I turned thirty a few months ago, and I’ve had a hard time with it. I don’t mourn the loss of my youth—I know LOTS of folks who are youthful and vigorous in their forties—I just had a nagging sense of wonderment. I wondered when I grew up. I am still sometimes shocked that I am an adult. I’ve been one for twelve years already (at least legally, on paper), but I’ve never taken myself seriously. I still feel like I’m doing something wrong when I go into a liquor store… I’m usually pretty sure they are going to ask me to leave. I also feel strange traveling. Make no mistake. By the time I was eighteen, I was a pro at airports. Because of our school schedules, my sister and I flew to join my parents on vacation when I was only 16. We drove to the airport, got on a plane in Houston, and flew to California, all without any parental oversight at all. This was not uncommon for me, nor was it very heroic, but I STILL think it was pretty cool, and that was almost half my lifetime ago. For some reason, whenever I travel, make a major purchase, or any other really “adult-type thing,” I feel like a little kid, that I don’t belong doing what I’m doing. I literally can’t believe they are letting me spend grown-up amounts of money, or letting me be responsible for thier car or hotel room. I AM a bit more comfortable being a grown up than I used to be. As I grow older, I think folks take me much more seriously than they did in the past, and I likewise take myself more seriously. It’s one of the privileges of growing older, I guess.

There’s got to be SOME kind of good to come from it, because I am sometimes SO STIFF when I get out of bed in the morning, and I find myself requiring more sleep than I used to. Mom says that gets much worse. YUCK! At least I’ll be taken seriously when I complain about it.

Hey there, loyal readers! This is a little article that Kim Holzer published over at her site a couple of weeks ago. I hope you like it. Kim edited it a bit, and did a great job. Thanks, Kim!
I spent the weekend around gay people. Even better, I spent the weekend in Oak Lawn, the gay part of Dallas. I know that since I am a gay person, this might not be entirely shocking, but it was different this weekend. For those of you who may not know, most major cities have some part of town that has a concentration of businesses and establishments that cater to gay people. I like such areas because when I am there, I don't feel as “different” as I do when I am in mixed company.

My first few visits to places that were predominately gay, such as community centers and (yes Mom) bars, were very freeing and liberating. I felt as if I had found my people. I still remember how good it felt to find a place where I belonged. If I thought a guy was cute, I could say so to my new friends, and they would agree with me, instead of running me out of town with torches. I learned a lot about myself, and what it meant to be gay. In short, I came out.

I have always liked visiting gay areas. The term "gay ghetto" is an anachronism. Since they are usually near downtown, the real estate in such areas has become very desirable and expensive. Contrary to popular belief, there aren’t just bars in such a part of town. There are plenty of those, but often a community center and a bevy of restaurants and little shops that sell things like highly attractive decorative accessories and tacky, tacky disco clothes. These shops and eateries are usually fun to browse and get in a good dose of people watching. Larger cities with populations over a million or so have grocery stores and chain retailers, usually a Target, in the gay areas. During the eighties, the rise of HIV and AIDS prompted the opening of doctor's offices, clinics and pharmacies in the gay areas. The more-pleasant nineties also saw the addition of gay-focused bookshops and coffeehouses, as well. In short, larger cities have a little self-contained community just for gay people and the people who love them.

When I lived in Dallas, I would sometimes catch myself not leaving Oak Lawn for months at a time. It was my home; my friends, job and church were all there. I had no reason to leave, so I didn't.

Last year, I moved back to my hometown of 15,000 people, and the closest thing we have to a gay part of town is my apartment. I miss my friends, but I didn't realize until this weekend that I missed Oak Lawn, too. It was nice not to have to watch what I say and do. I miss the unspoken camaraderie that exists. I'm not saying that life in Oak Lawn is entirely wonderful. In fact, there is a larger than average crime rate and it's not the cheapest place to live, but it was home for me and my friends. Some may say that increasing acceptance of gay people has rendered such areas obsolete. Indeed, there is an increasing trend to locate bars and businesses well into the suburbs. I think this is good thing, and I support it. But it's still fun to go to our own little de-militarized zone and hold hands with another boy while I'm shopping for tacky, tacky disco clothes and sipping overpriced coffee.

Today, I’m going to tell you about a lady I’ll call Pam. Pam is a friend of my mother’s, and very accomplished in her job. But that is a very small part of who she is. Pam is first and foremost a mother. She has three children, and they are the light of her life. If you were to see her talk about them, you wouldn’t be able to debate this fact. If there is a school or sporting event that conflicts with her regular work schedule, she will work another time. Pam is a devoted wife and mother. She’s also deaf, or rather, she used to be. At the age of six, Pam was stricken with meningitis. She lost the hearing in one ear completely, and her right ear began to steadily lose hearing. More than thirty years later, she had less than three percent hearing in her right ear. Pam reads lips and, partly because of her late, or postlinguistic, loss of hearing, can speak quite intelligibly. She communicates beautifully, and is easy to talk to. She’s able to email and fax most anyone not in the room with, and so leads a very typical life. About six weeks ago, Pam informed us that she wouldn’t be around for a while. She was going to have a cochlear implant. Today was her first day back to work, and it was interesting to hear what she was experiencing. She is in awe of the everyday sounds that we take for granted. She said she did not realize how loud a toilet flush is, or what music sounded like. She is able to hear her fax machine beep when she receives a fax, and believes that she will one day be able to use the phone again, something that she has been unable to do since she was a teenager. The one noise she told me she loved was her children’s laughter. For Pam, the pain and expense has been worth it. Just like anything else, though, there is a negative aspect. Along with the joys of laughter and birds singing, she is also inundated with the everyday background noise of life. Traffic is a bad noise for her, as is a restaurant full of people during the dinner rush. These times, she is literally in sensory overload. Of course, she will eventually get used to these everyday noises, much as we have grown accustomed over the years, but (here it comes… you all know me pretty well… say it with me…) it really got me thinking. We are so accustomed to our lives and the way we experience it, that we accept our familiarity as the norm. That is quite appropriate because, for you, that IS your reality. But sometimes, if you look at a situation in a fresh new way, you will see that there are many possible truths for that given situation. Pam is experiencing a different reality, and her life is becoming richer because of it. My goal this week is to look at my patterns of perception and see how I can change and improve my life for the better. It’s spring, so I guess I need to shift my paradigms around and see what I come up with. After all, we may be able to hear, but how well do we listen?

HP has these new commercials that I find hilarious. They talk about fame, and how our society is obsessed with it. They point out in the commercial that even chefs are celebrities nowadays. The ad goes on to say that people such as inventors are the people who are actually changing our lives and making a difference, not the boy bands (theirs is called “Down 2 Earth”) and the fitness gurus. For as long as people have been selling, advertising has been a reflection of the society to which they sell. I find this to be a fascinating way of studying sociology, and, in this case at least, quite accurate. I don’t know when I realized it, but I’m never going to be rich and famous. The great thing about this is that I’m fine with that. I don’t want to be adored by millions. Fame is just too expensive. I don’t want the scrutiny that the National Enquirer or the Internet brings. I don’t want to have to worry about my appearance so much that I’m consumed by it, and I don’t care what Joan Rivers or Mr. Blackwell thinks of my clothes. I simply know that kind of life is NOT for me. Most any lottery winner will tell you that, while mega-money solves a lot of problems, it creates just as many more and is not always all it’s cracked up to be. Tales abound of ordinary folks who have won vast amounts of money going nuts because everyone they’ve ever known has come out of the woodwork to ask them for a share of it. That is why most lottery winners shun publicity. I would, too. I’m not saying that a little notoriety isn’t sometimes a bad thing. I would love to have salon.com or Vanity Fair publish an essay of mine, or be asked to read an essay on National Public Radio. That said, I don’t want someone breaking into my house and sleeping in my guestroom while I’m home, either. Surely there is balance somewhere I guess the ultimate satisfaction for me would be to live a comfortable, stable and happy life, where I make those closest to me happy, and am able to pay all my bills and have some left over for when I’m old. Not a bad dream to have, is it? I hope not, because those are the sum of my goals and aspirations. Incidentally, if you’re with All Things Considered, This American Life or any other NPR program, please email me here.

WELL, the phone fell off the wall, and I’m NOT SURE what kind of metaphor that is, but I’ll put it back up, and not analyze it too much.

I apologize for the lack of postings this week… I just started a new job. I’ll post this weekend, for sure. Thanks for reading me, and also for those of you who have written me and told me you’ve missed my postings. Fan mail already!

See you soon.

Gadgets have always fascinated me. I love to go to the housewares store and look at all the various and assorted contraptions you can buy to perform everyday tasks with greater ease. The fact that you can buy one of several inventions specifically to peel an apple, for instance, is fascinating to me. I don’t peel apples, but that’s not the point. Though I (very) rarely cook, I have two drawers in my kitchen devoted to such labor saving devices. My enthrallment with gadgets doesn’t stop at the kitchen, not by a long shot. I am famous among my friends for my use and attraction to such things. In a world where gadgets such as cell phones and Palm devices are becoming more and more commonplace, I was an early adapter. I got my first cell phone in 1989. It was huge, but I could make calls from wherever I was, as long as I had a three pound battery with me, and didn’t want to talk for more than 10 minutes. As phones have gotten smaller, my fascination with them has grown. I always want the ‘latest and greatest’. I currently covet a new Nokia model 8890. Another neato, gotta get gadget (which my father ALSO has, lucky fellow) is the Titanium Powerbook that just came out. These devices are literally SEXY to me. They are among the best examples of functional design I’ve seen in a long time. My current bout of deep introspection has caused me to probe why I desire such things. I think its because I want to feel special. I wasn’t the most popular kid in school growing up, and my social skills developed really late (like, after college). One way I stood out was with my clothing (even though they were making fun of me, I loved to be called Polo Boy. Talk about low self-esteem!), and with the things I had. Because of my dysgraphia, I carried a silent, battery-operated typewriter to class with me. In 1985, such a thing kind of made me stand out. Even if it ostracized me, I was being paid attention to, and this was good. After the Relationship From Hell (more on that in future columns) I began to make friends, and I realized that these folks liked me, just because I was Tim. This is ironic, because I made these friends in Dallas, a city with a reputation of being quite shallow, especially in the gay community. Many of the people I met back then are still my friends. I talked to one on the phone last night for over an hour. I don’t have to impress these folks. I just have to be myself. Even though I know this, I still find myself falling into those habits. It’s hard being human, but all and all, I think I’m pretty good one. I’m glad I’ve been able to find people in my life who agree with me. All that being said, I’d still like one of those new Nokias, and that new Kenneth Cole store they are building near my house? The staff will most likely know me by name. I can’t help it. I’m human.

I recently did something radical: I hung the phone on my desk up on the wall. I don’t know why I’ve never thought of it, because my desk faces a wall that has a whiteboard on it. I jot down ideas and thoughts on it and it helps keep me organized. Immediately in front of my keyboard was a two-line phone. Not just any phone, mind you… but a big ‘ol honking phone that was almost as big as my keyboard. I’m not sure, but I think you can call yourself on the damn thing. It’s really advanced. ANYWAY, the other day, I was sitting at my desk, daydreaming in a way that only an ADD person can, and I got inspired. I thought “WOW… I could hang the phone on the wall, and have ALL this extra desk space!” I was inspired, and I began my quest. I went to the garage and (eventually) found two screws that I thought would work, and the electric screwdriver. It took some work, because the wall that I hung the phone on is apparently bulletproof (first sign of attack, I’m in my office, thankyouverymuch). The phone finally got put up, and it’s WONDERFUL where it is. I find I enjoy my desk more, because it seems less cluttered. The phone is more accessible, too. I don’t know why I didn’t do it before. That stupid phone got me thinking that if I could improve SO much with such a little thing, than maybe I could make, for instance, ONE small change in my own habits and make a huge difference elsewhere. I have many faults and weaknesses, but I sometimes think that such problems are insurmountable and impossible. Because of this, I usually don’t make any change at all, and end up stuck and mired in my bad habits. This is where you, the readers, come in. During my extended introspection, I decided I was going to begin writing and posting my writing here. That small amount of should help me in other areas, as well. Improvement is never easy, but as somebody much wiser than me said, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.” I guess this is my step. Please walk with me. My next post will be Wednesday at the latest. I hope you are enjoying reading this as much I like to write it! Let me know what you think (good or bad) by sending me email. Thanks.

Welcome to all the Life and Stuff readers! I'm glad you stopped by. Please let me know what you think! I'll have a new column posted on Monday, come see me then.

Okay, so now comes the introductions. I have decided to begin this weblog of my life so that I may have a creative outlet for expression. I decided to do this for several reasons. The first reason is that (if I do say so myself) I'm a pretty good writer. I am able to communicate and express myself pretty well. I have a learning disability that makes physically writing by longhand a horrible, almost literally painful, experience. I think that one of the reasons this was so painful to me is because as a child, I was a voracious reader, and I KNEW that I had these words in my head that could express myself, but I couldn't do it. Thank goodness, I learned to type (and type well) during middle school sometime. It is a skill that I value very much, for it gives me voice on paper. The next reason that I wanted to do this is because I DO have things to express, and no outlet for it. It is kind of an exercise to force myself to do it. I want to be consistent, so hopefully I can keep it up. My goal is to post at least three times a week. That seems realistic for now. That said, I reserve the right to change this at any time. The third reason is that I have, for the last four months or so, been reading an essay a day by Kim Holzer. I have been watching her write and thinking not only "hey, I can do that", but also "hey, I WANT to do that!" Thanks, Kim for the email exchanges, and also for letting me be a guest columnist on your site. It really was a huge honor to me. I hope that my site is as fulfilling to me as yours has been. Next column, I'll write a bit more about what sorts of things we will discuss in this, as well as some of my future plans for this. A hint: I'm going to register my own domain!