phreddd: (Default)
Back to hating my (short-staffed, wondering where the other people who aren't trying to weasel out of work went) job again...
phreddd: (lightbulb)
Sleep deprivation is real, and I just had an encounter with it in the form of a customer who clearly needed to get some sleep before the 40 minutes of DSL support hell I just hung up from even had a chance to occur...
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I'm crying right now, and I don't know completely why... actually, that's not true. I do know, but it's best for a whole other entry.
phreddd: (other southpark)
Just finished tiling the bathroom floor with John - started about 10:30 this morning with lunch and beer breaks in between. Much like with the paint, we ran out mortar just at the end (so one shelf tile remains unattached as of right now, with grouting to commence sometime tomorrow evening or Tuesday).

I wanna sleep right now...
phreddd: (prowling lion)
The walls on the bathroom, kitchen, and "family room" have been drywalled and base-coated finally! We painted the bathroom last night - a color called "Azure Mist" (Big ol' bone to pick with John for going to Sprawl-Mart to purchase it, BTW.) that looks a lot like plain-old sky blue to me. BTW, one can of latex paint no longer goes quite as far as it used to in one compact space, as we scrambled to get those last little dips and drops of paint on by the end...

Anyway, working up that sweat eventually led to the best night of sleep I've had this week, given the humidity and such ( Not having laundry blocking part of the AC filter helped, too.). As a result, I'm in a somewhat good mood this morning, helped further by an instant-message session with my sister, with news that my nephew is still in one piece over in Baghdad - Hope/pray/what that it stays that way, because it's an escalating hot-ass mess over there of late if what "news" I've been following is any indication.
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Still kinda reeling from an email I got earlier this week after a weekend with my Minneapolis men - a very direct plea to get my shit together regarding my driving (after just missing some pedestrians while making a turn... and running a red light... and apparently hogging nearly every crosswalk I stopped at...) that seemed to only confirm that my prior decision to resume therapy was a good one.

This email was followed by a couple of phone calls with both Dave and Mark - both of whom are asserting that I should use today's stop at my therapist (a very positive - and necessary - visit in hindsight) as a gateway to much more intensive things, possibly with a prescription or two thrown in. We'll see about that; what I feel pretty sure of is that the relationships have changed a bit - for better or worse remains to be seen.
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The word "bittersweet" comes to mind on so many levels after Tuesday's vote here in Wisconsin. I'm glad a few more Democrats (incl. at least one new state Assembly member I hadn't planned on - YAY STEVE HILGENBERG FOR "THAWING" STEVE FREESE!!) got in, but another marriage amendment passes (It passed in Iowa County, where I currently live and vote, by 126 votes)...

As somebody who's lived in a few places, and was kinda ready to outstay my 4-year average, now I'm wondering why I should bother. I know John feels the same (Hell, he's only lived in this state 30 years, and been a homeowner for 28 of those years!! But he sucks dick -- usually mine-- so he and I are persona non grata in terms of having even minor legal protection for our relationship without jumping legal hoops last seen at Sea World.). Not that we were feeling marriage OR anything equivalent (Watching my parents up close during my childhood cured me of ever wanting as much as a stray hair from a marriage, thank you very much.), but to have such a healthy (not quite 60 percent) portion of the voters in the state where you earn your money and sleep most nights tell you that your preferred type of primary personal relationship is nothing hurts like hell!!

Legal challenges will follow, and I'll keep watching... whether I'll still be living in Wisconsin by the time there's a resolution remains to be seen, however.

I want to vomit (but at least I don't want quite so much to hurl a brick at anyone today - that said, folks with "One Man, One Woman"-type stickers on their cars had still better be careful...).
phreddd: (drinkie)

(That felt better.)
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I've been feeling very cranky as of late... like it's taking less and less to irritate me, and the sources of the irritation are people and places that used to bring me joy.

Truth be told, there's also one thing involved (my job) that hasn't always brought me much joy, but I still feel that this shouldn't be bothering me as much as I've let it.
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(The following statement was originally posted earlier today on the "Gay Men with Depression" tribe on Tribe as an answer to the question "What's so gay about depression?" - however, I decided to repost it here...)

In my case, it's these dueling feelings - that society sees me, "young and black and fine and gay" (to quote Audre Lorde), as a (varying degrees of) "valuable pelt"; but also that I have a cultural legacy/legacies that seem to have some social/commercial cachet that the larger culture wants little bits and pieces of. On top of that, I still have to try to live my own life, with all of the experiences (positive and negative) therein, within a society that has always preferred conformity to a strong degree despite platitudes and national constitutions claiming "freedom of..." or "freedom to..."

Everytime I have turned around, I get told or shown that my thoughts, my life, and my love of peace and comfort - and my feeling that others are entitled to the same - are less popular than I think it should be in this society that "liberty and justice" are supposed to be (on paper, at least) the bases of... and that lacking is something I take personally, maybe more than I probably should, to the point of letting it severely compromise the good relationships in my life - including the intimate ones with those men who love me and whom I should be loving as fully as I can in return.

Then again, not having been exposed to a sufficient amount of loving relationships in my much younger years (let alone loving relationshps involving someone of the same gender) and being overexposed to a lot of drama-bearing relationships that were less than healthy, how would I even know that you're supposed to REGULARLY do more than just say you love 'em and break off some dick-ass action every now and then? Of course, all that does is spread the bad feelings around, having the other partner(-s) wondering where things went wrong, if they were ever right to begin with.
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Reality... it escapes me much more often than I seem to be able to escape it.
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I just feel like I get taken through some shit at times... challenged on a level I wasn't expecting when I woke up that particular morning. On those days, I take making it to bed in a place other than an alley or a jail as a victory.

Now, honestly there were some achievements today - the day at work began with me successfully programming a full set of cable remotes properly on the first attempt.

BUt there's also the memory of my final call of the day - damn near losing a customer's email through complete stubbornness!

This evening, John talked me into attending a debate on gay marriage... and I felt some heat all over the audience, and in me, too. It took a lot not to slide out of one of those Fluevogs and hurl it at the "gentleman" representing Focus on (Fucking Over) the Family - and by the way, I can now say that I have seen a haarrrrrrd right-winger wearing Birkenstocks (taupe suede Bostons, if you cared)! I can think of a few images more unsettling than that one... but for someone who watches politics and men's shoes, that was one I could've done without. The fact that he sounded like he was whining all throughout his speaking, trying to obscure or just shout down salient points by the other debater (and looked like a lesbian college professor, although the actual lesbian college professors in the theater probably wanted to beat him down about 15 minutes in) was equally unwelcome.
phreddd: (Default)
I'm a little disgusted about little things today - my health (My doctor seriously wants me to lose at least 15 pounds, figuring it will get the cholesterol, blood sugar, and other things under control. It was a depressing visit, for reasons I won't go into here, but depressing enough to send the message.) and the state of the nation (Bush did an end-around on John Bolton - he is now the US ambassador to the UN, like it or not. I don't like it one bit, for the record.) are topping the list.

In better news, I called my mom, and she said the house sale went final on July 15 (which had to make her somewhat happy). Also, John and I got a new slow-cooker last week, and we made a nice, vegetable-laced roast over the weekend.
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Some people have told me that I spend a lot of my thinking time "in my own head." I admit, I can get veeerrry self-involved sometimes.

Last night, for example, I was pondering my relationships at this point in life, especially the intimate ones. At one point while I was doing laundry, my thoughts drifted to the one time I ever ended a relationship - with my first boyfriend Eddie when I was 16 - and how ugly it still feels almost 20 years after the fact.

That particular breakup, as early as it came in my gay (and dating) life, may have been one of the events that seriously damaged my relationship with my father. That will happen when somebody who's had your penis in his mouth once or twice makes random, borderline harassing phone calls to your phone number when you're not at home, but your father - convalescing after a severe diabetic episode - and your grandmother - who has told you she's convinced homosexuality is a conscious choice, and one she has issues with - are. And the only way to stop him is to scream bloody murder at him into the phone one fall Friday night... which gets him to stop calling, but also has him calling you "arrogant" and "inconsiderate" to your friends and anyone else who'll listen (not the biggest deal now at 34, but straight-up embarrassing at 16).

Since then, I've been the dumped instead of the dumper in large part - and it's a position that I much prefer. If (when?) I had to end a relationship now, would I even have the skill to navigate it without the drama and the harassment?

In other events, I'm looking forward to the Rewey fireworks tonight after work (and the jerk chicken I'm making for the potluck at Susan's beforehand) and some other busy-ness between now and my departure for MMF on Wednesday morning.
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A few hours ago, I got grief from my boss for trying to rig additional network access to my iBook at the office in a way that would give a certain other manager more ammunition with which to club both of us over the head.

As it turns out, I hid the CAT5 cable (50 feet of it running from my cubicle to the next) and got out of there a second ahead of the Smelly Beast ("SB")'s regular patrol of the Tech Support area. SB is ticked because of a couple of occasions where she caught me shouting obscenities (with the MUTE button on, mind you. As if it mattered; SB's daughter's office is within earshot, so I got busted... frequently.); nonetheless, they were waiting for a bigger blowup - which I provided in June of last year, when I airmailed one of the dress Fluevogs into a wall during a call with an especially abusive customer. Since then, I (and my entire department, since SB can't stand that we don't report to her) have been on a watch for bad behavior and misappropriation of company resources. Needless to say, any MP3's and such come with me, and typically leave with me at the end of the day).

Took a walk at lunchtime (in 91-degree heat... OUCH!), and that calmed me down a bit. Nonetheless, the Mary Kay-esque stench that straightens my frizzy neck hairs looms in the distance...
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In the middle of cleaning out my car before I drop it off at the mechanic.The kind, gentle part ends here... )
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How do I end the week I decide to reduce my coffee intake?read more )
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Growing up with parents and other relatives who never really tried to bring anything other than conflict into each other's lives, I always automaticallyassumed that everybody else's circle of family and friends and such got along better. Living in a small town these past few years has brought more than a few challenges to that assumption, since most of John's and my friends seem to have segments of the community about whom they frequently have some less-than-pleasant things to say. John does it, too - after all, living in a place for 30 years produces those kind of relationships (and relationship breakdowns).

Last Saturday showed that "rule" and one of its numerous exceptions. The rule, in my estimation, was heading up to Spring Green with John for a graduation party for two of his nieces - one from eighth grade, one from high school. John's family always seemed like they got along... not robotically well, but well enough to ride some rough shit and still be able to be civil to each other, and anybody brought into the family. Friends and family all around, and (even though the food was real good this time) a good time was had by all who attended (It didn't hurt that there was a Cubs game on throughout, followed by a tape of a school play, "The Three-Piggy Opera," featuring the oldest of the Greenwood great-grandchildren as the Wolf.).

Contrast that with the Fire Department steak feed that evening back in Point. Things went well; we got our dinner and all. Some older lady came up to say hi to John; he said, "Hi, Gerda" and that would seem to have been nothing special. On the way back to the car, he told me who the woman was, and explained why he didn't want to introduce me (a cascade of personal beefs, some related to the theater group in town, some related to the woman's daughter and son-in-law; I only knew the son-in-law, and let's just say he doesn't think highly of John and me being a couple.). I asked him for some details (my inner gossip-hound!), and let's just say I got more than I asked for, as well as another excuse to ask John what it is about his circle of friends and their concentric circles that makes falling out with each other so damn easy.

I wonder what other rhetorical questions are still out there, just waiting for fools like me to act like they have real, concrete answers?
phreddd: (Default)
Anal-retentive behavior on the part of (music, film, etc.) festival volunteers sucks ass.

(This means you, Isthmus Jazz Festival, for shooing out people who had just sat down to wait for the next act just because the last act was just finishing up!). Who made retired (fill in the blank)s God?


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September 2017

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