All Good Things…

I have a problem.  It’s not necessarily a big deal problem, it’s just a problem.  I get bored.  I get bored pretty easily.  I don’t have ADD or ADHD or AED or any other acronym you might think of.  I can sit on my ass for hours watching TV or movies.  If I’m reading, I’ll stop because I can’t keep my eyes open before I stop because I’m bored.  It’s other stuff.

Those of you who visit this blog with any regularity have surely noticed that the posts have tapered off.  It’s because I’m bored.  Well, maybe bored isn’t the right term.  I’m… dissatisfied.

I started blogging last June.  I started my first blog here on WordPress two days before my 33rd birthday and had big plans.  I called the blog “Started Living” because I wanted to get out there and start living my life, something I hadn’t really been doing previously.  I created the blog on somewhat of a whim because I had something I wanted to say and I needed to get it out there.  I searched for a title that said what I wanted to convey and that hadn’t already been taken.  It’s amazing how I’m always behind the times on certain things.  I searched for “Life Starts Now”.  Somebody had it.  They hadn’t updated it in a long time, but they owned it.  I searched for “Starting Life Now”.  Same story.  “Starting Life”, “Starting Living”, “Life Starting”?  Second verse, same as the first!  Finally, I punched in “Started Living” and I got the glorious “this title is available” message.  I ran with it.

“Started Living” didn’t feel especially catchy to me.  I was frustrated with the lack of cleverness or even any real meaning behind it.  In the early days I reported some big events.  Part of my motivation behind the blog was to live more openly about my sexuality and to have a focal point and a reason to get out and start living.  I came out to a few people and I documented it on the blog.  I attended a smattering of events that happened to be taking place outside the four walls of my own apartment.  But all in all, I did not Start Living and so I started feeling unauthentic with the blog title.  I published my final post on “Started Living” on November 6, 2008.  At that point I had posted 81 articles and had 32 comments.  I’d had over 3000 hits.  But I didn’t like the direction the blog was going and I wasn’t happy with the name and so with my November 6, 2008 post “Started Living Didn’t, Finds a new Home”, I said good-bye to my unauthentic existence as a guy who hadn’t started living and hello to my truly unauthentic existence as “A Drunk in a Hard Place.”

“A Drunk in a Hard Place” was a tongue in cheek, unfunny reference to my life.  The reality is I’m not an alcoholic.  I do drink and like so many other people, I occasionally drink more than perhaps I should.  On one particular occasion, I drank much more than I should have and paid a very high price for that poor judgment.  But as a matter of course, I don’t drink a great deal and it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously.  For a time I was reading a blog called “The Drunken Housewife” and I found her writing humorous.  So “A Drunk in a Hard Place” was meant to be a humorous reference to the fact that I do drink, sometimes a lot; the fact that at times my life is really hard (isn’t everyone’s?); and, I hoped obviously, a play on “A Rock and a Hard Place”.  It was meant as a joke, and I think for the most part, it was taken that way, but I became uncomfortable with it.  I left things alone for six months because I hadn’t thought of anything better.  Then one day, finally, inspiration struck!

I spent the last almost three years in therapy, only having taken a hiatus in the last four months to try and get my finances under better control.  I am not, by any means, “done” with therapy.  Insightful Therapist said, “you’re in the middle” during our last (I was going to say “final”, but I hope it wasn’t) session, and I think she’s right, which is why it’s important for me to get back as soon as I can.  Anyway, I have come a long way in the time I have been in therapy and I’m a much happier, better person now.  I feel like I’ve benefited a lot from therapy and I feel like I’ve got something I can share with others and so I’ve started something new.

From today, those of you who read my blog with regularity and desire to deliberately follow me can find my writing at http://riggledo.wordpress.com.  I will not delete this blog and cannot say I will never post here again, but from this moment my focus and my energy will be put into Riggledo.  So, let me tell you about it!

The title is a play on my own name.  I hope it’s something that will be catchy.  In my wildest dreams I hope it’ll become something of a household name, so to speak, along the lines of “Dooce” or “Amalah“.  I’m neither a woman or a mommy so I don’t expect to fall into their league, but it is my hope, that at some point, I will have a following of readers who are as committed as these ladies have and that “Riggledo” will be as much of a “household name” as these ladies.  Perhaps that will never happen but I can certainly give it a shot!

Riggledo is a conglomeration of my last name, Riggs, and what is part of the focus of the blog, to help my readers to remember that they’re “OK” just the way they are.  In other words, my name is Kevin Riggs, and I’ll do just fine just the way I am!  Riggledo (and so will you.)

OK.  End of the shameless self promotion!  And I hope this is not a “good-bye”, but rather a “follow me”.  I’m headed over to Riggledo and I hope you’ll come along!  See you there!

Magic Pills

I just read a blog post that has really got me thinking.  It started with a tweet on Twitter.  Anita1956 said, “Would I take the straight pill? Here’s my answer.” with a link to her blog http://tinyurl.com/aa78mp.  Here’s what she said:


The Straight Pill

Date March 13, 2009

If there was a pill that could make me straight

…..Straight in body

…..Straight in mind

…..Straight in heart

…....I would not take it.

If taking such a pill would restore all my lost friendships

…..And regain my parents pride

…..And give back my families respect

…..…..I would not take it.

If taking such a pill would return me to my former ministry

…..And the admiration of the congregation

…..And the loving welcome of the church

…..…..I would not take it.

If taking such a pill would replace the love I have for my wife with an equal love for a man

…..And we could legally marry

…..And we would be granted full rights under the law without fighting for them

…..…..I would not take it.

If taking such a pill would mean no one would reject me for being who I am

…..And for saying what I believe

…..And for standing boldly as one who follows Christ

…..…..I would not take it.

If taking such a pill could take the world back in time,

…..Before I came out of the closet,

…..Before I said I was gay

…..Before I knew I was gay

…..Before inequality touched me

…..Before hate revealed its ugliness to me

…..Before anyone rejected me

…..Before anything was lost to me

…..Before I ever questioned God’s love for me

…..…..I would not take it.

If taking that pill would make me straight

…..And famous

…..And wealthy

…..And talented

…..And adored

…..And beautiful

…..And thin

…....I would not take it.

…....I would not take it.

…....I. Would. Not. Take. It.

I would never take a pill that would make me straight because

…....I love being who I am

…....I love being whole and free

…….I love seeing the world from where I stand

…....I love knowing God from this place

…....I love feeling passion burning in me for equality

…....I love being part of a people who are courageous and relentless

…....I love being one in Spirit with every queer youth

…………..With every gay man and woman

……………With every bisexual man and woman

…………..With every transman and transwoman

……………With every ally and friend

……………With everyone who questions, doubts and searches

…….And I love being one in Spirit with you

……………Bound in hope, and faith, and love

……………Bound in God

If there was a pill I could take that would make you straight

………..And taking that pill would end all your confusion and anxiety

……….And remove your fear that God has rejected you

……………I would not take that pill even for you.

You are gay.

…..You are not wrong.

…..…..You are not sinful.

…..…..…..You are not evil or perverted.

…..…....…..You are not unworthy.

…..…..…..…..…..You are not a mistake.

…..…..…..…..…..…..You are not to be ashamed.

You are gay.

…..God loves you.

…..…..God holds you.

…..…..…..God stands with you.

…..…..…..…..God delights in you.

…..…..…..…..…..God calls you “My own.”

If there was a pill that could make me straight

…..And make you straight

…..And you

…..And you

…..And you

…....I would not take it.

…....I would not take it.

…....I. Would. Not. Take. It.

Before I even clicked the link to her blog I answered that question for myself.  “Yes!  I’d take that pill in a heartbeat!” Being gay is one of the biggest struggles I’ve ever dealt with in my life and most of the time I feel like if I could chose not to be gay, I would.

Growing up in a “Christian” home as a gay boy is an incredible challenge.  It is made abundantly clear to you from the beginning that homosexuality is wrong, that homosexuality is a perversion, and that homosexuals are damned for all eternity.  There is an incredible amount of fear that is driven into Christian children about hell and sin and damnation and we learn from a very young age that we want to do everything in our power to make sure we don’t go there.  This results in tremendous amounts of guilt and shame.

For me, the shame was too much to bear and I denied who I was for most of my life.  I chose to believe that I was not gay, that there were other, perfectly legitimate reasons why I was aroused by the images of the male models in the International Male and Undergear catalogues I subscribed to when I was a teenager.  I convinced myself that one day, when I met the woman God had in store for me, I would be physically attracted to her and I would feel normal and complete.

I finally began to admit to myself that I was gay and accept who I was about four years ago and I said it out loud for the first time when I told my therapist two years ago.  By this time, I had read the bible, The King James version, from cover to cover and learned that what I had been told my entire life was cut and dried, well, it really wasn’t.  I learned that there were a lot of discrepancies between the things I had been taught to believe and what I determined for myself in those pages.  I learned that while the Bible is an important resource that there is more research to be done and so I did.

I researched on-line the question of whether homosexuality is an immorality, whether it’s a sin and what it means to be gay and a Christian.  When it all started, I went in search of something definitive that would tell me what I was already sure must be true:  That Homosexuality is, in fact, an irrefutable sin.  What I found instead, was a whole lot of the same rhetoric, the same answers and explanations about why homosexuality is wrong, with all of the same holes that I had yet to explain away.  The same holes that made me question the accuracy, the validity of what I’d been taught.  These holes left me with questions and doubts.  The explanations didn’t sit well with me.  They didn’t feel… They didn’t feel true.  I believe that we all, each of us, possess a spirit that is to some extent or other, in tune with the Holy Spirit.  I started to realize that the reason these explanations didn’t feel or seem right to me is because my spirit knew they weren’t.  My spirit was hungry for the truth.

So I dug deeper and I found several resources with more information.  I found resources that did a better job of explaining what the various Biblical references which are used against us might have really meant.  I found scholarly authors who had a deeper understanding of what the times and the languages were like, and how the Bible might have been translated incorrectly over the generations and centuries that have passed.  And I found a reminder that the God I love and serve is a loving God who wants the best for me, who wants me to be happy.  I finally came to accept that the thoughts and feelings and urges that I was stifling for so many years, close to 30 of them, were normal and natural and a part of me, who I am, the way God made me.

I didn’t take this information lightly, and I didn’t set out to find justification for me to behave in a way that was not morally right.  Honestly, I set out to prove, once and for all, that what I was taught my whole life was absolute fact and that I had to continue to suffer until God saw fit change me and make me “normal”.  I resisted the things that I read that told me that I was OK as a gay man.  I resisted the urge to rejoice at the affirmations that I found because surely, as my mother would have told me were she involved, I was “possessed of the Devil”, I was “being deceived.”  Surely it wasn’t possible that I could, in fact, be gay and be acceptable in God’s sight.  But the evidence mounted, the case was made over and over again… and my spirit?  My spirit was at peace.  I stopped hurting.  I started healing.  I told my four closest friends.

I still struggle with the internalized homophobia that I was raised in.  I still struggle with accepting myself, but now, it’s because I’m programmed this way, not because I really believe that there’s anything wrong with whom I am.  I have to believe that as time moves on, I’ll struggle less and less and be more and more content in my life.

What I really struggle with, though, is the shame.  Not shame because I think there’s something wrong, but shame because I’m so sure everyone else will.  I get anxious when I write something like this because I’m sure that someone will read this and tell me that I can’t be both gay and a Christian.  (Of course I can.)  I’m afraid someone will read this and begin to scrutinize me and my behavior in a different way now that they know I call myself a Christian.  (I’m not living my life for those people, but no one likes to be judged.)  The truth is I hold myself up to the measure my mother has set out for me and I know I fail miserably.  Most days I’m OK with that.  I know I will never measure up to her expectations and I know that most of her expectations are unreasonably high anyway, but part of my internal programming is to see her expectations as those of all Christians and I assume I’ll be judged and condemned by all of them for one reason or another once they learn that I call myself one of them.  (I don’t really call myself one of them and I suspect that will make for another lengthy blog post in the future, but the terminology is the same even if the intent is different.)

The shame that I struggle with has crippled me with regard to coming out to my family.  Not a single member of my family knows that I’m gay while I have to believe some of them may suspect.  It is with this knowledge that as I bring this post nearer to its conclusion and prepare to press that “publish” button I am shaking and feeling genuine anxiety about putting this information out there for the world to see.  You see, my Twitter account updates my Facebook status.  My brother is my only immediate family member who is on Facebook.  I post links to my new blog posts on Twitter which means they’ll show up on Facebook as well.  It is not a stretch to think that my brother will actually see this post and because I am such a coward, this is how he’s going to learn the truth.  Will he say anything to me?  I don’t know.  Will he tell other members of my family?  He might.  Am I disappointed in myself that I can’t just say it to them?  Of course I am.

So if such a pill existed that could make me straight, would I take it?  I’m afraid that is not as simple a question as I first thought it was.  I’d be inclined to take it.  I’d never have to worry about telling my family the truth.  I’d never have to worry about facing the internalized doubts and fears that persist.  I’d never have to worry about having to tell people in my daily life.  And I’d never have to worry about trying to learn how to date as a gay man, or find someone that I could happily spend the rest of my life with.  Life would certainly be easier if I were straight.

On the other hand, maybe taking that pill would be like turning my back on everything that I learned in this process; that God did not make a mistake when he made me; that I am gay because that is how God intended it; that there is nothing wrong with me just because I’m gay; and that God loves me every bit as much today as he did the day I invited him into my heart as my personal Lord and Savior and the only thing that has really changed is, now, I know the truth.

If there was a pill that I could take that would make me straight, would I take it?  I’m sad to say that it would be a tough decision to make, but in the end, No, I would not take it.


———————————————————————————————

My special thanks to Anita, author of the blog that started this, first for writing the post to begin with and second, for granting me her blessing to re-post it here for all to see.

Germy Germison

Green M&M is a borderline neurotic germaphobe. She carries Ass Gaskets (toilet seat liners) in her purse. Despite this, in public bathrooms, she still hovers to pee, uses her foot to flush, dispenses the paper towel before she washes her hands and uses the paper towel to turn off the faucets and open the bathroom doors. When her now nearly (GASP!) 16 year old nephew was a little boy, she passed this crazy on to him (possibly not the hovering part).

It goes without saying that I give her a never ending rash of shit over this obsessive compulsive behavior. She responds that people are gross (granted) and that it’s unhealthy not to do these things. I remind her that if these things were true we wouldn’t be here now. I’m pretty sure cavemen didn’t have Ass Gaskets. The prairie dwelling farmers of the 18th century had no running water or disinfecting hand soap. Hell, Purell hand sanitizer, in which she should own stock, didn’t even exist until the last decade or so.

Don’t get me wrong. I agree it’s important to take precautions and I never, EVER, leave the bathroom without at least running some water over my hands (to quote Boston Legal’s Allen Shore, “I keep a very clean penis.”) but I do think it’s possible to go overboard and she has certainly done that.

Today, while sitting in the stall in the office mensroom I was reminded of all this when, while taking care of my own business, I listened as no fewer than three “Gentlemen” came into the bathroom, took care of their business, and left again with nary a drop of water spilled in the basin. This is particularly disturbing to me because I work for a health care organization (don’t worry, no medical personnel here). However, it got me thinking, if germs were so rampant, there’d be no hope for us in my office because clearly there are germs being spread like crazy.

I thought about this… I thought about it a lot… I thought about it while I was washing my hands (three times)… And while I was using the automatic feature to dispense a paper towel… And while I used the paper towel to open the door when I left.

Decisions, Decisions (Who Needs Decisions)

Yesterday was the first of two whole (and I use that term loosely) days this week I get to spend with she, who has previously been known as “Eve”, but is now to be known as “Her Royal Awesomeness”.  We will be spending Friday together at The Tech Museum, in San Jose, however due to another familial obligation Her Royal Awesomeness will have to cut the day short at dinner time.

We had big plans, which, to quote Her Royal Awesomeness, “consisted of lots of eating and indecision”  HRA and I are, the two least decisive individuals known to man, which makes us either the perfect pair who enjoy spending hours on end together, or two people who waste an inordinate amount of time trying to figure the other one out… I prefer the first answer.

It’s been raining – I was going to say, “raining up a storm” but I guess that’s a bit redundant – here in Northern California and my 40+ mile drive from my house in Oakland to Her Royal Awesomeness’s Grandparents house in San Jose, took a little longer than usual due to the worsened conditions.

I arrived in one piece and we headed out for our strategically planned day.  I asked her, “So!  What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.  What do you want to do?”

See?  Now that’s what I call Strategery!  We have not an original bone between us and we did the same thing we almost always do:  lunch at The Cheesecake Factory, shopping at Target, wandering aimlessly around the mall, and a movie (He’s Just Not that Into You.)  Mostly it’s just about spending time together and getting to talk.  Something that doesn’t happen nearly enough for my taste.

By the time I was driving home, at 10:00 at night, the rain was coming down in buckets.  I drove home, wipers at full blast, eye’s wide open and knuckles white with tension.  Highway 880 isn’t the best lit (or striped) highway in the bay area and with the rain and the dark the drive was pretty tense.  I pulled into my garage and pried my fingers loose from the  steering wheel.

But you know what?  I’d do it all over again without a moments hesitation.  That’s how important this friend is to me.

So what about you?  What torment have you put yourself through for the sake of a friend?  Would you do it again?

Such A Twit

twitterI’ve recently fallen pray to a new addiction.  It’s called Twitter and it’s more fun than one person is entitled to have.

I “follow” 52 people, most of whom are famous celebrities.  I have 13 followers following me.  Many of whom, again, are famous celebrities.  I interact with these people every day.  I read their messages, I laugh at their jokes, I click on their links.  We have a good old time.  ‘Course none of them are talking directly to me, and with one notable exception, I’ve never received a reply to anything I’ve directed at anyone specific.  Yes, that’s right!  @therealnph (to use proper Twitter lingo) has tweeted at me… ‘Course the jury is still out on whether he’s really the real NPH, (That’s Neil Patrick Harris, for those not in the know) but I guess I can now say “I’m friends with ‘therealnph’.”

I’ve really enjoyed being on Twitter.  It’s open on my computer all the time, whether I’m at home or at work.  I’ve got two separate apps on my iPhone for accessing the Twitter platform.  I’m always on Twitter and it’s great fun.  However, I can’t help wonder what Twitter feels like to someone who is like I was most of my life; easily discouraged, insecure, feeling unloved and unwanted.

You see, being on Twitter tests my ability to handle rejection and judge my own self worth.  Having been clinically depressed most of my life, having based a lot of my self worth on whether or not other people wanted me around (or how I perceived whether they wanted me around), I could understand how someone who experiences these things would quickly be discouraged, possibly even hurt, by being a Twit.  It would be easy to develop a false sense of popularity, or cool…ness.  I don’t have five real friends so 52 twitter friends seems pretty impressive, ‘course most of them don’t know I’m following them. (Doesn’t that make me more like a Twitter stalker?) I’m just one of a legion.  And those that follow me, probably follow everyone who follows them.  Let’s see…

hal-sparks-autographHal Sparks is being followed by 656 people and  following 327 people.  I’m one of those 327.  OK.  I guess I’m special.

hayden-panettiereHayden Panettiere is being followed by 341 people and is following 81.  Not only am I one of them but she added me as someone she’s following within minutes of me adding her as someone I’d follow.  I guess that’s kinda special!

gavinnewsomNow, Gavin Newsom is being followed by 1351 people and is following 1262 people.  I’m one of those people, but that’s 93% of the people following him.  More importantly, Gavin Newsom is the Mayor of San Francisco and running for Governor of California.  I’m sure his following me is politically motivated…  More importantly, I’m certain Gavin Newsom himself rarely, if ever, sees his own Twitter timeline and the person/people really seeing my tweets are interns working on his campaign.  Me?  Not so special.

livestrong3I follow the LIVESTRONG foundation.  Livestrong has 5905 people following them and they’re following 6182 people.  This would imply that they’re following 100% of the people following them and then some.  Once again, me not special.

scharzenegger_narrowweb__300x3790Arnold Schwarzenegger is being followed by 16,760 people and is following 16,487 people.  I’m one of those people, but that’s 98% of his followers.  Among the masses, am I.  (Who let Yoda in here?)  Arnold is our current Governor so obviously his Twitter activity is politically motivated.

maria-shriverMaria Shriver (mostly just ’cause I can) is being followed by 6708 people and is following 5515.  Well, that’s only 82% and she started following me pretty much immediately too.  I guess that would be kinda special but she’s the Governor’s wife.  She has her own political function.  Again, pretty sure it’s an intern of some sort running her show.  Besides which, nothing has been posted in her name since I signed up.

barack-obama-for-presidentOh, and then, of course, there’s Barack Obama.  Followed by 298,345 people and following 287,407.  That’s 96%.  I’m one of them, added on the same day.  I’d feel special but I’ve never been more sure of anything than I am that The President of the United States is not running his own Twitter account.

I seem to have gotten a little lost in my point making.  Oh yes.

While I could be wrong and one or two of the people I listed up there might have found something interesting in the very slight bit of information they might find about me, I doubt it very much and can only assume that adding me as someone they follow was somehow a political/career move on their parts.  If what they thought of me mattered, or if I was counting on Twitter Popularity to make me feel good about myself that would probably hurt me.  If I had some real hope of becoming friends with famous people because I Tweet (and if you’re reading this, I do want to be your friend.  Let’s do lunch!), I’d certainly be setting myself up for a fall.  But I don’t expect that’s going to happen. I take Twitter for what it is and I do not expect anything more than what I’m getting.

Clinical Depression is not something that just goes away.  For me, it’s under control now.  I’ve learned a lot about myself and about life and I have, at least some, of the tools necessary to deal with it.  So while I admit that I get pangs of unwarranted negative feelings about what happens on Twitter, I am quick to remember that this is not where my value lies and not what my self worth is based on.  It’s just a fun thing to do!

Oh!  And Hal, Hayden, Mayor Newsom, LIVESTRONG dudes, Governor Schwarzenegger, Maria or President Obama (or any of your Interns), if you’re reading this, thanks for following me on Twitter and for stopping by my blog!  You’re my favorite Comedian, Actress, Mayor, Charitable Organization, Governor, State First Lady, or President (or any of their Interns) reading this at this moment!

Lunch Chat Highlights

Unsvelt Girl who Runs and I went to lunch today at the local burger joint.  This is entertaining in itself as UGwR recently decided to become a vegan/vegetarian.  She said she read something that made her never want to eat an animal product again.  I told her she could feel free never to share it with me.  I like my animal products just fine, thank you,  and I don’t need unpleasant imagery while I’m eating just about every meal I ever eat!

We talked about the Grammy’s.  I know.  I’m three days behind the rest of the world.  I don’t care.  I hate commercials and this is how I watch TV.

Jennifer Hudson

APTOPIX Grammy Awards ShowWhat was she thinking with this dress?  It looks like she’s got a dinner napkin stapled to the front of her.  I mean, really!  If it had been tailored in some way, maybe.  If it had more of a shape to it and somehow wrapped around her waste, it might have worked.  But it didn’t!  It’s squared off at the bottom.  Maybe my mind filled in the blanks but I could swear I saw the glint of light reflecting off of metal like I could see the safety pins that could have been used to attach the dinner napkin to the dress.

Here’s what I think happened.  Ms. Hudson and her management team, including her stylist, went for a nosh before the show.  As so frequently happens to women with largeish sweater puppets, she dropped something on her chest and stained her beautiful designer dress.

“Oh my God!  What am I gonna do?” she asked in a panic.

“Don’t worry, hun,” says her stylist, “we can deal with this!”  And with that he whipped out his trusty murse (Man Purse), pulled a stapler and can of hairspray out, grabbed an unused linen napkin from the next table over and went to town.  A little hair spray to give the top some shape and staples to hold it in place and she was good to go.

Unsvelt Girl who Runs said there was another person with a similar look.  I don’t remember it.  She says it was the same color as the rest of the dress, so maybe it worked.

On the other hand Jennifer Hudson looked fantastic while performing You Pulled Me Through and she almost brought me to tears (thank God for my frozen heart) as she struggled to get through this emotional song.  It was obvious she must’ve been thinking of her mother who was recently murdered and her eyes were glistening with tears by the end of the song.  It was a truly touching moment and I really felt for her.

Coldplay

chris_martin61“That guy is a freak!”  said Unsvelt Girl, speaking of Chris Martin.  “What was with those clothes they were wearing!?”

“They were ugly, that’s for sure!  Did you see them apologize to Paul McCartney for stealing the ‘Sargent Pepper’s’ look?”  I don’t think she understood that reference.  “And his pants were too short, but that’s a style.”

“Oh good!  Then I don’t have to buy new pants for my son,” she said.

“Um, yeah.  Your son is 13 years old and not a rock star.  You have to buy him new pants.”

“Damn!”

I think Coldplay faked their entire performance of Viva La Vida.  First of all, there were four musicians on stage, including Chris Martin.  Chris Martin wasn’t playing any instruments, one of the guys was playing only a guitar, one was playing a guitar and a keyboard and the fourth guy was playing kettle drums and a bell.  We apparently weren’t supposed to notice the plethora of stringed instruments, not of the guitar variety that are part of that song, but weren’t represented by instruments on the stage.  I could accept that some of it was coming form the keyboard that was being played, but then the guy walked away from the keyboards and the strings were still playing.

Toward the end of the song there’s some humming, or ooo-ing, or whatever-ing.  On the stage the four boys joined around one microphone to sing them.  Chris Martin had his hand mic by his side and was late getting to the other boys but the sound was full.  It was also full when he turned away before they were finished.  And finally when he said, “Thank you” at the end of the song, he wasn’t at the microphone and hadn’t picked his hand mic back up.  Where did the sound come from?

Late last year, Coldplay performed this song on Saturday Night Live.  I don’t remember whether there were other musicians on the stage then, but what I do remember is that Chris Martin acted in very much the same way, including ending the song on his knees and lying back on the floor.  “I guess they don’t think out side of the box much,” said Unsvelt Girl who Runs.

mia-grammyM.I.A.

O.M.G.

‘Nuff said.

Actually, I just read that she start feeling contractions just as the show started.  I’m not a fan of rap, and didn’t think much of that performance (The Rap Pack) but that girl was shakin’ her groove thang, (Yes, I am very white) and this revelation makes that movement that much more incredible!

And speaking of rap stars…

American Boy

Iamerican-boy happen to like this song.  It’s a catchy tune.  I’ve got it on my iPhone.  I’ve got it… ON MY iPHONE!

“Oh my gosh!” I whispered conspiratorially, crouching low to the table.  “I totally didn’t realize Estelle is black.”

“Really!” Unsvelt Girl said sarcastically as she picked up her iPhone and pulled up the song to show me the album cover… Same one I’ve got on my iPhone.  “Really!  You didn’t realize she was black?”

“I guess I never paid that much attention to the album cover.”

kanye-estelle1It’s a fun song and I enjoy the version with Kanye West, but boy does that man need to cut his hair and HOT DAMN!, how did I not make note of this dress last night?  She looks like a cone coffee filter.  And she was sitting down at the beginning of that performance.  How is this possible?  I feel sorry for whoever had the misfortune of sitting next to her

“I had to turn on the captioning while they were doing this song.  There’s a line in the song that I just haven’t been able to figure out,” I told Unsvelt Girl.

“Really?  What is it?”

“I have tried and tried to figure out what that line is and the only thing I’ve been able to come up with is, ‘I’d really like to cook naked with you.  Will you be my American Boy?’.  But that doesn’t make any sense.  Well, maybe it does.  Hmm…  ‘I’d really like to cook naked with you.’  Could be fun I guess.

“Every time the song comes on I listen real close to try and figure it out. I’m like, ‘She’s not saying “cook naked” is she?  She wouldn’t be saying “cook naked” right?  I mean what kinda sense does that make?’

“Anyway, the line is ‘Come pick it’… Wait.  That doesn’t make much sense either.  Well, that’s what the person typing the captioning heard anyway!”

(A quick Google search has revealed that the line is actually “come kick it”, which, all things considered, makes far more sense.)

The King of Wishful Thinking

go-west“You know,” I told her, “it’s really funny the things we think we hear in songs sometimes.  Back in 1990 there was a song by an obscure group called ‘Go West’.  They had one popular song called The King of Wishful Thinking.”

“Never heard of it,” she was quick to reply.  (Turned out she had.)

“Well the song says, ‘I’ll get over you, I know I will.  I’ll pretend my ships not sinking…’  But Green M&M told me that for the longest time when this song was out she heard the line differently.  She said she couldn’t believe it could be what she heard when they’d play it on the radio but she just couldn’t figure out what else the lyrics could be.

“Green M&M said she thought the lyrics were ‘I’ll get over you, I know I will.  I’ll pretend my shit’s not stinking…”

Patience, Grasshopper

I guess when I was a kid, I wasn’t  very patient.  Scornful Mother used to tell me on a regular basis to have patience.

“Honey, you just have to have patience.”  She’d tell me.

“I have patience!” I’d reply exasperated.  “I’m a Pediatrician.  I have little patients.”

I’m sure it’ll come as a huge surprise to find out that Scornful Mother, didn’t find this particularly amusing.

Unfortunately, I’m really not much better now than I was back then.  I’ve learned that throwing a tantrum or heaving an exasperated sigh, usually won’t make things happen any faster.  And I’ve learned that, sometimes, things that are not within my control?  I just have to wait, no matter how much it sucks.  When I keep my wits about me and remind myself of this fact I usually do OK, but it’s easy to get really uptight about it and throw a tantrum (even if it’s only in my head.)

bbbsI’m in one of those situations right now.  A little over a year ago, I applied to the Big Brothers and Big Sisters program.  At the time they were not able to accept me into the program because I have a DUI on my record that I got in January, 2004.  BBBS requires that you not have had a DUI within five years, and that you only have gotten one ever.  I reapplied late last year, knowing that it would take time to get the process done and that by the time it was all settled I’d probably have hit that 5 year anniversary.

It’s been a bit of a long haul.  The person with whom I’m dealing laid my application aside and forgot about it.  I waited nearly two months before I finally e-mailed her to find out where things stand and that’s when she realized what had happened and set me up with an interview.  I understand how something like that can happen, they’re a non-profit organization and they’re understaffed, I’m not really angry about it, it just adds to the level of stress I feel about it.

I had the interview and it went fairly well.  The coordinator told me then that it would take some time to find a suitable match for me.  As liberal and progressive as the bay area seems to be, she told me that a lot of parents and guardians do express a desire for their child not to be paired with a homosexual.  This is disappointing certainly, but not such a huge surprise, I guess.  She told me at the end of the interview that she would send out my reference checks the following week (It was a Thursday night) and then it would just be a matter of how quickly they came back.  She didn’t send the reference checks out for three weeks.  Again, they’re understaffed so I can understand how this can happen.

A couple months passed after she sent the reference checks out and I hadn’t heard anything, so finally, I checked in again with her, and it was at that point that I was informed that I had, indeed, been accepted as a Big Brother.  She informed me that there is an orientation/training session “late in February” and that she’d get back to me with more information.  I’m still waiting to hear about the training and I already know I’m going to have to follow up with her to get the information.

I’ve passed the five year “anniversary” of my DUI.  I’ve been accepted into the program and now I’m just waiting to be matched to a “little”  I do understand that these things take time and I’m not angry or upset about it, it’s just the waiting…

I hate waiting!  And I’m anxious about this.  I know it’s a good thing for me to do and I hold a lot of hope that I’ll be matched with someone with whom I can really connect and be a help.  I’m sure that once we’re settled into the relationship it’ll be great…  I’m just dreading the first meeting and I want to get it over with!

I hate waiting, but I’ll just have to have patience.

I have patience.  Wait– Let me say that again.  I have patience.  Give me a minute.  I’ll convince myself in a sec… I have patience!

Oh, LORD, give me patience!!!  And if you could hurry?  That’d be great!