I've spent my life trying to find a way to satisfy some hunger within me.  I, like all those around me, found myself caught in the constant pursuit of things, possessions.  Life becomes work — the constant drive to obtain and own and do.  I was living to work instead of working to live.

With a home full of stuff and pockets full of money, my life was empty, the wasteland of consumerism, a heart so dry.

I wanted to be recognized as one to take the lead, but somewhere in the crowd I lost the road.  I was running around in circles and never getting anywhere.  I always found myself alone, empty heart, empty life.

I've wasted hours searching with no true understanding of what I was searching for.

I couldn't see where I should go or what I should do.

I spent too much time tending to those things which I and others thought I should tend to, ultimately with no regard for myself, my own satisfaction, my own life.  I spent my time pursuing rather than doing, obtaining rather than experiencing, working rather than living.

Now I've run out of control.  I'm small.  I'm spent.  I'm lost in indecision.  I feel as though I'm spinning out of control.

Chaos dances with me in the light of tomorrow's promise, yet I remain empty-handed, for anything declared for days to come is a promise unfulfilled.  Living has been that promise for me.

Yet deep within me, as in some ancient heart, I hear the war drums beating, heralding the coming peace long waited for.

Desperately I grab the last crumbs from destiny's three-legged table, hopeful that it will be enough to sustain me, enough to get me through, enough to keep me on my feet while I attempt to once again find my path, a new path, a new life, a new beginning.

The strangers that I meet and pass in the city's broken roar leave me with hellos and welcome me with goodbyes, yet I do not hear their words because they fall on ears too hungry with longing, hungry with longing to hear just one "I love you" from a deep voice flowing from lips wet with knowing me, longing to hear life call out to me, longing to hear that beauty waits within.

But shadows are lurking around the room.  They call out to me, calling me back to where I've been, calling me back.  I want to scream but am scared to.  Scared to scream, scared to move, scared to breathe.

But who is this shadow cast who comes to me now in darker times?

I see the boy dejected because he could not be what others wanted, the friend who always helps and therefore cannot ask for help, the lover who hides his guilt, the man nearly crippled by anger raging too deep, the person abused through his willingness to help, the soldier who keeps marching despite the sacrifices.  Then there's the shame and the fear and the resentment and the sorrow.  They're all me.

Yet now I realize how many years I've wasted here in this place.

My life is to be lived.

So I begin the process of stripping away the old, and it feels good, it feels right, like heading home — not where I came from or where I am, but where I'm going.  That's where I need to be.

I step slowly but deliberately.  Very soon there will be a time when life is about living again.  I can feel change in the air, hear it on the wind like a lover's gentle whisper, calling to me, urging me forward, telling me that deep inside I'm still good.

When days are one by one full of life, full of living, then I will be home.

With everything I have going on in my life right now, my friend Libby could tell I was stressed when I sat down with her at the local Starbucks for a cup of coffee and some friendly conversation.  When she asked me what was going on, I gave her the Reader’s Digest version so I wouldn’t look like I was stumping for sympathy votes.  Sure, the job is rough and hectic with too many long hours, finances are tight, the situation with my roommate is boiling over, and the list goes on.  She knows all of this already, so I responded to her question with something akin to "I’m just stressed, tired, have too much going on, need a break, blah blah blah."

She immediately recommended a book, something to take my mind off of my own worries, something that would help put things into perspective.

What book is that, Libby?

P.S. Your Cat Is Dead is the book, and, lucky for me, she just happens to have a copy she can let me borrow.

So I sit down the other evening to read.  The book is only about 230 pages long, so I knew I could finish it in one evening.  Boy am I glad I did.

Written by James Kirkwood, coauthor of A Chorus Line, the book is an exceptional exploration of life with a darkly humorous twist.  The blurb on the front of the paperback version says it all.

“It’s New Year’s Eve.  Your best friend died in September, you’ve been robbed twice, your girlfriend is leaving you, you’ve just lost your job… and the only one left to talk to is a gay burglar you’ve got tied up in the kitchen.”

Rest assured that the dark humor doesn’t stop there.

I read through this book in only a few hours and found myself drawn so closely to it that I was almost frightened by it’s apparent application to my own life.  Just when you think things can’t get worse, they do.

So I found myself wrapped in this story from stem to stern.  Only after I finished it did I realize it was far more than a dark comedy.

Only recently had I reached a place in my own life where I realized that drastic changes were needed.  P.S. Your Cat Is Dead was the perfect complement to my own realizations as it ultimately boiled down to someone who must lay aside their former self and take a dramatic, drastic step in a different direction in order to keep from going under — mentally, financially, emotionally, and in many other ways.

After I finished it, I felt justified, vindicated, supported and ultimately satisfied.  My recent decision to get my life turned in a different direction — from living arrangements to job to focus to priorities to possessions — suddenly made perfect sense.

I won’t give the details of the story since part of the allure of it is the unbelievable yet very real presentation of life as most of us live it — one catastrophe at a time, wondering when it all ends, wondering where the fun is, hoping we will be allowed to actually live rather than constantly chasing the ethereal dream which we know deep down inside we will never attain.

I highly recommend this book to anyone who has ever thought that it couldn’t possibly get worse.  Thanks to Libby, I read it at just the right time in my life — when it would do the most good.  It helped me to see that my approach to life hadn’t worked and that it truly was time for a change.

Go find a copy and read it.  I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.  I sure as hell wasn’t.

Grendel had his annual exam and vaccinations today.  Another year gone by.  At seven-and-a-half years old, he's in really good health despite his asthma and hip surgery.  In fact, the last time Jenny was over she mentioned how good he looks (mostly in reference to his weight loss after getting off of the corticosteroid and on to the inhaler for his asthma).

Despite growling at the vet for giving him two shots (distemper and rabies, one in each side), he was such a good boy.  He had his temperature taken (a clear violation of his personal space and dignity, but a necessary evil), his weight was taken, he was poked and prodded and forced to endure great hardship for the doctor, but, in the end, he survived with only a bruised ego.

Since I only get their distemper vaccinations once every three years (more than that is over-vaccinating the animal and can be unhealthy), he won't have to endure two shots again until 2007 (although, between now and then, he'll still get his rabies shot once a year).

For being such a good boy at the vet, today will be a treat day — either salmon or tuna or baby food or canned CD or something else equally as yummy.

Gee, I wish I had such a hard life…

The opportunity finally presented itself for me to get some pictures of my car posted.  There's a new gallery called Lexus IS 300 that has some exterior and interior shots of my awesome ride.

When Lexus announced in the late nineties that they would be releasing the IS 300 in America, I was thrilled.  I had followed the car through its various releases in Europe and Japan with delight as it was the first sport sedan Lexus designed to compete with the BMW 3 Series and the Audi A4.  Since Lexus (and Toyota) had been making the best cars for several years and my dissatisfaction with American cars had grown to a deafening roar, the IS 300 was right down my alley.

In late 1999, Lexus announced the IS 300 would be released in America in early 2000 (the 2001 year model).  I immediately ran down to my nearest Lexus dealership, Park Place Lexus, and ordered one.

The IS 300 didn't have many options because it was already a fully loaded car.  The few things I added were the limited slip differential, the heated seats, tinted windows, and a spoiler.  The base model (at the time) already came with the sport seating (perforated leather), full-function moonroof, 17″ alloy wheels with low-profile tires, power front seats, and a whole list of other goodies.

I was disheartened when Lexus delayed the release — several times, I might add — until early in August when I got a call from my salesman at Park Place telling me my car was on the boat.

I was so excited!  I had been looking forward to having one of the first IS 300s in the country since the initial announcement of their pending release here.

On September 7 of 2000, I drove it off the lot and have been thrilled with it since then.  No problems, no road noise, no wind noise, a perfect ride, plenty of power, and service that is second to none has made me a Lexus fan for life.

Of course, now that it's nearly four years old, I'm looking forward to the future release of the new IS models.  Although nothing is definite at this time, take a peak at what AutoWeek had to say about the upcoming models.  My current plan is to wait until I can order a new one, then I'll trade in my current car.  Luckily they retain good value (again thanks to the quality).

But all of that is in the future.  Besides, enough talk, more pictures.

Here are some highlights from the new gallery.

Here's a shot of the dashboard to give you a feel for the interior of the car.  You'll also notice the perforated leather at the bottom of the picture — this covers all of the seating surfaces (provides better grip than anything else I've seen).

If, like me, the driver instrument console caught your attention, here's a better shot of it (with the chronometer-style instrumentation).  I've always thought of it as nice, clean, functional and very cool.

Here are a few exterior shots of the car.

You can see a few more shots (interior and exterior) in the Lexus IS 300 gallery.

My niece, Courtney, recently competed in the FCCLA (Family, Career and Community Leaders of America) competition at the National Leadership Meeting in Chicago.  She competed against students from all around the US and from Puerto Rico.  I know she's been working hard preparing for this meeting and competition, so it's wonderful to know her diligence paid off.

She started by winning the local and state competitions.  Now she can add the national title to her résumé.  She won the gold at the national level!

Keep up the hard work and dedication, and remember that we all love you and support you in all of your endeavors.

Congratulations, Court!

I recently wrote to my Senator (Kay Bailey Hutchison, a Republican) regarding the Federal Marriage Amendment (S.J. Res 30, recently shot down through a procedural endeavor by the Democrats and some thankfully moderate Republicans).  I of course wrote to her voicing my staunch opposition to any attempt to ingrain discrimination into the US Constitution.  Apparently she thinks that's actually a good idea.

I'm posting the canned response I received because, not only is it canned, it clearly indicates that dear Kay believes in discrimination, believes it should be ingrained in the Constitution, and believes the lies the Republicans are telling about trying to save marriage and the traditional family by taking rights away from a minority (perhaps she should consider outlawing divorce if she's so interested in saving marriage).

Perhaps, as a woman, Kay has forgotten what it feels like to be a minority with rights taken away from you by government after government.

So, read her response.  It will help you realize how shallow, small-minded, bigoted, discriminatory and hateful she really is.  Oh, and it also shows how she quickly and easily changes her mind regarding federal interference in a state matter.

Dear Mr. so-and-so:

Thank you for contacting me regarding same-sex marriages.  I welcome your thoughts and comments on this issue.

Marriage laws have historically been the responsibility of state governments, and I generally oppose federal government intrusion into matters of state authority.  Periodically, however, one state's action can have serious and far-reaching implications for other states, particularly because our Constitution requires states to give full faith and credit to the laws of other states.

In 1996, the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) defined marriage as only between a man and a woman.  I voted for this federal law, and I continue to support it today because I believe the traditional family unit should remain the foundation of our society.  The recent decision by a narrow majority of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court mandating same-sex marriage threatens to overturn DOMA nationwide and effectively make that single state's marriage policy the law of our entire country.

In response, Senator Wayne Allard (R-CO) has introduced S.J. Res. 30, the Federal Marriage Amendment, of which I am a co-sponsor.  This bill would amend the Constitution to define marriage in the United States as consisting only of the union of a man and a woman.  Currently, S.J. Res. 30 is under review by the Senate Committee on the Judiciary.  When this legislation comes before the full Senate for a vote, I intend to support its passage.

I appreciate hearing from you and hope you will not hesitate to keep in touch on any issue of concern to you.

Sincerely,

Kay Bailey Hutchison

KBH:cfh

The last several weeks have just wiped me out, hence my absence for the last week or so.  First was my roommate's whole medical fiasco and eventual return home (which was hectic enough), then my Mom fell ill, then I came down with a nasty summer cold (which is still not entirely gone), and now my roommate is back in the hospital.  It looks as though he might have cancer (lymphoma to be precise), but I won't bore you with the details.  Suffice it to say that he is once again quite ill and facing a serious health crisis.  To top it all off, work has been kicking my ass.  With emergencies and lots of big projects going on, I've barely had time to think clearly and certainly haven't had time to live my life.

And that brings me to my frustration of late.

As Jenny and I have been discussing lately, life has simply become too full of minding the affairs of others while my own personal life languishes on the sidelines.  I'm not saying I'm a cold-hearted bastard, but when did I sign on to be everyone's keeper?

I ask that because, for the nine months that my roommate was in the hospital the first time, I ran my ass off keeping his affairs in order since he was unable to.  I was also responsible for his health care when he was unable to make those decisions on his own.

Now, a few months later and back in the same situation (in the hospital, that is), it would seem that once again Derek's life falls on me to maintain.

It's not that I don't care about my roommate.  We're very good friends and have been roommates for many years.  Our interests have normally been similar and complementary, yet we both enjoyed the freedom of sharing living expenses while being able to live our own lives.

So how did it fall to me to be the responsible party when he fell ill?

I'm not a member of his family.  We're not married or dating or in any way involved.

Where's his family, you ask?  They've never been told about his condition nor that he has been close to death many times in the last two years.  That's a decision he made and I respected.  Now, however, I'm realizing that only exacerbated the problem as it was taken to mean that I did indeed accept responsibility for him.

Where are his friends?  They've never been told nor do I expect them to be told any time soon.

So who visits him in the hospital?  That would be me and my friends.  Who calls and asks about him?  That would be me and my friends and family.  Who takes care of his affairs when he can't?  That would be me and my friends.

At the expense of my own personal life, I have been forced into being the primary care giver for someone with whom I am no more than close friends and roommates, forced to sacrifice my own life and desires and plans time and time again in favor of his, forced to give up personal endeavors so I can manage his life, forced to make life and death decisions for his health and medical care, and the list goes on.

I've grown to resent him and myself for this entire situation.  I allowed it to get out of control and he's taken it for granted — taken advantage of me and my compassion in order to hide his condition from his own friends and family.

As I've explained to Jenny on many occasions and to my mother only recently, it's as if he's living vicariously through me now.  The only friends he has here in Dallas are my friends.  The only people who know about his condition are me, my friends and family.  The only people who take care of him are me and my friends.  The only people who will help him get the care he needs are me and my friends.  The only people who will clean up after him are me and my friends.

What's wrong with this picture?

As you might be able to tell from this post, I'm a little pissed about the whole situation.  Never having received a single "thank you" for all I've done already, I find myself in the same situation as before with Derek simply expecting that I will continue to handle his life while he's unable to do so, that I will continue to be his keeper, that I will continue to sacrifice my own life in favor of his.

Sadly, I've finally reached my limit.  I am not to be taken advantage of.  I am not to be stepped on simply because you can't or won't take responsibility for your own life.

Sick or not, hospitalized or not, I do not intend to keep doing this.  All of my free time is gone, all of my plans are canceled, and all of the things which are important to me are slowly slipping away as I have less and less time to focus on them.

This isn't living.  It's working for no pay.

And I fully expect Derek to be rather upset with me when he finds out I've decided we're not going to be roommates moving forward.  I intend to part ways this autumn or winter.  At this point in time, I feel it's the only way to force him to take responsibility for his own life, to use his own support structure of family and friends, and to stop using me — yes, I said he's using me.

Perception is reality, and I perceive that I am being used and have been for the last year at least.

Well, the buck stops here.

This is a letter I wrote to Rick about eight years ago.  He's never seen it as it was meant more as a personal outlet than a declaration to be shared.

After I wrote These are the words I never speak back in March and followed that with the Relativity series in April, I've spent a lot of time considering my refractory emotions regarding Rick.  Needless to say, nothing has changed.  So it was with some pleasure that I remembered this letter and decided now was a perfect time to include it here.

I suppose what remains so interesting about this letter is its applicability today versus when it was written eight years ago.  As I read through it this morning in preparation to post it here, I realized how so very little things have changed in that time.  I could have written this today.  My feelings for him, ab ovo through the present, have not diminished or changed despite their sometimes abstruse existence.

Every time I think about how wonderful life is with you in it, I'm thankful for a chance to love someone as special as you.  I can't imagine life without your smiles, your gentle touch, or your understanding hugs.  You bring out the best in me so easily.  You draw to the surface all that I am and can be — the potential within.  You relax and comfort me just by being yourself, by being with me.  It just wouldn't be the same not having you to be with at the end of a long, hard day.

Every time I think about how much fun we have together, I'm thankful for your wonderful sense of humor.  You always know just what to do to make me laugh.  Even when I was in a bad mood you could lift my spirits with nothing more than one of your wonderful smiles.  Our relationship doesn't require pretenses or machinations.  It doesn't require maintenance or monitoring.  It's as comfortable as a blanket fresh from the dryer.

Every time I think about how happy you make me, I'm thankful for the chance to know you.  It doesn't matter whether we are talking seriously, laughing at a private joke, or just enjoying a comfortable silence, we can enjoy each other's company without having to entertain one another.  When we don't want to deal with the drama of everyday life, we can slip easily into each other's company and savor the reassurance that neither of us has to prove anything.  We enjoy being together because we enjoy who the other person is, not who we want them to be or who they want us to be.  I love being with you.

Every time I think about how much I love you, I realize how lucky I am to share a part of your life and to have you in mine.  I would not trade a moment of knowing you for all the riches in the world.  My feelings for you run deep and have carved a place for you in my heart which cannot be filled by any other.  Even if we are never to be more than friends, I am a better man with you in my life.

I am thankful for the gift of knowing you.

[circa 1996]

I went to see this movie a few weeks ago with Rick.  We decided it was a "stupid movie" afternoon — that is to say, an afternoon during which one does not wish to think or consider anything beyond what one is eating and drinking at that moment.  We decided The Day After Tomorrow looked mindless enough, while including plenty of death and destruction, to satisfy our requirements.

Void of any decent plot, character development and engaging dialog, we weren't disappointed by this movie's ability to overestimate itself.  Taking itself far too seriously, the laughably preposterous science used in an attempt to mask the absence of these other movie essentials makes the whole thing seem so entirely unconvincing.  At no time did I experience "suspension of disbelief," the state of mind necessary to be fully engaged by a movie, so I was therefore left to wallow in agony as I watched the actors as actors, listed to the dialog as a screenplay, saw the special effects as a question of what platform it was put together on, and far too many "I knew that was going to happen" moments.

It's predictable, mind-numbingly tedious, scientifically groundless, politically transparent, and bills itself as a movie with far more excitement to offer than it really has.  This movie has very little death and destruction and a whole lot of nauseating and unnecessary drama.

I don't hate it because there's not enough content to hate.  I wouldn't not recommend seeing it in the theater just to see the destruction on the big screen, although I won't fail to admit that I think it was a waste of money.

Am I sorry I went and saw it?  Absolutely not.  It was a wonderful afternoon with Rick, someone with whom you know I don't mind spending time.  Were there much better things we could have been doing with our time?  Unquestionably.

So, to summarize my review of The Day After Tomorrow, whatever.

Lexus, for the 10th year in a row, won top honors in J.D. Power and Associates' annual vehicle quality survey.  In case you hadn't heard, I own a 2001 Lexus IS 300, so I was thrilled to see them on top once again.  Knowing how happy I am with my car, how few problems I've had with it, and the fantastic level of service I receive from Lexus, you can probably tell I was not surprised by these specific results.  Many of the other automobile manufacturers did surprise me, however, especially because some American car companies actually stomped their foreign competitors.

Read this article for the details.  Like me, you're apt to be surprised by some of the rankings (especially Volkswagen, Mercedes and Range Rover).