Meeting Old People

Well, it’s been interesting lately.  I’ve been meeting a lot of Old People.

Not “old” in the sense of age.   Rather, people I’ve seen around for ages, but to whom I’ve never been introduced.

Take Ken for instance.  I’ve seen Ken around for about a century or so.  Last Monday (11 days ago), I was hanging out with friends, and my old friend from school, Barry, when I saw Ken come into the Sun.  We’d had occasion to say “hi” once or twice in the prior week or so.  I’m carrying on with my friends like the usual lunatics we all are, and Ken comes over, grabs something out his coat – it’s his business card.  Please call, and there’s a discount for … whatever … I can’t remember.  Then I don’t see him for 10 days – finally got around to writing him an email yesterday afternoon, and into whom do I run last night – Ken.  Nice save, Edward.

Then … there’s David.  I decided I’d change venues; most of my friends were out early as usual, so they all bailed.  I walked up the street, and ran into two skymattress, erm, uh … flight attendant friends of mine, Joe and Ed.  It was great fun, but I was hanging across the room from them, and wound up getting into a conversation with David.   I’ve seen David around for about … an Epoch.  It was the first time we’d really spoken.  It was pleasant, and I made David laugh a good bit.  Nice man from Louisianna.

And, I mustn’t forget Oscar.  I have a 35-45 minute layover near the Civic Center on the way home.  Ususally, I just meander or grab a quck, cheap bite to eat.  But many of my friends have been going on about this bar in the Tenderloin (TL) called Deco.  I really don’t need to add another bar to list of places I terrorize, but I had sometime, and it’s only 3 1/2 blocks in two or three directions from my bus, so I walked up and in on Tuesday.  Oscar was behind the bar, and I recognized him right away, but didn’t know how.  Turns out he used to manage the Sadlands in the early 2000s.  It was fun to meet him as well, and he has an interest in Archaeology, so I’ve promised a little slide show for him next week.

It’s fun meeting old people.  Best of all … I found another set of new restaurants to try, including a new Burmese.  Yum!

Homophobia and Hate – Alive and Well in SF

I’m to the Peets Coffee in the Marina by 6:30 in the morning at the latest now.  I get myself a cup of coffee, a code for the wireless (Peets holds you to 2 hours), maybe a nosh, and then grab a window seat and have my time online.

 

This morning, there were a few more people than usual.  At the window, two guys in their 50s probably – not too terribly much older than me – were having coffees and morning chat.  For the most part, I was able to ignore them, have my conversations online, and upload my blog from yesterday. 

 

Finally, though, somehow the subject turned to gay and lesbian children.  The one character who had the most to say about is apparently named John.  It was fascinating.  If I’d been in a bar, around 7PM in some part of rural Middle America, I wouldn’t have been shocked at all.  This was the conversation you’d expect from two, bitter, old, drunk white guys.

 

But this is 6AM.  In San Francisco.  And everyone is apparently sober.

 

John gets rolling with the “no grandkids” from gay and lesbian children.  I’m thinking, “Is he f’ing kidding me?”  Of course, he has to say it over and over, and then no less than 5 times, bring up “The Turkey Baster™” as an option for gays and lesbians to have kids. 

 

2008?  And people are still saying this stuff?

 

Oh, but wait … there’s more.  See, the hate and stupidity don’t end there.  “S/he’s got a gay son and a lesbian daughter.   And they say they’re proud.  What’s there to be proud of?”  This gets repeated as well.  More stuff about no grandkids.

 

What’s there to be proud of?  Are you kidding me?  People have been proud of their kids for their poo changing colors at age 3-6 months.  People are proud when their kids graduate high school, get a job … any achievement beyond breathing, really.  Hell,  people are proud when their pets go on the paper or in the litter box. 

 

Why is it so hard to believe that parents would be proud of their kids in spite of the fact OR because of the fact that they are GLBTTQQ?

 

Oh, that’s right.  When you’re blinded by hate, that’s all you can see.

 

People still tell me what a great accomplishment Same Sex Marriage is, pretty much weekly.   I’m glad that same-sex couples can marry in the State’s eyes, because it was a silly barrier, but then, State Marriage isn’t what it should be about, IMHO.  It should be about the commitment between two people, and if they so believe, their god, religion, and institution of higher worship.

 

It’s mornings like this one that remind me what’s actually important – educating people and changing people’s beliefs about non-heterosexuals.  It’s mornings like this that remind me that Homophobia and Hate live on in San Francisco and California. 

Day 2

Well, Monday was Day 2 on the new gig. Did I make much progress? NO.

 

I’d forgotten what it was like to work for a large corporation with bureaucracy everywhere. In the post-Sarbanes-Oxley world, it’s even worse, especially for a company that does all of its business dealing with money online.

 

So, for instance, I have to submit requests to have software installed on my computer. Now, for things like Microsoft Project, where licensing is involved, I can understand the need to have controls and be compliant. You would think that the company would have had that set up on the laptop of a person who is responsible for projects, but that’s another matter. In fact, 3 of the main tools I need to get my job done are not yet available to me. Oh, well.

 

That said … I cannot even upgrade my internet Exploder to Version 7. I’m not a huge fan of IE in the first place, but at LEAST with IE7, I can get tabs, rather than a separate window for every page I access. Sadly, I have insufficient permissions to accomplish that small feat.

 

None of this is to say that I’m dissing the rules of the company. I understand why things are done this way, and why they have to take precautions. It’s just frustrating, that’s all. I don’t like being less than effective.

 

On the bright side, I’m really loving the commute. It gives me time to rest or read or write or or or … it’s forcing me to to do some things I wouldn’t be able to make time for, like writing this blog. And, to be honest, it’s shocking how little traffic there is one the freeways. We come downs in the mornings on 101, and it looks like we’re heading back up on 280, and there is NO traffic to speak of. The HOV lane helps, of course, but even as I look around me, it’s empty.

 

Next step … get the password for the wireless on the bus. Then … watch out!

Beginnings and Endings

This has been a week of beginnings and endings for me.

I’ve said farewell to my friend Kitchen* (see previous post Pranks) – who went back to NYC, my favorite bus driver of all time Virginia, and to my friend from Australia, Dene (who went home this week after a 3 month visit).  Additionally, I learned that my long-term bartender and friend from the Midnight Sun, Dan, was taking entrance exams and planning to go to University.   Likely, Dan will be changing roles at the Sun, if not leaving completely.

Farewells are always difficult.  Beginnings aren’t supposed to be.  They often are though.  Today was my first day on my new contract.  You would think it wouldn’t be bad, right?

Well, mainly it wasn’t (as of 12:20).  I made every connection i wanted to make, and everything worked out exactly as planned on the way down.  There were some disappointments, though.

On the morning commute, I have to leave a full hour before I really should need to to make the shuttle down to San Jose.  While I have a plan for the 40-45 mins between the two buses, it’s diisappointing that there is a bus I could take from Sausalito … IF … it arrived just 2-3 minutes earlier.   No such luck.

On the way down, the poor shuttle driver – and the shuttle is a full-sized bus with toilet and wifi - had someone blowing his horn at her for about 1/2 mile.  He then passed her, cut in front of her, and slammed on the breaks.  We all went forward …

Fortunately, there were no injuries or accident.  The driver was very apologetic, although it was CLEARLY not her fault.

Then, graceful me … I arrived at the Building 30 minutes earlier than I expected, and a full one-hour before I WAS expected.  Excellent.  What’s my first manuever?  I catch my heal on the stairs, and nearly fall down the stairs off the bus.

This time, gratefully, I found the railing, and grabbed on.  I did twist my ankle, but it doesn’t appear to be serious.

The rest of the day has been scheduled to be full, but it isn’t insane.  I don’t think.  Then again, maybe I am.   It *is* good to have a routine again.

Virginia

A few months ago, I started taking Golden Gate Transit’s Number 10 bus route at 4PM-ish occasionally.  As you learn riding the system, you typically have the same driver on the same route at the same time 5 days a week.

Some drivers are stoic, and barely say hello.  Others are friendly to a point.  Once in a great while, you meet someone who can drive a bus, has a life, outside interests, and a personality, and is willing to talk with you as much as time and safety permit.

Virginia drives the 4PM-ish bus.  I met her and over time we’ve become more and more friendly.  I can’t always sit close to her to chat ALL the time, but she’s made it clear that some conversation is welcomed at times, so when I can, I move up to the front of the bus so we can converse.

Virginia listens, too.  We talked about my job search, and the waiting (yes, STILL waiting as I type this).  When I get on the bus the day after a conversation, Virigina wants updates and remembers details.  She’s always funny and friendly.

One day, I got on the bus in my Nike Brasils – which are BRIGHT yellow with green trim and laces.  She had a field day with those.  At one point, she turned around, thinking I was sitting behind her, and asked about the shoes.  The woman who WAS behind her was … confused, initially.  I offered that I thought she meant me – I was 2 rows back – and Virgina says, “The shoes!  I want the shoes!  Bring them here!”

What a hoot.

Yesterday I got on the bus at the actual beginning of the route with my fresh buzz – FINALLY got rid of the big hair on Saturday.  That shocked her.  We actually had some good chuckles on the way down.

Virginia is interested in archaeology.  Today, I’m sharing a pressing that is copy of an ancient document written in Linear A.  I got it on Crete in Chania – one of the Greek Ministries sells them as souveniers and teaching aids. 

On a sadder note, I’ll probably saying goodbye to Virgina for a while.  Assuming this contract closes today, I’ll be having full days from 6-8 daily, 5 days a week.  I’ll miss her.

More Waiting

So, here we are … still waiting.  It’s past 10 AM on Monday … ugh …

I have tried to fill every minute of every day with something to keep my mind off the wait.  Brunch with friends, sharing part of my life story and photos with photographer Duane Cramer (www.duanecramer.com) who is someone I’m seeing at brunch on some Sundays, and coffee and chatter with friends.

My conversation with Duane was interesting, as we reviewed my dating/relationship with my ex, Marco.  For the period of about 30-45 minutes, it was nice to be thinking about ANYthing of than waiting for The Call(tm).  It’s also flattering to have a professional photographer ask to see your images.

He’s inspiring me to work with my images.  Like, I need one more thing to do at a computer.

It was a fun/funny conversation. 

Okay, back to waiting.  And Laundry.  Because I know how to have a good time.

Waiting

I hate Waiting.

Waiting for buses is a pain.  Public Transit in San Francisco is pretty good coverage-wise, but not so great predictability-wise.  Recently, SFMTA put up a couple of different types of electronic signs and screens to tell people when the next bus or light rail was coming. 

Only one problem … they aren’t accurate.  The ones in the bus shelters are just on written schedules it would seem, and have no insight into the actually timing of the bus in question.  The big screens that are in the underground stations often have cars listed as. say, “K” when they are they are actually “S” trains. 

So, I wait.

Last week, I waited for contracts.  They came Friday and Monday.  I chose one and accepted. 

Now I wait for confirmation and final paperwork to be signed.  At any point, this could all change.  It’s happened twice this year already - contracts go POOF … and gone.

So, I wait.

I hate waiting.

HIV, Immigration, and Ignorance

Many years ago, during the twin horrors of the increasing HIV/AIDS pandemic and the Reagan “Presidency,” the United States of America chose to ban immigration and travel to people with HIV. 

The original claim was that this was done for public health safety reasons, but I think it’s pretty clear that it was done out of basic homophobia, with a smidgen of fear thrown in.  We’d just stopped calling AIDS “GRID” … Gay Related Immune Deficiency.  Reagan was no great supporter of gays in particular. 

A bill has made it through the Senate that would repeal that ban.  It appeared to have good support and sponsorship from both major parties. 

It’s about time. 

I mentioned this in chat, and to my horror, if not shock, one of the local chatters, sfnoe* said, “They should have used a condom.”  As this was a gay oriented chat room, it was particularly horrific.  Cold, unfeeling … blame the person who is sick.

“We don’t let people with TB in,” this person continued.  How unmindful of the difference in how communicable TB is versus HIV can one be?  And if the rule is “you need to use a condom,” then what’s the fear with HIV? 

Beyond that, we don’t stop people with a host of other diseases from coming in, and we’re one of only about a dozen countries that bans travel/immigration based on HIV status.  And the company we keep on that list is not pretty.

It’s disappointing to see that kind cold hate of a group from someone who has known cold hatred for being part of another group (non-heterosexuals).  I’m not shocked, because that’s the “straighting” of gay people that is going on today.  That, however, is a rant for another time.

Repeal the Immigration Ban for HIV.  Good for the Senate. 

(Reminder: name* is an abbreviated chat name.)

Yenta

Gay Yentas are the worst.  I’m sorry, but they are. 

I have so many yentas in my life.  Like Feras.  Feras has tried set me and Adi up for as long as I’ve know him.  “Awwww … I see something sweet happening here.”  It just makes you wanna reach out and touch him at a very high rate of speed.  (I have to be the one to tell him that Adi and I have agreed like the Vancomb woman … “Shaaaaahhhh … You know what?  Eeeen Eeeen.”)

Then there’s Dr. Bill.  Dr. Bill is actually not a doctor, but I call him that because it’s a play on his chat handle.  He is forEVER trying to fix me up online, or encouraging me with people who are nice or smart or sexy, or some combination … but often people I’ve decided just won’t work.  (Today, I was explaining my reasons WHY I knew dating a certain someone just wouldn’t work – not to mention the whole Sean thing – and dude was like a yippy-puppy with a rubber toy in it’s mouth.  He would NOT let GO!)

So, I’m out last night, and I’m meeting friends and my new transplant friend ABS* … we wind up talking a lot, ABS* and me, and we’re hanging out at the Midnight Sun, when Kitchen* shows up.  Kitchen* is the one I pranked with a silly photo of him a couple weeks back (see the Pranks Post). 

Well, of course both talk to me … and guess what?  Both have an interest in each other.  Well, pass me the gefilte fish and call me Sylvia … didn’t I turn into Gay Yenta!

It worked.  I’m happy.

On the other hand, I’m sad … we love Kitchen* at the Sun, and he’s heading back to NYC to live in less than 2 weeks.  We’ll miss him.

(Reminder: names with an asterisk ” * ” are abbreviated chat handles.)

MySpace – Too Much Web Presence

I have too many profiles on too many sites.  I spend the first couple of hours every morning between them and email … BBC News Website … WordPress … Facebook … and and and …

I am Mr. Web 2.0.

Well, yesterday, two of my online friends whom I’ve been chatting with for a little while convinced me to add them as friends on MySpace.  I’ve had a MySpace account for years, and I’ve done very little with it.  Mostly, I get random invites from women I don’t know who 99.9999% of the time are really just advertisements.  So, I’ve never really bothered much.

But, when I added them, I thought, okay … if I’m doing this, I may as well put in a little effort.  So, I updated the profile, which makes me more interesting there … like any site …

Today, in email … I got this lovely missive:

Hey dont know if i can interest you, but ive been looking for an older gay man such as yourself to be my “teacher” and show me everything sexually with a man. And you look perfect. im 22 and totally for real..i hope i hope i hope your interested.

Charming.  Thank you Jase and Julio. 

(I politely declined the offer.)