I just updated my buzznet site. Finally, all my pictures are up. They go back all the way to the Limelight show. Check them out.

New Moon

There will be a new moon tonight.
A perfect night to be alone and wallow in the sins of the world.


Nothing brings a smile to my face more than a gay man

Two gay men make my day even better!
I had to go to the mall today and buy a birthday present for the B-man. While I was in this particular store, I happened to run into a fellow DePaul classmate who worked at the store. I said hello to her, and then she just so happened to check me out. Glad to be leaving (not because of her, but the store's overwhelming atmosphere), I scampered to the exit, only to hear a man's voice call my name.
"Hello, Darling."
"Brandon! Good to see you again." Brandon looked at someone else from his party approaching. "Alex! Oh my God! I haven't seen you in FOREVER! How's it going?"
Alex and I were in the very first Limelight Theatre production together. Every once in a while, I'd see him over the summer while he was living with his dad in the area. Alex (19) is Brandon's (20?) younger uncle. Funny family.
They weren't doing anything special, so I suggested we chat over some coffee.
It was such a good time. They ranted and praised the life-changing experience known as Brokeback Mountain. Brandon and I booed and hissed at our high school choir director. He also told me that I had not yet lived until I see Kapote. Alex is as wonderful as ever and still doesn't blip on my gay-dar. He has turned into such a movie buff and has a really good voice. It's too bad we never went to high school together. We always got along pretty well.
They really cheered me up, though. You might try and take a jab by calling me a fag-hag, but there's nothing better than having a good talk about the arts and people we hated in high school and, of course, scoping out attractive men.


I need a holiday hopper

Sorry for lack of updates, kiddies. I started writing a post a few days ago about the size of my family's Christmas tree, but I never got around to finishing it because then I realized that I'd have to take a picture of it and I didn't feel like doing that because then I'd have to update my Buzznet as well. I have a ton of pictures that I just haven't felt like posting.
What's wrong with me? Limelight is done now. I don't have that excuse anymore. Christmas is here. I'm excited to see my family again. My cousin Josh is back from Spain. He'll have a lot of stories to tell. I went to Alex's Christmas party last night. That was lots of fun.
So why don't I want to do anything right now? After all my complaining about not having anything to do, now all I want to do is stay at home and be with my brother and sister.
I still don't have my Dekalb hat back. Oak Park Mastermind must want to keep it for good. This makes me very sad.
I go back to school January 1. I can't tell if I'm excited or dreading.


The age old question

What do you want?

Since infancy, we have all been asked this question.
What do you want?

Answers are usually one of the following:
[Crying and screaming]
I don't know.

Usually, the last seems to be my answer, even if I just want something to eat from the kitchen. I don't know what I want to eat or what I want my life to be. Are we supposed to know what we want? The power to choose and to reason supposedly separates us from other animals, but what good does that do us when we can't come up with an answer?

All of this thinking is spurred by something Brian said to me this past week.
"I'm almost 34 and I don't even know what I want."

This concept nearly floored me.
We can go through our entire lives without feeling satisfied with ourselves. I guess I always thought that at some point in our lives, we would eventually reach a nirvana of sorts, a complacency with a career or living situation or relationship. And if one does not find this happy place, then she is a failure, a vagabond, a gypsy in life with little hope of really "settling down."
This pinnacle should start to be reached during the college years because that's the time you're supposed to "find" yourself.

Well, I've decided that my previous beliefs are shit.
College is nothing. It's fun and you learn a trade and you learn to be independent, but at this point, we're all too self indulgent and starry-eyed and wet behind the ears to really learn anything about ourselves, except maybe our alcohol tolerance.
And most of all, it confuses the hell out of you. If you're not confused, then there's probably something wrong with you, or you're too motivated for your own good.
Do I know what I really want to do with the rest of my life? I haven't the slightest clue, but I'll get a degree in vocal performance and see where that gets me. Maybe later in life, I can go back to school and learn something really cool, like Russian history.

I know I don't want to be aimless forever, but I don't think I'll be concerned if I can't find the perfect job right away or get upset if things don't go according to my original plans.

What do you want?
I don't know. What do you want?



Normally, I don't dread going to the dentist like some people. My dentist is a good friend of the family, and she's nice, doesn't give me too hard a time for not flossing.
But there are factors beyond the dentist's control.
My appointment was for 11, but I got there nearly 20 minutes early. So like a normal person I sat in the waiting room, reading a trashy magazine, and I barely notice the man sitting at the other end of the couch.
"Hello. How are you today?"
Shit. He engaged me, and I was obligated to return the favor.
"I'm fine."
"My name is Charlie."
My god, it had to have been the most awkward 20 minutes of my life. It was like talking to a friend you never really liked, but for some reason or another, you have to be nice to them.
He was CLEARLY gay (the speech impediment was a clear give-away), but worked for a video production company that filmed for Maxim Magazine and Budweiser. He would giggle uncomfortably while describing the "scenes" he had to set up for half naked girls to play on.
At the end of our little chat, he invited me to watch the Chronicles of Narnia with him and his dad.
"No, that's ok. Sounds like a family thing I wouldn't want to intrude upon."
Then I sat in the dentist's chair while the dental hygenist brutally scraped away the enamel on my teeth.
When my real dentist came into the room, I smiled at her with my gums bleeding.
I have to go back next Thursday to get a cavity filled.
At least next time Charlie won't be there.


Drunk Dialed...Again!

At least someone is having a good time.
For the past two nights one of my friends has drunk dialed me.
Now, normally this wouldn't be a problem, but due to my sick circumstances these phone calls have come at very inopportune times. (There is a mountain of dirty kleenexes by my bedside. If one didn't know better, they would think that someone has been furiously masturbating.)
I'm not mad at my friend. I think it's hilarious that I have been chosen as the designated drunk dialee. But it is a sign of the times that we are now in. No longer are we innocent, goofy high school kids. This is the beginning of something much greater. First come these random phone calls, then come marriage and babies and then death.
As far as I'm concerned, the combination of marriage and babies is fatal for at least the first fifteen years. Then, when you're 45 or so, you get to have a life again.
Literally, and symbolically, it's a wake-up call. This is life now, and all the playing fields are level. Whatever upper edge I thought I had over people my age is now gone.
Other people want the same singing career, so I have to be on guard at all times.
Maturity wise, I'm starting to feel no different. In fact, I have a sneeking suspicion that I have digressed.
It's not like this: Oh, I want to stay a teenager forever and have all my friends be the same so that we can live in peace and happiness and giddiness for the rest of our lives because I don't want to be old and jaded.
It's more like: Wow, this is really happening. We really are growing up and becoming (or not becoming) the things we once wanted to be. Some of us have changed a lot, and others not so much.
And this is only the beginning.


I am deathly ill.
Not really, but I want to die.
I think I have bronchitis or something of the respiratory sorts. I'm shaky because of the medicine I'm taking, but I haven't seen a doctor yet. There's this awful thing called a breathing treatment. Basically, it's a bunch of liquid steroids put into a container, and then this machine that makes a lot of noise vaporizes the medicine and you breath in. It takes forever and makes you feel like you have Parkinson Disease.
The stuff works though. I can breathe slightly better now but I'm still coughing. That probably won't go away for a while. And I still have a sore throat. At least that can be solved.
So, if you're one of my true friends, leave me alone and don't call me. Even if I answer, you will not recognize my voice.
Let me die in peace.


Gray Skies

I need a day job.
I love cleaning houses two days a week and judging speech meets on Saturdays, but this is ridiculous.
I'm hiding from my father but he has the day off today so it's a little challenging.
I should see what Chops is doing.
Hopefully something slightly more interesting than visiting blogs and buzznet all day long.
This is the dark side of frequent posting.
Hott Gurl hasn't given me my Dekalb hat back yet.
I'm too impatient.
Many things have been ruined because I haven't been patient.
This post is inspired by this one, but I spell better.
Boyfriend is visiting ex-girlfriend in Chicago today.
Shouldn't let it bother me.
I have little room to talk.
This post is going to piss off more than one person.
There's snow on the ground today.
What is that?
Chops, I hate you sometimes and why in the world would you have a crush on MJ?
I need a better life.

Honey Bear Ham wants you to stay in the city

What kind of kids go back to school while they're on break?
Alex and I, of course!
Kids, the suburbs suck.
The city is where it's at.
According to some important people, we'll all be living in the city someday. Of course, I don't remember where I heard this fact and I can't give any real numbers, but we're all living in the city, in the slums.
Which I think is a better place to be than home right now.
Never come back home, kids. It only leads to heartache and dependency.



One of the Hott Gurlz, Erin, found my Dekalb hat!
I'm so happy! This makes my day!
It supposedly smells like Pez.
I'm not too excited about that, but it's the price I pay for forgetting my hat in the first place.
Man, I need sticky glue on my hands or something. This losing streak is not cool.

I'm not going to the speech meet on Saturday (which is at Neuqua, which I LOVE because I always won there, which always rocked!), or at least I don't have to judge. Donna supposedly has that one covered. *Tear* I could be nice and show up anyway to watch all the little speechers, but probably not.

Speech team!

Oh man, I'm getting so excited about speech team that it borders on the ridiculous.
Donna B. sent me an e-mail asking if I wanted to judge and coach.
Hell YEAH! It's only what I've been waiting for since August!
God, I'm such a nerd.


back to work

I'm working again with my mom cleaning model houses while I'm on break.
I love my job. Sometimes, I wish I could be a cleaning lady for the rest of my life. I could learn Spanish fluently or Polish! That would be kick-ass.
It's hard going back to work after three months off. The vacuum is much heavier than I remember, and now my hands sting because of the handle. Man, I missed that beast. Royal vacuums are superior. That might be funny to some, but Hoover and Dyson have nothing on the Royal. It's the king of all vacuums. You just have to be careful not to run over the cords with it, or it will suck them up and then you're in trouble.
But I still remember all the little cleaning tips my mom or boss taught me and I distinctly remember the houses themselves. I could probably draw every single layout of each house and tell you exactly where the furniture goes and even where each trinket belongs. Not to mention the distinct smell of each house: some good, some baaaad!
Now, I think I'm going to take a nap since I stayed up half the night working on this blog. I still have a little more work to do: add more links, maybe change a picture or two. Oh, and I have to stay away from Elliot; he has the flu. And we all know how much I Love to vomit.

Buzznet buzz

Yeah, I know those posts haven't been updating themselves...

Brian, Alex, and I went to the Chicago-post Buzznet convention. Good times! Although, I'm sorry to say that I can't really write about it. Just one of those things you had to be at to understand. I'll recap the highlights for all you news junkies.
We didn't show up to the shindig until 9:00pm because we got dinner in Lincoln Park, and didn't want to look like BIG losers and be the first people to show up, the whole fashionably late concept.
We all met Tony P, Dave, Byron, and Chris. Good, cool peoples.
Dave bought Alex and I drinks in the name of underage drinking.
We talked about everything under the sun, but all I seem to remember is Tony P telling Alex and I that we should party more and do shrooms and acid in the woods. Whatever Tony. I don't know what you're talking about...
We left soon after the hott gurls arrived shortly after midnight.
I lost my hat. My fucking favorite hat with the DeKalb badge! Tony, if you stole it, I'll fight you.
We didn't get back to the burbs until 2:45 because earlier in the night, we decided it would be better to park in the loop than in Lincoln Park. Man, I love CTA, but those trains run soooo slow at night.
So now, I have tons of new buzznet friends, and probably more blogger friends, which means that I'll actually update on a regular basis. Times are super easy now because I'm on break for 5 weeks spending quality time with my parents. Joy!


KK is in a coma

KK is in a coma.
KK is in a coma
Someone I've known throughout all my high school career is now in a coma and might not come out of it.
KK, you're stupid!


Why didn't I go to school in Miami?

Today sucked hard. It's cold and the wind sucks. Suck suck suck! Plus, the school "Cafe" doesn't know how to make coffee. It wasn't even hot, and the barristas knew it too because they didn't put the cardboard wrap-around...thing on! Bastards.
And one of my finals is going to take away my soul. The class needs a diaper for this one. It's expected to run from 8:45 to at least noon. Food is also not allowed during the exam. AHHHHH!!!!!
I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'M GOING TO DIE! Do you hear me? Die DIE DIEEEEE!!!!!
I've officially freaked out.
You're all invited to my funeral.


there's no place like home

I genuinely missed home today.
The Bears played at Soldier Field today. Plenty of suburbanites came to the city today with all their garb and the grills in Lincoln Park were fired up.
This would have been a day when my dad cracks open a Sam Adams at 2:00 with maybe a friend or neighbor. I would be in the sun room reading or doing homework. Elliot and Jo would be in their rooms or on the computer. Mom would be in and out of the kitchen, probably cooking chili or soup. Every once in a while she would call to me to chop or wash something, maybe set the table.
That is the perfect Sunday at home and I miss it.
I know I'll be home soon enough. I just have to get through this week and then it's six weeks off. But I know when I get home, I'll just be itching to go back to school.


Ravi Fuckin Shankar!

I didn't even know I was going until this morning! Fucking Alex likes to keep things a surprise.
The man is amazing. He's been my hero ever since I saw the Concert for George. At 75 he can still "rock" on the sitar and compose beautifully complex orchestrations. Not to mention his improv (which is what he mostly does) is like nothing I've ever seen before. At one point towards the end of the concert, he played a minute or so of variations on Yankee Doodle. I kid you NOT!
Not to mention his daughter, Anoushka, is beautiful and incredibly talented as well. And the tabla player, Tanmoy Bose, is not human.
Simply A-mazing.



Alex and I are never drinking again.


Penny for the blind

I think I'm a terrible, awful person.
I've probably said that before, but didn't mean it, or said it in a completely different context, but this time, I'm pretty damn sure I'm going to hell.
There are bums/hobos/street people in the city. That's a fact. I walk past them everyday. Not even Lincoln Park, one of Chicago's poshest neighborhoods, is impervious them. They rattle their cups or try to sell you Street Wise, and you walk past them without batting an eye lash. But yesterday was different.
There was a man wearing semi-dirty clothes outside the Fullerton "L" stop with a box full of red roses. At first, I couldn't see how much the roses were, and I most definitely walked to the far left (wrong) side of the sidewalk so he wouldn't try to heckle me. That's when I noticed the sign. Please, Donate to the Blind.
Immediately, my thought was, At least he can't see me.
And then I realized how terrible of a person I am.
This all happened around 3:00 pm while I was on my way to choir rehearsal. Three hours later the man was still there selling roses for the blind, still half smiling, and my self worth dropped even lower.
Honestly, I didn't have a penny on me! Otherwise, I would have donated to redeem myself. They were nice roses too...
Maybe I'll go Oedipus Rex style and gouge my eyes out and walk through the world alone, in exile.
Well, at least I didn't fuck my mom and kill my dad...


The City is on FIRE!

The Sox winning the Series is like the apocalypse here in Chicago. A happy apocalypse. The kind where everyone gets into heaven.
The streets are going wild. People screaming, cars honking and honking back at each other. No one will sleep tonight.
This is pure mayhem.
God bless Chicago!



Because I'm living in Chicago and the White Sox are in the World Series, I'm supposed to be interested in sports.
I don't really follow baseball. If it's on and my dad is watching, I'll ask him who's winning and who's sucking. At least I understand the sport, sorta.
Technically, our household is a Cubs household, even though my father was raised by a South Side. Something about the Sox trading my grandpa's favorite player and never forgiving the team, so he switched and started cheering for the Cubs. You would just have to know my grandpa to understand the significance of this trade and his sour disposition on everything. And if you ever expressed interest in the Sox, he would rip into you and tell you that you're wrong and how awful that team was, and you're stupid for liking them. He wasn't a very nice man in the later years of his life.
The city is Sox crazy. Even though where I live is on the North side, people are going CRAZY! On Saturday night, I thought the entire city would explode with excitement because they won their first series game. Flags everywhere, cars honking, people shouting. Ridiculous.
But I don't care. Yeah, the Cubs are the golden team of Chicago, and there's no doubt that the Sox are the ugly South Side stepsister, but nonetheless, the Sox are still the home team. You have to be proud of them, and pray to God that they're smarter than the Cubs and not blow a three game lead.


Down with Wilco

I had class until 10:40 today, so I couldn't order Wilco pre-sale tickets right at 10 like I wanted to. I didn't sign on a computer until a little after 11.
1 hour 15 minutes, probably much, much sooner, all tickets SOLD OUT!
I can't even describe how pissed off I am.

Wilco Tickets

Wilco is playing a benefit concert for the victims of the hurricane on November 1.
I'm going.
Don't care if I have to go alone.
I'm going.


Purple Line

The Purple Line in Chicago is a mysterious beast.
The line used to run through the loop clockwise, regularly. It was beautiful, especially when traveling to DePaul University because there was no circling.
Well this spring, CTA had to make some cuts because there wasn't enough money floating around, so the beloved Purple Line got cut except during rush hours.
It just so happened that yesterday I was downtown during that time and was lucky enough to catch the elusive Purple Line for a ride back home. Only problem was the train was packed! I've never seen the L that full before.
Not only did the sardine can thing freak me out, but earlier in the morning, a Brown Line (or maybe it was Red, I don't remember) jumped off the track. No one was injured, but morning rush hour was hell for many.
Anyway, because the train was so crowded, I stood right next to the doors. Unfortunately, however, there was nothing for me to hold on to. All I could do was push myself against the divider wall. But when the train takes a sharp turn, it don't do jack shit! Consequently, I smashed into a cute little Indian lady not once, but twice! And I mean smash as in smash. I knocked her back several feet, into the crowds of people.
I felt awful and apologized profusely. She said it was ok, but once the train thinned out, she moved away from me, to a safer side.
You can say whatever you like, but I still love the CTA.



I've done a terrible thing, punishable by death in my standards.
I went home for homecoming.
I didn't even realize what I had done until I got ready for bed last night.
Last year at this time, I wrote a piece about how I hated alumns for coming home and telling me how great college life was, and how they were a bunch of losers for doing so. Now, I am among their ranks. I am disgusted with myself. Especially since I verified going to the homecoming game to see the marching band's new field show (which was cool and worth sitting through). I lied to myself! I really wanted to go home and see my old friends, only it turned out that the people I really wanted to see weren't there (but of course, Abby, I love you unconditionally and came to the game just to see you...).

So now that I'm back home in the suburbs, I have to learn how to drive again, and come to terms with my complete and utter boredom here. My entire day today was spent grocery shopping with my brother, and playing with my sister's stupid hamster that escaped from its cage today. We found it.
I don't know what I'm going to do in December when I'm home for the entire month. Maybe I can go through the winter quarter so that I don't have to come home.
No, I wouldn't do that. Family is more important despite the locale.


joys of fullerton

Alex and I are high school buddies. We go all the way back to awkward Freshman year. Now, we're attending the same college. It's ridiculous how close we are. Everyday, we see each other for at least an hour. If he's not in my dorm room, I'm in his (probably to the chagrin of his roommate). Our dream is to own a house in the area (mucho dinero!) and live together. We've even started calling each other husband and wife.* Our marriage is officially recognized on facebook.com.
Anyway, Alex and I caught a movie tonight, the Corpse Bride to be exact at the Three Penny Theatre. It's an...interesting place. The center focus was slightly askew which pissed me off, but other than that, it was a precious movie, not as good as Nightmare Before Christmas, but good enough. But this isn't a place for a movie review...
While walking home, it suddenly occurred to me that I lived in Chicago. My long-time dreams of being a metropolitan are finally true. I live in the heart of the city and I'm loving it. The bustle and noise of the streets flows through my veins and into my soul. I feel like I'm dreaming most of the time. "This can't be happening to me," is usually my thought. But it is happening to me. I really live in the greatest city in the WORLD!
During my first two weeks of school, my mother decided to tell people that I didn't go off to college, but rather, that I had gone to Heaven.
At first, I was slightly offended. How dare my mother let people assume that I had died, and my mother some creepy devout Christian.
But it really is heaven here, heaven in the form of college. How could I have gone anywhere else?
*Alex is gay.


An evil force has wormed its way into the heart of Chicagoland, an evil, addictive conspiracy, much like cigarettes and cocaine. This crazy fad I speak of is Sudoku, or Su Doku.
The concept is simple, and really doesn't require any mathematical skill, but the numbers are everywhere. It's like a crossword puzzle, but numbers. A newspaper or Sudoku book or Sudoku online will publish a box filled in with the occasional number. Your job is to "Fill in the grid so that every row, every column, and every 3x3 box contains the digits 1 through 9." (sudoku.com)
Simple enough, right? WRONG! It has to be one of the most frustrating one-person game I've ever played, but people are going crazy over this number game! My best friend Alex was the first person I knew who seemed really hooked. He's amazing at any inane game ever invented (Boggle, Scrabble, Set, Gauntlet, Worms). Now, he's so good he can complete an entire puzzle correctly in five minutes.
Every day I see at least one stranger playing Sudoku, and even more if I take mass transit of any kind.
Over the weekend I went to Borders and an entire table was devoted to Sudoku books.
But now that I've done some research, it's not just Chicago that has been affected. Earlier this year, newspapers in London started publishing Sudoku puzzles, and in the mid 80's the Japanese (who didn't create the game but gave it its name today which means "single number") devoured the 81 little boxes.
This week, according to USA Today, three Sudoku books made the top 50 best sellers list.
I'm not completely opposed to Sudoku, I just can't do it. I don't have the logic or the patience to fill out the puzzle.
Try it for yourself. The least it can do is drive you insane.



I have decided that this blog will be dedicated to the people I meet and see while in Chicago. I already have a couple of stories about strange people here on the streets.


Starting over

I just deleted my long-time blog, toofrumpyforthem.blogspot.com, but I feel that I have grown out of it. No one wants to hear a whining teenager anymore.
And so, for the time being, there will be this one. A no pressure sort of blog, a blog that hasn't found its purpose yet.