Kelly's Khronicles
Monday, August 26, 2013
Have You Ever Referenced Brandy So Much It Makes You Cry?
Now I do enjoy daydreaming. I mean, I know everyone says the life of a bookkeeper/accountant is filled with excitement and champagne and fabulous experiences. Oh wait that's right, no one has said that. It's your typical 9-5 job with a few perks here and there. But I've always thought I was destined for much more -- to do something more exciting. When I was a kid I used to watch a whole episode of Power Rangers and (no joke) would re-enact the entire episode out on my front lawn. Sure, I got some stares and SURE I got, well, a lot of stares but in that 22-min commercial free moment I got to have a sense of what it was like to be someone different, someone exciting, someone with a stereotypical costume color and a cool Transformers-like vehicle. Wait, does that mean I would have been a BROWN Ranger? Uhhhh I take that back. I think I'll leave those dreams to the professionals. Brown really isn't a flattering color choice unless you're playing in mud. So what do I dream about nowadays? I dream of a fabulous vacation with my boo, maybe a little more pocket change, and a job where people know how to properly leave me alone unless otherwise needed. The American Dream right?
One other thing I've changed in the past year is my eating habits. With the boyfriend's help I've become vegan/vegetarian/pescatarian/cheatarian. I think I still walk a fine line. Not that I necessarily eat meat regularly (at least not in the conventional sense) but I do enjoy my sushis and calamaris, and every extra from The Little Mermaid. It is funny how you can manipulate vegetarian food to still have a lot of flavor and taste just as good, if not better, than meat-centric dishes. But as I've learned, you can still find ways to cheat around that and eat junk even though it's technically vegetarian. I guess I'll have to do some more reading up on that. I can't help that I love food. I was originally going to title this blog "I Will Remember Food". One, because I will eventually have to give it up the old habits and take on new ones. And two, because I'll be feeling as sad and guilty from eating those foods as I do from watching a Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercial.
I know I complain about life and work, but it's not all bad. I'm happy in my relationship and that's what keeps me going. Because I've learned a few life lessons from Brandy. Firstly, I don't wanna be down... not no 'mo at least. Secondly, I also would like to mildly resurrect my persona as a rap artist. Thirdly, we're all human. Not sure what I mean by that exactly but I felt this needed a third reason. So I'll keep on dreaming and hopefully turn that into a reality because as Brandy would say, never say never... unless it involves drinking because let's be honest alcohol is my best friend. For now I think I'll also resurrect this blog (though sadly not under the guise of my rap persona). I think I'll leave the rap personas to the real professionals too... like Miley Cyrus.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Love Is The Key.... But Have a Locksmith Ready Just In Case
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
...I Guess The Rest Was Still Unwritten...
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Because We Need a Resolution
Sunday, November 6, 2011
My Life Would Suck Without a Kelly Clarkson Album
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Love Don't Live Here Anymore... or Sanity... or Serenity
You hear that? That’s the sound of my “new” laptop. And by “new” I mean “recently acquired”. My roomie made me a pretty good offer since he had been looking for a new one himself. Naturally I jumped at the opportunity, well for a few reasons. One, being that it’s hard having to do homework at work either during my lunch or trying to do other assignments. Multi-tasking was never in my list of skill sets so I won’t even attempt that. Ironically, on every resume I have submitted in my life I always put that I’m a great multi-tasker. I guess it’s true if by that I mean I am both a great and horrible liar. If that’s the case, then I need not go further. But speaking of roomies, recently I’ve been pondering what my next topic for this blog would be. Finding inspiration in my life is rather difficult. It may come as a shocker but I don’t exactly lead a very glamorous life. My schedule these days consists of: work, school, and gym (on odd days and by odd I mean when I somehow manage to get up before 5 am). So whenever I do find something interesting to write about I feel I have to strike while the iron’s hot… which leads me to the subject of roommates. Now raise your hand if you’ve ever had the fortune (or misfortune, depending on how well you relate to the upcoming stories) of having a roommate situation? First off, consider yourself a failure because I never said “Simon Says”. So you lose. But in my experience, it’s always been a coin toss. I’ve had different types of roommates - family, friends, exes, strangers, weirdos - and each can have a different outcome. I’ll get into the current one a little later but this should be pretty interesting. This should be about as exciting as a letter from your landlord; you’ll probably put off reading it for a while because you know nothing good will come from this.
Well if you can believe it or not, I used to be pretty stupid. I know, how times have changed. But I would say between the age of 18 - probably yesterday I didn’t make the greatest of choices. One that comes to mind was right around my 19th birthday. Without getting into detail about my relationship with my dad since that horse has been beaten quite a bit (and I’m sick of the calls from PETA) I’ll just say that the year after I graduated high school was when I “officially” came out, parade and all. So as you can imagine, living with him wasn’t exactly sunshine and lollipops. It was more like rain clouds and black licorice. But the subsequent months after my closet departure, I found it to be a pain in the ass living situation. NO, this story is not about THAT experience. As I mentioned in a previous blog, all the “dad” stories will be summed up in a later post. But about a month before I turned 19 I began dating this guy, Nick. We met off the internet (of course) and struck up a nice exchange before taking things to the next level which, if you’re gay, obviously means becoming more serious after just one month. Funny how you don’t get a manual or pamphlet when you first come out. I almost feel that the nearest LGBT center should get some sort of signal a la Batman and have a messenger deliver a package with all necessary “gay survival” items. What it should include is information on how NOT to move quickly in a relationship, because no good can happen. Sure, Nick was funny and sweet. Attractive? Meh. I think I gravitated towards him for some sense of security moreso than actual feelings. Hey, I’m just being honest here. No sense in lying in my own blog, especially since I did mention how horrible of a liar I am. But anyway, a few weeks into dating him my dad and I got into one of our usual spats and I felt I was reaching my breaking point. I needed out, and I needed it quick! So, with nowhere else to turn, I talked Nick into letting me move in with him. Now, if you need help with the math on this, at this point we had been dating a good two weeks… which is obviously the equivalent of our gay 6 months. Boy, was I in for a treat. I was now moving into an apartment with ONE homophobe to now an apartment with a straight couple, and a super hefty straight guy (aka Nick’s best friend). ON a side note, if these were the only friends he had then I should have just evicted myself at that point. First off, Nick and his friend were fucken slobs! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly the most organized person myself but these guys were something else. They often “cooked” Hamburger Helper and would leave dishes in the sink for at least a few days, building up with grease and lawrd knows whatever else is in Hamburger Helper. Secondly, the best friend smoked like crazy so his butts were everywhere (and thankfully THOSE butts cause homeboy did not know how to say no to food). Thirdly, the straight couple was weird as hell. For example, the boyfriend was a total douche who could easily play a part in Batman with how good a two face he had. The girlfriend (I’m shuddering as I’m thinking of this), was literally the size of Wee-man from Jackass (there was even photo evidence of this claim) and she sure LOVED to walk around topless. I guess in her mind she lived with two gay guys who would never do a double take as she passed down the hall and with another guy who was too busy either playing video games or waiting for the McRib to come back. Let me just be frank with you honey: EVEN if I were straight there is no way I would want to stare at your lopsided tits. I was under the impression that you worked at Rainforest CafĂ©, not at the airport misguiding traffic with your headlights. It didn’t take very long for Nick and I to stop dating (one month into my moving) and although he and I kept a fairly amicable friendship (in other words, he didn’t kick me out) situations in the apartment worsened. The couple was, for some reason, out to get me and get me out. I don’t know why… I guess it had to do with my not being on the lease (even though I did pay rent… yeah I don’t get it either). I think this is the point in my life where the black woman in me came out because if I developed anything in that time it was sass. But after several arguments they eventually decided to move out. Phew! Thank gawd my retinas could heal themselves once again…. Well, that is until the best friend’s mom moved in. And NO, I’m not implying that I saw her headlights (shuddering again). Nick moved into the room we shared with his best friend, whereas I took the other empty room he had once occupied. This was perfect for me but boy were those guys disgusting. I remember walking in their room once to get something and had to build a float just to get through the sea of soda cans and fast food bags (I’m not even exaggerating one bit). And the guy’s mom was just as atrocious. Heavy smoker and brought in her three cats. I don’t know what would have been worse - inhaling the smoke fumes or inhaling the scent of white trash. Needless to say, I eventually gave up on them too and forced myself out of the lease from which I eventually signed onto. My lungs and my sanity were intact once again.
Fast forward a few years later and I find myself in downtown Los Angeles. I had always dreamt of living/working there and was happy to have found the right opportunity. I worked as both a personal and accounting assistant for this restaurant/bar management company and enjoyed my stay there. Unfortunately, my living situation was far from great. After living with my sister for a few months and feeling the need to get out on my own, I decided to look around and had a “friend” offer to let me crash with him for a while. And by “friend” I don’t mean THAT. The few months I was there was a nightmare enough so let’s not throw any more to that please. So in an act of desperation (I think we have a theme going here) I decided to say yes and moved in quickly with him. Here’s the thing… it was a studio. With one bed. Which we would both be sharing. Yeah… again, no good can come from that. Now since I want to hide this person’s identity let’s just call him Randy. Yes, his “legal” name WAS Randy but as of late he’s developed a few other personalities so I don’t think any of them would mind right now. Honestly, I didn’t know Randy all that well. I met him through my best friend and had occasionally hung out with him and his previous boyfriend. Aside from that, I had only hung out with him one-on-one maybe but a handful of times? I don’t know, it’s a memory I’d soon come to block out. But BOY was he a weird one. Little did I know that this was probably the beginning of his mental breakdown (I’m not even exaggerating about this one either) and I was beginning to question my choices in living situations. First off, he was a major control freak. He liked telling other people what to do and how they should live their lives. I think I would rather take life lessons from Dr. Kevorkian than this clown. The other thing, is that he had an incredibly odd diet. Or rather, he had an odd way of justifying his reasons for eating certain meals. For example, he LOVED El Pollo Loco; loved their chicken taquitos. He tried convincing me that it was a great source of protein and overall an extremely healthy choice, all while dunking it in some sauce. Yeah, again I would rather take diet lessons from Gabourey Sidibe. His other obsession came in chocolate form - let me go ahead and clarify myself before that image gets ugly. He LOVED chocolate milk. During his “I’m getting back on track with the running” phase (all of two weeks) he would always gulp down a glass of chocolate milk. Why? You guessed right (just play along that you actually made an attempt), he said it was for protein. What in Willy Wonka hell is he talking about? This guy was as delusional as Lindsay Lohan, and with an extra side of crazy for your dipping pleasure. In my head I imagine his take on a “protein shake” would consist of chocolate milk, two grilled chicken breasts, a cup of ranch dressing, and some Nestle Quik powder because after all he is a growing boy (not vertically).
So now if your trusty remote is still working let’s fast forward a bit more to the present day. As much as I would LOVE to talk about the last living situation I had with the two geezers I think I already discussed that in a previous blog. So just open a new tab on your browser, read that snippet, and come back. It’ll make the timeline that much more interesting, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be waiting for you. So after moving out of THAT retirement home I found a great opportunity with my friend down in Hillcrest (and you know that’s all I needed to hear to say “yes”). To be honest, everything about it seemed great – the location, the closeness of the bars and restaurants, and hello the GAYS. What more could another gay want? Too good to be true? Of course. So my friend has been dating this guy for a few months and around the time I moved in the boyfriend did as well. My friend is in his 30s and the guy is in his early 20s so what could go wrong there? Now don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with age differences. After all I am quite fond of older men, especially as of late. But one thing I stay away from is anyone under the age of 25. Trust me; I used to be under 25 like a year ago so I know better to stay away from that age group. Not to overgeneralize, but my belief is that someone in that range is still figuring themselves out and usually isn’t very immature: case in point. So when I signed up to move in I asked all the necessary questions but apparently I forgot to ask about the boyfriend which, as it turns out, what would the biggest problem. Again, I don’t have anything PERSONALLY against the boyfriend except that these two argue every night (again I’m not even exaggerating one bit). Literally, every single night since I moved in they have argued and yelled and caused up some sort of drama. Over what you ask? Beats me, but personally I don’t like drama and I certainly don’t like arguing. They argue at odd hours of the night and it’s kept me up. Why don’t I say anything? Well why don’t you stop asking me so many questions, how’s that? But yesterday I did finally discuss the matter with them as I finally was fed up with it. I can be patient in some regard but not for this. I kept quiet and let them try to sort out their ish but when I get involved, and when I lose sleep over this, that is when I get involved. One thing I don’t enjoy is losing sleep because I get real cranky, and trust me no one wants a cranky queen getting up in your face. And as you can imagine, this BS is only exacerbated even more when alcohol is involved. Over the weekend they got drunk and almost got into a physical altercation. Okay look… I know that I signed up to move to Hillcrest (aka gaytown, aka “the other Queens”) but this is too much. Don’t even get me started on my friend’s friend – someone who likes to stir up drama and act catty to get a rise out of people, and someone who flirts with EVERYBODY and their dads. If this is what people think of gay men then it’s pretty obvious why we can’t get married. Actually with all this arguing it seems like they ARE married and share his and his drama (personally I’d settle for towels). I don’t get how two people can argue so goddamn much. At some point you’d think they would say “okay this is a problem that we need to confront” but NOPE not even close. The other day when they got physical, the very next day they acted as though nothing had happened. Clearly some of the crazy I experienced in LA trickled down into SD… or maybe it’s a gay thing? Well whatever it is I hope they put an end to it. Well yesterday I finally brought it up and am hoping that things will be much quieter going forward. And yes I used the Ross Geller method.
Yes I have moved a lot. I probably have other stories to share (of course I do) but these were the most fun to write about. I think eventually I will look into getting my own place again. The only bitch I like dealing with in the a.m. and p.m. is myself. But for now I’ll try to steer clear of the crazies. So if you ever come to my place don’t expect to find cigarettes, chocolate milk, lotion, or drama. Other than that, mi casa es tu casa…. whatever that means. Crazy Mexicans and their words. Oh and I am not exaggerating one bit about any of this if that wasn't already clear. Oh and you can go ahead and start laughing now.... Simon says.
Monday, October 24, 2011
There's No Greater Power than the Power of Goodbye... or the power of Madonna
*yawn* ugh here I am again. Boy, am I wiped out. The past week sure took a lot out of me. I realized many things as I reached another birth anniversary. But mostly that I can’ t get away with acting younger. LOOKING younger, yes – and I plan to ride that out for as long as possible. But I had an awesome time. I had a very nice dinner last Wednesday that turned into a night I won’t soon forget… or remember for that matter. The funny thing is, I had planned it out for that day because I wanted to avoid going out and staying out later. But nonetheless, once I get a sip of alcohol all bets are off. You know how gays are with our alcohol, it’s like blood to a vampire – it nourishes us and helps keep us up till the wee hours of the night. Then Friday I went out with a “friend” and FINALLY got to meet up with an old friend from HS. What’s funny is that we both live in San Diego and in the 2 ½ years I’ve been here I have not seen her. But I figured what better occasion than to see each other and catch up. Unfortunately she was working so I couldn’t talk as much as I wanted but nonetheless it was great seeing her and hopefully we can get together again soon. And next time I’ll remember to take a picture since that seems to always slip my mind. How the hell am I expecting to make memories if I don’t snap a picture at that moment? Lawrd knows my memory is about as great as my coordination (see previous blogs) so I need to get better at it. And then obviously this past weekend I was up in LA and got both hang with my mom and my friends, obviously not together. I don’t know how my mom would feel about being around a bunch of gays and trannies. The only great part about it is that she would most likely out-drink me. I’ve seen that woman drink and TRUST me, so I feel I’m letting her down because I can’t quite keep up… at least not anymore. The great thing about getting older is that you definitely get a little wiser…. Or rather you SHOULD. I can’t say everyone gets smarter as they get older but from my own personal experience I feel as though I’m a different person from even a year ago. I’ve fallen, gotten back up, and unfortunately that’s not a metaphor – I really have horrible coordination. What kind of Libra am I if I lack balance? But I wanted to share a few life lessons I’ve come across the past year, in hopes that I can continue on the path towards discovering myself.
So if you’ve been following my Facebook posts (how could you not when there’s a new entry every hour?), you would have seen me discuss letting go of the past. Well, it has come to my attention that I haven’t exactly moved on from the past and have been carrying that baggage with me like a piece of toilet paper on my heel. Ladies and lady-boys, you know what I’m talking about. Well, it’s been tough. I can’t go into detail just yet but it all basically centers around one person – my father. For those who don’t know, I’ve been estranged from him for over 3 years. With everything I went through as a kid, I just had to learn how to live my life happily even if it meant cutting people out. In our last conversation I told him that my being gay was not a phase, it wasn’t a mistake. My hair choices on the other hand, yes those are horrible phases and even worse mistakes but this was not the case. And as a side note if you ever see me post or even mention the words “hair dye” please feel free to buzz my hair off in my sleep. I can’ t expose the world to that type of tragedy ever again. Getting back to the topic, I think I psyched myself into believing that that was my way of “moving on”. 3+ years later and I’m still dealing with the same issues. More recently, I’ve been feeling the skeleton pop out of my closet… and perfect, just in time for Halloween! Nothing spooks me more than the ghosts of Halloweens past. In the past week I had two separate conversations with friends where the subject of my dad came up and you could’ve called me Pandora because my box opened wide (not a euphemism). The first conversation was difficult and I found myself sharing some very personal information that FEW people know about. But it felt great, and again I thought that was enough. But LATER that evening when the conversation came up with my other friend I just broke down. Note to self: if you’re going to go drinking make sure you’re not going to be an emotional wreck. Thankfully I opted out of wearing my mascara that night otherwise I would have would have been sporting the raccoon look well before Halloween. But after both those incidents I realized I needed to learn to let go. My 26th birthday was coming up and if I was going to move into a new year it would have to be a complete change. And just like a new season, I had to ditch the old heels and learn how to walk in a new pair… particularly with a shorter heel since again I am extremely clumsy (I hope you are getting the point of this, I shouldn’t be allowed to walk drunkenly let alone soberly). So I decided that now was the time for saying goodbye. I don’t think I would want to have a conversation with my dad over this. From my experience with him, I never seem to get my point through and all conversations lead to heated arguments. And since heat and humidity to a disservice to my hair I couldn’t risk taking that route and not be allowed to express myself fully. So soon, very soon, I will post an “open letter” to my Dad. It was going to be posted before this blog but honestly it’s not an easy thing for me to share. Don’t get me wrong, it will go up but this is my chance to say EVERYTHING to him that I have wanted to say for years. If you do the math, my parents divorced when I was 8, I first came out to my family around 14, then again at 18, and stopped talking to him 3ish years ago. So there’s about a good span of half my life worth of emotions that will be released. Unlike my blogs, I won’t just write and edit. I have to open up the wound and let it bleed out if I’m ever going to heal. Trust me; I am a much different person today than I was a year ago. I am much happier, and feel like I have a lot to appreciate. And if I am only going to get better then this is something I have to do. Goodbye to the past and hello to my future.
After visiting my friend Sarah on my birthday, I realized I need to make more time to see friends and family. I had not seen her since we graduated which was back in 2003. I’ll go ahead and do the math for you… that’s 8 years. I had a good time catching up with her, albeit a brief conversation since she was working but it was still nice. And even spending time with my mother this past weekend was very refreshing. Going along with what I mentioned in paragraph above, there are reasons why I have held back from making time for other people. I sometimes feel as though I could be a better son, brother, and friend; instead, I’m a bitter one. Like I said, I’ve held onto a lot of feelings from my past that have hindered my growth as a person. In regards to this, the truth is that I fear loneliness. I fear rejection. I fear the idea of getting close to anyone, because in my heart I just feel I’m going to be disappointed. With my dad, I tried several times to build a relationship and to become closer with one another but unfortunately every time always had the same result: I put in the work, while he just waits to get what he wants. I take that through every relationship I’ve had since. I keep a distance just close enough so that we can remain in contact, but far enough so that I don’t have to make myself so vulnerable. Is this a great approach? No. Well, not always; there are always exceptions to these things. I mean I do have some friends with whom I’m very close and share many details of my life but they are very few. I have realized now just how unhappy that has made me. You have no idea how much I want to reach out and talk to someone and get to know them. In my head the fear sets in that as soon as I expose myself to them (no, not like that) that they will leave me or hurt me. I’ve had it happen with my dad and other people whom I felt were good friends… boy was I wrong. I know I shouldn’t feel this way about everybody, but that’s the point I’m making. Is that now that I’m getting older and seeing the damage this is doing then I know what I need to do to fix it. I need to carve out time to see my family, call my friends, and build stronger relationships because the same problems that exist with opening up and getting closer with them has also trickled into my dating life. I have pushed so many people away because the thought of them seeing the real me is a scary thing. I mean if you can imagine me without any make up on that’d be a scary thing to see every morning (also in time for Halloween if you need costume ideas), so you know most people don’t see my vulnerable side. I just want to get to a point where I am 100% happy and content with my life and with those I surround myself with. My dad never learned to do that and has lived his life miserably and alone and that is something I hope to never experience for myself.
So as a final thought, I am happy at 26 – but probably about 60%. How did I come up with that number you ask? Well I work in Accounting, so numbers fascinate me. Plus I looked at something that had the number “60” so inspiration isn’t exactly flowing through me. What do you want from me? It’s too early. And yes I realize it’s the afternoon but after the week/end I’ve had I deserve a whole day to recover. I hope technology gets to a point where it can automatically transcribe our thoughts into writing without having to type. I’m lazy, give me a break. Besides then I could finally get away from the Kardashian-esque blog name and move into something more fun, like the “Bob Loblaw Law-less Law Blog” (pat yourself if you get the reference). But I am looking forward to the future. Once I learn to finally stop looking in the rear-view mirror I can learn to drive into the sunset. Of course, I need an actual car to accomplish this so maybe this isn’t the best analogy. But basically I mean that I can let go of the things that have held me back from being the person I really am and will be (and no her name is not Kelly, thanks).
Additionally, I just wanted to say that I never expect anyone to read these blogs but some of y’all have mentioned that you do. For that I say thank you, and sorry that you don’t have anything better to do. No really, go read a book. I kid, but thanks for the support and hope that I can bring a smile to your day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go back to making faces at my computer screen while holding onto the same paperwork I did 3 hours ago to make it look as though I’m working hard today. Don’t judge me. I get paid to look this good, that’s all that matters.