| Journal & Weblog | Write to Save Your Life | June 5, 2003 |
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posted Tuesday, October 31, 2000 Top Ten Gay Halloween Costumes Vamps & Voodoo was a blast. More of a circuit party with costumes than a halloween party (then again, what circuit party doesn't have costumes?), the majority of attendees fit into a distinct, ten categories, as determined by Jonno and myself. They are as follows:
First place, by an overwhelming majority, was "Shirtless Circuit Queen," but I'm afraid we had to disqualify that, for as Richard says, "No shirt is not a costume."
New Orleans - Last Day It's the last day of my stay at the Jonno/Richard household. Even though I told myself I wasn't going to submit to the temptation of blogging while I was here, I decided to punch out at least one before I left. New Orleans is an incredible place. "The dust here is half glitter, half decay," as Richard once said. It's pretty amazing how accurate that its. An old black woman who stopped me on the street told me there's something in the air here that grabs ahold of you. Maybe it's voodoo, maybe it's sweat, maybe it's the river. I didn't notice it at first and blew her off, but now I'm wondering if I'm sensing it. It's not heavy, but it pulls you in. As far as my stay is concerned, I couldn't have received better hospitality. J&R are truly the sweet, funny, intelligent, and gorgeous people they appear to be on the web (not to mention they make a fabulous couple). They are also masters of disguise (like Transformers, more than meets the eye!), being able to morph into various permutations of drag-glitter zombies at a moment's notice. I now aspire to have a comparable neglige collection in my closet when I grow up. This has been one of the most memorable weekends I've had in a long time. The parties, the boys, the city... it's all been somewhat overwhelming. I'll be sure to post more about it when I get back. Be sure to check out the pictures that Jonno will be posting this week.
Well Deserved His ear was right next to my mouth. Kurt was in my arms, sleeping soundly, snoring softly. It would have been so easy to say it while he was sleeping and I stiffled a laugh at the thought of re-enacting a certain Pretty Woman scene. Just say it. Just say it. Just say it. But I couldn't do it. Not because I didn't feel it, but because I'd never said it before and wasn't sure how it would sound coming out of my mouth. I sighed and went to sleep. I'm leaving tonight. I deserve a vacation and I don't mean that lightly. Over 70 hours have been dedicated to a lab project that was due this morning and I had two midterms Tuesday. With everything culminating to a final breaking point this morning, I am ready to carry the momentum with me to New Orleans. So, with that said, I bid a fond adieu to you, dear reader. Take heart, I'll be back before you (or I) know it. Life happens with such subtle ferocity — and overlooked velocity — it's amazing our lives don't fade like flashes from a camera. Hold on to every second. Don't let it pass you by.
Overload With all that's going on in the world, it's a wonder we're still living. Famous words of Erykah Badu. I listen with a careful ear to the news of violence in the Middle East. What would happen if we just ignored it and left them to their own devices? I throw my bookbag over my shoulder and swallow hard, making my way into a chilly headwind. Bracing myself for the weather doesn't do any good, as the cold is born of insecurities within. I have so much to pay attention to, so much I want to pay attention to, and so much I should pay attention to, but just don't have the energy or resources or time. Information overload. It's as though my entire week is culminating at a climactic, pinnacle point this week: I have two midterms to study for on Tuesday, a Neural Networks project due on Wednesday, and an Operating Systems project due on Thursday. I'm leaving then for a week and I still have to pack. My relationship seems to be at yet another turning point and I have a queue of upkeep piling up behind me. Whatever happens this week in the world, this swelling ought to have a significant release. A positive release. Maybe this release of positive energy into the system will have a butterfly effect on the momentum of history. Then again, probably not. Perspective is always skewed in the eye of the storm.
Mister Clean I like clean. I need clean. As a matter of fact, the other day, as I was reflecting on this idea of cleanliness I realized that it manifests itself in a rather unusual way: when I need motivation to go to the gym and work out, I repeat to myself, "I am clean." It never really struck me as odd but it works in any case because as soon as I start tossing that idea around in my head, I am filled with the motivation and desire to pump myself up, and believe me, when I'm done working out, I am anything but clean—a situation quickly remedied by a scalding shower and the frothy lather of antibacterial detergents. I briefly considered this as an early sign of obsessive-compulsive behavior and, frankly, it scared me. I began to obsess over whether or not I was OC. Then I realized that my worrying was probably compounding the matter and decided to leave it alone, but to this day, I am a firm believer that one can never be too clean.
Button-Fly Begone For the first time in two years, I'm wearing a pair of zipper-fly jeans. Not for any reason other than the fact that I picked them up at the store yesterday without examining them. I've forgotten what a miracle of science the zipper is. Not only can I walk confidently without having to worry about drafty breezes where they're not wanted, I've also effectively shaved five seconds off the time I spend in the restroom.
Born to be Lazy You know, it's surprising I'm not obese. Besides working out at the gym a few times a week, I am the epitome of laziness. I work in front of a computer for 8 hours a day, go home and sit either in front of the television or the computer until I have to go to bed, and then I sleep. I think it's starting to get to me. As Freud once stipulated, humans have three basic needs: the need for survival, the need for sex, and the need for productivity. Although I'm being relatively productive as far as work is concerned, I feel slothful and tired. I need physical productivity too. There have been several times in my life when I've considered dropping everything and becoming a construction worker or river guide. Granted, these things would become boring and routine as well, no doubt. Somehow, though, I'd feel better if I didn't have to drag my butt out of bed to sit at a desk all day. Maybe it's time for a vacation. Speaking of which, only seven days until I leave for New Orleans!
Say What? Driving to work this morning, I noticed a bumper sticker on a car ahead of me displaying a Denver Bronco's logo and the title "World Champions." At first this struck me as funny. I mean, sure they won the past two Superbowls, but c'mon, "World Champions"? Somehow, bumper stickers like this suggest to me that the driver of the car feels, in some way, superior because he is a fan of the winning team. Although it makes sense in a very limited sort of way, the idea just started to piss me off. THe arrogance that sticker suggested astounds me. And it's not just the hot-headed ego we boast in often pointless, professional sports that amazes me, but the superciliousness that we display in every aspect of our culture from foreign relations, to the environment, and commercial enterprising. I know that sometimes it's difficult for people to get past their inbred, sibling-rivalry one-upmanship, but to the driver of that car and the rest of the world that refuses to grow up and see beyond the end of their noses: "Get over yourself." Okay. This is me getting over it right now.
Weekend Update As the clock ticks down to midterms and my vacation, I am becoming increasingly distracted. On top of that, I have had to maintain this relationship and some semblance of a social life, to boot. Verdict: success, thus far. Friday night, Kurt had a marching band competition which I attended with Lindsay. I think both of us nearly wet our pants with excitement, as neither of us have been around so many uniformed men at one time. Saturday was less eventful, as Kurt and I went to a house party at Leif's that was quickly becoming an open invitation for a drug raid. We said our goodbyes and went home to hang out. On Sunday, Kurt further proved that he could one-up me in just about anything as he slept a record 15 hours. We watched "Remember the Titans," which was predictable but entertaining. All in all, the weekend was a long-awaited chance for me to catch up with him and convince myself that I'm definitely with the right guy. Although it's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, I've also been known to get unreasonably jealous and suspicious when I don't spend every waking minute with him. I'm learning, slowly.
Mystery Brownies Escaping the confies of my apartment to attend class, I was surprised to look down and discover a heavily wrapped parcel at my doorstep. Opening it for a peek inside, I discovered a pie tin wrapped in tin-foil, wrapped in plastic, wrapped in a grocery bag. Contained within was a pile of richly-smelling, fudge brownies. I wondered who could have left them, recalling that my next-door neighbor's door had slammed earlier as though someone had opened and closed it quickly. It must have been the new girls that moved in next door. I smiled to myself, the thought of girl-crushes and secret-love-brownies running through my head. But suddenly, the smile disappeared from my face. What if they are poisoned brownies left by an evil stalker? There was no note or label to indicate their safety or nutritional content, no knock on the door to indicate the gift, just a tin of brownies on my doorstep. Very suspicious indeed. I carefully carried them inside and set them on the table. They looked very innocent just sitting there, filling the room with their warm aroma and I wondered how such diabolical thoughts could have ever crossed my mind when they smelled so good. I shrugged and grabbed a few before heading out the door. If I was going to die in class from boredom, I might as well speed the process with some delicious, poisoned brownies.
Mental Masturbation My mind is encumbered by the week's weight, homework, company re-org, and social frustration. Maybe it's the weight of simply becoming an adult—a transition that seemed would come so naturally only a few years ago. Now I'm at a pinnacle moment in my life where I feel a decision should be made about what I want my life to represent and what I want to achieve. I have everything I need: a budding career, money, a steady relationship, a good education, and possibilities. God, the possibilities. I first picked up an issue of AdBusters last summer, while visiting Andrea. Not many drastic changes occur in my life, but looking back, I realize that I was a changed person the minute I picked up that magazine. I have since subscribed and acquired every back-issue. I still haven't figured out whether I like the magazine or not. I want to agree with their stance on anti-consumerism, anti-globalism, and anti-corporatism. I am the antithesis of everything the magazine represents, however. I am swiftly becoming a corporate pawn. I own a fuel-inefficent SUV. I shop the Gap and support Phillip Morris subsidaries such as Kraft and Nabisco. I am a stout Democrat. I choose plastic at the grocery store and don't recycle. Sure, it's great that I realize these things and think about them and their effects on society and the environment, but I see myself headed down a spiral that I may not be able to stop once I'm in. Will I be able to appreciate the large quantities of money I make or grow accustomed and callous to a cushy and wasteful lifestyle? Will I be able to stop my inbred materialism before it gets the better of me? Questions such as this put me in an ackward position. On one hand, I want to do the right thing for the environment and society by leaving my materialist lifestyle behind and donating my time and money towards reform and peace movements. On the other hand, I want to succeed in our society and have an easy life. At this point, I feel I could choose either and be relatively suited for success. Home greets me with open arms and I sulk into my bedroom where I throw myself onto a large, expensive bed with a down comforter. My coat is left on my Pier One nightstand. Blindly, I fumble for the remote and switch on my Sony television, flipping through a number of the 500 channels I receive via satellite. I close my eyes. I need to escape.
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