Notes from the Red Bird House

I remember now why I don't drink. With my cell phone nearby. It's not just the crushing hangovers. I have this... tendency... to say things I feel the immediate need to apologize for. Why in the Hell would I ever think that was even moderately appropriate? Yeah, I wouldn't. Sober. Admittedly, I'm better than most drunks if all I do is send a few text messages. Still, it bothers me. I'm better than this. Sober. Yes, sober. Which I am most of the time. God, I'm her. That girl, the one who can't handle her alcohol. Sure, I stopped short of PI and/or a Drunk & Disorderly arrest, but still... I can't handle it AND a social life. 'I'm sure your body feels damn good...'. Some may say she was begging for that response. I'm not a believer. It was innocent conversation that my drunk ass took down a road she never expected. How do I know (which another friend asked)? Hmm... No response speaks volumes, don't you think? Of course, she could be

'Hold on Hold on to yourself For this is gonna hurt like hell...' Part of me wishes that it hurt like Hell. I want that. I want that Love. Love with a capital L. I want someone I want with everything I have, every last bit of faith and hope and that last sliver of destiny, too. I want to love so hard that I know I may eventually be destroyed. I want that courage. I want to face that fear and hold on. I want her. The One. Not one of The Ones. Just her. Whoever she may be. Because I really don't know. I don't even have an idea. An inkling? Maybe. I'd be more likely to say it's nothing more than a wish. An item on my Bucket List maybe. 'What is it in me that refuses to believe This isn’t easier than the real thing...' It wasn't anything close to the real thing. I pretended, I did. I'm good at that. Pretending. I said that I was practicing. For when the real one came along. As if she will ever come. I have to leave this one behind. It's

I'm pretty sure that many people breathed a sigh of relief a few weeks ago when I finally came out as a Christian. I'm sure they thought it meant the end of my anti-Christian diatribes, debates, and soap box races. After all, I'm a Christian now. That should mean that I chant the company line, shouldn't it? I'll thump the Bible with effervescence and freak Jesus like a hip-hop sagger on a hottie in Apple Bottoms. You're right. It should mean all that and more. Yet..... Sadly for many, it doesn't. If anything, being a Christian makes me more critical than ever before. Hell, I actually LIKE Jesus now and have a vested interest in the (mis)interpretation of his word. Let's get it straight - Christianity is most certainly not off the hook. Let's begin with Christmas, shall we? Tis the season for bashing Christianity. I can't see myself stopping my long standing tradition, especially now. Everyone loves Christmas, right? It's that time of year w

Tonight I am focusing on Grace. Because there just has to be some. There always has been before, even when it was far worse than this, so I think I'm pretty safe. This time sucks. Before Grace, I mean. Between the end and the next beginning, when Grace becomes pretty much self-evident. Until then, I'm going to think about the beauty of that eventual Grace and how good this sweet tea vodka tastes. I am alive and breathing, if a bit disappointed. I still have me. And ultimately that may be Grace enough.

I guess it's the idea of it. Some day she could want to date me. Maybe. She might. You never know. She dates girls and I date girls. This alone gives me hope. I'm cool with hope. I mean it's no guarantee. No way. It's a long shot if ever there was a long shot, but there is always hope. Always. Even if no one else believes it could ever happen. The only person that needs to believe is me. Well, and eventually her, I imagine. Because if she never believes, like I believe, then there is no reason for me to hope. So, I must believe in her and in me. And in hope, too. Because really without hope, life would be boring and, well, hopeless. And what good is that? So, tonight in my sleeplessness, I will think about the idea of it, she and me I mean, and hope that some day there is enough hope in both of us.

"It's not a 'forever' thing and I most definitely refuse to use the word 'never'." ~ Stacee Ann Harris, in 'Sane Sobriety' I wanted to quote that back to everyone lest they think that I forgot what I wrote just a few days ago. Yes, I said I was choosing sane sobriety over insane drunkenness and I still stand by that. Of course that was before a pretty girl asked me to have drinks (technically she asked me to have lunch, but since it was time for happy hour and I'd already had lunch, I had a margarita...or two. More on that in a minute). As I stated before (and re-stated above), I never say never. I may be sober, but I'm not stupid. A pretty girl is ALWAYS a reason to have a drink, even when taking the Anti-Everything pills (AEPs). They require moderation, not suplication. So, I had a couple margaritas today. Trust me, that's all I needed. A couple was more than plenty. It's amazing how quickly your tolerance for alcohol goes awa

A few days ago my mother inquired, via email, if I would be celebrating Christmas this year. She figured that since I'm now a Christian and Christmas is therefore now 'my' holiday that I might change my stance and actually celebrate. My answer? 'I'm a Christian, Mom. That doesn't mean that I suddenly became a Capitalist'. She thought it was funny and asked again for my Christmas list. My mom doesn't care whether I celebrate or not. She celebrates and, for her, it's as much in the giving as in the receiving. I let her give; she knows I won't give back. It seems to work for us, as unfair it may seem from the outside looking in. You can call me stingy all you want, but I'm at least honest. I'm a conscientious objector. If I could avoid the holiday in its entirety, I would. You see my long standing disenchantment with Christmas has more to do with blatant Capitalism than it ever did Christianity. I've always been cool with the Christian

I've pretty much given up drinking. It's not a 'forever' thing and I most definitely refuse to use the word 'never'. I still drink on occasion which is to say not very often. Being broke helps, but so do the Anti-Everything pills. You see, alcohol and the AEP's don't mix well. No, this didn't come as a surprise to me (it's right in the dosage instructions), but it sure did arrive as a pain in the ass. When I did drink, I found that I got drunk quicker and ended up not feeling well after only a couple drinks. And the accentuated hangovers? Yeah, they were no picnic either. After a few outings with similar results I decided I had a choice to make - Sane sobriety or insane drunkenness. For some, the decision may have been a difficult one. For me, it was easy. I hate hangovers and the overall crappy feeling that overcame me after my second drink proved pretty convincing. I chose sane sobriety. If nothing else it's cheaper and I have legal anxie

I got a speeding ticket today. A word to the wise for my Austin friends, the officer said that they are trying to crack down on the speeding on Manchaca. I got nailed between Slaughter and Wm. Cannon. I wasn't pissed. In fact, the cop commented that he wished all of his stops were as nice as me. Seriously, what was my choice? Get mad at him? For doing his job? He didn't push my foot down on the gas pedal and  make me go 60 in a 45. And truly, the law of averages being what it is, I was long, long overdue. I was speeding and got caught. This time. I didn't get caught the 4,977 times in the past week I could have been caught. I'll pay my fine (or take defensive driving) and call it good. I can't say I was as pleased with my last ticket. It was 5:30ish in the morning. I was on my way to Dallas for an HR staff meeting. I'd been up since 3amish and probably got a sum total of four hours sleep the night before. I was on Interstate 30 cruising through Cumby, Texas at

It's an odd sort of Top Ten List. From the 'And Y'all Wonder Why I Prefer Being Single' File... Said and heard around the proverbial 'water cooler' that is my life. All regarding the wonders of dating and girlfriendship. 1. 'I don't need a girlfriend. Hell, I barely want one.' 2. 'In order to have a girlfriend, you must be one.' 3. 'You don't have a drinking problem. Really? Well, your drinking just became a problem - You drank instead of hanging out with your girlfriend. That's a problem.' 4. 'I guess you could say it was a 'Come to Jesus' kind of thing. Yeah, she's on notice. I gave her a little more rope. And you know what they do with more rope....' 5. 'I think I'll leave the saving to Jesus and the Coast Guard.' 6. 'Communication is the most important part of any relationship in my opinion. So no, you're not asking too much. Now if you were wanting a detailed report of

I'm not good with murky. I know this about myself. It's not that I need the world to be black or white; I'm cool with gray. As long as sooner or later (preferably sooner) that gray area gets defined. With definition comes less murky-ness which is always better than the alternative. I guess you could say that I'm not good with mystery. I like to know. Hell, I need to know. I'm a thinker and an analyzer (except when I'm tired... See my blog/note entitled 'But Not Too Much' for details) and I'm good at it. If things don't add up or seem odd or illogical, it creates murk. And as we've said, murk is bad, very bad. Look, I was never a big fan of math (though I enjoy basic algebra more than most people), but I have to say that it comes in handy. 1 + 1 always equals 2. Always. It's a fact that is impossible to change no matter what  level of math you ascend to. Human behavior is much the same. It is logical and predictable. And 1 + 1 always equ

My mind is elsewhere...which is to say that it's nowhere. Lately I've chosen a lack of focus. Focus means thought and that can lead almost anywhere. Some of those places may be good, but others... Others may not be as good. I'd have worries if I let myself... about money (road trip bills are piling up), home (wherever that is), work (though less now than in a long, long time), health (physical and otherwise), and my apparent psychosocial hibernation. I could go on, but I sincerely don't want to think about any of it, even in the quick passing of a fragment sentence. I let myself think about God (but not too much), Jesus (but not too much), early Christianity (but not too much), sports (but not too much), my girlfriend (but not too much), my friends (but not too much), my family (but not too much), and my writing (but not too much). I always stop short of concerted effort and focus. It just seems better this way. I have to say (and I promise I'll stop harping on th

At barely 5:45am it became my social networking status. I'll admit I stole the idea from an old Andy Gibb lyric. I heard the song on the way to work after stopping to get coffee at the Exxon and after the clerk told me an interesting story about his morning. It all seems very random unless you believe whole heartedly in the wonders of serendipity. You see, his story reminded me of a moment in time (or maybe two or three) when I was certain that I knew everything and absolutely nothing. All because of her . She was the cause and the effect, the hope and the despair, the salvation and the damnation. The question and the answer. And people say the music of the 70's was unlyrical crap. This morning Andy summed up everything that the kid at the Exxon was feeling and everything I was remembering. He used 'you'; I chose 'she'. Andy was singing to; I was intent upon de-personalizing (just in case one of the she's I was thinking about happened to see). I prefer myste

I am a Christian. Newly so. I know that may be shocking to some given my tendency to go on and on about the ineptitude, inconsistencies, and downright ugliness of Christians and Christianity. Not to worry. I'm still not a fan of Christianity as a whole. I simply like Jesus and the message of hope he had for all of us. You see, when I finally took a good, hard look at Jesus and found that he and Christianity have little in common, it changed my opinion. All along I'd equated Jesus and Christianity. Yeah, I know. My bad. His followers may suck and their interpretations of his word may be even worse, but I think he's pretty kick ass. And this is why I finally decided to come out as a Christian. It's not much different than when I came out as a lesbian. There was a small group that breathed a sigh of relief and asked why it took me so long. I'll tell you why - lesbians suck and I equated all lesbians with being a lesbian. Yeah, I know. My bad. But who knew, really? I

I don't know where to begin with this one so I think I'll begin right here. According to a variety of sources, yoga is incompatible with Christian teachings. It made The News in Austin, so I had to Google it. And yep, it's all over the Internet so it must be real. Truthfully while I may seem dutifully shocked, I'm really not. There isn't much out there that hard-line Christians say doesn't violate the teachings of Jesus Christ. I guess we can just add yoga to an illustrious list that includes alcohol consumption, smoking, premarital sex, sex with the same sex, masturbation, birth control, dancing, playing The Beatles backwards, cursing, praying to false idols, cutting one's hair (females only, apparently), wearing pants (females only, apparently), and working on the Sabbath. Ok, so why is Yoga evil? Let's peruse the Internet and see just what the fuss is about... 'Every yoga teacher is a Buddhist or Hindu missionary even though he or she wears

I write about a lot. It's true. I have few secrets. Over the years, I've told all kinds of stories about myself and been fairly vocal about my thoughts, feelings, and beliefs. For some reason, I'm becoming less forthcoming. For one thing, I don't write nearly as much as in the first few years after I started blogging. I'm not sure why that is. Lack of readership? Lack of words? Boredom? Laziness? Other hobbies? Or maybe I simply got tired of putting my every whim and action into words. The latter is most certainly a rationalization, yet it seems the most believable, don't you think? In any case, the moral of the story is that I have more secrets than ever. Funny, but I don't see this as a bad thing. I've always kept a couple secrets here and there, which I think kept people reading. They wanted to know who I was talking about and figured if they kept reading they'd eventually figure it out. Unfortunately, I seldom divulge names or anything else tha

First Armando. And now my step-brother. Both were killed 'instantly' while riding their motorcycles. This brings up a lot of questions for me, such as the true nature of 'instantly' and whether I need to scratch 'Get a Motorcycle' off my Bucket List. I mean I'm cool with death on a metaphysical level - I know what I know - but on a human level? I know what I know there, too. Dead is dead. Gone. Forever and ever, Amen. Sure, the dead person has moved on to 'What's Next' and their next spiritual adventure, but what about everyone left behind? They have to find a way to live on inspite of their loss. I can't say I'm cool with that. People say 'God as a plan' or 'it was their time' and, while that may be true, it's nothing more than placating garbage. Ultimately, my friend is dead and my step-brother is dead. I don't want to also be dead. Not that I have a 'life-wish'. I figure I'm here until I'm not.