Years in the Making: My Journey Through The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

It took me over three decades to finish reading The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux, and honestly, it feels like an accomplishment worth celebrating. For years, I struggled to disconnect my familiarity with Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical version—which you guys know I adore—from the original book. The characters, the songs and the drama of the stage production are so deeply ingrained that trying to dive into Leroux's story felt like stepping into unfamiliar, murky waters. But in 2024, after starting (and stopping) as far back as in 1992 when I was just 16, I finally turned the last page.

To say I was left conflicted would be an understatement. Is this a love story? A horror story? A mystery? After finishing, I’m still not entirely sure—and that ambiguity is part of what makes it so intriguing. Leroux’s novel doesn’t fit neatly into one genre, instead weaving elements of romance, gothic horror and suspense into an atmospheric tale that feels unlike anything else.

If you’re familiar with the Lloyd Webber musical, you’ll recognize many of the central characters and plot points: the mysterious Phantom (Erik), the young soprano Christine Daaé and the dashing Raoul. But Leroux’s Phantom is far more complex—and far darker—than the romanticized antihero of the musical. His obsession with Christine veers into sinister territory and the gothic horror elements of the novel amplify the sense of dread surrounding his actions.

One thing that struck me was how much more detail and backstory Leroux provides. The Opera House itself feels like a character—its hidden passages, underground lake and haunting presence create a vivid setting that’s rich with mystery. There’s a deeper exploration of the Phantom’s past and his genius as an architect and musician, which adds layers to his character while still leaving plenty of questions unanswered. While Lloyd Webber’s musical streamlines the story for dramatic effect, Leroux’s novel gives you the full picture, including the grittier, more unsettling aspects that don’t always make it to the stage.

At the same time, there are elements of Leroux’s novel that I couldn’t help wishing were incorporated into the musical. Certain details—like the exploration of Erik’s inventive traps and the intense rivalry between him and Raoul—could have added even more tension and complexity to the stage production. But I understand why they weren’t—it would’ve made an already elaborate musical even more complicated and long.

Reading the book also deepened my appreciation for the musical. While Leroux’s story is rooted in darker themes, Lloyd Webber’s adaptation captures the essence of the Phantom’s longing and Christine’s confusion in a way that feels timeless. It’s fascinating to see how the same story can evolve through different mediums, each with its own focus and interpretation.

Looking back, I’m glad I finally gave Leroux’s novel the chance it deserved. It challenged my preconceptions and left me grappling with its layers, which I’d say is the mark of a truly impactful read. Was it worth the decades-long wait? Absolutely. I have owned the Harper Collins mass market with the musical tie in cover for years, since I worked at Borders Books in the 1990's and held onto it for all these years because I hold onto anything related to The Phantom of the Opera because that's my thing.

Have you read The Phantom of the Opera or seen its musical adaptation? How do you feel about the differences between the two—and which version resonates more with you? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Let’s swap stories about our experiences with this gothic classic and dive into the mysteries of the Phantom together. And if this post gave you a new perspective or rekindled your love for Leroux’s tale, consider supporting the blog. Every contribution helps keep these reviews coming and fuels more literary deep dives. No pressure—your presence and insights mean the world to me. Here’s to stories that keep us wondering, dreaming, and maybe just a little haunted.

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From GLOW to "Under the Lifeguard's Watch": My Secret Project Revealed!

Hey There, Fellow Dreamers!

You know me, right? Saturdays are practically sacred—usually devoted to all things GLOW, The Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling. The ‘80s neon, the sheer spectacle, the crew, fans and the cast of women who defied expectations—it’s a world I could talk about endlessly. But today? Today, I need to break routine. Because something incredible has happened and I can’t hold back any longer.

If you've been following this blog, you know it’s my digital scrapbook—a place where I share stories, memories, passions and the occasional deep dive into pop culture rabbit holes. We’ve talked about family legends, movie obsessions, music that moves me and those random sparks of nostalgia that demand to be written down.

But what most of you may or may not know is that behind the scenes, I’ve always had one story waiting in the wings—the raw, unfiltered memoir of my life as a teenage runaway and hustler. For nearly 30 years, I thought that would be the book that marked my grand entrance as a solo author.

I was deep in the trenches of writing it, peeling back the layers of memory, capturing the truth of those years—the good, the bad and everything in between. But then, something unexpected happened.

Somewhere along the way, another story began whispering to me.

At first, I thought it was just a creative detour—something small, something fun. A short fantasy, inspired by a lifeguard I crushed on back in 1988 at Tiki Island Water Park. Just a few pages, intending nothing more. But the more I wrote, the stronger the pull became.

Casper and Soren weren’t asking me to tell my story. They were calling me into theirs.

And so began Under the Lifeguard’s Watch.

What started as a few pages turned into 13 chapters, then 23, then 29. The book took over. It demanded more, as if the characters themselves had decided that I was the one chosen to bring their story to the world.

My journals filled with ideas, my 1967 Smith Corona Galaxie Deluxe typewriter clacked away with urgency, and suddenly, this fantasy world felt as real to me as the streets I once walked.

Casper—a dreamer aching for more than the static in his head.
Soren—a dangerous enigma wrapped in sunlit skin and waves.

But this isn’t just my story—it’s for everyone who has ever wanted to be the authentic vision of themself, no matter the odds.

If you’ve ever fought to carve out space for yourself in a world that didn’t always make room for you, if you’ve ever wanted to live boldly and love freely—then this book is for you. Under the Lifeguard’s Watch is a love letter to every, not just LGBTQ+, person who has faced adversity and dared to dream anyway.

Their world, Crestlake Springs, feels like a place I’ve been to before. Like a memory I’ve stepped into instead of a fictional creation.

Now, after months of obsessing over plot twists, grounding the story in the heartbeat of 1988, and ensuring every character has a place in this world, the book is real. It’s here. I’m deep in revisions, fine-tuning their town, their lives, their fate.

The memoir I once thought would be my defining story is still waiting in the wings. But for now, Under the Lifeguard’s Watch has claimed me and I have no choice but to see it through.

There’s still work to do—adjusting timelines, refining details, maybe even adding visual elements—but I’m committed. And if self-publishing means I have to fund it all myself? So be it. The alliance chose me for a reason and I intend to honor that.

So, what do you think? Do you want to step into Under the Lifeguard’s Watch? Have you ever felt a story take hold of you so deeply that you couldn’t let it go? Let’s talk in the comments—I’d love to hear your thoughts.

And hey, if you feel like fueling this final stretch with a little caffeine or a shiny new notebook for the next adventure, know that it’s always appreciated. But more than anything, thank you. For listening. For being part of this evolving journey.

Until next time—keep dreaming big.

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Falling for Heroics: A Personal Dive into The Extraordinaries by TJ Klune

I’m no stranger to TJ Klune’s work—I’ve fallen in love with his storytelling time and time again with In the Lives of Puppets and Under the Whispering Door. So when I picked up The Extraordinaries, I thought I knew what I was in for: heartfelt writing, a dash of humor and characters I’d never want to let go of. But nothing quite prepared me for how hooked I would be on this incredibly charming and fresh take on the gay teen superhero story. My inner superhero and my love for Wonder Woman throughout my life really made this special for me.

For those unfamiliar, The Extraordinaries introduces us to Nick Bell, a sixteen-year-old with a love for superheroes—particularly Shadow Star, the vigilante protecting his city. Nick’s also dealing with ADHD, an unfiltered internal monologue that often spills out into hilarious real-life situations and a passionate desire to make his dreams of superhero-dom a reality. Oh, and did I mention he writes fanfiction? Because he does—and it’s both a beautiful and cringeworthy hallmark of who Nick is. Like seriously he sounds like me but instead of writing fan fiction, I tried my hand at acting and singing and other ventures.

What Klune captures so brilliantly is the chaos and joy of being a teenager. I think we’ve all had those moments where we wanted to be part of something bigger, to prove ourselves to the world. Nick’s journey embodies that, complete with an awkward charm that had me laughing and rooting for him from the first page to the last.

Nick’s relationships are the heart of this story. His dad, a police officer and single parent, is a rock in Nick’s life, navigating the challenges of parenting a hyperactive and imaginative teen with love and humor. And then there’s Seth, Nick’s best friend—sweet, dependable and, well, clearly in love with him. Watching Nick bumble his way through completely missing the signs was simultaneously endearing and exasperating (in the best way possible).

Of course, there’s no superhero story without action and Klune delivers here too. Between Nick’s attempt to become a superhero himself—despite having no powers—and his efforts to get closer to Shadow Star, the story keeps you on your toes. There’s danger, mystery and enough twists to keep you guessing. But what makes it special is that it never loses its sense of humor and heart.

As much as I adored the action-packed moments, I kept coming back to the quieter, more reflective parts of the story. Klune weaves in themes of identity, self-worth and community with such care that they never feel heavy-handed. Nick’s story is laugh-out-loud funny, but it’s also deeply emotional—a reminder that being extraordinary doesn’t mean being perfect. It means being yourself.

By the time I reached the end of the first book, I was fully invested—not just in Nick’s story, but in the world Klune created. I won’t spoil anything, but let’s just say it’s the kind of ending that leaves you scrambling for the next book in the series (don’t worry, I’ll cover those in future posts).

TJ Klune has a knack for creating characters who are outcasts but yet feel like friends and stories that leave you better for having read them. The Extraordinaries is no exception. Whether you’re here for the superheroes, the heartwarming friendships or the laugh-out-loud moments, this book has it all. It’s the kind of story that makes you want to hug it to your chest after reading and then immediately start recommending it to everyone you know.

Have you read The Extraordinaries? Or maybe you have your own favorite TJ Klune book that you just can’t stop thinking about? Share your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear from you! Let’s geek out over queer superheroes, beautifully awkward teenage moments and the stories that make us feel seen. And hey, if this story brought a little joy to your day, consider supporting the blog. Every bit helps keep the passion alive and the stories flowing (and maybe fuels my next deep dive into Klune’s universe). No pressure—your presence here means the world to me. Here’s to celebrating extraordinary stories, one book at a time. 🌈✨

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Saturday GLOWcase: The Glow of Friendship: Vanessa Bello's Journey with GLOW

In February 2017, the vibrant city of New Orleans was the starting point of a remarkable adventure—a cruise with the ladies of GLOW. It was on this neon-lit journey that I first met Vanessa Bello. Amid the excitement and celebration of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling (GLOW), our shared passion for the 1980's wrestling show ignited a friendship that would endure the years. From that initial encounter, our bond grew stronger, culminating in another exhilarating cruise in March 2024 from Miami, where we, along with stars of GLOW and fellow fans, created memories that will last a lifetime. GLOW isn’t just a show to us; it’s a community, a connection, a shared passion.

Vanessa (in white) at dinner with Tina Ferarri, MTV & Lightning

Vanessa grew up on the quiet side of a very churchy town in central Massachusetts. Her street wound its way between two busy highways—one leading to Sterling, the home of "Mary Had A Little Lamb," and the other to Clinton, a once-thriving industrial city now more known for its abundance of bars. Her childhood home was an old, mossy green, single-level house nestled amidst rolling, thickly forested hills, next to a decaying red dairy barn. The barn, owned by neighbors living in a house built in 1776, had seen better decades but was still operational. Vanessa's house, constructed in 1830, was originally a sheep farmer's residence, complete with a large, spacious barn.

A young Vanessa, on the right, with her sister and dad

In this serene neighborhood, traffic was rare, and life was peaceful. Vanessa's parents were very conservative and deeply devoted to the Catholic Church at the center of town. They sang in the choir, and her father often read the gospel from the pulpit on Sundays. Television, with its perceived smut and violence, was frowned upon in their household.

Young Vanessa watching the TV she discovered GLOW on

Despite this, Vanessa found fascination in the world of wrestling. Rare were the times she could see women actually wrestle on their old TV with its rabbit ear antenna. Wrestling became a rare treat, a luxury she savored whenever she could. The arrival of cable television in 1989, after a neighborhood lawsuit, opened up new possibilities, but women's wrestling remained a rare gem. Her exposure was limited to wrestling magazines at grocery stores, where she eagerly flipped through pages to catch glimpses of her favorite wrestlers.

Vanessa in 2009, a time she struggled with her identity

As Vanessa grew older, she grappled with her identity. Her fascination with women's clothing and femininity clashed with her parents' conservative beliefs. Dressing up in glamorous dresses and frilly gowns as a child was initially seen as cute but quickly became unacceptable. Vanessa learned to hide her true self, living a lie and harboring resentment towards her situation. The Sears and JCPenney catalogs that arrived in the mail became both a source of excitement and depression, as she dreamt of a future where she could wear those outfits openly.

Vanessa with Melody Trouble Vixen MTV & Roxy Astor

Amidst these personal struggles, the debut of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling (GLOW) offered Vanessa a ray of hope. The all-women wrestling program became a symbol of empowerment and a connection to a community that celebrated strong, fierce women. GLOW represented more than just entertainment; it was a lifeline for Vanessa, offering a sense of belonging and identity.

When asked what does G.L.O.W. mean to her, Vanessa's answer: Everything!

For Vanessa, GLOW is not just a wrestling show—it's a testament to resilience and self-discovery. It represents a world where she can embrace her true self, free from judgment and societal constraints. Through the highs and lows of her journey, GLOW has been a constant source of inspiration, reminding her that she is not alone. The friendships forged on those cruises, including ours, are a testament to the power of community and the indomitable spirit of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling.

Tina Ferarri, Vanessa, Sunny, me, Ashley Cartier & Natalia in Cozumel

As we celebrate these incredible memories, I invite you to share your own stories and experiences of G.L.O.W. Whether you met any of the wrestlers in person, watched their mesmerizing performances, or were inspired by their strength and charisma, I would love to hear from you. Feel free to leave comments and share your memories of GLOW. Let's honor these incredible women, crew and fans together! If you feel inspired to support our efforts in keeping the spirit of G.L.O.W. alive, your contributions in any form are greatly appreciated. Every little bit helps me continue sharing these stories and celebrating the legacy of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling. Thank you for being a part of this wonderful community!

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From Tarot to Keen: A Tale of Tarot, Telephones and Inspiration

When I was a kid, I discovered that I had certain abilities that I didn’t realize were not shared by everyone. I could see glimpses of people’s personal lives—past, present, and future—without much interaction, a form of ESP (extrasensory perception).

At 16, I “borrowed” a deck of tarot cards and a book from B. Dalton in Lenox Mall and began to learn the art of tarot reading. While the book provided a good foundation for understanding each card, the cards themselves were just a visual aid for what was already going through my head. When I finally gathered the courage to give people actual readings, I found that the book's structure was a helpful guide, but my visions were often the main basis for what I was trying to convey.

In the mid-1990s, I worked with a couple of psychic telephone lines—not Miss Cleo, but similar services. During times when I was out of work, I used my “talent” to make a little income, giving readings on the weekends in the Little 5 Points area of Atlanta. I enjoyed reading for strangers because I didn’t want my biased thoughts to interfere with readings for family or friends.

During the 2000s, I attempted to join California Psychics as an operator, but they didn’t pay very well. My friend Jodi and I discovered the psychic line called Keen, which allowed independent mediums, astrologers, and readers to set up their own accounts, set their own prices, and work whenever they wanted. I also started doing readings on YouTube to improve my people skills. At the time, I didn’t even know it was possible to make money through YouTube.

The callers from Keen were interesting, to say the least. Many were calling from foreign countries and viewed psychics as one of three things: life coaches, therapists, or virtual surveillance agents for people they wanted to spy on. To be honest, I have no business coaching someone on life skills, I need my own therapy, and if I could spy on people through psychic visions, I’d have one heck of a blog already.

I made great money through Keen, sometimes signing on just a couple of days a week to pay my bills. However, something began to wear on me—the number of people calling who were desperate for a fairy tale. I always knew what they were fishing for when they asked questions like “When will I meet...?” or “When will this happen to me?” They weren’t interested in what the cards truly said; they wanted a storybook ending. Eventually, I stopped using my cards. When the phone rang, I’d say “Once upon a time” before picking up, because it was story time for that person, no matter what I was actually seeing. I hated lying to them, but I realized they needed hope, even if they claimed they wanted the truth.

Over the years, I’ve thought about returning to YouTube for readings or even offering written readings on this blog because I enjoy sharing my knowledge and helping others. In the current state of the world, we need hope more than ever.

Thank you for taking the time to read about my journey. I would love to hear your thoughts and experiences—have you ever had a psychic reading? Do you believe in extrasensory perception? Share your opinions in the comments below!

If you enjoyed this entry and would like to support my work, feel free to contribute. Your support helps keep the content coming and allows me to continue sharing my knowledge and insights with you. Stay connected by following me for more stories and updates. Until next time, take care and keep the hope alive.

A random chapter from my Book: October 1992 Navigating High School Drama in Pace 2.0

An AI rendering of one of my outfits though my hair was different.

I thought I would share a chapter from the original draft of my book. I hope you enjoy a peek into the story of my life 32 years ago which has progressively been written and rewritten over the years. This chapter is drawn from my favorite version of my book.

OCTOBER 1992

The month of October was pretty much a blur. I remember being excited to be back in Pace, but in hindsight, my excitement was clouded but I needed to heal from my encounter with Richard Rogers and I knew I needed to conceal my wound so no one would freak out. When I arrived at the Pensacola airport after a flight from La Guardia with a layover in Nashville, I was thrilled to see my mom, sister, and dad, even though my dad had only driven over from Mobile to stay a few minutes, just to make sure I got home safe. It was hot and my mock turtleneck t-shirt was causing me to sweat. One would have expected we go to a restaurant to catch up as a family but once we all said our hellos, I was in my mom's car on the way to her house.

Mama hadn't made any haste in getting my 11th-grade enrollment sorted out, despite me already missing over a month of school. I arrived in Pace on a Monday, and by the next Monday, with just the clothes I brought with me, a bunch of mock turtleneck shirts from the Gap, my friend Todd's blazer I wore when I met Tom a few nights before, Hugo Boss and Gap jeans and my black Nike Airs, I looked totally out of place, especially with my long hair that I pulled back from the sides into a tight ponytail, she dropped me off at Pace High School. Spending a week in mama's little cottage-style apartment, sleeping on her couch, wasn't at all a vacation or a good space to heal. By midweek, I was already bored. I looked forward to being the out-of-the-closet GBF to every girl in school and hoped to reconnect with some old tricks and friends, especially TK.

I was given a locker, but before I could get my class schedule, I had to meet a guidance counselor, one of the deans, the resource officer, and the principal, all at different times. In hindsight, I realize this was a scare tactic to make me leave. The dean, Miss Holland, basically told me to cut my hair, blend in, and butch it up. Ironically, she was more butch than most of the men on staff. The resource officer, Mike something, seemed more interested in a situation from the year before involving my best friend Charlie and a missing walkie-talkie than in helping me get back in the groove. I knew where the walkie was but snitches get stitches. The guidance counselor wasn't even my grade's counselor but knew me from previous years and was known for handling "problems" like pregnancies and drug addiction, often suggesting students quit Pace and get a GED over at Vo-Tech. It all seemed a set up but low key to what was to come.

Finally, I met with the principal, Frank Lay, who was known for his religious sermons disguised as motivational talks. While he spoke at me (not to me), I was more focused on the long nose hair that blended into his mustache. His talk was a recap of what I'd already heard but with less tact. He stuttered over the words "ho-ho-homo-homosexual behavior will not be tolerated," while I couldn't help but think about his own daughter who seemed like she may be batting for the same team in spite of her carrying around a huge designer purse.

By the end of the morning, I had my class schedule and realized I was back with some of the same teachers who tormented me during my previous years, including Coach Kent Smith. They also put me in Mrs. Parker's Chorus class, which I knew would be miserable since I hadn't been into choir since 5th grade. I was not an ensemble singer and I expected solos and maybe an orchestra to make this work. I spent most of the day bouncing around, showing up in random classes and avoiding Kent Smith's class by hiding in the restroom and also trying to clean up a bit of the fluid oozing from my neck so it didn't get on or show through my shirt.

I completely disregarded the administration's warnings about my behavior and what I couldn't talk about. When Matt Gaff tried to mock me in one of the few classes I did attend, insinuating I lied about my summer, I blurted out details of my adventures in Atlanta and NYC. I ended up being sent to cool down, in the office for attempting to stand up for myself but what the teacher pegged me with was the fact I was speaking of inappropriate and offensive subjects. It was my truth, I was not ashamed and I survived doing what I did. After getting stabbed by a random weirdo, a tongue lashing from low level high school coaches turned dean and principal seemed pointless to me. I didn't go to the office, I just walked out the door that was closest to the path leading to my mom's house and went home instead, stopping off at the corner store to buy a pack of cigarettes and a Mountain Dew then smoked all the way home. Over the course of the month, I attended school a total of three days, refusing to ride the bus I walked a mile and a half and clashed with everyone in the chorus class because they were either singing too loud, not at all or attempting to sing with fake vibrato. I also hated the music we were singing. I think Mrs. Parker was kind of happy that I didn't stick around because I was in total "diva" mode.

During the month, the only activity my family did to get me out of the house was attend the Pensacola Interstate Fair. After spending the previous months going to Six Flags Over Georgia, Six Flags Great Adventure, and Coney Island, a fair seemed like lowbrow entertainment but it was the first year the new carnival company, Reithoffer Shows, played the fair after the old carnival I grew up seeing at the fair lost their contract. My sister, brother-in-law, mom, dad and I had a blast but the moment we left the fair, we were all split up again and I was laying on my mom's couch, missing my life in New York. I wondered what the other hustlers, bartenders, tricks and my friends were up to and if anyone noticed I was gone.

Halloween made me realize it was time to leave. I missed the hustle and bustle of NYC, Broadway, my freedom, the money and the ability to easily score cocaine. My injury had healed enough to be mostly unnoticeable and my excitement about being back in Pace had faded so there was no sense in sticking around where I felt unwelcome. To the other kids in school, I was still the weird kid that no one took seriously, a freak. On Tuesday, November 3, 1992, the resource officer came to take me to school but I was not having it, he had no grounds to arrest me and his bully tactics were irrelevant. My bag was packed and I had already called a cab. With my return ticket in hand, I walked out of my mom's house and headed to the cab. I was prepared the night before and spent a half hour on the payphone in front of the Piggly Wiggly convincing American Airlines to reinstate my return ticket after using a sob story. With my mom's ATM card in hand, without her knowledge, I was on my way, back to New York City, rested, stronger and more determined to succeed on my own.