9-21-01 - 11:59 p.m.

Talking with Bryan a little bit ago...

"Hey, Laura?"
"Yes?"
"When we first met, how did you know I was gay?"
"Justin introduced you as his boyfriend."
"Oh. Right. Well, I mean, if he had just said I was a friend, could you have told I was gay?"
"Yes."
"How? Am I really that flamboyant?"
"No, my Gaydar's just fucking amazing."
"Wow. Well, okay. But do you think maybe I should tone it down?"
"Tone down your personality? Hell no!"
"You really do swear too much."
"Kiss my ass."
"Kiss mine first."
"Bryan, you don't have an ass."
...courtesy laughter, awkward silence...
"You look like a sexy diva tonight."
"You mean I'm not?"

Completely pointless conversation. Yes.

So the telethon worked for me. My only real complaint was Celine Dion (read: Canadian) singing "God Bless America," a song whose lyrics go something like, "God bless America, my home sweet home." I just would have preferred it if someone like Whitney Houston or even Dolly Parton had done it. It would have been better, for me.

And before you go saying, "Well, Neil Young sang 'Imagine' and he's not American!" let me point out that neither was John Lennon, and the song is not about patriotism. It's about world peace. So there. Nyah.

Bryan was upset that Bruce Springsteen didn't sing "Born In The USA." He hasn't ever read the lyrics to that song.

I think I'm slowly beginning to work my way out of this funk. Key word: slowly. Work has been easy but not boring, and some of the friends I made when I used to work there Back In The Day remember me and we get along.

Last night I had to go give a quick speech at Kel's (my old) school on the importance of extracurricular activities in maintaining a high GPA. It was a last-minute thing, really. My old guidance counselor (the one who told me I'd never stand a chance of getting accepted to Harvard) called me, after receiving my home number from Kellie, and asked me to speak about all the things I had done and how they all paid off at a GATE (Gifted And Talented Education) parent meeting. So I did.

When I arrived, dressed far more casually than the rest of the people in attendance, I was introduced and given a microphone. As I opened my mouth to talk about all the sports, clubs, organizations, and volunteer activities I'd participated in during high school, I froze. I didn't want to glamourize pushing one's limits to the brink of near-insanity. I didn't want to make myself out to be a good example, and I didn't want to tell them I had been accepted to Harvard without explaining that my inability to stay celibate landed me right back home. I just wanted to tell the parents and their children (the students) to do only what made them happy, to take it easy and not freak out and sacrifice their physical and mental health just to get into a good school.

But I didn't. After pausing for several moments, I glanced over at my former counselor, who was nodding as if to say, "Get on with it!" and then to all my former teachers, some of whom were aware of what my high school career was really like, and I lied.

I cleared my throat, smiled my artificial smile, and said, "Extracurricular activities are a must." I spoke for about three minutes about my "positive experiences" in the many things in which I participated, and then came home, feeling like a fraud. Sharon told me my speech was excellent, but she could tell I was faking it. I hope other people could tell that, too.

I'm gonna be changing my layout within the next few minutes, so here's a heads-up.

previous - next