my week in review.

Working full time temp job totally threw off my rhythyms. Even when I was unemployed, I developed a set of habits. Like freely pondering the important ideas (such as self-organizing entities) that wandered through my brain. And now that I have a (modestly unstructured) job, I’m falling in to new habits. Must steer clear of resentment of the job, which is, after all, paying my rent.

But this reading back 200+ posts every monday/tuesday to catch up from my weekend is really grinding. And pretty annoying at the second week in a row. Want to keep up with and maintain connections to the people I’ve put in my default view. Don’t have time to do that and live my own life. Hmm. Bleh.

Anyway, my weekend

Ro and I put some stuff together in matlab to suck in raw image data and turn it into a little movie. This mostly consisted of Ro directing my coding while peering over my shoulder and informing me of matlab functions, and their proper use. Nevertheless, I did add value here and there. Overall, it was kinda cool. I like working on my living room couch. Whee.

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Friday was the ‘training’ for the steamworks gmhc stuff. It didn’t so much have a training in useful skills feel as a ‘history of the organization’ feel. As I do during long lectures, I zoned and started thinking about a marginally related topic. In this case, it was a book by Spider Robinson, Lady Slings the Booze. And more specifically the whorehouse that was the setting for the vast majority of the book, and still more specifically, how they dealt with the std thing (without fucking with the time stream in undesireable ways).

To backup for a second to the broader topic, the proposed whorehouse was remarkably comparable to a massively upscale bathhouse/sex club, with a couple of tweaks. There were theme/fantasy rooms. Being fictional, their sex facility could smell just fine, and did (not like steamworks). They had a ‘front room’ that was generally non-sexual, had a piano and other trappings of a comfortable salon, where the ladies hung out and were social with the clientelle (not like steamworks). And it had a number of private rooms, along with a number of not-for-clients rooms where other business was conducted. And of course, it was a whorehouse, which is a significantly different economic model from a bathhouse.

Major [rational] objections to bathhouses center around them being vectors for the spread of diseases. Anyway, the point that caught my attention was that, at the fictional establishment, they screened clients. Tested ’em for hiv and denied the positive access to the services of the establishment, while referring them to the in-house priest for counseling. I modified this notion somewhat. I figured people would object to a totally exclusionary approach. So, I concieved a dual club structure. And a more thorough std screening process. In essence, they wouldn’t be let into either without a clean bill of health on the curables, and which one they got into would depend on the results of the hiv test. (The major reason for distinguishing hiv being that it is incurable, sometimes untreatable, almost always fatal if untreated, and the treatment plan is expensive, unending, and often unpleasant in and of itself. This makes it rather unique among stds. The other incurables, like hpv and herpes, present other tempting candidates for selection, but that’s a secondary point)

At the post-training pizza & beer (I got a nice vegan calzone), where many topics were discussed, this idea went over like a leper in the town square. It didn’t take 5 seconds for about 75% of the people to whom I proposed this notion to start comparing my plan to concentration camps, or the attendant armbands. When I tried to address the legitimate elements of what they brought up, they talked louder than I did, and ran right over what I was attempting to say. Repeatedly. This goes down on record as the most unpleasant part of my training to date. Disagreement is fine. I didn’t expect this to be hailed as the end of aids in our time. I expected it to be contentious. I also expected to be listened to. Silly me. Two of the biggest problem experiences (for me) in my relationship with were over that exact same issue, on topics far less significant.

What I wanted to say was that I envisioned the hiv testing to be conducted appropriately, in private, with counseling. Confidentiality could be addressed by encryption foo. The facility could sign it, and the client encrypt it, each with their own key. Prevents falsification and allows privacy. I envisioned disclaimers galore and very aggressive marketing of safe sex in both clubs, with different messages, which in essence boil down to “We can’t make any guarantees as to any patron’s health status.” “Condoms can save your life, and forestall much frustration.” Blah, blah, blah. Periodic std screens would also be necessary to maintain membership. The person at the desk wouldn’t know why your card failed (whether because you entered your passphrase wrong, you hadn’t had a checkup recently, or you were at the wrong establishment).

Someone said that I would be “actively discouraging condom use”. That is such shit. “Actively discouraging condom use” is saying ‘no, don’t put that condom on’. But that person is well known for an annoying argumentative style, and not necessarily known for faithfully representing fact. I wouldn’t have been [as] annoyed by “discouraging condom use” or even “encouraging barebacking”. Please bother to learn english before attempting to engage me in meaningful conversation, thank you, and have a nice day.

I was not saying membership at this little network was mandatory for anyone. I was not saying that all other clubs should be shut down, and I was not saying that everyone who goes to a sex club/bathhouse goes to have unprotected sex. Nor was I saying that there should be little condom cops to make sure everyone who was getting it on at a club was rolling one down for the team, or getting kicked out.

End rant.

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On the way back home after the post-training pizza, beer, & “discussion”, I grabbed a ride back home with Ro (Ralph also being given a ride). There I revealed my childhood trauma baggage, or at least the cliff’s notes, ostensibly as part of an explanation for why I had no plans to use the free pass they gave me to try the place out. Reactions were supportive, but I guess I wasn’t in the mood for it.

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After running a few errands in the morning, Simon and I rode across the bay on bart (jam-packed as it was). We got out and milled around a bit prior to the march. I have no idea how many people were really there. It didn’t seem quite as populous as folsom, though it did seem to be a pretty major fraction of that size. The chants weren’t especially thrilling. I felt like the invisible observer in the crowd. I wanted this to be like the vision everyone who never lived through the 60’s has of woodstock, where there was a free-flowing atmosphere of acceptance and affection. And it did seem to be a pretty friendly crowd overall, but it was still a crowd, and I felt little to no sense of belonging or meaningful connection.

We ended up in front of the civic center, and it was a zoo when we got there (we were pretty close to the front of the march. I stuck around long enough to hear barbara lee speak (first time I ever saw her, she’s a very good speaker, and I felt did much to bring the whole thing back on message. She started off saying “We are here to protest the war in Iraq”. A pleasant contrast to the 2 or 3 ‘establish a palestinian state now, please’ speakers preceding her. After that I bugged out and walked over to Ro’s place in the presidio.

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I got minorly lost and walked through baker beach to his place. When I arrived and mentioned that I had walked, this apparently suprised those present. There was a minor snafu with rugby players meeting right outside at the beach, and Ro and Michael waiting inside his apartment for them. Food was brought outside and shared. My veganism was significantly breached for some tasty bread and a few donuts. But the tastiest part was the hummus, especially with the whole wheat/flax bread that michael made. Eventually we adjourned back to Ro’s apartment because people were freezing.

I didn’t get along well with the Rugby players. Not an active antipathy, just a lack of consonance. I took a nap in the middle of the game they were watching. Though at the end I think I made a connection or two. When they got finished sports geeking. People went home. Ro put on a rather elaborate jester’s outfit (looked preety cool), and loaned me a cat-in-the-hat style hat. (he called it a mad-hatter hat, my journal, my description). We went out to see castro street and were disappointed by the general absence of costumes, and trivially annoyed by the presence of bitchy queens not in costume who felt the need to comment on ours. We declined the hideous lines at badlands, and went back to Ro’s place, where we tried to watch videos & failed, because his tv and dvd didn’t want to play nice. I blame broken remotes, and broken design which places functionality in the remote that is not available on the control panels on the television itself. More philosophical exchange. Slept over at Ro’s.

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Got up earlier in the morning than we thought, damn you DST! 😉 Joined Ro in picking up Michael and heading over to the Rockridge library. Got there early too, so we tooled around the Rockridge area, bought a couple cinnamon rolls, and went for the morning class on transgender stuff. Bagels and classroom organization, whee. Interesting stuff on hormones, and surgery and other things. Alot of history that I didn’t have before. No specifics on what we could do to make a reasonable stab at extending our services to the transgendered.

Instead it was suggested that we get people to do it, with consultations from the transgendered community. I’m kinda iffy on this. There are two valid concerns here: that we run a men’s std clinic and are not adequately trained/set up to deal with trans/intersex issues, and doing so would be alot of work to provide help to a pretty small segment of the population, but there is a medically underserved community that we could be helping out. The gmhc was started due to hostile insensitivity from the mostly straight, male, and sex-negative medical industry. Trans and intersex people would have some medical concerns outside our ability to address (as do many of the patients that come in). Trans and intersex people know those needs better than we do (or just about any other health care provider you care to name). At the same time, there’s rather a shortage of them. Starting up another bfc (sub)collective is alot of work and the new (sub)collective generally comes from within an existing (sub)collective. The members of the gmhc with this interest are not (afaik) trans or intersex. <shrug> Not a pretty situation.

The afternoon class was on intersex stuff. I didn’t know what exactly intersex was going in to the training, though from references in the morning, I had mostly figured it out. They are the people who are born with non-standard genitalia (or have unexpected genital development at puberty). According to our guest expert, the standard medical response to these babies is to lop off their undersized penis, or oversized clitoris, surgically reconstruct the region into a mimicry of female genitalia, and put them on hormones so that they turn out ‘female’. Pictures of this were passed around. Not having had extensive experience with the appearance of female genitalia, I honestly had trouble figuring out what was wrong with the picture in many cases, though in some, it did look freaky and ‘off’, so the pictures did little to horrify me, though the description left me feeling very very ewwww. It seems to be a terrible case of aesthetics over function. Apparently this happens in 1/2000 births, in the US, meaning that there’s a population of about 125,000 intersex individuals of varying ages running around this country. I would really, really like to believe it’s not true. That would be a terrible thing to do to someone, but it seems plausible. Especially confronted with our speaker (self identified as intersex, managed to avoid medical intervention, and pat had nothing on this one), but also the father of two kids, working through med school. Hrm.

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I took a little break before shift. Picked up “American Gods” (and promptly left it in Ro’s car). Tooled around at home for a bit, then went to shift. While there, I mostly did labwork. Pretty much exclusively in fact. Lots of looking at urine, and occasional inspection of discharge under a microscope. I’m pretty confident about the preparing of stuff, but not especially confident about finding the things that I’m looking for under the scope. Still, it was cool. Something productive to do.

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With Stephen and Dave, went out to la burrita, as I was whining about the food court that everyone always goes to. Ian showed up. Vehement discussion about the appropriateness of us serving the transgendered ensued. I’m mildly not in favor. There are several useful and important skills/knowledges/whatever that most of don’t have, and I’d really rather not fuck up (calling on the do-no-harm principle of the clinic). Ian is vocally pro. They’re an underserved population, and that’s what we’re here for (Ian also had medical section training, ie, more general medical training, and I didn’t. Coincidence? I wonder). I agree with what he says, but I don’t feel personally up to the task. Providing a limited set of services to someone with more or less the same plumbing I have seems challenging enough to me at this point. Doing the same for someone with plumbing significantly different from what I’m familiar with, and indeed for someone with uniquely developed or specially constructed genitalia is even more daunting.

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I was supposed to help this guy out with some computer difficulties he was having. But due to embarrassing circumstances (for him, not me), he had to call off. Yet he still kept me on the phone for 15 or so minutes. Rescheduled for indefinite later date. (called again on wednesday, for another 10 minutes, just to setup something for friday.)

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and came over on monday evening, and we played go and five-in-a-row (gomoku?), and some other strange games. Simon wandered in before we really got started. I think I’m getting better at go. We finished off with Settlers of Catan. Simon (the bastard), won. I was cut off from going anywhere. I had a life without wheat. Or sheep. Very, very sad. Patrick provided many tasty snacks, and a good time seemed to be had by all.

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Afterwards, I played warcraft 3, and didn’t do so well, but made up for it tuesday evening. I’m experimenting with humans, but they seem weak against rushes, though with the arch-mage and priests, they are masters of healing.

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Ro and I doing the research thing is starting to sorta work for me. It has alot of the cool parts of a class. It is much more targeted and detailed. It seems to be a collection of useful tricks without alot of general principles or intuition building. I don’t want to do this for the rest of my life, but in the middle of the second week, it isn’t so bad, and it has gotten progressively better.

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Checking out Food Not Bombs this evening, (they meet at the local anarchist gathering place). Will start contacting grad programs I am interested in (sociology, mostly. Maybe anthro, and maybe public policy, but we shall see) over the next week. I found out today that one of the jobs at berkeley I applied for is a no go. I put my resume and cover letter (pretty damn spiffy versions of both) in on the first day it showed up. I contacted them early in the first morning that hr would let me through. And still the job was already taken. Every job (with the exception of motorola) that I’ve had, I’ve gotten based on some sort of personal contact. Emailing resumes and waiting 4 weeks to make personal contact basically doesn’t work. grrr.

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That’s my story. Honk if you actually read all the way through 😉