Sometimes Difficult...

 

Sometimes writing this blog can be difficult.  Finding topics can be challenging.  When I was 1st diagnosed, my situation wasn't that uncommon.  There were never a lot of things posted about rural states like Oklahoma.  But the pieces were more relatable.

Things changed & that's not longer true.  I'm not;  Black, Hispanic, trans, from another country or fringe group.  It seems that being an HIV+ gay man from rural Oklahoma is at the same time too unrelatable & mainstream.  

I can find articles about meds, policies & treatments.  But finding articles relevant to my situation is nearly impossible.  I found articles this morning over rural issues & HIV.  They all focus on Africa.  I can find things on gay men, but usually only closeted POC guys.   

In the beginning, I was seen as too liberal, fringe & weird by the majority of people on the right.  Now, I'm seen as too common, conservative & overshadowing by the far, fringe left.  Apparently, I'm doing something right, I've managed to piss off a lot of people.

HIV is a global issue.  But, this is blog has a tighter focus; my life.  If these articles bring nothing to my blog, then I won't bother.  Unfortunately, that often leaves me nothing to cover.  Other people will write about those issues, places & people ad nauseam.

Cya...

Goodbye August, Goodbye Me...

 

This is the last day of August & me for this year.  This is my final day being 54.  This was not a horrible month, but it wasn't a good August.  August should be bright, blazing, dry.  It should be the door closing on Summer.  These days, Summer's here  through most of September.  Labor day used to be the closing of the season party.  Now it's more like a warning that last call's coming soon.  August failed at being Augustic.

For my last birthday, we went to a restaurant we  hadn't been to before.   The food was good, but the atmosphere was weird.  It had nothing to do with the place, it was the effect COVID was having on everything.

I knew we wouldn't go see a movie, but I figured by the holidays things would open enough for that & my roomie's birthday.  My hopes were misplaced.  I knew  COVID was serious,  But  I didn't count on the raging stupidity of the American herd beast.  By October the numbers were soaring.  It meant we did nothing for  my roomie's birthday.  But at least by December there was word of a vaccine.  We signed up in 2020.  We had both doses by April Fools.

Yet, fooled was what we were.  By mid Summer the numbers plummeted & life tried to settle back into a normalcy.  That didn't last long.  Between Summer events, anti-vaxxers, the Delta Strain & school openings, numbers  are soaring  again.

Last year's me was hopeful, not so much this year.   I've spent a  lot of this year angry, stressed, resentful & wishing harm on everyone.  For at least today, I'm trying not to.  I'm trying to focus on this last day I share with August.

My birthday wish is for COVID to come to an end, however that may have to happen.  Line them up & vaccinate them like cattle.  Line them up & shoot them like a firing squad.  Dump them in the deepest parts of the oceans for fish food.  Just bring COVID to and end & don't replace it with something as bad or worse.

Happy last  day to August & me.

Cya...

PS - I get a telemedicine appointment for my Birthday, yay me.

It's Coming...

My birthday is just a few days away.  It usually doesn't go so well for me.   It's at an inopportune time.  The closing of Summer & the not quite start of Fall.  Labor Day Weekend & the 1st of the month.   Not good timing, but hey at least I would've made Hogwart's deadline.

I don't have a problem with my age.  I usually don't even think about it.  My problem is that I never think of myself as the age I am.   That's 1 of the many problems kids from seriously screwed up homes face.   When something mars a child physically or otherwise, part of them always lingers with you.   Each time it happens, more versions of yourself continue to walk beside you & sound off in your head.  

No matter how old you get, that earliest version of you, will always be the 1st & final thing you hear in your head when you face life.   I occasionally hear very young versions of me, but it's mostly about the time I was between 7 - 8.  When my parents' escapades became their most violent & they finally split.   There are a few versions of angry, teenage me's.  There are those in my college years trying to survive & the 1 when university was over & I had nothing.   There are a couple of older, more fuck-it-all versions & then 1 when I was at my sickest with HIV.   But, none of them are the person I see in the mirror.   I don't really know that version well, not always sure if I care to.

When people, especially kids, experience trauma, it scars them forever.   Maybe no one else can see the marks, but we can.  It's a playlist of flashbacks to the least favorite events in your life.   Your lowest, most horrible, possibly terrifying points.

I don't care that I'm turning 51, surprised, but not upset.   It just seems like that 8 year old has been here a long time looking for something.  I doubt we'll ever find it.   I think that kid was supposed to be somewhere else by now.   Maybe some place nice.  

Cya...