Down the coast for Christmas and down the hatches with cocktails

My trip to SD was a solid B rating.

I arrived and headed to the hotel, looking forward to the signature fresh scent they pump into the vents and have as a handsoap, but it seemed to have been replaced by something else. I immediately stocked up on vodka and edibles, then took an Uber to my old haunt of Hillcrest for a trip down memory lane. This was a little on the redundant side, as whenever I get nostalgic, I do exactly the same from the comfort of my computer via Google Maps.

Later that evening, the plan was for my mom to pick me and go out for dinner at a vegan restaurant with her boyfriend and former co-worker, Troy. Troy had made a sour impression on Marie, having talked down to her at times and being generally weird. He once even told her, "I'm sorry about whatever happens next," in relation to our mom, which could either be rather ominous or simply mean that he knew he and my mom were getting closer even as Marie was not thrilled about their relationship.

I'd had a couple of drinks, so was in good spirits, but I noticed the smell of fecal matter when I got into the car. Later on in the vacation, I couldn't tell if this was actually my mom's breath or if in fact Troy had soiled himself. We powered through the dinner nonetheless, even with me tearing up at the news that my nineteen-year old niece is pregnant, and the conversation seemed to flow just fine. Troy told me a few times I was a good person, and when he switched seats with me after mom dropped me off, he gave me a long hug and kiss on the cheek, which rather grossed me out. Needless to say, the outfit I was wearing is being laundered as we speak.

The following day, Marie, her son Abel, mom, and I went to the cemetery to place flowers on the gravestones of our dearly departed, and afterwards to Belmont Park. I had wanted to ride the roller coaster, but the hangover I was experiencing, and its attendant nausea, exacerbated by car sickness, all combined to decide otherwise.

That night, I met up with Veelishis and Raina at Mo's in The Crest, and we had a fabulous time reconnecting and talking smack about our fellow alumni. It was sadly here where I made a major misstep by consuming one of Mo's trademark drinks that tasted like sugar water, and was probably chock full of cheap alcohol. The whole next day, I was reeling. In fact, most every day of the vacation began with a vomit-filled regret at the altar of the porcelain god, something that would probably have been kept in check if Grandma Petunia had been staying with me.

Nevertheless, I powered through, and met up with Aaron to do The Crest proper that night, as we passed by the many places of our past that had changed, finally landing at Flicks, which was flocking with trendy millennials, and had been completely redone from the last time I had been in '99.

It was then Christmas Eve dinner at my in-laws and Christmas Day dinner at Marie's, the latter of which included fun playtime with my destructive, but adorable, little nephew, before I bid everyone adieu, and settled in for the trip home.

I'm a little fluffy around the mid section, and the alcohol consumption has gone right to my face, but am trying to muster up the energy to hit the gym or at least work out at home today, and def must go tomorrow. I got sick on my last day there, and still feel a little under the weather. I had planned to adopt a second cat today, but after reading up on the idea, the notion of failure and creating a hostile home environment for both Shazaam and a new kitty, seems too much to bear. Unsurprisingly, my lovely holiday vacay feels like it's whipped by in a flash, and I'm shocked that I only have five days left of it. I'm supposed to have lunch with Lea on Saturday, and have no plans for anything on New Year's.

Taking deep breaths, and trying not to let these little pangs of anxiety balloon into an emotional overload. Good Lawd...

The T

I went to the work party on Friday, Ubering there on my own, and stayed 'til about twenty three of sixty something in the white elephant gift game. To my great joy, there was a side exit out of which I slipped and Ubered right on back home. This counts as one of the good things about my old boss retiring as she most assuredly would've kept tabs on me.

In addition, I'm in the midst of a rather productive vacation. I even went to the gym, whitened my teeth, and cleaned the kitchen yesterday; and cleaned the bathroom, including scrubbing down my vile shower, today. Teeth whitening and gym to follow.

I wisely mapped out happy hours with two groups of friends while I am in SD, have my nephew's birthday party to go to, dinner with mom and her new boyfriend, and, of course, Christmas and Christmas eve. One of those friends is Rachelle, who I haven't seen in ten years, and Raina, who I haven't seen in over ten and a half. Raina had been living in the Bay Area, but moved back to SD after her mom died. So the days are rather accounted for, not that that's a bad thing. Since my grandma is unable to come, which is both a bummer and a relief, I'll still have sufficient freedom to do my own thing, including checking out the old gayborhood, even though I've been doing that daily via Google Maps.

Stretching out every lovely minute of this vacay.

You win some, you're screwed some

My VP informed me today that he'd made a decision to hire a manager. If all works out as planned, it will be the senior analyst on our team, who we all like plenty, and who would be a delight to have in the role. I guess I'm just not visionary enough. Nor am I as experienced as he seems to want. He's claimed he'll keep me in my supervisor role and will not lay off anyone on the team if she decides she doesn't want to do the job, and I'm hoping he'll stick to his word.

I'm starting to dread the one-on-ones with him as I almost feel like he delights in the sharing of unpleasant news. I mean, it's not the end of the world, and he painted it as an opportunity for me to continue to develop under someone with more direct expertise in the field. Fine. But it's also not the most encouraging sign either.

I just keep thinking, I've been there seventeen years, and I have seventeen years to go before I retire. Well, nearly sixteen. So I'm just past the halfway point, and I know that things will keep speeding forward since that's the way life has been for the past several years now. It literally could be so much worse. I just need to keep my chin up and keep plugging away.

For example, there are just twelve more days of work left before my delightful Christmas Break. That's something to look forward to, even if it does just involve a trip to SD. I love the smell of the hotel I'm staying in. They have their own custom soap, and it's so soothing. In addition to the time with family and friends, am looking forward to some exploring time on my own checking out my old haunts.

Shake it off or drink it off?

I was a good boy this past week... Worked out thrice, cleaned and smudged the apartment, ironed my clothes for the week, though I did regrettably miss church for the second week in a row. Was just too busted up. I'm not quite sure what will shake this feeling like there is some impending doom coming my way except to just wait it out. If my friend Heather, who was a manager in my department, hadn't been axed last year, I might feel a little more secure, but it's just enough to have me feeling like I'm on shaky ground.

We're in the lovely part of the year where it's lots of holidays, cold weather, and plenty of time off. This is a three-day week, and I'm taking off Monday for good measure. I plan to take my staff to Osha for a staff appreciation lunch in December. And it'll be off to SD in a month's time. Just sixteen days of work to get through.

Post-vacay boo hey hey

I hate the post-vacation blues, even if the vacation itself wasn't anything spectacular. But my two-day stay at Universal Studios was at least a respite from the norm and a chance to get away, and now it's a full week away.

I should be in better spirits as we just submitted the final payroll file for the annual bonus, so we're pretty much in the clear. Just a few post payment issues to contend with, lot of catching up to do, and then I should be able to coast through these last two months of the year. But between the stress and what feels like a wave of unpleasantness from my clients, I ain't feelin' it.

Not helping are the new multivitamins and dietary supplement. On the one hand, they have me full of energy. On the other, I can't seem to fucking get any REM sleep. It's either that or the lack of sleep during my vacation, exacerbated by the heat, has me out of whack. I didn't have the mental energy for church group on Wednesday nor the gym today.

So I'm writing this to simply consciously tell my mind that everything's pretty hunky dory. I have about three grand coming my way next week for my part of the bonus, and a lot to be proud of in the accomplishment of getting it paid. I will eventually catch up on work. And the trip to SD for Christmas, hosted by my little sis Marie, is but a month and a half away. Not to mention reunions with some old high school chums, one of whom I haven't seen in over ten years.

Do ya buy that, brain?

#The40 has arrived

Well, it actually arrived a few days ago.

I awoke the day of my fortieth birthday not unlike the day of my thirtieth birthday. It felt no different than any other day, only I was off to Universal Studios with Tifferbee. I corralled Shazam into his carry on, and deposited him at the Wag Hotel, then quickly packed a few things for the one night stay-over. In typical fashion, I forgot not one, but two things: my mouthwash and an extra undershirt for the second day.

What I also neglected to account for was the time it would take to accomplish the above items, and BART to the airport. By the time I got there, I was outside of the forty five minute window to check my luggage without it being tagged as late. This resulted in me having to wait at the Burbank Airport, a sad little place compared to the opulence of SFO, for two hours until the next plane from SF landed.

It was then off to the hotel where Tifferbee quickly met up with me, and we were off to Universal. It was a blisteringly hot day, so I was all shorts, hat, and sunblock. But we accomplished a lot in just the few hours we had. One thing about Universal is that most of the rides are that motion-simulated kind like Star Tours where you have to focus on the screen so that your mind actually believes you are experiencing real forward movement. Poor Tifferbee had to shut her eyes on most of these rides, but hey, overall, we had good times, terrible food, and didn't have to wait in line for hours since it was a weekday. I was thrilled to be able to celebrate this landmark birthday with a good friend, and one who had also been there for my thirtieth. When we were in the hotel at one point, she said, "So what are we going to do for your fiftieth birthday?" I kind of went agog at the thought.

So it came, it went, and I'm on my last day which I took off for good measure as I need to clean the apartment, possibly do some shopping, and, if I can manage it, maybe work out.

I made the mistake of logging onto my work email and seeing the joy that awaits me when I return to the office tomorrow. We are at the tail end of our bonus process, so things are ramping up. For additional fun, I recently made a rather large overpayment error with a new VP that I have been trying to reconcile. My VP, who is all business and doesn't forget such oversights, has had to intervene, so things aren't looking too swell for my performance evaluation despite the fact that there are literally thousands of other transactions I oversee that are executed flawlessly.

What can ya do?

I'm owning it and will be part of the process improvement team, and just hope the matter fades into the recesses of memory sooner as opposed to later.

Other than that, I'm going to enjoy the last bit of my five-day bday weekend.

The Great Change of 2017

Changes might be more like it.

When last I updated, my boss had told me she'd planned on retiring at the end of June and moving up to Alaska to be with her new girlfriend. The time came and went, and the crown was passed to me. I had hoped this would result in a promotion from my supervisor position, but it did not. Instead, they hired a senior specialist to do project management and more of the executive stuff. I wasn't exactly thrilled, but the person they hired was someone we'd been working with for the past two years on a systemwide initiative, and a former employee. She also happened to be an awesome person from whom I could learn a lot, so it ended up working out.

I got about as large of an annual increase as I'd hoped in June as well, which took me off of scouring LinkedIn for other jobs.

And then a few weeks in, I realized something else. I was so much calmer and felt less antagonized. My boss, who was wonderful in many respects, was also, I think, somewhat threatened by me, and seemed to never hesitate to make little digs or contradict things I would say in meetings simply to assert her authority. I would also hear about her badmouthing me in management meetings even though everyone relies on me as an uber-subject matter expert. Without her nipping at my heels and myself at the helm, I no longer had this layer of unpleasantness lightly coating each work day.

I can also take a PTO day here and there at my leisure since I'm the boss, applesauce. And my team (with the exception of one problem child who is like my bratty teenage daughter) is fabulous.

The other big change is that I finally bit the bullet and went to church. It's the nice, modern church that prides itself on being welcome to everyone. I've enjoyed most of the sermons, and joined an introduction to Christianity group that meets once a week for four weeks. I keep scouring the materials and waiting for some token of anti-gayness to creep in, but thus far, nada. I still feel a bit odd saying I'm a Christian, but hey, that's where I am, and I like it.

Mind you, that does not stop me from having fun, and I did just that a few weeks ago when I summoned NT to hit the Castro with me. We did the Lookout and Toad Hall, and it was good times.

I also did liquid brunchies at The Grove with J-Fri and Kimmie this past weekend. I was too pooped for Folsom--in fact, I ended up sleeping about eleven hours on Sunday.

J-Co and I are seeing Matt Bellassai in November, the guy who used to do those hysterical Wine About It videos on Buzzfeed. My period of wanting nothing to do with her has expired. I'd like to think it's a product of my newfound religion, but it's mostly because she's usually down to do things when most others are not.

And I'm going to Universal Studios with Tifferbee for my fortieth. Christ, I cannot believe that's just around the corner.

I hope to retire at fifty seven, which means I'm at the halfway point. There was a lot packed into those first seventeen years, but that period of my twenties and even early thirties was a whirlwind of change and excitement, and for the past eight or nine years, it's been lovingly chill.

Who knows what else is around the corner.

Cure of the funk

I think I figured out where my mild depression may be stemming from.

After paying off my credit cards, I felt a sense of control over my life again, and a degree of freedom. With said control and freedom, I went on a bit of a shopping spree, buying new clothes, both for work and play. Of course I'd hoped that the sharp threads would make me look instantly hotter, and suddenly bring all the boys to the yard, or something of that nature.

Of course, that didn't happen. Beyond a few nice compliments, things remained status quo.

Add to this the failure of not completing Cocktail-free February, and regaining the weight that I may have lost, and it left me feeling a bit in the dumps.

The only solution I can think of is to change things up another way. I know that I need to lose weight, and that the best way to do so would be to curtail the alcohol intake. Since that's obviously not going to happen, I need to look at my everyday food choices. Scale back where I can, abandon chips for carrots and hummus, forego the breakfast bagel for some eggs and veggies. I need to make a second trip to Trader Joe's each week to explore new and different things, and trim down the fat and sugar.

I don't know if this is all a big bag of bullshit or what, but I'm inclined to move forward. I should scour the internet for food tips, and see if I can find a site that speaks to me.

Blech-tastic

Since my spectacular fall from grace the weekend before last, it's been pretty blech-tastic. I still can't believe I couldn't make it two more weekends. Even the arrival of some new clothes, part of my recent shopping spree, didn't manage to cheer me up today. Instead, it highlighted my weight. Maybe I had in fact been losing some pounds in those two weeks. Still, can't deny the glow of new clothes. Kind of.

I also didn't manage to clean the apartment this past weekend even, and couldn't drag myself to the grocery store today or yesterday. I felt so icky yesterday morning, that I just worked from home.

The avoidance from sugar had brought over me a certain calm that took a few months to reach. Having disturbed that with even one cheat day has invited back tiny sugar-inspired tantrums that, while aren't the end of the world, were nicely a thing of the past. Gotta hop back on that wagon.

I did have a blood pressure check this morning, though, and the employee said it was good, and lower than before. Granted, she barely spoke a lick of English, and, I believe, may have used the cuff that's too small for my arm.

Barbara, a member of my team, retired today. I had thought I might be in tears by the end of the day, but managed okay. We're taking her out for dinner next month, and I'm sure I'll sporadically keep in touch. She was truly sweet, and will be missed.

I must remind myself despite feeling sub-par that things are going well. My debt is being managed, no other great calamities are befalling me or hovering just among the outskirts. I know I still have my bday (that I hope doesn't fall through) this year if nothing else, so just gotta breathe.

Cut the crap, Jan

I tried. I failed. And I'm not all that broken up about it.

Last night, as I was closing down my computer and preparing to go to the gym, the four-day weekend ahead of me loomed up close, and blossomed so that every waking minute seemed rich with possibility for the taking...if I were to take a drink. So, I loaded up at the BevMo, hit up the gym, made a mad last dash to the Whole Foods for a mixer, and settled in for several hours with a coupla tatankas.

I still made it about 20 days without even so much as a sip, so that had to be good. Kind of.

I blame my computer and Resident Evil 7. If I'd had something active to do and challenge myself, I would've focused on that, but my computer isn't compatible enough to play the game properly.

Of further worry, I've suddenly turned into a fashion plate now that my credit cards are on the down low, and have went on a spree buying all sorts of new casual clothes. In my defense, they're really reasonably priced and look great. I got three pieces yesterday, and lo! They all fit! I've been the king of cargo pants and Herman Munster shoes for so long that it's kind of fun to refresh my look. That has included work attire as well.

It is all a bit like watching a car crash about to happen from a distance in slow motion, though. This was how I behaved when I first got my new batch of credit cards in 2013. And I always tell myself I'll pay them off without much chagrin, but that clearly didn't happen this last time. I'll have a month with three paychecks in April where I will be able to catch up, but I'm hoping my shopping habits slow down as well.

Cocktail-free February™: Day 14

The gym Valentine's Day evening is perhaps one of the saddest things ever. And I got to be a part of it!

There were legit only about six people there, and I'm not even exaggerating. One guy was even a hottie, but his piece was probably out of town or something, and they'll be celebrating this weekend.

My feeling about Valentine's Day is that it's a time to celebrate the fact that we can love, even if we don't have a particular romantic love in our life at the time. I stick to that, and still hold true to it, even if I may be a bit less enthusiastic about the message nowadays. Forty is only eight months away. I'm not actively looking for anyone even though we are in the age of The Grindr and Tinder. And, perhaps the biggest sore spot, I'm not shockingly Instagram attractive enough to have them falling at my feet.

But neither are most people. And they still hook up. I would just rather it be someone who's the full package, probably even quite a bit better looking than myself, if I'm honest, even though in all honesty, the swath of types I find attractive runs pretty broad.

If it's not meant to be, and I go the way of Tim Gunn being celibate into my sixties, so be it, sister. If the homosex does in fact turn out to be a grievous sin, maybe I'll be spared hell. Ha!

Part of the lack of man-love has to do with my pad. Now, I love my little apartment to pieces. This is true. But it's sort of like my own little rabbit den with my things crowded hither and yon, with a only a bachelor-level semblance of clean. To this end, I hopped onto Amazon the other night and bought myself a new entertainment system, a new vanity, and a new shower curtain, along with some new casual threads. It all ran me only about $100, and the new furniture is a vastly needed update to the dilapidated desk holding up my TV and shredded laundry hamper substituting as my vanity.

We are half way through C-fF. And I had a chocolate chip cookie today.

You know where this is going.

I'm just floored at how there seems to be no noticeable impact. I'm due to get my blood pressure checked, so maybe I'll go tomorrow and see if it's gone down. I was hoping I might start to feel my pants sag, which is a sign that my vodka gut is shrinking, but life is not so kind.

Cocktail-free February™: Day 12

One of the things that's supposed to be beneficial about C-fF is the healing of my liver...assuming it's not too far gone at this point. I can't remember if it was Friday or Saturday night, but I felt a pinching sensation in that general area at night, and was rather miffed. Unless said pinching sound was the organ at work repairing itself, I call shenanigans. I have been foregoing my usual 1,000 milligram dose of Milk Thistle at night because, well, I'm not drinking, so why keep popping a liver-improving supplement?

Today I had, I believe, three episodes of cocktail cravings. The first was in the morning when I was planning out my day. I was going to Japantown to pick up some ointments, then would circle back to Macy's to buy bow ties, cuff links, and socks. I pictured in my head a lovely trot downtown with a to-go cup, and the picture flashed in front of me vividly and angrily before I had to remind myself that I'd committed to this.

I had another one or two on the way back from Japantown as I was trying to gauge how different it was taking a power walk sober rather than on the sauce. I mean, I pass a liquor store and the thought creeps in.

I was going to try to hit up the gym today, but after my extended walk and shopping trip, I settled into my bed, flipped on the TV, and took one of my extended weekend naps that lasted I don't know how many hours.

This is the halfway point weekend-wise of Cf-F, and the sparkle has started to fade in that my hope of occupying myself with the new Resident Evil game was dashed because my computer isn't really compatible with the game; and I don't entirely have the patience to watch a bunch of movies unless they're spectacular. That has left shopping to fill in the void, which has its own set of worries. I really have to prevent myself from going buckwild just because my balances have all been reset. I still want to go to Universal Studios for my birthday, and hope to take my mom to NYC in the next year or so for her sixtieth, so we must be mindful of those duckets.

We can do this. We can power on through.

Cocktail-free February™: Day 11

This Saturday was not unlike last Saturday in that I awoke rather early, futzed around on YouTube, and around noon, was so tired I took a nap. This nap lasted a good four hours. It was like the sleepiness was slamming me into the pillows, and I couldn't get out of it.

That's another odd aspect of C-fF--that my gym routines hurt more than usual. I don't know what that's about unless it's that usually the alcohol dulls the post-workout pain.

In any event, I awoke around 4:00, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom so I would only have to vacuum and iron my work clothes for the week tomorrow, and decided to make a Macy's run to buy socks and bow ties, and hit up Whole Foods. However, the Chinese New Year's Day parade had other ideas, so after trying to find my way out of it, I settled on a quick Safeway run, and hailed an Uber home.

My Uber driver, who for all intents and purposes seemed to be straight, played ABBA for half of the ride. At first, I genuinely thought I was just hearing a car driving by randomly playing "The Winner Takes It All," but then I realized he had, like, the greatest hits on or something.

It takes me back to around this same time twenty years ago when I was living with Ray and Milo, the only two gay people at my entire fucking 10,000+ undergrad school who I'd seemed to have bonded with. Ray looked like a demonic Ricky Schroeder, and was into a lot of old gay stuff like ABBA, "Boys in the Band," and "Mommie Dearest." He was a vile sack of shit, too, and to really rub the salt in the wound, he was somewhat conventionally attractive, so didn't have much trouble landing the guys.

Admittedly, there were some good times had with the two of them, but Ray headed off to DC for an internship spring quarter, and by then, I'd befriended my new gothic/emo group of straight friends, and was more than ready to move on.

Back to the present, though, I did have at least two pangs today of wanting to quit C-fF and have a few sips of the sauce. It's amazing how they strike with such pointed insistence before I have to take a step back and tell myself, It's only two more weekends. Chill the fuck out.

Cocktail-free February™: Day 8

I was walking down the street to buy lunch when I caught a reflection of myself in a storefront mirror, all puffy marshmallow face and all. I was a bit pissed because I am eight days into Cocktail-free February™ with a total of ten sober since I actually cut myself off after last Monday, and as yet, there are no noticeable changes. I knew this going in, and I shouldn't hold out hope for a miracle, but it just irritated me a touch.

My sleeping habits are about the same. I'm still peeing three or four times at night. My mind must still be in the same pattern it is on regular weekdays because I beat it home Monday and Tuesday, foregoing the gym. I guess I may have been a little more sprightly on Monday than usual though. I had an optometrist appointment, and the doctor noted that my eyes looked good. Had I been on a bender that weekend, they would likely have been a bit reddened.

He actually made me laugh a bit because when I mentioned how this new generation of contact lenses I had still wasn't sharp enough, he mentioned that I was getting older, and that could be a symptom of it. I'm noticing it increasingly more, especially with my high blood pressure, and how I get winded so much more easily.

We shall just keep plugging away, and I'll try not to get too dismayed. It's still not been so bad, really. It has certainly helped having my credit card debt wiped away, and that situation on track. And I have Monday off, and earmarked to see "Star Wars: Rogue One." 5

Cocktail-free February™: Day 5

Day four of Cocktail-free February™ was amazingly productive. I awoke butt-early as I always tend to do since my mind immediately craves stimulation and fun. Instead of trying to sleep in, I got my ass up, made breakfast, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, prepared several salads for myself for the week, and brewed my weekly detox potion. I did have a bit of the shakes when I awoke, the reason for which I really could not place.

Then I settled down to some video games and a movie. About a quarter through the movie, I got tired, so I closed my laptop, and took a nap for about an hour and a half.

When I awoke, I regrouped, and showered in preparation to do some shopping. I hit up the Macy's and bought some cute new casual- and work clothes for myself.

Now, I realize this was not but one post after I said I'd take it easy on the shopping, but I still have a bit over from my loan for play, and I spent it accordingly. I've been working on updating my casual look...sometimes foregoing my preferred baggy cargo pants for the tighter kind now in style, switching out my Herman Munster slip-on black shoes for some stylish Converse, etc. I think it may be paying off. I got what I believe were two smiles from two separate guys yesterday. I almost thought I'd gotten a third, but he seemed way too cute, so I didn't give a second glance to verify.

When evening arrived, I suited up for the gym, and was halfway there before the notion struck me that it may not be open as late on weekends as it is on weekdays, and lo, I was correct. But it was a bus ride to and back, so no extra monies were spent on Uber.

I compiled a list of projects I want to undertake around the house and taped it to my wall. It would fill me with joy if I got through even a few of them.

When I looked at my face last night in preparation for my night routine, it looked a little more even-toned than usual, so maybe the impact is taking hold already. I have not gone six days straight sober in two years. And thus far, it's not proving to be a challenge.

Mind you, I thought the same in 2015, and by the third weekend, the novelty of it all had muchly worn off. I don't care. Maybe I'm a different person now. Maybe not. But we'll push on through to the other side as it is.

I just want clean lines and surfaces, darling!

The subject of this post is a reference to an old "Absolutely Fabulous" episode where the chaotic Edina Monsoon hurls into a mad rush to rearrange her apartment in anticipation of the arrival of some old friends who were the epitome of minimalist. When they arrive, they come bearing a newborn, and all the clatter--physical, emotional, and mental--that comes with a baby.

Well, this month marks two important downsizing initiatives--one temporary, one not so much.

The first is Cocktail-free February™. I have been excited about it this whole week, and got a head start on my movie watching, having taken in the sad tale of ex-gay Michael Glatze in "I Am Michael," and the semi-surreal coming-of-age story, "Closet Monster." Plus I bought Resident Evil 7, and have been playing it sporadically (I have to stop every so often because it scares me shitless).

I am looking forward to not vomiting Monday mornings (and Tuesdays sometimes, too), not waking up to pee five times a night, not being awoken at 5:00 am by mysterious, stabbing hunger pains, not feeling perpetually tired, not getting cranky, losing fat, gaining energy, not having burst blood vessels on my face when I go into work Monday mornings from vomiting so harshly, not feeling gross, and saving a little money.

Who knows. If it's a success, we may consider entertaining it more often.

The second more long-lasting change has to do with my debt. Of the many offers I get in the mail to take up a loan to pay off my credit cards, I finally looked into one that could give me actual numbers without me officially applying for it. Given the choice to keep paying the minimum on most of my cards for two decades or get a loan now to pay them off now that could be paid off in seven years, I chose the latter. It's a fixed rate with fixed payments, and it means I will actually have more spending money than I do now. Plus I will obviously continue to get pay increases within the next seven years, so my income will still increase. I'm obviously not a person who knows how to handle credit wisely, so I sure as shit will become Mr. Frugal for the next seven years so as not to land myself in this mess again.

I'll be 46 when the loan is finally paid off, about 11 years from my targeted retirement date. Probably not going to hold out for any fabulous trips before then, but I'm not ruling anything out. It was so wonderful to see all those balances drop to $0... and next, my available credit limits will probably drop, too, since I won't be using most of the cards all that often.

In any event, I feel okay with the decision, and feel like the slate has been swept clean. No more shopping sprees, not that I should ever have had them in the first place.I just want clean lines and surfaces, darling!

Doomsday/Boomsday

As the world slowly starts to putter out and come to an end here in Trumpsville, I am trying to cast a blind eye to the external world and turn in on myself over here. And by that, I mean I am bringing back Cocktail-free February™ next month. I had attempted to relive C-fF last year, but when that first Friday night came 'round, a roaring, angry feeling erupted demanding to know why I couldn't enjoy for myself a sip or three.

Guess that's when you know you got it bad.

But I'm much more motivated this time, I'd say. Part of me had hoped this would be a nice thing to forego as a sort of quasi-Lent in respect of my newfound and beguiling Christianity. But that wouldn't be the honest reason why I was giving up the sauce for the month. No, the truth is that I'm not getting the same, lovely alcohol high I used to get, and it's probably because I built up my tolerance tenfold over the Winter Break by drinking nearly every day. So it just hasn't been as fun to toss a few back.

Let's also not forget the unfortunate consequence of weight gain, particularly in the face, which just hurts my heart. And the fact that my heart is literally hurting because spirits really do a number on quite a few of one's major organs.

What's cute is that I've been listing several movies I want to see so as to occupy my time for the next four weekends, one of which is the new "Star Wars" movie. I also downloaded the new Resident Evil game, so that should prove fun. I would absolutely love it if I could get to reorganizing my room and closest, but baby steps over here.

I'll hope against hope that everything I'd wished for in the original C-fF may still occur-stabilization of sleep patterns, weight loss, energy gain, glowing of skin--but won't hold my breath. It will be like a vacation from myself, and I'm kind of looking forward to it.

Ponder with me now

Yesterday, we were at our Oakland office working on this ongoing large scale initiative. I like going there--even though it's Oakland--for both the change in scenery and the plethora of different places to eat, a nice change from the three at my home location. It was our whole team, including our boss, and the consultant, who had actually been one of our managers in the early 2000s. It was productive and fun, and there were many times when we burst out laughing at things. In one of those moments, I just stopped and reflected at how fortunate I am, as I'm wont to do... I have a great job working alongside good people and that pays well. I have a rent-controlled apartment in the city I've always wanted to live in. I don't have any dreadful ailments that make life a little tougher. Sure, I'd like not to be in quite so much debt, but I've got it pretty good.

I like it when I have these flashes of realization. I've heard that if you've received your reward on Earth, you don't get it in Heaven, though I daresay I've gone through the fire on this big blue marble (see: adolescence and young adulthood and the period of child abuse and homophobic attacks). If that's the case, so be it. But I'll never not be grateful for what I have.

Re-entry blues

The wreath is still up on my door, the stockings still hung with care (when Shazaam doesn't swat them down), and the last vestiges of the Poinsettia in the kitchen still hold on strong, but this week's return to work remarked the definitive end of my winter break. I hate to admit it, but it felt good to get back into my routine, though certainly not easy. You can bet your sweet ass it was an Uber ride to- and from work all three days I was back. But it was all novel again, trekking to the BevMo for provisions and to the gym after work.

I am now at the point in my life where I don't just reflect on how things are now compared to just five years ago, or even ten years ago, but now a full twenty years ago. Nineteen ninety seven would have been my second quarter of my sophomore year in college. If I'm not mistaken, the 1996 summer was the only one in which I returned home during my college tenure. I got a job at Target to pull together a little money, only to have it all divested into the purchase of new contact lenses. I also dyed my hair red. And when I returned back to school that fall, it was with my loathsome new roommates, the only two gay people I'd befriended my freshman year, and who I was fated to live with for my sophomore year in off campus housing. Why, we even had a homophobic fourth roommate who I had the misfortune of bunking with, and whose friends from out of town one night busted into the room after having been screaming homophobic epithets at me to let them in one night after partying. He moved out by second quarter, I believe.

It was also the first year I did E at some party. I was not too keen on hanging with the whole group of people at said party, so bid adieu to my hostess, and hightailed it home, not really feeling a thing. Once I got back to my apartment, I started playing music, and I specifically remember the point when it kicked in--when I played the Junior Vasquez deep house mix of "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls. It still gives me flashback chills.

I used to keep journals during this time as well, which would hardly read as a magnum opus today, but in which I kept track of my favorite songs for the month. This would have been about the time of The Cardigans' "Lovefool," Everything But The Girl's "Missing," and one of my all time favorites, Reel 2 Real's "Jazz It Up." Suffice it to say the first two songs would continue to be played for the remaining two years of my college career non-stop on the radio, and the third would be a staple on my mixtapes for many more years to come. I just heard "Lovefool" for the first time in awhile in an Uber home Friday night, as a matter of fact.

I had begun working at the dining commons by this point, and befriended the beautiful Guy, with whom everyone was in love. A beautiful, charming Filipino boy who would kindly accompany me to my gigs at the AM college radio station, he really did have a swarm of hangers-on who were all chicks, and was ostensibly straight, but he seemed to hang out with me quite often. I think he had once made mentioned about how he didn't mind hugging friends of his, which I believe was as close to bi-curious experimentation as he was probably willing to go, but I didn't pick up the cue. I didn't pick up the cue from ANY of the guys who made them at the time, something I regret so tremendously today, English words cannot express. I never got the memo that college was a time guys were willing to experiment, and let more than a few opportunities slip down the drain because I was too busy being, out, gay, and proud instead of being out, gay, and on the prowl, or even just remotely aware.

Before the school year ended, I had made a new group of friends through my connections at the radio station, and would transition to a whole new clique, leaving the pair of assholes I'd been living with that year behind, and hitting the half way point of college career.

What a time.