I've been thinking a lot lately about all the moms out there who aren't yet moms, but who are desperate to be. They are moms in their minds, but not in the official sense. These women have been suffering through fertility treatments, riding emotional roller coasters, and dreaming of smelling that sweet baby breath only a new mom knows.
Yesterday we had some friends over, including our neighbors who had a baby girl a month ago. While everyone ate dinner outside, I held Baby Ainsley so her tired mommy could relax and take her time with her meal. I was alone in the house and cuddled her closely. She curled into me and I suddenly remembered holding my own girls as babies and how that spot just seemed made for them. Ainsley sighed a sweet baby sigh and nestled into my neck. I felt tears prick my eyes because as much as I would love to have another child, deep down I doubt I could handle it; and The Father Load says definitively whenever anyone asks us, "We're done."
It hurts my heart that some people are unable to have children. Either fertility treatments haven't worked or they've run out of money to continue them. Either adoption is taking a long time or it's impossible. Either they've suffered through miscarriages or had to consider surrogacy. There are so many reasons. And unless you've been there yourself, you don't think twice before asking someone questions like:
"So, when are you having kids?" or,
"When are you having another one?"
I recently filled out an application to be an egg donor. To be able to help someone have a baby really appeals to me. Sure, it might be hard knowing that somewhere out there someone with my genes/traits could come into existence and become part of a family I'd never meet; but the possibility of giving that gift, the gift of life, far outweighed any of my fears. To think about giving something so seemingly small that would mean so incredibly much literally kicked my ovaries into overdrive.
I was rejected, of course. At the age of 33, my eggs are "too old." Nevermind that because I myself required ART (Assisted Reproductive Technology) to conceive, I'm not the ideal donor. But let it be said there was nothing wrong with my eggs---my body just won't release them on its own. So someone could just go in there and get them. Easy peasy, right? Apparently not.
As I held Ainsley yesterday, a lone tear slipped down my cheek and I brushed it away quickly. To know that I cannot give this gift pains me. My husband was distraught when I confessed it to him because I hadn't consulted him beforehand. It was a moot point because I'd been rejected, but it's also my body. Admittedly, Ainsley reminds me that I will never again hold my own baby. My twins are 4 1/2 and their "babyhood" was marred by my exhaustion, stress, and always the sound of someone crying. Juggling two at once made me feel as if there wasn't enough of me to go around and neither daughter got enough snuggling or physical closeness with me/us. I relished my time with Ainsley and relinquished her only because I had to take my dog out to poop.
Motherhood, raising children----is a hard job. But becoming a mother, the art of conception, is an entirely different matter and can often be far more difficult than most people realize.
I am a mother. For this I am eternally grateful. I don't ever take it for granted.
And for all of you who are still trying to become mothers, or who feel like giving up---I'm so sorry I can't help you.
But I can be your friend. I will listen. And I will love you and give you big hugs, even if they are virtual or via telephone.
Have you ever considered giving a gift like this?
**Please don't forget to vote for me for Top Mommy Blogger of the Year! There's a button at the top of my blog that will take you there, or you can go here and vote for The Mother Load! You may vote once daily between now and 6/6/10. Thank you!**
Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
WHAT IS MEMORIAL DAY?
So as you know I am in Miami enjoying all the beautiful men, women, and more men at Sizzle 2010 and I noticed that a lot of people are here celebrating PRIDE; however don't know what Memorial Day is... Well today's dish is really quick and straight to the point. What is Memorial Day?
Memorial Day is a United States federal holiday observed on the last Monday of May (May 31 in 2010). Formerly known as Decoration Day, it commemorates U.S. men and women who died while in the military service. First enacted to honor Union soldiers of the American Civil War (it is celebrated near the day of reunification after the Civil War), it was expanded after World War I.
Thank God for another year!
Have a great Memorial Day!
Friday, May 28, 2010
Tickled Pink Today! And More Shameless Self Promotion.
(Full details are at the bottom of the post, but will you please click over ----->
there where it says "Vote For Me?" It will take you to Project Mommyhood's
place where you can vote for me for Mommy Blogger of the Year! You can vote
once daily until 6/6/10! Thank you so much!!!)
I am also tickled pink about being nominated for Mommy Blogger of the Year by Lesley over at Project Mommywood. Pretty please with PINK on top go vote for me! You don't have to be a blogger, you don't have to fork over your life savings, and you don't even have to be a follower...just please go over to her place and cast your vote. You may do so once daily between now and June 5th! There's a button on the top right side of my blog that says "Vote for Me." Click it and it will take you to Lesley's blog. Look on the top right side of her page and you'll see a list of a few blog titles. Click for The Mother Load!
Last but certainly not least, I am tickled pink about my new compost tumbler that is officially up and running. I bought it at Costco, assembled it myselftook me two days and gave me lots of blisters, tools are not my friends and am just sad I didn't do it sooner:
I am also tickled pink about my day lillies that are blooming, along with our rose bushes! Yay!
there where it says "Vote For Me?" It will take you to Project Mommyhood's
place where you can vote for me for Mommy Blogger of the Year! You can vote
once daily until 6/6/10! Thank you so much!!!)
Today I am Tickled Pink even though hostess Holly over at 504 Main is probably buried under "dust, bondo, dry wall, faucets, granite, tile, caulk, and wires." Holly is brave and creative, and she's all about DIY projects. She is so courageous, in fact, that she's currently tackling her own kitchen and master bathroom! She's smart, crafty, and savvy, and was one of my first followers. Go tell her hello and leave her some love.
Anypink, I'm here to tell you about all the things that have made me super happy lately.
I am tickled pink to have daughters who randomly decide to play dress up in Daddy's dirty shirts from the floor of our closet coupled with my shoes:
(Abby is on the left & Izzy's on the right)
I was tickled pink that I got to meet Polly, The 5th Sister. She was in town visiting her family and we were able to coordinate an afternoon to hang out. Polly is a wonderful poet and writer (check out her award-winning haikus!), and she was so friendly and forgiving despite the fact that I almost drove us to Chicago.
(I'm the Amazon on the left and tiny Polly is on the right!)
Next, I was tickled pink to get to meet Laura, The Purse Blogger, for lunch (thankfully she is the same height as moi). Be sure to check out the darling purses she makes here. She is moving to Arizona soon, so we had to take advantage of the fact that we both live in The Land of Oz for now. We had a delicious lunch at Ingredient in Lawrence (halfway between our respective homes), where a handsome gracious employee agreed to take our photo:
I am also tickled pink about the darling corsage t-shirts we're sporting in this pic. No, we aren't twins, we just both fell in love with these tops made by Heather over at Gerber Days and we wanted to pimp her shiz. Don't you want one now? You need to go visit Heather and order one!
Last but certainly not least, I am tickled pink about my new compost tumbler that is officially up and running. I bought it at Costco, assembled it myself
I am also tickled pink about my day lillies that are blooming, along with our rose bushes! Yay!
What are you tickled pink about? Write a post and link up with Holly today!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
It Is What It Is Pt. 6 by Karen Minors
Malachi stood at six feet four inches tall, and weighed about two hundred and thirty pounds. I was good at gauging a person’s body frame because I spent a lot of time at the gym and knew how to size up a body. I could tell that he worked out regularly, because he was cut up. Body chiseled and very defined. He had creamy, French vanilla skin, and I thought that man can be the cream in my coffee! His eyes were blue-grey and his hair brownish-blonde and wavy. He had just enough facial hair that you could see his five o’clock shadow, and he had a full, thick moustache. I had to turn away or he would catch me staring. Men always gawked at women, I thought, so it’s all good for me to do the same!
I have never seen this man at the Arena before, and I come here all the time. I swim three days a week, and run four to five times a week. I was determined to break the generational curse of obesity and hypertension which ran rampant in my family. Thus, I committed myself to a healthy lifestyle, which included eating right and daily exercise. I always remained focused on my workout program at the Arena, but this man took my mind away for a few moments. Now all I had to do was get up the nerve to speak.
Jennifer Aniston's layered hairstyle is still a hit!
Jennifer Aniston's layered hairstyle was an icon when she was acting in comedy show Friends.
Now after 15 years, it is still a hit among British women. Second most popular hairstyle is Meg Ryan's cropped haircut.
The survey was done by beauty products company Goody. Spokeswoman Rose-Marie Jarvis says, "It's no secret that many women take inspiration from celebrities when it comes to their appearance."
Source
My Name is Larry, and When I Was 42, I Came Out of the Closet
**If you missed the previous posts in this series by me, my mom, and my brothers, please go here, here, here, and here to catch up. Below is my dad's version. Dad is an attorney specializing in maritime and personal injury and recently moved to Mississippi from New Orleans. He and his partner, Kory, have been together for many years and had a civil ceremony in Stowe, Vermont in 2001.**
The day my family has already written about was easily the worst day of my life, and the second worst was about two weeks earlier when I had to tell my sweet wife of 20 years, Julie, the same thing. As difficult and painful as that was, telling our children was magnitudes worse. Imagine knowingly and intentionally plunging a knife into your child, not impulsively or carelessly, but because you felt you had no choice. That's what it was like for me. I was going to hurt and scar forever the four people I loved most in my life because I'd been a deceitful fraud, but the hard truth finally had to come out.
I'd known I was different from childhood. At puberty things got worse and I deceived myself about my true nature until I was 19, when I finally realized I was attracted to men, although I was entirely inexperienced. By that time I'd had several girlfriends and plenty of good, old-fashioned heterosexual sex. I believed that although I was physically attracted to both sexes, I could not possibly feel anything romantic toward a member of my own sex as I had with women, including Julie, whom I was to marry at age 22 in 1971. I took my vows intending to keep them and believing I could.
If this sounds naive and stupid today, remember what a different world it was in 1971. For me, gay people were more of a despised urban legend than a reality. In a letter to Harper's Magazine in 1970, Joseph Epstein wrote:
Private acceptance of homosexuality, in my experience, is not to be found, even among the most liberal-minded, sophisticated and liberated people. Homosexuality may be the one subject left in America about which there is no official hypocrisy...Cursed without clear cause, afflicted without apparent cure, they are an affront to our rationality, living evidence of our despair of ever finding a sensible, explainable design to the world.
Clearly I had a lot of incentive to believe anything but the truth.
I was also reasonably bright and ambitious. I didn't have a lot growing up and had visions of luxury cars, big houses and swimming pools propelling me to the American dream of a successful career and a picture perfect family. All I had to do was round off my corners so I could fit into one of the world's round holes just like all the other round pegs. I worked really hard at that, believing I was doing the right and honorable thing for nearly 20 more years. I cannot tell you in a few words why it quit working; only that it did. Suffice it to say I was faithful to Julie until just before I came out. Being a self deceiving fraud was one thing; living an intentional double life was quite another and my nature did not permit it. I reached a breaking point and felt I was coming completely apart. I just could not keep going, not another day and not another minute. I was willing to risk Julie, Erin, Mark, and Kevin, my entire family, my job and my career for my freedom...for one breath of the air of my truth. It was a wholly selfish and ruthless act, but an act of pure survival.
Those two horrible days, and indeed the weeks before and after, were like a slow motion nightmare that never seemed to end. I knew exactly what I was doing and the pain it has caused is something I live with every day. None of my four so loved ones deserved any of this and all would have been justified in never speaking to me again. I asked them to understand and with their love and commitment we have remained a family, if one of a different sort. My husband, Kory, whom I've been with for 18 years, is also part of our family now. I suppose they are all stuck with me in spite of what I did to them. I like to think they have forgiven me, but I know they can never forget. We are family and I love them so. Their love for me brings me to tears, for I know what I did to them.
The day my family has already written about was easily the worst day of my life, and the second worst was about two weeks earlier when I had to tell my sweet wife of 20 years, Julie, the same thing. As difficult and painful as that was, telling our children was magnitudes worse. Imagine knowingly and intentionally plunging a knife into your child, not impulsively or carelessly, but because you felt you had no choice. That's what it was like for me. I was going to hurt and scar forever the four people I loved most in my life because I'd been a deceitful fraud, but the hard truth finally had to come out.
I'd known I was different from childhood. At puberty things got worse and I deceived myself about my true nature until I was 19, when I finally realized I was attracted to men, although I was entirely inexperienced. By that time I'd had several girlfriends and plenty of good, old-fashioned heterosexual sex. I believed that although I was physically attracted to both sexes, I could not possibly feel anything romantic toward a member of my own sex as I had with women, including Julie, whom I was to marry at age 22 in 1971. I took my vows intending to keep them and believing I could.
If this sounds naive and stupid today, remember what a different world it was in 1971. For me, gay people were more of a despised urban legend than a reality. In a letter to Harper's Magazine in 1970, Joseph Epstein wrote:
Private acceptance of homosexuality, in my experience, is not to be found, even among the most liberal-minded, sophisticated and liberated people. Homosexuality may be the one subject left in America about which there is no official hypocrisy...Cursed without clear cause, afflicted without apparent cure, they are an affront to our rationality, living evidence of our despair of ever finding a sensible, explainable design to the world.
Clearly I had a lot of incentive to believe anything but the truth.
I was also reasonably bright and ambitious. I didn't have a lot growing up and had visions of luxury cars, big houses and swimming pools propelling me to the American dream of a successful career and a picture perfect family. All I had to do was round off my corners so I could fit into one of the world's round holes just like all the other round pegs. I worked really hard at that, believing I was doing the right and honorable thing for nearly 20 more years. I cannot tell you in a few words why it quit working; only that it did. Suffice it to say I was faithful to Julie until just before I came out. Being a self deceiving fraud was one thing; living an intentional double life was quite another and my nature did not permit it. I reached a breaking point and felt I was coming completely apart. I just could not keep going, not another day and not another minute. I was willing to risk Julie, Erin, Mark, and Kevin, my entire family, my job and my career for my freedom...for one breath of the air of my truth. It was a wholly selfish and ruthless act, but an act of pure survival.
Those two horrible days, and indeed the weeks before and after, were like a slow motion nightmare that never seemed to end. I knew exactly what I was doing and the pain it has caused is something I live with every day. None of my four so loved ones deserved any of this and all would have been justified in never speaking to me again. I asked them to understand and with their love and commitment we have remained a family, if one of a different sort. My husband, Kory, whom I've been with for 18 years, is also part of our family now. I suppose they are all stuck with me in spite of what I did to them. I like to think they have forgiven me, but I know they can never forget. We are family and I love them so. Their love for me brings me to tears, for I know what I did to them.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
I've Been Nominated for Mommy Blogger of the Year by Project Mommyhood!
I'm a pretty humble, modest person.
But today, I'm bursting with excitement.
And I need to ask for your help----lots of it.
You don't need to be a blogger or my follower to help. I'm not asking for you to sign your life away, or for you to give me money. Nope. All's you're gonna have to do is click. And vote for me!
Lesley over at Project Mommyhood notified me that I'm one of the top five finalists for her annual Mommy Blogger of the Year. I want to thank everyone who nominated me, and I'm going to be asking for your help when voting begins on FRIDAY, MAY 28. Everyone can vote once per day. Voting ends on JUNE 5. Please go visit Lesley and check out details. I am still learning myself, but wanted to give you a heads up. I am so excited and I'm sure I won't win, but it's just an honor to be considered. Thank you all so much!
I want your votes to be genuine, however. Don't just vote to vote; vote because you really think I'm good. Because you enjoy what I have to say. I want this to mean something, as corny as it sounds. Please stay tuned for further details. I'll either have a button or a link for you to click on, and you can do it once per day. Pass the word along and I will keep you posted.
Thank you in advance!
But today, I'm bursting with excitement.
And I need to ask for your help----lots of it.
You don't need to be a blogger or my follower to help. I'm not asking for you to sign your life away, or for you to give me money. Nope. All's you're gonna have to do is click. And vote for me!
Lesley over at Project Mommyhood notified me that I'm one of the top five finalists for her annual Mommy Blogger of the Year. I want to thank everyone who nominated me, and I'm going to be asking for your help when voting begins on FRIDAY, MAY 28. Everyone can vote once per day. Voting ends on JUNE 5. Please go visit Lesley and check out details. I am still learning myself, but wanted to give you a heads up. I am so excited and I'm sure I won't win, but it's just an honor to be considered. Thank you all so much!
I want your votes to be genuine, however. Don't just vote to vote; vote because you really think I'm good. Because you enjoy what I have to say. I want this to mean something, as corny as it sounds. Please stay tuned for further details. I'll either have a button or a link for you to click on, and you can do it once per day. Pass the word along and I will keep you posted.
Thank you in advance!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
My name is Julie, and When I was 41, My Husband Told Me He Was Gay
**If you missed previous installments in this series, go here, here, and here. My mom, Julie, is currently a clinical social worker in New Orleans. She has not remarried.**
I had an old girlfriend from Oklahoma visiting for the week. One day while she was with us, Larry (Erin's dad!) insisted we three visit an up-and-coming local artist’s studio (Michalopolous). He suggested I select an original from the works in the studio, and said it was for our 20th wedding anniversary! I joyously chose what I thought would be a daring, eventually valuable (a semi-nude portrait, when this artist specialized in upward perspective paintings of New Orleans architecture: homes, buildings, etc.) painting. This painting would come to serve as a striking reminder for the next decades of an extremely excruciating, sharp detour in the path of our lives.
I took my friend to the airport early that Sunday morning, bid her farewell, and returned home to find my husband fully showered, shaved, dressed, pale, nervous, and with some papers in hand. He asked me to come and sit in the den, as the kids were still asleep. I followed him with some trepidation into the bleak, desperate hours to come.
He had been feeling ill the past few weeks with some unexplained ailment. He never liked me to “hover” (his word) around when he was sick, so I hadn’t pushed the issue. My fear was that he was about to announce our entry into a world of medical confusion, terror and treatment. I instantly assumed that he was about to tell me he was dying.
The only two parts of the next hour that I recall were his first words, well-rehearsed:
“Into each life, some rain must fall."
Well, my little shower turned into a hurricane of untold proportions. I do remember somewhere in his “opening statement” (he used to rehearse his opening statements for court, and elicit my critiques in just the same way), the word “gay.” Honestly, it didn’t really register. All that registered was the fact that he wasn’t dying. I cried and cried with relief. I think in hindsight he must have thought I was crying in reaction to his announcement.
It wasn’t until hours later that his “announcement” really hit, and HIT it did! I fell apart in our bedroom, alone. We couldn’t tell the kids because he insisted he had to remain in the closet with the exception of our divorce! I also wanted time to digest this stunning news and all of the implications. We told the children I was not feeling well (the absolute truth), and I began the grieving process. Embedded in this decision (not to tell the children at that time) was the fact that Erin had her very first Homecoming Dance coming up in two weeks. We didn’t want that joy, preparation and life-launching experience to be ruined.
We had agreed months before to couple's counseling. We saw the therapist one time together, only to be instructed that we were more in need of individual work than sessions together. So we saw the therapist individually.Turns out Larry told the therapist he was gay during his very first session! NO ONE ever told me! Apparently they were working on his “coming out," and I thought I was working on our marriage!
In the ensuing weeks I found my strength and I absolutely INSISTED he come out to the children as soon as Erin’s date had happened, and the earliest possible time for us all.
I based my argument on the fact that the therapist KNEW, his law partner KNEW (and had encouraged him to remain closeted, for the sake of the law practice), I KNEW, and it was only a matter of time before the children would find out. In that scenario, they were likely to find out from someone other than their parents. I could not tolerate that! If honesty was to be the new policy, than the children, above anyone else, deserved that honesty. That brings us to “the day," shortly after Halloween, 1991, that my children's lives changed forever.
Now you have it (sort of)! You have each of our experiences, in a few paragraphs, with the exception of dad himself. I guess that may be to come.
Kevin is correct: the Best family keeps on! I haven’t the vocabulary to express my feelings about Erin, Mark and Kevin. Their own life paths took an extremely sharp detour on the day they found out, but with that detour, they have each managed to sharpen their life skills and their wits.“Proud” just doesn’t seem to cover it. I watch their lives unfold, and I am in awe.
To all of you following Erin, thank you for your lovely, thoughtful and encouraging responses to her writing. I agree she has a book in her, but she is doing it her way, and in her time!
I had an old girlfriend from Oklahoma visiting for the week. One day while she was with us, Larry (Erin's dad!) insisted we three visit an up-and-coming local artist’s studio (Michalopolous). He suggested I select an original from the works in the studio, and said it was for our 20th wedding anniversary! I joyously chose what I thought would be a daring, eventually valuable (a semi-nude portrait, when this artist specialized in upward perspective paintings of New Orleans architecture: homes, buildings, etc.) painting. This painting would come to serve as a striking reminder for the next decades of an extremely excruciating, sharp detour in the path of our lives.
I took my friend to the airport early that Sunday morning, bid her farewell, and returned home to find my husband fully showered, shaved, dressed, pale, nervous, and with some papers in hand. He asked me to come and sit in the den, as the kids were still asleep. I followed him with some trepidation into the bleak, desperate hours to come.
He had been feeling ill the past few weeks with some unexplained ailment. He never liked me to “hover” (his word) around when he was sick, so I hadn’t pushed the issue. My fear was that he was about to announce our entry into a world of medical confusion, terror and treatment. I instantly assumed that he was about to tell me he was dying.
The only two parts of the next hour that I recall were his first words, well-rehearsed:
“Into each life, some rain must fall."
Well, my little shower turned into a hurricane of untold proportions. I do remember somewhere in his “opening statement” (he used to rehearse his opening statements for court, and elicit my critiques in just the same way), the word “gay.” Honestly, it didn’t really register. All that registered was the fact that he wasn’t dying. I cried and cried with relief. I think in hindsight he must have thought I was crying in reaction to his announcement.
It wasn’t until hours later that his “announcement” really hit, and HIT it did! I fell apart in our bedroom, alone. We couldn’t tell the kids because he insisted he had to remain in the closet with the exception of our divorce! I also wanted time to digest this stunning news and all of the implications. We told the children I was not feeling well (the absolute truth), and I began the grieving process. Embedded in this decision (not to tell the children at that time) was the fact that Erin had her very first Homecoming Dance coming up in two weeks. We didn’t want that joy, preparation and life-launching experience to be ruined.
We had agreed months before to couple's counseling. We saw the therapist one time together, only to be instructed that we were more in need of individual work than sessions together. So we saw the therapist individually.Turns out Larry told the therapist he was gay during his very first session! NO ONE ever told me! Apparently they were working on his “coming out," and I thought I was working on our marriage!
In the ensuing weeks I found my strength and I absolutely INSISTED he come out to the children as soon as Erin’s date had happened, and the earliest possible time for us all.
I based my argument on the fact that the therapist KNEW, his law partner KNEW (and had encouraged him to remain closeted, for the sake of the law practice), I KNEW, and it was only a matter of time before the children would find out. In that scenario, they were likely to find out from someone other than their parents. I could not tolerate that! If honesty was to be the new policy, than the children, above anyone else, deserved that honesty. That brings us to “the day," shortly after Halloween, 1991, that my children's lives changed forever.
Now you have it (sort of)! You have each of our experiences, in a few paragraphs, with the exception of dad himself. I guess that may be to come.
Kevin is correct: the Best family keeps on! I haven’t the vocabulary to express my feelings about Erin, Mark and Kevin. Their own life paths took an extremely sharp detour on the day they found out, but with that detour, they have each managed to sharpen their life skills and their wits.“Proud” just doesn’t seem to cover it. I watch their lives unfold, and I am in awe.
To all of you following Erin, thank you for your lovely, thoughtful and encouraging responses to her writing. I agree she has a book in her, but she is doing it her way, and in her time!
Monday, May 24, 2010
Lil Mogul Out On Vacation
Hey Folks,
This week I am on vacation in Barcelona and will be back next Tuesday.
Ciao,
Lil Mogul
This week I am on vacation in Barcelona and will be back next Tuesday.
Ciao,
Lil Mogul
Jennifer Aniston still positive on marriage
Despite of her divorce with Brad Pitt, she is still positive on marriage and have kids.
She told to UK magazine OK!: "I've had some wonderful experiences and over the years I've learnt so much more about myself.
"I hope I've reached a point where I'm ready to enjoy being with a great man and making a life and having a family together.
"That's always been my dream."
Source
Monkey Minute: *Snort* edition, Daffy / Duckalicious style
In honor of Daffy over at Batcrap Crazy, who lost her beloved Big Sis last week,
we give you today's Monkey Minute!
1 - Do you *snort*?
Um, yes. More often than I care to admit. It runs in the family.
2 - Our friend, has a nickname and it's Daffy. What's your nickname?
The only one I've ever really had is "Ernie." My brother, Mark, dubbed me so when he was young and couldn't pronounce Erin properly. But many hours watching Sesame Street taught him the next best thing. Thankfully I'm not orange with an annoying yellow friend named Bert.
3 - Do you know sign language?
Only if you count giving the bird....
4 - What's a sample convo from your hood?
Izzy: Daddy, what's that you're wearing?
Daddy: It's a sport coat.
Izzy: Do you go sporting in it?
************
(during potentially last group shower, taken recently)
Abby: Daddy, what's that?
Daddy: That's my penis, that is what Daddy uses to go potty.
Abby: Why don't I have a penis?
Daddy: Because you have a vagina. Girls have vaginas.
Abby: But will I grow a penis when I get older?
5- Do you sleep with electronic devices - i.e. laptop, Blackberry, iPhone, etc?
No, although Hubs frequently complains that I am attached to my laptop. I don't have a Blackberry. I only recently upgraded from a flip-top cell phone that couldn't even text efficiently. No iPhone, either. No iPad. And I barely know how to work my iPod. That about covers it. *snort*
Sunday, May 23, 2010
2010 FlavaMen Blatino Awards
So on September 5, 2009 FlavaMen presented the first annual Blatino Awards. The event was very successful and many of the best in the adult entertainment industry came together to receive honors. This year the event is happening again in Atlanta during Labor Day Weekend, as we celebrate Pride and the best adult entertainers in the business. Please go to the nomination site to help the producers of the event select this year's celebrity host and most importantly nominate the individuals for each category. And may the BEST PORN STAR WIN!!! Nominate your favorite choices at http://www.blatinoaward.com/
Get Ready to SIZZLE
Dwight Powell is doing it again! This week he presents once again the hottest circuit party in the country. This year he adds different events and draws a host of sponsors that keeps Sizzle fresh and Sizzle attendees anticipating and returning year after year. This year attendees will party from sun up to sun down beginning Thursday, May 27th until Tuesday, June 1st. Some of the new events added this year include the “Hyatt Live” where bloggers and vloggers Skorpion and Makael of The Skorpion Show, Lonnel of 3LWTV, Newnue of YoBoiNewNue.com, London of ISoLoveLondon, Tron of WhatsTheT.com, and myself Dwight Allen O'Neal will take over the Sizzle village inside the Hyatt for a live broadcast where visitors will interact with all the bloggers on a custom built Sizzle platform. The event is free and will add an extra enhancement to the Sizzle Village where Sizzlers gather to see and be seen while enjoing great music, taking in great food and drinks, and being apart of the coolest and hippest crowd. At SIZZLE LIVE comedians Leslie Jone aka Big Les and the hilarious Luenell will be in the building causing you to die of laughter. The event will be hosted by New York’s own Harmonica Sunbeam.
The Annual White Party which is being held at the host hotel Hyatt on Sunday evening and the infamous Booze Cruise are two popular events that are returning and of course the Booze Cruise is already sold out!
Each year the nightly parties at Sizzle grow larger and larger with it’s maximum club attendance over 6000 at it’s signature Sunday night event at Club Space. This year Sizzle has once again secured some of the top and world renowned nightclubs in Miami including the 42,000 sq. foot Karu n Y Nightclub, a venue that Sizzle has been trying to nab for the past 5 years, Mekka Miami formerly Metropolis (a 5 clubs in 1 venue), and The Ice Palace which will be host to a new event Dwight Powell is incorporating called “JUBILEE”. According to SizzleMiami.com, the event will be dazzled with glitter, glam, and breathtaking entertainment including showgirls donned in elaborate custom made costumes, gorgeous male trapeze acts, and aerial silk performance. Dwight Powell calls it one of Sizzle’s biggest challenges to date production wise. Two of Sizzlers favorites nightspots still remain, the infamous Space nightclub on Sunday night where Sizzlers party until 10 in the morning on the rooftop and Gloria Estefan’s Bongos Nightclub on Monday night with an all male revue.
Another popular event that returns is the Sizzle Luah which is on Saturday at the Hyatt Regency pier which over looks the Miami River. This year, Zerrick from Model City will be hosting the Luah along with authentic Hawaii drummers and fire dancers, a swimwear fashion show starring Sizzle Miami 2010 model Jared and the Men of Sizzle, as well as a hot body contest, great food, drinks, and music along with the liveliest crowd
For more information on Sizzle Miami and the festivities log on to www.sizzlemiami.com and for more details on all of the daytime and nightly events log on to www.sizzleevents.com.
The Annual White Party which is being held at the host hotel Hyatt on Sunday evening and the infamous Booze Cruise are two popular events that are returning and of course the Booze Cruise is already sold out!
Each year the nightly parties at Sizzle grow larger and larger with it’s maximum club attendance over 6000 at it’s signature Sunday night event at Club Space. This year Sizzle has once again secured some of the top and world renowned nightclubs in Miami including the 42,000 sq. foot Karu n Y Nightclub, a venue that Sizzle has been trying to nab for the past 5 years, Mekka Miami formerly Metropolis (a 5 clubs in 1 venue), and The Ice Palace which will be host to a new event Dwight Powell is incorporating called “JUBILEE”. According to SizzleMiami.com, the event will be dazzled with glitter, glam, and breathtaking entertainment including showgirls donned in elaborate custom made costumes, gorgeous male trapeze acts, and aerial silk performance. Dwight Powell calls it one of Sizzle’s biggest challenges to date production wise. Two of Sizzlers favorites nightspots still remain, the infamous Space nightclub on Sunday night where Sizzlers party until 10 in the morning on the rooftop and Gloria Estefan’s Bongos Nightclub on Monday night with an all male revue.
Another popular event that returns is the Sizzle Luah which is on Saturday at the Hyatt Regency pier which over looks the Miami River. This year, Zerrick from Model City will be hosting the Luah along with authentic Hawaii drummers and fire dancers, a swimwear fashion show starring Sizzle Miami 2010 model Jared and the Men of Sizzle, as well as a hot body contest, great food, drinks, and music along with the liveliest crowd
For more information on Sizzle Miami and the festivities log on to www.sizzlemiami.com and for more details on all of the daytime and nightly events log on to www.sizzleevents.com.
american girl by c.r. knight
Christina Aguilera has out done herself in this music video. The video has a glossy live magazine feel to it. I've been listening to this song on repeat all day long and it might have to be my theme song for the week.
Clearly inspired by Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Madonna and yes, even Angela Bassett, Aguilera makes it a point to disrupt your senses with this vocally powerful 'i'm a bad girl now' summer smash. She definitely redefines sexy mama. What do you think of the video?
Good Knight!
Saturday, May 22, 2010
My Name is Kevin, and When I Was Nine, My Dad Came Out of the Closet
**If you missed the first two parts of this fascinating new mini series, please go here and here. Below is my youngest brother Kevin's account of that same day. Kevin is six years younger than I and owns his own business, Dibbz, in New Orleans.**
Unless you grew up idolizing Babe Ruth, eating smores in a tree house, and playing baseball on your own private field, your childhood had nothing on mine. Nothing. I was the oldest member of an adventurous and nearly inseparable group of neighborhood kids. We rode bikes without wearing helmets. We climbed trees as tall as the rooftops of the block’s first few McMansions. There was a ditch full of murky water, populated with exotic turtles, which separated us from the railroad tracks that helped to flatten our boring pennies into Picasso-esque masterpieces. Moms, including my own, dealt with the ensuing piles of muddy shoes and frantic snack breaks we required to maintain the frequency of our high adventures. Dads came home from work around five or six, calling us all back home to ourrespective dinner tables, marking the end of a full day. This was life as I knew it at nine years old, and it was great.
From my perspective, things didn’t change dramatically after the infamous Sunday morning family meeting, which might explain why very few details stick out in my memory about that day. It began when I was briefly pulled away from my friends and a game that might have resembled soccer on a neighbor’s lawn. My dad actually came outside to get my attention, which was rare. He also used the term “family meeting” which was equally unprecedented. Those were for Kevin Arnold’s family in The Wonder Years, not Kevin Best’s on East Livingston Place in the real world. Inside the house, there were tears, but they weren’t mine. I was actually in a rush to get back out there and explain to my neighborhood friends how I had just become one of those kids – the ones with divorced parents. I went to grammar school with many of them and it seemed more normal than having a traditionally intact family. I also remember asking my parents if they would ever get back together. It wasn’t complete unfamiliarity with the idea of homosexuality so much as a miscalculation concerning the significance of one fact versus the other. My nine year-old brain processed the idea of divorce immediately, but it had yet to tackle what it would mean to have a gay father. I had never been exposed to an opinion, positive or negative, concerning the homosexual label so it flew under the radar. When it came right down to it, I never expected either of my parents to stop caring for me or to disappear so that was that. I went back outside to play.
Growing up over the next twenty years was relatively easy and I remained emotionally unscathed. After the divorce, my parents conducted themselves far better around us than many of my friends’ married parents. As cheesy Lifetime movies often remind us, life doesn’t always work out as planned. It certainly didn’t play out the way any of us expected it to before the family meeting, but Mom and Dad managed to hold us together and the Best family continues onward…
Unless you grew up idolizing Babe Ruth, eating smores in a tree house, and playing baseball on your own private field, your childhood had nothing on mine. Nothing. I was the oldest member of an adventurous and nearly inseparable group of neighborhood kids. We rode bikes without wearing helmets. We climbed trees as tall as the rooftops of the block’s first few McMansions. There was a ditch full of murky water, populated with exotic turtles, which separated us from the railroad tracks that helped to flatten our boring pennies into Picasso-esque masterpieces. Moms, including my own, dealt with the ensuing piles of muddy shoes and frantic snack breaks we required to maintain the frequency of our high adventures. Dads came home from work around five or six, calling us all back home to ourrespective dinner tables, marking the end of a full day. This was life as I knew it at nine years old, and it was great.
From my perspective, things didn’t change dramatically after the infamous Sunday morning family meeting, which might explain why very few details stick out in my memory about that day. It began when I was briefly pulled away from my friends and a game that might have resembled soccer on a neighbor’s lawn. My dad actually came outside to get my attention, which was rare. He also used the term “family meeting” which was equally unprecedented. Those were for Kevin Arnold’s family in The Wonder Years, not Kevin Best’s on East Livingston Place in the real world. Inside the house, there were tears, but they weren’t mine. I was actually in a rush to get back out there and explain to my neighborhood friends how I had just become one of those kids – the ones with divorced parents. I went to grammar school with many of them and it seemed more normal than having a traditionally intact family. I also remember asking my parents if they would ever get back together. It wasn’t complete unfamiliarity with the idea of homosexuality so much as a miscalculation concerning the significance of one fact versus the other. My nine year-old brain processed the idea of divorce immediately, but it had yet to tackle what it would mean to have a gay father. I had never been exposed to an opinion, positive or negative, concerning the homosexual label so it flew under the radar. When it came right down to it, I never expected either of my parents to stop caring for me or to disappear so that was that. I went back outside to play.
Growing up over the next twenty years was relatively easy and I remained emotionally unscathed. After the divorce, my parents conducted themselves far better around us than many of my friends’ married parents. As cheesy Lifetime movies often remind us, life doesn’t always work out as planned. It certainly didn’t play out the way any of us expected it to before the family meeting, but Mom and Dad managed to hold us together and the Best family continues onward…
Friday, May 21, 2010
Zolra's Corner: Fried Chicken for Breakfast?
Before I begin, let me just say one thing. This blog post is not about Barack Obama or Al Sharpton. I just found this picture of these two eating fried chicken together, and I had to post this one. Now let's move on.This has got to be crazy. Who in the world eats fried food for breakfast, and right out of the grease? When I saw that, I wanted to vomit.
Right after my neighbors found my dog after he wandered off when my parents took him out, I was completely exhausted. I was working extremely hard on topics to write for the blog last night, it kept me up all night. Then there was knock on my bedroom door, which interrupted my sleep. That put alot of anger inside of me. It's the one thing I absolutely hate. When I am peacefully sleeping, I want no one to interrupt me. If you do, you might get cussed at for the next ten minutes. That's how upset I get when I am interrupted in my sleep.
Since my dog worried me because he wandered off, I was up for the next two hours after my neighbors found him and brought him back home. I was lying on the couch in the living room, watching the E! Network constantly. Suddenly, my stomach was rumbling like boiling water ready to come up my backside. I didn't feel like cooking. So I went to the grocery store two blocks away from the house. I put on some dress clothes and walked to the store.
I entered the store at nine in the morning. I looked around for those fifty cents honey buns. I wasn't going to buy the traditional high school breakfast. Hot chips and Arizona Fruit Punch.
When I saw the Honey Buns, I grabbed one and started taking my money out. I always have my money out before I check out. I know what the price is. So what's the use waiting until it's your turn. You want to get the heck out of that line right? Then make sure your money is out before it's your time. The only time you can do that is when you are going to use your credit card.
Once the person in front of me placed his food on the shelf, I can hear a loud conversation going on behind me. I turned around and saw a cooking lady giving a man this five dollar bag of chicken.
"This is going to be a good breakfast for me," he said.
I knew it was fried chicken because it was the only food fresh out the grease that morning. First of all, who would be cooking fried chicken at nine in the morning? I only eat fried chicken between noon and midnight. I have never seen someone eat chicken for breakfast.
This is just my opinion. Chicken should stay as a lunch or dinner option. I don't want to see myself walking past a group of people in the city, carrying a brown paper bag of chicken with the grease leaking out of the bag. That will be an embarrassing scene.
I put my sixty cents in front of the front desk man, and walked out of that store as fast as I could. I ate half of it on the way, and then I took a nap on the couch. In the beginning, I wanted to microwave some pancakes, but the fried chicken ruined my breakfast that morning.
What has happened to the future of society's eating habits?
Once the person in front of me placed his food on the shelf, I can hear a loud conversation going on behind me. I turned around and saw a cooking lady giving a man this five dollar bag of chicken.
"This is going to be a good breakfast for me," he said.
I knew it was fried chicken because it was the only food fresh out the grease that morning. First of all, who would be cooking fried chicken at nine in the morning? I only eat fried chicken between noon and midnight. I have never seen someone eat chicken for breakfast.
This is just my opinion. Chicken should stay as a lunch or dinner option. I don't want to see myself walking past a group of people in the city, carrying a brown paper bag of chicken with the grease leaking out of the bag. That will be an embarrassing scene.
I put my sixty cents in front of the front desk man, and walked out of that store as fast as I could. I ate half of it on the way, and then I took a nap on the couch. In the beginning, I wanted to microwave some pancakes, but the fried chicken ruined my breakfast that morning.
What has happened to the future of society's eating habits?
For Daffy
Carpe diem.
Seize the day, live in the moment.
Appreciate your friends, your family, your pets.
Every breath you take is a precious gift.
Every moment ahead of you is just waiting to be unwrapped.
Don't waste time with frivolous or petty things.
Tell the people you love how much they mean to you.
Don't wait. Do it now.
Say "I love you" with gusto. Give good hugs. Hold on tight.
I always wanted a sister but I never had one.
My friend Daffy is losing hers. It's not fair.
My heart is breaking although I was never lucky enough to get to meet Big Sis.
I have two younger brothers.
I can't imagine what it would be like to lose one of them.
I don't know what Daffy is going through,
But she is strong---one of the strongest, most incredible people I know.
She may bend, but she is unbreakable.
Daffy, you are not alone.
There are a thousand hearts lifting you up, wrapping you in loving whispers.
We are here to hold you and keep you safe.
We are your friends.
We love you dearly, more than simple written words can express.
I love you.
I am blessed to know you and to be able to call you my friend.
My thoughts and prayers remain with you, Big Sis, and your whole family.
Seize the day, live in the moment.
Appreciate your friends, your family, your pets.
Every breath you take is a precious gift.
Every moment ahead of you is just waiting to be unwrapped.
Don't waste time with frivolous or petty things.
Tell the people you love how much they mean to you.
Don't wait. Do it now.
Say "I love you" with gusto. Give good hugs. Hold on tight.
I always wanted a sister but I never had one.
My friend Daffy is losing hers. It's not fair.
My heart is breaking although I was never lucky enough to get to meet Big Sis.
I have two younger brothers.
I can't imagine what it would be like to lose one of them.
I don't know what Daffy is going through,
But she is strong---one of the strongest, most incredible people I know.
She may bend, but she is unbreakable.
Daffy, you are not alone.
There are a thousand hearts lifting you up, wrapping you in loving whispers.
We are here to hold you and keep you safe.
We are your friends.
We love you dearly, more than simple written words can express.
I love you.
I am blessed to know you and to be able to call you my friend.
My thoughts and prayers remain with you, Big Sis, and your whole family.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
My Name is Mark, and When I was 13, My Dad Came Out of the Closet
**If you missed my version of the day my dad revealed he was gay, click HERE to read it. This is my brother Mark's perspective on that very same day. Mark is two years younger than I and is an attorney in New Orleans.**
On a bright sunny Sunday morning, my father announced that he and my mother would be getting divorced.
On Sundays in our household, one could always count on two things: the mail would not be delivered, and we’d have “Sunday breakfast.” There would always be eggs; mostly sunny-side up, but scrambled was not out of the ordinary. There would always be bacon; mostly of the pig variety until we became more health conscious in the late '80s and switched to turkey bacon. There would always be homemade biscuits with jam/jelly, or my personal favorite, butter and honey. However, it was not unusual for mom to make blueberry muffins, complete with a startling blue color created by adding the blueberry juice into the batter. There would always be seasonal fruit. In the summer we’d have cantaloupe or honeydew melon with the rinds cut off. But most of the time we’d each have a half of a grapefruit sprinkled with sugar and topped with a maraschino cherry. My mom would cut and separate the individual triangles of fruit from the interior skin so that we could easily scoop out a piece at a time with a spoon. We’d always have milk and orange juice, and my dad would have coffee. I always had to remember to drink my glass of milk entirely before I got to the grapefruit. If you eat the grapefruit first, the milk will taste spoiled. Although my mom would occasionally mix it up by making pancakes in the shapes of the first letter of our names, the Sunday breakfast itself was a given. It was something I could count on.
On that strange morning after we’d had Sunday breakfast, my brother and I went upstairs to brush our teeth and recommence the inevitable Nintendo gaming. My sister likely returned to her room and closed the door so she wouldn’t have to listen to my brother and me. However, it’s just as likely that she stayed downstairs to help with the dishes. At the time I thought she would do things like that so whenever my mom would call us out for not pitching-in enough at home, she would always have to add “except for you Erin, you’re always a big help.”
The house had an intercom system so my mom could talk to us in our rooms without leaving the kitchen. My brother and I got the call to come downstairs. I don’t remember who actually asked us to come down, but I imagine it was my father given that my mother could hardly speak a word that morning. My dad had revealed to her that he was gay around two weeks prior to that Sunday morning; a fact I did not learn until much later. How she made that breakfast knowing what was about to happen, I’ll never know.
When he called us down, he said we were going to have a “family meeting.” We never had “family meetings.” Of course, we’d sit together and talk over a meal or something, but we never had to call it anything. When he said “family meeting” I guessed we were all going to be assigned chores to do, like pulling weeds and washing cars. We took our spots on the couches in the den where my dad was already seated looking at a legal pad. I’m fairly sure he was looking at page two when I sat down. He always uses the legal pads for work when he needs to organize his thoughts. He wouldn’t have needed a legal pad to tell me to pull weeds, and he certainly would not have needed two pages. This was so out-of-the-ordinary, I stopped my mind from guessing. My mom’s eyes were red.
My dad cleared his throat with a short gruff bellow. I remember him trying to compose himself and having immense difficulty doing so. I’d like to tell you that I remember the words he spoke next. I wish I could quote him exactly so the words would be famous and familiar in my own mind. You know when you hear someone utter the famous phrase: “a date that will live in infamy,” you already know the date of the event, the identity of the speaker, and what happened there. When it comes to that Sunday morning, I can’t remember the date, the identity of the speaker was shattered, and I don’t remember much about what happened.
I think I came-to when he said, “if you all have any questions, please feel free to ask me…anything you have on your mind…your mother and I are here for you…nothing will ever change the fact that we love you and will always love you. Do you have any questions?” I don’t know if anyone asked anything. I just know I didn’t. “If you guys want to go play or go to your rooms or ride bikes or something, that’s fine.” My sister popped up with tears in her eyes and ran upstairs to her bedroom. I went to my room to lie on my bed. I remember thinking, “I know I’m supposed to be crying right now.” I tried to force it, but with no result.
It’s easy to cry when you understand the full import of a tragedy. I had heard the words, but I had not (or perhaps would not or could not) visualize the end result. I heard him say that he would be moving out, but I didn’t know at the time how weird it would be to visit him at his warehouse district apartment with all the street noise, the different smell, the different furniture and décor. I heard him say that he would continue to attend my basketball games, but I didn’t know at the time how uncomfortable it would feel to have a teammate ask me just before tip-off “is that your dad’s boyfriend?” I heard him say that he and my mother would remain friends, but I didn’t know that resentment between them would still bubble up through the surface many years after that day. I heard him say that he was gay, but I didn’t know he would appear on TV to proclaim it. I heard him say that things might be difficult for a while, but I didn’t know I’d be shoving some derelict kids who cornered and harassed my brother because they “heard your dad is a faggot.” Had I known, I’m certain I’d have cried. A lot.
A long time has passed. I’m no longer a 13-year old adolescent. I’m a 32-year old father and husband. I have known my gay father and lived as a son of divorced parents for far longer than I lived in a “normal” family environment. The experiences that I had in the years following that strange Sunday don’t make me feel like crying today. Looking back at them, all I see is the same overcoming of hardship that we have all had to face in some form or another in our own lives. If you have not yet experienced something that the majority of society would consider difficult, then it is likely that three things are true: (1) you probably haven’t earned much respect, (2) you probably have a lot of self-doubt and (3) you are probably a teenager.
I’ve experienced several additional and entirely different hardships since my dad came out and my parents got divorced. Each of them made me feel sad, stressed and very depressed. And each time I knew that things would gradually get easier. When (not if) things take a tragic turn in the future, things will get easier. That is something I can count on, just like Sunday breakfast.
On a bright sunny Sunday morning, my father announced that he and my mother would be getting divorced.
On Sundays in our household, one could always count on two things: the mail would not be delivered, and we’d have “Sunday breakfast.” There would always be eggs; mostly sunny-side up, but scrambled was not out of the ordinary. There would always be bacon; mostly of the pig variety until we became more health conscious in the late '80s and switched to turkey bacon. There would always be homemade biscuits with jam/jelly, or my personal favorite, butter and honey. However, it was not unusual for mom to make blueberry muffins, complete with a startling blue color created by adding the blueberry juice into the batter. There would always be seasonal fruit. In the summer we’d have cantaloupe or honeydew melon with the rinds cut off. But most of the time we’d each have a half of a grapefruit sprinkled with sugar and topped with a maraschino cherry. My mom would cut and separate the individual triangles of fruit from the interior skin so that we could easily scoop out a piece at a time with a spoon. We’d always have milk and orange juice, and my dad would have coffee. I always had to remember to drink my glass of milk entirely before I got to the grapefruit. If you eat the grapefruit first, the milk will taste spoiled. Although my mom would occasionally mix it up by making pancakes in the shapes of the first letter of our names, the Sunday breakfast itself was a given. It was something I could count on.
On that strange morning after we’d had Sunday breakfast, my brother and I went upstairs to brush our teeth and recommence the inevitable Nintendo gaming. My sister likely returned to her room and closed the door so she wouldn’t have to listen to my brother and me. However, it’s just as likely that she stayed downstairs to help with the dishes. At the time I thought she would do things like that so whenever my mom would call us out for not pitching-in enough at home, she would always have to add “except for you Erin, you’re always a big help.”
The house had an intercom system so my mom could talk to us in our rooms without leaving the kitchen. My brother and I got the call to come downstairs. I don’t remember who actually asked us to come down, but I imagine it was my father given that my mother could hardly speak a word that morning. My dad had revealed to her that he was gay around two weeks prior to that Sunday morning; a fact I did not learn until much later. How she made that breakfast knowing what was about to happen, I’ll never know.
When he called us down, he said we were going to have a “family meeting.” We never had “family meetings.” Of course, we’d sit together and talk over a meal or something, but we never had to call it anything. When he said “family meeting” I guessed we were all going to be assigned chores to do, like pulling weeds and washing cars. We took our spots on the couches in the den where my dad was already seated looking at a legal pad. I’m fairly sure he was looking at page two when I sat down. He always uses the legal pads for work when he needs to organize his thoughts. He wouldn’t have needed a legal pad to tell me to pull weeds, and he certainly would not have needed two pages. This was so out-of-the-ordinary, I stopped my mind from guessing. My mom’s eyes were red.
My dad cleared his throat with a short gruff bellow. I remember him trying to compose himself and having immense difficulty doing so. I’d like to tell you that I remember the words he spoke next. I wish I could quote him exactly so the words would be famous and familiar in my own mind. You know when you hear someone utter the famous phrase: “a date that will live in infamy,” you already know the date of the event, the identity of the speaker, and what happened there. When it comes to that Sunday morning, I can’t remember the date, the identity of the speaker was shattered, and I don’t remember much about what happened.
I think I came-to when he said, “if you all have any questions, please feel free to ask me…anything you have on your mind…your mother and I are here for you…nothing will ever change the fact that we love you and will always love you. Do you have any questions?” I don’t know if anyone asked anything. I just know I didn’t. “If you guys want to go play or go to your rooms or ride bikes or something, that’s fine.” My sister popped up with tears in her eyes and ran upstairs to her bedroom. I went to my room to lie on my bed. I remember thinking, “I know I’m supposed to be crying right now.” I tried to force it, but with no result.
It’s easy to cry when you understand the full import of a tragedy. I had heard the words, but I had not (or perhaps would not or could not) visualize the end result. I heard him say that he would be moving out, but I didn’t know at the time how weird it would be to visit him at his warehouse district apartment with all the street noise, the different smell, the different furniture and décor. I heard him say that he would continue to attend my basketball games, but I didn’t know at the time how uncomfortable it would feel to have a teammate ask me just before tip-off “is that your dad’s boyfriend?” I heard him say that he and my mother would remain friends, but I didn’t know that resentment between them would still bubble up through the surface many years after that day. I heard him say that he was gay, but I didn’t know he would appear on TV to proclaim it. I heard him say that things might be difficult for a while, but I didn’t know I’d be shoving some derelict kids who cornered and harassed my brother because they “heard your dad is a faggot.” Had I known, I’m certain I’d have cried. A lot.
A long time has passed. I’m no longer a 13-year old adolescent. I’m a 32-year old father and husband. I have known my gay father and lived as a son of divorced parents for far longer than I lived in a “normal” family environment. The experiences that I had in the years following that strange Sunday don’t make me feel like crying today. Looking back at them, all I see is the same overcoming of hardship that we have all had to face in some form or another in our own lives. If you have not yet experienced something that the majority of society would consider difficult, then it is likely that three things are true: (1) you probably haven’t earned much respect, (2) you probably have a lot of self-doubt and (3) you are probably a teenager.
I’ve experienced several additional and entirely different hardships since my dad came out and my parents got divorced. Each of them made me feel sad, stressed and very depressed. And each time I knew that things would gradually get easier. When (not if) things take a tragic turn in the future, things will get easier. That is something I can count on, just like Sunday breakfast.
Jennifer Aniston wants a retouched for her new movie
Jennifer Aniston is very concerned on how she looks like on screen. She wants a retouched on the movie, The Switch.
A source told UsMagazine.com, “She wanted them retouched further, but the studio had already spent its post-production budget…the studio discussed making her foot the bill for any enhancements.”
Source
A source told UsMagazine.com, “She wanted them retouched further, but the studio had already spent its post-production budget…the studio discussed making her foot the bill for any enhancements.”
Source
Notes from Nathan: Give Yourself Credit
hat's up Future? It's been a few weeks since I've posted. As much as I love utilizing this interface as a sounding board to express myself and share it with the world, I've just been too darn busy. By the grace of God, I landed a job where I can not only generate money, but I am also able to use my leadership skills and creativity.
On the train ride to work last Friday, I got into a conversation with this woman. Articulate, attractive and touchy. Every other sentence, she placed her hand on my forearm. Initially, I was like "girl, you don't know me, back up!" However, I allowed her to be herself on this short train ride. She asked me to tell her about myself. I was stumped because rarely does a total stranger to ask you about YOU. Initially, I was going to paint this picture like I was just an average guy, but instead, I told her who I was. I focused on my accomplishments during my lifetime because again, it's not very often that many of us toot our own horns, well, there are a select few and they know who they are. At any rate, before I get long winded as many of you know I can do, it was just refreshing to hear myself talk about where I came from. And I am proud of myself. I get those moments where I'm like "God why me?", but then I ask, why not me. I know I have a purpose for being here. I just need to acknowledge it every now and then. You should do the same for yourself.
Give yourself credit today. Share with someone who you are.
Until next week...
It Is What It Is Pt. 5 by Karen Minors
Milan tested me later, asking “Don’t you want a man who could at least pray for you and with you if you were on your sick bed?” She had a point. And I prayed long and hard, and received the same answer that He gave me six months prior to us breaking up for good. I stayed home from work and moved out in one day. I left Joaquin a “Dear John” letter on the kitchen counter along with my set of house keys, and never looked back.
So, here I am, single and successful in my career. I have goals that I still want to achieve, and even though I am no one’s wife, I know whatever God has for me, it is for me. I am no longer that complacent woman in search of her soul mate. When it happens for me, I will have to let go of the past and move on. I have accepted my singleness and am happy for once. My girlfriends are still trying to hook me up, and I am open to dating. I know that this time around, I will not settle for less than what I expect. He must first have a relationship with God. And he must treat me right!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Jennifer Aniston shows her abs in SmartWater campaign
Aniston shows her abs in new SmartWater campaign. She has been the spokesperson for the brand since 2007.
The photo reads "Working out feels great ... afterwards," the tagline for the photo reads. "That's why I drink smart. It's hydration I can feel. (And it's one part of my routine I never sweat.)"
Source
The photo reads "Working out feels great ... afterwards," the tagline for the photo reads. "That's why I drink smart. It's hydration I can feel. (And it's one part of my routine I never sweat.)"
Source
Arts.Advocacy+Wellness: "Teen Actors Light up The Stage in 8 Original Plays"
Teen Actors Light up The Stage
in 8 Original Plays
I do believe that our youth are THE FUTURE.
Two years ago I began teaching acting for a non-profit organization called Opening Act,
an after-school program that provides acting training to under-served teens in various New York City Public Schools. Accepting this opportunity would be my first time teaching youth and in the New York City Public school system for an extended period of time. Prior to this, I would freelance around New York City and beyond conducting workshops and master classes in leadership, acting, dance, and voice. Though that was very fulfilling I felt I never really stayed long enough to make that connective investment and see the young girl or boy grow.
Nervous about this new chapter in my life, I followed my heart and committed to the young girls and boys of Opening Act who dared to dream big, be better, and become more in this life. I knew I had the tools to share my knowledge and professional experience in theater with the young actors, however, I didn't forsee how each student would teach me how to be a better teacher, a stronger artist, a better communicator, a better listener, and a more powerful creative and spiritual being.
I am proud of the experience and gifts that I have been blessed with.
Opening Act provides a space where students can shine, not just on stage, but in their personal lives as well. Modeling its program on providing students with an artistic space where they can develop commitment, community, and leadership through their artistic achievement. Theater is life...Life is theater, and theater is an agent and or vehicle for social change. Change in one's perceptions of who they are, change in one's emotional and physical well being, a change in one's unfortunate circumstance which has the potential to illuminate one's fortunate circumstances.
Hopefully you can hear how deeply I believe in this program and this why today on Arts.Advocacy+Wellness Wednesday I am choosing to feature such an important organization and such important young people.
Therefore I invite you out today, Wednesday May 19th, to the Closing Night Performances of Shades Of Grey. Eight original plays written by the student Acting Companies of Opening Act. Come see what inspiring and entertaining work these young students have worked so hard to write, perform, and produce.
Opening Act brings high quality after-school theater programs to eight NYC public high schools in need. Theater is the medium through which our students gain confidence, pride, and the knowledge that they can succeed at anything in life. Find out more about our work - and how theater can and does transform teens' lives – at OpeningActNewYork.org.
SHADES of GREY
8 Original Plays
conceived, written, & performed by the Acting Companies of
Clara Barton, Cobble Hill, Columbus,
Gompers, Graphic, Lane, Tilden, &
Walton High Schools
FINAL Performances
Wednesday, May 19
Gompers, Walton, & Columbus
6pm wine & cheese
6:30pm curtain
Baruch Performing Arts Center
(at Baruch College)
55 Lexington Avenue
Entrance on 25th Street between Lexington and Third
6 train to 23rd Street
FREE tickets and info:
646 418-7088
A.A+W
with Cornelius Jones Jr.
Tune in next Wednesday for more
Arts.Advocacy+Wellness with Cornelius Jones Jr.
Stay connected with me:
FaceBook: Cornelius Jones Jr.
Twitter: CorneliusJonesJ
FaceBook Fan Page: FlagBoy Official Fan Page of the Actor
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