Never Say Never

Here’s what I couldn’t publicize earlier this week. On February 6, my birthday, something is happening to make me remember this one in particular. I signed an offer letter for a new job. Actually, I signed it a few days ago, but post-dated it for this day. I wanted to have something to significantly make this birthday memorable in a good way. I told my current boss on (today) Thursday. It was a difficult thing to do. My career trajectory has usually been one of trying to escape a shitty situation. My job search mode has usually been precipitated by vocational misery or termination/downsizing (a human resources euphemism for “you’re fucked” or “we don’t like fags, but you could sue us for that”). I’m not accustomed to leaving a situation that I like.
I really like my (soon to be ex) boss and job. I was not in a job search mode. When I came to my current job about two and half years ago, I thought I was making my final employer move. I even went as far as to say, “I’m going to either die or retire here.” I expected the former, as I don’t think I’ll ever see retirement. But, shit happens, and in this instance, I’m not saying this in a pejorative nor sarcastic manner. Never say never.
A professional colleague, whom I know from our professional associations/organizations was talking with me last fall after a conference we were both in attendance in Baltimore. He’s also in Chicago. He began telling me of a position in his company that was open and he was looking to fill. At the time I said, nothing.
A month went by with me continuously thinking about this. I finally called him. I needed to speak to him on another issue with the board we are both on. And, in this conversation, I asked, “Have you filled the position yet? Let’s talk about it—informally.” I’m the type of person who never (or rarely) shuts a door when it’s been cracked open. I want to at least peak inside. So, we talked informally. I told him I wasn’t “actively looking” to make a move. The informal conversation led to a round of formal interviews with some of the senior management team. Then, to a second round with the rest of senior management team, of which I will be a part. With each round, I was more impressed with the company, the work they’re doing, and the people. This is an organization with a strong core of leaders who lead, listen and communicate. The level and manner of communication is impressive—and certainly not my usual experience in corporate America. Some of the management team, and the EVP were at the same conference I was at in San Francisco last week. When my plane landed at SFO, I turned on my phone, and there was a text message from my colleague that said, “Can you meet with me and EVP tomorrow night in the hotel lobby at 6:45?” Now, I can be very obtuse at times, but I figured, they wouldn’t be double teaming me to say, “we’re going with someone else.”
I was correct. They handed me an offer letter. I took it to my room, the next day we talked, negotiated some details, a new letter was issued, and I signed and dated it for a week later.
The machinations and bureaucracy of academia (and state government on top of that) move slowly. That has been one of my frustrations in the current situation. The new place will allow me to do some of the cutting edge and innovative projects and work that I thought would be more accessible in academia. Red tape is a great prophylactic to progress.
In addition to telling my boss, the other difficult one to tell was employee. I’ve watched him grow in his skills and abilities, and I like to think I played some role in facilitating and mentoring that. I know he did not get that from my predecessor. I also went to tell the chairman of my CME Committee. I wanted to tell him face to face before I made an announcement on our Committee Conference call today. He’s a man not always known for his tact and grace. But he said some very gracious and kind things to me. Everyone did. In the midst of their disappointment about my news for the organization, they were genuinely happy for the opportunity this means for me. This makes it all the more bittersweet.
As always, my major life events necessitate an excerpt from a Stephen Sondheim musical. For this, I choose, “Something’s Coming”, from West Side Story (his first broadway show-for which he was lyracist:
… Come on, something, come on in, don't be shy, Meet a guy, Pull up a chair! The air is humming, And something great is coming! Who knows? It's only just out of reach, Down the block, on a beach, Maybe tonight . . .
Only, no longer out of reach—I just have to work on the ‘meet a guy’ part.
wtf/rle©

The Greener Grass

It’s long been on my mind, but something I’ve been reticent to verbalize or ‘writerize’ about my diagnosis. My guess is that other people with chronic illnesses/conditions/diagnoses think similarly in regards to their own situations, when thinking about or talking to “the great magician in the sky”, as George Carlin used to say in reference to a god.

I wonder what it would be like if I could ‘exchange’ my CVID for something else. When I play this fantasy game in my own mind, I’m usually trading it for HIV—hence my reticence to talk/write about. Let me state for the record, I’m NOT a ‘bug chaser’.* (see first footnote.) Nor, do I advocate the practice.

My thoughts tend more to the philosophic ideals. How would my life be different? Do diabetics dream about trading their insulin injections for something they deem less intrusive? (This is all conjecture, and since it’s my health fantasy, I get to romanticize it the way I want.) In this scenario, my overall health is actually better, because my doc(s) treat a lot more cases of HIV than CVID, and know how to manage it (the disease) better. This is confirmed by the knowledge that my friends with HIV have a better overall health than I do. The other thing, (and this is the one that makes me envious) is that I’d have an already built in community of people like me, with more commonalities that the disease itself. There are plenty of services, support and social groups for my HIV friends. This ties in to a recurrent theme of my life of feeling like I’m always on the outside, looking in. It’s something that is a very common theme among gay people. From our earliest memories, we (or I) always knew that I was somehow different from my brothers, from my classmates, from everybody. And, even though I couldn’t articulate what that difference was for a long time, I somehow knew it had to be kept “secret”. It falls in line with the sense of the “Imposter Syndrome”. Or to analogize this to another group, my friends who are in AA, have that built in community of people like them. Again, I have no intention of abusing ETOH to get a membership card. Given my preponderance of constant anti-biotic use, I would not be able to over drink with any consistency, anyway . But then, if I had that particular disease, adherence to abstinence while on antibiotics would most likely not be in the forefront of my mind.

An additional aspect that frustrates me is that I used to do my share of volunteer work for HIV/AIDS education and prevention & services to people with HIV. That all stopped when I had my first shoulder surgery, which I believe was the catapulting event that was the beginning of my overall health decline. That was followed by the chronic pain problems (which is a completely different chapter). Aside from lacking the energy to be able to commit long term, I’ve re-focused my energies to learning about and working on causes related to CVID. While important and a necessary move on my part, what I do in these regards, impacts fewer people than did my HIV work. It also somehow feels ‘less pure’, as now my motives are now more self-serving.

When I’m able to joke about it, which is most of the time, I say this is just another aspect of how dyslexia has permeated every aspect of my life.** (see second footnote.) Even my body/blood got the letters mixed up. Gay men are supposed to get HIV, not CVID. But then, I've never been one to follow convention. The ironic part being all the years of worrying about HIV, and doing my semi-annual HIV tests (out of habit, not necessarily activity), it didn't occur to me or my various healthcare providers to look at other possibilities, until two and a half years ago. Well, that's partly untrue. For nearly 13 years, I kept saying, "There's something you're not figuring out. Something's not right. I shouldn't be getting sick all the time." And, after all those years, it was the PA who finally diagnosed me correctly.

I close with no answers to my contemplative fantasy disease exchange, but more questions, which is frustrating. As the Baker’s son, sings in the finale of Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods, “No more questions—please. No more tests... No more curses you can’t undo…No more questions, please. Close the door.—Just No More.” Just no more—those three words speak volumes. I believe that most of life’s ponderings can be summed up by and/or found in one of Stephen Sondheim’s musicals/songs. I would say Into the Woods is my favorite Sondheim, but I can’t. That’s like parents choosing a favorite child (although mine did, --shocker! It wasn’t me). All of his shows provide a new/usually skewed—in a good way—outlook. (I wish they would do a revival of this show on Broadway. I’ve only seen this one by smaller non-equity companies in smaller venues. I’d really like to see it on the Big White Way. Although I didn’t get there this year to see Sunday in the Park With George (another Great Sondheim show). But I digress.


*term in the gay community for an HIV negative man who seeks out and has unprotected sex with an HIV positive man with the sole intent of contracting the virus. Some view it as a ‘right of passage’ to becoming a MOTT (Member Of The Tribe). There’s an alarming amount of data indicating the widespread practice of this, especially among younger gay men who never have had to witness the decline and gruesome deaths of their friends who died from AIDS complications, before the advent of Protease Inhibitors and all the subsequent HIV meds.

**the other aspect being that I did not come out of the closet until I quit being a florist. I got that backwards too.

©wtf/rle

Sweeney Todd --Redeemed!

Sweeney Todd has been redeemed!—No, not the travesty of a movie. It’s still a piece of shit. Over the weekend, as part of my birthday (February 6, for those taking notes), my best friend got tickets for the touring production of Sweeney, which is in Chicago for a brief (way too brief) time. Additionally, the universe showed me some kindness, and by a fluke I was able to see it on Tuesday night as well. I responded to an ad on CL. This guy had a friend back out on him, and he had an extra . I didn’t even have to pay for the ticket. Blind date, great show, nice guy. For both performances we were in the orchestra level at the theatre.

When the revival opened on Broadway two years ago, I was really bummed that I was not able to see it. (This doesn’t qualify as a regret—see previous post—as it’s not that I had an opportunity to see it and passed on it, I just was unable due to circumstances and finances to get to NYC to see it. I couldn’t wrap my mind around how the actors were also the orchestra. How the heck would/could this work?! I did get to NYC last summer and saw Company, which was done in the same manner (same director) and I got an idea, but these plays are so different, I still couldn’t see how this would work with ST.
With the exception of the leads, most of the Broadway cast (or understudies/standbys) are in the touring production. The character of Tobias (Toby) is also an exception. Edmund
Bagnell, the young man (as opposed to a prepubescent boy in the POS movie) who plays him is EXCEPTIONAL. In my opinion, he stole the show. Instrumentally, he played the violin, and clarinet. All of the characters are on stage the whole time, even when he was not in a scene, he was so totally in character. His facial expressions were incredible. He conveyed so much with his eyes, even from the middle of the orchestra section, he was that expressive. He would get this wonderful maniacal look, and even his violin playing looked maniacal at crucial times. He made the violin a character in the show. Vocally, instrumentally, and theatrically, he was sublime.

It was great to hear Sweeney and Judge Turpin singing in those booming, menacing baritone/bass voices, as Sweeney should be. The “Pretty Women” duets were bravissimo! While vocally, Johnny Depp didn’t completely suck (like HB-C did as Mrs. Lovett), a tenor Sweeney just doesn’t evoke the same sense of foreboding that that a deep bass singing Sweeney does. Benjamin Eakeley, who played The Beadle, and instrumentally played keyboard, clarinet and saxophone, gave a very subdued, yet strong, nuanced performance. He played a slick, smooth operating political sycophant, not some greasy snaggle-toothed street bum.

The performance that was not exceptional, and let me state, she was not bad was Johanna. But her star was less bright in this galaxy of comets and supernovas. Vocally and instrumentally, she shone with the rest. I felt though, that she ‘dumbed down’ the character of Johanna to a caricature, being a bit too ditzy, as though being placed in the lunatic asylum may have been the right choice. Also, I didn’t think that she stayed in character when she was playing cello, but not singing. I’m not sure why a woman was cast as Pirelli, the Barber. That didn’t really work for me. This actress did an OK job, but I would rather see that role play by a man with at tenor voice, not a female alto.

Casting this show had to be a nightmare. The instrumental assignments were not random. Toby HAD to be able play the violin. Mrs. Lovett had to be able to play the tuba. Not only did Benjamin Magnuson, who plays Antony have to be able to sing the role, and act it, but also be able to play, cello and keyboard. Finding the right person for each character who also played the instruments assigned to that character. Then there are the Understudies and Standbys, who are US & SB for multiple characters. It blows my mind. Sondheim writes difficult music to sing. But the music is integral to the character and character development. The music is just as important as the words that are attached to the notes. That’s why I can’t understand why he let the movie be done with sub-par (shitty) singers. (I won’t call them musicians). OK, so you want big name actors to be the box office draw. There are plenty of A listers who can sing well. Cast them. But I digress. If this touring production comes to close to you, go see it! ©wtf/rle