I never have been a responsible person. I procrastinate on all my homework assignments, all my journalism stories, and if it were up to me to save the world in a daring one-minute countdown till destruction scenario, I’d procrastinate on that.

What it is about me and why I can’t care about something until moments before it all blows up in my face I’ve never been able to figure out. The fact that it is important and crucial registers in my mind, but I honestly can’t give two craps until I absolutely need to. It has always been this way and I have always gotten away with it – until this summer.

I just started on what would become a four month-long (and still counting) quest to document the lives and habits of the drag queens at the Casablanca nightclub in downtown Bakersfield.

When I first started to attend the shows I was completely blind to the cultural habits and formalities of drag queens. Yes, in essence, they are men in women’s clothes, but nothing in their attitude and personality suggest so. When in character, a queen is a woman and you treat her with all the respect and dignity that a woman deserves.

Candy Moore was the first show director I met. On Friday nights she puts on her shows, which always vary in theme. One night, a Madonna tribute show might be taking place, and, on another, you might find the girls commemorating the lives lost on 9/11. She is completely devoted to her craft and her love for it always shines through.

From the beginning, Candy has been nothing but a blessing to my quest and me. She has helped me with getting into the shows, granting me backstage access, and introducing me to other performers for the benefit of my story.

But, as I was to learn early on, Candy is not one to be disrespected or allow it.

After the first night, Candy informed me that the next time I came I would be granted with full access to the dressing room, allowed to photograph all that happens and talk to whomever I wish. I was hooked up needless to say and all that was required of me was to be there at 11 p.m.-I wasn’t.

When I finally show up that night, god awfully late, I knew I was in trouble. Candy shot me a look when I first came that could boil blood, and I knew that I had some explaining to do. In an effort to diffuse the situation I went to the bartender and ordered Candy’s favorite drink, which she accepted. At that point, I figured I’ve weaseled my way out of a bad situation.

The show ended and I found myself in the dressing room, chatting it up with the performers and acquiring essential material for my story. The time came to leave and I went to pay my respects to Candy and thank her, figuring my lack of professionalism had gone unnoticed-it didn’t.

Candy stands at about 6’2 in heels. There is no hint of masculinity or barbarism in her at all. She radiates with all the glamour, sophistication and divinity of any queen in history. Her character demands respect, and if you were ever to disrespect her without proper cause, then the act would not be ignored or tolerated. Candy is proud and carries herself well. The moment she started to scold me, I tried desperately to spit out some excuse, but knew that being late because I decided to chug some vodka down with my neighbor wasn’t good enough. Her eyes flared and that finger wagged in my face. All I could do was just sit there and take it. She schooled me on the importance of being professional, reliable, credible and all I could think of at the moment was that time in beginning journalism when the professor stressed the importance of those traits to the profession.

When she finished stressing her point, she told me that she was not without sympathy and agreed to give me a second chance, which I was very grateful for.

I left the Casablanca that night feeling low about myself but, as I began to think about it, I was glad that she called me on my bullcrap. It made me value the story more, and made me realize how my art form is valuable to people. Journalism, when done objectively, gives normal, everyday people the chance to explain themselves to a much broader audience. You don’t hear much about drag queens in popular media, or in Bakersfield, and here I was giving people on the fringes of society a chance to be heard. I fell in love with the story at that moment and it’s that which has kept me coming back.