Saturday Night + Me = LAME!

This is the second weekend in a row that I spend it at home . . . and . . . all alone, mind you.

This is what I did last night . . .  I ate Chinese take-out. Watched "Ghost Whisperer" & "Lipstick Jungle" while folding laundry. Checked my E-mail. Read "Twilight" and went to bed. 

Well today I find myself doing the exact same thing. I am so boring right now. I feel so domestic and I'm not sure why. I'm going to blame the weather; it's gloomy and wet and I'm listening to Matt Nathanson, which always puts me in a good, but nostalgic mood.

My friend D just text me, he's out on the town and he has TWO dates tonight, yes he double booked, and I can't even get ONE! What's wrong with this picture? I live in New York City for crying out loud and I'm at home on a Saturday night, getting ready for bed (and it's only 9:24 PM). I'm also really curious to find out what's going to happen between Bella Sawnson and Edward Cullen. Oh my, if this isn't the definition of a homebody, I don't know what is. 

I need to get out of my apartment! 

I need to go out to a bar and meet a guy!

"I need to put on a tight skirt / And flirt with a stranger"

(Thanks for that Jonathan Larson)

I need to change this pattern fast before I look at my youth and wonder were it went.

Oh geez, I'm so not looking forward to the Winter if this is how I'm feeling in the Fall.

(Sighs)

Reprising A Role

For the past three years I've been teaching undergrads as part of my job in grad school. When I graduated in May that stopped. It's been about six months since I've taught anything and I feel hallow. There's something about being in front of a classroom; lecturing on theatre, teaching non-actors how to act, discussing gay plays and looking at how they influenced the history of theatre, that I dearly miss.

Well . . . starting tomorrow . . . I will reprise that role. I'm walking into the same situation that I stepped in over three years ago; I'm going to be a one-on-one tutor for kids K-12. I don't know if I'm going to be a good tutor and that petrifies me. I'm not going to lie, but I will rise to the occasion. These kids and their parents are depending on me and I will not let them down. I didn't let my undergrads down and I will not let these young kids down either.

I may not have all the answers and that's all right. Saying, "I don't know, but I'll find out for you," isn't a flaw, it's a actually a strength that took me time to polish. 

I recently got hired by Young Playwrights Inc., an organization founded by Stephen Sondheim in the early 80s. Through Young Playwrights Inc., I'll be attending high schools and middle schools, teaching Playwriting to young playwrights. I'm really looking forward to this experience; I'll be teaching something that I love and a craft that I'm still narrowing down. I really believe in the organization's mission and what they're all about.

My ultimate teaching goal is to give classes at Columbia and/or NYU. I know that it will happen in the not so near future. I work hard for what I want . . . it will take time, that I know . . . but it will happen. If being a teacher has taught me anything is to persevere and have patience.

Glitz & Glamour

A week ago today, I went on a date with a guy that I had met at a bar while my parents were in town. We had flirted the whole evening, to the point that my mother asked me for a napkin so she could give this guy my number. The thought of my mother giving this cute guy my number gave me chills, so I introduced myself and avoided the embarrassment. Our first exchange was great; we had drinks after my parents left, and we exchanged numbers, and a couple of kisses all over Hell's Kitchen.

On our first date, Rodney and I had planned to do dinner somewhere in midtown. That day I text him to confirm and he replied letting me know that his friend had invited him to an opening of a new restaurant on Madison and 5th and that we would be drinking and eating for free. He said my favorite word in the English dictionary; FREE. So I agreed. We met at 8:00 P.M. and upon arrival there was a list to get in, tons of flashy people, booze flowing like the Nile River, and appetizers that could have feed a whole Nigerian tribe. 

As Rodney came down the staircase, he was like I had remembered him; his glance endearing, his smile mesmerizing, and his style off the hook. He took me to the VIP booth that his friend was in and got me a drink. 

I can get use to this, I thought. 

For a brief moment, I believed that this is how my life in New York should be. I had a Sex and the City moment; I had a great-gorgeous guy sitting next to me, I was at an opening of a hot restaurant, and having an amazing conversation. 

Could it get any better? I wondered. 

Well, the night went from amazing to sour . . . as we were leaving the restaurant, he told me that the guy that liked him or had a fling with was going to be at this bar in Hell's Kitchen, where we were heading to. Rodney asked me not to go because it would make that guy really uncomfortable if I showed up with him. 

This happened so fast that I didn't have time to process anything, when I realized what had happened he was getting in a cab with his friend heading Uptown and I was left in the cold feeling like a cheap whore.

The thing is . . .  looking back on that night, yes Rodney is a douche bag for what he did, but at the same time he was just being honest and letting me know that he wasn't interested. I mean I can't hate the guy, but I can resent his approach. I haven't had any communication with him and I doubt that I will. 

The smell of his cologne still haunts me.

A Faith Resorted

I went to church yesterday, on my own accord. Not because it was my cousin's daughter's baptism, or because my mother was forcing to me to go. I went to support my friend Adam conduct the church choir and also because it's a gay friendly church; the pastor is gay. So I figured it might be something exciting to experience. I also had a small agenda, I figured that there might be cute boys at Church (and I was right). 

Sitting there, listening to his sermon I realized that the reason I had distanced myself from God and the church has been a stupid one. I always believed that God didn't love me because I was gay...I know...I know...I said the reason was stupid. But when Pastor Phillip said that 'God loves all his children..." I believed him...for the first time in my life I believed him. Not sure if it was because Pastor Phillip is gay and coming from another gay man's lips it's actually real.  

Maybe my faith is resorted a little bit...one thing I know is that I'm going to return on Sunday. I liked being there, it's not like your typical church that I'm use to. This is good for me right now. I need to hold on to something...I need to believe that there is something more than this...

Secrets

We all have secrets lingering in our lives; they make us who we are, without them, we're nothing, and yet we're everything.

We hide them because we're afraid of what they might represent. If we tell a single soul of our secret we run the fear of having that party glare at us with disapproving eyes.

Sometimes we hide those secrets deep within ourselves in the hopes that they will never surface. Eventually, those secrets hidden in our past, find a way of surfacing putting our current life in danger.

Secrets mean ownership. They mold us, shape us, break us. They signify something that we can't share with the rest of the world, and if we do, the ownership dissolves. 

Secrets are putrid . . . heartwarming . . . seductive . . . lustful . . . taunting . . . but they are ours; mine and yours.

Some secrets have been known to shatter the most perfect of lives.

And other secrets can wake us up at 3:00 A.M. short of breath because they're haunting our dreams.

We all have secrets; some more painful than others, and some that should never be spoken.

National Coming Out Day - 2008

To all the individuals who’ve had the courage to come out.

And to my generous friends who’ve shared their stories with me.

We all come from different backgrounds, religions, and cultures. We are lawyers, bankers, students, nurses, architects, writers, brothers, mothers, cousins, and so forth...

Some of us have been out since the age of fourteen and for some others it’s taken a bit longer. But our common thread is that we’ve all had to come out at one point or another.

“Coming out isn’t about being gay. That’s just who you are. Coming out is about being comfortable with being gay.” Adam a good-friend of mine summarized it best. “Straight men aren’t forced to face their sexuality head on like we have to. We have to be sure that we are ready to face the world. We never stop coming out.”

Once we’ve accepted and have come out to ourselves, then the hardest part follows; telling those around.

I came out nine years ago, but even before coming out I knew. My body never lied to me. I remember being in the locker room in the seventh grade and checking out all the sweaty boys after P.E. class. I knew it wasn’t “normal” to check out boys, because my Mexican-Catholic upbringing. I ended up lying to myself and pretend to like girls, but deep down I always knew that the feelings that I was having for boys was normal. Nine years later, I’ve fully accepted and have embraced who I am.

National Coming Out Day is on Saturday, October 11th, this is an international event which gives the LGBT community the opportunity to “come out” to others about their sexuality. The first National Coming Out Day was held on the same day in 1988. It was chosen for the annual event in commemoration of the 1987 March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights, in which 500,000 people marched on Washington D.C. for gay and lesbian equality. It also marks the anniversary of the first visit of the AIDS Memorial Quilt to Washington D.C.

My wonderful friends were generous to share their coming out stories with me. They also offer inspirational words for anyone who’s considering in coming out.

Travis a twenty-three year-old Computer Specialist was raised Mormon, but now he’s agnostic, this is his story…

It first happened when I went to my Stake President and had the Missionary interview. This was to be the last interview before turning in my papers to the head offices. He asked me the same question that I had heard my Bishop ask me, "Have you ever been involved in a gay relationship or supported a gay cause or felt that you were gay in anyway?" For some peculiar reason this came out of my mouth, "I thought I might have been." Naturally he didn't sign my papers. I got very upset and stormed out of his office. I had to tell my mom why my papers weren’t getting sent off. This was the first time she heard anything about me being gay. At that point, I told her that I knew I wasn't and wasn't sure why I had said that. I still wanted very, very badly to go on a Mission.

After a few more months of working with the Stake President and a psychologist, I had another interview and the papers went off, but they came back from the head office telling me that I couldn't go. A few months passed and one day over the phone, after wrestling with it, I told my mom that I was gay and was sure of it. I don't think that stuck with her until I moved back home and we went on a walk together and she brought it up. She told me that I was making a wrong choice and that I should really think about what I was doing. I have thought about this for three years and had nearly killed myself in the process, I told her. The way her beliefs work and because my father wasn't around, she felt the need to tell me that if I choose this I was going to hell. She said that she would never accept me for who I was, but would still love me. And she did just that. I wasn't kicked out of the home or given any less help and support when I was trying to recover my life. She stood by me the whole way.

J.D. a twenty-year-old sophomore in Communication Studies had a different experience, this is his story…

Coming out was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I was so afraid of rejection that I was willing to compromise my happiness to make others comfortable. After I came out, I felt like a gigantic weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. Some people will accept you; they’re your true friends. Those who don’t don’t deserve to be part of your life.

The first person that I told was gay was my best friend Taylor. Her and I became very close friends in middle school. And I learned from spending time with her that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She loved everyone, and was my inspiration to come out. She always stayed true to herself, being the odd one in our group, but was never afraid to show her emotions, and didn’t apologize for doing so. We were fourteen when I told her that I was gay. She said, “…so? I thought it was something important.” I’ve always felt that she’s one of the greatest people in my life.

When I asked Miles and Charlie when they realized it was okay for them to be who they are this is what they had to say…

Miles: I don’t remember an exact moment of being okay with being gay, but I remember day after day wondering why God would make me this way if he didn’t want me to be this way, then thinking, “If God doesn’t like this, then fuck him. If being myself is wrong, then go ahead and send me to hell.” Those hard feeling eventually smoothed out into a healthier self-acceptance over the next few months.

Charlie: I think I’m fairly okay with it, but to this day I still have minute issues at times. Nothing TOO crazy, but I guess it just comes from the high school stereotype of “will I fit in if they know I’m gay.” I’m constantly proven that I WILL be accepted if I’m out; it’s just a force of habit I guess.

If you’re considering coming out, here’s advice from people who’ve been there…

* It takes a lot of strength. But it gets easier each time. Take things at your own speed and that the only thing that matters is how you feel about yourself. What other people think is completely irrelevant.

* Take your time; think about it, but most importantly TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT IT! Honey, we’re in 2008 and things have changed just from even five years ago. It’s okay to be gay. People WILL be okay with it. Besides, we’re a lot more fun.

* Worry about the family first. There are loads of people out there today who are excepting of who you are. You can get new friends, but you only have one family.

* Make sure you have some place safe to support you both physically and emotionally—and make sure that the support is not coming from some who wants to use you.

* Always be honest. Don’t try to lead a double life. It isn’t worth it and you’ll go insane. Honesty maybe hard at times and it make your situation look hopeless, but it is worth it in the end and you will have no guilty feelings for being honest and straightforward from the beginning. 

*No matter what you believe, you only get to live THIS life once. There comes a point in your life when you have to say, “Am I going to spend my life living it for other people, or am I going to spend my life living it for me?”

Just be you. The best version of yourself. That’s all you can do. No matter what…

Here's a link to the Human Rights Campaign - National Coming Out Day Video 2008 

A Season of Change

The humidity that lingered in my hair, revealing its natural curly texture has now vanished. The sweat that once laid on my forehead like an annoying neighbor is now being cooled off by the icy chill of the wind that flies around the streets of Manhattan, like a dog barking when an intruder has invaded its territory. This can only mean one thing; fall is slowly creeping in, like a thief in the night.

Experiencing my first fall in New York is something that I have dreamed about since I purchased my first scarf eight years ago at the Gap in the Galleria Mall, in Riverside. Now I have a reason to wear them and no one looks at me with bewildered glances and confused stares, when I walk around in  a cashmere scarf, like they did when I lived in Vegas or California.

As the weather changes, I find myself gravitating into the person that I'm going to become. Several months ago, I thought I knew who I was, I thought I had all the answers, but spending the last four months in New York has truly opened my eyes to a reality I only saw on the big screen. New York has kicked my ass, which is molding me into a strong individual. I've learned that if you're not always on your toes this city will eat you up, like a hungry pit bull devouring its dinner.

I'm currently in-between jobs; the theatre job that I had started and finished in the blink of an eye. I'll be starting two new jobs in several weeks, giving me plenty of free time to write at different Starbucks all over Manhattan, and this thrills me. This is what I always wanted to do and I'm living my dream. (Although my dream didn't consist of living pay-check-to-pay-check, but struggling is part of life. Or at least I tell myself that every day).

I'm surprising myself constantly; I read now. Who knew! The fact that I actually love it is something that perplexes me. I yearn for those moments when I can ride the subway and continue reading my Christopher Rice novel. He's got to be one of the most talented writers out there; I totally have a crush on Christopher. (I know that my former roommate would be really happy to know that I have become a bookworm).

As I write this blog, on the Starbucks on 49th street between 8th and 9th avenues, there is this gay mature couple sitting to my right. I believe they're on their first date because of their body language and the questions I can hear being asked through my iPOD. I can't help to wonder how they met, what it's like to date at their age, and what they're going to do after they leave Starbucks. The first stages of a relationship are always the most exciting part of dating. Whoever this couple is, I wish them the best.

I'm such a romantic, which is a double edge sword in my community. But I'm still looking, which might not be the best idea for me right now, since I'm still figuring myself out. I guess, what I really want is to go on a date with a guy who has the same interest in me as I do in him and who isn't going to play games. My roommate asked me what I want out of a relationship and I went blank, which is a clear sign that I need to figure things out. But what I do know is that I don't want to spend my time in New York alone. I read somewhere that life is too much fun to spend alone, and I agree.

The other night while talking to my friend Emmett, he said something that left me breathless, as if I was getting tackled after catching a football pass, that I wasn't suppose to intercept, "How am I suppose to to date my ideal dream man," he noted, "if I'm not the ideal man that I want to be? I'm not in a place in my life right now that I thought I'd be."

His words still haunt me. They haunt me as I write this, "How am I suppose to date my ideal man, if I'm not the ideal man that I want to be?" And he's right. For me, I know that I'm not the ideal man that I wan to be be. At least not yet, I am far from it.

As I begin to work on the ideal man that I will become, I will eventually attract that ideal man that will occupy a place next to my bed and will be on the Christmas cards we send out, every year. "He's out there, you probably already exchanged glances on the subway and you just don't know he's the one," this is something that I constantly tell myself every time I go to bed. (Isn't it interesting how I always seem to bring it back to dating and love in these blogs? It might mean something. I will ask my therapist what it means, when I can afford a therapist).

The season is changing in New York, and so am I. I have a feeling I will constantly be changing, molding myself into the person that I'm destined to be.

Stay tuned loyal readers . . . 

(Times Square, October 08)