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.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
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
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
Friday, August 29, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
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...
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...
Monday, August 11, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
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.
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.
My Eyes Are Green and Feeling Mean
Episode Six
Okay—I’m about to be unfair. I am well aware of this but it is also how I feel in the moment, enough so that I am turning to my words, which means something. I guess the last month or so has really surprised me with my lack of skills in the romance department.
I guess I should explain myself a bit better. It’s just that I have either been in situations or had chances to be in situations where I did nothing at all—I just become shut down and immovable. The truth is I am rather shy when it comes to strangers which I think surprises most people because once you are in I am totally different. Add to this the fact that I don’t have any gay friends—exes and lesbians don’t count—which makes it very hard to meet other gay men single or otherwise.
Throw into this mix that I am currently living with a dating machine and it just leaves me feeling rather ugly and incapable. I mean—the newest roommate has been a slew of dates and other romantic intrigues and yet I can’t even seem to strike up a conversation much less a date to strike out with. And I know that this is mostly my fault—you can’t meet people if you don’t put yourself in positions to actually be around possible new love interests. And its getting to the point that I don’t even want to hear about any other singles stories since I feel so unattractive and out of the loop.
And I know this isn’t fair. That if I want to make any forward movement in my love life I have to get out there but that’s hard to do alone. I mean—I look into finding gay activity groups but there’s not any that do things I like, I go to clubs alone which is not good when you’re shy but I don’t really have anyone else to go with (This is not a plea for tons of comments about how all my girls will gay out for me) and I’m not confident enough to just run into someone out and about for a chat up.
But I need to figure out some type of plan or I have only myself to blame. And I need to not be jealous but it’s hard. I guess I just really want to be kissed as of late. And I’m not normally this guy
Episode Six
Okay—I’m about to be unfair. I am well aware of this but it is also how I feel in the moment, enough so that I am turning to my words, which means something. I guess the last month or so has really surprised me with my lack of skills in the romance department.
I guess I should explain myself a bit better. It’s just that I have either been in situations or had chances to be in situations where I did nothing at all—I just become shut down and immovable. The truth is I am rather shy when it comes to strangers which I think surprises most people because once you are in I am totally different. Add to this the fact that I don’t have any gay friends—exes and lesbians don’t count—which makes it very hard to meet other gay men single or otherwise.
Throw into this mix that I am currently living with a dating machine and it just leaves me feeling rather ugly and incapable. I mean—the newest roommate has been a slew of dates and other romantic intrigues and yet I can’t even seem to strike up a conversation much less a date to strike out with. And I know that this is mostly my fault—you can’t meet people if you don’t put yourself in positions to actually be around possible new love interests. And its getting to the point that I don’t even want to hear about any other singles stories since I feel so unattractive and out of the loop.
And I know this isn’t fair. That if I want to make any forward movement in my love life I have to get out there but that’s hard to do alone. I mean—I look into finding gay activity groups but there’s not any that do things I like, I go to clubs alone which is not good when you’re shy but I don’t really have anyone else to go with (This is not a plea for tons of comments about how all my girls will gay out for me) and I’m not confident enough to just run into someone out and about for a chat up.
But I need to figure out some type of plan or I have only myself to blame. And I need to not be jealous but it’s hard. I guess I just really want to be kissed as of late. And I’m not normally this guy
The Emotional Six Pack
Episode Five
Now every romantic lead in a sitcom needs a friendly ear, and since my dating life is on its way to becoming one I figured—using my friends—I should break down the kind of backup one needs when hitting the dating world.
The Slut. This friend has done everything twice and has told everyone about it at least once when they shouldn’t have. They almost never go home alone, they always have that one medical scare that makes you realize you’re not that bad off and they clear out the deadweight because they end up with one person in the bar that’s looking for a fun lay. But they never really judge you because whatever you did is never ‘that bad’ compared to them, they totally know what that ‘thing’ is that you think you want to try sexually and always know where’s there a free clinic and are willing to drive because its just one of things that you have to do as a sexual responsible adult.
The Informer. The informer is probably the greatest asset all around when it comes to dating. They know what club/bar/party to go, they know what you should wear and when to wear it, and they always have the latest song that you should ‘know’ for when you go out dancing. They are a crash course in the ins and outs of hitting the single scene successfully. They are also quite good at getting information—they will (after five minutes) find out for you everything you wanted to know about the cute guy at the end of the bar and are glad to be of service.
The Barometer. The barometer is probably the odd one in the group—not just in category but in purpose. They, at various times, can make you look thinner, smarter about the subject at hand, more cultured about a scene which sounds mean but is totally true. Sometimes they’re that one friend that doesn’t belong out with you; like the token single girl who comes out with you to the hottest gay club in West Hollywood just to dance. What’s good about this friend is that you can tell if the person who you are chatting up is a good one because if that guy talks to the barometer then you know the guy you want is nice.
The Coupled. They constantly give you proper perspective when in the dating scene. They have advice on what makes a relationship work because they’re in the trenches and can always break a guy down without any of that ‘you meeting guys and I’m not’ jealousy getting in the way. (Although you are at points secretly jealous of the fact that they have an awesome partner and they are secretly jealous that because you’re single you can run off to Vegas ‘just because’ without having to be responsible for someone else. They also remind why you are out there dating—to have a happy ending like theirs.
The Go Getter. This friend is the one who makes the night happen. He always has a story because they take chances which always seem to end with ‘and then Brad Pitt showed up!’ They are the first to suggest tequila shots, push you towards the really hot girl you’re too scared to talk to and end up leading the gang as you dance your way across the tables. They see no barriers, only things you haven’t succeeded at yet and when you hang with them it’s like being with the coolest, funniest, and dangerous person in the room. They know how to set it off and keep it going.
The Observer. This friend is always paying attention and knows enough about human behavior and body language to tell you more about something than you would have ever guessed. They are usually quiet but always aware of what’s going on and what it all means--the first to notice the guy’s wedding ring or that hot girl has been at every guy’s table scoring free drinks. They know when you have too much to drink to realize the kind of guy you’re talking to or that the hot guy is staring at the Slut’s happy trail while talking you to thus meaning you’re wasting your time. And they’re always a good listener with an outsider’s viewpoint.
The best thing about having a group of friends like this is that together they give you a complete picture of what you’re doing, how you’re doing it and what to do next. They’re honest and funny and supportive without judging or dismissing the process because they’ve been there right with you. And while the roles can change a lot (like when you go to the S & M themed club and the barometer knows more about spanking then the rest of you combined) there’s something comforting in having those roles being filled.
Episode Five
Now every romantic lead in a sitcom needs a friendly ear, and since my dating life is on its way to becoming one I figured—using my friends—I should break down the kind of backup one needs when hitting the dating world.
The Slut. This friend has done everything twice and has told everyone about it at least once when they shouldn’t have. They almost never go home alone, they always have that one medical scare that makes you realize you’re not that bad off and they clear out the deadweight because they end up with one person in the bar that’s looking for a fun lay. But they never really judge you because whatever you did is never ‘that bad’ compared to them, they totally know what that ‘thing’ is that you think you want to try sexually and always know where’s there a free clinic and are willing to drive because its just one of things that you have to do as a sexual responsible adult.
The Informer. The informer is probably the greatest asset all around when it comes to dating. They know what club/bar/party to go, they know what you should wear and when to wear it, and they always have the latest song that you should ‘know’ for when you go out dancing. They are a crash course in the ins and outs of hitting the single scene successfully. They are also quite good at getting information—they will (after five minutes) find out for you everything you wanted to know about the cute guy at the end of the bar and are glad to be of service.
The Barometer. The barometer is probably the odd one in the group—not just in category but in purpose. They, at various times, can make you look thinner, smarter about the subject at hand, more cultured about a scene which sounds mean but is totally true. Sometimes they’re that one friend that doesn’t belong out with you; like the token single girl who comes out with you to the hottest gay club in West Hollywood just to dance. What’s good about this friend is that you can tell if the person who you are chatting up is a good one because if that guy talks to the barometer then you know the guy you want is nice.
The Coupled. They constantly give you proper perspective when in the dating scene. They have advice on what makes a relationship work because they’re in the trenches and can always break a guy down without any of that ‘you meeting guys and I’m not’ jealousy getting in the way. (Although you are at points secretly jealous of the fact that they have an awesome partner and they are secretly jealous that because you’re single you can run off to Vegas ‘just because’ without having to be responsible for someone else. They also remind why you are out there dating—to have a happy ending like theirs.
The Go Getter. This friend is the one who makes the night happen. He always has a story because they take chances which always seem to end with ‘and then Brad Pitt showed up!’ They are the first to suggest tequila shots, push you towards the really hot girl you’re too scared to talk to and end up leading the gang as you dance your way across the tables. They see no barriers, only things you haven’t succeeded at yet and when you hang with them it’s like being with the coolest, funniest, and dangerous person in the room. They know how to set it off and keep it going.
The Observer. This friend is always paying attention and knows enough about human behavior and body language to tell you more about something than you would have ever guessed. They are usually quiet but always aware of what’s going on and what it all means--the first to notice the guy’s wedding ring or that hot girl has been at every guy’s table scoring free drinks. They know when you have too much to drink to realize the kind of guy you’re talking to or that the hot guy is staring at the Slut’s happy trail while talking you to thus meaning you’re wasting your time. And they’re always a good listener with an outsider’s viewpoint.
The best thing about having a group of friends like this is that together they give you a complete picture of what you’re doing, how you’re doing it and what to do next. They’re honest and funny and supportive without judging or dismissing the process because they’ve been there right with you. And while the roles can change a lot (like when you go to the S & M themed club and the barometer knows more about spanking then the rest of you combined) there’s something comforting in having those roles being filled.
Ashes to Ashes
Episode Four
So I recently had a bad break up. I was heavily involved with a man named Samuel who for all intensive purposes should have never been my boyfriend. Now of course there is the standard mourning period post break up: get drunk, eat ice cream, watch 'Beautiful Thing', get mad, go out and dance with strangers, and talk it to death with the nearest and dearest. And then you finally wake up one morning and you just don't care anymore. It happens.
Now, during the break up I had fallen of the radar socially, so in my new improved state of mind I hit the social whirl with a fierceness that boarded on impossible to maintain. Everything was a reason to be dressed up, pleasant and funny with smiles and witty conversations. In the spirit of this I hit the beach for an 'end of the summer' bonfire to welcome back an old friend to Los Angeles. Because it was a bonfire on the beach I was all dressed up in what I call my 'Karate Kid' chic look--tan and white sweater with tousled hair and A&F shorts while everyone else was in 'walk the dog' clothes. It was nice to be out by the ocean even if there were too many planes flying overhead.
As I was making s'mores with a handful of my girls, I was surprised to see a random friend of ours, Nicky, show up at the fire pit. Nicky is someone we have known since college; he works in the industry like most of us but is usually too busy to come to most social outings. I felt a bit weird seeing him because like me, he was the only other gay man present at the event. It didn't help that he was also my 'good on paper' or GOP.
Most everyone at some point in their life has ‘GOP’—that person with whom you have so much in common between interests and goals and just the general things that seem key to building a strong relationship but there is just one thing off. This is not to be confused with ‘the one that got away’ which is somebody you had dated and had a great relationship with but something got in the way of a long term match. The ‘GOP’ is never really someone you date but seems like you should date, want to date or would make sense for your date.
Now Nicky and I have had this relationship of sorts off and on. We shared the same friends, worked in various aspects of the same industry, both wanted families and loved to explore, travel and being artistic. We had a brief involvement for the better part of a year—not dating but casual hook ups that lead to awkward moments with little chance of a full romantic follow through. We hadn’t, since the last series of hook ups, spent any time together but had a series of unexpected run ins at various functions.
What makes this annoying to me is that one some level I always believed that Nicky and I could be a viable couple if we gave it a shot. I never really told him because he was always so quiet and removed after our little hook ups that it seemed to be point less to do so. And what was even more annoying is that whenever I seemed to be lonely or down Nicky would just appear and we would have these moments of intensity where it was obvious to most of our fiends that we are still very attracted to each other but not willing to try and do anything about it.
That’s where my head was at as I laid out on the blanket by the fire, just trying to pretend that I wasn’t attracted to Nicky, because there’s no point to chasing a GOP. It will never work no matter how many mixed moments we have. Because even though he chose to share my blanket at the fire pit, even though we talked about my break up and how he thought I was attractive enough to get another relationship right away, that even though he played with my hair….
For a second I wondered where it could have gone—if we were just different enough to make it work. But as the fire died out and we packed up to head home I realized the fact that there’s a GOP means there still has to be a Mr. Right. And that’s what I’m after; not another pit stop along the way. And the fact he thought I looked good means I still have it.
And that I need to work that look more often to find someone is better than ‘good on paper’.
Episode Four
So I recently had a bad break up. I was heavily involved with a man named Samuel who for all intensive purposes should have never been my boyfriend. Now of course there is the standard mourning period post break up: get drunk, eat ice cream, watch 'Beautiful Thing', get mad, go out and dance with strangers, and talk it to death with the nearest and dearest. And then you finally wake up one morning and you just don't care anymore. It happens.
Now, during the break up I had fallen of the radar socially, so in my new improved state of mind I hit the social whirl with a fierceness that boarded on impossible to maintain. Everything was a reason to be dressed up, pleasant and funny with smiles and witty conversations. In the spirit of this I hit the beach for an 'end of the summer' bonfire to welcome back an old friend to Los Angeles. Because it was a bonfire on the beach I was all dressed up in what I call my 'Karate Kid' chic look--tan and white sweater with tousled hair and A&F shorts while everyone else was in 'walk the dog' clothes. It was nice to be out by the ocean even if there were too many planes flying overhead.
As I was making s'mores with a handful of my girls, I was surprised to see a random friend of ours, Nicky, show up at the fire pit. Nicky is someone we have known since college; he works in the industry like most of us but is usually too busy to come to most social outings. I felt a bit weird seeing him because like me, he was the only other gay man present at the event. It didn't help that he was also my 'good on paper' or GOP.
Most everyone at some point in their life has ‘GOP’—that person with whom you have so much in common between interests and goals and just the general things that seem key to building a strong relationship but there is just one thing off. This is not to be confused with ‘the one that got away’ which is somebody you had dated and had a great relationship with but something got in the way of a long term match. The ‘GOP’ is never really someone you date but seems like you should date, want to date or would make sense for your date.
Now Nicky and I have had this relationship of sorts off and on. We shared the same friends, worked in various aspects of the same industry, both wanted families and loved to explore, travel and being artistic. We had a brief involvement for the better part of a year—not dating but casual hook ups that lead to awkward moments with little chance of a full romantic follow through. We hadn’t, since the last series of hook ups, spent any time together but had a series of unexpected run ins at various functions.
What makes this annoying to me is that one some level I always believed that Nicky and I could be a viable couple if we gave it a shot. I never really told him because he was always so quiet and removed after our little hook ups that it seemed to be point less to do so. And what was even more annoying is that whenever I seemed to be lonely or down Nicky would just appear and we would have these moments of intensity where it was obvious to most of our fiends that we are still very attracted to each other but not willing to try and do anything about it.
That’s where my head was at as I laid out on the blanket by the fire, just trying to pretend that I wasn’t attracted to Nicky, because there’s no point to chasing a GOP. It will never work no matter how many mixed moments we have. Because even though he chose to share my blanket at the fire pit, even though we talked about my break up and how he thought I was attractive enough to get another relationship right away, that even though he played with my hair….
For a second I wondered where it could have gone—if we were just different enough to make it work. But as the fire died out and we packed up to head home I realized the fact that there’s a GOP means there still has to be a Mr. Right. And that’s what I’m after; not another pit stop along the way. And the fact he thought I looked good means I still have it.
And that I need to work that look more often to find someone is better than ‘good on paper’.
Selling Your Self Hot?
Episode Three
So I have been slowly making steps and plans to getting back into the dating scene. I’ve been going out to bars and getting used to being around guys again—though I have yet to dance with myself much less anyone else. But everything is a process and it’s about the steps so I feel like I’m doing fine thus far.
That being said, I’ve also been trying to get myself datable in other ways. I’ve been slowly going back into working out—a combination of kickboxing DV for a half an hour three times a week and starting to run two other nights a week. It’s been a bit hard since I have not been running for awhile but I have been surprised but how much I am loving it again. Add to that me cutting back on smoking and working on a better diet with a lot more veggies and less dairy and its looking good if hard sometimes.
The next big step has been pulling together personal ads with various on-line sites. I like on-line sites because it’s like being constantly dressed up and with a witty if earnest introduction of sorts. But it’s always hard to pull an ad together; to try and figure out the best of your self while being honest and truthful.
And it’s not just the weight/height/age stuff which can be a bit hard to put to paper but trying to figure out how to best explain your personality. You start to question every word you use and every option you’re giving. Am I sincere? Charming? Adventurous? Would my friends say the same thing? Should I have them write the ad for me?
And then you have to talk about what you like and are into without being trite or too common. Everyone likes walks on the beach and cuddling and slow dancing so you have to really sit down and think about how you are and what makes you a good catch. Should I mention that I like to do interior design or is that too gay? With sports information can I check off the hockey box even though I just like to go and watch it? It’s rather hard to do.
Then once you feel like you have nailed yourself (Looks, personality, interests) down to a paragraph or two it comes time to try narrow down what you are looking for. A list is like that is hard—beyond trying to be open and not shallow in the looks department—because it’s hard to know what creates romantic possibility, not even thinking about a long term relationship might entail from a partner.
Do I want someone who speaks his mind? Should I close myself off to divorced men? Men with kids? Men who work part time or are still in school? Do I want someone who is spontaneous? Someone who is driven? Likes to travel or stay home? Needles to say it’s been a rather daunting process.
This doesn’t even include how to pick the right picture that makes me datable and yet still looks like me. Which is very hard in this day of the myspace angle.
Episode Three
So I have been slowly making steps and plans to getting back into the dating scene. I’ve been going out to bars and getting used to being around guys again—though I have yet to dance with myself much less anyone else. But everything is a process and it’s about the steps so I feel like I’m doing fine thus far.
That being said, I’ve also been trying to get myself datable in other ways. I’ve been slowly going back into working out—a combination of kickboxing DV for a half an hour three times a week and starting to run two other nights a week. It’s been a bit hard since I have not been running for awhile but I have been surprised but how much I am loving it again. Add to that me cutting back on smoking and working on a better diet with a lot more veggies and less dairy and its looking good if hard sometimes.
The next big step has been pulling together personal ads with various on-line sites. I like on-line sites because it’s like being constantly dressed up and with a witty if earnest introduction of sorts. But it’s always hard to pull an ad together; to try and figure out the best of your self while being honest and truthful.
And it’s not just the weight/height/age stuff which can be a bit hard to put to paper but trying to figure out how to best explain your personality. You start to question every word you use and every option you’re giving. Am I sincere? Charming? Adventurous? Would my friends say the same thing? Should I have them write the ad for me?
And then you have to talk about what you like and are into without being trite or too common. Everyone likes walks on the beach and cuddling and slow dancing so you have to really sit down and think about how you are and what makes you a good catch. Should I mention that I like to do interior design or is that too gay? With sports information can I check off the hockey box even though I just like to go and watch it? It’s rather hard to do.
Then once you feel like you have nailed yourself (Looks, personality, interests) down to a paragraph or two it comes time to try narrow down what you are looking for. A list is like that is hard—beyond trying to be open and not shallow in the looks department—because it’s hard to know what creates romantic possibility, not even thinking about a long term relationship might entail from a partner.
Do I want someone who speaks his mind? Should I close myself off to divorced men? Men with kids? Men who work part time or are still in school? Do I want someone who is spontaneous? Someone who is driven? Likes to travel or stay home? Needles to say it’s been a rather daunting process.
This doesn’t even include how to pick the right picture that makes me datable and yet still looks like me. Which is very hard in this day of the myspace angle.
Change Clothes and Go
Episode Two
It might seem a bit too 'meeting cute' but the second day of 'Something About Him' I was getting ready to start a new show. One of the things I love about my line of work-reality television-is that every so often I switch shows and end up with a new chance to meet people and for them to meet me. This is exciting because you never know where you'll make a new friend, a new crush, a new mentor--and makes the idea of the first impression a constantly occording event. Which means every so often you have 'first day of school' thoughts and expectations and just like back then you want to put a good foot forward-top to bottom.
Now girls have this issue easy. One of the things about working in telelvision is that everyone-outside of maybe the executives-is pretty casual. This is not a tie and jacket environment unless you want to and most people end up in jeans or stylist pants and t-shirts or polos. But when it comes to the first day most people tend to step it up a notch.
Which is where girls have it easy; all they have to do is throw on a cute skirt, top, and some make-up and there you go and this outfit is usually in pieces that they might end up wearing to work anyways. But I tend to want to put a serious look out there, something somewhat professional looking to make a strong first look. This means pants (not my usual jeans or shorts) and a collared shirt (not a funny t-shirt, polo or crazy top like a cub scout top) with nice shoes (not sneakers, sandals, flip flops or off beat loafers). However this is more just for show than comfort as anyone who knows me knows that I am not very comfortable in 'adult' clothes.
Add to this the fact that I walk everywhere and don't drive and it gets even more messier because I can take anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour to get to a job in the heat and physical activity I can run the risk off looking sloppy. So my first day clotheswise is not very realistic but I do because I feel like I should. So I did and I looked cute and a bit out of place but it makes people notice me in a good way.
But what this also means is that the 2nd day outift is the most imoprtant to seeing the real Rory. The seocnd day's outifit is usually a bit more daring and complicated. And since I have been trying to work on being more daring and confident with myself and my life this particular 2nd Day Outfit was going to be major. I had been searching my closet a lot to see what type of looks I have and what type of looks I want to put out in general. Lax frat boy? Pochonos cutie? Reformed Cub Scout? Angsty punk boy? Sweet and Shy? It's a bit of everything because I'm a bit of everything. It might seem more than a bit shallow but I do believe that very few people look at someone as a possible romance is not because of their wit or smarts when they first meet them. It's clothes. The rest comes later.
The other thing about my dressing up is also how it makes me feel and how it makes others feel about me--if I'm in a cuddly sweater and shorts looking all 'midnight bonfire comfy' is very different than 'all black with club cap and cool shoes looking like I should be in Silverlake' and I tend to take on that vibe of what I'm wearing. My mindset was important for this morning because my first day had left me feeling very down and hectic so going in looking strong and looking cute was important to me.
So after a long debate I picked out the perfect outifit, I won't say which, but I was eager and ready to face the day. I put the top and the accessories in my bag and headed out a bit late that morning on my way to the subway. I was annoyed because I felt like I was running late and it was a sticky feeling morning so I was cranky and on edge.
I barely made it out of my house when the comedy moment happened. As I hit the sidewalk by my neighbors' out back their sprinkers went off. And so I jumped out of the way but right in front of the broken spinker which proceeded to gush water all over me. Just soaked from top to bottom. I got pissed and bitchy and stormed home--it wasn't until I headed back out and past said sprinkers a second time that the humor of the situtation hit and I burst out laughing.
Its always nice to take a moment and realize that I don't need to be serious to make my life good. That laughter should be something I start my day with more. That even though I was a bit of a scrub at work that day--at least thinking of way it happened made me smile. That might be the best thing I can wear wherever I go.
Episode Two
It might seem a bit too 'meeting cute' but the second day of 'Something About Him' I was getting ready to start a new show. One of the things I love about my line of work-reality television-is that every so often I switch shows and end up with a new chance to meet people and for them to meet me. This is exciting because you never know where you'll make a new friend, a new crush, a new mentor--and makes the idea of the first impression a constantly occording event. Which means every so often you have 'first day of school' thoughts and expectations and just like back then you want to put a good foot forward-top to bottom.
Now girls have this issue easy. One of the things about working in telelvision is that everyone-outside of maybe the executives-is pretty casual. This is not a tie and jacket environment unless you want to and most people end up in jeans or stylist pants and t-shirts or polos. But when it comes to the first day most people tend to step it up a notch.
Which is where girls have it easy; all they have to do is throw on a cute skirt, top, and some make-up and there you go and this outfit is usually in pieces that they might end up wearing to work anyways. But I tend to want to put a serious look out there, something somewhat professional looking to make a strong first look. This means pants (not my usual jeans or shorts) and a collared shirt (not a funny t-shirt, polo or crazy top like a cub scout top) with nice shoes (not sneakers, sandals, flip flops or off beat loafers). However this is more just for show than comfort as anyone who knows me knows that I am not very comfortable in 'adult' clothes.
Add to this the fact that I walk everywhere and don't drive and it gets even more messier because I can take anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour to get to a job in the heat and physical activity I can run the risk off looking sloppy. So my first day clotheswise is not very realistic but I do because I feel like I should. So I did and I looked cute and a bit out of place but it makes people notice me in a good way.
But what this also means is that the 2nd day outift is the most imoprtant to seeing the real Rory. The seocnd day's outifit is usually a bit more daring and complicated. And since I have been trying to work on being more daring and confident with myself and my life this particular 2nd Day Outfit was going to be major. I had been searching my closet a lot to see what type of looks I have and what type of looks I want to put out in general. Lax frat boy? Pochonos cutie? Reformed Cub Scout? Angsty punk boy? Sweet and Shy? It's a bit of everything because I'm a bit of everything. It might seem more than a bit shallow but I do believe that very few people look at someone as a possible romance is not because of their wit or smarts when they first meet them. It's clothes. The rest comes later.
The other thing about my dressing up is also how it makes me feel and how it makes others feel about me--if I'm in a cuddly sweater and shorts looking all 'midnight bonfire comfy' is very different than 'all black with club cap and cool shoes looking like I should be in Silverlake' and I tend to take on that vibe of what I'm wearing. My mindset was important for this morning because my first day had left me feeling very down and hectic so going in looking strong and looking cute was important to me.
So after a long debate I picked out the perfect outifit, I won't say which, but I was eager and ready to face the day. I put the top and the accessories in my bag and headed out a bit late that morning on my way to the subway. I was annoyed because I felt like I was running late and it was a sticky feeling morning so I was cranky and on edge.
I barely made it out of my house when the comedy moment happened. As I hit the sidewalk by my neighbors' out back their sprinkers went off. And so I jumped out of the way but right in front of the broken spinker which proceeded to gush water all over me. Just soaked from top to bottom. I got pissed and bitchy and stormed home--it wasn't until I headed back out and past said sprinkers a second time that the humor of the situtation hit and I burst out laughing.
Its always nice to take a moment and realize that I don't need to be serious to make my life good. That laughter should be something I start my day with more. That even though I was a bit of a scrub at work that day--at least thinking of way it happened made me smile. That might be the best thing I can wear wherever I go.
Set the Story in Motion
Episode one.
Tuesday was the first day of my new job—the first day of something new. I have been trying to figure out exactly what type of story I am going for—is it funny or sexy? Does it push the envelope or remind the audience of their own romantic trails and tribulations? I wasn’t sure so I have been trying really hard to imagine what the opening titles would be like.
The opening credits would be a single shot, no cutaways, of me walking through various types of scenarios ala The Spice Girls’ ‘Wannabe’ video. (You can hate the group all you want but that video is pretty damn sweet even with the sound off.) It would totally start with me in pajamas at the computer typing as shot through the window as my phone rings. The camera would follow me through the apartment as I pulled on some jeans and a vintage funny t-shirt (of course) as a grab my backpack and head through the apartment complex.
As I open the gate to head out of the park it would suddenly jump to a visual of me—same outfit—walking through the back lot of a studio on my way to work. It would the lead to various different backgrounds and outfits from the back patio of the Super House during a party to the subway to the streets of Studio City to the various bars (Blue Room or Match or Oil Can Harry’s or Golden Gopher and various others) and would totally end with me up the starts and in the front door of my apartment. The last sequence of the opening would be me shutting the door and then the camera pans back to the same window from the first shot as the light goes off.
But the next big part--at least for me—is the theme song. Am I looking for something catchy like a ‘I’ll Be There for You?’ or is more like more haunting like ‘Sex in The City’ or something more off-beat like ‘The Facts of Life’? The opening just sets the stage for the type of stories that are coming so I had to really think about what I am going for… Charming and silly with pratfalls and farcical elements—whimsical and romantic but also kind of edgy and kitschy. With that in mind I limited myself to a handful of songs that I think fit me rather well.
So then I decided to really look back on the songs that have really fit into places in my life. There’s a string of them that really seem to pop up again and again in my internal soundtrack. ‘Make Your Own Music’ by Mama Cass, ‘You’re So Vain’ by Carly Simon, ‘You Make Me Feel Like Dancing’ by Leo Sayer, ‘Somebody Wants to Love You’ by the Partridge Family, ‘Cherry bomb’ by the Runaways…. Just a handful but each not exactly right—some were too much about relationships in general or too independent for an opening about romance.
My first finalist was ’40 boys in 40 Nights’ by The Donnas. Fast and punk and snarky—kind of a mid finger to the world at large, with no apologies for going after what one wants. But after rolling it around in my head a bit I thought it might be a bit too slutty—I mean I am thinking for this as a romantic romp through Los Angeles and friends and bars and parties and the song seems more like a back alley, sex club, dirty boy theme. Discarded.
Then I thought about ‘I Know What Boys Want’ by The Waitresses. It’s very 80’s and dated but really kind of cute and still subversive—the only problem is that it makes me seem like I would be a bit of a snot and bratty more than self aware and jaded but hopeful. The show is about being coy and clever and clueless all at the same time. Discarded
Then it hit me. James Brown. It’s a lesser known but amazing soul song. One that has played a huge part in my life but not so common that it would feel overplayed like some song can be. The lyrics are ridiculous and empowering and out there but they make me laugh and feel awesome and sexy and ready to do anything. It could totally be my motivation when I’m down. The song? ‘Hot Pants’
One-two One-Two-Three uh!
Hot pants- hey hot pants uh! smokin
Hot pants- smokin that-hot pants
Thats where its at a-thats where its at
Take your fine self home
It looks much better than time
My fever keeps growin
Girl youre blowin my mind
Thinkin of loosin that funky feelin dont uh!
Cause you got to use just what you got
To get just what you want-a
Hey hu!
Hot pants! hey! hot pants smokin!
Hot pants make ya sure of yourself -good Lord
You walk like you got the only lovin left hey
So brother- if youre thinkin of loosin that feelin
Then dont- ha
Cause a woman got to use what she got
To get just what she wants hey!
Hey hotpants
A-look a-hot pants wont make ya dance
But as slick as you are-ah! YOU make the pants
Uh! hey brother- do ya like it?
The girl over there with the funky pants on ha!
She can ah! do the chicken all night long
The girl over there with the hot pants on uh!
She can do the Funky Broadway all night long
The girl over there with the hot pants on
Filthy MacNasty all night long
Get down hu! the one over there
With the mini dress ha!
I aint got time- I still dig that mess
Get down! but I like the hot pants
Hey! I like a hot pants
(Short Instrumental)
Ooooh! Bring it home!
One more! Hit me! Aaay!
Bring it home! Bring it home!
Oh uh! Bring it on home
Bring it on home...
It’s totally my anthem whenever I have to boost myself up in a hurry which makes it the perfect theme song. It is the perfect blend of sex and humor and wit and independence that I would imagine myself to have as a character. And it totally works with the type of visual I would use for a show about me—at least how I would like to see me.
I know that it seems over the top to put so much thought into this but it helps me feel awesome and makes me believe that I can be the star of my own life. Which is exactly what the idea is here—to get me into it!
Episode one.
Tuesday was the first day of my new job—the first day of something new. I have been trying to figure out exactly what type of story I am going for—is it funny or sexy? Does it push the envelope or remind the audience of their own romantic trails and tribulations? I wasn’t sure so I have been trying really hard to imagine what the opening titles would be like.
The opening credits would be a single shot, no cutaways, of me walking through various types of scenarios ala The Spice Girls’ ‘Wannabe’ video. (You can hate the group all you want but that video is pretty damn sweet even with the sound off.) It would totally start with me in pajamas at the computer typing as shot through the window as my phone rings. The camera would follow me through the apartment as I pulled on some jeans and a vintage funny t-shirt (of course) as a grab my backpack and head through the apartment complex.
As I open the gate to head out of the park it would suddenly jump to a visual of me—same outfit—walking through the back lot of a studio on my way to work. It would the lead to various different backgrounds and outfits from the back patio of the Super House during a party to the subway to the streets of Studio City to the various bars (Blue Room or Match or Oil Can Harry’s or Golden Gopher and various others) and would totally end with me up the starts and in the front door of my apartment. The last sequence of the opening would be me shutting the door and then the camera pans back to the same window from the first shot as the light goes off.
But the next big part--at least for me—is the theme song. Am I looking for something catchy like a ‘I’ll Be There for You?’ or is more like more haunting like ‘Sex in The City’ or something more off-beat like ‘The Facts of Life’? The opening just sets the stage for the type of stories that are coming so I had to really think about what I am going for… Charming and silly with pratfalls and farcical elements—whimsical and romantic but also kind of edgy and kitschy. With that in mind I limited myself to a handful of songs that I think fit me rather well.
So then I decided to really look back on the songs that have really fit into places in my life. There’s a string of them that really seem to pop up again and again in my internal soundtrack. ‘Make Your Own Music’ by Mama Cass, ‘You’re So Vain’ by Carly Simon, ‘You Make Me Feel Like Dancing’ by Leo Sayer, ‘Somebody Wants to Love You’ by the Partridge Family, ‘Cherry bomb’ by the Runaways…. Just a handful but each not exactly right—some were too much about relationships in general or too independent for an opening about romance.
My first finalist was ’40 boys in 40 Nights’ by The Donnas. Fast and punk and snarky—kind of a mid finger to the world at large, with no apologies for going after what one wants. But after rolling it around in my head a bit I thought it might be a bit too slutty—I mean I am thinking for this as a romantic romp through Los Angeles and friends and bars and parties and the song seems more like a back alley, sex club, dirty boy theme. Discarded.
Then I thought about ‘I Know What Boys Want’ by The Waitresses. It’s very 80’s and dated but really kind of cute and still subversive—the only problem is that it makes me seem like I would be a bit of a snot and bratty more than self aware and jaded but hopeful. The show is about being coy and clever and clueless all at the same time. Discarded
Then it hit me. James Brown. It’s a lesser known but amazing soul song. One that has played a huge part in my life but not so common that it would feel overplayed like some song can be. The lyrics are ridiculous and empowering and out there but they make me laugh and feel awesome and sexy and ready to do anything. It could totally be my motivation when I’m down. The song? ‘Hot Pants’
One-two One-Two-Three uh!
Hot pants- hey hot pants uh! smokin
Hot pants- smokin that-hot pants
Thats where its at a-thats where its at
Take your fine self home
It looks much better than time
My fever keeps growin
Girl youre blowin my mind
Thinkin of loosin that funky feelin dont uh!
Cause you got to use just what you got
To get just what you want-a
Hey hu!
Hot pants! hey! hot pants smokin!
Hot pants make ya sure of yourself -good Lord
You walk like you got the only lovin left hey
So brother- if youre thinkin of loosin that feelin
Then dont- ha
Cause a woman got to use what she got
To get just what she wants hey!
Hey hotpants
A-look a-hot pants wont make ya dance
But as slick as you are-ah! YOU make the pants
Uh! hey brother- do ya like it?
The girl over there with the funky pants on ha!
She can ah! do the chicken all night long
The girl over there with the hot pants on uh!
She can do the Funky Broadway all night long
The girl over there with the hot pants on
Filthy MacNasty all night long
Get down hu! the one over there
With the mini dress ha!
I aint got time- I still dig that mess
Get down! but I like the hot pants
Hey! I like a hot pants
(Short Instrumental)
Ooooh! Bring it home!
One more! Hit me! Aaay!
Bring it home! Bring it home!
Oh uh! Bring it on home
Bring it on home...
It’s totally my anthem whenever I have to boost myself up in a hurry which makes it the perfect theme song. It is the perfect blend of sex and humor and wit and independence that I would imagine myself to have as a character. And it totally works with the type of visual I would use for a show about me—at least how I would like to see me.
I know that it seems over the top to put so much thought into this but it helps me feel awesome and makes me believe that I can be the star of my own life. Which is exactly what the idea is here—to get me into it!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Being a recluse as it were.
So I have been pretty much away. I guess this is a recurrent theme as of late--every blog starting with some type of apology for my absence. The truth is I haven't wanted to share anything because I have been trying to stay closed off. Being a recluse as it were.
I've been frustrated with everything in my life. From feeling like I am losing my friends (whether to life changes or actual new locations), to feeling awkward and unwanted (I mean, nothing of any real importance relationship-wise has happened since the ex and I broke up), to feeling creatively stifled between my jobs and my art(And being back at BB was very hard thing to do--much harder when it feels like it did nothing for the long haul), from being afraid that I would be losing my apartment (from Kaylie moving as well as Edie and Bradley and where they might go next in their relationship) and just an overall feeling of failure (even though I constantly feel like I try so hard.)
So instead of trying to get over things I let myself wallow in them. I either ignored people by not being responsive to them at all when they contacted me or purposely I did nothing but wait for my 'friends' to make the first move and when they didn't I could pretend to be right about how they weren't my friends anyways.
I let myself be beat down by the job instead of stepping up and being the best at it. I let rumor and innuendo get the best of me as opposed to just putting it in it's place. And instead of going after what I wanted I tried to sit around and act like it would come to me. I was angry and spoiled and miserable at the same time.
And I have known all this for awhile. I knew it was bad form, that I am better than second place and yet I didn't want to try and get out from under it. I set the bar so low for everything then bitched that the bar was so long to begin with. I'm tired of being a lazy boring whiny bitch and figure the best way to get over it was to put it out there
I have forgotten that I have to do stuff to make stuff happen. Lets see if I can get right back on that.
In about a month or so.
So I have been pretty much away. I guess this is a recurrent theme as of late--every blog starting with some type of apology for my absence. The truth is I haven't wanted to share anything because I have been trying to stay closed off. Being a recluse as it were.
I've been frustrated with everything in my life. From feeling like I am losing my friends (whether to life changes or actual new locations), to feeling awkward and unwanted (I mean, nothing of any real importance relationship-wise has happened since the ex and I broke up), to feeling creatively stifled between my jobs and my art(And being back at BB was very hard thing to do--much harder when it feels like it did nothing for the long haul), from being afraid that I would be losing my apartment (from Kaylie moving as well as Edie and Bradley and where they might go next in their relationship) and just an overall feeling of failure (even though I constantly feel like I try so hard.)
So instead of trying to get over things I let myself wallow in them. I either ignored people by not being responsive to them at all when they contacted me or purposely I did nothing but wait for my 'friends' to make the first move and when they didn't I could pretend to be right about how they weren't my friends anyways.
I let myself be beat down by the job instead of stepping up and being the best at it. I let rumor and innuendo get the best of me as opposed to just putting it in it's place. And instead of going after what I wanted I tried to sit around and act like it would come to me. I was angry and spoiled and miserable at the same time.
And I have known all this for awhile. I knew it was bad form, that I am better than second place and yet I didn't want to try and get out from under it. I set the bar so low for everything then bitched that the bar was so long to begin with. I'm tired of being a lazy boring whiny bitch and figure the best way to get over it was to put it out there
I have forgotten that I have to do stuff to make stuff happen. Lets see if I can get right back on that.
In about a month or so.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Just In Case
This blog has fallen upon hard times.... This is mostly due to the suckiness of the new google/blogspot format which leads to me not being able to really post that well from home. I have tried fixing in and playing with iot but alas there seems to be no long term fix.
But I am still blogging...on myspace as well as a few other places. But what this page is good for is a link to all the things I am into on the net. I still up date those so feel free to look at my gossip sites of fav stores or friends blogs.
And I'll try to post more here.
This blog has fallen upon hard times.... This is mostly due to the suckiness of the new google/blogspot format which leads to me not being able to really post that well from home. I have tried fixing in and playing with iot but alas there seems to be no long term fix.
But I am still blogging...on myspace as well as a few other places. But what this page is good for is a link to all the things I am into on the net. I still up date those so feel free to look at my gossip sites of fav stores or friends blogs.
And I'll try to post more here.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
A Little Fall of Rain
So I finally saw Samuel again this past Friday. It's weird--it wasn't something I was looking forward to but like housewrok and bills and calling your parents it felt like something that I should do. If we were going to continue to work on being friends then I did need to see him or let it go.
I know that to anyone who has read my blog knows my views on Samuel change easily from time to time. I'm fine, I'm not, I'm sad, I'm angry, I'm glad... I guess it's because how much of the current 'us' is a work in progress with many steps and missteps to be had.
I saw him at the BR in Burbank with some friends. We had a weird beat where he was hugging people and didn't know if he should hug me. I let him even though I wasn't sure it was what I wanted but it was what the moment called for. It felt strange to have him back around, laughing and talking and just being himself while everything else felt different for me.
But I think it also allowed me to make peace with it all. I mean--sure there was a couple of awkward moments and most of the friends with us didn't allow for us to be alone whether they meant to or not but it was for the most part fine. I think I know what I want out of all this. And if that's all I got than it's enough.
But the rest of night and what it stirred up is best left for me and me alone. I wonder if he has any thoughts about it all. I also wonder if I should know what those are
So I finally saw Samuel again this past Friday. It's weird--it wasn't something I was looking forward to but like housewrok and bills and calling your parents it felt like something that I should do. If we were going to continue to work on being friends then I did need to see him or let it go.
I know that to anyone who has read my blog knows my views on Samuel change easily from time to time. I'm fine, I'm not, I'm sad, I'm angry, I'm glad... I guess it's because how much of the current 'us' is a work in progress with many steps and missteps to be had.
I saw him at the BR in Burbank with some friends. We had a weird beat where he was hugging people and didn't know if he should hug me. I let him even though I wasn't sure it was what I wanted but it was what the moment called for. It felt strange to have him back around, laughing and talking and just being himself while everything else felt different for me.
But I think it also allowed me to make peace with it all. I mean--sure there was a couple of awkward moments and most of the friends with us didn't allow for us to be alone whether they meant to or not but it was for the most part fine. I think I know what I want out of all this. And if that's all I got than it's enough.
But the rest of night and what it stirred up is best left for me and me alone. I wonder if he has any thoughts about it all. I also wonder if I should know what those are
The Happys
Things that make me happy have been happening a lot as of late and to celebrate--here's a list...
-Movies with Audrey Hepburn but especially ones that are tragic and romantic at the same time.
-Dressers, dressers, dressers...
-Late night swims where I sneak into the pool after 'curfew' and stare up at the stars for hours
-for friends that go beyond the call of duty and don't lisent when I tell them not to do that anymore
-Virgin Airs cheap tickets!!!
-Old science ficition books that I have rediscovered and rereading.
-The five minutes in yoga where it because all zen-like.
-My mom's refusal to stop sending me Curious George items. It's vaguely cute!
-Cocktail attire!
Things that make me happy have been happening a lot as of late and to celebrate--here's a list...
-Movies with Audrey Hepburn but especially ones that are tragic and romantic at the same time.
-Dressers, dressers, dressers...
-Late night swims where I sneak into the pool after 'curfew' and stare up at the stars for hours
-for friends that go beyond the call of duty and don't lisent when I tell them not to do that anymore
-Virgin Airs cheap tickets!!!
-Old science ficition books that I have rediscovered and rereading.
-The five minutes in yoga where it because all zen-like.
-My mom's refusal to stop sending me Curious George items. It's vaguely cute!
-Cocktail attire!
Sometimes a Sweater is Just a Sweater.
So I bought an ugly sweater yesterday. Was there any hidden meaning to this? Possibly. It could be about how I could be using shopping to get over depression. It could be about how vain I am to think that I could take something possibly tacky and make it cute. It could be about how the sweater remains me of something from my past—a piece of art—that ties me back into a sweeter time.
Or maybe it means nothing more than I am just doing things to do them-no meaning, no rhyme, no reason. That everything has been all twisted up as of late and that they won't be getting better any time sooner. But that's too dark and twisty—even for me.
Though I wouldn't blame you if you thought that way. That with my current series of blogs, my conversations, my state of mind it would be amiss for me to think that you couldn't mistake me for being a bit depressed or off or whatever word you choose to fill in with. But I'm also sure it's not that simple.
I spent my day today looking at bridal gowns with friends. I had coffee and joked and snuck photos and texted. I made dinner conversation, read Thomas Guides, e-mailed jobs and just pushed through my day. If you spent time with me you might have felt a little melancholy but not too over the top. It's just here where my words live that you feel this about me.
Its funny how much weight that can be placed on a blog. That somehow a blog becomes a permenate record of how you feel. That every emotion, observation and statement placed down can be perceived as the final word. That if the wrong person reads it, or it is put up at the wrong time or with the wrong viewpoint it can suddenly be seen as cannon for how you view the world.
I've never bought into that idea. If I believed everything written by the people I read I would think they were shallow or crazy or silly or mean or desperate or insensitive or just plain boring. That people really think in lists or surveys—that you tube is a secret window into a psyche or that itunes can really be the key to a personality.
Instead I view a blog as a small window into a moment of time, a stream of thought. And that being allowed to share in that insight—however casual or small or disjointed—is something to be grateful for. That even when it is something I don't agree with or understand or want to hear; by my choosing to go and read it I make a contract with the other parties involved to be respectful.
And not only that, but that it is not something to hold against someone, that it's not that they are writing things as a way to hurt people or been aggressive or to be judge. That they are just sharing something simple that could be simply different the next day. That how they feel when they are alone with their words doesn't mean this is how they feel as they make their way through the day to day of living. That reading too much into spare moments on-line or stream of thought doesn't really accomplish much at all.
So if I write about buying an ugly sweater it doesn't mean anything more than if I write about being disappointed in a person. That if I talk about Sargent Beverly doesn't mean I'm into crack whores or that a review of how I hated 'Little Women' doesn't mean I'm beating down your favorite book. It's just sharing an insight—a thought from a random day or place or of a person or a time.
Sometimes a sweater is just a sweater. And tomorrow it might not even be an ugly sweater.
So I bought an ugly sweater yesterday. Was there any hidden meaning to this? Possibly. It could be about how I could be using shopping to get over depression. It could be about how vain I am to think that I could take something possibly tacky and make it cute. It could be about how the sweater remains me of something from my past—a piece of art—that ties me back into a sweeter time.
Or maybe it means nothing more than I am just doing things to do them-no meaning, no rhyme, no reason. That everything has been all twisted up as of late and that they won't be getting better any time sooner. But that's too dark and twisty—even for me.
Though I wouldn't blame you if you thought that way. That with my current series of blogs, my conversations, my state of mind it would be amiss for me to think that you couldn't mistake me for being a bit depressed or off or whatever word you choose to fill in with. But I'm also sure it's not that simple.
I spent my day today looking at bridal gowns with friends. I had coffee and joked and snuck photos and texted. I made dinner conversation, read Thomas Guides, e-mailed jobs and just pushed through my day. If you spent time with me you might have felt a little melancholy but not too over the top. It's just here where my words live that you feel this about me.
Its funny how much weight that can be placed on a blog. That somehow a blog becomes a permenate record of how you feel. That every emotion, observation and statement placed down can be perceived as the final word. That if the wrong person reads it, or it is put up at the wrong time or with the wrong viewpoint it can suddenly be seen as cannon for how you view the world.
I've never bought into that idea. If I believed everything written by the people I read I would think they were shallow or crazy or silly or mean or desperate or insensitive or just plain boring. That people really think in lists or surveys—that you tube is a secret window into a psyche or that itunes can really be the key to a personality.
Instead I view a blog as a small window into a moment of time, a stream of thought. And that being allowed to share in that insight—however casual or small or disjointed—is something to be grateful for. That even when it is something I don't agree with or understand or want to hear; by my choosing to go and read it I make a contract with the other parties involved to be respectful.
And not only that, but that it is not something to hold against someone, that it's not that they are writing things as a way to hurt people or been aggressive or to be judge. That they are just sharing something simple that could be simply different the next day. That how they feel when they are alone with their words doesn't mean this is how they feel as they make their way through the day to day of living. That reading too much into spare moments on-line or stream of thought doesn't really accomplish much at all.
So if I write about buying an ugly sweater it doesn't mean anything more than if I write about being disappointed in a person. That if I talk about Sargent Beverly doesn't mean I'm into crack whores or that a review of how I hated 'Little Women' doesn't mean I'm beating down your favorite book. It's just sharing an insight—a thought from a random day or place or of a person or a time.
Sometimes a sweater is just a sweater. And tomorrow it might not even be an ugly sweater.
The Worst Three Hours Ever
I know I haven't blogged in a while--mostly because being unemployed makes you feel like you have the time to do more and yet somehow less gets accomplished at the same time. That being said--Ihad something happen yeseterday that makes me take to my words.
Yesterday was one of those days when I felt like I was hit three times in a row and for no really reason. Just take a hit and walk it off.
I finally got the call for certain about plans for Big Medicine 2. I had already been in discusses about the show and wasn't sure what was going to happen. Basically it was decided by a combination of things that they were going to head in a new direction per TLC and so they needed sopme different staff. And while I was surprised I was being asked back in the same job--they were willing to offer a similiar idea and I was hope to it because I adore the new team. What I wasn't expecting was to be told if I came back it would be what breaks dopwn to a serious demotion in the finiancial sense. And they felt bad and said I shouldn't come back for what was being offered. I was upset because I worked my ass of for that show and felt like I was being tyhrow away. I know Nolan would not be surprised by this but I was.
Afterwards I called my mother because it was her birthday. She was a bit cranky and snapped at me. I asked what was going on and I found out that a dear family friend of ours finally passed away the night before from his end stage cancer. This hit me extremely hard--Ralph Grossi was honestly one of the most amazing people I have ever known.
I have met a lot of 'artist' and 'art lovers' but no one quite like Raplh. He was one of those people who was so into film (not movies) and not in the usual LA way of 'who's in, who directed it, is it super cool, is it artsy?'. He loved film--alll film--with a joy that was always amazing. He would watch anything, enjoyed everything and always loved the magic of a story. He was someone he loved it simply and fully--someone who played a huge part in my life when it came time to chose to try and be a creative person. He always made me promise to love what I do--because the love of a story is the most important part. And I will always remember how he excited he became whenever we talked about films. Just a joy and a light that while I know he's better off--it still breaks my heart.
Finally--in a daze after both these moments--I went to the story to get some wine and dinner. I was on edge and then I ran into Fernando. Fernando is my first LA ex, the one that I learned a lot about myself form dating, someone who did things I have never quite forgiven and not since in three years or so. I had just found out that he had married Rory 2.0 (As our friends from the relationship dubbed him) so I was in shock to walk straight into him and his husband as I was picking wines. We didn't say anything and just had an odd moment of silence then his husband wandered up and kissed him and I was just like 'OH MY GOD.' (One because Carl does look like me and two because EVERYONE is in a serious rel;ationship but me.)
It just felt like everything was fucked with in the course of three hours--you not that good at your job, someone who once upon a time saved your life has passed on and everyone included the guy who never wanted to get married but is now married so it might just be you--all happened and well lets just say I had a bit of a Brittney Spears moment. Though no children were hurt.
I'm ready for this to be over
I know I haven't blogged in a while--mostly because being unemployed makes you feel like you have the time to do more and yet somehow less gets accomplished at the same time. That being said--Ihad something happen yeseterday that makes me take to my words.
Yesterday was one of those days when I felt like I was hit three times in a row and for no really reason. Just take a hit and walk it off.
I finally got the call for certain about plans for Big Medicine 2. I had already been in discusses about the show and wasn't sure what was going to happen. Basically it was decided by a combination of things that they were going to head in a new direction per TLC and so they needed sopme different staff. And while I was surprised I was being asked back in the same job--they were willing to offer a similiar idea and I was hope to it because I adore the new team. What I wasn't expecting was to be told if I came back it would be what breaks dopwn to a serious demotion in the finiancial sense. And they felt bad and said I shouldn't come back for what was being offered. I was upset because I worked my ass of for that show and felt like I was being tyhrow away. I know Nolan would not be surprised by this but I was.
Afterwards I called my mother because it was her birthday. She was a bit cranky and snapped at me. I asked what was going on and I found out that a dear family friend of ours finally passed away the night before from his end stage cancer. This hit me extremely hard--Ralph Grossi was honestly one of the most amazing people I have ever known.
I have met a lot of 'artist' and 'art lovers' but no one quite like Raplh. He was one of those people who was so into film (not movies) and not in the usual LA way of 'who's in, who directed it, is it super cool, is it artsy?'. He loved film--alll film--with a joy that was always amazing. He would watch anything, enjoyed everything and always loved the magic of a story. He was someone he loved it simply and fully--someone who played a huge part in my life when it came time to chose to try and be a creative person. He always made me promise to love what I do--because the love of a story is the most important part. And I will always remember how he excited he became whenever we talked about films. Just a joy and a light that while I know he's better off--it still breaks my heart.
Finally--in a daze after both these moments--I went to the story to get some wine and dinner. I was on edge and then I ran into Fernando. Fernando is my first LA ex, the one that I learned a lot about myself form dating, someone who did things I have never quite forgiven and not since in three years or so. I had just found out that he had married Rory 2.0 (As our friends from the relationship dubbed him) so I was in shock to walk straight into him and his husband as I was picking wines. We didn't say anything and just had an odd moment of silence then his husband wandered up and kissed him and I was just like 'OH MY GOD.' (One because Carl does look like me and two because EVERYONE is in a serious rel;ationship but me.)
It just felt like everything was fucked with in the course of three hours--you not that good at your job, someone who once upon a time saved your life has passed on and everyone included the guy who never wanted to get married but is now married so it might just be you--all happened and well lets just say I had a bit of a Brittney Spears moment. Though no children were hurt.
I'm ready for this to be over
Run, Run, Run Otis Lee
Run, Run, Run, Otis Lee
I finally pulled myself together and hit the streets of Studio City for a late night run. I hadn't done this since I came back from San Francisco for a million easy excuses but I fginally ran out of those and hit the ground with my feet rather than my mouth.
It's been a bit weird the last few weeks--obviously I have been working through some things but mostly I have been working thorugh myself. There's been some vicodine, some sadness, some honesty and some solutions but none of this felt real until I finally took in the night sky up and down Moorpark.
That its okay for Naomi to have gone to Las Vegas to live--that she'll be fine and I'll be fine and we'll miss the fuck out of each other but that's not an end. If anything its a free place to stay and a better reason to stay longer.
That addressing things with Samuel was important and needed and allows me quite a bit more clarity. That being blunt with Rocco made things better and he totally got where I had been coming from with all the push and pull. That I don't need Nolan's permission to do what I want in regards to BM2. I can do what I want the best way I can and that's all.
That I'm happy I spent the money on the recent upkeep of things. That if I can't really take care of myself than how can I take care of anyone else? I mean-there's a line between reckless and stupid and its time to stop straddling it and make the choice. There's really only one.
I'm not really sure why the movement gives me clarity but I'm gonna go with till the feet are stumps and there's nothing left to push with. Why fight forward movement?
Run, Run, Run, Otis Lee
I finally pulled myself together and hit the streets of Studio City for a late night run. I hadn't done this since I came back from San Francisco for a million easy excuses but I fginally ran out of those and hit the ground with my feet rather than my mouth.
It's been a bit weird the last few weeks--obviously I have been working through some things but mostly I have been working thorugh myself. There's been some vicodine, some sadness, some honesty and some solutions but none of this felt real until I finally took in the night sky up and down Moorpark.
That its okay for Naomi to have gone to Las Vegas to live--that she'll be fine and I'll be fine and we'll miss the fuck out of each other but that's not an end. If anything its a free place to stay and a better reason to stay longer.
That addressing things with Samuel was important and needed and allows me quite a bit more clarity. That being blunt with Rocco made things better and he totally got where I had been coming from with all the push and pull. That I don't need Nolan's permission to do what I want in regards to BM2. I can do what I want the best way I can and that's all.
That I'm happy I spent the money on the recent upkeep of things. That if I can't really take care of myself than how can I take care of anyone else? I mean-there's a line between reckless and stupid and its time to stop straddling it and make the choice. There's really only one.
I'm not really sure why the movement gives me clarity but I'm gonna go with till the feet are stumps and there's nothing left to push with. Why fight forward movement?
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Flipping Coins
In the last few days I have grown somewhat disappointed with handful of people in my life. I don't know if I am being fair but expected much better from this handful than I have been given and I don't know what I should do. Or rather-if I want to do what I should do... It just makes me sad to think about and it's enough to make me rethink certain relationships.
But on the other hand-as I was running last night-I forced myself to try and think about all the happy things about the people I know. To try and feel inspired rather than upset by them--to find something good rather than something sad. About how people are changing their lives to try by being brave and open and honest and driven. How there are good people in my life who deserve my respect and admiration.
The others aren't worth my time.
In the last few days I have grown somewhat disappointed with handful of people in my life. I don't know if I am being fair but expected much better from this handful than I have been given and I don't know what I should do. Or rather-if I want to do what I should do... It just makes me sad to think about and it's enough to make me rethink certain relationships.
But on the other hand-as I was running last night-I forced myself to try and think about all the happy things about the people I know. To try and feel inspired rather than upset by them--to find something good rather than something sad. About how people are changing their lives to try by being brave and open and honest and driven. How there are good people in my life who deserve my respect and admiration.
The others aren't worth my time.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Ding Dong
Mrs. Garrett has given us a move out date. She has a new apartment. She is moving out when I am going to be visiting two of my nearest and dearest in San Francisco. When both I and Edie (back from filming) return to our house she will be gone.
It's so amazing how relaxed all of this makes me. that she is moving out. That someone I like is moving in. That there will be no awkward good byes. She'll just be gone.
If anything will make me believe in a high power--this might be it!
(Party to come soon!)
Mrs. Garrett has given us a move out date. She has a new apartment. She is moving out when I am going to be visiting two of my nearest and dearest in San Francisco. When both I and Edie (back from filming) return to our house she will be gone.
It's so amazing how relaxed all of this makes me. that she is moving out. That someone I like is moving in. That there will be no awkward good byes. She'll just be gone.
If anything will make me believe in a high power--this might be it!
(Party to come soon!)
Monday, July 09, 2007
How My Weekend Started
Four brothers arrested in North Hollywood robbery spree
Article Last Updated: 07/09/2007 10:29:55 AM PDT
NORTH HOLLYWOOD - Four brothers were in custody today in connection with a robbery spree in which the suspects allegedly used a replica handgun, baseball bats, and a knife to stick up their victims and steal cellphones and jewelry, police said.
Police said the incidents began just before 11 p.m. Friday when police responded to an assault with a deadly weapon and several armed robbery calls in the North Hollywood area. Officers spotted the suspects' vehicle before taking them into custody without incident, police said.
One victim of an assault told police he was high on drugs when several males confronted him before he blacked out, police said. He later woke up at a hospital with facial injuries, unaware of how he got there, police said.
Jose Alberto Garcia, a 25-year-old construction worker from Reseda, and Jose Cruz Ibarra, 22, from Reseda were arrested in the 7300 block of Laurel Canyon Boulevard in North Hollywood. Juan Carlos Gonzalez, a 27-year-old home child care worker, also from Reseda was arrested about a block away on Sherman Way. Manuel Antonio Ibarra, a 20-year-old cashier, from Huntington Park, was arrested in the 4200 block of Valerio Street, also nearby, police said.
The suspects were booked Saturday into the Los Angeles County Jail on suspicion of second degree robbery, the detective said. Bail was set at $100,000 for each.
In addition to recovering victim's cellphones, jewelry, and other property, police seized a replica Glock handgun, two baseball bats, and a knife, all believed to have been used in the crime spree, police said.
LAPD Detective Joe Esquivel identified the suspects as brothers and said detectives were looking into whether the men were involved in other heists.
For up-to-date news and observations on crime in Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley, check out the Daily News' crime blog by clicking here.
Four brothers arrested in North Hollywood robbery spree
Article Last Updated: 07/09/2007 10:29:55 AM PDT
NORTH HOLLYWOOD - Four brothers were in custody today in connection with a robbery spree in which the suspects allegedly used a replica handgun, baseball bats, and a knife to stick up their victims and steal cellphones and jewelry, police said.
Police said the incidents began just before 11 p.m. Friday when police responded to an assault with a deadly weapon and several armed robbery calls in the North Hollywood area. Officers spotted the suspects' vehicle before taking them into custody without incident, police said.
One victim of an assault told police he was high on drugs when several males confronted him before he blacked out, police said. He later woke up at a hospital with facial injuries, unaware of how he got there, police said.
Jose Alberto Garcia, a 25-year-old construction worker from Reseda, and Jose Cruz Ibarra, 22, from Reseda were arrested in the 7300 block of Laurel Canyon Boulevard in North Hollywood. Juan Carlos Gonzalez, a 27-year-old home child care worker, also from Reseda was arrested about a block away on Sherman Way. Manuel Antonio Ibarra, a 20-year-old cashier, from Huntington Park, was arrested in the 4200 block of Valerio Street, also nearby, police said.
The suspects were booked Saturday into the Los Angeles County Jail on suspicion of second degree robbery, the detective said. Bail was set at $100,000 for each.
In addition to recovering victim's cellphones, jewelry, and other property, police seized a replica Glock handgun, two baseball bats, and a knife, all believed to have been used in the crime spree, police said.
LAPD Detective Joe Esquivel identified the suspects as brothers and said detectives were looking into whether the men were involved in other heists.
For up-to-date news and observations on crime in Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley, check out the Daily News' crime blog by clicking here.
Guns! Gossip! Gumshoes!
So I was mugged this past Friday. I’m not sure there is anymore dramatic build up needed than to say I was held up at gun point while walking to meet the gang at a neighborhood bar. But since the devil is in the details I’m gonna give my due.
If I was to ever believe in karma than this might be the one time to really get into that philosophy. I was walking down to Residuals on Vineland to meet up with a handful of people for drinks—what’s ironic is that I pushed to meet at this bar since it was close so I could walk. Kaylee had started the e-mails and Lola pushed for the place but I made my feelings known on the subject.
So when Kaylee texted me she was not coming out I was a bit disappointed. That and I had something I REALLY wanted to discuss with her and didn’t want to wait. So when I got home from work I made a quick meal, took a shower, sent a text that I was on my way and decided to call Miss Kaylee on the way.
Now I won’t get into what I was discussing with her but it was actually not very nice but something rather dramatic that had just happened and I want to be able to fully relish the moment. It is not something I am proud of and certain people would be hurt if they knew what I was discussing which is where karma comes in.
I was almost at the corner of Vineland and Ventura—basically across from the bar when three young Hispanic guys walked toward me. Now this is not abnormal in my neighborhood—people tend to walk around all the time from the stores and coffee shops or over to the subway. I saw them and they saw me—and as I came closer they spread out to let me pass as I continued on the phone.
It wasn’t until they got right on top of me that everything changed. One of the three stepped directly in front of me and demanded my phone, one stood to my right with a gun pulled out and crouched down. I couldn’t tell much about the gun but it did look like a glock—similar to the type my dad had as a cop. The third guy stood behind me and pulled one arm behind and with his other hand pulled out my wallet and searched my other pockets.
What’s funny is that I didn’t panic at all—I was kind of dumbfounded because of where we were—how light out it was, the fact that were obvious cameras on the pole around us. I was so taken back that I didn’t even say anything to Kaylee—who was still talking on the phone the whole time—instead I just went with it. The guy behind me made me open my hands and gave me back my keys while the one in front of yelled about locking at them.
This is the only stupid thing I did at the time—as he kept yelling at me and they started off I did yell at them. I called them stupid fucks, that there were cameras around and they weren’t gonna get jack shit from me. The one with the gun was so startled he stopped and turned back to me but the other two grabbed him by the arms and pulled him away. I quickly crossed the street and into the security booth of the apartment complex there and told them they might want to call the cops.
There is nothing worse than dealing with the cops in the aftermath of a crime. Besides they fact that the 911 operator was rude I then got to wait for about 20 minutes until the cops showed up. I had to reenact the crime several times and felt myself getting worked up because all I wanted to do was go and see my friends. The cops were nice but not very comforting when one of them revealed I was the third person to be ‘hit’ in the last two hours. Which made me madder since the crimes were in all the same area and by the same guys but what could I do? The younger officer (Officer Ricky) offered to take me home but I said no.
Both cops were a bit thrown that I still planned to head off to the bar but I didn’t know what to do. Officer Ricky offered to help me call my friends but I realized that I didn’t know any of their numbers—they were all in my cell phone. Instead I suggested they should go and try and catch the guys. I then headed off to the bar.
It wasn’t until I was outside the bar that I realized that I didn’t have any ID and there was no way they were going to let me in the bar. I debated what to do but I didn’t want to walk back home past where I was just mugged and the guys still at large. I flirted with the idea of trying to get the doorman to find my friends but it was crowded outside and lots of skinny loud girls around him and I just couldn’t handle explaining myself to a stranger. So I figured that there were three smokers in the group and that eventually they would come out.
I waited about an hour before I gave up hanging around the parking lot and decided I needed to head home, get my passport and come back. It was scary walking but where the mugging happened; I was more angry though. I wanted to see the bastards again. I wanted to beat the shit out of them. I carried a brick the whole walk home.
It wasn’t until I got home that what happened fully hit. I turned on my computer to get the phone number list I keep on my desktop but picked up the phone to see if I could even remember a number. I realized that I had programmed a handful of numbers in the phone and while most were out of date—Kirby’s wasn’t.
Without even thinking about it I called her. She was at a party and I tried to get off the phone because she was having fun but instead I just started to cry. And I was mad about that but I needed someone and she was the first one I stumbled across. Of course she offered to come and meet up with me. She’s such a good friend.
I met her outside my building because I knew I had to force myself to be outside and feel safe. I brought my passport, we went to 711 where I got cigarettes and soda, and she hugged me a lot. I needed it. She was the one who pointed out we should go to the bar and while it was hard—I’m glad I did. I needed to be around my friends. I needed a drink. I needed to feel like things were normal. For that I was extremely grateful.
Later that night, I was a bit worried about the fact they had my address but decided to read the returning of my keys as a sign they weren’t interested in robbing my apartment. I canceled my bank card and made a list of things lost—my license, my phone, my social security card, my 6 Flags season pass. Stuff to deal with later.
It was at 3am when the phone rang and I knew I had to answer it. Kirby figured out how to change my cell phone message and I had made mention of my phone being stolen and to call my home number so I figured it could someone freaked out. It was the police telling me they had made an arrest and recovered my phone which was awesome and that I would get it at some point in the future. But no sign of my wallet.
I spent the next few days doing the weird bits and pieces of clean you have to do after something like this. I called my mom because I didn’t want have her stumble across the news before I could break it to her. I went and searched the neighborhood where I was robbed to see if they tossed my wallet. I researched on-line how to get a new license, a new social security card, whether they had used my bank card.
I still went out and did things—sometimes normal is the only thing you have at times—I saw Lucy in Hollywood. I talked with Mrs. Garrett about her apartment hunt. I sent out a thank you card to Kirby. I called Kaylee to let her know what happened. I paid bills.
Saturday Officer Ricky called to see if I was okay. He said he was worried because I was so calm if short with him the night before. I told him that I realized that what happened was so odd—the bold way they robbed me. The fact they were on a crime spree with no plans of stopping. The fact that I lived in the neighborhood and nothing like this EVER came close to happening before. That it wasn’t like I had done anything risky, I was aware of them and my surroundings. It wasn’t normal. It was dumb luck.
The truth is—this is not the first time I have been mugged. The first time was in Boston and I did stupid things that lead to that. I was more in danger then and I somehow knew that at the time. I was going to be fine. I had no choice but to be fine or else I was going to have some serious issues if I couldn’t walk outside without being afraid. Which Officer Ricky seemed to get and he promised to talk to me soon.
This is more irony because the next day I woke up to a knock at my door. I dragged my hung-over self (the stress led to more smoking and drinking) to the door and there he stood smiling and asking to come in. I figured he had my phone and knew I was being rude so I took into the kitchen. He said that something really lucky had happened while he was at lunch—and then he handed me my license.
Turns out he and his partner Officer Hofstra were at lunch nearby and while smoking in the parking lot he stumbled across my license on the end of the dumpster at the resteraunt. Just weird and he was surprised because he couldn’t believe it was mine and he headed over to hand off personally. I was so surprised that he thought I didn’t want my ID back but I went to the bathroom—threw some water on my face—and headed back to kitchen where he waited. I thanked him and he told me I was lucky.
Truth is—he’s right. I was very lucky. I was okay, they were caught, things came back to me and everyone did the right thing at the end of the day. I guess I am still a bit thrown but I am also lucky. So maybe the back half of this was karma. Not the first part.
(PS Before anyone asks again—Officer Ricky was quite cute and nice. He did seem concerned. He will be calling again about my phone. I have no interest because I am not a badge bunny. And it smack to much of needing a hero to save me.)
So I was mugged this past Friday. I’m not sure there is anymore dramatic build up needed than to say I was held up at gun point while walking to meet the gang at a neighborhood bar. But since the devil is in the details I’m gonna give my due.
If I was to ever believe in karma than this might be the one time to really get into that philosophy. I was walking down to Residuals on Vineland to meet up with a handful of people for drinks—what’s ironic is that I pushed to meet at this bar since it was close so I could walk. Kaylee had started the e-mails and Lola pushed for the place but I made my feelings known on the subject.
So when Kaylee texted me she was not coming out I was a bit disappointed. That and I had something I REALLY wanted to discuss with her and didn’t want to wait. So when I got home from work I made a quick meal, took a shower, sent a text that I was on my way and decided to call Miss Kaylee on the way.
Now I won’t get into what I was discussing with her but it was actually not very nice but something rather dramatic that had just happened and I want to be able to fully relish the moment. It is not something I am proud of and certain people would be hurt if they knew what I was discussing which is where karma comes in.
I was almost at the corner of Vineland and Ventura—basically across from the bar when three young Hispanic guys walked toward me. Now this is not abnormal in my neighborhood—people tend to walk around all the time from the stores and coffee shops or over to the subway. I saw them and they saw me—and as I came closer they spread out to let me pass as I continued on the phone.
It wasn’t until they got right on top of me that everything changed. One of the three stepped directly in front of me and demanded my phone, one stood to my right with a gun pulled out and crouched down. I couldn’t tell much about the gun but it did look like a glock—similar to the type my dad had as a cop. The third guy stood behind me and pulled one arm behind and with his other hand pulled out my wallet and searched my other pockets.
What’s funny is that I didn’t panic at all—I was kind of dumbfounded because of where we were—how light out it was, the fact that were obvious cameras on the pole around us. I was so taken back that I didn’t even say anything to Kaylee—who was still talking on the phone the whole time—instead I just went with it. The guy behind me made me open my hands and gave me back my keys while the one in front of yelled about locking at them.
This is the only stupid thing I did at the time—as he kept yelling at me and they started off I did yell at them. I called them stupid fucks, that there were cameras around and they weren’t gonna get jack shit from me. The one with the gun was so startled he stopped and turned back to me but the other two grabbed him by the arms and pulled him away. I quickly crossed the street and into the security booth of the apartment complex there and told them they might want to call the cops.
There is nothing worse than dealing with the cops in the aftermath of a crime. Besides they fact that the 911 operator was rude I then got to wait for about 20 minutes until the cops showed up. I had to reenact the crime several times and felt myself getting worked up because all I wanted to do was go and see my friends. The cops were nice but not very comforting when one of them revealed I was the third person to be ‘hit’ in the last two hours. Which made me madder since the crimes were in all the same area and by the same guys but what could I do? The younger officer (Officer Ricky) offered to take me home but I said no.
Both cops were a bit thrown that I still planned to head off to the bar but I didn’t know what to do. Officer Ricky offered to help me call my friends but I realized that I didn’t know any of their numbers—they were all in my cell phone. Instead I suggested they should go and try and catch the guys. I then headed off to the bar.
It wasn’t until I was outside the bar that I realized that I didn’t have any ID and there was no way they were going to let me in the bar. I debated what to do but I didn’t want to walk back home past where I was just mugged and the guys still at large. I flirted with the idea of trying to get the doorman to find my friends but it was crowded outside and lots of skinny loud girls around him and I just couldn’t handle explaining myself to a stranger. So I figured that there were three smokers in the group and that eventually they would come out.
I waited about an hour before I gave up hanging around the parking lot and decided I needed to head home, get my passport and come back. It was scary walking but where the mugging happened; I was more angry though. I wanted to see the bastards again. I wanted to beat the shit out of them. I carried a brick the whole walk home.
It wasn’t until I got home that what happened fully hit. I turned on my computer to get the phone number list I keep on my desktop but picked up the phone to see if I could even remember a number. I realized that I had programmed a handful of numbers in the phone and while most were out of date—Kirby’s wasn’t.
Without even thinking about it I called her. She was at a party and I tried to get off the phone because she was having fun but instead I just started to cry. And I was mad about that but I needed someone and she was the first one I stumbled across. Of course she offered to come and meet up with me. She’s such a good friend.
I met her outside my building because I knew I had to force myself to be outside and feel safe. I brought my passport, we went to 711 where I got cigarettes and soda, and she hugged me a lot. I needed it. She was the one who pointed out we should go to the bar and while it was hard—I’m glad I did. I needed to be around my friends. I needed a drink. I needed to feel like things were normal. For that I was extremely grateful.
Later that night, I was a bit worried about the fact they had my address but decided to read the returning of my keys as a sign they weren’t interested in robbing my apartment. I canceled my bank card and made a list of things lost—my license, my phone, my social security card, my 6 Flags season pass. Stuff to deal with later.
It was at 3am when the phone rang and I knew I had to answer it. Kirby figured out how to change my cell phone message and I had made mention of my phone being stolen and to call my home number so I figured it could someone freaked out. It was the police telling me they had made an arrest and recovered my phone which was awesome and that I would get it at some point in the future. But no sign of my wallet.
I spent the next few days doing the weird bits and pieces of clean you have to do after something like this. I called my mom because I didn’t want have her stumble across the news before I could break it to her. I went and searched the neighborhood where I was robbed to see if they tossed my wallet. I researched on-line how to get a new license, a new social security card, whether they had used my bank card.
I still went out and did things—sometimes normal is the only thing you have at times—I saw Lucy in Hollywood. I talked with Mrs. Garrett about her apartment hunt. I sent out a thank you card to Kirby. I called Kaylee to let her know what happened. I paid bills.
Saturday Officer Ricky called to see if I was okay. He said he was worried because I was so calm if short with him the night before. I told him that I realized that what happened was so odd—the bold way they robbed me. The fact they were on a crime spree with no plans of stopping. The fact that I lived in the neighborhood and nothing like this EVER came close to happening before. That it wasn’t like I had done anything risky, I was aware of them and my surroundings. It wasn’t normal. It was dumb luck.
The truth is—this is not the first time I have been mugged. The first time was in Boston and I did stupid things that lead to that. I was more in danger then and I somehow knew that at the time. I was going to be fine. I had no choice but to be fine or else I was going to have some serious issues if I couldn’t walk outside without being afraid. Which Officer Ricky seemed to get and he promised to talk to me soon.
This is more irony because the next day I woke up to a knock at my door. I dragged my hung-over self (the stress led to more smoking and drinking) to the door and there he stood smiling and asking to come in. I figured he had my phone and knew I was being rude so I took into the kitchen. He said that something really lucky had happened while he was at lunch—and then he handed me my license.
Turns out he and his partner Officer Hofstra were at lunch nearby and while smoking in the parking lot he stumbled across my license on the end of the dumpster at the resteraunt. Just weird and he was surprised because he couldn’t believe it was mine and he headed over to hand off personally. I was so surprised that he thought I didn’t want my ID back but I went to the bathroom—threw some water on my face—and headed back to kitchen where he waited. I thanked him and he told me I was lucky.
Truth is—he’s right. I was very lucky. I was okay, they were caught, things came back to me and everyone did the right thing at the end of the day. I guess I am still a bit thrown but I am also lucky. So maybe the back half of this was karma. Not the first part.
(PS Before anyone asks again—Officer Ricky was quite cute and nice. He did seem concerned. He will be calling again about my phone. I have no interest because I am not a badge bunny. And it smack to much of needing a hero to save me.)
Friday, July 06, 2007
I'm Like A Bird
So I spent today nesting. And I mean hardcore in your nest nesting--like cleaning carpets and taking down ugly blind holders and through out tons of shite and replacing light blubs (7 at last count) in some weird attempt to make things homey. (I also spray painted several home decore things which is just to anal and gay for words but there you go....)
I'm not sure why there is such a sudden push on the homemaking end but I'm sure its just part of the plan to psuh Mrs Garrett out. She knows we went her gone via e-mails and a fight that she and I had, making things prettier in anticipation of her leaving just adds to it. Which is a good enough reason for me.
And with someone (I think I know who) sending mail to Kaylee at the apartment already--it is just enough to make Mrs Garrett know she is not wanted. Which works toward the master plan. though it doesn't explain me spending most of the day ironing curtains.....
So I spent today nesting. And I mean hardcore in your nest nesting--like cleaning carpets and taking down ugly blind holders and through out tons of shite and replacing light blubs (7 at last count) in some weird attempt to make things homey. (I also spray painted several home decore things which is just to anal and gay for words but there you go....)
I'm not sure why there is such a sudden push on the homemaking end but I'm sure its just part of the plan to psuh Mrs Garrett out. She knows we went her gone via e-mails and a fight that she and I had, making things prettier in anticipation of her leaving just adds to it. Which is a good enough reason for me.
And with someone (I think I know who) sending mail to Kaylee at the apartment already--it is just enough to make Mrs Garrett know she is not wanted. Which works toward the master plan. though it doesn't explain me spending most of the day ironing curtains.....
When Its Good--Words Escape Me
When Its Good--Words Escape Me
This weekend was good. I mean really good.
I got something that I really wanted.
I went to four new places with a combination of 6 good friends.
I managed to take care of something that I really needed to and I think I managed to grow as a person in the bargin.
I got books--books make me hot.
I will go into details at some point but if you were apart of this then thank you.
It means more than you know.
When Its Good--Words Escape Me
This weekend was good. I mean really good.
I got something that I really wanted.
I went to four new places with a combination of 6 good friends.
I managed to take care of something that I really needed to and I think I managed to grow as a person in the bargin.
I got books--books make me hot.
I will go into details at some point but if you were apart of this then thank you.
It means more than you know.
Its Not Hot-Its Heat
Kirby and I met up at my show because she was doing something in the area and we had already made plans to do something else that night. So I jumped in her car and we took off through Hollywood to swing by a friends house to grab her phone.
Imagine our surprise when we come down a pretty big street (not sure which) and there four cop cars blocking the intersection and the sidewalks PACKED with cops and neighbors? At first we thought it was an accident but then three more cop cars pull up behind us and the street is effectively blocked off.
Cops behind us the jump out of their cars and get the shotguns (!!!) out of their trunk and come running right pass the car and down to the intersection. It was just like that movie 'Heat'--but without Val Kilmer with a machine gun.
Of course me and Kirby being us--we leaned up through the sunroof and took pictures of the cops running down the street and texted everyone in our phones. That is until the cops forced us to drive over the sidewalk and down a side street to not be in 'danger's way.'
(All I could think was--hot cop I want to be in danger! Save Me !!!!)
What's even funnier is that Kirby and I have no idea what was going on and didn't see or hear anything on the news. But at least we can say we were part of a gun battle which will look great for our bios.
Kirby and I met up at my show because she was doing something in the area and we had already made plans to do something else that night. So I jumped in her car and we took off through Hollywood to swing by a friends house to grab her phone.
Imagine our surprise when we come down a pretty big street (not sure which) and there four cop cars blocking the intersection and the sidewalks PACKED with cops and neighbors? At first we thought it was an accident but then three more cop cars pull up behind us and the street is effectively blocked off.
Cops behind us the jump out of their cars and get the shotguns (!!!) out of their trunk and come running right pass the car and down to the intersection. It was just like that movie 'Heat'--but without Val Kilmer with a machine gun.
Of course me and Kirby being us--we leaned up through the sunroof and took pictures of the cops running down the street and texted everyone in our phones. That is until the cops forced us to drive over the sidewalk and down a side street to not be in 'danger's way.'
(All I could think was--hot cop I want to be in danger! Save Me !!!!)
What's even funnier is that Kirby and I have no idea what was going on and didn't see or hear anything on the news. But at least we can say we were part of a gun battle which will look great for our bios.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
If It Had A Theme—What Would It Be?
Current mood: Empowered
If It Had A Theme—What Would It Be?
So I had a very gay weekend—okay I can hear the comments from cyberspace already so just shut up—and found myself at a end by the end of it. It started simply enough with the end of my current job and no real plans to celebrate the occasion due to people either out of town, leaving town or other social obligations. So I decided to grab a bottle of wine and some DVDs and just send some time being chill.
(Random side note—whenever I get something new whether it is a cd or a book or dvd I have a compulsion to use said object right away. Nonetheless this means at any giving time I have a stack of novels, mix cds or films waiting to be watched.)
So I sorted through the DVDs and decided that instead of finishing 'Wonderfalls' or 'Queer As Folk' (season one) I would watch the first episode of 'Noah's Arc'. Not the short lived ABC family show but the gay sitcom from the Logo channel about a group of Black gay friends living in Los Angeles and I fell in love with the quirky characters and sense of fun and whimsy.
But after I plowed through the entire first season (yeah—it's that good) I got depressed. There is something about watching a show about a life that you have no part of that can make you crazy. I mean—as I watched the romantic trials and tribulations of Noah and the boys I started wondering why I never had that life. I always thought I would when I was a teen as I read all the 'Tales of the City' books, when I watched 'Beautiful Thing', when I would scour all the random websites about the different gay grottos of New York and Los Angels and Minneapolis. But I never have.
Part of it is my own fear, my shyness, my inability to be fully comfortable within my own skin. But in order to try and get over this claustrophobic feeling I am trying a new train of thought. It was spurred by two separate things recently said to me—one was an e-mail of Buddhist (or was it Zen?) school of thought which broke down to—'get over yourself, you're not that important'. The second was an old saying that my Nana told me—that when you are in a room with 10 new people it always breaks down like this—2 people will love you, 2 people will dislike you and the other 6 won't give a shite. Live like you're always dealing with the other six.
So what I have decided is to not only to listen and learn from both those saying but to take them as a call to action. That from here on out I am going to live my life as if I was that person I always thought I should be. That I will go out more—with friends or by myself—that I will get on the dating thing starting small with on-line stuff and seeing where that goes. To try and become my own star because there's no reason not to.
Hopefully this will involve a lot of new lot of new experiences. Bad dates, better outfits, drunken dancing, new advice column, more fun learning new things and taking myself out of the comfort zone. To put Carrie Bradshaw to shame, to make like Noah and get on with, and to make Mouse proud. There's gonna be a new blog involved with this to help push myself even harder.
I think the new opening is coming up and its time for this lead character to get on with it.
Current mood: Empowered
If It Had A Theme—What Would It Be?
So I had a very gay weekend—okay I can hear the comments from cyberspace already so just shut up—and found myself at a end by the end of it. It started simply enough with the end of my current job and no real plans to celebrate the occasion due to people either out of town, leaving town or other social obligations. So I decided to grab a bottle of wine and some DVDs and just send some time being chill.
(Random side note—whenever I get something new whether it is a cd or a book or dvd I have a compulsion to use said object right away. Nonetheless this means at any giving time I have a stack of novels, mix cds or films waiting to be watched.)
So I sorted through the DVDs and decided that instead of finishing 'Wonderfalls' or 'Queer As Folk' (season one) I would watch the first episode of 'Noah's Arc'. Not the short lived ABC family show but the gay sitcom from the Logo channel about a group of Black gay friends living in Los Angeles and I fell in love with the quirky characters and sense of fun and whimsy.
But after I plowed through the entire first season (yeah—it's that good) I got depressed. There is something about watching a show about a life that you have no part of that can make you crazy. I mean—as I watched the romantic trials and tribulations of Noah and the boys I started wondering why I never had that life. I always thought I would when I was a teen as I read all the 'Tales of the City' books, when I watched 'Beautiful Thing', when I would scour all the random websites about the different gay grottos of New York and Los Angels and Minneapolis. But I never have.
Part of it is my own fear, my shyness, my inability to be fully comfortable within my own skin. But in order to try and get over this claustrophobic feeling I am trying a new train of thought. It was spurred by two separate things recently said to me—one was an e-mail of Buddhist (or was it Zen?) school of thought which broke down to—'get over yourself, you're not that important'. The second was an old saying that my Nana told me—that when you are in a room with 10 new people it always breaks down like this—2 people will love you, 2 people will dislike you and the other 6 won't give a shite. Live like you're always dealing with the other six.
So what I have decided is to not only to listen and learn from both those saying but to take them as a call to action. That from here on out I am going to live my life as if I was that person I always thought I should be. That I will go out more—with friends or by myself—that I will get on the dating thing starting small with on-line stuff and seeing where that goes. To try and become my own star because there's no reason not to.
Hopefully this will involve a lot of new lot of new experiences. Bad dates, better outfits, drunken dancing, new advice column, more fun learning new things and taking myself out of the comfort zone. To put Carrie Bradshaw to shame, to make like Noah and get on with, and to make Mouse proud. There's gonna be a new blog involved with this to help push myself even harder.
I think the new opening is coming up and its time for this lead character to get on with it.
Monday, June 11, 2007
How Dumb Can You Be?
So my current show is ending and I have already started to line up another one which is good...very good... But what I hate is when you ask for the info and there's no following through on it... Especially when new jobs for me hinge on key elements such as location... But I hate getting into the details of how I don't drive--most people look at it as a major weakness--but it works for me on all levels. I can get anywhere and do most anything... But I need info to make that choice as to whether I can stay at a job...
So with this in the back of my head--I started talking to other people about wok leads... Plus I could pass off some of the new leads to Nolan since he is looking too so it's a win/win. Until you e-mail someone about job leads who is working at the new show you are SUPPOSED to be doing so they call you FREAKED OUT thinking that you are blowing off the job. So then you seem like an idiot or flakey so then you have to mull over which is worse... Full disclosure or confusion.
Le sigh. Life is not this hard. It's me being stupid or insecure I guess.
So my current show is ending and I have already started to line up another one which is good...very good... But what I hate is when you ask for the info and there's no following through on it... Especially when new jobs for me hinge on key elements such as location... But I hate getting into the details of how I don't drive--most people look at it as a major weakness--but it works for me on all levels. I can get anywhere and do most anything... But I need info to make that choice as to whether I can stay at a job...
So with this in the back of my head--I started talking to other people about wok leads... Plus I could pass off some of the new leads to Nolan since he is looking too so it's a win/win. Until you e-mail someone about job leads who is working at the new show you are SUPPOSED to be doing so they call you FREAKED OUT thinking that you are blowing off the job. So then you seem like an idiot or flakey so then you have to mull over which is worse... Full disclosure or confusion.
Le sigh. Life is not this hard. It's me being stupid or insecure I guess.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Rocky Interviews Me
We know the game--if you want me to interview you--comment away.
1 - You are on a yacht with 5 people - who are they and why?
Okay--hmm--hard one. I think it would be Michael Dawson, Dylan Drazen, David Levithan, Mom and Edie.
Michael Dawson was the first boy I was ever involved with and it was a complicated and stormy tenage affair that in some ways still effects me to this day--I have many questions for him for my own peace of mind.
Dylan Drazen is one of the few people in my life that I have actively done wrong and I would like the chance to reconnect and make admends. I don't know if he would ever understand what i did but I would like a chance to make it up.
David Levithan is one of my favorite authors of ten lit ever and writes in such a smart and beautiful way--I'd like to try and understand where he gets his muse from.
My mom because i love her and would love to be able to talk with her about everything away from all the stuff that gets between us like real life. She has a lot to impart and I need to take the time with that.
And Edie to get drunk and dress up with. She's really good at that.
2 - What is the title to the New York Times article you write, and what is it about?
'I Was A Fat Bulimic' and it would be about the misconceptions regarding what is a eating disorder and how it doesn't mean painfully skinny girls but rather all types of people.
3 - Describe the perfect accessory.
The perfect accessory would be the perfect pair of sunglasses. Eye care is important and should be sexy and well fitting.
4 - If you had to pick your lowest low, when would that be and what triggered it? Do you feel foolish now for letting that get to you?
My lowest low--that's a hard one to pick. I think it would me begging someone out of my past for an acceptence that they would never giv me. I still wonder why I was deemed unworthy but it has been said to me any times since that I was unworthy of the entire situtation in the first place.
5 - If you could be anyone, who would it be and why?
I would stay myself. I already know the lay of the land and am comfortable with who I am. I don't need much more than that. (Though I would think being Justin Timberlake would be fun for a night.)
We know the game--if you want me to interview you--comment away.
1 - You are on a yacht with 5 people - who are they and why?
Okay--hmm--hard one. I think it would be Michael Dawson, Dylan Drazen, David Levithan, Mom and Edie.
Michael Dawson was the first boy I was ever involved with and it was a complicated and stormy tenage affair that in some ways still effects me to this day--I have many questions for him for my own peace of mind.
Dylan Drazen is one of the few people in my life that I have actively done wrong and I would like the chance to reconnect and make admends. I don't know if he would ever understand what i did but I would like a chance to make it up.
David Levithan is one of my favorite authors of ten lit ever and writes in such a smart and beautiful way--I'd like to try and understand where he gets his muse from.
My mom because i love her and would love to be able to talk with her about everything away from all the stuff that gets between us like real life. She has a lot to impart and I need to take the time with that.
And Edie to get drunk and dress up with. She's really good at that.
2 - What is the title to the New York Times article you write, and what is it about?
'I Was A Fat Bulimic' and it would be about the misconceptions regarding what is a eating disorder and how it doesn't mean painfully skinny girls but rather all types of people.
3 - Describe the perfect accessory.
The perfect accessory would be the perfect pair of sunglasses. Eye care is important and should be sexy and well fitting.
4 - If you had to pick your lowest low, when would that be and what triggered it? Do you feel foolish now for letting that get to you?
My lowest low--that's a hard one to pick. I think it would me begging someone out of my past for an acceptence that they would never giv me. I still wonder why I was deemed unworthy but it has been said to me any times since that I was unworthy of the entire situtation in the first place.
5 - If you could be anyone, who would it be and why?
I would stay myself. I already know the lay of the land and am comfortable with who I am. I don't need much more than that. (Though I would think being Justin Timberlake would be fun for a night.)
Rories Wobble
It is six months—almost to the hour—of when Samuel and I ended. Not broke up—that happened over the days and weeks afterwards with drama and phone calls and sex and too many words. Useless words as it turns out—words that better writers than us would have edited out of the story, the script. But six months ago is when I knew that things were over.
That all that we had been working towards, building towards, making allowances for had been in vain. That he was leaving, that I couldn't make him stay, that for all of the best reasons and the worst of emotions we had reached the finale. No goal or end result. Just an end.
And so I made a deal with myself. I could have six months to work through it. Six months to get over all of the moments and the memories and the missteps. To take a deep look at myself and see where I went wrong. That I could only examine myself in all of this—that I could try to understand where he was coming from but how many of us can do that. No one really can.
So I spent my days on ledges, sometimes the constant bitch, my own Margo Channing storming the stage, sashsaying down staircases, being smug and demanding and mean. The half of the time I was Mrs. Habersham, in my moth-eaten wedding dress, speaking of sad love gone away, pacing the interiors of my mind. I took myself to task.
I wondered if I loved enough, did enough, changed enough, was fair enough, believed enough…. Whether I was ever really there in the moment or just watching from the sidelines and waiting to see how the story ends. I do that more often than not and while it makes my wit, it also makes me aloof. But I came to certain realizations
That I am not a lover—at least not in the Dante's meaning of the word. I am not some wide eyed romantic, I don't long for the wooing, I don not take much delight in the first bite of the apple. That when it comes to being in love—I don't pursue it. I don't live for it the way some do. I don't need to be married or have the family or the whirlwind of courtship or any of a million things that a million people more than I could count. It's not who I am.
I am sure that part of this is from the grab bag of emotion weirdness I grew up in; that all the little things that brought me through childhood shaded and coloured how I would always view relationships. This is not to say I that I push away love—I'm more like Drew Barrymore in 'Never Been Kissed'; I live on the pitcher's mound, I am waiting and meeting love half way and the timer hasn't even started yet.
It may not be the best start but it is the one that I am best at. So when I wake up tomorrow I'm going to allow myself to be over it. That all this stuff I have been holding on to gets pushed out finally. It's not perfect and I'm going to force myself. But now it's time to wobble—not fall down.
It is six months—almost to the hour—of when Samuel and I ended. Not broke up—that happened over the days and weeks afterwards with drama and phone calls and sex and too many words. Useless words as it turns out—words that better writers than us would have edited out of the story, the script. But six months ago is when I knew that things were over.
That all that we had been working towards, building towards, making allowances for had been in vain. That he was leaving, that I couldn't make him stay, that for all of the best reasons and the worst of emotions we had reached the finale. No goal or end result. Just an end.
And so I made a deal with myself. I could have six months to work through it. Six months to get over all of the moments and the memories and the missteps. To take a deep look at myself and see where I went wrong. That I could only examine myself in all of this—that I could try to understand where he was coming from but how many of us can do that. No one really can.
So I spent my days on ledges, sometimes the constant bitch, my own Margo Channing storming the stage, sashsaying down staircases, being smug and demanding and mean. The half of the time I was Mrs. Habersham, in my moth-eaten wedding dress, speaking of sad love gone away, pacing the interiors of my mind. I took myself to task.
I wondered if I loved enough, did enough, changed enough, was fair enough, believed enough…. Whether I was ever really there in the moment or just watching from the sidelines and waiting to see how the story ends. I do that more often than not and while it makes my wit, it also makes me aloof. But I came to certain realizations
That I am not a lover—at least not in the Dante's meaning of the word. I am not some wide eyed romantic, I don't long for the wooing, I don not take much delight in the first bite of the apple. That when it comes to being in love—I don't pursue it. I don't live for it the way some do. I don't need to be married or have the family or the whirlwind of courtship or any of a million things that a million people more than I could count. It's not who I am.
I am sure that part of this is from the grab bag of emotion weirdness I grew up in; that all the little things that brought me through childhood shaded and coloured how I would always view relationships. This is not to say I that I push away love—I'm more like Drew Barrymore in 'Never Been Kissed'; I live on the pitcher's mound, I am waiting and meeting love half way and the timer hasn't even started yet.
It may not be the best start but it is the one that I am best at. So when I wake up tomorrow I'm going to allow myself to be over it. That all this stuff I have been holding on to gets pushed out finally. It's not perfect and I'm going to force myself. But now it's time to wobble—not fall down.
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