What are you going to do with it...?

Someone once said, “Ignorance is bliss.” For those of us who are blessed with the opportunity to learn and be educated, we are unfortunately—or fortunately—bound to becoming an asset to our community and to thinking on a more global level…as opposed to being selfish and narcissistic and living only in the world directly around us. When I was in tenth grade, I was identified as an “outstanding leader in my community and school.” Because of this I was granted to opportunity to attend the Hugh O’Brian Youth Leadership seminar in Central Pennsylvania (www.hoby.org). HOBY changed the way I thought about the world… it wasn’t just me anymore, it was a something bigger. I began to understand the importance of volunteering in my community and giving back to a world in which I was blessed to be one of the more fortunate members of society. I went back to HOBY every subsequent year in various roles, I did a lot of community service projects, and I assumed leadership responsibilities in my school and community in an effort to “change the world.” Though I didn’t necessarily move mountains at the time, I was definitely helping others around me and thinking beyond myself.

Time passed, college came and went, grad school took me to another part of the country, I made the “big move”—and, through being so absorbed in my studies and “life” in general, I began to forget my importance to society. It became a lot more about “me” again and my HOBY enthusiasm became a dim light in my past—which was exactly what I didn’t want to happen, and was exactly what I preached others not to let life do to those who have so much to give.

So, here I was: 25 years old, two jobs, and no time for anything else in my schedule—and I decided it was time to get back to my HOBY roots and volunteer for the 2008 seminar. I couldn’t wait to cheer and meet my kids and gain back that enthusiasm I was so longing for... I couldn’t wait to see the look on everyone’s faces after they came home from the mock legislature or their community service project… I couldn’t wait to feel a sense of accomplishment on the last day when my kids didn’t want to leave and were so electrified with the HOBY spirit! …However, this year was a bit different for me. This year, I felt all of those things—but, I also felt a little more. This year, with some enlightenment from a friend, I realized that I had a new understanding of the question we asked our ambassadors on the final day of HOBY; that question was, “What are you going to do with it?” When I was a tenth grader confronted by this question, it meant something to me that was something very different than what it meant to me as a 25 year old. You see, at first glance, volunteering in your community, getting involved in your school, and joining organizations is only the first step. Because, after you’ve done all of those things—you’ve only begun the first step in becoming a leader. It’s not just about using your passions for the betterment of the greater good, but it is also absolving to be one of the greater good and pushing your limits daily in order to create change. Now, there is no step by step program for this… and I’m still not exactly sure where this enlightenment will take me, but, I’ve come to a point where there is no going back. I want to no longer be on the track to becoming a pawn to pop culture and the game of life, I want to take life by storm (!) and create my realities and opportunities for the common good.

Funnily enough, on my trek home from HOBY I happened to be on the subway and—because my ipod ran out of batteries—I was not listening to the noise of the latest pop song, but instead I was observant and open to what was going on around me. After about five minutes, I noticed a quote on one of the advertisement panels at the top of the train. (In an effort to educate, the MTA and the New York Poetry Society has created something called “Poetry in Motion” which is really a unique way to bring famous quotes to transit riders). This one was a quote by E.B White, who you may know as writer of the children’s book Charlotte’s Web, in which he says,

“There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter–the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last–the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion.”

So, what am I going to do with it, you may ask? For now, I am ready to get back to being a part of my global and local community, I am a ready for change, and I am ready to take my passions and my reignited HOBY flame and find my place not only in this big city, but in this big country, this big world.

A New York Minute - shorter than you think

So, I have two jobs. WHICH, wouldn’t be such a bad thing, except for I’m trying to have a social life as well. Unfortunately, working two jobs and going out leaves little room for sleep so I get about six hours per night during the regular work week. This is not at all interesting except for the fact that it has made me an insanely delirious person, though, I have yet to actually surpass the boundaries of my physical body. I suppose a heart attack or panic attack, or any attack for that matter may be the only way to tell if I am actually harming myself. To add insult to injury, I decided it would be a fantastic idea to stop eating solid foods for two days (well, it was supposed to be three, but I made it to what we’re calling two days) and try something called “juicing.” Juicing is really just giving your liver a break for a couple of days. (Although, my thought is if they added a little alcohol to the juice it might actually be a bit more enjoyable…). Instead, its things like kelp, spinach, almonds, parsley… truly nast-tastic. My point is, well, I don’t really have one. But, I will say that testing your body’s limits is a pretty unique process. Whether it be how long one can run until passing out, how many cookies one can I eat, or even how many jobs one can I acquire – the answer is always the same… It catches up with you in the end. So, I guess trying to balance life and work will always truly be a unique struggle, but for now I am trying my best while trying to stay healthy/beautiful/skinny/young.

And, in this city, I need all the help I can get.

Nobody's Gonna Rain on My Parade

     At one point or another all of my friends have asked me why I'm single.  Even when I came out to my mother, her first words were, "Sweetheart, I know. I throw you a Wonder Woman themed birthday party every year.  The real question is why you haven't found someone fabulous?"  I'm not foolish enough to believe this constant barrage is because I'm so amazing that boys should be lining up.  I'm just at that age when everyone becomes so relationship obsessed that "Can you believe this weather" gets replaced with "Who are you dating" as the acceptable ice breaker in the elevator or at the urinal.  It's not that they want to talk about my relationship as much as they want to talk about any relationship, especially if that means they can talk about theirs.  I've learned to return the question as soon as it's asked of me, because apparently, the best part about relationships is talking about being in one.  Still, I can't deny that my hesitation to put myself out there has to do with my college boyfriend ending his break-up speech with, "You're going to make someone really happy one day."

     I was furious.  Among the standard list of break-up grievances, I was livid that he didn't think it necessary to use original material.  I'm going to make someone happy one day?  Is that the best cliche he could come up with?  Why didn't he save us both some trouble and text me a form letter asking if we could still be friends? (Although, I shouldn't complain.  This was the same boy who told me - in all seriousness - that Jesus wanted us to be together.  I guess it all evens out.)  But nearly three years later, the words are still with me.  I'm "going" to make someone happy.  Future tense.  I have the potential, but I'm not living up to it in the present moment.  The problem was I had tried so hard, just as I had in my few previous relationships and all of them ended the same way: they could see the potential, but in the end I didn't meet it.

     From a young age, I've had an intense desire to please.  I suppose it's partly because I've always been stared at.  And not in a good way.  Until college, I had enough acne to make a horse faint and was what the casual observer would call morbidly obese.  Add in the fact that I'm a homosexual who is well over six feet tall and people tend to notice.  Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that I had to seek the approval of others and not the other way around.  You can imagine how this effected my dating technique and taste in men.  "Yes, I believe Jesus wants us to be together, too.  Isn't he the best?  In fact, Jesus set me up on my last three dates."  It may have hurt when he broke up with me, but I can't say he was wrong to do it.

     Recently, I ended my dating dry spell with a guy who was tall, intelligent, and very well=off. On paper he was delightful, but in person he was less so: half way through the appetizer he had gone through all the text messages on my cell phone; during the entree he declared most of my interests were not masculine enough to be talked about publicly; and by dessert he had knowingly and unapologetically insulted my best friend.  Incredibly, my reaction to all of this was to tailor what I said so he'd like me more, but I caught myself.  I did not like this guy and I certainly would not like the kind of guy he was apparently attracted to.  Why was I so willing to deny my love for all things Barbra and Liza for this schmuck?

     When the check came, he asked if I wanted to go grab a drink at the bar next door.  I had given a schizophrenic performance during the meal: hyper masculine in the beginning and flaming queen at the end.  Why would he like that?  Maybe I had misjudged.  Maybe it could work out - and maybe if I censored myself a little he would like me enough to start a relationship.  All relationships are built on compromise, right?  I left the restaurant without him. I'm going to make someone very happy someday.  And I'll be damned if that someone is anyone but me.