They're creepy and they're cooky, quite churlish and so spooky

I've taken to grading guys as I see them. Some degree of discretion is given, maybe they're a C or C- depending on how inebriated I am. In defense of my scale, it rarely gets a B+ or more.

In college, I had a professor of Baldwin who had an acid flashback in the middle of class one day. It was unusual because she was otherwise rather strict and rigid. I mean, she insisted that our final papers be delivered to her office by a specific time, left under her door. And I recall racing across campus that morning to deliver it to an empty office, under that door.

Since having shed the fat after my massive, life-threatening infection last fall, it's so nice to be able to wear t-shirts again.

Abercrombie and Bitch

The progress on my health has been infinitesimally slow and steady. On the plus side (and there are actually several plus sides, all things considered), I stop by Subway to get something to eat after the infusion. So, there's a treat for myself if ever there was one.

I had a feared teacher in middle school who, whenever anyone would sneeze, would continue teaching, but bring a tissue to the person. We always thought this was hysterical, though in retrospect, it was just polite.

Sometimes when I walk by certain people on the street, I like to imagine their internal monologue or a soundbite from their life. Granted, it's not usually very nice.

No hard stops

Since my life has become 60% Prime and Netflilx now, I've realized from many shows that it's easier on the ears when they transition from a song playing in the foreground to one of the characters listening to it on earphones or in their room, so I now try to mirror this in my own life when I come home by turning the music down first before turning it off.

Have you ever walked by someone who smells like a combination of fabric softener and a fart?

When people use air quotes, even appropriately, it gives me a headache.

We was all at the Met Ball havin' a good time

Sunday's visit to church with Zela, for all the anxiety I produced over it, was fairly uneventful. She seemed tolerant of the event, took pics of some of the pastor's quotes shown on the screen, and declined to meet him and the family pastor afterwards. We did lunchies afterwards and caught up, then parted ways. No biggie, and I don't get the sense that she'll be joining me again.

I spent the night at my best friend Ralph's house in fifth grade, and the next morning, we were having breakfast with his dad. Ralph said something untoward, and his dad blew up at him, saying, "Christopher, you have a wild hair up your ass this morning, and I suggest you pull it out!" I'd never heard that phrase before, so started laughing uncontrollably while trying to gulp down my cereal. But it got so bad, I had to race to the bathroom to get my guffaws out in private before I could return to the table.

I greatly look forward to the day when we have solar-powered cell phones.

The more, the scarier

I invited Zela to church with me this week as part of my church's Bring a Friend thing, and she's coming. We're doing lunchies afterwards. I kind of got an inkling that it was meant to be when I ran into her the other day walking down the street. I had started off on my side of the street, and crossed over to the other, which I don't normally do. And lo and behold, there she was on her way to some kickboxing or Bikram class. I asked her by text last week, and had felt mildly anxious about it, but it may actually be nice to be there with a friend. For once.

My first quarter in college, I had a professor named Professor Kallet-Marx whose class was seventy five full fucking minutes long. Hence, I referred to her as PKM 75 for the rest of the quarter.

It was only the other day when I noticed some well-dressed dude riding a scooter up a hill that that's once again a thing, lest we forget the Razor craze of the early 2000s.

And mama used to say Beyoncé

I was on the bus the other day, and some old man at the front got into it with the driver. I didn't hear what they were saying, but I turned down my music just long enough to hear the old man yell back at him, "Nonsense!" I died.

I'm on Target's do not rehire list. I worked there for a hot minute in the nineties just so I could afford enough to buy a new pair of contacts while being reprimanded left and right by the old biddy lifers, and didn't give the required two-week notice. I'm hoping this doesn't become an issue later on in life.

I wish someone would put together a supercut of Bad Janet from "The Good Place."

Perspicacity sounds like a black girl name, huh?

I had a forty-something co-worker when I was a teen who bought me and my friends alcohol one or two times. It was awesome at the time, but I can't say I'd return the favor today.

Sometimes things are going so well for me that I like to imagine a hellish world where demons are always at me knocking down drinks, tripping me on the sidewalk, forcing the wrong button on the keyboard.

I like Anna Kendrick and all, but find her to be a touch insufferable in those Hilton commercials.

The grit, the smell, and the moderate sense of satisfaction: my first time volunteering

So I says to myself, I says, You're a Christian, ya gotta serve. That's the term they use in shorthand to mean serving in God's name. At least I think it does. So I reached out to City Impact asking about volunteering, and specifying that I work(ed) in HR and had familiarity with computer programs. Homegirl said she would get back to me, and a week later, I sent her a follow up, offering even to be a part of their Adopt a Building program. She apologized, saying the person who coordinates admin tasks was out of town, but invited me to show up at their next Adopt a Building event.

I was on the fence about it since A) I'm always hesitant to try new things and be around new people and B) it was on a Sunday from 2:00 to 5:00, which is prime nap time for me. But I rallied, and made my way down to the Tenderloin around 1:30 today.

At first, I couldn't find the place since they've got an adjunct building with the same name of the actual address, but a different number. So I called the coordinator, left a message, and was headed back home when I found the place.

I was greeted with the fresh smell of pee (which was fairly omnipresent the whole time) as I walked to the door, headed inside, and was greeted by a smiling older woman who gave me a name tag and ushered me into a small auditorium.

There was no more than 50 people present, and the head dude was giving some sort of intro as I walked in. He wrapped up, and handed the floor over to a millennial who kept saying "the crazy thing is," which quite irked me. I was also under the impression that this was a non-denominational type of gig, which was swiftly corrected by virtue of the large cross on stage. Further, after the millennial wrapped up, the first older dude returned to the stage and started telling this tale of a homophobic guy who, "through God's great humor," had been coupled with a group of trannies to assist, and as the trannies kept coming back to church, slowly but steadily, they shed their finery for fucking sweatpants. And then they all went out to the mountains for a hike, so "they were able to leave that lifestyle."

Seriously, that's the story the dude told. And "lifestyle" is almost always code for "gay lifestyle" and therefore bad bad bad, but I just kind of rolled my eyes internally, and waited for the next steps.

I was grouped with another newbie named Chad who was washed out and freckly, and had the personality of a pumice stone; and two other more tenured folks, Conchita and Chuck. Conchita seemed intent on telling stories of God's providence throughout the day both to us and to our wards for the day, most all of whom were surprisingly pleasant (I guess you would be if you're getting free food). I couldn't follow all of her ramblings, and did tire from standing a time or two while also avoiding the persistent fruit flies who must have fucking followed me from home.

I have to say here, too, that church people are notoriously humorless. I've encountered this in the two small groups in which I've been at Epic, and this lot was no exception. Like, Conchita's name tag read "Empress," which I thought was a cheeky nickname she'd given herself to suggest a haughty demeanor, but it was, in fact, the name of the building we were serving. So I didn't even bother trying to make a joke out of it because she would have just stared at me blankly, I'm sure.

Before we left, Conchita had endeared one of the tenants to come to the church, so he joined as as we headed back. One block in, he asked just how far it was because he had COPD, so as we stood there, boxes in hand, decently dressed people in the Tenderloin, of course Pumice Stone and I are approached by a transient who asks us for money and then tells us of some apartment building his dad left to him that he's trying to get back. I don't give him any money since I didn't know what City Impact's policy is on that, but did stay and help interest in his story. Pumice Stone noticed our peeps heading back to the hotel, and said something like, "Sorry, sir, we have to go," and walks away. I tell the guy sorry and God bless, and he says something about Pumice Stone being evil.

In any event, we regroup back at City Impact and give our final thoughts. I say it felt satisfying and easier than expected, and ask for some of their fliers, with plans to hand them out along with dollar bills to people who ask. We say our final prayers, and I trek up the mighty hill of Jones St. back home.

The reason I did this was to challenge myself, and I succeeded on that front. Not sure I will go again next week. Hopefully they'll come up with some admin work I can do sitting in a nice, comfy office, but we're gonna be a good little Christian and leave it up to God.

Malfunction. Stop. Restart.

Ah, non-existent online friends!

When last I left you, I had been feeling quite under the weather, and had gone to the doctor's. Looking back at my last entry, I had forgotten all about this step I'd taken because not but a few weeks after that adventure, my friends, Roze and Lea, having not heard from me or seen any evidence of me online, had mounted a search and rescue campaign that involved the police knocking down my door and taking me, blissfully unconscious and near death, to the hospital. I was first taken to St Mary's because it's near my house, and then transported to UC.

They identified a major infection that had attacked my heart and brain, so a valve replacement and two cranial surgeries later, I was deposited into my own hospital bed, and the recovery began. It took awhile for my brain to come back online, and I remember trying to explain something about work to Lea and Mia when they came to visit me in the hospital, and it was quite off course.

A call had been made to my poor mom in the middle of the night, and with the help of her cousin, she booked the next flight to SF. In my state of ignorant euphoria, I'd just decided that all answers would come later, and I would enjoy the ride for now.

Another two back to back surgeries were done, and then I was shipped off to ghetto rehab in Vallejo. The tragedy of this whole experience was that I had no contact lenses in the whole time, so I was seeing some weird, but interesting stuff while in the hospital, and creating some pretty vivid and frightening tales in my mind about what was going on.

Back at rehab, I did not know the rules or hadn't paid attention when they were explained to me, but I got in trouble several times for getting up out of my bed on my own. It was also a mildly useless endeavor as I couldn't see properly, so the speech therapy was mostly for nought, even when I pressed my nose as close to the piece of paper with the little drawings and words on it. I was desperate to escape, but my stay coincided with Thanksgiving, so that stretched it out to a full week, even though I asked to be released earlier.

When the time came and I was picked up by my mom and Aunt Sandra, we drove back to SF, and I wasn't home for even a week before the pain started up in my leg. It was then back to the hospital for another surgery to correct the blood flow in my leg. Followed two months later by eye surgery to remove lesions behind my eye. Followed then by a trip to the ER to fast-track connecting with Neurology to address the nerve death sensation in my extremities. I've also been back to UC for two IVMF infusion treatments to relax the milon in the nerves so feeling will return, and am due to return next week.

It has been a very slow, but steady recovery process, but I lost a ton of weight while ill, so it's like I got free liposuction. And I'm coasting on disability, and will be pursuing permanent disability through my employer, so will most likely not have to work ever again. I've reached out to City Impact to offer to volunteer, and am just waiting to hear back from them. And I'm due to get some retro Social Security payment in several months.

I got baptized shortly before this all went down, and can't help but think that, yes, Jesus had a role in bringing me down low and then lifting me to these current heights. I've been rebooted, and am so grateful.