. 

In next week the Sweet Baboo and I head to Los Angeles for a vacation.  A very nerdy get-a-way. The main purpose is to attend a Doctor Who convention happening at a hotel close to the airport. Mike the roommate is joining us as well. But, before that we are spending a couple of days hanging out in West Hollywood, going to Disneyland, and most importantly, Harry Potter World. The    Sweet Baboo already has his magic wand at his side. But, there's a dark side to our adventure.  After all this time I'll finally have to come clean on my child-like terror of rollercoasters. Yes, we've been in parks and been around the death coasters before, but this time there is no escape. I feel bad. Going to Disneyland and then saying, "oh. Sorry, you'll have to ride, rides alone" seems like a mean thing to do. So, do I just face my terror quietly to make the boyfriend happy? Or finically admit that I'm a twelve year old girl? The non-brave kind. 

I'm gonna have to just face my fears, even if I would rather makeout with Trump, as he sports clown makeup and holds a snake. I wonder if there is some way I can get over my coaster phobia I six days? Only God can help me now. 


Saturday, January 28, 2017

Birthday


Remember that time that Oscar Pistorius wished me a happy birthday? Realizing he had to have me, he then murdered his girlfriend? Okay, I may have editorialized that last bit. 

But, he did wish me a happy birthday. Swoon. 





Friday, January 27, 2017

My Girlfriend

It started rather innocently, at first. Just small talk. It has grown since the first day, around the end of August. It was when I started to work just West of the city. My habits changed and I needed to find a new gym. Although I will always miss the gay gyms of the past; my first in Denver, then Dallas. A new gym is always, to me, starting a new chapter in my life.  

With the new gym, came a new path in leaving the new job and forcing my body to drive to the new gym. I’m sure it’s common, when you leave work you begin to tease yourself into just going home. You say “I can skip the gym today… I’ll work out extra hard tomorrow.” or, I’m really tired tonight, maybe I shouldn’t go..” or there’s always my favorite… I wonder if I can work out twice on Saturday, because I’m really hungry.” Meanwhile, the best thing to do is to not listen to these voices, the ones that want you to fail, and just drive. Just get into the car and drive. Because, nothing stops this voice of failure than walking into the gym. Your body is there anyway, you might as well just push some plates. 

In my worst days, I make a bargain in my stupid head. A full workout first, then fast-food. Nothing buys my loyalty like the promise of food. These are the days I turn to her.... It is cheating really, an affair of the heart. It started rather innocently, at first. Just small talk. But, since our first meeting I’ve been in love with a girl. Did I mention that I’ve been dating a girl. I know it can’t last, It shouldn’t last, I’m in a relationship already. Damn me and my polyamorous tendencies.

My baby-girls name is Destiny. I mean the name on her name tag is Beth, but she’s Destiny to me. We are truly and deeply in love.  The conversations were easy, about our hopes, dreams, and desires. I found it effortless to sit and chat. Me in my Jeep; Destiny in her window. It always ended with her giving me all she had to give. Exactly what I wanted and needed. A three piece chicken strips and a biscuit. Yesterday she was down, apparently she was being evicted from her house and had to find a place to crash. So goes the life of a KFC drive-up worker. It’s about once… maybe twice a week that I drive up to the window, usually around  5:15pmand the drive through is slow. This means we have a couple of minutes to chat. I’ve learned about her schooling. Well, her plans to go back. I’ve supported her in her dreams. We do that in our relationship. So it was a shock to see her so down. 

I need to break up with Destiny, I know. But, her chicken strips keep calling me back. 

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Run Stevie Run

It has been 19 days since signing up for the Big Gay 5K race being held on June 17th, 2017 as part of Denver's Pride celebrations.  This means that I have 148 days until I will be jumping from the starting line for this race. It will be my first every competitive race, and I am quite proud of the fact that at 45 years old, I will be completing (hopefully completing) a road race. The course of the "5K" seemed so exotic and professional until friends who run all the time explained that 5K is just 3.10686 miles. The course of this race leaves from Denver's Civic Center Park uphill through Capitol Hill, around Cheesman Park and back down the hill to Civic Center, so.... the end of the race literally is all down hill. Still, for me it 3.10 miles will be my 26-mile marathon.

You'll ask how I am preparing myself for this epic race to celebrate my 45 years on the planet?  Well, I have had pneumonia for the last couple of weeks... so no training yet. But there are 147 more days to get prepared. Step one; take the first steps and get running shoes on and take my first steps.




http://www.runguides.com/denver/event/big-gay-5k

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Small Town Boy

There comes a time when you realize that your youth, no matter how far back on the calendar, is officially ancient history. For me, it was when I received the news that Carrie Fisher had passed, but even closer to my heart, it was when I heard that Larry Steinbachek, keyboardist with pioneering synth-pop trio Bronski Beat, died at the age of 56.

Never heard of Bronski Beat? Yeah, it's truly a generational thing. Bronski Beat was a band starting in the 1980's British synthpop scene. Never heard of synthpop? Yeah. It was just one of the most distinctive subgenres of new wave. A sound heavily influenced by David Bowie.  During this generation, a trio achieved success with their distinctive sound and lead singer, particularly with the 1984 No. 3 in the UK chart hit "Smalltown Boy." They made a video for "Smalltown Boy" and it was late at night when a twelve-year-old me, watched it for the first time. It was a message in a bottle washing up on the shores of my deserted island.

All members of the group were openly gay, their songs reflected this. It was pop music with a commentary on gay-related issues. In a generation of subversive and double entendre messages, Bronski Beat was clear in message.

Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy
You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down
And as hard as they would try they'd hurt to make you cry
But you never cried to them, just to your soul
In 1984 I was twelve. I had already come to terms with being gay. What I could not comprehend, nor functionally comply with was how to operate on a rural ranch outside of a small town in the middle of nowhere. Within a dysfunctional family with Mormon ideal. I was failing to cope. Then, late at night, as I sat crying, the Bronski Beat video came on television.  It was a bolt from the blue. I could. I had to wait, but I would get out. I would have the life I wanted. The life I needed. Thank you Larry Steinbachek, rest in peace. You saved my life.






Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Death to Steve

Since the day after Christmas, I had been fighting a cold. But, since it was Christmas, then New Years, I ignored my body and added Dayquil to my choices of holiday refreshment. This is when the sharp pain in my chest added a delightful appearance every time I began to cough. Still, I was too busy showing off my new Burberry coat I received for Christmas to take care of my lungs. This was until last Friday when an intervention was staged. Well, the intervention from my closest friends was staged because I started a fun new quirk where I would cough so strongly it would pull all the air from my lungs, causing none to reach my brain. This initiated a trick, of me blacking out. Yes, I would cough until I blacked out. Driving was fun. 
I was kindly asked to seek medical attention. By this I mean; my Kaiser card was ripped from my wallet and an appointment was made for me. After all the tests and a dramatic scene of me blacking out on the exam table, It was diagnosed; Pneumonia. Yay! I spent three days at home, unable to drive as I had promised not to kill myself. I simply just let the drugs work, and healing began. In this un-plugged state, I am reminded how I run non-stop. All the time. On a typical day off, I’m up and out of the house as soon as possible. This is followed by days filled with activities and adventures. So, when I was forced to stay home and rest, I quickly found the lack of movement strange. 
I did practice my video gaming skills, I’m sure you are wondering how that’s going. Well; I can now fire a weapon and move at the same time. So, I can add that to my resume.  I had to stop myself from re-organizing closets or the kitchen. As I was ordered to not “exert myself.” And, the Sweet Baboo and the roommate cooked all the meals. It was a strange couple of days. Breakfast at home, followed by just quality time hangout with my little wonderful family. 
By Sunday night I found that I was sad about going back to work on Monday. The cocoon was beginning to make me happy. These feelings were based on the fact that I so enjoyed being around my people. It wasn’t the physical home (spending time at home, doing home-stuff) it was the great people I had around me caring for me.  

Thursday, January 5, 2017

I Am Not One With the Force

I have never played a video game. Not Really. 

I know, it seems strange, even to me in this day and age. I had played around with a game back in the 90’s, with Jamie the bestie. But I have never had a gaming system in the house. I have a strange addictive personality, where if I involve myself in something is becomes all-consuming.  This is why I’ve never watch a single second of the television show, Glee. I know I would have quickly devolve into the biggest Gleeck, or Glick. I don’t have time to become obsessed with musicals again… I mean, Betty Buckley still has a Restraining Order out on my ass. 
I can tell you the beginning storyline, and ending story line for every character on Dynasty, Doctor Who, Dallas, and a dozen other shows before I identified my obsessive condition. With the amount of characters in Game of Thrones, I believe I couldn’t spare the brain space.  So, spending free-time on video games, while I should be writing scathing essays on Shirley Chisolm for school, would be a catastrophe. 
Then we got an Xbox for Christmas. 
Can I tell you how embarrassing it is to be forty-five and not able to operate a controller? So, under the pretext of defending my honor, I have begun to “practice” my craft. A remote and icy planet in a remote star system known to locals as Hoth, is my training ground. Star Wars, Echo Base is where I will unleash my Jedi Powers.  I have embraced the Dark Side. This means I can walk around and slash Rebel scum with my red Lightsaber. Really it’s because I can’t aim and shoot a blaster. Yet. I tried, but after having Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, die seventeen times because of my incompetence in shooting her blaster, I switched to the Lightsaber.  Too soon, Leia, too soon. 
I hope to one day be a gamer. When school isn't in session. Right now, I’m a pushing middle-age gay gamer Wannabe.

Sunday, January 1, 2017

2017

Well hello there. Welcome to 2017. 

Since I started blogging in 2007, I have done a lot of New Year Resolutions posts. This meant I listed things I was to fix about myself the adjacent year. This was all good and fine, and most of the time it worked. This was because they were published for me to review throughout the year.  Today; I have realized that starting a new year really is a great time for this. But, also It's a great time to stop and listen to the lessons learned the previous year.  

I learned in 2016, to just go hiking. Don't wait for others to join in on an activity I love. I stopped waiting for others to acknowledge the things I love to do. I don't need the approval of others to enjoy any activity. I strap on my hiking boots a get on a mountain trail.  So I guess I've stopped being afraid of being alone.  

Speaking of friends. In 2016 I finially learned what being a friend really is. It's not history, it's not statements about friendship; it's actions taken every day. No demands of proving whether you're worthy by sending to proper given amount of text messages. Friendship is organic, a concept that can't mean calculated. Only measured by phone calls for no reason and invites and silly adventures. 

I realized in 2016 that my work life sets a standard for everything else. Don't stay in  a job that makes me unhappy. I encountered the world's worst boss in 2016, and felt there wasn't other options. There was. There are always other options. You just have to uncover them. This advice hold true for the previous statements. There's always other options. In healthy friends and better hiking trails. 

So do I have resolutions for 2017? Kinda. Yesterday I signed up to run a 5K in June. It has always been a dream of mine to run a road race. This year I will do it. Dear God, help me. I better start training, June isn't that far off in regard to me waddling my way through a organized running competition. Step one. Clear out the bad stuff in my kitchen and strap-on some running shoes. 

Come on 2017, you are full of options. Let's go choose the best ones.