<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947</id><updated>2024-10-07T00:41:09.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts of a Southern Homo</title><subtitle type='html'>Where leather boots meets feather boas.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>89</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-8365967983852219277</id><published>2012-07-30T15:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-07-30T15:58:05.534-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wow...</title><content type='html'>It&#39;s been an incredibly long time since I&#39;ve updated my blog. So much has happened and so much is in the works.&lt;br /&gt;
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First off, things with X have been insane. I&#39;ve learned a lot about myself and grown a lot. I feel like I&#39;ve made some changes for the better about my life. X makes me feel empowered to make decisions on my own because they positively affect me, not because they are slightly beneficial for me but mostly benefit others. I mean, this is my 20s. This is the time to think about myself and do things that I want to do, regardless of how it effects others. I don&#39;t own any pets or have any children. I rent my apartment and I&#39;m not married. Absolutely nothing is tying me down and I couldn&#39;t be more smitten. I mean, I&#39;m not monster. I don&#39;t see myself making decisions to purposely hurt others. But for now, I&#39;m putting myself first and enjoying it.&lt;br /&gt;
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Second, I&#39;m sure no one noticed it because I&#39;m sure that the 15 people that are still subscribed to this blog are aware: I&#39;m moving in with X next month. He and I are incredibly excited. I&#39;ve already started to move my stuff in but in about a month or so, I&#39;ll be moving furniture. This is a big step for the two of us. He&#39;s only lived with one other boyfriend before and I never have. We&#39;ve also never introduced our boyfriends to our parents and so far, both sets love the other. My mom said, &quot;He&#39;s so cute!&quot; And that, my friends, was a direct quote.&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s hard to explain, really, how much it means to have my parents approve of X. They&#39;ve never really met boys that I&#39;ve dated. At least not with the knowledge that I was dating them at the time. And to have them approve right off the bat is greatly relieving and reassuring.&lt;br /&gt;
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Third, things are not great between S. We aren&#39;t really friends right now because of some things going on between us. I&#39;m patiently trying to give her the space she asked for. I&#39;m going to stop there because honestly, it&#39;s not right for me to air out my problems like that in a forum this public. But know that I have full faith things will return to the way they were and that this isn&#39;t the end of S and I.&lt;br /&gt;
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I started a new job. I work in the production office of a landscaping company. I like to preface my place of employment so that it&#39;s clear I&#39;m sitting behind a desk and not out in the field maintaining people&#39;s lawns. I love it. I really do. It&#39;s just the right amount of stress and humor. The people are nice for the most part but it&#39;s really my job to put out fires anyway so dealing with upset people is in the job description. The pay is REALLY nice and helping me pay back a lot of my debt. I&#39;ve made a list of all the things I want to buy once I&#39;ve paid all my debt off. The list includes things like a scooter, a new bike since mine was stolen not two weeks after I bought it, new TOMS, a new computer, etc.&lt;br /&gt;
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R, my pregnant friend, is due any day now. James will be the name of her son and we all couldn&#39;t be more excited about the fact that it&#39;s almost his birthday. Nowadays, the first thing I do when I wake up is check my phone and make sure I don&#39;t have a missed text saying that the baby is coming. I am incredibly excited!!&lt;br /&gt;
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Things are going pretty nice here, down south. The summer is brutal but there&#39;s nothing us Texans can do about that. With almost two weeks of nothing but rain, we&#39;re now into the long stretch of the summer where it&#39;s just day after day of intense heat. The rest of the country is experiencing a heat wave (or just recently did) and were complaining about having several days in the 90s and low 100s but to Texas, that&#39;s just called a Tuesday....psh. Suckers.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/8365967983852219277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/07/wow.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/8365967983852219277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/8365967983852219277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/07/wow.html' title='Wow...'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-7232475975217096273</id><published>2012-01-10T15:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T15:40:12.763-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 9</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s desk: No desk because I&#39;m lazy :(&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s completed challenge:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpjbVj3aPFgkkjkymTJ8H9nEvXbqSqsaK9tswIEVw27w0AfY2odWMhmPFqBbuNIhup2mYwbOVXJ8wbWc77zBRSx3lP2D59cJpfIzbpHAAmBwhfC5qO9X4_pH5lOa-5GYILkU99rkta3c/s1600/love.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpjbVj3aPFgkkjkymTJ8H9nEvXbqSqsaK9tswIEVw27w0AfY2odWMhmPFqBbuNIhup2mYwbOVXJ8wbWc77zBRSx3lP2D59cJpfIzbpHAAmBwhfC5qO9X4_pH5lOa-5GYILkU99rkta3c/s320/love.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Today&#39;s challenge was to make something out of my breakfast before I eat it. Well, I didn&#39;t eat breakfast today and the first thing I ate was a candy cane left over from Christmas. There&#39;s a few reason&#39;s why I decided to spell out love. One is for my childish love for candy canes. I will eat anything with candy canes on them, in them, made out of them, anything. They&#39;re delicious. It&#39;s one of my favorite candies ever.&lt;br /&gt;
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I also love Christmas and the idea that candy canes bring me. They remind me of one of my favorite times of the year. It doesn&#39;t really feel like Christmas without candy canes....&lt;br /&gt;
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Today&#39;s entry is bullshit. I can&#39;t focus on it. I&#39;ve been lazy about my writing and trying to fill&amp;nbsp; my life with creativity and now I&#39;m allowing myself to fall into my usual routines of sitting around the house doing nothing. I don&#39;t know what to do. I can feel the creativity slipping. How do I keep myself engaged? How do I keep myself interested? Hopefully I can find something soon.&lt;br /&gt;
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To make up for not having a picture of my desk from today, here&#39;s a picture of my first idea of the candy canes and a funny picture of my roommate&#39;s dog wearing a bow tie.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzF5QdOB2tY_dZmFuskJp65pKnGo0sRgZ5lUeoHIQgfFxSH23x7M_v6C_mz4VpmH9wXCuyAMJiHL7AUO34XVTQ39LrTXhzRt3ih0bvtxBA0D3gWNNpDfNGvxk1CWO4raUhoIY9PlPq9vo/s1600/hearts.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzF5QdOB2tY_dZmFuskJp65pKnGo0sRgZ5lUeoHIQgfFxSH23x7M_v6C_mz4VpmH9wXCuyAMJiHL7AUO34XVTQ39LrTXhzRt3ih0bvtxBA0D3gWNNpDfNGvxk1CWO4raUhoIY9PlPq9vo/s320/hearts.jpg&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyk4KI0mSLhyphenhyphenm5MqtJGQDy3OKP5bv06wEeN2nJcWTgbeMMMClhFD044S7u08seGESmQjWsDLfUlBOT8ARG-yS_90mVtl-v3Fll1CNu3OT2oktB4y06Y5iqsLxw2VVoArL9E-bdUpUBcY/s1600/bart.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyk4KI0mSLhyphenhyphenm5MqtJGQDy3OKP5bv06wEeN2nJcWTgbeMMMClhFD044S7u08seGESmQjWsDLfUlBOT8ARG-yS_90mVtl-v3Fll1CNu3OT2oktB4y06Y5iqsLxw2VVoArL9E-bdUpUBcY/s320/bart.jpg&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/7232475975217096273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-9.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/7232475975217096273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/7232475975217096273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-9.html' title='Day 9'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpjbVj3aPFgkkjkymTJ8H9nEvXbqSqsaK9tswIEVw27w0AfY2odWMhmPFqBbuNIhup2mYwbOVXJ8wbWc77zBRSx3lP2D59cJpfIzbpHAAmBwhfC5qO9X4_pH5lOa-5GYILkU99rkta3c/s72-c/love.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-2436658053160962449</id><published>2012-01-09T01:48:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T01:48:36.573-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 8</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s desk:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6hqx_vhR7Sr-9WLB-rHdG4PTk99nr_XxIGBlVjETpZTxp6sSO61abIllzCnhBdzhTOvqHkLZWKgmZuFl5Fm85zSbGmocoYnzTMBqzURjG7avvHpkIwareX1uKORvl6cG0WcfGdLgN0Y/s1600/day+8.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6hqx_vhR7Sr-9WLB-rHdG4PTk99nr_XxIGBlVjETpZTxp6sSO61abIllzCnhBdzhTOvqHkLZWKgmZuFl5Fm85zSbGmocoYnzTMBqzURjG7avvHpkIwareX1uKORvl6cG0WcfGdLgN0Y/s320/day+8.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s completed challenge:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjojCH5S3yCgl-yi8jDXozSKIjzuHZigWgPdvXq6YIHxq0fdxlxK6OUqMeDHnsVjq0cOjFIxPe7FuGhG3jYXpNv2sLnyiuwGcqeYjlULL2kAWjqEJfEH0_tKhtJEwTEps1kNRwsug20vRs/s1600/oath.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjojCH5S3yCgl-yi8jDXozSKIjzuHZigWgPdvXq6YIHxq0fdxlxK6OUqMeDHnsVjq0cOjFIxPe7FuGhG3jYXpNv2sLnyiuwGcqeYjlULL2kAWjqEJfEH0_tKhtJEwTEps1kNRwsug20vRs/s320/oath.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Today my prompts told me to take an old book and change it by cutting, gluing, taping, etc. Anyone that knows me that there&#39;s NO WAY I could do that. I considered turning a book into a hide-away-box but 1) that takes forever to do. Trust me, I know, I&#39;ve looked. And 2) HOW COULD I CHOOSE WHICH ONE OF MY BOOKS TO MAIM!? So ridiculous and yet, so true. I really could not choose. I don&#39;t even think if I went out and bought a book just for today&#39;s project, I could sit down and destroy it. I mean seriously, I&#39;d rather read Twilight than destroy it. I just can&#39;t do it, I&#39;m sorry.&lt;br /&gt;
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So, I took an oath. In front of all of you and on my desk to forever remind me that I....will never destroy a book. It&#39;s cheesy and lame and silly and written at 1:30 AM but it&#39;s true. I will never destroy a book to the point that the story can&amp;nbsp; no longer be read.&lt;br /&gt;
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Now, don&#39;t get me wrong. I was pretty close to buying a copy of Pride and Prejudice and hiding some dog treats in it so my dogs would destroy it for me. But then I thought, &quot;No....because no matter how much my enemy hates me, I&#39;d never want my books destroyed.&quot; I&#39;m so fucking benevolent sometimes.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/2436658053160962449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-8.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2436658053160962449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2436658053160962449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-8.html' title='Day 8'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6hqx_vhR7Sr-9WLB-rHdG4PTk99nr_XxIGBlVjETpZTxp6sSO61abIllzCnhBdzhTOvqHkLZWKgmZuFl5Fm85zSbGmocoYnzTMBqzURjG7avvHpkIwareX1uKORvl6cG0WcfGdLgN0Y/s72-c/day+8.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-1387303743835819614</id><published>2012-01-07T17:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T17:45:06.305-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 7</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s desk:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYV51sAYTGYcR3YCZpBI5FZsd_0v0M6Iajm0fACjF-vr3DRo6jkEXDjkUJKOWPGa0wI5fznuh99mxcsGcc8ZP4Vu0CxRev4OQt9OinFe6g9spXku0kgA05xkTJnB5BFi7rJY-JxFz-mQ4/s1600/day+7.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYV51sAYTGYcR3YCZpBI5FZsd_0v0M6Iajm0fACjF-vr3DRo6jkEXDjkUJKOWPGa0wI5fznuh99mxcsGcc8ZP4Vu0CxRev4OQt9OinFe6g9spXku0kgA05xkTJnB5BFi7rJY-JxFz-mQ4/s320/day+7.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s completed challenge:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNe2h0urcMaIc8-RbKmAprfOk90PtjsIyXput58Ou1M55Va5P0D4CZQdW74j3G_uIoqt7fv2Wjz22TZ03B8HPFKLImLrspgZH1JWkYxqmC60dBVUqsDHNSLYfHjZZ_PSWr3A_QhNzBrRg/s1600/hipster.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNe2h0urcMaIc8-RbKmAprfOk90PtjsIyXput58Ou1M55Va5P0D4CZQdW74j3G_uIoqt7fv2Wjz22TZ03B8HPFKLImLrspgZH1JWkYxqmC60dBVUqsDHNSLYfHjZZ_PSWr3A_QhNzBrRg/s320/hipster.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Today I had to make a stencil for my inspiration. So, I thought about all of my favorite graffiti artists and what they used for their stencils. It all kind of came to me at once. I realized that they all say what they&#39;ve always wanted to say in the clearest, most concise manner possible. So I thought: &quot;What is it that I&#39;ve wanted to say to everyone for a long time.....be a hipster.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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And honestly? Why not. Just do it. Seriously. It&#39;s fun! You don&#39;t have to care about anything or worry about being uncool because you just pretend like everyone else around you is the most uncool, thus making you the cool one. You can like strange things and no one cares. Everything you find is art, a photoshoot or some sort of lost treasure. It&#39;s amazing to be a hipster. I really think that &quot;hipster&quot; is just secret code for &quot;just act like yourself.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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Well, maybe it&#39;s not. I mean, it&#39;s entirely possible that I am just a hipster at heart. So I embrace my hipsterhood. I pick out clothes based on hipsterness and how many times I&#39;ve seen it before. I decorate my universe with a hodgepodge of things that don&#39;t really make sense but it doesn&#39;t really matter because all of it is &quot;soooo me.&quot; At least according to my Heathers, it is.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/1387303743835819614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-7.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/1387303743835819614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/1387303743835819614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-7.html' title='Day 7'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYV51sAYTGYcR3YCZpBI5FZsd_0v0M6Iajm0fACjF-vr3DRo6jkEXDjkUJKOWPGa0wI5fznuh99mxcsGcc8ZP4Vu0CxRev4OQt9OinFe6g9spXku0kgA05xkTJnB5BFi7rJY-JxFz-mQ4/s72-c/day+7.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-2878581184485417500</id><published>2012-01-07T16:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T16:42:49.968-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 6ish</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s desk:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiE5IiHgLO0KzZ66gSykrzWy2_tggjctPxR5Y1go0OxsMMGeAtjsWCQt1K3lLSU7Dq_VD8r-NrqUuKfEbPsNR0_WZDjNxUQWXlzDpYVecdnlUn1bzTBdR6PEEWkPsTUdRD-VGSSklbhmY/s1600/day+5.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiE5IiHgLO0KzZ66gSykrzWy2_tggjctPxR5Y1go0OxsMMGeAtjsWCQt1K3lLSU7Dq_VD8r-NrqUuKfEbPsNR0_WZDjNxUQWXlzDpYVecdnlUn1bzTBdR6PEEWkPsTUdRD-VGSSklbhmY/s320/day+5.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s completed challenge:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8lbRrzFRoGZduloNU_fgDi3gn4KexLS835MYm_FnxSFokaPx4v9OI_NQNRw0Fk4v4zJ6383v6if_giqH8OCYSx3O_D8vVPwIvP-J_3DYVUgqRzyCPcQHxGKLLu4Uuw4uEPcwQWD8Qfvk/s1600/banana.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8lbRrzFRoGZduloNU_fgDi3gn4KexLS835MYm_FnxSFokaPx4v9OI_NQNRw0Fk4v4zJ6383v6if_giqH8OCYSx3O_D8vVPwIvP-J_3DYVUgqRzyCPcQHxGKLLu4Uuw4uEPcwQWD8Qfvk/s320/banana.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Soo...I was busy yesterday. It may or may not have anything to do with X, the boy I went on a date with. Anyway, so today I had to go into the kitchen and do something with the first fruit I saw. In all honesty, a lemon was the first fruit I saw and I knew it would be. Before I went in there, I tried my best of things to spell out with a lemon but I couldn&#39;t think of anything that would matter. So I looked around. Yeah, that&#39;s right. I cheated. But you know what? It&#39;s my project so step off.&lt;br /&gt;
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So I saw the orange and again, I was at a loss for words. I couldn&#39;t think of anything for an orange besides, &quot;Orange you glad I didn&#39;t pick up a banana?&quot; And that&#39;s how we got to today. It&#39;s not the most glamorous of completed challenges and it&#39;s not even the most creative but I&#39;ve got about 359 more of these soo...there are bound to be a few that I&#39;m just not proud of.&lt;br /&gt;
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You know, the funny thing is, I AM proud of this. I like the way it turned out! Sure, it&#39;s cheesy but look at the picture! You have to admit that the orange rind, the knife, the cutting board, sure the lighting could be better but we&#39;re not all perfect. I&#39;m quite happy with my challenge today....less inspired by my desk but that&#39;s alright.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/2878581184485417500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-6ish.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2878581184485417500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2878581184485417500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-6ish.html' title='Day 6ish'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiE5IiHgLO0KzZ66gSykrzWy2_tggjctPxR5Y1go0OxsMMGeAtjsWCQt1K3lLSU7Dq_VD8r-NrqUuKfEbPsNR0_WZDjNxUQWXlzDpYVecdnlUn1bzTBdR6PEEWkPsTUdRD-VGSSklbhmY/s72-c/day+5.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-332929047604903295</id><published>2012-01-05T12:49:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T13:02:51.534-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 5</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s desk:&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_j26pGJJbAT-gV_VTP-8x_jL3WgnmRa9qi9Y7K4soGDbz7urajdmo0bLU9kzjIc32jJj3PYL7xBtzk8lAP_3uor3PnB0qKfizwimPwFlucrChyl5f8XwHJdhlBCQs3tCpPqORiL-n4A/s1600/day+5.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_j26pGJJbAT-gV_VTP-8x_jL3WgnmRa9qi9Y7K4soGDbz7urajdmo0bLU9kzjIc32jJj3PYL7xBtzk8lAP_3uor3PnB0qKfizwimPwFlucrChyl5f8XwHJdhlBCQs3tCpPqORiL-n4A/s320/day+5.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s completed challenge:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg290Kd4sofL67UA8Mi5c-bp0fjHhVS7_XxHvrRGvly_9b0rPExTJCGwnd358ojwmcvOUvsroWHccXfvlIE2KtL0LwWz23d9EcyvIxRbXGqtsGVkCrV2pC7mpMWQ_jt0tf6M9GZX48HcUw/s1600/book.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg290Kd4sofL67UA8Mi5c-bp0fjHhVS7_XxHvrRGvly_9b0rPExTJCGwnd358ojwmcvOUvsroWHccXfvlIE2KtL0LwWz23d9EcyvIxRbXGqtsGVkCrV2pC7mpMWQ_jt0tf6M9GZX48HcUw/s320/book.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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I cleaned my desk today! Hurray! Still reeling from my date last night, I&#39;m doing my best to be productive, starting with my desk. My goals are to clean the kitchen, vacuum, clean the tub, clean my room, change my sheets and spray my room with frebreeze because for some reason it smells in there. Does anyone else&#39;s room get like that? Why does it do that? How do I keep it from happening? I think I just need to change my sheets more often.&lt;br /&gt;
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One of my postcards made it to the destination! Did I tell you guys about that? I&#39;m writing postcards to strangers via a website: postcrossing.com. It&#39;s pretty nifty. You send out postcards to strangers and you get postcards back from other strangers. So yeah, since one of mine arrived (you can have up to 5 &#39;traveling,&#39;) I can send out another one! So I need to add that to my list too.&lt;br /&gt;
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Today&#39;s challenge was about collections and it&#39;s not unknown that I collect copies of Wuthering Heights. Sooo...I used my collection to spell out, what else, book! It took me a couple of tries. Stacking books is a lot harder than you think and I had to work with books that are ridiculous shapes. And yes, that&#39;s the stacks of books I used to spell BOOK sitting on my desk. I&#39;ve already put them away haha. I&#39;m really liking these daily challenges. I&#39;ve never felt more creative and I love it! This is what I&#39;m born to do: create something all the time and stress the side of my brain that I used to use constantly. It makes me feel like I&#39;m doing something with my life and I feel accomplished...even after just 5 days. With 360 more days to go, I have a feeling I can totally do this. :)</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/332929047604903295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-5.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/332929047604903295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/332929047604903295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-5.html' title='Day 5'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg_j26pGJJbAT-gV_VTP-8x_jL3WgnmRa9qi9Y7K4soGDbz7urajdmo0bLU9kzjIc32jJj3PYL7xBtzk8lAP_3uor3PnB0qKfizwimPwFlucrChyl5f8XwHJdhlBCQs3tCpPqORiL-n4A/s72-c/day+5.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-397328827692659617</id><published>2012-01-05T12:16:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T12:16:42.232-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 4ish</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s desk:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5TAclbaULgMF1_0LPPwWFc656zeBmS8BeiDnB_hq3y2bTfbGXbHsXuxKkF5uCycmrG0wSZDqAe_oB8RoWISAsvXDzIUNIaEUP1sSXnTrw4W5Fi7rt-WrGOZ5pL-A-PYi02BsdlEA-__4/s1600/Day+4.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5TAclbaULgMF1_0LPPwWFc656zeBmS8BeiDnB_hq3y2bTfbGXbHsXuxKkF5uCycmrG0wSZDqAe_oB8RoWISAsvXDzIUNIaEUP1sSXnTrw4W5Fi7rt-WrGOZ5pL-A-PYi02BsdlEA-__4/s320/Day+4.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s completed challenge:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuE5TBrdXx4zGmbBQHLe7Gev7fgY-RnkauhpCL4Rnlo9K1IMRIbU12EtxU24O9bKtHRXgp34fP0yX29d9LRb5cRLq0dDIFsnk152l9io0AjKfwZEXO1Wv6BE-1iOprMTgs-Z57Ygmsy1Y/s1600/date+night.jpeg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuE5TBrdXx4zGmbBQHLe7Gev7fgY-RnkauhpCL4Rnlo9K1IMRIbU12EtxU24O9bKtHRXgp34fP0yX29d9LRb5cRLq0dDIFsnk152l9io0AjKfwZEXO1Wv6BE-1iOprMTgs-Z57Ygmsy1Y/s320/date+night.jpeg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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So I know that this is a day late but I have an excuse. There&#39;s a guy. His name is X. And I told X abut my 365 day project and yesterday he asked me what my challenge was: take a five minute walk and make something out of whatever you find there. Document it and leave it for someone else to find. So he told me that my walk should end at his apartment (because he lives about five minutes away.) So I asked what would be waiting for me at the end of my walk. His response?&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Maybe some wine. A good movie. Some cuddling maybe. I might fall asleep.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;You&#39;re going to fall asleep on our date?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Great. Now I&#39;m nervous.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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So that&#39;s how my challenge turned into a date. And I have to say, the date was a dream. I&#39;ve never been on a more romantic date in my life. Half way through the night, I asked him if I could borrow his shoe laces and his bed. He gave me an odd look but relinquished the materials and that&#39;s how we got to our picture today: my bow tie, a cat toy and both sets of our shoe laces. A perfect document of our night.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/397328827692659617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-4ish.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/397328827692659617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/397328827692659617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-4ish.html' title='Day 4ish'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5TAclbaULgMF1_0LPPwWFc656zeBmS8BeiDnB_hq3y2bTfbGXbHsXuxKkF5uCycmrG0wSZDqAe_oB8RoWISAsvXDzIUNIaEUP1sSXnTrw4W5Fi7rt-WrGOZ5pL-A-PYi02BsdlEA-__4/s72-c/Day+4.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-3816737784882579826</id><published>2012-01-03T13:16:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T13:16:43.644-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s desk:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVG5wQAj9pTXAIKL_akN_iPP0n0r_SLBmxebXplnJDw-FCFFtFJyXj2nWUgmdODl1jfacYikxdKyqzYkUnuuQg2nTJQL5Ei51wxAUH80r_PZy01SoMStR7CxycMlV4fBZcjtzX0NeCoI/s1600/desk+3.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVG5wQAj9pTXAIKL_akN_iPP0n0r_SLBmxebXplnJDw-FCFFtFJyXj2nWUgmdODl1jfacYikxdKyqzYkUnuuQg2nTJQL5Ei51wxAUH80r_PZy01SoMStR7CxycMlV4fBZcjtzX0NeCoI/s320/desk+3.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s completed challenge:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihk_q3aMoTWYphPCihvH4bUspLGryqEWpwvtNzDeiJZfRhJxOCzPzOLQKg7RsSHXb6TcVRArUqki8904oeQ-x_YTUMZAiVG_mwZMJQxuOq1yxsNpQh3Hj4Vsu3m3R8yf_Vu5F7L_pISIo/s1600/bow+tie.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihk_q3aMoTWYphPCihvH4bUspLGryqEWpwvtNzDeiJZfRhJxOCzPzOLQKg7RsSHXb6TcVRArUqki8904oeQ-x_YTUMZAiVG_mwZMJQxuOq1yxsNpQh3Hj4Vsu3m3R8yf_Vu5F7L_pISIo/s320/bow+tie.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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So today we had to make something out of paper. On my first try, I thought about making a bow tie out of a paper bag. After a few attempts and lots of tape, I got frustrated and ripped it to shreds. It was just nearly impossible to tie without tearing. Also, I don&#39;t know if you know this, but paper does not slide against itself. It does not bounce back, it does not fold easily. So yeah. I got frustrated and gave up for a few hours.&lt;br /&gt;
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I came back and was talking with S about paying rent. We were trying to schedule our day so that we could both get everything done that we needed to get done. She asked me, &quot;Well, what do you have to do today?&quot; and I responded, &quot;I have to write in my blog, read for two more hours, go for a walk, pay rent and make something out of paper....wait, MONEY! It&#39;s paper!&quot; and I ran off to make my money origami. I can&#39;t really remember when I learned how to do this...or why. But I remember that I was a child around the age of 11. I remember thinking that it was the coolest thing I had ever learned and pretty much folded all of the paper money in the house into little bow ties. My parents were not impressed. I&#39;m certain my mother had half a mind to make me iron all of the money in the house after I had &quot;wrinkled and crinkled all of them,&quot; as she put it.&lt;br /&gt;
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I&#39;m not really sure what it is about bow ties that have suddenly drawn my eye. But I&#39;ve found that I think they&#39;re cute and rarely worn, hence why I&#39;ve decided to start a trend of bow ties and t-shirts. I don&#39;t care what anyone says, I&#39;m doing it. I think it&#39;s cute. I&#39;m wearing a bow tie presently. Anyway, so I took my little bow tie money and taped it to my monitor so now, my desk is dressed for ever occasion.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/3816737784882579826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/3816737784882579826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/3816737784882579826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-3.html' title='Day 3'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVG5wQAj9pTXAIKL_akN_iPP0n0r_SLBmxebXplnJDw-FCFFtFJyXj2nWUgmdODl1jfacYikxdKyqzYkUnuuQg2nTJQL5Ei51wxAUH80r_PZy01SoMStR7CxycMlV4fBZcjtzX0NeCoI/s72-c/desk+3.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-8435160808762714002</id><published>2012-01-02T13:15:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T13:15:19.055-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s desk:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguvYG0yvYBt2Tmr3UXKZZ3qqL6Bpsy6TbTC_MXDi2fjV-UQZ68deBaVYqqbaBiwV63lfhIlfUTAgCHMGUqpfqtg-uEbGgUs82j-KEuxQD0BOjGUTi16_x_MPxJ2UAAda77pcQ1WHg2USY/s1600/desk+day+2.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguvYG0yvYBt2Tmr3UXKZZ3qqL6Bpsy6TbTC_MXDi2fjV-UQZ68deBaVYqqbaBiwV63lfhIlfUTAgCHMGUqpfqtg-uEbGgUs82j-KEuxQD0BOjGUTi16_x_MPxJ2UAAda77pcQ1WHg2USY/s320/desk+day+2.JPG&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s completed challenge:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0djgJUhabi9TNK6vAzLu4HKQsv8qPEKKXAKvmgJFP961739cl306Sdjj36MZ3IPpS1ga5kz4X8tVKPd1Sj2UeRatFMQ9gpwlHKHyRFz2PTqR3_fjYS8ZRhP1ASmhQM8hduTotMlJHPA/s1600/giraffe.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0djgJUhabi9TNK6vAzLu4HKQsv8qPEKKXAKvmgJFP961739cl306Sdjj36MZ3IPpS1ga5kz4X8tVKPd1Sj2UeRatFMQ9gpwlHKHyRFz2PTqR3_fjYS8ZRhP1ASmhQM8hduTotMlJHPA/s320/giraffe.JPG&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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I&#39;m not really sure what it is that I love the most about giraffes. I feel like they&#39;re under appreciated. Also, they&#39;re incredibly tall and I kind of wish that I was that tall. I&#39;d love to see that far. I love their black tongues and their spots and the fact that they only eat leaves and grass.&lt;br /&gt;
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So my challenge today was inspired by two things: WordWorld which is a show that my nephew watches constantly and I find very intrigued by and, of course, my favorite animal the giraffe. First let&#39;s talk about this show. So basically it&#39;s a show full of cartoon animals where everything is made up of the letters from it&#39;s name, like my giraffe up there. It&#39;s pretty cool. I&#39;d show you a picture of the show but I don&#39;t want you guys to be any more disappointed with my drawing than you already are soo....yeah. Screw you. I AM AN ARTIST! But yeah, it&#39;s a pretty interesting show. Things no longer hold their shape when you separate the letters. It makes me wonder what would happen if you separate the letters of the characters...would they die or just be temporarily not there? I feel like there was a show or two where a character&#39;s letters fell apart but I&#39;m not really sure what happened. I should record that show on my DVR to see if I can find an episode where that happens. I really shouldn&#39;t record it, actually. 1) Our DVR is already full of everything and 2) my roommate already thinks I&#39;m the weirdest person alive. She doesn&#39;t need any more reasons.&lt;br /&gt;
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Potential memoir title? My Roommate S. I feel like I&#39;ll end up writing several books about various parts of my life...at least I hope so. Is it painfully clear that I want to be David Sedaris or Augusten Burroughs? I try not to be obnoxious about it but it&#39;s true. Does any other writer sit around and think of book titles? Sometimes it&#39;s just something I see or something I hear. Sometimes it&#39;s just a thought that comes into my head. And I just imagine the book cover with my pen name...the font. My picture on the inside of the jacket. I see it all. I see myself as a published author. I just need the book to come out. You know what hinders the book coming out? When I get thrown off of my groove. Nothing drives me more crazy that being in the flow and thinking that I&#39;m funny and I have so much to say and words are flying onto the page, and someone asks me a question or demands my attention and then all of the sudden...everything is silent. My brain shuts down and stops allowing thoughts and ideas to flow freely from my brain to my fingers. Oh man, that drives me nuts. I don&#39;t get frustrated when they interrupt me. They can&#39;t help it. They&#39;re unaware that it stops me completely. No, I get frustrated with myself because I &lt;i&gt;should&lt;/i&gt; be able to get right back to where I was, pick up where I left off and continue on in whatever I was doing. And sometimes I can and sometimes I can&#39;t. It&#39;s those times that I can&#39;t that frustrate me.&lt;br /&gt;
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So giraffes....what the hell? No one likes giraffes...I mean, they are cute. And I do have this awesome giraffe mug that has this cartoon giraffe that&#39;s friends with a monkey and they&#39;re both just &lt;i&gt;so happy &lt;/i&gt;to be there. It&#39;s great. You can see it on my desk in the picture. By the chair. Left. Up. There it is. Giraffe mug! Yeah! But I feel like no one else likes giraffes. That shouldn&#39;t be a reason to name an animal as your favorite. I mean, what if someone said cockroaches were their favorite animal? You&#39;d think they were a lunatic and never talk to them again. You&#39;d imagine their home, covered in fake cockroaches. Cockroaches on the bedding, on the towels in the guest bathroom, imprinted on ever cup, plate and bowl, fake ones sitting out, dancing with each other. But how would you know which one&#39;s were real and which one&#39;s were fake?! What if the cockroaches in her house got really smart and figured out that if they&#39;re seen and they just stand really, really still, they would survive. You would never know when you&#39;re sitting on her couch and look over to the bookshelf and see a picture frame and you think, &quot;Aw, what a sweet picture frame! It&#39;s her holding her pet cockroach and there&#39;s a cockroach on the frame! It&#39;s so life like. Is it real? No. It&#39;s not moving...wait, did it just move? Oh god, I&#39;m not sure if it&#39;s real or not.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
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Anyway, can you spot the giraffe drawing on my desk? I&#39;m thinking I&#39;m going to try and do more of my challenges on my desk. I kind of regret not putting my hand on the desk. I think that&#39;d be cool. And I think I have an even better idea for it...Maybe tomorrow I&#39;ll post a bonus picture of my hand on my desk.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/8435160808762714002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/8435160808762714002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/8435160808762714002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-2.html' title='Day 2'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguvYG0yvYBt2Tmr3UXKZZ3qqL6Bpsy6TbTC_MXDi2fjV-UQZ68deBaVYqqbaBiwV63lfhIlfUTAgCHMGUqpfqtg-uEbGgUs82j-KEuxQD0BOjGUTi16_x_MPxJ2UAAda77pcQ1WHg2USY/s72-c/desk+day+2.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-1639416322429914767</id><published>2012-01-01T17:12:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T17:12:12.116-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s desk: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPpuVNLBEOsFY6jhXPg2lFAgoJxdWvuOGnTGpKmSVsTe99aU_nWhYgnne82tIRwXOyHDJ05xOI99lrrfA6BnqsEcfEpeyfRQk0h-jQRe1qREV-BwAbSi8kJowKThR_PmMjVNsHwnVIro/s1600/IMG_20120101_160259.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPpuVNLBEOsFY6jhXPg2lFAgoJxdWvuOGnTGpKmSVsTe99aU_nWhYgnne82tIRwXOyHDJ05xOI99lrrfA6BnqsEcfEpeyfRQk0h-jQRe1qREV-BwAbSi8kJowKThR_PmMjVNsHwnVIro/s320/IMG_20120101_160259.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;b&gt;Today&#39;s completed challenge:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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The thing about fitting something into the palm of your hand is that I feel like your palm doesn&#39;t have dimensions. I feel like the palm of my hand can hold so much and yet so little. It can hold all of my hopes, dreams, the names of all of my family members, names of friends I see on a daily basis, pens, pencils, money, you...the world. I feel like the palm of my hand is both immensely infinite as well as immensely finite. Within my physical world, it can only hold something about the same size as my heart. (I mean grip. I can definitely hold things larger than my heart depending on weight and how it&#39;s proportioned.) But I feel like in the idiomatic sense, the palm of my hand could hold anything and everything. I feel like I&#39;m ill-equipped to imagine things that could fit into the palm of my hand. When I was thinking about this challenge, my first thought was to write a word in the middle of my actual hand and take a picture of that but then I wondered, &quot;What word? Why that word? What does it say about me? What will others think about it?&quot; So I decided to put several words in the palm of my hand. Part of me wishes I had drawn it on my desk...and who knows? Maybe I will later today but I&#39;m just afraid of messing up and paper I can just throw away but I can&#39;t throw away my desk.&lt;br /&gt;
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Speaking of, it&#39;s a mess now, isn&#39;t it? It&#39;s kind of stressing me out. I love to have lots of clean space when I work. That way I&#39;m not compulsively straightening things like I do with the rest of the house. Which is in a rather annoyingly state of shit show right now. Since it was New Year&#39;s last night, everyone just left their drinks where they were and went to bed. If I didn&#39;t have to be up at 5:00 AM this morning, I would have cleaned while everyone slept but I really needed to be asleep. Sheesh, it&#39;s already 5:00 PM! I hate when the day gets away from you.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/1639416322429914767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/1639416322429914767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/1639416322429914767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-1.html' title='Day 1'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyPpuVNLBEOsFY6jhXPg2lFAgoJxdWvuOGnTGpKmSVsTe99aU_nWhYgnne82tIRwXOyHDJ05xOI99lrrfA6BnqsEcfEpeyfRQk0h-jQRe1qREV-BwAbSi8kJowKThR_PmMjVNsHwnVIro/s72-c/IMG_20120101_160259.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-5073834155036790619</id><published>2011-12-27T11:40:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T15:44:17.710-06:00</updated><title type='text'>New horizons</title><content type='html'>Okay here&#39;s the thing....I&#39;m starting this new thing because of my mom.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVMKowKpTvPvJfz3oH0ziGBQ0wADQtQTOXvKQy818duUVQ8OV9FCQwiM3fmxUI1sr82orVrOf8frRQTxm1fVk4dwk3asgaDZTmsQNo9vcru7kO0HS4J4OL3CNPeNLKywxXM7AV-6zsFg/s1600/IMG_20111227_123851.JPG&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVMKowKpTvPvJfz3oH0ziGBQ0wADQtQTOXvKQy818duUVQ8OV9FCQwiM3fmxUI1sr82orVrOf8frRQTxm1fVk4dwk3asgaDZTmsQNo9vcru7kO0HS4J4OL3CNPeNLKywxXM7AV-6zsFg/s320/IMG_20111227_123851.JPG&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
She bought me this book: &lt;i&gt;365: Make Something Every Day and Change Your Life! A Daily Creativity Journal&lt;/i&gt; by Noah Scalin. I know, longest title ever. Here&#39;s a picture of the cover...&lt;br /&gt;
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So I&#39;ve decided that this isn&#39;t a bad idea. I SHOULD do something everyday for a year. It&#39;ll be healthy for me. It&#39;ll give me direction and a creative outlet. It&#39;ll give me something to do with my days besides sit around and get fat. I&#39;ve also decided to include getting slimmer into my 365 days. I&#39;ve decided that before I sit down at my desk, I&#39;m going to do two things: 1) take the dogs on a walk to clear my head, get me out of the house and seeing new things to inspire me. 2) Take a picture of my desk. I&#39;ll put the picture at the beginning of each blog post so that you can see my ever changing desk and work space. You can see what I&#39;m dealing with and if you have questions about anything on my desk, please feel free to ask.&lt;br /&gt;
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So I started reading the book (there&#39;s a small introduction at the start) and it says that I need an audience. That&#39;s where you come in! I need you to be an audience. And a participating one. If you like what I&#39;m doing, tell your friends. If you have an idea, let me know any way you can. If you see something that you think is cool, tell me! I&#39;ll need support and encouragement to do this. I&#39;ve been sitting around for too long. It&#39;s time to take some action and get some creativity out.&lt;br /&gt;
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I should probably write about what I&#39;ll be doing every day for a year. Well, I&#39;ll be writing. And taking pictures. I might do a video or two but writing mostly. I&#39;m a writer, it only makes sense. So I&#39;ll be writing every day for a year. Sometimes I&#39;ll be using the prompts from the book and sometimes I&#39;ll just sit down and vent. For a while now, I&#39;ve been toying with the idea of working on a memoir because I like the idea of having a medium in which to look back at my life and remember everything I&#39;ve done/worn/eaten/seen/heard/all the good stuff. And what better way to do that, than to write every day for a long period of time and then pick out all the good stuff and publish it in a novel. So I&#39;ll be writing. Words are my theme and I&#39;m sticking to them. I also have this idea to make things OUT of words. See also WordWorld on PBS (&lt;a href=&quot;http://pbskids.org/wordworld/index_flash.html&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;http://pbskids.org/wordworld/index_flash.html&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;) So that might end up on here. Anyway, I just wanted to write this post to 1) warn anyone who is subscribed to my blog on their RSS feed and 2) get the word out so that I can get the support I need. :)&lt;br /&gt;
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So yeah....here goes...365 blog posts are coming. I say &quot;coming&quot; because I haven&#39;t decided on when I&#39;ll start. I want to pick a good, solid date to start on......and I want a few more days of laying around before I get down to business. haha</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/5073834155036790619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/12/new-horizons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/5073834155036790619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/5073834155036790619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/12/new-horizons.html' title='New horizons'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVMKowKpTvPvJfz3oH0ziGBQ0wADQtQTOXvKQy818duUVQ8OV9FCQwiM3fmxUI1sr82orVrOf8frRQTxm1fVk4dwk3asgaDZTmsQNo9vcru7kO0HS4J4OL3CNPeNLKywxXM7AV-6zsFg/s72-c/IMG_20111227_123851.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-984530823744334042</id><published>2011-12-26T12:27:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-26T12:27:18.530-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Souls</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;What are souls? What are they made of and where are they? Why can we feel them but not describe them?&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Sometimes I imagine we&#39;re made of a billion points of light swirling around creating something beautiful. Every once and a while our points of light fly out and mix around with someone else&#39;s light and then it makes two souls again. And that&#39;s how soulmates are made. I beloved I have a soulmate. And sometimes I wonder if it&#39;s a man, or my best friend S.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;What if my soul mate&#39;s light is too far away though? I think it has the power to trandscend. I need it to.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/984530823744334042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/12/souls.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/984530823744334042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/984530823744334042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/12/souls.html' title='Souls'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-2851445376250682997</id><published>2011-12-26T00:41:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-26T00:41:28.301-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello Everyone</title><content type='html'>So I recently realized that many people that know me in real life read my blog. So, HELLO REAL LIFERS!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, in other news, I got a mannequin for Christmas. His name is Hank. He&#39;s awesome. Everyone thought I was going to start making clothes, and maybe I will, I dunno. But I really wanted him so that I could put outfits on him so I can see what they look like before I wear them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Does this sound crazy to everyone? Am I the only one who thinks this is a good idea? Because I do. I think it&#39;s great. When I explain this to people, they don&#39;t understand. They give me looks like I&#39;m a psycho. Why doesn&#39;t this make sense to them?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I also got a bunch of stuff that I&#39;m really grateful for. But I&#39;m just really glad for a second chance. I feel like being 24 has given me this feeling of complete and udder renewal. I need my life to pick up from here. I just feel like it&#39;s been pretty bad lately and I have some good karma coming my way. You know? Like does anyone else just feel like they take stuff over and over and over so SOMETHING good has to come your way? Yeah. Well, I feel like 24 is that good stuff coming my way.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/2851445376250682997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/12/hello-everyone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2851445376250682997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2851445376250682997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/12/hello-everyone.html' title='Hello Everyone'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-2157937139529556963</id><published>2011-12-14T15:53:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T15:53:25.538-06:00</updated><title type='text'>December 14, 2011</title><content type='html'>It&#39;s my birthday today...I&#39;m 24 years old. I&#39;m 24 years old and I can feel my bones creaking.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t know what it is about 24 but all of the sudden, I&#39;m dreading getting older. I suppose it&#39;s because it&#39;s a reminder of what I don&#39;t have: a degree, a man, a real job...you know, the things that everyone wants and apparently has now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sometimes I sit around and dream of a rich doctor or lawyer or artist or something will come into my life and sweep me off my feet, give me everything I ever dreamed of and we&#39;ll live happily ever after. But it&#39;s just a dream.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sometimes while I&#39;m unloading the dishwasher, I think about the stories...the countless stories that buzz around in my head but never seem to make it onto the page. Mostly, they&#39;re incomplete and that&#39;s why they never make it. But to be complete, they have to make it to the page. It&#39;s a terrible catch-22 that I&#39;ve imposed on myself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sometimes I think about college. I consider going back and finishing my English degree...or maybe starting over and going to culinary school or beauty school or maybe I&#39;ll just stay where I&#39;m at and live vicariously through characters on the television, people I invent on my pages and my family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m 24 years old today and I can feel my bones creaking.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/2157937139529556963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/12/december-14-2011.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2157937139529556963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2157937139529556963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/12/december-14-2011.html' title='December 14, 2011'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-3570947281888061374</id><published>2011-12-01T17:42:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-01T18:28:08.122-06:00</updated><title type='text'>So this Heather I know...</title><content type='html'>Every once in a while, you come across someone in life who understands you in a way that no one else does. And I kind of feel that way about all of my friends. But the one we&#39;re discussing tonight, he&#39;s gets me a little differently than everyone else. Now, I know that at least 3 out of 5 of my friends read my blog so you others, don&#39;t get upset. I&#39;ve blogged about all of you too. It&#39;s his turn now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By now you know that none of my friend&#39;s names are revealed on my blog and this one will be no different.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I met T only a few months ago. Once I had reconnected with my now-over high school crush J, (see &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://tinyurl.com/7dkt77t&quot;&gt;http://tinyurl.com/7dkt77t&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; for more information)&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;he invited us to meet his boyfriend in Galveston. S and I couldn&#39;t have been more excited to get out of the apartment so we jumped at the chance to lay in the sun with a pair of gay boys. But here&#39;s the thing. I had dyed my hair platinum blonde like two months before that so my roots had grown out, my eyebrows looked like caterpillars on my face and the wash had rinsed out leaving my platinum blonde looking more like lemon yellow...it was bad. But I was poor. And I told J that I was embarrassed about the state of my hair and he said, &quot;Oh, don&#39;t worry about it. He won&#39;t say anything.&quot; That&#39;s a direct quote. DIRECT QUOTE FROM THE BOYFRIEND!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So there we are, a little drunk, covered in sand and trying not to burn. Being incredibly embarrassed by my hair I figured it was best to just bring it up and apologize for the state of it before anyone had a chance to get in any snide comments...*cough*J*coughcough.* Here&#39;s how the conversation went down:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
T: I like your hair.&lt;br /&gt;
K: Thanks...it&#39;s not my natural color.&lt;br /&gt;
T: (*completely sarcastic*) Really? I never would have guessed.&lt;br /&gt;
K: *mortified*&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In hindsight, the situation was pretty hilarious and I really did set myself up for that so while I&#39;m STILL embarrassed about it, I&#39;ve learned to laugh at it. Anyway, the reason why I told that story was because it was at THAT moment that I realized that T was no bitch to be trifled with. He was fierce and fabulous and completely unexpected.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As T and I got to know each other, we realized that we really needed to take our relationship to the next level. So one night, when getting to know each other, we discovered that not only did T love RuPaul&#39;s Drag Race just like me, but he also had aspirations of being a stiletto stomping drag queen! For those who don&#39;t watch RPDR or have never seen the 1988 film &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0097493/&quot;&gt;Heathers&lt;/a&gt;, four drag queens called themselves the Heathers because they were the prettiest girls in the competition (RPDR.) Heathers, the movie, was Mean Girls before Mean Girls; they were the prettiest girls in school. And one night, while J and I were drunk and he called me Heather. Then he looked at me, gasped and shrieked, &quot;Oh my god! We&#39;re Heathers!&quot; So I shrieked and called T. It should be noted that this is the first time I had ever called him ever and he didn&#39;t even have my number yet. Anyway, I left him a voicemail that ended up sounding something like this:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
T, just in case you were wondering, you, J and I are now Heathers and we&#39;re gonna call each other that and that&#39;s who we are from now on. So I&#39;ll call you Heather and you call me Heather and we&#39;ll both call J Heather because we are WHAT?! Sickening. Heather.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was drunk. Whatever. The point is, we were no longer friends. We had become girlfriends. And for those of you that aren&#39;t gay of for you gay guys that maybe aren&#39;t close with other gay guys, you might not understand what that means or what that feels like but it&#39;s real. We really are girlfriends. I&#39;d do anything for that girl because we&#39;re more than just best friends, we&#39;re Heathers.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/3570947281888061374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/12/so-this-heather-i-know.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/3570947281888061374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/3570947281888061374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/12/so-this-heather-i-know.html' title='So this Heather I know...'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-4560923719386382888</id><published>2011-11-10T14:06:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T14:38:52.620-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Odd Things</title><content type='html'>So sometimes in my life, I sit around and notice how odd everything is. Nothing seems to quite fit and yet, it does.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What I&#39;m talking about is my roommate. She has this way about her that just doesn&#39;t seem to make sense to me but to her it does. And honestly, I just have a &quot;Whatever gets the job done&quot; attitude towards it. I think you need a few examples.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Last night I was sleeping peacefully on the couch after a long, hard day of watching shitty television and half-assedly cleaning the apartment. At some point, my roommate sweetly covered me in a blanket and then proceeded to film me snoring. Why, you ask? Because I sounded like a boat....and it&#39;s funny and cute when I snore....It makes her imagine what my life will be like when I&#39;m an old man....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sometimes she&#39;ll say things and it sounds like she&#39;s talking to me and she&#39;s looking at me so I think she&#39;s talking to me. But as it turns out, she&#39;s talking to herself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She has a srangly close relationship with animals, particularly dogs. Like...she gets so emotional over animals that I occasionally have to mute the ASPCA commercials and brace myself whenever we drive by people selling puppies out of the back of their van.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
White walls make her feel like she&#39;s living in this apartment only temporarily. Like she&#39;ll have to move back in with her parents when the semester&#39;s over.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mexican food cannot be eaten without sour cream. No exceptions.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She shakes her foot constantly. Like non-stop movement, always shaking the foot. And it shakes the couch and my desk that sits behind the couch. It shakes my soda with it&#39;s ice and straw. It shakes the floor and my chair and the lamp on the other side of my desk. It shakes the world. But she does it because without it, she can&#39;t focus. Whatever gets the job done, right? &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are just a few examples and I&#39;d love to come up with more but I&#39;m afraid that if I do more than 5, she&#39;ll murder me in my sleep....that&#39;s another odd thing. She threatens me....but in a kidding manner? No one can be sure.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/4560923719386382888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/11/odd-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/4560923719386382888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/4560923719386382888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/11/odd-things.html' title='Odd Things'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-2562004253116873503</id><published>2011-10-11T17:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T02:06:08.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Look at Life</title><content type='html'>So I&#39;ve realized that there are both awesome and shitty things about my life presently. Here are the lists in pairs (blue for awesome, red for shitty) for your enjoyment:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
Last Sunday I had two cups of coffee and an aspirin for breakfast.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;Last Sunday I had two cups of coffee and an aspirin for breakfast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
I spent all of today watching television and shopping on-line.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;
I told my roommate yesterday that if it comes down to it, I&#39;ll strip for rent money.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
My DVR is filled with shows from Bravo, Logo, the Food Network and all the major networks.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;
Because I don&#39;t work during the day and nothing is on, my DVR is filled with shows I&#39;ve already seen.....twice.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
Sometimes I don&#39;t wake up until noon.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;
Sometimes I don&#39;t go outside until after the sun goes down.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
I&#39;ve now planned my wedding, decorated my dream home, revamped my wardrobe and learned how to socialize in rich society thanks to TV.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;
I&#39;ve realized how lonely life is when your only human contact is the TV.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
My roommate is my best friend.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;
My roommate is one of 6 people I speak to on a regular basis. (I&#39;m used to that number being somewhere in the 20s.)&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
I&#39;ve come to terms with the fact that I&#39;m a hipster.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;
I&#39;m a hipster.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
I usually don&#39;t go to bed until at least 3 AM.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;
I usually get about 4 hours of sleep.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
I am a drag queen.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;
I know nothing about make up.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: blue;&quot;&gt;
I&#39;ve realized that having pets is a lot like having kids.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;color: red;&quot;&gt;
I have two dogs.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my list. I find it&#39;s nice to take a moment every once and a while and just assess your life. Find the good, the bad and the ugly and try to make it all good. It also helps make me seem like I&#39;m not a complete pessimist. The world&#39;s not all THAT bad.........sort of.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/2562004253116873503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/10/look-at-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2562004253116873503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2562004253116873503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/10/look-at-life.html' title='A Look at Life'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-8386107989974066695</id><published>2011-09-26T09:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T09:27:12.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Teacher friends</title><content type='html'>So I have this theory that there are certain friends in your life that are your Teacher Friends. They&#39;re the people that you&#39;re destined to be friends with so that they can teach you something. Maybe it&#39;s how to tie your shoes. Maybe it&#39;s to teach you how to love. Who knows? But they&#39;re there and they&#39;re teaching.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, so since I was thinking about this. I decided to share with you a few of my teacher friends...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The first one of note came in the form of a short little girl with a crazy last name and huge glasses. We were in love. Well, as in love as two 8 year olds could be. Her name was Trina. (Don&#39;t worry, all of these names have been changed.) Trina was an interesting little girl. She didn&#39;t have many friends but that didn&#39;t seem to bother her. She would just continue to draw little horses in the margins of our text books. She loved horses. And riding bikes. And *Nsync. But most of all, she loved me. She really did. She loved me innocently and without requirement. She didn&#39;t care if I loved her back or if I even liked her. And one day she turned to me and said, &quot;You know Kaleb, it&#39;s okay that you&#39;re different. I&#39;m different too. That&#39;s why we&#39;re so cool.&quot; To this day I don&#39;t know why she said that to me. And I&#39;m still not entirely sure what she meant by &quot;different&quot; but I realized that it really WAS okay that I was different. And I loved myself for that. So thanks, Trina, for teaching me the difference.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Another one of my teacher friends has got to be my friend Mitch. Everything about Mitch is huge. He&#39;s 6 foot something, a huge personality and a giant heart. He does his best to see the best in everyone and give everyone a fair chance. I&#39;ve always admired that about him. And I think the day he taught me something was the day that he forgave me for something I once said. I was accidentally mean to him, said something without thinking and really hurt his feelings. But nevertheless, he gave me a second chance.&amp;nbsp; Mitch taught me that everyone, no matter who they are or what they&#39;ve done, they deserve a clean slate. Thanks Mitch for teaching me about creating a fair world.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The last one that I&#39;m going to share is my friend Jalell. Jalell is an amazing person. He knows exactly who he is and who he wants to be with for the rest of his life. He&#39;s kind, mature and knows how to laugh at life and let things go. Jalell is one of my favorite people on this earth. Recently he taught me how not to be afraid, to go after what I want and REALLY go after it without inhibition or hesitation. He showed me how to fling myself into the universe and not care how long it took me to get there, just as long as I get there eventually. He taught me to be okay with my decisions as long as they were my own. It&#39;s because of him that I&#39;ve really started thinking about my hopes and dreams and forming tangible plans to achieve them. Thank you, Jalell, for teaching me how to dream again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These are just three of my Teacher Friends. In real life, I have hundreds. I mean, honestly, I have something to learn from each one of my friends. But some stand out more than the others.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/8386107989974066695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/09/teacher-friends.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/8386107989974066695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/8386107989974066695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/09/teacher-friends.html' title='Teacher friends'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-3036901246356278621</id><published>2011-09-16T03:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T03:51:27.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriage</title><content type='html'>You know, I think I told myself a long time ago that I would never get married. At first it was because I couldn&#39;t get married in a church. I thought I needed faith to enter into the ceremony. But as I grew older and lost what little faith I had in God, I decided that getting married in a church wasn&#39;t so important to me. But I still didn&#39;t want to get married. I couldn&#39;t tell you why, I just never thought that it would happen for me and I was okay with just a boyfriend for the rest of my life. But now....now I think I&#39;d feel guilty if I got married.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I mean, if I&#39;m going to get married, I&#39;m going to want my family there. And the only way to make sure that they&#39;d all come, it&#39;d have to be in Texas. Plus, there&#39;s just something about getting married in the state I&#39;ve lived in my entire life. But let&#39;s be honest, Texas will surely be one of the last states to legalize gay marriages, if it does it at all. And I&#39;m just not keen on moving to a state just so that I can get married. I feel like I&#39;m cheating the system and I don&#39;t want my marriage to begin with me cheating the system.&lt;br /&gt;
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And then there&#39;s my platform. I have this conviction against getting married while there are still states that will not legalize it. I feel like I shouldn&#39;t get married until everyone can get married. I know it sounds silly but why is it fair for me to be happy while &quot;my people&quot; feel oppressed and their lifestyles are considered illegal? I know that I probably won&#39;t see all 50 states legalize gay marriage in my lifetime (considering it&#39;s only legal in 6 states and DC and I&#39;m 23. [Technically California does not allow it but it&#39;s awaiting appeal.]) It just, I dunno. It&#39;s my tiny protest. I know it doesn&#39;t make sense because I&#39;m giving them what they want but I don&#39;t know what else to do from my tiny apartment in Houston.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I dunno. I think about getting married a lot. Especially recently because a lot of my friends are getting engaged. I think if I&#39;m completely honest with myself, I would say that I&#39;ve been thinking about what my wedding would look like since I was about 13. I&#39;ve always pictured it in a church. Not because of religion, I just really like the image of the inside of a church. I imagined clean lines with the flower arrangements with either greens or pale purples but not both. I know the song I want to walk down the aisle to (and yes I will be walking down the aisle.) If my fiance also wants to walk down, that&#39;s fine. If he wants to walk down with me, that&#39;s fine too. But I will be walking down the aisle regardless. I want to write my own vows and I want a friend to officiate. In my fantasy, it&#39;s the friend that set us up because I think that&#39;d be a nice sentiment. I&#39;d have a new suit, my father&#39;s cologne, cufflinks from my brother and blue socks. S will be by my side as my maid of honor and any of my brothers that want to be there with me will be welcome. I&#39;d want me and my fiance to wear the same suit and all the men wearing the same suit but I&#39;d want it different than what my fiance and I were wearing. The girls could all wear whatever dress they wanted as long as it matched the flowers.&lt;br /&gt;
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The reception would be classic. In the evening with chicken and beef served. My cake would be lemon with buttercream frosting. I&#39;ve picked the song I want to dance with my mother to and the song I want to dance with S to. I know exactly what I want my engagement and wedding pictures to look like. I have an idea of what the invitations would be like.....Needless to say, I&#39;ve thought about it a lot. But that&#39;s kind of the sad part about this blog isn&#39;t it? I&#39;ve spent so much of my life imagining my wedding but it might not happen. In all honesty, it&#39;ll probably never happen. And I don&#39;t know what I would say if I guy got down on one knee and asked me to spend the rest of his life with him...I don&#39;t know. I&#39;d be torn. Am I crazy?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/3036901246356278621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/09/marriage.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/3036901246356278621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/3036901246356278621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/09/marriage.html' title='Marriage'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-265335943751244156</id><published>2011-09-12T15:29:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T15:29:10.691-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A little progress</title><content type='html'>Sooo...I&#39;ve been practicing and practicing with make up. I&#39;ve tried different colors, different brands, different styles. And I&#39;ve come to the conclusion that the eyes are a bitch. Seriously. It&#39;s SO difficult to get the eyebrows just right. And there&#39;s a delicate balance between drag queen and alien. I&#39;ll&amp;nbsp; show you what I mean.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWqwHJLXCXY0ZlKJxqhjsV24TrJ4C0JxZ2KB2_Xh2-q_tyiikxdfkNxrRpgsUnqqRHZZeYEHt4bDe1IJQQ1zYqG3dExqaX8l3ibSwS3bRjo7O8yqGM0NRrSYWLsJXMeGJtEAQOqQvEeU/s1600/pretty.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWqwHJLXCXY0ZlKJxqhjsV24TrJ4C0JxZ2KB2_Xh2-q_tyiikxdfkNxrRpgsUnqqRHZZeYEHt4bDe1IJQQ1zYqG3dExqaX8l3ibSwS3bRjo7O8yqGM0NRrSYWLsJXMeGJtEAQOqQvEeU/s320/pretty.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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This is me with relatively pretty drag queen make up on. I know I&#39;m making a weird face and my hair is a mess but let&#39;s just try our best to look at the make up, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1lVRCoat19YLSYgmJPGcnY9ZzXC7jVKL-jc0X42tjkHFvYsxO6Ss-VM1_uWjRiXTzxj-OcmgklnNyUtnAfOKp_U7SiNQLssizQRx_p-OlMvbnRwppmVdCko2LM7bnTKZac9yGlar9L9U/s1600/ugly.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1lVRCoat19YLSYgmJPGcnY9ZzXC7jVKL-jc0X42tjkHFvYsxO6Ss-VM1_uWjRiXTzxj-OcmgklnNyUtnAfOKp_U7SiNQLssizQRx_p-OlMvbnRwppmVdCko2LM7bnTKZac9yGlar9L9U/s320/ugly.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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This is me as an alien. I know that I&#39;m making an even WORSE face but let&#39;s just be honest, it&#39;s mostly the make up. And what&#39;s sad is this was a legitimate attempt at being pretty. It did not work out. It&#39;s the eyes. Always the eyes. It also doesn&#39;t help that my fake lashes are coated in mascara and lash glue. This was also the day that I broke down and was depressed because all I want for my life is a drag mother to show me how to do my freaking make up.&lt;br /&gt;
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But I think I can repeat that first picture and make myself at least kind of pretty....right?&lt;br /&gt;
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There&#39;s more to a dragformation than just the make up. A dress is important. Here&#39;s the dress as I got it from a friend of mine. It was an old bridesmaid&#39;s dress from...who knows. A funeral probably.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4zcd2280wr-QvGK50WlqUf_8wjpjuGjiPVTXBM878pzAhp6g6pE5x0RbwtOS03xIi4O9oxtpgEyVIMeUYSQCT7D1sKR1kxoAP4ivERimsB4h456GJoiX4axnGYObvsuHJ7Am7rGBUKpo/s1600/dress+1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4zcd2280wr-QvGK50WlqUf_8wjpjuGjiPVTXBM878pzAhp6g6pE5x0RbwtOS03xIi4O9oxtpgEyVIMeUYSQCT7D1sKR1kxoAP4ivERimsB4h456GJoiX4axnGYObvsuHJ7Am7rGBUKpo/s320/dress+1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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And being the crafty gay I am, here&#39;s what it&#39;ll look like after I&#39;m done with it.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ARXZxEhKRfyhtWMS-Fu2lN_1qkveQ3oE6WcR9Lw37cMVYAjOw0QAORGrs31lNkz7cIscg367Zx8I9r7iL07Ua0IHTuGn61W47ABrEkOGS1SHicIHda4m98tAO4m4K2aAt5bSPHWPBjU/s1600/dress.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ARXZxEhKRfyhtWMS-Fu2lN_1qkveQ3oE6WcR9Lw37cMVYAjOw0QAORGrs31lNkz7cIscg367Zx8I9r7iL07Ua0IHTuGn61W47ABrEkOGS1SHicIHda4m98tAO4m4K2aAt5bSPHWPBjU/s320/dress.jpg&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Of course, there&#39;s still a lot of sewing and it needs to be bejeweled. I&#39;m also thinking of adding some fun color. Blue, green, maybe a hot pink. Don&#39;t worry girl, it&#39;ll be fabulous.&lt;br /&gt;
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There&#39;s also the issue of hair. When taking this picture, I realized I HAD to shave my legs. They are way to hairy to ignore. Not only that but I&#39;m going to need to shave my armpits and.....the area in between. I&#39;ll spare you pictures of that.&lt;br /&gt;
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So yesterday, I decided that it was time to get rid of the hair. I went into the bathroom and got my hair trimmer and started going to town. While shaving I realized two things: 1) my legs are WAY more freckled than I thought and 2) if you go 23 years without shaving your legs and then do it in the bathroom, the bathtub can look like a furry creature. So after shaving my legs ONCE with my hair trimmer, it was time to bust out the razor. And let me tell you, for all you readers who are first time shavers, shaving the backs of your legs is impossible. Legitimately impossible. I tried to impose good shaving habits while shaving my legs (going with the direction the hair grew, using shaving cream, never shaving the same area twice without reapplying shaving cream) but all of these when out the window when I kept finding tiny little strips of stubble on the back of my legs.&lt;br /&gt;
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Half an hour later, I came out with these.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDonlULII91St_EeNn2CMCq4wZegb_c8eA4UgWIQMUtqAkrfV46DWWy_6n9bopoMjMfWEYBPB_o3e-EX48W4esvSop8j5MVt1gXr0DuDt4N98GxhZwhwvZFCq8Rn_HenqDfVGnf-x0NY/s1600/legs.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;320&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDonlULII91St_EeNn2CMCq4wZegb_c8eA4UgWIQMUtqAkrfV46DWWy_6n9bopoMjMfWEYBPB_o3e-EX48W4esvSop8j5MVt1gXr0DuDt4N98GxhZwhwvZFCq8Rn_HenqDfVGnf-x0NY/s320/legs.jpg&quot; width=&quot;240&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&amp;nbsp;OOoooOOO! Ahhhhhh! So silky smooth! But now I have the burden of maintaining them. I don&#39;t think it&#39;ll be a problem. My roommate has gone MONTHS without shaving and she still passes for a girl. But we&#39;ll see. When I have more of my transformation complete, I&#39;ll upload more pictures. I should be getting a dress and a wig and shoes soon so I&#39;m almost there! Everyone get excited! Too bad I still need a name though...ugh!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/265335943751244156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/09/little-progress.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/265335943751244156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/265335943751244156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/09/little-progress.html' title='A little progress'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWqwHJLXCXY0ZlKJxqhjsV24TrJ4C0JxZ2KB2_Xh2-q_tyiikxdfkNxrRpgsUnqqRHZZeYEHt4bDe1IJQQ1zYqG3dExqaX8l3ibSwS3bRjo7O8yqGM0NRrSYWLsJXMeGJtEAQOqQvEeU/s72-c/pretty.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-595649926130343403</id><published>2011-09-04T17:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-04T17:45:29.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fine. I&#39;ll say it.</title><content type='html'>I&#39;ve been keeping a secret from people for a while. Sort of just slowly telling people in a sort of &quot;one toe at a time&quot; kind of thing as opposed to &quot;cannon ball into the deep end.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But anyway, I&#39;ve decided that I want to try drag. I&#39;m not really sure if I&#39;m going to do this professionally or if it&#39;s just &quot;yeah maybe I&#39;ll do this once in a while&quot; but I want to try it. I&#39;ve been thinking about being a drag queen for a few months now and I&#39;ve only been serious about it for a few weeks. So far I&#39;ve tried to do my own makeup (beat my face, for those not in the know) and it turned out....interestingly. I think the lack of wig really pulls back from it. But I&#39;m pretty broke and finding a nice wig is difficult when you&#39;re in the poverty way.&lt;br /&gt;
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ANYWAY, so yeah. K the drag queen. It&#39;s hard...making this decision. For a while, I was kind of embarrassed. I didn&#39;t know how people would react.(I still don&#39;t know.) But it felt like coming out of the closet all over again. I feel like I have to tell everyone I know about this new chapter in my life and cut out the people who are unwilling to be supportive.&lt;br /&gt;
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I also feel the need to explain my decision to everyone...if that makes any sense. I need people to understand that I don&#39;t want to be a drag queen because I want to BE a woman. I will NEVER want to cut off my penis and replace it with a vagina. It&#39;s just not something I want for my life. I want people to still see me as a man. I am a man. And I&#39;d still like to date men who like men. Being a drag queen is like dying my hair blonde. Sure I could change it but why? I like the way it looks and it&#39;s fun. So there. I said it. I want to be a drag queen. I am a drag queen......bitches.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
Okay so do you want to help me choose&amp;nbsp; drag name? First, I have to say that I&#39;m in love with all the names that my friends have suggested which is why I&#39;m having such a hard time picking one. I feel like my drag name needs to reflect my drag personality. But what is that? Sex kitten? Silver-tongued she-devil? Innocent but slutty? I&#39;m not really sure. And I&#39;m not really sure how to go about figuring that out. In fact, I&#39;m not really sure about a lot of things. Just kind of flying by the seat of my skirt around here....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, let&#39;s get to the names. I&#39;ve gotten a lot of help from my friend M, a gay man well versed in gay culture. M suggested &lt;b&gt;Startini&lt;/b&gt; as his favorite name. But I&#39;m just always questioning, &quot;Is this right for me?&quot; I mean, I love the name and I do love martini&#39;s. And I kind of see myself as a star (cut to me yelling at my roommate, &quot;I AM A CELEBRITY! PEOPLE KNOW WHO I AM!&quot; while drunk at a wedding.)&lt;br /&gt;
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S, my roommate, suggested &lt;b&gt;Minny Skirt&lt;/b&gt; and &lt;b&gt;Tequila Mockingbird&lt;/b&gt;. I do love myself a good miniskirt and Tequila Mockingbird plays at my literary side. (Trust. If I could turn &lt;i&gt;Wuthering Heights&lt;/i&gt; into a drag name, I&#39;d be all over that shit.)&lt;br /&gt;
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If I go the sterotypical way (first name = first pet last name = street I grew up on) it&#39;d be&lt;b&gt; DJ Bristol&lt;/b&gt;. Which has a fun ring to it but I feel it gives off the wrong vibe. I don&#39;t need people asking me to make a remix. Fuck y&#39;all. Do you want to see a man dressed as a woman lip sync for her life or do you want to see a man dressed as a woman punch you in the face because only one of those is happening and I don&#39;t hear any music playing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;But anyway. That&#39;s my secret. I&#39;m a drag queen with no wig, no dress, no shoes and no name. I&#39;ve got some make up here though so that&#39;s fun....</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/595649926130343403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/09/fine-ill-say-it.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/595649926130343403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/595649926130343403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/09/fine-ill-say-it.html' title='Fine. I&#39;ll say it.'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-1863521764042587263</id><published>2011-09-03T13:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T13:51:56.484-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shamlessly Stolen</title><content type='html'>So I&#39;ll have to admit. This blog post idea is shamelessly ripped from a friend of mine. She, also a blogger, wrote about the days of the week (no, seriously) and that &quot;feeling&quot; that each gives you. You can read all about it here: &lt;a href=&quot;http://tinyurl.com/3utjm57&quot;&gt;http://tinyurl.com/3utjm57&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
In fact, you should read her entire blog. She&#39;s pretty great at it. She used to write about teacher (&lt;a href=&quot;http://bothsidesofthedesk.blogspot.com/&quot;&gt;http://bothsidesofthedesk.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;) so go read that too. ANYWAY, the days of the week. Here&#39;s how I view my week:&lt;br /&gt;
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I mean, let&#39;s just be honest here, I only work two days a week. Which, in theory, sounds nice. But when you&#39;re living on 100 a week, it blows. But alas, that&#39;s my provincial life. And what really makes things worse is those two days are Friday and Saturday. So Sunday through Thursday, I&#39;m sitting at home, working for my job that I do from home...and eat....and watch shit TV...and sleep....a lot. So yeah, on Friday nights when everyone else is getting ready to go out, I&#39;m getting ready for bed. Since I have to wake up at 5:00 AM, I try to be asleep by midnight which means going to bed at 10:00 PM. I repeat this same cycle on Saturday night which sucks because it&#39;s, again, a night usually set aside for frivolity.&lt;br /&gt;
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But, like my blogger friend, I&#39;ve learned to adapt and change my mindset on which days of the week are dedicated to different activities. Sunday nights are my Friday nights. I beg my friends to go out and drink or dance. Mondays are more like my Saturdays. Lounging around not doing a whole lot. Then Monday nights I&#39;m itching to do something fun. By the time Tuesday rolls around, I&#39;m not really what to feel. I don&#39;t have to go to work but I&#39;ve already had my two days off relief from my work &quot;week.&quot; It&#39;s kind of like...a second Saturday. I&#39;m typically doing laundry, going to the store, cleaning the apartment, or some other chore that I&#39;ve put off. Wednesday, I&#39;m typically catching up on reading, writing some and filming for my youtube channel. Thursday I&#39;m cleaning myself up from my week off, posting my videos and planning out my days coming.&lt;br /&gt;
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It&#39;s not a very glamorous life. It&#39;s not even that interesting, in my opinion. I&#39;m actually kind of regretting this blog post as I write it but alas, here it is. And it&#39;s a lot easier to hit &quot;Post&quot; than to delete all of this. But it makes me curious about what other people&#39;s weeks are like and if they have a typical work week or if they&#39;re more unconventional like mine....Probably the former. No one&#39;s as interesting as me...duh.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/1863521764042587263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/09/shamlessly-stolen.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/1863521764042587263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/1863521764042587263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/09/shamlessly-stolen.html' title='Shamlessly Stolen'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-1303010098449926183</id><published>2011-08-31T07:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T07:45:12.907-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Partime Bar, Partime Coffee Shop</title><content type='html'>Working in a combo bar/coffee shop is....interesting to say the least. Most people are confused by us. &quot;So you&#39;re a coffee shop...&quot; they start, their voices trailing off in confusion. &quot;That also sells beer, wine and liquor. Yup.&quot; I usually finish the thought for them.&lt;br /&gt;
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Since I&#39;ve had experience serving coffee before, I&#39;m saddled with the delightful shifts of opening every Saturday and Sunday morning. Even though the hours are early and they usually keep me from going out with my friends who have &quot;normal&quot; jobs, I actually really love the job. I&#39;m not sure if it&#39;s the relaxed dress code of &quot;Oh...I don&#39;t know. Some pants and a dark shirt.&quot; or the spunky girl that I work with. And apparently I&#39;m the only person that can work with her. I think it&#39;s because we&#39;re the only two &quot;morning people&quot; that work there. But this entry is less about the awesomeness of my coworker and more about the psycho&#39;s that come in to see us.&lt;br /&gt;
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Like any restaurant/cafe/bar/coffee shop/hipster hangout, we have our regulars. I often wonder if these people have real jobs or if they just sit around and grow organic vegetables and wonder why more people don&#39;t wear more burlap. &quot;Once you get past the itchyness, it&#39;s really not that bad.&quot; I seriously heard that a month ago. All of our regulars can be categorized into three categories: 1) Old hippies that think they&#39;re cool because they came to use our free WiFi 2) Hipsters that want to complain about the music we play and won&#39;t order anything but will surely smoke pot behind the building and play the vintage Mrs. Pacman machine we have in the corner and 3) Crunchy vegans that will buy all of our vegan pastries and talk about being vegan all the time. What&#39;s one thing they all have in common? What could possibly bring this hodge podge of people together? They all LOVE to be overly specific with their drink orders. Here&#39;s a sampling of the orders I get twice a week, every week, without fail...&lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;I want a frosted pint glass, filled with ice and hot coffee poured over it.&quot; (By the way, we have iced coffee that&#39;s already cold...I&#39;m just saying.)&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I want a coffee with 3/4 of a pump of chocolate.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Small coffee to go and a small coffee in a RED mug.&quot; (We have about 6 different colors...they&#39;re all the same size and shape.)&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Large coffee with four pumps of hazelnut, two vanilla, three sugar free vanilla and 1/2 pump of almond.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Americano with about 2 oz of water.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Will you just steam some soy milk?&quot; (This one&#39;s not weird unless you see the girl. She doesn&#39;t drink it, she spends the morning smelling it. I can&#39;t make this up.)&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;One part coffee, one part Bailey&#39;s, three parts Whiskey.&quot; (I&#39;m still not sure how we get around serving liquor at 8 AM.)&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Half dark roast, half light roast, simple syrup and pass me the soy milk. You never put enough in.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;
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These people, they&#39;re nuts. I firmly believe that they think the more complicated their drink order is, the more sophisticated they are when in fact, it&#39;s only bringing them closer to death because I seriously want to jab their eyes out.&lt;br /&gt;
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But my ALL TIME favorite orders are ones that don&#39;t involve coffee at all. Before I get into this, I need to give you a little insight. I don&#39;t drink beer. I will if I have to but generally I&#39;ll avoid it when I can. The girl I work with is &quot;allergic&quot; to alcohol so she doesn&#39;t drink ever. I can tell you what any alcohol tastes like and can even make most cocktails but if you have a beer question...well, it&#39;s better if I show you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Customer: What kind of pale ales do you have?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: *blank stare*&lt;br /&gt;
C: *Expectant look*&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Um....I think Dos Equis is a pale ale....This...this one says pale ale. Do you want this one?&lt;br /&gt;
C: Um. No. What else do you have?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Dos.....Equis?? Is...is that a pale ale?&lt;br /&gt;
C: Can I just have the Bass on draft?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Surrreee...*walks over to the tap wall and stares at it blankly*&lt;br /&gt;
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Clearly I have no business working in a bar. Coffee shop? Sure. Me working in a bar is the equivalence of me owning a sports team. I have no idea what I&#39;m doing and would rather make the cheerleaders drag queens, change the mascot to an Abercombie &amp;amp; Fitch model and change the colors to something that complimented my eyes. As I end this blog post, I&#39;ll leave you with two more situations: another overly complicated drink and a time when someone asked me about beer. Keep in mind, we open at 7:00 AM.&lt;br /&gt;
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Time: 7:05 AM&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Good morning, good morning! How we doing today? (typical greeting from me.) &lt;br /&gt;
Customer: Nothing&#39;s good. It&#39;s not morning. I&#39;m still asleep.&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Um...okay. Maybe you should go home and go back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;
C: Are you kicking me out?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: No! Of course not! I&#39;m just saying, if you&#39;re sleep walking, maybe you should go back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;
C: That&#39;s just an expression. No one is ever awake until after coffee.&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Oh. I didn&#39;t know that.&lt;br /&gt;
C: *looking around for the girl I work with who&#39;s smoking out back* Can I get someone else to make me coffee? This kid&#39;s an idiot.&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Sorry, just me today. What can I get you?&lt;br /&gt;
C: Cubano Americano. Large. For here. Three Splenda&#39;s and a splash of soy.&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Alright...&lt;br /&gt;
*the girl I work with walks in as I&#39;m pulling the espresso shots*&lt;br /&gt;
C: YOU LIED! *storms out*&lt;br /&gt;
Girl: What did you lie about?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: Existing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Time: 9:18 AM&lt;br /&gt;
Customer: What Belgian beers do you have?&lt;br /&gt;
Me: *turns and faces the refrigerator for about 3 minutes. Pulls a random beer out.* Thinking &quot;&lt;i&gt;This one came off the shelf that says Belgium.&lt;/i&gt;&quot; Is this what you want?&lt;br /&gt;
C: Shiner Ruby Red? N-no....I want a Belgian beer.&lt;br /&gt;
Me: *blank stare* Soooooo.....not....this......one?&lt;br /&gt;
C: I&#39;ll have a coke.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/1303010098449926183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/08/working-in-combo-barcoffee-shop-is.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/1303010098449926183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/1303010098449926183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/08/working-in-combo-barcoffee-shop-is.html' title='Partime Bar, Partime Coffee Shop'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-2579016349546535731</id><published>2011-08-21T20:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T20:32:45.801-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It happens</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, I weep. I&#39;ll just be sitting there watching TV or reading a book or writing in my journal and my emotions overwhelm me. And I weep. Not loudly, not really even noticeably but I do. Sometimes I weep without tears. Sometimes I weep without reason. And every time I do, I breathe calmly and allow it to wash over me. My emotions are extreme; they always have been. I go from literally jumping up and down with happiness and then I&#39;ll hop in the shower to wash the day&#39;s sweat off (because it&#39;s in the triple digits here in Texas and every day is a new layer of sweat) and I&#39;ll find myself pressed against the wall, hands on my knees, water smacking the back of my neck and tears just streaming down my face. I feel overwhelmed. Money overwhelms me. The dogs we keep overwhelm me. My family overwhelms me. And I weep for them. I weep for the animals that have to be euthanized because no one will take them home. I weep for the children that go to bed hungry. I weep for my mother who still supports her sons even though we should be standing on our own feet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I weep.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I weep out of terror.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I weep out of joy.&lt;br /&gt;
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I weep out of love.&lt;br /&gt;
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I weep out of longing.&lt;br /&gt;
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Sometimes, I weep. But I always.....ALWAYS, collect myself, wipe my face and smile in the mirror. Crying is one of those strange events in life that seems tumultuous and never-ending and strange but afterwards, people feel cleansed and renewed. It&#39;s the hurricane of emotions. Our emotional winds blow and the rains fall and afterwards, our worlds are quiet and we begin again.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/2579016349546535731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/08/it-happens.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2579016349546535731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/2579016349546535731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/08/it-happens.html' title='It happens'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3806644803753736947.post-3044400837424584114</id><published>2011-08-20T13:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T13:10:23.454-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let&#39;s just be honest</title><content type='html'>Look, here&#39;s the deal, if you&#39;re pissed at me. You need to freaking tell me. I hate people that play games and act passively aggressively towards me when they&#39;re mad or frustrated. Now, I&#39;ll admit that I, on occasion, will act passive aggressively HOWEVER, it&#39;s usually a reaction to situations that are just not worth hashing out.&lt;br /&gt;
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But if you&#39;re legitimately mad at me, you need to tell me. HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT YOU&#39;RE MAD?! Don&#39;t give me the, &quot;If you can&#39;t tell by the way I&#39;m acting, then I don&#39;t even know what to say...&quot; How about telling me why you&#39;re mad at me?!&lt;br /&gt;
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I&#39;m so frustrated with the world sometimes. Why play games? What does it accomplish? Who does it help? How can situations be fixed if people don&#39;t discuss it?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Isn&#39;t this also the first step towards world peace? Okay, that&#39;s extreme. But seriously, peace is a chain reaction. If there&#39;s peace in your home, there&#39;s peace in your workplace. Then there&#39;s peace with strangers. And peace with people in other cities. And peace with other states. And peace with other nations. See what I&#39;m saying? World peace starts at home and grows from there.&lt;br /&gt;
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I have the best relationship with S because we calmly talk about EVERYTHING! No matter how small or large. Well, okay, sometimes I won&#39;t bring up the little things with her but again, that&#39;s usually because it&#39;s not worth hashing out. But when there&#39;s a real problem, we sit each other down calmly, like adults and always begin and end with, &quot;I love you more than anything.&quot; It&#39;s a great system. I just wish others would be comfortable with this same system. They don&#39;t have to say that they love each other but calmly discussing the issue at hand is always a great solution and works 99.9% of the time. I just don&#39;t get how others don&#39;t see that...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/feeds/3044400837424584114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/08/lets-just-be-honest.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/3044400837424584114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3806644803753736947/posts/default/3044400837424584114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://homofromtexas.blogspot.com/2011/08/lets-just-be-honest.html' title='Let&#39;s just be honest'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>