Monday, July 4, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
I'm in a New York State of Mind (and Body)
Last night I began thinking about where I am in life, how I got here, and what hurdles lie ahead. With that I decided that I needed to look at how others view me and assess the damage done so far in life. Herein lies the dilemma, which also brings me to my "life lesson" of the day. NOT, dear reader (there is probably only one reader, so I will not say dear readers!), the lesson I wish to pass on to you through writing but the lesson I am processing myself at this time and need to learn from in order to move on. It may well result in a lesson passed along to others, but this really is my attempt to understand and accept my lot in life and find a perspective on how to manage life and move on!
I watched a movie last night (no movie plug here) which began as a mindless Sunday night curled up at home. And, of COURSE, that means some wrench had to be thrown into the gears to suddenly disrupt the peaceful, mindless, haze that was NOT created by an illicit or prescription drug or cocktail! This was not a halcyon moment but how I find peace – watching a feel good movie that makes me laugh and forget for two hours what tomorrow may bring. Although a glass of wine would have been a nice accompaniment.
Suddenly, about a third longer into the movie than is my norm, I came to that "I see where they are going" point! Then and there I should have shut it off and went to the store for that nice bottle of Bordeaux but I think the liquor store may have been closed. So I continued on with the movie knowing this is going to be one of those sappy, teary, "I'm worse than a chick" evenings that becomes incredibly embarrassing when hanging out with friends, only minorly endearing when you are sharing it with a loved one, and utterly ridiculous when you are home alone. I didn't need the introspection tonight but it was getting late and I had no other plan. So I sat back and grabbed the kleenex.
AND NOW I VENT . . . not about the movie but about the biological basis of love and my New York state of mind (once you are a New Yorker it's in your blood - part of your genetic makeup).
We start when we are a child, usually an adolescent, viewing the world in a comparative or critical manner, and estimating our value to others (physically and intellectually) and self-worth (not the same thing as our value to others), and the same qualities (or lack thereof) in others. This is the beginning of our search for identity and our biological urging to find the perfect mate. We look for perfection in both (or assume there is such a thing) and life moves us along on a quest to see through the hormonal haze of puberty and early adulthood, and learn enough about ourselves, others and the world around us as we search for a mate. We hope to actually make a mature, intelligent decision without the effects of the "hormonal, instinctive attraction" based on what our body tells us is a good mate-choice (perfect physique of a man who will be the protector of our family or full figure of a woman who we recognize through instinct as a woman who will fruitfully bear our children and care for them). But let's face it, nature is a strong factor. And don't get me started on first impressions – I have them and don't deny it but I don't ever take them to the bank and deposit them. That check usually will bounce!
Then there is the oxytocin and endorphin fueled "attraction". In romantic love, when two people have sex, oxytocin is released, which helps bond the relationship. According to researchers the hormone oxytocin (let's think oxycontin for a moment) has been shown to be "associated with the ability to maintain healthy interpersonal relationships and healthy psychological boundaries with other people." When it is released during sex, it begins creating an emotional bond – the more sex, the greater the bond. Oxytocin is also associated with mother/infant bonding, contractions during labor in childbirth, and the "let down" reflex necessary for breastfeeding. (I work in science so forgive me for getting so technical – it comes with the territory.)
Vasopressin, an antidiuretic hormone, is another chemical that has been associated with the formation of long-term, monogamous relationships. It is believed that oxytocin and vasopressin interfere with the dopamine and norepinephrine pathways, which might explain why passionate love fades as attachment grows. [Google it all kiddies, I did. This blog is supported and featured on Google's "Blogger" so I cut and pasted that and give them the credit - and Wikipedia!] This is my blog but it takes time and I wasn't taking time to draw out in my words what these guys already did well enough! It ain't Google Scholar and don't make me go there I do it every day at work.
No endorphins, the body's natural painkillers, also play a key role in long-term relationships. They produce a general sense of well-being, including feeling soothed, peaceful and secure. Like dopamine and norepinephrine, endorphins are released during sex; they are also released during physical contact, exercise and other "enjoyable" activities. Endorphins induce a "drug-like dependency".
Okay, science lesson is are over and now back to my point. IF we survive this chemically bombarded process during the developmental period when we are meant to learn how to make healthy attachments to another person we might just come out on the other side (at 25 years old or so) having selected the life partner that has also developed a healthy attachment toward us AND is kind, loving and committed for the long haul, as well. Then again, many of us (Hello, love?) are not quite that lucky. There is the possibility that something got thrown into the gears along the way preventing us from developing healthy attachments and ending up at the end of this path with the right person. (Okay here I will say, really? Is there a "right" person, or is it that we managed to develop an attachment randomly with a person who managed to do the same right along with us and we came out on the other side of this "love soup" cooking away on the stove with our dignity in tact and a partner with a heart and soul.) But my point is that healthy attachments are created or they are not. Sometimes they are ill-formed because of trauma, or poor "modeling" by others including our own families, or because of our own biological "architecture" or makeup. By this I mean our very own genetically designed personality and physical state – of mind and of body. And this brings me to my New York state of mind . . .
I have said to some of my friends in the last few years, and have alluded to this in my earliest posting, that at this stage of life and my current "mind and body" status, that I wasn't sure I was meant to be living in NYC during this stage of my life. For whatever it's worth I have come to consider this more closely in the last day or two and have come to some basic conclusions about myself and the world. I need to put these thoughts out there to hopefully solidify my experience, my state, my perspective, and my future view on things. Call it my flash card for life today – that I can review and revisit periodically to cement the meaning of life (my life) in my mind and allow me to stay on track – at least for now.
We are not all lucky, as I have said, to have survived the cooking up of this "love soup" of adolescence and early adulthood. And any view we have of attachment based on this process is what it is. But somehow we survive it and attempt to bond and fall in love despite our ability or the ability of the other person. BUT THEN THERE IS THE INSTINCT. That caveman "instinct" to find someone that physically or biologically appears to be a good mate at first sight. And herein lies my point (you probably never thought I would get to the point, huh?).
Life and genetics doesn't always provide for the "perfect mate". I knew early in life I was not the perfect catch when it came to mating (don't laugh yet, dear reader). I was the nerdy, 110 pound weakling until high school and then I was the nerdy, but very out-going, 120 pound weakling. Now I wasn't really that out-going on the inside but I put on a good show. I recognized even then that if I was going to walk down the street or be sitting in a crowded room I wasn't the person someone's eyes immediately came upon and stopped with that "love at first sight", sonic boom of hormones cascading over their body! I knew that if I were going to make an impression on anyone I had to get their attention in the first 10 minutes and seal the deal. They had to have that "ah-ha" moment where they thought "hmmm, he doesn't appear to be the neanderthal ideal of a protector, but he is kind of smart, kind of funny, and potentially a good prospect somewhere underneath those scrawny 120 pounds and behind those glasses!" Yeah, my grandmother said when I was young "you aren't the handsome one in the class Clay, so you better be the smartest and the nicest if you're going to get someone's attention". Seriously, thanks for the slap in the face, Granny! LOL No need to sugar coat it for this kid – he can handle it. Well, I guess I could.
Then I hit 30 years old and I had not felt those endorphins rushing, or the oxytocin flowing, or been the object of anyone's genuine affections (cue the "boing" sound effects of a heart spring like in those Disney cartoons). Admittedly there were some demons to wrestle with over the years but I never really felt that heart-pulsing rush of endorphins, or hormones, or testosterone, or whatever! AND I wasn't the one that stuck out when you entered that crowded room. Then the genetic and biological picture started to pull into focus a bit more. We are not perfect – any one of us – and then we get a little older and realize just how imperfect our body really is.
I began to have symptoms in my 20s that began become painfully obvious now that something just was not, and never was, right or good. I was always stiff and sore even as a teenager, never really had much strength, was always tired, and was now having a slew of other symptoms that clearly were worrisome. A few years of confusion and misdiagnosis; then science began to make advances; then my doctors began to figure it out and started to run the right tests. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis (R.A.). And this isn't your grandmother's arthritis, this is the rough stuff they never warned me about. In fact my actual diagnosis is reactive arthritis and the doctors, after looking at my medical history, think it probably began with an infection when I was a teenager.
Flash of light inserted here (the big picture?)!
And then we get to the details of the R.A. Most people it begins in various extremities, or so I was told (it's been a while so the details may be a bit murky but I will try to explain this as best as I can to get to the point), but mine seems to center in my trunk (body) and my spine. I've had neck and back pain for decades that finally was making sense but then the bigger picture comes into focus as the years pass and suddenly 20 more years and the picture is still being fleshed out. My R.A. started in my spine and progressed to all of my other joints. With that beginning it also seems to have affected my internal organs – over the last 20 or so years. So I have colitis (extremely severe abdominal and intestinal distress), and the arthritis seems to have affected my prostate, bladder, and possibly my kidneys. They say it can effect your eyes, heart, liver, lungs, and brain, as well. And for me some of those have shown some signs of involvement. I have early signs of uveitis and aortic involvement (all inflammatory conditions associated with the autoimmune response that is R.A. and it's family. It causes me to feel extremely fatigued, and although I manage to not let it keep me down (or get me down? well, that isn't entirely true), I have managed with a great deal of effort and determination to live life and have lived it well. Or at least have tried my best with huge hurdles and a lot of failure. So, it's a good thing Granny gave me that dose of reality back in the day.
Hmmmm, not the best choice of a potential mate! Suddenly that was an understatement. But somehow along the way I did manage to form that significant attachment called love. And the one thing that always filled my heart (mind? soul?) with confidence was not only that I felt that special kind of love for another person but that they made me feel confident that they truly felt that special kind of love for me as well. For the first time in my life I FELT loved. THAT, my friends, was what made me believe that it was the healthy, unconditional love that we all hope to find in life. And even though today that has passed, and we didn't weather the storm well enough to last, I truly loved and felt loved. That is a gift that I have had in life that I will never lose sight of and never doubt. The love that we shared was love in a pure, natural, unconditional, non-endorphin fueled, non-instinctual, developmentally appropriate attachment (although in the beginning there were lots of endorphins and oxytocin). It wasn't without its rocky moments, stumblings, or down right screw u, but I can look at it and know that I will always feel that special something for that person. With all the bets on the table, and the overall hand not looking like I was dealt the best cards, I managed to pull it off, and found the kind of love that is rarely found. In the past love for me was occasionally mistakenly identified, or an attachment that was never completely developed (or done in a healthy manner), but this one time it was the real kind of love. Thank you "C".
And now, hello 50! Have I had my shot? Well, I normally wouldn't write things off now even at this point in life but then the "instinctual attraction" comes back into play. I'm back at the beginning of the game. Reality has kicked in again and in not the prettiest of forms. I am not a "good investment" in this game of love! Nobody wants to go back into the game and find someone that they clearly will need to take care of at some point in the near future. Nobody wants to begin a relationship and find themselves being the caretaker – not in an emotional sense, not in a physical sense, and not in a financial sense. We have lived and learned, and maybe even made mistakes that we hope to avoid the "second" time around (or third or fourth). Even if the path to "caretaker" is slow, the daily life with someone with a chronic, debilitating illness is full of disappointment. Those of us chronically ill face unbelievable fatigue. We manage it as best as we can (I am the king of pain management, fatigue control, and turning on and off that emotional switch that keeps things at bay in order to cope with daily responsibilities, and puts the pain on hold). However, when the day is done we often crash, becoming a bit isolating, and more than a little self-absorbed. The strength required of me in my job and life are handled, and there is nothing requiring my exertion of mental or physical energy, and I click off the switch and shut down.
Friends often fall off along the way. You make plans for next Friday night, and by Friday you can't bear to walk another step, and just want to lay back to recharge. Exhaustion is your worst enemy – unless you count the depression suffered by many people with chronic illness. I think Catholic denial is the best way to ward of depression and am thankful for my mother's Catholic faith and my upbringing even if I have found another path to enlightenment. And friends, even close friends, become less and less tolerant of your unreliable nature OR understand but eventually stop inviting you along since you rarely show up, or make it to the party. You have minor rallies here and there but for the most part are inconsistent and often seen as uninvested in friendships. This is where the "new relationship" problems get even more complicated. People don't want to interrupt that endorphin fueled, warm and fuzzy, chemically enhanced new love to sit home alone watching TV or reading because you can't seem to muster up the strength to be social or "FUN". And don't get me started on the strength or desire for sex. The thought is there on our part but our body says, "What are you kidding?", and that signal is not easily read by the new partner. Lack of interest in sex during the "chemically fueled", endorphin filled, romantic love stage is NOT a good sign to a perspective new partner (or long-term partner that has stood by).
Now I am not looking for a pity party here although that brings me to the dangers of the emotional state of the person who suffers from chronic illness. You get a chip on your shoulder when you DO MANAGE to reel in a perspective mate with your glowing charm, intelligence, wit and sensitivity. The body isn't looking so great so there wasn't that neanderthal attraction of the person everyone notices when they walk in the room (and I repeat, Granny already noted that I didn't have that from the start). My posture has slouched and hunched over a bit and although I can certainly stand up straight it doesn't last and it takes too damn much conscious effort to do so 24/7 (and I fail miserably when attempting to but also isn't that a bit of false advertising?). I have always wanted to get to the gym and see if I can undo the effects of the R.A. and maybe slow down its progression but the thought of doing so is sometimes insurmountable and seemingly a worthless task that only sets me (emotionally) up for disappointment. Then they say that the aortic swelling and involvement of my heart is probably enough reason not to exert myself physically. Failures are hard to ignore and even harder to face when the track record of successes is not in the higher percentiles. So let's face it the chances of finding someone who manages to see past the imperfections and the illnesses (does anyone really LIKE being around a sick person? Even I don't), isn't already medically phobic (because of their own fear of being ill or their experience in earlier life), and has the patience to get through the daily or weekly disappointments (and lack of sex even though it has nothing to do with desire or need but often just physically impossible not to mention the medical baggage we may have packed and brought along with us on this one) are slim and akin to keeping ice cubes frozen in hell! LOL
Then, as I mentioned, there's that chip on our shoulder and the new issues (or old issues) we have with trust! Need I go on? And here I am today. In New York City of all places, single, gay and 50! Fuck this isn't pretty. But then I came to a realization last night while watching the tear-jerker movie that I am throwing out there now (FINALLY HIS FREAKIN' POINT, YOU ARE THINKING). I live in New York City because I made an unconscious decision that was probably the smartest decision at the time. Not the healthiest of decisions but a compromise that I didn't even know I made until last night and seems like it may have been some sort of survival choice. Eat or be eaten, fight or flight, whatever you want to call this biologically based response to the life decisions that we each face daily – I somehow unconsciously and instinctively made a choice.
I don't like the prospect of spending lonely nights at home without some sort of bond, some level of intimacy, or personal interaction. I tend to be a pretty social person even with the isolation and fatigue. I do not want to set myself up for disappointment in attempts to date, explain to the prospective partner the gory details of the illness, risk rejection (I've seen enough and trust me this isn't self pity), or even worse date someone who thinks they can manage it but eventually can't (which by the way begins to look to us like a pity-fuck . . . let's throw the sick guy a bone!), and the bitterness that begins to boil away on the stove throughout this whole process. (Hey, remember that "love soup"?) So then the unconscious choice is made and I didn't see it (or was in SERIOUS denial). I stayed in New York after the end of my relationship when I thought the best thing to do was go (run) and "get thee to a nunnery" or move somewhere that held a core of supportive friends or family. Hey, who wants to spend the rest of their life living with mom, sis, or your best friend and becoming that grumpy old man that yells at the neighborhood children because they went on the lawn to get their baseball?
In NYC I can sometimes be nameless and faceless and not the "one everyone looks at" as he walks into the room or down the street. Because in NYC there are a lot of "us". I can go out when I feel the energy and actually meet someone – yes a total stranger – and have a conversation while sitting having dinner or a drink, and leave feeling fulfilled in having some interaction with a real human being. Sometimes it leads to a friendship sometimes it doesn't. AND I can go out, meet someone, drag them home by the hair like a TRUE neanderthal, and fill or fuel the biological need. Hey, it ain't pretty but it fuels the stove to cook the soup that you're brewing (love soup, denial soup? whatever . . .). So I made a unconscious decision to stay in New York because it is actually easy to be the guy who is alone but not feel so lonely in this crazy, crowded city. It's easy to be the sick guy but not let my guard down and feel vulnerable; be the guy who doesn't attach and keeps his heart well protected and just goes to work, school, and home most days having a great time doing those things. I try staying in touch with friends and family via this thing called the Internet, rarely allowing myself to be vulnerable or lonely. I find myself choosing to become involved with unavailable people because there is less risk of being rejected, hurt, dumped, or made to feel like I'm the last one picked for the team in phys ed class or the last guy standing against the wall at the dance if I consciously choose someone who I know won't be invested and eventually let me down. This sometimes allows me to feel safe (we all need that) and to walk away on my own terms without risking being emotionally involved from the start. I admit none of this is the healthiest approach but it's where I am in life and what I have done in the past (before and after "C"). Now I need to look closely and decide if this choice is working. I don't know if it is or if it will.
I don't know how it happened that I made these decisions, or when, or why. I don't know where I'm going to go with this knowledge or insight, and I welcome from you, patient readers, your comments, suggestions, and "a slap in the head" just like Granny gave me when I was a kid. Reality holds, I know, the answers to most of my questions. I kind of just sketched them out for myself here and hence for you. I just need to put this out there. With that I might find a better path, a new perspective, or a fresher outlook on life as I see it. AND MAYBE there is a chance someone will read this and recognize that person when they meet them in their life, help them make better choices, and maybe even give them a chance. If you do, take these words here into consideration and try to make the best choice for yourself – and the other person. Please don't look at someone with chronic illness or that is differently abled and rule them out because of the "less than perfect" prospect for a mate. Pull back the layers and explore what a person has to offer, who they are, and what kind of mate they can be despite being less than beautiful, less than perfectly fit, or with a shorter life expectancy because of their health. There are many differently abled people that are highly productive and emotionally better balanced than a lot of the "perfect mates" we see out there. I still look across the room and see the guy or girl that catches everyone's eye and think "lucky guy/girl" but I also have known enough people, beauties and not-so-much, to know that the archetype is often not the most sensitive person – or best choice for a long-term commitment – and that the differently abled may have too much baggage (I love you more than my luggage!). But there are exceptions to all the rules so peel back the layers. Don't rush to judge and don't jump in quickly without thinking about your future and theirs. Be kind, not just to yourself but to the other person. And don't make "us" feel like we are the latest project or thing in this world you want to fix. Take time, talk, communicate, learn, and love. It's the least you can do for yourself and the least you can do for the other person.
Please, post a comment and give me some wisdom on this one friends. As Kermit the frog said, "It ain't easy being green". And at the moment I'm in, for better or worse, my "New York state of mind - and body".
Cheers.
I watched a movie last night (no movie plug here) which began as a mindless Sunday night curled up at home. And, of COURSE, that means some wrench had to be thrown into the gears to suddenly disrupt the peaceful, mindless, haze that was NOT created by an illicit or prescription drug or cocktail! This was not a halcyon moment but how I find peace – watching a feel good movie that makes me laugh and forget for two hours what tomorrow may bring. Although a glass of wine would have been a nice accompaniment.
Suddenly, about a third longer into the movie than is my norm, I came to that "I see where they are going" point! Then and there I should have shut it off and went to the store for that nice bottle of Bordeaux but I think the liquor store may have been closed. So I continued on with the movie knowing this is going to be one of those sappy, teary, "I'm worse than a chick" evenings that becomes incredibly embarrassing when hanging out with friends, only minorly endearing when you are sharing it with a loved one, and utterly ridiculous when you are home alone. I didn't need the introspection tonight but it was getting late and I had no other plan. So I sat back and grabbed the kleenex.
AND NOW I VENT . . . not about the movie but about the biological basis of love and my New York state of mind (once you are a New Yorker it's in your blood - part of your genetic makeup).
We start when we are a child, usually an adolescent, viewing the world in a comparative or critical manner, and estimating our value to others (physically and intellectually) and self-worth (not the same thing as our value to others), and the same qualities (or lack thereof) in others. This is the beginning of our search for identity and our biological urging to find the perfect mate. We look for perfection in both (or assume there is such a thing) and life moves us along on a quest to see through the hormonal haze of puberty and early adulthood, and learn enough about ourselves, others and the world around us as we search for a mate. We hope to actually make a mature, intelligent decision without the effects of the "hormonal, instinctive attraction" based on what our body tells us is a good mate-choice (perfect physique of a man who will be the protector of our family or full figure of a woman who we recognize through instinct as a woman who will fruitfully bear our children and care for them). But let's face it, nature is a strong factor. And don't get me started on first impressions – I have them and don't deny it but I don't ever take them to the bank and deposit them. That check usually will bounce!
Then there is the oxytocin and endorphin fueled "attraction". In romantic love, when two people have sex, oxytocin is released, which helps bond the relationship. According to researchers the hormone oxytocin (let's think oxycontin for a moment) has been shown to be "associated with the ability to maintain healthy interpersonal relationships and healthy psychological boundaries with other people." When it is released during sex, it begins creating an emotional bond – the more sex, the greater the bond. Oxytocin is also associated with mother/infant bonding, contractions during labor in childbirth, and the "let down" reflex necessary for breastfeeding. (I work in science so forgive me for getting so technical – it comes with the territory.)
Vasopressin, an antidiuretic hormone, is another chemical that has been associated with the formation of long-term, monogamous relationships. It is believed that oxytocin and vasopressin interfere with the dopamine and norepinephrine pathways, which might explain why passionate love fades as attachment grows. [Google it all kiddies, I did. This blog is supported and featured on Google's "Blogger" so I cut and pasted that and give them the credit - and Wikipedia!] This is my blog but it takes time and I wasn't taking time to draw out in my words what these guys already did well enough! It ain't Google Scholar and don't make me go there I do it every day at work.
No endorphins, the body's natural painkillers, also play a key role in long-term relationships. They produce a general sense of well-being, including feeling soothed, peaceful and secure. Like dopamine and norepinephrine, endorphins are released during sex; they are also released during physical contact, exercise and other "enjoyable" activities. Endorphins induce a "drug-like dependency".
Okay, science lesson is are over and now back to my point. IF we survive this chemically bombarded process during the developmental period when we are meant to learn how to make healthy attachments to another person we might just come out on the other side (at 25 years old or so) having selected the life partner that has also developed a healthy attachment toward us AND is kind, loving and committed for the long haul, as well. Then again, many of us (Hello, love?) are not quite that lucky. There is the possibility that something got thrown into the gears along the way preventing us from developing healthy attachments and ending up at the end of this path with the right person. (Okay here I will say, really? Is there a "right" person, or is it that we managed to develop an attachment randomly with a person who managed to do the same right along with us and we came out on the other side of this "love soup" cooking away on the stove with our dignity in tact and a partner with a heart and soul.) But my point is that healthy attachments are created or they are not. Sometimes they are ill-formed because of trauma, or poor "modeling" by others including our own families, or because of our own biological "architecture" or makeup. By this I mean our very own genetically designed personality and physical state – of mind and of body. And this brings me to my New York state of mind . . .
I have said to some of my friends in the last few years, and have alluded to this in my earliest posting, that at this stage of life and my current "mind and body" status, that I wasn't sure I was meant to be living in NYC during this stage of my life. For whatever it's worth I have come to consider this more closely in the last day or two and have come to some basic conclusions about myself and the world. I need to put these thoughts out there to hopefully solidify my experience, my state, my perspective, and my future view on things. Call it my flash card for life today – that I can review and revisit periodically to cement the meaning of life (my life) in my mind and allow me to stay on track – at least for now.
We are not all lucky, as I have said, to have survived the cooking up of this "love soup" of adolescence and early adulthood. And any view we have of attachment based on this process is what it is. But somehow we survive it and attempt to bond and fall in love despite our ability or the ability of the other person. BUT THEN THERE IS THE INSTINCT. That caveman "instinct" to find someone that physically or biologically appears to be a good mate at first sight. And herein lies my point (you probably never thought I would get to the point, huh?).
Life and genetics doesn't always provide for the "perfect mate". I knew early in life I was not the perfect catch when it came to mating (don't laugh yet, dear reader). I was the nerdy, 110 pound weakling until high school and then I was the nerdy, but very out-going, 120 pound weakling. Now I wasn't really that out-going on the inside but I put on a good show. I recognized even then that if I was going to walk down the street or be sitting in a crowded room I wasn't the person someone's eyes immediately came upon and stopped with that "love at first sight", sonic boom of hormones cascading over their body! I knew that if I were going to make an impression on anyone I had to get their attention in the first 10 minutes and seal the deal. They had to have that "ah-ha" moment where they thought "hmmm, he doesn't appear to be the neanderthal ideal of a protector, but he is kind of smart, kind of funny, and potentially a good prospect somewhere underneath those scrawny 120 pounds and behind those glasses!" Yeah, my grandmother said when I was young "you aren't the handsome one in the class Clay, so you better be the smartest and the nicest if you're going to get someone's attention". Seriously, thanks for the slap in the face, Granny! LOL No need to sugar coat it for this kid – he can handle it. Well, I guess I could.
Then I hit 30 years old and I had not felt those endorphins rushing, or the oxytocin flowing, or been the object of anyone's genuine affections (cue the "boing" sound effects of a heart spring like in those Disney cartoons). Admittedly there were some demons to wrestle with over the years but I never really felt that heart-pulsing rush of endorphins, or hormones, or testosterone, or whatever! AND I wasn't the one that stuck out when you entered that crowded room. Then the genetic and biological picture started to pull into focus a bit more. We are not perfect – any one of us – and then we get a little older and realize just how imperfect our body really is.
I began to have symptoms in my 20s that began become painfully obvious now that something just was not, and never was, right or good. I was always stiff and sore even as a teenager, never really had much strength, was always tired, and was now having a slew of other symptoms that clearly were worrisome. A few years of confusion and misdiagnosis; then science began to make advances; then my doctors began to figure it out and started to run the right tests. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis (R.A.). And this isn't your grandmother's arthritis, this is the rough stuff they never warned me about. In fact my actual diagnosis is reactive arthritis and the doctors, after looking at my medical history, think it probably began with an infection when I was a teenager.
Flash of light inserted here (the big picture?)!
And then we get to the details of the R.A. Most people it begins in various extremities, or so I was told (it's been a while so the details may be a bit murky but I will try to explain this as best as I can to get to the point), but mine seems to center in my trunk (body) and my spine. I've had neck and back pain for decades that finally was making sense but then the bigger picture comes into focus as the years pass and suddenly 20 more years and the picture is still being fleshed out. My R.A. started in my spine and progressed to all of my other joints. With that beginning it also seems to have affected my internal organs – over the last 20 or so years. So I have colitis (extremely severe abdominal and intestinal distress), and the arthritis seems to have affected my prostate, bladder, and possibly my kidneys. They say it can effect your eyes, heart, liver, lungs, and brain, as well. And for me some of those have shown some signs of involvement. I have early signs of uveitis and aortic involvement (all inflammatory conditions associated with the autoimmune response that is R.A. and it's family. It causes me to feel extremely fatigued, and although I manage to not let it keep me down (or get me down? well, that isn't entirely true), I have managed with a great deal of effort and determination to live life and have lived it well. Or at least have tried my best with huge hurdles and a lot of failure. So, it's a good thing Granny gave me that dose of reality back in the day.
Hmmmm, not the best choice of a potential mate! Suddenly that was an understatement. But somehow along the way I did manage to form that significant attachment called love. And the one thing that always filled my heart (mind? soul?) with confidence was not only that I felt that special kind of love for another person but that they made me feel confident that they truly felt that special kind of love for me as well. For the first time in my life I FELT loved. THAT, my friends, was what made me believe that it was the healthy, unconditional love that we all hope to find in life. And even though today that has passed, and we didn't weather the storm well enough to last, I truly loved and felt loved. That is a gift that I have had in life that I will never lose sight of and never doubt. The love that we shared was love in a pure, natural, unconditional, non-endorphin fueled, non-instinctual, developmentally appropriate attachment (although in the beginning there were lots of endorphins and oxytocin). It wasn't without its rocky moments, stumblings, or down right screw u, but I can look at it and know that I will always feel that special something for that person. With all the bets on the table, and the overall hand not looking like I was dealt the best cards, I managed to pull it off, and found the kind of love that is rarely found. In the past love for me was occasionally mistakenly identified, or an attachment that was never completely developed (or done in a healthy manner), but this one time it was the real kind of love. Thank you "C".
And now, hello 50! Have I had my shot? Well, I normally wouldn't write things off now even at this point in life but then the "instinctual attraction" comes back into play. I'm back at the beginning of the game. Reality has kicked in again and in not the prettiest of forms. I am not a "good investment" in this game of love! Nobody wants to go back into the game and find someone that they clearly will need to take care of at some point in the near future. Nobody wants to begin a relationship and find themselves being the caretaker – not in an emotional sense, not in a physical sense, and not in a financial sense. We have lived and learned, and maybe even made mistakes that we hope to avoid the "second" time around (or third or fourth). Even if the path to "caretaker" is slow, the daily life with someone with a chronic, debilitating illness is full of disappointment. Those of us chronically ill face unbelievable fatigue. We manage it as best as we can (I am the king of pain management, fatigue control, and turning on and off that emotional switch that keeps things at bay in order to cope with daily responsibilities, and puts the pain on hold). However, when the day is done we often crash, becoming a bit isolating, and more than a little self-absorbed. The strength required of me in my job and life are handled, and there is nothing requiring my exertion of mental or physical energy, and I click off the switch and shut down.
Friends often fall off along the way. You make plans for next Friday night, and by Friday you can't bear to walk another step, and just want to lay back to recharge. Exhaustion is your worst enemy – unless you count the depression suffered by many people with chronic illness. I think Catholic denial is the best way to ward of depression and am thankful for my mother's Catholic faith and my upbringing even if I have found another path to enlightenment. And friends, even close friends, become less and less tolerant of your unreliable nature OR understand but eventually stop inviting you along since you rarely show up, or make it to the party. You have minor rallies here and there but for the most part are inconsistent and often seen as uninvested in friendships. This is where the "new relationship" problems get even more complicated. People don't want to interrupt that endorphin fueled, warm and fuzzy, chemically enhanced new love to sit home alone watching TV or reading because you can't seem to muster up the strength to be social or "FUN". And don't get me started on the strength or desire for sex. The thought is there on our part but our body says, "What are you kidding?", and that signal is not easily read by the new partner. Lack of interest in sex during the "chemically fueled", endorphin filled, romantic love stage is NOT a good sign to a perspective new partner (or long-term partner that has stood by).
Now I am not looking for a pity party here although that brings me to the dangers of the emotional state of the person who suffers from chronic illness. You get a chip on your shoulder when you DO MANAGE to reel in a perspective mate with your glowing charm, intelligence, wit and sensitivity. The body isn't looking so great so there wasn't that neanderthal attraction of the person everyone notices when they walk in the room (and I repeat, Granny already noted that I didn't have that from the start). My posture has slouched and hunched over a bit and although I can certainly stand up straight it doesn't last and it takes too damn much conscious effort to do so 24/7 (and I fail miserably when attempting to but also isn't that a bit of false advertising?). I have always wanted to get to the gym and see if I can undo the effects of the R.A. and maybe slow down its progression but the thought of doing so is sometimes insurmountable and seemingly a worthless task that only sets me (emotionally) up for disappointment. Then they say that the aortic swelling and involvement of my heart is probably enough reason not to exert myself physically. Failures are hard to ignore and even harder to face when the track record of successes is not in the higher percentiles. So let's face it the chances of finding someone who manages to see past the imperfections and the illnesses (does anyone really LIKE being around a sick person? Even I don't), isn't already medically phobic (because of their own fear of being ill or their experience in earlier life), and has the patience to get through the daily or weekly disappointments (and lack of sex even though it has nothing to do with desire or need but often just physically impossible not to mention the medical baggage we may have packed and brought along with us on this one) are slim and akin to keeping ice cubes frozen in hell! LOL
Then, as I mentioned, there's that chip on our shoulder and the new issues (or old issues) we have with trust! Need I go on? And here I am today. In New York City of all places, single, gay and 50! Fuck this isn't pretty. But then I came to a realization last night while watching the tear-jerker movie that I am throwing out there now (FINALLY HIS FREAKIN' POINT, YOU ARE THINKING). I live in New York City because I made an unconscious decision that was probably the smartest decision at the time. Not the healthiest of decisions but a compromise that I didn't even know I made until last night and seems like it may have been some sort of survival choice. Eat or be eaten, fight or flight, whatever you want to call this biologically based response to the life decisions that we each face daily – I somehow unconsciously and instinctively made a choice.
I don't like the prospect of spending lonely nights at home without some sort of bond, some level of intimacy, or personal interaction. I tend to be a pretty social person even with the isolation and fatigue. I do not want to set myself up for disappointment in attempts to date, explain to the prospective partner the gory details of the illness, risk rejection (I've seen enough and trust me this isn't self pity), or even worse date someone who thinks they can manage it but eventually can't (which by the way begins to look to us like a pity-fuck . . . let's throw the sick guy a bone!), and the bitterness that begins to boil away on the stove throughout this whole process. (Hey, remember that "love soup"?) So then the unconscious choice is made and I didn't see it (or was in SERIOUS denial). I stayed in New York after the end of my relationship when I thought the best thing to do was go (run) and "get thee to a nunnery" or move somewhere that held a core of supportive friends or family. Hey, who wants to spend the rest of their life living with mom, sis, or your best friend and becoming that grumpy old man that yells at the neighborhood children because they went on the lawn to get their baseball?
In NYC I can sometimes be nameless and faceless and not the "one everyone looks at" as he walks into the room or down the street. Because in NYC there are a lot of "us". I can go out when I feel the energy and actually meet someone – yes a total stranger – and have a conversation while sitting having dinner or a drink, and leave feeling fulfilled in having some interaction with a real human being. Sometimes it leads to a friendship sometimes it doesn't. AND I can go out, meet someone, drag them home by the hair like a TRUE neanderthal, and fill or fuel the biological need. Hey, it ain't pretty but it fuels the stove to cook the soup that you're brewing (love soup, denial soup? whatever . . .). So I made a unconscious decision to stay in New York because it is actually easy to be the guy who is alone but not feel so lonely in this crazy, crowded city. It's easy to be the sick guy but not let my guard down and feel vulnerable; be the guy who doesn't attach and keeps his heart well protected and just goes to work, school, and home most days having a great time doing those things. I try staying in touch with friends and family via this thing called the Internet, rarely allowing myself to be vulnerable or lonely. I find myself choosing to become involved with unavailable people because there is less risk of being rejected, hurt, dumped, or made to feel like I'm the last one picked for the team in phys ed class or the last guy standing against the wall at the dance if I consciously choose someone who I know won't be invested and eventually let me down. This sometimes allows me to feel safe (we all need that) and to walk away on my own terms without risking being emotionally involved from the start. I admit none of this is the healthiest approach but it's where I am in life and what I have done in the past (before and after "C"). Now I need to look closely and decide if this choice is working. I don't know if it is or if it will.
I don't know how it happened that I made these decisions, or when, or why. I don't know where I'm going to go with this knowledge or insight, and I welcome from you, patient readers, your comments, suggestions, and "a slap in the head" just like Granny gave me when I was a kid. Reality holds, I know, the answers to most of my questions. I kind of just sketched them out for myself here and hence for you. I just need to put this out there. With that I might find a better path, a new perspective, or a fresher outlook on life as I see it. AND MAYBE there is a chance someone will read this and recognize that person when they meet them in their life, help them make better choices, and maybe even give them a chance. If you do, take these words here into consideration and try to make the best choice for yourself – and the other person. Please don't look at someone with chronic illness or that is differently abled and rule them out because of the "less than perfect" prospect for a mate. Pull back the layers and explore what a person has to offer, who they are, and what kind of mate they can be despite being less than beautiful, less than perfectly fit, or with a shorter life expectancy because of their health. There are many differently abled people that are highly productive and emotionally better balanced than a lot of the "perfect mates" we see out there. I still look across the room and see the guy or girl that catches everyone's eye and think "lucky guy/girl" but I also have known enough people, beauties and not-so-much, to know that the archetype is often not the most sensitive person – or best choice for a long-term commitment – and that the differently abled may have too much baggage (I love you more than my luggage!). But there are exceptions to all the rules so peel back the layers. Don't rush to judge and don't jump in quickly without thinking about your future and theirs. Be kind, not just to yourself but to the other person. And don't make "us" feel like we are the latest project or thing in this world you want to fix. Take time, talk, communicate, learn, and love. It's the least you can do for yourself and the least you can do for the other person.
Please, post a comment and give me some wisdom on this one friends. As Kermit the frog said, "It ain't easy being green". And at the moment I'm in, for better or worse, my "New York state of mind - and body".
Cheers.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The Wedding Singer
I had the chance last night to do something I don't often do living in New York City. I actually took advantage of the fact that there is so much to do in the city and went and DID something – just for me. Well sort of . . .
I have a paper to write for a humanities class I am taking on music. The paper has to be a description of a live performance. So it was for class AND for me, both directly and indirectly.
So I thought about what musical event I should attend. This presents a myriad of problems for me because I don't pay attention to what events are coming up in the city so when I finally find out about something I want to go to it's sold out and I end up missing it. You know the drill. And again, I wanted to think outside of my comfort zone. I considered going to see a kabuki performance (classical Japanese dance/drama). Then I found out it was to be a Butoh performance. This typically involves playful and grotesque imagery, taboo topics, extreme environments and is traditionally performed in white body makeup with slow, controlled motions. Given the recent events in Japan I decided this was probably more than I could manage on a Tuesday night!
Then I heard about a friend of mine who had been singing recently on Broadway in the Frank Sinatra inspired musical, choreographed by Twyla Tharp, "Come Fly Away". The deadbeat friend that I am, I never managed to see her perform before the show closed after a brief but fairly well received run (don't get me started on why musicals fail and why this one didn't last – that's a whole other post waiting to happen). Then I heard she was singing with a jazz/swing band once a week in the theater district. Don't get me started on swing band/nightclub/restaurants in Times Square! They are what they are, they give good people the chance to be working musicians, and the venue typically is kitschy, run down, over-priced, and poorly managed. But my friends get work (and some of my friends are the servers and bartenders not just the performers).
Then I had the chance to catch up with H between her numbers and during breaks. We chatted about life and why we hadn't seen each other in over two years, how GREAT we both looked (she commenting on me and me disagreeing and me commenting on she and she disagreeing – look, it's what we do, okay?)! Then I asked about her quickly approaching nuptials! AND here is where I finally get to my point!
I love H, so this was a proud moment for me – not that she was getting married but the opinions she began to divulge about weddings in general and her wedding in particular! I asked the usual questions and her answers made me proud to be her friend. H and her intended spouse, E, are going to Sonoma to get married in a small, quiet wedding. Now it isn't the Sonoma part that I am cheering on it is the further arrangements and how they have chosen to handle it.
They have not registered and do not have a bridal/wedding registry. AMEN SISTER! Their feelings are that they have moved in together, combining two households into one already, and don't need all that STUFF. They already have it OR they know what they want and are completely capable of getting it themselves. There is no need to pander to their friends to get them THIS china pattern and service for 12 or THIS set of $2000 cookware. They have the things they want and are able to provide for themselves what they need in life. This is a wedding celebration and they want to share it with their closest friends. Their friends will pay to fly to San Francisco, rent a car, drive to Napa, stay at a hotel for a couple nights, and put out enough money in order to be present. Why suggest that they spend several hundred more dollars by demanding a gift? I was shocked to find out there are now websites that allow "guests" of the couple to directly deposit $ online for things like a down payment for the couple's soon to be purchased home!
Okay, now I normally wouldn't go into this or give my opinion at risk of being slapped by all those out there that say that this is a magical, once in a lifetime moment and it should be perfect and it is the beginning of their lives together and everyone should make sure that the life ahead is as comfortable as possible! REALLY, who said this? The Wedding Planners Association?
Being a gay man, even if I did buy into going to a state that allows same sex couples to be married, and going through the whole "wedding" thing, which I do not buy into for reasons we can discuss in a later posting, I still know that I need to tread lightly here. Same sex unions are a fairly recent thing and even if I were to have bought into it during my adult life there would have been very FEW (not zero but few) friends or family, especially pre-1995 or so, that would have bought into it. And when these unions were not even mildly recognized, but we as couples loved/lived together for 10 years (my personal landmark), or more (I know some going on 50 years), very FEW people threw us a party, threw us a wedding, gave us a shower (!), showered us with gifts to feather our nest (birds of a feather), or asked us where we were registered. But all of this aside I understand it, have never shared these thoughts with most of my friends or relatives, and have obligingly followed tradition, attended weddings, and showered those lucky enough to find a partner to marry and raise a family with all the attention that is "requested". But here is H telling me, "Oh, hell NO!"
She has worked as a wedding singer and a caterer/server; she has seen the bride-zillas up close and personal. And not just the bride-zillas but even the SANE couples who sit back and are over-indulgent or have over-indulgent families that turn the event into something that rivals the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics! She knows what these events can turn into and has been equally as appalled as I have been at the general appearance (not their dress) of the celebrants. Now this is not a BLANKET RULE covering all weddings, all families, and all couples. But I have seen me a few weddings! And sometimes I am just horrified and insulted by the whole thing.
So, H and E are having the "picture perfect" Napa wedding with 40 close friends. They are NOT registering or accepting gifts, not inviting 400 people or their entire hometown, not registering at Neiman-Marcus, and not suggesting that their guests be responsible for their future life(style) or the comfort of their future home. They both are simply asking people to come, if they can, to celebrate with them on this occasion. H isn't wearing a wedding dress made by a designer she can't afford, with bows, sequins, bugle beads, a tiara, and veil. They aren't even having a wedding cake! H hates wedding cakes (they are USUALLY horrible unless you just are a cake fiend). The dessert will be excellent and will compliment the meal they serve their guests (I am surprised someone hasn't figured out how to charge the guests for their meals at this point - thank GOD some traditions haven't been completely run over by the moving truck full of household goods and cash brought home after the wedding).
Brava, H, and bravo E! Finally a couple who tells the world "come on, we are adults and we are making this choice together and not relying upon you to facilitate it, furnish it, feather it, or fake it with us! I love my friends and family, and am happy for them all when they marry. Can I tell you how many are still married to the spouse they first fell in love with and married? Not many.
I have only lived with one partner because I have only fallen in love with one person out of the many I have "known". And I didn't do too well keeping that one together so no stones being thrown here BUT I didn't ask you to buy us the Moser crystal wine glasses barware that we owned together and went to Prague to buy (because there it was less than 20% of what they sell for at Gump's or Neiman-Marcus). We didn't register for the 150 year old antique china that we collected, the Versace dinnerware that we bought a piece at a time over the years we were living together, or the $1500 cookware that we divided up when I moved out! We made the choices, the commitments, the payments, and we were just happy that you recognized our commitment to each other during our time together – for as long as we lasted. You recognized our love every day and shared in it with us often, and validated it every step of the way. And we didn't ask you to pay for a damn thing! IF we had gotten "unioned" I promise you, and if I ever do in the future to some unfortunate person, I promise you this – I will never ask you to pay for a thing except the transportation to get to the event, wherever it happens. H and L have made me proud and I wanted to share their wisdom with you (maybe because it is, sort of, my wise-ass opinion as well).
On a lighter note: H did not skimp in one area regarding marriage and tradition and I love her for this as well! You should see the freakin' ring she got! Amazing! Oh, and I am prodding her to see if she can get her wedding announcement in the New York Times. Tacky? Oh, YEAH. But her doing so would kind of be a "thumbing her nose" at the over-indulgent people who think it is a requirement or that it makes the event "newsworthy" or "of a certain social caliber and therefore validates their union, their life, or their social stature"!
Cheers! (clink)
I have a paper to write for a humanities class I am taking on music. The paper has to be a description of a live performance. So it was for class AND for me, both directly and indirectly.
So I thought about what musical event I should attend. This presents a myriad of problems for me because I don't pay attention to what events are coming up in the city so when I finally find out about something I want to go to it's sold out and I end up missing it. You know the drill. And again, I wanted to think outside of my comfort zone. I considered going to see a kabuki performance (classical Japanese dance/drama). Then I found out it was to be a Butoh performance. This typically involves playful and grotesque imagery, taboo topics, extreme environments and is traditionally performed in white body makeup with slow, controlled motions. Given the recent events in Japan I decided this was probably more than I could manage on a Tuesday night!
Then I heard about a friend of mine who had been singing recently on Broadway in the Frank Sinatra inspired musical, choreographed by Twyla Tharp, "Come Fly Away". The deadbeat friend that I am, I never managed to see her perform before the show closed after a brief but fairly well received run (don't get me started on why musicals fail and why this one didn't last – that's a whole other post waiting to happen). Then I heard she was singing with a jazz/swing band once a week in the theater district. Don't get me started on swing band/nightclub/restaurants in Times Square! They are what they are, they give good people the chance to be working musicians, and the venue typically is kitschy, run down, over-priced, and poorly managed. But my friends get work (and some of my friends are the servers and bartenders not just the performers).
Then I had the chance to catch up with H between her numbers and during breaks. We chatted about life and why we hadn't seen each other in over two years, how GREAT we both looked (she commenting on me and me disagreeing and me commenting on she and she disagreeing – look, it's what we do, okay?)! Then I asked about her quickly approaching nuptials! AND here is where I finally get to my point!
I love H, so this was a proud moment for me – not that she was getting married but the opinions she began to divulge about weddings in general and her wedding in particular! I asked the usual questions and her answers made me proud to be her friend. H and her intended spouse, E, are going to Sonoma to get married in a small, quiet wedding. Now it isn't the Sonoma part that I am cheering on it is the further arrangements and how they have chosen to handle it.
They have not registered and do not have a bridal/wedding registry. AMEN SISTER! Their feelings are that they have moved in together, combining two households into one already, and don't need all that STUFF. They already have it OR they know what they want and are completely capable of getting it themselves. There is no need to pander to their friends to get them THIS china pattern and service for 12 or THIS set of $2000 cookware. They have the things they want and are able to provide for themselves what they need in life. This is a wedding celebration and they want to share it with their closest friends. Their friends will pay to fly to San Francisco, rent a car, drive to Napa, stay at a hotel for a couple nights, and put out enough money in order to be present. Why suggest that they spend several hundred more dollars by demanding a gift? I was shocked to find out there are now websites that allow "guests" of the couple to directly deposit $ online for things like a down payment for the couple's soon to be purchased home!
Okay, now I normally wouldn't go into this or give my opinion at risk of being slapped by all those out there that say that this is a magical, once in a lifetime moment and it should be perfect and it is the beginning of their lives together and everyone should make sure that the life ahead is as comfortable as possible! REALLY, who said this? The Wedding Planners Association?
Being a gay man, even if I did buy into going to a state that allows same sex couples to be married, and going through the whole "wedding" thing, which I do not buy into for reasons we can discuss in a later posting, I still know that I need to tread lightly here. Same sex unions are a fairly recent thing and even if I were to have bought into it during my adult life there would have been very FEW (not zero but few) friends or family, especially pre-1995 or so, that would have bought into it. And when these unions were not even mildly recognized, but we as couples loved/lived together for 10 years (my personal landmark), or more (I know some going on 50 years), very FEW people threw us a party, threw us a wedding, gave us a shower (!), showered us with gifts to feather our nest (birds of a feather), or asked us where we were registered. But all of this aside I understand it, have never shared these thoughts with most of my friends or relatives, and have obligingly followed tradition, attended weddings, and showered those lucky enough to find a partner to marry and raise a family with all the attention that is "requested". But here is H telling me, "Oh, hell NO!"
She has worked as a wedding singer and a caterer/server; she has seen the bride-zillas up close and personal. And not just the bride-zillas but even the SANE couples who sit back and are over-indulgent or have over-indulgent families that turn the event into something that rivals the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics! She knows what these events can turn into and has been equally as appalled as I have been at the general appearance (not their dress) of the celebrants. Now this is not a BLANKET RULE covering all weddings, all families, and all couples. But I have seen me a few weddings! And sometimes I am just horrified and insulted by the whole thing.
So, H and E are having the "picture perfect" Napa wedding with 40 close friends. They are NOT registering or accepting gifts, not inviting 400 people or their entire hometown, not registering at Neiman-Marcus, and not suggesting that their guests be responsible for their future life(style) or the comfort of their future home. They both are simply asking people to come, if they can, to celebrate with them on this occasion. H isn't wearing a wedding dress made by a designer she can't afford, with bows, sequins, bugle beads, a tiara, and veil. They aren't even having a wedding cake! H hates wedding cakes (they are USUALLY horrible unless you just are a cake fiend). The dessert will be excellent and will compliment the meal they serve their guests (I am surprised someone hasn't figured out how to charge the guests for their meals at this point - thank GOD some traditions haven't been completely run over by the moving truck full of household goods and cash brought home after the wedding).
Brava, H, and bravo E! Finally a couple who tells the world "come on, we are adults and we are making this choice together and not relying upon you to facilitate it, furnish it, feather it, or fake it with us! I love my friends and family, and am happy for them all when they marry. Can I tell you how many are still married to the spouse they first fell in love with and married? Not many.
I have only lived with one partner because I have only fallen in love with one person out of the many I have "known". And I didn't do too well keeping that one together so no stones being thrown here BUT I didn't ask you to buy us the Moser crystal wine glasses barware that we owned together and went to Prague to buy (because there it was less than 20% of what they sell for at Gump's or Neiman-Marcus). We didn't register for the 150 year old antique china that we collected, the Versace dinnerware that we bought a piece at a time over the years we were living together, or the $1500 cookware that we divided up when I moved out! We made the choices, the commitments, the payments, and we were just happy that you recognized our commitment to each other during our time together – for as long as we lasted. You recognized our love every day and shared in it with us often, and validated it every step of the way. And we didn't ask you to pay for a damn thing! IF we had gotten "unioned" I promise you, and if I ever do in the future to some unfortunate person, I promise you this – I will never ask you to pay for a thing except the transportation to get to the event, wherever it happens. H and L have made me proud and I wanted to share their wisdom with you (maybe because it is, sort of, my wise-ass opinion as well).
On a lighter note: H did not skimp in one area regarding marriage and tradition and I love her for this as well! You should see the freakin' ring she got! Amazing! Oh, and I am prodding her to see if she can get her wedding announcement in the New York Times. Tacky? Oh, YEAH. But her doing so would kind of be a "thumbing her nose" at the over-indulgent people who think it is a requirement or that it makes the event "newsworthy" or "of a certain social caliber and therefore validates their union, their life, or their social stature"!
Cheers! (clink)
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Pappa's got a brand new bag! OW!
The time has come to launch "a CLAY in THE LIFE". I've toyed with the idea of writing a blog for a few years and finally have convinced my inner self that it's okay, even if it's a little (okay, very) self-indulgent. Maybe I've just come across so much self-indulgence in the last few years on the part of others that I have decided to indulge myself. This blog will likely be one part bio, two parts musings, four parts ranting, and three parts nonsense until I find exactly what direction I want to take it . . . but here we go.
The one thing that this will NOT be is a 'Julie/Julia'-like rant filled with self-absorbed attempts to "therapize" myself. THAT is what a therapist is for and at the moment I don't think I have the need for one. YOU, reader (if there ever are any readers) may feel free to comment at any time if I am being delusional about this and I assure you - I am old enough and have enough insurance (to quote Kathy Bates character in "Fried Green Tomatoes") to get myself to a shrink.
Actually, I only recently glanced at the now infamous blog by the young woman, Julie, that was made into a movie by Nora Ephron starring, among others, Stanley Tucci and Meryl Streep. I loved the movie and especially loved the star performances. Meryl was, well, Meryl. She transformed herself once again into a person you couldn't imagine being believably portrayed by any living, working actor. And Stanley was, well, Stanley. He was flawless. You could feel the love shared between the two characters. It was a special pairing.
BUT I DIGRESS
So let this be my "Hi, how are you? I'm Clay" entry to "a CLAY in THE LIFE" (and I promise not to continue to use the title over and over in my postings, and certainly discontinue the use of the CAPS). A brief "this is who I am" now and more in later entries to fill in the blanks.
I am a single, admittedly gay man, working as an administrator (read – glorified secretary) to a notable (maybe even notorious) scientist, "α", in New York City. That alone says enough for now. So I clearly work at an university (is "an" correct?) and have worked for various institutions of higher education for about the last 16 years, except for an extended hiatus that may have ultimately been the beginning of the end of my then relationship.
A few years ago I started this job (more on that another time) and began to explore what options life would have for me. I decided to consider going back to school after an extended hiatus and applied to Columbia University's School for General Studies thinking, "Maybe it's time for me to leave Manhattan and consider a calmer life and leave the chaos of the city." So I decided things the way I usually do . . . if I do this and it happens I will go with it, and if not I will make a decision. So I applied to finish my bachelors - in a yet to be determined major - with the thought that I would never get accepted to Columbia so then I would have no reason to stay here and would have to decide where I wanted to live and what I could do for the rest of my life. My grandmother used to refer to those kinds of moments as "shit or get off the pot" moments. I threw my efforts into an application that I had little confidence in, wrote the requisite essay, applied to my "back up" school but didn't even finish that application. A little sabotage would force me to make a change when this all played out badly. Then I opened the envelope in my hand one day and low and behold the crazy admissions committee had accepted me. (fuck, now what?) A decision had been made for me and there was no reason to make any decisions. I was working for the university, accepted into a degree program, had a tuition waiver benefit, and a new chapter would soon begin. Oh, and I was fast approaching 50 years old. In fact, this blog will go up almost exactly 6 months before my 50th birthday. Okay, so maybe this is going to be somewhat therapeutic . . . we will see.
That letter arrived over two years ago and here I am today. I am working for α and taking classes part time a couple nights a week. I moved out of the apartment that I had shared with "C", my partner who I had been with for almost ten years. I was subletting a furnished apartment from a friend who was on tour with "The Jersey Boys" and hoping that there was reconciliation in our future. There was not. And now more than two years later I have moved into an apartment that I share with "Z" (more on that later) in Manhattan's East Village. It is a far cooler neighborhood than I admittedly should be living in . . . but if I tried to move to Brooklyn they would meet me as I exit the subway, confiscate my papers, and send me back across the river because I am certainly not cool enough to live there either. So I have slithered into the East Village unnoticed and am carving out my existence there, day by day. A Clay in the Life.
Cheers
The one thing that this will NOT be is a 'Julie/Julia'-like rant filled with self-absorbed attempts to "therapize" myself. THAT is what a therapist is for and at the moment I don't think I have the need for one. YOU, reader (if there ever are any readers) may feel free to comment at any time if I am being delusional about this and I assure you - I am old enough and have enough insurance (to quote Kathy Bates character in "Fried Green Tomatoes") to get myself to a shrink.
Actually, I only recently glanced at the now infamous blog by the young woman, Julie, that was made into a movie by Nora Ephron starring, among others, Stanley Tucci and Meryl Streep. I loved the movie and especially loved the star performances. Meryl was, well, Meryl. She transformed herself once again into a person you couldn't imagine being believably portrayed by any living, working actor. And Stanley was, well, Stanley. He was flawless. You could feel the love shared between the two characters. It was a special pairing.
BUT I DIGRESS
So let this be my "Hi, how are you? I'm Clay" entry to "a CLAY in THE LIFE" (and I promise not to continue to use the title over and over in my postings, and certainly discontinue the use of the CAPS). A brief "this is who I am" now and more in later entries to fill in the blanks.
I am a single, admittedly gay man, working as an administrator (read – glorified secretary) to a notable (maybe even notorious) scientist, "α", in New York City. That alone says enough for now. So I clearly work at an university (is "an" correct?) and have worked for various institutions of higher education for about the last 16 years, except for an extended hiatus that may have ultimately been the beginning of the end of my then relationship.
A few years ago I started this job (more on that another time) and began to explore what options life would have for me. I decided to consider going back to school after an extended hiatus and applied to Columbia University's School for General Studies thinking, "Maybe it's time for me to leave Manhattan and consider a calmer life and leave the chaos of the city." So I decided things the way I usually do . . . if I do this and it happens I will go with it, and if not I will make a decision. So I applied to finish my bachelors - in a yet to be determined major - with the thought that I would never get accepted to Columbia so then I would have no reason to stay here and would have to decide where I wanted to live and what I could do for the rest of my life. My grandmother used to refer to those kinds of moments as "shit or get off the pot" moments. I threw my efforts into an application that I had little confidence in, wrote the requisite essay, applied to my "back up" school but didn't even finish that application. A little sabotage would force me to make a change when this all played out badly. Then I opened the envelope in my hand one day and low and behold the crazy admissions committee had accepted me. (fuck, now what?) A decision had been made for me and there was no reason to make any decisions. I was working for the university, accepted into a degree program, had a tuition waiver benefit, and a new chapter would soon begin. Oh, and I was fast approaching 50 years old. In fact, this blog will go up almost exactly 6 months before my 50th birthday. Okay, so maybe this is going to be somewhat therapeutic . . . we will see.
That letter arrived over two years ago and here I am today. I am working for α and taking classes part time a couple nights a week. I moved out of the apartment that I had shared with "C", my partner who I had been with for almost ten years. I was subletting a furnished apartment from a friend who was on tour with "The Jersey Boys" and hoping that there was reconciliation in our future. There was not. And now more than two years later I have moved into an apartment that I share with "Z" (more on that later) in Manhattan's East Village. It is a far cooler neighborhood than I admittedly should be living in . . . but if I tried to move to Brooklyn they would meet me as I exit the subway, confiscate my papers, and send me back across the river because I am certainly not cool enough to live there either. So I have slithered into the East Village unnoticed and am carving out my existence there, day by day. A Clay in the Life.
Cheers
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