Soak it up

On June 27th I celebrated my birthday. Actually it was really celebrated on 16th. On June 22nd, Gay Pride was celebrated and I sobered up out of that blackhole sometime on June 29th around 5:30 pm....ish. On June 30th, a big gaggle of faggles got into two rent-a-wrecks and headed to Ptown for five days of glorious sunshine and reality-show-level dramatics. Lets just say that many gays cried, make-up was smeared, and we all left that town with plenty of war stories, sore noses, and new friends (and for some of us, less friends)

On my actual birthday, June 27th, I had to run an errand for my boss here at the magazine. I walked into Midtown and the expanse of New York just seem to envelope me.

Those kind of moments happen every so often. When life becomes apparant, and you realize that shit....this is your life. And I started to cry. I couldn't fucking help it.

And it wasn't like I was outright sobbing like some fucking nut. But I was tearing up. I had to wipe away the tears and avoid eye contact.

Because I had one of those moments when it hits me how lucky I am. I've had an amazing ride so far, and if I were to die tonight, I could say that I've lived a great life, and I thank God for letting me be the crazy little shit that I've been. But I'd have to say His biggest gift has been the amount of love I've had. From my friends, my family, and all my ex-boyfriends (especially the big one).

And I can say this after 4th of July in Ptown, which was quite honestly akin to a stay at Abu Ghraib prison.
Start off with ten gays- several of whom are on a steady mix of prescription anti-depressants, anti-anxiety meds, and frequent users of the biggest import from Colombia- put them all together in two small hotel rooms, add a Tea Dance outside on the pool deck and you got SO MUCH shit that I'd rather jump into a porta-potty than go back into that hell again.

I'll fill you in on all the deets later. right now i have to leave work and breathe some fresh air.