The Type

It has been almost two years since I started writing this blog.

In the whole spectrum of things, two years is but a blip on the radar. But, when I really sit down and think about it, these past two years for me could easily be translated into a lifetime. I honestly cannot believe the amount of changes that I have gone through, the experiences that I involved myself in, and the pure, raw emotions that I have subjected myself too. The person I am today is almost a 360 degree difference from the person I was then. And, if you have been following me all along, you've read through some of these different things, as I am no stranger to publicizing my feelings.

When I sit down and think about why I wanted to start writing this blog, I find myself amidst conflicting feelings of laughing until I cry,  or skipping the laughing part altogether and heading straight into crying. If you are reading this blog and you have yet to read my pilot blog posting, "Conceptual Love" - dumb name.. I'm aware - I encourage you to do so before you read this one any further. Obviously, my first posting was about love, as love is fickle and I wanted to name my blog "The Fickle Truth". It was fitting. But, I would be painstakingly lying if I didn't tell you the whole reason of writing that blog. So, here goes.

I wrote the blog as sort of a confession letter to tell someone that I was falling in love with him (and, yes, I mean "him" - I'm gay. Get over it! =P). And then I posted that link to every social site that I have ever owned in hopes that he would somehow catch wind of it, read it, realize his long lost love for me and come barreling into my open arms with undeniable happiness.

Well, that never happened. He read it, asked me who I was talking about, and because I hadn't developed those lovely set of balls that I carry today, I just said "someone". And, we never spoke of it again.

Thank God.

This boy that I was so much in love with turned out to be a certifiable sociopath that shoved me into the greatest bout of depression, thus far. Imagine if we actually started dating! We would probably have formed the most destructive co-dependent relationship towards each other and we both would have been screwed.

Since then, I have tried immersing myself into other relationships, all with the most dismal results. I've done the one night stand thing and I've done the whole trying to turn a friendship into a relationship thing. But, over the last two years, I have never gained that one thing I've wanted most: a bonafide, monogamous relationship.

This past week, my newfound friend Keegan asked me what my type of person was.  And while I could easily answer that I choose to look for the emo, punk rock kid that is emotionally crippled, I just told him that I don't know. Because, while I can get my sexual kicks from someone that is broken and that I can try fixing, that isn't someone I can spend my life with. So, I honestly didn't really know.

I've heard it said that while sex is a very big deal, it's like that is the easy part of any relationship. Yes, it's awkward and threatening and thrilling, but it pails in comparison to giving your heart to somebody. That's the real scary part.

And I couldn't agree more.

So, here I find myself questioning the "type" of person that I can see myself with and the person that I can give my heart to and not expect it to be handed back. And here is what I have come up.

First and foremost, I want a guy that I can be physically, emotionally, and intellectually connected with. I want a guy, who from the moment I meet him and look into those big, beautiful eyes, I will know that we will be with each other till the day we die. I want a guy who doesn't hide behind technology and isn't afraid of having a real conversation with me, face-to-face. I want a guy who doesn't just want to throw me against the wall and have his way with me after the first date, or the second, or the third. And when we finally decide to have sex, I want it to mean something and I want to not have to worry about waking up the next morning with a text saying thanks for the great lay and that "I'll call you sometime", which actually means, "I've had my way with you and now I'm done with you". I want a guy who, when I decide to show him every part of my body, I won't have to worry about him cringing because I have scars or a little extra flab. I want a guy who will be there for me when I need him most and will know that I need him even if I don't explicitly say I do. I want a guy who understands the value of just doing nothing - of sitting there, wrapped up in a blanket, cuddling, not worrying about what the rest of the day holds or what is to come next. I want a guy who lives in the moment, but also knows when it's time to start thinking and planning the future. I want a guy that can stand with me and be patient with me when I reach my lowest lows. Who stands proudly next to me when I reach my highest highs, knowing that he is, in part, to thank for.

I just want to love and be loved. Pure, unabashed, unending, raw, love.

I'm sure that you could arguably say there are guys in my life that would be willing to provide this to me and more.  And while I have no doubt that this is true,  my brain has to connect with them on that level. After all, the brain is boss. When meeting someone, my brain immediately throws them into the category of being friends or the category of possible lovers. And once they are in these categories, there is no switching.

So, I guess, therein lies the problem. Maybe the problem is just me. Who knows.

I watched Practical Magic the other day and heard a quote that I found myself identifying with very closely.

From Sally, after her husband died, to her sister Gilly, who lives on the opposite side of the country: "Sometimes I feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean….. The moon tonight, there's a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind…. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want want someone to love me. I want to be seen. I don't want to believe it, but, there is no man, Gilly. Only that moon."

Now, Sally was a lot more depressed about her love life than I am. I would venture to say that I am not even depressed. Just in a state of wonderment and questioning when I would actually have the ability to feel what I want to and have it reciprocated back.

I am young, I know this. I have my whole life ahead of me to find what I'm looking for. I just hope that one day I do.

A guy can dream right?

Peace, Love, and Other Miscellaneous Happy Things,

CK

The Clique That Was Not So Clique-ish

Over the past couple of months, I have been referred to as a social standing that I've never quite had the opportunity to say I've been a part of. Not that I want to be a part of it, but apparently I give off the vibe that I am.

I'm quite surprised to say that many people think I am a member of an elite clique within the community that I have chosen to spend nearly 100% of my time with. Oh really?

A clique you say?

Huh.

As I began to ponder this new description of myself, I realized I became enveloped with a white hot anger. Now, usually, I would say that if I am really angry about something, then obviously part of it must be true, otherwise I wouldn't be angry. I've always argued for the "words are just words" mantra, but, I can't side with it this time.

The fact that anyone would ever consider me to be a part of a clique is utterly absurd. And to top it off by trying to point it out to me, makes me want to punch an innocent little child.

Let's think about how modern day views the term clique. Many people my age would immediately jump to the movie Mean Girls and the ever so popular clique, the Plastics. Older ages might jump to the movie The Heathers.

Cliques are mean. Cliques degrade people. Cliques only ever hang out with themselves and make sure that everyone else around them know they are not welcome and are beneath them.

You honestly think I belong to a clique? Seriously? I strongly disagree.

Now, here's something I can get behind.

I have very few close friends. Friends that I can count on to be there for me 24/7 within the drop of hat. Friends that know my deepest, darkest secrets. Friends that I know will have my back about anything or against anyone without ever questioning me or waning to hear the "other side" before they support me. And friends that I would personally do all the same for.

To be honest, I have two (actually three, but just two out at K-State). We call ourselves the trio. Not because we are a clique, but because we know each other more than we know ourselves and know that when push comes to shove, we are really the only ones we can rely on.

And while we three are always seen together, we are far from a degrading social standing. We are three of the most accepting, most helpful, most approachable people you will find.

If this were not so, would we have random people to come up to us and talk to us about our involvement at K-State and with questions about the LGBT community?

If this were not so, would we have parties where we invited over 20 people (cause that's really all we know) to come hang out with us? And where more than 10 people showed up to said parties?

If this were not so, would we really care to make appearances at anything? Because, what's the point if we are just going to be hanging out with ourselves and excluding everyone else.

I like to consider myself one of mankind's most affectionate life forms. Something like the cross between a golden retriever and a barnacle (Thank you, Elizabeth Gilbert).

Part of an evil clique, I am not.

In all fairness, I should admit that I do exclude some people. It's human nature and everyone does it, whether they care to acknowledge it or not. But I've only excluded them because they've burned me. Hard. I give everyone a fair chance. I will let you into my life very easily and I will cherish our friendship. It's not hard to become an inner circle friend.

But, I expect the same treatment in return.

What's the point of putting love, sweat, and tears into a relationship with someone if all they are going to do is through it back into your face? There is none.

How do you expect me to keep being friends with someone who fools around with me and then immediately calls it a mistake the next day knowing full well how sacred I hold anything sexual in my life? What about when one say's I'm one of their best friends but then completely cuts me out of their life because that's "just what they do." How about when I give someone every opportunity in the world to prove to me that they can throw away their immaturity and become a real person, only to have them constantly embarrass me in public?

Those are nigh impossible situations to forgive people for.

So, before you start saying that I am (and my friends) are too cliquey and I need to open up my circle of friends a little more, maybe you should start thinking about why it is that I don't involve you in my life.

Chances are, you were probably a part of my (our) group once. So, what happened?

Like I said, I give everyone a chance and if we just have everyday problems, I will be more than happy to work them out with you. But, I don't cut you out and treat you like that until you really hurt me and our relationship. I don't cut people off for no apparent reason.

There is ALWAYS a reason.

Anyways, the point is, just watch you what you say.

Maybe get to know me before you start to label me.

/rant


Peace, Love, and Other Miscellaneous Happy Things,

CK

Balance and Boundaries

Balance. 

For those that have been around me for the past few weeks, this one word has taken ahold of me. It has become the premise of almost anything that I have done lately. For some, I'm sure it has proven to be most annoying, as my use of the word is usually accompanied by a rock shoved in their face with the word etched in gold underneath its Chinese symbol. I now carry this rock with me almost everywhere I go. It's kind of weird actually. I have never felt more empowered by a single intrinsic object in my life. But, rest assured, if ever I have felt down in the past couple of weeks, it has been there to pick me up.

So, why balance?

My brother pointed out to me the other day, something that I never would have noticed myself. The observation was very simple, but probably the most shocking revelation I have had to date. He told me that the reason I am having so many problems is because I've gone from somebody who never cared for another soul in this world except for myself, to someone that cares about every person around him. Awkwardly enough, at the conclusion of his statement, my mind went through an entire movie montage of my life and the way I interacted with the people around me. And he was completely right.

From about late high school to the first couple of years in college, I was mean. I was cruel. I didn't care about anybody. I didn't care about their feelings. I didn't care about whether or not they were going through a rough time in their life. I just didn't care. My focus was completely on me. I knew what I wanted to do with my life and I knew exactly how I was going to get there. If I had to step on and back-stab the people around me, I would do it. If the end result was that I would look better and be moving up, I did it.

Now, I could care less about what happens to me, as long as the people around me are taken care of. I, quite literally, allowed myself to be the emotional punching bag for many people around me. And, to be honest, some people in my life are full of deep, dark, secret and painful emotions. And I stood by them, every step of the way. I've been there through their suicide attempts, their suicidal thoughts, their drunken hot messes, their boyfriend troubles, their girlfriend troubles and their struggles with academics. I've had to pull people out of some of the darkest and deepest abysses of their life and help them realize that life gets better. I've heard stories about people that I could have gone my entire life without hearing. Stories that broke my heart and made me cry. Stories that made me continuously worry about whom they were about. I cared. A lot.

I could never quite tell you why the change in attitude. While typing this and mulling through my brain, I can't even pinpoint a general time that this would have happened. It just kind of did.

Sadly, I wasn't paying attention, and this caring attitude became some what of a game to some people. I just didn't realize until it was too late.

I've always heard the people that are the nicest and the most caring, somehow always tend to be the ones that are used and abused the most. It seems like there are people out there that have an innate ability to find these extremely awesome qualities in people and then feed off of them like morbid little succubus. It's almost kind of like a Dementor's kiss (and for those of you that don't read/watch Harry Potter, you won't get this reference). The only way I can describe it is as sucking the complete good and pure soul out of a relatively happy person, until they are nothing but an empty shell. No happiness. No fun. No nothing. It's as if they have absorbed all the bad things around them and made them control their life. 

And that's exactly what happened to me. I allowed myself to absorb peoples' problems. I allowed myself to make them my own. And, to be honest, I think I even tried acting on them. The worse part of it is, these other people, allowed it to happen as well. And they knew what they were doing. They knew exactly how to get me to do what they wanted. The knew exactly how to make me be there for them 24/7.

They bribed me with dreamy friendships and hierarchy within their lives and ranks. But words just became words. Their actions spoke a completely different story.

They were never there for me when I needed them the most. They would ignore me when all I needed was a few simple words of advice. They would tell me that I was overacting and that I just needed to let it go.

Once realizations started settling in, I came about the truth that these people would never provide to me, what I provided them. I, essentially, was just a pawn in their twisted little game of life.

That's where balance steps in. I knew that I couldn't go back to the way I was before. Because, that Caleb, was just like them. But, I also knew that I couldn't allow myself to be used and abused as I have been. I needed to set boundaries. I needed to re-calibrate and figure out those people, whom I knew, would always be there for me. And then say goodbye to those who wouldn't.

This has proven to be one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. It's hard to understand that those you could care about so much, could be so careless about you. But, it happens. To all of us.

I came across this quote the other day while watching Ugly Betty: "I've had to say goodbye more times than I would've liked. But everyone can say that. And no matter how many times we do it, even if it's for the greater good, it still stings. And though we will never forget what we've given up, we owe it to ourselves to keep moving forward. What we can't do is live our lives always afraid to say our next goodbye. Because, chances are, they're not going to stop. The trick is to recognize when a goodbye can be a good thing; when it's a chance to start again."

My goodbyes are a good thing. I can start again. I can reset some friendships and I can burn bridges with others. I can balance my life.

I only have one to begin with. Why waste it on those who don't care?

Balance.

It's more than just a word.

It's renewed hope.

Peace, Love, and Other Miscellaneous Happy Things,

CK

I Blame You

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been forcing myself to observe people. Usually, this isn’t out of the norm, as people-watching tends to be one of my favorite past-times. But, I’ve been trying to observe people in a different type of light.

At first, I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking for or trying to figure out. Then, after repeated observations, I finally saw what it was that was bugging me.

I started to notice how shallow people really are. Now, let’s be clear, I’ve always known people were shallow. Unfortunately, it’s a human habit not easily broken. But, I kept seeing things that were bothersome. Things that I just didn’t understand or could even begin to fathom wondering why.

Take for instance, one’s weight. The issue of body image has long been discussed and debated, probably to the point of wearing the subject out entirely. But, never have I been so close to the topic, than now.

Over the past couple of months, I’ve lost weight.  A lot of weight. Probably more than what is usually considered healthy for a two-month period. I wish I could say that it just kind of happened and I was finally realizing that living a healthy lifestyle is the best thing to do. But, in reality, I lost my weight in an entirely unhealthy way.

I started noticing people judging me for my weight. It wasn’t exactly in what they said, but more of what they expressed with their body language and their overall attitude towards me. I’ve never been one to really complain about how I look, as I have always felt that I am the way I am for a specific reason. But, when you look at me and you ever-so-slightly extort the muscles in your face to a small, but noticeable, (at least to me) expression of disgust, I can’t help but become disgusted with myself. Or, when you so easily and half-comically poke fun at my extra “love-handles”, saying, “Oh, you know, it’s just a joke. You look fine the way you are.”, it’s not so hard to see that you’re actually saying, “Ha, sucks to be you.”

How about all them skinny people saying they are fat. Now, obviously this is something that bugs a lot of people, but I figured, what the hell? Why not offer my two cents?

To all the skinny people in my life and within my six degrees of separation: you may think you are fat, but let’s be clear, you aren’t. When I can wrap my hands around your waist and still feel the bones poking through your skin, you are skinny. If I can hug you and can feel/realize that I am hugging a toothpick and you are hugging a giant teddy bear, you are skinny. And just because you have a little “pudge”, doesn’t mean that you are fat and need to lose tons of weight.

You know how horrible it makes me feel when you honestly think that your little “pudge” makes you feel fat? Seriously? I look at you, then look back at me, then look at you again, and the only thing that I want to do is shove my finger so far down my throat that I throw up everything that I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. I would kill to have just “pudge.” I would kill to look remotely just like you.

So, yeah, I’ve lost some weight. And yeah, I feel pretty good about it. But I did it because I was forced to see that society will always be a lot more critical about one’s weight than most people care to acknowledge. I’ve come to hate food. I can’t even look at it half the time anymore without thinking about how I’m going to lose the weight that it is going to make me gain. How sad is that?

Another thing that really irks me, and essentially ties into this whole body image thing, is deciding if one is date-able or, for some, screw-able based off of what they look like. Sometimes people even go so far as to decide this based off what a person can bring to the table with their genitalia.

Now, I totally get that people can be picky and that people have their own type when they are looking for a significant other. But, you’ve gone too far when the only thing you decide this on, is based off of their outside appearance.

When did relationships that were based off of communication, feelings, and what somebody is on the inside, go completely flying out the window? When did it become all about what somebody looks like? You really think that you can build a life around someone where the only thing you find attractive about them is the fact that they, themselves, are attractive? Really?

Oh, and what about if a guy has a small penis and/or an uncircumcised penis? And for women, what about the fact that they may not really have any breasts? You’re going to make your decision based off of that? Seriously?

How shallow can one get?

Maybe their would be a lot less broken hearts in this world if people stopped living in their fantasies and completely dismissing someone that could actually be really good for them, just because they are not the “ideal” body-type.

Maybe if people could realize that some of us are just humans and are very fragile and are obviously never going to be “perfect” by society’s standards, life may indeed, be a little more enjoyable.

So, I blame you. I blame every person who I just described for the self-centered, egomaniacal, looking-for-nothing-but-perfection society that we live in today. A society that I can’t even believe exists.

For all you people out there that have little extra “love-handles” to go around, that may not look like a photo-shopped picture of David Beckham, or that may not live up to genitilia standards, know that someone out there (ME) loves you for who you are. Not for what you look like.

Know that at least one person is rooting for you and is on your side.

Just something to think about.

Peace, Love, and Other Miscellaneous Happy Things,

CK

The Real Me

I've never understood the phrase "You've changed."  In my opinion, I don't think a person ever changes who they are, I think they just kind of loose themselves. For some, loosing themselves proves to be the best thing that ever happened to them. For others, it's total chaos.

I say this because while I don't think people change, I think we continually add things to our persona. Things that help us move through our life and things that make us, essentially, a better person. But, under the gun, I think a person will revert back to their most basic, primitive instinct. The person they've been since they started developing a sense of one's self.

These past couple of weeks, I've heard that all too familiar phrase more than I care to acknowledge. I don't take offense to it, nor will I ever. But, it scares me to think that those people so close to me, think that I've changed. I can't help but think, maybe they never really knew me to begin with. And the sad thing is, maybe I never gave them the chance.

In the past couple of months, I've experienced what I can only describe as life. And I don't mean everyday, normal facets of life. I mean that part of life that no one talks about because we can't believe we ever went there. That part that we keep so packed away that it takes either a fare amount of alcohol to bring out or complete trust in the person you are telling. What I've put myself through, I'm not sure I would ever want to put myself through again. I shook every bit of psychological foundation that I ever built up. I watched walls crumble down all around me. I literally felt like I was standing in a dark room full of nothing but my entire life flashing up on little screens. The past, the present, and there was nothing I could do to change it.

I lost control of me.

It was during this time that I formed this incessant need to reach out and grab ahold of everything around me. And believe me, I grabbed ahold of everything. Tightly. As if my life depended on it. Actually, you could even say that at that time, my life did depend on it.  I grabbed ahold of things in my social life, I grabbed ahold at the chance of love, and I grabbed ahold of the people in my life. I was like one of those hoarders that can't bear to ever let anything go. It was as if I had formed an invisible network of veins with them and if you dared remove them, you dared remove the very thing that was keeping me alive.

I latched onto my fraternity. I tried to make it into something that I could lean on. Something that I could shape into my own little bubble of comfort. I tried to make it my life. But, I leaned so hard onto an organization that was barely keeping itself afloat, that I began to resent it. I resented it for not helping me. I mean, there I was asking for help and all I could see was it looking back at me, with an evil smirk, saying that it knew what it was doing to me and that it didn't even care. I began to think that it and the people in it absolutely hated me. So much so, that I just wanted to leave. I wanted to leave and never come back.

I latched onto love. Now, I've been known to fall fast for people. I can't really help it, it just kind of happens. I actually think it happens a lot more than most people really care to admit.  To be honest, I really couldn't tell you if I started loving because I actually loved someone or I started loving because I needed someone. Regardless, I had moved out of the two month crush zone and into what most people define as being in love. I ended up doing what I have always told people to try and avoid when it comes to this point in their life. I formed a kind of jealous attachment to this person. Not only did I form a jealous attachment, I also formed a pretty strong friendship with him as well. I came to know this person on many levels and because I wanted him to know that I would always be there for him, I allowed myself to listen to all the stories about his current love-life. Which only increased my jealous hatred for him and for the one's he liked. I hated them because they knew how he felt about them, but they were not interested. My mind just couldn't understand why they didn't understand that they had this person who was, by my own very definition, amazing, and they were just completely uninterested or didn't seem to care. I hated him because, there I always stood and yet I only ever seemed invisible.

I latched onto my friends. Of all things I did, this was by far the most intense attachment that I formed. I came to rely on my friends to basically remind me to keep breathing. They were my life-line, my life support. And I used and abused these relationships so much that I started resenting them as well. What I needed was constant contact. I mean 24/7, never leave my side, never leave my eyesight type of contact. And even though I know that is not humanly possible, I wanted it. And when I didn't get it, I became angry.  Even though I couldn't stand to be around them most of the time, I couldn't stand to be without them.  Again, I felt like I was screaming for help and my screams were going nowhere except for a boomerang action right back to me. And again, I felt like they were beginning to hate me and that they no longer wanted to ever be a part of my life. So, I tried cutting them out of my life. But, it didn't take long for me to realize that I couldn't do that. As much as I didn't want it to be true, I needed them. Sad thing is, I think I whole-heartedly blamed them for this attachment
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I lost myself because I was focusing on the negatives of my life and everything that intertwined with it. Because, let's face it, negatives are a lot easier to find than positives. I was just so wrapped up in fear and anger that I turned all of them into hopeless, lost causes. And it took me a lot longer to find the happiness in all of them.

What I failed to realize, and insurmountably realize now, was that it was no one else's fault but my own. I created these situations and I suffer because of it.

What I failed to see was that I was trying to use the fraternity as a substitute for what I thought was missing in my life. I mean, it's OK to rely on an organization for support, but I can't blame something that in reality doesn't really exist. It exists on paper, but it's just a concept. There isn't anything I can physically reach out and grab. Instead of relying on the fraternity to help me, I should have noticed the hope that the fraternity was providing for other people and in turn, the hope the fraternity provided me.

What I failed to see was that even though I loved someone, they didn't have to love me back. Love is fickle. It's here one second and it's gone the next. What I should have been focusing on was that I actually got to experience the feeling and attempt to show it. Which, oddly enough, was something that I don't think I have ever experienced before. So what if he didn't like me back? As long as he is happy, I am happy. I also needed to realize that he was going through the exact same situation that I was. He too had fallen for people that didn't feel the same way for him. He too had formed an attachment to people that didn't notice he was there. It doesn't matter if I will ever get to be that special someone to him. What matters is that I get to be his friend. I get to be someone in his life that he can trust and rely on for support for anything life throws at him. I get to be in his life. And that is more than I could ever have hoped for.

What I failed to see was that my friends were doing all they could for me. They were there for every problem that I ever brought up to them. Day or night. If ever there was a valiant attempt to be there for me every waking second, they would be the epitome of that attempt. But like I mentioned earlier, it would be unrealistic and an utter waste of their time to be there for me that much. To provide that constant contact that I thought I needed. I now know that, whether or not they realized it, I was suffocating our relationship. I was. Me and me alone. I needed to be able to rely on myself before I could fully rely on them to help me through my problems.

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This place is brutal. No one can deny that. It's like a mortal coil that never ceases to disappear. The world has forgotten what it means to be human. All around us we see people that are portrayed as stable, stone walls that can resist even the most terrifying attack. Portrayed as if they are comparable with the strength of the Gods. 

But, in reality, we are the most fragile things on this planet. It takes but just a few simple words, a few wrong actions against us and we are broken. Shattered even. Into a million little pieces that no one can ever put back together.

Yet, in the midst of our pain, we pick up the million little pieces and we try to move on.

We try.

Day after day, step by step, one breath at a time. But it's never really enough, because who can really pick up a million pieces?

I am human. I am fragile. I may act like I have it all together and I may act like I know what I'm doing, but the truth is, I'm just as lost as the rest of us. I often find myself wondering how it is that anyone ever really finds their way in this world.

But, I have hope. I have hope that even though I may not see it right now, I will eventually see the light and I will eventually see that I am OK. I will realize that I can't blame everything and everyone I am involved with for my problems. My problems are my own and mine alone.

I didn't change, I just lost myself. And far be it for me to say that I am back to where I want to be, because I'm not.  But, I am better. I am finding happiness all around me. And I hope that if any of you ever get into the place that I was, that you know that you will find your way out. It may take a lot of soul-searching and a lot of self degradation, but you will find your way.

You will find you.


With all my heart,

Caleb

It was Adam and Eve, Not Adam and Steve.... What a bunch of BS.

“’It was Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.’ I never really understood this argument. Why did everyone always want to cock-block Adam and Steve? I’m sure they were a perfectly nice, well-dressed couple, and I can assure you that Adam and Steve wouldn’t have fucked things up the way Adam and Eve did. Those queens surely would have had enough run-ins with dirty snakes to know better than to put things in their mouths that didn’t belong to them (and an apple is the last fruit that would have tempted this couple. They probably would have used it as compost for their begonia garden.). And fig leaves? Please. Adam and Steve wouldn’t have been caught dead in them. Adam and Steve would have been au couture, not au natural. Besides, even though God was pretty clear that he thought everything that was created was “good,” maybe some people were just jealous that God would have considered Adam and Steve ‘fabulous’”

I adapted this from an unfinished book by an up-and-coming author. I do not know his name, but I have read the first ten pages out of the book and I have fallen in love. When it comes to expressing how many feel when being the only “different” person in a group of people and then being constantly scrutinized because of it, he nails it.

I’m sure that at some point in all of your lives, you have been the odd one out. Whether it’s at a party where drinking has somehow become the chosen life-support system for people, and you are the only one who opts to drink pop or water or where you are the only person wearing a crazy color in a sea of black and white. Do you recognize this feeling? I bet you do. It’s extremely uncomfortable. Many people spend their whole lives trying to stay out of situations such as these.

Imagine, if you will, being the odd person out in almost everything you do. Could you survive that? On top of this, imagine being constantly degraded because of it. Imagine people telling you that your lifestyle is horrendous and an abomination to the very basic infrastructure of life. Telling you that God hates you and you are undoubtedly going to Hell. Could you survive it then? Something tells me your answer didn’t start with a “y”.

But there are people that face it every day. Amazing, courageous, inspiring, gay people who have to live with bigotry and hatred from so many different people.

I will never understand this. I will never understand why there are some people that think they are better than everyone else and that it is their place to tell others that their lifestyle is heinous. Who gives them the right?

 God? As far as I know, God has never visited this world yet and has explicitly said destroy/hate all the gays.

Your social status? Right. Because you’re a Senator or you drive around the newest model of a Ferrari, you get to tell me how to live my life. Yes Mr. Senator, because we all know that you lead a perfect, totally clean, life.

Quite frankly, I am tired of hearing gay people get slandered all the time. It’s sickening. Does a guy who loves another guy physically harm you? Does a woman who lies in bed with another woman make your life more difficult to live? If it does, then you must have some major problems in your life than the fact that there are homosexual people in the world.

No one person in this world is better than another. No one person has the right, no matter how much they think so, to tell another person that they are a lesser human being.

"You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge the other, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things."
                                                                          - Romans 2:1

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am all for every person having their own beliefs, ethics and moral codes. And I am definitely all for people sharing their opinions about things. But when one decides to start continuously bashing a group of people (whether it be gay people, culturally diverse people or even people of a different socioeconomic status), they have gone to far.

Ok, so I may not have graduated summa cum laude from an Ivy League school, have an unwavering faith in a specific religion, make a six-figure salary or have an ounce of power to make things happen. But I know that we all share the same feelings. Pain, love, anger, humiliation, sadness. We all feel them. We are all the same in that way. This is what makes us human.

When you think that all your accomplishments make you a better human being than me, you have turned yourself into a disgrace. A disgrace to humanity.

I have had enough. I will no longer stand by and watch gay people get shot down for trying to make it in this world. The world is changing, whether you like it or not. Gay people are not going away. We will continue to fight from every angle to ensure that gay people get to have the same rights as any other individual in society. And you can bet your ass that if you are around me and you start bashing on the homosexual community, I will call you out. It’s time to put all of our differences aside and start living a life where everyone is equal. Where everyone is human. 

I’m sure I have offended a lot of people by saying all this. Lord knows that if you have some image to keep, you don’t address the gay controversy. Especially if it revolves around the religious fanatics’ position on homosexuality. Luckily for me, my image doesn’t really matter to me. As long as I stand up for what I believe and for what I think is right, I could care less about how my name gets sloshed around. I only have one life to live and I only get one chance to make a difference in this world and I’ll be damned if I am going to let that slip through my fingers.

The gay community deserves to live a normal life just like anyone else and I will continue fighting for this until the day I die.

Just something to think about.

Peace, Love, and Other Miscellaneous Happy Things,

- CLK

5 Things I Hate About You

Creepers,

First of all, I would like to tell you that the title of this thing is misleading. This isn’t about one individual person. Nor is it about my supposed new love interest. The only reason I say that is because some people believe it is.

Quick side tangent – the love interest is a no go. For as long as we both shall live. Forever and ever, Amen. To the end of all times. And any other analogies you can think of. No worries, I’m not going to be turning into a zombie this time. Just an asshole.

Totally kidding.

Maybe.

I don’t know.

Anyways, this is a posting about the things I hate about people in general. Now, don’t get your panties in a bunch, because I don’t hate you. There are only a couple of people in this world that I hate (they know who they are) and I would be very surprised if any of them read this blog. Let alone, if they were smart enough to even know how to turn a computer on. Dumbasses.

Please pay attention, because if you do more than one of these things to me, we might be having problems.

Numero Uno ---- Hi Mr. Intelligent. Can you do me a favor? Yes? Ok, well, will you shut the hell up? Thanks.

I absolutely hate it when I am having a conversation with someone and they feel this incessant need to take our conversation to the next intellectual level. No. Not happening. I’ll tune out of the conversation within 10 seconds and just keep monotonously shaking my head up and down and saying “Yeah.” Sooner or later I may take a fork and jab you in the eye with it and feed it to the nearest living creature. Oh, the daydreams I have had about doing that.

 The funny thing is, most of the time, they are not that intelligent anyways. Believe me, you are not fooling me acting that way. I mean what are you proving to yourself? That you can out-talk me? Well good for you. You can out-talk me. But, you sure made yourself look like a dumbass when you did it. If you are going to have a conversation with me, then do just that. Just talk to me. I love talking to people. I love talking about random shit. But please don’t start throwing things out there that you know I would never know. One of these days, I might just throw something back at you. And it ain’t going to be words.

3Numero Dos ---- Uhmmm… Who died and made you King?

Power. The source of everything good and evil in this world. History has taught us that the struggle for power occurs each and every day whether it be in the comfort of your own home or between two countries of the world. Obviously, I am talking about power on a much smaller scale. I hate when someone is appointed a position that has just an inkling of power attached to it and they think they are the next goddamn President of the United States. Fuck that shit. Funny how just a little power drives people mad and they always want more. Well, people, you may be higher up on the chain than me, but you do not have power over me. I understand that there is a chain of command that must be followed and I will gladly do so if called upon. That being said, if you want me to do something, just ask politely. Treat me like a human. Don’t order me around like I am your slave. We abolished that shit a long time ago.

Numero Tres ---- Excuse me weasel? It’s none of your fucking business.

First of all, I am a very open person. I share a lot more information than I should. If someone asks me a question, I am bound to answer it without hesitating. That being said, people with hidden agendas can earn a big eff you from me. This kind of ties into those intelligent people. From what I have observed, people that think they are intelligent also seem to think that by asking me all these round-about questions they are going to get me to spill the nitty gritty details of my life. Again, you are not fooling me. I can see straight the bullshit that you think you are being so intelligent about covering up. This ain’t some Nicki Minaj “You See Right Thru Me” music montage.

It especially pisses me off, if I notice you doing it to someone else. I mean really? Is your life so freaking boring that you must manipulate people to find out all their dirty little secrets? What a little weasel you are. Want to know my life story? Become one of my good friends and I’ll spill it to you like someone who has diarrhea.

Numero Cuatro ---- But we just made plans today!? WTF??

My smart phone was the greatest thing that happened to me, technologically speaking. Mainly because, I finally have an electronic calendar that updates me of my schedule every two hours. I love my calendar. I feel lost without it. So, when you make plans with me, you can bet it goes into the calendar. Good organizational skills right? So what, you have a calendar, big effing deal? Well it is a big fucking deal, because when I make plans, I block off a specific time in my life to spend with you. Granted, I’m not a Senator or anything and my time isn’t really special to anyone but me, but good God, I hate getting cancelled on. Especially when you cancel on me on the day of our appointment. Ugh, if I could send an ESP to punch you in the face, I freaking would. Believe it or not, I look forward to hanging out with people. It keeps me social and on my toes. Sometimes it’s the only thing that brightens my day. Remember that the next time you cancel on me. You may have taken away the only good thing about my day. Bastards.

Ok, this one isn’t really a big one, mainly because I realize that plans can change within the blink of an eye. And believe me, I cancel on people to (yes, even last minute.) But it still pisses me off. It pisses everybody off. I know it does. Let’s just call this point moot. Ok? Thanks.

Numero Cinco ---- Like, you know those, like, situations, where, like, you just want to, like, punch someone?

For real people? If you are one of these people that just cannot stop saying “like”, please don’t come around me. I’m just kidding. I love you all. But, seriously? Is it that hard to have a normal conversation where you are trying to describe something to me and use the word “like”, at most, two times? Anything over that is annoying. And it’s a sure-fire way for me to start tuning out of our conversation. Granted, it’s always fun to count how many times you say it, because I love relaying the statistics to everyone else.

“Good God. So I was having this conversation with so-and-so and you know how many times they said “like?” There were more “likes” than there were other words in the convo.”  …. PATHETIC. Learn some proper English douches.

Or don’t. I kind of like daydreaming about what I would like to do to you the next time you say “like”. I get pretty creative. But, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison, so it will just stay a daydream. For now.

But please. Just stop saying it. Like, now.
________________________________________________________________________

So, my plan was to go to 10 things. But, that ain’t happening. At least not tonight. This was a pretty long posting. I may post the other 5 sometime later. Maybe not. Who the fuck knows? Who the fuck cares? Not me.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you take home some valuable lessons.

Peace, Love, and other Miscellaneous Happy Things…… CK

Day Eight - Spain 2011 - "Is there another eye? Can I eat it?"

Friday - March 25, 2011 -Spain

Day 8

What it is yo(s)? How's my favorite creepers? Doing good? Ready to creep it up? Alright, let's blow this joint. 

Sorry that was a little inappropriate. It's what happens when I listen to rap. I get in touch with my crazy side. Or at least another side to my crazy side, because as I have heard several  times over this trip, I'm apparently one crazy ass person. What do you think? 

Be careful how you answer that. This blog let's me have a direct line into all ya'lls thoughts.

 Not really. I haven't quite mastered big brother yet. I'm getting there though.

Let's get to my trip shall we?

Thursday was a very peculiar day. I have officially dubbed it the Day of Fatty Acids. Doesn't sound too appetizing does it? Our first stop of the day was an olive oil producer. This couple grew up in holland and after the fall of some important person in spain, they figured that it was the prime time to buy a house and start their business. So they did. Lucky bastards. The land and accompanying house that they purchased was phenomenal. They had a 16th century house that was huge, a tennis court, a huge garden with solar panels, a pool with an accompanying fire pit and lounging area, and of course acres and acres of olive trees. The lady showed us around her property with the enthusiasm of Meryl Streep portraying Julia Childs. It kept us all entertained. We also got to sample four of their different oils. The owners kept talking about how we were going to taste all these different fruits and spices in the oil. Do you think I tasted all that?Hell no. All I tasted was grass and a burning sensation as it went down my throat. Don't get me wrong, it didn't taste bad, but I was a little disappointed. Still didn't stop me from buying some. I don't know about all you, but I don't get the opportunity to visit Spain very often so, "why not?"

Our second stop of the day was a rice producer. Absolutely boring. No lie.the guy was very nice and the facility was kind of cool, but good grief, I could not get into it. I mean how hard is it to make rice and how could you have an hour conversation about it. Actually, I'm sure it is a very sophisticated science to grow rice and I'm sure there are plenty of interesting things to have a convo about, but at the moment, I wasn't seeing it. The best part of the tour was the fact that they had baby goats. Absolutely adorable. If I could have snatched one and made it through customs in the U.S., I totally would have. 

But the end of the plant tour wasn't the end our rice tour for the day. Blah. We proceeded to go to a restaurant where we would eat lunch made of rice and seafood. It's called paella. I was a little excited at first, but that excitement went away pretty quick. When the owner brought it out, it was soupy mixture of all things that looked nasty. I usually like seafood, as long as it doesn't have an extreme fishy taste. I mean, I don't think that is too much to ask for. Well, this shit was really fishy and therefore really nasty. I did not enjoy it one bit. Kind of ruined my day.

Friday. Well Friday was a hard day for me. Really hard. For some reason I had convinced myself and all others in the trip that I was going to find one good thing that I liked about everybody and then tell them all to their face. Extreme, right? Yeah. Like I said, rough day. I feel like you all know me well enough to know that I don't give compliments very much. Let alone sixteen different compliments in one day. But, I did. I finished at ten at night, but I freaking did it. Yay me.

Activities for the day included our second cooking class. We made some sort of chicken and shrimp meal that I quite enjoyed. 

We also visited a winery. Our tour guide told us to not expect magnificent wine from this place because she was just taking it over from her dad and had not perfected the taste. I thought it was all magnificent. I guess I don't have am extreme palate that analyzes everything. 

Thank God.

 I love food too much to want to do that. 

After the winery, we visited a beautiful viewpoint of Costa Brava. If ever you get a chance to go on a mediterranean cruise, and I know you all are rich enough to do it, you better go. It looks like it would be spectacular. The water was so blue-green and clear,  and the surrounding cliffs were awesome. I can't wait for our cruise.

We then visited a city that my friend Ashley and I dubbed "Ceramic City". I honestly cannot remember what the hell the real name was so we will just stick with that. And, surprisingly, I bought many gifts for people here. Who would have thought? Definitely not me.

Dinner definitely made my night. Or at least part of it. Kind of ruined my later night. Quick background story. At this point in our trip, just hearing the word tapas makes us all want to vomit. Its actually a great way to lose weight. Every couple of hours, one could just shout out "Tapas!" and we wouldn't want to eat for awhile. Come on, where the hell is all the greasy cheeseburgers, taco bells and fake Mexican food restaurants at? How do these people live without having fast food?

 I guess that's why they are all skinny bitches. 

Anyways, the menu for dinner really freaked us out. For one, we couldn't read most of it, and for the part we could read, it sounded like it was going to be disgusting. We were absolutely wrong. Appetizers consisted of calamari, fish that tasted like it was from Long John Silvers, delicious bread, and for it's first debut in my mouth, escargot. I loved it! The texture was a little noxious, but the taste was delicious. Dinner consisted of steak. About damn time!! I had steak with mushrooms and I thought I had died and gone to heaven. 

Now, why did I have to go and ruin this? I have no clue, but I did. My friend Vivian, who is Chinese (no I am not racist, but this is pertinent to the story), got some sort of fish. It was big and creepy and reminded me of a piranha. She told us that it was customary in China to first eat the eye of the fish. I was like, "ok, I should eat an eye". Wtf? Like, seriously Caleb, what are you thinking? Apparently I wasn't, because I ate it. Don't believe me? I have a video. It was freaking nasty. (creepy voice) "Things that make you go  ugh"

It didn't effect me right away but for some reason my mind could not stop dwelling on the fact that I had eaten a fish eye. Can you guess what happened? Yep, I totally vomited. And it was sad. I watched all this beautiful food that I loved so much come right back out of my mouth in a not so beautiful form. Made me want to cry. 

And guess what was at the top of the pile? The fish eye. And it was just looking at me saying "haha sucker. That's what you get".

Ok, I'm sorry. That was a little much. Would it make you feel any better that I never saw the fish eye? Ok, I thought so.

Only 24 hours till I come home!!

Well alright then, not everyone clap and cheer at once. Bastards. ;)

(sleep)

That Little B****

Wednesday - March 23, 2011 - Spain (Girona)

Day Six

Hello again. It's me Caleb. I hope that you already know that by now. If you don't, leave this site and never come back. Just kidding. But it might not be a bad idea to learn more about me if you are going to continue to read this blog. 

I'm still loving Girona and the surrounding countryside. I never imagined that I would feel this way for another place besides the united states. I'm beginning to like the idea of calling it my home. I secretly say "I'm going home." when I leave the group to go back to my room. How sad is that? People and city of manhattan, you need to step it up. Fast.

That wasn't very nice was it? Maybe I should just say city, because I really do miss all my peeps. Well, most of you.

Tuesday had to be my favorite day so far. We had our first cooking class. It was at this five star restaurant on the countryside of Girona. The place was gorgeous. Notice this reoccurring theme? Our teacher's name was Chef Vincent. He was freaking hilarious. And he cussed. A lot. We became good buddies fast. My favorite quote of his? He was talking  about going to the market one day and he wanted to buy this great cut of meat. The only problem was that he was like third in line. He said he noticed this lady in front of him had her eye on the same piece. He then proceeded to tell us that he thought to himself "that little bitch is going to get it before me." and sure enough, she did. I would have been knocking me some little bitch on the side of the head and running away with that piece of meat. Thats probably a lie, but I'm not really sure because I've never been in that situation before. I guess I just don't feel so passionate about the meat I eat. 

Such dirty minds.

Anyways, we made several different types of food. We had cod, potatoes, tortillas (I think it was really quiche), mushroom mush balls, and of course, wine. The best part of this was that we got to eat the finished product and it was absolutely amazing. Not bad for first timers.  I am so excited to try to make this at home and for our second cooking class on friday.

Today, we visited small niche markets of chocolate and cheese. Yummy! 

The chocolatier that we visited would put any chocolatier in the United States to shame. This guy was a very sophisticated, very nice older man. His wife was just as amazing. Although, I do have to say, she kind of talked like one of the aliens off of Mars Attacks. But who cares? I don't. Especially when they make chocolate that would make God happy.  Not that God isn't happy. Hopefully you know what i meant. Actually, this guy is so famous for his chocolate, even Prince Charles of England buys his chocolates from him. Awesome right? If you are not impressed, feel free to leave and go stuff your face with something not famously known. My parents should be happy though. I bought them some, and it was freaking expensive, but so worth it. I just hope it makes it back to the U.S. without melting or getting damaged.

Our next stop was a small, small, family owned and operated, goat cheese producer. First impression: this is gross. If you have never had the chance to eat goat cheese, I dare you to go find some and try to munch on it for more than five seconds. It can be some pretty potent stuff. Well the smell of this place wasn't much better. Thank God I have the ability to get used to any smell within ten seconds because I may have had to leave and vomit. But this guy and his mom were so nice and they had perfected the art of good goat cheese, that I left very impressed. I even sampled several pieces of the cheese and didn't even get sick. They also made plain yogurt. Usually I dont like plain yogurt, but again, they had perfected it and I loved it. Absolutely a great place to visit.

Our last stop for the day was the IRTA. I can't remember off the top of my head what exactly this meant, but I can tell that it was a food science research institute. Now, I'm not a big fan of research. I find it very boring and it's one of the main reasons I don't want to go to grad school. But this place was very cutting edge and everyone there was working on some really interesting projects. For a couple of hours, I was definitely into the idea of going this route with my degree. Then I remembered all five thousand other things that I wanted to do with my life and I had me a new topic to think about for the plane ride home.

Beautiful day. Beautiful places. 

Didn't take long for my roommate to ruin it with his nastiness. He's so gross, I can't even write about it. Yeah, I'll let your thoughts marinate on that till I get home.

(sleep) 

It's like a cup of hot sex!

Monday - March 21, 2011 - Spain

Day Four

Quote of the day - "It's like a cup of hot sex!" (explanation to come)

So, I know I skipped a few days but I feel as if I  have been shuffled around like a hog at a feedlot causing all my days to blur together. I can't remember which day I did what. You don't mind, do you? Good, because I wouldn't care care if you did. 

This is what I have done in the past few days.

Visited the museum of contemporary art. This place was magnificent. The walk up to the massive building made me feel like I was walking up to the U.S Capitol. It was gorgeous. The art wasn't bad either. Lots and lots of nudity. Don't freak out, but I kind of like this type of art. I said don't freak out! It's not like I'm a creeper who takes photos of nude art and drools over them in the privacy of my own home. Something about the vulnerability of humans and the beauty of a nude body really strikes my artistic nerve. This definitely made the museum more interesting. Plus there was a huge ass hall that you could scream your head off in and it would never echo. I spent a lot of time in this hall contemplating why this is so. I still haven't figured that one out. 

Visited the paladu de la musica. I blame my liking of this museum on my extreme liking of all things music. This place was very rich in classical music, opera, traditional Spanish music, and even contemporary music. The building was intricately designed with many models and sculptures of major artifacts of the arts and music. The acoustics were awesome as well. This museum inspired me to start playing my flute again. I'm super excited.

Visited  La Segrada de Familia. Another piece of magnificent structure designed by famous artist Gaudi. I'm not really a religious person but I definitely got into it during this visit. The church is one of a kind building and trumps most other churches I have seen when it comes to architectural design. The only problem that I had with this building is that it was a little clustered with its sculptures. Gaudi kind of went overboard when it came to this. Everything clumped together just made the building (from the outside) look like large melted candles. I don't really understand why he did this. The inside, though, was totally different. Everything had a modernesque look to it and it kind of clashed with its shell. My favorite part was the stained glass windows. They were so colorful and so vibrant it was a little overwhelming. Overall, I was very impressed. 

Visited an apartment complex designed by Gaudi. This didn't have very many sculptures as most of his other works did, but it did contain many curvatures. I don't really know how to explain this without showing you pictures. I can show you if you ask politely. 

This is the gist of what we did over the past few days. Today, we headed for Girona. But before we did this, we visited a pastry school and we were able to sample some chocolate. This is where the daily quote came in. Tyler, my roommate and one I have many stories to tell you about (and please remind me of this), took one sip and within seconds proceeded to say this. How freaking hilarious. I only wish that I would have heard it myself because it would have made for a better story. Nevertheless, I laughed most of the day with this one. 

Off to Girona. Now, I wish I could tell you that the trip to Girona was through beautiful countryside that would put anything in America to shame, but I honestly can't. Actually, I can't tell you anything because I found this trip to be a prime opportunity to catch up on the sleep that I have been missing so very much. Yep ladies and gentlemen, my face hit the hard, lame-ass excuse for a chair, so hard that I literally had thread lines imprinted on my forehead for most of the day. This didn't help  my receding hairline either. I'm sure that the sandpaper cloth really yanked out some of my fading, ever so important, hair follicles. Oh well. I felt regenerated enough to last through the rest of the day.

Girona was beautiful. Plus there weren't as many people. But it didn't take long for me to find something to complain about. 

Arriving at the hotel, I was again impressed by how awesome and modern the lobby of Hotel Peninsular was. If ever there was a way of distorting the truth through a facade, this place did it well. My room was shit. My room is shit. My dogs doghouse would have been better than the hand I was so cleverly dealt here. And that is saying a lot because my dog doesn't have a doghouse. It smelled like swampy crotch. Plus the fact that my roommate probably hadnt taken a shower in more than a week, didnt help matters much. Needless to say, I didnt spend much time in that hell hole. Adios you piece of shit. 

I know what you all are thinking. I should just be happy that I get to spend my spring break in another country so all other things are just moot and that I should just suck it up. You are right... For the most part. But damn it, I spent four grand to come over here, I expect better rooms than this. They should have been rooms lined in gold for that kind of money. Not really. I just like to complain and hyperbolize.

The city of Girona was crisp and clean, with every street lined with chique clothing stores that makes one feel like they are rich and have no need to wear t-shirts bought at wal-mart. But this was just a feeling. I am only rich enough to buy wal-mart t-shirts. Thank you for reminding me assholes. 

We proceeded to climb at least a mile through the city to this secret garden that i could have just died and gone to heaven in. It was absolutely gorgeous. I have never seen such views of a city and such beautiful landscaping in one place, I kind of got light-headed by the sheer magnificence of it all. I was loving Girona more and more each second. I could definitely see myself living out the rest of my days right here. Honestly, it made me stop thinking about everyone at home, all the problems that I was going to have to face when I got home, all the people that I was going to have to talk too. For once, on this trip, I was living for the moment.  I had never felt so stress free in my entire life. If there was ever a time for God to take me, right then would have been it. 

Back to reality. Remember Caleb, this is only a trip. You have to go back. Too bad. I was enjoying my fairy tale.

We visited a cathedral after the garden. I don't really have much to say about it because after three cathedral visits, they all began to look alike. I have pictures though.

Funny story. After the cathedral, we still had about and hour and a half before we had to meet back up with Ivan, our tour guide, to go to dinner. Well you know how americans have to eat at least every five hours because any longer than that we become cranky due to lack of food? Well we were getting cranky. I was getting bitchy (elevated crankiness). We needed food. And damn it, if we were going to have tapas for dinner, we wanted fast food for a snack. Lucky us, we found exactly what we wanted.  And good god was it delicious. Only problem was, we were not hungry for dinner. But Ivan was so nice and we already had reservations, we proceeded to stuff our faces an hour later. I felt like a plump pig getting ready to be roasted for Christmas dinner. All I was missing was an apple in my mouth.

Long day right? Agreed. I slept like a baby. Although, my roommate scares me so I tried sleeping with one eye open. That didnt work. I feel lucky to still be alive and have my dignity attached.

(sleep)

Day Two - Spain 2011 - "Apparently I'm a feedlot pig"

Friday - March 18, 2011 - Spain

Day Two

Ok, I'm not going to lie, I didn't do much sleeping. The plane was too small, we had a crying baby and a man that sneezed so loud I think people on Saturn could have heard him. Is it bad that I wanted to punch them both? Now don't get your panties in a bunch, I would never punch a baby. That indeed would be very horrible. But you must understand something. I value sleep very much. Next to eating, it is one of my favorite things to do. So when someone (even a baby) fucks with my sleep, I imagine doing bad things to punish them..... What a bunch of dirty minds. Get your head out of the gutters folks. 

When I woke up to the point where I knew I wasn't going to fall asleep again and there happened to be no sneezing man or crying baby at the moment, I found the flight to be somewhat peaceful. Everyone was pretty much asleep and I enjoyed being able to just sit there, watch people sleep, and reflect on my happy little life.

Phase two of my in-flight thinking. This phase causes me to think about why I do the things I do, and why I don't do more things that I want to do. Apparently I'm more of a pussy than I originally thought. This is definitely not true, but since this piece is about my trip to Spain, I will save this for another blog on another day.

I got two whole hours of just being able to do this. Amazing! I was able to figure a lot of things out. And believe me, you can bet your ass I'm definitely going to change some things when I get back. Step one of the refurbished "why not" policy.

Sunrises on a plane are so much prettier. If you have never been able to experience this. Do it. It's worth the $800 round trip ticket. The colors are SO beautiful. Everything is more clear, more vivid, it's almost an out of this world experience. I felt like I was on my way to meet God and I was perfectly content. It even made breakfast taste better. And that is definitely saying something considering the food is equivalent to the food in prison. What a way to start my food science trip. 

An hour after breakfast, we made it to Barcelona. Time - 8:30 a.m. Time in Kansas - 2:30 a.m. I was super excited, but I didn't feel like I was in another country. It was still cool though. Getting luggage was no problem and soon we were on our way through the Spanish city. First thing to note, the weather was spectacular. That alone could've convinced me to stay here for the rest of my life. Second thing to note, there were a lot of people. Now, I didn't particularly like this. I was already worried that airport security had gone through my bag and stolen something, I didn't want to have to worry about some pick-pocketer stealing all my shit and then having there way with my perfect identity. Luckily, I never had a problem. Or least invent noticed it yet.

Our hotel was gorgeous! Definitely the nicest hotel I have stayed in for a long time. It had to be five star. Pictures are posted on Facebook if you want to see it. 

We were not allowed to rest very much because our chaperones wanted us to get used to the time so that we didn't have much jet lag. This sucked. Remember what happens when someone messes with my sleep? Yeah, I was ready to go Kung Fu on someone's ass and I didn't much care If I had to spend the rest of my life in a Spanish prison making everyone my bitch. We spent all day walking from site to site and my feet begin to look like big fat purple grapes. Guess I didn't pack the right shoes. And because of my lack of sleep I didn't really absorb anything that we did that day. I know that we visited a gothic cathedral, a fresh food market, and I'm fairly sure we visited a Picasso museum with hundreds of his original artwork. I remember this museum because Picasso was a very peculiar man and it showed in his art. His first works were great. Original, quiet, normal artsy stuff. Then for some reason, unbeknownst to people, he started becoming very pornographic and abstract. I think he was tripping on acid. He had to be to be popping out the artwork he was. Im definitely not judging though because I liked the art. I kind of had a connection with it. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Weird, right?

Dinner was an interesting experience. My first try with tapas. For those that do not know what tapas is, look it up. I ain't here to be your teacher. 

I love you all. ;) 

Anyways, I got to try leeks, some sort of peppers, ham roll ups, blue cheese balls, cured meat, several different types of cheeses, some quiche-looking thing, squid and some sort of marinated pork. It was all delicious, minus the leeks, only because I don't really know what they are. Oh, and I cant forget the wine! This trip was made a whole lot better when Spain decided that I was old enough to order my own wine and I was able to drink it without worrying about getting an M.I.P. And oh my, did I drink the wine. Two whites and one red. Several glasses of each. Yowza! Can you say tipsy? 

All in all, it was a great day. Pictures will be posted on facebook or if you are one of my good friends, I might just show you personally.

(sleep)

Barcelona Day One

Ok so here is my day one journal for Spain. I know, I know, it's late. But hey people, I'm kinda sorta trying to enjoy Spain without relying on technology too much. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to comment. More will come. Muchos gracias.


Thursday - March 17, 2011 - Spain

First day

Hello fellow humans of the world. Today I left for Spain. My ultimate plan is to never come back. Im going to find me a hot Spanish native, fall in love, get married, have kids and open up a winery. Adios to the rest of the world.

As we all know, this is never going to happen. Reality does not acknowledge fairy tales very much. But hey, I can still dream right? 

Anyways, I have much to tell you so let's get started. 

Let me first say that I have perfected the art of procrastination. Whether it's homework, reading a chapter out of my textbook or studying for a test, you can bet that it never happens till at least three hours before I have to have it done. Packing for this trip was no different. The van headed for the airport left at 6:30. Guess who still wasn't packed by 3? Hola! Me llamo Caleb.

Imagine how I felt when I woke up in the morning? I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off. For the life of me, I couldn't remember what the hell I had packed and what I didn't. Talk about stressful. Oh well, it happens. 

(sleep)

Oh KCI, how ugly thou art. I mean seriously. The architects must live a bland and boring life to have designed something like that. Blah! 

Luggage - checked in.
Security - passed without a problem.
Breakfast - f##king expensive.
Two hours of waiting - boring.

Lucky for me, when the plane arrived, I got to sit by my best friend Chelsey Kriley and chaperone Mishelle Hay. Mishelle is just absolutely hilarious and this was chelsey's first flight ever. I was so excited to scare the shit out of her. 

That never happened. She took it like a man and didnt even flinch. Hell, I think I flinched more than she did. Boo, you nasty whore.  For those that don't know, chelsey and I have a very special relationship. You could say that we experienced a mid life crisis early on that caused us to not talk for about 4 months. But when we finally made up, we were closer than ever.  Anyways, it was a great day to experience the first flight of a friend. 

(sleep)

Atlanta. You make KCI look like a naked homeless man living in a cardboard box. You made my day. Although, your Internet service could have been better. Not too shabby though. The panda express lunch absolutely made up for it. 

It wasn't long before our big ass plane showed up. I was beginning to have homesickness before boarding. Why? I tend to think bad things will happen and you all can imagine what sort of stuff I was cooking up. It freaked me the  hell out. If I died, how sad would it be to never see my family again, or my friends, or my puppy Ellie. Gross. It made me want to vomit. Naturally you start thinking of all the things  you should have said before this trip. All the ones you should have told "I love you." The one you should've told  "I can't stop thinking about you and I think I'm falling for you.." All the opportunities that you so casually passed up on because you just knew that you would get another chance to do it.

Sad day right? Exactly. That is what half my flight to Spain entailed. Of course it didn't help that I had an assortment of accompanying soundtrack music to imagine how my funeral would go and how everyone would feel if I died. 

Good grief, I sound depressed. I promise you, I'm not. But I can't help it. It's how I process flying. 

But I knew that I couldn't do this to myself. If I sat there for much longer thinking about it, I was going to have to get off the plane in Barcelona and come right back and go do everything that I might not have ever been able to do again.

So, I watched The King's Speech. Good movie. I liked it a lot.

(sleep)

Love is Fickle

Just a warning. This isn't a nicey-nice blog. It's blunt. And it will give you a great insight to how I think. Some of you may hate me after this. We'll talk about later. Hope you enjoy.

The concept of love is fickle. (cheesy opening line right?) And who the hell starts their blog with a posting about love? I mean, that is just so cliche!

Screw you. I do.

The reason I started this blog is to share how I feel about certain things. And for the past 24 hours, I have been contemplating the idea of love. (lame!)

When it comes to love, I tend to lean towards the definition of Dr. Temperance Brennan - Love doesn't exist. It is just a combination of chemicals in the brain that make you feel tingly in weird and wonderful places. - Ok, the tingling part is my own little tangent, but I figured it fit in pretty well.

The other definition? "All you need is love." "Love is the only thing that gets people through their day." "Without love, we are all lost." Blah, blah, blah, blah blah. What a bunch of hopeless romantics.

I think one can easily see that I don't hold love in the same regard as most people. I think that it is a very complicated and painful experience that I don't much like to participate in. Don't get me wrong. I practice "love". I love my family. I love my dog. I love my friends. I absolutely LOVE food (hence the reason I am fat ass). And I have been in love. Head over heels in love.

"Oh shit. Here it comes. Some girl broke this dudes heart and he has forever given up on love and is determined to live out the rest of his days alone with 50 dogs and 30 cats. Definitely cliche. I'm out!"

For those that decided that they have had enough, adios. For those still with me, pay attention. It get's better.

It's true. Some girl (or a couple of girls) broke my heart. And it hurt. Bad. Really bad. Both times it took greater than 6 months for me to stop constantly thinking about them. To be honest, I still think about them at least once a day. Let me just say that this is very stressful. All I want to do is get up in the morning, drag my not-so-happy ass to campus, get done with classes, attend all my meetings, come home, sleep, and repeat the next day, without having an an image of past relationships pop into my head. But, it ain't happening. I have come to live with this. At least the image pops into my head without having that "oh, I think I'm gonna be sick" feeling with it.

This is why I have casually said to anybody asking, that I will never date another person. I will never fall in love with another person. I would rather pour my whole life into something that I know will only ever benefit me in the end, than to pour my heart and sole into something that within a blink of an eye can be done with and will haunt me for the rest of my life.

"So, this guy has given up on love. Sad day."

Wrong.  (And for the person I had the long conversation with last night. I'm sorry. This is going to contradict everything I said. Blame it on the whole night of thinking after our convo.) I absolutely have not given up on love. After all the hard work I put into building psyche walls in my head so that I don't let my emotional roller coaster take ahold of me, I think they would crumble like tiny pebbles if given the chance to love someone again.

"Good grief. You are pissing me off dude. Make up your f****** mind. To love or not to love?"

Hold your horses. That last statement of mine didn't cancel everything out. My opinion has an amendment.  I have not given up on love (repetition Caleb, move on). But I am ok with not finding another person to love. The pain that I feel for being alone is nowhere near the pain I feel for losing someone that I love, because we had differences. I can deal with the pain of being alone. I have for two years now and I have been a very optimistic person. But the pain of losing someone for complicated reasons is absolutely unbearable. And I hate it. It turns me into a zombie. I stop paying attention to things. I don't want to hang out with anybody. I don't want to hang out with my family. I become depressed, pessimistic, and all I want to do is to not exist or become some cartoon character obviously isn't real. 

Some of you are probably shocked by this. Probably never knew that I have ever felt this way. I do a very good job of hiding it. I have to. I don't want people to see that and start judging me, because that's not who I am. I like to have fun, hang out with everyone, party like a rockstar and make people laugh.

So why would I choose to love someone again and start a relationship that could end and turn me into my own personal zombie? Now that's a big question. I don't know. What I do know is that it will happen again. And to be honest, it scares the shit of me. Because I don't want it to. I really don't.

Want to know a secret? I assume you do since you have stuck with me this whole time. 

It's already starting to happen again.

Please God, help me.

Peace, love and other miscellaneous happy things... CK