Too tired to really write about this.
As if this week couldn't get any worse...
A record of the life and times of one brown shirt-wearing university student, struggling to escape his fear of intimacy, overcome his hunger for eternal supremacy in every aspect, and never have to write a description of his life like this again.
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
Guest Appearances
I figured that, since I've found myself running into characters of my past today, I should post, to perhaps remedy this strange phenomenon. I saw Tish and her mannish sidekick today, two women who directed several shows I was in. Curtis, an old friend/stalker, was sitting in Roscoe's (at 6:00PM, no less) talking it up with a few fellows. Lastly, Michelle Andriano (a CTE alum) was standing in the check-out line one person behind me today at Jewel. Fortunately, my hair acted as a mask and none of these people recognized me, or at least, did not stop and strike up a conversation. Who next? My old babysitter? My choir teacher?
Speaking of...and I will get to the connection shortly...how is homosexuality still something that people frown upon? In this open-minded era, where 400,000 people attend a gay-themed parade in Chicago, "Will and Grace" is a popular sitcom, and the majority of the Supreme Court thinks gays should be entitled to privacy just like anyone else, why do some people still think that we're degenerative, sick fucks? Since I've moved to Chicago (home of the nation's largest gay population, many sources believe), I've been severely harassed twice, the most recent while waiting for the El. Not a month goes by that I don't hear "fag" or "homo" or some other slur shouted from a passing car. And, I've recently learned that my choir teacher found it appropriate to pass along second-hand information she received while working at Jacobs about me and my sexuality to her daughter, someone I used to feign friendship with. We may have been closer had she not made it her duty to inform me, at least once every time we gathered, that she thought homosexuality was disgusting and horrible. Allegedly, she asked Lauren, our mutual friend, "So, is Brian STILL gay?" Yes, that's the same tone one would use when asking, "So, is Madonna still into Judaism?" Like this is a phase or something.
I just wish I could avoid my past more successfully. The memories of people and events that have displeased me over the years have, for the most part, been dumped into a garbage bag and placed in the nether-regions of my brain. But I don't have much power over keeping the real people my memories represent from making guest appearances in my life.
I figured that, since I've found myself running into characters of my past today, I should post, to perhaps remedy this strange phenomenon. I saw Tish and her mannish sidekick today, two women who directed several shows I was in. Curtis, an old friend/stalker, was sitting in Roscoe's (at 6:00PM, no less) talking it up with a few fellows. Lastly, Michelle Andriano (a CTE alum) was standing in the check-out line one person behind me today at Jewel. Fortunately, my hair acted as a mask and none of these people recognized me, or at least, did not stop and strike up a conversation. Who next? My old babysitter? My choir teacher?
Speaking of...and I will get to the connection shortly...how is homosexuality still something that people frown upon? In this open-minded era, where 400,000 people attend a gay-themed parade in Chicago, "Will and Grace" is a popular sitcom, and the majority of the Supreme Court thinks gays should be entitled to privacy just like anyone else, why do some people still think that we're degenerative, sick fucks? Since I've moved to Chicago (home of the nation's largest gay population, many sources believe), I've been severely harassed twice, the most recent while waiting for the El. Not a month goes by that I don't hear "fag" or "homo" or some other slur shouted from a passing car. And, I've recently learned that my choir teacher found it appropriate to pass along second-hand information she received while working at Jacobs about me and my sexuality to her daughter, someone I used to feign friendship with. We may have been closer had she not made it her duty to inform me, at least once every time we gathered, that she thought homosexuality was disgusting and horrible. Allegedly, she asked Lauren, our mutual friend, "So, is Brian STILL gay?" Yes, that's the same tone one would use when asking, "So, is Madonna still into Judaism?" Like this is a phase or something.
I just wish I could avoid my past more successfully. The memories of people and events that have displeased me over the years have, for the most part, been dumped into a garbage bag and placed in the nether-regions of my brain. But I don't have much power over keeping the real people my memories represent from making guest appearances in my life.
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Thursday, July 10, 2003
Uncharted Landmasses
I'm simply not ready. Ready to deal with things I never thought I'd have to face--at least not now, at this under-developed phase in my life. But, I suppose since I've made it a point to "grow up" quickly, what with getting an apartment in a metropolitan city, living with my boyfriend, and striving to gain a sense of the word "independence," I have no choice but to travel to the less glamourous continents of my new world.
I'm simply not ready. Ready to deal with things I never thought I'd have to face--at least not now, at this under-developed phase in my life. But, I suppose since I've made it a point to "grow up" quickly, what with getting an apartment in a metropolitan city, living with my boyfriend, and striving to gain a sense of the word "independence," I have no choice but to travel to the less glamourous continents of my new world.
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
When will we finally change?
I was enjoying today's Tribune when I came across Eric Zorn's column today, entitled "Media failed on porch alert, past accidents." He included a quotation from NSC president Alan McMillan, as follows:
"It seems to be a natural tendency to wait for tragedy to provide the catalyst for change."
He, of course, was referring to the possibility of laws dictating porch capacities attached Chicago's six-flat apartment buildings, and went so far (which I found interesting) to include similar laws passed regarding the use of pepper spray indoors (the E2 disaster, February 2003) and the stringent indoor-pyrotechnic policies now in effect (the Rhode Island concert venue fire, also February 2003).
One could go so far as to say that until September 11, National Security was not a common term found in the media. But in its aftermath, amid the dust and death came decrees for tighter security in our nation. It was only after such a "tragedy" that we saw how vulnerable we were to outside forces, regardless of social stati or occupations.
We as humans, and especially Americans, have a natural propensity to approach everything with a naive, carefree attitude. "So what if I smoke?" "I'm just a social drinker." "Who cares about that friend?" "I really needed a new pair of Prada loafers."
It's not until our grandfather is in the hospital dying of emphysema, or our sister has checked into a drug abuse clinic, or we suddenly need the things that friend we were so swift to dismiss was able to offer, or we lose our job and have to enroll in Welfare just to feed ourselves, do we finally wise up to our shortcomings.
Is it ignorance? Do we honestly believe that bad things really don't happen to (sort-of) good people? Is it comfort? Do we use these habits as blankets, to shield us from the cold din of reality? Is it faith? Do we believe that something above us will protect us from the consequences of our actions?
Or, is it pride? Do we not want to shame ourselves and allow our own worst critics, ourselves, to see how we've been wrong? After all, if we don't have these laws, these committees, these limitations in our lives, it's easier to forget about the "bad things"--the very reasons we have such restrictions.
And, of course, it's easier to prescribe Change than to actually swallow the pill. But, if we observe our vulnerabilities before they're taken advantage of, perhaps we'd have less disasters, less deaths, less unhappiness.
I was enjoying today's Tribune when I came across Eric Zorn's column today, entitled "Media failed on porch alert, past accidents." He included a quotation from NSC president Alan McMillan, as follows:
"It seems to be a natural tendency to wait for tragedy to provide the catalyst for change."
He, of course, was referring to the possibility of laws dictating porch capacities attached Chicago's six-flat apartment buildings, and went so far (which I found interesting) to include similar laws passed regarding the use of pepper spray indoors (the E2 disaster, February 2003) and the stringent indoor-pyrotechnic policies now in effect (the Rhode Island concert venue fire, also February 2003).
One could go so far as to say that until September 11, National Security was not a common term found in the media. But in its aftermath, amid the dust and death came decrees for tighter security in our nation. It was only after such a "tragedy" that we saw how vulnerable we were to outside forces, regardless of social stati or occupations.
We as humans, and especially Americans, have a natural propensity to approach everything with a naive, carefree attitude. "So what if I smoke?" "I'm just a social drinker." "Who cares about that friend?" "I really needed a new pair of Prada loafers."
It's not until our grandfather is in the hospital dying of emphysema, or our sister has checked into a drug abuse clinic, or we suddenly need the things that friend we were so swift to dismiss was able to offer, or we lose our job and have to enroll in Welfare just to feed ourselves, do we finally wise up to our shortcomings.
Is it ignorance? Do we honestly believe that bad things really don't happen to (sort-of) good people? Is it comfort? Do we use these habits as blankets, to shield us from the cold din of reality? Is it faith? Do we believe that something above us will protect us from the consequences of our actions?
Or, is it pride? Do we not want to shame ourselves and allow our own worst critics, ourselves, to see how we've been wrong? After all, if we don't have these laws, these committees, these limitations in our lives, it's easier to forget about the "bad things"--the very reasons we have such restrictions.
And, of course, it's easier to prescribe Change than to actually swallow the pill. But, if we observe our vulnerabilities before they're taken advantage of, perhaps we'd have less disasters, less deaths, less unhappiness.
Little Bad Big Good
Normally, I would take this moment to write about is currently irking me, but I'll try to avoid it this time, in observance of a no-Blogging treaty I struck up with someone some time ago. All I'll say is the following: It is true that some friends cannot be roommates, and some friends cannot be...well, friends. I handled situations of months past to the best of my ability, given resources and the situation. The advice that I distributed of late was requested in an E-mail that was clearly not searching for a "yes or no" answer, but rather, a stream of outside thoughts on the matter. I advised when advice was requested (which, in this case, came both directly and implied). To conclude, one shouldn't ask his enemy for advice, especially when the request arrives on a breeze of baptismal amnesty (clearly I mistook this change in weather patterns). That's what friends are for.
I've decided...I feel like I start practically every entry with those words. How many times do I honestly follow through on these decisions? Well, anyways. I've decided to find a new job--something more challenging, something I can respect myself for doing after I clock out, something that might actually be useful and contribute to my occupational future.
This decision comes from two things: one, the fact that I loathe Gap. When I punch my social security number into that time-clock day in and day out, I can feel my dignity osmotically leave my fingertips. I say such foolish and brainless things; I do such tedious and rudimentary things; I think such horrible and sinister things. I can no longer continue like this. I have worked for this company for almost two years. While I have traveled in one direction, Gap has traveled in yet another.
The second motivator(s) involved in this quest for occupational harmony are these fine people. These twelve (now thirteen) men and women were "all on the cusp of something," and after reviewing their accomplishments and future plans, I decided it was time for me to begin sowing the seeds of my future.
I'm not sure where I'll begin. I know I'll have to sacrifice many of my future plans--auditioning for Loyola's fall musical, slacking off in school, dedicating countless hours to interior decorating--to sketch a rough outline of my days, months, and years ahead.
Well, I'm off to start that now, by eating a sandwich and reading some Newsweek.
Normally, I would take this moment to write about is currently irking me, but I'll try to avoid it this time, in observance of a no-Blogging treaty I struck up with someone some time ago. All I'll say is the following: It is true that some friends cannot be roommates, and some friends cannot be...well, friends. I handled situations of months past to the best of my ability, given resources and the situation. The advice that I distributed of late was requested in an E-mail that was clearly not searching for a "yes or no" answer, but rather, a stream of outside thoughts on the matter. I advised when advice was requested (which, in this case, came both directly and implied). To conclude, one shouldn't ask his enemy for advice, especially when the request arrives on a breeze of baptismal amnesty (clearly I mistook this change in weather patterns). That's what friends are for.
I've decided...I feel like I start practically every entry with those words. How many times do I honestly follow through on these decisions? Well, anyways. I've decided to find a new job--something more challenging, something I can respect myself for doing after I clock out, something that might actually be useful and contribute to my occupational future.
This decision comes from two things: one, the fact that I loathe Gap. When I punch my social security number into that time-clock day in and day out, I can feel my dignity osmotically leave my fingertips. I say such foolish and brainless things; I do such tedious and rudimentary things; I think such horrible and sinister things. I can no longer continue like this. I have worked for this company for almost two years. While I have traveled in one direction, Gap has traveled in yet another.
The second motivator(s) involved in this quest for occupational harmony are these fine people. These twelve (now thirteen) men and women were "all on the cusp of something," and after reviewing their accomplishments and future plans, I decided it was time for me to begin sowing the seeds of my future.
I'm not sure where I'll begin. I know I'll have to sacrifice many of my future plans--auditioning for Loyola's fall musical, slacking off in school, dedicating countless hours to interior decorating--to sketch a rough outline of my days, months, and years ahead.
Well, I'm off to start that now, by eating a sandwich and reading some Newsweek.