Archive for January, 2007

During the days, I sling code to make the payments on all my toys. But on the occasional weekend, I’ll help out a local wedding photographer. It’s really less about the money, and more about the chance to interact with a whole bunch of strangers, two which are getting married.

Shooting weddings, you see such a diverse number of people. Young, old, beautiful, ugly, poor, wealthy, white, black, people from all avenues of lives coming being brought together under one roof by some connection to the bride or groom, be it college friends seeing each other after many years, the mother of the bride, or even the caterer who brings the food. Everyone has their place in a wedding.

My place is to shoot pictures. The lady I assist does the formals, the standard stuff. I just roam around shooting candids. As the wedding goes by, I’ll start picking out personalities. The guy who talks at the top of his lungs and demands all the attention. The black-sheep deviant relative who shows up in jeans, sneakers and a sleeve tattoo much to the dismay and clucking of the matriarch of the family. The family outcast who was invited, but ignored and sits in the back table, beer in hand and “why the fuck did i come here?” written all over his face while people dance away the night.

And theyre all pretty much forgotten the next day. I’ll get home, download the pics. Pick out the ones I like, and send them off to the photographer and she handles the rest. Its all transient to me. Ephemeral. Here one day, gone the next. I don’t remember specifics unless I look at the photos again. Then bits and names will come back to me. Psychologists call this “memory by visual association” or something like that. It seems improbable, to think about it, that some bride and groom’s biggest day could be so easily discarded from the immediate memory along with other bits such as what I had for dinner last nite. At some level, is that just all equally important?

Gosh. Where have the years gone? I remember sitting at the family dining room table not quite getting used to the idea of seeing “2000″ as part of the date on a newspaper.

Now I sit here and look behind me. I’m looking for those six years that somehow snuck by when I wasn’t looking. Or mabye I was drunk and slumped over a bottle of vodka when they slunk by.. giggling and pointing at me.

But as mothers are bound to say, there’s no use crying over spilled milk. Time’s arrow continues to track unerringly forward, things and people need to be done.

I never was much on new year’s resolutions. I always subscribed to the the notion that any form of self-improvement is always best started right now. As in right now. Why wait around for some arbitary day of the year that supposedly siginfies some new year, when not even all calendars or all cultures even observe the same new year. Just get started on it now. Or tomorrow, if there’s this candy bar you want to finish off before starting that diet.

However I do have a few items I’d like to stratch off for 2007. So without further ado, the list – in roughly chronological order:

• Run ten miles without needing medical assistance afterwards. (this leads up to another item below)
• Boulder V9 at the gym. Need to show those 19 year old punks at the gym that a 32 year old man can still kick their ass. And since they’re getting better every day. I have to as well. What I don’t tell the punks is that I’m hurting all over afterwards. Advil! Stat!
• [this item shall remain personal to me]
• Purchase a 85 1.2L. Biggest, most expensive piece of glass you’ll ever see.
• On October 28, 2007 – Run the Marines Marathon. Ill take any time as long as I don’t DNF. Under four hours if I’m lucky
• Move to San Francisco

Ever since coming out to my family, I’ve never made it any secret that I’m gay to anyone I interact with on a regular basis.

I don’t leap out there with a pink boa wrapped around my neck and say “TAA-DAAA! I’M A FLAMING HOMO!” to the first person that walks by. I tend to just treat it as just another characteristic of who I am.. kind of like if we’re talking about photos and I’ll say I’m a hack of a photographer.

Or on that matter, if someone asks, “Do you have a girlfriend”, I’ll respond “No, but I had a boyfriend.” That usually gets the point across and we’ll continue talking as usual.

But even after all those years, it’s still somewhat hard to get comfortable being open about my sexuality to casual accquaintances. I don’t know them well enough to get a read on how they think on this whole thing, and I sometimes just dont put it out there – sort of waiting for a better day when I know a bit more about that person.

Case in point – there’s a bar around the corner from where I work. I’ll drop in for lunch every once a while for a burger and some soda. The girl who works there, who I’ll call Laura happened to know some sign, and was besides herself with glee to have someone that she could practice a bit with.

Laura’s a young pretty girl. We’d chat often during lunch and over the months, I got the feeling that she was more than just interested in me as friends. I was so not looking forward to the day when I’d have to break the news to her. I always totally hated it when girls would show interest in me and I’d have to kick their hearts to the street. Makes me think of that line, “Hurts me more than it hurts you.”

Well, last week, I walked in after work. I said I wanted a burger, but hold the coke, I wanted a beer instead. I placed the book I’m currently reading on the bar while seating myself on the stool. Laura took the book and started reading the summary on the back of the book.

She looked up at me with a look of disbelief and said, “A romance? Do ya like boys or what? I don’t even like romance books.”

I was completely caught off guard by the bluntness of the line of questioning, and could only manage a little grin and fire back, “Well hey here aint nothing wrong with a romance book!” I instantly knew then that my opportunity to answer the real question here was gone.

Lauren rolls her eyes and goes to pull my beer for me. I’m sitting on the stool watching her and wondering to myself why I didn’t answer. Was it because I was caught off-guard or was it because I at some subconsicous level didn’t want to disappoint her – and just how serious was her question? While she was filling up my beer, was she thinking to herself, “He didnt answer.”