Vanguard: A Miscellany

5.4

"They make me nervous," she said, swinging her eighty-two year old legs from the edge of the examination table as though she were a seven year old on a swing.

"You don't seem nervous."

"Oh dear.  They make me so nervous.  Ever since the Northridge earthquake, I just get so nervous.  My TV fell off the table in that one." 

Her vital signs were normal.  Blood pressure barely elevated.  Listening to her heart, the rate continued at a normal clip.

"Well, remember the San Francisco quake in the 90's?  I was in that one.  I was sitting in the middle of the main plaza, and all of a sudden I saw the ground move in waves.  It was one of those rolling earthquakes, not the shaky ones.  And when I got back to my fraternity, I remember one of my fraternity brothers coming back, his face pale, as he told us how he had been on the Bay Bridge and noticed in his rear view mirror that a stretch of the bridge just disappeared behind him.  It was creepy.  But no, they don't bother me all that much.  Actually I kind of think they're fun as long as they don't cause much damage."

"See, that's why they make me so nervous.  They're just scary."

"Well do you think we should get to the doorway or something?"

"No it feels like it stopped, doesn't it?"

She was right.  By the end of our conversation, the shaking had stopped.

It's California.  It's an earthquake.  It's just another day.  You can kind of tell when the extent of the anxiety that an eighty-two year old woman with high blood pressure and diabetes can muster is just the ability to tell others (albeit unconvincingly) how nervous she is.

Week In Review '08.30

Week 2 of my three weeks of work hell is killing me.  Here's the thing--I have 2000 patients under my panel.  The other two doctors in my suite also have 2000, so when one person is out I effectively have 3000.  So the walk-ins, the phone calls, the review of labs, the medication refills jumps by 50%.  Except on Friday when both of the other doctors were out and then I effectively had 6000 patients.  I'm blaming this for my little depression this week.

7/19 - Worked out, went to Job #2 for a full day.  The evening started out OK, meeting at my sister's apartment for some wine before heading out for sushi.  Along with my brother-in-law and two of my sister's friends, we decided we were going to go to that hot new event in Santa Monica.  Everyone was talking about it, on the radio, e-mail, local news.  Hailed as an all-night, dusk til dawn, 7 pm to 7 am cultural event featuring DJs, installation art, performances, etc. it just seemed like an all too cool event to pass up.  The estimated 25,000 attendees thought so at least.  Unfortunately, it sucked.  Far too many people in an event that featured a bunch of crap.  The KCRW DJ wasn't really DJing.  He was playing records.  My computer can do that, just set up a playlist and set it on shuffle.  Then there were these performance artists who were on the sand with a bunch of candles in brown paper lunch bags who slowly, artistically moved the bags around into a peace symbol before asking everyone to hold hands.  Um...fuck that, we just left.  Yeah, it was all kinds of lame.

7/20 - Dark Knight.  So excited about this movie, and Sunshine had long ago gotten tickets because he was just as excited to see it.  Well not just as excited, but relatively close.  So we went to the Sherman Oaks Galleria with his wife, Razor Burn, Unicorn and two other friends, but we got there at 5:00 so we'd have enough time to grab dinner beforehand.  We were also celebrating Sunshine's birthday.  

As it turns out, Sunshine forgot the tickets at home, was unable to get the concierge to pull up the purchased tickets on the computer, had to drive back to his home to pick up the tickets only to find out that he'd purchased seats for the movie at the Arclight in Hollywood.  I was sooooooo bummed.  So much so that after dinner I got a double scoop Ben and Jerry's ice cream cone before heading in to see Hellboy II instead.  Not as good a movie as Batman, I thought.

7/21 - Work sucked.  I rested afterwards...after a 3 mile run.

7/22 - OK.  We tried again.  Besides today was Sunshine's real birthday.  So dinner and yes this time, we got to the theater on time (barely), arrived at the correct theater, and sat back for one of the BEST movies I've seen in a looooong time.   Seriously, loved this movie--well written, wonderfully acted, beautifully shot.  Except Maggie Gyllenhaal?  Good actor, I admit, but love of Bruce Wayne's life?  Mmm, OK.   Oh, I had a trailer trash sighting; Britney was in the theater.

7/23 - I played volleyball with the gays from 5:30 to 8:00.  I miss volleyball, although clearly rusty.  We did the post-volleyball dinner thing, then time for sleep.

7/24 - No Job #2 on this half day.  But I was fucking productive.  I did laundry because it is an odd numbered month.  Then I worked out with my trainer.  Then did the O-Bar thing, leaving at 8:30 because I had to make an appearance at another restaurant/bar for another friend's birthday all before having to head back home to start my shift on call at 10:00.  Yup, on call the day before the shit hit the fan as the only physician in my suite.

7/25 - Work REALLY sucked.  That's all I want to say about that, but I still got done on time.  And I needed something mellow to do.  That's when Razor Burn called.  We ended up at Rock Sugar with his girlfriend Unicorn.  It's a new pan Asian restaurant that gotten a bit of a buzz.  The drinks are amazing!  But once past the bar, you've gone too far.  The decor is cool, really cool, but the space is less than intimate with high ceilings and a vast dining area.  It sometimes got too loud.  The waitstaff was a bit slow, and the food was just OK.  It wasn't bad.  It just wasn't anything special.  Then again, it is owned by the Cheesecake Factory.  But the drinks were really good!

Days of My Lives

More than any other time in my life, I now feel as though I've lived several lives, passing through each as though passing through rooms of a shotgun house, closing each door behind me taking one, maybe two, souvenirs as I make my way through.  

Until high school, everything was a jumble, but there I finally set down roots, made good friends but only one with whom I still talk.  He wasn't going to be at my reunion, the only one from high school who knows I'm gay.  He was in Iraq.  I didn't feel like going; I didn't want to have to explain.  Then there was college.  And the fraternity.  It's been years since there was any significant contact with one notable exception.  Funny considering how convinced we all were of our undying loyalty.  But Eric's remained one of my best friends.  I love his wife and his daughters.  And then, med school.  For four years, we were more than just friends, constantly with each other twenty-four seven.  We saw each other more than our wives or husbands or girlfriends or boyfriends or children did.  And it's been reduced to Christmas cards and the biennial phone call between four or five of the hundred and twenty of us.  At least with them, those select four or five, they've known about me.  

And then, during my residency, I came to terms with my sexuality.  I closed the door on any chance of reconnecting with my past.  I didn't want to deal with explaining, or worse, the rejection.  And I felt it better to start over, find new friends.  And I did.  And I was comfortable with that.

But over the last two months, it's all come crashing back.  The past came crashing back, in a way that came as a surprise to me--the internet, specifically the social networking part of the internet.  Every other day, a friend request, a "Hey, dude, how've you been" or "what've you been up to".  The same faces, only a little older.  J, arguably my best friend in high school, who set me up on my first date, who went to Berkeley with me, who I haven't seen in over ten years.  K, my little brother in the fraternity, my roommate while I lived in the fraternity, and roommate when we rented a house together during my last year.  I haven't heard from him since shortly after graduation.  And T whose kids I babysat, allowing he and his wife a date night on those rare occassions he had time away from the hospital and I still had to study.  He contacted me to let me know about our ten year reunion, ten years!

But it feels a bit much.  All of these people, strangely back in my life and yet not.  I wonder if they know, the ones I haven't told yet.  They have to have some idea, just by looking at some of the comments or friends.  

No point to this except that it's just weird.

The Voice

It was so unlike me to, you know, just kind of sit there talking and laughing in front of him like I didn't have a care in the world...except for that other time I did the same thing with the other guy I sort of had a crush on.  And by "that other time", I sort of mean every single time I find myself attracted to a guy.  But this guy...God why was I sweating so much?  Literally.  Like a crackhead jonesing for his next fix.  Oh God, he probably thinks I'm a tweaker.  I kept going into the bathroom to make sure I wasn't sweating too much.  You know, the too much that leaves pit stains.  

But he was nice.  Really engaged in conversation that didn't revolve around entertainment or clothes.  We talked politics and relationships.  It was nice.  He was nice.  And his voice.  Holy shit, his voice.  It was the kind that you'd want whispering stuff in your ear while you're doing something dirty--the pitch, low and deep, and the timbre, rich and full.  He had total phone sex voice...if you're into that kind of thing.  I'm not, but...you know...if I was, I'd totally be doing it with him.  But I'm not, so I won't...unless he asks.

We divvied up teams to play Taboo, my friend Mike almost insisting we divide up so I was included on his team, on the team that didn't include the Voice who was sitting immediately to my right.  Somehow, however, I ended up on the Voice's team, and I'm not really sure exactly how that happened because I had had two large and strong margaritas by then to calm my nerves, but I think the Voice had something to do with it.  

We won.  We were a good team.  We laughed a lot, but communicated well.  I think Taboo is a good way to gauge how well you'd do as boyfriends, at least that's what I'll tell him if he asks.  But then, he left.  I couldn't bring myself to ask for his number or to give him mine.  We ended with a handshake and a "good to meet you."

I thought about him the next day and the day after that, finally asking Green Lantern, the party's host for the Voice's last name which I then googled.  Hello.  Stalker much?  But, no.  No.  Way.  In.  Hell.  He was so down to earth that Friday.  Buzzed head, T-shirt, hoodie, ripped jeans and flip flops.  So unassuming and so charming.  But no way in hell!  I saw his pictures and his reel, and no way in hell.   

OK I thought he was cute when I saw him.  I was wrong.  I was beer goggling, or actually the reverse of beer goggling.  He wasn't cute.  He was fucking gorgeous and still with the hot voice.  There was no way in hell.  And I told Green Lantern, I was just far too intimidated to even send an email.

But I did.  I pecked at the keyboard as fast as I could, hitting return with my pinky trying not to think about it because if I did, I'd talk myself out of it.  And after it was all said and done, I realized that the worst that could happen is that I don't hear from him, and really that's not that bad.

Oh actually the worst that could happen is that I do hear from him, and he just points and laughs and laughs and points and then laughs again.  But really I don't think there's more than a 5% chance of that happening, and those are odds I'm willing to take.

That's it.  Really kind of a shitty climax for a story, isn't it.  

Week In Review '08.29

7/12 - Job #2 is actually going really well.  It's actually not a job in the sense of a daily grind or working for the man because at Job #2 I AM the man, well me and my two business partners who are bigger shareholders.  But it is going well.  It's still fun.  It's still profitable.  But it's a shitload more work than I'd expected.  So that's what I did Saturday.

Afterwards, I was invited to an exhibition opening at the museum at which Dutch works.  It was a nice casual evening at a hoity toity location with free booze.  Only thing is I didn't even get to see the exhibit.  In fact I don't even know what the exhibit was...something about architecture, I think.

7/13 - There's this little hole in the wall place on Ventura, just east of Laurel Canyon called Jumpin' Java Kitchen.  The blueberry pancakes are so fucking awesome!  Went there to have brunch with Razor Burn and Unicorn before going to the beach to play some volleyball.  So not a good idea, although it didn't matter because I didn't stay long.

When I played regularly about a year ago (although I should say when I was addicted to volleyball up until a year ago), the volleyball crew was a lot of fun, but competitive too.  It's sort of morphed into just competitive in my absence.  What can I say?  I bring the fun!  But not this Sunday.  What a bunch of douchebags.  I left early and did nothing.  And enjoyed it!

7/14 - For the first time in about a decade, I ate at McDonald's.  Jealous?  I had chicken strips and their fruit and walnut salad, although using the word "salad" to describe ten walnut pieces, five apple wedges and a yogurt dip is really taking liberties with the word.  Jealous now?  Oh and the McDonald's was in Inglewood.  So I was the only Asian there, and Dutch was the only white guy there.  How about now?  Jealous yet?  Well you should be because we just stopped off there to grab a quick bite before seeing Coldplay open their Viva La Vida tour and it was fucking off the hook.  Seriously, probably tied for being the best concert I've been to.  

7/15 - This week, as far as work is concerned was pretty shitty.  One of the other doctors is on vacation and will be for the following week as well which means I have to deal with whatever emergencies his patients have...like the woman who needed to be seen emergently for a cyst on her butt.  I figured that was OK, likely a perirectal abscess or something that needed to be drained.  Some emergency like that.  

It was a centimeter in diameter.  It didn't hurt.  It had been there for seven years without change, but it was coming up on another summer bathing suit season, and she had just gotten tired of it.  That was the emergency that couldn't wait until her regular doctor returned.

Fuck me!

Suffice it to say, every day this week was like running a marathon in molasses trying to make it to the end of the day, and after being up til 1:00 am because of the Monday night concert, it was doubly worse.

Yet it didn't end.  I had a date with my trainer after work between 7:00 to 8:15, then rushed off to meet Tiger and G-squared for G-squared's birthday.  We went to Kitchen 24, a relatively new, hip, very reasonably priced, comfort food all night diner on the Cahuenga pass.  It's about time something like that opened up there.  And it was good!

7/16 - Work.  Played volleyball.  Went home.

7/17 - Worked my half day and thought I'd be able to get in a work out before seeing my first client at Job #2, and I did.  I went to Smooth's gym and ran three miles, but then got a call from a pharmaceutical rep: "Hey Dr. V, I'm at the sushi restaurant and was wondering if you got stuck in traffic."  Fuck, I didn't think we'd confirmed lunch, but I bailed on weight training, showered, and got to the restaurant ten minutes after the call.  The problem with getting ready so quickly is that I hadn't had a chance to cool down, so I was sweating buckets for about ten minutes during lunch.  The waitstaff looked at me as though I had to be infectious or something.

Then I worked at Job #2.  O Bar.  Went home.

7/18 - This by far was the worst work day.  Everyone needed to be seen before the weekend.  Walk-ins came in.  Calls kept coming for people needing to be seen that day, but refused to go to the Urgent Care.  I was so exhausted that I bailed out on running the planned five miles--yeah I'm kind of on a mission right now.

I was even thinking of bailing on a poker/game night event hosted by Green Lantern, but I felt badly about now having hung out with him in a long time.  It's a good thing I didn't because I met a 37 year old single designer with the sexiest voice I have ever heard, and this was such a fortuitous meeting because...um...well, I'm probably not going to do anything about it since I was too much of a pussy to ask him for his number or give him mine.  

Nevermind.

Horrible

Joss Whedon.  Neil Patrick Harris.  Musicals.  Superheroes.  Dr. Horrible is anything but.  Actually for a Grade A homo comic book dork who loved Buffy, this is perfection.

Tinkerbell

It was fall.  We sat at the tables of the dining room, arranged in E formation, the sound of young men talking and laughing bouncing off the walls and floor and ceiling in an ever increasing din until the sound of the gavel striking the table called the room's attention.  

It was exciting to be among the group, with them and equal, as a full fledged brother in the fraternity.  I think I must have daydreamed through some of the announcements, thinking about how this was a new chapter in my life, considering the doors that would now be open to me.  Yes, I was that naive.  But my mind had to have been drifting off somewhere because to this day I remember being pulled back into the moment at the sound of a voice I did not recognize. 

From the corner diametrically opposite my own, a deep, booming voice had chimed in, "Some of you may not know me.  I wasn't around much last semester..."  And even then, before I'd truly figured things out, he left an impression.  6'2" with broad shoulders.  Square jaw with a cleft chin.  Blonde hair, blue eyes.  He could have been named Thor.  He wasn't.  But Nordic.  Definitely Nordic.  

By semester's end, we had become fast friends, inseparable due to similar upbringings and interests and temperaments.  The following semester, along with a third brother, we became roommates.  Interestingly enough, our suite (we had taken two adjacent rooms built a door in between furnishing the front room with a bar and couch and the back with bunk beds) was soon to be dubbed the rainbow coalition room; he was white, I was Asian and the third, African American.

He left the next semester for a semester abroad in France  But he wrote almost every other week (this was before the age of e-mails and texts) writing how grateful he was that I, unlike any of the other brothers, responded to his letters with regularity.  His letters always ended the same "Tu me manque, mon pote".  I missed him too.

But France changed him.  He had taken classes on feminism and identified as such, voicing his disgust at pledge functions that involved hazing and drinking songs that we all knew were misogynistic.  To the rest of us, though it was just fun and songs that meant nothing.  At least that's what we'd told ourselves.  He stood on his principles, however, and when convinced he could effect no change, he left.  And our friendship suffered I'm sure because I didn't follow suit.

It wasn't as though I didn't agree with him.  I was just of the opinion that he came off too strong, that he expected the change to occur overnight.  And after graduation, we may have spoken once or twice before losing track of each other until October of last year, when I got a message on one of those social networking sites: "DOCTOR Van?  Or do I have the wrong guy?  It looks like you in the photo.  Would love to hear how you've been."

After sixteen or seventeen years, things have changed little.  Sure, he now has a two year old son and a partner of almost ten years.  A female partner.  I didn't ask why they didn't get married; I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that they're both self-identified feminists.  Sure his sister is now involved in a same-sex relationship, and sure, he and I are both fully cognizant of my own sexual orientation.  But he's ever the liberal and as before ever as vocal, writing letters to congressmen and whoever else will listen to his take on the issues of war and the environment and education.  

It's inspiring actually.  And during the vegan meal including the organic lavender sorbet he and his partner had cooked for me last week, I thought I made the wrong choice in not leaving the fraternity as well, particularly since really he's now the only fraternity brother I still keep in touch with.

Oh, and Tinkerbell?  That was the nickname the fraternity had given him.  Not that he was at all effeminate, but rather as the biggest and most physical brother in his pledge class, it was thought to be an entertaining nickname by emasculating him somewhat, in exactly that same misogynistic and somewhat homophobic manner that Tinkerbell had always abhorred.

Week In Review '08.28

7/5 - I've already posted about my trip to Palm Springs.  All day by the pool.  It was awesome.  The only break we had was for dinner at Tropicale, supposedly the newest, hippest restaurant there.  Sweet as always, one of the girls in the group went up to the bartender and asked where to find young, gay men indicating that she was looking for men for me.  I loved the bartender's response: "I'm so glad you asked that question cause for a second I thought you were going to ask for a straight bar, and here, in this city, there aren't any cool places for breeders to go."  

7/6 - We basically just packed up and left the hotel, making a pitstop at Cabazon for some outlet shopping.  I got home, rested up a bit before meeting up with Razor Burn and Sunshine and Job #2 employees for a staff meeting.  I was all set to go home until Dutch called, convincing me to go to Here for drinks.  It was the strangest fucking night ever...not sure why, but just was.

7/7 - Worked out with the trainer.

7/8 - It was one of those magical weeks where I have two half days--Tuesday and Thursday.  I made the most of this day, doing a little work at Job #2, running three miles (and running into Smooth in the process...ugh) then treating myself to a massage and a little time in the sun.  Then...

I have a friend whose nickname is Tinkerbell.  For real.  That was the nickname we'd given him in fraternity.  I hadn't seen him for years, even though at one point he had been my best friend.  Recently we got back in contact with each other through one of those social networking sites and on Tuesday, I had dinner with him, his partner (female) and son.  It was really nice to reconnect and to do so with him knowing that I am gay and with my knowing he was completely unfazed by it.

7/9 - I'm back on for volleyball Wednesdays, and so glad for it.  Nothing like ending a long day with two hours of release of pent up aggression on the sand followed by a margarita and a light dinner at the beachside Mexican restaurant.  It was perfect.  Well except for being on call at 10:00 pm.

7/10 - I wasted two hours (unnecessary) of half day #2 getting the air in my tires replaced with nitrogen--better gas mileage and increased life of the tires.  Helped that the dealership offered it for free.  Then I zipped to my trainer's for my regular ass-kicking.  No O-Bar this week, which was sort of fortunate since I had an unexpected visit from a friend from out of town.

7/11 - Met up with Guido for possibly our last dinner at Chan Darae before he leaves town for good, followed by both meeting up with Sunshine and wife at Lola's for a birthday party.  

Tired...very tired.

It's Sunny Again

My favorite comedy is soon to be back...can't wait.

Long Weekend

Vacations suck.  
 
We planned this one last minute, maybe two weeks ago.  We tried to kill two birds with one stone, celebrating a birthday and taking advantage of a three day Independence Day weekend.  So this Saturday, I got up really early.  For a Saturday, particularly a Saturday of a long weekend, 7:00 am is really early.  Add to that an especially crappy night of insomnia that allowed only three hours of sleep.  But I had to get up to pack, shower and head off to meet the group by 8:00.  
 
By 8:30 we were on the road.  It took less than two hours before the desert landscape was abruptly replaced by green lawns, towering palms and quaint mid century buildings.  Yup, Palm Springs.  
 
This was one of the couple's idea.  They had spent a weekend several months ago at a boutique hotel.  They had had such a great time lounging by the pool and meeting some of the other guests, including one Jay Rodriguez.  Apparently they were one of a few straight guests that weekend, but still they had nothing but glowing reviews.  They came back raving, "Dude, you have to go!  There were tons of gay dudes, and all of them were really nice!"  I was sold despite the not so pleasant memories of my last venture out to Palm Springs with an ex--sketchy, clothing optional (and I opted in favor of clothing by the way) inns that left MUCH to be desired.  Besides, the promise of a relaxing poolside weekend with drinks and gourmet edibles convinced Sunshine and wife that this would be a perfect getaway.
 
We arrived at 10:30 but by then, the pool was already crowded.  All of the lounge chairs were taken.  And only two of them were occupied by obviously gay men.  As the day went on we discovered about six more, but still the crowd was very straight heavy.  The day seemed to pass slowly as we floated on foam pool mattresses with mojitos in hand.  Every once in a while, we'd order up whatever was offered on the menu.  It was all amazing--tuna tartar or the blood orange ceviche or the prawn skewers.  Then, we'd fall back to the order of the day, resting under the umbrellas covered chaises or floating in the water.  We and seemingly all the other guests were unaware of the fact that the temperature had reached about 110 degrees.  
 
We left the hotel only long enough to enjoy a nice dinner.  Tropicale was apparently the place to be.  True to the heyday of the town, it was a midcentury design, but updated to welcome an upscale crowd.  You could easily imagine Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin hanging out at this place in the 50s...well except for one thing.  This restaurant was overwhelmingly gay, not the restaurant itself but the clientele, and very openly so with men little concerned about resting a hand on a partners thigh or a quick little kiss on the cheek.   
 
We tried to find other ways to spend the night, but eventually found ourselves back at the hotel.  Back in the pool.  Until midnight.
 
It was perfect.  But sitting here at my desk, waiting for my next patient to show?  It's like having been offered a little peek into heaven and then having that ripped from you.  That's why vacations suck.  Well, that and the fact that the next one isn't until Labor Day...way too far away.

Oh, and I got to play around with a new lens.