December 2002 Archive

I resolve not to make stupid amorphous and immeasurable new years resolutions that I’ll forget in 32 minutes.

I resolve instead to write down and set real, measurable, and atainable goals with action plans and steps to complete tasks & etc.

As soon as I find some paper. And the right pen to write down those goals. And someone to help me plan this shit out. And a planner for these goals. And maybe a nice white board. And someone to keep me accountable but not nag me about any of thse goals… Yeah.

Like you’re any better. Jerk.

How do you fit into a single post what you want to say that summarizes your year? Better yet, how do you summarize the joy and laughter brought to you in the last 24 hours. I can but try my best.

I went to bed after a marathon free association session last night with the GID.(Guy I’d been dating… note past tense) Not Ernie’s, but my own. What? You say? You’d never heard of me having a GID? Well, yes, accidentally or very consciously, I do keep secrets from you. It’s a sin of omission, can you please forgive me?

Sometimes brainstorming sessions lead you to have vivid dreams and with the sound of rain pounding down on the skylight over my head, the dreams were rich, and terrifying, and liquid blue all at the same time. I awake this morning, typing in bed, feeling weary and ready to shed the last year like a snake who’s outgrown her skin. S.M. aka Shagadelic aka London boy whom I spent Saturday with, asks me how my outlook is for the new year. As ever, I respond that I anticipate it to be better than the year before. * Note of clarification, GID is not S.M. or London Boy. London Boy (minus some minor quirks like 8000 miles distance and a burden of stress) is the GIWMD (Guy I wouldn’t mind dating).

Each year, as I take it, is the best year of my life. I look forward to the year that starts off tomorrow as it will be, without doubt, the best year of my life. This year, has been both challenging & stupendous. There were boy issues, hormonal issues, spiritual issues. There was getting employed, and wild travels to destinations like SXSW(Austin), NY, Austin & Dallas, Livonia, Toronto, Los Angeles. There has been work drama, lay offs, and professional growth. There has been dating frenzies, multiple crushes, and soul bruising. There have been late night talks, snuggles and comfort, fierce flirtations, and crying quietly into one’s eggs. There has been loneliness and social saturation. There has been thousands of miles of driving. (15000 miles on the new car since June. Miles from Detroit to Toronto. Miles from Oakland to Tahoe for snow. Miles from SF to LA. Miles from Austin to Dallas. etc).

There has been a quest for justice after seeing injustice first hand. There has been anger. There has been lots and lots and lots of laughter. There have been music and more music and more music lathing my little mind with comfort and rage. There have been drag queen shows and performance artists and theatre. There has been gratuitous shopping. Not to be omitted or overstated is the fact that I got over my 3+ year celibacy hump. There have been weddings and babies and the dreams/wishes/promises of baby’s to come. And there have been deaths too. Yes, and this is all ok. This is good. This is honest and pure and palpably real. This is life in a year.

In the last 24 hours, what have I done? Nothing more than life at it’s best. Meeting new friends, talking trash, eating well, drinking strong drinks, and yelling at rude waitstaff. So a usual Monday night? Something like that.

I picked up Jhames yesterday afternoon and we grabbed a coffee and walk about in the Castro prior to sitting down for a charming lunch of Thai. I then dropped his diesel swathed ass in the Haight as he quested forth for his hoodie. After a few weak hours at work where the pace is akin to postal workers on your lunch break, I left to join Jhames, now with Vince in tow, at Ghiradelli square for luscious hot chocolates. I understand that he sent dirty emails from the kiosk to Frankie. Love ya hoe cakes.

The conversations about spirituality and personal accountability still stir within my belly. V. good talks.

We then touted our asses over to dinner at a cult inspired restaurant of some sort. Samosas all around as well as trash talk a-plenty.
In company: Aaron, Cheyenne, Hoopty, Michael, Vince, Jhames (of course) Ernie, . For drinks & dessert afterwards, we lost Chey & Hoopty to family emergency and were joined by Robbie & Robert.

I have cute pix of us all which will be posted soon. I’m just a wee bit too lazy right now. Did I mention that I’m blogging from bed?

My description of these peeps cannot be generous enough. They are funny, charming, intelligent, witty, and kind people with glowing spirits that warm you through and through. And let’s not forget that they’re also blazingly hot. Hot.

Why must God punish me so to have me be so bedazzled and charmed by this crew of men that, were they straight, I’d likely reject (going back to that whole “white boys don’t do it for me thang”, but since they’re gay and I can’t have em, I can’t get enough of their company. Oh why? Cruel world! Haha.

I’m having a highschool crush flashback on Aaron though. He reminds me too much of a very wonderful boy from my younger days whom I adored. *Adored*.

Highlight of the evening? Watching Jhames get ready to throwdown some shit on Cheyenne and barely restrain the beast of bitchiness within. It’s kind of like watching Bruce try to hold back the hulk. “Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me if I was angry. Biyatch, oh no you di’int” Photos and maybe movie to come soon.

Hung out with Jhames this early afternoon & dropped him off in the Haight to say howdy-ho with my pal Annie.

Bloggers…as far as the eye can see.

Tee hee.

Handwriting Analysis vs. Blogging Analysis.

Years ago, I’d glanced through a book on handwriting analysis. There are tell tale signs of a person who is a liar when they write (liars hesitate while writing yet their writing hand continues to move a bit forward…so if there is noticeable space between one part of a sentence and the next, odds are that a mistruth might be tucked in there), those that behave immaturely/childishly (large loopy “O” and “L”), those that are dreamers (crossing their “T” high), and those that are forever stuck in the past (words angle leading leftwards…or they may be lefthanded). It was a handy cocktail party trick and on occasion I’d use it to impress freshmen while at UM. Granted, impressing freshmen isn’t really that hard, but I digress.

I consider some of these same elements to be transmutable in evaluating/stereotyping (yes, stereotyping) the personalities of individuals based on their blog designs and stylesheets vs the actual content of their site.

Some evaluations are obvious but I find myself, almost dismissively evaluating websites based upon a few key elements.

#1. Domain/Hosting: Terrible of me, but I tend not to take any blog seriously that is hosted off of geocities. Higher in my esteem are those on Xanga or blogspot. Lower are those on diaryland or livejournal. Consider it domain ownership snobbery but I don’t think I’m the only one who does this. I confess that my own journal used to be on clunky Homestead. I’d like to believe I’ve moved on up. Even though this design, itself, is ass.

#2. Color Palate: Obviously the dark grey font on black background with red links gives me the distinct vibe that this person could probably use a little bit more vitamin c.

#3. Font Size: Like in handwriting analysis, the smaller fonts give the impression of higher intelligence or temperament/care with word choice/content. Unfortunately, five times out of ten, this is misleading and the author, in spite of clean design and small font choice, may be a total asshole.

#4. Image: Choice/Size/Placement. Consider me a snob. A large photo of your cat in a sweater & apron at the top of your page and taking up 70% of the screen will not compel me to read further about your life in Omaha. I’m sorry. I know how vicious that is of me to tell you.

#5. Information architecture: Granted, we get all a bit cookie cutter on how we organize information, however some reasonable organization is a gentle request by readers to see if you’re A.sane; and B. worth reading.

#6. Links list: The company you keep speaks about you. Linking to AzNSeXKiTtN82 is *slightly* less impressive than linking to Zeldman. If you’re *into* that. And while not necessarily subscribing to the whole notion of “A-Listers” or not, a community of like minded individuals are easily identifiable from the link-hoing that is akin to a Mohawk in the Hamptons.

Least important, to me at least, is if a site uses Blogger, GreyMatter, Moveable Type, or some other independently developed content system.

And hey, it’s still only a cocktail party trick. Everything I say is a latent, ugly, and vicious lie and should never *ever* be taken seriously. Heaven knows, *I* never take myself seriously. And with that I announce…

That I will start thinking about a redesign. I’m well overdue and am rather inspired by Kristin’s new site (as designed by Tom Cosgrave).

The paparazzi reveal Ariel Meadow in various stages of drunkenness.

Lovely and after sipping on 1 apple martini

Embarking on the following tequila shot

I rather think we look dewy here.

After the drinks kick in. (Note Tummy rubbing and comforting pats on the head by lovely Meg)

And then the aftermath.

Let that be a lesson to you all. Friends don’t let friends drink Tequila (and mix it with other drinks). You are now returned to your regular broadcast.

Who was I kidding?

I thought I wouldn’t blog at all this weekend. After all, I’m traveling. I’m in LA. I’m preoccupied with visiting with good folks and a wedding, right? But apparenlty, I’m a serious crack addict when it comes to blogging. I’m staying with the lovely & effluvious Ariel Meadow. and she’s been a lovely hostess.

The drive down was uneventful. Too much of the drive smells like shit, that’s for sure…and not just Coalinga whom Ariel refers to as Cowshwitz for being the slaughter town as it is. Had tea and chats with her and a lovely Intl. Man of Mystery (an ol’ pal of mine who on occasion goes also by the alias of London Boy or Shagadelic). Today he was my guest for a wedding with a grand college gal pal of mine. It was a lovely, charming, and sweet (if slightly proseletyzing) Korean Christian wedding. Reception w/ Buffet of extreme Korean food included, of course.

Ariel & I are now off for hula hooping adventures. Hurrah!

Tomorrow I go visit the tattoo princess, highschool friend whom I last saw in Oxford last year. Outstanding. Why I look forward to it/am slightly nervous re: it? Her extended family will be there and her sister-in-law->brother-in-law is in process of going through various hormone therapies. I think I was originally introduced to her/him as KiKi. Now by Rusell. Should be fun.

*grin*
Stay safe!

Mayfly Project.
Leave depression. Dump fool. Experiment. Get Job. Stress. Get Scammed. Revenge. New Car. Multiple Crushes. Booty. Mischief. Dragqueens. Heart. Snow.

Guess who spent their Christmas day driving to Tahoe and back to pick up a cooler full of snow? Go on. Guess! So that they could be the only house on the block (in Oakland, CA) with a snowman. You only get one try. No clues will be given.

Also.
There is nothing that makes me happier than watching this year’s Muppet Xmas special with Scooter dancing in a cage and Sam with glowsticks. Why, I’d sell my Stephen Hawkins’ signed Periodic Table for you anyday, my sweetums. (You gotta have seen it not to think I’m a crack head with these references). I’m rather sad I didn’t see more boomerang fish.

Muppets should maintain safe distance from the lovely Miss Champ, however. She likes to turn them into coats. See exhibit A. below.

That photo was taken from this past weekend’s Galaxy Girls show. Alas most of my photos from that evening came out terribly due to dim lighting. By the way, “Hi Derek“. Wouldn’t want you to feel dissed. Lance & I also laughed our asses off during the show.

We’re twins in cheesecake and shoe coordination. He tells me I must go skin my very own muppet (blue) and wear it about town. I’m considering it all fabu. In the meantime, I’ve purchased my own holiday gift. A buttery black lambskin leather jacket (3 button, 3/4 length). Inspired by Matrix posters apparently. But also pretty kick ass.

In other news.
I hate when my shoes are prophetic.

Merry Christmas to you all.

I feel completely blessed by the interactions/friendships/conversations etc that I’ve had with folks over the last year and I cannot thank you enough for gracing me with your light in my life.

I am humbled and I feel a love that I just want to shoot back to you all.
I radiate with it and it feels wonderful.

Peace to you, glad tidings, and joy.

I forgot to say…

Happy Birthday to lovely Leila & Jane.

Some pix from last week’s bday gathering for Leila where we skated in the rain.

We were going to go out for drinks for Jane’s bday this past saturday but alas, there was a minor calamity. Jane, get better soon, wontcha, gorgeous?

Holiday brunch mirror project pix.

And a few more from Kristin.

Can you tell today is slow for me? Marathon blogging.

Anyone besides me think that the posters for the new Matrix movie look like ads for DK or Armani or D&G’s leather jacket series from the winter of 2001? No? Ok. Just me.

Sometimes the hardest thing to accept is that you can’t get what you want.
Especially if it’s taken you a long time to admit that you really want something.

Busy Weekend

#1. Friday: Holiday party including the picking up of bouquets of mistletoe – 12 bunches.
“You know, this much mistletoe should pretty much guarantee orgasms, not just kisses”
“Especially if you’re holding them in your lap like that.”
“Who am I to argue”
“Should I wear a bunch on my hat?”
“How about on your belt buckle”
“Front or back?”
“And over the toilet? Kiss your ass goodbye?”
“Hot.”

#2. Saturday: Passing out Shoeboxes of Goodies
Just a bit of volunteer cheer. Felt pretty decent to do. I still lack in X-mas spirit though.

#3. Saturday Night: The company Holiday Party
I was diva’ed out like you wouldn’t believe. I warned coworkers to bring bandaids. For when their jaws drop to the ground after seeing me in my red satin Italian backless number, I would not be held responsible.

#4. Saturday Night: Part 2: … let’s just say, I went to bed not as happy as I would have wanted on a Saturday night.

#5. Sunday AM: Breakfast with a friend. My bacon was perfect. My eyes watered and my nose was runny. But I’m not sick.

#6. Sunday PM: Busy. Most likely catching a cold. V. preoccupied…er something.

#7. Sunday Eve: The most amazing holiday show with the Galaxy Girls. Hope that my photos turn out alright. Was happy to share the company of Heather, Derek, & Lance. Am… oddly comforted by the fact that another spiritual guide in my life is a lovely drag queen. I’m blessed. Really. And in some cosmic sort of way, it all makes sense. Everything does I suppose.

Some thoughts on the Holidays.
* I want to see snow. Almost desperately. I just don’t want to be in a car stuck behind the ass driving wussy California drivers when it happens.
* 28 years and running strong; not dating anyone during any major holiday/birthday or manufactured holiday such as Sweetest day.
* I’m trying my best not to be bitter or angry…but the world sometimes is making me
* Between sanity & happiness, I’d choose happiness. But I guess sanity will have to do.
* I’m glad that the holidays are slow and all, but was it worth crawling out of bed for?
* I’m the best Xmas shopper for me. Makes up for the fact that I’m not a big gift giver/getter.
* I suppose I could take the slowdown to get some writing done… or catch up on old projects. The motivation is weak, sadly.
* All I wanted was that right person for that new years kiss.

My brother called me the other day to ask me what I wanted for Christmas. Since I’m not working in the mall this year, the holiday season has kind of crept up on me unexpectedly. My brother, my fabulous brother. My older brother who has plans to trump me yet again in showering my dearest cute father with gifts this year. My brother the perfect one. The diligent one. The married one. The older brother who makes slightly more money than god. The older brother who has always been charming and boojie. I don’t have insecurity issues though, really. After all, we both agree that I’m the smarter (though lazier) of the two of us, and I got all the rhythm too.

He asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I …blanked… out.

I have a roof over my head, good enough.
I have a new car which I purchased for myself in May, good enough.
I have a decent wardrobe which I’ve tried to inject a little more funk into this year, good enough.
(My gawd, I have to post pictures of my most adorable red shoes and my funktastic hat and spiked wrist warmers, etc.)
I have made it to the eye doctors and gotten myself new glasses, good enough.
I have plenty of music in my life with an obscene # of mp3s, good enough.
I have a computer which is still alive, serves me well, and supplies me with what I need, good enough.
I have a digital camera which I purchased for myself earlier in the year that is still more powerful than I’ll ever need, way more than good enough.
I have traveled happily to visit friends and loved ones, best of all.
I actually have money in my bank account for a rainy day, amazing considering last year’s complete despondent depression from unemployment, very good…

And so what do I really need, or want?
I wonder if I’ve made a step towards nirvana because I’m not really *wanting* anything with any particular hunger, these days.
I have the love of my family, v. good.
I have the affection & compassion of good friends, v.good.
I feel relatively secure and comfortable with my life and my lifestyle, v.good.
I feel God still close to me, even at my crankiest, especially when I’m at my worst, best.

After a moment of fumbling with ideas of what I should answer, I considered this…
My stepsister of the last 6 years is a woman whom I’ve never met. I got her holiday card in the mail the other day and was thinking that I am a miserable lazy lout with a lack of holiday spirit since I never send out cards or greetings. She’s getting married next year. My brother’s never met her either.

“Can you promise that we’ll all go to B’s wedding next year?”
“She’s engaged?”
“Yeah. She’s getting married next November. Tampa.”
“How do you know this?”
“Christmas card. Save the date.”
“Um, K.”

And really, that’s pretty much all I need for Christmas.
I’ve bought my one holiday gift of the year for my Dad. My brother expects nothing from me. He’s used to me being the poor and thoughtless one in the family. I think most of my friends are too as I’m lazy and despise crowds if it’s an effort to show that I care for people. Don’t I do enough of that all year round? I’d like to believe that I do, but perhaps next year I’ll make a little more effort.

I’ve said it before. Christmas just doesn’t’ feel like Christmas anymore without my Mom around. I guess that back then, the family would all be squabbling in the livingroom as we put up the artificial tree, decorated with lights & ornaments that we purchased from KMart back in 1980 when we first moved into our home. There would be snow. There would be feasting. We’d argue over the remote control. We’d eat. We’d nap. We’d open our presents from each other without ceremony. Piecemeal. Pretty much as soon as we got home from the store. Sometimes we wouldn’t even wrap them. We’d go to mass together and make fun of the parents at our church who every year, would try to top the production/play of the year before. My brother & I would fall asleep as the church choirs, dressed in black & white and representing each suburb in the Greater Detroit Area, competed with each other.

Have you ever heard 6 hours of “In Excelcis Deo” in a thick Korean Accent?

It’s only entertaining for the first 5 minutes. Maybe.

Mass would be long, and in Korean. We’d pinch each other to try & stay awake. We’d go home. We’d pray. And that was Christmas.

Do I miss it? Yes & no. To some degree, maybe I never really had the Christmas spirit in the first place, so what is there to miss? I never believed in Santa. Though no one told me this, I always assumed that Santa was only for white kids and not me. We never laid out cookies for him. Carols were a chore and I’ve never enjoyed singing them (6 hours of “In Excelsis Deo” is probably to blame) and the lights, the shopping, the presents, the traditions…well…they all seemed pretty contrived and lame. To much degree, I still think they are.

The roommate got me a present. Gave it to me yesterday. Lacking wrapping paper, it was enfolded in a Vanilla Coke cardboard & taped with duct tape. It’s cute. I asked him if I should open it or wait until Christmas. “What do you mean?” “I dunno. This might be my only Christmas present this year” Dad got me a blanket but he bought that in March…got it over thanksgiving. It wasn’t wrapped, and that’s fine. “Open it. I’m sure it won’t be the *only* thing you get”. “Sure.”

We watched Ice Age last night and that made me smile from the inside out. And it’s not even Christmas. But maybe that’s ok.