April 2008

Silence.

As an older college student I am in the interesting position to make silent observations about what goes on in schools these days. There are things that many students are hesitant to say around their professors, teachers and such that they otherwise share with their fellow students. Since I reside on the student side of the fence, I hear and see many of these things directed toward or about other students.

I am fortunate in that I realised my sexual orientation very early in life and pretty much came to terms with it while I was still in high school. The last half of my senior year it was pretty much a given that I was batting for the smaller team, though I never told anyone (other than myself) until after graduation. I was picked on once in a while (actually, that was mostly before I came to terms with it myself) but it wasn’t anything that I couldn’t handle for the most part. During my current time in school I don’t run around screaming “I’m gay! I’m gay! Look at me I’m gay!” with my hands waving in the air but I don’t deny or mislead in anyway and I correct people who assume that my wedding band represents a heterosexual marriage. I, for the most part, have the respect of my fellow students and am able to “hang with the guys”. I attribute most of this to my age.

Like me so many years ago, today there are many teens coming to terms with their sexuality early in life. The atmosphere is seemingly more accepting, but in a way this can be a little deceiving. There’s television shows that show openly gay people all over the place. You can not go a day without hearing something about gay rights or gay marriage or whatever on the news. Almost everyone knows at least one openly gay person. So in many ways the atmosphere seems more relaxed than ever before.

On the other hand, there’s still a lot of hate towards gay people out there. Like the witch hunts of hundreds of years ago, I believe there are people out there that would become alarmingly gleeful at the thought of hanging a gay man or lesbian, simply because they are different from themselves. The old ways of intolerance are handed down from generation to generation and the intensity of the hate seems to increase in the process. In February, 15 year old Lawrence King was shot and killed by a 14-year old classmate simply because he was gay. There wasn’t a lot of media coverage about the murder, apparently the latest display of Britney Spears’ vagina is more important. Perhaps the lack of coverage is indicative of a true lack of progress in the acceptance of the differences amongst us.

Today is the National Day of Silence (click link for more information)1. To show my support to this cause (and taking a cue from fellow Tweeter ‘robocub’), I am completely silent on Twitter today.

But you can bet that I’ll be outspoken at school.

1 (from dayofsilence.org): What is the Day of Silence®?
The Day of Silence, a project of the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN), is a student-led day of action when concerned students, from middle school to college, take some form of a vow of silence to bring attention to the name-calling, bullying and harassment — in effect, the silencing — experienced by LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender) students and their allies. This year’s Day of Silence will be held in memory of Lawrence King.

Chemically Speaking.

I have mentioned before that I occasionally approach my health as a big science experiment. Not one to subscribe through the “better living through chemistry” route, I avoid going to the doctor as much as possible. I suppose this has to do with my medical history; as a small child I was as little bundle of medical bills for my parents and as a teenager, occasional bouts with medical needs in my favorite parts has helped me in a couple of ways: I have a wicked high tolerance for pain and I don’t run to the emergency room for every little sneeze, cough or broken limb.

My aforementioned troubles with my favorite parts was corrected a number of years ago (and continues to function perfectly), but I keep very close tabs as to what’s going on down there. Hence the confirmation of my latest suspicion: diet pop is bad for you.

I hadn’t had any sort of diet cola over the past month or so. Whilst eating out I have favored iced tea or just gone for the gold and asked for Guinness. When working at the bar, I favored bottled water or a beer (aside from one shot I was asked to do with a bartender which turned out to be Goldschlager last weekend). While we were in New Haven last weekend, I had a couple of beers with the guys after the chorus concert and then decided enough was enough: I didn’t need anymore beer so I switched to Diet Coke.

Sunday I found that my favorite parts don’t like Diet Coke. Nothing became stopped up nor was there wasn’t anything alarming going on, but things felt different (and not as ‘streamlined’) with my plumbing and the only change I had made in my diet was the addition of the Diet Coke. I had one more diet coke with a burger bomb (why the Thruway McDonalds don’t carry iced tea anymore is anyone’s guess) and then switched back to water and/or iced tea.

After a couple of hours, all was right with my plumbing once again and things have been fine ever since. The only change? I stopped drinking diet pop again (and I’m not adding beer back to the mix either).

I think there’s something to be said about this little science experiment of sorts. I’ve never been a big fan of the chemically modified food; I figure if you’re going to eat sugar then it’s better to eat the real deal instead of the fake stuff. I’ve told about my experience with “Olean” (nee Olestra) in Pringles, the Thruway and a tree along the side of the roadway. It makes me wonder about all the other chemicals that we are putting in our body in an effort of being healthy; especially the stuff they hock in television ads these days.

If anything I’m making a stronger effort in keeping things natural. My favorite parts are most appreciative.

Food Shopping.

You would think that being a full-time college student with minimal work responsibilities would afford me the opportunity to do the grocery shopping in our merry little home. Yet somehow I get out of it week after week. When Earl opens a cupboard and sees nothing but emptiness, I bark out “I’ve got homework to do!” by reflex and open any random book that happens to be close by. I may be a Civil Engineering student but by god if I have to write a paper on the Betty Crocker’s cookbook to get out of grocery shopping, then that’s what I’ll do! I wonder if there has been some sort of Pavlov’s dog training in my past.

I really dislike grocery shopping. I’ve tried all sorts of tactics to make it a pleasant experience. Earl and I have sung cereal commercial jingles from the 70s in the appropriate aisle. I’ve recited the “Here’s his ancient Chinese secret, Calgon!” commercial verbatim. I’ve juggled the returnable cans. I’ve made obnoxious dump truck back-up noises while moving my cart through produce. I’ve even tried the whole experience nearly passed out drunk. Nothing. I find no joy in the grocery shopping experience (not even the nap in the cart next to the deli counter after I did pass out drunk).

The only time I enjoy going to the market is when we are able to get to Wegmans. Grocery shopping at Wegmans is nearly a religious experience. The food is fresher, the tempo of the store is livelier, the asses are cuter. There’s more interesting potions in the Health and Beauty Aisle and there’s more intoxicating natural freshness in the Nature’s Way arena. Anyone that claims that a non-Wegmans store is “like Wegmans” or “nearly the same thing” gets a prompt slap across the face in the name of blasphemy. Unfortunately the closest Wegmans to us is 50 miles away. Our noodles go limp when they have to travel that far to make it to the cupboard. So we settle for second rate freshness and premium prices.

Looking through the cupboards tonight, I have a horrid feeling that we are going to need to go grocery shopping before the week is out. Perhaps Earl is in the mood to dine out.

Or at least read my paper on how to make a good cupcake.

GB5:NYC or GB:NYC5


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Earl and I are planning a little vacation the week between my spring and summer semesters. I think we are going to spend five days or so in New York. We’ll take the train down and do the Big Apple thing. This way we’ll be sure to be at GB:NYC5 (or is it GB5:NYC?)! (Gay Blogger meet)

Here’s a picture from last year’s GB:NYC. We had a lot of fun on “Bear Hill” in Central Park.

GB:NYC4 in the Park.

The Sweet Sound of a Weekend.

Earl and I are back from our trip to New Haven, Connecticut. Saturday night was the final of the four performances of the Connecticut Gay Men’s Chorus; the performance was at the Shubert Theatre in the hip ‘burg of New Haven. Out of the four performances, this audience had the most pep and it energised the performers on stage.

The Shubert Theatre is a ‘union hall’ where they employ capable technicians to do capable, yet specific things for all the performances at said venue. This is the way these things work and in many cases the techs can be somewhat cranky; I was fortunate to encounter an easy-going sound man that was very content with me mixing and running the show after he got everything setup to their specs. (He was basically getting paid to make sure I didn’t blow the place up). The show went off nearly-flawlessly as far as sound production is concerned (there was a couple of microphone glitches that I was partly responsible for) but for the most part I was pleased with the sound of the show. I know the audience was entertained and the performers had fun so that’s what’s most important to me. I hope to have the opportunity to do this sort of work again in the near future, because I really like it a lot.

One of the songs performed in the show is “Could It Be Magic” by Barry Manilow. It’s a 1993 remix that I introduced Greg (the director) to back in January and he decided it to use it in the show and give it to David, a performer that hasn’t had the opportunity to sing a solo with the chorus before. David got together with Jeffrey and arranged the song into a duet (complete with choreography) that I have to admit was quite impressive. I have performed this version of the song at various charity benefits over the years but I’m going to say that David’s performance of the track literally brought tears to my eyes and gave me goosebumps. When Earl came down out of the balcony after the show, he remarked that “Could It Be Magic” was excellent and gave him goosebumps. It’s good to a performer shine when given the chance.

After the performance, Earl and I joined Greg (director), Bob (partner) (of “Greg and Bob” that I mention from time to time) and Nicole (Bob’s friend) and headed to the cast party at the York Street Café and Bar where we had a really good time. There’s a certain amount of intrigue that comes with being a relatively unfamiliar face in a city and Earl and I sort of revel in that. We made some new friends and look forward to visiting New Haven again soon. As always Greg and Bob were very hospitable. We like them.

This morning we met up with Greg and Bob (the same ones) for brunch at the same café before they went to New York (the city one) to see Gypsy while we went left for New York (the state one), which we call home.

Saturday Classic.

Here’s a fan made video to one of my favorite tracks from 1990 (though it was never released as a single). I played this during one of my first DJ gigs in Erie, Pa. It was one of the first songs I felt I was taking a risk by playing because there were no remixes and it was an unreleased track. I was delighted when the crowd continued the pace on the dance floor.

Enjoy Mariah Carey and “Prisoner”.

So Much For That.

I had every intent on review the American Idol contestants every week until the end of the season but I guess I’ve lost interest. I didn’t even remember that American Idol was on this week. Carly doesn’t even spin my wheel anymore.

Oh well, so much for that.

I think I’ve pretty much lost interest in all network television. “Las Vegas” is gone. I’m still bitter about the loss of “Judging Amy” years ago. “Heroes” does nothing for me. I more content with Sam and Darrin, Wally and Beaver, Lucy and Ricky and the folks at 1313 Mockingbird Lane.

I just read that NBC is going to start using the sponsors as building blocks for shows and then write a story around that to come up with programs. I think this proves in many ways that network television is rapidly headed down the crapper.

What?

After working on a roadway design project for a couple of hours on AutoCAD, Surveying lab was winding to an end for the week. “I’m canceling lecture this afternoon so turn in your homework before you leave.” (I am so glad I work a day ahead of time). “Remember to log out of your computers and have a good weekend, oh, and J.P., Zach and Kendall – we recommended three students for the Civil Engineering Program Scholarships and you’re getting them. Expect a letter and a check in the mail with more details.”

WHAT?

Today is definitely a good day.

And Now For Something Different.

So with Earl out of town on business again yesterday I decided to do something completely different with my bachelor life. After working my temp job for an exhausting five hours (how do these crazy people work eight hours a day?), I met up with our friend Marc. I’ve known Marc for a very long time. He’s a good guy and also the owner of the bar that I DJ at. We met up at the bar where we completely cleaned and rewired the DJ booth. With the turnover of DJs over the past couple of years, different folks have been pulling random wires, turning random knobs and basically creating random chaos with the sound system, resulting in a mediocre sounding audio orgasm from a top-notch sound system.

We don’t like mediocre.

When all was said and done with yesterday’s project, I can now say with a grin that things VIBRATE throughout the bar when the music is playing, but it doesn’t intrude on the bar area so that people can still have a decent amount of conversation. I am pleased and I believe Marc is as well.

Since we were having such a gay ol’ time we decided to tackle a few other things and before you know it we were tied up in a few projects throughout the rest of the night: firing up the video system for the bar, moving furniture out to the farm that Marc just bought, eating dinner out, coming up with ideas to promote the bar and whatnot. Before I knew it was time to come home and catch some sleep before school today.

I miss Earl a lot when he is out of town and it’s probably better to get out and socialize when the opportunity arises.

75 Years Ago Today.

lizzy.jpg

In 1992 I was a member of America Online. One of the earliest members, my screen name was simply DJJP. I participated in a couple of chat forums offered by the service, one of them devoted to the television show Bewitched. A rabid fan of the show, I would often answer questions that others had about the program and occasionally give clarification to Samantha’s family tree or which Dick was which and such.

After doing this for a number of months, I received an e-mail from the screen name “Bewitched”. It said, “I’m impressed with your knowledge of the show. You remember things I don’t remember, and I was there!”

After chatting back and forth with this person a number of times, she claimed to be Elizabeth Montgomery. The cynic in me responded with a “Yeah, right!” She then told me that this guy had been bothering her about talking about the show, she finally agreed to an interview and had managed to get together with Dick Sargent (second Darrin) and David White (Larry Tate) and that there would be a book released soon. (Herbie J. Pilato’s “The Bewitched Book” came out later that year.) I set aside my cynicism and to this day I believe with all my soul I chatted with Elizabeth Montgomery over e-mail for the next year or so. Her messages were infrequent and she giggled like a school girl when she posted her first message on the board correcting someone on an errant fact about the show. The messages stopped when she passed on.

Happy Birthday Lizzy. I know you’re enjoying life in the sparkle of a star.