Have you ever simply heard a vocal artist's voice and known that you were going to be in love with that individual, only to find out later that they are unattractive to you? For me, the sheer quality and other characteristics of a voice can be enough to bring me to my knees, but although my ears may be in love, my eyes are far from it. I wish to share this odd problem of mine with the world, perhaps in hopes that I may find another who suffers from a similar superficial issue. I feel ridiculous that this is my plight, but I suppose journaling (or blogging) can only be a good first step in solving the problem, right? We'll find out if I'm cured by the time I'm done writing...
I have only experienced this instantaneous, vocally-based attraction to three individuals in my entire life. Thus, I value their music as the best in this world. They are, in no particular order:
1) The lead singer of Rascal Flatts, a country/pop music hybrid. The band had my attention when I first heard "What Hurts the Most," but I was entirely captivated when I heard their redo of "Life Is a Highway." Especially during the chorus, this man's voice is incredible, for lack of a stronger word. I had rather high hopes that, in some idealistic world, he could be mine and sing to me daily, hourly, eternally. Besides the obvious impediments (need I name them?), I believed that we could be together forever. However, I saw him for the first time in my life, and he strangely enough looks like a penguin/squirrel crossbreed. *Sigh*
2) The lead singer of The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. This band was one of those that came into my life, swept me off my feet the very first time I heard "In Fate's Hands," and has never let my feet back down to beloved land, which I am beginning to miss dearly. I think this singer's most incredible vocal moment is heard in their song "False Pretense," for any who may be looking to have a similar experience to my own. Unfortunately, when I saw him, he looked hauntingly familiar, and I quickly identified the look as that of the Hanson brothers, the icons of the 90's that had us all "Mmm-bop"ing to life. The long hair just doesn't do much for me, although I am currently blaming the lighting for this man's odd facade.
3) Mariah Carey. She is one of the most talented vocalists that I have ever heard. In one song, "Emotions," I believe, she hits high notes that were previously not believed existent. I also think that she can sing lower than I can. That, however, is beyond the point. She proved to be the one artist who was as beautiful as her voice. The vocal connection was instantaneous, but when I downloaded the artwork for her albums, I saw that her marvelous voice was backed by much beauty.
I like to point out the morals of my stories so that even the thick-headed may gain wisdom from them. Thus, the moral of this story? It is always better to trust your straight instincts than your gay ones.
Oddly enough, I do believe I'm overcoming this problem as I write. How fortunate. Of course, that could just be the soothing sound of Mariah Carey calming all of my fears...
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Saturday, January 6, 2007
A Visit With The Doctor(s)
The doctor's office has always been of fascination to me; I am amazed and enthralled that advances in medicine, science, and technology allow the existence of the quality of life that we have. I have always had positive experiences with doctors, and a visit to them has never been a waste to me. Although I detest the fact that (typically) the only reason one needs to see a doctor is due to a problem that is occurring, they are still always fascinating and helpful visits. (-L-, is this better than your television program thus far? :) Tell me if you begin to get more patients due to the positive light I am shining upon physicians.)
My latest visit to the doctor was beneficial, as always, if not unique and slightly disturbing. Two circumstances occurred that are not typical in the archives of my doctor-visits memory.
1) I was overwhelmed by a terrible ratio of doctors to patients. There was the physician himself, and he was enough for me. A one to one ratio feels awkward enough as it is in a medical setting, without thousands of other examining eyes upon me. However, the doctor then introduced me to the nurse practitioner and a medical assistant of some sort. I was sitting on the infamous doctor's bed with the loud, crunchy paper on it (If you're only consulting a physician for information, why do they require you to sit on the bed? I was on a chair, like a normal human being, but the nurse asked me to get on the bed. I think it's a doctor's form of a dunce cap.) and they truly had me cornered. One stood to each side of me, and one directly in front of me. I gulped, not knowing what they wanted. As the doctor told me the entirely-too-many syllabic nature of my condition, the other two looked down at me with solemn nods, as if saying "we, too, have seen your fate..." If I would have had to take my shirt off for my diagnosis, it would have been an entire strip club in that one room. I would have felt more confident if there wasn't a large box of hypodermic needles to the side of the nurse practitioner who, I swear, was eyeing them with a look of evil in her eyes.
2) Before the physician ever enters the room, a nurse typically takes the pulse, tests for blood pressure, and asks some preliminary questions about the reason for visiting the doctor. This nurse skipped the heart/blood processes, but did ask me some questions. One of them was entirely unrelated to medicine at all. She said, "do you know who I am?" I couldn't guess, so finally she told me that she was the mother of one of my classmates, Hortencia, who I rarely see anymore. The nurse told me that Hortencia always thought that I was attractive and nice. The next sentence was the one that pinned me in the heart, however. Said the nurse, "Hortencia always loved you and David, and I always got you two mixed up. I never remembered which was which, but now that you're in my office, I'll always be able to distinguish between the two of you." For those of you who know me, David is the name that describes the male entity that has (unfortunately) been the object of my affection for over a year. For those of you who don't know me, David is the name that describes the male entity that has (unfortunately) been the object of my affection for over a year. (Why didn't I just copy and paste?) Obviously, much emotion is wrapped up in that name. I tried my hardest to keep from blushing (I didn't want rosacea diagnosed, as well), and I kept my thoughts to myself. But I wish to share them now. You know what I think about Hortencia? I think she has the best taste in men in the entire world.
My latest visit to the doctor was beneficial, as always, if not unique and slightly disturbing. Two circumstances occurred that are not typical in the archives of my doctor-visits memory.
1) I was overwhelmed by a terrible ratio of doctors to patients. There was the physician himself, and he was enough for me. A one to one ratio feels awkward enough as it is in a medical setting, without thousands of other examining eyes upon me. However, the doctor then introduced me to the nurse practitioner and a medical assistant of some sort. I was sitting on the infamous doctor's bed with the loud, crunchy paper on it (If you're only consulting a physician for information, why do they require you to sit on the bed? I was on a chair, like a normal human being, but the nurse asked me to get on the bed. I think it's a doctor's form of a dunce cap.) and they truly had me cornered. One stood to each side of me, and one directly in front of me. I gulped, not knowing what they wanted. As the doctor told me the entirely-too-many syllabic nature of my condition, the other two looked down at me with solemn nods, as if saying "we, too, have seen your fate..." If I would have had to take my shirt off for my diagnosis, it would have been an entire strip club in that one room. I would have felt more confident if there wasn't a large box of hypodermic needles to the side of the nurse practitioner who, I swear, was eyeing them with a look of evil in her eyes.
2) Before the physician ever enters the room, a nurse typically takes the pulse, tests for blood pressure, and asks some preliminary questions about the reason for visiting the doctor. This nurse skipped the heart/blood processes, but did ask me some questions. One of them was entirely unrelated to medicine at all. She said, "do you know who I am?" I couldn't guess, so finally she told me that she was the mother of one of my classmates, Hortencia, who I rarely see anymore. The nurse told me that Hortencia always thought that I was attractive and nice. The next sentence was the one that pinned me in the heart, however. Said the nurse, "Hortencia always loved you and David, and I always got you two mixed up. I never remembered which was which, but now that you're in my office, I'll always be able to distinguish between the two of you." For those of you who know me, David is the name that describes the male entity that has (unfortunately) been the object of my affection for over a year. For those of you who don't know me, David is the name that describes the male entity that has (unfortunately) been the object of my affection for over a year. (Why didn't I just copy and paste?) Obviously, much emotion is wrapped up in that name. I tried my hardest to keep from blushing (I didn't want rosacea diagnosed, as well), and I kept my thoughts to myself. But I wish to share them now. You know what I think about Hortencia? I think she has the best taste in men in the entire world.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
Just a Little Less Gay
Alas, after a long "Blogger silence" of multiple weeks, I have returned to writing. The reason for my absence was actually somewhat of a trauma, and I would like to share it here.
I had this brilliant stroke of comprehension sometime over the past couple of weeks, and I realized there may be much less to write about concerning homosexual issues than I originally anticipated, at least for a blogging audience. I have found that not only have I created narcoleptic problems for multiple readers (sleepers, actually, as they prefer to be called :) ), but I simply think that the correct forum for such proper and controversial discussion may not, in fact, be a blog. I suffered a two minute loss of sense of blogging self, but I recovered, and I came out stronger in the end, with better ideas than ever before.
A quick, mid-message disclaimer: should I choose to continue posting preachy. lengthy, Gospel-Doctrine-class-only posts, please be accepting and forgiving. It's simply in my nature to write in such a manner, and no one can be blamed for their nature, can they? :) (Oh, no! A gay reference! I may never learn to separate from this side of me...)
The logical conclusion, however? I still fully intend for this blog to be a place where I can be openly "gay," so to speak. Everyone who leads a "Jekyll vs. Hyde" life understands the importance of letting "Hyde" out in controlled, healthy settings. Blogging is such a release for me. It's nice to be able to complain about issues, about hypocrites, and about all of the other woes that plague me and all who struggle against significant demons. Nevertheless, my blog may become slightly less gay. SHOCKING! I know. Take large breaths, and use an inhaler if necessary. You will be needing as much breath as you can muster because I will be taking it away with my new posts!
I had this brilliant stroke of comprehension sometime over the past couple of weeks, and I realized there may be much less to write about concerning homosexual issues than I originally anticipated, at least for a blogging audience. I have found that not only have I created narcoleptic problems for multiple readers (sleepers, actually, as they prefer to be called :) ), but I simply think that the correct forum for such proper and controversial discussion may not, in fact, be a blog. I suffered a two minute loss of sense of blogging self, but I recovered, and I came out stronger in the end, with better ideas than ever before.
A quick, mid-message disclaimer: should I choose to continue posting preachy. lengthy, Gospel-Doctrine-class-only posts, please be accepting and forgiving. It's simply in my nature to write in such a manner, and no one can be blamed for their nature, can they? :) (Oh, no! A gay reference! I may never learn to separate from this side of me...)
The logical conclusion, however? I still fully intend for this blog to be a place where I can be openly "gay," so to speak. Everyone who leads a "Jekyll vs. Hyde" life understands the importance of letting "Hyde" out in controlled, healthy settings. Blogging is such a release for me. It's nice to be able to complain about issues, about hypocrites, and about all of the other woes that plague me and all who struggle against significant demons. Nevertheless, my blog may become slightly less gay. SHOCKING! I know. Take large breaths, and use an inhaler if necessary. You will be needing as much breath as you can muster because I will be taking it away with my new posts!
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