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I ended last month on a political note, and so I shall begin this month. Earlier this week, a remarkable thing happened in American politics. Senator John McCain, a Republican candidate for President, renounced the Fundamentalist Christian faction of the Republican party. He specifically charged them with being intolerant and went on to say that the Republican party is the party of Ronald Reagan, not the party of Pat Robertson or Jerry Fallwell. (Robertson and Fallwell are two politically active Fundamentalist ministers from the South).
This was a big step forward for the GOP. No Republican candidate has ever dared challenge the political power of the religious extremists who have held sway over the party for more than a decade. There is hope that economic conservatism can be found in the same party as social rationalism yet!
John McCain indeed seems to be more in the tradition of Ronald Reagan than his Republican opponent, George W. Bush. While Bush is the darling of the Party, McCain is an outsider with his own agenda. I think that McCain could actually win the Presidency in a general election, but I don't think he'll get the chance. Bush will end up with the nomination, having sold his integrity to the Party and special interests to get it, but then will be defeated by the Democratic candidate in November. The voters already know he's a political puppet disguised as his Father, who was an actual leader.
Whereas John McCain would probably make the better President of the two, he's certainly no straight shooter. Despite his attacks on the bigotry and intolerance of the Christian Right, he suffers from a fair dose of intolerance and irrationality himself. Last year he opposed the Hate Crimes Act and the Employment Non-Discrimination Act. On February 25th of this year he announced his endorsement of California State Proposition 22 which would forbid California from recognizing or performing marriages other than those with one man and one woman.
John McCain also suffers from a personality flaw that would inhibit a McCain Administration. He has a short and violent temper. That is a major flaw in a Chief Executive. The Oval Office is very isolated and the President is dependent on his advisors to bring him pertinent information and logical recommendations. McCain's temper will invariably end up cowing his advisors into being shameless and fearful sycophants, hopelessly distorting his world view. This very process bread the paranoia in the Oval Office that ultimately lead to the self-destruction of the Nixon Administration. Richard Nixon was a far more qualified statesman and lawmaker than John McCain will ever be.
Before I vote in the California primary election next week, I need to take a good look at the leading Democratic candidates. I haven't formed a solid opinion about either of them yet. I've read a little, and I'm inclined to think there is one that would make a better President than the other, but I don't know enough yet to responsibly cast a vote. I'll do some more research and my conclusions and opinions will undoubtedly appear here in the near future.
You might notice that I'm treating this as a four candidate race. I couldn't care less about party affiliations on their face value. In fact, I wonder how we ended up with the political parties? Does the Constitution call for them? I don't remember anything like that being in there. I think I need to get out my copy and have a good look. I don't support the two-party system, I support individual candidates. What did the Founders arrange for us?
Thursday March 2nd, 2000
It must be the Primary season that's got my thoughts primarily occupied by politics and religion. Yesterday, Vermont's "Civil Unions" bill passed committee. Soon Vermont's homosexual couples will have a 'separate but equal' status to marriage available to them. Good on Vermont! Today, the Family Research Council mailed a flyer to every school district in America which said that "homosexuality is a dangerous and destructive lifestyle, that research shows there is no 'gay gene,' and that thousands of people have walked away from the homosexual lifestyle.'' Shame on the Family Research Council. *Grrrrr!* It seems like America is in a struggle with itself to either become a Libertarian utopia or the Protestant Christian equivalent of a Middle Eastern Theocracy. Last night Brent and I decided to turn off the news and settle down for a movie instead - let the world sort itself out for a day.
So, barring the first paragraph, today's entry is going to be a movie review! I haven't done a review here since Princess Mononoke, so it's about time I lightened up and lived a little. Brent and I went down to the local Hollywood Video store, in search of a gay themed movie to watch together while munching pizza and snuggling on the couch. For some reason Blockbuster doesn't ever seem to have any of these sorts of movies. Hmmmm. Hollywood Video had three new releases along these lines for us to choose from; "Trick", "Get Real", and "Better than Chocolate". We want to see them all eventually, but we selected "Get Real" to take home. It turned out to be a great choice.
"Get Real" is a bittersweet British film made in 1998 and is
now available on video.
It is directed by Simon Shore and written by
Patrick Wilde, who also wrote the edgy British TV series "This Life".
Ben Silverstone stars as Steven Carter, a fifth form student at a prep
school in Basingstoke. Steven is a skinny, shy and somewhat brainy kid. I identified with him immediately when other, bigger kids bully him for being gay when they didn't really know or believe he actually was gay. In fact, only Steven's gal pal Linda knows. That is, until one day when Steven is cruising at a park and discovers one of his tormentors and the school's most popular, most gorgeous jock, John Dixon, there looking for guys too! In a powerful moment when they've recognized each other and John is approaching him, Steven is paralyzed both by his shock and embarrassment at having his secret discovered and by his delight and excitement at the chance to go out with the most desirable guy in school.
Although John is the more aggressive and popular of the two at
school, he is far behind Steven in terms of accepting and dealing with
his sexual orientation. Steven, with nothing to loose in terms of
popularity at school, is almost ready to come out publicly. John
doesn't understand his own feelings and is determined not to have
anyone find out lest he loose his popularity. Despite the pressures of having to hide their growing relationship from parents, girlfriends, and schoolmates, Steven and John become an unlikely couple. In the process both boys learn a great deal about life and love. Inevitably their personal growth and the circumstances of their relationship threaten to change everything they've ever known.
Silverstone's performance as Steven is touching and emotional. Despite a sometimes predictable plot, Steven Carter becomes a very real and sympathetic character - you just want to cuddle him up and tell him things are going to be alright. Silverstone seemed to have a deep understanding of the pain and joy of being a gay kid. I saw myself as a sixteen year old in him time and again.
Wilde's plot is neat and tidy. The story may be predictable, but only because it is the sort of thing that goes on in so many schools every year. Kevin's obligatory climactic speech is pertinent and is one of the emotional highlights of the film. The beauty of the script is subtle and includes clever puns and ironic juxtapositions. Shore's direction style focuses on drawing the most out of the characters' emotional performances and keeps the photography simple and clear. He uses pop music in the style of John Hughes, but his song choices and placement smugly further the humorous irony of the dialogue.
Every gay kid will relate to and enjoy this movie, as will the straight kids who can approach it without fear. It is also a film from which adults can learn a great deal about what it's like to be a gay youth today too. My only disappointment in the movie is that it begins with Kevin cruising for anonymous sex at a public restroom.
I think it's about time gay culture outgrew such degrading behavior and I regret that the idea was reinforced in "Get Real". It seemed out of character for Kevin. I suppose Wilde placed him there to make the point that social intolerance has forced even nice gay kids like Kevin to lower their sense of self worth to the point of finding sex with strangers in the woods like an animal. By the end of the film, Kevin makes an important discovery for himself that we all can learn from - if gay people want to take their place as equals in society, its time to 'get real' and behave like equals instead of slinking off to the shadows in fear.
Friday March 3rd, 2000
Last night I spent a few hours at the ski shop preparing for this weekend's tour to Squaw Valley that I'll be leading. Afterwards, I went out to have a beer with a couple of the tour guides, including Julie. I thought about telling her how I felt on the ski trip last weekend. After my second Guiness, it was about to come out in a verbal avalanche, but I held it all in check. What good would it have done to say something? It would have made me look a little silly, but I don't think it would have changed Julie's world view any. If I had drunk a third Guiness, I prolly wouldn't have been able to contain myself. I went home to prepare my personal gear for the trip instead.
After packing, I put the webcam on and got ready for bed. Just as I
was turning in, I got an e mail from a dear friend who's having a hard
time. I so wished I could be there to hold him a while and make him
feel better. Life is stressful for him at the moment, and although he's
a bright guy with a heart of gold, the stress wears him down. I know
that he's going to get through it all OK, and could even enjoy tough
going in life the way I enjoy a tough glacier climb, but he's young and
it's almost impossible for him to see that right now. I just wish I
could share a little strength to get him through the low places with
less pain. I'll be thinking about him all weekend.
Wednesday March 8th, 2000
When last I wrote here, I was preparing to go to Lake Tahoe on yet another ski tour. The tour went well on most accounts. I had one particularly difficult client who wasn't very bright and created a lot of problems for herself by taking it upon herself to change all the standard bookings we'd arranged for her. Suddenly, her schedule didn't fit that of all the other tour members and her guide was unwilling to hold everyone else up for her. Nor was he willing to give her a refund since she'd screwed up her tour on her own. She continually frustrated me and I had to calm myself with that old expression "it takes all kinds...". But exactly what, I wondered, does it take all kinds to do?
I woke Sunday morning with a sore throat that blossomed into a raging cold by Sunday night. I was exhausted by the time I got home. I went to bed with my long polypropylene mountain underwear still on and shivered myself to sleep while sweating profusely. Only through the graces of good chemistry was I able to make it to work on Monday. My own professional nurse, Brent, came over Monday night. Ostensibly he was to look after me, but in reality he had the same cold I did! We kept the kissing down to little smooches so as not to reinfect one another and went to sleep. Tuesday morning my voice was completely gone and I decided to stay home and rest instead of work. Brent stayed with me too! We had a sick day in bed together. It was nice, even if I didn't feel that great.
Towards the end of the day we got up to go vote in the California Primary election, then drive to Brent's house to feed his cats and stay the night there. With our dinner we watched "Drop Dead Gorgeous" on DVD. I'm not going to do a movie review this time, but it was a very funny and original movie. There was nothing formula about it, and those of you with brains will get a lot more out of it than those who don't like to think. Sleep came easy, with the aid of a little Nyquill, and we both passed out before 9:00 pm.
This morning, while driving back home from Brent's house to get ready for work, I listened to the election results. I was sorely disappointed with the collective intellect of the voters. I think that Bill Bradley or John McCain would make better Presidents than either Al Gore or George W. Bush. Of course, both of the candidates I liked got rejected and will, in all reality, soon have to shut down their campaigns.
What enraged me the most was that Californians passed the Knight Initiative, Prop 22, the Limitation on Marriage Act. Not only did Californians pass it, but it wasn't even close - 61% for, 39% against. What the hell are these people thinking?!!! Is Kalifornia going to become some kind of insane Nazi Republic?!! This is the State I was born in, and now it's people are rejecting me the same way that I was rejected and tormented in it's public school system. I just want to pack up my things and move out. In the immortal words of Eric Cartman "screw you guys! I'm going home!"
Trouble is, I am home. Monterey is my hometown and I feel like there's no room for me here. I'm much more seriously thinking about sending the Canadian Government a request for political asylum, with copies to the editors of several major Californian and Canadian newspapers. I could be quite happy as a political exile in Vancouver or Victoria. At least I could move to Seattle as a step in the right direction. I'd be applying for jobs today if it weren't for Brent. He can't move for a few years. It will take that long for him to complete school and continue to build the work experience here that he needs to get a good job elsewhere. He also has family commitments here.
It would be far better for my career for me to move elsewhere as soon as possible. It would also be better for me to get farther away from my parents. I love Seattle and would like to be there. The Prop 22 thing is just yet another reason why I should move, these other reasons have been weighing more and more on my mind for the last year. But, would it be right for me to leave my boyfriend of three years behind? I love him and wouldn't like the separation at all. We'd be able to visit several times a year, but that's not enough. I don't know what people do in this kind of situation. I really don't know what I should do. Help?
Thursday March 9th, 2000
Akkk! I'm into the latter stages of a bad cold. For me, that means I'm going to spend the next month hacking and coughing like a was on the two packs a day plan (I don't smoke). I'm still a bit sniffley and I don't have much energy either. Oh, I know, "Bitch, bitch, bitch!", you say. Well, I'm mostly a pretty healthy person and I don't get sick often. When I do, I'm a terrible patient with lots of whingings and please-make-it-go-aways. My personal nurse, Brent, is a marvel for not simply smacking me into behaving myself!
Speaking of Brent, I decided that he is the one person in this world most capable of helping me with my dilemma about moving. We're into our fourth year of dating (I *can't* believe it's been that long! Sheesh, time goes by fast when you start getting old! A year now feels to me like a month used to.) and any decision about moving that I make needs to be a team decision that we make. We don't live together now, we don't think of ourselves as married, we're just boyfriends who are exclusive and faithful to one another. But we love each other and we have integrated ourselves into each others lives to the extent that I need Brent to help me make the best decision.
A friend from the U.K., Diarmuid, quickly replied to yesterday's entry to say that I shouldn't leave Brent. Rather urgently, before I did something rash, he wanted to point out to me that guys in good homosexual relationships often forget how hard it is to find them. He wanted me to appreciate what I already had and to value it more.
His point is well taken. In fact, it prompted me to have a good conversation with Brent last night. But, before I write about that, I must clarify what I meant in yesterday's entry. Words are powerful things and must be wielded with care. Yesterday I used the word 'leave' carelessly, in the context of my boyfriend. I should not have used that word in the same sentence as Brent's name. I intended to use 'leave' in terms of geography, not in terms of our relationship. The implication was to be that Brent and I would remain boyfriends and that he would follow me to Seattle as soon as it was practical to do so. I'm sorry if that wasn't entirely clear. I still welcome any readers' comments with regard to my proposal.
For me, moving to Seattle is something I've been thinking about for slightly longer than I've known Brent. I love the region, I have friends there, the social climate is gay-friendly without being gay-pandering, the economy is ripe with good jobs in the computer field, and my parents don't live there. Monterey is just the opposite. My present job at the lab will dry up in a matter of months. There is little work in IT administration around Monterey and pay scales are poor. There are very few young people, cultural events are all two hours north in SF, there is no gay community, the cost of living is insane (1 bed apt. in not so good area = $650/mo, cheap gas = $1.79/gal), and my parents live here. If I'm going to get my life out of the comfortable rut it is now in, I have to move.
Brent knows all this, but we discussed it again last night. We also discussed his situation. His mother died before he'd earned his Associate's Degree in Nursing and left to him the house he grew up in. He's never lived anywhere else. The neighborhood he's in has become very bad during the last ten years and he feels the need to leave it behind, but, nevertheless, it's still home to him. He cares for his Grandma, who still lives independently but has no other family more responsible than Brent to help her with things. Brent doesn't want to abandon that responsibility. Also, Brent is finishing his Bachelor's Degree in Nursing through a local program. It would be a shameful waste for him to transfer schools at this point, because so many of the advanced credits he's already completed wouldn't transfer. He needs to stay in the general Monterey area at least until he graduates next January. The question of his Grandma is more open ended.
Despite all those reasons to stay, Brent would also like to live a little bit of life outside the town he was born and raised in. We both like Seattle a lot, although Brent is a bit concerned about seasonal affective disorder. We agree it would be a good place for us to live together. Ahem. Yes, I said live together. There's another big step for both of us. The only issue is the timing. We don't really know when Brent could move there. It would be no sooner than January 2001, but could be later than that. My job will almost certainly cease to exist before then. I want to start applying for good new jobs while the economy is still hot and there just isn't much around here that's good for me. If I'm to go through the hiring process, I want it to be for a good job I plan on keeping for a while. So, if we're going to move sometime, it's logical that my next job be in Seattle.
Brent and I both agreed on all these points in our discussion. He thinks it would be perfectly OK for me to move to Seattle sometime in the Summer and we would just carry on a long distance relationship for the months that it would take him to move there too. He seemed confident that it wouldn't hurt what we had together. I don't think it would either, but it is still exposing our relationship to a separation, and that's a risk. Just as risky, I think, would be moving in together for the first time. We spend a lot of time at each other's places right now, but we still have our private space. Neither of us has had to give that up before. Is a new town the best place to learn about living with a boyfriend? Is there a best place?
We decided to not take any action yet, but rather sleep on all the ideas we brought up in our discussion. We'll talk about it again over the weekend. Perhaps by then any subconscious worries, fears, and joys will have bubbled to the surface to be added to our decision making process.
Monday March 13th, 2000
I'm still sick and I'm sick of it! I don't like getting up in the morning and coughing up a lung for the first 30 minutes of the day. I'm sick of having to blow my nose every five minutes all day long. Why the hell doesn't someone come up with a cure for the common cold?
OK, now that I've officially vented my rage against the flu, I can get on with things. I decided it would be best to have a quiet weekend to myself rather then attempt another ski tour. Brent worked 12 hour day shifts all weekend, so I didn't get to see much of him. Instead, I did a few chores around the apartment and read. Those of you who tune into my webcam were privileged to watch me clean out Oreo's cage, and spend a few hours on the computer doing my taxes. Sunday morning was the highlight of the weekend. I got to watch the first Grand Prix of the 2000 season. There are only 16 Grands Prix around the world in a year, so I great each one with a sense of Occasion. The inaugural race of 2000 was the Grand Prix of Australia. The Formula One cars raced their way through a temporary course set up on park roads around a lake in the City of Melbourne, Victoria. McLaren/Mercedes suffered the embarrassment of having both cars' engines blow up before halfway, leaving the win to Ferrari with German driver Michaeal Schumacher at the wheel. I'm hoping Ferrari can win the World Championship this year, so it was a good result in my opinion. Being a BMW owner, I'm also pulling for the Williams/BMW team, who came in third. Trouble is, I've never really liked the way the team owner, Frank Williams, does business, so it's hard for me to admit in public that I'm a supporter.
I spent many hours over the weekend reading and writing. If you haven't figured it out by now, words and ideas are quite important to me. It's natural, then, that I spend a lot of time reading and writing. I finished reading a book called "Gay Body" by Mark Thompson and invested some time writing a letter to Zup. The letter was in response to Andy's journaling of a discussion he had with a Catholic priest about being gay. I wrote a response to his initial entry publicly in this journal. In my comments I put words into the mouth of the priest which turned out to be incorrect and I used Andy's situation to trumpet (Hi Robb!) my own views. I had to apologize to Andy for that. The book I read was a study in the personal psychology and inner development of the author as he grew up and lived life as a gay person. Late last night, while coughing my way to sleep, I found the connections between the book and my letter to Andy.
In a way, they were both about morality. The conclusions I reached about morality surprised me a little too. I found myself squarely in Andy's camp rather than Mark's (the author). I've already stated here that I think the Christian version of god is far too limited and earthbound for me to accept as truth. That hasn't changed. That implies that I also do not accept any moral standards simply because the rest on the authority of the Christian god. There was no Almighty who gave Moses 10 commandments in stone, and there is never going to be a judgement day where that god will decide if I measured up to his will. "Gay Body" was clearly being written from this point of view too.
So, although I don't subscribe to god's laws, how is that I came to the conclusion that Andy was more morally correct in his thinking than Mark Thompson? I'll have to describe the book in more detail. I bought it because Thompson is a well respected gay writer, a veteran of the Advocate staff for 20 years, and the compiler of the most exhaustive history of the gay and lesbian movement in America. Moreover, he was a child right here on the Monterey Peninsula. His book speaks of growing up and going to High School as a gay kid in my own hometown! Even though I know better, I still feel like I was the only kid to ever grow up gay in Monterey. The first chapters of this book were utterly spellbinding because I shared so much in common with the writer.
Mark Thompson, however, was from a different era. While I grew up here in the 70's and 80's, he did so in the 60's and early 70's. I had a hard time growing up in such a conservative and isolated region in my time, I can only imagine how much worse it was for him. As a result, he bolted for San Francisco when he was old enough for college. The City was just beginning a two decade party of non-stop sex and drugs. It was all in the name of freedom from straight oppression. Thompson wasted no time adopting the new gay culture, he writes that his first night there he went to a sex club and got reamed for hours by a merchant marine he never saw again. He explicitly describes his progressive descent over the next 20 years into SF's famous gay bath houses and sex hotels where dozens of men anonymously do anything and everything to each other in huge groups, or in dilapidated hourly rented rooms. The sex parties lasted all night and Thompson used booze, LSD, and even heroine to enhance the experiences. The bars had to be hosed out each new morning to clear the floors of grease, and every excrement that can come from the human body.
In his book, Thompson justifies all these experiences as soul searching and healing his 'gay wound'. In fact, he describes his love of masochism as the most profound of his experiences and the Eros of pain as the most spiritual and soul healing thing he has ever found. After spending an afternoon with Mark in the hell of gay culture in the 70s and 80s, I was depressed and felt badly for the writer. Because of the mental abuse he suffered as a gay child in Monterey, he wasted his life on wanton hedonism and has attempted to rationalize it as 'spiritual'. I'm thankful that he was at least somewhat productive as a writer, but I wonder how much more he could have accomplished and enjoyed had he lead a more balanced life.
Balance in life, self respect, productive goals, giving and receiving value; these are the morals that Andy was concerned with. I am too. They're common sense and lead to happy, healthy individuals and a happy, healthy society. These morals were lacking in Mark Thompson's life. Now he is forced to look back on an unpleasant life which will be cut short by his HIV positive status. He has finally found a long term love, whom he could have enjoyed the next 30 years growing old with, but instead will leave him behind in grief, because he had no morals to guide his behavior over the previous 30 years.
For me, that's all morals are; guides to good behavior. Good behavior with happiness and productivity for the individual and thereby the collective as its goal. There is no ledger of debits and credits, no final tally which will send you to heaven or hell, there is only the cumulative measure that is your life. Morals can indeed change with the times, and should. It should also be recognized that morals are situational - what is good behavior in one situation is not always good in another. Morals can't be sharply defined, like rules on a computer, they behave more like indeterminate quanta. If they could be pinned down, then by my own reasoning it would be possible to construct an absurd morality in which Hitler, or say, Aztec priests exhibited good behavior.
Morals are important tools to enhance our lives and society. They shouldn't be venerated as idols in and of themselves. Especially not at the expense of what is good about our world. The life of writer Mark Thompson is a cautionary tale to head morality, and the tolerance of Andy's priest was a wonderful expression of how well morality can be applied to life.
Wednesday March 15th, 2000
Today is day 10 of my cold. Grrrrrr! All the aches and fever were gone in the first two days, but the sniffles and coughing just won't stop. Brent says I have an upper respiratory infection now and that I need antibiotics. I don't feel near enough to death to pay a doctor large sums of money to tell me what I already know, so I'll just keep sucking down the Robitussin until it goes away.
Work on Monday and Tuesday was a long trial, I still can't get the NFS errors to stop on my HP machines. I've been putting in way to many long days for someone in my beleaguered state of health. On top of that, I've got to find nine ski tour guides to meet this weekend's tour demands from the shop. So far, I've only found four who are willing to go and there are only 15 left on my active roster. I've called them all! Akk! Stress!
I got home from work about 6:20 last night and decided I wanted some sushi. A little hot wasabi is just the thing to clear out my sinuses. I went to the sushi deli and picked up a nice assortment for two, then ran home to check email and wait for Brent to come over. I had a nice conversation with Andy on ICQ, and got out an e mail to Bryan, who is stuck in St. Louis without his boyfriend this week, getting his Microsoft certification. When Brent came over we plunged into the sushi and watched the Tuesday TV lineup, including "Will and Grace". We didn't think W&G was as good as it has been lately, it seemed more like a very early episode before they improved. At 10:00 the news was on, and they started talking about an execution scheduled for later that night at San Quentin. I had to turn the TV off then, I just can't handle hearing about stuff like that.
If you've read much of this journal, you'll know my politics tend run conservative, but I'm not easily boxed. I have a hard time picking political candidates to support because they are so narrowly defined - I've yet to cast a vote for a candidate I felt entirely good about, or didn't have some regrets over rejecting the opponent. Capital punishment is one of the areas I'm in stark contrast to most conservatives. To me, it's the most vile and revolting form of premeditated murder there is. A murderer's death does not mitigate the murder, does not deter other potential murderers, and does not save the legal system money. It serves only to satisfy a bestial sense of vengeance that we ought overcome. A murderous butchers like Dahmer and Bundy are hard to get along with and need to be removed from civilized society, but, to me, even their lives have a profound innate worth and shouldn't be snuffed out just to quell the emotional desires of others.
The value of sentient life in the Universe is almost beyond description. Sentient life is an integral part of the Universe, and the only opportunity for the Universe to come to know itself. Sentient life is also exceedingly rare. So far, we have evidence of only one species in the entire Universe capable of very high levels of understanding. Over the last thirty years we've spent about 100 million dollars trying to find other species that might understand and exploit the electromagnetic spectrum as we do, and have found nothing.
Back in 1960 Dr. Frank Drake came up with what is known as the Drake Equation. By taking into account the number of known galaxies, the number of stars within the galaxies and the likelihood of planets that might be able to sustain life around them, he came up with an estimate of how many technologically advanced civilizations should exist in the Universe. The number was 10,000. In 1963, a young Dr. Carl Sagan (one of my personal Heroes!) revisited the Drake equation and revised the likely number of civilizations in the Universe to millions (no, not billions and billions).
Obviously there are patterns to that which is the Universe and things tend toward self-organization. Could a Universe with sentient life in it be any other way? Dr. Sagan believed that his estimate was verified by our own existence. This idea, among many others Sagan's great mind produced, inspired him to write "Contact". What has troubled me, and has even been used as a political argument against funding SETI , is that if we expect there to be such an abundance of technological civilizations in the Universe, why haven't we detected any trace of one yet? Is intelligent life more rare and precious than Drake and Sagan gave it credit for?
Dr. Peter Ward, featured recently in a NY Times article, thinks so. His take on the Drake Equation is that Humanity could very well be alone in the Universe, and that, statistically, even our singular existence was a long shot. Ward maintains that although basic life itself may very well be abundant, highly evolved sentient life is not. He believes the relatively stable conditions that have existed on Earth, allowing the last two billions years of life's evolution to result in us, are unlikely to have been paralleled anywhere else in existence.
Ward places many restraining conditions on the work of Drake and Sagan. For instance, younger galaxies and globular clusters have not had enough supernovas occur in them to produce many of the heavier elements required by complex life. The spectra of the stars in them is the proof that many of life's essential building blocks just aren't there yet. This excludes them from the list of possible places for complex life to evolve. In galaxies similar to our own, the same lack of supernovas, and therefore heavier, elements exists not much further away from the galactic centers as our own solar system is from ours, however, not much closer to the galactic centers there is too much radiation and the stars are too close together to allow planets to form stable orbits long enough for sentient life to evolve.
Another threat to the long process of evolution is asteroid impacts. Having a large planet like Jupiter nearby sweeps our part of the solar system fairly clear of transients like asteroids, but if Jupiter were much closer it would have prevented the formation of Earth by accreting the matter of the Earth to itself. Ward believes the perfect positioning of a gas giant and an iron core planet to minimize cataclysmic collisions with asteroids is rare. The size and solitary state of our Moon is also essential to the development of advanced life. The balance of the Moon's gravity keeps the Earth stable on it's axis, thus preventing the wild and dramatic changes in the climates of the continents that would happen if the poles were not fixed on the geoid.
The continents themselves are yet another factor that Dr. Ward thinks essential for the development of intelligent life. The plate tectonic process on a stable geoid creates oceans and mountains which act as semi-permeable barriers to developing life. They encourage diversity while providing a degree of protection from epidemics or mass extinction. Plate tectonics are only possible on planets with a heavy liquid core and buoyant crust material. If Earth were smaller the center would have cooled and solidified (as the Moon did - something we know as a direct result of Apollo), if the Earth were larger it would have been too hot and volcanism would prevent the development of advanced life.
It would seem all these factors should reduce the balance of the Drake Equation significantly, if not to zero. Dr. Drake, now head of the SETI institute right here in the Bay Area, says not so. He believes that Ward and his colleagues have not taken into account the amazing adaptability of life to different circumstances. I think this is a case where the truth lies somewhere in-between Drake/Sagan and Ward. It would seem to me that millions of civilizations is an over estimate, born out by SETI's lack of immediate results. On the other hand, in the words of Michael Chriton in "Jurassic Park", "life always finds a way". If intelligent life could happen here, I'm skeptical that it hasn't happened some other place in the Universe too.
One night, when I was about 12, I was lying in the back yard watching for the Perseids meteor shower and listening to the music of Jean Michael Jarre on Sony's new Walkman. Carl Sagan had been on TV with that week's installment of "Cosmos" earlier in the evening and had explained his idea that the Universe was well populated. So, while watching the meteors blaze through the multitude of stars, I came up with what I called the "Theory of Everything". It's a nice idea, for a twelve year old. It goes like this:
"If time and space are infinite, and the odds against the most unlikely event possible are infinite, then Everything must be happening all the time." The math is simple enough for a child of twelve. Infinity over infinity equals one. Any event you could imagine must be true in some facet of the Universe, as well as all those you don't imagine!
Since then, I've learned a little more about and cosmology. The Universe no longer seems infinite in the childlike sense of the word. There are likely infinite cycles of time and space running forward and back. There are likely points of infinity at the center of every galaxy which could be the flash point of another universe, and that regression could work the other way too. In spite of this, I think my old Theory of Everything still makes a valid point, even it is not the conclusion I came to before. Modern Physics shows us that all things are interconnected. Matter, energy, space/time are all different states of the same thing. They are quite transmutable into one another and, even as we perceive smooth continuity, they are continually changing states - just like the still frames of a movie creating the illusion of motion. What we perceive is a wave or trend. Because of indeterminacy, infinite possibility over infinite probability is still equal to one. In a very profound way, everything in the Universe is One.
Hmmmm... Now what other journal could start with a TV sitcom, dab into politics, throw in extraterrestrial intelligence, and come out the other end with philosophical statement like that? I may be completely out in left field, but it was fun to write. Wasn't it fun to read and think about? I wonder why I have less than 20 readers. I'm pretty sure I am my own greatest fan. That bites.
Monday March 20th, 2000
Hello! I've been taking a little time off so you haven't heard from me in a while. On Thursday last week I finally realized that I wasn't getting any healthier and had to start on a course of antibiotics to beat the upper respiratory infection that has been plaguing me for two weeks. My lower lungs were starting to hold fluid which could have easily turned into pneumonia. I decided to become inactive for a few days and focus on getting well. I even took Friday off of work and just sat around the house in my PJs all day.
It was kind of nice. I got to read, watch some of my favorite movies, and chat on ICQ with John . While I was watching Apollo 13 on video, Bryan and his boyfriend Matt sent an email saying they were watching me on the web cam. They'd just come in from celebrating St. Patrick's day and were in a great mood. Matt accused me of watching straight porn when one cam frame came up with me watching a naked woman in the shower. (No, don't worry, it's not gonna happen! It was just our Hero, Jim Lovell's, wife in the shower watching her wedding ring fall down the drain, symbolizing her fear of loosing her husband in space). I really enjoyed hearing from Bryan and Matt, it felt kind of like they were just dropping by my apartment for a few minutes. Kinda nice to have some company after spending most of the day alone resting. (It was a work stint for Brent, 3 days X 12 hour shifts so I don't see too much of him during these stints.)
Saturday, I slept in until noon, then lazed about for a while. Around 2:00 I went over to Stuart and Carrie's house for a BBQ to celebrate our friend Kris' birthday. In addition the the birthday celebration we had the satellite TV on watching Speedvision the whole time. They were presenting a live broadcast of the 12 hour sports car endurance race live from Sebring, FL. I stayed away from the beer, thinking that I might get well faster if I didn't drink. The race ended around 7:00 in the evening. (The Audi team won.) After the checkered flag came out, I went home to check on Oreo the Rat and to pack up some things to take to Brent's house for the rest of the weekend.
I got to Brent's house about 8:30, as he was arriving home from work. We snacked and watched TV and turned in early. My coughing was already starting to subside, so I slept better than I had in a while. It was also nice to have someone there who cared about me too.
Sunday morning Brent and I got up for brunch. I had biscuits and gravy, with a hot chocolate and a cup or two of coffee. Then we were off to the movies. We saw "Mission to Mars". The movie was
nice visually, but the story and script were pure formula, without a single original thought. In fact, a lot of ideas and even script lines were blatantly ripped off from other, more worthy, movies. I'm not sure if it was theft or tribute, but I'm inclined to think it was more the former than the latter. In all, it wasn't a bad movie to see at a matinee price. I give it four out of ten stars. Three of the stars were earned by the visual effects and one star on account of the fact that it's got Jerry O'Connell in a supporting role - Brent and I have both kinda had a thing for him for a long time! *sheepish grin*
After the movie, Brent had a lot of homework to do. I sat around and watched Dr. Who in the "The Face of Evil". Tom Baker is far and away my favorite Dr. and I haven't seen one of his episodes in a long while. Brent was nearby, in his study. It was nice to be doing my own thing, but knowing he wasn't far. Most of the time when we're together, we're interacting in some way. I enjoyed the less intense company as a change of pace. When his homework was done, we went to dinner together, then spent the evening reading and watching "DS9" and "Earth: Final Conflict."
Today, my coughing fits are minimal. I'm really on the mend, and back at work. I took Friday off of work because of my bronchitis and incipient pneumonia, but there was another reason. Prof Chiu, my boss, found out that he'd been paying me more than he thought he was for the last few months due to an administrative error. I thought it was a raise, which in my opinion was a year overdue anyway. He's mad at me for not telling him about the error, or at least thanking him for the overdue raise and bringing the error to his attention that way. Since the error was not mine the rules do not allow him to bill me for the overpayment, but he is taking action to reduce my pay again. I also found out that he initiated an investigation to see if I deliberately wrote the pay raise into my new work agreement against his wishes. I'm insulted both by the fact that he'd try to stick it to me like that, and by the fact that he doesn't think I'm worth the raise now that I think I should have had in 1998. That alone was impetus for me to take my sick day Friday. I would rather use the sick day while being paid more for it, than less. Additionally, if he's going to pay me like a 9-5 filing clerk, than I'm not going to give him the work of an IT professional. When I'm sick, or the clock says 5:00 pm, I'm outa there and I don't care what's working or not anymore.
Obviously, I can't carry on this way. I've got more self respect than to work in an unprofessional manner like that for long. But I'm not going to give Prof. Chiu what he's not going to pay me for. I'm going to need a new job much sooner than I'd anticipated. This, of course, brings the Seattle problem to the fore. If it weren't for Brent, I'd be sending my applications in to Seattle companies right now and packing my stuff while waiting to hear back from them. As it is, I think I'm going to have to try to find something here, at least for a little while longer. I just couldn't bear making Brent feel lonely and sad because I'd moved away. In order to bail out from the lab ASAP, I'm going to look around here for work. I might investigate Seattle a little more and if I get offered a dream job for lotsa cash, I could still end up moving there. But, a local job for another nine months to a year wouldn't be so bad. Monterey is a wonderful place, even if it is socially barren of young people and full of bigots. I can wait a little longer to avoid ruining my boyfriend's life.
Thursday March 23rd, 2000
I kind of miss Brent. I haven't seen him since Monday. His work schedule has him working most of this week either from 7:00 am to 7:00 pm or from 9:00 am to 9:00 pm. I've had evening engagements the last two days and it just hasn't been practical for either of us to drive the 30 minutes to each other's house. Tuesday our schedules conflicted so much that we couldn't even call each other on the phone at the same time.
I've gone much longer periods without seeing or talking to Brent. When I do ski trips we don't see each other for two days, and when I got out to sea it can be more than a week without talking. But when I'm doing those things, I'm away from home and in an intense environment which Brent has never been a part of. I think about him sometimes, but I'm usually too busy to feel a real emotional pull or sense of loss. This time, I'm home and we're just busy with conflicting schedules so I miss him more. It was really nice to hear his voice on the phone for a few minutes last night. It felt reassuring and grounding.
So, what have I been doing? Well, I've been trying to keep a lot of other relationships going. I think it's important not to let a romantic relationship occur to the exclusion of all other relationships. On Tuesday night I went to dinner and the symphony with my parents and a family friend. It was a really nice time. It was especially nice to have my Mom in a good mood. I haven't seen her in a few weeks, so her first words to me were about my sideburns which I've grown out - "Sideburns! Too long! You look like you're trying to be... different!" I had to smile at that, and the fact that she did too was kind of nice. Over the last few years a comment about my appearance like that would have been real criticism with some anger mixed in. It was really great to be able to deal with my parents from a warm, positive perspective.
The symphony concert was OK. The first piece was the overture from an opera and was fun to hear. The second piece was a symphony by Shostakovich and was terrible. It sounded like the clashing background music of a cartoon. It was written in the 1920's when atonal music with lots of weird percussion was fashionable. After the intermission, an Irish piano soloist came out to perform Brahm's Second Piano Concerto. This was the highlight of the night. The music was moving and gorgeous in places. At one point it was just the piano with a single flute playing a third over a single oboe. Perfect! I play piano well enough to fully appreciate the miracle of human achievement that the soloist was pulling off right before my eyes. He played 30 minutes of precise, technical, and dramatic music without a single page of music in front of him. His connection to the piano wasn't mechanical, it wasn't an act of conscious will that put each finger on a key. The soloist's mind was soaring over the music as a complete concept, not just notes laid out by a long dead composer. He played it all, exactly as written more than a hundred years ago, but the way he evoked the correct sounds from the instrument was spiritual, Zen-like. His mind projected the music to the audience, using the piano quite literally as an instrument to manifest his conceptualization of the music.
Last night, after work, I joined some of the Senior Tour Guides for a beer to essentially resign from the Ski Program for the remainder of the season. I'm much healthier now, thanks to the wonders of anti-biotics, but I want the coming weekend off because after it follows five out of six weekends working at racing events. Six weeks is a long time to go without a single day off and I'd like to be at full strength entering into it. So, I won't be skiing anymore this season. I'll also drastically cut back the time I spend working at the ski shop. That time is already being filled by organizing the upcoming race events.
After meeting with the Guides, I left to join my friend Aric for dinner. He's been going to school at CalPoly and hasn't been around in a long time. He was home for a week of Spring Break, but only had last night available to spend some time with me. We had a nice dinner and then played video games until late in the evening. I'm thinking of taking Aric with me when I attempt to climb Mt. Shasta this summer. He hiked up Lassen Peak with me more than a year ago and has the fitness and camping skills needed for a wilderness trip, but he has no experience on steep snow with crampons and an ice axe. That might make Shasta a bit daunting for him, but I think if I can teach him self arrest and how to use the gear properly he'll be a good partner.
This weekend is the second Formula One race of the year, the Grand Prix of Brazil! I can't wait! The Ferrari team seems to have a very good car this year, perhaps better than the McLaren/Mercedes and Williams/BMWs. Ferrari unquestionably has the best driver in German Micheal Schumacher. But this weekend I'm rooting for Ferrari's other driver, Ruebens Barrichello, of Brazil. It would be really neat to see him win his first Grand Prix at his home track in Sao Paulo. He came in second two weeks ago at the Grand Prix of Australia, so I have faith the extra motivation of racing before his countrymen will propel him on to victory.
Friday March 24th, 2000
It's Friday! Yay! And it's a Grand Prix Weekend too. What could be better? Well, where shall I begin? I've got the weekend off, as in I'm not working for anyone else this weekend, but I've got a lot of chores to get done. The Grand Prix and perhaps going for a day hike will be the fun events of the weekend during the day. I'll prolly spend some time with friends tonight too. Julie wants to meet Brent for approval purposes!
One of my biggest priorities is to get some spring cleaning done. For me, that means going through my closet and dresser to remove anything that I haven't worn in the last year, or don't think I'll wear in the next. It all goes to Goodwill. I do the same thing with a pile of paperback novels that seems to accumulate in the course of a revolution of the Sun. (I'll keep my copies of the Harold-Mage Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey - just too good to give away.
I like to go through all my stuff every year and get rid of what's no longer valuable to me. Clutter and the slow accumulation of material things seem to become like shackles to the Earth and prevent my spirit from soaring. Oh, readers, I know you probably don't get that, but I really try to keep the stuff around me restricted to stuff that helps me achieve. Just because I once liked a shirt or a piece of software before doesn't mean it's relevant now. Anything that isn't of real value to me is just dead weight dragging me down. It's all got to go.
Do you get it yet? I'm not turning into a monk and disavowing the material world. I don't think material things are evil. I am materialist. I am brand loyal. Heck, I spend half my monthly paycheck paying for and keeping up a BMW because I love the machine. I've spent several thousand dollars over the past few years buying the very best mountaineering clothing and equipment - more than half of it is made by Mountain Hardwear. It's expensive, but does the job that I need it to do better than anything else money can buy. But the minute all that expensive gear no longer serves me any useful purpose - it's gone. I'll give it away to someone it has value to.
To me, these things are around to do a job. They don't represent anything else beyond that. I don't feel a need to possess things. Our culture is so oriented around possessing. I think it comes mostly from all the commercial speech that enters our everyday lives - signs, TV and radio adds, product placement in movies - it's very invasive. The pressure to buy and to have things is very strong, but do we really need Chia Pets and Salad Shooters? I'm going to spend a fair amount of time freeing myself from the year's accumulation this weekend.
Also on the list for this weekend are some more mundane tasks like washing my car (I actually like that one), doing laundry (I *hate* folding), paying bills (no comment necessary), and cleaning Oreo's cage.
I'll prolly be spending a fair amount of time working on My Back Pages too, and the webcam will be up good bit. Did anyone notice the new Back Pages People page? It needs a few more additions, and one link is wrong, but it's the page is up. There is one glaring exception on it - Brent. I'm not sure what to say about my boyfriend that hasn't been better said in the daily pages of my journal. He doesn't like his picture either, so I've got to come up with a substitute for that too. I think I've got something in mind...
And with that, it's time to get on with the weekend!
Sunday March 26th, 2000
The last weekend of the first month of spring has passed, the events transpiring in my life were about what I expected, with a few minor changes. I don't usually get a lot of phone calls other than Brent and telemarketers. Friday night was the exception. I got home from dinner and beer with the ski guides about 8:00 pm. My Mom called me from San Diego where she and my Dad are vacationing. She said my brother, who lives at home with my parents, was feeling pretty sick and would I check in on him? I was happy to do so, besides it coincided with my plan to wash my car at their house Saturday.
Shortly after talking to my Mom, my good friend Wade from Seattle called. He's preparing to go on a business trip to the Netherlands and won't be back in Seattle until May. He just wanted to chat a while, and encouraged me to move up to Seattle. He thinks that my relationship with Brent could survive and even benefit from the separation, and that the longer I stay here the more likely I am to languish away. I love Wade very much and honor his opinions. He gave me a lot to think about.
I logged on to my ISP after talking with Wade, thinking I'd check e mail. Another Seattle friend, Mickey, was on ICQ. I have been trying to catch up with him for a while, so I suggested we just get off the computer and I'd call him. I did, and we ended up chatting until well-nigh four am! I don't have a lot of good, long, conversations like that much anymore and thoroughly enjoyed it. Incidentally, Mickey's thoughts about me moving to Seattle were in perfect alignment with Wade's. Seattle was definitely reaching out to me this weekend.
I didn't bother getting up until Noon on Saturday after a late evening on the phone. It felt great to have a no-pressure weekend on which I could do that if my body chose to - time off weekends don't happen much in my life. I got up, put away the futon, and chatted on ICQ a while with John who was on line from his house in Spokane. He sent me an amusing animated cartoon about the President's libido problems and we chatted about how his date went on Friday. (John's date, that is, not the President's.) After chatting a while, John had to go and I needed to shower and get on with the day, since it was approaching 2:00 pm. After my shower I went out in to the living room in my boxers to get some coffee, about the same time that the webcam expired. Me in my boxer shorts ended up being the shot that stayed on the cam server for the next several hours while I was out. Bryan came on line during the day and saw the cam pic of me parading around half nude and went bonkers. *vbg* Mickey complimented me the night before about how I could still get young college guys excited about my body while I'm starting to push the ragged edge between youth and middle age. I think Bry just likes to tease me about it. I can only imagine what dreadful things he might do on his website with the screenshot of me he captured. Oh dear... *rolls eyes*...
The bulk of Saturday I spent washing my car. I'm very particular about my car and it takes a while to get it just so. I finished not too long after dark. I decided to rent a couple of videos for my brother and watched one with him before going home. My brother seemed to be feeling somewhat better by the end of the evening, but was ready for some rest. I was starting to feel very energetic and upbeat. I decided to listen to some music on my stereo. It was already 11:00 pm, so I used headphones to avoid keeping my upstairs neighbor awake, but I might have ended up subjecting her to the worse torture of my singing voice without the benefit of accompaniment! I played DJ, picking individual songs off a bunch of my CDs and mixing them to my own amusement. I was a great time, bouncin' around the apartment, totally loving the music, and dancin' like nobody was watching! (To borrow a quote from Benn.)
Sunday I got up fairly early - no hangover from my private party! - to watch the Grand Prix of Brazil at my friend's Stuart and Carrie's house. Stu was away working on the pit crew at a race, so it was just
Carrie, baby Stirling, and I watching. We had breakfast, drank coffee, and cheered on the BMWs, Ferraris, McLarens, Jaguars, and all the others. Sadly, my favorite for the race, Brazilian Ferrari driver Reubens Barrichello, suffered a mechanical problem and dropped out of the race from second place. His teamate, German Micheal Schumacher, went on to win.
The bulk of Sunday I spent at home starting on my Spring cleaning. Oreo's cage got cleaned out first, then I went to work on my desk. I threw out pounds and pounds of old paperwork, and filed the records that were essential in a logical order. I also went through an old electronics drawer and threw out a bunch of stuff that used to be cool and is now just junk. For the coming week I have on my list to attack my clothes closet and bathroom cabinet. Everything must go!
The weekend ended on a pleasant, relaxing note. Around 7:00 pm on Sunday I drove the half hour it takes to get to Brent's house, stopping at the store on the way there. I bought some fresh raviolis and marinara sauce (to which I later added a fresh chopped tomato) and a bagged salad. By the time Brent came home from work at 8:30 his dinner was ready! I just love surprising Brent like that during his work stints. He doesn't always expect to see me then - he only has about two hours a day at home that he's not sleeping when working his 12 hour shift cycle combined with the 1 hour drive each way from the hospital. We had dinner together, snuggled on the couch watching TV, and turned in by 10:30 pm. What a great way to round out a productive weekend at home. If only the darn cat didn't insist on running around all over the bed (and it's occupants) all night long!
Tuesday March 28th, 2000
I had a difficult time accepting my sexual orientation. I was aware of it at a young age, but kept it deeply hidden and unexpressed until my secret nearly consumed me. Not being gay was destroying my life more completely than being gay ever could have. It was that singular realization that got me to come out and it is why I encourage others to come out as soon and young as possible. As I develop my WayBack Pages, you'll be able to read my complete and sordid story of growing up in the closet.
Every gay person denies and accepts their gay identity for differing but often similar reasons. We each have a unique set of circumstances in our lives, and strengths in our personalities that make us solve our common problem in different ways. Some of us arrive at the wrong solution and commit suicide. Even I arrived at that solution for a time, but then I realized that it was an emotional illusion, not a valid solution. I managed to dismiss it no matter how much comfort and satisfaction the illusion appeared to offer. Others of us find better solutions early on and have fun taking a same-sex date to the prom. Each person's approach is different, but we're all looking for the same result - a happy and fulfilling life.
In this day and age-group it's taken for granted that we humans are supposed to strive for and expect happy and fulfilling lives. I don't think that's always been the case. Did anyone expect an African slave in the Confederacy to be happy? How many medieval serfs' lives were dedicated to self actualization? Who made sure that Inca warriors' felt satisfied in life before they were sent off to die for the emperor? I think it is a special moment in history, right now, that the common man has even the opportunity to try to achieve fulfillment and happiness in life.
Fulfillment and happiness are not necessarily easy to achieve, nor even to recognize. Especially for us gay guys in Gen X, as our needs and concerns are different than those of most of the people around us. They are one of those "I can't define it, but I know it when I see it" ideas.
In the East, Buddhist monks spend lifetimes working to free their minds of the material and achieve the spiritual bliss of Nirvana. Despite all their dedication and study, they still can't quite define Nirvana for us. To do so would require material ideas, words, which would inherently distort the true experience of Nirvana. No, fulfillment on this level is not for the amateur pleasure seeker of the West. Unless we're prepared to spend a lifetime in meditation on a Himalayan mountaintop, we must look somewhere else for our happiness.
My observations among my peers is that our happiness is rooted in the physical world. We are looking for distractions from our mortal fear. We distract ourselves with lots of things - TV, booze and drugs, good food, adventures, religious faith, and people. Especially with people, for we are social beings. We need the comfort of others. We value those who value us, those who validate our existence and keep the mortal fear at bay. Sexual intimacy with another provides the ultimate distraction - love and Eros. The human mind is predisposed to ignore its own temporary status, it takes little to distract it, and so I think that happiness in modern Western life depends on the quality of the distractions from mortal fear which we provide ourselves with.
The more effort and knowledge that we put into our lives, the more happiness and pleasure we can experience. For instance, it's easy to get a few minutes of simple distraction by watching someone win a million dollar trivia game on TV. It requires more effort in terms of cultural education to enjoy a Steven Sondheim musical, but there are much deeper pleasures to be mined from it than from a TV game show. For us gay guys, it doesn't take much effort to remove a shirt at a club and wiggle around until some cute guy wants to take us home. We'll probably have a fun and thrilling night or two, but we won't have accomplished even a hundredth of the joy of an ongoing romantic relationship with a true boyfriend.
The capacity to experience happiness must be developed from within, happiness is not an external force. Just as the Eastern mystic dedicates his life to achieving Nirvana, so should we Westerners dedicate our lives to achieving our fulfillment. We must invest in ourselves, in our education and emotional development. We must think about how we perceive the world, how we interpret our senses, and how we use our minds and our bodies. We must develop our capacity to love and to appreciate beauty. We must pursue our own goals of achievement. It is when people of our age and culture focus on these things that they begin to find their lives more meaningful and fulfilling. This is the roadmap that the lost generation of the post-babyboom era needs to find its destiny.
We should focus our attention on whatever aspects of life that we choose to explore and achieve in. For a unique moment in the history of humanity, we may make an individual choice about the creative goals of our lives! What a wonderful freedom that is. But we must act, and we must choose to develop our creative minds in some defined direction or else be left adrift and unable to find deeper happiness than easy distractions from mortal fear. Steady work, a few friends, and a guy to sleep with aren't valid goals in this generation. They are merely the happy consequences of striving to live a life of creative achievement.
Friday March 31st, 2000
Since I last wrote here it's been one of those busy weeks, not a moment to spare, at the end of which you don't feel like you've accomplished much. I feel frustrated, rushed, and yet not very productive. Let me back track a little, as I'm wont to do so often on these pages...
Monday I was going to meet Brent for dinner when he came home from work at 9:00 p.m. During the day, I got a message from my friend James, who's in the military and deeply closeted although he's dating a guy right now. He sounded in distress and needed a friend, so I dropped everything and planned to make him dinner at my house so he would be free to talk. He never showed up. No email, no phone call, no James. I was pissed that he had so little appreciation for the value of my time and what I was trying to offer him - way too pissed to call him to find out where the hell he was. I ended up spending the evening writing letters and web surfing.
Tuesday, I found out in an email from James that he had been told by his butthead boyfriend that he couldn't have dinner with me because butthead thought that James would cheat on him with me. I don't think so! Anyways, it seems one of the issues James wanted to talk about with me was that butthead was very controling. Well, go figure! I'll try to make time for James again later on, because someone needs to help that boy get a grip.
Brent was working until 9:00 p.m. again on Tuesday night, so I made plans to watch a videotaped Indy Car race from Sunday with my friend Brian. He's one of the very few gay motorsports enthusiasts I know. He's a bit older than me, and he and his partner, also Brian, have been kind of like mentors to me. They were the very first real live gay people I ever met, five years ago now.
Wednesday I got a shocker at work. I was told that the sysadmin side of my job was now over and it's time to decide if I'm going to stay with the lab and become an Oceanographer, or move on somewhere else. They made me a generous offer to keep working at full pay while taking classes on campus to get a free Master's Degree in Oceanography. The problem is, ocean acoustics and data processing and analysis have always bored me to tears. I'm being given a wonderful opportunity worth tens of thousands of dollars and I don't think I'm going to take it. I feel guilty for all the struggling Oceanography students out there that really care about this science and will never be granted such opportunities. I'll have to think about it some more, but studying sound travel in the ocean just doesn't seem like what I want to do with the rest of my career.
That begs the question "what do you want to be when you grow up?". Well, hell if I know. Another real problem with that is I'm too old to be making decisions like this. I should have settled on a career long ago, but I've just never been able to bust into a field I wanted to be in. Astronautics and race management are very tight fields. Computer administration is OK, but it's not a passion. Just something I do for money. There are a lot of other people out there for whom computers are a passion and they can kick my butt in terms of their systems administration skills because they care about it so much. That's going to make it difficult for me to excell at another job opportunity, although with the computer economy booming, I can probably get a descent job at it anyways. I just won't be the best at it. *sigh*
It occurs to me, with the time that I put in on this website, and with all the other things that I like writing for, maybe I should work on being a writer. I wonder how you get into that field? I love writing! I can't spell worth a damn, but I can usually get my ideas across. Maybe I could start working on a Master's in Journalism or such while providing computer support with a company somewhere.
Last night, after work and writing a few letters, I went to see Brent who finished his work at 8:30 p.m. We had dinner together and watched a little TV before going to bed early. That brings me back to today, where I've been busy working at my dead-end job. At least after work I'm going over to the pub to have some beers with Julie and Mark. The weather here is gorgeous today, so we'll prolly sit outside in the garden to quaff our beers.
Tomorrow, the race season gets underway for me in a personal way. I won't just be watching the new F-1 season from around the world on TV. I'll be paid to work my first race of the new season at Laguna Seca. This weekend its a group of classic race cars from the 50s, 60s, and 70s in competition just for fun. It's great to hear the old engines and see the classic cars from old films of places like Le Mans and Monte Carlo come to life right before your eyes! I'll either be up in the Starter's stand waving the green and checkered flags, or in race control coordinating all the on-track activities. Race control is a job sort of like the job Ed Harris had in the movie Apollo 13. It's one of my favorite jobs at the track. In fact, driving a race car is about the only thing more fun than being responsible for the safety and oversight of it all.