This Makes Me Sad



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Banner Week

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

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

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

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

Le Sigh

YEAH YEAH YEAH

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

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

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

Quote of the Day

From the Nation Novel Writing Month Forums

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

I find this is always true.

Unlikely Man Crush



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

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

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

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

Something to Think About




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

This Day in History

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




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

Na No Wri Mo

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

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

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

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

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

Quote of the Day

RE the importance of limb placement in photography.


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


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

The Little Rory That Could

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes You Have to Wonder

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

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

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

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

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

Pill Pain and Protests

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Last One

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

See--I can't stop crying.

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

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

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

But I can't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's one of the few rights I have.

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

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

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

Its raining in Los Angeles

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

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

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

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

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

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

Na No Update

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

It is a young adult novel.

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

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

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


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

-I have given him an allegry attack

-made him sneeze on the most popular guy at school

-had him get yelled at by a teacher

-have his books knocked out of his arms

-taken drug overdose (but nothing too hardcore)

-give another classmate a bloody nose

And he is about

-have his clothes stolen from the locker room

-faint and be found naked

-be outted as gay during a underground punk rock show

(I think I might be a sadist.)

Why I Love the Nanny



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

She says:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Freedom Fighter,

Fran Drescher"

Because I Love

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



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



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

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

Na No Wri Mo

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

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

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

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



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


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

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

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

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

PAUSE

Lolly 'Maybe we should go to London.'

Less A Trick and More A Treat

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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