The Hopeful

While looking for images to post today on my blog, I first had to ponder what the subject would be.  Not an easy feat for someone like me, whose mind is chock full of random thoughts, and I am humbly out of practice with this writing thing.  I came across this image below (that I believe is linked to someone's polyvore page, named zeph?  I want to give her props, so check it out – the title above should be an active link to her stuff.)

  

 

Well, this isn't to say that I feel hopeless.  To the contrary, actually.  After our recent heatwaves passed (with temps of 90º – 105º last week, ugh!), something opened up in me.  I had been feeling far too distracted, stunting virtually every project, not yet realized.  Frustrating, indeed!  But somehow, when the heat subsided, I experienced what seemed to be this emotional awakening in me, where I was gathering momentum and inspiration.  Obviously, it was a huge relief to not feel so blocked creatively, while I slowly began to practice my crafts of writing, reading, communicating, and simply observing.  I never realized how much stillness, and quiet are required for such undertakings.  And I hadn't realized just how cluttered my life had become with the tedium of daily buzzings to and fro, phone calls needing to be made, dozens of tiny follow ups for work that never felt quite resolved, leaving me frazzled.

 

Writing (or reading) could have been a catharsis, but instead, I gave way to the void of the devoid. (Does that make sense?)  My mind, my life, became flooded with refuse from requisite living, the inescapable 'have–to's' in my life, while the 'want–to's' went by the way side.  The richness and luxury of the imaginative elements having been unfairly bullied by that damn analytical facet.   (That ego-inflated, narcissistic, practical side!  Who invited him?!?)

 

Yes, my life was like public school in the mire of a financial crisis, where music, the visual arts,  and creative writing were the first to be cut.  I felt bloated and malnourished on my regiment of inactive physical activities, and primitive professional squandering posing as false academia.  Perhaps you can understand the mounting solace when such improprieties can be overridden, and more of a balance struck in this modest life of mine.  It's laughable that I mistakenly think that these moments of equilibrium might be longer standing plateaus, as if I can now coast from here on out.  And every time I find myself enjoying this fleeting symmetry, I think I need to further remind myself that while evenness is impermanent, it can be the goal.  I can *strive* to maintain the balance that becomes  self-sustaining.  And truly enjoy the richness of that vibrant, worthwhile life when I grant myself the time to *want* beyond simply satisfying the necessities in life.  

 

I *want–to* write.  So, I will…

Wanna be startin' somethin'

(Yes, I did just steal a line from an old Michael Jackson song...)

I have started many blog posts over the past few months, but none of them seemed worthy enough to publish in the end.  Not that *this* one will either, but fingers crossed!  

I got to thinking that perhaps I needed a bit of a refresher, so I overhauled the design of the blog (the background of books, since I am always obsessing about how much there is to learn from others' literary offerings, while I ramble away with my own...)  And I am hoping that this will breathe some life into this ongoing project for me.

 To recap briefly where I've been over the past few months:

• I found a baby squirrel, and nursed it back to health (before I brought it to a neighboring state's wild animal rehabilitation center a week later.  Sigh~ )
• I started asking folks if I could interview them for my long-awaited documentary on Betty White, and everyone said yes!
• That miraculously lead to a fellow documentary film maker in Washington, DC that *just happened* to have a spare ticket to the infamous May 8th episode of Saturday Night Live that Betty White was hosting –––– which HE GAVE TO ME!!!
• I GOT TO SEE BETTY WHITE HOST SNL!!!  (I don't know how it all worked out, but it did!  And even got an interview in with the founder of the Facebook movement that made it all happen!)
• Since then, I have confirmed many more interviews, and I'm in the fund-raising stage to make all of the travel and tech specs possible to bring it to fruition.
• My good friend, Jules, and I are in the midst developing our own documentary series focusing on contemporary LGBTQIA issues, which feels really exciting to me.
• Thankfully, my DC based supper–club, aptly named "BITE CLUB," has been going strong since January, and it feels great!  We have monthly thematic dinner parties at my house, where a few dozen people get together, cook, drink, gossip, and remember what it feels like to just hang out.  It's been my saving grace!  In addition to the formal dinner parties, we've also been having low key grilling sessions, where we dust off the old turntable (or ipod...) and kick up some old favorites.  My house has both a front and back porch, which I don't think have gotten this much traffic since I moved in over four years ago.  Even with the heatwaves of late, it's been incredible to reconnect with everyone over a few beers while the crickets chirp in our back yard.  Sigh~  Oh, summer...  How we'll miss you when you are gone.
• I was recently invited to help facilitate this wonderful art auction for the Whitman Walker Clinic, for whom I used to volunteer back in the mid 1990's.  Then a few years ago, Whitman Walker asked me to be in their updated advertising campaign, so every Transgender Day of Remembrance, they've been re-running the ad with my dopey grin.  Considering that they have one of the few Trans Health Clinics in the country, and was one of the first HIV/AIDS clinics in the US around the time when my (straight) uncle died of AIDS (related to being a heroin addict), I am more than happy to support this fine establishment!  It has been a great experience, getting back into the role of organizer, especially when related to the arts and non-profits!  It's been a strange feeling, almost like a home-coming for me.  It feels good to feel good again, and feel like I've hit my stride.  (So, be on the look out for my incessant invitations to join us at the auction in November!!!)
• And I suppose the most interesting facet to me was that I fell for someone a few months back.  Sure, it didn't quite work out, but this woman revived those deep seeded curiosities in me, that spark, that fire to want to better myself, crave knowledge for its own sake, and want to be the funniest damn person in the room at any given moment.  Our hilarious "list of favorites" (or better yet, the "stuff everyone else likes, but we don't understand why" lists) back and forth reminded me of how fun and engaging it can be getting to know someone new.  She was worth knowing, and still is.  More than that, she made me want to be someone worth knowing, too.  Even if I wish, retroactively, of course, I had been a little more suave and commanding, it was the most fun I've had in years.  Believe it or not, back in college, I used to be quite the flirt.  Yet sadly, since my transition, I've been stumbling around in my own shyness, unwilling to give in to that inner flirt on hiatus.  I think I'm ready to get back to work!  Flirt-wise, blog-wise, writing-wise, doc-wise, and the like. 

The coy photo of me posted above was while I was waiting in NYC's subway, about to catch the train to go watch the live taping of Betty White hosting SNL, (for which she just received an Emmy nomination!  Amazing!)  She's 88 years old, and still going strong, working every day and at the top of her game.  It is an inspiration to see when I'm 50+ years her junior, and hope to be half as productive at *my age now*!  Jeez...   I'm ready to start working at these elements again everyday, trying to build up my chops, and I hope you can tune in!

I'll leave on this parting thought:

“The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotion, spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who have never tasted victory or defeat.”

                                                                          - Theodore Roosevelt

Here's to daring ourselves *back* into the arena!  Let's "dare greatly!"   All the best, Will


*

Buddy Love!

Hello my dear friends!
It's been quite a while, hasn't it? I have been busier than I ever could have imagined, and have had such incredible adventures since I last posted a few months ago. Where do I begin???

First: I found a squirrel! His name is Buddy...



Here's a pic of him, (nicknamed "Buddy"), moments after I found him. Before I even noticed, a client's dog had picked him up from the middle of the street, where he perhaps had fallen from the nest. When I heard squeaking coming from the dog's mouth, (yes, they really *do* sound like squeaky toys ~ guh!), I quickly got the dog to drop the squirrel where she had picked him up. I was so overwhelmed with concern for the little guy, having heard that mothers often abandon their young if another animal touches it. I felt so conflicted, knowing that the dog had already swallowed him up in his mouth. Would my touch further combat any chance of a mother and child (squirrel) reunion?

I couldn't leave Buddy potentially suffering internal injuries and stumbling in the middle of the road. So, without much forethought, I scooped up the little guy, and pretty much had him tethered to me for the next week while I nursed him back to health. During that time, I called around to various rescue leagues in the DC metro area to find professionals that could intercede. Luckily, I found such a group called "Second Chances Wildlife," in the suburbs of Maryland.


It was the longest six days of my life, where I found this intense parenting instinct that I thought had long been dormant within me. I toted this little guy in a teeny military satchel a friend gifted me years ago, and fed him diluted kitten formula (should have been puppy formula), every few hours from a puppy-sized baby bottle. It was infinitely cute, and insane to witness firsthand.

This little boo was 4 weeks old when I found him, and still all bumbling and clutzy in the cutest of ways. His vision was still rough, as he most likely just opened his eyes, and developed fur covering his entire body. He was teeny! (My baby!) And oddly enough, neither my crazy pit bull, nor my still feral cat, seemed to notice him, or be bothered by his presence. It was crazy.


It was tough to say goodbye to this little Buddy, but the right thing to do for his sake. I missed him sleeping over my heart every chance he got, or his bursts of energy and mounting courage, as he bravely began to explore the world that surrounded him. It was incredible to help one sweet little being in the world, and find this enormous reserve of love and nurturing of which I never knew I was capable. Maybe I'm not such a mess after all!



I've called the rescue league several times since I dropped him off, and he was getting stronger and healthier every day. We're all crossing our fingers, and hoping that he gets the chance he nearly missed out on, and finds his way back to the wild and wilderness that's calling his name!

But it was amazing just how many people came out of the woodwork to cheer for the wee creature! I started a group page on Facebook for Buddy so folks could follow his updates, and within a few days over 80 people joined. Friends recommended other friends, who recommended other sites, blogs, articles, and personal stories. Not to sound ridiculous, (as I do so often), but I learned so much about myself, and ultimately about humanity, through this wonderful, intense experience. As concerned as I have been for this little guy's well being, and scared I was that he might not make it, I saw so many people rally around, well wishing for this wee fellow they had never even met themselves. So many strangers forged connections with me to offer their insights, their consolations, their *hope* above all.

Hope... It wasn't until I found it that I realized just how much of it was missing in my life. And despite not getting the luxury of having Buddy cuddle with me every day, or seeing his ridiculously cute face from dusk til dawn, he helped me find what I needed most. I miss the little guy, but I'm relieved at this new found sense of hope, and this faith in humanity, that even when things look bleak, we can try our damnedest to turn them around. Buddy's wobbly health has made a recovery, and this process has turned around my sense of cynicism and disbelief.

Maybe it can really work out in the end.

(If you want to see more pics & video of Buddy, the Wonder Squirrel, check out this other blog on him: __)

http://buddylovesquirrel.blogspot.com/

I hope you enjoy! All the best, Will

In search of...

A dear friend helped me with a spontaneous project last night, and as a thank you I took her out to a swanky dinner at one of the best restaurants in DC. It was incredible, and revived my love for this city, and my interest in stepping outside my usual routine. I had one of the best cocktails I've ever had in my life. A ginger-pomegranate concoction with Hendrix gin. Amazing! It was equally matched with a heavenly series of Indian inspired small plates. The best... Seriously.

This friend of mine and I have known each other for years, and try to catch up every so often to compare notes of our ongoing projects, and the state of our love lives. Last night was no different. There is a shared sense of intimacy that greets us with every encounter, where we launch into subjects that even our closest of friends may not know about us. I am grateful for our times together, as I learn so much about myself, and how different my perspective might be from others' – a learning experience desperately needed.

One of the things that caught me off guard last night was my friend's admission that she is purposely trying to make room for love in her life. She boldly stated that she's a very strong woman, independent to a fault. Lately, she's been noticing that when she meets men, she either sees them as needy and therefore tedious, or she imagines that they are as independent and self sufficient as she is, and then wonders how two people like that would find a way to connect.

My friend is an artist and a writer, and luckily for her, her career is really taking off right now. The problem is that she is so busy being an artist that she hasn't made time (or space) to make herself available to love. This admitted work-a-holic is scheduling every free moment to be uber productive, but how to you schedule: "find love?"

Part of me can relate, as I have been working seven days a week for a long time now, managing a very busy company that an entrepreneur friend of mine owns. I work so much because the work needs to get done, I get compensated quite well for my time, I am good at it, and take pride in my efforts. But maybe I, too, work so many hours to distract myself from the absence of love in my life right now. Yet, unlike my friend, I have always put love first, and assume that I always will.

It's tough for me to comprehend any other course, honestly. To me, love trumps all. Always.

Yes, I want to be successful as a small business consultant, and launch a few businesses of my own. And yes, I want to take my writing more seriously, and submit some articles after sufficiently polishing them up a bit. Or even make a return to film production someday soon... But all of this pales in comparison to my hope – and pursuit of love.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my shortcomings in the field of romance. Most of my fumbles seem to revolve around my impatience with love. Okay, not necessarily with love itself, but rather the people that I choose to love. I tend to have a penchant for women who are slightly unavailable to me. There appears to be some sort of emotional wall that I like scaling while in love. Sometimes I successfully make it over this symbolic barrier, while other times, (and with other people) I get stuck en route, hung out to dry, flailing and wailing. I think I'm bad at this – this whole love thing. I'm never so graceful when I feel held at arms length.

The reality is, I must consider what I've been doing over the years to possibly instigate those kinds of reactions. Even at my best, I still get impatient with those whom I love when I feel strung along. I can't help but wonder how different my life might be if I were more skilled at resisting the temptation to launch into over reactions at the worst times, and consciously choose to be more compassionate (to myself and my beloved, at any given time).

Intimacy isn't something that just exists 'naturally.' No, it's something that participants have to work at – constantly decoding and refining their approaches, honing their abilities to achieve and sustain that euphoric sense of closeness. A few times in my life, I had struck that balance. There were extended periods where I had felt so 'in tune' with my partners that I could intuitively sense their emotional states, even if we were separated geographically, and such. I know, I sound like a total whack job now, but I stand by it.

And there were other people that 'seemed' like they would have been perfect for me, as they possessed all of the qualities that I sought out in a prospective partner, yet that deeper source of connectivity, of understanding, compassion, sympathy, seemed to be lacking. It makes me wonder what ultimately wins out in the struggle of practical compatibilities versus deeper, more symbolic gestures in a relationship. Sheesh~ I have no stinking clue...

Sadly, I think my longer standing battles with anxiety and depression thwarted much of the love that came my way. Perhaps the fears of being unlovable made it so. Am I insufferable when it comes to romance?

During my last amorous attempt, I think I was a mess, stumbling all over the place, trying avoid the emotional pitfalls I knew from my past, but unsure of the metaphorical footing that could make me more grounded. Wanting to change my sabotaging patterns, yet still walking right into them when in doubt. I'm not trying to blame myself for everything, but it's just a bummer to be culpable at all.

If I'm looking for romance, scheduling time to 'find love,' I just want to iron some more of this stuff out before I try again, and get sidetracked in the old, outdated, ineffective routines. If I've been "looking for love in all the wrong places," maybe looking at myself first this time would be a good start. Anyone got a mirror I can borrow?

Home Sweet Home

I had a weird experience the other day – when I returned home from a long day of work, I was overwhelmed with this strange sensation of nostalgia and sentimentality. Years ago, I began renting this 3.5 bedroom house with my then live-in girlfriend. We worked together, but her work day usually finished up a few hours before mine did. Much of the time, I used to have this feeling of almost euphoric glee on my mad dash to get back home. I was often filled with hopeful excitement over being able to plan a sappy evening with my girlfriend. Whether we cooked a simple dinner, shared a great bottle of wine, and caught up about our days nestled at our dining room table, or hit the town – I looked forward to going home to her. I'd practically be skipping from my parked car, up our many steps to our front door. Even when she was in a bad mood, or even irked at me, my enthusiasm was ever-present.

Needless to say, things didn't work out between us. And as much as I know that it is for the best, meaning that we weren't *the best* fit for each other, I was flooded with that same urgent optimism a couple of days ago while I strutted towards my house. A small satchel filled with the delectable goodies I picked up at this adorable gourmet market by my client's house must have triggered olfactory memories of the days of old. What a strange feeling.

The residual effect has made me wonder if I will ever find that 'other half' most of us seem to crave. This house feels like a home, not an empty shell where she *used* to be, but I wonder how a life that feels so full in many ways may take different forms to make room for other people.

I spoke to a dear friend of mine yesterday who was saying that she has been really loving her friendships with men as of late. She's been learning so much from those connections, and understanding more about what she'd then want from a romantic relationship beyond those friendly affiliations. I can relate, since I have so many female friends, and so many amazing ones at that. I feel really lucky to have their presence in my life, and can't help but be curious about how those dynamics will help me be a better prospective partner down the line.

My friend admitted to wondering how much she would have to shift her life to have a partner in the picture. She is an artist and a freelance writer, and with such a full schedule, it seems like inking in more than just a few dates here and there would be quite a commitment. One that she is interested in making someday, but we all ponder when that person will be revealed to us when we are still single. Like we are – still single...

How should I be getting myself out of this 'home sweet home' more often in order to actually meet someone that might be a better fit? And how do we develop ourselves more completely in our 30s in a way that still leaves that door open for the right person to walk right on through? Like renovating for an open house... I gotta figure that part out.

Big Daddy

I was bummed to read that Cesar Millan's best companion dog, "Daddy," passed away yesterday. For those of you who might not know me well, animals have always been a huge part of my life. In my childhood, I was a wreck for days after seeing films like Sounder, Bambi, Charlotte's Web, or reading books like Where the Red Fern Grows. I couldn't handle the thought of animals being neglected, abused, or killed. There are dozens of photographs of me as a young child embracing some random stray pet that had wandered through our suburban neighborhood. As I got a little bit older, I would envision my future life, living some solitary existence out in rural America with a farm full of animals that I would tend. I even dreamed of becoming a veterinarian, until my father burst that bubble by telling me (too early) that being a vet consisted of neutering and euthanizing animal, and not much else. (Yes, my dad was the male version of Debbie Downer...)

In college I spent a few years delving into animal social behavior, even having my primary professor tell me that I had a gift for working with animals, an insight that she could never possess. It was flattering, and I even toyed with spontaneously flying to Gombe to try to work with Jane Goodall. (A friend's brother went there to surf, and stumbled across their camp, offering to assist them in any way needed. He ended up landing a job with them, while thousands of worthy applicants never even got responses...) I hoped that I could have been as lucky as this surfer guy.

Instead, I opted to walk dogs after quitting my insane job as an account manager for one of the largest film and video editing houses in the country. I worked on my own films, helped produce a few friends films, and walked dogs to pay the bills. The next thing I knew, the owner of the company asked me to manage the business with him. I took him up on the offer, and overall, have had an amazing time. It's been six years, and despite the bouts of restlessness, self doubt, or the itch to experience other places or other possibilities, I really love my job. It suits me, for what it's worth.

In my life, I have personally rescued four animals – three dogs, and one cat. I currently have a rescued pit bull that was thought to be a 'bait dog' in the dog fighting circles of Richmond, VA, and a cat I rescued as a teeny kitten from the mean streets of NYC. They are both impossibly difficult personalities, fearful, if not aggressive around strangers. But this is the life I've chosen – these animals being a metaphor, hoping that I can help them through their distrust of the world, as they teach me more in the process.

It is here that I learned today of "Daddy's" death, the pit bull that was Cesar Millan's 'right hand man.' He was the calm, submissive dog that was the stunning example that eased anxious dogs and owners into their more balanced, new perspectives. He was pretty amazing, as far as dogs go – having known quite a few in my line of work. I was sad that this wonderful dog could no longer play the canine ambassador as he had for the past 16 years. Having owned two pit bulls in my life, I was happy to know that Daddy was projecting the very best of that breed, thankfully!

But after I read about Daddy's death, I read about the death of a friend's cat. I heard about this cat's passing yesterday, but then read this friend's blog to find out that one of her own dogs had terrorized, and ultimately killed her beloved cat while she was away from her home. It's so frightening and heartbreaking.

Okay, I know that this has nothing to do with dating or anything, but I guess hearing the news of these two animals seemed kind of like a big deal, for very different reasons. I promise I'll get back to something more relevant tomorrow.

(Here's Daddy, with his new pack mate "Junior." Very cute. How can you have a bad day around faces like those? Meanwhile, Bub le Bubs, my pit bull, is snoring away at my feet, dreaming soundly. Even though he's a huge pain in the butt a lot of the time, I feel lucky to have him, and to learn from working with him. If only he could get me the ladies... Rather than scaring them away when they wanna come over. Sigh~)

Free Will

In my last post, I spoke about Hawksley Workman's quote that "Love is a decision." That statement really resonated with me, and I have been trying to uncover just why that is. I don't think I explored the concept enough in the previous submission, but have certainly been mulling it over offline.

While looking for images to complement "decisions," I ran across an article about precognitive activity in the frontal lobes of the brain, suggesting that much of decision making actually happens *before* we can actively think about it. The findings point to neurological transmissions in the front portions of the brain that cue actions and reactions, but these occur before the cognitive centers of the brain can step in to debate the most effective courses to take. This suggests that as much as we'd like to believe we are fully cognisant of every option presented before us, and thusly choose the wisest of the possibilities, perhaps the vast amount decision making happens before our thoughts can even jump in the game. (To read the article, click on the title of this post, and it will link you back to the study results.)

This is interesting for dopes like me who stutter emotionally on a subject for too long, paralyzed by doubts and fears that I may make the wrong choice. It correlates to Freud's notion that we unconsciously seek out carbon copies of our parental figures when we try to find romantic partners. Not that this study is confined to love, or decisions of the heart. But, in short, that there are more dimensions at work than simply thinking that a prospective suitor is 'pretty' or 'sweet.'

What I wanted to say was that I agree with Canadian songwriter Workman's thesis that "love is a decision." I believe he meant that too often we assume that love is an uncontrollable sensation, much like hunger or an itch, that seems to have its own volition, appearing out of nowhere, and instigating urges and delights within us. Similar to specific culinary cravings, that mostly seem to emerge unconsciously, many people would probably contend that love manifests in the same way. We don't know why we crave homemade mac & cheese, or mashed potatoes on cold winter nights, in the same fashion, we can't explain our penchant for bad boys who are a little too sassy for our liking.

But, to stick with the love = food metaphor, there are plenty of cravings we can acknowledge, identify, but those of which we do not need to actually satiate. Case in point: I have been craving ice cream as of late, lord knows why. As much as it seems to be an unconscious compulsion, I do not have to submit to those vacuous sugary yearnings. Unfortunately, many of us don't stop to question our cravings – romantically, dietarily, and so on... And when we just acquiesce to those pinings, we often find ourselves malnourished in some fashion. Either our literal or figurative hearts taking the toll of our indulgent appetites.

Workman was trying to say that when we simply chase one craving to the next, we find ourselves feeling empty and starved for true intimacy and closeness. And much like those sugar highs, or carb binges, we crash, and feel all the worse for our pandering. He (and I) believe(s) that love is more than just a fickle desire, fleeting as it ebbs and flows. Instead, he (and I) hope(s) that it would be a longitudinal commitment to reinvesting in the organic wholeness of the connection shared between two emerging souls. We'd probably even go so far to proclaim that those kinds of intensive, emotional ventures have much higher payoffs than the base level, carnal spinnings that come and go on a whim.

This singer/songwriter was waxing poetic about the fact that love is not just lust, or attraction – things we *feel,* and not *think.* Love (by his implied definition) should be a balance between the mindful choices we make to immerse ourselves within each others' lives, and the 'mind-less' gravitational pull we share with another from that place of seduction. (We can only seduce that which is out of reach. Once it comes within reach, does the seduction end???) That is where the acts of committing and investing in the continuity of love have the most resounding affects.

I agree that love is a decision, or at least it can (dare I say "should") be. It's a decision that I made – to love one person despite the ups and downs, the kicks in head, and the resistance. I decided to love a person that ultimately was going to teach me more about myself, and the function and revelations of love. Yet now, I am feeling stuck between the two poles of having *decided* to invest myself in the long haul, versus the reality that I need to 'undecide' that very choice. So, I am left understanding this scientific study of the underlying, unconscious roots to our cravings and related decisions, but then wrestling with the highly cognitive, and dominant belief that we can employ free will, and side step the less desirable options for ourselves.

Free will suggests that it is a voluntary decision, not determined by the physical or the divine. So, if my initial attraction to subject "A" was involuntary (unconscious), but my pursuit of her was voluntary (conscious), yet my involuntary reactions and old self defense mechanisms may have kicked in when I got scared (unconscious) – possibly contributing to the termination of the relationship, and now I feel 'stuck' still loving her (unconscious), but unsure of why I can't just talk myself out of it (consciously) – what does that make love??? Clearly it makes me a buffoon, still scrambling to understand, rather than just letting go... Sigh~

If free will exists, then why can I not free myself?

~ unFreed Will