"Love is a harsh and dreadful thing to ask of us, but it is the only answer."--Dorothy Day


The Whelming Flood.

I cry every time I talk about God. It’s been this way for years, but it was never a problem. Until now. Since I’ve been in New York and have started going to CCfB, I actually have to stand up (really, sit down) and speak about all of it. I tie it up in my personal experiences, and my revolutions, and my calls to action, but really it’s all about God. It frustrates me, so I try to plan ahead—far, far ahead—so that I won’t be nervous, because maybe that’s why I cry. I was reading a book last week, Blue Like Jazz, and it became clear to me why I cry. In this book there is a story about a pastor who is asked to explain his devotion to God and he bursts into tears, as he cannot express how amazing this love is. But in another part of the book, the author and his friends set up a confessional in the middle of a college campus, and instead of receiving confessions, they confess the sins of Christians across time.

When I read this, I felt like I understood myself better. I didn’t believe in God until I was probably 20 years old. That seems young, but I had spent the most difficult years of my life up until then pretending and trying so hard to make it true. When it finally hit me, it was like nothing I had ever experienced, and my life has never been the same. But there is also a part of me that remembers life outside. That remembers the terrible things that Christians have done through history, killing people to further a religion, enslaving people to maintain dominance, demonizing people because we know nothing of their lives. So when I talk about God I am overwhelmed by it all. I think of how wonderful my life has been with God in it, the amazing experience of living in a community of believers and knowing that something better awaits me. And I think of all the people that have been denied this by a religious community that has at times been blind to the damage we do when we keep people out of our midst, simply because we do not agree with something in their lives, and we do not have the compassion to know that this is more important than any of that could ever be.

I have witnessed it over and over again, in both my personal and professional lives, people whose lives have been destroyed by the prejudice and bigotry and intolerance. In my recent surfing around the blogosphere, I came upon the blog of a man who is dying of AIDS. He is begging to die. He has been excommunicated from his church because he is gay, and now feels that, because these people treated him with such brutality, God has damned him and has given him this disease as a punishment for his misdeeds. And I am again overwhelmed. I am angry, so, so angry, that a church would do this to a person. That a family would allow this to happen. That someone would be left alone at the end of their life, dying of such a terrible illness, simply because society has demonized people for something they have absolutely no control over. I pray that someone will find him and tell him that we are not all like that. That God loves him and seeks him, and wants him to know that he is not alone.


Cuppy Cake.

My college roommate and I used to sing this song...generally very late at night...when neither of us had slept for several days. That's the only way it's acceptable. I found it today very randomly and laughed so hard I almost fell out of my chair. So now I present to you....The Cuppy Cake Song.



I was reading a blog today called BadChristian.com, just to see what it was all about. I enjoy the movement of Christians calling themselves bad in a good way. You know in the way that says "Maybe the way we've been going isn't exactly the way we should continue going. Maybe our government has made decisions that, contrary to what they say, are not in the best interest to the World's people." On the Web site there is a link to a quiz letting you know what kind of Christian you are. And I'm proud to annouce that I got a -4 on the test and am a Communist/Marxist/Socialist/Secular Humanist Worldview Thinker. WooHoo! What this means is that I don't believe that our government is divine, I think that money should not drive all decisions, and I think that gay and lesbian people should have rights.

If you feel compelled to take the test, let me know what you score. And don't worry, not everyone can get a -4.


Viva La Vie Boheme!

My mother insists that when I was in the 6th grade I told her that I wanted to move to New York and be a Bohemian and wear a beret. I fully deny having ever said this soley on the accusation that I would ever wear a beret.

In the New York Times Magazine this weekend, their weekly feature The Way We Live Now talks about the ever shifting Bohemias of NYC. They raise the question...Can Bohemia still exist in the rapidly changing, formiddably priced, landscape of 21st century New York City? I don't know that I've attained my aparent dream of moving to New York and becoming a Bohemian. I eat organicly and wear sneakers to work. That might be as close as I come. I was talking with a friend at Sunday Brunch (probably very un-Boho, as it was in the Financial District) about the changing of neighborhoods. He lives in Battery Park City, which used to be populated primarily by Wall Street financiers. Now these people are married and have children, greatly changing the face of the neighborhood. I live in Park Slope in Brooklyn. This area was in the 1980s a very dangerous place. And then in 1990s the Boho crowd moved in. The neighborhood still has that feel, but has been invaded by the stroller set. People who were artists 10 years ago are now freelance graphic designers. Once again, practicality reigns supreme.

When I was in college my friends and I went to see Rent for the first time. We were an English major (me), a Journalism major, a Nursing major, and a Finance major. After the show, we talked about it and my more practical friends were like "I understand they're artists and all, but there's no reason to starve. Why don't they just get jobs?" I, however, enjoyed the romance of it all. Sacrificing yourself for your art. Not giving in to the man. But now, of course, I've had to start paying my student loans back. This is something Bohemia doesn't really allow for. It's sad when you have to give in and get a profession. But, I will not give up hope that I will someday get to stand up and sing in a line (see photo above).


Nothing Left.

I've been reading today news stories and blogs and e-mails about 9/11, reliving that day in my own life and trying to decide what if anything I would write. I feel, as always, that this might be something that I should stand silent on, as at the time I lived 1800 miles away. But then I read this. Thoughts on an Anniversary. It says more than I could ever hope to say.


Historical Fiction.

In reading another article this morning about The Path to 9/11, I discovered what it is that really bothers me about this mini-series. I feel as though ABC is treating this as though it were a piece of historical fiction, allowing them the space to make up events and characters, to manipulate things in such a way as to get their point across. I'm not so sure what their point is, but it's just odd to do this. The only historical fiction I ever remember reading is Johnny Tremain. I made an awesome diorama of the incident when he injures (and apparently silver-plates) his hand using an action figure in a tiny handmade three-corner hat. My understanding of historical fiction is that the history stays fundamentally the same, but a character is placed in the events to offer an eye-witness account of things. That seems to be the only acceptable way to tell a story using characters that didn't really exist, but the characters probably shouldn't be making stuff up. That's more like historical slander.


To Tell The Truth.

In reading the blog of a friend, I first learned of the controversy surrounding ABC's mini-series The Path to 9/11. And then I got an e-mail from another friend with a link to a petition to put a stop to this. In reading all of these sites, I am, I don't know that there is a strong enough word but I'll say, apalled that people would think to slant the truth in such a way. I know it's weird, but I have a lot of problems with any dramatic portrayal of tragedy. I don't know that there is ever a way to do this with the sensitivity and care that it requires to not cause the families of those affected any further pain. My feelings about 9/11 can in no way compare to someone who was in NYC when it happened, or to someone who lost a loved one in this terrible tragedy, but I am dumbfounded that people would even perceive to profit off of such a thing. I do not believe it's healthy to force people to relive that day over and over and over again. We do not need to continue placing blame. This was a horrible tragedy. I feel like movie after movie after movie being made about it does nothing but raise questions in the minds of people attempting to move on. Not to forget, but just to move on.

When I first read this I was tempted to watch this thing as I kinda like to be outraged. But I think this is more important than that. I'm sure the ratings will be huge, as we cannot turn away from a tragedy, but I implore you not to add a number to this.