Glyphs

I have things to say, so many things. This past week I have thought of so many things to say here, so many things to write on postcards and mail to Frank at PostSecret, so many thank you notes and emails to compose to so many people. Sometimes there's something like a stirring in my...mind? heart? pituitary gland?...that makes me want to write. I've forgotten many of these writing impulses as the days have rushed on by, most of them probably lost to the ether. But maybe I'll remember some of them as I type this.

***

I won a scholarship from my school this week. I got the email while I was in the frozen foods aisle of the grocery store at 5 pm Friday evening in my sweaty gym clothes. I was so excited that I punched a Boca burger in the face. It feels nice to earn some money for the first time in about eight months.

***

I like being normal. I aspire to normality. Not in the average, plain, or nondescript sense, but in the mainstream, natural, balanced sense. (Yes, I used a thesaurus for this. Go ahead and judge me.) Someone recently tried to make me feel very abnormal. This person used words as weapons against me and tried to make me feel that, because of my sexual orientation, I am bad, evil, deviant, less-than, other. This person tried to make me feel extremely abnormal.

It did not work.

I'm a confident guy. This is helpful in job interviews, class presentations and when driving. This is a detriment when playing football, buying used cars, or pretending that I know what someone is talking about when I really have no idea. In this particular confrontation, my confidence served me well.

But this whole episode really made me reflect on the experience of others, other people who are different, people who have more trouble fitting in and feeling normal that I do. Made me reflect on the ways that people harm and destroy each other. Thank God, there's been such a big movement lately towards affirmation and honesty and protecting vulnerable people from bullies, intimidation, and discrimination. Organizations like the It Gets Better Project are making a huge difference, media are recognizing the stories of gay and lesbian youngsters and the difficulties that they face at home, at school, and at church. Hate speech is being called out, and groups that actively work to undermine equal rights and enshrine their own narrow ideas of faith, family, and freedom are being exposed for the hacks that they are.

I wonder, though, what an incident like this would have done to me in an earlier, more vulnerable time in my life. We've seen so many stories over the last few months of kids who commit suicide because of peer and internet bullying, because of family pressures and hateful words. Kids kill themselves because of other people's words. I see kids at school every day who have been wounded by words and actions, by their family dysfunctions, by their parents and family members and teachers and classmates and community. I want to protect them, I want to help them rise above and achieve because of and regardless of these hurdles. This is part of my calling.

Thank you, person who tried to hurt me, for reaffirming this for me and helping to strengthen my resolve.

***

It is 70 degrees here. Every day. Why doesn't everyone live here? This not-living-here, this is a form of madness.

***

In terms of frequency and magnitude, I may be having more fun at this time in my life than ever before. My friends here - mostly my classmates and their significant others - are the most remarkable group. They make every class day, every weekend, every event and gathering a riot.

We have crazy fun, and thankfully most of the picture proof on Facebook is locked away behind "Friends Only" barriers. Our first professor this past summer, our technology teacher, warned us about this.

***

I've noticed a law of diminishing returns in regards to my dating life here in Phoenix. Which is to say, every guy I go out with is a bigger bum than the last.

No, not really a bum. Just not for me. Actually this last guy that I saw for a couple of dates, I came to the conclusion that we actually had too much in common. All the things that I usually say on a date, the things that are supposed to make me unique and memorable, he said them. We have all this geography and perspective and academic history in common, and it just weirds me out. We even kind of look a bit alike. Maybe I'm expected to be into that, you know, since homosexuality is really just a narcissistic personality disorder, but I'm not.

***

I miss this one TV show (as in yearn for and feel sentimental feelings towards, not as in fail to watch) like pretty much every Sunday night. That's a fairly embarrassing thing to admit all in its own right, so I'm not going to do myself the further embarrassment of telling you what cringe-worthy show it actually is. Suffice it to say that it no longer comes on, and that I wish it did. It had really interesting, complex characters and outlandish soap operatic plotlines. I was a big, fat fanboy.

But when I think about it, I guess I'm not really missing the show as much as I am missing a specific time in my life. I was much younger, I was in the midst of my first really fulfilling and enjoyable job experience, I was living on my own and managing to have a pretty cool little Chattanooga futon-in-my-apartment life. It was all very just-barely post-collegiate and innocent. It was a very good time in my life, and I shared it with some fictional TV friends.

***

Oh, but this is a very good time in my life too, and I'm sharing it with some extraordinarily sweet, hilarious real-life friends.

Here are a few of those people, and a few of those photos that you maybe can't see on Facebook.

Thanks to Liza, Kati, Michelle, and Roxi for the photos.

Currently Listening to

The King is Dead by the Decemberists and

Last Night I Watched

The Town with Ben Affleck and it was phenomenally good.

Year in Music, 2010 - Part II

My other musical obsession this year, and my pick for best album of the year, was Miranda Lambert's Revolution. My computer, my mp3 player, and probably my roommate can all attest to the fact that this record never got much of a rest, that I kept going back to it again and again, sometimes just listening to it multiple times in a row. If country is the new pop, I really think that Miranda Lambert's dirtier, grittier, catchier, more honest version of country is the new rock. I love the way that she can be the Southern trailer park princess who sings to her prissy rival, "I don't have to be hateful / I can just say 'Bless your heart' ... We're just like you / only prettier," and just as easily slip into a soft love song like "Makin' Plans" or rock out on John Prine's hilariously absurd "That's the Way that the World Goes 'Round." Miranda Lambert is fantastic, the kind of tough, scrappy girl that you want on your side in a bar fight, with the kind of uniquely wonderful and versatile voice that you would want singing at both your wedding and your wake.

Other albums that I really enjoyed this year included:

Arcade Fire's The Suburbs

The National's High Violet

MGMT's Oracular Spectacular

Dierks Bentley's Feel That Fire

The Soundtrack from 500 Days of Summer

A Fine Frenzy's One Cell in the Sea

fun.'s Aim and Ignite

Vampire Weekend's Contra

David Bazan's Curse Your Branches

Besides the most excellent Sufjan Stevens concert, I got to see a few other cool shows and acts this year: The Weepies were a huge highlight at a small, intimate Phoenix venue called Rhythm Room, Tim McGraw and Lady Antebellum were great together earlier this summer out in Glendale, and seeing the musical version of Billy Elliot on stage just before I left Chicago was awesome.

And of course, how wildly remiss I would be if I didn't give a big time hat tip to Glee for making my year extra-specially musical. I've listened to many of the songs from the first season repeatedly this year, and the Finn and Rachel duets of "Faithfully" from the season finale and "Borderline/Open Your Heart" from the Madonna episode are probably my favorite stand-alone songs of the year. I haven't found the songs from season 2 to be quite as catchy, memorable, or worthy of my attention, but hopefully that's just a little sophomore slump.

Currently Listening to

Carlos Baute & Marta Sanchez, "Colgando en tus Manos"

Year in Music, 2010 - Part I

2010 was a great music year for me, one of the best that I can remember. That primarily has to do with Sufjan Stevens.

Seeing him in concert here in Phoenix back in October was one of the highlights of my year. I snatched up some prime sixth row seats during the pre-sale back in August and then spent the next two months eagerly anticipating my first Sufjan live show. It did not disappoint. It really was a most transcendent concert experience.

Sufjan released two albums this year, both consuming a great part of the second half of my musical year: the All Delighted People EP was a surprise August release and his full-length Royal Robertson-inspired concept album about love, art, and the apocalypse The Age of Adz came out in October. I also spent a great deal of time earlier in the year listening to Michigan and Seven Swans. And of course, now that it is holiday time, Songs for Christmas is in heavy rotation in my media player.

My year in music belongs to Sufjan Stevens. He is a provocative, challenging, intellectual artist; his lyrics and melodies prod, enlighten, and inspire.

Now turn off all of your lights and watch this video in HD full screen.

Too Much from Asthmatic Kitty on Vimeo.

Currently Listening to

"Impossible Soul" by Sufjan Stevens

It's a long life, better pinch yourself
Get your face together, better roll along
It's a long life, better pinch yourself
Put your face together, better stand up straight
It's a long life only one last chance
Couldn't get much better, do you wanna dance?
It's a good life, better pinch yourself
Is it impossible? Is it impossible?
Boy, we can do much more together
(Better get it right, get it right, get it right, get it right)
Boy, we can do much more together
(Better get a life, get a life, get a life, get a life)

Boy we can do much more together, it's not so impossible
It's not so impossible

It's a long life, better pinch yourself
Put your face together, better get it right
It's a long life, better hit yourself
Put your face together, better stand up straight
In the wrong life, everything is chance
Does it register? Do you wanna dance?
In the right life, it's a miracle
Possibility, do you wanna dance?

小摩托車

One night during my life in Asia I was heading home from a night market after getting some dinner or doing a little shopping, maybe meeting up with a friend or two, I don't remember exactly. But I was on my way back to the apartment, driving my scooter, waiting at a stoplight, and a guy pulled up beside me on the tiniest little red motorcycle that I had ever seen. And then the light changed, and he drove away. He drove away really quickly too. Like his tiny little ridiculous motorcycle had way more juice than my 150 horsepower Yamaha bike. It was one the best, funniest, most random moments of my life, but I had forgotten about it until tonight.

Tonight, when I was watching one of those old Jackass movies and there was a setup where a bunch of those guys drove these tiny motorcycles all over a grocery store and were wiping out and startling customers and crashing into shelves and each other.

Such a fun memory. Thanks, jackasses.

Currently Listening to

All the Roadrunning by Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris

Italic

I remember a time when I used to come to this blog to write sad things.

No wait, let me go further back. Farther back? Let me go back.

I remember a time when I used to not feel much. I was a pretty numb person. A guy in the midst of a life defined, perhaps, shall we say, by a general malaise. Which is to not say much at all except that there wasn't much to say. It was a life, and it was fairly empty. A dusty, neglected attic sort of life.

And then I awoke, and I found joy, beauty, love, happiness - those sorts of things. And life was good and exciting and contained some wonder and purpose. I sought and I found. I worked and I tried; I laughed and I felt. I felt so much for a while there.

And then I hit a rough patch and fell under the spell of one wicked witch who, in the fairy tale version of my existence, would be named - and not with even a touch of subtlety - Madame Inertia.

I lived under the enchantment of this femme terrible for no less than three years. And good things happened during this three years, don't get me wrong. I made friends that I madly cherish, friends whose faces are beaming at me from photos in frames just above the desk where I now type. Friends that I can't wait to see again; soon, please soon. And I lived and saw things and worked and tried and learned then too.

I'm tempted to say some harsher things, to use words like wasted and lost and defeated.

But the funny thing is that you can't really regret, can you? You can't really say, oh, I should have done this sooner, I should have moved and not wasted so much time. I should have chosen a different school for my undergrad or not stayed in Chicago so long. No. Because then this wouldn't be this, would it? This would be different - people, situation, city, who knows? - and not at all this. This is bringing me such joy and contentment, but it couldn't be if anything in my life - anything at all - had been any different.

***

I think I lost my main point there. They are a windy path tonight, my thoughts. But here's what I was getting at:

I am so happy.

My life is so blessed.

I made the right choice, at the right time.

These people in my life here, I love them so much.

I know that I am doing exactly what I should be doing, and what I want to be doing.

It is weird, actually. Times are difficult. September has been a very hard month in lots of ways. I had this day a couple of weeks ago, and let's just say that it would make a fantastic Steve Martin comedy. I'm not going for hyperbole here; it was the worst day of my life. Think Planes, Trains, and Automobiles or whatever is your least favorite, most painful one of his movies. They are all pretty awful, so good luck narrowing it down to one.

But truly, life is so fundamentally good. I can't stop wondering how I fumbled into this good fortune. Joy. Here are some of the reasons why this is so: constantsunshinefriendsCulver'sfrozencustardteachingmathmusicnoveltynodramapossibilityopportunity

thefuturelayssparklingahead. I'm so thankful for all of these. I'm blessed a quintillion miles beyond anything that I deserve.

Currently Listening to

Dierks Bentley Feel That Fire

Sentimentality

This is a photo by Eric Ogden. It is beautiful. I don't own it. He does. Please don't sue me.

Shortly after moving to Arizona I found myself struggling to eat breakfast. I don't know if it was the time shift, the climate, nerves, or what, but I just had no appetite in the morning, couldn't choke anything down. A few half-eaten bowls of Frosted Mini Wheats later, I gave in to my body. Some days I'll eat a granola bar or a single donut (!!) or a very small bowl of cereal, but sometimes it is just a glass of orange juice.

Yesterday I bought two enormous boxes of cereal at Safeway: one box of Lucky Charms and one of Cap'n Crunch. My thought is that maybe I can trick my body into responding to these sentimental cereals of childhood. Our lunch break at school is less than 30 minutes, and I get so hungry by the end of the day that I overeat for dinner and am getting skinny-fat. Skinny-fat is, like, the worst. Well, maybe not worse than morbidly obese, but certainly worse than plain old skinny or plain old fat.

*************************************************

Have I said this before? I can't remember. American flags look so beautiful, so majestic here in the desert. I dare say that nowhere in the United States does our flag look so magnificent flying overhead. I live not far from a bunch of car dealerships - patriotic lot that is - so I get to see these enormous flags flying and flowing and stirring the heart in the warm desert winds a couple of times a week. It gets me every time.

*************************************************

School is going well. I am in an eighth grade math classroom at a nice suburban (but still Title I) school three days a week. So far the pattern has been that I observe and assist two days and teach one of those days every week. The kids are a pretty good lot, but they are a little older and more attitudinal than my preferred student age. Then on Tuesdays and Fridays I have grad school classes all day. I really adore my classmates, and we have a great time learning and sharing life together.

Also I am working on a case study of an English Language Learner (ELL) student for one of our grad school classes, so I have a little 5th grade buddy that we'll call Rob. His mom doesn't speak any English; therefore his family speaks only Spanish at home for her sake and Rob is reading proficiently on a 2nd grade level. But he loves dinosaurs and Goosebumps books and video games and we are going to become great friends. I'm not his teacher, so we can be friends, you know.

**********************************************

I think it is fair to say that this is the least tan I have been in a solid decade. Bleh.

**********************************************

I'm really excited for the fall concert season here in Phoenix. I've got tickets to see Sufjan Stevens in October, The Weepies in November, and really want to get tickets to see Jack Johnson in October too.

I remember the first time I went to Vancouver, back in October of 2002, I went to an in-store mini-concert and album signing with Jack Johnson at that Virgin Megastore on the corner of Robson and Burrard. We lined up outside for an hour beforehand and then filed calmly and orderly into the store at the appointed time. We sat criss-cross applesauce on the floor at the feet of our surfer/rocker/bard while he played "Bubbly Toes" on his acoustic guitar and sang. It was his first album, and he'd only had like two songs on the radio, but I knew that I really liked his vibe. That's a nice memory.

**********************************************

The other day I had this moment where my thoughts flashed to the Logan Square Blue Line train stop, this ridiculously, unnecessarily long, mysteriously puddled but well-lit underground transit stop back in Chicago. It made me miss my former life, but only for a moment. Because then I realized that the only time I was ever at the Logan Square Blue Line train stop was when I was going to O'Hare airport to take a trip somewhere. So basically I was missing leaving Chicago. Which is a pretty strange thing to feel sentimental about.

Currently Listening to:

A Sun Came by Sufjan Stevens

I'm basically obsessed with him at the moment.

Kukelchoo

It is my birthday! I'm not a big fan of my birthday. It's been kind of over-done, I think.

As a kid, my birthday was sometimes celebrated during family vacations to the beach with my grandparents and extended family. A couple of times it was celebrated at my grandparents' house in Ohio or my granddaddy's house in Mississippi. I remember a few childhood birthday parties: themes in variations of dinosaurs, Star Wars, Batman. My parents had this record that they used to play on the Inter-Com system at our house. "Hey David, It's your birthday. I'm in charge of the stars, and I'm here to say - Hey David, you're the big star today!" Thanks for the enduring melody, Captain Zoom.

In 1999, between my sophomore and junior years of college, my Grandpa died in early August, just a few days before my birthday. My Aunt Debbie used my twentieth birthday as an outlet for her grief and mourning energies; she insisted that my birthday not be forgotten, so we celebrated repeatedly over those weeks. Between the funerals in Florida and West Virginia, the downtime in Tennessee and the estate planning and house-cleaning that we returned to Florida to complete, not to mention all of the driving back and forth - well, we ate cake in at least five states. I was serenaded by most of the Applebees waitstaff east of the Louisiana Purchase, we went to Busch Gardens and a Devil Rays baseball game for my birthday, and took countless pictures of me blowing out candles. It has become a permanent family joke, all those birthdays that Aunt Debbie made me celebrate that year.

My first birthday card this year was from Aunt Debbie. She wrote, "Hope you have a wonderful birthday. I remember many of your birthdays." Something about this birthday card meant a lot, was important to me this year.

Currently Listening to:

Jack Johnson's To the Sea

Save Me from What I Want

I love keeping up with my friends and coworkers from Taiwan via Facebook. But my Chinese is, to say the least, getting a little rusty. Well, it was never anything close to polished to begin with, but now what little I knew is going straight to pot. So I employ Google Translator pretty regularly in my attempts to stay abreast of the developments of their lives by "reading" their status updates. But translating Chinese to English or vice versa is something slightly less than a mathematically pure equation. Today's sample:

Katrina's Status Update - Garbage is a major event in life, whether family, psychological, or intestines inside.

Comment from Jill - You can make sentences??

Comment from Sandy - Yes, when the garbage needs to refuse, and found the garbage can, and sometimes have to wait ... But after garbage truck emptied the refuse, The happier ~

Thanks so much for all of your help, Google.

********************************************************************

Some quick media notes:

• I stumbled upon the CD/DVD package of Sufjan Stevens' The BQE at the public library last weekend. I tried the CD first and just thought, "Well, this is nice..." but when I popped the DVD into my computer and took a gander at the short film that accompanies the music I was dazzled. Hope you can see this. It is tres magnifique.
• I am obsessed with the Miranda Lambert album Revolution. I listen to it, on average, twice a day. It is such a good album, every song, so good.
• I went last week with a friend to see the movie Inception. I had heard lots of rattle and buzz about it, but didn't know much, content-wise, other than that it dealt with dreams or the dream world. It is a great movie, and I highly recommend it. One of those movies that really requires you to pay attention, get the rules, plug in, and play along. A fun ride.
• July has been an easy month at school, so I've been doing lots of pleasure reading. You can always check out my goodreads page, but I'll tell you here that I have been really edified by Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer, The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, and The Road by Cormack McCarthy as of late. I would like to write another blog about Eating Animals sometime very soon, because it has been a bit of a game changer for me.

****************************************************************

Tonight I went with my friend Andy to Ikea over in Tempe. Andy is moving in to a new apartment this week, so I offered to help him shop for furniture and furnishings and life-things. Ikea is exhausting, and it was a full three hours, and I didn't even get any meatballs - but it was a much more enjoyable experience for me in that I spent no money, and he spent a lot of money.

Wandering some of the aisles while he debated slate versus white dishes or side tables versus nightstands, I thought about my previous Ikea partners. I thought about our shopping strategies, our predilections, our magnetic attractions and repulsions to specific facets of Swedish home furnishings and the culture of Ikea. I thought about our traditions and routines, about purchases large and small. Sofia and I always bought candles and bedding. Kevin, Elena, and I once bought enough to furnish an entire Taiwanese apartment.

*************************************************************

I am happy, but not content. I'd like to meet some more like-minded individuals here. Some more grounded people. I'd like to be seeing less people for more time.

Currently Listening to

The BQE by Sufjan Stevens and

Currently Reading

The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

Electric Eel

A transcript of my thoughts whilst reading today's PostSecret blog:

• Nice looking postcard, but that kind of hyperbole isn't very effective. It makes me think you are a selfish idiot instead of a clever, annoyed observer of colleagues.
• Doubt it is true.
• "All I ask: don't tell anyone the secrets that I told you."
• That's some Robin Hood-ing. Hope this person works for Walmart.
• Ugh, tmi. And BURN!
• I miss Dana Fairbanks.
• Where is Lake Michigan on this map? I'm guessing Dad moved from Rockford, IL to Greenville, SC to take a job at Bob Jones University.
• Perfect.
• Took me like three reads to understand it. Bullshit.
• Funny, but the glare makes me have to strain my eyes just a bit too much to make this an effective photo to use.
• This is a realistic, kinda funny secret.
• Love the dream/nightmare boat underwater visual. Strong, informative secret.
• Another beautiful visual, but accompanying a secret that isn't actually much.
• Vague and therefore instantly forgettable.
• Beautiful lettering!
• SUPER CREEPY and the unicorn just sort of seals the case.
• I'm not sure how I feel about the content of this secret or the clip-art modification; it did make me think, I guess.
• Really? How is that possible, exactly? I don't get it.
• Sincere. Nicely done.
• Brilliant. Loved the husband ps.
• Very poor sentence structure. The pronoun "them" apparently isn't meant to represent the beard and contacts which are the actual antecedents, but the beard and glasses which are pictured and implied. Sadly, this person might actually have a bachelor's degree.
• That's super sweet. I love this postcard's positivity and optimism.
• Neighbor - they = singular-plural imbalance. This could have been a highly effective secret with a little tweaking.

I went to San Diego last weekend to see my sister, brother-in-law, niece, and nephew as they were in town visiting my brother-in-law's family. My friend Travis went with me. We stayed somewhere nice because he works for the Biltmore resort here in Phoenix and therefore gets these free hotel stays on reciprocity.

And now, a video spectacular:

Eh, so I didn't take many photos. And my sister didn't post hers yet, so I couldn't steal any of those. And YouTube is such shitty video quality. But making that movie, I learned how to do that in grad school. So use it or lose it, I guess.

Currently Listening to

Miranda Lambert's Revolution

and the muchly under-appreciated Lucinda Williams version of Nick Drake's song "Which Will."

The Climb

This is a burrito and a few things that are traditionally eaten with a burrito, such as chips and salsa, rice and black beans. Also, radish and cucumber slices. I think that about covers it. It was a pretty good burrito, I'm not gonna pretend otherwise.

Now here are some things that you should know about Phoenix. These are my entirely unscientific, purely anecdotal observations. Which makes them way more reliable.

• Denny's rules Phoenix. Yes, the restaurant. The home of the Grand Slam and (personal fave) Moons Over My-Hammy. Everywhere that I have been in this sprawling metro area, that familiar, saddish yellow and red irregular hexagonal sign is there to greet me. There's one just a couple of blocks from my house. There's another one about a half-mile down the road. According to my count, I pass four on my way to school in the morning. I imagine that restaurant sign sighs when it speaks its name. "Hello and welcome to Denny's. **sigh**"

• I'm really enjoying the desert architecture. It is so different, but so perfect. So adapted. So suitable. The church architecture here is really impressive too. Often times laughable, avant-garde, 1980s daring. But always notable and interesting. Here, for instance, is a photo of the church that I have attended the last two Sundays. I think we can all agree that this is a dramatic roofline.

• The birds! So many, all over, all the time. A bird watcher's dream or a Hitchcock watcher's nightmare come true. Lots of pretty varieties, fun to watch in the backyard or playing in the trees. They certainly are a bonanza for one business: car washes. Nearly every morning I find new vile and disgusting dried puddles of bird diarrhea on Miss Truvy's windshield and my driver's side door.

• Miss Truvy and I are getting pretty tight. Phoenix is definitely a car culture, for better or for worse. Well, no, that is certainly for worse. But I have been enjoying driving as of late. I've done a little exploring, a little wandering, a little getting lost. The scenery, the mountains and the desert, are spectacular. Enchanting.

• I went with roommate David up to his family's cabin in the mountains around Prescott last weekend after I had finished my school work. It was a nice, relaxing time. I read a book and watched the wildlife and beat him in Scrabble. He is a really sore loser. We climbed some rocks. Here is a video in which I share my newfound knowledge concerning the proper pronunciation of this city name from the top of said rocks:

Let's finish this blog with a fun little contrast. Two cool but very different people playing the peg game in two very different venues in two very different parts of the country, about a month apart.

First: Sofia, Cracker Barrel, Indiana.

Second: Travis, America's Taco Shop, Arizona.

Currently Listening to

Lily Allen's album It's Not Me, It's You

Opthacular Spectacular

And now, in typically Davie St. fashion, a bunch of random photographs that are a little too large, leave you confused, having still no idea of what my life here in Phoenix is like, and feeling - frankly - a little empty inside.

Liza drove me here, or something like that. Welcome to AZ!

David took us apartment shopping and to In N Out Burger on our first day here.

Now I'm living with him and haven't been back since.

I get to make my own orange juice from the fruit trees in the back yard. I did it this morning! But this photo is from a few weeks ago. I've never felt so handy in the kitchen before. And it tastes like liquid awesome.

As the delightful Kati Jo commented, "Look at you, boi! You're a student teacher... only five years after being a 'real' teacher."

This one time, I ate dinner on the back porch while talking with Liza on the phone. And I took this photo while talking with her just to prove what an awesome multitasker I and/or my phone am/is/are. Also, to prove that though I moved across the continent, I still look the same.

This is a photo of me with one of my classmates. The doughnut and the pointer finger are incidental. I took this photo to text it to the boy that I'm seeing because it turns out that he used to be romantically involved with her. Like seven years ago. Apparently Phoenix is like one of those small town high schools where everyone has gonorrhea.

I have a Taiwanese friend named Andy. He knows where to go for good beef noodle soup.

Also, he is wicked cute.

Currently pouring over

the lyrics of Ryan Adams

Boys Like Ravenous Dingoes

The things to say, they build and compound, they stack and they topple. They require plotting on an intricate thought map; they require planning and scheming and precise wording that I am not capable of composing at this late Friday night moment.

My family was on vacation this week. Escaping to a condo on the coast etc. They were having an excellent time together in Sarasota, but I was not there. I regret that. I was here working out a year of indentured servitude. A year wherein I do the work of people who are getting paid to do that work while they continue to get paid for that work that I am doing. While I instead pay, tidily, to do that work for them. Sweet deal, eh?

School is going well. My June morning have been spent in a kindergarten summer school reading program. I have five delightful students. I secretly adore them. They are Diego, Jose, Armida, Tylor, and Gabe. They say hilarious things like, "Can you please help me, Mrs. Bennett?" and "What did you say, old man?" Then I have my actual grad school classes in the afternoons. These are significantly less delightful. My fall experiences will be divided between a sixth grade all-subjects classroom and an eighth grade math assignment. About these things I am excited.

I am seeing this boy. Bam, there it is. He is basically nothing that I ever thought I would go for. For instance, he has brown eyes. And yet: it works. It is pretty weird, and I am continually amused by it all. (If you've kept up with the dirty intrigue, by the way, I should tell you that he is most certainly *not* my housemate David. He is, instead, one of David's childhood best friends. Yep, it is weird. Yep, we're working it out.)

We have a place that we go on Thursday nights, this boy that I'm seeing and I. It is our own private bar. We have our own hot bartender. We have our own go-go boy. We have our own DJ and our own dance floor. (I would like Mr. DJ to consult us a little more closely on the music selections, but I'm not sure yet how to kindly convey that message.) We were there for nearly two hours last night, and only two other patrons came in during that time. Oh wait, three. One guy with a huge potbelly came in and asked if it was a strip club. Our go-go boy was mid-martini and not dancing, so the answer was no. He looked like more of a boob man anyway, though.

Some days, if something difficult happens or I feel a bit low or out of sorts, I look up at the palm trees. The constant sunshine and the palm trees are miracle drugs; lithium for the eyes. I miss many people, places, feelings, things about Chicago, but fundamentally, I am so glad to not be there any more. I am glad to not be in Chicago.

There are dates, specific days of the calendar year, that I thought I would never forget. But you know what? I forgot them all this year. They came and they went, and I completely missed them. Don't take this too harshly, please, but I feel so very good about that.

Currently Listening to

Taylor Swift's "Today Was a Fairytale"

Phoenician

That's the correct demonym for residents of Phoenix. Makes me feel like a Harry Potter character to say it.

I'm at one of those coffeehouses where the staff feels that they are just too cool, the people just kind of sit around and look at each other, and the music is a bit too loud for comfortable conversation. That's okay since I'm just here relaxing on my own, whiling away a few Sunday afternoon hours.

At the moment, I'm the third wheel housemate, so I'm trying not to be around all the time. That's a bit of a challenge since I'm still living out of boxes and don't really know anyone here or many cool places to go. This Friday the other rent boy will be moving out, I'll be moving in to my bedroom and getting settled a bit, and it will be just me and the man with the mortgage left. The two Davids. We still haven't worked out the name issue yet. I mean, it isn't a problem for us since neither of us are in the habit of speaking in the third person, but it does seem to be tripping other people up a bit.

Yesterday I found the Asian supermarket. It is a way better one-stop destination for Taiwanese food than anything that we had in Chicago. They have my tea - which I needlessly super stocked-up on before moving - bagged and bottled varieties, they have the kind of frozen fried rice that I used to buy, they have the perfect green onion pancakes for making dan bing, they have the lychee jellies and a nice variety of ramen noodles. I'm really happy.

Oh yeah, I'm really happy. I love it here. This can always change, right, and I've only been here a little more than a week. But for right now I feel like I've made a really great move. There's palm trees everywhere. My nose is really red right now because I did some tanning in the backyard after church this morning. The nightlife places that I've been to so far have been great. People are so friendly. It is 95 degrees and awesome. School starts in a couple of days, and I'm excited about all of the possibilities that holds. I met with the program director last week, and it was such an encouraging meeting.

I'm on Pacific Time now, so stop texting me so friggin' early. Thanks.

The drive here! I almost forgot, there's been so much to do in the last week. The drive was - unexpectedly - wonderful. I got to see so much more of Illinois than ever before, had some crazy weather in Missouri, sang Carrie Underwood at the top of my lungs while loving the beautiful crossing of Oklahoma, picked up Elizabeth Annette in Texas, was wowed by the subtle beauties of New Mexico, and then we rolled into Arizona through some really cool red dust storms and amazing mountain terrain, right on in to Phoenix.

Money sucks, the spending of it, the lack of it coming in.

I bought a car! I had to; school is about 30 minutes away from my lovely Central Phoenix neighborhood. She is the same shade of red as the lipstick the every little girl paints her face with when she first breaks into her mother's cosmetic cabinet to begin experimenting. That bright, sort of tacky red. I named her Truvy, but you can call her Miss Truvy. As in, "Miss Truvy, I promise that my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair." She is an Oldsmobile Alero, which I am certain makes my GM-pensioned Grandpa and Grandma smile down on me from Heaven (and hopefully watch over me since she has 140,000+ miles on her engine).

So that's a bit of a rambling update from me. I did it. All of those spoken and unspoken threats to you, Chicago, that I was going to leave you: fulfilled. All of those songs that I heard and thought would make great driving away music, I sang 'em. All the ways that I told myself that I should make my life better, I'm going to do them. I started last week, and I'm not going to stop.

I don't think I can overstate the importance of these words to me in the last couple of months: "Decide what to be, and go be it." Thanks, Avetts. I have, and I will.

And just to add insult to injury, when I get on my feet a little more, money-wise, I'm going to get a scooter. I am.


Currently Listening to
MGMT's Oracular Spectacular

Dear Chicago

I'm sure I tell this story all of the time. I'm sure you are sick of hearing it. But here I go again.

I remember so clearly the day that I first came to Chicago to live. Moving truck cresting the Chicago Skyway, crossing the Illinois state line, first glimpses of the impressive architectural feats of the downtown of this monstrous city that was going to kill or be conquered. I remember driving up Lake Shore Drive on the most beautiful late summer mid-afternoon that has ever been. I remember passing that sleek starship that we call Soldier Field, being overwhelmed by the verdant Grant Park on my left, thinking that the blue of Lake Michigan was the most impressive, most fabulous, most alive color that I had ever seen. Sailboats dotted the blue; my heart raced with anxiety, wonder, joy. There were beaches, there were skyscrapers, there were people everywhere.

To say I was overwhelmed doesn't do justice. I guess I was gobsmacked.

Living in this city now for three years - three trying, rewarding, wonderful, awful years - has not yet robbed me of the wonder that I felt that first day. I still love to look out the windows of the Brown Line L train as it crosses the Chicago River into downtown. I still love the skyline views from the beach at Fullerton and the Museum Campus. I still love walking up and down Broadway and Clark and Milwaukee and Michigan and Belmont and Randolph. I still love the parks and the restaurants and the theatres, and the people still make me roll my eyes and laugh. The hearty, strange Midwestern people. The city people. The people of amazing ethnicities and difficult languages.

I am excited about my big move. My life is going to change in large, fundamental ways. But I'm worried. I know this city now. I know my parts of it well. We've reached a level of comfortable stasis. I'm worried that I'll never be able to walk to work again. I'm worried that I won't find tacos al pastor that I love as much as the ones at Buena Vista. I'm worried that no Gay Pride Parade can ever compare. I'm worried that I won't find good thrift stores and won't like the nightlife and won't have any Muslim coworkers and will have to drive, like, everywhere, like, all the time.

Thank you, Chicago. Thank you for three beautiful years of life. Please don't forget me.

"I hope that you will think of me
In moments when you're happy and you're smiling
That the thought will comfort you
On cold and cloudy days if you are crying"

Photo courtesy of LAP Photography. Copyright 2005.

Uprooted

This picture of my nephew Jesse is outdated - he's way bigger than this now - but it cracks me up and must be shared.

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One problem with having friends in other countries who speak other languages (no offense, Anne Sue!) is that details can get lost in translation. They they can sometimes misunderstand time words or verb tenses from emails and Facebook status updates. One of my friends and one of my former co-teachers from Taiwan met each other last week and were apparently talking about me and how I had moved to Phoenix. They both sent me emails asking about how I liked my new home and when they could come visit.

Not yet, people.

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Chicago has all of these awesome, kinda strange laws. One is that if your restaurant, cafe, or coffee shop provides sidewalk dining opportunities, you have to maintain flower boxes and live plants in a certain proportion to the amount of seating available. It sounds weird, but it makes everything look much, much nicer. Sometimes it is an invitation to mischief though.

Walking to work Monday morning, I passed by a stem of tulip that had been uprooted from a restaurant window box, bulb and all, and left to die of exposure on the cold, desolate concrete sidewalk. There was still a bit of dirt clinging to the tiny rootules spreading from the bottom of the bulb. The green of the stem was still fresh.

It felt a bit like one of those horrible news stories where person after person walks by a dying woman on an urban sidewalk, and it is all caught on surveillance camera footage. Like the callous rabbi passing by the beaten, suffering man in the story of the Good Samaritan.

I kept walking.

****************************************

If I had known then what I know now, I would have asked to have been assigned to work at our bank's main office two years ago when I started this job. Yesterday I got tickets, really great seats, to a Cubs game. Just for being there at the right time and saying "Yes, I would like two free tickets to tonight's game." My bank has a bunch of season tickets which they generally give to those hefty, important business or loan customers that they need to keep happy. I guess no one wanted them yesterday, so I got to mark "Baseball Game at Wrigley Field" off of my Chicago Bucket List.

And then there's the neighborhood connections. I have met so many of the owners, operators, and managers of some of Chicago's biggest and best gay bars over the last month. Scarlett, Circuit, Roscoe's, Bobby Love's, Charlie's, North End, MiniBar... I could have been drinking for free for the last two years, people. Not to mention the Boystown restaurants, salons, shops... Shame.

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I have nothing to say about Arizona's new state law concerning illegal immigrants.

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On Sunday I finally cashed in my Entenmann's outlet punch card. Two years of bakery thrift store shopping for two free loaves of bread. And two boxes of donuts - those I paid for. I was able to walk to this palace of refined flour and carbo-laden breakfast treats for a few months after I moved back to Chicago in 2008. Since I've lived in Lakeview my visits have been limited to occasions when Sofia and I happen to be driving by on our way to...wherever.

I really wanted to ask that quirky checkout lady if I could take a picture with her since it was certain to be my last visit. I'll always remember her: her rambling, borderline-nonsensical cash register conversation, the way that she loved me for bringing my own bags, and that uniquely sloppy way in which she pins up her hair. Kind of the art of misdirection, actually. 'Cause she's beautiful.

Currently Listening to:

"Borderline/Open Your Heart" by those talented kids from that Glee show

Backup

I talked with a couple of really good friends on the phone this afternoon. I love how whenever I talk with these friends - all too rare an occasion - I always understand something better after our conversation. Something about life, something about how I feel or how the world works.

We are all moving; exciting things are happening in our lives. I asked this friend if the next couple of weeks were going to be difficult for him, emotionally. He said simply, straighforwardly, somewhat quickly, no. (I hope he doesn't mind me sharing this. Anyway, I'm not using his name, so you'll never know who he is! Ha.) He said that he thinks it will be a bit more difficult for his wife, but that he doesn't expect to feel much, you know, sadness. (I'm paraphrasing like crazy here.) He isn't too attached. But there is an element of something else. Some guilt. A feeling of leaving people behind, people who - I suggested - may very well have become attached to him.

I feel this way also. There are a few people here in Chicago whom I will miss, and miss greatly. People who have become dear to me. I feel sad to leave them. My heart will be heavy when we say goodbye. I'll even tear up over a couple of them. But in general, leaving now, I'm excited, and I'm going to feel that excitement of being the one off to see and experience and conquer a new place. But I feel bad about leaving. I feel some guilt; I feel like I am abandoning people. (It seems based on this sentence that I have a very high opinion of myself. I don't think that is necessarily the case, but perhaps it is.) I actually felt bad when I gave my notice at work last Friday. For the most part, these people have been very nice to me. They have offered me opportunities, they have supported me and looked out for me. They have been my coworkers and pals. I respect them and thank them.

I guess I feel a bit of the abandoner's guilt. My other friend on the phone told me that I am fortunate to be single, to be able to move, to seize opportunities and not have those attachments that make these kind of life transitions so much more difficult. She asked me not to be offended by that. I'm not offended in the least. (How could I ever be offended by something that she said? Okay, well, there was that one time...)

And sometimes, the best times, I even agree with her.

*****************************************

I'm making a Chicago bucket list. Less than a month now, and I'm out of here. The clock is ticking, and there's still so much that I haven't done yet.

There are a few things on the list that I just want to do. Everything else is on the list as a response to this imaginary future conversation:

Person to Whom I am Speaking: Oh, you lived in Chicago? Did you ever...

Me: Oh, no, I never actually...

PtWIaS: Oh, well, you must have been to...

Me: Well, you know, I'm not actually from Chicago, so...

PtWIaS: But you were there how many years? You must have eaten at...

Me: No, somehow I never quite made it there. I heard about it, but just never got around to...

PtWIaS: Wow, you've really got to go back there some time and check these things out.

Me: Will you excuse me please? I've just got to...

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I just had the best weekend with my dearest, darlingest friends Sarah and Kati as they were in town for - primarily - a visit with me, and a little sidecar medical conference hobbnobbery also. We ate and talked and drank, (there was some Sunday night dancing in there as well) and I personally just had the warmest, most delightful time. I love those girls.

Tonight I went to one of those wonderful movie premieres with my (pardon the crudity, but she is pretty celeb-obsessed) starfucking friend Happy. They plied us with alcohol and food at this swanky Brazilian steakhouse ahead of time, and I ate this lovely plate of meat pictured below. The movie was still A-W-F-U-L. Richard Roeper was sitting in the press row behind us, so I stole a glance his way every now and then. He went catatonic just a few minutes in, from what I could gather.

Currently Just Watched:

The Backup Plan

Key quote from the film: "I think you are going to leave this place and really regret it."

Lakeview

I had a customer today, I swear he walked right out of Tales of the City and into my bank. Big guy, talking to his dog, 70s hair and shirt style. I thought to myself, "Armistead Maupin character," and then he gave me his driver's license. California. San Francisco. Castro Street. Named Jon.

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Better but slightly longer customer story: I read this blog called Towleroad on a daily basis. It is a gay politics/pop culture/sports/world interests blog. Thursday evening I got home from eating dinner, wandering the downtown streets, and spending quality time with my visiting friends Sarah and Kati, and I did a little internet reading before I turned in for the night. I read this particular blog entry with particular interest.

Background: last week, former Republican Presidential candidate Mike Huckabee gave an interview in which he disagreed with the rolling back of the gays in the military ban, said that not-quite-marriage civil unions were unacceptable, and then flung this gem at gay couples who want to adopt (was against the law until this week in his home state of Arkansas): "Children are not puppies."

So the Hearty Boys didn't like that. They are a gay couple who own and operate several Chicago restaurants, a catering business, and have a show on the Food Network. And they wrote this really great letter to Mr. Huckabee rebuking him for his ignorant, mean-spirited diss on gay parents and inviting him over for dinner at their house. You know, so that he could see how their very normal, very loving, and very gay family operates. How very similar it is, indeed, to his own.

I read their letter on the blog Thursday night, and for no particular reason other than my own curiosity, I looked closely at the photo of the two of them. I've eaten at their restaurant before, they are kind of neighborhood celebrities, and I know that their business accounts are at my bank. So I was curious.

Friday morning at work a gentleman came to my teller window who looked kind of familiar. My first reaction was that he looks like the dad from Modern Family. And then I glanced at his checks. Depositing Hearty Boys checks into a joint account, Dan and Steve. So I helped him with his transaction, and then I said, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you are actually one of the Hearty Boys, right?" Which is kind of a super awkward line, but I was building up to something. And I was really excited that I had just been reading about him on the internets the night before, and now here he was, right in front of me! Cool.

He acknowledged that he was with a smile and a nod, and then I said, "I saw the letter that you and your husband wrote to Mike Huckabee. That was so wonderful and felt really meaningful and important to me." And he got a little flustered and a little embarrassed as any really normal, humble human being would, and he thanked me and said that his partner had actually been the one to write it. And then we had a further little exchange about how great the letter was and gay rights and his family and then we said goodbye. It felt so good to thank him, to just add my little voice to his bigger voice, speaking out for recognition and equality. It made my week.

As he walked away, I sort of regretted not telling him that my family all voted for Mike Huckabee in the primaries a couple of years ago. But now I'm sort of relieved that I kept that colorful little detail to myself.

Currently Listening to

Glee Vols. 1 and 2

Light a Roman Candle With Me

Jewish pigeons. Hilarious.

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Everything's happening very quickly. I just reserved a moving truck. I'm giving my notice at work on Friday. I'm making plans. Stuff is going down. I feel a bit lightheaded. I'm kind of freaking out. Yes, it is a good freaking out, but like I said to Liza on the phone just now, the physical effects are the same. I'm very twitchy.

School is happening. I'm going to be back in the classroom doing what I love - teaching! - in a matter of a few months. This is wonderful.

Currently Listening to

Aim and Ignite by fun. That guy used to be in The Format.

Clever

Debacle. (Please pronounce this word in your best faux-French accent.)

This is a horrible thing that happened to me yesterday. (I very much prefer to use the passive voice in this case.) Mid-afternoon, I had just arrived home from work, I was talking with Liza on the phone, and I was starving. And I took this very hot Trader Joe's Curried Lentils microwave meal out of said microwave with one hand, and I dropped it. And then I said naughty words because that shit went flying everywhere. But eventually I was able to mop it all up and laugh it off. My little shoebox apartment still smells quite exotic though.

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I got an Easter basket today. I can't remember the last time that I had an Easter basket. Only really, really special people give you Easter baskets. It contained a bottle of bubbles (Super Miracle Bubbles with a really fancy wand!), as every decent Easter basket should. I was thrilled and humbled.

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I got in trouble yesterday for wearing blue corduroys to work. My supervisor said, "You know you can't wear jeans to work, even on Saturday." And I said, "These aren't jeans. They are cords." And she said "You can't wear those either." And I said, "Since when?" And she said, "It is in the dress code." And I said, "No, it isn't." And she said, "I'll be right back." And she came back like five minutes later with an ancient copy of the bank's dress code and said, "I know this isn't the most recent version of the dress code, but here it is, 'No Corduroys.'" And I looked at her like she was a crazy person and said, "Okay."

The thing is, the men at our bank have to wear a dress shirt and tie to work every day of the week. And the girls? Most of them wear tee shirts (which they call "blouses," ha) and ugly pants. Sexist community bank. Those girls should have to wear skirts or jaunty neck scarves or something equally penal.

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I got a missed connection at work the other day! (This is no great feat, as I work in one of the gayest neighborhoods in the universe. In fact, if I never got a missed connection there, I'd be a pretty terrible gay.)

We are gonna go out for sushi. Oooh, fun!

Currently thinking about the motion picture that I watched last night called

An Education

which really pulls you in to what seems like a pretty pervy premise, kinda convinces you, and then slams you on your ass. Great movie.

Chicas y Maletas

It is scholarship application day for me. "Please oh please, won't you give me some money?" No, I beg my future school in slightly more verbose, slightly less lyrical language.

"As an incoming non-resident student to the cohort, I am facing an extraordinarily large tuition bill for a relatively short program of study. Additionally, I will be relocating from Chicago, Illinois in order to take part in this program. I am excited about the fact that this accelerated program will allow me to be observing and working in the classroom almost immediately, but I am in need of some some significant financial assistance in order to make this dream a reality. I am pursuing any and all funding opportunities available. My sincerest gratitude to you for your consideration."

I'm also applying for a scholarship that is given exclusively to gay men. The age cutoff for award consideration is 35 years old. I find this to be a close call, which I then find to be incredibly disturbing. Like finding a rat in my refrigerator, it turns my stomach a bit.

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Work is going well. I feel like I've got most of the transition behind me now. I'm working out of the main office about half of the time, working at other branches the other days. After two years at the same desk at the same location with the same people every day, this obliteration of my safe, comfortable routines was just what I needed at just the right time. A swift kick in the ass; no more coasting, no more inertia.

And the time is passing so quickly! Just a couple more days until April. And then May, the month when everything changes.

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My parents are coming to visit for a few days next week. I'm excited about this. The last time they were in Chicago was back in the summer of 2006, a few weeks before I left for Taiwan. I've got a few things planned for us. Hopefully the weather will be nice and spring-like. It has been drippy nose temperatures the last few days.

The week after that I am expecting quality time with my dear friend Sarah as she visits Chicago for a medical conference. She is an extremely important medical professional - Dr. Sarah, in fact. We missed our yearly catch-up Christmas date this past holiday season, so it will be great, great, great to see her. Is her sister Kati Jo coming to town too, perhaps? I haven't heard, though I know that this was under discussion.

Spring! What an exciting time.

Last night I watched a wonderful film:

Broken Embraces, a film by Pedro Almodovar