Where are you going?
I’m going my own eccentric ways!
Groundwork
For six years, I met every week with a group at my church. My church wasn’t fancy. We had bought an old office building and it looked like it. The group met in a storage room full of old carpet and filing cabinets and playground equipment.
It was dusty and ugly and the folding chairs were hard metal. We took up a collection and eventually bought some tables and better chairs, but we still met in a cramped, ugly room.
We came back week after week, fed by our teacher, Mary Hill, who taught that class for over 20 years, week in and week out. We met and read and shared and learned, tiny bit by tiny bit. We confessed our weaknesses to each other. We laughed at stories of out of control egos, of times we got on our spiritual high horses and were suddenly brought low.
People got sick and died. Babies were born. People fell in love and got married, fell out of love and got divorced.
But week after week, we showed up.
When I moved, I found a new church and a new class, much the same. The chairs were a little more comfortable, but the progress was still as slow, chipping away at attitudes I had build up over years.
Most of the time it seemed like no progress was being made, but I knew I needed the spiritual food that just meeting with other earnest seekers provided.
Tonight I had to have a difficult conversation with a friend. We both had enough hurt to build a wall, but we didn’t build a wall. Both of us have been doing our work, taking these classes where it seems like nothing happens, praying, changing in tiny ways.
So there we were. We let ourselves say the truth, be open, vulnerable, share our fears, our resentments, look each other in the eyes, hug, talk, change.
It is at moments like these that all the hours spent in cluttered rooms with texts that seem impenetrable prove their worth. All that study, all that willingness, comes to fruition in one moment of truth and vulnerability, a moment when love wins out over fear. Then it is all worth it, every uncomfortable moment, because real love, the kind of love where you can feel God step into the space between you, is worth any price.
- Mom thinks her Kindle Fire is going to quit working every single day, because Amazon keeps sending her the message that her Amazon Prime 1-Month Free Trial account has expired.
- The dog fell in her own poop
- I forgot the ramp to put her in the car, so I had to lift a poop-covered dog into the car
- Because she hates to be lifted, she kicked me in the bladder and I peed my pants
- So I was covered in poop AND pee from 2 different sources, all within 3 minutes
- Is that enough? Or should I tell you about the menopause? No, let’s save that one.
Because it is the Right Thing to Do
Photo by Steve Heron. Used under a Creative Commons license.
We had hired two new workers in my department, a young woman and a man. During their second week on the job, we all went out to lunch together and took one car.
Rachel, the young woman, was talking about something, and suddenly I heard her say:
“But they’re gay, so they won’t be parents.”
I drew in my breath. James, the new guy, who was driving, seemed pretty obviously gay to me. For instance, he had talked about his “roommate” of nine years, someone he had moved with to four different states.
For a second, I was pissed at her for speaking in what I thought was a ignorant, prejudiced way. Then I realized that she might not have an idea he was gay, or she might not realize she was making stupid assumptions.
I thought “I should say something.” I try to speak out in the face of prejudice, but I get tired of always having to be The One. On the other hand, I figure being the one who speaks up is easier than being the one who is the target of other people’s prejudice and ignorance. I waited a second to see what James would say. He looked straight ahead, driving. Nothing.
I also felt like I had to let James know I was on his side, that his new workplace was a safe place to be who he was.
So I said evenly, “Plenty of gay people have kids. Plenty of gay people are married to people of the opposite sex at some point. Other people adopt. Or…”
“I know, I know,” she said, laughing at my mini-lecture.
What I didn’t know that day was that not only was James a gay man, but Rachel was a lesbian. She was testing the waters to see how LBGT-friendly the rest of us were and I had just passed her test.
We became good friends, and I was eventually the first person she came out to at work.
The ironic part was that James didn’t come out to any of us until three years later.
It taught me a lesson. When you do the right thing for one person, it is often the right thing for others, too. You just never know who that might be.
*****
This post was inspired by the voters of North Carolina enshrining prejudice in their constitution with the passage of Amendment One, something that sickens me. If I had my druthers, the state would get out of the marriage business entirely and let people set up contracts to govern how they want to live their lives together. I think we could get the Bar Association to lobby for this idea!
Women kick ass. Me included.
So that steaming pile of crap named Rush Limbaugh thinks feminism was created to give unattractive women access to mainstream society.
Who knows if he believes it or not? He’s not in the truth business – he’s in the ratings business. He stopped being relevant a long time ago.
Feminism is pretty simple. I’m surprised that so many people are confused. Feminism is predicated on the idea that women should have equality, with the full rights and responsibilities of other adult humans (also known as men). Easy, right? Why do people make it so hard?
But here are the facts, cats and kittens – I have said it before, and I will say it again: feminism is a proven good. It is proven because wherever women have greater equality, life is better for everyone. People are healthier, wealthier, live longer and have better quality of life. The more equality = better life. Not just for women. For men and children and intersex people, too. Everyone.
It’s a direct correlation with very few exceptions (you can try to name some. Get busy). If you want a country to have higher rates of literacy, increase women’s equality. If you want them to be more productive, increase women’s equality. If you want to end disease, increase women’s equality.
It would seem like any dunderhead could figure that holding down half the population would hold the society down in general, but apparently idiots like Rush and his followers can’t parse that. Maybe they’d be happier in a country with less equality. Do you think we can get them to head for Afghanistan?
Aviary Sucks, Picmonkey Saves the Day
I store all my photos on Flickr. Until a few weeks ago, they had a nifty little built-in photo editing program called Picnik. For some insane reason, the wizards at Yahoo decided to kill off Picnik and to replace it with this useless piece of crap, Aviary. Seriously, don’t even try it. It will just make you mad.
You can’t straighten photos (which was my primary use for Picnik) – you can only rotate by 90 degrees.
You also can’t zoom in to see what you are editing. So if you need to remove a blemish on someone’s face, well, good luck with that.
The good news is that the Picknik folks have a new, free, service called Picmonkey. It is much like Picnik, only even more charming and cute. The only problem is that you have to edit photos first and then upload to Flickr, which I constantly forget to do.
You can do all kinds of magic and tragic things to your photos. Slap on a couple filters, and voila. The whole world is dipped in an unearthly vibrance. I don’t know if I like it or hate the end product below, but I’m having fun.
Want to be my housemate?
This is my favorite building in Ventura, 40 S. Ash Street. It is occupied by some architect or designer or something, but I’m sure they’ll move out if we ask nicely.
It is right downtown, but on a quiet side street.
The front door
It has a patio with a charming little wood gate. Drinks on the patio? Yes, I believe I will.
I covet this tiled fountain. This is what really sold me. That’s it. I’m calling the occupants. Who’s with me?
As you can tell, I’m having a ball walking around town with my camera. I didn’t realize I liked photographic buildings so much. Maybe it’s because they don’t squirm around like people do.
Shooting animals
Loving being able to take photos. That is all.
The neighbor cat. He posed on top of this pole for about 5 minutes.
The pelicans were resting on the boat ramp
Then I got too close
The one guy didn’t feel well, I think. He just stayed
Alone! Oh no!
I worked at home yesterday. Usually it doesn’t bother me (what am I talking about? I LOVE it!) but I didn’t see anyone all day and didn’t have any calls, so I didn’t even speak to another human.
After walking the dog and walking myself (Goldie is up for shorter walks now, but anything over a mile is too much for her), I took myself out to a stylish cafe for a glass of wine, just to be where people are.
It was lovely, other than the bartender calling me “my dear” at the end of every single sentence. Once or twice is fine. I get it. You’re being friendly and charming. Every sentence? Starts to sound like a recording.
But the place was pretty and the Malbec was fine and the book I’m reading “The Creative Destruction of Medicine” blew my mind every few pages, so frequently I’d just have to sit there and let the neurons settle back into place.
The other day, Romenesko posted a screenshot from CNN with helpful tips for dining alone:
It made me laugh. Don’t worry, CNN! Some of us are Big, Brave People who can handle shoving food in our pie-holes even if we’re all by ourselves!
There was one time I did feel a little awkward dining by myself. I ordered a wine tasting flight with dinner and didn’t realize they would bring all 4 glasses at once. So, yeah – solo woman, dinner, four glasses of wine. It had “drunken spinster” written all over it.
****
PS I hate those straight-across bangs. Hideous. Unless you’re as cute as Zooey Deschanel, you shouldn’t attempt it.
Insert Title Here
I haven’t been posting, not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I don’t have anything GOOD to say. I’ve been mired in teeth-gnashing angst, the kind that sneaks up on me for no good reason every once in a while.
Boiled down, it says “You suck. Always have. Always will.”
Please don’t say kind things to try and make me feel better. I know that my brain is a liar, and that This Too Shall Pass. It just sucks while it is sucking.
Onward.
I’m taking a relationship class at church. We had to say why we were there. I said “Because I’m really bad at relationships.” No one else said that. Oops.
I finally, after literally years of putting it off, bought a new camera. No more phone photos for me (well, maybe a few). I got a Canon EOS Rebel T3, a basic model, but it is already so much more amazing than anything else I have ever laid hands on. I don’t know what all the buttons are just yet. But I feel like a puzzle piece snapped into place AND like I can breathe again.
I also feel like I love mixed metaphors.
Bonus! Many new dog photos.
Also? I got to see Susan Orlean at the LA Times Book Festival. I asked during the Q&A how twitter had affected her writing. She said that she feels like any kind of writing is good and that it helps you think concisely. Also, she loves the support and accountability – when she goes on twitter and says she’s going to write 1000 words, she feels like she had better do it.
She looked me right in the eyes and was lovely and funny and had a great skirt on, too. My friend Jim was quite smitten. Here she is:
That’s all for now. Thank God for photos. As you were.
Suebob's Red Stapler 