Tipdin

A no-win situation. I don't even WANT to imagine the guilt I would heap onto myself...! (Shudders) ...where'd I put that therapist again...?

Ever hear Neil Diamond's song called Beautiful Noise? OK, so you're aware of how the chain of lakes is draped across the city. I lived in Kenwood, between Cedar Lake and Lake of the Isles. As a young man I used to sneak out at night, visiting Cedar's nude beach. Many memorable experiences garnered on Cedar Lake's little nude beach! But that's QUITE another subject... Or I would wait for all the raccoons to descend from the trees on the island in Lake of the Isles; they would all swim en mass to shore like an invading army. Silent half-a-lumps emerging from the water, shaking off, transforming into raccoons before spreading out, scouting for food. Quite a sight. I certainly understand about the winters. I've had WAY too many of those. Never liked them to begin with. Purchased a chunk of land in the (much warmer) Smokey Mountains, hoping to build my retirement home there - soon! Talk about the music of life! Those breathtaking mountains don't just sing - it's a full blown opera!

This is interesting. Two different reactions to the same scenario? I didn't think that would be so obvious. Do you have an opinion regarding the 'why' of it? You mentioned that Europeans are just generally allowed to be themselves; however, why do you suppose the difference is so apparent?

Wait...! This was a timer to say when not who. Right? You may have the right day but the wrong place. AH! I would be a panic stricken mess dashing from man to man trying to see if he was "The One." How would you know who to tackle?

NO WAY! Live is supposed to be an adventure, not an expectation. I savor the anticipation that can only be had with innocent ignorance.

I am acutely aware of what I have lost. I know that I'll never again hear that symphony. It is now, as a character in one of the stories said, a part of the music of the past. This is a very sad statement. I grew up in Minneapolis, even though it was a thriving city there were a number of places that I would disappear to as well and listen to the music of life. There was so much music to hear! My mother was a concert pianist and my older brother collected all that crazy new-kind of stuff called Rock Roll Music. (Now you know how long ago I'm talking about.) And I was a disco dancer - BIG time! But the nature preserve near my house allowed me to run with deer and watch the raccoons come down from their trees at night while the owl's talked to each other, all with a backdrop of frogs and other insects. Lighting bugs used to be the light show for the music - entertainment just for me. I spent many, many times watching the sun set - or rise. I still live in a thriving area with lots of people. But I chose a townhouse with an acre-sized pond out in front. I still enjoy listening to the music of life. The songs are different now, but the music is still playing and the lightening bugs are still dancing across the dark for me. Oh, please don't say that you have lost the music. You just haven't taken the time to find the music hall and made the effort to listen. So few people know about the music of life - we can't afford to lose even one concert goer; you. There's lots of music playing yet. Anytime you like, I'll walk out in front of my house with you and we'll have our own concert and light show - it's even free!

Internalized homophobia? Not! Screamers bother me because I was among the gay men that have (literally) fought for decades to try and get gay men accepted into public. Granted, some guys are effeminate. Ok, so be it. But screamers are something else again; there's an ENORMOUS difference. I see the screaming behavior as contrived and counterproductive. I didn't even attend the gay pride festival in Minneapolis this past weekend because it has devolved into a drag and leather show. That's not what the gay rights movement was supposed to be about. We just wanted to be treated with dignity because the vast, VAST majority of us behaved with dignity. Screaming around town is not dignified, that's more like rubbing it in people's faces.

That was a very disturbing movie - I liked it. I would choose the nephew. A terrible position to be in, but...

Gee, I might get interested in sports if the players were nude. I might even be tempted to PLAY sports if it's done nude!

Fifty-two? Come visit me in the winter, I'll show you 52 - BELOW! Fifty-two degrees is when we put shorts on.

Gee - maybe the 'p' word isn't so bad after all...

I agree. Most people don't or can't think ahead; a skill that we used to teach people. Helping others is great, but enabling stupidity is actually not doing anyone any good.

American reader here. Don't like too much detail. I once read a half page description of the pink petals of a flower. GADZ! WTF? Who cares? Get to the story!

I'm with David. Well, not in reality, but I sure wouldn't mind! I live in Minnesota - it's cold here! In Winter, a steamy hot bath (preferably with someone) is a great way to warm up! Most of the time I shower, alone...unfortunately. But isn't that why gyms were invented? For some reason, Minnesotans are very prudish - until they go up to their cabins! On the side of our boathouse we had several shower heads mounted on the wall outside. There were a lot of us cousins, (and some really hunky uncles) that thought nothing of getting nekked and showering with each other. Everyone knew that section of the yard was reserved for the guys - and what happened at the boathouse stayed at the boathouse...! That's why everyone loves to go the cabin, right?

Tell you mother that I love her! You have a valid point. Although I think it goes deeper than what you've described. The 'be afraid' message has actually been out there for quite a while, much earlier than the eighties. But people never used to buy into it. Have people changed? Was the older generation tougher? Why didn't people buy into that crap a long time ago?

Wow, what a subject. This discussion really points out how messed up we ADULTS are. How can screwed up adults raise children and expect them not to be screwed up as well? I raised my 6 nieces and nephews; there was no stopping ANYONE from kissing and cuddling EVERYONE. Even my eighty-five year old grandfather kissed everyone, EVERYONE on the mouth that came into our house. I used to have to warn my friends... My father used to drag me into the shower with him each morning and wash my hair. When we had extra bodies at our cabin, I shared a bed with my uncle who was fifteen years older than I. There were many times when I was in bed with as many as six children - especially if there was a thunder storm. I'm still hugging my adult children and now their children sit on my lap and cuddle with me. Although I have noticed that everyone is more relaxed at home than out in public. It's very sad that fear and stupidity rule the world now. I'm old enough to remember when ANY adult could and would discipline any child that was misbehaving. And Heaven help you if your parents found out that someone else had to put you back in line! You'd be in double jeopardy, you'd get in trouble for being out of line and then you'd get into more trouble for disturbing the people around you so that they had to put you back in line. It used to be called common courtesy. Like so many issues in life, keeping the balance is a difficult thing to do. But I'm stubborn enough that I would help someone that needed it regardless of the risk.

Absolutely A. Even that could have cut down. Get to the point, don't waste time. I have zero patience.

I'm flexible. Usually I just sit down and write, my stories are not so long that I can't remember what's been going on. However, for my longer stories I usually write a good portion and then outline what I've done. Sometimes I do much more outlining than writing; especially if time is a problem. At least the basic ideas are captured. Although an outline has become imperative for my longest story; it's several hundred pages. It helps me keep track of where I've been, where I'm going and how pieces may link to other sections of the story.

Excellent topic. I think the world is becoming too generic. Everything is standardized. Big, solid, dark, HAIRY men are my favorite flavor but have become quite rare. Did all the hair suddenly fall off of them? There must be a great big clog is the drain at the department of public tends. Women have been battling standardization for decades and it's not getting better. Rather than men helping, we're starting a battle of our own standardization war - stupid. I cherish my chest hair! And my hairy legs still get mistaken for moss-covered tree stumps! Proud member of Hairy Addicts Anonymous. Hello, my name is Tipdin and I am hirsute.

For content, I have no idea which is better, I haven't seen an American cartoon is 40 years and I have never seen an anime cartoon. I dislike the look of anime figures.

Actually, there are studies regarding which fonts are best for reading. The font varies depending on some variables such as being on the computer or on a printed page, if it's a quick blurb or a long novel, high or low resolution screens, that sort of thing. For print on paper, the seriffed fonts are usually considered easier to read, for on screen print, sans-serif fonts. But then again it depends on who you ask... Here's a link to an interesting article about this subject: http://www.netmechanic.com/news/vol6/usability_no17.htm

Sorry, not interested in stuff like that.

I hate cliff hangers. I used to get sucked into buying the next book in the series - I was buying books all the time and my bookcases were filling up with trilogies, and volume after volume. Now I try to find books that are old. The author may be dead or the story may have been printed decades ago and nothing new has come out since. I like a good read - but I do NOT like being held hostage. Tell me a story - and finish it, then let me go.

That's was funny. Just a silly thing that happens to all of us at times. WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS WHO IS THE BIG TOUGH GUY IN THE LEATHER WITH HIM?!!!!! Can you say nummy?

The assumptions people make are interesting, and often those assumptions are incorrect, at least in my case. Prior to my suicide attempt, I thought a great deal about others; how they may react, what they'd be required to do about me and my things, how they would or would not cope with my death, etc. I carefully, consciously deliberated for several weeks about my options. I tried forecasting various scenarios for my future. After working with a therapist for a couple of years, I re-assessed everything agin. My suicide attempt was well considered. I researched the effects of what my body would be going through after taking an overdose of the pills I had. I tried to minimize the after-affects by making myself comfortable in the bathtub, an area that could easily be cleaned up. In my opinion, when someone is serious about suicide, not just trying to get attention, the act of making the attempt is quite courageous. Perhaps misguided, but courageous nonetheless. All too often, suicide attempts are a spur of the moment knee-jerk reaction to current suffering. Or super-charged tantrums of a sort. Mine was not. Unfortunately for me, my partner returned home far earlier than planned. Had he followed his well-established normal pattern, I would not be typing this note. In the 30 some years since, he STILL cannot remember why on earth he came back home... With the help of more therapy, and lots of people willing to make an effort to help me make my life better, the edge of the suffering has been dulled. Chronic depression that cannot be mediated by medication is a terrible disease. Most diseases most people can understand and empathize with the victim. Depression is a mostly invisible disease that most people do not understand well. We all have bad days, many of us have bad months, and sadly, some of us have traumas that are long lasting. For those of us that suffer with severe, chronic CLINICAL depression, life can be a living hell. Some people can be helped with medication, others cannot be. The depression causes all sorts of problems, from "little" things like constantly trying to fight back the desire to cry, to the big things like chronic fatigue, and a host of other physical ailments that can dramatically impede absolutely everything we try to do. I started thinking about suicide before I was 10 years old. The last 4 decades haven't been much different. Most days, I wish my attempt had been successful; damn near was. However, so far, I've managed to deal with the depression and its accompanying side affects relatively well. I'm lucky that I've had loving people around me to help me monitor the depression. I think there are two types of suicide when we get into these sorts of conversations. One type of suicide is a sideways cry for help by people that may lack more advanced coping skills than they currently have. The other type is a serious health related issue. But again, most people don't understand depression well enough to see the dividing line between the two types of suicide attempts.