Synchronicity . . .

If you've read The Celestine Prophecy, you are familiar with this term. As we move away from our egos which trap us up in our heads, we begin to notice more and more, that occurrences in our daily lives involve "coincidences" with other people. For example, a feeling may be accompanied by the meeting of a new person in my life; I am meeting this person for a reason, possibly. After all, many of us, more and more, are believing that everything happens for a reason. So, the book explains that we must be aware of the present moment so that we can notice and respond to these feelings. The more we are aware, the more synchronicity will help us in our decision-making.

Synchronicity is the experience of two or more events, that are apparently causally unrelated or unlikely to occur together by chance, that are observed to occur together in a meaningful manner. The concept of synchronicity was first described by Swiss psychologist Carl Gustav Jung in the 1920s.^[1]

I felt prompted to write in my blog about several things that have happened within the passed week that have helped me put life in a better perspective. As many of you know, I recently went through a difficult time because of things that happened in December and January. But they were only difficult for me because I forgot many of the lessons I've learned from spirituality. At Christmas, I lost a job I enjoyed very much; and two days later, I skidded on black ice while driving, and totaled my car. A month later, my replacement car broke down, and I've been without a car since. As these things happened, I immediately labelled them as "bad." These things shouldn't have happened to me, and I felt a strong sense of self-pity. I allowed that to spread to my family and friends. My ego grew in strength, and I gave off negative vibes. I had a sense that I was handling things wrong, so I withdrew and isolated myself from the world.

Individually, those who care about me wanted me to attend a meeting. Each time, I dismissed the idea because I was no longer in the program. To hear what my friends were saying bruised my ego, and the pain kept me in isolation. I dove headfirst into my favorite book, A New Earth, by Ekhart Tolle, and resolved to go it on my own. Tolle teaches that "Nonresistance, nonjudgement, and nonattachment are the three aspects of true freedom and enlightened living." I realize now that nonjudgement not only refers to how I treat others, but it also refers to how I respond to situations that my ego wants me to label as "bad." There is a reason why we like the saying, "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger." Suffering may not be fun, but it certainly does benefit me.

Within the passed week, three things have happened and are still happening that has allowed me to change my view: my dreams have become exceptionally vivid and detailed; a friend of the family's who is visiting us from New York this week has renewed my interest in The Celestine Prophecy; and a friend in distress asked me to take him to a meeting. Coincidences? Definitely not.

The dream:

An election takes place, and the newly elected governor is accused of using a stolen identity to win the race. The stolen identity is that of mine. Suddenly, I am the new governor of the state of Georgia. As I walk into a government building in downtown Atlanta, I realize this is my greatest opportunity to do some much-needed good for the people of this state, and to have an influence on the region in its entirety. But can I do it? Two things convince me that I can: my passion for politics; and something a highly-successful fashion designer once told me when I worked for him in the '90s: "Surround yourself with talented people."

I noticed that the staff and cabinet of the former governor had very little respect for the office, because it had been held by power-hungry republicans who couldn't care less about the lower-class and minorities. I fired most of them, and replaced them with real-life friends who would become my chief of staff (my ex, Jeremy), attorney general (Stacey), and secretary of state (JP). I can't remember the other appointments I made, but I do remember that I hired my friend, Jeffrey, to redecorate my offices because they were hideous!

The Celestine Prophecy claims that dreams have important meaning; so did Freud and others. If you can help me with the meaning of this dream, or maybe just why it is so vivid and clear, I would certainly appreciate it. Should I be forming an exploratory committee??? (LOL!)

Anyway, my new friend, Patricia, is visiting Billy and Margot here in Atlanta, and the other night, I was looking through old DVDs for something that we could all watch. And what did I come across? The Celestine Prophecy! When I first watched the movie version of the book I read over ten years ago, I remember thinking that it fell short of the book, and I was reluctant to suggest it to them. But the four of us had a continuous conversation going about spirituality, so the other night, we watched it. The protagonist is played by one of the actors who is now on Gossip Girl, except he is more youthful and handsome. Coincidence? Maybe that one is. ;-)

Patricia also read The Celestine Prophecy, but far more recently than I did. We bonded over it, and the movie reminded me of all the amazing things that were explained in the book, such as synchronicity. I also realized that James Redfield's teaching are parallel to those of Ekhart Tolle's. I cannot leave out the part of the prophecy that says human consciousness will change during the early years of this new century. And Tolle's A New Earth says that human consciousness MUST change if the human race has any chance of survival. Other respected prophets, such as Edgar Cayce, Nostrodamus, and the Mayans (to name only a few), have also predicted change to come in the years we are living in now. According to the Mayans, the world will experience a change that culminates on December 21, 2012. Devastation and political upheaval are predicted to occur just before the end of the calendar on that date. Japan just suffered one of the worst earthquakes and tsunamis in recorded history, and devastation and political upheaval have occurred throughout the world very recently.

I finally went to a meeting last night for the first time in a year, only because a friend asked me to take him. The details of his identity and issue are bound by the anonymity of the program, but I can describe the feeling I felt during the meeting. Several influential people were at the clubhouse that night, and I felt a sense of inclusion that I hadn't felt for a while. I wanted to be there, even though my intention was not to seek help myself. It was a feeling of goodness that almost moved me to tears. The friend who asked me for help may have, in fact, helped me more than I helped him. Coincidence?

My Life Now

It is now the middle of October, and much has happened in the past few months. I secured my position within the Tyler Perry empire in the second half of August, worked my ass off in September, and Atlanta Gay Pride was this past weekend.

I left off complaining about my previous living situation where two of my three roommates were gossiping about me. I won't rehash; you'll have to read the previous posts. However, I will mention that I recently found out that the owner of the house would periodically ask my good friends, who would visit me at home, if they were sleeping with me. Disgusting!!

Moving on: many of my friends and acquaintances want to know exactly how I got a job with Tyler Perry. The sensitivity surrounding this accomplishment doesn't allow me to divulge much, however, I will tell you what I can.

In mid-August, I quit my previous job as employment consultant in downtown ATL. I was unhappy, uncomfortable, and too inexperienced to continue to find work for welfare moms. It was actually a worthwhile learning experience, and it taught me how to be more aggressive when looking for work for myself. Before I quit, I started sending out my resume to employers, but I remained unemployed for about three weeks. In the meantime, I brokered a couple of successful real estate deals which kept me afloat financially. At the same time, my brother, Bill, moved to Atlanta, and we found an apartment which we moved into over Labor Day Weekend. Toward the end of my unemployment, I started to get desperate. It's a tough job market out there, and I was starting to panic. I found job postings on many of the websites I used at my previous job, but I also looked at Craigslist daily. I noticed a cryptic posting for an office assistant, but there was no company info. I sent my cover letter/resume, and an hour later (at 9pm), I received a phone call from Tyler Perry Studios. I was a little shocked, and when they asked me to come to the studios the next day, I wanted to say, "SERIOUSLY????" The interview was quick; I got the impression they wanted to hire me on the spot. But my future boss said, "go get lunch; I'm going to mull this over. Call me in an hour, but stay in the area."

As I walked into the Greenbriar IHOP, an excited and optimistic energy left my body and touched the people I came in contact with. I couldn't stop smiling. After a brief phone call to my now-boss, I returned to the studios. This meeting was also brief, and I returned home beaming. I told Bill that if my phone rang, all noise within the vicinity must cease. At 8pm, I received the call . . . and I got the job! They liked my education, my modelling and real estate experience, and they felt that I could represent Mr. Perry best out of all the candidates who interviewed.

That was a Friday night, so naturally, I went out all weekend and celebrated with my close friends. That Monday, the long hours, the stress, and the excitement began. The first week was full of lots of travelling around Atlanta and meeting the many people who make his movies and TV shows possible. I visited his homes, the airport he uses, and the places I needed to be acquainted with as part of my new job. In a nutshell, I represent Mr. Perry in day-to-day situations that he is too busy to handle. The exciting part is that wherever I go while working, I'm treated like a rock-star, and by-standers constantly try to figure out who I am. Don't worry; none of this has gone to my head. In fact, I treat people with more respect now. I'm constantly reminded that I am only representing a celebrity, that I am not one myself. Instead, it's a humbling experience, and I'm amazed that these experiences enter my life to teach me a lesson. Everything happens for a reason, and I'm delighted that this is my life now.

Shortly after I started, I cancelled my trip to Southern Decadence, New Orleans for Labor Day Weekend so that I could move in with Bill. We moved to a cheap, slightly cramped 2/2 apartment by Peachtree-DeKalb Airport for the purpose of saving money to get a new car next year. (I also desperately needed to remove myself from the drama of my previous home.) At some point during our new lease, Bill's wife, Margot, and their 2 yr. old, Nicole, will join us in Atlanta. They are temporarily living with my Dad in New York until they move. I'm so excited to be living with family for the first time in 16 years! Especially since I've been single for most of my five years in Atlanta.

But I'm not bitter! I received tons of appreciated attention when I attended the 2010 Atlanta Cotillion on September 18th as Julio Leyva's escort. Yes, I went in a tux, for a change. I was so proud of Julio for the great job he did fundraising all summer. He is a hero in my eyes!

But the fun didn't stop there! Last weekend was Atlanta's Gay Pride festival and parade, and two of my dear friends from Boston spent the weekend here. We had so much fun running around, seeing so many people I hadn't seen since starting my new job, and going to the packed events, that we didn't get to everything. I was supposed to march in the parade with the Cotillion clan, but at the last minute, I had to drive a friend to the airport, and then go to work for a couple of hours. I just keep telling myself that I LOVE MY JOB!

Drinks at Work??

I thought I had landed the perfect job when I started as an account executive with a company in downtown Atlanta at the end of May. My task was to find work for uneducated, inexperienced, single mothers who accepted government assistance. They were required to participate in our program, and Fulton and Dekalb Counties commissioned us to find them minimum wage positions so that they could more quickly move from accepting welfare to being self-sufficient. As I accepted the position that many vied for, I thought to myself,

"My writing is good, and I know how to assemble a resume. My phone etiquette is good, so I can be persuasive when speaking with employers. If a client gives me attitude when I instruct them on how to job search, I can give it right back."

I was convinced that if anyone could do this, I could. This confidence was exactly what I needed to start. My boss liked me, my co-workers liked me, and everyone thought I was going to do quite well. I enjoyed going to work, and the clients were genuinely appreciative when I gave them advice and job leads. The employers were a bit cold to me at first, but I worked on building rapport. I was on the phone looking for jobs, and I was building confidence in my clients. I went to networking events and looked for jobs. I sent my clients out every day to look for jobs with employers I had gotten to know. But there were several things that I neglected to consider.

One was the same thing I didn't think of when I decided to do the Atlanta Cotillion last year. How many contacts can I really call upon after only four short years of living in Atlanta? Could I seriously call upon my friends and ask them if they know of anyone hiring, when half of Atlanta was looking for a job? I persevered, and I succeeded in finding many low wage jobs at restaurants, hotels, in offices, etc. The second thing I didn't think about was, just because I found a job for someone doesn't mean they're going to get hired. Huge gaps in employment, no experience at all, or a serious criminal record hindered my clients, and I began to get discouraged. My persuasive selling techniques were failing, and I was falling short of my quota.

Then something unexpected happened. An account executive who was out on medical leave for many months returned to the company after having beaten cancer. He was an incredibly personable guy, and he was originally from Boston. He had the accent that I thought I hated, but when he spoke, leaving out his r's, I melted a bit. I fell for his charm, and soon we were drinking together.

As I became more and more discouraged with my lack of progress, I began to also experience the insomnia that had developed in my final years of drinking. He encouraged me to drink before bedtime, but I said I couldn't do that. That I didn't want to go down that road. I didn't feel it was appropriate to reveal my alcoholic status to my co-workers, especially since I was beginning to feel as though I wasn't cut out for the job.

I started to call in sick on Monday's after Sunday Funday at Blake's. I felt like a failure. I'd go into work as though I had my head down. I was ashamed.

I looked for a new job, but without finding one, I quit in mid-August. A weight lifted from my shoulders. I was fairly confident that I could find one that was not in employment. I hoped for a real estate job again.

Around the same time, I convinced my brother, Billy, in Connecticut, to move to Atlanta. I knew his IT skills were superior to most in Atlanta. He came down and stayed in my extra room for a couple of weeks. It was so nice to be around family again. I communicated with my roommates about his stay in advance and gave them updates as we spent time together touring his new city.

Unfortunately, a couple of my roommates were more interested, not in my brother's stay, but in a nasty, untrue rumor that, not only was I drinking again, but I was also doing drugs. Drugs were never my thing. My drug of choice, and my downfall, had always been alcohol. I am an alcoholic of an extreme case, however, I am NOT a drug addict. Many times, I had heard in the program that they are one and the same. This is not the case. Alcohol works on the alcoholic over time, convincing him that he can handle more. Drugs take the addict down FAST. But I want to make it very clear that I am not saying one is worse than the other. We are all equal; addicts, alcoholics, and our friends, the normal people. If my life went in a different direction, I could have been a drug addict AND an alcoholic.

The Big Book is the end-all for many. It certainly was my "bible" for over a year. I read it, and re-read it, from cover to cover. But for me, it was my launch-pad. I really knew nothing about true spirituality, so I started reading the books of Ekhart Tolle, my present spiritual guidance. I also ventured into Buddhism and Scientology. In college, I studied medieval philosophy, which is essentially Catholicism, and I had had enough of that. I heard many times in AA meetings, "AA doesn't have the patent on spirituality." But then, why do so many stay within the safe confines of the program? Is thinking too dangerous for us?

Anyway, back to the story. I began to get frantic phone calls from genuinely concerned friends. I say it that way because there is a difference between concern and gossip. I could hear in each of their voices, whether they were wondering if they needed to talk to me, or if they selfishly wanted to verify the dirt they discovered. I parted ways with my roommate, who I used to trust and consider a friend, after I found out that an ex of his entered the house while I was out of town with a key he still had, entered my bedroom, and spread crystal meth across my coffee table. I didn't know what it was and thought nothing of it. I cleaned it up and threw it out, but I still wondered what that stuff was. I didn't bring drama to our house, but my roommate and his trashy boyfriends certainly did.

I end this post on a bitter note, but with a promise to my audience that the good news comes shortly thereafter. If I've kept you interested to this point, please hold on until the next chapter. Just as my last post, I had to get this off my chest.

Pensacola . . . the Untold Story

This summer has been tough, to say the least. And when I say things never turn out the way they're expected to, the passed few months have been no exception. Despite the difficult times in my life which have definitely made me stronger, this summer will be one to remember; one that tested my strength, and one that will never let me forget that I'm only human.

As I wrote in an earlier post, Memorial Day was a hoot. However, probably the most significant event throughout the entire weekend was my relapse, which, of course, I intentionally left out. I was scared, ashamed, but defiant. It happened the night before Memorial Day. I had been in Pensacola for four days at this point, and the next day, we were going to drive home. I was in my car driving through a rainstorm alone, trying to find a place to eat. I was staying with a bunch of friends, some in the program, and some not.

I had been sober for three and a half years.

I drove around for over an hour, not because I couldn't find a place to eat, but because I was trying to talk myself into having a drink. I had earned it, I thought. Not only had I turned my life around, but I had also matured to the 34 year old who had just landed a new job in only seven days. I had been working out for two years, and I had become the person I always wanted to be. I was loved and admired by so many, and I had succeeded in seeing a monumental project through from start to finish: the Atlanta Cotillion. I had money of my own, I was travelling, and I had friends and family I loved.

I realized as I drove that it was midnight, and the partying would only last for a few more hours. I grabbed fast food, and headed to Emerald City alone. All weekend, I was surrounded by beautiful, scantily clad boys. Although I knew many of those from Atlanta, and I was making new friends, I felt totally alone. I arrived at the club, quickly said "Hi" to some people I knew, but I was acting as though I was looking for someone. I was looking for a bar that had no Atlantans around it, so that I could order a drink. The decision was made long before, and my mind was made up. As I ordered my drink, I could barely believe I heard those words leave my mouth. It was done; I took my first sip as if I were drinking some sort of poison. I was scared because I had no idea how it would affect me. Would I be drunk off the first drink? I was slightly panicked. The first one was weak, but my alcoholism kicked in. I needed to find a male bartender in another secluded bar to make me a good drink. I got what I wanted, and then went and danced with my friends. The club was packed, so I spent the rest of the night socializing. After hanging out for a while, I went back to the hotel and went to bed.

I need to get this off my chest, partly because the drinking didn't end here, and I now realize the entire summer may take several posts. Also, a few months after drinking openly and honestly, the rumors began that I was also doing drugs, a myth that hurt my feelings, and I developed a resentment toward the gay recovery community. I consider myself an open book; someone who lives a somewhat private life, but also someone who is honest. As I continued to drink, so did the gossip. And ultimately, I realized, I was headed right back to where I started on 12/04/06, my (former) sobriety date.

"Never regret. If it's good, it's wonderful. If it's bad, it's experience." - Victoria Holt

I'm Thrown a Curve-ball . . .

So, I'm going to talk about work for a minute . . . try not to get bored.

Last Monday, my boss told me the very unfortunate news that the on-site agents will experience a base salary pay-cut of a substantial amount. No, I didn't fall to pieces, but I did get scared considering I haven't sold a home recently. The market has shown some growth, but with this news, things were about to get ugly.

I knew what I had to do, but the thought of looking for a new job in this economy was not only daunting, but finding new employment seemed like it would be next-to-impossible. When I thought of the many friends who have been looking for work for the passed several months, I wondered what more I could do to stand out and get noticed.

That night, I started editing my resume, which I hadn't touched in a year. In the passed few years, thanks to quitting drinking, I've become more confident and less afraid to assert my qualifications and interests. It's really the only way to get ahead. Confidence and self-esteem are so important, and although I still have lots of work to do in that department, I thought I composed a fairly good resume and cover letter. On a side-note, if you're applying for jobs at the moment, get someone to convert your resume from a Word document to a PDF file because you never know how a Word doc is going to open on someone else's computer. A good friend gave me that advice.

I started letting close friends know that I was seriously looking for a new job. I gave them a general job description, and mentioned that if they hear of anything to please let me know. Within about a week, I probably applied for about 75 online job postings. I tried to take the time to personalize each one. I spent my nights at home in front of the TV while sending out resumes. In fact, I'm itching to go out and have some fun!

Anyway, I started to receive several phone calls, and many emails. I've noticed that there are lots of job scams out there online. I feel that if an employer can't pick up the phone and call me, there has got to be something shady going on. And I think it's awful that there are people out there praying on the many unemployed, honest people out there.

I received a call on Friday about an account executive position. I called back, and this polite, eloquent gentleman in New York answered and described his company and the position. The new account manager would be responsible for matching job-seekers with their clients, large companies and the government. They were looking for someone with a sales background who tends to also be socially-conscious. The job-seekers are people who may have less-than desirable histories or backgrounds. I know this may sound crazy, but this may be the challenge I've been hoping for! I was phone-interviewed twice yesterday (Monday), and then I met with a New York executive, along with the Atlanta manager this morning. Once my references checked out this afternoon, I was offered the position! It all happened soooooooooo fast!!!

So, here I am, sitting at home, ready to watch American Idol and stuff my face with something fattening. But the out-of-control celebrating won't end there . . . my friends and I are planning to meet at Swinging Richard's tonight for some good, old-fashioned lap-dances. One of the most exciting things about all this is that I will now have weekends off!! Wow! This is kind of how I envisioned things: a good, steady 9-to-5, and the occasional real estate deal on the weekends. The End.

Easter . . . Postponed

This passed weekend was filled with fun, gay things to do in Atlanta: Frank Buda's annual Easter Bonnet Party was attended by many Cotillion friends, and the Armorettes held their annual Easter Drag Races in the Blake's parking lot. I saw some photos taken by Project Q, and it looked like plenty of shirtless boys were out and about enjoying the suddenly summer-like weather we were experiencing after a rough and long winter.

I was stuck at the airport for much of the weekend trying to catch a flight to Westchester, NY, to visit my family for Easter. I missed out on the fun a few miles away in Midtown.

A few months ago, I noticed that the airfare to New York was climbing, and during holiday weekends, the prices usually spike. So, I called on a friend at Air Tran who I competed against in last year's Atlanta Cotillion, and got hold of a buddy-pass. I guess I didn't think Easter weekend would be as busy as it was, so unfortunately for me, flights up and down the East Coast were booked solid. Instead of partying with friends on my first Sunday off this year, I was stuck at the airport, trying to get on any flight to the NYC region or Boston.

It was my own fault. Of course people would be travelling to see their families. I was upset, sad, and depressed. My family was disappointed, and several of my friends were looking forward to spending time with me, including a friend I recently reconnected with thanks to Facebook who I hadn't spoken to since just after high school. I was eagerly looking forward to catching up with him; a few years ago, he came out of the closet.

Rescheduling everything, including a visit to the Late Show with David Letterman, proved to be simple enough. My boss was flexible, and I let my family know I'd come in two weeks instead. But I was still feeling hungry, angry, lonely, & tired (HALT, in recovery terms), so I decided I needed a meeting. I went to the 1:30 pm Tuesday meeting at NABA, and it was exactly what I needed! I hadn't been to a meeting since January (tisk, tisk), and I know from being in the rooms that maybe I was closer to drinking than I realized. This particular meeting "reset" my spirit, and I was feeling grateful to have a family who looks forward to my visits. I also felt very fortunate to have plently of friends here in Atlanta, and in the NYC area. The new-found humility and gratitude I felt was profound. I briefly felt bad for wallowing in my own pity, but if I don't persevere through self-pity, I get down and depressed. I feel like the world owes me something; that the occurrences of the weekend made me a victim, even though nothing catastrophic happened. My disease looks for these excuses to escape into self-pity, and once I do, I want to change the way I feel with alcohol. Wouldn't it be great to get drunk and forget about my responsibilities? Couldn't I just take off somewhere and indulge?

The effects of drinking after three years would be catastrophic, however. Not only would I have a seriously painful hangover, but the disappointment my family, friends, and I would feel would really set things back.

The last few days have brought about a much-needed positive shift in my attitude. After the meeting, I went to the gym and worked out hard. I continue my almost-daily workouts because it frees me of pent-up aggression, and I always feel good about myself afterwards. Not to mention, speedo season is practically upon us!

Last night, I stayed up late to watch The Buddha on PBS. What an amazing and inspiring story! And what perfect timing! I learned about how Buddhists believe that the unhappiness humans often experience are the makings of the ego. Our own minds create the hell we can sometimes live in. It was all very much in accord with Ekhart Tolle's teachings, so I was on the edge of my seat for the program's entirety. I feel a bit more enlightened today. And I loved the way it ended: someone asked the Buddha who he was. His answer: the One who woke up.

Small Gay World

It's the last day of July, and as I get ready to close the gym tonight, I think about how this month has been a little bazaar. It's really been a month of ups & downs; I've had some setbacks, but I've also had some interesting learning experiences. As you may have read in my last post, depression had become a concern, but I can say with a fair level of confidence, that it is manageable now, and I look to the future with much optimism. My work as a REALTOR (r) has increased to the point that I'm excited to be an agent, to be showing homes, and to be approaching a closing. I'm also scheduled to be flying to New York for Labor Day Weekend to see my family, including the newest member, my niece, Nicole; and to attend the wedding of a childhood friend. Having a trip to look forward to is just one more good reason to get up in the morning each day and to get motivated to do something productive! My part-time job at the gym keeps me sane, and on some type of a regular schedule. It's also a lot of fun to work with my friend, Jay, and to chat with the gay gym-rats who come here.

July has been a challenging month for my confidence. I've made many big decisions in recovery, but in this passed month, I've come to question how well I've thought about things before making my decisions. I think I've actually come to regret the decision to live with my roommate, Adam, who now claims to have a pretty intense problem living with me. I knew after I returned to the real world in April of 2007 that living with Adam would be a challenge, and the people who I owe my sobriety to told me not to live with him. Anyway, we haven't wanted to live with each other for a while, but we're in a lease, and my plan to live with my friend, Chris, wouldn't happen until December. So, in my mind, nothing was going to change until then. But a week ago, Adam emailed me saying my behavior was a threat to his sobriety, and that he would have to move out by the end of the month, leaving me with a place to pay for and no roommate. To be mild, I was livid. I was so insulted, hurt, and baffled, especially since, he had no home when he was asked to leave rehab, except to live with me. I returned his email with one of a scathing nature that described my frustrations with living with him. My friend & sponsor, and possibly future-roommate, Chris, made me a "roommate-needed" flyer of an extremely professional design, and we put them up at the Galano Club (Gay Alcoholics Anonymous), so that I can find a sober roommate. Oh, and I told Adam he wasn't going anywhere until September.

I was really pissed off, needless to say, but I noticed how I was asking for help, and that the people who care about me, helped. They helped me see that this wasn't as bad as my alcoholic mind was making it out to be. Unfortunately, I isolated a bit, which is not healthy for an alcoholic in recovery, but I also went to meetings, and I went out with my Earth friends, Mo and Sparkles. They're always a hoot, and I like to go out. They're actually pictured in my default MySpace photo right now in case you think you know them. Between Trivia at Joe's on Juniper and Blake's, they know everyone! So, it wasn't the end of the world, and how could I stay upset when Joining Hearts 21 was in just a couple of days!

Every year, for the past twenty years, gay Atlanta gets together to party and raise money for two charity organizations, AID Atlanta and Jerusalem House, and 100% of the cover, tips, everything, goes to the charities. And the party is called Joining Hearts. I went two years ago in the good old days of drinking when they held it at the Piedmont Park pool, and I thought it was the greatest party I had been to in Atlanta. Well..........this year was off the chain! I had heard from a boy who comes to the gym and is also involved with the organization of the party that this was going to be a huge party, and that it was going to be held at the Civic Center, which was where a not-so-exciting Gay Pride Festival was held only a few weeks ago. (Remember?) Well, despite the failure of the Pride Committee, Joining Hearts 21 was a huge success! My expectations were low, so when I arrived to see a "circuit-esque" set-up, complete with a canopy-dance area, a full-on light show, and DJ Roland Belmares at the turn-tables.

Earlier in the week, I was out at the Heretic for the mid-week shirtless party they have on Wednesday nights. I was having a bad week with things that were going on, and I needed to go out and dance. and I met this older guy who kept telling me I was gorgeous. He wanted to buy me drinks, so I let him buy me a Red Bull, and later a diet Coke (which I drink way too much of, since I don't drink alcohol anymore). He was fifty-two, but he looked forty, and he was interesting, so when he asked me out to dinner, I accepted. Later that night, I was with a few friends who wanted to stop by the apartment of someone I didn't know. When we arrived, I met a very attractive thirty-four year-old, somewhat femme hottie! He asked me out on a date, and I was very interested, so I said, "Definitely!" But let me just clarify: I never get asked out twice in the same night.

During this same week, a friend I met when I first moved to Atlanta two & a half years ago, Shawn, called me to buy a home in Kennesaw. I was excited to go house-hunting with him the Saturday of Joining Hearts. He decided on one, and instructed me to write up an offer. I was ecstatic with his decision, and when we were done, I went home to change for the party & to celebrate my up-coming closing! As I drove back from Kennesaw, I spoke to Mike (the femme hottie) on the phone. He said his EX was with him, and that he knew me, too. He had met me at the Heretic on Wednesday night! So, once the two of them (who had dated for almost ten years!) got over the fact that they asked out the same boy on the same night, the three of us decided to go to Joining Hearts together! How crazy! My friend, Seth, who I've known for a decade since we met in Boston, was supposed to accompany me to the party, but then had to go to a birthday party instead.

I noticed earlier in the week that Mike drank a fair amount of alcohol, but I didn't think much of it. I just assume that everyone other than myself (aside from the other alcoholics I know) is a normal drinker. But then the three of us got to Joining Hearts, and Mike disappeared after only a few minutes. Joe (the other EX) & I danced almost the whole night, and had a great time; but Mike never returned. Before he disappeared, he asked a bartender to fill up his large plastic cup with a little ice & vodka, only. I thought to myself, "Wow! That's totally something I've done!" Joe & I talked about it for a bit, and I disclosed some of my story to him, and he said that he wanted Mike to go to rehab. Unfortunately, he is not ready yet, and if he's not ready, no one else can really help get him there. An alcoholic must live in pain & suffering until he/she reaches rock-bottom. Once he asks for help, there is so much that can be done, but not until then.

As Joe & I danced, I felt as though I were at the WinterParty in South Beach, or on an Atlantis vacation. The only reminder that I was in Atlanta was a familiar face here and there, and the illuminated skyline as the sun set into beautiful pinks & purples. I knew I wasn't going to be interested in dating Joe, but I thought we would make fabulous friends. He knew more of the older crowd at the party, and I got to meet some distinguished people.

At about ten pm, a singer came out on stage with three drag queens who had been dancing with the crowd. One of the drag queens was my ex-husband, Jeremy. He and the other two girls were in matching outfits with these arrangements on their heads. I waved to Jeremy from the dance floor; he looked like he was having a great time. Abigail, the young singer of maybe twenty-five, was very attractive, with long straight, brown hair, and a very fit body. She started her performance with one of my all-time favorite songs, and the theme song to my Senior Prom, back in Greenwich, Connecticut: Forever Young, by Alphaville. Abigail's rendition was a dance/club version, that really got the crowd going. She followed it with a couple of circuit anthems, and then was finished. As Jeremy walked off the stage following his back-up performance, I said , "Hello," and I told him he did a great job. He said he was having a great time. The party thinned-out, but Joe wanted to stay until the very end because he was anticipating some fireworks, which they customarily have. We waited, but there were no fireworks. We finished up the night at Joe's Versace-like mansion in Buckhead with some friends, where I also got to meet a TV celebrity whose studio happens to be adjacent to my gym. Small gay world.

I love parties, I love to dance, and I love to hang out and socialize. And I think I always will. If I can keep doing those things, I don't need alcohol. People ask me how I do it, but I now know that I never needed to drink; once I learned some humility and became comfortable in my own skin, I became outgoing, I became flirty, I was funny. I never needed it, and I never had a craving at Joining Hearts or at the second party at Opera on Sunday night, which Joe & I went to as well. That party was a toned-down version of Joining Hearts with the proceeds going to the same charities. I got to meet DJ David Knapp, and he made it a point to remember my name! Very sweet guy. He asked if Joe & I were a couple, and I practically yelled, "No, David, I'm single!"

Health & Gaydar in Disrepair!

Just a warning, this might be a long one. Not sure yet!

We last left off at the end of June, just before I got sick. Have you ever had strep throat? If not, DON'T EVER GET IT! And for those of you who have, you know all about the complete Hell I endured for about a week. Not to mention the accompanying depression, which was completely unforseen! Anyway, I was out with Edward & Sparkles at Blake's on Saturday evening before Pride weekend, and I felt as though the headache and body aches I was starting to feel were getting worse. I went home, planning on having some Tylenol, and going back out, but I ended up lying on my sofa, and then going to bed at midnight! Yes, for me, going to bed before midnight rarely happens, especially on a Saturday night! OMG! I slept for seventeen hours, until 5:00 pm the next day, and I felt like a sickness had come over me and had infiltrated every region of my body. My throat was in extreme pain, and eating was next to impossible. Each part of my body ached, and moving around the apartment was a chore. Even though I felt the way I did, I thought it would go away, because I don't really get sick. But on Tuesday, I had to call in sick to the gym, and Jay, my friend & boss, wasn't happy with me. He suggested going to the doctor (which I wouldn't have done, except he mentioned it), so I called my new Atlanta doctor, and I went in that afternoon.

I thought about asking someone to drive me, but I thought I would have a tough time finding someone during the day on a Tuesday, so I told myself that I had to drive, and that everything would be okay. So, I got in my car, said the Serenity Prayer a few times, and drove, like an old man, all the way to the doctor's office. He gave me antibiotics, told me to shovel ibuprofen into myself every few hours (because I also had a high fever), and said I'd be better by the weekend. He's gay, and he knew what weekend it was. ;-)

As I slowly improved, depression set in, and with all the channels cable has to offer, I ran out of TV to watch. Things like laundry, I knew I could do even though I was sick, but I had no motivation to do anything around my apartment. I barely even went online, and there's nothing easier than that. I checked my MySpace probably a couple of times in that whole week. I knew that if I picked up the Big Book or something inspirational to read, I'd feel better. But depression affects me in a way that it controls my thoughts by keeping me from doing the things that will make me feel better, and thus I stay in an unhealthy mental state. I recently bought Congnitive Behavioral Therapy for Dummies because I've looked into it, and it seems to be the next step after recovery material, like the Big Book. It's very similar, and it makes sense to me. And the For Dummies book promises to make me my own therapist. I had plenty of time to read it, but I never opened it that week. Depression doesn't make sense. For those of you who've suffered from it, you know what I mean.

The most important project of the week was totally neglected by me. Atlanta's Gay Pride was only a couple of days away, and I was thinking at this point, that we wasted a lot of money reserving a booth for Abode Realty. I felt bad in every sense of the word. I kind of felt like a failure the terrible way I felt before I stopped drinking. Here I am living in sobriety, and I can't even handle putting together a booth for Pride. To my surprise, Roel, my broker, was working on it! But why? Isn't Roel straight?? Once it wasn't too painful to speak on the phone, I called Roel and learned that he and a gay friend were putting together a booth that would be real estate and these beautiful home decor pieces that Roel sells in one of his other businesses. But isn't he going to be afraid of all the gay people at the Civic Center?? No matter, I met up with him and Regan (gay male friend, hmmm) on Friday evening at the booth where we opened at 6 pm. I was a little drained, but able to eat and walk. I also was no longer contaigious.

It felt so good to be around people! I am a true believer that we all need each other, and although I was still a bit weak, I was so happy and excited to be around everyone. In fact, after we closed at 9 pm, I went out. I had to explain the those I encountered that I was no longer contaigious, and the kiss they just gave me wasn't a death sentence. It was fun, but I stayed for only a short time. The next day, I was back at the booth at the Civic Center, which, by the way, was a weird place for a Gay Pride Festival, because the festival took place in a parking lot. It wasn't half bad, though, because every so often, someone I knew would come say "Hi!"

At some point during the day, Roel & I were sitting together in the booth, and we started talking about personal things. Up to this point, he & I had a strictly professional relationship, as broker and agent. But at the festival, we had plenty of time to chat. I knew he knew I was gay because you'd have to be from Southern Georgia to not know. (For some reason, people from that region of the world can't tell I'm gay.) I'm pretty obviously gay, so I just assume that everyone knows. He asked me if I was dating anyone, and he asked me about passed relationships. I'm an open book when comes to such things, so I spoke openly about being single for a year-and-a-half, and about my failed marriage to my ex-husband, Jeremy. He then told me that he's been seeing his friend, Regan, someone who's been helping out in our office while we didn't have an administrative assistant. I knew Regan was gay, because he's like me; pretty obvious. But Roel is older and Phillipino, and I always assumed that he was straight, so when he told me this, I was like, "Oh My God!"

"What??" Roel asked.

"Oh my god!" I gasped again.

Roel, at this point was thinking I knew Regan on another level. "What's the matter?"

"I feel so silly now because I always thought you were straight!" I said.

"Me?? Oh puhleeeease!!"

Later, I went for a walk around the festival, and when I came back, Regan & Roel were laughing at me. I felt really silly, but I also still thought it was funny, and we all laughed for a while. So, from time-to-time, my gaydar isn't 100%, and that's fine, because I'm not perfect, and things stay interesting.

A Tough Choice: Family or Friends?

Today, I'm making my Memorial Day plans, and I have a fairly difficult decision to make. The unofficial beginning of summer used to involve a simple thought process: I'd grab my bike on Friday afternoon, board the Provincetown high-speed catamaran in Boston Harbor, and spend a party weekend in P-Town of drunken debauchery with thousands of other gay men. From what I remember, Memorial Day is a special weekend for the gay community because we can come together in large numbers, enjoy the beautiful weather, forget about work and the recent winter, and have a total blast!

This year, I have two options, both of which I'd like to partake in. The first option is similar to those crazy weekends in Provincetown, without the one social lubricant I used to love way too much. Several of my friends in recovery from substance abuse have invited me to join them for a sun-filled, sober weekend in Pensacola. To an Earth Person (the term alcoholics affectionately call our non-alcoholic friends), this may not sound very inviting. Why would anyone want to spend the weekend with lots of hot, gay men partying on the beach without alcohol? But I have so much more fun now, and this year, I'll actually remember the names of all the hotties I hook up with! Also, my friends in recovery have replaced the many drinking buddies I used to think were good friends. And spending time with them is actually a productive and important ingredient of my recovery. A large home on the beach has already been rented, and a wild, sober weekend is now pre-ordained!

If you've known me for a while, you may know that I'm a New Yorker, and I'm the only member of my family currently living in the South. You also may know that my family should have it's own soap opera. The drama that comprises my family is sometimes overwhelming, and it makes me grateful to be somewhat removed, geographically. I'm not going to get into it, but just thinking about my parents and two brothers raises my level of anxiety to Orange, so I'm going to pour myself a cup of coffee. Hold on a sec. :-)

Option Two involves travelling home for a very special baby shower. Last year in May, my older brother, Bill, eloped with his girlfriend, Margot (who still receives negative resistance from my parents), and since then, the rest of the family found out they got married, and now they're expecting their first child. This is big, because this is the first baby in the family since my little brother was born thirty years ago, and, aside from my 2 & 1/2 year marriage, I will be an uncle for the first time! And, my parents will have a grandchild! I'm so excited! However, the baby is not due until July 17th. So, the question is: How important is it that I am at the baby shower since I may be coming home for the baby's birth? Not to mention, I'm visiting New York for the wedding of a childhood friend Labor Day weekend. All this airfare is getting expensive, so what do I do?

In the past, my decision would be based on what I would enjoy more, but now that I live One Day at a Time, I strive to be a less selfish person. It's now less about me and more about us. At which event would I make more of a contribution? Which group needs me more? My friends or my family? Especially since the term friends is now more about the people I call on a regular basis, people I listen to when life seems a bit bleak, people I see at meetings. Sometimes, this includes the people I see while I'm out and about, but not usually.

Life for me now is about regulating my thoughts, paying attention to the good ones, and not entertaining the bad ones. This means staying out of my own crazy head with my own "problems" by helping other people. I can do this by simply spending time with friends and listening to them, and as a result, my mountains become molehills. But I'm also close to my family, and maybe I need to drop everything and spend time with them during a joyous time. Either way, I need to make this decision by the end of the weekend because planning ahead, I've heard, is part of growing-up, and at some point I need to tell Joe's on Juniper that I won't be in Atlanta for Memorial Day!