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I was just attacked by Joe with lotion. I was making my lunch (monterey jack cheese on rolls) when all of a sudden he started moisturizing the backs of my legs. Umm... I guess they're the last part of me still peeling from the sun burn.

The [NCGLFF] has been enjoyable so far. We went to four screenings yesterday. The most amazing part of the whole thing is how many people show up in the evening. I mean, where are all these people other times of the year? I swear, I recognize maybe one or two people, and that's it. Joe says a lot of people probably come from other parts of the state. Maybe, maybe...

[Aha!] The transcript.

What kind of blogger would I be if I didn't blog this: [Bush Backs Federal Funding for Some Stem Cell Research]?

Whee hoo, a quote: "What he is talking about is using cell lines with embryos that have already been killed. We grieve the loss of those embryos, but the truth is they are gone, and we can't change that."

I guess I don't have much to say about the actual decision or what stem cell research offers since I don't know (like most reporters seem to acknowledge as a common limitation) what impact Bush's decision will actually have on such research. I still think, regardless, that it's a crying shame people "grieve the loss of those embryos" instead of grieving the loss of humanity in struggles over the definition of when life begins. But, what I noted was how Bush invoked the holy name of Ronald Reagan with Nancy Reagan's direct plea for funding stem cell research in the hopes of finding a cure for Ronnie's illness (Parkinson's?). And I started thinking again about the question of how we determine whose pleas and voices deserve our attention. Now I'm sure Mrs. Reagan is a close friend of W and the Bush family, but isn't that exactly the way conservative elites like the Bushes operate that is problematic? I mean, considering and valuing only the opinions of people you know and grew up with, no matter how worldly you may be, must always exclude the opinions and values of countless other people. In the case of people like Bush, of course, those excluded people tend to be people of color, queer folk, feminists, etc. And the only people served are those already privileged, already living in the realms of the anything-possible. Sigh...

I also kept thinking, as I sat around doing nothing about it, that I should be taping the broadcast for my class this fall. Since the second unit of the composition course is centered on "public issues" and oral communication, culminating in a non-scripted speech by students, I think this speech would do just fine as an example of what politicians do when they give speeches. In any case, I'm going to look for a full video version of the speech on the web or at the least a full text of it.

Toodle-oo.

Hurrah for the [NCGLFF]!! Joe and I just saw Webcam Boys. It really presented some engaging personalities and varying reasons for being on camera 24/7. Some of the boys' stories were very sad. In any case, in about an hour, the video film really gave me a sense of how involving online chats, webcams, and communities can be.

*GASP!* Oh my god, I almost died out there! I went outside to renew some books at the library (renewed too many times on-line already... grr...) and I swear I was about to collapse walking the five minutes between my car and the building. My throat felt like it was closing up and I couldn't breathe very easily. I guess the people on tv (and on the [web]) don't kid around when they talk about heat advisories and ozone alerts. Thank god for air conditioning.

I guess I'm not fit for this Southern climate. Give my Northern California weather any day. Who cares if there aren't any "seasons"? Seasons are SOOOO overrated, especially these damned summers.

Sometimes I feel like [Wade], the scaredy duck.

Oh my. [(the daily) dean's] posted letter reminds me of the letters I wrote when I was desperately closeted and when I finally had to tell someone about the secret. I still have somewhere in my piles of papers a sealed envelope containing the first letter I wrote to my parents disclosing the awful fact of my gayness. I remember trying to imagine their responses, trying to comfort them, trying to make sure they didn't blame themselves for how I turned out. I remember writing at the end of the letter the contact information for some local [PFLAG] groups. Why I did I'm not really sure why because I know that the last thing my parents would do is go talk to others about their gay son.

I don't think I'll be opening that envelope anytime soon. I ended up coming out to my parents over the phone a few years after I wrote that letter. It was cowardly of me, but I couldn't face them in person. I had to do it from all the way across the country, far away from any fall-out. I still regret how I handled the whole situation, but out the knowledge had to come, and it did.

Funny how I've come out to almost everyone I know by word-of-mouth, over the phone or in person. Never really in writing. The only two exceptions were two on-line friends I made. For about two years, they kept me sane as outlets for expressing my desires. I came out to a real live person in the beginning of my sophomore year in college. I came out to my best friend in college, still the most unique, trusting, envigorating, and life-loving person I have ever met. She sort of forced it out of me, a confession to explain my lack of response to the developing "us." While we had fast become close friends, I had never responded to, or indeed recognized, romantic possibility. In an effort to understand why, she confronted me upon our return to college that fall, sure that I was romantically attached elsewhere already . . . and though it was not easy, I told her that was not exactly the case, that in fact I was scared and lonely. After our talk, I wrote her a letter, apologizing for any pain I had caused her, explaining more about my confused feelings, and hoping that our friendship would continue. She later burned the letter and flushed the ashes down the toilet, pyromaniac as always.

I'm melting! I'm melting!!!

Life's a disappointment. I spent an hour and a half making snickerdoodles, only realizing as the first batch came out of the oven that I hate snickerdoodles and they're totally not what I thought I was making.

It's ten o'clock. Do you know where your children are?

I give up on being a cheerful, happy person. It doesn't do me any good. I can't infect anyone with my enthusiasm or my giddy appreciation of life. So I'm going to stop. And be my usual monotoned, apathetic self.

I wish I had taken better care of my eyes, especially in the past year. This summer has been awful. Eye strain has kept me from working as consistently on the [department web site] as I would've liked (I take long breaks from working on it to rest my eyes) and has definitely kept me from reading as much as I should've for exams and thesis. I'm trying to sit far back away from my computer screen now, but since I use a laptop, I can only sit as far away as my short arms allow. I can already feel my eyeballs screaming out in pain, and I've only just turned on my computer to check my e-mail . . .

Who'd've thought that [Port Charles] has vampires and other supernaturals? I think I've found a soap opera to watch.

Joe acts silly sometimes and it's so cute. This morning, he "acted out" some cheesy love songs I was listening to ("You Are the Sunshine of My Life" and "Time After Time"). And he was bopping around to [Ozomatli] music a little later in his swivelling seat.

Cooking really is such an art. I love experimenting with foodstuffs and trying to make palatable meals without recipes, but sometimes things just don't work out right. I tried making crispy crunchy chuletas de cerdo yesterday, but they came out soggy instead. Boo. I need much more practice and working knowledge of various cooking methods and what different ingredients do to flavor, texture, cohesion, etc.

My skin is still flaking off in little white flurries. Disconcerting to see so much of me left behind when I get out of bed . . .