'Tis the season.

The holiday season is upon us.

I love the holidays for many reasons. There is enough sparkle and glitter in the decorations to blind a drag queen. You are never too far away from cookies, candies, and other various baked goods (I'm a sucker for the various holiday themed funfetti products). There is vacation time to lay around and eat the aforementioned cookies and watch the ubiquitous holiday specials (Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, How the Grinch Stole Christmas!, and A Charlie Brown Christmas are staples at my house, as well as newer holiday movies like The Muppet Christmas Carol and Elf).

The holidays also means lots of time for family and friends. Which inevitably turns into many familial queries into my love life.

There are many occasions through the year when my relationship status is a topic of conversation. Family get-togethers. My cousin's weddings. My neighbor's weddings. Random strangers' weddings. I have caught many a bouquet and had many cackling family members inform me that I'm next or that my time is coming.

But the holidays are a special "what, you still don't have a boyfriend!?" time. For one, it's guaranteed that I'll be talking to my grandparents on the phone. Or yelling at them over the phone, depending on the state of their hearing that day. And, in the case of my 95 year old grandmother, I will be asked if I have a boyfriend multiple times, as she can't remember what she had for dinner, much less what she's said in conversation.

Over Thanksgiving dinner at my aunt and uncle's house, my mother was telling the story about her search for a new dining room table.

"I want to make sure that it's large enough, because I'm sure soon we'll have the kids' significant others joining us for holidays and dinners," she said.

I snorted demurely into my mashed potatoes.

She shot me a look.

"Don't worry, you can bring your gay friends. Or your cats."

I hate having to make these posts.

I hate having to make these posts. Hate it. HATE IT.

Last Tuesday, one of the students who attends the school where I teach, J, went missing. On Wednesday, his body was found. On Thursday, we found out that another of our students had been arrested and confessed to the murder.

We may never know what really happened. The story has been changed several times. The one that he's going with right now is that J gave him a ride home and made a sexual advance. He says he then beat J with a wooden rod, took his body to the field where it was found, and attempted to burn his body. However, the inconsistencies have been numerous (first he said that J grabbed the rod first; when J's body was found, his hands and feet had been bound; he changed the location of the attack twice before the police discovered blood in his father's backyard; a fake Facebook account with J's name showed up while he was missing, so police believe that multiple people are involved).

What infuriates me almost as much as the senselessness of the tragedy is the reason that he gave for committing it. No one believes the sexual advances story, luckily, including the police. But the fact that it even went through his head, "if I say that he came on to me, it will be more understandable," sickens me. I know that it isn't what really happened but the fact that he attempted to claim gay panic makes my blood boil.

My thoughts and prayers are with J's family, as their ordeal is far from over. If you are the praying type, please say an extra one for his family and friends. Several of my students are having trouble dealing with understanding why and how this happened. I hate that they are being exposed to such evil, especially since the evil has come in the form of a classmate.

I don't think you're ready for this jelly.

A few things I learned at the screening of Beyonce's concert DVD.

1. Beyonce can bring the gays out in every country she goes to. I saw you in the camera shots of the audience, gays, and I appreciated your devotion and unadulterated obsession with the Queen B. You made me proud.

2. All of the supporting musicians and singers (and most, but not all, of the dancers) were women on Beyonce's world tour. Love. It.

3. If you are faster on your smartphone than the rest of the audience during "Beyonce Trivia" it can win you a head to toe outfit from Tina Knowles' fashion line.

4. Watching Beyonce be amazing and epic will inspire you to go to the gym like you have never been inspired before.

5. Glittery ass-bows make everything better. Everything.

6. If a glittery ass-bow isn't possible, glittery eyebrows will work in a pinch. And Beyonce has some great eyebrows.

7. When in doubt, call on the spirit of Michael Jackson to guide you. It will also probably make me verklempt, so use this sparingly.

8. Free drinks from the bar upstairs makes audience participation a little more obnoxious. I'm looking at you, rude and annoying guys sitting in front of us.

9. Beyonce is a sweet person. There were clips of her from a video diary she made during the tour, and she is soft-spoken and grateful and charming and just....sweet. She really is the complete package of sweet girl and kickass diva.
That bitch.

Seasons of love.

The very first Broadway show I ever saw was "Rent."

I was 17 and a senior in high school. I was in New York City for a week because I had made the National ACDA Honor Choir and was with three other students and a handful of chaperones. Our week was spent in rehearsal from 8 am to 6 pm. It left very little time for sightseeing, but we still managed to get in a few tourist ventures.

My boyfriend at the time had made the Men's Honor Choir, which had a different rehearsal schedule than the one I was in -- there was one night when we had a late night rehearsal and his did not. So he and one of the chaperones saw a Broadway show. I don't even remember what show it was now, but at the time I was so mad. All I wanted to do was see a show, and that asshole not only got out of rehearsal early but got to see a show on Broadway? Oh hell no.

I bitched and moaned enough that one of the chaperones had pity on me and called in a favor to one of her friends. It turned out that her friend was friends with the guy playing Benny in "Rent" and he hooked us up with front row seats.

"Rent" remains one of my favorite shows to this day. When I originally saw it, I was 17 and from a small town and had never met an out homosexual in my life. As I sat in the audience, bawling my eyes out during Angel's death and Collins' "I'll Cover You: Reprise" and Roger and Mark's fight, as cliche as it sounds, my life changed. I love everything about the show -- the songs, the message, the staging, the characters. It introduced me to my first drag queen. And what a fabulous drag queen she was. I have now seen a variation of the show more times than I can remember, and I am reduced to tears every time. Sloppy, inconsolable weeping.

When we got back to Texas, there were only a few months until graduation. My choir did a spring concert that had a Broadway theme, and, like thousands of show choirs before us, we performed "Seasons of Love." Also cliche, but I love this song. So much. It's one of my favorite songs from the show. It makes me believe that love is indeed all we need. There is a major lack of love in the world and it's songs like these that make me realize that I need to make sure that I'm spreading as much love in the world as I can. I admittedly am prone to getting caught up in the negatives in life, so it's nice to have a reminder that my energy -- everyone's energy, really -- is better spent with love.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love? How about love?
How about love? Measure in love

Seasons of love
Seasons of love

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Journeys to plan

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life
Of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

It's time now to sing out
Though the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends

Remember the love
Remember the love
Seasons of love
Seasons of love
Seasons of love

-- Seasons of Love ; Jonathan Larson

All the single ladies.

Sometimes it pays to have gays in high places.

One of my friends works for Music World Entertainment, the record label run by Matthew Knowles in Houston. He texted me earlier to inform me that I was now on the list for the VIP screening of Beyonce's new concert DVD.



So on Wednesday I will be on the red carpet with three of my good friends and all of Houston's finest to watch Beyonce in concert -- on a screen, sure, but at least I won't have had to pay ridiculous Ticketmaster fees. Don't be j.

You're so vain.

One thing I will never understand is what exactly takes these guys so long in the bathroom.

Now, I like to look as attractive as the next girl. I have been known to do my fair share of primping. I feel like I'm an average amount of vain. I probably don't think this song is about me or anything, but I do like to look good and will spend a fair amount of time doing so.

But these boys. God damn.

This past weekend, I was in a play and three of my wonderful boys drove down for two hours to see it. They came in a few hours before the show so we were able to have dinner and relax before it was time to go. I had told them that my call time was at 7 so that we were all on the same schedule.

About an hour before we had to leave, the boys started trickling inside to begin their primping regime. I sat outside for a little longer, because I knew that they needed ample time to get ready to be seen by the public.

There were multiple wardrobe changes. One section of hair got flat-ironed three separate times. Three times. I know this because I watched. An ozone hole's worth of hairspray was applied to their hair. And I had to physically move a toiletry bag out of my way so I could wash my face and brush my teeth, and you do not even want to know the bitchface I was given for doing that. I was the one who was going to be onstage in front of hundreds of people, yet I was the one who had to fight for counter space.

It is exhausting trying to keep up with the bathroom habits of these guys. On the one hand, it has made me pay more attention to my appearance, because god knows they would not let me be seen in public if I had not swished it up a bit. On the other hand......it takes an hour for them to get ready to go out for the day. By the time they're ready for the day, it's almost time to get ready to go out for the night -- and that takes even longer.