Death day

Today is the designated "death day" for me. It's a day of transitions, one where people, pets, and things come to an end.

Today was no different than previous years.

Today I became unemployed. Death of my career for the past 15 years, baby!!

Now, I'm off to cocktails with those I care about. Ciao!

Smarts Vs. Action

Knowing the right thing to do is not the same as doing it.

That's today's theme. I read it in an interesting book about black men playing around with other men. It's a topic I've broached in the past in my discussions of my dating rituals, and a topic that I've been interested in even before actively dating an African American male.

Seems some time ago, there were a series of studies done in Boston to try and discover exactly why young men were becoming infected with HIV despite the best efforts to counter the spread of disease. It became known as the young men's study popularly because it dealt with that demographic exclusively.

I remember an animated discussion at an epidemiology workshop that I attended at UCSF some time ago They presented the YM study, and it's findings. Several people in the audience, including the fellow I was sitting next to (who happened to be Antony Fauci--Google him, it's fun!) suggested that some enterprising soul ought to sponsor an adjunct study called the Old Men study to approach the demographic that I belonged to.

One of the interesting things that the YM study unearthed is that 99% of polled men knew precisely what transmitted HIV. Impressive to be sure, but the folk shouldn't rest on their laurels quite yet. Another function of this study was to draw blood to detect incidence of HIV and syphilis. Another question in the study was "What is your (HIV) status?" Taking into consideration that the researchers were later able to compare the number of positive people with their responses, the result is startling. 71% of those who tested positive for HIV admitted that they were negative or did not know their status. That's right, children, 29% actually knew the truth.

Sooooo it's not enough to know what the right thing is, you actually have to do it! True words!!

I'm offering the above merely as a suggestion to demonstrate my theory. The same maxim is true for things in relationships. For instance, you don't need to simply acknowledge that monogamy is necessary in a serious relationship, you actually have to keep your dick in your pants. In the field of employment, you must do more than make promises to your employees to placate them, you actually have to follow through on them.

This brings us back to Bob...and after all isn't it all about me? You don't like it, get your own fucking blog! I had a moment at work the other day when everything came to a boil. I got tired of being micro-managed. I got tired of my boss running around asking about me instead of confronting me and actually managing me. Most of all, I just got tired of not having much to do to occupy my day. It's all well and good being paid to sit on one's thumbs, but I would rather have something more substantial to occupy my time.

Long story short, I quit. Now, I'm on my final 10 work days and welcoming my going away party Shortly thereafter, I enter the wild and wooly world of flying. Uh huh..we're going to be a 2 f/a household, keeping the exit rows clear of obstruction.

Can I keep the 'perma-smile' and offer to take airsick bags with poise and grace? Uhhhhhh yeah. It's what I do right now, or at least used to do. Besides, according to the Social Security Administration, I have 25 more years of useful work left, and it's high time I did something fun like traveling to exotic places like Syracuse.

I'll say it one more time, because it's so important. Knowing the right thing to do isn't enough. You must also do it.

Torch Song Trilogy

I'm thinking about the fabulous stage play and later on movie penned by Harvey Feierstein today for several reasons.

First, because it was a favourite film shared by Derrick and I (don't know him? He features widely at the end of Realm 1) and second because there are so many amazing quotes in the movie.

TST is like comfort food for me. It's solid, dependable, and amusing--perfect for moments when you feel less than optimal. At present, I'm in one of those moods. I feel unwell thanks to having about 3 hours of sleep last night, and also I'm having some career stressors. I've been thinking about a change in jobs for some time now, and I think the opportunity for changing may be in the immediate offing. I'm also grumpy about something in my personal life, which I'll not discuss now for various reasons. Let's just say that I'm horribly embarrassed about something recently observed.

Today has also been a day of walking out. I walked off my job because of fatigue, and I walked out of my apartment because I was grumpy and didn't want to subject others to my attitude until a moment could pass to allow 'tincture of time' to take effect.

For that reason, and a couple others, I'll quote:
"What am I worried about--with a voice and a face like this I can always drive a cab."

I hate money sometimes, and that's part of what's giving me angst. The uncertainty of career changes also has the uncertainty of having a steady pay check. I hate that. I also hate things over which I have no control, because try as I may, I tend to be a control freak, and like to "Wish I was on sure footing before the romance ends."

I need a fucking Prozac and 2 weeks. I'll return to "happy bob soon." fear not, children.

"How Alice Faye is this?"

Da Katrina Blues

Ugh--who would have thought that the tragedy that has berift New Orleans could have happened in America? In the way that it does, the media has skewed the image of a proud city so that the average viewer of the 11 o'clock news would have to believe that the only people in the Big Easy are black, poor, and filthy.

Granted, the demographic of NOLA is decidedly of African heritage--the statistic I heard was 60%. That creates a majority, but the thing that has been missing from television coverage is caucasian faces. Of course, there are the faces of Stone Phillips et.al. but I mean beyond the face of a anchorman in Metarie using a collapsed Citgo station as a backdrop.

Naturally, I can explain why the faces we have seemed uniformly dark--it's the classic seperationist statement that we as a nation have suffered under all along. White people have advantage. They have cars and don't depend wholly on public transportation. They own insurance policies because they have the ability to pay State Farm and buy milk for the baby. they are a group who live in the Garden District in an antebellum home, switching on a computer and actually looked at a tremendous storm tracking directly upon them.

In short, the white folk packed up the Suburban and got the hell out of town.

In her blog, Margaret Cho calls it racism, but I disagree. I believe the fact is the people that were left behind, the people that had to remain were the lowest, most poverty stricken and unfortunate demographic in that city. "Forgotten men," if you will. As a matter of coincidence, they are nearly all black. People who are looting are people who never have had much. At the outset, they were ravaging department stores and lifting luxury items from Canal Street boutiques, which is just wrong under any circumstance. Now they are looting Piggly Wiggly for necessities. It's probably morally wrong, but I can live with it. My point is if an expected evacuation of ANY major city occurred, the exact same thing would happen. People with the ability to leave would, leaving Ezra Pound's 'huddled masses yearning to breathe free...wretched refuse of your teeming shores' behind as fodder for the CBS evening news.

Turn the tables and drop a catastrophe wholly unexpected--earthquake or terrorist attack for instance. The vision that you would see on your television screen would be so different. As the song says, "Everybody bleeds," and that would be evident. Campbell Brown would be speaking with people of all different ethnicities and experiences. She would stand not only at the NOLA convention center seeing a slumped dead man in a wheelchair clutching a note for his next of kin, but also in front of one of those amazing mansions with a Charles Street streetcar sticking out of a bay window and perhaps a really scratched up 7 series and a handful of Polaroids for the adjuster who is pulling up in his Explorer.

But that's obviously not the case. I'll give W snaps for his chat on his way south this morning. Obviously, he looked at the evening news last night (as I did) and saw an environment that was not fit for dogs. Perhaps it was a visual of unfortunate souls in shock, obviously dehydrated and about to become horribly ill. Maybe he heard Harry Connick Jr. from Baton Rouge saying "I don't understand--we drove right up to the convention center, no police blocks, and no problem." Could it have been a field reporter describing people that wanted to nation to see their desperate situation so that aid would come, describing a peaceful yet frustrated attitude. W said "It's unacceptable" and strutted off to Marine One with his secretary of Homeland Security. One can only hope that he will use his now infamous 'kick ass and take names' bravado to get some assistance down there.

Had I known that I wouldn't be a hinderance, I would take time off and drive down south to assist in whatever way I could. I was so affected by what I have seen over the last couple days and the apparent apathy that we as a nation have displayed. It really pisses me off because things like that aren't supposed to happen here.

and rightfully, they shouldn't.