How do you know when to take the good with the bad?

I got a picture-message from my sister last night. It was a close up shot my family's Christmas Tree. I'll be honest and say it was a little sad not being there for the tree stuff. I typically don't like to make a big deal out of stuff like that, but nonetheless, I missed them. Weird... I questioned my decision to stay in Atlanta and work on my projects instead of going home like I had originally intended. I don't regret my decision, just questioned it.

I miss my dogs and I miss the smell of the house when the heater is first turned on. I miss the cold wet November leaves on the ground and the way the cold would sting your nose the moment you walked outside. I miss the way the smell of burning wood in the fireplace would warp itself around you and hold you if only for a second. I miss fake fighting and getting tipsy with my siblings and trying to keep it together for dinner. I miss being the only one that didn't close my eyes for the dinner prayer. I miss the Starbucks runs with my siblings--trying to pimp out in the Audi! I miss the taste of the rolls my mom makes. I miss the little subtle decorative hints found throughout the house that suggest what season we're in--be it a candle, or a sad antique toy. I miss my brother and sister playing the drums in the basement or my older sister playing the piano while I try to watch TV. I miss the sound of my walk on the hard wood floors. I miss the small moments when I would look around the house and think to myself " I grew up here?" I miss my mother's uncomfortable sofa that looks awesome, but isn't functional at all. I miss trying to pile into the "tavern room" (all of the rooms have their own name) to watch a movie but with no where to sit. I miss seeing Jack-dog curled up in my dad's leather chair and the way my mom would shout through a whisper for him to get off.

But I don't miss the fighting and the yelling. I don't miss walking on egg shells to keep my father from exploding. I don't miss pretending that nothing bad ever happened there. I don't miss looking at the fireplace in the old living room and reliving everything again. I don't miss getting mad at my dad and being forced to keep it to myself. I don't miss the way we all would fall back into the rolls we had when we were 10 or 11 years old. I don't miss feeling guilty for watching TV. I don't miss the ridiculous requests made by my father. I don't miss the ongoing power struggles. I don't miss the cold administrative conversations with my dad. I don't miss the constant disapproving comments and glances. I don't miss the negative commentary. I don't miss the soapbox political statements.

It's hard to know if I made the right choice.

where are they now...

So within the past two weeks, random people from my past have been popping up out of the blue! And by people of my past, I mean my fellow (and former)r PKD performers!!! About a lifetime ago, I had a 3-year run hosting (and dancing in) a Nickelodeon show at a paw-dunk theme park in the outskirts of Richmond, VA called Paramount's Kings Dominion. It was a white-trash country fair but to me and my friends that worked there it was pretty much hollywood! The show was a real 35 minute-long Nickelodeon show that was written and produced by awesome people from Nickelodeon Studios. We performed 4 shows a day and 5 on Saturdays. It was the most dedicated I've ever been to any job that I've ever had--I had even dropped out of college for a year in an attempt to further my yet-to-being acting career with Nickelodeon.



So why aren't I working there now? This is a loaded question best answered over a spilled bottle of Malibu Rum and Watermelon Smirnoff Ice! Let's just say it eventually felt like the wrong thing for me to be doing at the time...

My favorite part of working there were the rehearsal periods. We had about three weeks to learn the show--dances, lines, blocking, etc.... It was a very intense three weeks and I loved every minute of it. It felt great to come home at 2:00 in the AM and collapse on my bed from exhaustion. There was something so invigorating about being a part of a creative process. I loved to watch the producers, directors, and costume people huttle in a corner while we performed to an empty stadium. Always wondering which one of us they were talking about and who was going to get their ass handed to them for half-assing it.

Being at PC feels a lot like it did when I was rehearsing for the PKD shows. I think that's a very good sign!!!

Fall Into The Gap

So it's been a week and I've been slacking off on the blog. My apologies. But I have been kicking ass with all of my assignments and navigating through the peaks and valleys of motivation!

So Saturday my motivation and inspiration were at an all time low. I didn't want to do a damn thing with design and I was sick of looking at everything I had worked on that week. So I skipped my Saturday class, got myself fixed up to go out (which I haven't done in a while) and set out for the Ansley Square Starbucks for a mid-afternoon Venti Skim with whip Peppermint Mocha! I perused through a bookstore and saturated myself into the see and be seen atmosphere. It was great. I haven't enjoyed being around gay guys in quite some time.

Afterwards, I picked up roommate and we headed to the mall for some food--and he needed a shirt from the gap. So we show up at Lennox Square mall where we hiked through the hordes of cell phone talkers and slow walkers until we reached our destination--the newly redesigned gap store (and by redesign I mean they added more blue-black and dimmed all of the lights). While roommate looked for his special shirt, I began to toy with the idea of getting a puffy vest. It was while abandoning the idea of the puffy vest that I found myself starring at a huge wall of scarves, which were arranged by color. "Consumer-me" took charge of the situation and began to yay or nay each scarf by cross-referencing each scarf in terms of occasion and outfit. Out of the blue, like a knee-jerk reaction, this new "designer-me" stepped in and told consumer-me to fuck off. I began to realize that these scarves were someone else's design. They were good designs, but they weren't my designs. And in this moment I felt like these were the only choices in scarf I could ever have. And that truly disgusted me. And then it hit me--why the fuck couldn't I design a scarf for myself? So then Consumer-me and Designer-me had a little conference call:

CM: So you want to make a scarf?

DM: Yeah, I think I can figure it out!

CM: Can you knit?

DM: No, can you?

CM: No, that's why I'm at the gap dumbass!

DM: Well, these scarves are great, but they're not unique enough for Mr. Fenton.

CM: Who's Mr. Fenton?

DM: I've learned a lot in the past couple months--I’ve cut paper, made boxes, and even worked with leather burning! Why not add knitting to the list?

CM: (silence)

DM: Yea!! Let's do it CM!! Let's learn to knit and make awesome scaves!

CM: What's the worst that could happen?


And then CM and DM went to the Ansley Square Starbucks where they both found hot Latino boyfriends!



So it was while looking at scarves at the gap that i was able to actually feel my own potential. Roommate got his shirt, I got a puffy vest, and we went home and got to work! I like to think that this jolt of gap-induced inspiration was worth missing class for.

And if anyone knows how to knit--please pass along some tips!!! My goal is to have one scarf knitted by Christmas break!

Best read while listening to Sarah McLachlan's Elsewhere from "Fumbling Towards Ectasy"

Today I helped my friend and her girlfriend move into their incredible apartment in Little 5 points! It was actually the first time I’ve enjoyed unloading a U-Haul--probably because it involved 6 awesome people!! It felt a little bit like a cheesy straight-to-DVD gay British movie (the kind that you can only find in certain Blockbusters). It sounds funny, but it felt safe to be around other gay people (plus my roommate) in a setting that didn't involve alcohol or bar smell. Not that I feel unsafe when I'm not around other gay people, but there is always an internal sigh of relief when I know I'm not the only one in the group.

It really sucks when you're the only one of anything in a group. Like if you're the only woman, or the only red-head, or the shortest, or the heaviest. I think we all sometimes feel like the only of one of something when we're in a group. Sometimes that one differentiating characteristic is the basis of our insecurity. I think everyone interprets that insecurity differently, and adapts a certain behavior or persona to cope with it. For example, when I'm the only gay person in a group, it makes me feel a little insecure because I don't know if other people approve of it or not. So I try to find a way--usually with humor--to make it okay for them --and then it makes it okay for me. Now it's pretty simple to say "fuck 'em if the don't approve." "Since when do you need anyone's approval to be who you are?" Well...this looks great on paper, and sounds even better on Oprah, but in reality it's not so cut and dry--at least not for me.

Incidentally, since I've been at Portfolio Center, I'm starting to feel less dependent on other people's approval to substitute a floundering self-esteem. I think it's because my reasons for wanting to come to PC were my reasons, and mine alone. They were not influenced by anyone else, (i.e. my father). I feel like I'm living the life that I want for myself, and not a life that I think my father would approve of. This school may teach a lot about typeface design and color harmonies, but it's a lot more than that to me. I look around at all of the other students and wonder if it means more to them too. I'm curious to know what PC means to other students and graduates of the program.

In honor of the shifting politcal climate, I give you Jem and the Holigrams!

Sibling Rivalery?

And here it is---the AFTER portrait of my new beautiful sisters after completing 6 months recovering from some intense plastic surgery. Up until recently, my parents felt my sisters' picture only belonged in scientific journals documenting the social affects of ugly. My brother and I had to have 72-hour intervention with my folks to convince them to take all of their saved up Christmas money and spend it on plastic surgery for the girls. We all had a good laugh for about 45 consecutive minutes, followed by some heavy drinking and some heavy charades-playing. Long story short--my parents lost the game of drunk-charades, and now my sisters are less ugly then before! Thanks mom and dad!!! Hang in there girls!!! See ya at Thanksgiving!!!

PS--I'm bringing Open-Bar-Nana! wooo hoooooo

Gay fact or fiction

I recently had someone tell me that a gay guy is a girl’s ultimate accessory. Every time I hear some fucked up shit like this a small piece of me dies inside. But I guess to many people, gay guys are fashionable, bitchy, well-groomed men with perfect bodies and a lot of disposable income. To some gay guys, that's exactly the standard they feel they should live up to. Nothing disappoints me more than this thought process. I always feel sad and let down by people who think this way. It also makes me resent myself a little for not adopting this fucked up way of thinking. Sometimes I think if I were more like the stereotyped gay guys, maybe I wouldn't be single.... or maybe I would have a more "fabulous" life.

So, if you don't fit the gay stereo type, then are you still gay? That's a tricky question. In the real world, you're still gay, but just different because you don't use the word fabulous. However, in the gay world you're not understood. You speak a foreign language. Your topics of conversation are confusing and are often followed by long pauses and blank stares. You're different and they fear you. You're not really considered the "right kind of gay."

So what is the "right kind of gay?" He goes to gay pride parades dressed in a cowboy hat and a Speedo. He totes a well-recognized name brand messenger bag, and can identify other people's clothing by name brand and price point. He goes to the same bars and clubs every weekend where he'll dance shirtless while high on some fashionable drug sipping on a vodka tonic. He has two or three boyfriends that probably know about each other and probably met online at some point. He worships gay icons like Madonna, and will proudly drop the name of a friend of a friend who knew someone that did Kelly Clarkson's make up. He wears sunglasses indoors and finds some way to expose his name brand underwear. He goes shopping with his closest girlfriend where they'll tell each other what they want to hear and disregard any sense of personal honesty. He is shallow. He is weak. He tolerates people using the word Gay as an adjective--he perpetuates the social lies that run deep within the thin waters of the gay community.

I clearly see myself as someone who doesn't fit this gay stereotype. However, in some social situations I will sell myself out and adopt some of the characteristics of the "right kind of gay" just to get me through. I'll admit there is some comfort in hiding behind that identity. Nevertheless, it's false, it’s life denying, and it's weak. I haven't met a gay guy yet who understands what this is all about.

enjoying the struggle

If someone is creative, does it mean he/she is also talented? For that matter, if someone is talented, does it mean he/she is creative? Can you have one without the other and still produce good design?

I'm sure these questions have been posed by many design students before me, but I'm really wondering how closely the two go together. There are very talented individuals at PC (and all over the world) who can cut really well with exacto blades and draw perfect thumbnail sketches--but are these people really creative? Which begs the question: what makes someone creative? Am i creative?

If you break the word down, the root word is create, and suffix means to be able to. So you could say that being creative is having the ability to create. This leads me to believe that everyone is creative, meaning everyone has the ability to create something--be it a work of art, a spreadsheet with pie charts, or even another human being. I suppose that's where talent comes in. It takes talent to enhance the ability to create.

Talent, by definition is a natural ability or aptitude. So if talent is natural, can it be taken beyond what naturally exists? I suppose the answer is yes--that's why I'm a student of design--to take my natural ability, and enhance it to a point that it supersedes itself. And this is done by practicing. Well what the fuck does practicing mean? Repeating the same action over and over expecting different results? I guess. Are the next two years of my life going to be all about practicing and getting better?

It's like when you train for a marathon you have to run every day; even if it's just a short distance. The point is to condition your body to accept a certain level of stress. With each run your body gets a little bit more conditioned so that you're able to run longer distances, or short distances faster. Some runs are good and some aren't so good. There are days when you walk, and days where you're able to sprint for a little bit. Being a PC student is exactly like that.

It's all a big struggle. And I'm sure it won't stop after the two-year program at PC. I think that's the point. I like to think that from struggle comes victory. Sometime you're struggling and sometimes your victorious. It's a sick little cycle that can easily fuck up your mind. I've experienced this mind-fuck in my own life several times--hence the name of this blog: fall and recovery. We all fall but not all of us recover.

I am very thankful for the struggles that I've experienced in my life up to this point. Because resilience is born from those struggles. And it's that resilience that will carry me through all of my life's struggles--including the next two years at PC.