First off - thanks to all you nice peeps with the kind words about my writing. Every message, comment, IM, or brunch compliment fuels my drive to create. I truly do appreciate it.

Now driving into work today, I was listening to an Ani Difranco concert album where she was reminiscing about a perfect moment in time. She was describing an experience in which she felt like everything was "just okay". "You ever have a day like that?", she asked.

I really love those moments - where you take a pause in your life and you just look around and take it all in. And you see that it's good. I know that I have been pretty blessed to experience this a few times in my life and on varying levels. There have been moments at ends of performances I directed where the actors were smiling at me across the applauding audience. Through their sweaty expressions, I could feel their joy and it made everything woth it. And there was Christmas with my family where we are all were just laughing and enjoying each other's company and a good bottle of wine. I adore staring into someone's eyes with the perfect song playing in the background. And there was the perfect moment of seeing Tori sing Cool On Your Island with Jessica at UCLA. Nothing else existed as we held hands, and Tori's voice floated peacefully into the balcony.

I don't know if it is the grandeur of these moments that causes for such celebratory pause. As I sit here at my desk right now, I am trying to look all around and pause. Norah Jones is playing on my Itunes. The stuffed penguin that sits atop my screen is staring down at me, blankly. Making me smile is my cool Confessions promo poster and the Brokeback Mountain photo gallery that adorns the back of my cube. Pictures of my mom and I, my sister and I are pinned to my wall. My amazing boss is laughing in his office. Now Alanis is playing. It sounds crazy, but I feel really good - even in this tiny blip on the radar moment.

Give it a try. Sit back in your chair - look around - take a breath. See the good.

There will always be struggle intermingled with the triumph. But I will do my best to always see the light. Even if through tears.

What about it?

Last night, I went to see this new documentary, Unknown White Male. It's the story of Doug, who wakes up on a subway train in Coney Island, not remembering who he is or why he is there. The film then unfolds as to how he finds out the identity of his past and reconnects with his family and friends. More so though, the movie becomes about how he has to create a brand new identity, given that he has no memory of the man he was before. Though at times a bit long and unfocused, the film poses an interesting question: How strongly do the people in our lives shape the person we become?

At one point in the film, Doug is shown a home movie of himself and some friends from years ago. He watches with amazement, eyes wide and in shock, as the man he sees there is unrecognizable to the man he now barely knows himself to be. He speaks of how he does not relate to the old him, nor to the friends that he sees on screen, two of which happen to be in the room. It is sad to see him so scared about having lost all connection to a life he once had and cnnot understand. There is another poignant moment where an old female friend of his gives him a hug and then breaks down in his arms, crying. He stands there holding her with a lack of direct emotion on his face. He calmly takes her hand and walks her across the street back home. But one can see that he does this not out of love, but out of compassion for this woman who is saddened by the loss of her friend.

The film's poignancy is dualistic, because it not only shares this one man's story, but also asks the viewer to examine what makes he or she the person in the mirror. I was left wondering about how much my relationships make up the person that I am, and that if I was wiped out and made a blank slate, who I would be. Would I relate to everyone that I do in my life today, or have I just taught myself to relate to certain people based off of experiences we have shared or preconceived notions I have been given about that person? I know that my parents have had an obvious effect on the man I am today. And my siblings too. But I think it would be kinda cool to break a personality down into the origins of all its parts. Connect the dots and see what it was that caused me to love Madonna so much.

I certainly would not want to ever get amnesia. The entire prospect seems frightning. But I do wonder, if given the chance, what aspects of my life now would I not choose to further infuse. And in cases of gay men or women who have gotten amnesia, have they still been attracted to people of the same sex, thus proving that it is certainly no choice created by societal factors. Anyone ever hear of such a case?

I kinda think the question of what forms the person we have become is entirely fascinating.

What about it?

So I got this mass email from a friend that talked about letting people go and knowing when it's time to say goodbye. I scanned it briefly and left it in the inbox for a few weeks. But I recently decided to clear up my inbox a bit, and I read through the entire email. It stated that, "you've got to know when people's part in your story is over so that you don't keep trying to raise the dead." It got me thinking about certain relationships that I have in my life, and whether I am working to hold onto something dear, or if I'm just grasping on to a piece of history that keeps me attached to some emotional place of comfort.

When you have a friend for years and years who has shared so many aspects of your life, you feel as if there is nothing that can break that bond. But time comes into play and growth occurs, and all things do come to an end. So how do you know when it's over?

I guess in looking at past experience, trying to analyze the death of a relationship is meaningless. I mean, they find their end like everything else does - in a moment when you're not paying attention until one day it's just gone. And sometimes, a month passes by or two, and one calls the other and things start up again. It's like the ex calling after two months for that "let's have dinner and one more romp in the hay." But even after that, is the relationship ever the same?

I guess I am just trying to make sense of relationships, which can anyone ever really make sense of? I just want to understand the nature of people, and how we ebb and flow into each other's lives. I have friends who have come and gone with such ease. It's like our friendship is lubed. But then others, it's like going to the dentist and then having to cancel an appointment and reschedule and then you get too busy and you forget and so on and so on till you have that tooth ache, and then you have to go in. And is that a friendship, or a pain in the ass? And why does my head get all caught up in it?

I guess it's cause I'm sensitive, and I'd like to stay that way.

What about it?

There is only one television show as of late that I have watched religiously since it's current season began. I have raced home. I have cancelled plans with friends. I have no Tivo, so I have had to be committed to the time slot.

Project Runway.

Last night, the top three were chosen for Olympus fashion week. I sat riveted to my couch as my roommate fell asleep into a thera-flu induced coma, and her cats relaxed around my neck. Chloe, Daniel, Kara, and Santino were given an opportunity to design a dress that would act as a statement on the entire collection they would possibly get to show if chosen. It was all rather entertaining, even though I am no fashion designer. I still get into the artistic element that goes into the design and making of a garment.

I love that I used that word. Garment.

So, they are all in the design room, and they are putting their dresses together, and Chloe says that she is not so sure that she wants to get in to the finals anymore. "I just don't know how badly I want it." The others are shocked. I mean, why go this far to just let the air out of your tires. Still, she finishes her dress to somewhat disappointing results, and the judges must have been reading her mind (or they watched the tapes), because Heidi Klum straight up asked her, "We question how badly you want this?" In that moment, you could see that she really had to make that decision, and she said, "I wouldn't still be here if I didn't want it. This is my passion."

Theatre was my passion for such a long time. I could talk about it endlessly. I wrote for days. I ditched classes to work on rehearsals and build sets. There was nothing I wouldn't do to lead up to the big moment of opening night. I even quit a job over an opening night once. The friends I had were bonded to me through it, and my breath depended upon it.

That is now gone.

I work in film now. And I love it. But do I find the same rush on an opening day? No. Do I get the same excitement over a poster for an upcoming release that I used to get over posters for a new show that I had directed? Not as deeply. And passion should run deep, shouldn't it?

Can passion change, and certain parts of you fight it? Or can you just forget it and get sidetracked? I want to feel that if you are in your passion, there is no questioning or second-guessing. You just know, and you want it. For that reason, I think I may be on a path parallel to that of my greater path right now. And for that reason, I think that Chloe may not win. I guess in two week's time, we'll see. For me, only time will tell as well.

And yes, I got all of this from an episode of Project Runway.

What about it?

A few years ago, somone told me to check out this book, Creative Visualization, by Shakti Gawain, which asks you to visualize what you want in life in order to receive it. I got through the first chapter, but I was unable to focus entirely on the topic. I think it had to do with the idea that if it was as easy as making it up in my head with consistency and some believablility, then why had I not won my Oscar yet or been on Star Search. I mean, I must've practiced those moments in my life incessantly and with complete conviction. So is Shakti just full of it?

My guru Oprah Winfrey says, "I do believe, and I have seen in my own life, that Creative Visualization works." So if she is saying that it works, perhaps I was not doing it right. Perhaps it is not about lip-syncing the situation but actually sitting down and meditiating into the moment, bringing it to fruition with all of your being. Sure I saw myself getting three and three-quarter stars, but did I really believe it?

As much of a spiritualist that I believe myself to be, mediatating does not fall onto my daily to-do list ever. It probably should, as six espresso shots spread throughout one day does not hardly shock my system. In fact, I attempt to meditate every morning before I leave for work, but it ends up being a twenty second sit-down at the edge of my bed where I just end up quickly remembering the parking whereabouts of my car on the street. So I wonder what would happen if I took a bit more time in the morning to actually visualize myself in a situation for the day. Perhaps, a little magic could actually find it's way into my existence if I open my eyes to it.

Tomorrow, I think that I will place myself on the edge of my bed and creatively visualize that there is no line for my americano in the morning. That I walk right in and go directly up to the counter. That it comes perfectly frothy with just the right amount of foam. If I can start there, I feel that my day can be perfect. I can take my car in to be fixed, and they can say that it will take no time, and that I should have it back in a flash. In fact, it will cost me less than the estimate says, and I will save some money. And there will be no traffic on the 101. And, they'll give me a silver mini cooper as my rental. Shit. If all goes according to my grand visualization, tomorrow should be glorious!

Fuck "should". It will be glorious.

And so it shall be, and all that business.

I mean, who knows what can happen from there.


Well, I do.


Four stars on Star Search, mother-fucker, that's what.




What about it?

I couldn't take the embrace of a real romance
It would race right through me
I'm much better off the way things are
- Fiona Apple

A few years ago, I did a small bit in an underground mini-musical in New York City where I participated in a gay phone-sex chat number. It was pretty random and candidly funny. Now on the first day of rehearsal, I walked in and snagged eyes with this cute boy with an excellent smile. In that first glance that we shared, I felt this undeniable spark of connection between us. In my mind, I thought, "Oh wow. This is that thing people speak of. When you see someone, and you just know that you've met the one." I was ecstatic. Even in conversation, we had instant chemistry, and his voice was that of an angel, though even more beautiful than that cliched metaphor could even suggest.

After the reheasal, I walked with him down the avenue, and we spoke, unravelling the millions of ideas and personal historical similarities that we shared. Then, he announced it. "Just so you know, I have a boyfriend." "That's cool", I said. Of course I said it through the gritted-teeth cringe that had been created by the poisoned-tip dart that was now entering my imaginative romantic future's heart.

Destiney had not come a'knockin'. False alarm.

So through the course of the next few weeks, we would rehearse and we would flirt. Nothing more. Reality sincerely dictated to me that there would be nothing more, and that there was no denying the truth of that. I let him slip back into the Manhattan landscape and went on with my daily routine. Ocassionally, we would see each other, and I honestly do believe that there was some sort of connection there that went beyond my desired perception. In fact, years later we got together and had a fantastic night out that ended in a kiss. However, we have not seen each other on purpose since. We have spoken and alluded to the idea of getting together. I am sure we could be lovely friends.

There was no bitter tone to that.

I swear.

A similar story - back in December, I walked into my local Starbucks and made instant eye contact with this man of adorable proportions. He walked over to me, and we were engaged in conversation almost immediately. In that moment, as far as I was concerned, I was meeting my husband. This would be our story for the friends at dinner and for the kids come Christmas. I immediately gave him my number which my shy ass never does. And he took it. And then he didn't call. I figured I would run into him again, and of course I did. It's the neighborhood. So we chatted. We laughed. He talked about his kid. Wait, what? You have a kid? Oh, and a husband? That's great!

Dick deflated.

We continued chatting, and the man was pretty funny, and we ended up having tons in common. So what's a man to do? Over the past couple of months, we have become morning coffee friends, and I see him a few times a week. He's in the same type of work I'm in, and maybe he'll help steer me into future endeavors, which would be nice. And I no longer feel the pangs of unfairness anymore that plagued our first few encounters, so it's all good.

Still, stories like these make me wonder, when will I know? See, if both of these times I thought I was signing the fairy tale dotted line when I seriously wasn't, am I just destined to forever live out the Aries trait of false starts? Perhaps I am just delusional and no one wants to say anything? Also, is there such a thing as love at first sight? And if so, is it only astrologically destined for some and not others? I have some friends who are in perfectly healthy relationships with people they didn't think twice about upon first meeting. But then there are others who say, "Oh, he walked into the room and at that moment, I just knew." Are these people just full of shit and perpetuating the romantic comedy idea of what meeting your true love is supposed to be? I mean, really, are they just trying to piss me off?

I just don't know. I do know that I have a lot of questions as far as love goes that may never be answered. And for that matter, I may even find any sort of love like my friends have. But that doesn't stop me from being just so damn curious as to how my love story may play out, so I have to ask.

For now, I will just chill out and handle the fact that it's another V Day, and I am once again a single man.

What about it?

So I get this call yesterday from my roommate at work asking me if I knew what an ankh was. I say, "Sure. In fact, I used to have this necklace pendant of one that I wore for years, but I lost it like a month ago. I was still keeping it in my pocket as sort of a good luck charm, but I think it must've come out in the wash or something."

"Well" she said, "I think I just found it."

Turns out that as she was locking the front door to leave for work, she noticed an ankh taped to our front door. No note. Just taped by the doorknob. She then proceeded to tell me of this dream that she had about some guy trying to break into our house, and he was like some demon in clown makeup. She was very already freaked out by that, so the ancient Egyptian symbol anonymously taped to the door did not help matters.

The ankh is a personal symbol that has been around for me now for over a decade. My dance teacher in high school had used it as the symbol for her fall show, and I was fascinated by her and anything she introduced me to. That not only included the ankh, but also PJ Harvey, Bjork, and choreography, which yes I did do in her class. It was a time of discovering my personal freedom, as well as the awakening of my real creative expression. It was also when I started slowly creeping out of the closet, which continued into college in San Francisco, where I got the pendant.

Over time, I have come to know that the ankh is a powerful Egyptian symbol with many meanings. The most well observed is that it is the symbol for immortal life. It was how Gods and Kings were recognized in Egypt, demonstrating to others that they were not of mortal men. There are some who believed it was a symbol for water, while others a symbol for the sunrise.

In San Francisco, I was working in this metaphysical book shop, where my eyes were opening to many ideologies that I never even fathomed existed. It was there that I gained a further awareness of myself and found the cute little silver pendant that I wore. For me, it was a power symbol that asked me to stay true to myself, and to the man that I had set out in this lifetime to be.

So I don't know how the ankh got on our door. I mean, I guess there could be some logical explanation. My favorite is that the thing fell out of my pocket and landed on the doorstep, unbeknownst to me. For a month, it laid there until my kindly neighbor noticed it and figured it had to belong to the quirky gay kid next door. So, she taped it to the door, noteless and in a mad rush to the Blockbuster nearby for the latest season of Nip/Tuck. It's possible.

Perhaps, it's just a sign that I am meant to get in touch with my "authentic" self again. Or I am a God among mortals maybe? I should get back to choreography? Regardless, I'd love to know how it got there. I'm offering up an award that will be based on the recipient's needs. In desperate times, I have no shame. The sign of a true king.

What about it?

Yesterday was not the best of days.

I was in this mood that just pervades all interaction, causing everyone to feel like the enemy. I rushed out of work when I could and headed over to the gym, sure that it was my lack of eliptical time that was causing me to feel so damned out of it. I rode it for my usual 20 minutes and did the bike, watching 'The Simpsons' the whole time. I stretched. I left. I got into the car, and I cried. I felt completely lost, and not in the 'on a desert island with Matthew Fox' sort of way.

Mind you , it's been a long while since I have had one of those moments where I know what it feels like for a girl. That time of the month and just nobody understands. And in the past, this has gone on for days. This feeling of being uncertain about life, and the anger that comes from that dazed state. However, something about last night was different.

I got in the car and I drove. But I had a moment as PJ Harvey's "You Said Something" played into the car, where I thought about what I was doing to myself.
I was perpetuating this feeling of depression.
I was creating it by playing 'sad' music and lingering on lengthy thoughts of "there's no one to talk to."
I remembered seeing my parents last week, and how excited they were for me and my life. And the laughing we did on pictures from the past. I thought of my best friend Jessica and how she is always there for me and would be there for me at a second's serious notice. And not just her, but my other friends who are always giving me such love. And "Jump" came on, and I got all into that and I figured that life is not worth the beating I was giving myself. I don't deserve hell from anyone, especially myself.

Sure, there are crappy days, but fuck it. Time goes by. And we move on. I went home. I ate. I showered. I went and had a couple of drinks at MJ's and a good time.

I let go.

And I feel so much better today. Maybe it was the vodka? Regardless, I am proud of the fact that I caught myself just seconds before I hit the ground.

It's like The Hudsucker Proxy and you see Tim Robbins plummeting towards the ground. And just before he hits his end, he stops and gently lands on the ground. He gets up, running in glee at the sheer joy for life.
Now I wasn't giddy or anything, but I was sure glad to not wake up this morning with bruises.

Not that that is always a bad thing after a night at MJ's, right?

What about it?