For those about to debate ...

Okay ... so I've been away for a few weeks. :-/ Quite a bit happening - Martian Death Flu (thankfully a flu shot kept it from getting *too bad* ... unfortunately, Kellie couldn't say the same and she was hit worse) struck, so there were a few days of feeling like hell.

In better news, I gave in and drank the Kool-Aid^TM, sold my soul to Santa and bought a Mac this week. Wow. The idea of spending as much as I did - and at one time - almost gave me a heart attack. But, in all honesty, I like it. It is so nice to have a computer that is one singular unit - not a hodge-podge of elements, a Franken-computer of sorts.


Also, I am going back to church. Yes, I know - I'd pretty much stopped going almost 2 years ago, but the entire time, I wanted to have some kind of spiritual basis. Whether it was through Christianity, Buddhism, Judaism, or even some other variation thereof. So, I have started going to MCC of San Francisco - a queer-friendly church, comprised of people from various religious backgrounds and ideologies. We all believe in something - or someone (or for some, nothing at all), and it's nice to have a spiritual home that feels friendly and welcoming towards everyone, regardless of who, or what, we are.


Finally, this is Kellie, Cleo and I having fun with the Photo Booth feature on my iMac. Obviously, Cleo could only be a good sport for so long...

I am home from my annual visit with the family ... and I have been for a couple of days now.

For some reason, I thought that if I waited a couple of days, to get over and process everything, it would be easier to deal with. Instead it's not.

It's so weird. I love my family because they're family. I can't stand my family because they're family. There were so many instances where my mom opened her mouth, and I had to bite my tongue, hard.

I guess I didn't realize how bigoted she could be, until the Christmas visit. I got to hear her go on about various families at church, and how they shelter their kids ... and how compared to them, she is a "cool mom", since she "listens to (her) daughter's music, listens to her daughter, etc." Then, she pretty much negates it by telling me a story of visiting my brother while he was still at school, and he'd mentioned his wanting to date a black girl (this was said sotto voce, of course...) - Mom said that she told him, "well, you know how I feel about that sort of thing..." {For the record, she'd never admit it, but inter-racial dating/marriage to her almost the same as inter-faith dating/marriage. It would just fuck up the kids for life, I guess.} As you can probably guess, he didn't date the girl.

In several other instances, anytime my mom would bring up African-Americans, they were referred to as "black people" and "black people" was always said in a whisper, as though she'd dropped an F-Bomb in polite company or something.


Then, there was her response to seeing a program about an MTF transsexual on TV - "That's disgusting". WOW. I guess that means that several people in my life - a co-worker's spouse; my sister (via her Family of Choice); the Safeway delivery woman ... are being written off as disgusting, because they don't fit into her mold of acceptability. What a shame....


And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, when I was being taken to the airport to go home, I heard about how my mom's best friend (someone that we call our "Aunt") was converting to Judaism, and because of this, she would "have to renounce Jesus ... and Heavenly Father won't recognize her when she dies." {Yeah ... take a minute to wrap your mind around that, and hold onto your seats, because it gets worse.} Apparently, upon getting this news, mom told her friend (of 30+ years) "While I don't agree with your decision..." As much as I'd love to think that she didn't actually *say this* - it wouldn't suprise me if she did.


So ... yeah. I apparently come from that gene pool. How the hell did that happen?

There's something weird about trying to find a new therapist ... especially since the last one I went to was successful at leaving me feel worse off than when I started.

I almost feel like I should be in a car lot, ready to kick tires or something, instead of looking through listings of therapists, trying to determine which Mystery Date will be the right one. Sure, they look great on-line, but then you meet them in person ... and it can go any possible way.

And it's especially awkward when you think about the fact that you're going to be spilling your guts to this person, just to get things out in the open, for however long it takes.

All I know is that I don't want someone affiliated with my (prior) faith. That was a disaster, to say the least. I don't want my insurance or any other third party involved. No financial threesomes - I'm paying for this on my own, which means that I can hire and fire with my checkbook (Hello Kitty checks and all). I'd want someone that will actually offer evening hours - nothing more awkward than trying to get time off work to go to the shrink.

Most importantly, I want a therapist that I can get along with. That I can be honest with. And when the time comes, s/he can let me go, without making me feel guilty about wanting to leave.


Of course, once I find that person, then I get to find a psychiatrist, to complement the shrink. Oh joy!

Okay - so my current prescription isn't up until next year, but I still get a bit antsy about wanting new glasses. And it doesn't stop me from looking at - and lusting after - frames that may (or may not) work for my face.

I've already tried these on:

Calvin Klein - I write bad poetry and listen to Dashboard Confessional. Love me. *smirk*

Vera Wang - I like them, but they almost feel "too hip" for me!

Modo - I liked these, but, in plum or brown ... even the red looked kind of cool. (But felt too "Sally Jessy Rafael" for me)


These looked cool - and I'd love to try them on at some point, to see if they'd work for me.

LaFont - Fusion - I love the shape ... rectangular, and still feminine.

LaFont - Gentiane - Just because.

LaFont - Ivorie - A little on the Enid in Ghost World side of life.

Kate Spade - Bianca - Pretty, and almost classic.

Kate Spade - Elyce - Probably not the right shape for my round face ... but a girl can dream, right?

Kate Spade - Margot - Just a bit on the emo-girl side, aren't they?

Okay - so maybe those weren't the exact words of the substitute Weight Watchers (WW) leader the other night, but it sure felt like it.

The meeting was a Back to Basics sort of thing, and when she (the Pod Person leader) got to the "Healthy Habits", boy howdy ... she was on a tear. Oh the fear-mongering and mis-information that left her mouth ... I kind of wonder if some of her weight loss involved brain cells.


Anyways, when the discussion came to getting the dairy, she suggested that people who have trouble digesting dairy (i.e.: lactose intolerant freaks, like me) should have an acidic environment in their stomach (from coffee or citrus fruit) before drinking milk. Meh?!? What about those of us that get to deal with reflux and need more acid like a hole in the head? Yeah ... I'll stick with LactAid.

Then, she moved onto calcium, and near the end of that spiel, she reminded us that if we didn't get enough calcium in our diets, we'd die. (This seemed to be the general theme from there on out.)

When it came to protein, she held up meat as The Best Way to get protein, and said that plant sources were one of the worst. Again ... Meh?!? And oh yeah, without protein, your teeth and hair will fall out ... and you'll die.


I left after that one. Now, I may be in the business of fear-mongering (or so Kellie likes to remind me) as an Insurance Geek, but I'd never go as far as the substitute did.

*whines* I want my leader, Jonathan, back! Enough of the scary Pod Person!

It's official. I'm old. Yes, today is my birthday - the big 32.

And depending upon when you ask - I either feel younger than I am, or feel about 700 years older than I am.

So, there's that. It's my birthday - I'm still around, just been busy.

I will write more later - but now, I'm going to bed.

Sometimes, the strangest thoughts pop into my head.

This week, I've been trying to figure this one out: Once upon a time, Dave Mustaine (Megadeth) was in Metallica, but was kicked out because of a drug problem. My question is this: how many drugs are *too many* drugs to a band that was once nicknamed "Alcoholica"?


That's all.

I think if you were to ask anyone that works in the insurance business if they wanted to be an insurance agent/underwriter/broker/whatever when they grew up - they'd laugh in your face.

Most of us had loftier aspirations - I'm sure a couple of us may have even been slightly delusional. We planned to be teachers, psychologists, businessowners, writers, homemakers - anything but insurance professionals. I'm sure that there are a few that wanted to be rock stars, professional athletes or movie stars ... only to have reality come around and crash the party. (We'd never be called "amateurs", because I don't think any of us truly love our work.)


I think that in many instances, Insurance is an "accidental" career (no pun intended, mind you). For some, it comes about from a Want Ad offering a Customer Service job with State Farm/Farmer's or some other company, where they hire in fresh meat, get it licensed, and lord that fact over its head for the next 3-5 years ... before working it into the ground, or kicking it to the curb, in favor of even fresher meat.

For others, its like being sucked into a vortex. You start out just working in the periphery of the business (as I did, for several years), even if you're in the mailroom all day or an assistant file clerk - then end up deciding to get licensed and join the ranks of the bordeline insane, simultaneously respected and reviled ... the Insurance Geek. You get to impress - and bore the hell out of - your friends with your knowledge.

And you can even incur the wrath of total strangers that were screwed over by some anonymous Middle Finger of Adam Smith at their insurance carrier, when they had the nerve to file a claim - "A claim! Isn't that what insurance is for? To protect you against this sort of thing? And not screw you over?!"

Yes, you get it all. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the uglier.

And no matter how many times you threaten to quit your job and become a professional misanthrope - you still go back to work, because for some odd reason, you actually like it. Besides, it beats being a psychologist any day - you can mock the clients, and they can't see it!

Yes, after a few days of phone tag between the doctor and I, the diagnosis has been handed down. It turns out that I do, in fact, have a surface tear of a superior tendon on my shoulder, along with swelling, and minor osteoarthritis.

The good news: no surgery. It was caught early enough, and is being treated before it could get worse.

The not so good news: I'll be getting stuck with a harpoon needle full of cortisone a cortisone shot in the shoulder, as well as probably going for physical therapy.


Oh yeah ... to make things *really* interesting, the orthopedist's name is Dr. Belzer. I'll have to resist the temptation to ask if he's related to Richard Belzer and/or tell him that I love Detective Munch's dry wit and rapport with Ice-T on Law And Order: SVU.