Notes from the Red Bird House

'Vindictive' is such an ugly word. I prefer to think of vindication as an expression of my own personal power. It's not a negative from where I stand. If I'm anything, I'm quiet. I don't stalk or say nasty things. I don't slash tires or attempt to ruin lives. No, history says that I prefer to hit the gym and spray a little perfume in the right place. Long, long ago I determined that fitness is absolutely the best revenge. Fortunately and unfortunately, I'm damn good at it. Thanks for the motivation, Sweetpea. Not only am I tanned and hot, I'm probably adding years to my life. On several occasions in the past, I used my 'scent' to help me extract revenge; vindication, if you will. Power often comes from the smallest of statements. All I needed to do was spray a little mist of perfume in the right place and I was in charge. Once upon a time, I bought the perfume my ex-girlfriend loved and went to the Bar. I slid in next to her to say hi and I...

'Most of all I'm thankful for loving who I really am.' ~ from 'The Color Purple' A friend told me today that she was worried about me. I've asked why. She hasn't answered. In any case, I have a sneaking suspicion. I admit it's been a weird week and, if I'd let it, my self-esteem could have taken a beating. But truly... There's nothing to worry about. Not with me. I'm always ok. Mostly because I've always been ok. I'm strong. Rejection and devastation bring their own share of Grace. I've fought my way back too many times to count. Each time made me stronger and now I'm so strong that little bothers me. And this week, while weird, wasn't enough to get me down. There's nothing to worry about here. Nothing at all. I often get in trouble for saying, 'It's whatever'. But this week, it really was 'whatever'. Most things are. People will do what they're going to do and there's little I can to...

Perhaps I'm in the mood for a Top Ten List. It's been weird lately. I guess we'll see if I have anything to say about it. 1. Dreaming about being lost and/or losing your car two nights in a row will make forgetting where you parked at JC Penney seem freakishly like deja vu. 2. Vowing that you won't spend any money at IKEA is a waste of breath. Unless you leave your credit cards at home. 3. Anti-Everything Pills (AEPs) are truly anti-everything....except stomach aches and weight loss. 4. You'll quickly change your mind about celebrating Christmas when you realize that Santa brought you something with blond hair and blue eyes. 5. Remembering that your gym membership includes free tanning will have you hitting the gym four times a week. To tan. 6. Standing in a truth you feared telling is good for your soul....and hopefully hers. 7. Crazy tends to roll out slowly, but not before extricating yourself from its wicked web seems nearly impossible. 8. The fe...

I'd like to say she missed out tonight. So much that I'm actually going to say it. She missed out tonight. Even my roommate commented about the quality of my 'rack'. I know. I damn well know. It's not about how I look. Which makes it even worse. My looks are the worst thing about me. So what is it? I'm sound. Sound. Not perfect, but damn well good enough. I'd argue that drunk or sober. Which is probably a good thing, given that I'm currently somewhere in between. Yes, that's it. I'm somewhere in between. I'm used to it. So used to it that when I say 'it's whatever', I honestly mean 'it's whatever'. If I say it's the story of my life, I mean that fairly positively. Whatever it was (or wasn't) for all those years on end, is so much a part of who I am that I can't imagine who I'd be without it. For that reason, and that reason alone, I'm good with where it began and where it ended. I'm good with ...

I'm not saying I believe them. Honestly, it doesn't matter. Perception is always reality. Always. People will think what they will. You can explain different, even BE different, but people are people. Once they make up their mind, there is little that can be done to change it. On some occasions, this is a good thing. However, in my experience, it's usually ends up kind of sucky.  You see, from the moment they perceive 'IT' (we'll discuss exactly what 'IT' is in a moment), I might get 'One-Mississippi, Two-Mississippi' out before whatever it was we were attempting ends. Without ceremony, affection, or admission of culpability, they run. They're out. Done. And they never look back. It used to confuse me, but I'm ready for it these days. I don't wait for it, but I know it's coming. They say 'IT'. I cross my eyes, exhale, and start the egg-timer. On your mark, get set, deuces. Alright, so what is 'IT'? What are they ...

I'm not much on Christmas, as a friend reminded me this morning (she wished me a wonderful day anyway), but I am much on Christ. I am not so centric as to think that he is The only Way to God; he is merely one way. And by 'way to God', I'm speaking figuratively. Perhaps that is blasphemous of me to say, especially amid a group of traditional Christians (imagine shouting 'FIRE!' in a crowded theatre and you'll understand the full effect of that blasphemy). I am as non-literal a Christian as there can be. Christ is my spiritual leader, my 'Cliff Notes'. He is not 'my Savior' (he can still be yours, if you'd like him to be). Because of him, I have a better understanding of God and my role here on Earth. Through his true message (which may or may not be found exclusively in The Bible), my path to godliness is made easier. I listened to God a long time before I starting following the path left by Christ. The thing is, I'm still listening...

Previous to last night, I'd never won anything. Well, unless you count the Big Mouth Billy Bass I won at a company picnic back in 2000. I'm on the fence with that one. Usually I say I've never won anything because truthfully I didn't win anything except something to donate to the Goodwill or sell at a garage sale. I mean seriously, if you win a joke, is it really winning? And then there's the scratch-off lottery tickets my mom buys me every year for Christmas. In the past two years I've won a sum total of like $11, on her $40 investment. I could scratch a hundred tickets and I assure you I'd end up with about $17 and a pile of silver shavings. In the simplest terms, I'm not a winner. Now, I'm not saying I'm a loser. There's a lot of gray area between winning and losing and I feel that I navigate it pretty well. Not well enough to win anything ever, but well enough to avoid feeling like a loser while I'm not winning. You'd think with...

To Do Today: 1. Buy a new shower curtain liner 2. Grocery shopping 3. Laundry 4. Read Bible 5. Buy bottle of rum for tomorrow night 6. Buy okra for Saturday 7. Go to the gym (or walk) 8. Drink Mango Margaritas It's my day off and while I hate to do anything too focused, there are a few things I need to get done today. I'm good with all of it. Truthfully, it won't take me too long to complete the list (with the exception of the mango margaritas which tend to take longer and longer), but it's still more than I like to do with my days off. I prefer to sleep, write, and drink. Today, though, I can't afford such luxuries until I get a few things done. Like I said, I'm pretty cool with my list. With the exception of #6 - Buy Okra for Saturday. In essence I'm good with it, but in practice? I feel like I am a bit out of my league. While I count okra as one of my favorite foods of all time (already fried of course), I have never bought it (except already f...

'Love will live on and never leave.' from 'To Where You Are' by Josh Groban When I was eighteen or so, I came to the realization that I was going to do something extraordinary with my life. It was with the greatest confidence that I accepted this fact. I wasn't sure at the time what it would be. I mean, what does an eighteen year old know about 'extraordinary' anyway? I was content to wait it out and see. I didn't set goals nor did I push my luck. I sat back and waited. Some may say I'm still waiting. I say different. You see, rather than doing something extraordinary, I have become extraordinary. I think that's what God was trying to tell me all those years ago. But as a teenager planning the rest of my life, I misinterpreted His message. I heard Do Something Extraordinary; He meant Be Extraordinary. Or maybe He was telling me that I AM extraordinary. Already. Which again as a teenager who hadn't done much of anything except survive most...

I'm not going to say that all things are possible. I'm not nearly that Susie Sunshine about the world and my role in it. Faith will only get me so far. Some things simply are not possible, no matter how much I hope, pray, and/or wish on stars. I'm never going to be able to sing well enough to sing in public (not even at bad karaoke night) or run a sub-three hour marathon (that ship has long since sailed). I could list all kinds of things I would love to do, but just can't and will never. I am just not physically capable and I'm ok with it. Because for every impossibility, there are an equal number of possibilities. And (AND) a few of those impossibilities can become possibilities. I've lived it. I've done things people said I never would, things I said I never would. I can't say it had anything to do with faith (I acknowledged little in those days); it was more like dumb luck and mindless perseverance. 1. I was cut from my high school tennis team in my...

I re-entered the Sixth Circle of Hell this afternoon, otherwise known as the gym. I call it the 'Sixth Circle' because there are worse things, like baby showers, birthday parties at Chucky Cheese, and dental work without Novocaine, just to name a few. I have to admit - it had been awhile. Like since August 2010, the week before my vacation. Yes, I know it's been nearly four months. Time sure does have a way of sneaking up on you. I honestly don't feel as out of shape as I probably should. That or my expectations are really low. I made it through cardio, abs, and a short lifting session with little trouble. I do walk a lot and my job is fairly physical so I guess I'm lucky in that regard. My elbows still feel like I need double 'Tommy John' surgery (for the uninitiated, that's the surgery all the great pitchers end up getting when they tear up all the tendons in their elbows). I'm really not sure I have a tendon that isn't shredded. I'm wait...

When I was a child, I thought everyone worked 8-5 Monday through Friday. My dad left the house at 6:45am and returned around 5:45pm. We lived in the suburbs and he commuted forty-five minutes to an hour each way depending on traffic. All my friend's parents (fathers mostly) worked a similar schedule, so my assumption was perfectly logical. I don't know how I explained the people who worked in stores and restaurants that were open 'after hours' and on weekends. I probably figured that they worked 8-5 and had a second job OR that they weren't grown-ups yet with a grown-up 8-5 schedule. Little did I know that I would spend most of my career working jobs without a grown-up schedule. When I left grad school, I started working at fitness clubs. The hours sucked. I worked mornings, evenings, weekends, and holidays. I was happy to have the job and the hours. Then I became a manager at a fitness club (technically a YMCA). The hours sucked even worse. I worked mornings, eve...

'What is that? It's what I have to work with.' ~ from 'Hedwig and the Angry Inch' I am perfectly defective. God designed me perfect, yet the world sees me as somewhat... defective. And because the world sees me as defective, I see myself as defective. I'm not sure exactly what makes me defective. Different parts of the world would say different things - I like women. I haven't accepted Jesus as my Savior. I'm a Christ follower. I have brown hair. I speak only English. I drink too much. I don't drink enough. I'm medicated for anxiety. I'm introverted. I like myself too much. I don't like to read. I text too much. I'm single. I'm sarcastic. I work retail. I didn't finish my Master's degree. I prefer walking to running. I'm short. I'm tall. I'm skinny. I'm chubby. I don't eat enough vegetables. I'm allergic to cats. I'm afraid of snakes. I can't play pool. I watch too much ESPN. The world w...

In some ways I'm lucky, I guess. In other ways, it kind of hurts my ego a little. I mean it would hurt my ego, if I let it. Which I try very hard not to do. I prefer to be about me rather than about how other people see me. It works pretty well in most situations. Except maybe break ups. Just once I'd like someone I break up with to whine, cry, beg, plead, promise, stalk, debate, discuss, essentially do ANYTHING to make me think that they will miss me when I'm gone. Incidentally, they don't. Not a one. Not even the ones I'd think would create a small scene. I'm left to wonder - Did they care about me at all? Did they really want to be with me? Were they seeing someone else? Why are they seemingly not very upset about this? They should be devastated yet they are not. It really does make me wonder. Eventually I come to the conclusion that they're dumb. If they had any idea about what they stood to lose they would have been a better girlfriend and I wouldn'...

When I read back over some of the 'communication' I have with friends, I have to laugh. Taken out of context text messages and social networking comments can make absolutely no sense. Or a lot of sense, even if you have no idea what the original conversation was about. Sadly and occasionally happily, these ten statements encapsulate my life over the past week. Take them for what you will. I sure did at the time. 1. 'Of course she knows my pharmaceutical history. I was picking up xanax. That's gotta paint a pretty picture.' 2. 'She's not suddenly going to become an emotional adult. And really, I don't respond to 'deathbed' revivals.' 3. 'I do want a handgun. Better stated, I want a girl with a handgun. Now that's some sexy shit. And she can shoot her own crazy ex.' 4. 'Absolutely, she'd have had me pick her up at the jail on Sunday...' 5. 'I love the fact that I can sit here and self-evaluate my life, wit...

Yesterday I attended church for the first time since coming out as a Christian. Seriously. I've been to church only a small handful of times in my life and absolutely never as a Christian. Not even as a kid. It was a slightly different experience, but not as different as you might think. Shortly into the service a friend leaned over and asked if I was ok. Yeah, of course. It was cool. I was cool. I can't say I agreed with everything (probably not even 70% of what was said and done), but when have I ever? I'm used to being the odd one out and yesterday was just another walk in the park as far as I was concerned. I may call myself a 'Christian', however I am a totally different type of Christian than I have ever met. I'm good with that. I can go to church, listen, 'celebrate' (I use that term loosely), and draw my own conclusions about the service. Just because I don't completely agree (or agree at all) doesn't mean it's a waste of my time. My ...

The bad part about being content is that contentment doesn't motivate anything except entropy. What's even worse? I am currently content. This means I am in a decisively action-free state. I'm also exhausted. This means I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Hell, I don't even want to leave the house much less contemplate a major life change. Let me put it this way, I should have gone to the grocery store more than a week ago. However, in my current state, I'm cool with ramen noodles and Hot Pockets. I'm almost never cool with ramen noodles and Hot Pockets. The good and bad news? The Hot Pockets are gone. This means I'm going to have to break free and at least make it to the store. Assuredly that will wear me out and I'll be right back to where I started, which is a contented nowhere. A month ago I wanted to move home. I wanted to leave and never come back. I'm not saying that I fell in love with Austin in the past month. Not at all. I still tole...

A friend of mine is having dinner with a pretty friend tonight. She's calling it 'dinner'. She's free to do that. If she wants. I, on the other hand, would call it a 'date'. Me + pretty girl + dinner = 'Date'. Every time, even on Sundays. It doesn't matter who pays, who plans to pay, who picks the place, who's gay, who's straight, or who asked whom, in my book if I'm out with a pretty girl, it's a 'date'. I started doing this years ago to make myself feel better about my seemingly date-free life. I couldn't find a woman to date for real, so I decided to date them for pretend. Now, now... Before you get to thinking that I became delusional and actually BELIEVED we were dating, let me clear a few things up. While I may have wanted to be on a date with said pretty girl, I never lost sight of reality. I knew I was the only one calling it a date. She most certainly called it lunch/dinner/drink/movie with Stacee. Assuredly, no...

'Solid stone is just sand and water, baby Sand and water, and a million years gone by...' ~ Beth Nielsen Chapman, 'Sand and Water' Some things endure. They do. I know because I know. And because I've lived it every day for thirteen years. Thirteen more will go by and I will feel the same. I know because I know. He is with me now because he was with me once. I remember him in song and in the smell of vodka. I remember how he told me to 'fuck 'em all and be happy' and how I've gone back to that over and over when acceptance and happiness seemed impossible. I am who I am for many reasons. He was (is) merely one of those reasons. I always wonder if others remember him as I do. If they don't? I guess I will be happy if one person remembers me thirteen years later, so I imagine he would be cool with that, too. I think he might be surprised it's me, but then again maybe not. Through his life and death, he taught me strength - of purpose, ...