This Makes Me Sad



NEW YORK – Eartha Kitt, a sultry singer, dancer and actress who rose from South Carolina cotton fields to become an international symbol of elegance and sensuality, has died, a family spokesman said. She was 81.

Andrew Freedman said Kitt, who was recently treated at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital, died Thursday of colon cancer.

Kitt, a self-proclaimed "sex kitten" famous for her catlike purr, was one of America's most versatile performers, winning two Emmys and nabbing a third nomination. She also was nominated for several Tonys and two Grammys.

Her career spanned six decades, from her start as a dancer with the famed Katherine Dunham troupe to cabarets and acting and singing on stage, in movies and on television. She persevered through an unhappy childhood as a mixed-race daughter of the South and made headlines in the 1960s for denouncing the Vietnam War during a visit to the White House.

Through the years, Kitt remained a picture of vitality and attracted fans less than half her age even as she neared 80.

When her book "Rejuvenate," a guide to staying physically fit, was published in 2001, Kitt was featured on the cover in a long, curve-hugging black dress with a figure that some 20-year-old women would envy. Kitt also wrote three autobiographies.

Once dubbed the "most exciting woman in the world" by Orson Welles, she spent much of her life single, though brief romances with the rich and famous peppered her younger years.

After becoming a hit singing "Montonous" in the Broadway revue "New Faces of 1952," Kitt appeared in "Mrs. Patterson" in 1954-55. (Some references say she earned a Tony nomination for "Mrs. Patterson," but only winners were publicly announced at that time.) She also made appearances in "Shinbone Alley" and "The Owl and the Pussycat."

Her first album, "RCA Victor Presents Eartha Kitt," came out in 1954, featuring such songs as "I Want to Be Evil," "C'est Si Bon" and the saucy gold digger's theme song "Santa Baby," which is revived on radio each Christmas.

The next year, the record company released follow-up album "That Bad Eartha," which featured "Let's Do It," "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" and "My Heart Belongs to Daddy."

In 1996, she was nominated for a Grammy in the category of traditional pop vocal performance for her album "Back in Business." She also had been nominated in the children's recording category for the 1969 record "Folk Tales of the Tribes of Africa."

Kitt also acted in movies, playing the lead female role opposite Nat King Cole in "St. Louis Blues" in 1958 and more recently appearing in "Boomerang" and "Harriet the Spy" in the 1990s.

On television, she was the sexy Catwoman on the popular "Batman" series in 1967-68, replacing Julie Newmar who originated the role. A guest appearance on an episode of "I Spy" brought Kitt an Emmy nomination in 1966.

"Generally the whole entertainment business now is bland," she said in a 1996 Associated Press interview. "It depends so much on gadgetry and flash now. You don't have to have talent to be in the business today.

"I think we had to have something to offer, if you wanted to be recognized as worth paying for."

A Banner Week

So the high from completing my NaNoWriMo finally crashed and i felt myself get stuck this week when it came to my novel. It didn't help that I wrote a scene then came up with new details for the scene which worked better but accidently deleted parts that I could have merged to make something great.

I also had my feelings really hurt this week and feel kind of helpless to address the parties involved. There is only so many times I can beat my head against the wall before I just give up and now I am done. But the parties involved are still in my life and yet I just feel such anger with them that it is impossible.

Then I (within the same week) hurt someone else. I didn't mean to and am quite happy for them but couldn't control my selfishness and took things rather badly. I have already attempted to make a mea culpa but it doesn't take away from my actions.

I guess I just feel like I can't get anything right. But at least Kirby helped me out with some things so that I could get back on track at least in one of my avenues of contention. I just need to readdress myself and figure out how to make everything work.

Le Sigh

YEAH YEAH YEAH

So I did it and made my National Novel Writing Month deadline. I am so exicted and proud of myself for getting 50,000 words done in 30 days. I am even more excited that the few people who I have really shared my story with seem to like it.

Now the new goal is to have the novel fully done (rough draft) by the stroke of midnight New Year's Eve. I think it is doable even if I have a lot more story to tell but I know now that I can make a goal if I set it hard enough

How cool would it be to start the new year with a new novel finished? (In rough draft room that is!)

Quote of the Day

From the Nation Novel Writing Month Forums

"All boys are transparent until you start to date them. Then they become mysterious."

I find this is always true.

Unlikely Man Crush



So I have loved Joshua Jackson from his early days as a 'Might Duck'-what is it about hokcey players? Seriously-and grew to love him more from his awesome turn as the best gay boy ever--by best I mean he is playing me if I was a character in a film--with his bleached blond turn in 'Cruel Intentions'.

And while I am not a fan of 'Fringe' I will say that Pacey Wittaker had me at hello. Though I am a bit bummed he's thinned out a bit in the past few years I still get very nervous at the idea of ever sharing the same physical space.

I know where he indoor rock climbs and can never go there because I would mostly likely fall to my death if we were to be on the wall at the same time.

Le sigh. Thank OMG for adding him to your 25 Hottest list

Something to Think About




I didn't say it was a deep thought kind of thing. Just enjoy the magic.

This Day in History

I know it makes me geeky and a bit gay but here you have a clip from one of my first memories... Of television that it.




To this day my mother and I can break into a conversation about this show without batting a lash. I mean, it sucks nowaday but I will always remember moments like this.

Na No Wri Mo

Since my life as been overtaken by my novel I figured I would share a bit of it so that you won't feel like I totally abandoned you. It's young adult but there's no Edward Cullen in this mix. (Sorry Edie and Lola) It's been a bit hard to not feel dated in some aspects since I am about 6 years older than my main character-he's 16-but figure I can just watch some MTV, CW and read up on Facebook to catch up.

That said--here' a summary from my Nanowrimo page.

Timothy Blanchard is the most average boy at his school with two exceptions--he's gay and has a photographic memory.

When he is unceremoniously outed, Timothy goes from being the name no one remembers to the one on everyone's lips in a matter of days. Whether it's landing the lead in school play, being best friends with the most popular couple in his class, and even gaining a secret admirer, Timothy can't help but finally stand out.

But with great popularity comes great responsibilty and Timothy is about to realize if he can't remember who he is he might just fogret who he can be.
I think this sums it up nice. Until I lose control of my characters which might be already starting....we'll see if I can get these brats back in line.

Quote of the Day

RE the importance of limb placement in photography.


"I looked at our picture and thought to myself 'that's not your man hand, Lola'"


This was a smaller piece of a longer conversation between Lola and I about photos, on-line dating and teenage vampires. (Not sure on the last part was an actual subject but her eyes kept creeping back to the copy of 'Twilight' so its all good.)

The Little Rory That Could

So my novel has been swinging between bouts of picking up steam and derailing beautifully before my eyes. I'm trying to keep myself going by turning the phrase "it's only a firts draft" into my mantra but it doesn't always work. I mean, my word count is rising and my characters keep surprsing me with the ways and means they use to achieve their goals.

But I have been struggling a bit with a new development. I just realized today that I might have accidently created a "Duckie" character with my book and am not sure how to handle that. A Duckie is a character from 'Pretty in Pink' who as an archetype is the goofy, odd ball character who has incredible chemistry with my main character (MC) but is not supposed to be the love interest that wins out in the end.

So now I find myself wondering if I am going to create disappointment with my book (if it is ever published) by having this great character who is so lovely and flawed and fun not being my MC happy ending. So now I do the dance of 'how to fix what isn't broken' without ruining everything yet to come. Which then makes my hands feel tied everything time I sit down to write because I am at a loss.

There is a part of my that says I should just keep going, regardless of the original plot, and just see what happens. But without knowing the end of the plot I could create a hot mess.

"It's just a first draft, it's just a first draft, it's just a first draft."

Sometimes You Have to Wonder

So I talked to Samuel last night. We were on the phone for three hours, dancing from writing to television to boyfriends and family; we're both invested in our seperate happiness. It's weird because I have never had an ex that I am still so connected to but it is nice and novel. It feels right.

But as we were talking I was thinking about all the times it has come up, but not to my face, about how my friends talk to Johnno about Samuel. They're never directly rude, that I know of, but they constant imply that my relationship with Samuel was not a good one. In the sense of they just put up with me dating him and, by default, dealt with him only because of that. It makes me feel like a fool.

Not because I regret the relationship with Samuel; I don't. But it makes me wonder how honest my friends were about that relationship if all they have to say is such negative things about it and him. I can't help but wonder if they just went along with it because it was easier than pointing out there was a problem. And if that is what they were doing then it makes me wonder about what else they keep from saying to me.

I am more curious than worried, more bummed than angry about the situtation.

There is also a part of me that says that after any and all break ups--we all latch on to the negative things so that we can help our friends move on from heartbreak. That I am reading too much into the casual diss, the slight revisionist history that seems to have sprung up in the aftermath. It's easier than thinking that my friends would just sit by and watch me make a fool of myself.

Pill Pain and Protests

So I threw my back out again. I did it last Thursday when stretching during my yoga dvd and it was just a bad movement and not being focues. It's okay though--it would be much hardere if I was working but with all the time off I am able to just lay down when needed. That and Joy managed to hook me up with some vicodine.

Now normally I am against pain meds for the simple reason that with blocked pain I can tend to forget that I have to be careful. But the pills actually helped me be able to march this past weekend and that was just as important to me as back safety.

And the march was amazing. I went with Kirby, Wynola and Luke--and Sabine was also there but we did not managed to meet up--and we made our way to Silverlake for the No on H8 protest. This was Kirby's first involvement with anything like this and it was my first real protest since college.

And while I was somewhat disappointed--there were a lot of white people which we pretty much have locked down as supoorters--I still could not help but be amazed by tyhe number of people and the pure scale of the event. It made me realize thatI am apart of something for more than just myself and something I need to try and be more involved with. And that vicodine makes it feel like you can march forever.

I have a lot more feelings on the subject but my back starts to get sore from too much desk chair time so--I have to leave it as is.

But I am going to the Nov 15th protest and should have more to write then.

The Last One

So this is the last thing I will say about the past 24 hours but I have to say something so I can get it all out of my head.

See--I can't stop crying.

I'm not a crier. Anyone who knows me well knows this to be the case. I'm a stiff upper lip, keep it to my WASPy ass, no one wants to see a man cry type of guy.

And yet the tears can't seem to stop creeping out if I'm not paying attention.

There have been a lot of people--who in the nicest way possible--have been telling me to suck it up. To get with the program and look at the positive things of the last 24 hours. To just go with the flow. (The liberal flow as the case may be.)

But I can't.

Most of the people in my life can't relate to how it feels to be me today. And while I hate the idea of playing the gay card (as much as I hate the Black card, the woman card, the married card, the religious card) I think that I am coming from a different place then most of those I know and love.

Because today I know for certain that a majority of the citizens where I live think I should not have the same rights as them. Last night's election was about my rights as a person, my ability to have something that is not even questioned for anyone else that I know. (For the most part.) And while we can say that Prop 8 is a gateway for all types of moral policing, we're all in this together, it opens the door for other things, that it is unfair on principal for people in general--today it feels personal.

I can't really explain what it is like to be a minority in the United States. I can't explain what is like to be judged, dismissed and hated for something that is as a part of me as anything else. To know that there are entire groups of people who exist to try and restrict my basic human rights. But these are just large and impersonal examples.

I could try and explain what it was like to be the 'class fag' throughout high school. To be made fun of every day, spit on and isolated to the point I still hate the town that I came from. Even my brother did some of this

I could share how it felt to have "friends" in college make fun of my sexuality to the point that they invented a game called 'Offend the Rory" while my other friends sat back and watched.

I could talk about what it was like to be verbally threatened at my job for being a faggot and how it felt to have my boss tell me to 'suck it up'.

I could explain how it feels to have gone on job interviews and know that I would not be hired because I was gay. The moment when you know that you are being judged and discarded for making someone uncomfortable.

I could relive every time I have been called a faggot just standing on a street corner, minding my business, as I run errands in my neighborhood. The fear when someone out of the blue just verbally attacks you.

I could go on about the times when I have given my opinion or my advice to a friend or family member and had it discounted because I am gay and therefore do not get "it".

I could tell you about what it is like to always have to hesitate a moment before grabbing a boyfriend's hand or dancing as a couple or standing too close together when out in public. About the number of moments in my life where I have had to wait and suss out the situation before I can become a part of it.

I could try and describe that moment when I can see that someone hates me, not because they know me, but on the basis of my sexuality. That moment where you can see their eyes, the face, their body language change because they suddenly know that I am gay and to be something less because of it.

I could spend the rest of my day writing examples to try and make people begin to understand where I am coming from. How it feels to be separated and considered different, to be thought less of, to be afraid of the world, to be scared for myself... (And sometimes my boyfriend.)

Because that is what today is about for me. That feeling of isolation and hatred which I always managed to put somewhere in the back of me feels like it is on full display today. It's like having kryptonite thrown at me, like being naked in public, like being singled out of the thousands as something to be pointed at excluded.

So I will spend today being raw, wearing sunglasses to hide wet eyes, not shaving or getting dressed, avoiding the television, being pissed at the protest in Castro and West Hollywood (because those aren't the battlegrounds), not taking pity or hugs, being annoyed at those who try and tell me they get "it" when they have never been discriminated against.

It's one of the few rights I have.

And then tomorrow I will get up and start all over. I will smile and be civil, I will pull myself together and head out into the streets with a positive attitude, and I will put back on my suit of emotional armor and act like I am okay and ready for the next part of the fight.

But for today--I'm not having any of it.

(And by the way—I don’t need anymore reminders that Obama will be a part of the solution. He is not for gay marriage and is only for civil unions as is Joe Biden. He also believes that gay marriage is a state’s right issue and not a federal one which is a simple way to avoid the whole mess. He only came out against Prop 8 because of the fact it repeals civil rights that were already extended to citizens. This is one of the few times that a civil right has been repealed—making 18,000 marriages possibly invalid—which he believes is a dangerous precedent because it could open the door for similar actions against other minorities.)

Its raining in Los Angeles

As I sit and decompress after a long writing session I can't help but wonder who I will be tomorrow. I like to believe in the goodness of people; that most people understand the point of human existence is to try and live together in harmony. We all want happiness and joy and everything possible that comes with it

And even though happiness is a very personal thing--something that is different for each of us--I can't help but wonder what type of person would want to prevent another person for being happy.

I have been blessed that for all the flaws and faults that my family has--and there are many--they taught both my brother and I to believe that people are all equal. Not just by telling us but how they lived--that my grandparents marched in the South, my great aunt had gay friends back before Stonewall, that my parents were environmentalists, worked with special needs children, had friends of all types and showed us by deed that to be good is to just be open.

That even when we disagree the pure fact of existence ties us all together. That your struggle is my struggle, your success my success and your joy can be my joy.

I may go to bed tomorrow a 2nd class citizen and while I will not believe that to be true, it will be imossible to not feel that way and wonder what I did to the world to be made to be aside so easily.

I just want happiness for us all. How is that so hard to achieve?

Na No Update

So while the novel is not fully plotted yet I do know the following...

It is a young adult novel.

There is a bit of a french farce element to it.

I have managed to introduce all but two of my major characters.

3 days in and I am 5200 words into the story.


Thus far my main charcater might just hate me because of the following

-I have given him an allegry attack

-made him sneeze on the most popular guy at school

-had him get yelled at by a teacher

-have his books knocked out of his arms

-taken drug overdose (but nothing too hardcore)

-give another classmate a bloody nose

And he is about

-have his clothes stolen from the locker room

-faint and be found naked

-be outted as gay during a underground punk rock show

(I think I might be a sadist.)

Why I Love the Nanny



Cancer survivor, advocate and Nanny alum Fran Drescher has just written this great editorial, which we think everyone should read!

She says:

"When did it become okay to discriminate? What country are we all living in anyway? I thought this was America, am I wrong?

Wake up folks before it’s too late! This country was founded on the premise of separation of church & state. And why do you suppose that was? Because back in the day of our forefathers, (ya know, the dudes who fought and died for our freedoms) life under an oppressive British empire was more than they could take.

Living in a “my way or the highway” nation sucked! Dictation, Denial and Discrimination was the name of the game until our founding fathers decided that they’d had it!

“Let freedom ring!”, they shouted. And a HUGE part of that freedom was of course separation of church and state. If you are truly an American, (and not some closeted fascist) you are part of the privileged few on the planet who get to live in a country that supports tolerance of diversity. Heck we celebrate it! We can be who we want to be, pray to whomever we choose to pray and live as equals regardless of gender, race, creed or sexual orientation.

To think that in this upcoming election there is actually a proposition to add an amendment to the California Constitution to legalize discrimination! Shame on us! This proposition is not about gay marriage; it’s about hate, discrimination and intolerance of diversity. It is wholesale, unadulterated hate-mongering and it MUST be snuffed out in a dramatic fashion at once to illustrate to those behind it that in America we embrace the neighbor who might be different from us and are proud of it!

So to all you TRUE Americans, get out there and vote on November 4th, and let’s reject hate.

Get all your friends, co-workers and relatives to vote too and make sure you vote NO on proposition 8.

Freedom Fighter,

Fran Drescher"

Because I Love

So Edie had pointed this photograph out to me the other day.



We have been in a love affair with Zac Effron not because he is hot but we both can’t get over the camp appeal of the ‘high School Musical’ franchise. (That and we are so Ryan and Sharpay.) And while his body is quite impressive, Edie was quiet a bit concerned that Zac migt be crossing a line with his outfit due to his more…masculine…self being shown in the photo. But she wasn’t sure if she was imagine that this were as adult as they seemed and so I—as an artist seeking truth in the arts—decided to give her a definitive answer to the question at hand.



Yes, Edie, there is a happy trail on Troy.

(You can thank unemployment for the free time to investigate this matter.)

Na No Wri Mo

So I’m biting the bullet. A huge, creative, massive bullet and joining in on this year’s Nation Novel Writing Month. I have been thinking about how uncreative I have been as of late and how when I am uncreative in my artistic avenues I am boring as a person. So in order to get myself on track I have decided to throw caution to the wind and see what happens. (Hopefully I will use less trite turns of phrases as a result.)

Na No (as it is known in short hand) is a writing challenge where you sign up for a website and promise that for one month you will write no less than 50,00o words—which is a good chunk of adult novel or in my case a full young adult book. I’m not sure what my plot will be and it could blow up in my face but I also know that even if I fail to complete the task at hand I will still have gotten more done than usual. And where the website really comes into play is as a cheerleader of sorts and a validation point for the whole process with forums and support groups and even workshopping if you choose at the end.

So I don’t know if this means I will be blogging less or more but it does mean that I am going to give my creative side more of a center stage. And I will let all that junk that keeps me closed off fall to the wayside for the next month. Wish me luck—and you still have time to join in the fun.

Inspired By--
This week's inspiration is a picture brought to my attention by Raquel



16 year old Bride from the UK. She wants to be a Glamour Model.


Here's the conversation between Lolly and I regarding this picture.

Me 'It seems a bit mean to have this picture over a quote of her saying she wants to be a glamour model.'

Lolly 'Honestly though--she needs to be told.'

Me 'I don't know... Have you seen what passes for attractive there? I mean--Jordan?'

PAUSE

Lolly 'Maybe we should go to London.'

Less A Trick and More A Treat

So the infamous Detroit Street party came and went this past weekend. I had gone into the party with some nerves—as is my way—but for the most part the night felt like a smashing success for everyone involved. Between Joy managing a way to show up, Lolly and I both well turned out as a ‘Devil in A Blue Dress’ and a ‘Sex Librarian’ respectively, and Kirby and Wynona somehow pulling off a cute couple costume after their original idea fell through last minute—it just felt like everyone was in the zone.

Now this is my favorite party of the year as well as my favorite holiday, but it is not without its drawbacks. I am almost always forced to deal with two of my worst phobias by the pure nature of the event. Part of it is my social anxiety and part of it is my own personal anxiety and both take turns duking it out in my subconscious. I usually feel like I piss off someone at the party with my ADD behavior but it’s because of my social phobia which forces me to keep moving like some type of society shark—stop moving and it will be social death—with the end result being that someone usually feels snubbed or me feeling unconnected to anyone.

But fortunately that didn’t really happen this year--at least not that I was aware of—and everyone seemed pretty pleased with themselves. I managed to dance and drink and pose and party with pretty much everyone I knew and I didn’t feel like I missed out on much of anything. (Though I did miss my friends who weren’t there; like the girls in Mexico and my boys Nolan, Dominic and Shannon. But it is never a perfect guest list. Le sigh) I felt like I had managed to overcome my social anxiety but my personal anxiety was still nipping at my edges.

See, the one thing I hate most in the world is having my picture taken and obviously this is a huge part of not only the party, but Halloween itself. Every year I try to get with the program; I smile in pictures and pose without compliant even though in the back of my head I am screaming at myself. Because I rarely ever like the way I look in pictures, ever, but to not take pictures would be even more difficult because then I have to explain myself and then get made fun of for being so vain or silly or whatever term is thrown at me.

The thing is—I wish I could make people feel the way I do when faced with a camera. Because it is not a simple ‘I don’t want to look bad’ but it is so much more than that simple a statement. Every issue I have ever had about my body and myself gets revisited, relived, and reviled for the briefest of seconds—I see every flaw I have ever had in that moment, hear every time my eating habits have been questioned or prodded, feel my hands pinch and poked every inch of fat, and taste the bile from my years of purging and binging. It’s like the flash that happens when an alcoholic walks in a bar or a former smoker drifts through a cloud of nicotine—that sudden moment of craving just tears back into you. Even after all my years away from that behavior and yet the mere sight of a camera forces me to revisit that part of my past.

And the only thing harder than the moments posing and smiling and just letting the camera happen is seeing the actual photographs taken. Because until I see the photographs, I just imagine the worst case scenario replayed in my head a million times. And when I do finally get the dreaded email or link or see the phrase ‘new pictures added’ my stomach drops and my breath is bated until I can be alone to scan through each and every shot. And while I used to pick for flaws I now have learned to pick for the misconception—what do I see and what do I feel. How much of what I see in my mind’s eye matches what I see in the mirror which matches what I see in photographs—how far off am I? And even though I am years away from how bad it used to be—I know better how to cope than ever before—it still comes crashing back in bits and pieces.

So I was a bit worried about seeing the pictures from the party but braced to deal with it in a hopeful yet stoic manner. But imagine my surprise when I liked EVERY picture I saw that night. I’m not talking about some pictures or liking pictures only after I cropped them to get out the ‘bad stuff’ but just liking, adoring, loving every picture I saw of my self from that night. This is unheard of and made me believe the following three things; that I have learned how to pose properly in photos, that my workout routine has really paid off and that I might actually be a rather attractive individual who has learned to stop being so critical all of the time. It’s even possible all three things might be true.

I’m not sure what it means but it makes me very happy—much more than I could believe possible.

Oh--Yeah--Opps

The pictures might be important with the entry eh?



Sex Librarian



shh...



Shh...



SHH!!!!



A Devil In A Blue Dress, Always A Bridesmaid-Never A Bride, and Me



Being A Sex Librarian Is Hard Work



Seriously though--Shh!!!

View From My World
(Meggy is a gangsta)



So this is my sister—my five year old sister Meggy. (She is holding my niece Olivia) It is weird to have a much younger sibling; not just because of the age difference but also because how different your parents will always seem to both of you. My brother and I grew up with cool Mom—the one who loved Two Live Crew and was all about hip clothes and TV shows and just was more of a friend than a mom. She shaved her head and rode motorcycles, took up yoga back before Nirvana and use to give me books like ‘Fear of Flying’ because she thought that it was important we know feminist thought. I like to believe that is why my brother and I are so interesting and independent.

But this is not the mom Meggy will have. She has the mom who won’t let her have Bratz dolls and takes her to Disney multiple times a year. She is only read fairy tales and is allowed to want to be a princess more than a feminist. She goes to church and has family dinners every Sunday between ballet classes and horse back riding. But even still—parts of our mom pop out of her personality. Like how she watches British sitcoms with mummy and can make the most weird cute British sayings at the most random times. And she knows weird science facts and even managed to hotwire her Leapfrog playmate. And she is just as fashion and cute as my brother and I were.

She also has obviously seen a Missy Elliot video or two.



Strike that pose Meggy. It’s fierce.

Not Normally Political But I Love This

A Meandering Post

So I was bitch yesterday. I mean—just hell on wheels, Leona Helmsly on a bender, PMS meets hot flashes type bitch.

I was hanging with Kirby (who since she has a night job is able to meet up during the day and while I am unemployed it works well for both of us) and we ran over to Burbank to help gets some stuff together for her Halloween. This worked well for I was looking for a few items too and so we made our way all merry. As the day went on though, I became increasingly annoyed at my inability to find the elements for my own costume. And while this happens every year—I just found myself being snappish and borderline rude as the afternoon progressed.

I felt bad as Kirby and I said good bye; I wasn’t be much of a fun friend and I tried to figure out why that was. Part of it is that I am not really into the Halloween party this year (due to the girls being in Mexico) and as such I am not much into my costume. (I actually stole my idea from some one else who will not be at the party but still…) And As I lay in bed I realized that it was because I was bummed that this is the last year of the Detroit Street party and it was making me sad. Ten years of fun and costumes, drinking and smoking, meeting boys and dancing with friends would have to be different after this year.

It seems that that for the past year or so all I have been living through has been changes. All the weddings, the aftermath of breaking up with Samuel, the Lizzie fiasco, Naomi moving to Las Vegas and Kaylee moving in and then out and off to Portland. I barely saw both Charity and Ruby in the past twelve moths and even had a dry spell with all of my writing. (This blog included.) So it has felt like my world is changing but I’ll still me.

And yet I have to admit there have been huge upsides as well. I became closer friends with Nolan in all of this, Lola now lives with us and is an amazing roommate, I returned to BB and conquered. I have finally developed abs lines and was able to be a part of some of the best memories of any of my friends’ lives. And even though I haven’t been able to do everything right I have done pretty well. And still I feel a bit off and lost compared to most I know.

So I spent today making the best of things. I picked up the glasses for my costume; I managed to get in a nice workout and was even able to allow myself a slight cheat night in terms of food. Which is all good but as I stayed in tonight I couldn’t help but wonder if I was becoming a bit of a spinster. I found myself watching ‘The Starter Wife’ while just lying on my couch as my friends all were off doing something interesting. So I put on my glasses to test out how they felt.

Now the glasses have been a bit of an obsession with me, not just due to my costume but also do to my own preference of eyewear. I’m not sure if it is because of Encyclopedia Brown or my mom or even Indiana Jones but for some strange reason I have always wanted glasses. One of the weirdest disappointments ever was finding out that my eyes are perfectly fine and that I might never need them but even still… I spent the night just hanging out with my glasses on, studying my face in the mirror and even went to 711 in them. For some reason I just find them awesome—not just for me and how smart they make me feel but because they just make me think everything with glasses is cooler. (I make passes at boys in glasses.)

And I as I prepared my costume and all details for tomorrow I allowed myself to just give all the negative thoughts a break. I will look cute in my costume tomorrow. Staying in tonight is just me resting up for an awesome party with some of my favorite people in one of my favorite places in the world. And perhaps I might just feel braver and smarter and even more together because of all the things that are coming together. Maybe I’ll even amaze myself tomorrow and make a good final memory or two.

And if all that fails—I love my glasses.

(See I told you this was meandering)

Today in a Sentence

'My name is Rory and I'm a bitchaholic.'

Creativity is Yours to Lose

This Came From Heddy's blog and I thought I should pass it on.


Common Ties
www.commonties.com

Writers Guidelines

We pay $50 per accepted answer. If you would like to answer one or more of our questions, please email CT20Questions@gmail.com with both the question(s) and corresponding answer(s). Please keep in mind:

1. Answers must be pasted into your email; if you are submitting artwork, attach it.
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5.We require writers to sign a contract and confirm their answers are true

I have to admit this is a bit of a hard challenge but it did help to loosen up my poetry muscles which makes this more than worthwhile to me.

A Flashback of Sorts



Enjoy because Lord knows I did.

A Moment of Clarity

I have been wrestling with a major decision as of late as part of an overall attempt to really just take charge and find some new focus in my life. Part of this process has been really about looking at works in my life and what I could stand to change—which has led me to examine everything from eating down to my friendships. As of late, I had been wrestling with what makes a friendship work and when is a friendship not really a friendship anymore…

The funny thing is that this entire internal dialogue was a very backburner type thing—something I ponder while I waited on people or things to happen. This is partially because—as Edie is prone to point out—not working can make you crazy and overly critical and partially because I just hate the idea of closing the chapter on relationships of any sort. But then I had a couple nights is a row where I woke up out of a deep sleep thinking about certain people. I’m not sure why or what I was dreaming but I just found myself snapping out of heavy fog to very clear thoughts. Like creepily clear.

Now the truth is—I don’t really expect a lot from my friends. I ask only loyalty and honesty and everything else is open for discussion or interpretation. What that means is I would rather you say what you feel then kowtow to my emotions or expectations—I want you to be who you are and sometimes it is not going to gel with who I am. I tend to be close friends with only those I admire on some level, and the one trait I admire most in people is their ability to know and own themselves first and foremost. Outside of that I tend to be free flowing when it comes to the little things that make friendship—I don’t need a call everyday or to hang out all the time. Part of what makes people interesting is the experiences they bring to the table and I like to imagine that everyone I care about is off doing something awesome.

So when I reach the edge of my rope with friendship things have to have been lackluster for awhile. And that is where I am right now—at a point where I can’t continue to feel as if I am doing the chasing or the heavy lifting and I have to (for my own piece of mind) put things in perspective. And where that leaves me is knowing that maybe some of my friendships have reached their natural end—that whatever it was that bonded us has faded or changed or grown into something that is no longer sharable. Which is fine.

And I knew it was fine was when I woke up last night and felt myself let go of certain feelings. There was no emotionally output but just a sense of calmness—like it was time. I guess that is what happens sometimes in life. We realize that some people can only be with us for part of the road and that when the road forks off sometimes we part—not out of anger or sadness but that it is the way things have to be to continue to grow. It gives me serenity to feel this way. No sadness here—just memories of who we were and hope that we can be better parted and in our futures.

Bridget Jones Had It Hard

So I finally finished my week of the food journal. It wasn’t that hard to keep track of what I had eaten—mostly because I made myself jot everything down before I sat down--the really hard part was doing all of the math needed to figure out my daily intake. Did you know it is next to impossible to find out the proper information for a large pinkberry? That almost all basic nutritional information seems to be buried pretty deep and it is no wonder why people can’t seem to figure out what they are putting in their mouth. I think I spent more time on the searching then I did on my entire voting packet. Add in my workout schedule—and pulling the numbers into something I can use—and it is much harder than any one thing has the right to be.

Now without going into to the specifics of my all of numbers—calories used and eaten,—I was kind of surprised how much of an arc when it came to how much food I having per day. Like every day or so had a huge spike in the numbers and it was to the point of more than a couple hundred calories difference. Then once I factored in calories burnt working out, as well as general ups and down of the diet, I started to see there was a very unhealthy pattern emerging. But I also knew that looking up this information would help me out and so I did not need to panic about what I was doing. Then I made things worse.

I went and researched how many calories I should be having per day—which is a number made of a combination of weight, height and age—and realized that my numbers were way off. Like some days I have been eating less then half that what I am supposed to be doing. This does explain a lot in terms of being tired or cranky fairly often but also left me confused as to how to best use this information. Because now if I suddenly up all my calories to meet up to the proper number will I gain a ton of weight or should I just not worry about. Or should I try and reset my entire food intake over the course of the next few weeks?

And while it is good to have a proper number as well as a reasonable idea of how much I eat, I am still worried that I might be too close to over thinking this. But then again—given the unhealthy numbers I came up with then maybe I should be over thinking my eating patterns.

I’m in Love With A Genius

Okay… I’m sure that everyone knew about this much sooner than I did but nonetheless I do have to rave about this new craze of mine. Valeska had asked me and Edie a while back if we had tried out the new itunes update and if we had had a chance to play with the new Genius option. I said that I hadn’t because I just thought it was a gimmick to get you to buy more singles in the music store—here are songs you like because you like this one—and I knew myself well enough to know that I don’t need the temptation. I am among other things a music whore as evidenced by my ownership of The Jets.

But then Valeska explained that the Genius option was more of a music sorter and could create really solid play lists based off just one song you like. I kind of didn’t buy into the theory but now that I have been playing with it nonstop for two weeks—I am totally hooked. Not does it pull up artists that make sense—Carly Simon leads to Joni Mitchell which leads to Velvet Underground but it also pulls more current artists in a similar vein like Tracy Chapman and Regina Spektor which means that it is not a decade grabber but actually sorts songs. The only disappointing thing is when a song has no Genius option to pull up I then have to build my own play list from scratch. Which I’m quite good at so not much of a problem.

The only thing I find odd about the whole system is that there have been songs with no Genius—which means the store can’t suggest other songs or form a play list from it—and yet somehow the unlisted song shows up on other play lists as a reasonable match. Not sure how that happens but I guess one flaw can’t spoil the whole thing. Unlike my new obsession to get the artwork for all the singles I have in my library.

I haven’t done anything but search the artwork for the last two days it feels like.

This Makes Me Sad--Kind of

"LOS ANGELES – Mr. Blackwell, the acerbic designer whose annual worst-dressed list skewered the fashion felonies of celebrities from Zsa Zsa Gabor to Britney Spears, has died. He was 86.

Blackwell died Sunday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center of complications from an intestinal infection, publicist Harlan Boll said.
Blackwell, whose first name was Richard, was a little-known dress designer when he issued his first tongue-in-cheek criticism of Hollywood fashion disasters for 1960 — long before Joan Rivers and others turned such ridicule into a daily affair.
Year after year, he would take Hollywood's reigning stars and other celebrities to task for failing to dress in what he thought was the way they should.

Being dowdy was bad enough, but the more outrageous clothing a woman wore, the more biting his criticism. He once said a reigning Miss America looked "like an armadillo with cornpads."
A few other examples:

Madonna: "The Bare-Bottomed Bore of Babylon."
Barbra Streisand: "She looks like a masculine Bride of Frankenstein."
Christina Aguilera: "A dazzling singer who puts good taste through the wardrobe wringer."
Meryl Streep: "She looks like a gypsy abandoned by a caravan."
Sharon Stone: "An over-the-hill Cruella DeVille."
Lindsay Lohan: "From adorable to deplorable."
Patti Davis: "Packs all the glamour of an old, worn-out sneaker."
Ann-Margret: "A Hells Angel escapee who invaded the Ziegfeld Follies on a rainy night."
Camilla Parker-Bowles: "The Duchess of Dowdy."
Bjork: "She dances in the dark — and dresses there, too."
Spears: "Her bra-topped collection of Madonna rejects are pure fashion overkill."

The critic acknowledged he had mixed feelings about appearing so publicly mean. Most of the women he put through the wringer, he said, were people he genuinely admired for their talent if not their fashion sense.

"The list is and was a satirical look at the fashion flops of the year," he said in 1998. "I merely said out loud what others were whispering. ... It's not my intention to hurt the feelings of these people. It's to put down the clothing they're wearing."

He told the Los Angeles Times in 1968 that designers were forgetting that their job "is to dress and enhance women. ... Maybe I should have named the 10 worst designers instead of blaming the women who wear their clothes."

Surprisingly, the woman who topped his worst-dressed list for 1982 (announced in early 1983) was the newly married Diana, Princess of Wales. He said she had gone from "a very young, independent, fresh look" to a "tacky, dowdy" style. She quickly regained her footing and wound up as a regular on Blackwell's favorites list, the "fabulous fashion independents."

Blackwell had started out as an actor himself, having been spotted by a talent agent while still in his teens. He landed a job as an understudy in the Broadway production of Sidney Kingsley's heralded drama "Dead End." Although he got to play the role of the Dead End Kids' leader on stage only one time, it led him to Hollywood where he landed bit parts in such films as "Little Tough Guy" (uncredited) and "Juvenile Hall" (as Dick Selzer).

He abandoned his acting career in 1958 after failing to make it in movies and switched to fashion design. He claimed to be the first to make designer jeans for women, and his salon had begun to attract a few Hollywood names when he issued his first list covering the fashion faux pas of 1960. (Italian star Anna Magnani and Gabor were among his early victims.)

It quickly brought him the celebrity he had long coveted, and he quickly became a favorite on the TV talk show circuit. He hosted his own show, "Mr. Blackwell Presents," in 1968 and appeared as himself in such TV shows as "Matlock" and "Matt Houston." In 1992, he sued Johnny Carson for claiming that he had added Mother Teresa to his list, saying the comment exposed him to hatred and ridicule. NBC's response was that the "Tonight Show" host was obviously joking.

"Did you see what he said about Mother Teresa? 'Miss Nerdy Nun is a fashion no-no,'" Carson had said. "Come on now, that's just too much." During his heyday the issuing of Blackwell's annual list was an eagerly anticipated media event.

On the second Tuesday in January he would assemble reporters at his mansion for a lavish breakfast before making a dramatic entrance for the television cameras. By the turning of the millennium, however, the list had lost its juice and Blackwell took to issuing it by e-mail. Born Richard Sylvan Selzer in 1922, Blackwell recounted in his autobiography, "From Rags to Bitches," a troubled, poverty-ridden childhood in which he was variously a truant, thief and prostitute.

He is survived by Robert Spencer, his partner of nearly 60 years.

By BOB THOMAS, Associated Press Write"

Book Whore

What They Always Tell Us by Martin Wilson

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is probably the best book I have every read about growing up--at least the most similar to how I grew up. It is a story of two brothers who both have to deal with repercussions of one night and the trickle effect it has on their entire life from high school to the family to themselves.

I think what I loved most was that neither brother was a simple character but they each surprised me in how clearly well rounded they were. I think it is very hard to not to rely on high school stereotypes but Martin Wilson makes everyone in the book much more than complex than any young adult book I have read before.


View all my reviews.

This Is Kind of Why I Wish Kath and Kim Was Better
I love me some Selma Blair. I just think she is funny and like to be fun as well. And while I know this video was on Pereze Hilton I still think it is worth reposting.



Because she is just so fun and dry. Love it.

Because Some Ideas Rock

I'm not sure why I am so amused by this but nonethless I am.



I think it has to do more with the fact that for every one of the shirts that vintagevantage.com sells they will donate a dollar to Planned Parenthood in the name of Sarah Palin.

While I keep my views on the election to myself, my views on personal choice of any kind are very well know. Choice is power--even if it is not your choice

The Food Diary

It has been a long time since I have felt compelled to really sit down and take stock of my eating habits. The last time I did this for any real intention was back in high school and even then it was part of a forced plan to get me over some medical humps I was dealing with. But after the Ab Fab sleepfest and a weird crying jag because of a work out routine I felt it was time to really shift focus and get back into a healthy take on my general well being.

Now I would like to believe that I tend to eat well—I hate sugary foods, skip diet soda except the weekends, and crave salads more than pizza but then I sometimes wonder if I fall too far to the other side of the issues. Like do I really eat enough to keep me going? So the hope is that when faced with the bras tacks of the whole thing that I can make a better effort towards redefining and setting some new goals.

But it does worry me that I might get to fixated on the overall count then the overall plan to expand my healthy eating.

Ab-normal

This is a true story. I know at times my life comes off as a bit too much; its kind of the point I think. But this entire story is true—top to bottom—and I’m trying to figure out what it is supposed to all mean. It started off as an ordinary night’s sleep, a bit warm and a bit restless but it was sleep nonetheless with no reason to really be disturbed. And then this thing happened (and I know this thing happens all the time to everybody) where I just woke straight up out of a dream in a start.

As I took in a confused breath or two, I found my mind struggling to focus on what just happened. After a moment, I realized that I was halfway in bed, just waiting for something to happen, with my hands on my stomach. Now if I was a girl, this would be the part where you might assume I was cramping and if this was a movie and I was a girl, this would be the big foreshadowing to a pregnancy but since I am not a girl and this is not a movie your best bet would be to guess it was either a sickness or a muscle spasm. As my mind continued to puzzle box its’ way back together, I realized that I was very familiar with my current position and as the last pieces slid into place I realized what my hands where doing. They were trying to gauge the intensity of my body as they had done many a time in the recent past--turns out I had woken myself up mid-crunch.

I was doing my abs routine in my sleep.

Now this could mean a million things. It could be that my life long neurosis about my weight has reared its ugly head. Even at my best, I am constantly in battle with my past eating disorder, my body image waxes and wanes all the time and this could just be a new and odd side effect that means something totally different and yet totally familiar. Kind of a like a soap opera—vaguely similar but enough to throw the audience off. It is obviously kind of freaking me out but not enough to feel like I need any outside help because it could be other things.

It could be about me being the single person in my group of friends, my fear that I am not doing enough to be datable and that my subconscious self is trying to force things along. That maybe my inner self seems to think I need to get more done and this was how it chose to manifest itself. I hate the notion that somehow I might be (in the back of my mind) desperate enough to think I need so much help with my love life that rest is not an option. But even then this is bull because I have (in the past month) had two separate times where I was chased after by a guy and flat out denied them. So its not that I don’t realize that I am attractive in some way.

It’s quite possible that I am just that crazy. But hey—if this gets better ab action happening then maybe I should go with it.

Something to Make Me Laugh--And Maybe You

I just felt a need to laugh.



I think I have seen both the guys and the girls in this video over at the galleria.

Unlikely Man Crush

This is David Levithan.



He is an author who writes young adult ficition that makes me wish that I was his boyfriend. He has a number of titles that cover everything from young gay love (Boy Meets Boy), to high school society (The Realm of Possibility), to his best known 'Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist'. Each of his stories is vastly different but with characters that seem like everyone I knew growing up and everyone I hope to know as I get older which is a unique skill in not just the young adult market but fiction in general.

While he is not the cutest of authors or gay men, he is someone who's unique love and understanding of the art of writing makes me want to stride to be better. Every book of his is a joy in its own way and he always seem to reach outside of his comfort zone in terms of style, plot and character. He's no Steven King or Danielle Steel in how he pushes his craft constantly.

I also find his efforts to help young writers through his work with anthologies to make him even more dreamy. So congrats David for being one of my Unlikely Man Crushes.

Quote of the Day

This comes from Lola and I making our way through the city and passing a bar we’d both heard about. I asked what she thought it might be like and Lola responded with….

“I hear they have a breathalyzer.”

This just sounds like a real bad idea.

The Rebirth of Slick
So the blog is back. It never really went away, wasn't a casualty of the myspace blog option and is not being reborn due to the flagging popularity of Tom or his wonderful social website.

Truthfully, the blog went down for a bit due to my own inability to understand computers and all the issues that can some times can bring. Basically once blogger and gmail got together we had a bit of an issue dealing with their new relationship and I walked away from the madness for quite a bit.

But having become smarter, and having the time to spare, I finally pulled my journal back in shape and even gave it a bit of a face lift. The name has changed from 'Being Your Locklear' (A loving tribute to the one and only Heather Locklear) to what I hope will someday be the title of my first tell-all. As such I hemmed and hawed over a new name and realized that my new title of 'Beautiful People have Pasts' summed up my own sense of irony and self worth to a tee.

I also surrounded the blog with new links--some to other writers I enjoy, to websites I shop, to places where my body of work has had street cred as well as to places I like to visit for everything from gossip to fashion to charity websites. Now I can't promise this will be the most interesting of places, I can only promise it will be a window into who I am and how I see things.

Now here's the disclaimer--I write only to place my thoughts down as a record of my own progress as a person and a record of my life. It will have navel gazing, it will have humor, it might be sad but it will always be a way to understand where I am coming from even as I change everything. Nothing is meant to be more than just my view--a view that is in constant motion.

That said--hopefully this is something you will find worthwhile. It will cover everything from my friends to my dates to my job to my own sense of self. It will at times tackle larger things in the world as they effect me, sometimes it will be just a simple review of a song or a book or maybe a funny quote or two. I do use code names for the people I write about--not to keep secrets from the nearest and dearest--but because I don't want to tell the stories of others but my own story. (And my parents read this as well.)

So feel free to read and comment, to suggest ideas and share your own. This just a way to connect with me and each other as much as we all choose. Enjoy

My Childhood Reharvested Twice!

Kelly sent me this little blurb this morning

Comedy Central is working with Kanye West on a project called Alligator Boots that merges hip-hop and the Muppets, according to THR. A 30m pilot has been shot which showcases music produced and performed by West and rapper Rhymefest. Future episodes plan on having a different celebrity guest host like the original Muppet Show. The project is produced by Jackhole Productions, founded by Jimmy Kimmel, Daniel Kellison and Adam Carolla, the company that also produced Crank Yankers for Comedy Central. West, Rhymefest and Ellison are all executive producing Alligator Boots

Which made me remember how much I loved the short lived 'Muppets Tonight'. Especially this clip...



The goodness starts at 3:51

God Bless Jim Henson

The Stage is Swept and the Lights Are Off

As of 7am tomorrow morning it will be a week since I finished up with 'Big Brother 10'--though I honestly don't think my job has truly ended until the huge wrap party because it is networking with drinks and sexual antics--very 'Mad Men'/60's workplace. But now the gag reel is over and the house guests have all been returned to whatever rocks we found them under and it is time to get back to the swing of things.

I have spent the last few days on a breakneck vacation of sorts between coffee in the afternoon with friends, midnight shopping sprees with Edie, weekend nights spent in lofts with the best friends and other nights in the backyards with Pam Grier and Isaac Hayes among other mixed company. It has been good to see and do everything I have missed in the last 9 months--give or take a week here and there--to feel like I am connected within my own skin again.

But it is still odd to know I will not see most of my BB family for the next year or so--especially since 9 months is such a long time in the world we work in. As a freelancer, you tend to jump alot from show to show with weeks or maybe a month or two working then off to the next gig and while you make friends on most shows it is a very short term relationship in most cases. Like army buddies or homeroom classmates--good in the moment but not much outside of it.

So to be honest--it makes me a bit bummed out to not be with my BB family for the foreseeable future and that is much more than I expected to feel. Sad seems a bit too dramatic a way to describe it and yet few other words seem to fit. And I have been trying to get myself excited and into a new routine with things like an hour of yoga or changing the sheets over to winter layers or spending quiet time with candles and Buddha but at the end of the night it feels weird to not know when I'll see any of those people again.

I think I might be on the verge of being sentimental person.

It's time for bed.

Balancing Boys

So I have been trying to be a lot more proactive than normal as of late. There’s no reason for any major push forward on the dating front but I have just decided to just get things rolling and see where I can take myself. I’m sure it had to do with the upswing in reactions to my dating profiles but whatever the reason I felt the need to get out there more.

Which has led me to an interesting position—of having a bit more attention than I am used to and being uncertain as how to handle it. This is not meant to be bragging but just some musings on where my head is like when it comes to men.

The first guy I started emailing with was Judd. Now Judd was a guy who had tried to start something up back in May but between work and weddings and everything else I was kind of not responsive. I wasn’t meaning to blow him off but I kind of did so I was surprised that he was still following my page views and profile updates so religiously. And then when I emailed him that I couldn’t be counted on for much in the near future he was all kind of like ‘I can wait as long as you need me to’ which would be flattering if we had ever had some serious talks but nothing. I just get an odd vibe.

Then there is Noah. Noah was a profile I randomly stumbled across that just seemed to stick out and so I figured I would send a flirt or two. He responded right away and we started a nice run of flirty yet not too flirty emails that covered a lot of ground. It wasn’t until an innocent exchange of answers that I got weirded out.

He had asked what one on my favorite passages was in an book and I used the opening lines of ‘Anna Karenina’ which was ‘Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way’ and I described how I felt that it really illustrated how people find more creative value in unhappiness then happiness. The response I received was a dissertation on love and misery and how you had to have both in order to have a real relationship. It was a bit jarring to realize that one) this guy seemed to be implying that you need strum and drag for a relationship as well as two) that he was already throwing around the love word.

Then there is Robert. Now he emailed me out of the blue with a very direct email about how he felt he and I should become friends and starting chatting ASAP. At first he didn’t have a profile I could read (which means usually I won’t respond) but after I requested one he complied. I read his profile and I was confused—everything he was and wanted was nothing at al like me. He wears Brooks Brothers and considers himself to have a slight sense of humor and is not very emotional. I wrote him back and said that I was probably not his type—without being too exact I just basically said I was too Bohemian and shallow for his taste and I was not sure what he thought would come out of it. He responded that I was the first person to not give him more of a shot.

And finally there is Colin. Now Colin is a profile I have run into many times but have never tried to contract. He is very cute and seems like exactly my type but also seemed a bit out of my league so I just never bothered. Then I ran into his profile in a random way and decided to give it a shot and he seems eager but flighty. So I don’t know what to think but our few emails have been light and breezy which is a good sign.

And so now I am confused. Do I blow off the two that seem really into me but might be totally wrong even though I always argue that you should give everyone one date before writing them off? Do I just focus on the one that seems like the best match? And what do I do about the one who seems too into me—trust my gut and just walk or let it lay out?

These are times when I wish I had a headwriter for my life.

Rave

So the way most people feel about films or music or fashion is kind of how I feel about interior design.
There is something about that I find very comforting and creative and nothing makes me more excited then when I find the perfect idea on how to redo any personal space. Whether it is hanging art at a new apartment for a friend or rearranging an office for better flow I just take a Zen feeling from the whole process. I suppose this comes form my childhood and constantly having two bedrooms to make my own which was really important to my parents after the divorce and was a need I carried with me through college (I always had to have my room fully decorated before I even saw anyone else besides the roommates) and well into my apartment days in Los Angeles (to this date I still can’t believe the biggest piece of art we had in 236 was the Studio 54 poster but it so worked.)

Explanation made—I am going to what Lucy does with music, Chloe does with recipes, Dominic does with films and Joy does with diets trends and just give a shout out to something amazing I found on the internet. I wrote awhile back about want to change the mojo of my bedroom—for a slew of reasons some which were good and some which were just confusing and in the process I began annoyed with my inability to find a nice, inexpensive headboard for my bed. I never had a headboard before but had created a faux with a mirror length and some shelves. Being older, I figured it was time to take the plunge and splurge a little but as picky as I am there was nothing good enough to satisfy me.

So then I started to search for different options. I started small with things like room dividers, pieces of art, maybe a paint technique when I stumbled across some wall stickers at the Urban Outfitters website. I wasn’t sure even after I bought them if it was a good idea. Would they look to immature or sloppy or worst of all—cheap? But I figured the worst thing that could happen would be that I would end up returning them the day after they arrived at my apartment. So I waited until they came and well…

I love them!

I mean—if I had known that something so simple and inexpensive had existed years ago I would have never painted the apartment. They go easily with just a few minutes application and just instantly add color and design to a blank wall. They come in a million different designs from abstract botanicals all the way through to classical patterns such as paisley, lace and various other wall treatments. They stick on and can be pealed off so no walls to repaint. And they come in very color you can imagine and in easily to read instructions and perfectly sized kits. If you are looking to add some quick bang to a room and have the time and energy to go this route—I would highly recommend it.

Here are some shots of the various ideas off their website.









The webiste is http://modernwallgraphics.com

Is It A 1000 Right Ones or a Rory Nitpick

So recently I have had a bunch of action on my various personal ads—part of me thinks it may have something to do with my new juju or maybe it just that time of year when people start to settled own or something. I’m not sure what gives.

But then as I started to think about it I realized that it might have something more to do with some new pictures I had posted in the last few days. Ever since Kirby gave me an old camera of her I have played with various type of picture of myself and various things to see what I come up with. And the idea that it could be just because of one new photo freaked me out.

See one of things I hate most in the world are what I call ‘myspace’ photos—photos that use a combination of angles and lighting as well as cropping to create an image that has no basis in reality. We all know someone who has these type of photos—you see them on facebook, on myspace, on personal ads—where you can just look and think ‘who the hell is that because it looks nothing like my friend’. Suddenly everyone is thinner and mysterious and no double chins or unsightly poses. Everyone is perfect—perfectly faked.

It just creates an unrealistic expectation when it comes to people. Not just when you are meeting someone who has those types of photos but a general misconception of all people because you just start to expect that everyone is hot and perfect and all angles which is not true and I don’t want to be apart of that kind of weird falseness. But why are guys suddenly all over me—I haven’t changed that much but maybe I have mastered the myspace magic pose unawares.

Which now means I am paranoid and weirded out and unsure of myself, which is not as odd and out of place as it sounds. I just hope I am not one of those people using the wrong 1000 words with my picture.

Juju Up The Joint

Juju Up The Joint

From Urban Dictionary
Gypsy word for luck. More commonly used as "bad juju"

I have become obsessed lately with the idea of juju. Not just the general idea but my own juju in particular—or to be more accurate—my relationship juju. There's been no real reason for any concern except that there's been no real reason for anything. I mean—nothing is happening at all. And this isn't about romantic relationships or friendships or work relationships—I mean there is nothing happening with me at all. Nothing.

All I do as of late is either work, work out, sleep, or sleep in. Repeat that about 6 times a week and there's my life in a nutshell. Not that there's anything really wrong with that—I've been losing weight and I love my job and I get to catch up on my sleep which I never do but it makes it hard to feel like life is going anywhere. So I started to internalize things a bit and wondering what kind of changes I could make to try and jumpstart either my social life or my creativity or just something different—I quickly realized how limited I was by my current job. I love working on 'Big Brother' but I hate the weird scheduling with odd days off and the rotating shifts which makes it hard to have a set schedule for the rest of my life.

So I started looking for various articles on-line for 'how to change your life'. There were articles on changing your hair—which I have since the weddings this spring/summer—going from dark brown with bangs and back towards my natural color in something nice and short for summer. Then there the articles about taking up exercise which I have been doing for about 8 months between running and light weights and kickboxing so that article wasn't really much help. Then there were all the articles about changing your look—but those I ignored because I am already stylish and change my look on a fairly regular basis so I was pretty set.

Then I came across a bunch of articles about changing your personal space and how it can possibly change your life. And as I thought about it, I realize that I hadn't really changed much about my bedroom in the last 5 years. Sure there was a tweak here or there but it had pretty been the same room through my dating Emilio, my dalliance with Nicky, my flirtation with Chance and my relationship with Samuel as well as the same for my entire reality television career which spanned close to 15 shows. So maybe it was time for a change but nothing too drastic since I did love a lot of things about my room; like how so much of the space is covered in books or the way the orange wall frames my view of the park through my back window. It can be a bit messy and a loud and
a bit garish at times but it is also very me.

Knowing that—I haven't done anything too different but instead it has been a million small changes. I have rearranged room in some different ways by moving my bed and swapping out a table and chair, by bringing in some different colors to work with the orange, by thinking more about the future and what I want to take with me instead of about what I currently have in my space. And while in some ways it has been unexpectedly easy, it has also forced me to look really at what I have and what I want to keep. My exterior is forcing me to look interior which is something I think I really need to do. And who knows-maybe by changing my surroundings I will be changing my luck. As it is I no longer jump out of bed first thing because I never remember what side of the room I am on—much less the bed.

After a few bruised shins you realize it is a good thing to take time to think before you act.

Quote of the Day

To stay topical


'Her last name is Palin... Like Van Halen....'

CNN News about how to pronounce Governor Susan Palin's last name.

Text of the Week.

My friend Chloe texted me about a book she saw on the train one day from home. It was so amazing sounding that I had to share the summary wit you. Lets see if anyone can guess my favorite part of the novel.


Live and Learn by Niobia Simone

It's 24/7 money to burn, it's fancy houses, designer clothes, and luxury cars. It's leaving no-pay jobs and crumbling projects to have everything mad cash flow. And best friends, Alize, Dom, Moet, and Cristal will do anything to get the glamorous life--and put the past in the rear-view mirrors of their brand new whips. A savvy and smart business major, Alize had her childhood shattered by the divorce of her parents and is determined to never fall in love and risk being hurt. Dom learned early to use her sizzling-hot body to make much bank--and find an eascape from her too dark looks and drug-addicted mother. Disillusioned by the faith and strict parents she grew up with, Moet figures hooking up with powerful men is now the real way to heaven. And streetwise Cristal has a master plan to get the secutiry she never to knew as foster child.

To make these dreams come true, these sistahs will go after the East Coast's biggest movers-and-shakers--superstar rappers, mega-successful moguls, and powerful thugs-for-life. But between the wild times and wilder men, one of them is going to gamble one time too many, one will play a player too far, one will take a dangerous chance, and one will face a hard real-deal choice. To survive, they'll have to depend on each other and remember who they truly are to learn that the good life doesn't cost a thing...

Things That Make ME Excited

1) My friend Naomi is coming to visit this week. We'll get at least one day to hang out and do stuff. I can't wait

2) I found a bitching pair of new shoes on-line... there's my birthday gift to myself.

3) I have managed to get back into reasonable workout plan without triggering my back problems.

4) I got (within 24 hours) two random fashion shout outs about something I was wearing.

5) My new story idea is really getting fleshed out and i know someone who is eager to collaborate on it.

Due To Lucy

So the other day I was reading Lucy’s blog—one of those weird blogs that we have once in awhile where we complain about something that we know is not true but still we rent out some mental space regardless.

She wrote this brief piece about how she was feeling fat and unhealthy—this despite the fact she does yoga 4 or 5 times a week, doesn’t drive and walks the hills of San Francisco, that she eats either healthy or very little. I thought I was the only one who felt that way—filled with wasted ambition.

The truth is—after seeing pictures of myself from Kaylie’s birthday party—I wondered what I had been doing all these past months. All the early mornings to work just to run for an hour before I started my shift, all salads that I struggled to make instead of just having the easy meals, all the times where I would rather be reading instead of doing my abs routine, and giving up of all soda except for the weekends and only then because I want to drink less liquor.

It just feels like I have been wasting time and effort almost everyday of the week for every month for the past year. And I know this is not true—that things fit differently, that I can se a few new lines here and there, that I am much healthy than I had been. But I still have those moments where I just feel so defeated and over it.

When I wish I looked like someone else.

Stirred Not Shaken.

There is nothing like cheap Ikea bunk beds to scare the hell out of you during an earthquake. I was at work and on my break—napping in the nap room—when I felt the bed moving way too much. Like uncomfortable college roommate bunk beds where you’re not sure why the bed is moving but you don’t want to look up.

Not fully sure what to do—mostly because I was at work—I came out to the hall to see what amounted to mass hysteria between loggers off and down the hall and story people not sure who to call and various others just standing and staring. I just went back to MCR and took a seat at my computer.

See earthquakes don’t really scare me much—I’m sure that this is most due to my mother being a seismologist—if anything I am constantly waiting for the big one to finally come and get it done. Just to get the quake out of the way.

I know this is weird but I have always heard that once there is a big earthquake it makes most people reconsider being in Los Angeles. After Northridge a bunch of my Nana’s friends left California—it was too scary or they had too many things destroyed or it was too much for them to wait on the next one. I just want a bug one to happen so I can figure out who is here to stay and who is willing to get going at the first sign of trouble.

I guess that sounds a bit insensitive but I am curious. So many of the people in my life seem to hate Los Angeles—are only here for career reasons—whereas I love Los Angeles. I love the weather, I love how it can be as suburban or as hipster as you make it, I love the beaches and the mountains, and I love the plastic of Hollywood and the funkiness of Silverlake. I never doubt where I stand in Los Angeles.

But I do where the rest of my friends stand and I figure a nice earthquake will shake everyone into the places there meant to be. I just want to know who is in this for the long haul. I know that seems unpopular but that’s what I took from the whole thing. That and not to buy Ikea bunk beds. That shit is scary.

The Night I Slept With A Go Go Dancer
Episode Seven


It began with the best of intentions; I was trying to break some old patterns for myself and had decided to try and see if I could find a gay soccer league in the Valley. This was due to the fact that I was tired of trying to meet guys in the same bars and my personal ads weren't cutting it. So I decided that I would put a post up on the community pages of Craig's List to see if anyone out in the World Wide Web knew of such a thing. If not then maybe I could see if enough people were interested enough to try and get something started.

While I was perusing the various other community ads I stumbled across one about how a club event was looking for people who wanted to come and dance for their promotion. It seemed kind of interesting and different so I figured I try and see what I could get out the deal. I guessed it was probably an attempt to stack the club with people to make it look popular—no cover and all you have to do is show up and being there. I just had to show up and dance—something I liked to do.

So I emailed the contact listed and promptly forgot about it. Mostly because it was my last free week before BB went into full swing and there was a bunch of holiday events coming up that weekend so I was busy. The next day I received an email back from a guy named Joe who seemed interested in having me at the club but he wanted a bit more information about me.

Without giving it too much thought, I responded to his email with a photo and a quick bio of myself. It wasn't until I was talking about the story later that I realized that this might not be about stacking the club but maybe something more. I figured I would just wait and see what happened next plus the event was a few days off so I might be at BB and I might not even be able to follow through on the deal.

I spent the next day hanging at Johnny and Kelly's house for the Fourth of July where we drank and eat and soaked our feet in a wade pool. It was a lovely night but when I got home that evening I had a new email from Joe. He explained what type of dancer he was looking for, how the tips would work out and that it was the next night at a local bar. He also told me that I was very cute and exactly the type of person he was looking for. I was a bit startled that I had been offered a job. A go go dancing job.

So before I went to bed I made a couple of calls to various friends for advice because I didn't really know what to think. And the next day as I was out shopping with Kelly and Valeska I finally broken down and told them all about the go go offer even though I wasn't sure what the response would be. I mean I was in my 30's, at best stocky and at worst chubby, and I didn't really need to be a dancer for the cash. Of course they were both all about taking the chance and, between their words of encouragement and Edie's supportive phone call, I was on the fence but leaning towards possibly saying yes to the offer.

The only thing that concerned me was that it was also the birthday of a causal friend of mine and we had all planned to go to a local bar to celebrate. So if I didn't want to follow through on the dancing I could head out to the party but then Valeska and Kelly would know that I had chickened out. For some reason the idea that I could be judged for NOT being a go go dancer seemed to bother me just as much as the idea of dancing.

After Valeska dropped me off at the apartment I went in and reread the details of the gig. Joe basically said that it wasn't meant to be super intense—I could check out the scene for a bit before I decided, I could dance as much as I wanted and there would be someone else dancing as well so I wouldn't be alone. If there was a perfect scenario then this might be the best way to give go go dancing a shot. Instead of making a choice about the matter—I took a nap.

When I woke up I realized that I had little more than an hour to make my decision one way or the other—either off to the birthday party or off to the nightclub. I still didn't know what I wanted to do and spent a good amount of my time weigh the pros and cons while watching 'What Not To Wear' and pretending I had ample time to decide. I was racking my brain on what to do when it occurred to me to try and call Samuel. Out of all the people in my life, I believed that Samuel not only would get my dilemma but would also be the first to really get to the root of my insecurity issues with my body and other gay men. So I took a shot and gave him a call even though it was kind of late on the East Coast.

After a long talk—which involved a myriad of reasons that Samuel knew I would be great not only at the event but great in general—I decided I should just go and try. The worse thing that could happen was that I would either be fired by the promoter or would freak out and just leave. While neither was appealing I figured that I should give it a shot and it would be a great story for down the road.

Without any more internal debate, I quickly showered, shaved and pulled together a bag of things to bring with me. I wasn't quite sure what to wear so I packed a handful of choices along with some hair product and an extra pack of cigarettes. I figured the more options the better as I made my way out the door as quickly as possible. I would arrive at the club close to when the promoter need me there and would figure everything out once I was in the moment.

Now a quick side note—some people who know me might be surprised that anyone would want me to dance in next to nothing on a stage in a club. Not because I am unattractive but because I am a stocky chubby guy more suited to giving tips more than making them. But the event I was going to was a 'bear and cub' party which is the kind of party thrown for the opposite of the usual gay man. This was not a night for metrosexual boys who weigh 110 soaking wet but for the average gay men of all types. Some people would assume this meant fatties who tipped the scales (and it does include that) but this also included stocky guys, built and hairy guys, guys that would be the type that when someone hears they're gay they might pause and go 'really'? More my speed than the usual twinkie fest of gays boys.

Making my way to the club I couldn't believe what I was intending to do. I wasn't so much second guessing myself as much as I was weighing out the entire thing in my head. I was possibly too old. I was possibly not hot enough. I didn't need to do this. I could be on a stage and dancing in my underwear for a bunch of strangers. (Or possibly people I knew from the various club nights out.) I wasn't sure how I would feel about the whole deal afterwards—hell I couldn't figure out how I felt about it beforehand.

As I stood on the curb outside the club, I had one last cigarette and sent out one last text to my various supporters. That being done I finally made my way through the door into the very crowded event. I met with Joe, who was incredibly nice (as was the rest of his team), and made my way upstairs to the dressing room. He encouraged me to take my time, maybe scope out the club before I decided to get myself up on the stage where I would be dancing. I couldn't help but be nervous as I wandered the full club; I checked out who was there to get an idea of what type of men could possibly be watching me. I eventually came to the dance floor itself where my partner in dancing was performing. I don't know what I was expecting but I was definitely thrown off.

Turns out my fellow go go dancer was exactly what you would imagine him to be—he was black and sexy with a great body. I decided to watch him dance for a bit to see how the crowd was reacting to him and was amazed by his performance because it sucked. And when I say sucked I mean he was pretty just doing the shuffling of the feet and not really dancing. I knew I could better than that and my competitive side kicked in. My only concern was that he was dressed in cut off sweatpants and not really wearing anything that revealing. I had only brought revealing clothes.

As Joe came to talk with me, I quickly asked him if there was a dress code I was unaware of and he assured me I could wear whatever I wanted as long as I was not giving it all away. I could feel myself blush as he then told me that he and the other dancer had worked a schedule for the both us—we would be dancing in 30 blocks and mine would be starting in 15 minutes. I made my way through the crowds and headed outside for one last gasp of fresh air before it was time for me to return upstairs to change.

Sitting in the ready room, I took a moment's pause before I changed clothes. My entire life I have struggled with body issues and realized that this moment could be a make or break. I was about to put a huge part of myself out there for show and needed to steady my nerves. What if this was the wrong thing to do? There was a million reasons why I didn't need to do this… A quick breath later and I found myself changing rather quickly into my boxer briefs and tank top—it was just about time for me to relieve the other dancer.

I won't lie and say it was easy to walk through a crowded nightclub wearing next to nothing. Clad in boxer briefs, comfortable (if stylish) sneakers and a black tank top, I had to maneuver my way through throngs of people. I tried to be all smiles and saunter as I heard a chorus of wows and cat calls; these guys would be the ones to give me money and so I had to be playful and friendly, confident and engaging. I found myself almost zoning out as I pushed my way past club goers and headed up to the main stage.

Taking my first steps on the stage, I was unsure of how to start but after a bated moment I felt the music as the songs switched to a Rhianah dance mix. The part of me that loves music and lives to dance began to take over and I almost forgot that I was on stage as my feet, hips, arms and legs all began to match up with the rhythm. It wasn't until an awkward moment involving my boxer briefs that I was fully aware that I was officially a go go boy with the crowd of admirers to prove it.

As the songs drifted in and out of each other I could feel the soreness building in my thighs as the dancing continued. There was a slight burn that crept up my limbs as I kept to the rhythm and I came to realize that I needed to work on my transitions between songs with small shuffling steps to keep myself going. It takes a lot of energy to be a go go dancer but it was kind of amazing to stare across the crowded room as various guys danced with and smiled at me. It made me feel like I was a bit of a star—even if I felt a bit exposed at points.

The first block (half hour) seemed to fly by and soon it was my turn to take a break. I was caked with sweat as I made my way through club and up to the backroom dressing area. I may be dancing in my underwear but I wasn't playing on hanging out in the bar in my boxer briefs between dances. I grabbed a water and my shorts before heading back to the club to try and watch and learn more from my go go partner. I had found my zone and was in it.

Standing on the edge of the dance floor I watched as he worked the crowd much better than I had with the flirtation aspect of the dance. He would smile and play along—lean in and out of the guys reach—play with the line between dancing and seduction. I could feel myself taking notes as I came back on to the stage. I found myself pulling a slight stripper move—I did a quick twist that resulted in my shorts coming down and off me in a flash. One of the guys in the audience rewarded me with a few bucks for my effort and I felt myself slip back into the steps and spins but with more of an awareness of the guys watching me. I used my moves and my smile to get in close and away as I towered over the club goers—just a bit close to the edge of both stage and clothing as I continue my turn on the block.

The night seemed to end too soon as the lights went up to more blocks later. I was tired and sweaty but also happy and giddy as I stepped of the stage, pulling out singles from various parts of my body. One of my bigger tippers came up to me—which was a bit weird—to talk. As I stood by the fan he asked me about how hard it must be to be a go go boy and without any thought I said the following:

'It's easy once you let your hangs up go.'

And it did feel easy as I stood drinking my water and adjusting my clothes. I couldn't even remember how scared I was to come up on the stage or how hard it was to even make my way through the crowd in next to nothing. There was a point somewhere in the dance where I just let all my preconceived notions of myself just drift away. I became the type of guy confident enough to dance the night away for the entertainment of others. It was really more about myself in that moment than anything though and hard to explain. I smiled and patted the admirer on the arm as I made my way back upstairs to pack up.

Finally making my way home in the chill of night, flushed and sweaty, I couldn't help but pleased with myself. I had taken all these words that I often heard in my head and proved them wrong. I had gone from feeling fat and unattractive to being the type of man confident enough to just put himself out there and damn the world in the process. It made me think less about body issues and more about the type of person I was in general.

So many times in life we use words to give us meaning; not just the negative words but the more dangerous and less obvious ones. We use words to articulate not only description but also definition—not just how we are but who we are. Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief—married, single, loved—sibling, friend. Somehow we become attached to these simple little inventions that we use them as a way to box ourselves in just as much as to give us dimension. We decide not only things we are to be but use those same things to decide who we can't be as well. A college educated guy with a solid career who can support himself isn't the type to become a go go dancer. He doesn't need to dance in his underwear; he shouldn't want to have to do that for money, he should know better and do better.

But as I thought about it I wondered why we chain ourselves into certain ways of being. If I wanted to dance, why shouldn't I dance? A very smart person told me once that 'the universe always says yes—we are the ones who say no' and I continually find that to be true the more I try and do. I can be a millions things—we can all be a million things—as long as we choose them ourselves.

And as I climbed into bed that night I had another first. I was spending the night with a sexy little go go dancer from the local night club. And that hot little number was me.