...wiped out.

I have been up since 230am with Baby. At first I thought her cuddling was because she was cold - pushing in to me as close as she could get - pressing, cuddling against me...then the puking started....this went on til 5am...carpets trashed - you can't get a dog to hold it's head over the toilet. She nailed the bedroom 3 times, the hallway twice and once outside. The rest of the time it was just this horrendous dry-heaving...nothing left to come up. I drove over to my vet at 7am and they can't get me in so I have to come in at 9am and just sit and wait. My flight leaves at 145pm, I don't know if I should cancel or what - I'm wrecked. The spontaneous-out-of-town trip was supposed to break me out of all the work stress I've been under since the end of last quarter...course San Diego on no sleep is gonna be a treat. My Baby is sleeping now - tired from a long night of redecorating the house in Beige (and well some other colors). I was gonna go into work for a while before my flight but I just can't until I know what made her so sick. It may sound strange to a non-dog person - but it was terrifying - I started to cry - I didn't know what to do to help her, she just laid there shaking - looking miserable.

oh well...wish me well at the vet.

taking off tomorrow for San Diego for a night away. Hang with the San Diego boys for "Friday Night Friends Night", boyfriend says his ok with it, but asked me if he should be worried - but he must be because he left the house and turned down sex. Leaving me a little grumpy - I very much dislike not being trusted. Anyway I'm only going for the night - breakfast with my best friend Victoria in the morning and then an afternoon flight back to PHX in time to take him to closing night of 'Angels in America II" at the Herberger. Fealing a little "under" if not "un" - appreciated.

The Top Eleven Things That I Adore About the People Who Read My Site

1. You immediately appreciate the fact that "11" items are far superior to the sissy "10" items you may find on another site.
   
2. You secretly refer to me as a "bi-polar, manic depressive, tortured love puppy" when huddled together in secret ceremonies celebrating the genius of Traci Lords.
   
3. If I smile - you smile with me, if I laugh - you laugh with me, if I cry - you cry with me...now why the hell can't I get you to fall in step with the "When I strip naked - you strip naked" ???
   
4. Emails, lots of loving, touching, sharing, adoring, kind emails.
   
5. Obscene email, dirty, naughty, perverted, twisted emails (this is speaking directly to you and you and you )
   
6. Your the only one I can honestly tell that I watched more of Tuesday nights 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' (a show only meant for gay men and teenage girls) then Game 3 of the World Series (also called "California's Civil War")
   
7. You don't expect half-naked pics of me on my site - but you seem to "appreciate" half naked pics of me on my site.
   
8. Your more fun than Torrets in an open air mall.
   
9. 3 words: Kathi Lee Gifford (hey it doesn't need to make sense - I'm praising YOU - enjoy it silly)
   
10. I don't have to wear clothes to chat with you.
    
11. ...and finally 3 more words: NO RESTRAINING ORDERS

You can now return to your regularly scheduled viewing.

Ok - I'm becoming a "big" boy, which is all good - but kinda embarrassing how some of my dress shirts fit me. The worst part is how chubby my cheeks get when I put on weight/muscle. I look like a Gerber baby on roids. Just so as not to confuse people into thinking I walk around suffering from inner turmoil on a daily basis, I am finally ready to unleash my Indian Summer Inspiration Musical Theme for Holden Caulfields Lover - "On a High" by Mr. Duncan "Admit You Sleep With Me and Talk Me for a Cup of Coffee in the Morning if You Had a Chance" Sheik :

I'm on a high, I'm on a high
there's nothing more to it
we are the sea and sky
and the blue that runs through it, yeah.

and then there are some who say there are so many things I need
so I run or I fight and I crawl or I scream and I bleed
I bleed, I bleed

well it's a lie, it's a lie - don't you believe it
if you're fine then you're fine - it's all how you see it
oh, there never will be no conspiracy of happiness

I'm on a high, I'm on a high
and there's nothing more to it
I have the sun, it's a star
why should I refuse it

and there are so many reasons - I could give you - why I should be down
there's not enough money or time and my love you're not around
around, around

well it's a lie, it's a lie - don't you believe it
if you're fine then you're fine - it's all how you see it
oh, there never will be no conspiracy of happiness

you're alive, you're alive - how else could you hear me?
you are fine, you are fine - there's nothing worth fearing
oh, there never will be no conspiracy of happiness

I'm on a high, on a high
we are the sea and the sky
I'm on a high, on a high
I'm on a high...

It's a lie, it's a lie - don't you believe it
Cause I've tried and I've tried, and can't really see it
Yeah I'm trapped inside my conspiracy of hapiness
said I was yours, you were mine but I didn't really mean it
and I lied and I lied
and I wish you hadn't seen it
'cause I'm trapped inside my conspiracy of happiness

....how do you wear your "chips" - one on each shoulder for glamour and balance ?

As I learn to let go and grow up - and force myself to be rid as of as much dysfunction as seems possible in the wee early hours of my thirties - I often find I have to write things that seem even hard for me to read. Is a thought more pure for being cheerful, or angelic for being well spoken, or right for being "good" ? I'm not sure. Sometimes the most geniune things we utter, seem the cruelest to those around us. So the following will be hard for some to read, but catharitic for me to write. If you've never had these thoughts I envy you, if you have had them and never spoke them - speak along with me and maybe we can both get them off our chests and move on:

To My Mother and Father,

A Letter to Exhume my Hatred of You.

When did you decide that you were ready for the task of children ? Was it over a drink - maybe several, or after a winning home run that made you feel virile. Did you ever imagine the consequences of having a child you didn't want to have - and how often and how frequently this feeling would emenate from your being. My early years were confused by a seperation I was aware of, a divorce I was never told of and a reconcilliation that was lorded over me for any insignificant thing I did wrong. What is it to stay together for the sake of the kids - when your constant screaming, hitting and fighting is really what's pulling them apart? When did you learn to squash their hopes and how did you learn to call them a "loser" ?

I hated you for stealing the chance from me to be a happy child.
I hated the drinking, the abuse, the constant fear you instilled in me at how quickly things could go from "bad" to worse.
I hated being "invisible" and you know I was.
I hated you for "forgetting" my birthdays, or moving them to a different day.
I hated the NO's, to everything - just so you wouldn't have to be inconvienced - "No honey , you can't join the gym - you'll lose interest" (Perhaps you haven't noticed my arms but they can crush NO's without neven trying)
I hated "Excellence in Art", "Excellence in English", "Excellence in Writing", Excellence in almost every god damn thing for being pale and weak comparisons to the "Excellence in Sports" that were the only measure of a man in our family.
I hated the shame you felt when I wanted to be proud of who I was. " Please dear - wait til your grandparent are dead before you have to be open about this life-style"
I hated the embarrassment you felt when I tried to take my life at 14, unable to deal with my homosexuality, I told you I tried to commit suicide because of my fear of a nuclear holcaust - you swallowed that like a delicious pill, knowing it was something else.
I hated knowing you couldn't protect me - because you couldn't even care for yoursleves.
I hated you for telling me I would never get through college because I didn't choose your route (have you noticed lately that in your grandest hour you made half of what I make now)
I hated the response you gave me when my first close friend died of AIDS in college - "Well at least you did well on all your exams - you looked so upset we thought you had been kicked out."
I hated you when you told me if I ever got AIDS to not tell you - you wouldn't want to know.
I hated the lies you made me swallow, the dreams you made me crush to be part of this family, to do my part and be the prodigal son.
I hated when you began to brag about all my accomplishments, the ones you never thought I would make.
I've learned so many countless, wasteful things about you - that I have built walls you could nver imagine, hidden behind hills you could never see and it's not doing me any good anymore to do this.

I hate "hating".
I hate "wasting" my heart, my soul, my energy on this hate.

Ok - I "should be" a little embarrassed, but I'm obsessed with my new toy. The Walkman NW-MS11...simple, petite (dimensions 17/16 x 31/4 x 9/16), slips in my gym pants with ease, and gives me hours upon hours of the music I want to hear - I was looking for a RIO, but instead found my diamond in the rough. I'm gonna buy enough memory sticks (128MB each) to have one for every silly mood. I normally don't get all "gadget-geeky" - but I couldn't wait to hit the gym tonight.