This is a fic I wrote for the QAF Gift Exchange for not_yet_defined. It's a bit angsty, but I hope she likes it, and that you do too. :) Happy New Year!!

( Click here for Stuck )

Morning, folks,

I've been on Live Journal (and subsequently Insane Journal) since July of 2002. Long time. :) Ahhh, the days when Xie used to refer to me as one of those "live journal" people. hahaha.

When I started it was a place for me to deal with the demons and monsters in my psyche. Through that time, I've gotten sober, and changed a lot, and gotten a therapist. Of course, in many ways I've remained the same, and still exhibit the occasional insanity. I'm a work in progress, I guess. LOL. At some point, it turned more into a place for fandom, and following all the fabulous creativity that the ladies of QAF exhibit.

I haven't been journaling for a while though. I guess it started some time ago when I got a very nasty comment from a member of the fandom basically telling me to shut up and quit whining. Basically I told her to go fuck herself and to get off my journal, which she promptly did, but ever since then, every time I think about journaling something here, I get shy and withdrawn, so I don't. And the honest truth is that she was mostly right. I did need to quit whining, and get a therapist. ;)

I'm going through some medical stuff now, and will be going through it for the next 6 months to a year, and I wanted to document it and my life while I'm going through it, especially the artistic side of things as a way of grounding myself in healing and not fear. Unfortunately, I haven't felt safe enough to do it here. I know that it's irrational, after all, where exactly is anybody safe on teh interwebs? But I'm going to honor those feelings, rather than just not do anything, as I really need to keep my monsters and demons out of my head over the next year. And honestly, with a few exceptions, I think most of my real life friends would rather I just go away and deal with the stuff, and then come back when I'm all better because it makes them uncomfortable. Even if I am misreading that, I would rather do it that way, as I'm not particularly fond of being weak. If I could just stay in my house for the next nine months, I think I would, and be totally okay with that. But that's probably not the healthiest thing to do, so this is a way to keep a tether into the real (virtual?) world.

So, on that note, I've started a new blog called www.yearofcreativehealing.blogspot.com. I like blogspot's interface, as it's much easier to update from multiple computers. I think. I hope. The ironic thing is that it's under my full name with my real pictures on it, so it certainly isn't anonymous, which will give me a reason to censor myself to sane levels.

I'll still be lurking here and on Live Journal of course, and commenting on your journals and stories, on occasion, because that's what I do. You're welcome to read the new blog or not. I'm honestly not writing it to build a readership, but if somebody wants to follow along, hey, I'm down with it. :)

See ya around!
Travis

Heya, folks,

In 2007, I participated in a Queer as Folk fanfic challenge, and wrote a story called "The Dreamer." Hard to believe it's been that long. I just reread it, and it's pretty damned good, even almost four years later.

http://community.livejournal.com/qaf_challenges/49761.html

I don't know why I'm reposting it. I guess just to remind myself that I can write, and that maybe I should try my hand at another story, fan-related or original.

Travis

Morning, folks,

I saw a local high school production of “The Laramie Project” last night. First of all, can I say how far the world has come that a high school can do a theatrical piece of work like this? Back in the 80's, when I was in high school, it wouldn’t have happened. While I had never seen it onstage, I had seen the film version, and remember Christina Ricci's performance with great fondness.

I have to say that I was impressed by the level of passion and ability of all involved. There were some really wonderful moments by various cast members, and I found myself moved by the show as a whole. While there are many standout moments, the actor who played Fred Phelps was uncanny in his ability to capture the essence and the mannerisms of that evil bastard. I know because I wanted to punch him in the face, as I do every time I see or hear Fred Phelps. The actor who played Matthew Shepherd really showed some acting chops, especially in the last monologue.

Another interesting thing is that I spent half the evening remembering when Matthew Shepherd was killed. I remembered listening to the news reports. I remembered hoping that he would pull through. I remembered being at the impromptu candlelight vigil in West Hollywood. I remembered how much the whole situation terrified me, and I remembered how inarticulate I was in explaining my reactions to it to people, especially the straight people in my life.

The teenagers in the audience and their reactions to the show really impressed me. Three boys, who were probably about 16, sat caddy-corner to me. The spent the last half of the show sniffling and crying. They were completely unashamed of how much they were moved. There wasn’t a trace of the machismo bullshit that so often plagues members of my own gender. I, myself, was moved, not only by the material, but by them, and wanted to put my hand on the shoulder of the boy nearest to me and give him some words of wisdom and comfort. I realized that that’s probably a bit creepy, so I didn't. Instead, I spent the majority of the time after the show watching him interact with his friends, and seeing him continuing to be moved and in tears and being up front and honest about it. Later I thought, “gee watching this kid is kinda creepy,” but I learned a lot. I realized that he already had all the wisdom and comfort he needed within himself. At 16. He's doing much better than I ever did, and my hat is off to him.

Regardless of how much the media constantly tells us that teens are either bullies or victims of bullies, my experience of them, both straight and gay and all the colors in between, tells me that there is great hope for our world. That hope is not coming from our current (or near future) crop of politicians or leaders. It’s coming from the young people who are turning out to be more rounded, more in touch with themselves, more willing to be themselves publicly, and more compassionate then ever before. I truly believe they will make the world a much better place, and I take great comfort in that.

Travis

Morning, folks,

About fifteen years ago, I had just moved from West Hollywood back to my hometown in order to deal with my new, and often-times rocky journey into sobriety. My ex-roommate and best friend (who would later become my wife, then ex-wife, then a decade later, an ex-friend) wanted to know if I would be willing to take a cat that she had rescued as her other cats were beating her up. I said sure.

Jasmine came to live with me, and stayed through four moves and a decade and a half and many transitions in my life. I would guess she was between one and two years old when I met her.

I called her the Dowager Empress because she was always the oldest animal in my house, and spent a great deal of her life sitting up high looking down on the rest of us. She had a sense of royalty about her.

I wish I could say we always had a great relationship. We didn’t always. She didn’t like to be held until later on in her life, and as I was fucked up in many ways, I can’t say that I treated her as well as I could have for that entire time. Interestingly enough, my friend, Michael, taught her how to be held, and after meeting him, she got much less pissed off when I would pick her up and cuddle with her. I remember once after physically losing my temper a bit at her for something, I picked her up and hugged her tight and cried like I hadn’t cried in a long time because I so didn’t want to be that person anymore. She seemed to understand, and only meowed to be let down a little bit. While I can’t say I was perfect, our relationship changed a lot after that, and we became much closer, and I think (hope) that I treated her with more respect and love and lost my temper with her much more rarely. She spent a lot more time burrowed on top of me while watching television or sleeping at night, and I even heard her purr a time or two, something she did very rarely.

Coincidently, as I started getting through the heavy cloud of shame and fear that clung to me after getting sober, and as I started letting more and more people into my life and my house, she decided that she really liked sitting in people’s laps. She would eye every person that came over for lap potential. She eventually ended up in almost everybody’s laps, or at least did a damned good job of trying. However, she was a bit crotchety, and you would never know when she would bat at you because she didn’t like how you were petting her. And with the exception of Michael and once in a while, me, she did NOT want to be picked up by anybody. She laid down the terms and that was THAT. End of story.

Once a guest of mine really did NOT want her sitting in his lap or even getting close to him, and I told her, “Jasmine, not everybody wants you sitting in their lap!” My guest said, “Some people have allergies.” I eventually had to put her upstairs in my bedroom, because, like me, she was stubborn, and wanted what she wanted and that’s all that mattered. Interestingly enough, that guest hasn’t been back to my house. For all my faults (and there are many), people who find themselves at odds with my pets, don’t spend a lot of time in my house after that fact becomes known. Because while I pay the mortgage, the pets are the ones that really own the place. Respect and love me and my animals. Oftentimes, the respect and love of me is optional, however, respecting and loving my animals is not.

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that Jasmine seemed to be a bit weak on her haunches. I didn’t quite trust my senses though because she always recovered quickly, and she had NO problem jumping up on the couch or the bed to sleep on top of me. It was sort of like seeing it out of the corner of my eyes, and by the time I focused on it, it had passed.

I had taken her to the vet about 4 months ago, and the vet thought she looked great for her age and her blood work came back pretty unremarkable, so I pretty much figured that this was just a by-product of being 17 years old. Plus, I’m really broke right now, and taking a trip to the vet is always daunting and stressful to me. I literally start to hyperventilate when I think about it. I have the same feeling about going to my doctor, by the way, just so you know.

Over the past couple of days, she seemed more and more lethargic, and I noticed that she was drinking a lot of water, and I had made a mental note to get her to the vet when I could, which would have to be when I got paid again.

Unfortunately, yesterday when I woke up, she wouldn’t move off the couch. When I picked her up to put her by the food bowl for her breakfast, she couldn’t stand and just huddled by the water bowl, a heart breaking sight. As it was early in the morning, when I tried to call the vet, they weren’t open, and their phone system automatically transferred me to the emergency clinic. Since it was so close to them opening, I decided to wait. I kept calling back and calling back, but the emergency clinic kept answering. Finally at about 8:45, I thought to look on the web and see if I had the right number. Turns out, I didn’t, I still have no idea why. So, I dialed the correct number, and made an appointment to bring her right in. I then spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out how much money I could pull together for this; the final tally came to about $300.

The vet came in, and was very shocked at her appearance. I was shocked to find out Jasmine had lost a third of her body weight since I had brought her in before. The vet and I had a long conversation, and the vet narrowed it down to diabetes or kidney disease, both of which require a lot of treatment and a lot of money. Having treated my other cat for kidney disease, I know what’s involved and how difficult it is for both the cat and the human. Also, given her age, and her general level of crotchetyness (some might call it psychosis) the very difficult decision was made to put her to sleep.

As I’ve done with many of my animals and some friends’ animals over the years, I was there with her throughout the process. I held her on my chest while the sedative was administered, and about fifteen minutes, I petted her face and cried while the last shot was given. She passed very peacefully, barely moved through it all. I cried a lot and talked to her in my heart (I always feel like an idiot talking out loud to an animal in a vet’s office for some reason). Then after a bit of time to get myself together, I took her carrier, settled the bill with the vet (who was gracious enough to only charge me for the exam, not the euthanization) and went home to do some more crying and then get to work.

Jasmine, rest in peace, and thank you so much for sticking with me for so long, and making me a better person through your presence. Please know that you were loved, and that you will always be missed. I hope you’re playing with Branagh and Figaro and Jett and so many others somewhere near the Rainbow Bridge. I also hope to feel you sitting on my lap again when I get there.

Travis

Heya, folks,



Thanks to Joe.My.God for posting.

Travis

Folks,

We’ve been awash in a sea of media coverage of the suicide deaths of LGBTQ and LGBTQ-perceived youth over the past couple of weeks, and I've been awash in a sea of sadness about it.

This has spurred several video projects on Youtube, including Dan Savage’s “It Gets Better” http://www.youtube.com/user/itgetsbetterproject and also a wonderful project called Make it Better at http://makeitbetterproject.org/

I’ve been wondering how to contribute to this, and have been having a hard time figuring out what to say that hasn’t already been said brilliantly and by people far more influential than I am. So, I figured I’d just put down my thoughts here and see where it goes.

I’ve struggled with fear of being hurt by other people, as well as the feelings of being different and not worthy all of my life. I still do. Honestly. It didn't all get better once I got out of my teens. A lot got better, but not all of it.

As a teenager, I was much more on the effeminate side of things, plus I was the smart kid, and things were especially difficult for me as I tried to figure out who I was and what it meant to be attracted to guys. With slightly different circumstances, I could have been one of the statistics that are horrifying us today.

I was fortunate that when my life was being made very difficult by other kids, I had several teachers that took me in, stood up for me, and gave me a safe place to hang out during lunches. They gave me a place where I felt like I belonged. I was also very fortunate that they imbued in me a sense of learning and an appreciation for some of my gifts, intellectual and otherwise. Later in high school, I found myself befriended by kids who were stronger, more popular than I, or in the same boat as I was. I also joined some groups that gave me a sense of belonging, such as choir, the school musical productions, an inter-school group of kids that did volunteer work around Southern California by reaching out to other teens to help share tips for self-esteem, etc. It all got me through.

Here’s what I want to tell you. Yes, you, that teenager, that young adult, that older person that is remembering the pain of their younger years and is afraid to be all that they can be now. Yes you. The ones where are picked on, called hurtful names, bullied, beaten, threatened, and taking to heart the hateful things that are being said by insensitive politicians, and so-called religious leaders. Here’s what I want to tell myself too. Those people and ideas are evil. Pure and simple.

If we kill ourselves or let them make us feel like you we aren’t good enough, they win. Evil wins. I’m not exaggerating or speaking in hyperbole.

Don’t let evil win. Be strong, find help, reach out, read and educate yourself about the rich history of people who made loving, strong, lives for themselves despite being ostracized or loving people that they shouldn’t. Read about Alexander the Great. Read about the berdache in the Native American tradition. Read about the history of the LGBT in the United States. Find out how far we’ve come. Learn about Harvey Milk. Find the stories of the brave people who have made their lives about love despite the difficulties and dangers they faced. Investigate the rich history of the civil rights movement in this country. Find those of similar interests and learn to laugh, love and smile with the amazing gift that life can be. Trust me, those gifts and those people are out there. It’s going to be difficult, because life is difficult, and there is no magic wand that makes it better once you get out of high school, but at least you have more freedom to make your own way. But you can begin to make your own magic wand right now. Take action, no matter how small. Let’s make it better for ourselves and for the people that come after us.

To you people out there see somebody getting picked on or bullied or hurt. Help them. Find a way to make the world a bit brighter for somebody. Don’t let evil win. I’m begging you.

To those of you who are doing evil by hurting people. Stop it. Stop it right now. Find another way to deal with yourself. Get help for your own issues. Life is hard for you too. I get it. But I’m going to be honest here and tell you that if your friends or your god are telling you to hurt people that are different than you or that they are less than you or are abominations, find other friends and find another god. At the very least, stop listening to the force you call satan. I’m serious. If you don’t, you can kiss my ass and the asses of all the people you’re trying to hurt, because the compassion of the people you are torturing is running low, and we’re pissed. I'm pissed.

The bottom line? Stop the evil. Don’t let it win. Make the world a better place.

Travis

Hiya, folks,

Despite my sadness over the past couple of weeks from the suicides of the young people reported in the media, and my struggle over the past couple of years at the horrendous and hateful public rhetoric about people like me, I am more and more impressed with the current teen generation and I completely applaud kids like this. I wish I was (especially as a teen) as brave, smart, proactive and as loving as they are. Check it out.



Travis

Well, Justin cancelled our "date" tonight because Sunday was his birthday, and he ended up in Vegas, accidently. ;)

Ahhh, youth.

Travis

Happy birthday!!!

http://vl-redreign.insanejournal.com/

Sends a really big hug your way!!

Travis

I'm going to dinner with a 25 year old gay man named Justin on Monday. I met him online. He contacted me. It's a quasi "date."

I feel like my last name just changed to Kinney, only I didn't get the hair or the arms to go along with it. Fortunately, I only have half the neuroses.

This is tres weird.

Travis

Good afternoon, folks,

Well, it looks like I’ve just lost a friend that I’ve had since 1992. Thank you, Dan.

This morning, I got an IM from D (not Dan), telling me that Dan Savage had said that a woman should lose her kids because she was fat. I immediately ask what the context of that statement is.

Here is the article.

http://slog.thestranger.com/slog/archives/2010/03/15/they-dont-mention-if-her-kid-has-been-taken-from-her

Huge argument ensues. My point being that 1) nobody is going to take her kids away from her and 2) anybody deliberately trying to get to a weight of 1,200 pounds to get into a frickin’ record book is not only putting herself but possibly her child in danger. Her point being that nobody should make the point that somebody should take somebody’s children away just because she’s fat.

Honesty forces me to admit that the very idea of somebody deliberately becoming 1200 pounds, spending $3,000 on food a MONTH, and paying for it by running a website where people pay to watch her eat fast food is disgusting. I’m sorry, it just is to me. I’ve struggled with my weight and watched so many friends of mine struggle with their weight, and the attendant depression and self-hatred for too many years to think that can be emotionally healthy. Let's put aside the physical health issues.

I don’t think I have a problem with fat people. I’ve been fat, and, in many circles, especially in the gay world, I AM STILL fat, and will always be fat. That’s fine. I’ve had many, many friends that are fat, and are happy to be that way, and I love and adore them, and, beyond all that, I ardently support their right to be fat and happy, and would be the first one to take somebody to task for saying an unkind word about them, then and now.

So, after hours of stewing, I thought and thought, and came to the conclusion that this woman has the right to be 1,200 lbs., even though at that weight, she won’t be able to function well, if at all, and that I think her child will be adversely affected by it, and it could be dangerous for both of them.

But I’m still pissed off. Because, yet again, I’m drawn into an argument that I can’t win, have no business making, and is none of my frickin’ business. I don’t LIKE looking like an asshole. I don’t LIKE having my prejudices shoved down my goddamned throat, preferring to deal with them in my own pace and in my own time, and without the seemingly gleeful enjoyment of the person pushing the fucking buttons, friend or not. Especially when I am working 24/7 and spending $400 to $500 a month to a therapist to try to eliminate those same fucking prejudices.

So, I sent her an IM, saying, “Yes, you’re right, Dan Savage shouldn’t have said that her children should be taken away from her,” and then I signed off because I didn’t want to continue the conversation. Two seconds later my telephone at work rings, and she is wondering what’s wrong. I tell her that I am indeed pissed off, as I got forced into making an argument I didn’t want to have to make. She interrupted me and said, “I think we’re going to have to end this friendship ...” So, I immediately said, “fine, goodbye” and hung up the telephone.

Which is EXACTLY why I fucking HATE talking about politics and religion and social hot topics like this. Because it immediately becomes personal, and my head turns spins around, and I forget that my job in all of this is to listen, smile, nod, and say, “of course, you’re right.” And then yet another friend, acquaintance or family member has made their way out the revolving doors that represent the relationships in my life, and I’m left struggling with my own fucking emotional fallout.

All I can say is, “thank you, Dan Savage” and goodbye to D. May you find your life blessed and happy.

Travis

Hiya, folks,

Some of you might remember that I played Charlie Brown in a production of Snoopy, the Musical! last summer.

Here's a clip of the cast doing the "Easter Beagle" vignette, which goes into my solo, "Where Did That Little Dog Go?"

Enjoy!



Travis

Hiya, gentle readers,

I'm so proud to announce that on February 2, 2010, I will be performing my very own cabaret, called "Headin' to the Chapel, the Middle of the Journey!" in Hollywood.



It's going to be me, a piano played by a wonderfully talented woman by the name of Debbie Lawrence, and the other singers who are joining me onstage: Leslie Duke, Jake Wesley Stewart and Cloie Taylor. I'm so honored to have such talented and amazing friends with me onstage.

It will be the celebration of my 42nd birthday and a bit of a musical journey, loosely based on me and my life as a gay man. Not to mention some of my favorite music to sing.

Here's the info:

Date: February 2, 2010

Time: 7:00 doors open for dinner and drinks. 8:00 is when the show starts. Get there early to get a good seat and a bite to eat.

Place: The M Bar and Restaurant

Address: 1253 Vine Street, Los Angeles, CA 90038 (on the corner of Vine and Fountain in Hollywood).

Reservations: (323) 856-0036 (please remember to make reservations so the restaurant knows how many are coming).

Cost: $10 cover charge, and a $10 food minimum (not a drink minimum).

I'd love to see you all there. :)

Travis

Current Mood: excited

Morning, gentle readers,

I’m just not in the Christmas spirit this year.

A Christmas Carol with Jim Carrey, directed by Robert Zemeckis almost put me in the mood, but didn’t quite do it. It’s a wonderful movie, by the way, with beautiful animation, stunning acting, and is a really wonderful adaptation of the classic Christmas story.

I’ve been trying to figure out what’s keeping me from it. Although I don’t identify as Christian, and haven’t for many years; the celebrations at this time of year, are much older than Christianity, and are not just limited to that faith. Normally, I enjoy a holiday camaraderie with my fellow man, and enjoy the hope that along with the rebirth of the sun’s cycle around the earth, this will be the year when we will all learn how to treat our fellows a bit better, and become a kinder, gentler and more giving people.

This year, I haven’t been able to access any of that. The most accurate description of what’s in my heart seems to be when I say “my favorite part of Christmas is when it’s over.”

The season’s hope has been buried under the morass of fear and anger lodged in my heart. It’s about to become punishable by death to be gay in Uganda, and a good portion of people who call themselves religious people, even here in this country, shrug their shoulders, point at Leviticus as justification, and go on about their day. In state after state, people are voting to bar gay folks from getting legally married to a partner of their choice to protect their legal and familial rights. Because heaven forbid, two people of the same gender who love each other, and want to protect each other from the world should get a bit of help from society. It’s bad enough that supposedly devout, pious religious leaders can stand in their pulpits and call us the most vile of names in the name of God, but continually stripping away and denying of human rights seems to be the cause du jour.

Somebody who is virulently anti-gay, described homosexuality as “one man violently cramming his penis into another man’s lower intestine and calling it ‘love.’” See http://americansfortruth.com/news/liberty-counsel-may-lead-pullout-of-cpac-if-homosexual-group-goproud-remains-as-co-sponsor.html. Not to mention the liberal use of standard fare like “sinful” “evil” “aberrant,” etc. Upon hearing this, I thought to myself, “Really? That’s all that love is about in their world? The physical act of fucking? That’s it? And it’s violent?” Maybe I'm not the only one who needs therapy.

More and more, the religion of the Christ seems to be more about hatred towards anybody that’s even a bit different, and the guilt-free beating of other people (physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually) than anything else. Scarily enough, the more they hate and try to hurt me and those like me, the more I feel backed into a corner, trapped by an angry mob, and the more I contemplate giving back in kind. The more I hate. The more I rail against divinity, in any form. I find myself running just as fast as I can from any type of religious teachings these days. My gut reaction when somebody says anything even remotely religious is “fuck you and the god you rode in on.”

I don’t want to be that guy. The red eyed, angry, bitchy, temperamental and increasingly hateful man who takes offense at everything. It’s not good for my soul. I’m trying to learn how to love better, not hate more. I’m trying to be more accepting for the foibles and the glorious humanity of those around me, and to patiently work to make the world a better place.

“Trying” is the operative phrase in the above paragraph. My confession to you today is that I’m not doing particularly well at any of those things right now.

For those of you who say that the Ugandan legislation is in Africa, and that it could never happen here in the United States, I’ll remind you that the German folks said the same thing in the earlier part of the last century.

I wonder why I’m frightened.

Having said all of that, I'm trying to find a LGBT organization to do some volunteer work for on Christmas Day. Might as well turn my fear to something positive.

Travis

Good evening, folks,

I just got home and checked the mail and found out that Citibank is raising the interest rate on my credit card (which I have NEVER been late on, and as a matter of fact have a balance about half of my limit) from a fixed rate of 9.99% to an APR of 29.99%. That's an increase of 20%. TWENTY PERCENT. Their explanation is that to continue to provide customers with access to credit, they have to adjust their pricing. 20% is, in my opinion, usurious charges. I closed my account to lock in the current rate that I have so I can pay it off. Oh, get this, they have a program that let's me get a credit for 10% of that interest if I make my minimum payment on time. Even taking into account that lovely little program, it's still a raise of TEN PERCENT.

I was told to have a happy holiday season.

Citibank can kiss my ass this holiday season.

Travis

Is anybody else loving Glee like I am. I'm so mad I forgot to record the whole episode last night, as I was at a show, but SO happy that I got to see this clip. I was so happy I literally cried. I'm a freak. ;)



Travis

Good afternoon, gentle readers,

As most of you know, Xie's mom, Kathleen, passed away. I find myself very sad about it. For Xie, because I know how much she loved her mother and how much she will miss her. But I'm also sad for myself.

I've known Xie's mom for as long as I've known Xie. 12 years now? Somewhere around there. Almost every time I'd see Xie, I'd see Kathleen. She was a lovely lady with a sparkle in her eye and a quick laugh that I've always associated with the Irish. She always had a smile and a great big hug for me. She's one of those people who seems to listen when in a conversation, and to care about what one says. She loved her dogs as much as Xie did, and I was privileged to be able to go on many walks with her and the dogs on the occasions I got to visit.

I must admit that I was always a bit jealous of the caring relationship Xie and Kathleen had. Now, I'm no fool, and I know they had their squabbles and differences on occasion. But they always seemed to be there for each other, and able to count on each other. A real blessing.

I once remarked to Xie that Kathleen was the only straight person I'd consider taking on a gay cruise because I was absolutely sure we'd have a BLAST!!

After hearing that she was sick and very close to the end, I had a dream, as I often do, given the medications I have to take. I woke in tears, and thinking that in my heart of hearts, I thought of her as "San Franciscan Royalty." Now, that didn't make sense at the time, but as I thought about it, it does. She and her family are native San Franciscans, and although I don't live in that end of the state, I always sort of look up to them as my link to San Francisco's (and therefor California's) old-guard. As far as the royalty part goes, one only needed to have spoken with Kathleen about her city to get how much a part of it she was, and how much a part of her it was.

Most of all, her passing, while sad, has given me yet another occasion to remember how much I truly love her daughter, and how grateful I am that she is my friend. One of my best friends. A special woman and friend that I look up to and honor every day. I hope she knows that.

Rest in Peace, Kathleen, you will be missed more than you know, and thank you for being a part of my life.

Afternoon, gentle readers,

I had an echocardiogram of and a stress test on my heart done this morning.

( Read more. )

Anybody recognize the judge? ;)



Travis