Thankful for home

Last week I went home for Thanksgiving.

I walked off the platform of the R5 in Thornedale to my dad and dog, as usual. Cedes, my dog, wriggled in happiness at seeing me. Her presence lifts my heart because I know she has and will always love me no matter what.

In the car, my dad and I discussed current events like North Korea and the elections, as usual. Through the mundane conversation, I could sense that he really does enjoy being the first to see me off the train, waiting by the truck with the dog in the parking lot.

But something was a little different.

I didn't feel like I had to hide who I was...even if it wasn't relevant to the conversation. There was an unspoken understanding between us, I was still who I have always been to him.

We got home and my mom had left out dinner for me, as usual. It was no longer hot, so I put the plate of hot dogs, beans and cauliflower in the microwave and we sat down to talk. We talked about work, the dog, my brother and his kids, her sisters and my cousin's families, news that she had forgotten to include in our daily e-mails.

But again, something was a little different.

I felt like now, even if unsaid, she had a better idea of what my life was like in New York. She asked, quietly, if I was seeing anyone. I laughed and said no, that I was single and happy about it. I don't quite think they're ready to be regaled with stories of dating...let alone sex.

After coming out to my parents on the last day of my previous visit home, it didn't feel like a great burden was lifted off my shoulders, there was no instant sense of relief. I let them glimpse into a world that I had guarded closely and came back to the life I've made in New York. I brush over it quickly now, but at the time coming out had left me emotionally ragged and raw.

I was nervous about opening up those emotions again, of visiting home. But settling into the usual routine slowly put my nerves at ease, like the warmth you feel getting into bed as your body heat spreads under a heavy blanket.

I really was home, and they still accepted and loved me unconditionally. And it wasn't just Cedes this time.

Moving havoc

So I decided to stay in New York City for Labor Day weekend and it turned out that a friend was moving. So as my plans were suddenly vacant, I offered to help. I'm a swell friend, aren't I?

We started Friday night but couldn't get motivated. It was Friday, after all! We're sitting in his room, I brought over supplies (a bottle of vodka, some club soda) and we were contemplating what/how to do aka watching True Blood.

Needless to say we didn't do much but enjoy True Blood and the vodka, and then of course listened to some Justin Bieber. Who can't love that kid? I'll tell you, me.

All of his songs are so materialistic and fluff: baby this and baby that, I'll buy you a diamond ring and the finer things, themes that drive tween girls and gay twinks wild. Also, I'm aware that he is an excellent singer, having seen his YouTube covers of pop songs, but why the heavy hand of AutoTunes!? Just make him sing it til he gets it right! It didn't help that 4 of his songs were in a playlist that only lasted two hours. Needless to say, my friend is stuck in twink mode.

But we had fun, got pretty drunk, and ended up going out. Not much moving got done.

I crashed there and the next day we made a trip to Staples/Manhattan Mini Storage and packed up just about everything in his room and the kitchen/common areas. One of the easy things was that he was keeping the same roommate so we didn't have to divide up the goods, even though most of it was his anyway.

We finished up around 3am - we seriously took our time - and I made the trek back to Brooklyn craving nothing more than a shower and my own bed. I was not staying there as he had wrapped up his bed already and planned on sleeping on the couch. He had hired movers to actually move the stuff Sunday morning, and I figured for my own sanity it'd be best if I stayed home and waited to help him unpack in Queens.

I again set up his kitchen. Only one bowl broke in the move. I consider that a success.

All in all, he seemed happy to have it over with. Our mutual friend Laurence tasked himself and I with keeping him sane through it all. In a text last night, he described what I felt...

"Mission accomplished ;-)"

And to think, I could have gone to Asbury Park instead...

Break up...make up?

It's funny. I bought a new bike because the brakes on my old one were shot. About 2 weeks after buying a new bike with good brakes, and having them tuned up, I break up a relationship that for all intents and purposes was going well.

But I wasn't sure what I wanted, wasn't sure how much I was into him, and didn't feel that I was being fair to him without being able to commit 100% to that relationship.

It had been nearly three months, I figured it was time to either go for it or move on...so I decided to move on.

The problem with this was that I wasn't clear with him from the start about my uncertainties. I never directly shared them with him or people close to him, only to my friends. They advised me to talk with him about it, but I put it off. Part of this was due to a previous relationship and the brinkmanship and mistrust that I experienced during the final months of that. Another part was that I really did like this guy and was afraid that if I brought it up I would lose him in every capacity, as a friend, boyfriend or even acquaintance.

So I didn't bring it up, until I decided to move on, until I had made that decision in my head, without any input from him. Not that my process was necessarily wrong, but it wasn't the most diplomatic way of ending things...As a result, he no longer wants to speak to me, no longer wants to associate me and wants to erase my existence from his life. This is part of his healing process, I suppose, and I owe him that.

I could sense that he was really enjoying what we had (as was I) and looking to settle down (which I was not). Maybe we could have worked something out...but I'm not one to compromise on a relationship like that and as I said before, I didn't think it would be fair.

I will give him his space, allow him time. Hopefully at some point we can become friends, he'll know that nothing I did was intentional and that I'm still working through a lot of what I want on my own. And with that...I think I've hit the point of rambling.

Sigh...one of the good things about this is that I've learned a lot. I know that I can be very closed off and distance myself emotionally but I rarely allow myself to see how it effects others. This has been a wake up call to that...live and learn.

So in the end...dems the breaks, for sure.

This aint no lump of coal...

How I came to New York is a bit of a peculiar story… As inevitable as it was I definitely took an odd route. I really do believe that I was meant to live here for at least a good portion of my life, but I was not totally doe eyed about the experience either. I knew that coming to NYC (and staying) would be hard and require a level of determination that I hadn’t experienced previously.

The idea was put into my head that I could survive here, or any other big city, on Christmas day. I was in a bar, drinking with my brother and his best friend. At the end of the table they introduced me to his sister, Steph. Steph was a little different. I could tell immediately. Maybe it was her really cool cell phone, the Razr, which at the time only drug dealers or techies were using back in Lancaster. There was something that I was drawn to but I really doubt it was her cell phone.

She was visiting from New York for Christmas and had brought a friend along but once we started talking we completely ignored everyone else at the table. It was like meeting someone I had known all my life for the first time. It was strange, I was able to open up to her completely. It started because we spoke about music and quickly moved on from there.

Steph, as I have come to find out, has a directness about her that helps to guide others. Which makes sense - she manages musicians for a living, notorious for being misguided and lacking direction of their own.

The conversation changed quickly to what I was doing, what I wanted to be doing, and where I wanted to do it. She spoke of the glory of the big city, the opportunities there in comparison to where we were from. I understood and grasped it immediately. She asked what I was doing wasting my time in Lancaster in that dead end job, working for someone else.

I wasn’t sure myself, and told her as much. She filled my head with ideas, saying that if I went to school in Chicago or NY that she could help get me an internship in music or business, that she saw a smart and determined individual in me, different from a lot of the people that are willing to settle in life. That I wasn’t going to be happy accepting the lot in life that I had placed for myself so far…

Yearly post... about time.

So I finally made it back to this place.

It's odd, I was walking around my neighborhood this evening and passed a cute boy who happened to do a double take as he walked past a pair of women holding hands.

This is Park Slope. Please move on. There are lesbians in the 'hood... just don't feed them.

I have nothing against lesbians, quite the contrary, I enjoy their company very much. I just think it's a funny fascination of most people. Live, girls, live.

Aside from that, a lot has changed since my last post. I finished reading Seven Pillars of Wisdom (months ago) and it was quite satisfying, if a bit long winded. I've also read several other books. I've been dating seriously for the first time. I started a full time job and have managed to keep it. A lot of friendships have developed exceedingly well and I'm more secure than ever. All in all, life is good... but for some reason I can't shake a feeling of stress. There is something within me that thrives on it, holds on to it, and can't let go. I'm not trying to invent stress, but maybe I do invite it. Passively...at least I'm beginning to recognize it, right?

A friend of mine said one of the most profound things today... she was concerned that one of her students was moving on, starting at a new high school and wouldn't have time to continue tutoring. While she was sad that her student of a few years was leaving, she said at the same time that she had to embrace it.

Maybe it was fate's way of telling her to move on, to not use obligations to others as a crutch for not pursuing new and possibly lucrative ambitions.

I admire her steadfastness and positive outlook on life... she is incredibly strong-willed and has what it takes to succeed in the world of writing. You can find her blog here.