Oy, have my Halloween costume all ready... except one piece... and I'm such a perfectionist when it comes to things like that. I don't want to leave the house because it's not DONE.
Trying to improvise. Something close, but not quite there.
---
EDIT:
Improv is good. I won a costume contest tonight for my turn as the Joker, as played by Heath Ledger.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
nightmares
I've been having both figurative and literal nightmares over the past few weeks.
Literal nightmares... some psychologists say that dreams, both good and bad, are a way of your subconscious reconciling the days events and stray thoughts over night to give you a clean slate the following day. After a building birthday party (one of my neighbors just hit 40), I crawled into bed and dozed off. I dreamed I was walking around my neighborhood, and discovered that the people living three doors down from me had a swimming pool. It was brilliantly exciting, since I'd spent the whole summer looking for friends with pools (I didn't do that in real life, it was just the way the thing went).
While giddily imagining the fun that could be had right here in my neighborhood, I got a phone call from the police. I was advised to come home immediately. I walked up the street to my building, completely destroyed. A semi-truck had plowed through the fence that separates us from the highway, plowed into the side, and caused the building to collapse. Everything was destroyed... and worse yet, two of my neighbors were home and had been killed -- but not identified. Worse still, no one answered their phone when I called. It was all very tightly wound suspense until... I woke up. Four walls still around me. Cat snuggled on my arm. People still alive. And a sickening feeling of dread and horror still lodged in my stomach.
Stray thoughts, stray thoughts. Since I'd been hanging out with my neighbors one of the things that came up was when we had the truck crash into the building a few months ago. Required some extensive repairs, but the building remained in tact and not structurally damaged. We talked about roof issues and whatever else. I don't think it meant anything, just that it congealed in a dreadful way.
The figurative nightmares? Work, for one. The new location is ... for lack of a better word... a shithole. The staff is lazy, listless, and untrained. NOTHING was being done properly. Members are generally pretty rude, though that may have a lot to do with the unconcerned treatment they received from the staff for the past several years. I've spent two weeks in quiet observation, trying to fix quietly as things went horribly wrong, though I broke yesterday after a poorly communicated and planned event (how poorly communicated and planned? I didn't know it was happening until 300 people showed up at the door) collided with an injury. There's so much common sense stuff that isn't getting done and I have to wonder if it's worth trying to teach common sense... or to just wipe the slate clean and start again with people who *get* it. It's not soley my decision, of course, which is probably a good thing. I can be a little rash when it comes to stuff like this.
And healthwise... I'm just feeling a bit off. A scratchy throat here... a little arm pain there... but I'm still not smoking. Maybe it's just part of my equilibrium being thrown off by quitting that I'll just have to readjust to. Meanwhile, I'm catching every bit of sleep I can and trying desperately to leave work at work to reduce stress. Easier said than done.
Literal nightmares... some psychologists say that dreams, both good and bad, are a way of your subconscious reconciling the days events and stray thoughts over night to give you a clean slate the following day. After a building birthday party (one of my neighbors just hit 40), I crawled into bed and dozed off. I dreamed I was walking around my neighborhood, and discovered that the people living three doors down from me had a swimming pool. It was brilliantly exciting, since I'd spent the whole summer looking for friends with pools (I didn't do that in real life, it was just the way the thing went).
While giddily imagining the fun that could be had right here in my neighborhood, I got a phone call from the police. I was advised to come home immediately. I walked up the street to my building, completely destroyed. A semi-truck had plowed through the fence that separates us from the highway, plowed into the side, and caused the building to collapse. Everything was destroyed... and worse yet, two of my neighbors were home and had been killed -- but not identified. Worse still, no one answered their phone when I called. It was all very tightly wound suspense until... I woke up. Four walls still around me. Cat snuggled on my arm. People still alive. And a sickening feeling of dread and horror still lodged in my stomach.
Stray thoughts, stray thoughts. Since I'd been hanging out with my neighbors one of the things that came up was when we had the truck crash into the building a few months ago. Required some extensive repairs, but the building remained in tact and not structurally damaged. We talked about roof issues and whatever else. I don't think it meant anything, just that it congealed in a dreadful way.
The figurative nightmares? Work, for one. The new location is ... for lack of a better word... a shithole. The staff is lazy, listless, and untrained. NOTHING was being done properly. Members are generally pretty rude, though that may have a lot to do with the unconcerned treatment they received from the staff for the past several years. I've spent two weeks in quiet observation, trying to fix quietly as things went horribly wrong, though I broke yesterday after a poorly communicated and planned event (how poorly communicated and planned? I didn't know it was happening until 300 people showed up at the door) collided with an injury. There's so much common sense stuff that isn't getting done and I have to wonder if it's worth trying to teach common sense... or to just wipe the slate clean and start again with people who *get* it. It's not soley my decision, of course, which is probably a good thing. I can be a little rash when it comes to stuff like this.
And healthwise... I'm just feeling a bit off. A scratchy throat here... a little arm pain there... but I'm still not smoking. Maybe it's just part of my equilibrium being thrown off by quitting that I'll just have to readjust to. Meanwhile, I'm catching every bit of sleep I can and trying desperately to leave work at work to reduce stress. Easier said than done.
Monday, October 13, 2008
distraction
I started at the new location today. And it's not quite as dismal as I thought it might be. I still have my work cut out for me, but the slash and burn technique won't have to be applied, which is what I thought would probably have to take place. Instead, I have a very moldable crew that has just suffered with a lack of direction. I started giving guidance and they blossomed immediately. This is going to be tough, but it's going to work.
But for all the good that came out today... I'm distracted. Not worried, or sad, or downtrodden... just a little thrown.
I went to my ID doctor today. My CD4 was at 356 on the last draw about three months ago. It was a precipitous drop from the draw before that, after holding steady at 435-440 for the last three visits. Meds are suggested at the threshold of 350.
But then it gets weird. My viral load took an even MORE precipitous drop... which is good. So one test was bad news, the other test was GREAT news. There's some room for wild fluctuation, it appears. Doc said that she wasn't putting me on meds yet. What's more important, she continued, was trends. This was an out of ordinary drop. If the next tests come back holding steady at the same rate, meds may be considered -- but it's more likely that my CD4 might notch back up and recover -- maybe not fully, but at least a little -- and that my low viral load was just an incredible fluke.
But... meds. For the rest of life. And while many I've talked to say it has vastly improved their quality of life... I'm kind of scared. Once you're on meds, it's kind of a point of no return, particularly with insurance. They are life savers, yes -- but then my continuing health also relies on them fully once I'm put on a regimen. Removing them from the equation... well, I'm not even *on* them yet, so perhaps this isn't something to write about now.
Ever thinking ahead, though -- this is the reason why health care reform is a major driving factor in the choices I make this election year. Say what you will about universal health care, but Great Britain has offered free HAART [Highly Active Antiretroviral Therapy] to all people legally in their country since 2004. In the US, an uninsured person could pay upwards of $1,000 monthly. It's enough for me to give a reconsideration to pursuing dual citizenship, for which I am eligible.
But for all the good that came out today... I'm distracted. Not worried, or sad, or downtrodden... just a little thrown.
I went to my ID doctor today. My CD4 was at 356 on the last draw about three months ago. It was a precipitous drop from the draw before that, after holding steady at 435-440 for the last three visits. Meds are suggested at the threshold of 350.
But then it gets weird. My viral load took an even MORE precipitous drop... which is good. So one test was bad news, the other test was GREAT news. There's some room for wild fluctuation, it appears. Doc said that she wasn't putting me on meds yet. What's more important, she continued, was trends. This was an out of ordinary drop. If the next tests come back holding steady at the same rate, meds may be considered -- but it's more likely that my CD4 might notch back up and recover -- maybe not fully, but at least a little -- and that my low viral load was just an incredible fluke.
But... meds. For the rest of life. And while many I've talked to say it has vastly improved their quality of life... I'm kind of scared. Once you're on meds, it's kind of a point of no return, particularly with insurance. They are life savers, yes -- but then my continuing health also relies on them fully once I'm put on a regimen. Removing them from the equation... well, I'm not even *on* them yet, so perhaps this isn't something to write about now.
Ever thinking ahead, though -- this is the reason why health care reform is a major driving factor in the choices I make this election year. Say what you will about universal health care, but Great Britain has offered free HAART [Highly Active Antiretroviral Therapy] to all people legally in their country since 2004. In the US, an uninsured person could pay upwards of $1,000 monthly. It's enough for me to give a reconsideration to pursuing dual citizenship, for which I am eligible.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
in and out of the fire
Week one of Chantix is almost complete, and I've gotta say -- the stuff is amazing. It works by shutting off your nicotine receptors, so whatever emotional or mental connection you have to the cigarettes is essentially blocked. I was instructed to continue smoking for the first week to transition off, but I've found that as each day passes, I've smoked less and less. I'd generally go through three or four packs a week, this week I haven't even gotten through my second. Tomorrow is the last day, at which point I go on a maintenance dosage of Chantix and cut the cigs entirely.
Had a dentist appointment today, and things are looking good. As Mitch Hedberg once said, it's as hard to start flossing as it is to stop smoking...and I'm trying to do both at once.
Oh, and I'm moving to a new location for work on Monday. It's a lateral move, same position, but slightly better pay. And a bigger challenge. I can definitely use the extra change in my pocket -- everything costs more these days but I haven't had a raise in a year and a half. This assignment is not going to be easy, though. I'm very apprehensive about the situation I'm walking into but there's some solid foundation that's already been laid. It'll be nice to not have to walk in and fix EVERYTHING. I'm excited for the change of scenery... easier commute, better schedule, and a bigger paycheck, in exchange for some added stress.
In general, I just feel better. I feel healthier and more optimistic. Historically, the moment I say that is the moment something drastic happens. Let's hope this is the exception.
--
And just a quick coda here, since I occasionally talk politics... I think John McCain (or at least his subordinates) may have just lost the race this week. Between the debate, where he came off petty and insolent, the innuendos being pitched out by his staffers, and recent rallies that look more like angry mobs... and you must admit, love him or hate him, that Obama has been able to stay on-message. He's connected with the general public the same way Bill Clinton did, and as evidenced by his debate performance -- finally learned how to survive without a teleprompter. (Gee, that only took twenty months.) It's sad to see this -- the John McCain of the 2000 campaign was an impressive figure, 2008 John McCain is a embittered shell of that fiery workhorse.
Had a dentist appointment today, and things are looking good. As Mitch Hedberg once said, it's as hard to start flossing as it is to stop smoking...and I'm trying to do both at once.
Oh, and I'm moving to a new location for work on Monday. It's a lateral move, same position, but slightly better pay. And a bigger challenge. I can definitely use the extra change in my pocket -- everything costs more these days but I haven't had a raise in a year and a half. This assignment is not going to be easy, though. I'm very apprehensive about the situation I'm walking into but there's some solid foundation that's already been laid. It'll be nice to not have to walk in and fix EVERYTHING. I'm excited for the change of scenery... easier commute, better schedule, and a bigger paycheck, in exchange for some added stress.
In general, I just feel better. I feel healthier and more optimistic. Historically, the moment I say that is the moment something drastic happens. Let's hope this is the exception.
--
And just a quick coda here, since I occasionally talk politics... I think John McCain (or at least his subordinates) may have just lost the race this week. Between the debate, where he came off petty and insolent, the innuendos being pitched out by his staffers, and recent rallies that look more like angry mobs... and you must admit, love him or hate him, that Obama has been able to stay on-message. He's connected with the general public the same way Bill Clinton did, and as evidenced by his debate performance -- finally learned how to survive without a teleprompter. (Gee, that only took twenty months.) It's sad to see this -- the John McCain of the 2000 campaign was an impressive figure, 2008 John McCain is a embittered shell of that fiery workhorse.
Friday, October 3, 2008
the struggle
A few months ago I wrote about my diagnosis and taking ownership of life. At that moment in time, it was words on a screen, and it remained that way for a while.
I haven't always been completely honest about this process. I'll say I'm fine, everything's cool, no problems, but mentally, I'm a mess. I have always been a do-it-yourself kind of guy, and I hate having to reach out for help or admitting I'm in over my head. And most of the time, I've been able to pull myself out of whatever mess I fall into. But occasionally, life gets bigger than myself and I really don't have a choice.
For the past ten months, I've lived pretty much in seclusion. I'd wake up, go to work, come home, lock myself in my room for three hours and go to sleep, and repeat the whole routine again the next day, only deviating on rare occasions. And for a time, it was what I needed -- time to be still, peaceful, and to reflect. I was still able to put on the face of 'nothing's wrong' at work and in general. As the months trudged on, though, it became less reflective and more hiding away.
My roommate, God love him, has been noticing this and has recently been making a point to needle me about it whenever I'm out and about with him. I was chastised several times around my friends while we were in NYC about it. He's worried about me, and my friends took the hint and started needling me about it too.
I started smoking again. In the absence of harder drugs or alcoholism or anything else, it kept me calm and helped maintain that mask and gave me something else to escape into, as stupid as that sounds.
For some reason today, I woke up and decided it was time to do something about it. My GP (who I used to hate, but I'm coming to appreciate more and more) took me in on a walk-in. We talked about a couple of things; he took some bloodwork, gave me a flu shot, and wrote out a prescription for Chantix, a smoking cessation aid. My cholesterol came back right away, and apparently I'm in terrific condition on that front. "You'll live 'til you're 100 if you keep this up," he told me. My HDL is a little low for his liking and suggested I start taking niacin to get that back up.
I got on the phone with my insurance company to see if Chantix was covered, and to inquire about mental health benefits. I've decided it's time to start working from a clean slate, and to do that I have to get around this roadblock in my head I'm stuck behind. She sent me a list of providers and broke the bad news that Chantix wasn't covered. That's OK. It's worth the extra expense in the long run. I got the prescription filled.
There's a lot of money pouring out of me for this stuff -- after my apicoectomy a few months ago I've been on a pretty tough regimen of dental care, too -- but with my birthday a scant two months away, I think it's worth it. On the slide to 30, I realize I need to start taking these steps now so I won't have to deal with something much worse in a few years.
I can't really say where all this is heading, since I don't really know yet. After mostly surviving NYC for nearly ten years, though, I have to say I'm thrown that I let Atlanta get the better of me sometimes. If the mortgage crisis has taught us anything, though, it's that ownership is best taken in small steps. Don't try to grab on to something bigger than you can handle, or you'll wind up on your ass. It's a tortured metaphor, I know, but I think it applies.
I haven't always been completely honest about this process. I'll say I'm fine, everything's cool, no problems, but mentally, I'm a mess. I have always been a do-it-yourself kind of guy, and I hate having to reach out for help or admitting I'm in over my head. And most of the time, I've been able to pull myself out of whatever mess I fall into. But occasionally, life gets bigger than myself and I really don't have a choice.
For the past ten months, I've lived pretty much in seclusion. I'd wake up, go to work, come home, lock myself in my room for three hours and go to sleep, and repeat the whole routine again the next day, only deviating on rare occasions. And for a time, it was what I needed -- time to be still, peaceful, and to reflect. I was still able to put on the face of 'nothing's wrong' at work and in general. As the months trudged on, though, it became less reflective and more hiding away.
My roommate, God love him, has been noticing this and has recently been making a point to needle me about it whenever I'm out and about with him. I was chastised several times around my friends while we were in NYC about it. He's worried about me, and my friends took the hint and started needling me about it too.
I started smoking again. In the absence of harder drugs or alcoholism or anything else, it kept me calm and helped maintain that mask and gave me something else to escape into, as stupid as that sounds.
For some reason today, I woke up and decided it was time to do something about it. My GP (who I used to hate, but I'm coming to appreciate more and more) took me in on a walk-in. We talked about a couple of things; he took some bloodwork, gave me a flu shot, and wrote out a prescription for Chantix, a smoking cessation aid. My cholesterol came back right away, and apparently I'm in terrific condition on that front. "You'll live 'til you're 100 if you keep this up," he told me. My HDL is a little low for his liking and suggested I start taking niacin to get that back up.
I got on the phone with my insurance company to see if Chantix was covered, and to inquire about mental health benefits. I've decided it's time to start working from a clean slate, and to do that I have to get around this roadblock in my head I'm stuck behind. She sent me a list of providers and broke the bad news that Chantix wasn't covered. That's OK. It's worth the extra expense in the long run. I got the prescription filled.
There's a lot of money pouring out of me for this stuff -- after my apicoectomy a few months ago I've been on a pretty tough regimen of dental care, too -- but with my birthday a scant two months away, I think it's worth it. On the slide to 30, I realize I need to start taking these steps now so I won't have to deal with something much worse in a few years.
I can't really say where all this is heading, since I don't really know yet. After mostly surviving NYC for nearly ten years, though, I have to say I'm thrown that I let Atlanta get the better of me sometimes. If the mortgage crisis has taught us anything, though, it's that ownership is best taken in small steps. Don't try to grab on to something bigger than you can handle, or you'll wind up on your ass. It's a tortured metaphor, I know, but I think it applies.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
back in it
NYC was a lot of fun, though my travel companions suffered through one snafu after another. I flew up on Thursday afternoon, with a one hour delay. My roommate and the flight attendant were to join me on Friday. FA got to the airport Friday AM to discover his badge had expired, and could not work or fly that day. Roommate could still fly, but no longer had accommodations in NYC... which is where being well connected in the city is very helpful. My friend I was staying with works at a new hotel on the Lower East Side, and wrangled him a last minute friends and family rate, which was much cheaper and nicer than anything he could have ever gotten otherwise. The trip was saved, and roommate made it up without too many hitches.
I landed and made my way to N's apartment. After relaxing for an hour or so, I booked it down to Times Square to pick up tickets for 13, a new show made up entirely of 13 year old kids... seriously. Entire cast, and the entire band (except one). An interesting approach, and a creative risk that doesn't pay back in full, but makes for a fun night.
Second day, saw [title of show], which was cute and very funny... if a little in-jokey. How in-jokey? Here's Where I Belong got namechecked. I was one of three people who caught the reference and laughed. (HWIB is the only musical my actor grandfather ever did on Broadway... a massive flop that closed after one performance.)
That night, roommate arrived, and N and I took him out for beverages on the town. I got to introduce him to a few friends and take him around to a couple of my old and new haunts. A lot of people who didn't really understand why or how I fit in NYC so well get it when they're actually there with me, and roommate was no exception. Quoth roommate: "This is the most I've seen you out and about in a year!"
Saturday we wandered about the city a bit, showing him the sights as much as possible within the confines of his mission: Shopping on 5th Avenue. We shopped, I pointed, and it made for a good day. We crossed Central Park by way of Strawberry Fields on our way to Lincoln Center, where I once worked, and my dear friend G had cocktails ready and waiting for us. Then, back to the hotel to get roommate loaded into a cab and back out to the airport. And me back to the Bronx to get changed and head down to... ech... Staten Island ... for a concert version of On The Town.
I've never been a huge fan of the big jazz hands, ham-fisted presentational style of a lot of older musicals. My friend who directed this tried his best to avoid that as much as possible, but the material itself seems to write a lot of it in. It was a pleasant night with some really good performances.
Sunday was my day to fly out after brunch with G. Well, I thought it was. I got to the airport to discover the flight prior to mine had been delayed three times... to the point it was departing AFTER mine, which hadn't been delayed at all. I saw the cards lying on the table and started making other plans. Sure enough, my flight delayed too late for me to be able to get home from the airport... and then the first flight was ultimately cancelled, and all its passengers ultimately rebooked for my flight instead. I was bumped before I ever got on the plane, since I was flying standby. I called the airline and rebooked for the following morning. Trucked it back out to the Bronx, where I watched some TV, ruminated on the annoyance of a largely wasted day in NYC, and fell asleep. I flew out the next morning, and landed without a hitch.
Today, my friend pops into ATL for a visit from Memphis. I have about six hours worth of cleaning to do and only three hours in which to do it. Doh!
I landed and made my way to N's apartment. After relaxing for an hour or so, I booked it down to Times Square to pick up tickets for 13, a new show made up entirely of 13 year old kids... seriously. Entire cast, and the entire band (except one). An interesting approach, and a creative risk that doesn't pay back in full, but makes for a fun night.
Second day, saw [title of show], which was cute and very funny... if a little in-jokey. How in-jokey? Here's Where I Belong got namechecked. I was one of three people who caught the reference and laughed. (HWIB is the only musical my actor grandfather ever did on Broadway... a massive flop that closed after one performance.)
That night, roommate arrived, and N and I took him out for beverages on the town. I got to introduce him to a few friends and take him around to a couple of my old and new haunts. A lot of people who didn't really understand why or how I fit in NYC so well get it when they're actually there with me, and roommate was no exception. Quoth roommate: "This is the most I've seen you out and about in a year!"
Saturday we wandered about the city a bit, showing him the sights as much as possible within the confines of his mission: Shopping on 5th Avenue. We shopped, I pointed, and it made for a good day. We crossed Central Park by way of Strawberry Fields on our way to Lincoln Center, where I once worked, and my dear friend G had cocktails ready and waiting for us. Then, back to the hotel to get roommate loaded into a cab and back out to the airport. And me back to the Bronx to get changed and head down to... ech... Staten Island ... for a concert version of On The Town.
I've never been a huge fan of the big jazz hands, ham-fisted presentational style of a lot of older musicals. My friend who directed this tried his best to avoid that as much as possible, but the material itself seems to write a lot of it in. It was a pleasant night with some really good performances.
Sunday was my day to fly out after brunch with G. Well, I thought it was. I got to the airport to discover the flight prior to mine had been delayed three times... to the point it was departing AFTER mine, which hadn't been delayed at all. I saw the cards lying on the table and started making other plans. Sure enough, my flight delayed too late for me to be able to get home from the airport... and then the first flight was ultimately cancelled, and all its passengers ultimately rebooked for my flight instead. I was bumped before I ever got on the plane, since I was flying standby. I called the airline and rebooked for the following morning. Trucked it back out to the Bronx, where I watched some TV, ruminated on the annoyance of a largely wasted day in NYC, and fell asleep. I flew out the next morning, and landed without a hitch.
Today, my friend pops into ATL for a visit from Memphis. I have about six hours worth of cleaning to do and only three hours in which to do it. Doh!
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