Life Unraveled

Nerves are a funny thing. As soon as I walked through security at Honolulu International this morning, I started to develop a mystery cough. By the time I reached the gate, this little tickle was becoming hard to ignore. It was turning into a full-blown hack, and a wet one at that. Stuff was coming up, big time. It felt like old stuff too, as if the phlegm of 40,000 years had waited for the perfect moment to emerge from its ancient, dark hiding spot in my lungs. Stepping onto the plane, I begin the search for my assigned seat, 31E. A dreaded middle seat. Cue more coughing. I locate it smack dab in the middle of the jam-packed 767, and to my surprise there is an elderly man sitting there, alongside a woman who I presume to be his wife. I kindly suggest to him that this is my seat, or at least that is what my boarding pass is telling me. He offers me a barter: 34G instead. I glance a few rows back. There it is. Right on the aisle, just the way I like it. I smile and nod in st...

May 18, 2012. It's here. My last day at Starbucks. Drumroll, please. 2am: Woke up for the tenth time in three hours. Having a hard time sleeping. Did Santa come? Did he get my list? Wait. It's not Christmas. And I didn't make a list. No. It's my last day of work. That's all. Nine years. No real plans for the future. Excited. Nervous. Breathing very shallow. Adrenaline pumping, even though it's the middle of the night. Oh boy. 3:20am: Alarm sounds. Try to sit in meditation, and succeed for all of 30 seconds. During those 30 seconds, I breathe. Feels good. Breathing is good. Must remember to do this today. 3:45am: Bike to work for the last time. It's so damn early. How the @#! did I do this for so long? Who cares. It's almost over. Keep riding. 5:00am: Doors open. T-minus 7 hours and counting. 6:45-9:00am: The long line starts. Customers getting their Friday morning fix. I feel myself beaming. Holy crap am ...

In case you live under a rock (which sometimes doesn't seem such a bad place to call home), you have probably by now heard the news. President Obama came out in support of same-sex marriage, no pun intended of course. But rather than debate the timing, motives, or legitimacy of such an endorsement, I found myself recalling days of yore. More specifically, I thought about what it felt like growing up in the closet. I have often wanted to write about this subject. To be sure, I have alot to say, and will likely have more to say than whatever comes out in this blog post. So be it.  Tonight, I am remembering myself at 12 years old, praying to God every night that I would be more interested in the opposite sex. Trying to pray the gay away I suppose. Hoping to be normal, to be accepted, to not go to "hell". This is not an exaggeration. It was lodged into my nightly prayers, right there between praying for straight A's on my report card and praying for a new fa...

I'm so excited. And I just can't hide it. I'm about to lose control, and yes....I think I like it. What, pray tell, has me quoting that ancient Pointer Sisters ditty and doing my little 80's dance these days? Change , that's what, or at least the prospect of change. Or maybe the decision to make a change, or simply watching the unfolding of change. Either way, ch-ch-ch-changes have me smiling. Some would (accurately) say I am beaming. I hear it most every day at work now. "Paul, why are you so happy?" "Paul, why are you in such a good mood?" "Paul, stop smiling so much!" (What can I say? There are a few haters out there.) The reality is nothing has changed yet.  But somehow, everything has changed. The other day someone asked me if it was a hard decision to leave Starbucks after nearly nine years. My knee-jerk reaction was to let out a guffaw so loud and harsh it even startled me a little, followed by a resounding ...