Swallowed by the ages.

Turning 40 and the ghosts of Christmas past

In literally two minutes I will become forty. Officially middle aged, over the hill, two twenties, black balloons and streamers in one hand and a bottle of Viagra in the other. For most people this is the time of reflection. Well, I’m tired of looking at mine! All I see is my mother’s face staring back at me. Along with laugh lines, crow’s feet, closed pores and enough bags under my eyes to choke a Virgin Air Bus. But what are you going to do; you can’t go back you can only press on and drink heavily (I quit smoking, I gotta do something.) But the past does come back to haunt you.

That’s been happening to me quite a bit lately, old ghosts from my past coming back to haunt me. Not in that, “Whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” type way but in people and memories, good and bad.

Not too long ago the x-bf started dating again. This would be all well and good but we still live together (long story… it involves leases and my own stupidity but I digress.) A certain feeling began to stir up inside me knowing he was out and about. The same feeling a use to get when I was a little kid and my Mom would leave for a night out or when “friends” use to tell me to meet them somewhere and no one would show up. You get that lump caught in your throat that doesn’t allow you to cry no matter how much you want to. Or that pit in your stomach that acts as a constant reminder you’ve tossed aside once again and your feelings mean nothing. I told you some of it was bad; don’t look so shocked! But this same feeling reminds you as adult that there is only so much shit you’re going to take. Even though in the beginning you feel as if you’re ten years old again, you grow up pretty fast. You grab a hold of that pit in your stomach and lump in your throat and turn them inside out. You screw up your strength and let loose on the person who dare make you feel this way again. But in the end you realize you may have hurt someone who didn’t deserve it because the person who did wasn’t around. Not to say in this case it wasn’t deserved, but for future reference I might want to take it down a notch. It amazes me how the most unexpected thing people will do or say will trigger a response long thought to be tucked away in a dark corner of my mind.

Recently some people I haven’t seen in years have been coming out of the woodwork in the unexpected places. One appeared in my workplace as a client, another I met at a local bar and one more I met at my neighbors wedding not to long ago. Just a few weeks ago two of my friends from college came to stay with me. One flew in from Atlanta and stayed the week; the other drove in from Syracuse for the weekend. We were all art majors in college. We were young, creative, adventurous and bold. Now days we’re tired, approaching middle age (some of us already there), safe and corporate. But the funny thing is these people, reminded me of what I use to be and made me face what I’ve become. They brought back some of my passion and help steer me in a new direction. Granted, at some points during this visit they drive me totally NUTS! But I think that’s what I needed, I needed people who knew me when to say, “Remember how we use to…” or “I can never forget the time…” to knock me out of my slump. Sometimes it takes people and memories to remind you what you could do and what you can do. And for that I am truly grateful.

My ghosts of Christmas past have come and gone for now. And like Scrooge they have taught me the true meaning of Christmas….PRESENTS! There had better be some good one dammit! If you can’t afford a gift just give me whatever cash is in your wallet. I’m turning forty for Christ sake! Excuse while I eat a tub of Ben & Jerry’s, slip under the covers and wait to die. Good night folks!

We're all backed up here!

For weeks now I have toiled over what to write for this blog. It’s not for the lack of material plenty of stuff has happened over the last few weeks. Remind me to tell you about the guy who came to the garage sale looking for wax lips and knives. You can’t make this shit up! I’ve taken tons of notes and started several outlines for what are soon to be (of course) brilliantly witty and insightful essays. But instead I have become creatively impotent! You’ve seen what’s been happening! All I have been able to manage is freakin’ haiku for Pete’s sake! Now get me wrong, this has never happened before and I usually write with a BIG pen! See? Even that right there was a sad attempt at humor. Something has to be done! So I came with a genius idea!

I decided to write about not writing. I know for some of you this could be a VERY dull and unpleasant experience, so you’re excused. Go get a sandwich or something. But for the rest of you, sit your asses down and shut up while I wax pathetic. Get those looks off of your faces and don’t roll your eyes at me! You’re the ones who are still reading, you have no one to blame but yourselves!

Now I’ve heard of ‘Writer’s Block’ but I’m not sure if this is it. It’s not like I can’t think of something to write, which seems to me more like ‘Writer’s Blank’. It’s more like ‘Writer’s Constipation’, it’s all in there but it won’t come out! Even now I’m struggling to come up what to write next. There! See? I just dropped off for a little bit and hopped into the Gay.com chat room. I’m easily distracted these days.

It’s like I’m back in college again and I have an art project due tomorrow morning. I would do almost anything NOT to do the assignment right away. One of my roommates in college was an economics major and we both had assignments do the next day. So on my suggestion we both cleaned and re-arranged our room at 2:30am. But thee was still time to waste, so we hopped in his car and went to the grocery store to get provisions for when we were ready to start our work. Well, after downing a few cans of Mountain Dew, a box of Honeycombs and watching an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation we were ready to work! As everyone was leaving for breakfast and 8am classes, we had second thoughts about the way we spent the 5-½ hours. So the moral of the story is, never put off until tomorrow what you can do today. Yeah, that’s junk! The moral of the story is my roommate got a B- on his 10-page paper entitled ‘Bull versus a Bear Market: Who’s going to fuck you first?’ And I got an A+ on minimalist socially conscience poster, a big black dot in the middle of a white sheet of Bristol paper with red letters underneath saying ‘Ozone? What’s missing?’ Concept, design and execution took me 45 minutes. Maybe I work best under pressure?

Well, this helped a lot! Thank god! How embarrassing would it be for me to start my new gig as a freelance writer with a case of ‘Writer’s Constipation’? PHEW!

A haiku for the 26 (you know who you are.)

I was once in HELL!
I have been paroled…sprung…FREE!
Soul returning now.