I have returned...

Yes, I have returned to my poor neglected blog. The only reason being that I need to rant about a certain issue.

I have wanted to be a father for as long as I can remember. And I do not know how or why I started looking, but I wanted to see what reasons certain individuals gave in hopes of denying gay couples the ability to adopt. I want my children to be my biological ones. Anyways, I, being the interested party, decided to hear both sides of the argument. (Needless to say the Homosexuality therapy institute had some words. I have a few for them too) BUT that is not for you to hear. I found a very nice impartial website after digging around.

I am going to summarize this for you. The first point states that gay people are incapable of supporting someones gender. The usual we'll brainwash our kids to be gay. They go on to say that gay people have an inclination towards suicide, and psychiatric problems. (I don't want to get too angry, but here is the website with the rest of the points that they make on it http://borngay.procon.org/view.resource.php?resourceID=000005 )

I find people like this infuriating. The only thing that should matter is that you are going to love your child, and provide for them! Love.

Brush off the cobwebs...

I realize that I have UNFORGIVEABLY neglected my blog. BUT no need to fear my dedicated 2 followers, and that one whose long distance comments always make me smile, I shall return within the next week!

Those longings....

So I awake...or stay awake rather. My sleep schedule has been flailing trying to find something to grab hold of, to no avail. After having a dental meltdown (spare details but it involves a frantic call to my mother whilst in the Jackson El stop, an emergency dental appointment, and a very scary tool called the "CAV-A-TRON!"). After working this summer (learning the value of a dollar(I am bitter now too) and realizing that without my mothers employer provided health insurance credit card I would be a wanted man, I have begun to long for the time when you could ask for 5 dollars to get lunch and that would get you lunch, dessert, and pop. The time when you were taken care of. When you didn't have to worry about bills? And after a night of late night blog posts from someone very close to my heart, they have sparked another desire in me. The desire for "THAT" time. The time when woman wanted to look like Jackie Kennedy. When they actually cared what they wore when they went into public. But women like that are a dying breed. Now girls go to class wearing a pair of Uggs, sweatpants, and a northface jacket, and feel that is acceptable attire for almost any occasion. And I find myself, for lack of a better word, disgusted. I digress though. So this longing has been awakened within. I want to go back to the time when Michigan Avenue represented something. When it stood for class, and sophistication, not your leased luxury SUV, your multi-million dollar MacMansion in the burbs, or (dare I say it) your brownstone in Lincoln Park. (I realize that in my most recent post I confessed to wanting this life, but one must understand there are those that possess class (hoping myself) and then there are those that do not. Who shop on Michigan Avenue just to say "Oh yes! I bought that at Burberry on Michigan.") One final thought, because I feel a rant a-comin'! I long for the single family homes of Chicago. They too are a dying breed. Where those children's foot prints on the wood floor tell volumes about the history of that home. But now the only thing on the floor is beer from last nights party. And that once beautiful home has been butchered into 6 identical apartments and possibly a depressing garden unit. What happened to history? What happened to decency? And what happened to class?

Back home...at least that's what I call it.

At last, I have returned to the blogosphere to "enlighten" my 2 followers, and several other people who might blog browse now and then. I have returned to the city of steel, lights, and the city that enchants and haunts. While I was home during the summer, I would look forward to sleep. Every time that I lay in my bed, Chicago would reach me 800 miles away, and remind me of why I return to this place of ungodly cold, of homeless men invading my personal space. It is because this city that I recognize as my true home has truly stolen my heart. Chicago is one of the few women that I will ever love.

I will not bore my reader(s) about the tedium of Dallas. However, I will say that this tedium was punctuated with friendships that I will treasure for the rest of my life.

But now that school has started I love knowing where I am going. Physically. Mentally, I haven't the foggiest. I woke up five minutes late for class, and whilst putting on a pair of heinous shorts I had flashes of me working at Dominic's until the day I die. And no one wants that.

With that thought I have come to a realization. Also with the help of some late night Lady Gaga therapy, that I want to become one of those men that works till they get married. I want to be like the yuppie woman who work at their jobs until they find their mister right. They buy their MacMansion (mine will be a brownstone here in Lincoln Park or similar) and have my children. With that thought comes the thought that I am a terrible person, but at the same time, I am admitting it, while others just deny it. I have my life goals set and I aim for those goals. On that note, I bid you all good day, morning, or night. And thanks for reading!

Love, Rev RJH

P.S. Chicago, one of your children has come home. And is never leaving your embrace again.

Whoa...Its been a while

Yes, I have neglected this blog for a while. But don't worry. My haitus will soon be over. I shall resume posting once I am back with my beautiful girl. Chicago.

Light on the horizon aka June 12th

The cycle begins again!

Hello all!  I haven't written in a while, and there is much to talk about.  Not to give it all away, but this list will help keep me on track, because if you have read any of my past posts you will know that I digress that it's no ones business.

1.  I am 19

2.  I am in the final stages of talking to someone

3.  Spring Break

4.  Class

5.  The usual college kid angst

First off, on March 18th, I officially turned 19!  I had planned on going to the Russian Tea Room, it has been a dream of mine since the last time I ate there.  And I my first three choices were unavailable, due to a variety of reasons.  But then I had the best time with someone that will remain nameless as he might read this.  And oh it was glorious, I had some of the best jasmine tea I have ever had.  And I cannot think of any better way of spending my birthday.

Following glorious Russian Tea I returned to LP, where I proceeded to sift through the 60 some notifications of wall posts on Facebook.  I then went back to State and Randolph, and the gifting began.  And while some of you might think that these are not "gifts."  The love put into these gifts is what makes them gifts.  An Iced Custom Berry Blast, a big smile, and a happy birthday was the extent of my gifting.  And I have officially decided that this was one of the best birthday's I have ever had.  Shortly after, and I will not focus on this point as parental issues are not meant for the blog-o-sphere, I did not get a happy birthday from my mother.  I am at peace with it, it's happened before...

I have decided to skip over the final stages of talking to someone point.  Only because as was mentioned before, he might read this, and lets not scare him of just yet.

As I try and collect my thoughts about this next point, all I can do is emit a contented sigh.  Spring Break was wonderous, Dallas has remained the same, however more and more bits of my childhood neighborhood are being replaced by monstrous McMansions.  And I can't help but wonder, what is it about cities that compels them to be in a continuous state of change.  After reading taking a class about Chicago's progression from a mass of smoldering rubble to the concrete and steel jungle that we see today, I realize that cities seem to hate themselves, they disregard the past and are only interested in the bigger and better.  I cannot help but pray that cities will recognize their past, and preserve it.  MAJOR DIGRESSION!  The weather was indescriably amazing.  I flew down from Chicago wearing a track jacket, and once I arrived my Texan gene kicked in, I felt like emitting a "YE HAW!"  at how great the weather was.  But me being the always fashionable Bob Hogge couldn't bring myself to do it.  Needless to say the weather was great.  And upon returning to Chicago, I had hoped that Chicago's hormones had leveled out and the weather would slightly resemble spring.  Then Chicago slaps me in the face.  It gets freezing.  In fact 3 days after returning home, it snows!  Wonderful!  School starts tomorrow, and Chicago hates me!

Class has started.  I have decided that DePaul is seriosuly medicated, because the quarter system is ineffective.  I have to buy more books, endure extra stress from three sets of midterms and finals, and to top it all off every first day of the quarter is like elementary school all over again.  You don't know anyone, and you pray to God you don't drop your lunch tray in the cafeteria.  Luckily, I have gained more confidence, or perhaps it is that I will probably never meet my classmates again after the quarter ends, I go head first into conversation, looking for the smart person so that I can leech off of them.  Manipulation...I am a terrible person.

Finally, the usual college angst.  My roommate left for California, and my room all of the sudden no longer smelled like death.  It smelled well, pleasant.  I have received my housing application for next year as I was determined to walk as little as possible in the winter.  That was until....THE OMEN.  My room selection number, I kid you not is 666.  After discovering that several of my controlled substance's that I require to function in school had gone missing I decided to check my mail, and get even.  Apparently my roommate had also intended to live on campus next year.  To my extreme and utter disbelief, his number was 91.  After throwing this discovery in the trash I decided that off campus housing seemed more appropriate, so now I just need to go through the hassle of searching for an apartment.  I cannot help but do my T. Rex arms out of stress.  

There, you are caught up.  Sorry if this one was boring.  I shall attempt to be more poetic in the future.

Love Rex RJH!