I didn't eat

I realized a little bit ago that I totally forgot to eat today. As my blood sugar plummeted this afternoon, I began to feel shaky and light headed. I grabbed a yogurt out of the work fridge and added some of that granola crunchy stuff and finished it so fast, I had to have another.

But I'm sitting here realizing that I've been kind of stressed all day - I was supposed to meet with a friend on Wednesday. He got a new place and I was going to go check it out. He was a no-call and I didn't go. I was really annoyed about it and it kind of felt like getting stood up.

I'm supposed to have coffee or drinks with this dude I've been chatting with - I texted him two hours ago and I still have no confirmation from him - and yes, it's 5:30 PM. Kind of feels like getting stood up.

So, you see why I was in a funk. But usually when I get kind of depressive and stuff I eat like crazy. It's strange that I've been NOT eating. Seriously - strange. I'm a bit of a mess in general, I admit, but I pride myself in knowing myself really well and I really wonder if that whole losing weight issue I've had all year is finally taking root.

I wanted to watch what I eat this week and kind of take off the bloat by eating well and not eating within 3 hours of bed time - and then I was planning on hitting the gym (slowly at first, I swear!) next week when I went back to Indianapolis ... and somewhere deep inside, I am supposing, it stuck. That's all I can come up with with regards to my NOT eating.

Because, people, I'm here to tell you ... I can EAT, ok? I'll have to make sure I have a SENSIBLE dinner and not engorge myself since I'm hungry. Must pick at food - that's what I'll do. I'll get something on the way home. And later I'll have some of that leftover bean soup I made. That's what I'll do.

Ok - got a plan. Off to work it.

Yes, Rare Form.

Today I washed down my anti-depressants with a martini. I could feel the three-pill cocktail press and open my esophagus all the way down to my stomach. The martini didn’t really do much but help it get past my uvula without incident. It didn’t even seem to coat anything on the way down. And I liked it like that – invasive, threatening and slow … until they met with the bile in my stomach. The martini tasted all the more sweet when I thereafter raised the glass to my lips, if for no other reason than it wasn’t chalky, lumpy and pushing my insides to do things it really didn’t want to do. It pleased my palette and ran down my gullet eagerly, effortlessly and carefree. It’s crazy how I needed that drink after today … and that I really needed those pills after weeks of feeling off-kilter … and how they really, really didn’t need each other. It’s like one was my black wife and the other was my Puerto Rican mother – in my past life, both were there, both were necessary and the only thing deeper than the river Amazon was their hatred for each other. I’ll let you figure out who was the ineffective anti-depressant and who was the bitter-sweet alcohol.

Rare Form?

I need a new goal - and quick. When I decided to give up fucking (because we're into euphemisms here in The Refined Ghetto) I was able to concentrate on other things.

In January I quit smoking. Have I mentioned to this point that I was one big crabby bitch and a half during the first quarter of 2010? I mean, I was impossible. But it kept me focused on making sure I was being a good parent. That note from my daughter to Santa is still pinned to the cork board above my desk. I mean I was FOCUSED.

Then I decided to train for the half marathon. That was cool. And then my knee got all swollen. That wasn't so cool - but I focused on physical therapy and did all I had to do to make sure I was good. I rejoined my group at the end of the summer and kept going.

Last month, I ran the half marathon. Successfully raising $1200 for the AIDS Foundation of Chicago and crossing the finish line in celebration of that accomplishment and my having quit smoking.

Since then, I've taken it easy - and haven't even been to the gym. The result? If I don't get to fucking soon, I'm going to lose my got. damn. mind.

So, I need a new goal to focus on - and I think it's going to be calorie counting. I did that in 2005 and actually made it all the way back to my college weight - it took me 10 months of that shit. But I was FOCUSED. I may need to do that ...

... or I may just need to suck the skin off a dick.

(oh, I wonder how many calories that is ...)

Debt

When I took a job in Chicago and rented a 1BR apartment here, while still owning a house in Indianapolis, I thought I could make it work. The truth was that while it looked ok on paper, the life I would have to live if I stuck to that paper budget would look like this:





Yuh - so I pretty much lived off my credit cards for a year - and I already had balances, and before you know it I have more than I can pay back. Seriously, I came into this with impeccable credit and multiple credit cards with upwards of $20,000 limits. I'll spare you the sticker shock and not disclose exactly how much in debt I was.

I made this concerted effort to get out of debt. I did not want to file bankruptcy so I decided to pursue debt settlement. I felt better about settling the debt because it's not like I was walking away from it - hell, if the lender wanted to accept less than the amount owed and forgive the rest, then it was agreeable, lawful and moral too.

So, that's what I did - but I still had to shell out a pretty penny, took my savings down to zero, lost my credit cards and today made the last $1,700 payment on a debt that was larger than life.

Now, there is one card with an itty-bitty $2600 limit that I still use and will need to take down to zero, but it's the one that I maintained in order to have SOME semblance of credit. My once credit score of 740 or so is now more like 620 - and I need to show myself more responsible going forward.

So, although I am broke, I'm also free from that mountain of debt. Whew! I had a ham sandwich for lunch yesterday because I ran out of cheese and didn't have money to buy more - and no mayo either. Tonight, I'll have the same dinner I had last night - PB&J. I got paid today, but after that last payment and paying my rent to my roommate, I'll have $10 left. I probably won't buy cheese with that. I'll need it to get back to Indianapolis next week.

The portion of the debt that the banks forgave? That will get added to my taxes as income and I'll owe taxes on it. So, guess who is now having the job take out an extra $500 in federal taxes out of every paycheck until the end of the year?

Right - me.

So, it will be next year before I can start building a savings again - Thank god for stability in my job right now. Thank. God.

Tolerating Intolerance

That Paladino guy who is vying for the governor job in New York State said in a speech that children shouldn't be "brainwashed" into thinking that being gay is normal.

A professor at Michigan State University sent an email telling Muslim students to get out of this country.

Paladino isn't apologizing and MSU isn't requiring the professor to recant a thing. It's ok, apparently.

I've had conversations with folks about how "christian" this country really is - or isn't. I'm told it was founded on Christian principles and by Christians and that this is a Christian nation ... except, I don't see anything Christian in the actions or words of those who insist on ignoring the raping, pillaging and killing our forefathers did in order to obtain this great land from the natives. (You might know them as Native Americans). They say with their mouths that this is a Christian nation and yet say things to the contrary, letting live through them the true American spirit of using whatever brute force necessary to overpower those of lesser number and get whatever the fuck they want anyway.

Christ - the epitome of Christianity, right? - was a forgiver ... was kind to the woman at the well (who was in all likelihood a whore) ... forgave Peter who denied him three times .. etc. etc. etc. He was come to fulfill the law so that we wouldn't be bound BY the law ...

and yet still we have a Sodom and Gomorrah mentality, thinking we can rain fire and brimstone from the skies at anything we deem threatening or "immoral."

But research shows that gay couples raise well adjusted kids. Why wouldn't this "free" country embrace a population that is consistently raising well adjusted kids? Are the straights all over the south side of Chicago doing a great job raising their young?

Heterosexuality does not a good parent make.

Christianity does not a good person make.

And I'm tired of the hypocrisy already. Just tired.

That married guy ...

I was in my college roommate's wedding as an usher. I looked pretty cute in that tux, if I do say so myself. That was in the late 90s. It was something I probably should not have done, I can admit in retrospect. It really was awkward standing up for that marriage, vowing before God and everyone that I would do everything possible to keep it together ... but I decided that part of keeping that vow was NOT telling her that I had slept with him while they were dating.

They're divorced now. (You're shocked - I know)

After that experience, however, I made a vow of my own without the aid of a tux, a church and a priest ... I vowed never, ever to sleep with a straight guy again. I mean, people ... it was fucking AWFUL. Just plan ole bad sex. It was so bad that I actually told him ... "man, you really ARE straight."

That did wonders for his ego ... because, people, really - he was just experimenting. Believe me. He was REALLY *just* experimenting. I know some people have a hard time believing that a guy could mess with another guy and not be one drop gay, but this dude was seriously just trying to exhaust every possible anything.

We had gone out drinking the night before. It was my ninth semester (out of eight!) and my last. (that's a totally different story - shh. Later.) And I had wanted this man in bed for several years. But we were friends and it was college and we just drank and acted like retards. That night, we were draggin our asses back from the bars and my dorm was closest and on the way to his. There was an enormous hill (There had to be a 25-30 foot change in elevation from bottom to top) between my place and his and to make a long story short ... we crashed at my place, both passed out on my full size futon.

The light of the next morning was poking at my eyelids while I slept and I tried desperately not to notice the red behind my eyelids. I felt myself taking deep, steady breaths trying to stay relaxed so that I could fall back asleep but a strange sensation came over me. I don't know how to explain it - through the dry hangover I felt watched. So, I opened my eyes and there he was, awake and staring at my face while I slept. I smiled, turned around and reached back to pull his arm around me. And then I went back to sleep. He didn't stop me, and he didn't pull away.

Later that day, we ended up back at my place - night had come. Conversation got interesting and we beat around the bush talking about what gay sex was like. I'd had it - he hadn't. Eventually, I told him I could kiss him and show him. He didn't say no. I approached him and placed one hand on each arm of the chair and leaned into his face. "Can you handle it?"

"Yeah," he said.

I licked my lips, drawing closer. "I'm serious, man."

Nothing.

Then I traced his lips with my tongue.

He kept his eyes closed as I looked to see his expression when I was done. He was steadying his breathing.

Then, I kissed him - full on. And he kissed back. And our tongues rolled together until I had to stop to get his shirt over his head. Eventually, he was completely disrobed.

He laughed quietly and became a bit shy. "I'm naked in front of you in your room," he said.

"That's the the problem. The problem is ... I'm *not*"

He took my clothes off in the clumsiest of fashions and I wished I would've just done it myself. He was better endowed than my ex ... the one man I had had sex with to that point, and I wasn't sure I could deal with all of that. But I took him into my mouth anyway ...

He had told me that he was frustrated with his wife because she couldn't get his whole dick in her mouth. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to either. I think I was about half an inch shy of doing so ... but I tried.

And that's pretty much how everything went. I tried to do everything his wife couldn't ... and he would do a fucking thing. As a passive participant, I think he felt it made him not necessarily gay. He continued to be clumsy, say things in the least sexy way possible and had an overall detached experience with me ... and it showed. For two years I wanted this experience ... but I wanted him to want to be there with me. And, he really didn't want to be ... he just felt safe with me - safe enough to experiment and not have anyone know. And I'm good for it - I didn't tell.

It was all just a big waste of my time. I didn't really enjoy myself at all. AT ALL. And, you know what ... I really don't think he did either. It all just got awkward. Mechanically, that is - his movements weren't fluid, he wasn't really into it and he just wanted me to make it all happen. And I wasn't nearly experienced enough to be all that right then.

We're friends to this day - he's the biggest whore I know. He's hot as hell and the women just love him ... and he does love himself some pussy. He gets laid more than anyone I know. And I've heard about lots and lots and LOTS of his conquests over the years and since his divorce. And once he send me a pic of his then girlfriend's tits ... holy fuck they were huge!

People - for real. He's straight. And I won't ever sleep with a straight dude again.