Fairy Tale or Fairly Tale?

I told myself I would not write about certain aspects or people on this blog, but I'm at a breaking point. I'm a screeching tea kettle on the verge of erupting in a China shop. I'm all the goddamned cliches mixaphorically rolled into one.

I was starting to believe that the fairy tales we learned in grade school were incomplete. For example, in Three Little Pigs, I believe there was a house built of something stronger than brick that not even an army of big bad wolves could puff away. That house was built of denial. And if you have ever secured yourself behind such walls, my friends, you know ain't nothing outside gonna bring them down.

Thus is the "fairly tale" of my recent life. I have a friend whom I greatly suspect is something more than heterosexual but doesn't realize it. But that is not really the issue, no. The true "Gays of Our Lives" twist is that I am smitten for him. That's right, I'm pining away over an ambiguously straight guy that I think may like me but not fully know it. Good god, I finally got it out in a public forum, and it cannot look more pathetic than in print. So the logical segue from this admission is, "Tell me Chris, who is the one in denial here?"

That's right, I'm throwing stones from my glass house stocked with China and a single glass slipper dangling from my left foot. When shall my prince in waiting-to-come-out-of-the-closet rescue me? Surely at the eleventh hour.

Despite all the comedy, this is really a tragedy of my own making. I don't need to read ahead in the script to realize how I've set myself up for the big letdown. The G.I. Joe lesson to learn is that I cannot force what isn't there. I cannot force what isn't ready to happen. Like I try to tell myself, if he truly is gay or bisexual or whatever, he will come to terms in the fullness of time. And I cannot wait it out in my tower with baited breath. I cannot get my hopes up that the magic kiss will wake me from this sleeply daze.

This is all very logical, and at that level I get it. But logic and emotion are not always compatible languages. Logic does not reside in the chambers of the heart. Perhaps our hearts are lined with a sheath of denial and won't let logic break in and corrupt them. Perhaps we have to open our hearts from inside and let go of the emotions in order to listen to reason and let the denial fall away. I think that is the lesson I have to learn.

So now I know. And knowing is half the battle. The other half will come in the fullness of time.

Motivation is Cheap as Free

Wake up each day as if it was on purpose. Ask yourself of the daily hassles what's the worst that can happen. Find a way to experience being and non-doing. Laugh early. Laugh often. Find balance in all pursuits. Learn something new every day. Fall down six times, stand up seven. Expect greatness from yourself and others -- hold everyone to it.


I was eating lunch today with Dimitria and Sylvia while talking about all manner of things. Dimitria mentioned that she is the ever-willing wedding crasher, but not in the same sense as these guys. Rather, she is willing to call off a wedding if either the bride or groom gives her the knowing look of "get me the hell outta this!" She said she'll easily go up to the front and announce the show is over, but a disaster was called off, so let's celebrate that recognition at the reception. Love ya, Dimitria!

So it got me thinking about this being a full time job. Remember Will Smith in Hitch? How he would prepare a single person for the perfect date and a chance at happily ever after? I think Dimitria should become his counterpart in relationship unraveling. That's right, Dimitria is Ditch! Mull it over a tick.

Let's all sit back and be honest -- happily ever after may easily come in the form of a dodged relationship bullet. I've known a few people who walked down that aisle with crossed fingers, a heavy heart, and plenty of booze at the open bar afterward. It's not until later they realized "What the fook did I did!?"

A world with Ditch is a Get Out of Jail Free card. No more "it's not you, it's me" or "we are both in different places." Ditch knows what to say and how to say it. "It's been real, we'll look back and laugh on this later, so long, and thanks for all the fish."

Tread carefully, Hitch, for your opposite number has joined the love fray.


A smith is someone who works at something specified. You should all know about the locksmith, the blacksmith, The Lucksmiths, and even The Poopsmith...we'll take this information as fact. However, I have recently come to embrace a "smith" you may not be acquainted with. This smithery of mine seems to be in creating new and strange words. And for those of you who know me well, this shouldn't be a shock. It's only this past week, though, that I've taken on the self-proclaimed title of Wordsmith and made it my own.

For the naysayers and side-eyed skeptics, I offer some of my creations as exhibits:

- Halterbum (HALL-ter-BUM) 1. a vagabond or miscreant. 2. a whippersnapper lacking couth.

- Nickergrousse (NICK-er-GROUS) 1. see halterbum.

- Casholene (CASH-oh-LEEN) 1. money. 2. tight, yo. Origin: derived from cash and gasoline, for something to be casholene, it must be wicked hella cool. For example, you could say, "Man, that bling of your is casholene!"

Fauxmosexual (FOH-mo-SEX-ooh-all) 1. a gay man that is not very gay. Origin: some gay men don't know Prada or Manolo Blahnik, Bette Midler, or interior design. These men are fauxmosexuals.

See also: Fasian, Flatino/a re: fake ethnicities.


C3PO (um, you know this one so no phonetics) 1. a robot in the Star Wars saga. 2. an acronym that means being fly -- Cool, Calm, Collected, Professional, and Organized. To be fluent in over six million forms of chill.

Fauxship (FOH-ship) 1. Sometimes, you just want to go out with someone for the free meals, companionship, and some action. It's not a real relationship or anything.

Mauish (MAOW-ish) 1. to operate with undue caprice. 2. devil-may-care demeanor. 3. foot-loose and fancy-free. Origin: a student of mine (John Mau) was often spotted moseying around campus without a care in the world. He was being Mauish, thus unknowningly forming his own ethos toward life, leisure, and whatever.


And anyone named Allison who dares contend me on the first two items for co-creating rights...well...you just meet me behind Poelking Lanes by the dumpster at 4:00 a.m. and we'll fight fancy. Start without me.

Sounds of Silence

A clock ticks
A cricket chirps
A man in the back of the room coughs once
A tumbleweed rolls through a ghost town
A chair creaks
A clock ticks

These are the sounds that should accompany this website. There is no water in the well. My brain has turned to salt. Will my rusted creativity survive the duration of this dry spell?


iRant: Modern Moats and the Center of the Universe

Prepare yourself for an aimless diatribe of diatriblical proportions, my reader(s)! I cannot promise coherence, but my rantings typically garner a laugh or two. Stick around.

First off, I coined the phrase iRant simply cuz I can. Let's face it, with everything being "My Computer" or "My Documents", iPod, build-your-own sandwiches, and even MySpace, it's all about me. And what country has a firmer grasp of individualistic self-indulgence than America? And no, I don't feign any piety in this matter, guilty as charged. Moving forth...

Modern moats. In olden days, moats were defensive measures that any fief lord with a ducat of sense would dig around his castle. Quite simply, it kept an unwanted person from getting from point A to point B. Nowadays, we have our alarm systems, locks (we love you Kryptonite, but why did the Bramah fade away?), and if you are rich, a body guard. I'm not so interested in these modern moats. No, my rant is with cities and their growing accesibility issues. Particularly, poorly planned, poorly constructed, poorly utilized cities like...oh, let's see, Champaign-Urbana!!

As the famous addage goes, you can't get there from here. And if all roads truly lead to Rome, I think the dirt track from C-U never quite found it's way. If it isn't the slowest drivers in the world, it's the numerous streets without passing lanes (and no dedictated turn lanes, too). Or it's the critical mass of street lights. Or it's building the only shopping district in one corner of town so everyone can get there from only a few places. Then there are those parking lots where you think, I can cut across and bypass the traffic. Not having it. Because you all have encountered these parking lot mirages before. The two lots next to each other DON'T LINK THE FUCK UP TOGETHER!!! And why should they, right?

I feel sorry for Urban Planners. They absorb all this education and research and data. They go out into the world to make a difference. But they are only really advisors. And like any advisor, you can whisper into the ear of the idiot on the throne, but you don't make any decisions. And trust me, C-U hasn't really listened to their Urban Planners, if they even employ them. Yeah yeah, I get it. There are two different city governments to contend with. You have Champaign, that is making worthy strides in revitalization, progression, and building a commerce base. But it can only do so much...because there is Urbana. Who seems to think that corporations are evil, hippies rule, and doing nothing will somehow lead to progress. As Dr. Phil bluntly puts it, "How's that working for ya?"

As a resident of Urbana, I can tell you it kinda sucks on our side of town. I think the term "anchor store" has been around for a while. You know, drop in a chain store and it attracts other businesses, particularly small local businesses? You know, otherwise, the tax base it too high and the incentives for the little guy and gal aren't really there? Or no one is drawn to that location? Am I preaching to the choir? And yeah, I don't pretend to know much about economics, but from what little I know and hear, this seems to make sense.

And I get that Urbana is trying to be a liberally-minded, recycle and organic friendly, non-corporate place to live. I respect that to an extent...it we didn't live in the middle of no where!! Besides this town, there ain't nothing out here folks. Except smaller towns. MUCH SMALLER TOWNS! Indy, Chicago, and St. Louis are all 2-3 hours away. Perhaps the small town local friendliness can be saved for a burb of a big city like Chicago. Which brings me to my second rant...

Center of the Universe. In olden days, Claud Ptolemy told us that, yep, Earth was the center of the universe. Then Nick Copernicus came along and was all like, whatevah! You're living in the past! The sun is front and center, dude! And then The United State of America came along and was the center of the universe. Now, many US citizens think they are the center of the universe. And in Illinois, pretty much everyone here (especially from N. Illinois) believe Chicago is the center of the universe. I mean, is there anything in this world better than Chicago? It has to be great because, you know, it's huge. And they have Oprah.

Nevertheless, I got some mind to speak. Residents of Chicago and it's infintely sprawling burbs, I issue to you a call to reason. There is a whole world out there. Soon, we'll own most of it. Until then, you can withdraw cash from your trust fund and visit it. Guess what, they use the same currency in all the states in our Union. And if you travel to locations non-America, you can exchange your money with local currency. No joke. So go check out the world. It's pretty cool.

Finalizing this iRant. To put a conclusive point on the debate, we know the center of the universe is really a big black hole. At least we think it is. In review, it seems we have many possible centers based on what we've explored here today. Mayhap, the moral is that in an infinite universe, there can be an infinite number of centers. How can you determine the center of everything known or knowable that is never ending? (cue mind explosion)

And if the center is indeed a black hole, that nicely describes my opinion of the urban planning of our fair cities of Champaign and Urbana. It sucks. And even though I realize there are budgets, infrastructure, constituencies, and laws at play, I don't give city leaders any slack. That's what they signed up for. It isn't easy...only ranting about it is easy. But I can do that because I am the center of my universe. Just ask me.

Feeling Free to Freely Associate

I found a writing from a while back that came from a mysterious part of my mind. I was writing an email to a friend and these words started to flow as quickly as I could write them. I thought I'd share. Just cuz.

When I was in second grade, I remember these paper houses I used to make. I'd cut out beds, toilets, walls, couches, cabinets, the whole floor plan represented by construction paper and Elmer's glue. I can still smell that sour glue, see the orange ridged cap with dried-up residue stuck in the grooves. For some reason, I brought those houses to school and constructed them in class. I don't quite recall how I got away with that, but you'd better believe kids nowadays have a much more rigid curriculum. Progress....makes me ill. I can still see the cafeteria and the milk carton pencil holder with my name on it, perched on the corner of my desk. It's bizarre. I stole books, but returned them. I read them at night under the covers with a flashlight. We listened to Rainbow Bright records in class. I can hear the song, sing the lyrics. A classmate told me that he already saw Back to the Future 2, even though it didn't hit the screens for another year or two. I knew it for a fib. Third grade seemed so scary. The hallway had an eerie feeling to it, as if it would consume me in division with remainders and cursive writing. I had a blue school bag with red trim. It had two buckles on it. My school box had the Presidents on it. It ended with Ronald Reagan. Who was President Filmore, anyway? Garbage Pail Kids consumed my life. The package of cards with the hard gum was like a treasure chest. Maybe you could complete the series - just one more card. My parents got divorced. My dad cried the day he left our townhouse. I don't remember if I did. My nickname at home was Tiffider...it's how I used to say my own name. I made forts out of sheets and pillows in my bedroom like it was nobody's business. The bookmobile always made me giddy. I drank grape Mr. Misty's and ate Nerd's candy...even the cereal. I had a preschool admirer who gave me envelopes with stickers on them. I ignored her and made her cry. My teachers believed in me. I had a dream that I could sit on a frisbee and fly. Maybe I can.

Legging it in the arms race

Recently I've been forced to reflect on the idea of one-upmanship. It's been part of my external world -- during the Super Bowl today, Gillette revealed a solution to a problem that doesn't exist -- FIVE BLADES on a razor! I mean, seriously. I realize the value of a close shave, but do you have to take a layer of epidermis with it?

I want to invent a new product called Occam's Razor, and in the true spirit of William of Occam, plainly state as he did...that "one should not increase, beyond what is necessary, the number of entities required to explain anything." In other words, ONE BLADE IS QUITE SUFFICIENT!!

A lot of people got paid to create this ridiculous product, I'm just saying...

Back to my original thread of the "arms race" going on around me -- I came to an understanding that my lack of updating this website recently was fostered by my own internal struggle with one-upmanship. I have been focusing so much on following up a solid post with something equally powerful that it shut me down. Call it a case of writer's block, but I psyched myself out by thinking every piece of writing on here had to be (what I considered) top-notch.

It's difficult to maintain a creative streak because for me, it comes and goes. Prolific one week, a dearth the next. I think I'm at a point now where I can recognize that and not force something that isn't there at the moment or try to make everything perfection. Things don't work out that way.

So, instead of concocting my equivalent of the five-blade razor, I will continue forward, like a single blade, doing what I can with what I have.