A Beaucoup of Beaus

I got an email from Ted earlier in the week. He was inviting me to a Saturday brunch with him. The invite was random, but I figured what the heck. I responded back and figured we'd work out the details. Thursday night came around, so I rang him to confirm our plans. We began chatting about ideas for location and time - everything going normally. Then I mentioned that I know someone he knows and doesn't like very much. Somehow, he immediately knew it was Martha Poppins.

[Back Story] Martha Poppins is this guy Foster and I know. He's a fairly nice guy, good looking, but also very into himself. He's a self-professed label queen (i.e., only premier brand named apparel will do) and worships Martha Stewart. Only shops at Williams-Sonoma. Looks down at people who are not dressed to impress. In short, a snob. His parents give him whatever he wants. He's a grad student who lives better than I do. He wanted to get his mother a cashmere water bottle cover. Yes, I'm serious.

He invited Foster and me to a dinner party he was hosting - this guy went all out. The food was phenomenal, but he made us pass everything to the right around the table, and even though he had an inadequate knife to slice the roast (Williams-Sonoma, here he comes), he refused to cut it "against the grain" because that was improper. And he never looked like he was having fun - meanwhile, Foster, the Roommate, and Two Other Friends had a great conversation. Martha runs out to get the 409 and spray down the table while we're still there chatting. Busy body. Foster and I joked that he had white gloves and a carpet bag, making sure things were practically perfect in every way. Thus, Martha Poppins was conceived.

Ted and Martha know each other and as it turns out, don't like each other. So I mentioned this to Ted on the phone, and he's going on about how Martha is self-centered and doesn't think other people exist. Then he asks if I think Martha's attractive and did I sleep with him. He goes on about Martha not being attractive and how he doesn't even know me, blah blah.

I know several people that feel Ted's a selfish punk, too. So I say, "Well, some people would say the same thing of you." We always joke back and forth, no harm. Or so I thought. Ted immediately says, "Maybe tomorrow's not a good idea. I've had too much stress this week and don't need any more." Then he makes an inappropriate comment just to get back at me. Huh?

So I explain I wasn't saying I thought that, I meant other people have said that (i.e., Martha). He dismissed that, to which I said, think what you want, I have no reason to lie about it. Then he asked if I had life insurance (awkward joke) and said that he always feels on edge when he's around me. Hmm. News to me. I carefully reminded him that HE was the one who wanted to get together. Anyway, we called it off and I respectfully hung up with him. Good riddance to putting up with his insecurities. Not worth it.

The next day, Royfriend (a.k.a., Maybe Single Guy, Definitely Single Guy) calls me because he wants to hang out. Red flag! He tells me he has had a stressful week (red flag!) and finds that when we hang out, he feels more at ease (red fla...wait!). I put him at ease? LOL - I had to chuckle to myself. How odd to get opposite and news-breaking information about myself within a 24 hour period. I always assumed Royfriend found hanging out with me an exercise in ambivalence, given that we never have hit it off famously. Who knew? Not I.

"The same fire that softens the butter hardens the egg."

So Royfriend and I met up for lunch at a local bakery on Sunday. We were there for 4 hours, chatting about all kinds of things - men, living in this town, the next stage of life, moving away, etc. It was refreshing to hear him talk about wanting to reach his potential and do what he is passionate about. Taking risks. Living a life he wants. Not settling, even though it feels comfortable to be settled. How comfort leads to stagnation. I emphathize completely. Sometimes my routines make me feel sedentary and I wonder what experiences I miss out on. That's why I try to take them up as they present themselves. Break free of the familiar.

I think I am almost free of the Phantom Hitchhiker. Today the temperatures climbed above freezing and the snow banks are receding. Spring is peeking in on us. Change is in the air. Ready or not, here I come.

A Night Like No Other - Part 2

Before you continue, make sure you’ve read Part 1 of this tale…lest you be confoosed.

So we left off with everyone deciding to hoof it to the Gay Dance Club that will somehow be more comforting to Conflicted Jock. Crazy J is leading the way with a hot-foot, which I’m all about because I’m a speed walker. Slow pokes drive me nuts. Conflicted Jock is grumbling about going to the gay bar and Definitely Single Guy is giving me the knowing eye. Sheesh. Conflicted Jock asks why we’re walking so fast. Then, as if imbued with an articulation unbecoming of him, he asks, “Can you set more of a glacial pace?” Glacial? How metaphorical for Jock. I was taken aback by his words. Crazy J gave him some sass and continued his river rapids rush.

First off, I love how this club stamps you for drinking age. If you are under 21, you are stamped as a “bottom.” If you are 21 or over, you are stamped as a “top.” Don’t you love it!? Cheeky!

Let me preface this entire thing with a historical fact – I NEVER see anyone I really know here. I’ll notice people from around, but never do I run into friends or acquaintances. Also, I NEVER get hit on here, except a few times by one random barney. I’m not trying to be all “I’m too cool” but it’s the truth. The one socially awkward guy seeks me out (or has his sassy roommate do his dirty work – but that’s another story) and it gets weird.

Within seconds, I see my friend B-Dub and his boy, El Nino. We’ve always talked about going to Gay Dance Club together but never have. And we randomly ever go there, so what are the odds. I temporarily abandon my other peeps for my two boys. Intermittently, Crazy J stops by to “check in” with me about his status of being bad and misbehaving. Then off he disappears into the crowd. B-Dub introduces me to his friends from out of town. One is Social Guy who’s already met EVERYONE at the club. The other is his friend, Louis Vuitton (named so because B-Dub noted his Louis jacket (and not a swap-meet Louis either), which was otherwise lost on me. Could have been from Old Navy for all I knew). Eventually, DSG pulls me aside by the poker machines (no innuendo) to debrief me on some hoo-hah about Conflicted Jock’s behavior. He’s all upset by his weirdness. And dude is weird. It’s just a vibe you get around him.

Then I get pulled on stage to dance with Crazy J. And we’re being all dirrtay but in good fun. B-Dub, El Nino, Louis Vuitton and Social Guy join us on stage, and I make my rounds to dance with each of them. It felt surprisingly fluid to intermix with everyone, and not like that scene in Mrs. Doubtfire where she’s running back and forth between the tables at the restaurant. Well, and shockingly, no one was dressed like a woman there, except the women. Including the Three Hot Lesbians. How could I forget about them?

At one point I find myself next to Conflicted Jock, who’s all “How do you know everyone here? You have guys all over you.” And he’s not being condescending, more like intrigued and a bit bummed he’s not getting hit on. I try to explain what’s going on. And he’s like, “I hate gay people.” Say huh?

Confusedcious says, “Speak in dissonance and non sequitur.”

I try to spin it with “How can you hate gay people? You’re here with all these wonderful guys and your gay friends?” I can’t remember his response, but whatever. Dude’s chewed.

DSG pulls me aside again for another one-off debrief, this time about some guy he met online who was there, and was acting like he didn’t know him (or some blah blah), and something about his boyf being there and trying to assert his presence. Quite honestly, I blocked some of it out. And Conflicted Jock was lingering, probably thinking DSG was all talking about him. Just go find a dark corner and f**k each other already. You’re both driving me crazy.

Crazy J pulls me back on stage (this time on the elevated platform) for a more intense and suggestive bump-n-grind-fest. I play along because he’s beyond tipsy and I was having an already surreal night. As I’m coming off stage, I see someone I notice. She used to be a student worker in our college. I’m all, “hey!” She does a double-take and is like, “Oh my god! I can’t believe I’m seeing Army here!” She’s all stunned and says, “So you’re gay?” “Yep. You didn’t know?” She’s all, “I need a moment.” LOL We chat for a while and that eventually melds into some freaky-like dancing. Crazy J comes over to hang on me and says something to Stunned Student. I can tell SS is tipsy and her friend eventually pops up behind her to escort her home. Before leaving, SS hugs me and is like, “Wow, Army. You know I would have f**ked you.” SAY HUH!? LOL – This night is cracking me up!

I turn around and B-Dub is there smoking a cigarette and sipping booze. Smokes and drinks. I pause with shock. I’ve NEVER seen him smoke or talk about it or anything. I’m all “Who ARE you???” He tells me he only smokes randomly when he’s drunk. I’m like, “Your name is changing to Suddenly Smoking Guy!” El Nino had apparently given him a nicotine clearance before going across the club to talk with the only other guy in town named El Nino (obviously not his real name, but suffice it to say, his real name is so rare I never heard it before).

Social Guy chats me up for a while about all sorts of stuff, and he tells me how he knew Conflicted Jock from a few years back and he was conflicted back then. Social Guy's all "he gives me the creeps!" Yeah, I dig, man. And as it turns out, a bit later I have one more heartfelt convo with Conflicted Jock. He confides that he wants a nice guy to "make love" with. Um, you want a guy now? You mean one of those gays you hate? He comments again on how all these guys are chatting me up and he’s by himself. He tells me it's his last night of being gay. I'm all, "What, are you on gay death row?" He says something else, and I’m getting this vibe that he’s insinuating something to me, but I wasn’t going there with him. Clearly his brain fog has kept him stuck at that crossroads on that Bi-Way.

As the evening comes to a close, all my storylines comes to a crazy climax. Crazy J propositions me. Outright. That was very surprising because even though we were getting jiggy, I didn’t get a sense he was into me. And as Crazy J’s driving hard to get me into his bed, DSG tells me he needs to drive Conflicted Jock home so he can put this night to bed. And Crazy J is making a strong case with the ultimatum “now or never.” Seriously. And B-Dub is there to back him up, saying if he wasn’t with El Nino, he’d take up his offer. Some friend! And it’s nothing to do with Crazy J because he is cute. But I just don’t roll that way, especially with someone who’s drunk. I know I’ve disappointed some of my friends with that statement (you know who you are!), but my Mom would be proud!! LOL

So I explain it to Crazy J, DSG is practically tapping his foot and his watch, Conflicted Jock is looming, and Social Guy swoops in to ask me not to leave. What’s going on? Louis Vuitton suddenly siddles up to me (with whom I’ve said basically nothing that night) and asks, “Are you leaving?” As I’m being pulled out the door, Louis adds, “Do you need a ride home?” LOL - What kind of Twilight Zone have I fell into?? All these men driving hard to jump on me… it was like running the gay gauntlet. Was it a full moon on Saturday? It was flattering, but also quite disorienting. What was going on? Was it all that brain-rattling music and dim lighting?

Whatever it was, the man drought turned into a Noah-style man flood! And despite the man-handling, I left man-less. By choice. It was truly a surreal time. And I have to admit, the attention was kinda nice. I’m still perplexed by it all, as I do not see myself as someone that guys openly hit on. Especially from my past experiences.

Conflicted Jock, DSG, and I all chat on the way back and a bit more tension ensures between those two. DSG is bad with directions, so I play navigator. Along the way, we find Bliss Street, and I have a thought. This night was blissful. It felt fun and good, and I was very pleased I didn’t decide to be a homebody again. Once Conflicted Jock was returned to his Mom’s (hee hee), DSG confides his attraction for Jock is gone, replaced by frustration. We debrief a bit more and part ways. Yeah, he's clearly ONLY a friend to me. He's still too much into himself and too much of a control freak. And to come from me, THAT'S saying something. I wish I could share DSG’s better nickname with you all, but I want to keep his real name anonymous.

I call B-Dub (Suddenly Smoking Guy) when I get home to debrief about the evening. He tells me that Social Guy really likes me, and I can’t help but laugh. Join the club! I thought more about the night as I washed the ink off my hand and the smoke from my body. Confidence and extroversion are powerful. They can tip the scales in social settings, making you seem more attractive and approachable. Because I met so many new people and familiar faces, it was a combination that drew me out of my otherwise isolated social self. As a psychology major, I already knew of these concepts, but it feels different when it happens to you. I didn’t realize how powerful it could be. I should have remembered my hero, Albert Bandura!

After all is done, I have no regrets. Well, maybe I should have went with Crazy J. Then I would have had a Part 3 to report... That'll have to be for another night, another post.

A Night Like No Other - Part 1

The night started with a call from Definitely Single Guy (formerly known as Maybe Single Guy). After a few previous hang-outs, I decided he was just a friend, even though he is attractive and has brilliant brown eyes. Too many weird hang-ups, and I don’t just mean how our telephone conversations ended.

He invited me out for a night with his friends, and I decided I needed new material and a reason to reassess my homebody status. Little did I know exactly how the evening would fail to disappoint me! I arrive at DSG’s apartment, which is obsessively spotless. I’m ordered to remove my shoes in the entrance way. He’s blasting Tina Turner on his laptop while bustling around the apartment like a gal before the prom. Come to find out this ex-fling of his was joining us, and DSG still has the hots for him. Apparently, just like in our school days, this guy likes to play Hot and Cold with DSG. He likes me, he likes me not. I knew right then I was going to bear witness to an adult version of recess rife with innuendo, double meanings, and playful banter.

It's prefaced that this guy is big, muscular, and has a dumb jock thing going on. When he gets in DSG’s car, he immediately lives up to his preview. I didn’t find him that attractive, but I have niche appeal it seems, so he could have been attractive. He certainly had the beef cake thing going on. But a dead fish handshake… yikes! Interestingly, that was the least of his conflicted nature.

He’s also a sexual pile of rubble. If Jock had a guru to whom he would devote his life and mindfulness, it would be the sage Confusedcious. See, Jock is lost somewhere on the Bi-way from Straightstown to Gaysville. And he don’t got a map. Or a clue where he’s going. But despite all his lane changing, Jock is trying really hard to get to Gaysville – he just doesn’t fully know it.

We arrive at a local trendy bar for drinks and a meet-up with DSG’s friend Crazy J and his complement of Three Lesbians. When they arrive, I find to my surprise the Lesibans are all really hot! They were every straight man’s fantasy come true. Too bad we didn't have one in our Gaggle of Gays. Crazy J is quite funny, talking about how he’s going to get into trouble tonight. It’s clear he’s a regular in the bar scene, and I was just taking in his antics.

After a round, it's decided we will leave and go to the Gayest Non-Gay bar in town, which I like to call the Haven of Beautiful Men. This was where I would once again run into Thinny Kravitz. Though we made eyes a few times, nothing else came of it. I was too busy listening to Jock and DSG go back and forth, DSG touch him in all these playful and familiar ways, insinuate, and generally make me want to scream, “Just get it over with already!” But Jock was uncomfortable here because he works at the Haven of Beautiful Men and isn’t out at work. So he’s roaming around with killer ants in his pants… instead of DSG.

Before me is a sea of gorgeous men, far more than I thought could ever wash up on the shores of this land-locked town. For a minute I believe they are all plants shipped from exotic locales that could never grow locally. It was an o-gay-sis in a man drought. *pinch* Nope, not dreaming.

And in walks two Chris’s from the Chris Continuum. My friend Foster knows three grad students in his department named Chris, all of which I’ve met at their happy hours. He refers to them as Metrosexual Chris, Eurotrash Chris, and New Chris (whom I call F**king HOT Chris). They are all “straight” but Foster and I have very strong suspicions that Eurotrash Chris also follows the Book of Confusedcious. He makes more conflicted comments and passes at Foster than Ambiguously Straight Guy does at me. What is it with straight men these days? Pull yourselves together!

Anyway, Eurotrash Chris and F**king HOT Chris come in with other people I recognize from their department. I make eye contact with Eurotrash and purposefully look away. He’s going to get an earful from me soon because he keeps toying with Foster, and I don’t like him jerking my friend around like that, even if he's clueless about it. Tonight wasn’t the time.

But it all got better when I met my Evil Twin Susan! As soon as we were introduced, we hit it off, riffing back and forth like we were old friends. We decided that we would be each other’s evil twins because that’s what people drinking at bars come up with. Our repartee is interrupted by DSG who wants to leave because Antsy Conflicted Jock is driving him crazy. I scan the crowds once more for a chance encounter with Thinny Kravitz, but he's disappeared or turned sideways. With the Hot Lesbians and Crazy J leading the way, I ask about our next location.

I should have know... where else to take a sexually flustered boy than the Gay Dance Club! And that’s when my night truly began…

To be continued… Read Part 2 here.

Nice Day For A Why Wedding

So marriage in this country isn't exactly the sacred institution it was once thought to be. What has changed? Is it our reasons for marrying? Is it the ease and expectation of it all? Isn't it harder to get onto an airplane now than it is to get married? Did Dennis Rodman, Brittany Spears, Married by America, and My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance do it for you?

I wondered if marriage is the doomsday device I've often thought it to be. Because I don't believe in the institution, I believe in the two people who form their union together. Like any merger, it's a good idea if initiated for the right reasons. That's usually the whole love thing. But that isn't enough, is it? What about shared values, communication, and similar attitudes? If you think about it, that's what makes a business merger successful. If you do it just for profit, you end up like AOL and Time Warner -- continued operation doesn't equal success. And what is the marriage equivalent, you ask? Getting married because of children.

Which brings me to the Why Wedding I attended this weekend. Without going into a storied past, let's just say I work with Bride and from all accounts I've heard from her, Groom is a bum. He's done things that are simply unacceptable. Allegedly he's changed but whatever. I think the marriage is because they had a child. There was NO talk of a marriage prior to said birth. So this all brings us to the big question, "Why, oh why?"

I felt bad about not wanting to go, so I guilted myself into it. And I was too lazy to fabricate a modest excuse. So two coworkers and I decide to attend the best part of the wedding -- the reception. Which sounds like an ass thing to do, but here are the reasons:

1) Everyone in our office was directed to an invitation on the bulletin board -- we didn't even get a personalized card. It was an unvitation. A snarky question by a friend, "Were there little pull tabs at the bottom you could rip off?" LOL

2) Bride is truly just a coworker - not a friend or acquaintance. She's nice, don't get me wrong. There's just nothing more to it.

3) There are no freebies at the wedding ceremony.

4) This was a Why Wedding in which we didn't exactly support the union.

So we arrive and see Smartens and Rasmatic pull up. I'm all "Did you guys ditch the wedding, too?" Smartens is like, "No we went. There were only 20 or so people there." Cue the needle-across-the-record sound effect. We'd been had! Our absence was conspicuously so. In fact, we saw Bride and got what was either a crook-eye or stink-eye. Either way, we were on her pooh list. Maybe she'd think we were just there for the food, which is mostly true. Hey, we showed up to support this fauxship when no one else would, isn't that enough?

Let me just run down a few observations from this reception:

1) Groom and Bride barely interacted. Mostly during the coreographed events (like making the entrance, cutting the cake, the toast). Elsewise, he was elsewhere.

2) I thought I was down-dressed in my button-down collared shirt (untucked) and herringbone khakis... until Dude showed up in jeans and a tanktop (of undershirt quality). Suddenly I was quite dapper.

3) One of the pregnant bridesmaids was smoking. I repeat, the pregnant bridesmaid was smoking.

4) We formulated our exit strategy since we arrived, and finally organized an escape through the closest means of egress without even getting cake. Had to cut our losses.

I could tell you more, but then I'd just sound like a catty shrew. Instead I come off as a pompous, judgemental ass -- and I'm more comfortable in that role.

This whole experience got me thinking. As for gay marriage bans across the nation, perhaps it is a blessing to be spared such a fate. Because if two people love each other, they can easily live happily ever after without a marriage. Symbols are not guarantees. And if you think about it, a marital union is a kind of financial merger involving two partners. And as commercialism goes, marriage and divorce are really for-profit businesses, just like death and prison. And isn't funny that my mind immediately made that connection? I've said enough...

Only Whom Can Prevent House Fires?

You may recall that I work in a beat-down old house from yesteryear. With recent emergency response protocols being discussed on campus, JP the British Boss decides he will conduct a random fire drill -- LOL. I'm all for safety first, but I think we know about our exit routes. And being that our house is held together with ancient timber left over from Noah's era, I have full mind to hot-foot (in a most orderly fashion) out of that place because it will be eaten alive in flames. Unless the lead paint and asbestos tiles provide barrier protection. So JP send out an email to stay frosty that a fire drill looms on the horizon.


The Man Who Cried Drill

So one afternoon, I'm in the lobby chatting with Dimitria, and JP steps out and announces to us in an unauthoritative and somewhat side-comment-like way there will be a drill. So he goes over to the security alarm and sets it off. D and I share a look of "what's he doing over there" on our faces. Then he gets all excited and starts coaxing "Let's go, let's go! It's a drill!" No one is coming from the upstairs. And it's because he was testing that security alarm earlier that week, so no one paid it any mind. And it only went off for about 5 seconds, LOL. So D has to send an email to everyone with a subject heading "there's a fire drill. please evacuate now" or something like that. JP bounds upstairs to hustle out the top floor.

We start gathering across the street, making jokes about how the house should really be on fire. Then we're chanting "Burn! Burn!" while Sylvia has her student advisee with her. She probably thought we were crazy. Then JP comes out and is like "good job team, but we met up in the wrong place." He wants up to go NEXT DOOR in case of a fire. I told him, "I'm putting a street between me and a fire, not a 12 foot stretch of grass." It was all quite comical.

And bless his heart, JP tries to be on top of things. He made these signs to put up that direct people on evacuation during an emergency. Two things, though. 1) He found an image online of a medical cross with an arrow... but it always points to the right, even if the nearest exit is to the left, LOL. 2) It says "Find nearest means of egress" on it. JP, we live in the US! Americans don't know what "egress" means! Sylvia said she'd die in the fire because she'd read the sign and have to look up "egress" on her computer to find out what it meant.

Sorry Smokey, I think we let you down.


Fight Fires with Literacy

Foster and I are on our way to dinner one night and there's a fire engine, lights a-twinkle, in front of the Post Office. We slow as we approach so we can go around it. And all I see is a firefighter in full gear, reading a newspaper while leaning against the wall. No other activity. I found the image quite funny.

Nature and the Alien Boy

This past weekend, Vick and I took a trip up north for a bit of hiking. As nature likes to conspire against my family, we were of course greeted with rain. Almost every single time Vick visits me, it's raining or snowing. And this time around, it was not like, oh it's sprinking a bit. It was like, hey those two are nearing the park entrance, let's make it rain really hard now. Ok, they are disappointed and leaving the park, so let's bring it down to a drizzle. Oops, nearing another park -- step it up again! I think Mutha Nature was ticked because Vick is a better mother than She'll ever be. Jealous old biddy!

I guess She gave up on her game because at the second entrance to the third park in the area (we weren't giving up!), it slowed to a mere misty drizz. So onto the trails of nature we went. First off, I have to point out the signs at the park entrance because I love these warnings. First off, parks are so bossy, it's a wonder anyone goes there anymore. Don't do this, don't do that, adhere to this, blah blah. First off, why no booze between Jan and May? What kind of arbitrary randomness is that? I also love the dude Slip-n-Sliding down the mountain like he's on Jackass 2. And my favorite of them all, alien children are NOT allowed to swim here. Shame. They've come a long way for a dip, you heartless parks and rec bastards!

We wander off on this trail that is quite sludgy, and Vick is wearing brand new white tennis shoes. But she's a real state trooper, so nothing deterred her from communing with nature. And despite the disappointment in not being able to see more of the parks in the area, we experienced our moment of purpose. At one particular point on the hike, we came across a misty fog and stopped to enjoy the view. Then as if on cue, the sun peaked out of the clouds and created this beautiful array of light and dark, accentuating by the fog mingling around the trees. Fortunately, we both had two cameras (yeah that's right, we had our Sony Cybershots, my digital Kodak w/ 10x zoom, and Mom's Sony DSLR 10 megapixel hottie). These were my two best pictures from that surreal moment.

We almost got turned around coming back, but my superb manly sense of direction guided us back to safety. I wasn't about to ask a squirrel for directions! Then I "pushed" Vick down to the ground because I'm not to be trusted on hiking trips. When I was young, Lola took me to a nature reserve. She was trying to help me down this slippery rock staircase and lost her footing, breaking her ankle in the tumble. We continue to joke that I had pushed her down. After Mom had her slip, I told her she should have known better!

So I end this here story with a badly framed self-portrait. The others were blurry, so this is what we have to work with! I also choose to end with a moral -- if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain. Or in this case, if you want the sunlight passing through trees and fog in a surreal moment you tend to only witness in magazine photos, you have to put up with the rain. Somehow that doesn't quite roll off the tongue as well.

Spoken Word

This past week has been quite surreal. One of the residence halls on our campus is very much a center of all backgrounds of creative and expressive students. They frequently have guests-in-residence who are artists. This last week, their guest was Aya de Leon.

I had heard Aya perform on campus three years ago. Among other things, she mostly performs spoken word poetry, and she is amazing. I came across a schedule of events she was hosting this week and found myself attending each evening. There were workshops on tapping into our creativity, how to stay motivated during big projects, and writing from short prompts. It felt great to be with all of these creative people, mostly students, but also some older-timers like me. She creates such a safe, anything-goes environment, which is how art should be. She tells you it's okay to have a "shitty first draft" and that at first, it's all good. To turn off the inner critic. And to realize that as children we are all so creative and that we are told by society to stop doing this or act right or quit being so weird. She had us create affirmations and anthems to get into the mood and stay the course.

My affirmation became: there's a lot of shit out there, so my shit should be out there with it.

My anthem: "Fiction" by The Lucksmiths - it's a beautiful song that has a chilling instrumental climax; the lyrics are about the singer encountering a woman who had a tatoo on her arm that read "Fiction." She said it reminded her of what she wanted to be doing, whether reading it or writing.

Even though all of that was a great experience, the two best experiences this week were the performances. On Wednesday, Aya performed. This woman can turn words on you, go from rage to reflection, and bust out a perfect performance. My favorites of her works are Cellulite (about the pressure in media for women to be thin to be considered beautiful and the celebration of having cellulite), Sensitive Guys (like it sounds, a very funny piece about all guys, even South Central gangsters are really just sensitive guys), and Vieques (about a small island off of Puerto Rico the US Navy used for weapons testing, it portrays the island as a young girl being abused by her stepfather). Her performances rocked! And she showed a video of her one-woman stage performance which was at times very uncomfortable. She plays this role of a girl in hip-hop who's been exploited and thinks her sex appeal is what makes her a person, and in the middle of her song, she has a breakdown. It's really power but hard to watch. Aya said instead of criticizing women like this character, she wanted to inhabit her and experience her life.

And the finale on Thursday was open mic night. Now, I have stood in front of a crowd of strangers twice in my life to share my writings aloud. Once it was for a Poetry class I took in college. The other was an open mic night event I was in grad school. I told myself I was going to perform my first spoken word at this Thursday's event. And I did!!

At first I picked six-seven pieces to share because they all fit the universal theme of time. In fact, all of my pieces from the Vignettes of Time series I wrote on this blog were included. All of them did come from posts on this blog:
- Sleep Debt
- Time Capsules
- Corporate Methods of Savings
- Fairy Tale or Fairly Tale
- Still Spring After All These Years
- Sleep Debt (Reprise)

I practiced them and called up The Gouda herself to get her constructive feedback as my test audience of one. As expected she had wonderful ideas for improvement.

On show night, I found out there was a 3 minute time limit, which never occured to me but makes sense. So I tried to decide if I should perform some of them or just one. Allie and I both thought the most powerful was Sleep Debt, and being my first experience with spoken word, I decided less is more. Besides, I start shaking when I perform, so best to contain my jitters!

I had come to know several people during the week, one of which was Mohawk Guy. Mohawk Guy is a senior and quite cute. And possibly gay, but it's hard to tell with those artsy types. Anyway, he's been helping out Aya during her stay here. I had a chance to interact with him during the last workshop before the open mic. He plays guitar and piano, sings, and writes music. He and I talked before the open mic, and like many people this week, thought I was a student. I explained I was an academic advisor, and he asked where I live. Then he gets close and says with this mischievious smile, "I have something to ask you and feel free to not tell me." I'm thinking, wow, he's being rather forward, and yes, I will make out with you afterward. Then he says, "Is there any way for me to get out of the foreign language requirement?" Without missing a beat, I say, "Actually yes," to which he gets all excited, and I continue, "if you can prove you have a language learning disability." So we talked about that for a while. Hmm... I still think he was being playful. Anyway, he's starting up an artist support group that I joined, so I don't think I've seen the last of Mohawk Guy.

It comes to sign up time, and I cleverly decide (as the first person on the list), that I'll sign up for slot 3. Then it occured to me, what if no one signs in slots 1 0r 2? Then I'm going first! Fortunately, one person did sign up before me, so the "first performer" pressure was off. As I expected, Aya set the tone that we support everyone with loud cheers and clapping before and after, and the crowd did just that. I'd say there were about 40 people there. It's my turn, and I know I'm going to unleash something on an unsuspecting crowd. I'm usually reserved with people I don't know, and in workshop settings, I tend to me quiet.

I can't explain where it comes from, but when I perform "Sleep Debt" I turn into someone else. It's very angry and frustrated, and I channel that into this hip-hop stylized voice I don't really ever use. I like to think it's my alter ego Warren Peace coming out. I told the crowd this was something that pisses me off. And I launched into it, and despite losing my place once, which I covered with a joke about being too pissed off, I thought I did really well. By the end, as it builds up, I started to visibly shake. It felt liberating to do this. It felt liberating to say this to a supportive audience. Afterward, Aya came up and said, "You have to be careful with the quiet ones, they surprise you every time."

It was nice to then sit back and enjoy the rest of the performances. Two cats who performed were just amazing. The guy who followed me, Moses, throws so much at you that you can't take it all in. Later I found out he's been doing spoken word and freestyling since his childhood. Last, Mohawk Guy performed a song he wrote. It wasn't what I expected from him at all, very mellow, and his voice sounded muted and smoky. In all, a surreal experience.

Afterward, I thanked Aya for the entire week, and she hugged me and said she loved my performance and encouraged me to keep it up. I also talked to Moses, and he and I talked about each other's performances. He told me to definitely come out to other open mic events to share my voice. I told him I certainly plan on it, now that I've found a venue where I can channel my bitching in a constructive way. Cuz lord knows (and those who know me personally) that I got plenty to complain about. Lastly, I congratulated Mohawk Guy on his song, and he also said great things about mine. I told him I'd hope to see him again in the support group.

This week was a shot in the arm for my creative spirit and my life in general. I made some commitments to write plenty of shitty first drafts, to get my fiction project going, and to not make so many excuses. I'm jazzed!

Business As Usual

I took a healthy chunk of my Sunday to review resumes for our upcoming search. I relocated to Aroma for some fresh brew and concentration time to pass judgment over 50-60 applicants. As I read and read and the words became a blur, a particular applicant snapped me from my highway trance -- she mentions in her cover letter that no two week notice is necessary because she operates her own business (which was conspicuously absent from her resume). Is this woman really self-employed or just unemployed?

And if the latter, when did unemployment become running your own business? Did she think that going about her personal busyness was her business? Maybe she figured that she could write it off on her resume, like some kind of pride tax. Too bad she got audited by me because I'm calling her on the "clearly detail your employment history" rule of thumb -- or as our math teachers in middle school used to say, "Show your work."

Then another applicant listed a Masters of Science in Home Economics. I kid you not! How 1950s is that program? It reminds me of those old filmstrips where we see Jane the dutiful homemaker wearing an apron and taking classes to please her husband. Even now I can hear the distorted, almost monotone voice over (set in front of some cheesy synthesized muzak): "In the not-too-distant future, the modern wife can enjoy the conveniences of a technological society. (beep) With a state-of-the-art robotic workforce around the house, Jane can forget a few of her chores and do more to provide a comfortable living environment for her family. (beep)"


Sew What?

So this guy at Aroma sitting at the next table is cross-stitching. It strikes me as odd that a guy would choose to do that in public. I'm all for him breaking the gender stereotypes, but most men would closet that hobby or at least not put it on display. He was this stocky, masculine guy with a nose ring, sitting there with his plastic box of stitching materials, threading a needle through a pink hoop. Pink. I was in stitches! And it was kind of serendipitous because I broke out the thread and needle to reattach a button to my shirt earlier this afternoon. Perhaps there was a fate pattern to all this related needlework? And speaking of patterns, I had to figure out what this guy was creating. It took several glances and some progess on his part, but I finally saw the big picture.

It was a scene of 4 unicorns drinking at a bar. Serially! One was passed out on the floor, and another is slumped over the bar. And there they are, horns attached on their heads like permanent dunce caps. Then again, if you missed Noah's Arc and ended up a lost species, it would drive you to drink, too. And you'd feel a bit like a horse's ass yourself.

There you have it, readers. Our expectations change with our experiences. Life itself is a stitch-up. Our minds lace what we know into a pattern of ideas and in the end we hope the picture makes sense. Sometimes a stitch in time saves nine. Other times you lose a button. But you can always mend what comes undone and create something new using your imagination. Just make sure you aren't fabricating your employment history or weaving tales on your cover letters because it's a sure way for your resume to become a resu-maybe-not-so-much.

Men At Work

With all the recent goings-on in my life, this feels like a great time to do some updates that are all about the gents in my life:

Maybe Single Guy has been upgraded to Definitely Single Guy, but with some recent shady behavior on his part, appears to need a patch for his social awkwardness glitch. DSG is a bit self-centered, as I've come to find out. And I'm still quite puzzled by his motives of friendship or moreship. And without a true one-on-one, I haven't had the chance to explore that question. Then he ditched me, which isn't cool. DSG calls to ask if I want to go to the gay dance club. I say yes, call me when you go. I'm still waiting for that call, one week later. You know, everyone forgets, so that's cool. But have the decency to say, my bad, sorry about the ditch. It's reasonable to me. And when he does call, it's like a drive-by calling. "Heywannahangoutokayseeyabye!" Click! I think he's training for a talkathon or something. I'm starting to wonder if he's worth the time. I need a laugher. And he rarely laughs. Dude really needs to de-frazzle.

I called Ambiguously Straight Guy this weekend to hang out. He has class this weekend, so it was a negatory, but he told me "I'm glad you called, I've been thinking about you." Oh, is that so? To hear him on the phone, it sounded like something you say to a person you've dated and kinda lost touch but want to reconnect. He wants to get together this week. Oh yeah, and last week when he dropped by our office to set up a computer, he found yet another excuse to touch me when we were talking. Oh, ASG, you are a mystery.

My British Boss JP asked me to chair the search committee for a couple of new advisors in our office. I was quite thrilled to be approached because I have wanted to chair this committee since I knew we'd open a search. I was on the last committee and loved the process. Now I get to stretch my legs a bit and take on a new responsibility, so that's exciting. Plus I can dust off my human resources education and put it to practical use. Cheers, JP!

While out at the Gayest Non-Gay Bar with some friends, I noticed this guy working there that I'd seen before serving at a restaurant in town. He basically looks like Sideshow Bob from The Simpsons, but cuter and gayer Lenny Kravitz but thinner and gayer. And he was totally checking me out. I remember him being a bit odd, but the eye contact kept going on, and he is a seemingly available man. Next time I see him, I should strike up a conversation with Sideshow GayBob Thinny Kravitz. I do like the hair!

And this Friday, Aaron will be coming into town for the premiere night of Snakes on A Plane! We both have our T-shirts, and a crew of eager SoaP fans has been assembled. Expect a full debrief with pictures after the event!

** S-minus 4 Days and Counting **