I’m not sure I trained enough for this particular marathon…

I love Christmas. And I have loved the Christmas-ness of this Christmas. Every night for the past week has been a joyous special thing that only the glittery soul of Christmas can create. My apartment is clean and sparkly with Christmas lights and candles and I’m hopeful that this little step of having a pleasing living space is a sign of more pleasing living to come.

Twice I visited my friends in the Christmas show I had been a part of for the 6 years prior. I miss it, and I miss them, but I guess it may be better in this season of change in my life to have had less of the running around that particular gig required. I needed the time. I mourn missing out on what was special there, in the same way I have mourned my leaving the Real Job– but I’ve been better for it, I’m sure.

I was part time through December 20th, and on that day a party was held in my honor. It was an odd collection of people but a very sweet little gathering that left me feeling cared for and more hopeful/less sad than I had expected. Not everything was done that needed to be done, so the loss was dulled by the fact that I still had my keys and a few files– it wasn’t like I wouldn’t be back. But I am coming to terms that I need to face this- finally, and really– and as I was driving around yesterday I found myself repeating aloud, “I don’t work there anymore. I don’t work there anymore…” My sleep has been filled with a sort of anxious self-loathing collection of dreams, in which I’m often late for appointments, unfairly accused of wrongdoing, and consumed with feelings of guilt. Apparently there is still shit to work out…

My week overall, however, as I mentioned before have been very special (if distracting,) and gratifying– but exhausting. An overview:

CHRISTMAS EVE

• I did my very gift bag/candy run and then saw the Christmas show. HIGHLIGHT: Playing Santa handing out candy to everyone and my friend C’s reaction to his Christmas present. LOWLIGHT: I miss them.
•  After a quick stop over at my parents’, I went to dinner with Soon- to- be- in- the- Navy-Cousin for Christmas Eve dinner, of which I only had time to eat a little bit before running off to be late for Church. HIGHLIGHT: Hanging out with Cousin. LOWLIGHT: There’s only so much I can take of one particular relative’s arrogant talk.
• Church. HIGHLIGHT: The music and candles made the rushing back worth it, and my Minister’s grabbing my arm on my way out to see if I was working and how I was made me feel noticed and cared for.
• Stopped back home and said hi to my landlord’s family, and then drove BACK to my parents, tossing presents under the tree and then sleeping in the guest bedroom upstairs. HIGHLIGHT:  Landlord’s son (who used to live in my apartment) was very impressed with my apartment, which I was so proud of . LOWLIGHT: I wanted to spend more time with them but it was hard not to feel like I was intruding on a family moment.

CHRISTMAS

• I got to sleep in and Sister, Brother-in-Law, and BestNieceEver showed up sometime in the early afternoon, better than last year. I got a cordless phone I’d been needing and knew I was getting. BestNieceEver wasn’t real interested in the whole sitting around opening presents thing but otherwise it was a fun time. My presents were well-received overall.  I had gotten BestNieceEver a magnadoodle and her first pair of jeans, both of which seemed to go over well. My dad seemed simultaneously mystified and impressed with his new iPod Shuffle and my mom has been reading the books I got her, so those seemed to have been a hit too. HIGHLIGHT: Playing Let’s-Throw-Wrapping-Paper-in-the-Air with BestNieceEver. LOWLIGHT: Brother-in-Law was freaking out about being late for the party with the other side of his family so he spent most of the time there looking at his watch.
• I headed back to my place in the evening and enjoyed a quiet night with my Landlords, exchanging presents and eating Christmas cookies. HIGHLIGHT: Peace and quiet.

FRIDAY

• Friday afternoon my friends J&J came over with their 3 kids and we had ice cream sundaes and played Apples to Apples. The kids seemed to enjoy the books I got for them but it was clear they weren’t as cool as the seven million other presents they’d gotten in the past few days. J&J are probably going to hate me for the Joke Book I got their middle child– she has taken to reading aloud from it nonstop and the jokes are, well, pretty bad. HIGHLIGHT: It was wonderful just to be with my friends.
• My parents came over later that evening before heading off to see the show I had gotten tickets for them to see, and then I was off to a Christmas party with the Christmas show people. HIGHLIGHT: My dad called me later just to say he loved the play. I rule!

SATURDAY

• The Big family party at my Dad’s Cousin’s house. HIGHLIGHT: BestNieceEver was the hit of the party. LOWLIGHT: My Great Uncle cried– he has lost 3 siblings and is so depressed… and no one really knew what to do.
• After I got back I turned around and went back out to see Urbanblight and some of our old friends from high school. HIGHLIGHT: It was great to talk to them. LOWLIGHT: I wanted more time, and one of our friends seems particularly depressed.

SUNDAY

• Sunday was my friends J&J’s daughter’s 13th birthday. HIGHLIGHT: The little time with them I had before running off to the next thing. LOWLIGHT: The holiday was really beginning to wear on my at this point.
• After that party I was off to a reunion of sorts for my high school at a local bar. HIGHLIGHT: Talking to people I really haven’t talked to for ten years. LOWLIGHT: Wishing my Life’s Transition wasn’t the main story I had to tell.

MONDAY

• Went back to the office and did a bunch of stuff I wasn’t paid for and won’t be sufficiently appreciated for. Cynical? Maybe. But it was my choice and I still feel if I hadn’t done it I’d be worried about those things.
• Sleep deprived and barely functional I did  something truly crazy. I had the kids I used to babysit– now 12 and 15!– to sleepover. We watched THREE episodes of Quantum Leap, played Scrabble and Apples to Apples, and I somehow managed to stay awake to just past midnight. HIGHLIGHT: They fell in love with my favorite TV show.

TODAY

• After the girls left I fell back asleep for several hours, despite really needing to tie up a bunch of loose ends at the (former) office of mine. OldBoss sent me an email officially announcing my Replacement, who had confidentially told me of their offer last week. Still sorting out how I feel about all that.
• Went off to a Holiday Dinner for a scholarship foundation that gave me an award in high school. HIGHLIGHT: Good food. LOWLIGHT: Not really having much to talk about to anyone, except the kid I used to babysit– who’s now more than a foot taller than me and in seminary school. I feel old.
• And now, back at my parents’, where BestNieceEver is sleeping over as well.

 

So yeah. Kinda tired. Somehow supposed to go to two parties TOMORROW too. We’ll see if the weather– and my stamina– cooperates.

Stage 3

I seriously just had an epiphany. This thing I’ve been doing? It’s bargaining.

And what will become of the NonProfits?

I am in my last “official” real weeks of being an employee of our favorite NonProfit, and the talk of the day is the economic mess. To be broke in a nonprofit isn’t really news, but what’s different is that the places out there– the For Profits and the Foundations– are all freaking out at once with financial woes of their own. Big news in our little circle is always whose gala had who at it and what auction items sold. Nonprofit groups host gala fundraisers with fancy food for exorbitantly priced tickets and then entertain their guests with silent auctions, live auctions, and (usually) a cash bar. Except who’s going to pay for $125-$200+ tickets these days? And no one can afford to spend money on an auction after they’ve put all that money down for a ticket, which basically just covers the chicken and the rented sound equipment.There are, of course, individuals who will pay exorbitant amounts of money out of loyalty to a particular cause, or in my observation, a particular individual who cares about a particular cause. Somehow spending money on an event seems to be a more personal way of supporting a friend than a straight donation to their organization. For instance, I have a friend who is Artistic Director of a theatre around here. They recently had a gala. It is unlikely, were I to receive an annual appeal letter in the mail, that I would write a couple hundred dollar check for this theatre (or honestly, any organization). But my buddy came to OUR gala last spring, and he’s really freaking awesome, and I actually do believe in the work he does– so I bought a ticket and attended, unable to bid much at all on auction items for fear I’d never make rent this month. It meant something to him, and I wanted to “help”– but I don’t think ultimately my type of loyal attendance-ship is what these type of events are really supposed to target. It would be better for me to send the $150 check directly and let them save the money on my pasta dinner…

These kinds of events are traditionally held together by corporate sponsors, who buy up tables and fill them with their employees and friends who happily consider getting drunk for a cause as a perk of their employment and bid up signed photographs of ball players “for the kids,” in many cases for organizations they have had little to no personal contact with themselves. But when times are tight– and scary– as they are now, the corporations don’t want to spend money on a party. They don’t have the ability to budget for additional charitable giving when they’re contemplating layoffs. So the funding stream runs dry here, as it already has in earned income categories as well as other kinds of foundation support.

So the question is, if the NonProfits’ business plans are all driven on the assumption that they will just get by (as many of them could only “just” do when times were supposedly good) through these types of funding that simply won’t be there now: what happens to all the social services they provide? What happens to the PEOPLE who depend on those services for support, enrichment, and basic livelihood?

But really, what can be done then?

The Year After College

Went back to see how far along I had gotten with my little Memory Game, figure I might as well get back into it.

After I got through my wonderously adventurous summer-after-college I was an overhire electrician for a couple of theatres and ran a sound board of sorts for a local regional theatre’s fall show. I took a couple of classes towards my teaching certification, partly because I knew I would eventually want it and knew it wasn’t going to get any easier to do so. As it ended up my grandmother passed away in December that year and in the end I never made up the credit lost on one of the two classes.

I had dreaded my grandmother’s funeral for a few years at that point, more so because it would force an encounter between my mother and my aunt than anything else. I remember my mother burst into tears when she saw the casket, and after a few moments of sobbing my aunt was pushing her along to admire some flowers in another room and I wanted to shake her and say “Just let her be SAD for a moment would you!!” It was the only sound given to real emotion in the entire time we were there. I left feeling sorry for my aunt and my uncles, and most of all for my mother– it must require so much discipline to hold so much in for so long. It was shortly after the Bush-Gore recount mess and it seemed that my uncles reveled in arguing with me about the NRA and the economy– maybe it took their mind off of it all.

I moved into my first apartment a a couple months later and I remember Professor’sFamily telling the Kids that I was moving out because I had to grow up. I cried the day I moved– not wanting to walk out of this chapter of my life and into the next. I really loved my apartment though– my own parking space, my own kitchen, organizing my things and putting my mark on the place. 5 years later I would struggle again in leaving and I guess that’s just what I’ve so often been about, coming into what’s Next with a lot of kicking and screaming, mourning my own growing up.

World AIDS Day today

A friend of mine did her undergraduate thesis project on AIDS. She found that a lot of people in our generation said that they “weren’t affected” by AIDS, and it was her position that this couldn’t possibly be true. The world was different with the advent of AIDS, and although I did not lose a loved one to AIDS, I feel like it was an issue in the background from a young age– a matter sometimes on the periphery but one that was not going to go away. It was a fact of the culture I grew up in, as much as the advent of personal computers were.

My suburban Midwest elementary school saw fit, in 1987 or 1988, when I was in 4th grade, to teach me about AIDS before they taught me about menstruation. It is an odd distinction, to be old enough for sex ed at just the moment when the first moments of sensible information about AIDS had filtered through to the school systems. My introduction to AIDS came in the form of a video with Dr. GoodBody, and I remember very little about it except that it emphasized that SOME PEOPLE think AIDS can be spread from kissing, sharing toothbrushes (ew!), and toilet seats but that those people are wrong. I think that the actual subject of sex was sort of skirted around in a general statement of “AIDS is spread through blood-to-blood contact.” This seems rather absurd to me now– attempting to discuss AIDS without mentioning sex at all– but this was in the days of Ryan White– and I wonder if there was a sense then that there could be more and more children with AIDS– hemophiliacs with tainted blood transfusions, children of IV drug users– entering the school system. This theory is supported by the number of TV shows I remember doing Ryan White shout-outs– a Mr. Belvedere episode about a child with hemophilia moving into town, and a family court show in which the controversey was over whether it was criminal for a child with AIDS to become “blood brothers” with his best friend. Yes, it’s clear that by the time I graduated elementary school I was after-school specialed out on this particular topic. While I  don’t think the word Gay was used in that Dr. GoodBody video, I vividly remember it was in one I had to watch in 7th grade, this time in a NorthEast urban and notoriously failing district. In the movie, two high school students enacted writing a report for school. As they try to choose a topic one says “We should do our project on AIDS,” and the other student says, “You mean, we should do our project on Gay people?” And from there the wiser student educates the other as to how misinformed she is. So I don’t think I was fully clear as to what Gay was, but I was assured (?) that it was stupid to think just gay people get AIDS.

It strkes me as interesting, that I was introduced to the misinformation WITH the factual information, at a time when I had no actual experience to draw on. Is that an effective deterrant to prejudice? Not sure. (As a parallel, I imagine there were social studies classrooms this fall where teachers said “SOME PEOPLE think Barack Obama is a muslim terrorist. But of course that is not true.” — Does the suggestion of the possibility contribute to the problem?) I would actually say that, if anything, this approach made me INtolerant of anyone who hadn’t had the benefit of the education I had had– I couldn’t understand the process by which views change and attitudes evolve.  It is indisputable that I had more information than had previously been available even a few years before, but I think it is a fair question as to what made this more significant than other basic sex ed lessons. And what was the result of this? Sex ed for me in later years would be more multiple choice exams, this time on the symptoms of chlamydia and syphillis– maybe these lessons helped one of my classmates, maybe they saved their lives. For me, my sense though is that this Sex Causes Diseases curricula I was exposed to did little but fuck me over a bit as I navigated my way through adolescence and beyond. I believe my basic conclusion by 7th grade was — now WHY would anyone want to have sex? The Bush Administration’s Abstinence Brigade would be proud.

What bothers me more though, is that whatever level of demystification all this “education” was intended to do, I was never introduced to a person with AIDS. I was never really encouraged to find a way to help those suffering or those caring for the suffering. My progressive school system found a a way to make sure I would not be afraid of catching AIDS from sitting next to someone on a bus, but it did not attempt to address the larger issues of a culture afraid of sickness, afraid of death and dying. I suppose this is why I didn’t know what hospice was until after college.

I wonder what AIDS Education in K-12 is like now. So many advances have been made in changing this from a disease people simly “die from” to one people “live with.” I imagine the tenor of the teaching must be different now that it is no longer a new problem. The urgency might not be there. I can’t imagine that a lack of urgency would make the disease and those affected by it less invisible. Perhaps with a more informed populace there is less of a perceived need to tell middle schoolers that SOME PEOPLE think hateful things that aren’t true. It’s hard to know.

I have known now about AIDS for 20 years. It has been with us for almost 30. May a cure be found soon.

On a Day After Thanksgiving Ten Years Ago Today

I was at a funeral I could never forget. Sitting in the surround-sound call-and-response of a Baptist church as the preacher talked about how God created them Male and Female, watching and hearing the outrage (and approval) around me, my head spinning- not fully able to comprehend what was happening. The preacher droned on, saying “and the Bible says…,” “because the Bible says…,” “remember the Bible says…,” — and I sobbed, embarrassed of my Christianity, angry to be part of a human race that could desecrate the dead, ashamed to be a witness my Dear Just-Turned-20-Year-Old friend be attacked even in death.

I remember seeing Urbanblight’s stone face in the back of the church as several people began walking out of what he would later describe as the most offensive thing he’d ever seen. I remember Uccellina somehow magically appearing next to me and somewhere in there after the fifteen thousandth chorus of “the Bible says” I reached out and found the Bible in front of me, running my hands through the pages until I found the sex laws in Leviticus and tore that thin paper out and found a tiny fraction of relief. In my grieving mind I could live with “the Bible says” being shouted ahead of me, so long as in my head I could reply “well THIS one Bible doesn’t.”

People often say they don’t remember their 21st birthday and the drunkness it often involves. But I remember that when I turned 21 a few months later, I realized it was a blessing he would not get. The finality hit home as I realized that to turn 21 was not a Given. I was blessed with these past ten years, and I’ve done my best with them. My Friend would have been 30 this past October, and I often wonder where his life would have taken him. I imagine it is hard the first time ANYONE goes to the funeral of a young person, particularly one who had been close. It was inconceiveable to imagine that someone so strong and healthy, someone who had been such a friend to me– could suddenly be gone.

But Friend’s passing left me with more than an increased sense of the Fragility of Life.  It changed me as a Person of Faith. Neutrality was no longer an option. I have tried to remember him well and to tell his story when it mattered most. It is in this way that I have come to some meager peace over such tragedy, to find some comfort that the tale of his passing could make a Difference, and that one day it would be unimaginable that such a thing might happen to another. May he, and the others whose tales are far too like his, rest in peace.

Moody Tonight

So my ear doesn’t hurt as much but I still have this weird sensation of being underwater when I talk. I’m coughing up my lungs less often– very much looking forward to being UnSick again. Workaholism and Depression probably get me sick more often than not, and they don’t interact well with sickness when it does arive. I get less done when I feel crummy, which then makes me feel more lousy, which then makes me push myself more, which then drags the physical-me down further. I’m not surprised I got sick, it’s a tradition of mine when I hit a particular marathon’s finish line (I bet a lot of you Theatre Folk out there caught a fever after Tech more than once…). It hasn’t really been the Finish though, its just been the Beginning of this strange period of having one foot still in the Job and one foot drawing away– working “part time,” at least on paper but not (yet) finding the consuming nature of the work lessening in my thoughts. It is almost as if, since I don’t have an obligation now to go into the office as much, I’ve been freed, paradoxically, to spend that “lost time” on the phone, on the internet, and wrapped up in paperwork in my pyjamas. I know this is not Not Working. And I know these habits are a cross between the Unreasonable Demands that Meant I Need to Leave in the first place and the Unreasonable Workaholism that Kept Me Here So Long.

I imagine to most of the people in my life, it must be pretty tiresome when I talk about where I’m at these days emotionally. I hum along fine and then suddenly it’s like tonight, where I’m back at square one, grieving this thing I’ve called My Job and trying to figure out what direction it is that I am to go in Next.

Today there was a meeting where a gathered committee discussed the various resumes that have come in and decide which are worthy for interview as my replacement. I wasn’t a part of the meeting, except to rudely interrupt with a question for my Boss as I was on my way out the door. But it scratched against me a little, the way fingernails scratch on a chalkboard, and I hadn’t expected it.

I’m trying to figure out why this all affects me so deeply. My Job made me feel special, it gave me purpose. It gave me something to do that I was uniquely able to do. I loved my Title, my Office, my System of White Binders on the shelf. I was in love with the potential my Job had, and enamored with the idea that I could Make It what I wished it could be. I wanted to redeem an Organization that had meant a great deal to me as a child. And when things fell down because there wasn’t enough funding, or staff, or lead time– I took it as a personal failure, thinking that if I had Just Worked Harder, if I hadn’t been So Tired, if I hadn’t let OldBoss get me down, and if I could Just Be Patient… it would be different.

In a way, I grew accustomed to whining while in this position, a tradition carried over from my time working for the StageMotherSchool. Whining is usually about being Righteously Annoyed, not Angry really. I was surrounded so often by behavior and situations that others might have gotten Angry about. But I never really owned Anger here. I couldn’t be angry in the disgusted way outsiders who came along were. I loved this Place so much. And I had worked so much to make It better– to be disgusted with It was to be disgusted with myself. So I would whine, to those few who both listened well and every now and then add fuel to my whining– it got that frustrated energy released, my ego massaged, my view of events affirmed. Of course it got old to listen to sometimes, and even the most patient in my life would wander into the “So Why Are You There?!” territory and I’d scuttle away emotionally– knowing I had complained a few moments too long. It was okay if I was the noble victim, if I could garner sympathy and support for my mistreatments and still go back in to work the next day. But I couldn’t handle the implication that I was pathetic, attaching myself to a situation that a grown up would– should– walk away from.

It is this that I was afraid of. This sense of What The Hell Am I Doing. Who Am I if not this Title. More than that even– Who Am I If Not The Saving of This Place.

Maybe I’ll find Somewhere Else to Save. Maybe I’ll be Special in a million new ways to come. Maybe there will be Someone To Come holding my hand, and I’ll realize I never could have given to them or gotten from them if I hadn’t taken this step. Maybe I’ll find a way to value myself highly with or without a current Great Project. It’s scary to step out into a whole lot of Maybes. I guess the one thing the Whirlwind of my Job always had was that– the Constancy of that Whirlwind could always be counted on. When the Whirlwind stops suddenly there is a whole lot of empty space for thinking about the things that make me feel inadequate, the finances I’m not sure I will conquer, the strains within the love I have for my family. Sometimes I have more pain in me than I would like to acknowledge.

Bleh

I have bilateral ear infections mixed with a bad cold. The antibiotics don’t appear to have kicked in yet. I should be asleep, work early in the morning tomorrow. I think I’ve moved a step in this long-strange-grieving process over the Job. Tomorrow… er today… marks the end of a whole week as a “part time” employee, which was my offer to Job– I gave my notice but would stay on part time for a short period of time to help with the transition, train someone new, etc…

Already there are a thousand opportunities to stay “involved,” and they are tempting. This Job has a hold on me. The many rational people in my life hope for a clean break. I guess… I just don’t know for sure how I manage  without this Job as a part of my life. I have a hard time letting go of the things I put my sweat into.

Proud of America tonight

That’s all there really is to say. Except that my most excited moment tonight was finding out that Ohio went to Obama. I wasn’t sure it was possible, what with it being ground central for voter suppression and the home state of my (beloved but) hopelessly rightwing Uncles (the ones who think Bush isn’t conservative enough)– driving around Dayton back in 2000 when my grandmother passed away (in the middle of the whole recount mess) was a sea of Bush-Cheney lawn signs. Having lived out the majority of my elementary school years in Ohio, it holds a special place in my heart. I’m proud of Ohio tonight, and I’m hopeful for the future of this country.

Maybe the novelty will wear off soon and my optimism fade, but when the impossible becomes not only possible but actual– one has to stand back and honor the miracle before us.

There’s a going to be a grown up leading the country now. Talk about novel.

I Donated to Barack Obama’s Campaign Tonight

I don’t know what Obama is going to do with $30 hours before the election. But I hope that somehow that money will do its small best to counteract this insane anti-democracy voter disenfranchisement that is being attempted throughout the country. I don’t care who people are voting for (honestly!)– but it sickens me that anyone could have their right to vote threatened. As someone who grew up in Ohio and whose beloved (yet rightwing) uncles live in that state, I’ve been especially interested in the news on that front there. I’m a little afraid to hope for what I hope for for tomorrow. But most of all, on the outside chance it doesn’t go the way I want it to, I really don’t want it to be because registered voters were turned away at the polls, ballots were thrown out, and poor people convinced it would be too hard to vote.  It’s an honor and privilege that shouldn’t be tampered with.

SO GO VOTE PEOPLE!