47. Contact

“You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you’re not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we’ve found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other.” – Contact (1997)

Sorry I’ve been away so much… not that anyone has noticed, I’m sure. Other things have taken priority over blogging, like my health, relationships, and life in general. Life has been especially crazy lately, work and teaching being two major factors.

Lately the realisation is growing on me that I’m entering my late 20s as a single man. Still not really sure what that means, but I know at the very least that it means that I’ve set Thanksgiving as a target date for no longer being a single guy.

So I just want to share a couple of thoughts and quotes before bed.

A couple of weeks ago I finally saw Up In The Air, and was rather taken aback at what a perceptive and sensitive commentary it is on modern relationships and the toll that American individualism has taken on Americans who value self-sufficiency and security above all else. Yet the yearning remains for belonging and acceptance. We’re funny creatures.

I was especially struck by this comment by one of the characters, Alex, mid-way through the film:

By the time you’re thirty four, all the physical requirements are pretty much out the window. I mean, you secretly pray he’ll be taller than you. Not an asshole would be nice. Just someone who enjoys my company. Comes from a good family. You don’t think about that when you’re younger. Wants kids… Likes kids. Wants kids. Healthy enough to play catch with his future son one day.

Please don’t let him earn more than I do. That doesn’t make sense now, but believe me, it will one day. Otherwise it’s just a recipe for disaster. Hopefully some hair on his head? But it’s not exactly a deal-breaker anymore. Nice smile… yep, a nice smile just might do it . . .

By the time someone is right for you, it won’t feel like settling… And the only person left to judge you will be the twenty-four year-old girl with a target on your back.

All that really got me thinking about the key qualities that I’m looking for in a future partner; because the older I get, the more I realise that the stuff that seemed vital, even six months ago, really isn’t all that big of a deal. The stuff that matters now is that which will matter over time, as we get older. For example, politics used to be a big deal to me. A staunch Libertarian, it was imperative that I be with someone like-minded. But now, I’d be willing to passionately fight about politics and values, but at the end of the day set it aside because loving each other matters so much more than stupid differences over who we support. I just want to feel a head on my shoulder at night as we fall asleep, because that’s what will matter over time. That’s what it is to be human.

So, remembering that looks fade and life’s a bitch: the stuff that really matter at the end of the day for me come down to about four things:

1. Deep and lasting faith in God.
2. Insatiable curiosity about everything.
3. Unquenchable passion for life.
4. Nice smile. And likes kids.

Sorry, this is heavy stuff for the weekend.

46. company

Lately blogging just hasn’t been a huge priority, life taking primacy. This whole health care debacle has me reeling, trying not to freak out and plan out some sort of response to what lately has been increased government intrusion into our lives. I gave my roommate specific instructions not to give out any information on me on the Census apart from the fact that I live there, as per the Census Act of 1790. For me, the Constitution trumps everything. Presidents and lawmakers come and go—the Constitution has stood firm for 222 years. That says something.

So with the arrival of Spring comes the arrival of a new guy in my life. And, as seems to be the way with me, he lives all the way out in Seattle. There just aren’t any decent guys in the Cities, especially those who have managed to hold onto their Christian faith and still take it seriously, and of all issues that’s my dealbreaker. I did meet this new guy online, though it wasn’t planned that way. He seemed like an interesting guy and I was curious how he’d managed to work through a lot of the issues that we face as Christian gay men. We struck up a conversation, emailing back and forth for a few days, then moving to IM, and last week we started talking on the phone. And I really like him, and he seems to really like me.

Perhaps I should say seemed… because he’s disappeared, and I have no idea to where.

Last Friday we talked for a bit after he got off work (he’s two hours behind Central time) and was about to drive home, and when I called to check on him he was on his way to the ER to get a nasty cut taken care of and then fill out paperwork. He sent a text at 9:42pm saying “Sorry this is taking so long” and then the grid went silent. He wasn’t online, he wasn’t answering his phone, he wasn’t responding to texts. Sometimes his phone is on, sometimes it goes straight to voicemail.

So I don’t know what to think right now. I’ve left enough messages and sent enough texts now that he knows I’m concerned. There’s a chance he had to go to New York for work, but I’d like to think that he’d tell me about that. My imagination is running wild, and after a conversation with my sister yesterday my confidence is even more shaken.

The added confusion is that I found the company he works for online and decided to see if they knew anything. They’d never heard of him. So now I really don’t know what to think, but there’s a lot that doesn’t add up with all this, and until/if he calls back, we’ll never know. If he does, I’ll have some questions for him. If he doesn’t, then we’ll know that he was shady business.

My younger sister doesn’t understand why this is such a big deal, “finding someone.” I pointed out that she was in Our Town, in which one of the characters observes, “People are meant to go through life two by two. ’Tain’t natural to be lonesome.”

When it comes down to it, what I’m longing for is true, intimate companionship—and she had the nerve to give me the dictionary definition of the word. (She’s 22, by the way, and very cynical about relationships.) Friends and family are fine and well, but it’s nice to have someone close. She seems to think my angst is about needing someone, and she believes you must have your shit all together before you can be in a relationship. Personally, I know that I’m a mess, but I’m willing to own up to that and my selfishness, to give 100% to whoever I’m with, and deal with the dross that will come to the surface (and it will).

On top of all this, the antiobiotic I’ve been taking for the last two weeks for the respiratory infection of doom has inexplicably caused an allergic reaction in the form of angry red, blotchy hives that now cover my body. My ears feel enormous. My face, arms, hands and legs itch like mad! It looks like a nasty sunburn that just irritates the hell out of me.

What irritated me even more is that when I called the nurse helpline, right before she started the interview to figure out what was wrong, she wanted me to know about options that Obamacare offers for health and wellness (or some bullshit like that).

Moral of the story: this is all Obama’s fault.

45. monologue

He’s a very smart Prince.

He’s a Prince who prepares. Knowing this time I’d run from him, he spread pitch on the stairs. I was caught unawares. And I thought: well, he cares.

This is more than just malice! Better stop and take stock while you’re standing here stuck on the steps of the palace.

You think, what do you want? You think, make a decision. Why not stay and be caught? You think, well, it’s a thought. What would be his response? But then what if he knew who you were when you know that you’re not what he thinks that he wants?

And then what if you are what a Prince would envision? Although how can you know who you are till you know what you want, which you don’t, so then which do you pick: Where you’re safe, out of sight, and yourself, but where everything’s wrong? Or where everything’s right and you know that you’ll never belong?

And whichever you pick, do it quick, ’cause you’re starting to stick to the steps of the palace.

It’s your first big decision, the choice isn’t easy to make. To arrive at a ball is exciting and all– once you’re there, though, it’s scary. And it’s fun to deceive when you know you can leave, but you have to be wary. There’s a lot that’s at stake, but you’ve stalled long enough, ’cause you’re still standing stuck in the stuff on the steps…

Better run along home, and avoid the collision. Even though they don’t care, you’ll be better of there where there’s nothing to choose, so there’s nothing to lose. So you pry up your shoes.

Then from out of the blue, and without any guide, you know what your decision is, which is not to decide. You’ll just leave him a clue: for example, a shoe. And then see what he’ll do. Now it’s he and not you who is stuck with a shoe, in a stew, in the goo, and you’ve learned something, too, something you never knew, on the steps of the palace.

– Stephen Sondheim, from Into the Woods

44. popomo

Sorry for the gap in communication. Between finishing a hectic February and coming down with the Plague (which, turns out was a nasty strain of B or C strep throat and not mono), there hasn’t been much time for writing. And I’m doing more practising, so that takes up time right there.

If you have time, check out my new favourite blog over at http://fucktheory.tumblr.com. My friend Justin turned me on to it, and the guy who writes it has a pretty interesting concept and conceit going. So now it’s on my Google Reader, and it’s a neat bite-sized chunk of philosophical musing to provoke some pondering.

Today he posted this: “Has postmodern irony made camp obsolete? Or is postmodern irony itself a mode of camp?”

I have a rudimentary grasp of philosophy (at best), so these are statements that make me feel like I’m not sitting at the Cool Kid’s table. So I had to go and Google “postmodern irony” because I have no idea what that even means. I barely know what “postmodern” means, and a vague grasp of the definition of “irony.” (Justin and I are discussing that right now.) And this was posted over at everything2.com by “Tsarren” [citation to follow]:

What happens when you take postmodernism a bit too far? The basic tenet of postmodernism is that we need to be aware that everything we do is subjective, no matter how much we strive for objectivity. We are always making assumptions, and we need to examine these assumptions and their origins in order to more fully understand whatever it is we’re thinking about. If you take it too far, you end up with something like, “if everything is colored by our assumptions and we have no way of being truly objective, then how can we ever find the truth? What’s the point of studying anything if we can never really know anything for sure about it?” This is a pretty useless attitude. A dash of postmodernism here and there is good, because it forces us to look at where we’re coming from. Too much, and that’s all you’ll taste. Kind of like pepper.

But it made me realise—I’m post-postmodern!!