DWM at 24*

*pretend it's Saturday (09.02.82) at exactly 12 noon when I officially turn 24.

I am highly self-involved, socially evolved and morally devolved.
I am a free-spirit who loves a good story and welcomes an occasional scene.
I think cravings are healthy, addictions are normal and breakdowns should be expected.

I don’t avoid lust-triggers, Taint is my second middle name, and self control is a religion I will never understand.
I am more fun when I’m drunk, write better when I’m hungover, and could eat a dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts in one sitting.

I don’t play nice when I’m sober, I don’t experience embarrassment often and my dance moves are underrated.
I prefer orange juice over coffee, mimosas over bloody marys and I’ve probably drank more Malibu Coconut Rum in my lifetime to fill the pool in your parents’ backyard.
Little Debbies got me through college, beer is a taste I will never acquire and I refuse to buy a bottle of wine for more than ten dollars.

I don’t eat ice cream because of the texture and don’t date virgins because of the responsibility.
I am deprived of affection by choice, condone compulsive masturbation, and believe in little more than myself.
I don’t trust sex addicts, individuals who delete their online profiles or those who have never seen an episode of The OC.
I hate hype, I’m over animation and I like some sub-sets of country music.

I work well under pressure, but don’t like to be pushed.
I like to win, but I’m not very competitive.
I used to have a lazy eye and the symptoms have since moved to the rest of my body.

Bad timing is bad, but my timing is the worst.
MySpace is crack and Pop Culture is God.
Sobriety is blasphemy and revenge is useless.
Honest mistakes don’t happen and great minds never think alike.

Cynicism is my friend, Ethan Hawke is my lover and New York City is my home.
24 is scheduled to be a great age full of much more good than bad.
Here’s to making things work.

No turning back,
David Watts Miller

Am I Experiencing a Place-Holder Phase in My Life?

I’ve been feeling a little off lately. Okay, that’s an understatement. But the point is that something isn’t right. What that something is, I’m not sure. And I’m afraid that it might not just be something, but more like everything. Or I could be over-exaggerating my feelings, but just go with me here.

Something is definitely missing where my career is concerned. Actually, that’s just the thing! I don’t feel like I’m developing a career as much as using my current transition into project management as a professional place-holder—one in a long line of positions that keep me housed and fed until I figure out what I really want to do.

I just had my one-year anniversary of employment on August 1, and maybe that’s what has me thinking that it’s time for a change. It’s not that I don’t like (most of) the people, because I do. It’s not that I’m over advertising (completely). Maybe the steep learning curve is scaring me away, but I don’t think that’s it either. It’s more that I’m getting more and more frustrated by the uncertainty that’s flooding my mind in regards to what I want to do with my life.

Is an KBP exodus in order? Probably not soon. But something has to happen, or maybe it already has.

This is not a recent life development, but I have a continual need for newness.

(Everyone together now, DUH!)

It’s not necessarily that I get bored very easily, it’s more that I find many things very boring. It’s not necessarily that I have a short attention span, it’s more that I have a strong opinion of what is worth my attention. For some reason it’s much easier to know what you don’t like than to know what you do like. Likewise, it’s much easier to sense when something’s wrong then to know that something’s right.

I do know, however, that the only way to learn what is right for you is to experience things that are wrong for you. It’s just hard for me to deal with the lack of luck that I possess in the arenas of work & love.

My current situation where relationships are concerned is questionable. I’m in love with the idea of the ideal, and as we know the ideal is always unrealistic. I need to come to terms with a realistic idea of what love will be like when I find it. I’m just afraid that my standards for love are too high, and that my current degree of patience is too low. Where romantic interests are concerned, it’s hard not to jinx a relationship if you know that the person isn’t “the one” (or even “a one”). I find that my tendency to over-analyze hinders me from taking a relationship joy ride.

The “spark” that causes the venture to last more than one night disappears before you want it to, and you're left trying to hold on to something that you view as merely a place-holder relationship. This a disturbing pattern that I find myself plagued with lately. The connection feels good and right for a season. But just like with Mother Nature, seasons never last as long as you want them to. You can’t wait for them to get here, but after they arrive you can’t wait for their departure. And just like with most things in life, you don’t miss them until they’re gone.

This life is so typical sometimes that it’s pathetic, and the easiest thing to do is to be pathetic with it. But I don’t believe that’s a choice for me.

I have to keep looking, or rather keep preparing, for the next big thing. And for now, I’ll lean on the things I know for sure. I know that I’d rather have pain than what I’m experiencing now, which is a lack of any real emotion. I’d rather have the paranoia that drives me crazy and a relationship with chemistry to burn, than the (dis)comfort and restlessness that has to be written all over my face.

I need the paranoia, I need the pain, and I need to get off my ass and make something happen for myself.

I’m glad we had this little talk.

Now moving on to the important stuff, New Orleans is approximately 36 hours away and I’ve already packed my drinking shoes. Also on the list: my party hat, my dance moves and my birthday suit. Things to forget: dignity, inhibition and regard for everything and everyone.

It’s gonna be fucking fantastic. See you there.

Just Another Night @ Verlaine

So last night I organized a gathering at Verlaine to acknowledge/celebrate my 24th birthday. It was to be a gathering of my favorite friends acquired since moving to New York, and I was very happy with the outcome. It was a great opportunity for some great people to meet for the first time and for me to drink way too much as usual. It was also a great lead-in to next weekend in the Big Easy. Thanks to all who made it, I love you all in my own special way!

ME, KBH & JK

TC & ME

ME & RS

EJ & TH

ME, LM & TH

TH & P

Just What I Needed: A Weekend Escape to Paradise

I’m still not exactly sure what I was escaping from, but my mission was accomplished after an early morning ride on the L-I-double-R this past Friday! Our host picked up her benefactors at the Westhampton station and took us for a short drive before pulling the BMW into a ridiculously beautiful estate that just happens to be where her (KC) & her hubby (LC) live the good life when they aren’t on 3-month-long excursions to Italia.

It was immediately brought to my attention that I would not want to leave this place and might have to quit my job in order to accommodate my new lifestyle.

(Backstory: KT met KC shortly after moving to New York and securing employment at the Essex House, a luxury midtown hotel that the Mr. & Mrs. would stay at when in the City.)

After settling in, KT and I headed off to Splish Splash, the waterpark in the area where a friend lifeguards and was able to snag us comp tickets. We barely got our money’s worth, seeing as we rode two slides and called it a day due to the long lines of bitch-tits and screaming brats! So after having a possible run-in with swimmer’s-ear, athlete’s foot and an assortment of other reoccurring fungus-related ailments, we drove back to Paradise and promised each other to never leave the general vicinity again.

The evening brought swordfish for dinner and the Spanish Harlem Orchestra for dessert. We danced in the isles and soaked up the energy that comes from live salsa music played by a Grammy-winning 14-man orchestra. After returning from the Westhampton Beach Performing Arts Center, millions of stars awaited us and so did the jacuzzi!

(Sidenote: It’s never been more clear that hottubs/jacuzzis are on my top-ten-list of things that get me “wet”!)

We began Saturday morning with a stop at the Beach Bakery on Main Street (so effing cute) and a bike ride along the road running parallel to the beach. After feeling the burn, we ended up poolside for a full day of sun-bathing mixed with some clay-court tennis, ping-pong, and every good intention of kayaking on the bay. The kayaking will have to wait until next time, along with the ’66 Ford Mustang convertible that we never took advantage of.

One of the things I enjoyed most about the weekend was the appreciation for the art of (great) cooking. KC is all about cooking with the best and freshest ingredients, and she never failed to use the prep time leading up to each meal as an opportunity to teach us youngsters about all things culinary. I find it intriguing to watch someone who knows their way around a kitchen, and what a great kitchen it was!

So Saturday was a night to eat (Italian), drink (fine wine) and pass out early (in my case). I remember trying to follow a game of ping-pong between two of the other visitors (one of which was a tall, dark drink of I-wanna-tap-that water) and then being sent up to bed by KT. Good times.

Sunday was nothing more than a siesta-of-sorts for yours truly. I got some more great sun and reached the pinnacle of relaxation around lunchtime, after which I was reminded that my time in Paradise was quickly coming to a disturbing halt.

KC drove us to the station with moments to spare, with our care-package of host-prepared goodies in tow. A quick switch in Jamaica and we were pulling into Penn Station in no time. A split cab later and I was in the relative comfort of my own apartment feeling a sting of dread while contemplating the Monday ahead.

Escaping was easy. Returning is always difficult. But at least I had three days to enjoy the good life, get some good sun, experience some great food and spend some much-needed time with just me and my thoughts.

May the next 11 days fly by and New Orleans welcome me with open arms and no hard feeling for staying away so long! The reunion is going to be ridiculous to say the least.

Getty with anticipation,

DWM

You Must Watch This Commercial

The Bad, The Good, & The Yet to Come

I believe myself to be a recent victim of a sub-par haircut. Not that it looks terribly horrendous, but it’s not the best haircut I’ve ever had by far. But I also believe that it has the potential to eventually work itself out. And if it doesn’t get better with time, there’s always next time around, right?

We always hope that the next thing in our lives will be the best thing, but reality doesn’t always indulge us in that idea. It’s interesting to me how we as humans rate things. How do we know what bad is unless we have experienced the good? How do we know what good is unless we have experienced the bad?

Because, after all, everything is relative in this world: from food to alcohol, from beer to wine, from movies to television, from sex to relationships. There are so many different kinds of each, with none of them being created exactly equal.

I believe strongly that it is necessary to experience the bad in order to know and appreciate the good. Is the universe actually doing us a favor when it sends horrible experiences our way? Or is this just my jaded existence and tendency toward masochism showing through?

I think we must learn not only what the good is, but also how to recognize the great when it’s staring us in the face. Where the bad is concerned, I find it to be much easier to identify, with the worst being a little trickier. And where does the mediocre stuff come in, or should that even be allowed?

The only thing I know for sure is that the best is yet to come. I have no idea what form it might come in, or if it’s already here, but I hope to god I will be ready to accept it and think long and hard before fucking it up.

On a lighter and totally unrelated note, go see Little Miss Sunshine, a Sundance Indie about a family determined to get their young daughter into the finals of a beauty pageant. It involves a cross-country trip in a VW bus, and it will have you laughing out loud. I give it the Feel-Good-Movie-of-the-Summer award! It’s only a coincidence that the tagline for the film is “A Family on the Verge of a Breakdown”. :)
Enjoy.

Dan Savage: New Favorite

Click on the title of this post to read a great sex column.

Go to the page below to read more about my new favorite person Dan Savage, the writer of this great sex column.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dan_Savage

And he's kinda adorable, would you say?!