High Holy Mass of Contradictions

him: I need to see a movie with lots of explosions and death.
me: Oh, did you call your dad?

It's Veterans' Day, and it's my niece's birthday. Prior to last year, that was a point most often acknowledged by the joke about how, the day my niece was born, it was also Labor Day for my sister. Last year, the overlap gained new significance as my dad -- her grandfather -- had just died (on 11/5), and was to be buried in a veterans' cemetary. The funeral was on 11/10. I thought a lot that day about how hard my niece's birthday the next day would be for her. In fact, one of my most daunting challenges all that week was trying find a birthday card that said the right variation on "hope you have a happy birthday anyway."

= = =

My dad's service in the Army back in the '50s was as an Arabic linguist, so his work was in Military Intelligence. We didn't discuss it often when I was growing up, but we knew it. I'll never forget the first argument we had after 9/11. He'd been visiting me and Karsten in Portland on 9/10 while traveling on business, and then had to go on to Vancouver, BC. Following the restrictions of 9/11, he was stuck in Canada for a few days. When he came back a few weeks later to complete his business trip, we walked along the Cumberland River and got into a heated argument about why. If I could have it to do again, I'd shut the hell up and listen to him. I didn't have to agree with him, but he was an expert on the region (albeit with dated expertise), and I just might have learned a thing or two instead of presuming he was coming from a place of conservatism and closed-mindedness.

= = =

Here's a bit of trivia: I almost joined the military myself; did you know that? I was all set to follow in my father's footsteps, as a military linguist. I scored very well on the ASVAB and absolutely rocked the DLAB. Highest score ever recorded in the state of Illinois, they told me. When I told my dad, he beamed and said he'd scored the highest ever recorded in the state of Maryland when he took it, and then he hugged his little language-learning-freak daughter. Over the next few weeks, though, the Army stalked me. Recruiters called me morning and evening, recruiters tried to give me rides home from school, recruiters made a nuisance of themselves. And I felt positively cornered. So I told them to get lost. It took a lot of repeating myself to get the message across, but eventually they did give up and go away.

So, this is embarassing to admit, but on 9/11, one of my first feelings was guilt. With my score on the DLAB, I knew I may very well have been an Arabic linguist, and there may very well have been something I could have done to better prepare us as a country. I know, I know, it's a ridiculous, arrogant thought. Like I said, it's embarassing to admit. But it was an honest reaction, and a well-meaning one.

= = =

My boyfriend during the first few years in college was an Army Ranger. He was in the reserves, though, so after basic training, he only had to report for duty one weekend each month. He came over to see me on a break from his duty one weekend, but there was a miscommunication and no one knew where he was. He was actually AWOL, which both freaked me out (AWOL? just to see me?!) and amused me greatly. The scariest part was when his grandmother found out. She got really mad at him. The Army should have recruited her as a drill sergeant. She was terrifying.

= = =

After writing all this out, all that's left is to sincerely thank the people who've actually put up with the recruiters, gone through with enlistment, and who've done something for our country. There are many ways to serve a concept you believe in, and the military is one dangerous way to serve the concept of the greatness of the USA. It's a concept that we don't always live up to, but I deeply appreciate the work of those who believe in it enough to risk their lives for.

Well, here it is: the day I've been dreading. It's been one year since my dad died. I thought I would have a lot to say about that, but I find myself oddly quiet on the subject. The only thing I'll say is what I wrote in an email to my sister this morning:

I still miss Dad very much, of course, but I'm also amazed at how much healing happens in the course of one year. Then again, I'm equally amazed at how much still hurts after a whole year has passed. It's almost like time and healing can be measured in two different dimensions, on two different scales, with one exceeding my expectations and one falling so very short. Or whatever. I guess that's why it's easier just to say "life is funny." ;)

Shawn Colvin already summed it up for me, anyway, with this song:

( One Small Year )

Yesterday, the Race for the Cure came through our neighborhood, and I stood outside with a cup of coffee and watched them, thinking of my dad, and how he lost his race. But it was encouraging to see how many people turned out to help raise money for the cause, so maybe someday cancer will be a thing of the past.

Speaking of raising money for good causes, last night, we went to two fundraisers. The first was for the Nashville Humane Association: Anipalooza. Heh. We went to the one last year, too, and I'm sorry to say that this year's wasn't as good as last year's. Last year they had doggie speed dating, which was just about the cutest thing ever, but that was gone this year for whatever reason. The music in the main tent was also too loud, meaning you could barely hear someone shouting next to you, and you sure weren't going to casually mix and mingle and get to know new people.

On the plus side, there were kittens inside the shelter, which just about makes up for any shortcoming in event planning. Just like last year, Karsten was in one of the cat rooms playing with kittens most of the time we were there, and drew a crowd watching him get the kittens all excited. You should have seen these kittens crawling all over Karsten. I took pictures but they only hint at the stinging cuteness of it all.

After that, we went to back to our neighborhood for the "Heart and Soul" benefit at Werthan Lofts, for the American Heart Association. The contrast was stunning: someone there must be a professional event planner or something. They gave out wine glasses to each attendee, along with maps of the building showing the lofts that were open for the event. And then they had signs up on the hallway walls and balloons marking the entrance of each open unit to help people find their way through the somewhat confusing layout of the building. Plenty of volunteers, plenty of wine, plenty of cool people, and plenty of music ensured that it was a great party. A lot of folks were there from the Germantown neighborhood, too, which was fun.

A Vietnamese coworker of Karsten's used to say: so much good, so much bad. I think of that a lot, and I consider it a victory when the bad doesn't overshadow the good. Right now, as much as it still hurts to miss my dad, I know the good in my life -- like loving and being loved so deeply by someone as wonderful as Karsten, and having a job I enjoy, and being part of a community of great people, and living in a home we have the ability to enjoy and improve, and having good friends, not to mention that I was lucky enough to have had a dad as wonderful as he was -- all that good is as bright as sunlight and nothing can overshadow it. And I guess that should be enough to get me through another small year.

According to the HRC, the theme of this year's coming out day is "Talk About It." They've got a "Sorry Everybody"-style collection of pictures of people posing with signs that say "Talk About It."

I'm bisexual. But I'm also too lazy to print out a sign, take a picture of myself, and upload it, so I'll just talk about it here instead, shall I?

Step 1: Coming Out to Myself
I started my coming out process (and it is a process, rather than one big step -- and that process continues as long as you continue to meet new people) in 1991. That was the year I started college. I knew before that, in a way, that I was attracted to both men and women. What I couldn't tell was whether those attractions made me completely normal or psychopathically deranged. Because while I had plenty of exposure to gay and lesbian people (well, plenty of exposure to gay males -- it was rare that I encountered a lesbian), I had never heard of anyone who was attracted to both men and women... but I had never heard that it wasn't possible, either, or even normal. Still, I kept it under my hat, hoping someday it would all make sense to me.

And one fine day, in August 1991, it did. I was walking around with my new roommate, Andrea, and all across campus there were informational tables set up for student groups. And that was when I first saw the word: Bisexual. It was on the banner for Pride, the GLBT student group. I could parse it right away: bi meaning two, and sexual... well, let's just say I definitely knew what that meant. I stopped in my tracks and stared at the word. I even said it out loud. I can't remember if Andrea looked at me funny right then, because I was too caught up in my own world. And then we moved on, and I didn't say anything else about it for the rest of the day.

But the next day, after musing on it all night, I said to Andrea, "You know, I think I'm bisexual." And she said, "Yeah, I know. It was obvious when you saw the Pride sign yesterday."

Step 2: Coming Out to My Parents
I came out to my parents in 1993, just before leaving the country. At the time that felt like really smart timing, but in retrospect it gave us too much time apart with them unable to ask questions or have follow-up conversations, and in years to follow, they did their best to pretend I'd never said it. Even when I would deliberately make references to this "ex-girlfriend" or that "girl I was dating," it was just dropped as quickly as possible.

Step 3: Coming Out to My Sister
I came out to my sister in a letter in 1996, just after I'd moved to California. She'd told me before I left that she was a good pen pal, and since we'd never been close, she indicated an interest in getting to know each better through writing letters. I included the fact that I was bi in the first letter I sent her, and I never got a response. For years, I thought this was her rejection of my queerness. It wasn't until last year, as she and I were both giving care to our dying father, that I broached the subject. And it turned out she had never received the letter. She knew about my being bi before that point anyway, as my parents had told her, and she says she would've reassured me that it wouldn't change anything. Instead, the letter that got lost in the mail was one of the causes of a 9-year rift between us.

Step 4: Coming Out to My Extended Family
I came out to my extended relatives a little bit by accident, in 1998. I'd volunteered to help coordinate a family web site, and in the process included a link to my personal web site. At the time, I was running a large, high-profile bisexual resources web site, and it was prominently linked from my home page. I didn't worry about this, because I was under the impression that at some point, my parents had divulged this bit of information to the rest of the family, and that no one would be finding out this way. This was not the case. I received a scathing email from my uncle, who called me immature and selfish, and told me I was hurting my parents.

On the bright side of that hurtful incident, my dad came to my defense, writing a letter back to his younger brother and telling him that his response has been "extreme and totally unenlightened as well as un-christianlike" and adding that his "unfair and unkind judgment" of me was "totally unacceptable." If my dad hadn't already been my hero, he would have been immediately promoted based solely on that one letter.

Step 5: Not Becoming Invisible
In 1997, I met the love of my life. He happens to be male, and he happens to be straight, and initially that was hard for me. I didn't want to limit my identity to just the "heterosexual side" (I don't actually conceive of my sexuality as having sides, which is why I use the quotes, but it's simplest to explain it that way). I feared that if we were monogamous, I would be defined as straight, and that felt deeply wrong. But being involved with other people has never worked out well for us, and we've been mostly monogamous for a large portion of the nine years we've been together. I'm still bisexual, I still find women attractive (just as I still find men attractive -- occasionally!), and I still have major misgivings about being thought to be straight. But I have no regrets about being with Karsten, and our love is broad enough and complex enough that it makes sexual orientation a moot issue.

Step 6, 7, 8, ...
And so it goes. Every time I meet new people, every time someone makes a gay joke, every time I hear someone ignore the possibility of bisexuality, there's an opportunity to out myself. I'm less forward about it in some ways now than I used to be, partly because I live in a more culturally conservative area than I ever have before, partly because I find myself questioning how relevant it is to anyone but me, and partly because it's just there in the background, not bothering me, not needing to be announced, not needing to be talked about.

Except for today. Today I'm talking about it. I hope it helps someone understand themselves or someone else just a little bit better.

Happy Coming Out Day, everyone.

It isn't easy being back at work, that's for sure. It doesn't help that things around here are kind of nutty what with problems that have arisen since the latest software release in mid-October, so there's a whole damage-control element to the work I got back just in time to do.

Still, it's distracting, and sometimes that helps. But other times, I just want to curl up into a ball in a corner and cry and miss my daddy.

My mom has made her plans to come visit Nashville at Christmastime. She's traveling on my dad's birthday (December 21st) and will arrive that evening, so she'll be here for my birthday (the 23rd), as well as the 22nd, when we always used to celebrate both my dad's and my birthdays together. I imagine that's going to be tough for both my mom and me, so I'm glad we'll be together. And then she's staying through the 27th or 28th, I can't remember which. Still not sure if my sister and her kids are coming down -- they've been invited, but I don't know if they'll be able to swing it. And I think my brother and his wife are stuck working around Christmas, so they can't get away.

Anyway, that's that. I'm glad we have plans. Christmastime is going to be hard. I don't even care that much about Christmas, but because of the timing of our birthdays, I associate the whole season so much with my dad; it's just going to hurt like hell.

I can't decide if I should have a birthday party (or rather, get Karsten to throw me a birthday party) to help distract me or if I'll just be miserable. Guess I'll wait and see how I feel in the next few weeks before I make up my mind.

I forgot to mention that the priest from my parents' parish, who gave the blessing on my brother and sister-in-law Saturday night, was wonderful. He delivered this lovely speech about how everyone needs someone, and love isn't only what we think it is for ourselves, and we don't have to discriminate or conclude that what we think of as love is the only kind of love there is. It was perfect, and the only thing that would have made it better is if her parents had been there to hear it -- since clearly, they're the ones who needed to hear it the most.

Also wanted to mention that on Sunday, at my parents' wedding anniversary reception, my sister announced that my niece was going to sing my parents' wedding song, "More," and my nephew was going to play it on the keyboard. The two of them got ready to begin, and my nephew, in a very campy way, blurted out, "I just realized I don't know how to play the keyboard! Does anyone here know how to play this song?"

Several people raised their hands, and one woman actually started heading toward them. But my nephew called out "I see a gentleman over there who looks like he could do it. How about you, sir?" And my dad, with whom they'd obviously worked all this out, worked his way out of his chair and hobbled his way over the keyboard, with my mom, who was stunned and completely taken aback, trailing behind to make sure he made it OK.

Dad played the song, as he has many, many times, and even though he was a little clumsy and slow about it, my niece sang along and it was the most touching thing I've seen in years. I was able to keep from crying all during my brother's wedding, but when my dad played their wedding song, I blubbered like a freakin' waterfall. I do have pictures, but they didn't come out very well.

I said I would post about it but I haven't yet, so here it is: I'm in the process of making arrangements to go stay with my parents for an extended period of time to help out in whatever way I can. This will entail being away from Karsten for days at a time, which I hate, but as I told my mom, I can't really imagine looking back on this decision and thinking it was the wrong thing to do.

So Karsten and I will drive up to my parents' place and back this weekend for my brother's "wedding" and my parents' anniversary celebration, and then we'll drive back up for Father's Day weekend (the week after next). At that point, I may stay behind while Karsten drives back to Nashville for a few days.

It's going to be a lot of driving back and forth -- flying would just cost too much, I think.

[I just got back from work and noticed that this is still unfinished. I'm going to post it for now and maybe come back to it later.]

Well, actually, we were never once in Chicago. Schaumburg, yes; Park Forest, yes; Chicago, sadly no.

But we drove there, spent 6 hours in IKEA, spent the night with my parents, and drove back. All in the space of a weekend. Whew!

IKEA was frustrating. Most of what we wanted was out of stock. What we ended up with was insignificant enough to fit in the car, so we skipped on shipping it and just loaded up the Camry.

Seeing my parents was tough. My dad is in such pain, and is just not himself. My parents shared with me and Karsten a poem my niece had written a few weeks ago for school. You can imagine how wet our eyes were.

( My niece's poem )

And the drive was exhausting.

But this week, we're focused on getting the kitchen, bathroom, and laundry room in working condition, and then we'll probably move in early next week.

First, sincere thanks to everyone who commented on my last post to express their sympathy for the loss of Karsten's mother. I have let him know that so many of you gave condolences, and he's very thankful, as am I.

We're back in Nashville and a little too worn out to unpack yet. But unpack we must so that we can pack back up again tomorrow or Friday and drive up to northwest Indiana. We still don't know anything about the funeral arrangements, but I'm figuring we'll probably just head up there sometime tomorrow anyway.

Oh, also, we have a house. Well, actually, we have two houses. Well, actually, we have contracts on two houses. And we'll have to decide which one to keep and which contract to get out of. We already had a contract on a house in Germantown (I never posted an update to say that our offer was accepted, but it was), but we haven't done the inspection yet and we have some concerns that that one might be a tad too ambitious for us. In other words, it needs a hell of a lot of work.

But yesterday morning, while we were in Miami and before Karsten got The Phone Call, our agent called to tell us she'd found a house she thought was really right for us. It's just a few houses down a perpendicular street from the house we've bid on in two separate listings, so you can stand on the sidewalk in front of this house and turn to the left, and you'll be looking at the house we really wanted. Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. (Probably a little bit of both, I know.)

Anyway, I ducked out of the conference and went up to our room to check out the listing online, and unfortunately, the MLS listing didn't have a picture, but our agent was so enthusiastic and the seller was already getting offers so we went ahead and bid on it -- quite literally "sight unseen." We joked that at least it would be a good story if it came through. She called this morning to let us know our offer was accepted (we must be getting better at this whole bidding for hot properties thing) so, like I said, we now have two houses to pick from. (Of course, by the time we got the news about the second house this morning, houses were the last thing on either of our minds, but still.)

We drove by the "new" house on the way back from the airport tonight, and it looks good. Not breathtaking or anything, but good. We have an appointment to check it out tomorrow morning, so we'll try to decide then which one to buy.

And after that, we'll probably head back home and pack for the funeral. Life is feeling really surreal right now.

Karsten found out a few hours ago that his mother died today. She hadn't been sick, but in the last week she was hospitalized after coughing up blood and other severe symptoms. We still don't have all the details about what happened to her and we're both very much in shock. We saw her in Nashville just two weeks ago and she seemed healthy.

We're still in Miami until tomorrow afternoon. Karsten says he doesn't want to cut the trip short because he's more likely to be relaxed here while he processes this. He's out walking on the boardwalk by the ocean now. I'll go join him in a little while, but I wanted to come upstairs and give him some time to himself. I've been crying pretty much nonstop since we got the news, and I can't imagine I'm much comfort to him like this. I'm doing my own grieving, certainly, but mostly my crying has to do with looking at him and seeing the worn-out sadness on his face. I hate seeing him hurt so much.

One of the things we do on my team at work when we're setting goals for a time period is to determine what our areas of focus (or "pillars") for that period are; in other words, what overarching categories of activities take priority. In my personal life, the ( pillars for 2005 are... ).


In general, it seems like most resolutions fall into two major categories: ( tasks or projects to accomplish )( and behaviors to change ).


And of course, like any goals, these are subject to change.

Happy new year, everybody.

I've forgotten to post that my parents were coming to town for a quick visit this weekend. They arrived yesterday afternoon, and they'll leave on Sunday.

More on that in other posts, probably.

Thing is, toastytuft and I thought my parents were arriving today, so we had rented "Monster" on Wednesday to watch Thursday night.

I asked my parents if they wanted to see it, and apparently they were sufficiently curious about Charlize Theron's performance to be game.

So we watched "Monster" last night. With my parents.

To appreciate the weirdness of this, you must realize that my folks are definitely the escapist type when it comes to film. They want lighthearted, distracting, good-natured comedy, preferably of the romantic variety. Simply put, the highest compliment my mother seems to be able to pay a movie is to call it "harmless."

And they watched "Monster" with us.

Couple of things didn't go over too well: the near-constant use of the word "fuck," the lesbian make-out scenes (there really weren't sex scenes to speak of), and the murder scenes. And that's pretty much the entire movie, right there.

Meanwhile, Karsten and I were entranced. It's an incredibly well-made movie, and Theron richly deserves the kudos she received for that performance. She has forever earned my respect, even if she never acts that well again for the rest of her life.

But after the movie ended, there was a pause. Then my mom finally said, "Well, that was cheery."

Heh. She'll be sticking with romantic comedies, I think. ;-)

My parents had to euthanize their dog, Honey. She was having a difficult time standing, couldn't poop or anything, so they took her into the vet and he found several tumors on her abdomen in addition to the ones they knew were on her head. So they said their goodbyes and let her go.

I wasn't too upset when they called Wednesday night to share the news because she was somewhere around 21 years old and had led such a good life that letting her go peacefully now seemed like absolutely the right thing to do. But I thought her several times yesterday and last night, and how weird it'll be next time I visit my parents not to see her there.

Honey (or Honey-dog, as I called her when we'd play) was the sweetest dog I've ever known. Gentle nearly to a fault, playful even in her elderly age, incredibly loving and affectionate, and she was one of my dear friends. I loved her, I loved play-fighting with her, and my parents' house will never seem the same without her. Rest in peace, Honey-dog.

My mom called this afternoon and said my dad may have had a mild stroke during the chemotherapy. They're not sure if it really was a stroke, but his mobility is affected and the right side of his body is very weak. All in all, it sounds like he's having a harder time with this treatment than he had with the previous two series of treatments. My mom sounds exhausted, too.

So we're getting ready to leave for Chicago first thing tomorrow morning, as planned, but now I'm trying to think if there's anything extra I can do or bring to make things easier on my mom. Nothing's coming to me.

Anyway, funny thing: qe2 just poked her head in the door. She had most generously offered to look after the kitties while we're gone, but apparently I gave her the wrong start date. Whoops! I felt bad that she came all the way over for nothing, but it was a fairly amusing moment. Karsten said "At least you didn't catch us doing anything illegal." Quite. ;-)

Well, great.

I talked to my parents today, and my mom is now saying that she's planning on being at the hospital day and night while my dad is in, which is what she's done in the past, but somehow I thought that was only because there was no one available to sort of split the shifts with. I'm mildly annoyed about it because one of the main reasons I arranged my life to be up there while Dad's in the hospital was to give my mom a break so she can work during the day and just be there in the evening and overnight (they let her sleep there in the room with him).

Don't get me wrong: I understand her wanting to be with him while he's going through chemo, of course. I certainly would too, if I were in her shoes. But I guess I just feel like I don't really know why I'm making these trips now.

I know they still want me there, but now I don't feel like they need me there anymore and I don't know how important I should let that be.

but this email from my sister choked me up.

( My sister's email )