Okay, so it's 3:00 am and I just spent the evening talking food, cakes, kitchens, and beds with one of my culinary school friends. On my way to bed I checked my HotOrNot rating because I posted a new photo today. Oh, did someone order me an ego boost!? That was SO SWEET of you! It's not even my birthday!

 

9.9
My best rating yet. I know it's only going to drop from here, but I want to breath that in for a moment before the vinegar soaks in!

Goodnight!

So exhausted that I don't even know why I'm awake and typing this.

My school schedule is 6:30am - noon every weekday. In order to pass the class you really NEED to be there at least half an hour early to get your mis-en-place (all your tools and ingredients) set up. In order to do really well you need to show up at least an hour early. I'm the "needs to do really well" type, so I wake up every morning at 4:45 in order to be to my 102 class by 5:30. It's grand.

Now my program is "cooking" which is different from baking. I love to bake, however, and stayed after school one day and schmoozed one of the Baking and Patisserie chefs into allowing me to sit in on her class even though I'm not on the attendance sheet. Her class is from 5:30pm to 10:30pm. It's the most fun class ever. Tonight we started baking breads, and did a simple milk-bread which is OhMyGodDelicious.

I still work for CareTech, however, and they dropped my hours to 20 per week, that is perfect for that five-and-a-half hour span between when I get done with Culinary Arts at noon and start Baking and Patisserie at 5:30. That leaves me six hours and fifteen minutes between when I get done with school and when I start school again. In that time I need to fit everything else. Homework, exercise (I'm still trying to run 3 miles a day), cooking at home (I made delicious rock biscuits tonight), hygeine (it's amazing how hard it can be to find time for a shower sometimes, but I'm determined not to skip it!), and sleep, which is the most often neglected item.

Somebody remind me that I have three letters I need to write soon. And now, to bed!

1996
We hid out behind the church, skipping service to walk with each other, too shy to talk or hold hands. When it was time to go home and our parents were calling us, I finally worked up the courage to grab her hand and look her in the eye. I was too scared to talk, or even stammer. Her name was Jessica.
"Aren't you going to kiss me?" She asked?
My mouth dropped open, my head swam, I couldn't move. She grabbed my neck, pulled me down more than a foot and kissed me solidly on the mouth. My first kiss ever.
"I'll see you in September! Bye bye!" She chirped and pranced off to her parents van. She left the next day to spend the summer in Texas, but we dated for exactly three years from that day. Smooth, huh?

1999
I'd planned all week what I was going to say to her tonight, but the image of her hearing me out and then slapping me across the face, or even worse, throwing up, paralyzed me. I asked her to take a walk with me, intending on finding the courage to ask her out while we were walking. I didn't. We got back to her house and finally, just before it was time to go I choked out the words.
"D-d-d-do do you th-think you might like to b-be my g-girlfriend? I m-mean, if it's okay w-with you?"
She said yes. My second girlfriend and the first time I managed to ask a girl out directly. Actually, it's even worse than the deer-in-the-headlights reaction from three years earlier, but it was a huge step for me.

2002
Tabitha: "If you don't ask her out this weekend I'm going to twist off your balls and feed them to you."
I took her pretty seriously. I'd been telling Tabitha for weeks how in love with Alexis I was, and she'd finally gotten sick of hearing about it. She was butch enough that I don't think she'd have had even the slightest trouble following through with her threat. That weekend I took Alexis on an all-day walk through the February snow. We held hands, I stopped and kissed her twice. In the end I didn't really ask her.
"I'm really happy that you are my girlfriend now." She blushed, smiled, and we made out until we were late getting home. Despite the approach, I was on the edge of puking with nervousness that entire day.

2005
For three months Rebecca and I spent every minute of the day together, from when we both arrived at work, through lunch, and every minute after work until it was late enough we'd be exhausted at work the next day. She was waiting for me to man up enough to ask her out, but not giving me the surety I needed that she wouldn't reject me. Looking back I see it, but I couldn't do it. That lasted until Carri told me that I was her new boyfriend. No progress in those three years. :(

2006
After a holiday party at a friend's house, Melissa tripped over me where I slept on the floor. She fell beside me, I threw my arm over her and we snuggled until breakfast. I gave her a ride home and she said to me "I've never had a boyfriend before." Another where I didn't make the first move, although, in this case I was pretty much blindsided.

I've gotten a little bit better since then. I still have a lot of anxiety about it.

Today
Aeryn stopped me in the hall to chat. It was her last day at culinary school. We talked for a few minutes and when Willet jumped in to talk to me, she hung around expectantly, but then excused herself and wandered off. As I was walking out of the building with Willet it struck me... she was waiting for me to make some kind of a move. I just walked away from it! "Doh, you moron!" So I turned around and went back in. When I found her she was surrounded by classmates and her instructor, I had to shoulder my way through the crowd. This is my worst scenario, with everyone around to see and hear.
"Hey, Aeryn, what time do you get done today?"
"Um, three."
"Let me take you for ice cream after."
"I'd like that." She smiled beautifully. A few of her classmates looked at me funny.

That was particularly difficult for me, because I find black women to be generally intimidating.


Tonight
As I was pushing my shopping cart through the produce section a pretty lady tried to step out of my way as I pushed my cart out of her way, right into each other's way again. We laughed, passed each other and after I was into the pasta isle it struck me. God, she was incredibly cute! Luckily she passed me again just a moment later. I summoned her with a finger.
"You are just ridiculously cute. Do you have someone who tells you so regularly?"
"Omigod, that is so sweet! I do, but thank you so much!" She blushed bright red.
"Of course you do, I couldn't be so lucky as to find a woman who looked like you AND is also single!" I winked at her and offered my hand. "Hi, I'm Gabriel."


It gets easier. It's depressing that it took me 27 years to get to this point, I tend to think that a lot of guys have that at 18, but right now I'm just happy to be this far!

A few days ago I said I would post another assignment from my English class. This assignment was to compare and contrast two celebrities. I just couldn't see myself writing about sports figures or ex presidents, so here is something slightly more entertaining.

So in 2007 my sister Anna asked me to escort her to a photo shoot. While she was changing the photographer asked me if he could take some shots of me. I said "sure" and loved how they turned out. I had a total of one shoot in 2007. In 2008 I had a total of two shoots. Now in 2009 I had one shoot in January, and three for this week! Two of these are my first PAID shoots. I'm really excited.

Last night I had the first of my three this week. It was a TFP shoot (Trade for Prints - neither I nor the photographer gets paid, we both just get prints to use in our portfolios), and the results were really good. Between 5:30 and 8:30 we took about 400 photos of me around the UT campus. Obviously I'm not going to use them all, but there were enough good ones that it is a hard choice to pick out my favorites.

I have one shoot coming up for a greeting card company, for their 2009 Halloween line. That was originally supposed to be tonight and / or Friday night, but the photographer asked me if we could do Sunday instead. 

The other is for a hair salon. They are putting together a new coffee table book, so I get to spend the morning having their stylists play with my hair. When I was little I always wondered who the people in those photos were, and if their friends ever came into the salon and saw their pictures. Now I'll be the guy in those pictures. It's not the same as having my picture on a 40 foot long Tommy Hilfiger ad in a Paris subway station, but it's a start.

The crazy thing for me is that I never once considered that I was good enough looking to be a model. When I had my first shoot I didn't consider myself a model, I considered myself a guy who got lucky and modeled once. I certainly never considered that I would be paid for it. After the shoot last night, though, two things happened that kind of made my head spin a little bit. First, as we were walking from the campus to our cars, the photographer said to me, "Let me ask you a question, why do you still do TFP shoots? Normally models of your profile are pretty booked up with people who want to pay them." I  told him the truth, basically what I just typed here about my experience. The second thing was that as I walked off the campus a girl who was walking with two guys walked straight out of her conversation to say hi to me. One of the guys with her was obviously pissed, and the other obviously amused. The second also said "hi" to me when they caught up with the girl. I just flashed the three of them my friendliest smile, said "Hey there!" and kept walking and talking to the photographer. I'm pretty much overwhelmed with my sudden popularity. I never expected it, didn't go looking for it, and really am not sure how to handle it.
But...
I've GOTTA start dressing up like that more often.

( I was dressed like this... )


P.S. - Tomorrow I've got another English paper for you, hopefully just as entertaining as the first, but a little more thought provoking. In a nonsense kind of a way.

 In my English class my professor assigned a "Process Paper" in which each student was to write a five paragraph essay describing how to do something. The suggested topic was "How to Host a Memorable Memorial Day Picnic". Blah. I hope you will find my process more entertaining.

---

So...
Texas.
Cooking School.

I love being here, it's much warmer than Michigan and I'm totally cool with that. In fact, it FEELS hotter than Taipei felt even though I know it is not. I SWEAT here and that was a notable occurrance in Taiwan, it didn't happen every day. I've gotten sunburnt already, and I'm getting tanned. Sunburn is not a new experience for me, but not peeling off to be albino white sure is.

The school is pretty intense. I'm in class 36 hours every week. I'm not the top of my class either, that spot is held by an over-achieving asian. Two of them actually. They are really only over-achievers because they are beating me, and not in the good way. I'm learning loads of material, though. More than I actually knew there was to know about cooking.
I have learned to like onions. I think my mother and grandmother will both have heart attacks when they find out, so please don't tell them.
I have learned to like mushrooms. At this point my mother will be wondering who went to the trouble of replacing me with an actor but not taking the time to find out that I mortally despise mushrooms and onions.
I have learned to eat celery without cursing. I don't know what to tell you about this one. I still make funny faces, but I'm sure that will change soon enough.
My most recent class is Nutrition 101, in which I'm learning how to write proper diet plans, and what foods contain what nutrients, what nutrients actually do what for you, what problems you develop if you consume too much or too little of certain nutrients, and how to replace traditional ingredients with healthier choices. I'm having to memorize what percentages of food has to be grown in what scenarios for the label to say "Natural", "Pure", or "Organic" and how that changes if it has the USDA stamp on it. It's crazy, really. Did you know that the pesticide used for bananas in the US and most of central America is a derivitive of a nerve gas developed during WWI?

So with so much time going into school, I haven't been concentrating on work as much as I should. I've still been putting in a lot of hours, just not doing nearly my normal quality of work. I think this is really not about the hours I put in at school, though, I think I'm just lonely. I thought I'd be able to work from home just fine, and I think I would if I had someone I liked living with me, but I freaking miss going into an office and working with the people you know... AT WORK. It's pretty serious, I'm considering finding a job here, it will probably pay less than I'm making now, but I kinda feel like I'm not really giving my old job what it's worth, and I think it's totally because of the office / home situation.

Aside from school and work, I've picked up karate again, and I'm running now. Except for the past two weeks, in which I seem to have ticked off the SpiderGod for the second time. When I was in Taiwan I got bit by some giant spider that started eating away at the flesh on my stomach. I got a cream from a pharmacist there that fixed it, but it took a long time. Now about two weeks ago I walked through a spider nest and got more than 150 little bites on my stomach and sides. It itched like CRAZY, and I swole up a bit, and I just stopped going to karate and running during that time. I'm starting up again Monday, and going to be somebody's personal trainer! Woo! As a personal trainer I really want to make my students LOVE running, and I think the only way they will do that is to see visible progress. So... my plan is to have her run with me the first day until she is exhausted, and then I'll write a running schedule based on how long she can run before she has to start walking again, running three times a week and each week increasing the number of seconds run and decreasing the number walked. Hopefully in 8 weeks I'll be able to have her running three miles without stopping to walk. Yay for goals!

Finally, I'm still working on the rope-woven sofa that I promised to post photos of. I took the two weeks of spider-bite itchy pain off from weaving as well, but I'm back on it now. I've completely unwoven it and started over once already, so it may be a while before I have photos I'm willing to show. Well there you have it folks, I'm not dead and DO still post to LJ when someone reminds me to!

My current project is a sofa. I'm building the frame out of PVC and rope, and weaving the seating itself out of rope. I will probably wish I'd gone with wicker or cane and rush, but I'm lazy. I'll post pictures of that soon.

Next up, though... I want to do a ship in a bottle, but I want it to be the Millenneum Falcon from Star Wars or Serenity from Firefly. Anybody have any ideas on how to get that done?

So I was asked to post some more pictures of my recent projects, and since I don't want to smother my FaceBook in photos I'll probably never look at again, I'll do that here.

( Steampunkish? projects ) 

They were just serpentine boxes on a GPS screen when the red streak and the green streak collided, but in my head the impact of hundreds of tons of steel was deafening. You’d have thought a grenade had gone off beside me the way I dropped and covered. Slowly and tentatively I stood back up, checking myself for injury. I stared at the little screen in horror, and leaned in to find those red and green streaks. They were not moving.

Oh God! I had caused those trains to crash.

There is one road, with one lane, and it shouldn’t take a scientist to figure out that you can’t put two trains going opposite directions on that track, but this is exactly what I’d done.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. What do I do?

Well, I should have called my boss and tell him what happened. Instead I laid down covered my head with my blanket.

A minute passed, then five. Then the lights went out. Oh God! What did I do? This must really be serious! I leapt out of bed and sent my cell phone sailing in my mad scrambling for it.

Contact List. Karl. Dial.

I’m literally gasping for air.

“Due to a national emergency, all circuits are busy. Please do not panic, and tune in to your local television news channel for further instructions.”

Oh God! This is my fault! What was on those trains!? Where is my damn cargo manifest?

Redial! Go through, damn you! GO THROUGH!

“RING”

For any who don't know, I have a new girlfriend. And I'm acting more stressed and insecure than I have been since Alexis. I'm a very physical kind of person, which is second only to how emotionally close I want to be to my lover. My new girlfriend, however, is more independent and stand-offish than any girl I've ever been close to, much less dated. There has been a huge learning curve for me. It's terribly uncomfortable, but I think I need to learn to be comfortable with a person who doesn't want to share their most intimate everything with me. I may choose in the end that I want someone with the same desire for intimacy I have, but I must get over my need for it.

It frustrates me a lot that she has made me promise to tell her before things get bad, if I am not feeling satisfied in the relationship, which I have done. This seems to stress her out and she confessed to feeling that I was trying to control her by asking her to share that part of herself with me. I backed off. I have been trying to stress to her that it is okay for her to want different things than I want, if I tell her I want something I would rather she say "no" and tell me she wants something different than for her to avoid the topic. For real, I'll just have to take her answer and get over it, which I can't do if I don't know that she isn't being up front with me.

Tonight she called me and unloaded some of her frustrations on me for the first time since we actually met in real life. It felt pretty wonderful to me. It was at least some kind of sharing, and I felt like it was a show of trust, that she was going to let me see the things that bothered her. I felt happy, honored, and privileged that she was letting me back in again. I don't even know what I did to lose that spot of her being able to talk to me, but I'm excited that it might be over, and I might be someone she talks to and unloads on again.

Anyway, what really kicked my insecurities back into gear was reading a post from one of her best friends on FaceBook saying that this friend was having guy problems and read that my girlfriend's relationship wasn't working out either. I SO want to ask her about that statement on her wall. Is she posting for her friends to read the frustrations that she asked me to talk to her about directly? For real, instead of talking to me about them? But then, I also DON'T want to ask her about it, because I'm worried that asking about it would tick her off, as in "what the hell am I doing looking into her business" kind of thing. And DAMN, if one of my friends posted this, I would SO tell him to get his head on straight and find someone who wanted the same things he wanted. I would say that from the one sided story I just read, she's not at all ready for what he's ready for. I would say that her independent and isolated nature, and deep need for privacy is only going to foster a climate that is hard for open and honest communications, which I feel are vital to a relationship.

For some reason though, I WANT this one to work out in a way I haven't wanted since I was dating Alexis. It is REALLY messing me up.

Oh, and on top of that I just randomly started spitting up blood, what the hell?

I love books. I have quite a few of them, and among them are a number of college text books (for classes which I never took) and “self-help” titles. Looking back at this collection shows the path of my interests.

A while after Alexis (my ex-wife) took off, and when my relationship with Carri was coming to an end, I started collecting pick-up books. These books had suggestions and methods for getting a girls attention, and getting her to like me. I certainly had no idea how to attract a woman at this time, so studying seemed like a good place to start.

Next there came a stack of self-esteem titles, mostly geared toward getting over being shy. I wasn’t shy in general; I had already forced myself over that issue by taking choir and theatre. I was, however, terribly shy when it came to meeting women. I discovered this particular brand of shyness was called “approach anxiety”, and could really be a phobia. You women have no idea just how scary your rejection can be!

After approach anxiety the next few titles were pick-up books again, this collection more geared toward getting a girl into bed with me. These titles were immediately followed by a few books on physiology and sexual technique.

At this point I took a hiatus from the reading to go put in some serious field time. I was somewhat successful, but definitely tended to lean toward emotional relationships more than purely sexual relationships. A lot of self-reflection (and reflection with other’s help) influenced my next set of books to be psychology books. These were both geared toward figuring out what the heck I want out of myself, and toward learning how to relate to other people by being caring and listening. Topics which I think a lot of people are absolutely convinced they are much better at than they really are

One of the most painful things I had to accept is that in general, women really do respond more attentively and work much harder to please a man who is a jerk to them than they will for a man who treats her well. I’ve tested this again and again and find it to be true nearly straight across the board. I hated it and didn’t like to think that I would have to be a jackass to keep a woman interested, so add a stack of books specifically about female psychology, and basically discover that male and female authors alike agree that I’m just going to have to learn to deal with it.

Well, that brings me to right now, when I realized my last few purchases were specifically about maintaining a relationship once it has been started, and keeping long-term relationships (marriages) from growing complacent. I never really did the playboy thing, and a small piece of me wants to. I had a rough couple of days figuring out and accepting that I’m gearing up toward marriage again. It’s not a bad thing, I knew in the back of my mind I would want to get there again, I just didn’t think my subconscious mind had built a step-plan for it.

La déception tombe
comme la cendre de crematorium
empoisonnant mon âme

 

I’ve never been good at making the wise choice. If there is a hedonistic choice, more than likely it is the one I will choose. Sometimes, I don’t get to choose, though, and when wisdom, restraint, and clear thinking are forced on me, I get frustrated and angry.

I hate it when I know in my head that something is smart, but I can’t make my heart accept it. I get so bitter and ugly.

I haven't had a photo shoot for a long time, but jumped back into it almost on a whim. Somebody told me "Hey, you should try being a model." And I though "Yeah, I did that once or twice, and it was fun. I should try it." So I did. I had one shoot this past Saturday and have another this coming Saturday.

I've also turned down a number of porn offers. Who'd have thought?

( See some highlights... )

I don't know how many times I've had to explain this, but this time is just for my own entertainment. As a guy it really is not hard to avoid peeing on your hands. You simply don't have to do it unless you want to. I don't want to.

I get funny looks when I walk into a public restroom, wash my hands, dry them, and then pee. Sometimes people ask me if I don't have it backwards. I do not. My dick has been in my underwear since my morning shower. I haven't used it, it's still clean. My hands, however, have been touching everything since I washed them in the morning shower.

I know that I'm not going to pee on my hands. But jeez, I don't have it backwards, don't you want to wash your hands before you touch your genitals with them???

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

They ring out like little gunshots, echoing off the walls and down the halls and alley ways. I could never sneak up on anybody in these boots. I picked them up in Taipei, they were handmade and have no logo, no size, no anything to suggest who made them or where. And they are by far the coolest boots I've ever owned. I paid $85 US for them and I'd gladly pay that same price again. They look like what you would expect from a Jules Verne story. Gentlemen's riding boot's with a strange dose of cowboy, biker, and spaceman thrown in, the perfect Steampunk themed footware. AND they had wooden soles so they made this amazing "clacking" sound as I walked down any hard surfaced avenue. Everyone turned to look at me. Who is that guy who walks so loudly?

Unfortunately for me, that wooden sole with it's beautiful clacking sound was quick to wear down. While it was interesting to see where they wore down (I am REALLY duck-footed) it eventually damaged my balance. BUT... all was not lost! I randomly passed a sign that said "Shoe Repair" in NYC, while wearing this very pair of boots. I walked in and asked about a new sole, and the guy quoted me $18. Seriously? $18? Can you do it right now? Whoa, seriously, only 30 minutes? Sweet!

Now my boots look brand new, and I was happy as a clam in sauce (what a weird expression, right?). It took me 15 minutes to realize that my newly soled boots were soled by ninja. I could sneak up on myself in these. The new sole is rubber, hard rubber, but super silent. I have to admit, the boots are more comfortable than before, but... well... I'd rather have that clacking sound.

Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh.

So for the past two weeks I've known that I would be up all night tonight. Tomorrow is the go-live when we start running helpdesk services for a hospital here in NYC, and we've got a crapload of word to do tonight. Partway through a conference call I got a list of who wanted what to eat / drink, excused myself and made a run on the deli on the corner.

Energy drinks.

LOTS of energy drinks.

I got back and they had decided that I could go to bed. My body is ready to collapse and sleep, but... I really should have waited until I was back to pop that can of caffeine. I'm sure this is karmic retribution for something I did. It's the kind of thing I would do to me if I were God instead of me.


Hmmm...
Actually, it's a very good thing for the world that I'm not God. It's also a good thing I haven't got any super powers. Sad for me, but good for everyone else.

Goodnight.
P.S. -- Kate, I bought you a present. ;)

This is possibly the coolest pair of spectacles I've ever purchased. I bought them at a Gothic Clothier for $5.49 after taxes. God bless New York City.
Click the picture once for a bigger size, then again for ridiculously large.

So it's 11pm and I'm surrounded by eight million of my closest friends, but I'm sitting by myself in my hotel room, lonely and bored. I keep trying to go outside and wander the city, but don't make it more than three blocks before the cold changes my mind. But I'm going to go crazy inside so I put my coat back on and make up my mind on a Greek diner only a block and a half down. I've been there once before, about six weeks ago, before cutting off twelve inches of my hair. I walk in and a pretty hostess smiles at me, "Go ahead and sit wherever you like, honey."

I pulled up a stool at the counter, thinking it will be a bit more social then taking a table. I wasn't there for more than a minute before an old man walked up, looking for all the world like he had the key to the city of New York in his pocket and the title and deed for the island of Crete in a safe at home.
"Wassa madda, dey kicka you outa Detroit? Whendi you come back?"
"Haha, yeah, Detroit doesn't like me anymore, I'll be here about two..."
"You beena hee-ah two weeks ana dis is da firs time you come back!? Shame all ova you! Do you rememba Aaron? Aaron, dis isa my good frien from Detroit. I don rememba you name, but I rememba yous from Detroit, what was it, Gabriel or someting? I  hava great memory for da faces."

Well, no, I don't remember Aaron at all, actually, but heck...
"Yeah, it's Gabriel, you really do have a great memory, and you even recognized me after I cut my ponytail off, good job!
Hey Aaron, good to see you again!"
"Hey man, what's up? Here's a menu, what can I get you?"
"Oh, your boss makes an excellent salad dressing, but I can't remember what it is..."

Your boss is also skilled in the art of interruption, I thought that was an Italian trait, but I guess Greek in New York City has a share on that too.
"Ah, I rememba you tella me you like-ah that lasstime! DANNY! YOU MAKA MY MIXA GREEN SALA WID DA BALSAMICA FOR MY FRIEN HERE!"

Ooh, easy on the eardrums there, pal, Danny's only on the other side of that window, we can  both see him from here.
"Heh, sounds great, I'll have the mixed green salad with balsamic, thanks Aaron, and if you could would you make it without..."

"Oh dassa right, you no like-ah da onions! Aaron, you tella Danny nodda put onions on it." And with that the old man grabbed his cellphone and ran to the back.

Wow, that was almost unreal. I was here for an hour, once, six weeks ago. He remembered me, remembered where I was from and my name, remembered my order, and remembered the no onions. The feelings "special" and "creeped out" both took a run at my mind.

When the old man came back he introduced me to the rest of his staff. Aaron was from Mexico and didn't understand English very well, except that his English was as perfect as mine, no hispanic flavor to it, he could have grown up in Detroit for all I heard. There was Saki, and if you guessed that he was from Japan you'd be right. And there was Andy who was probably 60 years old and stood almost seven feet tall. There was Victor who delivered telephone orders on bicycle, he was a short skinny guy with a ponytail and a voice like the Taco Bell Chihuahua, NOT from Mexico, born and raised in Manhattan. And finally there was Jenny, the pretty hostess. They all barraged me with their life stories while asking me questions about mine. I got out a LOT of "Well I'm..." before the same person or another launched in again. Normally that would bother me a lot, but this time it was really relaxing.

There were three or four other tables in while I was there, and three or four other people at the bar. None of them got that kind of attention. I really am completely clueless as to what brought it to me. As I left they all got up to shake my hand. They wished me well with culinary school, which I told them, but didn't really do more than mention. They wished me well with modeling, which I don't remember telling them about at all, and told me that I'm going to be great at anything I try to do.

After that surreal experience I have no idea what to say. If you ever go to Moonrock Diner on 57th and 9 in midtown Manhattan try the balsamic vinegar salad dressing. The old man (George) makes it himself and its delicious. Also buy a slice of carrot cake, it's the best I've ever tasted.

I think I'll be going back there again.

Dear Dad,

I've always felt like I was a failure, like I wasn't really good enough. It made me so angry that you loved me anyway, and no matter how poorly I did it didn't disappoint you. I was begging you to justify my feelings. I was furious that you would not give me a real expectation that I could fall short of. If you had then I really would be a failure and it wouldn't just be a messed up thought in my head.

You are perfect at everything you do. You consistently make good choices. When you do something wrong you apologize and try to make it right even before it's sunk in that what you did could hurt. I can't live up to that. I mess up and so many of my choices are bad ones. When I get hurt I want to lash out and hurt someone else.

When I was young I felt like you weren't there for me. You were around but I couldn't connect to you. I watch you interact with my siblings now, and you work so hard to connect with me. I can see how you've changed even during my own life. There are so many things that I want to be angry at you for, but you've fixed them all, and mostly before I was able to figure out that I was angry about them. It doesn't take away my anger, though, just my outlet for it.

I see where you came from, I see how messed up your siblings lives and families are. I hate that you were strong enough to rise above that, because you gave me every advantage you didn't have and I'm still not strong enough to rise above it. I want to blame you because I'm so messed up, but you never give me anything to be angry at. I don't know what to do with it.


I love you,
I hate you,
You're my idol,
'Gabriel