**DISCLAIMER: Some portions of this blog may be falsified or exaggerated for comic purposes; names and/or genders may be changed to protect the Ignant. No defamation of any people, places, or institutions is intended**
Ok so I have had a lot to say/write/blog but I've been keeping a lot of it to myself. I've been keeping myself to myself as well. Between working at the Colledge & the Med Skool I've been just about making ends meet financially but I haven't had the $$ to do a lot of socializing. Plus the unseasonably warm weather has kept me & my little scarves away from the craft fair scene, so even less holiday cheer than usual. Meh. But enough of this money belly-aching, why don't I tell you some funny stories from El Profe?
So Colledge students were a really mixed bag this semester. In one of my classes there was a group of 3 girls who were always standing in front of the building, smoking and talking crazy when I arrived, usually about 10 minutes prior to class. My routine was to go past the classroom, get a sip of water down the hall, and then come back to the room. Well, their routine was to wait until I got back into the classroom before they came in, usually at least 2 minutes after class started. It didn't matter if there was a quiz or a test, these Hoes couldn't be bothered to, IDK, look over the material or study or anything. Sometimes they would have some questions for me before class, but they were always things they ALREADY had the answer to, they just didn't bother to look. Like things that were in the book, often on the SAME PAGE. These were also the same Hoes that often forgot to bring their books. Or backpacks. Or even a pencil.
Some students had abysmal attendance, and if they showed up on days when there were quizzes, they answered less than half of the questions, and then got all of those wrong. One student just made words up. I speak 3 languages & I have no idea what "queremotos" means in any of them. Sigh.
One student went MIA for several days & I received an email from some member of the college admin, asking me to excuse his absences due to the loss of his sister. He came back on the day we had a test but just looked a mess. I could tell he was about to start crying, or had been crying recently. I said, look, I will just double your next test grade if you want to take today off. He said thanks & left, and I didn't see him again for several days, when he & his mom stood in the doorway of my classroom while I was lecturing to another class until I stopped and stepped out into the hallway & closed the door and I saw that his face was all busted up. His mother did the talking & let me know that his boyfriend had beat him up & they were about to go to court to testify about this domestic violence incident. He reappeared periodically, but rarely in a state I would call sober. I'm not begrudging the child a lil comfort--lord knows if anyone has a reason to do drugs, it's him. But child, if you are gettin so high on whatever it is that you are not able to keep both eyes open at the same time, maybe it is not the time for you to be in skool. He had several days of attendance accumulated, and came to the review for our 2nd test, but not the test itself. On the day after the test, I was sitting outside of the building, smoking before class when Mr Man shows up & immediately starts questioning me about grammatical stuff. I said, "Hold up. You are talking like the test is today. It was last time."
Blank stare. "What do you mean? I thought the review was for today's test?"
Me: "OK well that does not make any sense. Why on Earth would I give a test review a week in advance?"
More Blank Stare. "Well, what happened was I was kinda missing my ex, I know it is wrong since he hurt me so bad, but I came across this stash box of his in my house and I was looking through it, and it made me really depressed and sad so I went to my bedroom and took a nap."
Me: "So what was in the box? Drugs?"
Lick-lipping & 1 eye at half-mast: "Well, mostly just paraphernalia. Empty baggies and mirrors and straws & stuff."
At this point I'm thinking, Bitch PLEASE. You came across some kind of leftover drugs & did them & then laid down to go feel good up in your body.
But he goes on: "So when I woke up from my nap, my parents had let themselves into my house & my lawyer was there & so were the police. They didn't arrest me, but they did follow me down the street after I argued with my parents & started walking towards campus, but then I went back home & talked to them & I thought the test was today & now you tell me it was last time & what do I do???." Commence waterworks.
WOOOOH. STOP. Seriously, I am not your therapist. Certainly not when the paycheck amounts to $100 per class per week. I said something comforting but I really seriously did tell him to re-consider dropping the class. I mean, the child is having a bad one. It really was time for him to take a break. But no, he stayed enrolled & never showed up to the Final, so there you have it.
More than twice I had to remind students that there was a sign that clearly stated "No Eating or Drinking in this Room." YES, I am serious. I am not just talking about a soda on a desk. This one student had Lunchables, a big can of Arizona Iced Tea and a Lil Debbie Snack Cake! I just stared and stared & shook my head & then walked over to the sign I mentioned & pointed at it.
Of course, it wasn't all as grim as it probably sounds here. I did have some delights, and I am grateful for them. I am even more grateful that the semester is over & I am bout to embark on my Winter Pilgrimage to the Ville, for plenty knitting, crazy talk with Geese, fellowship with Sandi & co, Doctor Who X-mas Special & the latest season of Misfits! Since Michael Jayston (The Valeyard) will be at Gallifrey One in February, maybe I will bring the Trial of a Time Lord DVDs.....
Speaking of Gallifrey One, if anyone is interested in a trunk show, please let me know, I still have plenty glamour hats/scarves for the current Cold Snap & am trying to raise a lil extra $$ for February! Of course, if you just want to contribute to the cause, you can feel free to PayPal me at sammikat@hellokitty.com ;-)
Anywho, thanks for reading.
Next Time: I go into the Vault & tell you one of those "Crazy Hoes I Used to Know" kinda stories....
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Compliance (2012)-- A Review
"When a prank caller convinces a fast food restaurant manager to interrogate an innocent young employee, no-one is left unharmed. Based on true events."--http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1971352/
We all know about this story, either from the news reports of the time, or maybe just that Law & Order:SVU Shocking Season Finale that ripped it from the headlines. The initial reaction, I think, is for us to say: "Well those people must be stupid! I would never do anything like that!" When the actual fact is that this was not some one-off event. It happened at least 70 times (probably more if you think how many people didn't go "all the way" or didn't report it out of shame). If you don't believe me:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strip_search_prank_call_scam
What I can't believe is that writer-director Craig Zobel (the comic genius behind http://homestarrunner.com/) has crafted one of those rare horror films where no blood is spilt, no one is disemboweled or made to eat anyone else's bowels, yet afterwards I was left feeling deeply unsettled and horrified. Ann Dowd is Sandra, a ChickWich manager having a terrible day (OMG the freezer was left open & the bacon is spoiled! We are out of pickles!!) and her fellow ex-L&O guest star, Dreama Walker, is Becky, the 19-year-old accused of theft over the phone by "Officer Daniels" (Jeff Healy). What follows is a film that is by turns kitchen-sink real and hyper-surreal as the voice over the phone manipulates Sandra & her not-quite-fiancé, Van (Bill Camp, another L&O ex-guest), into victimizing Becky over most of the course of a busy Friday evening shift.
The camera-work is outstanding, often subtly underscoring change in mood within the confines of the back office of ChickWich, contrasted with deep-fryer imagery overlaid with the voice on the phone or another unexpected sounds. The performances are absolutely top-notch as well, with Dowd's subtle, nuanced character setting a high bar that the rest of the cast manages to attain. Several reviewers on imdb dismiss this as being 90 minutes of dumb people doing dumb things, but I think that's entirely too simplistic. The characters don't come off as stupid to me but just as people under stress trying to do what is presented to them as being the right thing, even when they know it is Wrong, All Wrong.
I definitely have to put this in the Let You Have It Film Category & I give it an unabashed 5/5 stars!!
We all know about this story, either from the news reports of the time, or maybe just that Law & Order:SVU Shocking Season Finale that ripped it from the headlines. The initial reaction, I think, is for us to say: "Well those people must be stupid! I would never do anything like that!" When the actual fact is that this was not some one-off event. It happened at least 70 times (probably more if you think how many people didn't go "all the way" or didn't report it out of shame). If you don't believe me:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strip_search_prank_call_scam
What I can't believe is that writer-director Craig Zobel (the comic genius behind http://homestarrunner.com/) has crafted one of those rare horror films where no blood is spilt, no one is disemboweled or made to eat anyone else's bowels, yet afterwards I was left feeling deeply unsettled and horrified. Ann Dowd is Sandra, a ChickWich manager having a terrible day (OMG the freezer was left open & the bacon is spoiled! We are out of pickles!!) and her fellow ex-L&O guest star, Dreama Walker, is Becky, the 19-year-old accused of theft over the phone by "Officer Daniels" (Jeff Healy). What follows is a film that is by turns kitchen-sink real and hyper-surreal as the voice over the phone manipulates Sandra & her not-quite-fiancé, Van (Bill Camp, another L&O ex-guest), into victimizing Becky over most of the course of a busy Friday evening shift.
The camera-work is outstanding, often subtly underscoring change in mood within the confines of the back office of ChickWich, contrasted with deep-fryer imagery overlaid with the voice on the phone or another unexpected sounds. The performances are absolutely top-notch as well, with Dowd's subtle, nuanced character setting a high bar that the rest of the cast manages to attain. Several reviewers on imdb dismiss this as being 90 minutes of dumb people doing dumb things, but I think that's entirely too simplistic. The characters don't come off as stupid to me but just as people under stress trying to do what is presented to them as being the right thing, even when they know it is Wrong, All Wrong.
I definitely have to put this in the Let You Have It Film Category & I give it an unabashed 5/5 stars!!
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Triflin' Once Again
Or maybe it's more like Trifled With Once More.
Anywho, as most of you will already know, I have been teaching 2 sections of Spanish 101 & 1 section of Spanish 102 since August 20th, for the princely sum of $1800 per class, paid out according to the "latest approved part-time contract pay schedule" (quoted from the contract I signed.) My understanding is that these trillions are to be meted out every 2 weeks. A glance at a calendar will tell you that my 1st payday was ideally this past Friday, September 7th. I checked my online bank acct, and Surprise! No paycheck. Did I mention that I was already pretty strapped PRIOR to Hurricane Isaac & at this point, September's rent is not paid, and nor are any of my regular bills & I have about $58 to last until (drumroll please) September 21st? Yes, Gentle Readers, apparently the "approved part-time contract pay schedule" of which I received no copy, stipulates (according to a friend who teaches there, absolutely no administrator--not even my immediate boss--has bothered to return any of my calls or emails) that the 1st paycheck for an adjunct is 1) a paper check and 2) not disbursed until the 2nd payday in the pay cycle. I went thru this over the summer, but I expected it as it was my 1st time teaching there & not all of my info was in the system. But Bitch, REALLY?
This is 2012. Who uses paper checks any more? Releasing funds (especially for an institution of this size) is simply a matter of pointing & clicking.
Have I mentioned that admin or IT or whoever still has yet to re-authorize the email address that I used over the summer? That's right, sweeties, my previous email was shut down the instant I turned in my final grades and according to the guy who answered the phone in my department, they are waiting on "access letters" from IT that will permit me to have not just email access, but also access to the Colledge's other online functions, such as viewing my class rosters (yes I seriously still have no idea who should & should not be in ANY of my classes), not to mention the online portion of our textbook, which requires an email address ending in ".edu."
So here I am, feeling like the heroine from a Tennesee Williams play, writing my status updates in the 3rd person, just praying that I can somehow beg borrow or steal the $$$ to keep my screens (phone, PC, TV) active & refridgerator running & the roof over my head until one of the quasi-literate full-time employees at the Community Colledge (seriously, the word "impeccable" is beyond the secretary's capacity) decides to point & click & let me have what I have earned.
Ugh. Sorry this isn't all light & funny & uplifting.
Anywho, as most of you will already know, I have been teaching 2 sections of Spanish 101 & 1 section of Spanish 102 since August 20th, for the princely sum of $1800 per class, paid out according to the "latest approved part-time contract pay schedule" (quoted from the contract I signed.) My understanding is that these trillions are to be meted out every 2 weeks. A glance at a calendar will tell you that my 1st payday was ideally this past Friday, September 7th. I checked my online bank acct, and Surprise! No paycheck. Did I mention that I was already pretty strapped PRIOR to Hurricane Isaac & at this point, September's rent is not paid, and nor are any of my regular bills & I have about $58 to last until (drumroll please) September 21st? Yes, Gentle Readers, apparently the "approved part-time contract pay schedule" of which I received no copy, stipulates (according to a friend who teaches there, absolutely no administrator--not even my immediate boss--has bothered to return any of my calls or emails) that the 1st paycheck for an adjunct is 1) a paper check and 2) not disbursed until the 2nd payday in the pay cycle. I went thru this over the summer, but I expected it as it was my 1st time teaching there & not all of my info was in the system. But Bitch, REALLY?
This is 2012. Who uses paper checks any more? Releasing funds (especially for an institution of this size) is simply a matter of pointing & clicking.
Have I mentioned that admin or IT or whoever still has yet to re-authorize the email address that I used over the summer? That's right, sweeties, my previous email was shut down the instant I turned in my final grades and according to the guy who answered the phone in my department, they are waiting on "access letters" from IT that will permit me to have not just email access, but also access to the Colledge's other online functions, such as viewing my class rosters (yes I seriously still have no idea who should & should not be in ANY of my classes), not to mention the online portion of our textbook, which requires an email address ending in ".edu."
So here I am, feeling like the heroine from a Tennesee Williams play, writing my status updates in the 3rd person, just praying that I can somehow beg borrow or steal the $$$ to keep my screens (phone, PC, TV) active & refridgerator running & the roof over my head until one of the quasi-literate full-time employees at the Community Colledge (seriously, the word "impeccable" is beyond the secretary's capacity) decides to point & click & let me have what I have earned.
Ugh. Sorry this isn't all light & funny & uplifting.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Another One Down...
...and by that I mean a hurricane. No, not those nasty drinks that underage locals & grown-up tourists consume until they puke, but another Storm, this one called Isaac. Unless you live under a rock, you already know that this one just happened (?) to hit on the 7 year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, that watery bitch who flooded New Orleans and turned my (and so many others') life completely upside-down.
Many of you will remember that August 29 is a big personal anniversary for me: it was the tape date of my appearance on the Weakest Link 10 years ago, and at this time last year, I began working with 3rd graders at the International School of Louisiana, a language immersion elementary school here in NOLA. I'm sure other things of note have happened to me on or around this date, but these are the ones that immediately spring to mind.
I evacuated for Hurricane Katrina with 2 co-workers/friends, both of whom have since dematerialized from my life with little to no explanation. This time, though, I stayed. My so-called wife offered me a ride out to the Smoky Mountains, but I stayed. I remembered being an anxious, nervous, bitchy wreck the last time I evacuated, so I stayed. A Category 1 Storm, I said to myself, is no big deal, I'll be fine. Even if the power goes out, it will be on soon enough, and I'm not all that dependent on electricity anyway. I still ended up being an anxious, nervous, bitchy wreck, but I'm sure most people who deal with me regularly will tell you that is my demeanor in general, so there you have it.
Here is my Hurricane Isaac timeline:
Tuesday, August 28: Grey skies and rain and heavy wind all day. Power goes out for a moment around 6:30PM & then comes back on. Power goes out for good around 7:30PM. My living room is on the leeward side of the weather, so I just stay on the couch next to the open window, drinking wine & listening to the scary-ass winds blowing hard & feeling the house shake like it is the very last Bounce party ever.
Wednesday, August 29: around 2:30AM, after sending some morose drunken text messages, I power down my phone to conserve the battery. This is right around the time that the wind shifts and I'm woken from my twilight sleep by freezing rain on my face & bare chest. EEK! So I grab my flashlight & my battery-powered Hello Kitty clock radio & my Wonder Woman church fan (I took this with me when I evacuated 7 years ago) and install myself in my bedroom, on the opposite side of the house. This whole day is still rainy & windy & grey & at night the whole neighborhood is pitch black. The wind is so heavy that the rain pushes its way thru the cracks in my drafty old windows. It's really freaky to watch rain to come thru spaces that you can't even see. To conserve the radio battery, I listen to WWL for an hour or so at a time & learn about flooding in Laplace, and Braithwaite, and Plaquemine, and Venetian Isles, & oh so many places. To my shame I am glad it's them and not me.
Thursday, August 30: the rain has pretty much stopped by about 8ish AM & the heat is starting to work on my nerves (I live in a converted attic apt, & all the insulation in the world doesn't stop heat from rising) but around 8? 9? AM, my 2nd-oldest friend Eddie knocks on my door, lets himself in & I hear from downstairs "Hellooo! I've come to rescue you!" Hot Damn & Hallelujah! I quickly pack a bag & gratefully ride with Eddie to his place, which is on the same grid as Touro hospital & never lost power, although the Cox Cable & WiFi are out of order.
Friday, August 31-Sunday, September 2: Sleep on Eddie's couch, watch scary movies on his flat-screen TV, make friends with this awesome gal named Dana & her hot boyfriend, Dan, compulsively check Facebook & the Entergy Outage Map via 3G on my phone, send reassuring text messages to the people I prolly freaked out on Tuesday night, bitch about Entergy's slow response, stay grateful that it isn't worse than it is, watch the Season 7 opener of Doctor Who: Asylum of the Daleks (which Eddie downloaded via another Ho's WiFi). Go to Dat Dog on Freret Street & eat too much with Eddie. My beautiful Femme Friend, Kris Ford, comes by on Sunday to watch the new episode of Doctor Who. We walk over to Popeyes & have fun observing all the post-Isaac wrongness (Have I mentioned that this name is Hebrew for "He Who Laughs"? Hysterical) and go back to Eddie's place. He steps out to watch a movie with his husband & Kris & I watch more Doctor Who & at 6:14PM, get The Call from my landlady. When I answer the phone, "Hello?" all she says is "YES!! The power's back on! Come home whenever you're ready!" Frantically call everyone I can think of to bring me home. Erry body busy with they family or something & Kris gets her mom to bring me home. Get home, open the windows to let the air circulate, turn on the AC units & stand naked in front of them in turns, revelling in the glory of Electricity.
To paraphrase Kris, what I learned from Hurricane Isaac is that I'm only about 7 days without power from a complete nervous breakdown.
The End.
Or is it...The Beginning?
Many of you will remember that August 29 is a big personal anniversary for me: it was the tape date of my appearance on the Weakest Link 10 years ago, and at this time last year, I began working with 3rd graders at the International School of Louisiana, a language immersion elementary school here in NOLA. I'm sure other things of note have happened to me on or around this date, but these are the ones that immediately spring to mind.
I evacuated for Hurricane Katrina with 2 co-workers/friends, both of whom have since dematerialized from my life with little to no explanation. This time, though, I stayed. My so-called wife offered me a ride out to the Smoky Mountains, but I stayed. I remembered being an anxious, nervous, bitchy wreck the last time I evacuated, so I stayed. A Category 1 Storm, I said to myself, is no big deal, I'll be fine. Even if the power goes out, it will be on soon enough, and I'm not all that dependent on electricity anyway. I still ended up being an anxious, nervous, bitchy wreck, but I'm sure most people who deal with me regularly will tell you that is my demeanor in general, so there you have it.
Here is my Hurricane Isaac timeline:
Tuesday, August 28: Grey skies and rain and heavy wind all day. Power goes out for a moment around 6:30PM & then comes back on. Power goes out for good around 7:30PM. My living room is on the leeward side of the weather, so I just stay on the couch next to the open window, drinking wine & listening to the scary-ass winds blowing hard & feeling the house shake like it is the very last Bounce party ever.
Wednesday, August 29: around 2:30AM, after sending some morose drunken text messages, I power down my phone to conserve the battery. This is right around the time that the wind shifts and I'm woken from my twilight sleep by freezing rain on my face & bare chest. EEK! So I grab my flashlight & my battery-powered Hello Kitty clock radio & my Wonder Woman church fan (I took this with me when I evacuated 7 years ago) and install myself in my bedroom, on the opposite side of the house. This whole day is still rainy & windy & grey & at night the whole neighborhood is pitch black. The wind is so heavy that the rain pushes its way thru the cracks in my drafty old windows. It's really freaky to watch rain to come thru spaces that you can't even see. To conserve the radio battery, I listen to WWL for an hour or so at a time & learn about flooding in Laplace, and Braithwaite, and Plaquemine, and Venetian Isles, & oh so many places. To my shame I am glad it's them and not me.
Thursday, August 30: the rain has pretty much stopped by about 8ish AM & the heat is starting to work on my nerves (I live in a converted attic apt, & all the insulation in the world doesn't stop heat from rising) but around 8? 9? AM, my 2nd-oldest friend Eddie knocks on my door, lets himself in & I hear from downstairs "Hellooo! I've come to rescue you!" Hot Damn & Hallelujah! I quickly pack a bag & gratefully ride with Eddie to his place, which is on the same grid as Touro hospital & never lost power, although the Cox Cable & WiFi are out of order.
Friday, August 31-Sunday, September 2: Sleep on Eddie's couch, watch scary movies on his flat-screen TV, make friends with this awesome gal named Dana & her hot boyfriend, Dan, compulsively check Facebook & the Entergy Outage Map via 3G on my phone, send reassuring text messages to the people I prolly freaked out on Tuesday night, bitch about Entergy's slow response, stay grateful that it isn't worse than it is, watch the Season 7 opener of Doctor Who: Asylum of the Daleks (which Eddie downloaded via another Ho's WiFi). Go to Dat Dog on Freret Street & eat too much with Eddie. My beautiful Femme Friend, Kris Ford, comes by on Sunday to watch the new episode of Doctor Who. We walk over to Popeyes & have fun observing all the post-Isaac wrongness (Have I mentioned that this name is Hebrew for "He Who Laughs"? Hysterical) and go back to Eddie's place. He steps out to watch a movie with his husband & Kris & I watch more Doctor Who & at 6:14PM, get The Call from my landlady. When I answer the phone, "Hello?" all she says is "YES!! The power's back on! Come home whenever you're ready!" Frantically call everyone I can think of to bring me home. Erry body busy with they family or something & Kris gets her mom to bring me home. Get home, open the windows to let the air circulate, turn on the AC units & stand naked in front of them in turns, revelling in the glory of Electricity.
To paraphrase Kris, what I learned from Hurricane Isaac is that I'm only about 7 days without power from a complete nervous breakdown.
The End.
Or is it...The Beginning?
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
First "Love"
All that 20 year reunion angst plus a meet & greet with a classmate yesterday who didn't make it to the reunion has me thinking about something else, I guess I should say, someone else from that time. I use the L-word in quotation marks because I'm not sure that's what it was & if I used a more accurate word (starts w F), I think I'd get banned from this site.
3 days before I graduated HS, during that week off after Senior Final Exams & Graduation Day, one of my bullies came to my parents' house while everyone else was at work or school & deflowered me. Well, I guess technically I deflowered him, but you get the idea. He had been giving me obscene phone calls for about a year at that point, which alternately thrilled & terrified me. Once I realized who it was on the other end of the line (and that took several months) I didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Suffice it to say he was a bossy bottom on the phone (ooh lawd, & even more so in person) & I thought it was some kind of trap. He kept telling me he wanted me to come over to his house & do stuff to him & I kept thinking that if I showed up there would be a bunch of ppl from skool there to traumatize me so it never happened until that fateful day, when neither of us had to face high school again.That 1st time was awkward & over with pretty quick (I think it took less time than it did for him to walk, yes WALK, the 5 miles to my parents' house) but after that, I had no more doubt in my mind that I was 100% gay.
As you can prolly imagine, this guy presented (& I guess, still does present) as typically masculine & straight, with all the "right" manly interests, like sports & hunting & fishing. Meanwhile, I was/am fem & flamboyant, with "sissy" interests, like knitting & reading & writing. The opposites continue: he was thin & blond & his body mostly smooth while my curvy form was covered in dark, thick hair. We "saw" each other intermittently after this for years. I cannot even begin to tell you the things we got up to, the adventurous places we went for our torrid little unions, the way you do when you both live with your parents & need a place to go. There were empty lots, late at night, a motel by the hour located behind a XXX video store (we were 18, we hardly needed the whole hour), a sugar cane field behind which we later found out a serial killer had dumped a bunch of prostitutes' bodies, the cooler in one of the convenience stores where I worked, & of course, like just about everyone else in St Charles Parish--behind the levee.
There were no dates. I didn't get the flowers or the Valentine's Day gifts or the kisses on the mouth or whatever else it was he gave his girlfriends (of course, I always knew these girls but couldn't tell them for fear that he'd stop calling me), but I got---besides the obvious---validation? Confusion? It was like I was looking for something I'd lost combined with his morbid curiosity. It was all I had & I loved it.
Every single second.
Sure, I was angry that I always had to be mocked & ostracized for being a fairy while he flew under the radar, but all the humiliation just melted away once we were behind closed doors (or out in the cane fields, or wherever) & it became something else. Like gratitude & resentment all mixed up together and that energy directed thru the magnifying glass that is teen-age libido.
These days, I'd just say the boy was trade & be done with it. We never said the word love. Not until the last time. We were in my parents' garage (I think they were prolly asleep inside or some such scandalous thing), in some heretofore unattempted position (face to face for once) & he spontaneously said It: "I love you."
I said it back to him & our bodies exploded together & it felt like sunshine.
I didn't know then it would be the last time. Maybe I'd have done things differently if I had. Maybe I'd have said It first. Or not at all. Maybe I'd have told him not to talk (he was always telling me that) but I didn't.
I won't name his name, although I could, but I don't see any real reason to out him. I'm sure that his wife of umpteen years is more than aware of what a big bottom he is & it's not like he's some anti-gay Congressman or something. I wasn't always this enlightened, though. I did tell a few people when we were younger & most of them didn't believe me. I'm so serious. I remember telling a mutual friend of his & mine about it & she just kinda blew me off until I described the inside of his mom's house in detail & a few of his tattoos & then it was like I'd blown her mind.
But I didn't write this to wreck his reputation or augment my own. I'm not even sure why I wrote this, I just knew I had to. My writer friends will know what it is like: sometimes you have a story that needs to be told so badly that your fingers won't do anything else until you do, until the words get brave enough & channel themselves thru the keyboard, you can't eat/sleep/watch TV/do much else.
I wish I had some deep analysis of this, some "nugget of truth for you to wrap up & put on the mantelpiece," to (mis)-quote Virginia Woolf, but I'm not sure I'm capable of such a thing at this juncture.
Maybe in 20 more years.....
3 days before I graduated HS, during that week off after Senior Final Exams & Graduation Day, one of my bullies came to my parents' house while everyone else was at work or school & deflowered me. Well, I guess technically I deflowered him, but you get the idea. He had been giving me obscene phone calls for about a year at that point, which alternately thrilled & terrified me. Once I realized who it was on the other end of the line (and that took several months) I didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Suffice it to say he was a bossy bottom on the phone (ooh lawd, & even more so in person) & I thought it was some kind of trap. He kept telling me he wanted me to come over to his house & do stuff to him & I kept thinking that if I showed up there would be a bunch of ppl from skool there to traumatize me so it never happened until that fateful day, when neither of us had to face high school again.That 1st time was awkward & over with pretty quick (I think it took less time than it did for him to walk, yes WALK, the 5 miles to my parents' house) but after that, I had no more doubt in my mind that I was 100% gay.
As you can prolly imagine, this guy presented (& I guess, still does present) as typically masculine & straight, with all the "right" manly interests, like sports & hunting & fishing. Meanwhile, I was/am fem & flamboyant, with "sissy" interests, like knitting & reading & writing. The opposites continue: he was thin & blond & his body mostly smooth while my curvy form was covered in dark, thick hair. We "saw" each other intermittently after this for years. I cannot even begin to tell you the things we got up to, the adventurous places we went for our torrid little unions, the way you do when you both live with your parents & need a place to go. There were empty lots, late at night, a motel by the hour located behind a XXX video store (we were 18, we hardly needed the whole hour), a sugar cane field behind which we later found out a serial killer had dumped a bunch of prostitutes' bodies, the cooler in one of the convenience stores where I worked, & of course, like just about everyone else in St Charles Parish--behind the levee.
There were no dates. I didn't get the flowers or the Valentine's Day gifts or the kisses on the mouth or whatever else it was he gave his girlfriends (of course, I always knew these girls but couldn't tell them for fear that he'd stop calling me), but I got---besides the obvious---validation? Confusion? It was like I was looking for something I'd lost combined with his morbid curiosity. It was all I had & I loved it.
Every single second.
Sure, I was angry that I always had to be mocked & ostracized for being a fairy while he flew under the radar, but all the humiliation just melted away once we were behind closed doors (or out in the cane fields, or wherever) & it became something else. Like gratitude & resentment all mixed up together and that energy directed thru the magnifying glass that is teen-age libido.
These days, I'd just say the boy was trade & be done with it. We never said the word love. Not until the last time. We were in my parents' garage (I think they were prolly asleep inside or some such scandalous thing), in some heretofore unattempted position (face to face for once) & he spontaneously said It: "I love you."
I said it back to him & our bodies exploded together & it felt like sunshine.
I didn't know then it would be the last time. Maybe I'd have done things differently if I had. Maybe I'd have said It first. Or not at all. Maybe I'd have told him not to talk (he was always telling me that) but I didn't.
I won't name his name, although I could, but I don't see any real reason to out him. I'm sure that his wife of umpteen years is more than aware of what a big bottom he is & it's not like he's some anti-gay Congressman or something. I wasn't always this enlightened, though. I did tell a few people when we were younger & most of them didn't believe me. I'm so serious. I remember telling a mutual friend of his & mine about it & she just kinda blew me off until I described the inside of his mom's house in detail & a few of his tattoos & then it was like I'd blown her mind.
But I didn't write this to wreck his reputation or augment my own. I'm not even sure why I wrote this, I just knew I had to. My writer friends will know what it is like: sometimes you have a story that needs to be told so badly that your fingers won't do anything else until you do, until the words get brave enough & channel themselves thru the keyboard, you can't eat/sleep/watch TV/do much else.
I wish I had some deep analysis of this, some "nugget of truth for you to wrap up & put on the mantelpiece," to (mis)-quote Virginia Woolf, but I'm not sure I'm capable of such a thing at this juncture.
Maybe in 20 more years.....
Sunday, August 5, 2012
20th Reunion Recap
I have to start this blog with a truly heartfelt thank you for the amazing outpouring of support I received after the last post, not only on the interwebs but in person last night. I was truly afraid to share, and I'm so glad that I did.
I got to the party right as it was starting at 8 at the Mystère Manor on 4800 Canal St. Oddly enough, the 1st person that I talked to for any length of time was actually not someone from high school, but this guy I met at Nicholls State University during my 1st aborted attempt at higher education, straight out of high skool. We caught up for a bit & then I headed over to the open bar & had the first of oh-so-many Vodka/Cranberries. I was overwhelmed by how many people came up to me & told me that they'd read my previous post & truly understood, that they had felt like outsiders too. It would take me entirely too long to list everyone who came to me & treated me with kindness. Of course, there were one or two people who were stand-offish & that is absolutely fine. It didn't feel fake, it didn't feel forced, everything was just so easy after 20 years. Some of us got fat, some got skinny, some look older, some look the same, some look better (We know who we are) but we all looked happy to be there. The open bar may have had something to do with it, of course.
When the clock struck 11, the Haunted Mausoleum threw us out & I rode out with the Sassy Sherry Green-Vinturella & her lovely husband to Masquerade at Harrah's Casino, where some of Party Crew '92 were dancing & drinking. After a bit, we headed to the Famous Door on Bourbon for a live band & more dancing & drinking. Then, it was off to the Goldmine Saloon for, you guessed it, more dancing & drinking!! Before I knew it, though, it was past 3AM (like way, way past) & Sherry & her hubby were kind enough to give me a ride home with the requisite stop for Gas Station Fried Chicken Strips & an empanada onna way. I ate the empanada, 1 chicken strip & a few of the fries & set my alarm for 8 so I could wake up today & head over to Tulane Med Skool & ooh lawd the hangover wasn't as bad as you might think, but I was surely feeling it as I tried to scrub that damn Goldmine stamp off my hand in the shower this morning.
Fortunately, today was a really easy day at work, with plenty of breaks where I was able to lay back on the exam table & nap a lil and really take in how glad I am that I went to the reunion. I remember talking to more than one person there who apologized to me for not standing up for me or not being a good friend & I'm not 100% sure I expressed it clearly enough over the music & the booze, but All is Forgiven. We were all just kids, trying to survive. Things had to be like that in order for us to learn and grow & move forward.
I saw that boy that I was looking for, that me that just wanted to lay down and die over it all. I saw him in your faces & going to the reunion gave me exactly what I needed. A chance to put that anger & resentment to rest for once & for all & I sincerely thank you for that.
I got to the party right as it was starting at 8 at the Mystère Manor on 4800 Canal St. Oddly enough, the 1st person that I talked to for any length of time was actually not someone from high school, but this guy I met at Nicholls State University during my 1st aborted attempt at higher education, straight out of high skool. We caught up for a bit & then I headed over to the open bar & had the first of oh-so-many Vodka/Cranberries. I was overwhelmed by how many people came up to me & told me that they'd read my previous post & truly understood, that they had felt like outsiders too. It would take me entirely too long to list everyone who came to me & treated me with kindness. Of course, there were one or two people who were stand-offish & that is absolutely fine. It didn't feel fake, it didn't feel forced, everything was just so easy after 20 years. Some of us got fat, some got skinny, some look older, some look the same, some look better (We know who we are) but we all looked happy to be there. The open bar may have had something to do with it, of course.
When the clock struck 11, the Haunted Mausoleum threw us out & I rode out with the Sassy Sherry Green-Vinturella & her lovely husband to Masquerade at Harrah's Casino, where some of Party Crew '92 were dancing & drinking. After a bit, we headed to the Famous Door on Bourbon for a live band & more dancing & drinking. Then, it was off to the Goldmine Saloon for, you guessed it, more dancing & drinking!! Before I knew it, though, it was past 3AM (like way, way past) & Sherry & her hubby were kind enough to give me a ride home with the requisite stop for Gas Station Fried Chicken Strips & an empanada onna way. I ate the empanada, 1 chicken strip & a few of the fries & set my alarm for 8 so I could wake up today & head over to Tulane Med Skool & ooh lawd the hangover wasn't as bad as you might think, but I was surely feeling it as I tried to scrub that damn Goldmine stamp off my hand in the shower this morning.
Fortunately, today was a really easy day at work, with plenty of breaks where I was able to lay back on the exam table & nap a lil and really take in how glad I am that I went to the reunion. I remember talking to more than one person there who apologized to me for not standing up for me or not being a good friend & I'm not 100% sure I expressed it clearly enough over the music & the booze, but All is Forgiven. We were all just kids, trying to survive. Things had to be like that in order for us to learn and grow & move forward.
I saw that boy that I was looking for, that me that just wanted to lay down and die over it all. I saw him in your faces & going to the reunion gave me exactly what I needed. A chance to put that anger & resentment to rest for once & for all & I sincerely thank you for that.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Terror of the 20 year reunion....
...in which I try to figure out the root of this anxiety & overcome it.
Tonight is the night. My 20 year HS reunion will take place in about 7 hours and I find myself increasingly anxious (if not outright terrorized.) Most of you did not know me in high school, but it wasn't exactly what you would call a pleasant experience for me. I do not have sequential memories of this period in my life, it is more like I remember particular scenes, like being called a faggot every day or this kid spitting on my face on the bus or finding notes in my locker telling me that I was gonna die from AIDS & not being able to tell anyone about any of it because I thought they all knew & approved & nobody thought I deserved any better or else somebody would have said something.
Intellectually, I know there were bright spots, I know that I had a few friends. I only got beaten up for being gay once, and that didn't happen at school, although the person who set it up was a classmate of mine. The police flat out told me that they wouldn't prosecute the guys who did it to me because they were part of a drug sting that would put the dudes in jail for longer than a simple battery charge. "Hate Crimes" weren't recognized then & honestly if they had been, I'm really not sure that anything would have happened anyway.
Oh but I was so angry and so scared & so unable to admit that I was angry even to myself & so I masked it, I hid it behind sassy comments & then once I was out of high school I was still so very angry & couldn't remember why & I did my damnedest to forget it all, to snort it or smoke it or mainline it all away & somehow, some way I lived thru it, & despite my own best efforts, I survived.
Just typing these few paragraphs is giving me butterflies in my stomach & got my hands shaking like the very last crackhead in America & I'll probably go thru a pack of cigs before I finish this but finish this I must. It's important.
My clearest memory from high school is actually from 3 days after I graduated. My parents took my sisters & me to...Biloxi? Mobile? IDK, someplace on the Gulf Coast for some biker event (my dad drove a Harley at the time) & when we got back, someone had spraypainted the words SUCK DICK FAG in big white letters on the blacktop street in front of my house & FAG on our mailbox. My parents & my grandfather told me it was my fault. If I hadn't acted like such a sissy, no one would say those things about me, I would have gotten a date to the prom, I would have had friends to go on Senior Trip with, and I certainly wouldn't have had to clean off the graffitti with a scrub brush in the scorching South Louisiana heat a few days from my 18th birthday. I am not sure if you have ever tried to remove paint without any solvents, but I'm here to tell you, it's difficult, especially when you have to move out of the way of oncoming cars when all you want to do is lay down in front of them & just not have to fucking be hurt any more over the fact that you're not who other people tell you that you should be.
Oof. That was hard. Hard to live thru & hard to think about & hard to write about, but I know that if I don't get it all out I'm probably going to end up chain-smoking all day long & talk myself out of going to this party tonight.
I didn't go to my 10 year reunion. I was still really angry & to be honest, I didn't feel like I had anything to show for those 10 years besides track marks & a profoundly diminished sense of smell. I was scared & ashamed & felt incredibly inadequate at the idea of having to face people who gave me recurrent nightmares. I didn't give them a chance to reject me again. Instead, I rejected the idea of being in their company & cut myself off from a chance to understand and forgive and heal.
In the second decade since my 1st graduation, I've been the winner on a game show, gotten 2 BA degrees & an MA, become highly fluent in two foreign languages, travelled to Europe, won more scholarships than I can name offhand & so much more besides, but somehow that sense of inadequacy is still there, in the back of my mind & deep inside my heart, in a place that defies intellect and reason. But this time, I will not let the anxieties and fear hold me back. This time, I will use that nervous energy, channel it into some positive force that will permit me to overcome that Terrible Awful Anger and see that the other kids at school were just that-Kids.
They felt angry, they felt lost & had to take it out on someone & saw me as a fitting target because that's what they were taught. They didn't know better.
I know no one is going to do anything bad to me tonight. I know that we have all grown up & changed and (hopefully) become better people. I'm trying not to go into this with any expectations (more than 1 person has given me this advice) other than an open bar & some snacks for 3 hours.
My friend Sandi asked me the other day who I was hoping to see at this reunion. I really didn't have an immediate answer. A while later, I came up with a few names, but now that I've had a few days to kind of live with the question, the real answer is---Me. I'm hoping to see that Me that I used to be and be able to forgive him for being different, for daring not to conform, and love him because without him, I'd never be the Me that I am today.
Tonight is the night. My 20 year HS reunion will take place in about 7 hours and I find myself increasingly anxious (if not outright terrorized.) Most of you did not know me in high school, but it wasn't exactly what you would call a pleasant experience for me. I do not have sequential memories of this period in my life, it is more like I remember particular scenes, like being called a faggot every day or this kid spitting on my face on the bus or finding notes in my locker telling me that I was gonna die from AIDS & not being able to tell anyone about any of it because I thought they all knew & approved & nobody thought I deserved any better or else somebody would have said something.
Intellectually, I know there were bright spots, I know that I had a few friends. I only got beaten up for being gay once, and that didn't happen at school, although the person who set it up was a classmate of mine. The police flat out told me that they wouldn't prosecute the guys who did it to me because they were part of a drug sting that would put the dudes in jail for longer than a simple battery charge. "Hate Crimes" weren't recognized then & honestly if they had been, I'm really not sure that anything would have happened anyway.
Oh but I was so angry and so scared & so unable to admit that I was angry even to myself & so I masked it, I hid it behind sassy comments & then once I was out of high school I was still so very angry & couldn't remember why & I did my damnedest to forget it all, to snort it or smoke it or mainline it all away & somehow, some way I lived thru it, & despite my own best efforts, I survived.
Just typing these few paragraphs is giving me butterflies in my stomach & got my hands shaking like the very last crackhead in America & I'll probably go thru a pack of cigs before I finish this but finish this I must. It's important.
My clearest memory from high school is actually from 3 days after I graduated. My parents took my sisters & me to...Biloxi? Mobile? IDK, someplace on the Gulf Coast for some biker event (my dad drove a Harley at the time) & when we got back, someone had spraypainted the words SUCK DICK FAG in big white letters on the blacktop street in front of my house & FAG on our mailbox. My parents & my grandfather told me it was my fault. If I hadn't acted like such a sissy, no one would say those things about me, I would have gotten a date to the prom, I would have had friends to go on Senior Trip with, and I certainly wouldn't have had to clean off the graffitti with a scrub brush in the scorching South Louisiana heat a few days from my 18th birthday. I am not sure if you have ever tried to remove paint without any solvents, but I'm here to tell you, it's difficult, especially when you have to move out of the way of oncoming cars when all you want to do is lay down in front of them & just not have to fucking be hurt any more over the fact that you're not who other people tell you that you should be.
Oof. That was hard. Hard to live thru & hard to think about & hard to write about, but I know that if I don't get it all out I'm probably going to end up chain-smoking all day long & talk myself out of going to this party tonight.
I didn't go to my 10 year reunion. I was still really angry & to be honest, I didn't feel like I had anything to show for those 10 years besides track marks & a profoundly diminished sense of smell. I was scared & ashamed & felt incredibly inadequate at the idea of having to face people who gave me recurrent nightmares. I didn't give them a chance to reject me again. Instead, I rejected the idea of being in their company & cut myself off from a chance to understand and forgive and heal.
In the second decade since my 1st graduation, I've been the winner on a game show, gotten 2 BA degrees & an MA, become highly fluent in two foreign languages, travelled to Europe, won more scholarships than I can name offhand & so much more besides, but somehow that sense of inadequacy is still there, in the back of my mind & deep inside my heart, in a place that defies intellect and reason. But this time, I will not let the anxieties and fear hold me back. This time, I will use that nervous energy, channel it into some positive force that will permit me to overcome that Terrible Awful Anger and see that the other kids at school were just that-Kids.
They felt angry, they felt lost & had to take it out on someone & saw me as a fitting target because that's what they were taught. They didn't know better.
I know no one is going to do anything bad to me tonight. I know that we have all grown up & changed and (hopefully) become better people. I'm trying not to go into this with any expectations (more than 1 person has given me this advice) other than an open bar & some snacks for 3 hours.
My friend Sandi asked me the other day who I was hoping to see at this reunion. I really didn't have an immediate answer. A while later, I came up with a few names, but now that I've had a few days to kind of live with the question, the real answer is---Me. I'm hoping to see that Me that I used to be and be able to forgive him for being different, for daring not to conform, and love him because without him, I'd never be the Me that I am today.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Midsummer Update...
Gosh it seems like so much (and yet so little) has happened since the last blog. The 8-week Summer Semester at Colledge ends next week & I know it's a cliché but damn where did the time go?
I have started this blog a bunch of times & not really known where to start, but I will try to maintain a quasi-linear narrative. My so-called wife & I went to dinner a few weeks ago & as dinner drew to a close, I got an email from Dillard University (right down the street from where I live) offering me an adjunct position, teaching 3 sections of 1st semester French in the Fall. I talked to the Dept head, sent her all my info, CV, got letters of recommendation, paid to have official transcripts sent, and everything seemed fine.
I was house-sitting for a friend Uptown & got up in the night for a pee & checked the time on my cell phone & saw that it was like 3AM & there was a new email from Miss Lady at Dillard. Well, most of you will already know that the email's tone was very apologetic, but the crux of it was that despite my excellent qualifications, due to some internal politics, she wouldn't be able to offer me those classes after all.
Ugh. Just typing about it, I get that kicked in the balls feeling I had that night, sitting on my friend's bed while his dogs just looked bewildered at me as I rocked back & forth & just felt that ugly mix of disappointment & anger & despair wash all over me. Needless to say, there wasn't much sleep to be had for the rest of the night. I posted something about it as my FB status & I keep trying to remember that things happen for reasons & that there must be something better headed my way but damn it's not easy with Sallie Mae blowing up my phone & my food stamps getting reduced because my intermittent income was slightly higher in the month leading up to my renewal date.
& Speaking of Sallie Mae, I made a payment late & the system credited the payment to the wrong loan, although the web-site told me it went to the right one. Of course the drama that I just encapsulated in one sentence was a 2 week or so tribulation, with machines calling my phone daily & then keeping me on hold for hours on end, only to hang up on me before a live person could answer (this happened more than once, not just that day I was updating about it on FB), to say nothing of the barrage of "DO NOT REPLY" emails I was getting.
Add this stuff to my continuous Bestie Break Up PTSD... Yes seriously. I get better about it sometimes but it has really affected me. Like I don't reach out to people like I used to. When ppl don't return my texts/calls/emails I take it for granted that they are just randomly dropping me like He did. It's not pretty. It's not reasonable. It's just sad and angry and not knowing what to do with these feelings but eat them or try to numb them out of my brain electronically with Facebook Games or smoke them away with Marlboros or indulge in some other compulsive behavior that will keep it all at bay. So far it's been corn chips instead of crystal meth but damn.
Most days my self-care is minimal at best, brush teeth, shower & shave if I have to go teach (thank God I have to do this 4 days a week) but something as normal as making breakfast exhausts me just thinking about it & so I skip breakfast & usually don't eat until at least noon, often later, and quite a lot (and usually some kind of prepared food, making groceries is really too much of a task & besides I'm afraid I'll have some freaky emotional reaction again) but that will be the only meal of the day.
Damn this blog is kind of a bummer. Sorry about that. But in better news, I'll be heading to Hahnville after this Summer Session ends for a few weeks (I don't go back to work at the Med Skool until Aug 7th, and don't have anything else so far scheduled til then besides a few shifts at the Sweet Shop) and I'm def looking forward to seeing my awesome grandma & my BFF Sandi. The plan is for Sandi & I to get a few projects done, maybe some gardening for our mutual grandmas, maybe some lawn stuff, IDK what all, but just a few things to help me regain a sense of accomplishment, of work pleasure. Strange to think of all the awards & scholarships & even the game show I won but lately the biggest accomplishment is a high score on Marvel: Avengers Alliance.
Oof. Well so much for a linear narrative & joy. Please return to your normal Internet experience. Check out my other blog for a laugh about hoes onna bus or something.
Thanks for reading.
I have started this blog a bunch of times & not really known where to start, but I will try to maintain a quasi-linear narrative. My so-called wife & I went to dinner a few weeks ago & as dinner drew to a close, I got an email from Dillard University (right down the street from where I live) offering me an adjunct position, teaching 3 sections of 1st semester French in the Fall. I talked to the Dept head, sent her all my info, CV, got letters of recommendation, paid to have official transcripts sent, and everything seemed fine.
I was house-sitting for a friend Uptown & got up in the night for a pee & checked the time on my cell phone & saw that it was like 3AM & there was a new email from Miss Lady at Dillard. Well, most of you will already know that the email's tone was very apologetic, but the crux of it was that despite my excellent qualifications, due to some internal politics, she wouldn't be able to offer me those classes after all.
Ugh. Just typing about it, I get that kicked in the balls feeling I had that night, sitting on my friend's bed while his dogs just looked bewildered at me as I rocked back & forth & just felt that ugly mix of disappointment & anger & despair wash all over me. Needless to say, there wasn't much sleep to be had for the rest of the night. I posted something about it as my FB status & I keep trying to remember that things happen for reasons & that there must be something better headed my way but damn it's not easy with Sallie Mae blowing up my phone & my food stamps getting reduced because my intermittent income was slightly higher in the month leading up to my renewal date.
& Speaking of Sallie Mae, I made a payment late & the system credited the payment to the wrong loan, although the web-site told me it went to the right one. Of course the drama that I just encapsulated in one sentence was a 2 week or so tribulation, with machines calling my phone daily & then keeping me on hold for hours on end, only to hang up on me before a live person could answer (this happened more than once, not just that day I was updating about it on FB), to say nothing of the barrage of "DO NOT REPLY" emails I was getting.
Add this stuff to my continuous Bestie Break Up PTSD... Yes seriously. I get better about it sometimes but it has really affected me. Like I don't reach out to people like I used to. When ppl don't return my texts/calls/emails I take it for granted that they are just randomly dropping me like He did. It's not pretty. It's not reasonable. It's just sad and angry and not knowing what to do with these feelings but eat them or try to numb them out of my brain electronically with Facebook Games or smoke them away with Marlboros or indulge in some other compulsive behavior that will keep it all at bay. So far it's been corn chips instead of crystal meth but damn.
Most days my self-care is minimal at best, brush teeth, shower & shave if I have to go teach (thank God I have to do this 4 days a week) but something as normal as making breakfast exhausts me just thinking about it & so I skip breakfast & usually don't eat until at least noon, often later, and quite a lot (and usually some kind of prepared food, making groceries is really too much of a task & besides I'm afraid I'll have some freaky emotional reaction again) but that will be the only meal of the day.
Damn this blog is kind of a bummer. Sorry about that. But in better news, I'll be heading to Hahnville after this Summer Session ends for a few weeks (I don't go back to work at the Med Skool until Aug 7th, and don't have anything else so far scheduled til then besides a few shifts at the Sweet Shop) and I'm def looking forward to seeing my awesome grandma & my BFF Sandi. The plan is for Sandi & I to get a few projects done, maybe some gardening for our mutual grandmas, maybe some lawn stuff, IDK what all, but just a few things to help me regain a sense of accomplishment, of work pleasure. Strange to think of all the awards & scholarships & even the game show I won but lately the biggest accomplishment is a high score on Marvel: Avengers Alliance.
Oof. Well so much for a linear narrative & joy. Please return to your normal Internet experience. Check out my other blog for a laugh about hoes onna bus or something.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Survived another rockin' birthday!!
So, as most of you will know from my compulsive FB updates, this past weekend was one for the books (well, the blog in this case)
I worked at the med skool on Friday & was watching the clock like crazy, bc I knew my dear friend, Roy from WI, would be waiting in the lobby for me, fresh off the plane. We got on the ever-glamorous Franklin bus & got to my place right in time for some delicious Ketel One & cranberry cocktails to settle our nerves.
I made tacos for supper & my friend Nanette popped up with a delicious chocolate birthday cake (cake cake cake cake cake cake cake). We visited for a bit & she rolled off & Roy & I kept drinking & talking & we watched some classic episodes of the Bionic Woman, starrring Lindsay Wagner!
Needless to say, our LRW weekend continued on with skillets for breakfast on Saturday, followed by Dalida DVDs & Bloody Marys all afternoon. Good stuff.
Keeping with my post 35 bday tradition, dinner was at the ever-delightful El Gato Negro. Sandi, Stacey, Eddie & his hubby, Denny & the always beautiful Kris Ford joined Roy & I for an unforgettable dinner. Yum yum yum. Tableside guacamole & queso fundido were our second course (clearly the 1st was Carrot Juice Margaritas, although I think the others may have had other kinds of Maggies) and I had the chorizo & pork fajitas for my entree (and breakfast Monday), while others had Chicken con molé, buffalo tacos (yes buffalo meat, bitch), & some other stuff. As you can prolly guess, I was around CJM (Carrot Juice Margarita) #4 or so by this point.
I was too stuffed for dessert, but our server brought us out a delicious set of shots as lil bday present, which I thought was lovely. Then Stacey & Sandi brought Roy & me to my apt & joined us for some of Nanette's delicious cake, and afterwards Roy & I settled in for more drinks & classic Dr Who!
In honor of Peter Purves being one of the guests at the Gallifrey One (is it really all the way in February???), we watched The Ark, ep 4 of The Celestial Toymaker & The Gunfighters. Ole girl & I fell asleep on our respective couches after a while & so I got up & went to bed after I got him all situated onna couch. We also came up with a lot of alternate lyrics to the Ballad of the Last Chance Saloon, but I think that's better left to the imagination....
For Sunday Funday, we woke up around noon (ooh the decadence of it), got ourselves together & finished up the Bloody Mary Mix & headed off to the Country Club for some brunch & bronzing. We started with the bottomless Mimosas & then shared a skewered chicken app. For my entree I had chicken on a biscuit (WOW) with fries & a side of mac & cheese, while Roy had something that I forgot (PS did I mention we'd been drinking since Friday, so I may be a lil hazy on some details here & there) & then we headed to the pool.
It was PACKED out there. There was not one free deck chair. Naturally, I didn't care as I was really just looking for a place to put down my bag so I could get in the pool! I spent the rest of the day, sunning myself in the water, chatting to all & sundry. Nanette joined us (as did her fiance, a lil later on) for some hijinx & then was kind enough to bring us home around 9 that night. Some hazy highlights I remember include some naked so-called straight man extolling the virtues of prostate orgasms, an over-enthusiastic, ahem, shall we say, suitor of mine, & well, a lot of nudity in general, and for once, most of the nude people were exceptionally attractive. Or maybe that was bc of the sun in my eyes & the booze in my belly. But I digress...
Roy & I got back here after a quick stop at Walgreens for cigs & a frozen pizza & then we chowed down & started watching Invasion of the Dinosaurs, in honor of our girl, the late, lamented, Lis Sladen. We didn't make it all the way thru it (between the sun & the booze I'm shocked we made it thru eps 1-4), so clearly on Monday we finished watching it, after a nice long sleep in.
We watched more Bionic Bimbo & talked crazy for a bit until it was time for Roy to get in a taxi & then fly on back home. I spent the rest of the day catching up on my sleep, basking in the feeling of well-being & love that I got not only from the people who were able to be present on my birthday, but also from all the support & kind wishes from everybody in FB-land.
Thanks again for everything.
I worked at the med skool on Friday & was watching the clock like crazy, bc I knew my dear friend, Roy from WI, would be waiting in the lobby for me, fresh off the plane. We got on the ever-glamorous Franklin bus & got to my place right in time for some delicious Ketel One & cranberry cocktails to settle our nerves.
I made tacos for supper & my friend Nanette popped up with a delicious chocolate birthday cake (cake cake cake cake cake cake cake). We visited for a bit & she rolled off & Roy & I kept drinking & talking & we watched some classic episodes of the Bionic Woman, starrring Lindsay Wagner!
Needless to say, our LRW weekend continued on with skillets for breakfast on Saturday, followed by Dalida DVDs & Bloody Marys all afternoon. Good stuff.
Keeping with my post 35 bday tradition, dinner was at the ever-delightful El Gato Negro. Sandi, Stacey, Eddie & his hubby, Denny & the always beautiful Kris Ford joined Roy & I for an unforgettable dinner. Yum yum yum. Tableside guacamole & queso fundido were our second course (clearly the 1st was Carrot Juice Margaritas, although I think the others may have had other kinds of Maggies) and I had the chorizo & pork fajitas for my entree (and breakfast Monday), while others had Chicken con molé, buffalo tacos (yes buffalo meat, bitch), & some other stuff. As you can prolly guess, I was around CJM (Carrot Juice Margarita) #4 or so by this point.
I was too stuffed for dessert, but our server brought us out a delicious set of shots as lil bday present, which I thought was lovely. Then Stacey & Sandi brought Roy & me to my apt & joined us for some of Nanette's delicious cake, and afterwards Roy & I settled in for more drinks & classic Dr Who!
In honor of Peter Purves being one of the guests at the Gallifrey One (is it really all the way in February???), we watched The Ark, ep 4 of The Celestial Toymaker & The Gunfighters. Ole girl & I fell asleep on our respective couches after a while & so I got up & went to bed after I got him all situated onna couch. We also came up with a lot of alternate lyrics to the Ballad of the Last Chance Saloon, but I think that's better left to the imagination....
For Sunday Funday, we woke up around noon (ooh the decadence of it), got ourselves together & finished up the Bloody Mary Mix & headed off to the Country Club for some brunch & bronzing. We started with the bottomless Mimosas & then shared a skewered chicken app. For my entree I had chicken on a biscuit (WOW) with fries & a side of mac & cheese, while Roy had something that I forgot (PS did I mention we'd been drinking since Friday, so I may be a lil hazy on some details here & there) & then we headed to the pool.
It was PACKED out there. There was not one free deck chair. Naturally, I didn't care as I was really just looking for a place to put down my bag so I could get in the pool! I spent the rest of the day, sunning myself in the water, chatting to all & sundry. Nanette joined us (as did her fiance, a lil later on) for some hijinx & then was kind enough to bring us home around 9 that night. Some hazy highlights I remember include some naked so-called straight man extolling the virtues of prostate orgasms, an over-enthusiastic, ahem, shall we say, suitor of mine, & well, a lot of nudity in general, and for once, most of the nude people were exceptionally attractive. Or maybe that was bc of the sun in my eyes & the booze in my belly. But I digress...
Roy & I got back here after a quick stop at Walgreens for cigs & a frozen pizza & then we chowed down & started watching Invasion of the Dinosaurs, in honor of our girl, the late, lamented, Lis Sladen. We didn't make it all the way thru it (between the sun & the booze I'm shocked we made it thru eps 1-4), so clearly on Monday we finished watching it, after a nice long sleep in.
We watched more Bionic Bimbo & talked crazy for a bit until it was time for Roy to get in a taxi & then fly on back home. I spent the rest of the day catching up on my sleep, basking in the feeling of well-being & love that I got not only from the people who were able to be present on my birthday, but also from all the support & kind wishes from everybody in FB-land.
Thanks again for everything.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Good News? Bad News?
Well, news, at any rate.
In case it hasn't been obvious by omission, I got a letter a few weeks from Tulane's PhD in French program. A rejection letter. It gave me that kicked in the chest in the grocery store feeling at first, snd I'd be lying if I said I didn't shed a few tears over it, but in the final analysis, it is for the best. I don't really have a burning desire for a PhD, but I definitely want to stay in NOLA and work in Foreign Languages (and, yes, go back into student deferment on the student loans) and I thought that getting a PhD in French from Tulane would be a good way to accomplish that. It felt like really bad news at the time. Now, I'm not so sure.
In other news, I got a call last week from the Dept Chair of ESL/Foreign Languages at Tarado Community Colledge here in town (I have been in touch w this lady a few times over the course of the Spring), asking me to teach 1 class Spanish 101 for their Summer Session (starting TOMORROW!!!!!!!!). I went up there today to fill out some paperwork, so she could get the proverbial wheels rolling. Naturally I don't have a skool e-mail address but fortunately, my dear friend Valeria was initially scheduled to teach the class so she had a syllabus ready & was gracious enough to hook me up with photocopies of the 1st chapter or so of the book until I receive my copy. I'm not sure if this is good news or not either. It doesn't feel like bad news though. There are only about 10 ppl in the class, and it's held from 9:30-10:45AM M-TH. The only down side is that it is on the Westbank Campus. This promises to be an interesting bus ride 4 times a week, at least....
In GREAT news, my Sistah, Roy, (whom I met at Gallifrey One a cpl years ago) will be coming to NOLA this Friday to for my Birthday week-end!! We gonna have plenty visiting, dining & perhaps a lil drinking too---Especially when we take over the patio at El Gato Negro on Saturday Night when I turn the big 3-?....you already know my mouth is watering thinking about those Carrot Juice Margaritas!!
Ooh. I'm trembling with anticipation about all of it...Delgado tomorrow, the big weekend, and just seeing what's next on my horizons!
Praise Bless & Thanks for Reading!
In case it hasn't been obvious by omission, I got a letter a few weeks from Tulane's PhD in French program. A rejection letter. It gave me that kicked in the chest in the grocery store feeling at first, snd I'd be lying if I said I didn't shed a few tears over it, but in the final analysis, it is for the best. I don't really have a burning desire for a PhD, but I definitely want to stay in NOLA and work in Foreign Languages (and, yes, go back into student deferment on the student loans) and I thought that getting a PhD in French from Tulane would be a good way to accomplish that. It felt like really bad news at the time. Now, I'm not so sure.
In other news, I got a call last week from the Dept Chair of ESL/Foreign Languages at Tarado Community Colledge here in town (I have been in touch w this lady a few times over the course of the Spring), asking me to teach 1 class Spanish 101 for their Summer Session (starting TOMORROW!!!!!!!!). I went up there today to fill out some paperwork, so she could get the proverbial wheels rolling. Naturally I don't have a skool e-mail address but fortunately, my dear friend Valeria was initially scheduled to teach the class so she had a syllabus ready & was gracious enough to hook me up with photocopies of the 1st chapter or so of the book until I receive my copy. I'm not sure if this is good news or not either. It doesn't feel like bad news though. There are only about 10 ppl in the class, and it's held from 9:30-10:45AM M-TH. The only down side is that it is on the Westbank Campus. This promises to be an interesting bus ride 4 times a week, at least....
In GREAT news, my Sistah, Roy, (whom I met at Gallifrey One a cpl years ago) will be coming to NOLA this Friday to for my Birthday week-end!! We gonna have plenty visiting, dining & perhaps a lil drinking too---Especially when we take over the patio at El Gato Negro on Saturday Night when I turn the big 3-?....you already know my mouth is watering thinking about those Carrot Juice Margaritas!!
Ooh. I'm trembling with anticipation about all of it...Delgado tomorrow, the big weekend, and just seeing what's next on my horizons!
Praise Bless & Thanks for Reading!
Monday, April 30, 2012
Grief at the Grocery
I haven't posted about this except for an FB status update, but at the beginning of the year, I went thru a Bestie Break-up. No warning, no fight, but out of nowhere someone I thought of as family just stopped returning my text messages around Christmas.
I checked on his FB & he'd deleted me as a friend.
Around January 2, I txted him: "Look. Don't make me get all Mo Gumbo on you & stalk you. If there is something I've done to piss you off I'd appreciate the chance to talk it over & work things out. I miss you."
An hour or so later I got some weird terse thing like: "If you love me let me go. I have not been true to my inner voice for a long time now. Please don't contact me again, Sam. I pray you will find peace."
It felt like a kick in the chest then & it still does.
I got a new phone the next day & I'd decided to honor his no-contact request & so I didn't transfer his number. I figured this way I wouldn't be tempted to blow up his phone like some crazy person.
In the morning I got a text from an unknown number that said: "Damn, I think I'm leaving."
I wasn't quite awake yet & just texted back "Who is this?" when I didn't initially recognize the number.
It didn't occur to me until I was making groceries this afternoon at Rouse's that it was his number. I was reaching into one of the coolers for something & I just flashed back to being there with him, & I looked over my shoulder & I could just sort of see him out of the corner of my eye & of course he wasn't there but it just hit me how sad it was that he wasn't there & how sad I've been since I got that text.
If I hadn't gotten there on the bus, I'd have left right then.
I got that kicked in the chest feeling as I walked thru the aisles, every time remembering some sassy interchange between us and the check-out aisle was the worst, thinking about all the times we cut up with the girls behind the register, like the time he was dancing to the music in his head & Miss Irish (yes that is this Ho's real name) was looking at him crazy & said she was gonna call 911 if I hadn't explained his behavior to her.
I never thought funny moments could make me so sad.
I cycle between sad & angry & depressed about it all the time but wow it really just grabbed hold of me at that Rouse's & wouldn't let me go. The anger part of it was severely exacerbated by the fact that I called United Cab for a ride home at 5PM. Then again at 5:20. & 5:40. & 6:10. & 6:25. To the point that one of the ppl answering the phone recognized my voice & said, "Sam, you still haven't gotten a cab yet?"
They were all suitably apologetic but I ended up calling Yellow Cab & getting home with one of them.
But I had to sit in front of the Rouse's for almost 2 hours before that Yellow Cab got there, just doing my best not to burst out crying over how fucking sad things are without the laughs & fun I used to have with this guy.
At first I really couldn't think what brought this all on & why it couldn't wait until I was not in fucking public to be all emotional like that, but now that I've written it all out, it makes sense, insofar as that is possible.
Did I mention that just as the 1st big crest of the emotional wave smashed me to pieces, I came across a table of candy bars, 2 for $1?? Needless to say LRW grabbed a Take 5, a Reese's Nutrageous, a Butterfinger Crisp & a Reese's Crisp. Not to mention some Lil Debbie Snack Cakes.
Geez, I sound like someone on that show "Addicted to Food."
Anyway so I came home, had a cry, ate my emotions & watched RuPaul's Drag Race. RuPaul makes a bad Monday a lot better.
Well at least until I think about how much he loved that show & how we'd watch together on Monday nights this time last year.
At least I'm not imagining I see him out of the corner of my eye, sitting in his usual spot on the couch...
The worst part about this whole thing is that I can't do anything with these feelings. He asked me not to contact him. I can't force him to be my friend again.
I wish I had some nice surprise twist ending to this blog, like in the Mary Tyler Moore TV movie that starts with Mary & Rhoda making up after not talking for a long time, & Mary says, "What were we thinking?"
& Rhoda says: "I don't know, but I don't ever wanna think it again."
But what I actually have is hope that time will heal this wound & gratitude for all the amazing people I do have in my life. It's just that I'd like this particular one back, y'know?
I checked on his FB & he'd deleted me as a friend.
Around January 2, I txted him: "Look. Don't make me get all Mo Gumbo on you & stalk you. If there is something I've done to piss you off I'd appreciate the chance to talk it over & work things out. I miss you."
An hour or so later I got some weird terse thing like: "If you love me let me go. I have not been true to my inner voice for a long time now. Please don't contact me again, Sam. I pray you will find peace."
It felt like a kick in the chest then & it still does.
I got a new phone the next day & I'd decided to honor his no-contact request & so I didn't transfer his number. I figured this way I wouldn't be tempted to blow up his phone like some crazy person.
In the morning I got a text from an unknown number that said: "Damn, I think I'm leaving."
I wasn't quite awake yet & just texted back "Who is this?" when I didn't initially recognize the number.
It didn't occur to me until I was making groceries this afternoon at Rouse's that it was his number. I was reaching into one of the coolers for something & I just flashed back to being there with him, & I looked over my shoulder & I could just sort of see him out of the corner of my eye & of course he wasn't there but it just hit me how sad it was that he wasn't there & how sad I've been since I got that text.
If I hadn't gotten there on the bus, I'd have left right then.
I got that kicked in the chest feeling as I walked thru the aisles, every time remembering some sassy interchange between us and the check-out aisle was the worst, thinking about all the times we cut up with the girls behind the register, like the time he was dancing to the music in his head & Miss Irish (yes that is this Ho's real name) was looking at him crazy & said she was gonna call 911 if I hadn't explained his behavior to her.
I never thought funny moments could make me so sad.
I cycle between sad & angry & depressed about it all the time but wow it really just grabbed hold of me at that Rouse's & wouldn't let me go. The anger part of it was severely exacerbated by the fact that I called United Cab for a ride home at 5PM. Then again at 5:20. & 5:40. & 6:10. & 6:25. To the point that one of the ppl answering the phone recognized my voice & said, "Sam, you still haven't gotten a cab yet?"
They were all suitably apologetic but I ended up calling Yellow Cab & getting home with one of them.
But I had to sit in front of the Rouse's for almost 2 hours before that Yellow Cab got there, just doing my best not to burst out crying over how fucking sad things are without the laughs & fun I used to have with this guy.
At first I really couldn't think what brought this all on & why it couldn't wait until I was not in fucking public to be all emotional like that, but now that I've written it all out, it makes sense, insofar as that is possible.
Did I mention that just as the 1st big crest of the emotional wave smashed me to pieces, I came across a table of candy bars, 2 for $1?? Needless to say LRW grabbed a Take 5, a Reese's Nutrageous, a Butterfinger Crisp & a Reese's Crisp. Not to mention some Lil Debbie Snack Cakes.
Geez, I sound like someone on that show "Addicted to Food."
Anyway so I came home, had a cry, ate my emotions & watched RuPaul's Drag Race. RuPaul makes a bad Monday a lot better.
Well at least until I think about how much he loved that show & how we'd watch together on Monday nights this time last year.
At least I'm not imagining I see him out of the corner of my eye, sitting in his usual spot on the couch...
The worst part about this whole thing is that I can't do anything with these feelings. He asked me not to contact him. I can't force him to be my friend again.
I wish I had some nice surprise twist ending to this blog, like in the Mary Tyler Moore TV movie that starts with Mary & Rhoda making up after not talking for a long time, & Mary says, "What were we thinking?"
& Rhoda says: "I don't know, but I don't ever wanna think it again."
But what I actually have is hope that time will heal this wound & gratitude for all the amazing people I do have in my life. It's just that I'd like this particular one back, y'know?
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Addicted to Addictions, Compelled by Compulsions...
I've noticed a trend in entertainment lately, TV shows about ppl struggling with compulsive behaviors. You know what I'm talking about:
Intervention
Addicted
My Strange Addiction
Celebrity Rehab
Hoarders
Hoarding: Buried Alive
Addicted to Food
My Crazy Obsession
Bad Sex
Strange Sex
RuPaul's Drag Race
Oh, sorry, that last one is just one of MY addictions.
Anyway, the list goes on & on.
What does it say about us as a culture, this phenomenon of watching people drink gasoline or smoke crystal meth or inject animal tranquilizers? I can't help but wonder how many ppl see this kinda stuff & actually try it out, thinking "Oh well I'm not as dumb as that ho on (insert show name here), I will be just fine. Besides, it looked like she was feeling good when she (gambled/shopped/screwed) her way thru the day, and if it gets out of hand I can just call Dr Drew or Dr Phil or Oprah & get myself out of it."
Nobody says "I wanna be a junky when I grow up," or maybe they do, just to break the rules.
As most of you will know already, I have had my struggles with addiction, in fact all these shows are starting to make me think that we all are, to some degree or another. (I swear this makes more sense than my belief that everyone in NYC is a sex offender because of Law & Order: SVU).
It seems like we all rely on something to get us thru: coffee, cocktails, pills (vitamin or otherwise)...so does this mean the key is in managing one's vices? Nurturing the productive ones & not indulging too much (or maybe at all) in the destructive ones?
I'm not really sure, let me get back to my Dr Who & knitting & I'll let you know....
I've noticed a trend in entertainment lately, TV shows about ppl struggling with compulsive behaviors. You know what I'm talking about:
Intervention
Addicted
My Strange Addiction
Celebrity Rehab
Hoarders
Hoarding: Buried Alive
Addicted to Food
My Crazy Obsession
Bad Sex
Strange Sex
RuPaul's Drag Race
Oh, sorry, that last one is just one of MY addictions.
Anyway, the list goes on & on.
What does it say about us as a culture, this phenomenon of watching people drink gasoline or smoke crystal meth or inject animal tranquilizers? I can't help but wonder how many ppl see this kinda stuff & actually try it out, thinking "Oh well I'm not as dumb as that ho on (insert show name here), I will be just fine. Besides, it looked like she was feeling good when she (gambled/shopped/screwed) her way thru the day, and if it gets out of hand I can just call Dr Drew or Dr Phil or Oprah & get myself out of it."
Nobody says "I wanna be a junky when I grow up," or maybe they do, just to break the rules.
As most of you will know already, I have had my struggles with addiction, in fact all these shows are starting to make me think that we all are, to some degree or another. (I swear this makes more sense than my belief that everyone in NYC is a sex offender because of Law & Order: SVU).
It seems like we all rely on something to get us thru: coffee, cocktails, pills (vitamin or otherwise)...so does this mean the key is in managing one's vices? Nurturing the productive ones & not indulging too much (or maybe at all) in the destructive ones?
I'm not really sure, let me get back to my Dr Who & knitting & I'll let you know....
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Gallifrey One: Network 23 ----BEST WEEKEND OF THE YEAR.
So as you will have gathered from my social media silence followed by a flurry of FB pics, I spent Mardi Gras weekend at the LAX Marriott with over 3100 other fans of my absolute favorite TV show since age 5, Doctor Who. God, it feels good to say that. It is like coming out of the closet all over again. This was my 4th convention, albeit my 2nd consecutive one & boy was it great! I (somehow) managed to focus my mind enough to work during the day Thursday & got on my 7:30PM flight to LAX, arriving at 9:55 local time. 3 Bloody Marys on the plane later, we arrive and I grab my bag from baggage claim & grab the 1st shuttle heading vaguely in the direction of the Marriott. I got out of the Renaissance Shuttle and walked 2 blocks to the Marriott & BOOM. There were 4 or 5 of my Gally Pals outside smoking (all the best people!) including but not limited to Simon, Justin, Josh (my amazing roommate), Lee, my sistah Roy!! It really felt like coming home, catching up with everyone before I even put my luggage down. Of course, it didn't end there, in fact the whole weekend was like that.
Upon entering the Lobby, I joined the most fun yet unofficial part of it all, LobbyCon. To the unitiated, this might just seem like a bunch of dorks standing around a hotel lobby, drinking and talking crazy but...oh never mind, that's what it is, OK? But damn if it doesn't make the price of admission seem paltry indeed!
Along the course of the weekend, I made it to some panels (Doctor Who in the 60s was the BEST), missed others, got some autographs, gave Louise Jameson (Leela from the classic series) a scarf I knitted, laughed myself silly during Mysterious Theatre 337, marvelled at Louise's great work in "Pulling Faces," her one-woman show about her decision not to have plastic surgery...and I have to admit, I did more drinking in 5 days/4 nights than I have since...well, last Gallifrey. I hit it the hardest Thursday night (or maybe it is better to say it hit me hardest Friday morning), and I sort of blacked out. Not in a scary way though, it's not like I woke up Friday in a strange room, leaking, with a bunch of strangers standing around me...how different this blog would be!
My only true regret is not getting my picture taken with the TARDIS console prop from the TV Movie. However, as you can see from my FB pics, I never stopped smiling!! Daleks in the hallways, little kids dressed as characters from before I was even born, all manner of gender/race-bending cosplay...it is a lot like Mardi Gras, minus morons, or maybe more like a rave plus 20 IQ points per person across the board!
I unveiled my version of Tom Baker's 1st scarf on Saturday & was pleasantly surprised that everyone seemed to LOVE it. My whole idea was not simply to duplicate the original, but rather to make it my own thru creative use of textures and colors. Topics of conversations ranged from Markie Post's mullet (yes I know it has nothing to do with Doctor Who) to Formicida the Ant Lady from Wonder Woman (our hotel room got upgraded bc our original room had ANTS MUTHAFUCKA ANTS) to how fanwanky "The Doctor's Wife" is (yea, well at least we got to collectively cum hard once, instead of edging over months for not as much release as we deserve) and much more besides. A big personal highlight for me was when Eric Roberts yelled a compliment across the room about my scarf, but the best part was the camraderie, running into an old friend, or a new one, & being delighted to discover what ELSE you have in common besides the incredible institution that is Doctor Who.
Next year will be the show's 50th anniversary and as you can probably guess, I'm already pre-registered!! Clearly, it's not too early to start ordering hats/scarves to help me fund the next trip!!
Thanks so much to all the con staff & attendees for making this the best weekend of the whole damn year! Can't wait til next time!!
Upon entering the Lobby, I joined the most fun yet unofficial part of it all, LobbyCon. To the unitiated, this might just seem like a bunch of dorks standing around a hotel lobby, drinking and talking crazy but...oh never mind, that's what it is, OK? But damn if it doesn't make the price of admission seem paltry indeed!
Along the course of the weekend, I made it to some panels (Doctor Who in the 60s was the BEST), missed others, got some autographs, gave Louise Jameson (Leela from the classic series) a scarf I knitted, laughed myself silly during Mysterious Theatre 337, marvelled at Louise's great work in "Pulling Faces," her one-woman show about her decision not to have plastic surgery...and I have to admit, I did more drinking in 5 days/4 nights than I have since...well, last Gallifrey. I hit it the hardest Thursday night (or maybe it is better to say it hit me hardest Friday morning), and I sort of blacked out. Not in a scary way though, it's not like I woke up Friday in a strange room, leaking, with a bunch of strangers standing around me...how different this blog would be!
My only true regret is not getting my picture taken with the TARDIS console prop from the TV Movie. However, as you can see from my FB pics, I never stopped smiling!! Daleks in the hallways, little kids dressed as characters from before I was even born, all manner of gender/race-bending cosplay...it is a lot like Mardi Gras, minus morons, or maybe more like a rave plus 20 IQ points per person across the board!
I unveiled my version of Tom Baker's 1st scarf on Saturday & was pleasantly surprised that everyone seemed to LOVE it. My whole idea was not simply to duplicate the original, but rather to make it my own thru creative use of textures and colors. Topics of conversations ranged from Markie Post's mullet (yes I know it has nothing to do with Doctor Who) to Formicida the Ant Lady from Wonder Woman (our hotel room got upgraded bc our original room had ANTS MUTHAFUCKA ANTS) to how fanwanky "The Doctor's Wife" is (yea, well at least we got to collectively cum hard once, instead of edging over months for not as much release as we deserve) and much more besides. A big personal highlight for me was when Eric Roberts yelled a compliment across the room about my scarf, but the best part was the camraderie, running into an old friend, or a new one, & being delighted to discover what ELSE you have in common besides the incredible institution that is Doctor Who.
Next year will be the show's 50th anniversary and as you can probably guess, I'm already pre-registered!! Clearly, it's not too early to start ordering hats/scarves to help me fund the next trip!!
Thanks so much to all the con staff & attendees for making this the best weekend of the whole damn year! Can't wait til next time!!
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Avoiding the Biddy-ness....
...or, More Crazy Hoes I used to Know....
I recently ran into a former...roommate? Partner in Crime? Fag Hag? All these words, and many more could describe who she was to me, but let's just call her Biddy. We first met back in the Fall of 1992, right after I'd graduated from High School. We met at the 1st university I attended (yes, the one where I got a 0.5 cuz I was out drinking and playing cards all the time); she was the manager of the radio station where I volunteered, a senior about to graduate with a BA in theatre. We became friends, she was about 7 years older than I was but we had a lot in common, at least musically. OK we both loved Sinead O'Connor & often stayed up late on the phone doing Sinead sing-a-longs. She moved to NOLA right after the University placed me on Academic Suspension & my parents and I were fussing all the time & I ended up staying with her for a while. I was going thru a pretty self-destructive phase & I pushed her (and alot of other people I cared about) away.
Things got really crucial for me for awhile, and I had to spend some time in rehab. When I got out, I moved back in with my family & stayed sober but the problems we had weren't resolved & it was still just as much fussing, I was just sober the whole time. Not to mention unemployed & slung up in Hahnville with no car. Which sucked.
One day, she & I were on the phone & she heard how my Dad was talking to me & she just said, grrl enough is enough. Pack what you need to take with you. You can stay with me. We will work it out.
She had just graduated from UNO with an MA in Film Direction & I thought she was going places. What I did not realize was that despite her education, she didn't really have much in the way of Ambition, and the best thing she could come up with to make ends meet was selling handmade jewelry at the French Market, and that wasn't cutting it. I was sleeping on her couch, and grateful that she let me stay there, so when someone she knew offered to let her sell pot for them, I was all on board about it. Neither one of us had jobs & we both knew lots of people that smoked so it just seemed like a good idea. (It just sounds so stupid now) At first, she was getting daily phone calls from Sallie Mae, Discover Card, Mastercard, Entergy, you name it, people wanted their money. So I helped her out, the only way I knew how. On top of the bizz I was helping her with, I also got two jobs (Catering & working at a local magazine) while she mostly just sat on the couch, bitching, freaking out about money, and not taking her psych meds.
She let me drive her car around to do "errands" and she would let me have $20 per day "walking around money" as she called it. I would have to pay for parking, get cigarettes & food & keep gas in the car on this amount of money, despite all the hundreds of dollars at a time that I was bringing her. Anyway, I moved in around Halloween & by Christmas, Sallie Mae & all them other hoes had stopped calling & we were doing well enough that we moved into another, two-bedroom place down the street.
I thought things would be different, like now that we were in "our house" & not "hers" things would be split more 50-50. But no. She still wanted to take all the money, pay our joint bills and her personal ones (and my fines for getting busted with her stuff) and give me a $20 per diem, all the time ready to flip on me if I brought her the wrong fast food, or God Forbid, that the food should be cold.
She was so lazy that she couldn't even be bothered to go out & do sales. She had all sorts of ppl in & out of that place & our landlord lived like 2 blocks away. He got wind of what was going on up in there, and in June of 1999, right after I turned 25, he came by the place & basically told us he knew what we were up to & that he wasn't calling the police, but that he wanted us to leave. I was grateful he wasn't calling the cops but Miss Biddy was OUTRAGED. Instead of just admitting fault, she blew up on him. He never did call the police on us, even when she withheld the last month's rent & told him to keep the deposit to cover it.
During that last month, she was even more mean & unreasonable than I remembered. I was just as sick in this Nightmare of Co-depency that I had gotten myself entangled with, like one night I was driving back from getting her some fast food thru City Park, in the really cruisy part & this hot man pulled up alongside me in his car, flashing his piece at me. Well damn if I didn't end up poking this man in the woods. Naturally when I got home, Biddy's food was cold & she completely blew a gasket. She also threw her sandwich and fries at my head when I told her why I was late. She made me go back out & get her more fast food. This time, I went thru the park first & spent like 40 minutes fooling around with various dudes BEFORE I went and got her Number 11 from Burger King. Talk about passive-aggressive.
Anyway, we were both looking for a new place together but it was getting harder & harder for me to take her yelling at me for spending money or not letting her use my money to pay for drugs or whatever it was that day. She went camping with some friends of hers & left me the car & the night she got back, she paged me (lord, who remembers pagers any more?) and I stopped at the store to pick up some cigarettes for both of us on the way home. My backpack was in the front seat of her car & I must have forgotten to lock the car properly, because by the time I got home, I realized that my smiley-face backpack was gone. Snatched. With all my ID plus $$$ & pot. Miss Biddy carried on yelling at me about how she couldn't afford my fuckups for a solid 2 hours. Eventually she tired her self out & I just sat in the living room, crying in silent devastation.
.I thought about it. Prayed about it. & then I made my choice. I went to the stash box & took half the money & product, packed enough clothes for a few days, & headed over to stay with my friend Swervella, leaving a note that basically said, "This is all over between us. I can't take this any more. You are mean and greedy and I'm tired of paying for everything and it never being good enough. I'm taking half of what was in the box & I don't expect to hear from you again."
Swervella let me stay there, and of course old girl showed up on his front porch the following morning, at the crack of 11, crying and begging me to talk to her, to not abandon her, to keep being her roommate, etc etc etc. I went to the house with her and I explained how I felt. How I had been paying bills that weren't mine to pay and constantly being demeaned & yelled at (often in front of our friends) and she tried to justify this or that and I think she must have realized that she wasn't going to get what she wanted & she finally just said, "Sam, I need you to tell me that it's over, that I'm just too much of a nightmare to live with."
The fact is that not only was she a nightmare, she was giving me nightmares, I often woke up screaming at her to stop yelling at me already, so I told her what she asked me to say.
Within a month, I had legally earned enough $$ with a little help from Swervella to get my own place and I tried to be civil with Miss Biddy, at least civil enough to get her to front me one last bit of pot & then tell her that I wasn't paying later on because I had paid more than enough of her bills. She was living on someone else's couch & really didn't appreciate what I had to say about the situation, but there you have it. This would have been in the late summer/early fall of 1999. Last I heard, she had moved back to Larose or Cutoff or some place like that with this guy who liked fat girls around early 2000.
Well, you'll never guess who showed up working at the drinks booth at the Freret Market last month. Yep, Big Bad Biddy, looking bad. All haggard in the face & fat in the waist & I wasn't sure it was her at first, but I called her name as she passed by my stall, she stopped, we talked...civilly. There was no hugging. Just a sort of mutual "How've you been" "Good" sort of a thing. She asked if my scarves were knit or crochet. I told her knit, and gave her one of my Witty Knitter business cards. She never came into my booth. She said, "well, I wish you luck with it." I said, "Likewise." and that was all we had to say to each other.
A part of me rejoiced at how bad she looks. I admit it. To say Miss Biddy is in her mid-40s now, she looks closer to her late 50s-early 60s. Bad highlights on her already stringy hair. But I don't know, the joy has kind of gone out of it. It's just sad. She was never going to be Angelina Jolie or some other sex symbol but Wow. It makes me even gladder that I didn't follow her down that twisted path she was guiding me on.
I learned a lot of things from living with her & every day since I got my MA, I try to do things to avoid the Biddy-ness. Like I feel it creep up on me if I'm inactive for too long, I'm very wary of days when I just wanna sit around on the couch and bitch, or if I start to feel like I'm the victim of circumstances and not a participant in my own life. It's not easy though. Sometimes it just seems so much easier just to sit around and wish for better things and justify bad behavior but really it's not. Really it just leads to regrets and recriminations and who has the energy for all that?
I have been thinking a lot about this lately, as I find myself at (yet another) crossroads. Since this thing at IHSNO doesn't seem to be working out, I made some phone calls yesterday & found out that I am able to go back to working at the med skool as a Standardized Patient and that the restaurant where I have been doing my guest-star stuff is looking for actual staff, so that is how I will spend this semester, and probably the summer. I have also decided to apply to Tulane's PhD in French program for the Fall. Hopefully I will be able to do some tutoring to make a little extra $$ as well. I am trying not to look at this as doing more of the same, but rather as doing things I don't neccessarily want to do now so I can do what I want to do later.
Wish me Luck!!
I recently ran into a former...roommate? Partner in Crime? Fag Hag? All these words, and many more could describe who she was to me, but let's just call her Biddy. We first met back in the Fall of 1992, right after I'd graduated from High School. We met at the 1st university I attended (yes, the one where I got a 0.5 cuz I was out drinking and playing cards all the time); she was the manager of the radio station where I volunteered, a senior about to graduate with a BA in theatre. We became friends, she was about 7 years older than I was but we had a lot in common, at least musically. OK we both loved Sinead O'Connor & often stayed up late on the phone doing Sinead sing-a-longs. She moved to NOLA right after the University placed me on Academic Suspension & my parents and I were fussing all the time & I ended up staying with her for a while. I was going thru a pretty self-destructive phase & I pushed her (and alot of other people I cared about) away.
Things got really crucial for me for awhile, and I had to spend some time in rehab. When I got out, I moved back in with my family & stayed sober but the problems we had weren't resolved & it was still just as much fussing, I was just sober the whole time. Not to mention unemployed & slung up in Hahnville with no car. Which sucked.
One day, she & I were on the phone & she heard how my Dad was talking to me & she just said, grrl enough is enough. Pack what you need to take with you. You can stay with me. We will work it out.
She had just graduated from UNO with an MA in Film Direction & I thought she was going places. What I did not realize was that despite her education, she didn't really have much in the way of Ambition, and the best thing she could come up with to make ends meet was selling handmade jewelry at the French Market, and that wasn't cutting it. I was sleeping on her couch, and grateful that she let me stay there, so when someone she knew offered to let her sell pot for them, I was all on board about it. Neither one of us had jobs & we both knew lots of people that smoked so it just seemed like a good idea. (It just sounds so stupid now) At first, she was getting daily phone calls from Sallie Mae, Discover Card, Mastercard, Entergy, you name it, people wanted their money. So I helped her out, the only way I knew how. On top of the bizz I was helping her with, I also got two jobs (Catering & working at a local magazine) while she mostly just sat on the couch, bitching, freaking out about money, and not taking her psych meds.
She let me drive her car around to do "errands" and she would let me have $20 per day "walking around money" as she called it. I would have to pay for parking, get cigarettes & food & keep gas in the car on this amount of money, despite all the hundreds of dollars at a time that I was bringing her. Anyway, I moved in around Halloween & by Christmas, Sallie Mae & all them other hoes had stopped calling & we were doing well enough that we moved into another, two-bedroom place down the street.
I thought things would be different, like now that we were in "our house" & not "hers" things would be split more 50-50. But no. She still wanted to take all the money, pay our joint bills and her personal ones (and my fines for getting busted with her stuff) and give me a $20 per diem, all the time ready to flip on me if I brought her the wrong fast food, or God Forbid, that the food should be cold.
She was so lazy that she couldn't even be bothered to go out & do sales. She had all sorts of ppl in & out of that place & our landlord lived like 2 blocks away. He got wind of what was going on up in there, and in June of 1999, right after I turned 25, he came by the place & basically told us he knew what we were up to & that he wasn't calling the police, but that he wanted us to leave. I was grateful he wasn't calling the cops but Miss Biddy was OUTRAGED. Instead of just admitting fault, she blew up on him. He never did call the police on us, even when she withheld the last month's rent & told him to keep the deposit to cover it.
During that last month, she was even more mean & unreasonable than I remembered. I was just as sick in this Nightmare of Co-depency that I had gotten myself entangled with, like one night I was driving back from getting her some fast food thru City Park, in the really cruisy part & this hot man pulled up alongside me in his car, flashing his piece at me. Well damn if I didn't end up poking this man in the woods. Naturally when I got home, Biddy's food was cold & she completely blew a gasket. She also threw her sandwich and fries at my head when I told her why I was late. She made me go back out & get her more fast food. This time, I went thru the park first & spent like 40 minutes fooling around with various dudes BEFORE I went and got her Number 11 from Burger King. Talk about passive-aggressive.
Anyway, we were both looking for a new place together but it was getting harder & harder for me to take her yelling at me for spending money or not letting her use my money to pay for drugs or whatever it was that day. She went camping with some friends of hers & left me the car & the night she got back, she paged me (lord, who remembers pagers any more?) and I stopped at the store to pick up some cigarettes for both of us on the way home. My backpack was in the front seat of her car & I must have forgotten to lock the car properly, because by the time I got home, I realized that my smiley-face backpack was gone. Snatched. With all my ID plus $$$ & pot. Miss Biddy carried on yelling at me about how she couldn't afford my fuckups for a solid 2 hours. Eventually she tired her self out & I just sat in the living room, crying in silent devastation.
.I thought about it. Prayed about it. & then I made my choice. I went to the stash box & took half the money & product, packed enough clothes for a few days, & headed over to stay with my friend Swervella, leaving a note that basically said, "This is all over between us. I can't take this any more. You are mean and greedy and I'm tired of paying for everything and it never being good enough. I'm taking half of what was in the box & I don't expect to hear from you again."
Swervella let me stay there, and of course old girl showed up on his front porch the following morning, at the crack of 11, crying and begging me to talk to her, to not abandon her, to keep being her roommate, etc etc etc. I went to the house with her and I explained how I felt. How I had been paying bills that weren't mine to pay and constantly being demeaned & yelled at (often in front of our friends) and she tried to justify this or that and I think she must have realized that she wasn't going to get what she wanted & she finally just said, "Sam, I need you to tell me that it's over, that I'm just too much of a nightmare to live with."
The fact is that not only was she a nightmare, she was giving me nightmares, I often woke up screaming at her to stop yelling at me already, so I told her what she asked me to say.
Within a month, I had legally earned enough $$ with a little help from Swervella to get my own place and I tried to be civil with Miss Biddy, at least civil enough to get her to front me one last bit of pot & then tell her that I wasn't paying later on because I had paid more than enough of her bills. She was living on someone else's couch & really didn't appreciate what I had to say about the situation, but there you have it. This would have been in the late summer/early fall of 1999. Last I heard, she had moved back to Larose or Cutoff or some place like that with this guy who liked fat girls around early 2000.
Well, you'll never guess who showed up working at the drinks booth at the Freret Market last month. Yep, Big Bad Biddy, looking bad. All haggard in the face & fat in the waist & I wasn't sure it was her at first, but I called her name as she passed by my stall, she stopped, we talked...civilly. There was no hugging. Just a sort of mutual "How've you been" "Good" sort of a thing. She asked if my scarves were knit or crochet. I told her knit, and gave her one of my Witty Knitter business cards. She never came into my booth. She said, "well, I wish you luck with it." I said, "Likewise." and that was all we had to say to each other.
A part of me rejoiced at how bad she looks. I admit it. To say Miss Biddy is in her mid-40s now, she looks closer to her late 50s-early 60s. Bad highlights on her already stringy hair. But I don't know, the joy has kind of gone out of it. It's just sad. She was never going to be Angelina Jolie or some other sex symbol but Wow. It makes me even gladder that I didn't follow her down that twisted path she was guiding me on.
I learned a lot of things from living with her & every day since I got my MA, I try to do things to avoid the Biddy-ness. Like I feel it creep up on me if I'm inactive for too long, I'm very wary of days when I just wanna sit around on the couch and bitch, or if I start to feel like I'm the victim of circumstances and not a participant in my own life. It's not easy though. Sometimes it just seems so much easier just to sit around and wish for better things and justify bad behavior but really it's not. Really it just leads to regrets and recriminations and who has the energy for all that?
I have been thinking a lot about this lately, as I find myself at (yet another) crossroads. Since this thing at IHSNO doesn't seem to be working out, I made some phone calls yesterday & found out that I am able to go back to working at the med skool as a Standardized Patient and that the restaurant where I have been doing my guest-star stuff is looking for actual staff, so that is how I will spend this semester, and probably the summer. I have also decided to apply to Tulane's PhD in French program for the Fall. Hopefully I will be able to do some tutoring to make a little extra $$ as well. I am trying not to look at this as doing more of the same, but rather as doing things I don't neccessarily want to do now so I can do what I want to do later.
Wish me Luck!!
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