How do you measure a year?

One night this week, after fixing my closet and doubling its space, I was watching the film version of Rent. I have to say, I don't really like the movie. Spoken lines that were sung in the stage version gives the film an eerie tone, making it that much more sad. I wasn't a huge fan of the stage version, either. But it will always mean something to me.

Rent opened in 1996, during my last semester in high school. I wouldn't see it for about two years, but I read the press, I heard the news. It was a play about AIDS. And gays.

I was 17 years old and living in fear in the closet. Here was a huge play about gays. I had to see it.

Would I relate? Probably not. I was an upper-middle-class white kid from Saugus, California. I'd never done any drugs in my life. Had a few drinks but not many. Barely had ever had sex. This was a story about broke twenty-somethings living in Manhattan, kicking heroin, and living with AIDS. Wow.

I did finally see it. It spoke to me but differently than I had imagined it would. I guess it was like when a black kid of my generation read about the lynchings of the 20s and 30s. I mean, at the same time Rent premiered, so did protease inhibitors and retroviral treatments that slowed the progression of HIV. People really were living with AIDS.

In my 28 years, I've never had a friend, or even aquaintance that I knew well enough, die from AIDS. I know that's not true for other gay folks just 10 years older than me. Even just 5 years older than me. Unfortunately, I know more people that are HIV-positive than I would hope, but they are living and for the most part are indistinguishable from you or I.

AIDS has shaped my entire community, but not me. Rent reminds me of that. That show, that I don't really like, leaves an important image in my mind about what could have been. Had I been 5 years or 10 years older, had I experimented carelessly, had I not had the wisdom and love of a wonderful family, Rent could have been my story. This could have been my story.

Now we are fortunate as a community. We are getting to fight over things like marriage equality and open (and honest) service in the military. Ten years ago, we were trying to stay alive.

I had a job interview today. I hope I get the job. I also have a weird condition with my skin. I am extremely itchy, not sleeping it's so bad, but you can't see anything on my skin: no redness, no dryness, no scaling. The itching is painful and burning. This is my problem. I'll go to the doctor and hopefully things will be okay. Hopefully, I'll get the job. I even have a date tomorrow.

La vie boheme!