Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Not the Best Christmas Ever

I guess I should say not the best Christmas ever so far. I'm sure there will be worse Christmas' to come because as I'm learning what it is to be an adult and to live in the class level of "impoverished,"* I'm realizing that my job doesn't care what I want for my Christmas extravaganza.

Last week I worked 60 hours. Monday through Friday, I pulled a double and slaved at both jobs. Saturday (Christmas Eve) I worked a 6 hour shift at the restaurant. I'm not kidding when I say the moment I got home on Saturday night, I started having cold symptoms. I woke up totally sick on Christmas. Didn't have hardly any energy to move; the idea of picking up a remote off the table made me wanna cry. Monday, I was supposed to work both jobs again, but I was able to call off. Tuesday, I felt okay -- not well but okay. I went to work closing the restaurant. I came home feeling worse than I did when I woke up. Then when I got home, I didn't fall asleep until 2:30. I woke up at 8:30. Tell me six hours is enough sleep for someone sick. I'm afraid that's how the rest of the week will be. At least I actually have two days off this weekend. I don't know how anyone expects me to get over my ailments at this rate, but I don't think anyone cares.

I'm hitting the job boards. Working at the restaurant has got me in a dark place at this point.

*Seriously, last year's taxes called me "below poverty level." How do you get below poverty level? Isn't that just like homeless? Do homeless people do taxes?

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Testing You

I should write on this more, but I want to go finish the movie I'm watching before I go to work (won't happen). So here it is in brief:

Someone asked me a couple of weeks ago how anger was portrayed when I was a child to which I answered, boldly, "violently." Just now, reading through my FaceBook news feed, someone posted, "I like to create awkward situations, just to see if people like me enough to stick with me. Ha." Of course, I liked it and started thinking about it. I've always enjoyed testing people's patience; pushing them, pushing them, pushing them. Why? I want to know why. Perhaps I test your patience because I need to know how you'll react. In life, you will lose your temper; you will lose your cool. I need to know what that looks like. Once I know, I can keep you at a comfortable distance. Makes perfect sense to me.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Dear Lee: Epiphany

Hey Lee,

I'm lying here in bed, and I finally had something just click. I've always known that when things got too overwhelming for me, I just stopped functioning but never known why. I avoid at all costs things that are too hard for me to face head on. When someone asks me too many questions that I can't answer, I shut down. I think it's fairly normal to not function well under pressure, but for me, it's an everlasting feeling. You've ruined that moment. You've ruined whatever that thing was for me. I won't want to revisit that thing that pressured me ever again.

So, my epiphany is: when push comes to shove, I just lay down.

And that's all I've "epiphanized" because, you know, thinking more about this is far too much pressure.

Miss your dialogue, Lee.


Tuesday, November 15, 2011

The R-Knot

Do not go see Contagion. It's just an incredibly bad idea if you're a hypochondriac like me.

I actually really hate describing things, so here is a synopsis taken off of IMDb:

"Soon after her return from a business trip to Hong Kong, Beth Emhoff dies from what is a flu or some other type of infection. Her young son dies a few days later. Her husband Mitch however seems immune. Thus begins the spread of a deadly infection. For doctors and administrators at the U.S. Center for Disease Control, several days pass before anyone realizes the extent or gravity of this new infection. They must first identify the type of virus in question and then find a means of combating it, a process that will likely take several months. As the contagion spreads to millions of people worldwide, societal order begins to break down as people panic."

I totally thought from the trailer that this was another run of the mill zombie/virus movie. And a fool I am for thinking that. Watching the trailer makes me cough! This movie will screw with your head. As was being said in the trailer, they stress the way people touch their faces and touch everything and how disease spreads like wildfire. So as if watching this movie didn't make me feel insecure enough, I had to come to work this week with everyone being sick. It's freaking me out. I'm pretty sure I'm just convincing myself I have symptoms I don't have. At least, let's hope. Seriously, don't watch Contagion.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Massage Time

Shelley has gone to the same masseuse since I've known her, and this woman has been more of a therapist for her than a body rubber. (Really, how should I have said that better?) Shelley rants and raves about how wonderful she is and how much I need to go in; how it would really do me good; how I really could use something like this. After several reluctant "I don't know's" from me, Shelley did what anyone else in my life would have done and finally just scheduled me an appointment this last weekend then told me I had a massage appointment at such and such a time. I swear this is always how these things go.

"Hutch, you will not regret getting involved in this great, wonderful thing. What do you think?"
"I don't know." (Which means, "I totally want to, but it's a bit out of my comfort zone. Read between the lines and help me work through this anxiety.")
"C'mon, just do it."
"Yeah...maybe..." ("If you'd pick up on my hints, we could be doing this thing already.")

So many inquiries later:
"I don't know what you're scared of. I'm making you do it."
"Okay," said solemnly, meant excitedly.

Perhaps it's time to take control of my own life and stop waiting for people to help me adventure outside of my comfort zone. I wasn't always this way.

Anyway, as advertised, it was wonderful. I found out some things about the pain I experience and how I can better the situation without ruining my stomach with too much Tylenol and ibuprofen. I also found out that I'm drowning my body. I drink twice what's recommended for my body size in water. Seriously, I thought I had something to be proud of for the water I drink. Whoops.

Here's to health:

Saturday, November 12, 2011

That's What You Missed On...

"If I Could Talk to LEE." Oh man, I did not plan that. And you only got it if you watch Glee.

Anyway, I've been lacking on my posting, so here I am to catch you all up.

-I went to Utah to visit family and friends as well.
-I got new glasses while there.
-My mother sent me home in her car. I flew out to Utah and drove back to C.O. in my mom's old car, my new car. It's name is Eldon (meaning "elder servant.")
-I got Shelley into Glee, and while fighting the desire to like it as well, decided I liked it. Ugh.
-I lost my dear friend at work. She's moving to Virginia, and my heart feels empty. Work sucks worse now.
-I started a new job hunt. Work sucks bad now.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Not Sleeping

I think we've all been there. Except I've never had a sleeping problem unless not getting enough making me crabby is a problem. I've decided that it is.

Shelley's work schedule has changed to Monday to Friday from 3 to 11. I thought I'd switch to closing shifts at my work and go to bed late to be able to spend the mornings with her. Bad, bad idea. Shelley's a night owl, and I'm most definitely a morning person. When I moved in with Shelley, we had to strike a balance. We would go to bed between ten and eleven -- which if you know me is super freakin' late for me. However, I got used to that. I could go to bed then and wake up between nine and ten in the morning and be ready to go.

This new schedule, however, isn't working in the slightest. Now we get to bed between 11:30 and one. 1AM is a very scary time for me. When the clock strikes midnight, I start getting nervous. "Oh dear, it's super late. I'm gonna be so tired and so crabby. This can't be happening." When the clock strikes 1AM, I'm a mess. "Help me, I'm freaking out, man! There is no way in Hell I can live off of this much sleep."

It's taking it's toll. I keep bringing up circadian rhythm's to people I want to discuss this with, but everyone thinks I'm blowing smoke out my rear end. Circadian Rhythms are completely real. You have people who are early to bed, early to rise (me). You have people who can stay up all night and feel fine waking up in the morning super late (Shelley). You have people who can live off of a little sleep. You have people who can't function without eight hours at least. Everyone can agree to all of that, but what most don't realize is how important the aforementioned "morning" and "night" patterns are.

I can sleep from 11PM to 9AM (10 hours) and feel great. If I sleep from 12AM to 10AM (10 hours), I feel rotten. I still feel very sleepy. I feel like I didn't sleep at all. I feel like I'm getting sick. I'm completely throwing off my circadian rhythm. I'm not sure if the pattern depends on me getting to sleep at a certain time or if it depends on me waking up at a certain time. I don't know. I guess I need to start experimenting with it. I really feel like crap, and no one seems to relate or think that I'm telling the truth.

If I can't figure out how to rewire the way I sleep, I'm gonna have to miss seeing Shelley between Monday and Friday. Bummer.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Utah Pride

I guess at times I have Utah Pride, somewhere buried deep down inside of me. When someone from Colorado says something about how Utah is really ugly compared to Colorado, I get really angry. I can agree that Colorado is better than Utah in  most every way. I can agree that almost anywhere is better than Utah in most every way. But I think y'all need to learn your place.

"Utah has the ugly side of the mountains" is an acceptable comment from anyone who lives in Utah. When a person from Colorado says it, I want to start shouting obscenities about how Utah is pretty and Utah is great. It's not great, I know this. But if you're not from Utah, you can't say it. So shut up.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Just Saying

(This is not a letter to Lee.)

I used to love you. I mean, what I thought was love. I seriously don't even know how to describe what I felt for you. I don't know how you found a way back in my head but you did. I'm confused and feel like I'm headed down a dark path if I don't get a hold of myself. You're the devil himself, says the atheist.

Saturday, August 13, 2011


Regarding Too Cool for School, I did not get approved for in-state tuition. They want me to be married or 23. Forget it!

Regarding Exacting My Revenge, I never did. I never sent that letter. I asked Shelley if she loved the idea (thinking she would), and she said, "Well, do you really need to harm his wife?"

Regarding Who's Lee?, I sure have gone away from my letter writing style, haven't I? Maybe I'll put them into two different styles of posting. Don't know.

Regarding The Thermals to a Man and Audience Who Don't Care, I've got another music post coming your way. Someone else has stolen my heart.

Regarding Shelley's Birthday, I never went to see The Thermals. I got sick. How stupid is that? But my birthday has come and gone. It was good. I got a Wii and a grill. Bomb!

Regarding Can't Shake, I shook.

And that's it. I'm pretending it matters this much to you.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Happiness is Not My Passion

I just wanted to say that I am a very happy person. After I moved out of Utah, everything in my life fell into place. I'm happier and healthier than I could ever imagine. I just wanted to mention that because you might get a different idea from my writings. I do not find words to express happiness. I feel it. I love to write when something's gone wrong. However, I am happy. I swear.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Can't Shake


This post is so overdue -- by weeks. I don't know where to start.

When I think of being with Shelley, I think of being with her the rest of my life. It's totally natural to think we'll be together the rest of our lives, and I'll never date another person again. I won't even think of someone as more than cute because I'm rather content where I'm at. I've never felt that way. It's always been that I knew I was in a committed relationship; but if someone cuter came along, I'd hook them and leave the person I was with for them. In my 18 month relationship, this feeling for Him hasn't come up. If this feeling came up in old relationships, I embraced it. I had my pity party about my past and eventually shook it off. I can't help feel that's not proper now.

I knew I had a problem when Shelley worked her overnight last week. I had a dream where I was walking the halls of my junior high. I walked into a dark corner where he walked slightly into the light. He pointed at my chest/heart and said, "I will always be in there." I woke up in a sweat and panicked. I was sent back into a hate spiral of memories and feelings, and I felt my heart ache in a way I haven't since I saw him for the last time. I told Shelley about being upset without mentioning the fact that I didn't think I ever wanted to feel her hugs ever again. Thankfully before she got home, I had shook that feeling off.

Every so often this week, I've thought about him. Honestly embarrassed to be thinking about him again and remembering what kind of power he possessed over me. No person should possess that kind of power over another. And the more I think about him, the more I feel like I can't talk to anyone about it.

Shelley did an overnight again last night and guess who managed to show up in my dream again. This time in the light but never close enough for me to get a good look. I honestly felt like I could feel my heart hurting throughout that whole dream. My heart ached and begged to be relieved of the dream and of all the memories. Like, "Please, things are so good right now. I want it to be over."

So here I sit. Worrying over how to shake this. Shelley had a really rough night so I can't talk to her about it. I feel like if I told anyone from my past about it, I'd be judged (or they'd respond in some negative way). I'm seriously being anti-productive sitting here making a playlist of songs that I listened to when I was trudging through my relationship with him. That seems beyond unproductive into this made up world of anti-productive.

I have this tendency to pick scabs. It seems to be manifesting emotionally as I pick, what I thought were, scars. My heart feels like it's on fire and not in any sort of good way. Help me out here, Lee. Wish I could call you.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

A Death

A dear friend of mine (an obscured relative of sorts) that I happily adopted into my circle of family passed away last night. He died of some sort of cancer, and from what his caretakers have said, he died peacefully. It seemed to come at a time when the news was needed least of all. Shelley and I were already dealing with a sort of trauma at the moment when I read up on his death on Facebook.

Isn't that odd? Two sources informed me of his death on Facebook. It's a fantastic communication tool, and it seems you don't realize how much you use it until that is your source of primary news not only for personal things but for around the world as well.

Was it impersonal? That's just the thing, I didn't know him that well. I knew that he was a great listener, and I knew that of the one time we spent together I very much enjoyed his company enough to nap on his lap. That's trusting. He was a trustworthy man.

I write this because I think I need to write this. As a guy who still hasn't really chosen to deal with his grandmother's death (been four years), I hope this is me dealing with Sunny's. I don't know how to cope. I have definitely gotten used to the idea that my grandma is not around and hasn't been around for a while and that's okay; and just the same, Sunny lived in Portland and it won't take much getting used to (his goneness). So the question begs, what happens when someone I spend all my time with dies? I plan on it not happening, but it's going to. And, hopefully I'll have learned an effective method of coping with death by then because I haven't yet left denial--til I see a dead body then it's back to denial.

He will be missed. Peace to you from my heart, from my heart to your heart...*

*Sunny sings goodbye

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

A Continuance

I'm finally getting around to finishing the blog I started writing a bit ago. I haven't felt the way I'm about to write for a few weeks, so it'll be a bit hard to write on a topic I can't quite grasp. Bear with me. I'm writing this per request. You know who you are...

At times I think I'm better at being miserable than I am at simply being content. I talked to two different friends from Utah today who I haven't talked to in a while. They seemed to have so much to say while I had hardly anything to report. My life is so drama-free. My life is simple. I really can just be. I go to work, I come home and hang out with Shelley, and go to bed. I know certain people won't believe it, but I'm totally fine being this way. I have learned to just be.

And then there are times when I start to reminisce on living in Price going to College of Eastern Utah (CEU), driving up to Salt Lake City every weekend to see you (Lee) and other friends, and run around spending money I didn't have. Dealing with all the consequences of living in an intensely small town to go to school where everyone knows your business and dealing with my parents' response to spending THEIR money that I didn't have was stressful.

I miss it. I often romanticize those times. Remembering only the fun parts and wishing I had all of those back. Then again, I think, "Remember how much that all sucked at the end of the day? Remember how often you cried yourself to sleep?" I think maybe I want all of that back. It's boring being so simple all the time. I like being sad. I like feeling so many emotions. Feeling so many emotions helps me write songs. Misery loves company, right? I hear it calling me sometimes. "Come be sad again, Hutch. Come fight against everything."

It's not for me, though. If I wanna do something a little extra, I just have to come up with the idea and ask Shelley to come do it with me. Things are great. I have a friend always by my side, a friend who I get along with always. I don't need misery.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Shelley's Birthday

Shelley's birthday is on Monday, and this weekend we are celebrating all things her. I am so excited to take this opportunity to show her that she's important, loved, and cared for by me and many more. This afternoon when she gets off of work, I'll give her her first present of the weekend. (A new shirt she's been lusting after for a while.) We have dinner reservations at 8 for sushi. I do not enjoy sushi in the slightest, but I've been meaning to take my sushi-liking girlfriend to it for a while. BTW, a lot of people think, "Oh Hutch, you just haven't had the right sushi." I've tried umpteen amounts of different sushi, all differently made by different people, and it all sucks! But here I go, off to give it another chance. We'll see. Don't hold your breath.

Tomorrow morning we are headed off for Pride. We'll have a picnic with her friends, and then peruse around checking out booths and entertainment. We're both very excited to go to Pride with a person who won't ditch us or have prior engagements with someone else at Pride. She'll get another present tomorrow morning when I wake her up. I'll give her Scrubs Season 5. We've been collecting all the Scrubs seasons since we got together. She already had a bunch. I thought I'd help her finish.

Monday, Shelley goes out to lunch with her mom to Olive Garden. She'll get her last present from me. Easy A, the most wonderful movie ever. Besides all the most other wonderful movies ever. And that will conclude the birthday celebrations. Happy Birthday to the greatest woman on earth. I love her so much.

Tuesday, I see The Thermals. :))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

I will continue where I left off on this post later.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

The Thermals to an Audience Who Don't Care

I sit here listening to one of my favorite bands The Thermals, and it sure is a trip down Memory Lane. The first memory that I have is of Steve, someone similar to you Lee, but not as productive and helpful. Steve was like a friend in high school who serves the sole purpose of trading back cds of your favorite bands in that moment of time. That kid you really only talked to when you were swapping cds or texting the other to say, "Hey, I have a new cd for you." Okay, realistically, I don't think many of us have that kind of relationship with anyone ever. I had a couple of them, though, and Steve was sort of one of them. Steve introduced me to The Thermals through this song:

But Steve's not really the point of this point. Damn Steve straight to your idea of Hell. Straight there.

The second thought that comes to mind is my first trip to Seattle. *Sigh* Seattle. That was such an awesome trip. The best one of my entire life. Forever, vacations will be living up to that one. It was my eighteenth birthday, my cousin and her then-husband, Ryan, flew me out to Seattle to celebrate. It was extremely generous of them, and again, the best trip of my entire life. I had told Ryan how much I loved the radio station out there called KEXP and my absolute obsession with music from the NorthWest. (Which continues to today.) He bought us tickets to musical festival put on by KEXP called Capitol Hill Block Party. All sorts of independent NorthWestern bands would be playing. Sonic Youth was there. And even more importantly, The Thermals. I had such a blast and get so bitterly sentimental when I think of that. I wish I could relive that. I wish I used the camera I borrowed from my friend at all during that trip.

The third thing that comes to mind is last summer. The Thermals importance in my life increased tenfold. In March of 2010, I had come out as trans. A month or so after that, I went to The Thermals MySpace page to see if they had any shows coming to Utah -- didn't of course. I looked at the band members box and saw the lead singer's name was Hutch Harris. Hutch immediately trumped every other idea I had for a name for myself. So then beyond an old acquaintance, who I'd have done anything to impress, liking them; beyond seeing them in concert in Seattle; the lead singer and I shared a name, and that was like "whoa!" I started listening to every song they had, finishing the task of owning all of their albums, even getting a signed copy of one of them. I started to realize the tremendous amount of religious dialogue in their lyrics. If you didn't know, religious dialogue is the number one way to my heart. 

So as I sit here listening to The Thermals, I think how incredibly grateful I am to have them in my life. I think about how much I miss those two men I mentioned. I think about how much I miss my old life. Sometimes I think about how much I miss misery*. Is that weird? Someone tell me.

*This post is meant to be longer, but I feel like it's plenty long. Yeah?