June has been a horrible month... at least, for me.

First, I had an intense, adverse reaction to abruptly coming off my anti-depressants. It was stupid of me to stop taking them the way I did. But I didn't think they were working, and the $40 per prescription was money better spent elsewhere. After six weeks, I thought I was in the clear. Then one night, I crashed. It was severe and scary, and it started a month-long journey back to normal that still has me feeling a bit wobbly.

Then there were unexpected financial issues that are better left undetailed here. I'm still ironing those out, but I think (and pray) that I have it all under control. Time will tell. I'm still trying to figure out how it can be that I'm making more money now than I ever have in my life, but I'm also more broke than I've ever been in my life.

In the midst of all of this, I had to put together a week-long "history of gays in music" special for my show. I had terrific help in the leg work, thank goodness. But the pressure for it to be extra-good was ALL on me. I think we pulled it off. But who knows? After all, for every positive word, there's one that's negative. I still have a live edition of my Sunday afternoon music show to do tomorrow, and then I'll be done with pride season for another year.

Then, there is my 46th birthday in a couple days. 46. Yikes. I've always loved the notion of getting older and maturing into a better version of my younger self. But this birthday is hard. For all of the beautiful things I have in my life, I'm still struggling with and for others. It feels harder than ever to keep pushing right now. I feel exhausted and a little broken down.

Things will get better. At the core of my life, I have the most amazing man in my partner. He has been a bona fide saint. He gives me endless love and hope when I feel empty. He is the best. My radio co-hort Keith has also been a good and true friend. Plus, I get to do work that I love... even though I'm grateful that it'll be a little while before I have to trace the coming out of another recording artist. :)

I'm just hoping that July is a little calmer!

"Fucking poseurs... with their fucking faux-hawks... once upon a fucking time, you either did it all the way, or you stayed the fuck home."

I chuckled to myself as the clerk at Revolution Records couldn't contain his disgust over a clique of young twentysomethings who left the store in an eye-rolling huff. They'd appeared shocked that they couldn't find "underground" remixes of "Pokerface" by Lady Gaga. The clerk, who looked about my 45 years of age, continued to rant to his co-worker for a good 15 minutes after the kids left.

Part of me understood his irritation. Revolution, I discovered Saturday afternoon, is among the scant few indie music shops left in downtown New York. Even more rare is the fact that it's not lost in punk nostalgia. It's an actual venue devoted to current grass-roots bands vying to be the counter culture to a Lady Gaga-dominated musical landscape. And it's drowning in a sea of shops within a five-mile radius that is glutted with crap by Gaga and her contemporaries.

It's funny. As I stood in that shop, I felt completely out of place. I was no longer steeped in that counter culture. I flipped through the racks of discs and recognized only a scant few bands. I felt as uninformed as those twentysomethings, but I felt as cranky about those kids as the clerk did. I'd just spent several hours tracing the paths I used to walk when I was younger. Most of my favorite haunts were either gone or barely hanging on. Cue "This Used To Be My Playground" by Madonna.

As I wandered, I found myself remembering more than the places I loved visiting back in the '80s. I remembered my friends, most of whom are long-gone from my life. I remembered record-shopping, going clubbing, hanging out in cafes and diners. I remembered fantasizing about the future. The places I'd visit someday. The stuff I wanted to do. The man I wanted to become. All the while, my iPod pumped a playlist of songs from that period of my life. At one point, I felt so completely overwhelmed by memories and forgotten dreams that I needed to sit down. Of course, I landed in the hang-out hub of downtown Manhattan: Washington Square Park.

In so many ways, I've made it. I've escaped my family and their endless drama. I have a terrific man in my life. And I have a job that I genuinely enjoy. But in other ways, I'm still waiting for my actual life to begin... the part of life where I feel free. Completely free. You know what's funny? I used to know what complete freedom looks like. In my mind. Back in my 20s, it looked a lot like the accumulation of things I've achieved. Now, I'm not at all sure. Because, let's face it...

I'm nearly 46 and I'm still clearing the rubble of my childhood. I have a wonderful partner, but I also often feel like it's my responsibility to make sure that he's happy. To be clear and fair, he does NOT enforce or encourage that idea. Quite the opposite, in fact. It's all in my head. And I've come to accept that even the externally pretty jobs have occasional crap beneath the surface that distinguishes it from being a fun hobby. As the cliche goes, it's called "work" for a reason.

So, how does a life of good fortune leave you feeling bittersweet (as someone recently pointed out to me about my life)? Does aging require moments of melancholy over people and places that are no longer there? Is it wrong to be like that clerk in Revolution... clinging to the past, while trying to keep it alive in the present? I don't have an answer. Even if you try to answer it, I'm not sure I'll honestly believe that you really have it. Y'see, I don't know that there is an actual answer.

I enjoyed my afternoon strolling through my old "playground." Yes, it made me sad at times. But it also made me smile. It gave me an immeasurably feeling of joy and comfort. It was sweet to relive those days in my mind. I had a good time. I had good friends. I loved the youthful romance of the time. I believed the world was full of possibilities.

If there was anything I would like to bring back from my young adulthood, that would be it... to believe in possibilities... to look at life more like an open door and less like a locked room.

Onward...      :)

I spent most of today fidgeting around the apartment. The weather is crap in my town, and it's the day before payday. Not the best combination. For some reason, my phone has been ringing off the proverbial hook today with people trying to sell my car insurance, dental insurance, and space in a retirement village (HA!). It added to my increasingly crabby mood.

After a loving nudge from Shane to "give in to the activity of rest," I curled up in bed with the cats and my favorite "Gilmore Girls" DVD playing on the telly. It didn't take long before I'd gone from feeling mildly out of sorts to feeling lush and relaxed. I did it. I sucessfully turned my brain off. After two episodes, I started to drift off into a lovely nap. And then...

RING!

It was a call from work. Argh. I snapped out of bed and into work mode almost instantly. Fortunately, there was no drama, although the person who rang has a perpetual tone of terror in her voice. It took a moment to cut through that and realize that there was only a minor issue that needed my attention. Once I did that, I was able to be happy to have gotten the call. Being a life-long control queen, I prefer to make all decisions surrounding my show. I also hate returning from time off to surprises. I'd much rather be hunted down!

With that issue resolved, I climbed back into bed. It took about 15 minutes and another episode of "Gilmore Girls" for me to relax and unwind again. And then...

RING!

This time, it was Shane, urging me to check my email. How exciting it was to find his finished manuscript sitting there. I've been reading his efforts as he wrote them over the past year. But to open a file of 398 pages of his hard work. Wow. It was such a delicious moment. He's done a truly wonderful job. I cannot wait for the world to receive this book. It's funny and tragic and romantic and enlightening. I've been re-reading portions of the book since he hung up to hit the sack. I'm beyond proud of him.

After nearly throwing the phone against the wall today, I'm sure glad I picked up that last call.

So, I followed Shane's strong advice to reach out to a few old friends today. Remind me to never try that again.

Friend No. 1: Within 30 seconds, he was pitching himself and a recording artist I've already passed on as guests on my show. Never asked how I am. After the pitch and a brief monologue about his life, he hung up. This is a friend who has milked me for countless favors, and when I asked for one in return, he couldn't (or wouldn't) do it. Next! :)

Friend No. 2: My question of "how are you?" triggered a barrage of tales from his life. It's 20 or minutes later as I begin to type this. He's still going on in AIM IMs about himself, and he's yet to ask how I am. He's very sweet, but a little lost inside himself right now. I'm trying to tell myself that he probably doesn't get a word in with his partner, who is a bit overbearing and a chatterbox.

Friend No. 3: After a promising start of conversation, he asked, "How in the world did you get your job anyway? If you can be a radio host, don't you think I can, too? Can you get me a meeting there? I'd be so great on the radio, don'tcha think? Can you help me, please?" He gets a pass because I think unemployment panic is freaking him out. He's not really radio-ready, so I can't help him. But I did manage to calm him down a little.

I think my reclusive life is looking better now. :)

I don't think I'm doing this vacation thing properly.

It's Wednesday. Ideally, I've been free of work responsibilities since Friday afternoon. Hmmm... except for going into the studio on Sunday to record a special Memorial Day weekend edition of Feel The Spin... except for the 5 or so phone calls I've gotten from the office about silly stuff that could have waited until next week... and except for the fact that I'm going in today to record an interview with Adam Lambert and Kris Allen. The latter I want to do. Hell, if I'm going to labor through conversations with Jorge Nunez and Megan Joy, I'm getting my time with the two top dogs.

But it's not all external crap invading my time off. I don't really have anything special to do. Finances don't really allow for a trip, and Shane is in Wales. Mostly, I've been waking up pre-dawn, as usual. The body will do what it wants, and I'm so tightly set to my morning radio schedule that it's tough to break.

I've been mostly going for long walks. It's been nice. Good for clearing the head. But I'm also feeling static, a little bored, and like there should be more.

I was supposed to hang out with an old friend visiting from out of town this past weekend. I was stoked, since I don't really have any close friends to spend time with here. It didn't work out. First, she sorta blew me off. Then, I did the same. I felt bad for a moment. Then, I realized that silly circumstances would not have kept us from getting together, if we really wanted to see each other. I'm pretty certain that it was more a matter of us being in contact via email, and having to play out the "we must hang" game because she let slip that she was going to be in my town. It is what it is. I think we've both moved on.

Shane made a sadly valid point yesterday. He doesn't believe that I know how to relax. I think he's right. Once I stop moving, I start to obsess and stress about life. Will I ever feel financially solvent? What about this bill? What about that forthcoming expense? WIll I advance to the career level that I crave? Will the plans for Shane's move here next year happen without a hitch? Will we ever be able to get married properly with all of the federal protections we need? Will his book be successful? Will I ever lose weight? And it goes on... and on... and on... and on....

Ahh, the life of a chronic depressive! Hehehe...

The week isn't over, though. I'm going to give the rest of the week my best effort. At the minimum, I'm definitely enjoying not having to do the show for a few days. A break from the crush of show deadlines was so needed, and that part has been absolutely lovely.

Onward!

There are so many days when I bemoan the inordinate amount of time that I have to spend alone.

Not today. Today, I relished every moment I spent by myself.

First, I did my entire morning show alone. Keith needed to take the day off, and I grabbed the opportunity to test myself. What would it be like to be in the studio alone? I wanted to find out. Even though I've been doing Feel The Spin alone for several years, that's a pre-recorded show. Running a live board with commercials, phones, etc. is completely different. Ten minutes before air-time, I was nervous about the juggle.

Ten minutes into the show, I was having an absolute blast. The four hours that I was on the air sped by at lightning speed. There were no technical glitches. The phones hummed along as they always do. And I didn't fall on my face. I missed seeing my friend Keith, but I felt proud of myself. I'm now officially self-contained, self-sufficient, and not dependent on anyone to get myself and my show on the air. I love to collaborate. I love having someone to bounce off of. But I'm also a control queen. I need to know that I can run things as I see fit. I can. Even though it's not nearly as hard work, it feels like breaking the tape across the finish-line of a long Olympic marathon.

Tomorrow, the show goes back to normal, as Keith has been released from jury duty. It'll be awesome fun to have him back, though part of me wants to kick it solo again.

After work, I hit the street and enjoyed a nice long walk downtown. My favorite songs of the moment blasted out of my iPod and into my ears, as I pondered the future. There are so many little things I want to do for myself, starting with being more fit and more focused on my dreams. I love being part of a couple, part of a team, and part of a great company. But you're only good or of use to any of those things if you're keeping yourself happy. Simple concept. Hard to execute.

Today, I feel like I can do it.  :)

Every once in a while, the universe sends you a reminder of how much your life has changed over a chunk of time. I don't have a perfect life, but it's mine. I have a good partner, too many cats, and a job that I love. Alas, my 3am wake-up call for work has taken me out of life's "normal" loop. I don't get to see many of the friends I used hang with regularly. I don't even seem to be online at the same time as many of 'em. I was stoked when I ran into a great old pal on AIM a few minutes ago. And then...

Me:  So, how's it going? What's new?

Supposed Good Friend:  So much. Too much to type.

M:  I'm sure. Up to anything fun this weekend?

SGF:  We're all going to the Furball tonight, and then the Eagle later.

M:  All?

SGF:: Yeah, you know the usual crowd.

M:  Very cool. I was thinking that I might get out for a change, and go to the Furball. It would be so great to get see everyone. If I go, it'll be early. What time are you going to be there?

SGF:  Not sure. We're going to do dinner first. I'd ask you to join us, but it might be a little weird for everyone. Y'know, we've all sorta gone to a new place in our lives. I don't know how everyone would feel about adding someone to the mix on short notice. But it's nice to hear from you. Maybe we'll all do brunch or something sometime. I'll give you a call.

*signs off*

Huh? That felt odd and abrupt... especially from someone I once considered to be among my close friends. I'd been keeping in good email touch with him. Tried calling on the weekends. But contact dwindled over time. It's a bummer, but it happens.

Why do some people get so weird when you try to reconnect? I wasn't going to foist myself upon them tonight. Sure, I'd love some friendly company, but I'm not desperate. Also, I didn't expect them to sit frozen in time waiting for me. Like I said, I've long ago accepted that my old friends have moved on. What can you do, right? You settle into your current rhythm until a new one comes along.

Oh well... people are sometimes overrated. My cats and the TV are looking better and better. Think I'll just watch a little of "Everybody Loves Raymond."

Waking up from an upsetting dream to the sound of thunderous rain, as well as the persistent nudge of hungry cats, is not the best way to start a Saturday.

Thank goodness for the restorative powers of coffee! :)

It's been a mixed bag of a week. Among the high-points were meeting Jennifer Aniston at a press junket and reconnecting with Kylie Minogue for an off-site interview. Jen was gorgeous, charming, and she sparkled like an actual star. Kylie stunned me by recalling specific details of our past encounters, which were roughly 10 years ago. I swooned like a geeky fan-boy when she touched my chin and said, "oooh, the grey is very dashing!" :)

Both interviews will be airing on my morning show in the coming weeks.

Among the low points? An otherwise wobbly work-week that tested my patience and left me questioning some of the folks around me. It's not the end of the world. It's not even particularly dramatic. It's just a reminder that, at the end of the day, you have to own everything around you... especially when your name is in the title. Everybody may want a piece, but you can (and absolutely should) control what they get.

It's all good. Like I said, no drama. Just a wake-up call.

Speaking of a wake-up call, I finally caved in and kept an appointment with my doctor for a blood draw. If the truth be told, I've been rescheduling it for quite a while. My diligence in managing my diabetes has not been great in recent times. A note from my doc that said, "look, just come in and we'll fix whatever needs repair... just come in."

So, I sucked it up and went in. I'll find out the blood results next week, but the stuff you can cover in-office went better than anticipated. What I got out of the experience is that I need to make a new committment to myself. I have fun (kinda) with being one the "fat boys" on radio, but maybe it's time (once again) to shed that idea. I keep telling myself that I need a fresh approach to health, i.e. a new way to get fit. But that's bullshit. I'm smart enough to know that I just need to stop eating like a self-destructive hog and move my body. So simple, but so difficult for me. I'm going to try. I swear that I'm going to try.

Yesterday, I had a reminder that weight is never just about enjoying food. It was a true "a-ha moment."

I went with a colleague/friend to Magnolia Bakery en route to meet Kylie. He was craving a cupcake. I had already decided to refrain from having one, but I went into the shop with him. For about ten seconds, I relished the smell of fresh baked goods. Then I looked around and noticed the line of patrons. They had wide-eyed faces of glee as they stared at the counter of goodies. They looked kids staring at a pile of presents under a twinkling Christmas tree. My knee-jerk thought? "Calm down, you fucking pigs... like you need to eat cupcakes."

OUCH! Where did THAT come from???

I calmly told my colleague/friend that I was going to wait outside. But I was shaking on the inside. A couple of the proverbial dots were connected for me. Those thoughts I had were frequently spoken to me by folks in my family. They were ingrained in me. I wasn't a fat kid, but I was treated like I was. And I thought I was. But I wasn't. I was just an uber-shy kid who was an easy target for my more rowdy siblings and others in my family. It took YEARS for me to realize that. Unfortunately, that realization came years after I made myself as fat as I was called.

As a result of that relentless jabbing, I trained myself to never, ever look at things like food with gleeful anticipation. At least not in front of people of any sort. I could do it in jest (or as a means of urging others to eat and enjoy), but never for real or for myself. And, of course, I always punctuate my consumption of food with a joke about my weight before anyone else can lob one in my direction. I still function this way. I would rather starve until I can gorge in private than show that the gleeful anticipation that I saw displayed in that bakery yesterday.

Deep. Sad. But good that I have better understanding of myself. Clarity is scary. But now I can work on it. That's a good, good thing.

How you ever given serious thought to blowing up your life as it stands and starting completely over? If so, would anything from your past survive?

In the middle of work, running errands, and tending to other people's needs, I managed to squeeze in a LONG overdue visit to the barber. I got sheared down to a buzz-cut. Ahhh... :)

Shane hates buzz-cuts. So, for him, I grow my hair out every few months to make him happy. I hate the way it looks, but I have to confess that it IS nice when he plays with my hair when we're in bed.

But he's in Wales right now, and I could not take brushing my hair every 10 minutes. It's funny to me now that I used to wear my hair in a manic thrush of Paul Stanley-esque curls back in the '80s. I used to spend HOURS fussy with my hair everyday.

But not anymore.

As the barber shucked off what turned out to be a formidable pile of locks off my head, I felt like I could see the actual me returning.

I feel as good as new!