Too Funky?

This morning, on the radio, I heard George Michael's 'Too Funky,' and it placed me on a time machine I had almost forgotten existed.

I remember listening to this CASSETTE tape on my walkman on the plane ride en route to visit one of my favorite people in the world, my friend, Julie, who was world-wise and cool and gorgeous and a sorority sister and a recent graduate of our college. And shortly after graduation, she was living in the big city -- a place so close to me, but a place I had only visited twice: once as a senior in high school, and once as a bright-eyed Christmas break visitor with Julie and her family the year prior.

But this shiny muggy July in 1992 is how I will always prefer to think about New York City: steamy summertime, the fashionable Julie Taylor smoking Marlboro Lights, drinking Malibu and diet cokes at the Whiskey with the waitresses in cat suits, and seeing Falsettoland with Joe Ceriello who showed up to the theatre wearing jean shorts. I also remember being so fucking excited because I had the inaugural issue of OUT Magazine, which was, like, super classy for a young gay kid who was still relegated to reading dirty personals in the back of the Penny Saver.

my god, I feel old.  Thank you, Julie, for making me feel like the coolest kid in the whole world. thank you, a billion times over.

Xoxoxoxo

Lost and Found

Today, when I made my daily pilgrimage to Dig Inn, for a standard, but healthy lunch that only sets me back $10.50, and gives me an additional 1200 steps for my FitBit obsession, I saw something that struck me.

There was a young-ish man standing at the take-out counter, and I paid attention to him because I thought he might be waiting for food, just like I was. 

He was a little chubby, and had reddish hair and a shirt that was ill-fitting, but I felt his embarrassment, although I couldn't peg what it was about him that needed to feel embarrassed.

As I checked to make sure he was taken care of, a worker came from the back and said, 'I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have anything.' 

For a second, I wondered if this early 20-something was trying to get a job application for this fast casual chain restaurant, and I felt the shame for him.

He walked away, and he made some weird mark on my brain. I thanked the worker for my pre-made, pre-ordered lunch (exactly the same as every other day: broiled chicken, summer couscous, and broccoli and garlic -- calorie count of 780, more or less), and I turned to walk out of the crowded store.

As I got to the door, I saw 20-something saying 'Thank you' to a single woman sitting at a table, reading a book, near the front door, and he had a very youthful velcroed  blue and white wallet in his hand. Apparently, Red Headed 20-Something had misplaced his outdated wallet in the store, and it had been left right where he left it -- at the table near the door where Single Reading Lady was  enjoying whatever it was she was reading.

20-something Red Head had a little flush to his cheeks, and I felt so happy for him. So relieved for him. And so encouraged for so many reasons:

1. No one had taken Red Head's silly wallet.

2. Reading Lady got to have human contact with someone other than her cat at home.

3. Most importantly, that feeling of dread 20-Something likely had was gone. And he could continue on with his day. Whatever those plans might be. But I thought about how anxious he probably was...worrying about canceling credit cards and insurance cards and maybe cash in there.

And Red Head may have gone back to an office and was able to focus on a cure for some horrible disease. Or he was able to create a really clever dating account for a personals website. Or he just was going to be able to sleep better tonight because his world was put right at 2:15 pm this afternoon.

And that is why I will never forget that 20-Something Red Head's slightly pudgy face, and all of the relief it spread to me in that fleeting moment.

Take Two

It makes life a lot easier when you've had dreams and just kind of left them on the shelf.

Case in point:

As part of a challenge, this morning I went to start up a blog to help me with my ability to 'find my voice,' and -- lo and behold -- I already had a blog template, and a few stray entries ready to go.

And while my age has creeped up there: I am no longer the "36 year old" I referenced in the blog's header (I am now the firmly entrenched in 44 year old space), most of the rest is the same.

I am still working on my goals.
I am still trying to find my voice.
I am still challenging myself to understand why I'm doing this.
I am now working to stop the narrative I've grown to love and retell with gusto.

So, I am rebooting this.

Version Drew.0.  Or Version Drew.2? Or Drew.3?

Whatever it is, let's see how this goes.

It's getting old putting it all out there on Facebook and expecting to have people read it.

I'm going to do this for myself, and see what happens next.

#Reboot
#TimeFlies
#TheComingStorm!

It Can Happen To You

I remember being younger -- like in my late teens and early 20s -- and seeing people who were overweight.

And I remember thinking, "How did they let themselves get like that?"

And this last week -- after a lot of thinking (it's not like it snuck up on me, literally) -- I realized I had become one of those people.

So, it's time to take it all back.

No big announcement. I'm not joining Weight Watchers. I'm not getting a lap band.

I'm just making changes. Slowly. Quietly.

And I'll keep you informed.

I'm going to need all the luck and determination I can get.

Facebook

I have deliberately avoided Facebook for many years now, mostly because -- when it started -- it was only for college students, and I was already well past my college years.

So why did I decide that yesterday was the day to open Pandora's Box?

I started at 2:00 pm yesterday and became so obsessive, that I checked it when I woke up to pee in the middle of the night.

I definitely have something wrong with me. And I also feel a fierce sense of competition to wrack up 'friends' online, even though I can't keep in touch with all of the real-life friends I already have.

I never should have done it.

Giggling Again For No Reason

For whatever reason, music doesn't always have the same effect on me as it did in the past.

Sometimes -- and it's not all that often -- a song will seep into my head the way it used to when I was younger...

When I was a freshman in college, Tears for Fears released THE SEEDS OF LOVE CD, and I was literally obsessed. I remember sitting in the lecture halls of Syracuse University, and rather than pay attention to the professors, I would scrawl the lyrics to the various songs from the CD and relive the music over and over and over again.

And yes, I still have those notebooks (Why? I don't know), but it takes me right back there. It's the Fall of 1989. I'm trying to find myself, trying to fit in, trying to understand who I was then. And there is something so passionate about those lyrics and how the music stuck with me. I couldn't wait to get back to my dorm room and listen to the song again.

As I hit my late 30s, it just doesn't seem to happen like that anymore.

That is, it doesn't USUALLY happen.

But when Alanis Morrisette released her new CD, I downloaded it -- more out of obligation than anything else -- and I was pleasantly surprised. A lot of good songs, but one in particular really stood out to me -- and has that same effect on me that TFF had back in the day...

GIGGLING AGAIN FOR NO REASON.

I don't know what it is about this song -- is it the weird hypnotically techno beat to it (reminiscent of Madonna's RAY OF LIGHT?)? Is it Alanis's oddly catchy new-agey/self-empowering lyrics? Is it the notion of running away and driving up the 5 and leaving everyone clamouring for answers -- reclaiming one's life? Is it just that rare intersection of music/life hitting where a song can break through all of the clutter in my life and remind me how important music can be?

Who knows? But I can't get it out of my head.

I think I'm going to go write the lyrics on my notebook and remember, fondly, a more innocent time in my life.

Shhhh. I'm a Secret.

The old adage, if a tree falls in the forest and no one's there to hear it, will it make a sound?, is about to get tested.

I'm not telling anyone I'm blogging again.

And since I wasn't smart enough to save and transfer my old blog accounts from MTV when I left the company, I no longer have access to the good old 'Drew's So-Called Life' or 'Insecurities Aloud' blogs I wrote back in the day.

It all seems kind of useless, really. I'm about 10 years late to the party on this, but it might inspire me to do some random writing. And who knows? Maybe I'll challenge myself to do a few things I've always meant to do...

Such as, you ask?

* Lose a lot of weight without telling anyone I'm going to do it
* Finally re-read THE COMING STORM and adapt it into a screenplay. (I don't even mean to sell it, for God's sake...just to prove that I can fucking do it...and be done with it...it literally haunts me every week or so...)
* Create that pilot for EULOGY that I think is so genius, as well...
* Just provide myself with a place that is all me...and no one else...no need to please anyone else -- and perhaps, enlighten myself with my (soon to be) 37 year old self later down the road.

OK. This is weird. It's like speaking into an echo chamber, really.

But let's see what happens.