What's your sign?

I found mine:

Or

Or on the other hand, there's this:

Don't ameliorate, defenestrate.

(Rather than make it better, throw it out the window.)

From Trixie, at Milk and Cookies dot com.

Stand

When push comes to shove you taste what you’re made of.
You might bend ‘til you break, ‘cause it’s all you can take.
On your knees you look up; decide you’ve had enough.
You get mad.
You get strong.
Wipe your hands.
Shake it off.
Then you Stand.

Some of you may know that this has been kind of a crappy Spring/Summer for me. There have been many moments of happiness, but those have been the highlights in a very stressful period. The environment at the office is increasingly hostile, unbearable, and inexcusable. The interference of a particular neighbor has become intolerable. And my car was stolen.

So I need a new job, a new apartment, and a new car. And I hit all three within weeks of each other.

No pressure.

My friends were amazed I wasn't more upset at each of these things individually, and even moreso at these in the aggregate. My work-related stress is worming its way out in some unpleasant unconscious ways, but that is getting under control and I am sending out resumes and having interviews. I have smacked down Gladys Cravits with a completely reasonable communication to the landlord and have notified her that I will be moving, but will be taking my own sweet time in doing so. Paul Day has taken my apartment hunting as his new hobby and sends me postings about four times a day. Although so far, nothing special or worth the expense.

So I am dealing, and in my usual Virgo sort of way. If I can be active and rational in my response to a crisis, I can pretty much handle anything. It also sucks that I've thrown out my ankle and can't dance as I'd like—and you know that Sunday's Sundance is my little bucket of happy I get once a week. Unfortunately, rational planning does not mend soft tissue.

When I hit this trifecta of personal stress, I had to take a moment to think and get a handle on it. I was reminded of one of those annoying simple platitudes, the sort of which elementary school teachers post in classrooms or simpletons put on coffee mugs. This one was hand-written by the football coach and tacked on the bulletin board in the varsity locker room in high school: "Either you control your attitude or it controls you."

I decided this was all in how I looked at it. I could be upset at so much upheaval, but I decided to look at this as an opportunity for change. And that's how I have been referring to it when friends ask, "So what's up with you?"

I'm having a summer of change. And looking at it that way, instead of being ugly, it becomes something beautiful.


Challenge becomes opportunity.

A few months back, an old acquaintance posted some personal painful experiences to his blog. Chip, whom I met a lifetime ago in Nashville where we once briefly shared a dark corner, moved to San Francisco, then Sausalito, then settled down in Chicago. All has not gone according to plan. In his narrative, he quoted a song from Rascal Flatts that spoke to his situation and emotion. He never dreamed that home would end up where he did not belong. He's moving on. In fact, he's moving back to SF.

I've been thinking about another Rascal Flatts song of late. And playing it a lot. Work has thrown all sorts of shit my way. And life. Stuff I don't write about here. My grandmother once said that sometimes the only way out is through.

Or in the words of a less sappy song: I get knocked down, but I get up again.

(and in fact I do like whiskey, vodka, lager, and cider drinks.)

Onwards. Upwards. Always.

............................................
Stand
Written by Danny Orton, Blair Daly
Recorded by Rascal Flatts


You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless, like you’ve lost your fight
But you’ll be alright, you’ll be alright

Chorus:

‘Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you’re made of.
You might bend ‘til you break,
‘Cause it’s all you can take
On your knees you look up.
Decide you’ve had enough.
You get mad.
You get strong.
Wipe your hands.
Shake it off.
Then you stand.

Then you stand.

Life’s like a novel with the end ripped out,
The edge of a canyon with only one way down.
Take what you’re given before it’s gone.
And start holdin’ on, keep holdin’ on.

[chorus]

Every time you get up and get back in the race
One more small piece of you starts to fall into place.

[chorus]

Sunny side of the hill

Sure, it's like 40 degrees with gale force fog at work and at home, and I thought I would pop over to Café Flore and catch up on some blogging. Downtown at lunch today it was freezing and windy too, but over here in the Castro-- sunny and mild. It's like half a mile away from the artic conditions surrounding my apartment! These micro climates are crazy. Oh to move over to this side of the hill...

On little cat feet my ass.

Mark Twain wasn't joking.

Or rather, I suppose he was. But it's only funny because it's true.

It's July in San Francisco and I am wearing a sweater and a jacket and a hat. It is so cold and foggy up here on Parnassus Street I'm making soup for dinner and getting out the flannels.

I went on a little search for the citation for Twain's aphorism: "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." But what I learned was that he didn't coin that at all. Another misattribution.

But still. It's freakin July and it is ass cold over here. I got sunburned in Sausalito yesterday and today I'm in a parka.

Brr.

50 Ways of Saying Fabulous

Barney's little cousin back in New Zealand is starring in a NZ gay coming-of-age flick , 50 Ways of Saying Fabulous. It's headed this way, and with good reviews.

That's his cousin Andrew pictured.

Criminy!

Hey kids. It's super busy at work and at night so not much time to post. Still- Luv yew. A little nugget in sec, but otherwise I pretty much won't be able to write until Monday night.

Boot Windows boot

So the Intel Macs can run Windows too? That's cool for the one or two apps you really need a Windows machine for.

But now, why even bother installing or booting up Windows? Apparently, soon you will be able to run the rare must-have Windows app on your Intel Mac without running Windows, or paying for a Windows license.

This looks way cool.
(You know, if you're a geek.)

Great for offices or home offices that want the happiness of the Mac OS, but also occasionally need to use some proprietary work program that only runs on Windows. I'd probably only use it for FreeCell.

Surreal estate

And I thought finding a decent pad in SF was bad. How about this lovely little penthouse in NYC. Only $70 Million.

No Mo Marriage for NY

You may have heard the news.

From the New York Times: "New York's highest court today turned back an attempt by gay and lesbian couples to win equal treatment under New York State's marriage law, saying that the state constitution 'does not compel recognition of marriages between members of the same sex.'"

Disheartening to say the least. But I am heartened by this quip from Leno on the Tonight Show:

"According to polls, 51 percent of Americans do not approve of gay marriage, but 70 percent ... do not approve of President Bush. So gay marriage is actually more popular than he is."

(source: The Charlotte Observer, 06/12/06).

Killer Guac

Well, it almost made him a killer.

Best recipie for guacamole ever. Backdated.

A funny guy recounts his failure to make guacamole as if it were a recipie.

So, Superman returned

Eh.

It was fun to watch, and Brandon Routh pulled it off, and with a surprising homage to the performance of Christopher Reeve. He had the meter and voice down pretty pat. This film lacked a lot of the playful fun of the first two Supes flicks, but it was still a good action ride. Although at two and a half hours, I could have used more action, and more Parker Posey, and a lot less Lois. Kate's cute, but she is no strong-willed single mother/experienced ace reporter. But she wasn't nearly as bad as the reviews had prepared me. (Note for the 3-D fans, it's just 3-D in four sequences, not all the way through, and it was a 3-D extraction from a 2-D print, so it is rather planar and not truly three-dimensional.)

Sure, this movie lacked the soul of the X-Men, but it was a very good Superman movie— its primiary flaw being that while very good, it could have been much better.

And I want to kiss Bryan Singer on the lips for the opening credits. Kevin and I both said afterwards that we felt like we were suddenly 12-years-old again, and had an immediate rush of excitement to be seeing a Superman movie. Whatever the emotional equivalent of muscle memory is, my brain released the same chemicals and triggered the emotional state of my first time--young, truly care-free, and excited to see a Superman matinee.

I had a matinee-idol fascination with the tall, dark and handsome Christopher Reeve then, and not so much for the new Brandon Routh, although he fills out the spandex quite nicely if slimly. I was able to make a bunch of queens' heads turn as we were filing out of the IMAX madhouse. In turned to Kevin sotto-voce, in the clichéd Jewish-mother tone, "What? Two and a half hours and less than a second with his shirt off?"

...........................................................
Kevin has two riffs on the Supes film he wants to put to paper: One on the timing of the movie and the state of today's geo-political scene, and one on the clear "yadda yadda yadda-ing" of "the American Way" in the line from Perry White: "Does he still stand for truth? Justice? All that stuff?". Kevin-- once you put words to screen feel free to voice them here in the comments section.

Sliding into third

It's the third of July. Most folks I know got a four day weekend. Even though this institution is open today, hardly anyone is around. I stepped down the hall to use the shared copier, and the lone worker from the south side was surprised to see me.

"Oh, you had to work today too?"
"Yeah. How's it going?"
"It's creepy walking around this place today. Very 28 Days Later."

Which is all the more creepy with a hospital across the street.

I wore a red shirt with a blue undershirt to be all almost-fourth-y today. But directly from work I'm going to see the Superman Returns 3D/IMAX experience, and now I will look all Super-fan-y. I'm dressed like Tom Welling on Smallville, but without the pouty lips and rippling abs.

Also today: I have discovered that nachos are not good for breakfast, and surprisingly not good for a hangover.

blue blog

I got a nice e-mail from Stephen this morning. He's a cool guy who and we've decided he needs to be added to our fold.

In his e-mail, he gave me the link to his blog:

If you want to climb into my brain for a minute, you can check out my blog at www.stephenyarbrough.com (look for entries before January 2006 if you want to laugh, and after that date if you want to cry... (insert sad violin music here).

Shout to Stephen, and his blog. And grieving is a process, that really, really sucks.

1:58/1:59

What a to-do to die today at a minute or two to two,
A thing distinctly hard to say but harder still to do.
For they'll beat a tattoo at a quarter to two:
A rat-ta tat-tat, a tat-tat-tat-to.
And the dragon will come
when he hears the drum.
At a minute or two to two today,
at a minute or two to two.

Widowered

"When a man is a widower why do we say he was widowed? Why don't we say he was widowered?"
-Annie Reed (Meg Ryan),
Sleepless in Seattle

Well, apparently they do say 'widowered."
..................................................................
I had no intention of a big night out last night. And the night wasn't all that big, but it was out. I had hoped to join Jennings at the 3-D IMAX Superman show, but it was sold out. Gordon was in town and invited Kevin (and me) to dinner at Firewood. I was kept late at work and so got to Firewood about 20 minutes late, but still in time for dinner, where I met two new friends (new to me, old friends of Gordon's).

In true six-degrees fashion, one of my new friends is the housemate of the Anonymous Public Figure (and this) Truth be told, I would be much more romantically inclined towards the housemate than to the APF.

I needed a little outing, some good company, and a beer, but really needed to head home afterwards to GSD. Such would not come to pass. The new guys were much fun, and Gordon was ready for a Night Out, so we went across the street to Sadlands, even though we had just missed the 2-4-1 by about ten minutes. The plan was to stay for one drink. But there were four of us, and then everyone would buy a round so on we went. And when Oscar found out the greyhounds were for me, he was pouring them so strong it tasted more like a class of iced vodka that had just been shown to a greyhound.

The guys were much fun, and I had a great time getting to know Stephen (Steven?). This was one of Stephen's first forays Out since his partner died fourth months ago. Leukemia. Very sudden. Very tragic. I have had my own experience of caring for someone dying, although not the love of my life, and am comfortable talking of death and dying, the caring and the grieving and the dealing. Not that that was all we talked about, but I was happy to engage on the topic and I got the sense he was happy to talk casually about it with someone who wasn't awkward about it. I suppose it builds a sense of normalcy and living to the experience of dying.

We didn't dwell or anything, we just stood around drinking cocktails, telling stories, scamming the hotties, and mocking the videos. The topics of illness and blogging merged and I told him about my Caring Bridge experience, and then we started in on blogging. I confessed that I haven't kept this up as well as I would like (and I STILL haven't debriefed from the Swan Ball yet!), but with work and other parts of my life being so crazy busy I have't had time to write anything lengthy or particularly crafted. Just bits and pieces of fun fluff.

Me: "Like last night there was a Laser Tag reference at dinner and I felt the need to share that."
S: "OHMYGOD! I grew up in [red state] and there was a Laser Tag place in the mall!"
Me: "A Laser Maze! I remember those!"
G: "What's that?"
S: "Oh my God. It's like the Power Exchange without the sex!"

Oh my. That is so true. The lights, the music, the smoke machines, the dark corners and cubby holes. They might as well turn laser mazes into sex clubs after hours.

Of course, that got us talking about playing laser tag in the Power Exchange, which would be hilarious.

International Laser Tag Association

As is getting to be my habit when out drinking, I had scrawled that comment on a cocktial napkin so I could remember to blog about it later. I have another word scrawled on the same napkin. A term I could just as soon not have added to my personal lexicon, but it is as funny as it is gross.

Kevin and I mentioned out recent outing to the Martina McBride concert at the Oakland Arena. Shilpa was the only person of color, and the crowd was high on the red neck meter. We wondered what was up with the trashy (but kinda hot in a way) skinny white-trash guys with the bleached dip circles in their back pockets and their young obese girlfriends in glitter. (Oh my-- did you hear someone scream? No, that was just the buttons of her shirt.)

Stephen countered with his own red-state/red-neck story. One of his friends works for Wal-Mart corporate, and has to go to Arkansas every so often. "He says that red-neck sex is the best. And the closeted country boys get really into it." The word that stopped me cold was the redneck term for one's rear entry: turd box.

I know. I've gone one too far for the blog. But for Heaven's sakes. Turd box? Like, (insert farm accent) "Heh heh heh. I'm gonna do you in the turd box."? That is so foul that I could not stop laughing. Clearly, one beer and four greyhounds make me 12 years old.

Too nasty to tell, but too funny not to share. Now it's in your lexicon. Deal with it. And maybe one day you'll slip and tell someone they can shove it up their turd box.

Then let me know. I'll write it here.

MACgritte

This guy is brilliant. I don't know who Dan is, but love what he did with his powerbook!

Dynamic Drinking Duo

The Drinking Detectives Agency. Secret agents with secret ingredients.
Fabulous, and fighting crime.

I can't believe I overheard this

Two girls who grew up together, talking excitedly across the dinner table:

"In high school you were the Laser Tag Dominatrix!"
"A Doma-what?"
"You asked me what a dominatrix was then. I told you it meant that you were on top and caused pain."

Dominatrix topic aside, there was a freakin' Laser Tag reference at dinner! You gotta gawk at that.

Bloody Marys

They're not just for breakfast anymore.