You Can Go Home, But You'll Sometimes Find Assholes There

Went back to my Alma Mater for homecoming yesterday.  It's been 9 years since I graduated, leaving behind the tiny college I called home for four years. Four long years of debates in the class room, thousands of hours procrastinating writing papers, and scrubbing toilets to pay for my tuition.

Got all dolled up in my Red Dress of Courage.  It has been 8 years since I saw many of these people, almost 7 years since I gave birth to my son.  I needed something to make me feel wonderful, proud of myself, and all the achievements I have made in the last 9 years of my life.  

Was asked by a former classmate if I enjoyed being raped. 

Was too shocked to come up with a good reply, but wish I had retorted, "Of course, why do you think I'm dressed like this?"

I noticed many nasty glances and pointed fingers but didn't care.  Was ignored by people who were my friends when I was engaged but who didn't even bother to call when my fiancee left me at the alter.

I went for me.  I went to prove that I could go back there and not be ashamed of who I am, of the path my life has taken.  I'm not ashamed of my blue hair, of my views on the world, of the fact that I write openly about my rape, struggles with depression and anxiety, or the fears that run around my head.

I went because I am so my bigger than all the nonsense that use to keep me down.

And for all that I say with a smile on my face, I might not be the best Catholic out there, but at least I'm not a hypocrite.  And I can live and strive to do better than that.  

Mexico and Cuba Get Pope'd

Yes, I know it's been for fucking ever since I've written and yes, I've broken my own promise to write every damn day, but what can I say? Depression is a lying bastard:

Being treated with a cocktail of meds that quit working didn't fucking help. Fortunately, the med situation has been cleared up and I'm back to being myself. Yet, I've been afraid to pick up the pen, errrr, keyboard.

But when my Cousin asked me to back him up on an argument, I spent an hour constructing these arguments without fretting if I sounded stupid. I was writing from the heart and I didn't give a rat's ass if I was writing a rough draft of a terrible sounding argument, I just wanted it out.

Here's how is started: A distant cousin stated on Teh Book of Face that "The Pope didn't have "time" to meet with any Cubans like the Damas de Blanco and other human rights activists, but he did make sure to save plenty of time for Fidel and Raul. #AshamedToBeCatholic"

Responses of included the sexual misconduct of some members of the clergy, which wasn't even the point of the Pope's visit. Reading these responses got me going, so this is what flowed from my brain. Warning: this post is a metric fuck-ton long, so if you quit half way through I get it. But these are my fucking diatribes and I'll write whatever the hell I want.

"Hi XXXX and YYYY, I'm gonna butt into this argument. I usually try to refrain from arguments on FB b/c I like to keep my politics outside of my "social media" friends. But as a writer/blogger/editor, I am calling you out. Mi primo, Javier Camps, this is for you.

Point 1--With the issue of the Pope not "visiting with real Cubans": The Pope is the leader of a nation, Vatican City, an official doucumented country recognized worldwide. In addition, he is the head of the Catholic Church. As a leader of a "state" he is correct in meeting with the heads of the "state" of Cuban. Benedict openly criticized Communism and called for the reformation of the system, along with urging religious freedom.

The 85 y.o. pontiff suffers from EXTREME high blood pressure and has been told in the past that he should not travel by air, as the altitude reached during flight could cause him to stroke. The Pope's commitment to spreading the message of Christ by visiting a country where personal freedoms have been quashed for decades shows his willingness to sacrifice his health.

His travels to Mexico have been called by the press as "brief but intense." He arrived in Mexico at 4:12 pm Central Standard Time on Friday 23 and left Monday the 26 at 6AM. There is an 8 hr time difference between Rome and Mexico. Now, I'm hot to trot at just turning 31, but there is no fucking way that I could make my body adjust to an 8 hr time change in 3 days, and I'm betting neither of you could also.

Security was a HUGE issue. The Pope celebrated a Mass before a crowd of 300,000 people. Each and EVERY one of those people had to be searched before entering the stadium where the Mass was. We would do the same for our President; to not afford the same level of protection that we demand for our head of state is to say that the human dignity of the Pope is less than our President. 

Point 2: Sexual Abuse:

This is a hot, volatile topic. I have first hand knowledge, as I have worked with the Church and the FBI to investigate allegations of sexual abuse and those who may come into contact with children. I am also a survivor of sexual abuse and rape (not by a member of the clergy, but someone who claimed to be a practicing Catholic), so I understand the gravity and the intense pain felt by those who have been raped/molested/abused.

Yes, there have been cover-ups. Bad priests have been shuffled around. Men of the collar who should have been thrown in jail alongside other rapists and pedophiles were unfortunately not held accountable.

There is not excusing this behavior. HOWEVER, if you are going to sling mud by singling out sexual misbehavior, you will find that you lose your ground very quickly.

I DEFY YOU to name me a Protestant, Muslim, Buddist, Toaist, Jewish, Hindu or any other religious sect that has not perpetrated crimes against children and has not covered it up. You can't, just like you can't say that our government leaders haven't covered up their sexual misconducts the same way.

Archbishop Silvano Tomasi, the Vatican's permanent observer to the UN, defended its record by claiming that "available research" showed that only 1.5%-5% of Catholic clergy were involved in child sex abuse.Statistics from the Christian Scientist Monitor newspaper to show that most US churches being hit by child sex abuse allegations were Protestant and that sexual abuse within Jewish communities was common.

The Church is in the process of cleaning out. They have admitted to the faults and errors and are working to make amends. No other religious group is being so openly transparent at this time, yet the Catholic Church remains faithful to it's current mission.

Point 3: The Catholic Faith

The Catholic Church is run by fallaible, fallen, sinful, men and women. No one is exempt, as by default we are stained with Original Sin at birth/conception. All of us, as Catholic men and women, make up the Chruch. We are a collective, one Body in Christ. We have an "elected official" i.e. the Pope who is the "governor" of the Catholic Church, who sets rules and sees that they are followed. Just as we Americans elect our President to set forth rules and sees that they are followed.

Are all of our American rules fair and just all the time? Is justice being served at every moment here? No, not at all. Take the Zimmerman case for example. Where is the justice?

As a Catholic we put our faith into action by making an Act of Free Will "to hold these truths self-evident" (to quote the Founders of our County). We assent to the belief that the Pope cannot error on teaching on Faith and Morals. That does not mean that the Pope/bishops/priests are exempt from making errors in judgement.

Being a Catholic is difficult. There are many rules to follow, teachings that are hard to understand, but as a Catholic, we MAKE the CHOICE to follow these rules. At any time, you are free to not follow the rules of the Church, but when you do so, please do not continue to call yourself a Catholic, for you are no more of a "real" Catholic than a member of the Harlem Globetrotters plays a "real" basketball game. (That analogy and this Point 3 argument is fully fleshed in this article. http://tinyurl.com/7lhqvqo) "

THE END 

Of Cheese Addictions, Easter Candy, and Cancer

First off, Happy Easter to all my readers!  I hope your kids got jacked up on as much candy as they could before you had to usher them out the door to the Easter church service of your choice.  Because mine did, and I'd hate to think that anyone missed the fun of having to hiss every 2 minutes, "Sit still!  Stop growling, you're not a dog.  Don't give me that face.  Pay attention to God, He's the reason you're here, but I'm ready to send you back!"

Really, I can't blame anyone else except myself for the Kiddo getting a high on sugar.  I'd split up the jelly beans, gummy bunnies, Peeps, and malted milk balls between 24 plastic eggs, so he was obligated to open each egg to discover the treasure within.  What I didn't realize at 1AM as I filled these 'spring spheres' is that he would insist on having to taste test all the contents within.  Before I realized it, he had in inhaled 4 peeps, a fistful of jellybeans, and a half dozen bunny gummies.

So between fighting with a fidgeting child, rolling my judgmental eyes at some of the Easter 'fashions,'and struggling to stay focused on the homily and wondering if the Deacon would drop the chalice, I didn't really have a holy experience at Mass.  I know the graces were there, but I didn't have any happy warm fuzzy feelings.  Guess that's why it's a good thing I am already intellectually convinced of my faith.  Because if I had to survive on the warm and fuzzies, I'd be out of church so fast, I'd set a new land speed record.


Speaking of religion and graces, I'm happy to announce that Brenden McGuire received some very promising news regarding his tumor.  Per his post on Facebook, "The bad news first--the treatment method for my cancer will be extraordinarily intense inpatient chemotherapy, plus surgery (-ies) at some point over the summer. So I will be in the hospital, off and on, for the next nine or ten months. The good news, however, is that the tumor has been confirmed to be non-metastatic (i.e. it hasn't "spread" to my lungs, brain, liver, etc.). Thus, according to my oncologists, the most likely outcome of the treatment will be a cure. That can keep one going through anything."

Thanks so much for the prayers for this young man.  Please continue to pray for his recovery and that his family will have the strength for the long haul ahead of them.  Within the next month or so, I will be working to establish a foundation for donations for the McGuire family.  When I get that up and running, I hope you'll be as generous as you can.  He's the sole breadwinner and will be impacted as the months continue.  The college will work with him to keep his job available, but cancer treatments are anything but cheap.  


Now for the hardest part of this post, admitting my shameful addiction.  I am a cheese whore.  I LOVE cheese.  The sharp smell of red hoop cheddar, the creamy textures of fresh mozzarella, the chalky rind on brie tantalize my senses.  When I picked up Edward Trencom's Nose: A Novel of History, Dark Intrigue, and Cheese from the dollar bin at Books-A-Million I didn't expect much, but I really was enchanted with the colorful, intoxicating descriptions.  I had found a novel that verbalized my insane fascination and desire for all things dairy.  (When I was expecting my son, I had the most insane cravings for semi-soft cheeses, forbidden to pregnant women.)

When I go to the grocery store, I'll linger in the 'fancy' cheese department, which sadly consists of 1/4 of a display case.  (I almost married a boy who lived near an incredible food market with a fancy cheese section that was larger than my entire apartment house.  We might have been unhappy, but I would have had some awesome cheeses to console me).


So if you'll excuse me, I'm off to eat a wedge of brie and an apple.

Failure to Follow Instructions Will Result in Death

Things that irritate me while I'm at Church:

1. The choir girls for evening Sunday Mass.  They sing quite well but find it impossible to keep their traps shut when they aren't signing!  Between the giggles and whispers I felt less like praying and more like slaying.  This past Sunday my laser beam glare, which I was secretly hoping would cause them to spontaneously melt (much like the bad guys in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark) succeeded in silencing them for a short time.

2. People who applauded the giggling choir girls specifically after Fr. E said, "Don't clap for them as they are not doing this for attention, but to use their talents to praise God."  I was very hungry and quite stabby already and wanted to smack everyone who couldn't follow one simple direction.

3. Me, for being such as asshole for not being able to ignore the things that were 'bothering' me and actually pray.

4. The fact that the temperature dropped 15 degrees between the start of Mass and the end.  My sleeveless top was totally inappropriate for that change.

Like a Twitch Upon a Thread

It's a quarter til 11 and I should be in bed by know now.  Correction.  I should have been in bed at 9.  Especially after I screwed up my Mass plans by being so tired to begin with.  And I'm quite pissed off at myself.  I failed the ora part of my alma mater's motto "Ora et labora."

With all my labora this past week at the Fair, trying to squeeze in visits with the Kiddo, and barely closing my eyes before the alarm blares at me for the third time, I took a half-assed attempt at a short-cut and cut my neck instead.

It's not a good excuse to miss my Sunday obligation.  Yes, I was/am/still will be tired tomorrow, but I should have forced myself out of bed in time for the 9AM Mass and not tell myself that I could catch the 7PM Mass at the local "Catholic" university, (which surprise, surprise, I missed because I got caught at the Fair).  I know far many mothers that operate on less sleep and still manage to keep going to daily Mass.  Yet for me to drag my lazy ass out of bed this morning, it would have taken a team of caffeinated oxen.

And I'm pissed at myself.  I hate making excuses for myself.  I wish I had the fortitude today to make Mass.  It's not like I'm being a crappy Catholic.  I went to Confession on Saturday, so it's not like I planned, "hey save the get out of hell card for Tuesday, cuz you're gonna skip Mass on Sunday."  Ugh.  I feel like such a jerk!

So why am I not in bed?  Well, I have too much on my mind now and I need to write it out, rather than try to fall asleep full of angst.

One pressing thing is my job situation.  Kumquating, for the most part, is over.  The owner will need me around sporadically during the week so between the tax refund that will cover rent for the next 4 months, and the (megar) amount of child-support and whatever I make weekly, my expenses should not be an issue, I hope.  (Fingers crossed).

What do I do know?  Do I go back to trying to find full time employment, possibly as a teacher for developmentally retarded teenagers?  Like a cork stopping a leaky bucket, do I just dive into a job (ha, if any are available in this still crappy market) that offers a decent salary, health insurance, and a 401K?  Do I try to continue to pursue my dreams of making writing a livable pursuit?

What happens if I take that plunge and write the book(s) that have been cooking in my heart and head for almost 10 years?  What if I write and I can't find a way to get published?  What if I do actually find a publisher, but no one wants to read my book?  What if I don't even generate enough to cover printing costs?

Yea, I know I'm totally putting the cart before the horse.  I mean come on dummy, you haven't even WRITTEN anything yet.  How come you are letting your fears scare you this badly?  You can't be afraid of failing if you fail to try.