Monday, March 24, 2008 | by nathan

Projects: A Clean, Well-Lighted [Bed]Room

Once upon a time, mine & Brian’s bedroom looked like this. (Please, only look for just a second; the embarrassment is killing me.)

That was last year, when I had begun to feel sort of irritated about our house. My Uberlist this year is full of things, plans, specific things to do in our home to make it feel less like we’re just crashing there and more like a place we own, where we live, where we make a home. We’ve lived in this house for over 2 and a half years, after all. It’s time to stop treating it the way we treated our early-twenties apartments and dorm rooms, as basically just storage spaces waiting to be packed up again at the end of a year.

It’s worth noting here that this is the home of two guys - homosexuals, yes, but guys - and guys are messy.

From this photo you can clearly see that the biggest problem is laundry, followed closely by storage. Step One was for us to just make a concerted effort to actually do the laundry more often, which we did. But still, the stuff seemed to spread. When we got the new bedspread, things looked nicer:

But this didn’t entirely solve our problem. We had all this floor space, see, and from where this photo is taken you can’t see it, but the laundry is still out, still there, still lurking and overflowing its hampers. So last weekend we went and had ourselves a nice little IKEA orgy. And for one, we replaced that lumpy old bed and clapboard-looking bedside tables with this sexy beast:

Some of the good things about this bed? Even though it’s using our same old box spring and mattress, it’s about eighty gazillion times more comfortable than the old one. Also, the new lamps are wonderful because no matter how wildly I flail my arms at the sound of my morning alarm, I won’t knock them off and shatter them, which I’ve done to no fewer than three lamps since we’ve lived in this house. Also? Because it sits right on the ground we won’t ever find another horrifying dust bunny under the bed, never, ever again. I mean, hypothetically. You’ll notice the walls are bare; I plan on framing some of my better black and white prints to hang in here. Feel free to let me know if there are any you like.

We also got a new dresser; I didn’t get a photograph of it, but here it is:

It now sits where our laundry had once begun to pile up on our heads. We’ve moved that whole mess into the closet and organized the absolute shit out of it, which means that not only is it not physically able to overflow, but it’s easy to get done once it starts to. The final piece was our upstairs half-bath, which I’m a little ashamed to post photos of in the "before" stage; let’s just say that these West Elm shelves ($20!!) have done wonders in the 24 hours they’ve been up. They’ve redeemed our fragile psyches from the edge of the pit of despair:

Brian will tell you that getting these shelves up on that wall was a feat of engineering akin to building the pyramids at Giza. What he won’t tell you - and I will, because I’m all about keeping it real - is that behind all those toiletries are three centimeter-wide holes in the wall from the first attempt. But oh well; it’s all about presentation. And about not keeping the toothbrushes in a place where they occasionally get knocked into the toilet, only to have to be immediately replaced.

So except for getting some neat decoratey things - photo frames for some of our pictures, etc. - we finally feel like our bedroom is a place we want to spend time. It’s such a strange and welcome change that we’re sort of still figuring out what that means. Also, you’ll be happy to know that there’s a load of laundry running as I write this, and more to be done tonight. Folks, I think the Laundry Monster has been subdued.

Monday, March 24, 2008 | by nathan

In Bloom

Sunday, March 23, 2008 | by nathan

An Easter Bouquet For You

Saturday, March 22, 2008 | by nathan

Whilst Listening to an NPR Story About Lent

Me: I gave up trips to the moon for Lent.

B: Oh yeah?

Me: That’s right. No trips to the moon for the past six weeks. What did you give up?

B: Sex with women.

Saturday, March 22, 2008 | by nathan

Hooch! Hooch!

I saw this in the bargain bin at Urban Outfitters in Dallas and threw a girl fit, as in OMG I MUST HAVE IT! I got a lovely flask from my friend Eric when I was in his wedding, but this one is smaller and a bit easier to hide, so I said, ring it up. It for sure will be making an appearance at this year’s OKC Gay Pride Parade.

Friday, March 21, 2008 | by nathan

Sam Fridays: Wherein Sam Gets A Visitor

Why is Sam so happy? For one, it’s Good Friday, and this poor dog has a whole lot to be thankful for. But also, he’s got to spend the week with his favorite dog in the whole wide world, his "girlfriend" Hera, who has been staying with us this week as her owners, Jaye and Laurie, are spending the week in Austin in celebration of Laurie’s birthday. [I’ve been told to say that she’s turning 19 this year.]

See what a pretty girl Hera is? Also, she’s bursting with life and energy, and the same cannot be said for any other member of this household. Living with Hera is a bit like living with a big, red-haired tornado. She’s about 3 years old, and her turn-ons include GETTING EXCITED ABOUT EVERYTHING. You want to get up from your seat and go get a glass of water? Expect Hera to get stoked about it and start running in circles. Want to eat a little cup of yogurt out of the fridge? Expect Hera to spend the ENTIRE TIME standing on her back legs, her front paws in the air, wanting to get in on some of that. She rubs off on Sam, too, who I think is just trying to keep up to impress her.

The best part about having Hera around is that Sam does things he’d NEVER normally do, like, say, go in a crate. He’d never do this for us, and believe me, we’ve given up trying, but behold!

He just wants his lady to know that there’s nothing he’s afraid of. Of course, she never heard him whine and cry when he had to go in his crate all by himself. Seriously, people get on to me about it, but giving up crate training with Sam was the healthiest and best thing we could’ve done for ourselves and for him. And yet - here he is. They’re quite the pair, these two, and though Hera is a hurricane of dog whirling at you day and night, we enjoy having her because of how much Sam loves getting to chill with another dog. See how much he likes her?

Friday, March 21, 2008 | by nathan

Sunburst Wire Wall Art

I love West Elm, and as we’re trying to get our house, in which we’ve lived for almost 3 years, to look like a place people might actually live, I ordered this piece to hang above our fireplace. We hung it very off-center but are really, really pleased with how it looks. It’s available at the West Elm site.

Thursday, March 20, 2008 | by nathan

Vignettes

What are the moments in your life that walk with you? The formative ones, the stories you’re always telling? In an effort to challenge myself to become a better writer I’m going to try to tell some of these stories, to share some of these moments as concisely as possible. Sarah Brown is the queen of this; definitely read her "Impressions" series, but as she’s a really, really hard act to follow, do me a favor and read mine first.

We’re sitting in her car, and she’s crying. I’ve cried over this stuff enough, though I’m just barely holding it together after she’s just told me that I’m going to be excommunicated for being gay. Honestly, if it wasn’t so deeply sad, if I wasn’t feeling so insanely guilty for hiding it from her all these years, I’d find it incredibly funny. We’re Protestants, I think to myself. We don’t excommunicate. Only it’s not funny - it’s the moment I’ve dreaded. She’s hurt because I didn’t tell her for all this time, and I’m hurt because she doesn’t realize that I knew all along that when I told her that this is how it would go down. It’s my worst fear come to life. Finally I tell her that we’re not going to solve anything like this, that there’s no point in talking right now because emotions are running way too high, and I get out of the car, feeling guilty and low. As I’m walking back to my apartment someone shouts my name; two of my friends have their heads out the window of their apartment, and when I look up they toss a water balloon at me. It’s just some harmless fun; any other day I’d find it hilarious. For now, I am defeated. When I get back to my room I don’t cry, but I wish I could.

I’m staring at a computer screen in Creative Writing class when I hear my name whispered somewhere behind me. If I was a dog, my ears would perk up; as it is, the activity on the screen freezes and I can’t help but listen; as is common in high school, people are talking behind my back without bothering to check whether or not I can hear them. "Constantly!" shouts the girl in the conversation, who I’d long considered a close friend. "He is constantly eavesdropping on me!" She has a point, I suppose; I was, except that her naturally-loud voice carries through the classroom. And despite the fact that I’d been putting a lot of distance between us for a long time, that she was the first person to teach me that friendship is so often one-sided, it hurts. Until I hear the teacher mutter under her breath, heard only by me, "It’s not eavesdropping if everyone in the goddamn room can hear you." Then, I feel better.

He has found a pad on which I’ve written an entire treatise, a letter to myself saying, basically, "Nathan, you’re gay, and can you not see that Jesus is so totally okay with you?" I felt better after writing it; so cleansed and refreshed, in fact, that I’d left it behind in the room where our fellowship group had gathered. A day later he shows up at my room, the pad in his hand, saying, "I think we should talk, because I found this, and I didn’t really mean to read it, it’s just I was trying to figure out who it belonged to. Anyway, let’s take a walk." I’m dreading it, but I trust him. We take off down through Reynolda Gardens and he tells me that he’s been dealing with the same thing, but no one can ever know. I promise to keep his secret. We walk through the thick, humid spring air, magnolias and crocuses blooming all around us, the trails quiet. When we take a break and sit, he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his bag. I smile and say, "I’m just learning all sorts of things about you today."

Like any writing project, this one turned out very differently than I anticipated. I didn’t mean for any of these to necessarily be sad; I just thought of three tiny little stories and told them in the order they came to me. What are some of the moments that have shaped you?

Thursday, March 20, 2008 | by nathan

Diamond in the Rough

I’m not sure why I came up with this title for this photo - it’s just a bottle of Crown Royal lying in the street near the Dallas St. Patrick’s Day Parade. I didn’t even like the photo much at all, but when I started playing with it in Photoshop I fell in love with the image.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008 | by nathan

We Are Here To Be Writers

One of my favorite bloggers, The Palinode, marked the five-year-and-two-month anniversary of his blog by sorta throwing the gauntlet down at himself, challenging himself to be a better writer.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, as I constantly get frustrated with myself for not dedicating as much time to my writing as I should. Life gets in the way, you see, as it tends to do. Bills have to be paid, work has to be done, dogs have to be walked, and that Whole Situation at the gym must be attended to, lest the Whole Situation just above the waist of my pants gets fatter. Also, I have a guy that I love to whom I enjoy paying attention.

All these things - and my own deeply-felt need to procrastinate - stand between me and my dream of being a full-time writer. I wonder sometimes the degree to which this blog does the same thing, though I enjoy the whole endeavour so much that I don’t see giving it up any time soon.

But having a novel halfway done that you can’t seem to find time for feels a whole lot like being constipated. This weekend I started thinking about this story I’m trying to write and really doubting myself; Bad Mind kicked in, letting me know how incredibly infantile the story is and how it’s going to be ridiculed from Day One, provided it ever gets out, which it won’t, because it’s crap.

I’ve transitioned past that now and am currently trying to be more intentional about making time and space for writing. This has been complicated by the fact that our house is a wreck in the wake of our IKEA orgy - there are cardboard boxes and bubble wrap and hand-drawn instructions everywhere, not to mention last week’s laundry that hasn’t been put away, two dogs who are bursting with life and energy and a Nightline profile of Barack Obama as well as last night’s episode of Jericho I have yet to see.

Life gets in the way, sometimes, kiddies, but I’m bound and determined not to let it. If I have to, tonight I’ll stay up way past my bedtime, and even if I only write 500 words at least I’ll be able to say I did something, today, in pursuit of the dream.