I've never been good with indoor plants

That is all.

I really need to stop being so easily creeped out.

First, there was bird flu.

Then everything but the kitchen sink got contaminated with salmonella.

And now we have the swine flu.

I swear to god I don't know what's worse: the fact that the media is blowing this latest outbreak of some virus/bacteria WAY out of proportion (seriously, you'd think the world were ending if yoiu listened to the way the media's describing the thing - outbreak, pandemic, catastrophe ); or that I'm seriously going to be walking around for the next few weeks afraid of anyone who so much as scratches their nose due to the media scaring the bajesus out of me.

This is SO my jam right now.

 

That is all. For now. 

"This ain't my first time at the rodeo..."

Mommy Dearest -- gotta love this critically-panned camp classic:

I can't help having this thing for women who aren't afraid to take on a boardroom full of men and come out on top. My favorite scene from a movie that's full of memorable scenes. I have no shame in admitting that I watch this whenever I need to feel powerful. lol

This "Miss California" Business

Here it is:

Now, as much as I obviously don't agree with what she believes (and am embarrassed that she represents my home state, once again displaying how simultaneously progressive and ass-backwards Cali can be), I also have to defend her right to say what she believes. It took a lot of guts to be that honest and give an answer that's so politically incorrect. I personally hope she wasn't denied the crown purely because of her answer to the gay marriage question. In my opinion, there were plenty of other things to go by in that pig trough of an answer ("opposite marriage" really? I think she should be clearer on what heterosexual marriage is before she disses gay marriage.)

No, she shouldn't have been penalized for her answer (if she was).

But I also understand that, for a lot of gays upset by this chick, therein lies the problem.

This event, and the resulting debate it has caused, has been like a slap in the face of the gay community in this country and, honestly, our faces are a still a little bruised from Proposition 8 passing in tandem with the election of one of our country's most liberal presidents. It serves as a reminder of how much further we have to go, and while its so easy to sit back in our little bubbles and believe that in 2009 gays are near-universally accepted (unless you're in the South), we have to stay vigilant because there still is a very real threat to our civil liberties.

So many of us gays (and allies) got so comfortable in our educated, liberal worlds that we began to believe that things like this couldn't happen anymore. That, in this new age, the only public opposition of gay rights would be from the mouths of hypocritical politicians and religious leaders. Because we've demonized corrupt politicians and religious leaders, and relegated them to symbols of a steadily passing and archaic world, we're prepared for bigotry when it comes from them. We're not totally prepared when it comes from beauty queens.

Damnit, we thought we had beauty queens in the bag!

So I can see why so many of us gays (and our supporters) are so enraged by this chick. She reminded us of how fragile what we have is, and how much more work we have to do to strengthen it.

Seriously, lets say for a second that Miss California were secretly racist. No -- let's say that she's not racist. She doesn't have a problem with black people per se...she just believes that everyone should stick to their own kind, and thus doesn't believe in interracial marriage. Now, in this day in age, does anyone honestly think that if she were asked about interracial marriage by a judge that she would have "listened to [her] faith" and given an honest answer? Hell no. She would have lied through her teeth and said something along the lines of "I think interracial marriage is a legitimate, beautiful thing and I wholeheartedly support it."

And why? Because in this day and age, interracial marriage is such an accepted facet of our society, and nonacceptance of it such a widely deplorable thing that even people that personally don't accept it wouldn't dare be so public about it (unless they were in the KKK or something like that, of course). If Miss California had said she were against interracial marriage not only would she have been denied the crown for that very reason, but she most likely would have been disqualified from the pageant. And there wouldn't be such wide debate about her right to be honest. She'd be near-universally panned.

For some of us gays, it's still a bit upsetting that when someone comes out so publicly against us and our right to live our lives openly and equally, it is still considered an openly debatable subject.

Blurbs

So, in place of a complete and angsty entry, I think I'm going to fill this post with a ton of little things that have been on my mind. Marvel at my ability to be compact!

I have [another] new layout.

What can I say? I can't help it. But I think I might keep this one for a while. Sure, I liked the templates with the pretty pictures and the professional layouts, but I think this simple-but-loud design captures the very essense of me.

Apparently, I'm deserving of awards. 

This comes from Sassy Britches over at Well okay, Sassy Britches (love that title!). I'm extremely honored that someone's taken a liking to me and these words I water my potted plant with. I guess I'm likable; Sassy definitely is. :)

 

Pretty!

But I'm not sure I can accept this. :( I'm still pretty new to this official "blogging" thing, and don't know 15 blogs period, much less 15 newly-discovered blogs. I'll list the blogs I know. It's ok if I'm disqualified...I'll just hide the tears.

Don't Call Me Kathleen 

Innocents and Accidents, Hints and Allegations 

Wow...just two...I need to get out more...:( Well, I guess Sassy could make three, but I'm not sure I can nominate the person who nominated me...

Oh well, these two bloggers are very deserving. Katie's blog is so lovely (and she's so lovable), that I'm sure she's been nominated for this award multiple times. And Michael leaves me really nice comments (complete with hilariously accurate analogies). His blog goes over my head sports-wise but I still read it, which in itself is an accomplishment. He seems like one of those straight guy friends I just learned how to have.

Grey Gardens: It made me cry

   

Photo Courtesy of HBO

Well, there you go. I watched Grey Gardens last night, and it made me cry. Hardcore. Then I watched it with my roommate Erin again this afternoon, and I cried again. That's just sad.

I don't usually like things that are engineered to make you cry. This is usually why I can't strand Extreme Home Makeover and avoid it like the plague. But when cheap emotional ploys are covered up with expert storytelling and superb acting performances, you can forgive it.

This is the case with Grey Gardens. I'm not about to summarize this film (Just hit up Wikipedia if you don't know the story of these two women and their once fabulous lives and East Hampton home), but to say it touched me is an understatement. Sure, the movie isn't perfect, and some would say there are a few holes in the plot (I would disagree), but the writing is top-notch, and the performances are even better. Drew Barrymore is especially amazing in this film. I mean, geez, I've always loved Drew; but this "serious" role is so unlike anything she's ever done that the fact that she's so amazingly convincing as Little Edie is just all the more spectacular. In Grey Gardens, Drew steps out of the romantic-comedy starlet label and proves herself as an actress to be reckoned with. Jessica Lange gives a great performance as well as Big Edie, but make no mistake: this movie belongs to Drew.

And there's just something so tragically inspiring about Little Edie. Little Edie may have been just a tiny bit nuts, and sure it was her own fear and sense of duty to her mother that kept her in that house and away from pursuing her dreams. Some would even say that Little Edie really wasn't all that talented (and they'd be right). But she had this dream, this sense of worth in herself. She had this thing to hold on to even as her own fear kept her sequestered, and even as her once fabulous life literally fell apart around her. When she gets her moment in the end, her tiny moment...and she seizes it and embraces it and wallows in its warmth, Drew Barrymore captures this moment so completely that you just can't help getting emotional and, at least in my case, bawling your eyes out.

Finally, on a lighter note, I am singing this song next time I do karaoke. Katie, you in for a duet?

Warning: this might not be safe for work:



(Wow, that wasn't very compact, was it?)

About time I gave one of these writing prompts a try.

It's about time I give one of these writing prompts from Twenty Something Writers (awesome site) a try. Actually, correction:

It's about time I give one of these writing prompts a try and actually post the entry.

Truthfully, I did the last prompt they put up -- something along the lines of "if you could go back in time and change something, when would you go and what would you change?" And what was originally meant to be a two paragraph response became this emotional drivel spanning several pages about a childhood friend of mine. I'll post that eventually, but in its current state it's a stylistic monstrosity, and I want to edit it because I think it could be one of those good things that I write in my life.

Anyway, to this latest prompt, which actually made me a bit giddy:

Who was your favorite cartoon charachter as a child? No holding back, admit it! Did you have a lot of collector’s items (stuffed animals, bed sheets, figurines, etc) of them? Are they worth any money currently?

 Ok, here we go, I'll be honest. It's not like anyone will be all that surprised anyway:

 !!Sailor Moon!!

 

Yeah, I could have posted a more "official" image of the Sailor Scouts from the show, but don't they just look so cute in their 80's-anime couture evening dresses? God, I am hopelessly gay...

Shocking right? I know...

I was so in total, complete love with Sailor Moon as a kid. It was also a love my mother encouraged, because it was the only thing that would wake me up in the mornings for school (you see, SM only came on early mornings during the weekdays. I would actually wake up earlier than my mother to catch it). It took everything I loved about Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers -- the whole "group of innocent youths suddenly given the power and responsibility to protect the world" thing -- and took it to the next level: making it a cartoon series centered around angsty teenage girls, glitter and cute costumes! Everything the burgeoning gay boy in me needed!

(Not to mention, Dorian is THE sexiest cartoon hunk. Ever. Period. End. Of. Discussion.)

But more than that, it was the greatest escape. Just like Power Rangers, Sailor Moon was a show that catered to the kids that just wanted to feel powerful and important in a word that made the decisions for them. These five girls weren't super heroes in the traditional sense. They weren't born with their super powers. They didn't get their powers in a freak accident and thus were forever marked by them. They were normal kids with normal problems, and normal hobbies, and normal crushes. But, when the world was in trouble, they could transform into something great, something that the world needed.

As a kid, it was the greatest thing to escape into that.

(oh, and I was also Sailor Jupiter) 

 

(She was the tallest girl in her class, loved to cook, and was the least afraid of getting in some bad dude's face. Fuck yes)

And if I could meet them...I'd steal Sailor Moon's transformation pen. Instead of the pain of getting dressed and keeping a wardrobe every day, I'd love to be able to just call out what I wanted to look like that day (sexy news reporter!), twirl around gracefully amongst a spray of stars and glitter, and voila!

Right now, it's still a tiny sprout...

How do you know when you're ready for a relationship? Well...first, buy a potted plant. And, if the plant is still alive a year later, get a pet. If the pet is alive and healthy a year later, go on a date.

-Some Movie

I remember that quote from some movie I watched a while back. It's the only thing I remember from that movie, but it's something that's stuck with me, and that I've been trying to apply to my relationships with a lot of things...not just boys. 

(also, I think the movie might have had Sandra Bullock in it.)

I love blogging. I think my favorite thing about blogging is going back and reading older entries. You know, getting a fresh perspective after days/weeks/months/years of disassociating myself from a particular post (especially looking at entries dedicated to ex boyfriends and marveling at all the time and precious energy I had invested in them).

The problem seems to be, though, that I get so caught up in thinking that every post I write has to be some philosophical, provocative series of golden thought nuggets that should immediately be published in the New Yorker, that I eventually cave under the self-imposed pressure, and my poor blog suffers months of neglect.

But not this time.

I need blogging too much.

Honestly, I need to feel like I can actually devote myself to something. I need to feel like there's something here, inside me, that needs to be released...and that I can release. I need to feel like I can be stained, and that I leave stains. I want to know that whatever I touch keeps a little bit of me on it--even if it is on my own blog. I want this blog to symbolize a new effort from me, in everything.

This blog will be my potted plant.

And everyday I will water it. I will give it sunshine and nurture it and watch it grow and see what it becomes. It may not become a great thing to the world, but if I can keep at it and take care of it, it will become a great thing to me, and that's really all that matters. And, after a time, when this blog has become me...I'll add a pet to my life, whatever that pet may be...

Could be going back to school.

Could be getting a job that means more to me than just paying the bills.

Could be finally writing a novel.

Could be a pet llama that I name Honky-Donk. Who knows.

It probably won't be a boy.

But for now I won't think about it. For now I'll just start over, and think about the little things. The fundamental things that I need to think about. For now I'll concentrate on watering this potted plant, and hope for the best.

(and boy, I hope tomorrow goes well.)



And I think it's already starting to work. I didn't intend for this entry to turn into a philosophical golden thought nugget. But I think it did, and that's ok. This is not the type of plant that grows straight up. It'll probably knot, and splinter, and curl in on itself. Its chlorophyll will mature and evolve, changing it from olive green to emerald and back again. I have no control over that. This blog is a living thing.

Gay Ruminations

So, I'm logging on to Facebook today, minding my own freakin' business, when my Feed visually assaults me with shirtless pics of a certain friend of mine at an unknown beach. Needless to say, in my current single state they were the last pics I ever wanted to see. No, actually, you can't possibly understand what these pics did to my goody bits, because you haven't seen them. So I will give you a taste of them (the pics, not my goodies. THOSE stay in the jar...honest). Now, out of respect for this friend I won't give his name or post the actual pic of him, but this following pic I stumbled upon comes pretty close to how his mostly-naked body looked on the beach:

No, my friend isn't Hugh Jackman. If he were, I'd be too busy out getting him drunk enough to not notice me copping a feel to keep up a blog. But it's very close to what his pecs look like.

Now, hopefully you guys understand why I was so hot and...ummm, bothered.

But I'm not here to vent my sexual frustrations (ok, maybe partially). Believe it or not, I actually have a deeper point.

After being borderline turned-on by my friend's pics, I proceeded to message him via Facebook Chat, you know -- to see how he was doing, and jokingly suggest that he think of his gay facebook friends and their fragile hearts before he posts more pics of himself wet and shirtless. This friend, being the legitimately straight (DAMNIT) but awesome guy that he is, casually joked back. The conversation didn't last much longer past that.

Later that night, as I was pondering life's eternal purpose over a sink of dirty dishes, it suddenly hit me how much maturer I've gotten. You see, not too long ago, I would have seen that picture of my straight friend, joked flirtatiously with him, and read entirely too much into his joking back. This would have led to a few weeks of increased flirtation on my end, and complete neutrality on his...finally culminating in weeks worth of depression and exhaustion from reading into signals that weren't really there. Also, there would have been the risk of throwing away a casual, but still worthwhile friendship with someone.

But no, I flirted with a hot guy, accepted the fact that he was quite straight, and left it at that.

Go me. :)

You'd be surprised by how hard this is for some gay men. And it highlights some things I've learned:

1) Do not go after closeted men. Really, he may be hot and we may have something in common, but I've learned that if he's not out of the closet it's best to just stick to my own kind. Pursuing a closeted man may seem dangerous in a sexy way at first, but really it's just dramatic, and it says a lot about where the person is, in regards to a relationship. I, as a fabulous out-of-the-closet gay, am looking for the type of guy who is willing to give himself completely to the love I'm so willing to give, openly. Not gaudily. But still -- openly. I've learned enough from experience to know that I'm not going to get that from a guy a who can't be open, no matter how much we have in common outside of that pesky sexuality thing.

and...

2) I've learned to always be aware of the fact that straight men have egos. And, though they will deny it until they're blue in the balls, want to feel attractive. Some straight men are also so egotistical that, if they know they're in the presence of a homosexual male, they will go out of their way to confirm that this homo thinks they're attractive. You know, so they can say, "I'm so hot, even the fags want my dick. Bla bla bla! I'm a tool!" To accomplish this end, there are some straight men -- actual straight men -- who will flirt with gay men to the point that those gay men let their guard down and completely expose their interest, then leave them out in the lurch. It's cruel, really. Now, smart gay boys (like me) can, in some cases, actually manipulate this straight male ego to get more out of said straight man than he is initially willing to give...but at the end of the day, it really isn't worth it. STAY AWAY. Keep it casual, but that's it. Keep the heart off the sleave.

Tying these two points together, not going for the closeted guy automatically prevents me from going after the guy I think is closeted, but in reality is as straight as the WWE (...wait). In the case of my friend, part of the reason I was so able to take his joking at face value was the fact that I let myself take him at face value. He says he's straight, so he's straight. Period.

Two simple rules. When followed, they do a lot to keep me (and my pants) out of trouble, and actually help me collect some straight male friends.

Managers...you suck...(a post to put me to sleep)

(Just a warning: I'm in a mood. And when I'm in a mood, all sense of grammar, punctuation, style, and rhythm fly right out the window. Also, I refer to myself in 3rd person. If that bothers you, I really don't give a fuck -- I'm in a mood. So take this handy link right out of my blog, thank you.)

Here's Brandon's biggest pet peeve in the blue-collar working world:

Scheduling.

Contrary to popular belief, Brandon loves working. He doesn't like picking at managers and causing conflict in the workplace.

Really, he doesn't.

Brandon also doesn't mind full-time. In fact, he is usually in the position where he needs to work full-time. He realizes that (oftentimes this leads to him working several hours over the legal limit). But what Brandon just doesn't understand is why it's such a problem for managers to learn how to work a schedule. Really, it's not hard. If you need him to work, put him on the schedule. If you don't need him to work, don't put him the schedule.

If you want to piss him off, put him on the schedule and have him think he's working at a certain time for an entire week, and then take him off the schedule at the last possible moment...like when he's about to walk out the door and into the rain.

That'll piss him off real good.

Brandon can't get too mad at this place, though. It's a first time offense and the excuse was semi-good enough. But what seems to be a prevailing problem amongst the various managing bodies at the various places of business across the greater Philadelphia area seems to be easily solved:

MAKE A PROPER SCHEDULE AND DON'T FORGET IT!

Thank you.

I swear, sometimes it seems that, behind every inept employee, there's a manager that's twice as inept and half as likely to accept accountability. But that's a topic for another time.

Now, I'm off to bed. Let's see if tomorrow can't be just a bit better.

It shouldn't have to be said

Marlon Brando (circa A Streetcar Named Desire) was the sexiest man. Ever. That is all.

I love these TED talks...

Hmmm...creativity as a sentient being separate of yourself. Dedicating yourself to your craft while at the same time divesting yourself of it. I might have to actually read her book Eat, Pray, Love . Great lecture...

Katie, it's all your fault.

So, I'm defecting. After all this time I'm finally abandoning Livejournal. I never thought I would -- I've been there for so many years and it'll be hard to part from the sense of community that only Livejournal has. But I can no longer deny pretty Blogger...

So Livejournal, I must leave you. Blogger's younger, more supple build and attractive features only serve to highlight your age. I'll be back every now and then to catch up and relive the good times, of course. But I must be honest, your years of loyal service and fidelity have been bested by the younger model in the tight red dress...