The Sermon on Sunday

"What you have doesn't change who you are. Who you are changes what you have."

Words of wisdom from my minister today. She's awesome!

Help Cheronda, Help Help Cheronda....

Cheronda Guyton, former senior vice president for foreclosed real estate at Wells Fargo, who was recently fired for moving herself and her family into one of those foreclosed properties in Malibu, CA (asking price: $12 million) for several months (for free!) this past summer, this song's (with apologies to the Beach Boys) for you:

Help Cheronda! Help, help Cheronda!
Help Cheronda! Help, help Cheronda!
Help Cheronda! Help, help Cheronda!
Help Che-ron-da, yeah! Get her out of our hearts!

Forgive Them, For They Know Not What They Do

I cannot imagine what Caster Semenya is going through right now. This is the South African woman who has been tearing up international track races in recent weeks. Medical tests confirm that she has an intersex condition. How can something so profoundly personal have been handled in such an insensitive manner by governing track authorities and the international media? Most people would go ape shit if you went through their laptop. This incident was an invasion of the most private parts of a person and yet countless people are trampling through her body like a pack of rabid dogs, on the Internet so that everyone in the world knows, for crying out loud. My heart aches for her.

I remember the time I told a "friend" about my HIV status when I had first found out. He was the only one who knew. A few weeks later, an acquaintance walked up to me in a club and asked if I was really HIV+. I felt so vulnerable and violated. I hate what happened to me that night because a part of me would never trust anyone in the world ever again.

Whatever happens to Caster Semenya, I hope she can find it in herself to overcome. And forgive.

Goodbye S

My friend S died last week of a brain tumor. He was 29. I feel so hollow. Life is so random. Last week I marveled at how the smallest things could make my day: a 3 year-old child who decided to bestow a smile on me; a Starbucks barista who refilled my coffee for free; someone who steadied my balance as the subway came to a screeching halt. And today, I hear the news that S is gone.

S ate more than anyone else I knew, relishing every last bite. He could devour four packages of ramen noodles in one sitting. The last time I saw him at the hospital, he gobbled down the hospital food for crying out loud. S was an avid snowboarder and skiier. He loved going to baseball games. When he laughed, he laughed out loud and silly.

If I had known I would never see him again, I would have asked him for his snowboard.

I don't know how to snowboard.