“It is never too late to be what you might have been.” ~ George Eliot

This little-website-that-could is celebrating its 20th anniversary this winter, a rather impressive feat when you consider the average lifespan of a personal blog. Its length is not for any popularity or demand, but rather the singular self-focus of yours truly, and the way this has become a daily journal/diary which helps me sort out certain things in a very public fashion. Spilling such tea can be a messy business, but the messier things get, the more interesting they seem to be. 

“He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

This is my playground, where I get to trot out playthings like words and photographs and whatever fancy feather that happens to drift my way. Far more than that, once I started keeping posts and archiving them (rather than simply revamping and erasing a year’s worth of posts, which is what I did for the first ten years or so of this site) this became a way of looking back at the overarching themes and trends of my life – what was working and what continually held me back or caused problems. 

“One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon-instead of enjoying the roses blooming outside our windows today.” ~ Dale Carnegie

As my interests developed and changed, so too did the blog posts, and the way I wrote about myself and others. Focus shifted, gradually and gently over time, and while I still feel like the same person I was twenty years ago, in many ways I simply am not. That’s how it should be, and I’ve always been slightly suspicious of anyone who hasn’t exhibited the capacity to change or evolve over time. Adaptation is an essential component of survival. 

“People like this are beautiful storytellers, breaking rules you didn’t even know were there, just so you can see better and maybe be better. Life is so full of rules and so full of predictable routines that one can almost forget that art and life depend on spontaneity. Enter the eccentric.” ~ Andrew O’Hagan

Eccentricity is a term largely used in negative fashion, designed to denigrate behavior that is merely unconventional. We too often associate that which is different with that which is negative, perpetuating the idea of difference as something dangerous.  I don’t consider myself all that different from anyone else, but over the last twenty years I’ve heard many remarks to the contrary, and I’ve leaned into all that is contrary, if only to jolt myself into new ways of thinking.

Having a place to document and notate what my daily life is like, and heightening it for some aspect of entertainment and enjoyment (my own admittedly and selfishly above anyone else’s) has resulted in a space that forces me to face things I might otherwise tamp down or pretend away. Confronting such darker facets of a personality is not something most people enjoy or often employ, and for that I may be a little eccentric. To do so in such public fashion begs the question why, and part of it has been for accountability. Not everyone likes that either.

“That’s what makes a real eccentric: they really mean it, and they’re willing to suffer for it. Their social function is to explode our preconceptions about what beauty is and what good taste means. Eccentrics raise the bar on the impossible… The true eccentric gives us more mystery, more wonder about being human, a new side to beauty, while the faux-eccentric gives us less of everything.” ~ Andrew O’Hagan

As we embark on the 20th year of this website, I’m reminded to embrace my eccentricity, such as it may be, while owning up to my failings and flaws, and using them to better my future actions. I’ve made many mistakes over two decades, and while I usually find a way to learn from them, I also have my moments of refusing to learn. The process continues, the work endures, the journey begins again… 

“They didn’t always get the life they wanted, but they knew how to dream… And maybe that’s the true definition of an eccentric – someone who can’t be slain by what lesser people might say.” ~ Andrew O’Hagan

His recent hair-cut made the biggest hair news of the years, as Shawn Mendes just lopped off his signature wavy locks for a swaggering short-do, and, like most things, it becomes him. Here he is showing off the new look, with some shirtless sun shots to remind everyone of what they’ve always loved about him. 

Mendes has appeared here strikingly in posts that celebrated his underwear, his shower, his shirtlessness, and his… everything. 

What wonder is a cup of tea. Seems like such a simple thing – water tinted by dried leaves – and yet in that process is all the worth of the world. I often forget how the mundane acts of a morning make for the sustenance of an entire day. Please, join me, and sit for a spell. I’ll put on some music so we don’t even have to worry about conversation.

While a snowstorm swirls outside, let’s keep comfort on the conversation couch, enjoying the calm and quiet and simplicity of a couch. Pull up a blanket if you’d like some extra warmth – ’tis the damn season after all. Sip slowly, hold the warmth in your palm. Tea should be a sensual experience. 

It has literally been four years since I was phased by illness, thanks to that stretch of masks and social distance. I was happy to keep that going for as long as possible, but a nasty little stomach bug final caught up with me, and as I write this I’m propped up in bed, just seconds away from my next all-liquid bowel movement. 

The bathroom is my church now, the toilet a porcelain throne and altar all-in-one. Unsure of which end may be evacuating first, I do a little dance, make a little twirl, and if my friends could see me now…

At such times, bound to bed and bathroom, my mind wanders and tends to put out just as much crap as my body (such as in this blog post quaintly entitled ‘Holding Onto My Penis For Dear Life’). Hence this stream-of-semi-consciousness

Andy has been dispatched to pick up some popsicles and Pedialyte, and I hastily assembled a pie mold of jello and popped it into the fridge before I went fully down. The last time I downed some Pedialyte I was attempting to stave off a hangover (and it worked!) but I’d rather be here than there any given day. 

As for the blog schedule here, this bug came at a most inopportune time, as my first burst of promotional packages hyping up this website’s 20th anniversary are set to be delivered this week. Thus, the universe has spoken, and I have been told to slow down and listen, pause and reflect. That’s my usual tone for Lent, so everything is as it should be. 

Today marks two months of winter done, and one more to go. Before we jump into elation, however, I have to remind myself that this last month is always the toughest, even if there will be days when spring is definitely and defiantly in the air. We can get snow up until May in these parts – and some of those storms are the snowiest and most frustrating – so we will not be sending up a celebratory flare just yet. Keep it in your back pocket for another month. We can, however, recap the following week, and put that into the books. Another week of winter down… only a few to go. Hang in there.

Valentine’s Day opened with a bit of cheesy music, the way this Hallmark holiday should be greeted. 

The day of love closed out with an acoustic set, because love is love is love.

A mundane mid-afternoon in downtown Albany.

Looking back out of sheer exhaustion.

Roses not for Valentine’s Day.

Round one of a new Madonna bracket was inspired by the Super Bowl. 

Date night with Andy at the Scarlet Knife.

First perambulation of the year. 

Coaxing a mystery orchid back into bloom. 

Sticks of winter fire against a February sky. 

The miraculous cotton candy grape.

Dazzlers of the Day included Ricky Martin, Harper Watters, Salma Hayek, Marcus Law, and Jo Koy.

The stems of the Coral Bark Japanese Maple give the tree its name – a bright coral red that is a highlight of the winter garden, when the world is starved for color and vibrancy. Lit by the sunlight of late afternoon, which grows happily longer by the day, these stems look brilliant against a blue sky. 

In the spring, the chartreuse leaves of this tree complete the show with a stunning shade that complements its bright bark. Holding that thought while the winter limps onward is a test of mental fortitude, but rather than force the matter, I’m going to appreciate the stems bare against this February sky.