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.)
Just a thick, gay, married, clothes-mind guy trying to live an authentic life... It's about fashion and books, introspection and adventures, probably some food and sex too... Just trying to build a better, successful, happy life
Friday, October 31, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
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.'
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
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.
(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.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
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)
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)
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
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.
2. Answers should be 50 words or less. The shorter the better.
3. Submissions are typically reviewed within two weeks.
4. We only reply to those whose answers we wish to buy.
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.
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.
2. Answers should be 50 words or less. The shorter the better.
3. Submissions are typically reviewed within two weeks.
4. We only reply to those whose answers we wish to buy.
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.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, October 20, 2008
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"
"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"
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Book Whore
What They Always Tell Us by Martin Wilson
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
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
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.
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.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, October 10, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
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
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
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