A work in progress

So target guy and I are allegedly going on a date. Do I foresee this as a long term relationship? No. I honestly don't. I'm an old 27 and he's a young 23. But stranger things have happened right?  

I'm not an ageist (I say this as I'm no longer mixing my vodka with anything but taking straight shots from the bottle with a dr.pepper chaser) but you can just tell. I'm an old 27 because of what I've been through. No I don't mean the same emotional turmoil everyone experiences.  I'm talking about my cancer and if you think I'm beating a dead horse go get that diagnosis and tell me how much is affected your entire life and everything else. 

He's a young 23 because he hasn't had to deal with anything yet. And I hope he never does. I hope he can live the samecare free existence I did until I was slapped with that cinder block of reality.

There's so much I miss about my life before my diagnosis. I miss smoking. I miss thinking I'm invincible and life is a neverending map. I miss not having my mind plagued with all the what ifs. 

But now the what ifs have turned into so what's. So what if it comes back? If it comes back I'll throw in the towel and do what I want to do. Smoke again. Smoke pot again and live life until life, the hour glass it is runs out and be happy.

My worst fear is that with target guy he won't be able to handle or understand what happened to me. As expierence has proven most can't. 

I'm also worried he won't care for SIRSY. Which will be a deal breaker. But it will be what it will be and maybe I'll have sex for the first time in 16 months. 

I'm always going to be a changing and sometimes evolving person. And some days that turns out great and some days it's a royal mess. But I'll know when I've found Prince Charming when he accepts and wants that. Cancer or not. Damage or not. Evolution or devolution or not. Perfect or imperfect. 

Turn up the radio...and the truth will come out

As we all know (unless you don't read my blog...in which case I guess you wouldn't) after years of writing Madonna off I finally gave her a chance and her last album MDNA really blew me away. Yes, my gay tribe, I know I'm more than a year behind as far as this album is concerned and behind from birth as far as Madonna is concerned but I have my reasons. 

I stated a few before but unlike most of my musical tastes that compromise a myriad of "controversial" artists (that my mother swears I only like because they piss her off)I rejected her. I grew up around her music because my sister had her cassettes and you're an idiot if you are unaware of her completely. But my outward loathing of her (that has since been relinquished) began when the inevitable comparisons to Lady Gaga started and Madonna's outward attack on her started.  I could see the surface comparisons but if you follow Lady Gaga from the start like I accidentally did you know they're truly nothin alike. If she's [Lady Gaga] borrowed or "stole" (which is a ridiculous term to use as there isn't one single completely unique recording artist out there) from anyone it would be Cher and Annie Lenox. If you go back and watch Cher's early days a lot of Lady Gaga's looks can be seen. Same with Annie Lenox. Both of which have respect and support her. 

The main differences between Lady Gaga and Madonna is Madonna is an entertainer. Not a singer. Very limited vocal capabilities and if she sings at all it's too her own voice track. All the queens in the gayuniverse can deny this but watch her concerts, it's crystal clear. Lady Gaga is both an entertainer and a singer who will pull out a few accapella numbers. 

The other main difference between the two in my opinion is Lady Gaga doesn't do things or dress the way she does simply for shock value. There's a thought process behind it and it can only be called art (yes! Even her meat dress). Madonna does things for the mere shock value and it's a brilliant buisness move. She's made herself cotinuely relevant by doing shocking things and having absolutely no continuity. Lady Gaga does have continuity. 

But before the queens strap on their strappy spike heels and burn rainbows and crosses on my front lawn (crosses because of the like a prayer video, not for religious purposes) what changed my opinion about Madonna was for some reason I watched the MDNA concert and was blown away. 

This lead me to buy the MDNA album (fucking edited because I could only find it at walmart where you can buy a gun and bullets but not a parental advisory CD) which I can't get enough of.

But there's one song that really struck a cord with me (pun intended). Some of the lyrics are on the picture above, the ones I find most poignant. 

It just lifted my spirits and helped me look at things from the outside, something I don't excel at which my extended family can not only attest to but have substantial proof. 

It really made me take a long look at all the actions I've taken In the past few months and in doing so letting the past go which I should've done in the first place. This song "Turn up the radio" made me realize I was holding on to more than expired emotional hatred and I wasted so much energy and pushed my family away in the process and gained what? Nothing. 

Being able to look at everything I had done, felt, said, yelled, and typed while listening to this song made me realize what an ass I was and that if the other side of my family truly didn't care about me they'd have nothing to do with me at all. And I need to stop being so centered around my feelings and not only look at my actions but look at it from their perspectives. 

No, I didn't get the kind of support I thought I wanted back then but then if I look at the otherside of my family's feelings I would have found all the answers a year ago. 

Thanks to the Madonna's power of clairvoyance I looked at how I dealt with two of the most important people in my life's sickness and subsquent death.  I tried to avoid it, to hide. Not because I was selfish but because I didn't want to believe it was happening and I couldn't handle it. Maybe this is where they were coming from too. 

But there is no denying I was wrong. And I wish I had had this ability last year but perhaps without all the back and forth conflict I never would have. 

I've already changed a lot (contrary to one once family friend's opinion). I stepped up and am working hard to pay my family back because of the many times they've had to have my back. I won't lie. Working a 63 hour week is really and truly hard. But it's about time they got to have things easy and if that means staying up for 17 hours straight to go home and sleep for 3 hours to go back to work for 9 hours then so be it. I'm not sick and I'm not a drug addict anymore and there's no excuse for me not to contribute what I can or even better more than I can. 

And I also wolill say a very few number of coworkers haven't made this transition from child care and teaching to residential support counsellor easy or in some ways possible. One in particular who continues to make it more difficult for me in the most abrasive way. But it's worth it. I can show my family I care and I have their backs for a change. 

Who knew Madonna could be used as therapy and self reflection and not just as background music for a gay bar where everyone is snorting lines in the bathroom and popping mollies and e like they're going out of style while having unprotected sex with complete strangers sometimes in the bathroom but usually on the dance floor?   

We were born to die

If anyone reads my blog you'll know I've had a lot of wasted family drama going on. Most of it took place on Facebook considering it seems to be the only time I have certain people's undivided-attention. 

Well as you can imagine people who aren't in my family got involved. 

The focal point of this monstrous drama hurricane was, for me at least, my cancer and their lack of and continued lack of support. 

Well this one person who got involved beyond appropriate means (more power to ya to post responses. If I'm going to put  up anything for the whole world to see its anyone's right to respond.) and made this statement to me that until just a few moments ago I realized made absolutely no sense:

I thought after the cancer we'd see a more kind and thankful John. 

I'm baffled and bamboozled. It's as if the subtext is cancer patients and survivors got it for some reason, not just happened to have it. As if there is some sort of cancer drawing where from a collective of all the "miserable" people a few names are drawn to teach them a lesson. 

Doesn't that seem cruel and senseless?

Did I come out of it changed? How could I not. I, unlike a lot of the lucky populous, was made completely,totally, and abruptly aware of my mortality. Everyone thinks they understand this concept to a certain degree but until you're sitting in a sterile doctors office with a decree that the world's most deadliest killer is inside of your body you realize how feeble and fragile these outer shells we call bodies are. 

And I hope that no one else is this world is ever burdened with the reality of this fact, foolish as that may be. 

But cancer is not a learning lesson. It's purpose isn't to make people "better" or "kinder". It's sole purpose is to kill and if it doesn't kill you and you "survive" you wonder if its really gone at all and waste many of the days you have left worrying about all the what ifs. 

For example, I recently injured my tongue. The opposite side of the side that the cancer had grown ever so quickly on. And I thought I was past this point, had made progress, but for 5 days I was convinced the cancer had returned and I was doomed. Doomed to die, to lose even more of my tongue, to lose my entire tongue and the ability to speak and so on and so forth. 

So you tell me how cancer could improve anyone's temperament, attitude, or personality with a war constantly waging in your mind that the world is blind to because they've all decided since you seem normal on the outside that the fight is over. Or if you do mention it you're having a pity party or feeling sorry for yourself. 

I can be strong. Most days I'm capable of putting all the worries and unanswered questions about my future away for a few hours. But no, I will never be the same. And what has put me in a place to never to be the same was not intended to benefit anyone. There is no moral to be learned from cancer as it isn't a fairy tale. There are no fairies, no dragons, no talking animals or over grown beanstalks, no magical glass slippers or mermaid fins. Just a dark monster that can never be removed, surgically or otherwise. 

The moral of this blog is- don't open your mouth about something you could never comprehend and wonder what it would be like to be in my shoes- a mere miracle I survived, then survived the treatment and somehow managed to not go insane.