Oh, what a whirl, what a whirl

My stature at work seems to continue to diminish as my new boss, who is lovely in many ways, has decided to laterally reclassify my position from a supervisor to a lead. No change in pay, but it's a more accurate reflection of what I do since my power as a people manager has been usurped out from under me. In addition, I'm getting more client departments, which I had shed upon taking the supervisor role so I could focus on the strategic/advisory part of my job.

To add to this, she also hired a new analyst who's a friend of hers and fourteen years my junior with just four years of experience, and is paying her almost exactly what I make, and more than the other two more seasoned analysts. This only slightly makes sense when you look at market for our positions and the fact that we have a merit program forthcoming, but I also got myself just a satisfactory performance rating instead of a more than satisfactory rating, so I'm not looking at anything generous in terms of a raise.

I try to just remain grateful for the fact that I'm still well paid, and at the halfway point of my professional career. My VP just doesn't see me as a people manager, so even when my boss retires, my chances are slim to none of being promoted. So we'll just coast along at the current pace. At the risk of being snarky, I guess I'm just there for a paycheck!

I need to get back in the game with working out. And this includes stopping the sauce intake on weekdays, which I had been so good about for so long, but after a handful of events that lent themselves to it, I partook on a Monday or Thursday--at it shows. I miss that period in my early thirties where I maintained the diet I always had and just ground myself to the bone with cardio, and lost weight. Now that just ends up grounding me into the ground with exhaustion, so I have to follow the eighty/twenty rule of what accounts for your weight is eighty percent what you eat, not your exercise routine.

If there's something that would lend itself to slimming down, it's my old boss's wedding in Alaska two and a half months from now. It's apparently going to be relatively small. Seems like a lot of people are unable or unwilling to make the trek, which makes me kind of sad for her. But she's thrilled I'm coming, and I wouldn't miss the chance to see the happily ever after for someone who was so good to me.

Tifferbee and I are seeing "The Empire Strips Back," a "Star Wars" burlesque parody in two weeks. Should be fun, and it'll be the first time I've been to the Warfield. I told myself some time back that I would try to do at least one adventurous/cultural thing a month, so gotta get back on track with that, too.

For now, I'm having one last hurrah for May with a four-day Memorial Day weekend, starting off with a viewing of "The Avengers: Infinity War" followed by a deep dive into a cocktail glass as per my wont.

Relax, do do it

The past couple of weeks have been incredibly--almost dangerously--chill. Although we were amping up for a major initiative at work, my part of it was in check, and my regular workload was completely manageable.

"So why haven't you been offering to help out your co-workers, you lazy bastard?!?" I did, and have basically been covering for one of my analysts for the past week and a half.

With the relaxed work environment, I've been working from home about a day a week the last three weeks. Unfortunately, the day at home turns into cocktail time, which is supposed to be forbidden during the week. But Rachelle and her husband were in town mid-April, so I had to take them to Osha and Top of the Mark, and then it was like, "Well, if I already drank on Monday..."

The aforementioned major initiative resulted in us having to work twelve, sixteen, nearly twenty four hour days in some cases. The weekend before it, I had already skipped church because I desperately needed to sleep in, and then skipped it again this past weekend, so I haven't had that feeling of being spiritually refreshed in awhile. I watched a video from Nathan Wheeler, the guy who's near death experience convinced me to become a Christian, and he talked again about the importance of reading the Bible, and said we should do so everyday. So I'm trying to get back on track with that as well.

I also did not work out at all last week due to that initiative. I had intended to go today, but after taking a nap after work, I just didn't have it in me. I did work out at home, but I can feel the flab gathering in places unmentionable, so I have to snap back into shape with that shit, too. I had also been intending to increase my weights by another five pounds, but since I have to reignite my efforts after slacking off for a week, that probably won't be for awhile. Argh!

The thing is, I deserve some chill time. Granted, it'd be better spent not just drinking and playing video games, but I am not inclined to grind myself to the bone. It's been a year now since my former boss retired, and I know I wouldn't have this relaxed of a work environment if she was still here, love her though I do. And since I didn't get promoted into the manager role, I'm just rollin' with it as time goes on.

Sigh times

I entered into the holy Easter weekend with the best of intentions: traveled up to Noe Valley for a scenic power walk, went to church, vacuumed the apartment, and meal prepped for the week. Then Colette came over Sunday and muffed everything up. Luckily, I'm recovered--remarkably well so, in fact. Those Perricone super greens powder drinks and multi-vitamins really are amazing. But it's not exaaaactly how I'd intended to spend my first actual Easter as a practicing Christian.

If there was something good that could have come out of this, it was that I had to call in sick Tuesday, and I used that whole day to sleep. And sleep. And sleep. It must be a combination of heavy cardio at the gym and age, but I must truly have been underslept because I really felt so much more rested and refreshed when I went back to work.

A week or so ago, my old boss texted me to say she and her partner are getting married. Hooray! It means a trip up to Alaska for the wedding. I'd been desperately trying to travel somewhere for some sort of vaycay that wasn't just Christmas, so I guess this'll be it. It's in August. I'm still keeping Santorini in my back pocket and planning for Reno at some point, but I do need to keep finances sane in prep for the trip to England next year.

I also got a FB message from half-sister Laura informing me she was pregnant. She had also told me this several years back, but nothing ever seemed to have came of it. I assume she may have lost it. I'm always a bit worried about her. Her husband has been abusive, and she has the look of someone who if functionally anorexic. She had always told me that if she ever did have a child, she would ask me to be the godfather. It's quite a commitment, but I'd be up to it since I do love her, and the rest of her family seems to have abandoned her. It would also entail a trip to visit her and the new baby sooner as opposed to later.

Morose Mondays, March 5 Edition

I'm titling these little blogs I make on Mondays thusly because they're the first day back from work after what is usually a delightfully inebriated whirl of a weekend, and by the time night falls, my mindset has gone from one of crickety malaise to maudlin melancholy.

Do you realize we are nearly through the 2010s? There was a lifetime packed into my '90s. All of high school and college, every year of which--every semester of which--felt like a novel in a series. And my 2000s were packed with plenty of intrigue as well.

I was almost going to add, "At least until about 2008," which was when I got my first big promotion, and started (sort of) living on Easy Street, but even then, I had my little dalliance with Gideon in 2009, now nearly ten years ago.

Yes, I've changed, but in that almost imperceptible way that only I might notice, or someone who hadn't seem me in over a decade might notice. Certainly the Christian thing is new, and still surprising to some people when I happen to mention going to church. It still surprises me at times.

It's just amazing to think that another decade will have passed by after the end of next year. And I'm not entirely sure how to characterize my 2010s.

A lady in my church group mentioned a quote that was something to the effect of, "Life is lived forward, but understood backwards." That for sure as shiz is true. Morose Mondays, March 5 Edition

If you wanna boogie

David Harness was spinning at the End Up Sunday night for a new party called Boogie, and my black ass actually got out of the house and went. I don't know if I actually caught him spinning, but it was the funky house of the sort I like, and what appeared to be a mostly straight, househead type crowd, which I can get down with. One of the bartenders was a former longtime barback I recognized. Absent was the bald lesbian who I always tipped well and who always tended to me. I didn't stay very long, but long enough to have some fun.

And as always seems to be the case when I go out clubbing, my chubbiness appeared to dissipate slightly the next day due to the aerobic activity. Nice.

I've been trying to get Leah to take a trip to NYC with me, and she was going to bring along one of her friends. That was over a week ago, and I've not heard back. I'm just desperate for a vaycay, and my tax refund will cover most of it

I had to skip my church group this evening because today was my Monday after a lovely four-day weekend. Much as I'd hoped to get out of the house, I only got as far as taking a shower on Monday, and then coating myself in my PJs to play video games. Speaking of, I'd intended to give up video games for lent, but the bloomin' thing came up on me before I knew it. Much like I'd intended to try for Cocktail-free February again this year, and that was bust. But I have been participating in the forty days of prayer my church is promoting, with a new prayer texted to us every morning. A nice way to start the day.

Tally ho!

Bougierella Enterprises, LLC

I just finished "It" after what I think was easily over six months ago when I started it in preparation for the release of the movie. The mini-series in '90 scared the tar out of me as a twelve-year-old, and was like nothing I'd ever seen. I remember my friend Chuck reading it at school, and saw the title of one of the chapters, "The Ritual of Chüd," and remember thinking the book must've been even way crazier than the TV series. But it certainly remained plastered to my mind all these years.

I actually bought the book at a secondhand store probably some ten years ago, but had been too intimidated by its size and kind of scared at its content to tackle it. I'd loved Stephen King novels as a kid, so intricate and full of great storytelling, as well as being impactfully frightening. As I dove into it, already knowing the basic premise, it didn't have nearly the same impact as the mini-series, unsurprisingly so. Nineteen fifty movie monsters aren't as apt to terrify a child of the nineties. Like one of the primary story arcs, the bridge between childhood and adulthood had been crossed, and so reading "It" the novel was more like looking back at a gauzy, distant past, recollecting the actors who played the Losers Club in the TV series playing out the actual events in the source material. Still a good, interesting read. I know this because after I was done, I felt like I needed a good hug.

I joined the Crazy Love group at church, a group focused on God's amazing love. Sounds all butterflies and hearts, but when I went the first time, I left with an icky feeling. As an icebreaker, one of the co-leads broke out one of those novelty book of questions, and when it came one person's turn, asked if she would marry someone more attractive then she. After her answer, the co-lead said, "I wanna hear from the guys!" and so the one guy answered, and then I did, saying, "Heck, yeah!" Her laughing response was, "A trophy wife, huh?"

And I didn't correct her and say, "No, a trophy husband."

It's just weird to think this newfound faith of mine comes with a possibility of being around people who may not accept my sexuality, something I've been cool with for more than half my life. As intrinsic a part of me as the organs in my body and the skin over my bones. It's just there, and I just can't imagine considering it might not be such a good thing.

So after a day or two of rumination, I realized that I had to take a step back. There are Christians who are cool with gays, and Christians who are not. I wish this particular church took an outward position on the matter, but that's sort of why it's like "Christianity for Beginners" in that they just focus more on the good stuff while hinting at the hard stuff--which this same co-lead said would be coming in later chapters of the book we are reading. Gee, I can't wait.

The idea that this was just some sort of experiment crossed my mind. It gave me momentary comfort and allowed me to step outside of the situation, and re-center myself. But it also distanced me from moving in closer to my faith. That seems like the work of something a little more sinister than a little self-doubt.

So while I'm momentarily a little shaken, I'll let the Lord guide me, not necessarily the words of those who seek to follow Him. They're just like me. And besides which, the second group last night went much better, and I left on a good note.

Aaron and Gomez came into town last weekend, and we did "Beach Blanket Babylon" and had a surprisingly sub-par dinner in North Beach afterwards.

Veelishis will be in town in April with her hubby, so I will find somewhere new to dine and drink, and hang.

I've upped my weights by five pounds in an effort to make some advancements at the gym. One of the workout advice video series I watch on YouTube reminded me that the body acclimates quickly. So, we've got to keep pushing. I felt like I had been injected with Novocaine that week, but am sure I will get used to it. The plan is to then keep increasing by five pounds every month or two months.

I cannot seem to lose the holiday weight to save my life, and looking at my Santa-esque profile after so many months of meal-prepping is depressing. But it took a lot of time to slim down, so will likely take a long time again to get back to a more acceptable silhouette. Being forty does not help the matter.

I have a jam-packed day tomorrow with so much to get done, but am looking forward to another lovely four-day weekend. Barring any Novocaine-esque post-workout exhaustion, here's to hoping I get outside and enjoy a little sunshine.

Attack of the past, flood of the future

Last week, I had dinner with two retirees from my job, and three co-workers. Everyone was in their sixties save for one person who was a few years old than I. Retirement is something I've been thinking about since pretty much day one of entering the professional workforce (and something my company has been really good about framing), and after this year, I'll be just over the halfway point provided all goes as planned.

One of the other things forty has brought into perspective is that I can know recollect times in twenty year chunks. I have my ol' LiveJournal here to take me back to how things were going ten years ago, but alas, I threw out my old journals from my teenage- and college days some years ago.
In 1998, I would've been in my junior year, living with a trio of girls right next to campus, and unfortunately, starting what would be a period of speed dependency that would take me into next year. I had started a relationship with this guy I'd been introduced to who worked at a local movie theatre, and who wasn't particularly attractive, but I had desperately wanted to have sex.

In addition to the speed dependency, I was also in a politically correct phase, and completely missed the come ons by curious straight guys--an egregious oversight of the past if ever there was one. It was a short-lived relationships, three months, I believe, and as the months would progress, my dissatisfaction with Santa Barbara and boredom of life in general would be countered by that delightful powdery substance. Needless to say, it made me persona non grata among my roommates, and by the end of the school year, I would be moving out.

In addition to working at the radio station, I had jobs in the audio visual department, a coffee shop, and the dining commons, the last three of which I eventually got canned from for missing too many shifts. This dropped my income down, but I still managed through courtesy of those lovely school loan checks--which I am still paying off to this day.

The year would get much more interesting as I entered into my senior year in the fall and turned twenty one, but we'll leave that for later on this year.