I've been getting all the biking I can, while the weather permits. It's been very chilly, but there's something nice about the lack of people I deal with while riding a bike. Not to mention the sweating. The sweating just feels refreshing.
I've been actively applying to jobs daily, which is both annoying and productive. I'm just trying to make my time useful while this trial continues. Hopefully by the end of this week it will end, we are going onto week three.
I went to the Equality March in Washington D.C. I really enjoyed being with my friends and marching to make a point. My favorite speakers were Angela Green and Charles King who spoke on HIV and AIDS. What upset me though was that all the people left after Lady Gaga spoke, and though I liked her little speech, it was nowhere as powerful as the other speakers.
King and Green both talked about the war on HIV and AIDS. How it's not dead and the infection rates will continue increasing if nothing is done. I've decided I am going to write them an email telling them how much their speech affected me, and how I want to partake in this fight. King said at the end of the speech that he was declaring today that AIDS is our fight. I want to help in that fight. We shall see where this brings me. For the first time in months I felt something that made me excited.
This Halloween I am going to be a version of Little Red Riding Hood. This idea came to me because the construction worker affectionately calls me Little Red and I call him the Wolf. He just looks like one, but in the sexist of ways. Unfortunately, all my friends will be in California, so I need to find a place to show off my costume.
Showing posts with label HIV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HIV. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 13
Wednesday, May 13
Patterns — A Story of Loneliness
I've had three rather successful dates with this Film Professor. Tonight we saw a badly acted, but lesser known Tennessee Williams play: Vieux Carré. I really enjoyed the writing and he went some interesting places with it. It was his last Broadway play, and I wish I could see it with talent behind it.
As per my usual. The Film Professor is scared of my affliction. It makes them nervous, it always does and always will. No matter how many times I go through this, I still get upset. There's also his age vs. mine that seems to bother him. He is a good 20 years older than me. So I suppose I see that too. Then there is also the space, as he lives in Boston normally and is spending the rest of the summer in L.A.
A chance meeting in a bar a week ago. That concluded seven days later. It was a pleasant affair and it will be hard to let go of something that has clicked so easily. He can discuss theater and movies so easily. We speak so well to each other and the attraction is there.
All I hear in my mind is these words I once heard from a stranger in the night. "Someday you will want a normal life. Quit your ways before it's to late." I heard that such a long time ago and I can't help but feeling it's a curse. Like a warning uttered by a gypsy. He was telling me the truth, and I was to late. I was to late.
As per my usual. The Film Professor is scared of my affliction. It makes them nervous, it always does and always will. No matter how many times I go through this, I still get upset. There's also his age vs. mine that seems to bother him. He is a good 20 years older than me. So I suppose I see that too. Then there is also the space, as he lives in Boston normally and is spending the rest of the summer in L.A.
A chance meeting in a bar a week ago. That concluded seven days later. It was a pleasant affair and it will be hard to let go of something that has clicked so easily. He can discuss theater and movies so easily. We speak so well to each other and the attraction is there.
All I hear in my mind is these words I once heard from a stranger in the night. "Someday you will want a normal life. Quit your ways before it's to late." I heard that such a long time ago and I can't help but feeling it's a curse. Like a warning uttered by a gypsy. He was telling me the truth, and I was to late. I was to late.
That's the part that hurts to most and makes me cry.
Thursday, April 9
Eh, well. . .
My roommate seems to be projecting her negative feelings this way. Not wise Miss, not wise. That's all I'm gonna say.
I'm doing laundry tonight. I have an early appointment and I intend to stay home and be complacent with it. Are you happy with that? Good. Good.
In other news I am seeing Next To Normal tomorrow. On Broadway! I did not see this move happening and I fear that if it does not get glowing reviews it will close rather quickly! I hope it has a healthy run. The lyrics are a little kooky, but I don't look at this show as the correct way to deal with mental illness. I just see it as a melodrama of ideas and themes.
The score is interesting to the ear. And has a very contemporary feel. I applaud Tom Kitt for creating it and the rock sound.
The other reason I'm seeing this a third time, is I saw Next To Normal for the first time over a year ago. It was before my diagnosis. The second was the impending days before my diagnosis. When it all happened, I could never relate to anything more closely than this show. Diane is going through these upsets that I related to. This feeling of loss and forgetting where your life is going. It really hits close to home on several levels. Not to mention Alice owns this role to no end! Tony award, please!
So tomorrow will be the third time I see this show. I have listened to the revised score and enjoy the changes, though I'm upset they cut out her Rock 'N' Roll electric shock therapy hallucination number Feeling Electric. I guess they thought it was to much? I'm just glad I have had a chance to see this show change.
Now I want to do something very foolish, but I feel it must be done. Every time I listen to the soundtrack, I remember how it's an Anti-Musical because it's so dark. Yet, I applaud them for doing just that. Whenever Alice Ripley opens her mouth I get chills. She has proved a great strength for me in this last year, through her voice. I want to tell her that.
I'm gonna wait at the stage door and do it. I must do it.
Today I spent with The Vespa-Rider in Fort Greene Park. It's a pretty place, we spoke seriously. He doesn't want to date me and I understand this. So I'll just be his friend. End of story. Done. Finished.
I'm doing laundry tonight. I have an early appointment and I intend to stay home and be complacent with it. Are you happy with that? Good. Good.
In other news I am seeing Next To Normal tomorrow. On Broadway! I did not see this move happening and I fear that if it does not get glowing reviews it will close rather quickly! I hope it has a healthy run. The lyrics are a little kooky, but I don't look at this show as the correct way to deal with mental illness. I just see it as a melodrama of ideas and themes.
The score is interesting to the ear. And has a very contemporary feel. I applaud Tom Kitt for creating it and the rock sound.
The other reason I'm seeing this a third time, is I saw Next To Normal for the first time over a year ago. It was before my diagnosis. The second was the impending days before my diagnosis. When it all happened, I could never relate to anything more closely than this show. Diane is going through these upsets that I related to. This feeling of loss and forgetting where your life is going. It really hits close to home on several levels. Not to mention Alice owns this role to no end! Tony award, please!
So tomorrow will be the third time I see this show. I have listened to the revised score and enjoy the changes, though I'm upset they cut out her Rock 'N' Roll electric shock therapy hallucination number Feeling Electric. I guess they thought it was to much? I'm just glad I have had a chance to see this show change.
Now I want to do something very foolish, but I feel it must be done. Every time I listen to the soundtrack, I remember how it's an Anti-Musical because it's so dark. Yet, I applaud them for doing just that. Whenever Alice Ripley opens her mouth I get chills. She has proved a great strength for me in this last year, through her voice. I want to tell her that.
I'm gonna wait at the stage door and do it. I must do it.
Today I spent with The Vespa-Rider in Fort Greene Park. It's a pretty place, we spoke seriously. He doesn't want to date me and I understand this. So I'll just be his friend. End of story. Done. Finished.
Wednesday, March 11
Group Catharsis
I went to group on Monday with no intentions of sharing. I wanted to just listen and be "unemotional" for one session. I enjoy the support group, but I don't know if I'll sign up again for another session. I have a problem with being open and just saying things.
I am to self-conscious to just say, "I thought about killing myself this week." As someone did tonight and in saying that I almost burst into tears. I had to hold on as I watched two guys in group cry and ponder what their futures will hold. The younger side of the group that is my age, we all related to him. We all have thoughts about killing ourselves. We all shared that. The older side of the group sat and listened, almost indifferently at times.
To be HIV positive and young, it destroys your outlook on the future. Where you once saw endless possibilities, you now only see fuzzy goals. Promises made to yourself are broken and choices that seemed obvious are not anywhere near as logical.
I watched as this guy talked about how he didn't feel motivated and that he wasn't the same anymore. He hated this body he now lived in. I felt an endless agreement and it terrified me. However, there was a calmness that came from it too. Once again I was no longer the only one who felt this. I was not crazy and these thoughts and emotions could be shared with others. In a perverted way, I felt calmed by this discovery.
Then the next kid began to discuss how his mother always ends their telephone conversations with, "Be healthy." This destroyed him because he believes that he has failed this simple request. He too began to weep. I sat there blinking my tears and not calling attention to them. The pathos I got from their confessions was enough for me to know that, I too, have these issues.
It was such an intense group for having not admitted anything directly. I felt exhausted and wanted to do nothing but go home. Unfortunately, I got talked into getting dinner with a couple of the older guys from group.
Perhaps it is cause they are both "emotionless" in general. Or that they couldn't relate, but at dinner they both agreed that they were so bored with group tonight. I know that we all have different ways of coping, but that shocked me. I was not necessarily upset with them, but the fact there was not empathy for the two guy's sadness. This confession exhausted my soul even more.
I am to self-conscious to just say, "I thought about killing myself this week." As someone did tonight and in saying that I almost burst into tears. I had to hold on as I watched two guys in group cry and ponder what their futures will hold. The younger side of the group that is my age, we all related to him. We all have thoughts about killing ourselves. We all shared that. The older side of the group sat and listened, almost indifferently at times.
To be HIV positive and young, it destroys your outlook on the future. Where you once saw endless possibilities, you now only see fuzzy goals. Promises made to yourself are broken and choices that seemed obvious are not anywhere near as logical.
I watched as this guy talked about how he didn't feel motivated and that he wasn't the same anymore. He hated this body he now lived in. I felt an endless agreement and it terrified me. However, there was a calmness that came from it too. Once again I was no longer the only one who felt this. I was not crazy and these thoughts and emotions could be shared with others. In a perverted way, I felt calmed by this discovery.
Then the next kid began to discuss how his mother always ends their telephone conversations with, "Be healthy." This destroyed him because he believes that he has failed this simple request. He too began to weep. I sat there blinking my tears and not calling attention to them. The pathos I got from their confessions was enough for me to know that, I too, have these issues.
It was such an intense group for having not admitted anything directly. I felt exhausted and wanted to do nothing but go home. Unfortunately, I got talked into getting dinner with a couple of the older guys from group.
Perhaps it is cause they are both "emotionless" in general. Or that they couldn't relate, but at dinner they both agreed that they were so bored with group tonight. I know that we all have different ways of coping, but that shocked me. I was not necessarily upset with them, but the fact there was not empathy for the two guy's sadness. This confession exhausted my soul even more.
Tuesday, February 17
The Week I Have Known About For a Year
It's here, the week that I haven't looked forward to for a year. It's hit me like a ton of bricks and I don't know how to explain myself. I don't know if there's a way to explain myself. I am going to write and if it comes out in a way that makes sense. I shall be content at that.
It's a day. February 20th is a day. There is the stresses of life. The movie, college, love, unemployment and the future. There are the stresses of the year. Health, blood, loneliness, depression and the struggle to find a balance in it all.
I woke up yesterday morning. A Monday. As usual I felt tense and unsure. I did not want to go to the movie set because that's an unnecessary stress. An added worry. I feel like I'm shirking responsibility. I haven't been there today either. I will return tomorrow, but it leaves me terrified. Just being there. I will not quit and only a few weeks until it's all through. Then it will be complete.
I will hope that in that time I can gather strength to continue on with it. How do you explain to people that you just can't deal with it? I feel the need to be alone, but when I'm alone I feel like I want company.
Recently, I've just felt like the awareness of my situation is not helping. Tonight I made dinner. I am cooking full meals. Something a year ago I could never do. I made dinner for my roommate and a member from group. He says he doesn't think about his status. I suddenly felt like a child babbling about something I didn't understand. I just talk out of nervousness, I'm a scared person.
How can I get to this point where it's a non-issue. I'm not trying to be a martyr, it's just always there. When can I get to the point where it's like an unseemly birthmark? It's there, but I've learned to live with it.
My Mark of Caine returned because I have blood taken. Looking at a bruise on my arm can open a door. Thinking of a stupid date can do these things too.
Just ignore it then! It's a day, it was no different than two February's ago. Or four February's ago, except for the fact it is.
Sometimes I just want to be held until I can't breath and I'm forced to either scream or cry. Yet, the person will not let go until I have exhausted my emotions to the point of breaking. I want to sit there and scream.
I want therapy. I will get therapy. The anxiety that comes from simple tasks like calling and finding out information. The clarity of my mind says to do is ASAP, but the fogginess says to hold off.
I want to be a defined person. No more dramatic events, no more worrisome nights. No more loneliness. I know what I want to do it and sometimes I'm tired of just trying. Always pushing. There's always another step, there's always the advice, the offers and suggestions.
I'm going to sleep and keeping it in mind that when I wake. I will be better. I will feel better.
It's a day. February 20th is a day. There is the stresses of life. The movie, college, love, unemployment and the future. There are the stresses of the year. Health, blood, loneliness, depression and the struggle to find a balance in it all.
I woke up yesterday morning. A Monday. As usual I felt tense and unsure. I did not want to go to the movie set because that's an unnecessary stress. An added worry. I feel like I'm shirking responsibility. I haven't been there today either. I will return tomorrow, but it leaves me terrified. Just being there. I will not quit and only a few weeks until it's all through. Then it will be complete.
I will hope that in that time I can gather strength to continue on with it. How do you explain to people that you just can't deal with it? I feel the need to be alone, but when I'm alone I feel like I want company.
Recently, I've just felt like the awareness of my situation is not helping. Tonight I made dinner. I am cooking full meals. Something a year ago I could never do. I made dinner for my roommate and a member from group. He says he doesn't think about his status. I suddenly felt like a child babbling about something I didn't understand. I just talk out of nervousness, I'm a scared person.
How can I get to this point where it's a non-issue. I'm not trying to be a martyr, it's just always there. When can I get to the point where it's like an unseemly birthmark? It's there, but I've learned to live with it.
My Mark of Caine returned because I have blood taken. Looking at a bruise on my arm can open a door. Thinking of a stupid date can do these things too.
Just ignore it then! It's a day, it was no different than two February's ago. Or four February's ago, except for the fact it is.
Sometimes I just want to be held until I can't breath and I'm forced to either scream or cry. Yet, the person will not let go until I have exhausted my emotions to the point of breaking. I want to sit there and scream.
I want therapy. I will get therapy. The anxiety that comes from simple tasks like calling and finding out information. The clarity of my mind says to do is ASAP, but the fogginess says to hold off.
I want to be a defined person. No more dramatic events, no more worrisome nights. No more loneliness. I know what I want to do it and sometimes I'm tired of just trying. Always pushing. There's always another step, there's always the advice, the offers and suggestions.
I'm going to sleep and keeping it in mind that when I wake. I will be better. I will feel better.
Friday, February 13
Ending the Night With Something . . .
It was a trying day. I had to work on maintaining a positive demeanor. I did it though, I think I lost myself for a minute, but of an 9 hour day, that's pretty good.
I got a haircut for free. Of that, I am grateful. I played Wardrobe Supervisor pretty well. I started to enjoy myself a little. Oh to be paid for these experiences, it'll be Ecstasy!
My roommate got a gig in Florida. I need a temporary roommate to take her place for April and May. This won't be bad, but it's a little stressful. I'm totally proud of her for getting a job and to get to go to Florida, I envy that. I will be here, and someone must fill that bedroom.
Tomorrow I get my blood taken. Those 7-10 vials are always an unexplainable feeling. It's weird to not have that worried week after. Where you wonder if you find out the results. What will you do? No there is no worry about that. Now it becomes a fun game of numbers. What is up and what is down.
My numbers have been steady, my doctor doesn't make a big fuss about anything. I can't figure out if it's a good thing or not. In a way I want to know. I know many people who have their numbers memorized from test to test.
I just know that I will hopefully be healthier. I wonder. Let it be known, they have been pretty good to date. Famous last words.
Saturday is Valentine's Day. I don't know how I feel about this. I just don't know. I won't have a Valentine, I may go see Coraline with my friends. That sounds like a stellar day indeed! Who knows. These days anything is possible.
I got a haircut for free. Of that, I am grateful. I played Wardrobe Supervisor pretty well. I started to enjoy myself a little. Oh to be paid for these experiences, it'll be Ecstasy!
My roommate got a gig in Florida. I need a temporary roommate to take her place for April and May. This won't be bad, but it's a little stressful. I'm totally proud of her for getting a job and to get to go to Florida, I envy that. I will be here, and someone must fill that bedroom.
Tomorrow I get my blood taken. Those 7-10 vials are always an unexplainable feeling. It's weird to not have that worried week after. Where you wonder if you find out the results. What will you do? No there is no worry about that. Now it becomes a fun game of numbers. What is up and what is down.
My numbers have been steady, my doctor doesn't make a big fuss about anything. I can't figure out if it's a good thing or not. In a way I want to know. I know many people who have their numbers memorized from test to test.
I just know that I will hopefully be healthier. I wonder. Let it be known, they have been pretty good to date. Famous last words.
Saturday is Valentine's Day. I don't know how I feel about this. I just don't know. I won't have a Valentine, I may go see Coraline with my friends. That sounds like a stellar day indeed! Who knows. These days anything is possible.
Friday, February 6
It Truly Is The Cruelest Month
It's February, it slipped up on me. There's too many hidden memories that can slip up on me this month. Oh, it's a tricky month!
I was set off this evening when the costume designer asked me why I was in a fragile state of mind? When I was telling him about the Harring Letter. He did it in front of a few people I did not know. It put me in a state. Also, the fact that he is a Hot Dumpling and therefore lacks certain emotions.
My emotions are my own. I am the only one who owns them and if they are a little crazy. That is my business. I would love medication of some sort. The moment I get a job I think I am going to work toward this. The movie business is a touch ridiculous, people working for long hours and not getting paid. I feel it's only a matter of time before someone cracks.
This is how I am going to envision my life progressing for the next 3.5 months. I will look for a job and find one. I will start to make money and save money. To which I will eventually graduate college. That's all I care for right now, it's a time to prove myself. I've been bothered since on Feb 1st, my mother said: Iguana, I'm not sure I'm ready to give up my life to support yours.
Then perhaps you should not have had children. Moving home will never happen. It's not even an option I am allowing into my life.
I ask here and now [as I doomed my fate with Harring by declaring him just a third character in my Tall Man Epilogue] that the universe allow me to uphold all these requests. Give me diligence and energy to find a job and stay living in the city. Give me strength and reason to be happy daily, for I need to remember to love myself. It's time to prove oneself and right now there is so much uncertainty to the future. I ask to rise above it and live my life to it's fullest. I may have shown an excess of emotion in the last week or so, and I am willing to accept the negative energy. This is who I am and this is the only way I know how to react. I want to get better. I truly do.
I was set off this evening when the costume designer asked me why I was in a fragile state of mind? When I was telling him about the Harring Letter. He did it in front of a few people I did not know. It put me in a state. Also, the fact that he is a Hot Dumpling and therefore lacks certain emotions.
My emotions are my own. I am the only one who owns them and if they are a little crazy. That is my business. I would love medication of some sort. The moment I get a job I think I am going to work toward this. The movie business is a touch ridiculous, people working for long hours and not getting paid. I feel it's only a matter of time before someone cracks.
This is how I am going to envision my life progressing for the next 3.5 months. I will look for a job and find one. I will start to make money and save money. To which I will eventually graduate college. That's all I care for right now, it's a time to prove myself. I've been bothered since on Feb 1st, my mother said: Iguana, I'm not sure I'm ready to give up my life to support yours.
Then perhaps you should not have had children. Moving home will never happen. It's not even an option I am allowing into my life.
I ask here and now [as I doomed my fate with Harring by declaring him just a third character in my Tall Man Epilogue] that the universe allow me to uphold all these requests. Give me diligence and energy to find a job and stay living in the city. Give me strength and reason to be happy daily, for I need to remember to love myself. It's time to prove oneself and right now there is so much uncertainty to the future. I ask to rise above it and live my life to it's fullest. I may have shown an excess of emotion in the last week or so, and I am willing to accept the negative energy. This is who I am and this is the only way I know how to react. I want to get better. I truly do.
This is my request to the universe.
Monday, January 26
Group Session 1: Support & Cookies
I made it to the support group! I have been feeling off balance lately. Those entries are for a different date though. I will not be brought down by mild paranoia, stress and feelings of overwhelming doom. This is a night to celebrate!
I started off my journey to the group like this:
I needed to collect myself as only Joan Didion can teach me. I told myself that this was a good thing, there was no reason to feel as if the world is closing in on you. It was a bold attempt, and it worked somewhat.
Arriving to the LGBT Center, this time in the right room and on the right time. I began to feel terrified again. I clutched the chair. The room was filling up quickly, older gay men dominated, but of the twenty of us there were about seven who were in their 20s. I felt relief.
The group opened with stating your name and the feelings you were bringing into the session.
"I'm Iguana and I was supposed to be here two weeks ago, but I got lost." Everyone laughed and I smiled to show there were no hard feelings. "I feel overwhelmed. I have school that started today. Then this project outside of school. Also, this is all so new. . ." I trailed off, not wanting to be the talkative new guy. Another guy in the group passed around cookies and I held mine until after I had spoken. It was Oatmeal, M&Ms and HIV flavored.
"I am upset. . . because of all the new people attending the group." I felt a hint of shame, obviously I was one of these people. I would not let it get to me though, it saddened this man to see so many people infected. I had to admit he did have a right to feel that way.
I don't want to go into detail of how it all played out. I can best compare it to being in a cave filled with echoes. I heard so many things tonight. So many worries or issues that I'd heard before, but only in my head. I found myself agreeing with a guy who felt anxiety in trying to get proper medical care and felt nothing but frustration.
I listened to them open the discussion of "Were you surprised when you first found out?"
I felt my body tense. I'm new to this. Do I really go that far and tell that personal of a story?
Here it comes. . . "I knew I was going to get it. I did some many drugs. . .When you're that high, even when they told me they were poz. I didn't care. . ." Wait, what's not me. I looked up and saw a man across the way. He had the same story I had and so, I spoke up.
Why I spoke up is beyond me. I wanted to let him know he wasn't the only one. No one in the group had said it yet, "I agree with you--I--I have done many drugs-- f--or the last few--years. I would know who was poz and it didn't bother me either. Then when you're sober, it seems to be all you can think about." I trailed off because the reality had happened. I openly told a group of people that I did drugs and didn't care if I became positive. Okay, that felt different. We need to see what progresses from that point.
It was liberating in the sense that I know I am not the only person to make this choice. Does that make me feel any lighter? No. Do I feel proud? No. Do I feel that I've connected with the world and I am beginning to put my life together? A little. Baby steps.
We continued on. Discussing different issues. At one point someone pointed out how surprised he was that all the new people are sharing. I lowered my head until he added that it was a good thing.
The last thing that shook my soul was when someone brought up, "Telling your family." The room became a game of hush. The distance this creates and how we all hate it. I spoke out because the topic was so ripe I could not resist picking it from the vine.
"I was born the middle child and grew up as the one you didn't need to watch. I always got good grades and my brother created trouble. I could move to NYC and take care of myself! Now I can shake the very foundation of my family life with one sentence. I have become the child who has the biggest issue to deal with and I cannot speak with them about it. I fight with my mother and it ended with my screaming at her that I was looking for therapy and she said, 'I didn't know your childhood was so rough.' And I had to let her believe that was the reason I wanted it. . ."
I felt small. I felt afraid. I felt alone.
At the end of the group we went around again and stated our names and feelings.
"I'm Iguana and I'm still feeling overwhelmed."
I will return next week, though.
I started off my journey to the group like this:
I needed to collect myself as only Joan Didion can teach me. I told myself that this was a good thing, there was no reason to feel as if the world is closing in on you. It was a bold attempt, and it worked somewhat. Arriving to the LGBT Center, this time in the right room and on the right time. I began to feel terrified again. I clutched the chair. The room was filling up quickly, older gay men dominated, but of the twenty of us there were about seven who were in their 20s. I felt relief.
The group opened with stating your name and the feelings you were bringing into the session.
"I'm Iguana and I was supposed to be here two weeks ago, but I got lost." Everyone laughed and I smiled to show there were no hard feelings. "I feel overwhelmed. I have school that started today. Then this project outside of school. Also, this is all so new. . ." I trailed off, not wanting to be the talkative new guy. Another guy in the group passed around cookies and I held mine until after I had spoken. It was Oatmeal, M&Ms and HIV flavored.
"I am upset. . . because of all the new people attending the group." I felt a hint of shame, obviously I was one of these people. I would not let it get to me though, it saddened this man to see so many people infected. I had to admit he did have a right to feel that way.
I don't want to go into detail of how it all played out. I can best compare it to being in a cave filled with echoes. I heard so many things tonight. So many worries or issues that I'd heard before, but only in my head. I found myself agreeing with a guy who felt anxiety in trying to get proper medical care and felt nothing but frustration.
I listened to them open the discussion of "Were you surprised when you first found out?"
I felt my body tense. I'm new to this. Do I really go that far and tell that personal of a story?
Here it comes. . . "I knew I was going to get it. I did some many drugs. . .When you're that high, even when they told me they were poz. I didn't care. . ." Wait, what's not me. I looked up and saw a man across the way. He had the same story I had and so, I spoke up.
Why I spoke up is beyond me. I wanted to let him know he wasn't the only one. No one in the group had said it yet, "I agree with you--I--I have done many drugs-- f--or the last few--years. I would know who was poz and it didn't bother me either. Then when you're sober, it seems to be all you can think about." I trailed off because the reality had happened. I openly told a group of people that I did drugs and didn't care if I became positive. Okay, that felt different. We need to see what progresses from that point.
It was liberating in the sense that I know I am not the only person to make this choice. Does that make me feel any lighter? No. Do I feel proud? No. Do I feel that I've connected with the world and I am beginning to put my life together? A little. Baby steps.
We continued on. Discussing different issues. At one point someone pointed out how surprised he was that all the new people are sharing. I lowered my head until he added that it was a good thing.
The last thing that shook my soul was when someone brought up, "Telling your family." The room became a game of hush. The distance this creates and how we all hate it. I spoke out because the topic was so ripe I could not resist picking it from the vine.
"I was born the middle child and grew up as the one you didn't need to watch. I always got good grades and my brother created trouble. I could move to NYC and take care of myself! Now I can shake the very foundation of my family life with one sentence. I have become the child who has the biggest issue to deal with and I cannot speak with them about it. I fight with my mother and it ended with my screaming at her that I was looking for therapy and she said, 'I didn't know your childhood was so rough.' And I had to let her believe that was the reason I wanted it. . ."
I felt small. I felt afraid. I felt alone.
At the end of the group we went around again and stated our names and feelings.
"I'm Iguana and I'm still feeling overwhelmed."
I will return next week, though.
Monday, January 12
Learning To Connect
I hate the heavy feeling of tears. I don't know if everyone else can feel that when you're about to burst into tears. Suddenly, every facial gesture is calculated and planned. If you forget yourself for a second, then the flood will begin and it may never end.
For months I have been putting a lot of hope and faith into joining a support group to deal with the issues concerning my health and emotional spirit.
To partake in this group is a huge step for me. It was agreeing to meet weekly for three months and to address the issue of my HIV status with a group of other men. I ask you for a moment to sit and seriously think about that. What implications this holds on one's mind, body and spirit. Please. That's all I'm asking before I go on. Thank you for indulging me.
There was the intake session. Which is required for this group. It was meeting with this Counselor, Bonnie, that life got a little more real. I was open and honest with her. I named all the drugs I have issues with. All the thoughts that can go on my head in one day. I was being honest with myself. The old memories you have to disturb by just saying the word, "Crystal." Leaving that room left me shaken and vulnerable.
Then you realize the lack of vocabulary you have to articulate ideas about yourself. "Can you describe these thoughts? When you have them and how often?" I am sorry, but I don't see time the same way you do. Years and days have begun to flow into one another. What was once a thought I had for a day. Has suddenly been reoccurring for over a decade. I didn't notice it happening, yet there is the proof.
Also, give me a call next time you have to call up your doctor and ask him for the written paperwork declaring that you're HIV positive. I'll then be able to articulate the weirdness of the whole situation. Do I have to sound excited when I ask for them? Or do I sound matter-of-factly? Or when the front desk receptionist gives you an odd look as if no one with a disease has walked up to that desk before. Then when you tell her what you're seeking her tonal inflection changes just a little. As if apologizing to hear your news. If only you knew I was going to make copies and throw them off the Empire State Building.
Tonight. The first night of meetings and I arrived early. The train ride was a struggle in both the ride and in my head. I was not sure if this could be for me. Support groups can be so misleading. What if I am the only young guy here? What do I have to complain about? Some guy left you a month after you found out. I've abused drugs? Was that all that bad? Or perhaps these guys all got it from their partners. They may sound like simple fears, but they can make a forty minute train ride take forever.
Now I stood before the Welcome Center Desk and looked at the list of rooms and which groups were meeting where. My heart began to quicken at that moment, my mind was also listening to one of the attendant's talking to another older man who walked in. He was explaining, "I don't know about a group meeting afterward. There was the Positive Care I group that met from 6 to 7:30 PM. Nothing afterwards though . . ."
I quickly looked at the list and told myself that it wasn't my group too! I did not make this trip for nothing! I scanned the names and couldn't find the group. I took out my iPhone out and quickly went to the LGBT Center website to find the group. I then went up the volunteer attendant and showed her my phone. "I'm looking for this group."
She read the phone and called a number, screamed to someone across the room and said a little prayer before looking me in the eyes. There was that weight again, I felt the tears sneaking up. Now I needed to be careful in what I said or I may lose it.
"Why don't you go up to the group that meets before this group. Positive Care I, it's just getting out. Ask the coordinator there!" I still wonder if it hurts less to tire the victim down before giving the final blow?
As I walked up the stairs to the room, the group before was getting out. I had a feeling that even if my group was canceled I could possibly get into this group. Yet, as more people passed and I saw how crowded the group already was. My hopes dimmed a little more and my eyes felt heavy again.
I started into the eyes of a man I could tell was the coordinator of the group. I dared not speak for fear I already knew the answer I was going to receive. We stared at each other for a good 30 seconds before he finally broke and asked what I was looking for.
"I was told to ask you about a second group meeting here from 7:30 to 9?"
"No."
"Excuse me? It's listed on the website and I went to an inta--"
"I was not informed there was a second group meeting here tonight."
"Who would know?"
"Ada."
"Who?"
"Ada. In the CARE Center. Go ask her."
I ran down the hall, paying close attention to my eyes and how they looked. I was now getting frustrated and being sent on a chase that would not end happily. I got to the CARE Center and rang the doorbell. No one answered. I returned to the Welcome Center Desk. I approached the man who I had spoken to less than five minutes ago.
"I asked the man about the group." He gave me a blank stare. "About the Positive Care II group." Suddenly it all registered. "He told me to ask Ada. In the CARE Center. What time is that open?"
"10 AM to 6PM."
"So there's no one else here who can possibly know what's going on? If the group is happening?"
"No. Ada will know. She's gone home though. It's after 6 PM."
I turned away quickly and walked out the door. The cold air and the weight of my eyes caused a reaction that I hated, but was necessary. I wept openly as I walked down the street. The cold made it impossible for my eyes to not water, and the weight of the tears caused it to flow freely.
The crying felt so excessive. I will cry tomorrow after they tell me it's been canceled, I don't need to cry now! It was the irony of it all, the literal symbolism that made me weep. Partially out of hilarity as USUAL! I went to seek support and I found there was none to give. How can you not feel sad after discovering that. Yet it existed. There was another man who showed up. He and I. We wanted to learn about living with HIV from others at the allotted time of 7:30PM to 9PM!
Here I was, walking to the subway and balling my eyes out. I put on David Bowie and a song called Sorrows came on. It was over before it began.
I am not defeated. I know I'm not. I'm upset that this is the entry into what I hoped would be a positive experience. The theme of 2009 seems to be if you are nervous about something then life with throw a curve ball. At the end of the night it's just another night. I've gotten to this moment without a support group, so continuing another week or so won't destroy me.
If tomorrow they tell me that I missed my chance or something along those lines. I will tell them we need to discuss private therapy. Which I'm lead to believe can be given to me for free. It will work out.
I allowed my moment to cry. To burst into tears. How can all that build up not lead to tears?
For months I have been putting a lot of hope and faith into joining a support group to deal with the issues concerning my health and emotional spirit.
Positive Care II: Living with HIVThere it is. My support group as explained by the advertisement on the website. I am HIV positive and I am living with it! To even type that stirs my soul and gives me reason to pause. I get frazzled when the idea enters my mind uninvited.
A group for men living long term with HIV to provide emotional support to maintain and promote health and happiness. This group provides a space to discuss concerns around self-esteem, isolation, safer sex, stigma, etc. Open to gay and bisexual men and men of trans-experience.
Mondays 7:30-9 pm—Jan 12 to Apr 6 (no mtgs on Jan 19 or Feb 16).
Intake required. Please call to schedule. Free.
To partake in this group is a huge step for me. It was agreeing to meet weekly for three months and to address the issue of my HIV status with a group of other men. I ask you for a moment to sit and seriously think about that. What implications this holds on one's mind, body and spirit. Please. That's all I'm asking before I go on. Thank you for indulging me.
There was the intake session. Which is required for this group. It was meeting with this Counselor, Bonnie, that life got a little more real. I was open and honest with her. I named all the drugs I have issues with. All the thoughts that can go on my head in one day. I was being honest with myself. The old memories you have to disturb by just saying the word, "Crystal." Leaving that room left me shaken and vulnerable.
Then you realize the lack of vocabulary you have to articulate ideas about yourself. "Can you describe these thoughts? When you have them and how often?" I am sorry, but I don't see time the same way you do. Years and days have begun to flow into one another. What was once a thought I had for a day. Has suddenly been reoccurring for over a decade. I didn't notice it happening, yet there is the proof.
Also, give me a call next time you have to call up your doctor and ask him for the written paperwork declaring that you're HIV positive. I'll then be able to articulate the weirdness of the whole situation. Do I have to sound excited when I ask for them? Or do I sound matter-of-factly? Or when the front desk receptionist gives you an odd look as if no one with a disease has walked up to that desk before. Then when you tell her what you're seeking her tonal inflection changes just a little. As if apologizing to hear your news. If only you knew I was going to make copies and throw them off the Empire State Building.
* * *
Tonight. The first night of meetings and I arrived early. The train ride was a struggle in both the ride and in my head. I was not sure if this could be for me. Support groups can be so misleading. What if I am the only young guy here? What do I have to complain about? Some guy left you a month after you found out. I've abused drugs? Was that all that bad? Or perhaps these guys all got it from their partners. They may sound like simple fears, but they can make a forty minute train ride take forever.
Now I stood before the Welcome Center Desk and looked at the list of rooms and which groups were meeting where. My heart began to quicken at that moment, my mind was also listening to one of the attendant's talking to another older man who walked in. He was explaining, "I don't know about a group meeting afterward. There was the Positive Care I group that met from 6 to 7:30 PM. Nothing afterwards though . . ."
I quickly looked at the list and told myself that it wasn't my group too! I did not make this trip for nothing! I scanned the names and couldn't find the group. I took out my iPhone out and quickly went to the LGBT Center website to find the group. I then went up the volunteer attendant and showed her my phone. "I'm looking for this group."
She read the phone and called a number, screamed to someone across the room and said a little prayer before looking me in the eyes. There was that weight again, I felt the tears sneaking up. Now I needed to be careful in what I said or I may lose it.
"Why don't you go up to the group that meets before this group. Positive Care I, it's just getting out. Ask the coordinator there!" I still wonder if it hurts less to tire the victim down before giving the final blow?
As I walked up the stairs to the room, the group before was getting out. I had a feeling that even if my group was canceled I could possibly get into this group. Yet, as more people passed and I saw how crowded the group already was. My hopes dimmed a little more and my eyes felt heavy again.
I started into the eyes of a man I could tell was the coordinator of the group. I dared not speak for fear I already knew the answer I was going to receive. We stared at each other for a good 30 seconds before he finally broke and asked what I was looking for.
"I was told to ask you about a second group meeting here from 7:30 to 9?"
"No."
"Excuse me? It's listed on the website and I went to an inta--"
"I was not informed there was a second group meeting here tonight."
"Who would know?"
"Ada."
"Who?"
"Ada. In the CARE Center. Go ask her."
I ran down the hall, paying close attention to my eyes and how they looked. I was now getting frustrated and being sent on a chase that would not end happily. I got to the CARE Center and rang the doorbell. No one answered. I returned to the Welcome Center Desk. I approached the man who I had spoken to less than five minutes ago.
"I asked the man about the group." He gave me a blank stare. "About the Positive Care II group." Suddenly it all registered. "He told me to ask Ada. In the CARE Center. What time is that open?"
"10 AM to 6PM."
"So there's no one else here who can possibly know what's going on? If the group is happening?"
"No. Ada will know. She's gone home though. It's after 6 PM."
I turned away quickly and walked out the door. The cold air and the weight of my eyes caused a reaction that I hated, but was necessary. I wept openly as I walked down the street. The cold made it impossible for my eyes to not water, and the weight of the tears caused it to flow freely.
The crying felt so excessive. I will cry tomorrow after they tell me it's been canceled, I don't need to cry now! It was the irony of it all, the literal symbolism that made me weep. Partially out of hilarity as USUAL! I went to seek support and I found there was none to give. How can you not feel sad after discovering that. Yet it existed. There was another man who showed up. He and I. We wanted to learn about living with HIV from others at the allotted time of 7:30PM to 9PM!
Here I was, walking to the subway and balling my eyes out. I put on David Bowie and a song called Sorrows came on. It was over before it began.
I am not defeated. I know I'm not. I'm upset that this is the entry into what I hoped would be a positive experience. The theme of 2009 seems to be if you are nervous about something then life with throw a curve ball. At the end of the night it's just another night. I've gotten to this moment without a support group, so continuing another week or so won't destroy me.
If tomorrow they tell me that I missed my chance or something along those lines. I will tell them we need to discuss private therapy. Which I'm lead to believe can be given to me for free. It will work out.
I allowed my moment to cry. To burst into tears. How can all that build up not lead to tears?
Thursday, October 30
The Plague
I was talking with a friend from high school tonight about life. She called because she feels guilty for jumping into Graduate School to soon. I'm one of the belief that I try to treat friend's problems as if they all equally important. We all develop differently, and if going to Grad School to early is what aches your heart, who am I to disagree?
So I listened and I tried to tell her that she needs to grow and that what she will be doing in ten years won't have any repercussions because you went to Grad School right after college. The world is falling apart, feel glad you'll have gone through it without having to have dealt with real life.
Then she uttered, "I am still a little weirded out with you being...you know?"
To which I responded, "What with my affliction to the plague?" I told her that she needed to realize that what I have isn't some rare disease anymore, that I'm not an imaginary figure somehow come to life. That what I have has been around since before we were born. I do not what to be viewed as some tragic victim. As if the me now, is any less of a person than he was years ago.
Perhaps I am a little less of a person. I still will not just sit around and talk about myself as if I'm some legendary figure. It bothered me more than I figured it would.
This is my life, it's no less normal than yours. We just want to be normal here.
Normal people have issues too.
Normal. Issues.
So I listened and I tried to tell her that she needs to grow and that what she will be doing in ten years won't have any repercussions because you went to Grad School right after college. The world is falling apart, feel glad you'll have gone through it without having to have dealt with real life.
Then she uttered, "I am still a little weirded out with you being...you know?"
To which I responded, "What with my affliction to the plague?" I told her that she needed to realize that what I have isn't some rare disease anymore, that I'm not an imaginary figure somehow come to life. That what I have has been around since before we were born. I do not what to be viewed as some tragic victim. As if the me now, is any less of a person than he was years ago.
Perhaps I am a little less of a person. I still will not just sit around and talk about myself as if I'm some legendary figure. It bothered me more than I figured it would.
This is my life, it's no less normal than yours. We just want to be normal here.
Normal people have issues too.
Normal. Issues.
Sunday, October 12
Ambien
My doctor didn't give me anti-anxiety pills because, "The world is going mad. It's not you."
Touche, this is true doctor. Then Cesar, my blood technician gave me a pep talk on life. Telling me to live my life and not to let this disease get me down. How did I fall into this Lifetime movie and who do I have to blow to stay here?
I am giving the world karma and taking back it in equal thrusts! I am trying my best. I want a job, I can get a job and I will try. Soon I'll be graduated from college. I'm cooking eggs! These are all steps in some direction.
I have news and I want you to all gather around. I have finally taken that leap and signed up for a support group. This is a big step in a good direction! Am I at a point where I want to get to know myself better? To reenter the Gay Race, with people who are in the same boat? It's terrifying.
It's starts sometime in January and that means it'll have been almost a year when I start this group. The group is for the Newly Diagnosed. It's a three month long group and you have to go to an intake session beforehand. Where they ask you a bunch of personal questions so they know what kind of person is joining. I plan on being as honest as I can be.
I signed up and wondered if it's been almost a year, am I still considered newly diagnosed? Will I be with a bunch of people who just found out? Were people that in control when they first found out? How is that possible? They just knew they wanted help?
It's all so odd, I begin to feel guilty for not acting sooner. Like why didn't my "flight" sense go off and I drop everything and seek help when I first had my breakdown. When The Tall Man dropped me?
Nerves would be one reason. I was (still am) a mess, I was scared and depressed. Another reason would be time. I was working and going to class and I found those two tasks tiring enough. The idea of entering a new comfort zone was non-existent. I had no comfort zones at that time.
Which is a reason I want to join it. I want to learn to trust again. I want to know that I can feel normal in my own skin. That I can feel normal with people like me. I want to know what other people are going through.
Oh, my head is so light just from thinking of this. I get nervous that January won't come fast enough. They gave me numbers to other places like GMHC and Greenwich House. And I need to wait for the play to finish before I can think of calling. Making this appointment was probably calculated because it gives me time to back out! But I won't! Someone, Mark my words.
I hope by that time I will have some sort of job. So life won't be that dismal. One step at a time, it's a long and slippery ride. These little steps have only helped me realize how far I am coming and how well I have it together.
The last point of news for the night is I realized that since 2004 I have continually been keeping a blog of my life in New York City. I have begun archiving them. Call it vanity, but I recently have sat down and thought, "I don't remember certain memories. It seems so blurry. Maybe it's how quickly it's moving. Or perhaps it's the drugs? Or it could be that I am choosing to forget!"
I can't deny it anymore. Counting my old blog before this one. Starting on July 12th 2004 (before I moved) have been constantly keeping a log of my life. Emotionally, not for show like blogs nowadays. That pretend they are about the human experience. Instead they are about the latest Mac Product being release. How can you look back at that and feel like your life was at all interesting?
It'll be scary to remember, to relive and to reread these entries in sequence. I will see the ups and I will see the downs. Perhaps I'll remember what I was really thinking when I wrote this. What substance was I abusing when I seems so blatantly upbeat here? Was I really happy, or just projection an image I wanted the inter web to perceive.
It's going to be a long journey, but I intend on taking it in stride. It can't ruin anything that's not already ruined. Don't you agree?
Touche, this is true doctor. Then Cesar, my blood technician gave me a pep talk on life. Telling me to live my life and not to let this disease get me down. How did I fall into this Lifetime movie and who do I have to blow to stay here?
I am giving the world karma and taking back it in equal thrusts! I am trying my best. I want a job, I can get a job and I will try. Soon I'll be graduated from college. I'm cooking eggs! These are all steps in some direction.
I have news and I want you to all gather around. I have finally taken that leap and signed up for a support group. This is a big step in a good direction! Am I at a point where I want to get to know myself better? To reenter the Gay Race, with people who are in the same boat? It's terrifying.
It's starts sometime in January and that means it'll have been almost a year when I start this group. The group is for the Newly Diagnosed. It's a three month long group and you have to go to an intake session beforehand. Where they ask you a bunch of personal questions so they know what kind of person is joining. I plan on being as honest as I can be.
I signed up and wondered if it's been almost a year, am I still considered newly diagnosed? Will I be with a bunch of people who just found out? Were people that in control when they first found out? How is that possible? They just knew they wanted help?
It's all so odd, I begin to feel guilty for not acting sooner. Like why didn't my "flight" sense go off and I drop everything and seek help when I first had my breakdown. When The Tall Man dropped me?
Nerves would be one reason. I was (still am) a mess, I was scared and depressed. Another reason would be time. I was working and going to class and I found those two tasks tiring enough. The idea of entering a new comfort zone was non-existent. I had no comfort zones at that time.
Which is a reason I want to join it. I want to learn to trust again. I want to know that I can feel normal in my own skin. That I can feel normal with people like me. I want to know what other people are going through.
Oh, my head is so light just from thinking of this. I get nervous that January won't come fast enough. They gave me numbers to other places like GMHC and Greenwich House. And I need to wait for the play to finish before I can think of calling. Making this appointment was probably calculated because it gives me time to back out! But I won't! Someone, Mark my words.
I hope by that time I will have some sort of job. So life won't be that dismal. One step at a time, it's a long and slippery ride. These little steps have only helped me realize how far I am coming and how well I have it together.
The last point of news for the night is I realized that since 2004 I have continually been keeping a blog of my life in New York City. I have begun archiving them. Call it vanity, but I recently have sat down and thought, "I don't remember certain memories. It seems so blurry. Maybe it's how quickly it's moving. Or perhaps it's the drugs? Or it could be that I am choosing to forget!"
I can't deny it anymore. Counting my old blog before this one. Starting on July 12th 2004 (before I moved) have been constantly keeping a log of my life. Emotionally, not for show like blogs nowadays. That pretend they are about the human experience. Instead they are about the latest Mac Product being release. How can you look back at that and feel like your life was at all interesting?
It'll be scary to remember, to relive and to reread these entries in sequence. I will see the ups and I will see the downs. Perhaps I'll remember what I was really thinking when I wrote this. What substance was I abusing when I seems so blatantly upbeat here? Was I really happy, or just projection an image I wanted the inter web to perceive.
It's going to be a long journey, but I intend on taking it in stride. It can't ruin anything that's not already ruined. Don't you agree?
Sunday, August 17
The First Time I Saw My Blood
The first time I have seen my blood since it's all begun. I have seen it before in vials, at least ten at a time. I cut my finger opening a bottle of wine and I noticed a red dot on my plug to my laptop. So bright and red. I was astounded at how simple it looked, but so amazed as how something as small as this little red dot could cause someone to get so nervous.
It did not burn through the power cord. It didn't ruin anything. Yet, in looking at it I was amazed at the crimson color. It seemed so compact and easy to explain. It hardly is that way. No, this liquid tells stories.
I quickly wiped the drop away and applied a band-aid. I am a creature that creates confusion. It's a role I have to play. I may as well do it to my abilities.
It did not burn through the power cord. It didn't ruin anything. Yet, in looking at it I was amazed at the crimson color. It seemed so compact and easy to explain. It hardly is that way. No, this liquid tells stories.
I quickly wiped the drop away and applied a band-aid. I am a creature that creates confusion. It's a role I have to play. I may as well do it to my abilities.
Wednesday, July 30
Showing Your Wounds
When is the right time exactly? For those who date and never come up to the point where they need to be open with a person early enough in the relationship because you know telling them later will only cause complications. Telling someone you're HIV positive is such a strange situation. I have friends to demand that you must tell the person before sex. Now if it's just a hookup that is where the lines get blurred.
But for dating. When do you tell them? Do you tell them before the date? After the fourth? After the first? If we're playing by the rules it's before sex then obviously it must be soon cause gay men don't hold off on sex normally. And I mean do you want to wait for the moment before it happens to tell them.
I have just recently come to the conclusion that it's my choice of how I tell them. Sometimes it's in person, other times through email or IM. Call it impersonal, but at this point in our relationship aren't we not on that person level. And for a moment would you consider that it's for your benefit too?
I have sat there and watched people cry for me. People gracefully lie to me about how it'll be all okay, while they were already figuring out when they'll never see me again. I have watched my friend's eyes fill up with the thoughts of what they think will happen to me.
So if I choose to tell you electronically, it's about 50/50 in terms of why I am doing that.
So yea, regardless obviously something along these lines has happened to me. I told a guy I was dating and of course he's taking his time before he gives me a full reaction. Sure, that's his right. I presented him with something he will choose.
It's never my choice, because my choice has already been made apparently. That's a discussion for a different time.
Whats the point of telling someone if you're going to fuck with a condom and then never see them again?
But for dating. When do you tell them? Do you tell them before the date? After the fourth? After the first? If we're playing by the rules it's before sex then obviously it must be soon cause gay men don't hold off on sex normally. And I mean do you want to wait for the moment before it happens to tell them.
I have just recently come to the conclusion that it's my choice of how I tell them. Sometimes it's in person, other times through email or IM. Call it impersonal, but at this point in our relationship aren't we not on that person level. And for a moment would you consider that it's for your benefit too?
I have sat there and watched people cry for me. People gracefully lie to me about how it'll be all okay, while they were already figuring out when they'll never see me again. I have watched my friend's eyes fill up with the thoughts of what they think will happen to me.
So if I choose to tell you electronically, it's about 50/50 in terms of why I am doing that.
So yea, regardless obviously something along these lines has happened to me. I told a guy I was dating and of course he's taking his time before he gives me a full reaction. Sure, that's his right. I presented him with something he will choose.
It's never my choice, because my choice has already been made apparently. That's a discussion for a different time.
Look at me, being serious.
Tuesday, May 20
Scenes With My Family: Aunt Visits
A summation of the visit with my Aunt...
(IGUANA sits down in Deli booth with his AUNT. IGUANA digs into his panini ravenously.)
AUNT: How was the AIDS Walk?
IGUANA: It was fantastic! Our group raised about 3,000 dollars total. Which is terrific since there were only like 7 or 8 of us!
AUNT: Tell me, do you think they'll ever find a cure?
(Long pause)
IGUANA: Let me tell you something about America first...
Thursday, May 8
Words beyond words
This says better than I could ever say....
"When I confess, my disclosure is offered up to someone who is assumed to be morally superior. When I bear witness, there is a balance of power and vulnerability between us, and that which is personal is also plural.” If bearing witness is to show by one’s existence that something is true, is the New York Patient confessing or bearing witness to the Manhattan high school students, to me in my role as journalist, and to readers of this essay? When it comes to sexual risk and HIV, do we recognize any narrative besides a confession? What choice have we given the New York Patient other than offering an explanation for what we have already framed as his failure? Confession or bearing witness?
"When I confess, my disclosure is offered up to someone who is assumed to be morally superior. When I bear witness, there is a balance of power and vulnerability between us, and that which is personal is also plural.” If bearing witness is to show by one’s existence that something is true, is the New York Patient confessing or bearing witness to the Manhattan high school students, to me in my role as journalist, and to readers of this essay? When it comes to sexual risk and HIV, do we recognize any narrative besides a confession? What choice have we given the New York Patient other than offering an explanation for what we have already framed as his failure? Confession or bearing witness?
Wednesday, April 23
Elite Controller
Hi, I seemed to have misplaced my viral load. Have you seen it?
My doctor informs me that I may be an Elite Controller. I'm Typhoid Mary. How utterly surreal. It truly is the Mark of Cain. I know I should be ecstatic that I'm healthy. The healthy I could ever be. Granted in a year or so I could be proven totally wrong. As of right now though I'm just living with it in my body.
Still something I need to inform people about, still something people will judge me by. Still something that will cause people to feel sorry for me and cry when they think of my death.
The best part to come yet is I may be studied. My doctor is going to call the Aaron Diamond Hospital or something. I would've settled for internship news instead, but I guess this will do for now?
My doctor informs me that I may be an Elite Controller. I'm Typhoid Mary. How utterly surreal. It truly is the Mark of Cain. I know I should be ecstatic that I'm healthy. The healthy I could ever be. Granted in a year or so I could be proven totally wrong. As of right now though I'm just living with it in my body.
Still something I need to inform people about, still something people will judge me by. Still something that will cause people to feel sorry for me and cry when they think of my death.
The best part to come yet is I may be studied. My doctor is going to call the Aaron Diamond Hospital or something. I would've settled for internship news instead, but I guess this will do for now?
Friday, April 11
Have To Believe It's Getting Better.
Yesterday should be classified in what I wanted to be another horrible day. Yet, life seems to be forgiving me. As much as I wanted to stay unhappy about issues. I mean I skipped the gym, I didn't want to go to school and I was sleepy the first half of the afternoon.
Yet, I got an email telling me I received an Email telling me I got an A- in my Costume Costume construction class. That means, today the Saga of the Patti LuPone Pillow is finished! It's done, the stress of that is through. And I did it. By myself, determined and stoned.
Then I got my short story back from my teacher and she absolutely loved it. She told me it still needs some working (which I knew of), but she encouraged me to continue on with my writing career. To this I was elated and cautious. I mean it is a Intro to Creative Writing Class, but I know she's a well rounded Teacher. So I was happy by that, and yes I am going to continue my writing career. I will continue it indeed. Perhaps I'll email the story to anyone, if they're interested? So of the four of you who read this. Send a comment and I'll email it to you.
Then I had a doctor's appointment. I'm still trying to figure out how exactly I can sign up for ADAP and APIC. It's the governments way of saying, "We're going to help you through this ordeal." Yet, figuring out how to fill out this form is like solving and ancient puzzle. So I guess I'm up to the game of it.
As for the doctor's visit. He doesn't seem to want me to leave the office. Nor do I wish to leave it either. And it logically seems like I won't have to if APIC works and starts paying for my health insurance for me. Yet, to become part of APIC, I need to sign up for ADAP and that means I must sign up for Medicaid. Meaning lose my current insurance. Meaning I would lose my doctor, right? right?! Among that, my doctor seems to have a grudge against Callen-Lorde.
Now, for some great...if not terrific news. My doctor sat down and told me about my blood tests. Though my tests still come back positive. My T-Cell Count is inhumanly high, higher than most people he said it was at 1000. This doesn't mean in the next couple of years it could drop or fall. I doubt my crazy weekend depleted anything to much.
He also informed me that my Viral Load was so low that it didn't even read on the test. They test for a count of 400 and I didn't come up, negative. Now for the rest of my life you cannot say negative to me without my ears perking up and my eyes growing wide. I had to make sure I heard him correctly. So he's retesting my blood for a count of 52 and he says if I'm not on that, then I will have to go to an institute for tests because I'm 1 in a 1000s.
That would be wild. My legacy right there. I know it won't be that way. My friend tells me that it jumps the first year, so who knows. In short I have a good chance of going my entire life being undetectable and never having to go on Medication. That is written in the stars and if I quit smoking.
Which brings me to my next point: I'm quitting smoking. After this last pack. When he told me I had four left in my pack. And I thought, "What a bum deal? I'll buy one more pack and then I'll do it." I know I should be all like, "Let's start now!" Forgive me, but allow me one more pack before I say goodbye for good.
In short, I'm Typhoid Mary.
Lastly, and I will not put a big stress on it until it really happens, but an internship I applied for setup and interview with me for Tuesday. I'm going to discuss it anymore. Perhaps this is the "good" thing that could possibly be happening to me? Perhaps is the keyword. If not, I'll know that my life isn't ready to be good yet. It's nice to have a little hope. Don't wish me luck, don't offer prayers. Well you can, just don't tell me about it until AFTER I give any good news.
Yet, I got an email telling me I received an Email telling me I got an A- in my Costume Costume construction class. That means, today the Saga of the Patti LuPone Pillow is finished! It's done, the stress of that is through. And I did it. By myself, determined and stoned.
Then I got my short story back from my teacher and she absolutely loved it. She told me it still needs some working (which I knew of), but she encouraged me to continue on with my writing career. To this I was elated and cautious. I mean it is a Intro to Creative Writing Class, but I know she's a well rounded Teacher. So I was happy by that, and yes I am going to continue my writing career. I will continue it indeed. Perhaps I'll email the story to anyone, if they're interested? So of the four of you who read this. Send a comment and I'll email it to you.
Then I had a doctor's appointment. I'm still trying to figure out how exactly I can sign up for ADAP and APIC. It's the governments way of saying, "We're going to help you through this ordeal." Yet, figuring out how to fill out this form is like solving and ancient puzzle. So I guess I'm up to the game of it.
As for the doctor's visit. He doesn't seem to want me to leave the office. Nor do I wish to leave it either. And it logically seems like I won't have to if APIC works and starts paying for my health insurance for me. Yet, to become part of APIC, I need to sign up for ADAP and that means I must sign up for Medicaid. Meaning lose my current insurance. Meaning I would lose my doctor, right? right?! Among that, my doctor seems to have a grudge against Callen-Lorde.
Now, for some great...if not terrific news. My doctor sat down and told me about my blood tests. Though my tests still come back positive. My T-Cell Count is inhumanly high, higher than most people he said it was at 1000. This doesn't mean in the next couple of years it could drop or fall. I doubt my crazy weekend depleted anything to much.
He also informed me that my Viral Load was so low that it didn't even read on the test. They test for a count of 400 and I didn't come up, negative. Now for the rest of my life you cannot say negative to me without my ears perking up and my eyes growing wide. I had to make sure I heard him correctly. So he's retesting my blood for a count of 52 and he says if I'm not on that, then I will have to go to an institute for tests because I'm 1 in a 1000s.
That would be wild. My legacy right there. I know it won't be that way. My friend tells me that it jumps the first year, so who knows. In short I have a good chance of going my entire life being undetectable and never having to go on Medication. That is written in the stars and if I quit smoking.
Which brings me to my next point: I'm quitting smoking. After this last pack. When he told me I had four left in my pack. And I thought, "What a bum deal? I'll buy one more pack and then I'll do it." I know I should be all like, "Let's start now!" Forgive me, but allow me one more pack before I say goodbye for good.
In short, I'm Typhoid Mary.
Lastly, and I will not put a big stress on it until it really happens, but an internship I applied for setup and interview with me for Tuesday. I'm going to discuss it anymore. Perhaps this is the "good" thing that could possibly be happening to me? Perhaps is the keyword. If not, I'll know that my life isn't ready to be good yet. It's nice to have a little hope. Don't wish me luck, don't offer prayers. Well you can, just don't tell me about it until AFTER I give any good news.
Tuesday, April 8
It hurts so bad, it gets me down, down down...
Time's have been trying and I have been faced with decisions. School has taken a backseat to my life right now. And to prove that nothing in life is permanent I decided that on Monday and Tuesday (today) I would throw plans to the wind and abandon everything that was officially scheduled. Meaning school and homework and therapy. Instead I went down the Judy Garland Way of Dealing with Internal Struggle. Of course that means I did copious amounts of drugs to help ignore the pain. As well as I followed my old route as a slut and had copious amounts of sex with a small group of people. (Only three different individuals in actuality. But the sex was hot and I enjoyed it).
I know it's not the way to do this, but I realize now that normal conventions can go to hell. Sure it's true I'm going through the first step: Denial. I admit that openly. If others can do it, then so can I. After ending this 48 hour excursion I realize that I can now safely return back to my normal life. I let myself have these 48 hours of absolute craziness, and I don't deny I may return to it from time to time. But I am a different person than I was two years ago, or a year ago for that matter. So I know I can allow myself into these views of life.
All day I sat around thinking, "This is so not me! I'm just waisting the day! I'm skipping class and school work to be a deviant of New York...Brava Iguana, brava. You are allowed this."
I know it's not the way to do this, but I realize now that normal conventions can go to hell. Sure it's true I'm going through the first step: Denial. I admit that openly. If others can do it, then so can I. After ending this 48 hour excursion I realize that I can now safely return back to my normal life. I let myself have these 48 hours of absolute craziness, and I don't deny I may return to it from time to time. But I am a different person than I was two years ago, or a year ago for that matter. So I know I can allow myself into these views of life.
All day I sat around thinking, "This is so not me! I'm just waisting the day! I'm skipping class and school work to be a deviant of New York...Brava Iguana, brava. You are allowed this."
Friday, March 14
A Moment if you will...
I am going to be introspective. It's been in affect for the last 24 hours, starting with my visit with the Tall Man. He seemed to handle it well, but I felt I soured my mood of the night with constantly recollecting my life. We were sharing, ideas and stories, which is very nice. Due to recent events, being introspective has taken on a much stranger meaning for me. I feel myself getting tangled up and lost in my memories.
Moments that once seemed trivial suddenly weight the balance. Then I am wondering how I wasted those moments performing that task. Or I wonder why can't that feeling I had once, and taken for granted, return? The Tall Man says I have a a good voice for storytelling and that I am teaching him a whole world he doesn't know. My ramblings of theatre, actually interest someone to the point that they asked me to continue speaking? Yet, I withdrew in my mind feeling conscious of the assault & battery with my mouth.
I come to a moment where I think: Return back to your old ways and freak out over this...this nothing? Or try a different route. I shall take a route that I normally have looked over. I shall not pity myself for making a minor mistake. I will not recede back into the shell.
I am lost in a specific memory: I am 14. I remember visiting my grandparents in Florida. A small retirement village. Stationary motor homes, decorated as if families had lived in them for generations. I never felt so safe. I think of going out on the boat. I remember discovering Starlight Express and Sunset Blvd. For the first time. I remember sitting on the deck and reading Agatha Christie, just sitting for hours and reading. Breathing, letting the non-time pass on. Laying in it. Not thinking about the future, thinking about anything. Taking for granted what it's like to not think. At that time my future didn't matter because I was assured in one thing. That I would be in it.
Destiny and life didn't matter. Once again they were written out already. I just had to go along in my ways and it would all unfold. I remember riding out on that boat, watching the sun and feeling the stillness. Sitting with my Disc man on my lap. Listening to silence. The end would come, but like my life I somehow had skipped out on it. I was going to feel like this forever.
Then I leave the memory and return to now. And I'm overcome. I partially blame it on John Steinbeck. Which may seem absurd but you try going through life changing moments and reading East of Eden. Then tell me how you handle those moments, as you watch the entire history of a family pass through pages. It happens so quickly, but naturally we accept it. We accept the briefness of it all. When the characters skip ages, we allow it because that's how life goes. One moment we're 14 and the next we're 22.
Yet, that's only been 8 years! Hardly a decade yet! Though you, you have the nerve to be introspective? You pretend to think your life means something, not even a decade in. You have no legacy yet. You don't even have real memories yet. You have breezes, you have small drifts that come and go. If you're lost now people will not remember you. They will recall, but they won't feel it. They'll say I recall. Let's face it, even the sound of the two words has a distinctive difference.
So let the time pass, let it flow. I shall wade in it. I shall lap up the time and enjoy those moments of in taking. For it happens as quickly as you inhale, then finishes before the exhale. Then when I am without it, when it's moving to fast. I cannot stop to take a drink. I will go on, knowing it'll happen again.
Now I am drinking, I am guzzling. I have tasted life tinged with something else. And it's caused my mind to shift. It's the calm that has descended from the delirium or the shock. I am the lost tragedian, I've always played the sob song. So well that I begin to feel comfortable in a skin that I shouldn't. I rebelled and not only went the way they advised not to feel, but I preceded to live in it. I am capable of moments of happiness, but I feel that I'm more susceptible of the opposite.
Yet now I have decided to live against it. I have decided to be gracious! To enjoy the life that the world has given me. Which may be moments to late. On whose authority, I ask? Society? The moment I was born society was against me, this is just another battle of a larger war.
My body, that's so used to the sad state is reminding me. That's where this introspection comes from. It's the siren calling the ship back to the island. It's just set sail ladies, let us see where it ends up? Are we agreed? For however far this ship sails, if it's journey proves to be a disaster, the song will sound sweeter when we return.
Moments that once seemed trivial suddenly weight the balance. Then I am wondering how I wasted those moments performing that task. Or I wonder why can't that feeling I had once, and taken for granted, return? The Tall Man says I have a a good voice for storytelling and that I am teaching him a whole world he doesn't know. My ramblings of theatre, actually interest someone to the point that they asked me to continue speaking? Yet, I withdrew in my mind feeling conscious of the assault & battery with my mouth.
I come to a moment where I think: Return back to your old ways and freak out over this...this nothing? Or try a different route. I shall take a route that I normally have looked over. I shall not pity myself for making a minor mistake. I will not recede back into the shell.
I am lost in a specific memory: I am 14. I remember visiting my grandparents in Florida. A small retirement village. Stationary motor homes, decorated as if families had lived in them for generations. I never felt so safe. I think of going out on the boat. I remember discovering Starlight Express and Sunset Blvd. For the first time. I remember sitting on the deck and reading Agatha Christie, just sitting for hours and reading. Breathing, letting the non-time pass on. Laying in it. Not thinking about the future, thinking about anything. Taking for granted what it's like to not think. At that time my future didn't matter because I was assured in one thing. That I would be in it.
Destiny and life didn't matter. Once again they were written out already. I just had to go along in my ways and it would all unfold. I remember riding out on that boat, watching the sun and feeling the stillness. Sitting with my Disc man on my lap. Listening to silence. The end would come, but like my life I somehow had skipped out on it. I was going to feel like this forever.
Then I leave the memory and return to now. And I'm overcome. I partially blame it on John Steinbeck. Which may seem absurd but you try going through life changing moments and reading East of Eden. Then tell me how you handle those moments, as you watch the entire history of a family pass through pages. It happens so quickly, but naturally we accept it. We accept the briefness of it all. When the characters skip ages, we allow it because that's how life goes. One moment we're 14 and the next we're 22.
Yet, that's only been 8 years! Hardly a decade yet! Though you, you have the nerve to be introspective? You pretend to think your life means something, not even a decade in. You have no legacy yet. You don't even have real memories yet. You have breezes, you have small drifts that come and go. If you're lost now people will not remember you. They will recall, but they won't feel it. They'll say I recall. Let's face it, even the sound of the two words has a distinctive difference.
So let the time pass, let it flow. I shall wade in it. I shall lap up the time and enjoy those moments of in taking. For it happens as quickly as you inhale, then finishes before the exhale. Then when I am without it, when it's moving to fast. I cannot stop to take a drink. I will go on, knowing it'll happen again.
Now I am drinking, I am guzzling. I have tasted life tinged with something else. And it's caused my mind to shift. It's the calm that has descended from the delirium or the shock. I am the lost tragedian, I've always played the sob song. So well that I begin to feel comfortable in a skin that I shouldn't. I rebelled and not only went the way they advised not to feel, but I preceded to live in it. I am capable of moments of happiness, but I feel that I'm more susceptible of the opposite.
Yet now I have decided to live against it. I have decided to be gracious! To enjoy the life that the world has given me. Which may be moments to late. On whose authority, I ask? Society? The moment I was born society was against me, this is just another battle of a larger war.
My body, that's so used to the sad state is reminding me. That's where this introspection comes from. It's the siren calling the ship back to the island. It's just set sail ladies, let us see where it ends up? Are we agreed? For however far this ship sails, if it's journey proves to be a disaster, the song will sound sweeter when we return.
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