Category Archives: Personal Development

Things are different this time

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.

Another Fantastic Canal Trek

Canal Path

Today was the day for my monthly seven mile walk along the Erie Canal. This time, I didn’t let the rain scare me out of taking my camera, so I managed to get pictures. This was just as well, since it didn’t rain anyway. I seem to always luck out in that regards. The picture in this entry is of the path shortly after I started my walk. The rest of the pictures can be found in the album I created just for this walk.

The weather was a bit cool, as the temperature stayed in the high sixties and low seventies. In reality, this was perfect considering all the heat I was generating by walking. I didn’t get overworked as much, nor did I sweat quite as much. I did note, however, that I made the trip in fifteen to twenty minutes less time than I made it in June and July. On the one hand, this is good, as it indicates that I’m getting more used to making the trip and have even stepped up my pace a bit. On the other hand, I find it distressing because it means I’m not exercising for as long. It may be unfortunate if I eventually have to find a way to walk further, as that would mean coming up with a new starting point and/or destination.

Of course, the fact that I didn’t take any breaks this time around contributed to the decrease in walking time, as well. However, I would estimate that only counts for about five minutes. Again, I took this as a sign that I’m getting more used to the exercise. And the fact that my knees and calves didn’t seem to be in any pain (especially when compared to the walk in July) was a pleasant change.

I’m hoping to make this trip again in September and possibly in October, even. However, it occurs to me that with the approach of winter, I will eventually have to take a break from my monthly treks. I’m a bit saddened by that and am currently trying to figure out an alternative activity for the winter months. After all, I don’t want to give up all this good exercise I’ve been getting.

Post-Festival Review: Seances

I’ve been meaning to write more about the festival I attended last week, but simply haven’t found or made the time. And when I’ve had the time to blog, there’s just been other things I also wanted to write about. But I think I can make enough time to talk about the three seances Michele and Belinda held while we were there.

As I mentioned in the last post about the festival, I had never been to a seance before. In some ways, I suppose that’s strange. I’m friends with a number of mediums and I regularly hang out at a store that has about one seance a month. But to be honest, they don’t hold a great deal of interest for me. In fact, I had originally only planned on attending the first seance at the festival: the one held on Tuesday night.

That was a pleasant seance, as it was early enough in the festival that a relatively small number of people came to it. After all, not many people had arrived at the festival itself yet, either. I actually learned something about seances I didn’t know before that night, too. You see, like most people, I had this idea that seances were about contacting the dead. And while the spirits of those departed do show up, they’re not the only ones who stop in. For the first time, I discovered that seances involved contact with spirits in general, and that can include spirit guides (or even deities) as well as spirits of passed loved ones.

The first night, I received a message, this one relayed by Rich. I got a brief lecture on the fact that I need to let the mask down and let people know the real me. This didn’t surprise me, as I’ve received this message before. I think, however, that the fact that it came from Rich — someone who had just met me six hours earlier and knew nothing about me — really increased the impact this time, however.

The second seance was Thursday night. Right up until an hour before the seance, I was convinced I wasn’t going. I had decided that I had already been to one that week. While it was an enjoyable experience, I didn’t see a great need to attend another one. To be honest, I’m not even sure what reason changed my mind. But when the time came, I rode down to the Khaki Shack in Michele’s golf cart. When we got there, we were quite shocked. I’d estimate that about thirty people were packed into the small building (far more than it can comfortably accomodate).

While I can’t say a reason for my change of mind, it became obvious why I had come along after all. In addition to the fact that there was such a large crowd, many who had come that night had been drinking. In fact, a number had cans of beer with them!

Now, for those of my readers who may not know this, you do not come to a seance or seek out a psychic reader while intoxicated. It does strange things to your energy and those around you. The net result is that you end up with very sick psychics and mediums. In fact, Michele and Rich each prepared to ask those who had been drinking to leave, but were stopped by their own guides. So we went forward.

That seance was a dreadful experience, however. All of the mediums had difficulty getting messages, and even some of their guides were noticeable affected by the situation. After about an hour, Michele’s guide called a halt to the whole process, promising to hold a third seance the next night. A handful of us stayed there for the next twenty minutes (after most everyone had left), mainly because the three mediums were feeling quite unwell. Arlene was kind enough to help pull away the stomach problems Michele and Rich were both feeling, and I helped to ground Rich. After a while, we were all able to leave. And everyone’s guides were kind enough to make sure everyone felt better by the next morning.

With the help of Tim, Michele tried to find a location to hold the unplanned seance Friday night. After a few failed attempts, our quartet agreed to hold the seance in the trailer we were renting for the week. We also insisted that everyone signed up ahead of time this time so that we could determine if we needed to break the group up and do two separate seances. Fortunately, only about ten or twelve people signed up (and counting those of us who had to be there, we number around sixteen or seventeen), so we held only one seance.

I want to mention one incident at the third seance simply because of how peculiar it was. At one point, Michele’s guide commented that there was a little boy in the room associated with one of the women there. (Her husband was also there.) Her guide went on to explain that the little boy identified himself as Anthony and said that he was trying to enter the world as the woman’s son. There was more to the message, but I don’t recall it.

What makes this particular message so remarkable is that Amy had a conversation with the woman and her husband after the seance. Apparently, they’ve been trying to have a child for many years. Even more, because of a tradition in the woman’s family, the couple had already planned on naming any boy they had Anthony. Needless to say, this made this seance a particularly amazing experience for this couple — particularly the husband, who was quite the skeptic and primarily came to humor his wife.

The last seance was probably the best. This was partly because of the smaller number of people who came — not to mention that the people who came weren’t there expecting some sort of “show,” but had realistic expectations for a seance. Of course, it also helped that it was the only seance held in our living space, which by that time had been thoroughly infused with our own energy and presence. This made it much more cozy than the more public and chaotic space of the Khaki Shack.

A troublesome dream

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.

My first post-vacation post

I forgot to mention that I was on vacation last week. So those of you who might have wondered why I was so quiet, you now have your answer. I was off having fun. To be honest, it was quite nice. Of course, vacation gave me a lot to blog about, which I hope to accomplish over the next couple of days.

A group of friends and I went to the Northeast Naturist Festival, which was held just outside of Moravia NY at Empire Haven Naturist Park. While the four of us kept our clothes on for the most part (a few of us got in the hot tub, which meant stripping completely), we had a highly enjoyable time. All of the workshops that Michele and Belinda ran (or at least the ones I attended) went quite well.

We got to the park and checked in about mid-morning on Tuesday. From there, we immediately found a spot in the vendor’s area, set up our canopy, and started setting out our wares. Michele’s belly chains and wire wrapped pendants went extremely well. Our biggest seller, though, were the sarongs that Char sent with us. We sold at least ten of them (and I got a nice orange one, myself). We all took turns running the booth throughout the week, though Amy put in the most time and was our best salesperson by far.

The first couple days we were there, things were absolutely nuts. Both Tuesday and Wednesday, Michele and Belinda had three workshops to present. In between, we also had to go shopping, both in Moravia and in Cortland; and the latter is half an hour from the park. We were all exhausted both nights. In fact, Tuesday nigh, Michele was too tired and couldn’t channel her guide for the seance. That meant that Belinda had to do it herself. Fortunately, Rich came and was able to also help receive and give messages. It was the first seance I ever attended and found it quite interesting.

Wednesday night, I decided that the fast pace was too much for me to continue and let Michele know that I was skipping all workshops on Thursday except for the seance scheduled for that night. This gave me some time to just relax and spend some quality time alone, which I also realized I was missing. I ended up agreesing to go to Cortland again for the few items we still needed to get for the dish to pass dinner we were hosting that night.

Five or six friends came to dinner that night and we had a great time. One of the best things about this vacation is that I got to meet some pretty cool people, thereby further expanding my social circles. Unfortunately, most of them live hours away and we only get to see them on special occasions. However, the four of us from Rochester are talking about trying to make it back to Empire Haven to see some of them on non-festival weekends.

I have more to tell, but I think this is enough blathering for one post.

Not sure when this changed for me.

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?

Pre-Acceptance Issues

Since I first began to check out Misty Irons this weekend, I’ve spent a certain amount of time looking over her site and blog. I find her search for truth refreshing and inspiring. Also, I admire her honest desire to create and facilitate dialogue. So when I ran across her three part series on how queers and conservative Christians “talk past each other, I was more than a little fascinated. For this entry, I’m going to focus on the contents of Part 1, where she talks about her initial difficulty in understanding gay pride.

In all reality, both my personal experiences and my observations have led me to conclude that gay pride is a difficult concept for most queers to understand when they’re first coming to terms with their sexual orientation. I remember the first year or two of my own journey where the whole idea made no sense. I remember telling my friends, “I may be able to accept that I’m gay, but I see no point in being proud about it.” I also argued that it made no more sense to be proud of being gay than it did to be proud that I had blue eyes.

Just as Misty had to get a clearer picture of the coming out process and the difficulty and self-hatred that is usually involved in the early stages of the coming out process to understand the subsequent pride, I had to go through that process before I could truly appreciate and even experience that pride for myself. And I’ve noticed the same lack of understanding in the handful of other gay people (mostly men) I’ve known while they’re going through that stage of their life again. So it only makes sense that non-queers would only be able to understand the idea of gay pride only after becoming familiar with the processing leading up to it.

This is where Misty notes that not everyone who is gay talks about this early period of self-hatred. In fact, she goes so far as to suggest that its discussion is practically forbidden in the gay community:

It was a strange thing, then, for me to learn that when someone who is gay makes such an honest admission, they are practically shouted down by fellow gays for ?self-hatred.? The very admission that helped to open up my mind and heart, just enough to encourage me to keep on digging, is considered a heresy in the gay community.

Again, based on my own experiences and observations, I am inclined to agree with her assessment. And like her, I find this state of affairs troubling — both for the reasons she mentioned and my own. To that extent, I think it’s important to consider what motivates this push for silence.

First, I think that we must face the simple truth that we as humans prefer to avoid that which causes us pain — or even makes us uncomfortable — whenever possible. The early stages in the journey to self-acceptance are often extremely painful. Even among those who were raised in “gay-friendly” family environments, there’s often still a certain amount of discomfort in the coming out process. For those of us who were raised in environments that took a much more negative outlook on homosexuality, the process can be downright hellish. I don’t think it’s any that wonder we might be a little hesitant to drudge that back up or put it on display for others.

Of course, this explains why an individual might not want to expose their own past pains. It does not explain why an individual would actively discourage another person from doing so. It does not explain why we are so quick to silence those going through the process and haven’t fully escaped that self-loathing or sense of resignation to move into actual self-acceptance and self-affirmation.

My personal theory on that one is that we silence them because seeing their pain reminds us of our own. Allowing those who are still on the journey to speak too strongly of these things reminds us of that past we’d like to move beyond and forget about. Unfortunately, attempting to silence them robs us of something the experience offers us: an opportunity for deeper, more complete healing of our own pains.

I also believe that in some ways, it’s a well-intentioned attempt at protecting the person who is hasn’t reached the point of self-acceptance. To put as fine a point as possible on it, admitting that one wishes one wasn’t gay is a pretty good invitation to the proponents of ex-gay therapy to offer you their alternative. That’s an alternative that many of us have tried and failed at, sometimes at great personal cost. So the thought of seeing someone else open themselves up to going down that road themselves can cause some pretty strong reactions. And it is not surprising, however unfortunate it may be, that sometimes, the reaction results in strongly discouraging someone from making such statements.

Ultimately, I think this kind of reaction is more harmful than good. Not only does it prevent would-be supporters from fully understanding us, but it also has negative effects on us. Not being able to be open about our experiences and feelings only inhibits us from finding healing and wholeness. Hopefully, this truth is something that we as individuals and a community will come to understand and seek to change the way we handle these issues in the future.

Musical flashback

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.

Not a good way to find out you need new shoes.

Yesterday came and went, and I’m proud to announce that at least half of the activities I had planned took place. A couple got dropped for various reasons, but I’m willing to consider my birthday celebration a stunning success. Blistered feet and all.

Granted, I could’ve done without the blisters, but it’s my own fault. And I figure they’ll heal eventually. They’re from my successful trek along the canal path from Genesee Valley Park to Schoen Place. The walk took me right about two and a half hours along and was well worth the trip.

I got up at seven yesterday morning, showered, grabbed my water bottles out of the freezer, and left the house for the day. By the time I bought a backpack (necessary for the water and snacks I was taking on the trip), had a quick breakfast on the go, and make it to the park, it was just after nine. And I was off and walking.

The weather was absolutely perfect for this walk, as it was still in the sixties when I started and ony got up to the seventies or eighties by the time I was done at half past eleven. The view was absolutely gorgeous along the way. Sometimes I was walking through areas with dense vegetation, while the trail took me through broad fields in other places. The canal was visible 90% of the time, and I even managed to see a couple boats making their way through the water. I think the best sight, however, was near the end when I managed to spot a mother mallard with several tiny ducklings. I think any of her children would have fit easily in the palms of my hand. I might’ve even been able to close my fingers around their tiny bodies. I wish I would’ve taken my camera, and plan on taking it when I repeat the walk in July.

I’ve already decided to take this trek once every month while the weather stays warm enough for me. However, I do need to be sure to plan a bit better in the future. For example, I need to get a good pair of walking shoes or hiking boots. Of course, I didn’t realize that my current walking shoes (the ones I wear every day) had some major holes in the insoles. That didn’t help the blisters that formed on my feet at all. So I will be getting new shoes, and probably a pair just for this trip. (Michele is also recommending I get the gel inserts for this walk, and I’m inclined to see wisdom in that suggestion, too.)

The other mistake I made was not getting sunscreen. My face, forehead, and forearms are nice and red. In fact, my forehead is still itching a bit from the burn. Fortunately, the backpack protected the back of my neck. I figure I may even have to consider a hat next time, as I think parts of my scalp under my hair got a bit burned too.

But despite these lessons learned, I enjoyed the trek. It was great to be in the great outdoors. And besides the sunburn and sore feet (and the fact I’ve been napping half the day today), I don’t feel any worse for the wear.

After that, I called Belinda to come get me. She didn’t realize how far out Schoen Place is from Psychic’s Thyme up on University Avenue, so she eventually was afraid she got lost and went back to the shop to get Michele. They eventually found me, though I note with some humor that my wait for my ride was over half as long as the seven mile hike I took. Of course, since Michele was working, I had her take me directly to the shop rather than having her take me to the car. Char immediately started harassing me for taking such a walk, pointing out I should’ve only gone half the distance and then walked back to my car. I pointed out to her that the whole point of the walk — and what makes it fun — is that you’re walking from a certain point to another point. I’m not sure she appreciated the concept, but that’s okay.

After the store closed, a group of us went to Red Robin. Michele and Belinda were nice enough to cover my dinner, even with the strawberry dacquiri I ordered. We had a good time and I spent my usual time ogling the various waiters that passed by. Unfortunately, our own server was a woman. That’s actually pretty good, considering I was feeling impish enough that I might’ve teasingly hit on any guy unlucky enough to get our table. I was bad enough that Jim even called me a slut. I just looked at him and asked him if it had really taken him that long to figure it out. (Of course, any of my friends know better, when it comes right down to it.)

After that, we ran to Equal Grounds to listen to the live music there. This guy was a good musician, but he doesn’t have quite the stage presence of the Monastery Dropouts. As such, we stayed in the other room where we could enjoy the music but still talk amongst ourselves without disturbing anyone else.

After an hour or so a the coffee shop, I decided I needed to get home. My feet were really starting to bother me and I was developing a headache. (Earlier today, I finally decided the headache was due to a lack of calcium. The quart of peanut butter cup ice cream seems to have solved the problem.) So we took Jim back out to Chili and Michele and Belinda dropped me off at my house so I could get to bed.

As a final note, I discovered at the end of my journey that they were having a regata in Pittsford yesterday. Had I realized that, I would’ve taken a chair with me and spent the day there after my walk. I love that sort of thing. And there were certain enough shirtless guys wandering around to keep me in eye candy.

If I’m going to get older, I might as well get a party out of it!

Last Wednesday, Brian and I got talking after Game Night was done. Brian was waiting for Woody to get done looking at JOhn’s laptop, and I was just in no hurry to go back home. It’s the first chance I’ve really had an opportunity to talk to Brian much, as he only comes to Game Night rarely. (His job usually keeps him away.) In fact, besides a brief hello at the Vickie Shaw show, this was the first time I’ve seen him since the first Game Night I attended in March.

While we were talking, he paid me a huge compliment. The topic of ages came up, and I found out that Brian and Woody are actually only two years older than me. When I commented on this, Brian mentioned that he had originally assumed I was about twenty eight. I told him thank you and probably grinned from ear to ear. Believe me, considering I turn thirty three next Monday, it’s nice to find out some people look at me and still think I’m in my twenties. What can I say? I’m just superficial enough to wish I could look young forever.

I’m starting to think about what I want to do this weekend for my birthday. It’s rather funny, considering that during the 1990’s and even up until 2004, I didn’t really care much about my birthdays. I was just content to practically forget them. And yet now, I want to celebrate them and do something special for them. I suppose a lot of that has to do with the fact that my opinion of myself and my life has changed. These are things that, in my mind at least, not only deserve to be celebrated, but even demand it. And fortunately, I have friends who seem more than happy to humor me in this matter.

I’m considering taking the long walk I’ve been thinking about for the past month. I want to walk the canal trail from Genesee Valley Park to Schoen Place. I just need to find a friend who is willing to pick me up at the end and bring me back to my car at my point of origin. (That or else have them drop me off as well as pick me up.) It’d be quite a few miles and a good morning/afternoon activity.

That evening, I’ll probably go out to eat with friends. I’m thinking about pushing to go to Red Robin. Yeah, there are places with much fancier meals. But to be frank, I’d be choosing that place for the aesthetically pleasing waitstaff. Hey, I know where my priorities are!

I’m also thinking about pestering a couple of friends to go out dancing that night. It’s been close to a year since the last time I’ve been dancing, and I feel way overdue for it. And of course, I’m also thinking about getting a hotel room for the weekend. Who knows, maybe I can find a hotel that has a room with a jacuzzi available….