Time Smacker

My new toy

2008-06-16T12:45:00.000-07:00

I am literally in heaven.

Aw, my sweet little sister singing

2008-05-20T23:30:00.000-07:00

I used to sing duets with her when I was 16 and she was 8. She had some pipes back then. Still gots lots, I must say. What potential ... I'd love to get a hold of her upper register.

(Sorry you'll have to cut and paste the two lines together. It won't wrap, nor allow itself to be inserted as a link into a word ... worth a listen ... and just wait till I get a hold of her this summer!)

http://ksolo.myspace.com/ms/showSong.do?sid
=25614&rid=72507&uid=1469788

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road

2008-05-19T12:06:00.000-07:00

Sadly, I can't take credit for this funny, I must credit a forward I received from my friend Lloyd. I post it here, instead of forwarding it willy nilly to friends. (Okay, maybe just one.)

BARACK OBAMA:
The chicken crossed the road because it was time for a CHANGE! The chicken wanted CHANGE!

JOHN MC CAIN:
My friends, that chicken crossed the road because he recognized the need to engage in cooperation and dialogue with all the chickens on the other side of the road.

HILLARY CLINTON:
When I was First Lady, I personally helped that little chicken to cross the road. This experience makes me uniquely qualified to ensure -- right from Day One! -- that every chicken in this country gets the chance it deserves to cross the road. But then, this really isn't about me.......

GEORGE W. BUSH:
We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road, or not. The chicken is either against us, or for us. There is no middle ground here.

JERRY FALWELL:
Because the chicken was gay! Can't you people see the plain truth?' That's why they call it the 'other side.' Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media white washes with seemingly harmless phrases like 'the other side. That chicken should not be crossing the road. It's as plain and as simple as that.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY:
To die in the rain. Alone.

DR. PHIL:
The problem we have here is that this chicken won't realize that he must first deal with the problem on 'THIS' side of the road before it goes after the problem on the 'OTHER SIDE' of the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by not taking on his 'CURRENT' problems before adding 'NEW' problems.

OPRAH:
Well, I understand that the chicken is having problems, which is why he wants to cross this road so bad. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls, which is a part of life, I'm going to give this chicken a car so that he can just drive across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.

COLIN POWELL:
Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing the road...

ANDERSON COOPER - CNN:
We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have access to the other side of the road.

JOHN KERRY:
Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am now against it! It was the wrong road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken's intentions. I am not for it now, and will remain against it.

NANCY GRACE:
That chicken crossed the road because he's GUILTY! You can see it in his eyes and the way he walks.

PAT BUCHANAN:
To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American.

MARTHA STEWART:
No one called me to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a standing order at the Farmer's Market to sell my eggs when the price dropped to a certain level. No little bird gave me any insider information.

DR SEUSS:
Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed I've not been told.

GRANDPA:
In my day we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough.

BARBARA WALTERS:
Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heart warming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting, and went on to accomplish its life long dream of crossing the road.

ARISTOTLE:
It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

JOHN LENNON:
Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads together, in peace.

BILL GATES:
I have just released eChicken2007, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your check book. Internet Explorer is an integral part of the Chicken. This new platform is much more stable and will never cra...#@&&^(C%.....reboot.

ALBERT EINSTEIN:
Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the
chicken?

BILL CLINTON:
I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What is your definition of chicken?

AL GORE:
I invented the chicken!

COLONEL SANDERS:
Did I miss one?

DICK CHENEY:
Where's my gun?

AL SHARPTON:
Why are all the chickens white? We need some black chickens.

Dear Mister

2008-05-12T11:31:00.000-07:00

You were right. How did you know?

I chose to be called fagot from 2nd grade on.
I chose to bawl myself to sleep at night in the 7th grade.
I chose to loathe myself until I was 27.
I chose to lose my parents when I was 31.
I chose to date 60 women, only for things not to work out.
I choose to live in fear for my life when I enter certain countries.

Bigotry is bigotry is bigotry. Even when it comes in kinda pretty packages.

The Flowers. The FLOWERS!

2008-05-05T22:34:00.000-07:00

Ok, so the flowers posted the other day were almost immediately after the photo snipped shorter and arranged prettier.

I'm about to replace them, but I wanted to remember how beautiful they were, so here they are posted again.

Today, I Recommit.

2008-05-04T12:09:00.001-07:00

Today, I take control of my finances.
Today, I stop living in fear.
Today, I return to kind living.
Today, I start reading again.
Today, I recommit to excellence.

No Day Like Today

2008-05-01T13:01:00.000-07:00

Just got back from a beautiful morning. Every day should be like today. Anette invited me for a little hike at Ft. Funston. Here are some photos of the day. And here I am starting it off with a little Kiss action, as ever.

What follow are generic beach/ocean photos. But really, is there such a thing? Unbelievably beautiful.

The beauty somewhat captured by the iPhone.

More. Love living in this city. Just getting to know it.

My favorite flower, bought in Noe Valley after lunch with Anette at Savor.

Hoping they'll pick up now that they're in water.

A beautiful start to a Thursday.

Where I Teach

2008-05-01T08:14:00.001-07:00

For my own record, more than anything else, I'm starting to post every day photos here. This is a photo of the front of the private school where I teach. Beautiful.

Here's a photo from the back of the school, overlooking the Bay, if you look closely you can see the GG in the distance to the left.

Here's the music room where I am on M and T.

Here's a look at the front entryway (there are, like, seven levels) - taken from the library.

Here's a view of the library, leading into the room where I teach on Fridays.

And here's a view of the library door leading to the room where I teach on Fridays. Much different from my public school upbringing. (If you turn right in this picture, you get a gorgeous view of the Bay, et al.)

I Look Kinda Sexy....

2008-04-29T00:05:00.000-07:00

....from far away.

How to Spot a Gay Tourist

2008-04-22T11:09:00.001-07:00

Density

2008-04-21T19:07:00.000-07:00

I just had the densest girl wait on me here at the pizza shop. The kind who stares emotionless at you awaiting your next cue. Me: "Honey, if you were taking this longer-than-necessary pause to translate what I'm saying into your mother tongue, I might sympathize. Even slow down and smile. But I hear no trace of anything more than west coast stupid coming out of your mouth, so get on with it.

Paris Hilton in "Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset" on South Park

I recall my own stupid transition from thinking these sorts of pauses and blank stares were somehow my fault. Like I was stupid, ugly, uncool, or perhaps missing some cosmic joke reserved for people smarter than I.

Alas, as I've learned this far in life: as with most things, it's not about me at all. That's why she's here working here at this pizza shop and I'm just dropping by.

Interesting

2008-04-20T12:29:00.001-07:00

AT&T Wireless - How to turn off automated outgoing message

2008-04-17T20:00:00.000-07:00

Do you use AT&T for your cell service?

I do now since I got my iPhone, and I've been annoyed at that damned outgoing message yada yada that comes on after my own personal greeting. "If you'd like to page this person, press blah; if you'd like to send a fax, press blah, if you'd like to fry eggs on John Doe's washboard abs, press ... your mom."

I mean, it gets RIDICULOUS all the yada yada callers have to go through just to leave a message.

Anyway, I just figure out how:

Press and hold 1
Press 4 (personal options)
Press 2 (administrative options)
Press 6 (to "turn auto play on or off" -- auto play is apparently all of that yada yada)

Voila. Peace and swiftly left messages at last!

WTF? How is this possible? Eight Minutes You Won't Soon Forget

2008-04-08T22:20:00.000-07:00

My Beautiful Life

2008-04-08T21:39:00.000-07:00

I know I go on and on about how great my life is right now. But it was so dreadfully bleak at the end of 2007, that I am crystal clear about how good I have it today.

Speaking of today, here's an iPhone photo I took for my friend Kandace. I sat from that vantage point sipping a beverage and working on a client's resume while enjoying the beauty of SF's Union Square, just 1.5 blocks from our apartment.

Yes, life is great right now.

Happy Easter

2008-03-21T16:24:00.001-07:00

Life is peaceful. Life is good. Enjoy these Easter funnies. Thanks, Maren.

Okay, Okay!

2008-03-11T00:46:00.001-07:00

Dayum! Panties? Twist? Okay, okay! :-) Here's an update and some new photos. Through the instantaneous miracle of the iPhone.

So V and I celebrated, hmm ... can't remember ... we celebrated something on Friday night with brie, gouda, fruit, and champagne. We curled up on the floor and just talked the night away. I love my life.

I bought a new computer Sunday morning. Thanks BestBuy for the best buy I've ever gotten. Was it as good for you? And here is my desk as I'm hard at work transferring everything from the 2001 oldie to the 2008 goodie.

And finally, I got my hairs trimmed up last week. Buh bye to the long stuff. Loving it!

I'm tired. Gots ta go ta the sleep bed. And p.s., this kettle is callin' someone else's pot black.

My computer is so old (2001)....

2008-02-21T14:47:00.000-08:00

....it squeaks like a squeaky toy!

Morning Peace

2008-02-20T21:17:00.000-08:00

I have in recent years recalled and longed for the feeling I got on quiet Saturday mornings as a youth sitting across the kitchen table from my grandfather at my grandparents house. It was usually dark and cold outside. My siblings and cousins were still zonked on the living room floor while my grandmother made hot cocoa and my grandfather put jelly on endless stacks of buttered toast. It was 5:30 a.m. and we were readying ourselves for the seven or eight mile drive into Central Valley where I would soon be folding and distributing Saturday morning in my grandfather's Chevy pick up.

My mornings have become much like that now, and I wonder if we're really made to work for anyone else at all. To be expected to "be here at 9:00 a.m." or earlier. To have to meet increasing demands with less staff, less recognition, and for some, less income.

At least for me, that life is not where I thrive. It stresses me out. It makes me feel non-human.

Today, I awaken with the sun, pad over to my desk to fire up my laptop, zip into the kitchen to start some water to boil, grab a piece of fruit and take my medication and turn on the radio. It's all very civilized and deliberate. I sit down to write with piping hot tea by my side, bundled in my robe, hair amassed and sticking in all directions. I might stay that way until 3:00 p.m.

But for now, I look down at Sutter Street and all the people insanely passing by. And I feel gratefully cocooned in my toasty apartment with my husband snoozing his final hours away before he has to get up and join the rat race.

A Little Celebration

2008-02-19T16:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I spent the day searching San Francisco for a store I found in October 2007, where I found the perfect desk for the space allocated for my new desk.

It's February 19, and I've just returned from my fabulous little purchase. And here are some photos for out-of-town family and friends who wonder what it's like to live on the sixth floor of an apartment building.

Here's a photo I took last night (god, I love my iPhone), looking up at the apartment and imagining myself in my new work space window. (We're the second LIT unit from the top of the building in the forefront. With the curtain swooping to the left in the very left-hand window. Of course. Swooping.)

Today it came true! It's a happy day, even though it's rainy. A little personal celebration for creating my own income and loving my life after such a challenging end to 2007.

I'm a little buzzed from my favorite beer, Duvel. Oh well. I can work again in a few hours.

Love Life

2008-02-18T08:01:00.000-08:00

After my difficult wrap up to 2007, I have begun to celebrate every day of 2008. Despite my ankle mishap a few weeks ago that seems to be taking forever to heal, and in spite of the crazy cold I'm nursing at the moment, I am thankful every day for what I do. I write and I teach. I write and I teach. And I'm making a living.

I have bigger plans for the future based on both areas. I have put those out to the universe and I'm making baby steps every day toward achieving those plans.

2008 is well on its way to being the year I predicted. Hurray, hurray!

Cabbies and Crutches

2008-02-13T21:35:00.000-08:00

I'm usually not passed over by cabs. I'm not African American, as my husband always says. He shoves me out front and has me pull my shirt sleeve up to display my neon-white arms at night. I'm not old yet, so slowness and smelliness aren't an issue (usually). I'm don't look like I'm from the wrong side of the tracks. Although, once I did and five empty cabs passed me by. I promptly kicked on of the cabs as it passed me by, then when it turned the corner and parked I went over and yelled my head off at the driver.

Alas, cabbies apparently don't like people on crutches because I am yet again flailing wildly whilst empty cabs speed by me shaking their heads "sorry" with that fake grimace like, "Wish I could help, but...." They must be on their way to some pre-arranged pick up. Yeah. That's it.

Someone also needs to tell cabbies not to pull away from you, when you're on crutches, until your feet are sufficiently away from the car. Lest one get two broken feet. I have quickly learned that it is my responsibility to get away from the cab before closing the door, which is the universal sound for "go" to a cabbie.

P.S. Also hold on when boarding the train and finding your seat. They don't wait for you.

P.S.S. I found this photo when I Googled "taxi." First photo. Guess what. In all the world, THAT was the corner I came barreling around and kicked the cab after being passed up by five cabs when I hadn't showered and was in my nasty morning clothes. That last car was the position where the cab parked, and I stood out in the street yelling my bloody head off at him. (See the Disney Store sign? Our apartment is just up the street and over.) What a life!

Not Broken

2008-02-05T17:36:00.000-08:00

Last night, I wrapped up a lesson at a student's home in a better part of town, slung on my backpack, and headed down their front steps. I'm not sure what was wrong with me, but somehow I failed to negotiate the variance between their level step and the 45 degree (or so) angle of the sidewalk.

I soon returned to their doorstep with my ankle looking like it had an apple sticking out of it. It was difficult going since I didn't have use of my left foot. As luck would have it, there was a doctor in the house.

I went to his office this morning and after x-rays happily learned that my ankle isn't broken, just badly sprained. Hallelujah! But I'm going to hate being on crutches for the next three weeks.

My first three thoughts after I fell:

1. Oh, no. That did not really just happen.
2. Shoot, now I can't go have drinks.
3. Damn, I'm not gonna be able to work out tomorrow.

I'm wearing this not-so-pretty contraption now called an air cast, in black. Unfortunately, I don't look quite as sporty as the photo. I'm grateful it's not broken.

I'm Having a Serious Happy Attack

2008-01-26T22:26:00.000-08:00

Today was perfection. Although we missed K&M and our aborted jaunt to Fake Mendocino, V and I started the morning with Mimosas and strawberries, served on the service-in-bed tray we so rarely use.

Afterward, I cooked my "World's Famous Cheese Eggs" at V's request (with buttered toast), then got caught up on my Oprah and Medium episodes.

The curtains were all drawn in the house. Better to keep the cold out. And it was all snuggly. It felt like it was just the two of us in all the world. Isn't that amazing? (Except when I walked out all naked, I realized that J was sleeping on the couch from the night before. Oy.)

Alas, all day I've been playing with the new iPhone V bought me last night. It's a. ma. zing. I can do ... um ... everything on it. I can't remember the last time I played with a (useful) device for six hours straight.
Plus, AT&T will save me $30 over Sprint since we're on a family plan. Now isn't THAT a bitch.

Feelin' the happiness right about now.

What I'm Thinking Today

2008-01-25T12:53:00.000-08:00

It's ka-ka rainy and cold today. Last night's Yum was sadly canceled, although understandably. My trip out of town with K, M and V has been canceled, confounded rain. I have a sick student, so I don't start till 4:00 today. A client got pissy and I tried to smile my way through it. My gut knew not to take him on. I'm achy but turned back inside after my intended visit to the gym was thwarted by rain and wind.

Happily, goals are being met. I have lots of time to negotiate them.

But I need the sun.

Published for Reals

2008-01-22T14:49:00.000-08:00

Today, the book I contributed to hit bookstores. I dropped by Borders an hour ago, found the book, and sipped a mocha while pilfering the pages for my work. And there it was. My work. Published.

Today is a happy day. Only marred by the sad and untimely death of Health Ledger.

How Old Would I Be On Another Planet?

2008-01-19T21:58:00.000-08:00

Mercury: 155 years old
Venus: 61 years old
Earth & Moon: 37 years old
Mars: 19 years old
Jupiter: 3 years old
Saturn: 1 year old
Uranus: Less than 1 year old
Neptune: Less than 1 year old
Pluto: Less than 1 year old

How old are you on another planet?

http://www.solarviews.com/eng/edu/age.htm

Don't Squint: A Word to the Still Young

2008-01-15T14:12:00.000-08:00

I had a baby face in my youth. I trained myself to squint to I'd look older, meaner, more seasoned.

Today, I need Botox to minimize my permanently frowny forehead.

Yes. It does really stick that way.

Maybe I should stop cracking my knuckles.

Ten Things I Learned This Week

2008-01-08T12:10:00.000-08:00

So, I've been tromping around NoCal and Oregon for the past week, using Amtrak to visit family. I fly home in a few hours from Portland. Here are ten things I've learned along the way.

1. Six-year-olds can have amazing, amazing singing voices. Like, seriously.
2. Cup stacking is a sport, and an after-school activity. (Yes, you'll want to watch it again to make sure it's not on fast-forward.)
3. Traveling by train is fun, but traveling by plane is much faster.
4. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. It also makes it possible to not recognize your own father in a line up.
5. Seven-year-olds can kick ass on what appear to be complicated video games.
6. Things ARE cheaper at Walmart.
7. Fourteen-year-olds today are much more knowledgeable about the world than when I was 14. At least the dark side of the world.
8. It is possible to wear the same pair of jeans for a week.
9. It doesn't take long to lose good eating habits.
10. You won't recognize your own habits, ticks, and nuances as much as you will when visiting family.

Tree Man. Is He Real? Can Something Be Done?

2008-01-07T00:16:00.000-08:00

Funny 12 Days of Christmas

2007-12-31T16:16:00.000-08:00

A Little Meander About Trains and Voiceovers

2007-12-30T19:04:00.001-08:00

So it's finally happening. I'm taking an eight-day trip to visit family up the West Coast. Starting in San Francisco on January 1 at 9:00 p.m., I'll head to Redding, where I'll visit my paternal grandparents, aunt, and one cousin and her family.

From Redding, I'll head to Albany on my choo-choo train, where my sister Jessica will pick me up and take me into Sweet Home, OR, for a day-and-a-half visit. From there my sister, who lives in Portland, will pick me up when she picks up her daughter after holidays with Emma's grandparents (my parents), and we'll all head to Portland where I'll stay for another day-and-a-half.

I'll take a 17 hour journey from Portland to San Francisco, starting mid-day on January 8 and arriving at SF's Union Square on January 9 at 9:20 a.m. What an adventure! I'm taking my camera and planning to pretend like I'm on a great adventure, dining in the dining car and drinking in the lounge. I can't wait!

Which brings me strangely to voice overs.

I've always been fascinated by people who make their living doing voice overs. I once researched a guy who does movie trailers, and found that there are five "main" voice over guys living in Hollywood.

But tonight I looked up Amtrak's "Julie," only to stumble across an article called "The Voice" in The Boston Globe." My voice over geek hit high burn when I started Googling around and found that Tom Glynn -- who greets Bank of America, United, Apple, and CVS customers like me every day -- is a musician. And a good one!

So bon voyage to me. And if you're at all geeked out like I am about voice over talent ("What do they look like?" "Are they real people?" Etc), then you'll enjoy these links.

"The Voice," The Boston Globe (Hear samples of his work mid-page. Then jump over to his MySpace page or musician Web site to hear him sing. I'm totally geeked!)
Tom Glynn's music page (does he look like you thought he'd look?)
Tom Glynn's MySpace page (be a real geek and "friend" him!)

And don't even get me started on Amtrak's "Julie." (She saves them millions per year.)

Yes, I'm fascinated.

Happy New Year and happy trails!

My New Bike

2007-12-29T12:13:00.001-08:00

Yup, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to me! I got a new (used) bike!

After three months searching Craigslist, I finally found one I liked in Millbrae, took BART down, and brought it home two days ago.

Yippee!

Blazing My Own Trail

2007-12-26T10:00:00.000-08:00

Immediately when I write "Blazing My Own Trail" as a title for this post, I am mindful that all of us blaze our own trail. Everyone I know has taken what was given and either pursued opportunities available or eschewed them for something entirely different. Nonetheless, they blazed their own trail.

When I write "Blazing My Own Trail," however, I am coming from the point of view of a young man, and now fully grown man approaching 40, who went through a long period of departure. Departure from the cult-like beliefs of my parents. And to understand this fully, one probably needs to consider people who escape the pockets of secret cults sprinkled around the U.S., like those found in Utah, New Mexico, Arizona, and Southwestern Colorado.

My life has been about departure. Now it is finally about return. I'm sure my father would like that return to include a prodigal son type of return to god, faith, and conviction of things not seen.

But for me, return is a bit more like pulling a U-turn at an intersection. Seven short, but seemingly long years away from music, and I am finally returning.

As I return to teaching piano and coaching voice, I have begun pulling dusty books from my personal library. Perhaps to center myself. Perhaps to reconnect more fully. Perhaps just to refamiliarize myself to the world of music with a new set of experiences to draw from.

The book I am re-reading now is "The Well-Tempered Keyboard Teacher." Well-tempered here refers to a set of preludes and fugues written in all 24 major and minor keys by Johann Sebastian Bach in 1722. Its purpose, Bach stated, was "for the profit and use of musical youth desirous of learning, and especially for the pastime of those already skilled in this study." The current version contains 24 additional works later written and which now comprise the generally regarded volume. I was taught that its main purpose, like "Hanon in 60 Exercises" or the exercises of Czerny, was to ensure facility, technique, and dexterity across all keys. Indeed, at one point I could claim the same, as I devoured everything that came across my piano, from solo work to accompanying.

I can't say that I appreciated the book, "The Well-Tempered Keyboard Teacher," based on this play on words when I was in college. But, indeed, seeing things through newly opened, more broadly experienced eyes has been an encouragement to me. That this is the journey I needed to take. That the last seven years have not been lost or a waste of time.

This excerpt from the book summarizes a great deal for me:

"For many pianists, becoming a teacher is a decision made more by necessity than by true ambition. Often one begins to teach because one has already come so far and has no great desire to pursue a different professional career. Although this seeming backing into place is the route traveled by many pianists in the process of becoming teachers, a large number of them discover a new part of themselves when they begin to teach." -- The Well-Tempered Keyboard Teacher

A difference for me would be that I loved teaching from age 16, when I began teaching beginning students, not knowing that I "shouldn't." But there is buried another idea here that liberates me:

- "Backing into place" perfectly describes how I arrived at teaching, and how I felt after so many years of study. It is why I tentatively explored and soon immersed myself in an entirely new career track upon moving to New York. (How that happened, I'll never fully understand.) It better illustrates my own thinking; that thinking having been "I felt like I needed to see if I could do something else." I always wondered if music was the only thing I could do.

- Extrapolating a bit, I submit that studying music, or karate, or any other art form is unlike studying business or biology. Many of us in the arts begin in grade school to study intensely so that by the time we reach college, much of who we are has become formed in our art. Whereas a business major might simply have checked a box when he first began his college career. So it's no surprise to me that I felt in 2000 that I had already lived a full life (25 years) in the arts. I believe now that it was a misguided belief, but without counsel or a mentor with the right perspective, I can't regret it. I can't regret the experience I've gained, and expect to embrace who I am and have become as being richer than it would have been if I'd stayed on my track.

I remind myself that I had to break free of my father's "greenhouse" simply to attend college. At 25, it was my form of rebellion and personal investment. (Who, after all, goes to college as a form of rebellion?) So this journey has been mine alone in many ways. And I find a bit of comfort in that.

All of this rambling is as illuminating, supporting, and encouraging as it is superfluous. I'm just a bit of matter hobbling around with other bits of matter, all trying to eek out a living on this spec of a planet in the middle of a spec of a universe in the midst of god knows how many other universes. So while I recess into my own head to figure out the meaning of my life, the rest goes on. Shaking the head and saying, "You're not the only thing on earth that matters. Get a grip."

But this is my life. This is me claiming my life. Because nobody else is handing it to me, I have to claim it to keep my sanity.

My life is music, and I'm on my journey back home.

Opus

2007-12-01T12:15:00.000-08:00

My grandmother this morning told me by phone that she and the rest of the family, meaning my grandfather, aunt, and one cousin who still live in Redding, have been waiting for me to come to this decision.

"We didn't want to say anything like 'You are wasting your talent,'" she said. "We figured you just needed to go through what you needed to go through and eventually you'd get back to it."

My grandmother was referring to my obsessive avoidance of my past life in music. My experience in business and nonprofit management really began to ramp up in the mid-90s when I was still in college. My involvement in music (teaching, performing, directing) began to taper off in 2001 after I decided doing eight shows a week in New York wasn't for me and that I was enjoying the challenge in my new found "business digs" on 41st and Third Ave.

I even began to secretly look down on artists, teachers, and musicians. That truth needs no more consideration, except that it was one of the stupidest thoughts I've ever had.

At this point, I've made fine money. I've lived humbly. In fact, "humble living" has been most of my life.

But I've also been running scared. Afraid of valuing myself. Unable to feel my own worth. Believing the J-O-Y song from childhood that basically put Jesus first, Yourself last, and Others in between.

I have decided during the past two months that the universe finally said, "It's time to do what you know. Quit dicking around. Here, have a dose of this and a dose of that, and come back to me when you've had enough."

So I am purposefully rewriting my life. Not in the sense that I will fictionalize my past. Not at all. In fact, my work forward will allow me to embrace all that I have done and gained in the process.

Rather, I am rewriting the tablets of my life by my rules, making informed choices that wouldn't have been informed had I not grown through these experiences. I will not apologize for the two seemingly unrelated areas of growing expertise I bring to the world: music and resume writing. In fact, I'm not only returning "home" to music; I'm also going to invest in my ongoing education in music and writing. They are the two things I love most.

I realized this week that my departure from music teaching was largely based on a book title in one of my college classes on education. The title: "Those Who Can, Teach." The play on words was intended to encourage students to become teachers. In my own experience, however, I learned a nasty phrase I hadn't heard before: "Those who can't, teach." I was repulsed that consensus might think I couldn't because I had decided to become a teacher.

I grew up admiring teachers and wanting to be one. In fact, I started teaching early in life because I didn't realize I shouldn't. Then that phrase caught me by surprise, embarrassed me, and set me on a departure course from anything related to education.

Two-thousand and eight represents a jumping off point. I'm jumping off of the "you're our employee so we promise to pay you every two weeks" bandwagon. Truth is, they could kick me off that wagon anytime they want to, so I'm not really guaranteed anything. But I can be in charge of my own destiny and shape it any way I please with the skills I bring to the world.

I'm jumping into the deep end -- as unapologetically as I can allow myself. I have a choice to believe in the fact that I believe in myself. And to unapologetically let the world know what I think is important; not allow the world to dictate what it thinks I should be doing.

And in truth, the world didn't do any of that. I allowed external influences to build castles of doubt in my own head. So instead of unnecessary finger pointing and blame shifting, I've simply made the decision to go forward.

Now universe. Open up to me. Don't leave me on the street. Don't let me fail my responsibilities. I'm here to work hard and shape my life as I see it in my minds eye.

And by the way, consensus will no longer be my green light. It will no longer restrict or confine me, or motivate me to go a direction I don't want to go but think I should. This is my story and I'm ready to explore what is yet to be written.

Jared, December 1, 2007

Back Home....

2007-08-26T20:30:00.001-07:00

....and the reality of life sets in.

PV was simply wonderful. An amazing memory that I will carry with me over these next few days -- and on into the coming months.

Flying Cockroaches

2007-08-24T10:04:00.000-07:00

The charm of Mexican architecture -- its crooked doors and haphazard lines -- is also what adds to its drama. Even while a good portion of this compound juts out into the open air over the sea, the back portion is nestled up into the jungle behind.

This has brought several surprises during our trip. Not unexpected, but surprising still.

Last night, while Van and I watched "Night of the Iguana," the John Huston / Richard Burton movie filmed in Puerto Vallarta in 1964, a giant moth buzzed around our heads. Indoors. Those pesky irregular architectural lines lead to doors and windows that don't always close tightly. With the lights on indoors and a stormy night outside, it was a perfect invitation for ... not a moth ... but a giant flying cockroach.

After it landed on the wall, I leaped up ready to smack the thing with the back of my sandle, only to have the damned thing fly toward me and then circle back for another wall landing. It didn't nestle onto the wall. It crouched. Ready to spring, or rather fly back into action. It was so large I could see its eyeballs eyeballing me! So I hesitated, trying to look brave, until it flew up onto the chandelier over the dining table.

Satisfied that would be it, we returned to our movie. We actually finished "Master & Commander" before heading off to bed, never seeing the creature again.

I felt like I had truly been one with nature -- bugs included. Until I returned to my bed an hour ago to take a little nap, only to find the creature (or another one) lying upside down next to my side of the bed. The sandle came out, the creature got dead, and I swept it out the door.

It reminded me of our second day here when the same bug, albeit likely another one, was firmly clinging to the wall in the kitchen. Not knowing then that it could fly, I simply went up to it -- in all of its three inch long glory -- and killed it with the back of Van's sandle. (Sandles to the rescue). Only to have part of its guts land on the left side of my face.

What a joy.

There are geckos sharing the villa with us, of course. Happily clacking away when they eat a bug. I like geckos. I want big ones that will eat big cockroaches.

Meanwhile, these things have not diminished the beauty of this trip. I am enjoying myself fully. It's a bit of adventure here and there! Thunderstorms have passed for now and it's lovely outside today. Van and I will head into town at 3ish, kick around a bit, grab dinner, and possibly go to a club later tonight.

Until then, my sandles are off my feet and ready for action.

Wonderful Rain in PV

2007-08-23T11:29:00.000-07:00

Last night's thunderstorm was breathtaking. While stripes of lightning split the sky apart last night -- and we are quite high up in the sky here, so the view was spectacular -- I cooked dinner and Van tried to figure out how to use the DVD player. It was the kind of scene that makes you feel like you're seven-years-old, bringing with it all the wonder and stomach butterflies you'd expect.

I awoke this morning to the irregular plunk and splash of rain and a gecko rejoicing loudly over its morning breakfast. It's 1:31 p.m. and still raining, but truly a joy. I feel like Van and I are hiding up on this hillside in a secret hideaway where rest and relaxation is the only important thing.

Cooking Chicken

2007-08-22T18:39:00.000-07:00

I'm cooking chicken just now. It's raining outside. The sun has set beautifully. Got photos. Van is watching TV. Life is too perfect at the moment. Enjoying every second. The work back home is yet to come. I'm excited. But enjoying the down time to rest and reflect. Had lunch today with Dave and Karen at La Palapa. What a treat to be part of their anniversary. What a surprise. I love them.

Day Three in Paradise

2007-08-21T08:54:00.000-07:00

So, it's day three (actually 2.5) in paradise and I am catching up on some much missed sleep. I clearly need to buy a new mattress when I get home. (Thanks D.J. for the tip.) I sleep like a baby here on this beautiful mattress. Enough with the hurtin' back and the springs pokin' me back home. Time to buy up.

Several board members of my new organization have emailed to congratulate me on my new appointment. It's hard to enjoy this new gig just yet. I'll relax when I've had some time to process it. It all happened quick and hard. There is a shift with this new gig. My early ED experience was mine along, meaning that I founded the organization and fell into the ED responsibilities by default. The second ED role was a brief 9-month interim contract. It was a "save a sinking organization" effort, and in the end, I did a lot but still recommended to close it down. This, however, is new because it's a viable organization with a strong budget and money set aside. It even looks like an endowment may be possible. Their PR consultant has asked for my photo, full bio, and quotes about why I'm excited to be at the organization. But I feel ready after so many years in the saddle. It is time and the fit is right. I know I can lead this group of people. I know I can double the budget in a few years -- that there are several great programs we can add -- that there is advocacy to be done in a bigger way. This is the calm before the storm. A threshold.

Last night, we went to Andale and ate on the upstairs balcony. Then went to a club that was gorgeous but deserted. Apparently, we were there early -- at 10:30 p.m. The place was picking up as we headed out. It's also the off-season. I can imagine that it is teaming with gays getting their groove on during the high season. Beautiful place. Reminiscent of circa 60s Hollywood.

Husband needs the computer so I'm signing off.

In Puerto Vallarta

2007-08-20T10:23:00.000-07:00

Glory be! The villa has wireless Internet! Here we are, Van and I, sitting a few hundred feet above the ocean, looking out over the huge expanse of Puerto Vallarta's Banderas Bay. We've been looking forward to being here since last August when we came. This is the most perfect place on earth for me. Safe. Solitude. A place to ponder my next step in life. Funny that "I Am Changing" is playing on the iPod right now. I'm 37 and it's time to ramp things up. Without kids it can be hard to find your place in the adult world. At least that has been my experience. Going to college late and still being young enough looking at the time to blend in. Stepping out and being thrust into interesting work I had no idea existed. It's been interesting so far. Now it's time to take control. Whatever that means with the roadblocks I've set up for myself. Tear them down. One by one if that's what it takes. For a year now, I've thought it would be great to buy a fixer-upper resort in Mexico -- or a similar location -- and build a fun place where fun-minded folks can just come cut loose. Play like kids. Yum Yum is an inspiration. Those kind of folks need an escape and I'd love to create it. I'm looking at 15-20 years down the road. What am I doing? I'm 52 and hosting folks at the resort Van and I created. And it gives him something he loves to do in his old age. Can you tell I've had two beers already? Can it be? Is it possible given my life track? The mistakes. The effort. The uninformed moving into informed moving into jaded and then stealing back a love for life. Perhaps my mortality is staring me in the face more than in the past. This job offer has been sobering. I am ready but also terrified. I feel more than ever like I'm following in my father's footsteps. It's a shame he decides not to be around to see it. Here's to this next adventure. Bumps and all.

Stardust

2007-08-12T11:42:00.000-07:00

So my re-entry into the world of blogging (thanks Kandace) is a simple comment on the move, "Stardust."

I loved it. Go see it.

I saw Michelle Pfeiffer on Jay Leno a few nights ago and though, "That sounds interesting and weird."
It was.

"Stardust" is a fanciful tongue-in-cheek fantasy (I usually hate fantasy) combining adventure, drama, romance, and grown up comedy into a not-complex-but-thoroughly-enjoyable ride. While the child behind us was enjoying the witches and the magic ("shush please!"), I enjoyed DeNiro's double life.

I actually laughed out loud - probably ten times, at least.

(The very straight looking guy-with-his-girlfriend in front of us actually had the biggest smile on his face at the end of the show, which promptly left his face when the lights went up. CAUGHT HIM. Now go make that girl happy with your newfound in-touchy-ness, you!)

Testo & Cholesto

2007-02-09T09:28:00.000-08:00

So, as we've learned on this bloggy blog, most 36-year-old men have testosterone levels at 600. This is on a scale of 250 (eunich) to 800 (horny teenager).

I was found last May to have a testosterone level just above 300 and on October 20 took the plunge, as we all known and are probably sick of hearing and started testosterone replacement therapy. The improvement in my life altogether was extraordinary. All of these seemingly unrelated problems I was having all fixed themselves -- at once!

So, yesterday I got my blood results from my doctor and my testosterone level is now 449. About halfway up to what is considered normal for my age. But my doctor said going up further is up to me. I'm out of the danger zone of problems associated with low testo, and it looks like I'm avoiding the side effects of the medication. Going any higher and the side effects might start kicking in.

I've decided I'm just fine where I am -- and loving every day.

On a related note -- and if you're still reading, bless you. My cholesterol levels came back, too, and hearing them, I felt the same way I did when I graduated from college. Funny how you can identify those super-excited feelings -- and when you last had them.

Through a series of slowly learned diet changes that are now essentially habits -- as well as a return to regular workouts -- I took my cholesterol down.

Then:
206 cholesterol
46 HDL (good) cholesterol
146 LDL (bad) cholesterol

Now:
149 overall
43 HDL
93 LDL

I was so excited when I heard it I was practically dancing in the streets! (Goofy as hell, yes. But this is my life and my blog so I can goof off all I want!)

So I keep on keepin' on. After this success -- and hopes for continued success -- I am now getting ready to make a career change and go freelance again after quite a few years being someone else's bitch.

I'm excited! August 15th is when I hope to strike out on my own! For now, I'm going to enjoy this health success and hope I don't get hit by a truck.

Getting Old

2007-01-27T00:01:00.000-08:00

My dear friend from childhood, Kandace (we met in elementary school and reconnected several years ago), sent me this hilarious list of musings "on getting old."

Just before the funeral services, the undertaker came up to the very elderly widow and asked, "How old was your husband?" "98," she replied. "Two years older than me." "So you're 96," the undertaker commented. She responded, "Hardly worth going home, is it?"

Reporters interviewing a 104-year-old woman: "And what do you think is the best thing about being 104?" the reporter asked. She simply replied, "No peer pressure."

I've sure gotten old! I've had two bypass surgeries, a hip replacement, new knees Fought prostate cancer and diabetes. I'm half blind, can't hear anything quieter than a jet engine, take 40 different medications that make me dizzy, winded, and subject to blackouts. Have bouts with dementia. Have poor circulation; hardly feel my hands and feet anymore. Can't remember if I'm 85 or 92. Have lost all my friends. But, thank God, I still have my driver's license.

My memory's not as sharp as it used to be. Also, my memory's not as sharp as it used to be.

Know how to prevent sagging? Just eat till the wrinkles fill out.

It's scary when you start making the same noises as your coffeemaker.

These days about half the stuff in my shopping cart says, "For fast relief."

Jake G. Does Jennifer H.

2007-01-14T16:27:00.000-08:00

Seriously (thanks Pink). Spend four minutes and twenty seconds watching this SNL clip on YouTube. F-ing hilarious.

Jake G. does Jennifer H.

My god funny.

Christmas 2006 Photo Retrospective

2007-01-14T00:46:00.000-08:00

At last I'm posting photos from our fabulous Christmas Day activities, which was this year at Karl and Michelle's swanky pad across the Bay. What fun it was to spend with Karl and Michelle, Nick, Nikkol, Ana Marie, and my very own Van.

The night got started off with dinner. This being our usual Yum Yum Clubbers it had to start with eating, of course.

Dinner is prepared most every Thursday in this lovely kitchen. Oh how I love this home. And it looks like Karl really knows his way around.

Light on photos -- and besides photos wouldn't do the conversations justice -- we skip right over to dessert and the opening of presents. Nikkol, Van, and Nick get it going!

There sure are a lot of pictures of Nikkol!

Yes, this could well be the Nikkol feature blog -- pictured here opening (and loving) a set of beautiful Martini glasses from Van (her Secret Santa).

The photos are blurry because of my unsteady hand. But mainly because I like to take a slower shutter speed because the coloring is truer to life. A huge flash makes everything stark and unnatural. Not like blurry people are natural ... but whatevs.

Karl opens his gift.

Meanwhile, Michelle dons part of the wrapping from her present. (I was lucky enough to be her Secret Santa this year -- and SHE was likewise lucky to be mine!)

And here's a closing photo of my dear Michelle being goofy-girl-galore. I love her!

This Christmas was by far the best Christmas I can recall. The combination of life, love, stability, and good friends made me realize again how blessed I am.

It could only be better if my Bay Area crew were able to meet my truly fabulous friends in New York, Texas, and Redding, CA. I love you all.

Loving to Learn

2007-01-08T00:35:00.000-08:00

I learned a variety of things about my health in May of 2006. One was that my cholesterol falls in the combat zone between good and bad. (The other, of course, was my very low testosterone levels).

So after dealing with the personal issues surrounding the "bigger" issue, I finally took the plunge on October 20. In addition to beginning hormone replacement therapy, which changed my life in remarkable ways, I also began exercising and changing my diet to reduce my cholesterol.

I've learned quite a bit since then about the way things are believed to work: good and bad cholesterol, animal vs. plant protein, simple and carbohydrates, soluble and insoluble fiber, the power of antioxidants, and all sorts of other things I can't believe I never knew. I've been tossing whatever is within reach down my throat for too long. I believe I am finally learning balance -- including knowing when to go ahead and indulge with friends (which of course I do every Thursday).

One of the most enjoyable sites I've found in this little pursuit has been AskDrSears.com, a site maintained by a husband/wife doctor team and two of their doctor children. At first glance, it appears to focus on health for babies and children. But Google introduced the site to me when I began researching the benefits of soy, so I got "back doored" into AskDrSears.com.

They make the science of food and exercise a bit easier to understand -- and therefore come recommended by me as a great resource for anyone looking to make a change in 2007.

What a Holiday

2006-12-25T22:25:00.000-08:00

This holiday has been among the most fabulous and meaningful EVER for me. All week has been a series of celebrations -- all right up my alley. Thank you to SF you know who peeps for a kick ass party (no acronym included to protect the innocent). Thank you to everyone who came to our fifth Christmas Eve Eve (CEE) party. And thanks to K&M for opening their home to the Yum Yum for an extraORDINARY Christmas Day.

Burp.

And here's a photo of one of Van's gifts to me / us. Beautiful watches to go with our rings. (You can also see the sleeve of the new robe he gave me....blue!)

Meantime, here are photos from the Christmas Eve Eve party. Christmas Day (today) photos to come ... tomorrow.

Karl (of Oahu, Oakland, Oahu, Oakland, Oahu, Oakland consulting fame) starts the evening with finger food and wine. Yum.

Michelle (speaker extraordinaire, NPO program director, and of K&M fame) and Janet (ED of that big place that has to do with foundations and of Janet and David fame but no photos of David available!) talk about all things nonprofit, we're sure. More than half the crowd was of nonprofit ilk (if you include universities).

Nikkol (pharma sales gal who is looking, any hot men out there?) and Haleh (author and professor extraordinaire) pose for the camera.

Nick (of certain Congressman fame) celebrates by wrapping Christmas ornaments around his neck.

Patricia (of arts fame in SF), Van, and Nick (Patricia's son, SF-that-place-where-I-work alum and international NYU student) pose mid swig.

Englishman Travis (of last minute I-ran-out-of-wrapping-turned-hit-gift-of-the-night fame) can't find a seat in the house.

The Ring Leader leads White Elephant Bingo -- much better this year than last with the last-minute-find-and-purchase (thank you Ross of all places) of a "Deluxe" Bingo game.

V&J wrap up the night with a hug from Susan-who-doesn't-have-her-eyes-closed-in-this-photo fame!

Merry Christmas to all!

Christmas

2006-12-24T01:10:00.000-08:00

The first gift I remember wanting as a child was a Mr. Professor calculator. There must have been other things I wanted. I was seven or eight when I wanted a Mr. Professor calculator. I also wanted drawing pencils and charcoals, as well as a sketch pad. And an aquarium. The aquarium came when I got a paper route at age nine and bought it myself.

That was when I cataloged every experience and object by smell and color. When a cool afternoon sitting on a picnic table with a friend at the elementary school across the street seemed like it would last forever.

Tonight I lived a Christmas memory of my own creation -- the annual Christmas Eve Eve party Van and I started a few years ago. It made me reflect on my own Christmas experiences -- with and without family. With friends who've become my family. With Van who sometimes drives me insane and always makes me happy.

I don't "taste" experiences and possessions like I used to. Life is too fast. But I do cherish the experiences I have with friends and the moments when I am able to put life on pause long enough to really see them and love them.

How Quickly It Could Go

2006-12-23T00:31:00.000-08:00

I was reminded Wednesday night while dining at Modern Thai and after feeling my first earthquake, brief but obvious, that my fabulous life in San Francisco could change in a matter of seconds. I was reminded again tonight when Elaine emailed asking if I had felt the quake twenty minutes earlier that shook Samira's house like crazy.

Fascinated -- and not in keeping with the holiday cheer I'm feeling otherwise -- I started exploring the Internet anew and found eyewitness accounts about the 1906 earthquake on The Virtual Museum of the City of San Francisco.

Here are some quotes pulled from stories. The descriptions are terrific.

On the morning of the 18th of April I was awakened from a sound slumber by a terrific trembling, which acted in the same manner as would a bucking broncho. My bed was going up and down in all four directions at once, while all about me I heard screams, wails, and crashing of breaking china-ware and nick-nacks. I was very quietly watching the clock on the mantel, which was doing a fancy stunt, while the ornaments in the parlor could be heard crashing to the floor. A great portion of plaster right over the head of my bed fell all around me. Peter Bacigalupi, San Francisco

Arnold Genthe's famous photograph of San Francisco following the earthquake, looking toward the fire on Sacramento Street (from Wikipedia.com)

I take no notice for the moment, and then, as the rocking continues, I get up and go to the window, raise the shade and look out. And what I see makes me tremble with fear. I see the buildings toppling over, big pieces of masonry falling, and from the street below I hear the cries and screams of men and women and children. Enrico Caruso, on tour in San Francisco

My mother then went after some stuff to eat so that we wouldn’t be without something if we had to go up to the hills to get away from the fire. By the time it was gaining headway and cinders from the fire came floating down on us until there was a thin layer of them all over the yard. Lloyd Head, a member of the Roosevelt Boys’ Club

My Blessed Life in SF and Its Close Ties to Karaoke

2006-12-22T00:05:00.000-08:00

I was hesitant to move to San Francisco after not quite finishing my time in New York. But love prevailed and I came back west on June 15, 2003 saying, "I'll give it a try for three months." Even though I knew I was coming for good.

But part of moving is making new friends and finding a new home. I left dear friends in New York and slipped slowly into SF life.

With the holidays here I find myself reflecting on my very full life now. More than three years later and more than five years into my relationship with Van and our lives are full and blessed by dear friends -- some of whom were a blast from the past -- all of whom have enriched my life in ways I could not have predicted.

And now a big flourish for Karl and Michelle.

We met officially at Martuni's but we quickly found our way to where else but The Mint. Yes, a karaoke bar. (Karaoke is incidentally where I met Van in 2001, but more on that later.) Soon the fabulous K&M were brightening our then burgeoning annual Christmas Eve Eve party, then we were off to a trip on the Napa Wine Train, and soon many more wine tastings, dinners, movies, karaoke nights (poor Karl), Yum Yum Clubbing, trips, fundraisers, and more. We are in love with Karl and Michelle. Michelle sings a mean Shania, Dixie Chicks, Tanya Tucker, and Suzanne Vega -- to name a few.

And then Becky came back into my life. Let's see. Becky and I met as CAs (really RAs but for on campus apartment housing) at ACU. We've been through it all -- and under a variety of scenarios and constraints. We kissed once on a piano bench -- to our mutual horror. Twas like kissing a sibling.

Now Becky is a globe trotting business owner of ten years with more gusto than one person should legally have. And I adore her more than ever. Becky sings a mean "Summer Nights," but generally flits around pretending she has a song waiting in the queue. (Yes, that is fabulous Michelle in the green shirt behind Becky. Oh the photos this night produced. They would singe your eyebrows if you saw them all.)

A big surprise through work has been my fabulous friendships with Anette, Elaine, and Nick (among others not pictured here so I'll have to talk about them later).

Like Karl & Michelle -- and more of the gang we'll meet in a minute -- Anette, Elaine, and Nick are crazy fun seeking lovers of life who I simply adore and don't see enough of. Anette doesn't even pretend that she will sing and I'm waiting for the day she gets gone enough to lay one down. Elaine sings a very mean Heart and Nick sings a great "All of Me."

And then Nikkol comes onto the scene two years ago saying, "I don't like karaoke," but boy does she get an earful around this crew and soon she is up in the mix singing "Don't Break My Heart" by Toni Braxton and bringing down the house.

A fab member of the Yum Yum Club, Nikkol is quick to laugh off a red wine stain on her cream colored sweater ... oh the stories she could tell. (Who started it again?)

A moment of solidarity and non-photo-ness for Ana Ana Ana Ana Ana-Marie. Whom I adore.

Our Boyz In Da Hood here, Karl, Nick (yes another Nick) and Van. Nick is the highlight in this photo since I've already mentioned Karl and I'll give Van a special shout out in a second.

Nick is just one crazy-ass-biatch who has so much gumption that he hooked up with a guy running for Congress and actually got the guy to win! He even got Bill C. (of I did not have sex with that woman fame) to stump for his guy. Like most of my friends, Nick laughs -- seriously laughs -- with ease. And he is fond of belching frequently without apology. Although Nick's love of music is so great that he cannot be bothered with our musical destruction of his favorite songs, so the words "Nick" and "karaoke" are rarely paired.

So this is a strange trio. Karaoke bar owner Chris, me, and Elizabeth (who p.s. has seven children ranging in age from 7 to 23 doesn't she look great!).

Here we are singing Patsy Cline's "I Fall to Pieces" in three part screamony. Although Elizabeth was doing GREAT. Now we know where her children get their talent.

This doesn't represent all of the fabulous people in my life on the West Coast, but it does represent all of the photos I have readily available on my Snapfish account. Just a glimpse of the people who make me happy.

One last photo for the road:

And before I close, I have to give the biggest shout out to my husband, Van, whom I love and adore more than I thought would ever be possible. Sometimes I leave him tucked away and sleeping in the morning (reading between the lines, he's actually the one who leaves ME sleeping since he generally leaves for work earlier) and I am overwhelmed by love to the point of tears. The odds were stacked against our meeting -- my living in New York and his living in San Francisco.

But in 2001 he made a last minute flight destination change (from Mexico to New York) and I decided out of pity to attend a mutual friend's birthday party after begrudgingly shopping all day for t-shirts with a visiting friend. Van and I ended up at this karaoke bar birthday party. The moment he walked in the door I forced a book in his lap and turned on all of the charm I could possibly summon. Three days later we found out that we grew up in the same denomination (which technically calls itself non-denominational ... ok) and the cement started to set.

This photo is my new favorite of us. Complete, uninhibited love.

An all too familiar story

2006-12-12T09:56:00.000-08:00

Denver Pastor Resigns Over Homosexuality

Isn't it time for the church to realize something? My heart hurts for these people -- and their wives and their children and....

My Favorite Movie Reviewer

2006-12-10T14:43:00.000-08:00

Dave White, "Your Man at the Multiplex" of Movies.Go.Com is my favorite movie reviewer.

He is quick, deadpan, and usually right on, saying what I felt like saying after seeing, say, a movie like The Holiday, which I saw last night with Elaine. Yes, we walked away feeling well -- and like it was just the kind of movie we needed (namely because it reminded both of us that we need vacations, too). Although we knew it wouldn't win any Oscars and I was self-consciously aware that I was agreeing that I liked a pile of schlock.

But Dave White has a way of communicating how I feel.

Today, however, I searched through Dave's past movie postings to see if he ever has anything positive to say, and of course the fag was crazy about Brokeback Mountain. I was, too. But I don't poo poo every other movie ever made. That aside, I thought he fittingly summed up Brokeback (after plugging his sap leaking hole) like this:

Movie Math: Titanic + Same Time, Next Year + Romeo + Juliet - Juliet = Brokeback Mountain

Mexican Just Got Spicier

2006-12-09T21:41:00.000-08:00

Around the corner from our apartment is San Francisco's answer to West 43rd and 8th Ave in New York: the "World Famous Nob Hill Theatre."

I walk by the place at least four times a week and can't help but take a gander at the photos of performers on the outside displays with towels, cartoon stars, and fig leaves strategically covering their bits.

I've never ventured in. In fact the whole thing makes me roll my eyes just a bit.

But tonight, while just around the corner at a nearby Mexican restaurant, I had the eavesdropping pleasure of hearing some porn star chatter.

It seems that everyone in every occupation must muse on his craft, because with the intensity and analysis these boys were sending into the world, you'd think they were preparing to perform the next nationwide tour of Macbeth.

The boys -- clearly porn stars what with their chiseled bods and square jaw lines -- discussed how their performance for the live audience could be enhanced if the stool could be just a few inches taller. And how their audience is such a diverse crowd -- given its mix of young and old, tourists and locals. Porn is apparently no discriminator of ethnicity or socio-economic status. The boys chattered a bit about the weather in San Francisco versus New York and Miami. And they compared horror stories about various toys, swings, devices, and apparatuses.

While thinking, "These boys bound for the Robin Byrd Show (NY), if they haven't already appeared there multiple times," my eavesdropping was interrupted when a hillbilly tourist to my left confessed to his table mate: "Since I was eight, I haven't hit a woman, if you can believe it."

Mexican food just got a whole lot spicier.

Forced Gifting

2006-12-08T20:23:00.000-08:00

I'm not usually a Christmas gift giver. I hate being told when and how I have to give a gift. I'd much rather be spontaneous and spend my dough on someone I love because I happen across something that reminds me of them in a moment of fondness. Rather than charging around like the dickens trying to find a perfect gift, yada yada.

I've been hit and miss with nephews and nieces. Shame on me. But truthfully they don't expect much since I have been hit and miss since they were born. (Some of them prolly don't even know who I am.)

Tonight, however, I went shopping for myself (as usual) and suddenly found myself thinking about Van. So I bought him some gifts. Hmm. This might be kind of fun.

I Wanna Go To This Church

2006-12-05T21:44:00.000-08:00

Great Hair

2006-12-04T19:47:00.000-08:00

With me, good hair is like Bigfoot. A fleeting beast that only rears its hairy head every now and then.

Well, today was a hit. And so was yesterday. I've finally grown through the gnarly stage and after getting a haircut on Saturday that is too fab for words (cutting the back up again to match the front), I'm enjoying the fruits of my long-hair growing labor.

And this while I still have it. 'Cause heaven knows it's a-leavin' every day in the shower, despite my Propecia attempts to keep it there.

But today I basked for a moment. Great clothes (from a weekend shopping spree) and an even greater haircut. A woman ON THE BUS said, "I like your hair!"

It doesn't get any more real than that. Which makes me wonder: how many people were THINKING that? Ha ha ha! (I'll get a photo up soon, I hope.)

Karaoke & Beer

2006-12-01T08:52:00.000-08:00

Attempts to curb my karaoke cravings have proven unsuccessful lately. With spurts of culture happening now and then (when I attempt to cultivate broader interests like museums, art, theater, etc), I still find myself going back for a beer and a song.

Here's a pic of Van and me from Tuesday night (we missed Yum Yummers!). He says about the photo: "I wish I had smiled in the picture." But I think he looks fabulous, and besides, I can more closely examine whether my Arm & Hammer Complete Care Whitening Toothpaste is working (thanks Marquel for the tip).

Wednesday night we had dinner at Café Andrée (read my updated Yelp review about Café Andrée) downstairs and I had a Barney Flats Oatmeal Stout, a beer that is new to me by Anderson Valley Brewing Company. I highly recommend trying it. My other two favorite beers are: Negra Modelo from Mexico and Duvel from Belgium.

Yum.

P.S. I'm suddenly a walking commercial. But I really like talking about things that go in my mouth.

Pizza Cow

2006-11-29T00:09:00.001-08:00

I ate a slice of pizza tonight and feel like a cow. After eating "clean" food for over a month now (mostly) I feel like I used to feel when I slugged down an entire pizza.

At least I'm still working out (yes, 4:30 this morning, geez) and maybe by morning it will be gone.

Happy Holidays

2006-11-26T11:14:00.000-08:00

I love our apartment and here's a picture of part of it - a place where I spend a good deal of time with a book, glass of wine or tea, and thoughts about how pleasant my life has become.

This is part of what I'm thankful for. Happy holidays!

Who He'd Like to Meet

2006-11-25T00:12:00.000-08:00

Tonight I gasped out loud after reading that a former college roommate, Jason, would like to meet George W. Bush. And I lost my equilibrium while sitting here safely in bed (felt like I was falling backward) when I read that he would like to meet Bill O'Reilly.

Here's a cut and paste from his MySpace account:

Who I'd like to meet:
Jesus Christ, George W. Bush, Ed Hochuli (NFL football ref), Bill O'Reilly, Natalie Portman, Matt Lauer (because I want his job), Steve Wynn, the guys who started Google, Steve Jobs, and Walt Disney (when they unfreeze him)

What a difference ten years makes. I miss him and a host of other friends. But the differences are vast now.

Did you know?

2006-11-24T10:05:00.000-08:00

On this day after Thanksgiving, I thought you might want to know that:

"Hair is a 'very important issue that shows the people's cultural standards and mental and moral state.'"

At least it is according to the socialist country, North Korea (a la the BBC), which recently published the names and addresses of men who do not get a (short) haircut every 15 days.

The NK government

"stressed the 'negative effects' of long hair on 'human intelligence development,' noting that long hair 'consumes a great deal of nutrition' and could thus rob the brain of energy.

I wonder how they regard women.

Satisfying Work

2006-11-22T23:52:00.000-08:00

My days at the chorus I manage include a hefty bulk of my own admin work, despite my program director title with several people reporting to me in addition to over 200 volunteers, 14 faculty, and a board of directors that I could shoot half the time.

I recently stole a friend's favorite quote as my own and posted it near my office computer: "Life's tough, get a helmet." I also printed and posted a quote of my own: "This office pushes, prods, pulls, and pokes. Any questions?"

So it was my great pleasure this week to do something of substance. When forced to write a press release about a diversity scholarship I co-founded and have since cultivated with a board member, I pulled this detail from our stats.

In September 2004 (when I joined the chorus), we were at 10.3% diversity, with Caucasian, Asian, and Eurasian children serving as the "norm."

Today, we are at 32% diversity.

It's a satisfying number, albeit a ton of hard work. And while not perfect, we're headed in the right direction. The difference has been finding funding that allows us to actively recruit talent in schools from SF's most underserved neighborhoods, complete with tuition and transportation provided to each recipient.

Little Light Inspired One Word Answer Game

2006-11-20T22:49:00.000-08:00

From Udge. Word association. You can only answer with one word. No explanations.

1. Yourself: crowded
2. Your spouse: heart
3. Your hair: curly
4. Your mother: missed
5. Your father: bigot
6. Your favorite item: ring
7. Your dream last night: scandalous
8. Your favorite drink: zinfandel
9. Your dream car: rental
10. The room you are in: bedroom
11. Your ex: asian
12. Your fear: forgetfulness
13. What you want to be in 10 years: homeowner
14. Who you hung out with last night: cello
15. What you're not: genius
16. Muffins: luxury
17: One of your wish list items: peace
18: Time: scarce
19. The last thing you did: wrote
20. What you are wearing: pajama
21. Your favorite weather: snow
22. Your favorite book: Middlesex
23. The last thing you ate: sole
24. Your life: comfort
25. Your mood: fab
26. Your best friend: love
27. What you're thinking about right now: sleep
28. Your car: rented
29. What you are doing at the moment: resting
30. Your summer: fun
31. Your relationship status: loving
32. What is on your TV: blackness
33. What is the weather like: crispy
34. When was the last time you laughed: today

To You and Only You

2006-11-19T13:38:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's true. It's only you, honey.

Testeroney Update

2006-11-16T10:11:00.000-08:00

Since October 20, I have lost 10 pounds and have four more to go to get back to the fighting shape I was in nearly three years ago. Yesterday, I put on a pair of slacks with a 32" waist and they fit like a glove. (That's down from a 34" waist, I'm embarrassed to admit.)

Yippee!

But more importantly, things seem to have leveled out in my life. Mentally, physically, well ok, not spiritually but maybe that will get some tending down the road.

I've learned that there is a stigma around testosterone. I've also stuck to something I learned in New York: that my decisions are my own and I don't need to make anyone else agree. I just need to live my life as I see fit and the rest follows.

I'm looking forward to the future for the first time in many years -- and I daresay that my passion and zeal for life is back bitches!

Ten Things I Learned This Week

2006-11-11T10:13:00.000-08:00

1. "Guilty by association" can apply to things as small as a groaning elliptical machine.

2. Too many clients on your side job is confusing and you don't meet all of your deadlines.

3. Getting wasted on a Friday night really ups the chances that you will barf on your Armani coat.

4. Having an Armani coat makes you slightly paranoid.

5. Incompetent nincompoops aren't able to recognize greatness. Why bother trying to please them in the first place.

6. Egg whites each contain 8 grams of protein and to build muscle you should every day eat one gram of protein for every pound of body weight.

7. Barfing up your alcohol calories really helps however, the refresher course isn't worth the hassle.

8. The excitement of winning an election leads after winning to actually having to do the job.

9. I miss my husband when he is away.

10. My life in San Francisco couldn't be duplicated in New York. I need to live in both cities, 60% SF, 40% NY.

Added one hour later.

11. Low-fat peanut butter really sucks.

Babs says: "Shut the F**k Up!"

2006-11-05T18:36:00.000-08:00

You may have heard about Barbara Streisand's Shut the Fuck Up song, available by its creator on MySpace. I heard the edited version on Alice Radio last week and almost lost my marbles laughing. The creator even adds harmonies!

The mix comes from her retaliation toward a concert goer who harassed her from his seat after not liking her on-stage George Bush look-a-like joke. Go Babs!

Children, bosses, and clergy should NOT be nearby when you click the link above.

Best Healthy Dessert Ever

2006-11-03T21:25:00.000-08:00

Sufficient helping of fresh strawberries, washed and cut in halves or quarters
Place in martini or wine glasses
Drizzle in low-fat vanilla yogurt
Drizzle in honey
Freeze for 20-30 minutes
Kill yourself with healthy goodness eating the most wonderful, refreshing dessert you can ever imagine

Roasted Brussel Sprouts

2006-10-30T21:40:00.000-08:00

Oh my gosh, I tried this recipe tonight because I had all of the ingreditents, including fresh brussel sprouts. Roasted Brussel Sprouts, amazing. Try it. I substituted the pine nuts with almonds.

What Kind of World Do We Live In?

2006-10-28T22:34:00.000-07:00

I have several friends going through job searches. From time to time, I take a look at the job boards, myself.

I especially enjoy these kinds of nonprofit job postings:

Requirements

Budget management experience of no less than $4B
Supervision experience of up to 2,500 employees
Work 120 hours per week
Community relations with the mayor, governor, state senators, and president of the U.S., with close ties to the U.N.
National experience with goal to establish relationships with trans-lunar beings
Abiltity to sell first born to cause
Masters degree preferred

Compensation

$28,000-32,000 depending on experience

Please, may I have another?

Day Four

2006-10-23T21:50:00.000-07:00

Energy has continued. In fact I was up at 6:00 am today and at the gym soon after. Aside from that, stamina is there again. I no longer feel like I need to sit down all the time, take a break -- or a nap. I also still feel quicker, clearer-headed, and less irritable. But interestingly, I have less patience. No other noticeable signs yet.

In other news, Van's 33rd high school reunion on Saturday was enjoyable. It was a combined reunion for the h.s. classes of '71, '72, and '73. He looked flawless.

The reunion wasn't quite as Crypt Keeper-ish as I thought it would be. But the dancing 50, 51, and 52 year olds was really funny. Especially the Ph.D. in the ghastly short leather skirt, long straight 70's hair, and black clogs doing what would have been a pole dance, had she had a pole. In the words of Divine in the movie Polyester: "Please. Stop that hateful dancing."

Van's dear friend from high school Kristine (whom I have met several times before with her husband) flew in from Vegas for the festivties. And Fran, the third in the wheel that was once the gnarly trio (they graduated in 1973!) was one of the organizers.

Day Two

2006-10-22T04:01:00.000-07:00

Second day into T-trial period resulted in:

Dry mouth
Sensitive gums (whilst brushing)
Improved short-term memory and fabulous recall -- both have been steadily regressing over the past six years

Out for now.

Day One

2006-10-20T23:41:00.000-07:00

Today I got my TRT prescription and used it for the first time. The packaging says hormone levels will be normal within 24 hours and that I will start to notice changes rapidly. Definitely within two weeks. My doctor wants blood tests again in two months to assess where we are. Will I need more pumps? Less pumps? (Currently, I'm just "two pumps.") Will levels be too little, too much, or just right? He said the changes may or may not be noticeable and that I shouldn't expect a miracle.

Tonight I was inspired to clean the entire house. I feel energized in a way I haven't felt for a long time. And I use the word "energy" carefully. It is less like I've just finished six cans of coke and more like a backpack full of bricks has been taken off my shoulders.

Still, I'm suspect. Is this response just psychosomatic? This will be an interesting journey.

Full Circle

2006-10-19T09:29:00.000-07:00

Today I talked to a new résumé client who was referred by a former client of mine whom SHE hired four years ago - who was using a résumé I had written for him. They eventually became friends, she recalled his résumé when it came time for hers, and she came knocking.

Weird!

Perch

2006-10-17T21:36:00.000-07:00

Here's my favorite spot to sit in the house, resting and sipping a glass of wine or cider. The view of the city from this spot is beautiful - especially at night. Add some rain and it's heaven in a sixth story apartment!

No justice from these photos. I thought I'd do a close, closer, and over-the-edge perspective of my favorite bar downstairs, Lucid. Well, the roof anyway.

Hormones 101

2006-10-16T23:35:00.000-07:00

I am on Friday meeting my doctor at 11:00 a.m. to discuss the beginning of my testosterone replacement therapy regiment. Since the diagnosis four or five months ago revealing that my testosterone is flying at half mast, I have been on a roller coaster of emotions. Friday may mark the beginning of treatment.

What does my future hold? My own research has shown that the body and the mind are both impacted significantly by low hormone levels - especially when the levels are low by half. I have felt a bit like I might become a different person.

Van has shared that he is ready, come what may, for the potential outcomes of a partner on testosterone replacement therapy. I'm not sure I'm ready, but the alternative is equally frightening. (Female symptoms / problems.)

I plan to lightly catalogue my experience here in the coming months.

Favorite Wine

2006-10-15T21:38:00.000-07:00

My favorite vino used to be EOS Chardonnay. Buttery, round, and not too expensive. But now it's EOS Zinfandel. I can't exlain how round and easy it goes down. I've heard that zinfandel is becoming more popular. I can see why. I first found it at my favorite lounge, Lucid, downstairs when they ran out of the chard. I've never gone back.

If you want a solid wine on a budget, give EOS a try. I promise you'll love it.

P.S. If you get a chance to see The Queen, see it.

To Yelp or Not to Yelp

2006-10-11T23:44:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things to do is to Yelp. No, not bark like a neurotic lap dog. But to write reviews locally about anything from restaurants, bars/lounges, hair salons, and Web sites at Yelp.com!

It's big in SF and apparently available in Boston, Chicago, Seattle, L.A., New York, and more. I've found great consumer / patron recommendations -- and been wisely steered away from other best-avoided places -- all from Yelp.com's great every-man reviews.

If you like to blog, you'll love to Yelp. Check out my Yelp page. Then take the leap yourself to Yelping bliss!

I looooooove yooooou, toooooo!

2006-10-08T22:59:00.000-07:00

So, yes, Van is crazy.

We got back from Shortbus tonight (touching and sweet, not at all like a porno except for erect penises and cumshots - about time John Cameron Mitchell did something after my fav, Hedwig and the Angry Inch). I had a glass of wine. He had two.

So he's heading out to play pool with his buddies (an adventure I rarely accompany him on) and he's in the entryway saying some sort of goodbye something that I can't hear. The fan is on, he's whispering, and he's in the dark and I can't see him. (A statement he will read too much into later.)

So I say, "What?" several times and after he repeats several times in vain, he says, "You really wanna hear what I'm saying?"

Yes, I reply.

At the top of his lungs (all windows open in our apartment) in a nice, long, legato line he yells, "I loooooooove yooooou!"

Well, I got what he said, as well as a dose of embarassment.

Some things make more sense when you've had a few, so next time your significant other plans on screaming sweet nothings into the neighbor-filled night at 10:30 pm, be sure you've had a few yourself.

This post includes a fun new pic of me in my fun new jacket and hat. Nighty night!

P.S. I'm here to spread the love that is the book: Middlesex

Independie Shortbus

2006-10-08T18:30:00.000-07:00

I've coined a new word.

Marquel called and woke me up this afternoon, asking what I was doing. Still groggy, I said I was later going to an "independie" film.

Ha ha ha ha ha!

So I'm off to see Shortbus. I'm interested to see if it pushes the envelope as much as everyone says it does.

Vacation

2006-09-30T22:36:00.000-07:00

Photos from our villa in Puerto Vallarta, August 2006. Van looks great. No good photos of me, unfortch. What a vacation, though. I miss it.

Get Your Bling on the Cheap

2006-09-29T23:49:00.000-07:00

Oh, how I love BTiff.com. When Van and I were searching for the perfect ring, I still lived in New York. While shopping in the West Village, I happened upon a shop just off the 1/9 Christopher Street with a ring I could not resist. Yes, it's brushed metal (of whatever kinds) and cubic zirconia. But it draws attention constantly. (One day I'll have Karl and Michelle's jeweler make a platinum and diamond replica for us ... maybe on our 10th anniversary.)

But we didn't know when I called him from the shop on my cell -- New York to San Francisco -- that it would draw such attention in our life together. I just knew it fit what we were looking for by way of wedding bands.

Scroll down at BTiff.com to the sixth ring on the right, style #RG3336. Love it!

Tonight I think I'll buy another lovely ring or pendant. Whilst I'm spreading the word about my favorite faux jeweler.

Night night bitches.

Jim McGreevey

2006-09-25T00:55:00.000-07:00

Tonight I caught the Oprah encore airing of her interview with former New Jersey governor, Jim McGreevey, discussing his life after coming out of the closet and leaving office.

Aside from the fact that I will never be a governor, and I never married, and my parents are not supportive, I have to say that his story resonates more closely with me than any other coming out story I've heard to date.

His description of the torment -- knowing he was different and being called names by other children as early as six -- and then knowing for sure there was something very wrong when he hit 6th or 7th grade -- it could have been a carbon copy. His further struggle with lying, pretending, living an unauthentic life, hating himself while also taking an anti-gay position politically, of denying it to the point that he literally lived two lives inside his head -- it was all compelling and moving. Particularly when he ended the appearance by saying to America, "Please let gay kids be gay kids." I think that's the biggest wish I would have for children, but it's the hardest to do because nobody wants to think of kids being gay -- and usually kids growing up gay want to distance themselves as far away from it as they can.

I applaud Jim McGreevey for such an interesting, whole, and multi-dimensional outlook on what he says would never have happened if his hand hadn't been forced. Good for him. I'm ordering his book, The Confession.

Questions, Questions, Questions

2006-09-18T00:37:00.000-07:00

Little Light inspired me with her list, so I've copied it and added my own answers.

1. What time did you get up this morning?
It's Sunday, ya'll. 11:30a.

2. Diamonds or Pearls?
Can I say steak?

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Hollywoodland, tonight, not good

4. What is your favorite T. V. show?
Grey's Anatomy, Las Vegas

5. What did you have for breakfast?
Cheerios

6. What is your middle name?
David

7. Favorite cuisine?
American, French, Thai, Seafod

8. What foods do you dislike?
Hmm, not possible

9. What is your favorite chip flavor?
Salt and vinegar

10. What is your favorite CD at the moment?
We Will Rock You (London cast of the Broadway musical)

11. What kind of car do you drive?
Whatever I rent, don't own a car

12. Favorite sandwich?
The Californian on a roll (smoked turkey, swiss or provolone cheese, avacado, tomato, mustard, mayo, salt/pepper/squirt of lemon)

13. What characteristic do you despise?
Bigotry, mean-ness, ruthless career climber no matter who you ruin along the way

13a. What characteristic do you like about someone?
Humorous, curious

14. Favorite item of clothing?
Lord, there are so many, my new Armani coat I got for $40, originally $1,759 - nice being married to a retail guy

15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?
Just went to Puerto Vallarta, villa in the hills, private pool, I want to go back, can't think of a better place I'd love to see again

16. What color is your bathroom?
Coffee cream white with brown accents (chocolate brown shower curtain on shower, two multi-tonal brown curtains on bathtub, etc, etc)

17. Favorite brand of clothing?
Kenneth Cole usually works for me

18. Where would you retire to?
I'm happy right here in SF, but maybe to London if I could figure out how to be there long-term

19. What was your most memorable birthday?
My 25th when friends kidnapped me, forced me to put on a white leisure suit with powder blue shirt and took me to a "Stayin' Alive at 25" birthday party - as a non-traditional college student, I was "so old" to them. We all laugh now, thirty-somethings that we are.

20. Favorite sport to watch?
Nascar

21. Goals you have for yourself?
Trip to Africa, lose 12 pounds, enjoy life while it's here instead of always waiting for tomorrow

Soulforce Visits Abilene Christian University

2006-09-16T15:09:00.000-07:00

A while back, I blogged about missing some of the fundamental supporting "fence posts" in life, such as my parents, my church family, and my (christian university) alma mater.

I have been following an organization called Soulforce for more than a year now and was encouraged to see that Abilene Christian University treated them with dignity during their 2006 Equality Ride (while other christian universities and military schools arrested them and barred them from entering campus).

Soulforce's Web site contains anonymous letters from students who are currently attending christian universities, where homophobia is still going strong. Letters from the Closet demonstrates how homosexiality will never end. Which makes me wonder why people fight it so vehemently. It also illustrates that homosexuality is not a choice and highlights for anyone paying attention the agonizing conflict homosexuals experience when reconciling faith against who they are.

I came out in 1997. I recently read some of my own pre-1997 journal entries and they are extreme, incoherent, and frankly reflect someone I would steer clear of if I met him today. It isn't who I presented in public, but that was part of the problem. My public person was vastly different from who I was on the inside. It is no wonder that oppressed homosexuals kill themselves. I survived my teenage years because I believe in hell and was afraid of it. As funny as this is, I also survived because I blasted Amy Grant songs (this was the '80s) in my earphones for hours keeping bad thoughts away and "claiming" my value as an individual.

While I remain open, I still can't reconcile a Christian-based faith with my experiences with my parents and the body of Christians I grew up with, who have all rejected me.

It is also difficult to not have parents (who are alive and well in Oregon - my preacher father has a Web site called The Preacher's Study where he tells other people how to live).

It is difficult not to have a warm, accepting place as an alum. All of the data about my experience at ACU has been scrubbed from ACU's history books. This is funny but it stings. I was what ACU calls a "Sing Song Host" in 1996. In 2005, ACU invited hosts and hostesses from the past 50 years to attend Sing Song and perform a song (surely cheesy and an opportunity to look like idiots in front of young, current students). I was not invited, while my straight counterparts were.

I live most of my life not thinking about this topic. I would not go back in the closet or renounce who I am in order to reclaim my parents or my alumnus status at ACU. I live in San Francisco and three years ago moved from New York, where gay people are as ordinary as a sidewalk. We have to watch our backs sometimes, depending on the neighborhood. But for the most part we can be free to live our lives.

But while ACU has shown progress, I would still be expelled if I were a current student refusing to undergo counseling or the reparative therapy process.

This poor blog and its readers really get the brunt of this ongoing topic.

First Graders Need Therapy, Too

2006-09-10T14:29:00.000-07:00

One of the parents at the after school organization I work for called on Friday to say that her son would be taking a leave-of-absence this semester until they could see how he would do as he starts the first grade.

Um.

What?

Van suggested that instead of taking a leave, perhaps the new first grader might consider attending the two one-hour rehearsals each week, followed by a therapy session to get him through the new challenge. I thought he could top it off with a spa treatment -- weekly at least.

Maybe this regimen will give him hope for survival when it comes to the difficult transition into the first grade.

Big Boys, Old School, Always Behind

2006-09-06T10:11:00.000-07:00

Would someone please tell me why Katie Couric's new gig as the talking head on the CBS Evening News is such a landmark?

Hasn't anyone watched cable news for the past decade or more? Female anchors have helmed their own shows for years now.

I don't think it so much demonstrates a victory for women, although I'm happy for Katie for whatever that's worth, so much as it demonstrates how BEHIND THE TIMES are the big corporate, male led network news organizations.

Big boys, old school ... always patting themselves on the back for doing something that has been done for years. But always big enough to get away with the stupidity. Heard of the emperor's new clothes much?

And let's not even talk about how many queens have run other countries -- and how many presidents of other countries have been women. The United States is well behind. And yet, when we vote in our first female president, it will be lauded like Katie Couric as groundbreaking and the "first ever" yada, yada.

We should have had a female president years ago. This backward, half-assed country we like to think of as a free, developed nation. Phbt....

Billy Porter Article

2006-09-04T20:59:00.000-07:00

We humans find solace in hearing our story shared through someone else. That there is someone else out there who has endured a similar story. Mine is a Church of Christ story, and the female preacher in the story I've copied below would be burned at the stake in most COCs. But the experience is close. I continue to live this story. Even though I consistently try to drown it, trying to fit into the mainstream, well-balanced life of a 30-something grown up with a job. It constantly surfaces like a bobber pulled under the water for a moment, hiding, but leaping out again before settling again on the surface. I realize that perhaps I'm feeding a habit. Because what I just explained is how I lived most of my life on the "other side" before coming out. I consistently denied myself. And here I am doing it again. Alas, the article....

Broadway star, Billy Porter, wrote the following in a recent issue of The Advocate.

By Billy Porter

There’s an old hymn that says, “This little light of mine / I’m going to let it shine / Let it shine! Let it shine! Let it shine!” I used to sing this song in church when I was a little boy armed with the belief that the light inside of me was one that was worth shining. My voice was my direct connection to God, and I sang proudly in my Pentecostal church choir every week with the unwavering impression that God was a loving God and that I was one of his children. I was taught that God’s love was unconditional and that anyone could be the recipient of it—as long as they “believed in their hearts and spoke with their mouths.”

As early as the age of 7 I remember the adults in my life engaging in conversations behind closed doors, whispering to my mother about how “my light” might be shining just a little too brightly. For you see, my light was not a small simple light, it was opalescent—a rainbow of effulgent light whose colors were synonymous with sin. I didn't know why I felt sinful at the time; I just knew somewhere deep inside that I was. I prayed for deliverance. I prayed for a healing. I prayed for my light to shine an appropriate and subtle white: “Dear Lord, whatever is inside of me that’s not pleasing to you—take it out.” Then puberty hit, and I realized what all the fuss was about. The whispering and private conversations even became personal attacks from the pulpit. It seemed like not a single service could go by without some passive-aggressive minister or evangelist brandishing Leviticus 18:22 in my face. It became so toxic that I stopped wanting even to go to church since every time I was there I was either being told that I was an abomination and a disgrace or that AIDS was punishment for my homosexual urges. Something I didn't even have control over was causing an international plague. My light was dimming.

The straw that broke the camel's back came at the Believers Convention, where the now-famous televangelist Joyce Meyer was the headlining minister of the evening. The conference was happening in my hometown of Pittsburgh, and I was invited to be the soloist. Something in my spirit told me not to go, but my mother really wanted me to, so I accepted the invitation. My solo was situated in the service directly before Meyer was to bring forth “the word.” After finishing my song, I returned to my seat in the congregation, which was about three fourths of the way towards the back of the sanctuary. Meyer rose from her seat in the pulpit to preach, and the first words out of her mouth were, “Brother Porter, I want to talk to you. Won’t you stand up for me?”

I stood.

“The Lord spoke to me, and I have a word from Him. He told me to tell you that every time you come into the house of the Lord, you need to sit in the front pew. Because if you sit in the front pew every time you come into the house of the Lord, it'll keep you straight.”

There were audible gasps. I took the walk of shame to the front pew as the multiple thousands in the congregation glared in pious silence. Pastor Meyer proceeded to dive into her sermon and skillfully pull out some Bible verse that swirled her public outing of me into some message about living on the “straight and narrow.” My light was officially out.

“This little light of mine / I’m going to let it..."

I prayed to be fixed, but He didn't do it. I prayed to be healed, but I was still a homo. I spent a decade rejecting religion. I took my inappropriate light and decided to shine her elsewhere. There was no place for me at the table where the feast of the Lord was going on. I allowed the dogmas and arbiters of the religious right to take my God away. I lurked silently in the shadows of shame while my gay brothers and sisters were dying. And then on September 12, 2001, I woke up and my voice was gone. The only thing that made me want to live was gone. I prayed. I asked the Lord why. And then came Jerry Falwell’s blame: “I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way—all of them who have tried to secularize America—I point the finger in their face and say, 'You helped this happen.'"

And there it was again: my sexuality exposed as the cause of all the world's horrors.

Why

2006-09-04T20:28:00.000-07:00

Why can't I be on vacation for half the year?
Why can't I stop eating everything in sight?
Why do I have to spend every cent I earn?
Why can't I be satisfied with status quo?
Why can't we have a Democrat in office again?
Why am I getting wrinkles?
Why can't I take Rogaine and Propecia at the same time?
Why do I have to choose testosterone or osteoperosis?
Why am I so damned good looking?
Why are you laughing so hard at that last one?

Earthquake

2006-09-04T00:29:00.000-07:00

I realized yesterday that being soaped up in the shower might be the worst possible place to be during an earthquake. Before, during, and after.

Scenes

2006-08-19T12:18:00.000-07:00

While preparing my tomato soup and thinking about my stupid father again this morning (to keep a theme going), I realized for no related reason that my favorite television scenes of all time are:

1. Sex & the City's Miranda in bed with Steve, Steve wrapping his arms around her, Miranda asking, "Could you just tell me how long this is going to last?" That about sums up my feelings about snuggling. I like it from time to time, but I ALWAYS need to know how long it's gonna last. Tell me 30 minutes. I'm good. But don't tell me? It could last only 15 minutes but that's 15 minutes wondering how long this thing is gonna last. 'Cause I sure as hell can't sleep like that all night.

2. Sex & the City's Miranda trying to keep from eating an entire chocolate cake by putting it in the trash. That not being enough, she has to pour dish soap over the top of it!

I love them both.

Spite

2006-07-31T00:01:00.000-07:00

I've decided to change my last name because my father is a bigot.
I don't edit the nonsense articles submitted by the journalist board member who tells others I'm incompetent.

How Low is My Testo

2006-07-02T09:17:00.000-07:00

Apparently so low that I'm almost a eunich.

So, recent blood tests revealed that my testosterone is low. I can't explain how that can mess up your head. I'm considering replacement therapy, but not sure I like being in control of the very thing that will make my hair fall out. I am, after all, the only man in my family to still have a head of hair. Now we know why.

Nonetheless, the benefits are significant. Improved sex drive, improved memory and mental clarity, elevated mood -- goodbye chronic fatigue! -- all things I have been suffering with for years. Tack on the possibility, however, of a second puberty and it's a sobering decision.

I'm headed off to be camp director for ten days starting July 4, then leading a tour to a festival in Jackson, Wyoming. I think I'll wait to start therapy until I get back. I'd like to have my hair for at least another month.

Happy 36 To Me on June 27

2006-06-22T22:22:00.000-07:00

When I was 17 it was a very good year.

It was a very good year

for flirting with girls the best I could,

which wasn't very good,

I was shy and in between,

when I was 17.

When I was 21 it was a very good year.

It was a very good year

for a girl with brunette hair,

and legs up to there,

We had all kinds of fun,

when I was 21.

When I was 35, it was a very good year.

It was a very good year

for a boy with dreads down to there,

there were no lies, no loss,

just a never-ending love,

When I was 35.

Things That Drive Me Mad

2006-06-16T20:04:00.000-07:00

Cab snipers
$20 bills from the ATM
Mean people
People who think they know without listening first
Parking
Earthquake fear
Dysfunctional boards
People who don't pay attention and expect you to laugh off their mistakes
Lack of discipline
Panhandlers who say, "Oh, so now you're gonna talk back to me!"
People who call too often and have nothing to say
Exhaustion
Getting to the movies early - then being asked by a late arriver if I mind moving over one seat - fuck you!
Pocket change
When the cab meter clicks over just as the cab is stopping
Spotty wireless Internet connections
Gene Shallot

The Things I Miss

2006-06-12T23:33:00.000-07:00

I once blogged about "The Things I Love," which was a follow up to an essay by the same name that I wrote as a teenager -- leading me to win a statewide writing competition.

I'm now writing an essay called, "The Things I Miss" after coming out.

My parents
My alma mater
My church family
My sense of self -- which could have been drummed out in spite of my coming out
My singing career
My life as I knew it

Now why would anyone come out if it wasn't for good reason?

Target = Tar-jhay

2006-06-07T05:50:00.000-07:00

In college and the years that followed, my friends and I referred to the discount superstore Target as "Tar-jhay," creating a faux french word that made our discount shopping feel a bit less WalMart and a smidge more Saks. Er, Macy's. Moving to New York, I found that "Tar-jhay" was widely used colloquially.

Have you noticed lately in TV ads that Target has begun publicly embracing the slang? They use a series of french words -- "tres this" and "tres that" -- and wind it up by incorporating "tres Tar-jhay" at the end of the commercial.

Maybe this isn't new -- and maybe Target itself embedded the french slang into American culture so many years ago. But my Target awareness has been piqued again because of a recent visit after maybe six years away from mass discount stores.

You see, my office was robbed recently and I was in the market for a new stereo. I had purchased my stereo (thankfully) at a thrift store. (The robbers skipped the computers in my office -- going instead for the thrift store stereo and the top of my shredder. Not the whole thing. Just the top of the shredder. Perhaps they needed a cheese grater.) But back to the stereo. It had a five CD changer, bass boost and surround sound. All sorts of shizz.

This weekend I happily found a Tar-jhay that was just off of a BART stop (not having a car). I grabbed a friend and off we went. It was the re-education of Mr. Me, let me tell you. It's a bold new world at Tar-jhay and I wasn't prepared.

Did you know they don't sell regular stereos at Tar-jhay anymore? All they had -- save for two ridiculous little jobbers in the corner -- were white spacey-technoey sound devices that allow you to plug in your iPod. Your iPod! Not any old regular MP3 player (which I have in my phone).

Disgruntled and feeling behind the times, I decided to soothe myself by leaning on my big orange plastic cart and pace around the store a bit. Ah, the things I could find! But none of it truly appealed to me -- and secondarily, I didn't actually need any of it. Except a nose and ear hair trimmer. What has it come to?

But not to get off point -- yes, I realize a nose and ear hair trimmer could warrant a post unto itself -- the second slap in my "behind-the-times" reality check came when I noticed that I kept bumping the end of the cart into the shelves. Not having had any alcohol before or during my trip, I was confused. And then it slowly came to me that Tar-jhay had made its carts larger. They've super-sized their carts! What is this country coming to? Did some hugh consulting firm tell Target they should super-size their carts and Americans will buy more? Undoubtedly.

So they've discontinued big, fat grey-black CD-changing stereos. Added two inches to the end of the end of the shopping cart. Begun calling themselves Tar-jhay. And all I need when I visit my local Tar-jhay is a nose and ear hair trimmer?

I must have passed unaware into some middle-aged oblivion. Can cataracts be far off?

Happily, I can't say I'm concerned beyond a half page blog entry. I think I'm going to enjoy the second half of life -- stereo or not.

Not Ready to Make Nice

2006-04-01T23:27:00.000-08:00

When was the last time I was compelled to blog twice in a day? Let alone list song lyrics? Maybe the 8th grade?

I just heard the Dixie Chick's new song "Not Ready to Make Nice," which was their response to President Bush's anger surrounding lead singer Natalie Maine's London concert comment about her embarassment that the U.S. president was from her home state of Texas.

The song made me think of my bigot father again and I thought it was appropriate to list the lyrics here. I've taken the liberty of changing six or seven words to fit my life.

This is my new "I'm 35 and gay hear me roar" song:

Not Ready To Make Nice

(written by Emily Robison, Martie Maguire, Natalie Maines, Dan Wilson)

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I'm not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I'm still waiting

I'm through with doubt
There's nothing left for me to figure out
I've paid a price
And I'll keep paying

I'm not ready to make nice
I'm not ready to back down
I'm still mad as hell and

I don't have time to go round and round and round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should

I know you said
Can't you just get over it
It turned my whole world around
And I kind of like it

I made my bed and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets and I don't mind sayin'
It’s a sad, sad story when a father will teach his

Church that they ought to hate a perfect stranger
And how in the world can who I am
Send somebody so over the edge
That they'd write me a letter

Saying that I better change

or I'd spend my after life in hell

I'm not ready to make nice
I'm not ready to back down
I'm still mad as hell and

I don't have time to go round and round and round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I'm not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I'm still waiting

Moving On

2006-04-01T18:09:00.000-08:00

So, I'll either let the last blog entry sit there glowing like an ember I shouldn't touch, or I'll move on. I'm moving on.

But what to write about after such a dramatic reveal? I'll write about the Yum Yum Club, my fabulous group of friends who every Thursday night get together to eat! My favorite topic. Van, Michelle, her husband Karl, Nick, Nicole, and sometimes Dawn. What fun we have every Thursday night. All prompted by Michelle's New Year's resolution to see more of her friends every week. It's working and THEN some!

In concept, we're supposed to migrate around to our different apartments. In practice, we all flock to Michelle and Karl's apartment in Oakland like it's the latest religion. We love their loft. Can I say it again? We love their loft. Plus, Michelle cooks like no other on the planet. Five heart-attack mac-and-cheese comes to mind as I remember a recent down home splurge that left me rolling back to BART and nearly needing a cab to get up our hill back home once in the city. Another meal theme was inspired by the foods we loved as children. Van and I hosted a similar brunch a year ago where everyone had to bring a breakfast food they loved as a child (I'm still remembering the Honeycomb cereal!). At the recent dinner version of the same theme I brought spaghetti shells with Ragu. I forgot the orange Crush, which I was supposed to bring, reminding me of Saturday nights spent at my grandmothers house. She let us pick whatever we wanted at the store for dinner, as well as for the next morning's breakfast. It was always spaghetti shells, sauce out of a bottle, orange and/or grape Crush, and Doritos. For breakfast we always chose Apple Jacks. Yum!

So, what do I love about the Yum Yum Club? I love that it's kind of like getting into a giant sandbox every Thursday to let everything go. We play board games and drink good (sometimes not so good) wine. And we laugh. That's the most important thing. We laugh like third graders gone wild in Mazatlan.

How I love the Yum Yum Club. I'm a lucky one, I am. I love making every day count. Van and this great city of San Francisco have taught me that.