Tornado vs. Oak

There I talk of a Tornado in Atlanta tonight. I capitalize the word Tornado to give it respect. You see, a Tornado almost took my life once, but be it the will of the universe, sheer luck, or the tornado changing it's mind and rolling elsewhere, I was spared. I was three years old. My mother and I had just returned home from a shopping trip with my grandmother and cousin (actually, he was my uncle, but since there was only a year between us, I called him my cousin). It was a beautiful, amazingly sunny day in rural Manning, South Carolina. I still remember how blue the sky was that day. The air silent, and calm. I can remember being happy...

My grandmother dropped us off at our mobile home, which was on the edge of a long dirt road which led up to the house owned by the people we rented from. The mobile home was surrounded by enormous, hundred year old oak trees, trees that used to both intimidate, and shade me as I played beneath them. We went inside as my grandmother, with my cousin in tow, drove off down the dirt road. Almost immediately after closing the door, my mother noticed how windy it had gotten. Huge streams of breeze were gusting into our open windows, blowing items from their usual resting places on side tables, counter tops, and night stands. We could feel the wind physically moving us as we were stumbling around our home. My mother instructed me to help her close the open windows. I ran into my bedroom, climbed up on my bed and began cranking the window shut. As I was closing the window, suddenly I found myself hanging from the handle. A few quick jolts, and a slam. Chaos... noise... screaming. We had no idea what was happening. My mother stumbled to me, grabbed me and we began to run out of our home. Swinging open the front door, we prepared to bolt down the stairs. We stopped dead in our tracks. Our stairs were no longer there. Looking out we could see that they still sat where they always had, yet we were about 50 feet away from them. The Tornado had picked up our home and wrapped it around a tree while we were inside. If not for the protection of those intimidating oak trees, we may have flown farther, maybe flown to our deaths. Oak...capitalized.

Still unclear what was happening, my mother grabbed me and we leapt from the mobile home onto the ground and ran furiously towards my grandmothers car, still in the driveway. We could see the car was rocking side-to-side, literally balancing on two wheels one way, then slamming down and lifting onto the other two wheels. Still we kept running. We were being pelted by baseball sized hail, but still we ran, believing in the safety that lie in my grandmothers station wagon. We jumped in the car, still dazed, crying. My grandmother hit the gas and we sped towards the garage my father worked at, a mere mile or two away. I can still remember crying, screaming that I wanted my pillow and my Matchbox cars. It's funny what comforts children value...

We pulled into my fathers workplace. I can still remember the big grin on my father's face as he saw us pulling in to pay him an unexpected visit. My mother was incoherently screaming out the window the events that had just occurred. He tried to comprehend. When he had finally grasped what she was saying, he laughed it off, thinking it a joke. Where he stood, there was not a cloud in the sky, the ground was dry, and the air was still. It was not until we drove him to the debris of what was our home that he believed. There, surrounded by fallen, mighty Oaks was the rubble that we used to call home...

So you see, I owe my life to that Tornado, or maybe to the Oak. Did the Oak fight furiously to hold onto our home and our lives, while the Tornado fought and fought to take us as a souvenir of its journey through Manning? Was there a terrible battle, each vying for victory, for the lives that each held in its hands? Did the Oak win? Did the Tornado admit defeat, or just give up and move on? I'm not sure I'll ever know, but respect is given regardless.

Tornado. Oak. Thank you.

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The music that completes today's look is"Blow Wind Blow" by Alison Moyet.

Pussy?

Sometimes I think I'm a pussy. Whether it be innate cowardice, years of emotional baggage, prior whacks to my self-esteem, or just nature, I cannot bring myself to go up and introduce myself to someone that I am interested in. I see a person across a room, often staring or smiling at me, and I just can't make a move. For years I have carried secret crushes on people and have been unable to start a conversation.

Even as I write this -- and the inspiration for today's blog -- I am sitting in Starbucks pining away for two guys. One, I have wanted to meet for at least ten years. The other, a more recent crush -- only the past four months. I should go up and introduce myself, but can't. Pathetic, huh?

I always describe myself as shy. This makes those that know me absolutely guffaw, as I am known to be a very outgoing, open, entertaining person. But when it comes to that initial contact, I clam up. Once someone talks to me, I am completely open and can carry on a conversation with the best of them. But unless someone else approaches me first, it just won't happen. Probably explains my dating life -- or lack thereof...

So what is the root of this inability to approach others? I think it could be traced back to a multitude of hurts and disappointments in my life. Could it be the abandonment I felt when my father disappeared from my life at age three? Never having a male role model to teach me confidence, strength, and go-gettedness I'm sure took its toll. I certainly wish I could've had the confidence my father was known for. He was a tall, masculine, good looking man who, from everything I've heard, could have any woman he wanted -- and basically did...

Could my apprehension come from the sexual abuse I suffered in my early teen years at the hands of a Catholic priest? Certainly my trust issues stem from the abuse -- hard to be a gay man when you have trouble trusting men. Certainly my ego was bruised, and my sense of self was destroyed during the years of secrets and hiding in the aftermath...

I wonder if it could be due to the basic insecurity I felt as a closeted gay boy in high school in a small South Carolina town. Unable to ever approach anyone for fear of being ridiculed, ostracized, outed or beaten, I lived a lonely existence in high school, almost reclusive, with only a few good friends. This pattern has extended into my adult life, as I have rarely had more than a few close knit friends, not wanting to cast the net of trust too wide.

It could be the hurt I've experienced at the hands of past boyfriends who decided, for one reason or another, that just having me was not enough and strayed into the arms of other men. This has certainly made me wary of relationships and, of course, only adds to the caution I give before extending trust.

Clearly I have good reason for not putting myself out there. But why can't I get over it? Friends say, "What's the worst thing that could happen? That someone rejects you?" Ummm...yeah. That's a pretty significant result in my book. Some people can let rejection roll off of them. My skin is too thin. Rejection seeps in and stirs around my body and mind, staying around a bit too long before rolling off.

So, what do I do? Just wait for other people to approach me? Do I try and go outside of my comfort zone and take the chance on acceptance/rejection? Could it be that easy, to let go of all of the past baggage and just allow myself to move forward? It sounds good in theory, but the reality is much more difficult. Maybe I should make a silent vow to approach the next guy that I find attractive... Maybe I should think of it as a work in progress and continue to work on the issues that have lingered from my past. Maybe I should accept that this is just a part of me and accept myself as I am, unable to make the initial reach out to another man...

UPDATE: Apparently writing this blog entry has been cathartic in some way. While I was writing, a very cute man walked by the window at Starbucks, headed to the gym. We exchanged glances. I've seen him before and wanted to say hello, but, well... So, I look up a few minutes ago and he was in Starbucks. Again we exchanged glances. He got his drink and sat not too far from me. After quite a few more glances and some smiles, I decided to myself, "You know what? You cannot let this happen again and let this one get away without even speaking." So I did. I struck up a conversation, and we chatted for a while until Starbucks closed. Walking out to our cars I asked if he'd like to go out. He said "Yes." I got his number and am, at this moment, on cloud nine.

Maybe all I needed was to challenge myself to break an old pattern. Time will tell. Looks like I'm off to a good start!

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The music that completes today's look is "I Remember You" by Eurythmics.

An Early Letter to Santa

I just returned from seeing a movie at the theater at Atlantic Station, here in Atlanta. Pulling into Atlantic Station, I noticed Christmas lights in all of the trees, red and white lighted snowflakes draped delicately across each street...

These holiday decorations were not here last weekend, so I became perplexed. It's too early for "Christmas in July." Were they filming a holiday movie here? I briefly pondered over other possible reasons. Then, without my knowing, my mind just drifted and accepted the fact that the decorations were there. I found myself smiling at the beauty of the lights, backed by the Atlanta skyline, the full moon -- the one that's been looming around for the past few days -- hanging in the crisp night sky. It was like Christmas all over again...

I came home after the movie, checked my email, and logged into Facebook. I had received one of the myriad of questionnaires that get sent out by friends. This one was titled "My Personal Bucket List," a random list of things to do and places to visit. You are supposed to check the ones that pertain to you, and forward it on to other friends. Reading the list made me think of things that I've done and things that I want to do. It made me think about what I want to eventually come my way. It made me think about love, and what I am missing in that area. So, I thought it might be time to write an early letter to Santa.

"Dear Santa,

So much has happened in the last few years. I have been lost, afraid, endeared, lonely, alone, ecstatic, content, independent, elated and reborn. I have run a gamut of experiences and emotions, and am ready to find my center, find my happiness, find myself, and find my soulmate. I am actively working on the first three and am making great strides, but it is the last one Santa that I need your help with. I have always said that I think that people do not find what they truly want in a relationship because they do not know what they want. They do not allow themselves to think about what they want, accept what they want, and voice what they want. So, I am taking that step to say what it is that I want and am hoping to find in a mate...

I want someone who loves me. Truly, unconditionally, and wholeheartedly, loves me. But this love does not overshadow our own selves. We come together as two separate, happy, well adjusted, whole people, who form a life together, but never lose who we are as individuals.

I want someone who wants to see me every minute of the day, but is able to function without me -- goes to work, to the gym, hangs with friends, spends time alone, betters himself, but then comes home to me. I want this man to want the same for me.

I want someone who laughs at my stories and jokes, and never gets tired of listening to me talk, even if they've heard the story before.

I want to be heard.

I want someone to hold me, just because. To hold my hand while we're watching TV, kiss my belly button, and caress my skin. I want to catch him looking deep into my eyes in a way that I know that he is looking only at me. I want him to kiss me in public, and to be happy enough that he is with me that he wants the world to know it.

I want someone who can just chill at home, watching TV, cooking a meal, talking to each other, or just being quiet together. He should be able to dress up for a night on the town, or dress down for a casual weekend outdoors, housework, shopping, or...nothing.

I want someone who wants me...desires me. Someone who loves to look at and caress my body, imperfections and all. I want to be made to feel sexy...

I want someone to make me want to be a better person, someone who goes out of their way to treat others well, and lends a helping hand when there is a need. Someone who does things for the betterment of the world, without caring if anyone ever sees them doing it.

I want someone who never holds me back from attaining the goals that I have in life, wanting, instead, to share them with me.

I want someone who wants me to be me, whomever I decide that "me" should be.

He should want to meet my family and friends, and should accept that they are a part of my life, and share in the joy that they bring to me.

He should not play games, not have an over inflated ego, and should have a nice sense of humor. He should be honest and monogamous. He should be confident and accepting of himself, flaws and all. He should be himself and not camouflage any part of himself in the desire to hide things he might think others would judge or disapprove of. He should know who he is and what he wants out of life.

He should want to build a life for the two of us where love and warmth abound, where there is always room for both the collective "us" and the independent "us."

I want someone who wants me to love him.

And, I want someone who wants all of these things for himself.

I have a lot to offer someone Santa, as I'm sure you know. I am a good, kind, witty, romantic person, who is full of life and loves to make others smile. I am talented, and have defined goals and pursuits that I want to achieve. I just need your help, Santa, in putting these thoughts out to the universe, so that it can align the stars to help me meet my Mr. Right, whether it be be next week, next year, or even someone that I have already met.

I know you can do it, Santa. I have faith. I will work on making myself ready for Mr. Right when he comes. You just work on helping him to find me.

Thanks for your help.

Sincerely,

Me"

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The music that completes today's look is "Say You Love Me" by Jennifer Holliday.

Disconnected

I am exactly one and a half blocks from civilization.

I am in Iowa this week on business, and am working at a site that is far out into the country. Upon arriving at the site the first day I was shocked to find that my cellphone displayed an unusual message, "No Network Available." Surely I was misreading. Had I gone mad? Had my cell phone provider gone bankrupt? Was there a terrorist attack on the local cell phone tower? I mentioned this to one of the employees of the site and she asked what provider I had. I told her I had AT&T. She said, "Oh no. We're not sophisticated enough way out here to get a big company like that." What?!?

At first, there was the uneasiness: I wouldn't be able to get calls or texts during the day. "Okay, that's cool," I said to myself, "I'll be working all day anyway." Then I started to get a little worried, somewhat panicky. What if someone needed to get hold of me? What if I was having a bad day and needed to text my frustration to a friend? What if the call from that certain someone (you know who you are) didn't come through? I had to face the fact that for four days I would be be disconnected to the world as I know it.

The second morning, I was driving to the site, on a long country road, in the snow, texting away to the aforementioned certain someone. I had texted that I was probably going to lose my cellphone service soon, so if I suddenly didn't respond, that was why. I was amazed that I still had service the closer and closer I got. I was a mile away - still had it. Half a mile away - still texting successfully. Three blocks away - Yes! Could it be that yesterday was a fluke? Was the employee wrong? Then, a block and a half away from my destination, there it was -- "No Network Available." I was officially one and a half blocks from civilization...

This made me think about the dependence to technology to which I have gotten accustomed. Many times I have thought about how nice it would be to just move out to the country where you could be disconnected from the hustle, the bustle, and the bombardment of stimulation from television, the Internet, phones, and radio -- having the ability to take a deep breath and enjoy the silence. But now, here I was worried that I would not be connected to the outside world for eight hour periods, eight hours that I was, for all intents and purposes, going to be otherwise engaged. It's not like I was in a bubble. I was working side-by-side with human beings, several of whom were quite witty and kept me entertained. But here I was fretting about being disconnected from MY world. How did I get to this point..?

There was a time, just a few years ago in fact, that I did not even own a cellphone. I talked to friends only during times when I would be available to be home in order to call them and chat. Then I starting travelling for work, and felt the necessity to have a cellphone, mainly due to the exorbitant cost of calling long distance from a hotel phone. For the first year or so, I only used my phone to call home when I was out of town. Then, I would use it every occasionally when I was in town, calling home from the grocery store to see if I should buy anything specific for dinner. Slowly and steadily, without my being aware, I began using the cellphone more often, and more randomly. I got to a point where it was just part of my life. I even upgraded to a better phone, and signed up for a better plan when I renewed my cellphone service. I now take my phone most places and enjoy the convenience of being able to reach someone, or be reached, anytime that the mood strikes. The phone keeps me connected. I enjoy texting with friends, oftentimes due to the fact that I talk for eight hours a day at work, so being able to communicate to someone across town without having to talk is heaven.

So, where does this bring me? Well, I think this foray into "radio silence" has made me realize three things: 1) survival without a cellphone is possible. I won't shrivel away and disappear if I can't contact family and friends for a day; 2) I won't be forgotten. I needn't worry that I can't get -- or make -- a call or text from friends for a day. We'll talk later. They'll understand. Eight hours does not a friendship break; and 3) I need to work on spending more face-to-face time with friends. In a hectic, agenda filled life, it is so easy to stay connected through a cellphone. But that in-person connection is missing -- seeing a persons face react to your words, seeing their smile, their gestures, their eyes. Feeling their presence close to you. That is what keeps friendships and relationships strong and lasting. I am going to make and effort to meet my friends more often and to further the connection that we have. Of course, I'll need to call or text them to make plans. LOL!

Not having cell phone service this week made me realize the value of human connection. I hope to build greater connections with those I hold dear in my life. If anyone is interested in getting together, CALL ME!

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The music that completes today's look is "Do You Have A Little Time" by Dido.