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mood |
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music |
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The Dixie Chicks "The Long Way Around" |
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Y'all,
Mmmmm, the past month and a half. How shall I describe the cesspool? A lot of work, paper writing, tripping to St. Louis with DI folk, hanging with Jessica, Kiki, and Lauren, and napping. Not really as cesspool-tastic as I made it out to be, but the whole thing certainly feels like a blur now, anyway.
And here I am at the tail end of Thanksgiving break, fresh off a Black Friday shopping spree where Lauren and I tamed some formidable beasts (Express, H&M, among other dragons), and now I'm finding some time for DJ action. Way cute.
Couple days ago, I dropped by The Chicago Sun Times to meet up with Hedy Weiss, the paper's theatre critic. She read an article of mine I sent her over e-mail, said it was "very well written," and there we were shooting the shit about newspaper journalism a few days later. Unfortunately there are no internships at the fucking Sun Times, but the Southtown should have some openings. And I'm sorry, those bitches can't stand to not have me. I'm their fucking daddy.
Hedy went on to bemoan the dire future of newspaper jorunalism, saying I better take classes in television or radio news also, just in case. Alright, I cannot picture the Sun Times collapsing within like, ten years, so I don't quite see what's so imminent about all this. But maybe I'm in the dark. Hedy gave me some good pointers, but I have to say, her caution about the news industry was sobering. And frankly, discouraging. She all but recommended I go into advertising. And take design classes. Sweet fucking fuck that.
Also since I've been home -- I arranged with Brent, this guy I met at Devin's graduation party, to meet up sometime early tomorrow. I'm way excited, I think Brent's super-smart, nice, and, yes, cute. Not saying this is going to be a hook-up venture, but I will say it'll be a hangout with a fucking smart dude, so that's all I need to be amped. He's driving into Lemont from like, O'Hare Airport, so we'll see if he fucking makes it in alive. Surely the butter-garlic fries he'll have in Lemont will kill him anyway.
I took full advantage of the urge in my body called "CRAZY" the other day when I ambushed supposed former homosexual Joe at his workplace, and I said verbatim, "I want to extend an olive branch." He replied, "I don't know what that means." We're talking kickass communication here. He was all, "I'll consider talking things out -- I have a situation to deal with if that's going to happen" or something to that effect. Which could means he's dating someone -- to which I say, fucking good for him, I hope it's a guy. I just want to be able to reflect on my coming-out story and not have to quell anger every time Joe's name comes up. He likely won't call me back because calling would force him to share control, and we all know how that goes with sociopaths. Anyway, I figured it was worth a try. Even though if my mom found out I did this, she'd probably roll her eyes right up to Canada. Really, I don't find seeking some peace here all that crazy -- in the past year, I've subscribed to a new mantra, which is, "Do what you have to do." And this is what I had to do. Or try to do.
Speaking of all things gay, I just passed my three-year coming-out anniversary. You can put away the balloons, streamers, and tech vests. It's nothing I really celebrate, but as each year goes by, I'm happier that November 22nd, 2003, is further and further away. For the most part, I'm loving being gay in 2006, and I'm loving being Louis even more. I'm loving meeting more and more people who don't flinch at gayness. And with the recent Democratic House-and-Senate takeover, maybe we're heading in a less asshole-ish direction. Pardon me, Texas, I'm sure you have nice people somewhere in you.
Alright, and may I wax poetic about my beloved Dixie Chicks? Somehow I've amassed all their albums, and it's still not quite enough for me. Those babes are talented as hell, gorgeous, heartfelt, and (whether you're liberal or conservative) it's hard to deny their music is some of the best post-millennial work around. I play "The Long Way Around," "Not Ready to Make Nice," "Favorite Year," "Cowboy Take Me Away," "Wide Open Spaces," "Lubbock or Leave It" (HILARIOUS title), and "Long Time Gone" on repeat. With regards to the exhausted Bush-comment controversy, I do think the Chicks are a little over-the-top about the importance of the scandal since Natalie Maines' actual comment was pretty unassuming -- but also, the responsibility of dissecting the media frenzy was thrust upon them. I don't blame them for dwelling, not only because of the death threats they received (way to support freedom of speech, fucking dumbass Southerners), but because it's all anyone seems to ask them about. Also, I'm crushing on Emily Robison. She's beautiful in the way Addison Shepherd on Grey's Anatomy is beautiful. Don't even ask how I ended up watching twenty-some episodes of Grey's; I found myself with a second-season DVD set from a friend and couldn't help myself. The show's totally dumb and even more totally addictive. And also don't ask why Izzy isn't in jail after TRYING TO KILL HER LOVER PATIENT -- prettiness takes precedence over logic, sometimes, guys. Take a legalities class, you'll see.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving. We only had my cousin Tyler and his family over, and guess what, it was one of the nicest Thanksgivings in years. Far fewer kids and many more people to backtalk. Clearly we exemplified the importance of the holiday -- we didn't get around to Indian slaying, but there's always pep rallies at LHS. So I'm not worried. I got to thinking late last night about mushy sentimental things -- what I'm thankful for and all that. It's a basic list, but here's what I could come up with:
-For family. For their loving (and financial) support, their humor, intelligence, commitment to togetherness. It's all love and dwindling Catholicism up in the Virtel home -- a winning combination.
-For my old friends. From Elyse to Sarah to Rachel to Kimmie to Corey to Alyssa (who I haven't seen since August, that world-traveling twat) to everyone. For knowing me inside and out, allowing me to know them inside and out, and excitedly reconvening with me when our much-needed breaks arrive. For so openly loving. For so openly shopping with me.
-For my new(er) friends. Andy Phillips, my most happening gay hombre, Kiki, my prime cohort in gets-it, Lauren, my prime cohort in Panera consumption and oh, most everything (how have we only been friends for like, a year and some?), and my DI newsroom buds. Especially Meghan, who is so funny, so observant, and so unafraid to be upfront. And in terms of recently befriended friends, I'm so thankful for my RA buddies -- particularly Jessica. Jessica exceeds every expectation I ever had for friendship -- I'm thankful for her hospitality, her Nintendo, her up-for-whatever-ness, her crazy, her owning-her-crazy, her candor, and her supreme understanding of people. And her impeccable fashion sense that reflects my own! Here's to being on brother-sister floors next year. And slaying duty rounds with our hard-nosed RA work ethics. And to bitching about our residents.
-For the opportunity to write and have people read it. In the DI, here, in classes, whatever.
-For me-time that I use effectively. Because sometimes I'm just melting on Facebook.
-For jobs that I love. And my residents that I love.
-For humor. Always.
-For encouragement.
-For perseverence.
-For those who listen -- and those who grant me the chance to listen.
-For living a busy life.
-For the University of Iowa -- a place that, within the past few months, I've come to finally really love.
-For new jeans every so often.
-For you. Thanks for reading.
And sigh. I guess that's all for now. Only three more weeks until Christmas break, and then the REAL boredom can begin. Thanks again for reading along, and until we next meet, I encourage you to be open and critical and understanding. Peace, my hoes.
"If you ever want to find me, I can still be found
Taking the long way around."
Big, big, exclusive love to you, xoxo,
Louis
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