Well, this is a mess of words and thoughts.

I was driving home the other day and thinking about a musician I had met recently. I’ve been following her music for nearly a decade and will always take the opportunity to gush about how great I think she is. Having this moment to finally meet her meant I might not be able to look and listen to her music the same way as before. The curtain would be lifted and whether or not I liked what I saw could change a very significant and emotional part of my life and memories.

After her concert, I saw a little crowd form near the exit. I immediately stopped walking and realized she was out there greeting friends and fans. I’ve seen her a couple of times before and had never got the chance to meet her, so naturally, I began sweating and getting hives and preparing my awe-inspiring speech I would yell in her direction while making too intense eye contact. I recall another time I was meeting a “hero” of mine and of this caliber, so I was excited and worried.

A Side Note: A topic I’ve always written notes about but haven’t formed into a full essay or post is that I think it’s crap how we’re constantly told to wear our passions on our sleeves and be supportive of one another, but when we actually do that, it’s almost off-putting. If I like something you’re doing, whether it be your music, art, poetry, or comedy, I will not hesitate to share it everywhere and talk about it with you or with someone who I think will like it too. For this, I get the feeling that I give off an intrusive energy. Why do I get self-conscious if I “Like” all your posts on your Facebook wall?  Who gives a fuck, you’re funny or you have great music, what does a “Like” constitute in reality? If I like your band but I don’t know you too well, I’m still going to share the shit out of your music. Maybe it’s not even a reflection of me but more so the creator of the work has both and unconscious fear of success and an unconscious fear of failure. I know that I have both, the second someone compliments me I revert to imposter syndrome. Yet, if I do well,  then I start self-sabotaging saying well, “if I succeed at this, will I be able to follow-up with something even better or will I be a one-hit wonder?” Combined with my online presence, I get the feeling my audience (mostly friends and acquaintances) have a hard time separating my jokes and written personality from the real me. Those jokes are certainly an extension of me, as a very heightened version of myself, but for god’s sake if you think I can eat as many burritos as I say I do and as often, then I would’ve been dead 4 months ago. I digress.

Back to being excited and worried about meeting a living-hero of mine. The advice “don’t meet your heroes” is meant to capture and maintain a spark and sense of wonderment about something or someone you care for. Maintaining that thrill and mystery. But I’m starting to think that’s shitty. When you meet someone you admire and they turn out to suck, doesn’t that make you think “well, this shitty person made something that is great…maybe a good person like me can make something just as great or even better.” Same thing works for if your hero turns out to be everything you wished and more. Now you get to see this human with your naked eye and shake their real-life hand and demystify the fact that they might be different from you. You are then inspired by their ambition and perseverance to create something, perhaps even to honor them. Those are all pretty good scenarios either way.

So I met her. I got to tell her about the first time I saw her music and it’s importance to me. Someone might say it’s cliché but that person clearly did not read the paragraph about me seen above. She was different from the image I had held of her and I appreciate that I know that’s not a bad thing. It was sobering to see she was someone who gave all of herself over to composing and performing. She didn’t have laser beam eyes nor have a light emanating off her body with a 4 ft range.  I immediately started separating her from me again, as if we didn’t live on the same planet at the same time, with the same opportunities. It was refreshing to have to remind myself that everything I admire and appreciate in one form of another is attainable. Also, that if it weren’t for the family, friends, and fans who speak up and express what they like openly then we wouldn’t have all these nice things and people that we do. Tehe.

What a jumble of rants here, eh?

Tell me all your thoughts please, thanks bye.

 

Fake Face, Day 30

Hey Kling-dongs. 

That’s my new brand of plastic wrap with cartoon dicks all over it. To be used to cover the left over deviled eggs at your bachelorette party. 

Do people like deviled eggs? They seem like a staple at family parties. You see them arrive in their special little caddy but you never actually see people eating them. BUT, the mystery–there are never any left over because Uncle Marty throws his hands in the air and goes “awww who ate all the deviled eggs?!” and everyone laughs, except for Aunt Edy because she and Uncle Marty had a falling out years ago, in which Marty forgot about, but Edy still shoots stingy remarks about Marty under her breath to any female relative in near proximity. No one likes Edy, she should just let it go. 

But I digress. 

DAY 30.

BLOG CHALLENGE.

QUESTION: What’s in your makeup bag? (revs blow torch, lowers mask)

As a person who dumps more money into Sephora than should be legally allowed, you’d think I’d be able to talk about all the super great things I have in my 5 different makeup bags that turn me from 8 year-old boy to 40-something drag superstar. But alas, I’m still trying to pull off  the “She’s All That” look before she actually turns “All That.”

So why do you need 3 different gold eyeliners for all those New Year’s parties you’re not going to? BECAUSE.

What about this $50 smokey eye palette? I NEEDED it and Pinterest gave me a vague idea of how to use it, so leave me alone I just want to rock the two black eyes that gorilla gave me when he punched me at the zoo. 

I enjoy makeup, but anything above “you don’t look completely dead” makes me feel like a clown. Everything in moderation. Except for things with sugar in them. You can have extra of that. 

Anyways, new topic, I have half an episode left of the X-Files and the last movie before that chapter of my life comes to a close. It’s bittersweet because X-Files was a crutch for me, BUT I mentioned that I would be starting some new (relative term) shows like Twin Peaks, The Sopranos, The Wire, etc. AND GUESS WHAT? I got a request from a lo-lite (my nickname for anyone who has ever enjoyed any of my humor in any capacity) to live-tweet my thoughts on Twin Peaks. The idea that anyone would want my opinion or reaction to anything is extraordinarily flattering. SO THANK YOU!

ONE MORE DAY LEFT OF THE BLOG CHALLENGE! 

Lolo signing off.

Until next time, my Quispy Queens.