this is the house that funk built, groove armada style

I have been running this week, but not eating too well.

But I have run, 3.15 miles in 30 minutes Monday & Tuesday, and I plan on doing it again tomorrow, Friday & Saturday. Then take Sunday off and do it next Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday. Then I will be ready for my trip.

Excited for the trip, but somewhat nerve wracked trying to plan for everything that needs to be done prior to leaving.

You’d think with all the traveling I’ve done since I bought the house 20 months ago that I’d be ready to leave it for some time, but 3 weeks just seems so very long. And with cats, garbage, recycling, shoveling and general upkeep of the house not to mention paying the appropriate bills, it is a long time.

I want to start profiling some of the expected highlights of our trip, but I am having trouble with the pictures and even the fucking hyperlink. For some reason, the only way my blog takes hyperlinks is when I do it on my laptop, not my desk top at home or any other computer I use. But my parents are using my laptop as their PC is fried (motherboard, I think – Thank you Carl!) and I don’t want to talk about these places without pictures or even possible links to websites with pictures. I suck at this.

Well, the first place to highlight is the Vimanmek Palace. This is the largest golden teakwood mansion in the world. The craftsmanship is phenomenal, the detail is almost impossible to believe. Vimanmek was originally built in 1900 by King Rama V, and then it was moved and reassembled perfectly at its present location in Bangkok a year later. The mansion actually was dormant for years, from about 1925 until in 1982 it was renovated to represent what it looked like at the time it was originally built and was opened to the public. With its western architectural style and thai style, it is the perfect fusion of east & west and a must see for anyone who loves architecture.

Just make sure, if you are western, you cover your legs. This is a one thing for western visitors to Thailand to remember – if you go into a royal palace, you must cover your legs & arms, and your sandals have to have ankle & heel straps.

Look up Vimanmek Palace on wikipedia, or check out vimanmek for more information. I have pictures of me there, but I can’t seem to figure out this shit yet.

Take me out tonight. Where there’s music and there’s people and they’re young and alive

Last week after working at the movie theater, I came out to my car, and it was a sheet of ice. I got out my trusty ice scraper and used it, and then just before I was done, it snapped in half.

Now, to most people, buying an ice scraper isn’t a big deal, but it hit me that I’ve never bought one because the one I broke was the only ice scraper I have ever owned. My grandmother bought it for me 19 years ago, when I first bought my ‘69 VW Beetle. It lasted through the ’67 Plymouth Valiant, ’86 Chevy Chevette, ’92 Diahatsu Charade (all 3 cylinders in that car), ’97 Suzuki Sidekick and now the ’03 Mazda Protégé5.

This made me a little sad, because it was probably one of the few things that I use regularly that reminds me of her. She died almost 5 years ago on 02/19/2002, and a week doesn’t go by without me thinking about her. She was a very unique and strong willed woman who shaped me in so many ways.

My grandmother was born in Fall River, MA in 1924. Her parents had emigrated from Newcastle, England, and her father was wealthy. She used to show me pictures of their summer home on Martha’s Vineyard. I remember one specifically where she was standing on the wraparound porch in a cute little hat. She used to speak to me reverentially about her father.

When she was 18, she got pregnant to an army soldier, Henry McAvoy, who was deployed to Europe before she had time to marry him. Her father was angry with her, and shipped her off to New York City after my mother was born as he was embarrassed by the whole episode. From what I can gather, my great-grandmother sided with her daughter, and this led to problems that culminated in their divorce, and my great-grandfather taking all the money with him to his new, younger wife. I think my grandmother took the burden of her actions with her for the rest of her life.

She did marry the man who got her pregnant and moved with him to his hometown of Pittsburgh, PA. She raised my mother and had some medical problems and did not delivery any more live babies, even though it seems she was pregnant on a few other occasions. Therefore, my mother is an only child, who had six children.

She was a wonderful grandmother: there has never been a moment in my life where I ever doubted that she loved me. She was the first person I told I was gay. Actually, when I was 17 I told her I was bisexual, and her response was “I don’t believe in bisexuals – they are just greedy. Pick which one you are and be that!” To this day, I still don’t truly believe men can be true bisexuals. I have never met one myself. Many of us start out saying that as a segue into being homosexual. Like it is easier for heteros to accept us if they think we are like them in some ways. Grandma wouldn’t let me get away with it, and I didn’t.

(As an aside, I seem to have a belief that women can be bisexual much more than men. I don’t know why, but the ones I’ve met seem to be more fluid in their sexuality. Or maybe I’ve just never met a truly bisexual man.)

My grandmother fought for me and all of her other grandchildren. Once, my sister & I did something to a neighbor’s pool, I don’t even know what it was, when I was like 4 or 5 years old. I think she accused us of throwing rocks onto the pool cover. We were both young, so I can’t imagine we were throwing boulders or anything heavy to damage it, but the woman who lived there saw us do something (I personally think we were racing and I threw my gum out, but I can’t remember the truth now 32 years later.) Well, she ran after us, caught us (she was a former babysitter of ours so she knew us and we stopped running) and then proceeded to slap me & my sister. I remember standing in the middle of the street crying my eyes out.

My grandmother learned of this, marched right down to her house, yelled at her to come out, and when she didn’t come out, she trashed this woman’s porch. If that woman thought a pebble or some gum on her pool tarp was bad, she probably didn’t like a patio furniture set on thrown on top of it. There used to be a Regent Pop bottling plant nearby, so everyone always saved their Regent Pop bottles and the plant would give you a discounted rate to fill them up. This woman had about 5 cases of empty pop bottles. My grandmother threw them all down the steps and broke every one of them. And on top of that, she got the police to come and arrest this woman for assault charges. My sister had to testify at the trial, but I was deemed too young (I don’t remember the outcome of the trial.)

My grandmother was a bad ass! There was never a time I didn’t feel safe in her house, or out with her. She had my Pap train her German Shepherds to protect her grandchildren, even to the point that if Pap ever rough-housed with us, the dogs would bite him.

And she remained a bad ass to the end. She had throat cancer, and had problems eating after the treatment, and she ended up withering away. It was very sad to be around. Such a vibrant woman full of life and love, and then she couldn’t maintain her weight, then she couldn’t walk, then she was bedridden.

She lapsed into a coma on 02/12/2002 and was brought to the hospital. She would come in and out of the coma while in the hospital. My one brother and his wife, who live in New York City, were in the US Virgin Islands, and we couldn’t contact him for a while. Once we did, he wasn’t able to make it into town until Sunday, 02/17/2002.

We pulled the plug on Friday, 02/15/2002. She held on. She had been in a coma since the day after she was brought into the hospital. My brother showed up on Sunday, she came out of the coma, said hi to him, talked to him for a little while, kissed him, and then fell back asleep.

A nurse was cleaning her and changing the sheets. When she was done, she leaned in and said “Is there anything else you need Mary?” My grandmother opened her eyes and said “No, honey, I just need to die now.” My sister & I were shocked at first, but I realized she accepted this inevitability.

And she had said goodbye to all her family members, all her grandchildren. She held on and fought until she could kiss Jeff, the final one to show up. And then she quietly died after we’d all left the hospital Monday night. Oddly enough, the last thing on the television on Monday night when we left was an A&E Biography on Lizzie Borden, who was also from Fall River, MA, and who my great grandmother always said she had lived across the street from for a few years. Maybe my grandmother wanted to watch that just for the memories.

Interestingly, on the ride back from the movie theater after I snapped the ice scraper in half, I was in tears. A simple ice scraper breaking had brought me to tears. But as I thought of her, I actually smiled. And I know now that I don’t need the ice scraper to hold on to her memory. I have them all in my head. As long as I live, I am a part of my grandmother, and she is a part of me.

I like to think she knew that her ice scraper would last 19 years. It would be like her to make sure that I was taken care of even after she was gone.

And I still miss her terribly. But, in the end, I feel lucky, actually privileged, to have known her for almost 33 years.

Always know sometimes think it's me, but you know I know when it's a dream. I think a "No" will mean a "Yes," but it's all wrong.

It’s Friday. I am going to work. Enough said!

No?

For the uninitiated, I don’t work on Fridays at my regular job (I reference working at the movie theater – that is a secondary or even tertiary job for me – taking care of my house is more my secondary job at times.)

I think with all the work I’m doing and the fact I’m trying to save plenty of money for the trip, I might be the most boring person in the universe right now.

I went home last night, again had to park car at the end of my driveway, shovel and salt the rest of my driveway, pull car into garage…and kind of laid around the rest of the evening. Ate some burritos from Trader Joe’s. Had some White Castle cheeseburgers (the frozen kind, as Pittsburgh does not have a White Castle near anymore.) Had some raisins. Didn’t run, didn’t do much of anything.

See? Boring…just the dullest I think I’ve been in forever. I am even working 6 days each week, sometimes 7. At least last year at this time I was distracted by the Steelers tremendous run up to the Super Bowl and my own girth. Now that I’ve lost 40 + pounds, it is tough to worry about it too much, as long as I maintain.

At least it will start getting exciting in about 2 weeks. Actually, in almost 14 days exactly we will be landing in Bangkok. That does make me excited, but I have to get through the next 12 days of work.

I think in the next few days, I am going to organized enough to start highlighting the sites we are planning on seeing on this site, so that when I start mentioning them when I update from Thailand (yes, I am now taking the course that I WILL be updating from Thailand) readers will be familiar to those spots.

That is my goal as of right now. We shall see how that works out. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Being there at the right time, cheaper than a dime

Got the calcium chloride and it is working great on my driveway. There will be no more skating down my driveway in my car.

I didn’t end up running on Tuesday after doing it on Monday, only because I am working late, and after I got back from Lowe’s Home Improvement with the 50 lb bag of calcium chloride, finished shoveling my driveway and then salted it (I know I am not technically “salting” it, but that is how I will describe it – calcium chloriding my driveway doesn’t make any sense) it was after 8:30pm, time to make food and watch American Idol.

Yesterday morning proved to me why I need to keep up on the driveway. I went down my driveway, which I’d freshly salted at 5:00 am, and stopped as a dump truck flew past my car, going so fast that my car shook as it went past. Had that truck been going down there at the same time on Tuesday, I wouldn’t be typing this now, I’d be drinking all meals through a straw, and that would be the optimistic view of things.

So I got home last night and ran. That is going well, at least. I am eating like a pig, though I am mostly keeping it low fat content. I just feel hungry more often now than I have in the past, and I keep feeding myself.

I am looking forward to my trip to Thailand, obviously, but I am also looking forward to starting the weight training program when I get back. I still run, and it is still fun, but I am ready to change it up a little, see if I can do it. Plus, I do have the free Bowflex just sitting there collecting dust.

On the final note today, m nephew Tom, the one who is going to Thailand today, checked several times since last winter when his last day of school is. It has been February 7, 2007. He explained to them that his Uncle (me) was taking him overseas once he graduated. They told him he could leave February 8, 2007. So let it be written, so let it be known.

By some weird coincidence, United was having a fare sale to Thailand for travel to Bangkok anytime beginning December 7, 2006 through February 8, 2007, with travel ending by March 1, 2007. As coincidence goes, we wanted to be in Thailand for 3 weeks, so if we left February 8 and came back on March 1, that would be 3 weeks total, and I’d get a break on the cost of the flight. I ended up saving between $150-$200 per ticket going on these days. Very happy Mike!!

Yesterday, the school said that the students have to come in on February 8, 2007 for finals. Out of the fucking blue, completely arbitrarily, the school has decided to delay finals one day.

My nephew is certain that he will be able to actually do the finals on February 7 after talking to his teacher, but it pissed me off yesterday. Especially when I thought about it would be a shame that my nephew would have spent the past 20 months going to school to become a carpenter, and was going to miss out on his degree because I was going to drug him and force him to get on the plane at 7 am on February 8, making him miss his finals.
Cause I wasn’t spending another $350 per ticket to change (I checked, $200 change fee, and the difference between what a regular ticket would cost at the time I’d change, which would probably be about $150.)

I'm not cheap. I'm frugal. And this has nothing to do with me being frugal.

Well, maybe a little bit, but not much.

You know the nearer your destination the more you’re slip slidin’ away

I had probably the scariest moment of my life at my house this morning. My heart is still pounding just thinking about “what could have happened.”

I bought my house almost 2 years ago, and I have loved just about every moment of being a home owner. Even when the gas was shut off when it was found that the pipes were leaking, at least I learned quickly how to solve some house problems that I didn’t know I could do. However…

I live on a very busy road, a 4 lane road that is the major artery, Route 30, from the Parkway to the southeastern suburbs of Pittsburgh, with a speed limit of 40. That only means most people only go 60 mph on it (including myself when I drive past my own house at times) most of the time. My driveway is 65 feet, downhill, onto Route 30. And it is a blind driveway, built out of the hill, so my yard on my left, and I can’t see the cars coming from the left until about the last 4-5 feet. My driveway is about 8 feet wide, and the retaining wall is about 2 -2 ½ feet high. Seriously, it is tough to see anything until you are almost on top of the traffic.

I had shoveled snow last night when I got home at about 6:45 pm. Then, when I checked right before I went to bed, it had snowed a little bit more, so I went out and snowed, put down more salt & sand (for traction) and went to bed around 10 pm.

In the past, when the driveway has been slick, I’ve been able to drive down it slowly, slide a little bit and stop. I survived last winter with no problems. My car is 69 inches wide, so the 8 feet driveway has never posed a problem.

This morning, I got in my car, opened the garage door, and made the left down my driveway. I hit the breaks, and I kept going forward. Slowly. In one direction, not even like I was sliding from side to side. I just kept going straight down, barreling forward onto Route 30. With about 10 feet to go, I panicked and decided to turn the steering wheel and hit the retaining wall to stop myself. Nothing. So I screamed. Like a howler monkey as I just kept sliding straight onto the road.

I got very lucky as there were no cars coming towards me. I sat in the middle of the road for about 20 seconds saying “Holy Fuck, Holy Fuck, Holy Fuck” over and over again. Then I turned the car to the right and drive to work. Shaking most of the time, but I made it there.

So tonight, right after work, I am going to Home Depot, buying up all the magnesium chloride, or whatever it is that I normally use, along with some sand, shoveling the driveway, salting & sanding it down, and this might cut into my ability to run tonight. And then doing it again tomorrow morning before I shower. I will NOT live through that sliding hell that I experienced this morning.

I don’t want to be running after 8 or 9 pm, and last night I didn’t get home until after 6:45 pm, shoveled and then ran, and finished around 7:45 pm. That is too late for me to be running. Maybe I can run first, eat, relax, and then shovel at 10 again, cause I’m just going to at the very least salt it down again tomorrow at 5:30 am.

“My brain goo's coming out all artistical, thanks to you” – Moe Szyslak

Not a bad weekend. I wanted to point out that I participated in an exercise in self awareness that Allesandro is conducting over at disc0mb0bulati0ns. It was to write a letter to your teenage self knowing what you know now. I didn’t know if Id like it or not, as I am a private person (so says the guy who has faithfully written this blog for over 12 months, 170 entries – doesn’t sound too private) and don’t normally like to show my flaws, at least old flaws. Flaws from today I can handle, flaws from 20 years ago usually embarrass me.

But I decided to try and write a letter, and to be honest, it came easily. And it was interesting to think about what I would actually tell myself back then. I tell everyone that I wouldn’t want to be 17 again, and that is truer today after looking back at what I actually was at that age. But that doesn’t change the fact that we all had to go through this age, these mistakes, the turbulence of the age, and hopefully we learned.

My mother used to always say “Youth is wasted on the young.” And I used to believe her. But in looking back now, I think that we learn so much when we are young that we apply for the rest of our lives that it isn’t wasted. In watching my nieces and nephews grow up, I agree that teenagers do spend a lot of time screwing things up, but how are they going to learn if they don’t make mistakes?

I’m sure you’ve all heard of George Santayana’s famous line “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." I think that our teenage years are when we learn so much about other people and relationships that we have to learn from it, or we make the same mistakes again and again. And I don’t think we can learn it just by hearing it from people, we have to experience it for ourselves.

I also think it is harder growing up gay, though, as we don’t usually hear it from anyone. Anything we learn is from ourselves. Sadly, in the predatory nature that seems prevalent in the “gay community,” older gay men want to keep younger gay men innocent of the truth long enough to seduce them.

Don’t get me wrong, I think that the sexually predatory nature of relationships from older to younger is relevant our society regardless of sexual identity, older men have been tring to seduce younger women for ages (Even Julius Cesear was 31 years older than Cleopatra when they tumbled together in 48 & 47 BC.)

I think the difference is that, for the most part, younger women have a lot of warning growing up, from parents, schools, police, even televisions shows on a regular basis. Most 18 year old women working at Hooters know the score, they know that they are using their youth and sexuality to get bigger tips and such, and there are many chivalrous men who will come to defend them when one man gets too pushy or touchy

I don’t think that young gay men are given this information, so they are more vulnerable until learn that on their own, usually at a later age than women. I’m not saying that young woman have an advantage, but society as a whole has protected them more.

And that is where we, as gay men, must learn from our mistakes. I think, in looking back at my teenage years, I did an adequate job of learning. I wish I’d learned some things earlier than I did, but in the long haul, I did learn. I think that blogging about them is a way to get it out there so that some younger gay men might learn from some of my mistakes.

I realize that that sentence sounds arrogant, but it is one small way I can change the world, specifically the gay world. It is the reason I am out to everyone at work, why I talk to people at work about it when they ask me. It may seem like a small thing, but I’ve had at least 3 people tell me that they’ve changed their minds on gay people (most specifically, that it isn’t a choice), and each of these people are parents, so they get the chance to shape their children’s minds.

If I can teach a younger gay man something important, maybe they will be that much wiser, or ready for what is to come. They aren’t getting it from their parents, teachers, police or television shows (that gay character that was on “Desperate Housewives” wasn’t exactly teaching anyone anything good!) So they have to get it from us older gay men. And we need to stop being predatory.

Does that make sense? Oh, and there is a picture of me along with my entry. Once I figure out how to do pictures on my own blog, that picture will be here as well, but I can't figure it out.

True revolutionaries never bomb buildings…it attracts too much attention

Last two days I’ve been under 220 for the first since October. I was at 219.5. I am feeling a bit better about it as well, though a little anxious that I will work hard for 3 more weeks and then stop running for an entire 3 weeks in Thailand.

I will be walking a lot through the regular tourist sites in the cities, climbing in the mountains in Chiang Rai, riding a bike through the city of Ayutthaya, and swimming in the Gulf of Thailand, so I should get some good exercise, but nothing like running 3.15 miles a day (that is right, I am now up to 3.15 every day, up .05 miles! I know, it is a small victory, but a victory nonetheless) but at least I won’t be sitting on a beach, baking myself.

Also, I will be sweating. A lot. It is regularly over 95 degrees F there, with humidity that I’ve never felt before. When I went there in 2004, it felt like someone placed two huge bricks on my shoulders when I stepped off the plane. I am ready for it this time, and my nephew is like 120 pounds, so he should be fine after the initial shock.

I will say one more thing about my current food. Two days in a row this week, I’ve finished my run and been famished. As noted here before, this has happened to me before, and I don’t understand it. Last night, I was shaking walking to the kitchen after I finished running. I was so weak, all I could do was sit down and eat an apple and some crackers. I am eating the same amount of calories as always, and I’ve never had this problem before. Quite frustrating.

I did just check the in flight entertainment for our trip to Bangkok. Actually, we are going to Japan first, and our movies are listed as “All the King’s Men,” “Flags of Our Fathers,” Flushed Away,” “A Good Year,” “Man of the Year,” “The Queen” and “Running with Scissors.” Not bad, as I’ve not seen one of them. Sadly, as I work in a movie theater and could see them all for free. I have no plan to see “A Good Year” or “Flags of Our Fathers,” but the rest of them should be good at distracting me from being on a plane for 13 ½ hours. And in case that fails, I do have the first 8 episodes of the HBO series “Rome” and 8 movies on my iPod, as well as 5950 songs on it. And a book to read. And I can start walking around the jet when I am truly bored. Sadly, I don’t ever seem able to sleep on the plane, so distracting me from the boredom of flying is my only hope.

You could make somebody a pretty little wife, but don't let anybody tell you how to live your life

I decided to start running a little farther, and have been able to get up to 3.15 miles, after months of running 3.1. Doesn’t sound like that much of a change, but it is quite challenging to get it all done in 30 minutes.

Eating. Yeah, I’ve been eating. A lot at times. As the temperatures are down, I seem to require more food to sit around doing nothing. It is annoying and frustrating to me, but that is the way it is going to be. Yesterday morning, I was 221 lbs. I think I a hoping to “stay the course” until I get back from Thailand, and then start with the strength training alongside the cardio I do.

Sadly, I feel like the running more will be for naught, just because I will only be doing it for 3 more weeks, and then I’ll be gone for 3 weeks in Thailand. Can you believe it? 3 weeks and 1 day I’ll be getting on the plane? Damn, it seems to be hurling towards me, and I don’t know if I’ll be ready. That is the best part of a plane trip – whether you are ready or not, on that specific day, you have to be at the airport for that flight.

This week I am listening to my entire Elvis Costello collection. This does not include every album he’s ever released, but it does include most of them, as well as some special releases (including the 5 EP collection “Costello and Nieve” from 1996) and I can’t believe how consistently good his work is.

I would even say that 1994’s “Brutal Youth,” with it’s angry songs “Just About Glad” and “Kinder Murder” is as excellent an album as “My Aim is True,” a true classic album with terrific songs such as “Alison,” "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes” and “Watching the Detectives” (and don’t bother me with the fact that “Watching the Detectives” was no on the original UK version – it was written and performed at the same time as the rest of the album and was released as a single in the UK at the same time as “My Aim is True,” so I consider it part of that album.)

I think you could easily make a case for “When I Was Cruel,” his 2002 release, to be included in the same breath of excellence as his earlier albums. The first song, “45” combines the titular number as a year, an age and a vinyl record speed behind a slow beat and a melody that will have you singing it when you didn’t realize you are even doing it. Then he spits out a song like “Tear Off Your Own Head (It's a Doll Revolution)" in the next breath, and just for good measure, he sings pure pop like “Alibi” that makes you sway your head to the tune. And those 3 albums would be an excellent entire career for most singer/songwriters, and I haven’t even noted most of his popular songs. And 25 years separates those three albums. To be able to maintain that level of songwriting and musicianship is amazing. I contend that if Elvis Costello has the smooth jazz voice of a Luther Vandross or the versatile vocal talents of an Elton John, he would have been more popular than all of them.

As it is, he has remained on parts of the fringe of the popular music arena, revered by other artists, and respected by a part of the music buying public. If you don’t know him, I recommend the 3 albums I noted above, but really, any of his stuff is of high quality if you like well crafted songs and smart lyrics.

If you don't, then buy the new Britney Spears or Jessica Simpson or whatever is popular. I guess as long as it helps you tap your toes, it's good. But Elvis Costello is so worth a listen or two.

We both have the same mind. And time and time we have so much to share

“I’m a college student,” he says, and then follows my eyes as I look at the high school letter jacket that says “Nick ’07.” “Almost,” he finishes, giggling.

Earlier in the afternoon, he had come to see “Dreamgirls” at the theater, and when he handed me the ticket, he asked me if I’d seen it. “Of course, “ I said, “It was very enjoyable.”

“I have the original cast recording with Jennifer Holiday, and I just can’t believe that Jennifer Hudson is better than her.” He stated, sure of himself.

“Well, Jennifer Holiday is a legend, and since she made the role famous when it came out originally, it will be hard for anyone to be compared to her.” I am not really doing anything but making idle chat waiting for the next person to buy their ticket so I can rip it and tell them which way their theater is. I don’t normally work at the movie theater on Mondays, but someone called off, and I had the day off my regular job because of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

“Well,” Nick said, “I’ll tell you what I think of it,” and he walked to see the movie.

I hadn’t even thought of the conversation when suddenly, two hours later, he is standing next to me, gushing.

“It was so much better than I’d hoped it would be. Jennifer Hudson was perfect in the role.”

“They waited so long to make it, I’m sure they knew how to cast it.” I say this not to make conversation, really, just because I didn’t know what else to say.

“Beyonce was good, but she can’t hold a candle to Jennifer Hudson as a singer.” He seems to hesitate, not sure what else to say. “I can’t believe they are pushing Jennifer for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar, she clearly is a lead.”

“Oh,” I say, “I didn’t realize that is what was going on.”

There is an awkward pause, and I’m hoping more moviegoers come by so I can tear their tickets and this kid won’t hang around.

He looks at me shyly, eyes not quite meeting mine. “We could go somewhere and talk about the movie,” he says, and then much quieter “or anything else.”

I don’t know what to say. It’s not like I don’t know what is going on, but I am not comfortable, not the least because I am more than twice his age. So I decide to state that fact. “I am too old for you,” is what I say, because “You are too young” seems silly or maybe hurtful.

“I don’t mind.” He says, and the crack in his voice is almost heartbreaking to hear. I am impressed that he is this brave, and saddened that it is for not. “I like older men,” he continues with a stronger voice, almost singing it. And that is when he says “I’m a college student,” and then forced to add “almost,” with his giggle.

“I was in college before you were born,” is all I can come up with to reply, smiling at him and shaking my head.

“Well, let me have your number, and I’ll call you about the movie.” He somehow makes this sound less desperate than I imagined.

I want to tell him to run away from all the older men who will use him for a quick fuck as he hopes to find someone worthy of him. I want him to know more of the world before he rolls around, sweaty and naked, with some guy just to be able to understand that it is about age & experience sometimes. I want him to fall in love and have his heart broken, just to learn that it can be mended and he can love again.

But I don’t want to be that person. “I don’t think that is going to happen. But I’m sure I’ll see you when I work here.”

He smiles at me and walks away slowly. He stops, comes back and from his wallet pulls out some paper, picks up the pen on my desk and writes on it, and hands it to me. “If you want to call me sometime you can,” he says and walks away.

I am a bit flush with the excitement of someone flirting with me, someone so innocent that they don’t mind the 20 years difference, someone who is so new to this that they look past my flaws that are, to me, glaring. And I am saddened that I won’t be able to look at myself without seeing these perceived flaws that prevent me from being myself.

I look at the paper, and he has written his name with a big smiley face on it. Clearly, he is too young and wide eyed for someone as jaded as me. He needs to go to college and fall for an upperclassmen who will treat him well for a while before breaking his heart. Or maybe that first one will work out, and I am just a cynical old queen.

As I leave an hour later, walking through the hallways where the theaters are to exit near my car, I rip up his number, dropping little pieces in each of the garbage can. I am excited that someone was brave enough to do that, to put themselves out there, for me. But I won’t be the man to break this kids heart. And with more than 20 years between us, that is how it would end.

Good luck Nick. And good luck to me.

Could we please be objective? Cause the other boys are queuing up behind us

Food-wise, so far so good, that is all I will say. Not bad at all, though not exactly what I wanted. If I can be this good for another 8 days, I’ll be very happy. Now the challenge of the weekend is in front of me. I just need to organize my food and not eat just out of boredom!

I’ve run 4 times this week, 3 times hitting the 3.1 mile mark, and I have felt better the past two days. My sneezy, coughy snottiness seems to be getting better, so that makes me happier. I will run again tomorrow morning before I do some running around prior to working my second job.

Sadly, I forgot to take a day off of my second job, and now, as it is MLK weekend, I work the next 3 days. I can’t complain, as it will be more money, and it isn’t like I had anything planned at all to do with Carl in New York City for work this weekend and Gary in London for work for the next few months. And Kyle having himself a boyfriend, I don’t have other gay friends to go out. And I’m not sure I want to right now. I don’t know what I want. I feel like a big baby sometimes. WAH WAH!!

Gary & I went out a few weeks ago when he was back for vacation from London, and I can’t say that I enjoyed most of my time out. I just don’t seem comfortable at a club, and I think it showed. I am usually a very garrulous, outgoing guy, but get me in a room full of cute gay men & I become cold, clammy and not too talkative. That is the next thing I need to work on. Or the next thing to work on after I work on the next thing that I said I’d work on, so that will be the second next thing I work on. After I finish working on that which I am currently working. So to summarize, I will work on the weight loss/healthy plan, then I will work on better sleep more often, and THEN I will work on feeling comfortable in a gay bar.

And considering this step one, the healthy-weight-loss plan was technically started on 10/31/2005 when I started running on the treadmill, I will probably be over 40 before I start on step 3.

Yeah me.

Give me envy, give me malice, give me a-a-attention. Give me envy, give me malice, baby, give me a break!

Eating has been good so far this week. I am eating my excellent oatmeal & raisins as I type this. Last night I made a stir fry with a spicy mango sauce with those Morning Star vegetarian chicken strips and it was excellent. I could have eaten 3 bowls of it, but I stopped at one bowl.

I think my goal is to do the 1,600 calories/day for 7 days in a row. I will reevaluate where I am next Monday. I know I work at the movie theatre this weekend, so that will tempt me some. The french fries there are fantastic, and you could be working, walk past the kitchen area and swipe a handful of them without even thinking about it. Do that about 5 times during your shift and you’ve had about 1,000 empty calories.

I’ve been giving myself permission to eat what I’ve wanted on weekends. Even if I was eating lower calorie/lower fat foods, I was still eating way too much. And then, at the last minute, I’d allow myself those fries, or maybe I’d heat up some of those frozen White Castle mini-burgers on a Sunday night while watching the Eagles-Giants game. Or eat a bag of Trader Joe’s Hawaiian Style Salt & Vinegar Potato Chips while watching The Simpsons. Or three Jose Ole’ Beef & Cheese Taco’s while watching Family Guy.

So now, no more permission for this weekend. And in reality, with the way I have my life scheduled, if I do this I should be good through next Thursday. My life is regimented during the weeks, with my 10 hour work days and all. Wake up, work, come home, run, cook dinner, eat, watch some tv/do chores, go to bed. Monday through Thursday. It is the weekends that I need to work on, and it starts now (I was so going to use "The Revolution Starts Now" from Steve Earle as the title of this post, but him selling it to Chevrolet made me like that song less...so a Panic! at the Disco lyric was a better choice."

It also might be easier for me to work on it knowing that in 4 weeks from tomorrow I will be off for a 3 week trip to Thailand, where I will eat good food and not run. Too hot, and I’ll be too busy in Thailand. And I'll be on vacation. Unlike the last few years, though, once I get back from Thailand, my next trip will be maybe in August to Edmonton, and that is it. I need to spend time at home, fixing the home up and spending money on the home. Notice a theme here?

I ran 3.1 miles Monday, but I’ve slowly been getting some flu-like symptoms, and I’ve had some breathing problems. I’ve had a scratchy throat and I’ve been phlegmy and stuff, so my lungs were not doing as well yesterday. I only was able to run for 2.5 miles in my allotted 30 minutes, and I was breathing hard doing it. I’m OK with the 2.5 miles, but I hope to be able to do over 3 miles on a regular basis.

I have also done a good job getting started on one of my resolutions, getting more organized. I have worked on getting all the excess crap off my computer, all the important stuff backed up and I've saved 40 GB of hard drive space. I have a 200 GB USB back up drive that I will install as well. I've cleaned the kitchen up and my laundry area is almost clean. I don't live in filth, just in clutter. The laundry area was full of clean clothes. I clean then, pile them up, and then wear them, instead of folding them and putting them away. I need to work on the putting them away part.

I am happy with the progress I've made so far - not all at once, but at least it is a start.

No new haircut ideas as of yet. I don't think I'll get to that until after Thailand as I am going to go lollipop for Thailand.

“Hah,” Said Elphaba, “That’ll be the day,” and that was that about that.

I am just disgusted with myself. I ate horribly this past weekend. I did get back up to 3.1 miles in 30 minutes on Saturday, but the food I ate was just so bad. Or just so good but bad for me. Fuck it, I don’t want to talk about it now.

Dilemma time for me. Getting into our way back machine, let me take you back to heady days of 1991, February to be exact. I was in college, a small, Christian, liberal arts college in Pennsylvania in a small, Christian, conservative town in the middle of nowhere. George Bush was president, and we were at war in Iraq. How things change, eh?

My first boyfriend Sean & I had just broken up at the end of January. I was sad, even though I was the one who kind of started the break up (and actually had cheated on him a few months prior, so he thought we needed a break up.) It was one of those things where we fought a lot and didn’t seem to be getting along too well at the time, and we were young, so we broke up. The difference between then & today is there was no internet, or gay/straight alliances at the school, no real support for gay people. On top do that, with it being a small town, there were no gay bars anywhere around, and even if there were, Sean was 17, so he had nowhere else to go to meet guys but the college.

I wasn’t “out” to a lot of the students at the school. I was one of the proverbial “Big Fish in the Small Pond” guys: editor of yearbook, president of one association, vice president of another couple associations, acted in all the theatre productions, lettered in tennis for a couple of years. I told most of my professors that I was gay, and some of my friends knew, but most of them didn’t exactly know, though they suspected. Again, there were no Gay-Straight Alliances back then, or at least not in small, liberal arts, Christian colleges in the middle of cow country Pennsylvania. It was much more of the dark ages then. On top of that, AIDS was still regarded as only a gay disease, and it was still a death sentence.

One person who did know I was gay was Adam, another queer. He lived in same dorm as me, and we knew we were gay. There was no attraction there, so nothing ever happened between us, but we’d talk from time to time. He & I hung out in different crowds, which is tough in a college of about 920 students.

Well, on the Friday night when Sean walked out of my dorm room after we broke up, I had no one else to talk to about it. We had resolved to still be friends, but I needed to talk to someone else about it. My one gay friend had left college for a semester. Gary & I were estranged, and my other close friends, Brad & John had left for the weekend. So I called Adam. And I told him that we’d broken up, crying the whole time (I might have been a drama queen at the time, I’m not sure. Don’t remember.) Adam had met Sean a few times when we’d be around campus together, so he knew him somewhat, it wasn’t like I was telling him for the first time about us being a couple.

The following Friday, Sean & I had planned to go together prior to the break-up to some comedian or magician or some entertainer that was coming to campus. Deciding that we were still able to be friends, he showed up and we went. While there, we sat with a few other friends. Adam came up and sat down with us, and I thought he just didn’t know anyone else so sat with us. It wasn’t like he was invited by any of us sitting at the table. After the show was over, he followed us back to my dorm room, even though I really wanted to talk to Sean alone. When I got back into the room, in front of Sean & Adam, I broke down crying again, and Adam left us alone. Sean & I talked some more, tears were spilt, and life went on.

(What I didn’t notice is that Adam had slipped Sean his phone number sometime in my dorm room while I was crying my eyes out. From what I learned later from Sean, Adam wanted Sean to come back to his room that night, but my crying seemed to end that. This is called foreshadowing kinds. Learn it, love it, live it.)

Sean’s mother was a non-traditional student at the college, and I knew her from being a teacher’s assistant at the time. She knew her son was gay and knew I was gay, and she introduced us. It sounds weird typing that now, but it made sense at the time. She was handicapped and couldn’t walk well or drive a car all the time, so he would often be at the college to pick her up.

One day the next week, I saw Sean’s car in the parking lot, and went to where his mother was studying, but he wasn’t there to pick her up. After a few minutes thinking, I knew where he was. I went up to Adam’s door and knocked and knocked. I might have screamed things and made a complete ass of myself.

I got back to my room 2 floors down and called Adam’s room, and it didn’t pick up (no voice mail in those days.) I called a few more times, no answer. I kept walking across to the bathroom to look out the window and see Sean’s car still in the parking lot, so he was still there. Then it hit me to call the room as if calling form outside of the college, as it made a different ring. Sure enough, Adam answers the phone and I lay into him like a screaming banshee. I am not sure why, to be honest, but I just thought there was something wrong with Sean being in his room.

Long story short, Sean’s fling with Adam lasted a month, and we were back together by the beginning of March. Adam had wanted Sean all to himself, and after my freak-out, I was better with Sean being on campus to see a guy that wasn’t me, and Adam didn’t want Sean to see me at all. Adam was a DJ on the college radio station and even played Prince’s “The Beautiful Ones” as a dedication to Sean one night, right about the time they were breaking up. At the end of the song, Adam even said, quoting the song “Is it him or is it me?” and then said “As Prince said, it is true that ‘The beautiful ones, they hurt you every time.” Sean was in my room at the time, and we giggled over it.

We ended up dating off and on for another 2 years, living together for another year AFTER we broke up, and then, after he moved out, we hooked up from time to time. We are still friends, seeing each other from time to time, but no more hook-ups.

Well, here is my dilemma (long story for short dilemma, eh?). Adam has contacted my friend Carl, a fellow alumnus, through his My Space account and has started asking about me and if I am still “full of rage” (that was his remark) and saying he did things wrong because he was young and stupid and blah blah blah.

I am thinking that he wants to be able to contact me, and the question is do I really want that? I know he was a young guy who made some poor decisions 16 years ago to get some dick, when there was no other easy way to get it back then where we were living. I can’t say I wouldn’t do it at the time, and as I noted, I did cheat on Sean prior to this whole episode (sadly, with someone else I’d already slept with in the past), so I realize the pull of sex on a young gay men, especially when we didn’t have what we all do today.

I didn’t know Adam too well back then, and we obviously were not on speaking terms when I graduated. What good could come from cultivating a friendship with him now? Part of me is guessing that he wants some sort of forgiveness. Do I give that to him to make him feel better, or do I just ignore him and let that little piece of him feel bad forever?

(I will say that I did get a little angry at Adam right now as I was typing this and remembering it. Strange.)

They used to be just like me and you, they used to be sweet little boys. But something went horribly askew

All was going well yesterday, ate right for breakfast & lunch, got home and ran 2.3 mile sin 24 minutes, and then I got off the treadmill and for some reason was famished. I was actually shaking I was so hungry. I went and ate about 430 calories and nothing too healthy either. Then I went shopping as I was low on some of the essential foods, came home and had another 340 calories. Then I was watching some TV and had another 410 calories. I then had to have my regular ice cream sandwich before I went to bed, even though that is usually my reward for eating well all day (it is a low calorie ice cream sandwich, of course, but it still tastes fantastic) but this time, I just wanted it. I ended the day with just a hair over 2,000 calories, about 2,089 from my calculations.

And it didn’t feel like binge eating. I have done my fair share of binge eating in the past (recent past being the end of last month) and this just felt like I needed the food (except for the ice cream sandwich; that was just indulgence.) I don’t feel fatter than usual today, and actually I am down to 223 lbs as of this morning.

I don’t know where this hunger came, but I was really feeling light headed and famished. I hope I don’t have that problem again, because that was annoying, frustrating and defeating to my goal to lose more weight.

I went out to the store after I ate, and I saw this woman in one of those scooters. She looked to be about mid 40’s, and was morbidly obese, and I just didn’t understand that. Is there really some type of medical problem for people, or are they lazy? Did they eat too much when they were younger, get somewhat fat, then slowed down their metabolism so bad that they were gaining weight at an alarming rate, assumed they had some medical problem, became more immobile due to their weight, and once they became immobile, they gained weight even faster, and now the only way they can go through a store is on a motorized vehicle?

I find that hard to believe that all these morbidly obese people on scooters in stores all have some thyroid problem. I think they could eat less, exercise and lose weight. I do believe that people have a predisposition to be heavier, but they can do something about it. They allow themselves to gain weight. I am predisposed to be heavier, but I know how to stop it. I just don’t think I believe the people who say they have a medical problem are actually doing everything they can in order to lose weight.

Am I wrong here?

Speeding through the universe, thinking is the best way to travel

Getting back into my routine of running and eating well. Only did 2 miles in 20 minutes again last night on the treadmill, and the ankle is feeling much better. So today, I am going to run 25 minutes, 2.5 miles. And then, the plan is to be back up to 3 miles in 30 minutes by Monday.

I am now having some problems getting up in the mornings. I usually work 10 hour days, and I am at work at 6:45 am, which means I wake up at 5:30 am. I had 10 days off from my regular job, and with the holiday Monday, I only have to work 8 hours per day this week (though I do have to work on Friday, and I DON’T WORK ON FRIDAYS!!). For some reason, when the alarm goes off at 5:30 am this week, I’ve had a habit of turning it off. Not hitting snooze, turning it off.

So now I’ve been getting up around 6:00 or 6:30 am, and not getting to work until 7:30 am or later. I don’t like that at all, when I could be home at 3:30-ish if I’d just wake up, but I can’t seem to do that. I need to work on that. Sleep is as important to good health as eating correctly.

I had Pad Thai last night for dinner, and it made me want to be in Bangkok again so bad. There is this little restaurant I’ve been to in Bangkok that has the best Pad Thai…

Only 5 weeks to go before I leave for Thailand with my nephew. And only 5 weeks and 1 ½ days until we finally reach Bangkok. It is a long flight over the Pacific Ocean, but I have done it before, so I know what to expect – hours and hours of pure boredom! I am interested to see how my nephew handles the trip. He has never taken an airplane before, and I think the long flight will be tough for him.

When I took my niece to Paris, she realized that she had a fear of flying while we were on the plane, and so she decided she would be safer if she just didn’t leave her seat. Not sure what it is she thought that would accomplish, but she wasn’t budging from the seat until we landed at Charles de Gaul Airport (and Newark International Airport on the way back.) What this meant is that she made a point of not drinking anything so that she wouldn’t have to use the restroom.

Thomas isn’t going to have that luxury. Our flight from Chicago to Tokyo is 13 ½ hours. He will have to pee at some point during that flight. Unless he wears a diaper, but I am not sitting next to someone wearing a diaper. At least not if I paid for the ticket.

So far, the US government has not issued a Travel Warning about traveling in Thailand. Travel Warnings are issued when the State Department recommends you avoid a certain country. Lebanon, Algeria, Iran, Haiti, Columbia & Indonesia among others are on that list. A Current Public Announcement has been issued, to expire 01/31/07, for Thailand, and this is an announcement to disseminate information about possible threats to US Citizens that usually regard specific information and specific time frames.

The State Department does advise US citizens “to continue to monitor events closely, to remain indoors when possible, to avoid any large public gatherings, and to exercise discretion when moving about Bangkok.” We will be in Bangkok for like 3 days, so I am alright with that. So far, the trip is still on and I, for one, am very excited about going!

I promise you anything; get me out of this hell. Cold turkey has got me on the run

With some lingering ankle problems, and not having run as much in the past month, I only ran 20 minutes yesterday after work, 2 miles total. I had some cramps, but it was the throbbing ankle that made me slow down.

I ate quite well yesterday, with fruits in yogurt & fruit in cottage cheese for breakfast, a chicken burrito & mango for lunch, and some minestrone soup, asparagus and a veggie cheeseburger for dinner. It was about 1400 calories after the ice cream sandwich snack at night.

After cleaning up a bit last night, I sat down to watch some TV. With nothing new or interesting on (and since I devoured all 12 episodes of “Dexter” while on vacation last week) I decided to peruse the On Demand option from Comshaft. As there was nothing else on, I watched an episode of “Intervention.” For those uninitiated, this is a show where the cameras follow around addicts (drug/alcohol) as the family prepares to have an intervention. It seems unclear to me, but I think the show will pay for the 90 day rehab at different rehab facilities. This is only the second episode I’d ever seen.

Anywho, I was watching last night, and it was a story of Tim, a really, really hot guy who was addicted to crack and his really, really hot girlfriend Madyson (spelled that way, too, and lead singer in a band) who was not addicted to crack, but enabled him to be addicted to crack while he was running her musical career. The cameras followed him as he smoked crack, forgot things, acted like a paranoid freak, felt sick one minute and fine the next minute, attacked his girlfriend’s father for money, and then ended up lying in a sewage pipe crying his eyes out until the producer coaxed him out.

As I said, this was the second time I’ve seen an episode of this show. The first time was about 2 months ago, and I cried like a baby as the 2 people profiled went through their addiction, and then the family intervened, and they both went to rehab. I thought that the families handled it well but strong, told both of them that if they didn’t stop using now, the relationship, whatever it was, would end. I thought these people were real, dealing with real problems.

On this episode, it just seemed so fake. Not the crack smoking, but the whole thing seemed contrived. First off, Madyson was 20 years old, and Tim was 8 or 9 years older than her, and she was so intent on taking care of him. Secondly, he had some early success in his life as a singer/musician with Electra Records, and she wanted to have success of any kind in the music business. It made me think that she was using him to run her career, and when he turned into crack-boy, she still wanted him to be her break into the business we call show. Also, after his own parent’s threw him out for crack addiction, her parents let him move into their house 18 months prior to the show, which meant Maddy (as he called her) was all of about 18 years old at the time he moved into her house.

Alright, so I am a liberal guy and all, but allowing your 18 year old daughter’s 26 year old, crack addicted boyfriend to move in AFTER HIS OWN PARENT’S KICKED HIM OUT is a serious red flag. This is clear that there is a problem. But then, the parents said “We thought Tim would be able to help Madyson get to that next level in her career…” and trailed off. That is when my own red flag raised about these people.

When Tim was in the sewer, in his agony and pain of withdrawal and crying over the heart ache of possibly losing his Madyson, he stopped crying, turned around and made sure the camera was still on him. REG FLAG!

It was so fake looking that I started laughing at all the hyperbole. (These are all paraphrasing as I have no patience to watch it again and get the lines exact, and I am not wasting any time looking up transcripts online.)

Tim: “I’d rather die than live without Maddy.” (Although he’d rather smoke crack then be with Madyson.)

Madyson: (to the Intervention Counselor) “Tim is my whole life, and I love him so much, I can’t promise not to see him again if this intervention fails” (Unless he can’t help my music career, then I’ll drop him like a booger.)

Tim: (singing the song he wrote in rehab to Madison) “You gave me reason to stop and live.” (Until I can get out of this place and score myself some crack!)

Madyson: “If he could stop using, we’d be able to live a normal life.” (A normal life where he helps me make millions by signing with my boobs pushed out.)

It was utterly pathetic. It made me that this was all going to be used as a publicity stunt to make their musical careers take off. It made me think that, if Tim got clean and sober, they would release and album called “Love Got Me Clean & Sober” and somehow every talk show would show images from the show of Maddy trying help him, and Tim sleeping in the sewers. And they would be on Oprah telling how tough it was, and they have proof as A&E watched him smoke crack. And he’d write several songs about how hard it was to quit crack.

And then I’d have to vomit right there in my living room. Or hunt them and then vomit on them. And as much as that would help me lose weight, it wouldn’t be worth it.

After rehab, Tim went back to live with Madyson and her parents, went back to smoking crack, was kicked out and moved back into his parents house, and hasn’t seen Madyson since February 2006. The final note of the show was that Tim says he hasn’t used crack since September 26, 2006. Of course the show originally aired in December, so I am not hopeful.

I don’t understand addiction. I live a normal life, pay my bills, own a home, try to exercise and eat right, help take care of my family, and have never been tempted by crack, meth, heroin, speed or any other illegal drug. And I’ll never be on Oprah and be told how brave I am for not doing drugs. Even though I’ve never done it. Ever.

I tell you that we'll all be looking for changes

I am actually glad to be back at my regular job. Not only was it not fun to be running around the movie theater for 73 hours in 11 days, but it wasn’t fun to work with all those whiney teenagers & even whinier customers! I don’t know if there is just a sense of privilege in the workers at the theater or younger people in general, but it seemed so pervasive throughout the workforce under 30. (I heard several of my co-workers say “I don’t get paid enough money to do [insert what the considered menial task.]” To which I would reply “What do you normally charge to do [insert what the considered menial task.]” And they would never have an answer, because they don’t have other jobs. Fucking idiots.)

I started off today at 227 lbs. I started off the new year heavier than I once was, lighter than I’ll be (at least I am hopeful.) I am ready for the challenges of a new day, a new year and a new Mike. OK, that last part was a bit cheesy, but I am sticking by that statement.

I have a habit of being, well, lazy. Or, if not exactly lazy, then being comfortable with the status quo in just about everything. If all things are in their proper place that I use on a regular basis in my life, then I feel that there is no need to move and empty boxes that don’t get in my way. I bought and moved into my house in May 2006, and there still are stacks of boxes. I have put these in my basement or the spare bedroom, so they are out of my way and, therefore, no need to worry about them. But still, they are there. And most of it is shit I’ve carried around for years that I should be able to either get rid of or consolidate and store properly.

So for 2007, I have some goals, and, unlike prior years, I am actually going to put them in writing and work towards their completion.

1. I will get down to 205 lbs. I know this doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it is. My lowest weight in 2006 was 216 lbs. I am currently 21 lbs away from that goal, and I know, with the right amount of exercise and proper eating, I could get to 205 lbs.

2. Organize, organize, organize. Everything from boxes in my house to cleaning everything to bills to be paid to getting all the proper things done to the car (currently, the inspection is overdue on my car because I just didn’t think to get it done before Sunday evening) needs to be organized. My life isn’t organized outside of my vacations (I know on most vacations will I will on what day a month or so in advance of leaving for the trip), and I need to get to the point where it is, and I will start that this year.

3. I will change my hairstyle. As Gary was nice enough to point out last Friday night, I have had the same hairstyle since I’ve known him. That is about 17 years too long for one hairstyle, and in reality 18 ½ years as I changed my hair the summer from high school to college. And the only change then was that I parted it in the side instead of the middle. I usually don’t use any type of product on my hair. I use the same shampoo (Head & Shoulders) that I have for about 15 years, and the same conditioner (Dove Intense Moister) for the past 5 years. I haven’t seen a need to change either of these, but maybe I do. Maybe I need to change all things in all of my hair care routine. I’ll have to check into that.

So that will be my 2007. I just need to be focused and work towards success. And run.