Recently in Friends Category

I remember how frustrated Diane, our old IVCF staff worker, used to get with me my sophomore year in college.  I had decided to get involved in IVCF leadership that year and had taken a position on the chapter's executive board.  It quickly became apparent that I was not well suited or that kind of leadership.  My outlook was simply more relational.

The scene played out several times, varying only in details.  The day of a meeting would roll around, and I'd be talking to someone.  The conversation would be deep and personal, as I was never good at small talk and people tend to spill their guts around me anyway.  I'd note the time and decide that continuing the conversation was important than getting to my meeting on time.  Often, I wouldn't make it to the meeting at all.  This would frustrate Diane to no end, adn she'd try to get me to understand that while relationships were important, always breaking my other commitments for the sake of a conversation wasn't entirely right either.  I don't think she ever got very far with me on that score.  Eventualy, we agreed to muddle through the rest of the year.  We also agreed that I'd take a role the following year that would be better suited to my nature.

I've grown a lot in the fifteen years that have passed since then.  As a more mature person, I can now more readily see Diane's point more clearly.  And I'm more likely to judge a relational need more carefully these days, taking into account how immediate the need is, how serious my other commitments are, and other such factors.  Today, there's a real possibility that I'll say, "This is important.  I care and I want to be there for you.  But can we talk about it in a couple of hours?"

But I'm still mainly relationally oriented.  I'll keep my commitments to activities like meetings to a minimum.  The difference, however, is that I'm less likely to take on sucha  commitment in the first place, rather than taking it on and then breakign it later.  Because I'd rather have my time free so I can listen to people.  I understand that now.  And I allow for that preference reponsibly.

Someone I care deeply about has lost someone he cares deeply about today.  Please keep him in your thoughts as he grieves.  If you're the praying type, please pray for him.  I don't usually tell people how they should pray, but if you would indulge me, I'd like to offer these suggestions:

Pray that he has the courage to grieve and grieve fully.

Pray that he feels safe enough to grieve.

Pray that if he needs to cry, he finds a time and place where he can allow himself to cry.

Pray that if he needs to shout, he finds a time and place where he can allow himself to shout.

Pray that if he needs to ask the hard questions, he finds a time, a place, and the sense that he can safely ask the hard questions.

Pray not that his grieving will be cut short or sped up, but that he may go through the process fully and properly.

And pray that in it all, he remembers that we grieve because we have first loved.  And let the memory of that love inject some sweetness in the often painful grieving process.

One of the things that I have learned over the past few years is that there are certain consequences to having a blog under your real name and a visible presence on social networking sites.  Namely, people from your past suddenly start finding you again.  This can be both a pleasant surprise and an unpleasant experience.  This is especially true when said friends last associated with you when you were a completely different person -- say an evangelical Christian who identified as heterosexual.

In most cases, I've been very fortunate when people from my past pop up.  They either don't comment on how I've changed (though I suspect some of my old high school classmates might actually be pleased to learn I've loosened up since leaving Williamson) or they've expressed curiosity and a desire to understand how I got to where I am today, given my starting point.

This week, I had one of the -- fortunately rare in my cases -- less pleasant experiences.  A friend from my first two years in college decided to contact me expressing a strong desire to rebuild our friendship.  She also expressed remorse for how badly a prior attempt to rebuild our friendship turned out.  That previous attempt was extremely short-lived, so much that I never revealed any of the changes I had undergone.  It simply became clear that a friendship was not possible -- at least not the kind that was being sought.

So when Lynn apologized and asked again to rebuild a friendship, I did so with some hesitancy.  I still got the impression she had expectations for what the friendship was going to be like -- expectations based on the person I was in 1993 and which would not be met by the strong, self-loving person with a decent sense of boundaries that I am today.  But I'm also the kind of person that wants to give people the benefit of the doubt.  So I told Lynn that I'm willing to be friends, but that she needed to understand the kind of friendship I could offer due to the changes I've gone through in my life.  To give her an idea, I gave her the address to my website so she could learn about me again.

Alas, it would seem Lynn can't deal with the person I've become.  I'm not entirely surprised by that, though I had hoped that things may change.  So she's decided to let me go, though she promises to be there for me and be my strongest supporter if I should ever choose to "leave these lifestyle choices."

To that I say, "Bah, humbug."  I tried the good little straight boy routine before and it almost cost me my life.  I simply have neither the desire nor a compelling reason to return to that nightmare.  And if it means that I will have to struggle on without Lynn's support and friendship...well, let's be honest here.  I've thrived without her support and friendship since around 1994, and I'm pretty sure I can maintain that trend indefinitely.  After all, I wasn't the one who sought to renew our friendship after all this time.

In the end, I think that's what bothers me most about this experience.  Lynn came to me looking for something.  She talked about how she had missed me and wanted me back in her life.  But the moment she realized I no longer met her expectations based on her recollections that are over a decade old, she suddenly decided that wasn't possible anymore.  Not only that, then she started acting as if I would eventually be the one that needed her.  That's just not the way things work in the world I know and understand.

In the end, I'm a bit sad.  I don't like realizing that there are just some people I can't maintain a friendship with.  And in some ways, I'm sad that Lynn is unable to maintain a friendship with someone who doesn't meet her expectations and is apparently even unwilling to understand what happened in the sixteen years she's been absent from my life.  It tells me that blessing I offered her is still need of fulfillment:  that she finds the healing her soul needs.

The sad irony is that she now probably thinks it's my soul that needs healing.  If only she took the time to learn the truth.

When I wrote my previous post in February, I didn't realize that it would mark the start of a two-month blogging break.  But life has a way of conspiring against us to keep us busy and away from our online ponderings, I suppose.

Work has been extremely busy and hectic, thereby sapping me of a lot of energy and motivation.  What little I had left of both generally went into dance classes at Park Avenue Dance Company or working on preparations for the dance company's annual benefit.  The latter turned out quite nicely, by the way.  By the time I got done with everything, I was ready to come home, kick back, watch a little television, and head for bed before the next day brought its hectic schedule to more doorstep.

Those who know me well, however, should realize that the last two months weren't all work devoid of play, however.  I did manage to get in a few trips to Tilt for some great dancing.  (In a a future post, I hope to talk about the Elmira-based Club Chill, which I checked out last night while I was at my parents' home for the weekend.)  And the first weekend in April, Marina and I made another trip to Toronto, where we saw the Chimera Project in its performance of Blood.  The performance was fantastic, powerful, and highly athletic.  And Marina and I had front row seats -- seats close enough that I could've stood up and reached over to caress the chest of the extremely hot dancer that was lying on the front of the stage.  Let's just say I discovered how much self-restraint I had in that moment.

But now that I've had a bit of a break and things in my life seem a bit calmer, I've decided it's time for me to start posting again.  So with a bit of good fortune, I should start making a few more posts over the next week or so.  Because like the rising sun, I will always return.

I just don't have as regular an orbit as the sun.

(The photo in this image was taken by Jon Sullivan, who was kind enough to release it to the public domain.)

It's been a while since my last post. Unfortunately, life has been a bit crazy for the past few weeks. Between a crazy project at work, keeping up with dance classes, and fighting off what I can only assume was the stomach bug from hell, blogging has fallen quite low on my list of priorities. However, now that I have a half hour or so before I need to run to the company holiday party, I thought I'd take a few moments to write a bit about my adventure with friends to Toronto last Saturday.

Every year, my jazz instructor, Marina, goes to Toronto the Saturday after Thanksgiving. She had mentioned it to Rudi, who decided to go with her. At some point, they got the crazy idea to invite me. Having heard about these excursions from a couple different sources, I was all too eager to accept that invitation. So that morning, I crawled out of bed, into some clothes, and drove over to Marina's house. I was there by about 6:15. Rudi got there a half hour or so later, and we were on the road by about 7:00 that morning.

The drive up was pleasant and uneventful. We only made one stop, and that was at the border. This allowed us to exchange our currency and grab a quick breakfast at Tim Horton's. Then we went through the checkpoint and continued on our way to Toronto.

We were in the city by 10:30, so we parked in the garage across the street from the theater we'd be attending that evening and walked down to the facilities where DanceTeq teaches there classes. We arrive about forty five minutes before the modern class started. Class that day was taught by a substitute, Matthew Waldie. The class was too advanced for me (mainly due to the pace rather than complexity of technique), so I watched (which gave me plenty of opportunities to semi-secretly watch Matthew and pray the drool wasn't too obvious) while Marina and Rudi actually participated. Both struggled with the class at various points and Marina was particularly out of breath by the end of class. I actually took a certain amount of pleasure in that realization. After all, I saw in Marina's expression the same exhaustion and sense of pushing beyond her capabilities that I frequently feel when I take her class. So it's nice to see one of my instructors in that same space, herself.

After class, we did a bit of shopping. Of course, this meant walking from the waterfront to the major shopping areas in the city. Fortunately, I had the sense to pack a pair of decent sneakers. Shopping went pretty well, and I even managed to pick up a nice shirt, though I need to lose about another twenty pounds before it looks quite right on me. Unfortunately, the manufacturers of stylish clothing still haven't decided to let those of us in plus sizes look good. But I'll try not to rant too much about that.

After shopping, we made the trek back to the waterfront to grab a quick dinner and head to our show. We went to see "Lost Action" by the Canadian dance company, Kidd Pivot. The show was quite good, especially in terms of strength and technique. The company has four male dancers, and it's amazing to see the kinds of things a dance company can do with that kind of muscle. There was one scene in which all four guys worked together to lift one of the women and move her around the stage, twisting and turning her body. The fact that they did this without popping one of her joints out of socket -- let alone with deceptive ease -- was incredible.

The show itself was a bit confusing. "Lost Action" is an abstract performance piece, and I don't really do well with abstract art, at least not yet. One of the things that I took away from the performance was a sense that it involved a theme of enforced conformity, an observation that Marina and Rudi both felt made a lot of sense at the time. Of course, having just reread what Kidd Pivot says about the performance themselves, I'm not sure I was on base at all. Of course, Christine would point out that this is the beauty of dance. Different people interpret the same thing differently.

After the show, we made a quick, peaceful, and enjoyable trip back home. Rudi and I talked most of the way while Marina slept. Fortunately, she did wake up at the border so we could get across okay.

Overall, it was a fantastic trip and I look forward to making more of them in the future. I certainly couldn't have asked for better traveling companions, either. Hopefully, they feel the same way. (There was that one teasing crack I made to Rudi, though...)

This past weekend was a bit interesting. I received friend requests over on MySpace from a couple of people from around my old hometown. I have no idea who the one was, as he's twelve years my junior. However, the other one was someone I graduated from high school with. Needless to say, I was quite surprised, especially when you consider we weren't what I'd consider friends. Granted, we weren't enemies, either. It's more a case that we simply traveled in different circles.

Being contacted by people from my old hometown is always an awkard experience for me. I'm practically a completely different person now than the person who attended school all those years ago. And I'm never entirely sure how people will react to the changes.

Granted, I suspect that many would find the fact that I'm no longer Christian (or at least no longer a goody-two-shoes Christian bordering on self-righteousness) a pleasant change. I was very much a stick in the mud back then, and had no problems speaking up when the occasion to do so arose. So in that respect, I think many would take the fact that I "mellowed" as a good sign.

But all the same, we're talking about a rather rural part of Pennsylvania. So I'm not always sure how well my being a witch or being gay will be received. Especially the latter, as I still recall some of the reactions to the idea someone might be gay when I was in high school. I think that could still make for an interesting and even tense conversation today.

Of course, I also have to admit that some of my concerns stem from an experience a few years ago when someone I went to college with contacted me after we hadn't seen or spoken with each other in seven years. Basically, she came whirling into my life and flipped out when she discovered that I had developed a stronger set of boundaries in my relationships. (And we never got into my change in religion or my sexual orientation, which would've equally flipped her out.)

Reunions can be so unexpected and more than a little unnerving.

Due to online conversations I've had over the past week, I was reminded of an entry I wrote on another diary site. I decided to find it and repost it to this blog. As I recall, the topic created quite a stir back in 2004, though most people seemed to applaud my outlook on the matter. And even those who didn't applaud it tended to have mixed feelings than being completely against my point.

Searching through the Stand To Reason website, (don't ask why I was there) I found a recommended letter for one to send to gay people who might be visiting your home. I've posted the letter below:

Dear ,

I need to let you know that although we love you and look forward to seeing you, we don't want you to bring your friend with you. We have nothing against him personally. If he were visiting as an individual under other circumstances, that would be another matter. I don't believe in ostracizing others whose behavior I disagree with.

This situation is different, though. In so far as the two of you are in the relationship you're in, welcoming you both as a couple would be treating as good and normal a relationship which is neither.

Our concerns may cause you to cancel your visit. I hope not. We'd like to see you. However, in good conscience we must insist on this principle in our home.
Sincerely,

I wish I could say that I'm shocked that anyone would even suggest such a letter. Unfortunately, I'm not even mildly surprised. Unfortunately, the extremely conservative Christian elements have a history of these sorts of things. But rather than ranting about it, I decided to simply post my suggested response. It's the basic response that I would send if anyone was ever foolish enough to send me such a letter.

Dear ,

I am writing to inform you that, as you suspected, i will be canceling my visit to your home. My boyfriend and I are working hard to build a life together, and it is our policy to refuse all invitations where we are not welcome as a couple. This is a principal of our relationship, and we are unwilling to compromise it.

We do not require that people approve of our relationship. We do not require that people like our relationship. However, we do require that people come to terms with our relationship and treat it as an important part of our lives. Your request that I leave my boyfriend at home when I come to visit you makes it clear that you would rather ignore an important part of my life, and I will not accept that. As such, I also wish to inform you that at this time, I find it appropriate to end our friendship.

I'm sure that this decision will shock you, and suspect that you will even think it's an overreaction to your request. However, I would ask that you consider what you are asking of me and try to put yourself in my shoes. There are many people who disapprove of various relationships for various reasons. Some disapprove of divorcees who remarry. Some disapprove of relationships between people who feel they "married too young" or "got together for the wrong reasons." The list of reasons that people disapprove of others' relationships is virtually endless. Now, suppose that someone disapproved of your own marriage for one reason or another. How would you react if that person informed you that you were not welcome in their home as a couple?

You have chosen to put me in that very position. I will not abide by that. As such, I feel it is best to wish you the best in life and part ways.

Regards,
Jarred.

Pam over at Willful Grace created a wonderful post in which she describes the major events in her life in each of the last twelve months as well as the lessons she learned from those events. It's a fantastic post and I encourage everyone to read it.

More importantly, Pam inspired me to do something similar. Sadly, my post won't be nearly as organized or well thought out as Pam's is. To be honest, I don't think I could come up with a single even for every month since last January. And besides, there are a couple of months that I doubt I could boil down into a single event or a single lesson learned from the events of some months.

The good news is that I'm not in a competition with Pam, so I'm under neither obligation nor pressure to match her excellent post. This gives me the freedom to simply allow her to inspire me and see where the inspiration takes me. So for that, I'd like to say thank you to her. And without further ado, I devote this post to the highlights of the previous year of my life.

I think that the first major highlight of the year came in February, when I met Rob. I didn't talk about Rob much in this blog, and there's a good reason for it. Rob represented the first time that a potential (and real, however temporary) love interest actually read my blog. As such, I struggled with finding the balance of what I could say, knowing that I didn't want to reveal anything I hadn't already discussed with him. After all, reading about what another person is feeling about you in his blog rather than firsthand strikes me as a horrible thing.

Rob found me online -- on Valentine's Day no less -- and contacted me to express a desire to get to know me and explore the possibility of a relationship. In many ways, we hit it off quite well. And I have to admit that I was swept off my feet. Rob was the first guy to actually pursue me. (Usually, I've had to chase after the other guy.) I learned just how much I could enjoy being the object of pursuit. In fact, I'd say that one of the things I learned about myself due to my encounter with Rob is that I like a slightly aggressive guy.

Sadly, things with Rob were fast-paced and terribly short lived. After a few dates and immediately after our first night together, Rob decided I wasn't what he was looking for after all. I have to admit that after being pursued that hard and dropped just as quickly, I was stinging. Though I did learn an important lesson in that respect, too. My guides tried to tell me things were going too fast and I should slow things back down. But I allowed myself to get carried away in the heat of the moment.

Of course, I don't think things would've ended any differently. After much time, I realize that Rob and I just weren't right for each other. And that would've been the case no matter how slowly we took things. Though I do admit that I wonder if slowing down would've enabled us to realize this before we took things as far as we did, saving at least some heartache. So the lesson I learned from that is that when spirit says slow down, it's best to listen, even if you are enjoying the heat of the moment.

March and April brought new choices with them. After the events of February, I realized that I needed to get out more and put myself in positions where I could meet more people. Before then, I had a small group of great friends, and I'm still thankful for them. But I realized that if I wanted more out of life (especially in the realms of socializing and dating), it was time to expand my circles even farther. So I began to join various groups and look for other ways to get out in the wider community. I would say I've seen some mixed results from those efforts, but I'd say they were positive overall. And it's still a work in progress. And I've made some great friendships (especially one in particular) as a result that I think I will always cherish.

The summer months, starting with June, brought unexpected changes in me. In June, I started walking more. In fact, the weekend before my birthday, I took my first ever seven mile walk along the Erie canal. That first walks was both exciting and draining. I came away with a sunburn and some pretty serious blisters on my feet, but I also developed a passion for the trek. In fact, I loved it so much, that I repeated the walk once a month through September and am even counting down the days until the warm weather returns and I can resume the little tradition.

In addition to the canal walk, I began taking a walk after my weekly dinner with friends on Monday nights. Those walks began when I got ready to leave the restaurant one Monday night and decided it was too gorgeous an evening to just go home. So a second walking tradition was born. By the end of summer, I was up to three one-hour walks a week (except on the weekend I'd take the canal walk, in which case that trek would replace one of the regular walks). I began to see this as something I did for enjoyment.

As an aside, this is also the summer that I began to enjoy sunbathing. This is something I had considered a waste of time while growing up and would often shake my head at my sister in disgust during summer vacations when she'd sunbathe daily. In fact, when I confessed to my sister this summer that I'd started enjoying the practice myself, she immediately asked, "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

In August, I went with friends the Northeast Naturist Festival. I had a pleasant time while there (though I will note that I kept my clothes on 99.9% of the time I was there) and enjoyed my first real vacation (i.e. a prolonged period off where I did something other than visit family) in years. I came to appreciate again the importance of pampering myself.

The naturist retreat also marked the point in time where I'd say I really began to start coming into my own in terms of spirituality. I had a few moving experiences while there, and they initiated changes in myself that continued over the next several months, and will likely continue into the coming year.

At this point, I will also note that I started really "coming into my own" in general around this time. Or at least I began to notice it. I began building much more self-confidence and a willingness to take risks and make myself more vulnerable. In some ways, I'd say my transformation into a minor social butterfly started to become more noticeable at this point.

In September and October, I had more spiritual awakenings. It is at this time when my patroness, Freyja, began to make it more clear that the nature of our relationship was going to change significantly. (I'm still not ready to publicly discuss the nature of that change, however.) Again, I found myself in situations where my comfort zones were pushed and I was encouraged (not quite at knifepoint) to stretch as a person.

Also in October, I went to a cousin's wedding. While making the trip with my parents and members from my father's side of the family, Freyja also impressed upon me the fact that I've cut myself off from my family. She began to impress upon me the fact that I need to get closer to them. She says it's because there are ways in which I can help various people in my family. Of course, I'm not sure how that's going to work, considering that the kind of help I can best offer is something most of them would be opposed to. But I guess time will tell.

Then in December, the bombshell dropped. About two weeks before Yule, Freyja suggested (again, not quite at knifepoint) that I should plan the Yule ritual for a small group of friends. So I placed the necessary calls, made the commitment, and moved forward. I have to admit, I was rather nervous, especially after becoming sick for the week prior to the ritual, which I had originally hoped to better use for planning. But things turned out beautifully and everyone had a pleasant time. And fortunately, I have much more advanced noticed for the next ritual I'm expected to plan, which isn't until the Spring Equinox.

I'd say it's been an interesting, profound, and profitable year. Hopefully the coming one will continue in that trend.

As someone who started out this life as a rather conservative fundamentalist Christian attending a Baptist Church and has since become a rather liberal, goddess-worshipping Vanic witch with a fancy for other guys, I know first-hand just how much a person can change over time. Fortunately for me, I've met some precious people in this world who also understood that and could embrace those changes. After all, had everyone simply chosen to look at my origins, I would be rather lonely right now.

To explore the memory that I'd like to write about, I first need to set up some background. In college, I was an active member in both my campus's chapter of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship and an "alternative ministry" program specific to my college called Acts 29. In fact, 99% of my non-academic life revolved around these two groups.

Of course, this meant I was very Christian and quite conservative in my outlook at this time, too. I felt that Christianity was the One True Religion(tm) and that homosexuality was a horrible sin. (Yes, I suspect I even uttered the baleful "love the sinner, hate the sin" phrase at least once during my college career.) Now, I wasn't particularly antagonistic in my opinion (and a few of the gay students I've talked to since would even agree). I didn't organize or stage protests. I didn't stand outside of BGLASS (my college's version of a gay student union) meetings and harass its members or any such thing. For the most part, I basically ignored the very existence of gay and bisexual students on campus. (Of course, I might argue that this is even worse than the things I didn't do.) But if you asked anyone on campus who knew me, I guarantee you they knew my views.

So when my own prison-closet cracked open and I began to accept and come to terms with my own gayness, I found myself in a bit of a sticky situation. Most of my friends were of the "homosexuality is a sin" mentality, and the group that was best equipped to help me at this point in my life was filled with people I had managed to alienate, even if only indirectly. So I spent the last couple of months of my college career in a sort of limbo, only finding support from a small group of friends involved with the computer consultants (another on-campus project dedicated to helping fellow students resolve their computer problems).

And then of course, there was ISCA BBS. I had been introduced to the Telnet-based BBS (if you don't know what any of that means, think of it as a sort of precursor to message forums that litter the Word Wide Web today) back when I was a freshman. It included discussion forums for discussing gay issues and even had an invite-only support group for LGBT-folk. I found a lot of support and helpful information there, which was boon for me. Not only that, it was something I managed to stick with after college, when living in rural PA.

Well, my worlds did collide to some degree. An old member of BGLASS (who graduated at least a year before I did), Rob, was also on ISCA BBS. What's more, he knew my username. Well, needless to say, Rob remembered who I was and my beliefs and attitudes prior to coming out. And while he didn't make too big of an issue of my past (in fact, he only ever mentioned it twice and was even one of the people to admit I wasn't "too bad" when it came to stuff like harassing people), it was also pretty clear that he wasn't exactly ready to think of it as water long passed under the bridge either.

What amazed me, however, was the reaction he received from other users of the BBS on the second time he brought up my past. I forget what exactly Rob said. To be honest, I didn't find it all that objectionable, as he simply brought the subject up. Granted, it did give me pause to feel a twinge of guilt due to such memories, but I took it in stride. However, at least one of the long-standing members of the discussion group was not so willing to just let thing be. This individual instead chose to very pointedly remind Rob that my past was not relevant and that who I am today (or that day, as I've further changed since even then) was what was relevant. Indeed, this person seemed quite incensed that Rob would even bring up such distasteful skeletons.

Now, I've never been one to try and hide or even deny my past. I won't beat myself up for them either, instead choosing simply to acknowledge that I made some bad choices in the past. But I was and still am grateful that there were those people who were willing to let those bad choices go and instead embrace the person I had become. I think some times, we all need people like that. May the gods bless those who accept that we may not be the same person today as we were yesterday. It grants us the freedom to continue that transformation tomorrow.

The picture above is of Grey, Kisa, and Paw, two of the barn cats and my parents' indoor cat. The small group decided to curl up on the love seat together tonight, and Dad shot this perfect picture of them. I think it perfectly describes the quiet, intimate evening we've all had here in the Harris household this Christmas evening. Well, everyone except for Precious, who is stressed over the number of kittens currently occupying the house.

The Yule ritual went well Saturday night. A small group of us gathered at around eight, had a light meal, and then retired to the living room for a time of honoring the gods and working magic. Everyone seemed rather satisfied with the ritual I planned. (Though a certain goddess might take some small issue with my claim to have planned it.) After all was said and done, I think the party broke up around evelen that night.

I spent the night with friends, then headed on down to Mom and Dad's Sunday. This morning, Dad and I ran out to finish our Christmas shopping together, then came home to relax. Tomorrow, we'll open gifts together and have lunch before I head back home in time to get a good night's sleep before work on Wednesday.

Overall, it's been a good holiday season. I hope my readers have also found equal times of peace and the company of loved ones at this time of year.

The picture in my post is of my parents' kitten, Kisa, and one of the "outdoor cats" that often come indoors to visit her, Gray. I figured I'd spice up this entry with a picture that my father took of them playing together last week. After all, it's catblogging day, right?

As I write this, I'm sitting at my parents' home, relaxing. I drove down here yesterday morning after getting up, finishing packing, showering, and dressing. We had the traditional turkey dinner with all the extras at three in the afternoon. Then Mom took a nap, as she had to work third shift last night. When she got back up, we all sat down and watched Sky High. My parents had never seen it before and loved it.

Today, I got up, showered, and ran to town so that I could pick up a copy of Divine Nobodies. (Special thanks to Erin for recommending it.) I decided to start it this afternoon rather than waiting until the car trip tomorrow. So far, I've enjoyed it overall and hope to write about it after I've finished it and processed through all my thoughts.

Speaking of tomorrow's trip, I was pleased to discover that only my aunt and uncle, Janet and Tom, will be riding down with Dad and I. Of all my relatives, they're some of my favorites. It also means that conversations during the trip should remain relatively casual and "safe." So that's quite a relief. My cousin, Melissa, will also be coming from Philadelphia, which means I'll get to see her a second time in the same three month period. Considering we went two years without seeing each other prior to her wedding, this is pretty significant.

I have to admit that I do miss some of my friends right now. I love my family, and I'm constantly feeling more comfortable around them (I even managed to mention a couple of gay friends in the context of relationship while talking with my mother yesterday). But at the same time, I miss spending time with those I've built mutually beneficial relationships with over the past couple years. In fact, I think I'll call Michele here in a bit.

I'm going to skip the common practice of listing the things I'm thankful for. Instead, I'm merely going to say that I'm thankful for my life in general and the countless blessings -- both large and small -- that have come to fill it.

The second picture is one I just took of Precious curled up on her grandpa's lap.

Last night, I met Rick at Equal Grounds to play a couple of games. We often do this on a Wednesday night. Since we both had other plans for tonight, he suggested we get together yesterday instead.

This time, he asked me to look over the games there at the shop and select three for him to choose from. (Normally, he gives me three options and I make the final choice.) So I recommended Scrabble, Monopoly (which we had played last Wednesday), and Yahtzee. To my surprise and delight, Rick chose the third game. This was great because I'm actually a big fan of Yahtzee, though I actually prefer the related game from my childhood, Kismet.

The two games are similar enough that playing with Rick last night reminded me of the numerous times my sister, my parents, and I sat with my grandfather at his dining room table playing Kismet. (That is, when the grown-ups weren't playing Euchre.) It particularly reminded me of the one game when I somehow managed to roll three or four different Kismets. (Of course, that memory was probably particularly triggered by my first game with Rick, wherein I rolled two Yahtzees within the first five or ten minutes of the game. I consider myself lucky he consented to play a second an third game with me after that.)

I found these particular memories warming because it's one of the rare pleasant memories I have of spending time at my grandfather's house (at least after my grandmother passed away). To be honest, my sister and I were often bored during our weekly visits, as it was far more common for my parents and my grandfather to play cards, leaving the two of us to either do homework or find something on television to watch once we had finished with the Sunday comics (the other exciting gem of every visit to Grandpa's house). So the bulk of these visits were often endured rather than enjoyed, making the times when we played Kismet a fun change of pace.

It's been several years since my grandfather passed away, and I find myself now wondering what ever became of his Kismet game. In retrospect, I almost wish I would've had the insight to ask my parents if they could set it aside for me when they and my aunts and uncles went through Grandpa's belongings. But alas, I didn't think of it now.

However, today I did confirm that Kismet is still for sale, and I expect to pick up my own set in the near future. The memories from last night just makes it all the more tempting. I wonder if I'll ever get Rick to indulge me in a couple games sometime.

Apparently, the gods decided I needed a bit of a confidence boost this evening. Two different guys decided to check me out while Michele, Belinda, and I were at the restaurant tonight. Unfortunately, neither of them took it to the next level by asking me for my phone number, but it was a nice experience, nonetheless.

In reality, I didn't notice the one guy checking me out, but both of my companions assured me he did. It was while we were standing at the front of the restaurant waiting for our turn to be seated. Two young men in their mid-twenties (or so I'd estimate) stood on the other side of the aisle leading from the front door of the restaurant to the hostess's station. Apparently, the one looked over my way and took several seconds to check me over. What a shame nothing came of it, though.

The other instance I'm not 100% sure of, but the guy who seated us when it was our turn seemed incredibly friendly. Once we took our seats, he turned to me and complimented me on my creative tee shirt (it's the "2QT2BSTR8" one). Now many people have commented on this shirt, but this is the first time someone has struck up almost a full minute long conversation over the topic. Granted, I still might have shrugged it off as nothing if Michele didn't comment on the incident herself. (Indeed, she went so far as to say she wanted to tell him to ask me out already by the time our brief conversation ended.) And he did exchange smiles a couple more times throughout the meal, so it was interested. But alas, he never said anything. And to be frank, I've embarrassed myself one too many times to take a chance on mistaking yet another person in the service sector as being more friendly than their job requires or even suggests.

All the same, it was nice to be noticed. I hope it keeps happening on a regular basis. Though I also hope one of these guys gets up the courage to do more than just check me out.

Saturday morning, I got up around eight in the morning and spent some time watching cartoons and relaxing until Belinda called at around 8:30. She and I were scheduled to work at Psychic's Thyme together that day, so she suggested we meet for breakfast before the shop opened. So I got my shower and did everything else I needed to before heading to Perkins, where we agreed to meet. Belinda got there about ten to fifteen minutes after me. We were quickly seated and our omelettes over light conversation.

Once breakfast was done, we ran over to Staples to get some audiocassettes, then headed on up to the shop. Our timing was perfect, because Char was just getting stuff out of the trunk of her car when we pulled in the parking lot.

Saturday was the first time that I worked at the shop as a reader -- or at least when I actually got readings. (Earlier this month, I worked a Saturday with Michele and was marked as available for readings, but I didn't get any.) I ended up doing three readings all day. They went pretty well, and I certainly feel better about the idea now that I've done it once.

I've been doing readings off and on for a few years, but this was the first time I've ever done them professionally. I've mostly done them for friends or random people with no money involved. It's a lot less stressful that way. Especially considering my general lack of confidence (which yesterday helped alleviate immensely). You see, I normally worry that I won't be able to read someone, that nothing will come. Now, if I'm doing the reading for free, the way I see it, that's fine. I'll just shrug and point out to the person that you get what you pay for. But when they're handing over money, there's an expectation, so the idea of not picking up anything becomes much more frightening.

I talked about it with Belinda at breakfast, and she pointed out that she's always nervous about that, too. But she pointed out it's okay. And she pointed out that in those instances (though she assures me they're fairly rare) that you can't read someone, you simply tell them as much and don't charge them. (Also, if there's someone else around that might be able to read them, you pass them off.) Fortunately, it didn't prove to be a problem Saturday, anyway. And as I said, it built confidence. And Belinda and I are hoping to work together like that again, soon. It was a fun day all around.

After the shop closed, Belinda and I headed to Red Robin for dinner. I haven't been there in a couple of months, and the hostess who seated us harassed me about that a bit. Belinda thought it was funny that she recognized me so quickly, actually.

This past Saturday, I went to Fingerlakes Pagan Pride Day. As I was feeling lazy and wanted to do other things, I didn't arrive until a little before 2pm. Once there, I immediately found Wendy and determined which Quarter I'd call during the closing ritual. Since they left it up to me, I chose to call Air. After all, both my sun sign and rising sign are air signs, and that's how many groups assign quarters anyway. Of course, I realized after the fact (and after the other Quarters had been assigned, so it was too late to change my mind) that this meant I'd be the first one to call a Quarter during the ritual. As a rule, I don't mind going first, but I'd never participated in a ritual organized by Wendy's coven before. In such a case, I'd normally choose a Quarter to allow me to observe someone else call their Quarter first just to work out some of the details of how a given coven does things through observation. Fortunately, I did get a chance to ask someone about those details (e.g. "Do you normall call Quarters facing the Quarter or facing the altar?") beforehand.

Pride itself was rather enjoyable. I can't comment on a lot of details, as I didn't participate in a lot. None of the workshops planned really tripped my trigger, so I spent most of my time just socializing. After all, as I said in a previous post, I find such events most valuable for networking anyway. And it gave me a chance to catch up with a few people I haven't seen in a couple months or so.

I will say that one thing I like about this particular Pagan Pride is that because of how new it is, it's still relatively small. It tends to give it a much more intimate atmosphere, and you feel like you can meet and get to know just about everyone. That may change in a few years, as I noticed a considerable increase in turnout compared to last year. Hopefully, those in charge can find a way to maintain the same style of atmosphere as it grows each year.

One particular moment from the festival I'd like to point out occurred during the closing ritual. Just after Wendy and Kiree served cakes and wine (well, cookies and water), a young man who identified himself as Zach asked if he could say something. After he received permission (not to mention heavy encouragement), he commented that there had been a time when he was afraid to identify as Pagan and speak up about his beliefs. He went on to comment that coming to Pride that day gave him the chance to meet kind-hearted and like-minded people, which both comforted him and gave him courage. His comments were deeply heart-felt and moving, and I think it once again reminded everyone in attendance just why we participate in such events.