Gifts.

Christmas came early for me.
Mom had my gifts sent to my apartment in Austin before I left for my hometown.

But in case you were wondering what I got:

- accent chair
- beer pilsners (8)
- dinnerware (4)
- gifts cards: Gap, Panera, Subway, Target, Wal*Mart
- picture frames (6)
- wine glasses (4)

I'm most excited about the wine glasses because they can hold an entire bottle of wine.
Did I say I was cutting down on the drinking?
... who was I kidding?

Merry Christmas everyone!
What'd you get??

"Congratulations" to the groom. "Best Wishes" to the groom.

It's the eve of my departure from my hometown.
Current temp; 22 degrees, blowing snow.

I've been in Iowa for eight days now.

It was great to see aunts and uncles - some more than others.
It was great to see my sisters and brother.
It was great to see my mom and stepdad.

Prior to this trip, I had numerous high school friends to reconnect with ...
No reconnections established.
In fact, I successfully eluded everyone's glances at Christmas Eve mass at my old church - except for Mrs. Temeyer, my high school journalism teacher. She was in the top row of the choir and I could feel her eyes burning alliterations into my skull all through the sermon.
She hugged me while I was concentrating on the hems of my 511's.

Based upon physical observations, my former classmates in church that night appeared to have grown out - I mean up; grown up. If not married already, many are now engaged. A few even have kids already.

I always thought that marriage was kind of an end-all.
Like, a person gets married when they're ready to settle down.
Your life is no longer the focus ... 'your' life suddenly becomes 'our' life.
And then you have children.

If marriage is an end-all, children is a death sentence.

Well, I used to think this.

On Saturday, my grandparent's home hosted relatives from all sides of the family - and what a difference a year makes. There were kids everywhere.
Instead of holding a baby, I carefully picked up a bottle of wine from the fridge and nursed it instead.
The day dragged on and the party got smaller and smaller ...
New Mommys and Daddys were searching all over the expansive house for lost booties, pacifiers, bottles, etc... and I was asked to hold a baby girl.

I set down the wine and held the baby.
She started to cry.
I panicked.

As cliché as this is, she looked in my eyes for awhile and stopped crying. She gripped my fingers. She fell asleep.

Shiiit.

She got me. She was so precious ... and I wanted one.
I put a reminder in my phone to put a baby girl on my 2011 Christmas Wish List.

So, I'm cool w/ the kid thing.
Now my only problem is marriage.

I never saw myself getting married. Ever.
Now that I'm seeing people I've grown up with and are my own age getting engaged, married, hitched, etc ... all I can think about is how I cannot do any of those things.

Definitely now - and still awhile from now, gay-marriage will not held w/ the same regard as a marriage between a male and a female ... sad, but true.
If I had brought my serious boyfriend home for the holidays, planned a surprise proposal, then expected my family to gush over the ring when he asked for someone to pass the dinner rolls - it wouldn't fly.
(It's not within my character to parttake in the above cliché anyway)
When I see some of the gays on Facebook listed as "ENGAGED" to their boyfriend - I just roll my eyes.
And in the distant future, when same-sex marriage/unions are legal nation-wide, will there be any kind of honor attached to the marriage title? - the lustre is already diminishing now-a-days w/ the two out of three marriages ending in divorce.

This saddens me.
Remember, I have a black heart - so it's nothing that will wreck me.
But I don't think I can be truly happy for my friends and family members getting engaged this time of year because I'll always be a bridesmaid, never a bride.

Pretending to be deep.

This is a reaction paper I did for a philosophy class. Sometimes, I'm too sassy for my own good. Let me know what you think:

Benjamin Haight

Epicurean

Philosophy T/Th; 2:50

December 7, 2010

Reaction: Existentialism is a Humanism

“Existentialism is a Humanism” was written by Jean-Paul Sartre to offer a defense of existentialism against several reproaches that have been laid against it in the early twentieth century.

Sartre labels himself as an Atheistic Existentialist who believes if God does not exist, there is at least one being whose existence comes before its essence, a being which exists before it can be defined by any conception of it. That being is man and mankind (Sartre). His simple viewpoint is this; existence precedes essence.

A key example in Sartre’s definition is that man first of all exists; he encounters himself, surges up in the world and defines himself afterwards. Thus, man is responsible for what he becomes and there is no predestined plan to which man should follow – something many believers of God think throughout their lives. The key for existentialists is the ability of people to make the proper choices in their lives. There is no single human nature which limits us in what we can do; according to Sartre, we are all radically free and capable of doing whatever we want. It is the affirmation of humanity’s freedom which is the only appropriate humanism we should follow.

I fully agree with Jean-Paul Sartre – man simply is what he wills. Some view my long-standing stance on God’s non-existence as sad and pessimistic. I feel I just see the world as a realist.

We have fully entered into the holiday season and recently an American Atheist group has posted a billboard outside the Lincoln Tunnel in New Jersey depicting the biblical reference of the three kings following the North Star to bring gifts to a baby Jesus. In large white lettering, the billboard states, “You know it’s a myth.” Being raised a Catholic, I know all about the reasons behind Christmas – and presently, I couldn’t be more amused by this advertisement.

I accept that the bible is a collection of fables created to aid folks in honesty, morality and a sense of faith, but I ridicule those who believe those stories as fact.

As an American, I’m aware of that internal mantra of “achieving the American dream,” and see the connection with Sartre’s view that no one is made better by anything other than their own actions. Where would we be today if everyone simply offered their outcome to chance – I’m sorry, “faith?”

Man, before all else, propels himself toward a future and is aware he is doing so.

3 AM.

So, it's 3:16 AM pre-Thanksgiving Day and I am white-wine drunk ... finally going to bed after chatting/catching up with my dad all evening.
My sister and her boyfriend arrived later this evening from a short stay in Dallas and overall 14-hour trip from E. Iowa.
Dad finished the "leftovers" turkey - a 21 lb beauty that we sliced, diced and placed into tupperware. Tomorrow's turkey is a fresh Tom being reserved ... he tips the scales at 27 lbs. When you're as good at cooking as my dad is, you don't mess around - you prepare for such events and roast yourself a "leftovers" turkey.
Also, a heaping bowl of secret-family-recipe stuffing is ready too!
Two jugs of pinot grigio have been had this evening alone ... Tomorrow night ads fall-themed cocktails, beer, more wine and yes - a hottub.
I love Thanksgiving.
Wish you were here!
Just don't you dare take my pre-made leftovers, biiitch!

Sheltered.

I went to Disneyworld in Orlando with my family one summer in high school. It was a rainy, but warm day - I remember how humid it was because my mom's naturally curly hair was out of control.
Disneyworld doesn't seem so exciting when you're in high school - plus I had been there previously w/ my sister Clare just before my mom was getting married to Rick, my stepdad. But it was a vacation and it was really great to show the three youngest ones how much fun Disneyworld was - that it surpassed anything you saw on TV or what your friends had told you about it.
Admit it, when you're between six and ten years old, Disneyworld is supreme.

I was sixteen, maybe seventeen at the time ... that morning was chaotic to say the least, but all seven of us managed to pile into the Silver Chrysler Town & Country and enter the park before opening. The day was perfect, the twins and Emily especially had a great time ... it was a successful first trip to Disneyworld for them. We stayed all day, night had fallen and it was time to leave.
If you've ever stayed at Walt Disneyworld until close, you'll know what I'm talking about - hundreds, maybe thousands of people collectively moving towards the exit is pretty nuts. My parents had navigate five kids through the slew of tourists. Somehow I had gotten further ahead of my family to the point where I couldn't see them behind me anymore.
I remember stopping to wait for them to catch up to me, slightly being shoved around by the massive hoard of people leaving the park - no joke, it was a slower-paced "running of the bulls" ... well, and it was with humans instead of cattle. But hopefully you can understand that I was standing still in a sea of people anxiously moving past me.

I had a cell phone at this age, but it wasn't like now where I can't leave the house w/o it ... I remember I left it charging at the rental house.
I didn't panic, I assumed the smartest thing to do was to head to the van and wait there for my family to arrive.

I boarded the trolly, rode about ten minutes to the vast blacktop of rental cars and vans, somehow pinpointed the silver Town & Country we had arrived in and waited.
And waited... and waited.

A scrawny, blonde-haired boy w/ braces just chilling on the bumper of a minivan as dozens of cars drove past. Thinking back, I can't believe no one stopped to see if I needed help.
As I mentioned before, I didn't panic - I was actually proud of myself for getting myself back to the van.

However, back at the exit of the park - my family was hysterical. They had contacted security, reported me missing, later that night, my kid-sister Emily told me she was crying so hard because she thought she'd never see me again.

The thoughts racing through my parents' minds must have been horrendous.
I was a smart-ass kid from a tiny town where nothing bad happens. At the time, there was no way I could comprehend kidnapping, child molestation, child trafficking, etc...
When security finally reached me - ours was the only van left in the parking lot (to which I couldn't see an end; that's how vast these lots are), they confirmed I was the missing kid and told me to sit tight ... then let me be ... by myself... again (fucking idiots).
Maybe twenty minutes later, I saw my mom sprinting towards me - makeup running down her face ... she must have aged five years in those three hours.
She pummeled me, hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe. I could barely understand what she was yelling at me between gasps for breath and hysterical crying and "I love you so much" murmurs.
Even my stoic stepdad had been crying and hugged me and told me he loved me, that he was so glad I was okay.

I think about that summer night in Orlando a lot.

I think about it often because I don't think I'll ever be able to return to the innocence I lost that night. The safe and stable bubble I lived in and knew so well ... popped.
If anything, things got much worse.

Soon after moving to Texas, I was hanging out w/ a high school graduate from Cedar Park who was temporarily living at an Extended Stay because his family moved out of state, but he was to attend college in the area. We got something to eat, and upon returning and taking the stairs to his room, a man had hanged himself in the stairwell - his eyes still open. I'll never shake that image.
Later, getting acquainted w/ Austin, I found a personal assistant ad on Craigslist and submitted my resumé. The man was a lobbyist and ran his own company w/ headquarters in the most well-known building in downtown Austin. He was a friendly, single older gentleman who was very work-oriented and the job kept me busy. I was paid well and had fun. I didn't think it weird at all when he asked me to work weekends at his home office, doing light cleaning, giving his dog baths outside, mowing his lawn shirtless - I was getting paid and it was easy. I was even furnished an iPhone for "work."
However, a "business trip" was scheduled to San Francisco in September of 2009 - the man booked me a ticket, hotel room and said any/all expenses would be covered by the company. Together we flew from Austin to San Fran and I thought it was kind of weird that we ended up having to share a hotel room, considering I was told I would get my own.
Nothing on the agenda the first day, let's explore the city - and we did.
Second day ... no meetings, no presentations - we took a wine tour in Napa Valley.
Third day, scott-free schedule. That night we went out to the Castro district where my intoxicated boss shared w/ me that he was gay. I had honestly felt the vibe before, but never said anything.
I shrugged it off and moved to the dancefloor. I had a good buzz and danced with a cute guy I had met at a sunglass shop on the first day or exploring the city. At bar close, I walked out w/ cute guy and proceeded to get his number ... my boss made a b-line towards me and whispered in my ear, "You're fucking fired, you fucking slut." And got into a cab and left.
With no luck hailing a cab, I used my iPhone to find the hotel and started walking the three mile stretch back. An incoming text said my boss was going to disconnect my phone.
More pissed than anything, I ignored my boss and continued walking ... he was waiting at the front door of the hotel. I entered through a service entrance in an alley and took the elevator to the room.
With the alcohol in full effect, I brashly decided I was going to leave. Once to the hotel room, I deadlocked to door and started frantically packing my bags. Hearing the key and attempts to enter, I quickly gathered all my belongings, unlocked the deadbolt and locked myself in the bathroom.
Sitting in silence, I heard my boss shuffle around the room ... asking me numerous times to come out so we could talk. After a few minutes, I opened the door - before I knew what was happening, I was placed in a choke-hold and my boss was attempting to undress me.
My air supply was being cut off, but I still managed to scream for help! Screaming louder than I ever thought possible, I startled my boss and backed him hard into the wall. Being older, this took a lot out of him and I was able to break free.
I buttoned my pants, grabbed my suitcase and fled for the elevator - tears flooding down my face. For some reason I didn't stop at the front desk for help. I think I was too terrified of being followed.
I was out on the streets w/ a suitcase in the wee hours of the morning, crying and w/o a working phone. After twenty minutes of aimless wandering, I found an open hotel and asked to use the phone - I called my mom and throughout sobs told her the entire trip being a setup and feeling so cheap and abused. She suggested I call the police but I was too crazed, I wanted to get out of town.
The friendly hotel concierge called for an airport shuttle and I waited in SFO for the earliest departure back to Austin.

By now you think I would have gotten wise ... sadly, no.
Recently, after losing my tanning job, I was so desperate for some sort of income that I turned to Craigslist, yet again. A personal assistant job, yet again.
I applied for the job, attached my resumé and received a response the next day.
The gentleman said he was a lawyer focused on U.S. visas and was the president of a newly formed charity and that he often traveled back and forth from his hometown in Australia to Austin, TX.
He asked me a series of questions about myself, saying he wanted to conduct an email interview.
After answering all questions, he emailed the next day saying he felt comfortable hiring me and we settled on a pay rate... his emails were even sent at odd times that fit the time zone of where he said he lived in Australia.
A few days passed and he said he had task for me. I needed to intercept a check destined for an AIDS Awareness charity here in Austin, but first take my cut for first week's pay from the check - the remainder was to be Money Ordered to the charity.
(Yes, I know ... repeating this all, I'm asking myself "how could I be so stupid?!")
FedEx delivered an envelope to me some odd days later, and the day I received it, I received an email from the man saying he'd gotten confirmation of delivery... he gave me all info as to where the check needed to be sent too.
Now, at this time, school had just started back up, so I decided to knock all this out w/ my bank ... the teller didn't flinch when I went to deposit the check - even sent me on my way w/ a receipt for a $4000 deposit. She mentioned it would take a day or two for the check to clear.
This was no bother to my new "boss," he said after it cleared to let him know and he would notify the charity.
During these two days, I contacted him asking him about his arrival back in the states, could we get together over the phone sometime, etc ... no such issues were ever discussed.
Two days passed and I went to withdraw some cash to do laundry, but my card kept showing an error screen at the ATM. So I went inside to the bank where the branch manager stopped me and invited me in her office (I knew her fairly well as I used the same bank all the time).
She showed me the check I had deposited two days earlier and asked where it was from ... I answered honestly and she said she had bad news for me.
The check was completely fake. The teller knew it as soon as she saw it, but was new and thought I was a scammer - homegirl actually thought she'd get a bonus for spotting a scammer.
The nice bank manager told me she was so sorry this had happened to me, but at least I was notified before I unknowingly tried to wire $4K to someone ... and folks, I DO NOT HAVE $4K!
Sadly, the bank had to follow procedure and shut my accounts down and I could no longer bank w/ them.
Pissed off and humiliated, I fired off an extremely long and explicit email to that gentleman and never heard from him again.

I haven't really ever spoken about these incidents to many people ... it's just sad to see how hardened I've become since leaving the comfort and safety of my hometown. I don't exactly like the changes that have come about in my life, so writing all of this is a reminder to myself and warning to others.

Urban NOasis.

Ahhh - come on.
I don't know if any of you ever watch HGTV, but each year they do a "dream home" giveaway. Essentially, it's an amazing (furnished) home, a car and a $500,000 cash prize ... and it's open to anybody to enter.
I've been entering in these giveaways for a few years now ... me and my dad always "oooh" and "ahhh" over each new "dream home." In the past, there's been a beach house in the Florida Keys, a farm house in Napa Valley and an adobe in New Mexico ... to name a few.
This year, the "dream home" was a stellar giveaway - a one-million dollar apartment in The W Hotel & Residences in the financial district of New York City. Holly effing shit.
What an amazing prize!
On top of a furnished one bed/one bath NYC apartment, the winner received $500K and a 2011 Acura ZSX (it's ugly, but it's an Acura - I'd take it!).
There were many ways to enter - internet, snail mail and phone registry.
According to the rules, you could only enter twice a day.

Folks ... I entered twice a day, everyday for over two months!!!!

What would I do had I won? I don't fucking know! But I'd be in New York, New York w/ $500K. I'm sure I could easily find something to do!
I just watched the giveaway on HGTV. Ugh, but sadly I wasn't awarded the prize... some fatty engineer student in (nasty) Florida won. And the dope entered once. Just once.

Ugggh. Oh well, you best believe I'ma be entering in every giveaway from here on out.

Peeping Tom.

Don't you wish that you could be a fly on the wall? A sneaky little, creepy little fly on the wall ... don't worry, I'm just being Miley.

But honestly, are you ever so wrapped up in yourself that it makes you stop and wonder what others think of you, your actions, your behavior?

I have a shitty apartment in a really hip neighborhood - so hip that it's on the border of the ghetto ... you know, how SoHo and SoBe and WeHo all became trendy ... borderline ghetto.
Anyway, tonight was just another typical weekend night where I buy the jug version of my favorite wine, cuddle on the sofa w/ Bella and watch a movie that tends to draw unappealing emotions. I love this apartment.

I live on the second floor, on the corner, and Bella is sure to alert me of anyone - and I mean anyone (even a car driving by) that passes my living room window.
Bella, who thinks she's a cat, loves to sit on top of the loveseat and stare out the window ... she shoves my light-canceling curtains back, thus never getting full use of them.
In short, pretty much anyone can see directly into my apartment.

Tonight, as my emotions got the best of me, I quickly caught myself and cranked my head toward the window to be sure no one saw the tears welling in my eyes. This got me thinking, although technically illegal, wouldn't you love to just have half an hour to observe that someone special in your life?
Look, you think you know them ... you've known them long enough to understand their habits and you hear them talk about what they do when they're alone. But it's got to be completely eye-opening to watch a person in their natural state, and truly learn what they're like.

I'm sure if someone had this ability to view me, they'd realize how big of a dork I am:
I mostly have no pants on, I talk to my dog like she's a baby, I fart and belch and watch TV shows I dare not mention in public.
It's odd, but after thinking about it, shouldn't I be able to do all these things in front of someone I care the most about? Yet, why don't/didn't I?

I think I've come to this realization early in life...
Who cares?
People that know me, know I'm weird.
I know this because, in many cases, the people I befriend or even guys I've dated have told me so; "You're so weird," they say.
But I enjoy hearing this because they say it as if it were refreshing.
There's no pretense w/ me. No bullshit.

Given the chance, would I still want to be seen in public w/ the guy who walks around his apartment in a witch hat, boxers, glasses and eating Kix cereal while watching Will & Grace?
You betcha.
That level of dorkiness only turns me onto that particular person more - it would allow me to see their true self.

As I looked out my open window while tears streamed down my face, I became self-aware that my current life is already a window w/0 light-canceling curtains ... and I couldn't be more comfortable.