Fly-by, hit-and-run, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am week. Snowboarding on Wednesday with Leif and the Fatbob, which is just what I need for my size-13 feet, but it didn't make much difference because the slopes were windblown and icy, prompting an early retreat to the Breckenridge Brewery for India Pale Ale, onion rings, and burgers.

Training at the new job. I can take hands-on failure, try-try-again, but sitting in a stock room for four hours?after eight hours at a desk?listening to the hype and company propaganda that overshadows the actual product training makes for a very sleepy and very irritated boy. I'm on the floor tomorrow. Bring it on.

What started out as a great idea chugging down the tracks at eighty miles an hour has lost some steam as I debate and redebate the whole moving plan. Cons: down payments, mortgages, taxes, packing, furniture (or lack thereof). Pros: tabula rasa, independence, closer to work, shirtless movers (the weather has me optimistic at any rate).

I'm living it day-by-day and not even glancing in the general direction of my calendar because it's too much to bear: party tonight, work in the morning, party tomorrow night, work in the morning. Get up. Get down. Don't stop. My life is a never-ending dance track. I love it.

In lieu of my usual, pre-packaged dinner consisting of Ramen, tuna, and a bagel, I spent yesterday evening entertaining Brandie's two-year-old, Caitlin, at Zio's where we dined on shrimp and angel-hair pasta over brown-paper table coverings, much to the fortune and foresight of the restaraunteurs. She asked whether I'd ever want kids and, looking at the greasy mess Caitlin had made of herself and the paper tablecloth, I shook my head adminantly and replied, "Not until they figure out a way to Scotchguard them."

Afterwards, I started training for my new part-time job last night where I will be moonlighting as a sales rep for a recreational equipment retailer. The staff is very friendly and laid back, and the other new-hires are diverse and eager to start. There's a kind of quiet, contagious excitement that spreads with a smile or a glance or a nod, and it all confirms my decision to pick up the work as an easy way to wind down on the weekends and make a few friends and extra cash at the same time.

Yesterday's six inches of snow is completely melted under the ever-approaching, spring sun. I feel equally uncovered today.

Work, school, reading, games, and exercise. Hot water. Mix. Pour. Plans filled the square molds of my calendar quickly as though they resembled nothing of their gelled counterparts, threatening to overflow, and once they set it was time to start the engine of routine, that autopilot in my head that takes helm and dictates action based on a list of rules like a finite-state automaton.

And thus, I punched through the week, working because I have to, reading because I want to finish the book, gaming because I committed myself to completing it. Each activity was bland, tasteless, void of any meaning besides "getting it done."

I berate myself because this isn't living (further mental torment over my current situation provided by Thoreau). Really, the only thing I seem to be working towards or drawing any sort of motivation from lately is this remote idea of my future where I'll be financially, educationally, and professionally stable.

But enough ranting. Things are really falling into place, and I suppose the main thing is that I'm happy with where things are going. Sometimes I just have to punch through things to ignore this itch of malcontentedness that afflicts me periodically. I like to think it's a Sagittarius thing.

It was painless. One minute, we're talking about food, the next, we're talking about her best friend being gay. You know I'm gay, right? Oh, you do? Okay. Apparently, I tipped her off several weeks back when she spotted the Sheena postcard in my cube and I told her it was campy.

It feels good to know I have an ally and a friend at the workplace, even though I always said my sexuality wasn't something that needed to be discussed with my coworkers. It's great to finally be able to talk about all the boys at work. It's like waking up from a good dream and realizing you weren't dreaming, but that these good things are real.

In celebration of a new-found friend, Brandie came over after work and I rented Toy Story 2 for her two-year-old daughter, Caitlin, while we chatted over dinner. It was an opening of the flood gates, as three-year's worth of gossip and interests and stories spilled out onto the table.

Part of me is still a little wary about the situation. It feels as though I'm making my way down a steep, rocky incline and I need to be careful who I tell or the rocks will give way under me and I'll fall for miles. I know it's not nearly as bad as my mind makes it out to be, but all I can do is take it one step at a time. One way or another, I'll reach the bottom I suppose.

I had taken the day off to drive Lindsay to the airport for her flight to Germany. The plan was to go and come back. A simple, two-hour trip. I had absentmindedly wondered what I would do with an entire day off as I was driving away from the airport, when suddenly, I was on the phone, dialing my friends for lunch.

After a quick, two-hour shopping spree through several malls, Dave, Damen, and a friend of Dave's from work met me at Lime, a sheik neo-Mexican restaraunt decorated in minimalist white, green, and orange. Lunch was surprisingly good and the company even better, as Dave dished out the most recent gossip like Spanish tapas, each successive tidbit more tasty and sinfully decadent than the last.

As I was returning Damen to his mom's house, the thought crossed my mind to call my ex, Jeff, who I hadn't spoken to in almost six months. As I was contemplating the implications of this, my body had pulled the car to the side of the road and had dialed the phone. It wasn't until Jeff's voice resounded in my ear, that I forgot the mental debate and blurted out: "I'm in town. Want to have dinner?"

It was a pretty simple proposal and quickly accepted. We'd meet at five. I'd choose the place. Easy enough. But even though it was a gut decision to call him and I'm all about following my instincts lately, I felt anxious. It's been six months since we broke up and I still get this awful sour feeling inside my stomach whenever I think about him.

I whiled away the time at the mall until five, since consuming material items is an extremely effective method of distraction, though not very kind on the wallet. I bought Ivy's "Long Distance" and Final Fantasy X for my neglected PlayStation and moseyed around looking at this and that. Senses flooded with the heroin-like effects of credit-card swiping, I was suprirsed when I looked down at my watch and realized it was five.

We met at a nice steakhouse called Alexander's for some prime rib and red wine. Conversation was easy and after a short while my nervousness faded into the dimly lit surroundings. There was a reason I hadn't attempted to contact Jeff in such a long time, and that is because he is still hung up on me in a way, which he freely admitted. I had no intentions of rekindling any sort of romance and wanted to meet out of pure concern and curiosity over the doings in his life.

We finished dinner and wandered out into the snow to leave. Showing me his new Jeep, I got in and gently prodded reluctant enthusiasm out the doors of my mouth and eyes to play in the vapors of breath that rose in the only-recently-cold air, and when we went to hug, he wrapped his arms around me snugly and brushed his nose against my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed and I let myself relax into his hold, wishing that in a perfect world, perhaps I wouldn't have some feelings I was having, and that maybe I wouldn't have to drive home in the snow, that perhaps we could ride home in his Jeep with a towel over my legs and the thrill of newness and anticipation of exploration still fresh on our tongues.

Afterward, we congratulated him backstage for a virtually flawless performance and he glowed. It is wonderful to share in other people's victories and even better to know they freely choose to share them with you. For the first time in a long time, I felt a glimmer of attraction stir in the recesses of my head, incited by Tom's afterglow and, for a few seconds, I was seventeen again waiting at his door in my waiter's uniform, holding a bouquet of flowers.

The house is empty this week, and it's a great to be able to sit around in my underwear, sing out loud, cook whenever I want, and have free reign of the television (which I've made good use of after renting Rat Race, O, and Zoolander). Lindsay came over yesterday and I made lunch, futilely attempting to entertain her. She is to be excused, however, as she is riding the crimson wave this week and isn't of the most gracious disposition. I am, on the other hand, very grateful that I don't?nor will I ever?have to deal with that particular feminine problem on any other level than friendly support per the specific, serendipitous nature of my sexual preference.

Speaking of which, I contemplated the implications of attending a gay church service this morning, while driving around looking for a place to rent a violin. If you've ever attended one, please share your experiences.

A line taken from my email to Aaron the other night, feeling particularly poetic in light of good weather (which turned into big snow yesterday) and the recent turn of events. It's such a turn around from even a year ago when life seemed to be congealing around me from the cold weather and school, and the past few years have seemed a constant battle against stagnation. It took a few reflective moments and a few kind words from friends to show me that stillness is illusory.

As typical and uncreative as it may sound, I've decided to take a break this summer from graduate school to regain some focus. The only risk in doing this, however, is getting so caught up in the routine of work that I end up absorbing the extra time and energy like a sponge. Just something to keep in mind.

My hands and feet are growing tough and calloused from climbing and lifting weights. I feel like a construction worker or farmer. I feel damn sexy.

I stuttered a few seconds before exhaling an "Oh, great," as it's been about four years since I have heard those particular words directed at me. We finalized everything over the phone. Yes, I'd be there next week for training. Yes, I'm ready. Thank you.

Not that I need one, but a part-time, weekend job would make the current financial load easier to swallow, not to mention offer me a chance to make a few new acquaintances and walk off with some toys to boot; the new position is with a recreational equipment retailer.

It has slowly bled through the fibers of everyday life but the realization that I seem to have drifted towards the whole climbing-and-mountaineering bit really hit me hard this past weekend. I would have never anticipated any sort of interest in the area two years ago, but it has grown to a more-than-weekly activity.

I had this in mind when applying for the new job last week. Starting will almost be like starting a new chapter in my life since change hasn't come around these parts lately. It's thrilling, in a way, to know that there are so many other side-worlds such as this one, awaiting exploration.

The university there has the most amazing architecture. Freshman year, I spent a semester there and have faced slight pangs of regret for having left to move to Denver, although I always reassure myself that I wouldn't be where I am right now had I stayed. Walking across the winter-whipped campus, I kept recalling events and people and Cale was kind enough to shoulder my stories.

It was good spending time with Derek, too, who will never cease humbling me with his open, benevolent nature. His presence continually reminds me that the world is okay. It's not clear if I'll ever be able to provide an bastion of support equal to the mountainous psychological foundation he provides for me and so I look for cheap ways to recompense by spending money on him and offering advice whenever I can. I know in my heart that it's nowhere near enough, but sometimes I feel that's all I have to offer anyone.

Sometimes things work out so well in life that your brain runs circles, devising ways of tricking itself into believing that what is happening is really imaginary. Then again, sometimes things in life don't work out so well and your brain does the same to convince itself that things aren't nearly as poorly drawn as they seem. Is this real, or are we simply imagining imaginings, dreaming of dreams, pretending to pretend?

Obscurity aside, recent events have transpired with such precision that I often find myself confused and bewildered. Is it possible I'm dreaming? Seemingly inauspicious outcomes have proven more favorable after lending time a bit of space to toil at the anvil. It's times like this, which reaffirm my shaky conclusion that time fixes everything. Time is the ultimate smith.

Sometimes, things fall apart and, sometimes, things come together. Everything is in a perpetual state of creation upon creation upon creation. Whether we are imagining this creation is irrelevant, I suppose.

That we are audience to a most remarkable craftsman and able to comprehend this work should be gratifying enough, but to fully release our grip and let life fall where it will is a greater capacity.

At lunch, a toddler runs past our table and waves with a ridiculously large smile on his face. You can't help but laugh at the open display of naive friendliness. I wave back with what is sure to be an equally ridiculous grin. The restaurant is under his reign as he clumsily cavorts across the green tiles without falling, as only a toddler can, and flips through a key chain as big as his head, randomly choosing one that will fit the lock on the front door. The key is bigger than his fist, but somehow, those small hands manage to slide it into the keyhole. He turns and flips his tiny body around, but the door doesn't register the effort in the slightest. I can't hide my smile and think, "One of these days, don't give up."

Kids in cars. Kids hiding in small spaces, conspiring. Kids coming out of their winter shells as the weather warms, to play in the adult world. I play with my adult belongings and conspire with my adult friends, but I feel as though I'm still exploring a world that is made for a different kind of person, the kind that's better equipped for life.

Someday, kiddo.

After a few months of struggling to get my own web server up and running, I've finally decided that the do-it-yourself phase is officially over and I went out and bought some commercial hosting space. Setting up the server was a great learning experience, but it has also taught me that it's worth spending a few bucks a month for someone else to maintain the availability of your site.

I lost one entry?the one recapping Derek's birthday weekend in Las Vegas?due to a missed backup on my part. I probably won't attempt to rewrite it, but at the same time, I feel as though the site is continuing incomplete. It's really amazing how much these quick entries begin to mean to you. I suppose it's the weight I put behind them in my mind and am wondering if maybe I should reprioritize.

Had a footwork technique clinic on Thursday at the climbing gym. Saw 40 Days and 40 Nights on Friday with Lindsay. Caught up with my Chinese class and made a few dates for the week. It was a good weekend.

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