It took me 3 months to finally decide on buying a digital camera. And when I place the order? They call me and say the "item is no longer available." Do they know the turmoil I went through to make the decision in the first place? I can barely make a decision on what to eat for dinner every night, let alone commit to buying technology. My life is so hard sometimes.
Does anyone have an old digital camera they no longer use, because it's kinda junky/you have a better one/whatever? Send it to me. I have things to photograph. Leave me a message in my comments section and I'll email my PO Box to you. In fact, if you have a present of any sort, I'll take it, presuming it's not worth any actual monetary value, as that crosses the line into weirdness. Now is your chance to get rid of the random crap you don't want, but can't bring yourself to throw away.
Do you have something to profess? Is it time to spill the beans?
Rumor has it that, in celebration of this day, I'm the guest speaker at a university or two. Apparently I am an expert on bean-spilling. I can't wait to share my expertise.
Actually, I used to do this public-speaking stuff all the time; then I pulled out of the circuit for a while, as I hated getting on airplanes. But when I started walking around talking to myself as if I was in front of an audience, I realized I was kinda bored. So I'm doing a few jobs again. We'll see if I can get it together once more.
The "coming out" idea is often reserved for the gayness issue, but really it's just about owning your true self, and making peace with whomever it is you are. You can tell someone else your news if you want, but being happy and content with yourself is really the only important part. Sharing things just re-affirms it. And it can be fun shocking the hell out of people.
Maybe you have something to share, maybe you'll have a chance to listen, maybe it's time you figure out what's going on in your head. Whatever the case, best of luck. And perhaps, if I see you sometime on (or a few days before) October 11, you can tell me your story. I'll listen.
What happens in the world right now? Not much, I can tell you.
Storms have pummelled the area all night with sexy cracks of lightning and huge puddles of flash-flooding everywhere. But now that it's over, the sky is a weird shade of pinkish-orange, as if it's raw from all the abuse. It's not the sunrise; it's been like this for an hour, out west where it should be totally black. I don't know what it's from. With tornados (tornadoes? like tomatoes, perhaps?) the sky turns green. I don't know what this color means.
I have multitudes of maps and almanacs and such, filled with all the places I am obsessed with seeing. When I was a wee lad, my aspirations focused on this country's borders, as I figured I should check out this place of which I was a citizen and subsequently a small teeny-tiny little part of the society. For instance, I wanted to see Rhode Island, as I imagined the little state was probably somewhat cramped. I was absolutely obsessed with experiencing Idaho, just because I had never met someone who had been to Idaho...what was it like? I imagined the moon, with blue sky and trees. I wanted to go to both North Dakota and South Dakota, just to see which one I liked better. Beverly Cleary set her "Beezus and Ramona" books in Portland, Oregon, so I couldn't WAIT to see what Portland was all about in real-life. Never did I have any urge to go to Florida, or California, or wherever the tourists go. Not very adventurous.
It's raining again. Can you hear it on the leaves of the trees? Pitter patter pitter patter pat. The crickets don't care, they're still chirping.
Then my horizons broadened to the rest of the planet, and I started reading about Venice (the Italian one, not the Californian one). Touristy, yes, but all those canals sounded just silly enough to be interesting. Seriously, how utterly inconvenient is it to walk out your front door and have to get into a boat? Romance aside, it sounds pretty stupid. I couldn't wait to try it out for a few days. I also wanted to see Iceland, as I imagined it was like Idaho. Palau, just because I couldn't imagine what people do there all day...and I like the name. Then there's Thailand, but not because of the touristy stuff; it's the only country in south or east Asia that wasn't colonized by Europe at some point, and I always thought that was pretty ballsy.
I've started to see these places with the various work I've done over the years, with the public speaking and the modeling and the Real World Challenging and such. Rhode Island? Check. North Dakota? Check. (South Dakota? No check yet.) The exotic, mysterious Idaho? Check. Alabama, Maine, West Virginia, almost everywhere, locations people usually don't have a reason to go to unless they're already there. So far, Fargo is my favorite, although I can't necessarily explain why. Big Sur, in California, is a close 2nd. Yes it's touristy, but I give in to it this one time.
I still need to see Oregon, Montana, Mississippi, Alaska, and Hawaii, and then I have this country under control. (And South Dakota, but I already said that.) I have been to Puerto Rico, and that's sorta a state...my favorite place in the Caribbean so far. The interior of the island is super-cool. I've also been to Panama, and the Canal used to be part of the U.S., so that's worth something. TOTALLY boring, by the way. Snore.
When I was in Italy, I could have gone to Venice, but I didn't think I was ready. So I decided to wait. I'll go back someday.
My new obsession: Eritrea. East African culture meets former-Italian-colony modernism. Weird. I'm also experiencing an intensification in my urge to see Oregon. And my desire to see Iceland is at an all-time high. Why? No reason. Which is the best reason of all, I think.
I'm not sleepy yet. Maybe Jeff will stop snoring so I can fall back asleep soon. I have a big day ahead of me, I need my sleep.
That's it for now. I'm just thinking about the world. Remember your dreams, people.
DO NOT PRESUME I AM MAKING ANY SORT OF POLITICAL ENDORSEMENT HERE. I'm just talking about them as individuals. As if anyone cares who I vote for, anyway. I'm not exactly a political expert. Although voting is good and we should all do it. I digress.
Basically, for me, the presidential election is going to come down to whether I would rather see Teresa Heinz Kerry terrorizing the White House like a screaming banshee, or more news coverage of the Bush twins getting wasted in public places. Either scenario sounds delicious.
Lisa Whelchel, the smiling, Stepford-ish purveyor of parental perfectionism, has written a book all about how to punish kids.
In one chapter, she explains how to put hot sauce on your kid's tongue to punish him/her for lying.
Perhaps she is just sadistic. Perhaps she has gone completely nuts after decades of people asking her if she's still friends with Tootie. First Martha gets sentenced to jail, and now Lisa Whelchel is torturing her kids with tabasco sauce. I need to leave my TV off for a little while to let all this pass. That, and for (the seemingly God-awful)Life & Style to take a quick nose-dive so Kimora Lee Simmons can go back to judging America's Next Top Model, where she belongs.
I usually don't bother with movies/TV shows about Hollywood--it seems pretty lazy for a bunch of writers and actors in LA to write about and act in movies/TV shows about LA. Contrary to popular belief, LA and New York are not the only 2 places that exist in America. Like there isn't anything more interesting to talk about than movie star wannabe parties? Notting Hill was good, but other than that, I've avoided the whole genre.
But I've given in with Entourage, the surprisingly meaningful show on HBO that explores how the media treats people as if they're commodities worth money. Which is gross, if you think about it, but it's true. Any person who has ever looked out west and dreamed of making it big as a movie star in California needs to watch the show and learn what the scene is really like. And then, in theory, make the right decision and stay away and live a much happier life doing something else.
The show tells the story of a guy from the East Coast who moves to LA to be a big-budget celeb, all the while dragging along his friends and his has-been, once-famous-but-now-washed-up brother. It's producd by Marky Mark, who became a big-budget celeb beneath the shadow of his once-famous-but-now-washed-up brother Donny Wahlberg, my personal favorite New Kid On The Block. I know Jordan Knight was the front man, and he had the fancy hair which I did copy for my high school yearbook photo thank you very much, but Donny always seemed cooler. Until I realized the group sucked and I never paid attention again. Anyway--
The glory of the show is watching the has-been brother (played by the BRILLIANTLY pathetic Kevin Dillon) humiliate himself in bouts of jealousy during every episode, and feeling so sorry for poor Donny. Because if that character is based on Donny--and it MUST--poor Donny must be miserable and Mark must really have a grudge against him, because the character is a total dipshit.
The bad news: I had to fly to Chicago last-minute for my grandmother's funeral.
The good news: I am in Chicago for the weekend.
The other bad news: Lately I have this unattractive habit of spontaneously getting tears in my eyes, often in public places.
The other good news: I'm learning how to control my facial expressions better when I cry, so I'm more like Demi Moore in "Ghost" than Halle Berry in "Monster's Ball." It still needs a little work, though.
The really bad news: My sweet, hilarious, beloved Grandma died.
Rumor has it that Jesse Jackson is bribing white supremacists into silence with free front-row tickets to the Jeff Foxworthy Redneck Comedy Tour and a 10% discount off registration to Jerry Falwell's Liberty University Online Bible Institute. Get in line now while supplies last.
On the subject of things that I find odd:
Good job, U.S. Olympic gymnasts, with winning medals and stuff. But if your steroid-crazy squeaky voices were any higher, only dogs and bats would be able to hear you. Chill out with the juice and let your testicles plump back up to normal size, please.