Even Nice Kids Can Be Dicks From Time To Time...

... yes, even me.  I know!  Stop gasping, you'll hyperventilate, pass out and hit your head on something.
I could not live with the guilt.
Back en pointe, like the pretty Black Swan I am...
I was excited, but scared, to go away to Boy Scout camp when I was 12.  How would I do it, not possessing the skillset to throw a ball, run, pretend to like sports, or poop in the woods?  Actually, to be fair, I did like pooping in the woods until the episode of Poison Ivy Penis visited my Netherlands.
But three weeks of forced swims, unfortunate softball, making of whistle lanyards and Tandy wallets, and hundreds of verses of "There's A Hole In The Bucket, Elijah" was a hard sell for me--other than the swimming, which I loved (even though your arms and legs would get tangled in green bottle brush type pond weeds and turtles would nip at your legs...), I was a defective boy.
God knows I had the intense desire to be good at ANY of those things, but it just wasn't in my DNA.  It woud have been like asking my mean counselor to recite lines from Man of La Mancha.  Wasn't gonna happen.
Slightly softening the horror of away camp was the fact that my best friend, Billy Cirilli--great name huh?--would be there with me.  He was a great boy at all things boy, and I by association, seemed like a normal enough kid to have around--just not someone you'd want on your team.  Ever.
The first week wasn't soooo bad, even though I missed my parents a lot, but I stiff upper lipped it.  Here, enjoy evidence of my state of mind:

Enter weeks two and three.
Hell.  Pure hell.  Some mean spirited, closeted counselor decided I must be gay since I sucked at baseball.  The torture began. Making me do jumping jacks by myself in front of 100 kids, which, in retrospect would have been fun to watch as I was approximately the shape of a polka dot.  Having to run with my arms over my head until I couldn't anymore, crying which seemed to be the funniest thing many people had ever seen.  Watching the counsellors eat my special lemon cookies my mom sent in a care package...
Pants being pulled down, being stared at going to the bathroom--it was like auditioning for the role of choir boy.
Around week one and a half, my spirit broke and my rage turned away from the tormentors and toward my parents.  THEY enlisted me in this hell, they drove me there, they didn't rescue me.
Well, I still felt it important to reach out to my family and thank them, let them know I was still alive.  Here's postcard two:

What a nice kid huh? I found these when my Mom was at home in the final stages in hospice and showed them to her, and she laughed until she wept.  So of course, I immediately framed them and put them up in her room. She woke up every morning with a grin and a chuckle--even in the final stages of a brutal cancer.
Thank God the humour nullified some of the angry brat and reminded one of the universal misery that we have all gone through at some point.  And brought moments of joyous reflection.
Camp seemed less awful in golden sepia memory.  That I liked.
That said, Counsellor Closet WAS a jerk and I hope he learned some compassion.  Or died a slow, firey, painful death.
Oops.  I thought I was better.
Oh well.
PS. It's cut off a bit, but there is a lovely 'PS I hate you' along the side.

Posted via email from hermesalchemist's posterous

An Overlong, Overdue Update I'd Be Honoured if You Read

Happy Yule, Belated Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Eid, Tihar, Diwali...well, let’s just clip it short there, lest we trod too politically correct a landscape. Let’s just say, “Happy Grateful and Warm Wishes for 2010.”

I’m just finishing up a whirlwind trip to Connecticut to spend Christmas with my fantastic family. Thanks, Scott and Jane, for getting me here and for making me feel special; and thanks, Carol Ann and Christopher, for making it seem like I hadn’t missed a day since I last saw you, even though your larger and more adult-like every day.

It’s strange to return to your roots when you’ve grown into such a different person than would be expected, as surprising to one’s self as to the extended circle. But I have grown so okay with how this irregular egg has hatched that I sit on this side of major transformation and think, ‘Wow! Didn’t see that coming...” More mostly bemused, rather than, “Why me?” or “Could we change that?”

I have this annoyingly persistent trait of being grateful even when things suck out loud. That doesn’t mean I don’t get frustrated or exhausted, or wonder “How many friggin’ legs does this millipede have and how many shoes are there left to still drop?”

The narrator in me finds it fascinating, and that is what spurs me on toward trying to figure out this strange saga of heart and guts and trying to be better- you know, ‘The Tale of Hermes Alchemist--aka The Journey of the Melancholy Optimist’. Or ‘A Connecticut Yankee in Hermes Trismegistus’ Court’. The Kindle I don’t own needs a reboot--not sure which is the correct title. You choose.

Anyway, blah blah blah, me me me...

So why am I updating? Well, many of you have been following my thread since India, and many have noted that I have been rather quiet of late. I’ve had a lot going on, the most recent of which included going on disability a month and a half go.

Why disability? After 13 years of strict compliance with HIV meds, I finally had to throw in the towel on a system that is so broken that it put me $35,000 in debt JUST MAINTAINING COBRA HEALTHCARE COVERAGE. No assets to show for the money, all strictly going toward my $900 a month co-pay during periods of lay off and draconian employment laws which make it optional for employers to provide health insurance.

With so much going toward the insurance, I couldn’t afford copays and deductibles, and couldn’t afford the quarterly $800 blood draws to prove I was positive in order to access services.

So I have been off meds for almost a year. I feel fine and oddly relaxed as the renegade, gone the crushing stress of trying to stay well under the unreasonable constraints of what profit driven healthcare considers wellness. That, and i kinda enjoy swinging from the Sword Of Damacles.

Why disability? Because what I was most lacking was balance. I being one of the rare breed who will pick up trash on a sidewalk as opposed to stepping over it, I try to make the world around me better. Pie eyed optimist, I.

I simply realized I needed to afford the care to my personal situation that I skillfully avoided for many years. You cannot take care of the world and not take care of yourself. For the first time in ages, if ever, I am taking care of me.

So how does that manifest?

I am going into debt consolidation next week. I want to be held accountable to what I spent, I just cannot pay it back at the rates that the banks want. After Wells Fargo screwed up my account and credit rating my APRs all jumped to around 32%. My bank account went to less than zero. and I was in a danger zone. Hopefully, my disability status combined with 25 + years of excellent credit rating and desire to pay my debt will work something out.

So how else?

I am starting running and cycling again. My passions for these activities have become strangers to me, so I want to warmly revisit these activities and make friends with them again.

And I have also signed up to do AIDS/LifeCycle 9, as I know how vital the services provided by the San Francisco AIDS Foundation are. First hand.
Alive because of them.

This is a soft approach at soliciting donations. If you’d like to get a donation in to this calendar year, then paste or click this link  http://www.tofighthiv.org/site/TR/AIDSLIFECYCLE9/AIDSLifeCycleCenter?px=1686962&pg=personal&fr_id=1210&et=aFZIWUDEAPp1h4LaR_dRLA..&s_tafId=1210

Alternately, you may search by my name or participant number at www.aidslifecycle.org.

Just to be a huge pain in the ass, if you were considering donating, I would love to ask that you think about splitting your donation between LifeCycle and the AIDS Emergency Fund. These outstanding angels are the only reason I am not homeless. They granted me my last month’s rent at a time when I had no money and no other resources. They also provide support for folks with Breast Cancer. Every penny counts.

AIDS Emergency Fund (www.aidsemergencyfund.org) has secure online donations here: https://www.givedirect.org/give/givefrm.asp?CID=1397.

I have to look at my current situation and think, “Well, at least I, with a legacy of communication, can translate how our incredibly broken system is failing the citizens of one the world’s greatest nations...” Hopefully, it will touch you and inspire you to act with compassion and empathy for all the amazing people that make up the human tapestry that is America. That which affects any of us affects all of us; All Are One.

Thanks for reading this overlong, overpersonal update from Hermes Alchemist. If you choose to donate, fantastic and I thank you. If you need to pass, and I certainly understand hard times, I’d ask that you consider volunteering or donating to a cause that resonates with you. If not us , who? If not now, when?

Oodles of warm, peaceful vibes for a 2010 with love, laughter, heart and connection.

Thanks for being connected to me.

Namaste
I honour the God In You.

PS- I’d love to have you join me on ALC! There are places for everyone!