I'm flying back to Atlanta, and I feel like the weekend went by so quickly. I don't know if it's because I didn't do everything I wanted to do, like hang out with some old friends, or because so much happened in such a short time. Each hour seemed action-packed; in fact, I even sacrificed precious sleep time so as not to miss a moment.
My parents picked me up at the airport at 10 pm, and we made the ten-minute drive to the house I grew up in. Margot, my relatively new sister-in-law greeted me, and soon Billy & Seamus also joined us. We sat around the kitchen table that night and talked about Margot's pregnancy, my latest goings-on, crazy trouble my brothers' & I got into as kids, and what it's like to be as old as my parents, until three in the morning.
We all slept pretty late the next day, and once I was awake and feeling alive, I felt a bit trapped without a car. So, my mom & I went back to the airport and rented a Pontiac Grand Prix. I had one on a previous trip and decided that it had the pick-up I'd need if I decided to venture into the city and compete with the agressive and self-righteous driver's of Manhattan. With my new, rented freedom, I went to Greenwich Avenue, the Rodeo Drive of the Northeast, and did a little shopping.
On previous trips, I've given my brothers the opportunity to plan the evening outings, but because they are painfully indecisive and plans could take hours before fruition, I made plans to meet up with my friend, Michelle, at a bar in White Plains before heading solo into Manhattan for a circuit-like party at Webster Hall.
Billy & I met up with Michelle and her siblings at the Brazen Fox in White Plains where one of the sisters was celebrating her twenty-first. Michelle & I caught up on things we've been doing recently, and we told some stories about fun times in high school. Seamus ended up meeting us there almost an hour later. It was getting late, and Alegria was calling my name.
Every other month or so, thousands of shirtless, swirling & twirling gay men get together for a huge, all-night party called Alegria, which is Spanish for "joyfull." I've always wanted to go, but I had never been in New York when one was occurring, so I decided that tonight was going to be the night.
I stepped into Webster Hall, a huge and famous nightclub that is featured in the beginning clips of "To, Wong Fu," paid the seventy-dollar cover charge, and joined the party. I've been to many cities in the US, Canada, Mexico, & Europe, and aside from Barcelona, New York has always had the best-looking gay community. But on this night, all the Hotties must have been out of town in Fire Island or Provincetown, because the sea of shirtless men left much to be desired. I wasn't looking for Mr. Right or even for Mr. Right Now! but one does enjoy a grope by a Cutie every so often. No matter. I toured the huge, old building before I settled at a spot at the bar next to the dance floor to enjoy an energizing Red Bull on ice. World-class DJ Tony Moran was at the turntables, and I really started to feel the music, so I took my shirt off, finished my drink, and joined the throngs of men on the dance floor. For a minute, it amazed me how enjoyable the music was even though I was totally sober! It was a serene feeling.
Back at the bar, a drag queen was telling me how beautiful my eyes were. She was sweet and her friend was sorta cute, so we all danced together, and then met more guys on the dance floor. Somehow, over the course of several hours, Flavio, the boy in drag, and I realized we both worked in the Burlington Mall in Massachusetts at the same time several years ago. He used to "cruise" me by pretending to browse in my store. I was very flattered, and he was so happy to be partying with me. I was having a wonderful time, but when I looked at my watch at eight in the morning, I told my new friends I had to leave. I had a baby shower to be at in the afternoon.
I stepped out into the morning sun and walked to my car parked only a couple of blocks away. I felt as though I should have been "cracked out" and embarrassed to be in public, but I was sober. And New York is really stunning in the morning.
I woke up to objects being thrown at my old bedroom's window at about 2:30 in the afternoon. Seamus was trying to wake me up for the baby shower in the back yard that was already in full swing. I showered and did everything I could to not look sleep-deprived and joined the party. Mother made me some cheap coffee which I complained to her about, partially in jest. I love to give my parents a hard time, so as everyone was drinking alcohol, I mixed some juices together and told them I made a "drink" and took a sip. I'm such a bad son. My father immediately realized I was joking, but my mother's horrified look took a few seconds to turn into a relieved smile. :D
I had the opportunity to meet many of Margot's international group of friends at the party. Many of them know each other from their English (as a second language) studies. She & Billy opened their baby gifts to the applause of the guests while I got Mother drunk with cheap red wine (That's what she wanted to drink!) She's funnier when she's drunk, and since she drinks so sporadically, it doesn't take much. "You now need to drink for both of us!" I explained to her, as she bobbed her head in agreement.
The party was a success, and it was time to start thinking about the night's activities. Again, my brothers procrastinated, so at a quarter after eleven, I told them I was no longer waiting for their decision. I hopped into the Grand Prix, and headed back into the city.
HX Magazine recommends things to do in their column, "Homo Musts," which is where I read that the "Cock" in lower Manhattan was the place to be. I had never been, but I was trying to be fearless. I walked into the dark, sleazy bar and ordered a Red Bull. I looked around, and I was scared. It was a small, scary, ugly, hook-up bar with many older, unattractive men. The dancers who got up on the bar and a platform were also unattractive, but the one closest to me whipped it out for the patrons to examine. A younger, studious-looking blonde guy started talking to me. We chatted for a bit, and he told me he was fairly new to New York from Regina, Saskatchewan. He was very sweet as he hit on me, but I wasn't interested.
I decided it was time to check out Spash Bar, my old favorite. I walked in and was pleasantly suprised to see how busy it was. I had decided that Spash had gone downhill since, recently, it didn't have the same pull it did in the good old days. The bartenders were in hot, skimpy sailor garb, and the whole place had a naval theme. The music was great, but again, the crowd wasn't all that pretty. However, I did meet a beautiful Danish/Spanish guy who was easily the best looking guy in the club. We spoke for a while, and even flirted quite a bit. I ended up staying much later than I expected to because of this new development as we were very drawn to each other, but unfortunately, he was returning to Copenhagen in a couple of days. Just my luck!
I spent the next day at home with my parents, brothers, and new sister, Margot. We talked a little bit about the upcoming summer events, like the birth of the new family member in July, and the wedding of a childhood friend over the Labor Day weekend. So, as I readied my things before my flight, we said our "goodbyes" knowing it wouldn't be long before we were all together again.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Enjoying the Moment
I'm on a small Boeing 717 en route to New York, listening to Sunset Bouelvard on XM Broadway. The plane taxied on the tarmac for just over an hour, and now I have no way of letting my parents know that I'll be landing late. It's okay though, because Westchester County Airport is conveniently down the street from the house I grew up in. I'll text Seamus & Billy (my brothers) when we land. The delay also allowed me to nap a bit after a hectic dash to Atlanta's airport, so I'm not complaining.
I have a habit of biting off slightly more than I can chew, and today was no exception. I figured that since my flight didn't depart until 6:40 p.m., I would have plenty of time to work at Joe's on Juniper during lunchtime, get home and pack, and then take MARTA to the airport. Now, before you call me insane, I succeeded! But, just barely. Yes, there is a fine line between insanity & Kevin Malin, but normally, I work no more than a few hours during lunch, and then I'm free to leave the restaurant around 2:30. Today, we were a bit busy, so around 3, I became nervous, and so I told our cranky & silly manager, Steve, that I needed to catch a flight. Instead of biting my head off, he asked me to call from the airport to let him know I arrived in time. He has a heart, after all! In the meantime, the warm and sunny day people were enjoying out on our patio suddenly turned into monsoon season, which quickly soaked me to the bone as I ran to my Rodeo parked on 11th. I got home at 4 p.m., fed Pumba & Simba, told them I was leaving to visit Grandma & Grandpa, but that I would be back on Monday night, and then turned on Hard Candy. In no more than fifteen minutes, I was packed and walking out the door, back into the torrential downpour. The Lindbergh MARTA station is a couple of blocks from my home, so I actually made it to the airport with enough time to have a quick sandwich before boarding my flight.
In the passed decade, I've become quite the deft traveler. Since, September 11th, I've flown three to four times per year and I've adapted comfortably with changing security measures. Today, I actually packed only one back which I checked; I was probably the only passenger who boarded without carrying anything but a boarding pass.
I'm currently at a point in my recovery where I make an effort to focus on the moment instead of anxiously awaiting the future, or morbidly reflecting on the past. I thought of this while I was at the airport, and it made me grateful to be taking a trip. Every aspect of my little weekend adventure has occurred without drama, and if you knew me only a couple of years ago, this would be hard to believe. Also, I enjoyed the piece of mind knowing I forgot nothing, and I enjoyed resting once on the MARTA. And nothing thrills me more than flying over a dozen states in a jet to another region of the country. There is something very exciting about flying that never gets old for me no matter how much I travel.
So, I'll be on the ground in about an hour at Westchester's little luxury-boutique airport that happens to be far more convenient than LaGuardia. When I was a kid, I used to ride my bike to the airport, which was no bigger back then than a double-wide trailer. Now, it's practically a hub for Air Tran and Delta.
I'm happy to have a break from Joe's and Atlanta, in general. This weekend is already bringing much needed tranquility, a time that allows me to think about this particular point in my life, and how I can improve upon things. This is also an opportunity to do some work for my latest real estate lead; he's a police officer who needs to sell his home in Conyers before it's foreclosed upon. This is a situation millions of Americans are currently facing due to the housing crisis. If we can agree on a good price, I'll be able to help him avoid total credit destruction.
It's nightfall, and as I look out to the left of the aircraft, I see what I think is New Jersey. It's quite pretty from up here. Not dirty and smelly like New Yorkers so fondly describe it. So, for now, I'll savor this view and this moment and report back later in the weekend.
I have a habit of biting off slightly more than I can chew, and today was no exception. I figured that since my flight didn't depart until 6:40 p.m., I would have plenty of time to work at Joe's on Juniper during lunchtime, get home and pack, and then take MARTA to the airport. Now, before you call me insane, I succeeded! But, just barely. Yes, there is a fine line between insanity & Kevin Malin, but normally, I work no more than a few hours during lunch, and then I'm free to leave the restaurant around 2:30. Today, we were a bit busy, so around 3, I became nervous, and so I told our cranky & silly manager, Steve, that I needed to catch a flight. Instead of biting my head off, he asked me to call from the airport to let him know I arrived in time. He has a heart, after all! In the meantime, the warm and sunny day people were enjoying out on our patio suddenly turned into monsoon season, which quickly soaked me to the bone as I ran to my Rodeo parked on 11th. I got home at 4 p.m., fed Pumba & Simba, told them I was leaving to visit Grandma & Grandpa, but that I would be back on Monday night, and then turned on Hard Candy. In no more than fifteen minutes, I was packed and walking out the door, back into the torrential downpour. The Lindbergh MARTA station is a couple of blocks from my home, so I actually made it to the airport with enough time to have a quick sandwich before boarding my flight.
In the passed decade, I've become quite the deft traveler. Since, September 11th, I've flown three to four times per year and I've adapted comfortably with changing security measures. Today, I actually packed only one back which I checked; I was probably the only passenger who boarded without carrying anything but a boarding pass.
I'm currently at a point in my recovery where I make an effort to focus on the moment instead of anxiously awaiting the future, or morbidly reflecting on the past. I thought of this while I was at the airport, and it made me grateful to be taking a trip. Every aspect of my little weekend adventure has occurred without drama, and if you knew me only a couple of years ago, this would be hard to believe. Also, I enjoyed the piece of mind knowing I forgot nothing, and I enjoyed resting once on the MARTA. And nothing thrills me more than flying over a dozen states in a jet to another region of the country. There is something very exciting about flying that never gets old for me no matter how much I travel.
So, I'll be on the ground in about an hour at Westchester's little luxury-boutique airport that happens to be far more convenient than LaGuardia. When I was a kid, I used to ride my bike to the airport, which was no bigger back then than a double-wide trailer. Now, it's practically a hub for Air Tran and Delta.
I'm happy to have a break from Joe's and Atlanta, in general. This weekend is already bringing much needed tranquility, a time that allows me to think about this particular point in my life, and how I can improve upon things. This is also an opportunity to do some work for my latest real estate lead; he's a police officer who needs to sell his home in Conyers before it's foreclosed upon. This is a situation millions of Americans are currently facing due to the housing crisis. If we can agree on a good price, I'll be able to help him avoid total credit destruction.
It's nightfall, and as I look out to the left of the aircraft, I see what I think is New Jersey. It's quite pretty from up here. Not dirty and smelly like New Yorkers so fondly describe it. So, for now, I'll savor this view and this moment and report back later in the weekend.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
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!
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!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Mommy Dearest visits the ATL
It seems I have fallen into the reality TV trap once again. I'm in my living room having a late lunch and checking email/myspace, as I notice that there is another dance competition on Bravo, television for gay men & metrosexuals. It's called Step It Up & Dance, and at first glance it doesn't have enough appeal to retain my attention, which means there aren't any cute men in it. But I've made my judgement too quickly: there are some hotties in it, and although, it follows other shows exactly (a dancer is eliminated after each challenge), it's a good show. I've always been a fan of good choreography, and I love nothing more than amazing dancing. So, I'll refill my coffee cup and watch a couple of hours of episodes.
Today, my brain is catching up with the rest of my being as I relax on my first day off this week. Joe's has kept me very busy with tables full of partying gay boys and friendly trivia players. I was even secret-shopped on Friday, and although I only got a B+, Alice is happy because I'm a new server. Abode Realty has kept me almost as busy as I take on the challenge of my first short sale. This is a technique of saving a homeowner from foreclosure by negotiating with the bank to relieve the homeowner of the mortgage obligation. We're working in teams at the office and the team who completes a short sale first receives domestic airfare. What an incentive! I may not be on reality TV, but I'm a hell of a negotiator. I'm all about some healthy competition, so bring it on!
I have to talk a bit about my Mother because she's incredibly silly. This passed weekend, Mother came to visit Atlanta for the first time. My little brother, Seamus, lived in Atlanta several years ago, and Mother never visited. I've now been a resident of the ATL for over two years, and finally, she's come to visit. Normally, Mother would use a stale excuse to not visit. She's currently working in Palm Beach, so she flew up from there. She no longer has a cell phone and calling her at work is prohibited(according to her), so making plans for her visit was next to impossible. In addition, I wasn't aware of her plans until after the cut-off for making requests at Joe's; so altering my schedule was not going to be easy. Her initial plan was to fly in, take MARTA to Lindbergh, which is adjacent to my complex, and wait for me to get home from work. Crazy, right? Especially in crime-ridden Atlanta. I lucked out, though. My wonderful bosses at Joe's gave me the night off due to inclement weather and Mother's visit. So, I left Joe's and headed for Hartsfield-Jackson. I was excited to see Mother and show her around my new city. I was also very thankful that she was not going to have to find her way in an unknown place on her own, and in the rain. As I waiting in the receiving area of the terminal, I kept thinking that I had to pay close attention to the short people since Mother only stands at four feet, eleven inches (I'm over a foot taller than she). What if I miss her and she gets on MARTA? I started having scary thoughts and decided not to entertain them. Almost an hour after the flat-screens showed her flight as arrived, Mother emerged from the crowd, clutching to her bag and looking a little lost. I felt a twinge of pity, but then reminded myself that even at sixty-three, she is a resilient woman, having dealt with so much in her lifetime. We were both so happy to see each other, and I could now feel relieved that she would be coming home with me.
Mother got into my Isuzu Rodeo, which she had never seen, and was very pleased with my choice. I'm always excited to act as tour guide, so as we drove up to Midtown, I pointed out landmarks and buildings, including the Abode billboard I'm pictured in on Piedmont Ave. We decided to have dinner, so we went to Cowtippers'. It began to rain as we pulled in, so as we waited for the patio diners to be seated inside, I showed Mother my business card display in the restaurant's entryway. We had a tasty steak dinner, and then went to my home. The last time Mother saw my feline children, Pumba & Simba, was when Jeremy, my ex-husband, and I stopped in New York during our move from Boston to Atlanta in October of 2005. I was so happy to see the three of them reunited. I watched Mother sit on the floor and play with her grand cats. We resolved to buy them some toys tomorrow.
Mother let me sleep in the next day because she thinks I work a lot. Although I had that Saturday off, I still felt guilty about sleeping late. I was raised Catholic and am now in Recovery, but I still battle with guilt issues from time to time. We had "Blunch" at Joe's where Mother met some of my co-workers, and then went shopping. I allowed my refrigerator to empty as the days lead up to Mother's arrival because she enjoys taking me grocery shopping. It must be a maternal thing. As we shopped at Ansley Mall, I showed her Abode Realty. The foreclosures on our window excited her, and she actually considered moving to Atlanta from New York. Personally, I think my parents would enjoy living in Atlanta, and I encourage them to think about it, now that they're both senior citizens.
The Galano Club, the gay recovery center where I go to AA meetings was holding a fundraiser on Saturday night complete with drag kings & queens along with risque commentary. We decided to go, and Mother was so happy to experience a bit of my Recovery life. She wanted to donate all sorts of money, and I had to restrain her a bit because she can be quite a spendthrift. I introduced her to other recovering alcoholics and even some addicts, all wonderful people who have become friends of mine. Rand, a good friend of mine with over ten years of sobriety, greeted us upon arrival. My friend, Chris, gave a fun performance as he competed for Miss Pink Cloud. He has become one of my best Atlanta friends. My friend, Chandler, who is also poised to receive his nine-month green chip, performed DJ duties while clad in sexy leather attire. Afterwards, we stopped at Burkhart's to hang out with my friend, Frank for a few minutes. We went home and turned in after an exciting day.
We spent Sunday at my home eating and lounging about. In the evening, I worked at Joe's, and Mother watched old movies.
On Monday, we both slept in, and had to make a mad dash to the airport. It turned out to be a wonderful weekend that we both enjoyed. I'm happy Mother left with a good taste of Atlanta. Maybe her next visit to my home won't be in another four years! And this weekend was drama-free; how refreshing!
Today, my brain is catching up with the rest of my being as I relax on my first day off this week. Joe's has kept me very busy with tables full of partying gay boys and friendly trivia players. I was even secret-shopped on Friday, and although I only got a B+, Alice is happy because I'm a new server. Abode Realty has kept me almost as busy as I take on the challenge of my first short sale. This is a technique of saving a homeowner from foreclosure by negotiating with the bank to relieve the homeowner of the mortgage obligation. We're working in teams at the office and the team who completes a short sale first receives domestic airfare. What an incentive! I may not be on reality TV, but I'm a hell of a negotiator. I'm all about some healthy competition, so bring it on!
I have to talk a bit about my Mother because she's incredibly silly. This passed weekend, Mother came to visit Atlanta for the first time. My little brother, Seamus, lived in Atlanta several years ago, and Mother never visited. I've now been a resident of the ATL for over two years, and finally, she's come to visit. Normally, Mother would use a stale excuse to not visit. She's currently working in Palm Beach, so she flew up from there. She no longer has a cell phone and calling her at work is prohibited(according to her), so making plans for her visit was next to impossible. In addition, I wasn't aware of her plans until after the cut-off for making requests at Joe's; so altering my schedule was not going to be easy. Her initial plan was to fly in, take MARTA to Lindbergh, which is adjacent to my complex, and wait for me to get home from work. Crazy, right? Especially in crime-ridden Atlanta. I lucked out, though. My wonderful bosses at Joe's gave me the night off due to inclement weather and Mother's visit. So, I left Joe's and headed for Hartsfield-Jackson. I was excited to see Mother and show her around my new city. I was also very thankful that she was not going to have to find her way in an unknown place on her own, and in the rain. As I waiting in the receiving area of the terminal, I kept thinking that I had to pay close attention to the short people since Mother only stands at four feet, eleven inches (I'm over a foot taller than she). What if I miss her and she gets on MARTA? I started having scary thoughts and decided not to entertain them. Almost an hour after the flat-screens showed her flight as arrived, Mother emerged from the crowd, clutching to her bag and looking a little lost. I felt a twinge of pity, but then reminded myself that even at sixty-three, she is a resilient woman, having dealt with so much in her lifetime. We were both so happy to see each other, and I could now feel relieved that she would be coming home with me.
Mother got into my Isuzu Rodeo, which she had never seen, and was very pleased with my choice. I'm always excited to act as tour guide, so as we drove up to Midtown, I pointed out landmarks and buildings, including the Abode billboard I'm pictured in on Piedmont Ave. We decided to have dinner, so we went to Cowtippers'. It began to rain as we pulled in, so as we waited for the patio diners to be seated inside, I showed Mother my business card display in the restaurant's entryway. We had a tasty steak dinner, and then went to my home. The last time Mother saw my feline children, Pumba & Simba, was when Jeremy, my ex-husband, and I stopped in New York during our move from Boston to Atlanta in October of 2005. I was so happy to see the three of them reunited. I watched Mother sit on the floor and play with her grand cats. We resolved to buy them some toys tomorrow.
Mother let me sleep in the next day because she thinks I work a lot. Although I had that Saturday off, I still felt guilty about sleeping late. I was raised Catholic and am now in Recovery, but I still battle with guilt issues from time to time. We had "Blunch" at Joe's where Mother met some of my co-workers, and then went shopping. I allowed my refrigerator to empty as the days lead up to Mother's arrival because she enjoys taking me grocery shopping. It must be a maternal thing. As we shopped at Ansley Mall, I showed her Abode Realty. The foreclosures on our window excited her, and she actually considered moving to Atlanta from New York. Personally, I think my parents would enjoy living in Atlanta, and I encourage them to think about it, now that they're both senior citizens.
The Galano Club, the gay recovery center where I go to AA meetings was holding a fundraiser on Saturday night complete with drag kings & queens along with risque commentary. We decided to go, and Mother was so happy to experience a bit of my Recovery life. She wanted to donate all sorts of money, and I had to restrain her a bit because she can be quite a spendthrift. I introduced her to other recovering alcoholics and even some addicts, all wonderful people who have become friends of mine. Rand, a good friend of mine with over ten years of sobriety, greeted us upon arrival. My friend, Chris, gave a fun performance as he competed for Miss Pink Cloud. He has become one of my best Atlanta friends. My friend, Chandler, who is also poised to receive his nine-month green chip, performed DJ duties while clad in sexy leather attire. Afterwards, we stopped at Burkhart's to hang out with my friend, Frank for a few minutes. We went home and turned in after an exciting day.
We spent Sunday at my home eating and lounging about. In the evening, I worked at Joe's, and Mother watched old movies.
On Monday, we both slept in, and had to make a mad dash to the airport. It turned out to be a wonderful weekend that we both enjoyed. I'm happy Mother left with a good taste of Atlanta. Maybe her next visit to my home won't be in another four years! And this weekend was drama-free; how refreshing!
Saturday, March 29, 2008
A break from the Madness
It's about 3:20 in the afternoon, and I just started brewing my first pot of coffee on a lazy and stormy Saturday. I'm listening to Janet's new Discipline album, and I think it's great! I've been a huge fan since my little brother, Seamus, bought me Rhythm Nation 1814 for Christmas in 1989. This new one is an effort to be more risque than she's been before. It may be risque for some, but I'm always happy to hear an artist push the envelope and talk about things like sexual fetishes. The more we talk about taboos, the easier we understand each other. The title track is on now, and Miss Janet's singing, I need some discipline tonight; I've been very bad. Take out your frustrations on me. And then she's making these noises and stuff, and it's just kind of funny for me to hear because Janet is sooo not the fetish type. I'm sure she had to be taught a thing or two before making this album. However, she should be praised for her curiosity and fearlessness.
So, I'm taking a break, enjoying my coffee, and I feel well rested after a hectic day at Joe's. I was scheduled to work a double-shift, which I'm not afraid of, but we were SLAMMED all day! I got there at 10:30 am, and I didn't leave until 2:30 am. It was tough, but I'm still young. The weather was beautiful all day, so lunch was busy. Friday evenings are generally busy, but there was a curious electricity in the patrons. I'm sure it was a blend of the end of another week, good feeling, alcohol, a familiar place, good music; but at one point there was a large group of people dancing in unison on the patio to the choreography of a hip hop video. It was awesome to see! I had just finished up with the last of my tables, so I just stood there and watched with delight. As I watched, fatigued and drained of all energy, I was very happy to be a server at Joe's.
So, I'm taking a break, enjoying my coffee, and I feel well rested after a hectic day at Joe's. I was scheduled to work a double-shift, which I'm not afraid of, but we were SLAMMED all day! I got there at 10:30 am, and I didn't leave until 2:30 am. It was tough, but I'm still young. The weather was beautiful all day, so lunch was busy. Friday evenings are generally busy, but there was a curious electricity in the patrons. I'm sure it was a blend of the end of another week, good feeling, alcohol, a familiar place, good music; but at one point there was a large group of people dancing in unison on the patio to the choreography of a hip hop video. It was awesome to see! I had just finished up with the last of my tables, so I just stood there and watched with delight. As I watched, fatigued and drained of all energy, I was very happy to be a server at Joe's.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
When things get tough, never forget that with enough coffee, you can do anything!
I have this obsession with how much sleep I get. It's left over from my drinking days. Sleep is VERY, VERY important. If I don't get about eight to nine hours in a night, the next day is a waste, or so I think. But one thing I've learned in sobriety is that I don't always know best. I used to know almost everything, but now, as Plato so eloquently put it, "All I know is that I do not know."
So, last night, I got home from Joe's on Juniper, the predominantly gay restaurant I work at in midtown Atlanta at about 2:45 am. I've been told by my managers that I need to finish my closing side-work quicker because I need to clock out sooner than I have been. The $2.13 per hour I make on the clock needs to be streamlined, and I have been getting better about it by starting my side-work while I still have tables. I've been at Joe's for about a month now, and I'm getting the hang of it, but as with everything in my life, there's room for improvement.
I went to bed knowing that I needed to make a very important phone call to my broker first thing in the morning about a deal I've been working on. First thing in the morning for me could mean two in the afternoon, but for the rest of the world I decided, it means 9:00 am. So I set my alarm knowing I wouldn't get my full-night's sleep tonight. I feel asleep with Simba, my tan & white cat, purring as he snoozed on my chest. Getting up early was going to be okay because I would make a full pot of coffee before anything else.
Back in September, my client, Will, bought some land, with me as his agent in Grant Park for a dream home he designed. Since then, he and his boyfriend, Jamie, caught the real estate bug, and they wanted to buy more. We put an offer on a foreclosure a couple of weeks ago and received a very slow response from the seller, but nonetheless, we all agreed on a price. Unfortunately, on Monday, the listing agent informed me that they were going with another offer. Will and I didn't think this was right, so I spoke to my new broker, Roel, yesterday about it, and he wanted to research my emails to decide whether my client had "equitable interest" in the property or not. Roel called me in the evening to tell me that we had a good case for the property, but I was already waiting tables at Joe's, so I sent him a text saying I would call him first thing in the morning.
I'm not necessarily ineffective in the morning, I just have a really tough time getting out of bed. I think it's a self-pity thing. I want to stay in bed because I deserve to. But I don't deserve to unless, of course, I'm working until the middle of the night, and I have nothing to do the next day. Today, however, I had to get up and attend to this issue. One thing I want in sobriety is to be of service to others, and it's hard to do that while lying in bed. So, I got up and called Roel. As I was speaking to him, I noticed that the power was out in my apartment, which meant, no coffee. No matter; I would get ready and head to Ansley. I was actually excited because this meant that I had an excuse to stop into Starbucks and get some coffee and parfait. But most importantly, it meant I could scope out any cuties who might be in Starbucks. Looking for eye candy is often my ulterior motive.
I showered in the dark, said "Goodbye" to Pumba and Simba, my feline children, and headed to Ansley for coffee and to hang out at the office. The Ansley Mall area of Atlanta happens to be one of the gayest places on Earth. It's a strip mall complete with grocery stores, CVS, a super-gay gym, a liquor store, gay bars, restaurants, and even cruisy apartments across the street. So, if you lived there, and you were gay, you would never have to leave. So, when Roel asked me to join Abode Realty at their new office at Ansley, I simply couldn't refuse. He was looking for someone who could "service" Atlanta's gay community with experience and charm. He couldn't have asked a more appropriate person.
The clientele in Starbucks at the un-Godly hour of 10:00 am left much to be desired. On top of that they had no parfait, so I got my venti hot coffee and went to the office. Being the discreet and smooth operator I am, I set off the loud and embarrassing alarm system as I entered. Angela, our receptionist, wasn't there because she is visiting family in Detroit. I'm actually very clumsy, and I let people know about this character defect early on. In the old days, I would have wanted a drink to steady my nerves after the alarm went off, but today, I don't get upset. I can't live life on my terms anymore; I live life on LIFE'S terms now. Or at least I try. Progress, not perfection. I know I sound like AA's poster boy, but it did save my life.
So, I'm a little tired, and I've finished my first cup of coffee, but it's going to be in the seventies today. So, I think I'll go back into Starbucks, for various reasons, and caffeinate myself into enjoying this beautiful day!
So, last night, I got home from Joe's on Juniper, the predominantly gay restaurant I work at in midtown Atlanta at about 2:45 am. I've been told by my managers that I need to finish my closing side-work quicker because I need to clock out sooner than I have been. The $2.13 per hour I make on the clock needs to be streamlined, and I have been getting better about it by starting my side-work while I still have tables. I've been at Joe's for about a month now, and I'm getting the hang of it, but as with everything in my life, there's room for improvement.
I went to bed knowing that I needed to make a very important phone call to my broker first thing in the morning about a deal I've been working on. First thing in the morning for me could mean two in the afternoon, but for the rest of the world I decided, it means 9:00 am. So I set my alarm knowing I wouldn't get my full-night's sleep tonight. I feel asleep with Simba, my tan & white cat, purring as he snoozed on my chest. Getting up early was going to be okay because I would make a full pot of coffee before anything else.
Back in September, my client, Will, bought some land, with me as his agent in Grant Park for a dream home he designed. Since then, he and his boyfriend, Jamie, caught the real estate bug, and they wanted to buy more. We put an offer on a foreclosure a couple of weeks ago and received a very slow response from the seller, but nonetheless, we all agreed on a price. Unfortunately, on Monday, the listing agent informed me that they were going with another offer. Will and I didn't think this was right, so I spoke to my new broker, Roel, yesterday about it, and he wanted to research my emails to decide whether my client had "equitable interest" in the property or not. Roel called me in the evening to tell me that we had a good case for the property, but I was already waiting tables at Joe's, so I sent him a text saying I would call him first thing in the morning.
I'm not necessarily ineffective in the morning, I just have a really tough time getting out of bed. I think it's a self-pity thing. I want to stay in bed because I deserve to. But I don't deserve to unless, of course, I'm working until the middle of the night, and I have nothing to do the next day. Today, however, I had to get up and attend to this issue. One thing I want in sobriety is to be of service to others, and it's hard to do that while lying in bed. So, I got up and called Roel. As I was speaking to him, I noticed that the power was out in my apartment, which meant, no coffee. No matter; I would get ready and head to Ansley. I was actually excited because this meant that I had an excuse to stop into Starbucks and get some coffee and parfait. But most importantly, it meant I could scope out any cuties who might be in Starbucks. Looking for eye candy is often my ulterior motive.
I showered in the dark, said "Goodbye" to Pumba and Simba, my feline children, and headed to Ansley for coffee and to hang out at the office. The Ansley Mall area of Atlanta happens to be one of the gayest places on Earth. It's a strip mall complete with grocery stores, CVS, a super-gay gym, a liquor store, gay bars, restaurants, and even cruisy apartments across the street. So, if you lived there, and you were gay, you would never have to leave. So, when Roel asked me to join Abode Realty at their new office at Ansley, I simply couldn't refuse. He was looking for someone who could "service" Atlanta's gay community with experience and charm. He couldn't have asked a more appropriate person.
The clientele in Starbucks at the un-Godly hour of 10:00 am left much to be desired. On top of that they had no parfait, so I got my venti hot coffee and went to the office. Being the discreet and smooth operator I am, I set off the loud and embarrassing alarm system as I entered. Angela, our receptionist, wasn't there because she is visiting family in Detroit. I'm actually very clumsy, and I let people know about this character defect early on. In the old days, I would have wanted a drink to steady my nerves after the alarm went off, but today, I don't get upset. I can't live life on my terms anymore; I live life on LIFE'S terms now. Or at least I try. Progress, not perfection. I know I sound like AA's poster boy, but it did save my life.
So, I'm a little tired, and I've finished my first cup of coffee, but it's going to be in the seventies today. So, I think I'll go back into Starbucks, for various reasons, and caffeinate myself into enjoying this beautiful day!
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