Fantasy Weekend

Leave work early.
Stop at Pavilions on the way home and partake in their special weekend sale on sausages.
Make up a cocktail and have it on the back porch. Something with Root Beer.
Put on my holiday short shorts - they are actually kind of preppy.
Layout polos and matching bottoms for the weekend.
See SEX AND THE CITY 2 four more times (in my fantasy it's amazing).
Have dinner at Cecconis (that's actually happening).
Go to Dance Bitch at Fubar.
Sleep in.
Therapy (again, happening)-- a really great session
Hang out near pools. In my fantasy, my body is exactly where it should be by the 4th of July.
Laugh a lot with the boyfriend.
Brunches.
BBQs.
Hot dogs and potato salad.
Ribs.
Closeness and intimacy.
Ice Cream

Why All the Sudden Blogging?

I'm inbetween projects, so I have more time to spend on here.

No longer clogged, now I blog.

The Single Body

Why is it that when people find loving relationships, they also find love handles?

I've been in a relationship for four and a half years now. When Wes and I had been dating for about a year and a half, I noticed something. I had to start buying size 34 jeans. Listen, I'm not fat by any stretch of the imagination. I'm 5'10" and around 160-165. I look lean. But I was getting to 175 and I looked like I swallowed Frosty the Snowman if Frosty was made out of matzo balls. It was not cute.

I remember calling my friend Brian because Wes and I were going to run the Florence Marathon together. I thought: "Here's my new weight loss plan."

Brian's response: "Why do you need to travel half way around the world and train for a marathon just to lose 15 pounds? Get to the gym!"

Then he offered another important piece of advice: "You've got to get your single body back, man. You can't just let it go. You've got to be training for life, not just eating for love."

It's like some crazy sexist advice that one's grandmother would give to a female child: "Fall in love and get married. But whatever you do, never lose your single body."

Well, I actually did run the marathon with my boyfriend. And we did cross the finish line, hand-in-hand in a Catholic country. And I did cry. And I ran with a single body, which I've worked hard to maintain. I've done P90X, six days a week for three months. I work out with my friend Tim, who's single.

Another piece of advice you'd probably read somewhere:

"To maintain the single body, one must exercise with a single friend."

I guess the main reason we let our single bodies go is that we find comfort in someone else. Obviously, we don't feel like we need to maintain certain appearances after a while. I don't know, I like looking good for my man and I know he likes looking good for me. And we sleep better when we're fit and we eat better and we basically make sure that we're around for each other for a long time.

On the other hand...we love to eat and there are so many restaurants that we need to know about so that we can recommend to our friends. And it's sophisticated to drink.

So it's tough. At the very least, one should learn how to dress around their extra baggage. Camouflage at least works for about 15-20 pounds. After that, diet. And after that...(sigh) exercise.

I guess those cute annoying couples do things like work out together. But how can you check out other people if you're going to the gym at the same time?

Joking!

Besides, it's not fun to check anyone out when you're working out hard. I like to be sweaty and stinky and grungy when I work out. Getting the single body is not pretty.

Epilogue: My friend Brian has now been in a relationship for a couple of years. I wonder if it's as easy to maintain that single body.

Laundry and other Excitements

I was talking with my friend Sarah yesterday about what we did over the weekend. And I guess it's just a sign of getting older or tired that I was a little jealous when she said she did laundry. I used to be the guy who lived in NYC and was out until 4:30 in the morning on Sunday/Monday morning and had to get in three hours sleep before work. And here I am now saying: "Oh my God, that would be so great to spend a whole day just listening to NPR, doing laundry and cooking for a week. Luxury!"

But I guess those are the things I like to do now. I like to get caught up on my Real Housewives and fold laundry. I love going through my refrigerator and looking to see what needs to be cooked up. I love putting on my headphones and listening to my iPod while grocery shopping. I love looking through the circular and making shopping lists. I am so strange.

Am I just turning down the volume? Is that a bad thing? I could go through cookbooks and make new recipes all day. What is that saying about me? Is it saying good things or bad things?

I want to go to Savannah and hang out with Paula Deen. Wouldn't that be kind of fun?

I Dreamed a New Dream

I'm reading the Joe Papp book FREE FOR ALL: JOE PAPP, THE PUBLIC AND THE GREATEST THEATRE STORY EVER TOLD. It's got all of these great stories of The Public Theatre, told in oral history. My favorite part of course is where they cover famous productions from Hair to A Chorus Line to True West and The Normal Heart. I'm not all the way through yet, but I have to say that it's a bit like hearing your parents tell stories as a kid and just imagining what it was like to be there.

And, like everything in my life, it got me thinking. What am I passionate about? Sure, I've got this brilliant brand name education, some good life experience, and a shit load of things I've written. But am I living my passion? Here comes the life crisis, I'm sure you're thinking. That seems to be the theme among friends and my boyfriend. You grow up with dreams and then some of us face reality. Some of us kind of face reality and manage to do what interests them - that's kind of like moving to Orange County from Oklahoma because you want to be in Hollywood. It's "I'm doing what I love" adjacent.

I don't want to be adjacent any more. I want to be smack in the middle. I'm a playwright who should be working towards having more plays produced. I've started in the right direction and I finished two plays at the end of last year. And I'm currently working on a third. I've got a fourth that I'm trying to figure out and an older one we might produce. I'm tired of thinking - I can only be a produced playwright one way or another. Like self-producing is a bad thing. Like it means the work is of lesser quality. Like someone else has to like it in order for it to be good. And that someone else has to be an off-Broadway or regional house.

I'm more interested in the experience of it all. I haven't had that rehearsal room experience in a while. I haven't had those crazy discussions about things I've written with a group of actors and a director. I haven't rushed home after a read-through in a while to do an all night rewrite.

It doesn't mean that I'm abandoning the idea of working in television. It just means that I'm making more room. If I'm going to be struggling, I might as well be passionate about some of the things I'm writing. Because the dream is living that life. It's not making a shitload of money. And at the same time it's not about abandoning the idea that I can write for a living and only write. It's just that I don't want to sacrifice one for the other.

Putting it out there.

I'm Crying A Lot These Days

I don't think I can handle much more of this crying.

WATCHING GLEE:
Kurt and his Dad, the emotions, the letters K-U-R-T in big lit up letters a la GYPSY, the big dramatic solo numbers performed with tears in his eyes.

My boyfriend thought that when he sang, "Everything's Coming Up Hummel!" that he was singing "Everything's Coming Up, Homo!"

That puts a different spin on things.

These are the conversations that happen in my household. Then I start crying in bed, eating my grasshopper mint chocolate chip sandwich from MILK on Beverly Blvd when Kurt's Dad says it's just Kurt's job to be himself. I did the Naomi Campbell on Oprah ugly cry. It was bad.

And then later that night I watched THE BIGGEST LOSER on DVR. And it's that part of the season when they show the remaining five contestants the taped interviews of their formerly fat selves saying things like:

"You don't want to be back here."

"I am so proud of you. Look at how far you've come. You look great!"

"You've changed your life."

It's ridiculous. What happens to the interviews of the people who got kicked off the first week? Do they ever get to see those? It's serious waterworks. That's a great show to just clean out your eyes with. I had pink eye last week and I feel like that was better than a saline rinse. And emotionally cathartic at the same time. All I needed was an enema and I would have felt completely cleansed.

So last night on MODERN FAMILY, I just couldn't help myself because the whole surprise wedding of Phil and Claire...again, just emotional. And these are the comedies.

So I'm doing a lot of crying these days. Over the TV. I guess I just need a release.

Creativity Now

I had pink eye last week.

And a boss who was incredibly paranoid.

So I had an impromptu week off to write. So I did.

I finished a spec of MODERN FAMILY in order to get a comedy job. I wrote 21 pages of a new play I wanted to start. It was a play that got rejected for a commission proposal. So since I did such a thorough job of knowing what the play is going to be, I decided to start writing it. And I've written 27 pages of it so far.

I had the outline for the Modern Family script done. I just needed time. And I got time. I asked the universe to help me. And it did. I know it all sounds weird and creepy. But whatever it is, it resulted in having a week to spend writing. And it set the course for me to keep going. So that's what I'm going to keep doing.

My boyfriend is working on a creative project downstairs.

I had rehearsal this weekend of a short play of mine. That was good. I'm going to finish half of the play by the end of this week, if not before.

Revisions of the spec this week. Ready to send so I can get some general meetings and send the script to people who like me as a writer. Execs and other decision makers.

And I want to do a reading of this new play next month with some friends. Just to hear it. Creativity now! And tomorrow! And the next day! And so on and so on and so on and so on!

Grating Cheese

I'm in the mood to grate some cheese.
I've got a lot on my mind, trying to finish some writing projects, trying to pull my shit together. I think it's time to make some enchiladas tonight.
The sauce has been resting and marinating and getting flavorful in my kitchen.
I made it nice and not spicy for my boyfriend.
It's a good traditional red sauce.
Cheese enchies with olives and green onions.
maybe a nice salad.
some black beans maybe.
just putting it all together.

The ideas tend to come out when I'm doing things like chopping and grating and frying the corn tortillas to soften them up.
I'll put on some Beyonce. Maybe the Madonna Glee Soundtrack in anticipation for tonight.
Then the boyfriend will come home.
I will present him with the enchilada tray, like some sort of Spanish language commercial or something racist on daytime TV.

"Hola, mi amor. Las Enchiladas para ti!"

"Wow. That's beautiful. For me!"

"Si! For you."

BIG SMILES. END OF COMMERCIAL.

My Problem with my Status Update

It's crazy to me when someone I haven't seen in a while starts talking to me about what's been going on in my life, as if they're explaining it to me. And just when it starts to get really annoying, I remember...

Oh, I put that in my status update, didn't I?

"Oh, so you've already seen pictures of my niece."

"Right. I did do flights of bourbon in Louisville with my friends Emily, Kory and Sarah."

"Sorry. I did take the Lord's name in vain last week."

IN some ways it's good to have a status update repeat your status back to you in the form of a friend who reminds you of how busy you are and how much writing you've been doing lately. I've never noticed that I'm an incredibly prolific, wide-ranging, nimble writer before. Seriously. I'm usually really busy freaking out about deadlines and feeling like a loser to realize how productive I'm being. So thank you, status update for that.

And I notice people congratulating me on how productive I am. That's a boost. It makes my life seem more interesting than I find it. And it gives me the opportunity to be witty a lot.

My status update helps me remember how many people in my life are fans of either RuPaul's Drag Race or The Real Housewives of New York City or Glee. Then it reminds me of how many gay people I know.

Lots.

Actually, it doesn't seem like I have a problem with my status update.

Except maybe that it means I don't hear my friends' voices as much as I used to.

Asian Five Way

Tonight I had dinner and drinks with four other Asian friends. Julia, who I know from NYU who's a famous playwright and TV writer, her husband Ed who's also a good friend, my friend Paula who's a TV writer and their friend Florence - who they have in common. Originally I was supposed to get together with Paula, then she mentioned that Florence was in town and wanted to bring her friend Julia - who I happened to know.

It was definitely true of tonight, but is always true of when I hang out with other Asian people, that I am reminded of how Asian I am when I hang with other Asians. The conversation always turns around to food, deals on food, great restaurants and we're always on time. Or early.

I also noticed that we all go out of our way to thank our servers and be nice to our bartenders. Which all people should do anyway, but there's a certain graciousness that I don't always find in people. It's a sweetness.

My boyfriend always complains about how loud I am and I feel quieter when I'm with Asians as well. It's very interesting.

Back to that graciousness and sweetness...it reminds me of all of my Asian cousins and my relatives. I can think of all of my Asian family and reflect on that sweetness. And the wanting to feed everyone or share food and share conversation. I guess it's familiar to me, so it feels like the way that people should act. It really does feel that way.

I hate when people are greedy or territorial over their food. I'm going to eat off your plate and I may or may not ask. But you're welcome to do that to me as well. My Auntie Dolly always said, "Don't be shy" and "there is plenty." I love that sort of generosity. It's an inherent kindness that is so nurturing. It's milky and luxurious...if I had to describe it in a texture or a feel.

With the Latin part of myself, it's all about fire and spice and fragrance. It's the smell of food cooking - onions and carne asada and corn. Those are some of my favorite smells. But I'll save that for another post another time.

It was a nice evening full of chiming in and gathering. I guess that's also very Southern, which is why I get along with my friends from the South so well, I suppose.

What is going to make me feel better?

Frankly, I've been getting massive enjoyment from turning on music in my kitchen and making tacos. Last night was pretty amazing. I had five tacos with homemade turkey taco meat. I've been watching Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution on ABC and telling myself that it's not about eating salads and veg, but it's about making things myself. So it's perfectly okay if I'm making chicken fingers and homemade ketchup and french fries. I'm not buying the processed shit. It's the new health food. Just make it yourself, no matter how much butter, oil, sugar or fat. Just imagine how much MORE fat there would be if you got it through the drive-thru.

Yes, it's not as good as a raw food diet. But it's not as bad as McDonald's every day. I mean, that is what's driving American towards obesity. And I'm not anywhere near obese.

Five tacos? It's not like I finished the entire box of taco shells. That would be sad.

Brain food. That's the other thing I tell myself. It's brain food. And I'm doing A LOT of writing these days. I deserve it. It's a reward. More things I tell myself that just keep me eating.

I'm a taco freak. What can I say? That and fried rice and tostadas are things I like to make for myself when I'm not feeling great. Or when I want something fast. Or when I'm watching a favorite TV show. Or when I'm having a childhood memory.

Okay, so those are the things I like to eat whenever, wherever, however.

Whatever.

Choosing Between My Fabulous Mythical Gay Body and My Fabulous Semi-Factual Gay Wit

I have this constant battle going on in my head of this person I think I am vs. the person I think I could become. It's the:

BATTLE OF THE MYTHICAL GAY BODY VS. MY SEMI-FACTUAL GAY WIT

And it isn't about my body or wit being gay, but it the fact that this is even a topic of blogging IS so gay. I always say that I can't do two things at once - try to get to the gym three days a week and yoga at least once plus two days of running AND write every night. So I make a choice. And while I make that choice, I inevitably make two or three hundred bad choices.

Like last night's Doritos Nachos with Turkey Taco Meat and Cheddar Cheese. Plus tons of Tapatio hot sauce. But wait, I always heard that spicy foods speed up the metabolism. Is that a total myth? Because I base my diet choices on that. And I forgot to mention one thing: I ate this at 11 PM. I don't have a sweet tooth, but I do like to eat.

Update on the body: it's not bad. I've got a little more pooch than I'd like, but it's not protruding. This is another myth I tell myself. As long as it's not protruding, I can fluctuate. As long as I don't have to buy new pants, I'm fine. And the time I did have to buy new pants, I decided to run a marathon. But it's not just about the body, I guess. It's about clarity and it's about setting up routine again. It's about achieving something. I'm tired of coming close to things and not getting them in the rest of my life. I have a passable body. I can go to the beach with my shirt off. I have nice legs. The face is good. But it's ALMOST there - well, almost minus 7-10% more body fat loss and my current weight minus five actual pounds with way more muscle mass.

Yes, I live in West Hollywood and I realize that's a factor. A big factor. A big big factor. The fact that I'm becoming a big factor is a big factor. Gosh, I want an omelette right now.

But I'm writing, so that's good, right? Productive. Productive and good for the mind. It's important to keep the mind active to ward off the Alzheimer's, which is what my grandmother had before she died. So as long as I don't get that or dementia, I should be good.

Another myth...

Knowing What's Best

I love the internet sometimes. When I'm feeling like I need advice or support I put something in my status update and all of a sudden my 566 friends are there for me. I don't feel so lost. You know how people like to talk about putting an intention out into the universe. Well, putting something in a status update is basically putting that intention out x the number of friends you have.

You have to know what's best for you. It's a lesson the universe keeps trying to teach me and I keep working hard to ignore. My therapist reminded me that when I applied to graduate school, no one read my play and I trusted myself completely. And look what it got me: a full ride to NYU.

I have to trust myself. We all have to trust ourselves. We know in our hearts when we are being truthful with ourselves. And we have to act on that more often. We'd be a hell of a lot happier.

I want an agent and I want a career. But I'm not trusting myself. My boyfriend keeps telling me that. And I don't want to listen. Here's someone who has faith in me and I'm not listening. What's the matter with me? I'd rather listen to people who don't really have my best interest in mind. And when someone pays me a complement or says they're impressed with me, I'm skeptical.

I'm not going to do that any more. I had drinks with my friend David last week and he's doing a lot of that. I'm hoping he stops soon. Because I'm sure his life would be better and more fulfilling if he would just stop listening to the voice in his head that tells him he can't or shouldn't or that it will never happen.

I'm musing tonight because I know I have some notes to take down. And I'm procrastinating. But I'm also doing a lot of soul searching. I've given up too much control when I shouldn't. I'm better than that. I think a lot of us are better than we give ourselves credit.

We need to ask ourselves what we want and start doing something to get us there.

Putting Gas in the Tank

Sorry, True Believers, I have been absent from my blog space for about 9 days because I've been in pilot writing mode. My eyes are bloodshot, my lids are heavy and I'm at the office doing my day job. I dressed up though. I'm wearing my favorite shirt from Hawes and Curtis, a London based shirtmaker. And nice dress pants. Looking professional because I just did a very professional thing last night and I finished this script. In a week. So before I get to the task of going through the script and finding the holes, I need to take a moment.

This weekend I have a very important task. I need to fill the tank. The love tank. The creative tank. The fitness tank. Actually, I have about three tanks to fill, I guess.

The love tank. The bf and I are going to grab some movies and some meals this weekend. We had a good week and met with a client of his on some projects he wants to pitch. So when I thought all I had to give was to the pilot, I had even more I needed to give. That was good though. I think I might have an idea ready to pitch come development season. But this weekend needs to be about hanging out.

The creative tank. Going to the art museum, watching movies, eating exciting food, catching up on TV shows.

And the fitness tank. All of this writing means all of this EATING. I've been happily stuffing my face. But now it's time to make up for it and get in shape for the marathon which is staffing season. Meetings, outfits, etc.

Anyway...that's the latest and greatest. More to come. Probably this weekend while I'm filling up the tank.

Make Me A Celebrity Blogger

I have the feeling this part of my blogging history will be referred to as

"Getting his bearings"

I'm not always sure what to write. It's a bit of a potpourri at this point. Maybe I'll land on a style or a format at some point. Right now, it's just whatever comes to mind. Some funny. Some poetic. Some tragic. Some words that are not my own.

But it would be fun to have people listen to what I have to say, right? It's kind of more immediate that the writing the scripts thing, although I'm still doing that of course. It's just getting some thoughts out there, which may not be useful to anyone other than myself.

But some times its nice just to type. It's therapeutic and relaxing. And I promise to try and make it funny as well.

Procrastination

I do not want to do work.
I write and write and write.
just need to remember
it's like breathing.
and if I stop
I will die.
cheerful thought.

Am I Entertaining Enough?

Sometimes I worry that these blogs are just me rambling on about the minutae of my life. I'm not curing cancer here. And I have that childhood thing of needing to be funny and clever and witty and sparkly at all times. Just a question I'm throwing out there.

Trying to give you blogosphere realness.

No More Junk Food

I eat junk food when I'm depressed or overwhelmed. Who doesn't? Probably the healthy people who are at the gym at 5 AM, on the treadmill, watching Headline News. Those people. Healthy in body, feeding the mind, keeping sharp. Not me. At least not today. Feeling a bit mentally lumpy. Intellectually skinny fat. I just need to streamline.

Last night I had fried mozzerella with french dressing. And a frozen pizza I dipped in the french dressing. Ugh. That's not good.

I'm trying to get these writing projects done and it feels like I've been on the treadmill of an aspiring writing career for too long. My legs are burning. I know I need to get back on, but gosh, it just feels like my leg muscles should be developed by now and I should be reading to run that marathon. And run it in great time. Under three hours. But it's only my first one. So maybe under four is more realistic.

What does this metaphor mean? Keep training. Keep your eye on the prize. Do it every day. Don't get caught up in what it means for the rest of the race. Focus on Mile One. Then Two. Then three.

I actually ran a marathon. I should know this. And not as a metaphor. Sorry for the whining. Was feeling a bit alone today.

Putting my running shoes on aka my thinking cap aka my writer's brain. I'm going for a run. Not letting myself get buried in a stack of fried cheese.

Naked Birthing

I guess the straights needed to have their own version of Nude Yoga at some point.

My friend Marc was telling me yesterday that he heard about this phenomenon among pregnant couples called "Naked Birthing." And it's exactly what it sounds like. Women giving birth while naked. What's sexy about that? Answer: Your husband getting naked too so that you feel comfortable...? I understand natural birth, but au naturel birth? That might be too much.

What? Do you think that the baby's going to feel weird with all these people with clothes on? Are you trying to reduce the level of shame? It's not like that dream you have where you show up to school naked and everyone else is wearing clothes. In my own similar dreams, I'm usually just pantsless. Never fully naked. Maybe I'm self-conscious of my pec development even in REM. More therapy on that matter soon.

The way it was described to me is that the father also wants to share in the experience and lay the baby on his bare chest. I guess straight Dad's aren't ashamed of their pec development. What kind of crazy bullshit is this? And what do the doctor's think? And what does this have to do with baby development? I kind of get the birth underwater because it makes the transition from womb to world a bit easier. But this makes no sense.

Then again, I'm gay. I could probably be naked doing just about anything else other than giving birth. Which I can't do anyways. Along with getting married. Another post for another time. :)

My 10 Minute Play is Being Produced

It's funny because I do love validation. But when I put on Facebook that my 10-minute play was being produced by a theatre in San Diego, I got really shy. Like, "Oh, it's no big deal. It's just a 10-minute play. Oh, whatever." What the fuck is wrong with me? If I can't enjoy my success, I'm going to have a pretty miserable life because I intend on being very successful. :)

It just reminds me to focus on removing the negative from my life. I say things that I don't think are negative because I've said them to myself my whole life. I have a 10 minute play that's being produced. Yippee! That's awesome. Period.

God, sometimes I can be such an idiot. And my friends are happy for me and have Facebooked about it. That's sweet.

So for the record, I'm excited. I think it's just the first of many great professional things to happen this year. Now back to writing and pausing "Kell on Earth" in order to write some more. I will be blogging about "Kell on Earth" soon, as well as the Modern Family panel I went to. I've got lots to blog about. I can't wait!

I need a foot rub.