One day...

A Facebook status update I posted:

So.  Everyone is up in arms about Chick Fil-A and their stance on gay marriage.  I’ve seen people who adamantly support this company’s stance because “they are just a business” and are “entitled to their freedom of speech.”  I’d like to remind those individuals on my friends list who are right wing conservatives and insist that simply because the Bible says I’m wrong for loving someone of the same gender, you may want to read a little farther into your precious book.  If I really must take you on individually for this debate, please let us do it via private message but I do reserve the right to dismiss you as simply ignorant of other verses.  Furthermore, I do fervently agree with Chick Fil-A’s right to say what they want in coming out against or in support of any marriage stance they want, HOWEVER, what I cannot and will not tolerate is this company donating millions of dollars to such groups as Exodus International.  For those of you who don’t know, Exodus International is group who engage in ex-gay therapies.  To translate that into lay terms for everyone, these therapies are psychological and physical aversion therapy (torture) in an attempt to “cure” gays and make them straight.  If you condone the barbaric practice of torture to try and change the way people are born, then please find the unfriend button right now.  I do not want or need you in my life in any shape or form.  Thanks so much.

While this particular status may seem a little bitchy and perhaps even a little inflammatory, I don’t really care.  I have seen gays and straights alike saying “can’t we all just get along?” over the last few days because of one semi-edible fast food restaurants stance on whether or not I (and others like me) can marry the people we love.  This is quite a novel concept and while I’d like to think we could all get along, it we in America look to our not so distant past we will see just exactly what bigotry and denial of rights to a minority can cause.

                This summer I took a government class.  While I would have very much enjoyed taking this class in a brick and mortar environment, I ended up taking the class online.  During the course of this class I learned a lot about just how our government works and the civil rights movement.  While I didn’t see much evidence of racists using the bible as a reason for the rampant segregation, I do know of the bible being used to endorse slavery before the Civil War.  While it was ruled by the Supreme Court that separate but equal was at one point constitutional under the 14^th amendment, it was later overturned.  To this day there are even still some elections in the great state of Mississippi that are under federal jurisdiction because of the inability to include African American people in the election back during the civil rights movement.

                Now having said all that, let’s look at the current equal rights movement underway for the equal treatment of the GLBT (Gay Lesbian Bisexual and Trans) community.  There is a growing and at times violent expanse forming between those individuals who would deny equal marital rights to homosexual couples and those individuals who are fighting for same sex couples to have the same rights as heterosexual couples.  The one main theme I keep seeing throughout this fight is the bible says being gay is “an abomination” and “abhorrent.”  I have seen countless people my age and younger taking a stance on this issue and unfortunately taking a highly uninformed stance.  I saw something the other day that said “we need to bring this country back to God” and gays should “never be [granted] the right to be married” because “being gay is a choice.”  To these people I wish to say, you my fellow human being, are an imbecile if you really honestly believe this country was founded on a single religion.

                This country was founded on the principle of being a refuge for religious freedom and the opportunity for prosperity.  People seem to forget this because of the religious right’s ability to manipulate its followers into believing anything it spews forth.  Much like the civil rights movement of the past, this will soon be another dark blot on America’s history that we will all say “I was there to see it happen!”

                I heard a story one time that I am unsure if it’s true but it’s a nice story anyway.  As some of you may know, the rainbow is recognized as the symbol for gay pride.  I have heard this wasn’t always the case.  During the last civil rights movement, the rainbow was developed as a symbol for equality.  All races, all colors, living together in harmony just like in a rainbow.  It represented the beautiful hope that those who were fighting so diligently for their equal rights clung to so desperately.  Again in our country’s sordid history it is the symbol for an oppressed group who simply want the same rights as the majority.

                One day, we will be able to live in harmony and marry the one we love without wondering if or when we will be persecuted for our heart’s desire.

Intriguing

NOTE: this will be more of a double post than just a single thought so keep that in mind.

Yesterday I got one of those little forward text messages that said if you could use only one word to describe me, what would it be? I thought this would be an interesting experiment to see what others think of me, so naturally I forwarded this one with absolutely no expectations as to what the replies would contain. The responses I received were varied and intriguing. There were two which struck me as particularly intriguing. Tracy responded with “seeker.” Something I didn’t expect but I can see the reasoning. Tracy seems to be an avid reader of my writings and while sometimes does not leave comments I like to believe that my thoughts stir her thought process. It also invoked a mental overview of my past posts and various writings. They all contain a common underlying thread. I am seeking something in my life. Be it truth, knowledge, true love, inner strength, or simply peace, I am seeking something and perhaps everything all at once. My curiosity is often peaked but not quite to the extent of Giles Gregory Skiboy Kitty with the ever present thought “What’s this button do I wonder?” as the button is promptly pressed and often havoc ensues. A few other responses I received were “amazing, complex, silly, funny…etc” the typical gambit. However another one particularly intrigued me. So much so I had to look it up in the dictionary! A gentleman I am getting to know responded with ebullient. For those of you who are like me and steadily watching your vocabulary decrease as the number under the age section increases, (the laymen translation I got from it) boiling with energy. While I like to think of myself that way I often times don’t see it myself but I assume that I am perceived in such a manner. I take this as quite the grand compliment. I like to think of myself as having a caring nature and a nurturing disposition to help those around me and attempt to make them smile when they are down in the dumps. I suppose this is one of the contributing factors which has lead me to chose the profession I am shortly going to enter into. What I found most curious about the responses I got was the wide and varied range. Some of which with mischievous and others with caring. I suppose the phrase my roommate (Sir Skiboy of Alvin, Head Kitteh Herder) used was perhaps the most accurate. “Dear you are far too complex to summarize in just one word.” There will always be yen and yang to my personality. There will always be a certain air of constantly opposing forces which balance (and sometimes imbalance) me into the individual which is me. So here is what I ask you dear reader. From my writings, who do you think I am? Leave a comment, an email (ptatum@gmail.com), or an IM (AIM: socialites1, Yahoo: sinn95) and let me know :).

On to the next topic:

The plight of Midwestern America is steadily growing worse even though the economy seems to have slowed its rapid downward spiral. Today I was forwarded a note from the wife of another victim of the economy’s ailments. A factory in one of the towns here in Northwestern Ohio will be closing it’s doors permanently within the next month or so resulting in the loss of 200+ jobs in the area. One of which was the man referenced above. After reading this email, I was deeply moved. What moved me even more was the story of how his 30 employees were lined up at his car waiting to say goodbye to a good supervisor and to tell him how much they will miss working with him. Even those who he had run ins with in the past for one reason or another were there to thank him and wish him well. All in all an amazing story of the caring and heart of those of the American Midwest. Another item that touched me was the view his wife had of the situation. She looks at this as not a woe is me moment, but as an opportunity for her husband to start a new phase in his life. Another chapter if you will. She states they have their faith, their family, and their health making them rich beyond measure. This is a testament to the strength and fortitude of those who have built their lives here in the farming communities, steel mills, factories, and industries occupying so much of middle America.

With Detroit’s auto industry continuing to crumble and starting to rust into shambles, a once large city is slowly dying because of these difficult times. Every company out there is looking to shave overhead, cut costs, increase efficiency, and any other tactic one can imagine to stay alive. For too long our nation has taken advantage of the prosperous times we have been afforded. We have forgotten what it is to live through hard times. We must always remember our history for if we forget, we are bound to repeat the same mistakes of our forefathers. I’m sure hardly any, if anyone at all, remembers times where if you wanted to eat you had to grow your own vegetables or go hunting to put meat on the table. If you were unsuccessful, you were left hungry. We have forgotten what life was like before there was central heat and air. Before supermarkets. Before the task of driving to the store was so arduous that it would be postponed until absolutely necessary. To be left cold and shivering within the confines of one’s own home if trees were not fell to burn for heat and cooking. No matter how hard the times remember, they were once much more difficult than we can currently imagine. Be thankful for all that we have, remember to cherish the ones you love, and keep the spirit of the American Midwest alive. We will overcome, we will survive, we will prosper, and we will be stronger because of it.

The Roller Coaster Has No More Hills

Previously in my life (prior to last November) a lot of my friends and loved ones, the ones that truly knew me the best, would say that I was kind of an erratic person. Usually very random, up and down, not very predictable as to how I would react to something, but for the most part I was generally happy. Well of course they always saw me when I was happy. I never let the downside yang to my happy yen show through. I would hole myself up for hours or even days till the mood passed. Those that knew me then and know me now have all noticed a significant difference in the person and type of mood I'm in constantly. I'm no longer as erratic or irrational. I no longer have the inexplicable mood swings which often times varied by the minute you were talking to me. Things are now even keeled. The rollercoaster has no more hills.

Along these lines I have been doing a lot of thinking, worrying, fretting, and just generally contemplating why I am so hell bent on self improvement. My emotional roller coaster may no longer have any more hills but my life in general is about to be one gigantic up, down, left, right, loop, cobra turn, followed by a sudden and abrupt stop, then being launched at 120mph. I am fervently planted and am to the point of no return on this grand adventure of life and improvement. I do however have a companion who has accepted the task of going along for the ride. Bless her for sitting down, strapping in, and holding on for the ride. Molly and I have all but gotten our 64 count box of crayola crayons, elmers glue, wonder woman lunch boxes, and wide ruled spiral notebooks so we can start our career paths at the ripe old ages of 26 for Molly (not really but she looks it so that's what we're going with) and 27 for myself (I look older but we'll go with my real age). Molly while being one of the bravest and most caring people I've ever met seems to be as scared as I am about venturing back to school. We seem to be sharing the same worries and concerns. “What if I fail? What if I can't do it? What if....” There is an unending string of what if's. Molly in a relatively short amount of time have gotten extremely close. We share similar thoughts and feelings, I spend time at her home, have picked one of her children up at school before, I spend an insane amount of time at her home with her family. So much so that when her husband comes home from work the standard line of questions consists of “the kids home from school? Okay Preston here yet?” Molly and I believe that we were brought into each other's lives at the exact time to help each other through some difficult times. School for me and a personal matter with her. I feel as though we have become each other's rocks. A beacon in the storm that is our lives.

The other day I was reading through some of my past blog entries. I read a couple that I hadn't printed for the people at work yet, and got to thinking that it has been a while since I have dipped the quill in the proverbial ink and scribed some senseless blather onto this electronic forum of me. As I was reading through Ponderings I had forgotten a comment was left on that journal since I receive so few comments on my entries (I'd like to receive more!), so I clicked on it...not quite knowing what to expect or who it was from but it was obviously from someone that I would allow to publish a comment. As the screen loaded and the words formed in front of my eyes, I was not surprised that the note was left by Nick (http://xtraordinarymachine82.wordpress.com/). What the comment contained was something I had forgotten how special and profound it was. Nick and I have an unusual relationship. We were lovers first, then after the breakup, we are now amazing friends. We affect each other's writing and the process that goes into it. His comment touched me and helped reaffirm that I really am a great person who will succeed no matter what is thrown at him. With Molly being an exponentially stronger person than myself, I KNOW we can get through school together. Without a doubt in my mind we can and will succeed if for no other reason to say we did it, we did it with each other and the support of our loved ones. We are doing it, for ourselves.

SQUIRREL/CHICKEN (IM or email me and I'll explain):

I was chatting with a friend this morning and she asked me, “why do gay guys change their voices?” Curious, I inquired what she meant. She said that gay men have like 2 different voices. A straight voice and a gay voice. I have noticed this in even myself. I have my normal voice which is questionable and ambiguous as far as sexuality. And I have my straight voice which, when heard, there is no question in your mind about my sexuality...until you see me walk (HAHAHAHA). But this got me to thinking. Why do gay men have this stigma and have to have two different “voices”. Why must/do we continue to perpetuate a continued practice that no matter your sexuality your masculinity is not defined by simply being anatomically manufactured to be a man, but it is in fact determined by who you are perceived by others. If you have a feminine voice, girlish mannerisms, a swish to your walk, or limp wrists it is as if you are branded with a red hot iron directly to your forehead with the irrevocable and permanent stamp of “HOMO HERE! Hey girl heeeey!” I know I'm not the most “masculine” man in the world by society's definition, however, if you get to know me, you will learn I grew up in the middle of no where, I know how to work on cars, drive trucks, tractors, and raise cattle. I know many many “masculine” men out there whose knowledge about how to check the oil in their car could easily be doubled and threaded through the eye of a needle. God forbid these “men's men” be challenged to change a flat tire or change their own oil. Yet, the not-so-masculine guy writing this, can do all those. Has changed the tranny fluid on cars, even (with my brother) broke our farm tractor down to rebuild the transmission (you have to split the entire thing in half). It's funny how society puts labels on us based upon the first impressions and surface of what we see of someone. While I find it humorous this prejudice exists, I must engage in full self disclosure and admit that “straight acting” is a must have for me on the attributes my potential partner possesses. More than likely they won't have a clue how to do the things that I can with a car, truck, or whatever, but they must look and act like a straight man. It's just something that is a must have for me. I want us to be that couple that the neighbors say “oh yeah, their great guys” and not want or have to mention our sexuality because it's not called into question. While I like to think of myself is a more forward thinking and progressive gay man, I must also admit and profess my own subscriptions to selfish and societal stereotypical preferences. Sometimes forward thinking and progressive give way to the more traditional side. As the world moves closer to an ever more accepting notion of homosexuality and a general people are people no matter who they love, I fear that I will be left behind in the fear and closeted thinking that others don't want to or won't accept me because I wake up to a man.

Back to the roller coaster:

Bear fully in mind that this journal has taken some weeks to scribe into being so the thoughts may seem incongruous. Tonight as I was relaxing with friends relaying funny stories and anecdotes, my roller coaster took a more downward turn. While there are no longer hills so to speak there are gentle ups and downs along the way. I thought of how I feel alone currently. While I have skiboy some 10' (give or take) away from me, I still have a sense of solitude that is steadily growing to bother me more and more. I don't want to be without my love but at the same time I know this is something I must do. With my latest romantic interest taking an unexpected turn approximately a week in, I've noticed I either set myself up for a let down or they just seem to find me. Either way they need to stop. I must continue forth on my adventure no matter what curveballs are thrown at me. Lately as far as men, due to a string of either unsatisfying events or simply being ignored, I've developed the attitude of “fuck it! They're loss.” and move on. I refuse to put forth effort into something and get nothing in return. If after I have put forth my amount of effort I think is acceptable and I get nothing in return, I will simply stop, in the off chance that person comes back to me all the while not holding my breath or getting my hopes up.

The more I sit here and scrawl my thoughts and feelings into this forum the more I realize how blessed I am to have the people in my life that I do. I have Tracy who is one of the wisest people I've ever met. I have John, Molly, Terri, Ken, Kimmy, and Skiboy who are my family and are perhaps some of the most protective people I've ever met. A pack of angry pitbulls would be an accurate description. I have all my other friends and people I care about. Those that have gotten to know me and know that I have one of the biggest hearts a person can but I can still be a ruthless bitch when crossed. I have all these people in my life, a roof over my head, a car in the driveway, and a career path I am setting forth on. If it were not for the people in my life who have and are giving me the support that I need, I would not have any of this. The blessed mementos granted to each of us on a daily basis are truly things that must be cherished and appreciated for where they originate and their substance.

Though my roller coaster ride is still hopefully in its early stages on this adventure, things have smoothed, but there are still bumps, curves, and the occasional roll. We all encounter these. It's called life. And life is something to be loved, enjoyed, and lived to the fullest each and every day. I ask you to accept a task on my behalf. If I or anyone else you know seems to be unappreciative of the day they have been handed, remind them of the beauty that both they and the world around them contains. To return to an ending line I've used in the past, for all the bad remember, this too shall pass with time.

~Preston

Parental Longings

I’m noticing a trend these days among gay men, young and old. One I never really thought about. They have a parental longing…a desire to care for and nurture a baby and go on that life long grand adventure of being a father. The older I get the more I think about this. Up to this point I never wanted children being as I have eight nieces and nephews. I’ve done my duty with doody so to speak. Yet…as I age and mature, the idea of having kids doesn’t scare me as it once did. I suppose there are a number of contributing factors that have influenced me and swayed me towards the notion of considering being one of the paternal units of a beautiful baby. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Molly, who is quickly growing to be right up there with John and Skiboy on the friend level. Molly is a mother of three wonderful children. An oldest daughter and two sons with the youngest being four almost five. I see the joy in her and her husband Bill’s eyes as they care for their family. The fun that can be had while raising a bundle of joy and helping shape them into an upstanding functioning member of society. I’m particularly fond of her middle son who is one of the brightest young men I’ve ever met and whose potential is boundless. I look forward to seeing where he goes in life and the heights he will reach when he spreads his wings. It is this family and talking with friends and men who want to have kids, that sways me towards wanting children of my own. There are several men I know who can’t wait to have the SUV, loaded with ballet, hockey, and soccer gear to be piled into on a Saturday morning and then off to the races so to speak to get little Suzie to her dance recital, Billy to his hockey practice, and Johnny off to his soccer game. Constantly on the cell phone coordinating with their partner to get the kids picked up from one thing and off to the next and discussing what is to be made for dinner when they finally arrive back home or if they should just order a couple pizzas and put the kids to bed early so they can spend some time cuddling watching a movie.

The more I think about this scenario, the more it appeals to me. I’ve always wanted the perfect suburban life with my partner but never really thought about children until now. I hope that you, dear reader, will have some input here for me. If you have children, tell me your story.

I asked my boss, who is perhaps the coolest right wing republican straight guy I know, what he thought about gay couples adopting or having kids. His response was interesting. He said that he doesn’t believe a child by two fathers or two mothers, will have the growth benefit of having a heterosexual couple as their parents. At the same time, he said that there are lots of kids out there who need loving homes to be raised in and that he would rather see a child brought up by two loving people, be they straight or gay, than the situations they are currently enduring.

Having said that, it begs the question, a child of my own or to adopt? While I am sure a child of my own would be a wonderful thing, I’m undecided. Each comes with it’s benefits and downfalls. Will they have my charming personality (feel free to guffaw) and my dashing good lucks (again, feel free to chortle) or will they saddled with my genetic defects? It’s a roll of the DNA dice. With adopting there is the complete unknown but I may have potentially saved that child from a worse fate than my cooking.

Something to consider also is the psychological effects of being raised by two dads would have on a child. What ridicule would they face in school because they don’t have a mom? Instead of having Betty Crocker for a mom they have Billy Crocker making the cupcakes for the class Valentine’s Day party. The more I think about this and the more the world comes around to being accepting of gays, the more I believe that these things will not be an issue. Also how does one answer the question that will inevitably escape a babe’s lips, why don’t I have a mommy like Austin? “Well you have two daddies who love you very much and that’s better than….” Than what? Is it better than having a mommy and a daddy? Probably even keel there. It’s got to be better than having only a mommy or only a daddy right? It’s definitely better than having no mommy or daddy at all. What if little Austin has two parents who are as happy and loving as Molly and Bill? I’m not sure I could top that one since they are amazing parents.

As I write this, I think about who my partner will be…what will he want? Invariably it seems if there is a mutual interest between someone and myself, he wants children someday. It goes without saying this is something we will have to discuss at great length.

Who knows though. Maybe someday I won’t just be Auntie Preston, but I will be Daddy Preston.

Roots

Middle America

It’s been a while since I’ve felt the bug to write. I generally flow forth with inspirational and insightful commentary only when faced with an obstacle or some sort of stress. Today I read a note posted on Facebook by a dear friend of mine. His name is Nathan. He is originally from the Northwest Ohio area but now lives in Ft. Lauderdale. This past weekend he came home to visit and while I didn’t have a chance to see him and spend time with him as I would’ve liked, I did read something he wrote about his home. About his roots. His passion and conviction with which he expressed his pride and admiration for his upbringing and heritage moved me literally to tears. I’m very thankful I know this young man. With his permission, I am going to share his writing. I could not express in any better terms how both he and I feel regarding the lands from which we came.

From Nathaniel A. Brunner:

I am home…These are my thoughts. They are a little jumbled and I pay little regard to being grammatically correct. For the sake of saying important I let them flow out as if I were speaking them.

Jason recently made the comment, “We may be living in South Florida, but we are only here on loan. We are and will always be Midwest boys.”

Many of you know that I flew home a few days ago to celebrate my birthday and Memorial Day with my family. Little known at the time that I was packing my bags and dealing with the shattered glass of my car that was broken into did I realize how desperately I needed this trip. I needed to come home to be reminded of where I come from, who I am, where I am going…and why I need to remember my past. This place is so beautiful. Not because it has sweeping mountain vistas or jungle foliage. Not because of beautiful cityscapes or sandy beaches. This place is beautiful because it simply is what it is. Its unpretentiously, unlavishly (I made up that word), unsoiled middle America. The people that inhabit these green plains aren’t seeking fame or fortune…they simply exist to be who they are. To go to work to build a fulfilling life for themselves and their families. They are unwaveringly loyal to their country and their community and while they fight amongst themselves they are fiercely protective of what they have built together. They are my community.

Since I’ve been home I’ve gotten to enjoy the subtle reminders of why I love the place I come from. There is something special about watching a community come together to remember and honor those who fought and sacrificed for their nation. There is something to be said for the pride that wells up inside me as I listen to my mom give a speech…watch the heads of my young niece and nephew bow as they flinch to the barrage of the 21 gun salute…for the chills that run up and down your spine when you hear taps being played. There is something special about realizing that you don’t care about the sour notes of the band because the band isn’t important. What is important is that schools still value the need for memorializing its heroes so much that the send their student bands all over the country side to play over and over and over for services for fallen soldiers. There is something said to be from a place that when the marching band and honor guard walk back to their drop site at a local parking lot…all the cars stop and the people in Burger King stand and put their hands over their hearts.

The other night I went for a walk with my mom…we went to pay our respects at the family plot and then walked around and remembered all of our friends and family that lay entombed there. I took off my shoes and felt the cool damp grass under my feet. I haven’t done that for years. In 5 days I’ve taken over 200 pictures in a vain attempt to take this time and place home with me to Florida. While I sit here waiting for the clock to say its time to leave for the airport I know deep down inside it will be hard to leave. Since I’ve been home I’ve shared lunch with a publisher (he does my mom’s stuff) who was so passionate about literature and shares insight and conversation about this place and these people, faith, religion, journeys. Last night I sat with my mom and another friend who, to most, would seem “so out there” but who has an energy that literally grabs you by the shirt collar and drags you along whether you want to or not. I’ve gone drinking with friends that I’ve known for a few years…and sat around a campfire with “family” I’ve known for a lifetime. We didn’t have a theme for our party or order catering…we had hot dogs and pudgy pies over the fire…and laughed about kids and life. We had uncomplicatedly uncomplicated fellowship. I got in the car and just drove…and drove…and drove.

I learned about all that is going on here. The struggles as the people here trying to hold on to their lives…while political policies and economic changes try to rip them apart. I’ve heard horror stories of companies closing…and listened to stories shared about who got laid off last week and fear that they might be next. The victims of a world that forgets that just mere survival is not a game, but a life match against odds. I came home to see my precious middle America full of these wonderful people trying to keep trudging forward despite the black eye and broken limbs that recession has dealt them. These people, however, move forward together as a community that isn’t giving up, because they know that wealth is not measured in a Bentley or Rolls Royce in the front yard, but rather my their ability to hold on to one another. I came home to be reminded that the odds will never out weight human spirit.

I come from a place where the last time a police officer was killed in the line of duty was over a century ago…and the community is coming together to make sure that he is remembered the with the respect he should be. Local businesses and struggling individuals (and a prodigal son) coming together to donate money to make sure his gravesite is protected. I stood and spoke with a women who’s daughter was killed in a horrific fire, but her ability to smile and move forward was amazing. She was doing her best to accept the loss and find a way to make other people’s lives better…in her I understand God. In her I understood that the human spirit is an amazing thing and that its stronger than we think.

Tonight I fly back to Fort Lauderdale. Jason will pick me up and tomorrow I’ll go back to work. The freshness will wear off and before I know it I will be back to my routine. Maybe that’s how its supposed to be. It makes me remember why this is home and how important it is to return here often. To lend my support spiritually and emotionally to these people because this is my tribe.

I am…after all…only on loan.

Ponderings

While I sit here getting my day started at work, occasionally sipping my morning coffee trying to clear my mind of the sleepy fog that encompasses us all when we first awaken, I wonder what life has in store. I ponder what this grand adventure we are all on holds for each of us…my friends, my family, all my loved ones. I expound in my mind’s eye what twists and turns may be thrown at us.

Slowly I have drifted apart from some friends while getting closer to others. I gain a new understanding and a new appreciation for what I have and who I have in my life. People who I would’ve never thought I would hold in my inner sanctum have become my closest confidants. With each person who comes into our lives we must glean something from each one and take the life lesson that was meant to be and make it a part of ourselves. These truths have proven themselves to be self evident in each and every situation I’ve encountered. Some have taught me that I need to be more of an adult. Others have taught me that the only person we can truly count on is our self. And still more have shown me that with heartache and longing, there is always a reason and a silver lining to everything.

One of the people who knew the old me the best, one of my exes, the one who I had the longest relationship with, said something rather profound. I am unsure if he realizes the prolific impact that simple statement had on me. He jokingly said at the demise of my last relationship, “You’re just not meant to be in a relationship.” Could this be the case? Could it possibly be that I’m not meant to find “the one”? Some of my friends have paired off into their lifelong partnerships while still others have not. We still get together and have our fun and rebellious times but they aren’t as frequent and are usually more mundane as we reach “respectable adult” ages. Through these times I have to admit I find myself thinking “when in the hell did we grow up?!” Last night as I was preparing myself to retire to much needed slumber, I typed up a new away message. One which, once completed, I realized how profound a statement it was. "As I lay my head upon my pillow, I hope for blissful dreams, of peace and happiness. I hope for someone with whom there will be mutual desire, caring, and passion. I hope to be granted only that which is the heart's greatest desire in the only place it can be found...my dreams." I sent this statement to a couple of online friends, and both had the same response. “Wow that’s beautiful, where did you find it?” When I told them that I had written it just now as an away message they were both astonished I was capable of such prose. Could it be this is truly the only place where we can find the one we truly desire is within ourselves? Within our own heart? I’ve contemplated this statement and while I still don’t yet grasp its true meaning, even though I am its author, I believe it to be true. We’ve all heard the cliché expression “you can’t truly love another until you first love yourself.” As the words flowed forth from my finger tips onto the screen, is when a realization hit me that finally I understand that this concept means. To find love, one must look within oneself prior to searching for another to share our life with. True contentment can only come from within.

Recently I have had a couple of gentlemen interested in a romantic entwinement. While they both are over qualified for husband material, I am not ready to have my “one”. I am on a journey of self discovery and improvement at this point. I will be returning to school as an older adult returning to something I should’ve accomplished when I was younger. If I meet my “one” he will have to wait for me to be ready. If he’s not then he’s not my “one”. Love should happen on its own and shouldn’t be forced yet it’s not something to be frightened by. Just a few minutes ago a friend from long ago in my past messaged me stating that if he is going to date someone then they have to be perfect or he gets annoyed and shuts down the ride. He asked me why that is, how he can change that. My response was simple. Stop looking for perfection in a person, and keep your eyes open for your perfect match. You will be two different people with two different sets of traits, characteristics and quirks. And even though some of these things may annoy you to an extent where a breakup may not be an option but murder is, you learn to love these quirks as part of that person.

Lately for myself my singularity seems to be my constant companion and that is precisely where I want to be. I have my friends. I have my family. I have my loved ones and that is all I desire. The journey I have set forth will be a long one. One with trials and tribulations but in the end it will all be worth it. One day I will find my one. One day I will love him unconditionally. One day life will be as close to perfection as it will ever be. One day.

Preston

The Plan

This isn’t one of my more existential blogs where I go on and on about humanity and life…this is an update for everyone about the plans for my life. It has a certain sense of finality if I put it in writing.

2009 – pay myself out of debt.
2010 – early 2010 pay my car off.
2010 – Fall of 2010 start to school.
2010 – 2013 – School. (we’ll see if it takes me 3 years)
2013 – post graduation, seek employment in Oklahoma and move to OKC or somewhere closer to my folks.

I know some of you may be glad to be rid of me and 2013 won’t be soon enough. At the same time I know some of you will miss me terribly. BUT we have 4 years to live it up and make the most of it!