Putting the Harm in eHarmony...

A few days after I flew back from the funeral, I signed up on eHarmony.

Yes, there’s a connection.

And yes, I know… I had sworn off the internet dating due to such lovely examples of here and here, not to mention other lovely experiences that I hope never to repeat, both in experience or verbally. What made me fold?

Well, whenever I’ve experienced a time in my life where I lost someone I cared about… I get a bit of a glimpse of my own mortality. I get the urge to pull other people that I feel close to…even closer, so that I don’t feel like I’m taking them for granted, and really hold onto them and not want to let go. In missing the one I’ve lost, I become more protective of the others. Personally, I think it’s actually a normal (or at least normal-sounding) reaction.

Thing is… whenever that’s happened in my life… it’s never been at a point where I’m in a relationship at the time. (It just worked out that way) And loneliness kicks in a little harder then usual… because I don’t have anyone that I can literally pull closer and hold on to.

As an individual that tends to have a hard time meeting people, and for whom the bar-scene and normal people-meeting methods don’t work… I tend to feel like my options are limited. (Oftentimes, into the low single-digits.) So, I had a moment of weakness… and I signed up on eHarmony.

I picked that particular site, because it seemed to be a little more serious-minded then the other dating sites I’ve tried. As you have to answer about 900 screening questions and give up a good few hours of your life just to get it set-up… not to mention its one of the more expensive dating sites out there… it seemed logical that the only people that would actually go through all that crap… would be ones that are actually serious about finding a healthy relationship.

Well, it *sounded* like a good theory.

I purchased a full 1-year subscription, in advance. It was the most economical (you essentially pay for 3 months, get 9 free)… and I also wanted to give myself plenty of time to get to know someone, and not rush into anything. (Even amidst my insane dry spell, I have no desire to jump into anything… be it relationship, bed, pile of mud, or otherwise) Since it was mid-November when I signed up, and knowing the upcoming holiday craziness would be… well, crazy... I made a personal resolution not to physically meet anyone until after the New Year. I made it fairly clear on my profile and in the e-mails of those I was matched up with, and they seemed totally cool with it. They said they liked the idea of getting to know me first, without any pressure… and taking our time. Great! Maybe this whole “matching” thing they had going on… actually had something to it.

Now, in terms of matches… while I was given a hefty list, I didn’t go trying to write to all of them (even though the site actually suggests you do). For one, there’s no way I’d be able to keep track of everyone and the different conversations. That’s too much like being a “playa” in the real-world, at least to me. No, I tried to keep the numbers small. While I prefer to focus solely on one person at a time… I knew that probably wouldn’t be smart here, and I should at least try to chat up more then one at a time. Face it, chances are any particular one person isn’t going to work out, but a small percentage would be worth pursuing… so the odds would increase with at least trying to talk to a few more. (Yes, I was starting to “play the numbers”. Hey, I was trying something different… Go me!)

One gal I was chatting with apparently lived in Los Angeles for a few years… during the same time *I* was out there. And then she moved back to New England, like me. That coincidence was a bit weird… but also cool. Because we had dual-coast-knowledge in common. We had nice talks on the phone… but then the calls and e-mails got further and further apart, and then stopped… having never met in person. It started to sound like she was getting too busy in life and work… and then disappeared.

One of first ones I *did* meet in person, however… I really liked. Our phone conversations were really nice, and we soon made plans to meet face-to-face. When I did… I actually thought she looked *much* better than her picture (and her picture was really attractive). She also had a bit of fire in her… during a conversation about skee-ball, a carnie game I at one time had near-mastered, she seemed to have no problem saying how she would “kick my butt” at it. I loved the fact that she openly challenged me to it… and I was definitely up to taking her on. We ended our first date… with the promise of a second. No kiss, no moves… just a smile and a promise.

Now, I tend to gauge the success of dates on one thing: If I call her afterwards and hear back from her… it was good. And I actually did heard back from her. That would make this the first “good date” I’ve had in a LONG time… and since she actually made good on the promise of a second date… which was not only the first 2nd date from an online connection I’ve ever had, but the flat-out first 2nd date I’ve had in a long time… She seemed like she was genuinely interested in me. I was definitely interested in her.

Our second date, we got dinner and a movie. The conversation during dinner was once again really nice… lots of smiling, lots of eye contact, laughing, etc. I really didn’t feel like I was “trying”… it was feeling right.

We went and saw the movie Taken (it was in the theatre at the time). Sure, maybe people would think an action-movie isn’t the best date-movie… but they weren’t on this date. And none of the other movies seemed to appeal to either of us. We both enjoyed the movie, and walked out of the theater… into a surprise snow-storm. Everything was completely coated with snow (and we had no idea that it was even supposed to). She had driven us over to the movie theater, so we had to go back to the restaurant where my car was.

I would not have thought that any part of this date was going badly. There were no really awkward moments… no clashes. Just smiles, laughs and the good kind of eye-contact (as opposed to the psycho-stalker-kind of eye contact). The end of the second date… had the promise of a third.

I started to get out of the car… and you know what? Looking at her… it felt right. I then leaned back in… going for our first kiss.

Then she turned her head.

It wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t like she didn’t see me coming towards her… she very consciously turned away.

I had COMPLETELY mis-read that situation. In the span of a half-second, I then felt like the biggest idiot I’ve ever known. (You’d think I be used to it)

I just said, “…okay, then.” And backed out, closing the door. She was still smiling, waved good-bye, and drove off. I cleaned the snow off my car, started it up, and started to head home… mentally (and occasionally physically) kicking myself all the while. I could not believe that happened… the first real time I put myself out there since *COUGH COUGH*, and I was 100% sure that the moment was right. And it wasn’t.

I am absolutely atrocious at reading body language. If I had any doubts on that statement prior, it was confirmed then and there.

And I had nice long time to think about it… because my car broke down on the way home. In the snowstorm. (Was I Hitler in a previous life or something? Seriously! WTF???) I got to sit there in the cold… and stew in my thoughts of my own stupidity, for an hour and a half, while waiting for AAA to get there.

And you know… I did call her. I told her I would (before the ill-fated attempt), and hoped that the third-date interest was still there like she said (again, before the ill-fated attempt). I make good on my promises.

I didn’t hear back from her.

The few friends I talked to about it… some of them said, “Well, maybe it was too soon for her”, while the majority of others said, “No kiss? On the SECOND date???” Looks like the minority was right on that one. While just about everyone thought it a bit odd that if the other 99% of the date was great… why she still just disappeared. But that’s neither here nor there. It was over and done with.

I licked my Pride-Wounds for about 2 weeks, then got back into eHarmony. (Who knew I even had Pride to get wounded?)

That was probably the start of everything going downhill. Because over the next several months… I had a lot more first dates. But no second-dates. Not for about another 8 months.

I had a lot of lovely times… met some really nice women. Just about all of them were ones that I *wanted* to see again. But no matter how good of a time they seemed to have, no matter how much laughing, good-eye-contact, blah blah blah there was… I never got my calls returned afterwards. It was going directly back to the old pattern it seems I’ve always known: Have a great time; I say I’d like to see them; They say “Yes”; I call; Nothing.

And before you suggest it… I was always trying different things. Trying different approaches, different jokes, different methods, asking different kinds of questions of them, sometimes a more tame conversational approach, and sometimes with just a touch of flirtation. I’d make resolutions of “Okay, I’m not going to tell THAT particular story on the first date, because even though they all want to know it, and love the telling… it never gets anywhere.” I was ALWAYS trying to vary it up. And all these women that eHarmony was telling me were “good matches for my personality”… all disappear after 1 date. 95% do so without any explanation… they just disappear. (Even the ones that had said, “That’s so rude of those other girls!”… they went ahead and did it, too. Seriously… it’s been incredibly frustrating.)

I don’t know why, but why do the majority of women I seem to meet… quit so soon? I can NOT come to a full conclusion about someone after a brief 1-2 hour first date. (You’d think I’d have an advantage from all the e-mails and phone calls prior to meeting…) I need time to suss someone out. Too much “guarding” on a first date when meeting someone completely new. Hell, I do it! And it’s because I’m so guarded, that I don’t want to give everything about me on a first meeting. I doubt anyone does.

It seems like that if they don’t get “Romantic-Movie-Style-Attraction-Sparks/Chemistry” with someone from the instant get-go… then they might as well cut it off now and continue on. Because isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?

Life doesn’t have a screenwriter. Sorry if this is a surprise to anyone.

I’ve read several articles that claim that Romantic Comedies and movies of the ilk do more to hurt real relationships then help them… and I’m inclined to agree with them these days. (Must we once again go over the concepts of Fantasy and Reality?) If you honestly think that real life can and should be like those sappy pieces of crap, then stop being so surprised when I put on a 13-foot-long-scarf and claim a big blue box is “my ship”.

I say Garry Marshall should be the first to go. Set phasers to “puree”.

There were a few women that I did hear from afterwards… to tell me that they “didn’t feel any sparks.” Which frankly, only feeds into my frustration-rant above. Same reasons… blah blah… why are you expecting them so soon?

One actually told me that she had “too much going on right now” to devote to a new relationship. Sorry to ask… but why the hell are you on there in the first place? Oh, a friend put you up to it? You let your friends throw away your money? (Like I said… eHarmony isn’t cheap. I thought that’s what would weed out the “not serious” ones) Furthermore, you let your friends push you into things you don’t want? Oh, please. Frankly, it screams “lame excuse” to me.

Oh, sure… but in *this* case you really are “too busy”, not like those other liars. Here’s the thing about being “too busy”; And I’m not trying to sit on a high horse here… I’ve been insanely busy before, myself. But you know something? If I want to spend time with someone… or pursue a relationship… I *make* the time. I rush around a lot, oftentimes like a chicken with my head cut off… maybe lose a little sleep here and there… but I make it. Especially if I think someone is worth it. A relationship would definitely qualify for that.

And thing is… I’m a patient guy. I’m willing to wait for a little time to open up in someone else’s schedule. Sure, long pauses suck… but if they at least make an effort, it means a lot to me, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Love will find a way… but *we* have to do the actual looking.

So… my time on eHarmony. I’ve had a LOT of first dates… and 3 second dates, total. Of those other 2 second-dates… both just disappeared afterwards. One mysteriously just stopped calling/writing/texting soon after said 2nd date… and the other, I started to get the impression that she wasn’t as attracted to me as I was to her, and that’s when I stopped hearing from her. (But since I’m horrible at the body language, what do I know? Maybe she never was.) eHarmony is officially a complete bust. If I ever see Dr. Warren, I’m going to tell him where to shove his 753 questions and “personality match-ups”… because I don’t think he knows squat.

And it occurred to me… I don’t actually know anyone that’s met their sweetie online. Not even an acquaintance. I have a lot of friends and acquaintances that say THEY have friends/relatives/etc that met the Significant Other online… but I don’t actually know anyone myself that it’s worked for. So… from my point of view… they could all be making it up.

There is one person, whom I met online, that I’m in contact with currently. We’ve had a first date… and a second… and even a third. We met during a free weekend on Chemistry.com. (I’ll be darned if I’m paying for ANOTHER site. That one weekend was it for me on that.) I haven’t tried for a kiss… or even a hug. I’m wanting to go so insanely slow here, my previous pace is blowing past. But we have a nice time, and I actually do hear from her… albeit sporadically. I know she is busy right now, but unlike the other “busy ones”, I do actually hear from her, and we find a little time to meet up. (Like I said… the effort means a lot to me.) Hell, just the fact that she’s an attractive woman, who’s single and *my age* gives huge brownie points… and while I’m not totally sure of her level of interest (take nothing for granted!), I am. So I’m hoping I get to see her again, and fairly soon.

If it doesn’t work out… that’s okay. But I’ve given the online method enough chances, and this is the last one. More power to you if it works, but it’ll mean it doesn’t for me.

If it DOES work out? Then that is a-okay by me, and I’ll sing the praises of online dating.

But I’m going to need a neon sign with arrows to signal the time for that first kiss. You’re high if you think I’m going through that embarrassment again.

Death-Cheating

Just after my last post of 2008, a good friend of mine passed away.

That was the start of my hiatus.

I found out, quite literally, about 5 minutes before I was leaving to go to a memorial service. (I don’t know if that’s ironic or appropriate) I was… a mess the entire day. The Memorial service was for the father of my cousin’s husband (we were there showing him support as he’s done for us), but I obviously had something else on my mind.

I don’t know if I’d consider myself good or bad at dealing with Death. I suppose it’s something that no one is either “good” or “bad” at. Frankly, I’m curious to know exactly how a “good dealing of Death” would go. Does it involve a lot of crying? No crying? A zen-like calmness and a “c’est la vie”? Crying and getting drunk *until* you get to a zen-state of c’est la vie?

My earliest memory of anything involving death was my brother waking me up one dark morning and telling me our Bampi (My Mom’s Father) had died. I was really young… probably no more then 6. I have vague recollections of the man, mostly just sitting in the background of family gatherings from that side. My brothers and I were deemed “too young” to go to the funeral.

The first wake I went to… I don’t remember who it was for. It was for a distant relative, one I don’t think I had any recollection of… we either saw them rarely or not at all. I was probably 10 or 11. The only thing I could think of was how I really didn’t think I wanted to see a dead body (yes, despite all the violence on TV, I was hip enough to know the difference between that and reality. Go figure.)… and I was actually relieved to find it was a Closed-Casket. That relief was short-lived however. After getting a drink of water, I saw my dad standing in the middle of the foyer of the funeral home. He motioned me over, so I went… and he pointed into one of the other wings (where there was another wake going on), and while I was turning my head and saw what he was pointing at, said, “That’s what an Open-Casket is like.” And I was looking at my first dead body. It was from a distance, but I could still see it was an elderly gentleman (and I recall he had a big nose). I quickly turned away, because I was still not ready for it… nor had I been ready for the all-too-sudden fashion my dad thrust upon me without warning. (He has a habit of that.)

I remember when the mother of one of my Aunts passed away. I had met her when I was really young… meaning, I don’t remember. But here, I was in High School, and we went to the Wake one evening. I spent the entire time just thinking… I felt like I should say something to my Aunt, but I didn’t know what that would be, because I didn’t remember her mother… and I didn’t want to lie and say “oh yeah, I remember her.” (If you knew my childhood, you’d probably wonder where I got this idea of “honesty” from… sometimes, I don’t even know.) When my parents told us to gather up our things to go, we all went up to her one last time to pay respects and say goodbye. When I got to my Aunt, I said, “I don’t remember her… but if she’s important to you, she’s important to me.” Then I hugged her, and we left.

My mom told me the next day, after my parents came back from the funeral (They didn’t want to take my brothers and I out of school for it), that my Aunt really appreciated what I said to her, and it made her feel better. (I guess I did something right.)

In High School, when I was a Senior, I was at the after-hours rehearsal for the school play (on a break) when I looked over down the hall and saw a few people gathered around standing still and listening to this one woman who was crying. My concern and curiosity got the better of me, and I walked over to see what was going on. When the woman finished (of which I didn’t know the context of what she was saying), and the group started to break up a little, I asked one of my other cast members what happened… and he told me that a kid in his class (the one just behind mine) had just killed himself.

It was not a guy I knew… but his sister was in my class (she apparently found him), and I would come to learn that he and I apparently knew a LOT of the same people. For awhile, I was wondering how it was I *didn’t* know him. But it seemed that just about everyone else in the school seemed to. (Though, he was part of the “jock” crowd, if I recall, so maybe that at least gave him some notice or popularity) Seeing the fallout the next morning was pretty surreal.

My first class was Physics, and our teacher was reading a prepared statement from the Principal’s Office… and everyone else was just quiet. Except for our Class President, Joe… who was balling his eyes out. Apparently, he was really good friends with the kid. When the teacher was about halfway through the statement, Joe got up and ran out suddenly. The teacher didn’t look up, just paused for a second, and then continued. Once he finished… there was complete silence… broken by me. Because I had gotten up and quickly headed for the door. I said to the teacher, “I’m going to check on Joe” and kept going. As I was going through the door, he said, “Thank you”… and I was off down the hall.

The first place I checked was the bathroom. I had the worst thoughts running through my mind, that *he* was going to try and kill himself too, or something. I dropped down to look under all the stalls at once, saw nothing, and checked the next closest one. I did see someone else in the hall, and asked if they had seen Joe, and they told me he went to the Guidance Counselor’s office. So that’s where I went. Joe was in with our Guidance Counselor (who was actually pretty useless in all of my interactions with him over the years… though he did try, I admit), and I just went in and sat down in another seat. I didn’t think I should say anything, I just felt that maybe having someone else there for him would be worth something.

For the next few hours, I pretty much stuck by Joe. Maybe it was part of my inner Super-Hero complex coming out, but I just felt like I had to stick by him and look after him. Logically, maybe I shouldn’t have done that… because I wasn’t even good friends with Joe, but I was going on gut feeling and instinct (despite my gut having steered me wrong in the past). I even escorted him to the local church, where an impromptu sermon was being given… that almost everyone in the school showed up to. I stuck by Joe, sitting next to him. I stuck by him until the sermon was over… I think he and a lot of other kids ended up going home by mid-day… I went back to the school to the scheduled classes, even though no one actually did anything in any of them. Each class ended up being an extra-quiet study hall.

I did go to the funeral services… mainly to “pay my respects”. Again, maybe logically, I shouldn’t have. But he was a kid from my school… we knew a lot of the same people (though for me they were acquaintances, and for him they were actual friends)… and his sister was in my class (again, despite not knowing her very well). That made me think I should be there for some reason or other. But I left after the church services… I didn’t follow the casket to the graveyard across the street. I just walked home.

In 1995, when I was in Undergrad, my Nana (Mom’s Mom) passed away. It was near the beginning of the Spring semester, and it was still a lot of snow on the ground. A few days before I had headed back there, I went with my Mom to the Nursing Home where Nana was living, bed-ridden. She recently had one of her legs amputated due to gangrene… and she didn’t seem to remember it. She also didn’t seem to remember my name. She looked at me with a big smile, then turned to my Mom and mumbled, “Which one is this?” Her tongue was majorly swollen and couldn’t drink normally. She had to have her mouth re-hydrated with a cotton swab that was dunked in a glass of water. It was… a bit painful to see her like that. There was also this awful stench that I had never experienced before. Later, when I asked my Mom about it, she told me that was the “rotting flesh from her bedsores”.

My Grandmother was rotting alive, and there was nothing I could do about that. That really hurt to think about.

Out of myself and my brothers, I think I was the last one to see her alive.

So, about a week later, I got the call at my dorm room from my Mom. I still wasn’t prepared for it, even though I knew it was inevitable. After I got the news, I put on my Coat and winter stuff… and just went walking. I think I circled the campus twice, when I finally ran into a friend of mine (the one whom I considered my long-lost twin, actually)… who could see that something was wrong. I managed to get it out, but was crying pretty much throughout while actually saying it aloud. (Prior to that, it was just silent, stoic contemplation) She then stuck with me to keep me company for the next few hours… which I’ve always been grateful for.

(At one point, she did say, “Um, listen… I have to say that if you’re thinking of trying to kiss me… please don’t.” To which, I turned and looked at her like she had 4 heads, with two of them singing Lithuanian Opera, and the other two licking their own eyeballs. I’d say that Sex was the *last* thing I was thinking about… except that to be honest, it wasn’t anywhere even on the list. So yeah, there’s no danger of that from me. And the thought that some guys *would* try to take advantage of that situation… dude, there’s a reason I hate my own gender.)

By the time I had gotten home for the Wake, I had pretty much cried myself out. I remember telling another one of my Aunts about my reactions, and she was surprised that I did so much crying… she had thought I was “taking it quite well.”

Still wasn’t sure what that meant.

In my next-to-last semester there, I was heading into a Tech rehearsal for the current show one Saturday morning. I ran into one of the other cast members, and I noticed he looked a bit down. So I asked him what happened, and he said how a girl in his dorm died in a car accident the night before. I said, “Oh God, I’m so sorry… may I ask who it was?” Then he told me… it was Carol Soucie.

Yes, I know this breaks the anonymity rule I have by naming her… but she deserves to be known and remembered. Carol was one of the absolute sweetest girls there was… and yes, I knew her.

When my friend told me it was her, my jaw dropped, and I was in shock.

Carol had been a neighbor of mine in our dorm the previous year, and I got to know her a decent bit from that. She also came to a lot of the department shows, and at one point I was told that “she was a fan of mine”. (No idea how true that was, but it made me smile… she had that effect on you, regardless.) This was the epitome of the unfair death. She was on her way home for the weekend and got hit by a milk truck (the driver of whom I believe I heard was drunk.)

A group of us carpooled up to Maine so we could go to the funeral. While it was a nice roadtrip… I wish we didn’t have to lose such a jewel of a young lady to do it. (Yet, she was worth driving 20 times the distance) It’s hard to say goodbye when, cosmically, you’re just saying hello. I think everyone felt cheated to not have had more time with her… because the little that we did was so good.

When I moved to California for Grad School, I was getting ready to fly back east to see one of my best friends get married. It was about a week and a half off, when one afternoon, at about 3:30 or so… I had this sudden flash in my head. A passing thought, a question, really… “What if Dzia-Dzia passed away?” (That’s my Grandfather on my Dad’s side. It’s a Polish thing.) I don’t know why… but I quickly and purposefully pushed it out of my head. It was a depressing thought, and there was no reason to have it.

When I got back to my apartment later that evening, I had a message on my answering machine. It was my Mom, asking me to call her “no matter the time”. As it was about 10pm when I got this, it was 1am where she was… so if I had to call, no matter the time… it can’t be good. I called her instantly… and she told me that Dzia-Dzia passed away suddenly that day. Recalling my earlier thought… I nervously asked her what time it happened. She said about 6:30pm… which would be 3:30 in the afternoon, my time. (I don’t really believe in psychic stuff… but that really disturbed me.) It was very sudden. He just fell over… no pain or anything. But completely unexpected.

Like when I heard about my Nana… I went walking. Trying to process it.

My parents had said to “not bother” flying back early for the funeral… it wasn’t worth it. (So nice of them to make that decision for me, wasn’t it?) As I believe I was the only one out of state at the time… I think I was the only one that missed the funeral. And it kinda pissed me off… I didn’t get to say my Goodbyes. I didn’t get the hugs I wanted or needed from my family WHEN they were wanted and needed! And timewise, I missed this all… by one week. I felt so incredibly cheated.

And it wasn’t the last time. A couple years later, just a few weeks before Christmas, the mother of another one of my Aunts passed away. This one was almost always at our family gatherings… we knew her and remembered her very well. She had gone into the hospital, and word hadn’t been good. Being the one so far away, and in another time zone, I had to rely on my cell phone for all information and staying in the loop. (Made more difficult by the fact that where I was staying, didn’t have any reception… I had to drive 8 miles into town to get my messages or make a call.) So, once I got into range of a tower, I called my parents… and my Dad answered. I asked what the news was… he said, “What?” I said, “Is there any change in her condition?”

And my Dad, in his infinite sensitivity… said, “No there’s no change. She’s dead.”

And he even said it with the tone of voice that just says, “What are you, a complete moron?”

I was shocked… not only at the news, but the complete assholishness of my own father at that moment. “Okay… when was someone going to tell ME???”

Then he goes on the offensive and starts getting mad about how my oldest brother was supposed to have told me, blah blah blah… Okay, if you want to throw blame at someone, fine… but how the hell can you hear those words from me: “Is there any change in her condition?” and actually believe that I had that information? How can you NOT say, “Oh… he doesn’t know.”?

But once again… they said not to fly back early. “It wasn’t worth it.” So, just being a few weeks away from flying back for Christmas… I had to miss another family funeral. And not say my goodbyes. Once again, feeling cheated.

And now my friend.

Now, I was living on the East Coast, and the funeral was on the West. Well, I wasn’t going to miss this one. His partner, one of my best friends, needed me… and if there was any way I could make it… I was going to be there. I lucked out, and got a decent last-minute flight into San Francisco, where I rented a car and drove the 5 hours north (the services were back in the area I went to Grad School, where we all met him)… and I was in town less then 24 hours, before I had to drive back down to San Fran to get my flight back. Travel-wise, it was a hellish weekend. But I’ll do it for my friends. Every time.

The funeral… felt a little off to me. Really for one reason. You see, I knew that he was going to be cremated… but what I didn’t know was that he had ALREADY been cremated. So, it was just a little urn there, no casket, no body.

That seems odd to me. I always saw cremation as simply the “alternative” to burying. They’re both just ways to dispose of a body, in the end. And the funeral and wake… are all supposed to be BEFORE the actual disposal. So people can say the goodbyes, look at the person one last time, remark how they look “so peaceful”… etc. But having the cremation BEFORE the funeral… is like having the wake over an already-buried grave. Makes no sense.

Once again… I felt cheated.

Funerals are for the living… this is about closure. Personally, I thought it was a bit selfish of his family to deny other people that opportunity for closure. Sure, there are different views on it, and they don’t look at it like that… but I do. And I think it’s cheating.

Sure, you can say, “But he’s still right there. That’s the ashes… that’s him. Right there! Literally!” And you’d be right, technically... he's just been converted to carbonized form. But you can’t look at the eyes of a pile of ashes. You can’t comfort yourself and say that they look so peaceful and happy lying there. Ashes don’t look happy. Or sad. They don’t look anything. It’s really hard to say goodbye to a pile of ashes, because you want to say it to a face, even if it’s not moving. And trying to say that to a picture is even harder… because that’s how they were THEN… at a frozen moment in time, when they were a different individual then. You want to say it to them as they are NOW. And now, if they’ve been converted to an unrecognizable form… and just as your brain could feel “they look so happy”, when the body is there… it is also easy to feel, “this really didn’t happen”, because it’s NOT there.

When I caught up with my friend (the partner) I asked him, “Is this a funeral or a *memorial service*?” He said, “It’s sort of both.”

It wasn’t fair. Not just losing him… but losing the chance to say goodbye.

So is that a good way to deal with it? Feeling like you’ve been able to say goodbye? Or does it come back down to the whole “crying/not-crying debate”?

Either way, the only answer or epiphany I can come up with is this:

I don’t think you can actually cheat Death… because Death doesn’t exactly play fair, either.

Hiatus...

Yeah, I know it’s been awhile… a long while. Just over a year now, in fact. It’s not that I didn’t have anything to write about… quite the opposite, actually. In some ways, I almost had too much to write about, and couldn’t get the thoughts organized. Basically, in the end, it came down to “Life got in the way”.

It’s not the first time I’ve taken a hiatus. It happens during correspondences with friends (e-mail or when I used to write actual letters), journal writing, hobbies, cooking, or most any other good habit I tried to set over the years. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about the people, or appreciate the activities… immediate issues became a distraction, and next thing you know: days, weeks, and maybe months go by.

When I turned 14, in 1989, I started a journal. (It wasn’t a “diary”… that’s for girls. Guys write “journals”… such was my reasoning concerning certain synonyms) I began it on my birthday, as a matter of fact... a small blue book. That day I had also watched Batman (the Tim Burton one) in the theater, and had considered it, literally, to be the greatest movie ever made. Much of that first entry was gushing about how I think it should win all kinds of Academy Awards, and how great it was, etc… it was typical kid-geeking-out, I admit, and nothing as truly deep and thought-provoking as I once thought it was. But it had started, what I hope, was going to be a nice habit or tradition.

Side note: It also began a tradition of seeing the current Batman movie in the theater, ON my birthday. The first time I moved away from that, was with Batman & Robin… and I used to think that was why it sucked. (I did a bit of unnecessary apologizing for it.) But in reality… it was Joel Schumacher. I re-started the tradition with Batman Begins, and it returned to greatness. Unfortunately, The Dark Knight, the best one yet, didn’t even open until after my birthday… so the tradition is fully broken. But I don’t mind so much, cause it was that good. (Okay, so maybe some things concerning geeking-out don’t change as much as we hope).

I didn’t resolve to write in that journal every day or week… I never did set down an idea of a schedule to try and keep to. Sometimes I’d write into it a few days in a row… other times, it’d go a few months without. I wrote when I felt like I had something to say or get off my chest. So, there ended up being a lot of pauses in the writing… a number of hiatuses.

But throughout High School, and then into college (where the writing became even more sporadic)… I did eventually fill up that little blue book, and then started a second volume in a little red book. That one… eventually got filled too. Then I started a third one, a multi-colored one... which never got filled. To this day, there’s still a lot of blank pages in the latter half of it. In fact, the very last entry to it was written on my very first night in California… when I flew out there by myself to try and find an apartment to live in, before I made the drive with all my stuff just before Graduate School started.

I don’t even have to look in that book to remember what I felt that night. I was scared out of my gourd. I was in my early 20s… had never travelled alone before. And while I had been involved with a road trip to Athens, Georgia… and a weekend train-trip to Washington D.C., those had both been with friends… But I had never been in a different TIME ZONE so far away from everything and everyone that I ever knew… and completely on my own. To attend a school I hadn’t even seen in person (and the stress of not having an apartment and actually feeling “homeless”). Even though it was because I felt I *had* to get out of where I had been… I was wondering, and even wrote this down in that little journal, if I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. I felt so intimidated; I could barely sleep in that room on the second floor of the Motel 6. (Which was another first for me… renting a hotel room by myself.) That was the very last entry I ever wrote… and that was just over 10 years ago.

While the story of my Grad School experience (especially the beginning) could be a post on its own (maybe some day)… I am happy to say that it WASN’T the biggest mistake of my life… in fact, it was probably one of the best things I’ve ever done, overall. While the cliff-hanger nature of that journal entry doesn’t sound so promising… I ended up learning a lot about myself… made some really good friends early on, learned a lot about my chosen field, had a great time, and I think became a better, more self-reliant person because of it. (Well, I sort of HAD to on that one.)

I’ve thought about going back to that little multi-colored journal and picking it up again on the next blank page… but I really think that too much time has passed. Because when I come off a hiatus, I feel the need to ‘recap’ what happened during that pause in writing. And… well, too much has happened. There’s no way to be able to condense it down to even fit IN the rest of that book, just to be able to get to whatever was bothering me currently. Nah, besides… I think it’s more interesting to leave it as a cliff-hanger for whatever unknown, unseen future reader that might happen to see it. Whether that’s a descendant, a lover, or some stranger picking it up at a Garage Sale.

Besides, I’ve got the blog for all soul-bearing. Plus, I think I’m a little more articulate then I was when I started at 14 (well… except maybe for the Geek stuff).

Now, I’m not going to promise that I’ll write with the frequency I did before… that was my New Year’s Resolution for that year, to write regularly in the blog. And as I actually ended up with more blogposts then I originally thought I would, (It was originally “once every other week”, and then I upped it to “once a week”) I feel okay saying that resolution was fulfilled. (My resolution for this year was to “get into Boston more often”… which I’ve done pretty good with as well.) From here forward, I’ll post when I’ve gotten something written. Maybe once a week, maybe 3 times a week, maybe once a month or more. I’m not going to worry about schedules.

I do have several ideas lined up to write about… and I will get to them. Starting with the next post about the event that started off the hiatus (which happened just after the last post). Then I’ve got things and subjects that have happened in the last year, things I’ve tried, and things I’m thinking of trying. Now, I know I never had that many readers (frankly, I never felt it was the sole purpose of a blog), at least to my knowledge… but maybe you’ll find yourself back here too.

Take care.

Religion, Politics and The Great Pumpkin

“There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people… “ - Linus Van Pelt

(I may never get such a convenient opportunity to use that title again… it applies on several levels today… though, I’m actually working backwards.)

First up, my Halloween recap:

I went back to Salem… and actually had a much better time then before. Now, the stuff I said last year still applies, so I won’t repeat that. But the biggest difference was that this year… I went in costume. So not only was I “people-watching”… but I was also being watched by people.

Now, I did put some effort in to my costume. When I have the time to actually plan out in advance and make my own costume… I do pretty well. Last time I did was in 2001… I went as a tiger. To be precise… I was Hobbes from Calvin and Hobbes (greatest comic strip ever). I was simultaneously cute and lovable, and scary and terrifying… exactly like Hobbes himself (just ask him). Man, I wish I kept that costume…

But this year, the concept of it was a little more simplistic… but still required a bit of advance work… and I made the extra effort this year.

So what did I go as?

Charlie Brown… and his costume from It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.

When I went online looking for patterns and instructions how to make it… all I could really find was “just get an old sheet and cut a bunch of holes in it. You’re all done!”

No. Sorry… but that’s stupid. That’s what he did in the cartoon… but this is supposed to be a real-life representation of it. In the cartoon, a hole in the sheet shows a black oval. In reality, it’s a hole… that you see through, and see the face beyond. There’s no blackness involved. Plus, when you drape a sheet over yourself, there’s extra material falling where you don’t want it, and not enough material where you need it… you don’t get the simple cylindrical-shape that you get in the cartoon… because it’s a drawing.

I wanted to look like I came right out of the TV and started walking around. Sure, maybe I’m a tall Charlie Brown… but I think I did okay, all things considered. I bought a sheet and sewed it to try and get the right shape, and stitched black felt “holes” all over myself. For the eyes? I bought black mesh, folded it up and put it over the eye holes. No one could see in, but I could see out fairly easily. Yet, when it got dark, I knew it’d be even harder to see… so I’d have to eventually take it off. So, I made sure to make a yellow shirt and stitched the black scribble across the belly… for the full Charlie Brown effect.

But the part I’m probably most proud of… I had an Mp3 player with built-in speakers. I loaded the music of Vince Guaraldi on it… and when I walked around, you could hear “Linus and Lucy” (commonly known as “The Peanuts Theme”) quite clearly.

I am nothing if not dedicated.

Yet, I was incredibly surprised by the number of people that not only wanted my picture… but wanted a picture WITH me. I was stopped quite frequently by people politely asking for a photo op. It was really neat… I’ve *never* had that happen before. And when they heard the music… their smiles got so big it just made me smile, too.

Though… there were a very few select people that DIDN’T know what my costume was. A few were young kids… calling me, “That tall polka-dotted guy.” (I’m tall? Well… maybe to them.) Those I can understand… maybe they just never sat down and watched the show in their mere 10 years on earth. But I did run into an older woman who apparently thought I was the “ghost of a spotted cow”… but it clicked in when I told her. The coup de gras, however… a woman ran up to me and said, “Excuse me… I’m from Channel 4 news. What are you?”

“Uh…. Charlie Brown?”

“Oh, okay.” And then she walked away. The cameraman wasn’t pointing the camera at me or anything, so I don’t know why she bothered to tell me she was from the news… but I really wanted to say, “You don’t recognize an American Cultural Icon of Halloween for the last 50 years… and you’re job is to inform the masses????” I can understand the occasional person not figuring it out… but someone in the media shouldn’t be one of them. Am I wrong?

Anyway, like I said… I had a good time. Got a lot of pictures of other good costumes, met some nice people… even saw a guy dressed as Jeebus with a sign saying, “Judgment Day is Nigh! Show Me Your Tits and I Will Judge Them.” (Which I thought was *really* funny. I hope it pissed off the obnoxious street preachers who were constantly spouting how everyone deserves Hell. Why you gotta preach hate?)

One thing I’m surprised I *didn’t* see? More political costumes. A friend and I were remarking how we hadn’t seen any all night. I only saw one as I was walking back to my car… a guy dressed as John McCain. But that was it.

I found that surprising, as we were just 4 days away from Election at the time.

Of which… to take the opportunity of a segue…

Yes, of course I voted. I got up an extra half-hour early, left my house early so I could hit the polls before work. (I knew I wouldn’t have time afterwards) The most difficult wait was the traffic. But the voting itself? In and out in less then 5 minutes. We didn’t have the new-fangled electronic voting booths in our town. Ours was the old fashioned pen-to-paper kind. Your ballot is basically a scan-tron sheet like in school, and you blacken in the little circle for the people you’re voting for. And apparently, there are no propositions right now in my state, so we’re just voting for the people. *shrug*

Normally, I keep my voting selection private… because I am and always will be an Independent. I don’t go with the whole “Are you a Republican or a Democrat?” crapola. That’s why I don’t vote in the primaries. When you enter the building, they ask you which side you want to see… and they register you AS THAT SIDE. I’m not saying I AM a Democrat… I just want to see what they have to say. I plan to do the same for the Republican side… but they don’t allow that. You’re only allowed to listen to one side in the primaries, and I’m not down with that. I want to look at one set of options and pick what I think is the best. Then look at ANOTHER set of options, pick the best one from there… then have those two choices start talking to try and convince me. They don’t let you do it that way. In the election, you can be independent… in the primaries, they have to label you. So I don’t do the Primaries.

But I did vote for Barack Obama. I think in large part because he’s more inspirational then most other candidates in the last 20+ years. And I think national esteem and identity is at a low point… and overall we NEED someone inspirational now more than ever. It’s a damn good country we have… and we want to feel good about being Americans again. I think National Identity is kind of important.

So I think that this IS a historic moment in a few ways. And not just because of the color of Barack’s skin. (Of which it’s technically false to call him the first African-American President… because he’s Bi-Racial. His mom is white, and his dad is black. Which makes him a great bridge of the two worlds, yes… but media likes to throw out buzzwords without always having the accuracy to back it up. I’m just saying.)

I’m not saying that John McCain would be a BAD leader. In fact… frankly, I think he wouldn’t be too shabby. The personality he showed at his concession speech was the same one he showed at the very beginning of his campaign… but had completely disappeared throughout the middle. Had he showed that grace in the last several months, I would have listened to him more. But I think the strategists in the Republican Party (who don’t care about policies, politics, or the best man for the job… they just care about winning) told him, “This is what you need to do to win. Now do it.” So the mudslinging started. (Hey, Obama’s camp had them, too.)

I also believe those same strategists told him to do what would become the absolute deal-breaker for me. He picked Sarah Palin as a running mate. I believe they came up to him and said, “America doesn’t want to see 2 Old White Men in the White House this time around. No matter what, the Democrats are giving them something different… so we HAVE to shake this up or we’re done for. Here, this one seems like a good puppet!”

When I first heard she was picked… I said, “Okay, let’s give her a chance. I know nothing about her, so let’s see what she’s got.” The first thing I read: She’s a staunch supporter of Abstinence-Only Education.

“I’m out!”

Yeah… because it doesn’t work. The numbers tell you it doesn’t work. The kids themselves tell you it doesn’t work. Guess what? It doesn’t work. Her own DAUGHTER is a teenage pregnancy… though, apparently that’s okay because “they’re planning to get married, anyway.” (Even though the guy’s MySpace profile clearly stated he didn’t want to get married or even have a long-term relationship with the girl. The same profile that mysteriously disappeared shortly after… Gee, who did that, I wonder?) That’s not even talking about all the OTHER things I read shortly after.

2 weeks after she was announced, I saw a book in the bookstore with her picture large and in-charge on the front… the title of the book was “Sarah: How a hockey mom turned the political establishment upside down”. Sorry, she didn’t “turn it upside-down”. It only made so much news because it was a completely nonsensical choice, that has no basis in this, or any other, plain of reality. She is not a “maverick”… no matter how often she says the damn word. I don’t care for her being a “hockey mom”… which is no slight on hockey moms. I’ve known Soccer Moms and Football Moms and many other types… but NONE of them are people I would want to place on the other side of the table… from Kim Jong Il. Or any of the other 1,000 psychos with political power in this world. (Hilary, at least, would grab them by the balls and twist… figuratively AND literally.) She has contradicted herself several times, shown ignorance and intolerance… and knowing that she might be a heartbeat away from the presidency… honestly scared me. That’s what shot McCain in the foot. If it was anyone else he picked… I would have had a harder decision.

So, I feel we dodged a bullet with this election. For that, I’m very thankful. I went to sleep Tuesday night pleased.

Woke up Wednesday, however… not-so-pleased.

When I discovered that Prop 8 in California passed. Proposition 8 is for the Ban of Gay Marriage. (Arizona and Florida passed it, too.)

I don’t care that I’m straight. I don’t care that I no longer live in California. I called that state “home” for 7 years, and many people that I love are still there… so I feel I have a vested interest in what happens out there. Finding out that several of my friends now are about to have their marriages dissolved, as if they never happened. And many more that are now told they’ll never be able to marry the person they love.

Those that know me, know that I would take bullets for my friends. But there’s nothing I can do about this. And it hurts so much, I’ve actually cried over this.

In the same 24 hour period of electing a historic president… a culmination of a movement that started with Abraham Lincoln and gained momentum with Martin Luther King Jr… as one minority group is validated, another is pushed down and is now LEGALLY considered to be second-class citizens, and not granted the basic human rights of others.

Hell, I was shocked to find that it was such a close race! (51% to 49%) I felt sure that it would be blown out of the water! But no. Why there are still people who so readily promote hate and discrimination on such a grand level… astounds me to no end.

I’ve heard their arguments… “the government doesn’t have the right to legislate the definition of marriage that’s been around for hundreds of years!” Pardon me… isn’t that EXACTLY what you’ve just done? You’ve used legislation and the political process to legally define what marriage is??? That is known as Hypocrisy.

I’ve heard their logic… “to protect the sanctity of marriage”. Okay, you’ve just opened up a can of worms… because they’re constantly using the word “sanctity”. “Sanctity” refers to something that is “Sacred”, which is a term to refer to something that is Holy or “From God”. That means you’re talking about RELIGION.

First amendment of the Constitution (correct me if I’m wrong) explicitly states that we’re allowed the “Freedom of Religion”. So what’s “Sacred” to one person isn’t so to another person… and that’s a-okay! You can’t infringe on their BASIC freedom of religion!

Wait a minute… what’s that say? Right there… look… here, at the Constitution. A little further down. What’s this, “Separation of Church and State”? Oh yeah… that means that Religion and Government have to stay as FAR away from each other as possible. One cannot dictate or influence the other.

So if marriage is a RELIGIOUS institution… then you can’t say anything, because THEIR religious beliefs allow them to marry, and we protect that with blood, sweat and history… and government can’t do anything about it.

If marriage is a LEGAL institution… then religion has absolutely nothing to do with it. Since the sole arguments against Gay Marriage is all about religion… then they have NO argument.

And if it’s both? Well, you’re doubly fucked. So take one of them and sit the fuck down. Take the other and shut the fuck up.

Proposition 8 should never have been on the ballot in the first place.

But hope remains.

There are some lawsuits already filed… trying to get this overturned. The one that I think is the most logical one has to do with “minor” and “major” changes. In California, minor changes are “amendments”, and are passed with a majority vote (51% or more). But major changes, “revisions”, have to be passed with a 2/3 majority vote.

Does taking away the civil rights of an entire demographic qualify as a “minor change”? I think not. Hopefully, the State Supreme Court of California will also see it that way. If so… then Prop 8 is 15% short, and it will be overturned!

People may have failed… but maybe Justice can still win.

So we have to remain hopeful. As hopeful as we were Tuesday night when we told the world who we wanted our new leader to be.

As hopeful as Linus, who dutifully sits every year in the most sincere Pumpkin Patch he can find… believing and hoping that The Great Pumpkin will finally arrive.

Now I’m waiting, too.