Hair There Everywhere

I'm not cutting my hair short. I was really planning on doing it, turning my curly mass into something Ashton Kutcher-esque. But the fane--the fans love it. I have at least one person a day comment on how beautiful/lovely/awesome my hair is. Today, three people--three perfect (even moreso when complimenting me) strangers--casually said how much they loved my hair. The same Gap customer has come in three times now, since I began working two weeks ago, and said how much she enjoyed it. And really, I sometimes like my hair too. I always considered it my best and only good feature. So, popular concensus has struck the gavel--my hair is guilty of being fun and appealing.

Sorry, I needed to pick myself up. It's been a long day--worked from 7AM-3. It's really awkward seeing customers on the street, when I'm not wearing my cemented (more like demented) grin and blue tag. What do I do? I usually smile, casually, as if we'd met at a party sometime or something. Ha--Gap a party. I'm not hating working there as much as I used to hate it, schlepping the wares of a company I didn't really believe in. The all-gay cast I'm greeted with every day is fun, since they're much more flamboyant/amusing than myself. A manager asked me today if I'd give him permission to clone me. Psychologically, I only enjoy doing something if others think I'm doing a good job at it. So, I'm enjoying it so far.

Last night, I went to see L'Auberge Espagnole (Fr., "Spanish pudding") at Piper's Alley. Aside from the $8.75 ticket cost (can you BELIEVE IT?!?), I really enjoyed it. The film, "written" by the protagonist, chronicled his year of studying abroad in Barcelona and living in a beautiful apartment with 7 other students, all hailing from different European countries. Ok, so it was Real World Catalana, as one reviewer penned. But it was fun, the cinematography was inventive even compared to American cinema which, I'm afriad surpasses that of the French almost always (A French Matrix would not have been as popular; you go to French cinema for the plot), and I'm determined to study abroad at some point now. One of London's many universities has an outstanding journalism school. Theo, of course, became despondent when I told him about the idea.

Another night of hanging around the apartment and watching movies! Blah.

Singing and Assassinating

I hadn't seen my parents in weeks, I think. So, I was relieved when they drove down to Chicago to spend the day with me. We traipsed around the Loop, bought tickets to see "The Lion King" in early June (eh...), ate at the Italian Village (eh...), and saw "Assassins" at the Merle Reskin theatre, as performed by DePaul's highly-touted Theatre School. I was thoroughly unimpressed with their rendition of the little-known Sondheim show; the cast lacked talent and conviction, which just made the two-hour-long production drag (no intermission? yeesh.). To quote my mother: "I didn't not like it...I hated it." Personally, I love the unusual musical--Bob and I saw it together several years ago--and I'm hoping Loyola gives this show the justice it deserves when they perform it this fall.

After playing around on Metromix Friday night, in search of shows to see with my family, and standing in line to buy "Lion King" tickets Saturday afternoon, I became quite upset...no, angry, about the fact that I didn't see "tick, tick...BOOM!" this week. Bob said I'd have to give him head for him to take me to see it, and my parents weren't very excited about paying $30 a piece to see a musical they had no knowledge of. I'm just upset on several levels about this. Things/people/relationships change, I suppose.

Theo should be 1/4 moved in by the end of the day. That is good. I haven't seen nor spoken to many of my friends lately. That is bad.

Things that are sad.

(In order of least to greatest)
1. I've watched or taped the past several episodes of American Idol.
2. I tried to vote for Clay last night, but the line was forever busy.
3. I spent about an hour online, trying to figure out when auditions for the next season will be held.
4. I'm not going to class tonight, so I can watch the final episode.
5. In spite of my obsession, I don't even think these gentlemen are talented.

Sex and the City night tonight (after AI, of course) with Theo.

Are television shows italicized or in quotations?

Untitled

Aside from a lot of bickering with Theo (I just wasn't very nice at all), I didn't do much this past weekend. Most notably, my friend Tim invited Erin and me to accompany him to a film premiere downtown. He was involved/invited because of his membership in the CYSO, whose performance with one of the film's violinists was amazing. The film, Together, chronicles a young Chinese violinist's relationship with his father and his struggle to achieve success. I really enjoyed myself--a free CYSO concert featuring an acclaimed Chinese violinist on a $5 million Stradivarius, free food, free foreign film, a free ticket to see it again at the Esquire next week, and some time to catch up with a few good friends.

I had my first summer session class this evening. My Intro. to Microeconomics class is taught by a bumbling older man. Six hours a week with him, on a topic I have little interest with, will not be enjoyable.

Speak Gayish?

Last night, I had my first shift at Gap. Never before have I heard the Gayish language utilised to such an extreme--the staff at my store consists of gay males (in its entirety) and females. I'd never really thought much about it, because it's so obvious--gay men speak in their own dialect. There were moments last night when I thought I heard one man talking, but really it was someone else--they all speak the same. It's indescribable--somewhat feminine, but without the grace and timbre; a lisp (or sybilitic "s") is almost always present; words are presented with even emphasis and exaggeration; strangely enough, sometimes a slight Southern twang is evident, even if the speaker has never been south of the Union. I'm inevetably going to hate work, because I hate redundancy and I'm generally restless. But, I will refrain from writing about my job ALL THE TIME, because another journal I occasionally read focuses only on the author's work-related happenings. Which is boring and uninspired.

I just watched the "Dawson's Creek" series finale (I taped it). After not watching the show since Kevin Williamson turned the writing reigns over to someone else (I used to really dig him), it was certainly interesting. Since when did Dawson's father die? Since when did Jen have a baby? I did cry--because Williamson, who came back to write this final episode, wrote it so that people would cry (death of main character, everyone seeing each other for first time in years, Joey making decision, etc.). Joey's final decision really bothered me--I have never been a Pacey fan, and she even acknowledged that Dawson was her soulmate!--but I suppose I "get" the whole Dawson-being-alone-forever thing. Blah.

I never even see Theo anymore, it seems--he just comes to our apartment late at night, falls asleep, and then wakes up at 6AM or earlier. Quite upsetting.

Little India

After taking care of some administrative issues at Loyola, I decided to take a trip to Devon and Western. The shops and restaurants surrounding this intersection are Middle Eastern-oriented. My goal was to purchase a sari for my room (which will be Indian-themed, I think), but I simply couldn't do it. I felt uncomfortable enoug walking down the street, as I quickly noticed I was in the minority--a middle-cass European male. I felt like I had stepped into some forbidden world--even though no one said anything to me, nor did I receive any raised eyebrows or disheartening looks, I felt guilty for having an interest in their culture. I don't know. Needless to say, I didn't purchase a sari, but I did see some beautiful fabric, delicious-looking food, and a dead body being wheeled away by some funeral directors in an alley. I will hopefully get over this, and be able to go back soon.

And now, a brief American Idol commentary--because I'm watching that right now (wireless Internet what?)--Clay Aiken has a great voice for musical theatre, and I'm sure if he doesn't win, he'll get a great contract on Broadway or something. Rufus (? I don't know his name) is alright--he just sweats a lot, and that makes me uncomfortable as an audience member because I'm worried about his health. Kimberley, as I watch her right now, has a great voice--if she's trying to bring back Aretha-style soul. I don't know who will win, nor do I care. (That doesn't mean I'm not going to watch the final show next week, but...)

Must eat food!

We Have Achieved DSL

In a process that was more problematic and involved more squabbling than necessary, Theo and I set up the apartment's DSL today, and the superfluously-complex wireless network. I'm pretty pleased with it, myself.

I hadn't kissed my mother on the lips in years--but yesterday, it just sort of happened. Oedipus comments aside, I'd have to say that my mother and I share a unique relationship. She's become more and more of a friend over the past year or so. I still have some work to do with my father, but hey, one out of two ain't bad. M-day was uneventful--big dinner with grandparents, etc. She's found a new job, actually--she'll be working with a group of doctors doing the same thing she's done for the past 20+ years. The good thing about the privatisation of the situation is that she's going to be able to pick out all of her new instruments, choose with whom she works, and doesn't have to worry about all the things one worries abou when working for a huge corporation. Let's face it--doctors don't go out of business.

Speaking of jobs, I work at the Broadway/Belmont Gap this week, on Thursday and Friday. I'm sort of scared, but I think I'll be alright. There are just so many new policies...most of which I cannot discuss because of our confidentiality agreement. I will say this: "we" are trying to establish a trademark. I don't think it's working so far, but if any of you think you know what it is, comment.

I've now seen all of Christopher Guest's films, enjoying each one.

I'm on a big Nina Simone kick--after TMLMTBGB did a play commemmorating her, and then after watching some of the horrid Bridget Fonda film Point of No Return, in which Simone plays a key role, I've grown to love her voice and music. Her earlier work was great--so controvertial ("Mississippi Goddamn") and jazzier than her later work, with the doo-wop backup singers and all. She was a great musician. It's only a shame I've discovered her so late in the game.

I'm reading Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman right now--it's a book about the love of books, in comical essay format (my favourite). I really like her style, and I can see myself in a lot of the things she writes about. Next up--Salman Rushdie's Fury.

Oh, and Loyola has given me a jaw-droppingly massive financial aid package. My mother actually called me crying, she was so happy. So, that eases a lot of tension in our family. So, all is good, for now.

(Untitled)

My day was blessed with a call from a woman at the Gap corporation. After my interview on Friday went well, she offered me a position at the Broadway and Belmont store. She also offered me a raise in pay--almost $1.00 more than I was making at Spring Hill. So, I was excited, and hoping to make some more money by selling my textbooks back at Loyola. But, instead, I left mortified--I paid over $400 for these books (two Jewel bags full), and received a paltry $31.00 for them. So, it's been a mixed day, in retrospect.

Nothing much has happened in the past week. The Billy Joel/Elton John concert was sublime. I've always been a meek Elton John fan, and I never was really familiar with Joel's work. But there were times during the four hour-long spectacle that I thought, "I'm witnessing history here." I doubt I'll ever see a better concert again, and I know I'll never have seats that great--we were probably forty feet away from John's turquoise sequined suitcoat (at the All-State Arena, that's quite an accomplishment). I'm quite thankful that things worked out the way they did.

Zoe, Theo and I saw TMLMTBGB on Friday night. Zoe and Theo got along surprisingly well--I was impressed. I, being the klutz that I am, spilled nearly an entire pitcher of water everywhere when fetching a glass for the three of us. Fortunately, Jay, the Neo-Futurist I have an insatiable crush on, came over and told me he'd done the same thing the week prior. My nametag? "Water Boy." Ack--cannot go back for at least three months.

I was hoping to begin painting this week, but I don't want to buy the paint supplies we already have at my house. So, I'll probably wait until next week, and balance my painting and working. The apartment, by the way, is great. With over 1300 square feet, I sometimes get lost here.

I have to figure out what I'm getting my mother for Sunday, and my father for his birthday on the 15th. Well, my food is ready--chicken with baby artichokes. I'll probably post again when I have DSL (Friday).