Cowering Out Distastefully

I can't begin to express my disappointment in the finale of Willl & Grace. Here you have a show completely dedicated to the strength, beauty and irrepressible devotion between the kind of friendship that can only come from a gay man and a straight woman. And yet with one, swift sweep the last episode managed to dispel all of the hard work of the past eight years.

There is perhaps nothing more sacred, more innocently complex, than the relationship between a gay man and what would have been his wife. I didn't follow Will & Grace religiously. But I did manage to catch most of the episodes in reruns over the years. And the thought that crossed my mind more often than not was, "Wow. They nailed it." I'm a firm believer that what makes true comedy good is that it taps into a universal truth. Something that speaks to some part of us. Something that makes us go, "Oh my God, that's happened to me too!" There is nothing more fascinating than the sharing of human behaviors...especially when we are cowardly or clumsy. Which is what made "Will" & "Grace" work so well.

If you haven't already seen it, the final episode has Will and Grace in an unforgivable argument that results in the separation that was never supposed to happen. It's sacrilegious, really. A petty attempt is made to "hook up" their children in a flash-forward scene. At first, the effect is somewhat sweet. You're led to believe that their children are the perhaps more perfect versions of their selves - the more classic manifestation of true love. But in the end, you are cheated. Because you realize that the real couple, the Will that is so endearingly unsure of himself and the Grace that is so charmingly tactless, have failed you. They didn't make it. They spend the next 20 years apart from each other caught up in insignificant argument. Something that would never happen in real life.

So while I hold my champagne glass up high for an unforgettable series, I refuse to clink my glass in final salute. Instead, I flick my wrist and drink deeply to all the real Will & Grace couples out there who, day-by-day, prove their undying loyalty, and love, to each other. "Queers" to all you pickle biters!

Confessions of a Madonna Fan

My first album ever (on cassette, of course) was Madonna's Like a Prayer. I got that album and the Vanilla Ice one in my stocking for Christmas in 1989. I remember watching her videos on Mtv and being so dumbfounded after learning that the same woman who sang Express Yourself also sang Like a Prayer. Why, they didn't even look or sound like the same woman. It amazed me. To be that chameleonic. I've always loved the idea of switching into various roles depending on the mood and settting. I have specific outfits and personas for a salsa club vs. a country bar vs. a circuit party. In another life, I would have been a performer myself.

But my confession comes here and now: I was so fascinated with Madonna's Blond Ambition Tour that year (1990, I was 13) that I taped the live concert off of HBO, rewatched it religiously and ultimately knew the entire set, including the detailed choreography by heart. Since those days, I have let go of the stalker-style obsession...but I dance at the concerts with just as much fervor.

Last Wednesday, I went to her Confessions Tour. What shocked me most was how much "new" music she's made over the past ten years. It occured to me that, if you are a true Madonna fan, you don't really need to hear Like A Virgin yet again. Because when she sings Ray of Light or Music you realize that these songs are simply associated with newer times in your life and with newer memories made.

But one thing bugged me. In every concert she has ever played, she has always performed Holiday in the last set. I took it for granted as a given. But this time, to my horror, NO Holiday. I stood fuming in my seat, on the verge of utter disappointment, before finally letting my friend lead me out of the oblivion.

This woman has been such a staple in such a huge chunk of my life that nearly everything she has said or created or done has influenced my own life. So I suppose that while Holiday will always hold a special place in my heart, I'll let go and embrace what will likely be her new anthem, Music. After all, the message behind the music has remained the same: "...we've got to get together, take some time to celebrate...music makes the people come together..."

Mariachi Music to My Ears

I recently wrote this article for our company newsletter:

I’m already late on the way to my first Luis Miguel concert. In the Latino world, he’s bigger and more classic than Ricky Martin, believe it or not. As a non-Latino unfamiliar with his music, I’m not quite sure how I’ll react. Will I appreciate it at all?

I finally arrive and stop off at concessions to grab a beer, thinking I might need a slight buzz for this one. By the time I find my group, I see that I’ll have to sit at the end of the row…with the rest of the white people. I expect an ambush of cheesy Mariachi music or roses tossed in great red clouds. But instead, my ears are gently greeted with the sounds of jazzy, romantic strings and horns. I’m immediately enchanted and intrigued.

As I settle back into the seat, I check out the people around me. Here is a couple cuddling close as if they were in front of an evening fire. And over there is a raving group of Latinas, their hands grasping the air in total infatuation. Suddenly, Luis comes out from a costume change. Why this was no mere Mariachi singer. This was Frank Sinatra! He is an imposing figure for such a vast stage, at once raw and sophisticated. He stalks about like a lion, with such power and command. And with his arresting eyes and decisive movements he seems to be conducting the very crowd!

And then come the Mariachis. Only by this time I am overcome with emotion. I am lost to the music. I have surrendered. The rhythm no longer sounds cheesy to my ears. It is festive and infectious. But the lyrics are the real treasure: “Mexico!” resounding in every chorus. I try to recall any songs in modern music that give America such praise, and I come up empty-eared.

As the concert is nearing its end, the crowd cries out desperately, “Otra! Otra!” And all this white boy can think is, “Si! Más, más!”

Willius

I was in relationships for six years and single for three. I'm done. I'm ready. Where's my ring?

This is something my boyfriend and I joke about all the time. I'm always trying to sneak in comments about our future: when will I meet his parents, who's coming to the wedding, what should we name our third child...

On the way home from an art show last week, we passed by a bridal shop. He had the nerve to point out which dress he thought I'd like. You see, he thinks that if I ever do get proposed to and accept, I'll become an unbridled Bridezilla (sorry, couldn't resist that one), fussing over the smallest details and imperfections. I have no idea what he's talking about.

Bennifer. Brangelina. Tom-kat. Do I really want to become one of THOSE couples? You know, the ones who give up their own identity in favor of a blended, new & improved mutation. Darius and I would become morphed into "Willius" in all the tabloids and upper echelon circles in Los Angeles.

This weekend we're headed off to Sacramento for his friend's wedding. There's a bar-b-cue happening the previous night and guess whose name got added to the invite? *big, mischievous grin* He freaked out a bit when he first saw it, but I'll tell you a secret: I'm gonna catch that bouquet come hell or high water.

I Heart SUVs

I drive a Jeep Wrangler and I'm proud of it. A Hula Boy sits on the dashboard. A hand-made rosary hangs from the rear-view mirror (no, I'm not Catholic). Pictures of close friends & family adorn the sun visors. A succulus plant named Charlie dwells in one of the cup-holders. And the last vestiges of one the most important relationships in my life faces the passenger seat : a napkin from an ex that reads "You look handsome" (complete with o's made to look like eyes).

I love this car. It's my pride and joy. Nevermind the fact that I've washed it maybe three times in three years. Please overlook the increasingly awful steering wheel alignment. One of the headlights is askew from a previous wreck, but I think it just makes my Sydney (yes I named my jeep) look like she's in a constant state of winking.

I even have a personalized license plate (stop laughing so loudly, it's distracting). Actually, it's in transition from WILROCU to CURIOS1, consistent with my recent personal re-branding launch. When I pass by other jeeps, their owners always wave at me, and I wave back. Because they know something I know:

The windows and top down, the sun in your face, the music blasting through the static-riddled speakers, the ability to hop a curb thereby avoiding a traffic jam...there is no greater freedom than this.

So when I saw the above picture at my local gas station, I panicked at first. I mean, what are we supposed to do? Us environmentally-indifferent, selfish thrill-seekers? Well let's just say after a few seconds I started to breathe normally again. I mean after all, I'd still have one arm and one leg left...and you can always have another kid, right?

Faulty-Tasking

I don't believe in the value of multi-tasking. You can be having a perfectly good conversation with a close friend, but they get a text message on their cell phone and it's suddenly interrupted. You'll try to watch your favorite movie, but you have to pause it because someone just instant messaged you. I'm in rare writing form, typing out this blog...but the phone just rang so I have to answer it.


Normal people don't spend 15 minutes trying to decide what detergent to buy in the grocery store because they're too busy telling their friend about their date last night. And how many of us have been instant messaging three people, while also trying to download a song, check your MySpace for any new comments and do the dishes? Before you know it, you're typing the wrong thing in the wrong box and somebody's pissed that you weren't paying attention to them. It's like an Instant Message Orgy.

We are growing up through technology. And it gives us heightened levels of information and communication. And these are wonderful, beautiful things. But we're getting sloppy. We're abusing it and losing sight of what's real. Where's the focus? Whatever happened to being with one person at a time and giving that person your undivided attention? We think we're so advanced. That because we can "multi-task" we are almost omnipotent. But we're not. We don't gain powers...we merely distribute them unevenly.

But I think it runs deeper than that. It's not as simple as efficiency. It's about desperate and constant cries for attention. Our self-worth seems justifiable only through the praise of others. Who loves me now? Who loves me more? How many people love me right now!!!?!?

OMG, someone just left me a new comment on MySpace!!! I'll have to finish this blog later...please hold.