More than half, but less than a year

Days in Yakima: 225

Currently reading: Barbara Taylor Bradford's Voice of the Heart (but I've only gotten through about five chapters since I picked it up in February), Crystal Lake Memories: A Complete History of Friday the 13th (but I've only made it to Part 2 since I downloaded my copy from Amazon), All the President's Men (another one I keep picking up and putting down), The Tommyknockers (the next title in my Stephen King-in-chronological-order endeavor), and Fiend, a book by Peter Stenson (I started it today and I'm really digging it so far).

Level of happiness: On a scale of 1 to 10, about a 6. I'm content, but I still hate pretty much everything about Yakima — including my job and most of the people I encounter daily. Luckily, I've recently found meetings that I really like — NA in Yakima is where it's at — and they've been better than anything else that's happened here so far.

Highlights from the day: Finishing all my laundry before 10 a.m. Going to two libraries to grab copies of books I want to read. Shopping for healthier groceries. Contemplating a late-night run. Starting Fiend. Shaving off my mustache. Cooking a chicken, broccoli and rice casserole. Attending a meeting. Talking to my sponsor. Texting snarky observations to Brennan — he's a pretty decent dude. Feeling grateful fall is nearly here. The day's meditation on taking care of myself.

*       *       *

Rhode Island School of Design invited John Waters to give a speech to a recent graduating class. His words were published in a great little book, Make Trouble, and I'm kind of living my life with a few of these notions running through my brain daily.

Incidentally, my buddy Brennan is a huge fan of John Waters and I just re-watched This Filthy World because I suggested he see it for the first time.

Waters' speech is layered with wisdom I can't stop thinking about.

"Somehow I've been able to make a living doing what I love best for fifty years without ever having to get a real job."

I doubt I have another 50 years in me, but this is definitely my current aspiration.

"Ask for the world and pay no mind if you are initially turned down."

And I am about to do just that. A swift change is in the works for me professionally, one way or another. I'm kind of sick of being a yes-man who gets stepped on constantly. If I make a request for a change at work and I'm turned down, no problem. I'll just do something else, but I'll continue writing regardless.

"REMEMBER: you must participate in the creative world you want to become part of."

Which is why I surround myself with horror and trash and just the right mix of high-brow and low-brow art.

And porn.

"Watch people in the streets." "Spy, be nosy, eavesdrop."

Which is where my best ideas continue to come from.

"Go out in the world and fuck it up beautifully," Waters said.

And later:

"Make me nervous."

Make John Waters nervous? Shock him? Give the Prince of Puke, the People's Pervert, something to really marvel over?

I don't know if I'll ever get there, but I'm certainly going to give it a shot.

Now, about this eclipse...

As underwhelming as it was (I wanted moments of total darkness, all animals losing their minds and a possible simultaneous comet strike/alien invasion in the style of an 80s horror flick), my experience — with a cool, new friend — was memorable.

The morning also reminded me my favorite time of year is nearly here. Although the temperatures remain a bit hot, a brief cold snap and the slowly shortening days are proof Halloween is imminent.

Nothing like a major astrological event to push me toward getting busy on a few horror-ensconced endeavors to ring in the season of the witch properly.

On Wednesdays we wear pink

Well, sometimes. Today, it was a lot of red plaid and a skinny red tie, but I thought about the pink.

Another day. Another run. A few more people on Facebook that I unfollowed because they get on my nerves and they're basically idiots. Rude as hell, I know, but at least it's honest. Besides, I don't think you know who you are. And if you do, feel free to do the same. I probably don't really care for the association outside the parameters of the fake social media world anyway.

Toying with the idea of changing the name of my blog to Sex in the Valley and giving it a little more of a Carrie Bradshaw feel. The one from the first few seasons, though. The way the show was originally written, not the way it turned out.

Of course, to write about sex in the valley, one ought to be having sex in the valley and I'm in a bit of a dry spell when it comes to all that (see all previous posts leading up to tonight for a little evidence).

Besides, wouldn't focusing on a single aspect of my life right now - especially one as boring and filled with all the sex I'm not having - lock me into something I'm not sure I have the commitment for?

It's been a long day and this post has no real point.

Just rambling.

Time for a shower and bed.

And another thing

This blog is my happy place because I can write whatever I want and I don't have to worry about re-reading and proofing and slimming down and making sure it's fit for public consumption. 

For my writing, it's the one place that's completely mine and nobody can say a word about it. So the next time I'm thinking about deleting someone from my Facebook feed because they post yet another piece of crap that reminds me they're an idiot and has me wondering what the connection was that ever made us social media friends in the first place... I can just come here.

Which reminds me of something I read last night in All the President's Men - a book I'm sure I'll continue to pick up and put down at my leisure for a while.

The invariable question, asked only half-mockingly of reporters by editors at the Post (and then up the hierarchal line of editors) was "What have you done for me today?" Yesterday was for the history books, not newspapers.

It speaks to me because this is my daily life as a reporter. When I really just want to be a writer and try to succeed at being a journalist and I feel frustrated and lost and wish I could write more creatively and with a little more time and freedom, I just remind myself I'm on a path toward something.

Whether it's what I wanted when I begin, I guess I won't know until I get there. 

And then I probably won't be sure it was what I wanted in the first place.

Lindsey and that damn list

Summers in Yakima — much like everything else in the Pacific Northwest — are nothing like down south.

Of course, it took the arrival of the warmer months to get me to a place where I was more comfortable being out and about a little more. But I'm constantly seeing all these little things that are so much different from the barometrically heavy months I enjoyed (and bitched about) for 37 years.

Seeing all the differences and experiencing these long periods of nostalgia, constantly comparing and contrasting and finding everything I liked better about Louisiana has only gotten me so far.

And it reminded me of something a very good friend of mine told me about how she ended up getting married.

I interviewed Lindsey Higgins — née Feritta — last summer when I was doing a story on dating apps. She was one of the long-term success stories I spoke with in the course of my research and she said some things that really stuck with me.

Namely, "get rid of the list, Miles."

Lindsey explained that it wasn't until she finally got rid of the list she had in her head of what the perfect man and the perfect relationship looked like that she found her universe opened up to other possibilities.

And for Lindsey, ultimately, true love.

I've been doing the same thing with Yakima, keeping a list in my head of everything it should be. But when I got rid of my list for the city I live in, it's had me starting to think about that other list I've got in my head - the list that's probably kept me far too single and far too selective for entirely too long.

I thought about all the cliches I'm always offering people, the dumb opinions that came from somewhere at some point and have absolutely no basis in fact.

The perfect guy for me is a total top. 

He's got to be hot and masculine as hell and know how to change a tire. 

I don't believe in versatility - it's a total scam.

Just how long have I been telling myself these things and saying these things and believing these things? And are any of them really even true?

Makes me think about how many fun and interesting and sexy and intelligent and entirely worthy guys I've just let fall by the wayside instead of giving them the time of day.

So, of course, this post comes after I attended a party over the weekend and was approached by a guy who initiated a great conversation and really intrigued me and led me to slapping my number down on a table beside him in the hopes that he'd call at some point and maybe ask me out.

And then I went home, found his profile on Grindr and read that his sexual position doesn't exactly make him compatible for that list I have in my head.

And I was disappointed.

And then I was angry.

Totally unfair, man. I mean, here's this dude who is a little younger than I'd prefer and a little bottom-ier than I've always told myself I'd prefer, but does any of that shit really need to matter? Aren't there about 100 other qualities that make much more difference than this image — probably totally manifested from prolonged exposure to pornography — I've built up in my head and tell myself I absolutely must adhere to?

I mean, those notions have gotten me this far, and I'd like to believe I'm right at that place in my life where I'm sort of open to the idea of something more long-term and substantial.

Maybe I need to really get rid of that list and just see what happens.

I mean, it couldn't hurt.