Catching Up.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Randomness to read...

(1) A fantastic list.

(2) An article.

(3) And an editorial.

Between the Lines.

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.

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.

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.

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.