OBSERVATIONS OF NYC AND KC

Wow, it’s been what? Almost 2 years since I wrote observations about anything! I was focused on other things and needed to work something out first. Told people I’d get back to writing about “light” things when I felt light. With that, I was in Kansas City, Missouri for a business trip and had the opportunity to stop in New York City for a few days. I observed some interesting things while I was there…

1. I don’t need to expound on how heterosexual I am to preface this first observation… Ok, maybe a little. I’m extremely heterosexual and am attracted to women on every level and will never get enough of them. Now that I’ve introduced this observation with a healthy dose of my male insecurity, there are way more attractive men in NYC these days than attractive women. There, I said it! I feel the overall level of attractiveness of men in the big apple exceeds that of the women. Don’t get me wrong now, I saw some HOT women in the city. Just not as many as I used to see. I remember walking around with my head on a swivel afraid I’d miss a great pair of legs or a gorgeous face, not this time. I found myself passing couples thinking far too often, “Wonder what blackmail material she has on him!?” Huge disparity between levels of looks tipped in favor of men. Now, if that has anything to do with NY women saying they’ve seen a significant increase in the amount of gay men residing in the city I don’t know.

2. Asians. I saw waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more Asians in NYC than ever before. Let me narrow this down cause Asian is a broad term. I specifically mean Chinese, Korean and less so Japanese. Not saying it’s good or bad, just what I saw. Another thing I noticed with Asians? Ass! When did Asian women living in NY start getting curves?? Seriously people. It was unprecedented the number of Chinese and Korean women I saw filling out the backs of their jeans. I haven’t seen a shift in ass like this since the Great Fill-out of the early 90’s when white women started growing asses. Really! Check the ass history books to see for yourself! Ass history books you ask? Well Playboy and Penthouse of course. Playboy models from the 80’s look like someone took a bread roller to the behind of all the white women in the pages of the magazine. Can’t even call it ass, just an extension of the back. Wasn’t Photoshop either, white women literally had no ass pre 1990. Then all of a sudden, the ass god bestowed his blessing… sporadically obviously. The TV show In Living Color becomes a hit and the Fly Girls with Jennifer Lopez are on mainstream TV, the song Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-A-lot tops the charts and in the next 10 years a transformation of an entire race of peopleI Well, that has happened to Asian women also apparently and it’s a beautiful thing. Will we have to start saying ASSians!?!

3. Mexicans are taking OVER in NYC! What happened to the Puerto Ricans and Dominicans living in New York?? The number of Mexican restaurants has grown exponentially in the city. There are even gourmet Mexican food carts. GOURMET Mexican food carts?? Ya slippin Puerto Ricans. I saw not ONE Puerto Rican restaurant or shop while I was there. Mexican people have gotten their hustle ON! I ain’t hatin, just wondering where ya at Dominicanos?? Another reason I know Mexicans are doing their thing? I walked past hella shops in Chinatown and you know what I saw? Chinese people dummy! BUT! In the backrooms and workshops, I saw Mexican people!! Now you KNOW Mexicans are hard workers when the Chinese trust outsiders to work in their businesses. Wait a minute! This might explain the influx of Asian people I saw on the street! More leisure time if you have Mexicans doing the manual labor. I think they call that correlation.

4. I also observed how Berlin has spoiled me on the price of things. NINE dollars for a beer in NY? Not imported beer, not a BIG beer like they sell in Berlin that’s the size of your arm, but a normal bottled beer that is available at any 7-11 stores in the entire country, $9. Madness. Don’t even get me started on the $15 cocktails either. Even when you account for the exchange of currency those are still some expensive ass drinks! People gotta take out a loan for a night out in the city. I am not used to going out for breakfast and paying over $20+ for some scrambled eggs, toast, pita bread, humus and a SMALL orange juice. In Berlin, that same amount will get me a brunch BUFFET at an upscale Russian restaurant, large FRESH squeezed OJ and enough change to catch a Sunday matinee at the movie theatre ya heard!

5. Another thing Berlin has spoiled me with? Travel time. There are entirely too many people living in New Jersey trying to convince people they live “just outside the city” when they refer to New York. If it takes you an hour DRIVE to get into the city, then it’s not close, simple as that people. Driving an hour to anyplace is NOT close, unless you live in small town Kansas and the next closest thing is 2 hours away. I forget how cheap Berlin is so it’s UNHEARD of for even the poorest of students or welfare cases to live outside of Berlin. You just live in a cheaper neighborhood but you don’t live an hour away! Crazy how Jersey folks make that drive paying $12 dollars for tolls, EACH way just to go out in the city for drinks which are expensive as hell too! Commuting for work? I get it. Commuting for fun? I don’t get it. In Berlin, I think of ways of cancelling plans with friends if it ain’t in my hood cause there’s so damn much to do within a 10 minute walk! It is not fun gettin your drink on then having to get in a car for an hour drive back to your house. Not fun at all.

6. Ok, this is a Kansas City observation, but sadly I know this is really a USA observation. They had a breakfast buffet at the hotel I was at for my seminar. The buffet was true American style with the amount of food available for people to eat. One thing that stood out were the scrambled eggs. The normal scrambled eggs in Kansas City had cheese and sausage already mixed in them. You had to get a “special” order if you wanted scrambled eggs only with eggs… So, the everyday, normal, run of the mill, typical, what we put out in the buffet as a de facto are eggs with cheese and sausage already in them?? THEN, they had a HUGE tub full of sausage AND bacon right next to the eggs. People were getting the “normal” eggs then loading their plates up with sausage AND bacon. Throw in the pancakes and assorted pastries; you can imagine how sluggish one might feel after eating a breakfast like that. I know that is not a KC thing in the least, just been so long since I’ve been exposed to it. During our breaks at the seminar? More pastries and CAKE! Pastries are already sweet and you bring out cake at 10am?? Then, lunch was a parade of meat heavy food. I observed Americans love to put meat in things that shouldn’t even have meat in it. Salad in the United States has meat in it. Every salad I saw in the US had chopped up ham thrown in it. Of course there was cake for dessert at lunch also. Add the dinners which were the same as the lunches and one can see how a person can get fat in ooooh, 18 hours in America. I had to “cheat” on my American diet by eating fruit for the breaks and skipping the cakes at lunch. Surprised I didn’t see someone drop dead from a heart attack at every meal.

7. I’ll call this last observation God Bless America. There are some things, small things, but things none-the-less that made me miss living in the states acutely. Customer Service. I know, I KNOW I harp on this constantly but I don’t realize how much I miss it until I get back to the states. Having the waitress smile and coming by my table from time to time to see if I need anything shouldn’t make me almost shed a tear! It did because you feel like you are a plane survivor crash landed in the artic when you are at a table in Berlin. The staff apologizing and offering suggestions on how they can make it up to you when they made a mistake??? WTF?? Making sure everything is OK if you didn’t finish your meal or drink?? LOVE IT!! I’m importing that to Berlin! I went into this store called Petsmart in NYC looking for something specific for Chewy. They didn’t have it, no big deal to me. But it was a big deal to them! They apologized, and then offered to send me an email letting me know it was in stock and ship it for free when they specially ordered it. Explained I live in Berlin so they offered to find a store in Berlin who might sell it and email me the locations and price…. Are you fuckin kidding me!?!? Now if that ain’t the complete opposite of what I would’ve got in Berlin I don’t know what is! First I would’ve needed to FIND someone in the store to speak to. When I asked about the particular product they would’ve looked at me like I was retarded for asking since it should be obvious if I didn’t find it, then they don’t have it. The store offering to order it especially for me and contacting me when it was in?? MAYBE if I had a loaded gun and placed them under EXTREME duress they might have. Even that is debatable. Then, flirting… I just had a moment right there. I literally sat at my desk with a goofy smile on my face reminiscing what it’s like to flirt. Flirting doesn’t always mean a person wants to have sex with you German people! It also made me realize how German I’ve become! Women were smiling at me in the states and my FIRST thought was, “What that bitch grinnin’ at?” Crazy but it’s true! After a few days I got back into it and I was smiling back too! It’s so easy and so nice! I’m importing that also to Berlin. Last thing, being able to use your credit card EVERY WHERE. Did you know non Germans there are places in Germany, not in the village, but in the MAJOR cities that don’t allow you to pay with credit cards?? Hell, forget credit cards, some are still cash only. CASH ONLY!?!? That means you are going to a restaurant and you are on a date. You don’t remember to get cash before you go and you are sitting there looking stuuuuuuupid. Or, you want to buy a new washer or dryer at the German version of Best Buy? You better have enough money in your checking account cause no credit cards accepted! Madness! But, that then makes me wonder, why in the hell are we still using checks in the states??? Save paper and get rid of those things! Everyplace takes credit or debit cards anyway! Know I saw a hooker in Brooklyn with a credit card reader hangin out of her purse!

LOVE LOVES ME

Life is full of unexpected sparks of realization and fleeting moments of clarity. These precious instances are not always manifestations of our own doing. The catalyst for these special moments can be inspired by another. Three simple words someone uttered sent me down a completely unexplored path, “Love loves you”. I asked them to repeat it because I thought I misunderstood. Love loves me? My family loves me; my dog loves me, close friends even, but love? Is Love even capable of altering its form and make the transition from verb to noun? Love, the answer to so many prayers of hope, yet its unseen except for the effects of its presence or aftermath of its absence. Love loves me. I started playing around with the thought, examining it from every angle to better understand. I got up close and then backed away again to get an overall picture. Still wasn’t sold on the authenticity of the statement. Then I decided to try a different tact, I stopped thinking and analyzing which I do far too much and I decided to see how the words felt. Truthfully, they felt so right.

For years I’d played a perverted game of Hide and Seek with love. I always hid and refused to come out even when Love’s pleas became desperate for me to return. Yet, love never tired of me and would join in all my twisted ego games enthusiastically. When I walked out the door and would leave for months, sometimes even years, Love always greeted me with no hesitation in a full welcoming embrace. No matter how callously I treated Love, no matter how many times I cursed it, swore I was through with it and accused it of being unfair Love always sought me out. When I was ashamed to be seen in public with Love and claim it was my own and acted as if I’d forgotten its name, Love always waited patiently without malice to accept and comfort me. Now I understand Love will always love me no matter my transgressions, however it doesn’t make it right to mistreat or disrespect it. Knowing what I now know about Love, it makes it less terrifying to say goodbye. When Love loves you there is never a final goodbye only a series of expected hellos. Yes, Love surely loves me and I’m certain Love loves all of you too, no matter the circumstances.

CLASSIFICATION

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INVITATION

How does one define love? Is it even possible? Is it truly something that can be characterized by words searchable in Google or Wikipedia? Is it even something that can be expressed in words? Love could very well be a sound. Now which sound is what I am not certain of, would it be the beating of two hearts in unison written about so eloquently in poetry? Maybe it’s the sobs of separation at an airport for loved ones or even the lightness that spreads in her voice when she realizes it’s you on the phone; maybe it’s the nervous tap dance of shoe soles on hardwood floors waiting for her to walk through the front door. Seriously, what if love is only truly definable by taste? Chocolate could literally be the taste of love for all we know. It could also be the tangy bitter flavor of the skin of your lover after hours of intense…conversations. We have no idea how love was defined thousands of years ago before language was invented. The more I learn, the less I feel I know about love. What I am certain of is every notion of love I once held is slowly crumbling around me like sandcastles at the beach in late afternoon. Is it possible to love when you are unsure of how to explain it? I don’t know. I say I love, yet I’m told actions speak louder than words. Ok, my actions, but if the person tells you not to act, does that mean my inaction is now indifference and thus no longer love?

I asked someone to explain love, she couldn’t at first. Later in the day she sent me this text, “Love is what grows between two people, and their exchange feeds it. To have strong feelings for someone is your invitation to that one to love.” And English isn’t even her first language… So it made me think. Forget about another person, have I ever “invited” myself to love? Honestly, there are countless books written about self-love. I’ve read a total of ZERO in my life. I love myself.. I think. Or I thought I did up until last week. I wonder if love is something we cannot truly describe until we meet that person that helps us create the very definition. Then, it might be that our idea of love changes as we grow into the person who is capable of living the definition we set. I really don’t know.

I do know that there are certain expectations we associate and attach to the word love. You say you love someone, and they will judge your actions on a much higher level. If so, then I have not loved myself in a long time. I eat like a 12 year old orphan, luckily I’m blessed with über genetics that allows me to not look like my diet. I have partially healed injuries that even affect the very breaths I take. If one of my friends was “loved” by their significant other how I have loved myself through the years I’d implore them to end the relationship. “He’s taking you for granted” I’d say, “His treatment of you borders on abuse at times” I’d lament, “He hardly listens to what you are saying and now he’s not even having sex with you!” Sounds like I need to break-up with myself. But that’s not something you can really do, unless you die and I’m not into such an extreme measure.

It is highly likely no universally accepted definition will ever exist for love, when I think about it that may be a good thing. If there is no blanket catch-all statement for love, then that means each and every one of us can set our own standards and ideals. My definition is going to have to include something on eating healthier, rehabilitating old injuries and learning to increase the volume of my inner voice. I think I’m extending an invitation to get to a place where I love me more than I do at this moment.

In case you are wondering, for me, love is a collection of words that depend on each other to create the meaning you want them to be. If you take one of those words away, then you stop having love and only a random collection of meaningless words, trust, honesty, respect, loyalty, compassion, comfort, understanding, strength, courage, hope, faith and commitment. But just in case they are only words, I’m going to have a piece of chocolate to double check…

Day.. No idea and it’s not important anymore because I’m constantly learning and growing.

PLUS 1

I am keenly aware that there are a few enquiring minds interested in my plans now that my 90 days are complete. I’m also aware of the possible interest in helping me officially end my sexual purgatory with a reintroduction to the pleasures of femininity. It is my ego that ponders small minded matters such as those, but it does ponder… Nonetheless, as much as I have revealed in the process publicly, there are a few things I preferred to keep to myself and a select group as I made progress. If you’ve read the first blog Cold Turkey until the last 0, then it’s safe to assume you won’t mind reading one more.

I’ll let you in on a little secret; I didn’t change April 28 on day 90. The transformation that took place in me was brewing for quite awhile. People will tell you I was always headed in this direction; it’s that the process was accelerated exponentially in January. There was literally this light bulb moment where everything was properly in focus and clouds rolled back to reveal the truth. It was such a life altering experience. The catalyst for this ascension was a woman, or more specifically my love for a woman. Let me explain clearly that my conversion is not for this woman in the least. She and I becoming us again is not the element that fuels my passion to be better. However, my love for this woman.. I cannot even begin to explain the depth of my love for this woman. I lack the mastery of the English language to even try to do so. My love for this woman was my salvation.

My plan now is to continue moving forward. The definition of FORWARD according to Webster’s Online Dictionary is; deviating radically from convention or tradition. I include that only because it seems a few do not understand the significance of the word. What was the norm for me is no longer acceptable on any level, EVER. I know for most of my adult life I acted out sexually first. I felt extremely comfortable partaking in sex, but offering little else emotionally or spiritually. What if I, for once, just to try it out, waited to have sex until there was no doubt there was more than just sexual chemistry between us? Honestly, I have never even considered it as a possibility to connect with a woman on a deeper level before sex comes into play, lowering my walls, experiencing true intimacy, all foreign to me like the far side of the moon, yet ready to be discovered. I’ll go even one step further, by 2012 I want to be married and I’m willing to wait for that woman. It’s highly possible that last statement left a few mouths agape. Sadly, I know there are ones thinking negatively of this proclamation. For a second I’ll indulge you and break it down. If I’d said in 2012 I want to have a new car or buy a house or even have FUNomenal Family Entertainment Center up and running you wouldn’t have thought twice. Why is it perfectly acceptable for a person to express readiness for acquisition of inanimate objects that mean very little in the grand scheme of life? It’s not because of my age, I’m not lonely, I don’t have mounting pressure from my mother to produce more grandchildren..Well, Ok, a little. It all comes down to me being ready. I used these 2160 hours since January 28th to reaffirm my worthiness to give and receive love unconditionally. I am ready in a way I have never been in my life, simple as that. I’m giving it up to God, sending it out into the universe and projecting it onto any other deity that sex, while fun, is not fulfilling my soul and making love with my wife is what I crave now.

Let me truly express it here for all of you in black and white. This woman, whoever she may be, whether I already know the rhythm of her heartbeat or am required to learn its subtle nuances, I have no fear to make her one of the most important aspects of my life. I am no longer afraid to admit to her, my friends, my family, me or the world how much her love means to me. How her very presence forces me to grab hold of something for fear the power of what is coursing through my veins will propel me to the heavens. I am certain she will be enough to always bring me home, to our home into her embrace. As a man I am imperfect, with her love I am sure we will form a perfect union. I welcome the moments that will all too quickly blend into years as I cradle her in my arms late at night looking upon her face as she drifts off to sleep silently whispering prayers of gratitude for having finally found her. The music played on my heartstrings while watching her with our children will be honey sweet. I am no longer afraid to give all of me and in return take all of her knowing I am worthy of every morsel, every drop, crumb and fiber of her unconditional love. I know not who she is, where she is or what she is doing right now, but I am sitting on my balcony, catching the last rays of a sleepy sun, listening to soft music with a knowing smile on my lips and stray tears glistening in my eyelashes. There, the bravest thing I’ve ever done, admit I’m a hopeless romantic and convinced 2012 will be my time, our time.

So, unless there are any more questions, I have to get back to my preparations, I have a wedding to prepare for after all and I have much more growing to do until that day. From the bottom of my heart I thank you all and wish you nothing but the best. Day 90+1, Ready for what awaits me…

0

When I started this little endeavor, I had an idea of where I wanted to go, forward. But I had no inkling of what was in store for me along the way. Ninety days was my goal, 90 days is what I’ve completed. As I write this final blog to commemorate my accomplishment, I’m sitting on the subway surrounded by people I don’t know and will likely never see again. I’m not cracking open a celebratory beer or downing a “You did it!” shot. I’m not in my living room furiously scribbling words because there is a half-naked woman purring for me to finish and re-enter the realm of the sexually active. No, it’s just me, my pen, a pad of paper and my feelings. This is how it should be. My best friend wrote me suggesting I should celebrate the occasion, indulge myself. Maybe, then I thought about how women take care of house and home for 364 days out of the year, cleaning house, taking care of the children and cooking meals. A man tries it one day, does a half-assed job then expects a damn medal or key to the city. I kept my dick in my pants for 3 months, big fucking deal. I did what I should’ve done years before. It might have saved me and a few other people a lot of heartache. No, there will be no celebration for this feat. Besides, I said countless times before it wasn’t about the sex. If I deserve any type of praise, it should be for trying to be as honest as possible with myself for 3 months, I’ve confronted negative aspects of my personality, questioned the motives behind my actions, dived into the murky depths of my insecurities and looked my oldest fears directly in the eye…publicly. You know, when I put it like that, guess I do deserve a pat on the back. Actually, a hug would be better. I’m partial to hugs these days as I have so little physical contact.

So, this may seem a bit anti-climatic to some, but as I keep reiterating, this is a journey. No prizes are handed out to the participants of a marathon halfway through the race. They are only offered encouragement to continue on until the end. In fact, I see these 90 days as a sort of warm-up. Now is when things really begin. Can I maintain my current course while not limiting my exposure to the world at large? In many ways this is akin to the recovering addict who has completed a 90 day treatment center. It is easy to talk the talk in the safety of a clinic with a full-time staff to monitor your behavior. It is another to be out in the real world faced with actual temptation beckoning and resist its siren song. My blog in essence was my treatment center and you the readers the staff. Now, it’s only me. I do thank those who have supported me on this journey immensely. Your words inspired me and were literally the strength I needed to take another step on this path in my moments of weakness. To those that eventually grasped this was a personal narrative and stopped attempting to hijack my story, my admiration. I know intimately how difficult it is not to let ego and pride color ones vision of a person you care about. Finally, to those who never got it and tried to constantly steer me off-road… go kick rocks.

Well, that’s all folks, nothing left to see here but a man, an amazing man albeit, but a man nonetheless trying to live a life, an extraordinary life, but a life nevertheless that expresses and gives love freely and impartially and striving to be the best he can be…one day at a time. Day 90, and it truly begins…

OPEN LETTER

Dear Carl,

Either you are braver than I first gave you credit for to expose yourself to the unknown as you have done, or you are more stupid than I ever imagined to put your demons on display in the all remembering blogosphere. No matter which label applies, I do have to give you some respect for attempting something I have no shame in admitting thought you entirely incapable of, change. Oh, you spoke about it plenty of times in casual conversation. You certainly wrote about wanting to change in that damn journal of yours. You even gave some half-hearted attempts after some heart-broken woman laid her grief at your feet. But REAL change, like truly altered state, unlike you were before change, something completely different change? Nope, I didn’t believe it. At some point along the line when I was distracted you up and became a man. To go against the grain, leave what is comfortable behind and venture out into the wilderness… that takes true courage. Ok, you are brave; at least that much I can give you. Nonetheless, you are still retarded for A.) Blogging about it and B.) Your journals. Until you burn those things I won’t ever feel completely safe.

So, 90 days. Where did that number even come from anyway? You’ve gone a lot longer without sex before in your life. AND you did it when you were much younger when the testosterone levels were sky high. Is it really about no sex? Or is it to create this aura so women will fight to be the one you end it with? I know you better than most and you can be one manipulative calculating motherfucker. It could simply be about you using the time to focus your energy on more important things than pleasure of the body, like fulfillment of the soul. If that is so, then dare I say it, you finally stopped being afraid of your potential. Have you accepted the greatness that resides in you, turned to embrace it instead of fleeing the responsibility it entails at every turn? If that be true and you have conquered that all encompassing fear that once guided your hand, than I have to be man enough to admit I was wrong about you on so many levels.

I am proud of you. I don’t utter those words lightly. You know me all too well and have experience with how tightly I withhold my praise for you. I am proud of you in a way that no one else could be or will ever be. Also, I think I owe you an apology for ever doubting you. But, I think you know I owe you an apology for a far more serious crime. I’m sorry for trying to hold you back. It’s one thing to not believe in someone’s dreams, it’s a complete other thing to prevent them from reaching a dream. I tried my best to sabotage your efforts. I systematically did what I could to always bring you back to the Carl I knew and felt safe around. I’m so so sorry for that. If I am going to show even an ounce of the courage you have shown, then I have to admit it was fear I let tarnish our relationship. I was afraid of you, I was afraid for you, I was afraid of losing you. I was afraid of so many things. I started out writing this letter to do what I’ve done so many times in the past, fill your head with white noise to block out the sound of your soul. But now, I sit here with actual tears in my eyes immensely impressed and downright amazed with you as a human being, as a person and as a man.

Now, let me give you some advice. Yeah, yeah, I know I haven’t always given you the soundest advice in the past. But you have to admit, in the end, it was always your decision to follow my instructions or not. You always had the power to walk away so you can’t blame me for everything. Don’t get so frustrated with the people who don’t get it. They have their own path to take and sometimes they don’t realize it’s a personal journey we each have. Walking behind a person trying to tell them where they should be going isn’t the same as someone walking beside you offering encouragement. Relax and don’t take it to heart. Next, never give up until your heart tells you to give up. Never listen to what anyone else says. Usually they are jealous you are putting so much effort into something not them, or your unwavering belief causes them to doubt their own paths’. If it’s your heart you are truly following, it will never tell you to give up, only regroup, rethink and refocus. Only the universe knows the limit to the love in your heart. Love is the unknown x factor man! As long as there is love beating in your chest, there is always hope. Another thing, it’s ok to get angry from time to time. Even Buddhist monks learned Kung-Fu and had to get a lil gangsta from time to time. Just control the anger and use it to fuel your ambitions. Accept every part of you, and that includes your temper. The last two pieces of advice are similar and for most people should be obvious, but as smart as you are… Find out if it’s possible to remove blogs from the internet permanently. “I’ve never been faithful to a girlfriend or anyone I’ve seriously dated in my life, EVER.”??? Really crack baby?? REALLY?? You’re killin’ me. Lastly, get rid of those damn journals! You ain’t no black Hank Moody where people will want to know all about your sordid sexual past. I don’t even know if the statute of limitations has passed on some of the stuff you mention in those things. Burn them, seriously. Then stand back and watch the green smoke billow out.

I don’t know what the future holds for you Mr. Carl, but at this moment, I’m in awe of you. I’ve held you back long enough in this lifetime, if you can commit to a profound change that is about being a better man, than I promise right here to commit to being a better friend. When I think about all you’ve accomplished with me hindering you with everything at my disposal, I literally cannot even fathom the heights you can achieve. I know you haven’t heard these words often from me, but I love you man. I truly and sincerely love you.

Yours for life,
Carl

PS Did you have to put the ever in capital letters??

PSS I’m serious about those journals!

PSSS Day 81 negro! Don't FUCK it up with only 9 days to go!

I WONDER...

“I’ve never been faithful to a girlfriend or anyone I’ve seriously dated in my life, EVER.” CW

I wonder what it would feel like to be on the opposite side of those words, to have my face pressed against the glass, cupping my face just so to cut down on the glare and get a true glimpse of what’s inside. What would it make me feel like if I dated someone, cared for someone, fretted over someone’s well-being, spent countless nights laying awake in bed attempting to comprehend why someone refused to lower their walls and let me close, I wonder what memories would I question as being real or fabricated, how many times would I be able to recall where an excuse was given for cancelling or not being able to make it and contemplate its authenticity. I wonder how my anger would burn. Would it burn right below the surface of my skin sending tendrils of smoke through the pores of my skin? Or maybe it would be deeper, in the pit of my stomach, emitting an even white-hot heat that would flame even the coldest recess of my heart.

I wonder how stupid I would feel for falling for the well-crafted lies spoken from lips I didn’t know where they’d last been. Would I wonder about the love they professed to have for me and sweep it up with all the other tender moments shared as false? I wonder if I would feel any less special than what I’d been led to believe late at night while laying on sheets creased from hours of passionate love-making and dusted with the faint lingering scent of spent desire.

I am sure I would wonder, wonder and question every promise, every shared moment, and every spoken word. I would wonder about me, I would wonder about you, I would wonder about us…
I have cheated you of treasured memories, remembered pleasure, a layer of self-confidence and caused you to wonder about the very essence of yourself.

You wonder as I wondered so many years ago. I comprehend fully the thoughts quietly invading your subconsciousness. I wonder often how I, who knows so intimately the uncertainty and anger this can cause, could bring this on someone I care so much about.

I wonder if you will be stronger than I and not let the failures of another affect your interactions with those you love. I also wonder if you have the fortitude to leave the past in the past and not walk with it hand in hand for years to come as I did. I wonder how many times you would need to stop and wipe the tears from your eyes over my faults and I wonder how many deep breaths you need to still your fluttering heart. Unfortunately, I also wonder about who he is that will comfort you. I wonder about so many of these things…

But there are some things I will never wonder about, the love in my heart being true and the change that has occurred in my soul.

Day 69, putting one foot in front of the other….

GUILT-ME

There is this TV series, Dexter, where the main character is a serial killer. He calls the uncontrollable savage urge within him that yearns for murder and blood, the Dark Passenger. Now, my Dark Passenger is not quite so wild and has never compelled me to literally take a life. However, it did steer my hand figuratively to destroy and maim. As poignant a label as the Dark Passenger is, I’ll call my old friend by his more appropriate name, the painful companion, or better yet, as he is known in most circles, guilt. I heard in passing once that the most difficult person to forgive is you and it is the first person in most cases we need to forgive; how true, how difficult.

Many have asked how I broke free of the gravity of the black hole of my depression. I’ve given various answers, but never really the honest answer. Partly, I was apprehensive. No, I was afraid, afraid to reveal what is behind the last door. For someone who believed knowledge is power and providing no knowledge made me all powerful, then this act would leave me powerless. Yet, if I’ve truly left behind my painful companion and made real change, then my power is now gained from another source now.

Here is where I should insert name and tell a story that lays out the origins of my guilt. But, I’ve never been one to follow the rules. Besides, if you know me, then you already know this background info. In a previous blog I mentioned making someone my destination, my reason for change was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made. I don’t possess the literary talent to properly express how utterly devastated I was because of all the guilt I’d allowed to accumulate within the confines of my consciousness. “Guilt is anger directed at ourselves” Peter McWilliams said once. Someone give that man a kewpie doll because he’s won the prize for hitting the nail on the head. I was angry at self-perceived shortcomings as a man, which in turn made me feel guilty when I felt I couldn’t fulfill someone’s expectations. It didn’t matter if those expectations were realistic or not, me being unable to meet them is all I saw. Guilt was my master and anger was the overseer lashing my black ass to increase the pace to my loneliness and ruin. So, for me it all started with forgiveness. It was the key that unlocked the chains around my heart and provided me with the map to freedom. Without that letting go, none of who I am trying to become would be possible. Forgiving myself did not solve any of my problems, but it did give me permission to begin correcting them.

On a final note, I have asked for forgiveness from people I’ve hurt and offended in my time on this earth. Now however, I have finally let go and forgiven myself for not treating you as you deserved to be #1 in my life. I forgive myself for not getting on the plane to go to Taiwan. I forgive myself for acting like an ass at dinner and making you cry in my bathroom. I forgive myself scaring you with my anger over a stupid film. I forgive myself for walking out of your door and into another woman’s arms. I forgive myself for not being man enough to come forward and let an entire year pass between the best of friends without communication. I forgive myself for acting out of hurt and writing the ugly things I said in my email. Most importantly, I forgive myself for being too afraid to stop you walking out of my life. I forgive me so I no longer am guilt-me. Day 55, still free…

BACK TO DAY 1

She looked at me with expectation in her eyes. She patiently waited, knowing I was there for a purpose and only needed a few moments to reach the conclusion. I had fleeting thoughts of disappointment in myself and anger at my weakness, but I had no time for those thoughts right then and shoved them aside so easily it surprised me. I was there to break my personal promise, my vow. I walked into her place knowing full well my actions were going to cause a detour on my journey, not a concern at all. After the briefest moment of hesitation, so brief in fact I can’t even lie to myself that I showed any semblance of will power, I took a step closer to her. She casually brushed a lonely hair that had lost its way out of her eye and smiled that coy smile of hers, the one that tells nothing but promises everything. A twinkle in her eye propelled me to step yet closer and lean in… “I would like a Berliner donut and caramel streusel please.” I had just asked for not one, but TWO pastries at my local bakery! I had decided to eat only healthy food for the next two weeks and dammit if on the second, SECOND day of this plan I folded like a deck of cards. Comfort food, the craving for something I could find comfort in was stronger than my desire to improve my eating habits.

Because I’m well into my other journey, I take harder looks at my actions and attempt to find the motive behind why I do particular things. I eat pastries and drink chocolate milk not only because I love them, I partake in that indulgence especially when I feel vulnerable, unsure and threatened. The amount of sugar I consume and digest is directly correlated to my emotional well-being. My intake of cream filled this and caramel topped that skyrocketed in the last 2 years. Throw in the chocolate milks I feel obliged to include while eating said treats and you get the point. If it wasn’t for great DNA, I’d be Fat Albert around here. The pull of high fructose corn syrup and powdered sugar was due to some negative feedback on my last blog post. I realize now how sensitive I can be when I’m trying to lower my walls and do not get the reaction I believe I should receive. I speak generally and not about a single blog post and it is irrelevant what the people said. What is important is how their words made me feel.

A dear friend explained when I first floated the idea of these blog posts that reactions would not always be solely based on my words, but also on the fears and insecurities the readers were dealing with in their interactions or history with me. My words were not the cause of their ill feelings, but they were the spark in a house full of the dry kindling of emotions, personal doubts and unfulfilled expectations. My response to their accusations was to add flammable liquid. As mindboggling as it may seem, I was never aware of how me acting defensively, lashing out verbally in response to being hurt or attempting to belittle someone’s opinion might make the situation spiral out of control. As sweet, caring and nurturing as I can be, the ability to read a person’s emotional needs also allowed me to be quite cruel when I wanted. It’s almost comical now to reminisce about my frustration levels interacting with women I dated.

The simple truth is, it will be impossible for me to have a long term healthy relationship until I get these factors under control. The first step is to stop taking everything to heart. There is a boiler in the pit of my stomach that is fed on the black coal of perceived disrespect and those embers are fanned by the steady wind of fear and ego. It’s almost an instinctual reaction when I feel I’ve been slighted and my anger is a slow white hot burn that lingers for days, months and in some cases years. Not healthy at all on any level, no need to email or text me because I’m already keenly aware of it. Thing is though, I’m working through it. I still get defensive when someone tries to tell me change is impossible. I certainly clench my fists in annoyance when someone laments about how my past actions affected their life and yes, my temperature rises when someone insists that me still having love in my heart for an ex is unhealthy. Instead of ignoring these peeople, or even removing them from my life, which means unfriending them on Facebook these days, I take a day to relax and cool down, contemplate why they might feel how they do, comprehend my role in the situation, then I take a deep breath and I’m better. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself. It isn’t healthy to eat a high number of pastries every week along with drinking chocolate milk, but occasionally indulging my cravings of sweet things won’t cause too much difference, especially since I’m back in the gym. After all, it’s about balance, one Boston Crème donut VS. Not stressing over someone who is bitter they aren’t my Wednesday. I believe that is an indication I’m further along than I was yesterday. Day 39 of leaving unimportant things behind, Day 1 on going 3 days without a donut and chocolate milk. Some things need to be started with baby steps…

CONFESSIONS

This blog isn’t about my past exploits or sordid past; it’s about me taking this journey I’m on to yet another level. I don’t feel comfortable exposing myself publicly as I’ve done lately, it’s against the very core of my nature and it reveals what I’ve painstakingly protected with massive barriers and silence for years, me. It’s a constant internal battle to push the “publish” button on each blog post. Nevertheless, here I grow…

A book I read theorizes that a person needs 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert in some field, my field of expertise was being a Player. This is no boast, only a fact. I have my 10,000 hours. Most men who apply the “Player” label to themselves would pinpoint the age of puberty when they started their “training” at 12-14 years old. I on the other hand began much younger. I remember my “training” beginning around the age of 4. You see, my “training” came from someone who unknowingly took my natural ability to get a read on emotions and honed it to near perfection with hands on instruction. This schooling came from an unlikely source, my mother.

Trust me when I say this isn’t one of those blogs where an adult fails to take responsibility for their actions by blaming their parents for their shortcomings. I love my mother unconditionally and even without all of my friends constantly reminding me, know how FUNomenal the woman is. No buts at all. The conditions my mother experienced and endured in her life played out in mine as well. If you read my mother’s book, Healing for my Hurt: A Journey to Wholeness: Finding My Father, Finding Myself, you can find it online for purchase here, http://www.amazon.com/Healing-Hurt-Journey-Wholeness-Finding/dp/1449004687/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1/180-6812881-8884148 you’ll see the obstacles she has overcome and why I’m so proud of her. Plus it’s a good read! A synopsis is, my mother grew up without a father until she was 56, then was married, to my father, for 13 years which from my own memories and recollections was loud, angry, painful and unfulfilling. Imagine being a woman who has either had a lack of interaction with a man she wants to know desperately, her father, or an unhealthy interaction with a man she wanted to love, her husband. Then I was born. I was groomed to be utterly attentive to my mother’s innate needs. I say that with no malice or regret. I love my mother through and through. As I aged, I became increasingly adept at knowing when and how to provide comfort to my mother. I learned how to apply the emotional salve she craved expertly. I know how much my mother suffered, even if I didn’t entirely understand why. I empathized and did what I could to lesson her pain, I never asked twice for anything, never complained no matter how bad it was, I was a midget stoic. Can you see how this “training” supersedes anything any man could acquire? As a child, I knew I was meant to do something that was imperative, but lacking adequate comprehension I saw it as a task, something to do before watching cartoons or going out to play. My skill at detecting the subtle nuances of a woman’s emotional needs is unparalleled. This talent in itself can be a wonderful thing. I believe, however, due to other circumstances, my learning to connect emotionally was nourished while my being comfortable enough to allow the reciprocation was stunted.

If we could look over the course of my adult life, you see the same pattern over and over again, me providing what a woman desires, on every level. I plugged myself directly into their wants and went about it in such a way that they were convinced we had a spiritual connection, that we shared something unique and special. Many were willing to stake everything on that belief. I on the other hand was only doing what I’d been conditioned to do, a task to complete, a chore if you will. The level of confusion, frustration and misunderstandings on both sides were sky high. I couldn’t comprehend why such a big deal was made about something I did for everyone, while women couldn’t understand why I fought against what they wanted to give so desperately. I’m not saying it was always mindless work for me. At times, with certain people, and I hope they know who they are, it wasn’t a job, but came naturally as breathing. Unfortunately, I still hadn’t learned to allow them within my walls. I honestly had no idea what was meant to be done. I resisted all attempts to reveal Carl. My level of discontent was always in the danger zone. I could only go a certain amount of time around people before I became almost physically ill. Even being in the presence of others could be too much for me and I would become a recluse for days, hiding out in my apartment completely disengaged from the world. Bad enough when your single making friends worry, almost unforgiveable in a relationship. I think what I’m trying to say is, people could always sense this huge space I placed between them and myself, yet, they were always drawn to me and intrigued by how quickly I was able to get them to feel safe and comfortable. That was something I saw as my purpose, to appease. My distance was created because I was afraid of the unknown. I knew what to expect when people opened up to me, but it was all uncharted territory when I was expected to do the same. Now, I am attempting to map that territory.

I am a work in progress in every sense of the word. I am attempting to allow people past my buffer zone and peak behind the curtain to catch a glimpse of the wizard. It’s difficult on many levels for me, but I’m trying. A couple of people I consider to be friends, good friends because I care about both of them immensely, sent me emails. I believe their emails were sent with only the best intentions. These emails questioned the appropriateness of making my journey so public. Both friends made very valid points about why it might not be the best way to go about things. I however explained to them, for too long I kept EVERYONE out and lived in a self imposed solitary confinement, opening the door for all to see forces me to clean up the mess. Much harder to hide anything, and I’m tired of hiding. I think it was Albert Einstein who said insanity is defined by doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results. It’s time to do something different, with that, more blogs to follow. Day 28 still learning…

WEDNESDAY

It was 1:43am and I had long given up trying to sleep. I had tried counting everything, focusing on releasing energy, meditating, all of it. My brain was so preoccupied I didn’t even realize I’d left my hallway door open and Chewy had slipped into my bedroom. This normally would be met with a swift rebuke, but I hardly noticed until I changed my position from staring at the ceiling to surveying the clutter in my bedroom and my eyes locked on Chewy, who was half concealed in the jeans I’d stepped out of earlier. For a second, I believed I was only in a strange dream about not being able to sleep and Chewy was some symbolic representation I’d have to decipher once awake. When I raised my head slightly, Chewy saw this as an invitation and stood at the edge of the mattress whining to be petted and played with. I glanced at the clock again and figured a walk would do both Chewy and I some good. Chewy was overjoyed of course; unexpected walk to a dog is like hitting 5 numbers on the 6 number lottery.

Outside I tried calming myself down, willing myself to relax. It didn’t really help. I was seeing her tomorrow. It was the first time I’d seen her since I told her to leave. She wanted to stay, fought to stay, but I fought harder to keep my eyes sealed and heart cold. It’s been a lifetime since I’ve looked into her eyes and I’d get to see her on Wednesday. My insecurities were playing horror films on the screen of my psyche about how it would play out. I had the jitters like a recovering addict in a room full of powdery temptation.

After I emerged from my depression cave and basked in the light, reacquainting myself with the colors of the world, my heart literally called her name, asked for her. But, there was no answer. You can’t expect a person not to listen when you tell them to go so many times. Rarely does reality match our expectations. My reality? She has a new boyfriend who she cares for very much. She feels he could be the one. More importantly, she wants him to be. I went into Wednesday fully aware of that. Still, I was walking Chewy at 2:30am because the thought of sitting across from her sent copious amounts of adrenaline surging directly to my gut, my soul was aflame.

Wednesday. She looked breathtaking. Interesting the things you fail to see with your eyes closed. I saw her for her, this incredible woman who I love incredibly. Memory is not only stored in the brain. I believe other body parts can hold memories and ache at loss. My fingertips longed to caress her jaw line, be run through the length of her dark hair, trace the contours of her full lips. But in her eyes, I saw another. Her love is hers to give as she pleases and she has decided. I wanted to tell her so much, but “I must have rehearsed my lines, a thousand times, but when I see you they don’t come out right..” I was so dumb struck. What I wanted to say was, “Even in my darkest moments, I was still drawn to you. Even when I fought so hard to make you leave, you loved me. I was numb when I let you walk out of my apartment. Yet, the moment my heart began to sing again, it was your name it sang clear and sweet. I thought loving you made me weak when in actuality it makes me more powerful than I ever thought possible. Even if you are not here with me, I am finally not afraid to say I love you.”

I could go on, but this is a blog, not a book. You know what was so great about that Wednesday? I stopped being afraid. I learned the hard way many years ago you can’t make someone your destination, your motive or your inspiration for aspiring to change. If the ending you’ve created in your dreams doesn’t come true, you become even more bitter and disillusioned than before. I’m not afraid because I know what is in my heart is true and real. I’m on a journey, a lifelong journey. Maybe my path and this amazing woman who captured my heart will run parallel again in the future, then we might be ready to continue on together. If life has other plans, I’m not even worried. Love is energy and it cannot be destroyed, only changed. Like her, it is my love to give and I may choose and decide anytime I wish. I have an entire life of Wednesdays awaiting me. Day 19 and still going…

TAILS FROM THE BOO BOO SIDE

I know it may seem like I don’t love Chewy with my observations of him. I do. The lil flurry nut licker has created his own space in my heart and made it has own. In saying that, my frustration level with this dog reaches untold heights with some of the stuff he does.

Every living thing on the planet has to expel excess waste from its system. I don’t know any of them though, that make as big of a production of it as Chewy does. The truly odd thing is he didn’t always do it! Now that he’s all of 1 year old, he’s picking up some odd habits that are seriously undermining my confidence as a dog owner.

You know the little routine dogs do right before they drop a deuce? That’s make a stinky for my European friends. The routine is they find a spot they like, turn around in a circle a few times, then deliver the package, really easy, very simple, very effective. It takes 5 seconds at most for them from start to finish. Chewy? He will do the sniffing around bit normal enough, but the turning around a few times he needs to work on. He freakin’ makes me dizzy from the number of times he turns around. Then he stops, changes direction, then does the same thing again! I built a special device that records dog’s thoughts. What?! Oh, so a black man can’t invent miraculous inventions?? Anyway, through the power of my amazing device I created we now know what Chewy contemplates while deciding where to take a dump. “OkOkOkOk, maybe here, or here.. or here. Nonono all wrong, all wrong. Here might be good. Wait! No. Wait! Yes! Actually… OkOkOkOk. Uuumm…Yeahyeahyeah, this is perfect! Then again…” It’s like he’s the doggy Woody Allen. Then, 5 minutes of chasing his tail, he looks up at me with this look that says, “I can’t go with you looking at me. You make me nervous.” Cheese and rice Chewy! Just cop a squat and handle your business! You’re a dog! Crapping in public is fine because I’m the one who has to pick your shit up!

And lately, Chewy is on some sadistic level bowel movements with WHERE he’s craping lately. Now, he’s taking dumps on dog crap already on the ground! Once is luck, twice is unusual, four times in a row and the little fucker is doing it on purpose. Why? No clue, but it’s just wrong on so many levels. Damn you Chewy! I wanna be able to pick your shit up without having moral and ethical dilemmas. Oh, something else unnatural he’s doing, backing his ass up on trees that have grown at an angle so he can crap on a tree. (-_-) Soo NOT funny. I shit you not, I mean, can you imagine the level of cunning and deviousness needed to come up with something like that?? Taking a shit ON a tree?? Not the roots people! But the muthafuggin TRUNK of the tree! Imagine walking down a street and seeing a black man scraping shit off of a tree muttering to a dog, “Who taught you this Chewy?? Did you learn this from your brother Brutus? Shittin on a tree, a tree Chewy? A muthafuggin TREE?? I’m taking yo ass to a doggie psychologist cause I know this stems from something DEEP!” You’d think I was crazy wouldn’t you? To make it worse, as I said before, Chewy is only hearing, “Blahblahblah blah blah blahblah Chewy. Blah blah Chewy.” I feel obligated to scrape the shit off the tree because it’s winter. My over-thinking self can just picture the stuff freezing on the tree and some lil kid or short bus rider walking by thinking it’s some new exotic urban fungi. Next thing you know I have a letter in the mail from a lawyer being sued for poisoning someone’s kid.

Another thing Chewy does which I’m trying to break him of is taking things off my coffee table and chewing them up. He’s especially fond of headphones, Airwaves chewing gum, business cards and the last, toothbrushes. Well, Chewy doesn’t chew on toothbrushes, he eats them. No joke! He really eats them. I left an old toothbrush on the table, forgetting to throw it away. I went to work, came back a few hours later and I only found half a toothbrush. Really, half of it was gone, disappeared, vanished. I thought Chewy had snapped it in two and hid the other half. Didn’t think too much about it, but in the back of my mind I kinda sorta thought he could’ve eaten it, but wasn’t convinced. I give Chewy the empty toilet paper spools, which he loves, and rips them to shreds, but not EAT. Well, I took Chewy with me to Karl-Marx Straße later that day. For people who don’t know Berlin at all, Karl-Marx Straße is like the ghetto Mecca shopping area of my neighborhood. This street is always packed also, especially on Fridays like it was that day. I’m waiting with Chewy outside H&M for someone to come out and Chewy starts yelping really loud. Of course everyone turned around to see why, including me. Chewy is one of the quietest dogs ever. He never makes a peep! I love him for that. So when he makes noise, I take it seriously. Then his yelps got even more desperate and louder. I was on my knees checking him all over to see what was wrong, speaking to him softly, petting him to calm him down, nothing was working. Then, Chewy assumes the position, the boo boo position. I’m like “Uh-oh”, we’re on a busy street and this of course is the ONE time I’m caught with no plastic poop bags. With the amount of noise Chewy is making I’m worried he might be giving birth. His cries get louder and shriller; a couple of people even stop to ask me if he’s Ok. Then, out of Chewy’s ass pops a damn aquarium pebble. You know those rocks they put in the bottom of aquariums that are all multi-florescent colored? It looked exactly like that. I of course was like WTF?? I’m honestly baffled. Chewy is still pushing and yelping and more aquarium rocks come out of his butt. Then, an actual turd came out next. It literally looked like someone had taken this piece of crap and rolled it around in a Trix cereal batter. It was a kaleidoscope turd of green, blues and yellows. But if you put that one up to your eye I don’t think you’d see anything pretty. This homeless guy selling the Motz (a homeless paper) ambles over to give me his two cents worth, “I’d take that dog food back if I were you. Not doing your dog right in the stomach.” You think I would intentionally feed my dog food that makes his crap look like THAT?? Get outta my face. By now, Chewy is looking hurt UP. His legs are trembling, he’s still whimpering and crying out, he’s pleading with his eyes to help him. What could I do? Then he pushed out another alien turd. This time though, I recognized something… are those..wait…are those toothbrush bristles? You are pushing out a hard bristle toothbrush Chewy?? Poor Chewy! No wonder he was in so much pain. I bet those bristles were wearing his little asshole OUT. Finally he finished. Chewy was fucking ESTATIC! He was doing the Chewy dance where he twists his body so his head is near his butt and shakes his tail so hard his entire body shakes. Only problem now is, we’re on a main street with no plastic bag or even tissues. The person I was waiting for came out of H&M and I pointed to the pile of LSD excrement Chewy produced. She was like, “Oooooooh, what’s thaaaaat? Wait!? Is that kaka?? Ew! What did he eat!?” I still get tears in my eyes from laughing so hard thinking about that. She thought it was pretty at first. She sounded like a little kid seeing cotton candy for the first time, then realizing there is a bugger on it. Whew! Oh man, I think Chewy learned his lesson. Either way, that’s my dawg!

AROUSAL

You know those nightmares where even after you’ve woken up and began your day, the residual chill and fear you experienced the night before clings to the crevices of your psyche like sand between your toes after a day at the beach? That was the last 2 years of my life. I felt like I was in this fluid nightmare state whose grasp I couldn’t completely break free of. The inexplicable thing about the entire situation is, I wasn’t aware of the depth of my despair. I had no idea how far into the abyss I had waded. I’d created this alternate universe, a bizzaro world if you will of epic proportions, I wasn’t deserving of love, I was a fool to believe anyone would ever love me, no one was to be trusted and worst of all, my love had no power. The list goes on and on, and on..and on… I was so profoundly lost that the very notion of discovering a way out, finding me in the darkness seemed unfathomable, I was broken, but didn’t know what was broken and even if I did know where the breakdown had occurred, I was terrified I didn’t have the tools to rectify the situation. That feeling, frustration stacked on top of confusion, pressed upon disillusion caught upon insecurity creates a hopelessness of the worst kind.

I know I’m not the only person who has shed hot tears of dismay at night while writhing in tangible agony feeling powerless to make the aching stop, then, at daybreak, clutching at mental hooks to keep your sanity as you sleep walk through another meaningless day. The only sound is the loneliness you’re surrounded in echoing off the walls you’ve barricaded yourself behind. The only sensation the change between utter numbness or extreme fear. In quiet moments you find yourself wishing for that magical sleep where once you open your eyes you've begun the next lifetime where things may be better because they can't get any worse.

This desolate picture I’m painting only consists of swirls of gray, splashes of black and dabs of indigo blue. Yet, I had other colors available. There was a full pallet of intense yellows, brilliant greens and fiery reds ready to be incorporated into my life. I just was blind to anything outside my tunnel vision of depression.

Even now, as I squint in the light of remembrance, I sit back in amazement when confronted with the simple truth. I was never imprisoned in a world of darkness; I only had my eyes squeezed tight to brilliance. My solitude was entirely self-imposed. While I believed I was fighting against a current of blackness, in reality I was fighting against the arms of those who loved me reaching out to embrace me. When my insecurity had warped my mind and convinced me I was adrift in a sea of criticism, in actuality I was floating in a calm lagoon of encouragement. Worst of all, when I felt there was no one, with only the reverberations of emptiness to answer my cries for help, those rebounds were the voices of loved ones pleading with me to only open my eyes.

Now, after so many lost moments of being closed so long to the flame of possibility, my eyes are finally open. Completely, 100% open and I can see for miles in all directions and I can see the smiles of everyone who were waiting expectantly for me to rejoin them again in this life. Well, almost everyone… When people ask me now how I am doing, I always answer truthfully, amazing. Ninety days without sex is not my goal for the small minded people who read this, learning to always keep my eyes open is the ultimate target, open and facing the radiance of me. Day 10, and the learning continues…

RIPPLE EFFECT

This wasn’t meant to be my next blog, but when does life ever go as planned? I have to admit, I didn’t expect my Cold Turkey blog to cause such a… famous people make splashes, so I think ripple will suffice. I’ve had some concerned phone calls, questioning emails and a couple of enquiring text messages. This blog is nothing at all against the people who contacted me in the least. This is more an observation if you will…

I believe, and this is only my opinion because I could not possibly know the true motivation of a person. However, I believe some people read that blog and look upon it as a reflection of my interaction with them or couldn’t separate our history to read it as it should be read. This is my decision which was made with me in mind first and foremost.

I am sure it was shocking to read such an open and vulnerable account of where I’m going in my life and what I am attempting to leave behind. For quite a long time, I’ve spent a more time building barriers than bridging them. I can comprehend the range of thoughts it might have stirred in people who know me intimately, makes complete sense on every level. For people to mistake this trip as one they were invited on? Well, that’s something else. This blog is only a window, a glimpse and nothing more. I decided to make MY experiences public so it will keep me all the more honest in the coming days. I can fool some of you, but not all of you.

Now, I’m not saying I’m walking this path alone. I sincerely hope my friends and family will accompany me on this journey. But, the direction, pace and incentive are purely mine and mine alone. I am inspired to be a better me. No, I am inspired to be a great me, my definition of great, not anyone else’s. You have no say so in defining my life as I should have no say so in defining yours. Me being too concerned about what others think in the first place contributed to me being blown off course.

If MY blog caused you some confusion, stress, anger or resentment than I suggest you consider your own internal pilgrimage. If reading MY blog caused you to nod your head in admiration then, stand on the sideline and cheer me on, walk with me when I seem to need a friend or hand me some Gatorade when you see I’m faltering. Better yet, provide a brotha with some free porn cause that’s as close as I get to sex for another 86 days!

Word of advice, look below the surface. If you truly know me, you know how strong-willed I am. I put my mind to something I always accomplish it, FUNomenal GmbH thank you very much. No sex is only a small part of the equation, there is something more grandiose I want to achieve.

While you’re trying to figure out what that is, I’ve got some growing to do.

Day 4, and the journey continues…

OBSERVATIONS OF CHEWY

By now I hope you’ve read my observations on a (small) dog. Those observations were extremely general. They could be about any (small) dog. Now it’s time to talk about MY (small) dog, CHEWY!

The person who gave Chewy to me specifically stated she felt Chewy and I would be a great match because we were so much alike. I took that as a compliment at first… Now!? Not so sure about that. If it’s true that a dog reflects their owners, then I’m just weird. What I’ve observed about Chewy is..

1.) I understand as a small dog you have to be more aware of things in a world where 99% of things are bigger than you. However, Chewy is afraid of the most random stuff! Squeaky toys, Chewy is afraid of squeaky toys. I can understand him not LIKING squeaky toys as the sound is hella annoying. But AFRAID of them? Don’t get it at all. Before Chewy came to live with me, I went out and bought all these doggy things for him, as a good dog owner should. One of the things I bought was a rubber chicken that squeaks when you press it. Maaaaan, I took that thing out and before I even squeezed it Chewy was looking at me like, “I know that’s not what I think it is!” The first squeeze made his ears stand straight up, he leaned away as far as he could from me and lifted his butt up in preparation. Preparation?? Yes, preparation for the second squeeze. When I pressed that damn chicken a second time Chewy was OUT! Ran his ass right under my sofa. Actually, I have these fake wood linoleum floors so Chewy couldn’t get traction at first. He looked like Scooby Doo with his legs moving real fast but not moving anywhere. It took me 15 minutes and 3 of his favorite snacks to coax him out from under my sofa, poor dog. After that I called my friend and she told me, “Oooh yeah, he’s afraid of squeaky toys.” You think??

The other thing Chewy is afraid of is plastic bags. Not just big plastic bags which I can see. I mean, it does make a lot of noise when I shake out a new bag to put in the trash can so him freaking out over that is understandable. What is NOT understandable is him being afraid of the little poop bags. Little poop bags Chewy? You are so NOT gangsta! When I’m trying to get up his smelly business, Chewy is pulling as hard as a can on the leash acting like he’s having a conniption fit to get away from the plastic bag. Really Chewy, relax, take a deep breath, plastic poop bags don’t bite.

This next fear of Chewy truly confuses me on every level. Chewy is downright terrified of me putting on his winter jacket. He’s not afraid of the jacket or sweater or whatever I put on him in itself, only when I go to put it on him. I can put the jacket or sweater next to him and he’s whatever about it. Pick it up and I move towards him and he’s trembling from fear. I could sorta kinda see if the jackets were ugly, but they aren’t! They are chic as HELL! One is this black hoody pullover with silver skull and crossbones all over it, another is this button up Army camouflage jacket and he even has this other little army camouflage shirt that says PUNK on the bag. That’s some gangsta ish man! Oh, oh, he even has this other jacket with a fur collar. Chewy is seriously flossin when he has that thing on! But he’s terrified of them! Do you think in a former life he was a mental patient and they remind him of the straitjackets they used to put him in?? Cause Chewy is crazy so anything is possible. I mean, when I put it on him, he starts running around in circles in my apartment and acting real weird. He’s so small he is shivering in 45 seconds if I don’t put him in something so I have to make him wear something. But as soon as we get outside, he’s all fine! He’s running around without a care in the world. Explain that one please!

The last thing Chewy is afraid of defies all explanations. If someone has a logical reason for Chewy’s last fear I’m all ears. My dog, Chewy, is afraid of riding in a car. Yes, you read it right! Chewy is afraid of riding in cars. Has anyone ever heard of a dog being afraid to ride in a car?? A dog being afraid to ride is like hearing about a black man who doesn’t like a big behind on a woman. If a person told you, you wouldn’t believe them! Chewy detests riding in cars like Republicans hate fair elections… I mean, can’t be because he hardly rides in a car can it? Maybe he was a cat in a former life or something? Madness I tell ya.

2.) Next thing I’ve observed about Chewy is.. and as a parent it really pains me to say this, but I know it’s true. Chewy is a straight nerd. He is the Steve Urkel of dogs. He is! None of the other dogs in the neighborhood really like Chewy. After comparing Chewy’s behavior to other dogs, I get it, I do get it. Chewy is too.. well… he’s too.. He’s just too much Chewy too soon! People LOVE how Chewy is all excited to meet someone new and all friendly licking them all over, which pisses me off but I’ll speak about that later. Dogs, they hate that shit. TRUST me. Chewy doesn’t just sniff a dogs ass, he literally licks it. As a “parent”, I’m always like, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew Chewy! You are SO not licking me with that tongue after this!!” After about ooooh, 2 seconds, dogs get PISSED at Chewy and try to bite him. When I take Chewy to the dog park and I hear a dog growling and barking at another dog, I know Chewy is involved because he pissed off some other dog. A strange thing is, Chewy does not hump your leg, EVER. Doesn’t do it and seems to have no interest in sex, UNTIL when a female is around. Even if other male dogs are around who aren’t trying to mount the female dog, Chewy is. Even when the female dog has bitten Chewy repeatedly, he’s still trying. I’m all for persistence, but damn Chewy take a hint! She ain’t interested! I don’t know why, but it is so damn embarrassing to having your little ass dog chasing a female Cujo around a park trying to climb up her hind legs to have sex. I have to physically go and remove his lil horny ass from the other dog and leave the area. I mean, where does he get that from, this unnatural pursuit of sex that supersedes everything in his brain except copulate?? Where could he possibly have gotten that from? It’s like he’s seen it before and he’s trying to mimic the same actions or something..Madness I tell ya.

The other thing I think that makes Chewy so damn nerdy is his lack of doggy senses. I mean, he can smell great and see amazingly, but it’s his lack of that innate ability to get a feel for a situation that does Chewy in every single time. I will have Chewy off of the leash in the park and he’ll see another dog. His ears will go straight up, his body language switches to, “What’s this!?!?! Another dog’s ass to lick!?!? Yippee!!” He gets all excited.. I’m behind him thinking, “Chewy, that dog looks like it’s having a really bad day. Maybe you should let that one go.” Not Chewy, he literally BOUNDS over to this other dog that is walking like they just got fired from their job as a guard dog and found out their wife is sleeping with his best friend. If you’ve seen Chewy, then you know he really bounds! He looks like a fairy size gazelle or something when he runs. It’s almost heartbreaking to see him so shocked when the other dog snaps and chases him away. But he doesn’t learn! He keeps on doing the same thing with every dog! How can a dog so damn smart have no power of recall?? If I a human can tell a dog is not in a Chewy kinda mood, then Chewy should certainly be able to tell, but he can’t. Or, he doesn’t give a fuuuuuuuuck! “You gonna love me dammit!!” LOL!

3.) I believe Chewy has a bladder problem. How else can you explain a dog the size of a smurf needing to pee on every damn thing in sight? I know it’s not normal either! I had Chewy’s brother Brutus for a couple of days one time.. Lord let me tell you that is an observation in itself too! But having the two of them around, I saw that behavior Chewy engaged in, Brutus didn’t engage in. Then I started looking a little closer at other dogs peeing habits. I mean, out of 10 trees, the average dog will pee on about 4 trees. Chewy?? He will pee on all 10 trees, plus the garbage can, plus the old McDonald’s bag, plus the park bench and just for good measure; he’ll pee on another dog. THAT is Chewy. I shit you not, Chewy is into Golden Showers. I’ve seen him pee on other dogs before. I’m sure there is some psychological reason for it, but I haven’t quite found out what it is yet. Until then, I’m going to go with Chewy is a damn freak and I swear he’s NEVER ever everevereverever seen me doing no mess like that! Peeing on other dogs on purpose?? Chewy (shaking my damn head).

I’m thinking I’ll break these observations into two parts. Chewy is just so, Chewy so I gotta get this stuff out so the world can tell me if I’m the weird one for thinking Chewy is weird, or he really is from another planet.

COLD TURKEY

A woman I dated before revealed to me once how much she hated my blogs. She couldn’t comprehend my desire to reveal any part of myself to the outside world. I found her visceral reaction quite confusing seeing as the majority of my blogs up until that point were based on my observations of the many countries I’ve visited. I open with that memory because for some strange unexplainable reason, the journey I’m about to embark on and openly share with you as it unfolds gives me a small perverse sense of pleasure that she would loathe my new entries… in your eye you Polish witch!

Now, the details, the unveiling of me, the mystery explained… You know, a magician will always tell you people aren’t impressed with the actual trick itself, the public drives themselves mad attempting to explain the act. That’s what keeps the audiences returning. Explain the unknown and you lose the power to captivate. Luckily, I’m no magician and I’m more than willing these days to stop driving people mad.

I've never been faithful to a girlfriend or anyone I've seriously dated in my life, EVER. Trust me when I say there is no boasting whatsoever in that statement. It has caused me and a few women I hold in the highest esteem an immeasurable amount of pain and heartache. I've lost best friends, confidants and soul mates over my indiscretions. I can’t say I regret anything because my past actions have made me who I am today, however, what I feel when I look back on my transgressions comes pretty damn close. The explanation for why I was always unfaithful? That is for another blog when I’m feeling less sensitive to potential slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. What I want to express now is that I’ve changed. Ok, let me rephrase that, I now posses a desire to change so strongly it has superseded everything else in my life. For the first time in my adult life, I have consciously made a choice to be a better man free of self-doubt, insecurities and a squewed ego and be whole, selfless and true. I’ve made real progress since I’ve begun this journey. However, a dear, and sadistic, friend of mine brought to my attention that I still need to change the pattern. I have to break the cycle I always allow myself to be drawn into. I use sex and the pursuit of sex as a salve for bruised heart and a temporary boost for a deflated ego. She argued if I honestly am serious about profound change and not superficial, my entire program needs to be rebooted and rewritten. Her suggestion? No sex for 90 days. What does a man who has started this painful journey of true self discovery say to this radical recommendation? “Me?! With no sex for 90 days!?! Surely you jest you deranged woman!” Me not having sex is like, well it’s like me not being Carl! But when you get right to the heart of the matter, isn’t that part of my problem? Being Carl, had entailed using sex in unhealthy ways to distract me from real issues I needed to confront. Wow. Never broke it down like that before. Next I did what any person who has had a moment of true enlightenment does, I attempted to negotiate! “What if I only put the tip in?? I mean, the tip being in for like 3 seconds doesn’t count right?? No blowjobs?? What about bad blowjobs?? No oral sex at all??? I can’t even GIVE oral sex?? Kissing?? Am I allowed to kiss?? For the LOVE of GOD kissing has GOT to be allowed!!” The last question prompted my friend to quip, “Well, knowing you like I do… very limited kissing should be allowed.” Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!!! The magnitude of this endeavor is not lost even on my feeble brain. No activities or behavior I engaged in previously to prevent real personal growth are permitted. Let me tell you I REALLY enjoyed those activities.. those wonderful, exquisite, delightful activities (sigh). So there it is. I, Carl White, beginning from January 28^th, 2011 have started a period of celibacy to last a continuous period of 90 days. I know this will be doubly hard as I’m now the healthiest emotionally I’ve been in years. I know the positive energy I’m emitting will surely attract cool, intelligent, funny and carefree women who love to have sex... Wait!! We didn’t talk about masturbation! Criiiiiiiiiiiiiistinaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!

So, near the end of day one I receive this sms from my dominatrix in training friend, “Many persons have the wrong idea of what constitutes true happiness. It is not attained through self-gratification but through fidelity to a worthy purpose.” Very poignant quote that fits my situation to a “T”, but as great as this quote is, I can’t fuck it. So the journey begins… end of Day 1.