"Warring Ideals in One Dark Body"

It's always a good time at The Haunted Townhouse, even when 2/5 are off to par-tay. I volunteered to co-babysit with imnotandrei , and we had cheesesteaks, lovely chatting about kink, and a nice time watching S-porn, Something Wicked This Way Comes, which I hadn't seen since I was in high school. It was better than I remembered it, actually.

That was all on the heels of some lovely time spent with ginoushka , even under arduous circumstances.

I love how the people closest to me all bring their particular comfort. Y'all have different flavors of balm. Some of you are back-slappers, some of you coo, some of you hold and cuddle and nuzzle. Some of you I will allow to rub my head. Some of you make tea and listen with kind eyes. And I'm grateful for the capacity for gratitude and you.

"I got so much trouble on my mind."

Woke up with Dad on my mind. He's been around lately, doors between worlds thin and all. He can't really answer me when I wake in Oakland fog and ask about violence or death or love or purpose, but I ask him anyway and try to move placidly through fear and sharp affections. I lit candles for him and the other Honored Dead, left candy bars, fruit, a little taste (vodka, but I'll have to get him a little Jack Daniels before the Day is over), and tried to create space for the sadness and honored losses. Where I'm from, we dance when people die; we almost always cry too.

We'd barely met when you were called, but maybe you'll help teach me how to be a better man anyway. You were born on the same day as I was, but we never knew till you died, records and memories being what they are for oppressed people in hard times. You've helped me through more than I thought I could stand--insanity, death, rape, injustice, and I know you too must be very tired. Please continue to guide me through the days ahead and extend whatever protection you can to me and those I love. Thanks for the T.S. Eliot book you left and the Sidney Bechet. Your loving daughter, your loving son, aquenigmatic

EDIT: I hit "Save" and a loud POP came from the altar. Uh huh.

Radical Midwife came by today with chai tea and porridge. She's in administrative hell right now, still needing to get immunization forms signed so she can do her externships. She congratulated me for taking some time to be sick. Then she said, "It must be bad...cause you went to work and school on a broken toe for six weeks."

I had forgotten that.

They've called me three times from work today. Oh no, not to see how I was doing but to ask me to do stuff. Yeah.

You know what I think? I think I need to pass my Nationals Registry Exam and see about getting a job here, working for six months or so, and then trying for a job here. And then I think I need to get the fuck out of dodge, even if I'll have to work full-time plus OT just to break even. I'm starting to think it may be worth taking some time off of school to do this (or maybe plodding along as I've been doing--there were plenty of flashcards happening between calls when I did my ride-along). I think that even if I'm getting barked at by a preceptors and patients, I'll feel like it's actually worth something.

The Advice Nurse asks me to give it more more day at home and make sure I don't develop a fever. Even without, they may want a swab for strep if the sore throat doesn't go away soon. Um, and weird--they asked if I wanted a sick note for work. What in the world is going on?

Need a vacation? Work until you get sick. Sick-ation. I'll bring back slides.

But really, I actually had a good week. See, I looked up and realized family (and some other folk) were banging their hearts on this mad bugger's wall. So thank you, pokershaman , wild_irises , pantryslut , black_pearl , and you too imnotandrei (cos I know you were in the background doing something, cos you always are) and ginoushka for calling and distracting me when the sore throat was at it's worst, and rednfiery for not leaving me in sf when I was dizzy, as well as my roommate (who was quite considerate, I must say), classmates (who were like, "Whassup? You need notes?") and Radical Midwife for your pasta, soup, melon, gumbo, tea, cookies, lozenges, chai, porridge, Happy Hippo biscuits, dish duty, cuddling, advice, patience, time, and just being kind to me.

Thank you for helping me to understand what it is to be cared about. Thanks for waiting around until I remembered.
I am not going to cry, dammit.

Family steps up when you're down.

Fine, maybe I will cry. Just a little.
There, now...more Diablo II and Rachel Maddow.

Last night:
Whenever I go to PPO, I want to runaway and write. Such talent, truly.  Meliza Banales and Juba Kamalka dropped my jaw, and the whole show was tight, tight, tight.

I like it when the people I adore shed their clothing in public and say all kinds of smart and funny things. And I like being in rooms with many friends and lovers and their friends and their lovers, more-or-less in an equilibrium with each other, even if I'm not personally in homeostasis. I like kissing and letting my eyes settle on the people I find pleasing and feelings of affection and being held securely. It's reassuring to not feel the need to be reassured.

I also like learning about what other people like and seeing what brings a glow to their eyes whether it's football or the gift of submission.


Sick and tired of sick and tired:
I've been struggling with illness and exhaustion, and I'm so used to it by now that it doesn't matter. That works right up until I fall over. I haven't yet, so fuck it.

Sort of.

I did cancel being a medical volunteer at Folsom, and I'm sad about that. I seem to have run out of reserve. Sounds like a spoon in an empty jar.

I am treating a raging yeast infection, complete with fists full of white, yeasty, squid-like things, bad enough that all I could do was point a fan at my nads and lay there for a couple of days and resist the urge to scratch and claw myself bloody. I have a lot of brain doodling around that. What the fuck do you mean, Ms. Advice Nurse that you've never heard of acidolphilus? What do you mean make an appointment because internal medicine won't see me for urgent care to be sure it's actually a yeast infection? Why isn't Diflucan available over the counter? Get sunshine on it how? Why don't you know if Walgreens cheap-ass Perfection [snort] tampons could be causing it? Cause I never have good luck with the cheap tampons--I'm not kidding. Target-brand too.

But in all fairness also, until someone can give me specific strengths and amounts of acidolphilus, boric acid, garlic, yogurt or whatever other "natural" remedies people like to recommend, I'm taking those particular interventions out of my jump bag because I've started thinking in terms like actions, contraindications, dosage. I need to know how much to use for how long and how to know when to stop or if I've used too much. I need a lab, in other words, and some clinical trials. Fuck the FDA. Also, Mr. Walgreens Security Guard, really, I just threw the damn University of Minnesota sweatshirt on to wobble over here at 5:30 in the mornin; I don't care if you're a Cal fan or really what your problem is that you're giving me the hairy eyeball, dammit, open the door and give me some Monistat that I'm overdrawing my bank account for. And by the way, health reform NOW, goddamit.


Bio-fam:
For those of you asking how my family in Atlanta are, the answer is everyone's fine; everyone's houses are fine. It just sucks to see places you've been and worked underwater. More places, I mean.


Break-ups:
Hurt.


Work:
Thanks to my job as a research assistant, I've learned to lie much better.

I struggle with dueling philosophies and seek a naked, dogged strength somewhere.

"Let your life be a counter friction to stop the machine. What I have to do is to see, at any rate, that I do not lend myself to the evil which I condemn."--Henry David Thoreau

"I know what good morals are, but you're supposed to disregard good morals when you're living in a crazy, bad world. If you're in hell, how can you live like an angel? You're surrounded by devils, trying to be an angel? That's like suicide."--Tupac Shakur


School/EMT:
I'm tired and broke and angry and feel like I've got a lot of fishhooks in my skin that pull tighter and tighter. Call the wah-mbulance.

That said, I just have to turn in some paperwork to be cleared to take my national exam to become a certified EMT.

It's a few hundred to test, for the background check, the piss test, to register in the county, to take the driver's test. I don't know when I'll be able to afford it. Shelling out testing/registration money for the thrilling possibilities of a $9/hr job where I'm putting myself in a good position to reinjure my back (on top of the $2500 for the course itself that I'm paying off)... yeah, I don't know. The upside is if I can scrape up enough money working two part-time jobs, I might be able to take a phlebotomy class in spring and maybe get on as an ER Technician for a little better money and better path.

Double-take: Did I just say the upside is maybe I can work two-part time jobs? >-(

Anatomy and Physiology II is fine. I took two tests, have a study partner who seems like a good queer ally as well as honestly going for it rather than settling for learning "enough to get by" like many of my classmates. I need to review the section on the inner ear and how it relates to balance (is that a little joke for me Universe? Oh, Universe, you're such a card.)

I surprised myself by having thoughts of giving up this whole fucking nursing idea. But I can't. Because I have these pictures in my head and these songs in my heart. Sometimes the songs are sirens, and sometimes the pictures are gravel, mosaic paths all leading me to here and now. I know what I have to do, I just don't know how to do it.

When I remember who I am and who and what I care about and where we are, it matters less how I am or even what I think about it. All I have to do, all I can do is put one foot in front of the other and keep showing up. Unspoken promises aren't any less valid.

"You have a greater calling.
Answering it is all it takes.
Take a second to hear this
and go back about your day.
Know that laws don't govern us,
we're governed by what we say.
What we think, why we think it, how we handle.
Place no blame, point no fingers, take your aim.

Shoot to kill. The bullshit."--Saul Williams, Pedagogue of Young Gods