What is a bear?

One of the most common questions in beardom is “What is a bear?” One of the most annoying answers is “It depends.” Well it does depend on a lot of factors. Mostly it depends on your own background.

One of the things I love about traveling is seeing different cultures. Within that, people in different areas have different ideas about what constitutes a “bear.” At the IBR contest, I noted that every New York contestant had a healthy amount of leather on, that the idea of bears and leather are intrinsically linked. (In San Francisco, I think they’re two separate entities, and although a number of bears enjoy leather, myself included, I’ve known friends who’ve dressed up in full leather and then get stares when they go to the Lone Star.) Personally, I think it’s the working man type, Carhartts, Dickies, Ben Davis, although it’s heavily joked in San Francisco that most of the bears in San Francisco who wear this rarely have to do more manual labor than getting under their desk to swap out a hard drive, myself included.* (Some people even view it as a rebellion against our desk-bound workstyle.) In the south, it’s the cowboy, the ranch herder, again even though a lot of these bears rarely get out of Dallas. In the Midwest, it might be the farmer type. In the southeast, it might be the good-ole-boy. In the northwest, it might be the lumberjack type. And that’s just within the United States.

When I was traveling to Europe, people abroad have a different idea entirely. Just due to plain genetics or diet, people might not be all that hairy or heavy. Their inspiration might be a rugby or soccer player, or even a skinhead. I found a lot of the latter in Germany. A lot of my British friends in San Francisco like a healthy amount of Ben Sherman, Fred Perry and Lonsdale, even though most of them are pretty slender and hairless, they definitely consort heavily with the bears, and we’re glad to have ’em.

So on my last day in Germany, I came across such a Lonsdale polo in a shop window. Unfortunately, the store was closed (damn German blue laws), and wasn’t open again until after I left the next morning. A friend told me to check e-bay. I did, and I finally found one, and after some mistries (see also my other post My E-bay account has been hacked by Puritans!), it finally came this week. That with an appropriate pair of jeans and Carolina boots, I gotta say it looks pretty damn hot. Thanks to that adorable German cub for the inspiration. Who says you only gotta wear Carhartts. :-)

* I got pegged in Paris as not only an American, but as a San Franciscan. The cashier at a shop explained in broken English that there's only one place in the world they wear Carhartt jeans and Paul Frank shirts, and I said "Well snaps for you man, because you're absolutely right." I really need to backfill those stories in my blog. :-)

Our holy lady of the big fat hairy guy

I was at the lone star watching the Oscars, and standing back by the peanut barrel, I got another sense of deja vu. (No, I wasn't in France the last time I got this sensation.) Actually I was in a Catholic church. (I was raised Lutheran, "Catholic Light"... all the salvation, none of the guilt.) So I'm standing by the peanut barrel, and as each bear enters the patio, they grab a handful of peanuts. It totally reminded me how Catholics take their holy water and make their sacrament before entering their Lord's church. At this point, as the bears take their peanuts, make your own reference to what the bears do before they enter the patio. :-)

I want to go back to San Juan

I’ve inspired. Steve, the fellow cub who ran from Montreal, started his own blog (http://mtlscream2.blogspot.com/). I was reading it through, and I totally now remember a bunch of stuff from the weekend I had forgotten until he reminded me!

My friends are so awesome in their support. One morning after a bunch of contestant stuff, I came out into the lobby. My friend Tom et al were standing their, and as I walked up they all starting clapping and cheering. “What was that for?” I perplexed. “We’re practicing!” They’re so awesome. :-)

My fellow contestants made the whole thing very fun too. In front of everyone, we had to always be all “on” and all bear. In private though, we totally had fun with it. One of the contestants had these hella-tight pants on. I asked him, “How’d you get into those pants, hon, a can of Pam and a shoehorn?” :-) We quoted about every line from about every pageant movie/show/reference there was. (I won’t mention names to protect the innocent!) One was so proud that he had just watched Drop Dead Gorgeous for inspiration and quoted a line. I said, “I’m from Minnesota, so don’t even try that with me,” as I stood straight up as if I were giving a speech, brushed off my thickest Minnesota accent and said “And that makes me, Amber Atkins, proud to be an American!” Roaring laughs. He didn’t try it again. Doncha know. :-) Miss Congeniality, even “Designing Women” (one of them kept asking “where’s my flaming batons?”), nothing verboten. It was great fun.

At one point we were getting ready back stage. Two of us were looking in a mirror. And we consequently broke out into a rendition of “I feel pretty, oh so pretty.” Several more joined in. One of the New Yorkers said “What’s that from?” We’re like “West Side Story? You’re from New York and you don’t know West Side Story?” He said “Oh, all I know is,” and totally broke out in accent and character with “I want to live in America, Okay by me in America! Every free in America, for a small fee in a America!” By this time, everyone was getting into the act. “I want to go back to San Juan!” And everyone yelled back at him “I KNOW A BOAT YOU CAN GET ON!” :-) We continued for another couple verses. The New Yorker had no idea “I Feel Pretty” was in West Side Story, but he could sing three verses of “America” from memory. :-)

After reading Steve’s blog, I had totally forgotten about my intro on the Kinsey Sicks. I was introduced as Mr. Holland Bay Tunnel 2003. I’m a registered Republican. (I shook my head a little bit as they said that!) I’ve been in the seminary for 20 years now, and enjoy going to Junior Varsity wrestling games. (I vigorously shook my head in agreement with that one!) Contestant #2, Joe Carlin!

On the train from Reno*

I had this strangest sense of "deja vu". How appropriate, as I was in France when I first had this sensation.

As I write this, I'm on a train, drinking cabernet savignon through the Sacramento Valley (celebrating finishing up my PM class!), listening to a remix of "Sinnerman". It's overcast, and I'm just enjoying the countryside, sipping my wine. Last time I had this sensation, I was on a train, drinking cabernet savignon through the French countryside, listening to a remix of "Sinnerman" on my MP3 player. It was overcast, and I was just enjoying the countryside, sipping my wine. About the only difference was the wine is Californian, not French, I'm in California, not France, and likewise I'm on my way to San Francisco, not Paris, although Alfred Hitchcock did once refer to San Francisco as the American Paris. Likewise, I flirt with the cute porter in English instead of French. "Allez vous un vin rouge?" :-)

*I was on the train from Reno, although I got on at Sacramento. No, I'm not getting a divorce. :-)

I puked my brains out today

A lot of times you'll hear someone say "I puked my brains out." Of course, they're being figurative. A more accurate way to describe is that they puked their stomach out. But no, today I puked my brains out. Literally.

Back in the days of the Roman Empire, they had something called a "vomitorium", a place where one would gorge oneself on food and drink, go into another room and puke it up, only to go back and eat some more. They would repeat this orgy of delights over and over.

I realized I had begun to do the same thing. But not with food. In the mad dash to finish my degree, I would go on these marathon sessions of reading, learning, writing, testing. Literally an orgy of learning. Then when I was done with the class, I'd do this "out, out, out! Gotta make room for more!" I'd try and clear my head of everything, go on a mental vacation, clear everything out, because I had to make room for the next class, to concentrate and focus on something else. In a sense, I was puking my brain out. Not really of course, but definitely "mentally make room" ("allocating mental bandwidth," as I described it to my boss) for the next onslaught of learning and educational performance I would have to entail. And of course there were some classes I'd actually just rather forget (let's say Accounting 1B), and others that were actually helpful (Advanced C++ or the Project Management class I just took). But for those, I just kept my notes and books. If at some point in the future I actually needed that knowledge, I could go back and reference it. Preferably at a time when I had the mental room to do so.

So I finished up my Project Management class this morning, fired up the laptop, wrote another blog, and began to purge. I got a major paper to write and a final to study for, and the final two weeks of my Business Writing class! :-)

E-kvetching

I'm pretty sure this didn't happen to you on your evening commute. (Why do so many of my blog entries start out this way?)

I've been through some pretty strange situations in the last year. I once was riding down the an Alaskan peninsula on a motorcycle following a woman on a Harley who gave birth to me, who I had met only a few days previous. I once found myself in Paris locked out of my hotel room at 4:30 in the morning. I once found myself in a German bar getting kicked out by the Polizei. I once found myself nearly freezing to death waiting 25 minutes in subzero temperatures in a Long Island Railroad station. I think this entry is right up there.

And have you ever had a moment where you were so stressed you just couldn't do anything? You just stare forward into space because if you look at anything, you'll have to deal with it and you just might go postal? Yeah, that happened to me tonight.

So, as I had done four times previously, at 5:00 PM on Friday, I walked one block to Embarcadero station to catch BART out to Richmond, where I'd transfer to the train to up to Sacramento. (For those who didn't know, my Project Management class is in Sac, because they didn't offer it in SF until after I graduate. Besides, it was only 5 full Saturdays, and the train ride give me time to work on homework.) I walk down and read the signs. "8 CAR RICHMOND TRAIN... 17 MIN" 17 minutes? Now I had been down there in plenty of time. And the trains to Richmond run about every 10 minutes during rush hour. Oh this is not good. I'll miss the train if it's that late.

So I get the idea to take the Pittsburg/Bay Point train to Oakland, then transfer the Dublin-Richmond train. And I do. A few minutes later, one comes and I hop on it. I get off at Oakland. "6 CAR RICHMOND TRAIN... 14 minutes" 14 minutes? Oh Jesus. Are all the Richmond trains late? (Yes, actually.) 300,000 people take BART every day, so when this happens at rush hour, it's not good. Mind you, I love BART. It's consistently rated the #1 transit system in America. (This in stark contrast to Muni, which my coworker, who is from Guatemala, a third world country, doesn't think Muni is much better here.) So in 14 minutes I get on this 6 car train (it's from the less used suburb-to-suburb line). Each stop is painful. The cars are so full, you think fist fights are going to break out. It was bad. Real bad. Can't people just get on less crowded cars? Wait until the next one? (Eventually the hella-delayed train was right behind us.) It makes the train later and later and later.

So I finally make it to Richmond. There's no chance in hell I make it. And it's over an hour til the next one. I figure, well I was gonna grab dinner in Sac, I might as well do it here. There's nothing in Richmond, so I get back on BART and go one stop back to El Cerrito. Not much to pick from, McD's, Jack in the Box, Church's Chicken, Pizza Hut. I pick Church's Chicken. So I get my order, sit down and some homeless guy walks in. Shortly after, the BART police walk in. They ask him to step outside. (I have no freakin' clue what this guy did other than smell.) But I'm sure the guy's hungry, and he already paid. He goes just ballistic. If he's hungry, and these police are harassing him, I'd probably have a fit too. But at this point, I don't really care. I'm stressed out of my mind, I have two papers to write, a quiz to do, three chapters to read, a final to do tomorrow, I barely dodge fist fights, I missed my train, I'm in the middle of god-why-in-the-hell-else-would-I-be-here El Cerrito eating at god-why-in-the-hell-else-would-I-eat-here Church's Chicken with the police harassing some homeless guy who just wants a hot meal. And thus, I just stare off.

But this is how I vent. I blog. :-) I finish up, tack another event up to the intricate tapestry that is my life, assume that somewhere, someone only wishes their life could be so exciting, go back up to Richmond, hop the train, and write. Whew. I feel so much better now. :-)

So, is there like some movie thing going on Sunday?

I woke up this morning, turned on my computer, and a news article popped up on my homepage about what the hot movies are supposed to be for the Oscars on Sunday. On Sunday. Sunday? This Sunday? In two days, Sunday? THE OSCARS ARE ON SUNDAY???? I had COMPLETELY forgotten! I mean, ME, FORGOT about the OSCARS? I mean, it's not like I'll be watching with bated breathe, but I'm a big movie fan, so I am interested (not to mention pay careful attention for later trivia questions, another interest of mine), so for me to just completely forget about the Oscars, that's huge! I think it speaks reams to the fact that my mind has been completely elsewhere. I have to finish up my Philosophy homework tonight, study for the PM final tonight, then have that final tomorrow, have to finish up my late Business Writing class homework tomorrow, and then finish the regular homework for Tuesday. Oh yeah... AND THE OSCARS! By Sunday, I'm supposed to have most of it done, as I'll do my homework and stuff on the train to and from Sacramento for my PM class, so I'll definitely be able to watch it, but HOLY CRAP! I forgot about the Oscars! That still just blows me away....

I trimmed my beard today

Within days of the November elections, my friend Daniel said he did the hardest thing he ever had to do: Take his Kerry sticker off his car. I wondered why he felt like he needed to. I think he just wanted some sense of finality over the whole thing and move on. I didn't take mine off. :-)

In a similar vein (although not nearly so somber), I trimmed my beard back today. It's weird. But I think of it did have that same kind of finality, like the contest was really over. I had let my mustache grow out for it. It was the first time I let it grow so long. My hair is really, really thick and curly, so it doesn't grow long well, especially on my face. It requires a lot of maintenance and combing and trimming to keep it looking decent. I figured I'd try to go for the thick beard look for the contest. Now I trimmed it back just to keep it neat for the next couple weeks while I finish up the brunt of my finals.

Dolly Parton once said takes a lot of money to look this cheap. Likewise, it takes lot of work to look like you don't work on it. I remember back in the 80s, George Michael founded the 5 o'clock shadow look, and he spent a hell of a lot of time looking like he forgot to shave. That was what it was like. Bears spend a surprising amount of time worrying about how they look, just not in ways that you would think. I actually put a lot of thought and effort into how I wanted my beard to look, the length, the lines (looking hot, but not all "topiary"), right down to the fact that I trimmed it X days before the contest so it would look a little unkempt by the time the contest hit (as the hair grew at uneven rates), but not overly so.

The other thing I noticed is that the hair around my mustache is real blond. Since I trimmed it back, I noticed a distinct dual tone between the hair under my chin and that on my mustache. I didn't always like being a blond bear. I think it stems from the fact I grew up in Minnesota. Swedes, Nords, Germans, being blond was downright common. In fact, I was downright brunette by comparison. Then I moved to SF. I once asked my ex exactly what his type was. He said he really liked blonds. "You consider me a blond?" "Oh yeah." (He's Portuguese.) I forget. In SF, I'm practically an ethnic group. Now? I like it. :-)

Today, I am a San Franciscan

There's a joke in San Francisco that you need to have certain things to be considered a San Franciscan. I got a title (Bay Area Cub), so that's one. I have a blog, so that's another. And on Monday at the auction, I picked up an iPod Shuffle. The white ear buds are so prevalent here, you'd think they handed them out at the DMV here when you changed your license. I have an MP3 player of various sorts, but I got on iTunes awhile ago, and I got sick of doing the download-burn-rip-copy thing, so I finally picked up a Shuffle. I picked it up at the auction for a little bit more than retail (but since it was for charity, it's deductible). I like it. It's pretty slick (it is an Apple product, after all). I don't mind not having the display. Since it integrates seemlessly into iTunes, I just leave it plugged in, and I can just change the order in my iTunes GUI, and then just take it with me. I already copied my German listening CDs onto it. "Hören Sie zu diese Gespräch zu." (Listen to this conversation.) :-)

Going to work is fun!

Yeah I know, you probably think I'm crazy. I've thought about it often, and it really is. Getting there isn't half the fun; in San Francisco, it's all the fun. At least on most days. My commute is pretty nice. It's about 30 minutes to downtown, either by bus or by motorcycle, although by motorcycle is more reliable. (I could tell you hell commute stories. It once took me two hours to get to work because of a bomb scare on Muni and an earthquake on BART.) As I love to say though, I dodge clueless Asian drivers, SUV-driving power bitches, crazy homeless people running through the streets, cars darting across traffic, and nearly getting killed. But thank God I don't have to deal with Muni. I truly do hate them.

Let me give you an example. I ride a motorcycle to work. I don't ride Muni enough to get a monthly pass. I kept getting a CommuterCheck (money taken out of your paycheck tax-free for use towards transit fares), so I had a bunch pile up. I can use them on BART and Muni, and I was running low on Muni tokens. (I can't use them on direct fares, I have to get tokens.) So in the Market Street subway, there were 2-3 places in each station you could buy BART and Muni tickets/tokens/passes/whatever. Then Muni decided not to get along with them, and suddenly they stopped selling Muni anything. You could only get them at random vendors throughout the city, assuming they took CommuterChecks and assuming they sold the tickets/tokens/passes/whatever you needed. Then like a month later, Muni sets up a makeshift tent in each station you could buy them, but only between the hours of 12 and 6, and assuming you don't get there during her random lunch hour. Then they closed all those down. Then like a month later, they set up a single booth in Powell station, again only open from 12-6 yada yada yada.

"I need 3 bags of tokens please."

"I can only sell you 2." Apparently because of the possible fare hike, people have been hoarding them and they won't make new ones.

"But I have a CommuterCheck for $30."

"I can only sell you 2. And I can't give you change. Would you like a map?"

"I don't need a map, I need Muni tokens."

I walked away. Man I hate Muni.

So anyways, happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Today I was riding my motorcycle into work. I realized how much I love doing that. My day starts out looking out of Twin Peaks onto downtown San Francisco and the East Bay, the Castro and Noe Valley. I stroll down Upper Market, twisting down the turns, til I get to the Castro, wave at the homos going off to work (like me), go down Market Street along side the street cars and bicycle couriers. I turn off Dolores, this time under the 13th Street overpass and by the homeless encampments. I drive up Folsom, past the leather bars and sex shops, into the heart of SoMa, watch the cute cubbies go off to their graphic design/webmaster jobs at SoMa dot coms (those that are left), the Bay Bridge on the horizon, into the Financial District, dodge SUV-driving power bitches coming off the Bay Bridge, pull up into the garage and enjoy $4 a day worth of monitored parking. I then walk three blocks to my office, listening to the iPod to start my day.

Good times. :-)

I don't know why I enjoyed it so much today. It was fairly overcast, a little foggy, a little cooler. I think I enjoyed the normalcy of it, the fact my life was returning to normal. My PM class ends on Saturday, and after Tuesday, my classwork eases tremendously. Whew. Life returns to normal. :-)

Fun with idioms

So I was chatting with one of my German friends, and sometimes you don't even realize what you're saying is an idiom until you try and translate it. I was trying to say I couldn't sleep lately because I had "so much on my mind". Well, Germans don't really have a concept of "mind". Brain, head, thoughts, yeah, no mind. So I tried to translate it "wortlich" (literally) and completely failed. "auf Englisch" he said. "Ah... zuviel in die Öhren"... (too much in the ears) :-)

Sleep, glorious sleep

So I was finally able to sleep last night for any decent amount of time since the contest. Apparently I've at least been able to process enough of the events of the last week to let exhaustion take over and let me sleep. I fell asleep at about 10:30 in front of the TV, and was awaken at about 2:30 to the sound of a false alarm on my bike alarm. (The remote went off, but not the bike itself, oddly enough, and investigation show'd the motion detector didn't even go off around it, so dunno what was up with that.) So after a little mini-heart attack from that, I went back up and fell back to sleep.

It also occurred to me I finally understand the term "blind ambition." In the course of going to school, I treated it like an endurance marathon. After almost three and a half years, you no longer ask yourself why you're doing it, you just do it. I felt like that's what happened at IBR. I was so freakingly busy doing it and keeping an eye on the prize, I totally forgot why I was doing it. And looking back, even though I didn't win, I still satisfied a lot of the reasons for doing it. And that makes it all worth it. Not that I ever thought overwise. Because...

I started a new group on my AOL IM called "IBR Family." They really are. We all bonded so much, even more so since. We all went through this amazing experience together, and there wasn't a bad apple in the bunch. I truly love those guys!

The Hardest Load of Laundry I've Ever Done

So after this weekend, I basically took half my closet, wore it once and threw it on the floor. The contest alone was 4 outfits, and each day averaged 2-3. I got home after work, changed into something comfortable, threw it all in a Korean military duffle bag, threw it on my back, hopped on the motorcycle and drove down to Sit & Spin in the Castro. I love that place. All new washers, well kept, and usually a friendly face you know to chat with. This time was no exception. Ran into a fellow bear I knew, not really well, but casually. We chatted about the previous weekend. I talked about running in the contest. But the memories started to flood back. The stains on my knees from selling raffle tickets in the rain... the water and crap I got on my coveralls from the dare to bare. Even if not very soiled, or just smelling sweaty, each outfit reminded me of what I was doing. I recapped the whole weeekend, and I realized I was a lot better about it. Surprisingly how doing laundry helps you clean out your brain too.

Cute IBR Story

So the Germans were in town for IBR. I really wish I had more time to spend with them, but Kay will be back in March for work.

One morning I hop up to the Alan's hotel room. The Germans were just come out of their's. "Guten Morgen!" I say. "Guten Morgen," they say back. "Schlafst du gut?" I ask. [Did you sleep well?] "Nein," Tom replied. "Ich habe ein [something] an mein [something]." I didn't know exactly what he was saying, probably a slang term for something, or a technical term I wasn't familiar with. Either way, "Oh, es tut mir leid." [I'm sorry, or literally "It does for me unfortunate"]

I go into Alan's room. "Did you see the Germans?" "Yeah they were just heading downstairs." "How's Tom? He said he wasn't feeling well." "Oh. He didn't say anything to me." And then I pause. "Wait. You know what, I think he did... just in German and I didn't quite understand what he was talking about." :-)

Troy, the magnificient

Losing IBR was very very hard for me, but ya know, I got awesome friends, and then there's Troy. He's so sweet. I thought I'd share:

---------------------

Dear Joe,

I guess a wish of mine would have been to be able to be there to offer in-person support. I know you had friends there, but I would have whispered in your ear that you are accepted, loved and celebrated whether you are in full-leather, or a fur and a tutu. I know I would have seen that smile which was already famous to me.

In my mind you completely succeeded. You raised the bar for quality, and that will affect future events! That is _not_ a small thing. Even though I was not there, I know you did everything with quality, strength, and that unique flair you have which was already obvious to all of your friends and family who already know you and love you, who care intensely about you no matter how much money you raise or how you look in a leather vest. That definately includes me.

I completely support you in all of your interests and activities. If you want to run again, do it! Or wherever your curiousity leads you. Whenever I think about all my heros who went on to gain acclaim or excellence in their field, it was always because they wanted to do it for themselves, to satisfy their own hunger, their own need to find a project to focus their talents and ablities on.

Your decision to make a quality speech may have had effects you cannot realize right away, it may have touched someone or made a shift in someone who would not be able to verbalize it to you, or even themselves right away. You put a new energy into that room, and the world.

I ADMIRE WHAT YOU DID.

I THINK IT WAS INCREDIBLY BRAVE.

I KNOW YOU DID A GREAT JOB.

I kiss your hand,

-Troy

Close, but no cigar

In reflection of my experience in the IBR contest, I sent out an email to a bunch of friends. I thought it was worth sharing.

-------------------------

Well it was real close, but no cigar. As many of you know, I ran in IBR this year to represent San Francisco as Bay Area Cub. I lost out Cub to a hot little latin cub from New York, and he totally deserved it. He had it all, looks, charm, personality, and a heart as big as New York itself. Word has it though he almost won Bear (the overall title) by 2 points, and if he would have, I very well might have won Cub. But a guy from Kentucky won that title, and he worked his ass off to get it, and totally deserved it. They were a great bunch of guys, every single one of them, not a bad apple in the bunch, and I was proud to serve and represent my city.

When they announced the titleholders, we all stood up on stage. They first announced Cub, then Grizzly, Daddy, then the overall title of Bear. As they announced Cub, we all stood together. As I heard them announce Manny's name, several emotions flooded through me. First my heart sank as they didn't announce me (as it did for hearts of the scores of San Franciscans who were in the audience). Then I thought "Oh good, at least it's Manny," because if it was anyone else I might have been a lot more bitter. :-) (We all deserved it, I shouldn't say that, but Manny more than anyone else.) Then I looked over at Manny on the other side of the stage and he had this look of shock on his face, followed by "oh my god!" and then he started crying. Then I thought "Oh shit, now I'm gonna start crying!" and I welled up a bit about his reaction. Then someone said "Butch it up, Manny!" and he went up and accepted Cub.

I can't say it didn't hurt. I worked my tireless little butt off this weekend, eeking by on about 6 hours of sleep the entire weekend, mostly from restless nights thinking about everything I had to do. My calves still ache from running around in boots all weekend, constantly being "on" and in bear mode, my cheeks (on my face silly) still feel sore from all the smiling I had to do. But everyone did.

And there was stuff I nailed to the wall, brought it home, cooked it up and served it hot. My speech was flawless. I worked over a day constantly on it, editing for content, flow, feeling, and by the end it had everything, made you feel all great inside, gave you a rise, and left them applauding like mad. It was memorized (most people read off cards), and went off without a hitch. It was my one moment in time, and I soared. I walked off the stage hearing the applause and I was on cloud 9. The topic was: Tell us about your favorite moment of IBR 2005, or, tell us about the teddy bear you made for the auction. I made a little "geisha bear" with a handmade bear-inspired kimono I personally spent hours sewing (I know, I could have paid some 12-year old in Thailand 25 cents an hour to do it, but it wouldn't have been from the heart like mine!), complete with chopsticks in the fur behind his head. I choose the former topic, and my speech went like this:

"Friday night at the Eagle, we were selling raffle tickets, when I saw this bear and cub off to the side, being shy and not really interacting with anyone. They started asking me about the tickets, and as I was telling them about measuring the inseam, the prizes and the charity, the cub got really quiet like it wasn't his thing. Then the bear asked me 'How about I pay you five dollars and you measure his inseam?' So I got on my knees and he got a little apprehensive. I told him it would be all right, and as I measure, his mood went from shy, to okay, to feeling good, and by the time I was done, he was grinning from ear to ear. [Woofs and YEAHS from the audience!] I stood up, and just grabbed him and gave him the biggest kiss, and he wrapped his arms around me and gave me the biggest bear hug, and I just thought to myself, how awesome it is to be a bear, to make someone who's shy and inhibited to feel that warm and that good and that accepted. And that was my favorite part of the weekend. [The audience goes mad! And as the music cues to cue me off the stage, I added:] And to that guy, if your in the audience, please find me after the show, because I would love to finish what I started. Thank you."

And as they say, that... was the night... the lights... went out... IN GEORGIA!

The crowd went wild. I nailed it, I felt better than anyone else. I was so proud of myself. I stood up in front of hundreds, most of them strangers, took a topic that was very dear to me, the feeling of acceptance, threw in a little risque and the promise of a little action, and did it all in 60 seconds. No one even came close with theirs. Others startled, rambled, ran over, one even ended with "and world peace." And it was all 100% true. I had to edit certain facts for time, but nothing embellished. There was a bear and cub at the Eagle on Friday night. I think they were from Alaska, and the little cub guy was so adorable, but I don't think he'd been to many or any bear events before (he was completely unfamiliar with the raffle ticket idea). He was incredibly shy, and he did step back, and I put my head on his furry belly and massaged his legs and I measured his inseam. He started to get visibly excited, but no, no sex happened. (I am not that kind of girl!) And by the end, he was grinning ear to ear and I did kiss him deep and hugged him deep. It was indeed one of my favorite moments of the weekend, and just made me feel so awesome inside. Unfortunately, my friends were busy pimping me out to sell more raffle tickets and I had to go. I never saw him again. (As an aside, the 13 of us raised $4,500 in raffle sales for charity, and I definitely raised more than average, although not the most. Several my friends reporting winning prizes as a result as well. I give good raffle. :-) )

My interviews went awesome as well. Every question sincere and honest and great and impassioned, without any "world peace" answers (although perhaps a bit of "harsher penalties for repeat parole violators.... and world peace" :-) ). The second question asked of me was "What has been your favorite thing about your trip to San Francisco thus far?" I paused for a moment and said, "Well I'd have to think about all that for a moment because I live here." The judge paused and looked down at his sheet and turned about 8 shades of red. "Oh man, I looked at your bio too" and everyone started roaring with laughter. Any possible tension at that point washed away and the rest of the interview went swimmingly. Even one difficult judge, who, after comparing notes with other contestants, directed every question about himself instead of the contestants. (He won't be coming back next year.) His question to me was "If you had to put me in a category, what category would it be?" I answered "Well, I haven't had a lot of chance to get to know you, but if I had to put it at first glance, I'd say a daddy bear." The guy was 50 if he was a day, and full grey. "Do you think that I could be a cub?" I answered, "Oh yeah. The one thing you learn about living in San Francisco is you realize anything's possible." A look of "Amen to that"s from around the judges in the room.

But I had shortcomings. I was prepared with all my stuff for the contest, but I hadn't prepared myself mentally. Some things I didn't know what to expect, and therefore wasn't prepared for, and therefore others did better than me. In the raffle ticket sales, I wasn't prepared for the experience. I had done it before for the Bay Area Cub contest (and there I kicked everyone else to the curb in sales), but it was a totally different experience with a ton of strangers. At times it seemed to drag, and I later found it wasn't so much in sales they looked for, but how you interacted with people. On Saturday afternoon, it was 13 of us, trying to get sales from a few dozen people in the rain. I just wasn't up to the task. (It got better later, but with mostly strangers there instead of a lot of locals Friday night, other fared much better.) My friends helped out a ton, but I know it hurt my score.

The other part was my self-image. I wasn't always with the bears, and in college, I was a 145 pounds at the same height, skinny, smooth, no facial hair. Despite any outward appearances now, there's always a part of me inside that feels that way. Stuff like thinking of myself as sexy and exuding that is really hard for me. Others were better at it. I know that hurt my score. This time.

But you know what, I learned something about myself this weekend. I overcame so many personal issues to rise up above myself, that I'm proud of what I did. I got up in front of a hundreds of people, did what I thought was right, and I just feel like a new man for it. And so many people who were so proud of me for running and doing it were even prouder of me now. I have people come up to me I've never met and say they were proud of me. And realized that I didn't run for fame or attention, or to become a sash queen, but to do San Francisco proud. And god damn it, I did, and that's something to be proud of.

After the contest, I hopped in a cab back to home (I dearly wanted to sleep in my own bed, even though I had offers to stay at the hotel), so I grabbed my stuff out of Alan's room and went home. My Bay Area Cub title vest was hanging up separately, and it the late our I forgot it there. On Monday, after the auction, I grabbed the vest, and instead of carrying it, I put it on. I only won it in October, and didn't get it until December. With school, travel, work and everything else, I hadn't had a chance to really enjoy it. I stood there waiting for the elevator and saw myself in the mirror. "Damn I look good in this thing," I thought to myself. Fran and the guys at Mr. S did a kick-ass job on it.

I compared it to a story about a friend of mine in Minneapolis when I was there over New Year's. I had just come back from New York, and was complaining that, after Paris, New York was a let down for shopping. Anything there I could find in San Francisco, and the stores might be bigger in NY, but not better than SF. I was really hoping to find some more Euro-stuff like I could find in Europe. I was disappointed. As I'm telling him this, I realize how incredibly stuck up it sounded. Five years ago, shopping in New York was a dream for me.

Five years ago, winning Bay Area Cub was just a dream for me. And now that's who I am. I need to basque in that awhile, and that's long overdue. :-)

Manny came up to me after the show. He was looking around to find me and he said the sweetest thing. He said, "Joe, I was so shocked that I won. I had no idea. I totally thought it was going to be you all the time. That's why I was so shocked when they announced me." We both started welling up crying and then just grabbed each other and lost it. Man is he sweet.

Part of me feels like running again in the future. I feel like I even graduated up to "bear" after this weekend. "I always thought you were a bear," Manny said. I always thought he was a bear. It turns out, we had no idea we were competing against each other, and when we found that out, we both thought the other was gonna win. Now that I've been through it once, I know what works, what doesn't, and what to expect. I won't be in school after I graduate, and have time to mount enough of a campaign and have enough energy to do it right, and show them how to do it San Francisco style, with ground-level reachouts, a website, slogans ("Support our city: bring the title home!"), and show them The City That Know How. Fuck the curse. (San Francisco has never won one of the titles hosted in its own town since its inception.) Break it and inspire to run locally to beat them in the future. That's why I ran, because so many were discouraged to run locally because "I'll never win IBR" because of it. But I have a long time to figure that one out.

Manny's profile is on bigmusclebears.com, profile MetroCub2004, if you want to see him. (I would advise against checking it at work. :-) )

http://www.BigMuscleBEARS.com/profile.phtml?uid=MetroCub2004

If you see the picture with Mr. MetroBear, that's Mike Cotter. He was in the contest as well, and held me as we waited to go back on stage to announce the titleholders. Another guy with a heart as big as New York. :-)

Thanks again to everyone who supported me at the contest, and thanks to everyone who couldn't be there who were there in my heart. You guys are so freakingly awesome I can't say it enough. I never would have done it without you.

Now I gotta get back to work. I have my Project Management final on Saturday. Then I'm down to two classes, and on March 15th, I finish up my last Business Writing class. Then just finish up Philosophy and my capstone project (old hat stuff for me), and in May I walk down the isle and pick up my diploma.

I know, I'm crazy. But you know, a bear's gotta do, what a bear's gotta do. :-)

Oh yeah, and pictures forthcoming. :-)

Joe

Just another Tuesday

So yesterday was another Tuesday, but not quite unlike any other Tuesday. I would have loved to have taken it off and process the events of the previous weekend (not to mention get some much needed sleep), but I had a contractor coming in, and very little vacation time left, and it just wasn't happening. I barely slept the night before, I had so much to process in my head. Life is indeed a crazy thing.

So on top of working a full day of work on very little sleep, I schlept out to Walnut Creek for my Business Writing class. I negotiated successfully to turn in my homework late. Things got so crazy. Kasia's awesome about that though. God bless her.

Troy called me in the middle of class. We were working on a group project so I could take it aside for a minute. He wanted to tell me he got his phone set up in Nebraska, and he was very proud of me. He's so sweet. "Hey Troy?" "Yeah?" "Guess what." "What?" "I love you." "I love you too." It was about time I said it. :-)

We got out a little early, about 9:30 PM. I road back the 28 miles back to San Francisco on the motorcycle, winding through Berkley and Oakland, across the Bay Bridge and into the beautiful city where I live. It wasn't as cold yesterday as it had been. Thank God both weeks of winter are finally done. :-) I'm just glad it's still light out when I drive out to my class at 5:30.

So I exit off I-80 onto the Mission St exit (also known as the 13th Street Overpass, also known as the roof for a lot of homeless people's encampments). I pull up onto Dolores and then Market Street and make my way along the street cars and bicyclists. I drive through the Castro, wave at the rainbow flag and make my way to the winding part of Upper Market. I lane split past a rusty piece of crap Camero, who's owner apparently had a very, very, very small endowment. Not enjoying that a 1000 cc engine sports bike blew past him, he sped up to 60 miles an hour and past me. Going into a turn. Going into a very tight turn. Now I ride this way on my motorcycle all the time, and I can do about 40-45 on it, maybe more if I have new sticky tires. I don't in my car. And certainly not in a piece of crap rusty Camero. I think "oh this isn't good." He flies past me into the turn, loses control, and skids into the median, busting the living crap out of the side of his car.

My boss taught me a German word the other day that perfectly suited this occasion: Schadenfreude. It's actually commonly used in English. The literal translation is "awful pleasure", but the connotation is to take pleasure in someone else's misfortune. As I drive by in the lane that is not filled with Camero parts, I look in and see he's all right, and then keep on driving. (He didn't hit it hard, just perfectly parallel to maximize the damage to the side of his vehicle.) The idiot. If he were just perfectly happy with the size of his small penis, he never would have had that problem.

I went home, heard the sirens in the distance, and walked upstairs and off to sleep.

Just another day in Paradise

Well, I've finally got inspired to create a blog. The events of the past year were too much not to share. I found out about my birth mother, I then met her, I went to Europe, I became Bay Area Cub 2005, went on to compete at IBR (and close, but no cigar), and in May I graduate from College. Oh yeah, and I'm learning German. And every once in a rare while, I have a little bit of free time on my hands. Not much though. :-)

I live in San Francisco, and I find things every single day to entertain me. People said I should write them down and share them. And whatdoyaknow, they're right. Little things, like watching a pigeon eat take out out of a chinese food box, complete with chopstick. (It wasn't eating with chopsticks, but the requisite utensils were there.) Or big things, like watching a single-vehicle car crash right in front of me. Or waking up to a single car crash into a tree right in front of my building. And so here they go. My blog. :-)

My solution to everything

Another post on mine from late last week (pre-IBR) I felt sharing:

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I was reading this morning about Social Security, the new FCC fines, lots of things. And I gotta say what bugs me most is people look at things through their little world view and give no credence to any of concerns of other people and tote the party line. And anyone on the opposite view is considered "obstructionist". God in Heaven, people, can't we all just get along? Sorry, I'll step right off my soap box. At least one foot off it for now. :-)

So onto the FCC fines. The House this morning passed a resolution for stiffer indecency penalties for broadcasters. Of course, one side claims it didn't go far enough. "Why should the penalties be any different on channel 5 than channel 105?" arguing one lawmaker that the same rules should apply to cable and satellite. And another side claimed it went to far, that freedom of expression will be stifled and will create a homogenous broadcast, devoid of entertainment.

Some were happy with the bill as written. "With passage of this legislation, I am confident that broadcasters will think twice about pushing the envelope,'' said Rep. Fred Upton, R-Mich., chairman of the House telecommunications panel and author of the bill. "Our kids will be better off for it.''

Indeed. But even without a single increase in fines (although certainly more stringent enforcement of existing fines), it's already having an effect. Many of the same people who fought for the stiffer penalties, complained when many stations would not broadcast Saving Private Ryan, due to the violent content and profanities. War is hell, as they say, and the FCC says we shouldn't show kids hell. After all, even the threat of legislation made the stations do exactly what the lawmakers said it would: think twice. Many stations, especially PBS, balk at even the hint of paying fines that can be in the tens or hundreds of thousands, and steer clear of anything that could remotely generate a fine. They don't think twice, they think over and over about it, and more often than not it means they don't show anything remotely offensive, even with the best of intentions. After all, the law isn't about intent, it's about what is actually shown. And the law is the law, regardless of what the lawmakers intended.

Previous to "boobgate", the argument was simple: change the channel. Monitor your kids. Check what they're watching. Anything less and you're not a parent. Last year's Super Bowl changed all that. The debate was off. The religious right seized the opportunity and ran with it. The babysit-your-kids argument was lost in the noise. They wanted stiff penalties for anyone who would remotely dare do anything that might offend anyone.

But the issue with "boobgate" wasn't that a breast was shown on television. No, I was chose to sit down with my kids to a few hours of watching grown men beat the living crap out of each other, interspersed with commercials about erectile dysfunction. But no boobs. And therein lies the problem: I didn't choose to watch it.

Many of the lawmakers who say the same penalties should apply to cable lose to a single argument: I choose and even pay money for cable. I want to watch westerns where they swear enough to make a sailor plush. I want to watch blood and guts and gore. Shoot, I might even choose to get some soft core porn and see someone of those boobies, even gratuitous ones. If I don't want it, I don't buy it. But I not only chose it, I bought it!

So that's the problem. And here's my solution:

Make them choose. Thanks to President Clinton (I know, most Republicans would rather die than do that*), every TV manufactured in the last 10 years has a V-chip in it. That's over 90% of the TVs in use today. But by default, it's turned off. And most people have no idea how to turn it on. Here's my idea: Have it turned ON by default. When they first turn it on, have a setup screen (like mine does when first powered on) that says "V-chip: ON" and make them go through a selection screen that basically says "I want to turn this off so I can choose to watch Violence, Profanity, Nudity and/or Adult Situations, or that I choose to be a bad parent and want to let my kids watch this stuff too." Cable and satellite receivers do the same thing. Software companies do it all the time to ensure that their customers have read and comply with their agreements. And legislate it, so a single TV manufacturer doesn't have to say be the heavy about a nannying kids when parents won't.

Then, focus the FCC fines on broadcasters those who don't comply. By all means, if someone slips in a boobie on Teletubbies, fine the hell out of them. If someone shows it on a show that is flagged for it, I already acknowledged that I -chose- to watch that. Then instead of just merely having a message at the beginning of the we-all-know "This program contains mature content and shouldn't be watched by anyone" and hope and pray parents catch it before it warps Jimmy's fragile little mind, the V-Chip will block it by default. And you better believe that if an adult wants to watch that show and the V-Chip zaps it, they'll go out of their way to find out how to operate it. It works that way today, but because parents won't do it, make them do it.

And for God's sake, let me get back to watching Oz. :-)

Joe

* Another issue I have. I abhor that people stand behind party lines and say "that's a Democratic idea" or "that's a Republican idea," even if it's not said in so many words. Many people claim that previous to 9/11, the Bush administration ignored Osama Bin Ladin because it was Clinton who suggested he was a threat. Many Democrats refuse to see Social Security as a problem because Bush says it is. It happens on both sides equally. People, it's an -American- idea. Can we evaluate it if it's good or bad on the merits of the idea itself, not who came up with it?

Channeling my mother

So I'm sitting in my midterm last night, staring at this question. It's multiple choice, and I have to pick the right answer. Out of three choices, I could knock off one easily, but couldn't figure out which of the other two is right (or wrong as the case may be). I stare at it for awhile, and can't figure it out. I skip over it and finish the rest of the rest. I go back to it and stare at it. And stare. And stare. And stare. I can't find a single thing wrong with it. (It had to do with conjunctions, not necessarily grammatically correct, just a matter of style, as the whole test was about style.) At this point, I'm starting to channel my mother the English Teacher (TM). What would mom answer, what would mom answer. I'm not hearing an answer. I concentrate really hard. No mom. Finally at this point, I have to pick one of the two and I can't stare at it any more, so I picked which one I thought was better.

Turns out I was right. I still to this moment have no idea why it's right and not the other, but that's besides the fact. Maybe I was channeling my mother after all on some level I couldn't discern, but I figured it out anyways. Either that or just dumb luck. :-)