Tapping of Keys

Yesterday I noticed a post in the free section of Craigslist where someone was giving away their old Wurlitzer piano.  I thought it was an offer too good to pass up so I called and inquired.  I didn't get an answer at first, but they called me back pretty quickly.  The elderly woman that I spoke to said that it had been her mother's and when her mother passed away she inherited it.  She said that she didn't play piano like her mother and sister did and didn't have the capability to learn, so the piano had just been sitting in her house for years with no one able to give it the love that it deserved.

I don't play piano either, though I think I would like to learn.  Colin plays and is great at it.  The dude is basically a virtuoso.  He was playing Chopin on his keyboard when I got home this afternoon.  Originally I thought that I might pick up the piano and give it to him as he would be able to give it the love and attention that it requires.  However, now that I've seen it and moved it, I feel attached to it.  I'm getting ahead of myself, though.

Last night, when I got off work, I picked up Tyler downtown and went to go pick up the piano.  It was readily apparent when we got there that the piano was too heavy for Tyler and I to move by ourselves. I didn't want it to slip out of my grasp, though, so we stayed and talked to the couple for a while.  The old man said that they had owned a Subway franchise in Marshall and said that they worked 16 hour days every day which didn't give them enough time for a social life during that time, but gave them enough money to retire comfortably.  He said that once the piano was moved he was going to tear out the carpet in his living room and replace it with hard wood floors because his entire house was basically a honey-do project. The woman saw my new Jeep Liberty and got really excited about it.  I told her it was new to me and she said that I was going to love it.  She then proceeded to tell me a story about how they had been involved in a horrible car wreck once in a Jeep where the car had basically been folded in half like a V but the only injury either of them received was a chipped bone in her foot where her foot had been compressed by the wheel well.

The love that those two shared for each other was immediately recognizable.  You could tell that they were a couple that respected and valued the other in every way.  They would not interrupt each other while talking, and if one needed to interrupt for whatever reason it was proceeded by a "no offense."  I imagine that all of this had something to do with only being able to socialize with each other for the years that they worked together.  That the only way to really survive in that environment was through mutual respect, admiration, and knowing each other completely.  We learned that they were originally from Fort Lauderdale, Florida.  We learned that the woman came from an extremely musical family even though she was not musically gifted at all.  We learned that the man built model train sets and he took us down to his basement and showed us.  The set and track was huge and elaborate, easily taking up a third of his entire basement space.

As we talked with these two I felt more and more at home with them.  I felt a kinship with them.  I saw in their relationship with each other the same kind of enduring love that my own parents share.  They felt almost like estranged grandparents in a way.  I wished that we had more time to spend and chat, but it was getting late so I took the piano bench and a box of sheet music from the 20's and 30's from their basement and promised that I would return for the piano the next afternoon.

After leaving their house I headed over to Steven's.  I was late and afraid that he might be angry at me because of that, but he wasn't.  I brought the ingredients for one of his favorite meals with me (chorizo stuffed patty pans) and began cooking when I got there.  He had one of his friends over and we all talked and ate and had a great time.  I was still affected by the old couple that I had spent the afternoon with, though, and I kept looking at Steven and wondering if we would be like them in 30-40 years.  I hope so.  I really, really hope so.  I feel as though my relationship with Steven is purer than any other relationship I've had previously.  The emotion that I feel when holding him at night fills all of my pores, my blood vessels, my organs, my entire being.  It is such a strong emotion and one that I can only get across by saying "I love you," which feels dreadfully inadequate, so I say it again and again and hope that repetition will get it across.  I want to grow old with him.  I hope that he will let me.  I'm afraid of losing him sometimes, as I know that there are aspects of my life that he doesn't like.  The fact that I depend on people depending on me sometimes for one.  That I do a lot for other people instead of putting myself first in a lot of cases for another.  If anything drives us apart it will be me playing the doormat one too many times.  I have got to learn to say no and stop taking other people's problems on as my own.  I need to learn to reprioritize.

Today I borrowed Steven's truck and picked up Tyler and Colin and headed back over to the elderly couple's house to pick up the piano.  We met their dog Rusty, chatted a bit, and loaded up the piano.  It wasn't that bad with three people at all even though we did end up scratching it a bit.  The woman had her hands over her mouth the entire time.  I hope that we didn't upset her too much.

The piano really is a beautiful piece of furniture, and knowing the love that surrounded it and the memories of that woman's mother that it contains makes me want to honor it.  I want to learn to play it.  It contains the echos of lives within its wooden frame.  Echos that will only be unleashed through the tapping of keys.

Jaws of the Beast

To those who know me, it goes without saying that I have a problem.  I am too trusting at times.  Too loving.  Too easily manipulated.  Too hard to anger.  I don't believe that the people in my life take advantage of that usually, but the focus on Sam and his drinking before and since the accident has placed that problem in sharp contrast.  He made promises he didn't keep the day after he wrecked my car and last night he made those promises again.  I'm unsure if I can believe him.  On one hand he seems honest in his desire to stop drinking.  On the other I'm doubting that he has the will power.  He seemed to be hedging his bets last night, talking about how he wasn't an addict but a "buzz-chaser" and how he's going to stop drinking for a month or until he's "to the point where I feel as though I can control myself."  But that's the thing.  I know from stories from my dad, and the experiences I've had with alcoholic family members that he will never be able to control himself, even if he can't admit that yet.  He drinks for escapism, and there will always be something to escape from.  There will always be those dark thoughts.  There will always be grieving over lost relationships.  There will always be emotional trials and challenges.  There will always be sadness.  Those things will never go away.  What defines us is how we react to them and if we react by running while looking behind us then we head directly into the jaws of the beast.

I don't know how to save Sam.  I don't think that I can.  I know that he's counting on me for support and that he wants me to take drinks away from him if I see that he's drinking and I can do that for a time, but I have other directions to focus my energy toward as well.  I can't babysit him all the time.  I'm not his boyfriend.  He didn't want that.

I have Steven now.

I'm deeply afraid of these next few months.  I see green skies of drama on the horizon.  Hopefully I'm wrong.

Anger Heroin

Anger is a drug, and an addictive one at that.  When angry your heart rate, arterial tension (blood pressure), and testosterone production increase while the production of cortisol (the stress hormone) decreases.  More telling is that the left frontal region of the brain becomes more active when angry.  This region of the brain is usually associated with positive emotions like happiness and closeness, while the right frontal region of the brain is associated with negative emotions like sadness and fear and withdrawal.

What this means is that anger, while we generally look at it as a negative emotion, is processed by our brains as a positive one.  In other words, we are hardwired to enjoy anger.  Because it decreases the stress hormone and activates the closeness center of the brain we are naturally inclined to stay close to anger for as long as possible.

While there is nothing wrong with righteous anger (or anger that you feel for a just reason) there is a danger in holding on to that anger for so long that it becomes self-righteous anger (or anger that you feel just because it feels good to feel it).  Righteous anger is sometimes necessary and is completely understandable, but it should rise and then fade quickly.  Self-righteous anger is never necessary and speaks more to the fact that you have been caught up in an anger addiction than it speaks to any perceived slight against you no matter how you have justified it to yourself.

It is possible, however, to break free of anger addictions by replacing them with something else.  The best choice here is compassion.  Research from Stanford University has shown that the left frontal region is activated during meditation of monks focusing on compassion.  The same type of meditation has also been shown to reduce stress, which means that the levels of cortisol have dropped.  Compassionate meditation also lowers your heart rate and blood pressure, instead of increasing it like focusing on anger does.

What I take this to mean is that looking on your enemies (even if your enemy is yourself) with compassion instead of anger gives the same type of enjoyment to the body (lower levels of cortisol, activated left frontal region) without the negative side effects.  It has the power to break you free of an anger addiction.  Compassion is the methadone to your anger heroin.

My dad told me the other day while we were out eating that I should still be pissed off at Sam because of the car.  He didn’t understand why I wasn’t.  This is why.  I was angry for about 30 minutes and then realized that that anger would not only have a detrimental effect on me physically and psychically, but also a have detrimental effect on the relationship that I have with Sam.  I chose, instead, to look on the situation with compassion.  It was hard.  It’s still hard at moments.  The situation doesn’t suck less because I’m being compassionate and understanding, but it would definitely suck more if I were caught in an anger addiction.  It would be destructive to myself and those around me.

That is not my high.

The Wheel of Fortune

I haven't written anything since my brother's wedding, which is bad of me, but ce la vie.  Or YOLO.  Whatever the kids are saying nowadays.

This has been a weird couple of weeks.  I'm really unsure how things should end up or will end up.  All I know is that changes to your life can happen in an instant and sometimes they are completely out of your control.  Sometimes those changes are the unforseen consequences of a decision that you made. Sometimes those changes are caused by a decision made by someone else.  A decision that you had no input or control over, but after being made you are left to deal with.  Sometimes those changes are great.  Sometimes they are really bad.  Sometimes they seem really bad at first but end up being awesome in the end.

In Tarot there is a card titled The Wheel of Fortune.  It can represent a lot depending on where it exists in a spread, but the main thing that I want to focus on right now is that it represents cycles of good times and bad.  The top of the wheel signifies good times and happiness. The bottom represents the bad times and struggles.  It reminds us that as long as life exists there will be times of plenty and times of sorrow, and that both are necessary.    If life was a never ending string of great things, then you would become complacent and take everything for granted.  Likewise, if life was just a never ending string of bad things, then life itself would be unable to move forward.  The wheel reminds us that "this too shall pass;"  that every winter is followed by a spring and then a summer; that nothing is eternal; that no matter what crisis you are going through, eventually, it will end and you will grow and what follows may be even better than your best times up to till then.  Sometimes the wheel moves slowly.  Sometimes it moves so quickly your head spins.  For me these last couple of weeks have represented the wheel rolling in dramatic fashion.

Last week a lot happened, but I think that the one thing of note is that I dropped acid again.  This time with Steven in his home.  This experience was not life changing nor did it bring up deep thoughts like the last one did.  It was, however, amazing fun as colors danced, camels on cigarette packs walked, shower water became rainbows, and it all culminated in an intense orgasm that lasted for 3 hours until the acid released its hold and with it the pleasure and pain of ecstasy.  My abdominals were so sore the next day.  It was the best work out that I think I've ever had.  Steven seemed to be having an amazing time, too.  He was bouncing around like a cool teenager, letting go of his usual cynicism and just existing in pure joy.  It was really nice to see, at least for a time. 

I do find Steven's cynicism enduring most days.  He balances me.  He has walls and boundaries that I can't seem to formulate for myself, which leaves me wide open to manipulation and being taken advantage of.  I balance him, too, as I think I lead him to examine walls that he has built that he doesn't need anymore.  I fear that this dynamic will lead to strife at times, but I also feel as though we're able to talk about our emotions with each other without judgement; and that we're both capable and comfortable enough to work through them with each other instead of against each other.  We're good together, and I feel as though we will help each other grow.

One of Steven's walls (or several, I'm unsure) leads him to being incredibly anxious in social situations.  In this regard I may have been unfair to him.  At this point I have had him meet pretty much everyone that I know.  My roommates.  My friends.  My family.  My poetry people.  I, however, have only met two of his friends on purpose, and a cousin accidentally.  He mentioned to me that meeting so many people in such a short period of time has left his head spinning.  I think I might have been a little over zealous.  I should have spaced it out a little more.  At the same time, though, I want him to be a fixture in my life.  He has quickly become an important piece of it, and I spend almost all of the free time I have with him.  I would like for him to be there to share in the rest of it, too.  I don't, however, want him to feel as though he follows me around like a puppy dog.  There has to be balance there as well.

On Wednesday of this week I played hookie from work to spend the day with Steven.  I felt anxious all day, but otherwise we had a great day.  We went to Blue Sky Cafe (it was my second time ever eating there, and it's awesome, I'd recommend it to anyone) and afterward went to downtown Hendersonville where we window shopped, had ice cream, went to an antique store, and generally just milled around.  Hendersonville is not my favorite place in the world and I try to avoid it as much as possible.  There's too many negative memories there from when I worked for Mediacom forever ago.  Still, I was with Steven, and we had a lot of fun there together.  Afterwards we went out to the kava bar for the open mic, which was also a lot of fun.  I've missed going and this makes the second time in as many weeks that I went.

It bears repeating that I was feeling incredibly anxious all day Wednesday.  It may have been some sort of precognition, I dunno.  I will say that Steven and I stopped by my apartment for some reason and it just felt really weird.  It smelled different.  It felt different.  I couldn't stand to stay there long so I grabbed what I needed to grab and we left pretty quickly.  My heightened state of anxiety led me to call Sam after Steven and I got back to his house at about 1 AM.  Sam was out at a concert with Tyler and Tyler's friend Colin.  I had remembered that banks would be closed on Friday for Fourth of July and we still needed to pay rent so I was making sure that Sam knew that it was imperitive that I received his rent money somehow the following day.  We had agreed that I would meet up with Sam at his job during his lunch break the following day.

I woke up late on Thursday.  For some reason the alarm on my phone didn't go off.  It's probably good that it didn't, because Steven and I left his house and had decided to just pick up my car since by the time we made it to Sam's job it would have been just after he had to go back in for work after lunch.  When we pulled into the parking lot we couldn't find my car.  I saw Sam's coworker (and our mutual friend) Adrienne walking across the parking lot and we stopped and I asked her if Sam had made it in to work that day.

Adrienne looked like a frightened squirrel for a moment.  She took a deep breath and told me these things:

 

• Sam, Tyler, and Colin were in an accident.
• No one was hurt.
• Sam is in jail.
• My car that Sam was driving was totaled.

I was pissed.  Not because it had happened, really, but because no one called me as soon as it happened.  I could have driven out there with Steven.  I could have said that I was driving.  I could have fixed things so Sam wasn't arrested.  But no one gave me that opportunity.  I had to hear about it the next day from a third party who wasn't even involved.  I called Tyler immediately and he said that he was heading to the courthouse to bail Sam out.  To make a long story short, that ended up being unnecessary, as they only held Sam long enough for him to sober up.  My anger dissipated as soon as I saw Tyler.  The dude was almost in tears and hugged me.  I called my mom and told her what was happening.  She and my dad are incredibly angry at Sam.  There was talk as soon as I called her about maybe having to press charges against him as she was going to tell the insurance company that he was driving the car without permission.  I don't think anything is going to come of that, though, and that's good.  It's all out of my hands, though.  My mom is dealing with the insurance.  Sam is dealing with the fallout.  I'm powerless in this situation.  I have no control over any real aspect of it and it's driving me insane.  My parents are angry at Sam.  Steven is angry at Sam.  Everyone is mad at him on my behalf, and I'm just... not.  I don't see how it would help the situation at all.  It happened, and now the fallout has to be dealt with.

The Wheel turned and it will continue turning.  This moment of winter will turn into spring.

Happiness

Last week I posted that I was doing this thing called 100 Days of Happiness, which basically calls for you to take a picture and post it on facebook or instagram or wherever every day for 100 days of different things that make you happy.  Well, in that regard, I have failed miserably.  And I have never been happier.

This week has been perfect.  I spent most of my nights with Steven, of course, and together we filled his home with good food and love and kindness to one another.  I still feel nervous and giddy whenever I first see him after a couple of days of not being able to.  I get tongue tied and forget words.  I try to play it cool.  I think I fail.  It's like trying to talk to your High School crush.   I get lost in his eyes.  I stare at his lips.  And then I embrace him, and nothing else matters in the world except for our bodies pressed together in that one blissful moment.

On Wednesday Steven made me meatloaf.  Meatloaf is one of my favorite foods ever, and he had never made it before.  I think he stole the recipe from Paula Deen.  Say what you will about that old racist, but she definitely knew how to cook. He also showed me a trick where you place two pieces of bread under the loaf so that they absorb all the grease instead of having the meat sit in it.  Brilliant.

Steven has also given me a key to his house.  I made one for him to my apartment yesterday.  This is a new realm of commitment for me, and I want to honor it.  Tomorrow is our one month anniversary.  I need to think of something special to do.  It's difficult right now, though, because my money situation is extremely tight after rent week.  Well, tight is the wrong word.  Nonexistent.  That's a better word to use.  I'll think of something, though.

Thursday was another awesome day, even though it was full of running errands.  I got my second CSA box from Cane Creek Organics, and it is full of yummy veggies.  I still haven't had a chance to meet my farmer yet.  I really want to, though.  These people are growing my food and I want to shake their hands and tell them how grateful I am that they do what they do.  Before starting this particular journey I never really thought about where my food came from.  Farmers really are our lifeblood, though, and they deserve to be honored and respected as maybe one of the most valuable members of our human tribe.  I know that that sounds cliche.  Trust me.  A year ago I would have read that sentence and thought that, well, yeah, of course farmers give us food.  That's their job.  They're farmers.  But they're treated with apathy most of the time.  We hold health care professionals, and fire departments, and police departments in high regard for saving lives in emergencies, but we care little for the people who keep us alive on a daily basis.  It's backwards.  Why do we only care about emergencies?  Why are those people the heroes of our society, while farmers are looked at as... well... just simple farmers?  They should be the heroes.  Or, at least, be looked at with just as much respect.

Friday... Friday is unexplainable, but I'll try to give anyone reading this a rundown.  I don't exactly have the words to convey all of the emotions I have about it.  I could describe what I did, but just knowing those things can't capture it all.

Friday I woke up in Steven's arms.  He didn't want me to go, but I had made plans earlier in the week.  My roommate Sam had gotten in touch with a friend and I bought some acid from him.

Now, before I go any further, because we're just getting to know each other, I am not a big druggie.  The most I ever do is drink, usually.  Sure, back in High School and afterward I experimented some.  But I don't even like the smell or taste of pot.  I have absolutely nothing against people who get high, and I understand the reasoning behind it.  I don't, however, think it's the best thing for me, personally.  Not because I enjoy it too much, and not because I don't enjoy it.  I just see getting high as an entertainment.  Something akin to going on a hike, or going out to see a movie.  It's brainless, it doesn't really need to mean anything, and it doesn't really say anything about your character. To give you a quick rundown, the drugs that I have tried are: pot, shrooms, cocaine (this is NOT my high and I would never do it again), poppers, and various pills.

I had done acid before, and it was fun, but somehow this trip was different.  I was changed, somehow, and I don't really understand how and I don't really understand why or what's different.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I bought two hits of acid.  Sam had been given a single hit from his friend.  I took mine pretty directly after I got home which was around 1 o'clock.  Sam waited an hour to take his, which meant that he took a hit around 2.  Then we went to pick up our friend Tyler from his job.  When we got there (maybe around 3?) I was already beginning to trip pretty hard.  Tyler got off work, and we drove up to Black Balsam on the parkway and took a hike to the top.  Tyler had bought two hits and took one and a half when we got there and gave Sam half of one of his.  The hike itself was pretty short, but rocky and steep.  I can't begin to describe the feelings I was having on the journey up.  It was like walking through a fantasy world.  Everything seemed magical and green and I felt like I was a part of it and it was a part of me.  There was a breeze and the wind seemed to flow through me, not around me.  I felt cold and hot at the same time.  As we climbed the sky seemed to get closer to us, like I could reach up and touch it. The clouds began to swirl and dance and when we made it to the top, the view was breath taking.  I was looking out over a sea of mountains, and they were stalwart and strong.

The mountains seemed so big.  And they are so old.  The Appalachians are some of the oldest mountains in the world.  Tyler told me that they have grown as high as the Himalayas and then shrunk back down three times.  These mountains have experienced so much, and here I was, standing on top of one, so young and clumsily making my way through a life that doesn't make much sense at all, and I will disappear just as quickly as I came so the best thing that I can do is find sense where I can.  I thought of Steven then.  I think that I've found sense with Steven.  He was the only thing that made sense in that moment and his face was the only thing that I wanted to see even with all of beauty and nature dancing around me.

Sam and Tyler and I stayed on top of the mountain for a while (my sense of time was warped.  It felt like forever.  It felt like five minutes.  In reality it may have been an hour.  I don't really know) and then we hiked down a different trail and ended up in a dark part of the forest filled with huge pine trees.  There was a huge stone there covered with moss that had an indentation that made it look similar to a throne.  I sat in the stone throne and was named king by Sam and Tyler.  Sam wrote a contract on a stick that stated "This is real," and we signed it.  We sat there for a while and talked and laughed and threw sticks and pine needles at each other.

I felt connected to them then in a way that I have not felt connected with anyone since I was a child.  It was pure brotherly love, and it was beautiful.  There was no undercurrent of baggage; no looking at them through a fog of sexual innuendo; no hidden motives; no subconscious thoughts.  We were just three guys playing around in the woods, and it was safe and pure and a feeling that I had forgotten about and didn't realize that I missed.  I'm so caught up in hidden dramas playing out in my mind--at all times guessing at the motives and the emotions playing out behind the skulls of everyone I encounter so that I... so that I what?  Have a leg up in conversation?  Why do I see encounters like a chess game?  I need to let that go and just be and let things happen naturally.  It's better that way.

There were other things that happened Friday, too, but I don't feel as if they're really worth mentioning more than in passing here.  We found a beautiful grotto filled with laurels and flowers and we took pictures of each other there like 90's album covers; Sam climbed half way up a cliff face; Tyler showed us what sassafras looked like and we ate it off directly off of the trees in the woods; we came home and smoked some salvia and Sam forgot who everyone and everything was for a few moments--but nothing compared to the time on top of Black Balsam and in the woods after.

Yesterday was Saturday and it was my little brother Christopher's wedding.  The day after the trip (and the trip) out in the woods, I didn't really have time to process everything before being thrown into another big event, so I was still riding high on that experience and entering into another happy occasion.  I was unable to sleep for more than an hour or so the night before, but I was running on excitement and adrenaline throughout most of the day.  In the morning before the wedding my parents and I went out to eat at Five Points Restaurant.  Five Points is a diner run by Greeks and they have the most amazing food there.  For breakfast there I always order a spinach and feta omelet with potatoes and rye toast and a side of bacon.  It's delicious, and if you're reading this and haven't been there, I recommend it highly.

After that my mom and I went shopping, and then we came back to her house and I took a shower and got ready.  I bought a new suit a week or so before.  I had put it on before to show it off, but never the complete outfit with shoes, belt, and pocket square.  When everything was on and I looked at myself in the mirror I felt beautiful--like I had never looked as attractive in my life as I looked that day.

I slept in the car on the way to the vineyard where the wedding was going to be held.  We were the first guests to arrive and I helped my dad set up the sound equipment.  Christopher looked awesome in his suit, and together I think we pretty much outshone everyone there fashion wise.  Except for his bride Nadya, of course.  When she came out to walk down the aisle, she was a picture of happiness and radiance.  I know that this is cliche, and that's how people always talk about brides, but they have been together for so long now--a lot longer than my longest relationship--and they seem to be made for each other.

The preacher talked about how she should be a submissive wife.  How that was her duty to submit to her husband, and respect his decisions even if she didn't agree with them, and how it was simply the husband's duty to love her like he loved his own body.  I wanted to punch a man of God.  This speech was not okay in my eyes.  A couple should love each other equally.  Make decisions based on compromise and mutual respect.  Listen to one another.  No one should lead and no one should follow, but instead march lockstep and carry one another when necessary.  A relationship is based on equality, not submissiveness.  If this is what bigoted straight couples think marriage is that the gays are trying to encroach upon, let them have it.  We'll do our better thing over here and just call it the same thing.

When it was time for the vows to be read to each other, my little brother choked up.  They held on to one another's hands like they were about to be blown away by a gale.  My brother's eyes were wide with emotion.  I have no idea what he was feeling right then.  The mess of emotions that must have been swirling all through his body.  I don't have a frame of reference for that because I have never been through it.  I do know, though, that it must have been powerful, because the entire crowd could feel a piece of it.  Nadya then said her vows in the same manner.  I was sitting in a place where I couldn't see her face, but I could hear the wideness of her eyes in her voice.  It was gut-wrenching and pure.  And then it was party time.

The wedding was held at a vineyard, and the free wine flowed like water.  I drank, but I think I might have still been tripping a little from the day before, because I didn't feel drunk but I was talking like I had been talking the day before.  I held nothing that I wanted to say to anyone back, and all my words were full of love and laughter.  I was even nice to Jamie, the brother that I despise.  Every slight.  Every argument.  Every evil thing that he has done was forgotten for a day, and he and Mikey, and Michele, and I were just siblings.  Joking and laughing and poking fun at each other.  It was nice to not deal with family drama and just share in joy.

The wedding was beautiful.  The venue was beautiful.  The food there was delicious.  The conversations were friendly and fun and hilarious.  It was another perfect day to cap off a perfect week.

I don't know where to go from here.  I hope that things continue to look up and bright.  I feel so blessed by this week.  So beautifully blessed and alive.  I haven't needed to look for things to make me happy to take snapshots of.  All I've needed to do is live.

I have a heart that flings...

Hello.

I created this blog over a year ago, and I never posted.  I'm still not sure what I should post here now, but I do feel as though I need a project to keep my mind off things during the weekends while I'm working.  So that is what I'm going to do.  I think.  Just write.  Word vomit onto the page until things become a clear story.  I may post pictures here.  Especially since tomorrow I'm starting a project called 100 happy days, which calls on you to take a picture of something that made you happy every day for 100 days in a row.  I'm extremely excited about it.

I guess I should introduce myself.  My name is Kevin.  Sometimes it's spelled Kevyn for reasons that I think I've grown past.  Some people call me Poodle.  My mom calls me Poopie.  My boyfriend, Steven, can call me anything that he wants and it would sound like butter tastes.  Smooth, creamy, and delicious.

My boyfriend.

That's so weird to think about sometimes.  Especially now, since the relationship still has the shine of newness.  It's a perfect silver sphere at the moment, left undented by whatever the world will inevitably decide to throw at it.  I want to protect it.  I want to wrap myself around it and allow the world's pebbles to bounce off my spine as opposed to tarnishing this beautiful thing that I have been looking for for so long.  So very long.  So long that I fooled myself into thinking that I had found it more than once.

Once, I held a piece of aluminum foil.  It was the right color, and we were able to ball it into almost the right shape, but Kyle and I clung to it in desperation.  It was emotionless.  We went through the motions of love without the feeling.

Once, I held a sphere of jade.  It was not the right color.  We tried, I think, to change our own colors like chameleons to match.  Her name was Miranda, and there was love there, but not the right kind.  We were not chameleons.

Once, I held a sphere of ice.  It melted quickly under the heat of my hands.  His name was Devin.  I was too warm for him and the tighter I held him the more he flowed away.

Many, many times I held bullets.  Pellets from a BB gun.  Most were nameless.  Some had names like Mitch, Drew, Dwight, and Adam. They had the right color and the right shape; but they moved through me quickly, stung briefly, and then they were gone.

Many other times I held fire under my fingernails.  They burned red and blue and orange and gold.  Their names were Jared, Matt, Andy, Tipton, and Sam. The heat was intense and some left scars on my arms.  You can't hold fire without destroying yourself.

I have a heart that flings fire from fingernails.

But now--now I hold Steven.  My love for him is real, and pure, and strong; and his is the same for me.  I see my reflection in his surface, and he sees his in mine.  He is who I have been waiting for--been searching for--and I never want to let him go.  I hold my breath when he's near me.  I whisper my secrets in his ear.  I eat raspberries and chocolate from his lips.  He is the most beautiful being that I have ever encountered, and someday, if all goes to plan, his will be the ring that I wear around my finger.

This is the beginning of true happiness, and even in our dark moments we will light our houses and guide each other to shore.