Stephen's Den

I drove up to my little apartment and bounded up the stairs at around the usual time: 6pm. My heart did a familiar little flutter as I tried the door. Locked. Relief. So he’s still inside, that’s good.

I opened the door and entered. Barenaked Ladies was playing loudly from the laptop. Many Barenaked Ladies songs deal with mental health, depression and suicide. I opened the cabinet above the fridge and shook the bottle of Ativan. No, he hasn’t taken any. Good boy. Ativan is used in emergencies only for panic attacks. It’s also an anti-convulsant and when abused, can be dangerous.

Continue reading This is where it ends

And now for something completely different…

I came across this example of fine American cuisine at my local Walmart, so I absolutely had to get it. Notice that it’s artificial blueberry flavoured. Yum!

I must admit, when I saw these featured on the Daily Show, I thought it was a joke. Sadly not.

This happened on Wednesday 31st January.
This is it: this post is the reason you all have been worried about me. I should start by saying that everything is fine and I am doing very well, thank you. That said, this post is about a rather difficult period in my life I’d like to share with you. Like some of the other difficult times in my life, it involves a guy…

I think I mentioned before that Stephen (my boyfriend, or so it seems) suffers a malady of the mind. Before I even met him, he confessed he occasionally suffered from panic attacks. This didn’t bother me. As I got to know him, I realised his condition was a little more complicated than your garden variety anxiety: he is diagnosed with manic-depression, also known as bipolar disorder. We talked about it a lot and I told him that if ever he was having a rough time, a panic attack or anything, he should call me.

Continue reading Madness takes its toll

Relationships are always complicated. Sadly, though, I think mine are a little more complicated than average. My father tells me that I suck at relationships about as badly as he does. Still, this genetic disadvantage doesn’t stop me from trying, over and over.

The day after our romantic dinner in the reunion tower’s revolving restaurant, I took Stephen to church with me. Strange place to take your gay date, you may think. I thought he needed to be introduced to some loving, welcoming, caring Christian people who wouldn’t judge him, no matter who he was. Ironically, though, I was nervous of judgment myself. You see, Stephen looks younger than he actually is. And he already is quite young. I feared what people (even gay people) might think of me.

Continue reading Admit impediments

It’s been a while since I’ve posted and I’m sorry about that, I guess life truly does get in the way of the Internet sometimes. I have been meaning to write a really nice detailed post about what’s been going on in my life but I have always put it off because the thoughts were never quite ordered in my mind. Since so many people want to know how things are going I have decided to just force it out in a kind of stream of consciousness, I hope it makes some sense.

This morning, I awoke at around 6am to the sound of my phone buzzing pleasantly on the kitchen counter. I have never received an early morning call that bodes well. I staggered to the phone and answered. It was my mother, she’s worried about me. I have been worrying so many people with my silence.

Continue reading Swab

“Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” Beautiful words, credited to Herodotus who lived over 2000 years ago. What about snow and rain I wonder? Surely that’s a different story entirely.

I awoke a little earlier than usual this morning. I’d gone to sleep late and so had set my alarm in case I dozed too long. There was no scraping, skidding or any other noise outside: promising. There was, however, a faint and ominous “cracking” noise: dubious.

Continue reading Neither snow, nor rain

The strip in Vegas: a place I had heard about, read about and seen on TV, but not a place I had imagined ever going to myself. It’s one of those fairytale far-off places everyone talks about but never goes to. Yet I was here, standing drowsily in the biting cold winter weather, staring up at the impressive buildings looming overhead.

Sarah & I were standing outside our hotel: the Luxor, looking North towards the MGM Grand and the Excalibur. The Luxor is about as far South as the strip extends, the only hotel and casino further South is the Mandalay bay, one block South. Just a little further South of that stands the Iconic “Welcome to Vegas” sign pictured here on the right. All the other hotels were laid out before us to the North, stretching out into the distance, lining the 6-lane road that separated them like self-contained cities.

Continue reading South Strip

This story is about a little foolishness I recently indulged in. Now, foolishness is not a particularly unusual story for me. That said, this is a somewhat unusual situation for me to be in. You see, quite recently, I have been wooed by a young suitor. The rational realist in me knows that the relationship will probably never work out. Still, the hopeless romantic in me wants to see what happens anyway and is enjoying every moment.

You see, it’s not every day I get to go on dates. I just hope I don’t end up hurting him, or myself. There will be more stories posted about this topic, but so as not to offend the sensibilities of some people, I am only linking to the story here. You won’t find it in email subscriptions or in RSS feeds, only from this link. If you don’t want to hear about my sordid love life, please, don’t click on this link.

I awoke this morning to the sound of scraping. That’s never a promising sign to the start of the day. I rolled over and groaned, initiating the same old argument I have with myself every morning.

“Time for work, Stephen”
“I don’t wanna”
“I don’t care, get up, it’s time for work”
“5 more minutes”
“… ok, 5 more minutes”

I snoozed for a little, listening to the sound of more scraping and some skidding. Not a good sign either.
Continue reading On thin Ice

Part of the Vegas experience is being constantly accosted by people trying to sell you something. Sometimes it’s a scruffy looking man in jeans and a T-shirt trying to sell you line passes to a club or half price tickets to tonight’s shows. Other times it’s a man dressed primly in a suit and tie, behind a desk at the hotel, inviting you to come over and see his specials in the most foreign of accents.

Sarah and I soon realised that neither Mr. Jeans nor Mr. Suit were really offering us anything we wanted. One afternoon, as we walked into the Venetian (on our way to see two of my favourite shows: Phantom and Blue man Group) we were confronted by a tall man in a suit with a distinctly Scandinavian accent.

Continue reading We Are Family