Well fuck

Somehow and for some reason, Voldemort found and looked at my LinkedIn page.  Ruining a perfectly good evening of fake-killing a celebrity for me.

**fume**

With Teeth

I knew going in that it was going to cost a lot of money.  I hadn't gone to the dentist in two decades due to not having dental insurance, but I wasn't having any tooth problems, so that was good, right?  It meant I was taking care of my teeth properly and didn't need to.  Then last year I had one problem tooth removed, and I began to realize that I'd probably really fucked things up, and then this year I after I got my Sonic-care toothbrush I began to actually KNOW I'd fucked things up.  It made my teeth feel cleaner than they ever had; even after a few hours or a meal, my mouth began to feel and taste dirty, even if my teeth felt clean.  So before the end of the year, on my new dental insurance, I scheduled an appointment to have them looked at.

I won't tell you the price tag of the "deep cleaning" that had to be done, as it would probably buy me a reliable used car, as long as I wasn't taking road trips in it, or for that matter, popping over to Lexington much.  And it is undoubtedly overpriced (probably twice as much as it should be), but I will say it was worth it.

I honestly thought the plaque build up had ruined my teeth and gums.  It looked bad, on the lower teeth.  I looked like the lower jaw you'd find in a pile of random skeleton parts in a Halloween Store.  But no, that was plaque buildup, covering my gums, stinking up my breath... for the past twenty years or more.

(How did I ever have boyfriends?  Why would somebody want to suck face with this EC Comics horrorshow inside my mouth?  People must have been desperate, or perhaps it just built up quickly since Dayton.)

Anyway, ninety minutes later, with both the dentist (I'm sure she has a speciality title besides "Dentist" for doing this) and myself basically worn through with sweat, I saw my teeth clean for the first time in decades.

HOLY SHIT.

It was worth the money I will be paying.  There was some gum damage, but it obviously will repair itself in a short while if the tooth extraction was any indication.  And I had plaque built up so long that I had forgotten about The Gap.

I have a huge Letterman-esque gap in my lower front teeth that I had totally forgotten about.  The plaque had bridged the gap and I didn't notice.  It was like seeing an old friend... an old, scared friend who was frightened that he might be corralled into an Invisalign prison soon.

Immediately my tongue began exploring The Gap just like it used to.

My family was poor at the time my dental hygiene went to shit, and we had to decide if I got the braces to fix this gap, or my brother with the severe cross-bite got them.  I don't know how it was decided, but my brother won, and rightfully so, because this gap just looks stupid but a cross-bite is pretty much hell.  (Not that the braces were fun either.)

I had gotten better with dental hygiene in the past couple of years, but there was always some bleeding.  This is the third day after the cleaning, and there has been not a single drop of blood during my brushings.

Yes, it is worth it.  I may have to delay moving by a few months (unless my job does that for me) and I might delay getting the new laptop for a while, but it is worth it.

Now spit.

Is there more I could have said

I am finding myself at a crossroads in life that I've never been to before, which is namely, not being sure what to do next.  I do know that following my heart is not good advice, whether in love or professional matters.  The heart lies to you, well, mine seems to anyway.  At the very least it doesn't know what it's talking about with matters of love.

In my professional career, leaving Kentucky for Portland was absolutely the right thing to do.  And leaving Portland for Dallas, even after just a year, was also the right thing.  Leaving Dallas to go to DC was not, because I felt I had failed in romantic matters, but also needed to get away from Voldemort.  I should have just ignored him and let that relationship whither on the vine.  

Coming back to Dallas was the right thing to do... leaving it yet again was definitely not, because it did not make my professional or personal life better.

Now I am at a junction where I will shortly be relieved of all debt and be able to be independent again from anywhere.  Honest?  I'd love for my company to find room for me in their city, I do not know how feasible that is in the short term.  Perhaps I should just pack my shit up and move back to Dallas.  There are enough people I still know there, and it is a fun place to live.  And cheap.  And their apartments KNOW how to make Central Air work, which is important.

Anyway, I am lucky to have such problems now considering the past few years.

**********

An online tussle with somebody who used to be a dear friend revealed something to me that I didn't really want to admit--I'm not a fan of the gay community, despite being an estranged part of it.

The honest truth is a few years ago, when I was too scared to seek medical treatment for depression, I kept an open journal online.  Anybody could read it, as it was a cry for help.  I didn't understand these thoughts I would have, often bordering on absurd anger towards the smallest slight by friends, often just rude observations and the like about my life.

Getting these thoughts out of my head helped me tame them, and often I would go back and read them and actually post, "Why am I like this?  Why did I think this way about somebody I am supposed to care about as a friend?  It makes no sense and the person who wrote this is an alien to me, but I know he is still here with me now, inside." 

It seems obvious to me that I was hoping one of my friends would stumble across this, see how much I was hurting myself, and just... you know, try to help, like friends do.  But no, instead, my beloved dead-in-the-bed-fuck stalker found the journal, weaponized it, and suddenly everybody in my life (who at that point practically never talked to me anymore anyway since I'd moved again) had their hissies absolutely fit, and were chewing adamantium nails about what a horrible person I was to say such things, completely ignoring the posts where I admitted to not understanding what was wrong with my brain.

They could read it all.  I know quite a few did read it all, and somehow missed the bits about me knowing I was sick and not understanding where these thoughts came from inside of me.  

And then they had the gall to act like I had betrayed them.

Really.  I'd make a comment on somebody's talent (while also praising them) but I was the absolute bastard for daring to criticize.

In the end, I didn't so much as apologize to a few of these people as call them and let them know that I clearly stated this journal was for crazy thoughts, and we all agreed we knew the sick person who leaked it... but you know?  What does it matter who leaked it?

The reason I avoid the gay community is because most of them seem to be just like my crazy journal when you are not there.  Every one of them, at one time or another, has talked smack about our other friendships behind those peoples' collective backs.  Vicious little acidic jabs, clucking at the laughable machinations of others' lives, all the while not knowing the people who they were talking smack about were doing the exact same thing to them.

You know, I am pretty sure none of these people, whom I used to call friends, have ever owned up to their true feelings.  They smile in your presence, waiting for you to turn your back so the dagger can be so gently inserted in your back when you don't expect it.

So I just assume the whole gay community is still like this, like an ongoing season of RuPaul's Drag Race.  Why would I want to still be part of that?  They don't miss me, I no longer miss them, and should I move back to Dallas and see them at TBRU, I will just politely just nod and say hi, and then when they go for a drink Mean Tweet about them.

Anyway.  Time to work.

Whoops

That last post got away from me.  It was actually supposed to be, "Dad's been dead seven years now and nobody really misses him," which is sad but true.  But when you spend your life deceiving your family over such petty shit, that's to be expected.

Today I am producing another urban legend.  Yesterday it was about the Wendigo, and there was not a single act off cannibalism in it.  Boo!  Tonight is "The Fatal Hairdo."  As long as it doesn't include the beehive of one of the B-52's girls being full of Africanized killer bees, it should be good.

Tomorrow I should get news about my next trip.

Seven years past

It was on this morning in 2012 that I found out all my fears were there for a good reason.  The friends and family were, in fact, avoiding me.  A bartender does not take off a random Saturday night for no reason (if he truly lives on tips, which was the story), and there were plenty of chances to meet family during visits, but no invites.  Not a one.  My fear was that I would not be welcomed, and I wasn't, because to maintain a living meant I had to go where the job was, and it wasn't there, and I was shunned.  I blamed myself and fell into drinking again, which at that point I had never really given up, but fell far harder than I had before.  This day was the proof, and it all went downhill from here.

(It wasn't even the job thing or not living there that they disapproved of, I believe, but that is the less hurtful thing to believe so let's stick with it.)

It was never going to succeed.  Perhaps if my life was like it is now, it would have, but remote working was not yet a thing.  And now here I am, about to make enough to live on my own again, anywhere I want, and work from home to boot.  It is a weird thing to make your living in your underpants half the time, and weirder to be paid well for it, yet I do now.

But seven years ago, I got the news.  And the reaction showed no empathy, no emotion.  It didn't matter what I thought of him, he was my father, and this morning in 2012, he'd died.

The reaction was, I believe I am quoting it correctly, "That sucks."

I've never pretended that I wasn't at fault for what happened afterwards... if that was his reaction to the life-changing event of losing my father, maybe we shouldn't be together after all.  He was kind to not move out while I recovered in the hospital from my stroke.  Heck, he was kind to trek across the country to live with me in a dopey town like Dayton.  But all the puzzle pieces I'd ignored coalesced in that moment:  his friends, his family, never wanted to give me a chance, and maybe even hated me from the beginning.  His younger sister said maybe five words to me, his older one wouldn't let her kid meet me, which for some reason he thought he should tell me.  They didn't approve and I saw it all clearly when he said those two words... "That sucks."

It "sucks" that my father was dead.  And I knew then the clock was just ticking on him walking out, regardless of what I did, so I slid into the hole deeper to help numb the pain (hint:  that never works).  

Seven years past.  Sometimes I wonder if he even knows I am still alive.  Or, to be honest, cares.

Well that's somebody I haven't thought of in a while

Guest starring Shay Carl Butler.

Thank You Hater

1895.8333333333333333...

My birthday week (last week) was supposed to be a low-key affair where I got lots of personal maintenance done by taking the first week off I've had in who knows how long to do things like car stuff and dentist stuff and eye stuff.  Instead, on my birthday, one week ago, I woke up with the nastiest chest cold and coughed my throat raw until I sounded like a Skeksis.

Luckily some medicating helped me get a handle on it and this past Monday I had a short chat with my boss that floored me and pretty much confirmed that they want to keep me long term.  So I guess I will stop looking at those Indeed.com emails, unless I see something really interesting.

In the meantime, instead of making a living doing sex and fart jokes, I will make a living scaring the bejeezus out of hundreds of thousands of strangers.  Except for tonight's episode.  I'm not sure what to do with this one.

That hasn't stopped me yet.

Midsommar

Well I did not die and didn't have much of a panic attack (relative to other ones I've had) and actually in the end had a good time in Sweden, but for now I am too tired to write about it.  Plus I have work to do.

Goodbye, I'm an asshole

Well this is it.  Twenty four hours until I embark to Sweden.  It's a United flight all the way there and back, with a layover in Newark, so if a United flight to or from Stockholm goes missing I am probably shark food.

I've been pretty upset with a tangent of society, many of whom I am friends with, who claim to be Christians, but only cherry-pick the Bible.  Or ignore it completely when it stands in the way of gaining political or economic power.  Or just use it to feel superior to everybody else.  You know, just like Jesus preached to.  Fake Christians, those with fair-weather faith.  But if I wrote that post right now I would be depressed, it can wait.

The Galaxy Song

So in advance of my trip to Sweden, I received a surprise in the mail... my new phone, a Galaxy S10+.  And a new phone line, for that matter.  I may wind up just dumping my old Dayton line and using this one as my primary.  Why not?  I barely use my phone anyway, aside from calling home.  This would be like a raise.

I also got a laptop from work... although not yet the software I'd need to use it for my job.  Luckily, I found a loophole in installation of my DAW and installed an older version of the program.  I can travel anywhere and put together a show, then transfer the files to my actual current DAW and up upgrades the session and then I *can* add the plug-ins I am licensed to use.

I will ask if they simply haven't gotten around to buying those (inexpensive) plug-ins, since I was supposed to have this phone months ago, perhaps those are somewhere out in the ether too, waiting for me to find them.

The main excitement about having this phone is just that I can take incredible photos during my trip to Stockholm, of which there are many to have.  We're apparently going to do a canal tour and perhaps go to the ABBA museum, which I am not that into except that it would make many of my gayer friends jealous.

Of course I am not that good at taking photos.  They're mediocre.  I will enlist my brother's help in the meantime to learn some tricks, hopefully, since that kind of photography is literally what he does for a living.

Right now I am ripping another rental DVD, which will finally fill up my 256GB USB stick with most of my favorite movies, so I will be ready for flying across the Atlantic and will not really have to talk to people next to me.  I am mostly taking redeye flights anyway, so hopefully it will not be that full anyway.

showthenfraud

OK. 

Enjoy that.

Keep huffing and pretending you're not.

Swedish fish

As it gets closer to the departure, I have begun to get anxiety about the trip, for no reason aside from general mental illness (severe anxiety).  I have already begun the dreams where my trip is fucked up somehow or I fucked up and got on the wrong flight or I get there and it turns out nobody in the company likes me or that they force me to do workshops, which it appears three hours of which is scheduled for Wednesday.

The trailer for Midsommar did not help my anxiety much.  

But I guess I will just avoid drinking tea.

I am going to have to go shopping for nicer shirts, and I knew enough already to do research and figure out what kind of adapter I needed to juice up my company laptop when I get there.  Reminder to self:  delete your browser history before the trip.

Swedish concert choices

It looks like I could end my business trip to Stockholm by seeing Rammstein in concert.

I've never been a huge fan, but I've never really disliked them.  So I am thinking about that.

Still seems unreal that I am going to do this.

I have no funny titles for posts about Sweden

So, yeah, it looks like I will be traveling to Stockholm in August.

I am nervous, because I have extreme anxiety about everything.  And I know I joked about it, but what if they really do have discounts at Ikea?  Or if I get there and the remaining members of Katzenjammer perform?

So now, I have to do something I never really thought I would do... apply for a passport.

Hopefully I won't need extra vaccinations.

So I work here now

So, yeah, I now work for the largest music streaming company in the world.  Apple Music only recently caught up with them in the States, but world-wide, they are the largest.  And as opposed to other company purchases, looking at you radio, nobody got let go.  And it doesn't feel like we will be, either.

Hopefully this is the beginning of a good thing.

Pure insanity

I won't go into many details, because for all I know the Swedish have a team of Seal agents to take out loudmouths, but the health and lifestyle benefits for Spotify are insane.  At least, they seem so to an American.  I think my time off has actually doubled.  If I did have a kid, even as a father, EVEN AS ADOPTION, I get guaranteed time off (six months!) and also a guarantee that my job will still be there after.  And then there's the orientation in Sweden, which I have to assume was an auditory hallucination from me being awake at a time when I was supposed to be deep deep asleep.

And those are not even close to the best bits.

The big thing, I believe, is growth.  I've already gotten a raise, but given this company's rep, I expect I will get more.  And advancement will probably be coming.

I should sell these longboxes of comics, I think.

So this happened

My company was bought by Spotify and so now I work for Spotify and they are a Swedish company and apparently I will attend employee orientation in Stockholm later this year.

Also I have learned I have a fetish for Scandinavian men.

Big Time

I always liked this song more than "Sledgehammer," it was just more fun, but it was the closest I could get to a title that was similar to "Full Time" and tie it into something unrelated, so there we go and here we are.

After two years of working for this company freelance, they are taking the gamble and making me full-time, with health benefits, as of this past Monday.

No, it isn't radio imaging, which I did for twenty years and nearly got back into when Tampa was calling my old bosses for references (they eventually went with a service... bleah).  It's for a podcasting company in LA.  I've never met anybody I work for aside from on Facebook, so for all I know I could be laundering Russian money with my paychecks.  But now I am full time, and can finally get lots of stuff I've had to put off done... like a new MRI to see if I can go down on my Kepra doseage!  And vision and dental, wish I could have waited with this one molar but it was not savable anyway.

I'll probably still keep a lookout for imaging jobs, but honestly, if I wanted to move I could move back to Texas and live on my new salary (which was a significant raise), because I have before.  It wasn't fun, but cutting out comics and eating out can really work wonders for a guy on a budget.  Plus, maybe Blowjob Pete still lives there, he was a fun guy.

Anyway, life is good right now and I am planning a vacation with my brother in NYC in the summer, but right now it is time to watch Schitt's Creek.