Sunday, June 24, 2007

Pride

So, last weekend I spent pretty much the entire weekend volunteering for Pride and have been meaning to post about it for quite some time now. Pride this year was a fair bit of drama. Not awful or anything, I'd say that last year there was more issue with the personalities that were involved and this year there was more issue with the disorganization. Due to a shift in the coordinator of Pride, there were a few (to be expected) flub-ups in terms of getting things all coordinated, and so a few mistakes were made. (one particularly bad oversight involved me attempting to direct traffic away from the parade site, and a number of rather large people, in rather large SUVs telling me that they would run me over if I didn't get out of their way) But overall, the Pride was a success! It is odd now. I still volunteer at Pride, and I do get a sense of accomplishment about the work I do for this event. But now, the actual event means so much less to me. I now live Pride vicariously, through my memory of my former self. I recall the first time that I went to Pride, I was just blown away (not literally, you sickos!). I remember how incredible the feeling was, to feel like I was surrounded by a crowd of people who understood me and supported me. I was so new to gay culture then, and all of the drag queens, leather men and just plain 'ole vanilla queers were such novelty. It wasn't as though I could identify with everyone in the crowd of people that I met, but it didn't matter. I felt unified with the community, and for probably the first time, I felt accepted. It all sounds so terribly corny, but it is true. Pride is still an affirming event for me, but these days I guess my need is just so much less. Several years ago, I anxiously sought out a community that I could call my own. To see the thousands of people gathered at our small Lansing event meant something much deeper. Now, I suppose that I don't really need that anymore. Of course I still seek acceptance from society in general, but the pursuit no longer feels as desperate as it did then. I tend to forget the meaning that Pride once had to me, but I do hope that somewhere, amidst the drunken crowds, there is another person to whom Pride still means the world.

It's raining 300 men

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pi2t58CRmbU
I have to post this, if for no other reason than to appall Ben.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

On family...

In lab... Waiting for an incubation and friends to be ready to hang out... So I am just farting around a bit... So, my mom was in town this last weekend and I got to take off work and hang out with her for almost 2.5 days solid. Everyone asks me, "so what did you and your mom go out to see/do?" and they are generally surprised to hear that we didn't really go out all that much, just mostly hung out and talked to one another. When I tell people this, I occasionally get a look of pity or comments about how looking after my mother for a weekend sounds like a chore compared to what I could have been doing. But what people don't understand is that I have a very unusual mother... When I say that I didn't go out and do all that much, I do mean that we really only went out to eat for a little while on Friday evening (FYI, if you go to Zodiac, order the appetizers... phenomenal) and mostly either bumed around the house or went to talk over coffee. Which is true, but is also a bit misleading. You see, when my mom comes over, she packs a few things. Namely, the first thing to be unpacked from mom's luggage when we arrived back at the house was her Playstation II. And her huge dance pad. On Friday morning, we were waiting outside of the nearest GameStop. As soon as they opened, we were in and my mom was picking out a dance mat for me, to replace the ones that had worn out on her last visit. So, we get the pads and truck on back to my house where we proceed to dance the afternoon away to "Go West", "It's Raining Men", " and other such Dance Dance Revolution Classics. When we tire, mid-afternoonish, we head to the kitchen... We're parched... So, we skip the light refreshments and head straight for the Cosmos. Then, with slightly less coordination, we resume DDR. When mom comes to town, it is like one of my best friends is here for a visit. But unlike my other friend's visits, I have every excuse to tell my boss to take off some time and relax. Basically, these are some of my most treasured weekends, ever. And if that makes me a momma's boy. So be it.

Oh the nail-biting suspense!!!

So... Browsing CNN.com today I happened to run into this gem of a story: http://www.cnn.com/2007/SHOWBIZ/TV/06/07/paris.hilton/index.html Which, in a nutshell basically sez: "Your countries' legal system is a mockery of anything resembling justice. You'd best get yourself a lawyer pronto and stay on his/her good side at all costs (i.e. feed them tons of money). Because, when the shit hits the fan, if you are rich and your lawyer is smooth, you can get away with whatever you damn well please. Pay no mind to the fact that everyone in the country is probably aware of your guilt, and watching you buy your way out of your responsibilites as a citizen. Your legal system = sham." Or... If you take the narrow-minded, more literal meaning of the article, it tells you that Paris is getting out of jail for "medical reasons" (you can't see me, but I am miming really big exaggerated 'air quotes' right now...) and will serve the rest of her jail sentence under house arrest... in Beverly Hills... in her mansion... So naturally, I was thrown into a deep depression which was only alleviated by happening to run into this article: http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2007/06/08/arts/NA-A-E-CEL-US-Paris-Hilton.php Which in a nutshell tells you that there just might be a God who is out there and paying some attention... And even She doesn't like Paris Hilton... But mind you, though this story has a happy ending, the end does not necessarily justify the means... To find the second article I actually had to go to Google, click on the box and delibrately type the words: "Paris Hilton" ... I suddenly feel like some dirty thirteen-year-old straight boy who just heard of Paris' porno vid... I am ashamed...