Pictures

I have pictures over at Flickr until I can get my whole .Mac gallery figured out in my brain.

You can see Reno in my pictures...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/30236646@N08/

My brain in Oklahoma

So, I have been in Oklahoma City all week. It is really hot here.

In my hotel, the elevators are Schindler Brand elevators and all I can think about when I get into them is "Schindler's Lift".

I hate my brain.

Death of a Dream

When I worked at Shinder's News and Books, I was able to get wholesale comics. I could pre-order what I wanted and then I would pay cost for them as a perk for working in a nightmare world.

But I wised up, and left the world of retail and a company that treated me like pond scum and got a real job. And I lost my comic connection, but I had friends who worked at this little store named DreamHaven. I wasn't getting whole sale, but it was in Dinkytown, close to home and I liked the people. They even gave me a 10% discount card that is good forever. Like, I never have to renew it, it is my discount for my life or the life of the store.

But then the Dinkytown location closed, and the Uptown location was my only option. It was ok, it was a bit more difficult to get to, but I could get there and it was on the way home from work. It was a bigger store, the people I knew worked there and it was my shop. Every friday, I would visit and get my comics and talk and laugh and go home. A weekly end cap of fun and monetary transactions.

However, road construction and an icky economy forced another change. They would be moving their location to a new store, further away, but I like them and I would follow them to this new location. That was, until, I was told the truth. The owner had laid off all my friends. They would not be following him to the store, no one would. It was just going to be him. And, he was cutting down things that he didn't feel sold well, like comics. So, I could still get my comics, but I would need to have a big list and make sure that things that they carried freely before were on that list since chances were, I would not have a wall of comics to choose from. Just some best sellers and things he knows. But worse, I wouldn't have my people. My Friday crew, the people I have visited for the last 12 years or so. What made it a joy to shop there would be gone.

And I thought about it, and the joy of comics has been leaching away as well. Call me old, call me grizzled or whatever, but I don't feel that they have the same quality they did before. That comics simply aren't what I remember them to be.

So, when DreamHaven closes it doors and opens some new ones, I will not walk through that new set of doors with them. A hobby of 24 years is coming to an end (as much as I can. I am sure a few titles will still work into my home, but maybe not). I am sad that this had to happen to such good people, and I am upset that they are left in the cold from a store they gave so much of their lives to keeping up and running and friendly.

Goodbye DreamHaven. I will always keep my lifetime card in my wallet and remember when.

Happy iPhone day

I will be over in the corner crying. Don't mind me.

Pokemon 151

http://www.pokemon151.jp

I can not tell you how much I want these shirts.

Japan only. *pout*

Pride and Past

This last weekend was filled with events, something I tend to avoid since being busy all the times makes me especially crazy. But some weekends it’s unavoidable and this last weekend fell soundly into that category. It isn’t that I wasn’t excited for the two events, but that things like this make me tired and long for sleeping, one of my all time favorite activities to do on the weekend. These two things being the big Twin Cities gay pride events and my 20 year high school reunion.

It is hard to think about my past life in high school, since it is easy to confuse what really happened with what I saw in a John Hughes film. After all, I am pretty sure that I didn’t use a computer to make a perfect woman. That doesn’t sound like me at all. But did I have cake with the high school dream hunk for my missed 16th birthday? That just may be. Either way, I was heading back down memory lane and visiting people who I haven’t seen in 20 years. I always want to think that my life in high school was normal, that I wasn’t the same self absorbed teen that I see in others when they arrive in my training classes, that I was somehow different. But I wasn’t. My only hope is that in the many years since I left, the ugly edges and sharp barbs have worn away and left me as something much more than I was. I was prepping to run with the old crowd again, the people that meant so much when we were forced to live and breath in the same crowded halls, and the people that quickly spun away when the one tie that bound us was cut and we were free to become who we wanted to be. It is unfair to say that they completely slipped away, after all we kept tabs on each other, and Heather and I still spent a great deal of time together post high school. But for the most part, they were gone. Each of us off on our own adventures, new characters entering the stories of their lives, while we all got our own spin off shows. Like Rhoda and Mary Tyler Moore.

The first event for the reunion that I went to was the family picnic. From the start, I knew that my visit would be brief since children, as a rule, annoy the crap out of me. My tolerance for watching them run amok lasts about an hour and then I want to wail and gnash too. Still, I wanted to see people, sniff out a bit of their stories as a heads up before the madness of the reunion would be in full swing and catch a glimpse of them in their normal lives. Heather was there, of course - my safety anchor in a sea of unfamiliar faces. Some of the old gang was there, Jessica, Carrie, Heather, Becky and more, and I was thrilled to be able to talk with them for a bit. As we shared bits of our stories, Jessica turned to ask me "Where is your beloved?" and my first response was "Who?" It wasn’t more than a few seconds before my brain figured out just what she was talking about and I let them know that Brent was home still. Later, when I told this story to Brent, he had the same reaction to the term beloved. "Who?" and when I made the connection, he asked, "Who uses that term? What are we, vampires or something?" His other comment was that he could only see himself using that term with a heavy hand of sarcasm and that pretty much sums up who we are as a couple. I can’t really fault him for it, since I am exactly the same.

10 years ago, I made Brent come with me to the 10 year reunion and we had a wonderful time, but there were far fewer people. My graduating class was nearly 700 people, and 20 years later, 230 of them decided to attend the reunion. That isn’t to say that this time it wasn’t fun, I did have a wonderful time. But with 230 people, it was much harder to connect with everyone. Each of us were masters of summing up the last 20 years into two or three sentences before moving on to the next person and repeating the same story. "After HS, I went to the U of MN, I worked as an actor for 6 years. Hated it, temped at AT&T where I still work as a trainer. So, I teach people. Brent and I met in college, it has been 15 years. And you?"

The old gang got more of the story. That is where the real magic was, in touching back on who I was to these people and just what we all meant to each other. Old photos proved that I was much younger at one point in my life, and if it was possible, much gayer too. Attached is Brent’s current favorite picture of me, which is from 1987 and I think proves that I invented the Sex in the City pose. It was odd to be with people who knew the old me so well, who had secret knowledge of the times before college and in so many ways, helped shape just who I would become. I never really thought about before, but I had always assumed that I found my personality deep inside me, free from other’s influence and that I was unique and special. But really, in talking to my dear friends, I could see bit of myself in each of them. The parts of my sense of humor in Seth, the hyper energy in Heather, the level head in Jessica, the freedom in Carrie, the joy in Becky, the sense of duty in Monica, and so on. Crazy to remember just how much I needed these people, and in many ways, how much I still need them in my life in some aspect. Of course, many things that I already knew were confirmed. I always pretended that people were clueless about my big gay secret, but most of them weren’t. After all, look at some of the pictures from that time and it is like a big old sign over my head. I knew on some levels that the treatment I got came from my obvious outsider status, but that was ok. In talking with Fitz, whose hyper energy has not dipped since I knew him 20 years ago, he confirmed that most people knew the big secret. Hard to really call it a secret I guess. But then again, there were plenty of people still in denial until Brent was in their face at the 20 year reunion. A few people, in their drunken state, say to me "I am so happy that you are happy." This code phrase is so familiar to me. In telling this story to Seth, he said, "I would have said, 'I am so happy that you are happy – liking wieners'". That is the level of class I grew up with. It would only get worse with my friends in College, but that is a different and ongoing story.

I was also surprised at some of the anger people still had at each other 20 years later. Every so often, you could see that fire light back up in their eyes, some old hurt ripping open once again even though the details are now fuzzy and hard to place. It seemed really silly to me to still be angry about something that happened when you were a kid. A kid who didn’t know shit about anything yet somehow thought all of the answers were so clear and obvious. But, in the end, it was fabulous. Reconnecting with people who I still care about, whose well-being still makes me smile and knowing that they still remember me with some fondness, was worth the price of admission. Which was $50, and you would think they could have turned on the AC in that place. This is Minnetonka people, were the money is supposed to live. Splurge on air.

Sunday saw the Pride parade, the annual 2 hour 'sit on the side of the street and watch a moving commercial' event that we attend just about every year. There was nothing special about this year that was any different than any other year. Being Minnesota, the amount of really freaky people is small, and mostly, we have families and friend around us. Sitting on the side of Hennipen Ave, watching the floats and wishing I was a sleep was par for the course. Julie, Claire, Julie’s sister-in-law and her kids, Julie’s mom, Brent, Brian, Nersi, Chad and I were all in attendance this time around, and we had our typical snarky fun. Claire, it turns out, can scream louder than ANYONE I KNOW. But that was good because it attracted the attention of the candy throwers for the kids. Once the parade passed, Brent who hates crowds and walking, took Brian home and I went to the part with the girls to meet up with Nersi and Chad. I am not sure why I go to the Park and then I see all the people, and I remember that the people watching is so awesome. Plus, much like the reunion, it gave me the chance to see people that I haven’t seen since last years Pride. And walking around the park with beefy Chad is always entertaining. As Nersi said to me, "It’s like being Harvey" and that just about made me pee.

Rise from your grave!

Wow. Everything old is new again. Looks like Shinder's, my old employer from years gone by is back.

As BEYOND SHINDER'S!

Which is a really stupid name. But I guess if you want immediate recognition, than stick with the name that was pulled through the mud by the former owner. It's all good, baby!

Upcoming

So, in just a few weeks, I will turn 38. My friend Ann told me that I can't now deny that I am in my late 30s, but honestly I thought I couldn't deny it when I turned 37. Apparently, I could and I didn't get the memo.

Previously, I was more into my birthday, but right now I am not so much. I think it is the pressure that people put on getting close to 40. I don't feel that pressure, really, since I can't imagine that turning 40 will feel much different than turning 38, or even 30. These relative ages are more of a sign that I have survived than anything else, I don't subscribe to this idea that just because there is a zero in my age that something big needs to happen. If I want something big to happen, then my age has little to do with it. Of course, I could look at it as I am running out of time, but to feel that pressure I would need to set a goal that would need to be completed before death. I don't really have such a goal other than live long. (and prosper).

I haven't blogged here in a while because I really haven't had much to blog about. I think Tycho on Penny Arcade summed it up for me "'Who the fuck do you think you are? Who are you that you can force your Goddamned minutia on other people, your stupid bullshit, your stone-ground artisanal condiments? How dare you. You should be ashamed.' And I was." Really, unless you want to hear about my meal plans and work drudgery, I got nothing. I could talk about going to the gym, but "I go to the gym 4 days a week now" really sort of sums that up.

I can tell you that I had a soul crushing new hire class that has seriously called into doubt all of my skills as a trainer and a professional. This group pushed me to limits I didn't know I had and drained every ounce of charity, honesty and fairness from my body. The level of disrespect was appalling and they are now famous in our center as being the worst class that we have ever had. And that was my entire month of April, dealing with them and trying to maintain my sanity. As of this writing, I still don't want to deal with people because I don't have any reserves of patience left. In my 4 years of training new hires, I had only had to fail 1 person. I failed 2 in this class. 6 others were put on notice out of 17. I can't imagine how anyone in a high school teaching job can deal with students with this mindset without trying to kill them all. I guarantee that they aren't paid enough to keep the homicide in check.