So, this is my life.

And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

Monday, March 31, 2008


sometimes after seeing him or talking to him, i find myself smiling to myself and slowly sinking into reflection. "wow, we act like 10 year olds together. we're so silly..."

but i like it.

i'm like this: :-)


amen, sister!

No government has the right to tell its citizens whom to love. The only queer people are those who don't love anybody.

— Rita Mae Brown

i just stumbled upon this quote.
i don't know who she is.
maybe she is an author.
but i'm pretty sure she's black.
and i'd be willing to bet she has long dreadlocks.
mostly because whoopi goldberg's character in Ghost was named "Oda Mae Brown."
okay, irregardless, it's fantastic. can i get an Amen?

every day on the subway

xenophobia \ZEN-uh-FOE-bee-uh\, noun: fear or hatred of strangers

does pfizer make a pill for this?

Sunday, March 30, 2008

what dreams my come

today was one of those stay-in-bed-as-long-as-you-can-without-feeling-guilty mornings. dozing. waking. dozing off again for an hour. this is basically my favorite pasttime, and i rarely get to indulge. but it has consequences.

mornings like this always bring about the most vivid dreams/nightmares. well, maybe no more vivid than any other night, but the dozing/waking pattern helps me remember the dreams.

last night my dreams were bad. scary. one dream in particular: i was at lunch with boy and his friends. a lawyer i recognized showed up and asked me about bar applications. i showed her my almost-complete bar applications, and she began chastising me for writing, rather than typing, my answers. next she criticized my handwriting. then she started whiting out all the progress i had made. finally, she told me my bar applications would be late, if they were even accepted. at the very least, i'd have to pay thousands of dollars in late fees (which isn't far from the truth, actually).

livid, i stormed out of the restaurant to catch my breath and so that no one would see me cry. when i returned, boy and his friends had left. i was all alone. i missed the boat, and i had no idea where they went. and worst of all, someone had cleared away my lunch before i finished it.

as i walked down the street by myself, i realized i was wearing seersucker shorts and sneakers. in public. in daylight.

then i woke up.

i think dreams are loud, undeniable semi-subconscious manifestations of the fears and insecurities we spend all day trying not to be upset about. so i guess my most prominent anxieties as of late are a) being left behind, b) these horrible bar applications i keep putting off, and most horrifying is c) poor fashion choices.

el rio de la vida.

A myriad bubbles were floating on the surface of a stream. 'What are you?' I cried to them as they drifted by.

'I am a bubble, of course' nearly a myriad bubbles answered, and there was surprise and indignation in their voices as they passed.

But, here and there, a lonely bubble answered, 'We are this stream', and there was neither surprise nor indignation in their voices, but just a quiet certitude.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

why are they called apartments, when they're all stuck together?

in honor of t's new apartment on a lovely little side street that's lined with blossoming trees and quiet simply because the street is too narrow for cars to drive down, here's a joke i found very funny. love your new place, dear, but . . .

Q: How do you like your new studio apartment?
A: I have no room for complaint.

it's funny 'cause it's true

the alchemist says...

The boy and his heart had become friends, and neither was capable now of betraying the other.

estoy casi cierto que cuando paulo coelho lo escribe, se refiere a mi.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Stuff White People Like, #88

one of my new fave blogs is STUFF WHITE PEOPLE LIKE, and that's saying a lot, considering how many blogs i am addicted to and must read on daily basis in order to feel connected and informed. for today, SWPL may have surpassed GoFugYourself as my number one blizzog.

here's just one of the brilliant posts, but i recommend you check it out yourself, at the link below this excerpt...


#88 - Having Gay Friends

If white people could draft friends the way that the NFL drafts prospects it would go like this: black friends, gay friends, and then all other minorities would be drafted based on need and rarity to the region.

When choosing gay friends, white people like to base their decision on their own needs and requirements. Younger white people tend to prefer young, social gay people-this is their all important ticket into nightclubs and parties.

When a straight person goes to a gay night club, they are reminded of how progressive and tolerant they are. If they are hit on by a member of the same sex, it provides them with a valuable story that they can use to prove to their other friends that they are more progressive and tolerant. “This guy/girl hit on me, I said I was ’straight but not narrow,’ and it was totally chill. Oh, you went to an Irish bar this weekend? That’s cool, I guess. “

Older white people prefer to be friends with gay parents because it enables their children to experience much needed diversity with people who are, for all intents and purposes, exactly the same as them.

It is also worth noting that a gay friendship of any sort allows white people to feel as though they are a part of the gay rights movement. While white people love being a part of any movement, the gay movement is especially important to them because they can blend in at rallies and protests and spend an afternoon feeling the sting of oppression.

Gay friends are an essential part of a white person’s all-star diversity roster. But they are always on the lookout for the ultimate friend; a gay minority.

It is generally accepted that a gay black friend with a child is considered a once in a lifetime opportunity - like a quarterback who can pass, run, kick, and play linebacker. White people will crawl over each other for the opportunity to claim this person as a friend and add them to their roster of diversity.

Other minorities are also highly prized and assigned a ranking based on the level of intolerance in they face from their respective cultures and family members.

Once a white person has told you about their gay friends, it is recommended that you say “I wish more people were like you,” every few months. This will allow them to feel good about their progressive choice of friends and remind them that they are better than other white people.

If you follow this simple rule, you should be able to maximize all benefits of white friendship including assistance in moving and free drinks.

it's the whole thing

my favorite song (for today, at least):

loving a person just the way they are, it's no small thing
it takes some time to see things through.
sometimes things change, sometimes we're waiting.
we need grace either way.

hold on to me, and i'll hold on to you.
let's find out the beauty of seeing things through.

loving a person just the way they are, it's no small thing
it's the whole thing...

there's a lot of pain in reaching out and trying;
it's a vulnerable place to be.

love and pride can occupy the same spaces,
but only one makes you free.

if we go looking for offense, we're going to find it.
if we go looking for real love, we're going to find it.

loving me just the way i am, it's no small thing;
it takes some time.
it takes some time.

~loving a person ~ sara groves ~ d/l it!

okay, i'll be honest. that's actually my second favorite song right now. i didn't post my real fave because the lyrics of "Make Love in this Club" aren't really that great, and i'm into it more for the music. i swear.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

juno what i mean?

okay, i've kept my mouth closed about this for long enough. i can't hold it in any longer. i just feel like screaming:


i assumed that once it was out of theaters, people would stop talking about it. WRONG. it's gone from most parts of the theater world, yet people still talk about it. emmy nominations? exqueeze me? baking powder?

that lesbian girl, ellen somethingorother, gave such a terrible performance. it was definitely some of the worst acting i've ever seen, with the exception of allison janney's performance. i love her, and i don't care that she always plays the same role (snarky mother type - LOVED her in Drop Dead Gorgeous. loved!). oh, and i kinda liked jennifer garner, but was she really acting, or was she just being her needy, baby-craving self?

what's worse is that now people are listening to the soundtrack. can you believe that?? the SOUNDTRACK! my least favorite part about the entire film was the music. it was another of only two times in my life that i wished i were deaf (the first time was when a really obese kid sat behind me in high school english and, bless his blocked-artery heart, he couldn't help but fat-breathe. fat-breathers are some of my worst enemies. it just sounds like strained, subtly weezy breathing that avoids the nasal passage completely and grates against the tongue. like a shovel against the sub-snow sidewalk cement. ughhhhh.)

ANYWAY, the soundtrack was horrible, and now people are passing it around like it's the latest album from the new pornographers or some other trashy punk band that i've actually never heard but have seen pop up on people's iPods and myspace pages.

THAT SAID, i have to say that there is one part of the film that i very much enjoyed, which is basically why i began writing, but i lost track . . .

i loved the part where juno realizes she loves bleeker and goes to find him at track practice:

juno: I think I'm, like, in love with you.
bleeker: You mean as friends?
juno: No, I mean, like, for real. 'Cause you're, like, the coolest person I've ever met, and you don't even have to try, you know...
bleeker: I try really hard, actually.


just that one part.

check this ish out:

Monday, March 24, 2008

call it what you like.

You go to a quantum physicist and you say, "What creates the world?"
And he or she will say, "Energy."
Well, describe energy.
"OK, it can neve rbe created or destroyed, it always was, always has been, everything that ever existed always exists, it's moving into form, through form and out of form."

You go to a theologian and ask the question, "What created the Universe?"
And he or she will say, "God."
OK, describe God.
"Always was and always has been, never can be created or destroyed, all that every was, always will be, always moving into form, through form and out of form."
-James Ray

"What this power is I cannot say. All I know is that it exists."
-Alexander Graham Bell

Sunday, March 23, 2008

love you forever

yesterday i found a post-it that i wrote months ago and forgot about. something i read and had to write down. re-reading it brought tears to my eyes, so naturally i'm sharing it with you.

after h. ledger's death, his parents released "statements" that were more like open letters to their son. the message written by ledger's father is very beautiful.

he wrote:

My beautiful boy, so loving, so talented, so independent, so caring, so young . . . no more chess games mate . . . this is it, couldn't beat you anyway!

My body aches for the sound of your voice, our chats, our laughs and our life and times together.

Your truly varied artistic skills, insatiable desire to improve and eclectic abilities set you apart from any other person on the planet . . . it had only just started for you ... and for us to further enjoy.

We were one, in soul and commitment. Just . . . Father and Son.

I will love you forever.


Saturday, March 22, 2008

i can only imagine.

dear john,

i know you've been gone a long time, but you haven't been forgotten. mostly because your songs tend to get STUCK in people's HEADS, which can be annoying, but are quite timeless, which is a good thing. i think "imagine" was an amazing contribution to music. thank you for that.

it's really quite beautiful, and lately i can't get it out of my effing head.
i blame that cute little sissy, david archuleta. now the song just plays on repeat in my brain.

here's my attempt at getting it out of there. no offense. i still like it and stuff, i just... you know -- have other things to think about.



Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one.

Friday, March 21, 2008

buddha says...

the finger pointing to the moon is not the moon.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

love is a battlefield

i make my bed every day. if i don't have the energy to do it in the early morning, i make it when i get home from work. if i don't have the energy to make my bed when i get home from work, i do it right before bed... minutes before jumping under the covers and, in effect, un-making the bed.

why? because i have to. because my mother taught me to always make my bed. ALWAYS. it's the #1 way to make the room look more tidy and clean. and it simply should be made. if you're not going to bother making your bed, why bother buying expensive duvets and pillow shams for all over it? what's the use?

over the years, probably beginning in high school, i have learned to sleep in a bed without un-making it. despite my tossing and turning, i am conscientious enough to re-adjust covers and sheets throughout the night - even in my sleep - so as to avoid messing up or un-making the bed. when i wake up in the morning, i simply fold down the flap from whence i came, re-arrange my 7 pillows, and continue on with my day knowing my bed is beautiful and perfectly made behind me.

on those rare occasions when i am not alone in bed, all this goes out the window. the entire night is spent pulling covers back to my side, wrestling with sheets, and searching for my pillows. if any of you have slept with me (platonically or otherwise), you know this wrestling match well. it is a power struggle, and the prize is comfortable sleep.

lately, i have lost all control over my bed. i fight all night for pillows and sheets. sometimes the pillows disappear to the floor. and in the morning... dear lord, in the morning... where do i begin?

in the morning, my precious bed is such a mess that i have to pull everything off and start over. no turning-down of the flap. it's like cleaning up the battlefields of normandy in late july of 1944. no offense to those of you who are still upset about WWII... *cough* japanese *cough*. all my hard work throughout the night, all my years of learning to sleep without moving... all for naught.

but at the end of the day, as i'm making my bed before crawling back into it... i wouldn't trade having someone special to wake up with for all the perfectly made, throw-pillow-strewn, creased-sheet, nate berkus beds in the world.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

the alchemist says...

I don't live in either my past or my future. I'm interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you'll be a happy man. Life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we're living now.

that's what eckhart tolle calls the power of now.

check back soon for more about this pilgrim's progress.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Hey... your eyes have a little green in them.

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car.
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme.
I hate it, I hate the way you're always right.
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you.
Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

Monday, March 10, 2008

outta my, outta my head

going out of my mind these days

it's like i'm walking around in a haze
i can't think straight, i can't concentrate
and i need a shave

i go to work and i look tired
the boss man says: son, you gonna get fired - this ain't your style

and behind my coffee cup i just smile.

what a beautiful mess
what a beautiful mess i'm in, spending all my time with you
theres nothing else i'd rather do.
what a sweet addiction that i'm caught up in, cause i cant get enough...

this morning put salt in my coffee
i put my shoes on the wrong feet

i'm losing my mind I swear
it might be the death of me, but i don't care.