God, do I feel guilty. I haven't posted in several days. But wait, I do have an excuse. I moved today. The movers came and took my belongings away and left me with a mess of an apartment that I will clean tomorrow. So my excuse for not writing is that I have been spending every spare moment getting ready for this move.

And it was the worst move ever. It took almost 10 hours for the movers to take the belongings of my one bedroom apartment, put them on a truck and move them cross town to my friend T.M.'s garage where they will live for two months. 10 hours. Why 10 hours.


The movers arrived 3 hours late because of some problem they had with a move from yesterday. So instead of arriving at 8 they were at my apartment at 11. Two guys and a truck. Except it turns out it was only 1.5 guys and a truck. James, I find out is new and has never done this before. Fine, so it'll start slow but get better, I mean everyone has moved either a friend or themselves. There's not that much to learn. What I didn't bargain for is the unnaturally hot San Diego weather that we have been having. It was in the 90's today. This is unbearable in a city that never sees the temperature above 70. So poor James, he started to melt almost immediately, and began saying things like "It's hot, and the hot makes me tired". I am translating loosely since he spoke hardly a word of English. Not that I mind once again, anyone can be a mover. But as the day wore on it only got worse, until Frederico the boss guy comes to me and says "James is done, he can't take it anymore I am sending him home. It's now 1:00 p.m. and they've barely started. So now instead of 1.5 guys, I am down to 1. I am told that a replacement is on the way, and i try and stay calm, ignoring the fact that I am paying a ridiculous hourly rate for these guys.

It's now 1:30, did I mention the replacement is on the way. Now it's 2:00 and the replacement is on the way. 2:30 still coming. 3:00 not here yet. 3:30 he just left the office. 4:00 he's only about 10 minutes away. 4:30 ah, here you are. It's only 3.5 hours later that they finally get me someone. Turns out he's the boss of the San Diego office. Also turns out that he has to do all of his end of day paperwork while he's at my house so I still only have 1 mover and the day is wasting away and did I mention that I have plans to have dinner with a couple friends followed by the going to the theatre.

At 6:30 finally the last of my belongings are on the truck. What I haven't mentioned yet is the argument I have had with the boss who tells me for my aggravation they are taking off 10 dollars an hour to make me happy. I go ballistic. I ask him how 70 dollars is going to help offset the fact that my move is still not finished and the whole thing should have taken four hours start to finish. He just glares at me, I glare at him and we agree that we'll discuss at the end of the day, which is fine except that I am scared I am going to get a bill for 2,000 bucks for a move that should have cost 500.

So I give them directions to T.M's house and off we go. Did I mention that drive time is calculated at double time and it's now rush hour and we are driving 10 miles on the freeway. Did I also mention that it's 6:30 and I haven't eaten all day. So I get in my car and stop and get food and a soda and then drive to T.M.'s. It's now almost 7:00. No truck. It's almost 7:30 before they show up with my stuff. And now in case you haven't noticed, dinner plans have been cancelled and I'm supposed to be sitting in my seat at the theatre at 8:00. Yeah, those plans are down the drain as well.

It takes them another 2 hours to unload the truck. So now my day is shot. I am pissed, I am tired. (I didn't mention that I went to bed at 5:30 a.m. because I was doing the last of my packing.) I am hungry. I want a beer and I want all of this to not cost me a million dollars.

In the end it worked out okay. We negotiated times and costs until we found terms that we both would live with. The move cost more than it should have, but it didn't come anywhere close to my fears. I got dinner with T.M. which included two beers. Came home, had some ice-cream and am now blogging and am about to fall asleep at my computer. It has been one VERY long day. But the first part of the move is over. I leave for Portland, Maine on Sunday and then fly to NYC on July 10.

Thanks for listening to my rant. I apologize now for my worse than normal spellnig, grammar and anything else that doesn't make sense. I'll be more coherent tomorrow.

I have to confess that I like country music. As a child my brother and I were exposed to artist such as Loretta Lynn, Charlie Pride, Hank Williams (the original), Merle Haggard, Roy Clark, Buck Owens, Dolly Parton and the list goes on. As with most things I like, I do it in phases. One day it's all I listen to and then I go months without even thinking about it.

Today was a listen to country music sort of day. I was surfing radio stations and came up on KSON in San Diego. I am aware of the station, I listened to it a lot when I first moved here. So I am driving home from dinner with the windows rolled down and the warm summer wind is blowing and I am enjoying the country music. And then...

A politically conservative song comes on. What happened to country songs about wrecking your truck, or getting dumped? Or songs about being from the mountains, or a gambler or crazy. Today it seems like every third song is a flag waving, fuck the Taliban, red-state lovin' anthem. Do you think that it has never occurred to the broadcasters, dj's and the station owners that we are all not conservative. What's even worse is they don't even give equal air time. Many stations still don't play the Dixie Chicks and who's ever heard of a liberal country song.

The song that I heard tonight was called Politically Uncorrect. Here's link to the lyrics if you want to see what the songs about.I however didn't change the station right away. I listened to the song. One of the few things I remember about a religion class I took in undergrad was the Southern Baptist Minister saying if you want to make an argument you better know everything there is to know about the other guys point of view. So I listened, and tried to be calm, but the more I listened the angrier I got. What pisses me off the most is that there is a shared belief amongst most conservatives that if I criticize the President I am against the flag. If I criticize the war then I am against the soldiers. If I criticize religion I am against the Bible. If I don't support tax cuts for the wealthy then I am against the working man.

In truth all of this is unfounded. I will never support this President, but I'd be the first to sign up to fight if the war were justified. I will never support this war, but I want nothing more than for every man and woman serving in the military to come home safely. Although I have been turned against organized religion because of the insane beliefs that most of them support, I do have a faith in a God of my choosing and trust me he/she/it is not an angry judgmental God. And let's face it I can use 200 dollars as much as the next person but I also know there isn't near enough money for education, health care, and other beneficial programs that many of us rely on. And yet if we listen to what country stations say I Hate America.

And so at the end of the song I turned the radio off and decided the that maybe listening to country music on the way home wasn't such a great idea after all. So I called my ex-boyfriend C.T. (you read about him last weekend) to find out how his first Denver Pride was. I am not angry now. I am sad. It truly depresses me to think half the country really has no tolerance for me. They don't believe I have a right to the privileges that are guaranteed me by the Constitution. They believe that I am evil and that untold bad things are destined to come to me. And what makes me most sad is how much everyone I know who disagrees with conservatives support the Conservative Right's right to their opinion.

I am awake! Not that I don't wake up everyday, but as most of my friends will tell you I rarely see 8 a.m. I am not a morning person, have never been a morning person, will NEVER be a morning person. Today, I am a morning person.

The night started out great. I went to bed early (for me). I think I turned the light out around 12:30 and was well on my way to going to sleep when I was awakened by something. I don't know what it was, and will probably never know, but now it's 2:00 and I am awake. After a couple of minutes of tossing and turning I go back to sleep and this is when it starts. I mentioned about a week ago that I have started taking full doses of my depression meds again. One of the short lived side effects of my meds is that I have psychotic dreams. Kind of like taking acid before you go to bed. Last night the dreams were insane. I dreamed that I was an animal (what kind, I don't know) and was having these fights with other animals. And in the dream if I went to sleep for more than a couple of minutes then the other animals would get me. So in my sleep, I kept waking up, which I did for real. I would toss and turn and go back to sleep and it would start all over again. This does not make for a restful night.

Finally, at 4:00 I get up, drink some Diet Coke (without caffeine, my favorite) and go back to bed. This stopped these dreams but began a whole other series of dreams that involved being awake and tossing and turning, except this time I got to be naked with a cute boy. Unfortunately, I was the only one naked and people he worked with kept coming in to give him information.

At 6:30 I rolled over and looked at the clock. For a moment there was pure panic because I thought it 6:30 p.m. and I have miles of packing to do for my move to New York. Then I realized it was a.m. and said "Fuck It" and got out of bed. Thus it's 9:00 a.m. and I've already had coffee (which meant going to Starbucks cause my coffee makers already been packed), posted a blog, read all the blogs I read, called my friend T.M. to point out that I can indeed be out of bed before noon and answered several emails.

Oh God, it's going to be a productive day...

Do you know the only thing worse than being hung over? Feeling hung over without the fun of getting drunk. I didn't get to bed until after 6 a.m. this morning. I would love to say it involved lots of alcohol and well hung men but the truth is it didn't.

I stayed up talking to my friend J.T. the most innocent, naive girl in the world. For her the world is always sunshine and lollipops. Sometimes so much so it annoys you but not last night.

J.T. is a stage manager and is currently working on a production here in San Diego. The show has been going terribly for a number of reasons. Of course this has nothing to do with the leading lady, who is on stage for 98% of the show not knowing her lines, her blocking, sometimes that she's even on stage. It's also not because the director is an absolute bitch that everyone involved on the show hates. Nope, the play being terrible has nothing to do with these two things.

So last night I invited J.T. over to have a gin and tonic, (her favorite) and eat ice cream, and watch High School Musical. J.T. is the only person I know who would actually be willing to commit an evening to watching this movie. First off, it's a musical and most of my friends think that musicals are the death of theatre. And second, it's a Disney Musical so NO ONE is going to watch that.

So we gathered in front of the t.v. and started. We laughed, we cried and had a blast. The movie is not very long but we kept rewinding the DVD to make sure that what we thought we saw, actually happened. The movie is filled in inaccuracies and moments of complete and total disbelief. And yet, we watched and watched and watched. Unable to turn our eyes, kind of like driving by a car accident. The only way the movie could have been better is if we had watched the sing-a-long version instead of the normal version.

After the movie, I convinced J.T. that having another cocktail would be great idea and she could just crash on the sofa. And then we started talking, and talking, and talking. We talked about her family. We talked about the physical pain that is caused to me when I witness any kind of unfaithfulness, even in a movie. We talked about how we all know our friends T.O. and A.N. are sleeping together and yet no one is supposed to know. Especially, since T.O. has a girlfriend in Pennsylvania. We talked about school. We talked and talked. And 5:30 I finally told her that I had to go to bed.

And to bed I went. The big mistake I made was not turning off the ringer to my phone before I went to sleep. Because I had no more than dozed off when the phone calls started. S.H., A.C., J.M. (who annoyed me by not leaving a message). So I finally dragged my ass out of bed to listen to my messages, return my calls and try to start my day. I did this three times before I actually got out of bed for good.

So now it's 11 p.m. and I feel exhausted, hung over, and beaten up. And yet I wouldn't trade last night for the world. I only have a few more nights left in San Diego and I am trying to enjoy them with friends as much as I can. To make the most of them. Live life to the fullest. I don't always succeed but I am doing my best. This time next week I'll be in Portland, Maine and my time in San Diego will be nothing but memories. Okay I am getting sappy and stupid. I am going to bed.

See you tomorrow.

Next Thursday the movers are coming to move my stuff to my friend T.M.'s garage. It'll be in storage for two months while my new roommate C.Z. and I find a new apartment. It's not the best arrangement but it's free and it buys us some time to find the right place.

On Wednesday night after several days of procrastinating I started packing. My current roommate S.S. moved last Friday so as I pack boxes I am stacking them in her room which is now empty. So there I was packing away and in the middle of a trip to her room when I saw the light come on in the apartment across from us and the blinds were wide open. The neighbor's building is really rather close to ours with probably not more than 30 feet from window to window. When the light came on I realized the person in the room was naked and that it was the bathroom. Not wanting to seem like a weirdo, I quickly turned out the light and shut the door.

Of course at this point I should mention that I hadn't left the room. I then snuck over to the window and watched as my neighbor jacked-off in his bathroom mirror with no regard for the fact that he was putting on a show. Because of the reflection in the mirror I had a clean shot (no pun intended, hehehe) at his erection. This went on for almost 10 minutes until he shot all over the counter, cleaned himself up, turned off the light and went to bed. I know this because my bedroom window looks into his bedroom window.

WOW! Not bad for the first night of packing. Needless to say it has made me anxious to spend more time packing in S.S.'s room. It also makes me think that I perhaps took the wrong room when we moved in. Have I been missing my own private little shows since moving here? How long has this been going on? Has S.S. been holding out on me.

Enough typing I have to go do some packing...in S.S.'s room of course.

There has been a challenge for people to post this photograph on their blogs to remind people that as Gay Pride approaches that we are both proud to be Gay as well as proud to be American. And like it or not we are here to stay and it's just that diversity that makes the U.S. such a great place to live.

A big thanks goes out to this guy for the initial challenge.

So I have realized in the past couple of days that it's Gay Pride in New York City this week/weekend. I have been so much removed from it the last two years I had almost completely forgotten. For the moment I am still living in San Diego and Pride here is the last week of July and although a fun filled event, it doesn't compare to Pride in NYC.

I can't help but think back on the first Pride parades I watched. I had just moved to New York, and although knew a few people from work, for the most part I had no community of my own. I was waiting tables at the time and would always ask for the day off and would wander down 5th Avenue until I found my spot (somewhere around 12 Street). I would stand and watch the parade with goosebumps and think that someday I would be a part of the greater community and not some lone person standing on the steps of an apartment building with no one to share the day with.

I eventually found my community, which included having people to watch the parade with. In fact I marched in the 2003 parade with my boyfriend D.L.C. We marched with the 12 Step/Sober group that was at the front of the parade. I am not an alcoholic but my boyfriend at the time was and we wanted to march with a group that we felt connected to. It was an exhilarating experience walking by those thousands of people who were cheering us on. It's the first and only time I felt completely a part of the gay community.

Much has changed since that summer. I moved to San Diego to pursue my graduate degree. D.L.C. dumped me (I'll post on that sometime I am sure) my friends continued their lives in NYC without me, and time moved on. It's been three years since that summer and I can't wait to get back to NYC and find that connection again. In the past couple of months I have been reaching out to some of my old friends. S.H. has been a huge wealth of support and guidance. Which is funny because when I moved from NYC he had just found out he was HIV+ and barely paying the rent. He's now healthier than ever, and has started his own company that appears as though it's going to do insanely well.

So I sit here melancholy about what has been. I want to go back to the NYC I was living in when I left. I know that I'll find my way back there. But I want it now. I don't want to go back to the city and be an unknown. I don't want to go back and have less money than I had before, less friends, less connections. I think that's why I have been putting off packing my things for the past week. I know that things are not going to be the way that I want them to be. I am going to have to begin again. Not from scratch because this time I have people that I have maintained connections with while I have been gone, but different all the same.

In the meantime, I try to remind myself why I left NYC in the first place. I try to remind myself that although not in NYC, my graduate school experiences were the best they could possibly be and the wealth of knowledge that I gained was worth every penny that I borrowed to get them. I just have to stay the course and know that within a few days/weeks/months/years I'll find myself being one of the gang again and life will be better than ever.

Normally I finish my day by posting to my blog. It's become my new routine in the past couple of weeks. However that was not the case last night. And why you ask?

As I have mentioned several times, I finished grad school on March 25th. What I haven't mentioned is that I haven't really worked since then. If you do the math that's three months worth of unemployment except you're not qualified to receive unemployment when you finish school. Now I could give you all of the reasons that I have told myself, my friends and my family as to why I haven't worked but I am beginning to realize that it's mostly a bunch of bull. Truth is I was too proud to get a "temporary" job in San Diego because I knew that I was moving soon to New York.

It's not like I have wasted all of this time. I have done three shows that all pay a small amount. I presented my work at showcases in New York and L.A. In truth that's about all I have done. I have watched a lot of t.v., cruised for cute men at the "Watering Hole" and eaten a bunch of crap that's not good for me.

Now all of this would have been fine and dandy if I had money, came from money, or had a rich boyfriend to support me. But the truth is I have been broke for most of the past three months. I have been scraping by little by little with the shows I've done, by selling the last of the stocks that I own, and begging for money from my friend M.L. who makes more money than anyone I know. Actually he's more than a friend but that's a post for another day that'll take about 8 hours to tell.

The long and the short of it though, is that I haven't been paying my bills. I have been paying what had to be paid, and just enough to keep them from turning off the utilities. Well, I missed the notice about the internet and it was disconnected yesterday. At 7:30 last night when I called repair I was routed to collections and not repair where I was told that if I wanted service I had to pay my bill.

This is where things get tricky. I sold my car two weeks ago. It was a 2005 Honda Accord that I owned outright. The sell of the car was pure profit. What I didn't know when I sold it was that my bank would put an 11 day hold on the check. So for two weeks I have been scrounging by with money in the bank that I can't access. The hold should be lifted any day now and I'll be able to bring everything current. But until then I am counting every penny and cutting as many corners as I can to make it.

So now I am stealing. Someone in my neighborhood has a wireless internet connection that's not password protected. So I am borrowing some of their bandwidth to keep up to date with my favorite blogs and post my own. So I just have to hang on till that check clears and I get to NYC and start making real money. Oh wait, did I tell you that I was a lighting designer. There will be no real money. I just hope to have a good time while I make it.

Most of my friends know without a doubt about my opinion of Wal-Mart. The last time I shopped there was November 2003 and it would take no small miracle to get me to shop there again. The Wal-Mart Corporation is evil. There is no other way to describe the company policies and their business practices. They look out for the corporate dollar and no one else. God forbid someone get in their way. If anything signals the coming of the apocalypse it's the arrival of the devil known as Wal-Mart.




For more Wal-Mart information please check out: WakeUpWalmart.com

I had coffee today with my ex-boyfriend C.T. We dated over a year ago and it was a short lived affair. From start to finish it lasted about three months and we broke up about 400 times during that time. I figured out very early that C.T. was not my "soul mate" but I had to prove it to myself over and over and over again. Truth is, C.T. doesn't really need a boyfriend at all. What he really likes is the idea of a boyfriend, but isn't quite prepared for the work that is entailed with keeping a relationship functioning in a happy healthy way. It also doesn't help that his best friend, A.L. is a 60 year old gay man who dotes on him like only a mother should. It's borders on inappropriate. A.L. has never been in a relationship, and didn't come out of the closet until about two and a half years ago. Together they are both messes.

Long story short, I don't like A.L. It's not just one reason, it's many. He wears too much cologne. He insists on kissing you on the lips when he sees you. He's rude to the wait staff. He has an opinion about all of C.T.'s friends and boyfriends and doesn't approve of most of us. He so loud everyone in the restaurant knows your business. And the real winner...to see C.T. you must see A.L. For going on more than a year I have not see C.T. alone. If we make plans for dinner guess who's there. Plans for coffee. My graduation and dinner that followed. My 40th birthday party. A.L is always there whether A.L's been invited or not.

Turns out it's not just me who see this as a problem. C.T's last boyfriend got a wake up call when they moved to Denver and A.L. announced that he was quitting his job and moving there too. This still hasn't happened but it just supports my opinion of how inappropriate this relationship is. Of course C.T. wasn't able to hang on to this boyfriend because he just couldn't drink and stick to that whole monogamous thing.

Perhaps I should suggest that C.T. and A.L. get together as a couple. A.L. could dote on C.T.,while he treats him like shit. Sounds like the perfect couple and would then at least explain why I get A.L. when I see C.T. and would take C.T. off the market so he would stop convincing boys they need to date him so he could treat them like crap, cheat on them, and destroy their worlds.

But I am not bitter.

Can I pose a question? Sort of? When giving head, am I giving or receiving pleasure and who's needs are to be met. This is of course rhetorical. In no way would it have anything to do with what happened to me on Friday night.

Let's just say I was at a certain establishment that we'll just call "The Watering Hole." And let's just say that I was joined in my private booth by one nameless individual who was very well endowed. And let's just say that we were in the course of trading blow jobs, when I placed my hand on the back of his head to encourage the procedure that he was currently engaged in. And this is where the question comes in. He got pissed off. He suddenly stood up, growled at me about leaving his head alone, pulled up his pants and left. Now I understand that we all have our fetishes, our wants and needs. But how was I to know that this would upset him. I wasn't trying to be all "aggressive" on his ass. I just wanted him to continue doing what he was doing. Which brings me to my question. When I am giving head it's all about the other person. I have things I like them to do, but it's not about me it's really about them. So if suddenly they force my head down on their prick, or squeeze my nipples, or just ignore me all together well that's for them to decide. I figure if and when they return the favor I'll get mine. Am I completely confused about how all of this works. Have I spent years giving away pleasure when I should have been insisting that it be about me. What's the answer? How will I know. Should I always keep my hands to myself. Is everyone going to react this way? Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!

So much for being almost cured and out of therapy. This will take years to work thru.

I moved my roommate yesterday. Sort of. I actually helped put her stuff (all 15 boxes of it) into storage. It took about an hour and a half and I got dinner out of it, so I am not complaining. The nicest part of the deal is that for the next two weeks I live alone. So as I sit here naked and type my blog I don't have to worry about being disturbed by S.S. or anyone for that matter. I can type and stick to the chair, and scratch my balls. Okay so I am not actually naked but I did get your attention, didn't I? I rarely wander around my apartment naked except for the wee hours of the morning when I get up to pee, or get a drink. For the past year, it's been my fear that I would be standing at the fridge in all my splendor and S.S. would decide that she needed a drink of water at the same time. This never happened but it did make for some stressful dashes to the kitchen and back. Of course, I could have thrown on a pair of shorts but what's life if you can't live on the edge.

So now I am on my own. For what good it's doing me. I have two weeks to pack up all of my belongings and get them into storage at my friend T.M.'s house. My worldly possessions are going to live with him until I come back from NYC in August to do two shows in San Diego. After which, I will load everything on one very large U-Haul and drive cross country back to Manhattan. Hopefully by then my new roommate and I will have a brand new two bedroom apartment in upper Manhattan and I will officially resume my residence in the great city of New York.

I saw a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream tonight at The Old Globe in San Diego. Actually it was a dress rehearsal but considering it was free I won't get technical. Get it dress rehearsal--technical? If you are not laughing get one of your theatre friends to explain it to you. The show was incredible. Darko Tresnjak has created a beautiful piece of theatre. I have seen the show many times, but for the first time I think this production actually captured the magic of the story. From the first entrance, to the fairy dance at the end, the show grabs your inner child and leads you on a journey of wonder. So if any of your live in San Diego and have the opportunity to see the show once it opens I highly recommend it.

I have discovered since I began writing about my world that my life isn't very funny. It's not boring. But it really is rather ordinary. Now I suppose that I should be thankful that it's not tragic. I didn't fall down and break my leg today. I didn't total my car. I didn't break up with my boyfriend. Yes, I am just an ordinary gay man, making my way thru life trying to make the best of things. But I want to be funny. I want cute, interesting things to say about my experiences. But, when I sit down to write the best I can do is be honest and open and hope that what I have to say intrigues someone enough to keep reading. In the meantime I'll start making notes to myself about the things that happen to me that could be construed as funny.

Question: Has anyone else noticed how cute the boys are at the Costco in Mission Valley? I sometimes shop there when I have nothing to buy just for the eye candy. I mean really, how many rolls of toilet paper does one man need?

Dreamgirls

When I happened upon this at about 4:30 this morning, I laughed my ass off. I think he may be better than Jennifer Holiday. What do you think?

It's amazing to me how I can fill my days with absolutely nothing and still not have time to take out the garbage. Even worse is how tired I am from doing nothing all day. I graduated from grad school on March 25th. Yes, it was a wonderful day and I had worked my ass off in the days leading up to graduation with writing my thesis, presenting, and defending it. It took hours of work and tons of money to get that little piece of paper with my name on it followed by the three little letters M.F.A.

And that's when the hard work stopped. For the last two and a half months my schedule has been mostly my own. I have done a couple of small shows, presented my portfolio in conferences on the east and west coast and well that's about it. I manage to do nothing most days quite successfully without even trying.

Take today for example. I didn't get to bed last night (or should I say this morning) until 5 a.m. It's not like I was doing anything constructive or even destructive for that matter. In the past few days I have discovered YouTube.com. I'd love to say that I discovered it myself. But the truth is, I happened upon a blog (sorry I don't remember its URL) but on it were posted daily Tony Award video clips from YouTube. When I discovered there were hundreds if not thousands of clips from Broadway shows on YouTube how could I not explore. Long story short, at 5 this morning I tore myself away from my computer and went to bed. I finally dragged my lazy ass out of bed at 1:30 after running two marathons in my sleep. This is no joke. I dreamed I ran two races. In the first I did extremely well, the second I was too tired to keep up.

Once I got out of bed. I managed to move to my computer where I cruised the internet looking at more video clips, blogs, the news, etc. until almost 4:30. I then grabbed a quick shower, and raced off to meet my friend C.D. and his fiancee E.M. for dinner. That lasted about two hours and was followed by a little trip to a place my friend T.M. and I call the "Watering Hole". It's actually an adult bookstore with a "theatre" that's a little on the dark side where consenting adults (mostly men) can gather to discuss sports and the weather. After a couple of hours cruising there, I decided to see a legitimate movie, The Breakup. And that brings me to present.

And dammit, I am exhausted. If it weren't for the fact that Jon Stewart comes on in ten minutes, I would already be on my way to bed. I have to get plenty of rest so I can do the same thing tomorrow. I keep telling myself tomorrow will be the day I get back on the horse and start getting work done. Then I sleep late, and well it's just too late in the day to be productive so I put it off for one more day. Of course all of this will change once I get to NYC because I'll be busy looking for work, pounding the pavement trying to get someone to hire me either as a designer or an assistant. The problem is I need to prep for that work. I need to get my resumes updated. New business cards printed. My website cleaned up.

Aw, how do I break out of this cycle? How do I turn over a new leaf and begin being productive again. Tune in tomorrow, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel, and I let you know what conclusions I have come to.

In the meantime, it's time for a Diet Coke (caffeine-free) and Jon Stewart.

The Banana God

God has spent a lot of time making sure some things are made to fit into my hand, with a point at the top for ease of entry and just the right shape for the human mouth. The whole thing testifies to the genius of god's creation.

My entire life I have dealt with depression. I have been on more medication than I care to think about. It took years to find a combination of drugs that actually helped. I have been taking these drugs for about 4 years and they have been life changing. The side effects are minimal and I am able to embrace the fact that I'll probably have to deal with medication the rest of my life.

That was until my health insurance ran out. Retail cost of the four medications together is about 600 dollars a month. Knowing that I couldn't afford the total cost of my meds, my doctor and I came up with the idea that I would slowly take myself off most of them, only remaining on the two that seem to work the best. Unfortunately, even this has proven to be more costly than I can afford. The one med that has helped the most is almost 300 dollars on it's own. Being a recent graduate and more or less unemployed I have stopped taking all but one of them and even the one remaining I have decreased my amount by more than half, hoping that a little was better than none.

At times in my life my depression has been debilitating. I once spent 3 weeks in bed unable to function in any sort of a normal way. During that three weeks, the worst of my life, I teetered on the brink of suicide just wanting the pain to go away. I wanted to be able to feel like a normal person. Finally my therapist and psychiatrist were able to work together and get me to a place where I could at least function. However, I still dealt with horrible bouts of depression and it wouldn't be until almost 6 years later that I would find a doctor that would diagnose me correctly and prescribe medicines that worked.

So I have been cutting my meds and functioning so so. Until this morning. I woke up in a panic. In a dream I had last night I was suddenly struck with the debilitating depression of my past. I became violent, destroying the room in which I was staying. About half way thru this tantrum I woke up in a state. The dream was over but the depression remained. I lay in the bed for what seemed like hours waiting for the effects of the dream to go away. It's now 1:30 in the afternoon and I am still waiting.

So I have called my doctor and am going to get my prescription refilled so that I can resume taking the amounts that I have found useful. Can I afford it? Not really. But the truth is I can't afford not to. I can't allow myself to go back to that dark place. It's just to scary to return and I may not be so lucky as to make it back this time.

I went to my office at school today to pick up some boxes I packed last week. I discovered in my absence, my corner has been occupied by M.W.. It's not like I didn't know this was going to happen. It's just, walking into my space and having it confirmed that it's not my space anymore was a little unsettling. For the past three years Room 116 in GH has been my home. I have worked there, eaten there, slept there, made out there, and gotten drunk too many times to count. I have argued about the state of the world, the state of theatre and tried to make changes in the way things were done. In my own little way I was trying to make a difference in the world I inhabited. It remains to be seen whether the things I did changed anyone's life and I suppose I'll never know. But now it's over. Any day now I will turn in my keys and that will be it.

I suppose my feelings today were only exasperated by having attended my going away party last night. It's not something I had planned. I didn't even ask for it. Last week I was at school packing and R.S. walked by and commented that life at school wasn't going to be the same when I was gone. I wish that it were because of my insane talent, or my charm, or personality. But in reality it's because I provided Happy Hour on Fridays. At 4:30 every Friday afternoon, I set up and tended bar for my classmates. Sometimes people were only there a couple of hours. Sometimes we drank into the wee hours of the morning, calling other classmates to come get us and drive us home. I provided a service to people who work very hard seven days a week. When you are a student everyday of the week is a work day. R.S. asked if I was planning a party before I left. I told him I would have loved to, but it would have required cleaning my apartment. My roommate and I have avoided cleaning for the past several weeks because of our schedules. R.S. then suggested that he could have a party for me, since it was important for everyone to get to say good-bye to me. What's really strange about this, is that R.S. is an actor. It's not that I don't like actor's it's just at school the designers and actors don't tend to socialize together. And to my knowledge he and I have never socialized other drinking at happy hour. And yet here he was suggesting that I have a going away party at his house.

Fast forward to last night. For almost 4 hours I talked to my classmates: actors, directors, designers, stage managers and even a PhD. student thrown in for good measure. We talked about our experiences over the past three years. I told them about my plans to move to the city. Mostly we laughed and had a good time. At about 1:00 a.m. the last of the people left. I thanked my host profusely for the party and I left. What's funny, is that it wasn't sad. For all of us, graduation is truly about the beginning of sometime wonderful, not the end of something dear. It's what we do. And we go on, and we work and if the gods are with us, we will find our selves working together in the future.

And so today, when I got to the office it was confirmed that my time in graduate school was over. Next fall M.W. will sit in my chair. Someone else will maybe host Happy Hour. I'll be just a memory.

In the past few months I have begun reading several blogs, enough that I have been inspired to start my own. A couple of weeks ago I became intrigued with this man's blog. Not in a stalker sort of way. It just so happened that in several consecutive blogs he referred back to previous posts. Not being familiar with them I'd click on the link and find myself reading about "The Search for Love in Manhattan" and Joel's adventures. So one Sunday afternoon I started at the beginning, February 27, 2002 and start reading forward. It soon became my favorite soap opera. Would he break E.S.'s heart? Would he find true love? Would he reveal the name of his porn movie? Would he be a base his entire life. All questions that you could probably care less about.

For two weeks I spent a lot of spare time learning about Joel. Not that I liked everything I read. It makes me nervous that he might read my posts because writing has never been one of my strengths and I tend to just deliver my thoughts as they happen and god help my grammar and spelling and Joel is a self-professed grammar Nazi. That being said, I got to know Joel. There were posts that made me angry, posts that made me laugh, posts that depressed me. There were a couple of times that I just wanted to pick up the phone, call him and ask him exactly what the fuck he thought he was doing. But instead I read.

So why this story. Well, when Joel first started blogging he was compulsive about posting everyday, so much so, when he missed a day he would sometimes write multiple posts later to make up for it. Well today is exactly 4 days after I wrote my first blog entry. I feel guilty. I feel as though I have let someone down.

What's funny is, no one even knows about this blog. I don't think I am going to tell my friends because I want the freedom to discuss things I might not talk to them about. And yet, I still feel guilty. What is this about? I worry that imaginary people are upset with me because I didn't post for four days. Will they attack me with their comments. Will they stop reading. Oh, my god! I have lost my mind. My only consolation is that Joel now only posts occasionally, even though I check for his updates daily. So if he can get over his compulsive behaviors concerning real people, maybe I can overcome my compulsive behaviors concerning imaginary ones.

Gotta wrap this up. My imaginary boyfriend wants me to come to bed and have sex with him. Did I mention his name is Christopher Meloni. Maybe I should start seeing my therapist twice a week.

So I wanted my first post to be funny and witty. I wanted it to be full of insightful observations. I wanted it to be...well you get the point. So instead it's 3:30am and since I can't sleep I have decided what better way to start my blog than writing something at some ungodly hour in the am.

So I am Maddog. Well not really. It's actually a nickname that was given to me years ago while I was attending the University of Kentucky. I saw a co-worker at McDonalds and she called me Maddog. Now I had never been called this before, and had no idea why she called me that then. But my friends heard it and it stuck. I became Maddog to everyone who knew me. This was in 1990. No one calls me that anymore. I have grown up and become Jeff. Well actually I have been called many things but most of my friends call me Jeff. But for the sake of this blog I'll be Maddog.

And Maddog is moving to the big city. As of July 1st, I'll be an official resident of the New York City. Again. Not that this is a bad thing. I love the city. It's home. It's just that I have been away for three years and a lot has changed. I am no longer in a relationship. I have failed to stay in touch with most of my friends there. I have gained 70 pounds. I have finished grad school. I am poor. I have no job. And so it's scary, in a good way.

When I get there I'll have enough money to last me about three months. This gives me a little bit of a cushion to find work. But not much of one. It won't allow me to be lazy until the money is gone. So the minute I get there I'll be pounding the pavement looking for work.

What kind of work you ask? I am a lighting designer. I have just finished one of the best theatre design programs in the country and now am about to prove my professor wrong and begin making a living doing commercial theatre. At least that's what I hope happens. Who knows? In five years I'll be the manager of the TGI Friday's in Time Square. You know it's the largest TGI Fridays in the world. At least that's what the sign says.

So you guys all get to take this journey with me. I'll be documenting my search for work, love, happiness and fulfillment in the city. So stay tuned for all the fun that goes with moving cross country and resuming my career.