Monthly Archives: May 2007

Harvey Milk

Posted on May 30, 2007 | Leave a comment

I usually don’t post twice in one day; nor do I have such a serious post. But, I was seriously moved this afternoon by watching the Academy Award-winning The Times of Harvey Milk. I realize that I am only about 23 years behind the curve here. But, this is a deeply moving documentary about Harvey Milk (San Francisco’s first openly gay elected public official and one of the first in the nation). I am amazed that it is still so moving all these years later. Perhaps it is because I live in the part of San Francisco where this all happened.

I should take a moment here to state that I realize some of you do not support gay rights. That’s too much to tackle in this post alone. What I found the most disturbing about this documentary was Dan White’s hate and disdain. It does not matter where you are at on the political or religious spectrum … to hate someone enough to kill them execution style is incomprehensible to me.

It’s not that this is news to me. I knew who Supervisor Harvey Milk and Mayor George Moscone were. I heard of the candlelight march down Market Street that followed their deaths. I read of the riots that followed Supervisor Dan White’s verdict. It’s that I had never seen the footage. It really is an understatement to say that I cried. I wept at the sight of San Francisco in the late 70′s.

I could fully recount the story for you; however, I think that you should see it for yourself.

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Posted in Food for Thought, Gay, Movies

Kiss Kiss

Posted on May 30, 2007 | 1 Comment

What a weekend. I got home from a 4-day trip last Friday, ready to enjoy a nice long Memorial Day weekend. However, my sinuses had a different idea for my days off. Friday night the aches began, and by Saturday morning, I had a full-blown sinus infection. Fuck. Well, as they say, the show must go on. I had lots of plans for the weekend; and, I was not about to let this ruin it. I just would have to become a druggie doped up on ibuprofen with a nasal decongestant back.

On Sunday, Jeff and I went out with the gang to see the excessively-hyped “Pirates of the Carribbean 3.” Arrrrrrggggh! When the gang showed up, we proceeded to go through our standard greetings, involving lots of hugging and dare I say… kissing. Now, I was fully prepared with a skull and crossbones warning about my sickness. “Beware maties….stay away from the dastardly and infirmed Pirate Lord Sir Tyler of the Castro!!” (Ok, so in reality I just looked like shit and they just knew to keep a distance. But, that was what I wanted to say…)

I love it that these friends are so lovey. I just didn’t want to be the one to get them sick. And, they were grateful, for the most part. One friend, who we shall call Juan, for the sake of this post, is the biggest kisser of them all. He’s the type that, when you aim for his cheek, will dodge around back to your lips. You will not deny Juan the kiss…on the lips. He didn’t care that I was the dastardly and infirmed Pirate Lord Sir Tyler of the Castro. It was sweet. I hope he didn’t get sick.

But, more importantly, it got me thinking. In my past, I have always avoided physical contact. Back in the day, I used to even avoid giving “frontal hugs” (as I called them) to girls. I could only hug them from the side. It just kind of grossed me out. Sorry ladies. My dear friend Jaclyn endured 4 1/2 years of “high-fives” because I didn’t want to be to gushy. Don’t worry, I now give her a nice solid “frontal hug” when I say goodbye.

I have another friend from work that, despite all attempts to dodge her, always gives me a big ole kiss on the lips. I swear that she has tried to slip me the tongue. Some people are just kissers.

So. Let’s take a survey. Post a comment and let everyone know if you are a kisser or a hugger, or how do you greet your friends? Be brave. If you have any wierd greeting rituals, let’s hear about them!

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Posted in Friends, Humor

vrrrrroooooooommmmm

Posted on May 25, 2007 | Leave a comment

I am a professional pedestrian. At least that’s how I like to think of myself. When I took the leap and moved into San Francisco from the warmer side of the bay, I also got rid of my car. And, it really was a dream come true. I had always had a car because I had always lived in places where it was a necessity.

It’s been almost two years and I still don’t really miss it…at all. I mean, why would I? I save hundreds of dollars a month by simply using my two feet. And, if we (Jeff and I) need to, we can take Jeff’s car–Gladys. Gladys is a fine specimen approaching 20 years old. Sure, she might be missing several pieces of trim, have a taped on headlight, and smell strangely similar to a 90 year old–which I am convinced is her age if she were human–but, the truth is, Gladys is lucky to be alive. She has been wrecked and stolen (and returned) several times. And most importantly, she runs.

I wish I could say that any of my past cars fared as well. My first car was a 1981 Chevy Citation. Just prior to its demise, the only way to shift gears was to turn the car off–shift–then, turn the car back on. All while going down the road. My next car was a 1988 Ford Tempo. When it died it still had the bailing twine and wire delicately woven throughout the engine to hold it together. After that there was the 1992 Mercury Topaz. It lived a nice long life. However, after a series of unfortunate events involving the radiator and 110 degree Phoenix heat, I left it abandoned at a strip mall never to be seen again.

So, needless to say, I love not having a car! And now that I don’t drive very often, I have had time to perfect my “back seat” driving skills; which, I know are greatly appreciated. I also have grown acutely aware of others’ road rage. In particular, my friend Jaclyn. Jaclyn is the most respectful and caring person I know…until she gets behind the wheel. Frankly, she scares me. Which is another thing, now that I don’t really drive; I get scared riding in the passenger seat. I don’t know what has made me so skiddish.

Maybe it has something to do with almost becoming roadkill, while the ones driving the cars are screaming and honking at each other.

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Posted in Friends, Humor, My Life

All Plans are Subject to Change…

Posted on May 21, 2007 | Leave a comment

I’m fickle. This is really no surprise to anyone who knows me personally. I mean… I am really fickle. I am so fickle that even the most seemingly mundane decisions in life can present me with almost insurmountable choices.

Let’s just take this blog entry, for instance. What you wouldn’t know is that I went through about 5 different titles, 10 different moods, and who knows how many categories before deciding on what you are reading. The only thing certain was that I am listening to ABBA currently. But that was easy, I just had to check Itunes.

My friend Jaclyn has put up with years of hearing me say: “Sure, I’ll go to the store with you…but, remember, all plans are subject to change until further notice!” Now, I realize that she was just wanting me to come to the grocery store with her; but, you know, things can change. What if I decide that I don’t want to go to the store–halfway to the store? Then what? I should just let her know in advance that I might change my mind and she would have to bring me back home. I’m just trying to be polite.

And, I have always been this way. When I was in third grade, we were given the assignment of writing a letter to Santa Claus. I was still sitting at my desk when it was time for recess. All I had written was, “Dear Santa, I want…” What was I supposed to write next? This was a life-altering decision. Did I want that old desk or the blue typewriter?

(please refer to my previous blog entry, “I’m Special”, for an explanation of why a third grader would want either.)

I’m not sure why I am so tormented by making decisions. I am jealous of those people who can say that they know what they want and then they go for it. But, that is not the way I am wired. I will probably spend my whole life trying to decide if I want Italian food for dinner or possibly Japanese…you know, Thai kind of sounds good…

p.s. I got the old desk for Christmas. But, luckily, the blue typewriter arrived for my birthday two months later.

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Posted in Humor, My Life, The Early Years

I’m Special

Posted on May 15, 2007 | 1 Comment

I was a weird kid. Odd. I fully admit it. I didn’t fully grow out of it–I do still have some strange tendancies. Like, having to turn the lights in my place on and back off again just to make sure that I turned them off in the first place. And, I have become really good at hiding my tendancies. My boyfriend Jeff is really grateful for this, I’m sure. However, for the sake of maintaining some dignity, I’ll refrain from fully disclosing too many of my adult “tics” right now.

But, back to my childhood, it was scary enough. Like the time at church camp when I decided to see how far I could pull my pants down before someone noticed. (This was long before it was en vogue to wear one’s pants around their knees.) Much to the horror of several other kids playing 4-square, I made it to about mid-thigh.

I guess I should be thankful that my parents simply allowed me to be… special. I think that’s how my mom put it. Special. I love that word. Special. It is just about the nicest way to say that someone has some serious issues that might require medication someday. “Don’t mind Tyler . . . he’s . . . special.” Actually, I don’t think my mom actually even said that to anyone. She just said it to me. And, well, it made me feel . . . special. Which is exactly how a kid should feel.

And she put up with a lot of my “specialness” because I loved to perform. Not necessarily for a crowd or for family members, which I was asked to on many occasions. I loved to perform for myself. So, I created these routines in the “privacy” of our front yard. It’s amazing how oblivious I was as a kid. I wish I still had a little of that cluelessness.

I would sometimes take my clarinet out front and create marching band routines. Sometimes–and I’m sure this made everyone cringe–I would take a broomstick with fabric tied to the end and create routines. I loved the high school drill team–sequins, flags and all. And, that’s where I was . . . in my head.

During the cold Iowa winter months, I would take my routines to the basement. The great thing about this was that I could strap on my roller-skates and few extra pieces of flare, maybe a skirt, and perform away. The down side was the ceiling. I had a bad habit of accidentally breaking out the light bulbs during the height of my drill team routines. I was never punished for any of this . . . and compared to other stories I hear from gay people. I was extremely fortunate.

Truly the only surprise here is that anyone in my family was surprised to find out that I was gay! My mother passed away in 1998 after a battle with cancer and multiple other health problems. I never told her that I was gay, which I do regret. But, all that matters is that I know she thought I was special. And that’s how she paved the way for me to really accept me for who I am.

Thanks mom!

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Posted in Family, Gay, Humor, My Life, The Early Years