Nice To See StevieB: Christmas Tree

By StevieB

To begin our celebration of Christmas, the roommate and I decided to head to the mountains in order to get our own live Christmas tree. We had decided that we would go massively overboard for Christmas this year, so this was the first step. This choice stemmed from me having just ending a nine year relationship with Mr. Scrooge himself, and the roommate, whom had roommates for years, never had his own celebration the way he wanted it to be done. First step? Go murder an innocent tree and drag it back to the house. I declared this trip into the woods triumphantly to the boy I’m dating, (still known as TMBBE, or “The most Beautiful boy ever” for the lack of a better nickname) as a normal, healthy super-Christmasy thing that normal people do. This is when he calmly informed me that he never had a Christmas tree before. Like ever…ever.

My mouth dropped open. I stammered. “Like growing up you never had a tree?” He flatly informed me that no, his family had never. The next question that came out of my mouth will forever be noted as the stupidest thing I have, or ever will say. Please note the stupidity level… I said…. “But… where did you put your Christmas presents?” Oh. My. God. There is not a more ignorant thing I possibly could of said at that point. And I said it. I was an ignorant baboon asking someone raised Hindu where they kept their Christmas presents if they didn’t have a tree. The Most Beautiful Boy Ever was polite in response to my stupidity.

What I learned is that if you take a grown man, who was raised Hindu, to a Christmas tree lot, and ask him to pick out any tree he wanted, you're going to see a lot of Christmas repression un-cork. It was non-gentile to Santa elf in 3.5 seconds. I have never had so much fun picking out a tree.

I had spent nine years with someone who saw Christmas as a hassle. A chore that involved assembling the same artificial tree over and over. Then, suddenly I was standing in a muddy field watching someone search for the perfect tree. I watched the grin on his face grow. A grin that comes from the magical act of family going to the tree lot and taking home for the perfect Christmas. I was cold, I was muddy. I was never so happy. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: The Annual Christmas Rant

By StevieB

WHAT THE F*#K DO PENGUINS HAVE TO DO WITH CHRISTMAS!?!?

Have you seen the inflatable, glowing Christmas crap that everyone displays on their front lawns? Big billowing snowmen, elves, and insidiously happy penguins. Seriously, What the heck to penguins have to do with Christmas?

At night it’s quite a cute little scene. A winter wonderland all blown up and bopping around to the forced air whooshing up their butts. During the day it’s another story, driving through any upscale neighborhood it's a reenactment of Jim Jones goes to Christmas town. Dead, flat elves and snow people scatter the lawns like a mass suicide cult hit the North Pole. A massacre of merriment. One half-inflated penguin dragging its self off the lawn coughing out,  I only live in Antarctica and parts of South America why am I even here?

Aaaaaaaaaghh!

 
This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Train

By StevieB
 
I always thought living in proximity to a train track sounded romantic. I once had a house out in the country. At night, when the wind was just right, I could hear the far away call on the train whistle. Its lonesome call in the middle of the night evoked a call to iindividualisticwandering on a Jack Kerouac scale of fiction. No matter how stressful my life was, I could sit in my bed late at night and escape to a dream like world as the drifting call of a train whistle mixed with the late-night breeze. Blowing the sheers. Calming my busy brain. 

When the roommate and I were looking for new place to rent, I was excited to see an opening in a building within walking distance to a train stop. Just two blocks down, and we could be on a train platform that would whisk us to either Denver’s city center, or Denver’s Airport. I was also secretly excited that my train, the one from my late night visits would be back. 

The first night in the new place I drifted off to sleep with the window open.
HHHHOOOOONNNNKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!

I startled awake! The frickin’ train sounded as if it were running through the driveway. Why would moving next to the stupid train tracks be a smart move? All night a train horn blared every fifteen minutes. All night every night. Since this Jack Kerouac nightmare started in June, I have now become accustom to the late night train whistle. I drift off to my dream like world as train cars full of passengers make their way to and from the airport. Horns ablazing.
 
This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Nine Years of StevieB

By StevieB

(This month) marks the ninth anniversary for the Nice To See StevieB blog. This means you’ve been subjected to nine years of my teenage girl angst. I’m a large bear with a raging teenage girl trapped inside. A teenage drama queen that needed to write in her online diary. Nine years of documenting the ups and downs of your average gay bear. Although I deny that cliche title. As I’m truly an otter trapped in a bear’s body.

But, damn! Nine years. I first began blogging via the electronic means, recently invented, of MySpace. Seriously. I quickly noticed other bloggers using blogger.com and hopped on the bandwagon. I sat at my Apple G4 Power Mac on November 11, 2007, and began to online diary.

So here we are; nine years of me, rambling on. And on. Let’s see what happens next. 


This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: It Is Time To Fight

By StevieB

Don’t you remember? It has been sixteen years. So I understand if you don’t. In a way, we as a people have had it good. Damn good. Yes, there has been struggle, no denying that. Yet, Barack and Beautiful Michelle have helped us created more equality, and kindness in the world. Now it has all changed.

But, think back to the year 2000. Sixteen years ago when the popular vote went to an environmentaly focused inclusive candidate, but the White House went to Bush. A wave of sorrow swept the land and evangelical hate filled specialty groups moved in to influence the President and American doctrine. I distinctly remember the same wave of defeat that this week has brought to us. Trump, with a potato sack full of segregationist and right-wing hate groups ready to push back common sense and equality. Trump’s winning is just like when Bush came to power. But, now the self-centered and self-interested groups that are, right now, ready to take the wheel and push back the country to a segregation and white-Christian past, are more powerful.

The one thing that I remember clearly about sixteen years ago was that after Bush set his Neo-conservative agenda, we also began to mobilize. Now is the time. As the advocates of hate began to tool up and weaponize, gaining power and influence; We too must advance. It is a battle of faith. Of words. Of ideas. We have proven our skill in the 2000’s fighting against the far right wing. We have a proven track record and equality is on our side. Having Obama in the White house, we proved that fairness and racial equality raises us as a people. We have this to prove our justification.

Can you feel it? The call to fight. A fight not with fists, but words. “If you join us, you are welcome to stay and we will all work together to ensure our survival. I understand if you feel you can’t. But as for us, we are going to fight. We will begin training immediately…” Jennifer Outwater. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: When They Go Low

By StevieB
 
I'm sure you don't need to read my take on the 2016 election cycle. Americans are overwhelmed with adds, speeches, and propaganda. I for one; have isolated myself from the daily tsunami of information. What we cannot isolate ourselves from, it seems, this year, is the vile, defeating, and degrading hatred that has attached to this year's elections. All civil discourse has been distroyed.

To quote Michelle Obama, "When they go low, we go high." And, as most mature adults find out, seems to work. Most of the time. But, the lowbrow slander and lies, seem neverending.

No one will ever be moved to your way of thinking by posting negative slander on your Facebook page. So, why do it? Spreading negativity in the world must be a symptom of self-hate. So you hate Hilllary Clinton... I hate your hairstyle. How does that detente improve anything? Just move forward feeling what you feel. But, know that others, like me, feel differently. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Checking Monsters

By StevieB

I got home super late last night. One of those nights where you dump your belongings and drag yourself up the stairs. I dumped my countless number of bags inside the door and stripped naked as I ascended the stairs. My only goal was to be horizontal within my 800 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. Nothing was going to stop me. One thing did.

I stopped and checked my closet for monsters.

In my sleep deprived state, it hit me. I just checked my closet. I began to think; do I do this a lot? Yes, without even thinking of it. Every night I'm alone I open my closet door and flip on the light to ensure that there isn't anything evil lurking behind the Pumas. Hiding behind the flannel shirts. I'm a fully fledged adult, and yet I check for monsters in my room.

I'm sure this habit began when I was eight. My brother hid in my closet one evening to jump out and scare me. To this day it is my foundation in my belief that brothers are just simply assholes. Ever since that night I have checked my closet. This habit has ingrained itself into just who I am for my entire life, so much so that I don't even remember or acknowledge doing it.

In the movie 'The Dark Knight' The Joker says, “We stopped checking for monsters under our beds when we realized they were inside us." So maybe, that fact that I'm a full ground man and still checking behind the closet door every night, symbolizes that I don't have a monster inside of me. That evil is still an abstract. To be pushed away with one small ritual.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: My Part

By StevieB

One of my earlier memories was getting my haircut. It was in a strip mall in our small hometown. My Father took my older brother and me to get a buzzcut. I remember the stacks of coloring books and having my very first comic book adventure. Gazing at nineteen seventies Superman taking flight upon the page. This was when my love for comic books was born. I remember the feel of sitting in the huge barber chair; a booster seat to bring me up to the barber’s level. The barber seemed younger than my Dad, but still ancient. In my tiny brain. The image of my Dad wondering out the door, stating he’d be back to pick is up. I had a scared feeling, wanting to jump from the chair as the buzzing steel clippers came close to my ear. Being comforted by the barber that he wouldn’t hurt me. Softly whispering in my ear that I was safe. His hand moving under the cape to find its way into my jeans. Feeling warm and special because the barber clipping away on my brother in the next chair was not being even acknowledged. I exchanged warm smiles with the barber-man as he cut my hair. One handed. 

This is when it happened, I believe. He cut a side part into my hair. On the left side of my head. I have worn a part on the left side ever since that day. Mostly, this is because I have a massive amount of callicks (or cowlicks) on the back of my head. My hair resembles the back end of a guinea pig most days. Always using a massive amount to product to keep my swirling and unruly hair in its place. 

I recently had to find a new barber, as Nick the Super Barber moved to new town to start a Bed and Breakfast. I gave in and went to the hipster barbershop that my roommate uses. It is SUPER hipstery. I have a happy connection with getting my hair cut. Obviously, from my past of Superman and having my dick awakened for the first time. I went in for my first appointment half-hoping there would be comic books. There was not. I met the barber and began to explain my swirl and callicks on the back of my head. He stopped. “It’s because you have your hair parted on the wrong side.” He explained. “Your swirl and callick goes from right to left, opposite of how you’re laying your hair.” He combed my hair over from right to left and all my stand uppity hair laid flat….. Holy hell. That guy…. When I was just a kid… gave me thirty years of bad hair days??? Guess you are never too old to move your part from the left. I’m all right now. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Panda Express

By StevieB

I spent the entire day yesterday writing my term paper. I have entitled it my Mos and po-po paper. Not realizing that I had wasted an entire day sitting at the dinning room table with nothing but the dog staring up at me, around seven p.m. my stomach decided it was time for me to stop clicking away on the keyboard and throw some food in it.

Without considering the social norms of good grooming, I grabbed the Shar-pei and headed out onto the streets for nourishment. I have a level of guilt for patronizing the new Panda Express fast food chain that has opened up recently. I have always dined at the locally owned and operated Chinese take-away, but after a day of writing in my sweat pants, I feared that Mr. Wok would assume that the zombie apocalypse had begun, and this particular zombie had a taste for Asian brains, and I would be shot in the head. One should not fear being mistaken for a zombie and shot just because one desires chinese food, but one should also take a shower and remove ten hour old Pop-Tart crumbs from one’s beard before heading out into public. So I went to Panda Express. They don’t judge.

As I did my zombie shuffle up to the “Order Here” sign, the guy behind the glass sneeze guard smiled and said “hey, we chatted on Scruff!” peering into his dreamy blue eyes and swimmers build wrapped in a fast food uniform, I recognized him as well. My stomach and other bits growled. I thought, it’s Mr. “watts up” and “your hot.” Pondering his very bad grammar, I quickly thought, who am I to judge the proper use of you’re verses your? This hot twenty-two year old wants to give me his egg rolls. Under the panda embroidered polo shirt is a six-pack that thinks I am hot. I smiled my best “How YOU Doin?” smile and ran my hand over my right pectoris muscle covered by my coffee stained tee shirt.

I then grabbed my to-go bag and retreated out of the restaurant like a defeated Mongol warrior, yet giggling like a Japanese schoolgirl. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Job

By StevieB

Have I mentioned that I have a new job? In late July I pretty much hit a wall in my job. The busy restaurant management company drove me over the edge and, as I felt my mid-life crisis was starting early, it was time for me to run away. I had the luxury to stepping away being finically secure enough to take time to explore. This led be to talking most of August off. Sleeping in late, long workouts at the gym, hiking up in the mountains every day, the whole gainfully unemployed game. It was strange; having all this free time to just relax and rethink my career choices. I have been a Human Resources Manager most of my adult career, or for what seems like an eternity. During my down time, mostly hiking about Boulder, Colorado, I thought about my next career, what I really wanted. And, even with the bad taste left in my mouth of the last HR job, in mid-August I was recruited for another Human Resources gig. Yet the feel of the role was completely different.

During the initial phone interview I really bonded to what would be my future boss. It was also just the change I needed, a corporate position with short and long term care facilities. Teams of educated doctors and nurses in the role of caring for people in need. A far universe away from attempting to maintain dignity around Bartenders and ego-driven Chefs. Goodbye high end dining, hello medical field.


So far it’s like being on vacation every day. The work is very hard, don’t get me wrong, but I went from Bar Managers dropping bags of cocaine in the kitchen, to verifying medical degrees. It’s early days, but I feel like I have a purpose again. So, maybe the mid-life crisis can be averted for a couple more years.

Nice to See StevieB: Train

By StevieB
 
I always thought living in proximity to a train track sounded romantic. I once had a house out in the country. At night, when the wind was just right, I could hear the far away call on the train whistle. Its lonesome call in the middle of the night evoked a call to iindividualisticwandering on a Jack Kerouac scale of fiction. No matter how stressful my life was, I could sit in my bed late at night and escape to a dream like world as the drifting call of a train whistle mixed with the late-night breeze. Blowing the sheers. Calming my busy brain. 

When the roommate and I were looking for new place to rent, I was excited to see an opening in a building within walking distance to a train stop. Just two blocks down, and we could be on a train platform that would whisk us to either Denver’s city center, or Denver’s Airport. I was also secretly excited that my train, the one from my late night visits would be back. 

The first night in the new place I drifted off to sleep with the window open.
HHHHOOOOONNNNKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!

I startled awake! The frickin’ train sounded as if it were running through the driveway. Why would moving next to the stupid train tracks be a smart move? All night a train horn blared every fifteen minutes. All night every night. Since this Jack Kerouac nightmare started in June, I have now become accustom to the late night train whistle. I drift off to my dream like world as train cars full of passengers make their way to and from the airport. Horns ablazing.

Nice To See StevieB: Maintaining the Mean

By StevieB

I am not a fan of clutter. This may be part of my homosexual training in “clean surfaces.” Part of the homosexual agenda that pushes a simple and clean esthetic, and to force straights to no longer keep their toasters out on the counter, or large bowls of decorator soaps on the back of toilets. Pushing and forcing our agenda on America. An agenda of tasteful design, simplicity in form and function. When clean design solves a functional problem as simply and elegantly as possible, the resulting form will be carried to success by the gays.

That being said, I had a personal intervention last night….

Yes, I am working fifty hours a week on top of going to school. I still should be able to keep my desk clean. Yet at the bottom of the pile is the box my Mac came in… over a year and half ago. And that’s the issue. When I purchase fun toys, I don’t want to part with the box. Like unwrapping and unboxing is such a high, I don’t want to just toss out the package. If it didn’t just smack of effort and crazy, I’d be one of those “unboxers” on Youtube. Those people that video the unboxing of any new electronics, and post it to YouTube. If I start, I welcome any smacks to the head.

So, I just keep the bags and/or boxes to hold onto the thrill of opening the new item. Well, it may also be warranty and return purposes. That doesn’t mean I must leave them on my desk so I may contemplate when I should be writing a paper on Aristotle’s philosophy on happiness in human nature (no irony there).

Yet it does bring the reason why I still have the bag for my Coach wallet. “Happiness depends on ourselves.” Aristotle enshrines happiness as a central purpose of human life and a goal in itself. A new Coach wallet, although completely shallow in its happiness, makes me happy. Aristotle argues that virtue is achieved by maintaining the Mean, which is the balance between two excesses. I don’t depend wholly on wallets Swatches for happiness, they’re tiny treats for working fifty hours a week and going to school. I maintain the Mean.

Now if only I could get the bags and boxes off my desk to maintain my clean desk… that’s another issue. I am not a fan of clutter. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Locked into New Possibilities

By StevieB

I have to admit I had not been to the gym in a while. There was a couple days missed along with checking out the gym in the Highlands. The Highland area of Denver, that is. The Highland location 24Hour Fitness is quickly becoming my favorite gym in Denver. This is due to the inordinate amount of smoking hot guys at all times. You can't swing a Nasty Pig jock without hitting a hot bro. And, I've tried.

I had not been to the gym in several days, it was midnight, I was very tired. As I reached into my gym bag for my lock, the same way for thirteen years, my hand came up empty handed. My lock wasn't in my gym bag. Gone. Forever. I started to think back to when I bought that lock. It was upon joining 24Hour Fitness in Dallas, 2001. After the all gay, glitter gym closed down without warning, I reluctantly joined the 24Hour on Mckinney Avenue. I felt so common, having to purchase a lock, instead of the oak lined built-in-lock lockers at the fancy gay gym. But, I did. Out were the free heated towels; in were working out with... you know.... girls.

All of this history ran through my head, as things do when you're getting older, and you're standing alone in your Under Armour in public after midnight. One begins to reminisce about the old days, and things you once owned. Now gone forever. I raised my head; realizing that change is good. Change must happen in one's life. A new lock means new things coming into my world. I welcome new things. New people. New adventures. New..... oh.... that locker across the way has a lock on it that's very distinctive. Like mine..... could it have been left locked on an empty locker for all this time? I walked over, tried the well known combination, and snap. It opened. After days of being locked there, no one had bothered it.

Some times, life makes you wake up to new possibilities in tiny ways. Some times, I'm
forgetful.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Big Wheel

By StevieB

When I was five or six I wrote a letter to Santa declaring my love for him.

No, not that I would love it if he brought me toys. That I was desperately in love with him. Since he was the source of all things wonderful in my world I screamed like a Justin Bieber fan on Christmas morning when rushing out to the tree I found the love letter back from my idol.

“Santa” had received my letter and upon delivery of the big-wheel, wrote on the top of the box that he too was fond of me. My fay heart was reeling. It was akin to Zak Spears sending me a letter on scented stationary declaring that he wouldn’t know peace until I was his. But with a big-wheel.

Jebus I was a strange and effeminate little boy. But this may explain why I have a fondness of guys with beards.

When I was just out of high school I found another man that rocked my world in such a complete way as my big-wheel boyfriend. I declared my love for an amateur body builder named JT. Every glance was like Christmas morning. Every time he looked my way it was un-wrapping my big-wheel. But, like my favorite toy from my childhood the time with the body builder didn’t last long. Both were cheap plastic and within months broke. Leaving me broke along with the plastic.

Steve grows up into a well adjusted, contented guy. Who happens to wander around Facebook and stumbles upon his first love. No, Not Santa. The former amateur body builder.

It’s funny how what you yearn for, desire to have forever and ever is just temporary and you can look back grateful that what you wanted never came to be. If I could Say something to my 15 year old self it would be to live by the mantra: All things are in fact temporary.

I’m learning lately that happiness is not a state where you get rid or give up on your desires. Rather, you change your relationship with them. The ability to stay present and to remain open to emotions without getting "hooked" is something I’m learning and increasingly is carried over into my daily life.

All things are impermanent ...not quite the same thing as temporary, but similar. There is nothing wrong with thinking about the past or present or future ... but the goal is to not be hooked by thoughts, as well as to not be hooked by emotions.

Nice To See StevieB: Summer Nights

By StevieB

This is my favorite photo of myself. It was taken by my most amazing (and available) roommate, Mike. It was late summer and Mike and I had just illegally launched some Chinese lanterns in the middle of Cheesman Park. It was truly an amazing night. We laughed and joked as we entered the park, close to the parks closing time. But, our tone became more and more reserved as we watched the glowing lanterns drift higher and higher into he night sky. We stood alone in the middle of the darkened park. Witnessing the glowing light of lanterns fade away.

We sat in the grass and watching the full moon (pictured in the photo) slowly come out to join us. In this shot you can see me in my natural habitat. Texting away.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Gym, or Jack N' The Box

By StevieB

"You move in the direction you think."

For me, walking out to the gym at 1a.m. covered in sweat with my headphones blaring, is the most triumphant and empowering part of my life. It's that feeling, one of being Alexander the Great standing over King Darius, that I crave. Yet, why do I forget that feeling when I want to skip the gym and head straight for the bar?

It is funny how I must re-learn this lesson, over and over. How we as humans sabotage our own happiness. I find that there is nothing better in my world than completing a great workout and to be filled with accomplishment. And yet, it is tough to shut-off the little part of our brains that does not want me to have this feeling of happiness. As I feel it is not deserved. Is this because we attach value to the negative beliefs and thoughts we have on deserving rewards? These nagging doubts on whether we really deserve what we're striving for; apprehension that we don't deserve success. It is that fear of our achievement that isolates us.

I guess I need to pay better attention. Tune into my thoughts. Listen to find out if they are trying to sabotage my goals. Free myself from this cycle negatively impacting the things that make me happy. Spend more energy smashing these anti-sucess beliefs with a frickin' dumbbell.



This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Growing Up Beige

By StevieB

Growing up as a good Mormon boy I had a lot of idiosyncrasies. Being the youngest of seven kids probably compounded this. Let’s just say it was like Equus but with Jell-O after dinner on Saturdays.

Part of living in a big house on a big ranch in the middle of nowhere is when a sibling got married and moved out everyone got to move up to a better bedroom. After several basement bedrooms that have scared me for life, when the last sister got taken away for marriage, I got to move upstairs. A room with a window, no longer to be a subterranean dweller. Which to this day has made me hate basements.

Being the youngest also means I got the painted furniture and painted walls from countless sisters wanted bright happy colors. The room I was to inherit had been pink, blue, yellow, and puke green, along with all the furniture. Now, after kicking six other kids out of the house the Mother didn’t care at this point what the hell I did, so she sent me into the K marts with fifty bucks and told me she would wait in the Kmart Kafe, sucking down ham sandwiches.

Having the urge and twisted desire to be grown up like Steven Carrington I went about decorating my room. Beige walls, beige sheets and pillows, brown paint on the furniture and I ripped down the flowery curtains and installed beige mini blinds. It looked like the inside of a cardboard box. The only thing my Mom said was “It looks like the God damn underside of a God damn mushroom” and she was right. But my yearning to be normal made me want to be bland. Unlike the flamboyant little boy with an Under Gear magazine hidden inside the beige sheets. 

The funny thing is, although I still use the design esthetic the Steven Carrington’s “bachelor pad” It’s taught me that even when you cover up things with beige paint you’re still the flamboyant boy underneath.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Checking Monsters

By StevieB

I got home super late last night. One of those nights where you dump your belongings and drag yourself up the stairs. I dumped my countless number of bags inside the door and stripped naked as I ascended the stairs. My only goal was to be horizontal within my 800 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. Nothing was going to stop me. One thing did.

I stopped and checked my closet for monsters.

Monster in The Closet
by MoMoCookie

In my sleep deprived state, it hit me. I just checked my closet. I began to think; do I do this a lot? Yes, without even thinking of it. Every night I'm alone I open my closet door and flip on the light to ensure that there isn't anything evil lurking behind the Pumas. Hiding behind the flannel shirts. I'm a fully fledged adult, and yet I check for monsters in my room.


I'm sure this habit began when I was eight. My brother hid in my closet one evening to jump out and scare me. To this day it is my foundation in my belief that brothers are just simply assholes. Ever since that night I have checked my closet. This habit has ingrained itself into just who I am for my entire life, so much so that I don't even remember or acknowledge doing it.


In the movie 'The Dark Knight' The Joker says, “We stopped checking for monsters under our beds when we realized they were inside us." So maybe, that fact that I'm a full ground man and still checking behind the closet door every night, symbolizes that I don't have a monster inside of me. That evil is still an abstract. To be pushed away with one small ritual. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Summer

By StevieB

Can you believe that it is almost the end of July? What happened to the future plans of summer? I started to ponder this the other day as I daydreamed; looking upon clouds in the middle of Cheesman Park. Reclining on a blanket with my face looking upon the clouds. The clouds and I shared a lazy agenda, to waste an afternoon. Their plan was to slowly creep across the huge blue sky. My plan was to watch their paced path.
It is funny how, upon the first breath of Spring, the plans for “everything you want to do this summer” become laid. The long path of warm weather. A chance to enjoy. The scheme of being able to look back in September and recite to the class, “How I Spent my Summer.” 

Here we sit at the end of July. How has your plans come along so far? This is fair warning to the end of fair warming. So, maybe the roadtrip to Mount Rushmore isn’t going to materialize for this summer. But, a road trip somewhere will. Get out there! There isn’t much time.

There isn't time, there isn't time
To do the things I want to do,
With all the mountain-tops to climb,
And all the woods to wander through,
And all the seas to sail upon,
And everywhere there is to go,
And all the people, everyone
Who lives upon the earth , to know.
To know a few, and do a few,
And then sit down and make a rhyme
About the rest I want to do.
-Eleanor Farjeon

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Four-Eyes

By StevieB
 
After what seemed an insane amount of shopping, I have finally bought new glasses. This is my first pair of bi-focal lenses. And, it's the problem I'm having. I spend most of my day unable to see anything. I am constantly looking through the top part of my lens, designed for distance vision, to read and text. Then using the bottom section to drive. The optometrist did warn me, but really. At this point I would see better without glasses at all.

I will; however, keeping trying. But, if you see me without my glasses upon my face, you know not to inquire to their whereabouts. If you see me with my glasses on, I won't see you anyway. So I'll probably step on your foot. I'll apologize now.