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August 30th, 2010
I haven't posted much to this emo blog lately, because I've been trying so hard to see the good side, count my blessings... but my workplace becomes more and more abusive. The mass skullf# that was Inventory slid almost seamlessly into the mass skull# that is Remodel, and then it'll be time for our endless Xmas shopping season, hard as it is to believe as I sweat like a pig in the equatorial heat that somehow does so little to prove Global Warming, the way a cold day in f#ing January so easily disproves it in the common mind. I feel like work (and/or the unseen bugs in my bed; and/or the heat and/or unknown factors) are sucking the vitality from me, leaving little gumption with which to deal with the rest of my life, which consequently, is falling apart at the edges. I've been sleeping on a sleeping bag on the floor because my mattress makes me itch... except now, even the floor is making me itch, so soon I'll need a Plan C. My apartment is a mess. I still haven't put away most of the precious junk I grabbed from camp several months back. My car needs work done to pass inspection, my dental crown on my back leftmost tooth is falling apart, piece by piece. I'm preparing my games for Con, the final Con of its type, and already Frifts is so complicated I doubt any of my regular players will play it... and I might not even get those days off from work, at this rate. My church will be bankrupt in two years unless they double their attendance. The girl I love says we should just be friends. ...and I say, sure, baby, I'm good at that. I'm the ultimate Friend Man. What else can I say?
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Anger: Sins of Omission
November 23rd, 2009
Current Mood:screaming at luggage
Brother P didn't want the unabridged version of Why I Left the Catholic Church, so I didn't bother to explain it further, but... dangit, it isn't just that Bishop M said something I disagreed with. It's that, when the Church needs money for feeding poor people, comforting cancer victims, helping beaten wives and unwed mothers, and (wedged in on the same bill) buying the nuns new rulers to hit kids with...in that case, they pass the hat. An ornate, large hat, but still a pledge drive. Kidding aside, I don't have a problem with funding Catholic schools, so I wrote them a check back in May, for a goodly amount, lump sum, up front, no waiting months to get it in small chunks. ... but when a Hot Button Political Issue rolls into town, suddenly Bishop M has Big National Funders and Money is No Object. (Was this whole Marriage Equality law just a scam by the Legislature to get people to pour money into the state from richer regions and deeper pockets?)
I'm supposed to be packing. Brother P just called to tell me what to pack. It includes shaving cream. First time in years I'll be somewhere where I need to shave, but can't just use...well, some of Dad's shaving cream. Why doesn't P have shaving cream? (I don't want him to feel bad, so I don't ask.) I just want to hit myself in the face with a rock. I read somewhere that the time we spend is pieces of our lives. We fritter it all away on worthless nonsense because we can't tell what's important, what we're going to need later on. I don't know what to put in Dad's casket. I don't even remember what I put in Mom's. Cram everything into a suitcase and run, and hope that it turns out in the end.
shadowlight: (lighthouse)
I went to two meetings today. (when did I become a person who goes to meetings?) My city, by virtue of being a state capitol, has Occupiers (apparently only about 20, but still enough for the effect, and they know what they're doing). The local university held a public forum to educate the public, in an intentionally-balanced if not entirely actually-balanced way, about the Occupy movement. Aside from people from the Occupiers (mostly in their 20s and dressed like college students), they had a Democrat state senator, a Republican state senator, and a state house representative who claimed he just happened to be in the building to sell back a textbook. (the bookstore offered him 10% of what he paid for the mathematics textbook, but, see, he'd already taken college-level math and knew he was being ripped off.) There was to be a Tea Party representative, but he chose to speak as a private citizen with everyone else instead, rather than claim more authority to speak on behalf of his party than he actually had. (From this, I learned that the Tea Party really is a leaderless organization, too... some parts are co-opted Baggers for Palin but others have different agendas or goals or values that might not match each other. there are many varieties of tea. so it's possible tea and pie can coexist instead of clashing. I imagine the poster for such a summit depicting art-school graphics of a blue table in front of red wall, with a white teacup and saucer emitting waving stripes of white steam against the red, next to a red and off-white apple pie, complete except for a tiny teensy missing sliver. Captioned: Occupy / Tea Joint Combined Assembly (dates here) Everyone knows what's wrong. Let's talk about what we're going to Do about it.)
Anyway, I was impressed with the democratic politicians' brief statements, but I felt the republican was stuck between his instinct to please those in the room and his training to dismiss the Occupiers as silly, ineffective, and message-less. He was right about how the partisans no longer really talk to each other. I hope he noticed that the Occupiers are trying to change that.
The second half of the meeting was organized in Occupier General Assembly format, which was educationally cool. It's a sort of parliamentary procedure re-created by bloggers. To start a new topic, you have to be put "on the stack", which is first-come, first-served, get in line and hope there's time to get to you after everyone ahead of you has had a chance. (As with traditional Rules of Order, I suspect this is intended to encourage brevity and chill such passions as tend to derail meetings). However, other people can respond to the current speaker with hand signals. Both hands held aloft, fingers spread and wiggling, means "I agree" (like a Like button, but not as noisy and time-consuming as clapping), whereas pointing like a pistol with your fingers means "I have a direct response to what that person is saying" (like an internet comment, with multiple pointers to a given speaker stacked chronologically among themselves) There are two moderators. One is doing the typical duties that would typically be aided by a gavel, a stopwatch, a vaudeville shepherd's crook, or a conductor's baton. The other is keeping track of who is on which stack and who wishes to be added to a stack. Just like on the internet, there were some people more considerate than others, or more eloquent than others, and so on. The man at the very top of the stack had an elaborate speech involving the national debt and allegedly free college for everyone, complete with a handout for the republican politician but not enough copies for everyone else, and had to be told twice to wrap it up so others could talk. But he was told to wrap it up. twice. and they would've said it three times or fifty, I think. They aren't about filibusters or letting any one person do all the talking.
I was especially impressed when one of the Occupy Augusta members said that, since they're on the lawn by the State House anyway, they've been talking over the issues that the legislators will be voting on soon, getting consensus, then attending the hearings to speak about it... and since they don't charge admission or rent, citizens from all over the state are welcome to come join them for long enough to attend hearings on issues that concern them, instead of worrying about hotels and food and so on. I was floored by the simple brilliance of this. They're using what's still (sort of) working in our democracy, and amplifying it.
It's clear they value the process of reaching consensus more than specific demands to be met. As another Occupier (Demi Colby, i think) said earlier, "we're not deconstructing government... we're REconstructing it." and they're encouraging civil discussion (much better than civil war) and civic engagement. As an Occupier named Josiah said, "If you have time to post to Facebook, you have time to educate yourself." I made sure to get his name because I intend to quote him on Facebook.

(interlude: after meeting #1, I went to workplace to get my paycheck. It came to exactly $666.16 but I'm cashing it anyway. The waxed floors were _all_ greasy and slick. Apparently the night crew did something wrong when they cleaned the floor. Wonder if it has anything to do with the manager that wanted to use the night crew's machines to get a fabric softener spill off the floor? probably not, since there were slick spots yesterday before that, but my cynical vengeful nature finds it tempting. Glad I wasn't working today. I got a haircut. Trimmed and shaved and having regained my pre-vegan weight, without my glasses, I resemble my brother. not surprising but strange anyway. Thus ends my few days of not worrying about my weight gain. *sigh* Then I stopped at the bookstore, spend too much time, and bought the last Superman before the relaunch (the one that contains the words "and they lived happily ever after") and Sun Tzu's the Art of War because I should read it, and then I should give it away to someone else who should read it. I'm more artist than warrior, but sometimes the war is more about hearts and minds than blood and fear. see also and compare to here/now: http://www.emcit.com/emcitS03.shtml#Art )

The second meeting was a job interview for a priest candidate for our church. He was very personable, knowledgeable, yet down to earth. (and he's semi-retired so he actually fits our budget) We were impressed. He'd brought more people to the last church he was at. He said the central point about his skillset was that he was great at the process. The collaborative, developmental process. He said churches are like gardens. You can't just drop in seeds and expect results. You need to tend the growing plants (aka: the flock of sheep) and you need the right kind of soil for the kind of plant you're growing, get the right pH balance between bitter and sweet, not so bitter that it stings, but not so sweet that the truth is glazed over.

I keep coming back to that poem by Emma Lazarus, "the New Colossus". http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Colossus
this has become my prayer, the thread betwixt a church that fights for survival, a nation that cries out for justice for its people, the dreams of frantic sudden revolutions in distant empires, even, maybe, the tales of heroes hated by the very masses they protect.

Listening to the radio just now to stay awake so I can write all this, and I hear again a line I used to hear all the time from a certain person, God bless her: "Call on Me and I will answer you, and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know." It's from the book of Jeremiah. I would call, but I already feel like God's giving me more signs than Times Square, and my head is swimming trying to see how it all fits together. Like, Double Rainbow all the Way writer's high here. bit of headache, too, it's okay.
shadowlight: Gonzo the muppet dressed as fictional gonzo journalist Spider Jerusalem (gonzo)
*holds up sign*
"The church where I volunteer is slowly going bankrupt. We're having trouble hiring a priest because without another income, no one can afford to live on what little we can afford to pay; but we refuse to cut our programs to help the poor. The demand keeps growing. One of our programs has already served more people this year than all of last year, three months to go and their shelves are bare, and expecting another 140 clients next week. We're picking up the slack as government programs get cut, but we don't have the budget or manpower to carry all of it alone. We are the 99%."
Wait, I need another sign for my workplace, with coworkers who are nurses, veterans, former shop-owners, aircraft engineers, and scads of college grads, all working retail, usually three jobs for the price of one, so underpaid they still get government assistance.
and another sign after that.
Cripes, this whole country is falling apart. Mom always said when people get hungry enough, there's always a revolution. She could tell in the 80s that someday this day would come. Looks like the circus is finally out of bread.
Good. Now what can I do to help that isn't going to destroy my own tenuous grip on survival?
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Having untensed and caught up on my sleep, I now think, y'know... if Anglican bishops can be lured back into the catholic fold by a promise that they won't have to change with the times, if all they care about is the rituals and trappings, then good riddance to them. They're just holding the Church of England back. Once the chaff has deserted the grain, maybe the UK Anglicans can catch up to the North American Anglicans, who love women _and_ gay people. Let's go for quality, not quantity. Meanwhile this fake-anglican thing the Pope's set up is probably intrinsically unstable, and the chaff will eventually find themselves pressured to assimilate in with the regular catholics, or else they'll split off again and be yet another slice of the already finely diced pie that is the Christian churches of the Western world, accomplishing nothing except having successfully resisted having to accomplish anything.

Disclaimer: the preceeding has been opinion and educated conjecture. No statement of intent is intended, no particular expert knowledge of church politics is claimed, and I am well aware that it is not my place to judge who is grain and who is chaff in the eyes of the Lord.
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Today, I was driving down a side street when a black cat crossed the road in front of me. I slowed the car to a crawl and stopped. The cat got 2/3rds of the way across, stopped, stared at me, and turned around and trotted back whence he came, (ie, crossing my path again) and ran into a house where a girl in an orange sweater was sitting on the front steps next to a pumpkin. I would've said hello, but she was on the phone.

Then I drove past Mother Church's place, where they had six "Yes on 1" signs within 12 feet of each other, and another seven ringing the religious school. Really, mother? Really?? Do lots of swing voters have visual blind spots or suffer severe short-term memory loss?
Over at Aunt Church, they announced precautions for swine flu...they're not giving up the handshakes yet, which are *big* there (get up, mill around, bless everyone you can)...but they put out a big bottle of hand sanitizer for everyone to use before and after mass. (Mother Church, last spring, did away with handshakes for a month with no clear alternate ritual indicated, meaning my favorite part of mass became something no one bothered to do.) The Reverend (Elizabeth) also spoke of Aunt Church's struggle to adapt fully to the changes in society, rather than just tweaking things enough to get by.
(Later, during the community announcements part of the service, the owner of a local old-fashioned toys store made a baby/bathwater plea, saying the change that was needed was to bring back what used to work in our society, to go "back to the future". Later, thinking mistakenly that there was some useful I'd missed in what he said, I asked him to reiterate, and again, "back to the future", 'cause ipod isolationism is driving our society towards the cliff... I restrained the urge to suggest this cliff overhung the dead schoolteacher chasm from the second movie. restrained, I say. I deserve xp. )
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So, last Sunday, I went to an episcopal church. I won't go into the subtle differences, but suffice to say it felt more formal in ritual yet less formal interpersonally; so very English (I kept thinking the words "Reginald Perrin"), so very much like my episcopal grandmother (God bless her.)... the Bible reading included the section about marriage. The presiding preacher was very matter-of-fact about the Episcopal stance that gays should be allowed to marry. (Most of the sermon was more about how much work a successful marriage is for any two people, and yet we let teenagers attempt it.) The wine was redder and more grapey. Afterwards, the grandmotherly lady next to me encouraged me to come to the 'coffee hour' next door, where I ate (some manner of baked good, I don't recall), drank coffee, and was introduced to half the church, one at a time. I plan to keep going there until at least November 3rd, but my sense of the Holy Spirit nudging me is that I shouldn't attend as a tourist, but as someone who's at least considering staying. ...so, I'll consider.
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Last week, at church, the Gospel reading was about Faith and Works, an important tenet of the Catholic belief system as I understand it. The homily (a sermon defined as being a clarification to the congregation of what the Bible readings mean and how they apply to the parishioners' lives) wasn't about faith or works. The bishop had asked that all priests instead read a statement from him about Gay Marriage and why it must not be allowed to be legal. Father LM, God bless him, prefaced it with a story about his early childhood in the Deep South in the 1930s, where the KKK ruled like secret police, how the Klan burned down the only Catholic church within 50 miles of his home, how the Catholics rebuilt it, and how the Klan waited for them to finish, then burned it down again. Father LM's point was that, since hating people was bad, the Church doesn't hate homosexual people just because it (apparently) hates homosexuality. My thought at the time was, "Bad Bishop! No Religious School Funding!"
This week, the Gospel reading had two messages. One was that anyone who does good in Christ's name is a Christian and will be rewarded. (I want to have cards printed up to hand out to evangelicals.) This part mirrored the Old Testament reading, where Moses is told by a scandalized Israelite that two tribe elders are prophesying in the camp, not in the religious tent off at a distance, and Moses says, "Would that _all_ the people of Israel were prophets, and had the Spirit with them." This part was not touched on in the homily at all. The second part was "If an eye offend thee, tear it out." Father F did a brief bit (the standard "this isn't literal") but explained that his marching orders were to play a DVD (yes, a DVD) of the bishop telling us why Gay Marriage was bad etc. Now, none of these churches are set up or equipped to give DVD video presentations, so they fiddled with, and finally, after four wrong buttons, played a little portable DVD player, laid out on the pulpit, with the pulpit microphone lowered to the speaker on the player. I sat there, incredulous and clenched in anger, listening to Bishop M make arguments about how 'traditional marriage has always been the standard throughout civilization', and 'Gay Marriage is a "dangerous sociological experiment"' and how 'a child needs a mother and a father, and two people of the same sex, regardless of how much they might love each other, are depriving that child of either a mother or a father' (no, seriously, these are his arguments.) I kept thinking, "I intend no harm to anyone in this church. I intend no harm..." Then, in the middle (unless he was just getting warmed up for a long one), I got up, and without a word, head down, steps determined, I walked out of the church.

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