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Posts Tagged ‘work’

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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When I get home from work today: 1st all laundry put away and towels into the wash.  2nd apply to at least one job.  3rd watch Blood Diamond.  4th finish dishes.


“When I get home from work.”  Ha!  I went outside and there was snow five inches deep on my car.  That and very slippery roads.  I called The Citadel.  The parking lot is buried.  The last time I tried to get to church in this kind of weather I spun out on the onramp to the interstate and had to spend an hour digging myself back out of the parking lot.  No work today.

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Pizza

Pizza.  I love pizza.  This is a problem, because recently I have been eating it for either lunch or dinner about five times a week.  I had it yesterday, the day before, one of the two days before that…  Not only are Papa John’s and the mom + pop around the corner making a fortune off me, but I overeat every time.  A few things are causing this situation.  A) I quit my job at the Restaurant and thus am not being fed for free at work.  B) I used to work at the Restaurant and thus became accustomed to not needing to provide food for msyelf.  C) I haven’t gone grocery shopping since I quit and have no food in the house.  Tomorrow!  After work!  Go shopping!

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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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I foolishly left my journal at home yesterday.  Well, not so much foolishly as forgetfully.  I meant to bring it, knowing I was working a double.  In actuality, though, I worked a tripple.  The AM shift had two banquets overlapping.

Anyway, The Restaurant seems to have hired a pair of children.  (I assume they are 14.)  The one is about 5’8″, red headed, changed voice, and slightly overweight.  The other, on the other hand, is 5’6″ (still tall for my usual taste), brown haired, skinny, unchanged voice, and has a very cute face.  And beautiful skin.  Quite attractive.  They were stationed by the dish washer to clear a la carte servers’ trays.

Also that day, in my second room, there was a boy probably about nine years old who looked a lot like a slightly younger version of the boy in the JCPenny’s comercials on Hulu.  (The Ice/Nice one.)  Every time I walked out of the kitchen, or carried a tray toward it, he would watch me openly.  He probably watched all the servers as they did their jobs, since the impression I got from him was one of strong curiosity.  He was very cute.  It seems to me that he was watching to see how the job worked.  Where we went, who was where, what we were bringing in/carrying out.

He’s not the first boy to watch me so closely while I waited tables.  Many weeks ago, near my beginning but after my training, there was a wedding when I had my tray stand right next to a boy I took to be around 10.  He also openly watched my every move.  I spent the whole time hoping he ‘d ask me questions.  He never did, of course.

With the dish boy in the kitchen and the JCP boy in the dining room, I noticed that I worked harder, more diligently.  I moved with greater purpose, made sure to smile, follow procedure, do everything with greater efficiency.  It’s something I’ve thought of before, and even considered writing about but never did, in part because I never had this tool –  the journal – that is so welcoming to such observations.

The observation being: boys inspire me.  I mean, really.  They have shaped me since I started noticing them.  While being a pedophile/boylover in an intollerant society has shaped me in various ways – some positive, some negative – the boys themselves have only ever been positive influences.

So many pivotal moments can be dated to when I was 13.  Christmas when I was 13 I discovered (rediscovered) my great-uncle’s colection of English men and boys choirs Christmas carol albums.  Those recordings inspired more interest in the other classical LPs in the basement.  I was drawn to them because of the boys’ voices, but in listening raptly I learned to love the music and the genre as well.  I’d always had an interest in classical music, but that’s when it became a passion.  In those other LPs I discovered Mozart, and then as my ears matured, Bach and Beethoven.

I bought from Boarders two CDs of boy music, also when I was 13 I think.  A compilation recording of Westminster Cathedral Choir and a Vienna Boys’ Choir CD featuring mostly solos by an also 13yo Max Emanuel Cencic.  The Cencic CD I loved, with its Handel, Mozart, Schubert and Strauss.  At first I didn’t like all the 20th century stuff on the Westminster CD, but again the voices inspired me to grow.  It eventually became my favorite CD.

A leadership position got me over my first hump in Boy Scouts (13 yo), but it was the boys (Candy, Orange Hat, Owl, CIA, N, Casper, Little Man, Fox, and finally The Beloved) that got me over the second, so I stayed to and beyond Eagle Scout.

Boys are the reason I joined the Citadel, and that has been an excellent post to have for many reasons.

I’m sure there are many more examples, but now I must eat, shave, change and go to work, yet again.

*I found some pages of skit scripts I wrote for skit night at music camp.  Kinda funny.  I was 14 when I wrote them, I think.  I had horrible handwriting.

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I had a few things I wanted to write about today.  Let’s see if I can remember them all.

I turned on the heat today.  I didn’t even need to, and that sucks.  I turned it on to keep the house above 60 degrees while I cleaned.  Then I didn’t clean.  Waste of fuel, waste of money.  I’m determined to keep my utility bills low this winter.  If that means keeping the house freezing while I huddle near the space heater, then so be it.  Winter will not rape my finances again this year.  No $300 gas bills.

One thing I’m apparently not determined to do is clean.  As I said, I turned the heat on to clean, but I never did.  I folded laundry, but that’s about it.  I really need to get it done tomorrow.  Sissy’s coming Friday and I have work and rehearsal on Thursday.  I have work tomorrow too, but it’s early.

Which leads me to two other things.  I could stay up and clean now, but I’m having trouble waking up in the mornings, so I should go to bed early.  But tomorrow I’m planning to go out in the evening with The Boys and their Lady.  That will make problems with the cleaning tomorrow thing.  Then again, if all else fails, I can stay up late tomorrow and Thursday since I con’t have work until 11 and 5 the morning/evening after.  I’m tired now and my actually be able to sleep.

The Restaurant served Mississippi Mud Pies today.  Oh chocolate!  Obviously they were for the guests, but most of us (all who wanted one) got a slice.  Mmm.

About a week after starting this blog I got my first few readers.  Three of them.  They arrived through such tags as “journal” and “stray.”  Ha!  I bet they did not get what they were expecting!  I’d really like to know how they reacted when they realized what they’d found.  But maybe I wouldn’t.  I can imagine it either way, and it’s not divied just along their reactions being positive or negative.

So this journal/blog are really sucking up time.  The reason I didn’t clean?  Yeah, general distaste for the activity, but I was doing this instead.  There are worse things I could have been doing.  Video games, for example.  But it was still procrastination.

I need to get on the ball.  Find a sub for next week at the Citadel, respond to Sue’s director.  I’m sure there’s more I’m forgetting to do.  There always is.

I finally got my travel info to the bozo at that horrible choir I sang with a few months ago.  Other than them giving me my money, may I never hear from them again.  I still need my oil changed.

I just saw, the notebook I bought a little while ago…  It’s wood free.  That’s awesome!

I was doing some musical improv today.  I really wish I’d recorded it.  I need to do that the next time my mind goes there.  I had some great material for a mass.  A good one this time.  Oh well.  Made me feel like I could actually consider composing again.

Well, I think I got a lot of waht I wanted to down.  I’m sure I missed a lot, but I got some other stuff I’d never planned on.

Oh!  The reason I’m working on Thursday now, I picked up an extra shift.  Stupid!  Actually it’s probably good.  Earn some extra money before taking a week off.

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I got payed by the Citadel on Thursday.  That helped.  Not as much as I’d like, but it means I can pay bills without fear of checks bounding and still put a little into the credit card to stay under my limit.  I also got a check from the Choral Society concert yesterday.  That $250 will also be a big help.  Now I can definitely make it until next Thursday for the Restaurant’s paycheck.  I fear it will be abysmally small.  But every little bit helps, eh?

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