Professional: Busybodies...

I don't like them.

These are the folks who can't "mind their own business" and often find various ways to affect yours.

For instance, B-Rad contacted his nurse manager regarding pharmacy orders that really didn't make a damn bit of difference. I spoke with him on the phone. Later I get an email about it from my boss.

So I confront him, respectfully and professionally and ask him never to do that again. Of course my direct and friendly approach scared the shit out of him, but in the end, I think I got my point across.

So what's wrong with someone constructively criticizing me? Nothing. But I have no tolerance for people who sit back and play "Monday Morning Quarterback" when there are those of us who are busting their ass to get stuff done. I would be much less angry and irritated with these types of people if they rolled up their sleeves and were truly team players...

But then they wouldn't have time to be busybodies...

Gay: Social Responsibility...

Being out is hard. It just is.

The first step of coming out to oneself is difficult enough in itself. Allowing yourself to be known as such is so definitive, so confining. I've always shined away from being "categorized" unless it had positive connotations.

But not being publicly out and active is slowly making me feel more uncomfortable with myself. I almost feel as if I am being untrue when I balk at going to functions or supporting my community in show of extraversion.

Each time that I reach out (or attempt to) I find that the lines of communication have grown cold. Old email sites, old listserves, outdated officers of organizations. Nothing seems alive. I would almost people take down these sites completely, so as not to raise false hope.

But this is my blessing and my curse. Something big will happen for me in these arenas someday and I should be patient.

For instance, I'm flying to D.C. for my first vacation in about 6 years or so...my goal is to see culture and immerse myself in diversity of food, folks, and thought. I have no intention on purposefully limiting myself to gayborhood but instead hope to simply enjoy my time there.

This followed by time in Dallas (which likely I won't seem much gay time) then San Francisco. Again, looking for love is not the goal; instead self improvement should be.

It's hard. Coming out is hard. Not being in a relationship is hard. But I have to remind myself: it's all worth it in the end. Don't settle. Explore. Enjoy. Grow. Breathe.

I dodged the HIV bullet at the 3 month mark; I don't intend to fool around with anyone until the 6 month mark to ensure things turn out okay. We'll see how well I do with purposeful abstinence. :)

Me: Hurtin'...

I don't know if its the return of the raging allergic rhinitis/pseudosinusitis that's making me ache all over or the crash from putting up a good show for my patients today, but I'm aching. My whole body is hurting, I'm coughing, snotting up a friggin' storm, can't smell much less breathe through my nose, it's cold, I'm bitter and lonely and self defeating and I just want to sleep.

So yeah, I need a vacation.

To make matters worse, I just got word that we're no longer in total control of my bereavement camp and to tell you the truth, I'm fighting mad! Absolutely furious! Once again, fate (the fickle bitch) rears her ugly head and says "for those without money, you will abide by those who do." In this instance, it's a multi-million (if not billion) dollar healthcare franchise who doesn't want to provide insurance coverage for a camp that they've commissioned for the last 10 years.

So now, another group has offered and they've put their point person in charge and let's just say, this is one doctor that doesn't do change.

Now comes the conversation: should I take my vacation day and truly do that: vacation? Or should I potentially spend a week and a shitload of money to be second guessed by someone I know with an odd-work ethic...

It's a clusterfuck.

And it makes the aching even worse...as I sit here and type, all hunched over and old, I wonder what's happening to me? What is it that makes me continue to fall into less than savory places? Sure, I know, it's the whole cursed fate mentality, but damn, if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and tastes like a duck, it ain't an ostrich.

Flonase. Aleve Cold and Sinus. Heat. Sleep. That's what I'll be up to tonight...