All We Really Are is Matter, But Really? Who Matters?

Today I've been in Massachusetts for two weeks since leaving my husband  <aww>  in Australia due to immigration concerns. I'm staying with someone I'd call my best friend, but 'best friend' doesn't seem to do our friendship justice. She recently bought a house with her better half and together, and with their two dogs of course, they invited me temporarily, and after a while, have said I can stay longer. When I wanted to discuss rent the conversation was a surprising one; They'd not considered charging me any and I wouldn't accept 'no rent' as an option. A truly unique agreement and discussion ensues. In what world does your host tell you your twelve week stay is for gratis? In which parallel world does the guest insist on paying rent and expenses? Certainly this has never happened on my doorstep or when I step on someone else' welcome mat. They're truly excellent hosts, and if you know me personally you know who they are, no one needs to be mentioned by name with the exception of the dogs who go by the names Bruno and Bernie McLovin. You can't make this sh#t up, can you?

My room is the 'man cave' of the house, I say this so you know that someone has made a major concession in my staying here. Truly a good guy letting the male friend of his female partner stay in the only place he can escape to a wonderful  land complete with a large flat screen television, a leather recliner, and a door; A door that can shut out  estrogen, essence of canine, or any other outer turbulence, I can't thank him enough, or even correctly. Neither of us communicate very well verbally so it's hopefully a given that one person is generous and the other is appreciative. The door shuts, I am able to escape into what seems to be too many television channels on an Australian level, and I can miss John to my heart's content and make appearances and conversation on a basis that is mutually acceptable. Have you ever tried to host people who require too much micromanagement? You wind up wishing they'd  leave sooner than they ever will. Have you ever tried to stay with people who plan every minute of your stay resulting in the need for a rest when you return home? You wind up wishing you never went as soon as you ever did.

I find it funny that whenever I leave the cave to enter to the house, the dogs seem to not remember that I ever arrived. They are as fiercely defensive as two very small dogs can be given my large stature, and to see a strange long haired, bearded, and what I call 'stocky' individual entering their domain they are vocal in their serious yet humorous system of protecting their loved ones and their many possessions. The are defensive every time I enter as well, I disappear apparently long enough that they simply forget that I am staying in their home. It could be that I'm just not important enough to them to be memorable, but that would damage my sense of self and I never want to admit to having an ego that is so fragile that two lesser mammals could maim it or chew it in play-like fashion as they do with their squirrel toys and balls.

Today is also the eleventh anniversary date of the passing of my Mom. It's impossible for me to be sad, I do miss her, but all the lady ever did was make me laugh and give me unconditional love while at the same time I remember trying to outsmart her while giving her every gray hair she ever had on her head. I love to tell stories about her, I love to remember her, and she's one of/if not most important person I've been lucky to have in my life. I hate the fact that I can buy an option on my cell phone to talk to my hubby 9000 miles away but there's still no 'celestial' calling plan. I have so many things to say, from the newest jokes and what's happening in my life to snitching on my sister which I probably turned into an art form. My sister has never been a patron of such artwork and when thinking about it I can absolutely understand why.

So, I choose to write today about people who matter in my life. Whether it be people so close that you and they may sometime wish there was more or less space, people with whom there's too much space distancing you and you wish 9000 miles was made more simply passable by teleport all ready, and people with whom there's a complete dimensional and impossible to measure gap that can only seem smaller when you use your imagination and memory, these people are close to you.

When you matter to someone such as your friends, family, and husband it's probably because of something you do or have done. When you don't matter to someone such as two protective canine's who know where all their toys are yet can't remember you exist at all within two hours? Hopefully that's because of something you do or have done and not due to the fact that you were completely forgettable to begin with.

The Wedding Video aka How the Hell did I get so Lucky?

Wedding Video.. John and Brian 10/29/2011


This is a very short entry. When I got to Boston, I was happy for about twenty minutes.
I'm very excited to see my friends and to visit places I haven't seen in a long time.
But this video is exactly what my life is about now, and I don't lose sight of it,
and it sustains me and let's me know whatever is happening here it less important than
what I'm missing at home. John, you're nothing short of amazing and I love you.

https://www.facebook.com/v/351372978212719

Copy and paste the above link and you can watch my life become complete in
seven and a half minutes. Shalom

Bored Views From a Broad... Abroad

Sitting here two days away from my long trip back to the USA, a trip I'm reluctantly making, but making because it's easier to do my final changes in person than by proxy, the phone, or the internet. I think it's funny that the internet will take your credit card as your identity for a multitude of purchases ranging from iTunes to some of the most sordid pornography one has ever accidentally <my story and sticking to it> discovered while Googling. You can't legally change your name in another country, and to be completely honest? I have no Australian healthcare, but pay for American healthcare and my sight woes and sight ability these days are as important as Free HBO you get on cable for those weekend passes..... I want it for as long as it's available, but I won't be surprised the day I find out it's been discontinued with no warning... after all, easy come, easy go, right? But it never hurts to stop by the cable company and apply for an extension.

I've had as much fun as one can have in a new country that's also supposed to have become my home over the last eight or so months, I can now shop and be unapologetic when I push people out of the way to get what to what I want, like say.. the counter. Being rude isn't an instinctive quality, but I prefer 'survival of the fittest', here, if you don't nudge your way in eventually? You're not getting in without assertive tactics... from the teenagers with absolutely no time to spare or the elderly ethnic woman in or out of  the rascal scooter, who also apparently has more pressing issues than you; It's obvious from the way she runs over your toes with not so much as a look in your general direction but the minute the sales clerk says 'Who's next?' and you honestly assert that it was you? That's when you get the look of disdain whether it's from behind a spectacled white haired Aussie woman or the more emotional gaze you receive from someone in a full burka. The eyes really are the windows to the soul after all, aren't they? Do you know what it looks/sounds like when you're receiving a curse from a Greek woman? I do now thanks to my transplantation here, and my inability to be endlessly polite when I too would like to make purchases and return home at an appropriate time to lunch.

I would not like any cheese with my whine today. That's not my point. I'm nearly sure it isn't.

I've decided to make my trip now because under existing law, I need to leave the country for at least ninety days before I can be issued a new Visa. There's a show called 'Custom's Wars' that I watch with fear; Fear that I'm ultimately going to be the next 'contestant' who gets nervous, befuddled, insulted, and turned away at the border of the country that separates my husband from me. Being turned away comes with a bonus prize of a 'three year exclusion', three years without seeing John unless he comes to America may as well be called  'three years without seeing John'. For him it was a nice place to visit, but it's not in his top fifty places that he'd like to return to right away. Dare I have to save money for months on end to be reunited with my loved one in Istanbul? Indonesia? New Zealand? I have no problem going to these places as long as I don't have to speak. Once your American accent is recognized everything is more expensive, everyone talks more quickly so you don't hear ALL the insults, and I have to admit when John and I shop even in Sydney I tend to shut up in spite of my all to ready and willing middle finger which makes appearances by reflex, it's like I honestly have nothing to do with it anymore. It is my alter ego which is unrecognizable only to me. Did you know the middle finger is NOT the universal sign for 'f*ck you'? I can tell you it's not. I had a series of pictures taken of me and when Mr. Middle made his appearances, everyone thought I was pointing and would look in the general direction he was directed at. It's humiliating to not be able to quickly and quietly insult people as you have the right as American to do as well as I once could. I feel less empowered without that....er .. power.

Anyway, after ninety days, I should be able to reenter the country for another questionable period or permanently, depending on the decisions of the parliament, if they decide to act at all or put it off for another year, as happened in 2012. I have however promised not only John and our newly extended family but also dear friends of ours that I would be attending our wedding anniversary, John and I have birthday's separated by only two days in November, there's Christmas on Bondi Beach which is supposed to be a midnite bonfire experience that would be cold if it weren't for the summer weather in Sydney, southern hemisphere capital of the world. Crosby, Still's, and Nash' 'Southern Cross'? Yup, we've got it, though I have to admit the song is better than the actual constellation, which I found boring compared to say 'delphinius' or 'o'rien'. I've also invited and intend to honor introducing all these wonderful new people in my life to a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, complete from the beginning nuts to ending pie. I have a separate entry as far as Thanksgiving food and how I address it. My father worshiped Archie Bunker the way some people here idolize Mohammed, and let's face it, Thanksgiving is this weird holiday with a history of betrayal, underhandedness, accidental intoxication and manipulation of emotions, and separation of good and evil spirits' intentions at the table. That's only in my family Thankgivings, with NO regard whatsoever of the HISTORICAL significances of the holiday. Try explaining to anyone who isn't American why Thanksgiving is a national holiday and make it a game of counting how many times you have to say 'no, you don't understand' before figuring out that you probably don't understand how ruthless and barbaric it is to celebrate it. I'd feel worse about it but hell, we're in sunny Australia and when someone points out how horrible we were to our Nations original civilization at least I have the ability to throw in my two cents about theirs, and we can sit and argue about who treated who worse over too many cocktails, a myriad of food, and a cornucopia of different personalities all ready to chime in their idiotic, drunken opinions. And isn't that what Thanksgiving's always been about? Or was that only at my house? See you in the States, you big old sillies.

Can I have a 2nd Opinion? Ok, You're Ugly as Well!

I'd like to thank the people who invented the premise that bad things can only happen on Friday the 13th. It tends to make people more pensive in their actions if only for one out of 365 days in a year, and that's only if you're prone to put any credence into the premise. Albert Einstein worded it simply, "Time only exists so everything doesn't happen at once". For those people with real life experience and a bit of insight or hindsight, time line speed is what changes a ride on a merry go round from a frolicking event that a child remembers fondly into something akin to 'shaken baby syndrome', an event that a child will probably not remember too fondly if at all considering the damage that can be done. They're the same motions and movements, just forced into a shorter time frame making those actions more jarring and injurious.

While traversing life's floor routine you're only as stable as you were completing your last action as you head into your next action, depending on your rate of speed and recovery time between those actions. Landing a bit askew in your footing and you're not in a perfect position to focus on your chosen future path, and in life we've been told that our movements should be a fluid perfect motion, our actions to be exacting and occurring as though planned in advance with the absence of effort. This is the performance we want all to be witnessed and attempts to disguise imperfections should go unnoticed to anyone else's perception.

If you land your last event on shaky ground take the time to regain your posture before your move ahead to your next endeavor. This pause may or may not go unnoticed by only your perception but your future landings will be more precise to the one's who continue to watch your performance in life.

This entry may be buried in pretension but it's not hard to understand why we don't always land where we're supposed to, why we don't have proper footing when instigating our next move, and why we find ourselves landing outside our targeted mark as often as we often do. We're not perfect machines and this is something we should be aware of and never have to apologize. That we move in any direction is by choice and not by force of anything other than ourselves. That we continue to recover and pursue our direction in spite of variables we cannot control is courageous and that we all do it at our own pace or not at all if that is our choice is our individualism. That no one can credit himself for  all of someone else's success or put blame on someone else for all of his own failures is more than likely factual. That no one has the right to judge what is a success and what is a failure to anyone but themselves is even more likely factual.

The next time you land poorly in life? Don't look at the calendar, look at the position your feet are pointed.

"So you think you have Demons?" - A Survival Pamphlet

I was thinking of a friend we'll call Molly for anonymity's sake that I hadn't talked to for years and then was remembering that I probably wouldn't hear from her anymore for a plethora of reasons that seem to ooze effortlessly from my mouth during conversation. I guess sometimes when you don't know what to say, going with your gut instincts and spouting whatever comes into your head first can have it's repercussions. 

One of the many now famous conversations that pass through my head when I lie awake thinking about everything like I do have me convinced that humor does have it's limits even though I believe it will always be my compulsive urge to find it in any given situations. It can be summed up in this brief dialogue.

Molly - "So, you know how I told you my Mom has breast cancer? Well, we just found out that my Dad has lung cancer. He starts his radiation treatments a week after my Mom has her surgery and starts chemotherapy".

Me - "Wow, you're parents really DO enjoy doing everything together, huh"?

It was supposed to be a take on how they were probably the most functional couple I've probably known up until then or maybe even now; After how many years and how many successes and failures and children and Christmas's they were obviously still very much in love. Even Mr. Idiot with the long hair, beard, and glasses could see that. Add in that Molly's Dad was a very attractive guy, a little tidbit that I was constantly reminding Molly whenever it seemed oddly appropriate, it'd be no surprise what my comment would be on my next visit after both parents had entered into their mutual chemo/radiation treatments and would settle into the 'Edith and Archie Bunker' chairs in the living room they watched tv from, ate dinner at, and watched life pass by next to each other within radiated hands distance at any opportunity given to them. You really can't make this shit up. They are that close. 

"So, now you're Dad's 'hot' in more ways than one, ain't he?" - Even I wince when I remember saying that one.

That I take away a lesson from this now broken beyond repair friendship is important. Unfortunately, I'm not entirely convinced the lesson should be 'You can make fun of my parents' cancer, but please stop telling me how attractive you think my Dad is'... I think the lesson I came away with should be "Hey, I stopped your sadness long enough to divert it to anger at me, and I got you laughing during a very stressful series of moments in your life because it's something I'm good at".

Before you ask, both of her parents fully recovered and now spend all their free time still enjoying each others' company while chances are Molly and I will never speak to each other without yelling and free associating some clever adjectives to define how we may or may not feel about each other until we wish each other dead in one awful way or another. If there is a bright side, neither of us has ever wished cancer on the other. We both still care at least that much about each other.

Core Values vs. Schizoid Paranoia

I have beliefs I was born with and some of the mirkier/quirkier ones I've picked up along the way.

Lying and stealing are wrong, don't hang with people who do, unless you believe they won't anymore.

Have friends that keep you out of trouble, not get you into it. If they'll accept half the blame, that's okay too.

Someone teaching you a lesson is never as much adrenaline fueled fun as learning that lesson first hand.

If you can be happy without money, you can be even happier with money.

If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to be sitting in the chair of a bar, a restaurant, or a barber.

Don't gossip. You'll eventually have to hear at least one bad review about you.

If everyone around you disagrees with you it doesn't absolutely make you wrong; well, maybe it does.

Be careful about what you wish for, you might get it. Wishing you had rent money is always a safe wish.

Life is a merry go round, not the universe. No one can be at the center of either of them.

Horrible things can turn funny afterwards. Funny things can turn horrible afterwards.

Drugs make it impossible to walk a straight line; Literally and figuratively speaking.

You never know what life has in store for you. You can't plan for surprises; if you do, it's not a surprise.

If you think magic doesn't exist, try explaining why two complete strangers can meet and find true love.

 Push the limits of comedy, time continuum, and survival safely only if you're a cartoon character.

Villians sometimes look like good people; it's then easier to take unfair advantage of good people. Good people sometimes look like Villians; it's then easier to avoid giving Villians unfair advantage. Look beyond looks.

Brian Meets John

I first met John in 2006, I want to say I was in Boston at first. I am a member of a chat site that I use almost exclusively for keeping in touch with friends. I spent time in California, Massachusetts, Wisconsin, and Massachusetts again. Phone numbers change, addresses change, but profiles on this site seem to stay, and if you're looking for someone to send a message, it's pretty much guaranteed that eventually they'll get it and return it, unlike email. The website shows people who are in your state depending on what you put as your address, and you can have a friend list to keep in touch with people everywhere. Once you have looked at everyone in your state, the profiles jumble, different locations, different people. This is how I met John, or should I say I found John? I don't have a type per se, but when I saw his face, I knew I had to look at the rest of the pictures. This being a gay site, standard protocol dictates that you say something along the lines of a pickup. You can choose standard greetings such as 'you're hot', 'woof', 'you're sexy', 'nice honker', but immediately I wanted to separate myself from the rest of the pack. I usually do this by sending something nonsexual, and wait for either question marks or 'whatever' or a pat on the head and a 'thank you'. He was Australian, he was polite, and he had a very handsome face, one that made me stop, pause, and pursue.

We started chatting in full sentences right away, and it was very comfortable to meet someone who was married but wanted to talk to someone from overseas. We had similar tastes and backgrounds, and John even showed my picture to his husband out of respect. We weren't  doing anything but chatting, just like the site said it was good for. Since the time difference was over twelve hours, it turned into weird hours for both of us when we saw each other. I looked forward to our chats, we even got clever and would have wine or drinks while we talked. It was always weird hours for one of us, the other would be drinking during regular business hours. We carried on like this for years, we were miles and miles apart, but friends. It was unlikely we'd ever meet in person, but we could talk like good friends about anything, offer objective opinions when we were having problems, and I have to admit it was nice to have someone who I could anticipate seeing online.

We were both experiencing problems that we didn't address. John's partner was sick but they'd been together for over twenty years, and believe it or not, I was homeless for a good portion of our getting to know you banter. If either had talked about these issues, we would have known exactly where we stood, but fear of the unknown made us keep our peace. Rather to have what we had than rock the boat with hardcore life issues. We both say now that it was odd that we didn't discuss these things.  I don't know about John's problems, but I can tell you the least attractive thing you can probably disclose to someone it that you're homeless and live in a shelter. Who needs or wants elaboration on that? Let's face it, it's ugly.

After John's partner passed on, he developed a traveling bone, and visited different continents, countries, and locations. It was only a matter of time before he came to the States from Australia. Unfortunately, I was also unsettled, and moved around from state to state, working, not working. We nearly missed each other one year when he visited Las Vegas, I was in Wisconsin. We laughed about that. He said he was visiting New York City, in nearly ten months, and we planned for a maybe meeting. I counted the days, really hoping that I wouldn't have to leave, and believed him when he said he'd travel the additional four hours to meet in Boston. I showed his picture off, I talked to my friends about him. I purposely didn't meet anyone close and neither did he. We had friends that couldn't believe we were planning something ten months in advance. It seemed  as though something would  screw us up. It didn't, we made our plans online to kiss as soon as we saw each other on the train platform. The Amtrack came and through the glass, facing the opposite way I knew it was John. He grabbed his bag and came through the door and indeed two bearded guys shared a kiss in South Station. John will tell you he fell in love with me on the train to my house, and I'm telling you when I saw his hat, and how tall he was, with the face I'd imagined animated and not a snapshot I knew I loved him before he came into the station.We were only supposed to be together two days, but that turned into five chaotic, spontaneous, dreadfully romantic days. The powers to be were working hard to dissuade us, we were oblivious. Once he'd left and returned to NYC, we chatted and it was different. It didn't take long for both of us to know that something wonderful had happened.

We had a real connection. He asked me to visit him for a month, I accepted. Before I left, we decided we couldn't be apart that long and he came to the States to stay with me. September sixth he came and within a few weeks we planned our wedding. We postponed the date til Halloween and each would ask "Are we really going to do this?" We were married in my sister's living room before the eyes of God October 28th. It wasn't a hasty decision if you consider how many years we'd been talking back and forth and imagining that we knew each other. Unbelievable is the fact that our imaginations were accurate. The man of my dreams and the sweetest human I know wasn't a myth at all, he was even better in person. As an added bonus, he seemed to have the same inclination towards me. How I could be so blessed I'll never know, but it must be because here we are.