I (heart) the Catholic Church

But the short document did not define terms like 'tendencies,' 'deep-seated,' or 'overcome,' though on Tuesday, Cardinal Grocholewski gave several specific instances of homosexuality that could be considered 'transitory' and therefore possibly acceptable

'For example, some curiosity during adolescence, or accidental circumstances in a state of drunkenness, or particular circumstances like someone who was in prison for many years,' he said in the Vatican Radio interview.

Wednesday's New York Times

So, you can't be gay and be a priest anymore. But if you're only gay when drunk, that's okay. And if you've been in prison and you had to decide who got the top bunk and who got the bottom bunk somehow, well, that's okay too. As long as you're still not gay, that's okay to be a priest. Especially no worries about your having been in prison for a long time.

I would kill...

...for a nanaimo bar right now.

And it's snowing.

And I have a date tonight.

*warm fuzzy feeling*

Doing my duty...

...as a god-fearing American homosexual. Listening to Madonna's new album. Only one track in--and I'd heard that one already--so nothing to say as of yet.

Pat Morita, AKA Mr Miyagi, 1932-2005

A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving

I realise that this isn't a revelation, but Peppermint Patty is such a dyke.

Yanksgiving Eve

(Warning: another novella-length post.)

When you go home, do you look around and wonder, 'Who are these people? Where did I even come from?' I mean, you look at them all, sitting there, and, they look familiar, but who the hell are they?

Holly Hunter in 'Home for the Holidays'

For the record, I will not be dealing with my family tomorrow. Except for phoning them. My dad's family, anyway. I haven't spoken to my mother since the beginning of the month when my roommate and I went to get our free living room set from her. When I phoned her at 7.50am to find out if she was still drinking decaf coffee so I could bring her some from work, she was drunk. She's been an alcoholic for as long as I've known her. We don't talk about it, of course. That would be too adult-like. She's been better recently--though I also no longer live at home so the improvement may very well be all in my head. Indeed, I found out that day that my step-father doesn't allow alcohol in the house anymore. So much for doing better. It could have been a lot worse than it ended up being but it was, needless to say, not great. I have enough issues with my mother, never mind her day drinking on the day that I'm coming to visit and haven't been home in almost 8 months.

She phoned me a week later to ask me about iPods, since my little brother wants one for Christmas. No hint of apology or even reference to the previous weekend. Just the iPods. She phoned me again a few days after that to ask me again about iPods and to make sure that I was okay since I hadn't returned her first call. (Just to make this even more insulting, I've asked for an iPod for Christmas every year since they've come out--never really expecting one since I realise it's a big ticket item, but still always being honest about wanting an iPod when I was asked what I really wanted for Christmas.) She phoned again the next day, finally clueing in to the fact that I wasn't returning her calls. She finally sort of not really apologised in that call. She said she was apologising, but did so in a bitchy 'I've not done anything wrong' tone and blamed 'whatever it was' that she had done on menopause. Mon oeil, as they would say in French. My ass, as we would say in English.

She left me the option of not phoning her back. And so I haven't. That was a week ago. I thought I would phone her back on Saturday but I didn't feel up to it. I thought I would phone her back yesterday but again didn't feel up to it. Now I'm thinking that I'll phone her tomorrow. Dramatic, yes. Probably it will get the point across, though. Problem is, I don't really know what to say. Probably I should just go with what I want to say. Tell her that I think she's really something else for phoning me about iPods twice before phoning to apologise and even then clearly not really meaning it. That instead of buying iPods, she should be apologising to my little brothers for putting them through the same crap that I had to grow up with. That she really ought to admit fully to herself and to the rest of us that she has a problem, that she is an alcoholic, and to do what she has to do to deal with that. I suspect that this will lead towards lots of yelling and probably her hanging up on me--I never hang up on her because she usually beats me to it.

So, I guess I will speak to both sides of my family tomorrow. I'll phone my father first so that I'm not over-emotional already. Other than that, it should be a fairly relaxing day. I'm going into work for a few hours to get up the Christmas decorations which should be fun. And much easier to do without having to worry about moving around customers and dealing with placing a milk order. I TRIED to do this on Monday, you see.... Then, I'm getting together with some friends to watch movies and order Indian take-out. Yum. Oh, and be thankful that we're not with our families of course.

In other news, I've gone from feeling somewhat ambiguous about the minister as of about a week ago to can't-stop-thinking-about-him. I'm really trying to calm my addled little brain down. The hairdresser has recessed further into the back of my mind. The minister is away this week which is probably a very good thing since it's giving me a chance to gain some distance from the heady events of the weekend.

I had a date last night that was pre-arranged before this weekend with a fellow that I met a couple of weekends ago. I had been perfectly happy for it to have been a one-night only thing but then he got his friend, an acquaintance of mine, to get my number. He was certainly a nice enough guy and easy on the eyes so I didn't really think it a bad thing to see him again, although I really didn't expect anything to come of it. More so now, given the events of the past weekend. So we just met up for a drink. Literally a drink. The conversation was painfully stilted. He made the mistake of asking why I was interested in the history of masculinity and gender more generally and so I blabbered on for probably close to ten minutes. Drawing connections to today, talking about class issues, linking the growth of the history of masculinity as a field to the firm establishment of women's history, etc, etc, etc. I basically got a blank stare back. My blabbering filled the silence at least.

Especially given last night, I think I'm well on my way to accepting the reality of the minister being interested in me. It still certainly has a too-good-to-be-true sheen to it. And I'm really trying to refrain from getting too excited about it. After seeing the hairdresser for the second time, I said that I had a really good feeling about him. And then he broke things off. It's a different situation, obviously, with the minister, though. I'm going to see him almost every day just like I have for the past almost four months. He's a smart boy. He acknowledged the dangerous ground he was stepping on to when he worried about the potential post-breakup awkwardness when he gets his coffee. He doesn't strike me as one to jump lightly into something that might endanger his caffeine supply. Still, I know I need just to pull back and to take the situation as is and to let it develop as it will.

Just don't mind me if I'm a little starry-eyed for a while.

This always boggles my mind...

...I always forget and then something comes up to remind me that the vast majority of police in Britain do not carry guns. And the Home Office has just rejected a suggestion to arm more police in the wake of the death of a constable who was shot by an armed robber. Three years ago, 80% of police said that they did not want to carry guns.

Thursday - Saturday

As I expected, Thursday was a very long but very fun day. I did a bunch of random stuff throughout the day to help with set-up for the event and then from about 3.30-6.30, I basically played personal assistant for my roommate--running errands for her, reminding her that we had to go home to change, and making sure that she was still breathing.

The event went off without a hitch. They didn't raise as much money as they had hoped (100k) but they did do quite well (75k).

And the minister did come to be my date for the evening. And that went quite well. The conversation was a little awkward I thought but I was also really quite tired and somewhat zombie-like after a long day. But, we had a really good time and hung out until almost midnight when the DJ finally stopped playing music. We stood outside in the cold talking--which was silly since it wasn't as if they had kicked us out of the space, just that the DJ had stopped playing. The conversation kept having more and longer awkward pauses until he finally said to me, 'I have a dilemma.' 'Oh?' I said. He said, 'If I kiss you, and it all ends horribly...' I finished his sentence, 'Then you'll have to go somewhere else to get your coffee...' I suggested that there was the theory that we're both adults and could manage to be civil to one another if that happened. There was a bit more witty repartee and then he finally kissed me. Sweetly. In the freezing cold. We talked and kissed a bit more and I finally suggested that we either go back inside or he walk me home since I was cold. So he drove me home (not very far, which was why I had suggested walking) and we were up until about 3 talking (for about 95% of that time--honest!).

Yesterday I worked and actually managed to get out at a reasonable time and then met up with the boy for a late dinner with entertainment provided by my drunken roommate and friends who popped in to say hello. After leaving the bar, we went back to his place and talked again until after 3.

I admitted to him on Thursday that he somewhat intimidates me due to his combination of brains and beauty and the interest of those brains and beauty in me. He countered by asking if I only managed to date ugly, stupid people usually. I said no but although I wouldn't say that any of my serious ex's were stupid, I could not have discussed Israeli politics and the location of the right to privacy in the US Constitution in the same night with them. Even one of those topics probably would have been pushing it. He suggested that there's really no reason for me to be intimidated since it's clear that I can hold my own with him intellectually and that, according to him, I'm just as beautiful.

I've definitely enjoyed spending time with him over the past couple of days. Still, the hairdresser is at the back of my mind. They're two rather different people needless to say. I think that one of the things that I find really attractive about the hairdresser is that he's not at all afraid of his existence as a sexual being. The time that I spent with him was very sexually charged in a very good way. At the same time, we had a lot to talk about even if it wasn't Israeli politics. The minister on the other hand, is attractive for reasons at the opposite end of the spectrum. His intelligence is really hot. Which isn't to say that he isn't physically hot--because he is--but his physical presence isn't as raw as the hairdresser's is, if that makes sense.

All the same, I'm not stupid enough to sit this out due to the fact that I'm still interested in the hairdresser although he's not ready for something. We only saw each other twice. And now he's called things off with no real indication that he's going to change his mind any time soon. Both present really interesting possibilities and it only makes sense to go with what there is to go with. Which sort of makes it sound as if I'm settling for the minister as a sort of consolation prize, which isn't at all the way I'm looking at it.

In any event, as a result of my lack of sleep over the past couple of nights, I'm a complete zombie right now. Almost too tired to sleep. I had the chance to fill in for the dishwasher at my usual restaurant tonight on short notice. It would have been some easy extra cash. But it's only 7.30--only half way through service--and I'm sure that I would have fallen asleep slumped against the Hobart (the dishwashing machine). I'll get a good night's sleep tonight and hopefully be ready to go tomorrow which theoretically is my Monday. Although my weekend was only one day this week. Alas. It could be worse. It could have been zero days if I had washed dishes tonight.

On an entirely random note, I think I might try to read Moby-Dick again. This would be my third attempt. Maybe I'll get through it this time. Maybe.

Wide awake.

It's 6.30 and I've been wide awake for about 45 minutes now. Just because. Ugh.

It's going to be a long day but probably a very fun one. I'm volunteering to help with a gala fundraiser for the local youth outdoor non-profit that my roommate works for. I'm guessing that I'll be helping with set-up for most of the day and then I'll be doing registration at the event tonight. It should be a lot of fun tonight. Plus, I get to dress up and we all know how much I enjoy dressing up! :-)

I had initially really hoped to bring the hairdresser as my date but that obviously isn't going to happen now. Besides which he had to work and wouldn't have been able to make it anyway. However, I was talking to this other guy, whom I've mentioned in passing before, and although he didn't absolutely commit to coming tonight, he very probably will come. I had come to the conclusion that he probably was interested in more than just a friendship although I still wasn't absolutely sure until last night when his decision to come to the event was less based on whether or not he could get away with wearing his tux than whether or not I'd be tied up with volunteer stuff all night or if we could actually hang out together.

We'll see how this goes. I've realised that thing about this fellow (he needs a moniker, doesn't he? Shall we stick with the occupational names, I guess? ...he's a minister. But for one of those good, liberal churches so it's okay--I think Congregationalist) ... Anyway, the thing about the minister I've come to realise--aside from the awkwardness of the fact that he's a regular customer--is that he's gorgeous AND horrendously intelligent and intellectual. To the point that he intimidates me. I've never really dated someone as intellectual as me and, as I suggested in the post that I linked to above, I don't know if I could. I don't think that it's so much a matter of needing to feel intellectual superior to whomever I'm dating so much as maybe a worry that I'd have to be intellectually on all the time. At the same time, I've become frustrated in the past when I'm spending lots of time with a guy and I feel as if I can't talk to him on the same level as I do with my other friends. I guess it's all a matter of balance.

I'm still pining for the hairdresser, though. We spoke a bit more on Tuesday night although nothing was resolved. He says he has major trust issues. That he never sees guys more than once. I pointed out that he saw me twice--the second time was entirely his idea (not that he had to twist my arm about it--and that he was still talking to me. I suggested that that must count for something. I told him that I'd like to think that I could earn his trust. He seems to have a lot of thinking to do. In the end, I sent him a link for the lyrics to the Joe Jackson song 'You can't get what you want (until you know what you want)' because it happened to come on my iTunes. And, as I said to him, it seemed appropriate and, god knows, it's been an appropriate song for me at oh so many points in my life. It seemed a good fit especially given the lines 'Sometimes you can't see that all you need is one thing. / If it's right, you could sleep at night, /But it can take some time, /But at least I'm here in line.'

Ack. It's almost seven now. No real point in going back to sleep. My roommate is due to be up any minute along with our house guest who is back in town visiting and also helping out with the event. I may as well go put the coffee on WITH MY COOL NEW COFFEE MAKER!

I (heart) Canada redux

André Boisclair, the newly elected leader of the Parti Québécois (he of the cocaine use that I mentioned below), is also openly gay.

Gah.

Boys are stupid. Throw rocks at them.

It's looking like the hairdresser whom I'm oh so interested in is running away because he's afraid to be in something that might become serious. Oh, plus, I'm leaving town at some point in the future.

WTF? Didn't I just do this a few months ago?

More needs to be discussed between the two of us before any definite decisions are taken. Granted, we've seen each other twice. But I'm very happy with what I saw. And I very much still want to see him. He's going to be a stupid boy about things it seems, though.

Remembrance Day / Veterans Day

I realise I'm a day late.

Last year about this time, I had a discussion with a friend of mine about why I wasn't wearing a poppy on my lapel for Remembrance Day. Those of you in the States might have no idea what I'm talking about. In Canada and England (and, I would assume, other places, though I can't assume for sure) it's quite common for people to buy little fabric poppies to wear on their lapels in honour of Remembrance Day (what we call Veterans Day here in the States). The basis of my argument for why I wasn't wearing one was that, in a way, I felt I was supporting war itself. I realise now, reflecting back on it, that this was a pretty lame argument and that veterans really ought to be honoured and their sacrifices remembered, even if I generally have a difficult time supporting war myself.

Growing up outside of Boston, Veterans Day never meant anything to me. I think we had a day off from school. And there were always sales, of course. Any excuse for a sale. But it was just a blip on the radar screen. We always had some kind of vaguely patriotic ceremony / assembly at school for Memorial Day, but even that didn't have any kind of connection to anything for me. Having gotten used to seeing poppies sprouting on lapels at this time of it seems really strange to see none.

I just asked my roommate if Veterans Day meant anything to her and she said that she always thought of her dad, who is a Vietnam Vet. Other than that, though, she said that she feels no real connection and doesn't know why it is when it is.

Like so many things, it strikes me as one more of those things that the collective American memory has just let go into the ashes of of the past. Sure, there are speeches and celebrations to mark the day. But that doesn't resonate with the average person. My roommate was complaining yesterday about not getting mail. That's what Veterans Day is for the average person: one of those days that we don't get mail delivered. Oh, and government offices are closed. The public library was also closed yesterday. And, like I said, I seem to remember getting the day off from school when I was growing up.

But sacrifice? Courage? Valour? Honour? What are those?

Oh, and those jack-asses in Congress are working on cutting the Veterans Administration budget as well as not allowing veterans groups to address the joint House-Senate Veterans Affairs committee to voice their opinions on the budget this coming spring.



In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Bad, bad blogger

I know, I know. I've still not gotten back up to speed with this whole blogging thing. My life has been...I dunno. No more crazy than usual. But I've been going through a bit of a, What am I doing here? thing. Mostly along the lines of, Do I really want to go to grad school? I'm missing the structure of academic life, though. I miss having deadlines for things and the flexibility that a schedule of classes gave--even if I often felt that I didn't have nearly enough time to get everything done the way that I wanted to.

I think part of it is just the change of seasons.

In other news, I had two girls come into work last night and order cappuccinos. When I asked them how many shots of espresso they wanted, they told me that they didn't want any espresso. They clearly knew not what they were ordering. I had to stand there for five minutes to explain the concept of a cappuccino to them, eventually just saying, Do you want caffeine in it or not? When they said yes, I told them that they had to have the espresso then.

I'm getting a cold. Blech.

Oh, and there's a new boy (when is there not a new one?). Only seen him a couple of times, but things seem to be going well. I'm trying not to be too excited about it. This is the hair dresser I mentioned a couple of posts ago, for those of you keeping score at home.

I promise I really will try to be better about posting!

Yet another reason I (heart) Canada

The frontrunner for the Parti Québécois leadership has admitted to using--although never buying--cocaine in his past, as recently as during his tenure as a PQ cabinet minister.

The news did not put a dent in his popularity, and he is still the frontrunner in the leadership race for the PQ.

We all make mistakes. We learn from them. We move on.

I can't even imagine a US politician admitting that he had done cocaine in the past, even when holding a position in the government, and then being able to move on with his career.

This country needs to grow up a bit.

When I grow up...

...I think I want to be a Senator. I'm only half-joking.

The more I think about it, the more I think I should go into politics.

A question and a thought

Hypothetical situation. They always are. You have a friend who is going through a divorce--essentially. She's still living at home but has moved into the second bedroom. Her (ex-) wife has correctly deduced that there must be someone else to have acted as the catalyst to the breakup, although it had been coming for a while. However, she doesn't know for sure. You all have mutual friends in town who want to get together a big ol' dinner party with lots of good food and wine. How do you politely tell your friend that you're just not comfortable yet with cooking dinner with the new girl? You have nothing against the new girl, mind you, you've just not reached the comfort level of spending an evening in the company of friends with her (never mind the requisite pre-meal menu planning and shopping if you two are to cook together) while the (ex-) wife is clueless as to the situation.

As for my thought, it's a relatively new one that is still in its formative stages in my mind. But I wanted to throw it out there all the same even in its half-formed version.

It is this: I don't think I could date someone as intellectual as I am. He needs to be intelligent for sure. If he's as intelligent as me, I think that's best (that sounds somewhat conceited, I realise, but I don't like to feel that I'm talking to a rock). But, at the same time, I don't think I could date another historian, the more I think about it. Or another academic. I was discussing this with my roommate last night and she asked if maybe it was because I feel the need always to have the upper hand and always to have the right answer. I don't really think that's it. I think it's more that I need someone to balance me out, to keep me from getting to absorbed by my books.

This is probably why I found the hair dresser that I had a date with on Friday oh-so-interesting. He was clearly my intelligence equal, but knows nothing about British history. We had great and stimulating conversation (yes, stimulating conversation. You're all sick and always have your minds in the gutter! But, for the record, he's stimulating in other ways too. ;-) ).

At the same time, there's this other fellow whom I've been talking to a lot recently. I'm still trying to figure out if this is just a developing friendship...or something more. He's incredibly brilliant and very intellectual. We've talked about things from politics to queer theory to post-colonialism. All great conversation. Yet the more I get to know him, it seems, the less attractive he becomes. He's still very attractive, to be sure, and if he were to ask me out on a date, I don't know that I would necessarily turn him down. But...I dunno.

Happy All Saints' Day, if you're into that sort of thing. And Happy post-Hallowe'en. I hope no one is in a sugar coma.

It's November. Where the hell did the year go?!