I really dislike New Year’s Eve. With just under two hours before the clock tolls midnight here in California, allow me to tell you why.
When you think about it, it’s all just a farce. People will try and spin New Year’s as a chance for change, to allow the tide in so it can wash all the regretful decisions, hurtful actions, and nasty habits from your life, allowing you a soft, sandy smooth beach to start over with. But, in case you were unaware, the tide comes in every single day, and tomorrow is as much of a new day as today was yesterday.
I know I’m not the only one that feels a little lost around the holidays. The season tends to focus on family, and love, and togetherness, and acceptance, and for anyone who doesn’t have one or more of those things, the have-nots tend to overshadow the haves, despite all the “be grateful” crap thrown around the airwaves. I’ll say that I am blessed with an amazing family that I absolutely adore, and loves and supports me unconditionally. However, it’s difficult not to think about the fact that, as my cousins get married and have children and my aunts and uncles and parents age into retirement, I’ve been single for a dozen or so years at this point with no end in sight. Being single in and of itself isn’t the problem, really, because I am a staunch believer in the idea that one must be comfortable within his own skin before a relationship with anyone else is a viable reality, but it’s gotten to the point where my “own skin” needs a bit of darning where it’s been well-worn. Continue reading
I’m at a crossroads, I suppose you could say. That point in every man’s life when he looks at where he is, what he’s done, where he’s headed, and double checks within himself that all the choices, decisions, endeavors, relationships, advice taken, advice ignored, and each step along the way was the right thing to do at the time. I’m 30 now; shit’s gettin’ real. Continue reading
For the past two years, I’ve worn an insulin pump as part of my diabetes management. As wonderful a tool it can be, I’m finding the negative side effects affect mostly my social life. Guys, whether they be new friends or potentially more, have often made jokes about it, thinking that I still use a pager and am not hep to the smartphone age. Though, every once in a while, someone thinks I’m a doctor, which is initially flattering but then leaves me reeking of unfulfilled potential. But more often than not, the jokes are either allusions to drug deals or snobby critiques of my retro choices in personal electronics.
Attempting to show that diabetes can be sexy. Or, at least isn’t completely unsexy.
Posted in Dating, Health, Introversion, Rant, Sex
Tagged body image, dating, diabetes, health, insuiln pump, nick jonas, sex
I find it a bit funny that The Great Depression began in the end of ’29, because as I turn 30, I can’t help but feel like my stock is plummeting.
Posted in Dating, Health, Introversion, Life Changes, Musings
Tagged chronic pain, cognitive behavioral therapy, dating, health, physical therapy, rehabilitation, single
I was born to two San Franciscan natives 29.93 years ago in suburby Walnut Creek, California. I grew up in California, and with the exception of a minor three-month stint in Seattle when I was 21, I haven’t lived anywhere else. So I realize this puts me in a bubble, a place where I can see what’s happening around me, if I choose to, all the while protected from some of the harsher realities of the world.
Posted in Gay Mentality, Musings, Politics, Rant
Tagged America, Christianity, Constitution, DOMA, equality, freedom, politics, religion
You know, it’s kinda funny.
When I was younger, I always felt out of my age. My mind and soul, as pretentious as this may sound, were larger than my body, requiring more elbow room for anecdotes not yet experienced and emotional roller coasters yet to begin. When I was ten, I felt thirteen. When I was thirteen, I felt sixteen. When I was sixteen, I felt nineteen. When I was nineteen, I felt twenty-five. When I was twenty-five, I felt thirty. And now, just shy of a dozen weeks before my thirtieth birthday, I feel… ancient.
No, wait… that’s not really funny at all.