Changing the world

Was in a chat room, since Dragon Warrior 4 is driving me nuts, and I'm lacking in desire to log into EQ atm.

Met a Gay disabled Vietnam vet from Nelsonville. OMG, he was cracking me up. I think he gets the title of the most grizzled old man I have ever run across.

Work is still bad, but the owner of my franchise seems to like me. Big Papa himself is flying into Columbus later today to inspect our store, so the franchise higher ups came by to do a dry run inspection. First of all, our owner looks like Christopher Walken. It's disturbing. Second, he sat there boring holes into my back with his eyes, while I demonstarted that yes, I know what the hell I am doing. I'm off tonite, which means I get to miss meeting Big Papa, which is probably good, since I probably wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut. (How much did you settle that lawsuit for? You know, the case involving your underage female companion?)

Ugh...My whole goal for today is to go to the library, since I've finished re-reading most of my persoanl stash of books. I keep putting it off because I have a few reserve itms that should be arriving very soon. Thwn I need to finish the bathroom, and probably do laundry.

What I want to do is go see LXG, it just I'd rather see a cheap matinee than pay full price at the blood sucking movie theatre close to my house.

Ok, I watched the remake of House on Haunted Hill tonight. It, The Haunting, Thirteen Ghosts, and probably Ghost Ship, all are horrid remakes of classic films. (Ok, so the originals of HOHH and 13 Ghosts weren't THAT great. But they were a hell of a lot better than the current remakes. And they had the advantage of being "gimmick" movies.) Then, for the hell of it, let's consider Gus Van Sant's Shot by shot recreation of Psycho. Why remake a classic? Wouldn't it be easier to just clean up an old print, dust off the gimmick, and re-release it?
I mean, the originals were effective even without the gimmicks. And especially without the elaborate sets and CGI that are de riguere in any of today's horror films. And special tomatoes to The Haunting for ignoring not only the original movie, but the book as well. I mean, hell, even Jason X ended up using the damn fake looking CGI effects. Rent the original Friday the 13th, or for that matter any of the original slasher flicks, and compare them with recent sequals. All of the originals were low budget, but effective without any of today's technology. Most of today's aren't even attempting to be scary or shocking. More like "Look at our set! We spent $2 million on it and $10 on the script!"
Not that any of my bitching matters. The new versions make money, even if they are crap. I remember a few years back when Fangoria started making movies saying they were for the fans. Of the 2 I saw, Mindwarp was mildly watchable (only because of the cast) and I, Zombie could have refered to the acting. The only amusing scene in that one was the guy's penis rotting off when he tried to have a zombiegasm.
I just wish someone would remember that something can be scary without CGI monsters that get more screentime than the heroes.

Ok, well, the way the week is going, I'm going to be in OT by Sunday night. Matt, our other closer, is still hospitalized.

In the meantime, I got schedualed into OT next week. w00t! *chuckles* Someone buy the coffin now, I'll be taking up residence by next Sunday.

Been reflecting on the past year today, but that can wait.

I hate OSU students. I hate training them every year to be home when their pizza arrives. I hate BuckID.

I'm hoping everyone is ok tonite. My Wonder Woman outfit is at the cleaners.

Before I forget, macabrebytch added me recently. Welcome back my friend to the show that never ends, I'm so glad you could attend, come inside come inside.

Yeah, I'm tired. But I'm home alone, and I'm surprised the vice squad didn't hit work tonight, since the entire crew was passing a joint around, and most of us brought beer. It's just sad that pizza creates addicts so easily.

Still taking notes, and the funny realization crept in today that the woman doesn't cite sources for her opinion. Now I know why she was writing fiction. When I get around to writing my reaction, I'm debating on using half-assed MLA format just so I can be one up on the woman. Or it might be a man. There's no biography in the back. Just contact info for the Moody Bible Corp. I'm still trying to figure out the claim that G-d smote every civilization that had gay people in it. Huh? Rome fell long after Xtianity became the State religion.

Anyway, I'm going to bed to sleep off the effects of vice.

Well, two of the roomies are in Buffalo for the weekend and the other one is moving.

I'm closing every night until Monday.

*screams very loudly, doing his best Medea imitation*

I have a really bad story idea. Pray I don't write it.

And have I mentioned that I hate Coast to Coast? Everyone here listens to it, but as near as I can tell, it utilizes the worst aspects of the Trekkies and Miss Cleo types of the world to annoy me.

LJ just ate what I had typed out dammit.
( morbid dwelling on 9-11-01 )
Fuck. I said I wasn't going to get like this tonight. The original thought was something along the lines of the farther away the event, the less real it seems. Or the less meaning it has for the observer. My father died nearly 20 years ago. December 2nd used to be this big day of mourning for me. Now, half the time, I forget the signifigance altogether. 5-17-97 was the last time I saw a man I sometimes think of as the closest thing I have to a soulmate. The only reason I remember the date is an old fading journal entry I made the next day. All things fade over time. I think it's quite possibly the only reason we remain sane rational beings.

Great, I guess it's my week to be the ray of darkness.

Hugs to all my homies. May joy and peace find you.

James

I got motivated and wrote this. I'm fairly sure what I wrote was accurate, if it's not, let me know. It's been a while since I last taught AIDS awareness.

In response to Shannon Millhuff's Letter on August 8, 2002.
The first question I have is wondering what AIDS drugs have to do with the article to which she was responding.
Second, some forms of cancer are now treatable, and can be knocked into remission.
Third, where did she get her statistics of "90% of which is caused by a perverted lifestyle. The other 10% affects women and children who were forced into a situation over which they had no control"? Last I saw, AIDS was growing the fastest among heterosexuals, particularly young heterosexuals and minorities. So, I can only infer she is calling heterosexual men a "perverted lifestyle".
Fourth, some cancers are more prevelant among the HIV+ population, So even AIDS medication research is going to go towards cancer research by definition.

I decided not to end this with "Ignorence is no excuse for stupidity."

Past that, Othello was wonderful, as was dinner with mom at Schmidt's Sausage Haus. Nothing like a Bahama Burger and a cream puff. I can be sick later.

My post before this one originally said something much different, before I went back and edited it. I'm still not going to ever let it see the light of day. Let it die silently.

Damn it, everything I type comes out shitty tonight. I used to be an activist, and then I met the AIDS Quilt, and all the activist bones in my body dies a silent death. (I sense a repeated metaphore here. silence=death. Maybe my activism isn't quite as dead as I'd like it to be. *gets out .45 mm shotgun and shoots "Activist James Action Figure" in the head*) Anyway, as I was saying, being confronted with death on any scale makes me examine myself. I'd generalize, and say this happens to everyone, but this is MY journal, and I can only speak for myself. Being confronted with all the testaments of love for people I had never met before...I think I cried for 48 straight hours after the display. And I was only looking at a small segment of the full thing. I don't think I have the strength to look at the full thing when the assemble it.
But anyway, that was the death of my activism. I didn't have it in me to constantly go out and try to change people's minds by screaming about getting my human rights back. I know how bad that sounds, but I came to the conclusion that the best I could do was be an example for those I was close to, to show them that I could be something other than "just another faggot". I suppose in its own watered down way, that's a form of activism in and of itself. But a lot of it was a realization that I couldn't make things change instantaneously. I'd prefer to be like water, eroding hate slowly and over time. It's really hard to hate a person, while it's really easy to hate an idea. Yeah, visibility is one thing, and in a lot of ways, particularly in college, I was one of the first gay peeps people had ever met. (No offense to WSU, but it did attract a lot of people from towns smaller than mine, and mine was pretty damn small.) And I think I've been sucessful in my quest. I've made friends with people who used to use "faggot", "queer", "dyke", and "gay" as insults hurled at one another's masculinity or femininity. I can't help out with racism as much, since I'm too damn WASPy, but there again, I do what I can. And what really sucks is when I find some long hidden bit of homophobia or -ism hiding in the back of my psyche. Because then I get to feel like a hypocrite. It doesn't help that my Uncle Paul could be Archie Bunker. Or that I occasionally feel like I'm overcompensating for my own issues.
There was a time when I was so stressed that most of my friends thought I was going to kill off my high school if I lost my toothbrush. That was the year I had Chevy Hoover yelling "queer!" at me every time I walked past him. And now, I just ignore it. Being a gay man is part of who I am, but it is NOT everything that I am. Just as my religion is another part, but again, it is not how I define myself. Yes, they are another set of filters that information passes through, but they are not who I am, or how I want people to define me. I'd rather have people think of me as a mensche than a gay mensche or a jbc/pagan/whatever mensche. (Actually, what I'd really like is every gay man mourning my loss at a funeral for not getting a crack at me, but that can wait for another fantasy post.)
I am who I am. I can't change some things about myself, but by the same token, I learn something new and therefore change and grow a bit each day. It's weird but true, I am not the same person from one minute to another. I just hope that with each new me, I'm better than the last one.
And I'm really sorry to take up everyone's friends pages with this semi-rant, but I really wanted to express some of the things I'm feeling in a way that people can hopefully relate to.
Shalom, blessed be, Amen.

Again, apologies to taocub and joshuapanther for missing IMs. for some reason, my away message cut out. And I was at work for a loooong time.

Ok, here's the story of my day. I went to bed around 4 last night, pissed off as all hell at certain roomies who like to play angst metal at loud volumes when I'm trying to sleep. (Staind being the band that pisses me off the most. Someone should shoot Aaron and put him out of my misery.) I mean, if he wants to listen to that crap, he has a radio, and most of it is one one of the local stations all the time anyway...

So I get up around 8 so I can hit 10:30 Shabbat morning service at Temple Israel. Said asshole roomie is napping on the freaking couch again. Mind you, I nap on the couch on rare occasions, but I don't plant my ass there every moment I'm not at work or on a computer. Then again, I also don't solicite wanna-be hookers on AIM, so that their fathers IM me in the middle of the night with bad words. But then again, I usually don't leave Trillian up unless I set an away message.

Well anyway, I get to Temple about 40 minutes early, and no one was there yet. So, I sit around re-reading this cheesy Vampire novel set in Jerusalem circa 1193 CE that I was returning to the library after services. Well, again, I was greeted warmly and by name by people who's names I can never remember. (I am horrible with names. I have been known to call people things for no reason whatsoever.) The bright side of Temple was I actally am getting the hang of the Hebrew phonetics and therefore didn't have much trouble getting through some of the service. The dark side was that when I did get confused was when the Ark was opened. The prayer book has no phonetics in it for that portion. Therefore, I just hummed along like I knew what I was doing. After service, we had the kiddush(? There's kiddush and kaddush, and I get them confused) with the bread and wine, which was kind of fun, since I got to talk with my man Scott again. Rabbi also told a really horrid pun right before we pulled the bread. ("What do you get when you squeeze a temple? Jews.") We were also reminded that Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are coming up. (This was mentioned mainly because we're hitting the end of Deuteronomy.) BTW, anyone who wants to is more than welcome to come here for the holidays. G-d knows I could use the help getting through them. My list of atonements I need to make with people is getting huge.
So, I catch the bus back, and hit the library. Irony, since I got the next book in the on-going saga of the Rapture cycle. If I may say a few words here, the books are campy. I can't believe people take them so seriously. Particularly when it strikes me that the authors are making money fleecing the suckers into reading them. I keep forgetting that most ppeople who read the series should go "bahh" and wear lots of wool. But there again, I'm reading it. But I'm not buying the books. Besides, if you skip the preaching, they make quick, if trite, reads. I also got some book recommended via comments over in thereadingroom called The Public Works Trilogy by Matt Hess. I guess one of the characters is a hologram of Ayn Rand.
So, I came home and passed out before work. For some reason, we were dead until 11:00PM tonight. Pissed me off, since I had everything cleaned when the phones exploded. But I did get some good gossip from CPD about the guy who shot his wife, kidnapped his kids, and then got in a shoot-out with the State Highway Patrol 3 counties away from where it all started. Seems the guy (fired from CPD a few weeks ago, the wife he shot was a week into Academy training) was fired for shooting at a shoplifter. Well, instead of sdhooting at the driver of the getaway car, he shot at the passenger. I guess he also got suspended earlier in his career for arresting 3 suspects, putting 2 in the back, and sticking the 3rd in the truck of his cruiser. I also was told that the gentleman who owns Pure Platinum (one of our local strip clubs) house burned down a while back, and they found a local vagrant tied to a chair in his basement.
So anyway, I'm home now, and probably headed to bed.

There is a lot I want to say.

I wish I could stop falling in love with people who aren't in love with me. I fucking hate that. I hate that all it takes is the though of an old flame to drive me right back to them in some way. I hate that I'm having erotic dreams about someone I care very greatly for, but with whom things didn't work out due to issues beyond my control. (Herb, for the curious.)

I hate that my mother is getting pissy with me bacuse I have to be in a wedding on a day she wants to do something. I hate that she's mad I'm thinking of converting to Judaism. I hate realizing that she's as human as the rest of us, with her own predjudices.

I hate being alone. I hate that most of my friends are currently dating, living together, or married. I hate that I'm jealous of them and their happiness. I hate that the best off I had for a date recently was "We can go out for coffee, then go back to your place and you can spank me until my ass is blistered".

I hate that I can't get motivated to finish the damn pizza murder mystery. I hate that I can't seem to hold on to an idea longer than a few days anymore.

I hate my job. I hate answering phone calls from the ghetto featuring someone mispronouncing English at me. I hate sports camps ordering 90 pizzas at a time. I hate Steve making fun of me.

I hate my life. I hate not having the courage to end it somedays. And I hate feeling this way.