Category Archives: Personal Updates

Is It Worth It?

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This isn’t some kind of deep, soul-searching blog post.  Please don’t let the title fool you.  I’m kicking around a financial decision and I could use some advice/input from my friends.

I have two $10,000 life insurance policies that my Mother took out when I was in elementary school and passed on to me.  If I’m reading the paperwork correctly, at the age of 36 these policies that are probably close to 30 years old have amassed a whopping cash value of $596 each.  I pay $18.20 quarterly for each of these policies, so I’m shelling out $145.60 a year to maintain them.

I have PMI on my mortgage that is paid monthly, so if the worst were to happen the house would be paid for.  On top of that I have a sizable life insurance policy through work that I pay extra to have increased.  It is set up to be split between Alex, Krystalle and Jareth if.  It wouldn’t be enough to set them up for life, but the house would be paid for and Krystalle could make sure all of my debts were paid off and they would all still have a decent cushion for a while.

I’ve always looked at the two $10k life insurance policies as my “funeral” policies.  That money would probably cover the funeral and subsequent mad party I have requested should I shake off this mortal coil.  In the grand scheme of things, that money is a pretty small drop in the bucket and won’t come near covering what my other policies do.

All of this leads to my question – If you were me, would you continue paying for the two policies or would you cash them in and use that money to pay down debts (or, more likely, pay off the new debt incurred by Christmas)?

Remembering Mark Trent

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On Thursday morning I heard that an associate of mine named Mark Trent passed away.

I couldn’t make the claim that I knew Mark very well. We were in Maxwell together back in the early part of 2002, and I’ve seen him a few times since then. We were close in the way that two people who genuinely like each other but don’t cross paths a lot in their every day lives are (the way I am with pretty much all of the Jobsite crew, to be honest). His death didn’t affect me so much in the sense that I felt that I lost a close friend, but I feel that the world lost a genuinely good person.

Mark was a genuinely good person, and a damned talented entertainer. Working with him was a pleasure and I had always hoped to do so again in the future.

I will not, unfortunately, have that opportunity.

There was a memorial for him last night that I had planned to attend, but the illness that has been dogging me for the last few days decided to rear it’s ugly head again last night. I was in bed by 8:30 and slept through the whole night. I had a tribute of my own, though, the day I heard of his passing. I put in my Maxwell soundtrack and remembered the experiences I had with Mark during that process. I cried. A lot. More than I really thought I would have.

I’m just tired of burying my friends. I’ve been so to many funerals already in my life. I know people my age who have never even been to a funeral, but I’ve been to more than I can recall. So many good people passing on.

Mark was the first homosexual that Alex was directly exposed to. He had met them before, but the issue had never really come up. At one point, however, we were talking about Tara and Willow in “Buffy The Vampire Slayer.” Alex mentioned them kissing and said it was gross. When I asked him why he told me it was because “girls weren’t supposed to kiss girls.” I explained to Alex that it was not gross, and that there was nothing wrong with same sex relationships. I used Mark and Peter as an example, as Alex had been exposed to them quite a bit and they had all gotten along quite well. I can’t think of a better person to have used as evidence that there was no reason to fear or distrust someone just because they had a different preference than us.

Mind you, this is the conversation that led Alex to declare that he was gay. “I love you,” he said, “and you’re a boy. So I must be gay.”

I had to clear that one up. I asked him to wait a few years before he made that decision.

From what I heard, Mark fought hard for his life at the end. Much like others who were following the saga, I didn’t expect to hear that he had died at all. It just didn’t seem possible. Mark was too strong willed to let death overcome him. I truly thought there was no way that he wouldn’t pull out of it.

Now he’s gone, and his loss is felt keenly by many here in the Tampa Bay area.

Present company included.

Rest well, Mark. You will be missed.

—

Just as an update for all of you who have been concerned : I am still sick. I do not believe that I have the flu. I thought I did at one point, but I’m pretty sure that was just a headache. The cold has moved down to my chest now and I’m coughing a lot, but I have definitely improved. I am going back to work today. My co-worker Dawn is over in Europe right now, so I won’t be directly exposed to someone and risk getting them ill. I’ll just try to keep to myself and not make anyone else sick. Unfortunately I don’t think it will be any warmer at the office. Last time I was there it was really cold, and last week my boss was complaining to me that his fingers were going numb.

What is it with offices not wanting to use the heat anyway??

I have a few space heaters on order and they should arrive on Wednesday. Just in time for things to be warm again. At least if it gets cold Wednesday night or Thursday morning I’ll have some way to warm up the rooms while company is here.

Wow. It’s only two days until Christmas Eve. I have several things still in the mail that I really hope get here in time. Tonight I have to start power cleaning my house to get things ready. I’ll finish up the cleaning tomorrow night and hit the grocery store on Wednesday when I get off of work (we only have a half day). There should be a pretty decent turn out on Wednesday night.

Sorry if this has been a disjointed entry, but I’m still kind of out of it. Hopefully I can get some work done today.

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One day machines will do all of man’s work for him…

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There is no possible way I can make this a short entry. So much has happened in the last few weeks, and every time I think I need to sit down and start writing about it something else happens that needs to be mentioned as well. So I apologize if this particular entry gets a little on the long-winded side, gang, but there is a lot of ground to cover.

“Maxwell” opened on January 4th here in Tampa to two rave reviews and a really horrid one. Like Meat Loaf states so eloquently, however, two out of three ain’t bad. Our second night was commemorated by a young man here in Tampa attempting to repeat the events of September 11th by ramming a small passenger plane into the Bank of America building in downtown Tampa. It was a totally surreal experience, especially for our composer, Joe Popp. He was about half a mile away from the World Trade Center when it was attacked, and here he was in Tampa and someone was flying planes into buildings again. I wonder, though, if the group of people in the show were just more cynical than the average bear or if we are already becoming numb to the effects of terrorism on our country. It didn’t take us long to start cracking jokes about the event, mostly around the fact that if it WAS a terrorist attack it was a pretty lame one. I mean the kid gets 10 out of 10 for the target but minus a million for the timing. I think there were all of maybe 5 people in that building.

For me personally, however, the attacks have taken on a new meaning, but I’ll get to that later.

On Wednesday, January 30th we got on a plane and took the show to New York City.

I always knew I would love New York. For some reason, I’ve always felt a pull towards it. I just didn’t know I would love it as much as I did. Every minute I spent there was filled with a kind of energy that is hard to describe. Like the city itself is alive. I’ve never felt more instantly comfortable in a place.

Wednesday night I met up with Barry at the airport and we took a cab back to his place. After dropping off my stuff we went to meet his girlfriend Colette at a Caribbean restaurant not far from their apartment, and there I had probably the best meal I ate during my trip (and I had a LOT of good food). They had this fresh ginger beer that they make in the restaurant that absolutely blew me away. Our waitress was this incredibly beautiful African-American woman who looked like she should be modeling clothes in Paris and not waiting tables in Brooklyn.

So after dinner we go back to the apartment and things suddenly go a little sour. Colette works a Monday through Friday job that has her getting up at 6 AM in the morning. Barry was going out of town again on Thursday, and their apartment is really small. So Colette kind of freaked out and basically told us that there was no way she could handle me staying there. Thing is, I can totally understand where she was coming from. I didn’t get in earlier than 4 on and of the nights that I was in New York, and to have me tromping around while she’s trying to sleep just would have been horrid for her. So, in the midst of this apologizing and freaking out she tells us that she rented me a room at a place called the Leo House in Manhattan. The Leo House is a hotel run by nuns that was designed to help people who can’t afford to stay in fancy places. For 62 bucks a night you get a bed, a toilet, and a shared shower. It even includes cable television. Barry was totally embarrassed and couldn’t stop apologizing, but to me the accommodations were fine. I had my own space that I could come and go as I pleased in, and I didn’t have to pay for it. What more could I ask? I know Colette felt really bad about doing that to me, but to be quite honest I think I was happier with those arrangements.

So after I got settled in at the Leo House Barry and I went to a bar called the Lake Side lounge to hook up with John Cecil and some of the “Maxwell” cast. It was a pretty crowded little place, and they were playing really shitty music Barry, John and I bailed out and went to a place called the Ace Bar. Apparently, this place is pretty famous. John said a lot of the movie “200 Cigarettes” was filmed there. I liked the place. It wasn’t too terribly crowded but it was definitely busy, and the music was much better. So over the course of many drinks I played catch-up with John and Barry. After a few rounds, Barry bailed out on us so John and I decided to go do a little more exploring.

Keep in mind this is 2:30 in the morning. Here in Tampa, things are dead. There it felt like it was 10 PM.

We went to another bar, whose name escapes me at the moment, and had a round with a genuine Irish bartender. There I learned about some of the crazy laws up in New York. Get this – the bars are allowed to be open until 4 AM, but you aren’t allowed to dance in them. I actually saw two people get told to stop dancing one night at the Ace Bar! I wasn’t really clear on why this rule was in effect, but it apparently has something to do with Guliani cracking down on rave clubs.

After we left that bar we walked over past Union Square station and went to an all night diner called Cozy’s. There I had yet another excellent meal in the Big Apple. One thing got to me about New York restaurants. The service was very fast, up until you got your food. I mean, I think one night we got our meal in less than five minutes. It takes FOREVER to get your check, though! I mean you practically have to grab these people to get them to take your money. Here in Florida they check on you every five minutes. Oh yeah, and the Cole slaw in New York totally sucks. Don’t try it.

So I finally rolled in around 5:30 that morning and crashed almost immediately.

I woke up around 11 and took a quick shower. I had to be over to the art space in Brooklyn by 3, and I thought I might get some sight seeing in before hand. That didn’t turn out to be the case, though. I was too nervous I would get lost and we had a lot of work to do that day. So I stopped and got a bagel and coffee on the way to the Subway and went directly to the theater (note : when ordering a bagel in New York, make sure you tell them you want it toasted if that’s the case. If not, they assume otherwise). I arrived at the Galapagos Art Space about one that afternoon. We spent the rest of that day getting the set put together and working out the nuances of the show in a new house. We had to make several changes to our entrances and some of our staging. The space was considerably smaller than the one in Tampa (which isn’t saying much) and we didn’t have as many places where we could get on to the stage. We managed to work it out, though, and had a decent run through at 9 that night. After the run I went to the Ace Bar again and met with John and some of his comic book geek friends for another night of drinking and ribaldry. The gang I met that night was a pretty decent one, even if the couple that was there were a little full of themselves. Mind you, in my experience I haven’t come across many really hot oriental women who dig comic books, but there is only so far that goes towards making you queen of the world, ya know? One of the guys I met there was the nephew of Klaus Fluoride from the Dead Kennedys (whom I already had tickets to go see the next Friday, ironically) and told some interesting stories growing up with that kind of influence in his life. We went to breakfast at a place called Odessa, where I had some awesome Pirogi and a really tasty Santorini Hamburger (hamburger with spinach and feta cheese on it). Got in, again, around 5 that morning and passed out again.

The next day I slept in until 3 and didn’t feel guilty about it at all. We were opening that night in New York and the last thing I wanted was to be tired. After cleaning myself up I made my way towards Brooklyn again. I did a little exploratory walking near my hotel, and got a slice of genuine New York pizza while doing so. To my surprise, I discovered that I’ve been eating it for years. Dal’Italia pizza here in St. Petersburg has always made the claim to be New York style, and they were right. In fact, I think Dal’Italia has better stuff than what I had.

Once I got to Brooklyn I stopped and got some Sushi, then went to the art space again. Friday night was the worst night there as far as the weather was concerned. It was cold and rainy pretty much the whole time, but that night the winds were really harsh. At the arts space the dressing rooms were basically a plywood covered section of the alley between two buildings, and we spent the whole night freezing our asses off. They managed to get some of the holes covered and put a space heater in there on Saturday, but for Friday all we could do was huddle and suffer. What made it worse was that we held the show for almost 15 minutes before opening, and then Joe (in a semi-drunken state) made a HUGE curtain speech. All told, it was almost an hour after we had warmed up before we went on. An hour of sitting back stage and being cold. All that aside, however, the show went very well. John and his girlfriend Lisa came to see us that night, and afterward I spent a long time talking to them about what they thought of the show. They had a lot to say, and it wasn’t all complimentary. Ironically, a lot of it was stuff that had been said to me by the director, ranney, all along. Things that he said to me would be noticed by audiences that were paying attention. Things that he said might work in Tampa but wouldn’t fly in New York. Some of the stuff actually pissed John off. To the point where he said that if those things had gone on in a show that he was involved in he would have fired someone (or kicked their ass). I think they felt bad about going off as much as they did, but I’m not the kind of person who only wants to hear the good stuff. You don’t get better if you don’t know what to improve on. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your take of what I just said) they thought I did a great job.

Or they were just being kind.

Again I went out gallivanting with John and Lisa afterwards, and we made our way to Odessa again for another late night breakfast. I made it home relatively early that night (around 4).

I woke up around 10 the next morning and decided I was going to do my sightseeing. I showered quickly, got a bagel and coffee, and made my way to the Subway. I rode to Chambers street and got off to head towards the World Trade Center. After getting a little lost (and subsequently saved by a timely phone call from Colette) I managed to find it.

So there I stood. Looking at this huge area of Manhattan that was just…empty. Most of “the pile” has been cleared away, and you can only see it from certain angles. I didn’t want to wait 3 hours to stand on the observation platform, so I walked around the area just trying to get glimpses of what I could. Most of what I got was a feeling that something was just missing. It was wrong. Like in the middle of this huge urban area there was this black hole. I guess that’s a pretty apt description. I saw some very moving things. I saw all the cards and pictures hung up by the families of the victims. I saw people crying. I saw the damage done to the surrounding buildings. I saw some of the rescue workers on breaks, looking tired and sad. I saw a sign that someone erected that was reminiscent of those road signs you always see in war movies. You know the ones, I’m sure. It had directional arrows pointing to different cities with the miles to them on it. The last arrow said “Hell – 0 Miles.” That kind of chilled me.

I didn’t cry, though. I didn’t feel much of anything. Just kind of numb shock. I wondered if for some reason it didn’t affect me.

I was wrong. Since then I’ve been more susceptible to the images and memories of September 11th. I’ve caught myself crying a few times. I’ve seen the damage it did to the city, and to the people there. I sat with John as he fought tears while talking about someone he knew that died that day, because “those bastards” weren’t going to get him to cry. I heard so many stories about the stench, and the horror, and the feeling of unreality. I took some of that with me. Someone I met there told me that I couldn’t possibly understand what it felt like to be in the city that day, and to be completely honest I’m glad.

After I left Ground Zero I went to Battery Park and took the Staten Island Ferry past the Statue of Liberty. It was really, really cold on the front of the boat but I stood out there long enough to get a few pictures and just marvel at how cool it was to be seeing what in person something I’ve seen probably millions of times in my life. I got back off the ferry and walked a few miles up Broadway and past Wall Street, just getting a feeling of the city and seeing what I could see.

I finally got back on the subway and made it over to Brooklyn. Stopped to get a bite to eat at a place called the Gray Parrot and meandered to the Arts Space.

That night was probably our roughest one of the run. David and Ami both got sick, and David almost completely lost his voice. I felt really bad for him, because he was trying to hard to get it out and just couldn’t do it. By the time we were done it was hard to hear him on stage, much less in the audience. We didn’t let it stop us, though, and again we had a great show. Barry and Colette came to see the show that night, and we all stayed afterwards to drink and listen to Joe do an acoustic set.

That was when I met Leslie.

John had told me that there were a lot of single women in New York, but I really didn’t expect to meet one in a bar. Sure enough, though, she struck up a conversation with me while we were waiting for drinks and over the course of the evening we started talking more. She moved to New York six years ago from Orlando, and she works for Blue Man Group. We talked a lot in the bar that night, and that was where I heard the most about the effects of September 11th on an individual. She really opened up with how she felt about the events of that day. It was really moving to have a relative stranger let me know so much about what went through her head that day.

We talked for a long time at the bar, and then decided to go get breakfast. When she found out I hadn’t been to Times Square yet, she insisted that we go there. I am so grateful that she did. Seeing Times Square at 2 AM was like being in a scene from the movie “Blade Runner.” Huge electronic billboards were everywhere, and even that late there were tons of people on the street. What’s funny is that Leslie said that it was slow that night. Strangely enough, we couldn’t find a place to eat so we went back to her place in Queens. We took a taxi to get there, and that is where I had my frightening taxi experience. Those guys are nuts!!!

Back at her place we continued to talk, and I found out more about her. She showed me some of her poetry, and talked about a childrens book that she is writing. I found out that we had a lot in common as far as our taste in books and movies (she had Kurt Vonnegut’s “Hocus Pocus” next to “Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency” by Douglas Adams next to each other on her book shelf – two of my all time favorite books). We sat up until 6:30 AM getting to know each other before I finally had to head back into the city. It was hard to leave, but she was tired and I had to be at breakfast with Barry and Colette in a few hours.

Meeting Leslie was one of the high points of my trip. I know that must sound odd considering the fact that I saw old friends and got to perform on stage up there, but it’s true. She was a really awesome person, and part of me is sad that she lives so far away. I’d really like to spend more time with her. I plan on keeping in touch, though, and when I visit again I’ll definitely check in and see how she is doing.

I got absolutely no sleep that night. I made it back to my hotel around 8 in time to clean up, pack my bags, check out and head towards the airport. I stopped and had the previously mentioned breakfast with Barry and Colette first, then jumped back on the subway to go to JFK.

Our ragged crew got back on the plane and flew home (minus one…Christen missed the flight and had to catch a later one). We were all really trashed, but I didn’t find out until we got home why some of them were particularly down. Jason’s mother had died the night before. He found out a little while after curtain that night. She had been sick for a while, and it wasn’t totally unexpected, but it still must have been rough to have that happen while he was away. When Dad died, I was there. I heard him die, in fact.

Now that I think about it, I’m not sure which is worse.

So that’s the end of the New York saga, but I have more to write about! Tired of reading yet???

Two nights after I got back I got into a wicked fight with Jody about not spending enough time with Alex. I know that, over the last month, things have been a little rough because of “Maxwell” and I’ve been feeling enough guilt about it as it was. She said some really harsh things, though, and it really got me going. Ami had come over to pick up her computer from me, and unfortunately she was here while I was going off on the phone on the back porch. I don’t like people seeing that side of me. I don’t like the fact that there is even a “that side of me.” I’m a passionate person, and while it takes a lot to really get me angry when I get going there is a lot that comes out. I called Jody later and apologized for the really mean things I said, and we were able to talk about the issue more rationally. I really think that she is putting her own perceptual filter on a lot of what Alex says and does. She also doesn’t give him credit for being manipulative, which he is. I don’t think she likes that word, because she sees it as being negative. I agree with her, to an extent. It’s negative when it’s malicious. I think Alex just knows what to say and do to get the results he wants, he doesn’t realize he’s doing something unkind. I know she has his best interests in mind, and I DO have to make up some time with my son, but I don’t think the situation is nearly as bad as she thinks it is.

That would have been where this ended, but one other funky thing happened I want to write about. Last night, after seeing the Dead Kennedys at Jannus Landing (great show…the new lead singer really kicks ass) Barry (who is in town for a few days) and I went to the Castle in Ybor. At one point I was standing at the bar and I started feeling really funny. I got nauseous and dizzy, and I suddenly had tunnel vision. Barry came over to ask me how I was and the next thing I knew I had hit the ground. I passed out! I wasn’t drunk, either! I had hardly started to drink. What’s really scary is that this isn’t the first time it’s happened. I was in a club with Spike a few months ago and something similar occurred. I just didn’t pass out that time.

It’s got me kind of worried. I mean, I was in the hospital twice for what they thought were strokes. They decided in the end that I hadn’t had strokes, but what if they were wrong??? Did I have another one last night? And why in a club? The loud music? The lights? The smoke? The white makeup and black clothing?

I’d go see a doctor about it but, yet again, I still have no insurance. Blah. Oh yeah, and things at work are already starting to look shaky. They’re cutting my hours by four next week. Not sure how long this wagon is going to roll.

Well, I didn’t want to end this on a down note but that’s what happened most recently. All in all, I’m loving life again. I can’t wait to get involved in another show. I made some great friends and really opened up myself again. I want to get back to NYC soon, too. I’ve been talking with my friend Maria about it, and we might try to fly up for a few days in the summer.

So that’s it for now, gang. Thanks for reading. Here’s to what life brings me next!

To Babylon!!!

Whew!

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Thank God it’s over.

It’s been an interesting year, to say the very least. I have documented many of my exploits here, but I haven’t even touched the surface of what happened to me since December 31st, 2000. I’ve had some wonderful things happen to me, and I’ve had some horrible things happen to me, and I’ve had a lot that lingered somewhere in between. It’s been a long year. It’s been a year that has made me feel older than I have ever felt in my life, and yet there are parts of me that have been reborn. I could go on and on with the Tale of Two Cities intro, but that is a worn out cliche and I just want to get to summarizing this year so I can put it past me.

So let’s begin.

The most obvious (and often mentioned) change that I have gone through is my weight loss. 137 pounds as of last week (but I’ve got one more party to go through this year, so that number may come in less as of tomorrow). It’s hard to describe how incredibly different I feel now. I can go out in public and not be stared at quite so much. I can buy inexpensive clothing at large retail chains. I can walk up a flight of stairs or down the street without having to catch my breath. I can have sex without feeling like I’m going to have a heart attack. I can see a woman look twice at me and not instantly convince myself that it was my imagination (or the shock of revulsion). I have, however, come up with one nasty side effect from it. Seems as though the lack of fat in my leg has allowed a bony growth that is just under my right knee to rub my inner leg workings wrong, leading to some rather uncomfortable moments over the last few months. You take the good with the bad, I suppose. I’d have it checked out, but I don’t have any insurance.

Why?

Because I got laid off back in August. My dream job at Stone Ground Solutions went away when the economy started to go South. I don’t blame them at all. Business is business, and I was honestly spending most of my days doing nothing by the time they let me go. It still sucked, though. It came at the absolute worst time. I was just on the verge of really getting my finances straightened out, and I ended up blowing all my savings to pay the bills for the next few months. I landed a contract that lasted a month right after I was severed, but from September until a few weeks ago I was totally out of work and living off of unemployment checks. If you can call it that. I understand that the unemployment program is not supposed to be a complete income, and that they don’t want you to decide just to live on them, but it amazes me that they think I could make just about 1/3 of what I was making before and survive. I’m back to work now, however, with the company I worked for before I was laid off. Yes, I know. I’ve rambled here about how much I hated working there. I was very reluctant to come back. I’m making a considerable amount more than I was when I worked here before, though (which was always my biggest beef) and there is some new blood running the place. It feels different. More professional. Certainly more organized. Oh yeah, and beggars can’t be choosers. I’m not making as much as I was with Stone Ground, but I’m making enough to get by. That’s much better than unemployment.

I’ve completed my first semester now that I’m back in school, and I’m proud to report that I managed to get A’s in all of my classes. I gave my Grade Point Average a MAJOR upgrade from a 2.595 to a 3.10, and I think I set the foundation for continued success over the next few years. I took an amazing class, too. Introduction to Philosophy with Dr. John Miller. If you get the chance and are going to the St. Petersburg College I highly recommend him. He’s not for everyone. His personal anecdotes (of which there were many) were distracting to many of my classmates, but I found him to be an incredibly engaging and fascinating lecturer. I feel like I learned a tremendous amount in his class, intellectually and spiritually.

Which leads me to the next major change in my life. I’m moving back toward spirituality. Don’t worry. I’m not going Christian again. Been there, done that, got the angst ridden t-shirt. I can no longer deny the fact that taking refuge in my intellect is no longer satisfying me spiritually. I once held that I needed nothing beyond the mind, that nothing existed beyond that which I could see or have proven to me. I’m not so sure anymore. There is something else out there. Maybe it’s because of September 11th. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older. Maybe it’s just because of the fact that I have so many wonderful things in my life but I’m still unhappy most of the time. I don’t know for sure. I’ve been exploring the possibilities of meditation and Buddhism, and I’m finding a lot there that makes sense to me. Does this mean I’ll actually take vows and become a Buddhist? I couldn’t tell you for sure. What I can tell you, however, is that I’ve been doing a lot of reading on the subject and there are many valuable things one can take from Buddhism. I suppose you can say that about any religion, if you look at it from the right perspective.

My romantic life? Ah, what can I say about it that I haven’t said before? I’m still searching, but I’m becoming, I think, less frantic about it. I had a few major let downs over the last year, but I’ve made several new friends from it. Two, in particular, have become very important to me and I’m grateful to have met them at all (yes, if you’re wondering, one of them is the “Howard” woman from my post in October. She has fallen happily in love with another man, which absolutely devastated me when I heard about it. She’s added much to my life, however, in the form of books and music I had not experienced before, and I’m glad now that I got the chance to know her). I haven’t exactly been a saint, either. I almost got involved with a married woman (something I swore I would never do), and only stopped when I realized that her husband was far too crafty for me to get away with talking to her anymore. Good for him. He fought for what was his, and I respect the hell out of him for it. It’s something I didn’t have the balls to do. I misled some women (call it lying if you like, I have no illusions about what I did). Hell, you can see the results of one of my endeavors on my guest book. Seems a friend of one of the women I was involved with wasn’t so happy with how I treated her. Can’t say I blame him. I have the ability to delete messages left on my guest book, but I decided to leave that one up (even after reconciling with her and having him ask me to take it down). I find it humbling. I get told so often how wonderful I am, it’s nice to have something around to bring me back to Earth on occasion. Nobody is perfect, not even me. Hell, especially not me.

I’m involved in the Theater again, and it’s been an amazing experience. I can’t believe I actually let myself go as long as I did without being involved in a production. The cast is comprised of some truly stellar individuals who I am honored to have met, and of course the show is being directed by my old friend “ranney.” I feel like I’ve woken up again, and I don’t plan on going back to sleep. Expect to see me on the stage here in Tampa often.

I’ve also (as if I haven’t been doing enough) been writing again. I’m doing something different this time, though. I’ve been writing erotica. I’m mentioning this because some of my “fans” from the web site have posted on my guest book, and I thought perhaps some of you were wondering what the hell they were talking about. It’s been interesting. I’ve never written anything like this before, but I seem to be pretty good at it (judging from the number of people who have been bugging me to finish my novella). Certainly what I’ve been writing isn’t for everyone, so I’m not going to go into any more details about it here. If you’re interested in reading it, let me know and I’ll tell you how to find it. Except family members. Guys, don’t even ask. I’m so not going there.

A summary of my year would never be complete without talking about my children. Alexander, now six years old, continues to amaze me with how wonderful he is. I took him to several of the “Maxwell” rehearsals, and he seemed to love the process. I’m hoping that some day he’ll decide to get involved in the theater himself. I think, between his mother and I, he’ll have tons of natural talent. Of course, I’m under the impression that the child will be able to do anything that he sets his mind to. Sometimes I look at the path that’s in front of him and I see so opportunities that are similar to ones that I had. I hope he doesn’t waste them. I don’t want him to follow in my footsteps, or become the famous actor that I always wanted to be, but I hope that whatever his passion in life is that he takes advantage of whatever chance he has to pursue it. I don’t care what he does with his life, as long as he does something. As long as he lives, and doesn’t become another couch potato statistic. There is nothing sadder than a person who had potential that just ends up wasting their days away in front of the television wondering what happened to them. Wondering why life passed them by. Not realizing that life didn’t pass them by – They weren’t even at the bus stop to be picked up.

Kimberly. What can I say about Kimberly? What can you say about living with any teenager? It’s the most rewarding and frustrating thing a person can go through. I’m so proud of her. She’s becoming her own person. She’s starting to break out of the “party crowd” mentality and really explore doing things that SHE likes to do. Not that she doesn’t party anymore. She just seems to really be finding what it is that makes her happy, and I think it’s awesome. She is also working two jobs now. Mind you, she doesn’t seem to be able to save any money or do much to contribute to the bills around here, but at least she is paying her own credit card bills. She’s talked recently about moving out. I have mixed feelings about it. I’d like to have my own space, for sure. I’d like to not have to clean up after her. I’d like to be able to take a significant chunk out of my utility bills. But I like having her here, too. I like taking care of her. I’m afraid that if she moves out I’ll see her even less than I do now. I know she’ll say that won’t happen, but I also know that I don’t visit my own mother nearly as often as I should. I think I make it pretty easy to live her. Not a lot of rules, and I even do her laundry every once in a while. She’s free to come and go as she pleases, and I try not to raise my eyebrows TOO high when she says she’s doing something I don’t approve of. She probably feels she is ready to find her own way, though, and I understand that. She’ll be 20 this year. She is an adult. Living with me makes her feel like a kid, and that’s not what she wants right now. So if she goes I will be sad, but I won’t condemn her for it.

And I’ll be able to walk around naked if I want to.

Somehow or other I failed to mention in my November article that I am, officially, divorced now. It was official on October 15th. When I got the paperwork in the mail I was very sad. I finally had that paper I’d dreaded getting for so long, and that chapter of my life was over. I’m not so sad now. In fact, she told me the other day that they are now engaged (which actually took him longer than I thought it would) and I wasn’t really upset about it. In fact, I had a very nice conversation with Jody about her wedding plans. I’ve moved on. Our lives took different paths, and I’m so content with mine right now that I couldn’t imagine things having happened any other way. Many of my friends don’t understand my relationship with my ex wife and best friend, and I don’t really understand it myself. I just feel no malice. I will never, ever forgive what they put me through. The pain I felt during those months was a horrid, wrenching hell that quite honestly put me to the brink of suicide on several occasions. I just wanted it to end, I just wanted to go to sleep and not have to hurt anymore. I got through it, though, and I’m a stronger (and wiser) person now. Even knowing all of that, I can’t fault them for being totally evil. Not when I see them with Alex. Not when they are so willing to help me out when I can’t watch Alex as often as normal during rehearsal periods. Not when I see the looks in their eyes sometimes when they realize how much they hurt THEMSELVES by what they did (Not that I think they would change anything. They gave up a lot, though, to be with each other. They burned a whole shit load of bridges that will never be rebuilt. Even in the cases when they didn’t totally burn them, there was some structural damage). It was horrible, what happened between the three of us, but we have to continue on with lives. Living in the past and filling myself with hate only hurts my son and I.

To those of you who say to yourselves that I’m a fool for feeling that way, I understand. The only thing I could say in my defense is that I’d do the same thing for you.

I hope you all have a wonderful 2002. I know I plan to.

Acting again, school, and other news

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So very much to write about. I almost don’t know where to start. This one is going to be a completely personal, update sort of entry. So for those of you who are looking for some of my more deep and philosophical stuff, I suggest you try back later or check out some of the links below.

I guess what’s on my mind the most right now is the fact that I’m getting involved in the theater again. That’s right, kids. After a self-imposed hiatus of over five years I’m going to be back on the stage with the Jobsite Theater in Tampa. I’m playing the role of Gerhardt in a new Joe Popp musical called Maxwell. The show will run from January 4th to the 20th in Tampa, and then we will have three performances in New York. Who would have thought that I’d actually make it on the stage in New York? Sure, it’s not Broadway. I’m coming back home to Tampa after wards. But damn it, I’m going to be performing in New York. It’s almost unbelievable, but it’s happening. Rehearsals begin on Monday, and I’m more excited than I’ve been in a long time.

My birthday has come and gone, and while I’m a little older now I can’t say I feel any wiser. I did, however, have one of the best birthdays I’ve had in a long time. I threw myself a big party, and many friends came over to watch me get VERY drunk and make a general ass of myself. That’s what friends are for, man. I got some great presents, too. All in all, it was a smashing success.

The weight loss continues, and I’ve now lost 130 pounds. I’m a little nervous about going into the holidays, but I’m taking some definite steps to prevent major back pedaling during the next two months of continual feasting. I think I’ll do fine. I’m even predicting another 10 pound loss by the end of the year. I’m confident I can do it.

The semester is almost over, and as of this point I’m still carrying A’s in all of my classes. Not a small feat in one of them. Philosophy is a real pain in the ass, let me tell you. I love the class, but it’s very hard and our grades are solely based on test scores. I’ve gotten A’s on all the tests, so it’s all good. I have a paper to write by next Wednesday, but I’ve got a pretty firm grasp on what I’m going to include in that. No worries there. In general, the whole school thing is going along quite swimmingly, I must say.

Still nothing new on the job front, but I’ve got a recruiter that is working very hard for me from Kforce. Hopefully she’ll turn up something soon, because the coffers are getting quite thin.

Well, that’s all the updating I’m going to do at the moment. I could write more but I’m tired and it’s late. I’ll try and update more regularly for those of you who have been pestering me to do so.

Ringing The Bell

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In the movie G.I. Jane there were several scenes in which the drill instructor attempted to convince the hopeful recruits to ring a bell. When the recruit rang the bell, that recruit was indicating that he or she had given up. They were admitting that they wanted to quit, and were ready to go home. It was a humiliating, demoralizing process. The bell was symbolic of failure; of defeat. To hear it ring was to know that one more person had been crushed under the weight of the program.

In my philosophy class this evening, the professor was attempting to convince some of us to ring the bell.

Last week we had our first test. It was, without a doubt, one of the most difficult exams that I have ever been subjected to. The teacher does not believe in multiple choice (“multiple guess”, he calls it), and as a result all of the questions were short answer and essay. He gave out a study guide last week with an example of all the questions that would be on the test and the pages in our texts that the answers could be found on. Even armed with that information, the majority of the class failed.

Miserably.

So abysmal was their failure that he spent almost an hour of the class berating us. He practically begged some of us to ring the bell.

I couldn’t help but feel sorry for those who took him up on his offer. How horrid it must have been to walk to the front of the class, all eyes on you, with everyone knowing that you are a failure. You could tell it was killing them. They had to muster every ounce of inner strength they possessed to walk up there with some sense of dignity.

I was on the other end of the spectrum. I got an A on my test.

I have always found it awkward when I have excelled in the face of failure. When those around me could not rise to achieve, and I was held up as a barometer to compare them by. I started feeling that way tonight, because he pointed us out to the rest of the class, asking what we had done to get such good grades.

I got over it, though.

I worked my ass off for that A. I deserved it. I’m tired of feeling guilt over the fact that others can not (or will not) excel when I do. I refuse to fail. I refuse to accept mediocrity. More than anything, I refuse to feel bad because of it.

I will not ring the bell.

–

Another interesting thing happened today. I am in pursuit of a woman (I know, most of you are probably saying “When aren’t you?” Just bear with me) who I am quite taken with. She, however, is not going gently unto that good night. We’re involved in a dance of sorts, it seems. I tell her how I feel, she accepts it, does not discourage it, and yet she still skitters away. I feel like I’m being tested. Like she is seeing if I have the mettle to go the distance, or if she will crush me first. To be completely fair, though, I don’t know that it is that deliberate with her. If she is doing it on purpose.

As insane as it sounds, I’m starting to enjoy it.

She told me today that she was looking for her Howard. She was referring to the book “The Fountainhead” by Ayn Rand. So I stopped at Barnes and Noble on the way to school to buy a copy. The teller, an attractive middle-aged woman, saw what I was buying and started to gush over it. I wanted to see if my reason for buying it made any sense to her, so I told her that “A woman I am fond of told me she was looking for her Howard, and that I needed to read the book.”

“Oh my,” she said, her face suddenly very serious. “Yes, you do. Right away!”

Fascinating!

As I left, she wished me luck. Earnestly! She seemed to grasp something about the task that I had been set on.

A guy in my philosophy class tonight noticed what I was reading and remarked on it as well. So I, again, shared my reasons for reading the book. He also seemed to grasp something in that, smiled knowingly, then commented on a “disturbingly erotic” scene in which Howard met the main female character in the book.

Again I must say – Fascinating!

I don’t know where my relationship is going to end up with her, but I suddenly feel…no, know…that whatever does happen, it’s going to be interesting. It certainly won’t be easy, and I may not succeed.

But I’m not going to ring the bell.

–

It has been a day of revelations in general.

I was talking to my friend Aimee earlier, and we were discussing being an artist. I was expressing to her how I was envious of ranney, a person who I consider to be a true Bohemian. Devoted to his art, always branching out and trying new things. I was remarking how I wished I had the ability to live that way.

Aimee, the wonderful person that she is, pointed out that I do. I had just gotten finished telling her about some stories that I had written and had published on a web site, and how I needed to find time to work on ranney’s web site. How I had an application that I wanted to build based on his site. How I am studying philosophy and ethics. She pointed these things out to me, and it suddenly became so clear that she was right.

What an amazing gift to give to a person!

Yet again, I find myself inching closer to being the person that I used to be. I am actually starting to feel like an artist again. Like a Bohemian. What a grand feeling it is.

Was there anything else to write about?

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Is there any way at all for me to describe the way I’m feeling about Tuesday’s events that we haven’t seen over and over again in the news? Can I possibly come up with another word to describe the feeling in my gut, the utter fear, the constant replay of those planes smashing into the World Trade Center in my head?

No, I really don’t believe there is.

I hung an American Flag out in front of my house today. When I bought this place, in December of 1999, the previous owner left a flag in the utility room. It has sat there the entire time I’ve been here. I tried to make sure it didn’t hit the ground, sure. I mean, I DID spend years in the Boy Scouts. Some of that shit is ingrained in my head. To this day I can spout the Scout Codes and Laws as if I were 12 again. Other than that, though, I never really paid it much mind. It didn’t seem important to me.

Part of the problem, you see, is that it’s just not hip to love your country anymore. Really, how often do you see members of my generation (the now approaching and in many cases over thirty-something Generation X) being patriotic? Do we stand up for the Pledge of Allegiance? Do we sing the national anthem? Do we get tears in our eyes on Memorial Day? NO! We scoff at it. We think it’s beneath us. We think it’s an archaic throwback to our grandparents time.

So, you see, it was actually with some sense of trepidation that I hung my flag today. I had to stop for a minute and think about why I was doing it. If I really felt patriotic, or if I was doing it just because I was supposed to. If my friends would understand, or if they would think I was being cheesy. It it really MEANT anything to me.

In the end I decided to risk appearing to be Velveeta and hang that blessed flag.

I AM proud to be an American. I always have been, even in the height of my discontent with it. During Operation Desert Storm, I ripped up my draft card in protest. Mind you, I didn’t do this and mail it to the draft board (I was rebellious, not stupid), but I was angry that my country was fighting in a war that I didn’t understand and I didn’t support. I still, however, loved being an American, and would not have dodged the draft had I been called (on a side note, I took steps to try and get registered as a conscientious objector. You can make me go, damnit, but you aren’t getting me to kill anyone). So today I put my flag up, and I was proud to be one of the many in my neighborhood that did. Times like this can bring out the best in us.

It can also bring out the worst.

I’ve talked to several people who have made absolutely moronic statements in the last few days. Things like, “I better not see anyone wearing a turban” or “I just want to go kill me a sand nigger.” What’s worse is that some of these comments have come from my family. I’ve also heard people talking about wanting to be secure so badly that they are willing to “be inconvenienced” a little more. I’ve heard talk about closing borders.

This kind of talk is insanity, and it is our responsibility as sane and logical members of this country to put an end to it NOW. Killing and hatred is evil, period. There are times that it is a necessary evil, but it is NEVER a good thing. We must hunt down those responsible. We MUST ensure that they will never do this again. We must rise above relishing in the task, however. We must not let hatred mire us down, because it reduces us. It makes us less, and that is unacceptable. It is also unacceptable to talk of closing borders, or restricting freedoms. If we change our way of life because of these attacks then the bad guys, even if they end up dying because of it, have won hands down.

That’s it. I’m spent. I want to sleep for 12 hours in a cold room under a thick blanket and try to get these images out of my head, but I can’t. I’ll be up tomorrow morning, watching the news, seeing the crashes all over again. Weather permitting, though, I’ll be hanging that flag again.

Friends, family…even strangers. I love you, and I am glad that you are alive to read this.