Workers of the World

2011-01-15T17:23:00.001-05:00

This video is just brilliant. The language is pretty foul, so be ready, but it is well worth the watch.

It Gets Better.

2010-10-02T18:31:00.011-04:00

I am heartbroken every time I hear of another child taking their life because they were bullied for being different. I like to hope that the world is constantly spinning forward, becoming a kinder, more compassionate, more tolerant place, but I know that this isn't true. I have known too many people who have lived in despair because of their sexuality and what they have been led to believe it means for their life and soul. I have lost a sweet friend to suicide because he had no hope for the lifting of this despair. So yes, I know my hope is only that.

I was listening to Dan Savage's podcast yesterday, and heard about a project that he has started, encouraging GLBT adults to make videos posted on YouTube for the viewing of gay teenagers who may be in despair due to bullying or bigoted actions of others in their community. The theme is simple. It gets better. This point that you are at right now, where you feel so alone and so hopeless for the future, is likely the hardest your life will ever be. In a few years, you will be free to leave that town/school/church/home that is making you so sad, and to live a wonderful, joyful life. The videos so far are wonderful to see, and hopefully will provide some hope to young people who feel so isolated and desperate.

As I am only an ally of the GLBT community, and I don't relish the thought of putting a video of myself on the Internet, there will be no video from me. But I want to offer something up. My high school years were not bad. They could've been much, much worse. I was for the most part invisible to the bullies and mean girls at my school. And I made friends with important people (i.e. football players, the girlfriends of football players, principals) and so was protected. (Also I was really intense, so people may have been afraid of setting me off.) But there were still points of despair, where I felt so out of place and like there was a boulder on my head, keeping me from being anything other than what I was then--someone who knew how to fly below the radar, who would do your homework so you wouldn't make fun of her or maybe would leave her friends alone, someone who lived everyday hoping that this was not it. And now here I am. I live a life unlike anything I thought possible for myself. I live in a beautiful city. I know the most interesting people. I do amazing work. I have a truly great life.

And so I offer this to you, anyone who may stumble upon me through a random Google search. It gets better. The day you leave home for college might be the best day of your life. It was for me. You can see it in the smile on my face on my University of Texas ID. I keep that card to look at whenever I get bogged down in the pains of the past. It is a photo of optimism personified. The wide smile and bad haircut of a new beginning.

[And to take the road of schadenfreude for a moment, all those kids who make your life hell today will never be anything other than who they are now. They will continue to live in that small town that smells of sulfur/pig poop/industrial run-off. They will work at gas stations and auto part stores and trendy mall shops, dressing far too young for their 30 y.o. body. They will spend their days remembering their teens and knowing that that was the best their life will ever be. And they will get bald, and fat, and at least one of the jocks that called you homophobic names will be gay himself. And you will be hotter than him.]

A Letter Regarding Your Letter.

2010-09-18T11:13:00.009-04:00

Dear Dr. Starner Jones (I doubted you were real, but you are. I looked you up. I still blame Sarah Palin for this.),

Your letter was enlightening. Thanks for putting yourself out there. But I have some questions/statements in response. In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve been a socialist-thinking type since long before it was all the rage. My degree even has the word social in it.

So with regard to your letter. I am bothered by the prospect of you working in the ER. I imagine it was not your first choice, that you were hoping for a match in Plastics or something a bit more glamourous. But while you’re there, please take it as an opportunity to see how the other half lives.

You cite this patient’s smoking, eating, drinking and dentistry habits as evidence that ‘Obamacare’ is unwarranted. Do you know how much private insurance costs? On the cheap end, it’s about $300 a month for a single person. And this doesn’t cover prescriptions or pay for a significant portion of any surgery or acute medical care one might need, if one were to actually get sick. It doesn’t include dental (thus addressing the need for ornamental dentistry), or nutrition, or smoking cessation services, or myriad other needs. And it costs $300 a month. Generally people like you and me, who have been blessed with good paying jobs, have health insurance given to them. I pay like $80 a month for mine. But the average American who has no insurance, works a minimum wage job, making at most $7.25 an hour. If you work two part-time jobs (as minimum wage jobs are rarely full-time), you make about $14,000 per year. This is just above the poverty line for a single adult. [And just so we’re clear, these people don’t qualify for Medicaid. To qualify for Medicaid, one cannot make more than $700 per month (in New York) and/or must have a very expensive chronic health condition (i.e. cancer, AIDS, etc.) and even then you are rarely treated appropriately for any acute illness.] So let’s think about that. You make roughly $1000 per month. You must pay for rent, bills and food (you don’t qualify for food stamps either). Very conservatively that’s about $975 per month—rent being $700, utilities about $100 and then $175 for groceries (see below). And then you have to pay for your really crappy health insurance. That leaves you with -$275 per month. So you use credit cards to cover that. But then you have to add that to your budget, and with interest you’re never going to pay that off. So that $275 per month ends up costing you thousands of dollars. And that’s without you ever having gotten sick. Hmmm…seems I’ve hit a dead end.

Now let’s talk food for just a brief moment. I, a single person living in an expensive city who tends to eat organically, spend about $200 each month on groceries. And then maybe another $100 on eating out (a girl’s gotta have a social life). But the average, non-organic-eating, non-New York-living, person spends a bit less. According to the USDA, in 2004, the average food expenditure per person per month was $125. But then food prices have risen significantly since then, so it would be more like $175 in 2010. And once again, our example person, who has no health insurance, makes about $1000 a month (see budget above). And our example person doesn’t even have children. In a very strange paradox, obesity and hunger have become linked. Hunger is no longer about thin frail children. It’s about children who eat only processed foods, because their families cannot afford fresh vegetables. Or even better, there are no stores nearby that sell fresh vegetables. So vegetables turn into canned corn, or white rice, or French fries with ketchup. But that’s for another time.

I will leave you with a personal story of the woes of the badly insured. My second year of graduate school, I started having debilitating headaches. Anyone who knew me during that time would say that I was teetering on the edge of something really terrible. But I was insured through my university and thus went to the student clinic. I was seen by urgent care, referred to my regular doctor, sent to three specialists and physical therapy, and found no relief for months on end. I spent a night in the ER when it go so bad that I couldn’t swallow, and then two days of my life waiting for clinic appointments and being told these headaches were all in my head (in a metaphysical sort of sense). In the ended, I elected to have surgery to fix my wonky sinuses and received amazing relief for a couple of years. But my insurance only paid for 60% of the surgery and hospital costs, leaving me with a bill of about $15,000. And this was for a day surgery. Very thankfully, my doctor was a very kind gentleman and didn’t charge for his portion of the fees, about $12,000, and the rest went on my credit cards. A good portion of my debt comes from this incident and a couple years later when I had just changed jobs, and was thus without insurance, and my headaches became acute again. And I have since age 18 been gainfully employed, and insured, responsible with my ER usage and hospital choice. And here I am, with millions of other Americans, carrying large debt in the interest of my health, hoping that I can forgo another crisis.

Working in social services, I know very well that there are people out there abusing the system. People who could work but don’t. Who fake illnesses to live a life on disability. Who always choose the easy way. Or make vastly irresponsible life choices. But these people are few and far between. What we’re talking about here is families becoming homeless because one of their members needed life saving medical treatment. Or even worse, people dying because they can’t afford to see a doctor and wait until it is too late. I have seen this with my own eyes. No one should die because we have judged them unworthy of medical coverage.

Truly yours,

Casey B.

Brooklyn, New York

New-York-iversary (8).

2010-07-31T06:41:00.008-04:00

This week I celebrate (with a nap) my 8th New-York-iversary. And so, Three Beautiful Things for my 8 years in NYC....

(1) The ridiculously awesome people I've met here. Actors, dancers, academics, doctors, lawyers, activists, radicals, writers, designers, moms. Whether known for a minute or a lifetime, they are game changers.

(2) Public transportation and all of the convenience and entertainment it daily affords me.

(3) The knowledge that though I have lost many battles in/with this City, I am winning the war. And creating a peace agreement. And setting up a humanitarian alliance of states. And installing a puppet government. And throwing huge independence day celebrations complete with beer and meat and fireworks.

100,000 Homes.

2010-07-23T23:57:00.004-04:00

This is a program started by the organization with which I do homeless outreach. It's called the 100,000 Homes Campaign. They're hoping to house 100,000 people who are living on the streets by 2013, using the outreach model create by my program. Pretty stinkin' amazing.

A Post.

2010-06-18T00:35:00.008-04:00

So it’s been a long time. Here we go…

(A) A few months ago when I was at the conference referenced in the post below, someone asked me about my blog. My response was “I used to write a lot, but since Barack Obama was elected, I’m not as angry. I have nothing to say.”

(B) Barack Obama…I am undeterred. I still love him without condition. There are many things I wish were different. I wish that Guantanamo was actually closed. I wish that the war would actually be over by 2011. I wish that there were more jobs, and less debt. I wish that I didn’t see so many new people on the street each week. But I am confident, for the first time in my adult life, that my president is doing all that he can in the best interest of the country. And yes, there are daily things that go horribly wrong. Slow response to the flooding in Nashville. Massive oil spill days after the approval of off-shore drilling. The State (and state) of Arizona. But if we actually pay attention, we will see that things are changing, however slowly. You just have to pay attention.

(C) Attention….I got an iPhone back in October before I started my new job. I needed constant map access so I don’t get lost and murdered. : | I love her (my iPhone). Her name is Imogen. But one of the things that Imogen has brought into my life is a constant stream of media. Book reviews, restaurant reviews, movie reviews, blog and FB comments—all brought to me by way of app. With this flood of information, I’ve begun to notice that we, the young Internet users of America, are a hypercritical, snarky bunch. All books are dull. All restaurants are slow and bad. All movies are lame and unrealistic. All posts are stupid or fake or an opportunity for misplaced criticism of ones president/first lady/mayor/university/TV show/Ryan Seacrest. And so I wonder, how is it that we have so much time on our hands to read and comment in so many places with the sole intent of being nasty? Is it really so important to be the first commenter? I’m hoping that the revolution will include reading books. Positive, well-written books, with correct spelling and punctuation.

(D) Punctuation…I’ve got nothing to say about it. I just really like it. No, love it.

(E) Love…So in November, I took a new job. It was a job I’d had before, but part-time. I’m back homeless outreaching in Bklyn, full-time. I’m the clinician and supervisor for the overnight team. I love this job. Not always the actual job, but the potential of it. I often feel like I'm spinning my wheels, fighting against the currents of bureaucracy and staffing silliness. But the job has renewed my faith in good work, and good people, and has given me a bit of head space to think and plan and read and move forward. I struggle each day with my fatalistic tendencies, cultivated over many years of trying to not be disappointed by life. But there are times when I feel like I come out on the other side, and meet the day with hope. And compassion. And optimistic expectation. Ready to make a better world. And to do it all on about 4 hours sleep. Hardcore.

Camp.

2010-01-19T17:56:00.003-05:00

I spent last weekend in Washington, D.C. taking part in the 1st Annual Social Justice Camp. It was organized by one of my friends, and some of her friends, who just thought it was a good idea and saw the great potential that is possible when like-minded people are given the chance to put their heads together. It was a wonderful event. Friday night, there were 16 speakers, each given 5 minutes to spark the interest of others in their project or topic or insight (if anyone is interested in hearing my voice, I am at 28min, giving a shout out to Brooklyn and discussing Mental Health, Homelessness and Substance Abuse). And then on Saturday, there were roughly 40 sessions led by individuals participating in the weekend, discussing things they are experts in, things they are interested in, or things they are passionate about. I walked away feeling recharged and well-accompanied in my commitment to creating a better world. (And having been indoctrinated with Twitter facts.)

Thank you, Kelli, Aaron, Jenn, Ben, Greg, Christiana, and Wayne for putting on a great event.

Three Beautiful Things.

2009-09-28T14:55:00.009-04:00

To start the week....

(1) Reading back and finding beautiful things from the past 3 years, that continue to be beautiful. (ie. Barack Obama, Fun with friends, Weddings!, etc.)

(2) The opportunity to negotiate.

(3) The beginnings of chilly-but-not-quite-cold weather season.

From FDR.

2009-09-27T00:39:00.005-04:00

Tonight I went to see Michael Moore's newest liberal propaganda piece. I heart liberal propaganda...for real. Toward the end of the film, he talks about the success of the labor movement during the Great Depression, and the supportive response of President Roosevelt. In his last State of the Union Address, he spoke about the American government's responsibility to support its citizens in their pursuit of happiness and the right to equality in all aspects of their lives. It is a simple statement, but something that is sadly so, so far removed from where we currently reside. But we have Hope for tomorrow. Read on....

Excerpt from President Roosevelt's January 11, 1944 message to the Congress of the United States on the State of the Union:

It is our duty now to begin to lay the plans and determine the strategy for the winning of a lasting peace and the establishment of an American standard of living higher than ever before known. We cannot be content, no matter how high that general standard of living may be, if some fraction of our people—whether it be one-third or one-fifth or one-tenth—is ill-fed, ill-clothed, ill-housed, and insecure.
This Republic had its beginning, and grew to its present strength, under the protection of certain inalienable political rights—among them the right of free speech, free press, free worship, trial by jury, freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures. They were our rights to life and liberty.
As our nation has grown in size and stature, however—as our industrial economy expanded—these political rights proved inadequate to assure us equality in the pursuit of happiness.
We have come to a clear realization of the fact that true individual freedom cannot exist without economic security and independence. “Necessitous men are not free men.” People who are hungry and out of a job are the stuff of which dictatorships are made.
In our day these economic truths have become accepted as self-evident. We have accepted, so to speak, a second Bill of Rights under which a new basis of security and prosperity can be established for all—regardless of station, race, or creed.
Among these are:
The right to a useful and remunerative job in the industries or shops or farms or mines of the nation;
The right to earn enough to provide adequate food and clothing and recreation;
The right of every farmer to raise and sell his products at a return which will give him and his family a decent living;
The right of every businessman, large and small, to trade in an atmosphere of freedom from unfair competition and domination by monopolies at home or abroad;
The right of every family to a decent home;
The right to adequate medical care and the opportunity to achieve and enjoy good health;
The right to adequate protection from the economic fears of old age, sickness, accident, and unemployment;
The right to a good education.
All of these rights spell security. And after this war is won we must be prepared to move forward, in the implementation of these rights, to new goals of human happiness and well-being.
America’s own rightful place in the world depends in large part upon how fully these and similar rights have been carried into practice for our citizens.

On Vocation.

2009-08-30T11:20:00.006-04:00

At CCfB, we have begun a monthly series called "On Vocation," when members of our congregation are given the opportunity to speak about the correlations between occupation, and calling and faith. This is mine....

From my earliest memories up until a series of unfortunate grades my junior year of college, I always saw myself being a school teacher. First elementary school and then, as the sarcasm and cynicism took hold, a high school English teacher. But as I finished my BA in 2001, I began to rethink and embarked on a period of corporate work as a book copy editor. So when I moved to NYC in 2002, it was to do this. And certainly my year at the college newspaper and some time textbook editing were enough to get me a stellar job during a recession when most publishers were laying off the majority of their workforce. Of course. So after about 6 months in the City and about 15 temp jobs, I began volunteering on the days I wasn’t working and to rethink my rethinking. My volunteer job was with the GMHC, where I still volunteer today, and I was one of the people in charge of intake there. I would gather each new client’s information and discuss with the person what services were available to them, and then bring this to the social worker in charge, who would assign them appropriately. This social worker and some friends I had made at Manhattan Church were my advisors as I decided to embark on a new career.

Even as a child I had a strong sense of justice and a powerfully empathic heart. This led to a wicked combination of tattling and friendship with the weird kids, which made me very popular. This has followed me and probably led me to some strange life decisions, and to what can some days be called a successful career.

Since I’ve started officially social working, I have worked with a day program and a food program for people living with AIDS; with a home visiting program for the elderly; in a public hospital as a social worker for people with HIV and in supportive housing for people with mental illness; as an outreach worker for people living on the street and as an administrator for a program for people with mental illness who are attempting to move their lives forward. In these jobs, I have been a party planner, a surrogate grandchild, an advocate, a good, impartial friend; I have put on talent shows and fashion shows and planned memorial services. I have purchased cigarettes, coffee, sandwiches, donuts, shoes, soap, medications and once a big TV. All these things in an effort to better someone’s life situation, to bring them stability and joy and safety and understanding. To fulfill the basic human need of love and belonging.

The job is obviously challenging. In my profession, it is a sign of burn-out if you begin to find the work mundane. I have found, as I have been doing this for about 5 years now, that I reach a point every so often when the weight I bear for others becomes too much for me to bear myself. I am learning to carry less and am finding ways to cope with the frequent times when my work seems futile, and my valleys are becoming less frequent and not as deep. And faith is one of the things I’ve learned to turn to.

In preparing for this I was trying to find scriptures to go with what I was saying here. I searched ‘refuge’ and ‘justice’ and ‘poor’ in the online Bible. And then I went to my own, real-time Bible and looked at the things I have marked and underlined in it. And some of those were the scriptures read today. I have always had great difficulty separating religion from life experience. I was reading an editorial about the career of Senator Ted Kennedy this week and it said that he had an “insistence that politics be grasped and administered through the prism of human needs.” At this point in my life, I feel the same way about work and faith. In seeing each person as a child of God, the person is no longer just a client, a number or a statistic. They are a human being in need of, and deserving of, dignity and compassion.

In my work, there’s a very thin line between brilliant success and utter failure. Dealings in the human condition sadly complicate things. A person knows that they are better off living inside, but finds themself afraid and claustrophobic when they are finally moved off the streets. And it becomes easier for them to live in the park during the summers. Great strides might be made toward health and stability for a person with mental illness, but regardless of resolve, the mysterious nature of brain chemistry may still land them in the hospital every 6 months. And so compassion is our highest goal. Seeing the face of God in every man, woman and child, and knowing that they are worthwhile regardless of the hate they may spew or the seeming wickedness of their behavior, and being an example of love in their lives. That is all we can do some days. And I believe that this is enough. For “what does the Lord require of us? To do justice and to love mercy and to walk humbly with our God.”

Year 7.

2009-07-29T11:38:00.002-04:00

Today, I cross the threshold of official New Yorker status. When I moved here, I was told you aren't official until it's been 7 years. So, here we are. Here I am...the last one standing. And here is Kermit, telling us about the city we love...unless we hate it.

From Jen TB.

2009-07-10T15:14:00.003-04:00

My friend, and fellow CCfBer, Jen had opened up her blog others as a forum about women and our relationship to the churches of Christ. So far there are eight distinct voices there (mine being the last one, just for full-disclosure) breaking what for many of us has been a long held silence. Go...read...you will not be disappointed.

Three Beautiful Things.

2009-07-08T21:27:00.005-04:00

The last few weeks have been pretty stinkin' awful at work. But really, isn't there always something beautiful among the muck. So now Three Beautiful Things amid the goop.

(1) SYTYCD...for real, the funnest thing ever.

(2) Grown-ass people finding bliss in 4th of July arts & crafts.

(3) The beauty of possibility.

Wider Still.

2009-06-10T21:47:00.006-04:00

I spent the last five days in Austin with Nathan and his partner Abel. It was a lovely, relaxing vacation in my favorite (non-New York) city, spent with my dearest friend. Good times were had by all.

The timing of my trip just happened to coincide with Austin Gay Pride weekend. Since moving back to Austin, Nathan has started to go to the University Baptist Church. This is a place I always wanted to go while I lived in Austin. While we were in school at UT, UBC became notorious because it had chosen to disaffiliate itself with the Southern Baptist Convention and decided to become a welcoming and affirming church, something very bold even in a liberal mecca such as Austin. On Thursday night, while I was there, the church hosted a Gay Pride Unity Service. This service brought together people from many different faith traditions to show unity and solidarity as a community, and to worship together. The experience of being in a room full of people who have taken refuge in this church, many of whom have been rejected by their families and faith communities because of their sexual orientation or gender identity, was simply profound. People being able to rest there and fully feel a part of a community of faith, knowing that there is safety and acceptance for them and their partners and their children and families.

And so I feel renewed. There are so many grave injustices that we encounter everyday that seem insurmountable. But this is not one of them. Every one of us who is part of a community of faith has the power to undo this. The power to extend a hand, open a door, open a heart and see justice done.

At the end of the service, one of the choruses sang a song called, Draw the Circle Wide. This is what we must seek to do...draw the circle wide, wide enough for everyone to stand inside. Everyone. Everyone, EVERYONE. No one stands outside.

Draw the circle wide. Draw it wider still.
Let this be our song, no one stands alone, standing side by side,
Draw the circle wide.

God the still point of the circle Round whom all creation turns;
Nothing lost, but held forever, in God’s gracious arms.

Let our hearts touch far horizons. So encompass great and small;
Let our loving know no borders, faithful to God’s call.

Let the dreams we dream be larger. Than we've ever dreamed before;
Let the dream of Christ be in us, open every door.

The Day I Saw Barack Obama.

2009-05-30T20:50:00.011-04:00

So today sucked. Sucked. I had to work today. My train came in time, but then we all had to get off for who knows what reason. We waited 30 more minutes, and then squished ourselves onto a very crowded train. I got to work 10 minutes late and opened up. The wave of people expecting me to social work for them came in, but I said 'Oh wait. I've got to go make lunch," making good use of my graduate degree. I made a tasty tuna salad, complete with the most pungent onion known to man. Was berated by a staff person for another program, because people drank 2 cups of the coffee that she had put out in the cafeteria for people to drink two hours later. Was told that no one wanted my tuna sandwiches. Cleaned up after lunch, and went back to the office. Continued my streak of stopping people from using racial slurs when responding to their internal dialogues. Helped someone make some copies. Closed the place down. Did some work that should've been done yesterday by someone else. Walked back to the train to find that it wasn't running in my direction, so I took a ride uptown to run some errands, hoping that I could get to a stop that my train would be running from. I bought some stuff and went down to the subway, found that my train was not running there either. Got off the train and walked up the block to get a burrito. Had a mediocre, expensive burrito, and then I walked up 6th Avenue again hoping to find a way to get home. As I walked up the block a crowd had begun to gather, and traffic had been blocked off for all of 6th Avenue.

I, very unlike myself, stopped to observe and see if I could figure it out. And then I noticed the clear blue sky. And then a police helicopter. Then 50 or so cops go by on motorcycles. And then some dark cars with dark tinted windows just light enough to see the faces of the people inside. The people in front of me said, "He must be in the second car." I look up and see in the second car a very familiar face. "What?!?!" I said loudly in my head. "That's Barack Obama." And then he was gone. The scene on the street afterward is my favorite part. We all stood there for a moment and then started slowly walking up the block again, but our smiles are wider, our hearts are lighter. Some people have yet to be able to move, but stand there hand on chest in besotted sigh. Others call their friends, their moms. "Mama! I just saw Barack!" It was like a cross between those pictures of the screaming girls at Beatles' concerts and the "We Got Annie!" scene in Annie. I'm gonna call it We Got Barack. Holy cow! Those 30-seconds are so worth the crappy 8 hours that preceded them.

Mapped Out.

2009-05-29T22:55:00.015-04:00

I have a running map in my head of New York City. It is the subway system of mid-town Manhattan, as I learned entirely too much of it in my year of temphood. It is all of the best and cleanest public restrooms in Manhattan. It is the inner recesses of Brooklyn from my home visiting internship. It is the homes of my friends in Manhattan who were the first friends I had in the City, and who are some of the only people who can get me to come above 34th Street. And it is the neighborhoods of Brooklyn where I have lived since I’ve been here, and where many of my friends have made their homes.

The Bergen Street stop in Brooklyn has always been one of my favorite stops. It is where CCfB met for the first year, and meets now. It is where the G and F lines meet, so Nathan and I used have outdoor summer dinners there before he moved to Queens, before he moved back home. And it is where you got off to go to the home of my dear friends, Joe and Laura Hays. Their apartment has always been what I wanted to my home to be. An inviting space that is often filled with good food and lots of friends, and that is subsequently the backdrop for lots and lots of wonderful memories. Thanksgivings and Christmases, Easters and birthdays, random nights when people come together for no particular reason other than to enjoy each other’s company. Countless trips to hang out with their daughter, my six year-old friend Sophia. The F-line is the one near my home, so I passed by their stop each morning on my way to work, and have a distinct memory of riding by on the day they finally got to bring their son, Ira, home from the hospital, realizing that their family was finally complete. And today, as I rolled by, I remembered that today was the day they would be leaving for St. Louis.

Joe and Laura are the founding pastors of my church, Christ's Church for Brooklyn, and have always encouraged each of us to be fully ourselves, and to allow God to love us as we wholly are, and thus to allow others to love us in this way too. We will miss them so, so much as we carry on without them, knowing this is the most important thing, as Sophia always tells us, "To Love God and Love Others!"

AIDS Walk New York.

2009-05-13T14:34:00.002-04:00

It's AIDS Walk time again. This weekend about 40,000 New Yorkers will lace up their shoes and make the walk through Central Park in support of people living with HIV and AIDS. To support research and prevention efforts, and efforts to provide services to those living in the five boroughs who are infected with or affected by HIV. Click here to join our team, or to donate to the cause. Step Up. Stop AIDS.

In Defense of Marriage.

2009-04-17T00:00:00.006-04:00

I have over the past week received several e-mails from the HRC detailing new campaigns against gay marriage. I am obviously for equal marriage rights for LGBT people, so I have been trying to understand why it is that one would stand against this so fervently. Really, if we're that concerned about protecting the institution of marriage, I don't think it's LGBT people we need to fear, or the marriage of any particular combination of consenting willing adults we need to outlaw. If we're really so concerned about marriage then maybe we should begin by outlawing divorce, or infidelity, or flirtation, or fantasy. Or Britney Spears, or Maxim, or X-box, Playstation, etc. Or disatisfaction, or wandering eyes, or long hours, or business trips. Or MySpace (not Facebook...we love you). Or, I guess, the whole Internet. Or football, baseball, basketball season. Or Las Vegas. Or any and all REAL housewives. Or massive lay-offs and economic collapse. Or rushing in to, or rushing out of marriage too quickly. Not the union to two souls who wish to be together, who have fought long and hard for their relationship to be recognized, who love each other, and deserve to be treated as equals.

Let me know if I missed anything.

P.S.--Feel free to leave me explanations, but please don't leave me bigotry or misused Bible verses in the comments. I will delete them and you will have wasted your time, and then I will be forced to go to your blog and leave extensive discourse on why 90s Madonna was great, but nothing compares to 80s Madonna, and we won't even talk about millenial Madonna. You've been warned.

Where I Live.

2009-04-12T15:54:00.007-04:00

Over the past few months, I have found within myself a shift from being sad at injustice to being infuriated by it. I don't really know why this is. I do enjoy the anger a bit more. I feel like it is a more active emotion, which is not good in many instances as it leads to violence and vengeance and whatnot. But it can also mean positive change, motivation to no longer remain silent about injustice and to move on the behalf of those who are impacted. So, yes...rage.

When I read the papers and on the rare occasion that I watch the news, I can only sit and sigh (or on occasion curse). Stories of increasing home foreclosure means more people will be homeless, and these people will be families with children or elderly people with little income. Stories of increased crime and violence in all corners of the globe, the economies of entire countries nearing collapse, mounting global poverty as aid slows due to lack of funding. And I do not know how we got here or why this was allowed to happen. I am perplexed at the short-sightedness of all our solutions, not understanding that crime rises for a reason, that young men turn to terrorism for a reason, that even pirates have families. That nothing occurs in isolation of what has come before it. I do not believe that people turn to crime because they are lazy, or terrorism because they are evil. It is centuries of prejudice and acts of terrorism carried out by so-called liberators that have led us to this point.

But I guess it's easier to answer problems in isolation. To address terrorism rather than intolerance. To address piracy rather than poverty. And I don't say this in a self-righteous, 'look at me talkin' about lofty social problems" sort of way. I mean it for real. If we admit that we are responsible for these problems and that it is our responsibility to now solve them, then it can no longer be someone else's job to think about these things and to make them better. It's yours. This is where I'm living. So yes....wrath.

A Deep Breath.

2009-04-02T22:29:00.004-04:00

I spend alot of time listening to other people's stories. And then another significant measure watching and reading other people's stories. The majority of these stories are sad, and frustrating, and frightening, at many turns, deeply disturbing. And so I find myself a bit weighed down most of the time. Sometimes very, very weighed down. So I watch less crime drama, and stop reading about war. I look for jobs working with refugees, with orphans, with prisoners, with veterans, in hospitals, in hopes of proactivity lessening my burden. I go back to work, and offer advice rather than listening as I should. I look for something outside myself--relationships, activities, uninvolved work, religion-- or something more deeply inside myself--meditation, focus, hope--to offer support. But I am too practical and cannot shake my feelings of responsibility to my fellow man, or my guilt at not giving enough, or at allowing my heart to get in the way.

I wish, oh how I wish, I was able to fully believe in something. At times I find myself envying some of my patients, because they can say with utmost certainty (however delusional it may be) to God speaks to them, and knows them, and has a purpose for them and for their suffering. But I cannot see this most of the time. This week I have watched a television show about child soldiers, read a story about the irreparable harm done to prisoners put in solitary confinement or by the social isolation of homelessness, and listened to scores of stories about desperation, and destitution, and deprivation. And I sleep less, and work more, and make an attempt at prayer, and contemplate another tattoo, or a drum, or an angsty pair of shoes. And I think about the possibility of God actually working that way. Of having a purpose for every person and every horrible occurrence, at hope coming from despair, and joy from sadness. I take a deep breath and I step off to begin a new day. And I hope that belief can come from wanting. That peace can come from belief.

Building Walls.

2009-03-15T17:45:00.009-04:00

When the violence between Israel and Hamas was renewed at the end of last year, I decided that I needed to understand. I know that there are thousands of years of history that have led them to this point. Failed treaties; ignored agreements; violent acts committed by terrorists rather than governments, but bringing the organized retaliation of a government. Anyway, I decided that I needed to understand, so I bought Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid by Jimmy Carter, in hopes that the president of my birth could help me out. And I feel that after reading this, I do understand, at least a little bit, why it is that this is so, so difficult and so long-lived a conflict. But really for me the most difficult part of it was the building of the wall between Israel and the West Bank, separating people from family members, and business enterprise, food and clothing, supplies, gasoline, electricity.

And then I read an article in the New Yorker about Mumbai, in the wake of Slumdog Millionaire. The children who live in the slums of Mumbai, like those portrayed in the movie, live off of what they can find to sell, what they can find that's edible. They die from preventable diseases, and have a rate of malnourishment equal to that of countries in Sub-Saharan Africa. All of this with burgeoning business and tourist enterprises within reach, but blocked by walls of concrete topped with barbed wire and broken glass.

This brings me to our border fence. We read each week about new violence in Mexico, how the cities are not safe and it's spilling over into the US. We continue to build the fence to keep out the poverty we have forged that we must now keep on the other side of the wall.

We go to great troubles to separate ourselves from the disastrous world our greed and selfishness and prejudice has wrought. We create refugee camps and resettlement plans rather than find ways to forge a lasting peace. We create vast networks of homeless shelters and food pantries rather than creating affordable housing and assuring that every person is fed as they should be. Walls are no substitute for justice.

Chapter 4.

2009-02-11T21:31:00.004-05:00

This morning, as I said good-bye to Nathan at the super swank Holiday Inn in LIC, I began to realize even more how different my life will be. I enjoy telling people our story, as the apparent mobility of my generation has made a friendship such as ours very rare. We met during our first semester at UT, and bonded over high school band memories. We finished college together and moved to NYC together. We helped start a church together. We watched alot of embarrassing television together (mostly my idea). The only time when have been apart over the last 11 years has been the first summer we were in college and the summer Nathan lived in Mexico. And tomorrow is the first day in a long, long time, we will wake up in different cities.

And so I find myself starting a new chapter in my life. I've decided it's chapter 4--childhood being chapter 1, Austin life chapter 2, early NYC chapter 3. When Nathan first confirmed for me that he was going home, I kind of panicked, not being super-fond of change. I have always had him there, as my go-to for advice, and ER escorts, and dinner, and drinks, and brunches (oh, the brunches), and the occasional financial bailout. And so I began to search for another point of stability, and I found CCfB. But then a few weeks ago, we were told that CCfB as we know it will soon cease to exist. The focal point of my week, going to PS 261 and talking to Joe and Laura, and the brilliant friends I've made there, will no longer be there due to issues of funding and logistics, and that stable point was gone. So again, I panic a little.

But I awoke this morning, knowing that I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. None at all. The fundamentals will be the same, but some fundamental things will be missing or just drastically different. My world will be rocked. And I have decided that this might be good. No matter how wild and impulsive I might seem, how edgy and adventurous, my every move is planned. Tomorrow, I begin chapter 4 with no idea what might come, and no idea what chapter 5 might look like. And maybe that's alright.

My Favorite Part...

2009-01-20T19:37:00.008-05:00

Text of the benediction by Rev. Joseph Lowery (pictured right with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.) during President Barack Obama's inauguration:

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, thou, who has brought us thus far along the way, thou, who has by thy might led us into the light, keep us forever in the path we pray, lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met thee, lest our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee.

Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand true to thee, oh God, and true to our native land.

We truly give thanks for the glorious experience we've shared this day.

We pray now, oh Lord, for your blessing upon thy servant Barack Obama, the 44th president of these United States, his family and his administration.

He has come to this high office at a low moment in the national, and indeed the global, fiscal climate. But because we know you got the whole world in your hands, we pray for not only our nation, but for the community of nations.

Our faith does not shrink though pressed by the flood of mortal ills.

For we know that, Lord, you are able and you're willing to work through faithful leadership to restore stability, mend our brokenness, heal our wounds, and deliver us from the exploitation of the poor, of the least of these, and from favoritism toward the rich, the elite of these.

We thank you for the empowering of thy servant, our 44th president, to inspire our nation to believe that yes we can work together to achieve a more perfect union.

And while we have sown the seeds of greed — the wind of greed and corruption, and even as we reap the whirlwind of social and economic disruption, we seek forgiveness and we come in a spirit of unity and solidarity to commit our support to our president by our willingness to make sacrifices, to respect your creation, to turn to each other and not on each other.

And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.

And as we leave this mountain top, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.

Bless President Barack, First Lady Michelle. Look over our little angelic Sasha and Malia.

We go now to walk together as children, pledging that we won't get weary in the difficult days ahead. We know you will not leave us alone. With your hands of power and your heart of love, help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nations shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid, when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around...when yellow will be mellow...when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen. Say Amen. And Amen.

What was your favorite moment today?

A New Year, A New Day.

2009-01-19T11:03:00.012-05:00

I'm normally one to start the New Year with a post about my hopes for the coming year. However, I decided to wait for this year to begin. Today is my New Years Eve. I look to tomorrow with a hope unknown before and a knowledge that things do actually change, that my voice has been heard, that my hopes have become reality and I have been a part of an amazing day in our history. I do not know when it is that I will stop being brought to tears by the thought of Barack Obama and his family in the White House, but my tears of joy are a welcome change.

There is a program on NPR called "This I Believe." When I began listening to it, I also began thinking about what it is that I believe, above all things.

I believe in hope.

In the summer of 2008, I got my second tattoo—the word hope in a box on my left wrist. With time and the weathering caused by its odd location, and because of my penchant for punctuation, it has come to look like a command stamped permanently on me. The tattoo artist, Jeff P. (look him up, he’s very good), asked me why I was getting it. And I replied, “Because, sometimes I need a reminder.”

Since I got the tattoo, I’ve begun to notice the word everywhere, like when you buy a car and begin to see it all over the road. In the mundane, “I hope that goes on sale,” “I hope you are well,” “I hope this economy gets better soon.” In poetry, “Hope is the thing with feathers/That perches in the soul,/And sings the tune--without the words,/And never stops at all”. In politics, for “while we breathe, we will hope.” In a speech by Harvey Milk, “The only thing they have to look forward to is hope. And you have to give them hope. Hope for a better world, hope for a better tomorrow, hope for a better place to come to if the pressures at home are too great. Hope that all will be all right.”

I’ve thought a lot this year about hope. What it really means to give someone hope. To show them what might be. In Spanish the word for “hope” is the same as the word for “wait.” Waiting for something better. Waiting for something to come along that will bring us out and make things better again. Hope moves us forward when things get rough. Hope is the last thing we turn to, and the last thing we lose. Hope gave us a new president.

Hope will spur us forward into tomorrow, despite our failing economy, our knowledge that the world is not as it should be—that millions of people live in poverty, their lives torn apart by war and disease, their hearts broken by the destruction of their homes and families, feeling forgotten by the world community—for tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow our president will close Guantanamo Bay. Tomorrow our president will listen to the millions of voices crying out for change. Millions of voices who have gone unheard until that day. But my hope does not lie with Barack Obama alone. It lies with the fact that millions of people actually believe that something better is possible, and that we have the power to make a better world.

Today, I can feel the collective inhalation of a coming global sigh of relief. The deep and cleansing breath of a New Day.

Memory.

2008-12-31T16:43:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I was listening the podcast of the This American Life episode called "20 Acts in 60 Minutes." One of the acts is a man telling the story of seeing and greeting someone, and having no idea where he knows her from. Then agonizing over this until he sees her at the drive-thru window of his coffee spot...explaining the reason he felt that he might be in love with her.

So I thought this was very funny, because I am often having this "where do I know you from" dialogue in my head about people I pass on the street, or see at restaurants, or social gatherings. I have an impeccable memory. There was time when I could recall what I was wearing on any given day of a month, and on days many months before when something only minorly significant had happened. When Nathan was filling out med school applications, he called me to figure what his extracurriculars were in 1999. For real. But I seem to be fading.

Today I was walking to get some lunch (at 4pm) and saw these two women huddled next to a building smoking. I looked over at them, noticing the scarf that one of the women was wearing and deciding that it wouldn't work for me. Then one of the women excitedly greeted me, and asked me how I was. I, while continuing to walk, returned her greeting and then went on my way. I can say with great certainty, I have no idea who this woman was. None. There were some people that ran through my head, but they were discounted as they do not smoke, and it would make no sense for someone to start smoking in their mid-thirties. On the way back to my office, I found myself hoping that they were still out there, so I could stop and talk and gain some context clues, so I could know if it was a work, or church, or school, or social connection. But no such luck. The good news is I can enter 2009 knowing that I will never again get upset because someone does not remember me. But, sadly, also with the knowledge that someone might be kind of upset that I would just walk on by when we shared so much, so long ago.

A New Decade.

2008-12-17T00:00:00.003-05:00

And so I have begun my third decade. This is not something I had been looking forward to, but really I'm enjoying year 3-1 so far. Most of my friends in NYC are older than me and passed this mark at least a couple of years ago. They have told me that everything is better after 30...not as much pressure, a sudden feeling of being a bit more self-assured, and maybe finally crossing-over to adulthood in the current climate of delayed growing up. And while I will miss being able to say "No...I'm still in my 20s," and the feeling of accomplishment that I've always felt at being younger than most everyone in my classes or at my various jobs, it's probably okay. I'm no longer advanced. I'm just normal now.

And now some highlights from the last year of my 20s:

Made my first trip abroad, going to London for a friend's 30th birthday. And I managed to come back without an accent.
Made a trip to San Francisco for the wedding of one my dearest.
Got my nose pierced, as I have wanted to do since I was like 18. Don't tell my dad.
Got another tattoo and shared my first one with a friend. Her husband has almost gotten to the acceptance phase.
Made some wonderful (and certainly lifelong) friends.
Helped elect a president. I still get a little overwhelmed when I see the pictures from this election, and think about what this meant, and could mean, to so many people.
Learned a bunch of stuff...in books, and facts, and life.
Have come to the conclusion once again that NYC, you and I, though sometimes you bring me down, are in this for the long haul.

It's All About Love.

2008-12-13T13:05:00.006-05:00

I received an e-mail today from one of my activism groups, the Human Rights Campaign, about the response received by an article in this week's Newsweek called The Religious Case for Gay Marriage. Read it (all of it), and come back to me.

I have been really, really disappointed in the holiday season this year. I had hoped, however naively, that the current economy would lead people to put a different meaning on Christmas. "We can't really afford that Xbox this year, so we're just gonna love each other alot." But instead it has only increased our national greed and desperation for more, and more, and more, holding on with every fiber of our being to everything we can get our hands on. This was illustrated to me profoundly by the death of the poor man who was trampled by shoppers at a Wal-Mart in New York State. We are so thirsty for bargains that we do not notice that we are stepping on a person. Stop to think about that for a moment.

I try very hard to illustrate generosity to my clients, and to encourage them to be involved and do things for people who are even less fortunate than they, but I am mostly (not all the time) met with blank stares before the mad rush for whatever morsel I have placed before them. And I do understand the psychology of this. People who have lived in a state of constant deprivation have a fundamental drive to grab and hoard whatever they can find, as it may happen again that they are left without. And especially in a capitalist society, the poor are given very little room to be charitable. But this doesn't mean that it doesn't destroy me every time it happens. Recently, the participants in my program decided that if there was any food left over at the end of the day from the breakfasts, lunches and dinners that are provided to them free of charge, they would claim it to take it home and then throw the rest away, rather than taking it downstairs to the homeless people that live on our steps. I want to know how we got to this. I alternate between this making me profoundly sad, and making me profoundly angry, which leads me to want to withhold some of the resources I have been given for my clients as a means to show them what need is like. But then I know that they know (or have known) what desperation is like, and I wonder how they have so quickly forgotten.

So in reading this article (I know it's taken me a while to get back to it), the thing that struck me the most is strength of our collective inclination to deny other people something that has brought us profound joy, and to make enemies of people we do not understand. I believe that for most people who are married, this is one of the greatest things that has ever happened to them. And there is something so, so deeply wrong about turning this into a privilege for only a few, or into a weapon used to deprive about 10 percent of the population of their fundamental rights. There is inherent complication in the fact that an institution that is supposed to be based on partnership and love has become the basis for legal rights and privileges. And by denying certain people to right to marry, or by tying so many fundamental rights and privileges up in the institution of marriage, we are creating an underclass of people based on sexual orientation, or based simply on the fact that not everyone is cut out for marriage. And in so doing, we are missing the point, made even worse by tying all of this up in our religious beliefs, and denying people these rights based on what we believe our translation of the Bible is saying. But it also says that God is love. And it says that "love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends." Never ends.

Giving Thanks (2).

2008-11-28T15:37:00.006-05:00

As is the tradition of most families on Thanksgiving, I have more than once this week gone around the table and told what I am thankful for this year. My answers, for the past few years at least, are always the same.

(1) Work...Despite the fact that my job is at times so, so difficult and so, so frustrating, I know that I am one of very few people in the world who is doing something that they truly love, and who gets to daily follow their calling in life. On good days, I know that I am doing something that will change the world at least a little bit, so I will press on through the bad days, and be grateful for the opportunity to do it.

(2) The greatest thing in the whole wide world, my friends. The people I have collected in my journey over the years are amazing, brilliant, quirky, kind, hilarious people. They are people I have known since childhood, and with whom my relationship has at times waxed and waned, but who I know will always be a part of my life. And they are people who I've known for only a short time, but with whom I experience a sort of love at first sight, knowing the first time I meet them that we will indeed be wonderful friends. And people everywhere in between. It is one of the things unique to living in New York City, the power of friendships that are formed here. We all come here on our own unique exploratory expeditions, knowing maybe two people from our pre-New York lives, and we begin to build a life. These are the people with whom we spend holidays and birthdays, days good and bad and ugly, and all of the important moments of our lives. All but one of the people I spent Thanksgiving with yesterday were people who I didn't really know at all this time last year, but I can certainly say that it was one of the best, most love-filled holidays I have ever had.

(3) The opportunity to live in New York City. The extraordinary place that makes it all possible.

Giving Thanks.

2008-11-26T11:49:00.009-05:00

Three Beautiful Things for Thanksgiving Week.

(1) Repairing rather than replacing things.

(2) Getting back to work with Street to Home.

(3) The upcoming Drunken Foodie Thanksgiving.

Standing together.

2008-11-13T16:47:00.006-05:00

This weekend, in all 50 states, there will be simultaneous protests against Proposition 8 and all of the other anti-gay legislation that has been passed and that will certainly come. See you Saturday. Join the impact.

Day One.

2008-11-05T18:51:00.010-05:00

I awoke this morning in disbelief of the events of last night. The first thing I did was check the news to make sure that nothing had happened in the middle of the night (or really the wee-small hours of the morning) to make the news media take it back. Last night was maybe the greatest day of my life.

I spent the evening with friends in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, and it was decided that those of us from red states (representing Tennessee, Ohio, New Mexico, and Texas) would have to touch a worm from the compost bin if our states didn't go blue. The section of Pennsylvania where I worked turned blue, justifying my blisters and papercuts. Ohio and New Mexico went blue quickly, and my other potential worm toucher and I waited with baited breath. But before they could even declare defeat in our states, something happened. As we flipped channels, ending a period of mocking for Fox News, we were greeted by the caption, "OBAMA DECLARED PRESIDENT-ELECT." Confused and perplexed, we yelled and screamed and flipped through the channels, checked in the Internet and got quiet for one small moment when we collectively realized what this meant. It was then that we heard that cheers from the streets, and joined in. We ran up to the roof, and joined in the revelry...with people running up and down the street, hanging out of windows, jumping up and down on rooftops, horns honking. This was like nothing any of us had ever experienced. We called our friends and family around the country to share our joys. We texted and updated statuses, opened the champagne, still making declarations of disbelief.

We ran back down to watch the speeches, still hearing the woots from the street. Mocked our foe a bit. And waited from Senator Obama to come on. We watched Fox News again, seeing if anyone would throw up. And then we listened to the speech of the president-elect. Our president. Loving those words...Our president.

We decided that we're going to the inauguration, as the music will actually be good this year. And we're too close to not be there for this amazing day. And then we remember that we all had to work tomorrow.

I came to work this morning, hoping for the party to continue on my train ride in. To see someone whose smile was as wide as mine. But everyone was sleepy and unemotional. But at my job it was different. Every conversation has a new optimism. Every mention of the word hope has more meaning. Today is truly a new day, as difficult as any here, but with underlying promise, and a sense of peace that was not here yesterday. Nothing has really changed, but there is something in the air. To quote Mr. Obama "While we breathe, we will hope."

One Last Push.

2008-11-03T22:41:00.002-05:00

I promise this is my last ad of the political season. I promise...now Come Out and Vote!

Two Days in Philadelphia.

2008-11-03T22:18:00.005-05:00

On Sunday morning (earlier than I should ever be awake) I went to Philadelphia to work with the Obama campaign doing door-to-door canvassing and phone banking. I was there for Sunday and Monday, to help them do their last minute "Get Out the Vote" effort, and I can't even tell you what it has been like to work with these people. In most crowds that I'm in, I'm the most impassioned person in the room. I get really fired up about stuff and can talk pretty much anyone into submission. But I am nothing compared to these people. They are hard core. It was just amazing to see how many people have taken vacations and weekends, and brought their spouses and children, to come for however long they can to be a part of this. And all of the people I met were so engaging, and so invested, and so hopeful for something better to come.

Heal This Nation.

2008-10-25T12:29:00.001-04:00

Because we love America, almost as much as we love Sally Field.

No Poverty in Politics.

2008-10-19T23:56:00.006-04:00

My viewing and reading of political discourse is pretty constant these days. I am beyond jazzed about the prospect of Barack Obama being our next president. I am even more excited that there are no more debates to sit through. I have grown tired of yelling at my TV. One of my friend's mentioned in her debate blog her dismay that the poor were never mentioned in the debates, overtaken by our concern for the middle class, in which the majority of us reside. I went yesterday to Pennsylvania to do canvassing for Senator Obama's campaign and sat in on informational conference calls and read stacks of policy material/propaganda. During our canvassing debriefing, we were told to go back again and again to the message that "Barack Obama will never betray the middle class," with no mention of what must be done for the poor.

So I've been thinking about this alot. If you Google Obama on Poverty, you do get a comprehensive policy statement, but this is not something that has been talked about in any of the debates or on any of the mainstream media new programs. And I guess this is because the majority of American's place themselves in the fabled Middle Class. We are used to our concerns being heard, because we are the voters that can make or break you. We need to know what you will do to make our lives easier and to help sustain our way of life. Nothing is less popular than the times when one of the candidates have talked about the potential sacrifices we will be asked to make during the current economic crisis, or the tax hikes that may be necessary to fortify our infrastructure, or to work toward expanding healthcare or improving schools. But people who live in poverty are not used to being heard. They are used to being uniformly blamed for society's ills without consideration of how these supposed ills came to be.

It is as if these people do not matter. As though their voicelessness means that they do not deserve to be heard. It is imperative that we address these problems for the people afflicted. For most of us it is difficult to believe or understand that there are people living mere miles from our homes who do not have enough to eat, who are in constant danger of becoming homeless, who are more likely to die from treatable medical conditions because they receive inadequate medical care, if any. And I feel that this is inexcusable.

Now if you look at the policies of the nominees, there are things there that will affect the poor. Raising the minimum wage, extending and improving educational policies, striving for universal health care, job creation, etc. But these things are not presented as a war on poverty because we are more concerned for our own economic recovery than we are for providing relief for people who have never had anything. I have difficulty reconciling this. I, as with all things, would like for the nominees to just come out and acknowledge these injustices, and to say what they strive to do to repair them. But maybe that is too much to ask.

An Endorsement.

2008-10-19T23:55:00.002-04:00

Act Up.

2008-10-14T21:57:00.007-04:00

I daily get a million or so e-mails from political organizations and organizers. So a few important ones for you today...

First, from my friend, Aydrea in L.A....I had a conversation with a client of mine last week about things he did in his life as an activist working with the Black Panthers and the Weatherman (those words just ruined my hopes of ever being president). We discussed the fact that he had never thought he would be sitting there, sharing so much information, in such a vulnerable spot, with a young, White woman. I, after a while, tried to reassure him by letting him know that I have read about his fight in the 60s and am dismayed that any of it ever had to occur and that it continues to occur, and that he underwent such trauma because of the color of his skin. And it made me think of this letter.

Second, from my friend Paul in San Francisco...Vote No on 8! Despite the fact that the California Supreme Court declared a ban on same-sex marriage unconstitutional last Spring, there is now a referendum up for vote in November to change the California constitution to make marriage exclusive to heterosexual couples. I have a difficult time really explaining why this is so important to me. But after my dear friend's wedding this summer, it became known to me how important it is that he and is partner being allowed to be and stay married. State by state things are changing...just last week, Connecticut changed their policies. New York, due to the conservative pockets outside of New York City, will not change anytime soon, but our governor enacted a policy that recognizes marriages made legal in any state...a step in the right direction. So, it's important that California not go back. Most of you don't live in California, so you can't vote on it, but you can read about it and donate money to the fight.

And then a last one, received in a e-mail today. There is a campaign to develop a National AIDS Strategy. This is necessary for the U.S. government to appropriately address the problem of AIDS as it effects people in the U.S. Read about it here, and take the opportunity to lend your support.

Long Overdue.

2008-10-03T17:57:00.003-04:00

I was reading a blog a used to read today and found myself linked there. It reminded me of the power of joy in small things. So, three beautiful things for today...

(1) Nonsensical conversations brought on by nonsensical VP debates...about pork bellies. Everyone likes pork bellies. What's so wrong with pork bellies?

(2) Having had the same conversation with the same people so many times that you have a script in your head. Sounds monotonous but really it's just terrifically efficient.

(3) The first sweater and scarf day of fall. Hooray!

The Great Debate.

2008-09-26T22:05:00.008-04:00

The debate is not over, but it has already enraged me. I don't believe that there will be any winners tonight. They are not really answering any questions, but simply restating their difficulties with each other's policies and providing one another with quotes for new attack ads next week. Equating hope with naiveté, each believing that his experience and the people that he knows make him more qualified, denying each other the right to speak without interruption. Pronouncing the names of countries with differing levels of correctness. I do understand that if in response to questions about the war, Mr. Obama were to give the answers I want, he would not be elected. In the deepest, darkest, most idealistic inner-recesses of my heart and mind, I want one or both of the candidates to throw all their notes aside and say, "F-this. I am so tired of talking in circles. This is what I really think, and this is what I want to do in the deepest, darkest most idealistic inner-recesses of my heart and mind." I imagine that some of the inner recesses of my heart and mind match up with Senator Obama's, and that Senator McCain's inner-recesses would either make me cry or make my head explode, but I still want to hear from it. So, knowing very well that McCain and Obama will read my blog, I pose the following questions:

(1) What would achieving 'victory' (and I would use the air-quotes) in Iraq look like to you?
(2) Why is Israel so much more important and deserving of our protection than all of the countries they have threatened and brought great devastation upon over the last 60 years?
(3) I recently read on Reuters that the decline in sectarian violence in Iraq was not due to the troop surge, but due to ethnic cleansing that occurred against the Sunni people before the beginning of the surge. How do you respond to this?
(4) How do you feel that maintaining an ever-expanding an 'Axis of Evil' will move forward the prospect of peace in the world?

*Pause* Mr. McCain would you please stop invoking the name of Ronald Reagan. It just pisses me off and I can't really concentrate. Thanks.

(5) It has been proven time and again that young people living in abject poverty are more likely to turn to terrorist activities in response to the rage they feel of being forgotten and seeing their countries destroyed by the greed of wealthy foreign powers. Really there's not a question there...just a statement I would like you to hear.
(6) You speak often of the American people. Who are these American people, and where did you meet them? I've got some who would like to have a word with both of you...when you get a minute.
(7) How do you believe we can solve the problems of poverty within our own nation?
(8) And just out of curiosity, have you read each other's policy statements? You seem to keep getting stuff wrong. Do we need to take a break?
(9) What do you perceive as the dangers of diplomatic talks with Ahmadinejad, Chavez, the Castros, and other foreign leaders in nations who have not traditionally be allies of American State?

That's all I've got right now. Get crackin' boys.

Unrest.

2008-09-14T03:01:00.006-04:00

I am a restless person. I come by it genetically I think, as is evidenced by the fact that by the time I was 12 my family and I had moved about 10 times. This comes as a surprise to people who don't know me well, or who have been kept at a distance. I, over the past few years, have come to understand how stress and chaos effect my health, so I try to surround myself with quiet, peaceful people, and keep myself from as much of the chaos of the world as I can. I have tattooed my body with peace in the form of dove, and with hope in the form of a command stamped on my arm, trying to remind myself that these things do exist. This is why I don't watch the news any more, or watch scary or violent movies. But no matter how much I fight it, it always catches up with me. So I try to fight restlessness with action. In my healthier moments, this has led to therapy, introspection, exercise, and acupuncture. In my less healthy periods, this has led to bad company, a bit of self-destructive behavior, switching apartments and jobs. I fight with all my might to not go back to those places. I do not like it there. But it is so much easier, and a much quicker solution.

As you can tell by my time stamp, I'm in one of these periods. I'm blaming work, and the state of the world, my constant viewing of the political conversation, and too much time spent alone. I find it hard to sit still, and to sleep. And when I do sleep, my dreams are crazy, sometimes disturbing but mostly just chaotic. And so now I am searching for what to do. And I really have no idea. I tell myself in these times to pray for peace. But my unquiet mind makes this difficult. So I try to sit, and breathe, and rest, and hope that my message is received.

Reconvening.

2008-09-03T23:46:00.005-04:00

In an attempt to be somewhat balanced, though I am fairly sure that's impossible, I've made it a point to watch the RNC this week. Last night I turned it on and made it through about 5 minutes of Fred Thompson before I could stand no more and had to turn if off. And tonight I managed to sit through the majority of Rudy Gulianni, who surprisingly only mentioned 9/11 one time, though his backdrop was the downtown skyline of New York City. And then came Sarah Palin, who made an impressive show, whose shoes were much better this time around, who has proudly towed her party line of affluence for the already affluent, and endless violence over the possibility of diplomacy. As she spoke of drilling in Alaska to bring about energy independence, I had this picture in my head of the point in the Lion King when Scar has taken over and all the trees have been destroyed and the herds have moved on. I know that none of this is far or balanced, and I have drank entirely too much of the very tasty Obama Kool-Aid to feel any differently. But I do have some serious, serious problems with all of this. They are as follows....

First of all, days late, I am terrifically insulted that the Republican Party would presume that one woman candidate is as good as the next, and that the women of America are so naive to believe that Governor Palin and Senator Clinton can be compared in anyway beyond their apparent political aspirations and their anatomical features.

(2) In my line of work, you meet alot of veterans. People who thought it was their duty, who were poor and enlisted for greater opportunities, or who were drafted and had no out, who fought in Vietnam or Desert Storm. Not one of these people who I have met believes that this war should continue. They know all too well the toll of war. This was one of the reason I was so supportive of John Kerry 4 years ago. He was someone who had fought in an unjust war, and who had had the courage to step back and to say so. Though his ordeal there was nothing compared to Senator McCain's, he knew what he was talking about when he said that this should not continue. It is not cowardice to believe that we should end the war before all important victory is attained...whatever victory even means anymore.

(3) I am very insulted by the disdainful and mocking tone tonight's speakers used when speaking of Senator Obama's experience as a community organizer. They have never seen the need for such organizing as they have apparently never been a part of a forgotten community. Community organizers are the people who begin the fight for better schools in low-income neighborhoods, for better opportunities and higher education for young people, for health care and housing for poor and marginalized people. When you insult their advocates, you are once again forgetting millions of forgotten people.

It is frighteningly apparent that the people who develop the party platforms for the RNC are speaking to a very small piece of America. They do not speak to the millions of unemployed or uninsured Americans. Or the millions of people living on the streets. Or those living in seemingly endless cycles of poverty and despair. I am terrified at the prospect of the country being put into the hands of people who see no need to give people hope and who mock those who try to do so. Because quite frankly, hope is all some people have right now.

Train of Thought.

2008-08-20T15:18:00.005-04:00

This morning I came into work, only have to leave very quickly to attend to a situation. My boss is out of town this week, so I am the boss. And I think I’m doing a very good job—making rash decisions, passing down illogical edicts, suspending people willy-nilly, eating tacos. But anyway, so I took a cab to said situation and got hopelessly, borderline-yelling-at-the-cab-driver lost, and then decided to take the much safer, better directed train back to my office. And then I started thinking.

If I were homeless, and going to do some train panhandling, what song would a I choose to sing if I were to choose to sing?

This led to a playlist in my head, and I decided on either a gospel-y showtune, or an old jazz standard. Then I began thinking about what it would take for me to become homeless. I’ve discussed before my theory about safety nets. And then I started thinking about burning metaphorical bridges, which is what we generally attribute the lack of safety net to. And then I realized… If you burn all your metaphorical bridges, then you’re either on an island, or you are an island. Which explains a lot really.

Catching Up...Again.

2008-08-08T19:50:00.007-04:00

I'm becoming one of those people. I don't know what it is that is keeping me from the blog, but I'm trying. I promise. So catching up a bit.
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A couple of weeks ago, I got to go to San Francisco to visit UT friends and go to the wedding of one of my dearest. San Francisco (which I've decided to pronounce with an accent) was lovely, though I didn't really see alot of it. I decided to not do anything much. My friends all live in interesting neighborhoods, so it was like sightseeing to walk out the front door. I will go back, since so many who I like so much live there. But really, the most important part...the wedding. When people have asked me about the wedding, all I can say is "It was lovely." Not too big, very personal, nice attire (final touches picked out by me the previous afternoon), wonderful cupcakes. And due to the legal providence of California Supreme Court, my friend and his partner were able to legally marry. It is days like this that make me ever more puzzled as to why people would be against the marriage of two wonderful people who want to start a life together.
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Today, I contributed to the national employment crisis. I had to fire someone. Though I did not technically do the firing, I did the hiring. I observed the issues. I attempted to help with said issues. I discussed and contemplated with others. I got frustrated and decided that I could do nothing else. So in all I did the firing. It's pretty awful to know that you're putting someone out there during a time when there are no jobs be found. Social Work School does very little prepare you for anything administrative. And I know it's a bit ridiculous, but I feel like today I have contributed to poverty, and unemployment, and the housing crisis, and a million other social problems. But, hey, it just wasn't a good fit. But if you know anyone in the NYC area, who works in social services or would like to, who needs a job, send them my way.
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The Olympics....I LOVE the Olympics. Especially the summer ones. Gymnastics, and fencing, and diving, and swimming. But I am, as are most people, bothered by the human rights record of the host country. I might have the same issue if the United States were hosting. And so up until the moment I turned it on, I was debating whether I could watch. But I gave in, and the Opening Ceremonies are amazing. But the commentary provided to the announcers is pretty propagandistic, and it is difficult, if not impossible, to forget the images of the families of children killed in an earthquake who were punished for wanting answers to why their schools were so unsafe, and destruction of the Tibetan state. And the abject poverty that is being hidden from the public eye, in the interest of an immense sporting event.

But then the Olympics offer people hope. And we're all about hope. The images of the man who carried the American flag into the stadium tonight, who is one of the Lost Boys of the Sudan. He tells a story about running to restaurant 5 miles away to watch the Olympics on a black and white television, and knowing that he wanted to be there. When I watch the Olympics, I rarely cheer for the Americans (unless they're the swimmers because half of them seem to have gone to UT). I generally cheer for the underdog...for countries without professional sports teams. As I've been watching tonight, there was a commercial for Visa (a problem in and of itself) that talks about the unifying nature of the Olympics, how for these few weeks, everyone is watching and cheering, inspired and hopeful. And so we say, "Go World!"

Packing It In.

2008-07-15T12:03:00.006-04:00

When I read all the stories about the lives of our soldiers and the Iraqi soldiers being lost (over 40 in the last 5 days), I begin to wonder what would happen if we just decided to scrap the whole thing and go home. Maybe, hopefully, continue to provide aid and expertise to re-build the infrastructure of their country, as we said we were there to do, but put all the guns and the rockets and the missiles and the soldiers and the jeeps and the hummer-thingys and the tanks on a boat and ship them home. Maybe put the weapons and other accoutrements of war in a museum for future generations to see, and hopefully not use. Send all the soldiers back to their families, give them a year of paid vacation and medical and mental health treatment, and maybe jobs or free college tuition to wherever they decide to go. No applications necessary. Would the Iraqi people maybe be so relieved that we are gone that they would stop killing each other too?

I, too, sing America.

2008-07-04T23:03:00.008-04:00

This year, I decided that I was not going to celebrate the 4th of July. Someone had to work at my office today, so I decided it should be me, the anti-patriot. And my across-the-hall neighbor and I agreed it was the best way to express discontent. So I worked today. And I had no intention of doing anything particularly American (eating apple pie, singing Yankee Doodle Dandy, preempting something imaginary with a war). So I worked, went to visit my homeless friend, and went home. But as the day wore on, it became for me a more serious matter.

You see...the United States of America and I have lately not been getting along so well. My job often requires me to be the bearer of bad news, or to at least be in the room when said bad news is delivered. And that bad news generally comes from, or is due in part to the actions of, the US government. In the past two weeks I have told someone that though they do not make enough money to eat, the US government believes that they get too much money to be given any additional help; I have listened to people speak of losing dozens of friends to AIDS in the 1990s, simply because it wasn't thought important enough for the president to focus on; and have had to let a man know that the US Immigration service believes that despite the fact that he's been sleeping in a park next to the BQE for the last year, he really should have $400 to pay for the replacement Green Card that is required for him to have any hope of getting off the streets.

I do understand the irony of me writing all of my anti-American spiel on the Internet, when if it weren't for the that whole freedom of speech business I would be arrested for such things. But, for the love of all that is good and holy, I am tired. I am so tired of hearing of the supposed good that we're doing for people, when the people who need the most help are allowed to languish. I am tired of listening to the freedoms that we are fighting to give people in the Middle East when I know and see the blatant racism exercised by our government when an immigrant from an Arab country seeks assistance. I am over seeing the supposed freedoms of the market economy destroy scientific integrity in keeping life-saving medication from eradicating diseases that should have never been allowed to flourish so. I am simply tired.

I have spent the last few weeks writing pleading letters in my head to Barack Obama asking what he will do to help with each new issue I run into. I have written, again in my head, countless blog posts calling these things into question. And I have written one very angry and certainly awful poem. I don't know if I am right about these things, or if I am (as one of my co-workers called one of our co-workers) just some white yuppie kid with an education who wants to help for a moment before moving on to something else. But my heart is somewhat broken. And I don't know how to fix it, because I see no triumphant moment in sight. I try to keep hope, because I have to as it is tattooed as a command on my left wrist. But I'm not sure how much more my metaphorical heart can handle.

New York-iversary.

2008-06-24T23:59:00.000-04:00

If I had been writing here 6 years ago, today would probably have been the day that I announced to my five or so readers that I was moving to New York. My best friend had left the weekend before, and had arrived today, and I had decided that it must be done. I would have written from the home of my friend Brian who kept me busy those first few days, as he knew how sad I was that Nathan had left. He would be the one who would listen to me when my uncertainty about this decision waxed and waned. I was so distressed every time I talked to Nathan on the phone, simply not being able to believe that I would see him again in only a few weeks, because really...who just up and moves of New York. I would begin collecting boxes from the HRW Special Projects move to the 7th Floor, but would hold off on packing them for a few more weeks, because REALLY...who just up and moves to New York. I would never believe that this would be permanent, or that my world would be so, so different than what I had anticipated. Or that I would love it this much. Or that there was any way I could’ve survived the things I have lived through here, or the people I have lived with. Or that my world, and the world, would be an entirely different place than it was in June of 2002.

Tonight Nathan and I went with two of my most cherished NYC friends to hear the New York Philharmonic play in Central Park. Enjoying the beautiful music, and the wonderful weather with people I love...the best way to celebrate a 6th New York-iversary.

Catching Up.

2008-06-11T22:16:00.009-04:00

I have no idea why I haven't posted in almost a month. I have only one job. I've actually got a good deal of time on my hands. And I've probably got a good deal to say on the goings on of the World. But yeah...nothing. So now catching up.

(1) I got a new tattoo. Jen TB and I took a field trip to Hand of Glory Tattoo, where I got my first one. And where Jen got my first one. We spent a very nice day in Park Slope...brunch at my favorite diner, got inked by Jeff P. Yea Jeff P.! It is titled Hope in a Box...Arial Narrow. There's no logical reason it's in a box...it's just a design thing.

(2) Obama final wins. Hooray! And now it begins again. I was on a plane back to NYC on Sunday (more about that in (3)) and was sitting next to a family from South Africa. The father asked me about the election, and predicted that McCain will win. I've been told that to people abroad our elections are on par with the latest news about Paris and Nicole and Lindsey and friends. And they too find it absurd that people start campaigning like 2 years before an election and expect to somehow keep our attention. They seem to have little faith in our political system, or in the promise of a new political regime. We've got alot of work to do to restore our country in the eyes of the world.

(3) I took a trip to London last weekend. It was awesome. Crazy fun. I and some friends went to London to celebrate the 30th birthday of our friend, Amanda. It's a beautiful city. Buildings holding the most mundane things, like records and police, were built hundreds of years ago. Our hotel was a 20 minute walk to Big Ben and to Westminster Abbey. And we had an amazing view of the Thames from our hotel rooms...at our 5-star hotel. Friday night we went to Roller Disco, which was off the hook. And Saturday sightseeing and then Saturday night, a Masquerade Ball for Amanda and her friend Abi, jointly celebrating their birthdays. It was great fun and we gained some awesome international friends, who have all promised me a visit to NYC soon. Pictures at left.

Another Question.

2008-05-16T11:06:00.003-04:00

So yesterday when I read the headline that the gay marriage ban in California had been lifted, I was super excited. And then I got an e-mail from a dear friend, who because the ban has been lifted will actually get to marry this summer, rather than his ceremony being merely symbolic. Again, so exciting. But then this morning, perusing the news, it begins again that people are now gearing up to fight the ban to protect marriage from such corruption. So my question is, why does marriage need to be protected from people who love each other committing their lives to each other?

I read this morning, much to my chagrin, that all three candidates are opposed to gay marriage. I understand this as a political decision, but do not understand it as a human decision. Maybe it's because I am not married that I cannot understand why the institution needs to be protected. But under the same vein, if we need to protect marriage from same-sex couples, don't we also need to protect it from divorcing couples, or from people who marry for money or publicity, or from people with tacky wedding dresses? All equally insidious. For real...can someone explain this to me?

All the Time.

2008-05-15T22:42:00.002-04:00

I was reading this story today, and wow...read it and then come back to me. Okay, you're back. Can you imagine spending the rest of your life within 15 feet of a person? That's not 15 yards, that's 15 feet. But then imagine spending the rest of your life within 15 feet of a person. There is no room for anger, or nonchalance, or emotional distance. And there's no electricity, so very few means to distract yourself from that person. Just something to think about.

A Glimmer.

2008-05-06T13:49:00.005-04:00

A few weeks ago, I was asked to write the communion meditation to follow a sermon at CCfB called Love and Concern. I was coming off an incredible night at work and so wrote about some of the people I work with/for.

I have come to believe that all you really need is to survive is a safety net. Most of the people that I find on the street are people who have no one. They lose one piece of their life's puzzle, pieces we all generally take for granted, and everything falls apart. I met a man a few months ago, who is homeless only because he lost his ID. Losing his ID lost him his job, lost him his housing, left him with nowhere to go, and sleeping at the bottom of some stairs in Queens. This man essentially does not exist. No one knows he's there, or that he is in such need, or that he slipped through the cracks so, so easily. He is an immigrant, has survived a war. Has no where, no one to go home to, and so has no home. He is left in limbo, knowing very well that no one should have to live like he is living. Another man I met recently has fallen victim to the same problem, but in a different world. He has lost his partner of 35 years to cancer. And now he too is homeless. He has enough money to get by, and a roof over his head, but the person that made it home is no longer there. He has no one to take care of him when he is sick, or to listen to him when he is sad, or angry, frightened, or excited.

I believe we have all encountered such people in our daily lives, or have maybe felt this ourselves. The moment you step off the plane, or park your moving truck, and know that you are just one in a city of millions. Or maybe in a child who has suddenly been moved to this country, without any knowledge of language or culture. Or in a young person growing up in poverty, feeling that there is no way out. Or someone suddenly single after they thought that part of their life was over. Or suddenly faced with an illness that threatens to take their life, or that of someone they love. And suddenly we are each left standing alone, wondering what to do next. Knowing that it should not be this way. Knowing that we should not go unprotected, uncared for.

But when we stop to catch our breath, we remember that are not unprotected. Though it is at times obscured by our panic, we are covered by the hand of God, given shelter in these times. Given community among God’s people to know that we are not alone. And we know that in the end, we are covered by grace, and will be given a place of rest.

I must confess to you, that sometimes when I write these seemingly inspired things, I do it really just hoping that it will be true. As evidenced by my previous post, I've been struggling a bit lately. I was discussing this last week with my logical voice in Queens, and he told me that I need to quit my job and go work in a bank. I have realized that I get to a point of overwhelm about every 6 months. Due to the ridiculous amount of work I've been doing lately, I lasted about 9 months this time. I get to the point where cannot escape all of the trauma and chaos I experience with people all the time, and where I cannot see an end to it. I begin to selfishly and whole-heartedly hope for the apocalypse, because really....could it be any worse? But then, this week, a glimmer of hope.

On Sunday night, I got a call from a man living in the neighborhood of a client that I had been looking for for a couple of weeks. This man lives in the neighborhood and gets his coffee everyday from the Dunkin' Donuts where my client stands outside for most of his days. They had been speaking, and my client had mentioned that I had been trying to help him and asked that this man give me a call. So I get this call, and my world is rocked. Part of overwhelm is coloured by martyrdom..."I'm the only who cares. No one else is trying to do anything. These people will die...DIE...if I, and I alone, don't help them." But then, someone, whose job it is not to help people in this man's situation, calls and wants to help me help him. New York will never cease to amaze me.

***DISCLAIMER***I realize that some of you might be puzzled/bothered by the fact that I am really excited, rather than freaked out, at the prospect of a random man getting my phone number from a homeless person. Just know that this is neither the most dangerous, nor the craziest, thing that I have done in the course of my job. Fear not, all work takes place in well-lit public spaces with co-workers nearby.

Full.

2008-04-28T20:35:00.004-04:00

I was reading the blog of a blog friend today, and he talks about being empty. No reserves of wit or wisdom. No ideas. Unable to make any movements. I read this and thought to myself, "Is this my problem?" But then no. I feel like my problem is the opposite. I am full. Fullness is sometimes good. A full heart. A full stomach. But not really this kind. This is more the kind of fullness that you get from...I don't know...a key lime pie eating competition. You like...no, love key lime pie. So you eat some, and then eat some more, and it's a contest, so you quickly eat some more. You're kind of gasping for breath now, but you've gotta keep going. It's for a trophy, and you love trophies almost as much as key lime pie. And it's over...you've won. But now you really don't want anymore key lime pie...ever, ever again. The analogy loses something along the way, but you get the idea. Fullness that starts with something you love, and ends up making you very, very ill...and maybe a little bit sad that you couldn't just say no.

I do the work I do because I love it. I started out in one area and loved that, but then saw a need in another area. So I started working there, but maintained ties to the first group of people I worked with. But then the job I had became something other than what it should've been, and I needed an outlet (or another job) to make me feel like I don't need to just scrap it all and start over. I got that job, and I loved that job, and that job was awesome. I felt like I was doing something great for people. And it gave me the experience I needed to be able to move on from my awful job. So I'm working, and working, and working. Directing a worthwhile program, providing support to a community that is very important to me, helping people move in off the street. And I love it. I feel like I am doing, or at least attempting to do, everything I possibly can. But then I go on like that for about 9 months. My brain fills up piece by piece. If you were to draw a picture of my brain right now and label all of the nouns (ie. people, places and things) that are occupying space in my head, I do believe that there would be not one vacant space at this point in time.

So last week, I was laid off from my second job. We had a reorganization about two months ago, and in doing that they did away with all of the part-time spots...one of which was mine. But they had no one to work my shifts, so I and my co-workers were kept on until we were no longer needed. Kind of like Survivor. Last Tuesday, I got a call saying that they had found someone to fill my spot and I would have two more weeks. You're thinking "Hooray! You get to sleep and maybe see your friends and meet new people." And that is what I had hoped to think. But the Friday before all of this, I made a significant break through with a client who has refused to work with anyone. We were on our way!!! And now, I'm going away. And suddenly the space this man had taken up in my head expands, and occupies what was taken up by an assortment of everyday things. And now I'm feeling a bit paralyzed. So I go to my more logic inner voices for help. But sadly the logical voices don't really reside in my head, but in Queens, and Hoboken, and Boerum Hill, and San Francisco. I call them and e-mail them to distract me, and to advise me, and to help me realize that it's not all on me. They offer a listening ear, a bit of advice, an amazing lot of help. I hope to maybe be bit less full soon. Hopefully, not empty. But existing in a place where there is room for newness, but also for the old to expand.

Things Worth Reading.

2008-04-26T20:07:00.004-04:00

Randomness to read...

(1) A fantastic list.

(2) An article.

(3) And an editorial.

Between the Lines.

2008-04-12T15:49:00.004-04:00

In Social Work school, we talk alot about boundaries. It's a very difficult thing to figure out. Social work (for me anyway) is like 1 part psychology, 1 part systems knowledge, 4 parts activism, and like 57 parts empathic heart. And each work setting comes with a different set of standards, and thus a different set of rules. I'm very strident about my boundaries, because I feel that it is the only way to do the work that I do. But every now and then, there is someone who steps through.

I've decided that work boundaries are kind of like a dotted line. Chunks of solid space with gaps in between (kind of like a border fence, or the ozone layer). It goes along for quite some time, impervious and stoic. But then all of a sudden there is a huge unfortified space. For me this comes in the form of very young people newly diagnosed with HIV; in patients who remind me of people I love; in people who I feel have been left behind too many times; in people who are essentially being told that in the eyes of people who matter, they do not exist. I find myself worrying all the time about where they might be, or how it is that we are going to overcome these obstacles, or how it is that I am going to keep them from slipping away again. I battle in my head with how far I am willing to go before I put up a wall and say "I'm sorry. This is as far as my vocation allows me to go. Bless you on your journey." And then I battle in my head to not feel guilty for stopping short. These are the times when I am thankful that I have a roommate. Otherwise, I might have bunkbeds full of homeless people sleeping in my living room. And Marcus just would not like that.

2008-04-09T22:16:00.009-04:00

So it's that time again. It's AIDS Walk time. And again this year, I'm walking with my amazing friends at Christ's Church for Brooklyn.

When I set out to be a social worker, it was because I wanted to work with people living with AIDS. It took me a long time to pin down the reason why I was moved to do this. But now, some 7 years later (if you count the pre-New York volunteering days), it's clear to me that it is the scale and scope of this thing. AIDS never should've happened. If the first people affected by AIDS had been upper or middle class, heterosexual, white Americans, it never would've been allowed to get so far before a movement was made to stop it. If ground zero hadn't been a place already so abused by colonialism and greed. If in the United States, it had decimated populations other than those already marginalized and voiceless.

So now what? Now, it is time to move. Now, it is time for justice, and for everyone to be taken care of as they should've been long ago. It is time for us to stand up. To speak out. And on May 18th, to come together and walk. Please join us.

A Little Perspective.

2008-03-19T21:55:00.006-04:00

I watched a documentary a few weeks ago, called No End In Sight. It is fairly obvious from the title that this film is about the War in Iraq. I have officially entered the anger stage where the war is concerned. This film is from the perspective of the military and diplomatic advisers who were supposed to manage the war in a logical way, making it possible that it would quickly be over, and that the loss of life would be limited. There were actually plans in place for rebuild the infrastructure of Iraq, and to truly bring about democracy...imagine that. And thus, the anger. I've got nothing left to offer.

But last week, I read an article written by a man named Omar Al-Rikabi. He is a pastor in Arkansas, has an American mother and his father is from the Middle East, so his perspective is a bit different. His article says more than I could ever say.

The Blogs I Would've Written.

2008-03-15T00:27:00.004-04:00

Over the past couple of months, I've thought to write several possibly good blogs, but am working like 8 days a week, so yeah...I haven't gotten around to it. So without further ado the list of blogs I would've written had I not had so many jobs.

(1) A blog entitled, The Girlification of Casey B., titled after for some reason The Emancipation of Mimi, Mariah Carey's first album coming off of crazy. This was to be about the fact that I had stated in my 29th birthday blog that this would be the year that I would become outwardly edgy, but think that I have done all I can (tattoo--check; piercing--check; funky-ish haircut dyed slightly red--check; having begun and ended an undefinable relationship with a man my parents would soooo not approve of--check, check and check). So I decided this might be the year I allow myself to be slightly girly instead. I'll let you know how that goes.

(2) Eat, Pray, Love. A birthday gift from a dear friend, and the most recent book for me to have a love-hate-mostly-love relationship with. I'm seriously ashamed of how much I love this book. It's also part of #1, as it is by far the most female-centric, non-feminist book I've ever read.

(3) An exposition on the reorganization of a non-profit, because it wasn't making a profit...and the subsequent laying-off of myself and my other part-time colleagues. (This is the 2nd job. No need to panic.) And the oddity of working for the people who laid you off, so they'll be covered until they can find someone to replace you.

(4) A small discussion of the resignation of my governor. For some reason, the thing that bothered me the most about it all was the image of his wife standing stoically by his side while he humiliated her by telling the world that he spent tens of thousands of their dollars on other women. The government will recover, but I doubt that his family ever will.

(5) And my new favorite web site, Stuff White People Like. It's funny, 'cause it's true.

I've got a bunch of other stuff brewing. Hopefully, it won't all come out in list form. Peace out.

Drinking the Kool-Aid.

2008-03-04T21:38:00.006-05:00

So, as you can probably guess from my posting of multiple Obama media/art pieces, I've got the fever. I cannot express my excitement at the prospect of Barack Obama having any chance of becoming our next president. Though I haven't spoken to many of them, I've been telepathically influencing the votes of my Texan friends, sending them 'Yes, We Can. Yes, We Can.' chants. And so far, they have not disappointed. People I never expected to depart from the Right, simply because they've always rested there, have indeed done so.

I was reading back on some of my previous posts about war and politics, using the little tag thingys at the bottom, and I came upon one I wrote last November about Bobby Kennedy, and his speech The Mindless Menace of Violence. In this post, I mused about the hope and potential that Bobby Kennedy held in his hands, and wondered if this would ever happen for my generation. I believe that it has. I'm hoping for an audacious hope to reign. For our want for a better world to overpower our need for dominance, and the drives of capitalist culture. I guess, we shall see....

We Are The Ones We've Been Waiting For....

2008-03-02T19:20:00.003-05:00

(Life).

2008-02-26T22:13:00.004-05:00

I loved My So-Called Life. Absolutely loved it, but we only had one TV in my house (the horror) and so I never got to watch, until the 24-hour marathons my freshman year of college. I would watch with my across-the-hall dorm neighbor Rachel, and then go to my room and watch. And then wake up in the morning, and go back to watch with Rachel. It was glorious. Glorious. But was only on for a season. And I was way, waaaay too old (at the age of 19) to be watching a show about teenage angst.

So today, I am blissed out at the premiere of quarterlife (lower-case for hippness), brought to us by the creators of My So-Called Life. I heart angsty television. And though I'm no longer a 25 year-old aspiring artist, I love their lives. The lead character said early on in the show, speaking of my generation, (paraphrased) "We were geniuses when we were in elementary school, and now no one seems to remember that." I feel this way sometimes. I want to scream "Do you understand who you're talking to here? I got straight As in elementary school. I got 3rd place in the spelling bee three years in a row. I was the Knowledge Master/Quiz Bowl Champion. And I was in the Top 10% of my high school class, BTW. Listen to me!" I ask myself, "When did my life become mediocre?"

I've mostly exited my angsty, artsy phase. But I like to remember it sometimes...and think what it might have been like if I hadn't somewhat sold out to the idea of health insurance and sustained dependable income.

F- You Valentine's Day!

2008-02-14T10:55:00.004-05:00

Okay, so my dislike for this holiday is probably not quite that strong, but I feel the need to restore some of my street cred after I spent much of my morning walking down 5th Avenue carrying a brightly colored balloon bouquet. But I felt I must lodge my complaint against the Valentine-Industrial complex.

There Has Never Been Anything False About Hope.

2008-02-03T22:12:00.000-05:00

Job Update.

2008-01-30T19:25:00.000-05:00

So I'm in the middle of my third week at the new job, and it is brilliant. Everyone is nice to me. No one has mocked me for my quietness, my ideals or my shoes. I feel respected and valued and all that stuff you should feel at work. The neighborhood is great...my bank is three blocks away, there's a Starbucks directly across the street, and there are all sorts of fun/healthy restaurants nearby. The learning curve for the job is pretty steep, so I'm not doing alot of client work yet, but will be soon. Today I met the man who was my predecessor. And he turns out to be someone I saw speak at a seminar I went to a couple of years ago. Really that seminar and this man's words changed the way I thought about my work, and increased my convictions that the system I was working within was in many ways furthering the problems of many of my clients. I am very honored to be filling this man's shoes, as much as that is possible.

But sadly there is a downside to the new job. My commute is so short that I'm a bit behind on my reading. And it takes me two commutes to listen to an episode of This American Life. If only I could find a way to spend more time on the train...

Picking Sides.

2008-01-25T13:25:00.003-05:00

I still have two more weeks to make my primary election decision, but today the New York Times has made theirs (here and here). Though I'm not sure that I fully agree, I am moved by their arguments and particularly enjoyed the paragraphs in which they reem Rudy Guiliani (who my father has repeatedly threatened to vote for as a means to get a rise out of me.) But then there's this, serving to continue my indecision.

Figuring it out.

2008-01-20T23:39:00.000-05:00

Originally written for communion meditation at CCfB on 1.20.2008:

It is only recently that I learned that my belief system was an actual belief system, rather than simply a coping mechanism. I did not know that there was Universalism outside of the Unitarian Church, which I contemplated joining at a theologically desperate point in my life. I came to Universalism circuitously, having simply lost the ability to worry about salvation any more.

My religious background is much like most of yours. I was raised in the Church of Christ, baptized when I was 14 at church camp, because that was what the kids in my youth group did. I don’t think I even grasped what my baptism was supposed to have been about until I had a crisis of faith in my early 20s. But then as I thought about it more, I began to wonder if I was truly saved. So I went to retreats and on missions to Mexico, to Bible studies and devotionals. I wept many, many tears in the interest of finding what I thought was missing. Then I got a second job, which is often the case with me. I began working for the newspaper at UT in hopes of finding a career after I decided not to teach. I edited and designed the paper sometimes 5 nights a week and I began missing Sunday night and Wednesday night church in the interest of this endeavor. But what I found at the paper was what I had been searching for. As I edited, I read every story in every section of the paper. I started reading the New York Times, and the BBC, and watching a constant stream of news, as to stay informed about what should go on my page. One night in particular stands out in my head as a turning point in my thinking about God and salvation and redemption. That summer, there were several executions covered by our paper, but one in particular got national coverage--the execution of a man named Gary Graham. The eyewitness testimony had been called into question and this case was being appealed to every level, up until the final seconds. And because of where I was on this particular day, I watched it unfold. Hearing the story of this man and his crime, the pain of his victims and their families, the distinct possibility that an innocent man was set to die, I was shaken. I could not help but think about the value of his life, of the consequences of his actions set in motion by circumstances far beyond his control, and about the state and destination of his soul. And over the months that followed, these questions only persisted and multiplied. How can a person trapped in the cycles of poverty and marginalization in this country be expected to find God when they have no hope? Why is it that so many people I love are instantly condemned for things that are intrinsically part of who they are? How is it that a person a world away, who has never known peace, can be expected to accept our narrow vision of God?

These questions being far too large for my 21 year-old mind to handle, I decided to stop trying to understand it. Instead, I decided to focus on what I could do. Volunteering at various places, getting wrapped up in the issues that moved me, which led me to a career change and has entirely changed my perspective. With each new person that I meet in my work and in life, it becomes clearer to me the value of every human life. And when I look at the view of Christianity that I was taught from my earliest memories, there is no longer room for me there. I firmly believe that we do ourselves a great injustice by living our lives simply to stay out of Hell. There is nothing man can do to earn a place in Heaven, and under the same umbrella of grace, there is nothing man can do to fall out of God’s favor. For me, once I realized this and was able to stop worrying about my own salvation, and about winning souls for Jesus with the five steps and the multicolored bracelets and the fliers and strategically placed information tables and the fun, but salvific, events, I was able to more fully be who God intended me to be. An imperfect being, in a far from perfect world, who has been known to do and say outlandish things, who has a definite penchant for the radical and is probably wrong about so many things. But who is striving to live her life in love, to do what is best and to know that God wholly loves us for who we wholly are. That we are all covered by grace and by this grace we are free.

Campaign 2024.

2008-01-10T10:00:00.001-05:00

Let me just say that I heart Hilary Clinton. I always have. Even during the first Clinton election in 1992, though such things were probably not allowed to be stated in my vastly Republican Junior High school, I had a secret appreciation for her. Hilary and I have special bond. She is the only person I've ever voted for who actually was elected. So I heart her and support her and hope she wins this thing. That being said, I have some problems. I am supremely bothered by the fact that her tears are reason for news stories and op-eds (though they're both really good op-eds) and blogs and tirades by drunken subway riders. If John McCain, talking to a group of people at a restaurant, had expressed his exhaustion and had to pause for a moment because he is under a considerable amount of stress, there would be no stories titled 'War Hero breaks down in Diner'.

As a crier myself, I am bothered, very bothered, by the perception of tears as a sign of weakness. I am not fragile. I can and will destroy you in a verbal fight. And then I might go into the other room and cry. Or I might cry right there. But my words will still be the same. Despite cracks in my voice or tears in my eyes, there is still power in my ideals and my actions will still hold the same meaning. This is simply an emotional response to a difficult situation. No one was ever thought weak for raising their voice during an emotionally charged conversation. The same should be said here.

That being said, I have some other election related problems. I heart Hilary, but I also heart Barack Obama. His message of hope and driving change appeal to my radical tendencies. And the things he has called for are not outlandishly idealistic, but simply show great movement in what I believe is the right direction. And I'm bothered by Hilary's votes for use of force in Iraq and Iran, and the fact that both she and Obama support the construction of the Border Fence, and the death penalty, and have not made a stand for equal marriage rights. I'm kind of ridiculous when it comes to my politics. I'm looking for change with such fervor that I am brought to tears any time I hear or read a speech by either candidate, especially Obama. So I'm looking for someone to tell me which way to go. I don't like picking a lesser evil without outside guidance.

I have for a long time now said that I am planning a run for president. I'm eligible for the presidency as of 2018, so any time after that all bets are off. My best friend told me last week that he would certainly vote for me, as I have good experience in the public service and he agrees with my positions on most things (though he is not always comfortable with my penchant for the radical). My campaign will be about bringing humanity and honesty back to politics (or possibly to politics for the fist time). This means not avoiding issues because they are controversial or difficult; not talking in circles to avoid stating an definitive opinion or admitting fault. The slogan on my backdrops and my podiums will be 'Just stop it. You're being ridiculous.' People get ready. There's a train a-coming.

A Threat.

2008-01-09T14:09:00.001-05:00

I got a Yahoo! alert on a story about the current conflict between Iran and the U.S., regarding a "he said, she said" fight about some ships. GW is reported to have called Iran "a threat to world peace." This is one of the statements that just makes me want to call GW up. "For real?," I'd say, "You are calling someone a 'threat to world peace'. Really? Really?" He is soooo lucky his number is unlisted.

Did I Forget to Mention...

2007-12-22T21:02:00.000-05:00

That I Got A New Job?!?!?!?! Wooooo...WooHoo! Oow! Woot!

As of January 11th, I will no longer be at my crappy, crappy job. I am the new assistant director of a program downtown, which will take like 3 hours a day off my commute, and will save what is left of my vocational sanity. Woot!

On Joy...

2007-12-18T12:52:00.000-05:00

On Sunday, my family unit (consisting of Nathan and Wilber, and myself) was asked to light the advent candle representing joy. I was at first very grateful to be at a church that acknowledges the importance of these people in my life. And then was glad for our candle to be the candle of joy. [The first week of Advent, Nathan was highly, highly amused that my first instinct for the candles was "Hope, Peace, Love and Happiness," the order of the last three being a kickback from my hippie days when I used to sign everything with a peace sign, heart and smiley face and sign my name with a flower at the end of it.]

Joy has been an elusive thing for me. I tend to dwell in all the murky and mucky parts of life, and think that I am failing at something because I have yet to find happiness, which is joy, which is of God. But then something has changed within me as of late. I have begun to realize that joy is something different. That it can be found in the midst of sorrow, exhaustion and worry. That it can bring with it peace, and hope, and is found where love is present. On my way to church on Sunday morning, exhausted from having worked the previous night in the mounting snow, I sat on the train and thought about what it was that we were about to read to the church. And I thought of the days of laughter spent with friends celebrating holidays and birthdays and Tuesdays. Of the glimmers of hope with difficult patients, and of people in my life who see and understand what it is that I am trying to do. So as the holidays, and the New Year approach, I continue to seek the joy in life, to know that contentment may be better than happiness, and to look to the coming days with hope that it can only get better. Peace to you.

29.

2007-12-18T00:14:00.001-05:00

Moments ago the day passed away that marked my 29th birthday. I confess I have been dreading this day. As I said with 28, I don't age well. The numbers really bother me, and I often feel like there are milestones one should reach at certain points in time. So, that's one of the things I've been working on this year. Learning to be content where I am, knowing that God is at work in my life and that I am where I am supposed to be and am doing what I am supposed to be doing. So the highlights of 28, in no particular order...

(1) Decided not to go to my high school reunion, without guilt or strain.

(2) Started teaching Sunday school. Granted most weeks there is only one kid in my class, but she is maybe my favorite kid so it's good. And it provides me with levity that my life is often lacking...and opportunities to sing 'the Noah Song' (as seen on Ugly Betty) at the top of my lungs and to discuss the actual location of Santaland (which is neither in Zimbabwe nor in New Jersey).

(3) Got the tattoo I've wanted since I was 20 or so.

(4) Found the job that is the reason I became a social worker, and it is nothing like I thought it would be. I am exhausted and at times overwhelmed by the gravity of it, but I know that I am doing something good and worthwhile.

(5) Reconnected with friends I have dearly missed.

(6) Made new friends who I adore.

(7) Celebrated a 10th Friendiversary (or friendship anniversary).

(8) Have fully moved on, and started over.

(9) Have begun to let go...just a little bit.

I've decided that 29 will be the year I become outwardly edgy. Don't ask why, as I have no idea. And I'm not sure yet what this will include, but I'll let you know as it progresses.

Act Up.

2007-11-30T15:53:00.001-05:00

A few months ago, there was an article in the Times about rising HIV infection rates among young men in NYC. It is a very disturbing statistical marvel.

"Over a five-year period, the number of new H.I.V. diagnoses in men under the age of 30 who have sex with other men increased by 33 percent, to 499 in 2006 from 374 in 2001. During the same period, the infection rate for men over 30 decreased by 22 percent."

There was an article in Forbes today citing the same statistics, but on a national level. This is just inexplicable and so, so disturbing. I am occupationally, and by my very nature, not a finger pointer, but in most cases there is no reason for these increases to be the case. When you read the literature, the increases in infection rates among young men who have sex with men are explained by the fact that HIV is now seen by many as a treatable chronic disease, and that many people believe there is a cure, or at least one on the horizon. Therefore, it is believed that there is no need for vigilance.

For some reason, as of late, I find myself swathed in plays related to the early days of the AIDS epidemic. First it was the watching, and rewatching, of Angels in America, which is beautiful and amazing, and I believe one of the great masterpieces of modern theatre (despite the fact that it is like days long). And then in an effort to buy this play at a discounted rate, I came upon The Normal Heart, another brilliant play written at the beginnings of the epidemic about the activism and utter desperation of this time.

Tomorrow is World AIDS Day. It is a time when communities take pause to remember those they have lost to the epidemic, and renew our dedication to stopping this. Nothing frightens me more than thinking about what this disease can do to someone, about the prospect of this happening to someone I love. But really when this happens to one of us, it happens to all of us.

For Love of Snuffleupagus.

2007-11-20T14:51:00.000-05:00

There are many days when I believe the world, or at lease my part of the world, has become a parody of itself. Today there is an article in the Times about Sesame Street. The powers that be have come to decided that the early, pre-Elmo, episodes of Sesame Street are not suitable for children.

"The show rolled, and the sweet trauma came flooding back. What they did to us was hard-core. Man, was that scene rough. The masonry on the dingy brownstone at 123 Sesame Street, where the closeted Ernie and Bert shared a dismal basement apartment, was deteriorating. Cookie Monster was on a fast track to diabetes. Oscar’s depression was untreated. Prozacky Elmo didn’t exist."

It's a sad, sad state of affairs when you have to subversively introduce your children to the Cookie Monster who is actually a monster with a great love of cookies, the Oscar who is allowed to just be grouchy without being diagnosable, and the Big Bird is allowed to have a very large friend who no one else sees. We miss you, Snuffy.

Listen.

2007-11-19T11:01:00.000-05:00

Have I said before that I love my church? And by love, I mean LOVE. This group of people is what keeps me going from week to week, day to day. They never tell me I work too much, because they know why I'm doing it. Or that I should settle with the job I have, though I am somewhat miserable. They brunch, and lunch, and dinner with me. And Halloween, and Thanksgiving, and Christmas. We sing, and pray, and walk, and protest, and eat with great joy. And now you can listen along, and know some of the reasons why Christ's Church for Brooklyn has become so, so important to so many of us. Click here for our podcasts.

Norman Mailer.

2007-11-12T14:59:00.000-05:00

On Saturday night, as I was starting my shift at job #2, I opened up the New York Times for a quick glimpse at what had happened as I slept the day away. I was very sad to find that Norman Mailer had passed away. He is the author of one of my favorite books, The Gospel According to the Son, and one of the most interesting people I've ever held audience for. I saw him speak last winter when he was promoting his book The Castle in the Forest. His writing was seen as revolutionary for the way he portrayed war in The Naked and the Dead, making him a part of the new movement of creative non-fiction. I feel like people like him don't exist anymore. People assured enough to write the things he wrote, such momentous material with such confidence. To run for the mayor of New York on a secession ticket. To (allegedly) head-butt Truman Capote.

The Good Fight.

2007-11-05T11:55:00.001-05:00

I received an e-mail a few days ago from the NYU School of Social Work asking for volunteers to speak on a panel of recent SW graduates for the 2nd year students at NYU. The presentation is to be entitled "I Wish I Knew Then What I am About to Tell You Now". I laughed hardily when I read this (as NYU and did not have the best experience with each other) and passed this on to a school friend (who also laughed hardily). On one of my bus rides this week, I spent alot of time (as it was long bus ride) thinking about what it is that I would say to these students, on the cusp on entering this field.

I have come to realize after doing this work fo a few years, that about every six months I hit a valley. It is what we in the biz call "Compassion Fatigue." Really, that's just the polite way of saying that I am so tired of being shat on from every direction (very graphic, I know). I am always hesitant to actually speak about the work that I do, because I feel there is a danger of making me look like a saint or a martyr. This is not what I want. I did not choose this work, I feel. It chose me. A friend of mine recently wrote to me (paraphrased and taken entirely out of context) "Casey, you've been through alot of shit in your life." I have, there's no way around that. And because of this, my head works in a different way than it otherwise would. I am ever-aware of the sadness and desperation around me and at times if feels like I am drowning in it. And I have used my work as a means to learn how to swim, or to at least tread water.

I wrote this a few weeks ago...

According to our friends at Wikipedia (who know everything) "[compassion fatigue] results from the taxing nature of showing compassion for someone whose suffering is continuous and unresolvable. One may still care for the person as required by policy, however, the natural human desire to help them is no longer there." I don't know if this actually describes what I'm feeling, but it's a bit of this. I'll give you an example, albeit an extreme example, of one of my days. A couple of weeks ago, I went to work at my full-time job and did that, openly discussed the perceived mental illness of a patient who I believe to have been manipulating me for weeks and others in the system for years, was told that the fact that I am reserved and not that social with my co-workers makes me a bad social worker, and then went home to take a nap before going to my second job. Then an hour later, I woke up and went to work. At work that night I picked up four people from the street and took them to shelters, some of these places among the most horrific I've ever seen. Then I went home and slept for a couple of hours, and as this was Saturday I went to work at my food coop. Instead of my office job, I ended up working at a soup kitchen which was drastically understaffed. After working two hours longer than I was scheduled to, I went to get on the train to go see friends in Hoboken to watch a football game that UT would then lose. As I was swiping my card to get on the train, a man asked me if I had a quarter. I did not and I said so honestly. He asked me if I had anything else, and I reached into my pocket where I had three pennies. I said "All I've got is three pennies." and I handed it to him. I do understand that three pennies is very little to give someone, and it really won't get you much of anything, but still it is something. But as I walked away, I heard the man throw my pennies on the ground and walk away to ask someone else for a quarter. I was furious. I may or may not have called him an asshole. I don't know if this is excusable or not, but that was my breaking point. I had spent roughly 24 of the previous 36 hours working with the homeless. I was terribly exhausted, as I had slept about 4 hours in that time. And I had more than once been told that what I was giving was not enough when I knew most assuredly that I could give no more.

And then the valley got a bit deeper and I lost it a little. I yelled at my boss (my version of yelling, which isn't really yelling as I don't yell). I heaved and sobbed, within an inch of quitting my job. And then I started, once again, looking for new work. As I am a part-time worker at my second job, I am weekly meeting new people. I am a fresh set of ears to listen to the struggles of this start-up and of many of the young people that work there, and have heard the things that I feel almost constantly in my day-to-day job.

"This shouldn't be so hard."
"Why are social workers so crazy?"
"I can't really survive on what they're paying me."
"I don't know how much longer I can do this. I really wanted to help, but I feel like I'm getting no where."

And so now, this is what I would say if I were to speak to the NYU School of Social Work Class of 2008.

(1) Know that this work will always be difficult, but there are days when it is amazing. Store those up for when things seem impossible. But know that it's okay to move on to a different kind of work. Social work has a million different facets. Try something new, but don't give up. If you feel compelled to struggle on, the profession needs you.

(2) I have no idea why social workers are so crazy. I hope and pray that I don't turn, but think it may have already happened.

(3) I have decided, in my advanced age (I turn 29 next month), that there are very few people in the world who are paid what they are actually worth. Some are paid far too much for the work they do, but most are paid far too little. Know that you are in good company. And keep looking for a second job (or wealthy spouse) with which to pay off your student loans.

(4) As said in #1, know that if you feel compelled to struggle on, we need you here. When we stop feeling the need to fight back for the good of our clients, that is when we need to find a different career all together. I've met many people along the way who have reach this point and kept on going, because this is their chosen career and they are looking for nothing but security. They are the people who create the social work battlefields. All of us dodging the bullets of negativity, and distrust, the arbitrary choosing who is friend and who is foe. And making us all feel like we're going crazy. Know that you are not alone here. And that once I am a supervisor there will be a day of reckoning [=)], and you can all come work for me. Or for some of my wonderful social service friends and mentors. There are a few us left fighting the good fight.

Some Solace.

2007-11-01T13:53:00.000-04:00

So I haven't really written anything of substance in a while, but I've got some stuff in the works. Don't worry. Until then, an article to read. It is about the perceptions of women at work, in leadership roles, and not. And if you've spoken to me to any depth in the past two weeks you know that I am struggling a bit (really more than a bit) with this. So an article...Not so encouraging, but at least providing a bit of solace.

An Explanation.

2007-10-26T13:26:00.000-04:00

In one of my time killing efforts, while watching television and surfing the Web from my couch, I decided to take the following personality test. Apparently, I am like 1% of the population, thus explaining why I am so terribly misunderstood. =)

This week.

2007-10-19T16:36:00.000-04:00

So just a few things...

(1) This week someone called me frivolous. They didn't really call me frivolous, but they essentially called me frivolous. I got mad. "How dare you call me frivolous?" I said. "There's no one less frivolous than me." And then I replayed in my head many of the conversations I have had with friends over the last few weeks, many of them about shoes, Britney Spears, and various pieces of TV drama, and thought "Whatever."

(2) I was reading an article today about how Watson, of Watson and Crick who discovered the DNA double helix, had been suspended from his job for some decidedly racist comments he made. At first I thought, "Wow. This is PC gone entirely too far. Just leave him alone. He's old." And then I read more of the article and thought, "Okay, so maybe he should watch what he says just a bit." And then I read more of it and decided that, though his belief that stupidity is a treatable disease would be a very funny SNL sketch, it's probably best that he just goes home.

(3) Did you know Crayola makes a color called 'Purple Mountain's Majesty'? I saw it today and was shocked by the nationalism.

For the Bible Tells Me So.

2007-10-09T13:27:00.001-04:00

A few weeks ago, in one of my activism e-mails, I received word of a documentary, called For the Bible Tells Me So, coming out about the relationship between the Church and the GLBT community. Aside from having what my best friend and I agreed is the creepiest trailer ever (Watch here. Just imagine the little girl sitting in the dark in a clapboard house playing with a scary doll.), the film looked very interesting.

I went to see it yesterday at a theatre in Chelsea. With films like this, one of the most intriguing things about it is the audience. The film is a collection of stories of religious families who have children who are gay or lesbian. One of these families is the family of Senator Dick Gephardt, and one is the family of Gene Robinson, who was elected the first gay bishop of the Episcopal church in 2003. The others are everyday people who have dealt with this extraordinary conflict in their lives with extraordinary love for their children.

Another part of the film is theologians speaking to the question of what the Bible truly says about homosexuality. Though they do not speak in the film, we hear the words of James Dobson, and Jerry Falwell, and Jimmy Swaggart. Awful, awful stuff not to be repeated here. But then you hear from Bishop Desmond Tutu. He says in so many words that we, when we focus so much on condemning people for the perceived sin of being gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered, are going against the fundamental message of Christ. That God never condemned someone for being oppressed. That God did not condemn African Americans for being enslaved, or women for being subjugated, or Blacks in Africa for being crushed by Apartheid. And just the same, He does not condemn our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters either.

"Jesus did not say, 'If I be lifted up I will draw some'." Jesus said, 'If I be lifted up I will draw all, all, all, all, all. Black, white, yellow, rich, poor, clever, not so clever, beautiful, not so beautiful. It's one of the most radical things. All, all, all, all, all, all, all, all. All belong. Gay, lesbian, so-called straight. All, all are meant to be held in this incredible embrace that will not let us go. All."--Desmond Tutu

A List.

2007-10-03T13:15:00.000-04:00

Casey (is (a(n))/ was (a(n))/ has (a(n))...

100. Properly punctuates text messages.
99. Not girly.
98. Recently tatooed.
97. Planning another.
96. Over-employed.
95. Cries at commercials.
94. Cries at movies.
93. Cries at everything.
92. Hearts Neil Patrick Harris.
91. Not competitive.
90. Good at Trivial Pursuit.
89. Planning to go on a game show.
88. Writing a book.
87. Writing a play.
86. Prefers to take as few trains as possible.
85. Never leaving Bklyn.
84. Laughs loudly.
83. Involved in too many Internet communities.
82. Always capitalizes Internet.
81. Fiercely liberal.
80. A Straight ally.
79. Impeccable memory.
78. Messy bedroom.
77. Laundry procrastinator.
76. Longhorn.
75. Texan Expat.
74. Random gift giver.
73. Has been known to expertly mime a colorguard routine.
72. Friendship maintainer.
71. Prefers to walk.
70. Distractable.
69. Starbucks Junkie.
68. Surprised at how many grown men play Dungeons and Dragons.
67. Obsessively informed.
66. Voracious reader.
65. Acupuncture convert.
64. Watches alot of crime drama.
63. Book snob.
62. Music lover.
61. Afraid of the dark.
60. Never left North America.
59. Understands, but afraid to speak, Spanish.
58. Allergic.
57. Carries a very big purse.
56. Enjoys the fact that the mullet is making a comeback.
55. Overwhelmed by noisy rooms, loud talkers.
54. Will judge a man by his shoes.
53. Loves Post-Its.
52. Believer in Revolution.
51. Hoping to someday have an FBI file.
50. Owns an eye patch.
49. Read On the Road while on the road.
48. Said to have entropic hair.
47. Rents.
46. Sings.
45. Types with perfect Jr. High typing class form.
44. Good listener.
43. Empathic heart.
42. Quickly frustrated.
41. Will listen to the same song over and over and over.
40. Goes to the movies alone.
39. Convinced that the Statue of Liberty (Joan) is wearing Doc Martens.
38. Bad with money.
37. Worries alot.
36. Great lover of dance movies.
35. Angsty in adolescence.
34. Nearly passed out when Sting sang Fields of Gold (in concert, circa 2000).
33. Surprisingly good dancer.
32. Not really a drinker.
31. Wishes smoking wasn't bad for you.
30. Has recently started wearing earrings.
29. In love with silver shoes.
28. Likes to wrap gifts.
27. Plans to buy a conga drum.
26. On Roommate #20.
25. Socialist.
24. Careful driver.
23. Enjoys seeing nuns out shopping.
22. Maker of a To-Do lists.
21. Fighter.
20. Does not believe in Hell.
19. Cold all the time.
18. Tries not to use staples.
17. Pen connoisseur.
16. Has lots of keys.
15. Names electronics.
14. Whistles well.
13. Gifted and talented.
12. Has four calendars.
11. Former temp.
10. Former copy editor.
09. Former secretary to evil.
08. Former medical records tech.
07. Former book shelver (not a librarian).
06. Former sandwich artist.
05. Is running for president.
04. Believes firmly in equality.
03. Volunteer.
02. Best friend.
01. Child of God.

A Plan.

2007-09-26T13:50:00.000-04:00

When I started college in 1997, I wanted to be a teacher. It was all I ever wanted to do. But the English department was often frustrating (including the professor who gave all of her slightly indie students Fs on a paper, just for kicks) and the education department was at times infantilizing. There were many moments when I began to look for another career. I contemplated photojournalism, and law school, for a fleeting moment (very fleeting) ministry. But the thing that always won out was bird house builder. I felt like it would be a trouble-free career. No one takes those things too seriously. I had enlisted my friend who dropped out of architecture to be my designer, one of my musician friends to help me paint, another English major to sell them (and at her request, make beaded lamps while she sat at the counter). But alas, like so many of my dreams, it was just that, though I still look to it when I am looking for an out.

My career path led me from teaching to writing, from writing to editing, somehow from editing to social work. I have, as you can probably tell, been experiencing a period of occupational frustration and general discontent. It has infected my personal life, which I hoped would not be the case. I have picked up other social working gigs, hoping that I would find some vocational satisfaction there, getting back to basics and away from the bureaucracy that makes this job ridiculous so much of the time. But this too has proven difficult. So again, what's next?

I have begun working on a five-year plan. I like to always have a plan. This week I start a part-time job working with people who are homeless and living on the street (There are people who are considered homeless, but who do not live on the streets. It's a complicated system.). It is down and dirty, back to basics social work. With this I hope to find some release and to actually feel like I am doing some good. And if that doesn't work, I will have at least made enough money that I can pay off some of my debt, which will vastly expand my options. I've been considering another master's degree in health care administration. I've mulled over going to law school (though I read through an LSAT prep book and was quite terrified). I've thought about leaving the country and either working somewhere in a structured program, or becoming an anonymous revolutionary figure (a la Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos). Or I could go back to bird house building. Or begin my presidential campaign (2024, the year I in which I will run and win, is just around the corner). Or maybe just finish my chart notes before 5pm.

On Charity...

2007-09-07T14:32:00.001-04:00

I've read two very interesting articles today about Poverty and Charity. I've actually only read the first page of the one on Charity, so I'll spare you my commentary on both (for now), but will leave you with the links for some good, light weekend reading.

The Freezer.

2007-09-06T14:24:00.001-04:00

On one of my favorite episodes of Friends, Joey is reading Little Women and when it begins to get too sad or too emotional, he runs and puts it in the freezer. I am currently in desperate need of a freezer. I am currently reading A Thousand Splendid Suns, the second book by Khaled Hosseini, who wrote The Kite Runner (another freezer book). With The Kite Runner, I was brave. I was reading it with my bookclub, and so had support for the read. I saw one of these friends at a birthday party while we were reading it and he came up to me and said, "I finished reading the book last night. I was sobbing for the last 100 pages. Be forewarned."* So I was prepared. When reading on the train, I would begin to feel that something bad was going to happen, and would just shut the book and stop reading. I would begin to read the book on my lunchbreak, and had the luxury of an office door to close when I began to weep. Even my most stoic friends have been affected by this one. So I know I'm in good company.

This weekend a friend loaned me A Thousand Splendid Suns. He said, "It's good, but watch out."* So I gathered up my courage and put it in my bag to read on the train. During day one, I saw the approach of something bad coming, but I turned the page and.... I should've known. But now I'm fully rapped up in it. There's no sparing myself. I began reading again as I ate my lunch today. It went a little something like this. Oh, how wonderful. Things are looking up..... Booo. That shouldn't happen..... Oh, but wait..... Are you kidding me..... He's alive....What?!?! And then sadly lacking a freezer or an office door to protect the world from the flood of my tears, I quickly shut the book and placed it on the floor. It is now staring up me, Read me....Read me. But I must hold out, for I know what lies within.

*All quotes are gross approximations of what might have actually been said.

Site for Rent.

2007-09-02T12:39:00.000-04:00

This weekend my college roommate, Aydrea, was in town, and through an L.A. connection got tickets (very good tickets) to see Rent for herself and me and Nathan. I love this show. It is maybe my favorite thing in the whole wide world. It was the first musical I ever liked enough to purchase it, and sing it in my car over, and over, and over again. It is possibly the only movie I have ever had to see on opening night (and subsequently the only DVD I've ever bought the day it came out). I even considered auditioning for it (for about 5 seconds) when they had open auditions right after I moved to NYC. Needless to say, I was crazy excited to see it again. And it surpassed even my greatest expectations.

I had seen Rent three times before this, twice when it toured through Austin and once since having come to New York, and I was really overjoyed each time. But this time was something different. Aydrea knows the family of Jonathan Larson, who wrote Rent. Mr. Larson died from a heart ailment one day before the show was to open Off-Broadway, but his family has remained close to the show and to its cast each time, as it is obvious this show has so much of him in it. Since the beginning of August, two of the original leads, Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal, have been reprising their roles, which is why it was such a tremendous deal for us to get tickets at this point. It was unlike anything I have ever seen. It is so clear from watching them that their love for this work runs deeper than the beauty of the music and words. They knew the man who created it, watched it unfold, mourned him through their work. It was amazing to see something I know backward and forward become something new, evolve before me with greater meaning to I had ever known. It was an unbelievable, unforgettable event.

And as if that was not enough, due to Aydrea's friendship with his family, we were able meet the stage manager of the show who proceeded to introduce us to the entire cast. They were all so kind and appeared to be so humbled by this show. Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal stopped and said hello and spoke to us for a second but had to get away quickly to escape the throngs of screaming teenage girls who know them from the movie. But as the rest of the cast filed out each of them stopped and spoke to us, about the experience of doing the show, about the joys of their character, about how it's such an awesome experience to be doing this show at this time in its history. Tamyra Gray (who was robbed on Season 1 of American Idol) played Mimi and was truly astounding. A young man named Justin Johnston played Angel like I had never seen him played, and it turned out that I had seen him play Roger in the touring company when I lived in Austin. And then after everyone had left, the stage manager, John Vivian, took us on a tour of the stage. It will sound silly to anyone who has never been this in love with a play, or movie, or musical, but we got to stand on the marks the actors stand on when they sing Seasons of Love. We walked up Mimi's staircase, and sat on the platform where they sing Life Support. Truly unforgettable.

Three (or more) Beautiful Things.

2007-08-22T12:55:00.000-04:00

Beautiful things to begin the middle of the week...

(1) Instant friends. (Bring It!)

(2) Austin Public Radio.

(3) The fact that New Yorkers enjoy wearing scarves in August.

(4) Having a lovely roommate who will gladly bring me my keys rather than expecting me to sleep in the lobby.

(5) New friends having finally made it to NYC after an arduous move.

(6) A new tattoo.

On Illness...

2007-08-16T12:15:00.000-04:00

At the beginning of May, as a means to combat my vocational frustration, I began facilitating a support group for people living with HIV and AIDS at the GMHC. It has a been a somewhat daunting but worthwhile endeavor. Each week I meet with between 2 and 10 people, and we talk about really anything you can imagine. I am sometimes shocked (i.e. on the days we talk about sex and drugs), sometimes frustrated (i.e. on the days we talk about insurance and medications), sometimes saddened (i.e. on the days we actually talk about living with AIDS). The past few weeks we have talked alot about the effect being diagnosed with HIV has on your life. Most every person in my group can tell you the day and time of their diagnosis. They can tell you what they wore that day, what they ate before their doctor's appointment, what the weather was like, who they talked to after they received the news. About the moment when they changed from person to patient. They talk about how despite the fact they might have no symptoms, they live each day knowing that they are sick, that they have a terminal illness.

I recently had a man in my group who was very newly diagnosed with HIV. When asked how he was doing with it, he answered that he felt like he had overcome alot in his life, and that this was just one more thing that he would conquer. He had beat a brain tumor and cancer, watched a parent die of a terrible disease. This would not be his greatest challenge. The others in the group were encouraging, but anxious, let him know about many of the trials he will face. After the group, I sat and talked with him one on one. He amazed me. He is armed for battle. But he is also nervous, and anxious, and guilt-ridden. And this is sadly how it goes.

There is something to be said for being prepared for what may come. This is why we have insurance and savings accounts. But there also needs to be space to live in the moment. To appreciate time with friends when you do not have to worry about what to do next. To feel great without worrying about when this will go away, and what will come after it. To live in the now. It is a difficult task though. You have to learn to change the things you say in your head. I feel terrible must be followed by but only for a moment. You must strive to remember what how you felt before your diagnosis, because oftentimes people take better care of themselves, and are in better health in the long run, because of their illnesses. Mind over matter is an important tenet of survival.

And this is where I come in. I am there to arm you for battle. I am there to fill your head with as much knowledge as you can handle. I am there to be your guide, and your advocate. To keep you active in the fight. I leave a meeting like the one with this gentleman somewhat overwhelmed. I left that meeting in dire need of either a hug or a cigarette. "What if I told him too much?" "What if that does not work out?" "What if he is already too far gone?" But meetings like these are why I do this work. I have been sick alot, with many things on the spectrum from life-threatening to annoying, so I feel I have a good amount of perspective on being ill. For alot of reasons, with my most serious illness, I felt like I had to go through much of it alone. When I was younger, I spent alot of time being angry about the cards I had been dealt with regard to my health, and it caused me alot sadness because I had no way to really understand what it was that could come of the trauma I had suffered. I still have days when I feel like that. But then there are days when I know very well. People need someone to help them understand paperwork, to know when to fight back, to walk them through what their days may look like, to be unafraid of the illness they are carrying, to listen indefinitely to their daily struggles, to be there for them when no one else can.

I don't talk about my job alot, because it is a party killer. I say "Oh, I'm a social worker," and the conversation can no longer be frivolous. It has to be about what we doing for a cause, and how difficult is it, and many times how the importance of the other person's job cannot compare to what I do. But know, that I could not do any of your jobs either. I am bad with numbers, overwhelmed by bureaucracy and philosophy. I cannot do chemistry to save my life. I've taken four physics classes and still cannot do vectors. I don't wear the proper footwear for corporate America. I am not armed for that kind of battle.

Indebted (2).

2007-08-10T15:02:00.001-04:00

So, I've obviously been thinking alot about money lately. And after reading my last post, I know that I did not even touch the surface of what I really wanted to say. Where to begin?

As you can probably tell, I'm essentially a socialist. I do believe that it is our duty/privilege/responsibilty as human beings, let alone as Christians, to take care of one another. And we are clearly not doing this, as evidenced by our need for health insurance, and life insurance, and vast retirement savings, and by the fact that millions of people are homeless because their lives did not afford them the privilege of a safety net. I have spent alot of time thinking about this, as a large majority of the people I work with at my jobs have been homeless at some point. How is it that someone becomes homeless? You might say drugs, irresponsible life choices, or sadly, mental illness. But with all of these things what it boils down to is lack of a safety net. A job with no health insurance, so a minor ailment becomes a crippling one. A job that pays so little that they barely afford a place to live, let alone to save for a rainy day. Having fallen through the cracks so many times, that they are now senior citizens who cannot read or write, and do not have anywhere to turn to for help. In situations like these one thing goes wrong, and you are out on the streets, sleeping under overpasses, on doorsteps, in a chair at a shelter. But one of the most amazing things I have ever seen is how these people who have been let down by the system that is supposed to protect them then rise up to protect each other. Young, single mothers who babysit for each other so some of them have a chance to go to school or work. Homeless men and women who look out for each other, gathering information about what can be done to better their situation and keep them safe. Severely mentally ill people making sure that their neighbors, who may even be somewhat better off than they, are healthy and feel cared for.

I do realize that I am in a very easy position. I am not married, I have no children, so therefore there is no one counting on me for really anything. So it is not necessary that I set aside 15% of my income, or that I have comprehensive life insurance, or that I worry about someday buying a home, or needing a car, and it goes on and on. And thus I have room to think about the way things should be. And I, because of my aforementioned debt, don't do all that I could or should do. But I like to imagine what the world would be like if money had no power. If need always trumped want. If equality actually mattered. If every child was allowed a joyful and uninterrupted childhood. And I know how naive I sound. Please know that I am not naive, but simply hopeful.

Indebted.

2007-08-08T14:14:00.000-04:00

So, if you know me at all, you know that I am in alot of debt. I went to one minorly expensive, and one majorly expensive university. I moved to NYC without a job, during a national employment crisis. So yeah, I have alot of debt. And I have mostly just resigned myself to it. I have 30 years to pay off my student loans, which will be just in time for me to retire. And everyone in the United States is in debt. It's what we do. It's part of the American Dream.

This is what I told myself for a long time, and it mainly worked. I went to work, paid my bills, occasionally ran out of money before having paid all my bills, but this was the only way I knew how to live. It would occasionally overwhelm me, and I would call one of the friends who knew me well enough to know exactly how deeply mired in debt I was, and they would listen to my panic and my hopelessness at finding a way to stop it, probably growing tired of listening me over and over and over.

My best friend and I trade New Year's resolutions each year, as we have seen each other over the previous 12 months, and know what would be good for the other person. Most of the time. His resolutions for me range from clean out your car and be on time, to this year's be more proactive. Part of this proactivity for me was wrangling my finances. And another friend, in whose apartment I have had a financial melt-down, invited me to go with her to Financial Peace University, which was being led by a friend of ours from our small group at church. I reluctantly agreed, and here we are. I spoke in a previous post about the inner turmoil this class has brought to me, about my struggle to be someone focused on social justice and the needs of others, but to also be fiscally responsible to myself. I can't help but feel that there is an inherent element of selfishness in financial planning. It is a world of my needs first and then yours with whatever I have left. This is not necessarily the way of Dave Ramsey's program, but it leaves Giving to the very last lesson, and speaks very little to the relative wealth of even the most indebted American in comparison to that of almost every other person in the world.

At CCfB this week, we discussed Luke 12:13-21 and Mark 6:25-34, and the ramifications these scriptures should have on our lives. My minister/friend Joe put it up on his blog, and he and I have been e-discussing this a bit today, as he knows I am involved in, and feel extremely conflicted about, Financial Peace University. Dave Ramsey overwhelms me. Every week, I find myself shaking my head at so many of the things he says. But I also know very well, because of what I've watched many of my family and friends go through, that it is necessary to get all of this under control. While I sometimes find Dave greedy, and feel that he is often twisting the meanings of the scriptures he uses in the lessons, I can also see the good in the system he has set up for people. I have always been very open with those closest to me about my financial situation, and talking to many of them about this class, and my struggles with it has helped me to get some perspective on it, and to know that in the end, if I am able to find a way to pay off at least some of my debt, that it will be worth it. And with that I have had to find a way to do this without letting it change my priorities. While Dave Ramsey's goals may not be mine, his means to getting there can be helpful for my situation. And I am doing my best to look for ways to get ahead, but am trying to allow God to show me the way to do this without sacrificing my health, or my sanity, or my principles.

I started reading The Irresistible Revolution around the time I started this class, and while at first it was one of the things that made me want to chuck it all, after much thought it has become kind of a supplemental text to guide me--looking at Dave Ramsey's stuff through a lens of social responsibility in addition to personal/financial responsibility. There is something anti-consumerist about Financial Peace University, because every financial decision is to be made with much thought for the consequences/necessity of it. And if you look at wealth building as what you can give back rather than giving it all to creditors, it changes things a bit. So, all of that to say, I'm still trying to work it out. And to remember this:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.--Matthew 6:25-29

Questions.

2007-08-03T11:45:00.000-04:00

So I've got some questions for you that have crossed my mind over the last few days. Think of this like a college history final. You have several options, but only a few will be on the exam.

(1) Do you think it's cheating to read by audiobook? Answer, then read the article. It is not yet avaible in audio form.

(2) What, if any, are the ethical ramifications of non-profit organizations spending copious amounts of money on office facilities?

(3) Is it hypocritical to put a Fur is Murder button on your leather bag?

(4) Clinton or Obama, who can take it home?

(5) Does the risk of “[going] too far in federalizing health care” outweigh the benefits of insuring over 6 million children? I'm just saying.

(6) When will the TV world run out of things to make reality shows about? How far is too far (either in lameness, or in ethicality)?

(7) Is ethicality actually a word?

2007-07-28T10:30:00.000-04:00

Today marks the end of my 5th year in New York. We believe that this is the mark at which you become a real New Yorker, though I believe that being kicked by a homeless man and living with the mafia during my first year here should have designated me thus. But anyway, here's my list of integral lessons learned on the streets of New York....

(1) Sometimes public transportation can be relaxing. I've been known to take the bus sometimes rather than the train, because I can see outside and it gives me time to read.

(2) There are friendships that can survive anything--distance, time, and every kind of challenge--and come out better and stronger on the other side.

(3) A very large purse can in fact carry most of the things I used to keep in the trunk of my car. I currently have in my bag two books, a notebook, a can opener, wallet, phone, iPod, a multitude of hair accessories, and a pair of shoes.

(4) Moving to Queens is the greatest thing you can do for love.

(5) A kind and sane roommate is a necessity.

(6) No matter how many times I've been down there, and despite the fact that I worked there for three months, I will always get lost in the Financial District.

(7) Being alone does not have to equal being lonely. I have over the past five years learned how to navigate this city by myself, and how to be okay being on my own. Though there are times when it is a struggle, I know that I am not really alone, and that I have a wonderful group of friends here and all over the world, and that I can be proud of all I have done here.

(8) Though it will become commonplace to see celebrities, you will still have a running list in your head. My list includes Bebe Neuwirth, Cynthia Nixon, Brook Shields, Adam Duritz (my favorite), Pat Sajak, and the dad from the Wonder Years. I won't brag about the time I talked to an Oscar Nominee about grocery shopping. Or the time I got the phone number of one of the contestants from the first Apprentice (while working at The Container Store).

(9) Even though you may have been flattered the first time someone on the street made a comment about your hotness, it will get old real fast (but depending how creative they are, it can still be amusing sometimes).

(10) As said by my dear friend Nathan, God works in powerful ways. The life I have here is unlike anything I could've ever imagined for myself. At times, it is so much more difficult, but also so much more amazing.

The Usual.

2007-07-23T13:43:00.001-04:00

I was just reading an article about flooding in England, Texas and China. It goes into significant details about the floods in England, and in Texas and the measures being undertaken to save lives and protect property. But when it gets to China, all it said was this,

In Asia, the monsoon rains produced the usual floods, landslides, evacuations and loss of life. In China alone, more than 150 people were reported to have died in the last week and 3 million were displaced across vast tracts because of the heavy rain. (emphasis added)

I was really bothered by the fact the word usual was used when talking about catastrophic weather conditions and loss of life. I do understand that this happens every year during monsoon season, but vast devastation should never be seen as an everyday occurrence. Is it just me, or is something very wrong here?

S.E.X.

2007-07-18T15:26:00.000-04:00

I was raised in the South, as a member of the Church of Christ, and thus I grew up with a very particular, and very conservative, view point on sex. But then I went away to college, became somewhat involved in the gay community, and began working with HIV patients, which lends itself to a very particular, and somewhat liberal, view point on sex. I remember very well how terribly weird it was to sit down at my desk, at my first real job and find a huge basket of condoms sitting next to me; my disappointment the day I learned that abstinence education does not work; my overwhelming embarrassment the first time one of my patients told me in detail about the sex she was having with her neighbor. But like so many issues, I believe that having been raised on one side and having come to live on the other has greatly increased the depth of my understanding of this issue.

There was an article in the New York Times this week about how abstinence-only education may be on its way out. This is sad for the call of many religious groups, but I can tell you, in capital letters, that IT DOES NOT WORK. Teaching children nothing about sex, other than the fact that they shouldn't have it until some point far in the future when they may be married, leads them to (a) have sex despite the fact that they have no education on how to protect themselves from disease and unwanted pregnancy; and (b) to feel such a sense of shame about anything sexual that it scars even their church-sanctioned relationships. And this is really just the case for a very small portion of Americans. In other cultures, things like gender roles, the power structure of familes, and educational opportunities influence people's thinking about sex and relationships, and their effects of the future. In many countries, these elements are in part responsible for the AIDS pandemic.

For much of the last decade, most of the funding the United Stated provides for AIDS prevention has gone to abstinence-only programs. For a time, the current administration forced the CDC to removed information from its Web site that sited the effectiveness of condoms in preventing transmission of AIDS and other STIs. Many states have started cutting funding for such programs, but the federal government continues to spend money on something that has proven ineffective and impractical time and again. The issue has now become another part of political debate in the upcoming presidential elections. And many researchers have found abstinence education to be the wrong direction to move in the future, and have stated that this is dangerous and "morally problematic", but it has persisted for many years against the better judgment of experts. Maybe now is the time to put a stop to it.

End of Sentence.

2007-07-10T13:22:00.000-04:00

I once had an e-discussion with one of my friends about (a) whether it was appropriate to edit someone's e-mail for grammar and punctuation and then send it back to them, and (b) whether the total lack of spelling, capitalization and punctuation in an e-mail was grounds for putting a stop to a potential relationship. I am known for such silliness as using a dictionary while writing e-mails and reposting blogs 5+ times for spelling, punctuation and formatting errors. I've had people e-mail just after sending me an e-mail, to apologize for the use of "there" meaning "they're". Which is why this article was maybe the funniest thing I've read in a long time. I would like my tagline to read "Casey Burke, a social worker and sometimes writer from Brooklyn, N.Y., is really rather low maintenance."

All at Once.

2007-06-28T11:07:00.001-04:00

So it's been a bit since I've posted anything. I've started no less than 5 posts, but could not make any sense of them, so I quit. Right now, as I find myself reading several things at once, my mind is a bit muddled.

Every time I go to Austin, I come back with no less than 5 new books. Part of my circuit there is the book stores, so I hit Book People (a wonder in itself), the Half-Priced Books on North Lamar and the Goodwill near my old apartment that has an impressive, but very unorganized library. This time I can back with Mrs. Dalloway, Franny and Zooey, The Corrections, something called Total Happiness (an independently published book that was quite good until the end) , The Irresisitible Revolution, and Are Men Necessary? by Maureen Dowd (who is an op-ed columnist for the New York Times.) And now I am in the process of getting through all of them.

I started with Are Men Necessary?, which is a commentary on feminism, politics and the rise of cosmetic surgery in America (among other things). And then I moved on to The Irresistible Revolution, which is pretty amazing. And in addition to these two, I'm reading Financial Peace Revisited as part of a class I am taking. Reading The Irresistible Revolution right after Are Men Necessary?, has filled my head with thoughts of revolution, and the means to combat some -isms (i.e. material-, rac-, sex-, etc.), and to bring about others (i.e. optim-, femin-, liberal-, etc.). And then I read about attaining financial peace and am told that I should work toward "wealth building" and that I should have the means to buy a boat should I so choose (I won't, because boats make me nervous, but the choice is there). But the voice in my head responds "Savings, Retirement, Boats, Houses, Cars? But people are sleeping in the park across the street from my office. Something is wrong with this." I feel like I'm simultaneously living in two worlds.

I had been told about The Irresistible Revolution by some friends, but am just now getting to read it. The author, Shane Claiborne, is part of The Simple Way community in Philadelphia. He and several others have opened a community center and live there along side the residents of one of the poorest neighborhoods in the country. In the book he tells stories of protests, and important trips to India and Iraq, and of using joy and love to show the world there is another way. That conflict can be solved without violence, that poverty can be overcome when we care for each other, that dying people can be given dignity even if they cannot be saved. This gives me hope that my generation of Americans is looking at the World differently and seeing what has to be done to make it just, and safe, and peaceful.

So now I am wrestling with and trying to reconcile these two worlds. I find money very tricky, and am made very anxious by its presence in mass, but also by its absence. I have lived my entire life in a place of financial struggle (though I know very well that I and my family are among some of the wealthiest people in the world), and can see the great potential of finally winning this battle. I simply must hope for the discernment to know when enough is enough, and to use what I have to do what is right.

Holiday.

2007-06-14T15:24:00.001-04:00

Today is my first day back from a very nice vacation. I was off for a week and spent 4 of those days in Texas. I enjoyed the heat, did a significant amount of car singing, spent alot of time with my wonderful friends, and got to see two of my favorite people get married (to each other). I got to go to Kerbey Lane, and Book People, and both of my favorite grocery stores. And at one point got so lost in the suburbs/woods as to confirm that I can never live there. Trees make me nervous.

Damnation.

2007-06-06T09:31:00.000-04:00

I made a vague statement a few posts ago about having decided not to believe in Hell any more. I promised I'd come back to it, and have decided to do so today. When I was in high school, my best friend was Catholic. He told me once that his mother thought she was going to Hell for not believing in Hell. Isn't that a wonderful paradox?

A few months ago, I heard an oldish episode of This American Life, that spoke of Carlton Pearson, a Baptist minister from Oklahoma, coming to the conclusion that there is no Hell separate from that we have created for ourselves (and others) here on Earth. This was what solidified it for me, but there much more to it. Here goes...I cannot see the point in living your life, working and loving, sleeping and eating, running and walking, simply to achieve a place in Heaven, and thus leave an empty spot in Hell. First, there is nothing man can ever do to earn a place in Heaven. And I do believe, that under this same umbrella of grace, there is nothing man can do to take himself out of God's favor. I don't believe that this is something we earn by being in the right place, at the right time and being given the gift of knowledge of God and Christ. For so many of us, our Christianity is merely happenstance. I was born into a family that for generations had been a part of the church. I lived in a community where church was cool, and thus we went. The church I went to in college was about a 5 minute walk from my dorm, so there was no excuse for me not to go there. And the people I met there happened to be similar people to who I was at the time, and some of them have remained so. Now I am trivializing these things to make a point, but I don't discount God's hand in any of this. I'm simply saying, what if one of these things had not been so, and I had never come to know God? Is the sum of these circumstances enough to make me worthy of Heaven? Or maybe it's just that we should live our lives in love, doing what is best for our fellow man, trying to live a good life, and hope for the best. Or maybe know for the best. That God is on our side. That He loves us wholly for who we wholly are. That He has prepared a place for all of His creation. And that we will all be welcome there.

"Wisdom is a Woman."

2007-06-04T10:10:00.001-04:00

Last night, as CCfB's regular minister was away on a very arduous trip to Jamaica, my friend Jen was in charge of teaching class and later preaching. When I walked in she asked me to read a scripture and said, "It has be read by a woman. You'll see why." The scripture was from Proverbs 8, and is the embodiment of Wisdom speaking in a female voice. I was greatly amused to be the voice of wisdom.

Growing up in the Church of Christ, I always knew that I would never be called upon to lead the church anywhere. Even then, I didn't have very many close female friends and found it difficult to relate to woman on any level, and thus could never see myself as a teacher of the fabled Ladies' Bible study, and I am not patient enough, nor knowledgeable enough, to being called upon to mold young minds. I remember in junior high and high school there were months when the boys were separated from the girls during Bible classes, and we always wondered what the other was talking about. The girls in my youth group were close enough to the boys that we got the secret out of them. While we were talking about sex, and why we shouldn't have it, they were being taught to be church leaders. In the coming months they would do sermons on Sunday nights, and lead singing and pass communion, while we sat in the pews and remembered the reasons you should never touch a boy on the knee.
Upon moving to NYC, I had my first experience with a gender inclusive church, and found it slightly intimidating, but also so freeing. To sit in a pew and listen a beautiful, honest prayer given in an untrained female voice. To see my friend Laura lead singing while holding her little girl on her hip. And last night, to hear Jen speak with such great understanding, while periodically stopping to tell her daughter hello.

Standing Still.

2007-05-30T13:02:00.000-04:00

I recently got an e-mail from a friend--formerly of New York, now of Atlanta--and there-in he said, "So are you looking for a job yet?" It seems rude as I'm reading it now, but the main thing I cherish about this friend in particular is his total honesty. The job I currently hold is, at a year and two months, the place I've worked the longest (aside from my part-time stint in Med. Recs. Shout out to TOSRA!). I don't know what it is exactly that makes me move on so quickly, but there's this voice in my head telling me to keep looking even after I've found work and am somewhat settled. I generally last about six months before I start perusing the classifieds. I see a help wanted sign, it doesn't matter that SW jobs don't work that way, and I find myself wanting to apply for it. I am often in the mind-set I had when working as a temp or an intern, always thinking about what I'll do when this job ends. But the thing is, this job is not supposed to end.

So, this time around, I've been looking and interviewing for jobs since roughly January, taking one small break due to discouragement. I've had probably 10 interviews, with no call-backs for seconds. I don't know why. I'm not a bad interviewee. I'm polite and intelligent. I'm fully qualified for most of these positions. I'm not wearing cut-off shorts to, or smoking during the interview (though I think that would be funny if I did). As I like the thought of divine providence (more than the thought of once again being deemed unhireable), I'm starting to believe this is God telling me to stand still. And while I've got lots of valid reasons for hoping to move on, I'm going to give it a go. Hopefully, I can survive it.

S.W.I.S.H.

2007-05-24T15:13:00.000-04:00

A few days ago I was walking down 6th Avenue, when I saw my life story sitting the window of Barnes & Noble. It was a book called Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys. I immediately went into the store to read and buy it.

I have long been well-acquainted with the gay community. Call me what you will--straight ally, friend of the family, friend of a friend of Dorothy, or, my favorite, a S.W.I.S.H. And I have read far and wide about the relationship between a gay man and a straight woman (probably looking for validation), but find only tales of shopping and make-overs, scandalous evenings out, drugs and sex and angst, no sports EVER. But this isn't so much how it's been for me. So when I bought this book I was apprehensive.

The first story is about fashionistas. And though I do have a couple of friends with whom I shop and make commentary on the fashion mistakes of others (those who can't, teach), this is not what these friendships are really about. But the next few stories made me smile at recognizing us in them. The one about the friends that met in college and have been by each others' side ever since. The one about the friends who met through friends, and were instantly an item, working together, applying to grad school together, one allowing the other to cry all over his pillow when this doesn't work out. My stories are a mix of these. And though there are specks of raucous behavior in these stories as well, the sentiment of it, knowing that these relationships are just as important in people's lives as the ones sanctioned by law, is still there and makes me laugh and cry and want to write my own story.

Windsor.

2007-05-23T10:35:00.001-04:00

I got an e-mail from my mother today, letting me know they had had to put my dog, Windsor, to sleep yesterday. I say "my dog" but he was really my mother's dog. He loved her with such devotion that made the rest of us jealous. I was often offended that he did not want to play with me, but would take the toy from my hand and go with it directly to my mother, as if bearing a slobbery bouquet of flowers. He was a very sweet dog. Hyper but not too much. Very smart and tolerant, as in high school my friends would often pick him up and make him dance and I was very found of making him do a dog show run. I used to take him for walks around the neighborhood--a rarity in his backyard life--and we would stop at my best friend's house, and Windsor would wait patiently as my friend and I talked for hours in his drive way. My best friend always spoke to him with a British accent as he thought the name Windsor warranted such a thing. He had a great love for stuffed penguins, and the occasional cow, but was known to turn his nose up at anything not black and white. And he knew very well that he was not allowed to bark in the house, so he would sit at the front window and if he saw something worth barking at would run to the back yard through the dog door and bark. So polite.

I have not seen him in almost 4 years, as that's how long it's been since I've been to my childhood home, but it is still sad that he is gone. He's probably the last pet I'll ever have, as my allergies are now beyond being able to tolerate anything other than maybe a fish. But he was a good pet, a loving companion, and a constant source of amusement. And he will be missed.

A Beautiful Day.

2007-05-21T12:57:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, CCfB participated in the 22nd Annual AIDS Walk New York. The weather was beautiful despite the ominous weather reports, and we had a wonderful time spending the day together (which is always the case). We were 15 of the over 45,000 people walking that day. And we (with the other 45,000 or so people) raised $6,857,527. This is one of my favorite days every year, as it helps me remember why it is that I do the work that I do. But it was even more special yesterday, to be able to do this with some of my favorite people by my side.

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