Sure, I believe in the cause . . .

But I wouldn't be here if I didn't need money.

So, the Fund finally got me . . . d'you know how many jobs from them I've gotten and then turned down over the years? Well, I'm gonna do this for now.

When I got to orientation I thought this kid RC was a dude, but wow, I wasn't looking closely, eh?! She's a stud. (Like a butch, but she doesn't like the connotations of that, which are apparently different where she comes from.) She's a stud and an "aggressive female" and, though we didn't discuss it further, she admitted that she looks 14 -- which actually she does not, unless you think she's a boy. RC reminds me of Krystle in certain ways, mainly her mild lewdness and extra-proud lesbian pride. Melissa seems really cool, and funny that I pegged her "lesbian gender" and she knows it, too. Then they asked me if I was a lesbian and that was real awkward.

Jason, the field manager, heard I was from Miami and told me about how he got arrested at the anti-FTAA protests. He also tried to be a gentleman to me by holding my fliers and then giving me the ones with a rubber band. On the plus side, he called this train conductor a bitch (for telling us she'd skip our stop! And then not actually doing it anyway) and then he immediately turned around and apologized to me. Yeah to the perks of being seen as a woman.

Matt, the director, reminds me of a couple other guys I know. I'm impressed that he'd move out here just for this job.

At one point Matt and I knocked on this door of a house with a beautiful garden that included a US flag, a pace rainbow flag, and a statue of the Virgin Mary. The folks who lived there were a couple, two white women in their seventies or eighties, wearing matching shades of lavendar. (I am not kidding.) They were really sweet and friendly. One of them asked me how old I was, to be out here like this, a young fellah like me.

"Em, ah, I'm twenty-two."

"Twenty-two! I never would've guessed! You need to grow yourself a beard or something."

I laughed, "Yeah."

And Matt turned so red. He is a blond-haired white boy from Wisconsin, and his entire face is apparently capable of flushing as bright as a tomato. I wonder if the lavendar women noticed.

When we left, he apologized to me, and I said it was no big deal, it was my life. I don't know why I didn't say something more . . . . useful.

At least Matt got over it, and didn't make a big deal out of every other house this happened with.

I raised a lot of money for a first-timer, they told me. So let's see if I can do this.