Coffee again; Still no alcohol, but plenty of hope.

I just rolled my eyes at that title. Wow, I even unimpress myself. Sweet. I'm not changing it. Effort people, effort.

So, I've had a night to ruminate on yesterday. It sucked. Everybody knows that. But today feels different. Today I have hope. I know that I'm not done. I'm going to keep on learning, except now it's more like an independent study. I'm home schooling myself. I'm going to try new things, and I'm going to rock them. I'm going to cure meats, make cheese. I can do it, and you know why? Because I believe that I can. I'm not afraid.

That's something I've come to learn, and it's probably the most important lesson in all of cooking. Don't be afraid. Try new things, do something new and different. If someone asks me if I can make something the first thing to come out of my mouth is YES. Well, I don't yell it. That was for emphasis. OK, I yell it sometimes.

I earnestly believe that there is nothing that is impossible for me to cook. I have confidence in myself, and I don't think that it's completely unfounded. Am I the best chef in all the land? Not yet, no. But I have drive, ambition, and a thirst for this life. I may trip; I may fumble; I may even fall flat on my fucking face. I'll get up, brush myself off, and keep on cooking.

That's all that yesterday was. I tripped over my own two feet. Today I'm standing back up. This time I'm making sure that my shoes are tied before I run around the kitchen. I'm learning. I'm becoming a better person. I'm becoming a better chef.

And on a last note, I'm listening to all of the music in my library on my computer and it's on shuffle. It just started playing "For Good" from Wicked. That song was for yesterday. Today, "The Bitch is Back".

I'm drinking coffee and there's not even alcohol in it...fail.

Today was the worst day of my life. It was my last day of culinary school. I went to school, cleaned, signed my withdrawal form, and left. It seems fitting somehow that today was a complete nonevent. No one mentioned that I wouldn't be there on Monday; but, it's better that way because I would have lost it if they had. I probably won't see most of those people ever again, which is OK. They'll forget me as I'll forget them. They may think about that one kid that sang a lot, but that's the closest they'll come to remembering me. I'll weave my way seamlessly out of their lives, as if I was never a part of it at all.

I felt numb on the way home. I wanted to feel something but I just couldn't. It may seem like I'm over reacting right now, but I'm just having some problems coping at the moment. Right now I feel like I did in high school, back in the dark ages. Those times where I just wasn't me. Back before I came to terms with who I was. I feel lost. There's a fog around me and everywhere I turn there is nothing, no one. I'm just done. I'm going to sleep and maybe I'll feel human when I wake up in the morning. If I'm lucky I won't.

Whatever.

I'm a grammar Nazi, mein Freund.

I also don't speak German. So, here's the deal. I love language. I'm the kid that likes to read books on English grammar just so that I can lord minute details of my native tongue over my peers. My biggest pet peeves in the world are who v. whom, ending sentences with prepositions(or prepositional phrases), and the simple things like their v. there v. they're. Am I guilty of these things occasionally? Yes, yes I am. Are these crimes so heinous that one should face a tribunal upon their(see, here is where this one goes.) committal? Maybe.

There is one crime, one horrible act against English nature the for the likes of which I shall never be at fault. That is legitly. I just threw up a little. Those sounds should never be uttered in sequence. Legit? With that I can deal. However, if you add an -ly trying to make it an adverb, fuck you in the ass with something hard and sand-papery. You cannot go around taking the middle out of words all willy-nilly. The establishment will fall people, it will fall! Thinking of which, Heinz, fuck you, too. Est'd? Really? REALLY?!? Burn in hell!

OK, I may have lost my shit there a little. Whimsy, calm the fuck down.

I have one more thing to about which to bitch. I know that recently(by "recently" I mean the last couple of years) it has officially been deemed "correct" to end a sentence with a preposition. I have one thing to say: Homo don't play that game (Yes, I refer to myself as Homo. Yes, you are jealous.). Also, it is not OK. You're wrong, I am right. Na na na na boo boo, stick your head in doo-doo. No truer words have ever been spoken. Also also, I took great care to not end sentences with prepositions in this post. It's a little awkward at times, but you'll deal.

And I'm spent.

Music for the Moment - "I Am What I Am"

I recently discovered this song. This song am I. If you don't agree you're stupid. And ugly. And possibly a little bit republican(let's face it, republicans don't read this blog.) This song is from a musical called "La Cage Aux Folles", also known as "The Birdcage". As in the movie starring Robin Williams and Nathan Lane. Both the musical and the movie come from the play. In the musical version, the song is sung by the character that in the movie is played by Nathan Lane. The number is performed by a man in drag(let's face it, I would look GREAT as a drag queen) when he finds out that his son is ashamed of having two dads. The bitch.

Just as a reminder:

"I Am What I Am" - La Cage Aux Folles

I am what I am
I am my own special creation.
So come take a look,
Give me the hook or the ovation.
It's my world that I want to take a little pride in,
My world, and it's not a place I have to hide in.
Life's not worth a damn,
'Til you can say, "Hey world, I am what I am."
I am what I am,
I don't want praise, I don't want pity.
I bang my own drum,
Some think it's noise, I think it's pretty.
And so what, if I love each feather and each spangle,
Why not try to see things from a diff'rent angle?
Your life is a sham 'til you can shout out loud
I am what I am!
I am what I am
And what I am needs no excuses.
I deal my own deck
Sometimes the ace, sometimes the deuces.
There's one life, and there's no return and no deposit;
One life, so it's time to open up your closet.
Life's not worth a damn 'til you can say,
"Hey world, I am what I am!"

For cereal, this song is me. I love it ever so much.

Why I'm awesome, Volume II

So, all two and half people who read this blog know that come March my schedule is going to free up a bit. By "a bit" I mean that CCI is kicking me to the curb and the only life that I've had for a long time is going to end. I'm one of those people who carries the belief/hope/delusion that when God closes a door, he opens a window. So when I heard that "Glee" is holding open casting calls to fill three slots in its second season I thought that maybe I had found the window for which I was searching. This is a big leap of faith for me. I don't personally feel like I have any talent whatsoever and that generally I'm a big waste of space. I do certain things, such as singing, because I like to, not because I'm good at them. Same with cooking. I tell myself I'm awesome every single day in the hopes that maybe that one time I'll actually believe it.

Now comes the audition tape. I'm at a loss for this. I've done auditions before. I know the kind of thing I have to do. I know I need to sing and I know that I need to act. I have two monologues chosen, one is dramatic and one is comedic. Both involve me being gay. Is that a bad thing? Should I really just wear it on my sleeve like that? I mean, let's be honest, it's not like I can hide it. I've tried. Erratic can attest to that. She saw right through me. The song, I have no clue what I want to sing. Suggestions are welcome. Why do I fail so hard?

Oh, and the reason I'm awesome? I'm doing this. That has to count for something, right? Worst come to worse I go back to culinary school and pretend to be awesome there.

Music for the Moment - "They Don't Make Glass Slippers"

So, anyone who's anyone knows about the impending demise of all of my hopes and dreams that is my withdrawal from culinary school. I know that it's only temporary. I know that I'll go back again. These things give me no comfort. It sucks. I've met so many people that have changed my life, ones that will stay in it forever. Well, maybe that's more "person" than "people" (let's say that her name rhymes with "schmerratic"). I don't want to go there. I'm a mess and it will only get worse if I go into it too deeply. Back to music. There are a million songs I could use to describe my abject misery, but I feel like this particular one best describes the hopelessness that resides in the dark vacuum of bitter hatred that was once my soul (I'm nothing if not dramatic). The song is called "They Don't Make Glass Slippers" by Daniel Boys, though the link is to the much less awesome Gareth Gates.

Once upon a time

There was just a little boy

And he thought the whole world was his

Wasn't very old when he came to find out

That that's not how it is

They don't make glass slippers

It's no great surprise

If they make glass slippers

They don't have my size

Happy ever afters

Always turn out wrong

No fairy godmother pops up

To help things along

They don't make glass slippers

Pretty as they seem

Trouble is glass slippers

Shatter like a dream

Why don't handsome princes

Practice what they preach

Magical kingdoms are always

Just out of my reach

Once upon a time

There was just a little boy

And he thought the whole world was his

Wasn't very old when he came to find out

That that's not how it is

Once upon a time

There was just a little boy

And he thought the whole world was his

Wasn't very old when he came to find out

That that's not how it is

They don't make glass slippers

It's no great surprise

If they make glass slippers

They don't have my size

Happy ever afters

Always turn out wrong

No fairy godmother pops up

To help things along

No fairy godmother pops up

To help things along

This song is the fucking story of my life. WHERE IS MY FAIRY GODMOTHER(emphasis on the fairy)? I had to end on a gay joke. I'll survive...but that's a different song for a different day.

I am going to poke these men. Well, technically they are going to poke me.

After the last post I figured that I better gay this blog up, drape some garland from the buttresses and shit some glitter. Following is the list of men to whom I would gladly do dirty things. The list is mainly comprised of singers/actors, with the exception of one journalist. Once again, apparently your boneability is directly linked to your vocal ability. It's also worth mentioning that three of the five play Mark in "RENT" at some point in their career. I'm so cool. Apparently I just want men to sing to me. And then put it in. What? One more thing, it turns out that they're all gay. That's very important to me. They have to be gay. Or drunk. Same thing.

5. Anthony Rapp- The original Mark. I just really love his voice. He also played Charlie Brown in "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown". Wait, does that make me a pedophile? Sweet. I've got candy kids, I've got candy.

4. NPH- Also a Mark. Look at him, he's adorable. That and he decapitated himself on Ellen. Youtube it. It happened.

3.Adam Kantor- Yet another Mark. Maybe it's the character. I mean, every time that I see RENT my pants do seem to get a little bit smaller. Yeah, that happened. Also when I downloaded this picture it was under "Jews to watch for". I would do so many things to his salty Matzo Balls. I went there. Is anyone surprised?

2.Anderson Cooper- He's new to the team. Well, not really. We've been waiting for him to come out for a very long time, and by "we" I mean myself and the idol I keep of him made out of chewed gum and used tissues. It's under my bed...for now.

1.Daniel Boys- He's a British musical theater actor that was most recently seen playing Princeton/Rod in "Avenue Q" on the West End. Lets just say this: He's welcome on my West End anytime. (For those of you not in the know the West End is the British equivalent to Broadway...and a not so subtle euphemism for my anus.)

I've just decided that I should probably stop writing posts like this. I have a lot of pent up sexual energy. For Christ's sake you would too if you were a 21 year old gay virgin waiting for the "right" gay. Yeah, I typed gay. I meant to. Don't be jealous. Right now I feel like I'm rambling. Four cups of coffee makes me crazy. I'm just going to go call Erratic. Gayest post ever? I think so.