I finally learned the truth about everything here at Mizzou.

According to several offices, most importantly the transportation office from which I atempted to gain a parking sticker, I am classified as a transfer student. Yes, it's like I chose to live on another college's campus, and must park in a lot that's as far away from my classes as my dorm and eat there and not get Ethernet or cable TV or paint my walls--even though every student parked at he Virginia Ave. lot can WALK to class in under two minutes. So, I was furious and smoked a lot.

Which probably wasn't good, because I was called back for the role of Hero in "AFTHOTWTTF." Hero's the male romantic sort-of lead, and has a great song called "Love, I Hear," in addition to featured solos in many other songs. Unfortunately, Graham, the Louis boy who's from Naperville, I discovered today while conversing with him, was also called back for Hero. So, I'm not getting it. I'm really nervous, although I know I may as well not even go to the callback. Wouldn't it be grand, a freshman with a lead? Only in my sordid little world would that happen. Pah.

Well, well, well--another pretty miserable day to add to the list.

But first, let me tell you about Louis.

Louis?

Louis Vuitton?

Yes, that's right--I thought you've heard of him.

And so, apparently, had this very queer, very twinkish fellow who auditioned with me tonight. He was DECKED OUT in queerness--tight tight adorable jeans, a light blue shirt and a Burberry tie. The late Mr. Vuitton gave him that extra-special "Look at me! I'm RICH!" look, with an amazingly smart Louis messenger bag. I loved it, and want to be his best friend and worst enemy.

The audition went terrible, or so I thought. I was decidedly the ONLY freshman there. I sang my song, not from memory like everyone else, but with sheet music in my hand I'd copied but moments prior. My tone was terrible (for me), and I didn't get 30% of the words right.

But then, after the "dance audition" ("Prance accross the stage a few times, boyth! Yes, that's right! Good! THuper! You're done."), he did the usual lineup of people who, nine times out of ten, get cast as leads. And who did he call?

I know you'll never guess. I nearly wet my Gap star-bedecked boxers.

Me. And these seniors, the ones whose names he knew like they were the fruit of his fruity loins, who did amazing jobs. I'm not sure...maybe I was just filling in for someone who wasn't present? Hmm.

Callbacks are tomorrow. I find out if I make them tomorrow AM.

Otheriwse, I think Erin's sick of me, I have quarter-size blisters from wearing my "patent leather" (or so said the Neimann Marcus and Cartier salespeople) flipflops, I got a parking ticket, and I do not understand anything in my AG class (Should I, like, read the book or something?).

I'll post more later. Later as in tomorrow AM.

Class is nearly complete for the day.

Last night, we had our triangle coalition (TriCo) meeting. There were at least thirty people there--a good showing, when considering how many other gay men I've seen on campus that weren't in attendance. We went out to a bar, Heidelberg's, afterwards. Apparently, they dont card at Berg's, but i was unable to take advanage of this loose policy because I drove there. Soon and very soon.

Tonigh, I'm auditioning for the MU production of Stephen Sondheim's "A Funny Thing Happened on the way to the Forum." I'm sort of excited. What should and should not be capitalized in that title?

Sorry, I'm not in a particularly type-ish mood right now. I'll be back soon.

Hey--I have a gentleman from Brazil named Iago reading my blog. Everyone read his!

I'm typing to my base of readers, near and far, from Erin's dorm room. It's smaller than mine, but with much nicer fixtures and really fun people in the neighbouring rooms.

The aforementioned best friend and I auditioned for choir tonight. Our new choir director is, upon first glance and lecture, older than Moses, and clearly is not happy about being here. He seems gruff and set in his ways, frequently referring to the previous director of choral music at Mizzou as a failure. The university literally begged him twice to come. He's retired and spoke about God giving us our talents at least as many times as he has rings around his metaphorical trunk.

So, I auditioned. I just sang fifth scales (I bet there's a REAL term for that). First, we went low. Now, keep in mind I'm generally a really horrible singer, unless I'm under an insane amount of pressure (which I was). So, I was far, far below anything I'd every sung (at least a low low C) and he determined I was a Bass 2 right off the bat. Then, we went up and I probably made it to an A in full voice. An A! What the junger. (That's a Mariam Chaudry-ism) So, he lavished on and on about me being an excellent singer and how I could make a living singing and blah blah blah...and then he clearly stated he wanted me to be in the FRESHMAN CHOIR. I'm sorry, but no. That doesn't work for me.

And tomake me feel even worse about all of this, Jesse called me today with his choir issues. Keep in mind Jesse is at least 14 times more talented than I am. He has an amazing baritone voice. So, clearly this old man doesn't know anything about music and I shouldn't be in choir. Right?

I have a Spectrum meeting tomorrow. Hopefully then I'll make a few friends. But how would that even work? Whatever...maybe I'll run for a position in office.

My lovely Laurne sent me this program in the mail which allows me to play ANY Nintendo game in existence! It's very fun, and I loved the card. Also, Jesse sent me a care package consisting of a cocktail-mixing book which I looked through and adore, and a picture frame of the two of us being drunk at a party in Millikin. And, oh, a phone card so I can phone him whenever and wherever I want. Everyone--send me things so I don't use my razorblades for shaving the skin on my wrists! Yeah!

I'm going to be brief.

Today was a pseudo-good day. The first good day I've had so far.

My philosophy/logic teacher (not a professor) looks yonger and stupider han me. he seems to really enjoy homework, swearing, and taking the Lord's name in vain. His first two words: "Jeeeeeeeeeesus CHRIST!" Hm.

From philo, I have to walk all the way across campus for my big lecture class, American Goveernment. The prof. seemed sort of queer until he told us all about his wife and children. The class seems like a bore, and I generally like politically-grounded classes. He talked for at least twenty minutes about some football maneuver, at which point I drooled profusely onto the chubby Kansan sitting next to me. (Kidding.)

Following AG, I have French. How excited am I! I have an african-american female teacher, who recently moved from France to hell...aka Columbia MO. (They call it CoMo around here--as if it had any of the class that the italian town does...) She is so wonderful! I love her broken English, and she seems very interesting. Her parents moved to France from Nigeria. I'm going to like this class.

Skip ahead two hours...not talking about choir right now...

My final class of the day, Astronomy, is another lecture hall-structured classes, except a bit more intimate. My professor for THAT class is from...no joke...Englans. Covered in tattoos and with red-streaked hair, she is amazingly fun. I'm really looking forward to my letter two classes.
I'd better get off the line; Erin's supposed to call me.

Smell y'all later. (YAY COMO!)

Today marks the start of my official status as "college student." I have all four of my classes today, and while they're all nestled next to each other chronologically, they are seemingly at opposite ends of the campus. Hmph.

I'm currently sitting in the dorm room of Chris Jensen, a friend I met indirectly through the All-State show. Washington U, the college in which he is enrolled, is immaculate. The architecture is beautiful, the general feeling on campus is friendly and non-fraternity seeming, and the adjoining town (University City, a branch off of St. Louis) is one of the quaintest college towns I've seen. Very Corsiclassy (New word, everyone!), with trendy restaurants, cafes, indie movie theaters, and resale shops. Like Evanston, only with a denser collection of unusual places and in MISSOURI. I would love to attend Wash U, if it were only an hour away from Chicago and not in jean shorts-prone Missouri.

I'll probably spend the night, and sleep in his absent roommate's bed. I'm very tired; I had an eight-hour shift at the Gap this morning, which was poorly preceded by three hours of sleep. I stayed awake until well after 2AM, only to have Christian barge in the room just as I was about to settle into a tranquil slumber. Modesty. Key word. Oh, and the room door's been left unlocked more times than a Columbia citizen eats pork rinds as a "chic snack."

Tomorrow afternoon, I'm participating in Mizzou's "column walk through" event (it does have a real name), a tradition that involves all incoming freshmen strolling through the famous (huh?) columns into the main campus, as a sort of welcoming gesture. (Mizzou grads walk back out through the columns upon graduation as a sort of farewell exercise in foolishness.)

Horray for that. Hm.

I didn't know that "horray" should actually be spelled "hooray;" I learned that several days ago. I'm keeping it my way.

I think I may be developing a bit of a Missourian accent...I need to come home.

And the storm-swept clouds part.

I was doing laundry at about 11:30 tonight, a time when most college students are getting laid/drunk/stoned/a combination of the latter three scenarios. Suddenly, a beautiful ivory angel sweeps my attention from Jonathan Franzen and his tale of strong motion. Neesann, a sophomore pre-med major, happened to also be doing laundry. So, to my spellbound delight, we chatted for a long while about fine fashion, the low morale of our peers, and the wonderfulness that Chicago is. (She interned at the Chicago branch of the FDA over the summer.) She is the lowly pale bud on the stem of an angry rosebush. I think I'm in love.

Another great thing today: I happened to stumble accross ex-boyfriend Bob's away message, which held a little link to a hoard of very decent poetry he'd scribed. I encourage you all to visit and enjoy. I mean, come now--who else would refer to Maya Angelou's nudity lighheartedly? He is a brave man.

Christian and I went to the Super Wal-Mart to get some pittly supplies. I don't know how to tell him I smoke. Hell...I don't know how to tell him I'm GAY...and Theo's hopefully coming next weekend, so I'll have to act fast. Shit.

Any suggestions?

I'm reading Theo's archives right now. It's sort of peculiar and random to think about how much has happened in such little time. I almost forgot about how while my chest caves in, his chest dents out, creating a human puzzle of sorts, with only two perfectly-fitting pieces.

Work.

All i have to say is this: My manager bought a shirt with her discount for $9.45, only to have her credit card decline. Jesus fucking christ. What am I doing with my life.

the following post was written yesterday at around 5:00. Needless to say, I was in a helter-skelter mood. Things are better now than they were yesterday. Not great, but better.

So, I’m alone. Just me, in my “dorm room,” with my computer that does not connect to the Internet yet (this will be posted later) and a fan that is keeping the 100-degree Missouri weather at bay. While this residence hall has air conditioning, there may as well be a space heater at full blast in the corner for all I know...being on the top floor (no elevator) allows all the wonderful heat to rise in my direction. Hooray for me, Mr. College Man!

I’m not sure how I feel about all of this, regardless of how forlorn my tone may have been above. This may be a quasi-fun year for me; I can’t predict right now. In the wake of a tearful goodbye to my parents and sister, all that’s keeping me together right now is the knowledge that I can form a path out of this World Trade Center basement! When the dawn breaks and I receive an acceptance letter from GW or NW for next year, I will know that no terrorist, no toothless bigot, no drawling professor will be
able to deny me my right to a great education, surrounded by liberal inteligent peers. Peers. Hmm. I know I should be out, wandering the halls of my building, introducing myself to my fellow Hillcrest-ians, but I don’t want to.

I cried about Theo and leaving from Dundee to DeKalb.

I'm currently typing in the "computer lab" (Read: four old computers in the back of the lobby). I'll post more soon, when i get my computer set up. For now, I'll leave you with this: I miss Theo, love that Erin is here, and am sort of scared about the whole coming out process with my roommate. Write more later.

Brian is only one 45 dollar ticket, 5 and half hours and a short car journey (or so he says) away from me. That's good to know.

I'm leaving. I've cried all day--first, when I left Theo's house this morning. Sobbed all the way home. then, my father gave me a sort of "pep talk," and he got choked up and had to go inside. (We were on the front porch.) Then, my mother gave me a hug, and I "bawled" for several moments. I'm sure that won't be the last time I cry today. I'll post when I get settled in.

If any of you would like to have my school address, for a legitimate reason, please E-mail me at Boyinbrownshirt@aol.com. I have a REALLY long day tomorrow.

Aah, the wonders of technology–I’m currently sitting in my massive Grand Marquis; to grandmother’s house I go. (I’ll actually post this later.)

Yesterday, I woke up early to meet Theo in the city. Things never go as planned; transportation was an issue because I wanted to take the blue line in, while he opted for the train. It was confusing. But, we made it in and toured Bucktown (Wicker Park) for several hours. After dining at Earwax (By far, the sketchiest bathroom I’ve ever witnessed) and purchasing fun recordable CDs at Orange Skin, we took the Blue Line back to my car and drove to his house for an evening of...well, in case James’ mother is reading this again, I’ll refrain from delving into tawdry details.

I was originally planning on going straight home after our meal at Panera last night, but as I was driving home, my friend Lauren called me. Lauren and I used to be the best of friends, but as most friendships deteriorate with age and separation, so did ours. But, I still think she’s a very fun and great person. (Should I have said “nice ‘n cool” instead?) We met at AMC 30 and saw “The Bourne Identity,” after I shot down her suggested idea, “Blue Crush.” Sorry, but no. Just no.

The Matt Damon flick was alright–unplausible, but alright.

Today, I delivered my little church choir solo with precision and drowsy ease. Funny–smoking has not changed my voice much at all–my range is still exactly the same, and my tone quality hasn’t depleted a bit. (Knocking on plastic wood trim in car)

I'd post exensively about the trip to Bucktown, good sex with Theo, and surprising trip to see "The Bourne Identity" with my friend Lauren, but I'm quite tired and have a solo to sing at the aforementioned never-before-attended church. I'll be back tomorrow.

Indeed.

Oh yes--new CDs I've purchased are as follows:

Verve-Remixed
Ani's Revelling/Reckoning
Ani's Dilate

Pretty basic. I guess it seemed more fun before I typed it out.

I'm currently writing to you all from my new, shiny HP notebook computer. Sorry, it's no Powerbook G4, but it will serve its purpose well.

I haven't posted in days; much has happened.

My car began to dramatically overheat on my return trip from CB2 with Theo. Thus, it took us four hours to return to Woodfield, and ultimately six hours for me to return home. We had to pull over every ten minutes; it was rediculous. Never before, however, have I witnessed how innocently only-childlike Theo is. I think there's a definite level of patience one acquires when dealing with siblings; when we pulled into the Woodfield Nordstrom parking lot, Theo bolted out of my car faster than one could utter "carborator." It was fine, though--I was able to read a very interesting article about September 11 in this month's Esquire.

I had the Midas gentlemen repair my car in no time--the thermostat that allows coolant into the engine snapped in half and refused to work. Sixty-five dollars later, I'm speeding around the greaer Dundee area like never before.

Today, I lunched with the choir teacher's daughter--and what a surprise/coincidence! The choir teacher herself just happened to be having lunch with HER middle-aged friends at the same restaurant--at the table facing ours! Horray for fun times like that. I survived--that's all I'm saying.

This keyboard will take some getting used to.

I worked for the last time tonight. Tres uneventful. Don't want to return for Christmas. (Don't want to work at the Missouri Gap the day after I move in either, but, whatever.)

Tomorrow, I'm spending the day and night with Theo. Sunday, I'm singing a solo in a church at which I've never attended a service, visiting my Waukegan grandparents and maternal side of the extended family, and seeing Erin Donnelly and possibly a cast of others as I attempt to piece together a group to see "TMLMTBGB."

College shopping mostly done. I just need a wine rack, Williams & Sonoma cutlery set, and some antique furniture pieces to replace the beachwood shit they supply me with. Practical, right?

Another night of watching B-movies with the Drunk Shannon clan ensued, because apparently not one else wishes to do anything with me. Hmm.

College shopping ensues. Lots of college shopping. Too much college shopping.

So, my roommate.

Intersting facts about Christian include:
--6'3" tall
--Enrolled in Navy/ROTC
--Older brother has paralyzing spinal injury
--Went to all-boys private high school
--Lifeguards (Self proclaimed "water rat")
--Into martial arts

I can't really tell if we're going to get along right now. Obviously, with his aspirations to go into the Navy, he's not going to like my homosexuality. This is not going to be cool. I don't want another high school experience in college. But, he seems reall nice and cool. 6'3"--that's TALL!

Off shopping for college.

I had the absolute worst day at work yesterday. I saw way too many people I know and despise. Then, because we were very un-busy and had 14 employees working the sales floor, they started cutting people, and even though I told them I needed to do college shopping with my mother, they refused to let me go. I don't think I'm going back to Spring Hill during my winter break. This weekend was Friends and Family weekend--while Deer Park made $100,000 and Michigan Ave. made $160,000 on Saturday alone, SpringHill made around $8,000, which was a grand short of our goal for the day. Who knows if my Gap will even exist when I return from school.

My roommate called while I was in the shower yesterday. The poor chap--he had to deal with the overbearing fool that is my mother upon first interaction with me. I called him back when I got home from work at 8:30, but he was away. He left a message on my machine this morning--he seems like someone who wouldn't like me--i.e. heterosexual football player "big man on campus." I'll call him after I'm done posting. (I'm really scared/nervous.)

I thought Erin, Cyndi and I were supposed to meet to depart for the city around 3:00 this afternoon, but apparently they didn't say that. I don't really know if I even want to go in.

I'm feeling better today. I've thought it over,and I'm pretty sure I'll just suffer. If I really hate it, I can always come home for winter semester. We'll see--I may even transfer out of my prison-esque digs before the fall semester is over.

I hate working. Especially for Friends and Family weekend. Not only is work not a fun thing to do on the weekend, but my schedule negates the possibility of traveling to teh city to enjoy Market Days. Whatever...I need the money.

Well, it doesn't look like I'm going away to school after all. I'm pretty sure it's fucking rediculous that I have to go to a school I don't even want to go to, live on some OTHER shitty college's campus, not have cable television or Ethernet, have to eat at the OTHER really shitty college's shitty cafeterias--I don't even know if using Mizzouri's bathrooms would be acceptable, since I'm not even a goddamned resident at their fucking shitty-ass college. So, I'm not going. We're calling Missouri today, my mother and I (the time what was going to be spent buying things for college will be spent canceling my registration at Mizzou). I'll just figure something else out for the fall semester. Fuck that. Fuck that hard and bloodily.

And I'm really sick of all the passive-aggression that happens on Blogs. Like, "Oh, well if I just post about it, I don't actually have to SAY anything to that person--they'll get it." Fuck passive-aggressionists.

I am so unspeakably pissed right now.

The only good thing of late is that Theo and I now have matching Tiffany's rings.

I don't even know what to type, I'm in such a funk. I feel like everything in my life is changing colours--it'll all be the same stress, pressure, disappointment, and overall unhappiness, but with a different colored piece of mylar in front of the spotlight. I'll still be working for some faceless, forgotten fossil of a corporation, just with new people I'll inevetably dislike. I'll still be going to school, except this time I may actually have to study or something. I'll still have Theo, I suppose, but he certainly doesn't seem very hopeful or interested in his contract for next season's episodes. Why should I feel guilty for accidentally slipping a "what's up?" into a phone conversation with him? Oh, golly, that's right--because I'll always be the submissive bitch. Of this relationship, or any relationship.

Moving on...

The only things that will be constant in my life are Erin and cigarettes. They will eventually betray me, too--Erin will make shiny new friends, and leave me to fend for myself among the GLBT remains, while cigarettes will ruin my voice, decrease my breathing capabilities, and further disappoint my parents, who, by the way, hate me. (My mother reamed me out on my cell this afternoon while I was driving to the city about my smoking, my oration to my parents about my desire for a decent computer, and generally how I'm destined to be a fuckup.)

I hate crying when I cry, but for some reason I always long to cry when I can't.

I don't think I've ever felt so confused about this relationship. Last night was...very bizarre and irrational, and I'm still trying to understand how everything came to pass. Otherwise, everything else is old and nothing else is new.

I am so unspeakably, frustratingly pissed right now. I'm really stressed, I need a CIGARETTE, I had to spend the entire day with my utterly neurotic/schizophrenic family today in Chciago, and other things that I'm not going to type about. I need to talk to someone.

Ravinia was grand, as it always should be. it was not, as I suspected, the CSO's last performance. Oh, Shannon.

Call me insensitive, but I am sick of this overplayed news story about the nine rescued miners. Every commentator on NPR is constantly hearalding the story as one "the nation really needed in the wake of September 11." There's that hackeneyed phrase I despise--the wake of September 11. I'm glad they were rescued, but is it really necessary for the media to engulf this story and paint it as a wonderful, miraculous act of God-granted heroism? Let's not make it out as something it's not, just so as a nation, WE can feel catharsized or something about this. It happened at least a week ago, and yet the Chicago Tribune website (my homepage) still features an extensive link to the pictures and stories on their main page. I have no heart, what can I say.

I was supposed to go to Ravinia tonight with C. Shannon, to witness the CSO's last performance of the season. But, instead, it looks like she may be going to a wedding early...I don't know what's going on, and I'd like to get these thigns ironed out soon so I can make backup plans if necessary.

Oh, and one last thing. If I ever have to make a PlanetOut profile again, I will certainly include "Waking Life" as one of my favourite films. This independent animation film was essentially a dissertation on dreams and their relation to death and our jaded sense of reality, set to the most amazing animation I have ever seen. It wasn't a traditional, fluid motion animation style--it was more like someone painted each animation cell without comparing it to the last cell he drew, so it has a non-cohesive, non-linear style, which I found to be amazing. I could have muted the film and just enjoyed the animation, but the score and dream-related discussions were much too intense. I reccommend all of you to see it.

I'm still having issues, except now, I've been thinking about them all non-stop, so their viscosity has intensified. I'm having sleepless nights followed by mornings I should be waking up early to greet. I hate this.

Oh, and it's confirmed--I'm officially staying in a residence hall NOT located on my university's campus. Yes, my dorm is located several blocks away from Mizzou's campus on a really shitty college's three-yard sprawl, Stephens College. So, my mother's pissed, Erin's pissed, and I'm certainly "pissed."

Tonight, I get to work during some teenage night at the mall spectacle--as if the teenyboppers aren't already on the prowl at Spring Hill every other night. Apparently, some female named Kaci will be performing. No clue.

Oh, the good thing (ONLY good thing) that I've done or has happened is as follows: I blew half of my traveler's checks shopping in the city yesterday. Yes, in three hours, I tore through...well, a lot of money. I'm not going to get specific.