Boy, do I have some Tales to Tell...
Monday, November 28, 2005
While walking on the treadmill today, I noticed that the lady on the machine next to me was a tad skinny. As she got off, I noticed that she was more than a tad skinny. She was anorexic. Now, you may say, "How would you know, Tim? Are you a doctor?" No I am not. I am just judgemental. AND I can spot an anorexic (and so can you) from a mile away.

I thought about it and I can never remember a day when I ever felt sorry for anorexics. I remember when Karen Carpenter died from anorexia nervosa. All I could think was, "Girl, you missing out on some good eatin'."

Since I have worked in the fitness industry for quite a while, I have seen my share of eating disorders. I have seen women and men put their bodies through hardships by denying themselves proper nutrition. And it affects all people. The most obvious is the young white female. But it's also in men. The young gay ones trying to be skinnier or more muscular so that they can fit in. The straight men who have now discovered the benefits of metrosexuality. Bottom line is that they avoid making proper eating choices.

There is also the extreme of stuffing your face to drown your issues. Let's leave that for another post. But back to anorexia... what I really want to say is: "STOP already!!! Get a fucking sandwich. Eat something. This denial of food is so 1980's. Get a new issue. Like addiction to Vicodin. Jeez." Later.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
This week feels like it's never going to end. I can't believe it's only Sunday. And I work tonight. As a matter of fact, I just got off from work. Another reason I am not fond of the holidays. My chosen career dictates that I work like crazy.

I spent Thanksgiving in Philly with Mike and his family. Overall, had a fine time. I just hate the whole travelling in a crowded train drama. When I was single, my family and I had a discussion about coming home for the holidays. I had decided that I was no longer going to be part of the madness of going home to stuff my face with food. I no longer wanted to be part of the whole insanity. They accepted. I ended up spending more quality times with them because it wasn't "forced". It was fine for a while. Then he came into my life. We became a couple. We moved in. Suddenly, it's like being married. His family for holidays since mine doesn't really do much for any holiday. Travelling isn't something I relish. Ever.

This year, I'm thinking that it may be the last year that I am going to be travelling for any part of the holidays. I just want to be home. My home. Our home. The one where we spend most of our time together. The one where we live our lives. The one where we create our own traditions. Our own joy. Our own.

I know he'll be disappointed. But, I think it has to start somewhere. My job doesn't have "holidays off". It's fine with me. Truth is, I chose this career because I was fine not celebrating holidays. But it has to be done. I can't be on a two trains in less than 24 hours. It drains me. Especially when I have to go straight to work.

And to think, Christmas is just around the corner. Here's to hoping. Later.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Other cities always make me mad,
Other places always make me sad,
No other city ever made me glad,
'cept New York...
I love New York, I love New York, I love New York.

I know that a whole bunch of people hate that song. I love it. Todd said, "Of course you love it." But I do. I love New York.

It's almost 2:00 am and I am just about wound down from work. I can't believe it's Thanksgiving week. The store is already going insane with the amount of people shopping. And it has just started. We expect a lot more in the next few days. I have to work until midnight on Wednesday. Just thinking of it makes my lower back ache. To be honest, ever since I started retail, I have grown to dislike the holidays. They certainly are no fun for many of us who work in retail. And anyone who says they love it is drugged out and lying.

But despite my disdain for this time of year, I am thankful for many things. I'm thankful for the fact that the store leadership feeds us some really good food to show their appreciation for our hard work. They even have massage therapists on hand to give us rub downs if we want. And the Bodycare department gives us facials to ease our tension. BUT, I am especially thankful for my ability to sass a customer without it coming across as attitude. I think it has something to do with the fact that they can't believe some Asian guy is capable of such behavior. For that I am so grateful. Later.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
For the past 5-6 years, my partner and I have been going on vacation to a friend's cabin/lakehouse on the shore of Lake Michigan in Michiana, MI. It's always six blissful days of doing absolutely nothing. Well, mostly nothing. Some of the more strenuous things we do include walks on the shore, bringing firewood in, and washing dishes. It's really a place for us to just shed the tension of city living. Plus it does help that the cabin/lakehouse is all tripped out with almost any amenity you can imagine.

This year's visit got me thinking about relevancy. As we get older, does relevancy really matter? If you've accomplished and experienced a lot, does it matter what anyone thinks of what you do anymore? If you've sold millions of records, successfully transitioned from one medium to the next, created a comfortable living space for yourself, and brought joy and enlightenment to many, does being relevant even matter?

Our friend who owns the place we stayed in, started me thinking about this when he was asked to create an auction item for a charity event. He's exceptionally creative and has used his creativity to much success. As his partner told him of this task, he began the freak-out mode. For the rest of the evening, all he could talk about was what he should do. But not talk about it in a sense of bragging. More about the sense of "do you approve". After a continuous back and forth struggle of what he should or shouldn't do, I finally said, "You know, they wouldn't ask you if they didn't think you could do it. Plus, just create something. This is a charity event. You're not being commisioned. Who cares if they think it's ground breaking. It's not always about being the best." To this, my friend responded, "I see that you weren't the last kid picked in gym class."

Well, you know what? I was one of the last kids picked in gym class (until they discovered that I really was good at sports). But, honestly, at what age do you stop worrying about whether or not people will like your creations? Especially, if they aren't about establishing yourself. When we are young and trying to make a name for ourselves, we tend to do things to get the attention of our peers. Whether it was changing our physique, accomplishing a task, smoking, doing drugs, it was always about belonging. I guess, what I would like to know is, if you've already done that, when do you stop?

I've stopped. I'm 35 years old. I know that what I do is not just satisfactory, it is good. I'm no longer trying to prove anything to anyone. Not to me. Not to my partner. Certainly not to the world around me. When I see my friend constantly worry about whether what he is doing is gonig to be approved or whether it will be considered magnificent, I get this sense of fatigue. It's tiring to me. I have told him to just let it go. To calm down and enjoy the fruits of his labor (and he has many fruits to savor). But, I don't know if he can.

On the other hand, what does it say about our society when all we wonder about is whether someone is relevant? I say, enjoy them for what they accomplish. If you like it, enjoy it. If not, then move on. It's not always about being the best always. Sometimes, it's just about being. Later.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Whenever a customer asks me where something is, I most likely will walk them to the product. If the we don't carry the product they want, I give them an alternative. Almost always, I do have an alternative. Sometimes, I have several alternatives. If the product is out of stock, I reassure them that it has been ordered, and that it will be on the shelves as soon as it is available, and apologize for the inconvenience.

Last night, I was helping a customer with something when some middle-aged woman cut into our conversation to ask me a why we have been out of a product for so long. Since, she rudely interrupted the other customer mid-sentence, I told her that I would be right with her as soon as I was done with her fellow customer. Since I had to walk the first customer to some product, I assumed the bitchy middle-aged most-likely-hasn't-been-laid-in-years-and-should-masturbate-to-alleviate-tension dry-haired-been-living-in-NYC-by-herself-too-long woman asked someone else for help. Apparently, she did, did not like the answer (which was the same as the answer in the first paragraph), and decided to harumph around for a bit. She came back to me, I gave her an alternative, and she was still not content.

What I would like to know is what people like this would like us to do? So, your fucking cracker is out of stock. There are tons of other things to eat. It's not the end of the world. My co-worker asked me why it bothers me. I told him because I have lived in situations where food choice is not an option. And that there are people in this country that don't have the luxury of food choice either. And that, not having her "cracker" was not a matter of life or death. And that, at the end of the day, being angry over missing product is absolutely imbecillic.

There's that saying that says that one should leave New York before it makes them hard. I don't believe that at all because I love New York and I don't think becoming hard is a bad thing (minds out of the gutter, please) as long as you don't use it to become close-minded. Or as an excuse to treat anybody poorly. Later.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
My cat is taking on my personality. She's becoming more vocal (meows me all the time). She does it in the morning when she's hungry, she meows me when I come home after work, and she is meowing me right now as I type this entry.

When I first met Mike (it's his cat really), she was a very introverted fat cat. She was so big that the vet told us to put her on a diet. So I did. She's nice a svelte now. Although she has some loose skin but it's not an issue with her. It's kinda like how I feel about losing weight. So, you can't get that last five pounds off. Who cares.

When we go to sleep at night, the cat likes to snuggle up next to either one of us. Kinda like how I like to snuggle up to my sweetie. And when I say snuggle up, I mean snuggle up. So much so that if she feels that you are not paying attention to her comfort, she swipes at you with a paw. Honestly, I find it so cute when she does that. I just want to eat her all up sometimes.

She's also very playful. In the beginning, she never liked being handled. I used to grab her and hug her. She would put up a fight. Sometimes, she would try to bite my hands. She would flail her paws and squirm. In the past two months, she seems to welcome my attention. So much so that as I type on this keyboard, she rests her head on my left wrist and often rubs it on my hands. Very touchy feely with me. Not so much with Mike. Weird.

Lately, she's been very interested in everything I do. She follows me around in the morning as I do things. For example, she was sticking her nose into the plants as I watered them (she never does this). She also was sitting by me as I washed the morning dishes. Very inquisitive. Very hands-on. Very needy.

Not sure what that all says about me. Especially the "needy" part. Later.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
I remember when I was young and discovering my sexual inclinations. We all know those moments when something or someone makes us sexually aware. Like when you are with your family and you notice someone you find very attractive and you can't take your attention away from them. But you know you have to because you fear being discovered by your family because they don't know you are gay. Or at least you don't know if they do. And you know that the person that you are attracted to knows that you are looking at them. And you aren't sure if they will respond. Or, worse, reciprocate. You are torn up inside. Should you look? You think you shouldn't. But you do. And they catch your eye. And you know they know. And you are simultaneously elated and mortified. You look down. Every emotion is whirling in your head. Your body wants to implode. You feel like a wreck and you can't explain it.

Now... try being the other person. When it happens, I just want to go over and tell them that it's all okay. That it will be fine. That nothing is wrong. That all the feelings are natural. That someday, you will look back and laugh at it all. That one day you'll look up and smile. And he'll smile back. And you'll laugh with him. And cry with him. And life will be wonderful.

At least, I'd like to. But I'm not sure about the last part. Later.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Ahhhhh... business trips. I tend to think of them as work away from work. As much as they want to build them up as "fun", they really are not that much fun. I mean, I had a good time laughing and hanging out with some of my coworkers. I even enjoyed meeting a whole bunch of Team Members from all over the region. And I did get something out of the whole function. But, at the end of the day, it's just work away from work. Nonetheless, it was good to get out of the City for three days.

I did get a chance to do a quick stop by the International Tennis Hall of Fame. Pretty amazing for a fan like me. A couple of things that stand out: the whole thing is very intimate and Serena Williams has gigantic feet! I mean, GIGANTIC!!! I stayed about 30 minutes because I did not want to subject my friend Christine to too much of the excitement. She's not a sports fan at all.

Newport, Rhode Island is way too touristy. The town seems to shut down after 3:00pm. Luckily, Christine lives in Providence which is so cute. Her apartment is so cute. The restaurant where she part-times is so cute. The college boys from Brown University are so cute. You get the picture. I imagine that winter is pretty cold there. But I can see making a life there somehow. I mean, if you had a great job or something.

Amtrak... oh, Amtrak... so expensive... so not on time. Comfortable seats. Don't go to the dining car. Enough said.

I am glad to be home. Lots of work to do since I have been off for three days. I heart NYC. Later.
I'm just writing down some of the things that run through my head.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Eating up the City before it eats me up. I'm a freelance cook who spends his free time working out, cooking for "my man", and wondering why the Right is so concerned about my bedroom.

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