Three pieces of advice heading back to school.

I know, I know… many of you are NOT heading back to school. Or some of you, are heading back to the ol’ cinderblock hallways for teaching instead of learning. But even if you are not starting a new journey into a world of mechnical pencils and mechanical lectures and not so mechanical sleep schedules, remember… this is my fucking blog. And I’m going back to school, so deal with it.

Autumn is a time of renewal and cleansing, and I already am starting to feel the rush of change sweep over me and seep into my skin. Oh, wait, that’s sweat from the miserable run I just went on. I flopped around like a walrus on my neighborhood pavement for about 33 minutes and then waddled home, feeling very accomplished in this 87 degree heat. It wasn’t pretty.  Whatever, I still feel the cleansed… blah blah blah. And my lessons from this summer are nothing compared to the advice, or goals, that I’m about to drop all over this piece. These nuggets of hilarity should get you through most anything that impedes your path this fall, including piles of leaves, pick up football games, or an ex-girlfriend or two.

 

#1 LEZ BE HONEST

In romantic comedies, when a hubby mysteriously disappears for a few hours every night, it’s because he is taking secret flying lessons so he can whisk you away to Barbados for a weekend, or cooking classes to wow you with his duck confit on your anniversary. In the real world, when someone is being creepy and dishonest, it’s probably because they are sexting some 19 year old “burlesque” dancer with a lip piercing who *GASP!* dropped out of community college.  Life is hard, but it doesn’t have to be that hard. If you are honest to yourself and about yourself to others, shit will be a whole lot easier. Take it from someone who just had a serious reality check.

#2 HANG OUT WITH DRAGQUEENS

This may seem specific, but I assure you, it’s not! After spending six hours with six foot tall fabulous men last Saturday, I can tell you that dragqueens are some of the most therapeutic company you can find, especially if you are wallowing in self pity.  These incredible gems will make you feel “fabulouuuuus”, compliment your cleavage, and give you fantastic tips on eyeliner. But the real gift is the tip they unabashedly give you without having to move a glittered fingernail: be yourself. Do what makes you happy and do NOT apologize for it.  Also, use deodorant on your feet to avoid blisters in 5 inch heels.  How didn’t I know this sooner?!

#3 DON”T FORGET TO STUDY

This September, even if you are not going back to school, take the time to pick up something new. A book, a new hobby, a choking fetish… something.  These cool nights and amber days have a magic about them… they really motivate you to try new things. To inspire you, I will dig into a vault of humiliation that is my dating life up north. A few autumns ago, I tried being butch.  In my early, early, EARLY 20’s with my first girlfriend ever on my arm (we were soooooo in love after two weeks), I thought being gay meant skipping foundation and popping both collars. I pulled my hair back and tucked my ponytail under my polo hat, bound my boobs with self sticking ace bandages, and bought carpenter jeans. Okay, the jeans thing was a big fashion mistake, but I thought I looked so fly…. fly enough to use the word fly. We would go out to bars and I would act all tough and puff my “chest” out, and then, after a few weeks of trying to get the sticky residual off my tits from the ace bandages and in need of a serious conditioning treatment for my hair, I realized I wasn’t being myself. I was a hot mess. Do I still have the ace bandages? Fuck yea, but just for wrapping my ankle after the run I just epically failed at.

 

If you live in Columbus, and buy me a cocktail, and promise not to tell anyone, I will divulge my OTHER autumn attempt at being gayer… but that’s not for the public to know. I also may show you some of my “butch” pics (shudder). So this autumn, if you glean anything from this rambling blog, take two things: do what you like, and never buy carpenter jeans. Ever.

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