THOUGHTS OF AN ARKANSAS TRANSPLANT
Two years.
Two years ago, I boarded an airplane. I came to San Diego to start a new life. I came to have a writing career.
I did a midyear report on my progress, pretty much ready to leave this place for LA. This town did not cater to me and my goals. Instead, it was for everyone, but me.
So...two years...how do I feel now?
A TALE OF TWO JOBS
Around this time last year I had two jobs. I worked as a host at a restaurant. I also was a front desk agent at Hotel S.
But...didn't I come to San Diego for a better life? A writing career? The answer was year. However I was busy with something else entirely: survival. San Diego had a way of keeping people off balance. Dreams fell to the wayside, leaving regrets...and homeless.
In order to refocus, I had to hit bottom. For me it would be waking up constantly due to my sister yelling at her kids. She did it every morning, waking me up from constantly needed sleep. Worse, she did n not care, too self-centered to. I grew tired of having my space violated. The straw that broke the camel's back was finding out my sister scheme me out of money. I knew things had to change.
I was set to leave. I realized that I came to California for a reason. It was time to get back to it. Kos even gave me the gift of moving money.
Then...I decided not to move to LA.
All my life I did the safe thing. I would put my duty before myself. That quality made me an excellent worker. However...I sacrificed my happiness.
That quality...had become a flaw.
Now, my focus had changed again. Today I was still a front desk agent at Hotel S. However I was also a writer. I would definitely need more money to move to LA, requiring a second job again since my raise turned out not to be as great as I thought. My focus was back. No matter what writing would not fall to the wayside again. And I would put myself first.
San Diego made me stronger.
ARMY OF ONE
Glenn's visit last month was the last time I went out to a gay club. Months ago, I made a choice. And funnily enough I stuck with it.
I've come to the conclusion that all the good gays...the ones who could hold a conversation...the ones I would love to get to know...the ones that would be what I'm looking for in a potential boyfriend...were A) taken, B) exclusively online, and C) probably in another country.
I'm 28 now. I have arrived at that spot I never thought I would arrive at. That place where my career was most important. That place where sex and hooking up were not the end-all and be-all of existence. I wanted more.
I'm not going to find that here.
It had been two years. I have had my fun. I have also had my fill.
No matter whether I was in Hillcrest, Downtown, the edge of San Diego, the gay men that I have encountered were all the same. They were shallow. They were into games. And apparently everyone wanted to be 15 again.
I felt like Sebastian from CRUEL INTENTIONS, bored with everyone around him because they were easy and predictable. He wanted a challenge. So did I. I wanted someone who had the balls to get into a courtship that ended in a relationship.
Judging by the recent article in the gay mag 'The Bottom Line' which dealt with this very thing, I believed that very thing. Kos emailed me the other day, believing that my chances of having a relationship was so easy. If he only knew how wrong he sounded.
Just like my jaded friends, I did not think I would find anything. I was alone. I was only an army of one, marching toward his dreams.
HOPES IN MOMENTS
Bar Dynamite was notorious for its Wednesdays. It was House Music night. Usually, it would be packed full of ravers, trendsetters, and soulful music.
Lately, rave music appeared to be stuck in the 1980s. I considered myself a big '80s kid. However as I sat in a very comfy booth, my mind was on one thing.
Overkill, much? It was like everywhere I went there was an '80s music revival going on. It had been a while since I've been out. I wanted to feel the beats vibrating off my body. I wanted the music to grab me, like the Pied Piper using his musical flute to drag the kids out of the town. There was a beat here and there, but I continued to sit.
I left to catch the bus. It had started picking up at that point, but the last bus was leaving. To get home, I needed to be on it.
I continued to have more moments in the year I've been here in San Diego. Usually, they seem to be at DJ Skand's rave-themed party. The same could be said for DJ Trip and several other rave-themed parties.
For a moment, San Diego became a place full of life, adventure, and fun. People weren't hating on someone. Everyone was special. Girls danced. Guys could handle hugs. The sky was the limit. I could see why people would want to live here.
I knew if I would survive here that I would need more of those moments. And those were moments that I did not see in the gay clubs here. So I did something years ago I never thought I would.
I turned my back on the gay clubs.
GONE
What next?
It had become a theme with me as of late.
My job grew to give me little pleasure. I was alone. And the majority of the gay community seem to be giving me the stuck-up nose.
To all of this, I decided to give it the eyeroll. With Mercury Retrograde coming to distract me, I only knew one thing. I had to stay focused.
One day at a time. One step forward. If I could find the little hope in moments, I knew that I would get to the goal.
San Diego was not my town by any means. But I admit now that it's not 100% bad now.
It's only 90% now. :)
Diego
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