Recently in Introspection Category

After watching other people do likewise, I decided to take some time this month to set out my goals for this coming year. I realize I'm a bit late, considering we're already three days into the new year, but I figure it's better to be late than to never do it at all. Besides, I did some of my goal setting at Yule, so in some respects, I was ahead of the game.

1. Lead more rituals.

This is actually a goal that was set for me. The Yule ritual last month was just the beginning. I have agreed (not quite at knifepoint) to plan the rituals for the two equinoxes and two solstices in 2008. To be honest, I need the experience, and it's just time for me to continue.

2. Share what I know and what I've learned.

This goal is a bit vague because I'm not sure how it's going to play out right yet. All I know is that I need to start sharing with others what I've learned over the past few years, even as my own learning process continues. This may mean some classes and/or workshops in the local community. Or it may mean signing up to lead a workshop at the Naturist Festival this August (as I'm pretty sure I'll be going again). But at any rate, it's time for me to start contributing in this arena.

3. Continue to become more social.

This one isn't so much a new goal as a continuation of a theme from last year. I've gotten out to meet more people, and I've even learned to do a better job of stepping out socially rather than hoping people will seek me out or otherwise find me. I simply need to continue this trend and improve on the progress I've already made.

4. Continue the exercise trend.

Last summer saw me walking regularly. When the weather warms back up, I'm going to be right back out there. In the meantime, I'm also going to try to keep some level of exercise going on, though probably not to the same degree. But I figure if I can make it over to the fitness center for an hour or two every week, that should hold me over until the summer returns.

I'm simply decided that my real form of exercise is and will remain walking. Nothing works as well for me. New Year's Day, I walked down to the 7-11 and back, which is about a mile in each direction. Despite the snow and cold air, I loved it. Riding a stationary bike is exercise and work. Going for a nice walk is pure joy.

On the bright side, the time I'm spending at the fitness center appears to be enough to maintain the reduced waist size I reached towards the end of last year.

Yesterday, I decided to run to Friendly's for lunch. The place was relatively empty, and I think there were only two servers working. Stef met me at the door and seated me. She asked me if I wanted a diet coke (a sign I go there way too often), to which I assented. As she headed back to the kitchen, the other server, a young man named Kyle, walked by and said he'd be right with me. Apparently, Stef had planned on waiting on me herself, so they had a brief conversation in the kitchen to decide who would actually take my table. (I love it when servers fight over me.)

Apparently, they eventually agreed that Kyle would be my server, because he walked over with my diet coke, introduced himself, and asked me if I was ready to order. I placed my order only to have him give me the perfect opportunity to tease him a little. After I ordered my food, he asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I laughed, glanced at the table, then looked back to him to politely ask, "You mean besides the diet coke you just brought me." He laughed in flustered embarrassment (I consider the fact that he didn't turn beet red nothing short of miraculous) and explained he was used to doing things in a certain order. I just smile and said I understood.

While we had been talking, I noticed a chain around his neck, so I looked closely at the two pendants hanging off it. This is a new habit I'm working on developing, as I'm realizing just how much a person's choice of jewelry or body art can offer an opportunity for conversation. I noted the crucifix (which, when combined with my estimate of his age, gave me enough reason to decide to keep things to a bit of fun chat and maybe some slight flirtation) as well as a large "55." So when he stopped by later to check on me, I inquired. As it turns out, he's a football player and that's his number. (Of course, we won't go into the thoughts of being tackled that suddenly came to mind.) He mentioned that it had been his number in both high school and now college. (Of course, I was relieved to confirm that he was at least in college. I'm much more comfortable with feeling slightly lecherous rather than downright criminal.)

When it came time for ice cream, I ordered the recently re-released the peanut butterpan sundae, so I ordered that. Kyle commented that he never tried that one. I said I had it last time they offered it and loved it. I mentioned in passing that it had peanut butter in it, so that meant I'd naturally love it. So the sneak decided to demonstrate just how good a server he was by making the sundae with extra peanut butter. Needless to say, someone got a very good tip (even moreso than usual).

I have to admit, I enjoyed the meal, and I had fun chatting up my waiter just a bit. Sure, he's too young for me (I think I'm through with college students), and the religion thing would be an issue. (After all, he's not goth, so I'm pretty sure he wasn't wearing a crucifix just for the "cool factor.") But sometimes, it's just fun to be able to chat and have a little harmless fun with someone. And besides, I think it was good practice for me. I really could use more practice being chatty and flirty, as it's something I struggle with (especially if I actually find the person I'm chatting with attractive). So this was a great activity. And either Kyle didn't notice or didn't exactly mind, so it worked out well.

And I do like that I'm learning to be more attentive to picking out little things to comment on. It should really help me with starting conversations in the future.

Thanksgiving Day, I had a bit of a personal experience. After I had gotten to my parents' home and was seated in the dining room chatting with them, I began to look around the room. On the one stand next to the interior wall, I spotted an old picture of me. If my mother is right (I mentioned it to her later), it was the casual picture I had taken when I had my senior pictures taken in high school.

When I first saw the picture, I did a double take. "That was me?! Damn, I was cute back then!" In fact, I was so taken by the picture that I almost had trouble believing it really was me. I looked rather different back then. It was before my hairline had really started to recede and before I put on an extra 70+ pounds. This realization was somewhat depressing, and for a moment, I even mourned the fact that I was no longer that young man in the picture.

What's more, I mourned that I never realized how good looking I really was back then. I never considered myself ugly (and never have), but I did consider myself pretty plain. Part of that was because the school nurse kept harping on the fact that I was "slightly overweight" every year. Add that to the fact that none of the girls in school really seemed all that interested in me (nor the boys, but I wouldn't have been ready to pursue that possibility anyway), and it just never occurred to me how great I looked. Of course, that made the realization rather sweet now, even if I did wish I would've taken better advantage of my looks back then.

But then Miss Thing (Have I mentioned that I love having a patron goddess who let's me get away with calling her names like "Miss Thing"?) began pointing out to me that I'm still very good looking. Despite the decrease in hair and the increase in weight. And besides, I'm slowly, very slowly, doing something about that latter part. It is entirely likely that in three or four years, I could be that "slightly overweight" (in which case I will party) guy in the picture again, just at twice the age. But it's going to take time, patience, and a lot of self love. After all, if I try to rush things, I'll only get frustrated and sabotage my own efforts. And besides, I need to accept I already look great so that it becomes a matter of improving on an already great thing rather than some struggle against myself.

So I will continue to do my exercising (which I admit I've been bad about for the past couple weeks). I'll get back to eating healthier. And I'll continue to do so because I enjoy it (I'm already pining for longer days and warmer weather again so I can return to my walking). But at least now, I do it with a glimmer of hope that despite not being my primary goal, there's proof that I could really enjoy the fringe benefits in the long run, too.

Erin and I started a great comment conversation on my previous post regarding "unplugging." We both agreed that neither of us are ready to "unplug" (at least not completely). After all, how would I get my blogging fix? Though I do think that disentangling oneself from the fast-paced electronic and telecommunications world for short periods of time is good. When I've done it, I've found it gives me time to recharge and relax. After all, far too often, I begin to realize that my planned time relaxing at the computer isn't as relaxing as I thought. But then, I think many things we do to "relax" often prove not to be very relaxing, i we were to look at things more honestly. So when my computer time becomes more of a strain than a joy, I take it as time to leave my computer turned off and find more rejuvenating activities.

But personally, I think that this is an example of a much bigger problem. In general, I think we as people tend to fill our lives with a lot of clutter when it comes to our schedule. We fill as much activity (and sadly, I'm including the time spent in front of the television with this) in our daily lives as we can, far too much, if you ask me. And then we complain when we feel drained and exhausted at the end of each day. This is not reasonable behavior, so why do we do it?

Personally, I think we're driven by the quest for something, most likely satisfaction. If we can just fit that one more activity into our lives like we've been thinking about, maybe we'll feel like we have a full and complete life. Maybe we'll feel like we've accomplished something then. Maybe we'll finally find what we've been yearning for. (Of course, I also think that a desire to avoid ourselves on some levels is a major contributor. But that's probably best saved for another post someday.)

The problem is, this is the classic case of confusing quantity for quality. Much of these activities in our lives ultimately hold no meaning on a deeper level, I think. They entertain us. They keep us busy. They give us a superficial satisfaction that we're out doing something. (And as a former recluse, I can certainly appreciate the allure of that feeling.) But they don't really effect us on a deeper level. In the end, they don't satisfy.

I think it's important to occasionally look at our daily lives and the activity we fill it with and look for the clutter. It's important to notice the activities that aren't necessarily serving the purpose we thought they would and honestly re-evaluate whether they are worth our time, time that could be spent on much more fulfilling pursuits (like the rediscovery of self). It's time to slow down and look for quality activity in our lives rather than the fast-paced race that leaves us exhausted and never quite as satisfied as we had hoped.

Last night, I met the guys at The Distillery (their new Winton Road location) for our usual Monday night dinner. None of us had been there before, so it was a new experience. I found it a delightful place and look forward to going back again sometime. Perhaps I'll take my father there the next time he spends the night with me.

As is our tendency during the summer, we ate outdoors, enjoying the warm weather and beautiful sky. As we were getting ready to leave, I sat there looking at the sunset and decided I wanted to go for a walk.

It's not unusual for me to go for a walk after having dinner with the guys. In fact, it's become something of a tradition in my mind over the last month. As we usually eat somewhere on Park Avenue, I usually leave directly from the restaurant and walk the circuit made by Park, Alexander, East, and Berkeley. It makes for a nice forty-five minute walk.

However, I had originally planned on skipping that part of my Monday night routine last night. I figured that with my seven mile canal walk Sunday morning, there was no need to get more exercise the next night, so I planned on giving my legs a break. But as I sat watching that sunset and enjoying the moderate temperatures of the evening, I realized that I didn't want to give my legs the break. I wanted to complete my Monday night routine like I normally would.

This exemplifies a radical difference between my walking habits recently and past attempts to exercise more. This excites me because it's a difference that I think may help me actually stick with the practice this time around, as opposed to other times when I tapered off.

Over the past seven years, every other time I've tried to get more exercise (usually through walking, though I did try making use of my apartment complex's exercise room for a few weeks last year, as well), I've done it out of a sense of obligation. I've told myself that I need to exercise, and often found myself practically forcing myself to do it. My heart just wasn't in it.

This time around, I've found that I'm walking because I want to. In fact, for the first few weeks I started walking after dinner on Monday night, I refused to allow myself to think of it as another attempt to start exercising. I made the conscious choice to undergo the walk for the simple fact that I enjoy it. And the result is that even now that I'm starting to think in terms of exercise, it's still a matter of desire rather than a sense of necessity or obligation. So I suppose it's perfectly reasonable that even though I didn't need to take my usual Monday night walk last night, that part of me that enjoys the routine would still want to do it anyway.

I've noticed a similar mentality with the canal walk. I found myself getting quite frustrated when trying to plan that trip for the last two months. However, my frustration was centered around finding a day that (1) I had free and could do it and (2) there was someone who could pick me up at the other end. My frustration wasn't in trying to meet an obligation I was ambivalent about, but in trying to make the arrangements necessary to do something I love doing with all the restrictions created by everyone's hectic summer schedules.

And as a further result, I'm looking for another day during the week that I can schedule regular walks. I've decided that a walk on the weekend and another one on Monday nights just isn't enough for me. So I'm looking at working another walk into my routine on Thursday evenings.

I'm not sure how well that will work. I'm a bit nervous that I'm pushing my luck. But I figure that I'll give it a shost. Besides, if I find it's not working or (worse) that it's actually affecting how I generally feel about my walking negatively, I'll drop the idea for a while. But I think an honest and careful attempt at stretching my enjoyment is worthwhile.

Of course, I think there are other factors that are contributing to my success this time around. Another big factor is my choice of venues. I have a number of different routes I can take, all of which I enjoy for various reasons. This helps keep the overall experience a positive and interesting one. Then there's the fact that I've found a way to work the walks into my schedule in natural and positive ways. The best example of that is the Monday evening walks after dinner. On those nights, I've already enjoyed a good meal and pleasant conversation. In some ways, going for a pleasant stroll is a way to keep the evening going. After all, it beats just going home and watching television or playing on the computer by myself.

Last night, I had avery strange dreams. It bothered me in some ways, so I thought I'd write about it here.

The dream was about Mike. Somehow, he had found me and took me to dinner someplace so we could talk. He wanted the two of us to get back together. In fact, he was quite emphatic and persistent about it. And in the dream, a part of me really wanted to say yes. But another part of me was quite unenthusiastic about the idea. In fact, that part of me was downright cold to the idea.

And there were good reasons for that emotional reaction, don't get me wrong. While Mike was being quite clear that he wanted us to get back together, he steered clear of discussing any of the reasons I broke up with him in the first place. And I was having problem with that, because it was pretty clear to me that none of the obstacles (most of them imposed by Mike himself) that caused me to walk away had been resolved, nor were they going to be. So the dispassionate part of me kept running through the list:

"That's nice, but your family commitments and the fact that you don't want to tell them you like guys is still going to keep us apart most of the time."

"That's nice, but you're still not ready to move in together and may never be ready for that, given the way things are going."

"That's nice, but I still don't foresee the romantic or physical side of our relationship growing."

In short, he was offering me a return to the status quo I no longer wanted to live with back in 2005. I certainly don't want to go back to living with it two years later!

I woke up before the discussion ended or I gave him an answer. I was rather troubled by the whole thing. Primarily, I was troubled by the fact that I was dreaming about him again two years after I broke up with him. I was troubled by that part of me in the dream that really did want to get back together with him. That's mainly because I'm trourlbe by the idea that such a part of me probably still exists in the waking world. I want to move forward with my life. I want to look for that better, more fulfilling, and healthier relationship that most of me (the part that was cold and rational in the dream) knows I deserve. And I don't want some part of me that still occasionally thinks longlingly of the one(s) that didn't work out to get in the way of future possibilities.

And that's why it probably particularly bothered me that I didn't give him an answer before I woke up. Specifically, it bothers me that I didn't just come right out and tell him that I'm still not interested in what he's still offering me. Because that just makes it feel all the more like that small part of me is still holding me back.

Char decided to have a sidewalk sale¹ outside of Psychic's Thyme today. I ended up spending the first half of my time there sitting outside and helping keep an eye on the merchandise. I would've helped with customers, but all but two or three of them ended up paying inside the store because they wanted to see what was for sale there, too. It was a fun time, however. And I got lots of sun and fresh air.

I also realized something about myself. I like being outdoors. I like the idea of getting a tan. This is totally bizarre, because it's something I completely disliked while growing up. My sister would often go outdoors in the afternoon during summer vacation and spend a couple of hours lying in the old lounge chair my parents owned. I thought she was nuts and found the idea of just lying out in the sun insane.

Of course, it was probably the act of lying around that struck me as inside as the fact that such immobility was being enacted out doors. I was a rather hyper kid, even through my teenage years. Unless I was reading (and even that required frequent breaks unless it was a book I absolutely loved) or on the computer, I had to be on the move. No grass could grow under my feet and no moss would ever get the chance to grow on me.

Yet, as I get older I'm finding myself more inclined to be less active. This is especially true if I'm doing it someplace where I get sunlight and fresh air. So I suspect I'll be looking at my weekly schedule to figure out when and where I can pencil in some more outdoor tanning time. And I figure it'll be napping time, too. But that's okay.

¹ No actual sidewalks were sold at this sale. Isn't that strange? I mean, you sell books at a book sale, right?

As regular readers of my blog may know, I'm a huge fan of Seething Mom. So when she wrote a glowing review of the writings of Misty Sayoko Irons, I had to check it out for myself.

Particularly, I was curious to discover what caused Misty to start a site about homosexuality and the Bible. I suppose one might wonder why I'd look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth like that. After all, we queers can use all the pro-gay supporters we can find. However, I have to admit that I'm a naturally curious person when it comes to people's backstories. Understanding how one's past affect's one's present day choices is always someting that fascinates me. So I began looking for Ms. Irons's story. I had just about given up and was getting ready to find a polite and friendly way to email her an inquiry when I finally noticed what I was looking for two thirds of the way down the navigation bar on her site. So I clicked on the link and read about her experiences with two neighbors, Gregg and Joel.

Let me just say that it is well worth the search, as her experiences with these two men and the painful self-realizations that those experiences caused her were touching. Indeed, I'd encourage anyone who reads the story (and I highly encourage everyone to do so) to make sure they have some tissues on hand.

What truly touches me about Ms. Irons's story is the raw honesty of it. She unabashedly admits how little she knew about gay issues at the time, as well as how badly she misjudged the lives and personal choices of Gregg and Joel at the time. She doesn't even try to rationalize these things or makes excuses for them. Indeed, by the end of the tale, I felt as though she was entirely being too hard on herself.

However, more important, this story and the rest of the site also tells of the kind of woman the author really is. This is a woman who is not only willing to admit when she's been wrong, but she's willing to do something about it. This is a woman who not only acknowledges her preconceived notions, but actively makes an effort to correct them when necessary. And for that, I applaud her. And for that, I'm thankful that I can consider her a supporter.

Of course, I also find myself admitting that she makes an excellent role model as well as a supporter. After all, evangelical Christians and straight people aren't the only ones who have their preconceived notions. After all, I know more than one gay person (and I've been guilty of it myself) or supporter who has come to prejudge all evangelical Christians. When we meet one, we tend to expect certain reactions out of them and even mentally prepare ourselves for our own "stock responses" to them even before they actually happen. I even remember some of my evangelical friends from my past -- people I had known for years -- rightfully calling me on making assumptions about how they would treat me. And these weren't people who I just met. These are true friends, people I should've known better than to make such assumptions about.

Now certainly, I can make excuses for myself as well as the rest of us. Certainly, I can argue that we've had plenty of bad experiences with evangelical Christians. I can rationalize that because of this, it's perfectly natural for us to assume much the same treatment in similar situations. And there's a certain logic to that which is undeniable. But that doesn't make it any more right. So to Ms. Irons, I say thank you for setting the example. You made no excuses, and I will endeavor to follow in your footsteps.

Ms. Irons also has a blog, which I will be sure to add to both my blogroll and my news aggregator.

While driving to Applebee's tonight, Aerosmith's song, I Don't Want to Miss a Thing, came on the radio. There are many songs that are deeply connected to memories of people and events in my life, and this is one such song. In fact, it's probably one of the most strongly connected songs I can think of.

Tonight, this song took me back to my relationship with my first boyfriend. At the time Chris (not his real name) and I were dating, this song was relatively new and seeing a lot of airtime across the nation. And every time I heard it, I became more deeply convinced that it was the perfect song to describe how I felt about our relationship. In fact, I think I pointed this out to Chris at the time.

Thinking about the relationship now, I can still understand why I felt this way. Chris and I seldom saw each other (we probably spent barely over a week total together throughout the six months we were "involved"), and it was perfectly reasonable for me to want to make as much of that precious rare time as I could. On more than one occasion, I ended up taking a sick or personal day off work just so I could have those eight more hours with him.

Of course, there were other reasons for feeling like this, too. The relationship wasn't healthy, and I knew it. And that made me want to cling to it even tighter, holding it together out of my own desparation. Aerosmith's song spoke to me powerfully and romantically about that desparation I was feeling. In many ways, I used that song to validate my sense of desperation.

As I listened to that song this evening and allowed these memories and thoughts to play through my mind, I began to ask myself many questions. The first question was whether there was any pain associated with this song or the memories that it evoked. There wasn't, and I have to admit that I'm a little surprised by that. Certainly, there's a certain morose feel to the whole thing as I think of mistakes made and lessons learned. And there's the memory of the pain that used to be there. There's the knowledge that years ago, hearing this song would've driven me to tears almost instantly. But not this evening. This evening, there was merely a sense of familiarity and a knowledge of what has passed. And while I find it somewhat strange, I also find it rather comforting.

Of course, I also asked myself how I felt about the message of the song today. If I were with someone, would this song still reflect how I would feel about a new relationship? And I think that for the most part, I can say that it doesn't. Because now, my love relationships aren't about desperation, they're about something else.

The underlying premise of the song is about a relationship that would consume my whole life, an that's not what I'm lookin fo at all. Certainly, I want a lover I can share my life with, and I'd prefer to spend the rest of my life with him. And there are certainly those moments I will want to get lost in, but only for a time. Because there are other things in my life that are equally important. And I do not wish to give up those things completely just so I can make sure I "don't miss a thing" with my lover. That just isn't healthy.

It's strange to think of the thought processes a song can initiate. Of course, I also find it interesting that this all started on the same day that I had a dream about Chris (sadly, I don't remember any details) while napping.

Last night was another COAP game night. It was a fun time, despite the relatively low turn-out. There are actually a number of things I could write about based on last night's events. However, for now, I'm choosing to focus on something that came up during a discussion between Woody and Mark during the "meeting" portion of the night.

Woody and Mark have been involved in COAP for long periods of time, so they got reminiscing. At one point, Woody started talking about his history with COAP and his pattern of disappearing and coming back. One of the things that he pointed out was that often, his disappearances occurred at the same time he started seeing someone, while he came back after the relationship ended. Mark commented that this is common, and even joked that it's the "gay lifestyle."

At this turn of the conversation, a couple of thoughts entered my mind. The first one was a sense of relief that I'm not the only one prone to this kind of behavior. Indeed, one of the things that I realized when I started coming to COAP events was that I'd have to fight the urge to drop out when I eventually get into a relationship. So it was nice to know that other people have those same tendencies.

But then, I had to ask the question. Why is that? Why is part of the "gay lifestyle" to drop off the social circle when you meet that special someone. Is it because we see the social circle as nothing more than a marketplace for picking up our next lover? That's certainly a frightening thought in itself!

Of course, I should note that I don't think this is strictly a gay thing. I've noticed that a good number of heterosexual couples tend to lose track of their friends over time, too. After all, my parents don't get out nearly as much as they used to (though my father does socialize more through their church than my mother does). Often, they're content to do their work, meet a few communal obligations, then head home.

But it seems to me from my observations that it happens much more quickly and suddenly amongst gay people (especially men). While heterosexual couples may become more insular and reclusive over time, it seems like we do it at the earliest opportunity. Which I don't think is healthy, for reasons I covered before. So why do we do it?

Personally, I think it's in part because we're often afraid of finding true love that we've become obssessed with it to the exclusion of everything else. So when we're with someone, all of our attention turns towards building and maintaining that relationship. After all, we're not sure when the next one is coming along (and with only a small percentage of the population to work with, finding eligible, desirable lovers can seem like a daunting task), so we want to do everything we can to make it work. So we allow other friendships and our other activities to come along. Add to this the fact that the early stages of any relationship can be quite intoxicating and addicting, and it becomes an understandable pattern.

But realizing this doesn't make continuing the pattern a good idea. In some ways, I think it demonstrates why we -- both individually and collectively -- need to break this pattern.

I have to admit that I have a strange relationship with money. I'm not going to sit here and try to tell anyone -- or even myself -- that I don't like having money. If my boss was to stop by my desk tomorrow and ask me if I'd like a raise, I'm not going to say no. After all, I like being able to spend money on various things.

However, I don't feel like a slave to money, either. I do understand that ultimately, the only money I really need is the money to buy the necessities for staying alive. Anything after that is gravy. And I love my gravy.

However, I've also realized that how I spend my excess money is extremely important to me. I'm not the kind to become obsessed with buying the latest gadget or must have thing. Nor am I obssessed with keeping up with the latest fashion (not that men's fashions change nearly as drastically as women's fashions, anyway). That's not my style at all.

Granted, I like to shop for quality when I do buy things. So when I go out shopping for new work clothes, I'm as liable to hit something a bit more expensive than Wal-Mart or even Target. (Besids, those stores often stop carrying clothes at one size below what I need, or only carry clothes my size that are horribly tacky.) And when I bought a laptop a couple months ago, I spent the extra money to get one I'd really like.

But at the same time, I don't care to buy a lot of "stuff" just to have "stuff." For example, a couple of years ago, I began to re-evaluate my attitude towards computer games. At the time, I was buying a new computer game every other week. I'd play each game I bought for about two weeks (often never mastering them or beating them if they had a quest mode of play), then get bored with it and never touched it again. As I noticed this pattern, I really asked if the time I spent playing each game was really worth the $40 a title I was paying. I decided that it wasn't, so I've changed my game buying habits. I still buy the occasional computer game (and still often play them for a couple of weeks), but it's something I only do every couple months or so. I found it hasn't detracted from my life at all, and I've certainly found more enjoyable uses for the money I'm saving.

On the other hand, I think one of the best spenditures of money I've ever made was back when my niece, Alyssa, was two years old. Disney had re-released "The Little Mermaid" just before Christmas, so there was a merchandizing craze going on at the time. During my Christmas shopping, I had found a four foot long stuffed Flounder (the character from the movie, not a real flounder). I decided to buy it for Alyssa for Christmas.

Christmas Eve, my sister and her family had dinner with my parents and I at my parents' home (I was living at home at the time). My sister decided to let Alyssa open one gift that evening after dinner. Because of an incident that had happened when my sister and her family were heading up from New Jersey, we all agreed she should unwrap Flounder.

I cannot begin to do justice to the experience of watching Alyssa open her gift. When she finally got the wrapping paper off and looked into the eyes of a Flounder almost as big as she was, she let out a shrill screech. The next five minutes, all this little girl could do was hug her new friend tight and screech, "He's so cute!" It was a beautiful sight, and I can't think of a time where I got so much joy out of $40 I had spent.

In many ways, money is more about making my life comfortable. It's about creating moments like that, where I get to add to and share in other people's pleasure. Whether I'm buying presents for my nieces and nephews, treating my friends to a meal, or giving an overworked and underpaid server an outrageously generous tip, I enjoy seeing the smiles it can bring to people's faces.

Money can't buy happiness, but it can certainly be used to create situations that encourage happiness.

When I moved to the suburbs of Rochester almost two years ago, it was with some concern. I had lived in rural Pennsylvania all my life prior to the move. There were things that I knew I was going to miss. For example, I was going to miss the rare evening when I would look out the dining room window and see a black bear wandering through the yard, looking for food. I'd miss the twice daily trek of wild turkeys through the backyard during the winter as they came for the corn my father put out for them. One of the beautiful things about my life back home is that it was a nice area, surrounded with the beauty of nature.

But I gave that up, knowing I needed some changes in my life. I knew that I needed to get out where I could meet more like-minded people. I needed to find an area where I had more socialization options than going to church or going to the bar, neither of which appealed to me all that much. So I gave up my nice comfortable life in the middle of nowhere and moved to suburbia in an overgrown town along Lake Ontario. And almost two years later, I'm happy to admit that it was quite possibly one of the best decisions of my life.

I've come to like the fact that I live in an area where everything I want is within a five block radius of my home. I love the fact that if I decide I want to go out for a bit and do some reading or writing while surrounded by others, I have five or six different coffee houses to choose from. (And that's not including the Great Abomination, Starbucks.) I like the fact that there's a significant number of gay people and Pagans (and not to mention gay Pagans) that there are clubs and organizations set up for everyone to get together and socialize.

And yet, I've also discovered that while I may no longer have a black bear traipse through my yard, I can still find the beauty of nature here in this busy city. Rochester has no shortage of parks, and all of them are quite beautiful. My favorite one right now is Genesee Valley Park. Just yesterday, I was there and had two mallard ducks waddle past me, not six feet from where I stood. It was an incredible experience, and I even had to call a friend just to tell someone about it.

I've grown to truly love this area. In fact, I'm coming to think of it as home, which is not something I expected to happen when I originally moved here.

Tonight, I held the first weekly meditation at Genesee Valley Park. After doing it, I realized that we should've moved these meditations outside last summer, too. It added a certain pleasantness to the whole experience. It certainly helped that I added the actual sensations of the outdoors to the imagery I was using.

And of course, the fresh air was good for me. I've been getting a lot of that with all of these trips to the park. I've made it one of my goals to get there at least twice a week, and spend at least an hour and a half each week walking there. I figure that this will not only give me a chance to rejuvenate my body with clean air, but it'll also get my blood pumping and release a few endorphins in the process.

After meditation, I went to dinner at Red Robin. When I got out of the restaurant, it was almost dark out, with just a few minutes left of dusk. Part of me didn't want to come home. Part of me wanted to find someplace to go and enjoy more of the great outdoors. If I knew of someplace I could go where I would've felt completely safe, I would've done exactly that, too.

When I came out of the restaurant and had these moods, I found myself thinking about the many nights that I and various friends would walk down to the Susquehanna River and spend some time walking along the riverbank. We'd spend a great deal of time talking and just enjoying the experience. The memory made me realize just how much I miss that sort of thing.

There's something about walking with a good friend or two after dark, speaking in semi-soft tones as you stroll along. It's a setting that allows you to share deep, intimate thoughts and even be a bit more vulnerable. In fact, it doesn't just allow it, it practically encourages it. And I could see myself doing that here along the canal if only someone like James or Tim was here.

Who knows, perhaps I will eventually find someone here I can share that kind of experience with.

While chatting to me online last night, my friend, Panda, commented to me that she barely recognized the shy, introverted, inscure boy she first befriended about a decade ago. And she's absolutely right. I'm hardly that person I was back when she and I met and she helped me make it through some of the most emotionally trying times of my life. I'm not sure I could point to an exact time when I transformed into the self-confident, flirtatious, and occasionally intimidating guy that I am today. To be honest, I think it was a process and there's no single "flash point" I could point to anyway. It just progressed as time went on.

In many ways, I think I was always the person I am today, even back then. I just didn't fully realize it. But as I've walked that path and allowed myself to discover my inner strengths and source of confidence, I've become more and more myself. I've found a comfort with myself that, if I take the time to really think about, I never really knew before. And that's fantastic.

Of course, as I think about it, I also think of some of those qualities I always have had -- and even exhibited back before I punched through my shell and exploded into the world -- and I hope that they are still equally visible. For example, I don't want the fact that I'm now quite friendly, outgoing, flirtatious, and willing to actually say a number of things to ever negate the fact that I'm a good listener and able to give people a shoulder to cry on.

Oh, I know I'll never lose those qualities. They're as much a part of me as these new aspects of my personality are. They always will be. But I hope that they continue to remain visible rather than getting obscured by my ability and desire to be more outgoing and forthright.

In reality, I think that won't be a problem in the long run. Right now, I'm exploring something new in my life and a new dimension of my being. I suppose that to some degree, it's only appropriate that it get a little extra focus and even be a bit emphasized. But my fondest desire is to eventually find a way to integrate it all so that it feels and looks like a complete whole rather than fractionalized and somewhat conflicting pieces trying to coexist. After all, I want to be a complete whole, and all of these things are what make the whole of me.

Today, I got looking through old diary entries from the time when I moved up here to Rochester. As I read through them, it amazed me to notice how things have progressed since then. Things simply didn't work out the way I expected them to. But that's okay, because I like the way things turned out better than I would've had they gone the way I'd originally planned.

I think one of the things that truly amuses me is the fact that I mentioned in two separate entries how close the mall was to my townhouse. I was quite excited about that fact when I moved in. That's understandable, as the closest mall to me back when I lived with my parents was more than thirty minutes away by car.

Today, I rarely go to the mall. (And when I do, I will often make the trip out to the Eastview Mall instead.) In reality, I'm just not a big shopper, and I realized that hanging out at the mall and people watching (one of my original goals) just wasn't my style. I'd much rather interact with people rather than watch them. So now, I'm finding myself preferring the coffee shops and other venues where conversation is more likely to pop up.

Of course, I still like that all the other stores that cropped up around the mall are still there. Being ten minutes from Best Buy, Borders, Target, and Wal-Mart is still a plus. But those are conveniences, whereas the closeness of a mall was a novelty that quickly wore off.

Shortly after I moved, I also started making plans to volunteer at Lollypop Farms. I've officially given that up. I quit going regularly back before Christmas and just decided that while I enjoyed working with the cats and chatting with the staff and volunteers as we worked side by side, I'd rather sleep in after doing things on Saturday nights. And any other shift would similarly interfere with other activities I've gotten into since coming to the area.

I also tried three classes through the Rush-Henrietta school district's continuing education program the first nine months I was here. I enjoyed every last one of them, but they weren't quite what I expected. I had joined to meet people, and I did exactly that. But I also found that most of them were older people. As I was and am trying to meet people in my own age bracket, I decided to give that a halt.

However, I will note that I'm toying with the idea of teaching a class. The blogging class I took through them was discontinued after the first quarter they tried it. This was because the instructor for the class took a new job and was no longer able to teach the class. I've considered talking to the continuing education office about teaching my own class of that sort. But I haven't committed yet.

While I didn't mention it in any of the diary entries back then, I would also note that I had originally checked out COAP. Back then, I decided not to join. Most of the events they described at the time were outings and trips, and I just couldn't see myself getting involved when I didn't know anyone. And yet, now, I'm becoming an increasingly active member in COAP. I've attended the last three game nights, and I'm off to a dinner this evening and eagerly anticipating the increased number activities that Woody says tend to start in the summer.

Learning about game night from Rob contributed greatly to my decision to reconsider my position on COAP. I wasn't prepared to go to Toronto with a bunch of strangers. But I could definitely see myself sitting around playing board games (actually, we have yet to play one) and card games with them. It was a setting that I could be relatively comfortable in, and it's proved quite rewarding.

But I also think it was a matter of me just not being ready until this past February. As I look back over the past twenty months, I realize that I've gone through a lot of growth and healing which have greatly boosted my self-confidence. This in turn has helped me learn to be more open to and even desire increased socialization. And I was able to see how much I needed it. So things changed, and now I'm ready to take those extra steps that I was only ready to talk about back when I moved here. In some ways, I guess you could say that moving here began a transitional period in my life that is only now drawing to a close. And as it does, I'm finding myself with a stronger foundation to reap the benefits of those changes.