Past, Present, and Future

Mama, look at me. I'm moving. Maybe up, maybe down, but at least I'm moving, and I'm loving every minute of it.

Right before I was diagnosed with cancer, I had become a very unhappy person, regretting prior decisions, and having to live through the consequences of those decisions. I used to think that once you took a path in life, you could never go back, and even if the decision was a bad one, you had to live with it.

Once diagnosed, I forgot my past, and only focused on the present. What would make me happy at that moment? What do I want right now? That worked short term, but when things took a turn for the worst professionally for me, I found myself stuck in a rut I couldn't get out of, nor could I see a way out of it.

For the first time in a long time (nearly 5 years) I find myself "forward" thinking. Planning my future life like a chess board, and acting when necessary. Yet, as this summer is coming to a close, I find myself a little sad. I've met so many people from around this world. I've worked with Bulgarians, Romanians, Jamaicans, Chinese, Japanese, and people from nearly every state in this country. Sadly, I'll not see most of these people again, but each of them is being carried in a special place in my heart.

Working in P-Town is a lot like going to college. Those of us working here are living through exhausting hours and all of us have one goal in mind, lots of money. Some of us have succeeded (I've saved nearly a year's worth of rent for NYC), and just like in college, most of us have found a little time to entertain ourselves on the side (my dating life would turn some of you pale). But as the summer ends, so does this college life. Mostly, since we all are in the same boat, we are all friends.

That doesn't happen in the real world. People are looking to forward their own agendas and corporate back stabbing will start happening. That's the part I'm not looking forward to (but I've practiced my knife sharpening skills this summer).

So now that I have 8 weeks left...I guess I should decide on a major.

Juggling

So here it is, another Friday, and I am blogging from a friend's computer because my own computer is finally dying a painful death. Physical damage to the hard drive, and moving slower than a slug in a salt pit. So very likely I'm going to get a really cheap low model and go from there. Until then, I may be mailing posts to TunaGirl and having her post for me.

But that really isn't what this post is about. This post is about how life resembles television sitcoms. Currently I my friend has been dating multiple people in town, none of whom know each other. All are very good people although my friend definitely has his eyes set on one more than the others.

Now take that scenario and place place yourself in my his position. He was bartending last night and the one guy walked into the bar to visit me my friend. He sat at the seat closest to the register, which is where I my friend would stand most while behind the bar. About 10 minutes after he ordered his dinner, the second guy I'm he's dating walked in to visit and have dinner. Since the seat closest to the register was taken, he took the second seat.

Have I mentioned that the one guy is very extroverted and likes to talk to the people that sit next to him? Unfortunately this made me my friend very uncomfortable. What could possibly be worse? How about having a person I my friend hooked up with two years ago sit next to them and order dinner as well.

My friend was very happy that he had access to alcohol behind the bar. Lord knows I would have wanted to die.

Suggestions?

I've always been a person who is very utilitarian. Seeing that I have this leather mask from Carnival, I'm wondering what I can do with the mask now.

Any Suggestions?

Hot Action

I'm writing this post from the living room chair, my entire body sore and aching from what can only be described as one really good night.

For those of you who don't know, Provincetown has a celebration every year called "Carnival". This festival brings 40,000 people to the town, all to enjoy the parade and party. Beads are thrown in a Mardi Gras fashion (with bigger beads having to be earned).

I dressed in a leather mask (which has gotten me a few requests to wear in private) and started bartending around 2:30 in the afternoon. The parade went by the Commons at 4:30. I only know this because I could hear it while I was getting slammed at the bar. Luckily, I'm off today so I can finally take a few pictures, even though I am so sore from such a busy shift.

Oh...and maybe I'll spend a little time with the crying date from the other day.

I'm just saying.

Red Red Whine

A few days ago, I had a first date with someone that I had met out here. He's working in the area, but is a full time teacher in Manhattan. We share a lot of the same views and some very similar history, including spending some significant time in Africa. So when the opportunity came to have dinner together, I was happy to.

We ordered a bottle of red and some appetizers to start and started getting to know each other a bit more. Where did you grow up? How did you get to where you are now? I told him about how I got to the Cape (and about this blog), about my plans to move to the city (and was only half tempted to ask if he wanted a roommate).

But something happened while we were 1/2 through the red bottle. The wine started affecting our emotions and the conversation turned heavy. Friends and loved ones who have died from AIDS, the poor and sick conditions of some areas in Southern Africa, and how our relationships with out parents have not been the greatest.

And before I knew it, a customer from the other side of the bar was bringing us some tissue as we were both crying like emotional homos. Hell, we were emotional homos, making a big enough spectacle of ourselves that the whole restaurant was watching us. I switched to water for the rest of the evening, but I think it's fair to say I won't be hearing from him again.

From now on. Chardonnay.

It Tastes Like Chicken

I have been living on the Cape now for 2 and 1/2 months and I have been lucky enough to escape the one fate I've been avoiding. Until now. I've been invited to a lobster bake party here in the neighborhood association. Fuck.

Seriously, the thought of eating a steamed lobster makes me want to throw up a little. Now Tunagirl can't seem to understand why I wouldn't want to eat something that looks like it came out of the movie Aliens, but I'm cringing at the thought of this. Everyone around here seems to be lobster fanatics, and therefore wants to justify eating them.

"They don't feel it when they are cooked." If that is so, why do they try to jump out of the pot?

"The meat is good for you." It has one of the highest cholesterol contents and the animal eats shit to survive. How is that good for you?

"The meat is sweet." So is sugar.

Unfortunately, I really don't see a way out of this event, so I'm going to be stuck with one of these dead red carcasses in front of me, and I'm going to have to dissect this tragedy before I can actually eat it. Hopefully, the dong is going to be sitting near me.

Jumping Into Things

How many of you have ever been bungee jumping? I've done it twice and the feeling is about the same each time. You are completely freaked out and having to psyche yourself up for what you are about to do. You approach the itty bitty platform and see the ground way too far below. Then you count to three, and take a flying swan dive.

As soon as your feet leave the platform, your brain goes into overdrive and your first thought is "I don't really want to do this. I want to go back." However the laws of nature say you are in for that ride like it or not. You freefall for what seems like 24,000 miles before you feel the pull of the rubber band that reminds you that you are going to be just fine.

I currently feel like I'm falling that 24,000 miles, wanting to go back and knowing I can't.

Over the last few days, it's been hitting me that the summer is just 1/2 over and I've got so much to do now.

Sell most of my belongings and move from Cleveland. Check.
Find a job on the Cape and make as much money as possible. Check.
Find a place to live in NYC. Uhhh...anybody want to help here?
Find a job in NYC. I feel the heartburn starting.

I know this is similar to wedding cold feet, but it still doesn't make it any better. I have to find a place to live for November and it is starting to press on me. I'll think I'll divert myself with promiscuous sex. Any takers?

One Bad Night

Last night I was asked to wait on tables because the restaurant had quite a few reservations. Normally this is fine, but for some reason I couldn't get anything right last night.

I didn't have a black or white shirt, so I had to call a shop owner friend and he set me up with clothing.

My first table consisted of 4 lesbians and a baby (which sounds like a really bad movie). The lesbians ordered 4 lobsters, which freaked the baby out when she saw them. She continued to cry until the four women's plates were cleared.

My second table wanted a steak cooked medium well, but I ordered it medium rare. In my mind, I knew what he really wanted anyway. By the time his steak had been sent back for additional cooking, his friend was finished eating.

My next table ordered the chilled avacado soup. I dropped it on my delivery to the table. Avacado soup bounced out of the bowl and into my face and chest, making me resemble the priest from The Exorcist.

Another table ordered two fish specials, the pork special, and a pizza. I rang up 3 fish specials and a pizza, which I delivered when the meals were ready. the woman who got fish instead of pork was not happy, and sulked while the kitchen rushed to finish her pork.

Top it all off, I left my car keys at work and had to run back across town before the doors were locked to get them back. The running made me drop my wine opener so I have to buy a new one.


I think I just need to go back to bed.

With This Ring

Seeing that I actually have a little time off during business hours, I decided to tour some of the shops in Province Town (but not spend money). I glanced over the typical arts and crafts stores and decided to go a little risqué and go into the leather store.

Now in most towns, a leather store would sell belts and jackets. Here in this town, the store specializes in harnesses and hoods. While browsing the various leather restraints, the salesman asked if he could help me. I glanced down into the case and saw the most interesting arm band, which I asked about. The shop owner told me it wasn't an arm band, but actually a cock ring.

Now I am going to admit something publicly here. I have never owned a cock ring. I don't even know how to put one on, which I informed the salesman. It's not that I've been repulsed by them, but rather I can be pretty sensitive. So sensitive that if you look at my Southern regions harshly, I'll get racked. So it's been no cock ring for me in the past.

Anyway, I told the salesman, "I wouldn't know what size to get." he salesman however countered my size issue and offered to take me behind the curtain and measure me out, as well as letting me try one on. I declined right then...but I am wondering now.

Wouldn't a cock ring make a great Province Town Souvenir?

Getting Trumped!

I feel like such a bad blogger and an even worse friend lately. I've not had much time to keep up with anyone, and the summer has been flying by (although I have been building a small rent reserve for the fall). I've been working at the Patio and The Commons all hours of the day. Last week my schedule was:

Monday: 10-5 Commons, 5:30 - 2:00 Patio
Tuesday: 10-2 AM Commons
Wednesday: 10-5 Patio, 5 - 2 Commons
Thursday: 10-5 Patio, 5 - 2 Commons
Friday: 10-5 Patio, 5- 2 am Commons (on Call)
Saturday: 9- 2am Patio
Sunday: 9-5 Patio, 5-2 am Commons

As you can see, my exhaustion level has been high. Seriously, the manager of the Patio placed a notice about a mandatory meeting up during my time off, and was upset when I didn't show up. I mentioned that I had not been aware of the meeting, but his response was that I should have called each day to check when the meeting was going to happen. Add to it, the common abuse that took place (verbal criticism including cursing in front of customers, the attack on clothing choices, paychecks late or not correct, and the ever so often anti-gay remark), and I'm surprised I took as much as I did. I have been feeling like I was neglecting all of you, my friends.

The Patio felt I was neglecting you as well, and therefore they fired me. They said it was because I had a bad attitude (I guess I should have called in every day to see if any meetings were taking place), but really it was all about you. They felt that if I wasn't working there, I would have enough time to start blogging on a regular basis. And if anyone wants to meet me in Provincetown, I'm still available at The Commons bar.

So yes I was "Trumped" from the Patio, and to be honest, I've never been happier. Anyone want to bet I have problems getting my last paychecks from them?

Whale Watch

Ok...I'm one to pick on most anything, including religion, politics, TunaGirl's Aunt Flow, and myself. If you are easily offended...well too bad.

Last week, Karen and I did something very Cape Cod. We went on a whale watch. Something I have always found fascinating. Now I figured since I had worked until 2:30 am the prior morning that she would have booked us on a tour that left in the afternoon. No. Instead she dragged my tired ass out of bed at 3:45 am. Ok...I'm lying here. Her evil dog/beast decided to wake me and not let me sleep for the rest of the night. It wasn't until I finally screamed "NOOOOOOOO!!!!" at 5:45 that the dog finally cowered in the corner afraid to move. I believe Karen was just as afraid in her own room, but it didn't stop the big fish from waking me at 6:00 to get ready to see freaking whales! What the hell? Don't big fish sleep in?

I was required to drive as TunaGirl is "not a morning person". I drove us to the nearest Dunkin Donuts for a sugar mood adjustment and liquid energy in the form of a 24 oz cup of coffee. Tuna and I placed our order with Kelsey the Coffee Princess. Apparently remembering an order of 2 cups of coffee and 2 chocolate donuts was too complicated for the poor girl, as she had to write the order down. Lucky for us she couldn't read her own writing and gave us jelly donuts instead. My mood plummeted, and Karen attempted to tell me that at least I looked good in my new tank top I had purchased the day before.

Kelsey didn't agree however, as she decided to leave the cap of the coffee cup slightly askew, so that when I took my first sip, molten lava in the form of coffee poured down my chest onto my white tank top. Kelsey the Coffee Bitch will die a horrible death and still be a virgin.

On the drive to the whale watch establishment, TunaGirl tried to improve my mood. Things were slowly starting to get better until the speeding man got behind me. I swear, if he tailgated me any closer he would have needed a condom. I looked into the rear view mirror and screamed "If you flash your lights at me one more time mother fucker I will cram them up your ass!!!!" I suppose he must have been a bottom as he flashed his lights again. Thankfully officer friendly noticed to and decided to pull him over...improving my mood for the rest of the trip.

Arriving at our whale watch destination, Tuna and I were on the lookout for the humpback, blue, and killer whales. Instead we found the rare leopard back whale, spotted normally beached or at amusement parks. Thankfully, Tuna and I were able to get a picture to share with you.

I'm so going to hell for this.