parties & Noah

So, I made it to two out of the 4, and spent some quality game time with simon.

The community one reminded me alot of the chicago gay men’s chorus, minus the singing. I was definitely a young’un, in the crowd. They were supportive and friendly. They also seem to lead lives dominated by frivolity. Me building a bike from parts was quite remarkable to them. I recieved great praise for black eyed peas and swiss chard with garlic and thyme. (hint, you basically have the recipe right there, not complicated). They have monthly gatherings, and 4 retreats/year (memorial day, labor day, thanksgiving, and president’s day) Retreat activities included a no talent talent show (featuring lots of drag, good, bad, and ugly), and workshops on safe touch, manicures, arts and crafts, community discussion and group dynamics and so forth and so on.

I imagine a fair amount of them, like the doctor that I knew, feel contented with the difference they are making in the world at their day jobs, (like comments by ). I think, though, that part of my dissatisfaction with the group is that I am not at all satisfied with my day-job difference in the world. In fact, I largely hope that what I am working on doesn’t make a big difference. It’s kind of a relief to me that it’s not paying ‘what it should’ because that would make it much harder to turn my back on.

Teaching would fulfill that, as well as my need for supportive, nurturing contact. And I did turn in my application for the april California Basic Educational Skills Test. I also want to be motivated to work on the paper to remove my incomplete for the political economy of inequality and redistribution. That would involve spending much time in the library of the institute for government studies on cal campus. Hmmm.

Long term goals still uncertain. I am thinking that I may want to get into law and policy foo, and devote myself to a dill-pickle-club-esque* lifestyle of perverse manipulations of property and contract law to serve egalitarian, community building purposes. That would probably be even better. And I know at least one collective in the area is looking for some amount of help doing that sort of obscure foo. That’s without any investigation into the subject. Hmmm….

Regardless, I was feeling uncomfortable there. Maybe it’s the urgency of the 20’s. Enh.

After party, I hung around with Simon and watched him play hours of zelda. Wanted to go to gaming party, had no ride. Not in the right mood for a dress-up-and-meet-grad-students party. Killed a few hours. Walked to the clinic-centric party (half hour walk through the sorts of neighborhoods that make the paranoia-drenched, middle class aquaintances of mine nervous).

I went there hoping to see a particular individual (Noah), and hopefully other fimiliar medicly faces as well. I saw a couple. There was much recreational brownie consumption and intoxication. I was feeling not terribly in tune with anyone. I had a couple of conversations one of which was moderately interesting. Watched some belly dancing. Noah showed up as I was starting to develop time-to-go-home urge. Decided to stick around.

Drank a little something. Gin is nasty, even for alcohol. Drinking, even in small quantities, always leads to stomach discomfort and nausea for me. Perhaps I ought to slow down… I meandered through party. Came back to Noah’s group. Expressed my stomach discomfort. Noah rubbed my stomach, hmmm… =) I did find that my usual silly party competitive stretching games helped relieve the nausea.

Noah and I being physically affectionate in party. Yay. People leaving. Eventually it’s just Noah, myself, the hostess, and some people who are feeling the brownies. Someone empties his stomach (7 prayers to the porcelein goddess will do that) and wants to go to the hospital _now_. When I do finally see him, I have to admit, he really is scary pale. Hostess is confident that he just needs to rest it off, but tries to organize ride for him. Only Noah and I are sober. Neither of us is stick friendly, 4 cars, all stick. Call a cab, sick guy and his ex-boyfriend-now-roommate disappear before it gets there. Nobody has a cell # for them. Hostess wants confirmation that they’re at the hospital or she’s calling the cops. Guy who drove them here (who had trouble putting on his shoes, let alone anything more complicated), takes noah out to car. One of their cells is retrieved to contact the other cell. Confirm that they are at the hospital.

Yay. Walk home. Sleepy time. (with Noah =)

* => The dill pickle club was something Liz told me about from the book Fried Green Tomatoes. They were apparently dedicated to “Lying and doing good deeds in secret”. It’s kind of a heartwarming concept to me.