Christmas Day 2012

What a wonderful site to see; President (44!) and Mrs Obama in front of the White House Christmas.

Christmas indeed arrived in early November this year...but I digress.

Merry Christmas to anyone stopping by today. I hope your family celebrations and traditions are filled with as much love, joy, and spirit that the season has to offer.

I get sentimental at Christmas. You know that old time tradition where the family gathers to open gift, share stories of yesteryear, and then feast like kings. Throw in a few sporting events, a drunken Aunt, cousin or two, and you have the perfect holiday! LOL.

Seriously though, today will be spent traveling across the Keystone state visiting various relatives who couldn't come to my house this year. I'm looking forward to a pleasant day. What bites is I have to go to work tomorrow, but I'm not gonna think about the negative. Nope. I will embrace with family that good fortune all got another year to bask in each others' company.

So whatever your plans today, I bid you all the best that the Holidays have to offer.

Merry Christmas!
-Ian

Zach Wahls Speaks About Family

This little clip has been all over Facebook and blogs for the last week. It wasn't until today I sat down and watch it completely through. I was utterly amazed this young man's presence and passion. Kudos Zach!

Spilled Milked, Cracked Eggs

I ponder...

Life seems to be doling out some interesting, yet poignant, lessons these last few days. I'm not sure what some of the meanings are, but I know in my spirit none of these events going on are meant to bring me down, only raise me up to my higher self.

Last week I had to deal with a sudden illness of a family member that threw me for an unexpected loop. Don't wanna go into too many details, but it made me aware of how fragile and precious life is... that in any given moment, someone can be taken from you without warning. Scary.

I've also been dealing with some other losses that I'm diligently putting my best smile on my face; staying resoundingly positive. Yet inside, the evil monster wants to act a fool. Certainly not cute. I don't let the undignified me out too often. He's much more difficult to handle than my everyday happy-go-lucky self. Mmm. Naw. I'm just gonna keep a low profile until the tide pulls away and I can be the Ian folks need me to be. Isn't that what I always do? LOL.

So I'm wondering now what are my next steps in life. I've been examining what I've done so far, looking analytically at the mistakes made, and attempting to not make the same ones twice (thrice or so-forth). At least I finally learned life is not the end destination, but the journey in-between, so I feel good about some of the lessons. My inner child though wants to embrace and hold on to the positive and eschew all things negative, keeping safe from harm. Adult me realizes you have to take the bad with all its negative and nastiness, shape it in an example of growth, and move on. Yeah, so I keep trying to tell myself.

There are times when my insecurities take over and I forget my own strength. Or I allow someone else to dictate who I should be. At 41 this is more than cumbersome, it's quite juvenile and tiiiiiired. I'm waiting for the days when things flow easily like the wind and change is just as commonplace as the sun rising and setting...

Aftershocks

Yesterday was a real shitty day. Period. I don't want to rehash the details but it was a day just to try my patience and push me to my limits. This morning I've woken up with a knot in my stomach and a heavy, heavy heart. I need to deal with the residual but am not sure how to proceed without making the situation further complication. It's one of those deals where I need to best leave well enough alone, but know who I am, I can't or won't.

I'm going to sleep on things, write it out, then ceremonially burn it so I release it to the Universe to deal with. One thing is for sure, I learned a valuable lesson from one situation. Sometime when someone hurts you, hurts you bad enough, you just need to live with that pain awhile. I had a terrible argument with a friend that I'm mulling over yet this morning. Supposedly we kissed and made up, but my friend really said something hurtful and deep to central issues, I wanna pop them in the mouth for it! Of course, I can't say I'm entirely blameless because I might have antagonized the sitch to a degree. My intent was to make my friend laugh and instead they got frustrated and upset. Words were exchanged. Apologies exchanged. But the jabs and undercurrent still existed. Hm.

The sad thing about it is if I approach or say anything to my friend, it will change the nature of our friendship, which might not be a bad thing. At the same token, I enjoy the status quo. I need to think on this a little more before I proceed. The biggest question is this, God, when and why did I become so damn dramatic? LOL.

I'll deal with this.

Kismet

Cosmic forces are aligning themselves my friends, the moment is so at hand I can feel it in my spirit. So scaredy cat got some cajones finally, eh? Well not exactly. The Fates are stepping in, taking care of business, giving me a chance to rescue my adulthood from Purgatory. Since being here in my family's home I've regressed into childhood head first. I don't like it!

This weekend set into play events stumbling towards opening the last closet door, and folks, it sure has been a bumpy ride. After this challenge, nothing else in my life will matter, because I will have overcome the biggest obstacle. But I feel sick this morning. Don't have words to begin to describe the trepidation running amok right now. The conversation is going down, and I mean, soon...

Happy Monday!!!

Seeing My Valley As A Peak

So what's been on my reading syllabus since coming home? Well, I'm struggling through E. Lynn Harris' Basketball Jones, half ass reading Iyanla Vanzant's Up From Here, and rereading Diana Gabaldon's Outlander. Oh yeah, and less I forget, also Brother Hill Harper's Letter to a Young Brother, which some could argue, I'm neither young nor a "brutha," since I'm almost 40 and peeps here in the old neighborhood think I long ago crossed the color line, never to return. My Blackness, or lack thereof, is a matter of interpretation depending on my associates at the time...Why black people gotta be so judgmental?!?!

I digress. Back to my literary adventures. Now, I wonder? Am I an oddball or what, but I have an uncanny tendency to read books backwards. I"ll truck along for so long, reading from the beginning, then I'll skip to the last chapter and find out the ending. After doing so, Ian reads the middle parts. I've never been one for suspense. Boy's gotta know the details NOW! Am I the only one that does this??? Perhaps that's why I'm having trouble reading Basketball Jones, I already now the ending (I won't spoil it if you haven't read it). Suffice to say, Jones is my least favorite of E. Lynn's books.

For a l'il bit of inspiration and motivation, I picked up Hill and Iyanla's jawns because I knew returning to the homestead would be an emotional challenge. The physical part, while taxing, has been the easy part. Dealing with my folks and the peeps from the old 'hood, has been the hardest part...Last Saturday night, the next door neighbors were smoking herb in their backyard, (you could smell the shit all around the block) That, and smoking cigarettes, and drinking alcohol. Umm, OK, I was unprepared for my own cravings for weed, nicotine, and alcohol would kick in with a vengeance. Old habits die hard. I haven't lit up a joint since I was, well...a considerable time ago... Not within the last five years! I don' judge people on smokin' weed. Too many do; that ain't my thang. Now, for your highly more destructive and addictive drugs, I do have a problem and will lecture you.

The agony! Last night I commented to Brother New York (Cocoa Rican) I've been sorely tempted for a cigarette since Saturday. Of course, I'm forbidden to leave the house under the "household convalescence rules," but you know I could charm my dear sweet younger sister to go grab me a pack. Wouldn't be nothing for me to sneak out in the back and light up in the dead of night. My folks, the warden and security guards, sleep like rocks. B.ut I'm hanging on in there. It's been a little over a month, whic is to be commended, and I will have my temptation. Boy will I! The power of suggestion is a cruel seductress... I have to remember to take it one moment at a time.

Hill and Iyanla were supposed to carry me through this tumultuous time. Unfortunately, neither author's works are holding my interest. Maybe I'm not just in the right frame of mind to handle Iyanla? And Hill is a good brother, but once I start reading him, inevitably, the comparison comes along as to why my life sucks so bad and his has reached stellar heights. Brother Harper seems to have obtained it all...sexy, talented, good writer, lawyer, friend of Barrack Obama (FOBO) . What I got? Two cats and a pocket full of lint!!! LOL.

Aw, don't listen to my negativity. Troubling me most is remaining here in my parents' home and being confronted with the demons from the past, living up to parental scrutiny, and attempting to be my own man, while relying on them for assistance. Issues. The first thing I'm doing once I get back up on my feet, literally, is going back to therapy. Happiness and I have had a strange relationship ever since I was knee high to the grapevine. I'm not sure why maintaining happiness has been a challenge, but I'm hoping to change my attitude, thereby, changing how I view happiness.

A relative purchased a copy of Peaks and Valleys by Spencer Johnson, the same author who wrote Who Moved My Cheese?. So far the book has been an easy read and actually inspiring. It's all a matter of changing one's outlook to change perspective, seeing your valleys as peaks, and vice versa. It's helping to an extent, and I'm grateful the seed is being planted. With perseverance, hopeful by summertime, I'll be in a much better place.

Ian's Inquiry: What book or books has/have inspired you to challenge yourself?

Tidbits, Part One: Smokeless & Eating

Note: I started this post eaaaaaaaaarly this morning when I wasn't in a very good mood. Be forewarned, I'm a bit bitchy, but purging some inner daemons!!! Just wait. I split this into two parts....

So, it's after three in the morning, and here I sit on the laptop, worried, tired, confused, stressed, and bereft. Why not go back to bed? Because I can't sleep. Or rather, because sleep is done with me. I sleep in weird intervals, usually its about three hours at a time, so your truly is up for the duration.

Following up with my earlier post from yesterday afternoon, 'tis true, I've been sad. However, not just, I've also been extremely irritated. Rotating between emotions for the last several weeks. frustration is boiling over. Things came to a climax Sunday after a discussion with Brother Jarrell on how hectic things at home have been. In addition, I have a tendency to heap the worlds problems on my own shoulders. The recent deaths of the young men who committed suicide, the young man found disposed in a garbage dumpster, and all the unfairness mainstream society is attempting to thrust upon the LGBT community, well my heart is just in a bad place.

To his credit, our blogging brother Corey is a saint. Or at least God sent, honest and trule. I had a meltdown on brother, enough so to scare even the most patient of Saints. Surprised dude didn't go running for the hills, but Mr. Jarrell has proven himself to be a reliable and trustworthy friend. Kudos for him.

Since coming home from hospital, my parents have cared for me so might heal better this go round. We wanna nip all this in the bud and be done with it. Btu things never seem to go according to plan, at least not in my life. My family has been supportive, but they don't understand the mess I'm experiencing. It's difficult being here, back in Philly, back home, relying on others again. I'm used to my independence, but that doesn't mean I can't ask for help, but rather I want the help that doesn't come with restriction, or price tags.

All the rules! I have to laugh here because it seems like I'm 15 all over again. Can't do this after certain hour, must do this before this particular hour, lights out at this hour... Are you serious?!?! I'm almost 40. If I want to read or talk on my cell, that's my business. If I surf the 'Net for more than an hour, which I tend to do because mobility is an issue, well that's fine. I'm not hurtin' you am I? Sheesh! Let's call a spade a spade, being here sucks. The old saying "You can't go home again" rings sooooooo true.

Not to sound ungrateful, I'm happy someone took compassion to help me, believe me. My folks are extending a generosity and compassion not many people would extend to their children who're almost 40. And believe me, I've read in-between the lines with some comments. I am a grown ass man, why the help can't I can't take care of myself, right? That subtle unstated sentiment looms heavy in the air, I know. It's not just my parent though, so let's give them a little slack. But my parents are well known for their criticism and constant remarks on other people's lives and what folk should and shouldn't be doing. Christ. Living here, life is constant examination under the microscope.

An example. Shortly before going in hospital, I decided now was as good of time as ever to quit smoking once and for all. It's a nasty habit and in the long run I'll be thankful. But the road hasn't been easy and I'm having cravings still after several weeks. Well, like most folks who quit, I've developed a lil bit of an appetite. Dear sweet "mumsy" has decided to lay into about my eating habits, questioning where do I put it all, blah blah blah blah.

Now, I should mention that I am a thicker brother. It's in my genes. Unfortunately, I didn't inherit the "tall" traits from my mama's people and got stuck with the heavier, big boned genes from my daddy's Southern peeps! Frag! Hard to believe this child here started out life at less than 6 pounds when I was born.

Life has been a struggle to maintain an appropriate weight. It's oh-so-damn-easy to fall off the wagon, but I don't wanna be grossly obese or not cute anymore, so I do my best to work on things. Besides, you know gay men are more shallow than a little bit, so I'm not trying gain anymore girth than necessary. To that end though, I will ashamedly admit, I do have poor self-image, reinforced by the voices over 39 years how I was too this or too that. Tends to work on a guy af'er while. dealing with the residual negative self-esteem issues from childhood hasn't been fun in life. I don't enjoy discussing it. That's part of the reason why you probably won't see too many pictures of me on this blog. I simply hate how I look...but that's an even longer story.

To be completely forthcoming, weight issues are a hot mess with me. It's a colossal pain in the ass. I manage to go workout or exercise, but the shit has never been anything but a burden, never fun. And to that end, I recognize I will never look like a model, never have washboard abs, or be the one turnin' head. Such is life. Like the best of us, I take it in stride until somebody gets up in my grill about things, then, "Houston we have a problem."

Whenever anyone questions or challenges my behavior involving weight, foot, or eating, I get defensive or withdrawn, depending on where my head is at. And yeah, I've been known to stop eating too. Don't mess with the bulimic behavior too much though. (That scares the crap outta me, but shallow, sick part of me thinks I'd rather be a thin and sexy than some vile vilified hog.)

Dealing with post operation stress, the craving for nicotine has increased tenfold. All I wanna do is escape into the backyard and toke on some toxic chemicals. Yeah, I know smoking is probably the worst of habits, but it was my thang. I do and don't miss it at the same time. I don't miss running to the convenience store in the wee hours for a pack nor the price of a pack, but I do miss the tranquil comfort it gave, even if I did smell like an ashtray. At least I never smoked in the house! That was my rule. If I wanted a damn thing bad enough, then come snow, sleet, cold, dark of night, warmth and heat of summer, outside on the deck I was...

Let's Get Lifted!

I forget how old my granddaddy, my father's father's father, was when he came to the United States, but I certainly wish the Old Man had lived to see the day relations between his Homeland and The US started to ease.

Making good on his campaign promise, "Forty-Four" has begun the process to lift travel restrictions for Cuban Americans to return to see relatives back in Cuba. Thank you President Obama.

Unfortunately, I'm not Cuban-American enough to qualify to travel to Cuba...too much other ethnicity swimming in my gene pool. Plus, I wouldn't know if any of my granddaddy's people are still alive in Cuba or not, but I live in hopes some day I might be able to visit Granddad's home country of Cuba...see the street where he played, where his parents worked, glance upon "the land of beauty" as he always told me it was.

Someday. The current measure is a foot in the door for the eventuality all Americans might have better relations with our Spanish speaking-neighbors to the South. I, for one, will smile a smile for Issy Sr, my granddaddy...