fall & recovery

2008-03-31T12:50:00.003-04:00

So last night I had my first improv class in many many years!! Since my second quarter at PC I've been wanting to take some improv classes at a place called Dad's Garage here in Atlanta, but my PC schedule as always taken precedence over my love for improv! But now, thanks to Sunday night classes, I am back in the game.

I can tell this class is going to be MUCH MUCH better then one I took in DC. The DC crowd is just too stuck up and conservative for the likes of my comedic mind. Everyone at Dad's is totally on board for my inappropriate commentary and awkward timing. This class will definitely be a true compliment to the PC work load!

In other news, I was selected to go up to NYC for the Art Director's Club of New York annual portfolio review!! I'll be heading up at the beginning of May--woo hoo!!!

Never go to Starbucks without your headphones!

2008-02-01T21:17:00.000-05:00

This afternoon, around 4:30, I ventured out to Starbucks in hopes of buckling down and focusing on my type & image book. I lasted a good four hours of straight type setting and image placement fun. However, these four hours did not go without some noteworthy observations! I should mention, that all of the following observations could've gone unnoticed, had I remembered my headphones!

At around 7:00 a homeless man sat down across from me. He kept to himself but just starred through me. I wouldn't have minded as much if he hadn't smelled so bad. But, it wasn't too intolerable. I actually think he may have been entertained by my expressive facial responses to the frustration I felt while working on the book. I understand that's a pretty narcissistic thing to think, but what can ya do! The oddest thing about this man, was that he looked like my old therapist from VA. I swear, if old therapist was homeless, he would look JUST like this man. It was odd.

Perhaps the MOST noteworthy thing of the evening was the gathering of 5 loosely aquatinted individuals who sat behind me at the handicapped table. They were all pretty socially retarded, at seemed to have probably met via craigslist. They "broke the ice" by exchanging quotes from the second Austin Powers movie --"do I make you randy babey?"--and they all laughed. Loudly. They continued to talk over each other as if this Friday night was the most human interaction any of them had all week. I'd been more annoyed with them, if I wasn't so familiar with this plight. They eventually focused their conversing to board games of the past, and how much they loved them. This conversation lasted about 45 minutes, and seemed to have covered every single board game from UNO to Hungry Hungry Hippos. Then, a latecomer to the group arrived. She was a woman who was probably in her late thirties to mid forties? I assumed she was single--I assumed they were all singe! She surprised the group (and the entire Starbucks) with the board game of the evening: OPERATION. As the presentation of the board game continued, I began to connect their dots: This was their weekly social event: Friday night board games at the local Starbucks. I'll admit, I could relate a bit to the group, as I don't really go out much on the weekends, as I usually spend my time with my school projects. By the end of my time at Starbucks, I was ready to smash that fucking board game through each and every one of their faces. As the game intensified, so did the volume of their sad victorious cheers.

By 9:45, I had packed up my laptop and was on my way out the door. Don't get me wrong, I have played many a board game on the weekends throughout the past year. They usually involved alcohol and my own set of rules. But nothing like I experienced at Starbucks on Friday night!

My gay soapbox

2008-01-14T23:39:00.000-05:00

For one of my classes this quarter I have to develop a 30,000 word book on any topic of my choice. I've decided to do my book on homosexuality. The point of the book is to give gay men a healthier approach to their sexuality. I choose this topic because I think that self-hatred and internal homophobia is a reoccurring theme in the lives of many gay men in America. Today's social climate can easily be said to be "more accepting" of homosexuality then ten years ago. While this may be true, I believe there is a lot more work to be done if gay men ever want to be viewed as more than just a bunch of silly fashion experts parading around with rainbow flags. In other words, I think there is a true chance that gay men and women can be eventually looked upon as an "us" rather than a "them".

One could argue that shows like Will & Grace and Queer Eye For the Straight Guy have worked wonders for the gay community, by putting them in public view and pulling them out of the proverbial closet. While there is truth to this statement, I don't think it's enough. These shows simply took existing stereotypes within the gay community, repackaged it, and sold back to audiences. I"ll admit, that as I was going through my own coming out, I felt an odd obligation to these stereotypes. I think many gay men lack the ability to fully develop their identity because their sexuality becomes the strongest, most influential part of their personal development.

A few months ago I went to a local gay bar in Atlanta with a bunch of friends. My friend M and I looked around the bar and she made a very relevant observation: all the guys seem to look and act the same. In this one observation she totally pin pointed the most frustrating thing I feel about the gay "community". There are so many gay men out there who simply haven't developed themselves past their sexuality, and, as a result have seemed to completely loose who they are as people. I know many many men who "suffer" from this, and they eventually end up resenting the gay community and lamenting the whole bar scene.

It's been my experience that the gay community is really only a community if you follow certain guidelines and stereotypes. Stereotypes that seem to be set by a fraction of gay men, yet reinforced and perpetuated by the masses--both gay and not gay. The result for those who do not fit this criteria is often pushed into further isolation from other gay guys, or "cornered" into a different "category" of this community we call gay. For example, there is a whole "BEAR" culture that exists within the gay community. You could easily describe a "bear" of a guy to be somewhat overweight and hairy--hence the term "bear". Then you have the antithesis of this in what is referred to as a Twink in the gay community. A twink is a slim guy raging from 18-23 years old, has bleached blond hair, 0% body fat as well as 0% body hair. Most bears and most twinks don't really get along (at least in my experience). I never quite understood why these two group of guys don't get along. But it happens. A LOT!

It's because of these ridiculous social dynamics within the gay community that leads me to believe there's got to be a healthier way to be gay. It doesn't have to be about who fits in where and on what terms. In my opinion, being part of a gay community should be about being there for one another when other people in your lives can't be there for you. It should mean that you can turn to the gay community for help and support when the rest of the world can't quite relate to your personal struggles. It shouldn't mean that we further divide ourselves into categories and further alienate ourselves from one another. I like to think that if the gay community was able to be more open to each other, then maybe we wouldn't have the suicide rate that we have. And maybe guys would think twice before using crystal meth or any other drug for that matter. And finally, it could mean that we could all simply be ourselves, without feeling like we have to fit into some bullshit category.

It's hard enough to be openly gay in our world today. But it's even harder to be gay within the gay community.

There really isnt't a good title for this one...

2008-01-07T00:48:00.000-05:00

PREFACE: I've had a little bit to drink tonight....

I love nights like tonight. As cliched as it may sound, I feel like I'm on the verge of a new great phase of my life--there have been so many!!! But right now, tonight, I love being at school, and I love all the people I've met and the bonds that have been formed. There's truly nothing like it. So often, I look back on the first day that we were all crammed into one room. We sat as complete and total strangers. I never thought that I would come to love so many people in one room! Maybe it's because these people see me the same way I see myself. Or maybe it's because the last year has been a year of complete awakening and everything just looks better through these lenses! Regardless of the reason, I have met some completely amazing people here at school.

I find myself now at the beginning of my sixth quarter. This happened so quickly. It's amazing what you can accomplish in one year. I can only imagine what will happen this year. It's like I have a much more clear, defined idea of what I want my life to be after this is all said and done. Not only do I know what I want it to be, but I feel like I have the tools and the talent to make it happen. The odd thing is that it doesn't seem so far out of reach. It's like sometimes I see it in other people. And I look at them and think that I am on my way to living that.

As I get reacquainted with my life in Atlanta, it's impossible not to reflect on the past decade that got me to where I am today. It's all a combination of the some of the best and absolute worst decisions I've ever made. What's weirder is that spending time in Virginia over the break afforded me the opportunity to physically revisit the birthplace of said decisions! I spent an afternoon in Richmond--where I spent most of my undergraduate days. There's an allure to that city that's hard for many to pass up. It's small, quaint, and extremely affordable. But it's fraught with limits and narrow-minded attitudes. I describe much of my experience in Richmond to be dark, cold, and lonely. To revisit the city as the person I am today turned out to be so haunting. I have absolutely no desire now to return to that city. I eventually made it back up to Northern VA. It's about 2 hours north of Richmond, but is clearly worlds away. The same haunting feeling rushed back as I drove past my old office and my old apartment. Such sadness. Being back up in Northern VA again only solidified in my mind that I will never have to live there again. I know not why I feel the need to bring this up, but as I mentioned in my preface--I've had a bit to drink tonight!

I bought a new area rug for my workspace today. I completely love this rug. It's taken me a year to justify this purchase. I know if my father were to find about this new purchase I would never hear the end of it! That's why if/when he comes to visit, I'll have to tell him it's my new roommate's rug! But this rug is awesome. It's 100% wool. And as weird as it may sound, the way I feel tonight can be equated with the way it feels to walk across a brand new rug in new socks. There's such a soft comforting feeling that you get. And it'll only last for a little while. So you had better take notice, or it will pass right over you. And be lost forever.

2008-01-03T10:32:00.001-05:00

Please excuse the ugly color palate!! In the middle of updating the blog, I was called away to help with some usless chore before I depart!

Vacation...

2007-12-30T12:44:00.000-05:00

Let's see, now that I'm averaging about one blog entry a month, there seems to be a lot to recap. I'm sitting in a local coffee shop in Fredericksburg, VA. To my left is a small family of four. They're sipping their oversized lattes while snacking on their Pepperidge Farm Cookies, which they've "snuck" into the coffee shop--the way my friends and I used to sneak junk food into a movie. They're reading from the Bible, while the homeless man to my right struggles to keep his eyes open. Oh wait, he's not homeless, just dirty. I'm not sure what his deal is. All I know is that when I asked him if I could please plug my laptop into the outlet behind his feet, he didn't understand what I was asking, and unnecessarily removed himself from the seat, while I went about my task.

Ahh, yes. Fredericksburg. I love to hate this town. I sometimes think of this town as the place where possibilities go to die. The town has so much potential to be a great little place, complete with real downtown shops where you can buy things you actually need. I can see stores like Banana Republic and GAP lining the historic streets of the town, but disguised with aged columns, and heavy doors. But instead, they just have antique stores lining the streets, with the occasional bar or restaurant stuck between everything. The demographics of the area aren't compatible with the target market for Banana Republic or GAP. The local shopping mall has just removed Express from its line up. Golf courses have been converted into strip malls that compete for space with the new-construction neighborhoods. There only real place to buy things is a little dream the lcoals call "Central Park". This former golf course is now a paved grid littered with stop lights and SUVS. You have your pick of 30 different chain restaurants and "specialty stores" like TOTAL WINE or the Big Screen TV store. They have a store selling only batteries, or just vitamins. I find it very annoying and gross.

It's always a bit exhausting whenever I visit VA. There's just so much personal history to this place. There's like an entire decade's worth of struggles everywhere I look. It's sometimes hard for me to maintain my current state of mind while navigating through everything. But I guess that's just the way it is.

Apple

2007-10-31T10:34:00.000-04:00

Okay, so I'm going out on limb and blogging about my roommate (again!) For the sake of "preserving" his reputation, Let's just refer to him as Apple (the same way Gwyneth Paltrow refers to her baby)!

So Apple has been camping out on the couch for like the past 4-6 weeks. And when I say camping, I mean stretched out on the couch from about 4:00 in the afternoon to about 11:30 the next morning. Now, I've fallen asleep on the couch numerous times, most of which were a result of alcoholic indulgences and maybe boredom, so I totally understand an occasional bed-vacation on the couch. However, Apple would fall asleep on the couch, wake up, walk upstairs, retrieve his pillow-comforter combo, and return to the couch to make a night out of it. This probably wouldn't bother me as much if I weren't such a fucking morning person! I thought this roommate dynamic may work because our natural time schedules are opposite--in other words, he's a night person and I'm a morning person. So by default, we would rarely see each other. But when these two time-table worlds collide, someone is bound to get their feelings hurt. And my god--did they ever!

Last week, I had enough of tip toeing around so as to not disturb his invasive slumber! I went about my 8:00 AM routine as if he were not loudly snoring on the couch. I successfully woke up him up while unloading the dishwasher, thus making my passive aggressive intentions known. For the record, I've attempted to discuss his odd sleeping habits so that I may understand them, and maybe work around them. These conversations don't typically get very far. To put it bluntly, Apple is pretty dumb. And that's the nicest way I know to put it. By about 10:00 AM I'm on my second cup of coffee and well into my itunes mix of the hour. As apple pounded away on his laptop, I poured over ideas of how to fix this cushion-crushing situation so that both parties involved are happy. And then...a revelation: We'll move his TV into his room. This solution, while not ideal, has remedied similar roommate conflicts in the past. We could create a retreat for him, a new world, an oasis!! So I perked my shaved little head up, turn to dumb-apple and pitch my idea to him.

His head shot up within my first spoken syllable. As he starred at me blankly (which may just be his natural relaxed look) I could feel my optic nerves start to shutter as if my stare was burning a hole into his forehead! He attempted to explain why he continues to sleep on the couch. He started with "well, it's not the TV that keeps me on the couch..." Without thinking or even understanding what was happening, he completely turned the conversation around to recount the events from the day before that led to his couch-camping.

With one solid thought, I finally realized that he doesn't understand why I'm talking to him about his sleeping habits. He has confused my curiosity with interest. To him, this conversation was an opportunity for him to share his life with me. To me this conversation was a bullet in my head, or rather, the head of the roommate dynamic I tried in vein to preserve. I knew what I had to do. I didn't want to do it. Apple is fragile, needy, and sensitive. He knows not of his awkwardness, or inappropriate behavior. But I had to make a choice: preserve the integrity of my environment and crush his hope of he and I becoming best friends forever or continue to listen to his pointless mind-numbing stories and vent my frustrations later over dinner with friends!?

I choose to preserve the integrity of my environment and crushed his hope of finding everlasting friendship in this little apartment world. After listening to him go on about nothing, I walked over to the couch and pretended to discover that the couch cushions, where he once slept so peacefully, had been disproportionally crushed by his massive body weight. I quickly adopted an innocent yet amused demeanor as I pointed out the obvious crushed cushion. He delivered in his defense yet another blank stare. My optic nerve pulsated, and without thought, I exclaimed "IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH TOO MUCH!!!" He immediately became flustered and he examined the cushions. I just continued to stare. He looked straight into my eyes and could feel the contempt I had been harboring for the past 4 months melt the skin off his face. I felt like I was controlling his movement with my mind as he quickly tried to gather is comforter and pillow. Tripping over his feet and his words he confessed, "no more sleeping on the couch..." I poured another cup of coffee, sat down at my desk, and breathed a guiltily sigh of relief. The kind of sigh you breath after shooting an animal in the head to put it out of its misery and end its suffering.

It's been almost a week now since our little confrontation. It's almost amusing how quickly our apartment world changed. It reminds me of the final scene in Far and Away when Joseph and Shannon finally claim their plot of land, after fighting off the evil Stephen! The dynamic of the apartment now favors the dynamic I had with my father growing up. We used to walk on eggshells around him so as to not piss him off and get into an argument. But in this case, I've become my father. I manipulated the situation so that I remain in a controlling position within the apartment.

Apple now keeps to himself and stays in his room. Last night, as I was indulging in the 5th season of Six Feet Under, he literally crawled under the television so that he wouldn't hinder my viewing pleasure. This awkward behavior is a perfect example of how Apple's mind operates. He meant well, but just executed his intention is the most irritating and uncomfortable way possible. So I am left feeling good and guilty. Good because, now I know I can keep my work flow in tact, but oh so guilty because I was unable to solve this problem with the diplomacy and sensitivity that Apple so desperately needs.

Breathe Easy Baby!

2007-10-18T22:19:00.001-04:00

So as maybe four of you know, I have been struggling with craft and general bookbinding. But it seems this struggle, at its root, comes from a flawed thought process where I direct frustration and anger within myself, thus complicating the process.

Tonight, during my bookmaking, I joked that I have to breath through my mistakes to prevent myself from overreacting and feeling generally shitty. But it's really not a joke. I've found that with every slip of my ruler or air bubble I find, I really do need to breath through it and it simply becomes more manageable, an in turn somewhat therapeutic. Tonight, after class I feel generally good and optimistic that this looming cloud of bad craft is slowly drifting away (how's that for wordiness!)!!

On another note, I have my first hot-yoga class tomorrow at 9:30!! I'm very excited about this supplement to my existing workout routine. I've heard great things about the class and look forward to the exhaustion!

At long last....

2007-10-18T10:20:00.000-04:00

Alright, here they are...the first two books I've made this week. After all the bitching and moaning:

So, I went through about 400 pieces of paper to get 8 sheets that were cut accurately and folded perfectly. Before I glued, the book was pretty perfect. After I glued, it messed some things up. But I'm taking into class with me, and will be analyzing the craft work CSI style! I do feel less intimidated by the book making process than I did last week when I started. It's only been a week, but I can tell my heart is in the right place, and I will get better. However, if anyone has any gluing tips, please pleas please pass them along!

Pissed Off

2007-10-12T20:58:00.000-04:00

I am so fucking frustrated I could just scream!

I had my first class in book making last night. We made an accordion fold book. It wasn't as hard as I thought. But since I have spent the last fucking 6 + years of my life avoiding all things creative, I do not have a viable skill set to save my life. That said, I thought it would be a GREAT idea for me to try to make another book just like the one I did last night. Thinking, of course, that the more I do this the easier it'll get. BULLSHIT. BULLSHIT. BULLSHIT. The more I do this the angrier and more frustrated I get. For those of you who say that bookmaking is soothing and relaxing, I invite you to spend a few hours in my head, and I assure you'll find that it's all but soothing and relaxing.

As I sit down to even write this blog, I can see and hear the disappointment of my last critique panel as they try not to vomit all over my pathetic attempt at a clamshell box (of which I made FIVE of to try to get it right!!!). I know that as a 5th quarter designer my weak craft is pretty much a sin, as if making a poorly crafted box in your 5th quarter can easily be equated with taking a shit right in the middle of church. This shit comes soooo much easier to everybody else in my quarter. Those who were fortunate enough to embrace their creative side at an early age and cultivate into what it is today can pull shit out of their ass and make a perfectly bound book out of it. It's like for every step they take forward, I have to work twice as hard to just get to where they are, and I seldom feel as though I am on par with them. And I know I shouldn't compare myself to other people, especially people who have been doing this a hell of a lot longer then me. But in this PC culture, I can't help but feel like a lesser designer because I can't fucking glue two sheets of paper together without fucking it up.

So...

2007-10-08T17:23:00.001-04:00

I shaved my head last night. I like this much much better!

Can't F-ing sleep!

2007-10-02T03:52:00.000-04:00

About two hours ago I had a violent nightmare. I've been wide awake staring out of my window--fully alert and completely unable to sleep. I can't recall the nightmare, but it scared me awake. So instead of just watching my clock tick until the alarm goes off, I figured I'd make good use of the time and blog.

The quarter started up again. Boy did it ever. Those who know the PC experience know that you don't know your class schedule until the quarter starts. After you get your schedule, then you can start negotiating which classes you want and which ones you don't want. Before you start to negotiate with the powers that be, you have to first negotiate with yourself. I'm sure that's part of the reason why I'm unable to sleep. My schedule this quarter is HEAVY. I know I need to drop a class, but can't figure out which one. Logically, I know I should to attend each class, and then make my decision based on the information that I get. But I'm so paranoid and anxious about this quarter, that I feel like I need to know exactly what's going on from the start.

It's officially been a year now since I've been at PC. I still know I made the right decision to come down here and do this. But starting the second year has intensified things. We're all more serious, we all have a new set of skills to work with. It's like we're coming out of training and stepping up to the plate, ready to give our a A-game. As I picked up my schedule and recounted the highlights of the break, I noticed a subtle sense of confidence that everyone in my quarter has now. It was kind of humorous to hear the students from the quarters below me ask about the classes that I've already been through. It's like I can offer advice now. It's a great feeling, but also a bit odd, as I know I have more to learn and more to perfect.

I thought it may be a good idea to post some of my favorite pieces of work from the past year. But then I realized that I hadn't pulled everything off my external hard drive that I wanted to post. And since it's like 4:00 in the morning, and I'm still actually laying in bed in hopes of maybe napping before my alarm goes off. I'll post what I have:

From second quarter: Parts of my comic book--for Intro to design history:

From 3rd quarter: roost covers--publication design/ roost is a magazine that I came up with to celebrate living in small spaces--spreads to be posted soon!

There are a few things missing that are worth posting.... but for now, this is it.

Car of the week: Audi A4

2007-09-21T08:47:00.000-04:00

So I've been slacking off with the car of the week. My apologies to the three people that read my blog.

That said, this week's car of the week is the Audi A4. I have LOVED this car since I first went with my parents to test drive one back in 1997. I have a very clear memory of being at the well appointed Audi dealer in Palm Springs, CA. There was a beautiful woman that worked as a salesperson at the dealer. As they pulled the Champagne colored A4 in front of us, the woman smiled at me and said "this is a sharp car!" My reaction to this was "OMG, rich people use the word sharp!" Unfortunately, the A4 was way too small for a family of six. We did test drive the larger A6, but it was WAY too expensive at the time. Alas, we ended up getting a 1997 VW Passat. A much more affordable and comparable sedan to the A4. (The original body style of the A4 shared the same platform with the 97 VW Passat) Sigh.

But I digress. It wasn't until 2000 that an Audi A4 Quattro appeared in the front driveway of my parents house. But it was my older sister's car. No joke, I used to stand in front of the car just taking in the soft beautiful lines of the design. I'd walk around the perimeter of the car to see how many pieces of sheet medal were used, and how they fit on the car. The interior wasn't my choice, as it lacked the life-altering wood trim. But she loved that it didn't have wood trim. The one drawback that I see with the Audi A4, is the amber glow of the interior dashboard lights. I cannot stand this. It pretty much ruins the car for me. I'd prefer a clean white light, similar to that of the interior glow on the latest Honda Accords. Or even (possibly) the yellow glow that Mercedes-Benz uses in their cars. I've pretty much alienated myself from all of the Audi enthusiasts out there by suggesting using styling cues from MB or...*gasp* Honda...... but I stand by my suggestion. I just don't know that I can get passed the red amber.

Here's a visual history of the Audi A4 from its inception in 1994 to the latest 08 Model. You may also enjoy more personal opinions of each redesign!

1995-2001

2001-20005

THIS IS MY FAVORITE BODY STYLE to date! I LOVE how they took the soft lines of the previous generation, and made them more aggressive and sharp. If you look closely at the 2002 Passat, they have similar front fascia lines around the headlights! Beautiful!

2004-2007

HATE IT HATE IT HATE IT HATE IT. It looks like a pig.

2008-present

They recovered nicely from the previous generation. I sat in one the other day when I went to pick up the VeeDub from the dealer. VERY nice. This design has renewed my love for the Audi A4. (However, there is a slight design flaw in the interior of the 08 A4: When the parking break is up, the center console cannot be completely down. It's as if they were trying to fit a 3 foot wall into a 2 foot space. Not cool Audi. Not Cool.)

Cocktail Party Personna: A Personal Revelation

2007-09-16T13:08:00.001-04:00

In the wake of my fourth quarter, I have discovered a little something about myself. I was debating for a while if I should blog about this. But I'm finding that the more I talk about it with friends and family, the easier it gets, and the more real if feels. So here it goes.

I finished my fourth quarter last week. And so ends an entire year at the Portfolio Center. I feel okay. Well...okay isn't really a feeling. I feel disappointed. Disappointed in myself. I've realized that for this whole year, I haven't been 100% honest with my work. Don't get me wrong, all the work that I've done is all mine. But I haven't been putting 100% of myself in my work. In short, I've been holding back, keeping a safe distance from my work. This same mentality is true for a lot of things in my life. Friendships, relationships, performance at work, keeping my room clean, things like that. I've realized that I really put up a "cocktail party persona" most of the time that I'm out and about, be it at school, in most classes, or even when I'm at a party. For the past year, I've been designing with this cocktail party persona in mind. And it has shown in most of my work. I think I've gotten lucky with a few cool projects. But on a whole, I know I'm holding back, and I'm hiding behind this cocktail party persona.

I've blogged a few times about how I haven't had a real relationship in seven years, going on eight now. And I think I've finally figured out why. Fear. I am so scared to be who I really am. There's a big part of me that's actually homophobic. A lot of the time, I feel like people are uncomfortable being around the gay guy, so I feel like I have to make it okay for everyone to be around me by making self-depricating jokes, or just being a caricature of myself. It's truly exhausting to do that all the time. In fact, I've done it so much, that I've actually lost sight of who I really am. To be honest, without that persona, it's so hard to be who I really am. I think I come across as generally friendly and up beat, fun to be around and things like that, which are good things to be. But I fool myself into thinking that's how I always need to be. And in thinking this, I have taught myself to hate myself.

So it's with this discovery in mind, that I go into my second year at Portfolio Center. I feel like now it's time to get serious, and truly give my organic self to my work. I can't say that I won't assume that cocktail party persona. I think it'll take some time before that goes away completely. But the only way I know to make that go away, is to be truly honest with myself and with other people. To do things for myself, that mean something to me. For example, I've always wanted to keep a little notebook with inspirational things in them. Like companies that I'd like to work for, or artists that I'd like to know more about. And I've never taken the time to do it. I intend to learn how to make a book like this from scratch, just for me. But for the meantime, I've purchased one from Pearl. It's not bad. It just feels flat and impersonal. One of my mini-projects for the break, is to make this little book personal.

I'm still excited about being here and being this PC world. I just think from now on, I'll be able to give myself over to the work, and to myself.

It Happened Again!

2007-08-30T18:24:00.000-04:00

While kicking ass on the treadmill this morning, listening to Madonna's "I'm Going To Tell You A Secret" live album, I was straining to sing along (out loud) while sprinting a 8.30 minute pace. All of a sudden this big muscular guy walked into the Colonial Homes workout room. I was totally caught!!!!! The only thing I could do was smile and pretend like the whole thing didn't happen!

Sadly, this isn't the first time this has happened to me! Why haven't I learned this tough lesson yet :)

Car of the Week

2007-08-28T10:14:00.000-04:00

My first car of the week is the 1989 Merkur Scorpio! Woo Hoo!!!!

The Merkur Scorpio was a North American version of the European Scorpio Mk. The car was offered at select Lincoln-Mercury dealerships from 1988–1990. It was offered as a luxury executive type car. However, the Scorpio was also plagued by auto transmission troubles, electrical gremlins, and a wide range of reliability issues which hurt its luxury image with consumers. The failure of the Scorpio can be blamed on the Mercury Sable, as it looked very similar, was sold on the same showroom floors, and was considerablly cheaper and just about as equipped. Ford dropped the Merkur nameplate altogether after 1989. The car continued to sell in the UK and went through several name changes and design updates.

It was my dream at one point to go overseas and buy the latest redesigned Scorpio model.

I choose it as my first car of the week because it was the first car I ever bought. I got it for $2500.00! Well technically, my dad helped me pay for half of it, but I did end up paying him back. That car saw me through some tough times during my first semester of college! I pampered that car more than anything else in my life! No joke! On the weekends, I would condition the leather, vacuum the interior, and wash the outside. I used to take an ATM card, wrap it around a paper towel, and go through every nook and cranny of the car and remove all traces of dirt. I even changed the engine coolant on my own. However, I did it in the parking lot of my school, which is actually illegal. Sadly, the car started to suffer from my love of driving it. The electrical system started to break down, and there was something terribly wrong with the front wheel axle. It eventually needed about $1500 worth of work to keep it going, and as a freshman in college I certainly couldn't afford it. So one dark night, I went online, posted an ad to sell the car, and had a "cult"-buyer contact me within one week. I sold the car for $3000. I made a quick $500.00 on the sell, but I had to give $1,000 back to my dad, and $1,000 to my mom (b/c of a phone bill I wracked up during my first months at college!!). But I got to keep $500 of it!! And bought myself a Gateway Computer!!!

A&F

2007-08-28T10:08:00.000-04:00

So at the beginning of the quarter, Abercrombie & Fitch came to PC to present students with the opportunity to apply for an internship. We had two days to learn what the guys at A&F learned in 2 years! Needless to say it was a lot of information to take in at once. But I think as a whole, everyone did a pretty good job. Here are the shirts that I did.

2007-08-27T09:43:00.000-04:00

This past weekend I took a little time to myself and indulged in one of my favorite movies EVER: The Transporter (1 and 2). These movies are not about the plot line or the acting. No. These movies are all about the CARS! Transporter 1 featured the 1999 BMW 750iL (however, in the movie the car is referred to at the BMW 735iL).

Transporter 2 featured the 2005 Audi A8--a very sexy car!

Watching these movies reminded me of how much I really love cars. And that got me thinking about when I first started to learn about cars:

it was 1994 and I was living in Newport, RI (one of my favorite places to have ever lived!)

I was a freshman in high school and really didn't know much about anything. One afternoon, a few of my friends and I had stayed late after school, and we were all waiting to be picked up. My good friend CJ's mom was the first to pull up. Her mom drove a very classy 1994 Jaguar XJ.

I had no idea what a Jaguar even was or what it meant. My friend had to tell me that it was a very expensive car. That's really when my awareness of cars in general began to come about. In June of 1995, we moved to Yucca Valley, CA.

One night, I was with my siblings at the local grocery store (VONS) and picked up Consumer Report's best/worst cars for 1996. I ended up buying the magazine and reading it cover to cover. This was really the first time I ever remember being completely engaged with something so intently. From there I started buying Motor Trend magazine. Eventually my mom got me a subscription to it. I pretty much had a Motor Trend magazine with me at all times. We used to have to travel all over Southern CA for my younger siblings soccer games and I would always read the MT magazine while on the road. It was exciting for me to read about the latest and greatest BMW, and then actually see one on the road!

This was also the time when I began my driver's training/education. Naturally I assumed that my parents were going to get me a car of my own. I used to read the car ads in the Sunday paper and try to convince my parents to buy me cars. The summer of my Junior year in high school, I pitched a huge fit because my parents would buy me a BMW 318ti!

It was the cheapest BMW you could buy at the time. It retailed at $19,999. And somehow, in my little mind, I thought: "well it's under $20,000! it must be affordable!" Clearly, I had no concept of money, and my parents would just laugh every time I brought it up. I used to call up car manufactures and ask for brochures. They would usually send them, and I would take them apart and hang up my favorite car pictures all over my room. I even "designed" all of my school notebooks with collages of my favorite cars.

So all of this said. I have decided to start a weekly posting called: Car of the Week. Where I will blog about whatever car I like the most for that particular week. Or whatever car I hate the most for that particular week!

I have a Paris Hilton song on my ipod.

2007-08-22T20:35:00.000-04:00

Yes. Its true. Slightly shameful. But true.

I like to think that my music selection is pretty eclectic and diverse. I have everything ranging from the Bram Stoker's Dracula Soundtrack to Mary J. Blige to....well Paris Hilton. Music has always played a big role in my life. Remembering a song is like holding onto a memory. I associate ALL OF my music with something from my life. I even have certain songs that I can only listen to during a certain season. For example, Tori Amos's From The Choirgirl Hotel will forever remind me of driving my 1989 Merkur Scorpio home for my first winter break during my freshmen year of college. The connection with that album is so strong, that it can sometimes make me feel cold. It's really amazing.

So in what capacity will this Paris Hilton song have on me? Well... for starters, it currently resides in my FIFTH work out mix on the ipod. It's the second song on the playlist. The pace of the rhythm fits perfectly with the beginning phase of my work outs. It's up beat, not too clubby, and generally happy. I kid you not-- listening to this song while running, actually helps with the releasing of endorphins! The only downfall to this is if i listen to it too much, then it will loose its affect hence my on-going search for fun, not too clubby workout music. I usually have to make a new work out mix every couple of weeks to keep things interesting! Madonna has come out with some great live albums, which are REALLY fun to listen to when working out. I find the loud applause to be particularly inspiring!

If You Can't Say Something Nice About Someone...then blog about it

2007-08-13T09:46:00.001-04:00

Okay not really...because if you do blog some bad shit about someone, I'm sure it'll come back and bite you in the ass....

But I woke up this morning just itching to blog about New Roommate. For those who don't know, my old roommate and I had to part ways, as his beautiful fiance has relocated herself and her life to Atlanta, and the three of us in one Colonial Homes Apartment (plus two cats) just wasn't going to work. So they now reside in their new apartment at Peachtree Park--complete with large kitchen, two bathrooms, and all new appliances! I have to say that despite the inconvenience of switching roommates and the changes involved in that, it's pretty cool to see how the two of them are starting their life together.

So I am now reinventing the wheel with New Roommate. I've never really had a major problem with roommates. Living up in Washington, DC with a just-out-of-college-salary required me to learn quickly how to get along and live with strangers. My favorite roommate was the guy I lived with in DC. I rented a room in his beautifully renovated townhouse for a whopping $800.00/mo (for a ROOM!) To this day, he is someone that I consider to have had a pretty positive impact on my way of thinking. He was very wealthy for starters. He made a boat load working as some type of computer program consultant, but also had a bit of blue blood in him! But you would never know it if you just saw him on the street. He lived a very "under the radar" type of life. He also helped me get a job interview up in NYC at BBDO! Turns out his ex-bf is an AE on the Mountain Dew account! He showed me the ropes of the gay-dc life. He was pretty much like an older brother to me. He now lives in Hells Kitchen in NYC.

After my stint with DC life, I switched jobs and ended up in the suburbs of DC--or "outside the grid" as some of the more pretentious dc gays refer to it.... It was here that I got a chance to live in a $1 million home. I rented a room for $775 and had my own bathroom. It was pretty nice. All of the other roommates were gay (three total), but we all pretty much kept to ourselves and had very different lives.

Then there was one of my most favorite roommate that I had when I lived in Fairfax, a place that is in the deeper part of the suburbs of DC. She and I met when I worked for the agency that I was let go from. She and I have the exact same sense of humor and got along great--which is interesting because I typically don't get along well with girls when I live with them. It's almost always ended on a bad note.

So now there is New Roommate. What can I say!? Well nothing really, because it could easily come back and bite me in the ass! But if you have further interest in getting a feel of what New Roommate is like check out the Arrested Development, and pay particular attention to Buster!

Modern Marvels: We're All Gonna Die

2007-08-08T04:46:00.000-04:00

I made the mistake of watching the History Channel's documentary about the prophetic end to time and the world as we know it. Complete with computer animation, ominous music, and a deep-voiced narrator, this macabre infotaining television program informed me of my own demise. My first thought: "well I guess it really won't kill me to have a Wendy's #4, no onions, with a coke because the earth will pretty much swallow me whole!" The "documentary" went on to inform me that the Mayan calendar actually stops on December 12, 2012. There is also an ancient chinese book called the I Ching (not be confused with iching) that also stops on this same date. Scientists have predicted that the earth will engage in a polar shift causing the entire inside of the earth to quake and turn. It's safe to say that after hearing about all of this I was pretty much freaked out because this would all take place when I'm 32!

Then again, there have been prophetic predictions of the world's demise for as long as stupid people are willing to believe other morons. We all remember the Y2K scare!? But to further illustrate this point, here are a list of other dates that world was supposed to have ended, according to an article in the New York Times Magazine by BENJAMIN ANASTAS (7/1/07):

Gnostics predicted the imminent arrival of God’s kingdom as early as the first century
Christians in Europe attacked pagan territories in the north to prepare for the end of the world at the first millennium
The Shakers believed the world would end in 1792
There was a “Great Disappointment” among followers of the Baptist preacher William Miller when Jesus did not return to upstate New York on Oct. 22, 1844.
The Jehovah’s Witnesses have been especially prodigious with prophetic end dates: 1914, 1915, 1918, 1920, 1925, 1941, 1975 and 1994.

I even found the "official website" of the world's end: www.december212012.com And be sure to check out the online store, where you can purchase several well designed t-shirts that say things like 12.21.12 or "Shift Happens"--I wish I could've sat in on that meeting!!! Also available on messenger bags, baseball caps, tank tops, and jersey-shirts that looks like old baseball uniforms. Unbelievable!

I can just picture some dumbass at an amusement park wearing one of these shirts and eating a giant turkey leg!

Blog? What Blog...

2007-08-07T08:18:00.000-04:00

So it's been 2 1/2 months...... pretty much all of third quarter since I've blogged. It was a generally shitty quarter, and that's all I have to say about that!

Let's discuss the latest assignment in the Cross-Cultural Innovations class, or CCI--if you want to sound like a government employee, which is always fun for me!!!

So first, some back-story on the class: We have weekly assignments, and we never know what they're going to be. So far, we've had to go to a random place in Atlanta, do some ethnographic research on a classmate (MY FAVORITE!!!!), and bake a cake of our ambition. This is class is amazing! It challenges my thought process on a daily basis.

The assignment that I am currently working on now is by far the biggest and hardest, and has taken me to a place in my emotional mind that I haven't been in a long long time. Basically we have to identify our greatest fear, and come up with a way to make peace with that fear.

FEAR

So my greatest fear is the fear of rejection. Which really comes from feeling that I'm not good enough. This fear has constantly held me back in many ways. But it's affected me most in my approach to relationships, or lack there of. I always pursue relationships from the sidelines and never get into the game. That's got to be the least productive way to do anything. (and maybe one of the most cliched analogies EVER)

AN HONEST SEVEN YEARS

My father's behavior towards me growing up could easily be classified as abusive. I know that it felt like he had destroyed my soul and really taught me how to hate myself. But whenever I start thinking about this, which is happening more frequently these days, I always have to stop and remind myself that my father loves me. I say that because I know I have to. I know that his behavior wasn't malicious, or hateful. It's not like he woke up one day and said, "man I hate my kids, let's see if I can go break their spirits today"..... it just sort of happened, slowly.

If he ever got mad, or stressed out, that emotion would often turn violent or angry very quickly. He would do something to get it out, throw something, hit something, or cuss and then it would be over, and we would act as if it had never happened. For example, one night when I was a senior in high school, he wanted me to write an essay for a scholarship that was being given away by our church. The essay had to be about what God means to me and how religion has influenced my life. I remember thinking that God really didn't mean much to me--it was my father's version of religion that was forced fed to me to the point that it stopped having meaning, and eventually became a chore. It was never about feeling spiritual. So I told him that I wasn't going to write it. He got mad, we both started yelling, and he ended it by slamming my back into the thermostat in the hallway. I don't know if he knew that's what he had done. But he was angry, he had to get it out, so he did. And then went on like nothing had happened.

So the past seven years have been about rebuilding myself and changing the inner dialog I have from my father's voice to my voice. Not a lot of people know this about me. My family knows the least about it. It's hard. And it's because of this rebuilding of myself, that I haven't felt that being in a relationship was the right thing. I've been re-establishing a better relationship with myself. I know I'm a lot better off today then I was this time of year, seven years ago. And I do feel like I have a lot more to offer someone now then before. But this fear of rejection continues to hold me back. So does this mean that I'm going to ask out one of the many guys I find myself attracted to in an effort to move past where I am now, and offer a truce to my fear!? well.... no.... at least I don't feel ready yet. But to be honest, I know there's nothing that can happen to make me feel more ready. All the spray-tan in the world couldn't make me feel ready. It's really just one of those things that you have have to do. It just scares the shit out of me.

Happ Birthday To Me...again

2007-05-14T22:02:00.000-04:00

This past Thursday I endured another birthday, my twenty-seventh. It was great because I didn't really do anything for it, and that's just the way I like it. It seems that you're either a big birthday person or you're not. I am definitely not a big birthday person. My favorite thing to do on my birthday is to go out and buy a few things for myself (usually cologne) and then go test drive a car that I'd like to own one day. This year it was supposed to be Land Rover's latest and greatest--the LR2. Unfortunately, my school work took precedence over this demi-tradition of mine, so it has been postponed until I have free time again (probably in the second week of June).

I'm pretty much okay with being twenty-seven. There's always someone older than me that says I'm still just a baby, and then there are the kids who are younger than me that are unable to remember a time when they couldn't sum up their day with an away message on AOL's Instant Messenger and can't fully comprehend how old twenty-seven really is. I'm actually looking forward to being in my 30s. I have this bizarre idea of what my 30s will be like.

I've always pictured myself married to a great guy and we co-own our renovated 1940s Mediterranean bungalow complete with Spanish iron work and tile roof.

We have a Weimaraner named buck or rufus or something like that.

We like to take fun little 3-day weekend trips in our Land Rover LR

or BMW convertible,

or fully restored 1987 Toyota Land Cruiser (that has somehow been turned into a hybrid that doesn't really need gas)

..... perhaps I should prepare myself for an odd reality check that or a watered down version of this well planned out fantasy-life.

L&S: A Look Back

2007-05-05T13:24:00.000-04:00

In an earlier post (October 2006), I mentioned an agency that I used to work for and hadn't portrayed it in a very positive light. I recently found out that a potential client of theirs had read that post. While I will not be taking down that post anytime soon, I have realized that I have portrayed myself as nothing more than a disgruntled ex-employee. While there is some truth to that, I feel it's equally important to write about what I learned from my experience at Lyons & Sucher.

I interviewed at L&S while I was a senior in college. I was very eager to get out in the real world, sit at a desk, and make spreadsheets everyday. I eventually started working for them in March 2005. I loved it. It's a small shop, but the work that comes out of there is amazing! Their talented staff is complemented very well by their eagle-eyed creative director, Jane Lyons. Anyone whose ever worked for JL knows that she's a tough person to work for. Not because she's mean, or hateful, but because she demands the very best from her staff, and then maybe a little more beyond that. In order to succeed and survive at L&S, you need to be able to reach within yourself and find the very best you have. And you have to do this every day. I wasn't able to do that during that time of my life. I settled for mediocrity, and didn't try to go beyond that. JL eventually saw this in me and pushed me to do better. I, foolishly, misinterpreted this effort, and did the exact opposite. In other words, I cut off my nose despite my face. That quickly landed me in the unemployment line by the time I was 25. That was probably the lowest point of my life. For about a year after that I carried around a great deal of resentment towards JL and towards that company. Hindsight is always 20/20 and I know that the resentment I felt was really for myself. I had no one to blame for what happened there but me. It was my reaction that dictated the outcome.

Working at L&S also helped me realize that I loved the idea of being a methodical person who likes numbers and spreadsheets, and statistics. But in reality, that stuff puts me to sleep. I am much more content with my life now that I am working in design and creating cool things. Working with the talented staff at L&S helped me find that part of myself. Since I've been at The Portfolio Center, I have turned a complete 180 degrees from where I was in 2005. I'm starting to see a little Jane Lyons in myself and in the work that I'm doing. When I sit down to look at piece I've created, or even when I'm critiquing someone else's work, I try to achieve the level of attention to detail that JL puts into every piece of work that walks out the door of that agency. I'll sometimes daydream about what it would be like if I accidentally ran into her on the street and what I would say. In reality, we would probably pretend not to see each other, so as to avoid an awkward hello. But in my day dream, we would grab an ice cream cone and I would tell her that she really made an influence in my life, and that I was sorry that we parted ways in the worst way possible. I also wonder what it would be like if I worked as a designer for her. If we would be able to get along? If she would finally see that I have found a way to do my very best, and then a little more with every project I work on.

I've recently heard a speaker at Portfolio Center who said you haven't truly lived until you've been fired from a job. I am living proof of that. I will never forget my experience at L&S, and in a strange way I am so thankful for having gone through it. Sure there were days when I couldn't even look at my boss because I was so mad. And there were a few quarks about the job that made it difficult to work well in. But EVERY job you ever have will present these idiosyncrasies, and working at L&S helped me understand how to navigate through them (or how NOT to navigate through them). I met some truly wonderful people through that job and they have all touched my life in ways they may never know.

Thursday F---ing Morning

2007-04-26T08:29:00.000-04:00

So last week I accidentally spilled apple juice all over my BRAND NEW macbookpro (the beautiful 17" one). The sheer panic I felt is the type of panic you would feel RIGHT after you just hit someone's car. You wish with all your being that you could redo the last 45 seconds of your life. Man, that's a shitty feeling. So I'm in the process of trying to get that thing fixed. Until then, I will continue to chain myself to my ergonomically awesome work space, and crank out some more work. That said, I'd like to give a little shout out to USAA Insurance for being so awesome with their renter's insurance, as they will cover the cost to replace said computer. I'd also like to give a good ol' FUCK YOU to the representative at APPLE whose inability to answer a simple question ACCURATELY has caused a major headache, and my severe decline in brand loyalty for Apple. Yup, I'm still pretty bitter about this, even though it was totally my negligence that caused this crisis in the first place. But, like my renter's insurance, I thought that buy buying the overpriced AppleCare Portection Plan, that my clumsy ass would be covered.

sigh.

I woke up this morning and realize three wasn't any milk left for my coffee. This is a definite shit-way to start the day. I love coffee in the morning, but i HATE drinking it black. I've been up for maybe 3 hours, and haven't started a single thing! Although writing this blog does make me feel productive. I keep hoping that some little milk-goblin will creep past me with a satchel full of soy milk. I really don't want to get dressed and go to store. That's pretty much the last thing I want to do right now. But I think that's really the ONLY solution to this problem...yup, it's really the only way that I'm going to be able to get milk. Guess I'm done here for now.

To My Mother...

2007-04-20T09:27:00.000-04:00

At about 6:00 this morning, I was working on my publication layout while listening to Patty Griffin. There is one song of hers called "Top of The World" that somehow seemed to capture the very essence of my mother's life, at least one aspect of her life. Out of nowhere the song completely brought me to tears and flooded my mind with a million "what ifs" about her life.

I don't know a whole lot about my mother's life, prior to having kids. But the thing I know most about my mother is that she's the strongest person I've ever known. This is something that cannot be taught. I know that she has passed this strength down to me and my siblings. I think it's the strongest common thread, and the greatest gift that my mother has given us.

The sacrifices she made take my breath away, and inspire me to be a better person. She recently told me about a time right after my youngest brother was born. It was December, 1984, and my father was deployed overseas. My mother was pretty much on her own. About a week after coming home from the hospital, there was a bad cold snap that caused the heating in the house to be shut off. Still bleeding and not fully recovered, my mother chopped firewood and moved the furniture around the fireplace to ensure that we would be okay. She did all of this by herself. There is no doubt in my mind that this is just one of infinite personal sacrifices that she has made for her children. I may not truly know what it's like to have this type of dedicated, unconditional love for someone, but I sure as hell am glad to know that my mother does.

My mother is a very private person, and probably doesn't want her personal stories aired in such a public venue. But I can't help but want people to know how proud I am to have her as my mother. She is dynamic and inspirational. She is strong, but vulnerable. She is the inspiration for a lot of the work that I'm doing this quarter.

My father is very lucky to have my mother in his life. And although he may not be the most emotional or romantic person, I can't help but think that his dedication to her is inspired by her dedication to us. I think this is love in its rawest, truest form. It's pure, unconditional dedication. While he may not sweep her off her feet, or engage in huge romantic gestures, my father owes my mother his life. In the same vein that my siblings and I owe my mother our lives. Because my mother put our needs before her own. I don't know how to repay her for this. How do you do that?

Nearing the end of my seven-minute mile

2007-02-21T21:44:00.000-05:00

So there's about two weeks left of the quarter and I'm feeling pretty burned out. I'm slowly entering an apathetic state of mind where I watch TV and nap on the couch. It's like when you're running on the treadmill and you've only got 5 minutes left and you're about to complete your third mile and you just keep thinking--well I'm sweaty enough now right? But no, you truly have to push yourself to keep the pace and finish what you started. It's the hardest 5 minutes of the day. I'm about to enter the hardest two weeks EVER.

A lot of my work this quarter has involved an incredible amount of emotionally charged material. I'm very happy with just about every project and look forward to seeing them completed (on time!). But I really hope that releasing this emotional energy will allow my next quarter to be bit more light-hearted and fun.

I think I will indulge in some comfort food: a fat juicy Wendy's #4, no onions, with a coke!

Green eggs and Drag Queens

2007-02-20T06:17:00.000-05:00

If I learned one thing this past Sunday it's to never leave home without my camera. Especially when I've been invited to attend a brunch with a bunch of drag queens, strippers, and the drag queen equivalent to groupies. If I had to sum up this experience in one word it would have to be WhatTheFuck!!!

First off, let me premise this explanation by stating that the dude that invited me was very sweet to do so, considering my newness to the gay scene here in Atlanta, but also given my alleged low status in the gay scene. Until Sunday, I wasn't quite aware that I even had a status in the gay scene! Those who know me well know that I pretty much hate the gay scene. I've even blogged about it a few times. Well let me rephrase that, I really don't like to be immersed in it. Sure those boys know how to have a good time, but that's just about it.

So Sunday morning, I find the restaurant, park the car, and walk into the lion's den! Within the first five seconds of approaching the very long table made up of smaller tables that were just pushed together, I am met with about twenty-five matte finished faces all asking the same questions to themselves: who the fuck is that? I approach my inviter who was the head of this super-gay social hour. He introduced to me to everyone around me, and that was pretty much the extent of the conversation that I had with everyone!

Something happens to me when I'm around people like that. I climb back into myself and don't say a word unless there is actually something to say. I'm usually pretty good with the small talk and shmoozing, but such was not the case on Sunday morning. It's fair to say that those at the table with me were probably just responding to my standoffish behavior. It's just that I wasn't able to contribute even small talk to the conversations going on around me, which consisted of hilarious recounts of the night before, gossip on "some tragic queen", or splenda-sweetend comments about someone’s D&G sunglasses. I didn't know any of the clubs they were talking about because I don't really go out that much, I didn't know any of the people they were talking about because they didn't attend Portfolio Center! and I think it's ridiculous to spend $500.00 on sunglasses--or any article of clothing for that matter! Of course I couldn't interject these comments into their conversation, because that would've further alienated myself from the group.

So about a good twenty minutes of eaves dropping on conversations, the six people sitting around me have now moved away from me, breaking off into their own little group, leaving me sitting alone at an empty table. I was panic struck, and refused to move. Probably a mild to moderate case of social anxiety has now set in, and I want to walk out and forget that I even attempted to socialize with the gays! Suddenly, I hear one guy utter "Oh yeah, I'm writing a book on...." excited by the idea of someone working on something involving their mind and not their dick, my eyes shoot over to him as I leaned in to ask "what are you writing a book on!!!?" Only to be met with a dead-pan stare as he informed me that he was being sarcastic--this from that guy that had just spilled his ice water down the right side of my leg ten minutes prior--NICE!

It's clearly not going well when my inviter approaches me and states the obvious "my goodness Kevin, you're quite! You're making me nervous being all quiet. Hey so-and-so, isn't Kevin making you nervous being all quiet over here!!!" It took the force of God's hand covering my mouth to prevent me from letting him know exactly what I was thinking, though my facial expression and body language said it all. It was at this point that one of the guys to my left started mouthing something to me as he smiled. It was hard to make out what he was saying, as he was wearing helmet-like sunglasses that covered 96% of his entire face--yeah it was weird. So I ask him "what!!?--and smile." He then let me know pretty quickly, that he was talking to the person behind me! GREAT!

So now I'm sitting there, feeling pretty humiliated, and I decide that I should just be myself and say fuck it. So I did. And this is what happened. I turn to my inviter and, in jest, ask him "did I see you with a doo rag on the other day?" My accusation was sarcastic yet playful. His faced dropped and eyes pierced mine as he told me "it was stocking cap--not a doo-rag!" "Is there a difference?" I asked. "YES!" A doo-rag is something you tie around your head, a stocking cap just slips over it" he informed me. WELL SHIT. FUCK. WELL ALRIGHT!!

At this point I had nothing to loose so I ordered a very STRONG mimosa and started to drink my way into their club. I suppose the alcohol loosened me up a bit, because before the brunch was over, I was chatting with one of the guys about his $12.00 hat from Target and puffing on a cigarette. I had given in. I assumed the role that I hate to be, which is caddy, chatty, gay. My conversations started by asking "OMG, where did you get those shoes, they're fucking great!" Bla Bla Bla! I guess is some social situations we always have to alter ourselves just to "make it through the hour" but man I really fucking hate that shit.

I don't think I'll be asked back to Sunday brunch!

Hard Things vs. Easy Things

2007-02-15T09:31:00.000-05:00

Hard thing: Blogging on a regular basis

Okay first off--MAD props to those who keep their blog updated on a regular basis! Finding the time to do it every day is pretty much not happening for me this quarter. I'm much more focused on the work this time around. Some particular mad props go out to to Trochlle and Minus5 for keeping their blogs updated ALWAYS! (I apologize for not inserting links to their blogs--still haven't figured out how to do it!) While the act of blogging is fun and self-fulfilling, finding the time to sit down and do it is easier said than done.

Easy Thing: Working out and eating right

So for the past, oh, two years I've been swinging back and forth from eating really well and running every day to feasting on Luck Charms while using my entire body as upholstery for my couch (usually watching Alias DVDs!) I'm pretty much okay with this too. I enjoy both time-fillers equally, and I think it's important to indulge in the Luck Charms and Alias DVDs, as long as it's not excessive. For the past two weeks I've been on the eat-right-and-run-a-lot side of the pendulum. And it's getting a little easier each time, probably because I feel more motivated then I've ever felt in the past two years. I'm pretty convinced that this new found motivation to physically improve myself is the positive affect of attending PC and investing my emotions and thoughts into my work. attending PC is like drinking green tea for me. Green tea helps clear out all of the toxins in your body. Attending PC has given me the opportunity (and permission) to clear out all the "emotional toxins" of my mind. Now that sounds pretty drug-store psycology-like. Probably because it is! But nonetheless, it's how I'm feeling.

Hard Thing: Taking the trash out

I HATE TAKING THE TRASH OUT! I just hate doing it. The way the apt. complex is set up, there's only one place to empty throw trash away, and it's on the other side of the property. Granted, the other side of the property is about 200 yards from my front door, but it's still a PAIN IN THE ASS! Not to mention that attending PC has also increased the amount of trash I "consume"--i.e. paper scraps and ink cartridge packaging. I wish that the city of Atlanta could remove my trash from my front door for me.

Hard Thing: doing laundry

I hate it. I just hate it. Now I know the CoHo Apartments will do it for free, all I have to do is drop it off, but you can only do one load a day, and I'm more of a do-it-all-at-once type of launder.

Easy Thing

Buying songs on itunes! I love how easy it is. but i hate how easy it is. because i spend a lot of money on there. Since my itune's inception into my life in 2004 I have spent about $1,000 on music. Which, I don' think is too bad over the course of three years. That's about $333.00 a year on music. Not bad! Thanks itunes!!

Hard thing: defining my lower-abs

OUCH! that shit is hard and it's not fun while I'm doing it! but it does feel great afterwards!

Hard thing: figuring out how to check the power steering fluid levels in my beloved VW. Yes, I've checked the manual and there's nothing in it that alludes to how to check it. I'm just going to have to roll up to the dealer and ask; then i'll have to figure out a way to grow my balls back!!

Hard thing: killing roaches:

every now and then I'll find a roach--it's almost always already dead. But last night this shitter was alive and kicking. and I freaked out!! A LOT. I grabbed the 409 and soaked the bitch! It JUST died this morning. I hate it.

2007-01-22T23:42:00.000-05:00

Soccer practice

I found this tonight and thought it was hillarious! Still haven't written any poetry yet........maybe I can use this!

I don't want to title this one

2007-01-22T19:27:00.000-05:00

I feel like this day didn't happen, and yet it's actually still happening. I got up at 8:30 and worked on stuff until 1:00--when I had class. After class, Roommate and I went to Panera for dinner. I'm sick of Panera, but it's closest to the apartment without being fast food for Firehouse subs. So we go there. For about 70% of the time that roommate and I are physically in the building, there was this overweight 30-something man pacing the floor of the restaurant while talking on his phone via his too-hot-to-trot Bluetooth ear bud piece. I hated him the whole time I was in the building! He had a stomach so large that it would it certainly impair any attempt to pee standing up. His hair was shellacked firmly to his head. I'm sure he was aware that he was annoying every living thing around him, but for whatever reason, felt compelled to continue his workday at 6:00 PM over a strawberry Danish. If at the end of every day I feel mentally exhausted from all of the thumbnails and bad ideas, I can at least sleep soundly knowing that I will never be like that fat fat man in Panera.

I've decided to stop trusting the weather information provided by my custom google-homepage. According to
weather-google, today was suppose to be 50 degrees. But it was much colder than 50 degrees. Today was cold, wet, and cloudy. It was the perfect setting for a Jennifer Jason-Leigh movie. On days like this I like to pretend that I'm in a thriller mystery movie where I'm being chased and have to rely on my intuition to out smart the chasers. Eventually, I end up in a high speed chase through the streets of any given city. The only thing is my car isn't really a "car-chase" kind of car. It is for this reason that I miss my 1997 Dodge Intrepid. Now that was a good "car-chase" car.

I'd like to take this moment to give a little shout out to my mom for finally sending me some of my Christmas presents! They arrived today--Styrofoam peanuts and all. Maybe in another almost-month I'll get the rest of them :)

I am very thirsty now. So I will go to the laundry room and get a Mountain Dew.

38 days later...

2007-01-17T14:15:00.000-05:00

I typically get bored easily when reading about other people's relationship problems. So if that's not your scene--you should wait another 38 days for another post!

But I need to get something off my chest:

I have been single for seven years. Yup--SEVEN years. I had always thought that my 20's are a time for self-reflection and a time to "figure myself out". This has always been the excuse I give myself and other people if the topic of relationships come up. I always pity those who marry early and vow to myself that I will not marry until I am in my 30's (provided that the federal government removes the stick from their ass and will let me legally do it). But upon further reflection of my happy single hood I've found that it has very little to do with self-reflection, and everything to do with fear.

In its most basic form I fear rejection--bla bla bla who doesn't!? But given certain events from my not-too-distant past, the word rejection doesn't even come close to quantifying what it is I fear. In other words, there are so many other emotions and meanings attached to the word rejection--it's complex and dependent on so many varying factors that I don't even know that I could map them all out if I tried.

So here's a recap of a personal conversation I'll have with myself--also called lies that I tell myself when no one else is around...

"Things are fine, you're trying to force it, just relax and let love find you--sure there are some lonely times, but everyone gets lonely. You're not the only one. Just hang in there and keep doing what you're doing."

The key to this lie is the part where I tell myself to "keep doing what I'm doing" Here's what I'm doing--I stare at guys that I think are cute--I don't talk to them, I don't smile at them. I stare blankly while I completely abandon all sense of my small-talking talent and witty sense of humor. I automatically feel inferior, inadequate, and I feel like an idiot for not being able to chat up some cute guy. Then I run through the never-ending list of why he won't like me:

I'm too mainstream
Not mainstream enough
I don't have enough hair on my head
I have too much hair on my head
I shop at retail clothing stores too much
I don't shop at retail clothing stores enough
I don't have a six pack anymore
I'm not funny enough
I'm too funny
My eyelids are too big
My forehead is too big
My bottom teeth aren't straight
My breath might smell
I'm too liberal and artsy
I'm not liberal or artsy enough
and so on and so on and so on and so on and so on...

So what the fuck? Really. What the fuck do I do? I know that something needs to change. I need to develop the testicular fortitude to at least smile at guys that I think are cute--a simple nod hello or even "wass'up". But when the situation arises when a simple nod hello is more than enough to express interest, I completely abandon all rational thought, and up going through the list and starring like a dead gay zombie. Furthermore--I look desperate. But I guess I am desperate. Because sometimes--it really sucks when you're alone.

2006-12-25T12:40:00.000-05:00

My trip into DC was surprisingly effortless. Airtran may be the big double-wide in the sky, but I've always had really good luck with them! This time I upgraded myself to business class as a little holiday treat. Probably the best thing ever because you get a free drink right when you sit down and a bag of chips!! The seat was wide and comfortable. I didn't have to share the other side with anyone. I will probably try to do this every time I fly. The flight landed right on time. So to ensure a prompt pick up, I quickly called my brother. This is how the conversation went:

Brother: FUCK THIS FUCKING SHIT. DAD IS A FUCKING ASS HOLE AND GAVE ME WRONG DIRECTIONS TO THE AIRPORT. I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK I AM. I'LL CALL YOU IN 30 FUCKING MINUTES WHEN I'VE FIGURED OUT WHERE THE FUCK I AM. JESUS FUCKING (CLICK).

I didn't really feel the need to contribute to that conversation! And so the holiday at home had officially started. I should mention that my brother is a 2nd Lt. in the Marines. I mistakenly took his hostile words for just that--hostility. But he wasn't being hostile. He was just talking. This is pretty much how Marines talk. They love to say FUCK and they love to belittle just about all living things, and even a few inanimate objects. It's a constant dick-swinging contest. Anyway, my homecoming was pretty anti-climactic, as my parents and my sisters were at a Christmas party and my brother retreated to his little world in the basement. So I sat in silence with the dogs as I transitioned myself into family world.

Family world is much different from my safe little world. I love my little Atlanta world and hate to be away from it from for too long. That's probably a sign of an addictive personality, but nonetheless, I don't like being away from it from too long. On a side note, I am particularly happy to be coming back to Atlanta-world because I have redesigned the work space and redecorated the living space. Lab-rat roommate and I had several in depth discussions about how we wanted to set the apartment up so that we could maximize the efficiency of the workspace. Basically, I moved the work area from the dining room into the living room and moved the couches into the dining room---thus creating a personal little setting to watch TV in. aaah.....

Right now I'm sitting by the fireplace in family world watching Cinderella Man. I couldn't be less interested in this movie and feel a little trapped. Because if I left the room to do something else, I would be betraying my family's commitment to family and the holiday. I really want to take a nap. Perhaps I'll have another mimosa!!!

I have many pics to post, but every time I go to post them, there's always something wrong with them and blogspot doesn't allow them to post. any ideas?

mmmmm Cheetos!!!!

2006-12-19T16:29:00.000-05:00

I'm afraid that I'm going to end up on People's court or Judge Alex, or one of the thousands of shows where semi-good looking actors pose as judges and overstate everyday facts with a sassy attitude.

Yesterday someone in my apartment complex accidentally backed into my car. He was really cool about it and left me a note. But I just hate to see my little car with a scratch on it--yeah I'm one of those people who treats their car like a human. I'm in the process of dealing with his insurance company right now. It's a HUGE pain in the ass! I really want this thing to run as smoothly as possible and that both parties get what they want without involving Judge Alex.

On a better note, I had my first crocheting lesson today with TeeRu-shell. Isn't it funny that crocheting could be pronounced Crotch-et-ing. I think that's how I'll refer to it from now on. TeeRu-shell was pretty awesome because she bought me a 6.5 mm needle and yard that reminds me of Cheetos and Roman Noodles. I reviewed the instruction book that T gave me, but every time I looked at one of how-to pictures I was reminded of this book I used to read as a kid where this woman makes a bunch of pasta and the pot keeps getting bigger and bigger and there's pasta all over the place. I wish I could remember the name of this book!

Finally--what the fuck is up with the weather lately! It's been damn 70 degrees for the past two weeks and it's fucking December!!! Granted, I love to go running in the evenings when it's cooler--like in the 60s. But my turtleneck sweaters really miss clinging to my neck!

i'm too tired to think of a witty title.....

2006-12-18T01:26:00.000-05:00

So after three straight nights of going out, getting wasted, and not really sleeping much, today was my total day of rest. I watched most of the entire third season of Arrested Development. Damn that show is hilarious! I think the third season is my favorite by far. I love that the storyline is bizarre and uncomfortably odd. But I really love how the writing seems to take on a bit of an allegorical context; it seems to be telling the story of why the show was cancelled. At least that's my theory. Perhaps after watching some of the episodes with the commentary on, I will be able to determine if this is the case. The writing in the third season seems to have a darker tone to it compared to the other two seasons. I love that these characters seem to be bitterer (more bitter??) than in the previous two seasons.

Tonight I checked out a documentary a la Blockbuster--(I miss the documentary selection of Netflix). Anyway, this was an older documentary called Searching For Debra Winger. The documentary focused on women in the film industry and how hard it is for them. It was produced and told by Rosanna Arquette. it was pretty interesting, though the interviews with Sharon Stone and Jane Fonda made me throw up in my mouth. The subject matter was interesting and the interview with Debra Winger was great, but the rest of the documentary seemed a bit forced, as the other high profile actresses like Meg Ryan and Diane Lane really seemed to be "on".

I have this fascination with Hollywood and how it's run. There's this great book called "The Player" by Michael Tolkin--who also wrote the screenplay for the 1992 film. It gives this dark, scary satirical view of Hollywood and the entertainment business. It's so strange how different that world is. The rules of engagement are completely different--from what I can tell. A part of me really wants to investigate the raw truth of Hollywood and expose it all. I think it's time that we see those celebrities that we hold in such high esteem taken down a few notches and viewed as the real human beings they actually are---flaws and all!

Relief

2006-12-15T12:21:00.000-05:00

The energy in the building last night was exciting. It reminded me of the way it felt, back in the day, right before I walk on stage on the opening night of a performance. But this was no improv set or a musical. This was my first quarter critique.

It went great. My presentation was natural and not rushed. I was able to connect with each of my panelist (all women thank god!) Some of the work was unfinished, some of the work looked amazing. Despite the quality of my craft, or lack there of, I am proud of what I presented. I worked my ass off and it showed. Sure I used the wrong type of glue with one of my boxes, and most of my edges weren't cut very well. One panelist commented that it looked like I had been using the same Xacto blade for the entire quarter. If it weren't true, I'd probably be upset. Unfortunately, I had changed out my xacto blades every 15 to 20 minutes! I am going to rework a few things over the break to get them to the point where they are perfect, or as close to perfect as I am humanly able to do--though it'd be great if I could find an awesome robot to help me!

So there was this definite high I felt after I left the building. And the Pomegranate margaritas I indulged in afterwards never tasted so sweet! But when I got home I felt a little sad. I felt a sense of loss. As I walked through the wrecked wild scraps of paper and empty starbucks cups, I realized that my work area was now my apartment again. I just sat in the dark and silence and took it all in. I had to take this moment to let the quarter officially end with me. It's hard for me to let it go because I know there was something so special about it. There was this type of innocence and eagerness. I was unsure of what I had walked into. I was scared and excited. I was distressed and then confident. It makes me happy to think that the experience of my first quarter was so unique that I don't know that I'll ever be able to experience something like it again.

I remember working on our value charts with everyone in my Design Aesthetics’ class in the basement of the school. All of the upper quarter students would pass by with reminiscent looks on their face, which quickly turned into relief. This is how we got to know each other. We helped each other out, we were all each other's shoulder to cry on. We all bought each other drinks when we celebrated. We all critiqued each other's work. We all gave each other ideas. We all laughed together.

I like to think that none of us are the same people we were when we started. I know I'm not. I look at my work and I see the beginning of something amazing. I see myself becoming the person that I know I am on the inside. I've seen my friends start to mature and grow. I often wonder who I will work with again when this is all said and done.

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

2006-11-26T12:03:00.000-05:00

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...

2006-11-21T11:54:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-19T21:37:00.000-05:00

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"

2006-11-12T22:52:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-11-10T23:17:00.000-05:00

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

Sibling Rivalery?

2006-11-07T11:56:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-05T19:45:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-05T17:55:00.000-05:00

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.

dirty filters

2006-10-29T19:06:00.000-05:00

My car needs a new air filter. It's pretty clogged up and hasn't been changed in the year and a half that I've had it. That got me thinking about other filters in my life that may need to be changed out. Starting with the one that connects my brain to my mouth!

Last night I attended a a great Halloween party--I dressed up as a gay Marine (pictures to be posted soon). It was an awesome good time. I sheepishly will admit that this party was reminiscent of Halloween parties you might see in the movies or on TV. By this I mean there were costumes, great music, and a long ass fucking line at the bathroom (though you typically don't see bathroom lines in the movies). In addition to the costumes and music, there was alcohol! A lot of fucking alcohol. The funny thing about alcohol is that it has this way of disintegrating the filters of sobriety that enable us to keep our personal thoughts to ourselves. Any attempts to filter thoughts last night were completely shut out due to the unstoppable forces of alcohol. That said, I should apologize to one Blake Wright for grabbing his ass. I should also apologize to Adrian Dickerson for playfully slapping him across the face after describing certain body parts of mine (don't ask!). I should also apologize to the people across the street for eating all of their of hummus--how awkward was that!

I tend to operate on a regular basis with my personal brain filter set to low/non-existent. this typically results in the proverbial line being crossed almost every time I crack a joke. But I like to think that is one of my more positive character traits! Others may beg to differ. And to those people I say " SUCK IT!" But sometimes I think I do it to keep myself at a safe distance from other people; slightly alienated. Because when someone makes an off colored remark, you tend to look at them differently, perhaps with a slightly negative lens. People will always remember how you make them feel. I’m not exactly sure where I’m going with this, but every once in a while I’ll resent myself (just a little) for keeping myself at a “safe” distance from others. I think my behavior at the Halloween party can easily be attributed to that thought process. If I’m loud and gregarious, then I don’t feel like I actually have to talk to people, I’ll try to make sure people only look at me, but not talk to me.

Me and the Pre-PC-Me

2006-10-28T14:11:00.000-04:00

As I conclude week 4 of Portfolio Center I am starting to become more aware of little idiosyncrasies that are very different from the pre-PC me. Here are a few:

I no longer feel that the world will end if I do not visit Starbucks on a bi-hourly basis! Instead, I prefer the cheap just add water French Vanilla "cappuccino" from the BP gas station and a bag of Swedish fish (suck it cavities ha ha!).

I don't drive my car nearly as much as I used to. I've had the same tank of gas for 3 weeks now! That’s just plain amazing!!

I have started to identify an AOF in every piece of marketing collateral I see and then scoffing at its use of stock typeface and lack of directional force!

I am actually able to function without cable tv or dvr!

the only time I am in my bedroom is when I am changing clothes or sleeping; all other times I am either in class, or downstairs working, or at the BP.

I leave lights on when I leave the room.

my portion control at dinner is now dictated by Wachovia Educational Loan services.

i am no longer gay (yeah right!)

things that have stayed the same:

I still have trouble managing my time
I still make awkward uncomfortable moments and then laugh at them
I still dance the night away in my living room

PC vs. Family

2006-10-22T16:19:00.000-04:00

I had an interesting conversation with my sister Kelly about work and family and how to prioritize the two. Kelly is the oldest of my four siblings. I am the second oldest--how "middle-child syndrome" does that sound! Kelly is also a musical genius who just completed her graduate degree at the Manhattan School of Music for jazz composition. I am sure there are other impressive titles attached to her degree, but unfortunately I don't know them, nor do I honestly understand them (sorry Kelly). Her work ethic is uncanny in addition to her commitment to family.

Here's a non-verbatim recap of our conversation:

Kelly: Why the fuck aren't you coming home for Thanksgiving (okay...I added the fuck part....Kelly hardly ever uses bad words when she talks to me)

Kevin: Well, I'm afraid that coming home for Thanksgiving will be a "rushed" trip that will put me behind in my school work, and I'd prefer to just work through Thanksgiving to keep myself on track and then come home for Christmas when I can truly relax and enjoy being at home.

Kelly: BULLSHIT--taking a day off will only put you behind if you let it. Just manage your time and keep yourself from falling into that trap--I did it for every holiday when I was in grad school. I'm sure your work load is insane, but mine was too. Look, I understand the meaning and purpose of being in a good work flow and keeping it going. You're totally underestimating your ability to keep yourself on track.

Kevin: ________________________________________________________________________________________(long pause; which I usually take when someone has just slapped me with some reality)

Kelly: Besides, at Brent's Wedding, your presence was definitely missed. Because, bottom line, you make me laugh, and it's always more fun when you're around. (Brent is our cousin who was recently married on October 7th, the first weekend of my first quarter at PC--it was also the weekend of my first 2 all nighters).

Kevin: [blushing a little].....yeah i know, aren't I the most awesome---I mean--Reeaaaallly?????!!!!

Kelly: This isn't a power play, I promise. ("power plays" are a constant underlying theme that run deep in my family's decision making process. If at any point one of us thinks the other is taking advantage of the other or trying to control the other, we will automatically resist and argue for the sake of arguing).

Kevin: I think you're arguing this for the sake of arguing!

Kelly: We all just want you to come home. Bottom line.

Kevin: Understood, I'll revaluate my work load and see if I can find a way to make it work. Which means I’ll be going home for Thanksgiving?

But that got me thinking about work and family. I've always lived pretty close to home and never really had an over-demanding work load like I do now. I was always able to come home when I needed to. Sometimes I still think I'm just a 30 minute drive away from seeing my mom and dad.

But at what point do you put your work aside and put family first? I don't know that I have a clean cut answer for that one. I don't know that anyone does. I imagine a lot of people struggle with this issue. And is it considered selfish to put your work before family? When I first made the decision to stay in Atlanta for Thanksgiving, I was aware that I was acting selfishly, but in my mind, it was a "healthy" type of selfishness. However, after realizing what my older sister went through to make it home for holidays when she was in school, it seemed incredibly selfish for me to put work first. I know that if Kelly didn't come home then I would be disappointed too. I'd be disappointed in her for not finding a way to make it work.

I think I'm also starting to realize how strong our family can be when we're all together, and how the family dynamic changes when one of is missing.

Alrght-Alrighty: roll the credits and que the sappy 80's sitcom theme music!)

oh shit

2006-10-19T05:58:00.000-04:00

It's almost 6 AM on Thursday morning. I haven't slept more than 3 hours all week. This first quarter is unreal--it's VERY tough.

It's tough because I wanted to be able to walk in here and hit a homerun with every project I work on. I want every piece of work I do to be great, perfect, and effortlessly flawless. I want to be a good designer. Moreover, I want design to be the one thing that I'm naturally good at. I've discussed this concept briefly with other first quarter students ending each conversation with the idea that if everyone walked in here and was good at it, then there would be no point to attending this school. While I know that this is the logical way to approach this quarter, there's a deep emotional part of me that doesn't believe that.

There's this sick part of me that believes everyone has something that they're just naturally good at, like an athlete who just naturally picks up a sport or a musician that can just pick up an instrument and rock the shit out of it. This part of me believed that I was naturally good at design. Three weeks into this quarter and reality has just sucker punched me right in the face, and suddenly I realize I don't know jack shit about any of this. And while that may be the point of the first quarter, I look around at the work that other first quarter students are producing and they're amazing. They're a lot better at it than I am. All of a sudden I find myself struggling to produce mediocre work and I can't help but resent myself for it. So I refuse to sleep until I achieve a level of perfection that I am satisfied with. Then I end up spending an excessive amount of time on one part of a large assignment fearing that the work won't be good enough. The next thing I know It's 6:00 in the morning, the assignment is incomplete, and worst of all, it's less than mediocre--it flat out sucks.

It's like I've hit this wall, and there's this huge wave headed right towards me and if I don't get my ass over this wall, that fucking wave is going to clobber the shit out of me and I'll start to drowned. That is the most unnerving feeling in the world and I’m not sure how to fix it.

The Devil Wears Chicos

2006-10-16T10:23:00.000-04:00

it's 10:13 in the AM on Monday 10/16. I just woke up after about three hours sleep. I worked on one project yesterday/ last night/this morning for about 15 hours--here's to week three!

The assignment is to pick an ancient civilization and an animal out of a hat and then produce several final pieces of work which include a poster (made entirely of cut paper) and a gift bag (also made entirely of paper--which I must make myself!). The design of these final pieces must represent the civilization's design aesthetic as well as composition. I choose the Aztec civilization and a deer. So not only do I have to be an expert on the Aztec design, but I have to be an expert on design in general. My initial thought was: "this ain't so bad!....I’ll just put a few triangles on the page and see if it looks good, then go from there!!" I failed to realize that there are these things in design called an Area of Focus, point force, values, symmetry, and a whole slew of design concepts that I'm still learning how to use. There really isn't a book that teaches all of this, so it all must be self-taught in a short amount of time while under the watchful eye of one Sylvia Gaffney.

Sylvia Gaffney is known at the Portfolio Center (as well as Creative Circus) for her keen sense of design as well as her ability to stare you down and, without saying a single word, cause you to doubt the very breath you're about to take, not to mention your design ideas(she also has this way of starring right at you for an extended period of time after you've concluded a brief conversation, what's up with that??) In other words, she's there to weed out all the first quarter students who aren't serious about this program. She's already caused a few first quarter students to curl up in the fetal position and cry silently in their cars. I tell you this now--that ain't happening to this kid!! Growing up gay with an overbearing strict catholic Marine for a father (love ya dad!!) has definitely taught me a thing or two about perseverance, resilience, and not ever being broken!! Bottom line, I'm going to wrestle this class to the ground, punch it in the face three times, send it off to the taxidermist, wait three weeks for it come back mounted on a piece of drift wood with a plaque that says "Suck It" where I'll hang it on the wall and sit around it and tell war stories with my hunting buddies all while wearing boots and a flannel shirt.

To be honest, I am really quite fond of Sylvia. While her teaching methods consist only of extemporaneous lectures and do not include power point presentations, a book, or even a white board, I have a feeling that her lessons will be carried with me for the rest of my design career, and perhaps even my life! This class is not easy! But if it were easy, then there'd be no point. All of my design ideas first quarter will suck and be filled with mistakes! But that's the whole point, that's where the learning happens; in the mistakes. I hope to make so many fucking mistakes this quarter that I'll actually be able to write a manual for the next round of first quarter students coming into PC!!!!

Go Fauxhawk Yourself

2006-10-15T14:26:00.000-04:00

This is my first blog ever! Well that's not true. I started a blog last month on my myspace page (www.myspace.com/s2kmfent), however I only did one entry and thought it was lame and then I stopped.

So I've just moved down to Atlanta, GA to start an intensive two-year design program at a school called the Portfolio Center. I'm in week two and I'm enjoying the ride. The people that I've met at the school are the kind of people I've always wanted to meet and be around. Furthermore, they're the kind of people I've always wanted to become. I guess that's because for the last two years I'd been living a life that I thought I had discerned for myself. I finished college, got an awesome job, started buying things that I wanted and felt pretty satisfied. It's funny the way people define their happiness. For me, that happiness was more about having a lifestyle filled with work and happy hours, and an awesome wardrobe! But that's all pretty much bullshit at the end of the day. I guess it was about 4 months ago that I realized how unhappy I was. The life I had wasn't much of a way to live; it was more of a way to die. That's a pretty morbid statement, but I think there's truth in it. I had become complacent and apathetic, everything felt routine and mechanical. In many ways, I felt many parts of me had already started to die off.

So what did I do about it? I walked right out of that life, started drawing thumbnails until 7:30 in the AM, and grew a faux-hawk. (yes, that's right, a faux hawk!)