Big city dreams for a small-city boy

{The extent of exitement on Friday}
18 October 2003 @ 2:47 PM

BGM: "Space-Age Love Song" by No Motiv
Wanting: excitement
Wearing: midnight blue ON tribal tattoo tee, grey WF1 shorts

OMG, was yesterday ever a productive day for me. I got a plethora of things done in a span of like, three hours that I would never humanly conceive of doing. I feel pretty damn proud of myself at this moment, if you ask me.

Anyway, after finishing up my previous entry, I showered and whisked my merry self over to the insanely far east side of town to pick up my check at work. The drive, miraculously enough, seemed very short and not nearly as stressful as it would usually seem. I was thoroughly pleased with that. As I collected my exchange for hours of gruelling labor, I gave a lot of thought as to why I decided to get rid of my direct deposit. It wasn't that that was making me have all those money problems a while back; it was my blasted debit card. Besides, direct deposit or no, I still ended up putting all of my funds into my checking account as it is, having it would just save me the trip of going to work on my day off. Given that bit of self-convincing, I decided to go see HR to see if I could get that started again so that I wouldn't have to see this well of torture when I needn't have to. Unfortunately, the personnel that took care of that gets to leave early on Fridays. Lucky her.

Money note in hand, about two-ish in the afternoon, I decide that I should once and for all change back my address on my driver's license and get another picture *shudders at the thought of his other one*

Not knowing the full-fledged vile-ness that is the DMV (or MVD as it's called here in back-asswards AZ) on a Friday, I casually traipse in looking pretty gayed out (button-up shirt, trek cargos and flip-flops). It was as I was awaiting my turn in the semi-lengthy line at the front that I had the misfortune to be stuck with a smarmy, unhappy pill of an old man. The line stood right in between the two service areas, so there were people crossing both ways as their numbers are called. There were two instances when there were a couple of guys crossing by, who even said 'excuse me,' and the old man was all like, 'You butthead' as they walked past. After the second one, I was so ready to just turn around and bitchslap him. Granted, it IS the DMV and bad attitudes abound, but if someone isn't even DOING anything to you, and are in fact being POLITE, then you should have absolute NO reason to be all grumpy about it.

Soon, I rid myself of the filth. Not without silently wishing he'd just roll over and die. As I sat down, I prepared myself for the indeterminable wait. I called directory assistance for the number to my insurance company (now in retrospect, I have no idea why). Anyway, the guy assisting me was not only inept (how hard is it to understand the word 'Dairyland?'), but he was rude and the bastard connected me to a wrong number as I asked to be transfered to a supervisor! I was in complete and utter rage! It was then that I realized, that I have no cause for anger; I find that I've done that with a few of the more perturbed callers myself. It was then that I decided against ever being unecessarily rude to them again. But, I still feel that the guy was not in the position to be such a jerky rude prick.

Finally, once I had my numbers and did some calling, I got most of what I wanted and my turn came up. Only a scant matter of minutes later, I walked out of there with a new, more streamlined picture of myself and my address reverted back to my grandmother's.

It was probably about four or so, and from there, I cruised on over to the bank. On the way, I discovered that I was short 15 very-much needed hours. I was floored. At first I blamed myself for taking all of that early leave at work, but then I realized that I got Sunday off. Even though I made a resolve to not do that anymore, I also just realized that I had two more Sundays off to deal with. My next paycheck is so not going to be nice.

At the bank, I was greeted by the emaciated and very effete bank manager Andy. I figured I might as well let him take care of me. Through him, I changed my account address info. Upon getting that done, I stood in the long line of people waiting to get their pittance. After a while, and right before I was to go, I was then sent to a back room where there were some other tellers waiting for me. It was a really lucky turn too, because I was greeted by a super hunky, yet clean shaven (they all are) teller named Kelly. I *heart* unisex-named guys.

After that, I went over to the title company that my insurance company does business through. Keep in mind, that this was located right off the second most Mexican-infused street in Tucson (12th Ave, south 6th is the first) and about 103% of the people there of south-of-the-border descent. Needless to say, that my impaired, but somewhat functional Spanish wouldn't be enough to convey my very-complex-even-in-English situation. Luckily, after a long wait, I was able to get someone to assist me and I even got a chance to thoroughly explain myself to them in English. The situation is this, the company financing my car tells me that I need a declaration letter from my insurance company stating that my car has never gone without coverage. To do that, I need to talk to the local agents and get them to fax over said declaration letter. I did arrive at the place after five, so the fax probably won't be received until Monday morning. Upon which, I told them specifically that I want to be contacted to be let known that it has gone through. From there, and most likely after work, I will have to either call in my payment or do it online, either way it'll probably be an extremely close call. *Does the holy trinity to make sure it all goes well*.

Ahh... well from there, the day kinda dwindled and came to a close. Granted, it wasn't the most exciting way I could've spent my precious waking hours, but at least it was 100% more productive than today. I'm so incredibly bored out of my mind and I am about to run out the door screaming down the street if I don't find something to do.

PS: It's been brought to my attention (from several sources) that my entries tend to be on the epic side. Tis true that I can rival the lengthyness of say, Homer in my scripting. The truth is though, I can't for the life of me be brief in describing stuff. I always need to paint it as much as I can to what I actually experienced. And besides, if the topic that I'm writing about isn't all that exciting to begin with, might as well make SEEM that way. That is all.

PPS: A note to Arizona, it's frickin' autumn in normal parts of the country! I'm still wearing shorts and have the cooler and fan in my room running, what gives??

PPPS: I changed the optional field thingie at the beginning of the entry. I figure if I already have Imood, then why do I need to put how I feel on there twice? Also, I had to go back and change them all from my older entries. I hope that it was all worth it.

~A (I saw your eyes, and you made me cry)

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{I think this line is mostly filler}
17 October 2003 @ 1:26 PM

BGM: "Walk Through the Fire" - BTVS (Once More With Feeling) cast
Wanting: love, money and sex, in no particular order
Wearing: white Hanes v-neck, light blue FTLs w/argyle pattern

Have I expressed my utter contempt for this computer lately? I had a prettyful and witty entry all ready to post and then it froze on me. I'm a tad irritated, not in the least by that, but because last night upon trying to allieviate Mina's stereo system, the ineffectual bastards at [insert mega-huge electronics store whose colors are yellow and black] need my since-destroyed debit card to do anything about it.

Oh well, I'm sure I can find my spare somewhere around here, or at least a bank statement attesting to the fact that such card once existed.

Well, I need to be off, I slept a good 12 hours and I now need to go get my check at work, cash it and make some damaging phone calls to pay my bills.

Not without a Friday 5, though:

1. What's the best gift you've ever received?
My truck that my parents bought for me two years ago.

2. What's the worst?
A shower-timer that my brother had gotten for free.

3. What do you want for Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa this year?
See my wishlist.

4. As far as Holiday shopping goes, do you buy throughout the year or do it last-minute?
I'm always kinda on the lookout for stuff, but I manage to get a majority of the stuff in right at the last minute.

5. How do you plan to spend your weekend?
Running around, paying bills. Hopefully getting some fun in.

~A (We'll see it through, it's what we're always here to do)

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{Rage and K-Mart}
15 October 2003 @ 12:42 AM

BGM: "Karma Police" by Radiohead
Wanting: K-Mart boy
Wearing: maroon ON polo-style shirt, dark blue Stanford boxer-briefs

*NOTE: I feel like I should warn in advance for the crude language that I will use in this entry. I am usually one that will try to find more eloquent ways of expressing emotions, but today's events seemed to call for the sting of such strong language. Thank you.

ARRGH! So, somewhere in the course of time that lapsed between my previous venting and now, there have been quite a few interesting developments. I'll get right to them, as I hope to get to bed early tonight (well, as early as one can make it at this hour).

First, as I was still reeling and trying like mad to drown out the horrid squeals from Alexis and Abby by turning on the super-loud-even-when-on-the-lowest-setting fan and by bumping some loud rock music. All of these actions however, were in truly desperate vain, as there seems to be no humanly instrument that will rid me of having to put up with them, even behind several walls.

Finally, I got fed up, changed out of my work clothes, and left the house as quickly as I could. I tried to be cordial to my grandma who was in the living room trying to be accommodating to her ill-begoten grandchildren, but when I heard Alexis (the older of the two) spit out a snarky epithet that their obviously hypocritical father told them, I just flashed them a glare that could burn someone alive and stormed on out of there. I couldn't control my rage and I slammed the heavy iron screen door.

As I was making my way down the seemingly endless walk from the front door to my car, Uncle Adrian has the sheer oblivious nerve to try and accost me about "just what the hell that was all about." I play dumb and tell him that the screen door was an accident all the while trying to get into my car and zoom off and not look back. Then; as if he felt like he had to push the matter further; he says, "you should have some more respect" or some bullshit like that. Inside, I so snapped. In my mind, I visualized myself calling him a fucking hypocrite and that he's not in a position to give me that shit. I would've used that as a gateway to a tirade on how he and Tina (his ex-wife, an equally slothful parent, no doubt) have some fucking nerve to add these two little hellions into the already on-going trainwreck that is life in the Torres household. *Sighs* But, for whatever reasons probably known only best to me at the time, I didn't. I just simply said a dismissive goodbye and sped off.

*Takes a deep breath as he realizes that recounting that got him riled up again*

Anyway, afterwards I had a considerably better time. Dorian and I went to the U of A's mini theatre and saw Pirates of the Caribbean. Though there was uncomfortable seating and the movie ran at a seemingly slower pace than before, it was still the perfect way for me to escape the problems that I left unattended.

After the movie had finished, I found that there was a new voice message waiting for me on my phone. It was from Ivan. Basically, he asked me what was wrong. I assume most certainly that he called to enquire about that because he heard a story from either grandma or Adrian. Hopefully not the latter. But the message was so endearing, in short, he told me that we could always confide in each other and if I do have a problem of some sort, that I can always come to him. You have no idea how it made me feel. All of these years of me saying the exact same thing to him and hoping that one day he could reverse it and be as outreaching and as compassionate to me in return finally came true in that minute-long message he said. I got back to him of course, and I told him to inform grandma that I was so sorry to be so rude in her presence and that I didn't mean to cause her any distress.

From there, Dorian and I did some more escaping. We met up with Steve at Barnes and Noble to attempt some studying and end up with some lively banter instead.

Nextly, Dorian and I need to pick up some trivial things at K-Mart and do so. What started out as only going in for a click eraser refill, turns out to be a new set of click erasers (because the didn't have any damn refills), an eraser for my dry-erase board I acquired a few weeks back, some shampoo & conditioner, a shower cap and mousse. At the check-out line, we spot this cute chub guy that Dorian and I immediately recognize as family. He's so adorable, in a bear-ish sort of way. He's got a tummy, he was wearing a sleeveless shirt, so I could see his back (so hairy!), and I noticed he had light stubble on his shoulders and hands (really hairy!), but he sounded super-sweet and he was wearing flip-flops too (I sing the praises of cute bois in flip-flops).

We four (us two, the guy and apparently his girl roommie) crowd into the only open check-out line, in front of a woman who doesn't seem to know the concept of cash. It's then when I decide to start the idle chit-chat and hope to spark interest in me. So we talk, most of it was stuff that I could do to signal the flag saying "I'm gay too! Find me attractive! Ask me out!" So of course I start by telling Dorian what Matt's and my costume ideas are for Halloween. Though I direct it at her, I make sure that it's clear enough for Mr. Bear Boi to hear me. I inform her that we'll be doing the schoolgirl/boy thing, Matt being the girl and I the boy. From there, we take the talk over to Britney and whatnot and my flirtiness (or shyness, whichever, I couldn't tell) kick in to higher gear and then, finally when I think that something's gonna happen... I find that I've already paid for my stuff in an adjacent lane that opened up while the guy was still at the other one.

As Dorian and I reluctantly walked away (me more than her, I'm sure), I could not stop myself from expressing how cute he was and I wished that he would've given me the time of day to find me attractive. It was then that Dorian made it known to me that she knew he was interested. With that ton of bricks crushing me, I tried so hard to draw out the time between putting my bag of stuff into the trunk of the car and driving off, all in the fruitless hope of trying to retain Mr. Bear Boi's attention.

It was not to be, though. The whole ordeal made me sad, to be sure, but it's not like I'm not used to the rejection/indifference. I'm not going to lose sleep over it. Its not like I refuted an offer, maybe just aborted before there was one to be made. But I will say this, I am sure to make this a night to remember; tonight was the first time a fellow gay man has found me attractive.

Now, if only I could plan it so that I could be at the same K-Mart at about the same time next week to see if I could get something to spark...

~A (I don't know who you are)

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{Hell is for children}
14 October 2003 @ 5:25 PM

BGM: "Hell is for Children" by Pat Benatar
Wanting: to hurt and mame
Wearing: white ON polo-style shirt w/blue stripes, navy blue slacks

And in those immortal words, Pat Benatar describes the complete and utter contempt I have for the youth of America. Well, maybe not quite. I can't say that they're all that bad (cuz honestly, I haven't the chance or want to know more than I already do), but I will say that about my uncle's little hellbeasts.

As if having this too-small for a large family house nearly filled to the brim as it is wasn't enough, by the wrath of whatever god rules over children we are punished by the occasional infestation of Alexis and Abby, Uncle Adrian's toddlers. I know that it could just be normal brattiness associated with kids of that certain age, but in my family, that is no such thing. This I attest to the fact that my brother and I, though not the first grandchildren to be bore on my mother's side, we were everybody's favorite and we were so damn well-behaved that we pretty much set the precedent for rugrats to come.

Which, now that I mention it, and now that I do some recollection, all the other offspring on my mother's side (from my uncles, who are all younger than her) after Ivan and I have turned out (in my opinion) really screwed up in some way. You know why? Because, every single one of my uncles is either a) divorced, b) locked up or c) both. That ain't giving much hope for these kids to grow up right. And though it does cast them in a somewhat sympathetic light, it still doesn't excuse them from me in my eyes.

The only kids that turned out okay are my older cousins Blanca and Naomi. The only reason for this is because their dad (my mom's older brother, and my godfather) is a military man and probably runs a tough-as-nails house. I sometimes think that regardless of our environment growing up, the only reason Ivan and I didn't turn out (too) f-ed up is learning by observation and knowing just where not to tread.

And as I hear my Uncle Adrian bark powerless orders to his out of control daughters, and my grandmother attempting to keep cool under the stress, I realize more than ever that I need to get the hell out of his house. Or do something drastic that will make his good-for-nothing ex-wife take full custody of them. Anything to get those wailing brats out of my hair.

I guess this should also serve as proof for my opposition to reproduction.

~A (Leave be!)

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{More emo than a barrel full of Dashboard fans}
13 October 2003 @ 11:54 PM

BGM: "Under Your Spell" by Tara (Amber Benson) from BTVS*
Wanting: read the entry to find out
Wearing: same as earlier, only with dark blue Stanford boxer-briefs replacing the pants

I am at another perculiar point in my inner emotional workings. Up until this point, I've had several occurrences to stir my temperment and to make me feel several different ways in such a short period of time that they've somewhat melded.

First off, I spoke with Alex while I was still at work and I talked to him about my impending visit/move to Seattle and about how I've finally decided upon my name change and what I plan on persuing in college. Also, I had managed to get in touch with my financing and auto insurance company to get them to lower my auto payment by having the finance company take off the insurance that they had slapped on it. And, I got in touch with Best Buy and told them about Mina's stereo problems (CDs skip and short out, but the radio's fine), as it turns out, I was fortunate enough to have gotten insurance to cover me 'til 2007 and all I need to do is simply show up and replace the offending stereo and I can be off on my jolly way. That all put me in a state of content and gave me a rejuvinated outlook on life.

Next, I come home and remember the disappointment that was OUToberFEST 2003 by reading my latest entry, with that threatening to dampen my jovial disposition, I turn to casually look at some Buffy swag online, not that I had any intention whatsoever of buying (the fact that I was even on eBay was due to inadvertent influence from Fox, whom I was chatting with at the time). It was then that I saw two items that I would not feel better until I bid on. One was a script of the "Once More With Feeling" episode that I figured would not only be cool to have, but would be most handy if I ever were to see if I could restir some interest in putting it into a theatrical production like we had attempted to do back in the early days of this past summer under EON. The other object of my affection was the "Once More With Feeling" Special Edition DVD whose copies are only available in a limited amount. With my bids submitted I was satisfied enough to leave the site.

After that, I found myself quite without a thing to do online, so I decided to catch up on the adventures of Gabe and Tycho and also some naughty (yet fictional) exploits of BTVS' Troika. Under those influences I turned to feeling both wistful and anxious. I yearned for both a wonderful career doing what I love (like Mike Krahulik and Jerry Holkins), that and I wanted more than ever to get my own tattoo. And a powerful yearning for love, passion - and to another, yet equally vital extent, sex - like those fictionalized ones of Andrew, Warren, and Jonathan.

Now, Jono's talking to me and bringing me back up in spirits. It's really touching, how no matter how I feel beforehand, once I begin chatting with him I feel so at ease and everything around me suddenly becomes painted in triviality (is that even a word? If it isn't then, that's another thing I love about him; he inspires me to make up words).

So where does that leave me? I guess I'm back at one. At least I can now I can sleep in some sense of peace.

~A (You make me complete)

*[I probably should get off this Buffy kick, but it just wouldn't be like me to drop an obsession until a new one comes and takes its place]

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{I've got a theory...}
13 October 2003 @ 9:03 PM

BGM: "I've Got a Theory" - BTVS (Once More With Feeling) cast
Wanting: *ahem*
Wearing: midnight blue ON tribal tattoo tee, olive ON trek pants

Essentially, I think that all I need right now to alleviate me of this slump that I'm in is, to paraphrase Alicia Silverstone in Clueless, "a good healthy boinkfest." So yeah, I need a man, if only for ten minutes. Last night Fox and I whiled away the hours at various locales including IBT's and The Biz. We got our spur-of-the-moment groove on.

Actually, there was this larger guy there (whom I'm actually convinced he's a paid employee), dancing shirtless, minus for a bra and a blue curly wig. It was truly scary. He managed to defile a beam and a wall by flopping all over it. Now I'm not dissing on larger people *stops and looks down at himself* but, guys like him shouldn't have the self-confidence that they do. Because it's one thing to be comfortable in your body, but it's quite another to think that you should subject everyone else to that. But then again, who am I to ruin other's fun?

Anyway, it was because of said guy that we decided to make haste and leave. That, and it was dead there anyway. So we decided to cruise on over to The Biz for Latino Night. It was cool, though I couldn't really find my beat with all the latin music playing. And when the one really awesome kickin' techno song does come on, the floor is too full for Fox and I to squeeze in. It was all good though, I ran into Ceci, whose so damned awesome. I would probably marry her if I could.

But that was the gist of the evening. And to reprise, I want some hot steamy man lovin' right now. Any takers?

HASH(0x84b76c8)
You're Under your spell!!! You're happily in love
and you want the whole world to know it. Since
you've been going out you've grown into the
person you knew you were meant to be you just
couldn't be happier if you tried.



The ultimate which Once more with feeling song are you quiz!!!!!! Play, today!!!!
brought to you by Quizilla

{Spread beneath my Willow tree}

~A (The moon to the tide, I can feel you inside)

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{where do i start?}
i am... a dancer and a dreamer, latino, gay, a singer, a poet, an artist, a son, a brother, no one's lover, way too obsessed with sailor moon for my own good, a romantic, temporarily unemployed, and too much more to list here

{emotional me}
The current mood of invernal at www.imood.com

{fly me to the moon}
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{sprites!}
Sailor Luna: Chibi-usa, reenvisioned Sailor Moon: at least this gif has the ponytails hanging properly; BEHIND her Tuxedo Kamen: aka - T3H M45K3D MULL37
Sailor Jupiter: who? Sailor Mercury: once was lost, now a geek Sailor Mars: Venus' girltoy Sailor Venus: Mars' daddy

{cool-style}
i was always blue-green cuz we are living in a material world...
« # Gay Diary ? »
Haruka to Michiru kirei
invited by the new age, i am sailorneptune, acting gracefully
typical genki schoolgirls by day, ass-kicking heroines in color-coded mini-skirts by night!
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