"LET MY PEOPLE GO!"

So last night was my first Exodus meeting.

It was as awkward as you would think, but keep in mind it still wasn't nearly as awkward as my 20th-reunion free-event.

Some bizarre lining-up of the planets produced all of us being there for the first time, so not only did we have to contend with a new experience, we all had to nervously sniff around each other--sorry, sniffing around wouldn't have been appropriate, sorry. But I'm going to go through with it. This is an important part of my finally growing up into the man God wants me to be, and I will go through with it no matter how much the collective social anxiety of the group tends to climb. Word.

I don't really remember Friday

08 November 2009

Friday is irrelevant, anyway.

First thing Saturday morning, I took off for the Birmingham '09 Love Won Out Conference. Awesome it was. I don't know how anyone could have not been awesomated by it, even the protesters, of whom I knew quite a few.

See, in case you don't know, Love Won Out is a Protestant thingie for those overcoming same-sex attraction. Speakers, information booths, a bookstore, Q&A, such. And did I mention that it was awesomulous, because if I forgot, here it is. Sure, we had nib-nob protesters with signs that said "Gay by God, Not by Choice," and the place was almost lousy with cops (an unfortunate word choice): but it was a loving, understanding, but nevertheless determined event. We heard real-live people telling about their real lives, heard talks on a wide range of subjects, and we had a good mix of people in attendance, although I think some of the younger participants--the Emo-kids in particular, and the ones with snakebite piercings, but I could be misinterpreting--were there against their 'druthers. I spent way too much money on books, and bought two necklaces I seriously didn't need, but supported in a very small way the AIDS-widows of Africa. But get this Possums: I was blessed by Anne Heche's mother. Okay it was a mass-blessing done by a Protestant laywoman, but who cares? Pay it no mind!

I've hooked up with the local Exodus-almost group and had my interview this morning. The group is applying to be affiliated with Exodus, International and is Protestant. It will be yet another weekly activity I don't have time for.

I am still so tired, I am exhausted, but the weekend wasn't over! I went to Mass today [this was originally written on Sunday, today is Tuesday] with my little friend, unloaded my entire Magic: the Gathering card library on him, and after church went with him to his grandmother's house--you remember, the one with the 300 chickens. He and his brother or some combination of personages thought it would be swell to go fishing, so we saddled-up the paddle boat and the canoe and had at it. I don't have much experience with a fishing pole, particularly a nice rod-and-reel--what's the point if you don't really like to eat fish--so I suppose it was convincing that when I finally had enough of not being the center of attention, I asked to give fishing a try and sent the lure up into a tree. Don't ask.

So we got to get out of the water...

I didn't mention that his aunt, who is a good country cook, only understands feeding her friends and relations as an activity that must be overdone, so even though I was full as a tick from lunch, even after paddling the boat up and down a largish lake at a racing speed (apparently, twin boys need to be competitive in everything, which is something I wouldn't know or understand) and already had had a dessert, I was subjected to a giganticular pile of ice cream on top of three brownies while we watched Opie wear the same shirt three episodes in a row: somewhere in the sequence were middle-class White 'tweeners dancing self-consciously to unconvincing music. I don't think I'll eat again this week. What is it, mid-November? Could I get by until Thanksgiving?

Such a lovely weekend, which began entirely too early and also ended much too early. I had bitten my lip somewhen Saturday, and I bruised the wound when I kissed my little friend goodbye, on the shoulder, so I'm still feeling it. >^.^<

I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to be so pleased with that: let me adopt a flat, robotic affect instead. [:] Much-more manly.

Oh, fcock it. >^.^<

Oh, I didn't mention our kitchen at home nearly going up in flames Saturday night, whoops...

More to come...

Okay, listen, the Birmingham '09 Love Won Out Conference, and one of the last ones that will be thrown by Focus on the Family, was a throw-down. It rockulated. I promise that I will post long and hard about this entire weekend, which very-generally was over-the-top fabulous. I can't exaggerate the significance of this past weekend's events. I had typed out a summation to retype onto the blog, but ninny-me left the hard copy at home. I am just now realizing that I could have put it on my new flashdrive--well, live and learn.

I've recently had the pleasure of doing both.

I am very disappointed in the flat and colorless blob that is the world

Even though I no-longer recognize Hallowe'en as a real holiday, it struck me today that I really-rilly need a general-purpose superhero costume--hey, heroes can't very well go naked (even in this sin-sick country), and something affect-melting and/or aura-scrambling makes grocery shopping more pleasant. Yes, I live in a very-small city, so? I have a tanktop I made over a decade ago from brass fishing-line swivels, but--and I amaze myself by typing this--I want something even more excruciatingly-fabulous. How sad is that, Possums?

So as it turns out, the Internet still is the go-to place for gay porn, but an amorphous nothingness when it comes to learning how to construct one's own superhero costume. I mean, sure one can find instructions for a really-unflattering cardboard cuirass or a robot suit or the ever-dependable gangter suit (yawn), but I want something that inspires confidence in a random aggregate sampling of Americans.

I did see several interpretations of Dog: the Bounty Hunter which gave me the shivers. Granted, Dog is a real-live superhero (even though I'm the one with the blog), but brr.

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I may have alluded to the random act of violence that is breaking into a library before (that's all anyone else seems to want to talk about around here at any rate), but this bears repeating: put down the drugs and give Jesus a hug. Also, when faced with a door that has been blocked off with plywood and police tape--generally, it means that the door is not to be used. So stop trying: there's a perfectly-good and functioning door right next to it. Not that that means anything either: we had a patron try the staff door once (before that was the one to use by default)--I will insert here that there were several signs indicating that it wasn't actually the door to use, and it was locked. She informed us, when she managed to fight her way in the real door that had the "open" sign on it, that our door didn't work. I was and still am not a little bit stunned. Hukt on fonix, kid, hukt on fonix.

Do I know you?

Ah, Facebook, that great networking website that reminds me daily that I really don't know that many people--I'm basically just an attention whore. Sad, but true. AND GET THIS: most of my FB friends are old fellow inmates of the local public school system, the vast majority of whom I had not one class or, for that matter, conversation with. Not one, Possums. AND THEN, TO TOP MYSELF: I friendsearched my own name one day, which seemed healthier than googling my ex for the againth-time, and "made friends" with men and women who may be my relatives but dang if I know.

But then again, who really minds? Besides, free flair almost every day! And I can find out which Muppet I am!

I've been trying to reapproach posting some fiction again--not the dreaded Teen Angst (of which I'm happily fresh-out), but some more of the Island Life stories and the Serenity Prayer bits. I just need about eleventy-four straight hours on the computer, which never happens anymore. It's so sad. And I'm considering scrapping the aXlavalXa storyline and reabsorbing the characters into the Gath-Shemen Island arc--will this anger and confuse you terribly? It probably will, and I'm already sorry.

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I'm not at all suggesting that vandals be more thorough in their mayhem, but a few days ago, the library--yes, my library--was burgled. As if! And the really inscrutable thing is that the only object that seems to be absconded with was the cash register, which was carefully extricated from the web of power cords under the counter. Oh, and was entirely empty and open. What a profoundly-weird world. In case you don't know, I think it is general policy that library registers--and for that matter, every register in AMERICA--are emptied at night. Yeah.

Speed-reading creatures of the night

My doctor and I did a little experiment with my medication, and while I was in bed for almost three days this week (yes, it was that bad of an idea), I managed to wolf down almost the entire Southern Vampire series. Am I the only one who wonders if vampires are taking over American culture? Is that bad? No idea. I just ask that because working in a library, and realizing that I know very little about literature written after WWII (and so wanting to catch up with the world so to speak), I've needed to do some rack-shopping--and every third book seems to be significantly toothsome. Actually, my calculations yielded a slightly-less frequency than that, having a ratio of roughly 1:3.6738. But "every third" is even more absurd, and four out of the five voices in my head said "GO FOR IT!" And so it goes...

I must admit, now that I put the series in my "favorite books" list, if you haven't read them yet and you're something of a stick in the mud, you may want to stay with __Twilight__, assuming the inside of Stephenie Myers' head is easier for you to live in.

(Okay, a tangent: as usual, I'm at the library on one of the public terminals, and I just want to say that computerizing everything from paying bills to dating was not that good of an idea, becuase people have major attitudes about everyone else's supposed retardatedulousness. For instance, the guy that likes to come in and look at half-naked Russian models is hufflefuffing about the woman who is sitting next to me, who admittedly is loud and doesn't really know what's she's doing--but of course, she's doing important business that must be completed today, and these terminals are timed. What fun.)

So basically, I spent the remaining time I had left to follow the tangent, and the really profound social commentary I was going to hit you over the head with may have to wait until later. Bother. Oh, I'm going on another retreat this weekend, so we'll visit when we can: y'all come!

Due to the economy, a picture is now worth 467.58 words

I was about to be very happy to show you some more pictures, but this may take longer than I had previously believed possible. I think this computer, which is one of the public-access terminals at work, really-no-likee my thumb drive.

So now I can sob hysterically about my horrible interview yesterday, yeehaw. I was up for another promotion, but there's no danger of me getting it now. I don't know. Lots of vague rambly answers to questions I hadn't prepared for--if I did manage to answer the question at all. Very odd. Daddy's monster blood is going to have to do more than just circulate if I have any chance at getting it.

Well, after bouncing around four computers to get the pictures to come up, it's now time to clock in.

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Okay, three days later, I'm back. Let's try this again: oops, David forgot to click on the agreebox about the Terms of Use. Dreadfully sorry. To make it worse, I didn't load them in a logical order, but here goes:

This is the opening shot for that weekend I had at the convent last month, and it satisfies my compulsion to take pictures of the sky. The weather was not particularly cooperative, but hey, we were inside for most of it.

This was going to be my CatholicMatch profile image--you know, the second time around. I think you can imagine why I didn't use it, but feel free to tell me I'm wrong. I'm waiting.

Got all the way back to that pilgrimage I took to Our Lady of the Snows National Shrine in Illinois two years ago. Or was it at the convent last month? It's all under the same sky anyway.

This definitely was taken from the Illinois pilgrimage, and has been posted on this blog before--the difference now is that I figured out how to rotate it properly (knowledge I sorely lacked until, oh, this Thursday, many Thursdays later).

Now THIS is the flip-out Picture of the Day. Yes, it's a Pieta, sideways and in reverse: Jesus is holding Joseph as he's dying. Taken at St. Josephs in St Louis...wherever that arch-thing is...it's been so long, I forgot where I took this, and I'm now anticipating hate mail because I'm getting it all mixed up, plus almost placed the arch in Kansas City. Eek. Back to the photo, it was one of the last things we saw in the church, and I had to remind myself I had a camera, I was so stunned. In real life, it's so...very. The convent retreat, being essentially a 12-Step program packed into a weekend, I suppose was supposed to be confidential. I normally don't recognize such conditions as applying to me, but I took this shot of feet (mine on the bottom in black) belonging to my new Courage friends from Atlanta. "How beautiful are the feet of them."

Here, Possums, is the Rosary I made from my grandmother's necklace. Yes, it's out of focus. Gotta clock in--bye-bye!