Boxes of Books

A couple of months ago I discovered I had a second bedroom...

After living in my house for a year I stopped by the open door of my second bedroom in my two-bedroom home and gazed upon my un-packed boxes of books. A new thought just naturally appeared in my head. It was time they saw the light again assembled on the bookcases. In 2019 my books were sealed away in highly-taped moving boxes, and shipped across the fair city of Denver.  These boxes were left scattered about this forgotten room in front of  empty bookcases and unassembled desk parts. The boxes sat were the movers left them at the start of that year.

The door was left ajar as the days blurred into weeks blending into months. It was a year of ordering the electronic textbook version of school books. A year of not reading for pleasure as the quiet downtime was too much to handle in the quite house. Solitary confinement for the books and the reader. Instead there was take-a-way in front of the TV as distraction entertainment filled the place of books.

Then it happened; I walked into my second bedroom and began to fill up the shelves. I assembled my desk, pushed up my chair, and began to read again. It is nice to be back. 

Hair Cuts of the Nazi Youth

Since the beginning of the pandemic I have been cutting my own hair. It has been a terrifying process, let me tell you.

Now, I am not a stranger to cutting my own hair. In the era beginning after posing for gay porn "photographers" and before being able to quit my second gay waiter jobs I did buzz my own hair. But that was just a study in Mohawks and flattops. This was followed by the timespan the gay community knows as the Caesar and Faux hawk generation. The late 90's was a non-stop cornucopia of pointy-pointy hairdos.

In 2020's shutdown, the need to cut my hair is dictated by my skill. Or lack of skill. It means my hair gets trimmed on the sides and blended to a longer top with a side-part. I can not go too tight on the sides as my hair can go directly into a style known as the "Hitler" and its begat tiki-torch scuzzzbag bastard goblins.  Side part combovers can move right into Nazi youth if not done correctly.  So longer and blending has me standing naked in the bathroom mirror for a minimum of two hours. Although I do get to listen to the collective works of Kate Bush on repeat four times, I don't get to listen to a paid hairstylist ramble on about finally moving out to the West Coast.

The experience is growing on me. Literally. 

School's Out

The semester of school is finally done. School's out for summer!

This last semester was a strange one, even though the classes were online; once the pandemic hit both of my professors, for the two separate classes, melted down and gave up. As the majority of their other classes were in person, switching over to online learning took most of their time. One also had to start home-schooling his 3rd grader and spent what would be the remainder of the semester talking about how hard 3rd grade math can be. The lessons in ancient rituals of Ireland faded away and all the assignments at the beginning of the semester stood in for the majority of the grade. For me, this was great as I actually cared at the beginning of the class, not so my towards the end.

The class was on Irish history, and I was really taking it to learn about the monastic era. This era being one of retrieving ancient works of great Greek/Roman thinkers, and transcribing them into modern language. To see how Socrates came to us in modern tongue. Once the class moved passed the era of the monasteries, I just kept getting mad over and over reading about the generational fight for freedom against the jerkish British. Gurl! eat a Snickers, you get all Colonialist when you are hungry.

So the strange semester is over. And next semester, in the Fall of 2020 surely will not be plagued by the... plague. It will be my "senior project" semester to finish my history degree. So yay. Other than the fact that I have run out of student loan money and have no idea how I am going to pay for it. Maybe Betty Devos with get the virus. We can only hope. 

Pandemic

Hey there; how's your pandemic going?

Mine is just fine. As an essential worker, I am guaranteed to not miss out of experiencing every bit of oddness this society has to offer during this strange time. My deep hatred of bars and clubs has turned into a positive. The city shutting down major avenues so walkers can social distance means walking adventures are more fun. I am actually having a decent pandemic.  Well, other than the gym. The gym closing down have not done me well.

Since I never did any cardio, and only lifted weights, not having the access to free weights was a shock to my system. I started to cry when I grabbed the handle to the gym's front door to find it locked. This meant that I would have to do.... home workout stuff... just imagine.  I first bought the typical dude-bro equipment. A pull-up bar for my office doorway, a fit ball to bounce around on, and new running shoes. Or, waddling shoes. Although I have warmed up to being the "workout outdoors type" wearing manly lycra leggings at all times now, the pull-ups are not ever going to by my favorite. Every time I reach the top of the stroke, my chin touching right below the frame of my well-appointed office, I see the a cartoon in my head from my childhood is stars an elephant. The elephant is attempting to pull his massive girth up a cliff. I am that elephant. Large, wrinkly, and grey.

I NEED the gyms to reopen.

I need to do arm curls using iron plates, not rubber bands. I need to rush out of work to go somewhere other than home. I find it strange to just leave work and go to my house. That's weird. But, at least I am non-dead. If you call not seeing your arm veins pop living.