Boy, do I have some Tales to Tell...
I have to admit that I am enamored by Lance and Reichen. Actually, I think they are absolutely adorable. A friend of mine says that he doesn't see anything attractive about Lance. Ever since he came out, I find him attractive. Reichen has always been physically attractive but a lot of the things he has been involved with tend to turn me off. But, as a couple, I find them more than delightful. And not just physically. I think it's great that Lance came out of the closet and has spent a lot of time being photographed by the media... with Reichen by his side, affectionately. I think it's a great example. Regardless of what will happen in their future, I think their current actions are very positive for homosexuality.
What does trouble me is how a lot of our fellow homosexuals are reacting. I have heard, via blogs and conversations, a lot of negativity about Lance coming out. About the coupling with Reichen. About the supposed publicity stunt. It makes me wonder why. Why is it that we want some celebrity males to admit their homosexuality but, when they do, do nothing to applaud their decision? Not only do we not applaud their decision to live openly, we denigrate and criticize them for it. So, in essence, we want closeted male celebrities to come out so that we can bash them over the head for living openly? The hatred baffles me. And we wonder why any male in the public eye is reluctant to admit if he is a homosexual.
If we are going to acquire the rights we so deem basic, we are going to have to be able to accept whoever comes out for whatever they want to do. Lance and Reichen attending public events shows the world that we can exist just like they exist. That, we, as a homosexuals, are as big a part of society as all other people. That, we, as homosexuals, can lead lives like all other people in existence. That, we, as homosexuals, are just people trying to make the most of our lives as all other people are trying to. And as all other people, we deserve the rights that are basic to all other people.
I hope that soon, we can just let celebrities come out and lead their lives without making light of what they do. Because, only then can we not have people think we are not. Later.
How often should one check to see if a blog they like has updated? I like reading blogs. The ones I do read are the ones that I find interesting. But then again, does anyone read blogs that they don't find interesting? Maybe. But back to what I was originally talking about... when it comes to checking if one of your favorite blogs has updated, how often is too often?
There are certain "gossip" blogs that I know update frequently. And I check them several times a day. Yes, I know, I should not partake in gossip but I do. Get over it. Do I necessary believe them? No. Do I find them entertaining? Often. Do I find that the people who write these things are often in need of the same attention that the people they write about crave? More than we think. But, I do read them. And what does that say about me? Nothing too interesting.
With the exception of a couple of blogs, I tend to read blogs written by other gay men. Specifically, gay men who exist in big cities. I think it's because I am one of them. It's probably because their existence validates mine. It's good to know that I am not alone in this world. If you believe that you don't need validation, then good for you. But I think most of us want to know that we are not alone. And we aren't.
There are a few blogs that I check very often. Very very often. I love what these people have to say. I find that their point of view on anything is always fascinating. I wish that they would update a lot more. I wish they would write more. But I understand that writing something of substance is not an easy task. And I know that, unless you do it professionally, it's not always the first thing on your mind. And, I know that it takes time to write something that is interesting to the composer, let alone the reader. Which the blogs that I click on very very often seem to do.
Once in a while, I will spend some time checking out the blogs that my "very very often" blogs link to. For some reason, I am yet to find a blog that I like that way. At least one that I like "very very often". Not sure why. I'll tell you when I find out. And I should find out after I take a break from checking if some of my "very very often" blogs has updated. Later.
Over lunch the other day, my friend D. and I were having a very heavy conversation. That morning, her girlfriend had told her that she was not ready to be in a relationship because of all the psychological issues she was having. D.'s girlfriend has been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and lately, because of stress, has been having psychotic episodes. Since, this relationship is new, D. has never experienced any of this and does not know what to do. On top of it all, they had just moved in together. It's true what they say about lesbians: they do bring a moving truck to the second date. Oh, and did I tell you, D.'s girlfriend is not really a city girl; actually, crunchy granola best describes what she is like. Honeyed crunchy granola.
By the end of lunch, we had come up with a plan for D. She was going to get some help from a national group that deals with psychological issues like this. She was also going to call the girlfriend's sister (who lives in NYC) and a friend to get some help and information on how to help. I told her that the bottom line was that this is beyond our scope of knowledge and she needs to get assistance so that she can better deal with this situation.
While waiting for the check, I told D. that I was going to check out this new coffee shop that was doing some stuff for the company I work for. I wanted to get an idea as to what the whole business was like. I also said that I was going to head home after, cook dinner, watch Project Runway, and just hang out with my husband. At that point, she asks, "Is this all that life is going to be? Work, go home, hang out with friends occasionally, and start the cycle all over again?" I said, "Yup. That's what life is all about. One big routine." She then said, "But it has to be more!". I said, "Nope. It doesn't have to be. It's just one big routine. With a few bumps thrown in sometimes."
And you know what? Life is one big routine. Nothing more. Once in a while something exciting happens. But you know what? That's it. Don't tell me that there is always something better that will come along. No it won't. And if you believe that, you will spend your time waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Not living. Just waiting. Hoping that something will come along.
And please don't tell me that you have to make it happen. You may have to do things to stir up your life. But, in order to be able to stir up your life, you have to be able to sustain your life. And to do that, you have to have one big routine. Yup, one big routine to pay the bills. To fill up the time that connects those bumps that make life interesting. One big routine that makes you realize how special some of those bumps are.
Now, I didn't say that your routine had to be mundane. I just said that it was a routine. You make it what it is. You make it as exciting or as boring as you want. But you know what? It's still a routine. One big routine. Make the best out of it.
I gotta go finish up my routine for the day. Later.
WHAAATTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You saved Vincent and booted Allison?!?!?!?!? You saved Kayne because "he can sew"? And you booted Allyson because she made her model look fat? So, you would rather have a dress that is obviously "thrown" together than a dress that at least looks put together?
This is crazy. I agree with Laura. I just wish she had reached back and decked that reason-for-lithium Vincent. That would have saved my night.
A few years ago, while having a dinner of turkey sausage with sauteed kale on brown rice, at my studio apartment, with my then boyfriend, the conversation went like this:
Tim: Oh, by the way, I had plans to go to Fire Island with Y. this coming weekend.
I: Are you going?
Tim: Yeah. We're just going to chill out and hang by the pool.
I: Well, if you go, don't do any drugs because I won't respect you, if you do.
I: Well, I respect you but you shouldn't do drugs.
A few days later, while having a dinner of corn salad and barbecue chicken, at Y.'s share, the conversation went like this:
Y: So, how is I. doing?
Tim: Fine, I guess.
Y: You guess?
Tim: Okay. Not so fine.
Tim: Well, he told me not to do drugs because he would not respect me if I did.
Y: You need to dump him.
Y: Anyway, I have a half an X for you, if you want one.
Y: Not that you should and I am not forcing you.
Y: But if you do, I am here for you.
A few hours later, while doing what I think is dancing, at a dance club, the conversation went like this:
Y: Are you having fun?
Tim: Oh, yeah.
Y: I see it's kicked in.
Tim: It has?
Y: Oh yes it has.
And so began my foray into the world of club drugs, circuit parties, and sleep deprivation. I continued this path for a couple of years. It had it's moments. I have a lot of memories of wonderfully joyous times. I did it all - X, G, K, Tina, acid. If you didn't guess, I. and I did not last. I still his holier-than-thou face. Funny how he can be judgemental about what I did. Especially because he was a prostitute at one time.
I am lucky that I was able to get out of that scene without having to go through rehab. Or catch any sort of disease. I don't know how I did but I did. I am very thankful for it. I would never tell anyone to do drugs. Then again, I would never tell anyone not to. Decisions are all your own but understand what their consequences are.
I think this weather reminds me of nights I would go out and just dance the night away. High on Trail Mix (crushed X and K). I remember just riding the music and thoroughly enjoying it. I can still "ride the music" although without enhancement. I just have to be on a stage dancing by myself. But I can do it. Lucky me. Lucky, lucky me.
The husband and I recently spent a weekend at a friend's place in Connecticut. During our stay, I learned a few things. For one, our friends are filthy rich. I mean, we stayed in the guest cottage out back. The one next to the building that is the cedar-lined gym that used to be a stand-alone closet. Anyway, I digress...
Since the weather was gorgeous, we decided to have dinner outside. So, we lit the torches and moved our tempura-battered, nori-wrapped tuna and salmon to the patio next to the rose garden. But again, I'm straying...
After the main course, while our hosts were inside getting dessert, while sipping on one of the best Nuits-St. Georges I have ever had, the husband turned to me and asked, "So, why are we living in the City again?"
I admit that when I am in the "country", I savor the quiet and slow-paced atmosphere. It's always a treat to be able to get away from my non-stop over-stimulating city life and be allowed to just sit back and breath without having to meet some goal or deadline. New York City can be strenuous: the heat, the walking, the climbing, the waiting. It can all take it's toll. It can make you long for quiet nights sitting on a porch sipping a refreshing drink. It can be expensive: the rent, the food, the taxes, the bills, the clothing. It can make you long for an extra bedroom or two (which you can get elsewhere with the rent you pay here).
New York City is just not for everyone. My sister lived here for almost 8 years and could not wait to move back to the West Coast. My husband has been in and out of the City for more than 20 years but this is the city that he always returns to. I have been here for 14 years. My childhood friend Janice thought she would give it a year; it's been almost five. There are many bloggers out there who move into New York City, only to up and leave within a year. And for every blogger who does that, there is one who cannot understand why.
Maybe it's why I call this city a "love it or leave it" city. The heat, the smells, the costs, the people, the noise, the culture, the vagrants, the movers, the shakers, the latest & greatest, the bests in their fields, the struggling, the wanna-be's, the geniuses, the know-it-all's, and many more - you either love it or leave it. And for most people, they just would rather leave it. But you know what? I purchased that delicious Nuits-St. Georges less than two blocks from my co-op. Which is why I live in the City. Later.
While working out the other day, I overheard a conversation between a trainer and his client. The trainer was some overdeveloped, muscley type. His client was maybe in his late 30's to early 40's. I had noticed them working together but mostly because the client kept grabbing his knee and flexing it. The trainer would demonstrate an exercise (for example, a lunge) but barely being able to execute it himself. He would then ask the client to "give it a try." With very little direction from the trainer, the client would attempt what he thought was the exercise, stop after three reps, grab his knee, and kinda laugh while saying "sorry, my knee problems."
After about two more standing leg exercises (which included the same amount of direction from the trainer and the same reaction from the client), the trainer finally sits the client on the floor to show him a quadricep exercise that does not involve direct pressure on the knee joint. The client says that this is better. So what does the trainer do? Put him on the leg press.
So, who's to blame here? The trainer for lacking the brain power to realize that any type of excessive upward or downward force on the knee joint is causing pain? That perhaps, what this client needs are leg exercises that apply a lot less than the client's body weight? Or is the client to blame for not stopping the training and asking the trainer why he insists on having him do exercises that put a lot of pressure on his obviously weak knee joint?
Here's the thing: I would like to blame the trainer for not having the knowledge to make proper decisions. After all, it is his job to know how to deal with such issues. And if he can't, it his job to find someone else who can. But then, I think about the client and his inability to just stop the whole process and take control. Look, if I was in pain and my trainer continued to put me in situations that exacerbated the pain, I would stop and find someone else who could deal with my knee issues.
I guess, what I want to know is: when did we stop taking responsibility for our actions? Later.
Yes. I know. It's hot.
Yes. I know. You're sweating like a pig.
Yes. I know. It's also hot in this subway car.
Yes. I know. It's very frustrating for the doors to stay open longer, draining the cold air.
Yes. I know. You just want to go home and sit in your cool apartment.
But, honestly, what the hell do you want the rest of us to do? So, shut the fuck up. Stand still. Stop waving your hands in the air. Stop rolling your eyes. Stop heaving your sighs. Calm your fucking system down. And then maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to bear this whole scenerio.
I mean, unless seathing like an idiot in the not-so-properly-climate-controlled subway car packed with strap-hangers creates a much more comfortable situation. And for the record, all the minorities that are coming home from their jobs outside of an office are staring at you and trying to figure out how to wrap that sweater tighter around your lily-white neck.
Personally, if they kill you, I plan on stealing your shoes. Love them. Later.
In June 1992, I moved to New York City. And, it only took me 14 years to discover power walking around Central Park's reservoir. Did you all know that the full name of the reservoir is the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir? I just found out on my third power walk by the reservoir.
A couple of weeks ago, I was getting ready to head to the gym to do some cardio. I tend to do 30 minutes on the treadmill followed by about the same amount of stretching. Since entering my 30's, I have made stretching a large part of my fitness routine. I am glad I did... anyway, back to the power walking... I wasn't particularly motivated to go to the gym that day. AND the weather was on the hot side. BUT for some reason, I threw on my not-so-tight-shorts, a sleeveless Tee, and my older running shoes and headed for a walk in the park. I planned on doing about 30 minutes of brisk walking in the shaded, hilly areas of the park.
About 15 minutes into my walk, I noticed people running on a track. I headed to it and realized that it was the reservoir running track. I got on. I began walking but got off after about half way around because I realized that I had to head back to meet a friend for lunch.
A week later, I got up and decided to do another power walk in the park. This time, I made up my mind to go all the way around. I enjoyed it so much that yesterday, I did it again. And despite the insane heat we are experiencing, I am going to get up early to do it again tomorrow. And I am excited.
I hate running, so I just don't. I do get a great sweat from the power walking. I have my headphones on and I just power my way past people. Actually, yesterday, I powered my way past someone who I think thought they were jogging. Not sure if they were. I think I will make this part of my fitness routine as long as the weather permits. I like the idea of being outside exercising with people. It feels very liberating. And, yes, I still stretch for about 30 mintes afterwards.
I think I have just become more of a New Yorker. Later.