true to yourself

Saturday afternoon, I had my very first table-read. Actually it was more of a couch-and-find-a-seat-anywhere-read, but it was still my first and I anticipated on making it an enjoyable one. Which is why I arrived 20 minutes early to Jeff's house. That and the fact I lose all sense of direction, once I hit the south side of town (if you're a Tucsonan, and thank God very few of you are, then you'll know that driving anywhere south of 12th and Ajo is like eating at Taco Bell: an adventure in the beginning, but a mistake in the end)

After reaching Jeff's house, located on the corner of Crime Spree and Urine, I was surprised to find Melinda already there. She claimed to have come for moral support but Jeff said, it was for the free pizza dinner. As more people began to show up, Melinda introduced me to the rest of the cast, including Steven and Jessica, aka, The Mad Hatter and The Queen of Hearts. Steven and Jessica were, as they put it, "best gal pals" and, like me, they were the only twenty year-olds in the bunch. Everyone else was 25 and over the hill.

STEVEN: So, how'd you get the part of the White Rabbit?
ME: What do you mean?
STEVEN: Well, I heard, Jeff, like, gave some of the parts to people he just met. Like off the street.
ME: Really?
JESSICA: Oh, yeah. It made us so mad, cuz' Steven wanted that part, but like, he didnt get it.
ME: Why?
STEVEN: I dont know why. I mean, it's not like I suck. It was so sad.
JESSICA: Yeah. He would've made one hell of a gay bunny!
STEVEN: So how'd you get it? Sexual favors?
ME: Uh, no. God, no! No, I, um, I heard about the auditions through a friend and I just auditioned. I wasnt looking for a certain part or anything, I just like the story Alice in Wonderland. And I thought it be something cool, you know?
STEVEN: Yeah. I hear you. But whatcha gonna do, huh?

Yes, Steven. What was I going to do? I couldnt very well tell you and Jessica I was an "off the street actor," so I did the next best thing and acted out the role of a lifetime. Myself. Since I had already convinced Steven and Jessica, I was capable of some sort of acting, I had no choice but to lose myself in the role of myself. Except, with this role, I decided I would play myself as "Put-together David." The David that was more cool and more confident, than I could ever be in real life. And it worked! Losing myself, in, well, myself, helped me to read the White Rabbit role with such gusto, that I actually thought I was the White Rabbit, wandering all around Wonderland, whining about lost time and my bitchy boss.

After two couch-and-find-a-seat-anywhere-read run-through's, Jeff decided to call it a night. He was confident, that as actors, we knew our craft and were capable of filming a movie. But as a group, he wasnt so sure. Jeff felt that we needed to bond more, and what better way for college kids to bond, then to get wasted at a keg party?

The party was off the hook! Every alcoholic beverage known to man, was to our disposal: Goldschlager, Hypnotiq, Jägermeister, Cuervo, Tanqueray...it was like visiting the United Nations on a good buzz. Everyone was bonding and having a good time. And even though my sight was slightly blurry, all was well. That's when Steven and Jessica approached me and Melinda.

JESSICA: Do you want like a faster buzz?
ME: How?
STEVEN: With this.
ME: What is it?
MELINDA: Fuckin' A! Are those recreational?!
ME: Recreational?! Dude, you're faded. Shut up.
MELINDA: No, David! For reals! You dont know what they could do to you!
JESSICA: Dude, they're like the bomb!
MELINDA: Yeah, but what is it?
STEVEN: It's Wonderland!
ME: Oh, cool! Let me have one!

I should've known better. The last time I visted Wonderland, it became Wonder-what-the-hell-happened-last-night-land. But I figured, the new cool, confident and put-together David, was a guy, who was up to trying new experiences. Hell, drunk as I was, I was probably up for trying a new sex posistion. That's when Jeff came up to us and asked how we were doing.

JEFF: Hey! What's up you guys?!
MELINDA: Nothing! Just leaving these two druggies.
JEFF: Druggies? What are you talking about?
ME: Nothing, she's just tired.
JEFF: What is she talking about?
STEVEN: These!
JEFF: Oh, man! Where'd you get those?
STEVEN: Why? You want some?!
JEFF: What are they?
ME: Here, have mine. I have to go inside, real quick.
JESSICA: Are you ok, dude?
ME: Yeah...hold on.

Obviously, the cool, confident and put-together David couldnt hold in as much alcohol as I thought he could. Two trips to the porcelain throne later, I passed out, and fell asleep right there on the bathroom floor. The next morning, through my hazy hangover, I heard Melinda on her cell phone, calling people, left and right, telling everyone that filming had been postponed.

ME: What happened?
MELINDA: Jeff was arrested last night for a DUI.
ME: Nuh-uh! Shut up!
MELINDA: Yeah.
ME: What was he under?
MELINDA: David, we were all drinking last night! Plus, you gave him drugs.
ME: Oh, shit!
MELINDA: And when he got pulled over, he didnt have his insurance. He's in major trouble.
ME: Is he ok? Where is he?
MELINDA: He's being held in some jail. His girlfriend called and told me to just call everyone to postpone everything.
ME: Til' when?
MELINDA: I dont know.

And that my blog friends, is how I ended my film career. By giving my film director drugs. I know I didnt put a gun to his head, but handing him the drugs didnt exactly help either. So I guess being an actor isnt my calling. I guess, pretending to be someone you're not, has its own downside, which goes to prove that you should always be honest and true to yourself, no matter what. Except for when they ask for the clothes back. Then it's ok to lie.

playing the part

Shakespeare once said, that all the world's a stage and that all the men and women are merely players. What Shakespeare forgot to mention was that some players are better than others and that some players, actually know what they're doing.

On Wednesday, my friend Madelaine conned and manipulated me into being an usher at the Pima Community College Production of Kiss Me Kate. She was a house manager, low on ushers, and I was a twenty-something with no plans, feeling low.

ME: Ok, so what should I wear? Can I wear jeans?
MADELAINE: No. You have to wear black pants and a white shirt.
ME: Like a button-down?
MADELAINE: Uh-huh.
ME: But I dont have a white button-down. I have a black button-down.
MADELAINE: Oh. Well, I dont know. I think it has to be white. Just wear a white shirt.

Obviously, the house manager and I wear having a wardrobe misunderstanding. I wanted to stand out and showcase my new green jacket, hoping to gain some publicity for my new film, while Madelaine felt it would be better if I blended in with the walls and just handed out pamphlets. Me? An actor? Hand out pamphlets? Tscha! But after some thought, I figured, maybe I could probably learn a thing or two from the actors. And maybe, if they were lucky, I could teach them a thing or two.

That night, at a half hour past seven, after finishing my usher duities, I was introduced to Cole Porter's timeless work of art. The music! The sets! The costumes! It was all very Broadway. And considering the fact it was a Tucson college play, it was beyond good. Good enough to make me feel like I was at home, watching a Broadway play on PBS during pledge week. The actors spoke with authority. They sang with supremacy. They danced with dignity. They were truly actors. But after seeing them take command of the stage, I began to question my own acting abilities. Or actually lack thereof. How could I compare to Kalli Houston or Evan Engle, the two leads? Not that they were Tony Award winning actors, but they did have that certain je nais se quois.

Falling into my new acting job, was just that. It was something I fell into. Not something I worked hard at. I didnt have to submit a head shot or audition, like the rest of the cast. It was like that infamous story of Lana Turner, who was discovered by W.R. Wilkerson, while sipping soda at a cafe across her high school. And although I wasnt around, I've always wondered how well of an actress she was in the beginning. How well, did she perform in front of "the fourth wall"? With my questionable acting ability on my mind, I turned to my friend Madelaine.

MADELAINE: Just watch Mean Girls.
ME: Huh?
MADELAINE: Just watch Mean Girls. Pretend, like you're one of the characters from the movie and just act out their part. Like...like...
ME: Like what?
MADELAINE: Hold on, let me think. Ok. Like, "On Wednesdays we wear pink. And we only wear jeans or track pants on Friday." Like that.
ME: Ok. So what character should I be? Cuz I have to do my table read this Saturday, and now I'm so nervous.
MADELAINE: Well, I dont mean you should be one the characters. I just mean, pretend that you are them. And then act out their lines like they would. Just pretend you are that character, and you'll be that character.
ME: I dont know. Maybe. I just wish I knew what I was doing.
MADELAINE: Don't worry about it. You'll be fine.

just around the corner

When life hands ya lemons, all you can do is make Flaming Lemon and wait to see what awaits for you around the corner. Or so according to my new friends, Jeff and Melinda. But what if what awaits you around the corner is just more lemons? Do you just make more Flaming Lemon? Or do you hope and pray that somehow everything will turn out ok?

Yesterday afternoon, I got out early from my Geo class. I was just getting settled and starting on my second coffee, when Mr. Talbot asked if anyone did last week's assignment. No one raised their hand, and it was mostly because no one showed up last week, when Mr. Talbot was out and had a sub. Except for me. I stayed for the lecture, hoping to get some sorta information on the homework, and it's a good thing I did too. I was the only one who did the assignment, and therefore was granted permission to begin my Rodeo Vacation Weekend early. Who knew being a total geek, had its own reward?

As I made my way out of class and out of the main elevator, I turned the corner...and landed my first role in a student independent film! Jeff, the director, was filming location shots when he filmed me walking around the corner.

JEFF: Excuse me?
ME: Yeah?
JEFF: Hi, my name is Jeff, and I'm filming a movie...
ME: Oh! I'm sorry. I didnt even see you there! Sorry!
JEFF: No, no! No. Um, this is gonna sound kinda weird, but have you ever done any acting?
ME: Oh, I dont do those kind of films. Can they film porn on campus? Who cares?! I cant believe they think I'm porn material!
JEFF: No! Oh, God no! No, nothing like that! I mean actual acting. Like film acting.
ME: Oh, well, no. I cant believe I thought I was porn material.
JEFF: Would you be interested in doing a movie?
ME: Um, I dont know?
JEFF: It's a student film I have to do for my media class. We were gonna be auditioning this weekend, but I dont think we have to anymore. You're like, exactly the kind of person I want!

Can you believe it?! I was the kind of person they wanted! It was beyond awesome, that I went from student to student-actor in a mere matter of minutes. All from just walking around the corner. And since I really didnt have anything else to do, I spent the rest of the afternoon, making on-camera tests, and looking over the script. The story was a modern-day twist on the classic children story, Alice In Wonderland. Only this Wonderland included a love story and, as a director's trademark, all the characters wear something green. Which means, I get free clothes. I know!

And so, after the preliminary filming was done, the crew and I parted ways and I took my new friend, Melinda, aka costume designer, back to her place. It was there, in her pink apartment, that she gave me a green track jacket. Apparently, Alice and her friends all shopped at American Eagle. Melinda and I were in the middle of deciding what to do for dinner, when her phone rang. It was her sister, who had called to tell her, that her niece had fallen off the monkey bars and fractured her wrist. Since she was without ride, I drove Melinda to Tucson Medical Center.

If you were to talk to my entire family and half my friends, they would all agree, that I am not the best driver. I do the brake-gas-brake-gas thing when I'm in a parking lot, which not only pisses off the drivers behind me, but it pisses off my mechanic. I dont do it to annoy, I do it because I'm afraid of going to fast and crashing into a parked car. So if you think about it, I'm really a safe driver. And it was with this state of driving, that I pulled up into TMC, turned the corner and gave an old man in a walker, a heart attack. I didnt hit him, but I guess when he saw me coming at full speed, and then braking, it scared him.

MELINDA: Ohmigod! David! Call 9-1-1!
ME: I cant! I dont have my phone! You call!
MELINDA: Shit! Where's my phone?!
ME: I dont know?! Hurry!
MELINDA: Wait!
ME: What?!
MELINDA: We're at a hospital?
ME: Oh, yeah, huh?

I was so afraid, the man was going to tell the authorities that I was a teenage punk, who too busy bumpin' and grindin' to rap music to watch the old pedistrians. But as it turns out, Mr. Freed was ok and was soon falling under the spell of his medication. I'm not sure if he blames me for his unfortunate accident, since it was already closing time, but I hope to God he doesnt blame me. It's just the story of my life. One minute, I'm finding local fame and fortune, the next, I'm finding, well, fame if my mug gets on the news, but misfortune. And all from just around the corner.

forgive and forget

Three weeks ago, I paid a visit to my dermatologist. I had a nasty patch of dry skin above the right side of my lip, and I thought it might have been a fluke cold sore. Turns out it wasnt. According to my dermatologist, Dr. Brehnan, I've been exfoliating too much. Who knew, having baby-soft skin was too much of a good thing? Dr. Brehnan then tried to prescribe me some sort of topical cream, but I declined. The reason being, the receptionist behind the front counter was one of my mom's church friends and had access to the storage closet where they kept all the free samples. So after Dr. Brehnan wrote the prescription and left the room, I threw it away, and left the doctor's office with a bag full of free samples.

Later on that day, after running around town with errands, I found out Walgreens had called to inform me that my prescription had been filled and was ready for pick-up. Apparently, Dr. Brehnan saw the crumpled and tossed note he wrote me, and called to have my prescription filled. My mother, who heard the messages earlier that day, had gone to Walgreens, picked up my prescription, and billed me $30. Ugh...why couldnt Dr. Brehnan leave well enough alone?

I tried to come up with imaginative ways to get back at Dr. Brehnan for prescribing me $30 topical cream, when that money could have been put to better use. Like at the mall or something. But as my dry spot healed, I got bored with the idea and gave up on the whole revenge thing. That is, until this past Thursday.

As I was putting on my newly prescribed facial cream, UPS knocked on my door. It was a package. 20 packages, to be exact. 20 big, two-arm carrying packages filled with one-inch binders of information, on the acne medication, Isotretinoin. It was addressed to Dr. Brehnan, but it had my address. I tried to explain to the UPS guy, but he refused to take them back. He said I'd have to call UPS and place an order delivery. Was Dr. Brehnan trying to make money off of me? Was he still fuming over my dis to his prescription?

The next day, with 20 boxes of useless acne information stocked and stacked in my room, I went to school. I was in the computer lab, when Ivan approached me. He said, "Hey" and I said, "Hey," and before I knew it, Ivan and I were actually having a mature and adult conversation. He talked as if it was just another Friday. Did he forget about the verbal fight we had about growing up? The fight that was looming over us and staring at us right in the face the entire time we talked? Ivan then invited me to go with him to a comedy tour, Saturday night, hosted by BET. But I told him I wasnt sure, and left, confused and angry. Ivan, who had never been good with apologies, had said, in his own way, "I'm sorry." Ivan was able to forget, but I was unable to forgive. Was I being childish by holding a grudge that could possibly end a friendship?

I was convinced later on, by a few other friends, that maybe going to the comedy tour, wouldnt be such a bad idea. Maybe, after a night of black comedy about how all other races are so funny-looking and crazy, all would be well between me and Ivan.

MARIA: Just go, David. Go and have fun.
ME: I know, but dont you think it'll be weird? I mean, we're gonna be sitting next to each other, laughing the whole time.
MARIA: And what's weird about that?
ME: I dont know. It's just...I've never had an arguement with Ivan before. I mean, I dont think any of us have argued with Ivan. In fact, I didnt even know Ivan could argue. And now I'm gonna be hanging out with him? It's weird.
MARIA: Yeah. But, I mean...just go and have fun. You know Ivan. He's not big on words. And I think if he's inviting you to this thing, and he's gonna pay for it, then I think he's really sorry. It's his way of apologizing.
ME: I guess.
MARIA: The way I see it is that good friends support each other after something bad has happened. Great friends act as if nothing has happened.

Saturday night, I was at the Riverpark Inn, sitting in a double conference room, waiting for the night of 1000 laughs to begin. It was one of those cheap and seedy motels, reserved only for high school parties and hookers. I knew immeaditaely the comedy tour was not hosted by BET. It was in fact hosted by BETS - Black Entertainment Tour of Smiles. How's that for copyrighted infringement?

But nonetheless, the show was hilarious. The racist and politically incorrect comics had the entire audience gasping for air and rolling in the aisles. By the beginning of intermission, my cheeks were hurting from smiling so much and my throat was dry from all the gut-wrenching laughter. So, I went outside to find something to drink. Standing next to the broken soda machine was a man with a coffee/hotdog cart. And standing in front of the coffee/hotdog cart was my old middle school friend, Jennifer.

Back in the day, Jennifer was a straight-A student who had been involved with Model UN and Kiwanni's. But nowadays, the only thing Jennifer was involved in was a guy named Marcus, whom she had met at a New Years Eve party, the year prior. At the time, Marcus was out on probation, but soon found himself back in the big house after threatening a cop. Clearly, this man was a total catch.

JENNIFER: And, so anyways, this is our first official Valentine's.
ME: Oh. Well, congratualtions.
JENNIFER: Yeah. And this was his gift to me.
ME: What was?
JENNIFER: This. The BET-thing.
ME: Oh.
JENNIFER: What do you mean, "Oh?"
ME: Huh?
JENNIFER: What do you mean, "Oh?"
ME: Nothing.
JENNIFER: Please! David, I know your "Oh's." And this "Oh" is filled with disproval.
ME: No. It's nothing like that. It's just...well, you said you've been dating this guy, Marcus, for a year right?
JENNIFER: Right.
ME: And that technically this is your first Valentine's together, since he was in jail for the last one? Right?
JENNIFER: Yeah.
ME: So, in theory, he had a whole year to come up with the perfect Valentine's, and this is what he chose?

I didnt mean to imply Marcus had choosen poorly. I just thought that a year of togetherness should be celebrated with more pizazz than a $20 comedy tour ticket. And apparently so did Jennifer. She needed to hear, outloud, what the little voice in her head had been telling her about Marcus, for the past year.

Jennifer and Marcus spent the rest of the night arguing in the motel parking lot and missed part two of the comedy show. And because Jennifer had chosen not to listen to the little voice in her head that warned her about Marcus, she missed out on what could have been a meaningful and loving relationship. Ok, so maybe it was bordering delusional, but the point is, if Jennifer had talked to Marcus about the problems she was having, in the beginning, then maybe things between them could have been better.

It was then and there, right before Honey Rose's comedy routine, that I decided to forgive Ivan. I decided that holding a grudge against my friend wasnt something I wanted to invest time in. After all, wasnt it Ivan's rude remarks, that made me realize how not to give up on my dreams, but to keep on pursuing them, no matter how hard the obstacle? And if forgiving was in my near future, it meant there would be no room for revenge. Which means, I'll probably be at my dermatologist in the next hour or so, hand delivering the 20 big, two-arm carrying packages filled with one-inch binders of information, on the acne medication, Isotretinoin.

a dream is a wish, your friends hate

Sometimes there is nothing harder in life than being happy for somebody else. Like lottery winners. Or the girl you sat next to in high school choir that sang like a dying parakeet, who now makes a successful living as a fashion model. It's not so much that I'm jealous for said choir classmate, it's more along the lines of, if they can do it, why cant I? What's stopping me from reaching my goals? What's keeping me from my dreams?

As I sat in class on Tuesday I wondered if Corrie was thinking the same thing. She certainly looked like she was, since she stared at me throughout the entire class. Was she seriously waiting for me to shower her with fresh-cut roses and tacky nylar balloons? After reading and listening to all the advice I recieved from blog-friends and blog-enemies alike, about the Corrie Conundrum, I came up with my own strategy.

CORRIE: Hey what happened?
ME: Huh?
CORRIE: Why didnt you call?
ME: Was I supposed to?
CORRIE: Yeah. Didnt you get my note?
ME: Your note? What note?
CORRIE: My note. I left you a note with that lady behind the desk.
ME: No. She didnt give me anything.
CORRIE: Oh.
ME: Yeah. So. Anyways, I guess I'll just talk to you later.
CORRIE: Well, I...
ME: Ok, bye!

No one was the wiser, and no one really got hurt, which in all reality, is the perfect outcome to a disasterous situation. I was just at the door, when my teacher, Ms. Toller called out and asked if I could please stay behind. On the one hand, I was thankful I had a reason to ignore Corrie, but on the other, I wondered why my journalism teacher wanted to talk to just me and only me. As it turns out, Ms. Toller, who used to be an editor for Good Housekeeping, recieved a letter from a friend in New York who told her about an upcoming program for fashion-minded students.

MS. TYLER: ...and I think with your writing skills, you could really benefit from this experience.
ME: Really?
MS. TYLER: Yes. You said something about wanting to write for an entertainment magazine, right?
ME: Uh, yeah.
MS. TYLER: Well, this program will help lead you into the right direction. Here's the form. Please do consider it.

I couldnt believe that Ms. Tyler, had not only enjoyed my class writings, but she saw me succeeding in this three credit course, that would cost me only $14,000. Too bad she couldnt see and tell me where that tuition money was coming from. I left the room floating on cloud nine, with a skip in my step and a toothy smile that would put the Joker to shame. It was the same way I felt when Johanna Edwards left me a comment which, I know it may sound childish, I printed and framed.

But as the day progressed, my goofy grin began to fade. I got an email from an editor at Slate Magazine asking if I would be interested in an internship for the up-coming summer, and if so, I was to send in three clips, a resume, and a cover letter. Besides my out-dated high school newspaper clippings from two years ago, I hadnt written a news-worthy article in like, forever. Except for that one time I wrote an article for a summer program about my high school counselor who posed nude in an OVER 50 magazine, and then later went on Oprah twice. Plus, having had four jobs in the past year alone, wasnt exactly screaming "stable" or "loyal."

It wasnt until I was done with all my classes, that I decided to go and visit my friend Ivan, hoping for some pearls of wisdom, some sage advice, and maybe a well-worded resume. But as it turns out, all Ivan could offer was crushing words.

IVAN: David. Dont you get it? You're trying to live a fantasy life. You need to seriously grow up.
ME: What are you talking about?
IVAN: You need to grow up. You need to stop dreaming about living in New York or wherever as a famous writer or a famous journalist. You need to get back to reality buddy, and get a real job. Move out of your folks home. Start paying bills and stuff.
ME: Why?
IVAN: Because. You gonna live with your parents forever?
ME: No.
IVAN: Well, then? When are you gonna move out? When are you gonna get your own place and start living like an adult?

The harsh reality of my dreams never coming true hit me. Somewhere, in the back of my head, I knew it was a possibility, but having my friend tell me face to face, made that possibilty much more real.

IVAN: David, you're 20!
ME: And?
IVAN: I'm 19, and I have a good-paying job, my own place, and my own family. I pay my own bills and do you know why? Because it's my responsibilty. If I dont do it, no one else is gonna take care of me. I cant just wait around for some dream to come true. You gotta wake up and realize that.
ME: You know what, Ivan? I'm sorry, you had to grow up faster than you wanted to. I'm sorry your life sucks and that you were given more responsibilites than you can handle. But dont hate on me. I'm not the one that fooled around and had to grow up overnight.
IVAN: So what? You're gonna wait to have a kid and then grow up?
ME: Just because I dont fall into your definition of grown up, doesnt mean I'm not, ok?
IVAN: Whatever David.
ME: I'm still young and I have my whole life waiting to be lived. While you just lost the next 18 years of your life.
IVAN: Fuck you.
ME: Fuck you.

I left Ivan, wondering why he chose to rain on my parade. I was looking for the stock best friend response of "You'll submit your stuff, and by the weekend you'll be a famous millionaire writer," but instead, all I got was a slap across the face. Or as Ivan put it, tough love. True, I do have goals and dreams, some of which may be a bit far-fetched, but I wasnt living in a fantasy world. Or was I? Is believing in the possibility that dreams might come true a waste of time? In a society like ours, with it's pace and pressures, isnt it important to remember a simpler time when the best thing in life was just hanging out, listening to CD's and having fun with your friends? When the world was yours and the possibilties were endless? At what age do you have to be to realize that the Peter Pan syndrome is no longer an option and that dreams are something your heart should stop making? At what age, do you have to grow up?

stupid cupid, dont post-it on me

As if Cupid didnt make love more complicated than it already is, you'll never guess what happened to me today.

The other week, while I was out with an eye-infection, I missed a major test, which explained my pressence at the Student Testing Lab Center so early this gruesome morning (ok, so it was almost 11 o'clock, but on a Monday, that's still pretty early for someone like me).

As I walked into the testing center, Corrie, the not-so-hot girl, was walking out. We both froze. Ever since last week, on that eventful day when I learned the meaning of no, things have been really uncomfortable between us. Kinda like when you see your best friend wearing a brown belt and black shoes.

CORRIE: Hi.
ME: Hey.
CORRIE: So...you here to take a test?
ME: Uh, yeah.
CORRIE: Cool. Cool.
ME: Yeah. You?
CORRIE: Uh, no. I'm just...just leaving.
ME: Cool.
CORRIE: Cool.
ME: Ok, well, I'll see you later.
CORRIE: Yeah. Bye.

You could cut the sexual tension between us with a knife. Yeah. Right. I zoned Corrie out of mind and focused all my orange mocha frappuccino-energy into my test. That is, until I handed my test in to the secretary.

SECRETARY: Oh, just a moment! I have something for you!
ME: Me?
SECRETARY: Yes! You! Your friend left you something.
ME: My friend?
SECRETARY: Yes. Now, where did I put it?

She glanced around her desk which was covered by two Whataburger wrappers, a large carton of french fries, several ketchup packages and a can of diet coke. I wondered how someone so messy could be in charge of handling paperwork. My question was soon answered as I noticed the colorful Post-it's all over her computer screen. She then made a grab for one of them and handed it to me.

SECRETARY: Here you go!
ME: Thanks.

It was a note from Corrie that read:

Now, obviously that wasnt her real number, but I cant post it, because I know some of you would actually call it and crank call (yes, Ivan, I'm talking to you). I've heard of breaking up via Post-it, but never have I heard of asking out via Post-it. Was Corrie seriously asking me what I was doing February 14, Valentine's Day, aka the most romantic day of the year?! I dont think so.

The only thing now is, do I call and tell her something along the lines of "Thanks, but no thanks," or do I just not call at all? And if I dont call, what do I say to her in class tomorrow? It's like Shakespeare once said, "Oh, Cupid, doest thou not not know if I am pricked with love's sweet arrow, I too shall bleed?" Ok, so I made it up, but the Ye Olde English twist, totally fits.

my fair label

Labels are weird. When you meet someone, you automatically categorize them into certain labels: looks...occupation...sexual orientation...religion. And with those labels come certain unalienable traits, like fashionista, hard-ass, flirty, or even lover. Or do they?

Wednesday night, I arrived at Tucson Baptist Church, 15 minutes prior to the "jubilee" that was to be bestoyed upon me and was greeted by a beauty-potential girl, who wore a lime-green corduroy skirt. She was the kind of girl, where if you took off her glasses and scrunchie, she would instantly go from geek to chic, like a cheesey teen comedy.

CORDUROY GIRL: Hi! Can I help you?
ME: Um. Yeah. I'm here for a Jesus class.
CORDUROY GIRL: A what?
ME: Uh, Bible study.
CORDUROY GIRL: Oh. Ok. I'm Cathleen. Welcome! And you are?
ME: I'm David.
CATHLEEN: Hi, David.
ME: Hi.

It was weird. Depite Cathleen's big smile and warm greeting, I didnt feel all that welcome. After I made my lame "Jesus class" joke, I felt like Cathleen was judging me up and down as a desperate loser trying to fit in with the rest of the Bible-carrying group. We walked down to the basement in silence. It was really uncomfortable, following this girl down the stairs, not knowing what waited for me at the other end. Not ready to face the Bible group, I decided to make a quick check in the bathroom. If I was gonna be durrounded by fashion victims, I decided I may as well give them somethimg they can aspire to.

I pushed opened the bathroom door, full blast. What I saw next completely stunned me. There, sitting on a porcelain throne was some dude, with his jeans at his ankles, shaking what had to be the smallest penis I've ever seen! I dont know if he was talking a shit or just peeing and shaking it off with his thumb and forefinger, but I freaked.

ME: I'm so sorry!
SMALL DUDE: SHUT THE DOOR!
ME: I know! Sorry!
SMALL DUDE: SHUT THE DOOR!
ME: I am.
SMALL DUDE: SHUT THE DOOR!

The door took forever to shut. It was the kind of door where it had springy hinges and closed all by itself, but slowly. I had to actually pull on the handle to make it go faster. As soon as it closed I ran down the stairs and burst out laughing. Who takes a shit in a public place with an unlocked door?! Tim saw me and asked me why I was laughing so hard. When I told him what had happened, he stood there with a frozen face.

He did not find my story funny at all. A few kids who overheard laughed, but that's all. Tim then went to go talk to the youth pastor and that's when the real action started. Apparently Small Dude's name was Josh and he had been in trouble with the youth group for acting "homosexual" (i.e. slappin' ass, winking and blowing air kisses, and rubbing his nipples to all the guys. If he was in highschool, he would have been labeled "class clown" and not "gay").

Me walking in on him was the last straw in the coffin. The nail that broke a camel's back. When Josh came down, the youth pastor took him to the side and asked him politely to leave. He was not to return until he could control his homosexual behavior. I felt bad for the dude and I couldnt believe these people who were supposed to be filled with Christ's love had cast their friend aside. If a friend is in trouble, dont you help them out instead of leaving them to figure it all out by themselves?

I decided to write the whole thing off as a bad experience and couldnt wait to tell all my friends all about it. Including, Charlotte, Carrie, Silly, and The Wife of Dingus. Thanks for your prayers!


The next day, I decided to go and visit my friend Maria at her new tutoring job at Mansfield Middle School. Maria had been seeing a guy, named Roy from school, and in all honesty, I kinda wanted to see the lucky fellow who had captivated her heart.

MARIA: David! Hi!
ME: Hey!
MARIA: Hey...what are you doing here?
ME: Nothing. I just came by to say hi.
MARIA: Oh.
ME:Yeah. That and see this Roy guy.
MARIA: Oh. Well. I dont think right now is a good time.
ME: Why?
MARIA: Well, I'm supposed to go to this engineering meeting with him right now.
ME: Ok? That's cool. We'll all go together.
MARIA: Yeah. But these are actual college kids.

I couldnt believe what my best friend was telling me. Sure, we attended different colleges, but just because they werent in the same zip code didnt mean one was better than the other. The classes we took were different, but that's only because she was majoring in bio-cemistry while I was trying to major in communications. I was just about to call Maria on her rude comment, when all of a sudden a guy came up behind her and put his hands over her eyes.

MARIA: Hey!
A GUY: Hey!
MARIA: Hi, Roy.
ROY: Hey! Hey dude.
ME: Hey.
MARIA: Roy, this is David. David, Roy.
ME: Hey.
ROY: Hey. So are you ready?
MARIA: Um, yeah.
ROY: Ok. Hey! Do you wanna come?
ME: Go where?
ROY: I have this engineer meeting. Maria comes with me every Thursday.
ME: Oh, cool.
ROY: Yeah, do you wanna come?
ME: Uh, sure. Maria? Is that ok?
MARIA: Uh, yeah.

Roy, a person who was a total and complete stranger had welcomed me to his group of friends, while my best friend had tried to exclude me. Why?

The rest of the evening went pretty well and I actually did have fun. No one cared what school I went to and that's probably because they all thought I went to their school, but still. I was totally at home. I taught a girl the proper way to pronounce "Givenchy" and I told a guy he could buy discount Express and Abercrombie & Fitch jeans at Marshalls. It was great. And at the same time, weird. These people were surprisingly warm and fun to be around. Unlike the Bible group and my friend Maria, which, I still do not understand. Or maybe it's just me?

the meaning of no

Why is it so hard to understand, that no, means no? During the 80's, when cheesey rock music and teased hair was at it's highest, Nancy Reagan introduced a campaign against the use of drugs which was known as, "Just Say No." Who'da thunk, those very words would be so hard to comprehend?

Today was my first day back to school (can you believe it took almost a week for my eye infection to heal? Which means, I'll probably never wear another pair of colored contacts again. Which is cool, cuz I think I wanna go in the way of Lisa Loeb and don a pair of funky square glasses, so it's all good...wow, this is the longest parenthesis I've ever had). It was also the first day that I would see Corrie and her heaving milky-white bosoms again (see, how I totally worked that in there Miss Jay?!).

ME: What happened last week?
CORRIE: You mean the homework?
ME: No. I mean, the whole Smiley's thing.
CORRIE: Oh, that. Yeah, I lost your number.
ME: You lost it? Didn't you put it into your phone?
CORRIE: Yeah, but my phone book list got erased. It was so weird.

Yeah. It was weird. I was going to give Corrie the benefit of the doubt, but I figured, if what she were saying were true, wouldnt she come up to me and tell me she lost my number, rather than me having to go and ask what had happened? But then again, sometimes some things just cant be explained. And since I'm a big believer in the whole, "seeing-isn't-believing-but-believing-is-seeing" philosphy, I thought I'd give Corrie a second chance.

ME: So, did you already take the pictures for the thing? Dear God, it's me David. Please dont make me sound so weird. Amen.
CORRIE: Um, no. No. Not yet.

ME: Oh...so did you still wanna do it? Hey, God, it's me again. Please just give me this one thing and I will dedicate myself completely to thee. Ok, maybe not completely, because I do have a life, but I promise not to change the channel when the starving kids come on my TV.
CORRIE: I dont know. I mean, well, it's cuz I wont be able to this week. Or next. I have a whole lot of projects coming up, and so I think I'm just going to give the assignment to someone else to do.
ME: Oh. Uh, God, what is she talking about? Give the assignment to someone else? Yeah. Right. Doesnt she know that if a teacher gives you an assignment, you have to complete it and not just hand it to whomever?

Why was Corrie acting so weird? Why had she given me false hope of a possible semi-date? Was the girl who I had dubbed "not hot" blowing me off? My suspicions were confirmed as I sat back down in my seat, and my friend Alex said something to me, that I thought was only supposed to be for girls.

ALEX: She's not that into you.
ME: Huh?
ALEX: She's not that into you.
ME: How do you know?
ALEX: Dude, please. I watch Oprah. I was a Sex and the City fan for six years. I can so tell these things.
ME: Whatever, Carrie Bradshaw.
ALEX: Ok, well, dont believe me. But dont you think if she was into you, she would have dropped everything just to hang out with you? Didnt you pick up on her hints that she wasnt interested? No means no.

Alex had a point. In her own subtle (and stupid) way, I guess Corrie had said, "No." I was just too blind to realize it. Which was odd, because if I wasnt blinded by her looks, then what was I blinded by?

Class ended, and I was still trying to figure out what had blinded me. I soon found myself, standing in front of a bulletin bored, waiting for my next class, when all of a sudden, some random kid started talking to me.

RANDOM KID: So...just checking out the postings, huh?
ME: Oh, uh, yeah.
RANDOM KID: Name's Tim.
ME: Oh, hi.
TIM: I think we're in the same Geo class.
ME: Oh, maybe. I dont really pay attention.
TIM: Yeah? Thats cool. I've been meaning to come up and talk to you.
ME: Really?
TIM: Yeah. You seem like a cool dude.
ME: Oh. Thanks.
TIM: Yeah. You're exactly the kind of guy we could use in our group.
ME: Your group?
TIM: Yeah. My Bible study group.

I'm not exactly sure why, but for some reason, my soul is the number one soul in Tucson to convert. Ever since I turned 13, countless Christians, Jehovah Witneses, Buddahists, cult members, and even a few Dungeons & Dragons nerds, have tried to convert my soul for the better good. And each time, I'm at a loss for words. I dont wanna appear rude to the people who spent so long rehearsing their "Conversion Speech" because I know if it was me, I would want someone to hear me say it, you know? Besides, how do you tell one of God's chosen people, no means no?

ME: Uh, I dont know...
TIM: It's just once a week. We meet every Wednesday. We're not into fire and brimstone.
ME: Oh. Well thats...good?
TIM: We're into loving Jesus.
ME: Yeah, well, see the thing is I have homework and all this other stuff and I just dont think I'll have the time.
TIM: You know that Satan is just around the corner waiting to devour your soul and make you his follower?
ME: What?!
TIM: Do you want to be spend all eternity buring in hellfire?
ME: Ok...
TIM: Dont you want to find Jesus?
ME: Well, I'm already a Christian, so I dont think I have to find Jesus anymore...
TIM: Really? Well, praise the Lord!
ME: Yeah.
TIM: Well, then come on! Share the jubilee! The students that pray together, stay together!
ME: No, I dont think so. I dont have the time.
TIM: God always has time for you. What's one hour of your time to devout to him?

Somehow Corrie was able to look deep in her dark, icy, cold heart and tell me, no, so why wasnt I? And then it hit me. I was acting exactly like Corrie. I was totally blowing this kid off with all my excuses. And like me, he wasnt getting the hint or the point. I felt sorry for him, because if Tim was this pathetic, I can only imagine how Corrie must have seen me. Ew. No matter how well dressed or accessorized I am, there is just no way to pull off a pathetic look. And so this Wednesday, I will be at the bottom of a church basement, studying the Bible. I wonder how one dresses for the occassion. Dress shirt and tie or regular normal clothes? I just hope and pray the topic of discussion will be about the word "no". Lord knows, I need help in that area.

blind love

nce upon a time, in a college classroom, far, far away, two aspiring journalists met and became good friends. They bonded over coffee and the unforunate incident of their friend Shecky. And thanks to their teacher's assignment of interviewing one another, David and Corrie got to know intimate details about one another within 15 minutes.

One warm spring day, during their journalism class, they had a fire drill. Unlike the other students, these two stayed behind to gather their belongings. Once they reached the outside, they discovered they were the only two wearing backpacks. Apparently, all the other students (as well as the teachers) thought that if they left their belongings inside and the school actually did catch on fire, the school would reimburse them for their "lost valuables".

CORRIE: Ugh...dont I feel stupid?
ME: Why?
CORRIE: I have like $10,000 dollars worth of bling in my bag.
ME: Shut up Usher! You think you're at Donald Trump University, or what?
CORRIE: Stupid...
ME: Stupid...

We laughed and decided that if the building was to burn down, why not just go out for coffee?

CORRIE: ...and so anyways, I'm doing this article for the school paper.
ME: Oh, you joined The Aztec Press staff?
CORRIE: No. Not yet. In one of my classes, I have to write a feature story on this place called Smiley's. You ever been?
ME: To Smiley's? No...I dont think so. What is it?
CORRIE: It's a hookah lounge.
ME: A hookah-what?
CORRIE: A hookah lounge. You do know what that is, do you?
ME: Uh...that thing the catepillar from Alice In Wonderland had?
CORRIE: Yes! And well anyways, I'm doing an article on Smiley's and I need to take pictures of college kids having a good time there. Are you interested in coming with me tonight?

I was. I'm not entirally sure what it is about Corrie, but for some reason, ever since the first time we met, I cant get her out of my head. She's not exactly a hottie or even Girls Gone Wild material, but she does posess a certian type of innocent sweetness that is attractive. And so I figured, what the hell? Besides, when a girl invites you out, you dont exactly say "no," you know? But then all hope of a possible semi-date was lost when she told me she was bringing her cousin and a few friends and that I should do the same as well. I was a little dissapointed, but I figured I'd still go and have a good time. I also figured it would make for a good blog-story. Corrie took down my number and promised to call with further details.

Later on that day, after I got home and took out my cornflower blue contacts, I noticed my eye was a little red. Nothing bad, just a little irritated. I left it as be and predeeded to search for the perfect hookah-lounge ensemble. Throughout the entire search, my eye continued to itch and itch and itch. I didnt even give it a second thought as I continued to rub it. About an hour later, my right eye was completely red. And as the minutes ticked away, it worsened. Soon, I was unable to open my eye as a crust formed around it and closed it tight. And unless a pig flew over a frozen hell, there was no way I was going to go out.

Across town, Corrie must have felt the same thing, because she did not call. Totally stood me and my red eye up. I mean, sure I wasnt planning to go out, looking as I looked, but wasnt I supposed to make that decision? Fustrated at how the night's events turned out, I headed to bed, hoping and praying a night of good rest would cure my irritable eye.

It didnt. I woke up the next day with an even redder eye that throobed with pain when exposed to light. I was going blind. My life was coming to an end as the slow and painful realization of never being able to see again, began to sink in. Never again would I see a clear blue sky or a red robin. On the other hand, if I couldnt see, then what harm would another mocha, double-fudge, chocolate brownine do? If I cant see, what's the point of looking hot? Right?

My friend Lizzie said I was being over-dramatic by my small eye infection and confirmed her theory when she stopped by my house, later on that day.

LIZZIE: Hi, Zsa Zsa Gabor? Is David home?
ME: Shut up!
LIZZIE: Whats with the big sunglasses and your blanket bonnet?
ME: Uh, it's to sheild my eyes. Duh.
LIZZIE: You look like one of those old Hollywood ladies.
ME: Whatever.

I was blind for a minute and already I was getting flack for my fashion choices. Lizzie had come over to return a book she had borrowed...6 months ago (I wasnt too mad at her since I have other friends, not mentioning names...VERO, who have stuff of mine from forever with no intentions of returning...). I told her of my non-date disaster and what she said made me really think.

LIZZIE: Maybe God wants you to be blind.
ME: That's dumb. Why would he want me to be blind? How else am I supposed to apprieciate his creations, duh?!
LIZZIE: Well, have you noticed everytime you talk about Corrie, you make it a point to point out she is not hot.
ME: No, I dont!
LIZZIE: Whatever. Maybe God wants you to be blind, so you can like Corrie for who she is, and not what she looks like. Maybe your supposed to look beyond her looks.
ME: Hmmm.
LIZZIE: Cuz isnt love supposed to be blind? Look at that blind girl from Fantastic 4 and The Thing. He was butt-ugly and nobody wanted to be with him. Except for the blind girl. She never knew what he looked like, but she still fell in love. And they both lived...