Whinging It

I met with a whippersnapper sales wunderkind yesterday, and for reasons too boring to go into, we were discussing the 1989 San Francisco earthquake.  “Were you here?” he asked me, indicating the office in which we were sitting.

I smiled sweetly at the youth and said, “No…I was in seventh grade…in Colorado.” I gave him an out with the Colorado so we could both pretend that I don’t look old enough to have been working there for at least twenty years.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Being an idiotic whippersnapper, he scrunched up his forehead in thought: “So that would make you…how old?”

Why is it not taught to all males that they should never, ever, ever, ever ask a woman her age?  Why?

Me: “Thirty-three.”

Him: “Good for you!”

The hell? I was half a mind to take him out back to the woodshed and teach him some manners.  I also purposefully used the phrase “what all the crazy kids are doing these days” later in the meeting, because I am nothing if not a smartass.

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Wife and I have, of course, been watching Glee on Fox this season. And while I adore it with all of my TV-loving self and can’t get enough of a show that dabbles in themes of high school social castes, musical reflections of society, and cheerleading, there was a scene last week that was a little…off for me.

***Note that if you have not seen last week’s episode, there will be a spoiler here, but I have thoughtfully refrained from discussing this until now for all of the DVR heads like us.***

So the scene in question was the one where Kurt comes out to his dad, and his dad is not shocked about it and says he (the dad) has known since Kurt was a baby.  And then the dad says something along the lines of Kurt being gay makes the dad uncomfortable and he doesn’t really like it (the gay), but nothing could make him stop loving Kurt.

I volunteer at an LGBT Hotline where a lot of teenagers call to discuss issues with their families and/or how to come out to their parents, and Kurt’s dad’s response is a good reflection of what occurs when the majority of teenagers come out.  Their parents LOVE the kid, but they don’t like The Gay.

I find this response of love with caveat abhorrent. Sexuality itself is a benign trait. Individuals have no more control over to whom they’re attracted than they do over their natural skin color. I mean, I wish I could explain why I think both Angelina Jolie and Seth Rogen are attractive, and I wish I could explain why I get sunburnt walking to my car, but I can’t. It’s part of who I am, not part of what I do.  It’s not like I’ve had sex with Ms. Jolie or Mr. Rogen, and while I suppose I could put on sunscreen to go to the parking lot, it still doesn’t resolve the fact that my avatar should be Casper.

Traits that a person is either born with and/or develops before rational enough to make decisions, I believe, are not cause for a parent to express dissatisfaction.

Wife disagrees with me. She thinks it’s reasonable that a parent be able to express his/her discomfort with a gay child, but I just see it in terms of if one of my parents told me he/she was not fond of the fact that I have brown hair. It’s clearly the parent’s issue, and there’s nothing to be gained by burdening the kid with it.

To be clear: I do not think parents should out-and-out lie to their gay kids that things are sunshine and roses and can I purchase you some contraception?  I think it’s reasonable to discuss if parents are uncomfortable with the idea of gay sex, the “gay lifestyle,” or rainbow flags, but I just don’t think it’s okay to tell a child that his/her sexuality is wrong.  It seems cruel to me.

And to be clear again: I also believe it’s okay for adults to engage in any consensual sexual acts they want to, and by no means intend this to reflect any sort of “hate the sin but love the sinner” mentality. (Aren’t we all sinners?) Just as I think it would be appropriate for a parent to discourage a straight kid from having sex because of pregnancy/std/crying-jags-upon-breakups fears, I think it would be appropriate to discourage a gay kid from getting too sexually adventurous without considering potential emotional and physical consequences.

In the context of a discussion of how Wife and I find it funny (weird, not ha ha) that there are now junior highs and high schools that cater to career paths, mainly because we find it difficult to believe that most children can accurately pick adult jobs at the ages of 12 or 14, Wife says:

“Kids aren’t even aware of what jobs are out there.  I mean, the world is not populated with cowboys, firemen, fairy princesses and ballerinas.”

For the record, I thought I would be President. I remember feeling all relieved that I only had to wait one year after I turned 35 for an election.  Because of how qualified I would already be, of course. I was already the class president in fourth grade.

Look for my campaign posters in the 2012 election season.

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Speaking of elections, it looks like there will be another Prop 8 vote in California in 2010.

I’m not ready.  I mean, yes it would be awesome if Prop 8 got overturned, and maybe it really WAS all just a misunderstanding and some people totally DID think they were voting “No” when they voted “Yes,” and maybe some old curmudgeons HAVE died and taken their votes with them, and maybe others HAVE realized just how much anyone else’s marriage does not affect his/her own.

But I’m not ready to be voted on again. I’m not ready to hear regular radio ads about how my wife and I are not as worthy of protection. I’m not ready to see signs in neighbors’ yards with happy little graphics of “real” families holding hands.

The powers-that-be keep taking surveys over whether this should be tackled in 2010 or 2012, and I want so badly for it to be 2012, but only because I’m not ready yet.

Bleaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

It appears the Obama administration is giving little thought to the expense of my therapy and medication.

To: President Barack Obama & the Democratic National Party

Cc: Blog

The Department of Justice’s defense of the Defense of Marriage Act, as filed yesterday, is despicable.  To compare homosexual American citizens to those who commit incest, to argue that it would be hard for the government to cover costs of legitimate couples, to reason that everyone is equal because everyone has the same right to marry someone of the opposite gender: It reads like a how-to for spreading ignorance.

Presidential administrations, as I’m positive you’re aware, do not need to defend that which they find constitutionally indefensible. The President has stated in the past that he thinks that DOMA falls within this category.

The Democratic Party need not expect any more money (or votes for that matter) from me or my wife until we see actions that back up campaign promises made by our “fierce advocate.”  We will find candidates who will fight for that which they promise, or we will abstain.

In an effort to spread my re-found sunshine and smiles, I’ve been trying to find a way to volunteer for the gays.

My purposes for this are twofold:
(1) Help further the case for equality because I think it’s bullshit that I’ve had to re-do my will three times in the past year in an attempt to guess what my and Wife’s marital status is on any given day. (Also, y’know, we want to be treated equally and all that.)

(2) Feel warm and fuzzy about my selflessness in devoting time to others.

So basically I’m totally selfish about my motives for volunteering, but I’d guess there are worse things.

Anyway, turns out volunteering is hard, and not in the it’s-emotionally-draining-to-see-people-who-are-worse-off-than-you-and-aren’t-we-fortunate-and-shouldn’t-we-count-our-blessings kind of way.  It’s hard in the I-really-do-want-to-volunteer-please-let-me kind of way.  It seems the SF Bay Area is flush with people who want to help the gays.  Who would’ve guessed?

*Smacks forehead and possibly says with more than a hint of whining, “Why won’t they just let me HELP?” before consoling self with cookie.*

I’ve had to be put on waitlists at the National Gay Hotline (not its real name) as well as the Courage Campaign to be a grassroots leader in my area. (Am guessing I’ll be duking it out with other people who want to be leaders in my area. Possibly we can break it down by block.)  I was hoping to work with the gay teens because I really am completely and unselfishly concerned about their suicide rate, but again, it seems organizations are completely unwilling to just let people loose on vulnerable gay children. Cowards.

So. Waitlists to volunteer because of all the people clamoring to help and make a difference coupled with the possibility that I might be rejected. From VOLUNTEERING.

It’s times like this I end up loving my adopted town while secretly cursing it.

In the meantime, I’m going to join my neighborhood’s monthly clean-up and hope that if I show up with garbage bags and garden gloves, they’ll accept me with no reservations or special training.

I’ve noticed within the past week that the Depression has lifted.  It’s funny: I could almost pinpoint to the day when it set in, but I only have a general awareness that it went away in the weeks since the New Year.  I guess it’s like a headache that way.

I am now able to complete tasks without Herculean efforts, and for the first time in a loooooooooooong time, I managed to go running yesterday, even if I did have to re-start at week one with Couch-to-5k. (Amount I care about re-starting: Zero.)

Best indicator that I am returning to normal*? I recently became obsessed with cleaning the laundry room.  Obsessed.

Things are looking up.

*”Normal” is of course subjective.  This references normal for me, which is probably not terribly normal in the grand scheme.

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Despite my bitterness about the Warren situation, I really enjoyed the inauguration. Even though Obama’s speech was somber, I found that I liked being told the truth about the state of the union.  I liked feeling like I can make a difference and effect change along with the rest of my fellow citizens.  It’s crazy to me that I can feel so much hope in the middle of a description of all that has gone wrong in our country.

I watched the inauguration with a bunch of co-workers at the law firm where I work.  We were all silent; no one gave any commentary, but most of us were crying.  I loved that I could see such emotion in all of these people who I generally only see in a professional setting, and I loved how inspired this room full of cynics was.

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Wife and I are off to Yosemite this weekend for what is promising to be a chilly weekend in a tent cabin. I look forward to small hikes, good food, and sitting by a fire with a lapful of knitting.

Never let it be said that I don’t know how to have a good time.