02 February 2004

Oh, what you would change if you could go back! I appeared last night on the ultra-conservative Fox News show The O'Reilly Factor (if you click on this the download will take a long time; it's 64 MB) because I had written an article about the whole Janet Jackson/Super Bowl breast scandal and was asked to talk about it. I've gotten a fair amount of feedback mostly from friends and family and a few strangers who are very supportive (thank you all!), and some from strangers who are, well, not. You can read a couple of them on the site's message board, though I have to say it makes me rather glad they didn't mention my URL on air, as I'd asked them to (too late, though).

8 January 2003

An online journal is a funny thing. I wanted to create a space for myself where I could just blather on, or pontificate, or reveal my deepest, darkest secrets, embarrass myself, gossip, whatever, but the trouble is that, in fact, there's nothing anonymous at all about being on the web. You have friends, family, and coworkers to whom you wouldn't necessarily tell this stuff, people whose feelings you wouldn't want to hurt, jobs you wouldn't necessarily want to lose. So you censor yourself--I censor myself here. Constantly. It's weird. And kind of disappointing. But what can you do? With a voice comes responsibility. I'd rather be a decent person than totally free to say whatever I feel whenever I feel. But in other circumstances, I don't hold anything back. I've been interviewed now a few times for articles, and I just open my mouth and speak. I feel incredibly lucky to be able to do so, to be given a forum, any forum.

18 July 1999

8:40 p.m.

This weekend I saw two movies, Eyes Wide Shut directed by Stanley Kubrick and starring Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman; and Summer of Sam by Spike Lee, and I was so struck by the vast qualitative difference between these two films, as well as by the vastly different press that each has received, that I felt compelled to put it in writing.

6 March 2000

It has been a long time since I've contributed to my journal. Actually, it hasn't really been since August, but in moving and transferring files I accidentally deleted any later entries I had written, so I am beginning again.

This past weekend I participated in a panel discussion on the subject "Artist or Black Artist?" One of the reasons I readily agreed to participate was that I knew, in traveling, I would find some time to sit and write, something I haven't managed to do very much at all since I moved. While preparing myself earlier that day, I started to write my response to the question, so I thought I would include it here.

26 March 2001

We are still invisible in the picture.

I was going to write about driving and how bad most of us are at it and how we should really try to do better (yes, I had recently gotten a ticket, gotten indignant, gone to traffic school and then gotten repentant) but something else has caught my attention recently.

27 March 2002

Well, what a difference four months can make, huh? I haven't written an entry in a long time. Maybe I had nothing to say. I do today. I need a release, I guess. My relationship of six years is over. Poof. About three weeks ago my now-ex-partner, Carolyn, finished school (she had been going full-time plus working full-time for two years, nearly the whole time we've lived in Santa Fe), turned 40 the next day, and our relationship fell apart. I'm stunned, sad, devastated, hurt, mad, depleted. I love this woman. She was my life.