Tikkun olam one "you" at a time.

Today I am posting a previously written entry (with a few edits). Am I copping out? Yes. Is there a reason? But of course.

As it is the first of the new year, I have heard much talk of new year's resolutions and a vague malaise with the state of the world. Elizabeth over at Screw Bronze in particular seems to be feeling awash in melancholia (although that seems to be getting her somewhere).

Being that I'm so god-damned happy n' shit, I thought I would repost something I wrote about tikkun olam (healing the world). Read up!

It’s ok to be tired of AIDS.

It’s exhausting. I learned very early on in my social justice career that you can’t fight every fight.

You have to choose one and trust that someone else is going to pick up the slack on the others.

I have chosen HIV – or rather, HIV, somewhere along the way, chose me.

If I can’t trust that others are doing their part, I find it desperately hard to focus on my own part. Someone will fight for peace in the middle East. It is something I care about deeply.

Someone will be an environmentalist – that’s not to say that I don’t recycle, I just don’t attend rallies. Will I see Al Gore’s new movie? You bet I will! I’m not an ostrich, I’m just focused. I’m not entirely sure that I should, but the optimist (tiny and weak though she may be) trusts that someone out there is focused on ending the genocide in Darfur. Please?

I used to hear, when I told people what I do, "that must be so hard." It’s not hard, in as much as any challenging job is hard. Just like any other job, it is boring and fun and frustrating and intellectually stimulating, if you are as lucky as I am.

Making my life’s work to do tikkun olam (repair the world) is what I have always known I would do. I will always, even if I leave this job, do something to help repair the world.

Here’s to Jeff, Janis, Shane, Frank, David, Michael, Connie, Anthony, Wayne, Jerry, Ron, Joey, Carlos. People I was honored to know, adore and work with over the years. I raise a diet coke to your memories. Here’s also to Bill, Charlie, Chris, David, Diane, Donna, Drew, Ernie, Francis, Gary, Glenn, Jane, Jeff, Jim, Joe, John, Justin, Kathie, Kristin, Larry, Laura, Margaret, Mark, Marty, Mary Ann, Matt, Michael, Michelle, Peter, Phil, Philip, Richard, Ricky, Ruben, Sal, Shannon, Shawn, Stephan, Steven, Terry, and many, many, many more that encouraged me, that laughed with me, that laughed at me (2 words - suntan pantyhose), that taught me so much, that fought alongside me.

I will retire in about 25 years. The epidemic will be 50 years old. A lot can happen in 25 years.

Choose something.