Out of Character?

Last night I was scolded by an officious 25 year old, red headed lesbian. I was taken into a back room and told to "behave and do my work". I was told "not to be late again, and stop talking to the others in the room." When I got up, handed her the phone, and papers and told her I was leaving, I was told to "grow up". This whole interaction happened within a span of 10 minutes. This was my volunteer experience.

So I screamed "YOU ARE A BITCH" at the top of my lungs.

Yes, I lost it.


Today's Hiaku

Volunteer for cause

Gift of time, deeply caring

better things to do

Diabetes Class

Hello:

Ah, the joys of diabetes! Who knew that having a potentially fatal disease could have so many side benefits for a gay man. I mean Viagra, and induced rapid weight loss by just eating a sugary food for a day or two. Three days of M&Ms and my abs are cut for a circuit party. First, I want to say that I'm not a typical diabetc. That is to say if the typical diabetics are the people in my diabetes class. As part of my new diagnosis I was sent to a series of classes of how to manage my new disease!

I was quite distressed about my new diagnosis. I found little compassion from anyone in the medical field. There was this nonchalance about the whole thing. Like a I was a lung cancer patient who refused to quit smoking. "Its your fault" I read in thier eyes, "you shouldn't have eaten those sugary orange slices". In fact I was eating those with an Orange Fanta just minutes before I had my blood sugar measured. My blood sugar: 1000+. Ten times the normal level.

So I went to the class. I was running late and I passed a rotund woman struggling up the stairs. I got into the class and looked at my classmates. Before I tell you about them let me describe myself: I'm 5'11, 210lbs, 32waist, 36 chest. I'm fit and trim. I workout a lot, I like what I see in the mirror....naked. So here I go into this class and I look at the students. Fatty McFatfat, Rotunda and the circus fat man were seated around the room. I asked timidly: "is this the obesity class?" Angry looks shot at me thenI realized I was in the right place. Just then, the plus size woman I passed from outside came in huffing and puffing, she was sweating and looked like she had just run a mile. Genuinely concerned, the diabetic nurse asked if she needed water or CPR.

"I'm sorry I'm late" she said in a sort of guttural wheeze. "I had to climb all those stairs"

There were four stairs.

The trim, pert diabetes instructor began her lecture. She emptied out her bag which was full of fake food. The same kind of food that comes with that child sized Barbie Kitchen I never got. I watched the others drool over the rubber food. I could swear they were salivating and licking thier chops at a simulated peice of cake. The instructor discussed exercise and diet, yeah whatever, I'm a health instructor tell me something I wasn't doing or didn't already know. I was angry. I work really hard to keep in shape. I look good, naked even! Now diabetes is making me sit in a class full of hungry fat people. I was thinking: diabetes sucks, I want some candy.

I never returned to that class. Maybe there's a diabetic class for fabulous people.

Today's Hiaku:

Candy is poison

You'll go blind, lose a toe

Diabetes sucks

Politeness

Hello Friends:

I'd like to thank Kevin for his actual surprise that I feel politeness is important. Since returning to the "rudest city in America" I can really appreciate how politeness and good manners can really make your day and how one simple rude remark can ruin it. Kevin may remember a time when my acerbic wit, and painful, albeit truthful, observations were directed at him. What I didn't know was the that the undiagnosed diabetes in combination with my antidepressants really made me a bitch, and for that I apologize.

Now that I have my blood suger under control and I've increased dosages of my other meds, the voices in my head that pointed out small flaws in the people around me have quieted down. Thank goodness I don't feel the need to point out cheap shoes, bad taste or recent weight gain to the people I care about. I assume they felt bad enough about it without me having to rub salt in those wounds.

So Alfredo and I have a system for addressing rudeness. We train people to be polite, everyday. How? Well, in our building nobody would say good morining. So when we leave for work, we make a point to greeting everyone as they leave. At first thier mouths would strain and mumble a "buenos dias" or a "good morning." I could sense the deepest pain in their souls at having to utter these words. After a year of this they avoid us completely or when they feel cornered they blurt out a hearty "Buenos Dias!" even before my greeting. I am quite proud of the work we've done here.

Today's Hiaku

Good Morning, Hello
Her jaw is locked at dawn
Buenos Dias, gringo