I hate Facebook

I can't sleep. I fell a sleep for an hour then woke up again. It must be the Jetlag. Damn you time difference! 

So what does one do in the dark, under the covers, with a laptop idling beside you just begging to be touched... Well... You surf Facebook, that's what you do. And after an hour of looking at friend updates, bouncing onto interesting articles, watching a few novel video clips... you start reading profiles. Profiles in Full. Family's profiles, friends' profiles, your lover's profile. In full. 

It' always gets to me, reading your profile. I read along and continue to scroll and before I notice it, a significant amount of time has passed, and I've looked 2 years more than I should have. Damn. You are intense, and you say it. Nay, you proclaim it for all the world to see. He must have felt on top of the world (I know the feeling :P). 

And now with all recent strings of inconsistencies and claim extreme insensitivities, what am supposed to think? I saw the photos; my mind plays its tricks. How am I supposed to feel? Do I blindly follow, like a naive, suicide-able, cult followers? Do I rely solely on trust - unsubstantiated, but fully understanding? Maybe. Possibly. I know I do it, but it won't be the easiest barrel to carry.

Instead, I'll do what I do best: I over-think - for the better. I rationalize. I dissect the facts to extract a highly possible outcome that bodes for the better. One where the holes are logically explained and the lapses in judgment have viable, grant ill-felt, intention. This helps me sleep at night.

It really is intensely scary what I've gotten myself into. I try to ignore it. But on lonely, dark, silent, sleepless nights like this - curiosity gets the better of me. Man, I should have learned from the cat! I'll learn eventually. It always means trouble. Then again, I always prefer to know - regardless of the outcome.

To make myself feel better, you know  what I did? I read all the things you wrote or implied about me! :D I read them twice over. It made me smile. It quelled the insecurities a bit. Oh, there you go. I just read them again. :)

Fuck. I need to get over this eventually.  

But there's no turning back now. I'm in too deep, and I would take the pain masochist-style - because I know I need to give this one every single thing that I've got. 

I just wish, eventually, you'll have more sappy, love-dribbling facebook posts about me and adorable, cheese-filled photos with me. :)

The Pangs of LDR

Sunday June 10, 12

6:39pm

It’s mid-afternoon and I still feel hungover. My stomach churns from the destruction alcohol has left in it’s path from last night’s debauchery. Even after having brunch with the bros, 2 cups of coffee, and 3 bottles of isotonic water, I still feel 2 notches below sea level. Sigh. Maybe I’ll take a nap later… it is a Sunday after all.

Last night was fun though – a respite from the complexities of reality. Gays do that well. Escape. We are pros at it.  We have mastered the French exit, the caveman-ing, the closeting, and the extravagant closet exeunt. That was what last night for me: a, largely failed, attempt to escape from baggage I carry with me. Still, the blaring music, the erratic disco lights, the lustful stares makes one feel invincible. Well, maybe not. But at the very least, it makes one feel attractive… wanted… worthy.

I guess that’s what I was looking for – to feel worthy. It just dawned on me today how worthless I was feeling. Work is seriously kicking my ass, and the relationship hasn’t really been smooth sailing as of current… I can’t really do much about the work, but the relationship… is it supposed to be this hard? Perhaps, as things that come easily usually aren’t worth it. Still, the attention from last night was indeed welcome, even if it all was superfluously superficial and from arms length.

Truth be told… This long distance relationship is getting to me – Long Distance being the operative words that are causing rain to fall… The unintentional slips, the circumstantial blips, the rationalized and very valid excused – it’s all getting to me. I knew it would be tough, this long distance business, and I told myself I could handle it. “Piece of cake”, I said.  “Just another walk in the park”. I don’t know if it was arrogance, overestimation, or me trying to convince myself… But it actually is really, really hard.

Truth be told… The distance takes a toll of the both of you. Time together is a luxury, so you do what you can to compensate… You call and email and chat and skype and BBM… but is it enough? Can you really grow together when you’re physically apart? Or am I just kidding myself? Maybe. Call me emotionally high maintenance, but the robotic regurgitations of each other’s days seem mundane and insignificant. The automatic exchanges of “I miss yous” and “I love yous” are just that – automatic – semi-scripted dialog that both have been accustomed to though it may be closer to half than full truth.

Truth be told… I don’t think this not enough. With Long Distance Relationships, you have to work doubly as hard. Unlike in conventional relationships, with LDRs growing apart is an inevitability. And unless, both of you consciously and continuously work against the pangs of emotional segregating, it is sure to happen…

So what do you do… At least what do I do… I try to do two things.

1. I try to create as many moments as possible. Moment when you can both grow together. This is easier done in person. So I try to see him as often as financially and professionally possible. To experience those moments, to be in the presence of each other and crawl under each other’s skin and comfortably nuzzle there for some time… And while not impossible to do remotely, it is extremely hard to create moments when physically apart. But you try anyways. And when moments do happen, it feels magical. You just know.

The problem is sometimes the moments feel contrived – the emotional equivalent of microwave dinners – chock full of imitations of what the real thing should be and ultimately really bad for you. But what do you do? You’re hungry so you take it anyway. You try to convince yourself that, mmmm, it was great and that you’re satisfied. The sad thing is deep down you know the truth… the truth that really you just needed to fill a void and that this is the next best thing. All while ignoring the uncomfortable aftertaste it leaves.

2. I minimize the growing apart, at least on my part. Really, I minimize my growing altogether. Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe I’m going about it all the wrong way. But it all makes sense in my head. I will wait to grow until we are together.  I will wait to experience things. I will wait for him.

The problem is… Well there are a lot of problems with this. I limit my growth – which is pathetic and unhealthy. And I don’t want to impose the stoppage from him because it would be unfair. The thing is, when he does grow… when he experiences life without me, deep down I am jealous. Resentful. Jealous that it not me he his with as he experiences these things and Resentful because he didn’t wait for me.  It’s crazy I know. I’m pretty fucked up. Such a needy little douchebag.

But there in lies the perplexing challenge that is a long distance relationship. If there aren’t enough moments; if they are too few and too far in between, you will grow apart. If one of you doesn’t waits; if either continues to grow, you will grow apart. This doesn’t even include external factors… prior social, familial, and professional responsibilities; erstwhile comparisons to the past; unorthodox fruits of the slither… 

And it feels like it’s all being fought on the thinnest trapeze of battlefield. How does one fight this uphill tightrope battle? One wrong move and you fall off. One miscalculated balance and you falter. How do I stay on? I wasn’t prepared for this. Lord give me faith.   

I will be your witness

I will be your witness.
As we may be dust in this vast universe, I will be proof that you existed.
And you were loved.
AMM

 


I will be your witness.
As the stars aligned and the universe conspired…Our eternity was nothing less than inevitable.
You were more than loved. You were proudly celebrated.
JPIR

Pit Stopping

April 18, 2012
6pm on a Wednesday
In the office. Second Shift starts now.

You know those days where you have a billion things to do… and you fight and you slog and work your ass off. You do the work and you work hard and put in the blood and sweat and tears (dramatic much?). But still the list of things to do doesn’t get shorter, and the amount of work continues to pile up. Sigh. It’s one of those days.

Don’t get me wrong, today’s not a bad day. It’s an ok day. Nothing terrible happened. Actually a few good things happened. J My brand is number 2 in the market – a first EVER! Opportunities are abound, whether I’m ready and equipped to take on the challenges are a different question. But the windows are there and I can smell the beginnings of tomorrow’s sweet fruits from today’s labors.

But fuck man… this shit is tiring. fulfilling and exciting. But damn fucking exhausting. Sigh. They said it wouldn’t be easy. They said it would be hard and they were right. It makes my brain tired.

I do have one very big, very tall consolation though… all 6 feet of him. The thought of him eases so much tension in me. My mind relaxes a bit. Perspective comes into play and the foggy horizon clears up a little. The thought of him calms me. The thought of him makes me less scared.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m still scared. Hahaha. Not so shitlessly anymore, but still pretty terrified. None of it is perfect. It’s still messy, and the grey areas are still there – granted much less so now than 4 months ago. There are some insecurities, inconsistencies and derivations that need to be address from all sides. The future isn’t exactly crystal clear. So I guess the fear is healthy and justified.

Maybe I’m amazed at the way he loves me all the time.

Maybe I’m afraid of the way I really love him.  

Maybe I’m amazed at how he pulled me out of time, hung me on the line.

Maybe I’m afraid of how I really need him

And when I listen to this song and think of him… I smile.

From here to the moon and back. MFEO.

Originality is Appreciated

Mulling over the future after rummaging through the past
March 13, 2012
11:32am


My brother chuck is a photographer. A pretty damn good one, if I may say so myself. A real keen eye; a strong, confident voice; a knack for poetic musing visually expressed with utmost candor and character - a true artist. The other day, as we critiqued the works of others, he said to me, "Nothing is original anymore. Everything you see now is copied from somewhere else, reflective of something else, inspired by someone else... A new take on Hockney, antithesis to Richardson, inspired Van Assche - it seems like true originality is rarely ever achieved anymore.""Such a sad way to look at the world," I thought to myself. While the may be true with the arts, let's hope it is not the case for life.

I've gone through all of it - I've read all the expressions of joy and longing; painfully scrutinized each photo; flipped through each day, month, year... And it truly pains me to realize that chuck seems to be right. As I look around and compare then from now, I see messages that are almost identical, exact words conveniently regurgitated, promises broken and promised again. Over and over again. Repeated without license, most blatantly plagiarized. Over and over again.

How telling...

So here I am urging and asking: Show some class; give it a little originality. Throw in a few choice words of your own. Please stop passing off current ideas as novel, when a simple search online easily reveals the derivative truth. Don't just thoughtlessly recycle old smooth moves and notions.

Instead, do things for the first time without the shadow of the past looming over like Ebenezer's own ghosts. Experience new places, do new things, express new ideas. Don't just repeat the past. Live reborn. Live anew - without the slick calculated moves that are already mastered and seemingly contrived.

Most importantly, make brand new promises; this time, make sure to keep them.

Crazy.Stupid.Love

12:29am

When you find your soul mate… you just don’t give up…

What a great movie. Funny and witty and insanely poignant for the hopeless romantics. As I floundered through this Sunday night DVD, I couldn’t help but chuckle and smile with giddy joy. It gave you all the those tender fluttering butterflies that great romcoms are inclined to do.

I don’t know if I believe in soul mates… the notion that there is just one person in the world for you. I guess the jury’s still out on that one. I don’t even know if I’ve met my soulmate… You know what I mean, one of those magical movie moments where you JUST know… you see each other across a crowded room, the light takes on this slightly more radiant warmth and a cheesy 80s love song comes on in your head – maybe something from Dirty Dancing or Breakfast Club. Yup, nope, I haven’t had one of those.

I imagine if I did have a soul mate, he would be wildly sexy – but he wouldn’t really know it. Maybe a nerdy jock. Smart, but not condescending. Confident but not cocky. A lover of some form of the arts. He can’t be poor (come on, now). He doesn’t have to be ridiculously well off, but he has to be ridiculously well bred – someone I would be proud to introduce to my brothers and sister. Someone who treats his mom right, because that's the way I treat my mom and there's no other way to do it. Driven at work and in life… Someone with a purpose, a place to go or someone to be – a fire in his eyes and a hunger in his soul. Above all, he’s got to be almost absurdly nice and madly in love with me.

Wishful thinking… Maybe… But I guess you already know that I’m not gonna give up on finding him… or him finding me. And as I sit here listening to a million love songs, I shall leave you with one of my favorites… a tribute to the blissfully naïve. A lullaby for those who are never bitter and always hopeful. A personal prayer that I will never lose that innocent longing and one day find my soul mate.

Because whether we are 13 or 30, you don’t give up on your soul mate. And as we strut around town pretending to be the cool cat Jacob Palmers of the world, all we really just want to have exactly what Cal Weaver has – Timeless, teeming, true love. Good night world…