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Posts Tagged ‘job’

What do I want?  It’s a harder question to answer than it seems, even without bringing up the “unknowable longing.”  I love music, especially baroque, sacred and choral.  I love boys; their company, voices, image.  What the heck am I going to do with my life?  I’m tired of not knowing where I’m going.  I don’t want to worry about how my next meal or the electric bill will be paid.  But neither do I want to be chained to a desk working 40+ hours a week.  I need flexibility.

I’m listening to a recording of an English Cathedral choir.  In my initial long term plan I stated that I was going to England to sing in one, but the problems are this: The political situation with being a foreigner in England is not looking good right now, they are even more intolerant of boylovers (at least on paper) than the US, I don’t know that I could stand to be tied down to singing a service every day much more than working 9-5.

It really is a while lot of “I don’t know.”  There must be a way to shape a life I can love.  What part of myself must I sacrifice?  (I have far from recorded all the directions I’d like my life to go here.  There are far too many.)  Music and boys will always be at the top of my list of loves, and their combination would seem like the perfect solution, but I really think perhaps not.  As much as I love singing boys, singing in a choir with them probably wouldn’t fulfill me.  (It doesn’t right now, though it is pleasant, but I can’t know it wouldn’t if I were in one of the caliber of Kings or Westminster.)  It lacks the personal element.  I ‘m not content to adore from afar for ever.  I think…I think I need to have a career singing the music I love most — early — with maybe a little musical leadership thrown in and also cultivate personal relationships with boys.  That sounds…like a give up answer.  I still have no clue how to fully support myself, nor cultivate those personal relationships.  Do I spend the money and go back to school?  I can’t really afford to.

I DON’T KNOW!

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Today I watched Jet Li’s Fearless.  I think it was a very good movie.  The acting was not to western taste, meaning it wasn’t naturalist, but the story told was a good and interesting one and it was well told.

While on my cruise I laid out a plan of action if you will remember.  Upon returning from the cruise I set about following it, but have since become lax.  I need to recommit myself to it, even if I change the goals.  I think the uneasy feeling I’ve been having is related to once again lacking direction and purpose.  So, here i go again, outlining what I hope to do and accomplish.

-Become a mentor.  Really nothing I can do but wait on this one.
-Contact Virtuoso to encourage his Venus and Adonis project.  Even unpaid, I need to get back into music for the love of it.
-Reduce my spending, increase my responsibility, both financial and personal.
-Find a job to replace the Restaurant that doesn’t subvert my soul.

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Well, such momentum couldn’t last forever without effort.  It’s been hard for me to come to this blog recently.  I’ve had things to write, but I just didn’t feel like writing them.  Yet again, however, I am determined not to let this endevor fail.  I will continue this blog.

Part of the problem is the video games.  Another part is the depression I’m starting to feel.  It’s just a cycle, and this should be a relatively mild one considering things are going well in my life.

I’ve quit my job (Tuesday is my last shift), I like my new job, I’m supposedly going to be mentoring a boy, and I’ve been seeing a lot of my friends.

The other problem is that I’m reading again.  How does Stephen King do it?  In On Writing he recommends writing and reading every day, but how?  If I like what I’m reading, then that story consumes me.  I just can’t…  I can, but it’s difficult to write even a journal when I’m reading a book.  (Dark Tower III.  I love Jake Chambers!)

While time with friends is great, I wonder if it contributes to my depression as well as softening it.  Every time I’m with The Boys or My Friend On The Facebook, I kind of want to tell them my secret.  But I know how they feel about pedophiles.  Obviously the idea is that I could change their minds, since they would have to reconcile their friendship with me, a known individual, with their hatred of a faceless demographic.  But while they could (and I think would) choose me, the possibilities exist that they’d do the opposite, or fail to make a decision at all and just reject that part of me.  Not all my friends will react the way The King did.  I was fortunate that he already suspected the answer and had, for the most part, come to accept it.  He still had (and has) questions, but they don’t have a bearing in his acceptance of who I am.

I think I need to at least tell My Friend On The Facebook.  For friendship to truly grow, there must be truth.

Maybe Jess too.

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I should be in bed, sleeping.  Instead I’m writing this.  I’m going to regret it…

Today at work the cute tray taker was back again.  For goodness sake, I can’t seem to let it rest with this boy, can I?  I don’t really know what it is about this boy that enchants me, but he does.  He’s not even beautiful.  I mean, not in the sense that boy models are, or that ordinary boys are.  In fact, in some ways (I hate to say this) he’s ugly.  That would undoubtedly be Boy Wonder’s opinion.  He’d say, “Wow!  That kid is a tragedy,” because he is over dramatic like that and exaggerates like mad.  Then I’d say, “no he’s not.  He has his own beauty, it just isn’t conventional.”  Except I wouldn’t because I wouldn’t be caught dead saying that about a boy IRL.

But despite all the traits that offend conventional beauty, he does have a unique alure to me.  He seems so incredibly…sexual.  Every time I walk by him I have to restrain myself from reaching out and touching him.

And adding to the strangeness of his attractiveness is his age.  He cannot legally be younger than fourteen.  And while fourteen is the upper boundary for my “age of attraction” he is not prepubescent.  His voice is unchanged, as I mentioned before, along with the fact that it is gorgeous, but he is clearly in the process of maturing, and not that far behind the average.

Perhaps he gives off a type of pheromone that I’m particularly responsive to.  ;)

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Fool that I am

I feel like I’ve been remiss in my duties having gone through so much and written none of it down.

On Friday I indeed called in sick for work.  Unfortunately, my manager called me back and begged me to come in anyway.  And fool that I am, I said yes.  So I worked myself ragged, thus leading to my health problems.  I was very angry at the manager and at myself for that whole thing.  I vowed I will now always request off the whole day when I have something in the evening.  But stupid me, I just agreed to pick up an extra shift tomorrow and i have rehearsal at church that night.  So obviously my vows mean nothing.

My head still isn’t clear.  Being sick sucks.  I had my interview for the mentoring organization yesterday.  I’m really not sure how it went.  But I can do nothing until I hear, so I may as well not worry.  Hope, but largely not think about it.

Shower.

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I called off from work tomorrow.  They’re not going to be happy about that, but I must get better.  My voice is almost completely gone and I have a rehearsal tomorrow, a concert the day after, and then a service, another concert, and a singing-social event on Sunday.  I can’t take chances.

I remembered something as I walked back from my car the second time tonight.  (I left my phone.  Again.)  It’s raining.  Two days ago I called Jess and left a message about the melancholy feeling I get when it rains.  That elusive want isn’t the need to be needed that I talked about before.  I apparently have two unknowable longings.  This second one is more nostalgia than the other, I think, but not completely.

What I remembered was sitting on the front stoop of my house when I was a child (think 7-9, or maybe more like 6-8) with an umbrella propped against the wall, huddled underneath it in the rain.  I was making a tent for myself and enjoying the gloomy weather.  I’m fairly certain that the feeling I feel now when it rains is the same basic emotion I felt playing then.  This is significant because it proves my assumption about the rain-feeling’s origins wrong.  If I felt the same feeling that young, then it can’t be nostalgia for some forgotten adolescent event associated with rain.  It likely has nothing to do with boys.  I think I’d just come to assume it did because a) common layman’s understanding of psychology leads us to assume that all things stem from sexuality and our parents and b) boys are generally the only thing that can get that deep and strong an emotional response out of me.

But maybe it still is about boys in some way.  First, the feeling can’t be exactly the same now as it was then.  I’ve matured and evolved and had new experiences that have added to my associations with rain.  And I certainly experienced a lot of rain and tents with boys in boy scouts.

Or we could consider the possibility of an early sign of my sexuality.  (A dangerous and often misleading course of action, I have come to believe.)  I’m sure I ran fantasies of children caught out in the elements, despondent, needing rescue.  I think I remember thinking of that, playing that “game” with me as the distressed child.  (I remember being particularly fascinated with stories like Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Match-Seller.)  I don’t recall that leading to rescue fantasy.  Only the helpless situation.  Only when I was old enough to cast myself in the role of rescuer did my fantasies take on that element, I believe.  But I’ve been fantasizing that general situation my whole life.

And I think this fantasy is likely familiar for most boylovers.  It goes back to the need to be needed thing.  We fantasize about children and distress not because it’s attractive, but because it creates a need for the rescuer.

Perhaps that very fantasy – which is often featured in BL fiction – could be the root of what makes some pedophiles turn violent towards children.  The fantasy has an undeniably dark aspect.  It isn’t inconceivable that a young man experimenting in his mind with the rescue scenario could become fixated on the first half to the exclusion of the rescue portion.  Especially if he pays too much attention to the opinion of society at large that people who feel sexual attraction to children are monsters by “virtue” of their attraction only, and not their actions.  If he obsesses too much on the fantasy child’s distress it could eventually become attractive to him.  Especially if he comes to embrace that self-loathing that viewing yourself as a monster leads to.  Young men often try to live up to expectations.

Coming from someone as inexpert as myself, this may all be a load of bollocks.

In any case, the rain makes me feel melancholy in a sweet way that I want to nurture, while making me long for something unknown and lost.

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Tomorrow is the new year.  For some reason, for the first time ever, the prospect of the new year excites me.  It’s not that I have dreaded the future before, nor that I’m eager for this year to be over.  I just never before saw any significance to the changing of a number at the tob of the calendar.  Regardless of the reasons theologically and scientifically for what the number is and when it changes, from a human perspective, it’s completely arbitrary.  Dec. 31 2008 is no diferent from Jan 1 2009.  If you lived in a cave in the middle of nowhere without a calendar, you wouldn’t notice anything changing between those two days.

But this year I’m looking forward to it.  Perhaps because of all I’m planning.  Even when I was in college, I had no plan beyond being in college.  Now I’m working towards a goal.  Even if that goal changes.  I may not take myself to England soon (on a permanent basis, anyway) for the sake of the new relationships I’m hoping to form here, but I still plan to get new computer training, advance my career, and form a deep relationship with a boy.  These are good plans, and I can only do so much to fulfill them on this side of the divide, and so I’m eager for the new year.

But that’s not why I started this entry.  It’s probably better than what follows, but…shrug.

Yesterday the cute tray taker was back.  I walked by his station several times (of course) and a few times I caught the sound of his voice.

It’s lovely.  I wrote before that it was unchanged, but I was struck yesterday more strongly by its sound for some reasons.  Every time I heard it my chest got tight, and I had the urge to close my eyes and just listen.  Very musical.  I think it all the time of other people, but he sould be a singer.  Not that he has much time left unless he’s like my two friends from back home who’s voices simply never changed during puberty.

Yesterday I was offered an extra shift.  As I was folding napkins, the scheduling manager came up to look at the schedule on the wall, seeking some people to take a last ninute shift.  She asked if I could, but I couldn’t.  Actually, I could have, I just didn’t want to.  But later that night I picked up a gig that would have conflicted anyway, so it’s a good thing I said no.  $250 for this concert.  (Tomorrow)

After I told her I couldn’t do it, she mentioned that she didn’t want to just post the shift for anybody to take, since the event was for a personal friend of the owner and she wanted to pick good people to work it.

So apparently, she trusts me.  Consideres me one o fthe better servers.  I’d been starting to suspect that anyway since she schedules me so often and is unhappy when I request off, and just generally the way the management acts toward me.  But it’s nice to have it a little more confirmed.

The thing is, I don’t like this job, as I have made clear.  Not only that, but I don’t feel particularly good at it.  I’m often among the last servers to get tables clear, I wander around before and after events, not really sure of what I’m supposed to be doing.  I’m glad they think I’m good at it (and maybe I am and my standards are just higher than theirs) since I hope to get a positive work refference from them when I quit in the very near future.

I’m done.

Seeing Sissy tonight before rehearsal.

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