My Life Now

It is now the middle of October, and much has happened in the past few months. I secured my position within the Tyler Perry empire in the second half of August, worked my ass off in September, and Atlanta Gay Pride was this past weekend.

I left off complaining about my previous living situation where two of my three roommates were gossiping about me. I won't rehash; you'll have to read the previous posts. However, I will mention that I recently found out that the owner of the house would periodically ask my good friends, who would visit me at home, if they were sleeping with me. Disgusting!!

Moving on: many of my friends and acquaintances want to know exactly how I got a job with Tyler Perry. The sensitivity surrounding this accomplishment doesn't allow me to divulge much, however, I will tell you what I can.

In mid-August, I quit my previous job as employment consultant in downtown ATL. I was unhappy, uncomfortable, and too inexperienced to continue to find work for welfare moms. It was actually a worthwhile learning experience, and it taught me how to be more aggressive when looking for work for myself. Before I quit, I started sending out my resume to employers, but I remained unemployed for about three weeks. In the meantime, I brokered a couple of successful real estate deals which kept me afloat financially. At the same time, my brother, Bill, moved to Atlanta, and we found an apartment which we moved into over Labor Day Weekend. Toward the end of my unemployment, I started to get desperate. It's a tough job market out there, and I was starting to panic. I found job postings on many of the websites I used at my previous job, but I also looked at Craigslist daily. I noticed a cryptic posting for an office assistant, but there was no company info. I sent my cover letter/resume, and an hour later (at 9pm), I received a phone call from Tyler Perry Studios. I was a little shocked, and when they asked me to come to the studios the next day, I wanted to say, "SERIOUSLY????" The interview was quick; I got the impression they wanted to hire me on the spot. But my future boss said, "go get lunch; I'm going to mull this over. Call me in an hour, but stay in the area."

As I walked into the Greenbriar IHOP, an excited and optimistic energy left my body and touched the people I came in contact with. I couldn't stop smiling. After a brief phone call to my now-boss, I returned to the studios. This meeting was also brief, and I returned home beaming. I told Bill that if my phone rang, all noise within the vicinity must cease. At 8pm, I received the call . . . and I got the job! They liked my education, my modelling and real estate experience, and they felt that I could represent Mr. Perry best out of all the candidates who interviewed.

That was a Friday night, so naturally, I went out all weekend and celebrated with my close friends. That Monday, the long hours, the stress, and the excitement began. The first week was full of lots of travelling around Atlanta and meeting the many people who make his movies and TV shows possible. I visited his homes, the airport he uses, and the places I needed to be acquainted with as part of my new job. In a nutshell, I represent Mr. Perry in day-to-day situations that he is too busy to handle. The exciting part is that wherever I go while working, I'm treated like a rock-star, and by-standers constantly try to figure out who I am. Don't worry; none of this has gone to my head. In fact, I treat people with more respect now. I'm constantly reminded that I am only representing a celebrity, that I am not one myself. Instead, it's a humbling experience, and I'm amazed that these experiences enter my life to teach me a lesson. Everything happens for a reason, and I'm delighted that this is my life now.

Shortly after I started, I cancelled my trip to Southern Decadence, New Orleans for Labor Day Weekend so that I could move in with Bill. We moved to a cheap, slightly cramped 2/2 apartment by Peachtree-DeKalb Airport for the purpose of saving money to get a new car next year. (I also desperately needed to remove myself from the drama of my previous home.) At some point during our new lease, Bill's wife, Margot, and their 2 yr. old, Nicole, will join us in Atlanta. They are temporarily living with my Dad in New York until they move. I'm so excited to be living with family for the first time in 16 years! Especially since I've been single for most of my five years in Atlanta.

But I'm not bitter! I received tons of appreciated attention when I attended the 2010 Atlanta Cotillion on September 18th as Julio Leyva's escort. Yes, I went in a tux, for a change. I was so proud of Julio for the great job he did fundraising all summer. He is a hero in my eyes!

But the fun didn't stop there! Last weekend was Atlanta's Gay Pride festival and parade, and two of my dear friends from Boston spent the weekend here. We had so much fun running around, seeing so many people I hadn't seen since starting my new job, and going to the packed events, that we didn't get to everything. I was supposed to march in the parade with the Cotillion clan, but at the last minute, I had to drive a friend to the airport, and then go to work for a couple of hours. I just keep telling myself that I LOVE MY JOB!

Drinks at Work??

I thought I had landed the perfect job when I started as an account executive with a company in downtown Atlanta at the end of May. My task was to find work for uneducated, inexperienced, single mothers who accepted government assistance. They were required to participate in our program, and Fulton and Dekalb Counties commissioned us to find them minimum wage positions so that they could more quickly move from accepting welfare to being self-sufficient. As I accepted the position that many vied for, I thought to myself,

"My writing is good, and I know how to assemble a resume. My phone etiquette is good, so I can be persuasive when speaking with employers. If a client gives me attitude when I instruct them on how to job search, I can give it right back."

I was convinced that if anyone could do this, I could. This confidence was exactly what I needed to start. My boss liked me, my co-workers liked me, and everyone thought I was going to do quite well. I enjoyed going to work, and the clients were genuinely appreciative when I gave them advice and job leads. The employers were a bit cold to me at first, but I worked on building rapport. I was on the phone looking for jobs, and I was building confidence in my clients. I went to networking events and looked for jobs. I sent my clients out every day to look for jobs with employers I had gotten to know. But there were several things that I neglected to consider.

One was the same thing I didn't think of when I decided to do the Atlanta Cotillion last year. How many contacts can I really call upon after only four short years of living in Atlanta? Could I seriously call upon my friends and ask them if they know of anyone hiring, when half of Atlanta was looking for a job? I persevered, and I succeeded in finding many low wage jobs at restaurants, hotels, in offices, etc. The second thing I didn't think about was, just because I found a job for someone doesn't mean they're going to get hired. Huge gaps in employment, no experience at all, or a serious criminal record hindered my clients, and I began to get discouraged. My persuasive selling techniques were failing, and I was falling short of my quota.

Then something unexpected happened. An account executive who was out on medical leave for many months returned to the company after having beaten cancer. He was an incredibly personable guy, and he was originally from Boston. He had the accent that I thought I hated, but when he spoke, leaving out his r's, I melted a bit. I fell for his charm, and soon we were drinking together.

As I became more and more discouraged with my lack of progress, I began to also experience the insomnia that had developed in my final years of drinking. He encouraged me to drink before bedtime, but I said I couldn't do that. That I didn't want to go down that road. I didn't feel it was appropriate to reveal my alcoholic status to my co-workers, especially since I was beginning to feel as though I wasn't cut out for the job.

I started to call in sick on Monday's after Sunday Funday at Blake's. I felt like a failure. I'd go into work as though I had my head down. I was ashamed.

I looked for a new job, but without finding one, I quit in mid-August. A weight lifted from my shoulders. I was fairly confident that I could find one that was not in employment. I hoped for a real estate job again.

Around the same time, I convinced my brother, Billy, in Connecticut, to move to Atlanta. I knew his IT skills were superior to most in Atlanta. He came down and stayed in my extra room for a couple of weeks. It was so nice to be around family again. I communicated with my roommates about his stay in advance and gave them updates as we spent time together touring his new city.

Unfortunately, a couple of my roommates were more interested, not in my brother's stay, but in a nasty, untrue rumor that, not only was I drinking again, but I was also doing drugs. Drugs were never my thing. My drug of choice, and my downfall, had always been alcohol. I am an alcoholic of an extreme case, however, I am NOT a drug addict. Many times, I had heard in the program that they are one and the same. This is not the case. Alcohol works on the alcoholic over time, convincing him that he can handle more. Drugs take the addict down FAST. But I want to make it very clear that I am not saying one is worse than the other. We are all equal; addicts, alcoholics, and our friends, the normal people. If my life went in a different direction, I could have been a drug addict AND an alcoholic.

The Big Book is the end-all for many. It certainly was my "bible" for over a year. I read it, and re-read it, from cover to cover. But for me, it was my launch-pad. I really knew nothing about true spirituality, so I started reading the books of Ekhart Tolle, my present spiritual guidance. I also ventured into Buddhism and Scientology. In college, I studied medieval philosophy, which is essentially Catholicism, and I had had enough of that. I heard many times in AA meetings, "AA doesn't have the patent on spirituality." But then, why do so many stay within the safe confines of the program? Is thinking too dangerous for us?

Anyway, back to the story. I began to get frantic phone calls from genuinely concerned friends. I say it that way because there is a difference between concern and gossip. I could hear in each of their voices, whether they were wondering if they needed to talk to me, or if they selfishly wanted to verify the dirt they discovered. I parted ways with my roommate, who I used to trust and consider a friend, after I found out that an ex of his entered the house while I was out of town with a key he still had, entered my bedroom, and spread crystal meth across my coffee table. I didn't know what it was and thought nothing of it. I cleaned it up and threw it out, but I still wondered what that stuff was. I didn't bring drama to our house, but my roommate and his trashy boyfriends certainly did.

I end this post on a bitter note, but with a promise to my audience that the good news comes shortly thereafter. If I've kept you interested to this point, please hold on until the next chapter. Just as my last post, I had to get this off my chest.

Pensacola . . . the Untold Story

This summer has been tough, to say the least. And when I say things never turn out the way they're expected to, the passed few months have been no exception. Despite the difficult times in my life which have definitely made me stronger, this summer will be one to remember; one that tested my strength, and one that will never let me forget that I'm only human.

As I wrote in an earlier post, Memorial Day was a hoot. However, probably the most significant event throughout the entire weekend was my relapse, which, of course, I intentionally left out. I was scared, ashamed, but defiant. It happened the night before Memorial Day. I had been in Pensacola for four days at this point, and the next day, we were going to drive home. I was in my car driving through a rainstorm alone, trying to find a place to eat. I was staying with a bunch of friends, some in the program, and some not.

I had been sober for three and a half years.

I drove around for over an hour, not because I couldn't find a place to eat, but because I was trying to talk myself into having a drink. I had earned it, I thought. Not only had I turned my life around, but I had also matured to the 34 year old who had just landed a new job in only seven days. I had been working out for two years, and I had become the person I always wanted to be. I was loved and admired by so many, and I had succeeded in seeing a monumental project through from start to finish: the Atlanta Cotillion. I had money of my own, I was travelling, and I had friends and family I loved.

I realized as I drove that it was midnight, and the partying would only last for a few more hours. I grabbed fast food, and headed to Emerald City alone. All weekend, I was surrounded by beautiful, scantily clad boys. Although I knew many of those from Atlanta, and I was making new friends, I felt totally alone. I arrived at the club, quickly said "Hi" to some people I knew, but I was acting as though I was looking for someone. I was looking for a bar that had no Atlantans around it, so that I could order a drink. The decision was made long before, and my mind was made up. As I ordered my drink, I could barely believe I heard those words leave my mouth. It was done; I took my first sip as if I were drinking some sort of poison. I was scared because I had no idea how it would affect me. Would I be drunk off the first drink? I was slightly panicked. The first one was weak, but my alcoholism kicked in. I needed to find a male bartender in another secluded bar to make me a good drink. I got what I wanted, and then went and danced with my friends. The club was packed, so I spent the rest of the night socializing. After hanging out for a while, I went back to the hotel and went to bed.

I need to get this off my chest, partly because the drinking didn't end here, and I now realize the entire summer may take several posts. Also, a few months after drinking openly and honestly, the rumors began that I was also doing drugs, a myth that hurt my feelings, and I developed a resentment toward the gay recovery community. I consider myself an open book; someone who lives a somewhat private life, but also someone who is honest. As I continued to drink, so did the gossip. And ultimately, I realized, I was headed right back to where I started on 12/04/06, my (former) sobriety date.

"Never regret. If it's good, it's wonderful. If it's bad, it's experience." - Victoria Holt

AC 2010

My Dear Friends,

We are now only 9 Days away from the 2010 Atlanta Cotillion, and I am reaching out to you for a final appeal for donations to help this incredibly worthy cause. The money collected by the debutantes goes directly to AID Atlanta, an organization that helps our own community, by providing life-saving medication for those living with HIV.

My great friend, Julio Leyva, has gone above and beyond this summer by hosting SIX fundraisers, all very successful! Not only has he surpassed my 2009 total, but he has also tapped into the community with his gentle, friendly demeanor. He has reached out to people within the gay community who have never heard of the Cotillion, and all the good it does. His efforts to educate people throughout our diverse city have been nothing short of fearless. I am honored to be escorting him to the Atlanta Cotillion this year.

Despite his successes, he still needs help in these final few days, so please don't wait! Contribute TODAY!!

Please help in one of two ways:

• Visit Julio's Cotillion page and make a donation of ANY amount. All donations are appreciated, especially in these difficult financial times;
• Come with us to the Ball itself on September 18th! I promise you will have the time of your life! Seats at the Ball are $150/person, unless you attend in an evening gown; the price then drops to $75/person.

Follow this link to make a donation or to purchase seats (don't forget to choose Julio as your deb):

http://www.atlantacotillion.com/Page.aspx?pid=402&frsid=17399

Please feel free to contact me should you have any trouble with the Cotillion website, or if you have any questions about Cotillion.

From the bottom of my heart, Thank you!!

--
Kevin L. Malin

Cotillion Class of '09
www.KevinMalin.net

(404) 245-1324 cell
(404) 601-7833 fax

Cotillion!!!

All I have to say is, "WOW!!" The 2009 Atlanta Cotillion was an incredible evening! It's the day after, and I'm on such a high, for so many reasons. As the photos pop up on Facebook, it's hard to really think of anything else in the world right now. The event itself was soooooo much work, but the rewarding feeling of fulfillment will keep me glowing for weeks. The makeup will eventually wash off, but I'm a changed man forever.

The idea of the Cotillion itself is so unique: a drag ball to raise money for a charity close to our hearts. It's such a great way to bring the community together. And now, after almost four years of living in Atlanta, the gay community here is MY community. We all did something GOOD for our fellow man, but at the same time, we had such a fun time!

During this passed week, between work and selling a condo, I was BUSY picking up pantie hose, eyeliner, dresses, wigs, shoes, and everything else to complete my look. On Friday night, my good friend, Jason, who was going to style my wig, called me with some bad news. A tree fell on his house, and he hadn't done the wig yet. I was freaking out, but he assured me that it would be ready for the Ball. I got off the phone with him, picked up my white gown from my friend, Jeffrey, and then went home to shave my body. I don't grown much hair, so it was a quick and easy process.

On the day of the Ball, Julio and I met the other debutantes at noon at the venue for a rehearsal. We had done one earlier in the week where I walked in my brand new heels for the first time. Walking in heels came to me a little easier than I had expected. I kept catastrophizing the future in my head, and I thought I'd fall off the runway at the Ball or something crazy.

At about 2:30, I went to Phoenix's apartment for my makeup. Phoenix is an incredibly talented drag queen who regularly gives show-stopping performances at Blake's, Jungle, and other places in the city. She's also an extremely talented makeup artist, and because this Ball was so important, I wanted the best team helping me. In an hour and a half, Phoenix transformed me into a beautiful, sexy, Latina temptress. My expectations were exceeded, and I started to feel more and more comfortable playing the part of my other persona, Chelsea.

My escort, Julio, and I, returned to the Foundry at Puritan Mill (the venue for the Ball) for rehearsal number three, an hour and a half before guests would arrive. I spent a considerable amount of time after rehearsal in the bathroom trying to tape my boobs properly so they wouldn't move. I also had two sets of jewelry to coordinate with my red-carpet dress, and my white ball gown. Being in drag is hard work! But, people were amazed at how beautiful of a woman I was. I received compliments all night long.

My good friend, Jeffrey, who also was the star of my Cotillion fundraiser, Laughter is the Best Medicine, co-hosted the night with Q100's Bert Weiss. Bert stood on a milk crate behind the podium because he's pretty short, and Jeffrey, all done up in drag, towered above him. As they began presenting the debutantes, I began to get nervous for the first time. My heart started beating faster as I walked up the stairs of the stage, and I saw Julio on the other side, ready to walk out with me.

"Presenting, Miss Chelsea Fitzgerald de Rothchild!"

I walked to Julio on stage, did my curtsy quite well, and then walked the runway. A cheer rose from the crowd as I confidently walked to the end, and then back to Julio, where I curtsied a second time. This was a MUCH bigger deal than the time I walked the runway in a New York fashion show as a Tommy Hilfiger-exclusive in the mid-90s. As I walked down the front steps into the crowd, Julio held my hand to assist me. My knees buckled a bit, but I made it to my table to sit and relax for a minute with Julio, Jay, and Jeromy (the star designer from my Fashion for a Cause Party). Two guys in drag and a guy in a tuxedo who sat at my table, I didn't know. They were incredibly sweet, loving guys who explained that they decided to support my campaign without knowing me because of what I had written as my reason for entering the fundraiser contest. It had been published in David magazine and on the AID Atlanta website. I was floored by this, and I had to keep from shedding any tears as they would have messed up my mascara.

The debs met backstage one last time for the crowning of the Queen, the winner of the fundraiser. I knew I wasn't going to win, and I was totally fine with that. Bert and Jeffrey asked Michael and Alex to step forward as the two top fundraisers, so that they could reveal the winner American Idol-style. Michael was crowned Queen, and he danced with his crown on the runway. I'm so genuinely happy for him!

Our show came to an end - but the night was only beginning. We all felt like beautiful celebrities as we walked into the crowd and greeted people who wanted photos with us. Shortly thereafter, I put my purple dress back on and slid into my sneakers. Julio, Jeremy, and I snuck out and went to my place. We sat down on the couch for about a half hour and watched the making of Janet Jackson's tribute to Michael on the VMAs a week earlier. After our quiet break, we hopped in the car and headed to Jungle, where the official Cotillion after-party was getting underway.

Jungle was packed with all types of gays that night. Hot circuit boys, beautifully coiffed drag queens, twinks, and bears, were everywhere! The promoters sectioned part of the club for the Cotillion attendees, which was where I parked myself whenever my feet throbbed. I sat down next to a dead-ringer for Marilyn Monroe. She was sweet, kind, and drunk; and I was beginning to feel like the only non-drinker there. No matter. I ran into Debbie, the mother of a gay youngster, Ian. She goes out a lot and is a prominent figure in our community. She gasped when she saw me, as many did that night. She loved how I looked, and it was just so wonderful to talk to her. She even said my voice was fitting for my persona, and I wasn't very surprised because my voice is a tad bit gay. It was getting late, and I was getting very tired, so I told Julio I was ready to leave around 1:30 a.m. As we were about to leave, I ran into my good friends, Chris and Carl. As we spoke, a great dance song came on, and I looked toward the stage, and suddenly Phoenix came out and started her performance. Jeremy handed me a $5, and said, "Tip her!" Here she was, the drag queen who made me beautiful, was breathtaking in all her glory. We pushed our way through the crowd to the front of the stage, and I tipped her.

At that moment, I was reminded to be grateful, because I didn't do this. I was surrounded by the most beautiful, loving people who were so willing to help me throughout this entire journey. If I were to thank everyone who helped me, the list would go on and on. So many new friends were made, including my fellow debutantes who I love, love, love! And even my ex-husband, Jeremy, and I became something better than ex's: we now have a great, new friendship! So many blessing have been packed into this one, short summer!

So, at the end of the night, I dropped off a tipsy Julio at his place on the park, and I went home, hoping no one would see me in half-drag, by then. My wig had come loose, and so I pulled it off. I went to bed cuddled up with Pumba & Simba, and tried to sleep with intense emotions swirling 'round in my head. "I did it. I can't believe I did it," I thought as I dosed off.

The Main Event Quickly Approaching

It's been a busy few weeks!! With the help of some exceptional friends and generous community members, we pulled off a successful Cotillion fundraiser at Cowtippers last Wednesday. I want to take a second to thank those who helped with the event, and those who contributed products or services:

Julio Leyva of Helmet

Mo Cowan of Joe's Trivia

Edward Robinson of Gravity Fitness

Cory Camp of Helmet

CJ of Helmet

Alfredo Olvera of Nordstrom

Louis Lindic Photography

Phillip Rafshoon of Outwrite

Jeffrey Blooms Events

and, of course, Steve Tyrell & his staff at Cowtippers

Having the first event has given me a renewed sense of determination and confidence. And with one event under our belts, my committee and I are anticipating a successful, fun, and rewarding fundraiser this Saturday at 7pm at Helmet in East Atlanta. We've brought together some prominent figures in Atlanta's gay community for a very fashionable party that will feature a cutting-edge runway show in which Boy Next Door and local designer extraordinaire, Jeromy Allen Wiborg, will feature their flashy threads.

Farewell, MJ

The passed two weeks have been eventful, to say the least! Let's go back to June 24th. It was a day off from my new job at Luxe (which is going quite well, by-the-way), and I was running around with Mo. We meet up on Wednesdays to discuss and plan Atlanta Cotillion events. So far, we have a trivia night at Cowtippers in the works, a beer bust at Joe's, a house party/fashion show at Herbert's, a comedy night at the Park Tavern featuring Jeffrey Blums, and a joint-debutante party at the Georgian Terrace. So, things are progressing, and I couldn't be doing this without the help of my committee: Mo, Julio, & Jay.

We've suffered several set-backs so far, most-recently when Mixx denied our request to host a party there. Their reasons were that they didn't want an outside DJ, they hated the idea for a drag show, the party couldn't be on a weekend, and a few other reasons. I quickly formed a resentment towards Mixx like a true alcoholic, however, I will let it go and focus on the other venues.

Thursday came, and I was excited to be doing a photo shoot with my good friend, Josh, who is also an amazing professional photographer. I disliked the headshot we did for the Cotillion, and I thought Josh & I could do better. We went to the park for a couple of hours and had a great time! The photos, by the way, came out great, and you can view them on Facebook.

I headed home to change for the gym, and my ex-husband and now good friend, Jeremy, called. I answered, and he immediately asked, "Did Michael Jackson die?"

I was like, "What??"

"Yeah, I think he really died."

I put on CNN and got onto Facebook, and after about an hour, it seemed quite certain that he was gone. I went to the gym, and was almost in tears as I worked out. For the rest of the evening, I received phone calls, text messages, and Facebook notifications from friends around the country asking me if I was okay. Friends I hadn't heard from in years were contacting me and telling me that they thought of me first, when they heard the news.

My younger friends were unphased and somewhat insensitive at times, but it was the people I had gone to school with who were sad and confused by his death. I was about six when Thriller was released, and my two brothers and I bought MJ jackets that looked like the one he wore in Beat It. We played that record over and over for a really long time. I was a huge fan. He was the greatest artist to me when I was a kid. When Dangerous came out, I studied the music and lyrics as if I were to be tested. It's still my favorite album. I watched the world premiers of Black or White and Remember the Time, and they were the greatest videos ever.

I was at Tower Records in Times Square at midnight for the release of HIStory, and I dressed up as Michael my senior year of high school for Halloween. It was so much fun because although people knew it wasn't really him, they screamed with delight anyway! I did it again in college, and I won third place for best costume!

I had forgotten that I admired him as much as I did, until the calls came in on that dark day. I was home in New York this passed weekend to visit my family, and some of my friends brought up the times I had dressed up as MJ.

Today was his memorial service in LA, and I got to watch a little of it at work, and it seemed most of the world was doing the same. It's a terrible loss to the whole world to have lost someone so talented and giving. He gave of himself more than almost anyone. His daughter, Paris, spoke at the end of the service as Janet stood by her side, and even without sound on my computer, I started to cry, because I imagined how awful it must be for the family.

I just want to say that I truly believe that he was a good human being, someone who was terribly misunderstood, and someone who paid a dear price for incredible fame and success. He was a talent we'll never see again, because there will only be one Michael Jackson.