7-17-07, 11:52 PM

Well, I just had my first date with Chuck Winkler. He's quite handsome, funny, easy to talk to, and all around a nice guy. Sexy, too... but more of that later.

I met Chuck on Bear411... I thought his profile was hot, so I messaged him "Hey there" He responded and there seemed to be mutual interst. I normally don't fret until people respond on there, but I foudn myself checking over and over and being very excited when he replied. Each time he replied.

So we exchanged phone numbers. I told him to call me whenever he wanted, and my phone rang within five minutes. I am usually apprehensive about talking to Internet Strangers on the phone, but I was eager to answer this one, and the conversation was easy. I told him we'd go out on Wednesday, and he said that worked, just to call him.

Well, I texted him on Tuesday because I didn't want to wait, honestly. Don't know why, but I didn't. We planned dinner at 6:30, details to follow. I told him I'd call him after work, and I did. We decided to meet at my apt, so prompty at 6:30, my phone rang and he was here (we all KNOW how punctuality makes me hot.)

We had dinner at Doneraki, which I don't love, but it was okay. We had a sizzling meat platter of beef, chicken, sausage and shrimp. Not the meal of a lifetime, but the company was good. We didn't run out of things to talk about at all.

After dinner, we had a discussion about shoes. He didn't know where to shop for them, so I took him into DSW. He liked the place. I'm always happy to show a man a good place to buy shoes. :)

I didn't want the date to end, so I took the risk of inviting him up to my place when we got back. My place is not clean right now... I mean, it's not gross, but it's not a showplace now, either. I forewarned him and he didn't seem too put out. That said, he's not getting back in this place until I get this place clean clean.

I proposed a movie, even though it was almost 9 pm. He was all for it, and I chose Camp. It's a good movie, and he'd never seen it. We made out a lot during the movie. He LOVED "Here's Where I Stand" I need to remember that and get it to him!

After the movie, we TOTALLY made out! It was nice, and there was cuddling. He's good at that. He has a musk that drives me wild. We both agreed where to stop before things got serious.

Why am I documenting this? I don't know. I think because I really, really like him and felt like there was chemistry there. We seem to have a fair bit in common and I think he liked me, too. I don't know what our future holds, but on the off chance that something develops, I want to remember these first moments. And if nothing develops, I just want to remember that a good date IS possible, despite all the frogs I've kissed. Either way, I think I had a nice night. I'm gonna have sweet dreams tonight.

Welcome to this little site thingie... This is my old journal/weblog site thingie... You can now read me daily at Tim's Lounge. If you got to me from some link somewhere on the web, then please email me and let me know where. Thanks for visiting!

I've spent a great deal of my adult life working for crappy retail companies. This chronic underemployment, coupled with my own codependence, have given me the unique ability to offer a customer experience that exceeds all expectations. All of these jobs have netted me many compliments to my superiors. I'm proud of that. I have been increasingly dissappointed with H-E-B here in New Braunfels, so have started shopping at Albertson's lately. The lines are shorter and the store is cleaner. ANYWAY, I have noticed that every time I check out, the cashier circles this number on the bottom of my reciept and says "you saved $xx.xx today!" Poor girl. I KNOW she does that because somebody in the corporate office has declared that every customer shall have their reciepts circled and presented to them. I wonder if she feels belittled and demeaned everytime she does it? I pride myself on being a good employee, and I always do as I'm told, because I feel that the people who work above me should know what they're talking about, right? When I was working for one company, some executive read some marketing report that said that customers liked having their feet measured. I spent two years of my life saying THIS to complete strangers: Welcome to Craptastic Footwear! You came at a good time, because it's our Half Price Sale!! That means that EVERY SHOE is buy one, get one half off! We're so glad you are here!!! DO YOU WANT ME TO MEASURE YOUR FEET?!" I felt like a creepy foot fetishist every time I said it. Hundrends of times a day. Really. And the thing is, I don't think it helped build loyal customers at all. I think that it actually made people remember us as "that store with the creepy guy who's obessesed with measuring our feet." I don't think that's good. At all. I have been in their stores recently. I notice they don't do that anymore. In fact, all the shallow customer service they used to make us do is now non-existant. Thank God. I'm still in a customer service business, but I don't really have a "script" I have to follow. That's a good thing, because I have the fleibility to 'read' my customers and figure out what level of service they would like. And isn't that what good customer service is really about? By the way, after six years of selling shoes (no Big Gay Al Bundy jokes, please) I can now look at a person's foot and tell you their size. What a great life skill! I'm all set to be carnie or something. Just kill me. Or let me measure your skanky foot. Whatever.

There is a pair of panties in the street in front of my house. Just so you know, I live a in a great neighborhood. It is a mixture of empty nesters and young families, all homeowners. My whole subdivision is like that. To my knowledge, there is nothing exciting that happens here. It's a boring old suburb. But this morning, I woke up, looked outside, and there is a pair of panties on the street in front of my house. I'm curious, of course as to the situation that led up to the fact that there is a pair of panties on the street in front of my house, so I'm going to investigate. By "investigate," I mean "make up a story and post it here on my website about how there is a pair of panties on the street in front of my house." I'm damn sure not gonna TOUCH them or anything. Eww. Eww. EWWWW! I'm suspecting that my nosy-ass neighbor's skanky teenage granddaughter has something to do with it. She seems to be dropped off by testosterone-laden teenagers in Mustangs all the time. I imagine that it was a "heat of the moment" kinda thing. I don't know. All I know is that there is pair of panties on the street in front of my house. So, I'm not sure how they got there. I'll try not to lose too much sleep over it, but now I'm faced with a dilemma: who is in charge of removal? Is there a number at city hall that I may dial and tell them there is a pair of panties on the street in front of my house? I've looked in the blue pages... no such luck... apparently, I can have roadkill removed, but panties... those are MY problem, buddy! Why do I even pay taxes, I ask you? I really don't want to move them, but I don't want them to stay there, either, so outside I go, with a Ziploc baggie. I'm not sure WHY I picked up a baggie, but I've found in this life, if it's a confusing, scary situation, it always helps to have a Ziploc around.... so I have the Ziploc, and decide if I turn it inside-out and put my hand inside it, I can pick up the panties, and can seal them, and throw them away. So I began walking toward the pair of panties in the street in front of my house. WHOA. As I got nearer, I discovered that whomever these panties belonged to had either a severe problem, or one HELL of a night. I won't be very specific, but I WILL say that whoever left the pair of panties in the street in front of my house left a CONSIDERABLE amount of DNA on them. I keep wondering if it's a Halloween prank or something, but as I told you, I think it was that hussy that lives next door with her nosy grandfather. SO... to sum it up... I'm standing in the street holding a baggie, confused about what to do, feeling dirty, and I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but there is a pair of panties in the street in front of my house. I finally got them up. The operation required two plastic forks and a very large, stand up Ziploc baggie. They were gross. I hope whomever they belonged to got a good shower. I think she (HE?!) needed it. I’m keeping my eye on the hussy. I hope I never have to do that again. I still feel dirty.

saw my ex last night. I have not written much about my ex, because, though I no longer feel seething, uncontrollable rage at him, I do not seem to be able to write about him with out sounding like a bitter queen. I have actually written a lot about him, but you'll never see any of that HERE... SO I'm oin Austin last night, enjoying my night, minding my own business, when I look up, and lo and behold... there's Bob. Shit. Up until last night, I didn't know where he was. I lost track of him around mid-1999, and while that bothered me somewhat, it helped to relagate him fully to my past. I have better things to dwell on than this... man and what he did to me. But it's really hard when I see him at a coffeehouse. Drunk. With this bitch he used to hang out with that I HATE. Let's just say at this point that I do NOT regret my decision to leave his ass in 1995, and while I wish him no harm, that's about as nice as I'm going to be. Turns out, no matter how bitter I can be writing about this, I couldn't sound any more bitter than he apparently IS. He really doesn't understand that the way he treated me was unacceptable. Since we split, I've began dating and made new, healthier friends. I've evaluated my life and made changes. In short, I've moved on. Since we split up (and we're talking about SIX YEARS AGO, people!) Bob has (according to his bitchy friend) not dated but twice, and talks about me everyday, and how I screwed up his life. First of all, why have his friends stuck around? Oh yea, misery loves company. Second of all, Bob and I have not had daily contact for six years. If he's still miserable, then I don't have anything to do with it anymore. He needs to move on. I REFUSE to feel bad, or to blame, for his bitterness. It's actually one of the reasons I left him... all of his problems are because he grew up poor, or because his stepfather was a jerk, or because his boss was a bitch... it was never about HIM. SO, last night, when he made a scene in front of my friends, I didn't get angry (yes I did, but I've thought it over). I feel kinda sorry for him. He looks older now. If you think of what your face looks like when you eat something bitter, that's what he looks like. Such a shame, because he used to be a very handsome man.

Welcome. I'll freely admit that I have neglected this site recently. I'm just a bad blogger... ACTUALLY, I've been keeping a blog at another site, and have not missed a day since I began, over three months ago! Impressed? (I am.) ANYWAY, I've decided to not shirk my blogspot duties any longer. I have restyled the page somewhat, and taken away the Dreambook (nobody ever signed it) and added a "comment" feature that is a lot like a dreambook, but will allow you to comment on individual posts, which is what I wanted originally... Please comment freely, as I enjoy knowing how my writing affects other people. In the (hopefully) not-too-distant future, I'm going to bring the blogspot and the other stuff together under a single URL, and that'll be a really cool thing. I'm "rehearsing" that now, and we'll see if I can get the content and everything put together nicely. I'm going to have a few recurring series of columns, and it should be lots of fun. I can tell you this... the site will be beautiful... I'm going to steal some of the best code imaginable... Well, that's all for now. I hope that you will check in with me often.

Gosh. Mom and Dad and I went to a great brunch at Gruene Hall, and had an EXCELLENT time. This brunch was just a part of their Texas Wine and Music Festival held this weekend. There was a little wine tasting going on, and Grady Spears, the head chef and owner of Reatta in Fort Worth, was the guest chef. He made Shiner Bock-battered fried oysters. YUM! There was a great band there called Hot Club of Cowtown that was just PERFECT brunch music given the setting. All and all, the whole time was great. I got to spend time with my parents, and that's always good. It's ironic really. During our brunch, we were talking about how things, while not getting back to normal, were at least seeming to feel BETTER. Folks were beginning to get out more and such... After we ate, we were contemplating walking around Greune and looking at the antique shops and such, but we were literally too full to enjoy the walk, so we decided to go on a good ol' fashioned Sunday Drive. We thought we'd drive through the park, listen to music, and just enjoy ourselves for a bit. The song on the radio was "Shotgun Willie" sung by Willie Nelson. We were commenting on what a beautiful day it was, and when the song ended, we were continuing our conversation. We ALL stopped short when we heard "and in case you haven't heard by now, we are currently bombing Afganistan." WOW. We knew it was coming, but we were so... at peace today. The sky was clear, the birds were singing, and somewhere, on the other side of the world, we were busy ruining the infrastructure of one of the poorest countrys in the world. We decided to go home and watch MSNBC instead of the drive. Some boob was driving around, honking his horn and waving a flag. I'm just glad he wasn't shooting a machine gun in the air. My town has few rednecks, but they really come out in full force sometimes. I didn't personally feel like celebrating when I know that people, some of them innocent, are losing their lives. Don't get me wrong. I don't think what we are doing is inappropriate. I belive that the campaign of terror that bin Laden and his ilk have waged on civilization must be stopped, and I'm somewhat sure that this might be the best way to stop it. I'm just sorry that the world is in this state. I'm sorry that our children have to live through this. I'm sorry that I have to live through it, but we all do, and (God willing) we will end up with a better world in the end. Right now, that is the best-case scenario. I don't know what the worst case is, nor do I care to speculate. It's just too scary. So I've decided to live my life, and trust my government. It's the least we can do. I am happy to see the rest of the western world align with us, and hope that we can keep our alliances, even when we no longer have a common enemy. This will be the true victory, no matter what happens in Afganistan. God bless America, and the rest of the world. We need it right now, maybe more tha we have in ages.

Yesterday, I watched the entire prayer service from Yankee Stadium. I'll tell you what... that was a moving couple of hours. I cried a lot, and yet I reveled in the hope and resolve that these people have. It was a great service. There were clergy from eight different world religions. As I was watching them, I was struck by how alike all these religions were. The name of the deity was different, but the theme of love, understanding, eternal grace... those were the same. They were MUCH more alike than they were different. It's amazing that over the thousands of years that mankind has been forming various theologies, they end up being so universal in theme. This not only validates the existence of a higher power to my mind, it also gives me great hope that we can all get along. I'm becoming less judgmental than I used to be. As a gay person who grew up in a politically correct society, I have never had open hatred for other individuals, but I have had private, unspoken prejudice toward certain cultures and people. These have made me ashamed of myself, so I have hidden them. I have never spoke of them at all until now. I know that prejudice comes from a lack of understanding. I have friends of many colors and backgrounds, and I have liked each one for what they have taught me, but I remained biased of their color or background in general. Instead of these attacks reinforcing or building my prejudices, they instead crumbled and blew away, like the dust in those towers. I don’t know why, other than the fact that I’m grown up now and can reform my own opinions, or perhaps because in the face of such terror and sorrow, I have realized that life is too short to hate. There has been talk of the good that has come in the face of such horror. We can hope and pray that the unity this nation feels continues for a long time. The ultimate victory in the War Against Terrorism will be the total tolerance in our society.

I'm very concerned about travel in Texas now. Texas has a great freeway and highway system (we ought to. It's CONSTANTLY under construction), and driving, esp. between the major cities, is pretty easy, but Texas is big. If you were to drive from Houston to L.A., you would drive over half the trip inside Texas. El Paso is just past the mid-point. A drive from San Antonio to Dallas is about six hours. To combat these distances, Texans have taken to the air. Southwest Airlines, Continental Airlines, and American Airlines are ALL headquartered in Texas. Flying is a big part of our economy, and a big cog in the intrastate travel wheel. Security checks (which I don't begrudge. WE NEED THEM) will add, at least for now, about three hours to the flying experience. One can drive from Houston to Dallas in that amount of time, so flying NOW TAKES LONGER THAN DRIVING. If you don't drive, or don't want to drive, then your only other option now is to take a bus. Texas has no interurban train service, except some limited trains in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. Each time high speed, interurban train service is proposed, it gets shot down by the airline lobby (who has lots of influence; it's no mistake that three major airlines are based here). I think the time is nigh for renewed development in the rail industry.

Friday. A Day of Prayer and Rememberance. The shock has worn away, and the tears are flowing freely. Words are not adequate to express the tragedy and travesty. Personally, my emotions are very raw; I feel as if I could break into tears at any moment. I haven't been able to sleep well for days. My heart breaks everytime I see a flyer looking for someone that is most likely dead. Pain and loss have become a way of life for over 5000 families in this country, and for everyone else, we are left with pain, anger and more pain. I think our way of life, our sense of security and ease of travel will never ever be the same. I mourn and pray for these things, and pray for the future of this country. God Bless America. Please.

In times of trial, I have to admit that I spend much of my free time attached to a television, watching the various news channels. Here's my impression of the various news outlets, and how I think they've served me, and helped me stay informed during these horrible hijacking and bombings. I've always been a big fan of MSNBC, every since they signed on. Brian Williams kinda freaks me out with his orange makeup and white circles under his eyes [tanning bed victim? perhaps], but all and all, they seem to do a good job delivering balanced and fair reporting. Then again, I prefer my local NBC affiliate's news team so I usually watch NBC Nightly News, so I may be used to that voice. CNN of course has proven that they have the resources to report from mulitiple fronts and can get pundits on the phone better than anyone I know of. They are the old standby, but they no longer stand alone on the cable dial, even basic cable. And I think that MSNBC gave them a run for their money. Some of the 'off the beaten path' news channels, which are part of my digital lineup, also did a pretty good job. We have a channel called International Newsfirst, which has basically been a feed of CNC, the Canadian News Channel. It has been interesting to watch them because they seem to show more of a world reaction to this. The covered the people who were diverted to Canada when we put a ground freeze on all of our airports. They had many thoughtful stories on the border crossings between Canada and the United States, and I really enjoyed them referring to us as "South of the Border." Similarly, it was MOST interesting to watch the BBC on BBC America. I always enjoy the BBC News. I consider it be the foremost news organization in the world. Unfortunately, just a few hours later, BBC America went back to showing their usual programming, and I didn't have the BBC anymore, though C-SPAN showed Breakfast, the BBC's morning show (much like NBC's TODAY show, without the obnoxious Americans waving in the background). I literally wish I could watch Breakfast every day, disaster or not. Here in Texas, we have a channel called TXCN, the Texas Cable News Network. They basically showed the CNN feed, while they broke every ten minutes to tell us how this affecting Texas. (Kind of an interesting viewpoint, and it makes sense if you, like myself, have lived here in Texas for any length of time.) About midday yesterday, my cable system in San Antonio added a channel called New York 1, which is a local news channel carried on Time Warner Cable in New York City. This has been heartbreaking to watch, because they are spending a lot of time showing people wandering the streets, looking for people that everyone pretty much knows is dead. Heartbreaking. This channel has made the tragedy real to me. It has been said that the Gulf War was the first war that was broadcast live on TV. Television news has changed the way we see the world, and I'm glad for it. I have over ten channels commited to the news right now. I keep watching, but I still wish I didn't have to.

The period of life where I wanna "rock and roll all night, and party everyday" is SO over. I'm not saying I'm opposed to going out and drinking, I'm just saying it's going to be few and far between for me. Special occasion kinda stuff, and I'm not talking about the "I-spell-checked-this-document,-and-it-was-perfect-when-I-typed-it" kinda special occasions. As recently as three years ago, I didn't think it was unusual to stay up all night partying. I could hang with the best of them, just ask anyone who knew me: I was a LOT of fun to hang with. I still am, but I don't drink to excess anymore. The past few times I've gone to a bar, I haven't drank at all. Whether I'm driving or not, I just don't like the feeling of being out of control. I have spent a LOT of money in therapy getting my wits about me and clarifying my thoughts, so why cloud them. I LOVE the lucidity that I have gained by being mentally healthy. I don't want to lose that, even for a few hours. Party folk might think this kinda boring, and they are right. I LOVE a night on the town, but I'll take boring over not knowing how I'm going to get home, because I'm too drunk to drive. That's excitement I can live without. I find when I DO go to bars to meet friends, etc, I either don't drink alcohol at all, or I drink VERY sparingly. As for illegal drugs, FORGET IT. Sudafed messes up my sleep for two days when I take it, I can only imagine what cocaine or meth or E, or whatever would do to me. I never really took drugs (rare for a person with my particular brand of mental illness... we tend to self-medicate) but I gotta say that there is NO way I would consider it now. All and all, it's not as bad as I used to think it would be. I'm just happy to have my wits about me, and able to take care of myself if I need to.

Anyway, what has been really on my mind today is the plight of a woman was perched on the Ship Channel Bridge in Seattle, contemplating suicide. Her misfortune was to do so during rush hour. Apparently, some drivers didn't seem to care about a human life, only that their time was being wasted, so they taunted her, telling her to jump. The cable news networks have picked up on this story, and it was the topic of Talkback Live on CNN today. Apparently, in today's world, it is easy to find someone willing to say things on TV, via satellite, that make them look like total and complete assholes. I watched with outrage as a man said that suicide was another form of natural selection, and depressed people don't deserve to live. I'm sorry, but I'll have to take that issue personally. You see, I'm a person who has suffered severe depression. I've had it since I was a little boy. If not for my loving family, I might not be here now. They have rescued me several times, not from suicide attempts (Thank GOODNESS), but from severe, debilitating depression. Imagine feeling that if you left your house, the whole world would just defeat you anyway, so why bother? I literally had to be moved out of an apartment I lived in because the power got turned off. I had the money to pay it, but I couldn't get out of the house to do it. I barely walked my dog or ate. I'm not a stupid, moody human being. I just don't make enough seratonion in my brain to keep my mood elevated. A combination of drugs and therapy have made me whole again. I'm actually happier and better balanced than I've been since high school. So you can imagine what I was thinking when I heard the "natural selection" comment. I was livid. Then I was indignant. Then I was sad. Indeed, after sorting through my emotions (something that cognitive therapy has taught me to do) I decided that I was mostly sad because there are lots of folks out there who hurt everyday. It is beyond comprehension the sheer number of people who sufer from chronic depression. I'm lucky: my family has the resources to help me get better. Therapy (at 120 bucks an hour, four times a month) isn't cheap, nor are the $150 worth of "head meds" that I take each month. As far as I'm concerned, I can't afford NOT to take them, but what about those less fourtunate than myself? What happens to them? I know what happens, because I've seen it. We've ALL seen the old man who sits on the street, unwashed, looking sad. We've seen the drunks in the bar, the drugged-out prostitute on the street. We've seen these people and we've even laughed at them, but their pain is not funny. It strikes me that us laughing at a drunk is just as bad as the people taunting that poor woman to jump. It's easy to kill a soul that's almost dead. It's much more difficult to smile, and tell someone hello. I'm going to try to make a point to do the more difficult thing now. As the old saying goes: There, but for the grace of God, go I. The woman in Seattle? She jumped. She's one of the few folks that has jumped off of that bridge and lived. She's in bad shape, but the papers say she's going to be fine. The hospital is overwhelmed with the gifts and sentiments that have flowed from the public. I wish her the best.

I love where I live. I live in New Braunfels, Texas, a midsize town of about 50,000 folks, right between San Antonio and Austin. The city is located on and adjacent to I-35, so it's about a thirty-minute drive into San Antonio, and about fourty-five-minute drive into Austin. In addition to that, we are blessed to have attractions of our own here. The city is one of the oldest in Texas, with two rivers that are perfect for tubing or rafting, and we are home to the Travel Channel's #1 rated waterpark, Schlitterbahn. (I KNOW the site is annoying, sorry). I work at a hotel here in town, and so I've become interested in the tourist trade, which is, of course, our biggest industry. Living here is really cool, because the tourists all have to eat and shop, so we have restaurants and stores that most towns this size wouldn’t have. New Braunfels has worked hard to be a place where families could come for fun. Schlitterbahn has seven different water attractions for toddlers, for example, and many young families do indeed travel to see us. As a general rule, the waterpark is where everyone with the kiddos go, and young, single, party folks float the rivers. Many many folks who float the river are drinking constantly during their journey, some of which can take eight to twelve hours. It is not uncommon to see people arrested for public intoxication on the rivers, and the river outfitters are quick to warn that the police are watching. Late this summer, I had a LOT of college kids stay in the hotel. They were pretty well behaved at the hotel, but after floating the river all day, they emerged from their rooms during the evening, sunburned and barely dressed, and asked me where the bars were. Despite living here (off and on) since I was about their age, I was stumped. I simply don’t go out in bars here in town. My reasons for this are many. First, I don’t go out to bars that much, period. I used to, but those days are kinda behind me. Secondly, I don’t have many friends here in town, they are in San Antonio and Austin. And LASTLY when I DO go out, I usually prefer to go to gay bars, since I’m, you know, GAY and all. However, armed with a great nap this afternoon (six hours!) and a morbid curiosity, I decided to see what the local scene had to offer. I was surprised at some of the places we have here in town. My first stop, since I was hungry, was at Applebee's. I know, I know… it’s not local, and I hate chain restaurants, but I had heard that the bar area was quite happening. Indeed, when I arrived, there were lots of folks who seemed to know each other, and there was LOTS of drinking going on. I ate my meal (which I highly suspect was frozen at some point), had a Shiner Bock ($2.75), and got the hell out of there. The crowd: pathetic boozers, mid 40s. The music: Muzak, Soft Rock. Television: didn’t pay attention. But there was a sign on the TV that said “Due to copyright restrictions, we cannot turn the volume up to an audible level. My next stop was a place called The Garden. It was basically a big patio with lots of folks on it. I didn’t stay long, because I felt so… Anglo. The scene at this place was reminiscent of a Hispanic family reunion, complete with Tejano music and little kids running around. I basically walked through, and left. I never DID see the bar, nor did I eat any of the barbeque that they were selling. The crowd: Hispanic family reunion. The music: Tejano. Television: none, but the DJ did have a variety of Radio Shack/Spencer Gifts party lights. My next stop was a place called The Watering Hole. I knew where this place was, but had never ventured inside. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, and the unsettling “saloon” tag made me wary. Indeed, as I was walking in, there was a couple walking out, but I head a distinctively un-western bassline booming, so I went in. I was surprised. This place was packed! You enter into a bar area with tables and a uniformed cop checks your ID and stamps your hand. There was no cover charge, though they appeared to be set up to take them. The décor of The Watering Hole is… can we just say eclectic? There were many odd things hanging about, most of which had nothing to do with anything else. It’s actually rather fun, and it seems to work. The traffic flow was AWFUL, as there were lots of little narrow places that bottleneck the crowd. This bar comes equipped with at least three pool tables, and two electronic dartboards. Moving through the building, I was impressed to find another room with a dancefloor and another bar area. The bartender there sucked, and didn’t pay attention to who had been standing there the longest. I decided I’d find another bartender after he ignored me for over 5 minutes. I wandered through the mostly young crowd, getting eyed by people of both sexes, until I FINALLY found a bartender who was able to reduce himself to giving me a Shiner Bock ($3.00). As I sipped the beer, I wandered BACK to the dancefloor area to get a better look. I noticed that there were LOTS of really bad dancers, but that could be due to the shitty music. It was KISS-FM kinda stuff: Destiny’s Child, Will Smith… R&B and soft rap radio crap. No visible sign of a DJ, though the website claims they have one. There were some OKAY lights, at least they were professional-grade, but there did not appear to be any kind of intelligent lighting. Gay bars have always had the advantage over straight bars in this area. I could imagine myself having an okay time if I were here with friends, and I’ll probably go back, especially when I have friends in town. The crowd: young, somewhat attractive, and drunk as shit. The music: Will Smith. Destiny’s Child. ‘Nuff said. Television: they had LOTS of TVs, all tuned to different channels. Don’t know if they can hook it to the unseen DJ booth and play videos or not. I’m guessing not. Straight bars are SO different than gay ones. My last stop of the evening was a place called Calahan’s Pub. I have been here before, and I kind like it, though it’s very small. It is nice and well-lit in there, and they have 14 different beers on tap, plus over 70 more in bottles. I had (you guessed it) a Shiner Bock ($2.75) and that was about it. The crowd here was the most attractive I’ve seen, and the staff was nice, too. The crowd: young, attractive 20-somethings. The music: Jukebox, but it’s got a good selection, ranging from Alterna-pop to disco to Harry Connick Jr. Television: They were on, didn’t pay attention. There are some other places here in town to go, and I promise I’ll review them later. Until then, you should come to New Braunfels. It’s a great little town, and there’s lots of fun to be had.

Miss me? I've actually been writing, but not posting... I've been pretty personal, so I apoligize for the lapse. Here, for your reading pleasure, is a description of my latest drama... ENJOY! It’s been said that a person doesn’t really miss technology until you don’t have it, and I guess that’s true. I become quite unsettled when my “always on” internet connection isn’t, and I’m sure the folks in California are mindful of the wonder that is electricity this summer. However, I have suffered a technology outage FAR WORSE than any of these minor annoyances: I ran out of anti-perspirant. I didn’t mean to run out. I actually put a new container of Ban® Clear Soft Solid—a product so advanced, they had to invent a new way to package it—in my basket last time I was at H-E-B, but it somehow never got it home. I don’t know where it went, but it wasn’t on my receipt, so I guess I dropped it or something. The point was, when I turned that wonderful dial on my old bottle yesterday, there was no product advanced, and I was SOL. Why you ask? Because the Ban Clear Soft Solid is just that—clear, soft and solid. When you put it on it dissolves immediately into nothingness, and you are left with the faintest trace of a scent, and… nothing else. For the next eighteen hours or so, I’m free of sweat under my arms, and free of stench related to said sweat. There’s no other grooming product that works so well, except maybe the Gillette Mach 3, but that’s another discussion. So, I was out of my usual. I went digging. I thought maybe SOMEBODY would have left some sort of product around my house, and indeed, I found a never-used stick of Speed Stick Original Scent Deodorant. This discovery gave me pause, because I have NO idea how this sort of item would have found its way into my house, but there it was, I figured it must have been bought by mistake at some point. I’ll say it was a mistake. Why do they still even make this product? The moment I put it on, I knew I was in for a day of suffering. The stuff smelled like a combination of aloe vera and PineSol. It smelled STRONGLY of this, but that wasn’t the issue: I felt as if I had smeared wet lollipops and syrup under my arms, they were so sticky. During my entire eight hour workday, I didn’t sweat, but that’s because I control the air conditioner. I felt on the VERGE of sweating, and IF I had done so, I would be in really bad shape, because this smell was going to increase, and I’d be sweaty, sticky, and VERY Original Scented. People who know me will NOT be surprised to know that I went IMMEDIATELY after work and bought two containers of my regular Ban® Clear Soft Solid (Shower Fresh Scent). No, I don’t suffer well. I guess I’ll go take a shower, and then marvel in the wonder that is… personal grooming technology!

I turned thirty a few months ago, and I’ve had a hard time with it. I don’t mourn the loss of my youth—I know LOTS of folks who are youthful and vigorous in their forties—I just had a nagging sense of wonderment. I wondered when I grew up. I am still sometimes shocked that I am an adult. I’ve been one for twelve years already (at least legally, on paper), but I’ve never taken myself seriously. I still feel like I’m doing something wrong when I go into a liquor store… I’m usually pretty sure they are going to ask me to leave. I also feel strange traveling. Make no mistake. By the time I was eighteen, I was a pro at airports. Because of our school schedules, my sister and I flew to join my parents on vacation when I was only 16. We drove to the airport, got on a plane in Houston, and flew to California, all without any parental oversight at all. This was not uncommon for me, nor was it very heroic, but I STILL think it was pretty cool, and that was almost half my lifetime ago. For some reason, whenever I travel, make a major purchase, or any other really “adult-type thing,” I feel like a little kid, that I don’t belong doing what I’m doing. I literally can’t believe they are letting me spend grown-up amounts of money, or letting me be responsible for thier car or hotel room. I AM a bit more comfortable being a grown up than I used to be. As I grow older, I think folks take me much more seriously than they did in the past, and I likewise take myself more seriously. It’s one of the privileges of growing older, I guess. There’s got to be SOME kind of good to come from it, because I am sometimes SO STIFF when I get out of bed in the morning, and I find myself requiring more sleep than I used to. Mom says that gets much worse. YUCK! At least I’ll be taken seriously when I complain about it.

Another site note: At the end of every post, there is now the opportunity to post your thoughts to my Dreambook. This is exciting, in that it give you, the reader, the chance to talk back to me. I hope you take advantage of this, because I really like what everyone has to say. I'm trying to get more elegant with my HTML skill, but it's a process, and thanks for bearing with me. I look forward to reading what you have to say.

Hey there, loyal readers! This is a little article that Kim Holzer published over at her site a couple of weeks ago. I hope you like it. Kim edited it a bit, and did a great job. Thanks, Kim!

I spent the weekend around gay people. Even better, I spent the weekend in Oak Lawn, the gay part of Dallas. I know that since I am a gay person, this might not be entirely shocking, but it was different this weekend. For those of you who may not know, most major cities have some part of town that has a concentration of businesses and establishments that cater to gay people. I like such areas because when I am there, I don't feel as “different” as I do when I am in mixed company.

My first few visits to places that were predominately gay, such as community centers and (yes Mom) bars, were very freeing and liberating. I felt as if I had found my people. I still remember how good it felt to find a place where I belonged. If I thought a guy was cute, I could say so to my new friends, and they would agree with me, instead of running me out of town with torches. I learned a lot about myself, and what it meant to be gay. In short, I came out.

I have always liked visiting gay areas. The term gay ghetto is an anachronism. Since they are usually near downtown, the real estate in such areas has become very desirable and expensive. Contrary to popular belief, there aren’t just bars in such a part of town. There are plenty of those, but often a community center and a bevy of restaurants and little shops that sell things like highly attractive decorative accessories and tacky, tacky disco clothes. These shops and eateries are usually fun to browse and get in a good dose of people watching. Larger cities with populations over a million or so have grocery stores and chain retailers, usually a Target, in the gay areas. During the eighties, the rise of HIV and AIDS prompted the opening of doctor's offices, clinics and pharmacies in the gay areas. The more-pleasant nineties also saw the addition of gay-focused bookshops and coffeehouses, as well. In short, larger cities have a little self-contained community just for gay people and the people who love them.

When I lived in Dallas, I would sometimes catch myself not leaving Oak Lawn for months at a time. It was my home; my friends, job and church were all there. I had no reason to leave, so I didn't.

Last year, I moved back to my hometown of 15,000 people, and the closest thing we have to a gay part of town is my apartment. I miss my friends, but I didn't realize until this weekend that I missed Oak Lawn, too. It was nice not to have to watch what I say and do. I miss the unspoken camaraderie that exists. I'm not saying that life in Oak Lawn is entirely wonderful. In fact, there is a larger than average crime rate and it's not the cheapest place to live, but it was home for me and my friends. Some may say that increasing acceptance of gay people has rendered such areas obsolete. Indeed, there is an increasing trend to locate bars and businesses well into the suburbs. I think this is good thing, and I support it. But it's still fun to go to our own little de-militarized zone and hold hands with another boy while I'm shopping for tacky, tacky disco clothes and sipping overpriced coffee.

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Today, I’m going to tell you about a lady I’ll call Pam. Pam is a friend of my mother’s, and very accomplished in her job. But that is a very small part of who she is. Pam is first and foremost a mother. She has three children, and they are the light of her life. If you were to see her talk about them, you wouldn’t be able to debate this fact. If there is a school or sporting event that conflicts with her regular work schedule, she will work another time. Pam is a devoted wife and mother. She’s also deaf, or rather, she used to be. At the age of six, Pam was stricken with meningitis. She lost the hearing in one ear completely, and her right ear began to steadily lose hearing. More than thirty years later, she had less than three percent hearing in her right ear. Pam reads lips and, partly because of her late, or postlinguistic, loss of hearing, can speak quite intelligibly. She communicates beautifully, and is easy to talk to. She’s able to email and fax most anyone not in the room with, and so leads a very typical life. About six weeks ago, Pam informed us that she wouldn’t be around for a while. She was going to have a cochlear implant. Today was her first day back to work, and it was interesting to hear what she was experiencing. She is in awe of the everyday sounds that we take for granted. She said she did not realize how loud a toilet flush is, or what music sounded like. She is able to hear her fax machine beep when she receives a fax, and believes that she will one day be able to use the phone again, something that she has been unable to do since she was a teenager. The one noise she told me she loved was her children’s laughter. For Pam, the pain and expense has been worth it. Just like anything else, though, there is a negative aspect. Along with the joys of laughter and birds singing, she is also inundated with the everyday background noise of life. Traffic is a bad noise for her, as is a restaurant full of people during the dinner rush. These times, she is literally in sensory overload. Of course, she will eventually get used to these everyday noises, much as we have grown accustomed over the years, but (here it comes… you all know me pretty well… say it with me…) it really got me thinking. We are so accustomed to our lives and the way we experience it, that we accept our familiarity as the norm. That is quite appropriate because, for you, that IS your reality. But sometimes, if you look at a situation in a fresh new way, you will see that there are many possible truths for that given situation. Pam is experiencing a different reality, and her life is becoming richer because of it. My goal this week is to look at my patterns of perception and see how I can change and improve my life for the better. It’s spring, so I guess I need to shift my paradigms around and see what I come up with. After all, we may be able to hear, but how well do we listen?

HP has these new commercials that I find hilarious. They talk about fame, and how our society is obsessed with it. They point out in the commercial that even chefs are celebrities nowadays. The ad goes on to say that people such as inventors are the people who are actually changing our lives and making a difference, not the boy bands (theirs is called “Down 2 Earth”) and the fitness gurus. For as long as people have been selling, advertising has been a reflection of the society to which they sell. I find this to be a fascinating way of studying sociology, and, in this case at least, quite accurate. I don’t know when I realized it, but I’m never going to be rich and famous. The great thing about this is that I’m fine with that. I don’t want to be adored by millions. Fame is just too expensive. I don’t want the scrutiny that the National Enquirer or the Internet brings. I don’t want to have to worry about my appearance so much that I’m consumed by it, and I don’t care what Joan Rivers or Mr. Blackwell thinks of my clothes. I simply know that kind of life is NOT for me. Most any lottery winner will tell you that, while mega-money solves a lot of problems, it creates just as many more and is not always all it’s cracked up to be. Tales abound of ordinary folks who have won vast amounts of money going nuts because everyone they’ve ever known has come out of the woodwork to ask them for a share of it. That is why most lottery winners shun publicity. I would, too. I’m not saying that a little notoriety isn’t sometimes a bad thing. I would love to have salon.com or Vanity Fair publish an essay of mine, or be asked to read an essay on National Public Radio. That said, I don’t want someone breaking into my house and sleeping in my guestroom while I’m home, either. Surely there is balance somewhere I guess the ultimate satisfaction for me would be to live a comfortable, stable and happy life, where I make those closest to me happy, and am able to pay all my bills and have some left over for when I’m old. Not a bad dream to have, is it? I hope not, because those are the sum of my goals and aspirations. Incidentally, if you’re with All Things Considered, This American Life or any other NPR program, please email me here.

WELL, the phone fell off the wall, and I’m NOT SURE what kind of metaphor that is, but I’ll put it back up, and not analyze it too much.  I apologize for the lack of postings this week… I just started a new job.  I’ll post this weekend, for sure.  Thanks for reading me, and also for those of you who have written me and told me you’ve missed my postings.  Fan mail already!See you soon.

Gadgets have always fascinated me. I love to go to the housewares store and look at all the various and assorted contraptions you can buy to perform everyday tasks with greater ease. The fact that you can buy one of several inventions specifically to peel an apple, for instance, is fascinating to me. I don’t peel apples, but that’s not the point. Though I (very) rarely cook, I have two drawers in my kitchen devoted to such labor saving devices. My enthrallment with gadgets doesn’t stop at the kitchen, not by a long shot. I am famous among my friends for my use and attraction to such things. In a world where gadgets such as cell phones and Palm devices are becoming more and more commonplace, I was an early adapter. I got my first cell phone in 1989. It was huge, but I could make calls from wherever I was, as long as I had a three pound battery with me, and didn’t want to talk for more than 10 minutes. As phones have gotten smaller, my fascination with them has grown. I always want the ‘latest and greatest’. I currently covet a new Nokia model 8890. Another neato, gotta get gadget (which my father ALSO has, lucky fellow) is the Titanium Powerbook that just came out. These devices are literally SEXY to me. They are among the best examples of functional design I’ve seen in a long time. My current bout of deep introspection has caused me to probe why I desire such things. I think its because I want to feel special. I wasn’t the most popular kid in school growing up, and my social skills developed really late (like, after college). One way I stood out was with my clothing (even though they were making fun of me, I loved to be called Polo Boy. Talk about low self-esteem!), and with the things I had. Because of my dysgraphia, I carried a silent, battery-operated typewriter to class with me. In 1985, such a thing kind of made me stand out. Even if it ostracized me, I was being paid attention to, and this was good. After the Relationship From Hell (more on that in future columns) I began to make friends, and I realized that these folks liked me, just because I was Tim. This is ironic, because I made these friends in Dallas, a city with a reputation of being quite shallow, especially in the gay community. Many of the people I met back then are still my friends. I talked to one on the phone last night for over an hour. I don’t have to impress these folks. I just have to be myself. Even though I know this, I still find myself falling into those habits. It’s hard being human, but all and all, I think I’m pretty good one. I’m glad I’ve been able to find people in my life who agree with me. All that being said, I’d still like one of those new Nokias, and that new Kenneth Cole store they are building near my house? The staff will most likely know me by name. I can’t help it. I’m human.

I recently did something radical: I hung the phone on my desk up on the wall. I don’t know why I’ve never thought of it, because my desk faces a wall that has a whiteboard on it. I jot down ideas and thoughts on it and it helps keep me organized. Immediately in front of my keyboard was a two-line phone. Not just any phone, mind you… but a big ‘ol honking phone that was almost as big as my keyboard. I’m not sure, but I think you can call yourself on the damn thing. It’s really advanced. ANYWAY, the other day, I was sitting at my desk, daydreaming in a way that only an ADD person can, and I got inspired. I thought “WOW… I could hang the phone on the wall, and have ALL this extra desk space!” I was inspired, and I began my quest. I went to the garage and (eventually) found two screws that I thought would work, and the electric screwdriver. It took some work, because the wall that I hung the phone on is apparently bulletproof (first sign of attack, I’m in my office, thankyouverymuch). The phone finally got put up, and it’s WONDERFUL where it is. I find I enjoy my desk more, because it seems less cluttered. The phone is more accessible, too. I don’t know why I didn’t do it before. That stupid phone got me thinking that if I could improve SO much with such a little thing, than maybe I could make, for instance, ONE small change in my own habits and make a huge difference elsewhere. I have many faults and weaknesses, but I sometimes think that such problems are insurmountable and impossible. Because of this, I usually don’t make any change at all, and end up stuck and mired in my bad habits. This is where you, the readers, come in. During my extended introspection, I decided I was going to begin writing and posting my writing here. That small amount of should help me in other areas, as well. Improvement is never easy, but as somebody much wiser than me said, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.” I guess this is my step. Please walk with me. My next post will be Wednesday at the latest. I hope you are enjoying reading this as much I like to write it! Let me know what you think (good or bad) by sending me email. Thanks.

Welcome to all the Life and Stuff readers! I'm glad you stopped by. Please let me know what you think! I'll have a new column posted on Monday, come see me then.

Okay, so now comes the introductions. I have decided to begin this weblog of my life so that I may have a creative outlet for expression. I decided to do this for several reasons. The first reason is that (if I do say so myself) I'm a pretty good writer. I am able to communicate and express myself pretty well. I have a learning disability that makes physically writing by longhand a horrible, almost literally painful, experience. I think that one of the reasons this was so painful to me is because as a child, I was a voracious reader, and I KNEW that I had these words in my head that could express myself, but I couldn't do it. Thank goodness, I learned to type (and type well) during middle school sometime. It is a skill that I value very much, for it gives me voice on paper. The next reason that I wanted to do this is because I DO have things to express, and no outlet for it. It is kind of an exercise to force myself to do it. I want to be consistent, so hopefully I can keep it up. My goal is to post at least three times a week. That seems realistic for now. That said, I reserve the right to change this at any time. The third reason is that I have, for the last four months or so, been reading an essay a day by Kim Holzer. I have been watching her write and thinking not only "hey, I can do that", but also "hey, I WANT to do that!" Thanks, Kim for the email exchanges, and also for letting me be a guest columnist on your site. It really was a huge honor to me. I hope that my site is as fulfilling to me as yours has been. Next column, I'll write a bit more about what sorts of things we will discuss in this, as well as some of my future plans for this. A hint: I'm going to register my own domain!