Free Hugs

I found this video on You Tube this morning. I think I might have seen it years ago, but it's still in circulation and still gaining momentum. You can check out the related videos too, as they're almost better than the original. Here is the official Free Hugs Campaign website, too. There's no shame in being a hugger.

Two Michelob Ultras and a Bud Light, Please.

I met up with Jen and Bonnie tonight at Chili's. It's so good to reunite with the "Original Gangstas" every once in a while. It's with much regret and much relief that we didn't quite make it to Atchafalaya tonight to get our karaoke on. Maybe we can get into trouble and brush up on our air guitar skills next week, ladies.

Scared and Almost "Weeping"

Last night I went over to Kacee's to do her hair, but I forgot my tint brushes, bowls, and gloves. We postponed the appointment until tonight when I get off work. I brought her a CD filled with songs from my new all time most favorite indie/folk band, The Weepies. I was so excited to introduce to her to them because they are just such a happy band, full of optimistic lyrics, and such invested vocals. Since we had the whole night free, we decided to go Christmas decoration shopping and hit up a party (not a party party, but the candle/jewelry/tupperware kind) in West Jordan. We popped the CD into the Burb, fastened our seat belts, and set out into the storm.

The roads were icy, the snow was falling, and the wind was blowing. There was a little traffic because it was still closer to rush hour traffic than not, and everyone seemed to slow to a cautious speed as a result of the impending blizzard... except for Kacee! I've always been amazed at how she weaves through lanes of traffic. She's never been afraid to slam on the gas pedal to merge into a lane of traffic. I can think of several occasions when I've braced myself between the seat and the glove box due to a suddent jolt of the brakes and the rapid approach of the tail lights of the car in front of us. She jovially carried a conversation as if she were commuting a country road on a summer day. She showed no fear, meanwhile, I was clenching the sides of my seats, praying we didn't spin off the road. Luckily, the storm let up early into the trip, and I was able breathe normally.

This is a perfect example of how my sister decides to go somewhere (metaphorically and literally), sunshine or storm, and arrives right on schedule. I will always recall my love for her and this memory when I listen to my treasured Weepies.

Caffeine and Compassion

Today was Wes' funeral. It was a good service, and I didn't leave feeling as sad and depressed as I thought it would leave me. I was debating on whether or not I would go. I still have such a hard time with things that make me reflect and contemplate theological ideas. Death scares me beyond belief, and I am terrified of Heavenly Father and His judgement. It's very hard for me to talk to Him, and I exercise a lot of faith when I pray to Him because I don't believe I am worthy of His attention. Paradoxically, when things get really bad, I know that He is the first person with whom I should communicate, and I know he is the source of all the goodness in my life. It's a very confusing way to feel sometimes. Being a gay man, and not being sure how I fit in to His plan creates an exhausting urgency to be better than yesterday. Everyday I strive for Christlike attributes, and I pray for opportunities to develop compassion and selflessness. Being such a weak man, I fall extremely short of anything near to these goals, and as a result, I live a life filled with severe guilt and fear. As I thought of this state in which I live, I decided that it's okay that I feel this way. Always feeling inadequate keeps me always striving to be a "good" person, and perhaps someday I will attain sufficient "goodness" to be worthy of God's love and grace. I just wish the underlined fear would go away. Like I said, I can't do philosophy or theology. It makes me crazy.

Later tonight, Shay called to see if I wanted to join herself, Kioa, and Chris for some coffee. Mmm, Peppermint Mocha Latte! We met up at Starbucks, and sat outside in the cold talking about Wes, and things related to his death. It was an uplifting conversation, and I soon forgot that it was freezing! Friendships were strengthened, and my life was enriched by these three.

While there, I ran into my cousin, Tiffany, who was picking up coffee for the nurses who are working in the NICU on little Grayson. He is now two pounds, and his health fluctuates. She said that her and her mom were talking about me just yesterday. It's funny how often just thinking or talking about someone can usher them into your life. That happens to me so often. I need to try and see Aunt Jill soon since she's in town. Those two have always been at the top of my "Extended Family Favorites" list.

After Starbucks, we all went to my apartment to play games and hang out. A couple of Shay's friends joined us. It was a good time. It was a good day. I am pretty sure I think too much.

Be Nice (Or Else!)

I saw The Mist today. It was scary, suspenseful, and well-made. If you're into that genre of movie, I'd highly recommend it because it kept me on the edge of my seat. But I think I've decided that I can't handle scary movies anymore. I left the movie theater with the worst feeling, and it took a long nap to make it go away. Now that I'm thinking about it, I don't feel that well in my heart when I watch many television shows either. Classic examples of the type of shows I'm referring to are, Forensic Files, CNN broadcasts, and most talk shows. Sure, they are entertaining and interesting, but they don't make my soul feel well inside. I'm not sure why I'd expect them to when they are filled with violence, murder, and pain. I sleep with my television on sometimes, and when I do so with one of those types of shows on, I have such a hard time falling asleep.
While thinking about this topic, I remembered something I read in Be Nice Or Else, a book written by one of my mentors/friends, Winn Claybaugh. In it he gives this advice:

He begins by speaking about newscasts, "If it bleeds, it leads. The most negative and violent news always leads each newscast. Why? Because newscasters know they'll hook you on the drama. Isn't that a sad practice to boost viewership and raings? The ten o'clock news will give you detailed facts about crime, violence, and bad news, but it won't tell you how many people fell in love that day. It won't tell you how many people volunteered their time that day."
Speaking about talk shows and soap operas he continues, "Many television shows focus on gossip and negative behavior. They tend to present the most critical, tragic, and petty side of human nature. They attract an audience by bringing out the worst in people. I know people who say they turn on the television in order to have background noise while they move about their day, but don't fool yourself into thinking that negative information doesn't get inside your head."
He concludes, "As a society, we've become desensitized to violence. It's commonplace in movies, videos, music, television programs, and books. This is one of the most detrimental ways to program your mind... Have you ever watched children as they watch violence on television? It's so unnatural to them that they squirm and take short breaths. Violence is unnatural to your physical body and loving soul --just as are bickering, critiquing, judging, and heartlessness-- but many have made it a part of who they are."

Wow, now as I step off my soapbox... I'm not trying to sound judgmental to those who enjoy these kinds of movies and shows, but personally, my heart can't handle it. I've been focusing the past week on how I can develop greater empathy, and the first small step I'm going to take in my life to become just a little bit kinder (or nice!) is to eliminate all media that promotes violence, pain, and fear.

Sweet Grandma Pat

A table of older women came to eat at Mimi's today. In fact, one was nearly a hundred, the other, perhaps in her late seventies. Mother and daughter. I remembered them from about eight or so months ago, partly because the near century old mother has the most piercing blue eyes, and partly because I reveled that a woman so old was consuming so much wine! I couldn't remember exactly what it was we talked about the time before, but I knew it was a good conversation, and I was thrilled to see them again.

The mother was a little lady whose white, thinning curls laid delicately around her face. She sat at the booth in a red, oversized pea coat. She sipped on her glass of wine, and ate her Cordon Bleu. Her eyelids sagged, and her wrinkles ran from the corner of her eyes down to her rosy cheeks. Her cherry lipstick extended far outside of the lip's boundaries, and it emphasized the broken crimson blood vessels in her face. She had a few random silver hairs that popped out of her chin, which squiggled and curled, and I wanted to tweeze them. I watched her as the alcohol absorbed into her tiny frame, and with every swallow she became more festive and light-hearted. It was truly a sight, and simple conversation would not do.

I joined the ladies when my shift ended for glass of Chardonnay and a dose of the "good days." The mother, who later insisted I call her Grandma Patricia (and even later, Pat), told me about parts of her life, and would rely on her daughter to produce certain details she couldn't recall, such as a town or person's name. She experienced life, and was not afraid to tell me anything she'd done! She looked back with no regrets! It was so much fun to sit and listen as she divulged secrets and experiences from her past. She spoke warmly about her family and her children. She saw the world, and she tasted life. I admired her spunk and her tenacity. Grandma Pat laughed, sang, cursed, and even gave me a kiss before she left. It was the perfect end to a long day at work.

I told her that I'd like to go to lunch with her and her daughter again before I moved to Arizona. I slipped her my number, and she slipped me a ten dollar bill. I don't expect I'll hear from her again, but I sure as heck will never forget her!

The Bell Tolls...

I'm not really sure what I'm going to write about tonight. The most important thing that happened today is that I was privileged to serve Paige, and Wes' family. It was a very somber lunch to say the least. I asked the hostesses not to seat me while I served the party because first of all, I was so overcome with heartache, but secondly, giving them an immaculately served meal was the only thing I could do at that moment to help them through their grief. I still cannot imagine what Paige is going through, nor can I even begin to understand the pain it must cause a parent to bury a child. It is something I hope I or any other loved one in my life never has to do.

I think that when something tragic like this occurs, it is a common human behavior to make the tragedy one's own. I'm not sure if it's some sort of defense mechanism inside the brain to deal with the confusion and emotions associated with such intense information, but I was dismayed at some of the reactions of those around me. (i.e., while watching Grey's Anatomy with the family on Thanksgiving night, Merideth was talking to the Chief Resident about how she was so upset that she would always be remembered as the one who delivered the news to the wife of a Paramedic who was dying; meanwhile, the wife was hysterically saying her goodbyes to the dying husband! Mike, who was watching, even said out loud, "Merideth,it's not about you!") I was so saddened by those who instead of trying to empathize with those directly affected with the news, were sending texts to everyone they knew to be the bearer of it. I was even a little angered with those I knew barely knew Wes, who were falling apart without any regard to his poor wife who is a widow at age 21 or his family who found him in his bed already gone.

Empathy. I suppose that's the word of the day. Empathy is being able to understand and share in another's feelings. It's my prayer for myself that I can have the clarity and awareness to be able to share and understand another's pain instead of taking it from them, and for selfish reasons, making it my own.

"No man is an Island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee." -John Donne

Family, Food, and Fun!

I wasn't sure I'd have time to post today, but yay(!), here's another Happy Thanksgiving Post! I am so excited for today! I have to go to work for five hours, and then I'm off to Kacee's for Thanksgiving dinner!

I couldn't sleep last night. It was an emotionally draining day, and I needed to find something to make me laugh. I looked at a bunch of You Tube Videos, Best Week Ever Clips, and then I found the video that made me laugh out loud. Here it is, and thank you Will Ferrell, for making me go to sleep on a lighter note. Warning: Pearl has a potty mouth!