Thomas Saylor Tillery

Birthday Swag

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Fri, 07 Dec 2012 04:59:00 +0000

So I told everyone that what I wanted for my birthday was an iPad. My sister was kind enough to give me this:

And my friend Angie thought that I might like a nice iPad accessory:

Or, at least, the box that an iPad accessory might come in. With a scarf inside instead:

I did end up getting the iPad, though. Thanks to cash from my sister, lots of gift cards from friends and Swagbucks, and finally my saint of a husband who agreed to pay the difference for whatever amount I was short.

I also got a lot of stuff I didn't ask for, but I REALLY REALLY REALLY love! Like Starbucks gift cards and peacock trinkets from my friend Avon and my awesome coworkers:

And some extra surprises from my aforementioned husband that he purchased from my Amazon wish list...just because he loves me!

Konfor Digital Air Ultrasonic Humidifier

Epson WorkForce 845 Wireless All-in-One Color Inkjet Printer, Copier, Scanner, Fax, iOS/Tablet/Smartphone/AirPrint Compatible Printer

Philips Sonicare HX9332/05 DiamondClean Rechargeable Electric Toothbrush

I think this is the most lucrative birthday I've had yet. Do they just keep getting better as you get older?

Turning 26

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Fri, 07 Dec 2012 03:40:00 +0000

Every year around my birthday I spend a lot of time thinking about aging and purpose and accomplishments. I've been known to sit down, pour a glass of wine, and compose a long blog post (or two) about my own progress and personal growth up to that point.

About a week ago I woke up to find that suddenly I'd turned 26 years old. I'll admit, I had a few moments of sadness and uncertainty about nearing the end of my twenties. To be completely honest, the one thing I am most frightened of in the entire world is growing old. But these moments were fleeting, and I can honestly say that turning 26 was a lot easier than turning 25.

I think what I'm feeling most right now is anticipation. Big changes are coming soon in my life and for the first time I have a plan to get myself where I need to be. My goal is to get to that place while I'm still young enough to enjoy it. Many of my past blog posts have been about the things I haven't accomplished. It's true, I was given a shitty hand when it comes to my childhood. However, I can't use that as an excuse forever. In situations where I fall short, I am realizing now that it's up to me to make it happen, even if it's a little late in life.

Take my braces, for example. It isn't exactly tradition to fill your mouth with metal just before your 26th birthday. But I've been embarrassed of my smile for as long as I can remember and now that I finally have the means to do something about it, I have. Nearly everything in my life has happened at the wrong time, but it doesn't make it any less right for me.

I have one semester to go before finally completing as associate degree, and then it's on to the university for my undergrad after that. The fact that the end is finally in sight is unbelievable to me. For the last SEVEN YEARS I have had to explain to people how it came to be that I didn't go to the college I applied for (and was accepted into) after high school, but instead decided to work an endless stream of dead-end jobs while slowly accumulating credits at a glacial pace. If I could go back and make changes I would certainly do a lot of things differently. But the fact of the matter is that I'm here now, and I am finally going to take the time to get myself on track.

So, as far as birthdays go, I have to consider this a pretty great one. I'm not quite where I want to be, but I'm finally on the way. And I'm a lot closer than I've ever been before.

Brace Face, Metal Mouth, Tinsel Teeth... or, "how I'm ruining my twenties"

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Wed, 21 Nov 2012 22:38:00 +0000

Last week, at the age of 25, I got braces.

I've had them a week now. I cannot describe to you how awful they are. The above picture was taken in the parking lot of the orthodontist so I could show Chris how ridiculous I look, and I haven't smiled again since.

Those of you who went through the experience at age 13, it's kind of like that - only I have to talk on the phone for a living. The pain is constant, and for the first time in my life I actually want to keep my mouth shut for a change. Reshaping the formation of your entire mouth is more involved than I'd assumed.

My diet has been similar to when I had my wisdom teeth removed. Only this time, without the Vicodin. I can't even chew the tiny chunks in vegetable soup. Not only does it HURT to chew, it's currently impossible. My bite is extraordinarily steep in the front, so my bottom brackets keep my top teeth from closing the way they normally do, and therefore none of my molars can touch. I feel not unlike a beaver, left to wrangle food with only my front four teeth.

Photo Credit: wallpapers4desktop.net

And then there's my speech. The inside of my mouth is constantly switching between extreme variables of wet and dry, and I speak with a permanent lisp. In other words, brathes thuck.

All complaints aside, enhancing my smile is something I've always wanted to do. Sometimes in life we have to do things out of order. Like how I spent my high school years working to pay my car insurance but spent my early twenties avoiding responsibility and watching TV. You can't always control when things will work out, but I think it's important to grab an opportunity when the chance arises, even if it may be chronologically incorrect.

Now, will thomebody pleathe make me a fwuit thmoothie?

Opinions are like assholes, and assholes oppose marriage equality

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Wed, 25 Jul 2012 13:42:00 +0000

One of the many things I love about being an American is the idea that everyone is entitled to their own opinions about everything. Politics, religion, fiscal policy, et al. "It's a free country," we say. "I agree with this, but I disagree with that."

We all have our viewpoints, our biases, our hot button issues. Our opinions are shaped by many factors, including our upbringing, our influences, and our demographics.

Take me, for example:

I'm male.

I'm white.

I'm southern.

I'm gay.

I'm 25.

And while I make a great effort to be fair and logical, my life experiences have undoubtedly had an impact on the way I look at the world around me. I think that's true for all of us, and I think that's to be expected.

However, lately I've been disappointed by several people I know in regards to those opinions, and specifically their take on my rights as a human being. Being homosexual, I will admit that I am quick to pull "The Gay Card". It's easy for me to champion those social issues that hold the most incentive for me and, as a respective minority, those that make me feel the most personally affected. My disappointment, though, is rooted much deeper than a certificate of marriage or religious endorsement -

There are people in my life that actually believe I am worth less than they are simply because I am gay.

They show me this by voting against marriage equality, which in turn takes away my federal and other governmental protection. Protection that would otherwise be afforded to me and my future family had I been heterosexual instead. They show me this by requesting that everyone on their friends list stop posting important political updates so that they can get back to announcing what they ate for lunch or posting pictures of their feet. They show me this by saying things like "I don't think gays should be allowed to marry because the Bible says marriage is between a man and a woman. I'm not judging you…God is".

Doctrines aside, why shouldn't I be recognized by my government as a married citizen? Why shouldn't I be treated equally in the eyes of the law? I'm a tax-payer, a law-abider, and a hard-worker. I'm as patriotic as they come, and I live the values that our country was founded upon. "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

And while I can appreciate that our differences may lead you to have an opinion on whether or not my being gay is a choice, or whether or not my sexual orientation is a sin…I don't understand how that should give anyone the power to decide whether or not I deserve tax benefits, or health insurance discounts, or even the legal right to be by my partner's side if he were to lay dying in a hospital bed.

What's worse is that I am seeing fellow homosexuals deflecting from the issues at hand in order to be contrary, or perhaps hoping to gain the respect of their bigoted friends. I read posts advocating the support of organizations which deliberately fund political groups that oppose marriage equality because "I choose to eat those delicious sandwiches". Further, I read posts condemning those of us who do fight for marriage equality stating that the answer is to merely make more strategic financial decisions so as to continue receiving the approval of our conservative (read: wealthy) friends. No matter that we aren't provided with the basic human rights that we deserve, but GOD FORBID someone begin to see us as a stereotype! So instead they go against the grain, shrugging off the issues of today as if it's all a matter of personal opinion, refusing to identify with the basic needs of the LGBT community for fear of seeming typical. As if civil rights are subjective and discrimination is without harm.

Worth consideration, though, is that their voice stretches far beyond where they think it does, and continuing to perpetuate the idea that it is okay to treat someone like a second-class citizen simply because they are different is precisely the root of the hatred and violence that many of us are suffering from today. Not taking a stance on marriage equality means taking a stance against marriage equality, and the rights of countless people who deserve the fairness and opportunity this country prides itself on providing. Please remember that the next time you are standing in line at ChickFilA, filling out a voter's ballot, or just spending your day thinking of snarky remarks to insult your friends with on Facebook. Your actions make a difference, and your opinions should not infringe upon the rights of others.

Dooooown toooooown, everything's waiting for you

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Sat, 02 Jun 2012 13:53:00 +0000

When I first moved to Virginia with my now-husband two years ago, we didn't have much time to shop around for apartments. He had accepted a job offer that forced us to move very quickly. The entire process went something like Interview > Proposal > New Address > What the fuck did we just do?

We tried to do as much research as we could from North Carolina, but it's so hard to shop for a home long distance. Things that looked great and affordable online turned out to have graffiti on the walls in person or be located adjacent to a gold tooth shop (both of those actually happened). I was so overwhelmed and frustrated with the entire process that I pretty much closed my eyes, pointed, and said "Let's live here".

We got really lucky. We ended up in the West End of Richmond, which is known for low crime rates, great school districts, and rows and rows of new residential development that all looked the same: clean, manicured, and expensive. I really liked being part of picturesque suburbia for a while. That is, until I went to work for my neighborhood Wells Fargo.

The problem with suburbia is the people it attracts. The branch that I worked at was in my neighborhood and just down the street from our apartment, which means that I waited on my neighbors every day. These people could not be more of a stereotype if they tried! I saw a continuous string of two different types of people; The men were hasty, condescending business executives without a shred of common decency or respect...and the women were entitled, uninterested soccer moms who were ignorant to everything besides their monthly highlights or morning Starbucks. Factor in spoiled, screaming children and the occasional homophobic comment, and you can understand why I had to leave. Both the neighborhood and my job as a bank teller.

Chris and I decided to move downtown. We're not raising a family, we're not planning our retirement, and we don't belong in a classist society seasoned with BMW's, briefcases, and tennis skirts.

I love our new neighborhood. I especially love that on my morning walks with Riley I see all different types of people, from businessmen to bums, from hobos to hipsters, from friendly faces to scowling drunks preaching hell fire and brimstone on the corner of my block. All ages, all races, all backgrounds. I think this is how life was meant to be lived. And although we still have a long, far way to go, this move has made me even surer that I belong in New York City.

We're settling into the apartment nicely so far.

a boy in a coffee shop

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 23:32:00 +0000

With today being my last full day vacationing in Florida, and Chris being stuck working an event all day, I wanted to make the best of it and do something I would remember. My friend Debbie once told me that on her days off work she likes to pretend that she is a housewife and that her mundane errands are the most important and challenging on her list of priorities. I find this thought process fascinating; that you can be anyone you want to be, if you just pretend.

In a new place, especially, the choices are limitless. I remember feeling this way when we first moved to Richmond. We didn’t know anyone, and no one knew us. It was an exciting time of experimentation with everything from wardrobe, language, even demeanor. I thought, “If I act rich, people will think I’m rich. If I pretend to be confident, no one will have any reason to believe otherwise,” and so on.

Which is why on this sleepy Sunday morning, with no job to worry about and no chance of accidentally running into friends, I decided to be a young college student with nothing more on my mind than my iTunes and my exam schedule. I am a college student, technically, but I never get to live like one. I’ve always thought the people who bring their homework to the coffee shop are pretentious, or perhaps just too poor to afford their own Wifi. But as I sit in the corner of Panera with my headphones in my ears and a stack of projects already completed, I get it. It’s part of the experience. The aroma of pastries and espressos, the hustle and bustle of people rushing in for a quick breakfast before starting their day...and you, with your homework. Dreaming of where life will take you after college, what lies ahead of you after that next exam.

I’m dressed casually, but impeccably. Dark jeans with gorgeous whiskering, sky blue solid crew-neck to match my eyes, layered beneath a cream colored v-neck cardigan which is just the perfect weight for this time of year. Paired with flip flops and accessories, all of which look just as expensive as the outfit. My hair and makeup are flawless, reflecting on the fact that in this make believe world I’m the kind of person who has all the time in the world to dress for any occasion. In this world there are no sales goals to meet, no litter-boxes to be cleaned, no rent to pay. Just me and my ambitions, my interests, my latest trends.

The person that I am today is probably leaving the coffee shop to head to the mall, hoping to score the perfect new outfit to wear out next weekend. He might then summon up the girls so they can plan a fabulous Sunday evening dinner with cocktails and reality television in the background. In a moment of weakness he might text his boyfriend to ask him if he’s sure they’re going to be alright.

And maybe, by playing this part for a moment of time, I might be able to reconcile my feelings for not going straight to college after high school. I know the role merely by playing a part in a scene, a snapshot of history, a boy in a coffee shop.

The School of Life

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 23:23:00 +0000

If I’m being honest, something that I struggle with every single day is the fact that I did not go to college.

I’m in school, yes. I take classes part time online because the hours I work at the bank will not allow me to attend traditional classes. So I didn’t “go” to college, I’ve never actually been there. I have taken several night classes, but they don't really count. Everyone is middle-aged, the classes are 3 hours long, and the teachers don’t really care whether you learn or not because they, too, are just juggling this along with their day-jobs.

To be fair, I’ve only ever gone to community colleges, so I don’t know how night classes would be at a university. I’ve never been to a university because (A) when I was younger I didn’t think I could afford to and (B) now that I’m older I feel like I can no longer choose to afford to. I’m 24 years old, and I’ve played the “broke college student” part for as long as I can remember, just without the college. And now, Chris and I are finally being able to enjoy somewhat of a comfortable financial lifestyle, and it would kill me to have to go back to scraping to get the bills paid and not being able to ever go out to eat or buy a new outfit. When you’re 18 it’s acceptable to work as a sales girl in the mall, but at this point in my life it just would’t fit (trust me, I’ve tried it). So now, on the path that I'm currently taking, I'll eventually attend a university in the same manner that I am now; online. So that way it won't interfere with my work or my financial stability, and I can take it at my own pace.

The real issue, besides the money, is that I have to ask myself: “Is the education that I would get from going to school full-time be worth the student loans I will have to borrow to pay for it AND the career experience I will be putting on hold in order to go to college instead of working full-time? The answer to that question is always “I don’t know.” In this economy especially, so many people are recommending not going back to school if you already have a decent job. Don’t get me wrong, I’m just a bank teller. I could easily work part-time hours instead and fit school in on my days off. I would LOVE to do that, but by cutting my paycheck in half I would be forced to lean heavily on student loans, not to mention that I would be stuck in that same position for the entirety of my college career. As it stands, I have several prospects out there for advancement, and SOON, and putting that on the back burner so I can get school out of the way seems silly at the age of 24. Especially when I have the option of continuing to work the way I am, and completing my degree in my spare time online.

Except that it’s not really a substitute for the college experience, is it? When I hear people talk about how much they enjoyed college, how much fun they had in college, how many stupid things they did while they were in college...it makes me insanely jealous. You don’t build those memories in an online discussion forum. It’s just not the same.

I don’t exactly feel like I’m missing out on the “partying”, per se. I’ve done plenty of that. You don’t have to meet people on campus in order to make friends, and you don’t have to go to college to be invited to a frat party. But I just wish I had taken the opportunity to drink in the college atmosphere (no pun intended). I want to know what it feels like to lug heavy books across a mile-long campus. I want to be able to remember what I used to grab for lunch everyday in between classes, and I wish I knew what it was like to be a part of a student organization or team. I wish I could recall meeting someone at Freshman Orientation and exploring the campus together, both of us scared and excited for what was to come.

These things I have a hard time letting go of. High school was very difficult for me, and while I was being ridiculed by my peers for being gay, or for being poor, or for being awkward, I always knew that things would be different in college. I knew I would move someplace more diverse, and would have a better chance of finding better people with open minds and higher IQ’s. I eventually did all of that, without the help of college, and today I’m extremely proud of who I am and where I fit in this crazy world we live in. But I can’t help but to feel like I missed out on the process along the way.

I know in some ways I’m romanticizing the college experience. I know it wouldn’t be all that fun sometimes, and I also know that I’m extremely lucky to have the life that I have. I’m a married man now, and my priorities have to include my family and my career, not just my education and my memories. And I’m making memories all the same, right? We still go out on the weekends when we want to, we make friends everywhere we go. Our life is full, our life is fantastic. Our life is only beginning.

But at the age of 24, I know that I could step foot onto a university campus tomorrow and ALMOST fit in. Sure I’d feel like I’m a million years old compared to those around me, but I could still wear the same clothes and use the same slang and talk about the same episode of Jersey Shore. I feel like my window is closing, and one day soon I’ll no longer be able to do that. So what if I change my mind? What if the answer to that question I asked earlier is yes? What if the education IS worth putting my career on hold and slowing down on the extravagant purchases so that I can get my degree the old-fashioned way like everyone else?

There are just too many questions. I go back and forth on the issue every day. Sometimes I’m absolutely sure that I’m not really missing anything by continuing to take 1-2 classes at a time online and graduating by the time I’m 30. I tell myself that it’s just my defense mechanism telling me to jump ship and try something new instead of completing something the way I’ve started. That’s my tendency, you know, to quit and run instead of sticking with something all the way through. But then the next day I wonder if maybe it’s not a defense mechanism, but maybe my inner consciousness telling me to hurry up and fix what I’ve done wrong before it’s too late. I mean I’ve put off college all these years and regretted it, wouldn’t I regret it later if I continue to do that now? It’s not too late, is it?

Sometimes I wish life just came with an instruction manual. Do they teach you anything like that in college?

My Husband

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Sun, 15 May 2011 23:33:00 +0000

Today marks one whole year married to this gorgeous man. How lucky am I?

Celebrity Dieting

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 23:36:00 +0000

For a week now, all I've had to eat is an endless combination of mashed potatoes, Jell-O pudding, and Vicodin. If you're looking to shed a few pounds and maintain a steady buzz in the process, I definitely recommend having your wisdom teeth removed. I just got home from my follow-up exam a few minutes ago, and the doctor finally cleared me for the consumption of solid food. With that news I grabbed my keys and sunglasses and headed straight to my nearest McDonald's, because MAMA NEEDED A BISCUIT.

And a glorious biscuit it was, indeed. With hotcakes. And eggs. And sausage. Did I mention the biscuit?

I should have taken a picture of the biscuit.

It's interesting how my lifestyle changed so dramatically during The Week With No Good Food. I found that I had so much more time in my day since I wasn't eating! Just think how much more productive we'd be in we chose to skip a meal or two for the sake of time management. Not that I didn't spend a great deal of time dreaming about food, of course. I'd be at work helping someone pick out a pair of jeans that accentuated her figure, and all I could think to myself would be "Her ass looks just like two pieces of ham glazed in honey and served with a side of fried green beans and a Coke." It wasn't pretty.

I still have some recovery time to go, and the doctor sent me home with some kind of crazy irrigation device to keep the back of my mouth clean of food particles as the extraction sites continue to heal. I haven't used it yet, but I'm about to go see how much damage I did with my first true meal in seven days. You know, because I want to make sure I didn't waste any of that biscuit.

Sweet Recovery

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 23:39:00 +0000

As I lay here in my bed recovering from wisdom tooth surgery, I am grateful for all the many wonderful things in my life; Vicodin, for example. And Jell-O pudding. And homemade vodka Kool-Aid smoothies. More than anything, I am grateful for my wonderful husband who has waited on me hand and food for the past two days. He's turned my recovery into a vacation, and I'm actually really glad I had the surgery. I mean, when else can you sleep in and get high for 48 hours straight and not get fired for it? Speaking of getting high, I don't know what they put into my IV during the procedure, but it was completely worth the $1,300 it cost. I kid you not, it was like one second they were telling me I would feel a small prick as they put the needle into my arm, and the next second they were telling me the surgery went really well. I remember feeling the medicine course through my veins and then the next thing I knew I was waking up with a mouth full of gauze. It was magnificent. I only wish they would have gone ahead and given me a quick nose-job while I was out, but hey, there's always next time.

Chris says that on the way home from the surgeon's office I developed a great preoccupation with a Wendy's napkin that was in the center console of his car. Apparently I kept holding it up to my face to examine it before putting it back down and then forgetting that I'd already examined it and repeating the process over and over. As entertaining as this must have been to watch, I reminded him that it's not really that far off from my usual behavior while not under the influence. At least this time I had an excuse, which is exactly the way I've felt this weekend every time I complained that something was hurting or that I was in need of a fresh drink; it's not at all unusual, but for this weekend alone someone is obligated to listen.

How to keep a guy in 4 years

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 11:40:00 +0000

Step 1. Declare your love to me in public forum.

Step 2. Purchase only the most important variety of gifts; the kind I can rub in everyone else's faces.

Step 3. Agree to wear matching pairs of rainbow-colored toe socks in front of family and friends.

Step 4: Put the needs of others above your own.

Step 5: Make friends with my friends.

Step 6: Overlook my weaknesses.

Step 7: Let me play "Makeover" anytime I want.

Step 8: Write our initials in the sand.

Step 9: Participate in impromptu photo opps for my blog.

Step 10: And finally, always make me as happy as I was on the day we first met.

I like your personality!

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 15:00:00 +0000

Yesterday I had to do some personality testing for one of my classes. The questionnaires were fun...sort of like taking the Cosmo Quiz but with actual real-life value. According to the Myers-Briggs Cognitive Style Inventory, my personality type is "ISTJ", which isn't horrible. Really I was hoping for any personality type other than "Bitch".

Basically it says that I have a Dominant Introverted Sensing personality, which means I'm detail-oriented, factual, and modest. Other traits include being thrifty, productive, trustworthy, and aware of my community. I believe the results to be pretty accurate, actually, and I like how I now have a nicer way of describing myself other than just "anal retentive".

The downside to people like me, though, is that we tend to focus more on the task at hand rather than the bigger picture. This is something that I recognize in myself and have been trying to work on lately. Chris is a good example of somebody who shows practically no consideration for the specifics of anything, but is often more productive than me overall because he can jump in and identify what is the most important task at hand and get it done quickly. Unfortunately, my mind doesn't work like that. Not at all. I am the kind of person who has to be on a strict regimen of systematic steps, and I try my best to follow these steps exactly so that I know that the end result has no other choice than to be correct. It's basically the difference of believing that A + B = C, always, and in every situation. I'm often jealous of Chris because he can simply look at the "C", decide the best way to get it done in that very moment, and then spend the rest of the day watching TV while I focus on the "A" and "B".

For example, let's say Chris and I were both tasked with washing the dishes. Whereas he would empty and reload the dishwasher in a matter or minutes, I would take a somewhat different approach; first I'd begin to put the clean dishes away, but I would get distracted by how unorganized the kitchen cabinets were, forcing me to reorganize them so that when I put the clean dishes away they will be easier to locate in the future...then I would put the dishes away, only to find that some of them wouldn't fit into my newly-improved kitchen-cabinet organization system, and I would contemplate throwing those dishes away so that I could keep my new system in order...several minutes later (and after a lot of thought and heart-wrenching self-debate) I would decide that it would be better to come up with a new organizational system that would include all of the dishes, but still be able to be utilized in an efficient manner...it's at this point that I would finally be able to put the clean dishes away...afterwards, I would begin to tackle loading the dishwasher, which would be much more time-consuming than it would be for Chris because I would insist on pre-washing the dishes to perfection so that I could ensure they would come out of the dishwasher spotless. In both Chris' scenario and mine, the end result would be that the dishes are clean. However, in my scenario, I would have wasted more time with the dishes than it would have taken Chris to clean the whole apartment, if he chose to do so (insert LOL here).

There are times that my way of attacking problems is superior to Chris', such as; balancing the checkbook, filing our taxes, and getting the best deals at the grocery store. In most cases, though, the amount of effort I put into anything is largely overkill, and I'm sure from Chris' point of view makes me appear to be ripe for the loony bin. Is it Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? Is it poor time management? Is it the Ambien? Perhaps I'll never know. But there is at least a personality type for it, and that means that there must be others of you out there just like me. It is to those of you that I say, with love and of a sound mind, "Step away from the kitchen cabinet."

P.S. For those of you who might be interested, I also took a Left Brain/Right Brain Test, which I scored 70% left-brained (structured, logical, critical thinker) and only 30% right-brained (intuitive, impulsive, visual). Chris says that this is because I took Beyoncé too literally when she sang "To the left, to the left." At any rate, the results said that some occupations usually held by a left-brained person include a lab scientist, banker, judge, lawyer, mathematician, librarian and skating judge. What's interesting about this is that I took a career-aptitude test years ago, and my top career was also a librarian. Librarian, really?

allow me to introduce you to a friend of mine

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Tue, 08 Feb 2011 14:49:00 +0000

A few years ago Chris was out of town on business for about a week, which is pretty common in his profession. I'm a bit of a money Nazi, and while I was doing one of my regular scans of our bank account online I saw that he had made an unusually large purchase at Build-A-Bear. Confused, I sent him a text message and asked what the hell he was doing shopping in a toy store when he was supposed to be at work and, more importantly, who was he buying toys for? He responded quickly and said that he had purchased a bear for his coworker's daughter, who had accompanied them on their trip at the last minute due to some scheduling issues with daycare. This all made sense, I suppose, but I was not satisfied. I grilled him on why HE had to buy the bear for his coworker's daughter. Didn't she get a paycheck the week prior just like he did? Was she planning on paying him back? When was she planning on paying him back? Did he get it in writing that she was going to pay him back? I repeatedly expressed my solemn doubt of her ever paying him back. I then encouraged him to be a little more careful with our money, and not to just go around spending it on strange children all willy-nilly. What if I didn't know he'd spent the money, and spent that money on bills instead? I mean, our money is his money, sure, but we have to have some system of checks and balance in place in the event of these irresponsible financial decisions.

This conversation continued, off and on, for the remainder of his trip. It was halted abruptly, however, when Chris arrived with a thoughtful present for me in his hand from none other than...Build-A-Bear.

Because I'm an asshole like that.

Internet, I'd like you to meet Franklin.

Franklin is not only the cutest koala bear in all the land...he is also the gayest. And I love him. The sequins are, of course, my favorite touch. He sleeps close-by every night, but I especially need him with me when travelling alone or when Chris is away on business.

He reminds me of how precious my marriage is, and how romantic my husband can be when I stop trying to control every detail of our lives and ruining his every surprise.

Chris is in the sunny state of Florida right now which means that Franklin has been cuddling in overtime while I wait for his return. I'm so ready to see him! But if I find out he buys anything at Sportsman's World, so help me God...

Cause I'm bluffin' with my muffin

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Thu, 27 Jan 2011 12:22:00 +0000

Today I was coerced into baking blueberry muffins. Twice. Keep in mind, this is not a feat to be taken lightly. I don't bake. I don't cook. I don't regularly use any kitchen appliance other than the corkscrew wine opener. I order takeout like it's my job and avoiding meal duties is the very essence of my being. Yet today, for the first time in my life, I baked.

It all started with that damn iced tea maker.

You remember me writing recently about an egg that I once made. A wonderful egg. A delicious egg. Have I told you about the egg?

Remembering this defining moment really got me thinking: is it possible that I've been entirely too close minded about the ways of my kitchen-competent friends and family? Could I, like everyone else on the planet, learn how to operate a stove? Would it be possible to consume something -- ANYTHING -- that was prepared for myself and BY myself in the comfort of my own home?Which is why, a few weeks ago, I asked Chris to teach me how to use the iced tea maker.

The tea maker was a gift from my Dad two Christmases ago. He didn't actually buy it for me, specifically. He got it as an emergency gift in the event someone unexpected dropped by for the holidays. This is a habit he learned from his mother (my cherished Mema), and I've taken to the custom as well. Having not needed it, though, he didn't want it cluttering up his guest room.

"You like tea?" he asked, on one of my post-yuletide visits.

"Sure..."

"Then here, I got you something. Ignore the name on the gift tag."

A little over a year later, I decided it was time to learn how to use it. It was a humbling lesson, really. Chris repeated the instructions loudly and slowly, as if I were hearing impaired, and I jotted down the specifics in my notepad. Fill water to here, ice to there, don't forget to stir...our interactions were reminiscent of Helen Keller and her teacher in The Miracle Worker. I did pretty well, though, and the final product was exquisite. I posted the news on Facebook and was suitably proud of my accomplishment. A few days later Chris suggested I learn how to make coffee as well.

I'm not sure if you can already tell where this is going or not, but I sure didn't. Looking back, I still don't even know exactly how it happened. After the coffee came the pudding and jello, and after the pudding and jello came the chicken nuggets. Before I knew it I was BOILING things! I wouldn't say I was actually cooking, really, but there were definitely more choices for things to keep me alive if ever I was to find myself stranded in my apartment with no way out. The empowerment was freeing, yet terrifying.

Imagine my surprise when today, on what I thought was just an ordinary Thursday, my husband decides to drop a bomb of anguish on me like I'd never before imagined. I should mention that Chris was ill today, sicker than I've seen him in years, and had spent the entire morning in bed asking why it was his time to die so soon. Feeling pity for my other half, and being the devoted caretaker that I am, I asked that he please quit his whining before I gouged my own eyeball out with a butter-knife.

Chris isn't sick very often, and when he is, he doesn't exactly make the best patient. I'm not saying that he complains a lot, but when he finally reaches that point where most of us would want the world to fall silent for all eternity, he's going to tell you about it. Chris describes to me, in depth, what is ailing his fragile body. He tells me over and over again, lest I forget, that his head hurts or his tummy aches or that his laptop battery is dead and he doesn't know if he can make it out of bed to reach the cord therefore his life is no longer worth living. I have to say though, to his credit, he really was in tough shape today. Which is why I was surprised to see him hop out of bed (for the first time all day) to alert me to the fact that he'd like a batch of blueberry muffins.

Um, excuse me?

First of all, what happened to the crackers and ginger ale for the recovering invalid? Wasn't there some rule about requiring the sick to eat chicken noodle soup? How exactly would one acquire a craving for a breakfast pastry after spending the last several hours trying not to projectile vomit an ounce of water across the room?

"Make sure you sprinkle the sugar on the top." he says.

So for my husband, whom I love more than life itself, I slowly mustered up the courage to walk bravely over to his sister and declare "Chris wants you to make him muffins."

And here's where my plan backfires.

17 minutes and 16 golden-brown mini muffins later, I reach over Heather's shoulder to deliver my labor of love to the bedridden convalescent in the bedroom.

"These looks so tasty and...SHIT! I forgot to tell you to bake the sugar on top."

Which is why, for my own punishment, I baked a second batch for my beloved...without any help at all.

I think I could actually be one of the Worst Cooks in America

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 12:13:00 +0000

I don't know where my loathing of all cooking-related things initially started. I don't remember having a particularly bad experience in the kitchen, or being forced to make food against my will. Maybe the problem is that I WASN'T forced to make food against my will, I don't know. But I would rather have someone drive a truck over my big toe than to cook a simple meal.

The whole idea repulses me. The raw meat, the unwashed vegetables, the steam billowing out of the pan into my pores...and as my friend Jason Simone once said, I just don't know if there's a justification for having hair that smells like bacon. I think most people are probably drawn to the creative aspects of cooking. The notion of obtaining a pile of ingredients which represent unlimited possibilities seems appealing to me, in theory. That's how I feel about a stack of new fabric, or a set of eyeshadow pigments. Any opportunity to make something out of something else is art. But I'm not a chef, much in the same way that I'm not a sculptor or a jewelry artisan...I can appreciate the effort behind it, and I enjoy using the final product; but the medium doesn't interest me in the slightest.

A few years ago I was out of work for some reason during the day. I don't remember if I was sick, or if the bank was closed because of a holiday, or what...but what I do remember is that I was starving and there was no one there to cook me anything to eat, and apparently going to a restaurant wasn't an option. I don't eat all of my meals out, especially lately (I'm sticking to a new budget for the new year), but I think it's safe to assume that I've been through a drive thru more times in the past few years than I've opened my kitchen cabinets. One reason for this is because I wasn't afforded the luxury of fast food very much as a kid, so it's sort of a symbol of independence for me, and the other reason is because it's just what the name says -- food, fast! One minute I'm fine, the next I'm hungry, and guess what? There is someone at my local McDonalds waiting to serve me! For very little money! And in very little time! Hooray! Fries for everyone!

Anyway, as luck would have it, I found myself home alone on this day, hungry and (for whatever reason) immobile. In a situation like this, I usually have plenty of back-up plans. Canned food, sandwich supplies, cereal...anything that doesn't require an oven. And, in a true emergency, there's always my fallback staple of choice - Ramen. Hey, I say that if you use a stove, it counts as a true meal! But on this day, I decided that I was going to tackle something more difficult, something different. I decided to fry an egg.

I Googled the instructions, and before you even say it, I know that it sounds silly to Google for instructions on how to fry an egg. But there is so much I don't understand about the world of cooking. How do you know when it's done? When do you flip it over, and how many times? Do you use cooking oil, and how do you keep it from scorching your skin when it pops? I did my research, obtained all the necessary tools for the project, and dove in head-first.

And Internet?

That was the prettiest damn egg you have ever seen in your entire life.

There should be a shrine built in honor of this egg, the magnitude of perfection was so great. On my dying day, as my last breath escapes my weary body, I hope I can muster the strength to ask whoever is near me "Hey, do you remember that time I made that egg?"

Oh, how proud I was this day. I placed the egg lovingly on top of a warm, soft bed of instant grits, the cheddar kind, because any other kind would be unsatisfactory. I took a picture of the egg, browned to completeness and awaiting my long-last consumption. I remember being overwhelmed with emotion. My yolk runneth over. I emailed the picture of my egg to everyone I knew, including my coworkers and long-distance relatives.

On this very special day, I ate my egg, and it was good.

But there was so much work involved in cooking that tiny little egg! After eating it, not only was I still hungry, but now I had dishes to clean! It was like my accomplishment paled in comparison to my failure to complete a bigger task, a more fulfilling task. And as much as I struggled with this tiny egg, I just don't think I could have made anything more complicated than what I'd just finished. And the thought of doing the same thing over and over again for a house full of guests? Get out of here. Hand me my cell phone, I have Chen's Chinese on speed dial.

This was the first and last day of my cooking career. If it were not for Chris, McDonalds, and the power of processed foods, I would not be here today. I'm trying, though. I've also tried to learn how to make coffee, meaning I've always known where everything goes, but I could never figure out how much to put of what by the instructions. This is one of my biggest gripes about recipes, by the way. Everything in cooking is so subjective. "Add 1-3 tablespoons of coffee" or "Sweeten to taste". That doesn't tell me anything! If I knew how much to put in to make good coffee, I wouldn't be reading the instructions!

My friends and past coworkers in North Carolina sent me off with a bunch of great recipes for (supposedly) easy meals. They took special precautions just for me, like avoiding anything with bones in it and choosing dishes with very minimal contact with raw meat. I cherish these handwritten recipes, and I even bought a scrapbook to keep them in so I can easily read through them anytime. Ms. Lou even bought me a rice cooker, and Jennifer bought me some beginner's cookbooks teaching me how to make easy meals in the crock-pot. Kim ordered me a subscription to a really great cooking magazine with monthly recipes and delicious food ideas. Tammy even offered to show me how to make something impressive, or to take me along to one of those free mini lessons at Williams-Sonoma. Many of my friends like to get together and cook big meals in the place of going out to expensive restaurants, and I process literally hundreds of cookbooks at the library full of "quick and easy" food ideas. My grandma, mom and sister have been trying to pass along recipes to me for years and Chris is forever trying to get me involved in the kitchen. I feel like a have the support system in place which would be necessary for me to learn how to at least make a signature dish, and yet, so far I just can't bring myself to commit to making an effort.

Sometimes I think back to that egg, though, and how marvelous it really was. Could I be a closeted chef? Do I have some sort of unleashed potential that is just crying to get out as soon as I allow it to flow through me? Have I been wasting my gift for all of these years suffering through the meals thoughtfully prepared for me by the people I love?

Perhaps I'll never know. Alas, sometimes an egg is just an egg.

My New Year's Resolutions for 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 15:09:00 +0000

Eat less junk.

Write more often.

Make more money.

Love more earnestly.

Make more lists, and cross things off.

Continue to try new things and welcome unique experiences.

Be a better friend to those who are worthy of receiving it. Learn to let go of those who prove otherwise.

Drink more wine.

Hug my dog every chance I get (the cats are less fond of the hugging).

Make better use of my resources (museums, art shows, local events, etc.)

Say "thank you" everyday.

Make a difference.

Volunteer.

A glimpse into my past

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 12:29:00 +0000

When I was a senior in high school, my English teacher had us take part in a small exercise that went along with reading Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World". The instructions were simple:

On our worksheet, there were 12 statements that began with "I, in the next millennium...". We were to read all 12 of the statements, sign our name to the one with which we agreed, and then pass the paper along to our classmates to see which statement they agreed with.

Apparently, I went to school with people of a noble mindset. Scarlett feared the impact that new scientific discoveries would have on our world. Michael worried the traditional family unit would disappear (yeah, sorry about that Mike). Matthew feared what would happen to religion, and Stephanie thought that promiscuity would get worse.

Are you wondering which statement I agreed with? Are you curious about what global issue was so important to me that it resided at the fore-front of my mind when faced with imagining the next millennium of our existence?

In the 12th grade, amongst my intellectual peers filled to the brim with hopes and ideas for our collective future, I said that I, in the next millennium...

...hoped to go shopping and buy lots of new things.

Some things never change.

Wanted: A job that does not require a reflective vest

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Sun, 28 Nov 2010 15:07:00 +0000

My temporary assignment at the library will soon be coming to an end, and I find myself reflecting on the 3 months I've spent working here. In the past 90 days I've been cursed out by the elderly, physically attacked by a gentleman with special needs, and forced to re-shelve thousands on top of thousands of heavy, stinky books (many of which actually ended up in their rightful locations). What I'm trying to say is that I'm tired.

But instead of feeling relieved that it will all be over in a couple of weeks, I'm actually more anxious about what I will find myself doing next. I've spent countless hours scouring the internet for job opportunities, and so far I haven't had the best of luck in landing anything. I'm sure the economy is playing a part in the equation, but I never expected to be this close to the end of my assignment and not have anything lined up for afterwards. To be honest, I had kind of hoped to take a little break until the first of the year, but there are these mystical monsters named Student Loans who have a way of magically appearing out of thin air and shouting "Hey! You with all the books! I bet you thought you had some money saved up, am I right? Well SURPRISE! Here I am! Now go ahead and hand over your grocery fund, plus interest."

So far I've applied to be anything from a Banker to a Barista, and haven't gotten a single call-back. Well, that's not entirely true...I was offerred an interview for the very challenging position of Seasonal Grocery Store Cart Attendant. Not that there's anything wrong with rounding up shopping carts in the rain, but for some reason I wonder if that might convey the illusion of "taking a step down" on my resume.

I'm trying not to take the job hunt personally, because I know lots of people who are in the same situation as I am. Yes, I may have solid work experience and outstanding references, but so does everyone else out there looking for work in this crazy recession we're living in. I can't help but to feel a little offended, though, when I'm being consistently passed over for jobs that pay minimum wage and include mandatory phrases like "Just to let you know our jeans are currently buy one get one fifty percent off." I've been sitting up late into the night filling out job applications after work, and I have to ask...does it REALLY help employers to ask multiple variations of questions like "Do you believe it is okay to steal from your company as long as nobody catches you?" or "In the last two months, how often would you say you have used cocaine?" As if somebody is going to answer "The last two months? Shit, I'm high right now!"

To look forward, you must first look back

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Fri, 26 Nov 2010 15:38:00 +0000

Today I turn 24 years old. Each year, around this time, I can't help but to think about how much has changed since my last birthday, and the birthdays before that. I don't know if it's healthy to love your own birthday as much as I do, but I'm unapologetic in my affection. My birthday is the one day out of the year designated especially for me. And, I suppose, anyone else who was born on the same day as me, but to be honest I've always cared a little more about myself.

I've spent the last half hour re-reading some old birthday posts, and I'm becoming more and more grateful that I decided to start this blog. In the few short years that I've been writing here, I feel like I've grown so much. I'm happier now, more grateful, and most especially more aware of how precious our time is here on Earth. It's sort of nice to look back and be reminded of how I was feeling about this or that in times before. It's like, Wow, I really WAS that naive.

Personal reflection is something that I think is very important in our lives. I believe it was Socrates that said "the unexamined life is not worth living", and when I examine the life I've lived so far, my mind always goes back to the same thought...I wonder how much money I've wasted on alcohol.

When I look back on the silly things I've written about these last few years...the rants about work and the weather, weekend trips and holiday celebrations... I realize how often the details are sprinkled with tidbits of the people who mean so much to me. Like the life I'm living is only half of the story, the other half belonging to all of you who I love and cherish, and who I sometimes throw blunt objects at while I'm intoxicated. You people are what make my world complete.

It Gets Better!

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 15:32:00 +0000

In the wake of the high-profile teen suicides in the media recently, my thoughts have remained with the gay youth of today and the circumstances with which they are so unhappy that many of them are choosing to end their own lives. I am not the first to say that I am deeply saddened by these events, and I am grateful to see the media getting involved with shedding light on this growing epidemic. Many celebrities and organizations are currently reaching out to the public and expressing their heartfelt reactions to what I believe is a repercussion of bullying, discrimination and hate towards people in the gay community.

Because this has been such a widespread story, I hesitated to even sit down and write about the subject. What can I say that hasn't already been said? What words could I offer that would be a comfort or a revelation to any young people out there who might be struggling with their sexual identity or their environment? The truth is that there's not an easy answer to problems such as these. In life, there is no protective bubble in which we may hide from the unpleasantness of this world. Many of us were raised in non-supportive homes, and attended school with classmates who saw nothing wrong with terrorizing us for being different. Of this I speak from experience, and I know how difficult it is to feel trapped and alone. But if I had the opportunity to give advice to my younger self, knowing what I know today, that advice would be simple:

It gets better.

I grew up surrounded by people who did not understand what it meant to be gay. You might have thought they were experts, though, because they certainly threw the word around every time they got the chance; I looked gay, or sounded gay, or was acting gay. In fact, if I'd thought that being gay only meant that I liked boys instead of girls, then I would have probably come to terms with who I was a lot sooner than I did. Instead, I was taught was the word "gay" was synonymous with anything bad or embarrassing in this world. It meant I was unpopular, unliked, an outcast. To my family, this also meant that I had some sort of condition that could be prayed away, like a disease or a rebellious teenage phase. No one seemed to understand that my being gay did not mean anything ugly or undesirable...it just meant that I was different.

I wish that I could say that I took the bullying in stride. I wish I could say that I graduated high school unscathed from always being the butt of jokes, always being harassed in the hallways or in the locker room. I wish I could say that it didn't bother me to be called a "faggot" from across the classroom without even a look from the teacher, or that I really didn't mind having spitballs hurled at the back of my head from the people I'd known since childhood. But in all honesty, these are the very memories that lurked in my mind for years afterward, any time I felt like I was useless or unworthy of being loved. I struggled with this because I felt like a disappointment to my family and to myself.

But eventually, I slowly began to look at things differently:

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
-Eleanor Roosevelt

I began to wonder if maybe, somehow, I might one day be strong enough to stop caring what people thought of me. I hoped that I would finally be able to accept myself for who I was, and to learn to love myself instead of trying so hard to make people love me. I decided that it was time for me to stop wishing that I could be something or someone else, and to start finding out what it meant to be ME.

I have a friend who once told me that I didn't just come out of the closet, but that I kicked the door down on my way out. Of course everyone knew I was gay all along, even before I did, but accepting something and choosing to be happy about it are two very different things.

Today, I am happy!

I wake up every morning thrilled to have the opportunity to live the life I've been given. I feel so honored to be married to the greatest man I've ever known, and each day with him is better than the one before it. Every laugh, every meal, and every moment with my husband is an adventure. And although we don't have the complete support of our families, together we made a new family out of all our friends who we love so much -- and who love us, by the way -- just the way we are.

To anyone out there who feels cornered, afraid, abandoned:

HANG IN THERE!

There is a life beyond high school. There is a whole world outside of your hometown. There are people who truly love you, and accept you, and need you -- even if you haven't met them yet.

You cannot change what happens to you in life, but you CAN change how you react to it.

Make the best of the life you're living -- it's a gift! Our days are too short and precious to take for granted. I know you've been through some things you'll probably never forget, but you have the opportunity to make new memories that will overshadow the bad.

Reach out.

If you need someone to talk to, there are options! Click here to learn about the Trevor Project and how they can help remind you of just how much you're worth! Sometimes it helps to just have someone listen to your problems and understand where you are coming from. None of us are ever really alone.

Make the effort.

When I think about all the great things I would have missed had I given up on myself when things were so rough, it literally takes my breath away. Take it from me: give yourself the chance to exceed your own expectations.

Out with the old

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Sun, 26 Sep 2010 15:26:00 +0000

Today my closets underwent a major purging, and I threw out all the shirts that either:

A) Possessed a stain or other blemish

or

B) Reminded me that I will probably never be "high school skinny" again.

Throughout the entire process I wasn't sad or upset to be parting with my clothes; instead, I was really grateful to have made such beautiful memories in each of them. Some were purchased for a special party or a vacation, some were bought on a shopping trip with a dear friend...I can clearly remember what I wore in many of those pivotal moments of my past.

It was in my closet where I realized that my clothes are one of the greatest backdrops of my life, and then, it hit me...

THAT'S where all my money has gone.

finding your future self...today

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Sun, 19 Sep 2010 15:40:00 +0000

The best place to succeed is where you are with what you have.
-Charles Schwab

When I was younger, I always said that I would change all my bad habits by the time I was 25. For as long as I can remember, 25 has been my magic number in regards to a deadline for anything unpleasant; the year I would get serious about working out, the year I would stop eating junk food, the year I would start putting my extra money into a 401(k) instead of my iTunes account. I guess I chose 25 because it was always far enough away to seem distant and attainable, yet soon enough that I'd have time to become my ideal self before I reached my 30's. The problem with this logic is that I'm the kind of person who will keep putting things off and putting things off until, before I know it, 25 has come and gone and I'm still sitting at McDonald's buying iPhone apps I don't need. Not to mention, the ripe old age of 25 seems a hell of a lot closer today that it did freshman year. I'm afraid that maybe I've spent my adult life acquiring habits that are harder to give up than I give them credit for. I'm definitely the guy who will start a diet on Monday morning and then be found gorging himself at the Olive Garden on Monday night. I don't have many vices, but the ones I do are pretty tough to shake.

Last weekend Chris and I went to the mall to do a little shopping. It was an agonizing experience. Among other things, we were each shopping for new jeans, which used to be one of my very favorite things to try on in the store. I love to shop, and a denim fitting session is one of the greatest free ways to boost one's self esteem. Well, actually it USED to be a great free way to boost my self esteem. Back in the day, I would go to the mall without a dime in my pocket and try on all the latest styles of jeans to see how they looked on me. I love how there's always so many different cuts and washes to choose from, just like all of us have different body types and tastes. Each time I'd go shopping for jeans, there would always be that one pair that made me feel like a model; jeans that would lay just low enough on my waist to show off my hip bone, just wide enough on my shoes to make my thighs appear pencil-thin, and "Hello, is that my ass back there? Because I am WEARING these 28's, honey!"

Did I mention that they make their jeans a lot smaller now?

No, really, I swear. I can't possibly be the size today that American Eagle would have be believe. They are filthy liars from the pit of Hell. How dare they shrink their jean sizes and change the labels to toy with my mind? What is this, reality television? I'm a size 28, always have been. They're the ones that are changing sizes, not me. I'm not crazy. I think I might know how much I weigh, thank you very much.

And then I really looked at myself in the mirror.

I suppose it's possible that I've put on a little bit of weight. And that's not necessarily the worst thing that's every happened. I know that so many people struggle with their own size and body image, and I've always been on the thinner side of the spectrum. I'm grateful for that, and I know that we shouldn't hold ourselves to any standard other than who we are. But to see that size right there in my hands, numbered for all the world to see in the stitching of the cutest jeans ever made, well...it was unpleasant.

And suddenly that unpleasant feeling seemed a lot more unpleasant that the unpleasantness of occasional exercise. Or of a nice crisp salad in the place of a burger. Or even of (Dare I say it?) a bottle of water. Suddenly, in that American Eagle, surrounded by the model-sized ghosts of my past, I was tired of living the way I've been living. And really, just like any other addiction, that has always got to be the first step. I know that I can be a better me, and I want to start working towards that today instead of tomorrow. I'm finally tired of putting it off.

Oh, and as far as the dieting goes, so far I've GAINED a pound. Did you know there are calories in wine?

First leaf of Fall

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Sat, 11 Sep 2010 15:44:00 +0000

Riley and I were just out taking our morning walk when we discovered this beautiful red leaf all by itself on the sidewalk. Do you know what this means? Fall is almost here! Sweaters and cardigans and henleys and argyles and plaids and vests and scarves and ties and trenchcoats and hats and boots...

I am too excited for words.

Fall is my very, very favorite time of year. New clothes, new school supplies, and most importantly...no more gross, sticky weather! My skin always looks better in the fall, too.

I guess you could say that fall is my vainest season?

I love that my friends get me

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 15:47:00 +0000

From: Thomas@ThomasSaylorDesigns.com
To: Kandice@home
Re: Color Options

My Dearest Kandice,

Let's play a game...I'm going to tell you two things, one of which isn't true and one of which is. I'm going to leave it to you to figure out which one to believe.

Scenario A: I don't have your cameo pink fabric yet because I went to pick it up at the fabric store 3 days ago like I promised but on the way I got stranded with a flat tire and then accepted a ride from a nice man with a van who actually took me back to his house instead of my own and has been making me perform disgusting sexual acts for him night and day ever since, until today, when I finally escaped and the first thing I've done since then is rush to my computer to explain to you why you don't have a pretty car trash bag on the way.

Scenario B: I don't have your cameo pink fabric yet because I keep putting off going to the fabric store because that would require that I shave and shower and wear matching clothes in order to leave the house and do the one simple thing I've committed myself to do this week besides sit around in my underwear eating take-out.

I will give you some time to mull this over.

Love.

From: Kandice@home
To: Thomas@ThomasSaylorDesigns.com
Re: Re: Color Options

I hope your butt hole is okay.

Love love love.

View from my treehouse

noreply@blogger.com (Thomas Saylor Tillery) — Sun, 01 Aug 2010 17:30:00 +0000

Now we all know that I'm not the biggest fan of the outdoors, but I do love nature. On TV, I mean. Or in a magazine. Or from the air conditioned side of a window. But I gotta tell ya, lately there's nothing I've been enjoying more than an afternoon glass of wine on the balcony. I've morphed my obsession into a full-on family affair, and therefore I've been forcing Chris and Riley to come outside with me and "nature-watch" every chance I get. I even brought the kitty out with me once or twice...very strongly supervised, of course! That is my BABY, after all! My Boots has never touched the ground outside. I guess it's safe to say that I'd be a bit of a...um...control freak as a parent.

Anyway, on our (sometimes drunken) evenings outdoors, we've met a few new friends and seen some pretty things.