Thank you for smoking.

I can't hardly STAND being away from Michael. He is so giving and affectionate and loving - moving away was like unplugging myself from any and all connections to anything resembling Love that I had in my life. Nobody else loves me even though I smoke. He will always love me, even if I was a crackhead.

I don't think I have ever had a New Year's Resolution - until now.

The resolution for 2011 is to Make Every Day Awesome.

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In some way, every day, I want to be able to connect to the feeling that Life is Awesome. Whether this is because I am able to accomplish something every day that I can scratch off my bucket list, or whether it is as simple as having a favorite meal or smoothie or anything else that I enjoy, connecting to that State is now my focus.

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I am very pleased to have arrived at this new heightened State of Awareness, which involved much healing, and now that I have closed several chapters in my life that do not ever have to be reopened again, I am quite looking forward to replacing some of these unseemly memories with an entire bank of New Things Worth Remembering. Enough is enough!

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I have already found in just a few short days that I am beginning to plan these things out in advance, because it feels GOOD to connect with the inner self daily. Now that I have progressed enough to anchor my inner or higher self on a daily basis, it is time to allow life to unfold from that perspective. I am looking forward to seeing how the creation of the future will unfold as I make this effort each day. I hope that I can excite and encourage others to do the same, whether it is this year, or any future year (or at any other point in the space-time continuum, for that matter).

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ALL IS ONE, ONE IS ALL.

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What have you done today to make it an AWESOME day?

Marcus is pure genius.

I told him that Saturday was the 2nd anniversary of that horrific surgery. And that I was expecting guests again, who are coming for the Palm Springs International Film Festival. He observed that I always remember dates when bad things happened, and asked if I remembered anything good to celebrate. I told him that January 18 is the 16th anniversary of my mom's kidney transplant. He was skeptical, but came around when I noted that it is a great date, every one that passes means that I got to keep my little mom another year against all odds. I told him that I would count college graduation but that I did not walk the stage, because I did not want to have to deal with all my silly arguing family and called it off rather than have them ruin the day.

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So, since one of the conditions that I set when I told the universe that I was amenable to moving to the desert if all the cards lined up right, was that I wanted it to be a place where I could interact with others with my most authentic self. And they did line up right, and here I am. Finally, I have my living space back to myself, and all fixed up like I want it, for the most part. I mean, decorating is a never ending job, right? And I am ready, willing, and able to begin to create new traditions and anniversaries to remember. I don't have a whole lot of history in my life to celebrate because something was always wrong, someone was always not happy with the situation, or some bad thing had happened, or someone was wallowing around in drama of their own creation but refused to see. But now, I am a self-sufficient, grown up adult, and don't have to wait around on them anymore. It is time to get busy and try new things and go new places and create happy memories now that I have no boss to answer to making me miserable, no schedule to adhere to, although a more regular schedule is a plan that I have, in order to help me eat better, manager depression better, and feel better overall. But really, as I have grown to love my isolation, I am realizing that I have no more reason not to create the memories and life that I want. I can learn to accept my slower pace, my restricted motion, and my physical discomfort. It's the rest of life that is free from restriction. I have to seize that and run with the ball.

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I don't have to be anxious about being single either, because I know that nothing less than the high vibration guy who I long for would do at all, and that finding him is the proverbial needle in a haystack. I can do nothing but trust and participate in life. There is no other strategy to finding my Twin Flame. Once we spot each other, it will be all over. So, there is nothing to be anxious about.

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First new anniversary date - 11-9-10 - the first day I met Marcus. Although, I love the idea of having an annual New Year's Eve party for those who would like to attend. It was wonderful to have people who I love around to chill out and to celebrate that happy occasion. So, on to the next thing to remember!

A person denied affection cannot thrive.

Tonight, I felt the full force of both hunger for food and the hunger for affection that could only have come from the center of the galactic core. I felt the hunger for affection from my parents, especially my dad, and from every man I have ever loved, denied by all along the way.

New Year indeed.

Was showered with compliments on my living space. It's really no big deal. Once I decided the best layout for the furniture in the main room, the rest came easy. It's about removing clutter and keeping the place clean, which is not so hard since I don't make a big mess anyway.

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Confusion arose when one friend voiced that he would "love to live this life." I know that he was referring to my living space, and maybe the surrounding town, not too sure about what exactly he meant by "this life," since he did not itemize. I agree, having a beautiful and clean home is wonderful - but there is only so much solace that "stuff" can provide. Living in a castle would be nice, too. But the echo of the empty walls and deafening silence would only confirm the emptiness of the place. So yeah, I am trying to wrap my mind around what it is that he meant by saying that he would love to live "this life." What about the parts that are not so nice? Being on a fixed income, having to make choices that limit the amount of medical care and physical therapy I receive because of budgeting? What about the complete and total isolation? I do not have the money to be running around town. I am allotted two tanks of gas per month, and that totals almost $90 bucks as it is. I am trying to DECREASE my spending, not INCREASE it. When I DO go out in public, I am not at all received in the same way that he is. People's pursuit of beauty is discriminating like that. I wonder if he would be willing to trade places, and to come live this life, here in my house, alone, by himself, day after day after day after day after day? Married people have no clue what real life is like. Whatever. I am tired of trying to get my point across to people who refuse to hear.

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I am so surprised to hear gangsta Will from Desert Hot Springs tell me that I am the best friend he ever had. All I did was treat him like a regular person. It saddens me that others do not treat him like a regular person. Is it because of his race? His persona? His habits and mannerisms? Everyone deserves to be treated with respect. I am happy for him and value his friendship.

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I am really surprised that both OC boys miss having me in close proximity so much. I would never have guessed that in a million years. Clearly my influence upon them is good. I will support them however I can, but I cannot make their choices for them, and I cannot be pulled into the drama. If their relationship is not of the spiritual nature that I envision for myself, there is nothing I can do about it. I am so pleased that I had the good sense to remove myself from the situation. There was a time when Michael especially had his emotional hooks into me so heavily that I would have actually contemplated killing myself upon hearing what he had to say to me this weekend. Especially after the months and months and months of his refusal to support me during my severe loneliness, and of witholding even platonic affection, because it was "inappropriate." Really? I am glad I no longer depend upon him for validation, affection, or assistance with the despair that comes with my state of isolation. I would have drowned in my own tears. Amazingly, he perceives my mad love for him as judgment. Jesse is doing SO WELL at turning his ship around. I hope that he is able to get Michael to do the same. I don't think I could bear to lose either of them, and that's what is coming if he does not get his shit straight. At least I was able to offer them a beautiful, relaxing place to be this New Year's Eve. That pleases me. Maybe they will decide to come back soon and relax and enjoy the quiet again.

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Chuck and Anda seemed to enjoy themselves too. They even spoke of making New Year's Eve in the desert a tradition. That would be fun, huh? But then I could never invite Craig to attend. Or Howie and Marlene. Marlene's father died day before yesterday, I hope she is doing OK.

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Note to self: burning almost 100 tea lights with no open windows makes for particulate pollution irritation of the nasal passages. Must keep upstairs windows open for air flow if candles are burning. God! I hate hot pepper sinuses.

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Marcus did not accept my invitation for New Year's Eve. I suppose that is all the proof I need to know that he is not emotionally available for dating, which he has verbalized before, so it is time for me to accept his friendship as it is and move on and stop pursuing his affection. Which leaves me at square one. Still alone.

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So it is a New Year how, exactly? Oh yeah, I don't give a flying shit about whether I am single or not anymore. After all, I have the perfect life in the HGTV desert house. Right? LOL! Ugh.

So Frankie is going to be moving (because I asked him to).

Soon I will have the house to myself again. And gangsta Will is talking about leaving for Los Angeles next week since school is out and since opportunity is a dead-end for him out here. Who could blame him. Which means that my only physical, in-person contact will be Marcus, who comes once per week for 8 hours to help me clean and stuff and to stretch and massage me. But I am not certain how long I can afford to keep that up, although I know that he is also my friend. That dynamic will change when I can no longer afford to pay for his services. (He is talking about renting his house out when the floor is installed, and then moving up here to seek work, and renting my room, but that is potentially a long way off, and cannot be counted on for the purpose of this contemplation). So, no matter how you slice it, I will soon be an empty-nester once again.

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Is this my rock bottom? Has my ability to delay gratification to some future time that will never occur completely run out? If so, what do I need to do in order to prepare myself for coming face-to-face with my greatest fear becoming reality? Or, rather, how can I prepare myself for being able to accept that my greatest fear has actually become my reality? And in so doing, how can I move toward accepting this with grace and ease instead of continuing to deny and resist and reject it, which has not served me?

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How will I attempt to structure my days, my thought patterns, hell, my entire life, so as to no longer spend one more moment thinking about and hoping that I will find a romantic partner who will eventually live with me? Continually comparing my current situation with that idyllic future which will never exist continues to rob me of the present. Continuing to compare that idyllic state with my current reality makes me no longer want to participate in the present, and if that does not change, I will obviously not be here much longer. So, I have to face and accept my fate. I have to accept singledom. I have to learn to love the thing I have most despised and hated. I have to accept myself and my entire life as a complete and utter failure from the standpoint of getting my needs, wants and desires met. And I must learn how to derive value and pleasure from things that currently do not bring me value or pleasure. I suppose you could call this the biggest challenge I have ever faced.

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There was a book written about this subject several years ago, something about "They Moved My Cheese," the general gist of it was about what to do when you get where you thought you were going only to discover that it was not what you expected at all, and the rules of the game had changed, and you basically had to start over from scratch. I guess it is time to read that book to see what insights it has to offer.

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At this point, I would be satisfied with being happy and deriving pleasure from simply getting out of the bed each day, showering and bathing each day, eating 3 meals each day, performing some activity each day (walking for example), and being outside as much as possible especially on warm weather days. Since I have not been able to do any of these things in many months, seeing my activity level rise to that rate and stay there, and being happy while doing it, would be a major switch, and something to work toward for sure.

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Along with this has to come a certain level of satisfaction with being in solitude, and happy with myself and my surroundings at all times, whether or not anyone else is ever present ever again. I do not want to feel held hostage by my solitude any longer. I am not at all sure about how to go about fixing that little issue, since it is so totally tied into my self-worth issues (or rather worthlessness issues), since the solitude only serves to reinforce my feelings of worthlessness and societal rejection. The objective is to be able to see myself as worthy regardless of whether anyone else agrees or disagrees, or whether they behave in ways that make me *feel* that they agree or disagree. I have to separate my sense of worth from all sources other than how I feel about myself. Of course, I have no idea how this is going to work, how to do it, or what it looks like, and professional help will be requested once I get eligible for Medicare and get signed up for Part A, B, D and a Supplement. Then I can run off to the crazy farm if I feel the need.

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For now, I just have to hang on, keep eating, I especially love the Trader Joe's hemp and flax cereal with berry yogurt and blueberries. And for now, that's probably all that I *can* do. Also, continuing to observe my anger, since I am now aware of a very deep and embedded layer of anger that I have about this subject, about how unfair it all is, about society and dating and attraction and human behavior and all of it - I am so incredibly angry at the whole thing. Being aware of it and observing it will allow me to transcend it eventually, I hope, but right now I just have to agree to observe it, to be gentle with myself, and to not try to "fix" it, simply observe. Eventually the idea is to no longer direct that anger toward myself. For now, I just have to recognize that it is there in the first place. And, boy, is it ever.

Possible repost - from 2007 - needed a place to link this to.

The Ring

An attempt to communicate my sadness to my friends who look at me as if I have lost my marbles when I express the most basic human need – to feel loved.

Graduation was coming up, and I had decided to just forego the graduation ceremony and not walk across the stage. The cost of the cap and gown was $75.00, and I did not have that much money. Besides, my parents were feuding, as they had done for many years since before they divorced, and the idea of gathering them and my extended family together on the same day in the same place to give them a stage on which to perform their drama just was not appealing whatsoever. Nah. I sure as hell was not going to borrow the money only to have them spoil the day. So I let them steal the experience from me altogether.

But redemption was at hand. My friend Marc, who had graduated from Texas A&M as a Doctor of Veterinary Science had acquired a beautiful gold class ring, with a star on top and a diamond in the center. I was captivated by it the moment I saw it. It represented his achievement, his station in life, his future. I had to have one exactly like it. After all, he had love, and a great family, and a great girlfriend, and a great car, and a great house with a pool. I miss his mother, Charlotte. She knew how to make you feel as though you were the most special person alive. She died so young.

My family had preached to me since I was a toddler how important it was to get an education. They told me that with an education, I could be whoever I wanted to be, go wherever I wanted to go, and do whatever I wanted to do – things they perceived themselves as unable to accomplish. I now see that this was a symptom of their inability to give themselves and each other unconditional love. As much as they tried to make me feel loved in their dysfunctional way, it was perfectly clear to me that there were strings attached, and for some reason I continued to try to meet their expectations so that maybe, someday, they might love me.

My experiences as a youngster left me feeling empty and unloved at every turn. I was a small, thin, book-wormish, socially inept, homosexual castaway. It was perfectly clear that I was not going to secure a feeling of being loved from the general society around me. For that, I would have to have been a straight, muscle bound, football-playing ladies man. In school, I felt as though I was definitely several tiers below the “upper crust,” and somehow I failed to accept that my instinctive knowledge that my desire to feel loved was not going to be met by that world with all those conditions attached. It was sort of a mirror of my smaller reality, the one with my immediate and extended family. I was awash in a sea of souls who steadfastly refused to provide themselves and each other with unconditional love. And I took the bait, hook, line, and sinker, and continued to try to secure that for myself by striving to meet everyone’s expectations.

So after having completed the college education, naturally I assumed that I was now ready to have unconditional love bestowed upon me. After all, I had fulfilled my end of the bargain. It had been hell. Ten years of working and going to school part-time while battling life-threatening depression. But it was over now. I was ready to claim my love.

I planned the purchase of my ring with great care, and was sure to go to the campus store so that I could see it and touch it and feel it in my hands. I obtained a quote of its price, and then sank away into my dreary world to begin the weeks and months of saving the money to complete the purchase.

No one was more surprised than I to find that on the day I went with the cash in my hand to make the order that the ring was on sale! I saved hundreds of dollars off the original price quoted. My heart was just racing! I could not believe my stroke of luck! So the countdown began to the day it would arrive and I could finally slip it onto my finger, so that everyone could see that I had fulfilled my duty and was ready to accept their love.

The feeling of actually opening the box and putting on the ring can only be described as Cinderella being fitted with the glass slipper. It seems criminal to me now that all the societal institutions around me, my family, my parents, my college, my coworkers, could allow me to expect that my life would change and that I would feel loved with that ring on my finger. But I eventually learned that this, too, was not going to provide the hole in my heart with the filling it needed. But I kept wearing it anyway.

I had friends who were so excited for me and who congratulated me. A couple of them were straight guy friends with whom I was in love. Of course, that love was unrequited because they were not gay. I think my sister dated one of them. Neither of them ever finished school. One had two marriages end in bad cocaine and methamphetamine abuse. One came home from the Navy tattered and scarred, but managed to get married to a girl he met at one of those enormous dance clubs overflowing with 20-somethings, eardrum bursting music, smoke, beer and vomit. I wonder what has become of them.

I began to question the portrayal of societal events, to question whether they were actual celebrations of love or just excuses for everyone to fool themselves into believing they were loved. I saw couples around me who made such big deals out of Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day and New Year’s Eve and birthdays and Thanksgiving and Christmas. But on other days they felt free to fight and argue and spread their bad energy among us onlookers. It never added up. After a while, I stopped counting those special days as they passed year after year after year, and I remained single and alone, feeling unloved and empty. I mean, after a while there is no point in celebrating one’s misery when all attempts to secure the unconditional love associated with those days have failed. So they just became like any other day on the calendar, only to come and go and to be crossed off with a big, black X.

The first place I wore the ring was to this gay dance club in Dallas called The Wave. It had a swimming pool out back. I remember a guy jumped in and swam from one side to the other in his underwear one day, and when he got out and stood up, the other patrons turned toward him and applauded. I am pretty certain it was because of how he looked in his wet underwear. I was soon disappointed to learn that even with my ring, unconditional love escaped me. Funny, in all the years that I went to that club and to others like it, waiting to be noticed by someone who might love me, I never perceived that the other people at the club were finding love either. But they were supposed to be looking there and finding it! Or so everyone said.

Soon after graduation, my mother came home and announced that she had end-stage renal disease and would require a kidney transplant. She had apparently been walking around with this knowledge for months, in complete denial, and had refused to utter the words out loud. Over the next 6 years or so, she went on to lose her job, to get a home dialysis unit, and since I had not found my “career” position yet, I took two jobs in order to keep a roof over our heads. I told her that I would take care of the finances no matter what, and that her only job was to get well. I did, and she did. During the process, however, my friends started falling by the wayside one by one as they felt slighted by my inattention to their daily gay bar dramas since I was busy working and could not go out or spend my time frivolously as they did. I wondered if they had ever truly loved me in the first place, if they were unable to see the enormous burden I was carrying, or to assist me with my needs at that time in my life. Alas, but this fit perfectly into place with all the other puzzle pieces that seemed to paint a picture of be being unable to secure the feeling of being whole and loved no matter what avenue I traveled, so I resigned myself to their departure.

Later, after my mom recovered and had gone back to work, a job in San Francisco landed in my lap. I accepted, even though I had never even been there. I was delusional enough to think that I would find there thousands of other guys, just like me, who desired companionship, a partner, and who would offer unconditional love. Instead, after placing a personal ad describing such a thing, I received hate mail telling me to “go back to whatever Midwestern town I came from, because this was San Francisco and we just have sex here.” After getting over the initial shock that everyone around me had segmented their lives to the point where sexual activity was no longer associated with any sort of honor to the spirit, or with love and devotion, but had been reduced to that of animals on the prowl, I decided that San Francisco was not the place for me, so I headed south.

That was 8 years ago, and since then, the ring was stolen when I left it in the washroom at my office building in downtown Long Beach. I accepted the loss, and was pleased to be rid of the illusion that wearing it might actually enable me to receive unconditional love, because it never did quite live up to its promise, as my family had told me that it would. Eight more birthdays, eight more Valentine’s Days, eight more New Years Eve’s, eight more Christmases, all passing like floats in a parade, portraying fun and happiness and love, somewhere I the distance. Maybe in some far away, future place that the floats are traveling to, as the parade turns the corner.

I do try to remain centered and calm and detached from desire, but sometimes it is too much. Sometimes I am overcome with the feeling of loss, the desire to feel loved, the desire for touch, to be held in warm arms all night, the desire for toe-curling, mind-boggling sexual union that can only be known by two lovers with a conscious intention to merge with the Divine Source. And yes, I have been surrounded by people who loved me unconditionally, as I learned how to create that for myself, since I was not taught that skill by my family, God Love them for trying. But there remains a plateau that I have not yet reached, the place I have envisioned myself ever since I was born, and it beckons me. I know not how to get there. No mountain I climb brings me peace; no mental State cures the pain and emptiness. There are days when I don’t feel I can go on any longer, and then I struggle to shake the frame of mind so that I can begin to live again. I can only describe this feeling of emptiness, in an attempt to purge it from my reality. I feel as though no one understands, but maybe they do, but are afraid to admit it because it is such a deep, dark place. I am not sure. I still somehow believe that the entire reason I was born was to have someone find me and tell me that they Love me, and mean it. Forever. That is my intention, to tell them the same thing. And to mean it. But I am not meeting anybody who thinks this way, who is attractive to me and available to me.

This is the last fairy tale I have to overcome. Prince Charming. He has been written about through the ages. He is Who We Are. If only we would allow ourselves to be.