I Write, You Read

So I've been struggling to write recently and I've discovered that for me, writing comes in waves. I'll go through about a three week period where all I want to do is write and be creative and explode all over the place. And then for about another three weeks, all I'll want to do is read and be silent and observe the world. I can feel myself slipping between these cycles and I'm afraid that my reading cycle is creeping back early this time. I read four Vogue magazines in a day, cover to cover, even the articles no one reads. So I've decided that I'm going to combat this oncoming cycle by rambling on in my writing and forcing something, anything to come out. I will not edit and I will not write entire blog posts and then delete them because I think they're trivial. I will write and throw it to the world because that's what writers do.

I can tell this plan will work. Just by sitting here and writing this post, I am bursting with ideas for more. I've had to start a list just so I can remember it all. This is what artists do: the create because they have to, not because they want to. I can't breathe, can't sleep, can't work unless I've written something that day. I have so many thoughts and so many emotions whizzing through my head that if I didn't allow them to escape, they would continually bounce and terrorize my brain until I did. I am a tea kettle, explosive with steam. I don't live so that I may write, I write so that I may live.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before but I struggle with confidence. I often feel like I'm good at a lot of little things but not great at one thing like everyone else seems to be. And so I often struggle believing that I am a writer. I have to wake up everyday and repeat to myself that today I am a writer and one day I will be an author. There's an enormous difference between the two. Its akin to saying, "I am a singer" and "I am a star." Anyone can be a writer. I'd say that 98% of the world's population are writers. But to be an author means to present language in a way that moves people, changes them and challenges their very thoughts. To be an author, you have to have the ability to enter peoples minds, implant a story and make them believe that it was there all along. And then convince them to share that story with everyone they know, spread it around like warm butter on hot toast.

No, I am not an author. Today I am a writer. But one day, I will be an author.

Cerebral Ceremonies

I think that I think too much. I feel like I'm constantly in my head, having conversations with myself, playing through scenarios in hopes of preparing for all the possible outcomes. And what sucks is that sometimes, when someone asks me a question, they think I didn't hear them because I've gone off, staring into space trying to erect an answer while at the same time, try to guess what you're reaction will be.

This gets me into most trouble during funerals. I spend the whole time trying to create the most appropriate reaction for the situation that I forget that not only is no one looking for my reaction, but they don't care. And so I sometimes forget to just allow my body to react naturally and then I forget to grieve. (Grief usually catches up with me about a week later when I can do nothing but cry.)

I also find myself doing this at any important, crowded events. At weddings I'm focused on looking so happy I'm almost crying but also dapper and sophisticated. At award ceremonies, I try not to look expectant and more "just happy to be here" or "they totally deserve this award."

I know I'm not the only one who does this. We all have different masks we put on in social situations like those. Especially if our true feelings are inappropriate for the event. Which is usually my problem. At funerals, I don't feel sad typically. It's more like...reading an out of order sign. I'm not emotionally invested, I just sort of let it happen to me. I mean, I'm not a robot, I do feel some level of sadness or disappointment or regret but I'm not weeping over it. I mean, it's an out of order sign. I simply accept the experience and move on.

Weddings are a different story. Weddings are supposed to be joyous and celebratory. Meanwhile, I'm sitting in the back pew, sipping out of the flask I snuck in and trying to decide if I should make a scene or not. I don't give up attention very well (Youngest Child Syndrome) so attending weddings and having the entire event all about the couple is something I haven't gotten used to yet. So I usually spend my time flip flopping between secret disapproval (I'll admit to a hint of jealousy in there. Someday I think I'd like to get married and I'm jealous that they can and I can't) and being regal and classy. This is all for the ceremony mind you. At the reception I am all about four things: drinking, dancing, hooking up and cake.

At award ceremonies I am typically seething underneath. As with the weddings, I don't enjoy attending events like that where I'm not the center of attention. If I'm not nominated, I'm not going. And if I AM nominated, I practice my "Just happy to be here" smile and gracious clap for at least two days before attending. It's not that I'm cynical, I just know two truths: 1) I win about 1 out of every 100 awards that I'm nominated for. 2) if I DO win, I want my surprise to be genuine. So I prepare to lose everytime.

I'm aware that in all of these situations, I'm completely self-centered and unapologetic for it. But I'm 23. If I've ever been allowed to be self-centered its now. I know all too well from watching WAY too much Will & Grace and Sex and the City that your 20s is the time for you to find out who you are and completely focus on that. Will I eventually be able to express sympathy for the family instead of trying to put on my best "tragically upset" face at funerals? Probably. Will I be able to attend weddings and not want to casually knock over a candle in the middle of the ceremony? Yeah, probably around the same time that I learn how to attend an award ceremony and not care who wins.

I'm 23. I think too much and I'm only concerned with myself....sometimes...for now.

Character Introduction: Scout

Soo...while writing, I realized that I need to flesh out some of my characters more. Scout is my main character and the realest to me so I figured I'd introduce you two so you could get to know him (and tell me what you think.) If you have other questions you'd like Scout to answer, please post them in the comments.




Tell us about yourself.
My name is Scout Thanos. I'm 17 years old and sooo close to graduating high school. I really can't wait to get out of that place. It's suffocating. The teachers are always telling you what to do and where to be, what to wear and how to act. I don't understand how anyone can survive with all those rules.

What do you do for fun?
I spend most of my free time keeping myself from being bored. Sometimes I watch TV or chill in my room and listen to music but for the most part I like to go out and find something fun to do. One time I got home from school and spent the rest of the day gathering all of the pillows, mattresses and blankets in a pile outside of my bedroom window and then I called my friends over and we all took turns jumping out the window onto the pad. It was a blast! It felt like I was flying... Someday I'm gonna fly right out of this place, I swear to God.

Can you tell us about your family?
I have two older brothers, Eric and Jonathan. They're alright. They've both been away at college for the past few years so I don't really see them. When they lived at home though, they used to drive me nuts. Eric would always come home and change the TV to some anime show he liked, even if I was already watching something. He was really annoying growing up. He kind of seemed to calm down when he left for college. I don't know if he matured because he's at college and not living with Mom and Dad anymore or if he's matured because he's gotten older. Haha! Jonathan still comes home every weekend. He went to the community college on the mainland so he's only a half hour drive away. I don't think he's changed as much as Eric has at college. He's still the same, quiet Jonathan that stays out of everyone's way but makes a point to do his own thing.

And your parents?
My parents are alright. My dad, Will, is a truck driver. He's been all over the United States and most of Canada. He's home about 6 times a year and never for more than a weekend at time. When I was really little, I used to beg him to take me with him on one of his trips and he'd always say, "When you're older, Scout." Then he'd hop into his cab, make the engine scream to life and drive off. He's always driving off. My mother, Molly, raised us pretty much by herself. My dad would send her money throughout the year but I still don't remember a time when my mom wasn't working. She's been the receptionist at Dr. Scalaf's office since before I was born. There's nothing really special about her. She's a good mom. She taught me to tie my shoes and pee in the toilet instead of my pants. But I honestly can't remember a time when she kissed my knee after I scraped it on the ground or smoothed my hair trying to get me to close my eyes while I fought off sleep. I don't remember her reading to me as a child or telling me how good my finger painting was. She just isn't an affectionate mother. She's reliable, that's for sure, but definitely not affectionate. But I mean, I don't think it changed me at all. I'm okay. I go to school. I make alright grades. I have friends. I'm not socially awkward. Yeah, I'm alright.

What are your favorite things?
My favorite things in life is kind of a complicated subject. My favorite color is anything bright. I like things that catch people's eye. I want them to stare and wonder what the heck I'm wearing or what I've done to my hair. I don't mind being the center of attention. I guess I get that from being the youngest in my family. I like doing anything that's outside: running, biking, swimming, sailing, laying in the grass, going on walks. Staying inside just seems so boring to me. I need sunlight in my life.

What are your friends like?
My best friends are Mena, Catherine and Greg. We've known each other since elementary school and it SUCKS that we're all going to different colleges. Well, they are. I'm still not sure if I'm gonna go or not. I told them that I applied to all these places but in all honesty, I haven't sent out one. It's not that I'm scared, I'm just not sure it's something that I want. Who wants to move out of their parents house where they have to pay for everything and CHOOSE to go to school? No one. Especially me. No, I'd rather spend my time sailing around the world or going on an archeological dig and finding the next King Tut. I'd rather be having tea with Queen Liz or meditating with the Tibetan monks. I guess I just want more of an adventure and college just can't offer that to me.

What do you want to be when you grow up?
You know, I'm not really sure what I want to do with my life. I think I'm too young to decide on that right now. I figure I'll just see where this summer leaves me off and go from there.

An Open Letter to My First Love

My First Love,

I want....no, I need you to realize that I loved you first. Before you ever loved me, I was head-over-heals for you. I locked eyes with you and lost a part of myself in their deep blue abyss. You took a piece of me and honestly, I don't want it back. You can have it. It's yours to keep forever and ever. I will always be incomplete because of you. I've grown to accept that. I've learned to compensate. I limp because of you. I hide bits and pieces of myself in fear that someone might steal them from me like you stole that part of me. Just the important parts, though. Just the parts I'm afraid of losing because I just don't think I'd survive another theft like that.

It's important that you know that I don't blame you. I don't hate you. In fact, I still love you....very much so. I still have dreams about you. I still wonder what it would have been like if we had fallen into deep, real, long-lasting love. I wonder what it would have been like if you left me whole. I wonder what kind of a neighborhood we would have lived in, if we would have had kids, if we would be friends with our neighbors and participate in the PTA. I wonder if you'd beg me to let you paint my writing room the same way you begged me to let you paint all over my writing notebook....to "inspire" me, you said. I still have that notebook, you know. I can't bring myself to throw it away. I don't know if it's because of what I've written inside or because I'm still clinging to you through that paint you left on the cover. It's just attached to me like a tan line that won't fade. It's always there. Sometimes I take it out and look at it. I flip through the pages of my sobbing teenage years and smell that scent you always had on you: paint mixed with a subtle hint of crayons. And I remember. I remember what it was like to be with you, to laugh and argue and make out on the futon in your parents house. I remember watching you stare at the canvas, paintbrush in your mouth, smudges of color all over your face and in your hair. And I remember the way your arms felt around me when we would watch movies together. See? It wasn't all bad. Just the end. And I don't even really remember the end...or I choose not to. I'm not sure which.

I also need you to know that I never told anyone what really went on between us. Whenever I spoke of you, it was almost always a lie. When I was mad, I made up stories that turned you into a monster. But when I was happy, I turned you into a prince in shining armor. To my friends, you were whatever I needed you to be. I lied to you and about you. For that, I'm sorry. You have to understand that you fulfilled my teen angst and hormone-driven lust. You were my first love and very much a convenient escape. You made me feel like trash. You made me feel special. I was special trash to you. Special trash that you know is garbage but you can't bring yourself to throw it away. To you, I was that notebook I cling to.

Love,
your special trash,
K

A Piece of Paper

So today at work (for those that don't know, I work in a restaurant,) my boss's boss was in observing her (my boss) technique on the line. (Again for those that don't know, the line is where the food comes from the kitchen into the servers hands.) Anyway, he was in observing which immediately put everyone on edge because our boss threatened our jobs if we weren't cooperative. Cool. So already at 11:00 AM I'm stressed out. But I tried to ignore him and just do what I do everyday: take the shit orders, bag the shit food, give them to shit people and take their delicious money. I do try to help my friends out when I have the time. Mostly because their my friends but also because they help me out too. If I'm being completely honest, I bust my fucking ass there. I'm always doing shit for people, even the people I dont like. I greet tables, seat people, bus tables, just generally help out when I can. I mean, I'm a nice guy and if someone asks me to do something when I'm standing around not doing anything, of course I'm gonna help out. But that's neither here nor there, really.

At the end of the shift, my boss's boss gathered us all together to thank us for "allowing him in our kitchen." Whatever, he pretty much owns the place. But he was trying to be respectful, I get it. And after thanking us he said he wanted to recognize someone who was always available to help out, constantly refilling drinks, stocking and running food even though it wasn't his job or his table. That person was me. Hurray.....kind of. See, the company I work for, instead of giving monotary rewards (raises) for jobs well done, they give these slips of paper that say, "hey. Thanks for doing that. You're a real team player." ......mother fucker, does it look like I can pay rent with this shit? Don't get me wrong, I'm greatful for being recognized for doing a great job. I really do enjoy the praise. But if you're going to give me something in return, make it cash or gtfo. I have received 23 of these little slips of paper since I started working at this restaurant. 23! That's more than once a week! I just don't even know what to do with them any more. At first I put them on my fridge but that seemed silly. I didn't even want them in the first place so why was I keeping them? I WANT to rip them up and give my boss tiny paper cuts on her eyes...but I don't. I just give her my best "who me?! Thank you!" smile and take the paper home. It promptly goes in the trash but at least I take it home.

Maybe I'm ungreatful but I like to call it poor. I struggle every month to pay rent and all of my bills. I'm lucky that I have the most understanding roommate and parents in the world who are always willing to help me out. But seriously? I bust my ass 6 days a week for you and all I get is a piece of paper? This little scrap makes me want to NOT bust my ass for you. And maybe it's just me but giving out THAT many "rewards" so frequently doesn't really make them rewards anymore. They're more like their true form: shitty bits of paper with my name spelled wrong.

My Brothers

I need to take some time and discuss my brothers. I'm the youngest of four boys and while it has taught me a great deal of things, having only brothers, I also feel its left me lacking in some areas.

A - A is the eldest. He set the bar when it came to making rules for the kids and paved the way for the rest of us. He's always been a leader and a trouble maker. He taught me how to defend myself. The first time I was ever in a car accident, the minute I got home, I ran into A's arms. I have always felt safe with him and I think I always will. A got married when I was 18. The family flew to the Bahamas and watchedwith tears in our eyes as he said "I do." Since I was months away from leaving for college, giving A over to his new wife was pretty easy for me. I just figured that it was time for our family dynamic to change. And as I stood with my toes in the sand and waited for the photographer to stop taking pictures of me, I thought back to when he left for college and how, then, I wasn't ready for him to leave. I still needed him. I still needed to learn how to think logically when tackling a problem or how to pull someone off me when they're pinning me down. A taught me to pick up a shield and defend myself first...always.

D - D is the second eldest and radically different from A. D is aggressive and unbelievably cunning. While A joined the percussion in the school band, D went out for wrestling and football. D was the one who taught me how to throw a football, swing a bat and how to pee standing up. He taught me that it was possible to be creative and still be the toughest guy in school. He knew how to manipulate my parents from the start. D taught me how to attack as a means of defense. Use your words first, cut them deep and hurt their feelings; strike them only when they strike first or you absolutely have to. Though he never said those words to me, that was his message. Growing up with D was very much a trial by fire. I rarely have a memory of D where we weren't fighting or playing a game where we pretended to fight. It's no surprise that now D is in the military. Him being gone all the time is hard. It's hard on all of us. I know we all worry even when he's stateside. I just can't imagine life without him. D taught me to pick up a sword and use it. My best defense is a good offense. He'd probably rather me pick up a gun but that doesn't really fit into my imagery, does it? 

J - J is the youngest of my older brothers. He is shy and quiet. He has always kept to himself and always preferred to be alone rather than play with others. J was the peacemaker of our family. He always sacrificed himself if it would make his brothers happy. He too joined the percussion and finally found a means of expression. J taught me to be merciful and how to play. J gave me my imagination. He taught me to look at the world and only see what I want it to be. In a sense, J gave me a pair of rose colored glasses that I sometimes still struggle to take off. J taught me what it meant to be independant. He wants to do everything himself to make sure that it is exactly the way he wants it. He taught me not to care what people said or thought and to go after my own dreams and do what I want to do. J taught me to find my imagination and how to run away with it.

So there are my three brothers. They are the three people I always look to first. I seek their approval before anyone else's. They have been my teachers, my friends and my defenders. I can't tell you how many times my brothers protected me from physical attacks in school. I can't express the love I have for them. I owe so much of who I am to them, the least I can do is blog about it.

Figments of my imagination

Sometimes, while standing at my bus stop, I feel completely alone in the world. The cars and buses and trucks pass by without passengers. The other beings that exist on the bus seem like only figments of my imagination. Like I'm a dreamer who has lost control. It makes me ponder the truth behind things like love and hate. The figments had to come from somewhere. Are the people I love just the things I love about myself? And alternately, are the people I hate just things I despise about myself? In my dreamland, I am every person there is, ever was and ever will be. I burned millions of Jews in concentration camp ovens, I bombed and wiped out an entire city to end a world war, caused by and fought against myself. I have been President of the United States 44 times and every King and Queen of England and the Commonwealth that ever lived. I invaded China and then built a Great Wall to defend against myself.

These figments come and go so quickly, I stand in awe of how rapidly I can create and destroy such unique entities. The world is a testament to my imperfectablility. I am the world and the world is me. These thoughts I have are being shared with all of the pieces of me that I have spread so thickly across the earth. We are all connected, linked, sewn together so tightly that we rarely see the stitching that binds us: an invisible thread that makes us say, "I am you and you are me and we are we and we are all in this together because we have never been apart."

These figments of my imagination. I wonder if they even know...

Questions

I have a lot of questions for people that usually go unanswered. Mostly these questions are for people I ride the bus with. Here's a sampling:

Why are you carrying a bejeweled cane? I understand that you need it to walk but why the jewels? And they're not just regular rhinestones. These are giant princess craft time jewels. Did your daughter get a hold of your cane? Why didn't you stop her?

Ma'am? Ma'am...it IS ma'am isn't it? I was thrown off by your combo- exposed bra strap and full mustache. Anyway, why are you not wearing pants? I see you have some tights on but did you forget that they go under something else or did you forget that something else at home? Or did you spill something on that something else and took it off out of embarrassment? Either way, I just wanted to tell you that it's way more embarrassing that you're not wearing pants.

........ARE YOU WEILDING A SWORD?!?!?!

Um, bus driver...you forgot that old lady in a wheel chair. Like you legit closed the door in her face. What's that? You're an asshole? Oh okay then. Carry on.

I'm sorry. Did you not see me standing here, clinging for dear life as the bus careens down the highway? No, you're right. Your newspaper needs a safer place to rest than I do.

Is it because I'm white? Is that why you asked me for a dollar but ignored the other 15 people riding the bus? Or are my sunglasses just THAT convincing that you thought I was loaded? Let me tell you, there only there so I can give you the bitch eye in private.

And those are just my questions from this afternoon....bus riders are lunatics.

Bitter

I'll be the first to admit that I hold grudges sometimes. Usually it's irrational and childish but I'll cling to that grudge like it's the last cashmere scarf at a Bloomingdale's sale. I really will. And as I'm writing this, all the grudges I have had (and some I still do) are flooding into consciousness. One of the more trivial grudges is the one I hold against all Broadway dancers on So You Think You Can Dance. I still maintain that Evan not only should have won his season but is and always will be the best Broadway dancer the show has ever seen. All others can exit stage left with the other haters, thank you.

But the biggest grudge I hold and have held on to is one against a politically conservative person. And before I go into this rant, I want to say that I understand not all conservatives are like this and that I even have a few conservative friends  and coworkers that are very dear to me (they're hard to avoid in Texas.) BUT for the sake of argument and because the type of people I'm talking about like to lump all homosexuals together, I will be doing the same thing to them.

I'm getting ahead of myself. My roommate, S, works in an office with many many conservatives. Today one of them was distraught over the fact that she had to put down one of her horses because he's old. S texted me that she was resisting the urge to make jokes about glue and jello. And I couldn't help but wonder why? Sure, she's upset but why should I spare her feelings? Did conservatives spare my feelings when I wanted to go to high school and kiss my boyfriend before we went to class? No, we got the shit kicked out of us. Did the conservatives spare my feelings when I wrote an article about being sexually attacked at a party by another man? No, they made me change the narrative to a woman's perspective. This is what I'm talking about. The double standard. And I don't mean the political double standard (because that's a post of a different color.) I'm talking about the emotional double standard. Conservatives want to protect their children from being "brainwashed" by the "homosexual agenda." But in reality they're just teaching their heterosexual children about intolerance and their homosexual children to be ashamed of something they can't control. There's a reason why homosexual teens are the leading demographic in teen suicide in the United States. So in short, no, conservatives. I will not spare your feelings and I will attack you where it hurts. Because I'm hurt. And I'm not sure if I'll ever get over it.





Okay, readers, I want all of you to know that in my rant I was speaking to a very specific type of person. There are THOUSANDS of sympathetic conservatives out there that see the double standard and genuinely want to work to change it. The world isn't full of monsters and you don't have to be afraid of everyone that says, "I vote republican." They're not all bad. Alright? So don't live in fear. And to my younger readers, don't let my rant jade you. Leave your mind open and do your best to accept everyone and find the good in them. There IS good in everyone.

10 Fictional Characters I'd Totally Date

I know, it's ASTOUNDING that in the southern coast of Texas, I can't find a quality man to date. Let me tell you. But the truth of the matter is every guy I find has something that I'm just illequipped to handle. So like every other gay man in Texas, I fall in love with fictional men...here is my list.

1) Heathcliff - Wuthering Heights
He's dark, he's brooding, he's almost always depicted with long curly locks. AND he fucking fought for Catherine like a boss. That bitch didn't know what she had. In the world of Wuthering Heights, Heathcliff's only mistake was falling in love with Catherine. And really, who could blame him for falling in love? His life was ruled by his love for her. He did everything for her.

2) Jim Halpert - The Office
There's not a woman or gay man I know that watches this show and hasn't uttered at one time or another, "I have a TV crush on Jim and I live vicariously though Pam." And if they haven't, they will now. Jim is almost too perfect. He's hilarious, adorable, sweet...not too mention he's totally willing to settle down and provide for the woman (or in my fantasy, man) that he loves.

3) William Hayes - Definitely, Maybe
Let's all just take a moment and imagine Ryan Reynolds naked....delicious. And as if that isn't enough of a reason to date him right there, Will is probably the sweetest guy ever created. He found that girl's book that her father gave to her!!! He kept it for a few years but the point is, he eventually gave it to her. He's passionate about politics. I know jack shit about politics but I love a man who has passion in his life. And honestly, who can't love a man that tells a story like the one told in Definitely, Maybe?

4) Adam - Beauty and the Beast
Betcha didn't know Beast had a name did you? Well his name is Adam...allegedly. There's still some controversy about that. And I know he is a cartoon but still. All he wanted and needed in life was true love. I can't think of anything more endearing than that. Also, he's a hot prince...helllooooooo?!

5) Bobby Drake - X-Men
If you've ever laid a hand on my arm, touched anything after I have or sat next to me on a couch, bus or plane, you know that lava runs through my veins. I'm a good 2 or 3 degrees warmer than anyone at any given time. (Trust me, it may not sound like much but it is.) So because of that fact, Bobby's power to create and manipulate ice/water is appealing. Ever since I saw him kiss Rogue and her breath was frosty afterwards, I've been lusting after him. He's also a rare eternally good person. He honestly wants to save the world but doesn't want to be showered with praise because of it.

6) Spencer Reid - Criminal Minds
I love the fact that he doesn't understand how adorable he is. I find his fact ramblings fascinating and the limits (or lack there of) of his knowledge amazing. He's sensitive but willing to do what he needs to ensure goodness prevails.

7) Legolas - The Lord of the Rings
There are many reasons to date Legolas: fierce warrior, cunning and light on his feet not to mention, he's an elf. (If you're unfamiliar with the world of Tolkien, elves are among the most beautiful creatures in the world.) He's also compassionate and level headed. He's loyal and smart and fights for the greater good.

8) Jack McPhee - Dawson's Creek
Jack is wrought with emotions and issues. With his crazy ass sister, crazy ass mother, dead brother and absentee father, Jack is a whole bag of mess. So what makes him so attractive? He was there for me. When I was coming out of the closet and wasn't sure how I was going to tell my friends, much less my parents, Jack was struggling with the same issues. And while telling my parents wasn't quite the "sobbing on the stairs screaming 'No, I will not calm down and I will not be quiet!'" scene, he was there for me afterwards when I was struggling with my parents' acceptance. He taught me how to be okay with who I am and ignore what everyone else said.

9) Augusten Burroughs - Running With Scissors
Okay, so Augusten isn't fictional. BUT I kind of imagine him to be because of the impossible life he's led and because I only know him through the books he's written. Augusten is....in a word: peculiar. I often question the validity of his stories but I can help but fall in love with the way he thinks, the way he acts, the way he talks...I find him fascinating. He reminds me of a boy I knew that thought he loved me very much but it turned out to be only lust. He's neurotic and a little bit crazy and that's why I'm drawn to him.

10) Calvin -Calvin and Hobbes
Okay, before you go off on me about him being a boy, let's just remember that he doesn't even exist. Anyway, I have to say that Calvin's naivete (because he's a boy) makes him 10 times cuter than the animators drew him to be. He sees the world with honest eyes. He's an adventurer and a dreamer. I connect with Calvin on a creative level. He's who I wish I was when I was a child.

So there's my list. 10 men that I would TOTALLY date if they existed. Now to find just ONE man that comes close to ANY of these guys...