Marie Antoinette

I liked Marie Antoinette, yes I did. I liked the music, I liked the costumes, I liked the shoes and I liked the story. And before the Diplomat jumps at me, I have three words for him: High School Musical. There now quiet down peanut gallery.

The movie has a lot of good and a lot of bad, which I guess makes it controversial. The acting is terrible, but Kristen Dunst and Jason S (not sure what his last name is) are not good actors, and they tend to deliver flat lines and flat characters. It was hard watching that, but she is a pretty adorable girl in the same way Marie Antoinette was, she was a bit more aristocratic, at least from the portraits that exist. Versailles is beautiful; there are only a handful of palaces in the world that can show how absolute power reigned. It is a world within a world, a place where reality is not accepted. It is in fact rejected and a new reality was created out of marble, and limestone. The Grand Trianon and the Petit Trianon are perfect examples.

But to get to my point, the thing that impressed me the most about the movie was the way Sofia Coppola tells the tale. I have to say that I read Steven Zweig biography of the late French queen, and not Antonia Fraser’s (the one the movie is based on) and I have always felt that no matter who had married Louis the XVI th, the outcome would have been the same. France had been ruled by the Bourbons with little regard to the middle and lower classes for centuries, and the American Revolution which was partly sponsored by France and the food shortages led to the peasant (I would severely question, this fact, it was mostly a revolution organized and lead by the bourgeoisie, who wanted to have more say in the country’s affairs) uprising that we now call the French Revolution. There was looting and many, many of the lower aristocrats were killed, and most of the high ranking aristocrats were able to flee the country and then returned after Robespierre’s Reign of Terror. It has always been my theory that any other European princess would have had the same fate, of course this is a game of what ifs that is not worth playing to far, but history time and time again comes full circle and we see how the individuals in power are puppets of currents that sweep the globe as much as they are makers of their and their people’s destinies.

That said, the movie shows us that world, so often romanticizes by novelists and play writes, and shows us if not exactly how it was and how people talked and acted a good insight into the ridiculous situations this people were thrown into. How could they not loose all contact with reality when they had to put on a show every morning, and when they would eat lunch and be a show for the rest of courtiers. Those were the themes that resounded with me from the movie and which made it an interesting and thoughtful exercise in movie making.

Somewhat rested

The weekend as nice, busy yet not busy enough for me not to get 7 hours of sleep each day, I could write about our multiple adventures, but the Scientist wrote a good piece about a party we went to at the BGG, or the Big Gay Gym. The party was ok, I was in a terrible mood, so I made use of the extra hour on Saturday and went to bed early.

Sunday was nice, I should have studied for a project I am supposed to take next week but decided to swim, go to the gym and hung out with the Scientist and the Diplomat. Had brunch with Imelda and her ex, and was an all around nice day.

Not much to report here, I got assigned into a new project and hence I am busy, busy, busy, stressed, stressed, and stressed. It is sad, I thought that the rest of the year was going to be nice and quiet and apparently it will not be the case. I am kind of sorta hyperventilating, because I am expected to do all these things and learn a new technology in one week and then go present and exam and it is all supposed to be a cakewalk but it is not going to be. Sigh, there goes my workout schedule.

More tomorrow when I have had time to digest it all.

Tired

I.need.sleep
Not sure what happened this week, but I am wipped, and need to sleep. Want to bet I will not be able to get it over the weekend?

Reasons

Good posts like good men are hard to compose. I sometimes ask myself why I make myself write every day – ok, ok, as close as possible to every day as I can – and I still do not have any good answers. I am not using the blog as a soap box, been way to sensitive to even try and start. No one would ever shut me up otherwise. But yesterday came close to being the first time I wrote and entry that I thought was well done, honest, not terribly over done and jus right. So I have little to follow that up with. Reminds me of that post on failure the Scientist wrote about the “this I believe” entry on failure.

Like the writer of that essay, I know that only 1 out of 10 posts will be a decent read. I am not kidding myself, most of what goes on here is navel gazing. Little old me focusing on me and my little problems and nothing else, but it is fun and it is my mental exercise, in the middle of proposals and boring documents that have to be written for work. So there I guess that is my reason, also because I do hope to eventually do something more creative with my life and this seems like good training. Another good reason is that I can not afford therapy, and I can afford a half hour or so every day keeping track of my thoughts. Lastly it forces myself to do it, if I was pretending to be a nineteen century heroine and writing my little journal it would never work, besides what would I write for myself, to do lists? Sorry essays on how I am right the world is wrong? Or just accounts of my dry routine. Nah none of them would be challenging and I would stop doing them. This website works like a deadline, where I know that someone will come at some point during the day and if they see a new post they might read it, they might not, but they will not think, this lazy ass knitter has stopped knitting and blogging.

Those are my reasons to blog. My question to all the other bloggers out there is why do you blog ?

Just a Shag ... I thought I knew that

He was looking at me from the stairs at the bar, talking to his friends and holding a beer. Cute, no not cute, good looking very good looking, blue eyes, dark hair, slim body, 5’9” and a runners build. I of course did not think he was looking at me, so I continued going up and got to the second floor of Halo and continued my shenanigans with the boys. But every so often I would feel a look and would find him looking or smiling. I of course looked back and smiled. Finally we got tired of Halo and went to JR’s, as we were walking out I looked around and could not see him, he left already I thought.

Fast forward two hours later to Cobalt, somehow we had decided JR’s was not fun enough and off to the third bar of the night we went. Upstairs the dance floor was ok, we twirled and turned but the music started being repetitive and boring, so we went downstairs and talked a bit more. Slowly the gang starts to melt, people go home, and at the end its just Imelda and me. As we were leaving I looked around and see him smiling me. I do not give this a thought and tell Imelda that I need to go home, and sleep, we head for the door and again I feel the look, and just when I am in the door, Imelda tells me to go and talk to him. Why? I asked, well he has been cruising you all night he said. I question, and ponder and decide to go and see what this one wants. I turned back and went straight to where he stood, with another beer in his hand, say Hi, and start some small conversation, hi I am Pablo, I am Eric he responds. Finally he just leans in and kisses me and asks to stay the night, and I say why not? So off we went on a cab home, Imelda, the trick and me.

We get home and talk a little, guess it’s the get to know each other part, he is from Pennsylvania, 37, cute as can be, we start kissing and making out, he feels good against my skin. Get to bed, undress, and continue, we managed to get up three times through the night and continue. Of course I can detect the smell of beer on him, you know that acrid-sweet smell, reminded me of one of the first boys I dated. We wake up, talk more. He is the youngest of 5, a part time writer. He asks if I have had a long term relationship and I am honest and say, no never lasted more than 5 months. He has been with someone for 7 years, ouch I feel so unaccomplished so we make out a little more. I make coffee and take him home, then go to swim practice and carry out with the day.

When I left him home, we exchanged numbers and he even enquired if I would be available that week. I said yes and told him to call me. He did and I called back but then we never met. For a week or so, I kind of hoped to meet this guy again, if just to see him in day light and talk to him more, and hopefully kiss him a bit more. I left two messages and never heard back and a week later I realized that I had forgotten the first rule of tricking: it was just a shag, just that. I of course chose to forget, but deep down I knew it.

My Drug

This month the swimmie book club is reading “A million little pieces”, a book I am not very interested in, but I am reading it, and I am making strides, but as was the case with the last book, I might not get it done before 2 weeks. There is so much pucking in this book that I feel like I have read about throwing up for the rest of my life. Ok, I am being facetious, the book is interestingly written, I specially enjoy its short prose and its use of sentences in lieu of paragraphs. Reading about addictions makes me always think of mine, for years and years my addiction was doing nothing, sitting around reading, playing the aloof intellectual perpetually misunderstood by my pears. Then I joined the swim team and the whole tune changed, I became more active and by active I mean physically active. I started swimming and then I picked u the gym and I am at a stage where I try to work out everyday, and feel guilty if I do not work out one day. This is stupid and nonsensical I reckon, but I do. I give myself one free day every week – today is the high heel race and it will be the day because I need to be somewhere at 6:30 and there is no time to do anything at the gym. But most days you will find me at the gym or at the pool. Yesterday was no surprise, I left work then went to the gym and lifted, did some abs and spined.
The interesting thing is how exercise changes my state of mind. I had had a long day, with some small tasks at work. I got into a tizzy with a friend that was being bitchy, and as a result I was tired and just ready to go home and sit on my couch. But I know myself well enough, I would not manage an afternoon at home with the TV and nothing else. I went to the gym, and I did the weights (biceps and triceps) and then the abs class, both boring. Then headed to the spin class, and had one of those classes where you are able to do everything and do it right. My legs were tired but the high I get from doing it and being tired and the little pain all over that tells me I have done something right is exhilarating. It is something not all my friends understand, but some do (that would be the Scientist and Imelda). After the gym I got some groceries and came home, watched some TV while the Diplomat and the neighbor came for dinner. After they left and I was putting stuff away, brushing my teeth I realized how addicted to the cardio part of exercise I am. It is not the weights, and sometimes it is not the swimming but it is the spinning and the stair master that give me this sense of happiness that can only be compared with a high. I left the gym ready to slaughter dragons and giants and I am grateful for that, at the same time I am grateful for the insight because it most definitely is something I need to keep in check.

On the subject of man bags

I have a confession; I would love for the man bag to be back in vogue. I have tried to use a satchel – not just any satchel, but a Ben Sherman one – as a murse, but it is too big, and bulky. When I walk into a bar with it, I looks like I just came from school with all my supplies and that is just not chic. So I am in the market for a smaller bag, one where I can carry the following:

Keys

Cell phone

Wallet

Book,

Power bars

Gum

Change

It is not too much to ask is it ? Just a nice, small bag where I can carry all these things. It would alleviate my pockets, because nothing looks worse than a short guy with his pockets full of stuff. I mean I already avoid pleated pants like the plague, not sure who in their right mind would wear pleated pants anyway, but especially if you are short.

Why am I bringing this up, because I have nothing else to say, on the one hand, and an anonymous person left a comment on my previous post with a link to the following picture:

I will never look like a footballer, at all, specially one that is so “straight”. I can say that people that went to school with me were fooled for a while and that I take as a badge of honor, because fooling another queen for 1.5 years is quite the accomplishment. And on more randomness I am feeling better, I am still not completely well, but I am winning over this stupid cold. The only problem is that everyone I know has had this cold, or is in the process of having it, and so the likelihood of my falling sick again, is well great.

Out sick

So, finally broke down and stayed home today to chill and see if I get over this cold. Trying to not do too much, but have some work to do.

Very disappointed at Project Runway, but that is life, your favorites can not win every time - that is what my grandmother says.

Ooooops !!

I have been known to be clumsy. I can not walk on heals, do dainty things, or even try to thread a needle, but at least I have never done this:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20061018/od_nm/picasso1_dc

Steven Wynn, was showing one of his Picasso’s after selling it and he literally ripped a whole on the canvass. Now that is being clumsy.

The good, the bad and the ugly

This week the big gay film festival is in town, well, more like the gays are at the Lincoln theater for gay movies. As usual I got a pass, so that I can see as many movies as I want, and not have to deal with the buying tickets, getting in late, and fighting the desire to watch movie, when you have a pass you just go in and watch, you pay, but the hassle diminish and because you have paid you tend to go more often. Anyway, even if you do not go, you feel good because you have given a donation to a decent gay organization – One in Ten.

The big problem with the festival is that the movies tend to be of three types: the good (very scarce), the bad (plentiful) and finally the ugly (depends on the country making the movie and your appreciation of the film in question). Sometimes there are movies that are good and ugly, or bad and ugly, and then there are the good and bad, which means they had some terrific parts and some horrible parts, and you can not make your mind weather the bad was bad enough to hate the movie, or just enough to make you appreciate the few scenes worth watching.

So far I have seen 5 movies and here is the score:

Shortbus – good and bad, I was not complete taken by it.

Boy Culture – bad, bad, bad

C.R.A.Z.Y – good, definitely good.

20 Centimeters – good and ugly, a good movie about a horrible situation, the director made no effort to pretty the reality at all, except for the musical numbers.

Mother Nature – good and bad, had some good looking people and a semi decent story line, but that was it, too crowded, too many subplots and twists and turns and distractions.

Finally last night I watch Divided Sky, it was a Mexican movie and I was not hopeful, but I was interested to see how gay life was portrayed in Mexico City with a Mexican crew and production team. This was a bad and ugly movie. Slow, and with very little dialogue, the story line was not rich enough to keep a 2 hr 15 minute feature running and the actors were not bad, but I never had any buy in, maybe I was never 18 and in love, but I never got it. They never talked! And then there was a narrator that would do voice-overs, where he would explain the emotions the characters felt. The music was not good, and the boys were not that attractive.

I was planning on boring you with reviews of all the movies, but I am completely uninspired today. I am still sick, but I came to work anyway. Today is the Project Rungay finale; I have my dress ready so lets see what everyone else comes up with, can.not.wait.

300,000,000

This is not surprise to anyone, but today, just before I hopped in the shower and headed to work the 300 million person entered the US. According to the US Census it was a likely on of my people, a little Latino baby, we go people! Today is a random day, I am still sick but came to the office because I was bored at home and would not be able to accomplish much.

I have to admit that I am a bit surprised at the response the last post had, I thought about a lot while I was trying to make a dress/outfit for Project Runway’s Finale tomorrow and the more I thought about the more I liked the entry and its response. This is an open forum where we all can air our opinions, thoughts and musings and it is healthy when one does not agree with all one’s friends all the time. It even made me feel like Andrew Sullivan for a change.

On other news I got a new cell phone, it’s a Samsung d something or other, based on the feedback given by everyone but especially by Cherry Ride and the Music Guru. I have yet to name him, it’s a he, I just know. It is also white – no I am not a racist - they had them in grey and white and I thought that this one was not only gayer but more modern and has a sleek feel to it, almost like it belongs in a lounge in NYC. He makes me happy mostly because I can read text messages again and the display is big and clear and I have this great wallpaper of parrot feathers that looks a bit like the rainbow flag, so I might have to change that but I am loving it right now.

For the time being that is all, I could complain about how behind I am on my reading, and my knitting, but there is no point. We all know that.

Welcome to my un-pc world

What do you do when a friend of yours goes to a dinner party with you, and gets mad at un pc comments made by you and others and goes quiet all of sudden. What do you do when you give said friend a ride home, and he says nothing? For once I have decided to do nothing. There is nothing I can apologize for, nor there anything that was personal or even wrong – in my view – that happened. I guess I should just write about what happened and let you make up your mind.

Yesterday a lovely dinner was had at the architect’s house, with a very interesting group of people, I guess mostly singles – except for the couple hosting the party – and with a majority of non swimmers. The conversation flowed in all directions, but as usual the conversation took a turn towards crime, and I mentioned that what the city need sis ruthless police work, and the rest of the guests chimed in. No, for once I was neither the most outspoken nor the harshest – people change I guess – but as soon as the subject was dealt with, my friend quieted down. I just knew that his ultra-liberal self had been insulted, and I wanted to apologize but he is the one person that this happens repeatedly with. The dinner party continued and we left and that was when I truly felt it, but for once I decided not to apologize, not to take the blunt of responsibility, I realized that I can not carry a dinner party on my shoulders, specially when I was flirting with the boy on my left.

And now is when I get to do my little tirade, because of all the people in the world, I find those overeducated liberals that are always fighting the lost causes a little bit off, like not grounded on reality. Unfortunately my friend is one of those, with a bachelor’s from and Ivy League School in Boston and a PhD from another one, he hardly counts as one of the many oppressed by the American system. I have to recognize that yes, he is a gay man, and a minority, but he grew up in San Francisco and has had many, many opportunities. So please do not come and get offended when crime is discussed and people that have been mugged or know personally of people that have been attacked, are well, not willing to give people a pass.

Breath in, breath out, end of rant!

It was a fabulous weekend, watched four movies; one was terrible the other three went from excellent to good.

PS. Do not tell the Diplomat, but my legs hurt, I made the mistake of doing legs Saturday before the movies and I did not stretch. Can you say Lactic acid?

I am ... coming out !

This week, as a result of MAM – Miss Adams Morgan – or just luck, I have had to tell 2 coworkers I am gay. It was an empowering moment, because it allowed me to confirm that with some people at work I can be out and all is fine and will continue to be fine. The funny thing is how round about the conversations happened. The interesting one was with out Office Manager/HR head, she is a great lady and I have a good relationship with her, but had never had the homo talk, I knew she knew.

The conversation happened very casually we were in our kitchen having lunch, watching TV, and for some reason the subject of cars came up. I mentioned how pragmatical I am when it comes to cars and that I could never buy a sporty, impractical car, because even it was just me, I always think of times when I need to drive people around, or go to the supermarket or the mall and where am I going to put my bags? She said that she knew exactly what I meant, she was the same and we both compared the types of cars we had both acquired lately.

Then she maid a funny comment, she mentioned how she had a driven a Mercedes, that was a friend of a friend’s car. But it was weird, the way she said it. So I asked about the car and she said she loved it but she is not ready for it. So I thought the conversation was over and as I was going to turn back to the TV, but she continued talking about the car, and how it was a convertible and had a hard roof and it was great but so impractical. The she maid her confession, she said that her husband’s best friend was gay and that the Mercedes was his partner’s car. Aha! I thought, I knew there was some weird reference to something in the “friend of a friend” phrase. So I said well you know I am gay and she said that yeah she knew and then we discussed living in the city and living in the suburbs and how as a gay man I could not live in the suburbs, mainly because I am single and need to be where the single people are, and secondly because I do not need to pay private school for kids. She said she could never live in the city but that she knew exactly what I meant and then we talked about her gay friend and his partner, who love their dogs, have a lot of money, travel all the time, been married – so she referred to the partner as husband – for 5 years and live in upstate New York. Not to be upstaged I mentioned the swim team, and all the multiple couples I know and how long they have been together – funny how it became like a competition, where I could not brag of a partner for my own, but dam it, I know partnered people too.

As is usual she told me how the husband’s friend, who was their best man, came out to her during a party. How she had no idea, how if he was single she would introduce him to me- the fact that I live in DC and he lives in up State New York, seems not be a problem in the straight world I assume. It was a fun little conversation, so leave it to beaver, about gay and straight couples and nice houses and cars, so of course I had to up the ante and mentioned how I was so wiped after MAM. She asked what it was, and I told her the whole story, she looked at me, and she said that she had a coworker when she worked for Marriot who was not just gay, but did drag on the side – shocker I know – and then asked me if I wanted to tell her something, so I just said, well D, of course I have done drag, but I am not sure people in the office are ready for the pictures.

So there, now there is probably a rumor that the token fag in the office is a part time drag queen, oh if they only knew that my make up skills are nill.

My kingdom for a shell

This week, I was talking to the Diplomat and realized that in the last 4 years I have managed to loose my shell. We both agreed that we had both lost out shells, but in this case I choose to talk about my shell – I mean this is my blog, so I get to choose when the attention is on me. Well so what do I mean by my shell, you ask, before I became a social person, I was a very introverted guy, who had realized he was gay, but could not really deal with it and who knew his friends could most certainly not deal with it, so instead of developing emotionally honest friendships, chose to have friends and acquaintances but no real connection.

I was the king of chit-chat. I have always had tons to say, but never something meaningful about myself. In that manner I survived High School and university and moved to the States. But as I started coming out, and realizing that people were ok with the fact that I was gay and that they even liked me – I was surprised – I lost a shell I had built to protect myself. It was heavy but very useful. It kept me in my comfort zone and helped me focus on the many tasks at hand. In this way I merrily rolled along, doing, doing, and doing always doing but rarely feeling anything. Then of course I joined the swim team and “blossomed” – a word I am stealing from a psychologist that told my parents I need to be allowed to fail a couple of classes in middle school so that I would blossom, poor thing she was clueless – into this man I have become. But the price I have paid is that I had to leave my shell somewhere between Arlington and DC, and now I feel vulnerable. I feel like I have given too much control to others, and that a big part of who I am is a response to others and the need to be liked and accepted. The irony is that the more I am accepted the more I feel like I need to keep being accepted, and of course now I do not need to hide the fact that I am gay – except with Mom, sorry Mom, you are not ready yet, well maybe you are, but I am definitely not ready for you to know.

To make a story short, I miss my shell, and the days when I thought that “I was an island”. Specially when you organize things and take part in group decision and realize that someone will always be mad, or will disagree with my judgment. I should have known this was going to happen when I joined the board of the swim team, but I am just tired of being surprised and hurt by people criticism and opinions.

Sigh, but do not worry dear reader, I am planning to turn into a tortoise again. I just need to develop a hard skin. It was to be hard enough to make me resilient to others but thin enough to let me care about what is important. I guess that is the key, to find what is really important and to not worry about the rest. Wow, I guess there is some depth underneath my rolls of fat, now how does one go about figuring the important things out? If you know, let me know.

More adventures in Grocery Shopping

NB. The first three paragraphs of the post were written yesterday they last one was written today.

Eating healthy is a goal, a necessity and part of my routine, or so I like to think. Of course there are always days when I fall of the wagon and have some Oreo cookies – or cukis, like I say – or some fries, or a second helping of something or other. But mostly I stay honest. To stay honest I need to get good groceries and to get good groceries I need to go to Whole foods. Any reader of mine knows, I am huge fan of Whole foods, the Diplomat always makes fun of me for going there, but I love the layout, the fact that it’s a small market and that I find almost everything I need there. I have to confess that I will buy paper towels, detergent toothbrushes and all that at the regular supermarket, because I do not like the cleaning and miscellaneous organic products.

Because the weekend was, well hectic, I ended up with no food at home, none whatsoever, and yesterday when I got home the only thing edible in my fridge was a wedge of Manchego. Today I went to Wholefoods while on my lunch break and got the usual, coffee, tomatoes, bananas, apples, the very staples of any house, things that keep for a week and that can be part of snacks or meals. The only extravagance in my list was coffee, and that was because I tried this new Mexican Coffee from Oaxaca. But other than that, I did not get anything expensive, such as wine, or dessert or prosciutto or anything. Well I paid 90 bucks, yes 90 bucks for 4 small bags of groceries. I mean who can pay those prices ? Apparently everyone in this area –the market was packed with gays, yuppies, hippies and soccer moms, but not me. The tomatoes alone were $ 9.64, that a whole meal in Mexico City!

No wonder people are obese, if you choose all the unhealthy foods and go out and eat processed food you could get the same amount of meals I got for half the price, but of course you get thrice the calories. What is a fatty to do? I am already in a battle with my metabolism should I just stop based on prices? I do not think so. Anyway I am not planning on changing my purchasing plans, unless I go back to an office closer to a better regular market, but damn my wallet is in shock.

Jump 12 hours for me, and today (Wednesday) I open the bag of carrots I bought yesterday and as usual, they were soaked. That is not necessarily a problem, but they were beginning to rot. Half the carrots were beginning to have a funny smell or a slimy feel which makes me gag – not the only thing that makes me gag – and I had to through them out. Arggghhhhh I hate throwing food out, but what was I to do eat rotten vegetables? So the only solution will be to follow the Scientist advice and get the non pealed carrots and chop a few every day, sigh. I guess I just figured what my lunch errand will be today.

Quiet Tuesday

Not much to say today, except that I am tired. I got a massage yesterday and the poor masseuse was exhausted and not only that but I fell asleep after the whole thing – which never happens to someone as high strung as me.

I am afraid it is one of those days, where being productive is a challenge. It is like I can not concentrate at all. Probably some side effect of Alzheimer or something, or perhaps the lack of working out. I have not seen the gym in a month, seriously, a month. After shaving my legs, I went spinning yesterday and realized they look like Miss Piggy’s legs. I am not kidding. They are so pink and … rotund.

The good news is that I uploaded the pictures from SF, the B’day party and Miss Adams Morgan to my computer and I cam putting them in Picasa and cropping, editing and deleting where as I see fit. Also I need some pictures from the Diplomat who has more pictures of the party and Miss Adams.

In the mean time I am teasing you with this pretty shot of two beauties making their way home at 2:30 in the morning:

My Feet hurt

After 1.5 hours of trimming, and shaving and plucking I was ready. I put my dress, globes, jewelry, nylons and shoes on a bag. I then got the makeup I already had and some extras just in case someone needed something else and headed out the door to pick the Diplomat and the Neighbor and take them to the drag house where we were all getting ready.

We got there at 4:30 and started applying makeup, this year I was determined not to let my five o’clock shadow show, well at least not let it show within an hour of shaving, so applied conceiler – not sure what the spelling is – then base then the rest. What a nightmare, putting the eye makeup is a pain in the …. Awful not sure how women do it every day. I could not at all. And even after I did you could see my shadow after several hours. But regardless the look was much more professional than last years Kelly Osborne pre-rehab do. Besides at the very last minute I got a coat, because the evening was going t be chilly, a fabulous fake fur coat I might add.

So two hours later we were all dolled up, literally not figuratively, and off we went to the Hilton on Connecticut. Lets just say that as in most gay events the more you go the more fun you have. I am not sure why that is, but for the first time in three years of going, I was able to enjoy it all, and I was not paying attention to the show. For those that do not know the Miss Adams Morgan is a beauty pageant with a talent portion that runs for three hours and there is not a lot of talent. But one has to give the girls credit for putting the show together. It is also funny how drag transforms people, it transforms me and even with no liquor on me, or very little, I was stone sober the entire evening, it gives you permission to let go and just have fun besides because we are all dressed up, there is no added pressure of meeting people or being attractive, or looking too fat too short or too ugly (that is for me, for the rest, well they have their own issues to resolve) but those are mine. Anyway fun was had by all, I saw old friends, made some new ones, mostly people who wanted to take my picture – I blame it on the hair, beautiful blond wig the approximate size of Pluto – or the great pink dress that made me look chic and sophisticated., or the heals which bring me to the subject of the post. How on earth do women do it? How someone tell me.

I wore these shoes: in gold, so do some imagination, no online pic of the gold, use your imaginations:

And they went very well with the dress and were comfortable to begin with, but later as the evening progressed and we walked from the hotel to JR’s, from JR’s to Annie’s, from Annie’s to my car and then home, they got increasingly painful. The more time passed the less I could walk. I was able to stand still no problem, but the walking. I tried everything, taking the shoes off that did not work, putting them back on, that didn’t work, small steps, big steps, different steps, nothing, nothing worked.

Yes there are pictures, but I need to do that at home, these are not pictures that can be downloaded at work, not with the cubes we have here where everyone can see into everyone else’s business. I leave you with the following image:

The last table at Annie’s, 10 tired and somewhat drunk guests sitting down for breakfast or dinner – what do you call the meal at 1 am?. When all of a sudden a lounge singer comes with her back up singers, after everyone has eaten and renditions of Carpenter songs are sung to the dismay or joy of the rest of the patrons.

Somewhat back to regular scheduled programming

It is weird after three weeks to sit in my desk and look over the grey paneling of my cube and see that nothing really changed. Everything is as I left it, except me that is. The last three weeks have been harrowing, and long, it feels like I was gone for ages, yet it was just a month – if you count the week I spent in San Francisco with the family.

The trip was great, we all had fun, and I told dad, yes it slipped out, before breakfast one morning but no discussion was had. It felt like a news bulletin that was not digested or analyzed, but it is out there. What I told dad you ask, well I told him I was never going to have children, mainly because I am gay. So now he knows, not sure what he is going to do with it, but something for sure. I need to post some of the pictures of the trip, but not sure how, since I need to give my family access to them and I am not sure my mom is ready to see the Chicago pictures of me in a peach dress and blond curls. So need to put them up somewhere so that they can see them and then take them down, or just send them prints of the best pictures. Not sure how I will solve the dilemma. Of course it’s a stupid dilemma o have because a friend of mine that studied her LLM with my cousin in G’town stumbled upon my yahoo pictures and asked about the camping trip, of course that is not the only folder out there, so for sure she saw the others. And if she has seen them , lord knows who else has seen them, and the chain can be built ad infinitum, though I am sure my parents are not tech savvy enough get there themselves unless someone shows them. And if that happens, well, pffff, I will face the music and dance. But this is not a post about personal privacy and what happens when one goes online, that is beyond me and once I started blogging I realized I would loose some of that privacy. On the other hand I do not believe I am interesting or important enough for people to keep tabs on me, so it is not one of my concerns.

There was an emotional hiccup, when at the end of the trip I could tell my dad wanted to say something, yet I was doing my bags, getting ready for bed and all those little details one needs to take care of when your flight leaves at 7 am the next morning, at that time we almost had a conversation about it. I could tell that there was something that he was going to tell me, but I just did not know what to say, how to bring it up. So I decided not to make it easy for him, and he never said a word. He watch me pack my bags, call a cab and then as I looked up and saw him sitting on the other bed in the room looking back at me, waiting to say something, something I am hoping a would have been “Son, we love you anyway, plus we knew already”. But nothing came out, so I picked up the book I was reading and read for 20 minutes or so. There was no point in me asking if he wanted to say something, I thought he would. He didn’t. So I read for 20 minutes and went to bed.

Anyway, besides this little emotional page out of The Remains of the Day, the trip was fantastic. I ate to much, and gained like 3 or 4 pounds, and visited all these places I did not know. I loved the De Young Museum, the collection is terrible but the new building is a work of art worth visiting even if it was empty and fell in love with Carmel by the Sea, one of those little picturesque towns where one can see the beauty of the Pacific Ocean and can smell and feel the money of the town. We did some shopping – we are Mexicans - that is what we do when we go “visit” other countries. It was a great time, and it made me realize how much I adore my family, with all its little quirks and idiosyncrasies.

See I am back, I will post about the torturous classes I took and the project I failed on tomorrow or Friday. My self confidence is shaken and felt that I needed to write about SF before I can write about the three weeks that followed. I have not seen the gym in a month, yes, one month. I am officially the size of a minky whale.

Game over

I finished my class and project yesterday and here is the score:

Exam 1 - Pass
Exam 2 - Pass
Exam 3 - Pass
Project - Failed

So i there ya go. A little more when I am done with catching up with work email.

Yous truly,

The retard