05.04.15 :: 11.04.15

1.
Today started out so promising. Motivated. Ambitious. I even made a to-do list. Then the realization that my CV is only saved on the hard drive that went missing in the US, and how much other super important stuff is on there that I'll never see again and I've somehow lost my e-cig (there aren't that many places it could go) and I took a break from not smoking (it's a holiday, sort of...) and. Just and.

2.
Alright. We're just going to restart the day.

3.
On the plus side, the meds are making a small improvement. After my crashnburn the other day I did pull myself out of it pretty quick. It just throws me off when I'm walking on what I think is steady ground and land in a sinkhole that deep. It's like there's no middle ground, just pingponging from one extreme to the other. But that's what my emotions are like - no shades, just primary colours.

4.
For the record, at this particular moment, I'm in a pretty damn good mood. Just to break up the whining and complaining a little.

5.
Last time I was home (parents, UK side), my mom asked a question I hadn't really thought about *: what do I do about my spirituality?

*I've thought about it, but didn't tie it to my anxiety, et al issues. I've thought a lot about not having channels to express it. 

Oh, man. There are going to be so many tangents here, but we'll get through it.

Okay. My mom was(is) a pretty unconventional mom, which led me to develop skills I am so, so grateful I have now, even if it is frustrating that no one else seems to grasp them. She didn't tell me who I was; she let me decide that from as long as I remember.

On the other hand, this made things slightly confusing when I had to integrate with the general populace. Being an only child as well, I didn't learn all the social lies people tell verbally (and more importantly, nonverbally). I'm not saying this right.

It's weird believing in things that are totally different. There's no church, no religion, no wise-and-benevolent mentor (humour me) to go to when you need spiritual guidance. There's only absolute, totally blind faith that you are going the right way and you aren't just totally nuts.

So. Being the only kid of a weird mom, this free form interpretation of belief was the norm. Even though the extended family is all Catholic (both sides, but we'll stick with the maternal since they were the ones who were around as a kid), I just that's what Catholic was. There were always imps and spirits and magic and not a whole lot of Jesus, and no one thought it was weird or unusual. Even when my mom bartered me off to God and Sunday Catechism, it didn't really click. There weren't a lot of Catholics in our town to begin with (seriously, at one point the church almost became a parking lot to another denomination before some artists got involved), so I only saw the ones my age on Sundays, and ideas about religion and faith really don't come up much with eight year olds.

The first person I lived with after my parents, Nothing had a weirdly similar belief structure and we easily integrated our different slants of magic. I've never been able to do that with anyone else. Point is, I was in my mid-twenties before I really ran into the whole religion vs. spirituality complication.

I dealt with that by closing it off and sliding by as a lapsed Catholic. Every once in awhile, I'd dip into it again, but always secretly and guiltily, and it never really worked. I just felt lonely and emptier. Occasionally, I'd try to fit in with religions that had a few things that fit around my beliefs, but that never lasted either. The zealousness on both ends of the spectrum are pretty insufferable, and I'm not so good with institutions.

Since I'm my own therapist now (thank you, NHS; this is exactly the sort of care foreigners are flocking to England to take advantage of. Go vote, UK!), I've been thinking a lot about when I've felt best in myself (most stable, happy, etc.) and I keep coming back to that time with Nothing. Now, I'm not painting it out as all sunshine and rose. It was fucking hard. We were poor as shit (at one point our furniture consisted of two lawn chairs and an air mattress we kept conning Wal-Mart into replacing). We were young and stupid about everything. But that's kind of the point. That was way harder than anything I have to deal with now. Things that debilitate me now couldn't affect me then.

And since then, since I started shutting myself off spiritually, I've gotten more rigid, more twitchy. The hardest thing for me to do is watching something with subtitles because I can't do anything else, which sucks because I really like foreign films. (I'm watching Brooklyn Nine Nine while writing this, and if I had more hands, I'd be doing something on the iPad, too.)

So. Mom's question. I told you there'd be a lot of tangents. I didn't think about it much then (things take awhile to process in my head). But then it occurred to me there might be something to it. Mindfulness is supposed to help anxiety and all that.

It might not amount to anything. And it is fucking hard to sit still for any amount of time. I started doing yoga to help with the chill out part. I've been being more adventurous with food, and actually cooking interesting things that take time to make (which, oddly, increases the enjoyment of it).

I still wish there were other people. I'm a community-driven misanthrope.

6.
I am stuck. Every day I try to get somewhere with this behemoth, to write anything, and it just doesn't work. I can't even write crap. There's just nothing there.

7.
I feel like a fraud.

8.
I keep trying to figure out what it is, why I'm stuck. Why I can't bring myself to put anything down even though my notebook is sitting there, ready and waiting.

I read over what I've written already. I do outlines and sketches. I look at maps. I watch documentaries and news reports on YouTube.

I google writing prompts and tips on what to do when you're stuck with your novel.

They don't help.

I meditate. I listen to music. I get bored with that station and change it. This happens five more times. I try to read but I can't sit still and only get through a paragraph or two before I call it quits. I watch funny things, serious things, sad things, weird things.

I google writing prompts again. I look at pictures.

I think about what I need to do and what I haven't done yet (I need to book train tickets, it's time to clean again, call the dentist, etc.).

I lie on my bed and think about my world but I don't know what to do with it. I feel like a failure, like I can't do this, Like I've used up whatever it is that lets me make things up. I feel flat. I'm a cardboard cutout of myself, flimsy and dry and only realistic from a distance.

I think about not taking my meds anymore. Is that really what it comes down to?

I stand on my balcony in the sun and watch the people in the parking lot and think about how amazing the sun is.

I go for walks.

I think, I can't write this story. I think, It's all in my head. I just need to do it. Just write any scene at any point. It doesn't matter. I just need to write something.

I hide from the bee that keeps coming into my room.

I think about doctors and health problems and how all of that just wears me out. I miss people. I scroll through Twitter and Facebook. I think about getting a job. I google jobs in Canterbury and think about how shit they all are and how I don't want to do any of them.

I dodge questions on how the novel's going.

I google writing tips and inspiration and first lines.

I think, I'm just trying too hard. The watched pot and all that so I play games and pretend I'm not looking to see if my subconscious is doing something.

I sit in silence. I sit in sound. I stare at walls.

I wish someone had some truly helpful advice. I wonder how people who sit and write every day pull it off. Where they get their words. I remember I used to be one of them. I wonder what happened. I wonder why it's so hard when I know the story, I know what happens, to just get it out of my head. I think if I could just get it out, it would finally be quiet in there.

Repeat on a daily basis. 

PS You have to be brave.

"One has to have a complicated kind of optimism. You can't refuse to look at how horrible things are."

Many, many things have happened since last we spoke, but I'm not going to talk about them. Enough has been said and said and said about them that adding anything more at this point would just be rehashing things already done and sometimes, sometimes we all need a little space to breathe.

"Sometimes it's like watching a delicate flower surrounded in snow, and it tries to stand up, but the snow just keeps crushing it."

There is a certain weariness that attaches itself to life. We're taught and told that adversity breeds strength, that the injuries we suffer build character and enable us to move forward. Persevere. There's a lot of importance attached to that. The ability to persevere. It's noble. It's honorable. Whatever happens, we shall hold our heads up and comport ourselves with dignity. We will conceal all wounds and smile blithely even while blood soaks through layers and layers...

"Don't be afraid; people are so afraid; don't be afraid to live in the raw wind, naked, alone... Learn at least this: What you are capable of. Let nothing stand in your way."

I wonder about that. Is our strength founded in the pain we feel, or do we only discover it at the bottom of the box when everything has already been taken out? Is it just that thing we are left holding in the end, pushing us to move breathe sleep eat because ultimately, whatever we would like to say or believe about ourselves, we are programmed to survive and even when our cognitive identity crumbles, that innate, unignorable programming kicks in and demands you will carry on. Is that noble?

"I'm just tired of it. I'm tired of feeling like shit when I didn't do anything wrong, and being angry when there isn't anything I can do to fix it, having to be the one responsible for knowing how to fix it - like I have any idea - and just. All of it. I wish it would just stop and go away."

There are those who don't, I suppose. Those who get so much piled around them that all they can do is collapse beneath it. Are they less noble for their inability to persevere? Are they damaged, flawed, unsaveable, deserving of pity because obviously they must not be imbued with this strength that is so vital, so admirable, so indicative of someone worthy of respect?

"Respect the ecology of your delusions."

There is a comfort and a danger in spending too much time in a nonexistent world. In the things we create, the stories and lives and events we manufacture, there is an order and logic to the messiest of situations. Every line of speech has significance. Every action is meaningful. Nothing is arbitrary, and you can be assured of that. But if you linger too long on that side of the glass, you start interpreting life itself with the same codebook, when the truth is there are no layers of metaphor to unwind. A mess is a mess and nothing more. The virtues - the ideals, the beliefs - you try to hold on to break down, wear down, are stolen from you. Sometimes without you even realising. You think you still have them and one day you find yourself in need of one, so you reach into the box and pull out something that looks vaguely like honesty or integrity or whatever else it is you might be seeking, but it's not quite what you expected. It's not quite what you remember it being.

"I'm not suited for this. I'm not designed for it. I don't like it. I can't even remember to breathe regularly without thinking about it, and that's supposed to be automatic. I'm trapped in the teeniest of cages without even any door that I might try for an escape. And maybe I could bear it if there were more room to move around, but I am pressed and squeezed into this limited space until so often I feel like I'm just going to burst out of it but it never yields. I don't think I am a creature that was ever meant to be forced into corporeal form. I find it awkward and unwieldy. And maybe that's why I have such difficulty trying to place myself amongst tangible things - I don't spend much time in the physical realm, and the things that exist there don't hold any importance to me." 

And maybe it's better that what you pull out isn't quite that thing you thought it was, because the world has no use for them. They're a little like fairy stories; things we tell ourselves at night to make the dreams easier to catch. Take honesty. We are, generally speaking, expected to be honest, but not too honest. If you are too honest, you're mean. You're heartless. So we develop a practice of speaking in half-truths, reading between the lines, accepting the little lies we give each other to spare someone's feelings. This is more acceptable than true honesty, but no one knows why. I've asked.

"You have a good heart and you think the good thing is to be guilty an kind but it's not always kind to be gentle and soft, there's a genuine violence softness and kindness visit on people. Sometimes self-interested is the most generous thing you can be."

Inevitably, because we're trying so hard to be careful and respectful, to follow these proscribed standards of behaviour that allow us acceptance as members of the whole, there are misunderstandings, complications, confrontations, those injuries that foster that much-sought-after attribute of strength. It's part of life, they say. Everyone experiences it. Just keep your chin up, kid, and remember that smile. Maybe, even if we weren't expected to perform two contradictory actions simultaneously, these things would happen anyway. Maybe they wouldn't.

"But failing in love isn't the same as not loving. It doesn't let you off the hook, it doesn't mean... you're free to not love."

So we misunderstand each other. We hurt each other. We hide from each other and we scream at each other. We allow moments of great silence to fill the cracks that had been made. We try to replace those silences with words that mean nothing in the hopes that over time they'll start to mean something again. We tell ourselves to be strong. That the strength we've discovered or developed or however we came by it will see us through every moment of shaky ground. We try to put our faith back together. Perhaps that is the most difficult thing of all. Once the yelling is done. Once the silence has lasted too long. Once all parties sit humbled and hurt, there is still the matter of faith, and whether or not it has been truly lost. If there is still even a hint of faith left, or maybe even just the desire for faith... Maybe, in the end, that is all strength really is.

"It isn't easy, it doesn't count if it's easy, it's the hardest thing. Forgiveness. Which is maybe where love and justice finally meet." 

The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers

More and more as I go through life, I find the fellow members of my species alienating. Rather, I feel more like an alien than one of them. The list of things they do that I don’t understand grows exponentially nearly every day, and I’m not sure if it’s because I forgot the reason, or forgot how to pretend I know the reason, or if it’s a case of the pretending getting harder and harder the longer I do it.

I don’t understand the things they value and seek out, or the vast array of little rituals they have for themselves and each other for every situation. I don’t understand their morality, their ability to bend that morality to always be in their favour, or their ability to do that same thing with honesty, integrity and loyalty.

I feel ridiculous for casting those things – morality, honesty, integrity, loyalty – as my principle deities most of the time, but only when I’m with other people. In Sashiland, those four things are unbreakable. Yet I find myself constantly compromising every part of myself – even the most essential and sacred parts of myself – for the sake of interacting with these creatures who are supposed to, somehow, be the same as me.

The loneliness is difficult to carry. I don’t even mean loneliness the way most people do. You tell people you’re lonely and they automatically presume you’re looking for someone to fuck, short term or long term. Someone to settle down with, etc. No, it’s not that. I don’t think that’s really very important, but there isn’t a word for the thing I’m looking for and people give you judging looks when you say a romantic relationship isn’t on your list of priorities. <i>(And why should it be when the furthest ahead you can plan your life – at best – is 7 months?)</i>

‘Loneliness’ to me is the loneliness of Tigger. The unicorn. Whatever other Only Ones there are out there. I’ve never liked unicorns, though, and Tigger is bouncy, flouncy, trouncy, pouncy fun.

Because that’s the thing – those creatures who are supposed to be the same as me, they live in either/or. They have packs and groups, identifiers that mark them as part of a collective. Things they can hold up and say: Yes, I fit here. And I live in the shades of grey. I don’t fit into any single religion, sexuality, gender, nationality, culture, subculture or even interest group. There isn’t any part of me that isn’t at least a duality, if not multiplicity. The only thing that can be pinned down as set and immovable (aside from having to check the door at least three times to make sure it’s locked and the certainty that <i>everything</i> in my apartment will be arranged by size and parallel alignment) is the Holy Quartet.

I do come across the occasional soul who comes… close. They say all the right things, and probably even manage to keep it up for awhile, but ultimately, something always slips. There’s always that disappointment over one of them.

Honesty. Loyalty. Morality. Integrity.

I don’t know a single person who hasn’t let me down on at least one of those principles,  and it’s very, very hard to slip on just one once you’ve gotten started. The ones that take the longest to disappoint me hurt the most. I expect the disappointment. I can deal with that. Losing the brief illusion that I do indeed have a tribe – even a tribe of two – gets harder every time. Harder to get up and keep going. Harder to hold onto myself. Harder to keep what’s sacred sacred. After all, if there are no believers left, how long do you hold the temple doors?

No, that’s not a metaphor. ;)

There isn’t a word for what I’m looking for, but I would like to find someone who says what they believe, and means what they say. Who has the self-awareness to acknowledge the lies they tell themselves, the lies they tell others, and the courage to admit to both. Who knows that without the Holy Quartet, everything is nothing.

Just one person, so I don’t have to be the only one. 

You can't stand on the sidelines forever, kid.

Fuck Chick-fil-a.
Fuck Oreo.
Fuck Christian gay straight liberal conservative male female whatever.

Look me in the eye and tell me I'm not a person.

Tell me I don't deserve respect.
Tell me I don't deserve love.
Tell me I'm not good enough.
Tell me my voice doesn't matter.

Do it.
And then fuck off.

Because what I choose to do with my life has nothing to do with you.

---

I am so... disgusted with humanity right now. I'm sick of the proliferation of blithely stated hatred - the celebration of that hatred, like oppressing another group of people is someone's idea of a good time. I'm sick of my friends and family being treated like what they're asking for - what we're asking for - is completely unreasonable. I'm sick of feeling like I want to go find a fabulously queer hole to crawl into and never leave because they're the only ones who can really be trusted. I'm sick of religion being used as a shield that's meant to conceal a multitude of sins - oh yes, that's right, all you Bible-wielders, because there is nothing even remotely Christian about the things coming out of your mouths these days - when religion shouldn't even be dragged into it.

I'm sick of everyone forgetting that beneath all the names, slander, propaganda are real people who actually aren't all that different when it comes right down to it.

Mostly, though, I'm really sick of being shown exactly how many people I have respect, love and admiration for evidently have none of those things for me.

---

"I try my best to ascribe to the 'live and let live' philosophy when it comes to the increasingly prickly arena of religion, politics, lifestyles, etc., but there are moments while watching people show their support for various opinions by happily clicking 'like' where I wonder if, that in the span of that mouse click, the friends, children, nieces, nephews, and cousins personally affected in their daily lives by that opinion cross their minds, or that by supporting that opinion they are effectively saying those friends, children, nieces, nephews and cousins aren't entitled to certain rights - in fact, deserve to be treated as less than. It's not about abstract concepts or philosophies. It's about a real, living, breathing, thinking, feeling human being that you go on vacations with, celebrate with, grieve with, love and are loved by. Maybe more people should think about that rather than competing for who gets to be the most right." 


"Those same ignorant bigots can stand up and say anything they want about my life... but they do not have a right to make me change the way I live my life to suit them. If the worse thing someone can say about me is that I LOVE someone... well then... I'm doing alright. [...] It comes down to most people never having had to worry about hiding who they are from others. Never having to worry about whether or not they or their significant other will be allowed in a hospital room should something happen to them. Never having to worry about someone trying to deny you the right to see your children when they are hurt. Never having to worry about society suddenly deciding they have the right to rip your family apart. Never having to worry about simply being denied that you exist, that you even have the right to exist. It's a good thing that many people don't know what it's like to worry about being killed, beaten, or raped simply because you were seen holding hands with your loved one. But it's deplorable that ANYONE has to feel this way. These things do happen, they are real, and they are a disgusting part of humanity. It needs to be eradicated which can only happen if people are taught to respect diversity. "The gays" are not out hunting down bigots and vandalizing their homes, screaming hate speech at their children, trying to take their children away from them, killing them or raping them for being who they are. There's nothing about this that I can smile and do nothing about. If anything people need to speak up more. Get louder. Because this is not something I want my kids to grow up and have as part of their world."


"In the case of (god I'm so sick of that fucking company now), they are specifically attacking the LGTB community, and I see everyone wondering, do they have the right? They should have the right to hate us, and voice that opinion all they want to, but no one, I mean no one, should try and mandate who I sleep with, fuck, kiss, and fall in love with, I mean no one. And that's what that company was using their money for, to actually fund organisations that take away our rights. So in the case of LGBT community, are you telling me that us homos, lesbos, bisexuals, and transpeople don't have the right to stand up and protest this? Well, that's is just stupid. Any rights, civil liberties, and laws that give us rights should always be defended and fought for."


"Do you think that "we", as a society, will ever learn that disallowing all people the same rights, regardless of skin color, sexual orientation, gender, what-have-you, will eventually lead to an uprising by those being repressed/oppressed? I mean, is it cliche to say that this is the same thing women went through, that blacks went through? I'm not saying that it's not good to fight. It does make you stronger; it does make you more appreciative of the victories you earn (even though within a generation or two, all of the battles, frustrations, hurt, etc. are completely forgotten by those who enjoy the fruits of your pain and endurance). BUT... If you ask the same people who fight so hard to (for instance) "uphold the traditional definition of marriage" if they believe that black people should still be enslaved, they would be shocked that you could even suggest such a thing. Well, why not?"


"Stop being afraid of things you do not know personally. Stop being afraid of 'them', whomever 'they' are. They are you. Human with a need for love and support and family, whatever that means to each individual. I'm tired of humanity continuing to act like an amoeba scared to death of its own shadow because its 'different' or they don't understand it. Evolve. Think for yourself. Understand what base instincts are and think beyond them. It's really that simple."


"I mean, no one chooses to be gay, straight, bi, or trans. I can't imagine any one of us just woke up one day and said, "oh, I think my life would be easier if I just changed my gender," or "I think my world would be greatly enhanced if I were gay". No!! We already went through that argument back in the 80's and 90's. No, it's not a choice, and it makes your life more difficult, especially because rights are taken away. [...] Our forefathers wanted us to have the freedom to express ourselves individually, and then these fundamentalists are all like "well, you can, just don't do it so loudly", and then they turn around and they are ten times as loud as anyone else. Well, I'm sorry I'm going to scream back "fuck you" with a giant middle finger because I can and I will defend myself and my civil liberties and rights. Right now there are still transgenders being murdered and gays that are being denied any access to healthcare, [...] and believe me there many more things I could list. [...] There are even rural parts of the U.S. where you can kill someone for being gay and probably get away with it. Usually, as well, when you start saying things that people find hard to hear, they chalk it up to [your] anger and not to their own fear."


"You spend your whole life getting kicked in the face and taking it with a smile. Sometimes it's just one kick too many, and you get really fucking tired of turning the other cheek, especially when it doesn't matter how tolerant you are. You're always going to be the one who can't talk about certain things because it's "upsetting", or can't go to a family function with your partner, or have to bite your tongue when a relative cracks a joke about hunting season on liberals because you might hurt his feelings, or another relative cuts you out of her life completely just because you point out that religion and government are supposed to stay separate, or the police won't protect you because you're just the butt of their joke, or you don't get hired for a job you're more than qualified for because who you date makes the employer uncomfortable, or you end up pretending to be this watered-down, superficial copy of yourself because other people apparently find it too much of a strain to do what you do every damn day for a few hours every couple of months and be as tolerant of you as you are of them. So... Yeah. Sometimes, you stop and look at the real double-standard and think: why the hell do I bother? They don't."

Walking the Line

I am wary of activism, largely because the idea of forcing a particular way of thinking on an unwilling person conflicts with my personal morality, even if the particular way of thinking is one I support. Do unto others sticks pretty firmly in my mind in these situations. I want to be able to live my life with the freedom to be who and what I am, and follow my own beliefs and ambitions. I don't expect everyone to agree with me or like me; just let me get on with my life. And I reciprocate.

Well. I hold up my end of the bargain, anyway.

Most of my family is pretty conservative. Extremely conservative. God knows how my little pocket of nuclear liberalism came to be, but the rest are your typical Gods, God and Government. The big shock was how accepting they were when I dropped the bombshell on them ten years ago. I've brought partners to family gatherings, and not much is said about the various tattoos, piercings and hair colours I show up with (I can't speak for what's said afterwards, but while we're there it's not an issue, and a lot of times in families, that's what it all comes down to).

There is the cousin who no longer speaks to me because I pointed out that white, heterosexual Christians actually aren't oppressed and that, if you want to drag the United States' founding documents into the issue, nothing even vaguely religious should be integrated with any government institution (schools, court houses, etc.). And her father who did the same because I, as someone who would be unable to afford insurance if I weren't already uninsurable because of a "pre-existing condition" (nice double whammy there; go me!), made a rather angry post about "conservative assholes" (generalised) who don't have to wonder if they can afford proper healthcare not having a legitimate stance to opposed a medical bill that would benefit an awful lot of people currently lacking adequate healthcare.

But those are the exceptions.

Me as an individual - their grandson, nephew, cousin is accepted even if he dresses weird, doesn't go to church, spouts those crazy liberal ideas about equality and is just as likely to show up with a pretty boy on his arm as a pretty girl - is accepted.

Me as a concept - an anonymous face in the mass of alternative religions, alternative lifestyles, anti-gun, pro-socialised government programs, pro-choice, queer, etc. - is not.

It's a difficult thing to manage. On some level, I realise that in voicing their opinions on issues that I support - specifically the ones that affect me like gay rights - it doesn't occur to them in the slightest that what they're saying has a direct impact on me, both in the grand scheme of whether or not I'll actually ever have all the same rights they do and on the more personal level of having someone who claims to love me say that people like me are sub-human.

I don't agree with a lot of the things my extended family believes. Hell, I don't even always agree with my mother's beliefs. But I accept that they are just as entitled to those beliefs as I am to mine and don't persistently try to sway them to the Sashi Side.

Of course, the thing everyone is talking about these days is Chick-Fil-A. I've actually gotten into arguments with gay friends about it because the media is doing what the media always does and I don't agree with that. It goes back to my initial statement. Forcing someone to follow a way of thinking against their will never works out well. What bothers me the most about everyone flocking to stone the company, though, is the number of (gay) friends and acquaintances who up until this point said "I don't care," about the ethos behind the company but, lo and behold! The media starts publicising boycotts and protests and over night "I don't care," becomes "I'm never eating there again".

It just feels a little too artificial, with a hint of witch hunt about it.

I don't support the company - for more reasons than just their stance on homosexuality - but I don't feel very inclined to join the current fray, either. Dan Cathy can believe whatever he wants to believe - and people who agree with him, or just plain don't care, can continue to go there. I don't personally feel the need to jump  in and try to destroy their business. Dan Cathy is not every employee of that company, and, having known quite a few who've worked for Chick-Fil-A, I feel pretty confident in saying that the majority of their workforce (being the crewpeople actually working in the stores themselves) probably aren't in positions where they can quibble about who exactly is signing their paychecks.

Returning to the subject of my family, while perusing Facebook one of my cousins - one of the newer acquisitions that I get along fairly well with - posted one of those silly meme pictures in support of Dan Cathy, and, I'll be honest, it hurt. This is a woman who said I always have a place in their home, who went out of her way to get to know me once she knew I existed, who is still trying to persuade me to move back to San Antonio, who stood with me at my father's funeral supporting a man who thinks I don't deserve to be treated like every other American citizen. I sat there for awhile trying to wrap my head around the concept. I tried to mimic the thinking in my head, to empathise in a way, and I couldn't. A lot of my friends - gay, liberal, alternative, poor, marginalised left and right - don't have  a lot of nice things to say about Christians in general and even while I know the loudest and most powerful saying indefensible things, when my friends start in I'm always there saying no, no - they're not all bad. You have to respect them if you want respect, because I think of the people in my life who hold those values and know they aren't bad people. Just different. In the end, all I came up with was this:

I try my best to ascribe to the 'live and let live' philosophy when it comes to the increasingly prickly arena of religion, politics, lifestyles, etc., but there are moments while watching people show their support for various opinions by happily clicking 'like' where I wonder if, that in the span of that mouse click, the friends, children, nieces, nephews, and cousins personally affected in their daily lives by that opinion cross their minds, or that by supporting that opinion they are effectively saying those friends, children, nieces, nephews and cousins aren't entitled to certain rights - in fact, deserve to be treated as less than. It's not about abstract concepts or philosophies. It's about a real, living, breathing, thinking, feeling human being that you go on vacations with, celebrate with, grieve with, love and are loved by. Maybe more people should think about that rather than competing for who gets to be the most right. 


Of course, immediately after that, the same cousin posted another picture from an LBGT group. Trying to work out the thinking that led there completely short-circuited my brain. 

Out of Context

Someone asked me what I would do if I could do exactly what I wanted right now, erasing everything else, just the thing I want most.

My answer: No.

Because even erasing all other commitments and obstacles, it's not possible. And saying it out loud would just be... Painful.

I'm walking a fine line between what is real and what isn't, and I'm not sure I can entirely tell the difference. On one side is logic, rationale, and all those good, tangible things modern society says are all things we should pay attention to. That side is telling me very definite, good, tangible facts. Well, maybe not good, necessarily, but definite and tangible.

And then there is the rest. Unverifiable, illogical, irrational, potentially delusional but Jesus Christ is it strong and it's pulling me in the complete opposite direction.

I have generational Catholics on both sides of the family, but the one I was raised in had a slightly more open-minded bent to the typical Christian interpretation of how the world works. Strange occurrences, ghosts, visions, mysterious creatures, things moving and disappearing or appearing - that was all standard fare among my maternal extended family. I learned about a much more spiritual, raw, earthy side to the world with those people, and then learned to keep those things secret because people look at you funny.

When I was younger, it was easy to tell the difference between my intuition and things my brain just made up and figure out how to integrate them with the "real" world. Basically, I used to know what the universe was telling me.

These days I spend more time second-guessing myself than actually listening.

The fact is, though, either way, for the next five years I am on a very firm, set course with no diversions, no turn-offs, not variations. I'm living in a holding pattern waiting for my life to start again. It's not the first time I've been here, but that doesn't make it any more comfortable, or me any more patient about seeing what happens when I finally get to come in for a landing.

Sometimes I think if I could just say all these things and hear them out loud I would be able to figure it out again, but it is so damn hard to get the words out and there are so few people who truly understand the language of the universe. Particularly, in my case, people who can understand it and wouldn't have some personal bias one way or the other.

I have learned, though, over the years, that if the universe tells me to do something, I better damn well do it or it will drop me into the deep end without a life vest. So I guess the real question is whether or not it's calling the shots, or I'm just pretending it is.