Music I grew up on

This is the stuff I grew up on, aside from country music... are you with me Michael, Molly? Maybe Beek (David). Molly probably exposed me to 90% of it.

Joy Division. Their drummer always had amazing hair. HA!

Siouxsie And The Banshees

Fuzzbox

Skinny Puppy

The Cure - Killing an Arab -no it's not what you think, it's based on a book by Albert Camus called The Stranger. Oh - and Robert Smith is an amazing guitarist.

Kommunity FK (yeah you probably NEVER heard of em but I loved them when I was like... 12)





http://youtu.be/DtRh6n_C02M






A GREAT Siouxsie video

Echo and the Bunnymen

And the Joy Division song you ALL know.

http://youtu.be/LS7CiL8MNb0

I hate any version of this song that comes after Ian sang this - tribute or not, I just don't like it. (Ian the lead singer died in 1980, so he was dead long before I started listening to them :-()

I'm a little worried now that I'm feeling "all better" about mom dying, and some stability at work, some sense of safety for my family (sister and nice and nephew) that I need to start paying attention to me again. No, not like attention as in attention whore Jason - I mean like the real me. I love to escape in music, video and graphics - starts with porn, but after a few orgasms my creative juices still churning I start other projects like a music video that serves no purpose, or a montage of our last trip to Mexico - which granted, will be really REALLY fun to see years from now. But the real me, is it happy with my partner? Where I am in life? What I want to be, what I want to do? It works for me now, because where it places me here, in this environment/world/city, is pretty cool - it keeps me busy with an attractive beautiful handsome man at my side along with all the friends we've gathered (not many, maybe 7-8 good friends) over the few years.

 Saturday I had the time to be with myself a bit, and just didn't feel like I knew where I was headed. I'm not "madly in love" with Matthew in a way that I've been with my ex girlfriend (will that ever be replaced?) or even some hookups that for some reason or other could never add up to more. But that may not be the chemistry of "us" - it could be that I'm just needing to do some work. On me. But I'm not sure what that is... figure out a way to deal with death? Have a definite plan as to what constitutes a good uncle? I know from the outside it seems like my shit is together, but dudes - I've been coasting. I've been coasting at work and life - incognito to others because my performance at work remains stellar, my family adores me and my body is as fit as someone with any high level of dedication. BUT I'M STILL COASTING! Those are the things I do on auto-pilot.

On the flip side, I *am* over that huge bout of depression from death. I don't drift to sleep trying to imagine my mom's pain every night. I don't recall too frequently the times I saw my mom in excruciating pain, which for some reason only happened when I was with her. I'm letting go of both of my parents confessing in me that they were not ready to go. I'm thinking of the time when my mother told me it was the worst pain she had ever been through - there at the threads of the end of her life, it wasn't to make me feel bad, it wasn't even for empathy, but just to tell someone that was there - she needed someone to know - because the doctors just do the procedure and walk away. At that moment I felt like I wasn't her son, her friend even - almost just like she was talking to god.

But I've digressed in a way that will undoubtedly leave me sleepless again - So, given that: those moments happen with less frequency, I feel less sad, I've started caring more at work, I've felt energized at work, I've started looking forward to work social commitments (which I've been dreading over the past three years), I've started SUGGESTING social activities for my work team - and I'm starting for the first to look at me as a grown man.

Before my mom got sick I was a kid. I was dependent on my parents in a way that unmarried Latin sons do in our culture - I took for granted that if dad was around near dinner time he made me food, that their pockets were always open and that they supported and loved me dearly. Now that the whole shit fest is over and I'm still here (yeah that whole losing both parents in a matter of three months), I know a few things keep me going - one is my love of biking. I've completely fallen in love again with something that I've loved since childhood, even biking across Bavaria as a kid (several times). I was coming back from the gym this week and it hit me again - how perfect that moment was for me. I love the clips, the clicks, the gears, the breaks and the feel of my bars. It's a second home.

However the rest of my life remains needs some attention. It's like the huge machine that is my life has been clicking, clacking and churning along for the past few years and it's held up and gotten me through, but now it's time to take it off auto-pilot and see where I am at - is my navigation completely off track, or is it on course? Do I need to re-align, re-tune, re-calibrate, re-learn? I need some time to think, and let myself explore. What do I want to be doing - am I way off course, or am I exactly where I want to be? But I still like doing porn. Oh, and these silly videos.

Hmmm. I think I've finally gotten to a point where *I* feel like I'm happy with my body. I'm in the place I want to be - could be better, could be worse, but I think I'm in the zone I've strived for so long to be. To achieve more would be a lot of work and likely require steroids and more effort/training/coaching in the fitness area, but I am definitely identifiable as an athlete. 

It's funny, as other men crest forty they feel like the waistline pushes out, the shoulders droop as the fat to muscle ratio shifts. For me, I've never felt more fit. Think of life as floating in a pool, and puberty as a time when we are pushed by hormones in our race lane - as time passes our enertia slows, but it doesn't have to; you can learn to kick and stroke to go even faster than your initial push. 

Anyways, I'm revealing all in an underwear fashion show Friday. I'm NOT cutting, not changing my diet, just hitting the stage "as-is" because I think it's good enough. I'm finally comfortable with the regular old me (without even shaving!) on stage. My peers will be men under 30, largely from the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard in Bremerton. I was a little nervous at first and age conscious, but then remind myself: I'm happy with where I'm at. I've done a great job at finding my own personal best! 

 Here's a shot that shows me, unshaved and without cutting and flexing. I think I look fit. Not ready for competition, but someone you might wanna ya know... sleep with :-)

Oh Lordy!

That's what older people or seemingly "country" people said when things were a bit crazy, funny or ridiculous.

Or... getting old.

I know you've seem it and hate it, "Lordy lordy look who's forty!". It's on those cheap $1.99 greeting cards in the drugstore and grocery stores.

Well I'm about to turn forty - I think! I'll have to redo the math, but it's either thirty-nine or forty. Also a sign of being over thirty. Every adult I know that is older says they "feel younger than ever, " that they would "never choose to be young again," that they "finally enjoy life..." and I have to agree, as much as I hate chiming in with the masses.

I've never been more fit, more clear headed and well - fucking sexy! Man, the availability of guys when you're a grown (over thirty), fit gay man seems unlimited! I think it might be because as gay men get older they get closer to the "ideal male image" of being not a boy, not old but just right. Add a few muscles and you become the guy others dream about; well, a modified version of that guy. I say that because clearly, without question, the ideal man for most even in Seattle is white and taller than I am. But - my fitness level and prominent abs are actual not that common, despite what our digital-sex world tells us. I think I read that only 2-3% of men ever develop visible abs, kids excluded.

Anyways, for whatever the reason - this is my reality, which seemed to happen overnight.  I went to bed one day being Jose average, and woke up the next being the adorable, sexy guy.

So this weekend I'm actually hitting the runway (if you can call a fashion show at a gay bar that) in underwear, four different costume changes, each featuring my abs and all that I have to show off. If I think about it I get nervous, I don't even know if we wear shoes for the event or not or if we have to do a little gyrating-sextatic moves, but that's the other thing about being over thirty - you can just deal with it. It will be fine.

So I'm not sure how I'll celebrate myself this summer during this landmark year. Maybe I'll do the classic photo shoot that some (gay?) people do or just go about my normal hobbies, but whatever I do feels like it's just going to be better than ever this time. It's a neat feeling.

"Learning to love yourself..."

"I believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way."

"I decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadows."

Such words of wisdom.

Now have them coming from one of the greatest vocalists of all time and being a kid of about 12 when you hear it.

Whitney was the first "diva" I'd ever heard - the first one that was relevant to my life. I knew my dad listened to Linda Ronstadt and Crystal Gale, my mom to Barbara Streisand (they made me gay, right?!) - but that all happened before I started seeking my own tunes.

Whitney was also the first person I remember following or hearing about in the media - I remember them saying she was young and new and had a great voice. When I saw her record (actual vinyl!) I thought she looked like someone that would be one of my friend's mother. I used to spend the night at my best friends house a lot and she would make us the most amazing pancakes in the morning and I actually had a recurring daydream of seeing Whitney cooking us pancakes instead! So yeah, a mother figure.

And those words... they really stuck with me... ""I decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadows."

We hear  thousands of inspiration phrases and there are millions of such inspirational songs, but I  didn't know that at twelve.  Hearing this was like magic to me, and I remember feeling strong and inspired by such a noble, talented woman. I hid in my room and listened secretly, tears welling up from the simple message: no matter what anyone says, you can LOVE-YOUR -SELF.

I decided instantly that she was classy and angelic, accepting and nice. I liked nice... having just gotten into middle school, it seemed everyone was mean and picking on each other. Cool looking and always the peace-maker, I don't think I actually got picked on that much but I lived in extreme fear (in rural Louisiana) that someone would see through me and decide I was ugly, an outcast or challenge me in a way that would lead to a fight in which I would lose, making me the joke of the entire k-12 school.

I stopped following her as I became a little goth boy, but I never stopped liking her. When I heard about her tragic relationship and drug use, I felt genuinely sad, again as if it was happening to a friend's mother. By then I'd learned that bad things can happen to good people, and good people make bad choices, and that addiction was a long tough road (yeah, I'd read all about Nancy Spungen and Sid Vicious!).

Today I'm saddened again, because I think we all wanted the best for her, a road of recovery and health. So many people loved her so much. She gave us so much.

I hope that she loved herself.

Processing.

"Treat everyone as if they were your mother." 

That's the title of my last digital story that I created for work. I think it's an old Buddhist proverb.

The digital story is the end result of a workshop I attended for work over the past few weeks. Having done some video work and taken photos just as a hobby (which if you know me, abound on my Facebook and flickr accounts) I thought this would be way easy and I could just coast through the workshop, learn the curriculum and be able to adapt it for my own professional needs and maybe even become a certified trainer. That's how it works with most trainings I go to.

But the first morning, during the introduction to the process and overview, they said something about it needing to be a personal story, from the heart.I kind of knew going into it that I'd most likely end up addressing tobacco in the video and that I could easily tie my mothers death into it as the personal story. 

The fact is, that my mother's cancer was very directly caused by exposure to secondhand smoke. Bladder cancer is widely known and accepted as the cancer that "only smokers get" - so when doctors met with my mother for the first time, many of them asked her - and I remember, I was right there next to her - "Have you quit smoking?" They asked because EVERY person that gets bladder cancer is or was a smoker or secondhand smoker. I remember that this always baffled my mom, because she was so darn healthy! But it's not what you do to your body that affects your health, it's also the environment we live in. I think we are reluctant to talk about it because in our family at least, that means point to family members, and at this point... well, that's just not productive. 

But it still weighs heavily on my mind. Not a day goes by that I don't think how easily treated this would have been if it have been caught in stage 1 with a 97% cure rate or even stage 2, with a 60-80% cure rate, as opposed to late stage 3 with virtually a zero percent cure rate. If she had actually been a smoker herself, her exposure to smoke and cause of bladder cancer would have been detected early on - but because she wasn't the one smoking, her exposure to the smoke was often - if not always - overlooked. Instead, physicians saw a healthy non-smoker, some would even say a fitness and nutrition zealot.

This has been weighing heavily on my mind for a year now. Then a few weeks ago, just prior to this workshop, I experienced another emotional assault, this one of a professional nature. I went to a meeting with some managers and staff from very low-income housing and transitional housing programs and properties. I thought I was invited to offer training for staff, support and to share my experience and expertise to promote tobacco-free living and specifically to reduce or eliminate secondhand smoke in multi-unit housing (apartments, shelters etc). What I got was a room full of very caring folks that didn't think smoke-free rules were an option for them. Which, given that we all know that less fortunate folks tend to smoke more and homeless folks smoke more etc might seem understandable initially, but once you read the research and the data you know - you know - that secondhand smoke is extremely dangerous. Besides, don't they have rules about other types of behavior - perhaps even some that don't expose other residents to something that causes cancer? Wouldn't the residents be better served learning to abide by smoke-free policies, given that you can't smoke anywhere else and that some employers wont even hire smokers? Aren't these residential staff actually allowing more barriers to be in the paths of their residents that are seeking to move out of the temporary housing, secure better jobs and gaining a financial life and achieving overall success? YES! Holy crap the list of benefits for having smoke-free policies for residents in low-income settings goes on and on, but I digress....

As you can tell, just typing this gets my blood flowing and my personal perspective was ripe to launch into the project requirement: take a stand on an issue, make a statement that promotes health while tying it to a personal issue. So, not only did I have a very personal and emotional issue at hand, but I'd been reminded about the number of people still forced to live in toxic filth. 

So the video below is a result of that - it needs some tweaking, but I'm willing to share it now. I think the anger I felt at the meeting gave me the strength to sort of slap viewers in the face at the end - you will see what I mean. 

Luckily, my mom being very supportive of anything that I want to do and not really caring about what people think of her physical appearance etc, I know she would support and approve of this. It would be awful and I probably wouldn't even do if I felt my mom would be embarrassed or ashamed.

So this - this was really something for me. The entire process might have been the "process" that I needed, you know to process through my mother's death, to give it some meaning. I mentioned the Big D's and little d's before (big depression, versus feeling just a little down) and how I have been feeling better, but some folks still say - "Mike you need t-h-e-r-a-p-y!" and maybe I do (heck don't we all?) but I think this really helped to close a chapter - to remember, close a chapter and bring my story forward with me.

Something else too...

During the course of the workshop (several weeks) I developed a pretty severe case of the shingles, my own photos looking significantly worse than that Wikipedia link. It was timely for sure, because during the final months of my mom's life she also developed a bad case of shingles. It somehow made it even more real for me, and in some way the fact that I suffered part of what she suffered made me feel better. At least I knew some of the pain that she was going through, which is silly because it doesn't take away any of the pain that she felt, but I'm sure there's some psychological explanation.

At any rate, I feel like the whole process - despite the fact that each component was awful and took an emotional toll - left me a better person - with a video!

A little deeper than *meh*

Commuters on Pine Street in Seattle - December 19th, 2008. Photo by me, of course!

There are big D's and little d's when it comes to feeling depressed - excluding clinical depression. You know, the highs and the lows we all go through.

This picture is just a few years ago in 2008, taken just a few days before Christmas and all was well. This was a happy day (of course, it snowed - a LOT!) and I remember there were some *meh* days and some good days. Little d's for me - not really even depression, almost something that was brought on my myself. You know feeling a little bad because you ate the whole box of cookies, or just feeling lazy one Sunday morning and not making it to the gym - it leaves you feeling *meh*.

I don't think I've ever known real depression and sadness until now - my first of Big D's. I've had my beloved dogs pass away, my grandparents and aunts and uncles... even friends my age in their 30's die from cancer or car accidents, but still never landed in a Big D.

Honestly, it's still kinda the same except the swell is just bigger. It permeates more of my everyday life and sinks into the bone at times, but then amazingly it lifts and I feel better for awhile. Sometimes I worry the swell of the Big D is too big and I'll get sucked under and wont be able to ride it out but it seems to be OK.

I've opted out of prescription anti-depressants and opted instead for something called 5-htp which works to help me manage but doesn't eliminate the Big D's - which I prefer.

Anyways, looking forward to those little d's again. Yesterday was particularly bad with all the Christmas stuff - looking for trees and decorating the tree, wrapping presents etc.- all things which were very special and bonding mother-son times for me when I was a kid and as an adult. Actually, especially as an adult - because we carved out time from our busy schedules to be with each other. I worried that I wouldn't be able to shake it then suddenly noticed I was feeling much better by the afternoon and evening. Whew.... what a feeling of relief! A sense of feeling normal again.

I know I seem to go on about this but even writing this down helps. Now I have that song stuck in my head... "I'm going through the Bid D and don't mean Dallas... I can't believe what the judge had to tell us... I got the Jeep and she got the Palace..." yeah, different Big D!