Monthly Archives: October 2007

Agggghhhhhhhh!!!!

I’ve been living in the bay area for close to five years. And, I’ve only felt two earthquakes. One was so subtle that I thought that I was just dizzy (that, too, happens on occasion…). Last night, though, I thought it was the “big one.” My first thought was that something had exploded. It started with a big jolt. I actually saw the walls of my apartment shake. Then I watched the TV stand, lamp and all 9 of my chirren sway back and forth.

In light of my last post, I would like to distract you for a moment. If you haven’t taken the time to meet my 9 children, please do so. Here’s the video. They’ve been begging me to make another video. So, I probably will do that soon. They had so much fun during the first one.

Anyway, back to the earthquake. The shaking went on for about 20 seconds. For those of us who come from parts of the world where the only shaking going on involves deranged drunken parents and their children, it is an unsettling experience. My first instinct was that I needed to get out of the house. My second instinct was that I should put on some shoes. Wait, I should take my cell phone. And, my Mac. I should probably turn the lights off to save electricity…

Ok, let’s just say that–keep in mind, I’m a flight attendant who has been repeatedly trained to evacuate an aircraft with the command: “LEAVE EVERYTHING!”–well, let’s just say that I failed. Now, I have to give myself some credit, the earthquake wasn’t actually as big as the initial jolt made it feel. It was only a 5.6 on the Richter Scale. And, it was centered over 50 miles away.

But, it got me thinking. I’m the one who forced Jeff (who experienced the 1989 earthquake) to agree to my earthquake emergency plan, complete with meeting places in various locations. I should be able to handle the most important step: Get out of the house.

At least I didn’t run out screaming “I don’t want to die!” only to discover I was half-naked and that half of the population didn’t even feel the quake.

Just a thought.

I can be so easily distracted. Sometimes it’s a good thing. Like when one of your plants dies (in my case, one of my children…refer to Meet My Chirren) and you’ve got to get your mind off of it.

“What did I do wrong? I’m such a bad parent. I don’t deserve to raise plants…oh look, Oprah’s on, I’ve been wanting to see this one.”

It really doesn’t take much. Take for instance, right now. I’ve been sitting in my office (the corner coffee shop) trying to get my latest blog post out. I’ve actually been working on it for days now. And, worst of all, the one you are currently reading isn’t even the one I was working on. Although, I probably will eventually get that one out, this one was born out of a simple distraction.

I’m sitting here trying to focus and type when a guy sits down at the table next to me and starts to practically attack his laptop. At least, that’s what it sounded like. He is typing so fast and so hard, it sounds like a hailstorm. Which gets me thinking, “Why can’t I type that fast?”

“I wish I had so much going on in my head that I simply must furiously type it all out before I lose it.”

“Why don’t I have anything pressing going on in my head?”

“Am I that boring?”

“Wow. He’s typing really fast. I hope that he doesn’t break his computer.”

I sneak a glance at him and notice that he has absolutely no expression on his face whatsoever. No sweat dripping off his nose. No brow furrowed in concentration. Hmmm. This makes me think, “Maybe he’s just pretending. He just wants me to think that he can type super fast, that he’s a really important person doing really important business.”

I’m fascinated by the theater of it all. I start to think of how sometimes at work I’ll start walking really fast through the terminal–just to make people think that I am going somewhere important, not to Lubbock, Texas.

Then I get distracted again. “This is a great idea for an article. I bet I could pound this out in about 5 minutes.” And so, I begin to furiously type, lest even one thought should escape my frantic fingers.

Bible Beatings a Growing Trend…

I’m not proud to admit this. Or, maybe I should be. I love Mandy Moore. The new Mandy Moore…of course. I think that her latest album Wild Hope is actually pretty good. She seems to be maturing and separating herself from the era of overly blonde teen pop-stars that we were forced to endure in the late 90’s and early 00’s. I watched a short documentary on her that was actually pretty interesting. She cusses like a sailor (which you gotta love) and enjoys poking fun at herself–especially that ridiculous song Candy. Just in case you forgot how bad the song was, here is a clip from VH1’s Pop Up Video

So, anyway, you get my point. Mandy has not typically been known for her great music. Or, for her great movie roles… I must admit, though, that I loved the movie Saved. She plays the “popular kid” at a Christian High School. This movie is actually a parody of Christian High Schools. To me, it is one of the funniest movies I’ve seen for a while. My favorite scene is when Mandy’s character tries to “save” a girl who has “lost her way.” FYI, she “lost her way” by having sex with her gay boyfriend in order to try to save him. The scene is soooooo funny.

It to mind this morning while I was reading the paper. Evidently, a prison guard was charged with battery for attacking an inmate with a Bible. I guess he was “full of Christ’s love” as Mandy’s character says. I just love this shit. 😉

Shhhh.

So, first an update. I probably am going to have to give up the battle of the smoker. There are just too many of them. Seriously, every time I walk by that laundry mat, there is someone smoking at the front door. In fact, yesterday when I was walking by there was even someone smoking inside the laundry mat. None of the other places in my neighborhood have this problem. I suppose I can win this fight by just going someplace else. It’s just so close…(If you have no idea what I am talking about, read my blog post entitled Taking a stand one pair of undies at a time….)

I’ve been thinking a lot about rights this week. Mostly, why is no one concerned with mine? Maybe it’s because Governor Schwarzenegger vetoed a California gay-marriage bill for the second time this past week. Or, because a co-worker “shhhed” me at work when I was talking about my boyfriend Jeff. But, I’ll get to that in a second.

I admit, I am clearly too sensitive about this. I can’t help it. All my life, I have been a chronic people pleaser. My problem is serious. It really is the battle of my life. I’m winning this battle on small fronts, but, I will probably always struggle with this. For God’s sake (pun intended), I put myself through 6 years of Bible college and denied my sexuality for this reason! I wanted to make my parents happy, my church happy, God happy. And, I thought that if I could make them happy then maybe I would have a chance at being happy. It’s clear that I was wrong. I got the order wrong. I should have been first on that list. Perhaps, I should have been the only one on that list.

Damn. I can really get stuck on an issue, can’t I? My point is this, I spend waaaaaaay too much time worrying about how loud I am on my cell phone, the volume of my TV at night, am I disturbing anyone, etc. etc. etc. etc… It’s the struggle of the people pleaser. I don’t really want to become a selfish, narcissistic prick either. That’s not my goal. But, somewhere there lies a balance. It starts with me taking small stands for myself.

So, back to the work incident. Some background first…flight attendants do lots of talking. Too much, actually. They talk about the passengers. They talk about other flight attendants. They talk about the latest US Weekly. And, mostly, they talk incessantly about themselves. Being the chronic people pleaser that I am, I usually end up listening. And listening. And listening. You get the idea. So, when someone actually asks me anything about me, I jump on the opportunity. Last week my co-worker asked me if I was in a relationship.

Delighted to be asked, I responded, “Yes, I have a boyfriend. His name is Jeff. He’s a food stylist.”

My straight male co-worker said, “Oh, cool, do you live together?”

Amazed at his interest I answered, “Nope. But, he lives nearby…we spend a lot of time at my place of the weekends, though.”

“Shhhhh.” The straight guy said, “Prying ears are listening.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shhhhh.” He points and uses the international sign for me to be quiet.

Now, mind you, at this point in the flight I have already listened to him talk directly in front of passengers about his wife, her job, their arguments, the amount of sleep she usually gets, the amount of sex he usually gets, etc. etc. etc. etc. I was tucked away in the corner of the galley and not talking very loudly about anything racy at all.

So, told him, “Listen, you asked. And, I have every right to talk about my boyfriend Jeff. I have nothing to be ashamed of…”

To which, he turned and walked away. It’s just your typical “straight” male flight attendant arrogance–constantly trying to de-gayify the job. They usually feel that they have a lot to prove, working in a field dominated by women and gay men. They overcompensate.

I’m proud of myself, though. I’ve worked hard at not feeling shame for being gay. Especially, since it is a feeling mostly placed on me by others who are not comfortable with my sexual orientation. It’s interesting to me that he felt no embarrassment in trying to hush me. He just wanted me to feel shame in talking about the most important person in my life. It’s obvious where the real shame here lies.

Taking a stand one pair of undies at a time…

I’ve experienced my first laundry rage incident. And, I will wear it like a badge of honor.

It’s been coming, this laundry rage. You can only pay $5 to wash and dry 1 load of laundry for so long until it finally gets to you. Not to mention all of the schlepping. (refer to That Damn Crack) You really have to play well with others–you know: share your space, clean up after yourself, don’t take too long. After years and years of going to the laundry mat, it finally happened. I snapped.

Here’s how it went down. The laundry mat across from my house burned down about a year and a half ago. Finally, this week it reopened…shiny, clean, and new. I was folding my laundry at the table closest to the front door when someone committed the biggest laundry etiquette faux pas one can make. They were smoking at the front door. Mind you, the irony of someone smoking at the front door during the grand re-opening of a laundry mat that had burned down was not lost on me. But, had the doors not been open, and had the smoke not been pouring right in on my clothes, I probably would not have been affected at all.

But, this was not the case. This guy was just plain inconsiderate. My mantra in life is be kind, be generous, be honest. I figured that I needed to be honest with this guy. And, at first, I tried to be kind. And, I suppose that I was being generous, because, I didn’t say anything during his first cigarette. So, I focused on being honest.

I walked up to him and and asked him, “If you are going to smoke, would you please move away from the door?”

The Asshole responded, “Ohhhhhh, is my smoke boooooothering you?”

So, I said, “Uh, actually, yes. I don’t want my clothes to smell like smoke.”

The Asshole countered, “You should go fold them somewhere else.”

I turned around and ignored him. At least I tried, right? At this point the Asshole (I don’t know his name, so I call him The Asshole) grabbed his chair and slammed it down on the other side of the entrance, his smoke still pouring inside the front door. This is when my life mantra fully went out the window and I just acted. Pure instinct. I marched back outside and shouted at him, “You could at least try to be considerate.”

He laughed.

Despite years of rehearsing proper cussing techniques (check out @$%#!) my best retort was, “Fuck you.”

He threw his cigarette on the ground, which, mind you, is also a laundry mat etiquette faux pas, and went back to doing this laundry. But, hey, at least the smoking stopped. Of course, I did have to fold the rest of my clothes while they stood on the opposite side of the laundry mat and mocked me. But, I honestly didn’t care. I just stood there and smiled. After years of allowing people to walk all over me and my laundry, I finally took a stand. And, it worked! At least for a short while.

Five minutes later, just as I was finishing up, another guy went right outside the door and lit up. Be kind, be generous, be honest. Be kind, be generous, be honest…