A Lonely Home

The house is lonely without anyone else here. I don't mind the silence and I know I have to be brave while I'm alone. I can be brave, I know that much is true.

Today they took 10 vials of my blood. My arm hurts and soon the Mark of Cain will return. Don't worry, I will just tell people I am back doing heroin again. No one will suspect.

My grandmother always says, "Things will work out in the end." She is from a generation that has worked through life and in her 70s can say it and rightfully believe it. I can't wait to get to that day where I can say, "This will work out in the end. They did for me."

Why Do The Wrong People Travel? – An Essay of the Soul

This weekend has been an odd one. It's been filled with white lies and little stresses that have left me feeling tired and overwhelmed. I feel pulled in all different directions and wish to be pulled in simply one direction at a time.

The support group has brought an interesting cast of characters into my life, but sometimes I'm left wondering: Where did the original cast go? I used to have people who I saw on a daily basis, but not these days. It seems they recast my life while I was not looking.

I had a social panic this weekend. I was asked to do so many things and in my Cancerous way I retreated into my shell. I feel bad for my lack of interest in certain events and I feel even worse for my inability to care for people's emotions.

I see the telltale signs of my karma coming back at me. I needed to comfort a dear and close friend, more than I needed to make new ones. That's my reasoning and I will stick to it until the day I die. In return the ShyGuy has blown me off for dinner once and I'm only waiting until April 1st, when I will break apart completely.

This weekend has been a reminder of how I need to be careful with my emotions. I am a delightful person to be around, this much is true, but if you try and force me into a corner. I swear I will scratch and lie until people back off.

In the coming months I will be expected to perform all sorts of fantastic feats and without my roommate by my side. Instead, I will have a stranger living under my roof and I am wary. I will welcome him into the apartment with open arms, but he already has his own agenda. So I may just be a bookmark in his life.

I have two more group sessions left. Which is slightly terrifying. Soon there will be no more Monday night commitments. Hopefully it will be replaced with a job. Hopefully.

Sadness in the Form of a Day

I have been spending the night with the ShyGuy, yes, I'm braking my usual rules. We haven't "slept" together because he has a nice potpourri of issues that get in the way. I really know how to pick them. He's on a bevy of medications that stop his already silent personality. In turn, sleeping next to him turns more into a question of, "Why am I not in my own bed right now?"

I enjoy him, but underneath the shyness there is something missing. I put myself into this position and will give it some more time. We're not dating, I don't think we are. I know that I would rather be away from him right now, not necessarily near him. Once again, I accept that that I put myself into this situation.

The group of friends I am creating through my support group is nice. They wanted to try out for softball tomorrow, then things got difficult. I can't afford the $100 fee and I don't own a mitt. I feel like a quitter, but just these are circumstances outside of my control.

My insomnia has returned, so I feel as if something has brought it about. I've run out of Ambien and like Judy Garland I am going through the shakes. Today I woke up feeling like I'd been through an all night bender. My headached and I slept until noon. Thus today has been so off. Oh so off.

My roommate leaves for two months on the 30th. I know she's returning, but I feel so stoic. She gets to go on a fun and wild adventure and I sit at home. Always at home. I'm happy for her though and it will be great for her to see the world. I have always wanted to see the world, I'll get my chance again someday.

All these complaints. I know there are good things. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will not go to softball practice or ShyGuy's rugby game. Tomorrow I shall try reclaiming myself. I am going to be selfish, I do love these new friends and all they want to do, but I can't do it right now. I just cannot.

It took me a Year and a half to get over Rufus's Judy Garland Concert

How long will this take to settle? I suppose until I see she actually does it well. . .

http://www.playbill.com/news/article/127608.html

I have been ranting and raving to my roommate for the last hour. It's gonna take time. I'm not wholly against it, but I am very wary!

My roommates facebook status is:

wishes there was a camera crew in her apartment to capture her roommate's gay outrage at Anne Hathaway being cast in the Judy Garland biopic. Hilarity, people.

Interesting Observances

I am well. The day has been survived and I can tell the tale. In fact it was not all that bad. I told my Oma to hush when she brought up my future and jobs. She silenced and wondered why we should not continue discussing my impending future.

"Because of my anxiety, Oma. You know this cause your husband worries about everything. My mother worries about everything as well. Most importantly, I worry about everything. I don't want to discuss it!"

It was taken in the most polite of ways. Then my mother got her turn to tell my Oma, "Iguana wants to live in the city. It's what he's decided." Hearing direct quotes that my father told me, so I wondered how sincere it is. How much of her heart am I breaking?

It was a quick trip, less than 6 hours of visitation time. There's no time to discuss anything, it's more like a passing memory. There was no confrontation about my homosexuality. I even brought her to Christopher St where all the homos live. I was merely setting the mood. My mother got red when we walked by a sex shop. Funny, I could feel her tension because of the tension I was creating. I could feel my Oma, blindly taking everything in. She sees nothing, but remembers everything. It's a talent I could have inheirted from no one other than.

Oh these days. I sent them on their way and I continue on with the progression. My mother was thrilled that I emailed her several times. She wants me to forever have something to say. I don't have anything to say mom. When I find out, you will be first to know. I think.

My Funny Bone. . .

My friend is currently living the life of a Noel Coward farce. It's being written as I sit and watch. He pointed out that in my main group of friends, we all possess different traits of farcical characters. It doesn't surprise me, we're all theatrical people. We possess those traits that make people question the stereotypes. I'm a fag, but I'm a fag with style.

A not so close friend called me cause he is having an HIV scare. I canceled the play I need to see for class so I can comfort this boy. Who I really don't know that well. I just can't deny him comfort when he's having that kind of scare. I may be a fag, but I'm a fag with humanity.

Tomorrow, my mother and Oma are visiting me. This is historical, I've been here five years and my Jehovah's Witness grandmother hasn't come down once. It'll be three generations of Tennessee William's character sitting around and ignoring reality! My Oma asked my mother if I was gay. My dad thinks she is coming down to confront me. Interesting, no?

Then there's my mother. The matriarch herself. She who rules with a silent but emotional claw. I love her, but fear her awesome strength. She who taught me that it's the little things that can worry you so. Never shall I sleep soundly again.

Then there is moi and we already know so much about me. I shall sit there and order something with a kick to it! I'll flash a smile and wait for her to accuse me of being a sissy! I'll remain civil no matter what happens.

Oh, these days! These days! I am well, for there's nothing to worry about. That's the hitch in this design. I get a free dinner tomorrow.

It's Unfortunate. . .

A sad loss. Since I'm super close with Vanessa Redgrave and all that. Seriously though, I enjoy her very much.

Group Session: The 12 Days of Judy

Group was more calm last night. It was a slightly progressive night for life outside the group. I fear I was the catalyst. If I'd never worn those skinny jeans on Saturday and not felt so damned powerful in them! I would've never hung out with The Prince, who is a guy my age who has a rich older boyfriend.

His boyfriend apparently is ridiculously rich and owns buildings, helicopters and Egyptian Cats! He is kept in an ivory tower. He lives a dream life that I can't help envy and I feel such sadness for. I wanted to go out and he was the first one to answer my text. If I'd never gone out, he would have never invited me to dinner before group and we'd never have had that screwdriver!

How do I break these rules? One screwdriver to me is a calming way into social situations, despite the rule of not being on any substances that can mess up your judgement, or some crap like that [Rules wouldn't be made unless they wanted us to break them]. Well, The Prince has one screwdriver and is singing show tunes and hitting high C sharps! In turn by the end of group he invited everyone out to get more drinks. Do you see where this story is going? No, well just hang on for a moment longer.

The ShyGuy ran away. The Vespa-Rider peaced out quickly too. Leaving me to get to know newer personalities, in a friendly atmosphere. At one point during the night I was talking to a guy who said that the bar he was working at was hiring bar backs [not bareback] for the summer. I may have my in, which means the universe works in weird ways. You put out what you get back. I don't know, time shall tell. Maybe, I don't need a suit just yet.

The highlight of the night was when another soft spoken member brought up how Judy Garland was his patron saint. I quickly showed him my mark of Judy. He then told me of his 12 Days of Judy celebration! Since Judy was born on June 10th and died on June 22nd. There's twelve days to celebrate her existence!

Her story is similar to that of the Christ figure. She was born Francis Gumm and was reborn into Judy Garland. She died prematurely and will rise again. It's adorably cute, this idea the man created. I am glad that these two things have happened, as silly as they are.

Skinny Jeans

You need to buy a suit for interviews. You don't own a suit?

No, I don't, I just purchased my first pair of skinny jeans this week. No one in my life has died or gotten married. I suppose I was raised business casual my entire life. The idea of owning a suit terrifies me, spending $600 dollars of this money I don't have. How does that happen? How can that happen?

I'm down to my last Ambien. The second to last is currently working its magic in my body. Prepare yourself from the insomnia to return in full force. I've been working on improving it. I still have melatonin, but that leaves me feeling so groggy in the mornings.

I have been reading about Stephen Sondheim non-stop this week. A biography on his life and his art. For the paper I plan to write for my 20th Century Theater Class. I have found a new Sondheim song, one that I've know existed for years, but ignored cause it wasn't big and flashy. Anyone Can Whistle though speaks to me terribly. So terribly.

What's hard is simple,
What's natural comes hard.
Maybe you could show me
How to let go, lower my guard, learn to be . . .
free.

I lack social graces that allows for this song to ring true. This week coming will be filled with midterms and wondering what is going to happen with my life. I guess I need to work on buying that suit. For without a suit, it seems you'll never get anywhere in the world.

I know the suggestion was to help, but it was said as if there was a balanced idea behind it. A rule that everyone knew, besides me. I know the good intentions that were behind it as well. Oh I do.

I feel off these days. As if I am existing just to be erased from memories. I can't seem to connect with people on levels that I wish I could connect with them on. I feel this longing to be loved and supported, but constantly encounter roadblocks. Each week goes by and draws closer to impending graduation.

Oddly enough, I feel these months may hold some change for better or worse. Against all will, the hands of fate will carry out their vile plans. I can try to deter the immediately consequences, but the gears that are turning, have been turning for far to long.

I was speaking with The Escort who is moving to CT into his John's house to live rent free and do school work. He also fixes the house and such. He'll be in the city taking classes, but I told him that I know so many homos our age who are leaving. He corrected me and told me he wasn't leaving.

IGUANA: Not all of us have a house in CT we can move into that is rent free.
ESCORT: You have your parent's house, don't you?

Now I was caught off guard with the notion that my parents are existentially my John. That a man who used to fuck this guy is graciously helping his life by letting him move into his house in CT and live for free. While if I moved home to upstate NY. I would not only be forced to get a job, I would have to pay rent for my room and I would ultimately throw myself in front of a truck!

That's the Ambien talking, I think.

No, my prostituted little friend. Our lives are not under the same category. It's fun to pretend, but they will never been.

Perhaps. . .

I called my old job today and left a message with my boss. I asked if she could let me work for her. I'm swallowing my pride, but I'd rather have a job than be poor.

Perhaps she'll tell me "Welcome back." Perhaps. Perhaps snowflakes will taste like sugar and perhaps pigs will tell the future. Perhaps. At least I asked.

I feel so useless. With morning classes I can't work anywhere. With a weekend class I can't really work weekends. I'm the most unappetizing candidate for work right now. It's really depressing me. I am biting my tongue for every person who's biggest upset is the new facebook makeover. Really?

I cleaned the entire apartment today, because when I have nothing to do, I still do things. I wish I could be lazy, but I just keep moving. I feel so strange right now. I have been looking for jobs, which was about as useful as nailing my hand into the floor.

It's not all my fault, there is a recession going on. I wish I were more interesting right now, unfortunately I'm not.

Perhaps I'll become more interesting someday later. Perhaps. . .

Group Catharsis

I went to group on Monday with no intentions of sharing. I wanted to just listen and be "unemotional" for one session. I enjoy the support group, but I don't know if I'll sign up again for another session. I have a problem with being open and just saying things.

I am to self-conscious to just say, "I thought about killing myself this week." As someone did tonight and in saying that I almost burst into tears. I had to hold on as I watched two guys in group cry and ponder what their futures will hold. The younger side of the group that is my age, we all related to him. We all have thoughts about killing ourselves. We all shared that. The older side of the group sat and listened, almost indifferently at times.

To be HIV positive and young, it destroys your outlook on the future. Where you once saw endless possibilities, you now only see fuzzy goals. Promises made to yourself are broken and choices that seemed obvious are not anywhere near as logical.

I watched as this guy talked about how he didn't feel motivated and that he wasn't the same anymore. He hated this body he now lived in. I felt an endless agreement and it terrified me. However, there was a calmness that came from it too. Once again I was no longer the only one who felt this. I was not crazy and these thoughts and emotions could be shared with others. In a perverted way, I felt calmed by this discovery.

Then the next kid began to discuss how his mother always ends their telephone conversations with, "Be healthy." This destroyed him because he believes that he has failed this simple request. He too began to weep. I sat there blinking my tears and not calling attention to them. The pathos I got from their confessions was enough for me to know that, I too, have these issues.

It was such an intense group for having not admitted anything directly. I felt exhausted and wanted to do nothing but go home. Unfortunately, I got talked into getting dinner with a couple of the older guys from group.

Perhaps it is cause they are both "emotionless" in general. Or that they couldn't relate, but at dinner they both agreed that they were so bored with group tonight. I know that we all have different ways of coping, but that shocked me. I was not necessarily upset with them, but the fact there was not empathy for the two guy's sadness. This confession exhausted my soul even more.

Group Blues

I went to group last night with no expectations. Until it happened. I want to write more, but I've been thinking about it all and what happened. It wasn't even my issues, but feelings I shared. It's all confusing a little bit. I will articulate it more tomorrow. For sure.

Cover All The Mirrors

The movie is through [If they had been paying me, I'd be sad]. I'm jobless [but looking]. I'm losing my health insurance [but trying to find a new one]. I am having problems with filing graduation [but speaking to the powers that be so I will graduate]. I am running out of Ambien [but that may be a good thing]. I did my taxes and owe $705 between Fed and State [but I'm not filing them until I know my way out of that one].

Basically I know what my list of things to do is. I just need to stay motivated and positive to do them.

I want a hug, a long hard hug that's filled with care and concern. That's all I ask for.

A Weekend in My Mind

What do you want? That's the question on my mind for this last week. It's caused a lack of sleep. My roommate had a moment where she told me "what it's all about." I do agree with most of what she said. Though no one necessarily likes to hear that they are manipulating situations, but I was.

I suppose that if I invite someone over for dinner at 9 PM at night. That is basically a spider inviting a fly into his parlor. I cannot be surprised that they think I want to date them. I feel like a grand seducer and an emotional leech. I don't necessarily mean to lead anyone on, which I have been doing. She concludes [as all good doctors do] that I need to figure out what I want.

I've been trying to figure it out. I think I want to date, but I did make that vow to God and a Starbucks Barrista that I would not have sex with anyone in this group until it was through. Yet, I have been eyeing some and doing the acts described above. What's awful about it is I do it so ambiguously and without conviction. I do want to become friends with people, but to do it with gay men seems to always have the issue of sexual attraction.

Probably because we become friends with people we are initally attracted to. I am trying to improve my ambigious sexuality. It's got to be addressed sometime, but the thing is if you're attracted to that person [and in return he is attracted to you] than you obviously will not address the issue until after infidelities are committed.

So I am thinking on this issue. If I believe in having a boyfriend then I will get one? I don't know if I'll necessarily buy that. I suppose there's no harm in trying. So I guess we'll get that out of the way.

In my life I haven't always been clear on what I wanted. In fact I don't think there has been clarity for several years now. I wish I was cemented in ideas and less confusion. I am flighty and absentmindedly open. I've grown tired of thinking about this issue.

Making Up My Mind

I'm taking the advice and perspective of others in stride. I ultimately will make my own decisions and I agree you're right. The test of my Willpower is my greatest test.

I am taking these new few days to figure out what I want. I know I am indecisive, but I am paying attention since you pointed it out. I have gone four years without this kind of guidance.

I'm always questioning. Always thinking these issues through. So I take the opinions of others and will mold them so they fit. I am a sneaky person, and I'm trying to be honest and upfront. I am manipulative. A spider with a web.

Oh well, I think I have this situation underhand. If I don't react than what is there to worry about? I am trying! Know that much!

As if From a Coma

I pushed off my glass coffin lid and found myself in the middle of the woods, surrounded by dozens of little furry animals. As my vision ceases to blur I realize they're just Mexicans.

I fell into a snowstorm slump. I woke and then quickly ran back to bed. I don't know if it was the bad weather or my sudden lack of willpower that did it. It terrifies me at how easy one can get depressed and do nothing all day. I did nothing all day. I skipped class and group. I did see Coraline, but only after waking up 40 minutes prior to that.

Monday's are not my strongest day. Actually they sicken me. So when a Nor'Easter blows through and causes issues. I suppose it's not abnormal of me to head for bed. Seasonally this is an "off" day.

I guess today is where I pick up where I left off. I guess this is indeed the place to do that. There is three months left of all this stuff. Three months. You can survive this trial period.