Thanksgiving: A Shakespearean Tragedy

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I'm reminded of how separated we've become as a country, as a people, and as a family.  My dad's side of the family is infamous for being on two opposing sides of the political spectrum so Thanksgiving usually starts out gentle and courteous, then alcohol (or boredom) sets in and the topic usually turns to politics.  At that point, tensions rise even in the non-participants.  Spouses begin nudging the main players, gently warning them to avoid the topic. Sometimes they even form a third team that begins a side conversation underneath the arguing about why Thanksgivings always have to be this way.

This is a tradition in my family that has existed for as long as I can remember.  My grandfather used to add fuel to the fire when he was alive.  I was pretty young, but I've been told of legendary political battles fought and lost over the Thanksgiving dinner table.  These arguments got so bad that one notable year my aunt, who's normally the poster child for calm and quiet, suddenly yelled out at my uncle to "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"  I think it was the first time I'd heard her swear or yell in my life which made it all the more impactful.

Last night, the fighting was muted compared to previous years (maybe because the audience was smaller).  I should point out at this point that I love a good debate as much as the next guy, but these aren't debates.  These are two sides who will never see the others' point of view, never acknowledge the validity of any points made by the opponent, and occasionally will sprinkle in verbal jabs like hot oil on a flame just to make sure that the other side completely shuts down any chance of listening.  They don't see the conversation as a chance to moderate the opposing side's position, they see it as a chance to pummel them into nonexistance.  In fact, they play a sort of "Name that Tune" game with each other.  Side A thinks they can name the point of the Side B's sentence in 2 words.  Once that second word leaves B's lips, A begins their response - right on top B.  B, who is speaking and hearing (vs. listening) at the same time, hears the first two words of A and begins modifying his response to address it.  It's the fastest totem pole climb you've ever witnessed and the result is a long mashup of dueling monologues trying to out shout the other as if volume is what will convince them rather than substance.  The only change in the brains of the those present is a throbbing headache from all the shouting.

If this sounds a lot like Congress to you, I agree.  But in fact, it's Congress that's degenerated, not my family.  As I mentioned, this has been going on in my family for decades and probably many other families as well and I've always counted on Congress to be the proverbial adult in the room.  The children argue, they both think they're right, and the adults step in and come up with a reasonable, fair solution whereby no one gets everything they want but everyone gets something they want.  Yet now congress seems to be acting like my family and that is not good for this country.

By far, the worst part of the setup is that both sides think they are moderate and reasonable.  It's the other side that's not.  It's a little like the statistical impossibility that is everyone thinking they're an above average driver.  That part is the hardest to watch.  It's like watching a Shakespearian tragedy.  You can see both sides ramping up for a really unhappy ending and there's nothing you can do to stop it.  I've tried to act as a mediator by acknowledging each side's good points and trying to act as a sort of vitriol translator.  My job includes trying to turn "Bill O'Reilly is an idiot!" into "What he's trying to say is, he needs evidence from a primary source, not a secondary source" and "You guys don't want people to be able to get wealthy!" into "What he's trying to say is he thinks you're against wealth, not wealthy people's behavior".  It works for a while, but the moment things start to get too reasonable, it's as if an alarm goes off in the heads of both sides and someone from the left yells out, "Oh?  Did you learn that on Faux News!?!" or someone from the right says, "Oh?  Did Governor Moonbeam tell you that?" and down we go.

That alarm actually has some ancient history.  Human beings like confrontations to result in fight or flight responses because they're easier for us to handle.  It's much easier to fight or flee than to reason through a non-fighting/fleeing response so we've created roles to help engage our reptilian brains.  These roles are victim, rescuer, and persecutor and they're everywhere in our culture.  Princess Leia? Victim.  Hans Solo/Luke Skywalker? Rescuer.  And we all know who the persecutor is.  In fact, almost every piece of fiction ever created since the beginning of man has characters assigned to these three roles.  Our brains are wired to see the world through this three-sided filter.  Our parents argued in front of us with it as kids, it was how fictional TV characters interacted, how our history is presented in school, and on and on.

Even though we switch between these roles (sometimes moment to moment in the same conversation), we all have a preferred role in our lives.  Like a favorite pair of shoes, this role just fits right.  If that role is persecutor, we need victims so we either attract them to us or make them by pouring out personal attacks.  If we tend to be victims, we need persecutors so we either attract them to us or persecute someone until they persecute back.  Then, like a warm bath, we lie back and relish in our victimhood.  If we're rescuers, we're always looking for the prosecuted and trying to jump to their aid.  In a sense, rescuers are prosecutors as well.  They're simultaneously prosecuting the victim by essentially saying, "It's ok.  I can see you can't handle this on your own so let me step in" and then prosecuting the prosecutor on behalf of the victim (rescuer is my preferred role but it's not something I'm proud of.  None of us should be proud of these roles).  If we find a conversation steering away from our preferred role, we pour a little gas on the fire to keep it going in a direction that helps us react on autopilot.  We do anything we can to keep from having to challenge our entrenched positions.

All this roleplaying makes for confrontations that can be every bit as explosive and unproductive as they are in TV, movies, or novels.  The reason is obvious:  we don't care about learning or helping others learn, we care about winning.  Winning at all costs.  Winning at the expense of a peaceful evening with family. Winning at the expense of hurt feelings.  Winning at the cost of the truth or facts.  The more each side cares about winning at all costs, the more likely that no one can claim even a portion of victory at all and the Shakespearean tragedy is complete.

Each year at Thanksgiving, I start out hopeful.  Not that we'll avoid politics - I enjoy learning from all sides - but that we'll learn to see each other's side just a bit more than when we started and have a reasonable discussion.  But the propaganda rivers run deep and the mutual respect is sorely lacking.  Eventually, the reasonableness deteriorates into cheap shots and name calling from the trenches - much like politicians have begun to do.  We aren't a better family because of it and we aren't a better country either.  Maybe one day we'll all figure that out.  In the meantime, pass the leftover turkey.  I'm determined to have something about last night be wonderful.

Deliverance Meets Gay Pride

Guerneville, CA is a strange place that Jesse and I have really been struggling to get used to. Sort of like watching the Will Smith movie Wild Wild West and getting used to seeing robots and cowboys on screen together. As you walk through town there are subtle and not so subtle clues that being gay is ok here. These clues are badly needed because without them, you'd think a mob with torches would assemble the moment you grab your partner's hand in public. There are gay pride flags sprinkled throughout town. A set of dinnerware in a window display, available in all colors of the rainbow, are arranged as one to let you know that. The local pizza joint is run by a lesbian, the coffee shop in town has gay couples strolling about. Yet sprinkled about are some pretty shady looking characters. The kind you read about in drug pamphlets but never see. There are fairly young people here with some big drug problems. They look much older than they are. Much older. There are quite a few homeless people here too. Also sprinkled about are hitchhikers, some of whom you get the idea that they'd trade you blow for blow if you catch my drift.

Last night, Jesse and I went to the Rainbow Cattle bar just down the street from Rainbow Rentals and Rainbow Fabrics (see?). It looked like any other gay bar we've ever been to. Complete with throbbing techno music. But something just feels out of place. Like the gays are an alien race holding the straights hostage here or something. The town has two websites as if they're skating the line between quaint riverside resort town and FABULOUSSSSS!

You can walk by a sports bar downtown and you can smell the testosterone coming out of the place with disheveled-looking folks standing on the sidewalk in front looking like they're in the midst of a drug deal and you're interrupting that would fit right in, say, in front of a seedy bar in Modesto. Then turn a corner and an older gay couple with an adopted black kid will be strolling down the street. It's jarring. I wish I knew someone that lived here who I could ask about the history and the strange double message coming from the place. They really should consider changing the name from Guerneville to Sybil.

I guess what I'm saying is, I can't tell whether the gays are tolerating the straights here or vice versa - or if toleration isn't even needed. Perhaps it's complete blissful acceptance. I've not seen a mean mug once since I've been here - even from the druggies. It makes me wonder what it'd be like to grow up here as a teenager - gay or straight. According to the 2010 census, there are a couple hundred kids 16 and under but none 17 or 18. That tells me that kids get their license and use it to get the hell out of here. The majority of the population falls between 30 and 60.

Could I see retiring here? Maybe. The place we're staying is certainly beautiful. I'd like to spend more time here first and I'd definitely have to find that local citizen to get the lowdown on the town. Until then, Jesse and I have one ear on the techno music and one listening out for the Deliverance theme.

Turning 40: Thoughts about Mortality

I've had quite a few reactions when I tell people I just turned 40. Many assume that I see it as a bad thing and offer some words of encouragement without prompting. "Oh it's just another day" or "It's just a number" or "40 is so young!" What no one wants to say is that turning 40 is like cresting the hill of life. The uphill battle of leaving your childhood to be an adult is now being replaced by the downward coast to old age (if we're lucky) and, inevitably, death.

The difference between me and most people is that I didn't just begin having thoughts about mortality (mine and other people's) around my 40th birthday. I've not really stopped thinking about it since I lost my friend Dave in a car accident at 17. It was that day that I learned that life truly can end abruptly, without warning, and without the time to say goodbye.

Don't be mistaken, however. I don't fear my death. If I live with any fear at the moment, it's leaving this planet before I get a chance to do a few things on my bucket list. What I've been thinking about recently are the smaller things...

• Will I regret not holding Jesse's hand in public? When I'm lying there in my own private world, the people whom I spared discomfort by not doing so will mean nothing to me.
• Will I regret working too much?
• Will I regret going to school?
• Will I regret the many hours I've spent playing World of Warcraft?
• Will I regret not making more time for friends and family?
• Not losing weight? Not taking my medication as regularly as I should have?
• Not reading more?
• Sleeping too much? Or perhaps not enough?

In other words, will I regret all the moments I squandered, taking for granted that more of them would be coming?

These are the things that weigh heavy on my mind these days. It isn't the fear of dying. It's the fear of dying before I get to make some of the right decisions in my life and 40 just brings to my attention that I'd better get started. It prompts questions such as:

• Do I spend enough time doing the things I love - both alone and with the people I love?
• Do I pursue money at the expense of happiness with the misguided thought that it's what is keeping happiness away from me?
• Do I hold onto and overvalue material things?
• Do I place too much value on getting my degree vs. the process of getting educated?

There is a blurry line in some of these questions, however. I don't think it's being materialistic when you value something that brings you great joy. People often accused me of being materialistic when I owned my Corvette, yet what they didn't know (or couldn't believe) was that the Corvette provided me a driving experience that brought great joy (and often excitement) to my transportation. My vette was a driving experience, the Camry is just a car - a mode of transportation. I don't think I've ever taken it for a recreational drive just to drive like I used to do with the Corvette. I digress. I seem to do that more these days.

Life is a race. A race against time. A race where you trade time for money and money for time trying to find the right balance between the two so you can end up at "your day" with the satisfaction that you said what you wanted to say, did what you wanted to do, and were who you wanted to be before you got there.

So it may be time to let go of home ownership for a while. It may be time to let go of school and the idea of getting a degree. It may be time to set realistic career goals and turn a more serious eye towards my retirement income before I end up with lots of time and no money.

It isn't turning 40 that triggers these thoughts. It's watching life come and go for the inhabitants of this planet every day. Bus accidents, earthquakes, tsunamis, war. The victims of these things did not wake up that day knowing that it was their last. I wonder what they would have done differently that day if they'd known. What about the week prior? The decade? The reality is, we could be in our last decade, week, or day right now. Maybe it's time we all lived like it. What better way to be without regrets at the end?

The candle is getting shorter

Here it is 8pm and the word exhausted doesn't begin to describe my physical and mental state right now. I got up at 7am, worked from 8am to 10:30, drove to Pleasanton for my piano lesson, at noon, I drove back to Livermore to meet my friends Brian and Rick for lunch. I was enjoying the distraction from my routine so much that I stayed at the restaurant an hour and a half and by the time I got back, my boss was ticked. The stress of that did me in. I worked from 2 pm until 5:20, then quickly fed the dog and drove to Biology. Most of what she said in class went right over my head. I feel like she's speaking a foreign language - she mostly is. I really didn't know if I was going to be able to stay awake. Mercifully, she cut us loose 15 minutes early. But my day still isn't over. I'm now attempting to work to make up the time I spent at lunch today.

The midterm for Biology and Business Law are going to scare the shit out of me. I can already tell. The only light is that I'm done with BEING AT school until Monday. Now I just have to burn up a whole bunch of midnight oil to get homework done and to keep my study guides up to date.... oh... and get a bunch of paperwork together for Wells Fargo by Friday morning.

I think I can... I think I can...

Like Drops of Water Into a Bucket Already Nearing Full

So it begins. Tomorrow I begin my first class of three plus piano lessons. After I put it all in the calendar, including Jesse's schedule, it's official: We will have no life until May. Last week, my piano teacher assigned me a bunch of music to learn. I've been practicing about an hour every day and I must say I'm pleased with the notable progress I've made (pun intended). Tonight I received an email from my Business Law professor and she assigned us two chapters of reading plus a full reading of the constitution. I can almost hear the starter's pistol in my head. The real test is when it all happens at once, full time work, three classes plus a lab, a side of piano lessons followed by a mortgage fiasco and recovering dog to complete the meal. I often wonder if my brain can really do this. I'm about to turn 40. Maybe there's a limit to how much water this thing can hold. Or, if I'm lucky, maybe I can keep trading it in for a bigger bucket for a little while longer.

The only way to find out is to try. Annnnd he's off.... To bed. Zzzzz

The Balance of Power

I've come to the conclusion that stress in life is largely driven by a, perhaps perceived, loss of control over one's future. When the events, the outcome of decisions, our job, or our obligations stack up against us, they lead to an overall sense of powerlessness. Lately this has perfectly described the cause of my stress. So much sanity was riding on Wells Fargo deciding whether or not to modify my home loan. When they decided not to, I was pushed into a corner.

The decision really boiled down to this: Keep the house and face the reality of not being able to afford veterinarian appointments (of which Kisho has had far too many of recently), dental visits, new eyeglasses, new tires for my car, healthier food, sanity breaks out of the house occasionally, new clothes, Christmas gifts... (I could really go on and on) or let go of the house and reclaim the power over my present and future.

The decision has many facets - almost too many - and to get a handle on them all, I took all the numerical ones and put them in a giant spreadsheet... four of them actually. Each spreadsheet looked at the outcome of a different option. Emotions aside, this is a fairly easy mathematical decision. The financial outcomes are very different between the status quo and deciding to walk away from the house.

While I never imagined that I'd be at this place, sometimes we need to reclaim our future from our present. I'm just months away from 40. If I have any intention of retiring at a reasonable age with a reasonable income to take me through the home stretch, the decisions I make today will greatly impact that future. The wealthy investors who decided, from their ivory tower, not to modify my mortgage, don't have a concern over their retirement. It's time for me to reclaim my power. My power over my future and my power over my present.

A Mind Changed

I've noticed, as I've gotten older, that the moments where someone can get me to see something in an entirely new light are becoming increasingly rare. I honestly do not believe this is because I'm becoming more stubborn with age - though I suppose it's a possibility. No, instead I think it's because as I get older, my positions have become more reasoned. Facts and research have whittled away at the parts that were perhaps a bit shaky to begin with. It's true that there is always the danger of confirmation bias but I've worked pretty hard to keep my mind open and to challenge my reasoning with opposing opinion.

So it was with a pleasant surprise that I watched the video below of a speech given by Jonathan Rauch about why we have free speech. For the first part of the video, I had my doubts that I was going to end up agreeing with him. In the end, he had me thoroughly convinced. This lecture is about 30 minutes long, but I encourage you to grab a cup of coffee and sit down with it. I think you'll have an entirely different context on free speech when it hurts minorities.

Jonathan Rauch - FIRE's CFN 2010 from The FIRE on Vimeo.

My Thoughts About Marriage

I've often said that gays from my generation (and even more so from previous generations) got a late start in the journey of relationships. By the time many of us were in college, our straight peers had already had their hearts broken, asked girls out on dates, been to Junior Proms and Senior Balls, and likely been in a mutual loving relationship at least once if not many times.

At that age, I was just coming out of the closet. I'd been through a lot emotionally: Being teased in high school, having crushes on guys who didn't feel the same way, wondering if I'm the only gay person in my town, and in general, feeling emotionally alone. I'd had my heart broken (silently and unintentionally) more times by the time I graduated high school than most, but what I'd never had by then was someone who felt the same about me that I did for them.

One of the things my straight peers got to do in those college years was entertain the thought of getting married. I'm sure for most of them, it wasn't a question of if it was a question of when. Many of them are friends on Facebook and I can see that they are, in fact, married - some several times. Getting married was a thought I never permitted myself to have because it likely would have depressed me.

Here we are in 2010. First it's legal, then it's not, now it is, but don't hold your breath because this court or that court could change their minds. Through it all, what's just occurring to me is how behind I am in even thinking about marriage. What it really means.

For most of my adult life, the idea of committing to someone was a no-brainer. But there is something about standing in front of your friends and family and your God (if applicable) and swearing your love for another. There is something about knowing that you can't dissolve this without some serious financial pain and legal paperwork (and maybe attorneys). It keeps you at the table during a fight. It keeps you faithful when you're tempted. There's something about being truly financially responsible for another human being and vice versa. There's something about introducing your partner as your husband (As an aside, if I had a nickel for ever time I've introduced Jesse as my partner and had someone say, "Business partner?" I could end world hunger). There's something to marriage and that something is what gay people want to be a part of. I don't need a piece of paper or a word to make me love Jesse more. I need the piece of paper and the word to help everyone else understand how much I do. For the first time, they might allow themselves to relate to gay people and say, "Oooooh. I get it. This isn't about sex. It's about love. The kind of love I have for my wife." Yes. That kind.

The sad part is, I'm again faced with being a noob. Since I've really never put much thought into being married up until now, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be thinking about. I don't know when and if and how. Jesse is young at 25. He's had even less time not to think about it. He's had even less time to absorb what it means (at the moment, he doesn't see the difference between what we have and being married). His thought is, "I'm here, we're committed. Why the pomp and circumstance?"

But pomp and circumstance is not the marriage, it's the wedding. So many straight couples plan the wedding for a year and never put much planning into the marriage at all. For me, marriage is about that something. That something that is more than "just" a committed relationship. It's a public face on that relationship. It allows me to visit him in the hospital or him to make medical decisions for me. It allows a gay person to fall in love overseas and not be forced to choose between the person he loves and his country. It allows inheritance without a will. It allows social security (literally). It allows medical spousal benefits, it's husband vs partner and on and on. These are things that my straight peers may take for granted, but they're something, and that something is worth fighting for.

Imagine...

Imagine if you were the kind of person who, for your whole life - even as a little kid, expressed your thoughts and feelings openly. Imagine that every time a conflict happened, you immediately expressed your thoughts and heard the other person's and came to a compromise or at least listened and were heard.

Now imagine if you, being this expressive person, suddenly found yourself in a relationship with a person who lacked integrity, rewrote history to make himself right (and, often, to make you wrong), invented people, places, and things, dramatically exaggerated to "win", cut you off in mid-sentence, completely disregarded your professional experience and opinion, was so self-absorbed that he rarely asked about your life and feigned interest when it came up - mainly using it to talk about himself.

Imagine that your attempts to handle this the way you always have - by communicating openly and honestly - is received with animosity and more of the above. And you're getting angrier and angrier and it's building up inside. Then yesterday you overhear this person tell someone else that your partner has a small brain and the anger is so great that you simply must leave. You complain of a stomach ache (which is only halfway untrue) and go home. He responds with a phone call expressing concern that you're ok but that simply cannot be reconciled with his complete lack of empathy and selflessness at all other times.

The intensity of this rarely happens to you because of how communicative you are. It's very uncomfortable and you can feel it physically making you ill. But you're stuck. Because you need this person. The only thoughts running through your head while awake are angry and bitter. While asleep, you dream of unleashing the anger in a verbal tirade and walking out, yet somehow intuitively knowing that this would be you acting just like him and the thought of THAT sickens you more. Because this has built up, unleashing it now would create a tidal wave of emotion that would easily overcome the years of training you've had in communication. It would surely result in the end of your job - either voluntarily or otherwise. So you sit and stew...

...and feel like a prostitute every time you get your paycheck.

An Afternoon of Bonding

Today, I decided - rather sporadically - to take Kisho hiking. Jesse is buried with work this weekend and we both have to work tomorrow (him due to volume and me due to saving my PTO) and I couldn't let today's weather go by without enjoying it. Last night, Christy and Eric were over and she mentioned that there was a place that Nancy talked about called "Little Yosemite" in Sunol. Nancy confirmed it this morning and I looked it up. I packed up a backpack, went to subway and got a little picnic sandwich for myself, and the two of us headed out.

Those of you who follow the situation know that Kisho and I have gotten off to a bit of a rough start. I'm certain that 99% of it is my expectations being too high and 1% is his personality. He's been a handful in the sense that he doesn't listen sometimes. This is only made more frustrating because he does listen the rest of the time so you know it's him choosing not to when he doesn't. The dog can hear a butterfly fart two houses down but he can't hear me yelling at him to drop the kleenex he just kidnapped from the garbage can. Right. Dog trainers call this phase "Sudden Deaf Syndrome". It's when a dominant breed says to himself, "Nah. Not gonna do it. Lalalalala I can't hear anything!"

His rebelliousness is hard to hold up against the last 10 plus years I had with Kuma who (and perhaps I'm guilty of revising history here a bit) was so gentle and obedient. I've been having a hard time bonding with him as a result. It's hard to bond with a creature that gives you the middle claw whenever he doesn't feel like obeying (which, incidentally, is why I'm not much of a cat person).

Today, that changed. Our hike pushed us both physically a bit. I don't mean cliff climbing or anything, but it was warm and there were hills to climb and descend and when we got to Little Yosemite, we had a bit of a steep hill to navigate down and up. Kisho got to jump around in the river (though he chickened out on swimming). We met tons of people, kids, dogs, horses, butterflies, lizards, rushing water, and on and on. I try to see the world through Kisho's eyes whenever I can and I imagine that today was full of growth for him. Plus it is impossible for someone to walk by us without someone complimenting me on how beautiful he is and "what kind of dog is he?", etc. I think I said, "Thank you. He's an Akita. He's four months. Yeah he's going to be big." about 30 times today. Throughout the day, I asked him to press on when he was tired and he trusted me to get him water and rest.

We finished the day with Kisho's first swim in the swimming pool at home. After I got him off the step, he floated in my arms and relaxed which Cesar says is the ultimate in trust. So he does trust me and I do love him. I know we bonded a little bit more today and I look forward to more days like this one. He's been passed out since. I know his doggie dreams can now include horses, hills, rivers, and other dogs now. What greater honor can one have than to impact the mental development of another creature? I'm blessed and I look forward to the many years that Kisho will have with us.

Midlife Crisis?

As 40 approaches, I've begun to think a lot about what I've accomplished and what I still hope to before it's my time. I'm also starting to think about the things I over value and, perhaps more importantly, the things I under value. Both are sitting on a road that leads only to regret and when I'm nearing the end of my life, I'd like to leave here with as few regrets as possible. That means striving to change what I can and accepting what I can't.

There is plenty to be thankful for and a few things I'm still on the fence about. Probably my biggest sense of unfulfillment is coming from my job. While I'm extremely proud of my work (I consider it some of my best), I'm often left wondering where it's all leading? I know my boss intends to sell the company in a few years and walk away with his millions into the sunset, but where will that leave me? Do I just chalk this up again to yet another person I've helped become a millionaire? Is this my lot in life? The main issue with work is that it's a pretty unrelenting, thankless job. When you continually do good work, go above and beyond the call of duty and are given no thanks, no acknowledgement, and not the slightest amount of flexibility when you need it, you start to wonder if it's all worth it. Here's the path to anxiety: Start with a general distaste for the job as described above, start thinking about maybe looking for another job, start wondering if you could make the money you're making somewhere else, beat yourself up for needing to make that kind of money, start to realize that you're trapped in your house because it's that or lose everything, rinse and repeat.

In the past several days, I've fantasized (though not seriously considered), just walking away from it all. Sell the piano, the Camry, the motorcycle, the truck. Buy a cheap used car, walk away from the house, go live in a shack somewhere in Oregon and do retail work to keep the lights on and the stomach full. Maybe pick up gardening. I often wonder what it would be like to be FREE of obligation. Free of timelines and deadlines and have-to's. It's what I would do with the money if I ever had millions. In that sense, money really would buy happiness for me. So is this a midlife crisis? Who knows. It's only a few of the symptoms from this list. It doesn't feel like one. It just feels like general dissatisfaction and concern for the future.

In the end, what I'm coming to is not a fear of death, but an awareness that if my future life is going to amount to a hill of beans, I no longer have time remaining to keep procrastinating from making the changes necessary. Some of these changes will require significant time and energy investments. In the coming days and weeks, I'm going to begin outlining the changes, the sacrifices, and the efforts I'm going to need to do to make it possible to end up where I want when I retire as well as do some serious looking at where exactly I do want to end up.

Midlife crisis or not, I'm not going to just sit on my hands and pout. It's time to get this show on the road.

The Art of Raising a Puppy

The book should have been titled, "The Exhaustion of Raising a Puppy". As you may have heard, we have a new puppy. His name is Kisho, but we've nicknamed him Satan. Just kidding. He's a sweetie but he is verrrry stubborn. Much more so than I remember Kuma being. If he wants to bite a rock and you block him with your leg and tell him no, he'll try again and again and again. Fifty times if you don't distract him somehow.

Crate training him has been a matter of choosing your pain. Either you watch him with 110% attention (meaning you can do nothing else), or you hear him crying and wailing in the cage (meaning you can do nothing else because you can't concentrate). Bottom line, zero productivity.

I've been disappointed with how conflicting the online resources are for crate training. Most of them say things like, "If the puppy starts to cry, firmly strike the cage with the palm of your hand and sternly say 'No!'" They've obviously never met a puppy like Satan... erm... Kisho. Only one guide I read even really discussed the dog crying in the cage and said, "Ignore him. Period. If you let him out while he's crying, you're setting yourself back a week in training." My breeder agreed. She told me yesterday that he was a handful in the litter. Not because he's aggressive but because he's stubborn. She said she'd never have given him to a first-time Akita home.

But we both love him to death. He's a sweet dog and when he's not being a rambunctious little shit, he's adorable. His face would turn a heart of stone into mush in seconds. Yes we have accidents, yes he wakes us up at 5:45 AM. Yes he wants to put everything in his mouth, but that's part of having a puppy and we wanted the experience.

Can't Sleep

It's almost midnight. I was lying in bed trying to sleep, but my mind is overflowing. I figured here and now is a good place and time for me to unload a bit...

First, after getting Kuma's ashes back and being without him for several weeks (honestly it seems longer, but I think that's a good thing because it means I'm healing), I've been thinking a lot about what part of having Kuma was Kuma and what part of having him was owning a dog. Kuma was fiercely loyal and obedient which is a trait of Akitas. In Japan, they refer to the breed as a one man dog because of how loyal they are to their "packs". Kuma definitely fit that trait. He was fearless and even had a couple opportunities to protect me from a bear or two during his lifetime - something Akitas instinctually know how to do.

There are some things that I miss that are just part of owning a dog... a happy wagging tail when I come home from work, a companion when I'm feeling particularly alone or loving, unconditional love (something the humans in my life fight a lifelong struggle to give), security of knowing that the house is protected while I'm gone. Kuma did all of these things perfectly and now he's passed away. Some say that dogs don't live as long as humans so that we can experience many of them in our lifetimes and while I don't expect another dog to replace Kuma, getting a puppy is on the horizon. We've applied for a recent litter and it looks like we may end up with a female this time but I'm going to let fate handle that part. If Kuma's soul wants to be a part of this new dog, the gender won't matter. Delivery to us would be one week after my birthday.

Next up on the can't sleep train is how much I'm going to miss Jesse next week. It's true that we spend A LOT of time together and you'd think that a break would be welcome but, speaking for myself, I'm not looking forward to it. I absolutely love sleeping next to him and when he's not here, the house feels very empty. With Kuma gone, it will be especially empty and I may lean on friends and family a bit for a distraction from it during the week. Jesse will be enjoying himself with friends and family which is overdue and I'm glad that he's going... but I hate it too. I know it sounds crazy. I told you I couldn't sleep!

Next topic: The piano. I did my budget today (now that my checks are steady and taxes are being taken out) and it's a little tighter than I thought it was. It's not anywhere close to panic time (still well above water) but - and I hate to say this - I probably shouldn't have bought the piano. The $300 a month would have gone a long way to more speedily paying off my two other debts and/or helping me put money together to remodel the master bathroom and kitchen. Piano lessons (another $300 a month) would just make it tighter so I've postponed that indefinitely. I can't tell you how disappointed I am about that, but there's nothing I can do about it right now.

The bottom line is, I'm helping to put Jesse through school. That's expensive not because Jesse doesn't pay for anything (because he does). It's expensive because of the cost of his time while he's in class. He doesn't make very good money at my work (it's just enough to pay his bills and give him some spending cash), but they offer so much flexibility during the week and we save money by working together (one commute) that it's difficult to justify him changing jobs - nevermind how tough the job market is right now which is a whole different issue. Plus, if he started waiting tables again, he'd definitely have to work weekends and that would REALLY suck for us.

Doing my budget today was rather deflating but I'm seeing this as a period in our lives where we may have to sacrifice some of the things we want (remodel) for the long term goal of Jesse getting into a career which will ultimately get us both more of what we want.

In the meantime, the Piano is getting played almost daily. Even Jesse is practicing his scales. And since I'm almost positive that's what the piano teacher would have me do also, I'm going to at least do that while I wait for the income lever to go up or the expense lever to go down.

Owning a new puppy won't be cheap either. I know from experience there's lots to buy and set up for the new arrival. Puppy proofing the cupboards, the backyard, getting a crate for him/her, toys, food, collars, leashes, vaccinations, etc. It adds up.

But I guess the way to see it is, so what if I can't remodel the bathroom or kitchen right now. I have a piano that I love, I'll have a puppy that needs me and that I'll love, and a partner who's growing his mind in order to help support us all. Things could be much worse.

I guess that's it for now. Hopefully I can get my mind to slow down a bit now and get some sleep.

2009: A Year in Reviw

At the beginning of 2009, I wrote a post called "2009: The Year of Enlightenment". I closed that post with the following words:

Whatever happens, I've made a promise to my soul to bless the bad as well as the good. To see each experience - especially the negative ones - as golden opportunities to define who I am.

This year, my course is set and my sail is hoisted. I feel a wind at my back. It's time to sit back and see where this takes me.

As I end 2009 and begin 2010 with the loss of my best friend, it's important that I remember that promise to my self. Kuma's entrance into my life was just as important to my evolution as his departure was and will be in the coming years.

2009 was, in fact, quite enlightening for me. The first major event was my weekend at the Mankind Project. It was life changing for me. As I reported when I came back, I'm not at all ashamed to say that I came back from that experience a man. Someone who stood firmly on his own two feet and felt really comfortable in his own skin for the first time. I was completely ok being single if that were my destiny.

Before I could reach my next milestone (my motorcycle trip to Canada), my grandmother passed away. I miss her very much and her smile is permanently etched into my memory. Her passing came literally days before I was scheduled to depart to Canada (a trip I had been planning for over a year) so I was unable to attend the small family gathering in her honor. Instead, I chose to take one of her earrings with me in the breast pocket of my motorcycle suit, right next to my heart.

During that trip, I got to see my cousin Monique's brand new baby Dario. Seeing a newborn so soon after my grandmother's passing reminded me that life is cyclical. I also met the man who's books changed my life many years ago. It was also during this trip that Jesse and I decided to give things one more try. Not a bad series of developments for one three week trip.

My career has undergone some serious evolution as well. In 2009, I completed the transition I began in 2008 from Mac Systems Engineer to Filemaker Pro developer by quitting my job at Beezwax (just before my trip) and starting at Unified Compliance as the Database Architect when I returned. I have no regrets for these moves and am excited about what lies ahead.

The final five to six months of 2009 have been spent getting more involved with my job and closer to Jesse. The year finished with bitter sweetness. A fun time in San Francisco where Jesse and I made new friends and rekindled old ones followed by the loss of Kuma and a pretty crappy cold.

I refuse to let the tone of 2010 be set by these events, however. The paths we walk in our lives have uphill sections and downhill sections but they always lead forward. Forward is the direction I'll always yearn for and, true to my promise to myself a year ago, I bless the good and the bad as they are all opportunities to define myself, to grow, and to evolve. On this ship, I've gained a crew member and lost one. The struggles are part of the experience of life and I'm ready to continue to another year of successes and failures and of gains and losses.

Happy New Decade.

Saying Goodbye to a Best Friend

How do you say goodbye to a friend who's been literally by your side for every up and down in your life for over eleven years? How do you sum up so many memories, so many happy thoughts, so many proud moments in just a blog post?

Kuma was as close to a son as I'll likely ever have. Today was his day to cross over. I knew it was coming and I knew that that wouldn't help me prepare for it. Having him put to sleep today was one of the most painful things I've ever had to do in 38 years.

For almost my entire adult life up to now, I was blessed with a dog who surpassed every expectation I ever had. He was every Akita trait all wrapped up in one dog. He was passionate, loving, protective, and beautiful on the inside and out.

Kuma taught me the meaning of unconditional love and I always looked to him as an example for how to give it. He was always there for me whether I was crying or laughing and I have always felt safe in his presence. He protected me and those I love. He tirelessly followed us throughout the house to make sure he always picked a place to lay down where he could keep a watchful eye over us.

An arduous commute home was always made better by the thought of Kuma, who would be waiting anxiously for Jesse and I to unlock the front door so he could dance around us in joy. A dance, I fear, that I took for granted and am now going to miss tremendously. One of many things that fall into that category, I'm afraid. The house seems empty without him and, for the moment, so is my heart. But as painful as today and the coming days and weeks will be, I would never trade the eleven years of happiness and companionship we've shared together to avoid it.

So I revisit the question I started with: How do you say goodbye to a friend who's been with you for eleven years? With gut-wrenching sadness, with love, with honor, with hope, with belief, with relief, with compassion, and with the understanding that he is now standing proudly with those who've left before me. Heaven has gained a gentle, loving soul today and my family and I have lost the physical reminder of it, but Kuma's memory will live on with us in our hearts.

Kuma, you and I looked into each other's eyes today and I know you understood that it was time to go. You went with strength, protecting me to the very end. Watch over me from above and help me to be strong too. I will love you from here as I always have and in that way, our friendship will continue on for all of eternity. Just the way a best friendship would.

Rest in peace, my friend.

A Gift for Myself This Christmas

Since I was a senior in high school (20 years now) I've wanted a Yamaha Disklavier piano. In case you're wondering what it is, check out these videos:

There is a feature on this version that allows me to record my own playing and when the video is played back, the piano in the room plays instead of the audio from the recording. To see a demo of that, watch this guy play a piece that normally requires two pianists. He videoed himself playing one part and played it back playing the second part life. Notice that his piano is playing both parts:

This piano has always been out of my reach for one reason or another. Everything from space to money to priorities. This year, the stars have aligned to allow me to purchase one for myself. The timing couldn't have been better because just weeks ago, Yamaha released the latest generation upright Disklavier. This version has an ethernet port literally on board and can play live music streaming from Yamaha's Internet "Radio" stations. It also can play other instruments as well. It has a full sound module on board and can play drums and other instruments with the piano. When I take delivery of mine, I promise to video a sample of that.

So even though selling my Vette represented a step back for me in terms of my bucket list, this purchase is a step forward. I will likely have this piano for the rest of my life. I'm looking forward to many happy memories and a great new hobby that doesn't (directly) involve a computer heheh.

R.I.P

Michael and Farrah.

Both showed beauty inside and out. The world will miss you both.

Two People. Two Journeys

Today, I'm sad to announce the passing of my grandmother (Oma), Wilma Lemson. She begins her journey the day before I begin one of my own. I was blessed to have such a wonderful woman in my life who demonstrated selflessness in a way that very few people could. She lived without my grandfather for a long period of her life and lost two sisters but I never saw her complain. She taught me about my dutch heritage and her life was steeped in dutch tradition.

Even as we mourn the departure of someone we loved dearly, in just three short days, my cousin Monique will be bringing a new life into this world. Life is amazing when it transforms into a body and even when it transforms out of a shape we recognize into an energy we have not learned to feel or see.

To my Oma, you were loved and adored more than you could possibly know. I don't want to see you go, but I'm glad you've rejoined with Opa and all the others who've gone before you. I will take your memory with me wherever I go and I know you are in a better place, free of pain, free of the limitations of age, free of obligation, free of worry, free of fear, and surrounded by the essence of life itself which is love. Watch over us and keep us safe.

Rest in Peace.

Weird Horoscopes

So next week's travel horoscope for me:

Pisces Weekly Travel Horoscope
Mon, Jun 15 - Sun, Jun 21

Since when did you become a travel guide? It's probably just your usual helpful nature, so as the week begins, don't be surprised to find yourself handing out traveling tips and tricks to a crew of grateful fellow explorers. You could use a break from fretting over your own itinerary. Midweek finds you full of yourself, but in a good way. You're all energy, and your trip is about to produce the sort of self-perspective and transformation that all great journeys should. The later days of the week could find you a little bewildered and beside yourself (handcuff yourself to those bags if you don't want to absent-mindedly misplace them!), but the weekend should bring you back to your centered, sensitive self. A romantic dinner would make the perfect finale.

And here's today's Horoscope:

Be open to change today and you may uncover new gems. These changes don't have to be extreme; they could be as simple as hitting a new neighborhood for lunch. You may discover an authentic Szechuan restaurant that doesn't use MSG and whose fiery hot and sour soup lives up to its reputation."

So the weird part is, I read that last horoscope as I was putting down my spoon from an authentic Szechuan restaurant's hot and sour soup in downtown Walnut Creek (an area I've yet to eat lunch in since I started my job in Lafayette). Anyone hear the twilight zone theme? I am.

My Evil Side

Ok, it comes out every once in a while. So I was in my car coming home yesterday afternoon and I come up on a white van with a big "Yes on Prop 8" sticker in the back window. The guy driving, who's fertility must be legendary, has his family of eight* in tow and turns his blinker on to come over to the slow lane as I'm coming up on his right. He decides I'm too close and waits for me to pass on his right.

My suspicion is that he's going for my exit so I decided to come up slowly, let the entire family see my gay pride sticker on the back window, then I sat there on his right. When he slowed, I slowed and when he sped up I sped up. Nothing too obvious, just enough to make it so he couldn't come over. I wanted his family of 12 to see a real gay person. A normal guy in his white Camry. A person that they voted to deny the right to marry. Here they are proudly proclaiming this on their car long after the measure passed. I thought about how proud this guy must be. Look at me! I've got eight kids! Look at me! I have a loving family in my white van and we're all coming back from church! Look at me! I'm going to deprive others from forming such a family if I don't agree with who they are.

Mr. Fertility, Mr. (my) Family Values missed his exit. And the last thing he saw was me taking it with my gay pride sticker on the back window and an expression on my face that said, "You haven't taken my pride away. And this isn't over yet." I can't deprive him of his right to marry, but I can deprive him of his exit and I did and it felt good.

* As an aside, I think large families are the epitome of self importance. What they say to me is, I'm not content extending my genes. My genes are so important that I need to make many children in a world that is overpopulated and having a difficult time sustaining itself. My advice for these people is they should have sex with themselves (I'd use the other phrase here, but I'll leave that up to you). At least then, it won't result in a kid.