When I worked in a clinic in Baltimore in the late 1990s, I saw plenty of patients with gonorrhea. The men knew they had a sexually transmitted infection: The classic yellow drip from the penis couldn’t be much else. But the women, more often than not, had no symptoms. They were flabbergasted when I’d tell them that a routine screening test had been positive […]
In the aftermath of his resignation and then his death, the Web erupted with stories about Steve Jobs—anecdotes from friends, employees, and rivals that were meant to burnish our image of the Apple co-founder as an otherworldly genius, a guy whose quirks and bruising personality could be excused by his admirably fanatical devotion to making world-changing pr […]
“Sorry we ripped you off. Your best bet is to go to Groupon and get your money back. We’re too chicken shit to answer the phone, so you got this message anyway. Sorry for your problems. Better luck next time.” That’s the actual voicemail that greets potential customers looking to make an appointment at Viper Auto Detailing in Eugene, Ore., which ran Groupon […]
Owners of streaming video service Hulu have terminated their plans to sell the company, Hulu announced today. The company issued the following joint statement on its website from News Corporation, Providence Equity Partners, The Walt Disney Company and Hulu’s senior management team: “Since Hulu holds a unique and compelling strategic value to each of its own […]
One of the founders of Skype and Rdio has decided to make a run at Netflix and Hulu with a mysterious new video service called Vdio, according to a GigaOM report. Janus Friis, the co-creator of Skype, Kazaa, Joost and Rdio, has kept Vdio a secret for as long as two years and received $5.6 million in funding in Oct. 2010 while the company was listed under the […]
Facebook has no plans to integrate with Google+, Facebook’s chief technical officer Bret Taylor said today at the Web 2.o Summit in San Francisco. “Every service is better when it’s social,” he said. Apparently that dictum doesn’t apply, however, when it comes to services like Facebook and Google+ socializing with each other. The sitdown with Taylor followe […]
You know you’re in love and you know you want to spend your life with your partner — but does getting married help your finances, or leave them worse off? Before you walk down the aisle and commit to each other “for richer or for poorer,” make sure you understand the financial ramifications of your nuptials. That knowledge will help you set out on a “for ric […]
The quick and the curious received the new iPhone 4S on Friday. The new iPhones are a lot like the old iPhones—except for Siri. She's the new voice-aware "personal assistant" designed to do your bidding. I've seen people speaking to their Android phones while holding them in horizontal fashion, as if smoking a peace pipe, and I vowed neve […]
I've checked out many make-your-iPhone-into-a-universal-remote devices before, and there would always be one factor that made the whole setup hard to use. Whether it's unrefined, crashy software, limited range for IR blasting, or the fact that you need to shove (and keep track of) an IR device into the headphone jack for it to work, none of these p […]
This week I am going to go over a bunch of small projects we completed in our upstairs room and end with a big reveal of the entire space. I think it turned out great, but I'll let you be the judge of that! :) Bookshelves are a staple in most homes, but very rarely do you see the idea taken literally. Today I am going to show you how to make a "boo […]
An Amish splinter group has gone on a crime spree, forcibly cutting the beards off of their rivals. Many religions, including Sikhism, Islam, and sects of Judaism, encourage or require their men to keep beards. Jesus Christ is often depicted with a beard. Why does God like facial hair so much?
A few months ago, I was late. You know what I mean: My usual period day came and went without a spot, and suddenly every wave of exhaustion, every twinge of anxious nausea, became a harbinger of a very unintended pregnancy, a sign that my NuvaRing had failed me. I’m married, happily at that. And I’m a mother, happily as well. But our family feels “complete,” […]
Far safer than sticking an actual shotgun shell in your mouth, these AeroShot cartridges provide as much caffeine in one shot as a large cup of strong coffee. Minus the stained teeth and bad breath. Each cartridge contains six to eight puffs of a fine powder composed of vitamin B and 100 milligrams of caffeine. Enough to wake you up in the morning, or keep y […]
Today’s gadget wars may be bloody and well-publicized, but the battles between gadgets are nothing new. Long before the Kindle and the Nook started throwing punches, there was Sega Genesis vs. Nintendo and BetaMax vs. VHS. Click on the image above to expand the infographic and check out some of the gadget wars of the past and present.
This article arises from Future Tense, a collaboration among Arizona State University, the New America Foundation, and Slate. Future Tense explores the ways emerging technologies affect society, policy, and culture. To read more, visit the Future Tense blog and the Future Tense homepage. You can also follow us on Twitter.
Shared by Laura That's cool. Amazon is now allowing users who purchase the cheap, ad-supported version of the Kindle to buy out of the ads at a later date for $30, the same price it would cost to purchase a non ad-supported version. More »
We know what ingredients are in many of the products we buy, but often have no idea what the buildings we spend our lives in are made of. The Building Product Transparency Project is trying to change that. Transparency is becoming increasingly important for a number of industries; you probably have some idea about the ingredients in your food, and thanks to […]
iOS: You could make the argument that, on the whole, the Japanese are more disciplined than we are. Part of that might be because they impose harsh consequences on failure. For example, who else would come up with an alarm clock app that sends out embarrassing tweets whenever you hit the snooze button? More » […]
I recently returned from a trip to Argentina, where I spent the majority of my time in Buenos Aires. Of the many times I have been to Buenos Aires, this was by far the most interesting intellectually. My mom is Argentine, so I grew up traveling south every couple of years to visit her family. Because of this, I hadn’t seen many of the “touristy”--but of cour […]
Yesterday, I went on a walking tour of District 8 with Supervisor Bevan Dufty that was arranged by SPUR (rescheduled from its April date). Dufty was wise to bring along his friend Kathy Amendola of Cruisin’ the Castro Tours to help out, and I was pleasantly surprised that there was plenty to learn even though the neighborhood nearly borders mine and I have therefore spent a decent amount of time shopping and meandering in the area. Pictures (iPhone quality) are below. One interesting site was we visited was the Pink Triangle Park, which I had never seen or heard of before even though it’s right at Castro & Market (northwest corner).
At that park, Kathy shared a story so interesting that I had to fact check when I got home and of course, it was too good to be true. To be fair, it is not unusual to hear unverified speculation on tours (it’s one of Dan’s pet peeves when a guide starts with, “It is said that…” because what always follows is an unsubstantiated claim). Anyway, she shared the story of Alan Turing, an early and apparently very influential computer scientist who worked for the British government as a codebreaker during WWII. In 1952, he was prosecuted and convicted of homosexuality and was given a choice between serving time (and you know what kinds of things happen to sexual deviants in prison even now) and chemical castration via treatments with female hormones. Since homosexuality was a felony, conviction spelled the end of his professional life. He chose the chemical castration, and two years later committed suicide by biting a cyanide laced apple. All this is true and deeply saddening, but the guide went on to say that Turing is how Apple Computer’s early logo was inspired — a rainbow apple with one bite out of it. Unfortunately, interviews with the designer Rob Janoff debunk this theory of homage to the supposed father of computer science. In fact, the bite was for scale and to clearly distinguish the logo as an apple in lieu of some other kind of fruit, and the rainbow was to make the company friendly as it introduced the Apple II which was a home computer that they hoped families would buy.
Other highlights of the tour included talking to the present-day owners of the historic Twin Peaks bar which was the first gay bar to proudly bear street-facing windows (meaning that people could look in to see who was there), visiting a number of Harvey Milk-related sites, and getting inside the Castro Theatre to talk to its operator. Everywhere he went, Dufty was greeted by constituents. The major takeaway from the day was that being a politician is not as glamorous as one might think: yes, you get lead your community, but you also deal with really mundane things on a daily basis like parking complaints. This did not come as a huge surprise to me, and oddly enough, that juxtaposition of really gratifying and really mundane work doesn’t sound too different from the design/construction industry. That being said, I love how accessible our elected officials are. It makes me feel good about our democracy, however dysfunctional it is.
Near Harvey Milk Plaza
Pink Triangle Park
In front of Catch (restaurant), which was originally an auto body shop then a Harvey Milk site and then the location of the AIDS quilt
Near Harvey’s bar which in a previous incarnation was destroyed by a police raid. Across the street from Harvey’s is the Bank of America which was previously the Hibernia Bank and is the unofficial location of community vigils.
Harvey Milk’s camera store. A nice shop had opened here recently but folded due to the recession. Dufty is calling the building owner to deal with some new graffiti on the window.
Tour guide Kathy talking about the camera store and sidewalk plaques in front of it
This is some of the best street art I’ve seen in a while. It’s on Fillmore around Lassaut. It has grown on me since I first spotted it and posted this photo on Facebook. I did some searching around the internet and found a few snapshots of koi like these in the Mission from around 2007/2008 but did not find anything that might lead to the artist. I’m hoping that she/he somehow lands on this page in the future and contacts me so I can get some koi stenciled on a wood panel for my wall.
Update: Thanks to the magic of Facebook, a friend tipped me off that the artist is Jeremy Novy. Unfortunately, Jeremy’s web site is down and nothing on the internet provides contact info because it all links to his web site. Maybe one day he’ll find this post and contact me.
Voting for 12 of 30 mostly unknown DCCC candidates is a daunting task. It’s tempting to just skip it. What’s the DCCC anyway and why do I care?
Instead, I developed a system to efficiently determine which 12 candidates deserved my vote and I’m happy to share it with you in case it might help. In my opinion, you have half a chance of being a capable politician if you can either create a half decent website or at least hire someone to do it for you. I created a spreadsheet in which each candidate could earn a point in the following categories:
Has a website
Website design
Education
Work experience
Lack of egregious spelling/grammar errors
Quantity of content (so at least I know why I do not like you)
Bonus category (for items of interested not already captured by other categories)
An extra point could be achieved for exceptional performance in a particular category. Negative points were also possible. Dan joined and contributed scores after I was a little less than a third of the way through. To be fair about our political leanings: we are somewhat moderate and market/business oriented so we avoided overly progressive positions that are likely to be fiscally irresponsible.
Here’s a link to the Google spreadsheet if you want to use it. I’d say make your own but you’re nearly out of time.
I hadn’t even heard of the Tonga Room was until I started reading about the uproar over its potential closure starting around April of last year. In case you are living under a rock (or just not in San Francisco), the Fairmont Hotel where the Tonga Room has been operating since 1945 is planning a to redevelop its existing tower into condos and going boutique with the rest of the hotel. The Tonga Room, which doesn’t really fit the new program, has fallen by the wayside and disappointed nostalgic fans and preservationists.
Given that it probably won’t be around for long I thought I should check it out before it’s gone. From what I heard, it was supposed to be super cheesy, but not so! After a pleasantly warm day in the city, I was transported to an (albeit, expensive) evening on a tropical island. This place is legitimately cool. Seriously, they have sweet lava bowl drinks to share and flaming volcano desserts!
The Tonga Room was established in 1945 by Fairmont Hotel owner Benjamin Swig on the site of the original Fairmont Plunge. Built to leverage the growing interest in the South Pacific in the United States after the Second World War, the original theme of the bar was actually more nautical than Tiki. The space was remodeled twice, once in 1953 in the “Hawaiian” style, and again in 1967 by interior designer Howard Hirsch in the “High Tiki” style, using materials and elements supplied by Ocean Arts, a Whittier, California-based supplier of Polynesian artifacts. In 2007-2008, the Fairmont Hotel refurbished the Tonga Room with new upholstery, wall fabrics, and some additional new lighting fixtures.
The Tonga Room has a long and storied history in San Francisco’s dining and night life culture. In a city that has recently become obsessed with flash-in-the-pan restaurants and celebrity chefs, the Tonga Room, in all of its guises, has survived for 64 years in the basement of the Fairmont Hotel, a bastion of San Francisco’s pre-Dotcom night life culture. The Tonga Room that exists now is largely a product of the 1967 remodel by Santa Monica-based interior designer Howard Hirsch who used the products of Oceanic Arts, the well-known supplier of Polynesian architectural and decorative products, to recast the bar and restaurant into San Francisco’s best and most famous example of the late 1960s-era “High Tiki” style. In an era that has witnessed the toppling of most of America’s finest post-World War II Polynesian temples, the Tonga Room has remained, defying ephemeral trends in the hospitality industry. Today, the Tonga Room survives as one of the most ambitious and likely the best preserved of the mid-century Tiki lounges remaining in California, the state that invented the style and remains its final stronghold.
As my dining companion Camille adeptly put it, the Fairmont Hotel and associated Tonga Room is the kind of place you’d expect to encounter Mad Men’s Don Draper. It’s sad to (supposedly) be losing this gem, but I’m not one to hold on too strongly to the past. I plan to celebrate the Tonga Room, Mai Tai in hand, as much as possible before it closes its doors. Incidentally, my internet research on the Tonga Room led to the discovery that an updated Tiki bar called Smuggler’s Cove has opened in the space that formerly housed Jade, which used to be my favorite bar in not only Hayes Valley but the entire city.
These words came up in my Facebook feed last week. They were from Mayka, a childhood friend who I now know mostly through her blog. I read on and was disappointed to find out that, of course, this incident took place in San Francisco.
Before I satiate your curiosity with her story, let me explain why I am sharing this here. I’ve lived in Hayes Valley for almost four years, and for four years I had good intentions about attending a Hayes Valley Neighborhood Association (HVNA) meeting but it never quite happened. They’re always on Thursday evenings and somehow whenever the right Thursday of the month rolls around I either have other plans or don’t really feel like doing anything more than clearing out my Google Reader in my pajamas. The last time I received a copy of the Hayes Valley Voice, the incoming president of the association (who appeared to be a somewhat young woman!) encouraged neighbors to email her with ideas about what issues should get tackled. I shot her a suggestion that we work on getting the faded street banners replaced, and in her kind response she mentioned that I should drop by the next meeting. It turned out that the next meeting topic was public safety and that Police Chief George Gascon would be speaking. Apparently this is a big deal, but the topic was definitely not at the top of my list of neighborhood issues because I like to talk design-related topics. I decided that I needed to attend anyway because it would establish a pattern before another four years of good intentions flew by with no action.
For some reason or another, George Gascon got double-booked and the other event took precedence, so three police officials ended up doing the talking for him and and fielding questions. The meeting was both less and more than I expected. There was a lot of grandstanding. In typical government form, it was necessary to clap for each of many, many, public figures individually as they were introduced instead of holding the applause until the completion of all introductions. I wasn’t in a huge rush, but this ate up time that could have been used productively. It was super annoying that an unkempt man who had come to the meeting with the sole purpose of disrupting it wasn’t handled more gracefully (yes, this is a democracy but his “participation” was blatantly at the expense of others and an attempt to waste police time which equals public money). I was disappointed that there were very few young people in attendance.
I was impressed by the size of the crowd. This was no 20-person meeting. I was also impressed that two city supervisors had taken time out of their schedules to attend at least part of the meeting and were very approachable despite being the only suits in the room (proof via Ross Mirkarimi’s business card below). Finally, I really enjoyed hearing from the badass Captain Anne Mannix of the Northern Station. All three of the police presenters did their job well and made me feel good about what they were doing for our city, but she seemed to be the most prepared to answer the questions as completely as possible. She looked like she could kick anyone’s ass but she also plugged her twitter feed, @northernstation, which was unexpectedly innovative. I started following her and feel like I’m getting some great tips and staying more aware because of them.
At the meeting, the police talked at length about a biweekly meeting they hold where they reallocate resources as needed based upon the latest crime data plotted on a map. One attendee mentioned that her car had been broken into around 15 times in the neighborhood, and that got me thinking about how many of these types of crimes go unreported. Because, really, who in their right mind would report that 15th break in? It seems kind of pointless. In the city, I think there are certain types of crime that people get used to and start to treat like unfortunate realities that are never going to change. But it really is important that the government, the police, and the general public know the true extent of crime and where and when it is happening. Maybe there isn’t a full solution, but the information can be a very powerful tool. If there’s a clear concentration of similar incidents in a particular area, a foot beat might be assigned there. It won’t end all small crimes by any means, but it could provide some deterrence and catch a few perpetrators as examples for the others.
So, back to Mayka. Here’s part of her story. You can read the rest here.
This is not a pity party post. It is simply an “is what it is” post – which I know is everyone’s favorite meaningless conversation-ender. [...]
I parked my car just a block away from 1988. It being six or so in the spring evening, there wasn’t a hint of night coming up on the city. I crossed one couple as I walked down the slope of Polk. Ahead of me, the only other soul on the sidewalk was a tall Caucasian man, dirty, three full garbage bags hoisted over his shoulder. I kept walking downhill, newsstands on my right and the homeless man about to pass me on my left.
I saw him eye me in the most blatantly lecherous way possible. Having made the unfortunate mistake of making eye contact, I immediately shifted my eyes back to the sidewalk. He edged more toward the center of the sidewalk, though. I moved more to the right. I was just about to graze the sleeve of my lace cardigan against the grimy handles of the kiosks when he reached his left hand out and grabbed my crotch.
I had a bag hanging off my left arm, so he didn’t have such an open shot on me. I just kept walking, though. Didn’t turn around. Just went straight to the gallery.
I appreciated her need to tell this story. Not to make it right or to get sympathy but to get it on the record and say that it happened. I immediately thought that this type of information, if made public, might make some passionate opponents of sit/lie think twice. Incidentally, on the way to the HVNA meeting, an obviously deranged homeless man started yelling and Dan and me from half a block away. It prompted a series “fuck you”s between the two of them which surprised me because Dan’s not a particularly aggressive guy, but I didn’t really make out what the homeless man said about me because I wasn’t paying close attention (you learn to block these things out). Apparently it was bad enough that Dan refuses to repeat it to me. I commented on Mayka’s Facebook that she should file a police report, which can be done online (as I recently learned with the broken car window).
The combination of the HVNA public safety meeting and Mayka’s story really highlighted for me how important it is to treat all crimes seriously and make sure that the data is recorded so that we can make the most informed public policy decisions and optimize our use of the police force that we have.
I dragged Dan out to the Book Passage at Corte Madera (requiring a bridge toll to exit the city!) for the chance to hear from Chely Wright in person. This was the first reading/performance/signing on her schedule. The location definitely perplexed me given that the Book Passage also has a location on the Embarcadero. I can see why her publicity team would choose the Bay Area for practice with a receptive audience, but they kept plugging it as a San Francisco event when it was solidly 15 miles outside the city! Did someone not know that? Do they have different definitions of the city out in middle America? Is this location considered prestigious in literary circles? The crowd was reduced accordingly (though the space was at capacity) as Corte Madera is a town of approximately 10,000. Maybe they wanted an unintimidating crowd, but I think she could have filled a small San Francisco auditorium through the Commonwealth Club.
Chely read a few passages from her book though all from early in the book which I found to be the less interesting parts and then very graciously answered questions. She performed two songs which you can see in the video clip below, but then it was already time to sign books. Chely was more wonderful than one could reasonably expect as she earnestly connected with each and every person who waited in line with their books. I have been to a number of events like this and never seen an author work the room quite like her, but I guess she got more practice as a country singer than the typical author would get.
I asked what solution the bookstore had for owners of electronic copies of the book and CD. I’m a fan and all but it’s straight up foolish to buy multiple copies of the same thing. They were not very interested in my question. Ever the rebel, I got in line with my iPad anyway. Chely had not seen the Kindle version of her book nor had she seen the iPad before so despite my attempts to avoid attracting attention I caused quite the commotion.
But seriously Apple/Amazon, can we work on a finding a way to let artists and authors sign their digital work? Seems like a pretty simple problem to me.
That good government think tank, SPUR (the San Francisco Planning + Urban Research Association), has once again prepared an excellent Voter Guide for the June 2010 San Francisco city measures. I am always grateful for the balanced and nuanced guidance they provide and wish information of equivalent quality were available for non-city ballot issues.
I generally consider it more important to understand which propositions should be voted down than which should be approved (don’t they all usually sound kind of good at first?), so in case you’re too lazy to click through to the link, I am pasting the “No” summaries below.
Proposition C – Charter Film Commission
SPUR recognizes that making San Francisco a viable and competitive place to film movies and TV shows has broader benefits to the local economy. In addition to the obvious direct expenditures on labor, catering and other costs of a production, seeing San Francisco in movies and television shows reinforces our role as a visitor destination. Indeed, parks such as Alamo Square are tourist destinations largely because of their depiction in television shows.
But while tourism is San Francisco’s largest industry, film production is a small and declining part of our economic base. This reality does not deny the importance of the film industry. It simply suggests that there may be other industries or functions that might that be a higher priority for their own commission. Further, it is not clear that permit hurdles are the main problem for film production in the city. Additional marketing of the city as a location, or even possibly incentives for film productions, are more traditional economic development measures that are not contemplated in this measure. Finally, proponents of the measure did not make the case that the measure would measurably benefit the film industry.
Lastly, despite the recent trend toward splitting appointments to City commissions between the mayor and the Board of Supervisors, SPUR continues to believe that having all appointees answerable to one authority gives voters more accountability, and is likely to prevent political conflict between the Board and mayor from spilling over to the commissions. SPUR recommends a “No” vote on Prop. C.
Proposition E – Dignitary Security Budget
Transparency of dignitary security costs is important. However, this measure could politicize dignitary security budget levels by creating pressure to establish (and meet) budget targets based on political considerations rather than true need. While the measure could help the public understand more about how the Police Department spends its resources, the additional transparency would make no improvement in security or policy in this area, and could detract from it. It also sets a bad precedent that could expand line-item, ballot-box budgeting that could further politicize the budget and require needless specificity.SPUR recommends a “No” vote on Prop. E.
Proposition F – Rent Increase Suspensions
The intent of this ordinance is laudable. However, in seeking to solve the problem it intends to address—namely, creating protections for those tenants at risk of losing their housing due to changes in their income—the measure has the potential to create several unintended consequences, including creating unnecessary protections for higher-income tenants, the roommates of tenants who have experienced changes in income, and tenants who may voluntarily reduce their income or employment. SPUR recommends a “No” vote on Prop. F.
I have a confession to make: I love country music. Not just like, love. On the surface, this appears to be completely incompatible with my present day persona. Dan asks me why I listen to songs about “where the green grass grows” and I try to explain that they romanticize rural America, not suburbia, to no avail. Not too long ago, my roommate walked upstairs to find me pounding out emails at my desk with a Pandora country station playing loudly in the background and made a perplexed comment along the lines of: I just would never have expected that you would enjoy this music. This is also how I became the subject of a blog post back in 2008 entitled “Typically Hip Friend X Has Become a Fan of Taylor Swift.” My love affair with country started further back, but it felt somewhat subversive to be into it at my west coast high school. A lot of my high school identity, which was strongly influenced by and a reaction to my upbringing, has faded away, but not this. All I can say is that country is… ultimately joyful and uplifting?
Even though you may not have heard of country singer Chely Wright or hadn’t heard of her until the past few days, her coming out announcement was big, big news in my world. Wright is mostly famous for her 1999 hit “Single White Female,” but she’s been involved in the Nashville music scene for over twenty years. This is exactly the kind of kick in the pants that middle America needs to start to get on board with the marriage equality movement. In the post-L Word world, many of us on the coasts are well aware that “lesbian” doesn’t necessarily look like Rosie O’Donnell or Chaz Bono, but it’s easy for the red states to block out the elements of popular culture that conflict with their beliefs. Even the gay community criticized The L Word as male fantasy because apparently conventionally good looking, successful lesbians don’t exist in the real world. In a non-urban environment where it is unacceptable to be homosexual, only those who are unable to blend in come out of the closet or are outed, so the conventional image of the homosexual as manly girl or girly man persists. There is nothing wrong with harnessing your unique gender identity, but that is not what will change the hearts and minds of middle America. Look at this woman. She is beautiful. She is blowing minds. She could take her pick of men, but she’s gay.
Because of the anticipation leading up to the announcement–buzz about this story had been mounting for more than six months before it broke–the gay community was less than thrilled about the caliber of its newly-claimed star. This is a reflection of the left’s country music (and associated God, country, family spirit) stigma, but maybe that will recede; the liberal press appears to already be changing its tune. I’ll consider highlighting some of the most insightful bits so far, but this particular post is dedicated to Chely’s memoir, Like Me: Confessions of a Heartland Country Singer. Chely’s announcement has been carefully choreographed to coincide with the release of her book and new album, but if you wanted to attempt to manage your reputation and message amongst a crowd that could quickly and incorrectly denounce you as a sex-obsessed pervert, you would do the same. Thanks to my iPad and the magic of Kindle, I picked up a copy a few minutes after it became available and plowed right through it.
I took a seminar at Stanford on Gay Autobiography for one of my GERs and remember being annoyed by its male-centric point of view. The majority of the voices that we heard from were male, and while not all of them were good looking or successful, some role models were to be found. The women were fat, ugly, or outcasts. That didn’t make them uninteresting or unworthy, but it conveyed a certain message about the difference between gay men and gay women. I’m not sure the professor was to blame because the pickings in this category of autobiography seem to be particularly slim. Although I can’t say Like Me is the most well-written book I have ever encountered, Chely Wright’s perspective was such a contrast to what we read as women’s voices that I am considering emailing the professor to recommend that he consider reviewing it for inclusion in the class.
As you’ll see in some of my favorite excerpts below, Chely’s story is truly heartbreaking.
The more well known I became, the more people wanted to know about me. I understood, but I didn’t like it, because those inquiries became less about my songs and career and more about my personal life. [...]
So, when asked about my personal life during my career, I avoided details. I didn’t make up stories about some bogus, nonexistent boyfriend who lived out of town. When people in the business asked about my holiday season, I didn’t fill up my answer with what I thought would sound like a normal answer. I’d just say, “Oh, not much.” The best thing about my brevity was that some people got used to my responses and just stopped asking. I think it caused me to be known by many as simply being an extremely private person. Even my managers at the time, Clarence, Bob, and Mark, didn’t ask me questions, ever. Country music is like the military–don’t ask, don’t tell.
However, there were plenty of times with industry people, journalists, radio people, and fans that caused me to be sick to my stomach with fear. When asked personal questions that I simply didn’t want to answer, I’d give my standard curt replies. “Oh, I’m not married, because I’m married to my work.” “I’m just too busy to date.” “That’s kind of a personal question, don’t you think?” I’d say playfully. [...]
I didn’t hang out with many of my peers. I didn’t go out for star-studded nights on the town and socialize with my coworkers. I didn’t stay up late at night on the bus and engage in chitchat with the band and crew very often. Unfortunately, I think that approach caused me to gain a reputation for being cold and stuck up.
She [Julia] knew exactly why I worked the way I did–because that’s what it takes and nothing short of that will do. She just didn’t want me to do it. Had I been in her position, I would’ve had resentment too. She was forced, out of necessity, to become invisible. This very issue started out as a tiny little splinter under the skin of our relationship, but as the months and years went by, it began to fester. [...]
Because I had so many people who supported and love me, she’d often ask me why I needed that from her. For years, I tried to explain to her that I could have a million people screaming my name and cheering for me, but that didn’t fill the spot in my heart that one “Congratulations, I’m excited for you, and I’m proud of you” from her would fill. I was standing knee-deep in a river and dying of thirst.
The duality of my life became more pronounced, and I became even more expert in the betrayal of myself as an artist and as a woman. I would go do my appearance, satisfy my obligations, then go home to her. Once I did get home, there was never a question as to how my night had been. She did not want to hear a thing about it. It was hard for her to see mre do all of that and for her not to be acknowledged as my partner. I wanted her to be happy for my successes, but because she was so excluded she hated my success. [...]
Our reclusive ways were fine with us in most other ways because we simply enjoyed each other so much. We had a beautiful home, gorgeous gardens, adorable pets (dogs and fish), hiking, biking, vacations, holidays, cooking, cleaning, movies, Scrabble, jokes, talking–we never ran out of things to talk about. We had a life. We had a good life. Everyone struggles in intimate relationships, but I believe that the hiding and the secret of our being gay caused irreparable damage.
I didn’t want to lead Brad [Paisley] on, so I did what I’ve always had to do in situations like that–I pushed him away. I failed to return a couple of his calls, and finally he got the message. Another innocent person fell victim to my hiding. It was a cruel practice that I felt forced to use time and again.
As I made my way home from that impromptu trip to Memphis, I had a new understanding of being all alone. I had painted myself so masterfully into a corner, and I didn’t have a friend or a family member to turn to. When my friends would suffer a broken heart, their mothers would be the first to nurture them, saying, “Everything’s going to be okay, honey. I love you, and I’ll help you through this.” It was times like those that I felt cheated that I didn’t have a mother in my life. My mother hadn’t died. She was alive and relatively well back in Kansas. [...]
Her unwillingness or inability to be a part of my life corresponded with my hiding my homosexuality from her, which was convenient for me. On the other hand, my mother’s absence fell smack dab in the years when I probably needed her the most. I suppose I still had a fantasy of a selfless, kind-hearted mother.
I was an expert at telling my family about my life without actually telling them anything. No one knew my secret. Sometimes there is something so demoralizing about being the gay relative (in the closet or out of the closet) who travels to family functions. Because we often show up as a single person, without a mate, we are relegated to be the one to sleep on the floor or on the sofa or even with a niece or nephew in a twin Spider-Man or Stawberry Shortcake bed. I don’t know what that’s about, but it’s as if, since I never came home for the holidays with a husband and baby in tow, I was viewed as not yet being a grown-up. I did want to be there with my family, but more than anything I wanted to be able to let my false front crumble to the ground. It seemed that there was nowhere for me to be.
Self-destructive behavior is common among closeted gays, and I’m sure there are professionals who can tell you the clinical reasons why we do this to ourselves, but I can’t. In my case, I did it because I felt discomfort about where I was in my life, and and although I didn’t quite know what to do to remedy my situation, I made a decision to just do something–anything.
So I did. Brad [Paisley] and I began to be involved on a different level, romantically. [...] I thought he had a good way of managing his life and his career, and I felt that if I was going to compromise and be with a man, he’d be an amazing choice. We laughed a lot and he had quickly become one of my best friends. [...]
I also knew that Julia didn’t know what was really going on between Brad and me. I think there was a part of me that wanted her to know. I was on self-destruct. He loved the attention we were getting as a suspected couple, and he told me that he was having trouble not shouting it from the rooftops that he was in love with me. Oh, no. Love. He confessed his love to me. There were so many ways in which I did love him, but I was not in love with him. The first song we wrote together, as I mentioned before, was “Not as in Love (as I’d Like to Be).” [...]
My being with Brad did squelch some of the speculation that people had about me. I began to think that if Julia and I didn’t make it and Brad and I did … it just might be possible I’d escape this whole “gay thing” entirely. I began to hope it would play out that way and that any old rumors that I might be gay would be proven wrong. I just knew I’d be the one to take the hit, so to speak. I knew my heart would have to be willing to settle. I tried, I swear I did. [...]
It was stressful and I tried everything I could, except the truth, to get him to see that this was not going to work out. The way he saw it was that I lacked trust in him or that I didn’t really believe in love. My parents had divorced a few years earlier, and I tried to use the demise of their relationship in my strategy. I played the pessimist and agreed with him that I just didn’t believe that love could last forever and that I was not a person he’d want to invest his heart in. This just sent him further into warrior mode. He was going to be the one to not let me down. [...]
There was nothing about Brad’s behavior in the course of our relationship that was inappropriate. Yes, he was overzealous at times and a bit relentless in certain situations, but he was never out of line. I had been cruel to Brad, and I have cried a million tears about how I hurt him. I have not been ashamed of myself often, but I am ashamed of myself for choosing to be so cruel to another human being.
Lying and hiding cause so much pain. Brad was not the first man that I’d hurt in this way. The circumstances were different with Brad, though, because we were intimate, which made me feel so much more responsible. [...]
I appeared available to them. They thought that I was a single woman who just hadn’t found the right man and I was waiting to be loved.
I’d tell them that if they had feelings for me it would ultimately damage our friendship. I’d feel trapped and pull away in an attempt to spare their feelings. This behavior likely caused them to see me a little differently. Perhaps they titled me a bad friend, flaky, unreliable, and cold.
I hate that I forced some wonderful men in my life to believe those things to be true about me.
For years, I’d often been challenged with trying to figure out a way to include my partner in a family vacation without prompting my family to say, “Why is your friend invited?”
While their straight comrades get the luxury of saying out loud that they are homesick for their wife, their girlfriend, their husband, or their boyfriend, gay service members are mandated to keep quiet. If their partner has a car wreck and dies back home while they’re deployed, they don’t get to go home. Gay service members endure the same hardships, but are forced to keep their mouths shut or lose their career.
John [Rich] had just bought a new house ten minutes away and he asked me if I would go over and see it. I would never ask a friend to come to my house. Julia was there, and as a general rule we just didn’t bring people into our home.
I made a habit of not answering my phone, especially when the person who was calling was someone who didn’t know my secret. Every time my dad would dial my phone I’d let it go to voice mail and then call him back when I was ready. It was too difficult to make up a lie or omit the truth so frequently.
For more than a decade I’d spent all of my free time and most of my holiday time with Julia, and I got tired of making up little lies about what I was doing when a phone call came in. So I’d wait until a weekday, when she would be at work, and then I’d return calls. The trouble with my policy was that my dad was busiest during the week, and when I would call him back he was unable to talk. Months would go by without actually having any kind of real conversation, and it was driving a wedge between us.
When I found myself in the midst of my breakdown, I was surprised to realize that my financial security, which I once held in such high regard, meant absolutely nothing to me anymore. It didn’t matter to me in the least when I was balled up in my bed crying that I owned real estate, had fruitful investments, and enjoyed a diversified portfolio.
I began to realize that I would have been a happier person had I lived paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment with my dogs and my female partner, for all the world to see. For years, the thought of that had scared me, but as I began to fully take in my sad existence–and as I discovered how hard I’d worked to achieve a high mark that provided no consolation whatsoever–living and open life as a gay woman, no matter what the consequences, didn’t sound like such a bad idea. [...]
[...] [T]hose gays who couldn’t hide or wouldn’t hide were essentially holding a mirror up to my face and reminding me that because I could hide and I did, I was a coward. And I was.
For years I forfeited being with my partner during holidays because I wanted to be with my brother and his family, and I was put in a position of having to choose. Often I’d finish my tour a few days before Thanksgiving or Christmas, get off my tour bus in Nashville, pack another suitcase, and fly to where Chris and his family were stationed at the time. I was viewed as the sister who had no life outside of her career and nowhere else to be.
I couldn’t really say, “Hey, I think I’ll head out your way the day after Christmas because I want to spend Christmas Day with my partner.” I was no different from my siblings–I had a partner too. We had a home together, and she had a family that we would have liked to have visited.
I was hurt that Chris never acknowledged that I had shown up for my family even though I had other choices of how to spend my time–and what that must’ve been like for me.
Moving to New York was a big change for me. It is a place where I can be myself–eventually. This city is one of the most diverse places on earth, and it is much easier to blend in here than anywhere I’ve ever lived. That being said, I haven’t quite turned the page. I’m not living as an openly gay woman here yet.
I have been spoiled. Food will never taste the same.
To be honest, despite my general foodie-ness, I tend to think that too fancy a meal is wasted on me. I am picky about what meats I eat and only like a few varieties of seafood. I usually say that there are diminishing returns as food gets more expensive beyond a certain point, so I was skeptical that the French Laundry experience could possibly be worth the expense (even if I wasn’t paying). This menu actually scared me at first (really, no chicken in any of the courses?). I am typically vegetable-averse but went with the taste of vegetables for fear of having to force down odd meat parts. Fortunately my roommate had provided some crucial advice in advance: ask for what you want. So, I persuaded our server to substitute a few meat dishes that I wanted to try for veggie dishes that were less tantalizing.
After the amuse bouche my fear had completely subsided. And, yes, there were many little tastes between courses that are not even listed on the menu. This was the best meal of my life. I would go vegetarian in a heartbeat if vegetables always tasted this good.
A few of my favorite dishes were:
Pickled Jacobsen’s farm figs - green almonds, celery branch and lemon granite (The lemon granite was cold and unusual.)
“Tortilla Espanola” – yukon gold potato confit, French Laundry garden spring onions, charred onion oil, baby lettuce, and “sauce romesco” (The onions were especially sweet and delicious.)
“Beets and Leeks” – Maine lobster tail “pochee au beurre doux,” King Richard leeks, “pommes maxim’s” and red beet essence (I don’t think I’ve ever had a taste for leeks before but they were to die for.)
Coconut milk sherbet – vanilla-roasted Maui Gold pineapple, medjool dates, cashew nuts and candied ginger (Like being in Hawaii but almost better. Almost.)
I only snapped a few pictures, but you can see more at Jamie Fingal’s food blog (Dan’s stepmother).
(Above: asparagus, “Tortilla Espanola,” “Tomme du Berger” cheese)
The equivalent of an iPad worth of damage and — surprise! — there was nothing of value to take from my car. I try to remind myself that this is a small price to pay for (somewhat free) parking since I would spend as much on 2-3 months of garage parking and I’ve lived here without incident for 45+ months. But it’s still difficult not to feel a little violated.
26. Bay Area native. San Francisco dweller and all around urbanist. Owns multiple hard hats. Into walking, weekend brunch, decaying buildings, furniture, fusion cuisine. In pursuit of meaningful happiness. And gourmet cupcakes.
