UltraFun!

UltraFun!

Today I actually spent most of my workday working. Perhaps it’s because I was rejuvenated after my weekend away. Perhaps it’s because it was embarrassing to tell my old college friends that I spend much of my workday surfing the Web. Perhaps it’s because my new assignment is more streamlined and less odious and onerous. Or perhaps it’s because I have a tighter deadline on this assignment. I’ve always seemed to work better under pressure.

After work I met up with the always erudite and charming Sparky for dinner. I waited for him outside Café Rafaella on Seventh Avenue, alternately reading The Fellowship of the Ring and looking up from my book at all the eye candy walking in and out of the New York Sports Club across the street or strolling past me on the sidewalk.

Sparky and I had a nice, long, rambling meal — we sat at a sidewalk table, ate, talked, watched the world go by, felt a smattering of raindrops. Talked about the latest news of the blogging world, as bloggers are wont to do, as well as myriad other topics. From there we wandered around the West Village, almost all the way to the Hudson River and back again. We stopped off at Creative Visions on Hudson Street and looked through some soft-core gay male erotic art books, one of which had a photo of one half of a well-known romantic blogging N’awlins couple. Lucky guys, those two are.

All in all, Sparky and I had a nice, intelligent evening. And it was refreshing to socialize on a weeknight for a change. I’m trying to get out of the rut I’d lately been stuck in, and I seem to be successful so far. Thanks to you, Sparky!

As for tomorrow night, it’s a night on the town with Bryan. I think we’re gonna paint the town pink!

Shafts of Sunlight

Shafts of Sunlight

I have returned from West Virginia refreshed and enlightened. A door opened partway this weekend, revealing shafts of light. I saw daylight, and now I know that the darkness I’ve been seeing in my life day after day is really only cloud cover. If you look higher, it’s actually sunny out there.

I started feeling great as soon as CanadaGirl and I hit the road on Friday. We met up at Newark Airport after work to pick up a rental car, and she volunteered to drive first. We got out onto I-78 and drove off west into the country. The route out to West Virginia was beautiful — we took I-78 into Pennsylvania, then I-81 south through Maryland, and then I-70 west into West Virginia. Green fields, rolling hills, farmland, the Pennsylvania Dutch Country, little roadside gas stations just off the highway. I’m very familiar with much of this route, having driven it back and forth between UVA and northern New Jersey many times during the last decade, so it was very nostalgic for me, and I felt a sweetness upon being on these roads once again. The sun went down and the stars came out, and although there seemed to be lots of vehicles on the road for a rural Friday evening, most of the land around the highway was dark. We listened to the radio, jumping among various FM stations, and finally, late in the evening, we turned to AM so CanadaGirl could find out the score of the basketball game. We picked up AM stations from Boston and Toronto and even from somewhere west of the Mississippi, which I knew because the call letters began with a K. Finally we picked up a fire-breathing Jesus preacher on the dial and listened to him for a while. It was amusing, but there was also something creepy about driving along a dark highway in the middle of nowhere and listening to this voice preaching fire and brimstone. It was like something out of Stephen King. Finally, at around 11:30 at night, we got to the town of Berkeley Springs, West Virginia — known for its spas and hot springs — and found our way to the rest of the gang in the suite we’d all rented together.

There were seven of us this weekend. One person was the fiancée of one of the guys, and another person didn’t live in our dorm but has sort of been an honorary member of our little group. Two or three people couldn’t make it this weekend, but there were enough. I mentioned last time that these are all very talented people. They probably just seem like an abstract group to you, because you don’t know them firsthand. But each of us has a very distinctive and individual personality. We’ve known each other for almost eight years now. We lived together in the same small dorm for two years during college, and during that time we each garnered a nickname. We also have tons of in-jokes and catchphrases that have developed over time. We also play spades together. And collectively, these people make me laugh more than any other people I know. I don’t think I can explain the chemistry we all have together. I love their company. I think of us as a family, and I consider myself extremely fortunate to have met everyone in our little band of friends. I cherish these people.

It was nice to be the token gay guy this weekend — it was nice to hang out with a bunch of straight people for a change. (Except CanadaGirl. She’s the token gay girl.) These people are so accepting and supportive of me and of who I am. They like me for who I am. In fact, they like me because of who I am.

But back to the weekend. It was not just a relax-and-hang-out sort of weekend. This time, there was an itinerary. Two of the guys had organized the weekend in order for us to discuss our professional lives, with an eye towards eventually perhaps putting all of our talents and skills together to create some sort of business or other endeavor. There were two big easels, markers, pads of paper, pens. Friday night we hung out and drank beer. Saturday morning we got up at 8:00, and by 9:00 we were sitting on couches and chairs. We went around the room and each of us summarized the paths of our professional lives since graduation — what we’ve done, where we’ve been, and more importantly, what we’ve learned and what skills we’ve developed over the last few years. After lunch, we sat around brainstorming about different ideas. Nothing fully concrete came out of it, but I think we’ve hit upon some interesting ideas that will germinate, and maybe something will come out of this eventually.

Late in the afternoon we went out for a short walk/hike. Then we came back and talked some more. At night we made dinner together and drank beer. Afterwards we sat around drinking lots more beer, talking about everything under the sun, playing some wacky games of Hangman on the whiteboard. CanadaGirl put up a phrase and told us the category was “70’s show.” The answer wound up being “That 70’s Show.” One of the guys put up a phrase, and it turned out to be “I don’t want to play Hangman anymore.” Later on he did another one, and it was “Can we please shoot the person who started this game.”

I laughed this weekend. I laughed more than I’d laughed in ages. At one point on Saturday afternoon, when we were sitting around brainstorming, a few incredibly hilarious ideas were thrown into the ring at the same time, and suddenly we all burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. For about two minutes I was laughing so hard that my stomach muscles were hurting and there were tears in my eyes. I couldn’t catch my breath. I had to take off my glasses and collapse against the couch and I still couldn’t stop laughing. It had been a few years since I’d laughed that hard. It was absolutely wonderful. If I can laugh like that even just a few more times over the course of my existence, it will make this whole life thing worthwhile.

This weekend I thought about some things that I hadn’t thought about before. We talked about the concept of a corporation, the reasons for it, whether it’s a useful concept or not. Before the weekend, these words and ideas and everything surrounding them — “team,” “management,” “incentive” — were anathema to me and my left-handed personality and right-brained mind. They just sounded so Dilbert. Now I’m not so sure. I’ve always been skeptical about the idea of joining together with people to create a business, or to create anything, really. And on Saturday, while we were talking about this concept, I realized why. It’s not just that I feel it would be constricting and claustrophobic, and it’s not just that I resent people telling me what to do. It’s that I’ve wanted to achieve things on my own. I’ve wanted to be an acclaimed individual. I’ve wanted to be praised and known for myself, for who I am, for my own special talents and abilities.

You go through school and everything is geared toward the individual. Individual awards. Individual achievement. Individual talents. You’re rewarded for who you are and for what you can do by yourself. And then you become an adult, and you see that many things in the world can be accomplished only in teams. It seems so simple, but until this weekend, I didn’t realize why everyone out there talks about teamwork and group motivation and so on and so forth. It’s still not natural for me to use all those corporate-type words, but at least now I know why people talk about things like this. It no longer seems only like a way for Evil Forces to quash the power of the individual and make the world a gloomy place. Sometimes it’s actually the best way to get something done.

My most important epiphany came after all of us had summarized what we’ve done and where we’ve been in the last five or six years. I realized that I’m not the only one who has drifted from one thing to another. One guy worked for a company in Arkansas, and then one in Georgia, and then went up to New Jersey a year ago, but he got laid off, and just recently he moved to DC. One guy went into the Peace Corps, got sick and had to leave, and then he got a master’s degree, and he’s been working at a job for a year, and he’s already looking for something else. CanadaGirl worked in a French bakery out in Seattle for two years, then got an MBA, and now she’s a consultant for one of the Big Five. (Or is it Big Six? I can’t remember.) Another of us has just completed a five-year stint in the Navy, and at the end of the summer he’s off to Paris for a one-year French MBA program.

I realized that none of us really knows what we want to do with our lives. I don’t feel like so much of a failure anymore. We’re all either 26 or 27, and when I look at where I am and where they all are, I don’t feel much different from them. And I see that if they can all be more accepting of their own imperfections, then I should be more accepting of mine, too. Anyway, I may be a slacker in my current job, but I did get a law degree and pass a couple of bar exams. It just means that my current job isn’t really for me. But I really do need to lighten up.

And I’m young! I’m so goddamn young. For some reason it’s so hard for me to get this concept firmly lodged in my head. I always worry that I’m squandering my time, that my peak years are passing or have passed, that it’s all too late, that nothing good will happen during the rest of my life. I tend to extrapolate the present into the future — to tell myself that things will Always Be Like This. But they won’t. This weekend showed me that it’s still possible to feel full and alive.

I thought about some other things, too. I wonder if New York is the place for me. I wonder if someplace like DC would be a little better. It would be so great to live someplace where I have sunlight streaming in through the windows, and a homey atmosphere, and a car, and easy access to mountains and fields and vistas. We were only about two hours from Charlottesville this weekend, and I realized once again how much I miss that place. I don’t just miss UVA — I miss the town itself sometimes.

So I’m going to have to make some major changes in my life. I have to think about things and start some things afresh. This weekend I saw that it’s possible to be happy. I experienced some joyful moments, and I experienced some people upon whose shoulders the world weighs much less than it does upon mine. There’s a lesson here. In fact there are tons of lessons here. It’s going to take me a while to process everything that happened this weekend.

Pad See Yew, Too!

Pad See Yew, Too!

So much to write about today. I’m going away for the weekend. I’m going to West Virginia, of all places. I have this very close group of friends from college –we all moved into the same dorm at the beginning of my third year of school, and we all lived there for two years. We just clicked from the get-go. There are about ten of us, mostly male, some female, and they’re some of the funniest, most talented people I’ve ever known. A couple of the guys have arranged for us to rent a suite in Berkeley Springs, WV, and their e-mails to the rest of us have been sort of strange and filled with odd portents. I think they’ve concocted some sort of business venture in which they want us to take part. I’m just looking forward to renting a car and going on a road trip with my friend CanadaGirl, who’s part of this group. I haven’t done a road trip in ages. I’m looking forward to getting out of the New York area, I’m looking forward to being away from a computer and not being able to blog for a couple of days.

I think at some point I’m going to have to read this. Fascinating! (Thanks, Dean!)

I talked to my boss today and I’ve persuaded her to give this horrendously dreadful assignment to one of the other clerks. I’ve been working on this thing for about three weeks, or attempting to work on it, and I’ve made no headway. There are either four or five companies involved, and there are either four or five cases consolidated here, I’m not even sure. It involves solid waste and host community benefits and sole source facilities and transfer stations. I don’t really know what any of that means. I have this mental block against the whole thing. I can deal with people. I can deal with a human story. I can deal with someone suing for certain rights, or suing to recover certain costs, or an agency taking action against someone to get his or her (argh) professional license revoked, or even someone suing for Medicaid benefits, despite the confusing technical world of Medicaid. But this case has no human story. A city is suing four solid waste companies to get money from them because they take up space in the city. Or maybe just because the city was strapped for cash and thought this would be a good way to get some. Not even is there no human story; there’s no damn story here at all. I can’t wrap my brain around this thing. I try to read the briefs and my mind drifts off. It repels me. The papers and I are both northern ends of magnets.

I didn’t want to admit defeat, but this morning I decided it was finally time. I can’t take it anymore. And so my boss said she’d give the assignment to one of the other clerks and give me whatever that clerk is doing. It’s embarrassing. As lazy as I am, I’m not a person who likes to quit. Or rather, I don’t like the perception of quitting. Sure, I’ve never had trouble passive-aggessively surfing the Net and getting no work done, but actually giving up? But I guess sometimes you have to know when to quit. You are the Clinton health care plan. Goodbye!

Last night I had dinner with my friend Nick. For the second time in five days we went to Lemongrass and got Thai food. On Sunday we went to the Lemongrass on University Place, and last night we went to the one on Barrow Street. As I turned off Hudson onto Barrow, I realized that a movie was being filmed. Along Hudson there were these fluorescent green flyers that said “To the Set,” with arrows. So I walked along Barrow and there was a Citroen on the street and a Volvo behind it. A man was hosing down the street to make it wet. A handsome, well-dressed couple were sitting at an outdoor table at a restaurant with spotlights around them. I asked a woman with headphones and a tanktop what they were filming, and in a European accent she said, “A commercial from France.” Oh. That’s all.

I met up with Nick and we had the same things we always get — he got Pad Thai and I got Pad See Yew. As I placed each broad noodle and piece of Chinese broccoli into my mouth with a pair of chopsticks, we talked about me and my stuckness. But see, I never feel uplifted when I talk with him. He says things that are meant to be positive and uplifting but for some reason he winds up making me feel worse. I think it just makes me think he’s much more capable a human being than I am. Nothing he said was making sense. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to let it make sense — maybe I should have let it just wash over me.

I think I’m going to send my resume to Lambda. Also, I think I’m going to look into finding a roommate in Manhattan. Nick suggested that to me. I said okay, even though I’m wary of roommates (I had a bad experience last year). But then he told me there were no right answers. I said okay, I guess you’re trying to signal that it’s better to find my own place? No, he said. Huh? I said. And it went on like that. He was talking about the fact that certain things require work and effort and I was saying that I don’t want to make yet another bad decision. I’m not even summarizing the conversation very well because I don’t really know what the point of it was. It was like going down the rabbit hole. Eat me! Drink me! Make me into a Mobius strip! The point seemed to be that I need to put more effort into making decisions but that I also need simultaneously to worry less about the consequences and yet also pay attention to the consequences. Make a choice that works for me, but don’t obsess about falling into a bad situation. Worry and not worry. Or something. I didn’t get it. He might as well have been talking about solid waste facilities. I couldn’t process what he was saying and I just felt worse.

Some of this has to do with Nick himself. There are certain people whom I meet and then find myself feeling really competitive with. When I met Nick back in September, I fell for him almost immediately. I thought maybe he was the one, or at least a one. We became good friends, and we spent almost every Saturday walking around Manhattan. I was enthralled by him. But I was never sure how he felt about me, and when I finally told him about my feelings, he politely told me he wasn’t looking to date anyone at that time, that he was recovering from a bad breakup. That was the truth, but a couple of months later he entered the dating scene again, just not with me. This upset me, and we were out of contact for a month or so. When we got back in touch, things were like new. My crush was gone — I’d realized he wasn’t the person I’d thought he was anyway. With my romantic yearnings out of the way, our friendship is much improved. We’re less guarded around each other now.

But I find myself envious of him and his success. For one thing, he seems to get all these dates through PlanetOut, while I can’t remember the last time I had one. But more than that, he’s such a go-getter. He works for a cable TV network and he’s the youngest management-level person in the company’s history. He just turned 25, and in two weeks he’s starting a job at a different cable network, where he’ll be making $80,000 a year. Just a college degree. He had a screwed-up childhood — an alcoholic, emotionally needy mother who’s on either her third or fourth marriage. Whenever I tell him that his life seems great, he tells me about how internally anxious and screwy he actually is. Yet at the same time he knows that this screwy childhood has given him strength and independence and worldliness. Instead of killing him it made him stronger. He has this manic energy that chaotically bursts out of him. He’s a great schmoozer, he’s a real people person, he knows how to work all the office politics, and on top of that he’s creative and energetic. He’s either going to be the next Jeff Zucker or he’s going to wind up jumping off a cliff to his death. My god, he can be exhausting to be around.

Sometimes I still see the world as an elementary school, where they give out just one award. Only one person can get it. If someone else gets the acclaim, then you lose. I’m just thinking of fifth grade, where my smart friend got the language arts award and the math award and the science award and he kept walking down the aisle to receive one certificate after another while I kept looking back at my mom with this upset look on my face and wound up getting nothing.

But really, the world doesn’t work that way. There are no awards, or if there are, they’re all just hype-fests propelled by big corporations. There are no Egyptian gods or pyramids to greatness here. We’re all just human beings scraping ourselves off the pavement. It’s just that some people happen to look really good while doing it.

Have a nice weekend.