On Not Saying “Good-bye”

I got the word today that one of my co-workers is moving on to greener pastures.  Sad news for me, since over the past four years or so, she and I have become good work buddies.  We’ve been through fires that have galvanized our friendship.  She has a cool clear head, which balances nicely with my reactive quick temper.  We’ve learned to work together quite well.

She was a part of the panel interview that I passed through to secure my current job.  She is an Indian-American, and most everyone mispronounces her name.  I did myself initially.  In my thank-you note following my initial interview, I even misspelled her name.

But once I was on board in my new position, I listened carefully to her introduce herself to others and got the sound down.  One time, she told someone else in my presence, “You know … the Queer is the only one who pronounces my name correctly.”  Well, I just know that names are important.  Especially if you have a unique name.

But as usual, I digress.

In the jobs that I’ve held in my adult life (which I consider my time in Houston ), I have held on to at least one person from each of my five employers.  From my first job that I held about 16 years ago, a friend stopped by my house and had coffee a couple of months ago.  I hadn’t seen him in five or six years, but it was just like we had picked up a conversation from years back.

I even got my best friend from a job.  I was employed with her at the same company for only eight months, but I grabbed her and didn’t let go.

Sometimes the bonds are loose.  Sometimes the bonds are fast.

I’m not sure what will happen with my friend who gave her notice today.  However, I know that she gave her notice to the company, not on our friendship.

When I find someone who is special, I’m good with “hello,” and I’m bad with “good-bye.”

"It's Been a While..."

Hello All.  I took an extended break after a strong start at blogging.  When I began back in the spring, I posted almost daily.  But something stepped in, and I had to take it easy.  It was a mandatory interruption.  My insanity kicked in.

Now, I’ll try not to make light of my situation, but levity is a part of my base personality.  So I am quite sure that I will not properly illustrate the gravity of the affliction.  Even using the word “affliction” is starting off this essay on the wrong foot.

About 14 years ago, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.

Many people when they read this may automatically think “Oh…he’s crazy.”

I’ll not argue that.

Other people who read this may think “Oh…he just needs an excuse for bad behavior.”

I do over-apologize for myself when I have finally realized how my mania is draining the energy from my family, friends and co-workers.  To some, Bipolar Disorder is sometimes lumped into the same group of suffering as TMJ (temporomandibular joint) Disorder and CTS (Carpal Tunnel Syndrome).  Kinda the fashion disease of the moment.

And here I sit, writing off my absence from blogging on my hypomania.  Well, actually I’m not.  My life got extremely busy and almost unmanageable in the past couple of months.

And when that happens, people may think, “He must be off his medication.”  Well, I can’t lie and say that has never happened.  I do have a big ego and have gone off my meds when I thought I had the disorder “under control.”  But it ultimately always wins. 

This time I did not go off my medication.  My hypo-mania reared its ugly head when I

·        Had a bad cold and coughed all night (unable to get good rest)

·        Took cold medicine that worked against my “normal” medication

·        Had a number of unusual stressors in my life

This time, fortunately I was not hospitalized.  That has only happened to me once.  And I hope, never again.  That one time left a bad taste in my mouth; I was in the Harris County Psychiatric Ward for three weeks.  Scary, but not as bad as one would imagine.  (I guess I need to watch “One Flew over the Koo-Koo’s Nest” sometime to get a better perspective).

I won’t go into much detail now of that time, or I run the risk of getting wordy and dull.  You can expect a full post on the history of my initial diagnosis some time in the future.  It’s much more interesting than my daily struggle with the disorder.  And yes, it’s a struggle:  just like weight issues for the bad-body-image group, or sugar for the diabetic group, or cholesterol for the troubled cardio-vascular group.

I get to take medicine that dulls my sex drive (and I enjoy sex), watch my alcohol intake (and I love beer), and I have to make sure that I am getting at least seven hours of sleep each night (and I’m a night-owl).

But enough of that.  I’m just popping in to try and re-establish my writing groove.  I’ll try to get back to my daily observations with this post.  I enjoy writing them. 

So in terms of my insanity, I can’t really change it.  I’ll just quote Popeye.  “I yam what I yam.”

You've Got a Lot of Explaining to Do, Queer

“Explain yourself.”  You may have heard these words is an accusatory tone.  You may have heard them shouted.  You may have heard them from someone you hurt.

Me?  I just heard them matter-of-factly from myself.  So here we go … and I’ll try to keep it brief.  If you do not need an explanation from me, you know that we are already in trouble.  If you have read any of my essays, you know as well.  If this essay is an introduction to me … RUN!

Just kidding … but I will try to keep this succinct.  (I haven’t talked about my lengthy absence from writing… I’ll explain that later in another post). 

• I am sentimental (I’m crazy in love with the perfect man).
• I am crazy (I’ve got the papers to prove it … so, there!).
• I am strong (I’ve been through the death of:  twin sons [when I was 20] and mom [when 21].  It I could live through those, I can handle anything).
• I am smart (My dad – the smartest man I know – told me at my age of 18, “’Queer,’ you are smarter … more intelligent… than I’ll ever be.” … WOW).
• I’m fun (I sure have a lot of friends … I guess that I must entertain).
• I’m wise (really?...)

Well, I don’t know this yet … but I hope to find out.  Now for anybody else but for me.  I would hope that I would be wise.  The wisdom for living my life as openly as I can.  The wisdom taken from years that have passed.  The wisdom of raising an incredible son to adulthood.  The wisdom for honestly communicating in the now and knowing that the past is what got me to this point in time.  I would hope that I could share some wisdom.

So, I’m sentimental, crazy, strong, smart, and fun.  If you ask others in my life what I’m about, you might get helpful, manic, grumpy, sweet or furious.  It’s all possible

A strangely narcissistic essay, but I was once told that if you could recognize it, it was only “narcissistic- tendancies.”  Whew…

If this is an introduction, “Howdy!”  If this is not an introduction, it’s just an explanation, “You're welcome.”

So I’ll stop … Brief?  I don’t know.  You decide.

M’aiq Is From Mars; Ophelia is From Venus

I have never read the book, but about fifteen years ago Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus was published.   I do know that the book spoke on how we Earthlings are expected to feel and act according to our gender.  The ideas presented in the book created a bit of a craze, the theories that illustrated some of the differences between how men and women operate:  men are about abilities and working alone, while women are about feelings and co-operating.  People latched a hold to the ideas and ran with them.

 

The Man and I have four pets (pretty crazy, I know).  Even crazier … I had all four pets before he entered my life.  And when the invitation was extended,he decided to move in with me, regardless, … really.  Even with all my ‘indoor’ animals.  Amazing.

All six of us live pretty well together, even though we all have distinct personalities.  Our dog Luke is the wildest of the bunch.  The Man says that he has Attention-Deficit Disorder.  Luke is excitable, energetic and focus-less.  Each morning when The Man wakes at some ungodly hour (I think it’s 5 AM or even 4 AM – if it’s a “gym” day), Luke does a “Tasmanian Devil” spin all the way to the back door in front of the man.

Our other dog Casper is the quietest of all the animals in the house.  Casper, in principle, does not belong to the Man and me.  Casper is Luke’s dog.  I got Casper as a companion for Luke, hoping that he would settle Luke down.  That did not happen.  Our Casper is a sweet, mild-mannered, quiet and slim dog, who appears to move on tip-toes.

Our cats, M’aiq (pronounced “Mike,” or as I say it, “Mi-iiike”) and Ophelia (one lone household female) came from the same litter.  M’aiq is a large long-haired all-white male; one of the most beautiful cats that I have ever seen.  Ophelia is a smaller short-haired gray and white tabby, beautiful in her own right.

Which brings us back to “M’aiq from Mars; Ophelia from Venus.”  M’aiq likes his alone time.  He actually broke out of the house (to our horror) a couple of years ago.  We imagined the worst, but he soon materialized, and we coaxed him back into the house.  M’aiq is all about himself.  He’ll come to us for attention and insist on it more often than Ophelia.

Ophelia, when feeling a bit neglected, will meow loudly and simply jump in one of our laps, settling in for some petting.  Or she’ll seek out M’aiq where he is lounging and cuddle up with him.  It never happens the other way with M’aiq seeking out Ophelia.  And my biggest clue about the Mars/Venus theory … Ophelia helps groom M’aiq. 

She spends a lot of her own time licking and cleaning his fur. 

Sweet. 

M’aiq never returns the favor. 

Typical male.

But I’ll stop here.  I mentioned all of our pets earlier (not just the cats) for a reason.  Our male pets, the two dogs and M’aiq, are somewhat independent (well, as independent as pets can be).   While Ophelia is a bit more dependent, demanding more attention and on most nights, sleeping with The Man and me in the bed.

Luke and Casper clean one another.  When the lazy Queer has put off giving them their regular bath, Luke and Casper lie on the floor and lick one another.  So which one of the dogs is from Mars, and which one is from Venus.  I would naturally think that Luke is from Mars and Casper is from Venus.  But no… Luke is the co-operative one.  Casper is much more about getting the job done (he scares away all of the backyard squirrels; Luke just wants to play with them – I can tell).

One of our close friends always talks about the dual nature of everyone and about how each of us has both male and female energy.  So I think I’ll just buy that.  I mean, seriously … we are living on Earth.  Whether you come from Mars or Venus, we are all immigrants here.

Defending the FB

Much has been said recently about the privacy concerns for Facebook users.  Worries over identity theft, scams, and invasion of privacy.  Horror stories of stalkers, hateful creeps and just people that you really didn't want to talk with again.  I mean, with all the technology today, it's difficult to keep a single move concealed.

Even as recently as last night, in my "Live Feed" where all the updates from my friends are published, I surprisingly saw on one of my friend's updates "John Doe likes The Man with The Biggest Dick in the World."  Well, that's very nice of you to share, John, I thought.  But my curiosity got the best of me, So I "clicked" on it, and was brought to, not a typical Facebook group page like I expected, but to an entirely different separate webpage outside of Facebook.  On this page was a picture of a man sitting on a chair against a bright red background.  He was dressed in tight leather, which was clinging so closely to reveal his claim to fame.  His face was obscured.  You could "click" on the picture, but the first thing I thought was "virus."
A little later in the evening, I saw one of the co-workers of The Man come up with the same "like" in her live feed.  Might be a bit more embarrassing for a young lady than an old Queer like me.  Had this happened to me instead of my friend or The Man's co-worker, I would have probably laughed myself stupid.  (It still was kinda funny when it happened to my friend).

Now, this is a very bad beginning for my essay.  Because I'm going to tell you how Facebook has enriched my life.  Simple things.  I can see that my sister had a great day out at the lake with her family, when she posts new pictures on Facebook.  And she's 250 miles away.  I can "Like" an everyday observation from a friend who is on assignment at a university in north Africa.  And he can, in turn, comment on my relishing watermelon on these days when the temperature is rising.  I can be knocked for a loop at the discovery of an old friend that I haven't seen in person or even talked with in 20 years, who may have been removed from my life by distance, conflicting priorities, divorce ... well, just life.  And wonderful memories come back.

Sometimes, it's fun when you have a twisted sense of humor.  And especially with a confidant that shares this. The brunette and I are constantly "de-friending" one another.  That's simply done by either of us removing the other from their friends list.  When the other discovers it, we send a new friend request.  So it shows up in any of our friends' "Live Feed"s as "The Queer and The Brunette are now friends."  I'm sure some of the friends we have in common think "what the hell?" seeing this message pop up every couple of weeks.

I've even used Facebook to settle an old hurt.   One of my high school classmates called me "Queer" at a party back when we were teens.  She was right.  But nobody was supposed to know!  She saw me for what I was.  It got pretty ugly with my friends defending me.  We left.
I kept that inside for years.  Anytime this woman's name was mentioned, I would snarl.  And then one day last year, my sister said, "You know that picture of you and me that I posted yesterday on Facebook?  Jane Doe
said he thought that you look great."
"Jane Doe!"  I was shocked.  "Are you friends with her?  Don't you remember that party..."
"T.Q." she sighed.  "That was thirty years ago.  Don't you think she's forgotten that...?  Maybe you should, too."
I didn't say anything.  But I was thinking alot.
I kept my eyes open.  And then one day, Jane Doe commented on a post from one of our childhood friends.  I commented something along the lines of "I agree with Jane!"
Jane responded something like "Thanks, T.Q., I'm right about 50% of the time."
I sent her a friend request.  She accepted.
We now comment regularly on each other's lives, trivialities, and achievements.  I provide words of support when her husband is about to head out on the road for work.  She comments on the nice flowers I get from the perfect man I have.

Privacy?  I've got nothing to hide.  Facebook?  This stuff is worth it's weight in gold.

(Lock photo by Walknboston;  Pot of Gold photo by Jonas B)

Ramblings

Not really having much to say, I thought I’d sit down and write anyway.

When I first started this blog, The Man said “This is good.  You’ll write everyday and get better!”  Everyday?  Has he been awake for the past four years?  I don’t do anything every day, but eat, smoke and sleep (well, sometimes not even sleep).

Oh, and I’m certain that I listen to music each day.  I am right now.  While I type this, I have my music library playing through the computer’s music system.  I have my entire library of CDs on my hard drive.  Right now, a song that I’m not even sure that I have ever heard is playing.  I am fairly certain that it is Matthew Sweet.  I own most of his work, and I’m almost sure that this is his voice.  Probably from Altered Beast.  I never listen to it.  Yep, I’m good.  “Knowing People” from Altered Beast.  I like it.  This is followed-up by Kelly Willis’ “Teddy Boys” from Translated From Love.  Good stuff!

I’m drinking TheraFlu right now.  Yuck.  I took a vacation day today to get a full four-day weekend (because of the Memorial holiday).  And then spent the day in bed.  And I got to thinking about Karma.  And why so many people believe in this.  We’ll get back to that.

My female cat is driving me crazy.  Whenever I sit at my desk (and that’s quite a lot), she sits at my feet and meows loudly.  I’ll pet her and pet her, but it’s never enough.  I never could satisfy a woman.  I’m still petting and she’s still meowing, but now Massenet’s La Vierge (Act 4) is playing.  Four and ½ minutes of sheer beauty, sweet and lyrical.

Karma.  When I originally planned to take the day off, I intended to completely conceal it from The Man.  I wanted a day completely to myself.  So I planned to tell him on Thursday evening.  I was afraid that he would take the day too if he knew of my plan early enough.  I did end up telling him on Tuesday night, I believe.  He didn’t mention taking a vacation day himself.  I was relieved.  But when Thursday came, I was starting to feel under the weather.  And come today, I was in the bed with body aches, fever and chills.  And I immediately thought sarcastically at myself, “Serves you right, Queer.  You were so concerned in getting your day off to yourself.  Enjoy!”  And then I thought about Karma, and why so many people believe in it?  I’m convinced the reason that I believe in “what comes around, goes around” or “good things happen to good people” or “everything happens for a reason,” is based on my Christian upbringing. 

“The Art Teacher” by Rufus Wainwright is on now.  I love Rufus.  The Man is not a big fan.  But the player is on suffle, and here comes Squeeze with “Another Nail in My Heart” from Argy Bargy.  And who doesn’t like Squeeze?

And back to Karma.  Almost everyone believes in some sort of Karma.  Regardless of race, creed, sex or religious background.  As I’ve said on more than one occasion that he is a “Chaotist.”  He believes in Chaos Theory.  That nothing happens for a reason.  He recently ordered a book on-line called “The Symmetry of Chaos.”  He was excited when he received it in the mail.  Then he came to show me with all the shine gone from his face.  The text of the book looked like stereo instructions.  It was a textbook!  He was so disappointed.  “I’m not reading this!”

All good.  “Me and My Girl” by David Baerwald just came on the player.  And the thunder starts like crazy outside.  The Man comes in to tell me that a bad storm is coming, hail and damaging winds expected.  And David Baerwald from Here Comes the New Folk Underground sings.

Me and my girl

Are going to do

Just fine in this world

I guess that’s what I’m writing about tonight.

On Being Blue

I’m blue.  One of my good friends says, at least once a week, “Queer, you are SO blue!”  I reckon she’s right.

She and I work together.  We were brought into the company almost three years ago now, along with about 30 other men and women.  The department was in a sort of totally screwed-up shape, had become known as a people-mill (sucking in and spitting out employees at rapid speeds), and had finally got the approval for a mass-hire to help stop the bleeding.  

So my friend and I were part of a large grueling training regimen.  This started with a full week of nothing but specifications training that made me want to cut myself by class end on Wednesday.  The next two weeks were mainly training on our sister departments in the company and customer-service skills.  

But the three-week training nightmare was brought to a close with a little team building activity.  The final class was a type of personality study that divided people into three different color categories:   Red, Green, and Blue.  The Red folks were the leaders, who took charge, didn’t mind hurting feelings and, above all, got things done.  The Green segment was the worker bees, those dedicated to the details, wanting to find solutions and solve problems.  The Blue group were composed of those who were all about feelings, making sure people around them were “all right,” and maintaining a social workplace.

Yes, my friend was exactly right.  The Queer is Blue.  Archetypically Blue.  No surprise to me.  I had taken similar personality tests.  One at a former employer was all about colors as well.  I was Yellow for that test, not Blue.  But for that test, the “yellows” were the “people-people.”  (and man … do I hate to hear someone refer to himself as a “people-person.” Ugh.)

I had taken the Myers-Briggs test.  ENFP.  Yep, classic.  From the Wikipedia description of ENFPs:

ENFPs are initiators of change, keenly perceptive of possibilities. They energize and stimulate others through their contagious enthusiasm. They prefer the start-up phase of a project or relationship, and are tireless in the pursuit of new-found interests. ENFPs are able to anticipate the needs of others and to offer them needed help and appreciation. They bring zest, joy, liveliness, and fun to all aspects of their lives. They are at their best in situations that are fluid and changing, and that allow them to express their creativity and use their charisma. They tend to idealize people, and can be disappointed when reality fails to fulfill their expectations. They are easily frustrated if a project requires a great deal of follow-up or attention to detail.

And that is why I surprise many people.  In my writing, I may come across more laid back that I actually appear in person.  I’ve stunned a couple of guys, who I communicated with on-line over a long period of time before meeting.  When the face-to-face happened, I often got quite puzzled looks.  I’m a bit more energetic and animated in the flesh.

But I always express.  Expressions of amusement at some mishap that I may have been in the middle of, usually manifested in laughter and kidding those who are in the boat with me.  Expressions of outrage when the odds are insurmountable, marked by my outbursts on the department floor and my stating to my co-workers that my resignation letter is already typed on my hard-drive.  Expressions of concern when one of my team is in over her head.

This concern showed itself tonight.  There are five women who I check on each night before I leave the floor.  Tonight one of the women was in the cubicle of one of the others.  When I stuck my head in and asked like always “Let’s go.” (I guess that’s not a question), she sighed and said that she had too much work.  

The three of us (along with another of my daily “check-ees”) tackled the outstanding issues in minutes, dissecting the problems, tearing them apart and solving them deftly.  We "greened" it up.

As we four exited the building on the way to the parking garage, one of the women (our de-facto "red" leader) suggested that I send a text message to my final “check-ee” (who is visiting family in the Middle East) and let her know not to bring her lunch tomorrow.  We were planning to eat at the nearby Asian restaurant.  So I did, and we laughed.

Although it is eight hours later where she is, my friend texted back:

Enjoy :-)  I’ll won’t bring my lunch tomorrow :-)

We’ll see her in two weeks.

Hell, I’ll be as Blue as you want me to be.